For, startled, the sleeper awoke,
Black-visaged, like storm on the skies;
But Balder sat upright, nor spoke,
Till the flames darted out of Thor’s eyes,
And the passionate silence he broke.
“Who is it, when dreaming is o’er,
Mocks me with helm like to mine,
Ungirding the armour I bore,
From the sweet silken nets that entwine?”
Quoth Balder, “Behold! I am Thor.
“I am he that was ‘Thunderer’ called,
And my fame is as wide as the world;
At my anger the rocks were appalled,
And the waves of the sea were up-curled,
But now I am weak and enthralled.
“The battle is fierce on the earth,
While I sit here idle and still;
Unfulfilled are the hopes of my birth,
For the strength of the mind is the will,
And the will is more potent than girth.
“The foes of the gods wax bold,
And they mock at the armies of heaven;
At their banquets the story is told—
‘A weak woman’s heart hath been given
To Thor, the avenger of old.’
“And the wives as they sit by the cot,
Sing, ‘Sleep, for the god cannot come;
Sleep, the avenger is not;
Hush, let his praises be dumb;
Hush, let his name be forgot.’”
Then the god, smitten with pain,
Shamèd and stung to the heart,
Knowing a god’s voice again,
Rending his fetters apart,
Sprang from the moon-lady’s chain.
Instantly vanished in night
Fountains and meadows and streams,
Never a glimmer of light
Lit up the palace of dreams,
As the god made his way, without sight,
Back to the heavenly shore,
Over mountain and wild ravine,
Morasses, and seas that roar,
Till the portals of heaven were seen
And he stood in Valhalla once more.