Balder monologue — The Death of Balder

(alone) And must I die? Ah well, I merely forfeit A worthless breath, which is by Nanna hated. Ha! hated. How that thought that Nanna hates me Torments my breast! Death, only death, can drown it. It burns, it scorches me, like Nastroud's blazes. Come, tenfold death, come quickly, and extinguish The thought: destroy it, crush it, with this bosom. Thanks be to Thor, for he my eyelids lifted, Disclosing I had chance of rest--of dying! E'en Surtur, he whose hostile fingers planted The tree, the black tree, by the feeble starlight; Who nurs'd its infant root with blood fresh taken From slaughter'd babes, and drew a circle round it, And mutter'd magic words, and gave it power To shoot the bane of Nastroud in my bosom, Was not so cruel as thyself, O Nanna! What! cruel? No, by Odin! Pity drove him To rear up remedy benign and grateful For the dire wound with which thou torment'st me. Ah, maid! thou mak'st me look to death with longing And yet to die! and die from thee! and never-- Ha! my heart freezes! The mere word would kill me! But then, most likely thou wilt pity Balder, And with a hot, a precious tear bedew him!