e Iceland deserts, it
is; with a heartiness, homeliness, even a tint of good humour and
robust mirth in the middle of these fearful things. The strong old
Norse heart did not go upon theatrical sublimities; they had not time
to tremble. I like much their robust simplicity; their veracity,
directness of conception. Thor 'draws down his brows' in a veritable
Norse rage; 'grasps his hammer till the _knuckles grow white_.'
Beautiful traits of pity too, an honest pity. Balder 'the white God'
dies; the beautiful, benignant; he is the Sungod. They try all Nature
for a remedy; but he is dead. Frigga, his mother, sends Hermoder to
seek or see him: nine days and nine nights he rides through gloomy
deep valleys, a labyrinth of gloom; arrives at the Bridge with its
gold roof: the Keeper says, "Yes, Balder did pass here; but the
Kingdom of the Dead is down yonder, far towards the North." Hermoder
rides on; leaps Hell-gate, Hela's gate: does see Balder, and speak
with him: Balder cannot be delivered. Inexorable! Hela will not, for
Odin or any God, give him up. The beautiful and gentle has to remain
there. His Wife had volunteered to go with him, to die with him. They
shall forever remain there. He sends his ring to Odin; Nanna his wife
sends her _thimble_ to Frigga, as a remembrance--Ah me!--

For indeed Valour is the fountain of Pity too;--of Truth, and all that
is great and good in man. The robust homely vigour of the Norse heart
attaches one much, in these delineations. Is it not a trait of right
honest strength, says Uhland, who has written a fine _Essay_ on Thor,
that the Old Norse heart finds its friend in the Thunder-god? That it
is not frightened away by his thunder; but finds that Summer-heat, the
beautiful noble summer, must and will have thunder withal! The Norse
heart _loves_ this Thor and his hammer-bolt; sports with him. Thor is
Summer-heat; the god of Peaceable Industry as well as Thunder. He is
the Peasant's friend; his true henchman and attendant is Thialfi,
_Manual Labour_. Thor himself engages in all manner of rough manual
work, scorns no business for its plebeianism; is ever and anon
travelling to the country of the Joetuns, harrying those chaotic
Frost-monsters, subduing them, at least straitening and damaging them.
There is a great broad humour in some of these things.

Thor, as we saw above, goes to Joetun-land, to seek Hymir's Caldron,
that the Gods may brew beer. Hymir the huge Giant enters, his grey
beard