ather of Victory, the
High One, the Swift One, the Wanderer,
Long-Beard, Burning-Eye, Slouchy-Hat. Odin is a
one-eyed god, because the sky has but one sun.
His raiment is sometimes blue and sometimes
gray, as the weather is fair or cloudy."

ODIN'S SEARCH FOR WISDOM

HAMILTON WRIGHT MABIE

The wonderful ash-tree, Ygdrasil, made a far-spreading shade against the
fierce heat of the sun in summer, and a stronghold against the piercing
winds of winter. No man could remember when it had been young. Little
children played under its branches, grew to be strong men and women,
lived to be old and weary and feeble, and died; and yet the ash-tree
gave no signs of decay. Forever preserving its freshness and beauty, it
was to live as long as there were men to look upon it, animals to feed
under it, birds to flutter among its branches.

This mighty ash-tree touched and bound all the worlds together in its
wonderful circle of life. One root it sent deep down into the sightless
depths of Hel, where the dead lived; another it fastened firmly in
Joetunheim, the dreary home of the giants; and with the third it grasped
Midgard, the dwelling place of men. Serpents and all kinds of worms
gnawed continually at its roots, but were never able to destroy them.
Its branches spread out over the whole earth, and the topmost boughs
swayed in the clear air of Asgard itself, rustling against the Valhal,
the home of the heroes who had done great deeds or died manfully in
battle. At the foot of the tree sat the three Norns, wonderful spinners
of fate, who weave the thread of every man's life, making it what they
will; and a strange weaving it often was, cut off when the pattern was
just beginning to show itself. And every day these Norns sprinkled the
tree with the water of life from the Urdar fountain, and so kept it
forever green. In the topmost branches sat an eagle singing a strange
song about the birth of the world, its decay and death. Under its
branches browsed all manner of animals; among its leaves every kind of
bird made its nest; by day the rainbow hung under it; at night the pale
northern light flashed over it, and as the winds swept through its
rustling branches, the multitudinous murmur of the leaves told strange
stories of the past and of the future.

The giants were older than the gods, and knew so much more of the past
that the gods had to go to them for wisdom. After a time, however, the