another toward the Hrimthursen, the third toward the underworld; and
on both roots and branches creatures lived and played--eagle,
squirrel, stag, and snake; while by the murmuring Urdhar stream,
which rippled over one root, the Nones sat in judgment with the race
of Asa.

Not less significant was the conception of the end of the world, the
twilight of the gods (Goetterdaemmerung), according to which all the
wicked powers broke loose and fought against the gods; the sun and
moon were devoured by wolves, the stars fell and earth quaked, the
monster world-serpent Joermungande, in giant rage, reared himself out
of the water and came to land: Loki led the Hrimthursen and the
retinue of hell, and Surt, with his shining hair, rode away from the
flaming earth across Bifroest, the rainbow, which broke beneath him.

After the world conflagration a new and better earth arose, with
rejuvenated gods.[7]

German mediaeval poetry, as a whole, epic and lyric, was interwoven
with a hazy network of suggestive myth and legend; and moral
elements, which in mythology were hidden by the prominence of Nature,
stood out clear to view in the fate and character of the heroes. The
germ of many of our fairy tales is a bit of purest poetry of
Nature--a genuine Nature myth transferred to human affairs, which lay
nearer to the child-like popular mind, and were therefore more
readily understood by it.

So, for instance, from the Maiden of the Shield, Sigrdrifa, who was
pierced by Odin's sleep thorn, and who originally represented the
earth, frozen in winter, kissed awake by the sun-god, came Brunhild,
whose mail Siegfried's sword penetrated as the sun rays penetrate the
frost, and lastly the King's daughter, who pricked herself with the
fateful spindle, and sank into deep sleep. And as Sigrdrifa was
surrounded by walls of flame, so now we have a thorny hedge of wild
briar round the beautiful maiden (hence named Dornroeschen) when the
lucky prince comes to waken her with a kiss.[8]

Not all fairy tales have preserved the myth into Christian times in
so poetic and transparent a form as this. Its poetic germ arose from
hidden depths of myth and legend, and, like heathen superstitions in
the first centuries of Christianity, found its most fruitful soil
among the people. It has often been disguised beyond recognition by
legends, and by the worship of the Madonna and saints, but it has
never been destroyed, and it keeps its magic to the present day.