Nanna Monologue from The Death of Balder

From The Death of Balder by Johannes Ewald

female · anguished · 1:30 min

Ah! he goes--he rages; And Balder yells with wrath. Some serpent surely Has breath'd to-day his poison in their bosoms. They hate, they seek each other! Who asunder Will hold the raging bears. Ah! who will soften The foaming ones? I have this hour expected, And long by art have I delay'd its coming; But now is art, and prayer, and all else useless: E'en now they meet in conflict. I am powerless! What can my tears avail? Alas! blood only Will satiate them and Heaven: thine must trickle, My Hother. What art thou against a half-god? When thy fire, Ourath, but glimmers, Tears can quench it instantly; But it flames, and now 'twere wonder Could the weak drops keep it under. Ah! thy blazes fierce and cruel In the lov'd one's grief find fuel, And are fann'd by plaintive cry. Tear, with which mine eye is swelling, Thou canst not remove the ill; O keep in thou fruitless wailing, Let my bosom hide thee still. [She goes.

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