Balder (goes towards him and takes him kindly by the arm).  What ails thee, father?

Loke (as if terrified).  Aha!  I can no more!  Ah!

Balder.  Come and rest thee! 
Here lean upon my arm!

Loke.  Ah!

Balder.  How thou tremblest,
My hoary friend!  But cast thy terrors from thee—­
There thou art safe:  this breast is warmed by pity.

Loke.  Forgive me, sir; forsooth, I was confounded! 
Thou see’st in me a poor and ancient Finman. 
Far, far away from these terrific mountains,
This year I built of flags and stones my hovel;
I sought for reindeer—­all my wealth; they doubtless
Were captured by the bear!  I, wretched being! 
My sight is feeble, and the night surprised me;
The wind, as I observe too late, has shifted,
And not a star is gleaming in the heavens: 
Ah! far must be the way unto my hovel! 
My feet are wearied out, for I have wandered
The long and chilly night among the mountains.

Balder.  What wishest thou?

Loke.  I die of frost and hunger. 
Whoe’er thou art, and if thou feelest pity—­
Excuse my doubt—­yet wouldst thou save the remnant
Of life which trembles on my lips, conduct me
Straight to the cheering hearth where bask thy servants.

Balder.  The way would prove for thee too far; but see’st thou
The lofty roof behind the forest yonder,
There, there resides of earth the fairest daughter: 
Thither repair, thou fortunate old stranger! 
There she resides.—­Ah! thou wilt be to Nanna
A dear, a welcome guest!  She loves the wretched;
Her noble heart swells always with compassion
For every sufferer.  Only not—­Thou stayest! 
Why go’st thou not?

Loke.  I go; but thou wast speaking,
Methinks, of Nanna?

Balder.  Yes.

Loke.  Of Gevar’s daughter?

Balder (astonished).  Thou know’st her?

Loke.  No; but oftentimes her bridegroom
Has come fatigued with hunting, to my hovel.

Balder.  Ah who—­

Loke (turns away as if to depart).  She dwells there, does she?

Balder (seizes him by the arm).  Stay! who is the bride-groom? 
Speak, reptile, speak!  Who?  When?  Reply, thou traitor,
Or here thou diest!

Loke.  Spare me, sir, in mercy! 
I faint with terror!

Balder.  Speak! by all the powers,
Thy smallest hair is sacred!  I have promised. 
Now, speak!

Loke.  I am an old and harmless creature.

Balder.  But Nanna’s bridegroom?

Loke.  Truly, sir, I wonder,
That one like thee, a dweller ’mongst these mountains,
Should know him not, the noblest and the bravest
Of all the sons of earth.

Balder.  Ye gods of heaven! 
And who?  His name?