Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/138

100 He spoke: the mother of the gods replied,—

"Hoder, ill-fated, child of bale, my son,

Sightless in soul and eye, what words are these?

That one, long portioned with his doom of death,

Should change his lot, and fill another's life,

And Hela yield to this, and let him go!

On Balder, Death hath laid her hand, not thee;

Nor doth she count this life a price for that.

For many gods in heaven, not thou alone,

Would freely die to purchase Balder back,

And wend themselves to Hela's gloomy realm.

For not so gladsome is that life in heaven

Which gods and heroes lead, in feast and fray,

Waiting the darkness of the final times,

That one should grudge its loss for Balder's sake,—

Balder their joy, so bright, so loved a god.

But fate withstands, and laws forbid this way.

Yet in my secret mind one way I know,

Nor do I judge if it shall win or fail;

But much must still be tried, which shall but fail."

And the blind Hoder answered her, and said,—

"What way is this, O mother, that thou show'st?

Is it a matter which a god might try?"

And straight the mother of the gods replied,—

"There is a way which leads to Hela's realm,

Untrodden, lonely, far from light and heaven.

Who goes that way must take no other horse

To ride, but Sleipner, Odin's horse, alone.

Nor must he choose that common path of gods

Which every day they come and go in heaven,

O'er the bridge Bifrost, where is Heimdall's watch,

Past Midgard fortress, down to earth and men.

But he must tread a dark untravelled road

Which branches from the north of heaven, and ride