True bliss, through virtue only known,
By virtue’s self deserv’d alone. 
Only for thee doth Balder sigh: 
My sad heart would a heaven disdain
Which through dishonour it must gain. 
So dear let slaves enjoyment buy! 
Yes, Balder, worthy of thyself continue! 
Canst thou wish Nanna to abandon Hother? 
Wish her whose virtue thy high soul so worships
Should weak and base become for thy advantage? 
But—­does she love him? has he won her promise? 
Who knoweth but she merely has dissembled,
And shown a fictious flame to prove thee, Balder! 
Transporting dream!

Nanna, Balder.

Nanna (rushes in, terrified).  Ha!  Balder if thou lovest—­Ah, if thou—­

Balder (casts himself at Nanna’s feet).  Heavens,
Nanna! canst thou doubt it? 
I burn, I burn!

[Whilst Nanna in her terror makes every effort to raise him, they come into a familiar attitude, in which Hother, who has slain bears, and who is wiping the blood from his spear at the moment he appears, perceives them.  He starts, and remains standing among the trees, so that he cannot hear what they say.

Nanna.  Oh, rescue then my Hother! 
Two savage bears among the bushes yonder
Attack’d him; if thou hast love for virtue,
Assist him quick; if thou delayest a moment,
The noblest heart that ever beat they’ll mangle! 
Oh! quick:  bethink thee not!

Balder.  No, cruel Nanna! 
Fear not!  My arm shall rescue him thou lovest!

[Just as he is about to rise Hother steps forward.

Hother, the last.

Hother.  Ye heavens! do I dream!  Enamour’d half-god! 
Excuse me for disturbing thee!

Balder (as he rises up).  There is he!

Nanna (goes tenderly to meet Hother).  Ah, Hother!  Ah, my Hother!

Hother (pushes her back with his hand).  Go, false woman!

Balder.  Gods, how unthankful art thou—­how ferocious! 
Can such a bear of Nanna be deserving?

Hother (takes his shield down from the tree).  Now, pay for all, and end thy prate in Valhall!

Nanna.  Savage, thou mean’st not sure—­

Hother.  Beware thee, Nanna!

Nanna.  Oh, hear me—­

Hother.  I have seen.  Go, hide thee, false one!

Nanna.  Thou wilt not sure—­

Hother.  I will!  And now, by Hothbrod,
He dieth by my hand!

Balder.  Presumptuous mortal!

Hother.  Thy shield! thy spear!  I hate all vaunt, my half-god.

Nanna (rushes towards Balder, who taketh his weapons).  O Balder! noble
Balder!

Balder.  Ah, poor Nanna! 
Thou see’st he forces me—­that death he beggeth!