Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/165

Of their dear country, and can plain descry
A fire of withered furze which boys have lit
Upon the cliffs, or smoke of burning weeds
Out of a tilled field inland: then the wind
Catches them, and drives out again to sea;
And they go long days tossing up and down
Over the gray sea-ridges, and the glimpse
Of port they had makes bitterer far their toil,—
So the gods' cross was bitterer for their joy.
Then, sad at heart, to Niord Hermod spake,—
"It is the accuser Lok, who flouts us all!
Ride back, and tell in heaven this heavy news;
I must again below, to Hela's realm."
He spoke, and Niord set forth back to heaven.
But northward Hermod rode, the way below,
The way he knew; and traversed Giall's stream,
And down to ocean groped, and crossed the ice,
And came beneath the wall, and found the grate
Still lifted: well was his return foreknown.
And once more Hermod saw around him spread
The joyless plains, and heard the streams of hell.
But as he entered, on the extremest bound
Of Niflheim, he saw one ghost come near,
Hovering, and stopping oft, as if afraid,—
Hoder, the unhappy, whom his own hand slew.
And Hermod looked, and knew his brother's ghost,
And called him by his name, and sternly said,—
"Hoder, ill-fated, blind in heart and eyes!
Why tarriest thou to plunge thee in the gulf
Of the deep inner gloom, but flittest here,
In twilight, on the lonely verge of hell,
Far from the other ghosts, and Hela's throne?
Doubtless thou fearest to meet Balder's voice,
Thy brother, whom through folly thou didst slay."