Balder was the most godlike of all the gods, because he was the purest
and the best. Wherever he went his coming was like the coming of
sunshine, and all the beauty of summer was but the shining of his face.
When men's hearts were white like the light, and their lives clear as
the day, it was because Balder was looking down upon them with those
soft, clear eyes that were open windows to the soul of God. He had
always lived in such a glow of brightness that no darkness had ever
touched him; but one morning, after Idun and Brage had gone, Balder's
face was sad and troubled. He walked slowly from room to room in his
palace Breidablik, stainless as the sky when April showers have swept
across it because no impure thing had ever crossed the threshold, and
his eyes were heavy with sorrow. In the night terrible dreams had broken
his sleep, and made it a long torture. The air seemed to be full of
awful changes for him and for all the gods. He knew in his soul that the
shadow of the last great day was sweeping on; as he looked out and saw
the worlds lying in light and beauty, the fields yellow with waving
grain, the deep fiords flashing back the sunbeams from their clear
depths, the verdure clothing the loftiest mountains, and knew that over
all this darkness and desolation would come, with silence of reapers and
birds, with fading of leaf and flower, a great sorrow fell on his heart.
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