The tempest of the latter days hath swept,
And they from sight have disappear'd, and sunk,
Shall a small remnant of the Gods repair:
Hoder and I shall join them from the grave.
There reassembling we shall see emerge.
From the bright Ocean at our feet an Earth
More fresh, more verdant than the last, with fruits
Self-springing, and a seed of man preserv'd,
Who then shall live in peace, as now in war.
But we in Heaven shall find again with joy
The ruin'd palaces of Odin, seats

Familiar, halls where we have supp'd of old;
Reënter them with wonder, never fill

Our eyes with gazing, and rebuild with tears.
And we shall tread once more the well-known plain
Of Ida, and among the grass shall find

The golden dice with which we play'd of yore;

And that will bring to mind the former life

And pastime of the Gods, the wise discourse
Of Odin, the delights of other days.

O Hermod, pray that thou mayst join us then!
Such for the future is my hope: meanwhile,

I rest the thrall of Hela, and endure

Death, and the gloom which round me even now
Thickens, and to its inner gulph recalls.
Farewell, for longer speech is not allow'd."

He spoke, and wav'd farewell, and gave his hand To Nanna; and she gave their brother blind

Her hand, in turn, for guidance; and The Three
Departed o'er the cloudy plain, and soon
Faded from sight into the interior gloom.
But Hermod stood beside his drooping horse,
Mute, gazing after them in tears and fain,
Fain had he follow'd their receding steps,

Though they to Death were bound, and he to Heaven,
Then; but a Power he could not break withheld.
And as a stork which idle boys have trapp'd,

And tied him in a yard, at autumn sees
Flocks of his kind pass flying o'er his head

To warmer lands, and coasts that keep the sun;
He strains to join their flight, and, from his shed,
Follows them with a long complaining cry·

So Hermod gaz'd, and yearn'd to join his kin.

At last he sigh'd, and set forth back to Heaven.

THE SICK KING IN BOKHARA.

HUSSEIN.

O MOST just Vizier, send away
The cloth-merchants, and let them be,

Them and their dues, this day the King

Is ill at ease, and calls for thee.

:

THE VIZIER.

O merchants, tarry yet a day
Here in Bokhara: but at noon
To-morrow, come, and ye shall pay
Each fortieth web of cloth to me,
As the law is, and go your way.

O Hussein, lead me to the King.
Thou teller of sweet tales, thine own,
Ferdousi's, and the others', lead.
How is it with my lord?

HUSSEIN.

Alone,

Ever since prayer-time, he doth wait,

O Vizier, without lying down,

In the great window of the gate,

Looking into the Registàn;

Where through the sellers' booths the slaves

Are this way bringing the dead man.

O Vizier, here is the King's door.

THE KING.

O Vizier, I may bury him?

THE VIZIER.

O King, thou know'st, I have been sick These many days, and heard no thing, (For Allah shut my ears and mind) Not even what thou dost, O King. Wherefore, that I may counsel thee, Let Hussein, if thou wilt, make haste To speak in order what hath chanc'd.

THE KING.

O Vizier, be it as thou say'st.

HUSSEIN.

Three days since, at the time of prayer,

A certain Moollah, with his robe

All rent, and dust upon his hair,

Watch'd my lord's coming forth, and push'd The golden mace-bearers aside,

And fell at the King's feet, and cried;

66

Justice, O King, and on myself! On this great sinner, who hath broke The law, and by the law must die! Vengeance, O King!"

But the King spoke:

"What fool is this, that hurts our ears With folly? or what drunken slave?

My guards, what, prick him with your spears! Prick me the fellow from the path!"

As the King said, so was it done,

And to the mosque my lord pass'd on.

But on the morrow, when the King Went forth again, the holy book Carried before him, as is right,

And through the square his path he took;

My man comes running, fleck'd with blood From yesterday, and falling down Cries out most earnestly; "O King, My lord, O King, do right, I pray !