Ye stars! what sorcery! But to me now listen! I hasten'd unto Hortha's gloomy forests, To glut myself in Roman blood; then look'd I Down from the thunder-cloud in which I journey'd, And on these towering hills my eyes I fastened; Then saw I Denmark's Hother, prince of battle, Like the rock-pine, which o'er the ocean beetles; He stood, and storm-winds with his locks were playing, Then from the brake a wolf sprang, grim and frightful, And big as Fenri's Wolf: the Skoldung saw it, And brandish'd high his spear. Forth went it booming, As booming goes from the cold North a whirlwind; Straight vanished wolf and spear; but deep a-forest Was heard as from a thousand wolves a howling. "See, see," it howl'd, "the Skoldung Hother loses His spear, and in his hand the sword is fragile. Now have we peace, and Norway's Kemps may slumber." Disturb'd at such dark sorcery, I seiz'd on The spear of steel thou see'st, and laid lightning And fiends' death on its point, when I beheld thee. THE THIRD (who hitherto has stood in deep thought). Sharp is my sight in war; but here is darkness. But do not think that chance and magic Here assembled battle's angry daughters. Allfather for the fight prepares; Allfather Assembles us with murky wink: I saw him, The mighty Thor; wroth was he, and his hammer Was in his hand. He stood by Gevar's dwelling: He spoke to me, and soon as e'er I answer'd He vanished, thundering in the eastern heavens. It is not sport, nor any childish quarrel, Be ye assured, makes Thor descend from Asgaard.

The Second Monologue from The Death of Balder

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