While from the east the giant Rymer steers His ship, and the great serpent makes to land; And all are marshalled in one flaming square Against the gods, upon the plains of heaven. I mourn thee, that thou canst not help us then.” He spake; but Balder answered him, and said,-- “Mourn not for me! Mourn, Hermod, for the gods; Mourn for the men on earth, the gods in heaven, Who live, and with their eyes shall see that day! The day will come, when fall shall Asgard’s towers, And Odin, and his sons, the seed of heaven; But what were I, to save them in that hour? If strength might save them, could not Odin save, My father, and his pride, the warrior Thor, Vidar the silent, the impetuous Tyr? I, what were I, when these can naught avail? Yet, doubtless, when the day of battle comes, And the two hosts are marshalled, and in heaven The golden-crested cock shall sound alarm, And his black brother-bird from hence reply, And bucklers clash, and spears begin to pour,-- Longing will stir within my breast, though vain. But not to me so grievous as, I know, To other gods it were, is my enforced Absence from fields where I could nothing aid; For I am long since weary of your storm Of carnage, and find, Hermod, in your life Something too much of war and broils, which make Life one perpetual fight, a bath of blood. Mine eyes are dizzy with the arrowy hail; Mine ears are stunned with blows, and sick for calm. Inactive therefore let me lie, in gloom, Unarmed, inglorious; I attend the course Of ages, and my late return to light, In times less alien to a spirit mild, In new-recovered seats, the happier day.” He spake, and the fleet Hermod thus replied:-- “Brother, what seats are these, what happier day? Tell me, that I may ponder it when gone.” And the ray-crownèd Balder answered him,-- “Far to the south, beyond the blue, there spreads Another heaven, the boundless. No one yet Hath reached it. There hereafter shall arise The second Asgard, with another name. Thither, when o’er this present earth and heavens The tempest of the latter days hath swept, And they from sight have disappeared and sunk, Shall a small remnant of the gods repair; Hoder and I shall join them from the grave. There re-assembling we shall see emerge From the bright ocean at our feet an earth More fresh, more verdant than the last, with fruits Self-springing, and a seed of man preserved, Who then shall live in peace, as now in war. But we in heaven shall find again with joy The ruined palaces of Odin, seats Familiar, halls where we have supped of old; Re-enter them with wonder, never fill Our eyes with gazing, and rebuild with tears. And we shall tread once more the well-known plain Of Ida, and among the grass shall find