·-

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 with which 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,

Then; but a power he could not break withheld.

And as a stork which idle boys have trapp'd,

And tied him in a yard, at autumn sees

Flocks of his kind pass flying o'er his head

To warmer lands, and coasts that keep the sun;-
He strains to join their flight, and from his shed.
Follows them with a long complaining cry-
So Hermod gazed, and yearn'd to join his kin.
At last he sigh'd, and set forth back to Heaven.

THE STRAYED REVELLER.

THE PORTICO OF CIRCE'S PALACE. EVENING.

A Youth. Circe.

The Youth.

FASTER, faster,

O Circe, Goddess,

Let the wild, thronging train,

The bright procession

Of eddying forms,

Sweep through my soul!

Thou standest, smiling

Down on me! thy right arm

Lean'd up against the column there,

Props thy soft cheek;

Thy left holds, hanging loosely,

The deep cup, ivy-cinctured,

I held but now.

Is it then evening

So soon? I see, the night dews,

Cluster'd in thick beads, dim
The agate brooch-stones

On thy white shoulder;

The cool night-wind, too,

Blows through the portico,
Stirs thy hair, Goddess,
Waves thy white robe !

Circe.

Whence art thou, sleeper?

The Youth.

When the white dawn first
Through the rough fir-planks
Of my hut, by the chestnuts,

Up at the valley-head,
Came breaking, Goddess!

I sprang up, I threw round me

My dappled fawn-skin;

Passing out, from the wet turf,

Where they lay, by the hut door,

I snatch'd up my vine-crown, my fir-staff,