Long, long ago, Baldur was the favored of the gods. Of all the Aesir the most beautiful, golden and fine As the Sun, and everywhere that he went, he shone. All loved him on sight, And all agreed that Baldur was to be the next King. In his home, nothing impure was allowed, That it might not dim his glory. Yet it was Loki plotted his downfall, Tricked a blind man into killing him, And it was Hel who took him in, Took his soul to her breast. And so it was that all of Asgard wept And there was sorrow flowing everywhere, For Baldur the bright had been taken from the living And hidden away in the twilit world. So it was that Hermod the brave rode to Helheim And asked for Baldur's return, but Hel would not Be moved unless every living thing wept for him. So it was that Frigga his mother went to every living thing And begged them to weep for her lost son, and all wept Save one old woman in a cave who said, "Let Hel keep her own." And we would think this story only a tragedy, Was it not know that at the end of days, When the Aesir would fall, if Baldur the bright Were present, he too would be sought out and slain. There was only one safe place in the Nine Worlds For the King of the Next World to wait for his throne, And that was Helheim. Think on that mystery as he sleeps in peace.
No comments:
Post a Comment
The power is in knowing that you are the center of the universe