Classic Poem

1.

BALDER'S Birth -SONG .

There blent with his growing
The leaf and the flower,
The wind lightly blowing
Its balm from afar,
The smile of the sunshine,
The sob of the shower,
The beam of the moonshine,
The gleam of the star.
'Mid shining of faces
And waving of wings,
With gifts from all places
Came beautiful things;
The blush from the blossom,
The bloom from the corn,
Blent into his bosom,
Ere Balder was born.

As a rainbow in heaven
Was woven the rune,
The colours were seven
Most dim and divine:
Thro' regions of thunder
Serene swam the moon,
With white rays of wonder
Completing the sign.
The snow-star was gleaming
Cold, silent, and clear,
Its bright image beaning
Deep down in the mere;
The night grew profounder,
The earth slept forlorn,
With the drift wrapt around her
Ere Balder was born.

Beside a waste water
Lay Frea alone,
In Asgard they sought her,
To earth she had crept;
The Father was sitting
Snow-white on his throne,
The night-clouds were flitting,
The wind-harps were swept.
No eyes divine found her —
She lay as one dead —
Vast forests around her,
Black vapours o'erhead, —
She saw not, — she heard not, —
But weary and worn,
Snow-shrouded, she stirred not,
Ere Balder was born.

There, hid from the Father,
She brooded below,
In realms where pines gather
Ice-robed and ice-crown'd,
And the great trees were drooping,
Struck down by the snow,
With chilly arms stooping
To touch the white ground.
While whirlwinds were weaving
Their raiment of cloud,
She sat there conceiving,
Dark, brooding, and bow'd;
But where the boughs thicken'd
A bird song one morn, —
And she kindled and quicken'd,
Ere Balder was born.

Then by that great water,
Within the dark woods,
The dawn broke, and brought her
A glimmer of Spring!
The gray geese came crying
Far over the floods,
The black crane pass'd, flying
With slow waft of wing.
And when the moon's silver
Was shed on the mere,
The cry of the culver
Was heard far and near,
And the owls to each other
Made answers forlorn, —
And she smiled, the sad Mother,
Ere Balder was born.

Then the peace and the splendour
Of powers of the night,
And the strength that grows tender
Where dusk rivers run,
The beam of the moonshine,
The soft starry light,
And the first smile of sunshine,
Were woven in one.
And they mingled within her
With motions of earth
To strengthen and win her
To mystical birth; —
By the pangs of a woman
The goddess was torn,
Ere, with heart of the human,
God Balder was born.

The wind-gods were blowing
Their trumpets of might,
The skies were still snowing,
And dark was the wold, —
With a rock for her pillow
Lay Frea that night,
Beneath a great willow
All leafless and cold —
But the earth to strange motion
Was stirring around,
And the ice of the ocean
Had split with shrill sound; —
When coldly upspringing
Arose the red morn,
To a sound as of singing
Bright Balder was born!

His hair was as golden
As lily-hearts be,
When, softly unfolden,
From black tarns they rise, —
The lights of the azure,
The shades of the sea,
Blent into the pleasure
Of beautiful eyes;
Like the aspen that lingers
Where waters run fleet
Was the touch of his fingers,
The thrill of his feet;
White, white as the blossom
That blows on the thorn,
On Frea's fair bosom
Bright Balder was born.

While soften'd and sadden'd
With love shone her face,
Uplooking he gladden'd
And clung to her breast,
For a light as of summer
Swept over the place.
When the shining new-comer
Awoke from his rest!
And the willow and alder
Thrill'd out unto bloom,
And the lilac brought Balder
Its light and perfume,
While the merle sable-suited
Sang merry by morn,
And with bill of gold fluted
That Balder was born!

At the notes of the singer
The sun glimmer'd gay,
And touch'd with bright finger
The child as he stirred!
For the snow from the mountains
Was melting away,
And the sound of the fountains
Upleaping was heard;
And the black soil was broken
To radiance of flowers,
While the Bow for a token
Gleam'd down thro' the showers;
Deep under the fallow
Now sprouted the corn,
And swift flash'd the swallow,
For Balder was born!

Yea, again up in heaven
Was rainbow'd the rune,
And the colours were seven
Most dim and divine:
Sweet creatures work'd under
The sun and the moon,
Completing the wonder
With whisper and sign.
With eyes brightly gleaming
The squirrel came near,
In flocks swam the lemming
Across the great mere,
And the gold-speckled spider
Found Frea that morn,
And was busy beside her
When Balder was born.

And with him came waking
The leaf and the flower,
The wind lightly shaking
Its balm from afar,
The smile of the sunshine,
The sob of the shower,
The beam of the moonshine,
The gleam of the star.
'Mid shining of faces
And waving of wings,
With gifts from all places
Came beautiful things;
By night-time and day-time
No life was forlorn,
'Twas leaf-time, 'twas May-time,
And Balder was born.

Yet the spell had been woven
Long ages ago,
That the clouds should be cloven,
The Father undone,
When the light of the sunshine,
The white of the snow,
And the starshine and moonshine,
Were mingled in one;
When the wind and the water,
The star and the flower,
Found a goddess, and brought her
Their strength for a dower;
Yea, in runes it was written,
With letters forlorn,
That the gods should be smitten
When Balder was born.

Then roar'd the mad thunder
From regions afar,
And the world darken'd under
That wrath of the skies,
But the new-born, upleaping
As bright as a star,
Awoke from his sleeping
With love in his ears; —
And the dark rain ceased falling,
With slow silvern thrills,
And the cuckoo came, calling
Aloud on the hills,
And the glad Earth uplifted
Her face to the morn,
And past the storm drifted,
For Balder was born.

... In the sedge of the river
The swan makes its nest;
In the mere, with no quiver,
Stands shadow'd the crane;
Earth happy and still is,
Peace dwells in her breast,
And the lips of her lilies
Drink balm from the rain;
The lamb in the meadow
Upsprings with no care,
Deep in the wood's shadow
Is born the young bear;
The ash and the alder,
The flowers and the corn,
All waited for Balder, —
And Balder is born!

II.

H IS G ROWTH AND G ODHEAD .

Lovely as light and blossoms are,
And gentle as the dew,
A white god stainless as a star,
Deep-hidden, Balder grew.

For in the time when violets grow,
And birds sing thro' the showers,
Pale Frea left the child below,
Upon a bank of flowers.

And heavenward now on weary feet
The mighty goddess flies,
And kneeleth at the Father's seat,
And gazeth in his eyes.

Around her in those shadowy halls
The great gods darkly tread.
" Where is thy child?" each cold voice calls;
Calmly she answereth, " Dead.

" The arrows of the gods are keen,
An infant's heart is mild;
Buried within the forest green,
Now slumbereth my child.

" The robin strewed him o'er with leaves,
And closed his eyes of blue,
And overhead the spider weaves
Her rune of silk and dew."

Pale at the mighty banquet board
The Mother sat in pain:
The great gods smiling, with no word,
Drank deep, and breathed again. . . .

But down within the forest dim
The child divine lies quick!
The slanted sunlight comes to him
Thro' branches woven thick.

He drinks no nurture of the breast,
No mother's kiss he knows;
Warm as a song bird in its nest
He feels the light, and grows.

Around him flock all gentle things
Which range the forest free;
Each shape that blooms, each shape that sings,
Looks on him silently.

The light is melted on his lips
And on his eyes of blue,
And from the shining leaves he sips
The sweetness of the dew.

And slowly like an earthborn child
He learns to walk and run —
A forest form, with laughter wild,
He wanders in the sun.

And now he knows the great brown bear,
And sitteth with its young,
And of their honey takes his share,
Sucking with thirsty tongue.

Around him as he comes and goes
There clings a golden mist,
And in his bright hair blooms a rose,
And a bird sings on his wrist!

And wheresoe'er he sets his feet
Fair ferns and flowers spring,
And honevsuckles scented sweet
Grow where his fingers cling.

He calls, and wood-doves at the cry
Come down to be caress'd;
Curl'd in his arms the lynx will lie,
Its lips against his breast.

O look into his happy eyes,
As lustrous as the dew!
A light like running water lies
Within their depths of blue;

And there the white cloud's shadow dim
Stirs, mirror'd soft and gray,
And far within the dream-dews swim
With melancholy ray.

Ev'n thus in beauteous shape he grows,
Unknown, unseen, unheard,
And night by night he takes repose
Like any flower or bird.

He drinks the balmy breath of Earth.
He feels the light and rain,
Till, like a thing of mortal birth,
He shares her peace or pain.

A wild white shape with wondering eyes
He walks by wood and stream,
And softly on his spirit lies
The burthen of a dream.

His hair is like the midnight sun's,
All golden-red and bright;
But radiance as of moonrise runs
Upon his limbs of white.

And now the wood without a sound
Hushes its leaves in dread:
Beauty and mystery surround
The silence of his tread.

Quietly as a moonbeam creeps
He moves from place to place;
Soft steals the starlight, as he sleeps,
To breathe upon his face.

The ground grows green beneath his feet,
While, trembling on the stem,
The pale flowers drink again, full sweet,
The breath he draws from them.

Now brightly gleams the soft green sod,
The golden seeds are sown;
O pale white lily of a god,
Thou standest now full blown!