Balder.  Ay, doth she!

Thor.  That rejoices thee?  Thou ravest.

Balder.  Ah hear!—­my joy thou wilt thyself approve of.

Thor (after some reflection).  Now, noble one, I understand:  embrace me—­
Thy vict’ry’s worthy thee—­and me—­and Odin. 
On Gevar’s rocks I will myself engrave it. 
Oh! not a weak, soft-hearted maid, but Balder,
But thee, my friend—­the monster in thy bosom,
Thy love, thy foolish love, thou overcamest.

Balder.  Ah, hush thee, cruel one!  I feel I’m blushing. 
Know, I had never o’er my heart less power. 
I burn, and tremble at the thought of seeing
The flame put out by which I am tormented.

Thor.  What do I hear?  Ye heavens! can an Asa
Lose virtue thus, and all—­well, quaff thy pleasure! 
And rave and dote!  Thou lov’st and art rejected? 
How pleasurably!  By my arm, I’m thinking
The Valkyrie has touch’d thy skull already,
Thou ravest so—­I see thy fate is hastening.

Balder.  My fate’s first law is love.

Thor.  Alas, the second
Is death!

Balder.  And where’s the battle? where’s the slayer?

Thor.  The slayer?  Hother.

Balder.  Weaponless, despairing,
He wanders ’mong the rocks.  We fought.

Thor.  He liveth?

Balder.  Ah, Nanna wept.

Thor.  Curst tears! the blood of Asa
For ye must pay!

Balder.  And friend, had he the power,
Think’st thou that Hother, that the Skiolding basely
Would murder him to whom his life he oweth?

Thor.  Not so would he.  But if he must, what can he
’Gainst destiny, if she the death-spear hands him,
And guides herself his arm?

Balder.  Oh, banish, banish
Thy timid care, and hear and share my transport;
Just now, as Hother’s life I spar’d there glitter’d,
Through Nanna’s tears the first, first glimpse of pity;
Sweetly she smil’d, and granting me her friendship,
She press’d my hand with loving warmth.

Thor.  Ha! vex not
Mine ear, I pray thee, with thy follies—­little
Is Asa Thor with dastard love acquainted;
Yet can I see into her heart.  She thanks thee
For Hother’s life:  that gives thee joy?  Thou dreamest.

Balder.  My life’s the dream thou dost aspire to scatter.

Thor.  It is thy death!

Balder.  What death?  See fate accomplished! 
Behold this spear which late the Leir-King brandish’d! 
My knee grew weak:  I stagger’d when it struck me;
Yet still I live, and it to earth fell blunted.