And the two hosts are marshall'd, 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 stunn'd with blows, and sick for calm. Inactive therefore let me lie, in gloom, Unarm'd, inglorious; I attend the course Of ages, and my late return to light, In times less alien to a spirit mild, In new-recover'd 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-crowned Balder answer'd him:-- "Far to the south, beyond the blue, there spreads Another Heaven, the boundless--no one yet Hath reach'd 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 disappear'd, 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 ruin'd palaces of Odin, seats Familiar, halls where we have supp'd 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 The golden dice wherewith we play'd of yore; And that will bring to mind the former life And pastime of the Gods, the wise discourse Of Odin, the delights of other days, O Hermod, pray that thou may'st join us then! Such for the future is my hope; meanwhile, I rest the thrall of Hela, and endure Death, and the gloom which round me even now Thickens, and to its inner gulph recalls. Farewell, for longer speech is not allow'd!" He spoke, and waved farewell, and gave his hand To Nanna; and she gave their brother blind Her hand, in turn, for guidance; and the three Departed o'er the cloudy plain, and soon Faded from sight into the interior gloom. But Hermod stood beside his drooping horse, Mute, gazing after them in tears; and fain, Fain had he follow'd their receding steps, Though they to death were bound, and he to Heaven,