Balder

I heard a voice, that cried,"Balder the BeautifulIs dead, is dead!"And through the misty airPassed like the mournful cryOf sunward-sailing cranes.

Balder the Beautiful,God of the summer sun,Fairest of all the Gods!Light from his forehead beamed,Eunes were upon his tongue,As on the warrior's sword.

All things in earth and airBound were by magic spellNever to do him harm;Even the plants and stones,All save the mistletoe,The sacred mistletoe!

Hoder, the blind old God,Whose feet are shod with silence,Pierced through that gentle breastWith his sharp spear by fraudMade of the mistletoe,The accursed mistletoe I

—Longfellow.