THE FIRST. Flames of Nastroud
Blaze away!
The deepmost deeps feel
Valhall's May.
THE SECOND. Flames whose roaring
With dismay
E'en Asa hears,
Fate's voice obey.
ROTA. Poisonous blazes
Harden a spear
For Valhall's May!
ALL THREE. Poisonous blazes
Harden a spear
For Valhall's May.
ROTA. Whom it woundeth
It shall slay.
THE FIRST. Whom it woundeth
It shall slay.
THE SECOND. Whom it woundeth
It shall slay.
ALL THREE. Whom it woundeth
It shall slay.
ROTA (takes the spear from the fire and goes towards the other altar).
Enough, enough! Now will we in the caldron
Cool its red point--now backward turns the circle,
And as we turn, the life of him turns backward
Whom the spear smites; as quench'd are Nastroud's sparkles
Vanish shall the life of him it woundeth.
[She retains the spear in her hand, and all three march round the
caldron.
ALL THREE. In juice of rue,
And trefoil too;
In marrow of bear
And blood of Trold,
Be cool'd the spear,
Three times cool'd,
When not from blazes
Which Nastroud raises
For Valhall's May.
ROTA (she dips it in, and then immediately gives it to the first
VALKYRIE, who does the same, and then hands it to the second, likewise
dips it in the caldron; meanwhile they sing:)
THE FIRST. Whom it woundeth
It shall slay.
THE SECOND. Whom it woundeth
It shall slay.
ALL THREE. Whom it woundeth
It shall slay.
[ROTA takes the spear. The VALKYRIER and the cavern disappear. The
scene appears the same as in the first of this act. The tempest still
continues to rage.
HOTHER. Evanished! sunken! sorcery surroundeth
My every step, and ties the arm of Hother.
Fool that I am! the moon will soon break over
Gevar's high rocks; and I, by Hothbrod's ashes,
Like one who fearfully will prolong existence,
I'm paying heed to phantoms. Vanfred! Vanfred!
Fiend, who didst vow me friendship I detested!
Say, where is now the spear which kills for certain?
LOKE. Thou saw'st it.
HOTHER. Ha! I saw! I saw! Where is it?
LOKE. Do I not know that Odin's maids prepar'd it
Only for thee, that fate will only suffer
Thine arm in Balder's heart to thrust it?
HOTHER. Lately
Thou saidst, think'st thou they wish the death of Balder?
But now against him they the weapon harden;
Now Valhall's maidens hate the noble half-god.
Hence with thy contradictions, false deceiver!
LOKE. I have already said that I seduced them;
My subtlety, not they, the spear has harden'd.
HOTHER. Good now! thy subtlety! how nobly Hother
Passes the night! Proceed with thy narration.
LOKE. Then hear. Thou dost remember Rota's present.
The spear which set the haughty half-god kneeling,
That shiver'd I, and brought it unto Rota.
I borrowed Tyr's, the Asa's dress and figure.
"Behold," I cried, "thy spear, thou crafty Rota!
Late at a Jotun's foot I found it lying,
Sent from the Leir-King's hand; it still was buzzing,
For strong is Hother's arm; I knew the weapon,
And I, who trusted in thy art, I shouted.
Now ill it stands with yonder mountain Jotun;
But loud he laugh'd, and straight the lance upsnatching,
He shiver'd it, and here, O crafty Rota!
Here bring I back to thee the precious fragments!"
With joy I saw her eyes with fury flashing,
She swore by Odin's arm, by all the powers,
And by the highest Godhead--by Allfather,
Restless to search till she a spear discover'd
With power to slay the strongest son of Ymer,
And all who could be slain. She swore and vanished.
Then seem'd it--then, by Haela's mists, then seem'd it
As if fate only for that oath had waited.
Three times above me thunder'd the high Norna;
She spake; but terrible is Skulda's thunder;
I cannot bear its sound; I swift departed;
But soon was conscious of our spear's discovery.
Then thou didst call-- But hear the heavy pinions!
'Tis she! 'tis Rota! I aside must hasten;
For Valhall's maids detest me. [LOKE goes aside.
HOTHER, and presently the Valkyrie ROTA.
HOTHER (he pursues LOKE with a contemptuous look). Outcast!
Ha! dastard slave! and thou didst swear me friendship!
No, ne'er hast thou been Hother's friend, thou traitor,
But the sworn enemy of the gods and virtue!
ROTA (handing him the fatal spear with a half-averted countenance). Here,
son of Hothbrod! here, my much-lov'd warrior!
Receive this spear, and use it as--
HOTHER. Thou weepest!
ROTA. Thou saw'st my tear--dear and noble the blood is
Which it forebodes; but do thou use this weapon!
Yet 'tis no gift of mine--'tis that of Skulda.
HOTHER. I know thou fearest for the generous Balder;
But, noble maid, if thou my heart see'st into,
Thou know'st that he is safe as Thor in Valhall.
ROTA. Think'st thou to thwart the Norna's will, young hero?
She pointed out the hidden tree; she bade me
Break off the bough of death; she bade me harden
Its point in Nastroud's flames; she-- But what will I?
My tears are wasted, like thy noble project.
Well, then: use thou this spear! Death is its surname,
And whom it smites eternal sleep shall fetter
In Haelheim's silent night, if he is mortal;
The immortal demon, whose eye by hate and wickedness
Is clouded, 'twill plunge to torments of a thousand winters.
Mark that, and use it well! Thy breast is noble;
But him, the wretch! who breathest poison in it,
(Full well I know he's near) him shalt thou punish.
[ROTA disappears.
HOTHER, and presently LOKE.
HOTHER. Now, now! is all a dream? Yet, I've the weapon!
How welcome death! my noble foe no longer
Shall hide thee from me, nor of thee deprive me;
Now can I keep what I have sworn! O Nanna!
I bring a noble offering to thy virtue!
[He is going, but LOKE meets him at the entrance.
LOKE. Whither? thou Fortune's fav'rite!
HOTHER (sharply). Ha! to Haelheim.
LOKE. Hother, I scoff thy wise determination.
HOTHER (incensed). Thou scoffest?
LOKE. Yes, thou holdest thy foeman's life,
And thou wilt die.
HOTHER. What foeman's?
LOKE. Whose, if not Balder's?
HOTHER. Ah, my life he gave me!
And though I hold the gift in little value,
I took it still. And shall his lofty spirit
His downfall prove? Shall I, shall Hother punish
The pity I craved not?
LOKE. By Hael! he's coming!
Waste not the moments in these foolish visions.
HOTHER. What wouldst thou?
LOKE. Stand behind that pine, and kill him!
HOTHER. Ha! dastard slave!
[He strikes LOKE on the head with the spear, and he instantly sinks
howling into the earth. He is no sooner out of sight than everything
becomes quiet. The sun rises in its full majesty. After HOTHER has for
some time looked on all this with astonishment, he says:
Like thee fall every traitor
Who breatheth wickedness in the Skiolding's bosom!
Ha, Balder! [He goes somewhat aside.