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So on the floor lay Balder dead; and round Lay thickly strewn swords axes darts and spears Which all the Gods in sport had idly thrown At Balder, whom no weapon pierc'd or clove: But in his breast stood fixt the fatal bough Of mistletoe, which Lok the Accuser gave To Hoder, and unwitting Hoder threw : 'Gainst that alone had Balder's life no charm. And all the Gods and all the Heroes came
And stood round Balder on the bloody floor
Weeping and wailing; and Valhalla rang
And in the horns and gold-rimm'd sculls the wine :
And thus the Father of the Ages spake:
"Enough of tears, ye Gods, enough of wail!
Not to lament in was Valhalla made.
any here might weep for Balder's death I most might weep, his Father; such a son I lose today, so bright, so lov'd a God.
But he has met that doom which long ago
And Fate set seal, that so his end must be.
Balder has met his death, and
ye survive :
Weep him an hour; but what can grief avail?
For you yourselves, ye Gods, shall meet your doom,
All ye who hear me, and inhabit Heaven,