“So hath it been with thee, Frithiof. Passion and thirst for vengeance rose within thee, and Balder’s temple sank to earth in ashes. Now thou seekest atonement; but knowest thou its meaning rightly? Nay, boldly meet my gaze and turn not pale, O youth! But one atoner is there on our earth—his name is Death. All time itself is but a troubled stream from vast eternity; atonement came from the All-Father’s throne to restore us thither purified. The high gods, too, have sinned. Their day of battle, the Twilight of the Gods, is their atonement, and from their fall a higher life shall rise. Ah, bloody is the day that sees their strife with the powers of evil! The golden-combed cock that sits on Odin’s golden palace doth shrilly call to arms. Bursting his chains, up springs the giant wolf from the abyss; the earth-enveloping serpent writhes in fury; boiling and foaming, the sea o’erflows the land; the whole earth shakes; mountains crash together; the Tree of Life groans and trembles; in terror flee the shades that hover about the path of the dead. On the corpse-ship, made from the nails of the unburied dead, Loke, the wolf Fenris, and the giant Hrymer ride to join the battle. On come the flame giants, their swords gleaming like the red glow of the forge. Over the rainbow bridge they gallop—with a frightful crash it breaks beneath their horses’ tread; the heavens are rent asunder; thunder peals sound from pole to pole; the shouts of terrified mortals mingle with the groans of the dwarfs, who, pale and trembling, cower in their rocky caverns. “But already have the gods and heroes donned their shining armor, and, led by Odin, crowned with his golden circlet and shaking aloft his gleaming spear, over Vigrid’s boundless plain they move in mighty train. There arrayed against each other stand the hosts, and the strife begins. Spears hiss, swords clash, the battle-cries of gods and giants fill the air; the furious bellowing of the serpent and the howling of Fenris shake the dome of heaven. One by one the gods are slain; but not unavenged do they perish, for the powers of evil also fall to rise no more, while from the flames of the world they rise to higher life. Aye, though the stars fall from the heavens and the earth is buried deep beneath the waves, yet newly born, the abode of man once more arises from the waters; a new sun shines on smiling mead and golden harvest. Then shall those golden runic tablets, lost in Time’s far dawning and graven with the wisdom of the gods, again be found amid the springing grass. “Struggle and death are but the fiery proof of virtue; atonement another birth to higher life. The best, the happiest part of our existence, lies beyond the grave-mound; low and deep-stained with guilt and error is all we find ’neath heaven’s starlit dome.