Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/148

But yester-morn, five troops of dead passed by,
Bound on their way below to Hela's realm,
Nor shook the bridge so much as thou alone.
And thou hast flesh and color on thy cheeks,
Like men who live, and draw the vital air;
Nor look'st thou pale and wan, like men deceased,
Souls bound below, my daily passers here."
And the fleet-footed Hermod answered her,—
"O damsel, Hermod am I called, the son
Of Odin; and my high-roofed house is built
Far hence, in Asgard, in the city of gods;
And Sleipner, Odin's horse, is this I ride.
And I come, sent this road on Balder's track:
Say, then, if he hath crossed thy bridge or no?"
He spake; the warder of the bridge replied,—
"O Hermod, rarely do the feet of gods
Or of the horses of the gods resound
Upon my bridge; and, when they cross, I know.
Balder hath gone this way, and ta'en the road
Below there, to the north, toward Hela's realm.
From here the cold white mist can be discerned,
Not lit with sun, but through the darksome air
By the dim vapor-blotted light of stars,
Which hangs over the ice where lies the road.
For in that ice are lost those northern streams,
Freezing and ridging in their onward flow,
Which from the fountain of Vergelmer run,
The spring that bubbles up by Hela's throne.
There are the joyless seats, the haunt of ghosts,
Hela's pale swarms; and there was Balder bound.
Ride on! pass free! but he by this is there."
She spake, and stepped aside, and left him room.
And Hermod greeted her, and galloped by

Across the bridge; then she took post again.