FREYJA

Thou lovest me. Why, then, art thou not glad?

FENRIS

Chafe, choke me, chains; chaffeth the churl at me!

FREYJA

Take heart; we come to bring thee peace. O Baldur!

[Clinging to Baldur, she gazes with fascinated awe upon

Fenris, who, pacing ever in and out, amid his involving

Pack, with the swift, incessant shuttle movement of

a caged wild thing, upturns his shifting eyes in

yearning.]

FENRIS

Free me, Freyja; frore am I, frost-bit,

Go we together into greenwood glad.

Mirk under moon-mist mad will meet thee,

Hunt thee from hiding, thy heart-beats hear!

Press thee, panting!

THE PACK

Ulfr! Ulfr!

FENRIS

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