From words that follow flow nothing new,
Frailty is human, despite heavenly view?
A fable for futures, a saga now past,
On winds of wonder, a prophecy cast?
The coming and going of the Aesir great,
We heard tales of beginnings and of late.
Glories of Asgard in its flower and end,
Dark lands, low sun, and Midgard then.
Bestla, wed to Bors, gave birth to Odin,
Known to other tribes as Wotan or Woden.
With sight to see ends, to learn all things,
What marvelous powers if born to be king!
Just as Jupiter was of Cronos' kin,
Would see afar though not always within.
His brothers' rights he would not forswear;
Loki, the trickster, uninclined to share.
Frigga's son Baldur, most blest of them all,
Was slain by Hodur at cruel Loki's call.
Mistletoe cherished, was the eye dart of death;
Beloved Baldur's passing left Asgard bereft.
But the blindman's dart had been cast in sport,
At the feast that day before Odin's court.
Innocent Hodur in horror took his own life,
Not Tyrfing the Valiant could counter such strife.
Baldur's brother sought Loki, hammer in hand;
Thor burst through the heavens and savaged the land.
He then at the last brought the Trickster at bay,
Heimdall bound him, chained him to the last day.