the city; crushed hearts, heavy footsteps, no word amongst them, a
shadow upon all. The shadow was in Asgard, too--had walked through
Frigga's hall and seated itself upon the threshold of Gladsheim. Odin
had just come out to look at it, and Frigga stood by in mute despair
as the gods came up.

"Loki did it! Loki did it!" they said at last in confused, hoarse
whispers, and they looked from one to another,--upon Odin, upon
Frigga, upon the shadow which they saw before them, and which they
felt within. "Loki did it! Loki, Loki!" they went on saying; but it
was of no use to repeat the name of Loki over and over again when
there was another name they were too sad to utter but which filled all
their hearts--Baldur. Frigga said it first, and then they all went to
look at him lying down so peacefully on the grass--dead, dead.

"Carry him to the funeral pyre!" said Odin, at length; and four of the
gods stooped down and lifted their dead brother.

Noiselessly they carried the body tenderly to the seashore and laid
it upon the deck of the majestic ship, Ringhorn, which had been _his_.
Then they stood waiting to see who would come to the funeral. Odin
came, and on his shoulders sat his two ravens, whose croaking drew
clouds down over the Asa's face, for Thought and Memory sang the same
sad song that day. Frigga came,--Frey, Gerda, Freyja, Thor, Hoenir,
Bragi, and Idun. Heimdall came sweeping over the tops of the mountains
on Golden Mane, his swift, bright steed. Ægir the Old groaned from
under the deep, and sent his daughters up to mourn around the dead.
Frost-giants and mountain-giants came crowding round the rimy shores
of Jötunheim to look across the sea upon the funeral of an Asa. Nanna
came, Baldur's fair young wife; but when she saw the dead body of her