BALDER. Yet will I hope! Hear, hear ye rocks! that Balder
Ventures to hope!—stern fate is now contented!
Blunted is Surtur’s spear, and Nanna wavers!
Oh virtue! which, when blood rag’d high didst triumph,
How sure, how nobly thou reward’st thy lover!
Ye rocks which so lately gave ear to my groans,
Now hear of my hope and my gladness the tones,
And reply ye proud woods that no longer seem drear;
In vain fate and heaven, oh Balder, have cas’d,
With vigour the bosom thou lovest, and placed
In the hand of the hero the sorcerer’s spear.
Oh virtue! thou still dost thy servant befriend;
Ye echoes the triumph of true love extend,
And virtue’s fair guerdon proclaim far and near.
THOR, BALDER.
THOR. Boldly resounds thy song, thou friend of battle!
So bluster from the hero’s lips the bloody
Hard-gotten vict’ries, and the slain foes’ praises,
Whilst he surveys the lonely field of slaughter,
Thou smilest, pleasure from thine eye is flashing,
Like Odin’s, when he freed the earth from danger
By watering it with blood of savage giants.
BALDER. Ha, friend! press thou thy breast unto this bosom,
And feel what lip but feebly can interpret,
Feel heaven’s rapture in my soul!
THOR. Thou ravest!
BALDER. Ah! Nanna, friend!—
THOR. Ha! now I understand thee.
And well it is, full well, that Odin’s Balder
At length by tears has soften’d Gevar’s daughter!
This triumph—
BALDER. Thou art mocking!
THOR. No, thy vict’ry
Shall to me be as one of my most prais’d ones,
As that I won from Nagaard’s gloomy demon!
Ha! it is great! It takes from me and Odin
The dastard fear which has too long tormented
Our bosoms. I no more thine ear shall weary
With vain advice. Enough! the maiden loveth.
BALDER. She loveth—yes, by Hæl! she loveth Hother.