This is the awful city of the gods,

Founded on high to overlook the world;

And yonder gabled hall, whose golden roof
Returns the sinking sun’s red glare again
With twofold force, is Valhall. Yonder throne
That crowns th’eternal city’s highest peak
Is Odin’s throne, whence once the impious Frey
With ill-starred passion eyed the demon maid.
Fair is the city while the mellow light
Caresses every bulwark, while the cliffs,
Some, standing forth, with borrowed splendour shine,
Whilst others in the purple shade retire.
Are surely, too, it seems impregnable,
Perched high above all fields and monsters dire
Out of their reach—yet if my soul speak sooth,
Not long shall she be fair, not long have peace.
For soon the red birds cry at Ragnavik
Shall muster all the sons of night for war,
And the fierce brood from Surtur sprung shall come
And plant their grisly hosts about her walls.
And I shall shed no tear at Asgard’s fall:
Nay rather will I join the demon band,
And with my monster children at my back
Defy my erstwhile masters. For know this,
All mortals, that tho’ I enjoy the name,
The glory, and the hollow, hollow pomp,
The worship and the common reverence paid
To gods, yet I have never been of them.
For, in the dawn of all, ere time began,
Or haughty Asgard overlooked the world
Or men had come to being, and when still
Great Ymer’s corpse lay wallowing in the gulf,
I walked with Odin through the shapeless void.
Ah! We were brothers then, and then we pledged
Eternal friendship in those earlier times
—Fool that I was! But as we looked around,
And viewed the wild chaotic waste, the sun
The moon, the stars, all ignorant of their tasks,
Knowing not each his place, then Odin told 
How he would build a world, a home for man, 
And lay the Ocean round it like a cloke;
Confining to its utmost marge the vast
Uncomely giants and the monsters fell;
And over all that lived create the gods,
Companions to himself, and he proposed
To make the conjuring dwarfs and beasts and men,
Building for each its habitation meet.
But even in that early age I saw
The awful error and injustice dread. 
Then, knowing what I knew, addressed the god.
“Odin! And who art thou to make a soul
And force it into being? Who art thou
To bring forth men to suffer in the world
Without their own desire? Remember this,
In all the universe the harshest law,
No souls must ever die: it can but change
Its form and thro' the myriad years
Must still drag on for aye its weary course,
Enduring dreadful things for thy caprice.”
He answered darkly, with uncertain words
Hiding his thoughts. And when I would have called
The new made universe to sleep again,
Me he forbade, and with his magic power
Bound as his slave, bound me to work for him.
Thus, therefore have I lived thro’all these years,
Forced to obey the mighty criminal,
The father of injustice, he who makes
Sorrow and pain on earth, in heaven strife.
But not for ever shall his rule endure,
And even now in plans unknown to him
I set on foot destruction for the gods.
In Asgard, stone on stone shall not be left
And all the gods shall perish—haste that day.
Let all of them such pains as they have caused
Soon taste in full and learn what sorrow is!!
Curse them, the light-souled gods! Yea, curses on them!!
What form is this that glistens up aloft,
Athwart the gathering darkness? What that cry
Echoing wild across the riven clouds?
Lo! The bald ravens flutter down to earth:
’Tis Odin that I see. The cloud grey steed
Flies through the storm clouds, and upon his back
The grim creator of the world is borne.”

***
Fasholt: “Hail strangers! Who are ye that sit alone
Thus brooding in the cruel winter night?
Nay, answer not; for I perceive myself,
Ye are the high gods’ kinsfolk, and ye wait
Doubtless to watch the building of my wall.
Well, rest assured of this: it shall be done,
For I am bent on gaining that dear prize,
To cheer my lonely home in Jottumheim.”
***
Yonder, over the hill, the pale precursor of Billing
Paints with a ghostly line of white that corner of heaven:
Down in the silent woods, to the Westward, buried in shadow,
Tho’ it be still dark night, yet every bird hath awoken.
Borne on the chill night breeze, a restless whisper ariseth,
Where they are stirring below, chattering down in the thickets.
Now, with a ruddier tint, the roofs of adorable mansions
Gleam in the city above, high in impregnable Asgard.

Lo! He is coming at last, the sun, and wherever he touches

Mountain or wall with his rays, with his life giving breath he ignites it.
Now from the vale and the hill, from the throat of many a songster
Poureth the song of the dawn, the song that is old as the mountain.

Gone is the night of our fear: let us greet the day with rejoicing.
Praising, each from her heart, the Norns that have pitied our sorrow.
Who cometh hither in haste, so wild and so eager for tidings?
Surely over the brow of the mountain Loki appeareth.
***
Odin: “So be it then. The day
Of doom at last has fallen. Wo is me,
Never again as in the days of yore,
To clasp thy hands in friendship, or to walk
Together through the chaos, as of old
Ere yet the worlds were builded! Thou alone
Couldest be my friend, or understand. For these—
Gods, men, or beasts, what are they but my self,
Mirrored again in myriad forms? Alas,
How weary is my soul……
But let us come,
Oh, maidens, and repair to heaven’s halls.
THE END