On Balder's image now hangs the jewel.
My wrath burst forth at this act so cruel;
My sword was by me, I drew it forth,--
King Helge then was but little worth.
'Let be,' said Ing'borg, in accents broken,
'My brother might surely have spared this token;
How much one suffers ere death sets free,--
The Allfather judgeth 'twixt him and me.'"

"The Allfather judgeth," said Fridthjof slowly,
"I too would give him my judgment lowly.
Is't not now mid-summer, Balder's feast?
And in the temple the crowned priest,--
The king, who sold the maiden tender?
Ah! yes, my judgment I fain would render."




XIII.


BALDER'S FUNERAL PILE.

Midnight's sun on the mountain lay,
Blood-red was its gleaming
It was not night nor was it day,
But just between them seeming.

Balder's bale-fire, symbol bright,