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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
BALDUR THE BEAUTIFUL: RAGNAROK, by GRACE DENIO LITCHFIELD Poet's Biography First Line: No fleeter follows echo on the sound Last Line: "baldur the beautiful! Alas! Alas!" Subject(s): Goddesses & Gods; Mythology; Mythology - Greek | |||
No fleeter follows echo on the sound, Than sprang the gods at Odin's summons forth, Obedience and love conjoined, in speed Outvying each his jealous brother god. Comets a-race with comets, suns with suns, Less swift had traversed space, and in a breath Throughout the universe their word was told. Grief hath been in the world since time began, Life's first and latest birthright; every soul Hides somewhere its unplumbed abyss of pain. But never yet was lamentation known Like this for Baldur, nor through time to come In sorrow's annals shall again be writ. No eye withheld the desired sign of dole. Not Dante did so weep for Beatrice; Not Niobe bedewed her marble feet With bitterer tears for all her children slain; Nor did forsaken Dido on her pyre More plentiful a show of sorrow make. Neither were hearts of human mould alone Moved to complaint. Even the merciless beasts, Missing their moons, most piteous mourned. The birds Re-tuned their chants to brooding threnodies Sad as were his who wept Eurydice. Yea, ev'n the careless blundering things that creep, Or whir, or swim, forgot their fretting wants Before that greater want of all the worlds. No farthest sun but shed a glittering tear, Bedewing arid space with grief. The sky Was all a sprinkle of wet stars. Bifröst Pellucid gleamed through veil of jewelled spray. The heavy-hearted clouds trailed low, and wept In dreary monotone of melancholy; Deucalion from Parnassus' sacred peak Saw not so sad a flow. The drooping night Shook moisture from her plumes. Each dew-tipped leaf Quivered beneath its load, and every flower Treasured within its heart a fragrant tear. No grass-blade but uphung the crystal sign. No trembling tree but somewhere pricked its veins And bled an amber drop. The rivers ran Hoarse with long sobbing. The disquiet winds Wailed out their heartache through the sighing pines. The pale mists wavering pressed from bole to bole Like the dim exhalation of a prayer. The seas upon the shingles crashed and broke, Thundering out their woe. The shivering sands Whispered their sorrow o'er and o'er again In ceaseless repetition through slow hours. The heavy breeze crept, damply odorous, Along the sodden ground. The very earth The very rockssweated and groaned with grief, And everywhere uprose the breathless cry "Baldur the Beautifulthe Goodreturn!" As now the Æsir, satisfied and sure, Their mission well completed, rode at ease Their frothing chargers o'er the Bridge Bifröst Toward Asgard bent, Bragi the Silver-Mouthed, Wand'ring apart with heedless rein, his lips Outbreathing Baldur's name unwittingly As when a slumbering bird dreams out a song Softer than memoried music, chanced upon A quarried cell bewrayed by noisome stench From rotting vines and oozing carrion heaps. There, 'mid the dizzy shadows and the drip Of mouldy walls where moist misshapen things Or crawled, or lurked in foul black-crusted webs, Squatted inert upon a loathsome mat Of woven snakes sat Thaukt, her lurid eyes Twin torches lighting up the purple gloom With baleful fire that withered aught it touched. Bragi, amazed, in haste unhorsed himself, And bending his bright head, unhelmeted, To match the meaner compass of the vault, Found way within, and so contrived his tale As best should wing it past a careless ear To the heart's full conception. Thaukt, the hag She who sat, squalid, on the pulsing mat Unmoved transfixed him with her cold bright eye. "Naught, quick or dead, gain I by gift of tear For Baldur slain," churlish she answered him. "Let Hela hold what's hers." "Boundless thy gain," Bragi avowed, "regaining Baldur's soul Light for thy murk, beauty and joy and good For this thy misery and gracelessness." "To mole or bat the night is fair as noon," Sneered Thaukt. "That which by choice is mine, as good And beautiful already me beseems. I crave not Baldur back. Till Ragnarök Let Hela hold what's hers." "Nay," Bragi urged; And as the wind, with age-long griefs endued, Falters and breaks and fails and grieves again, So shook his voice, freighted with sympathy. "If not for thine own need, grant but a tear In pity for the need of all the worlds." "What is 't to me," she flung athwart his speech With snarling tongue, "though craven dogs night-long Bay hopeless at the moon? Pities the sea The shore its white lips suck? Pities the storm The wheat its sickle slays? Pities the flame The thing it feeds upon? Pities the gale The leaf, the frost the flower, the worm the fruit? Then wherefore I the grief that is not mine?" "Not thine?" he challenged. "Sure mine ear mistook! Is not one spirit father of the worlds, Through heritage of whose informing breath All are akin? As rivers seek the main, Merged evermore in its immensity, Quickening currents of a common heart, So soul seeks soul, blending in brotherhood, Eternally interfused, eternally one A single pulse, athrob through myriad veins. How then shall not another's woe be thine, His pain thy pain, his need thine inmost own?" "Not so," she said. "My life alone is mine. Leave me unvext." Then he, incredulous That thing so weak held power to uncreate A scheme so potent, bared of patience, cried: "No life is his alone that lives it! Each Imports to all, and all import to each, Bound by the self-same law of fellowship That links the suns each to his neighbour star. Who art thou that deniest brotherhood? How hast so unlearnt love, forgot compassion, Severed the time-old chain 'twixt thee and thine? Who art thou?" "By thy showing, Hate am I, And Misery my chosen dwelling-place," Gibing she answered from the hissing snakes. "Curse thee, begone! Room is not in my breast For love, nor pity, nor desire of good." "Now by my sword that leaps within its sheath, Here will I slay thee in thy monster blood!" Swore Bragi, fiercely gripped with sudden wrath. Then calmer spake, minded her yet to win. "I err. Forgive. Hate slain were not love shown. Naught boots thy death. Flawless and perfect love Alone may ransom Baldur's perfect soul. How win thee to that love? How pity teach For need thou hast not known?" Lo, as he ceased, And silence fell between them for a space, From Midgard rose the sorrowing peoples' cry, A low sad plaint bewailed from star to star, And lost upon the void in shattered sounds. THE CRY OF THE PEOPLES Splendour of all the worlds, O Light The brightest suns transcending, Vast as thy glory is our night Unstarlit and unending. Like wandering souls a-craze with thirst From waste savannas crying, By phantom oases accurst, Who dream they drink while dying, So we, blind-eyed and terror-bound, Groping through gloom supernal, Dream that our faltering feet have found Source of thy springs eternal. Splendour of all the unsunned spheres, Shine down these desert spaces! Strike from our souls the numbing fears The horror from our faces. Darkness entombs us as in stone, Heart sealed from heart for ever. Each wind-breath bears a smothered moan. Hope lifts her beacon never. Oh, though all else the Norns deny, Allow our last petition! Light! Light! Give light, or grant we die! Deathor immortal vision! "Didst heed?" asked Bragi. "Needs there aught beside? Canst still withhold the succour of thy tears?" "Avaunt!" she said, and spat upon the ground. "Thou weariest me." And through grim lowering lids Her fiery eyes burned knowledge in on him. "Loki!" appalled he cried. "Loki! Loki! For all thy strange misshapement, it is thou! Loki! O Cruelty incorporate! Oh, blacker than the blasted Elves of Dark! Accurst! Accurst!" "That which I am, I am Immortally. Hela shall keep her own," Said Thaukt, and malice glittered in her face. And now not Thaukt, but Loki, towered there, His beauteous form upon the coiling snakes Mounted as on a throne, his evil eyes Lit with the inextinguishable fire Of hate triumphant, his god's shape distort With joy ungodly, power malignant, grace Ungraced, beauty for aye undeified. And Bragi knewthe certitude proclaimed As by a searing boltBaldur the Good For ever lost to Asgard. Thereupon, Voicing an unendurable despair, From his racked breast broke cry so piercing shrill That all the homeward-wending Æsir heard. Dismayed, quick scenting sorrow and defeat, They flung their chargers round, and straight and swift, As shredded clouds that fly before the gale, Sought out the sound, and at the cavern's mouth Formed crescent-wise, a glistening company Of shining shields, their lifted lances like A silver palisade, each splendid brow In miserable suspicion sternly set. There, at their hands, justly unmerciful, Loki, as once Prometheus, met his doom To three torn crags bound trebly fast with thongs From out his agonising vitals wrought, While close suspended o'er his shuddering flesh, A serpent drop by drop spilled down its gall. And as the isles shook when Enceladus 'Neath Ætna stirred, so quaked the palsied world At every throb of his tormented frame. O Ragnarök! O Twilight of the gods! O Day of Odin feared! Till Ragnarök Shall Loki's doom endure. Till Ragnarök Shall Hel hold Baldur. Odin, Odin alone, The great All-Father, in his prescient heart Foresees its boded terrors. Bitter woe Shall herald that late dawning; horror and crime Shall walk the highway bare and unashamed, Kinship forgotten in fierce greed of gain. Then seasons of unconquerable cold shall be Such as no land e'er winteredglacial frosts, Tumultuous sword-edged winds, unhallowed skies, And snows from all four corners of the world, With flakes as linted clouds. Then prodigies Vast and calamitous shall follow swift Fenrir, the giant wolf, swallow the sun, Hati devour the moon, and Jörmungard Vomit envenomed floods, stars drop like rain, Midgard scatter its hills as dust, its seas Toss out as bursting bubbles. In that hour, After uncounted ages still to dawn, Shall Heaven itself be cleft in twain, and through The immeasurable breach, from Muspell, Land of Light, Shall all her sons come, Surtur at their head, Surtur the Mighty, helmed and shod with flame, His sword the sun outshining. And beneath The tread of that indomitable host, Bifröst, the Rainbow Bridge, like shivered glass Shall crack and splinter. Then shall Heimdall seize The Gjallar Horn, and blow a hideous blast The cry of ultimate fear, whose note of doom, Beating from frightened world to world, shall die In utter wastes beyond. Even Yggdrasil Shall tremble through its branched and rooted length. In that dread day of Ragnarök shall naught Be unpossessed of terror. Nathless, led By Odin the All-Father, king of gods, Arrayed for death in timeless majesty, The Æsir, with Valhalla's warriors, Shall range them on the bewildering battlefield, Vigrid, the field of blood. There shall attend Muspell's refulgent band, apart and still, Proof-clad in brightness unapproachable. And there shall gather all Hel's followers, With Loki and his fearful progeny Freed from their mammoth chainsFenrir, the wolf, The stretch of whose vast jaws encloses Heaven, And Jörmungard, the serpent, he whose tail The round of Earth encircles in its coil, And Garm, the dog, worst monster of the three. Then dazzled, blinded, frenzied, shall the gods Rush on their doom, foe leaping upon foe In such a conflict of inordinate strengths As since Titanic times, when thunderbolts Were arrows, hills were slingstones, hath not yet Been known to story. Odin with the wolf Shall furiously engage, nor bear himself Less resolute than did Olympian Jove Contending with Typhus for his throne. But skill nor valour shall advantage him. For as relentless Night upon the Day Creeps step by step, beats back the radiant shafts With huge black bulk opposed, stretches agape Stupendous red-rimmed jaws and inch by inch O'ertakes and swallows up its glory, so, With one last straight-armed thrust of flashing spear, Shall Odin die. Then tenfold multiplied Shall fury animate the warring hosts. Fenrir, sore wounded, shall in Vidar's grip Yield his foul breath. Thor, magic-gauntleted, Shall slaughter Jörmungard, and ere his foot Hath pressed nine paces onward, shall lie prone, Stifled with its black gall. Heimdall shall leap On Loki, and they twain, fire blent with fire, A blazing one, as one shall fail and sink An extinguished flame. Ev'n thus intrepid Tyr, With Garm in combat, shall lie dead beside His strangled foe. So each shall seek his mate, Inexorably armed with equal rage. So each shall fall, victor by victim slain One triumph, one reward, one death for all. Alone the sons of Muspell, radiant With lustre insupportable, shall still Aloof and silent stand, their dazzling breath Outblown upon the wind like fiery flowers That blossom as they perish. Then, ah, then Surtur the Mighty shall unfold the gates Of the far South! Swift from the luminous land, Muspell, shall pour an incandescent flood In mass and brilliance comparable to naught The mind hath power to image, that shall sweep From end to end of the wide universe, Worlds, with their moons, for fuel piled on worlds; Suns tossed on suns; systems on systems heaped; Meteors for sparks, comets for kindling straws; And at the last, to the minutest ash, Extinction absolute; space cleansed and bare. So shall the imperfect order of the old Be done away, as Odin, king of gods, Anguished foreknows; and from the Land of Light, From the bright bosom of its burning seas, Shall rise amain a new fair firmament Star-filled: a new sun in the highest Heaven More glorious than all the suns that were, And a new Earth, lovely and verdurous, Whose day shall end not, nor whose summer fade. And lo! a new Asgard shall be again, With nobler halls, where greater gods shall keep A more exalted state. And in their midst, Won back from Hel, sceptred and crowned with light, Baldur the Beautiful shall live for aye, And Night, and Hate, and Woe shall be no more. This Odin's vast omniscient eye foresees, Piercing futurity with wisdom bought From Mimir's limpid well, and evermore The knowledge like a wanton weed o'erruns The garden of his thoughts. But in his soul He shuts the vision close, and dwells apart, Disjoined by wisdom, from the multitude. Thus still he sits, majestic and remote, Upon his disillusioned, darkened throne, Watching the moving worlds, aye and anon Catching the gleam, intolerably bright, From far Muspell; then bows his august head, And murmurs: "Ragnarök!" And still doth Heimdall blow the Gjallar Horn; And still the Æsir their white horses ride Across the Rainbow Bridge with idle shield And lowered lance; still meet in Asgard's Halls, And under mighty Yggdrasil discourse Of great deeds done and greater yet to do Thor with his mallet, Tyr with handless wrist Reck not of Fenrir, nor of Jörmungard, Safe fettered both, with Garm, the monster dog; Laugh when Earth trembles under Loki's throes; Taste of Idun's well-guarded golden fruit, And, young again, forget dread Ragnarök Somewhat, as swift the centuries slip by, Forget ev'n Baldur. But, from Fensalir Where Frigga sits, who listens close may note Day following day, year following year, a sigh Upon the fainting breeze float softly past, May see a tear drop with the dew, may catch A distant cry of love unutterable "Baldur! alas! Baldur, my son, my son! Baldur the Beautiful! Alas! Alas!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ADONIS IN SUMMER by KENNETH REXROTH ADONIS IN WINTER by KENNETH REXROTH IMITATIONS OF SHAKESPEARE: PROGNE'S DREAM by JOHN ARMSTRONG TO A YOUNG POET by ANNA BUNSTON DE BARY SONNET (SUGGESTED BY THE 'PHOEBUS WITH ADMETUS' BY GEORGE MEREDITH) by FORD MADOX FORD AGAMEMNON by LUCIUS ANNAEUS SENECA HERCULES ON OETA by LUCIUS ANNAEUS SENECA MAD HERCULES by LUCIUS ANNAEUS SENECA A BIRTHDAY SONG by GRACE DENIO LITCHFIELD |
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