And rolls beneath a rugged cap his tresses--
I wonder, wherefore.

BALDER. Ha! thou flash of lightning,
Which clear'st all up at once! I, wretched madman!
How senseless was I, and by pride how blinded
To sons of earth my eyes I never lower'd.
Ah! is my proud solicitude thus baffled?
But she can only love the gods, I'm certain!

LOKE. Excuse me, sir, I do not understand thee.
She loves not Odin half so much as Hother.

BALDER. Fly, slave--begone! for Udgaard, Loke's poison,
Is on thy tongue! That foe of gods has sent thee:
Thou art his messenger, thou art--thou art, thou traitor!
Dost dare to linger? But thou art in safety,
For, worm, thy weakness and my oath protect thee.
Ha! I myself will fly before my fury. [He goes.

LOKE (he looks contemptuously after BALDER, then raises himself to his
full height, discards at once his assumed figure, and appears as LOKE).
My weakness, mighty Balder? Do not scorn it!
To dust and ashes, boaster, it shall crush thee.
Not Loke's messenger, but Loke, stung thee.
Already bellows the young god with torment:
Hear, Odin! hear thy lov'd one, hear him howling!
Delay thee not! enjoy his voice and feel it!
Harmonious is it to the ears of Loke.
Quick, quick! thou ne'er again, perchance, will hear it.