{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_49696/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_49696","id":"gutenberg_49696","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/49696","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Poetry","Danish poetry -- Translations into English"],"text":"THE GODS\n\n OF THE NORTH.\n\n Paris.--Printed by J. Smith, 14 ter, rue Fontaine-au-Roi.\n\n Dedicated by permission to H. M. the\n King of Denmark.\n\n THE\n GODS OF THE NORTH,\n\n AN EPIC POEM, BY\n\n ADAM \u0152HLENSCHL\u00c6GER,\n\n TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL DANISH INTO ENGLISH VERSE\n\n BY\n\n WILLIAM EDWARD FRYE,\n\n FORMERLY MAJOR OF INFANTRY IN THE BRITISH SERVICE, AND MEMBER\n OF THE ACADEMY DEGLI ARCADI, IN ROME.\n\n LONDON,\n WILLIAM PICKERING,\n\n PARIS,\n STASSIN AND XAVIER.\n\n 1845.\n\n\n\n\nTo his Majesty Christian VIII, King of Denmark, &c. &c. &c.\n\n\n_SIRE_,\n\n_The countenance of an enlightened Prince has ever been eagerly sought\nafter by the most distinguished authors. It may then well be permitted\nto an humble admirer and translator of a poem of Denmark\u2019s greatest\nScald to desire to place himself and his work under the protection of\na King of Denmark, who yields to no Sovereign of any age or country\nin his love of science, and in his zealous furtherance of all that\ncan adorn or benefit the great family of mankind. In soliciting the\npermission of dedicating this work to your Majesty, I had nothing to\nplead in favour of my request, but my ardent zeal for Scandinavian\nliterature; I knew, however, that such zeal would be my greatest\nrecommendation in the eyes of a patriotic Monarch, and the gracious\npermission accorded to me by Your Majesty I consider as my highest\nreward._\n\n _I have the honour to be,\n Sire,_\n\n _Your Majesty\u2019s most grateful and\n devoted humble servant_,\n\n W. E. FRYE.\n\n_Paris, January, 1845._\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\nBY THE TRANSLATOR.\n\n\nThe argument of the poem by the author is the sole document that\naccompanies the original work; there are neither notes nor preface to\nthe edition from which I have made my translation, and which is the\nonly one I have ever seen. To the people of education in Scandinavia,\nwho are well versed in the ancient mythology of their country, notes\nare perhaps not strictly necessary, inasmuch as this poem is based\nupon the Edda, which is universally read; but since, to the generality\nof English readers, the Edda and the Scandinavian mythology are but\nlittle, if at all familiar, I feel myself bound to furnish them with\nall the information on the subject that I have been able to collect\nfrom various sources; by which they will be enabled to read this poem\nwith additional pleasure and profit.\n\nThe Scandinavian mythology, like that of all other nations, is founded\non the personification and consequent adoration of the powers of\nnature, which may be expressed by the word \u201cDemonism,\u201d used in its\nGreek sense; to this may be added the deification of national heroes.\n\nThe first source of Demonism (I here borrow the words of Wieland in his\nadmirable work called Agathodemon) lies in the ignorance of mankind, in\nthe early stages of the world, of the real causes or laws by which the\npowers of nature act, on the one side; and on the other, in the innate\npropensity of man to reflect the image of the things which he can and\ndoes see, on the things which lie beyond the contact of his senses.\n\nThis induces us to personify the causes of the effects that we behold\nin nature; we assign to them our manner of thinking and acting, and\nwe endow them with a form like our own, because we can conceive no\nhigher model. Thus we give a supposed existence to an infinite number\nof divinities in heaven and earth, whose operations are seen and felt,\nthough the agents themselves are unseen or unknown. Thus the earth,\nthe sun, the moon, the stars, the sea, rivers, woods, mountains, etc.,\nall have their peculiar divinities; and as these were considered as\nthe cause of light or of darkness, of warmth or of cold, of fertility\nor of barrenness, of the eternal vicissitudes of the year, month or\nday, as well as of the destructive effects of storms, tempests, floods,\nvolcanoes, earthquakes, etc., to the idea of their existence became\nconjoined the belief of their superhuman power. They were therefore\nrecognised as the arbitrary rulers of nature, who had their separate\nprincipalities, circles, and districts in her empire; and as we ascribe\nto them our own passions, caprices, and necessities, we naturally\nendeavour to captivate their good will, or avert their anger, by\nprayers, sacrifices, presents, or penances.\n\nOn the principle of Demonism, therefore, did the earliest legislators\nestablish the basis of their fabric of social order, civilization\nand religion; and it was by profiting by this innate inclination of\nmankind, that priests and mystagogues succeeded in consolidating their\npower and influence, which became necessarily augmented and enhanced by\nthe right they arrogated to themselves of canonizing or deifying those\nheroes or princes, whom they were disposed to hold up as worthy of\nadoration, or as examples to be followed by the people.\n\nHistory thus became blended with allegory and mythology; and this\ncircumstance, combined with the total want of chronology, which seems\nto pervade the early records of all nations, renders it extremely\ndifficult to give to any mythology a consistent form, proportionate\nin all its parts, and presenting an invariable doctrine or system of\naction.\n\nProceeding thus from a similar source, the Scandinavian polytheism has\na remarkable coincidence with those of Greece, Italy, Egypt and India;\nand from its classification of the superior powers into good and evil\ngenii, it bears a still more striking resemblance to the religion\nof the ancient Persians, the doctrine of the Magi, which admits the\nco-existence of, and the eternal struggle between, the two opposing\nprinciples of Good and Evil, under the types of Ormuzd and Ahrimanes.\n\nIt seems generally admitted that the Gothic mythology was introduced\ninto the north-west of Europe by the Asar or Asiatic Goths, when, under\nthe guidance of the historical Odin, they emigrated from the borders of\nthe Black Sea and penetrated into Scandinavia, where they founded their\nempire; and had they at that time been acquainted with navigation, they\nwould most assuredly not have stopped there, but would have invaded the\nBritish Islands, which would have afforded an easy conquest, and a more\nalluring resting-place, from the superior fertility of their soil, and\nfar greater mildness of the climate.\n\nThe word _Asa_ may be derived from Asia, or both may be derived from\nthe word As or Az,[1] which in the Zend or ancient Persian dialect\n(the link between the Gothic and the Sanscrit) signifies \u201cpowerful,\nelevated;\u201d and may have been applied to that part of Asia bordering on\nEurope by its own inhabitants, as a country, _par excellence_, occupied\nby a super-excellent people; on the same principle that the word\n\u201cSvensk\u201d (Swedish) is derived from \u201cSven\u201d (man), and denotes a man,\n_par excellence_; and the country itself called \u201c_Sverige_\u201d (empire of\nmen, Sweden). The word Goth also is a synonyme for what is good, great,\nand illustrious; for in all the Teutonic and Scandinavian languages,\nthe three words _Goth_, _good_, and _God_ spring from the same root;\nsuch has ever been the self-love and vanity of nations. The term\n_Jotun_ or _Jette_ may on the other hand have been the name of some\nrival nation, professing a different worship, and engaged in a long and\nobstinate warfare with the Asar or Goths, either in Asia or in Europe;\nand by the suggestion of national hatred, the Asar may have given the\nname of their enemies (the Jetter) to the destructive powers of nature,\npersonified by the malevolent genii or giants: hence in the Icelandic,\nDanish and Swedish languages, the term Jotun, Jette, or J\u00e4tte, denotes\na giant and implies the idea formed of this fabulous race by all\nnations.\n\nThe historical Odin was deified after his death, as were his wives,\nhis sons, and immediate relations, and either their names may have\nbeen given to the benign influences of nature, or they (Odin and his\nrelations) may have adopted the names of the gods of their Asiatic\nancestors, in order to impose on their new subjects. The names of\nregions, places and abodes were transferred from Asia to Scandinavia;\nand the said names were, either previously or subsequently to the first\ngrand immigration of the Goths into the north-west of Europe, applied\nby them to the supposed residences of the gods in heaven. Among the\nEgyptians and Greeks, the names of the Zodiac and of the constellations\nafford a similar and satisfactory proof of the continual re-action of\nearth on heaven, and of heaven on earth.[2]\n\nThe popular belief of the continual intercourse between heaven and\nearth, between gods, demi-gods, and heroes in the early ages of\nmankind, fostered and encouraged by the many ingenious allegories\nframed by the priests, the sole astronomers of the time, out of\nthe movements and influences of the celestial bodies, render\neither hypothesis probable, and may serve to account for the many\nincongruities that prevail in the Scandinavian, as well as in other\nmythologies; it is sufficient for the comprehension of this poem, to\nlay down the principle, that the Asar (gods) represent the _creating_,\n_embellishing_, and _conservative_ powers of nature; and the Jetter\n(giants), on the contrary, represent the _defacing_, _corrupting_,\n_destructive_ powers of the same. The giants existed before the gods,\ninasmuch as _chaos_, _darkness_ and _confusion_ preceded _creation_,\n_light_ and _order_.\n\nWith respect to the superhuman size attributed by most nations to evil\nspirits, it may be observed, that in darkness the terrors of mankind\nincrease, and the shades of night magnify considerably to the visual\norb every object in nature: hence to the Jetter, or evil genii, who\nwere supposed to wander about at night doing mischief, was lent by\nthe imagination a form gigantic in stature, and features frightful to\nbehold. Day appears! the giants vanish! or they assume the ordinary\nappearance of towers, steeples, and windmills; or they become changed\nto wolves and bears; or they dwindle to the usual human size: but are\nstill dangerous by their knowledge of magic, their power of effecting\ntransformations, and by the artifices and illusions whereby they seek\nto mislead mankind and seduce them to the perpetration of evil. That\nthe Jotun or Jetter, who were probably the aboriginal inhabitants of\nScandinavia at the time of the Gothic invasion, should appear to the\nAsar to be giants in size, and as having the heads of bears, wolves,\nelks, or wild bulls, conjoined to human bodies, may be very easily\nand naturally accounted for. The Jotun race were in a very low state\nof civilization compared with the Asar, and were, probably, totally\nunacquainted with the art of tanning or weaving. They accordingly\nclothed themselves with the skins of beasts; and in order to increase\nthe terrific in their exterior (an object of great importance among\nsavage nations), they preserved the head, tail, and claws of the\nanimals, in whose spoils they arrayed themselves; and wore its head,\nhorns and all, as a head-dress above their own, allowing the tail to\ndangle behind them, while its paws crossed their breast. This must\nnaturally have given to them the appearance, not only of a stature\nfar above the human size, but that also of partaking of the shape and\nnature both of man and beast, which idea was not a little supported\nby the ferocity of their manners; and such was probably the origin of\ngiantism in every country.[3]\n\nI shall now proceed to give an outline of the cosmogony and principal\nevents of the Scandinavian mythology, as far as they can be collected\nfrom the only authentic source extant, viz. the fragments of the\npoetry contained in the elder or poetic Edda, discovered and compiled\nby the celebrated S\u00e6mund Sigfusson, a native of Iceland, who was born\nin the year 1054, and died in 1133. He was a Christian priest of\nextensive talents and acquirements, who made a journey to Rome, a rare\noccurrence, at that time, among the clergy of the north. He it was\nwho discovered these fragments, and at once perceived their value. He\ncompiled them, and gave them to light, with a Latin translation of his\nown, under the name of the Edda, which, in the Icelandic or ancient\nScandinavian tongue, means \u201cAncestress.\u201d\n\nIt was fortunate that this discovery was made by a man so enlightened\nand liberal as S\u00e6munder, who was free from all the prejudices which\nprevailed among the clergy of his time. Any poem or writing connected\nwith the ancient polytheistic religion of the country, was at that time\nconsidered as the work of devils, and severely proscribed. The poems of\nthe Edda, therefore, had they fallen into the hands of an ignorant or\nbigotted priest, would have been burnt, and lost to posterity for ever.\nThe fragments thus collected together under the name of the Edda are,\nindeed, but the _disjectorum membra poetarum_; but they form the only\ndocument extant, which throws on the Scandinavian mythology a light at\nall to be depended on.[4]\n\nOf importance far inferior, but still of considerable relative\nutility, is the younger or prosaic Edda, composed, rather than\ncompiled, by Snorro Storleson, a learned Icelander, who was born in\n1178, and was killed at Reykiaholt in 1241. This work, written in\nprose, may be considered as a commentary on the elder or poetic Edda,\nwith several additions and legends, collected probably from oral\ntradition. It is written in a homely, story-telling style, and but for\nthe elder Edda, would stand a chance of being considered as unimportant\nas a black letter romaunt or fairy tale. In the preface to it, there\nis a strange jumble of history, sacred and profane; a very fantastic\ngeography; and an attempt to derive the genealogy of all the nations in\nEurope from the Trojans: there reigns, moreover, throughout the whole\nwork, a total want of chronology.[5]\n\nThe most interesting part of the work, from the light it throws on the\nelder Edda, is the Gyllfaginning, or Conversations of King Gyllfe,\nwho reigned over a part of Sweden at the time of Odin\u2019s invasion. A\ncurious appendage to the work is the \u201cSkalde spr\u00e2ket\u201d (the language\nof the Skalds), which forms a sort of _Gradus ad Parnassum_ of the\nIcelandic poetry, in which the synonymes and epithets of all persons\nand things occurring in the works of the Skalds, are given with extreme\naccuracy. But, as I have before stated, the whole importance of Snorro\nSturleson\u2019s work is derived from the elder or poetic Edda. In the\nGyllfaginning occurs the following remarkable passage:\n\n\u201cKing Gyllfe was a prudent and very wise man; it caused him much\nsurprize that the Asar possessed so much knowledge, that every thing\nyielded to their will; and he reflected whether this could proceed from\ntheir own power, or whether they derived it from the Gods, to whom they\nsacrificed.\u201d\n\nIt is from the Gyllfaginning that I borrow the following account of the\ncosmogony, according to the Scandinavian mythology.\n\nIn the beginning when nothing existed, when there was neither earth,\nnor sea, nor heaven, all was Ginnungagap,[6] a vast unfathomable abyss.\nTowards the north of this abyss lay a world of cold and darkness\ncalled Niffelheim, in the midst of which was the source or fountain\nHvergelmer. On the south of Ginnungagap lay Muspelheim, a world of\nheat, light and fire. From the source Hvergelmer flowed twelve rivers,\ncalled collectively Elivagor. These flowed into Ginnungagap, so far\nfrom their source, that the poisonous matter they contained congealed\nat length, and formed a mass of ice. On the other hand, the sparks\nand flames proceeding from Muspelheim, came into contact with this\ncongealed mass; and the heat, operating on the cold, produced the giant\nYmer, the grand progenitor of the race of giants. He was wicked, and\nso were all his race, who were called Hrimthusser. Shortly after the\napparition of Ymer, arose the cow Audumbla; she nourished herself by\nlicking the frost from the pillars of salt in Ginnungagap; and this\noperation produced, on the first day, a man\u2019s hair; on the second, his\nwhole head; on the third the entire man; this man was called Bure.\nBure had a son called Bor; and this Bor, by an union with a beautiful\ngiantess of the name of Betsla, became the father of three sons, Odin,\nVil and Ve, the progenitors of the Asar race. These three brothers slew\nthe giant Ymer, from whose body flowed so much blood, that all the\ngiants were drowned therein, except Bergelmer and his wife, who escaped\nfrom the deluge on the top of a mountain. Bergelmer and his wife had a\nnumerous progeny, and by them were perpetuated the giant race. Odin,\nVil and Ve, having slain Ymer, proceeded to the creation of the world,\nas it now exists. From the limbs of Ymer, they created the earth, the\nmountains from his bones, the sea from his blood, the heavens from his\nscull; and from his eye-brows they built Midgard, name of the abode\nto be inhabited by the human race, and so called, because it lies in\nthe middle region. They then from two trees, which they found on the\nsea-shore, created a man, called Askur, and a woman called Embla; and\nplaced them to dwell in Midgard. From this pair descend all mankind.\n\nOn the confines of Midgard towards the north, and separated from it\nby mountains of ice and snow, and dreary wastes eternally agitated by\nstorms, lies Utgard, the domain of the giants, whose sovereign is Lok,\ncommonly called Utgard-Lok, to distinguish him from an Asa bearing the\nsame name. Utgard became thus the region assigned to the giant race, as\nMidgard was to mankind. The Asar chose for themselves a region supposed\nto be in the heavens above the earth, and this region they called\nAsagard. There they built for themselves various palaces and tenements;\nand dwelling therein, pass their time in joy and felicity, in banquets,\ntournaments, festivals, and amusements of all sorts; or they occupy\nthemselves in conferring happiness upon, and imagining inventions\nuseful and beneficial to the human race. They occasionally descend from\nAsagard to Midgard, by passing over the bridge Bifrost, when they deem\nit necessary to intervene immediately in the affairs of mankind, for\nthe purpose of relieving the oppressed, or of enforcing the practice of\njustice and benevolence.\n\nThe giants, on the contrary, when they sally forth from their domain in\nUtgard, do so for the purpose of creating storms and earthquakes, and\ncausing, either openly or insidiously, as much mischief as possible to\ngods and men.\n\nI shall not in this preface enumerate the names of the different gods\nand goddesses, nor of their abodes and attributes; neither shall I\nenumerate the names of the giants, nor those of the Dvergar, of the\nAlfer, or of the Vaner. All these names will be found in a catalogue,\nalphabetically arranged, which I shall annex to this work. Neither\nshall I take notice, in this preface, of the various episodes of the\nmythology, which are introduced in the body of the poem, and explain\nthemselves; but I shall proceed to give an account of the death of\nBalder,[7] as it is related in the younger or prosaic Edda.\n\nFrigga is the wife of Odin and queen of the gods. Their son Balder, the\nmost benevolent among the Asar, called by the Skalds \u201cthe fillet that\nbinds together the garland of the gods,\u201d was troubled with unpleasant\ndreams, portending some dreadful calamity to himself, and pregnant\nwith mischief and ruin to the universe. He related his dreams to the\nAsar, and a council was held by them, in order to devise the means\nof averting the threatened mischief. His mother Frigga exacted an\noath from all the elements, from iron and all kinds of metals, from\nstones, trees, beasts, birds, fishes and reptiles, that they would\ndo no injury to Balder. When this oath was made, it was agreed upon\nby the Asar, that they should throw their lances at Balder, or cut at\nhim with their swords, by way of amusement and experiment. Of course,\nenchanted as he was, he remained unscathed from all those assaults.\nThis rejoiced the gods exceedingly; but there was one among the Asar,\ncalled Lok, originally of giant race, but admitted among the gods; a\nbeing of a treacherous and vacillating disposition, addicted to mockery\nand calumny, and inheriting from his ancestors, the giants, a strong\ninnate disposition to mischief. It grieved him sore, that no injury\ncould be done to Balder. He repaired to Fensal, the abode of Frigga, in\nthe shape of a female, and related to her what had past between Balder\nand the other Asar at the tournament. Frigga replied: No weapon can do\ninjury to Balder, for I have exacted an oath in his favour from all\nthings likely to do him mischief. Lok answered: Have you really exacted\nan oath from all things? Frigga replied: Eastward to Valhalla grows a\nlittle plant, called the mistletoe; from it I exacted no oath, for it\nappeared to me so insignificant, as to be incapable of doing harm to\nanybody. Lok went away, dug up the plant, and made thereof a spear; he\nthen went in search of H\u00e6dur, twin-brother of Balder, and born blind.\nHaving found him, he asked him, why he did not join in the general\namusement, and cast a weapon at Balder. H\u00e6dur replied: I am blind, and\nhave no weapon. Lok answered: You should not be the only one among the\nAsar, who does not do honour to Balder; here! take this lance (giving\nto him the spear made of the mistletoe), and run at him with it! H\u00e6dur\ndid so, and Balder fell down dead. The gods were inconsolable at his\nloss, and sent Hermod, the messenger of Odin, to Hela, the queen of\ndeath and of the shades below, into whose hands Balder had fallen, in\norder to supplicate his release. Hermod mounted the steed of Odin,\ncalled Sleipner, and repaired to the abode of Hela, in order to demand\nthe restitution of Balder. Hela at first refused to release him on\nany condition whatsoever; but at length relenting, she said: Now is\nthe time to prove, if Balder be really so beloved by all creatures,\nas ye pretend. If, therefore, every thing in nature will shed tears\nfor Balder\u2019s death, and demand his release, I will grant it. Hermod\nreturned to Asagard, satisfied with the success of his mission. The\nAsar sent messengers all over the earth, calling upon all creatures to\nweep for Balder\u2019s death; and all creatures did grieve and join in the\nprayer for his release from the shades of Helheim, except an old witch,\nby name Thock, who was sitting by the entrance of a cavern. When called\nupon to join in the general lamentation, she answered spitefully:\n\n With dry tears\n Doth Thock grieve\n For the death of Balder;\n He never did good to me\n Either in life or death;\n May Hela retain her prey!\n\nand in consequence of this solitary refusal, Hela did retain her\nprey, and will do so until the end of time. It was now discovered\nthat the witch Thock was no other than Lok himself in disguise;\nand the gods, enraged at his treachery, inflicted on him a summary\nvengeance. Changing his two sons into wolves, who devour each other,\nthe gods make a chain from their intestines, and bind therewith Lok\nto a sharp rock in a subterranean abode. They then place over him two\nenormous serpents, who drop their venom on his limbs, and he is to\nremain exposed to this continual torture until the end of the world.\nBut though Lok be thus punished, the calamity springing from Balder\u2019s\ndeath cannot be averted; from it dates the entrance of crime and misery\ninto the world, and a state of unceasing warfare in the heavens, on\nthe earth, and under the earth; which state is to last until the great\nday of Ragnarok, called the twilight of the gods. On that awful day,\nwhich is to be preceded by a severe uninterrupted winter of three\nyears\u2019 duration, a great battle is to be fought between the gods and\ngiants, in which dreadful conflict giants, gods, mankind, the whole\nuniverse, in fine, are to perish in a shower of fire and blood. After\nthe destruction of the world, a new creation is to take place under\nthe auspices of Vidar, the god of silence and wisdom, the sole being\nwho survives the general conflagration. It is he who is to resuscitate\nthe gods and the human race, and to lead them to dwell in the palace\nof Gimle on the plains of Ida, an abode of eternal joy and felicity,\nwhere virtue and love are to reign triumphant, and vice and hatred be\nextinguished for ever. As the details of the destruction of the world\nand of its reconstruction are given in the last canto of this poem, I\nneed not dwell on them here.[8] Besides the alphabetical catalogue,\nexplicatory of all that remains to be known, concerning the events and\npersonages which figure in this poem, I have annexed to each canto\nnotes, which give the hidden sense and meaning of most of the mythes\nand allegories; on which subjects I have borrowed all my information\nfrom the celebrated Danish antiquarian Finn Magnussen, now living in\nCopenhagen, which information is to be found in his two admirable\nworks, the one called \u201cThe elder Edda, translated with copious notes\nand illustrations;\u201d the other, \u201cThe Edda doctrine explained and\nelucidated.\u201d These two works afford a complete key to the mythes and\nallegories of the Scandinavian mythology, intricate as it is; and armed\nthus with his (Finn Magnussen\u2019s) magic wand, I too may fearlessly\nundertake the office of Hierophant.\n\nWith respect to this poem and its author,[9] it has been observed by\na modern Danish writer of some eminence: \u201cThere have been various\npoetical works in all the northern languages based on the legends of\nthe Edda; but no author has woven thereof a whole, nor has so happily\nand poetically embodied its genius, mythes and transformations, as\n\u0152hlenschl\u00e4ger in his celebrated poem, The Gods of the North.\u201d\n\nTo me it seems that he has combined in an eminent degree the peculiar\nexcellences of three distinguished poets, of three distinct ages, viz.\nthose of Hesiod in his Theogony, of Ovid in his Metamorphoses, and of\nAriosto in his Orlando Furioso. \u0152hlenschl\u00e4ger seems to possess all the\ninexhaustible genius, fertility of invention, playfulness, and sly, but\nnot ill-natured, satire of the bard of Ferrara:\n\n \u201cIl grande che cant\u00f2 le armi e gli amori.\u201d\n\nOf my translation, it befits not me to speak. Like my archetype, I\nhave adopted various metres for the different cantos, not always the\nsame as those of the original; for I wished to take a freer scope,\nand not to fetter myself by an invariable adoption of the self-same\nmetres, which would have been attended with great difficulty, inasmuch\nas some of them are unsuitable to the genius of the English language,\nwhich is far less laconic than the Danish. I have likewise, in a few\ninstances, amplified my archetype, for I was determined that nothing of\nhis should be lost; yet I trust, that even in those parts where I have\nmost amplified, I have never departed from the meaning and spirit of\nthe author. I can therefore never admit, that my translation, though\nunshackled, should be termed \u201ca free one,\u201d or _Bearbeitung_, as the\nGermans express it.\n\nWith respect to my qualifications as a translator, they are as follows:\nfrom the early age of fifteen I have been engaged in the acquisition\nof the language and literature of Germany; for the last twelve years,\nI have closely studied the Danish and Swedish languages, and I have\nlately attempted the Icelandic.\n\nAbout eight years ago, I made a summer tour in Denmark and Sweden,\nand when at Copenhagen, I became acquainted with Finn Magnussen, the\ncelebrated antiquarian, and with the poet \u0152hlenschl\u00e4ger himself,\nmost of whose works I had previously read with unbounded admiration\nand delight, and among which, this poem, \u201cThe Gods of the North,\u201d\nhad excited my peculiar attention. Thus prepared, I determined on\nundertaking a metrical version of the whole of this work, one canto of\nwhich (the 12th) I had previously translated, and published anonymously\nin a Parisian weekly review, in 1835.\n\nIn my translation, I was further encouraged by the idea that I was\nthereby contributing to spread among my countrymen a taste for the\nmythology and general literature of Scandinavia, which is capable of\nfurnishing to the painter or the sculptor a series of subjects not less\ninteresting than those derived from the classic sources of Greece or\nRome. I recommend, also, to the attention of scholars, the study of the\nDanish and Swedish languages, as the key to an historical literature\nextremely rich and diversified, interesting to the readers of every\nEuropean nation, but more particularly so to the English reader, who\nis desirous of forming an intimate acquaintance with the _arcana_\nof his own language, and with his own early history, laws, customs,\nmanners, and legends. The history of Denmark, Norway, and Sweden is as\ncaptivating as a romance, and it presents an astonishing variety of\nthe most singular events, which would afford admirable subjects for\nepic and dramatic poetry, as well as for the historical novel. The\nEnglish reader will perceive, likewise, that the Scandinavian mythology\nis the fountain head of many of the most popular tales, legends, and\nballads of his own country. It will interest him to mark the effect\nof the introduction of the Christian religion upon the Scandinavian\npolytheism, as therein he may trace the origin of many of our own\nsuperstitions and fabulous traditions. At the appearance of the Cross,\nthe proud edifice of Valhalla, not seldom, alas! polluted with human\ngore, crumbles into dust. Asagard, with all its palaces and gardens,\ndissolves in air! The mighty Odin himself, the wise, the just, the\nbeneficent Odin, degenerates into a common-place demon, liable to\nbe exorcised by a parish priest. The Nornor, or Fates, the solemn,\nmajestic, and impartial Nornor, though stern, yet beautiful to behold,\nbecome changed to disgusting and wrinkled witches, and figure as such\nin the weird sisters of Macbeth. The awful giants of Utgard sink into\nthe ogres of a fairy tale; Thor, deprived of his belt, his hammer,\nhis gauntlets, and his car, dwindles into Jack the Giant-killer,[10]\nthe familiar hero of our days of childhood; and from the _graa gaas_\n(grey goose), a name given to a collection of ancient legends in the\nIcelandic tongue, from the circumstance of great longevity being\nattributed to that bird, may be traced our old nursery acquaintance\nand monitress, Mother Goose.[11] I have only to add, that I began\nthe translation of this poem towards the end of the year 1836, and\nfinished it in the autumn of 1837; but I was compelled by circumstances\nto delay the publication of it until the present year.\n\nW. E. FRYE.\n\n_Paris, January 1845._\n\n[1] This may be the origin of the term _Ace_ in cards.\n\n[2] In the prosaic Edda is this remarkable passage, wherein the name\nof Odin is given to Alfader, the supreme god. \u201cWe suppose that he\n(Odin, the god) must have been so called, for so is called the man, the\ngreatest and the most glorious that we know, and well may mankind let\nhim bear that name.\u201d\n\n[3] The figure given to the devil by the imagination of the northern\nnations is a confirmation of this hypothesis; whereas the Orientals\ngive to him a more seducing form; but in modern times the least\ncultivated minds reject the northern type, as G\u00f6the says in his drama\nof Faust:\n\n Das nordische Phantom ist jetzt nicht mehr zu schauen,\n Wo siehst du jetzt die H\u00f6rner, Schweif und Klauen?\n\n(_Faust von G\u00f6the._)\n\n[4] The Eddas are written in the Icelandic tongue, then called the\n_Suio-Gothic_, and sometimes the _Norrana tunga_ (or Norse tongue),\nwhich was formerly the language of all Scandinavia. After the\nintroduction of Christianity, from the connection with the Empire and\nthe Church, this tongue became gradually deteriorated by a mixture with\nthe German; and it is by this mixture with the German that the modern\nSwedish and Danish languages are formed. Iceland having been colonised\nby some Norwegian families previous to the corruption of the language,\nhas thus, from its insular position, preserved the old language pure;\nand it is now called Icelandic, which, though a dead language for\nScandinavia, is a living one in Iceland.\n\n[5] Snorro Storleson is likewise the author of the celebrated history\ncalled _Heimkringlas_, a most valuable work.\n\n[6] For the meaning of Ginnungagap and of all the other proper names,\nsee the alphabetical catalogue annexed to this preface.\n\n[7] The details of the death of Balder are not given in this Poem \u201cThe\nGods of the North.\u201d It is only alluded to in the speech of the Vala,\nin the last canto; but \u0152hlenschl\u00e4ger has treated the \u201cDeath of Balder\u201d\nseparately, and made it the subject of an admirable tragic opera, with\nchoruses and trochaics in the Greek style.\n\n[8] Respecting the tragic opera of Balder by \u0152hlenschl\u00e4ger, which I\nhave also translated, Sneedorf Birch says:\n\n\u201cThe mythe of Balder is one of the most beautiful and sublime poetical\ncompositions, whose equal is not to be found in the Greek or Roman\nmythology, or perhaps in that of any other people. This mythe has\nbesides furnished the subject of one of the finest masterpieces in\nthe Danish literature, namely, the drama of \u201cBalder the Good,\u201d by\n\u0152hlenschl\u00e4ger.\u201d\n\n[9] Sneedorf Birch.\n\n[10] Thor is called by the Scalds _Jotni-bane_, i.e. Bane of the\nGiants: perhaps Odin himself may be the original Jack the Giant-killer,\nsince one of his names is Jalc.--See the Grimnismal in the poetic Edda.\n\n[11] The French also call these tales _Les Contes de ma M\u00e8re l\u2019Oie_.\n\n\n\n\nALPHABETICAL LIST\n\nOF THE PROPER NAMES OCCURRING IN OR CONNECTED WITH THE POEM ENTITLED\n\u201cTHE GODS OF THE NORTH.\u201d\n\n\n_With the assistance of Finn Magnussen\u2019s work Eddal\u00e6ren (Doctrine of\nthe Edda), I have composed the following alphabetical list of the\nproper names which occur in this poem, wherein the attributes of the\nseveral personages are given, and which should be consulted whenever\na proper name occurs, since I have not thought it necessary to repeat\nin the notes annexed to each canto what is already given in this\ncatalogue._\n\n =\u00c6GIR= is the god of the sea, the Neptune of the Scandinavian\n mythology. His dwelling was supposed to be on the island of\n Hlesey, now called Lessoe, in the Cattegat. He is sometimes\n called Hler \u00c6gir. He is of a benevolent disposition; but his\n consort Ran, who is of giant race, is otherwise. The etymology\n of the name \u00c6gir is from the Icelandic verb _\u00c6gi_, to liquify,\n inundate, etc.\n\n =ALFADER= (Father of all) a name given to Odin, as king of\n gods and men. It is sometimes given to a supreme unknown God,\n pre-existent and superior to Odin himself.\n\n =ALF=, plural =ALFER=, are inferior elementary divinities,\n divided into two classes, viz. the white Alfer, or Alfs of\n light; and the black Alfer, or Alfs of darkness. The white\n Alfer are related to the Asar and Vaner, and are friendly to\n mankind; they dwell with Balder in his palace of Breidablik.\n The black Alfer are mischievously disposed: they are connected\n with the Dvergar (dwarfs), and like them they shun the light\n of day: they dwell in caverns and sally out at night only. Our\n word _elf_ is derived therefrom.\n\n =ANGURBOD=, name of a Jettinde (giantess), who, in consequence\n of an amour with Asa-Lok, brought forth three frightful\n offspring, viz. the wolf Fenris, the serpent Jormundgard,\n commonly called the serpent of Midgard, and Hela, queen of\n death and of the shades below. The word _Angurbod_ denotes\n \u201cmessenger of sorrow.\u201d\n\n =ARILD=, Arilds-tid (time of Arild). From _Arilds-time_ is a\n manner of reckoning among the Scandinavians, similar to our\n expression from \u201cNoah\u2019s time.\u201d It means the time when mankind\n first learned the use of fire, and to have fixed habitations.\n Etym.: _arne_ (hearth), _ild_ (fire), and _tid_ (time).\n\n =ASA=, pl. =ASAR=, name given to the gods of the Scandinavian\n mythology; the principal Asar are Odin, Thor, Frey, Balder,\n Vidar, \u00c6gir, etc. The word seems to be derived from the word\n As or Az, which in the Zend or ancient Persian language, which\n forms the link between the Gothic dialect and the Sanscrit,\n means _elevated_, _powerful_, _sublime_.\n\n =ASYNIA=, pl. =ASYNIOR=, name given to the goddesses; the\n principal Asynior are Frigga, Freya, Iduna, Sif, Gefion, Nanna,\n etc.\n\n =ASAGARD=, or =ASGARD=, is the region, the peculiar territory\n of the gods. It was supposed to be in the heavens above\n the earth, and to contain many rich domains and splendid\n buildings, inhabited by the different gods and goddesses. The\n most remarkable are the palace of Odin, called Valaskialf;\n the celebrated banqueting hall or pavilion, called Valhalla:\n Vingolf the peculiar palace and rendezvous of the Asynior, or\n goddesses: Trudvang, the domain of Thor: Fensal, the palace of\n Frigga: Folkvang, that of Freya: Breidablik, that of Balder,\n besides many others which are given in alphabetical order.\n Geographically, Asagard or Asgard was the name of a territory\n and city on the northern border of the Black Sea, from whence\n the Asiatic Goths originally came. The word _gaard_ in Danish,\n _gard_ in Swedish, means a _walled or hedged inclosure_, and is\n the root of the words _yard_, _court_ and _garden_.\n\n =ASH=, see the word Yggdrassil.\n\n =ASKUR= is the name of the first man: he and Embla, the\n first woman, were fabricated from two trees by Bor and Bure;\n according to others, by Odin, Vil and Ve. Askur and Embla were\n then placed by their makers in Midgard, to dwell therein, and\n perpetuate their race. Askur and Embla are in fact the Adam and\n Eve of the Gothic mythology. Etym.: _askr_ (ash tree).\n\n =ASTRILD= is the god of love: his name is not to be found in\n the Edda, but it appears in several of the old Sagas. Etym.:\n _Ast_, old Danish word signifying (_love_) and _ild_ (_fire_).\n\n =AUKTHOR=, a name given to Thor: it means Thor the charioteer,\n from _\u00e2ka_ (to drive), Swedish verb.\n\n =AUDUMBLA=, name of the mythologic cow formed by the Fiat of\n Alfader (the quisquis deorum), at the creation of the universe.\n By licking the salt rocks in Ginnungagap, she occasioned\n the birth of Bure, the progenitor of the Asar race. The cow\n Audumbla represents the organic power of nature acting upon\n the Chaos. The word, I think, means \u201cdevelopment,\u201d from the\n Icelandic words _aud_, particle signifying _facility_, and\n _embla_ (laborious).\n\n =BALDER= is the son of Odin and Frigga, the most beloved of\n his father and mother, the most benevolent among the Asar, the\n sun personified, the god of light, piety and poesy. He was\n slain by his twin brother H\u00e6dur, born blind, with a branch of\n the mistletoe. His fate and its consequences have been related\n at length in the preliminary discourse to this poem. Balder\n typifies the sun at the summer solstice, and his death the\n disappearance of the sun from the horizon during the winter\n months in the north, while H\u00e6dur, type of darkness, reigns. The\n word in Icelandic means _brilliant_, _beautiful_, _powerful_.\n Balder has an evident analogy with the _Baal_ of the Assyrians,\n the _Apollo_ of the Greeks, the _Horus_ of the Egyptians, the\n _Kr\u00efshna_ of the Hindoos, all of which are types of the sun in\n its highest splendour.\n\n =BAUGE=, name of a giant, who procured for Odin entrance into\n the bower of Gunliod, when he sought to make himself master\n of the vase containing the precious liquor called _Suttung\u2019s\n mead_, which was confided to the care of Gunliod. _Bolverk_ was\n the name assumed by Odin on that occasion. _Baug_ in Icelandic\n means a \u201cring,\u201d and among the northern nations in the Gothic\n time promises were made by holding a ring; and this mythe may\n mean Odin\u2019s seduction of Gunliod by means of a promise given on\n the ring.\n\n =BERGELMER=, name of the giant who, with his wife, were the\n only ones of that race who escaped being drowned in the blood\n of Ymer. He and his consort escaped on a wreck, and landed on\n the top of a mountain. From these two descended the second\n generation of giants. This mythe reminds one of the deluge of\n Noah and that of Deucalion and Pyrrha, and the mountain, mount\n Ararat; for _Bergelmer_ means the _ancient of the mountain_,\n from _berg_ (mountain), and _gamla_ (old).\n\n =BERSERK= (bare sark), name given to a sort of combatants among\n the ancient Scandinavians, who affected peculiar ferocity, and\n fought with their fists and teeth, in the absence of other\n weapons, and in no other clothing but their shirt; hence their\n name. _Berserkgang_ is a term used to signify a combat of life\n and death, and is often applied to the exploits of Thor, to\n denote their peculiar danger and difficulty.\n\n =BETSLA=, name of a beautiful giantess, the wife of Bor, and\n mother of Odin, Vil and Ve.\n\n =BIFROST=, name of the vast bridge which unites heaven to\n earth, and typifies the _rainbow_. Over this bridge the Asar\n must pass when they descend to the world below; over it must\n likewise pass the heroes slain in battle, when they ascend to\n Valhalla, escorted by the Valkyrior. Etym.: from the Icelandic\n words _bifa_ (to move) and _r\u00f6st_ (stone). The bridge Bifrost\n was supposed to be constructed of stones of various colours.\n\n =BILSKIRNIR=, name of the palace or castle of Thor, in\n Trudvang. It is tiled with copper shields, its halls are inlaid\n with gold and silver, and it has five hundred and forty gates.\n Etym.: Icelandic words _billd_ (aspect, image), and _skirna_\n (make bright).\n\n =BOLVERK=, name assumed by Odin when he served Bauge, disguised\n as a labourer. The etymology of this word may be _b\u00f6ll_ (a\n bolt) and _verk_ (work).\n\n =BOR=, or B\u00f6r, name of the son of Bure; by his union with\n the beautiful giantess Betsla, he became the father of the\n Scandinavian triad, Odin, Vil, and Ve. Bor, in Icelandic, means\n _son_. But I suspect the word to be of Hebrew origin, meaning\n _beginning_; for _b\u00f6ra_ is precisely the Hebrew word wherewith\n the first book of Genesis begins.\n\n =BRAGUR=, or =BRAGA=, an Asa, the god of poetry and musical\n declamation. At the banquets of Valhalla, he chaunts to the\n sound of his harp the praises of the gods and Einherier, and\n celebrates in high-flown language their virtues and warlike\n deeds. He is the husband of Iduna. He is called by the poets of\n the north, _Bragur hin gamle_ (_Bragur the ancient_). Etym.:\n Icelandic verb _bragga_ (to adorn, to embellish). Our English\n word _to brag_ comes probably from the same root.\n\n =BREIDABLIK=, name of the palace of Balder, in Asagard; it is\n tiled with pearls! Etym.: _breid_ (broad, extended), _blik_\n (view).\n\n =BURE=, father of Bor, and progenitor of the Asar race: his\n production, effectuated by the cow Audumbla, has been already\n related in the translator\u2019s preface. _Bure_ in Icelandic\n has the same meaning as B\u00f6r, i.e. son. Both the words come\n probably from the Hebrew or Zend, and mean the same thing, viz.\n _origin_ or _beginning_.\n\n =DAG= (day), the son of Delling.\n\n =DELLING=, name of the father of Dag (day); the word means\n _division_.\n\n =DISA=, pl. =DISAR=; name given to the Asynior, or goddesses.\n This word is evidently of Persian origin.\n\n =DISARSAL= (hall of the Disar), name often given to the palace\n of Vingolf, the peculiar place of reunion for the goddesses in\n Asagard.\n\n =DOVRE=, name of a chain of mountains in Norway, which seems to\n bear the same relation to Asagard as the natural mount Olympus\n in Greece bears to the mythological one.\n\n =DRAPA= means _funeral dirge_, or song of the _apotheosis_. In\n it were celebrated the funeral ceremonies of a deceased hero,\n his glorious actions recapitulated, and his elevation to the\n rank of an Einherier and admission into Valhalla triumphantly\n announced. The English word _dirge_ comes, perhaps, from the\n Icelandic and Swedish verb _dyrka_ (to adore).\n\n =DRUPNER=, name of a magic ring fabricated for Odin by the\n dwarfs, at the command of Asa-Lok. This ring had the faculty\n of dropping eight other rings on every ninth night: by this\n is typified the change of the moon and its phases. When Odin\n placed the ring Drupner on the bosom of his son Balder, when he\n laid his corpse upon the funeral pile, he whispered a secret in\n his ear. This may allude to the promise of resurrection, but\n none knew the secret, save Odin himself. The placing of the\n ring Drupner (the moon) on the bosom of Balder (the sun) may\n typify the eclipse of the sun by the moon intervening. Etym.:\n from the Icelandic verb _driupa_ (to drop, or distil).\n\n =DVERG=, pl. =DVERGAR= (Dwarf), mythological beings, of\n short stature, who dwelt in caverns and were skilful in the\n fabrication of metallic instruments. They are unable to bear\n the glare of the sun, and prefer to rove about at night. From\n this circumstance, and from their being at times disposed to\n mischief, they are considered as related to the giants; but\n they are employed both by gods and giants to make armour and\n other instruments for them. They are represented as being of an\n exceedingly timorous disposition.\n\n =DWARFS=, see =DVERG=.\n\n =EIKTHYRNIR=, name of the mythological stag which stands on\n the roof of the portal of Valaskialf, and from whose antlers\n springs a fountain which furnishes water to all the rivers of\n the earth. Etym.: _eikt_ (vigils), _hyrnir_ (horns).\n\n =EINHERIER=, name given to mortal warriors deified for their\n valour, and admitted among the Asar; they are constant guests\n at the banquets of Valhalla. Their occupations and amusements\n are thus described in the prosaic Edda: \u201cEvery day they dress\n themselves in their armour, go out on horseback to fight, and\n cut at one another; thus they pass their time. But when the\n hour of repast approaches, they ride home to the palace, and\n take their seats at the banquet.\u201d In the elder or poetic Edda,\n in the chapter called the Vaftrudnismal, are the following\n words concerning them:\n\n \u201cAll the Einherier\n In Odin\u2019s domain,\n Fight together daily,\n And choose their prey of death:\n From the battle they ride afterwards\n To drink beer with the Asar,\n And to feast on the flesh of S\u00e2hrimner,\n In joy and amity.\u201d\n\n Etym.: _einn_ (one, unique), and _heria_ (to bear arms).\n\n =EIR=, name of an Asynia, whose office it is to heal the wounds\n of the Einherier, when they are first admitted into Valhalla,\n by squeezing into their wounds the juice of the beet. She is,\n in fact, the goddess of medicine.\n\n =ELDIR=, name of \u00c6gir\u2019s purveyor; he is supposed to dwell under\n the famous whirlpool of Malstrom, and to break in pieces with\n his club every bark that is engulfed therein. Etym.: _eld_\n (fire), and may allude to the subterranean fire supposed to be\n under Malstrom, and to cause its effervescence.\n\n =ELIVAGOR= is, mythologically, the collective name of the\n rivers that flow from the source Hvergelmer, in Ginnungagap.\n Geographically, Elivagor is thought to mean the mouth of the\n White Sea. Etym.: _elf_ (a stream), and _vaga_ (to wander).\n\n =ELYERHOY=, name of a hill or barrow in the island of Sealand\n (Denmark), so called from its being the supposed habitation of\n _alfs_ or _elves_. In Danish, _hoi_ means _height_.\n\n =EMBLA=, name of the first woman, according to the Scandinavian\n mythology. See Askur. _Embla_ means _laborious_, _productive_.\n\n =FENRIS=, name of the mythologic wolf, begotten by Asa-Lok on\n the witch or giantess Angurbod. He is malignant, frightful to\n behold, and his nostrils vomit fire. His presence inspired the\n gods with such terror, that they endeavoured to bind him with\n chains of iron and copper; but these he easily burst asunder;\n they then had resource to a stratagem, and succeeded in binding\n him with a magic chain, which was composed as follows: of the\n noise of cat\u2019s feet, of the beards of women, of the breath of\n birds, of the saliva of fish, of the nerves of bears, and of\n the roots of mountains. This chain he could not break. The\n Asar then cast him down into Niffelheim, and placed him at the\n gate of Helheim, the residence of Hela. There he is to remain\n chained until Ragnarok; he will then break his chain, join in\n the battle of the giants against the gods, and devour Odin; but\n he will be afterwards himself slain by Vidar. By Fenris wolf is\n typified the subterranean fire, which it is supposed will one\n day occasion the conflagration of the universe. Etym.: _Fenia_\n (giantess or sorceress), _risi_ (to spring from).\n\n =FENSAL=, name of the palace of Frigga, in Asagard. Probable\n etym.: _fengisall_ (happy in acquiring riches).\n\n =FIALAR=, name of the mythologic cock which is to crow at\n Ragnarok, to excite the gods and giants to combat. _Fiallar_,\n in Icelandic, means _cock_.\n\n =FINNAFENG=, name of the cook of \u00c6gir, god of the sea; he is\n slain by Asa-Lok for refusing him admittance to \u00c6gir\u2019s banquet.\n The etymology may be from the Icelandic words _fina_ (a piece\n of flesh), _fenge_ (a capture).\n\n =FOLKVANGUR= or =FOLKVANG=, name of the palace of Freya in\n Asagard, into which are admitted, after death, faithful lovers\n and virtuous women.\n\n =FORSETE=, an Asa, the son of Balder, and god of justice; he\n dwells in his palace Glitner. He often descends to earth,\n to sit in judgment, and hear causes under the shade of the\n ash-tree Yggdrassil, near the fountain of Urda. He is the son\n of Balder, inasmuch as justice proceeds from light; and as Urda\n is the Norna or destiny of the past, it is from her fountain\n (i.e. consulting the records of the past) that he acquires\n experience. The etymology of this word is _for_ (before), and\n _sete_ (set), ergo _pr\u00e6ses_, _president_.\n\n =FREY=, or =FREYR=, is the god of liberty, joy and fecundity;\n he is the son of Niord, and brother of Freya. He is invoked for\n sunshine and good crops. He represents the sun at the winter\n solstice. The new year\u2019s feast was instituted to do him honour;\n it was the day of his birth, and a season of festivity and joy.\n He was the owner of a magic sword, but falling in love with\n Gerda, a beautiful damsel of Jotun race, he gave it away to her\n father, in order to obtain his consent to their union. He is to\n be slain by Surtur at Ragnarok. Etym.: _frei_ (free), _fri\u00f2_\n (seed). It is remarkable that in Egypt the sun was called\n _Phr\u00e9_. The Swedish word _fr\u00f6id_ (joy) is probably derived from\n the name of this god.\n\n =FREYA= is the Venus of the Scandinavians, the goddess of love,\n beauty, pleasure and fecundity; she is the sister of Frey,\n and daughter of Niord. She is the most beautiful of all the\n Asynior. She was married to Odur; but when the goddess Iduna,\n with her golden vase containing the fruit of immortality, was\n stolen from Asagard, Freya, in common with the other Asar,\n lost her youth and beauty; and Odur, disgusted at the change,\n fled from her embraces. On the deliverance of Iduna, Freya\n recovered her youth and beauty, but her Odur never returned.\n She wandered all over the earth in search of him, but in vain.\n She weeps continually for his loss, and sheds tears of gold.\n When she travels, it is in a golden car, drawn by two black\n cats. Freya has two daughters, Siofna and Hnos, both remarkable\n for their beauty and gentleness. The Dutch word _fraai_\n (handsome), is derived probably from Freya.\n\n =FRIGGA= is the wife of Odin, the queen of the gods, the Juno\n and Ceres of the Scandinavian mythology. She sometimes typifies\n the earth, as Odin does the heavens; they become thus identic\n with the \u039f\u03c5\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 and \u0393\u03b7 of the Greeks. She is pleased with\n offerings of fruits and flowers, and is herself extremely\n generous and beneficent. The constellation \u201cOrion\u2019s belt,\u201d is\n termed by the Scalds the \u201cspinning-wheel of Frigga.\u201d She is the\n mother of Balder, H\u00e6dur, Thor, etc. The etymology of Frigga is\n _fri\u00f2_ (seed), _g\u00e0_ (to take care of).\n\n =FULLA=, name of an Asynia, the handmaid and confidante of\n Frigga, and guardian of her jewels and wardrobe. She hands\n round the plates to the guests at the banquet of Valhalla.\n Her name typifies _abundance_; _voll_, _full_, in the German\n and English languages, and _fuld_, _full_, in the Danish and\n Swedish, all meaning the same thing, are probably derived\n therefrom.\n\n =GARDERIKE=, name given by the ancient Scandinavians to a part\n of Russia.\n\n =GARM=, name of the mythologic dog, who remains chained at the\n cavern of Gnypa, until Ragnarok; he will then break his chain,\n and fight with Tyr; both will perish.\n\n =GAUTHIOD= (Gothland), a name of Sweden.\n\n =GEFION=, an Asynia, the goddess of virginity, herself a\n virgin; she receives in her domain in Asagard women, who\n die unmarried. She is the founder of the island of Sealand\n (Denmark), which was supposed to have been formerly joined\n to the continent of Sweden, and which, at her request, was\n ploughed around, separated from the mainland, and dragged\n into the Ocean by the sons of Gyllfe, who, to please her,\n transformed themselves into oxen, and performed the said\n service.\n\n =GEIRSODD= means \u201cpoint of a lance.\u201d The historical Odin, when\n on his death-bed, cut his veins with the point of a lance,\n assuring his surviving followers and companions, that those\n who died on the field of battle, or in this manner covered\n with blood, would meet him in Valhalla, and partake of all\n the delights of the immortals. Hence the natural death by old\n age or sickness, called emphatically _str\u00e2 d\u00f6d_ (death on\n the straw), was looked upon as ignominious by the northern\n warriors, and as exposing them to the danger of falling into\n the clutches of Hela. They, in consequence, when they felt\n their end approaching, either by old age or sickness, opened\n their veins, and bled to death; this was called _cutting runes\n to Odin_, or otherwise _geirsodd rita_ (to scratch with the\n point of a lance); and this, as they believed, ensured them\n admission into Valhalla.\n\n =GERDA=, a beautiful damsel of Jotun race, daughter of the\n giant Gymer. She was united to Frey with the consent of all\n the gods, and admitted among the Asynior. She was renowned for\n her beauty, piety and virtue. Finn Magnussen thinks that Gerda\n is a type of the _aurora borealis_, which replaces the light\n of the sun in winter, in the extreme northern regions; Frey\n himself typifying the sun. Others suppose that Gerda typifies\n the earth, and her amour with Frey the relationship between the\n earth and the sun.\n\n =GESTUR=, name of a blind giant who proposes riddles and\n enigmas to Skirnir on his journey to the world below, for the\n purpose of visiting Gerda.\n\n =GIALLAR=, name of the horn of Heimdal, which he blows, to give\n notice to the gods of those who arrive at, and attempt to cross\n the bridge Bifrost. Etym.: Icelandic verb _gala_ (to sing, to\n call out). The English verb _call_, and the Swedish and Danish\n verbs _kalla_, _kalde_, come from the same root.\n\n =GIANTS=, called in the Scandinavian dialects Jotun, Jetter,\n J\u00e2ttar, the evil genii of the Gothic mythology. At Ragnarok\n they are to fight with and defeat the Asar on the plains of\n Vigrid; but they are themselves to perish in the conflagration\n that ensues, and they will never be resuscitated (i.e. in a\n future state of existence there will be no violence or crime).\n The giants dwell in their peculiar territory, Jotunheim, in\n Utgard, and are ruled by their sovereign, Lok, commonly called\n Utgard-Lok, to distinguish him from an Asa of the same name.\n The giants were supposed to be of various forms and races,\n some having the heads of wild beasts joined to human bodies,\n and others the human form entire. They understood magic,\n were capable of assuming divers shapes, and of increasing or\n diminishing their stature _ad libitum_. They seem to bear a\n great resemblance to the Titans of the Greek, and to the\n Afrites of the Mohammedan theology, and all are borrowed from\n the Persian system, the doctrine of the Magi.\n\n =GIMLE=, the most beautiful of all buildings, in which virtuous\n mortals are to dwell together with the gods, after the\n reconstruction of the universe, in eternal joy and felicity.\n The grave is often termed by the Scalds, \u201cthe verdant gate of\n Gimle.\u201d The German word Himmel (heaven) is derived therefrom.\n Etym.: from the Icelandic word _gimlir_ (splendour).\n\n =GINNUNGAGAP=, name of the vast abyss which existed before the\n present world, and separated Niffelheim (region of fog) from\n Muspelheim (region of heat). Etym.: _Ginning_ (between), and\n _gapi_ (to yawn or open). The following verbs, in different\n languages, all come from the Icelandic verb _gapi_, and have\n the very same meaning, viz. _to gape_, English; _gapa_,\n Swedish; _gabe_, Danish; _gapen_, Dutch; _gaffen_, German; and\n the Greek words \u03c7\u03b1\u03c9, \u03c7\u03b1\u03bf\u03c2 and \u03c7\u03b1\u03c3\u03bc\u03b1 (chasm) are likewise from\n the same root.\n\n =GLADHEIM=, a general name given to the abodes of the gods in\n Asagard, and often used as a synonyme for Valhalla. Etym.:\n _glad_ (joy, gladness), and _heim_ (home, or abode).\n\n =GLADHEIMASAL= means _hall of the abode of gladness_, applied\n as Gladheim.\n\n =GLITNER=, name of the palace of Forsete, the god of justice.\n The word means _equalisation_. It represents the station of\n the sun between August 23 and September 23, beginning of the\n autumnal equinox, corresponding with the sign of the zodiac\n Libra (the balance).\n\n =GNA=, an Asynia, messenger and confidante of Frigga. When she\n executes the commissions of her mistress, she rides on the\n steed Hofvarpur.\n\n =GNYPA=, name of a cavern in Niffelheim. Etym.: Icelandic word\n _gnypr_ (steep).\n\n =GUDBRAND=, or Guldbrand, name of a fertile valley in the\n province of Aggerhuys, in Norway.\n\n =GULDVEIGE=, a female divinity, personifying riches. Etym.:\n _guld_ (gold), _veige_ (weigh).\n\n =GUNLIOD=, name of the daughter of Suttung, to whose care her\n father confided the vase containing the precious beverage\n called _Suttung\u2019s mead_. Seduced by Odin, she surrenders to him\n the vase.\n\n =GYLLFE=, name of a king of Jotun race, who reigned over a part\n of Sweden at the time of the invasion of the historical Odin.\n\n =GYLLINBORSTE= (golden-bristled), name of the mythological\n golden boar, fabricated by the dwarfs at the instance of\n Asa-Lok, and presented to Frey to serve him as a steed,\n mounted on which he travels round the world. According to Finn\n Magnussen, it is a type of the sun.\n\n =GYMER=, name of a Jotun or giant, the father of Gerda. Etym.:\n _gima_ (_transmitting light_).\n\n =H\u00c6NIR=, name of an Asa, the god of intellect; he accompanies\n Odin on his travels. By some he is considered as identic with\n _Vil_, the second person of the Scandinavian mythological triad.\n\n =H\u00c6RFADER= (father of the fight), one of the many names given\n to Odin.\n\n =HAGBARTH=, name of a Norwegian prince, celebrated for his\n valour and his attachment to Signe, a Danish princess. Having\n had the misfortune to kill Signe\u2019s brother in single combat,\n he falls into the hands of the mother, who, to revenge her\n son\u2019s death, causes Hagbarth to be hanged. Signe, in despair at\n the loss of her lover, destroys herself. The unfortunate love\n of Hagbarth and Signe has been the theme of many a northern\n ballad, and \u0152hlenschl\u00e4ger himself has made it the subject of a\n most interesting and pathetic tragedy.\n\n =HARBARD=, in this poem, is the name of a ferryman of Jotun\n race, who refuses to ferry Skirnir across a river until he has\n answered his questions and displayed his knowledge.\n\n =HEIDRUNA=, name of the mythological goat who stands on the\n roof of Valaskialf, and whose teats afford a constant supply of\n hydromel to the guests at Valhalla.\n\n =HEIMDAL=, or Heimdaller, name of an Asa who stands as sentinel\n at the bridge of Bifrost, to give notice of the approach of\n strangers by blowing his horn Giallar. He is constantly on the\n alert to prevent surprise on the part of the giants. Of him it\n is said, that he was born of nine mothers; that he had a tooth\n of gold; that he could do without sleep; see at a distance of\n a hundred miles, as well by night as by day; hear wool grow on\n the backs of sheep, and grasses shoot. By his doing without\n sleep may be meant the absence of night from the northern polar\n regions during the summer months. At Ragnarok, he will blow his\n horn with all his force, to excite the gods to combat. Etym.:\n _Heim_ (abode), and _dallr_ (horn).\n\n =HEIMKRINGLAS=, name given to the universe in the Scandinavian\n mythology. Etym.: _Heim_ (abode), _kring_ (round about), and\n _l\u00e2s_ (clasp).\n\n =HELA=, or =HEL=, name of the queen of death and of the shades\n below, daughter of Asa-Lok and of the giantess Angurbod. She\n is frightful and appalling to behold: her body is of white\n or natural colour below the girdle, but all above is blue or\n livid, from congealed blood. The gods, terrified at her sight,\n exiled her from Asagard, and cast her down into Niffelheim, to\n rule over the dead. There, in her castle Helheim, she receives\n the ghosts of the worthless and cowardly, and of those who\n die of old age or sickness, who omit to _cut runes to Odin_.\n Of Hela it is said in the prosaic Edda, that her abode is\n _anguish_; her table, _famine_; her attendants, _delay_ and\n _fruitless expectation_; her threshold, _precipice_; her bed,\n _lingering sickness_; her bed-curtains, _heart-rending care_.\n\n =HELHEIM= (abode of Hela), name of a strong castle situate\n in Niffelheim, in the midst of eternal damp, ice, snow and\n darkness. Herein Hela receives and detains her dead guests.\n\n =HERMOD=, an Asa, the messenger of Odin; from his name and\n attributes he bears a strong resemblance to the Mercury of the\n Greeks, _Hermes_.\n\n =HERTHA= (the Earth), a purely allegorical divinity, and\n sometimes used as a synonyme for Frigga. In the pagan time her\n image was bathed once a year by female slaves, captives of war,\n who were afterwards drowned by the priests in her honour, that\n they might not reveal to profane ears the description of the\n charms and mysteries they had seen and witnessed.\n\n =HILDUR=, name of a heroine in the northern legends, afterwards\n deified and enrolled among the Valkyrior. The story of Hildur,\n as related by Samsoes, is as follows: Her lover Hedin and her\n father Hogni slew one another in single combat. One night,\n in the violence of her grief, she by her magic spells evoked\n the ghost of Hedin; but her spells were so powerful, that the\n ghost of her father Hogni also arose. The two ghosts commence\n fighting, and every night they renew the combat, which is\n destined to last until Ragnarok. Hildur is present and applauds\n their courage. From this circumstance, War is called by the\n Skalds _Hildur\u2019s game_.\n\n =HLESEY=, an Island in the Cattegat, supposed to be the\n peculiar residence of \u00c6gir, the god of the sea. Hlesey is now\n called _Lessoe_. The word _oe_ in Danish and _\u00f6_ in Swedish\n means Island.\n\n =HLIDSKIALF=, name of an immense high tower in Odin\u2019s palace\n Valaskialf, from the top of which he can see all that passes in\n the world below.\n\n =HLORRIDA=, a name given to Thor, when he drives his car\n through the air, causing thunder. Etym.: _Hliod_ (sound), and\n _rida_ (to ride).\n\n =HLYN=, name of an Asynia, sent by Frigga to warn mankind of\n sudden danger during darkness; from its etymology it evidently\n typifies the flash of lightning that occurs at intervals during\n a very dark night. The Danish word _lyn_ signifies \u201clightning.\u201d\n\n =HNOS=, name of a beautiful female child, the daughter of\n Freya. Etym.: _hnoss_, an Icelandic word meaning _a precious\n thing_.\n\n =HOEDUR= or =HOEDER=, an Asa, twin brother of Balder; he was\n born blind. How he slew his brother Balder with a lance made of\n a branch of mistletoe has been already related. H\u00f4dur is the\n type of night and darkness, as Balder is that of light and day.\n\n =HOFVARPUR=, name of the steed mounted by Gna the messenger of\n Frigga.\n\n =HRIMFAX=, name of the steed which draws the chariot of Night.\n It means \u201cfrost bringer;\u201d this steed is sometimes mounted by\n Skada.\n\n =HRIMTHUSSER=, mythologically, the name of a race of giants;\n the word means \u201cfrost-demon\u201d; and from the word _thuss_, demon\n or evil spirit, comes probably the English word _deuce_.\n Historically, they were probably the name of some Tartar tribe\n at war with the Asar, and who harassed them exceedingly on\n their march. From being good archers, and shutting one eye when\n they took aim, they obtained the reputation of being one-eyed.\n\n =HRINGHORN=, name of the bark or vessel of Balder, on board\n of which his body was placed, and burnt after his death. It\n derives its name from the circumstance of its prow being\n decorated with rings of horn. Among the Skalds a ship was\n often compared to an animal, and its masts to the horns of an\n animal. These masts were made fast with iron rings round their\n circumference, and this I take to be the surest origin of the\n etymology of the name Hringhorn or Ringhorn.\n\n =HROSVELGER=, name of a giant, who, in the shape of an eagle,\n causes tempests by the flapping of his wings. Etym.: _hrosi_\n (corpse), and _svelge_ (swallow), the wind being the cleanser\n of all impurities.\n\n =HRUGNER=, name of a giant made of stone, and animated by the\n giants, in order to aid them in the conflict with the Asar.\n Within his breast, instead of a heart, he had a three-corner\n stone. He typifies probably a volcano, since in the Icelandic\n tongue _Hrungnir_ signifies \u201csomething that makes a violent\n noise.\u201d Hrugner was slain by Thor.\n\n =HUGIN= and =MUNIN=, names given to Odin\u2019s two ravens, who\n descend to earth, and bring back to him the news from the\n nether world; when not employed as messengers, they perch\n themselves on Odin\u2019s shoulders. By _Hugin_ is meant \u201cthought,\u201d\n and by _Munin_ \u201cmemory.\u201d\n\n =HVERGELMER=, name of a source or fountain in Niffelheim.\n Etym.: _Hver_ (urn or kettle), and _gamla_ (old).\n\n =HYMIR=, name of a giant, with whom Thor goes a-fishing in the\n disguise of a peasant lad. He catches the serpent Jormundgard,\n but Hymir files in two the anchor which served as a hook, and\n the serpent escapes.\n\n =IDA=, =IDAVALLEN=, name of the plain, on which the\n resuscitated Asar and the human race are to be assembled by\n Vidar, after the reconstruction of the world.\n\n =IDUNA=, name of an Asynia, wife of Bragur. She is the guardian\n of the golden vase, containing the apples of immortality, the\n juice of which gives to the gods perpetual youth, health and\n beauty. She was once carried off from Asagard by the giant\n Thiasse, aided by the treachery of Asa Lok; and the gods\n became at once old and feeble; but when Iduna was recovered,\n and brought back to Valhalla with her precious vase, the gods\n recovered all their power and advantageous attributes. This\n mythe of Iduna\u2019s apples has its parallel in the Amreeta (drink\n of immortality) in the Hindoo mythology.\n\n =ISSEFIORD=, name of a large creek or _fiord_, in the island of\n Sealand (Denmark), lying towards the north.\n\n =JETTE=, pl. =JETTER=, =JOTUN=. So were called the evil genii\n or giants of the Gothic mythology. Historically, they were\n probably the aboriginal inhabitants of Scandinavia, and were\n of Celtic race, with black hair. Being engaged in continual\n and deadly warfare with the Asar or Goths, from the time of\n Odin\u2019s invasion, these last may have, from a spirit of national\n hatred, transferred the appellation Jotun to the evil genii of\n their own mythology, before that epoch termed _Hrimthusser_. In\n spite, however, of the hatred and jealousy between the Asar and\n Jetter, they sometimes, like the Spaniards and Moors, formed\n political and also matrimonial alliances.\n\n =JORMUNGARD=, name of the mythologic serpent, called also the\n serpent of Midgard. This serpent was offspring of Asa Lok,\n by the giantess Angurbod. His enormous size and frightful\n appearance excited such terror in the breast of the gods, that\n they hurled him down into the ocean that surrounds Midgard.\n There he is to remain until Ragnarok. On that day he will join\n the giants in the battle against the gods, and will be slain by\n Thor; but Thor will perish himself immediately after, from the\n effect of the serpent\u2019s venom. This serpent is represented by\n the poets as holding his tail in his mouth, and is no doubt an\n emblem of the great Ocean, which was thought in those times to\n encircle the earth. His venom represents the dangerous effects\n of humidity. In the Hindoo mythology, there is the serpent\n _Naga_, which typifies the Ocean. Etym.: _jord_ (earth), _munr_\n (mouth), _gard_ (inclosure).\n\n =JOTUN= (giant); see _Jette_ and _Giant_.\n\n =JOTUNHEIM=, peculiar province of the Jotun or giants in\n Utgard. Geographically, it is thought to denote Siberia.\n\n =LAUFEY=, or =LAUFEIA=, name of a giantess, the mother of Asa\n Lok.\n\n =LEIRE=, name of the ancient capital of Denmark, situated on\n the Issefiord, in Sealand. Leire was the theatre of many an\n important event. The modern city of Roskild is very near the\n spot, where Leire once stood.\n\n =LIF= and =LIFTRASIR=, names of two mythological beings, who\n remain concealed in the wood of Hoddmimer, at the destruction\n of the world, and from whom the new race of men are to spring;\n these beings are purely allegorical, for _lif_ signifies\n \u201clife,\u201d and _liftrasir_ \u201cproducer of life.\u201d\n\n =LINDERN\u00c6S=, name of a promontory on the southern coast of\n Norway, in the canton of Mandal.\n\n =LODER=, an Asa, who conferred beauty on mankind; by some he\n is confounded with Ve, the third person of the Scandinavian\n mythologic triad.\n\n =LOFNA=, name of an Asynia, who presided over marriage. Etym.:\n Icelandic verb _lofa_ (to promise, to betroth).\n\n =LOK=, =ASA LOK=, =UTGARD LOK=. In the Gothic mythology,\n there are two important personages of the name of Lok or Loke,\n in the earliest times perhaps identic, but in the latter\n divided; namely Lok of Utgard, the supreme ruler of the giants\n or malevolent spirits, belonging to our world\u2019s system, who\n dwells in and rules over Utgard; and Asa Lok, originally of\n giant race, but admitted among the Asar. According to Ling, a\n modern Swedish poet, in the notes to his poem, called _Asarne_\n (the Asar), the mythe of the two Loks is thus explained: Utgard\n Lok represents the subterranean fire and its destructive\n effects, earthquakes and volcanic eruptions; Asa Lok represents\n the deleterious qualities of the air, such as tempests and\n unwholesome exhalations. In my opinion, the most simple\n explanation of this mythe would be as follows: Utgard Lok\n typifies physical evils and calamities, and in this respect he\n resembles the Siva of the Hindoos; as possessor of subterranean\n riches, he resembles the Plutus of the Greeks, who, as we are\n told, was related to Pluto. Asa Lok is the type of moral evil,\n or the propensity to vice in human nature, which has been\n personified by the Orientals, under the various names of Satan,\n Ahrimanes, Belial and Eblis. The punishment inflicted on Asa\n Lok for his treachery has been already related. At Ragnarok,\n he will break his chain, and join in combat with the giants\n against the gods. He and Heimdal will destroy each other.\n\n =LOPTUR=, a name given to Asa Lok; it means _one who runs\n through the air_.\n\n =MALSTROM=, name of the famous whirlpool on the coast of\n Norway, near Lofoden. _Malstrom_ signifies \u201cmillstream.\u201d It is\n called by the Skalds the _mill of \u00c6gir_.\n\n =MAANEGARM=, name of the mythologic winged goblin, who\n constantly pursues the moon (maane), and will swallow her up at\n Ragnarok.\n\n =MANHEIM= (abode of man), a name often given to Midgard, or the\n earth.\n\n =MEGINGARD= (girdle of strength), name of Thor\u2019s belt, which\n had the faculty of doubling his force when he girded himself\n with it.\n\n =MIDGARD=, name given to the earth, as being in the _middle\n region_ between Asagard and Utgard.\n\n =MIMER=, an Asa, the god of eloquence and of wisdom; he sits by\n the wave of Urda, called the fountain of wisdom, of which he is\n the guardian, and which springs near the ash-tree Yggdrassil.\n Urda is the destiny of the past, so that the allegory is clear;\n by consulting the records of the past, we gain wisdom and\n experience.\n\n =MI\u00d6LNER= (breaker in pieces), name of Thor\u2019s hammer, type of\n the thunderbolt.\n\n =MOKKURKALF=, name of a gigantic figure made of clay, and\n animated by the giants, that he might aid them against Thor.\n They gave to him the heart of a horse. This may allude to the\n custom among many heathen nations of consecrating an idol of\n clay, wood or stone, by putting therein the heart of a man, or\n of some animal. Mokkurkalf was slain by Tialf.\n\n =MUSPEL=, =MUSPELHEIM=, name given to the region of fire and\n heat which lies to the south of Ginnungagap, and from whence\n at Ragnarok, Surtur will collect flames, and set fire to the\n universe. Flames are often termed by the Scalds \u201cthe children\n of Muspel.\u201d\n\n =NAGLEFARE= (ship of nails), name of a bark or vessel built by\n the giants. As its name imports, it was built of men\u2019s nails.\n On board of this vessel, the giants will embark at Ragnarok,\n to give battle to the gods. The giants are continually at work\n to increase its size; hence, those who neglect to cut off the\n nails from the hands and feet of dead men, contribute to the\n building of this vessel, and to the mischief that will ensue\n from it. The popular belief of the continuation of the growth\n of the hair and nails after death, has probably contributed to\n this mythe.\n\n =NANNA=, an Asynia, the wife of Balder, renowned for her piety\n and constancy. At his death she threw herself on his funeral\n pile, and was burned with him.\n\n =NARF=, name of a giant, the father of Night, and also the name\n of one of Asa-Lok\u2019s sons by Sigyn.\n\n =NASTROND=, name of a frightful and noisome marsh in the\n subterranean world, filled with venomous serpents, and destined\n as a place of punishment in the future life for those who are\n absolutely incorrigible.\n\n =NIDAROS=, a city in Norway of great historical celebrity, the\n ancient capital of the kingdom, and now called Trondhjem, and\n by the Germans Drontheim.\n\n =NIDDING= means \u201c_scoundrel_,\u201d \u201c_worthless fellow_;\u201d it was the\n greatest insult to a Scandinavian to call him a Nidding, and\n the offence could only be expiated by the blood of the offender.\n\n =NIDH\u00d6G=, name of a frightful dragon that dwells in the marsh\n of Nastrond, and who continually gnaws the root of the Ash-tree\n Yggdrassil. Etym.: _nid_ (reproach, abuse), _h\u00f6gg_ (blow), in\n Icel.\n\n =NIFFELHEIM=, department of Utgard, region of eternal cold,\n fog, darkness and horror, lying to the north of Ginnungagap.\n It is sometimes used as a synonyme for Utgard, or for Helheim.\n _Niffel_ means \u201cfog.\u201d\n\n =NIORD=, or =NIORDUR=, is the \u00c6olus of the Scandinavians, the\n god of the winds. He is of Vaner race, and is father of Frey\n and Freya. He was admitted among the Asar to preside over the\n winds and is the type of the north wind in particular. He is\n invoked by fishermen and travellers. He was afterwards married\n to Skada, daughter of the giant Thiasse.--Niord is of a very\n friendly and benevolent disposition. See the articles _Skada_\n and _Vaner_.\n\n =NORNA=, pl. =NORNOR=, name of the Parc\u00e6, or Fates of the\n Scandinavians; they were three in number, viz. Urda, Norna, or\n destiny of the past; Verdandis, of the present; Skulda, of the\n future. They sit near the Ash Yggdrassil, the tree of time,\n where they weave the woof of human destiny.\n\n =ODIN= is the Chief Asa, the king of gods and men, the\n Jupiter and Mars of the Scandinavian mythology, and the\n grand progenitor of the Scandinavian kings. Some think that\n this was the name given to the supreme God of nature by the\n Asar, previous to the invasion of the north-west of Europe\n by the historical Odin, whose real name is said to be Sigge\n (conqueror); and that the name of Odin was assumed by Sigge\n during his life, or given to him by his followers after his\n death. Others think that the real name of the great conqueror\n was Odin, and that his name was given to the supreme unknown\n God. At all events, the historical Odin was deified after\n his death, and being confounded with the mythologic one, was\n from that period worshipped as the supreme ruler of the\n universe. Odin has an immense number of appellations, the\n most remarkable of which are Alfader, H\u0153rfader and Valfader.\n As god of war he is accompanied by two favourite wolves, one\n called Gere (rapacity), and the other Freke (audacity), to whom\n he gives his share of food at the banquet of Valhalla; for\n according to the Edda, Odin lives on wine alone. Odin has also\n two favourite ravens, one called Hugin (thought), the other\n Munin (memory), who sit perched on his shoulders, and whom he\n sometimes dispatches to bring him news from the nether world.\n At Ragnarok, Odin is to be swallowed up by the wolf Fenris.\n Odin bears a lance called Gugner.\n\n =ODUR=, name of the husband of Freya, whom he abandoned on the\n loss of her youth and beauty. He was changed into a statue by\n Odin, as a punishment for his desertion. He was the inventor of\n the art of making wine.\n\n =OLUF=, a king of Denmark, slain by Starkodder, whom he\n afterwards meets in Valhalla.\n\n =QVASER=, name of a chief of Vaner race by his mother; his\n father, name unknown, was an Asa. He taught mankind arts and\n sciences, but particularly poetry. He was killed by two dwarfs,\n who mixed his blood with honey, and poured it into a golden\n vase. This drink had the faculty of inspiring poetical talent.\n Suttung, the brother of Qvaser, revenged his death on the two\n dwarfs, by binding them to a rock in the mid-ocean, where they\n suffer perpetual hunger. He then took the vessel containing the\n sacred liquor, and gave it in charge to his daughter Gunliod.\n This liquor is called by the Scalds \u201cSuttung\u2019s mead,\u201d and is\n used as a synonyme for poetical inspiration. Etym.: _Qvasir_,\n Icelandic word meaning \u201cbreath\u201d or \u201cinspiration.\u201d\n\n =RAGNAROK=, called also \u201cthe twilight of the gods,\u201d is the\n _last day_, according to the Scandinavian mythology, the day,\n on which the whole creation, gods, giants, and mankind are to\n perish in a shower of fire and blood. Ragnarok will be preceded\n by a dreadfully severe winter of three years duration, called\n the Fimbul-vetr. At Ragnarok the wolf Fenris will break his\n chain, and so will Lok. A grand battle will be fought between\n the gods and giants on the plains of Vigrid, wherein the\n latter will be victorious; but it will be a fruitless victory,\n for Surtur, with flames from Muspelheim, will set fire to\n the universe, and involve victors and vanquished in general\n destruction. Vidar alone will survive the general conflagration\n and reconstruct the universe. The etymology of the word\n Ragnarok, I conceive to be the two Icelandic words: _ragna_ (to\n imprecate, implore vengeance), and _rok_ (violent tempest).\n Some derive it from _regin_ (dynasts or gods), and _r\u00f6ckur_\n (twilight).\n\n =RAN= or =RANA=, name of a giantess, wife of \u00c6gir the god of\n the sea. She is of an extremely malevolent disposition, and\n takes pleasure in causing shipwrecks and drowning sailors. In\n the pagan time, when seamen found their ship about to sink,\n it was their custom to hold a piece of money in their hand,\n to propitiate Ran. In fact, Ran personifies the dangers and\n destructive properties of the sea; \u00c6gir the salubrious and\n beneficial ones. The word _Ran_ in Icelandic means \u201crapacity,\u201d\n and from it comes the Danish verb _rane_ (to rob).\n\n =RATATOSK=, name of the mythologic squirrel that resides on the\n branches of the Ash Yggdrassil, and employs himself in running\n up and down the tree, in order to sow discord between the Eagle\n Hrosvelger, who sits on the top, and the dragon Nidh\u00f6g, who\n lies at its root. This will remind the reader of the fable of\n \u00c6sop of the eagle, the cat and the sow.\n\n =RINDA=, name of a princess of Garderike, seduced by Odin.\n\n =ROSKA=, name of a peasant\u2019s daughter who, with her brother\n Tialfe, was adopted by Thor and accompanied him on his travels.\n She was elevated to the rank of an Asynia, and placed in\n Folkvang, to dwell with Freya.\n\n =RUNES=, mean \u201cletters of the alphabet\u201d or writings.\n\n =SAGA=, an Asynia, the goddess of history; she is represented\n with a graver and shield, on which she engraves events worthy\n of commemoration.\n\n =S\u00c6HRIMNER=, name of the mythologic hog, whose flesh furnishes\n food for the banquets of Valhalla. It is killed every morning\n and resuscitated every night.\n\n =SIF=, or =SIFIA=, an Asynia, the wife of Thor, renowned for\n the beauty of her hair. Asa-Lok, to revenge himself on Sif for\n spurning his addresses, cut off her hair while she was asleep;\n but he was compelled by Thor to procure for her a new head of\n hair, made of gold by the dwarfs. Hence gold is often termed by\n the Scalds _Sifs hair_.\n\n =SIGNE=, name of a Danish princess.--See Hagbarth.\n\n =SIGYN=, the wife of Asa-Lok; she alone does not abandon him\n in his adversity; and when he is chained in the subterranean\n cavern, with the enormous serpents hanging over him, she holds\n out a vase to catch the venom they let drop. When the vase is\n filled, she goes out to empty it; the venom of the serpents\n then falling on Lok, causes him to writhe with pain, and this\n movement causes earthquakes.\n\n =SIOFNA=, an Asynia, daughter of Freya; she presides over sleep\n and sends pleasing dreams. Etym.: Icelandic verb _sofna_ (to\n sleep).\n\n =SKADA=, daughter of the giant Thiasse; she comes to Valhalla\n in a fury, to revenge her father\u2019s death, becomes pacified\n at the sight of Balder, and having caught Niord at a game of\n blindman\u2019s-buff, obtains him for a husband; but their tempers\n being very different, she being capricious and violent, and he\n placid and benevolent, they soon quarrel. They cannot agree\n about their place of residence; she wishing to dwell in the\n mountains inland, and he preferring to dwell on the sea-shore.\n Niord says:\n\n \u201cI was tired of the mountains,\n Though I was not long there;\n Only nine nights:\n The howling of the wolf\n Was disagreeable to me\n Accustomed to the chaunt of the swan.\u201d\n\n Skada says:\n\n \u201cI could not sleep\n On the banks of the sea,\n On account of the screaming of birds;\n And the sea-gulls by their cries,\n Disturb my repose every morning.\u201d\n\n As _Skada_ means \u201c_mischief_\u201d in all the Teutonic and\n Scandinavian dialects, (to scathe, in English), the allegory is\n clear: by her union with Niord _she_ represents the mischievous\n qualities of the wind, _he_ the salubrious and beneficent ones.\n\n =SKALDS=, or =SCALDS=; so the poets were called in Scandinavia.\n\n =SKIDBLADNER= or =SKYBLADNER=, name of a ship given to the\n gods by Gerda, on her marriage with Frey. When not required\n for navigation, it could be folded up like a scarf. It seems\n to resemble the Sverga, or ship of heaven, of the Hindoos;\n and they are both probably types of the clouds, for _sky_ is\n \u201ccloud,\u201d and _blad_ a leaf, in the Icelandic tongue.\n\n =SKINFAX=, name of the steed who draws the chariot of day. Its\n meaning is \u201clight-bearer,\u201d the \u03c6\u03c9\u03c3\u03c6\u03bf\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2 of the Greeks.\n\n =SKIRNIR=, name of an Asa, messenger of Frey; he is sent by\n Frey to negotiate his union with Gerda, and by Odin to procure\n a cord to bind the wolf Fenris, both which commissions he\n executes successfully. Etym.: Icelandic verb _skirna_ (to clear\n up).\n\n =SKRYMER=, name of a giant who meets Thor on his journey to\n Utgard and leads him astray. He mystifies him also by giving\n to him a wallet filled with provisions, but which Thor could\n not untie. Etym.: Icelandic word _skrum_ (boasting), from which\n comes the Swedish verb _skrymma_ (to look big).\n\n =SKULDA=, name of the Norna, or destiny of the future. Etym.:\n _skulu_ (shall), in Icelandic.\n\n =SLEIPNER=, name of Odin\u2019s charger. He has eight feet; he\n typifies the wind with its eight principal points.\n\n =SNOTRA=, an Asynia extremely graceful, who inspires mankind\n with elegance of gesture and diction. Etym.: Icelandic verb\n _snotra_ (to teach manners).\n\n =STARKODDER=, name of a celebrated Scandinavian warrior. He\n slew king Oluf in a perfidious manner, but having afterwards\n greatly distinguished himself by a series of brilliant actions,\n he seems to have obliterated his crime, for he was deified\n after his death. He may be considered in some measure as the\n Hercules of the Goths.\n\n =SURTUR=, name of a formidable giant, who, with flames\n collected from Muspelheim, is to set fire to the universe at\n Ragnarok. Etym.: _surtr_ (swarthy in colour).\n\n =SUTTUNG=; Suttung\u2019s mead; see Qvaser.\n\n =SVEA=, =SVITHIOD=, names of Sweden.\n\n =SYN=, name of an Asynia who in this poem figures as the\n porteress of Valhalla, but in the Edda she is porteress of the\n palace of Freya.\n\n =THIASSE=, name of a giant, father of Skada. In the shape of\n an eagle he carries off Asa-Lok, and compels him to join in a\n plot to steal away Iduna from Asagard. When Iduna is delivered,\n Thiasse pursues her in the shape of a griffin, but is burnt to\n death by falling into the bale fire at Breidablik.\n\n =THOR=, an Asa, son of Odin and Frigga, the god of war,\n strength, and thunder. He plays a most prominent part in the\n Gothic mythology. He is the arch enemy of the giants, and is\n constantly employed in punishing crime and oppression and\n protecting the weak and virtuous. His various actions are\n described in this poem, of which he is the principal hero. He\n is the owner of a famous hammer called _Mi\u00f6lner_, and of a no\n less famous belt called _Megingard_; he wears steel gauntlets\n and brazen armour. He travels usually in a golden car, drawn\n by two white goats, _Tanngniostr_ and _Tanngrisner_; when that\n car rolls along the heavens, it causes thunder and lightning.\n The worship of Thor seems to be of very remote antiquity; he\n typifies probably the occult force of nature, which checks the\n blind fury of the elements and brings them back to their proper\n limits. There is no mention of Thor as an historical personage.\n Odin is thought to have introduced the worship of Thor into\n Scandinavia; hence, by mythologic filiation, he is said to\n be Thor\u2019s father; or this relationship may typify _supreme\n force_ proceeding from _supreme wisdom_. Thor defeats and\n puts to flight the giants; thus does thunder disperse noxious\n exhalations and purify the atmosphere. Thor seems to resemble\n the Indra of the Hindoo mythology.\n\n =THRYMUR=, name of a giant who falls in love with Freya. Having\n obtained possession of Thor\u2019s hammer, Mi\u00f6lner, he offers to\n restore it on condition of obtaining the hand of Freya. The\n gods are unwilling to part with Freya, but hit on the expedient\n of sending Thor disguised as Freya, and Asa-Lok as female\n attendant, down to Thrymur\u2019s abode in Jotunheim. As soon as\n Thor obtains his hammer, he throws off his female attire, and\n slays Thrymur and all his followers.\n\n =TIALFE=, or Tialf, name of a young peasant adopted by Thor\n and admitted among the Asar; he accompanies Thor as his\n shield-bearer in all his expeditions. He is brother of Roska.\n\n =TING=, or =THING=; a council is so called in the Scandinavian\n peninsula. This word has the exact meaning of the English\n word \u201cthing,\u201d \u201cbusiness,\u201d etc., and of the Latin \u201cnegotium.\u201d\n _Storting_ means \u201cgrand council,\u201d for _stor_ signifies \u201cgreat\u201d\n in all the Scandinavian dialects.\n\n =TRUDVANG=, or =TRUDVANGUR=, name of the domain of Thor, in\n Asagard.\n\n =TROLD=, in Swedish _Troll_, means an evil demon or goblin\n in the Scandinavian mythology; they were very fantastic and\n grotesque in their appearance. The French word _dr\u00f4le_ (anglic\u00e8\n _droll_) is probably derived therefrom, and was introduced by\n the Norsemen when they conquered Neustria.\n\n =TROLDK\u00c6MPELAND=; the giants\u2019 territory was often so called.\n Etym.: _trold_ (goblin), _k\u00e6mpe_ (warrior), _land_ (land).\n\n =TYR=, an Asa, renowned for his valour, and younger brother to\n Thor. His celebrated adventure with the wolf Fenris, who bites\n off his hand, is related in the 26th canto of this poem. Etym.:\n _tyr_ (brilliant renown).\n\n =ULLER=, name of an Asa who presides over archery and duels.\n\n =URDA=, name of the Norna or destiny of the past. Etym.:\n Icelandic word _urdu_ (was).\n\n =UTGARD= is the name of the territory of the giants. It was\n supposed to be to the north of Midgard, and that mountains\n of ice formed the barrier between the two regions. It\n also signifies the world below, and includes Jotunheim,\n Svartalfheim, Niffelheim, and Nastrond. Etym.: _ut_ signifies\n _exclusion_, anglic\u00e8 _out_, and the etymology of _gard_ has\n been already given as meaning _enclosure_. Utgard-Lok is the\n ruler of Utgard.\n\n =UTGARD-LOK=, see =LOK=.\n\n =VAFTRUDNER=, name of a giant celebrated for his wisdom, who is\n consulted by Odin under the name of Gangr\u00f4d (weary wanderer.)\n Vaftrudner does not, it is true, figure in this poem, but I\n introduce him into my catalogue because I am obliged to quote\n some passages in a chapter of the Edda bearing his name, in\n order to elucidate a passage of \u0152hlenschl\u00e4ger. Etym.: _vafi_\n (eminent), _drutna_ (to be proud).\n\n =VALA=, name of the sibyl or prophetess of the Gothic\n mythology, who foretells the destruction of the world.\n\n =VALASKIALF=, name of the palace of Odin, in Asagard, in which\n he holds his court.\n\n =VALFADER= (father of the choice), name given to Odin when he\n presides at the banquets in Valhalla.\n\n =VALHALLA= (hall of the choice), name of the celebrated\n banqueting hall of Odin, in Valaskialf, and theatre of the\n convivial festivities of the gods and Einherier.\n\n =VALKYRIE=, pl. Valkyrior, name of the celestial virgins who\n attend the fields of battle in order to carry off to Valhalla\n the souls of the heroes who fall. They are mounted on white\n horses, with fiery manes and tails. At the banquets of Valhalla\n they hand round to the guests the mead and ale. The word\n Valkyrie means _chooser of the slain_, because they choose\n from the heaps of slain those who have shown most courage.\n Owing to this belief, the word _val_, which originally meant\n \u201cchoice,\u201d was applied to a field of battle; hence the Danish\n word _valplads_ and the German _wahlplatz_, both signifying\n \u201cfield of battle.\u201d _Kyrie_ comes from the old Teutonic verb\n _k\u00fcren_ (to choose); there is therefore, properly speaking,\n tautology in the word Valkyrie, both the words of which it is\n composed signifying _choice_. By the Valkyrior are thought to\n be typified those meteoric appearances in the heavens, which\n were supposed to forebode wars and tumults.\n\n =VANER=, =VANAHEIM=; mythologically the Vaner were elementary\n divinities, and Vanaheim was supposed to be situated in\n the heavens, above the earth, immediately above Midgard.\n Geographically, Vanaheim, according to Snorro Sturleson, was a\n country lying immediately eastward of the Tanais or Don river;\n but the historical Vaner are represented as a highly civilized\n people, from whom the Asar learnt the arts and sciences and\n all that embellishes life. Now I am yet to learn that the\n inhabitants of the banks of the Don were ever remarkable for\n refined culture; I therefore reject the hypothesis of Snorro\n Sturleson, and adopt that of Finn Magnussen, who thinks that\n by the historical Vaner are meant the Asiatic Greeks or the\n Persians, from whom the Asar or Goths might well learn the arts\n of civilization. Niord was a chief of Vaner race; Niord became\n father of Frey and Freya by his sister. Such a matrimonial\n connection was perfectly lawful among the ancient Persians, and\n is so among their descendants, the Parsis or Guebres, to this\n day. A learned friend of mine, a Portuguese by birth, by name\n Dr. Constancio, much given to the study of philology and the\n Eastern languages, thinks that by the Vaner and the country\n inhabited by them, Vanaheim, may be meant the country bordering\n on the lake Van or Erivan, in Armenia; and this seems extremely\n probable, as the Armenians were a Persian peuplade, highly\n civilized, and professing in days of old the same religion as\n the Guebres. Mythologically, Niord and his son and daughter may\n have been divinities worshipped in Armenia, Persia, and Asiatic\n Greece, and the Asar may have adopted and incorporated that\n worship into their own mythology, just as the Romans and Greeks\n adopted many of the divinities and religious ceremonies of the\n Egyptians. I think I can perceive a strong resemblance between\n Frey and Horus, between Freya and Astarte, and between Niord\n and Nereus.\n\n =VANDHOSE= (water-spout), brother of Skada. Etym.: _vand_\n (water) and _hose_ (trowser) in Danish.\n\n =VAR=, an Asynia, the goddess of truth; she registers the vows\n of mankind and punishes perjury.\n\n =VARDOE=, an island of East Finnmark on the north-eastern\n extremity of Norway, in latitude 75\u00b0 north.\n\n =VAULUNDER= is the Vulcan of the Gothic mythology. Historically\n he was a smith, celebrated for the beauty and excellence of his\n workmanship in metals. He forges weapons and armour for the\n gods.\n\n =VE=, name of the third person in the triad of the Scandinavian\n mythology, and son of Bor.\n\n =VERDANDIS=, or Verandis, name of the Norna or destiny of the\n present. Etym.: _verandi_, participle present of the Icelandic\n verb _vera_ (to be).\n\n =VIDAR=, an Asa, god of wisdom and of silence; he wears thick\n shoes, hence he is often called by the Scalds, \u201cthe god with\n the thick shoes.\u201d He never breaks silence, but his look is\n so penetrating that he discovers the most secret thoughts of\n men. He is to play a most important part at Ragnarok, and will\n slay the wolf Fenris. Vidar alone will survive the general\n conflagration and reconstruct the universe on an imperishable\n basis. Etym.: Icelandic word _vitra_ (wisdom).\n\n =VIL=, one of the sons of Bor, and second person of the\n Scandinavian triad, Odin, Vil, and Ve. Of this triad Sneedorf\n Birch thinks that _Odin_ typifies air or breath; _Vil_, light;\n and _Ve_, warmth. The death of Ymer, therefore, by Odin,\n Vil, and Ve, typifies the annihilation of ice and snow, and\n elicitation of the products of the earth by air, light, and\n warmth.\n\n =VINGOLF=, name of a palace in Asgard, considered as the\n peculiar place of rendezvous of the Asynior or goddesses.\n\n =YGGDRASSIL=, name of the mythologic Ash-tree, called \u201cThe\n tree of the world.\u201d Of this tree it is thus written in the\n prosaic Edda: \u201cThis ash is the first and greatest of all trees,\n which spreads its branches over the whole earth. It springs\n from three roots. Near one of these roots, which pushes the\n trunk and branches towards Asagard, flows the fountain of\n Urda, which contains the water of wisdom, and of which Mimer\n is the guardian. The gods often descend to this spot, to sit\n in judgment on the actions of mankind and of one another. They\n interrogate Urda. The second root of Yggdrassil stretches\n towards the region of the Hrimthusser frost-giants of Utgard.\n The third root extends below, as far as Niffelheim, and is\n continually gnawed by the dragon Nidh\u00f6g.\u201d By this, according\n to Finn Magnussen, is meant the gradual deterioration of\n the world, which will end in its destruction; for the Ash\n Yggdrassil is no other than the symbol of our world. May I be\n permitted to add my conjecture towards the interpretation of\n this mythe: By the first root, which pushes stem and branches\n towards Asagard, may be meant the elevation of our thoughts\n towards heaven. By the second root, extending towards the\n region of the ferocious Hrimthusser, may be meant the tendency\n of our minds to fraud, rapine and violence; and by the third\n root, gnawed by Nidh\u00f6g, the writhings of conscience and of\n envy: the etymology of the word Nidh\u00f6g seems at least to give\n some weight to my conjecture.\n\n Of this tree it is further written in the prosaic Edda: \u201cOn\n the branches of this Ash dwells an Eagle: he knoweth much, and\n between his eyes sits a Hawk, called V\u00e4derfalner. A squirrel,\n called Ratatosk, runs up and down the trunk of the Ash-tree,\n and endeavours to excite discord between the Eagle and the\n Dragon Nidh\u00f6g, who dwells at its root. Four stags spring\n round the Ash-tree, and bite its branches: their names are\n Dainn, Dvalen, Dunneyr, and Durathror.\u201d Among the various\n interpretations given of this mythe, the following, given by\n Grundtvig, seems to me the most happy.\n\n \u201cYggdrassil is the genealogical tree of the human race; its\n triple root denotes the three sorts of men who are to be found\n on earth, viz. Those who cooperate powerfully for a noble\n and eternal object (children of the gods); Those who work\n powerfully, but for an ignoble and temporal object (children\n of giants); and lastly, the idle, useless and powerless,\n relations of Hela. The Eagle denotes the human mind in its\n greatest elevation; the Squirrel denotes the tempter or type of\n temptation, who is in compact with the Dragon. The Hawk denotes\n the spirit of divination or presentiment of the future, which\n agitates the human brain; and the four Stags denote the four\n passions or desires of power, of honour, of wealth, and of\n sensual pleasure.\u201d\n\n =YMER=, name of the giant, the great progenitor of the giant\n race. He was slain by Bor and his sons, as has been already\n related; and from his body the world was constructed, according\n to the following lines in the poetic Edda in the chapter called\n Vaftrudnismal:\n\n From Ymer\u2019s body\n The world was created;\n The mountains from his bones;\n The heavens from the ice-cold giant\u2019s head.\n\n Ymer is evidently the type of the chaos.\n\n As the reader may be curious to know how Ymer propagated his\n race, I quote the following question and answer from the\n Vaftrudnismal. Odin in disguise interrogates, and Vaftrudner\n answers:\n\n Tell me, Vaftrudner!\n How did the giant of old (Ymer)\n Beget children without a giantess?\n\n Answer:\n\n From the arm of the giant,\n According to the tradition,\n A boy and girl sprung together;\n According to others a six-headed son\n Was produced from the feet of the giant.\n\n\n_Additional remarks respecting Valhalla.--The origin of its conception\nand meaning._\n\nFinn Magnussen says in his notes to the Vaftrudnismal, speaking of the\nEinherier and their amusements: \u201cThis account of the amusements of the\nheroes in Valhalla seems, with respect to the ideas of our forefathers\nabout the games suited to warriors, to correspond perfectly with\nXenophon\u2019s relation of the warlike diversions of the Thracians, at a\ngreat banquet in his time. These are his words: \u2018A large round table\nwas prepared; the guests sat round it on benches strewed with leaves,\nand drank out of large drinking-horns. After they had drank in honour\nof the gods, and sung to them hymns of praise, the most distinguished\nThracians rose up, and began to dance and put on their armour, leaped\nup and down, and fought with naked swords. One cut at another, who\nimmediately fell in such a manner, that we all thought he was slain;\nbut it was merely a feigned death in a mimicked fight. Then the\nPaphlagonians gave a great shout. The conquerors stripped the conquered\nof their armour, and chaunted a hymn in honour of Sitalka; but the\nother Thracians bore out the fallen, and stretched them out, as if they\nwere dead, although no mischief had happened.\u2019\u201d\n\n(_Xenophon\u2019s Anabasis_, book VI.)\n\n\u201cAfter that, other warlike spectacles and dances took place, in which\nwomen, who were real Amazons, took part. As such games were the delight\nof the Thracians on the borders of the Black Sea, who were either\nclosely related to the Goths or the same people, so were they also\namong the customs of our forefathers; at least their ideas of the\nglories and delights of Valhalla seem to confirm it.\u201d\n\n\n_Opinion of the Swedish poet Ling respecting Valhalla._\n\nValhalla is the type of _heroic renown_. In all ages and among all\npeople, cowards have been held in abhorrence; for without courage,\nstrength of soul and firm will, nothing noble can be effectuated. He\nwho exposes his own life to save another\u2019s, he who year after year\nendures captivity with fortitude in order to enforce the truth of his\nprinciples, or meets death with courage, in order to save another from\nthat fate, acquires now as formerly our admiration and esteem. He\nwas called by our forefathers Valhalla\u2019s guest; and on that account\nRagnar Lodbrook and Gunnar entertained the hope, while expiring under\nthe fangs of serpents, to be received in Valhalla, because they bore\ntheir sufferings with resignation, equally with those heroes who had\nfallen in battle. But at Ragnarok Valhalla itself will disappear; i.e.\n_heroic renown_ appertains merely to this earthly life, and with it\nmust finally pass away. Goodness alone lives eternally on the peaceable\never-green island which rises from the sea, and on which stands the\npalace of Gimle.\n\nI here annex a translation I made of a chorus in the tragedy of Sigurd\nRing, by the Swedish poet Stagnelius, as it gives a lively picture of\nthe Valkyrior and of their occupations on the field of battle and in\nValhalla.\n\n Aye! such is the Norna\u2019s immutable doom!\n On the earth ever discord shall rage!\n But a banquet eternal in Asagard\u2019s dome,\n All sense of past sufferings assuage:\n See her fiery-maned steed the Valkyrie bestride\n Towards Valhall fresh hosts of Einherier to guide!\n\n O\u2019er the heath, where the warriors in battle array\n Stand glitt\u2019ring in armour, she flies;\n To death first she dooms them, then bears off her prey\n To partake of the bliss of the skies;\n Not a thought doth the haughty one deign to bestow\n On the tear of the bride, on the mother\u2019s deep woe.\n\n Now thickens the combat! now onward they dash\n At the bugle\u2019s sound savage and shrill!\n Bows twang! arrows whiz! lances shiver! glaives clash!\n Unyielding each host struggles still!\n Now blood runs in torrents adown the green mead,\n And the rivers are choked with the limbs of the dead!\n\n On rides the Valkyrie; she knows where to chuse\n The bravest midst thousands of slain;\n She dismounts; bids them rise; then her course she pursues,\n Till she reaches the Asar\u2019s domain;\n With pride she parades them still reeking with gore,\n Still scarr\u2019d with deep gashes, great Odin before.\n\n Her armour now doffing, at Valfader\u2019s feast,\n Crowned with roses, in purple array\u2019d,\n The Valkyrie shines, and presents to each guest\n The goblet high brimming with mead;\n The heroes her graces bewitching behold,\n And Bragur entranced strikes the harp-strings of gold.\n\nWith respect to the proper names, it may be asked why there is\nsometimes a variation in the manner of spelling them; why, for\ninstance, Frey should sometimes be called Freyr; Niord, Niordur;\nHeimdal, Heimdaller; Jormundgard, Jormundgardur. The explanation\nthereof must be traced to the Icelandic language itself. In one of the\ndeclensions many of the masculine nouns, and almost all the proper\nnames masculine, take _er_, _ur_ and _r_ as terminations of the\nnominative case which are omitted in the other cases; and the Danish,\nSwedish and German translators of the Edda have adopted the names\nindifferently without assigning any reason.\n\n\n\n\nTHE GODS OF THE NORTH.\n\n\n\n\nARGUMENT OF THE POEM.\n\n\nThe Asar (Gods), and the Jetter (Giants), represent the two conflicting\npowers of nature; the former represent the _creative embellishing_\npower; the latter the _defacing destructive_ one. Lok[12] vacillates\nbetween both, as the _variable spirit_ of time. He proposes to Thor to\ntravel to Jotunheim (abode of the giants), without the knowledge of\nOdin, in order to punish the arrogance of the giants. Thor is mystified\nin the subterranean world, and obliged to return unsuccessful; but he\nmakes two young people happy, and elevates them to the rank of gods,\nbecause they left their home and parents, and confided themselves\nimplicitly to him. He again forms the resolution of revenging himself\non the giants for their presumption, and endeavours to catch the\nserpent of Midgard. He travels this time with the consent of Odin, and\nwithout Lok. Now he shows himself in the plenitude of his power, and\nis on the point of catching the Serpent, when it is saved by the giant\nHymir. In his disappointment, Thor loses his hammer Mi\u00f6lner.\n\nIn the mean while Lok pays court to Sif, the wife of Thor, but meets\nwith a contemptuous repulse; to revenge himself, he cuts off her hair\nwhile she is asleep. Compelled by Thor and Frey, he procures from the\nDvergar (dwarfs), new hair for Sif spun from gold, a new hammer for\nThor, the steed Gyllinb\u00f6rste for Frey, and the ring Drupner for Odin.\n\nNow it happens shortly after, that Lok sets out on an adventure with\nOdin and H\u0153nir; but he is caught by the giant Thiasse, who compels\nhim to carry off Iduna from Valhalla, which he willingly undertakes,\nin order to mortify the gods. With Iduna vanish health, strength,\nbeauty and youth from Valhalla; the gods lose their power. The Nornor\n(fates), being consulted, announce to them, that \u201cbravery with the\nhelp of love shall compel time to fidelity, and blooming life again\nreturn to Valhalla.\u201d Now Thor compels Lok to bring back Iduna, and\nFreya lends to him her falcon\u2019s wings for that purpose. During Iduna\u2019s\nabsence, Freya has lost her husband Odur, who deserted her, because her\nyouth and beauty had vanished. Skada forces her way into Valhalla, and\nobtains Niord for a husband. Frey, having nothing to do, ascends to\nHlidskialf, which is now no longer brilliant, and where hitherto none\nbut Odin dared to repair. He finds himself punished for his temerity\nby beholding a beautiful mountain-damsel (a rare exception), of whom\nhe becomes violently enamoured. Now Iduna returns to Valhalla, and\nwith her return health, youth and beauty to the gods. The gods are\ndescribed; the joys of Valhalla; the palaces of heaven; the Einherier.\nStarkodder arrives in Valhalla, and is raised to the rank of a god.\nBragur sings a song in honour of Gefion. The love of Frey for Gerda\nbrings to pass a reconciliation between the gods and giants. Skirnir,\nFrey\u2019s messenger, consoles his master, by reminding him of Odin\u2019s own\namours. He travels on his master\u2019s account to the abode of the beloved\ndamsel, overcomes all difficulties, solves the riddles of the giants,\nshows to Gerda the portrait of Frey, and softens her heart. Her father\ngives his consent, on condition that Frey shall cede to him his sword.\nDuring his travels, Skirnir has likewise procured for Odin a chain,\nwherewith to bind the wolf Fenris. On the marriage day of Gerda, the\nwolf is bound, but Tyr loses his hand. In this manner the operative\ninfluence of the giants on the gods is made manifest. The rash Tyr\ndefies the brave Thor; Thor becomes angry, revenges himself on the\ninnocent human race, and repents his anger. The marriage of Gerda\nis celebrated a second time at the palace of \u00c6gir, god of the sea.\nThere Lok, enraged at the captivity of Fenris, and his own expulsion\nfrom the banquet, endeavours to spoil the joy of the meeting, insults\nthe gods, and is compelled to fly. Banished, and weary of wandering\nabout, he again earnestly desires to visit Valhalla, and promises,\nin order to atone for his effrontery, to procure for Thor the true\nhammer Mi\u00f6lner from the giant-king Thrymur. Thrymur consents to restore\nthe hammer, but only on condition of Freya becoming his bride. Lok\nbrings this message to Valhalla, after the Alfer had procured for him\nhis pardon from the Asar. Vexed at the contempt of Thor, and seeing\nthe possibility of doing a treacherous action, he gives way to the\ntemptation, and through the means of Heimdal persuades the Asar to\na stratagem; so that Thor, dressed as Freya, goes down into Utgard.\nWhen Thor is in Utgard, and the hammer Mi\u00f6lner is placed in his lap,\nhe revenges himself by slaying all the giants, except the old ones\nand the children, who remain concealed in the deepest recesses of the\nmountain with Utgard-Lok. Then arises from the vapour of the blood a\nremarkably tall female figure, sent by Alfader. She prophecies the fall\nof Valhalla, the death of Balder, the torments of Lok, the approaching\ndestruction of the universe, and the punishment of the gods for their\ndeceit; which is, that their existence shall for a time pass away, and\nthe whole creation perish by fire. After this, she consoles them with\nthe assurance of a future life, where innocence and bliss are to reign\neternally.\n\n[12] Asa-Lok.\n\n\n\n\nTHE GODS OF THE NORTH.\n\n\nFor all proper names, the reader is requested to consult the\nAlphabetical List preceding this poem. The notes to which the figures\nrefer, are to be found at the end of the poem.\n\n\n\n\nCANTO I.\n\nTHOR SETS OUT ON AN ADVENTURE WITH LOK.\n\n\n A story wonderful to hear\n Recorded stands in ancient runes;\n Now to my golden harp give ear,\n And ponder well its mystic tunes!\n The strange events, which yet remain\n Unravell\u2019d of the Asar bright,\n Be mine the glory to explain,\n And all their actions bring to light.\n\n Th\u2019 eternal wars, the deadly hate\n Between the Gods and Giant race;\n Of Asa-Lok the guile innate;\n Alfader\u2019s wisdom; Freya\u2019s grace;\n The Berserk fights of Thor the bold;\n The joys of Valhall, dome sublime:\n All these I sing: come, young and old!\n And listen to my varied rhyme!\n\n Thus sang in days of yore a Scald,\n And I from him repeat the song:\n A land there is, Trudvanger call\u2019d,\n Where frowns a castle huge and strong:\n This building boasts its massive walls,\n And many a spacious colonnade;\n Its forty and five hundred halls\n With silver or with gold inlaid.\n\n How many forests, lakes and fields\n On every side this pile surround!\n The roof is tiled with copper shields,\n Which shed a dazzling lustre round.\n Therein the mighty Asa dwells,\n Whom mortals term the god of war;\n Odin excepted, he excels\n All other gods: his name is Thor.\n\n Around his waist a belt he wears,\n And gloves of steel his hands protect;\n Mi\u00f6lner, a hammer vast, he bears,\n When in the fight he stands erect.\n That belt a tenfold power doth give,\n When round his loins he girds it tight;\n Nor doth the foe remain alive,\n On whom his hammer haps to light.\n\n Late vanquish\u2019d by the Asar brave,\n Excluded from the solar ray,\n Bound in the mountain\u2019s deepest cave,\n In fetters Lok of Utgard lay.\n But vain the giant monarch\u2019s doom,\n Naught can his stubborn hate control;\n Here in the midst of cold and gloom\n Fresh thoughts of vengeance fire his soul.\n\n Like singed threads his chains he rends,\n Bursts through the surface of the earth,\n To Upsala his course he bends,\n Of Northern gods the sacred hearth;\n He there extinguishes the fire,\n And shakes to dust the temple\u2019s walls.[13]\n This deed excites great Odin\u2019s ire;\n To council he the Asar calls.\n\n Each at the council board, I ween,\n Gave the advice that seem\u2019d him fit:\n But Thor with hand beneath his chin\n Lost in reflection seem\u2019d to sit.\n Much did the hero muse and scan,\n How best to punish Loki\u2019s crime,\n And by some well-concerted plan\n To crush the Lord of Jotunheim.\n\n To rove in search of glorious war\n This Asa chief finds much delight,\n High seated in his golden car\n Drawn by two goats of colour white.\n Earth well may tremble with dismay,\n When through the skies this chariot rolls,\n For clouds then veil the face of day,\n And awful thunders shake the poles.\n\n But \u2019mongst the Asar one call\u2019d Lok\n Holds rank, nor undeserved the name;\n For much he joys with spiteful mock\n To lacerate his neighbours\u2019 fame.\n Howe\u2019er he shine in outward grace,\n Hollow and false is all within:\n Before the Ash[14] he oft must pass\n In penance for his various sin.\n\n With scorpion wit and envious tongue\n Though oft he gives the Asar pain,\n Still his arch jests and gibing song\n Compel them strait to laugh again:\n His features fair are own\u2019d by all,\n But all his mind perverse deplore;\n He takes his seat in Odin\u2019s hall\n Upon the bench next Asa-Thor.\n\n The Nymphs[15], that Valhall\u2019s dome adorn,\n With breast of lily, cheek of pink,\n To all th\u2019 Einherier in their turn\n Now bear around th\u2019 immortal drink.\n The largest horn high-fill\u2019d with mead\n Was drain\u2019d by Thor the chieftain bold:\n And then to seek his goats he sped,\n And yoke them to his car of gold.\n\n He grasps his hammer, mounts his car,\n And bids Lok place him by his side;\n The thunders roar, the lightnings glare,\n As down the vault of heaven they glide!\n Heimdaller views them roll along,\n And greets with trumpet loud and shrill:\n The seven virgins[16] tune their song,\n And Thor salute with gracious smile.\n\n Then Lok on fraud and guile intent,\n Thus Thor address\u2019d: \u201cMethinks, \u2019tis time\n Our bitter foes to circumvent,\n And quell the powers of Jotunheim;\n Thou mayst defy the force of fire,\n And laugh to scorn the earthquake\u2019s shock;\n Feelest thou not a strong desire\n For once to visit Utgard Lok?\u201d\n\n Then Thor: \u201cMy corslet braves the steel;\n My helm unbruised in fight remains:\n And, be he dwarf or giant fell,\n Whom Mi\u00f6lner strikes, it ends his pains.\u201d\n Now to the earth they swift descend;\n The birds sing gaily in the wood,\n And every flower its head doth bend,\n Owning the presence of a god.\n\n The sun now sinks beneath the main,\n The night obscures its parting rays;\n Rolling athwart the starry plain,\n The moon its silver disk displays:\n Two funeral mounds appear in sight:\n Then first the eyes of Asa Thor\n Glisten\u2019d in triumph. Late at night\n They stand a peasant\u2019s hut before.\n\n They ask for shelter; lowly bows\n The peasant, and replies: \u201cMy lords!\n You\u2019re welcome here to seek repose;\n But little else my roof affords.\u201d\n They needs must stoop to enter through\n The cottage door; and there they found\n The peasant\u2019s wife and daughter too\n Sitting the lowly hearth around.\n\n The daughter was a graceful maid\n With azure eyes and golden hair.\n They rose; and thus the matron said:\n \u201cAlas! but meagre is our fare:\n Mere roots and herbs our meal supply;\n No flesh invigorates our blood.\u201d\n \u201cFear not! This night shall be no lack of food.\u201d\n\n See now the giant-queller raise\n His hammer! lo! his goats he slew!\n Such was his custom: with amaze,\n Yet not displeased this act to view,\n The old dame stared; then rushed in haste\n Upon the board to spread the cloth;\n While Lok, as cook, prepared to baste\n The meat, and mix the savoury broth.\n\n A wondrous fact I now reveal:\n Thor drives these goats around the earth,\n And slays them for his nightly meal,\n When no provisions cheer the hearth.\n This done, their skins and bones he takes,\n And casts them in a corner strait:\n And lo! those goats, when he awakes,\n Again stand living at the gate.\n\n See from the wood the peasant\u2019s son\n Laden with faggots now appear!\n He piles them on the hearth: anon\n The smoking steaks the trav\u2019llers cheer:\n No dish had they; Thor\u2019s buckler broad\n This want supplied: and now they feed\n With hearty zest, while the goats\u2019 blood\n Furnish\u2019d to all delicious mead.\n\n No sooner was the supper past,\n Thor rose observant of his rite;\n The bones within the skins he cast;\n This did not \u2019scape the urchin\u2019s sight:\n His liquorish tooth would fain partake\n Of daintier food than met the eye;\n So unperceived a bone he brake,\n And suck\u2019d the marrow greedily.\n\n The morning dawn\u2019d: with choral strain\n The feather\u2019d songsters fill the skies:\n The sun ascends: the travellers twain\n From slumbers light refresh\u2019d arise.\n To war and bold adventure prone,\n Each buckles on his armour strait,\n And whets his weapon on the stone,\n That stands without the cottage gate.\n\n As in the car the Asar sprung,\n The urchin\u2019s trick was manifest;\n One goat limp\u2019d heavily along,\n As if with lameness sore oppress\u2019d.[17]\n Thor was enraged; his colour fled;\n He bit his lips; his eyes flash\u2019d fire;\n Well might the wretched peasant dread\n For wife and child the chieftain\u2019s ire.\n\n But more so, when he saw the chief\n Brandish on high his hammer vast:\n The danger threaten\u2019d, no relief\n At hand; with fear he stood aghast:\n Then, kneeling down, he humbly sued\n Forgiveness for the stripling\u2019s guile,\n Offering all he had: the God\n At such an offer well might smile.\n\n Relenting at the peasant\u2019s prayer,\n And pitying his extreme distress,\n He bade him rise with friendly air,\n And gave his hand in pledge of peace.\n \u201cIf to my care thou wilt confide\n Those children stout,\u201d said Asa-Thor,\n \u201cI will for all their wants provide,\n And teach them both the art of war.\u201d\n\n Pleased to escape with a whole skin,\n This offer glad the swain embraced:\n Lok gave to each a javelin,\n And strait their limbs in armour laced:\n Their glist\u2019ning eyes the joy reveal\n Of Tialfe bold, and Roska bright:\n To serve the God how proud they feel,\n And court the perils of the fight.\n\n The Lord of Trudvang now design\u2019d\n On foot to seek the giant\u2019s lair:\n His car and goats he left behind,\n Confided to the peasant\u2019s care.\n Impatient of delay, he fain\n Would march direct to Jotunheim.\n They journey on o\u2019er many a plain,\n And rivers cross, and mountains climb.\n\n And now can I assert with truth,\n Tialfe became a warrior good;\n No son of earth could e\u2019er this youth\n Surpass in zeal and fortitude:\n His strength by Thor was duly prized,\n As gay he trudg\u2019d across the field,\n And on his brawny shoulders poised\n The heavy bag with viands fill\u2019d.\n\n E\u2019en Freya\u2019s self could scarce excel\n Young Roska for her shape and air;\n Her bosom now is cased in steel,\n A golden helmet crowns her hair.\n Thor towers aloft in plates of brass,\n With Mi\u00f6lner in his right hand gleaming:\n Lok trips along in light cuirass,\n His dark locks o\u2019er his shoulders streaming.\n\n Now marching on, the tedious way\n They oft beguile with gay discourse;\n Sudden a wild tempestuous sea\n Appears in sight, and checks their course!\n The roaring billows reckless roll\u2019d\n White foaming \u2019gainst the marble steep!\n And Rana\u2019s voice was heard to scold\n With frightful scream from out the deep!\n\n The mighty monarch, \u00c6gir hight,\n Consort of Ran, o\u2019er ocean reigns:\n Beneath a roof of pearl so bright\n He sits, and stern his right maintains;\n With diamond-pointed pole the wave\n He guides; a silver helmet, starr\u2019d\n With coral, decks his temples grave,\n And sea-weed forms his shaggy beard.\n\n On Hlesey you may find his throne\n Of muscle-shell: this monarch sage\n Can by a frown or wink alone\n The billows\u2019 utmost wrath assuage.\n \u2019Twixt him and Niord a pact holds good,[18]\n And when Niord rides across the deep,\n On coal-black courser mounted proud,\n The winds are hush\u2019d, the billows sleep.\n\n Lok now with terror stood appall\u2019d;\n This did not \u2019scape Thor\u2019s eye severe.\n \u201cHa!\u201d to his comrade stern he call\u2019d:\n \u201cLet not thy courage fail thee here!\n Take heart! take heart! if thus we shrink\n At th\u2019 onset of our enterprize,\n What shame! what scandal! think! oh think!\n Thou didst thyself this plan devise.\u201d\n\n Thus said, into the foaming sea\n He plunged, and bade them follow strait:\n No more delay; they all obey;\n And spite of helm and corslet\u2019s weight\n With nervous arm they stem the brine;\n With fear no more their bosoms quail:\n They heed not now the mermaid\u2019s whine,\n And laugh to scorn the snorting whale.\n\n On, on they swim with hope elate,\n In spite of warring wave and wind;\n And though the waves high o\u2019er them beat,\n Full many a mile they leave behind.\n At length the lightning\u2019s vivid flash\n By fits reveals a glimpse of land;\n And breakers, that around them dash,\n Give hopes to gain the adverse strand.\n\n How wondrous is thy strength, O Thor!\n Encouraged by th\u2019 example set\n Of that brave chief, they reach the shore,\n And land in garments dripping wet.\n The moon, emerging from a cloud,\n A wild and barren heath displays:\n They droop, but Thor cries out aloud:\n \u201cNow, by yon moon\u2019s benignant rays,\n\n \u201cWe may some dwelling find at last;\n Let us inland our course pursue!\u201d\n O\u2019er sand and ice they struggle fast,\n While cold and bleak the north-wind blew.\n Roska at length, with marching spent,\n Implored her fellow-trav\u2019llers\u2019 aid;\n Lok carried now the damsel faint,\n Lok ever lov\u2019d a beauteous maid.\n\n Now burst the clouds with thunder riven,\n And dark as pitch the sky became,\n Save when athwart the vault of heaven\n A meteor lanced a transient flame!\n The rain in torrents now descending,\n Struck terror in each trav\u2019ller\u2019s breast;\n E\u2019en Thor himself, that chief unbending,\n Could scarce his mind of fear divest.\n\n He girds his belt around him tight:\n \u201cHere Lok of Utgard\u2019s juggling play\n Hath ample scope the heroes bright\n Of Asagard to lead astray.\n But short shall the fiend\u2019s triumph be;\n His insolence will I chastise,\n And teach him low to bend the knee\n Before the rulers of the skies!\u201d\n\n Thus Thor. At length a hut they find;\n They enter; it may serve them well\n For shelter from the piercing wind\n And rain, that still in torrents fell.\n But such a hut was never seen;[19]\n Open remain\u2019d one side entire;\n \u2019T was one vast door; the chiefs, I ween,\n This entrance strange did much admire.\n\n They loose their wallet now to seek\n Their food, by hunger gaunt compell\u2019d;\n Poor Roska, with a pallid cheek,\n Sat in a corner, half congeal\u2019d.\n Two legs of goat they soon consumed,\n Then laid them down to seek repose;\n But Thor alone the watch assumed,\n His thoughts forbid his eyes to close.\n\n His cheek upon his palm reclines;\n He sits beside the spacious door;\n Secure of Mi\u00f6lner, he designs\n Destruction to the giant\u2019s power.\n This gives him comfort and delight;\n What glory will to him accrue!\n How oft during the long, long night,\n He grasps with pride his weapon true!\n\n\n\n\nCANTO II.\n\nSPELLS UPON THE HEATH.\n\n\n As Thor now sat with watchful ear,\n In pensiveness profound,\n A startling din he chanced to hear,\n \u2019Twas like the earthquake\u2019s sound.\n All nature shook; the billows\u2019 roar\n By this was deafen\u2019d quite:\n Thor grasp\u2019d his hammer, nor forbore\n His belt to fasten tight.\n\n Now starting up, the Asa spake\n Aloud with accent shrill:\n \u201cWho is it dares this noise to make,\n When Hlorrida lies still?\u201d\n His choler he could scarce restrain,\n He fain would kill and slay;\n And much it gave the hero pain\n No foe stood in his way.\n\n A comet now with awful sweep\n Shot through the sky blood-red,\n And, stretch\u2019d out on the earth asleep,\n A Jotun vast display\u2019d!\n His snoring made the mountains shake,\n So frightful was the sound;\n He seem\u2019d as long as the boa snake\n On Java\u2019s swampy ground.\n\n When Thor\u2019s eye to the spot was turn\u2019d,\n He saw the giant move,\n And on the goblin\u2019s skull he burn\u2019d\n His hammer\u2019s strength to prove.\n Of this the giant seem\u2019d aware,\n He started up in haste:\n The sight all mortal eyes would scare,\n Of such dimensions vast.\n\n He view\u2019d his foes with fearful scowl,\n He shook his shoulders broad;\n His voice was like the ice-bear\u2019s growl,\n Vex\u2019d by the hunter\u2019s goad;\n Each of his nerves like brass was strong,\n And hard and tough his skin;\n He bore a pole of iron long,\n Instead of javelin.\n\n Now Thor to scrutinize his foe\n With cautious look began;\n Then burst he forth: \u201cSay, who art thou,\n Thou strange, wild-looking man?\u201d\n Then he: \u201cFrom Goblin-land[20] I come,\n All weapons\u2019 force I mock,\n For who shall Skrymur overcome,\n Who serves great Utgard-Lok?\n\n \u201cThy name I ask not, and though now\n I first behold thy face,\n The features of our bitt\u2019rest foe\n In thine, methinks, I trace.\n And though the Asar with applause\n Thy merits loud proclaim,\n We giants spurn their boasted laws,\n And laugh to scorn their fame.\n\n \u201cThe trifling noise my snoring made\n Hath caused thee much alarm;\n With helm and plume upon thy head\n Thou canst not reach my arm.\n Upon my palm I\u2019d hold thee high\n All in thy armour dress\u2019d;\n Yet of our Jotun race am I\n The weakest and the least.\u201d\n\n He gazed around on every side,\n His eye-balls fiercely glared:\n \u201cWhere is my glove? (he gruffly cried,)\n To steal it who hath dared?\u201d\n At length a horse-laugh wild and fierce\n Announced the giant\u2019s mirth;\n He laugh\u2019d to see Thor\u2019s followers\n From out the hut come forth.\n\n The giant now to feel the ground\n Stoop\u2019d down with knitted brow;\n He stoop\u2019d again, and groped around:\n \u201cMy glove, where is it now?\u201d\n His helm\u2019s bright horse-hair waved sublime,\n Like fir-crown\u2019d mountain\u2019s top:\n He stoop\u2019d once more; and lo! this time\n He took the cottage up!\n\n Then first our travellers perceiv\u2019d\n By th\u2019 morning dawn full well,\n That, what a cottage they believ\u2019d,\n Was a vast glove of steel.[21]\n Upon his hand the giant drew\n The glove; it fitted tight;\n At once it fill\u2019d the champions true\n With wonder and affright.\n\n But Thor exclaim\u2019d: \u201cCheer up, my friends!\n Believe me! strength or skill\n Never on size alone depends;\n The wolf an ox can kill.\n For me, with this foul fiend to cope\n Quite resolute I stand:\n Shame were it, should an Asa droop\n With Mi\u00f6lner in his hand.\u201d\n\n Now this discourse the giant fear\u2019d;\n He lean\u2019d against his spear.\n \u201cWhat urgeth Thor of Asagard\n To quit his brilliant sphere?\n What moves the mighty God of war\n To tread this barren strand?\n Why is he come without his car\n To our dark Goblin-land?\u201d\n\n Then thus replied with accent grum\n The god to heroes dear:\n \u201cEnough! it pleas\u2019d me here to come,\n And, therefore, I am here.\n \u2019Bout Lok thy swarthy king things strange\n I\u2019ve heard, and now I go\n My thoughts with him to interchange\n In Utgard\u2019s realm below.\n\n \u201cI long to view that Chief of fame,\n And tarry there awhile;\n For naught I fear his arms of flame,\n Nor e\u2019en his magic guile:\n The giants long have learn\u2019d to quake,\n When Asa-Thor drew near.\u201d\n Tialfe and Roska, as he spake,\n Now smiled, devoid of fear.\n\n The giant now with bitter sneer\n Thus boisterously replies:\n \u201cI warn thee not to persevere\n In this rash enterprize:\n Athwart the iron staves so high,\n That Utgard\u2019s realm surround,\n No Asa with impunity\n His entrance e\u2019er hath found.\n\n \u201cRestrain thy course, thou Asa pale!\n Nor seek our realm to view!\n For there thy strength will naught avail;\n Thy rashness thou mayst rue:\n As friend, I know, thou comest not,\n But shouldst thou entrance gain,\n Defeat and shame will be thy lot,\n And hope of flight is vain.\n\n \u201cGo back, I say! once more return\n To thy star-lighted dome!\n Midst wilds of bramble, brake and thorn,\n What boots it here to roam?\n A desert drear, where howls the storm,\n A sea, where billows roar,\n Between the gods and giants form\n The bound\u2019ry ever more.\n\n \u201cIn warlike games and banquets gay\n The Asar pass their time,\n Warm\u2019d by the sun\u2019s eternal ray\n In Asagard sublime:\n A royal life of bliss and power\n The Nornor them have given;\n And mortals fervent still adore\n The denizens of heaven.\n\n \u201cBut for the swarthy giant brood\n Far different is the lot:\n They wax in strength and hardihood\n I\u2019 th\u2019 mountain\u2019s deepest grot.\n Earth\u2019s sons to us no honour pay;\n They venture not to tread\n Those dreary wastes, where we hold sway;\n They fly from us with dread.\n\n \u201cDarkness our realm for aye conceals\n From earth\u2019s light-favour\u2019d sphere:\n No fires, but what the flint reveals,\n Our gloomy caverns cheer:\n The Asar\u2019s glory \u2019tis to found\n Creation, order, life:\n But we delight to spread around\n Destruction, ruin, strife.\u201d\n\n Now Thor was stagger\u2019d, and anon\n With Mi\u00f6lner struck his shield.\n \u201cThou bitter fiend! thou evil One,\n \u2019Gainst sense and feeling steel\u2019d!\n My hammer cannot here, of course,\n Attain thy lofty brow;\n But thou shouldst feel my lightning\u2019s force,\n Were in Trudvang now.\n\n \u201cDo Utgard\u2019s champions dare to hold\n To Thor such language proud?\n Foul pismire thou in earth\u2019s black mould!\n Vile slug with torpid blood!\n Thinkst thou to damp my courage high,\n Because thou tower\u2019st above\n These brambles? I thy arms defy;\n Thy arts my pity move.\n\n \u201cI tell ye plain, ye giant brood!\n Were ye in number more\n Than snakes in Nastrond\u2019s marshy flood,\n Or sands on the sea-shore,\n I\u2019d brave ye all; for none alive\n Would Thor the combat shun;\n To me what pleasure would it give\n To slay ye every one!\n\n \u201cNot only valour stout in war,\n But wit, and skill, and grace\n Our Asar boast; and think ye, Thor\n Cannot your Lok surpass?\n Your frightful teeth may terrify\n The children of mankind:\n Thor\u2019s frown alone would make ye fly,\n Like chaff before the wind.\n\n \u201cAlfader hath of old consign\u2019d ye\n To realms of damp and shade;\n In caverns deep, \u2019tis there we find ye\n In treach\u2019rous ambuscade;\n Night only gives ye courage; then\n Ye quit your lurking place,\n And with huge clubs and frightful din\n The works of man deface.\n\n \u201cWhen the poor trav\u2019ller seeks his home,\n Ye lead him far astray;\n With murderers and wolves ye roam,\n And guide them to their prey:\n Ye feast on human hearts; their blood\n Ye drink with savage joy;\n And all that\u2019s useful, great, and good,\n Your lust is to destroy.\n\n \u201cBut tremble! think! the day will come,\n When you shall perish all:\n The Nornor have decreed your doom;\n By our hand shall ye fall:\n Your limbs shall be consumed by fire;\n The mountains be your grave:\n Let no one hope Alfader\u2019s ire\n Unpunish\u2019d long to brave!\n\n \u201cIn torrents shall your life\u2019s blood flow;\n The dwarfs, although they be\n Your kinsmen, towards your overthrow\n Shall lend their industry:\n For us the sons of light \u2019tis they\n That forge the weapons good,\n And those same weapons shall one day\n Be colour\u2019d with your blood.\n\n \u201cBehold this hammer! from its blow\n The tide of death bursts forth:\n \u2019Twas a dwarf\u2019s gift; this girdle too!\n I\u2019ve prov\u2019d, methinks, its worth.\u201d\n Thus said, the hero brandish\u2019d high\n His Mi\u00f6lner; at the sight\n The giant cow\u2019ring made reply:\n \u201cI question not thy might:\n\n \u201cLet us be friends, thou Asa good!\n To Utgard straight I\u2019ll guide thee;\n And every night with choicest food\n For supper I\u2019ll provide thee:\n And Utgard-Lok will much rejoice,\n Such is my fond belief.\n Himself to see and hear the voice\n Of such a glorious chief.\u201d\n\n Silent they moved along the strand,\n While Skrymur march\u2019d before,\n Bearing a wallet in his hand:\n E\u2019en Roska fear\u2019d no more.\n The farther they advanc\u2019d, the road\n Less difficult became.\n Thor\u2019s anger vanish\u2019d; on they strode;\n With joy their faces beam.\n\n They cross\u2019d a plain at close of day;\n On th\u2019 borders of a wood\n Arrived, quoth Skrymur: \u201cHere we may,\n Methinks, take rest and food.\n Let us this night no further go,\n Repose we all do need:\n And, when at morn the cock\u2019s shrill crow\n Awakes us, we\u2019ll proceed.\u201d\n\n His heavy wallet down he flings,\n Then adds with meaning sly:\n \u201cBe cautious not to spoil the strings,\n When you this bag untie!\n In it, believe me, thou wilt find\n A supper, better far\n Than what, O Thor, thy consort kind,\n Sif, could herself prepare.\u201d\n\n And now under the green-wood tree\n The giant went to sleep,\n While shelter\u2019d by the forest\u2019s lee\n The rest their vigils keep:\n For they would fain, by hunger press\u2019d,\n Of the good cheer partake\n The bag contain\u2019d; and oft they bless\u2019d\n The donor for its sake.\n\n At length said Thor: \u201cWe must, my friends!\n Our work with caution ply:\n Since Skrymur caution recommends,\n When we this bag untie.\n Methinks, \u2019twere better to confide\n To Roska\u2019s hand this toil:\n Her fingers soft will best avoid\n His precious bag to spoil.\u201d\n\n Now with good will fair Roska took\n The wallet on her knee;\n And while the task she undertook,\n Sat down beneath a tree.\n The wallet to unbind with care\n Much did the damsel strain;\n The knots so closely twisted were,\n \u2019Twas labour all in vain.\n\n Then Thor from his moss-cover\u2019d seat\n To Tialfe said: \u201cTry thou!\n For supperless thou wouldst regret\n To go to sleep, I know.\u201d\n Now with the wallet on his thigh\n Young Tialfe sat him down,\n But vain his active fingers ply;\n He gives it up full soon.\n\n \u201cI cannot by soft means,\u201d he cried,\n \u201cThese close-tied knots undo;\n Force must be used.\u201d \u201cNay!\u201d Thor replied,\n \u201cYe all have heard my vow\n The Giant\u2019s wallet not to spoil;\n But since our food we need,\n Go, Lok! try thou the arduous toil!\n Thou mayst perhaps succeed.\n\n \u201cFor what to man remains unknown,\n Thou often canst divine;\n Doubtless, thy hand, Laufeia\u2019s son!\n Will these hard knots untwine.\u201d\n Lok took the wallet up, and strove\n Dextrous the knots to loose;\n But vain his skill and efforts prove\n Against the mystic noose.\n\n Thor smiled; he rose, and seiz\u2019d the bag,\n By hunger gaunt impell\u2019d;\n Yet soon his strenuous efforts flag:\n Lo! Thor himself hath fail\u2019d!\n The God in wrath took up at length\n His sword, the knots to cut;\n In vain he cut with all his strength;\n The wallet open\u2019d not.\n\n With both his hands in fury now\n He lifts his hammer fell:\n \u201cThe fiend has juggled us, I trow,\n With some accursed spell.\n To punish him be mine the task,\n And Mi\u00f6lner will, I trust,\n Athwart the Goblin\u2019s broken casque\n Its shaft with brains incrust.\u201d\n\n With this, upon the giant\u2019s head\n He dealt a pond\u2019rous blow:\n The giant oped his eyes, and said:\n \u201cWhat hath disturb\u2019d me so?\n Upon my cheek hath fall\u2019n some leaf,\n As fast asleep I lay;\n But where\u2019s my wallet, mighty chief?\n Hast thou untied it, pray?\u201d\n\n Now red with anger Thor became:\n \u201cThou bitter fiend! this night\n (He murmur\u2019d, while his eyes shot flame)\n Shall death thy fraud requite.\u201d\n Once more to sleep the giant rude\n Address\u2019d himself; his snoring\n Deafen\u2019d the monsters of the wood\n In awful concert roaring.\n\n Now Thor, much vexed, a second blow\n With force redoubled gives:\n His eyes roll fearful to and fro:\n \u201cWhat? still the Goblin lives?\u201d\n At length with rage and fury spent,\n He throws his Mi\u00f6lner down:\n But to the nib the hammer went\n Into the giant\u2019s crown.\n\n The giant woke: his mouth he screw\u2019d;\n \u201cI now perceive full well,\n While I was sleeping in the wood,\n An acorn on me fell.\n But where\u2019s my wallet? comrades dear!\n Have ye the knots untwined?\n And did ye not delicious cheer\n In my good wallet find?\u201d\n\n The giant turn\u2019d again to sleep\n All on the mossy ground;\n While Thor with thoughts of vengeance deep\n His belt fast round him bound:\n He raised his powerful voice aloud\n To Odin\u2019s throne on high;\n The very beasts that haunt the wood\n Were frighten\u2019d at his cry.\n\n His eyes flash\u2019d fire; a crash was heard!\n He struck with might and main!\n But lo! the giant\u2019s temples hard\n Unscathed still remain!\n \u201cHow now? what\u2019s this? upon my brow\n A branch hath fall\u2019n, I find:\n But where\u2019s my wallet? tell me now!\n Have ye the knots untwined?\u201d[22]\n\n Shaking his limbs, the giant vast\n Slow from the grass rose up;\n The sun, emerging from the east,\n Now gilds the forest\u2019s top.\n \u201cMethinks,\u201d said he, \u201cO chief divine!\n Our course we should pursue,\n If still it be your firm design\n Great Utgard Lok to view.\u201d\n\n The giant now with shield and spear\n Moved on, and led the way:\n Close in his wake the others steer\n Their course, all blithe and gay.\n But lo! the tall cloud-threatening towers,\n Though distant, meet their eyes,\n Where dwell the fierce gigantic powers,\n Who gods and men despise!\n\n \u2019Tis Utgard! rocks piled upon rocks\n Compose its ramparts vast!\n And see what massive bolts and locks\n Its portals huge make fast!\n Enormous bars of iron, long\n As mast of admiral,\n Form palisades with sharpen\u2019d prong,\n Which stoutest hearts appal.\n\n \u201cBehold our city!\u201d Skrymur cried,\n \u201cIts towers impregnable!\n Its stony bastions stretching wide!\n Its palisades of steel!\n Yet fear thou naught! accept this pike!\n Thou needst but once the gate\n With its enchanted point to strike,\n And lo! \u2019twill open strait.\n\n \u201cAnd now farewell! I must begone,\n And leave ye here behind:\n To guide ye safe to Lok\u2019s proud throne\n Giants enow ye\u2019ll find:\n Take heart! with a firm step advance!\n Valour ye do not lack;\n With such a hammer, sword and lance,\n Ye need fear no attack.\u201d\n\n Thus said, he grasp\u2019d his wallet fast,\n And bound it to his spear;\n Then strode on to the mountains vast,\n Which towards the north[23] appear,\n And soon he vanish\u2019d from their view\n The winding rocks among;\n While Thor with his companions true\n \u2019Gainst Utgard march\u2019d along.\n\n\n\n\nCANTO III.\n\nTHOR IN HELHEIM.\n\n\n The story you\u2019re about to hear\n May well incredible appear:\n To visit the remotest end\n Of Utgard\u2019s realm the chiefs pretend:\n Not easy will this project prove\n Through wastes of endless frost and snow;\n At each third step they onward move\n O\u2019er the glazed frost, they fall back two.\n\n The road, on which their course they bent,\n Now form\u2019d a deep and dark descent:\n They grope along through ice and snow,\n And though pitch dark, they hear cocks crow.\n Thor ever foremost marches on;\n The others follow the faint light\n That from his brazen armour shone,\n And shudder oft from cold and fright.\n\n Through caverns drear they move on slow,\n Which seem to lengthen as they go;\n Pale shadows flit along; they hear\n The rustling sound of waters near:\n Now toads croak harsh, and owlets screech;\n Now fogs arise, and vapours damp;\n But Thor, intent his goal to reach,\n Struggles across the frozen swamp.\n\n At length the gloomy fogs of night\n Became dispell\u2019d by sudden light;\n Though faint, it fail\u2019d not to impart\n Fresh vigour to the Asa\u2019s heart.\n Two torches burning blue anon\n A lurid flick\u2019ring gleam display;\n While through the cloven rock the moon\n Sends forth a pale and wizard ray.\n\n At length a massive gate they reach:\n Two grisly fantoms there kept watch:\n One seem\u2019d a female, one a male;\n Their furrow\u2019d cheeks were deadly pale.\n Lo! slowly rising from their seat,\n They fix the chiefs with earnest gaze;\n These halt before the pond\u2019rous gate,\n And view those forms in mute amaze.\n\n In shrouds of white the spectres grim,\n While ague shakes each gelid limb,\n Brandish aloft with angry groan\n Their javelins form\u2019d of human bone.\n As Thor advanc\u2019d, their shields they clash,\n And croak aloud these words of fear:\n \u201cGo back! go back! ye strangers rash!\n Whence do ye come! what seek ye here?\n\n \u201cWhy seek ye in the pride and bloom\n Of health and youth these realms of gloom?\n Never did such a troop before\n Find entrance to this fated shore.\n For those who meanly die on straw,\n The Nornor have these shades decreed;\n But not for those, who Odin\u2019s law\n Hold sacred, and in battle bleed.\n\n \u201cYe may not tread this threshold fell,\n Bound fast by adamantine spell:\n \u2019Tis here a pale-blue female reigns,\n Here stern her fearful law maintains:\n Here captive holds the dastard crew,\n Who on the bed of sickness die,\n Who wounds and glorious death eschew,\n And basely from the combat fly.\u201d\n\n Then Thor: \u201cWe\u2019ve reach\u2019d th\u2019 abode, I ween,\n Of Hela, unforgiving queen;\n O Lok! we now shall soon behold\n Thy pale-blue daughter stern and cold.\u201d\n Then Lok grew pale, and trembling said:\n \u201cLet us return! I bitter rue\n My grievous fault: O! how I dread\n My frightful offspring\u2019s face to view!\u201d\n\n Then Thor replied with look severe:\n \u201cA God should never yield to fear;\n Shame! resolution thus to lack!\n Rouse all thy nerve, and shrink not back!\n A giantess[24] thy heart subdued,\n And thou to passion didst succumb,\n Too well I know, that nothing good\n Can from the blood of giants come.\n\n \u201c\u2019Twas Skulda in her book of fate\n Did this event predestinate;\n If she decreed thy amorous flame,\n Who shall that prudent Norna blame?\n Thy offspring causes fear, \u2019tis true,\n But never can contempt excite;\n Not only men, but Asar too,\n All view her features with affright.\n\n \u201cWhere joy and pleasure flourish most\n And nurs\u2019d by strength their empire boast,\n Yet still, at the bare sight of fear\n Those blessings straight will disappear;\n Thus Fenris can embitter all\n The glories of Valhalla\u2019s feast;\n His very look hath power t\u2019appal,\n And freeze with dread great Odin\u2019s breast.\n\n \u201cAnd say! how should our Asgard then\n Differ from the abode of men,\n Did not death, misery and disgrace\n A line of demarcation trace?\n Like Midgard\u2019s snake,[25] misfortune fell\n Winds round, and gnaws the heart of earth;\n And he too, Lok, thou know\u2019st full well,\n From thy embrace derived his birth.\n\n \u201cYet, O thou Asa dear! \u2019tis well\n Thou hast engender\u2019d the grim Hel!\n Due honour she should ever find;\n She punishes the Nidding kind,\n She my avenger is; \u2019tis she\n Who best upholds my law and right;\n Take courage, therefore! learn from me\n Never to think of craven flight!\u201d\n\n This sage discourse now caus\u2019d the fear\n Of Asa Lok to disappear;\n To him much consolation gave\n The prudence of his comrade brave.\n Thor rais\u2019d his lance; the portal vast\n He struck with force; it swung around,\n Like leaf before th\u2019 autumnal blast;\n The hinges creak\u2019d with jarring sound.\n\n Now Thor his champions onward led,\n The vault re-echo\u2019d with their tread;\n Now little Roska \u2019gan to cower,\n And closely grasp\u2019d the hand of Thor.\n Through many a winding gall\u2019ry past,\n They stumble on, or creep, or glide,\n Until a flick\u2019ring flame at last\n Serves their ambiguous path to guide.\n\n At length an opening towards the north\n They find, and \u2019gainst it struggle forth;\n To where the roof describes an arch,\n And forms a vestibule, they march;\n This vestibule to a vast hall\n Conducts them, where they now behold\n The wretches deaf to honour\u2019s call,\n Whom Helheim\u2019s bars imprison\u2019d hold.\n\n Along the wall pale phantoms flit,\n Who groan and shake with aguish fit!\n Palsies, catarrhs, and fevers grim\n Prey on each agonizing limb.\n When Thor advanc\u2019d, they wept and whined;\n Down their wan cheek a cold sweat flows!\n While slimy snakes, around them twined,\n Cause by their bite convulsive throes!\n\n Under the vaulted roof, behold!\n A throne appears, but not of gold,\n Silver, or ivory; this throne\n Was built of human sculls alone!\n Thereon sat Hela, fell to view;\n Her skin a chalky hue reveal\u2019d,\n Down from the girdle; livid blue\n Above it seem\u2019d from blood congeal\u2019d!\n\n A man\u2019s thigh-bone in moonshine bleach\u2019d\n T\u2019 enforce new torments she outstretch\u2019d,\n For never her vindictive mind\n Allows to rest the Nidding kind:\n This bone exhal\u2019d a corpse-like smell;\n On high she waved it like a wand;\n It made all crouch; it serv\u2019d full well\n As sceptre in her clammy hand.\n\n No sound, but moans to make flesh creep,\n Here interrupts the silence deep;\n No zephyrs thaw the frost severe;[26]\n Cadav\u2019rous odours taint the air;\n Three torches blue illum\u2019d the scene!\n By each a ghastly spectre stood!\n Shapes frightfully diseased were seen,\n But on their limbs no trace of blood!\n\n Now Thor began to smile; exempt\n From fear himself, he with contempt\n The crowd of trembling ghosts beheld,\n And loud this stern discourse he held:\n \u201cO wretched fools! why did ye shun\n The dangers of all-glorious war?\n Thus may it fare with every one\n Who dares not follow Asa-Thor!\n\n \u201cYe miserable, who eschew\u2019d\n Danger and death and scenes of blood!\n Weaker than women! Hela now\n Grinds ye with never-ending woe;\n Ye fear\u2019d to don the warrior\u2019s helm,\n And trembled at the bowstring\u2019s twang;\n Well, now, in Hel\u2019s accursed realm,\n Ye tremble with eternal pang!\u201d\n\n Thus Thor: the ghosts respond with moan:\n The chief advanc\u2019d to Hela\u2019s throne,\n And though thick fogs his utt\u2019rance choke,\n He still, though hoarse, thus suppliant spoke:\n \u201cHela, terrific queen! whose eye\n Fills every living breast with fear,\n Ah! not spontaneously do I\n Before thy awful throne appear.\n\n \u201cI cannot the desire withstand\n To visit Lok of Utgard\u2019s land;\n I long that chieftain to behold,\n And therefore here have travell\u2019d bold.\n Then, O! resolve me, Hela true,\n For well thou know\u2019st each distant clime,\n Where must I turn? what course pursue,\n To reach the realm of Jotunheim?\u201d\n\n Then Hela croak\u2019d out thus with force,\n From throat with fogs and vapour hoarse:\n \u201cBegone from hence! depart! away!\n Ye\u2019ll soon arrive where giants sway;\n The rosy hues that stain your cheek\n My eye-balls sear to look upon;\n Of health, and youth, and strength they speak;\n Such sights I loathe: avaunt! begone!\u201d\n\n Now Thor a sign impatient made\n Behind him, which his troop obey\u2019d.\n Lok ventur\u2019d not to raise his eye,\n As he stern Hela\u2019s throne past by;\n He closed his eyes her sight to shun,\n And stumbled heavily along:\n She look\u2019d at him and breath\u2019d a groan,\n Which echoed far the rocks among.\n\n I will not hide the fact that Thor,\n However firm and brave in war,\n Seem\u2019d anxious much and was not slow\n To quit those gloomy realms of woe.\n They march into the mountain\u2019s core,\n And issuing from the farthest rock,\n They soon arrive, and stand before\n The palace vast of Utgard-Lok.\n\n\n\n\nCANTO IV.\n\nTHOR ARRIVES AT UTGARD.\n\n\n When Utgard now before him lay,\n The chief seem\u2019d well content:\n Its site hemm\u2019d in by mountains grey,\n Its towers, its vast extent\n Excite his wonder: at the gate\n A chosen band of warriors sat,\n All clad in armour shining,\n With cheek on hand reclining.\n\n Down from the walls they cast a look,\n And at his hammer sneer:\n The shield of each was granite rock,\n A huge pine trunk each spear!\n But while on Thor they look askance,\n And view him closer still advance,\n They shout, his efforts braving,\n On high their lances waving.\n\n And now to giant Skrymur\u2019s wand\n Thor needs must have recourse;\n He snatches it from Tialfe\u2019s hand,\n And strikes the gate with force.\n The bars and bolts receded straight,\n And open flew the massive gate,\n On creaking hinges wheeling,\n A wondrous scene revealing!\n\n Young Roska now was like to swoon,\n When viewing with dismay\n Abodes, where cliffs in arches hewn\n Exclude the light of day.\n And strange to all appears the sight\n Of walls of alabaster bright\n In Utgard-Lok\u2019s vast dwelling,\n The giant fire-compelling.\n\n No solar beam hath ever shone\n Within this mansion wide,\n Where seated on his marble throne\n Reigns Utgard-Lok in pride.\n Around their sovereign scornful stand\n In triple rank a numerous band;\n Cuirasses bright of iron\n Their bodies stout environ.\n\n When Utgard\u2019s haughty chief beheld\n The glance of Thor severe,\n His quiv\u2019ring lip too plain reveal\u2019d\n Signs ill-suppress\u2019d of fear.\n His muscles were of marble grey,\n Nor sense nor feeling they betray;\n With eyes like rubies glaring,\n On Thor he fix\u2019d them staring.\n\n Still fogs and darkness reign\u2019d: anon\n Lok utter\u2019d accents strange;\n A blow his brazen shield upon\n Now caused the scene to change.\n Then flames burst from the vaulted dome,\n And play\u2019d around the spacious room,\n A varied light displaying,\n O\u2019er gold and silver straying!\n\n In motion seem\u2019d the arches all;\n Then Lok: \u201cThat trembling roof\n Behold! twill crush ye, should it fall;\n \u2019Twere best ye keep aloof.\u201d\n Struck with these words Thor rais\u2019d his eyes,\n And view\u2019d above him with surprize\n A moving rock appalling,\n Which threaten\u2019d instant falling.\n\n Intrepid thus he spoke: \u201cLet that,\n Which can\u2019t itself sustain,\n Fall down! thy rocks may crush me flat;\n Thy warning I disdain.\u201d\n And now down fell the pond\u2019rous mass,\n And roll\u2019d along the cavern\u2019s base,\n Afar its fragments scatt\u2019ring,\n With awful din and clatt\u2019ring!\n\n And lo! exuding from the ground\n A poisonous vapour grey,\n Like billow, roll\u2019d the hall around;\n But all at once to stay\n Its course at Aukthor\u2019s feet it seem\u2019d,\n And in a circle \u2019bout him steam\u2019d;\n But naught he fear\u2019d, when gazing\n On all those sights amazing.\n\n Then Thor: \u201cIn vain to cause my death\n Thy rolling rocks conspire;\n And naught avail to quench my breath\n Thy poisonous vapours dire:\n From noble Frigga\u2019s womb I spring,\n My sire is Odin, puissant king\n In lofty Asgard dwelling,\n All other gods excelling.\u201d\n\n Then Utgard Lok with accent grum:\n \u201cI know the reason well,\n That brings thee to these realms of gloom,\n Where swarthy giants dwell:\n I know thy lineage and thy blood,\n Yet laugh to scorn the Asar brood,\n Thy hammer\u2019s force despising,\n And naught thy merit prizing.\n\n \u201cThou boastest of thy strength sublime\n And all thou canst effect;\n We giants still fore Arild\u2019s time\n Were giants, recollect!\n Before the Asar we held sway,\n Before thou, Thor, hadst seen the day;\n Before thy hammer\u2019s glory\n Had furnish\u2019d theme for story.\n\n \u201cLet me our earliest records trace!\n Before the world\u2019s creation\n There was a vast and empty space;[27]\n Therein no vegetation.\n Ice, snow, and fog from Niffelheim\n Lay northward; south from Muspelheim\n Proceeded sparks of fire,\n That warmth and growth inspire.\n\n \u201cAgainst the frost i\u2019 th\u2019 vast abyss\n Winds from the south now came;\n They mix\u2019d; then matter dropp\u2019d, and this\n One solid heap became:\n Now cold \u2019gainst fire, and fire \u2019gainst cold\n Long struggled hard the palm to hold;\n But fire remain\u2019d victorious:\n Thence Ymer sprang the glorious!\n\n \u201cHim we acknowledge as the sire\n Of our gigantic brood:\n E\u2019en ye our towering size admire,\n With strength immense endow\u2019d.\n At that time thy earth-shaking car\n Did not exist, presumptuous Thor!\n \u201cLet me,\u201d quoth Thor, \u201cthis history\n Expound and all its mystery!\n\n \u201cThe wond\u2019rous facts I now relate.\n Than I none better knows:\n Alfader gave the word; and strait\n The cow Audumbla rose!\n She lick\u2019d the frost from the hard mass;\n Thence sprang the noble Asar race\n From solid strength descended,\n With warm blood ever blended.\n\n \u201cWith matter cold mix\u2019d genial flame;\n Then Bure sprang to life;\n After him Bor; a giant dame[28]\n He carried off as wife:\n This pair combined in high degree\n Strength, beauty, grace, and symmetry;\n His birth from their embraces\n Each Asa proudly traces;\n\n \u201cThe Alfs and Vaner too: in fine\n Whate\u2019er in Heimkringlas\n Is found most precious, rare, and fine,\n Was join\u2019d to build our race.\n The finest oaks must flourish tall,\n Be fell\u2019d, and cut in faggots small,\n When fuel we require\n To feed the nuptial pyre.\n\n \u201cTherefore, that first ye saw the light,\n Ye giants proud! \u2019tis true;\n Yet Bor, our ancestor, in fight\n Your hero did subdue:\n Ymer could not the force withstand\n Of Bor; he perish\u2019d by his hand;\n That giant so presuming\n In his own blood lay fuming.\n\n \u201cThen down into the deep abyss\n Bor Ymer\u2019s body cast;\n This form\u2019d the Earth\u2019s vast edifice;\n His blood the Ocean vast;\n The mountains from his bones arise;\n His brains compose the cloudy skies,\n And still continue dreaming,\n With constant changes teeming.\n\n \u201cThen all around and up and down\n The eye-brows thick he spread,\n And lo! from these the lofty town\n Of Midgard lifts its head!\n The scull was next spread out, and bent\n To build the heavenly firmament,\n Which Freya tinged with azure,\n The fav\u2019rite hue of pleasure.\n\n \u201cNow Bor in haste from Muspelheim\n Took many sparks, and threw them\n High \u2019midst the firmament sublime,\n And there ye still may view them:\n There still they glow with brilliant light;\n There still, as they revolve, excite,\n Above their heads and under\n Their feet, the Asar\u2019s wonder.\n\n \u201cNow Bor and Bure fell\u2019d two trees,\n Which grew by the sea-shore;\n A man and woman\u2019s form to these\n Was given by mystic lore:\n From the strong oak the man was made;\n The fragrant rose produced the maid,\n In grace and beauty shining,\n All hearts to love inclining;\n\n \u201cAskur and Embla hight: and lo!\n Bure this couple led\n To Midgard\u2019s city: from those two\n The human race proceed:\n There still they dwell and multiply,\n And render to the Asar high\n Their constant adoration,\n With many a rich oblation.\n\n \u201cFull well can I this hist\u2019ry trace.\n And every fact relate,\n What time befel the giant race\n Destruction and defeat:\n Bergelmer only and his wife,\n Saved on a wreck, escaped with life:\n From them thy giant nation\n Derives its generation.\n\n \u201cTo dwell in caverns \u2019neath the earth\n We Asar have compell\u2019d ye:\n Why boast ye then your earlier birth,\n Since thus we gods have quell\u2019d ye?\n Spite of your spells and magic song,\n Ye dwell perforce these rocks among:\n At night alone ye rally,\n And forth on mischief sally.\n\n \u201cAs noxious herbs and weeds incline\n To spread afar their roots,\n Fraud, rapine, evil to enshrine,\n Such are your main pursuits!\n Ye think once more in arms to try\n Your strength against our dynasty;\n Your boasts are out of season;\n Ye\u2019ll bitter rue your treason.\n\n \u201cFor not content with mischief done\n To Askur\u2019s sons of earth,\n Ye\u2019ve dared to wreak your malice on\n Upsala\u2019s sacred hearth.\n Down have ye cast the temple\u2019s walls,\n And this aloud for vengeance calls;\n Ye\u2019ve quench\u2019d the sacred fire:\n Tremble for Odin\u2019s ire!\u201d\n\n His eye shot flames as thus he spoke,\n His nostrils breath\u2019d disdain;\n Proud and contemptuous was the look\n He cast on Utgard\u2019s train:\n His brazen armour\u2019s brilliant sheen\n Made every Jotun quake, I ween;\n Himself stood calm, defending\n His right with soul unbending.\n\n The wild flames caused him no affright,\n Which all around him shone;\n Sudden a stream, as silver bright,\n Rush\u2019d like a torrent down:\n It near\u2019d his feet, and fain would go\n Beyond, but, stopping, ceased to flow,\n As if with fear congealing\n At Aukthor\u2019s look repelling.\n\n At length the giant king rejoin\u2019d,\n While fear assail\u2019d his heart:\n \u201cI would not, that with angry mind\n Thou shouldst from hence depart:\n Then tarry here with us awhile,\n And on our pastime deign to smile!\n This realm, trust my assertion,\n Can furnish rare diversion.\n\n \u201cWe\u2019ll enter on a course of games,\n When ye\u2019ve repose enjoy\u2019d,\n Such as a noble race beseems\n Of hate and envy void.\n In such a combat we can well\n Prove, without wrath, who most excel\n In wit, strength, or invention,\n In generous contention.\n\n To this proposal Thor agreed:\n Lok rising from his throne\n His guests with courteous gesture led\n Into a wide saloon.\n Golden its walls; of marble neat\n The table rests on golden feet:\n There stand with liquor glowing\n Carbuncle cups o\u2019erflowing.\n\n Loud through the echoing rocks around\n The various metals clang!\n Cascades of quicksilver resound\n A strange and wizard twang!\n Now Thor sat down with conscious pride,\n His three companions by his side,\n Their minds, without misgiving,\n To joy and pleasure giving.\n\n\n\n\nCANTO V.\n\nMAGIC SPELLS IN UTGARD.\n\n\n Now at the festive board sat down\n The chiefs in social converse. Lok\n Arose, and thus in jesting tone\n The ever sprightly Asa spoke:\n \u201cTo pass the time, while here we sit,\n Let us some mirthful game devise,\n Some trial of our strength or wit,\n And prove who best deserves the prize.\u201d\n\n \u201cTo this proposal I agree,\u201d\n To him thus Utgard-Lok replied;\n \u201cAnd what the game or sport shall be,\n Let thy ingenious brain decide!\u201d\n Then catching up some roasted meat,\n The Asa laughing cries: \u201c\u2019Tis well;\n Be this my first triumphant feat!\n In eating none can Lok excel.\n\n \u201cI find my appetite increase\n By what I have endured of late;\n By plenteous cheer \u2019twere not amiss,\n Methinks, my strength to renovate:\n Good trencher-men in troth we are,\n Of limbs robust and stomachs able:\n Go, therefore! bid the cook prepare,\n And set the viands on the table!\u201d\n\n \u201cTo what best suits thee I accede,\u201d\n Still jesting, Utgard-Lok replies;\n \u201cThere can be nothing worse, indeed,\n Than hungry from the board to rise:\n Yet, my good friend! thou\u2019lt soon perceive,\n However strong thy stomach be,\n In eating thou canst naught achieve\n \u2019Gainst one of my good company.\u201d\n\n This speech annoy\u2019d Laufeia\u2019s son;\n He jump\u2019d up hastily, and said:\n \u201cThou whoreson fiend! thou evil one!\n Think\u2019st thou my purpose to dissuade?\u201d\n The swarthy chief made no reply,\n But call\u2019d to one amidst his crew:\n \u201cCome forth!\u201d and lo! with fearful cry\n Starts forth a goblin[29] fell to view!\n\n Obedient to his master\u2019s call,\n Who now his zeal and service claims,\n He stalks across the spacious hall,\n In armour cover\u2019d o\u2019er with flames:\n The most were yellow; some were red;\n Some blue; anon with scornful look\n Towering above his rival\u2019s head,\n He cast his eyes on Asa-Lok.\n\n His widely gaping mouth reveals\n A double row of grinders long;\n At every finger, \u2019stead of nails,\n Were likewise teeth both sharp and strong:\n And strange to tell, each tooth displays\n On mouth or hand a pow\u2019rful light.\n Young Roska view\u2019d them with amaze,\n And shrunk back trembling with affright.\n\n The shadows that obscured the rock\n All vanish\u2019d at the goblin\u2019s sight.\n \u201cI do perceive,\u201d said Asa-Lok,\n \u201cEach of thy limbs hath power to bite:\n Yet trust me! though thou hast the power\n Each finger to employ as tooth,\n Thou\u2019lt not be able to devour\n More food than Loptur with his mouth.\u201d\n\n Into the hall by Lok\u2019s command\n A dish was brought of purest ore;\n \u2019Twas vast in size, and it contain\u2019d\n Of joints of meat an ample store.\n The ugly fiend and Asa-Lok\n Set to and crunched with all their might;\n They eat, as though they both would choke:\n This caused much wonder and delight.\n\n Each sat at one end of the dish,\n But in the middle soon they meet:\n Lok from the bones had clear\u2019d the flesh;\n At length he could no longer eat.\n Not so the goblin; he devour\u2019d\n The hard bones, golden dish, and all:\n He roll\u2019d his eyes around the board,\n And for more viands fain would call.\n\n Now loudly laugh\u2019d the giant crew;\n E\u2019en Thor the serious laugh\u2019d outright:\n Young Tialfe grinn\u2019d, and Roska too\n Was much diverted at the sight.\n The guests now sitting round the board,\n As arbiters pronounce the doom;\n They loud proclaim with one accord,\n That Asa-Lok was overcome.\n\n Then Utgard-Lok in jesting mood\n Call\u2019d out to Tialfe by his name:\n \u201cSince we are cloy\u2019d with drink and food,\n Let us arrange some other game!\n We practise here, the time to kill,\n Jokes and diversions not a few:\n Go thou, brave youth! and try thy skill!\n I fain would see what thou canst do.\u201d\n\n \u201cWhat callst thou trying? do not boast\n Too much!\u201d the ardent Tialf replied:\n \u201cThough Asa-Lok the prize have lost,\n That cannot, sure, our worth decide.\n He gave me armour; and ye\u2019ll find,\n Though ye can bones and dish devour\n Like dogs, that with undaunted mind\n I brave, and hope to quell your power.\u201d\n\n Then Utgard\u2019s Chief with knitted brow\n Rejoin\u2019d: \u201cTwere bootless to contend\n On what is past and gone: do thou\n Propose some game, my youthful friend!\u201d\n \u201cGood!\u201d answer\u2019d Tialfe: \u201cBe it so!\u201d\n And strait his corslet \u2019gan t\u2019 unlace.\n \u201cAn ye consent, I\u2019m ready now\n With any of your train to race.\u201d\n\n Then thus the swarthy chief: \u201c\u2019Tis well;\n And such a sport, methinks, is meet:\n For when our arms in vigour fail,\n We find our safety in our feet.\n Come then! begin! trace out the course!\n Yet I suspect, thou\u2019lt soon succumb,\n However great in speed thy force,\n When racing with my little Thumb.\u201d[30]\n\n Now Tialfe\u2019s limbs with anger shook,\n He threw around a scornful glance;\n And view\u2019d forth crawling from a nook\n A strange and dwarfish elf advance!\n Though little strength he seem\u2019d to boast,\n Yet supple as a bow was he:\n A veil enveloping his bust\n His features none allow\u2019d to see.\n\n \u201cI see his body swells or shrinks,\u201d\n Quoth Tialf, \u201cat pleasure \u2019fore the wind;\n In elasticity, methinks,\n He leaves all creatures far behind.\n Come, little hero! come along,\n And let us strait begin our course!\n Much need we, when the race is long,\n Not merely suppleness, but force.\u201d\n\n The signal given, off they set!\n The rocks re-echo with the sound!\n The dwarf first reach\u2019d the goal, and met\n Full butt his rival, turning round.\n Tialf bit his lips, and scarce suppress\u2019d\n His anger; panting thus he spake:\n \u201c\u2019Tis not enough our speed to test;\n Let us another trial make!\u201d\n\n Now off they start again: and though\n With all his might young Tialfe raced,\n Swifter than dart from archer\u2019s bow\n The supple dwarf the goal embraced.\n He halted, while his rival still\n Distant a half bow-shot was seen;\n Thus easy baffling Tialfe\u2019s skill,\n He chuckled in his sleeve, I ween.\n\n One trial more the chiefs ordain\u2019d;\n The dwarf the gage rejected not;\n He flew, and quick the goal attain\u2019d,\n And strait returning, reach\u2019d the spot\n From which they started, long before\n Tialfe himself could reach the goal.\n The youth sank breathless on the floor,\n With jaded limbs and anguish\u2019d soul.\n\n That Tialf was vanquish\u2019d all agreed:\n Like wind the dwarf now vanish\u2019d fleet.\n Then Utgard\u2019s chief to Aukthor said:\n \u201cNow try thyself some dextrous feat!\n Thy champions hitherto have shown\n But little skill and little power;\n But thou perhaps, and thou alone,\n Mayst all our efforts overpower.\u201d\n\n Thor drily then: \u201cIt may be so;\n I seek not our defeat to skreen:\n In eating, certes, I allow,\n That Asa-Lok hath vanquish\u2019d been.\n But that which most is thought in me\n Surprising, is my power of drink:\n Bring me a drinking horn! ye\u2019ll see,\n From no competitor I shrink.\u201d\n\n The chief gives signal; quick as thought\n Into the spacious hall is borne,\n Of curious yellow metal wrought,\n And carved with runes, a drinking horn.\n Its point extreme, so vast its length,\n Afar without the cavern lies:\n E\u2019en Thor, though conscious of his strength,\n Was stagger\u2019d at its awful size.\n\n With anxious eye and strict attention\n See Thor this vessel contemplate!\n It seems in truth of vast dimension,\n Yet for his stomach not too great.\n Then Utgard\u2019s chief. \u201cWell mayst thou doubt,\n If thou hast power that horn to drain:\n He who can see its measure out,\n Certes, will not of thirst complain.\n\n \u201cBut when through guile or negligence\n A giant hath our laws profaned,\n To empty that whole horn\u2019s contents\n Is oft the punishment ordain\u2019d.\n One draught the horn can seldom drain,\n In two the feat we sometimes see;\n But there is none among my train\n Who cannot empty it in three.\u201d\n\n To him thus Asa-Lok replied:\n \u201c\u2019Mongst all the chiefs in Odin\u2019s realm,\n If my experience may decide,\n In drinking Thor bears off the palm.\n Whene\u2019er he calls aloud for drink,\n And graps the horn with nervous arm,\n The Asar back with terror shrink,\n And Valhall trembles with alarm.\n\n \u201cFor him Iduna\u2019s tender care\n Provides the luscious apple-wine;\n And scarcely more delicious are\n The kisses from her lips divine:\n In drinking, as in fighting great,\n One single draught doth Thor suffice\n The largest horn to empty strait;\n And none with him dispute the prize.\n\n \u201cA well known fact I now declare;\n As\u2019-Odin every morning hies\n To Mimer\u2019s sacred fountain, where\n He courteous for a drink applies:\n Then Mimer from those bounteous rills\n A beaker, of dimensions vast\n In depth and breath, with water fills;\n That water boasts of wine the taste.\n\n \u201cOdin once Valaskialf forsook;\n To travel far it seem\u2019d him fit:\n While absent, Thor that beaker took,\n And at one draught he emptied it:\n Since then, the mighty warrior\u2019s fame\n Resounds from every Asa\u2019s mouth,\n And Asgard\u2019s chronicles proclaim\n The feat. I tell ye naught but truth.\n\n When Odin learn\u2019d this act of Thor,\n Thus burst he forth in angry tone:\n \u201cHa! what presumption! thou art far\n Too daring and too rash, my son!\n That fountain fresh with wisdom glows;\n Thor drank and straight did wit obtain:\n How canst thou, then, our chief suppose\n Incompetent thy horn to drain?\u201d\n\n Then answer\u2019d Utgard\u2019s prince: \u201cWho knows?\n In Odin\u2019s hall perhaps they feel\n Less thirst than here.\u201d Then Thor arose,\n And with that arm, whose nerves are steel,\n The horn he lifted from the ground;\n Nor difficult this effort seem\u2019d:\n This movement caused an echoing sound,\n And was alone a marvel deem\u2019d.\n\n \u201cOf drinkers we will hail thee first,\n If in that horn thou naught dost leave;\n And certainly thy tongue with thirst\n Unto thy palate will not cleave.\u201d\n Thus sneering said the fiend: awhile\n The Asa stood immers\u2019d in thought:\n Then grasp\u2019d the horn with sudden smile,\n And took one long and pow\u2019rful draught.\n\n E\u2019en as the sandy wilderness\n Drinks in th\u2019 impetuous floods of rain,\n That pour down from the heavenly space,\n Thus Aukthor drank, and drank amain:\n He stopp\u2019d, and with complacent look\n Began the vessel to explore;\n Yet spite of the long draught he took,\n It seem\u2019d as full as \u2019twas before.\n\n But Thor\u2019s high courage never fails;\n He leans upon his hammer bright:\n Again the beaker he assails,\n And quaffs with all his soul and might.\n In furrows deep his forehead rolls;\n His veins swell at the effort rude:\n He drank, as do the clefts and holes\n Of the ravine drink in the flood.\n\n Once more the chief review\u2019d the horn;\n Full, as before, the horn remains:\n How deep did then our hero mourn\n His baffled strength and bootless pains!\n Well might this horn with wonder fill\n Those, who knew not its mystery;\n For, spite of all he swallow\u2019d, still\n The smallest space was not left dry.\n\n Again the god his mouth applies\n Th\u2019 unfathomable horn to drain:\n He drank, e\u2019en as the deep abyss\n Drank in the blood of Ymer slain:\n The giants who this feat beheld\n All with astonishment turn\u2019d pale,\n But prudently their fear conceal\u2019d:\n Yet e\u2019en this draught did nought avail.\n\n When Asa Thor at length perceived,\n How fruitless all his efforts were\n To drain the horn, he inward grieved,\n And thus he spoke: \u201cI must declare,\n Ye chiefs of Jotunheim are first\n In power of swallowing drink, as well\n As flesh; for such unnatural thirst\n We sons of Asgard never feel.\n\n \u201cThe bowl we Asar do not drain\n The feverish heat of thirst to quell;\n We feel it not; \u2019tis strength to gain,\n That we imbibe our hydromel.\n How joyous at the board we meet!\n What lovely maids our drink prepare!\n \u2019Tis far less water\u2019d, and more sweet\n Than your insipid beverage here.\u201d\n\n Then to the god these words address\u2019d\n The chief of Utgard\u2019s gloomy state.\n \u201cWhen with broad shoulders we are bless\u2019d,\n The stomach also should be great;\n But since \u2019tis only sport, I fain\n Some other proof of skill would see;\n Some cheerful game do thou ordain!\n The choice, O chief! I leave to thee.\n\n \u201cOur custom in this vast saloon\n Is to divert ourselves with play;\n Tis thus with my companions boon\n Fast glide the tedious hours away;\n Then let us now at once proceed\n To try some sport, the time to pass\n I have it: Who can best succeed\n In lifting up a ponderous mass?\u201d\n\n Quoth Thor: \u201cI do consent to that.\u201d\n Lo! from a hole came running out\n A big and curious broad-tail\u2019d cat,\n And twirl\u2019d itself the hall about.\n It look\u2019d at Thor, and seem\u2019d to quake\n With terror; then it shrunk, and bent\n Itself in folds, like wily snake,\n To spring upon its prey intent.\n\n With its red eyes so small it peep\u2019d,\n Hunger and malice in its frown;\n Then on its belly forward crept,\n And gently by the god lay down.\n No furs enwrapp\u2019d this creature\u2019s skin,\n But rings of horn its limbs encased;\n When first call\u2019d forth the sport to join,\n It seem\u2019d with terror sore oppress\u2019d.\n\n It play\u2019d and frisk\u2019d the guests among\n With tail so scaly long and thick;\n Its mouth protrudes a forked tongue,\n With which \u2019twas wont its lips to lick.\n Then Lok: \u201cCanst thou lift up that cat,\n O Thor! thy strength is great indeed.\u201d\n \u201cNay!\u201d answered Asa Lok, \u201ca weight\n Far greater he can lift at need.\n\n \u201cThe hammer that our chief doth bear,\n Alone outweighs one hundred pound;\n But mark my words, while I declare\n A feat, for which he\u2019s much renown\u2019d:\n Once into lovely Freya\u2019s hall\n He enter\u2019d, while she sleeping lay;\n He seiz\u2019d the goddess, couch and all,\n And bore them in his arms away.\n\n With freshest rose-leaves fill\u2019d, the bed\n Was wrought of massive golden ore;\n But though so heavily it weigh\u2019d,\n With ease he raised it from the floor;\n Then to his castle, Trudvang hight,\n Triumphant bore it through the air;\n So noiseless was the Asa\u2019s flight,\n He naught disturb\u2019d the sleeping fair.\n\n The goddess bright with roses crown\u2019d\n Awoke at midnight\u2019s solemn hour,\n And much did it the fair astound,\n To find herself in Aukthor\u2019s bower:\n Himself was kneeling by her side;\n Till roused from her surprize at length\n She rose in all her beauty\u2019s pride,\n And trembled at the hero\u2019s strength.[31]\n\n Since charged with load of such vast weight,\n He bird-like cleaved the liquid air,\n Dost thou suppose thy frightful cat\n Too heavy for his arm to bear?\n Two sable cats[32] draw Freya\u2019s car,\n And what they draw, he raised alone:\n Than both his strength was greater far;\n Think ye, he cannot lift up one?\u201d\n\n The prince of Utgard smiled: \u201cTake care!\u201d\n Quoth he: \u201cbe not too sure of that!\n For I suspect, that Freya\u2019s car\n Is far less heavy than my cat.\u201d\n Now Thor prepared in Utgard\u2019s hall\n His strength to prove with eager zest;\n But silence he implored from all,\n And all complied with his request.\n\n Fixing the cat with watchful eye,\n Thor \u2019neath its belly threw his arm;\n It claw\u2019d and spat most frightfully,\n And whined with fury and alarm.\n \u2019Twas vain with this vile beast to cope,\n And Thor soon found his efforts weak;\n The more he strove to lift it up,\n The higher still became its back.\n\n On high, as far as arm could reach,\n He raised the creature towards the roof;\n But higher still the cat could stretch\n Its strange elastic form at proof:\n So hard the struggle, e\u2019en the soul\n Of mighty Thor felt some dismay:\n Now through the roof he breaks a hole,\n And fain towards heaven would lift his prey.\n\n But spite of all his efforts, he\n Could raise but one leg from the hearth;\n Tenacious clung the other three,\n As if fast rooted, to the earth.\n At length exhausted he became,\n And down he let the creature fall;\n And though he strove to hide his shame,\n \u2019Twas clearly visible to all.\n\n The cat was then removed. The fiend\n With look demure and wily sneer\n Then said to Tialfe\u2019s lord: \u201cMy friend!\n Thus goes it with our pastimes here.\n Like all things else in our domain,\n That cat can wond\u2019rous strength deploy;\n E\u2019en Thor, great Odin\u2019s son, \u2019tis plain,\n Cannot in strength with giants vie.\u201d\n\n To him thus sharp the god of war,\n For much those words his spirit grate:\n \u201cNow by my hammer and my car,\n Talking and boasting much I hate;\n But since with sneer and bantering\n The force of Thor thou seemst to doubt,\n Come forth thyself, O swarthy king!\n And try with me a wrestling bout!\u201d\n\n With soften\u2019d voice the chief rejoin\u2019d,\n For now fear made him lower his crest:\n \u201cNay! why so hasty? bear in mind,\n That all things here are done in jest!\n No malice here disturbs our sport;\n But since a wrestling match you chuse,\n I\u2019ve an old woman in my court,\n To cope with Thor she\u2019ll not refuse.\u201d\n\n To him Laufeia\u2019s crafty son:\n \u201cShe comes not for our chief too late;\n She\u2019ll rue the sport; his grasp alone\n Has power her limbs to dislocate:\n In ancient runes hath she not read,\n How on the giant\u2019s isle of rock,\n \u2019Midst a vast female troop he sped,\n And made them feel his hammer\u2019s shock?\n\n \u201c\u2019Twas sport to see him deal such blows\n On those fierce virgins; none unscathed\n Escaped; though numberless his foes,\n \u2019Midst flames his look defiance breathed:\n To drown him one the thought conceived,\n And urged him to the ocean\u2019s brink;\n But such a blow her scull received,\n She ne\u2019er again had power to think.[33]\u201d\n\n Angry and deeply blushing, Thor\n Struck on the forehead Asa Lok:\n Down to the earth he sank before\n His feet, while thus the thund\u2019rer spoke.\n \u201cThus I chastise thy sland\u2019rous tongue,\n On calumny and lies intent:\n Doubtless the Asar\u2019s choir among\n Thou art the most impertinent!\n\n \u201cWretched buffoon! base weather-cock!\n Vile mimic of the giant race!\n How darest thou Asa Thor provoke,\n And falsehoods thus insidious trace?\n Thyself an Asa, thou do\u2019st e\u2019er\n Delight thy peers to vilify:\n As sure as Fenris howls, I swear\n Thy punishment shall dreadful be.\u201d\n\n Now rising slow with blushing cheek,\n And forehead bleeding, Loptur spoke:\n \u201cWhy, cruel! on thy comrade wreak\n Thy vengeance for a harmless joke?\n \u2019Twas but in jest; since \u2019twas agreed\n That all we do should be in sport,\n Why not in word as well as deed\n With temper bear a sly retort?\n\n \u201cAre then thy strength and bravery\n At once become so weak, O Thor,\n That a mere joke, a raillery,\n To damp their energy hath power?\n No signs of fear or weakness show\u2019d\n Those virgins: clad in steel and brass,\n With clubs they to the battle strode;\n In strength no males could them surpass.\n\n \u201cYes! female goblins fell were they,\n Who sank beneath thy shaft divine;\n And this old woman here, I say,\n Reminds me of that act of thine:\n Meagre, decrepit, toothless, old,\n Can such a witch with Thor contend?\u201d\n Then quickly answer\u2019d Thor the bold:\n \u201cEnough! here let our quarrel end!\u201d\n\n Now tottering in the hall appears,\n Leaning a knotty staff upon,\n A woman deep advanced in years;\n Her eyes were sunk, her cheek was wan;\n Her coarse white locks, her shrivell\u2019d skin\n Announced extreme decrepitude:\n To pity much did Thor incline,\n When such a fragile form he view\u2019d.\n\n \u201cIt is not fit,\u201d the Asa said,\n \u201cThat thou shouldst cope with me before\n Thou hast a cup of juice essay\u2019d,\n Whose fruit grows in Valhalla\u2019s bower.\u201d\n Now from a hole within his shield\n He took a fruit of luscious taste:[34]\n With courteous look and accent mild\n To taste it much the dame he prest.\n\n \u201cEat this! my venerable dame!\n Thy days of youth \u2019twill straight restore;\n This fruit from Bragur\u2019s garden came;\n Iduna guards the sacred store:\n \u2019Twill make thy veins beat high with youth;\n \u2019Twill fill with eloquence thy tongue.\u201d\n Then thus the dame: \u201cI\u2019m old, in truth,\n Yet I remain for ever young.\n\n \u201cAll things do I devour, yet naught\n Consume; as for thy fruit divine,\n Keep it thyself! I need it not!\n But come! let us the sport begin!\u201d\n Thus said, her arms around her foe\n She cast with wondrous force and glee;\n Thor, struggling hard the crone to throw,\n At length fell breathless on his knee.\n\n His comrades trembled, sore afraid\n To view their chieftain\u2019s sad mischance:\n Now Thor to them a signal made\n To succour him with sword and lance.\n Then turning round in wrath extreme,\n To Utgard-Lok he fiercely cries:\n \u201cLet me this instant quit thy realm,\n Where frantic witchcraft gains the prize!\n\n \u201cI cannot bear such magic spells,\n Such visions strange: Odin alone,\n My sire, who in Valhalla dwells,\n Can from such mischief shield his son:\n Unknown to him I\u2019ve travell\u2019d here;\n Ah me! I do repent me now!\n Deceit, misfortune, checks severe\n Are all that I have proved below.\n\n \u201cBut when we next renew the fight,\n Naught shall thy spells thy person shield:\n Odin can magic runes indite,\n As Thor knows how his mace to wield:\n Allied we shall one day descend\n From thy vile yoke the world to free,\n And Utgard-Lok, arch-traitrous fiend,\n In his own realm shall vanquish\u2019d be.\u201d\n\n Indignant then he faced about,\n While shame and anger tinged his cheek;\n The chief of Utgard led him out,\n With mind perplex\u2019d and gesture meek:\n The mountain deeply sigh\u2019d and mourn\u2019d;\n Down rush\u2019d its silv\u2019ry blood amain;\n The gate slow on its hinges turn\u2019d,\n And Thor once more bestrode the plain.\n\n\n\n\nCANTO VI.\n\nTHE SPELLS UNRAVELLED.\n\n\n When now from subterranean gloom\n Emerged, again the hero stood\n Amidst the plain where flow\u2019rets bloom,\n With joy the azure sky he view\u2019d:\n His hammer shed around a light;\n His armour seem\u2019d on fire:\n He feels once more his wonted might\n Through all his veins transpire.\n\n He waved his hammer. Utgard\u2019s lord\n At once in him could recognize\n The god by Jotunheim abhorr\u2019d,\n The god, whose thunders shake the skies:\n His hair now stood upright with fear,\n His heart began to beat,\n For though in Utgard\u2019s nether sphere\n The chief had met defeat,\n\n He fear\u2019d, that when the bright domain\n Of Asgard Thor again should reach,\n Odin would all the spells explain,\n And surest means of vengeance teach.\n \u201cThat fatal consequence to thwart\n I must some scheme devise:\n Were it not best myself t\u2019 impart\n To Thor those mysteries,\n\n And frankly thus at once reveal\n How all things happen\u2019d there below?\n The key to each enchanted spell\n \u2019Twere better he from us should know,\n Than learn it elsewhere; this would move\n Still more the Asar\u2019s wrath,\n And hard would then the contest prove\n \u2019Gainst Thor and Odin both.\u201d\n\n Thus to himself thought Utgard Lok:\n Then full of cunning and deceit\n To Thor he thus embarrass\u2019d spoke:\n \u201cTis well for us, thou hast thought fit\n To leave our kingdom: thou shalt ne\u2019er\n With my consent return;\n Much from thy visit did I fear,\n We might have cause to mourn.\n\n \u201cBut now that for our giant race\n All danger\u2019s past, will I relate\n Frankly, how all things came to pass:\n And here, O chief! thy prowess great\n We all confess, and all admire;\n Thy sword and hammer bright\n All foes with terror must inspire,\n When thou appearst in sight.\n\n \u201cI learn\u2019d with much astonishment\n And no small dread, O chief! that thou\n Hadst form\u2019d a project of descent\n From Valaskialf to earth below.\n But when thy further views I learn\u2019d\n To visit Utgard\u2019s realm,\n Methought, O chief! thy brain was turn\u2019d\n To harbour such a scheme.\n\n \u201cDoubtless, I did not dare offend\n A god as frank as he is strong;\n I only sought my realm to fend\n By wizard spell and mystic song:\n The winds and waves in wild commotion\n I urged from pole to pole;\n But neither winds nor waves of Ocean\n Have power to daunt thy soul.\n\n \u201cI straight assumed a shape, of more\n Than human size or human strength;\n Upon the ground I \u2019gan to snore,\n With all my limbs stretch\u2019d out at length:\n I thought to fright thee from the heath,\n And check thy bold advance;\n But vain my threat\u2019ning size and teeth\n Against thy sword and lance.\n\n \u201cI trembled for thy hammer too\n Forged in the gloomy dwarfs\u2019 abode;\n He whom that strikes, full well I know,\n Is forthwith deluged in his blood.\n By strange illusions I inclined\n To give thy nerves a shock;\n But it ne\u2019er enter\u2019d in my mind\n So brave a chief to mock.\n\n \u201cWhat I had plann\u2019d, I did fulfil\n Forthwith; but thou wert naught afeard:\n Naught didst thou else, but closer still\n Thy belt around thy body gird:\n But I acknowledge, when I view\u2019d\n Thy footsteps turn my way,\n A cold sweat all my limbs bedew\u2019d,\n As on the grass I lay.\n\n \u201cThy eyes were thus deceived: the blow\n That first thy hammer gave my head,\n Though not thy heaviest, would, I trow,\n If felt, have my quietus made:\n When I beheld thee raise thy arm,\n My limbs with terror shook,\n I conjured by a powerful charm\n Thy blow against that rock.\u201d\n\n At this discourse Thor stood aghast,\n Then hied the rock to scrutinize;\n He there beheld three caverns vast\n Hewn in the rock before his eyes.\n While Thor with wonder view\u2019d this cave,\n The giant humbly said:\n \u201cBehold! the blows thy hammer gave\n Those caverns three have made.\n\n \u201cBut still th\u2019 illusion to maintain,\n And further still thy sense deceive,\n I rubb\u2019d my brow and feign\u2019d some pain\n At every blow thou thoughtst to give.\n I must confess thy hammer\u2019s shock\n Could lay the mightiest low;\n But thou didst split the granite rock,\n Instead of Skrymur\u2019s brow.\n\n \u201cI thought to lead thee \u2019stray amidst\n The mountain\u2019s windings intricate;\n By my contrivance \u2019twas thou didst\n Arrive at pale-blue Hela\u2019s gate.\n I thought to frighten thee away\n From our snow-cover\u2019d zone;\n But fear to thee, I needs must say,\n Is utterly unknown.\n\n \u201cAnd now will I relate to ye\n How all occurr\u2019d in my domain:\n Then listen to my words, I pray,\n While those enigmas I explain.\n And first, O Lok! I gave to thee\n A dish well fill\u2019d with meat;\n Thou didst thy duty manfully,\n \u2019Twas sport to see thee eat.\n\n \u201cThough thou with all thy force didst eat,\n And we thy powers did much admire,\n Yet how couldst thou escape defeat,\n When thy competitor was Fire?\n For thus the goblin fierce we call\n With ever-craving maw:\n What wonder, that bones, dish, and all,\n He should consume like straw?\n\n \u201cAnd, Tialfe! though in racing thou\n Didst manifest a wondrous speed,\n Yet to thy rival thou must bow,\n His swiftness far did thine exceed;\n But where\u2019s the wonder that sharp elf\n Should first the goal embrace?\n For know! it was my Thought itself,\n The dwarf,[35] who won the race:\n\n \u201cAll things in swiftness Thought excels:\n Who can so plain a truth gainsay?\n And mine I charged with magic spells,\n To lead thee from the course astray.\n Yet though but ill-success ye\u2019ve met\n On Utgard\u2019s gloomy shore,\n Believe me, we shall ne\u2019er forget\n The mighty deeds of Thor.\n\n \u201cI cannot from thy praise restrain,\n O Asa! for thy powers of drink;\n For though the horn thou couldst not drain,\n Thou didst not from the effort shrink.\n Each of my vassals stood aghast\n At such a bold essay;\n For one end of that horn so vast,\n Think! in the ocean lay!\n\n \u201cWhile thou didst so much water quaff,\n O Asa! we could well perceive\n The horn by suction did one half\n The sea of its contents bereave:\n Dost thou of my assertion doubt?\n Go to yon cliff\u2019s high brink,\n And see how much thy drinking bout\n Has made old Ocean shrink!\u201d\n\n Now Asa-Thor moved towards the sea;\n Him follow\u2019d Roska, Lok, and Tialf:\n They lean\u2019d upon their swords to see\n The ocean; it had sunk one half.\n The depth immense they all admire\n From a stupendous height;\n But terrified, they quick retire\n From the appalling sight.\n\n Then thus the chief of Utgard: \u201cThor,\n I hope, will bear me no ill-will;\n I trust he hath absolved me, for\n I\u2019ve giv\u2019n him scope to prove his skill:\n My spells have only served to show\n His powers in clearer light;\n The sands from whence the waters flow\n Have testified his might.\n\n \u201cWhen thou, great chieftain, shalt return\n To thy bright dome in Trudvang\u2019s grove,\n There shalt thou find that drinking-horn:\n Accept it as a pledge of love.\n \u2019Twill serve thy visit to recall\n To Utgard-Lok\u2019s abode,\n And cause, when drinking in thy hall,\n The daily ebb and flood.\u201d[36]\n\n Then Thor: \u201cIn fraud and artifice\n Thou art a most accomplish\u2019d elf;\n Methinks it would not be amiss\n To try my strength upon thyself.\n Thou dost deserve with broken head\n Thy treason to deplore,\n And that this hand be tinged with red,\n And moisten\u2019d with thy gore.\u201d\n\n Then Utgard\u2019s chief to sigh began,\n With quiv\u2019ring lip and falt\u2019ring tone:\n \u201cIt would not, sure, the stronger man\n Become to slay the weaker one:\n Thy struggle with the cat we saw\n To raise it towards the roof;\n When it began to spit and claw,\n With fear we stood aloof.\n\n \u201cWith all thy thund\u2019ring from the sky,\n Thou ne\u2019er hast caused such fear as then;\n For know, the cat, that thou didst try\n To bear aloft with effort vain,\n Was the enormous serpent fell\n That Midgard\u2019s sphere enfolds,\n And circling all the earth, its tail\n In its own mouth it holds!\n\n \u201cProud of thy strength of heavenly proof,\n Thou strov\u2019st the struggling beast to raise,\n And high as the vast cavern\u2019s roof\n Thou seem\u2019dst to lift it up with ease:\n But still, however high from earth\n Thou strov\u2019st to lift it up,\n With angry tail it lash\u2019d the hearth,\n And made thy prowess droop.\n\n \u201cAnd lastly, the old wrinkled dame,\n Who, wrestling, show\u2019d such skill and power,\n Weak and decrepit though she seem,\n Had strength enough thy crest to lower.\n But where\u2019s the wonder that her arm\n Should conquer Thor sublime?\n To conquer all the fatal charm\n She boasts: her name is Time.\n\n \u201cThat crone so greedy, gaunt, and grim,\n Wanders about with hungry mouth;\n Old though she seem in face and limb,\n Yet still she boasts eternal youth.\n In every clime she proves her pow\u2019r\n By great Alfader\u2019s doom;\n And though she every thing devour,\n She nothing does consume.\n\n \u201cOne day her grinders will devour,\n I tell ye truth, our giant breed;\n She\u2019ll likewise crush the Asars\u2019 power,\n For thus the Nornor have decreed.\n Thou wert compell\u2019d to bend the knee\n Before that ancient dame;\n Let that defeat a warning be,\n And thy presumption tame!\u201d\n\n Now Aukthor\u2019s eyes with fury glare;\n He rais\u2019d his mace, and fain would slay\n The fiend; but he, dissolv\u2019d in air,\n Had fled to Utgard far away.\n The god no longer now beheld\n A mountain o\u2019er his head:\n He stands upon a spacious field\n With clover thick o\u2019erspread.\n\n\n\n\nCANTO VII.\n\nTHE RETURN HOME.\n\n\n Girding his belt still closer round\n His loins, the chief his way pursued:\n Towards eve a meadow vast he found,\n Where herds of cattle grazing stood.\n Still moving on with soul on fire,\n His eyes a distant dwelling reach,\n The humble cot of Tialfe\u2019s sire\n Embosom\u2019d in a grove of beech.\n\n Then Tialfe blush\u2019d, and towards the cot\n Ran lustily along the grass:\n Him follow\u2019d Roska light of foot\n With streaming hair and rosy face.\n To view the spot how great their joy,\n Where first the breath of life they drew!\n Shouts of delight reveal the boy;\n Roska shed tears like morning dew.\n\n Close to the cottage-door outspread\n A linden-tree its branches wide:\n The peasant there beneath its shade\n Sat with his consort by his side.\n Soon as the children met their eyes,\n High beat their hearts with ecstacy;\n \u201cLo! there is Tialf!\u201d the Gaffer cries:\n \u201cLo! there is Roska!\u201d echoes she.\n\n The dame gave vent to many a tear,\n When clasping Roska in her arms:\n Much wonder caused the shield and spear,\n And eye that spoke of war\u2019s alarms.\n The ancient dame felt never tired\n Upon her daughter\u2019s charms to dwell;\n Her size improved she much admired,\n Her slender waist, and bosom\u2019s swell.\n\n \u201cI scarcely can believe, that I\n Gave birth to such a daughter brave:\n Whence gottest thou that flashing eye?\n And who that shining corslet gave?\u201d\n Young Roska gravely thus replied:\n \u201cMy gracious master Asa-Thor\n The corslet shield and sword supplied:\n His lessons fit my soul for war.\u201d\n\n Then the old man with locks so grey\n In close embrace his Tialfe held:\n The youth with self-esteem swell\u2019d high,\n Proud of his casque, his lance and shield.\n \u201cMy darling boy! in truth, \u2019tis strange,\u201d\n Thus sobbing did the parent say:\n \u201cWhence comes so wonderful a change?\n Thou wert a child but yesterday.\n\n \u201cWhence gottest thou that martial brow,\n And strength the toils of war to brave?\n Who gave thee force to bend the bow,\n And who that glitt\u2019ring armour gave?\u201d\n Then Tialfe: \u201cThor my gracious lord\n Gave me these arms; the art of war\n From him I learn; to wield the sword,\n And poise the lance, and mount the car.\u201d\n\n When to his parents Tialf reveal\u2019d\n The presence of the puissant Thor,\n The old man and his consort kneel\u2019d,\n Inspired with awe, the god before:\n With timid sigh the old man said:\n \u201cO god! whose fame the world doth fill,\n Thy car is safe beneath my shed,\n And thy two goats are living still.\u201d\n\n This speech the Asa\u2019s nerves restored;\n His wrath quick vanish\u2019d like the wind:\n Reflecting on the giant\u2019s word,\n He felt consoled in heart and mind.\n Now to the stable straight he goes,\n And opes the door: with joy he swell\u2019d,\n And quick forgot all cares and woes,\n When he his goats and car beheld.\n\n And now the giant queller took\n (His custom \u2019twas) his hammer bright;\n A well directed blow he struck,\n And slew his goats of colour white.\n Now jump\u2019d th\u2019 old woman up in haste,\n Upon the board to spread the cloth;\n While Lok began the meat to baste,\n And feed the fire, and mix the broth.\n\n Lo! from the wood the peasant\u2019s son,\n Laden with faggots, now appears;\n He piles them on the hearth: anon\n The smoking flesh the trav\u2019llers cheers:\n No dish had they; Thor\u2019s buckler broad\n This want supplied: and now they feed\n With hearty zest, while the goats\u2019 blood\n Furnish\u2019d, as wont, delicious mead.\n\n No sooner was the supper past,\n Thor rose observant of his rite;\n The bones within the skins he cast:\n But Tialfe\u2019s father at the sight,\n Mindful of what before was done,\n Quits hastily the festive hearth,\n And grasping by the arm his son,\n Into the forest leads him forth.\n\n Then Thor, the mighty, cried aloud:\n \u201cWhy dost thou lead that youth away?\u201d\n But the old peasant only bow\u2019d,\n And to the grove pursued his way:\n \u201cWhat once he did, I recollect,\u201d\n Quoth he; \u201cI must not hesitate;\n I\u2019m fearful, if he be not check\u2019d,\n He may his former trick repeat.\u201d\n\n The giant-queller laugh\u2019d amain:\n \u201cNay, father! leave the youth alone;\n I wager, Tialfe will ne\u2019er again\n Be tempted by a marrow-bone:\n To renovate his strength he now\n No longer needs to suck the marrow,\n As whilom, when he drove the plough,\n Or fell\u2019d the wood, or wheel\u2019d the barrow.\n\n Cheer\u2019d by the Asa\u2019s blithesome mood,\n The old man let Tialf\u2019s kirtle go:\n The trav\u2019llers now, with savoury food\n Refresh\u2019d, their thoughts on sleep bestow.\n But Thor, the mighty god of war,\n Whose soul with thoughts heroick glows,\n Doff\u2019d not his armour; in his car\n He stepp\u2019d, and there enjoy\u2019d repose.\n\n The morning dawn\u2019d: with choral lay\n The feather\u2019d songsters fill the skies:\n The sun ascends; the trav\u2019llers gay\n From slumbers light refresh\u2019d arise.\n To war and bold adventure prone,\n Each buckles on his armour strait,\n And whets his weapon on the stone,\n That stands without the cottage gate.\n\n On the goats\u2019 feet Thor went to nail\n The shoes of gold; the silken reins\n He fasten\u2019d, and prepared to sail\n Across the vast celestial plains.\n He grasps his hammer; in the car\n His followers place them by his side:\n \u2019Midst thunder\u2019s crash and lightning\u2019s glare\n They mount, and skyward rapid glide.\n\n The car swift rolling through the sky\n The peasant views with mute amaze:\n The more he marks them mounting high,\n The more he stares with stupid gaze.\n Soaring aloft, what words can paint\n Roska\u2019s and Tialf\u2019s extreme surprize,\n When stretching cross the firmament\n The rainbow ring salutes their eyes?\n\n When Asa Thor, the god renown\u2019d,\n Arrived within his bright domain,\n Behold a purple blush around\n Spread itself o\u2019er the azure plain:\n Heimdaller, when he view\u2019d the car,\n Sounded his horn in glorious style;\n And the seven Virgins greeted Thor\n With wave of hand and gracious smile.\n\n Then said the Mi\u00f6lner-brandisher\n To the young Roska lily-white:\n \u201c\u2019Twere best I bring thee strait to her,\n Who rules in Folkvang, Freya hight;\n For never since the world has been\n The world, was female, wife, or maid,\n In Trudvang\u2019s warlike castle seen;\n Nor will I now that rule evade.\u201d\n\n The dome of Freya, queen of love,\n The fairest of the Disar fair,\n Stands in a vale, where many a grove\n Of rose-trees sweet embalms the air.\n From earthly sorrow and annoy\n For ever freed, each constant youth\n And faithful maid doth there enjoy\n The guerdon bright of love and truth.\n\n In that abode of joy and bliss,\n Where many a graceful form is seen,\n The greatest ornament, I wis,\n Is Freya\u2019s self, the lovely queen.\n Her golden hair, her eyes deep blue,\n Her bosom turn\u2019d with finest swell,\n Her slender waist, her skin\u2019s soft hue,\n Her teeth which brightest pearls excel,\n\n Her breath of sweetest flower perfume,\n Her soul-enchanting smile, her cheek\n Which emulates the peach\u2019s bloom,[37]\n All these to sing my voice is weak.\n In either hand she holds a rose;\n Each doth delicious odour spread:\n Each with the liveliest colour glows;\n One tinges morn, one eve with red.\n\n So gentle is her soul and mind,\n All painful cares and griefs she heals:\n Her breath, which forms the vernal wind,\n The earth with vegetation fills.\n When morn displays its roseate hue,\n Tears glisten in her orbs so bright;\n These fall to earth in shape of dew,\n And fill each flow\u2019ret with delight.\n\n Two daughters claim her tend\u2019rest care,\n Their faultless forms what graces deck!\n Like waterfall, their radiant hair\n Streams down their alabaster neck!\n Hnos, who the moon\u2019s bright chariot guides,\n The paragon of children shines:\n Siofna, who over sleep presides,\n All hearts to peace and love inclines.\n\n \u201cFolkvangur is the place, methinks.\n Most suitable to Roska fair;\n From danger, oft I\u2019ve seen, she shrinks,\n And fails in strength the shield to bear.\u201d\n Thus Thor in disappointment said,\n Then from the girl her armour takes:\n \u201cGive up thy sword! thou peasant maid!\n Such weapons ill become thy sex.\n\n \u201cI\u2019ll lead thee strait to Freya\u2019s grove,\n Where every female loves to dwell:\n Better wilt thou in sports of love,\n Than in the toils of war excel.[38]\n Good will and spirit too thou hast,\n But oft thy vigour fails at proof:\n For thy soft-fibred hand \u2019twere best\n To hold the harp, or weave the woof.\u201d\n\n Thereat to Freya\u2019s blest abode\n He march\u2019d, with Roska by his side;\n The maid accompanied the god,\n With confidence of joy and pride.\n The goddess praised her graceful air,\n Her shape, her eyes, her youthful bloom\n And from that moment Roska fair\n Remain\u2019d for aye in Folkvang\u2019s dome.\n\n Now Thor to Valhall hastens on,\n With Tialf his swain in armour clad;\n Odin beholds him from his throne,\n And hails his son with accents glad.\n Now the Valkyrior bright advance\n With brimming cups of hydromel:\n Th\u2019 Einherier all with horse and lance\n Now charges make, and now repel.\n\n\n\n\nCANTO VIII.\n\nTHOR VISITS THE GIANT HYMIR.\n\n\n Thor, though vex\u2019d in mind, his anger\n Prudently resolv\u2019d to hide;\n Thus to be the butt of mock\u2019ry\n To the giants gall\u2019d his pride:\n Vengeful thoughts his heart corroding\n Urge him \u2019gainst that lawless crew;\n Down to Ocean\u2019s deepest cavern\n He would fain his foes pursue.\n\n Now to Odin\u2019s throne ascending\n In his brazen armour clad,\n Low with filial reverence bending,\n To Alfader thus he said:\n \u201cForce \u2019gainst giants naught availeth;\n Wisdom too must bear its part:\n Father! from thy cup of science\n Grant one drop to cheer my heart!\u201d\n\n Quaffing now from wisdom\u2019s beaker,\n New conceptions fill his brain:\n Naught this time to Lok his comrade\n Of his plan will Thor explain.\n Sole his bold career pursuing,\n Think! what joy his bosom feels,\n Proudly Dovre\u2019s lofty pine-tops\n Crushing with his chariot wheels.\n\n Now the rocky cave approaching,\n Near the vast white-foaming sea,\n Where for ages Midgard\u2019s serpent\n Coil\u2019d amidst the sea-weed lay;\n When he view\u2019d it put in motion\n Treach\u2019rously the billow blue;\n Swell\u2019d his heart with deep emotion;\n Glances proud towards heaven he threw.\n\n Monster vile! thou shall no longer\n (Thus in thought discourse he holds)\n The affrighted earth encircle\n With thy venom-swelter\u2019d folds.\n Thou shalt cease thy hateful pastime,\n Hurling seamen down to Ran:\n Thor shall crush thee; from thy fury\n Thor shall free the race of man.\n\n Now the god assumes the figure\n Of a youthful rustic clown:\n Where the whirlwind eddies howling,\n There he throws his helmet down.\n Like a rock well planed and hollow\u2019d,\n Crested with a grove of pine,\n Thus the brazen helm and horse-hair\n Glitt\u2019ring in the sunbeam shine.\n\n Now his beard he doff\u2019d, and threw it\n On a rock; a bush to view,\n There it lay: himself moved onward,\n Changed to swain in kirtle blue.\n Dext\u2019rous was the transformation;\n Who could now the Asar know?\n Heimdal view\u2019d the change with pleasure,\n Perch\u2019d on Bifrost\u2019s radiant bow.\n\n Giant Hymir\u2019s rocky dwelling\n Thor proceeded now to find,\n With red cheeks and locks so yellow\n Streaming \u2019fore the morning wind:\n Round his waist his belt fast girded\n Show\u2019d like strip of crimson wool:\n Thus the Asa, arm\u2019d with cunning,\n Giants shall no more befool.\n\n Like an axe he bore his hammer,\n Trudging o\u2019er the dusty plain;\n Scarce can he disguise his fierceness,\n Scarce his vengeful thoughts restrain.\n Entering in a gloomy cavern\n Near the rustling waterfall,\n In his morning dream indulging,\n There he found the giant tall.\n\n Crown\u2019d with dusky hair, his forehead\n Seem\u2019d a sea-weed-cover\u2019d rock;\n Hard his loins and tough his fibres,\n Like the trunk and roots of oak:\n In his mouth, which wide extended\n Show\u2019d like cavern vast and dark,\n Glared three rows of frightful grinders\n Like the teeth of rav\u2019nous shark.\n\n Near this cave a fertile meadow\n Varies with the rugged scene:\n Flowers of divers hues contrasting\n With the dew-clad grass so green:\n Lambkins frisk and bleat delighted,\n Nibbling leaves from ev\u2019ry thorn;\n There in richest clover revel\n Oxen fat with crumpled horn.\n\n Now the giant woke, and casting\n Round his eyes of fiery hue,\n In a corner Thor discovered,\n Like a weak-limb\u2019d lad to view.\n \u201cHa! who into Hymir\u2019s dwelling\n Rashly dares to force his way?\n Wretched stripling! for thy boldness\n Thou with loss of life shall pay.\u201d\n\n Then the stripling, nothing daunted:\n \u201cHere I stand with conscience clear;\n Time doth all conditions level;\n Nought is to be gain\u2019d by fear.\n Though before I never trembled,\n Now I well may feel alarm:\n Sure, a chief so strong and mighty\n Will not deign a boy to harm?\n\n \u201cMuch doth it become a giant\n Magnanimity to show!\n Nought would it, O chief! avail thee,\n Should my blood in torrents flow:\n Why then should I feel down-hearted?\n Thou wouldst but despise me more;\n Thinkst thou, I have left my courage\n At my father\u2019s cottage-door?\n\n \u201cPale to turn and fear exhibit\n Baseness proves, and naught avails;\n See the hedgehog, who a pris\u2019ner\n In his bristly castle quails:\n Naught he deems himself in safety,\n Though his quills erect he rears;\n Still to peace and joy a stranger,\n E\u2019en the slightest noise he fears.\n\n \u201cNot so acts the little sparrow,\n Far more delicate and weak;\n Though not cased in mail, in ev\u2019ry\n Cleft and nook he shows his beak;\n Mark, his bold, advent\u2019rous spirit\n Ne\u2019er from danger keeps aloof;\n Frank and free, he often perches\n Twitt\u2019ring on the peasant\u2019s roof.\n\n \u201cHere I stand, a simple sparrow,\n In the giant\u2019s dark abode;\n Sure the mighty eagle will not\n Deign to shed a sparrow\u2019s blood!\n Coarsest food, naught else I ask thee;\n Crumbs, that from thy table fall;\n And whene\u2019er thou goest a fishing,\n I will aid thy net to haul.\u201d\n\n Then the giant, loudly laughing,\n Stretch\u2019d his lip from ear to ear:\n \u201cHim, who thus implores my pity\n Slay I will not; do not fear!\u201d\n Much he laugh\u2019d to hear a story\n Told in such a simple strain,\n And his laugh so wild and boist\u2019rous\n Made the forest ring again.\n\n Then said he: \u201cIn th\u2019 early morning\n Rudely blows the northern blast;\n Here thou\u2019rt from its force protected,\n Couch\u2019d within this cavern vast.\n But when sitting in the fragile\n Bark on the tempestuous sea,\n If thy sprightliness and courage\n There stand by thee, we shall see.\u201d\n\n \u201cSince my nerve thou doubtest, giant,\u201d\n Thor replied, \u201cNo more delay!\n Put me quickly on the trial;\n Hast thou any bait, I pray?\u201d\n \u201cFriend, the bait that best will suit thee\n In my garden thou wilt find;\n There doth many a caterpillar\n Round the bushes crawl and wind.\n\n \u201cBut if on the leaf thou findest\n None, of other means I know:\n Take thy spade and dig yon barrow,\n Worms enough thou\u2019lt find, I trow!\n Take thy shirt-pin off and bend it;\n Lo! a fish-hook hast thou strait.\n Then thou art prepared for fishing;\n I myself use eels for bait.\u201d\n\n \u201cHa! the worm shall not escape me,\u201d\n Angry Thor replied, \u201cI know;\n Round my arm in anguish writhing,\n It shall perish by my blow.\n Come, no more delay! allow me\n But to take what suits me best.\u201d\n \u201cGo and do so,\u201d said the giant;\n Off the stripling sets in haste;\n\n To the meadow straight he hies him,\n Where the giant\u2019s cattle stood;\n There full butt a bull ferocious\n Barr\u2019d his way in threat\u2019ning mood.\n Now with levell\u2019d horns he rushes\n On the youth his rage to wreak;\n Thor, its head with both hands seizing,\n Tore it from the bleeding neck!\n\n With the head upon his shoulder\n Of the proudly-horned bull,\n Thor came running \u2019cross the meadow,\n High in glee, of courage full.\n With the greatest ease he bore it,\n And he needs must run in haste,\n For the giant had already\n Hoisted in his boat the mast.\n\n When the giant on the shoulder\n Of the youth the bull\u2019s head view\u2019d,\n Loud he praised his strength and courage,\n Much admired his hardihood.\n Launching now the sloop for fishing,\n Each the oar with ardour plies,\n While the keel with noise and creaking\n Through the dark blue billow flies.\n\n Then thought Aukthor: To the serpent\n Could I once approach as nigh,\n So that I could thrust my Mi\u00f6lner\n Into his ferocious eye,\n This would give me greater pleasure,\n Than to hear the clash of arms,\n Or to gaze in proud Valhalla\n On the bright Valkyrior\u2019s charms.\n\n All the world\u2019s distress and mis\u2019ry[39]\n From that serpent fell proceeds:\n Couch\u2019d in ambush, on the vitals\n Of th\u2019 affrighted earth he feeds:\n From his fangs all dire diseases\n He to plague mankind distils;\n And his venom in vast globules\n Sea and land with havock fills.\n\n When a man by ling\u2019ring sickness\n Tortured, feels th\u2019 approach of death;\n When he, during life\u2019s last struggle,\n Faint and fev\u2019rish pants for breath;\n When the wife reads in her husband\u2019s\n Sunken eye his last farewell;\n Then his scales the serpent shaking\n Hisses with enjoyment fell.\n\n When the mother views with anguish\n At her breast her dying child,\n Which but lately, like an apple,\n Blooming grew in autumn mild;\n When the child will suck no longer,\n When life\u2019s strength is vanish\u2019d quite;\n Joyous then the serpent rises,\n Loudly hissing in the night.\n\n When man\u2019s brain in death is frozen,\n Loud he testifies his joy;\n Shakes his scales, when from the topmast\n Falls the luckless sailor boy.\n When a constant swain his darling\n Maiden on the pyre beholds,\n Foams the ocean, where the serpent\n Coils itself in endless folds.\n\n All the serpents foul and frightful,\n That infest the lab\u2019ring earth,\n Are engender\u2019d by that monster\n From the froth it vomits forth:\n From it springs the fatal boa\n On the distant southern shores,\n Which insatiate still with hunger\n Oft the biggest ox devours.\n\n Now this snake in motion spiral\n Twines itself the trees around;\n Now to catch the heedless cattle,\n Steals along the swampy ground.\n Those of lesser growth with equal\n Malice their bright hues display,\n And with eyes deceitful gleaming\n Askur\u2019s hapless offspring slay.\n\n Beautiful with rings encircled\n Are their skins like flowers to view,\n Vying oft in brilliant colour\n With the rose and violet\u2019s hue:\n Vapours poisonous exuding\n Under hedges oft they lie;\n And the birds upon the branches\n Fascinate with magic eye.\n\n Fenris certainly is frightful,\n Friend of the malignant night;\n Oft he hurls men down to Helheim,\n From the steep cliff\u2019s dizzy height:\n Oft he guides the midnight robber,\n Steel excites him to employ,\n And whene\u2019er the robber murders,\n Fenris howls with frantic joy.\n\n \u2019Gainst the forest-king the lion\n He the tiger fell begot:\n Formerly the bear suck\u2019d honey,\n Guileless in his mossy grot.\n Next engender\u2019d he th\u2019 hy\u00e6na,\n Lynx, and fox, to plunder given;\n And \u2019gainst these the bear and lion\n Are to endless contest driven.\n\n Fenris, when a wounded body\n He perceives at midnight hour,\n Makes it carrion; but this serpent\n Hath a far more dang\u2019rous power:\n I will, therefore, quick destroy it;\n Man shall cease to be its prey:\n Thor shall Askur\u2019s race deliver\n From their fiercest enemy.\n\n Blest with health and strength to Freya[40]\n Shall they mount to realms on high!\n And when they become too numerous,\n Let them fight and bravely die!\n They should ne\u2019er give way to hatred,\n Even where the sword decides:\n Wrath becomes not gallant warriors,\n Whom the voice of honour guides.\n\n They shall move in ranks to battle.\n No sea-serpent cause them fear;\n There like merry youths and lusty,\n Enter on their bright career:\n Manfully rush on each other,\n Wave the sword, the pennon spread,\n And in fair and open combat\n Joy their generous blood to shed.\n\n Then when blood streams forth in torrents\n Thor in arms shall tread the sky,\n And \u2019midst thunder\u2019s crash and lightning\n Summon them to Valhall high:\n There admitted \u2019mongst the Asar\n Shall they quaff delicious mead,\n While with heavenly harpings Bragur\n Chaunts aloud each glorious deed.\n\n Thus the Asa thought, and onward\n \u2019Gan to row with all his might;\n With his oar he made the billow\n Fly before him foaming white.\n Fired with anger, he continued\n On with furious zeal to row:\n Streams of brine in spray dissolving\n Down his back and shoulders flow.\n\n Now the boat half fill\u2019d with water,\n Giant Hymir cried in wrath,\n \u201cHold! I bid thee! row no longer!\n We shall swamp, and perish both.\u201d\n \u201cNay,\u201d said Thor, \u201clet us go farther!\n Soon we\u2019ll make a glorious cast;\u201d\n But the giant stamp\u2019d with passion,\n Leaning \u2019gainst the quiv\u2019ring mast.\n\n \u201cIf thou rowest any further,\u201d\n Said the giant, \u201cwe shall reach\n Just the spot, where Jormundgardur\n His enormous length doth stretch.\u201d\n \u201cAs for me, I fear no serpents,\u201d\n Thor replied, the fisher good;\n \u201cBoiling wave and howling tempest\n Only serve to cool my blood.\u201d\n\n Now he lifts with all his vigour\n Up the giant\u2019s anchor vast,\n Fixes the bull\u2019s head upon it,\n To his belt then makes it fast:\n One end fasten\u2019d to his body,\n Now it serves him as a line;\n Overboard he throws the anchor,\n Trusting to his skill divine.\n\n\n\n\nCANTO IX.\n\nTHOR\u2019S FISHING ADVENTURE.\n\n\n Lo! coil\u2019d in folds voluminous and vast,\n Behind huge beds of coral buried fast,\n Far in the deepest cavern of the sea,\n The Midgard serpent Jormundgardur lay!\n While o\u2019er him free and active sports the whale,\n He foams, and with vexation bites his tail.\n\n Full oft he strives to lift his frightful head\n Above the wave, and terror round him spread;\n But cased in boney rings and cartilage,\n Vain are his efforts, impotent his rage.\n Dozing amidst the sedge with half-closed eye,\n Oft has the deep re-echoed with his sigh.\n The dark blue billow from his vision shields\n The starry vault, the bright celestial fields:\n And as the bear, when angry, licks his paws,\n Thus oft he threatens, while his tail he gnaws:\n Oysters and muscles thickly cluster\u2019d deck,\n In guise of beard, the scaly monster\u2019s neck.\n\n Lashing the coast, his body mines the rock;\n The waters mount; earth feels the frequent shock;\n Nastrond wide gapes, and Hecla vomits smoke!\n With flames of joy the ice-crown\u2019d mountain glows,\n While down its side the liquid lava flows!\n\n There, while the wave drips from his shaggy mane,\n Lok\u2019s frightful offspring doth his post maintain:\n There doth he lie, and heave, and pant, and rock,\n Impatient for the day of Ragnarok.\n\n But lo! his sluggish eye he opens wide,\n And marks the Asa\u2019s bait before him glide:\n The bull\u2019s head floating \u2019fore his mouth he sees,\n And eager his fell hunger to appease,\n Prepares with swallow wide the tempting bait to seize.\n\n When at his belt Thor feels a vig\u2019rous pull,\n The snake has bitten, and his gorge is full.\n\n Thor towards him draws the belt: the serpent\u2019s head,\n With weeds, the growth of centuries, bespread,\n Must needs the will of Asa Thor obey,\n And rise perforce to view the light of day;\n The anchor to disgorge in vain he toils,\n And struggling hard in knots his body coils.\n In vain; Thor is a fisherman endow\u2019d\n With perseverance, strength, and hardihood;\n The serpent pow\u2019rless with extended jaws\n Must blindly follow, when the Asa draws.\n\n But when above the wave appears his head,\n Earth trembles with astonishment and dread;\n The sky is overcast with sudden gloom,\n And mix\u2019d with sand the billows swell and foam.\n When high in air protrude his long fore-teeth,\n All nature shrinks, infected by his breath:\n Small is his left, and large his dexter eye;\n His scales present a many-colour\u2019d die:\n His jaws wide gape, his palate swells with pain;\n As wont, like fighting cock, he screams amain:\n The dryness of his throat with sultry heat\n Charges the air--now threatens to upset\n The fragile bark; but Thor around his loins\n Tighter and tighter still his girdle twines:\n Naught fears the god, whom heroes all revere;\n He puts forth all his strength, and shines without compeer.\n Towards him he pulls his prey with effort rude;\n The serpent writhes, his jaws are fill\u2019d with blood;\n The bark is swamp\u2019d; but lo! on shallow ground\n The chief already has a station found,\n And drags the monster forth from the abyss profound.\n The monster shakes and bellows; from his eye\n Shoot flames; but Thor, the fisher good stands nigh,\n And threatens Nastrond\u2019s brood with hammer lifted high\n When now the giant saw the danger grave,\n Thus with himself he reason\u2019d: \u201cI must save\n This serpent, for the sake of Jotunheim:\n For is it not foretold in mystic rhyme,\n At Ragnarok this snake with pois\u2019nous breath\n Thor, our arch-enemy, will crush to death?\u201d\n The wolf-faced giant, vex\u2019d his bark to lose,\n And anxious from the hook the captive snake to loose,\n His dagger grasping (fashion\u2019d \u2019twas with skill\n By the dwarf\u2019s labour) strives the belt to file;\n But Thor, with his vast hammer rising now:\n Strikes at the monster\u2019s head a fearful blow.\n Deep was the sound! the pines along the shore\n Scatter their leaves; and loud the billows roar!\n Fresh \u2019midst the murky skies the rainbow glows;\n Heimdal rejoicing loud his clarion blows!\n The rain comes hissing down, the lightning glares;\n The sun\u2019s bright eye, but lately fill\u2019d with tears,\n Bursts through the blanket of the dark, to view\n The Asa\u2019s valour, and his triumph too.\n\n On high now Thor his hammer lifts again:\n The giant shakes with fear; the serpent yells with pain.\n\n Though still the giant strives the belt to file\n With his sharp dagger, naught avails his toil;\n Now on the anchor he would fain essay\n His force; and, wading fish-like, bends his way,\n To where, still struggling hard, the hook-bound serpent lay.\n He puts forth all his strength, and files: the sight\n Makes Heimdal tremble, e\u2019en from Bifrost\u2019s height.\n\n Now dark as pitch become the heavens, for lo!\n Filed by the giant\u2019s steel, the anchor bursts in two!\n The serpent freed now sinks beneath the main,\n And hark! resounds a loud triumphal strain;\n \u2019Tis Loptur\u2019s[41] daughter, who the gods on high\n Insults with gibing laugh, and bitter mockery.\n\n Inland the giant towards his mountain flies:\n Up to his waist in water Aukthor cries,\n And fills with imprecations dire the skies.\n\n Now through the yeasty wave he wades; his rage\n And deep vexation nothing can assuage:\n He hurls his lightning o\u2019er th\u2019 affrighted main,\n And still he hopes, and thinks the monster serpent slain.\n\n The serpent \u2019midst the rushes roll\u2019d and raved,\n Severely wounded, though his life was saved:\n Again his crest he raises, on the rock\n Again he lies, and waits for Ragnarok.\n\n Now in his fury Thor his hammer threw\n After the serpent: deep the nib pierced through\n The monster\u2019s flank; the gods beheld with pain\n Such glorious feats of strength deploy\u2019d in vain.\n\n Now Thor without his hammer homeward hies:\n Between the serpent\u2019s scales deep-buried Mi\u00f6lner lies.\n\n\n\n\nCANTO X.\n\nLOK BECOMES ENAMOURED OF SIF.\n\n\n With pensive look\n In Valaskialf sits Asa-Lok:\n His head hangs down; his spirits fail;\n To cheer him naught Valhalla\u2019s joys avail:\n The mead hath lost its wonted zest;\n S\u00e2hrimner\u2019s flesh he scorns to taste.\n\n Naught good his gloomy look betides;\n The Asar he unceasingly derides.\n Whene\u2019er on Asa-Thor he thinks,\n His dusky front in wrinkles sinks.\n\n \u201cOn fresh adventure art thou started,\n Thou mighty one!\n And this time all alone;\n Naught of thy plan hast thou to Lok imparted.\u201d\n\n He cannot easily digest\n Such slights: his soul can find no rest:\n Nowhere he feels at home:\n And longs once more through the wide world to roam.\n\n Tis flattering to his pride\n In arms to follow Asa-Thor,\n And carry, by the hero\u2019s side,\n The iron gauntlets of the god of war.\n\n As round the oak fast twining thrives\n The mistletoe, that supple parasite,\n And strength and growth therefrom derives:\n Thus Asa-Lok, the artful wight,\n Clings to the god, although with hate\n He views him; hoping some bright beam\n Of Thor\u2019s renown on him may gleam,\n And shed some lustre on his humbler state.\n\n As, gleaning from the sun its light,\n The moon dispels the gloom of night:\n Thus doth the cunning Loptur aim\n To shine with Aucthor\u2019s borrow\u2019d fame:\n While Askur\u2019s race know not the truth,\n And equal homage pay to both.\n\n He sits at th\u2019 entrance of a grot:\n A stream transparent murmurs near.\n To bathe in this sequester\u2019d spot\n The lovely Disar oft repair.\n\n By cowardice and treachery\n Alone is Loptur known to fame;\n The Disar all abhor his name,\n And ever from his presence fly:\n Love\u2019s arrows keen he oft doth prove,\n But never meets return of love.\n\n Now towards the brook th\u2019 Asynior pass;\n They dance in couples on the grass.\n With Siofna her beloved child\n See Freya dance in measure wild!\n See Eir Iduna fond embrace,\n And o\u2019er the mead the mystic circle trace!\n\n Now as in mazy rounds they wheel,\n Their robes fall off, and all their charms reveal.\n\n Now Loptur from his lurking place\n Gloats on each feature, charm, and grace;\n His ravish\u2019d eyes at leisure scan\n All that can tempt the heart of man:\n The semi-globes of each voluptuous breast,\n The well turn\u2019d haunches, and the slender waist:\n The Disar little thought that Lok\n Enjoy\u2019d the sight with prying look.\n\n Like swans they sail adown the stream,\n Attended by their handmaids fair:\n Like birds of passage now they seem,\n Who seek a softer clime and milder air.\n\n Now round each other\u2019s loins their arms they wreathe;\n Like wild ducks now they dive the stream beneath:\n Their snow-white arms they oft employ,\n Like fishes\u2019 fins, to stem the wave;\n The wave transported foams with joy,\n Such graceful-fashion\u2019d limbs to lave.\n\n But who of these in Loptur\u2019s eyes\n In beauty bears away the prize?\n Thor\u2019s consort, Sif, he most admires;\n For ne\u2019er his roving eyes could find\n Such beauty with such strength combined:\n His veins with wildest flames she fires.\n\n In charms this goddess yields to none,\n Except to Freya; she alone\n (To whom Alfader, when he meant\n To fill the world with ravishment,\n Gave life and being) doth surpass\n Fair Sif in beauty and in grace.\n\n Sif cannot boast that mild soft beam\n In th\u2019 azure eye, that melts all hearts,\n E\u2019en like the moon, when it imparts\n To beechen grove its silver gleam;\n Strong limb\u2019d and with majestic mien,\n She shines a lofty heroine;\n And Sif all tongues aloud proclaim\n A true high-minded northern dame.\n\n Her shoulders broad so milky white,\n Her juicy, plump, and well-turn\u2019d arms\n Are fit for love\u2019s or war\u2019s alarms,\n T\u2019 embrace, or to defend her right.\n These shoulders fascinate Lok\u2019s eyes,\n He views her with extreme surprize;\n Her haughty look excites in him\n A passion never felt before;\n With gloating eye he scans each limb,\n And sinks a slave to Astrild\u2019s power.\n\n The arches of her eye-brows meet;\n This would all other dames disfigure;\n But naught doth this her charms defeat,\n But adds to each peculiar vigour:\n For in her awe-inspiring gaze\n Her lofty soul itself pourtrays.\n\n Proud and indifferent to desire,\n No passion seems her breast to fire;\n Not small her hands, but dainty white\n Like swan\u2019s-down, or new fallen-snow;\n Her nails like polish\u2019d almonds grow;\n On well-turn\u2019d feet her tow\u2019ring height\n Securely stands; her hair loose streaming\n Down to her feet descends, with golden radiance gleaming.\n\n Behind the bush conceal\u2019d,\n Are all these charms to Lok reveal\u2019d.\n Then thus he thought: What pleasure should I prove\n To be encircled by such arms!\n To taste all those luxurious charms,\n And in the beechen grove--revel in joy and love!\n\n Close to my lips those coral lips I\u2019d glue,\n Those lips, which offer to my ravish\u2019d view\n Teeth fine as pearls, and whiter far, I trow,\n Than any beast of prey can show.\n\n What tumult fires my blood!\n Oh! that I could,\n While Thor is gone a-fishing far,\n Fish him to shame in the same bath with her!\n\n Thus thinks the lustful treach\u2019rous elf,\n And still behind the bush conceals himself:\n For Sif her dwelling soon will seek,\n Which lies midst Dovre\u2019s rocks so bleak,\n Where fir-trees undulate with many a spire:\n Her robes resuming quick, the Disa veils\n Each charm, while passion Loptur\u2019s breast assails\n With still increasing fire.\n\n She claps her helm her golden locks upon,\n Which, moisten\u2019d by the wave, less brilliant shone.\n Now far inland she climbs the mountain steep:\n Lok follows after cautious and unseen.\n Arrived at her abode in the sequester\u2019d glen,\n The rustling waterfall lulls Sifia soon to sleep.\n\n The wind invading now the bower\n With burning kisses dries her hair,\n And gives back to those tresses fair\n Their golden tinge and magic power.\n\n\n\n\nCANTO XI.\n\nCONVERSATION BETWEEN LOK AND SIF.\n\n\n LOK.\n\n Pardon the lowly slave of love,\n Whom thy enchanting form inspires\n Once more to plead in amorous strain!\n O that thy heart would deign to prove\n The fervour that my bosom fires,\n And urge thy will to soothe my pain!\n\n SIF.\n\n With cautious step draws near the thief,\n And dextrously he opes the door;\n The cunning mouse creeps through the hole:\n While Lok, the dark insidious chief,\n Steals to my couch at midnight hour,\n For never rests his lustful soul.\n\n LOK.\n\n To catch the fish the worm is held;\n The trap ensnares the artful fox:\n All to some tempting bait must yield;\n Lok is allured by female locks.\n\n SIF.\n\n To thy own wife, to Sigyn hie!\n In flowing locks descends her raven hair:\n Or Angurbod with fond caresses ply!\n She will not, sure, refuse thy couch to share.\n\n LOK.\n\n Whene\u2019er with thirst we languish,\n And no delicious fruit is nigh,\n The sourest apple to assuage our anguish\n We pluck, and swallow greedily:\n But when such charms as thine, O Disa dear!\n Before our ravish\u2019d eyes appear,\n Who would not?--but while thou in sleep\n Indulgest, Thor goes fishing on the deep:\n Thoughtless of home he braves the gale,\n And with the giant bobs for whale.\n While he that wild career pursues,\n Do thou a softer pastime chuse!\n With foliage soft is fill\u2019d thy bower--\n Love points--propitious smiles the hour.\n\n SIF.\n\n Hast thou forgot in Mimer\u2019s fane\n The banquet held? with amorous pray\u2019r\n My heart thou strovest to ensnare;\n What was my answer? cold disdain.\n I am not changed; and Sif bestows\n Once more contempt on all thy vows.\n But be advised, and quickly flee!\n Thor may return, and on a tree\n He\u2019d quick suspend thy odious form,\n To dangle in the midnight storm.\n\n The Disa spoke: indignant pride\n Inflamed her look; she turn\u2019d aside.\n And reckless of her suitor\u2019s pain\n To sleep address\u2019d herself again.\n Her golden tresses in profusion\n From the bedside hung streaming down,\n While Lok with anger and confusion\n Beheld all chance of conquest flown.\n But when her forehead\u2019s grove appears\n In sight, by vengeance fired, the shears\n He takes, and with malignant pleasure\n Lops from her head its golden treasure.\n\n Aloft the caitiff bears away\n With outspread wings his gorgeous prey!\n How meteor-like the tresses gleam,\n As through the murky heavens they stream!\n And falling down, where\u2019er he flew,\n Give to the corn its golden hue!\n\n Where\u2019er he flew, down fell the hair\n In flakes, and tinged with colour fair\n The peasant-maidens\u2019 locks, who dwell\n On Hertha\u2019s isle or Guldbrand\u2019s dale.\n Their locks of yore were black as jet,\n As Finnish women bear them yet:\n But now their tresses\u2019 golden die\n May well with Freya\u2019s, or with Gefion\u2019s vie.\n\n\nCANTO XI.\n\nLOK\u2019S CONVERSATION WITH SIF.\n\n _An attempt to translate the 11th canto in the alliterative\n metre of the Icelandic or ancient Scandinavian poetry,\n something in the style of the original._\n\n\n LOK.\n\n Forgive love\u2019s lowly\n Liegeman, O Sifia!\n Again thy beauty\n His bosom burns.\n O that my passion,\n Pleading for pity,\n Could chafe thy fainter\n Feelings to flame!\n\n SIF.\n\n Through holes creep rats\n Restless roving;\n The thief undoeth\n Dextrous the door;\n Sleep is not safe from\n The snares of Loki,\n Who with lust leering\n Lurks in my bower.\n\n LOK.\n\n With hooks bait-blinded\n Beguiled are fishes;\n In traps fallacious\n Oft foxes fall;\n By locks luxuriant\n Of lovely females\n Seduced, e\u2019en subtle\n Loki succumbs.\n\n SIF.\n\n Go seek thy own spouse\n Soft-hearted Sigyn,\n Wreathing in raven\n Ringlets her hair!\n Or to thy jet-black\n Giantess hie thee!\n She to thy wanton\n Wishes will yield.\n\n LOK.\n\n By hunger harass\u2019d\n Haws must content us,\n When no well-flavour\u2019d\n Fruit we can find.\n Be not disdainful,\n Delicate Disa!\n Hear with complacent\n Pity my prayer!\n\n On the high seas with\n Hymir, thy husband\n Sits in the wherry,\n Wheedling the whale:\n Or, of home reckless,\n Roves by the rivers,\n Intent the silv\u2019ry\n Salmon to snare.\n\n While he his own way\n Wilfully wanders,\n Do thou more pleasing\n Pastime pursue!\n Thy blooming bower is\n Bestrew\u2019d with foliage;\n The hour so long\u2019d for\n Lures us to love.\n\n SIF.\n\n Of Mimer\u2019s bounteous\n Banquet bethink thee,\n When thou to Sifia\n Sigh\u2019dst forth thy suit!\n This time again fate\n Frowns on thy frolic;\n Vain are thy vows to\n Vanquish my heart.\n\n Get thee hence, heartless\n Hater of Asar!\n Thund\u2019ring terrific,\n Thor travels home:\n To loftiest larch-tree\n Lash\u2019d, he\u2019ll suspend thee\n Mournful to moulder\n In midnight storms.\n\n Thus the disdainful\n Disa derided\n Her lustful lover\u2019s\n Languishing suit:\n Turning away from\n The fiend false-hearted,\n Sinks the fair Sifia\n Softly to sleep.\n\n But now the fraudful\n Felon\u2019s eye fixes\n From the bedside her\n Hair hanging down:\n From the head of Sifia\n (Seizing her scissors)\n Clips he its golden\n Glittering grove.\n\n Through airy regions\n Rapidly rising,\n Loptur licentious\n Launches his flight:\n Proud of his precious\n Prey, he deploys it;\n Like shooting star, he\n Scuds through the sky.\n\n Thus shone the recreant\n Ravisher roaming,\n Vaulting thro\u2019 veering\n Vapours of night:\n For though in murky\n Mists mourn\u2019d the heavens,\n Sifia\u2019s locks dismal\n Darkness dispell\u2019d.\n\n Where\u2019er he flew, in\n Flakes fell the hair down\n O\u2019er Hertha\u2019s fertile\n Flower-crown\u2019d fields;\n Stiff\u2019ning the wheat-stalks\n Wide-around waving,\n Yarely with yellow\n Gilding the green.\n\n Where\u2019er he flew, in\n Flakes fell the hair down.\n Gleaming on Guldbrand\u2019s\n Grain-cover\u2019d vale:\n Now on each lively\n Lassie it lowers,[42]\n Tinging with topaz\n Tresses of jet.\n\n Of yore in ringlets\n Raven-hued rolling,\n Their hair o\u2019ershadowed\n Shoulders of snow:\n Now they display their\n Tresses triumphant,\n Golden, like Gefion\u2019s,\n Like Freya\u2019s, fair.\n\n\n\n\nCANTO XII.\n\nLOK PROCURES THINGS OF VALUE FROM THE DWARFS.\n\n\n Lok sat in his hall and thought on his deed,\n With his vengeance well content;\n But Sif, o\u2019er the lake as she bow\u2019d her head,\n To a flood of tears gave vent:\n\n For no more in ringlets she now can wreathe\n Her hair so golden, so shining;\n When her face she view\u2019d in the stream beneath,\n She never could cease repining.\n\n But Lok sat under the green-wood tree,\n Like the cunning fox by his hole:\n Now the earth felt a shock, and began to rock,\n And the thunder began to roll.\n\n And well he knows what that sound betides;\n \u2019Twas a sign that Thor was coming:\n So, changed to a salmon, he quickly glides\n All into the flood so foaming.\n\n But Thor in the shape of a gull dived down,\n And the salmon he caught with his beak:\n \u201cThou knave,\u201d quoth he, \u201cwell I knew \u2019twas thee;\n Thou shalt bitter rue thy freak.\n\n \u201cI\u2019ll break and pound every bone of thine,\n As the mill-stone pounds the corn.\u201d\n Now Lok, resuming his shape divine,\n His mischief affects to mourn:\n\n \u201cWhy this rage?\u201d quoth he, with humble prayer?\n \u201cBy slaying me where\u2019s thy gain?\n Sif will not recover a single hair,\n Bald-headed for aye she\u2019ll remain.\n\n \u201cIf thou wilt forgive my frolic this bout,\n (\u2019Twas a sorry frolic, I own,)\n Why then I swear by leek and by crout,[43]\n By the moss on the Bauta-stone,[44]\n\n \u201cBy Odin\u2019s[45] eye, and by Mimer\u2019s fountain,\n By thy hammer and golden car,\n I\u2019ll straight descend to the caves of the mountain,\n To the dwarfs, who my vassals are.\n\n \u201cAnd for Sif a new head of hair I\u2019ll bring\n Of gold, before dawn of day;\n She then will rival the youthful spring\n All deck\u2019d in her flow\u2019rets gay.\u201d\n\n \u201cThou swear\u2019st by my hammer, but that I\u2019ve lost,\u201d\n Indignant the god replies;\n \u201cWhich well thou know\u2019st, in the ocean toss\u2019d,\n In the hands of Ran now lies.\u201d\n\n \u201cWell, then, I\u2019ll procure thee a hammer new,\u201d\n Says Lok, the deceiver sly,\n \u201cAnd at the bare sight of that hammer bright,\n All the giants, thy foes, will fly.\u201d\n\n \u201cThou pleadest in vain; I come with Frey,\n My brother in arms so brave:\n Thy flesh to the ravens shall food supply,\n Thy brains shall float on the wave.\u201d\n\n \u201cO spare me, Frey!\u201d thus Lok made reply,\n \u201cThy mercy I humbly implore;\n I\u2019ll procure thee a steed of such matchless speed,\n As the world never saw before.\n\n \u201cAll the earth around this courser shall bound,\n To mortals a cheering sight;\n And o\u2019er the salt sea \u2019twill bear thee free,\n And shine like herrings at night.\u201d\n\n Now the tears he shed and the vows he made\n Have soften\u2019d the Asar twain:\n \u201cGo, the depths to brave of the mountain cave,\n And, what thou hast sworn, obtain!\u201d\n\n Now like a mole through the rocky hole\n He glides, and reaches the place,\n Where with all their might, by the sulph\u2019rous light,\n Stood working the dwarfish race.\n\n There the bellows blew, and the sparks outflew\n Through the vaulted roof so glowing;\n In leathern frock stood the dwarfish flock,\n And crystals they all were blowing.\n\n They melted sand in the sea-coal brand,\n And mix\u2019d with it leaves of rose;\n By the furnace flame it harden\u2019d became,\n And a ruby proud arose.\n\n Now the females stout have gather\u2019d without\n Fresh bunches of violets blue;\n And the sapphire bright, to dazzle the sight,\n Was produced from the magic stew.\n\n From the juicy mass of concocted grass\n An emerald fashion\u2019d appears;\n And pearls they distill\u2019d from a limbeck, fill\u2019d\n With widows\u2019 and orphans\u2019 tears.\n\n In this cavern dark one could straight remark,\n That chieftains had play\u2019d of yore;\n For a table there stood, of muscle-shell good,\n And of counters and fish a store.\n\n In the rock inlaid was a giantess\u2019 head,[46]\n With the bust all changed to stone;\n And the cascade fell, with its deafening yell,\n All over the calcined bone.\n\n From the giantess\u2019 mouth jutting forth he saw\n Huge teeth, as frightful and long\n As those which fill the elephant\u2019s jaw,\n Or like those of the walrus strong.\n\n Now Lok to the dwarfs declares his mission,\n The dwarfs to his mandate bow:\n \u201cTo thee,\u201d they cried, \u201cwe all owe submission,\n For our sovereign, Lok! art thou.\u201d\n\n A wild boar\u2019s skin was then brought in,\n The largest they well could find;\n And with their bellows those hardy fellows\n To the work compel the wind.\n\n Now blow upon blow their hammers they throw,\n Till sparks from the skin outflew;\n But with envy\u2019s smart rankled Loptur\u2019s heart,\n And his purpose he \u2019gan to rue:\n\n \u201cTo those Asar two I\u2019m compelled, \u2019tis true,\n The things I promised, to give;\n But by Hel I swear, that those presents rare\n Unscathed they shall not receive.\u201d\n\n The dwarfs in a ring, round the anvil spring,\n And busy the bellows ply;\n But Lok, in his guile, became changed the while\n To a huge blue-bottle fly.\n\n On the blower\u2019s hand now he took his stand,\n And began his skin to prick;\n But he prick\u2019d in vain, the dwarf felt no pain,\n For his skin was hard and thick.\n\n But behold! the steed (\u2019twas for Frey decreed)\n Burst forth from amidst the flame,\n And the form it bore of a huge wild boar,\n And Gyllinb\u00f6rste its name!\n\n When dark is the night, and no stars give light,\n It a meteor\u2019s shape assumes;\n Then on it mounts Frey, and rides, through the sky,\n While its mane all the earth illumes.\n\n Now into a mould a handful of gold\n These workmen so skilful threw;\n But when drawn from the flame, O! then it became\n An ornament bright to view.\n\n For now \u2019twas a ring of burnish\u2019d gold;\n Two hands that each other grasp\n Were figured thereon, and a precious stone\n Was carved as a flower for clasp.\n\n \u2019Twas a jewel of weight; for Odin the great\n Was destined this precious ring;\n \u2019Twas a worthy charm, to encircle the arm\n Of the Asar\u2019s lofty king.\n\n This ring so bright boasts a wondrous might,\n \u2019Tis a fact in the north well known,\n That eight other rings, on each ninth night,\n From the parent ring drop down.\n\n Such rings are the meed, so Odin decreed,\n For each constant and loving pair;\n And this ring was found, at the funeral mound,\n On the bosom of Balder fair.\n\n Now more iron the crew on the anvil threw,\n No flame they for this required;\n And though black and cold, they hammer\u2019d it bold,\n Till they gave it the form desired.\n\n When the hammer for Thor, fit weapon of war,\n Drew near to its termination,\n Lok, fraudful in mind, and to mischief inclin\u2019d,\n Undertook a new transformation,\n\n And, changed to a hornet with painful sting,\n He stung the dwarf on the chin;\n And this time the smith felt the pain forthwith,\n For the blood flow\u2019d down his skin.\n\n And he drove the hornet away with his hand\n Ere the hammer was finish\u2019d quite;\n Thus its shaft fail\u2019d in length, but the god of strength\n Grasp\u2019d the weapon with keen delight.\n\n Next a female dwarf took a lump of gold,\n To her distaff\u2019s spindle she bound it;\n And the wheel went round with a whizzing sound\n And the gold in threads around it.\n\n And she span and span, while the gold thread ran,\n New hair for the Disa mild;\n She sang by the rill, that flowed from the hill,\n This strain so wizard and wild:\n\n \u201cThe goddess her hair henceforward shall bear\n Loose streaming before the wind;\n Nor in plait nor in fold shall the ductile gold\n Hereafter her temples bind.\n\n \u201cEach swain who above shall behold it move\n Like a meteor through the sky,[47]\n His heart \u2019twill ensnare, for her ringlets fair\n With those of Freya shall vie.\n\n \u201cThough gold be dead, when it touches the head\n Of that Disa in beauty\u2019s bloom,\n \u2019Twill life receive, and easy to weave\n Like flax will it straight become.\n\n \u201cLike the high-plum\u2019d crest by the winds carest,\n It shall wave and enchant the sight;\n It shall never decay; like the sun at mid-day\n It shall pour forth a wondrous light.\u201d\n\n Thus she sang, and with glee now she bent the knee,\n And presented the gift to Thor;\n He gazed on each tress, and must needs confess\n Such locks he ne\u2019er saw before.\n\n From the mountain Frey vaults his steed on high,\n Thor follows with hammer and hair;\n To the regions of light, where the sire of the fight\n Rules in glory, they both repair.\n\n Now on Sifia fair Thor fasten\u2019d the hair;\n It took root like sea-weed on rocks:\n Down her lovely face, fraught with ev\u2019ry grace,\n It fell down in luxuriant locks.\n\n At Valhalla\u2019s Ting to Odin the ring\n Was tender\u2019d with homage due;\n And Lok this time was pardon\u2019d his crime,\n But too soon he sinn\u2019d anew.\n\n\n\n\nCANTO XIII.\n\nTHE RAPE OF IDUNA.\n\n\n Odin, with H\u00e6nir and with Asa-Lok,\n Assuming human forms, once on a time\n To view the earth a journey undertook.\n Odin felt weary of his throne sublime\n On Hlidskialf, and he fain would rove\n Throughout the world, mankind himself to prove:\n While through the forest dark he bends his way,\n He gasps for breath, and feels himself but clay.\n\n O\u2019er mountains cover\u2019d with eternal snow\n They wander now, and now through Orkner\u2019s vale;\n Before them stood, perch\u2019d on the dizzy brow\n Of a projecting rock, huge as a whale,\n An ice-bear fierce! naught did the sight\n The travellers alarm; the monster fled,\n \u2019Midst heaps of snow to hide himself with dread,\n For inwardly he felt the Asar\u2019s presence bright.\n\n Thus they advance to where the snow gives way,\n And grass luxuriant grows, and flowers, and corn;\n The rocks, which now before them lay,\n Birch, pine, and larch, and various shrubs adorn.\n Ice-clumps upon the roof no more they view\u2019d,\n Where sleeps the dwarfish Lapp in gloom and smoke;\n But in the vales strong houses built of wood\n More polish\u2019d life and milder clime bespoke.\n\n No longer rolling in his sledge they view\n The dark-hair\u2019d Finn by nimble rein-deer drawn;\n The horses\u2019 hoofs here boast the iron shoe;\n The[48] Jarl\u2019s proud mansion on the well-trimm\u2019d lawn\n Tow\u2019ring arose, where lay in nuptial dress\n His youthful bride, all grace and loveliness:\n The lark with blithesome carol fills his throat,\n And silences at once the dark owl\u2019s screeching note.\n\n Down falling o\u2019er the grass, the dew of heaven\n With pearls besprinkles every flower and stem;\n Home crawl the peasant\u2019s geese by urchin driven;\n Oxen stand drinking at the limpid stream;\n He yokes them to the plough; then whistling, light\n Of heart, with many a furrow scars the field;\n While the three Asar on earth\u2019s bastion sit,\n Like warlike champions arm\u2019d with spear and shield.\n\n Then smil\u2019d the father of the fight,\n And said to Lok, who by his side was placed:\n \u201cMethinks, if I have read thy soul aright,\n The peasant\u2019s provender thou fain wouldst taste.\n Of hunger too myself I feel the power;\n By the long march fatigued, my spirits fail:\n From Vardoe we are come, in one short hour,\n To the dark birchen grove in Guldbrand\u2019s dale.\u201d\n\n Then laughing, Lok replied: \u201cBe sure,\n Since each ingredient\u2019s here at hand,\n A good repast Lok\u2019s genius will procure;\n Fat oxen in the meadow lowing stand;\n Like the red fox, give but the word,\n I\u2019ll hie me to the peasant\u2019s pantry board;\n To baste our meat his butter will I steal,\n At his expense we\u2019ll make a glorious meal.\n\n \u201cIn the meanwhile an ox must H\u0153nir slay,\n And with its tepid blood refresh the earth;\n Then with his dagger\u2019s point the carcase flay,\n While I steal bread from the good peasant\u2019s hearth.\n Some humble charge thou wilt perhaps consent\n To exercise, and think thereof no shame;\n To strike out sparks, for instance, from the flint,\n And with dry reeds and faggots feed the flame.\u201d\n\n Then Odin answered, sighing: \u201cAh! too plain\n I feel, I\u2019m clothed in human clay and dust:\n Men live by rapine; \u2019tis their trade accurst;\n And what one loses doth another gain.\n Go, then, employ thy nimble heel!\n Follow thy fav\u2019rite trade and steal!\n That we are gods did the good peasant know,\n He\u2019d slaughter all his herd, methinks, his zeal to show.\u201d\n\n Now H\u0153nir kill\u2019d an ox, and Loptur ran\n To th\u2019 pantry, where his store the peasant kept;\n Slily on tiptoe through each room he crept,\n And with fresh butter fill\u2019d his can.\n He then took bread made of the finest rye,\n In a white napkin wrapp\u2019d; and as he pass\u2019d\n The hen-roost, all the eggs that met his eye\n He snatch\u2019d up quick and in his basket placed.\n\n Meanwhile did H\u0153nir not remain\n Inactive long; with much dexterity\n He bound in cords and truss\u2019d the cattle slain,\n And fix\u2019d it \u2019gainst a trunk of osier nigh.\n He took the bowels out and stripp\u2019d the skin\n From off the flesh; then wash\u2019d away the blood\n From the fat-cover\u2019d thighs and ample chine,\n And with his prize content, exclaim\u2019d that all was good.\n\n But Odin, he who through the world\u2019s expanse\n Hath launch\u2019d the sun in sempiternal course,\n And lighting with his torch her golden lance\n Instructs her how to guide her matchless force;\n Who, from that sun borrowing her fainter rays,\n Hath to the moon a milder radiance given,\n And bade small sparks innumerable blaze\n Athwart the pole, when night envelops heaven:\n\n Now humbler functions Odin\u2019s labours claim;\n With flint and steel he now proceeds\n To elicit many a spark, and feed the flame\n With faggots, wither\u2019d branches, and dry reeds;\n And soon the smoke\u2019s white column rose\n In spiral motion from the burning straw.\n With conscious pride now Odin\u2019s bosom glows\n To mark the strict observance of his law.\n\n His glorious eye moisten\u2019d with many a tear,\n Thus he exclaims, with pride and joy elate:\n \u201cO wonderful in small things as in great,\n In what is distant as in what is near!\n In one small rain-drop equally divine,\n \u00c6gir! as in thy ocean: Odin too\n In one small flint-drawn spark doth equal shine,\n As when the sun\u2019s vast orb he launch\u2019d in ether blue!\n\n \u201cAnd Thor! when thou dost hurl thy lightning down,\n What dost thou more than I do now, my son?\u201d\n Now Lok return\u2019d with butter, salt, and eggs,\n Proud of his robbery and nimble legs;\n The weazles, foxes, rats, as he pass\u2019d by,\n Jump\u2019d from their holes and thus began to squeal:\n \u201cLo! there he goes, our god, so trippingly!\n Well doth he teach his subjects how to steal.\u201d\n\n Then Odin laugh\u2019d: \u201cThis loss will I repair,\n Lok\u2019s theft the honest swain shall not regret,\n For harvests thousandfold his fields shall bear;\n This for the stolen bread will compensate.\n His flocks and herds with wondrous increase fill\u2019d\n Shall for the butter make amends, I trow:\n And for the salt, on every child\n Of his will I prudence and wit bestow.\n\n While H\u0153nir to divide the carcase toil\u2019d,\n To a sharp spit a pine-branch Loptur filed;\n Then felling two small trees, firm in the ground\n One end he fix\u2019d; the other end he clove\n Of each, and on them turn\u2019d the spit around:\n Nor did he long delay his skill to prove;\n He skewer\u2019d each joint, then fed the flame, and plied\n The labours of the cook with joy and pride.\n\n While thus he stood watching each bubbling joint,\n To some short distance were his comrades gone;\n When he surmised the roast enough was done,\n He prick\u2019d it often with his dagger\u2019s point:\n Yet still dropp\u2019d from the flesh the tepid gore,\n As if it from a living creature came;\n And though the fire he nourish\u2019d more and more,\n Heavier and duller burn\u2019d the flame.\n\n Thwarted by such delay, he stands aghast,\n And ever and anon consults the sky;\n When lo! an eagle of dimensions vast[49]\n With threat\u2019ning aspect fix\u2019d his eye,\n With outspread wings, as midnight vapours dark,\n Perch\u2019d on the branches of an elm-tree lithe;\n Forth jutting from the leaves, its beak so stark\n Shone crook\u2019d and polish\u2019d as a reaper\u2019s scythe.\n\n As th\u2019 _ignis fatuus_ over marsh and mire\n At midnight a malignant radiance flings;\n Thus glared the giant bird with eyes of fire,\n And gazed upon the roast, and clapp\u2019d its wings.\n Behold a dire mischance the cook befell!\n Down fell the cloven trees! and with them fell\n The ox! the eagle still with frightful leer\n Gazed on the flame, which now went out from fear.\n\n \u201cWhy sitst thou there? by what accurst device\n Thus jugglest thou,\u201d said Lok, \u201cto spoil the meat?\u201d\n \u201cOf thy good cheer I fain would taste a slice,\u201d\n Answer\u2019d the eagle, \u201cfor my hunger\u2019s great:\n If then thou\u2019lt treat me as thy guest,\n Thy roast shall expeditiously be drest.\u201d\n Thus said, the bird his swarthy pinions shakes,\n And hops down from the tree, and gnaws the steaks.\n\n With bitter gall now swell\u2019d the breast of Lok;\n He grasp\u2019d in both his hands a pond\u2019rous spear;\n But vain his efforts all, as if he struck\n In the dark night the vacant air.\n The eagle\u2019s beak caught one end of the lance,\n While Loptur\u2019s hands fast to the other clung;\n High soar\u2019d the eagle through the heaven\u2019s expanse,\n While dangling to the lance his foe with terror hung.\n\n Borne by the goblin through the airy space,\n O\u2019er forest, hill and dale flies Asa Lok;\n Now dip his legs into the deep morass;\n Now strike against each sharp projecting rock:\n The frogs all grin, the eagle laughs aloud;\n Who feels compassion for a Nidding base?\n The marsh bespatters all his limbs with mud,\n And brambles, brakes, and thorns his features fair deface.\n\n Bruised by the rocks, now drip with blood his feet;\n He weeps; but cold the cliff beholds his pain:\n Against his bosom mercilessly beat\n The howling tempest, hail, and snow, and rain.\n Now in the ocean deep immersed he lies,\n A hedgehog like with mackerel bedight:\n Now borne aloft athwart the sunny skies,\n A swarm of bees upon his forehead light.\n\n Much did he pray and promise, but in vain;\n Now Thor invoked, now loud to Odin screech\u2019d:\n The goblin still pursued his course amain,\n Until a mountain\u2019s snow-clad top he reach\u2019d:\n He there with iron fetters strong and tight\n Bound fast the caitiff to a rugged rock;\n Then jeering cried: \u201cSit there, thou treach\u2019rous wight!\n Sit there, and groan in chains till Ragnarok!\u201d\n\n Then Lok with humble mien and piteous face:\n \u201cThou viewst me, I perceive, O chief! with hate,\n And I deserve it; how could I forget,\n That I too sprung from the brave mountain race?\n But if my arguments thou\u2019lt deign to hear,\n And give me back my liberty so dear,\n My cunning shall the Asar\u2019s strength enthral,\n And in one common ruin plunge them all.\u201d\n\n \u201cWell then!\u201d the goblin drily thus replied,\n \u201cIf I release thee from these realms of night,\n And give thee back to liberty and light,\n Wilt thou by my conditions strict abide?\n Then ponder well, and swear to my demand!\n Thou shalt procure, and place at my command\n That which is held in greatest estimation,\n The gods\u2019 best gift, since first the world\u2019s creation.\n\n \u201cBehold where Bragur\u2019s wife, Iduna hight,\n Dwells in her bower employ\u2019d in household care!\n Like shell of snail,[50] around her forehead bright,\n Is wreath\u2019d in many a fold her radiant hair;\n Straight as the poplar is her shape; her mien,\n Her varied grace, no words have power to tell;\n While bounding \u2019neath the silken veil so green\n The plump luxuriant snowy hillocks swell.\n\n \u201cA vessel rare of burnish\u2019d gold\n That Disa in her hands is wont to hold;\n From Asagard \u2019twas brought, where on the ground\n By Odin, Vil, and Ve \u2019twas found;\n Not easy \u2019tis the images portray\u2019d\n Thereon to guess; one reaps, another sows;\n The sun, emerging from dark vapour, glows,\n Charm\u2019d by the magic murmurs of a maid.\n\n \u201cAn apple in that vessel claims her care,\n Red as a rose, yellow as wax to view;\n A power divine reigns in that fruit so rare,\n The power, health, youth and beauty to renew.\n The influence of time is never seen,\n Or felt by those, who on that apple feast;\n And every Disa, who its juice doth taste,\n Maintains the bloom and freshness of eighteen.\n\n \u201cWithout this fruit so precious, where, Oh! where\n Would be their godlike strength, and beauty rare?\n Each goddess would resemble Hela grim,\n Did not this juice invigorate each limb.\n E\u2019en as each furrow on the sandy waste\n Is levell\u2019d by the wind, and disappears,\n Thus full and white becomes the flabby breast,\n As when the funeral mound its snowy vestment wears.\n\n \u201cJust as the spark ignites the branches dry,\n That juice gives lustre to the old man\u2019s eye:\n But for that drink, youth\u2019s fervid glow\n In Odin\u2019s veins long since had ceased to flow:\n Did not Iduna mingle every morn\n That apple\u2019s juice i\u2019 th\u2019 liquor brew\u2019d for Thor,\n The world his boasted strength would laugh to scorn,\n Spite of his belt, his gauntlets, and his car.\n\n \u201cNo raven\u2019s scream in Idun\u2019s grove is heard;\n Nor ever jars the ear the cricket\u2019s cry:\n For Asa-Bragur the celestial bard\n All nature animates with harpings high.\n Now towards the east he turns his fond regard;\n And when the sun, fresh bursting from the sky,\n Spreads o\u2019er the ravish\u2019d earth its magic shine,\n He strikes the golden harp, and chaunts a lay divine.\n\n \u201cCheer\u2019d by the glorious sound all creatures smile,\n From every flower and plant bright tear-drops flow;\n Then feels the earth a soft and holy thrill,\n And the spring blushes with a deeper glow;\n Then beats with love the maiden\u2019s heart still more;\n Then dreams of bliss the dying old man soothe;\n Immortal strains console his parting hour,\n And to bright Gimle\u2019s realm the awful passage smooth.\n\n \u201cIf in my power thou\u2019lt place the beauteous wife\n Of Bragur, with her vessel rare of gold,\n I\u2019ll give thee liberty again and life,\n And loose thee from this mountain-prison cold.\u201d\n \u201cWell then,\u201d quick answer\u2019d Lok, \u201cI swear, I swear.\u201d\n \u201cNay!\u201d Thiasse grim replied with bitter mock,\n \u201cThy ape-like oaths and vows thou well mayst spare;\n No one, be sure, will trust the oath of Lok.\n\n \u201cTo all an object of contempt and scorn\n Thee gods and giants equally despise;\n Mere froth and scum each oath by thee that\u2019s sworn,\n A cloud that into vapour melts and flies:\n No! vacillating traitor! fraudful swain!\n For thy good faith I must have surer ground:\n The peasant\u2019s dog is fasten\u2019d with a chain;\n With his own mouth shall Lok be bound.\n\n \u201cThe venom-swelter\u2019d serpent brood\n Their poison in their hollow teeth collect,\n And only then the venom takes effect,\n When, pierced the skin, it mingles with the blood:\n If from its gums each tooth be torn,\n Harmless becomes the snake and innocent;\n Around the neck, or arm, or waist \u2019tis worn,\n A strange, but still innocuous ornament.\n\n \u201cBut far more mischief, traitor! than the snake,\n Thou causest with thy sland\u2019rous tongue alone:\n Well, then! this trial I\u2019m disposed to make:\n Deprived of speech, thou shalt thy crimes atone.\u201d\n No sooner said than done, the giant took\n A diamond pin, steel thread; and now with glee\n Together fast he sew\u2019d the lips of Lok:\n Ye gods! in truth, \u2019twas droll to see.\n\n \u201cHold! hold! I faint--I die,\u201d said Lok\n With frightful howl--\u201cone word--I feel such pain--\n For mercy\u2019s sake--I cannot breathe--I choke--\u201d\n \u201cBreathe with thy nostrils! thou hast twain;\u201d--\n Answer\u2019d the giant: and with double seam\n Continued fast his captive\u2019s lips to sow,\n Naught caring for his piteous scream:\n This done, some magic runes he murmur\u2019d low.\n\n \u201cNow, then, I have thee safe: now, caitiff! hie\n To the green bower, where fair Iduna dwells!\n To my own hall i\u2019 th\u2019 hard-wood grove I fly,\n Where Cape North\u2019s granite front the surge repels.\n There bring to me forthwith my wish\u2019d for prey!\n Once in my arms the fruit and goddess lay!\n Then will I straight thy mouth unbind,\n And all our mountain race shall hail thee friend.\u201d\n\n Then of his own contrivance proud,\n And loudly laughing, Thiasse let him go.\n And now behold the once loquacious god,\n Dumb, spiritless, the lowest of the low!\n Like partridge, when by hawk pursued across\n The sky it flies, glad to escape within\n Its straw-built nest, though with the loss\n Of half its plumage, and with bleeding skin.\n\n But now, when near to Asa-gard arrived,\n Tortured in mind and raging with his smart:\n \u201cUnheard of (thus he thought), of speech deprived,\n How shall I now seduce a female heart?\n By cunning, not by force, must this be done;\n But how can I my cunning bring to pass?\n Who both as weak and dumb to all is known,\n Must ever for a hopeless blockhead pass.\u201d\n\n Much musing on his errand night and day,\n His brain a thought conceiv\u2019d that pleased him well:\n Could not a rune, carv\u2019d on a staff, convey,\n As well as word of mouth, a fraudful tale?\n Warm, unsuspecting is Iduna\u2019s heart;\n As genuine spouse of Bragur well she loves\n To listen to a strain that pity moves;\n And Lok is no small master of his art.\n\n He drew his knife, delighted with the plan,\n And cut a long stick from a neighb\u2019ring wood;\n His theme of lies he then forthwith began,\n And lied, as far, as the stick\u2019s length allow\u2019d.\n These were the runes he carv\u2019d. \u201cThere is a tree\n I\u2019 th\u2019 giants\u2019 orchard, on whose branches grow\n Apples of wondrous flavour, three by three,\n With tint, like the sun\u2019s purple blush on snow.\n\n \u201cThese apples a more powerful juice contain,\n Than those thou keepest in thy golden cup.\n This liquor rare could once the Asar drain,\n All Jotunheim before their arms must stoop.\n To hide that precious fruit from the world\u2019s eye\n Has been the giants\u2019 constant industry:\n Thus have they, to avert the menaced doom,\n Enwrapp\u2019d that grove in sempiternal gloom.\n\n \u201cBut a young giantess (O power of love!)\n Th\u2019 important secret hath to me reveal\u2019d,\n And shown the road to the mysterious grove,\n Where flourishes that glorious tree conceal\u2019d.\n But lo! while on our route, a goblin lay\n In wait for us behind the brazen wall,\n And, fearful we the secret might betray,\n Hath let on Lok peculiar vengeance fall.\n\n \u201cTo close my mouth the giant has thought fit\n With diamond needle, and with thread of steel;\n Yet naught his ruthless act, nor murmur\u2019d spell\n Hath power to damp my mother wit:\n That, thanks to Mimer, in the hour of need\n To Lok will never fail; that still is free:\n And thus upon this staff with speed\n The giants\u2019 secret have I traced for thee.\n\n \u201cIf with thy apple of eternal youth\n Thou wouldst attend me to the giants\u2019 grove,\n Then would the threads burst from my bleeding mouth,\n Without thy aid the task would idle prove.\n So sure and simple is the stratagem,\n I need not pluck those apples from their stem,\n Thou needst but touch them with thy fingers white,\n They\u2019ll instant fall into thy vessel bright.\u201d\n\n These runes he carv\u2019d, and with the staff he flew\n To th\u2019 arbour in the grove across the sea,\n Where sat Iduna with her eyes of blue,\n Under the shade of her own apple-tree.\n Mindful of wondrous scenes, she fix\u2019d her look\n Stedfast on every beast that wander\u2019d by;\n But most the graceful stag engaged her eye,\n Ogling his own proud form in the pellucid brook.\n\n A fountain bubbling near with eddying flow\n Fills the transparent stream: with motion fleet\n A cygnet scuds across, and at the feet\n Of his fair mistress makes obeisance low:\n There with her vessel sat the goddess meek,\n And fed her fav\u2019rite swan with crumbs of bread\n While ever and anon he plunged his beak\n Within the circles by the bread-crumbs made.\n\n Absent was Bragur; he Alfader\u2019s might\n Was chaunting in shield-cover\u2019d Valaskialf:\n With rapture listen\u2019d every Asa bright,\n And every Disa fair, and radiant Alf.\n Mimer had also left his fav\u2019rite care;\n Thus like an artless child Iduna lay,\n And unsuspecting fell an easy prey\n Into the treach\u2019rous Lok\u2019s malignant snare.\n\n His bleeding mouth with pity she beheld;\n And when to reinforce his runes of guile\n His eyes shed tears like those of crocodile,\n With grief oppress\u2019d her gentle bosom swell\u2019d:\n She reach\u2019d to him her hand so lily white,\n And spreading wide her feather\u2019d garment light,\n Wafted herself and Loptur far away\n Towards the dark hard-wood grove, where Thiass expectant lay.\n\n Soaring athwart the azure plains on high,\n Radiant was she and glorious to behold,\n As in the groves of Ind or Araby\n The bird of paradise with train of gold:\n When lo! a griffin black rush\u2019d from his lair,\n Pounced with his talons on th\u2019 affrighted fair,\n And bore her far away! the giants\u2019 scream of joy\n Re-echoed from the rocks to welcome their decoy!\n\n The Disa then too late her error found,\n And wept: the winds with zeal and love intense\n Waft down her tears to Ocean\u2019s caves profound,\n And there to pearls those precious drops condense.\n And when her last farewell Iduna sigh\u2019d,\n A mournful plaint re-echoed from the vale:\n The stagnant air blasts all the lily\u2019s pride;\n No more the roses\u2019 perfume scents the gale.\n\n A dew lethargic, noisome, humid, cold\n Around the heavens its veil malignant spread!\n And lo! the sun shorn of its rays of gold\n In midst of vapour stood with disk blood-red!\n And cold became the whilom jocund breast\n Of ev\u2019ry hero and of ev\u2019ry maid;\n Far towards the south the feather\u2019d songsters prest,\n And with them too all joy and gladness fled!\n\n\n\n\nCANTO XIV.\n\nTHE DELIVERANCE OF IDUNA.\n\n\n As vanish \u2019fore the wind the vapours light,\n Thus sinks each action of the human race\n Into th\u2019 abyss of sempiternal night;\n One billow sinks; another mounts apace:\n Alternate peace coquetting plays with war;\n Now in the sheath the glaive inglorious lies,\n And now with glitt\u2019ring menace flouts the air:\n \u2019Tis all a juggle--a butterfly, that hies\n Careless from flower to flower--pairs with its kind--and dies.\n\n Why boast in fight thy prowess, warrior wild?\n What was it? scum--mere froth upon the sea\n Of time--self-love impell\u2019d thee--fortune smiled--\n Thy docile troop must needs their Chief obey.\n But come, lay bare thy heart! and at the shrine\n Of truth confess! (concealment now were shame)\n Where is the merit of that act of thine,\n That made thee rival of thy father\u2019s fame?\n That thou didst death defy? Doth not a beast the same?\n\n Where Timour pulverized in days of yore\n Whole hecatombs of foes at Samarcand,\n The loose sand whirls in eddies as before.\n Nor of that triumph doth one record stand:\n The meadows still display their emerald sheen,\n Forgetful of the day, when frantic war\n With streams of blood incarnadined the green;\n No longer now the traveller\u2019s vision scare\n Huge piles of human sculls, long since dispersed in air.\n\n And who art thou whose quenchless thirst of fame\n Thus furiously lays waste th\u2019 affrighted earth?\n Not near so puissant as the nightly flame,\n Which the volcano\u2019s entrails vomit forth.\n The harden\u2019d lava-streams _its_ force attest,\n And though a thousand long long years have fled,\n Give to the swelling grape its poignant zest:\n Thy deed, like ashes, moulders with the dead;\n The ravens on thy fame, as on thy limbs, have fed.\n\n Yet do not thou crow neither, little gnome\n Who sittest in thy workshop snug, and filest;\n Who safe intrench\u2019d within thy rocky dome,\n Lookst down securely on the fight, and smilest,\n As looks the lamb upon the wolf below:\n Who thinkst the awl a better instrument\n Than Aukthor\u2019s hammer: thou requirest too\n Iduna\u2019s apple, if thou beest intent\n To reach thy labour\u2019s goal, and shine pre-eminent.\n\n Whoever, dwarf or giant, seeks to rise[51]\n From his low cave to genius\u2019 source divine,\n Let him towards thee, Iduna! lift his eyes,\n And view, where burning incense at thy shrine\n Bragur with Mimer, Balder, chaunt all hail,\n And in thy praise their lofty strains unite:\n No real hero will thy blessing fail,\n And future Scalds his actions shall recite,\n And o\u2019er his tomb describe an endless halo bright.\n\n How flat unprofitable life would flow.\n Unquicken\u2019d, Idun, by thy apple\u2019s zest!\n Deprived of Mimer\u2019s fount, how mean and low\n Were man\u2019s existence, by vile cares opprest!\n Dark Surtur chaunts the song of triumph loud,\n To see the lov\u2019d Iduna captive borne:\n While Lok, of his successful mischief proud,\n Joys in his heart to see the Asar mourn,\n And Valhall\u2019s glories fled, and Valaskialf forlorn.\n\n Now when the sun arose, by vapours foul\n Obscured, it fill\u2019d no bosom with delight:\n When the dull moon slow climb\u2019d from pole to pole,\n It heard no amorous plaint disturb the night.\n No longer travels with his car and goats\n The once aspiring Thor; now deaf to praise\n He throws aside his club; he raves; he dotes;\n While Hlidskialf, Odin\u2019s dome, shorn of its rays,\n No longer warms the earth with heart-consoling blaze.\n\n And Freya\u2019s bosom, once so proud to view,\n Now sinks like snow before the solar beam:\n Her golden hair assumes a silver hue;\n Her once blue eyes two gelid rain-drops seem.\n Heimdal, who on his rainbow stood betimes\n Shining amidst his seven colours bright,\n Discover\u2019d frightful witches mutt\u2019ring rhimes\n Of direst import, with black caps bedight,\n And wings, like those of bat, loud flapping in the night.\n\n With a lethargic mist they veil the sky,\n And summon Skada from her grot profound:\n While Niord, before whose lance all vapours fly,\n Rests in his cell, in magic slumbers bound.\n Now Skada, mounted on her glander\u2019d horse,\n Whose nostrils, frightful snorting, taint the gale,\n Each night uncheck\u2019d pursues her baneful course:\n Athwart the clouds her murky sisters sail,\n And with loud shrieks of woe th\u2019 affrighted earth assail.\n\n Each star now veils its front, which once in guise\n Of lamp illumed the heavens: the seaman bold,\n Who, sailing in the Kattegat,[52] defies\n The foaming billow and the tempest cold,\n Hath lost his rudder; and when in despair\n He to his anchor needs recourse must have,\n Behold! the cable stiff with frozen air\n Cannot be bent: death rides upon the wave,\n And stares with beamless eye, and shakes his icy glaive!\n\n When summer came, no sunbeam cheer\u2019d the vale;\n Like slave, the wretched swain must groan and sweat:\n His house, his tools, his clothing he must sell;\n His only thoughts were rye, and oats, and wheat:\n He had forgotten quite to bend the knee\n In humble duty fore Alfader\u2019s throne:\n His horse was far more dignified than he;\n He felt with inward pang, and needs must own\n His watch-dog\u2019s heart more warm, more faithful than his own.\n\n No longer now the warriors, as before,\n Sit at the board of their crown\u2019d chieftain high,\n Gentle yet awful, worthy sons of Thor,\n Soft temper\u2019d by the radiance mild of Frey:\n In scurrilous abuse and words of shame\n To jealousy and hate they now give vent;\n To slur and vilify his comrade\u2019s fame,\n More than to raise his own, each chief is bent;\n Ignoble quarrels mark their envious discontent.\n\n When the Scald sung, \u2019twas raving coarse and wild,\n No longer Gimle\u2019s inspiration sure;\n No longer from thy breast, O nature mild!\n He drew the milk so bountiful, so pure;\n His only nurses now were prejudice\n And discord, each a foul-mouth\u2019d envious quean:\n His aim is now, deep grovelling in vice,\n To please the multitude with jest obscene,\n To flatter or to mock, calumniate and feign.\n\n Once Saga sat, and on her shield engraved\n Each act of virtue generous, good, and great:\n Of graver and of buckler now bereaved,\n She pines, unconscious of the world\u2019s debate:\n The fond devotion to the public weal,\n The scenes of Nidaros and Leir in vain\n Crowd fore her eyes, and to her sense appeal:\n The heron of oblivion clouds her brain;\n Self-interest views the oak and laurel with disdain.\n\n Sage Mimer griev\u2019d the world\u2019s mischance to know,\n And Balder mark\u2019d it in his bright abode:\n With bitter tears see Mimer\u2019s fountain flow!\n The sap no longer gives the kernel food.\n And Balder, gentle-hearted as a maid,\n Visited Mimer in his cavern cold:\n At once the rueful change they both survey\u2019d:\n \u2019Twas night, and Balder sat with locks of gold,\n His once unruffled brow in gloomy wrinkles roll\u2019d.\n\n \u2019Twas easy to perceive all joy was fled;\n Each goddess had her youth and beauty lost.\n What wonder Mimer bow\u2019d his laurell\u2019d head,\n At such discovery sad, dishearten\u2019d, crost?\n What wonder Balder, once serene and meek,\n To omens dire should yield himself a prey?\n Hear him with quiv\u2019ring lip and hectic cheek,\n Grief in his heart, and madness in his eye,\n Rave incoherent strains, wild gazing at the sky!\n\n Now at the ash Yggdrassil[53] they alight,\n Whose branches o\u2019er the earth their shade extend;\n The holy tree, to which the Asar bright\n Down from the bridge of Bifrost all descend.\n There, as a shepherd watches o\u2019er his flock,\n Odin, enthroned as judge supreme, appears;\n Examines every cause with piercing look;\n Enacts new laws; pronounces doom; and hears\n What from the nether world his courier Hermod bears.\n\n In this immortal ash an eagle lives;\n All things it sees, and straight imparts the same\n To Odin\u2019s ravens:[54] but no longer thrives,\n Vigilant as before, its look of flame.\n Thick murky vapours an unwholesome veil\n Spread o\u2019er the tree, and glide with motion fleet\n O\u2019er rock, and marsh, o\u2019er forest, hill, and dale:\n The squirrel crouching at the eagle\u2019s feet\n Hath naught but rotten fruit and hollow nuts to eat.\n\n Balder and Mimer now direct their course,\n Passing that tree, to Urda\u2019s mystic stream:\n The forest path conducts them to the source,\n Which from the rock bursts forth with silv\u2019ry gleam:\n Fragments of stone with ivy overspread\n Choke up the passage to the silent dell,\n To all impervious, but the Asar dread:\n Berries and flowers the sacred fount conceal;\n Pine forests thick around each eye profane repel.\n\n But every growth was blighted! and behold\n On the stream\u2019s brink the Norna Skulda sat,\n With finger on her lips, and aspect cold,\n The awful guardian of the book of fate:\n Omniscient queen, whose mind can fathom all\n That to Alfader\u2019s self remains unknown.\n Enormous wings adown her shoulders fall:\n A fillet broad upon her forehead shone,\n With many a mystic rune and strange device thereon.\n\n Green was her garment; towards the fountain now,\n Now towards the days to come she turns her eye.\n Wrapp\u2019d in a sable shroud with tranquil brow,\n But with averted face, sits Urda nigh.\n Here with her sisters twain Verdandis too,\n Mistress of time, resides: her garment bright\n Was interwov\u2019n with scales of various hue.\n These females all are of gigantic height;\n None dare dispute their will; resistless is their might.\n\n Sleep never ventures here: the Nornor\u2019s eyes\n Do never close, whether the mid-day sun\n Or radiant stars illuminate the skies:\n Awake they sit, though motionless like stone.\n Urda the actions of the past unveils;\n Skulda the future cons with prudence meet:\n Meanwhile Verdandis weighs in golden scales\n The present gifts, the gods to send think fit,\n A sceptre or a grave; a triumph or defeat.\n\n Immovable they sit, mute as the grave,\n Like sphinx of marble on the Theban plain;\n While shine reflected in the limpid wave\n The figures of the awful virgin train.\n Impatient the decrees of fate to learn\n Oft to this grove the proud Valkyrior come;\n With questions sharp assail the Nornor stern,\n Then soar aloft, through the wide world to roam,\n And fill the troubled air with strange prophetic doom.\n\n Thus Mimer to the lofty Skulda spoke:\n \u201cO thou! who feelest neither joy nor woe,\n Hostile to none, friendly to none; whose look,\n Like that of falcon ardent, can pierce through\n The blackest night, whether the dove doth coo,\n Or the sword clash, alike unmoved; my prayer\n Do not reject! and O resolve me true\n The great enigma! shall Iduna fair\n Again, freed from her chains, respire her natal air?\u201d\n\n The virgin breast of Skulda swell\u2019d awhile:\n What marble seem\u2019d, now moved with high pulsation;\n She gazed on Mimer; and he thought, a smile\n Play\u2019d on her mouth; it gave him consolation.\n Urda\u2019s fount ceased to rustle through the dell;\n From Skulda\u2019s lips resounds this solemn strain:\n \u201cWhen bravery shall fickle time compel\n To constancy, and fast the recreant chain,\n Upon the wings of love health shall fly home again.\u201d\n\n She spoke. In sable clouds Night veils her brow;\n And sooth\u2019d with hope, Earth\u2019s bosom gently heaves:\n The fount calls to its water: \u201cSwell and flow!\u201d\n The blast loud whistles through the arid leaves.\n Homeward with joy now hie the Asar twain,\n For well the Nornor\u2019s speech they comprehend:\n They oft repeat the heart-consoling strain,\n While floating in the air they swift ascend,\n And eager still their course towards bright Valhalla bend.\n\n \u201cWhen bravery shall fickle time compel\n To constancy, shall health fly home again\n Upon the wings of love.\u201d Thus through the dell\n Re-echoed wide the solemn Nornor\u2019s strain.\n \u201cWhat other god but Thor can solve this spell?\n Juggler of time is Lok, we all agree;\n And Thor alone can Lok subdue--tis well--\n The Queen of Love preserves the prison key,\n \u2019Tis said, that Queen alone can set Iduna free.\n\n These words were ponder\u2019d oft the gods among;\n Thor seized their import; red as blood his cheek\n With anger, from his bench he quickly sprung,\n And grasp\u2019d the pallid Loptur by the neck:\n And lo! as round the spindle turns the wheel,\n When busy housewife spins her flax with glee,\n Thus Thor twirl\u2019d Lok around from head to heel;\n And now he touch\u2019d the moon, and now the sea,\n While at the caitiff\u2019s screams the gods laugh\u2019d heartily.\n\n \u201cThy being is a composition strange\n Of Asagard and Helheim (thus said Thor):\n Force must compel thee to repent and change;\n Thou must be shook like oil and vinegar,\n When in a vessel mix\u2019d: but, traitor! say!\n Ere from thy worthless trunk thy head be torn,\n Wilt thou amend? wilt thou my voice obey?\n Wilt thou, on the light wings of Freya borne,\n Bring back Iduna straight to Valaskialf forlorn?\n\n A coward and a traitor both is Lok,\n And want of firmness all his acts reveal:\n Fearful to be whirl\u2019d round again and shook,\n Lowly at Aukthor\u2019s feet behold him kneel!\n \u201cIf the bright Queen, the fairest of the fair,\n The lily, which adorns Folkvangur\u2019s plain,\n Freya, will lend her wings, I solemn swear,\n Spite of all spells, to loose Iduna\u2019s chain,\n And bring the goddess back to Asagard again.\n\n \u201cMy soul\u2019s resolv\u2019d; naught shall my purpose bend,\n The beauteous captive\u2019s suff\u2019rings deep I feel:\n Foul Thiasse was to blame; by him constrain\u2019d\n Was I the goddess and her vase to steal.\n But o\u2019er the forest\u2019s pines and ocean\u2019s wave,\n Cloth\u2019d like a bird with gentle Freya\u2019s wing.\n I\u2019ll hie me swiftly to the giant\u2019s cave.\n And back in triumph fair Iduna bring:\n Health, youth, and strength again in Valaskialf shall spring.\u201d\n\n To fetch her pinions Freya was not slow;\n Her hands to fix them on Lok\u2019s shoulders deign.\n Aye, and much more would she have giv\u2019n, I trow,\n Her own lost youth and beauty to regain.\n Now Lok for his past conduct feeling shame,\n And mindful too of Thiasse\u2019s bitter mock,\n O\u2019er hill and dale, and marsh, and forest, came\n To where, deep in the bowels of the rock,\n The fair Iduna sigh\u2019d, conceal\u2019d in gloom and smoke.\n\n But in the dark Lok finds his way most sure:\n Naught was he daunted by the giant\u2019s spell;\n On Freya\u2019s wings relies the god secure,\n Which time defy, and brave the power of steel.\n His course he steers, thorns, brakes, and briars among;\n Now like an owl he has recourse to flight;\n Now like a cat he needs must creep along.\n At length the secret cave appears in sight,\n Where rocks piled upon rocks conceal the treasure bright.\n\n Immers\u2019d in grief the fair Iduna sat\n Like marble statue on a monument;\n Upon the sea of time so desolate,\n Which never ebbs, her look despairing bent.\n But spite of every hindrance, Asa-Lok\n Into the gloomy cavern forced his way,\n Where pined the Disa fetter\u2019d to the rock:\n Some words of comfort scarce he stopp\u2019d to say,\n But caught her in his arms, and bore her far away.\n\n While they together flew o\u2019er land and sea,\n Behold! a bale fire vast illumes the north!\n \u2019Twas Asa-gard whence Odin, Vil, and Ve\n Sent messages to Lok o\u2019er all the earth.\n But now blest tidings all Valhalla cheer:\n Iduna, borne by Lok, arrives in view!\n Scarce did the nymph in Odin\u2019s dome appear,\n Away all care and pain and sorrow flew;\n Each flow\u2019ret oped again its chalice to the dew.\n\n The lark now sang; each goddess felt the charm;\n Again their bosom with youth\u2019s fullness swell\u2019d:\n Odin again felt vigour in his arm,\n And Thor once more aloft his hammer held.\n Again the sun lent to the moon its gold,\n And lit anew the radiant rings on high.\n Mimer no more his brow in wrinkles roll\u2019d:\n Balder no longer, madness in his eye,\n Raved incoherent strains, wild gazing at the sky.\n\n And lo! obscures the sky a vision vast,\n Awful, but not unpleasing to behold!\n \u2019Tis Thiasse! who his prey pursuing fast\n Hath become dazzled by the bale-fire\u2019s gold.\n He flutters round it long with sable wings;\n E\u2019en as the moth, attracted by the fire,\n Into the flame abrupt its body flings;\n Th\u2019 enormous Jotun-fly doth thus expire,\n By his own impulse hurl\u2019d against the blazing pyre.\n\n E\u2019en so doth every frightful vision dire,\n Which terrifies mankind i\u2019 th\u2019 hour of night,\n Dissolve, when blazes forth the gorgeous pyre,\n Which from the east dispenses warmth and light.\n And thus the genial dew, which falls in spring,\n Sheds tears of gladness on each plant around:\n And every lively bird doth tuneful sing,\n Inspired with joy, like Bragur, when he found\n His darling wife once more in his embraces bound.\n\n\n\n\nCANTO XV.\n\nTHE VANER.[55]\n\n\n Ere in days of yore the lofty Asar\n Schemes of conquest to devise began,\n Ruling their ancestral mountain region\n Near the plains of bounteous Ginnistan;[56]\n Ere they, on proud coursers prancing,\n Scorning danger, sallied forth,\n Giants quelling,\n Dwarfs compelling,\n Towards the granite strong-holds of the North.\n\n Oft with friendly mien the peaceful Vaner\n With them sought alliance to cement:\n \u2019Twas the Vaner taught the race of Odin\n Art and science, life\u2019s best blandishment:\n Taught them to root out the thistle,\n And with flowers to deck the field;\n Then to prove\n Faith and love,\n Niord the horseman swift as hostage yield.\n\n Drought severe oft forest, vale and meadow,\n Suffer\u2019d from the ardent solar flame;\n But no sooner Niord bestrode his courser,\n Fresh and cool the air at once became:\n He dispels each noxious vapour,\n Paints the sky with azure hue;\n Precious arts\n He imparts,\n Nature to adorn and strengthen too.\n\n By his sister he became the father\n First of Frey, and then of Freya fair;\n By the Vaner\u2019s law he chose his consort,\n Such a tie is not illicit there.\n Both were lovely, joy\u2019d to kindle\n In man\u2019s breast the amorous flame:\n Such a nation\n Still keeps station\n On Caucasian steeps, with well-earn\u2019d fame.\n\n Now behold the dynasts of Valhalla\n Swift their course from Asia\u2019s valleys bend,\n Southern fire and Orient\u2019s lofty genius\n With the North\u2019s more sober blood to blend!\n Naught their earnest wish concealing,\n Niord their soft entreaties gain:\n Straight doth Niord[57]\n Pledge his word,\n And with son and daughter join their train.\n\n Odin spake: \u201cTh\u2019 unconquer\u2019d North invites us\n With her fir-clad mountains wild and drear!\n There the beechen forest waves majestic,\n Redolent with Ocean\u2019s healthful air!\n Thither will I lead my Asar,\n On those rocks my legions spread:\n Thou, O Thor!\n During war.\n During peace shall Odin take the lead,\n\n Planting on each isle and rock their banner,\n Shall our bands victorious still advance:\n On those rugged cliffs shall oft give battle;\n Oft our skiffs on foaming billows dance.\n Think! when with the force of iron\n Mingles Orient\u2019s genial flame,\n What a race,\n Full of grace,\n Rising there, the world\u2019s applause shall claim!\u201d\n\n Joyful on his winged courser mounted,\n Niord for the whole army clear\u2019d the road;\n Drying up each marsh, each mist dispelling,[58]\n Fearless through impervious wilds he rode.\n Never weary, flying, swimming,\n Proud his steed pursues his course:\n Winds compelling,\n Skiffs propelling,\n Nature bows to Niord\u2019s resistless force.\n\n Glorious to behold was Niord the hero,\n As he pranced along the meadows gay:\n Graceful through the sky his courser\u2019s pinions\n Floated like a dream i\u2019 th\u2019 morning grey:\n Quick he views, and leaves as quickly,\n All he finds, both far and near:\n With bright beams\n Proudly gleams,\n Perch\u2019d upon his helm, the morning star.\n\n Of your aid deprived, O skilful Vaner!\n What were in the north the Asar\u2019s power?\n What would then avail thy wisdom, Odin?\n What avail thy boasted strength, O Thor?\n Frey midst thorns and brakes and briars\n Flax and corn benignant sows:\n On mankind,\n Ever kind,\n Freya offspring beautiful bestows.\n\n She herself obtain\u2019d a handsome bridegroom;\n Odur was he call\u2019d on India\u2019s plain:[59]\n On the banks of Ganges first she met him,\n Tow\u2019ring midst a numerous warlike train:\n Crown\u2019d with garlands, hymns reciting,\n Swains and maidens round him throng:\n With loud crash\n Cymbals clash:\n Rocks re-echo the triumphal song.\n\n See him on his golden car high seated\n Drawn by lions and by tigers strong!\n These, compell\u2019d by his heroic valour,\n Humbly drag his chariot wheels along:\n Laurel wreaths aloft extending,\n Nymphs precede the car and sing;\n Drum and flute,\n Lyre and lute,\n To the chaunt their aid harmonious bring.\n\n From the dark recesses of the forest\n Started forth the grim ferocious bands!\n Ravish\u2019d at the sound of drum and cymbal,\n With delight they danced and clapp\u2019d their hands.\n Odur by the crystal fountain\n Stopp\u2019d them in the shady glen;\n There he tamed,\n And reclaimed\n To the arts of peace those savage men.\n\n Now on every slope and sun-tipp\u2019d mountain\n Most exposed to Muspel\u2019s genial heat,\n Near the wave, the branches green he planted,\n Which produce the raisin\u2019s treasure sweet:\n Soon from him the valley\u2019s children\n Learn the art to press the vine:\n From its blood,\n Grateful food,\n Love finds nurture for its flame divine.\n\n In the grove the amorous god presented\n To the goddess bright the jovial bowl:\n Clust\u2019ring grapes and leaves adorn his forehead;\n Pleasure-breathing looks reveal his soul:\n Smooth his limbs like those of woman,\n Still a vigorous male was he:\n Yet the fair\n Disa\u2019s hair\n Bound him fast, and made him bend the knee.\n\n From the trees so green the birds delighted\n Mark each fond caress, each amorous freak;\n How she with her hands of alabaster\n Fondly pats the hero\u2019s sun-burnt cheek:\n Like the billows\u2019 foam, her bosom\n Proudly swell\u2019d, exposed and bare:\n Every flower\n Witness bore\n To the transports of the beauteous pair.\n\n Freya now became the spouse of Odur;\n Seldom could the lovers separate.\n When the Asar from their old dominion\n Sallied forth to found the northern state,\n In his chariot drawn by leopards\n Odur seated with his spouse\n In his arms,\n On her charms\n Gazing ever, plights eternal vows.\n\n Much it cost the hero to relinquish\n Such a land, the parent of the vine:\n But who would not, far beyond the raisin,\n Prize a lovely female\u2019s charms divine?\n Still he took his vine-plants with him,\n Mindful of his precious art:\n Oft in glowing\n Cups o\u2019erflowing\n Odur\u2019s gift refreshes Odin\u2019s heart.\n\n Thus, while all the other gods of Valhall\n Drain the goblet fill\u2019d with mead and ale,\n Odin with the apple of Iduna,\n Or with wine, enjoys his best regale:\n And when Odur fled from Freya,\n \u2019Scaping from the gelid north,\n He bestow\u2019d\n On the god\n What he deem\u2019d the gift of greatest worth.\n\n How could he forget the lovely Disa\n After such enjoyment rich and rare?\n How thus tear himself away unfeeling\n From a bosom so divinely fair?\n Yet he\u2019d oft, in bliss dissolving,\n Term his spouse his greatest treasure:\n With delight\n On that night\n Oft he thought entranced, and wept with pleasure.\n\n But when Thiasse carried off Iduna,\n Vanish\u2019d every trace of Freya\u2019s bloom;\n Old and wrinkled, flabby and repelling\n Was the Disa, once so fair, become:\n From the couch he leap\u2019d in anger,\n Drew his sword in wild alarm:\n O confusion!\n Curst delusion!\n Vainly now he seeks each wonted charm.\n\n \u201cIs it thus thou hast deceiv\u2019d thy lover?\n Ugly witch!\u201d disdainful thus he said:\n \u201cGrace of birth divine and youth perennial\n Didst thou feign to lure me to thy bed?\n But the mask hath dropp\u2019d--I find not\n Of thy charms one single trace:\n Old in mien,\n Shrivell\u2019d, lean.\n How canst thou unblushing show thy face?\u201d\n\n Naught avail\u2019d the tears of Freya: Odur\n Fled disgusted from her nerveless arms.\n Where he once such poignant pleasure tasted,\n Where he revell\u2019d in celestial charms.\n There he left his car and leopards:\n Freya sits, to grief a prey,\n Sad, despairing,\n Wildly staring\n At the heaven\u2019s expanse, or dark blue sea.\n\n Never more the Asar race beheld him;\n To his Vaner he return\u2019d again.\n Golden tears now shed the wretched Freya,\n When she gazed upon the stormy main.\n Though she found again her beauty,\n Odur never more she found:\n Tears of woe\n Constant flow\n From her eyes: the groves her plaint resound.\n\n When the apples of the fair Iduna,\n Fruit of health and youth, were found again,\n Much it griev\u2019d Valfader\u2019s heart to notice\n Beauty sorrowing on her couch in vain:\n Straight he sent in search of Odur\n Hermod with his magic spear.\n Now his fate\n I\u2019ll relate,\n If my harpings ye will deign to hear.\n\n Odur hied him to the grove of laurel,\n Where first Freya met his amorous glance:\n Vain the satyrs with their music greet him;\n Vain voluptuous damsels round him dance:\n Callous now to all about him,\n Dwelling on his loss severe,\n Much he groan\u2019d,\n Wept and moan\u2019d\n In the sandy waste, forlorn and drear.\n\n Grapes and vine-leaves from his brow depending,\n Now with vacant gaze he fixes heaven:\n In the spring of youth thus solitary,\n Swim his eyes, with melancholy riven.\n Sweet illusion charms his spirit;\n Yielding to the frenzy bland,\n Lost in dreams\n Still he seems,\n On his bosom ever press\u2019d his hand.\n\n Hermod, from behind the bush advancing,\n Touches Odur with his magic wand:\n Straight transform\u2019d e\u2019en to the very marrow\n See him now a marble statue stand!\n To this day through Asia roving,\n Him, \u2019tis said, the Scald hath found\n Thus alone\n Changed to stone\n In the forest, still with vine-leaves crown\u2019d.\n\n For the death of her beloved Odur\n Deeply Freya mourns with grief sincere:\n In the ecstacy of melancholy\n Down her lovely cheek flows many a tear:\n Oft her heart\u2019s profound emotion\n Pours she in each lover\u2019s breast;\n Pleasing thrill,\n Flowing still,\n Painful longing! from thy poignant zest.\n\n\n\n\nCANTO XVI.\n\nTHE NUPTIALS OF SKADA.\n\n\n While captive pined Iduna, Valhalla seem\u2019d a grave;[60]\n A fruitful isle was swallow\u2019d by the remorseless wave;\n In each nook of the palace, each god, morose, alone,\n Sat looking straight before him, as motionless as stone.\n\n No longer the Einherier, eight hundred at a time,\n In the arena skirmish for Odin\u2019s prize sublime;\n They now no longer sally from Trudvang\u2019s brazen port,\n To give wounds and receive them, in Hildur\u2019s[61] fav\u2019rite sport.\n\n They cease the glaive to brandish; their blood no longer flows;\n They spring not up with laughter from the well-levell\u2019d blows:\n Nor roast flesh of S\u00e2hrimner with appetite assail;\n Nor drain the horn capacious, brimming with mead or ale.\n\n No more in Freya\u2019s garden are faithful lovers seen,\n In ecstacy conversing under the bowers so green:\n By passion warm\u2019d no longer, they to the fountain throng,\n Nor listen by the moonlight to Philomela\u2019s song.\n\n No more Hagbarth and Signe, when the blue wave beneath\n The sun descends, now descant on their heroic death,\n When they, upon love\u2019s pinions, were wafted from the vale\n Of bitter care and sorrow to bright Gladheimasal.\n\n While Valaskialf is shrouded by mists and noisome dews,\n In th\u2019 absence of the apple, that youth and strength renews,\n The giants, wild rejoicing, in arms all ready stand\n To lay waste proud Valhalla with vengeful sword and brand.\n\n The first who thought on vengeance with helm and buckler bright\n Was giant Thiasse\u2019s daughter, mischievous Skada hight:\n Clad in her brazen armour, to Valhall\u2019s gate she came,\n And knew not that her father had perish\u2019d in the flame.\n\n This female was to Freya unlike in mind and grace,\n Yet wit she had and vigour, nor homely was her face:\n When mounted on her courser in the dark stormy night,\n Under her sable head-dress her eyes gave dazzling light.\n\n Though with impure old witches she revels in the wood,\n Yet she herself was blooming in health and youthful blood:\n On her fair cheek the tempest the rose\u2019s hue bestow\u2019d;\n Her hair adown her shoulders in jetty ringlets flow\u2019d.\n\n Like two white foaming billows her bosom swell\u2019d half-bared;\n Her arms smooth and well-rounded; her flesh was plump and hard:\n Like the storm-wind in temper, capricious, wild and proud;\n Fearful the rocks re-echo, whene\u2019er she scolds aloud.\n\n But when she came to Vingolf, her anger vanish\u2019d quite:\n She view\u2019d with admiration the fair-hair\u2019d sons of light;\n With love her heart beat wildly, when Balder came in view;\n With rapture fill\u2019d her bosom his eyes so soft, so blue.\n\n Those eyes, \u2019tis true, lack\u2019d lustre; the cause ye well may guess,\n \u2019Tis since Iduna\u2019s apples no more the Asar bless.\n Shouts Skada: \u201cPeace I offer, and all my wrongs forgive,\n If Balder fair as husband, Odin to me will give.\u201d\n\n That Skada might not sicken from unrequited love,\n They bound her eyes, and bade her her skill in coursing prove:\n \u2019Twas Odin\u2019s own proposal. \u201cBegin the sport,\u201d quoth he;\n \u201cWhom[62] she blindfolded catches, shall Skada\u2019s husband be.\u201d\n\n Now like a sea-bird flutt\u2019ring, the black-hair\u2019d virgin stout\n Rustled, and breath\u2019d like whirlwind the spacious hall about:\n The gods draw back; now forward they move; now halt, afraid;\n No easy task they found it to shun the giant maid.\n\n Though far more skill and swiftness th\u2019 Asynior all could boast,\n Before Iduna\u2019s treasure was to Valhalla lost,\n Yet Skada now excels them; she jumps about as brisk,\n As silver-scaled fishes through billows glide and frisk.\n\n A pair of legs now catching, she laugh\u2019d and straight began\n Their measure and proportion with eager hand to scan:\n She much admired the ankle, the powerful calf, the foot;\n These well-turn\u2019d limbs, thought Skada, a happy prize denote.\n\n At first she thought \u2019twas Balder: she utter\u2019d not a word,\n But rising, tore her band off, and saw that it was Niord:\n She burst into a loud laugh, which caused the walls to shake,\n And pressing to her bosom her captive, thus she spake:\n\n \u201cHa! we shall suit each other; in truth a well-match\u2019d pair:\n As soon as with her apple returns Iduna fair,\n Begin once more thy blowing! I\u2019ll raise the wind by night:\n In tempers diff\u2019rent moulded, by turns we\u2019ll prove our might.\n\n \u201cOn gold-maned Skinfax mounted, thou shalt prevail by day:\n At night, upon dark Hrimfax, will I pursue my way:\n With flowers thou lov\u2019st to dally; to barren rocks I cling:\n Health to the north thou bringest; I Skada mischief bring.\n\n \u201cIn summer and in autumn, then are thy seasons meet;\n My vapours thou dispersest, and coolst the sultry heat:\n Then I, on skaits, o\u2019er Finnmark with bow and arrow fly,\n And through fog, sleet and snow-storm my course unseen I ply.\n\n \u201cWith cricket on thy shoulder, with beechen branch in hand,\n While nightingales sweet singing upon thy helmet stand,\n Thou ridest on thy courser, o\u2019er forest, hill and dale,\n With rays of light proceeding from his long mane and tail.\n\n \u201cShort mane and tail hath Hrimfax; he\u2019s black and small in size:\n Hoar frost clings to his nostrils; his breathings chill the skies:\n But fearful are his neighings; and when he rears, then mark!\n Unroof\u2019d becomes each dwelling, unmasted every bark.\n\n \u201cMe gulls and sea-mews follow with shrill ear-piercing cries;\n The Mermaids from the water, at my command, arise:\n The seal jumps in the billow, when I am close at hand;\n He dares no longer sun him upon the rocky strand.\n\n \u201cDost thou not comprehend me? thou seemst to hesitate:\n Hath not \u00c6gir a consort i\u2019 th\u2019 ocean with a net?\n Is not \u00c6gir an Asa? is not Ran giant-born?\n Why then shouldst thou of Skada reject the love with scorn?\n\n \u201cHow long \u2019twixt gods and giants shall last the hateful feud?\n \u2019Tis time, methinks, the quarrel to end with ties of blood:\n \u2019Twill soon to peace eternal all obstacles remove,\n If thou to me wilt promise fidelity and love.\n\n \u201cThe bitter must be mingled with all that is too sweet,\n And life recall to living what lies in death\u2019s retreat;\n Joy must with grief alternate; night shift the rule with day;\n The herring shoals, when shining, become of whales the prey.\n\n \u201cNot every plant can flourish; thus were the cherry-tree\n Ever from storms protected by the wall\u2019s friendly lee,\n Did not the wind its blossom scatter around like snow,\n Its trunk would soon be rotten, the tree soon cease to grow.\u201d\n\n By such convincing reasons the wavering god she plied:\n At the command of Odin the marriage knot was tied.\n But Idun still was absent; dull pass\u2019d the nuptial feast;\n Each Disa mourn\u2019d; but Freya wept more than all the rest.\n\n Hoarse was the voice of Bragur; the mead-horn ceased to cheer:\n A knife lay in Frey\u2019s bosom; the cause ye soon shall hear:\n He greeted not his father, but sorrowful in mood\n He to the height ascended, where Hlidskialf\u2019s castle stood.\n\n On Hlidskialf\u2019s tower so lofty stands Odin\u2019s mystic throne;\n From thence all the world\u2019s actions are to his eye made known:\n No other god but Odin dare mount that awful seat;\n Frey on that day, however, this rule seem\u2019d to forget.\n\n He fix\u2019d the royal garland in thought upon his head,\n But half its wonted splendour with Idun\u2019s fruit was fled:\n There gazed he, sad and pensive, o\u2019er mountain, rock and field;\n And now my rhimes shall tell ye, what there the god beheld.\n\n\n\n\nCANTO XVII.\n\nTHE AMOUR OF FREY.\n\n\n A spacious chamber met his eyes hewn in the cavern grey;\n Therein reclining on a couch a beauteous damsel lay:\n In slumbers light indulged the maid so innocent and meek;\n The blush of morning tinged with red her alabaster cheek.\n\n Careless reposed her graceful arm across her forehead bright,\n Her raven locks in ringlets twined between her fingers white;\n Her small white hand quite buried seem\u2019d i\u2019 th\u2019 streaming coal-black hair,\n Thus doth a lamb behind the leaves of a dark bush appear.\n\n E\u2019en as a serpent coiled within the lily\u2019s chalice rests,\n Thus curl the silken jetty locks adown her swelling breasts:\n As loving as two sisters kiss, thus kiss the lips of rose;\n But proudly from each other turn away the breasts, like foes.\n\n Tow\u2019ring the slender waist above, each claims preeminence;\n But, as between two rain-drops, none could see the difference.\n Frey gazes on the rosy lips, and on the breast of snow,\n And quite forgets Iduna\u2019s loss, and all Valhalla\u2019s woe.\n\n But while he gazed, his longing eyes witness\u2019d a wondrous sight!\n For now to white the red was changed! and red became the white!\n When cherries burst, they show their stone; when her lips part, behold!\n Two rows of teeth, as bright as pearls or ivory, they unfold!\n\n And when the tunic fell aside with the pulsation strong,\n Up from the lovely damsel\u2019s breast a pair of rose-buds sprung!\n Then she awoke, and with her hand those treasures sought to veil;\n But strict their duty to fulfil the parted fingers fail.\n\n Now rising from her couch she flies, as nimble as a roe,\n To where a fountain\u2019s limpid stream adown the rock doth flow:\n She bathes her cheek, her large dark eyes and eke her snow-white arms\n A genial glow, unfelt before, the favour\u2019d fountain warms.\n\n In order not to lose its strength, between the rocks it ran\n Fermenting, and a source of health became to suff\u2019ring man:\n The grot with crutches was hung round; the lame, who hither come,\n No longer need their crutches\u2019 aid, to gain their native home.\n\n The blind too, who had lifted up their eyelids oft in vain,\n Found, when they drank the holy wave, the power of sight again:\n This caused much marvel; all mankind this silver stream adore;\n But it from Gerda\u2019s youth derived its wonder-working power.\n\n She takes out from a case a comb of burnish\u2019d gold so rare,\n And with her fingers white divides her glossy raven hair:\n She combs her locks; they glisten bright; what pleasure they impart\n To love-sick Frey! he felt each spark; they melted in his heart.\n\n She wreath\u2019d a band of twisted hair around her forehead high,\n Adorn\u2019d with sapphires blue, which shone with wondrous brilliancy:\n She then put on a costly robe of asbest silver white;\n The border of the robe was hemm\u2019d with garnets rare and bright.\n\n A milk-tub made of polish\u2019d deal he saw her take up now,\n And to the flow\u2019ry mead repair, to milk her brindled cow:\n In clover deep there grazing stood the cow with crumpled horn;\n I\u2019 th\u2019 middle of the meadow spread its blossom the black thorn.\n\n She sat down on the clover green, and with her fingers neat\n Under the cow she fix\u2019d the pail, and grasp\u2019d the swelling teat;\n While the milk foam\u2019d, the beast to stare with much indifference seem\u2019d:\n \u201cO thou cold-hearted stupid cow!\u201d thus Asa Frey exclaim\u2019d.\n\n His look the graceful Jotun nymph now follow\u2019d ev\u2019rywhere;\n He sigh\u2019d: \u201cI ne\u2019er before beheld a maid so wondrous fair.\u201d\n His words she heard, but innocence dwell\u2019d in her radiant eye,\n And intellect was deeply stamp\u2019d upon her forehead high.\n\n Her cheek a glow unusual felt; bewitchingly she smiled;\n With piety and steady faith was fill\u2019d her bosom mild:\n He saw her then sit down to spin, and much admired the zeal,\n With which her younger sisters all she taught to turn the wheel.\n\n Her arms around her much-loved sire with tenderness she flung;\n She smooth\u2019d his beard, and \u2019gainst the wall his bow and quiver hung:\n When from the forest home he came, she piled the hearth with logs;\n And in the milk put many a slice of bread to feed his dogs.\n\n Heath-cocks, wild ducks, and partridges upon the dresser lie:\n No more they now the thrushes\u2019 song disturb with piercing cry:\n The hare too, who such speed had shown, how changed! with legs stretch\u2019d out,\n Now stiff and cold he lies, while blood drips from his mangled throat.\n\n Now Gerda took from out a case a diamond of great worth,\n The like was never seen before i\u2019 th\u2019 mountains of the north,\n For if into the darkest room \u2019twas brought i\u2019 th\u2019 hour of night,\n And placed upon the hearth, it shed around a dazzling light.\n\n Now with her apron round her waist the giant-maiden stands,\n The fire fierce burning hardens not her delicate white hands;\n Her breast lost not its lily hue; her cheek was not more brown;\n That she was giant-born, could all infer from that alone.\n\n Towards evening to her father\u2019s house came giants old and young,\n To drain the bowl, and pass the night in revelry and song:\n Some stand on hoofs of horse; while some horns on their forehead bear;\n Others have beards of goat; the rest a loftier nature share.\n\n For every one is well aware, that of the giant race\n There must be many tribes distinct, of unlike form and face;\n With human bodies some combine the head of wolf or bear;[63]\n Some dwell in subterranean caves; some in the forest drear:\n\n Others with human visage graced the Asar\u2019s type recall;\n They war upon the gods, \u2019tis true, but that comes from their fall:\n Though not endow\u2019d with heavenly power, magic they understand;\n In woollen oft like peasants clad they wander through the land.\n\n Of this last race was Gerda fair: her sire would oft invite\n The wild Hrimthusser[64] to his board; she view\u2019d them all with slight.\n \u201cGerda\u2019s in truth a handsome girl, \u2019tis pity she\u2019s so cold:\u201d\n This was remark\u2019d by Horse-leg young, and eke by Goat-beard old.\n\n Against her robe they rubb\u2019d themselves; they pinched her arms and thighs;\n At this the Jotun damsel blush\u2019d with anger and surprize.\n \u201cIf ye cannot behave yourselves,\u201d said she in threat\u2019ning tone,\n \u201cI\u2019ll instantly retire, and leave ye here to sup alone.\u201d\n\n Of beauty with good sense allied so powerful is the charm,\n The sturdy giants felt ashamed, and swore they meant no harm:\n She fill\u2019d their cups with foaming ale, and gave them savoury food;\n But when their jokes obscene and coarse the giant carles renew\u2019d,\n\n She kiss\u2019d her sire, and sought her bower: there stood she all alone,\n And look\u2019d out at the wide expanse, and gazed upon the moon:\n She sigh\u2019d with longing, but for what, she could not rightly tell;\n She felt so warm, that from her breast she doff\u2019d the silken veil.\n\n The moon benignant shone; it seem\u2019d towards earth its course to lower,\n And sent strong rays of light within the lovely Gerda\u2019s bower:\n She thought it was the sun of night, the silver-helm-clad moon,\n But it was Asa-Frey himself peeping from Hlidskialf\u2019s throne.\n\n Now when, by sleep oppress\u2019d, her limbs upon the couch she laid,\n Frey wish\u2019d a thousand times good night to the bewitching maid.\n Descending then from Hlidskialf\u2019s tower, he strait began to rove.\n Like dreamer in the midnight hour, towards Freya\u2019s beechen grove.\n\n Towards Freya\u2019s grove the love-sick god pensive pursued his way:\n Its glories at Iduna\u2019s rape became of frost the prey;\n The leaves all lay in yellow heaps the wither\u2019d trunks around;\n The silver brook, once used to flowers, now flint-stones only found.\n\n And now throughout the grove resounds the tempest\u2019s awful yell!\n Scared by the shock, the rain-drops bright from the dry branches fell!\n So much had love absorb\u2019d his thoughts, when this the god perceiv\u2019d,\n He thought each branch upon the trees, like him enamour\u2019d, griev\u2019d.\n\n The howling of the storm amongst the trees with joy he hailed;\n It much resembled, as he thought, the sighs his breast exhaled:\n He knew not it was Skada\u2019s self, that through the forest blew\n Behind her cloud: the whole wide world appear\u2019d to him as new.\n\n How dreadful was the change! now seem\u2019d Heimkringlas dead indeed,\n Since from its native soil was torn the life-renewing reed!\n But it was not Iduna\u2019s form, that Frey long\u2019d to embrace,\n But thee, o Gerda! scion fair of Jotun\u2019s swarthy race.\n\n As thus he sat immers\u2019d in thought, sudden his eye survey\u2019d\n His sister Freya; there she stood in linen white array\u2019d,\n With silver ringlets, like a dame in the decline of life,\n Who on her beauty\u2019s vanish\u2019d spring looks back with inward grief.\n\n She heard her brother\u2019s plaintive sigh. \u201cUnfortunate,\u201d she said:\n \u201cWhy didst thou Hlidskialf\u2019s tower ascend? hath magic turn\u2019d thy head?\n Were I in all my glory now a Disa, as before,\n In the dark vales of Jotunheim naught would avail my power.\n\n \u201cAnd if it could, would Odin e\u2019er permit Frey to espouse\n A giantess? hath he not long for Eir reclaim\u2019d thy vows?\n The Disa, who when Idun fair in Valhall takes her seat.\n Gives health to all the Asar\u2019s blood with liquor from the beet.\u201d\n\n \u201cOdin cannot compel my choice,\u201d her brother answer\u2019d sore,\n \u201cE\u2019en if he still possess\u2019d his strength and glory, as before:\n Giants to slay Thor boasts the power; but not to quench the flame,\n Which burns impetuous in my heart for the fair mountain dame!\u201d\n\n Thus the fraternal pair conversed, and shared each other\u2019s grief;\n But Freya breath\u2019d the deepest sigh, despairing of relief.\n She said: \u201cMy dearest brother! thee the future may console;\n But as for me, no hope remains to sooth my anguish\u2019d soul.\n\n \u201cFor he, who hath not yet possessed what he desires, may still\n Hope to obtain it; time one day may on his efforts smile:\n But he, who, which he once enjoy\u2019d, hath lost the darling bliss,\n Looks from a height, and views below a fathomless abyss!\n\n \u201cAlas! a Vaner I\u2019m no more;\u201d thus sigh\u2019d despairing Frey;\n \u201cE\u2019en were I handsome as before, when Idun\u2019s fruit was nigh,\n Still vanish\u2019d is my peace of mind; no longer I\u2019m the same;\n Nerveless and weak I feel; and Lok, the traitor Lok\u2019s to blame.\u201d\n\n While Frey thus reasons, lo! a change[65] strikes his astonish\u2019d sight\n The sun dispels all mist and fog! day follows upon night!\n The frost dissolves in genial dew! azure becomes the sky!\n And in a whirlwind from the grove the wither\u2019d branches fly!\n\n The trees stood full of buds! these swell\u2019d! flowers blossom\u2019d forth!\n and lo!\n Freya now feels a pressure strange before her heart! below\n She casts a hasty glance, and views with pleasure and surprize\n The rose-buds on her breast again with youthful fullness rise.\n\n Frey gazed upon the brook; of late slowly it crept \u2019midst stones,\n But now through banks of violets blue with rapid course it runs:\n The spot, where grew a noisome weed, now odours sweet exhales;\n He look\u2019d; and in its place, behold! a rose the air regales!\n\n Now on each other gazed the pair with mutual ecstacy;\n Of all the females in the world the handsomest was she:\n In him she view\u2019d the paragon of males with rose-crown\u2019d brow,\n And had she ne\u2019er felt love before, she would have felt it now.\n\n A clapping loud of wings was heard: they look\u2019d, and with delight\n Beheld the stork, who with his mate had homeward wing\u2019d his flight:\n They had been far in southern climes[66], the swarthy tribes among;\n What could they not relate, had they the power to use their tongue?\n\n The stork now sought his clay-built nest all in the beechen grove:\n Again over the daisied mead the cattle grazing rove:\n And bursting from his tomb, soon as the sun resumed his power,\n The butterfly each flower caress\u2019d, himself a living flower,\n\n The cold dissolves, while breezes mild and gentle fan the air:\n The genial warmth was felt by Frey and by his sister fair:\n They marvel much, and listen; on each other gaze, and sigh:\n Hark! tones resound from Valaskialf; they were the tones of joy.\n\n\n\n\nCANTO XVIII.\n\nJOY IN VALHALLA.\n\n\n Skirnir the messenger of Frey now running towards them came:[67]\n Such now is the good news he brings, he well deserves the name.\n Soon as he saw them, loud he call\u2019d to Frey and Freya: Ho!\n Idun to Valhall is return\u2019d; ended is all our woe!\n\n When these glad tidings met their ear, delight they both express\u2019d,\n And flew to Valhall to partake of Odin\u2019s mid-day feast:\n Great was the joy and revelry; each Asa swell\u2019d with pride,\n When Idun sat at the right hand of Odin, like a bride.\n\n Before her stands the golden vase that holds the sacred fruit,\n From which the gods the purple bloom of youth and health recruit;\n Next to Iduna Bragur sits; his eyes with constant gaze\n Devour her charms: thus from the sun the sun-flower drinks the rays.\n\n Frigga the bounteous mother smiled: the Earth, deliver\u2019d now,\n A wreath of flowers and ears of corn had sent to grace her brow:\n She carves S\u00e2hrimner\u2019s roasted flesh, and sends the slices round\n By a young nymph, whose temples shine with golden fillet crown\u2019d.\n\n \u2019Twas Fulla, Frigga\u2019s handmaid. Gna, who joys to mount the steed,\n Hofvarpur hight, for every guest pours out delicious mead:\n When bearing round the brimming horns the bright Valkyrior move,\n The charms of those attendants fair inspire each god with love.\n\n A seat by Odin\u2019s dexter hand just between him and Eir\n Remain\u2019d unoccupied; \u2019twas meant for Freya and for Freyr:[68]\n By Thor his consort Sif was placed; the warlike god was seen\n Oft on the shoulders of his wife his awful front to lean.\n\n Next them sat Heimdal; when his eyes Freya and Frey behold,\n Smiling he draws his lip aside, and shows his tooth of gold:\n So sharp his ears, he hears wool grow and grasses upwards shoot,\n And well he knew what in the grove those two had talk\u2019d about.\n\n Next to Heimdaller Gefion sat, the proud shield-bearing maid;\n But naught avail\u2019d to gain her heart the courtship that he paid;\n Like rose-bud just about to burst blooming and fresh her hue;\n Yet with indifference profound doth she love\u2019s pastime view.\n\n All the young maidens who, uncrown\u2019d by Freya and by love,\n By death are stricken, refuge find in Gefion\u2019s holy grove:\n Here they converse and oft in sport around the meadow run,\n When cold and sharp the weather feels, and clouds obscure the sun.\n\n Their greatest pleasure is to view each plant and flow\u2019ret grow;\n But in this grove no rose is pluck\u2019d; no garlands bind their brow;\n The fountain, where they love to bathe, is shielded well from sight\n Profane, by a thick hedge; secure they sleep the long long night.\n\n Yet it is whisper\u2019d, when the moon shines forth, their thoughts on love\n Will sometimes dwell; oft stolen looks they cast towards Freya\u2019s grove:\n But no one may such thoughts indulge, Gefion is so severe,\n No male, not e\u2019en a little boy, dare in her grove appear.\n\n In front of her a goddess sat, whose temper\u2019s diff\u2019rent mould\n With that of Gefion contrast forms, as heat compared with cold:\n \u2019Twas gentle Siofna, whose blue eyes with love and softness beam,\n \u2019Tis she who fills the heart of youth with the first pleasing dream.\n\n Clad in a vest of muscle-shell, with crown of sea-weed green,\n Sat \u00c6gir, Ocean\u2019s king: he drank out of a conque marine.\n Next to him sat his consort Ran, with temper given to strife:\n The timid Disar view with dread \u00c6gir\u2019s ill-favour\u2019d wife.\n\n Harsh-featured was her face, her look malignant, ne\u2019er was she\n So joyous, as when vessels sunk in the wide-yawning sea:\n She dwells in Ocean\u2019s deepest cave: seldom to Valhall came:\n With pain in their bright choir enroll\u2019d the Asar view\u2019d her name.\n\n With th\u2019 Asa who sat next to her she form\u2019d a contrast wide;\n They seem\u2019d the images of love and hatred side by side:\n Twas Balder, who with youthful bloom all renovated shone:\n The Disar all cast looks of love on Odin\u2019s fair-hair\u2019d son.\n\n His light gold tresses, parted, gleam\u2019d over his forehead bright;\n His brows resembled just the flower \u201c_the brows of Balder_\u201d hight:\n His aspect\u2019s majesty divine no language can impart;\n Where\u2019er he turn\u2019d his eyes, their glance went deep into the heart.\n\n The guardian of a secret grave confided to his care,\n For which the world no language hath, nor mortal clay an ear,\n Such Balder seem\u2019d; spite of his mild and gentle soul, I trow,\n If he but cast a glance on Thor, with reverence Thor must bow.\n\n Such softness with such strength combined no Asa boasts but he;\n Spite of his blithesome brow, it bears the stamp of sovereignty:\n It could appease the wrath of Ran; on him she loved to gaze:\n Then smiled she like a wave, on which a star benignant plays.\n\n Mother of pearl and coral bright upon the board she laid:[69]\n To Nanna, Balder\u2019s consort, she presented them, and said:\n \u201cWhatever mortal thou mayst chuse to rescue from the grave\n Beneath the billow, with these gifts thou shall have power to save.\u201d\n\n To Nanna sat just opposite Lofna with flower-crown\u2019d brow:\n When with thy dreams two youthful hearts, O gentle Siofna! glow,\n Then Lofna, when invoked, to sooth the lover\u2019s pain delights,\n And spite of every obstacle, the amorous pair unites:\n\n And if this union be denied on earth, affliction\u2019s vale,\n Aloft she bears them on her wings to Freya\u2019s blissful hall.\n Nanna she gave to Balder\u2019s arms; and pitying Signe\u2019s fate,\n Burst Hagbarth\u2019s noose, and from the tree bore him to Folkvang\u2019s gate.\n\n Now H\u00e6dur, fumbling through the hall, cheerless and sullen goes;\n He mutters words in Vidar\u2019s ears, the god with the thick shoes:\n Stone blind is H\u00e6dur, though robust, the sovereign of the night;\n A tunick black as jet he wears with silver stars bedight.\n\n The secrets of eternity are all to Vidar known;\n Their stern unflinching guardian he, amongst the gods alone,\n Ne\u2019er opes his mouth; his shoulders are like Aukthor\u2019s, broad and strong,\n And strong like Vidar is the man who can restrain his tongue.\n\n Two gods, whose qualities on earth are seldom found allied,\n Eternally in Odin\u2019s hall are seated side by side:\n Resistless is their power combined; all view them with respect;\n Loder, the god of beauty reigns; H\u00e6nir, of intellect.\n\n The next to H\u00e6nir on the bench the serious Var appears,\n Stern awe-inspiring goddess, who the rod of conscience bears;\n She hears the oaths of all mankind: whoever breaks his vow,\n To Nastrond down she hurls the wretch, to endless wail and woe.\n\n Near her were many vacant seats; Forsete just and stern,\n Var\u2019s firmest prop, will not so soon to Valaskialf return:\n As soon as Idun was released, down to the earth he hied,\n As judge supreme by Urda\u2019s wave the causes to decide.\n\n Saga Forsete\u2019s footsteps close with graver and with shield\n Had follow\u2019d, to record in runes whatever time reveal\u2019d:\n But every morning her return the anxious gods await,\n To hear her \u2019fore Alfader\u2019s throne her narrative relate.\n\n But Niord, to Skada married, soon the ill-match\u2019d union rued:\n She bade him to the nuptial-couch on Dovre\u2019s summit rude;\n In every corner of the rock the eddying whirlwind roars,\n While Skada\u2019s brother o\u2019er the sea, the tall Vandhose, soars:\n\n His arms cling to the sky; his legs drop dangling o\u2019er the wave;\n He laughs; the seamen at his sight are fill\u2019d with terror grave:\n Now all at once, to water changed, he gushes down amain.\n And all he meets in his career drives headlong down to Ran.\n\n Now Skada with dishevell\u2019d hair from Dovre\u2019s cliffs arose;\n She grasp\u2019d her lance, to deal around dire wounds and mortal blows:\n \u201cUp! come to help me! bridegroom dear!\u201d thus call\u2019d she out to Niord:\n The god turns pale with anger, when he hears her voice abhorr\u2019d.\n\n But luck would have it, Idun fair was on that very morn\n Replaced in Valhall; at her sight Niord felt his strength return;\n Like tempest from the south he rose, and vanquish\u2019d the east-wind,\n And Skada fled to hide herself drear Finnmark\u2019s rocks behind.\n\n Lately at Garderik she put in force a strange resolve;\n With fragments of sharp ice, which should not on the tongue dissolve,\n She fill\u2019d her lungs; with these she sought the ambient air to freeze,\n But Niord the mischief soon dispell\u2019d with flower-scented breeze.\n\n At length they peace conclude: nine days was Niord to wear the crown,\n Healthy and free the north remain, subject to Niord alone:\n Skada the three succeeding days might march with flag unfurl\u2019d:\n Thus with alternate change do Good and Evil rule the world.\n\n Ere Niord to Skada was allied, the north was far more mild;\n Often with fire from Muspelheim the northern air he fill\u2019d:\n But longer now the mists prevail, so doth the grim east-wind;\n For no one boasts the power to tame Skada\u2019s malignant mind.\n\n While Skada slumbers in her cave, \u2019tis Niord\u2019s peculiar care\n In arches o\u2019er the verdant earth to mould the light-blue air;\n And where are more delightful woods and meadows to be found,\n Than those of Denmark, when the lays of nightingales resound?\n\n Niord weeps with rage, while Skada fell lays waste his rich domain,\n But changed his precious tears become to fecundating rain;\n When rain descends, it never fails to damp the tempest\u2019s wings;\n Thus ever \u2019gainst his consort\u2019s spells some antidote he brings.\n\n From Vingolf Niord was absent, when the mead was handed round,\n For while Forsete sat as judge by Urda\u2019s wave profound,\n He clear\u2019d the air from vapours foul: where\u2019er extends his power,\n Healthy and free each peasant breathes, sickness prevails no more.\n\n Not far from Balder Snotra sat with mild and graceful look:\n She blush\u2019d, while from a silver dish small cakes her fingers took;\n In gesture, movement, and in speech her gentle grace she blends,\n And often to the poet\u2019s lay her soft expression lends.\n\n Hlyn too was there, whom Frigga sends to guard the race of men\n From danger, when dark, Surtur spreads his snares o\u2019er marsh and fen.\n Next Uller sat the archer good, with bow across his loins:\n Instead of war, to end all feuds by duel he enjoins.\n\n The Asar thus in Valaskialf their joyous vigils keep,\n Which on the arches vast of heaven rests its foundation deep;\n Each azure-colour\u2019d cupola on columns doth repose;\n Straight as the forest\u2019s finest fir each marble column rose.\n\n Bucklers and swords with silver hilts around these columns shone.\n Now Bragur strikes the golden harp, and in pathetic tone\n He sings the danger that the gods so lately had incurr\u2019d,\n And while he sang, Iduna\u2019s cup pass\u2019d round the festive board.\n\n Now far beyond Valhalla\u2019s roof ascends each swelling note,\n And melts away towards Hlidskialf\u2019s tower far in the air remote:\n E\u2019en as the loftiest pine in height exceeds the humblest flower,\n Thus Ervin\u2019s minster is eclips\u2019d by Hlidskialf\u2019s awful tower.[70]\n\n Now Frey and Freya take their seat: then joins the banquet Tyr,\n Brother of Thor; no danger doth that valiant stripling fear:\n Behind Valfader\u2019s chair he stands, while lasts the sumptuous feast,\n And waits upon him like a page, in scarlet kirtle drest.\n\n But still insensible to joy and mindful of her woes\n Sigh\u2019d beauteous Freya; copious tears bedew\u2019d her cheeks of rose:\n Ah! what is beauty? (thus she thought) and why should it return,\n If from the heart the heart\u2019s beloved remain for ever torn?\n\n While Freya thus indulged in grief, Odin, the mighty lord,\n His courier Hermod call\u2019d; he came, and, charged with Odin\u2019s word,\n Went out again, but reappear\u2019d, quick as a waterfall,\n And Freya\u2019s daughter, little Hnos, he led into the hall.\n\n The little creature smiling stood behind her mother\u2019s chair,\n Over her shoulders delicate stream\u2019d down her well comb\u2019d hair:\n The mother wept still more; her child close in her arms she prest;\n A flood of golden tears humect the lovely Freya\u2019s breast.\n\n See Odin now the god sublime quick from the table rise!\n To Hermod whispers he a word with anger in his eyes:[71]\n Straight Hermod vanish\u2019d from the hall, arm\u2019d with his magic wand:\n Not half so swift the falcon flies, launch\u2019d by the hunter\u2019s hand.\n\n O that Alfader had not mark\u2019d the beauteous Freya\u2019s grief!\n Alas! how anger\u2019s haste destroys all prospect of relief!\n If Odur could have seen, methinks, his consort fair once more,\n Repentance\u2019 sting he would have felt, and lov\u2019d her, as before.\n\n But now to marble statue changed, what can he feel? \u2019Tis true,\n His eyes wide open stand, but naught those eyes have power to view:\n No animation from the grapes doth wretched Odur prove\n That deck his brow; on feet he stands, but those feet cannot move.\n\n Now Freya must for ever grieve, and her own grief impart\n To other hearts; henceforward love was mix\u2019d with painful smart:\n Happy, as handsome, Hnos became, as she advanced in size;\n She brings delight and joy to love; but Freya tears and sighs.\n\n\n\n\nCANTO XIX.\n\nTHE EINHERIER.\n\n\n From Valaskialf to the next hall Odin repairs in state,\n Where thousands of th\u2019 Einherier their king\u2019s approach await.\n The folding doors, at Syn the porteress\u2019 touch, wide open fly!\n Then enters, \u2019mongst the champions brave, Odin the lord so high.\n\n With kindness he salutes them all, for every one he knew;\n A troop of warriors lately slain had just appear\u2019d in view:\n Their limbs were all besmear\u2019d with blood, deep gashes on their breast;\n They stared as in a dream, and thought: Who could this scene have guest?\n\n Then Eir advanced; she follow\u2019d close Odin the chief so great:\n In all their gaping wounds she poured the liquor of the beet;\n These closed again, changed to slight scars; then woke the warriors\n brave,\n And found they were recall\u2019d to life, and rescued from the grave.\n\n Pale from the fight, a strong old man enter\u2019d with snowy beard;\n His skull was cloven by a sword; frightful the gash appear\u2019d;\n But Eir upon his bleeding front, while he before her kneel\u2019d,\n With a strong pressure laid her hand; the wound that instant heal\u2019d.\n\n The glorious father of the fight then ask\u2019d the warrior\u2019s name:\n \u201cI am Starkodder,\u201d answer\u2019d he, \u201ca chief well known to fame:\n Food for the ravens I have given myriads of foes on earth;\n But here I meet them all as friends, and recognize their worth.\u201d\n\n H\u00e6rfader gravely then replied: \u201cA Nidding once wert thou;\n By gold seduced, thou didst commit a crime on earth below.\u201d\n \u201cI sinn\u2019d once in my youthful days,\u201d Starkodder humbly said;\n \u201cBut even till my eightieth year atonement have I made.[72]\n\n \u201cFrom Helheim\u2019s prison-bars I saved King Oluf, it is true:\u201d\n But lo! King Oluf now appears: the old man well he knew:\n He straight embraced him, moved to tears, and said: \u201cWell mayst thou\n plead\n Innumerable glorious acts to cancel one misdeed.\n\n \u201cThe giants tempted thee, but Thor soon to thy succour came;\n Thrice happy he, who in his breast the dark-hued Alf can tame!\u201d\n A rustling noise was heard, \u2019twas Thor shining in brazen arms;\n He rush\u2019d into the hall, and caught Starkodder in his arms:\n\n He press\u2019d him to his heart, and with emotion wept aloud:\n Now Roska brought a leopard\u2019s skin, and gave it to the god:\n Amongst th\u2019 Einherier clash of shields resounds with deaf\u2019ning din,\n When on the veteran\u2019s shoulders broad Thor hung the leopard\u2019s skin.\n\n A club made from Yggdrassil\u2019s wood he places in his hand;\n Thus \u2019mongst the demi-gods enroll\u2019d Starkodder takes his stand:\n Counsel he gives to those who once were guilty of a crime,\n I\u2019 th\u2019 holy wave of Balder\u2019s fount to wash off Nastrond\u2019s slime.\n\n Now to the field of battle his th\u2019 Einherier all with glee:\n How the vast plain with heroes swarms, like billows on the sea!\n The danger, that the greatest strength and bravery on earth\n Could scarce o\u2019ercome, was pastime here; mere children\u2019s play and mirth.\n\n And now the phalanx in the shape of a boar\u2019s head they form;\n The lances clash with rustling noise like branches, when a storm\n In autumn whistles through the grove, ere snow makes white the green;\n Each glitt\u2019ring blade like lightning strikes, that kills before \u2019tis\n seen.\n\n Astounded at these wonders all, Starkodder silent stood:\n The buildings that inclose the space with ravishment he view\u2019d.\n Vingolf and Gladheim on one side their lofty turrets rear;\n Valaskialf in the centre; left doth Freya\u2019s dome appear.\n\n But over Valaskialf he mark\u2019d the awful tower immense,\n The like of which was never seen o\u2019er all the earth\u2019s expanse;\n \u2019Twas like the serpent Jormundgard in all his colours bright,\n When poised upon his tail he stands in perpendic\u2019lar height.\n\n Upon the buckler-cover\u2019d roof two beasts Starkodder view\u2019d;\n A goat over the dome, a stag over the portal stood:\n Heidruna doth all other goats in value far excel,\n Since from her udder, \u2019stead of milk, flow streams of hydromel.\n\n But from the antlers of the stag a rill with brilliant spray\n And pleasing murmur spouted forth; it never ceased to play;\n A silver basin, when it falls, receives the bounteous stream;\n In various channels thence it flows to the world\u2019s bound extreme.\n\n On a balcony take their stand to view the feats of arms\n The Disar all: what Scald hath power to sing their matchless charms?\n Garlands of oak with their fair hands they wreath, and cast below\n As trophies in th\u2019 arena vast, to grace the victor\u2019s brow.\n\n Starkodder mounted on the roof to view each wondrous sight,\n While Hermod friendly show\u2019d the way by evening\u2019s rosy light.\n He mark\u2019d Heidruna the green leaves from th\u2019 ash Yggdrassil crop,\n Which from the earth beyond the roof extends its branching top.\n\n Not far from Valhall\u2019s lofty gate, where Heimdal sentry stood,\n Starkodder the vast bridge of heaven, the gorgeous Bifrost, view\u2019d:\n In its construction precious stones of various hue it blends,\n And, rising in one single arch, o\u2019er all the earth extends.\n\n Over this bridge, when they descend to earth, the Asar ride\n To sit as judges in the grove, by th\u2019 ash Yggdrassil\u2019s side:\n This bridge is dangerous to pass, steep, narrow; but, like bees\n Upon a wall, the gods contrive to hold on it with ease.\n\n Southward appears a verdant grove, and there upon a height,\n Resting on azure columns, stands a palace fair and light:\n High beech-trees of the liveliest green encircle this domain:\n There, to Starkodder Heimdal said, doth lovely Freya reign!\n\n Northward appears a forest black; on a steep granite rock\n Stands a strong castle, with deep ditch, which any siege could mock;\n Its roof was tiled with copper shields; Trudvang the name it bore:\n There, Heimdal to Starkodder said, dwells the all-powerful Thor!\n\n The sun now sank beneath the wave, and clear and round the moon\n On Valaskialf, on Folkvang bright, on massive Trudvang shone!\n Athwart the clouds Starkodder saw far off a dazzling light:\n \u201cHow now?\u201d to Hermod thus he said, \u201chave ye two moons at night?\n\n \u201cThe light thou takest for a moon,\u201d thus answered Hermod mild,\n Is Breidablik; that mansion\u2019s roof with costly pearls is tiled:\n There Asa-Balder sits enthron\u2019d the fleecy clouds among;\n Hark! how he chaunts with the white Alfs the dulcet vesper song!\n\n \u201cAnd hark! what thrilling melody the echoing clouds impart!\n Like the soft joys of innocence, it melts the coldest heart:\n But in the hall below resound laughter and boist\u2019rous glee,\n And like the dove before the hawk, the pious tones give way.\u201d\n\n To Vingolf now they both descend; there joy tumultuous reigns:\n In honour of Valfader\u2019s name his horn each warrior drains.\n There the good Scalds, who oft the north had gladden\u2019d, touch the chord,\n They all like loving brothers sit at Odin\u2019s oaken board.\n\n A Drapa now, a splendid theme, together they rehearse;\n With glorious choral harmony resounds th\u2019 heroic verse:\n \u2019Twas like to many a bunch of grapes, each from a diff\u2019rent vine\n Gather\u2019d, and now together press\u2019d to form a generous wine.\n\n Here neither jealousy intrigues, nor envy gnaws the heart;\n Each hears with deference sincere when others aught impart,\n And each rejoices like a child who lovely flowers beholds,\n When, what his own hath not conceived, another\u2019s brain unfolds.\n\n \u201cThere, next to Thor,\u201d thus Hermod said, \u201cStarkodder, is thy seat.\u201d\n At times throughout the vast saloon flashes a splendour great;\n It flashes from the shields that hang in rows against the wall;\n The silver hilts and the steel blades a dazzling ray let fall.\n\n When now the mead was drank, and when each Scald had ceased his song,\n Enter\u2019d the scoffer Asa-Lok the jovial guests among;\n His nature is well-known: now red with insolence he grew;\n And to the mock\u2019ry of the gods exposed himself anew.\n\n Though by the greater gods despised and hated by the less,\n Yet often they must needs admire his wit and liveliness;\n At times his cunning was of use worse mischief to prevent,\n And when buffoonery prevail\u2019d, there was his element.\n\n But not innocuous were his jokes; sharp, like the razor\u2019s edge,\n Both friend and foe alike they cut, yet \u2019twas his privilege.\n When circulates the brimming horn and seriousness gives way,\n We sometimes listen to a fool and tolerate his play.\n\n With Fenris first he play\u2019d, the wolf, whom he in a dark cave\n Of a foul witch begot; but all the guests with aspect grave\n Beheld the sport; it pleased them not, nor did his laughter help;\n For all the Asar fear\u2019d the wolf, though he was but a whelp.\n\n His eyes glared fiercely; every day his size and strength increas\u2019d:\n Unwilling Odin in his hall suffer\u2019d the hateful beast:\n To Skirnir, messenger of Frey, he turn\u2019d aside his head,\n Whisp\u2019ring a mandate in his ear; Skirnir the hint obey\u2019d.[73]\n\n But now Lok could not fail to see that Fenris was by all\n Abhorr\u2019d and fear\u2019d; without the gate he led him from the hall.\n Loud howl\u2019d the wolf; to earth he hied; he there a robber found,\n And help\u2019d to murder, while his teeth enlarged the victim\u2019s wound.\n\n Now to the stable hasten\u2019d Lok by special leave of Thor,\n And brought in one of the white goats that drew the hero\u2019s car:\n The bearded father of the flock was heard to sigh and groan;\n It vex\u2019d the reverend goat to play the part of a buffoon.\n\n With Fulla\u2019s garter at one end Lok by the beard made fast\n The sturdy goat; the other end he tied to his own waist:\n Now to the goat he turn\u2019d his back, and struck him with a thorn;\n The beast enraged ran at his foe full butt with levell\u2019d horn.\n\n To a short distance they retired; now they again fell to;[74]\n The gods in Valaskialf laugh\u2019d loud the sport absurd to view.\n This amused Lok; no shame he felt within his breast; he thought\n That, while at him they laugh\u2019d, they all were laughing at the goat.\n\n But such buffoonery soon must fail amusement to impart;\n Loud laugh\u2019d the mighty gods, \u2019tis true, but \u2019twas not from the heart.\n Oft doth a scene absurd and strange the lungs to laughter move,\n E\u2019en when the heart and sense such scenes must ever disapprove.\n\n Gefion began to frown; now Thor a sign to Bragur made:\n That silly play offended much the chaste high-minded maid.\n She rose to quit the hall, but Thor whisper\u2019d to Bragur: \u201cPray\n Recite, to soothe the virgin\u2019s ears, some soul-inspiring lay!\u201d\n\n Then Bragur tuned his harp and said: \u201cNow listen to my lays!\n Behold! I strike the golden harp in noble Gefion\u2019s praise!\u201d\n At this the maid resumed her seat; what female could eschew\n To listen gracious to the song, that gives her honour due?\n\n\n\n\nCANTO XX.\n\nBRAGUR\u2019S SONG IN HONOUR OF GEFION.\n\n\n When the Asar\u2019s numerous band\n From the East to Gauthiod\u2019s strand\n Rode, on coursers arm\u2019d in mail,\n Sword in hand, o\u2019er mountain, vale,\n Forest, lake, their march pursuing,\n The proud Jotun race subduing;\n Gefion, as a bulrush strait,\n Hied one summer evening late\n To where Svea\u2019s fountain flows,\n Where the Jetter\u2019s dwelling rose\n Built of wood; where Gyllfe\u2019s hand\n Levied tribute from the land,\n Far as the wave, whose stormy spray\n Scoops through the hills a double bay.\n\n There while the Scald\u2019s poetic fire\n To strains harmonious waked the lyre,\n The mighty chief sat in his hall,\n Surrounded by his champions all.\n All lauded the heroic lay,\n And Gefion, who pass\u2019d that way,\n Lured by the harp\u2019s melodious sound,\n With sensibility profound\n Listening to each ecstatic note,\n Remain\u2019d fast rooted to the spot.\n\n The sons of Gyllfe much incline\n To bend the knee at beauty\u2019s shrine:\n No sooner they the Disa view\u2019d,\n As listening at the gate she stood,\n They sprang up from their bench; with prayer\n They earnestly besieged the fair\n To enter in the festive hall,\n Where she took seat, admired by all.\n\n Though melancholy was her mien,\n She shed new lustre on the scene:\n Her eyes\u2019 bewitching glance could melt\n Each warrior\u2019s heart beneath his belt,\n Hearts, which were slow to move before,\n Save when the clarion blew for war.\n\n And now the Scald had ceased his lay;\n The harp\u2019s last tone had died away:\n Gefion arose, her bosom swelling\n With conscious dignity, repelling\n All hope her favours to obtain:\n As when on silv\u2019ry lake the swan\n Doth proud its swelling neck deploy,\n The water feels a thrilling joy\n The bosom downy-white to lave,\n Which with indifference ploughs the wave.\n\n Thus Gyllfe\u2019s warriors Gefion bright\n Behold with wonder and delight,\n And striking on their shields, proclaim\n Loud homage to her spotless name;\n But with a cold disdain the maid\n Their homage and their vows repaid.\n\n \u201cFarewell, ye champions mountain-born!\n Lo! to my lips I raise the horn,\n And with the pledge of hydromel\n I bid ye all a long farewell!\n Now to the grove to gather flowers,\n Late moisten\u2019d by benignant showers,\n My course I bend, while through the vale\n Yet sounds the plaint of nightingale:\n And when to-morrow\u2019s moon shall roll\n In silv\u2019ry track athwart the pole,\n The daughter of the East again\n Shall join her much-loved sisters\u2019 train.\u201d\n\n \u201cNay! Gefion! stay with us! oh stay!\n And when the summer\u2019s lengthen\u2019d ray\n Tinges our hills, thine be the toil\n To plant fresh flowers on Svithiod\u2019s soil.\n But if from hence, O goddess bright!\n Thou art resolv\u2019d to wing thy flight,\n No more will joy or pleasure deign\n To smile on Svea\u2019s drear domain.\u201d\n\n \u201cWell then! your zeal for Gefion prove!\n And with her on it, drag this grove\n Into the Ocean! I the land\n Will deck with flowers; but it must stand\n An island green \u2019midst billows blue:\n If not--receive my last adieu!\n Gefion ye ne\u2019er shall see again,\n O Jetter! in your proud domain.\u201d\n\n \u201cLet Gefion swear with us to stay,\n We\u2019ll all submit to Gefion\u2019s sway:\n Let graceful Gefion deign to smile,\n We\u2019ll straight her fondest wish fulfill.\n Choose the best portion of the land\n Thyself! forthwith the Jetter band,\n Harness\u2019d like \u00c6gir\u2019s coursers brave,\n Shall drag it forth into the wave:\n There as an island shall it stand,\n O goddess fair! at thy command!\u201d\n\n The Disa now her skill display\u2019d:\n A plough with precious stones inlaid\n She took, and plough\u2019d the grove around,\n With all its trees, a trench profound.\n This done, she southward placed a rock\n The billows\u2019 utmost rage to mock:\n Through the deep trench in rush\u2019d the main,\n And quicksands follow\u2019d in its train.\n\n With joy and pride her bosom swell\u2019d,\n When she her fav\u2019rite grove beheld\n Wash\u2019d by the ocean\u2019s azure spray:\n Next towards the north she form\u2019d a bay,\n Protection ample to afford\n To ships; and call\u2019d it Issefiord.\n\n To Gefion\u2019s car the champions bright\n Yoked themselves, changed to oxen white:\n The grove far from the hills they drew,\n And fixed it midst the ocean blue.\n There as an island stands apart\n The continent\u2019s most fruitful part!\n And since the grove the billows lave,\n Sealund\u2019s[75] the name the Disa gave:\n And future ages all proclaim,\n The island well deserves the name;\n Since there the finest grove they see\n Gracefully married to the sea.\n Thus Sealund stands! thus took its birth\n The brightest ornament of earth!\n A south, with teeming verdure graced,\n I\u2019 th\u2019 bosom of the north enchased!\n\n Now through the vacant space doth flow\n The wave, in which the heavenly bow\n Reflects itself: now vessels sail,\n Where once the car roll\u2019d through the vale;\n And fishes swim, where once the trees\n Responded to the evening breeze.\n\n Then join your voice to Bragur\u2019s lays!\n He strikes the harp in Gefion\u2019s praise!\n Hail, Gefion! glorious Disa, hail!\n Ne\u2019er shall the poet\u2019s ardour fail\n To render thee all homage due;\n Thy power triumphant still we view;\n For Sealund with each vale and hill\n By Oresund doth flourish still.[76]\n\n\n\n\nCANTO XXI.\n\nCONVERSATION BETWEEN SKIRNIR AND FREY.\n\n\n But when the moon had fled the rock behind,\n Follow\u2019d by Maanegarm the winged fiend,\n Who, constant in pursuit, to human eyes\n Mostly invisible, but in the skies\n Sometimes in form of wolf, when rain pours down,\n Protrudes his head amidst the vapours brown:\n From ocean\u2019s bed the sun majestic rose,\n Like blushing Freya with her cheeks of rose,\n When from the bath outstepping, she displays\n (Alone, naught fearing indiscretion\u2019s gaze)\n Her charms voluptuous to the morning chill,\n While on the trees the birds are slumb\u2019ring still.\n\n Skirnir the gallant courier mounts his steed;\n Fulla had fill\u2019d his flask with Suttung\u2019s mead;\n While fair Iduna, mindful of the brave,\n To guard his life and health, an apple gave.\n Lo! thus prepared, he cleaves the liquid sky\n Charged with a mission from Alfader high\n For on that very night was Hermod flown\n (Odin\u2019s own courier) to a distant zone;\n There to avenge by punishment sublime,\n O Freya! thy perfidious consort\u2019s crime.\n\n Charged with his errand now must Skirnir ride\n To Dovre\u2019s caverns, where the dwarfs reside;\n Those smiths ingenious, who with wondrous art\n Can to all metals various forms impart:\n By Odin\u2019s order they were strict enjoin\u2019d\n To forge a fetter, Fenris wolf to bind,\n Subtle and slight, but strong his force to quell,\n And proved and charm\u2019d with many a mystic spell.\n For iron nought avail\u2019d, nor copper chain\n The dangerous monster\u2019s fury to restrain;\n For such, like singed threads, he burst in twain.\n\n But as o\u2019er Bifrost bridge he pass\u2019d along,\n Thus Skirnir mused: \u201cMethinks, it were not wrong,\n Before I leave the regions of the sky,\n To ascertain, if my own master Frey\n Hath not some mandate for his trusty swain;\n For though to Odin, king of gods and men,\n We all must bow, and own his sovereign might,\n Yet our own master claims an equal right.\u201d\n Thus said, he spurr\u2019d his courser toward the grove\n Of birch-trees, where the Asa loved to rove.\n There Frey, with chin reclining on his hand,\n Was wont to sit, and muse, while o\u2019er the land\n The seed is sown, and with fond hopes elate,\n The husbandmen th\u2019 approach of autumn wait.\n But when this time Skirnir his master found\n With pallid hue, immers\u2019d in grief profound,\n He wonder\u2019d much, and thus exclaim\u2019d aloud:\n \u201cHow now? my sovereign! thus with sorrow bow\u2019d,\n When all creation, deck\u2019d in radiant vest,\n Indulges brightest hopes, which thy behest\n Alone can gratify; for in thy hand\n The Fates have placed the fecundating wand,\n Which spreads abundant harvests o\u2019er the land.\n\n But little would the sower\u2019s pains avail,\n Didst thou not send unseen through mead and vale\n A swarm of Alfs, the labourer\u2019s way to clear,\n The thieving sparrows with their darts to scare,\n And root out all the noxious insect race,\n Which lie in ambush in each furrow\u2019s trace.\n But \u2019tis in autumn that we most admire\n Thy power, O Asa, when with looks of fire\n Thou gildest bright each waving field of corn:\n For when the reaper\u2019s scythe at dawn of morn\n Blithesome resounds, thy greatest triumph then\n Is hail\u2019d with rapture by the sons of men.\n \u2019Tis far more cheering to their hearts to hear\n The scythe\u2019s shrill sound, than clang of shield and spear,\n To do Thor homage in his proud career.\u201d\n\n \u201cAh! what avails my boasted power and pride,\n If it can naught effect (thus Frey replied)\n Than causing trees to shoot and corn to grow?\n What boots my form divine and radiant brow,\n If I be not beloved? my power how vain!\u201d\n \u201cAnd art thou not beloved?\u201d rejoin\u2019d the swain:\n \u201cDoth not all nature at thy altar bend?\n Doth not the mighty Odin call thee friend?\n For thee each Disa feels an ardent flame,\n And all the gods thy love fraternal claim.\u201d\n\n Now Frey began each circumstance to tell\n That him on Hlidskialf\u2019s lofty tower befel:\n How in the mountain cavern he beheld\n A form, which every other form excell\u2019d,\n An image of the fairest and the best,\n That stamp\u2019d itself for ever in his breast.\n\n Then Skirnir: \u201cNow doth my loved master prove,\n I well perceive, the mighty power of love:\n Whoe\u2019er of love\u2019s keen arrows feels the smart,\n Freya with doubts and fears distracts his heart.\n With hand upon his breast, in wayward fits,\n Despairing of success, the lover sits:\n Yet could he once his soul to action strain,\n An easy triumph he, perhaps, might gain.\n Why thus despair? Is Gerda thy beloved?\n Cannot she, thinkst thou, by thy prayers be moved?\n Is she not young, and handsome, soft and mild,\n In the first spring of life a flow\u2019ret wild?\n Thinkst thou a goblin bridegroom doom\u2019d to prove\n The exquisite reward of Gerda\u2019s love?\n Shame were it for a ruler of the skies,\n Should Horse-leg, the rough clown, bear off the prize;\n Or should a damsel of such wondrous charms\n Languish and pine in Goat-beard\u2019s shaggy arms.\u201d[77]\n Then Frey: \u201cCould I the maid\u2019s consent obtain,\n Yet fear I Odin, king of gods and men;\n He would refuse his sanction.\u201d \u201cWhy suppose\n Said Skirnir, \u201cOdin would thy views oppose?\n To bind the marriage knot consent he gave\n Whilom \u2019twixt \u00c6gir, monarch of the wave,\n And the perfidious harsh ill-favour\u2019d Ran,\n Who spreads her net to drown the race of man.\n And did he not his sanction too accord\n To bind fierce Skada with benignant Niord?\n How then could his impartial spirit blame\n A better suited match, a worthier flame\n \u2019Twixt thee and Gerda, loveliest mountain dame?\n\n \u201cNot always so austere and so sedate\n Trust me, is Odin, as when high in state\n He thrones amidst Valhalla\u2019s champions grave:\n He too hath sometimes been love\u2019s humblest slave;\n The lively Freya, with her cheeks of rose,\n Hath oft disturbed that prudent god\u2019s repose:\n Then weary of the banquet, and the sight\n Of arm\u2019d Einherier in the mimick\u2019d fight,\n Disguised to earth he oft descends, and there\n Clasps in his fond embrace some mortal fair.\n \u201cHast thou forgot the time, when Odin, fired\n With love for Princess Rinda\u2019s charms, attired\n As a laborious smith, once found his way\n To Garderike, where her sire held sway?\n First prudently he strove to gain the fair\n By gifts of iron, gold, and silver rare:\n But she rejected all; and with disdain\n She smote the cheek of the presumptuous swain.\n But nought rebuff\u2019d, again he took the field,\n Like chieftain arm\u2019d with brazen helm and shield;\n He urged his suit, and met with no success;\n A second blow chastised his eagerness.\n But since a blow from silken hand of dame\n With no dishonour soils a warrior\u2019s name,\n Like oil it served to increase the Asa\u2019s flame.\n\n \u201cOnce more he to the charge return\u2019d, array\u2019d\n This time in guise of lowly waiting-maid:\n He sold his liberty, with fondest care\n And earnest zeal to serve his mistress fair:\n He wash\u2019d her feet on each revolving night,\n And in the humblest duties felt delight:\n This moved her tender heart: and that relief,\n Which to the hardy smith and plume-clad chief\n She had refused, she voluntary gave\n To the profound devotion of a slave.\n\n \u201cStill more of Odin\u2019s various loves, in spite\n Of Saga\u2019s prudence, can I bring to light,\n Although she graves them on her sable shield\n In mystic runes, from vulgar ken conceal\u2019d.\n When first was ratified the bond of peace\n Between the Asar and the Vaner race,\n Loud through the mountains of the eastern chain\n Was heard of love and bliss the jocund strain.\n The Vaner damsels with long streaming hair,\n Their forms voluptuous to the girdle bare,\n Join\u2019d in the mazy dance and rais\u2019d the song\n To crash of cymbals and the sound of gong.\n The vine\u2019s rich juice their cheeks had colour\u2019d high\n And gave fresh lustre to each flashing eye;\n Such thrilling accents from their pouting lips.\n Such melting tones were heard, as might eclipse\n The strain of nightingale, when to the grove\n He lures his mate with blandishments of love.\n\n \u201cNow to the deepest glen the nymphs withdrew;\n The Asar close th\u2019 alluring prey pursue.\n Heimdal soon vanish\u2019d; Vidar, too, the grave,\n Most taciturn of all the Asar brave,\n Who ne\u2019er his prowess boasts; then Hermod flew\n Into the copse, and, some say, Odin too.\n Well, well! the transports of that blissful night\n The genial bard engender\u2019d, Qvaser[78] hight;\n His mother was a damsel of sixteen,\n Fair-hair\u2019d, blue-eyed, of loveliest shape and mien;\n She brought him forth amidst the myrtle grove,\n And gave him to the gods, a pledge of love.\n\n \u201cHe grew to manhood fast, was wise and strong,\n And from his mother learn\u2019d the art of song.\n With various talents blest and generous mind,\n He travell\u2019d o\u2019er the earth to serve mankind,\n And much he joy\u2019d to place within their reach\n All that his wisdom or his skill could teach.\n But malice slumbers not; at close of day\n It lies in ambush to destroy its prey.\n Qvaser oft wander\u2019d o\u2019er the mountain steep;\n Two scowling dwarfs there kill\u2019d him while asleep;\n Into a golden vase they pour\u2019d his blood,\n From which, with honey mix\u2019d, a drink they brew\u2019d\n This drink the Scalds\u2019 bright science could inspire,\n And fill man\u2019s bosom with poetic fire.\n The vengeance of Valhalla to prevent\n And screen their guilt, the dwarfs a tale invent;\n They spread abroad that Qvaser they had found\n In the deep flood of his own wisdom drown\u2019d.\n But to conceal their crime they strove in vain;\n And ample vengeance for his brother slain\n On those malignant dwarfs brave Suttung took;\n He seized them both and bound them to a rock;\n That rock, by stormy billows lash\u2019d, doth stand\n In the mid ocean, distant far from land.\n As a still further punishment, he left\n The traitors life, of all its joys bereft:\n There haunts them still the ghost of Qvaser slain,\n And hunger gnaws them with eternal pain.\u201d\n Frey sigh\u2019d, young Skirnir smiled, and still his tale\n Continued sprightly: \u201cSuttung did not fail\n To seize the vase fill\u2019d with the precious juice,\n For well he knew its value and its use;\n The vase he trusted to no dragon\u2019s care,\n But to his prudent daughter, Gunliod fair.\n Then Odin first conceived the project bold\n Of gaining mast\u2019ry of that vase of gold:\n He mounted on his courser, Sleipner hight,\n And swift descending from Valhalla\u2019s height,\n Soon reach\u2019d a field, where arm\u2019d with scythes he view\u2019d\n Nine savage goblins of the Jotun brood,\n Intent, by the broad streaming northern light,\n To cut down all a peasant\u2019s corn that night;\n And Odin knew their master, Bauge, dwell\u2019d\n In a huge cave close bord\u2019ring on the field.\n No deference pay to justice or to right\n The thievish giants; their sole law is might:\n They rove the world around and laugh to scorn\n The Asar\u2019s golden rules; the peasant\u2019s corn\n They carry off, while he lies fast asleep,\n And, what he sows, those ruthless robbers reap.\n Night of their force and fraud conceals each trace,\n For Night herself is of the giant race:\n Her sire, the giant Narf; an Asa bright,\n Delling, became her husband; then did Night\n Give birth to honest Day: thus oft arise\n Virtue and grace from ugliness and vice.\n But Night when she o\u2019er earth her ride extends,\n Mounted on Hrimfax, whom she often lends\n To Skada, acts in concert with the brood\n Of giants, and conceals their deeds of blood.\n But Moon, the graceful child with golden hair\n About her temples, boasts a courage rare,\n And far beyond her sex and age; \u2019tis she\n Exposes oft the giants\u2019 villany;\n And when from a dark cloud with radiant head\n Fair Moon emerges, to the rocks they speed\n To hide themselves; but soon commence again,\n And to their mountain lair bear off amain\n The fruits and treasures of the luckless swain.\n Then when the husbandman walks o\u2019er the field\n At dawn of day, and views his harvest fell\u2019d\n And all laid waste, he thinks the nightly frost\n Hath caused the mischief and his labours cross\u2019d.\n Then he complains to Frey, but vain his prayer;\u201d\n Frey sigh\u2019d, and gaz\u2019d around with vacant stare.\n Skirnir continued; still he hoped, forsooth,\n With tales and jests his master\u2019s mind to sooth.\n \u201cBut not alone the giants mischief cause,\n The cunning dwarfs too oft infringe the laws;\n They, when the summer breeze embalms the air,\n In shape of ants and cockchafers repair\n To th\u2019 field, and there devour the ears of corn,\n Laughing the wretched peasant\u2019s plaint to scorn.\n\n When Odin now the thievish giants view\u2019d,\n Pity and indignation fired his blood;\n He took out from his pouch a polished stone,[79]\n Than which for sharp\u2019ning scythes a better one\n Could not be found; then call\u2019d out loud and blythe:\n \u2019Which of ye needs a stone to wet his scythe?\u2019\n He threw it high in air, but as it fell,\n The greedy giants had with rancour fell,\n Disputing for the stone, each other slain,\n And streams of blood incarnadined the plain.\n\n \u201cThen Odin towards the mountain hied him strait\n And knock\u2019d, with Bolverk\u2019s name, at Bauge\u2019s gate;\n He there took service, and with nine men\u2019s power\n For the nine reapers household labours bore;\n But this condition fix\u2019d, Bauge a road\n Should find him to fair Gunliod\u2019s abode.\n Now Bauge bored the rock, and Odin blew\n Into the hole, but the dust backward flew\n Into his eyes. The giant\u2019s trick was plain;\n The hole was not made straight; but when again\n Bauge his borer used, the god applied\n Quickly his mouth and blew. To th\u2019 other side\n Now flew the dust; the aperture was free;\n And Odin, in a serpent\u2019s form, with glee\n Glides through the rock; the giant with his steel\n Strikes after, but in vain he strives the snake to kill.\n And Odin, when he reach\u2019d the other side,\n Resumed his proper form with conscious pride.\n With snow-white arm beneath her cheek of rose,\n There Gunliod slumb\u2019ring lay in deep repose;\n While the lamp spread a flick\u2019ring ray around,\n Odin beheld the vase with garlands crown\u2019d.\n Odin presents himself, not fiercely now\n Like a wild man, but with majestic brow\n He stands; then with a lover\u2019s ardour kneels\n Before the maid, and all his soul reveals.\n His eloquence, his manly beauty gain\u2019d\n Her heart; three nights with Gunliod he remain\u2019d.\n And oft, while on his mistress\u2019 form he gaz\u2019d,\n She to her lover\u2019s lips the mystic vessel rais\u2019d.\n Right lustily he drank; then with his prize\n Triumphant he regain\u2019d his native skies.\u201d\n\n Now Skirnir ceas\u2019d his story, and awhile\n Gazed on his master with an artful smile;\n Then Frey his silence broke: \u201cSo! thus doth love\n An Asa! sensual joys alone their passion move!\n The sweeter fruit of sentiment, I trow,\n The race of Bor and Bure do not know.\n O Skirnir! did the Fates to Frey accord\n To dwell on Hlidskialf\u2019s tower, like Valhall\u2019s lord,\n How fortunate! then every morn the sight\n Of Gerda would my ravish\u2019d soul delight.\n This would repay me amply for my sighs\n And for my nightly tears: alas! there lies\n A barrier insurmountable between\n My love and me: all I dare hope to glean\n Is her dear image, which can ne\u2019er depart;\n Here, here, it lies, deep buried in my heart.\n Of her bright charms the deep imprinted trace\n Nor time nor circumstance can e\u2019er efface.\n What greater pleasure, Skirnir! can we prove,\n Than to behold the darling maid we love?\n Oh yes! there is a pleasure far more sweet;\n When looks reciprocal our glances meet,\n And earnest give of future sympathy:\n Oh! \u2019tis the most enchanting melody,\n When the sweet voice of the beloved fair\n Whispers \u201cI love thee\u201d in her lover\u2019s ear.\n Yet e\u2019en the tongue can ne\u2019er its happiness,\n With half the ardour, half the force express,\n As doth an eye, whose silent eloquence\n Reveals each thought, and beams with love intense.\n\n \u201cNow hie thee swift to the dark giant\u2019s land,\n And execute Valfader\u2019s stern command!\n Procure a fetter forged with mystic spell\n Fenris the wolf to chain, that monster fell!\n Not difficult the task will prove, methinks,\n For the dwarf\u2019s science from no labour shrinks.\n But neither mystic spell nor magic chain\n Can to Valhalla bind my heart again:\n To Gerda solely it belongs; it flies\n With wings impetuous through the azure skies\n Over Ginnungagap, abyss profound,\n And hovers with delight the mountain fair around.\n But shouldst thou find the dear enchanting maid,\n Tell her what thou hast seen, what Frey hath said!\n Doubtless already me with scorn she views;\n The giant\u2019s hate the Asar still pursues.\n As for the rest she is too wondrous fair,\n Too graceful in her manners, shape and air,\n Not to expect with sighs and homage meet\n A host of lovers kneeling at her feet.\n And if the swain, to whom she plights her vow,\n Is less esteem\u2019d by the whole world below,\n Than is the god--should Gerda preference give\n To him--what then avails my proud prerogative?\n\n \u201cFarewell! Now hie thee hence, my Skirnir brave!\n To execute the order Odin gave.\n But on thy master\u2019s woes be silent still!\n E\u2019en could I hope to bend her father\u2019s will,\n Could he, though giant-like to softness steel\u2019d,\n From interested views be taught to yield,\n What then? but little comfort this would prove;\n The father\u2019s power I court not, but the love\n Of his fair daughter. O thou Gerda dear!\n Couldst thou but view thy ardent lover here\n Immersed in grief profound, thy generous heart\n Some words of comfort would, perhaps, impart:\n Would give asylum to affection\u2019s sighs,\n And learn a suitor thus sincere to prize.\n Thus doth the mountain\u2019s summit wrapt in snow\n Melt by degrees before the summer\u2019s glow,\n And to a plant gives birth, which scents the gale,\n More fragrant than the lily of the vale.\u201d\n\n Thus spoke the god, and sat him down beside\n The brook to weep; the waters onward glide,\n And, as they flow, receive the lover\u2019s tears,\n While mirror-like the stream his beauteous image bears.\n But Skirnir, who in missions from the god\n So oft had visited the dwarfs\u2019 abode,\n Had learnt their various arts; and now while Frey\n Sat gazing on the stream with mournful eye,\n Skirnir, I say, with sudden impulse took\n A handful of the water from the brook,\n Which the reflection of Frey\u2019s image gave;\n Into his horn he quickly pour\u2019d the wave,\n And stopp\u2019d it with a cork; then to his side\n Made fast the horn, and gallop\u2019d off with pride.\n\n This artifice by Frey was noticed not;\n Gerda alone absorb\u2019d his ev\u2019ry thought.\n\n\n\n\nCANTO XXII.\n\nFREY\u2019S PLAINT AT THE FOUNTAIN.\n\n\n O Swain! who sighest sad with cheek so pale,\n And to the gentle Freya dost complain,\n Because thy vows and ardour naught avail\n The love of a proud maiden\u2019s heart to gain:\n Because to thee no joys the vernal gale\n Affords: Ah! blame not Freya! she thy pain\n Beholds and shares; forlorn, a pray to woe\n Herself, her golden tears incessant flow.[80]\n\n Naught surely can compete with love\u2019s delight;\n But love resembles much a northern spring:\n For one day\u2019s pure and genial solar light,\n Nine days of sleet and cloud discomfort bring.\n Many the birds whose screams the ear affright,\n But few there are, that can melodious sing:\n While lapwings, sparrows, owlets never fail,\n Seldom is heard the voice of nightingale.\n\n A graceful maid is rarely to be found;\n But should the object of thy fond pursuit\n Shine forth to view with matchless beauty crown\u2019d,\n She may be silly, harsh, or dissolute;\n But e\u2019en if beauty, virtue, judgment sound,\n All in thy choice unite, what doth it boot?\n She for another feels a sympathy,\n And with indiff\u2019rence turns her eyes from thee.\n\n To guarantee the zest complete of love,\n How many things must be on earth combined!\n First, two hearts which a mutual passion prove:\n Then grace and beauty, with a soul refined:\n Then the moon shining through the beechen grove,\n When the spring greets the earth with zephyrs kind:\n Then meeting without danger or suspense:\n Then the embrace; and with that--innocence.\n\n\n\n\nCANTO XXIII.\n\nTHE JOURNEY OF SKIRNIR.\n\nRespecting the metre of this Canto, see the note.\n\n\n Now Skirnir, eager his zeal to prove,\n Down Bifrost urges his course amain,\n And, speeding through Hertha\u2019s gloomy grove,\n Soon reaches the Giant\u2019s drear domain.\n \u2019Twas like the wind blowing o\u2019er the road,\n Which gate nor barrier hath power to stop:\n \u2019Twas like the blast raging o\u2019er the flood,\n Which lashes to foam the billow\u2019s top.\n\n Now Skirnir thought: \u201cPitch dark is the night,\n Brakes, briars, and brambles impede my course:\n And the wind and the rain with all their might\n \u2019Gainst the bosom beat of my jaded horse.\n But if no Giant in th\u2019 hour of need\n To give me refuge as guest will deign,\n Then Skirnir must on his panting steed\n Return in haste to Valhalla again.\u201d\n\n To Elivagor he chose the road,\n He came to a fiord,[81] and fain would cross:\n And there at the brink a ferryman stood\n With wrinkled brow, and with aspect cross.\n \u201cWho art thou, fellow, that standst so grave\n Upright in thy bark?\u201d thus Skirnir cried:\n \u201cIf thou wilt ferry me o\u2019er the wave,\n I\u2019ll give thee oatcakes, and herrings beside.\n\n \u201cUpon my shoulder my wallet see!\n Therein of provisions a store I\u2019ve put.\u201d\n Then answer\u2019d the ferryman scornfully:\n \u201cFine horseman thou, with thy shoeless foot![82]\n A woollen kirtle is all thy treasure,\n Yet thou talkst like a lord of wealth and power.\n Ha! thinkst thou slaves to thy will and pleasure\n Us Giants to find at the midnight hour?\u201d\n\n SKIRNIR.\n\n Steer hither thy bark! thou grumbling wight!\n Thy name and thy lineage quick declare!\n Why stand there idle the livelong night,\n And lose every chance to earn a fare?\n\n HARBARD.\n\n A Nidding is he who denies his name;\n Yet were I base as the torrent\u2019s scum,\n My birth to reveal I\u2019d feel no shame:\n \u2019Tis not such as thou shall make me dumb.\n\n SKIRNIR.\n\n I seek not to cross the fiord, I swear,\n To teach thee manners and language meet:\n But thou hast perchance a sister fair,\n Who would more courteous a stranger greet:\n Or thou art link\u2019d to a beauteous bride,\n Who would not disdain on a youth to smile:\n Then ferry me quick to the other side!\n I fain would commune with her awhile.\n\n HARBARD.\n\n Aye! aye! our females are smart and fair;\n That Odin himself must needs confess:\n I only wish more renown\u2019d they were\n For constancy and for gentleness.[83]\n If in search of beauty thou makest thy trip,\n Thou\u2019lt meet with dames that will please thee well:\n But beware lest a kiss from the wife\u2019s soft lip\n Be repaid by a kiss from the husband\u2019s steel!\n\n SKIRNIR.\n\n Like dogs forsooth are your mountain brood,\n Envious and snarling and quarrelsome;\n Who to other creatures refuse the food,\n Which they themselves can never consume.\n Incapable of true love are ye,\n Yet ye fain would exact return of love:\n Ye seek not to hide your inconstancy,\n Yet expect your matrons should constant prove.\n\n HARBARD.\n\n Thou hast talk\u2019d enough: \u2019tis an envious theme:\n Now rest thee, and quench thy thirst, and eat!\n But ere I ferry thee o\u2019er the stream,\n Thou must proof exhibit of talent meet.\n No fare from trav\u2019llers I\u2019m wont to take;\n But if they cannot give answers good\n To every question I chuse to make,\n Down at once they sink in the dark blue flood.\n\n And now the goblin began to ask\n Young Skirnir about the orbs of heaven:\n What various names (\u2019twas no easy task)\n To the sun and moon and stars were given:\n To earth and water, to fire and air,\n To plants and trees, to the wind and rain:\n And what the terms expressive were,\n Which all their properties explain.\n\n But Skirnir\u2019s answers never fail,\n And all his ready wit display:\n \u201cThe earth is call\u2019d by the Asar, _vale_:\n By the Alfer, _green_: by the Vaner, _way_:\n The _cave of metals_, by Dwarfs \u2019tis named:\n _Fruit-bearer_, by all the Giant brood.\u201d\n Then Harbard, raising his oar, exclaimed:\n \u201cIn truth, my hero! thou answer\u2019st good.\u201d\n\n \u201cHeaven,\u201d Skirnir quickly then rejoin\u2019d,\n \u201cIs term\u2019d by the Asar the _ceiling blue_;\n The Vaner term it the _realm of wind_:\n And _drypsal_[84] \u2019tis call\u2019d by the Dvergar crew:\n _Fairloft_ by the Alfs: by the Giants \u2019tis hight\n _Opheim_.[85]\u201d All these answers, \u2019twas plain to see,\n Were much approved by the ferrying wight,\n And Skirnir\u2019s cakes he devour\u2019d with glee.\n\n \u201cTo the moon by the Dwarfs, I know full well,\n Of _yellow-shiner_ the name is given:\n By the Asar, _dreamer in the vale_:\n By Hela \u2019tis term\u2019d the _wheel of heaven_:\n By the Alfs, _year-reckoner_: the Giants proud\n With the name _inconstant_ soil the moon:\u201d\n Then Harbard chuckled, and cried aloud:\n \u201cMuch knowledge, \u2019tis plain, thou hast, my son!\u201d\n\n \u201cThe sun is call\u2019d the _darter of rays_\n In Valaskialf by the Asar all:\n But the Dwarfs, who cannot endure its blaze,\n _Sight-blinder_ the glorious orb miscall:\n \u2019Tis named by the Alfs the _wreath of gold_:\n _Night-vanquisher_ by the Giant breed.\u201d\n These answers grave Harbard much extoll\u2019d,\n And herrings he eat with his oaten bread.\n\n \u201cThe cloud that flits the heavens along\n Is term\u2019d by the Asar the _car of Thor_:\n _Rain-dropper_ in every Vaner\u2019s song:\n And _runaway_ base in the Giant\u2019s lore:\n By the Alfs _shade-giver_; the Dwarfs, who thrive\n In their grots, and dislike the glare of day,[86]\n To the cloud the term _umbrella_ give,\n Since it shields them well from the solar ray.\n\n \u201cThe wind doth many a title claim\n From the denizens of air and earth:\n The _wide-embracer_ is its name,\n The _blust\u2019rer_, _railer_, and so forth.\n The _metal-melter_, the _smoky-veil\u2019d_,\n Are appellations given to fire.\n And _hair of the earth_ the trees are call\u2019d,\n When their branches wave in their green attire.\u201d\n\n Fresh questions the boatman grave proposed,\n But the answers of Skirnir never fail.\n Of day and of night the names he posed,\n And those bestow\u2019d on corn and ale.\n Then Harbard said: \u201cNe\u2019er met my eyes\n A man with wisdom so profound:\n Yet Gestur\u2019s riddles, I surmise,\n Will far beyond thy reach be found.\u201d\n\n Grim Harbard now unmoor\u2019d his bark,\n And briskly Skirnir stepp\u2019d on board;\n For naught he valued the Giants dark,\n And felt secure with his trusty sword.\n And though the frightful boatman stared\n As stiff as a corpse with his evil eye,\n Yet not a whit was the hero scared,\n For his witchcraft all he could well defy.\n\n But Harbard soon lays down his oar,\n For lo! the skiff no guidance needs:\n Steady it nears the mountain shore,\n Urged by the stream, which upwards speeds.\n Unlike all other streams this wave,\n Which from the mountains take their source,\n And toward the sea, their common grave,\n Flow downward with unerring course.[87]\n\n Swift gliding on the wizard brook,\n They reach a drear and barren spot,\n Where dews in vain bathe the naked rock,\n Nor plant nor blade of grass takes root.\n No bird\u2019s soft carol here fills the sky,\n All nature here seems a lifeless corse;\n Naught is heard but the owl, which flitting by\n Assails the ear with warnings hoarse.\n\n \u2019Twas night: the earth in frost was bound:\n Thick flakes of snow from heaven descend:\n Rising on every side around,\n Huge ice-bergs seem their course to fend:\n The shaggy beard of Harbard froze,\n And icicles his ringlets deck\u2019d:\n But naught could Skirnir discompose;\n On him the cold had no effect.\n\n \u2019Twas day: a torrent rustling through\n A drear and sandy desert flow\u2019d;\n The wind like breath from furnace blew;\n The sun was veil\u2019d by sultry cloud;\n A thirsty buffalo its snout\n Protruded from the tepid wave:\n Yet scorching heats and vapours naught\n Affect the nerves of Skirnir brave.\n\n Quoth Harbard: \u201cFriend! I must allow,\n Thy nature can all climes withstand:\n Thou heedest neither Greenland\u2019s snow,\n Nor scorching suns of Negroland.\u201d\n Then Skirnir answer\u2019d smiling. \u201cRight!\n Nor heat nor cold should travellers dread:\n Were I a soft effeminate wight,\n Think\u2019st thou, I should so far have sped?\u201d\n\n The bark now with redoubled speed\n Shot \u2019gainst a perpendic\u2019lar rock;\n The bark had timbers proof at need,\n Else were it split by such a shock:\n But naught alarm\u2019d was Skirnir bold,\n When dash\u2019d against the marble steep.\n Now Harbard\u2019s brows in wrinkles roll\u2019d,\n And many a curse he murmur\u2019d deep.\n\n \u201cNow we\u2019re arrived upon the strand;\n Yon silver-hair\u2019d blind veteran see!\n If thou hast wit at thy command,\n The cavern\u2019s gate he\u2019ll ope for thee.\n If thou his riddles canst unravel,\n The mountain\u2019s treasures he\u2019ll display:\n But hast thou doubts, \u2019twere best to travel\n Homeward, young friend, without delay.\n\n \u201cFor Gestur none admits, before\n His[88] riddles they correct unfold:\n In chains of copper by his door\n Yon four ferocious dogs behold!\n His riddles shouldst thou fail to guess,\n On thee he\u2019ll loose his mastiffs strait;\n Then will thy mangled limbs express\n In language clear the wand\u2019rer\u2019s fate.\u201d\n\n \u201cI am prepared for all his guile;\n Let him begin forthwith his task!\n And thou wilt find, that I have skill\n To solve each riddle he may ask.\u201d\n \u201cNay! nay! thou dost, advent\u2019rous youth,\n Thy skill, perhaps, too highly prize:\n But now \u2019tis time from Gestur\u2019s mouth\n To hear them: Hark!\u201d aloud he cries.\n\n GESTUR.\n\n What is it that union and mirth inspires,\n Yet oft is the cause of quarrel and strife?\n Which oft the tongue with eloquence fires,\n Yet oft deprives it of power and life?\n\n SKIRNIR.\n\n Not difficult is this question, I trow;\n Mead is the key to the riddle proposed:\n Wit from the mead-horn doth often flow;\n By the mead-cup oft is the fool exposed.\n\n GESTUR.\n\n I pass\u2019d on a road, where three roads met,\n Yet these roads never touch\u2019d each other.\n Howe\u2019er ingenious thy mother wit,\n Here\u2019s a nut to crack, thy brains will bother.\n\n SKIRNIR.\n\n To a frost-bound river thou didst come,\n And o\u2019er the ice thou didst glide with speed,\n While under thy feet the fishes swum,\n And birds in the air flew o\u2019er thy head.\n\n GESTUR.\n\n I yesterday drank, but water \u2019twas not,\n Nor any pottage with liquid drench\u2019d,\n Nor wine, nor beer, nor mead was my lot,\n Yet my burning thirst was easily quench\u2019d.\n\n SKIRNIR.\n\n Beneath a tree thou didst lay thee down.\n While the _dews_ of night all creation drench\u2019d;\n At morn thou didst lick the dew from the stone,\n And thus thy thirst was easily quench\u2019d.\n\n GESTUR.\n\n A two nosed bride groom I know full well,\n Who kisses his bride with such ardent zeal,\n That if thy finger were placed between,\n His nose would smash both bone and skin.\n\n SKIRNIR.\n\n The answer deft I can scarcely miss:\n Who would not shrink from the ardent kiss,\n That the _hammer_ to the anvil gives,\n When his trade the smith laborious drives?\n\n GESTUR.\n\n Two creatures without lungs I know;\n Yet such is the force with which they blow,\n That metals they melt, and snakes they breed,\n Which have power to hiss and to bite, when dead.\n\n SKIRNIR.\n\n Thy lungless wights are the smith\u2019s _vast bellows_,\n And _swords_ for the warrior\u2019s use they form:\n How weak would prove e\u2019en the bravest fellows\n Without their swords in the battle\u2019s storm!\n\n GESTUR.\n\n A wondrous weaver there is forsooth,\n Who sits on his woof, and weaves his cloth:\n His eyes are four, and his legs are eight,\n And his knees exceed his body in height.\n\n SKIRNIR.\n\n I would not as model of beauty cite\n The _spider_, yet he\u2019s an industrious wight;\n He\u2019s thrifty too; and from his own breast\n He weaves his woof, and he builds his nest.\n\n GESTUR.\n\n \u2019Twas black as a raven, and bright as a shield,\n And sharp as a spit, as it lay on the field,\n But lately it glow\u2019d with an ardent flame,\n But now like the grave it is cold and tame.\n\n SKIRNIR.\n\n Thou sawst the _lava_ from Hecla flow,\n Which in the sun\u2019s beam so bright did glow;\n But o\u2019er snow-clad fields meandering down,\n It ceased to flow, and it turn\u2019d to stone.\n\n GESTUR.\n\n Of a white-hair\u2019d female I\u2019ve been told,\n Who well knows how white balls to mould;\n Yet hath this female never a hand:\n This riddle, pray! dost thou understand?\n\n SKIRNIR.\n\n \u2019Tis the long-neck\u2019d _swan_ with its colour white,\n Who loves to sail on the lake so bright:\n No hands hath she, but her yellow feet\n Can give to her eggs the figure meet.\n\n GESTUR.\n\n A corpse sat riding a corpse upon,\n And though without life the steed moved on;\n Across the river it speeded fast,\n And stopp\u2019d on the opposite bank at last.\n\n SKIRNIR.\n\n On the ice lay a _horse_ deprived of breath,\n And on it an _eagle_ frozen to death:\n On the drifting ice the courser sped\n Across the stream, although it was dead.\n\n GESTUR.\n\n Who is it in ashes sleeps like a slave,\n And seems neither life nor vigour to have?\n Yet when \u2019tis angry, and throws off its mask,\n O! then its mercy \u2019tis vain to ask.\n\n SKIRNIR.\n\n In the midst of ashes the glimmering _spark_\n No one ever deigns to notice or mark:\n Yet should it escape, and flame abroad,\n Then woe to each straw-roof\u2019d dwelling of wood!\n\n GESTUR.\n\n Who is that wizard with cloak of grey\n That speeds o\u2019er forest and stream his way?\n Who flies \u2019fore the wind, and not from the lance,\n And darkens the sun\u2019s beneficent glance?\n\n SKIRNIR.\n\n Thy riddle is easy, O Gestur blind!\n \u2019Tis the _cloud_ compels the sun to yield:\n But Niord comes riding upon the wind,\n And the cloud in turn must quit the field.\n\n GESTUR.\n\n What beast is that in yonder field\n Whose house protects him like a shield?\n Toad-like in form, his house of horn\n May laugh the serpent\u2019s tooth to scorn.\n\n SKIRNIR.\n\n The _tortoise_ thou must mean, I\u2019m sure:\n Beneath his shell he sits secure:\n Happy the chief who takes the field,\n Guarded by such a powerful shield!\n\n GESTUR.\n\n Who are those lively females, say!\n In summer clad in hue of clay,\n But when stern winter hovers in sight,\n They flaunt in bridal robes of white?\n\n SKIRNIR.\n\n Thou speakst of _partridges_, I guess;\n While winter lasts, white is their dress;\n Like bears, their coats aside they fling,\n And brown, like clay, become in spring.\n\n GESTUR.\n\n What nymphs are those, who speed away,\n Unmarried, to their dying day;\n White caps on their dark locks are worn,\n And flowing trains their backs adorn?\n\n SKIRNIR.\n\n Thou meanest sure the _waves_ of ocean,\n Which winds so easy put in motion,\n But to a speedy end they come;\n Their joy is naught but froth and scum.\n\n GESTUR.\n\n Who plunges oft in the sea profound,\n And joys with tooth to seize the ground?\n Who saveth many a chieftain good\n From dangers dire by wind or flood?\n\n SKIRNIR.\n\n This riddle doth, O wizard blind!\n With thoughts sublime inspire my mind:\n The _anchor_ surely thou dost mean,\n Emblem of Hope to mortal men.\n\n GESTUR.\n\n What guests are those, that in silence drain\n A cup, which unemptied doth still remain?\n Though the guests in silence their bellies fill,\n The cup itself makes a clamour shrill.\n\n SKIRNIR.\n\n Each little _pig_ abstains from noise,\n When he his mother\u2019s milk enjoys:\n But never the mother can silence keep,\n She grunts for pastime loud and deep.\n\n GESTUR.\n\n Thy wits will fail thee, I surmise,\n Shouldst thou perchance a monster meet,\n Who boasts ten tongues and twenty eyes,\n With twice five tails, and forty feet.\n\n SKIRNIR.\n\n Thy frightful beast, O Gestur blind!\n Can with no terrors fill my mind:\n The pregnant _sow_ be pleased to slay\n That stands by yonder trough, I pray!\u201d\n\n The sow was slain; such was her doom;\n They counted the pigs in the mother\u2019s womb:\n Skirnir, in troth, had guess\u2019d aright,\n For lo! nine farrow appear\u2019d in sight.\n\n The news threw Gestur into fits;\n Too great for him was this mental shock:\n Changed to a statue there he sits\n For aye, upon that fatal rock!\n\n Now wagg\u2019d their tails, were mild and tame\n The dogs, so fierce and wild before:\n When Skirnir to the mountain came,\n Wide open flew the cavern door:\n\n And in went Skirnir, fearless swain,\n His master\u2019s errand to fulfil:\n Of peril reckless and of pain,\n He felt he was an Asa still.\n\n Through the rock\u2019s windings intricate\n Without a torch he found the road;\n He reach\u2019d an open silver gate,\n Near which a stream o\u2019er diamonds flow\u2019d.\n\n\n\n\nCANTO XXIV.\n\nGERDA\u2019S LOVE.\n\n\n Skirnir the open silver portal view\u2019d,\n And through an archway straight his course pursued:\n The passage, cut through coal, and polish\u2019d bright,\n Gave to the traveller sufficient light.\n But soon, when he some paces onward sped,\n Again the starry vault shone o\u2019er his head.\n To a court-yard he came; and there his eyes\n Met with a sight that fill\u2019d him with surprize:\n For there, instead of ducks and hens, a brood\n Of snakes and lizards crawl\u2019d about for food,[89]\n Which from her apron\u2019s fold a maiden threw,\n And call\u2019d them to be fed in accents strange and new.\n But all at once the maid, when she espied\n The swain, rush\u2019d back behind a porch, and cried\n Stoutly for help: her speech brave Skirnir naught\n Could comprehend; \u2019twas Finnish, as he thought.\n A numerous train of carles and maidens, scared\n At the shrill sound, slept forth and round them stared.\n Skirnir observ\u2019d them close: their stature short\n And squab: their visage sallow; coarse, lank, swart\n Their hair; small eyes that with no meaning glow;\n Nostrils compress\u2019d; a forehead flat and low;\n Their fingers, like dried carrots, long and lean;\n Awkward their gait; ignoble all their mien:\n Their looks betray, so lustreless, so tame,\n Their portion scant of the celestial flame:\n In Finnmark and in Greenland such a race\n May still be found, devoid of soul or grace.\n \u201cNow help me, Thor!\u201d quoth Skirnir, in despite:\n \u201cHath my good master lost his senses quite?\n Is then his love a witch like one of these,\n Whose aspect bare the warmest blood would freeze?\n Love\u2019s blind, they say, but madness \u2019twere, forsooth,\n For such a hero in the bloom of youth\n To pair off with a damsel so uncouth.\u201d\n\n Thus musing towards the porch he cast a glance,\n And there beheld from \u2019midst her train advance\n The beauteous Gerda: wonder and delight\n Enchant his soul at such a vision bright!\n He stood entranced, and dumb: e\u2019en so doth stand\n The humble swain, when at his lord\u2019s command\n He ploughs the earth, and turning up the mould,\n Discovers fill\u2019d with coins a vase of gold.\n Now could he well conceive his master\u2019s flame,\n For ne\u2019er his eyes beheld a lovelier dame:\n Not golden-hued her locks, like those which deck\n The brow of Freya; down her ivory neck\n Part flow in ebon ringlets, part entwine\n With many a glossy wreath her front divine:\n Not heavenly blue her eyes, like those which grace\n The lofty females of the Asar race;\n But like two garnets dark they fervent beam,\n And fix the heart with soul-subduing gleam.\n In just proportion every feature shone,\n And all combin\u2019d to form a paragon.\n\n Now Skirnir, when the power of speech again\n He felt, address\u2019d the fair, and to explain\n His mission straight began; but with disdain\n Hasty she answer\u2019d: \u201cTo thy lord return!\n And tell him, Frey for me may vainly burn.\n Ne\u2019er let him hope to touch my heart, still less\n The mountain damsel in his arms to press:\n I hate him; is he not of Asar race?\n And can we e\u2019er forget the dire disgrace\n Heap\u2019d on us giants? by their mystic spells\n Our Utgard-Lok in gloomiest caverns dwells.\n Yet is his prison vast; we still can boast\n A world more glorious than the one we\u2019ve lost.\n We hold more treasures in our grots profound,\n Than on the surface of the earth are found.\n With ether\u2019s glitt\u2019ring orbs let Odin toy;\n In frothy billows \u00c6gir seek his joy;\n Frigga in fading flow\u2019rets boast her choice;\n The Alfs in unsubstantial air rejoice:\n But we possess fire, metals, precious stones,\n At our command the fierce volcano groans:\n We need but nod, as the proud courser shakes\n His mane, earth with a fev\u2019rish motion quakes:\n Walls, castles, towns are levell\u2019d with the ground,\n And forests sink in wat\u2019ry wastes profound.\n Though Odin in Valhalla boast his might,\n Lok hath an elder and superior right,\n And earth still owns him lord: but think! O think!\n The time will come when all your power shall shrink:\n Your race expire; Valhall in flames be hurl\u2019d;\n Though now ye vainly dream to rule the world.\u201d\n\n Now to fair Gerda answer\u2019d Skirnir mild:\n \u201cWho taught thee such conceits? thou lovely child!\n Not from thy own conception comes thy speech;\n Too innocent thy heart such flights to reach:\n For Utgard-Lok thou knowst not, ne\u2019er hast seen,\n With hair upright like quills and swarthy mien:\n This from thy father thou hast learnt, I ween.\n \u2019Tis well; that thy opinions are the same\n As his, who shall thy filial reverence blame?\n Yet think again! but distantly art thou\n Allied with Utgard-Lok, who reigns below:\n Naught with that chief in common dost thou share;\n He, frightful to behold; thou, wondrous fair.\n Like rose-bud thou, t\u2019embalm the air design\u2019d;\n Like deadly nightshade he, to blast mankind.\n Yet oft the virtues of a child suffice\n To expiate her father\u2019s crimes and vice:\n From unlike sources various products spring;\n Joy sometimes grief; misfortune bliss doth bring.\n Between the sand runs not the muddy stream\n So long, till purified it shows a gleam\n Like that of diamond? in its surface bright\n The maidens then to view their forms delight.\n From mould impure sweet flowers their birth derive,\n Yet lift their heads in air, and fragrant thrive.\n Now let the rose of love thy front entwine,\n And with earth\u2019s brightest jewel heaven combine!\u201d\n\n Now Gerda thus replied in soften\u2019d tone:\n \u201cThy speech is courteous and discreet, I own:\n With zeal and eloquence dost thou fulfill\n The task imposed thee by thy sov\u2019reign\u2019s will:\n So now depart! but first, I pray thee, taste,\n Thy strength to renovate, our night\u2019s repast,\n Then quick returning to thy bright domain\n Inform thy anxious lord, his suit is vain.\n Tell him, however prudent, smooth and kind\n Thy words, they naught have influenc\u2019d Gerda\u2019s mind.\n Stout champions, brave in war, our mountains yield,\n Chiefs, whom in power the Asar ne\u2019er excell\u2019d:\n Should such a chief one day his passion prove\n For me, and bend my heart to mutual love,\n Then will the mountain nymph with joy and pride\n Accept his hand, and hail the name of bride.\n Here in my native vales content I live;[90]\n \u2019Midst mountains high, and fountains clear I thrive.\n A princess too by birth, born to command,\n Among the giant race pre-eminent I stand.\n And, trust me! not so humble or so low\n Doth Gerda feel, as with submissive brow\n T\u2019intrude herself amongst the gods on high;\n To meet contempt from every Disa\u2019s eye,\n Who hold my birth too mean, myself too base\n To form alliance with the Asar race.\u201d\n\n \u201cTherein thou dost the fair Asynior wrong;\n (Thus Skirnir answer\u2019d with persuasive tongue)\n Pride, arrogance prevail amongst mankind,\n But in a Disa\u2019s soul ne\u2019er harbour find.\n The features grand that mark the gods on high\n Are virtue, wisdom, and simplicity,\n Not birth; since \u2019tis well known the gods among,\n That Thor and Odin both from nothing sprung,\n Like insects, at Alfader\u2019s nod; though now\n On Valhall\u2019s throne they sit with radiant brow.\u201d\n\n To him replied the lively Gerda: \u201cLove,\n For what we know not, we can never prove.\n I know my native vale, each rock, each field,\n But Frey or Valhall ne\u2019er my eyes beheld.\n Me hath he never seen; whence springs his flame\n At once so ardent for the mountain dame?\n Methinks, to tell thee truth, my gentle swain!\n All goes not right in thy fond master\u2019s brain.\u201d\n\n And now his master\u2019s actions and his fate\n Did Skirnir circumstantially relate:\n How he ascended Hlidskialf\u2019s lofty tower,\n And what from thence he view\u2019d in Gerda\u2019s bower:\n How, when her charms she bared, love\u2019s potent dart\n At once transfix\u2019d his vacillating heart.\n\n With downcast look and palpitating breast,\n Deep blushing, Gerda listen\u2019d to her guest.\n But when young Skirnir talk\u2019d about the moon,\n She laughed, and quick resumed her jesting tone.\n \u201cIf like the moon thy master be,\u201d she said,\n \u201cLet him ne\u2019er hope to win a youthful maid!\n For pale and sallow is the moon; such hue\n All blooming damsels with repugnance view:\n Such love is lukewarm.\u201d--\u201cNay!\u201d the swain replied,\n \u201cDid Frey once press thee in his arms as bride,\n Thou wouldst not of his lukewarm love complain;\n But since my powers of argument are vain,\n \u2019Twere best I seek my couch; but first, I pray,\n Let me the bower, where thou dost sleep, survey.\n A present from my sov\u2019reign lord I bear\n For thee, which I would fain deposit there.\u201d\n Laughing, she pointed out her chamber-door,\n Then went herself his supper to procure;\n For Gerda was by nature good and kind,\n And Skirnir\u2019s jovial frankness pleased her mind.\n\n Skirnir now stood alone; her couch he view\u2019d,\n Near which a vase of alabaster stood,\n Wherein the maid, before she went to rest,\n Was wont to lave her face, her arms, her breast:\n \u2019Twas fill\u2019d with water: with his project pleas\u2019d,\n In haste his horn the gallant Skirnir seiz\u2019d;\n Within the vase all its contents he pour\u2019d.\n And charged it with the image of his lord.\n This done, he left the bower of Gerda strait,\n And his own chamber sought with mind elate.\n\n But now the mountain damsel, when her guest\n And all her menials had retired to rest,\n Flew to her chamber, curious to behold\n The gift from Valhall brought by Skirnir bold.\n Curling her lip, as maids are wont to do,\n She thus exclaim\u2019d with laugh contemptuous: \u201cNow\n I needs must view the wond\u2019rous present given\n By the enamour\u2019d denizen of heaven.\n What can it be? diamonds, or rubies bright,\n Silver, or gold are common in my sight:\n Such treasures in our spacious grots abound,\n But in the skies, I trow, are seldom found.\u201d\n But when around she look\u2019d, and naught could find,\n She laughed again, but anger vex\u2019d her mind:\n \u201cI thought as much; a miserable joke;\n Worthy of Asar;\u201d jeering thus she spoke.\n \u201cI must allow, the gods do far surpass\n In fraud and mockery our giant race.\u201d\n\n And now the maid began to loose her zone,\n And from her shoulders doff the woollen gown:\n Bared to the middle by the diamond\u2019s light\n She stands; what glorious charms appear in sight!\n In th\u2019 hollow of her hand she caught the wave\n To cool her purple cheek, her front to lave;\n But when she view\u2019d the image bright of Frey\n Reflected in the wave, a piercing cry\n She gave, and started back with fear assail\u2019d;\n Then blushing, cross-ways o\u2019er her bosom held\n Her arms, and catching up her robe in haste,\n Around her beauteous body wound it fast.\n But soon to admiration changed her fear,\n And to her mind the stratagem was clear.\n Wrapp\u2019d in her garment to the neck, she flew\n Once more the image beautiful to view:\n The form divine of the enchanting god\n Melted the maiden\u2019s heart, and fired her blood:\n What majesty displays his forehead high!\n What tender mournful smiles beam from his eye\n Of fire! his bosom seems t\u2019exhale a sigh:\n \u2019Twas meant for Gerda; from his polish\u2019d brow\n Adown his ivory neck the golden tresses flow:\n With hand placed on his heart he seems to say;\n \u201cHere Gerda reigns with undisputed sway!\u201d\n Pensive awhile she stood; nor was aware\n That down her damask cheek had roll\u2019d a tear\n Into her lover\u2019s mouth: an ardent flame,\n O wonder! from the gelid water came,\n And enter\u2019d deep her heart: now with a sigh,\n O\u2019er the vase leaning, she exclaim\u2019d: \u201cO Frey!\u201d\n Then sudden started back once more, afraid,\n Some prying witness might her bower invade:\n But when secure that she alone was there,\n She oft bow\u2019d down to kiss the image fair.\n It vanish\u2019d now within the eddying wave,\n Which had the power thy purple mouth to lave,\n But not to cool thy lips, O virgin bright!\n But when the water clear again in sight\n Brought back the image of the god beloved,\n Reflection deep the heart of Gerda moved.\n Seldom with greater care explores the sage\n The vast conceptions that his mind engage,\n Than doth the deep-enamour\u2019d maiden trace\n Each separate feature of her lover\u2019s face;\n O\u2019erlooking, while each beauty glads her heart,\n In favour of the whole, each faulty part.\n But here must Gerda search for faults in vain;\n Perfect was Frey; without one flaw or stain\n His form; a god, a prince amongst the Asar train.\n Now vanish\u2019d all her pride; she now became\n Soft as a dove, and gentle as a lamb:\n Now slides her \u2019kerchief from her ivory neck;\n The air was warm; no fears her passion check.\n \u201cThis image, by the waves\u2019 reflection made,\n This image cannot see,\u201d she blushing said:\n \u201cI cannot rest enjoy, until I lave\n My arms and bosom in the cooling wave.\u201d\n\n Thus said, her tunic from her breast she threw,\n And stood with half her charms exposed to view:\n \u2019Twas thus, as poets tell, fair Embla stood,\n When bursting from the tree her Askur first she view\u2019d.\n Now on her couch she fain would court repose,\n But strove in vain to sleep; full oft she rose\n To look into the basin standing nigh,\n And contemplate the much-lov\u2019d form of Frey.\n\n At length the gentle Siofna, who unseen\n \u2019Midst Gerda\u2019s train had enter\u2019d, and the scene\n Had witness\u2019d, felt compassion for the maid,\n And waved her poppy garland o\u2019er her head:\n She closed her eyelids with her magic art.\n And sent delightful dreams to gladden Gerda\u2019s heart.\n\n\n\n\nCANTO XXV.\n\nSKIRNIR FULFILS HIS ERRAND.\n\nRespecting the metre of this Canto, see the note.\n\n\n When Skirnir awoke at the morning light,\n (The sunbeams redden the sky)\n With friendly mien, all with brass bedight,\n The Giant his couch stood by;\n\n Like a Guldbrand pine so tall, so strong;\n (The birds on the trees sing sweet)\n In his hand he bore an iron pole long,\n And Skirnir he came to greet.\n\n His daughter stood near him with witching look;\n (On the flow\u2019rets the dew-drops shine)\n As the ivy around the gnarled oak,\n Thus did Gerda her sire entwine.\n\n A cup of drink for Skirnir he bore;\n (The sunbeams redden the sky)\n \u201cBefore,\u201d quoth he, \u201cthou leavest my door,\n Hear, and take with thee my reply!\n\n \u201cYoung Frey loves dearly my daughter bright;\n (The birds on the trees sing sweet)\n And if I have read in her soul aright,\n She thinks him a consort meet.\n\n \u201cBut thou knowest, without her father\u2019s yea,\n (On the flow\u2019rets the dew-drops shine)\n \u2019Tis all labour lost; but, the truth to say,\n I to favour this match incline.\n\n \u201cBut goods must be given in change for goods;\n (The sunbeams redden the sky)\n And heretofore \u2019twixt Giants and Gods\n Hath not flourish\u2019d much amity.\n\n \u201cYoung Frey hath a sword, the best i\u2019 the north,\n (The birds on the trees sing sweet)\n And Gerda, methinks, is that sword well worth;\n So on just conditions I\u2019ll treat.\n\n \u201cWhen the heart once loves with fervour and truth,\n (On the flow\u2019rets the dew-drops shine)\n In war no longer delights the youth;\n He sighs at his mistress\u2019 shrine.\n\n \u201cLet Frey then give me his mystic sword!\n (The sunbeams redden the sky)\n My daughter dear will I then accord\n As consort to him for aye.\n\n \u201cBut if he refuse to cede the glaive,\n (The birds on the trees sing sweet)\n The hardest rock that repels the wave\n He might just as well entreat.\u201d\n\n With this answer the swain rode homeward bound,\n (On the flow\u2019rets the dew-drops shine)\n And returning, shorter the road he found\n Than in coming, ye may divine.\n\n As he gallop\u2019d once more o\u2019er the flow\u2019ry mead,\n (The sunbeams redden the sky)\n He thought, by the rustling his falchion made,\n Of Odin the lord so high.\n\n The magic fetter came o\u2019er his mind\n (The birds on the trees sing sweet)\n That was destin\u2019d Fenris the wolf to bind:\n Then he jump\u2019d from his courser fleet,\n\n And began to climb up on Elver-hoy:\n (On the flow\u2019rets the dew-drops shine)\n And there two dwarfs he perceiv\u2019d with joy\n Fit to execute his design.\n\n There they sit, and enjoy the morning breeze;\n (The sunbeams redden the sky)\n They love to rest under branching trees,\n But from the sun\u2019s glare they fly.\n\n And oft they dance on the humid grass,\n (The birds on the trees sing sweet)\n And joy the mystic circle to trace\n On the turf with their nimble feet.\n\n When Skirnir met them, he bared his sword,\n (On the flow\u2019rets the dew-drops shine)\n And thus address\u2019d them with threat\u2019ning word:\n \u201cHear me, little masters mine!\n\n \u201cBy Odin\u2019s order I crave your aid\n (The sunbeams redden the sky)\n For Fenris wolf a fetter to braid;\n This instant your labours ply!\n\n \u201cIf not, I will slay ye both, I swear.\u201d\n (The birds on the trees sing sweet)\n The little men, how they shook with fear!\n They scarce could stand on their feet.\n\n They blink like mice with their little eyes.\n (On the flow\u2019rets the dew-drops shine)\n \u201cNay! put up thy sword!\u201d each Dwarf replies;\n \u201cBehold! here\u2019s the magic twine!\n\n \u201cWe heard of the order that Odin gave,\n (The sunbeams redden the sky)\n And the very best cord shall Odin have\n To bind his arch-enemy.\n\n \u201cThis fetter was forged, O Skirnir, hear!\n (The birds on the trees sing sweet)\n Of the beards of woman; the nerves of bear;\n Of the noise of a kitten\u2019s feet;\n\n \u201cOf the breath of birds; of fishes\u2019 scum;\n (On the flowrets the dew-drops shine)\n Of the roots of rocks; with finger and thumb\n Have we full\u2019d this wondrous line.\u201d\n\n Now from them the swain took the magic chain,\n (The sunbeams redden the sky)\n And the Dwarfs they fled to their grots again,\n And Skirnir vaulted on high.\n\n Now Bifrost appears with its brilliant sheen;\n (The birds on the trees sing sweet)\n Its tints enliven the sky serene\n The returning chief to greet.\n\n Like a bird in spring brave Skirnir flew\n (On the flow\u2019rets the dew-drops shine)\n And Valhall anew much he joy\u2019d to view,\n And partake of S\u00e2hrimner\u2019s chine.\n\n And now he relates to Odin and Frey\n How their mandates he fulfill\u2019d;\n Odin smiled on the swain with a grateful eye,\n Frey\u2019s bosom with rapture thrill\u2019d.\n\n Praise and honours on Skirnir overflow;\n What pleasure in Valhall reigns!\n For Frey shall now be freed from his woe,\n And Fenris be bound in chains.\n\n\n\n\nCANTO XXVI.\n\nTHE WOLF FENRIS AND TYR.\n\n\n What joys Valhalla\u2019s realm pervade!\n In brilliant nuptial dress array\u2019d,\n A last farewell bids Gerda now\n To forest, rock, and vale below.\n Towards Bifrost bridge ascends the fair;\n Like shooting star she cleaves the air.\n On heaven\u2019s exterior bulwark stand\n In pride of place th\u2019 Asynior bland:\n And when their scrutinizing eye\n Survey\u2019d the darling choice of Frey,\n As full in Asgard\u2019s view she came,\n Vanish\u2019d at once each latent flame\n Of envy, sullenness, and pride,\n And all admired the graceful bride.\n Her glossy ringlets ebon dark\n A contrast not unpleasing mark\n With the bright locks of golden hue,\n Which down the Disar\u2019s shoulders flow.\n\n They welcome her with tones of love,\n And lead her straight to Freya\u2019s grove:\n Gluing to Gerda\u2019s lips of rose\n Her own, what joy each Disa shows!\n And every Asa courts the bliss\n Her well-turned lily hand to kiss.\n Of Frey\u2019s content I need not speak,\n Therein must fail my harpings weak.\n He who hath courted, and hath known\n What \u2019tis to call his maid his own,\n He knows and feels it too; while naught\n Can by the art of Scald be taught.\n But such sensation, youth! if thou\n Yet knowest not, go learn it now!\n And when in thy fond maiden\u2019s arms,\n Thou gloatest on her radiant charms,\n And feelst \u2019twere primest ecstacy\n Or thus to live, or thus to die,\n Then wouldst thou know, and couldst reveal\n The joys that Frey and Gerda feel.\n\n Here ends my song of love; too soon\n My harp must sound with diff\u2019rent tone:\n Oft from the lay sweet echoes spring,\n As from the little bird in spring,\n When, flutt\u2019ring through the beechen grove,\n He fills the air with notes of love.\n Oft too its tones the ear assail\n With sound as harsh as that of whale,\n When he, through ice-bergs struggling, blows\n And snorts amain with giant throes.\n Like foam, the words then hurried fly,\n Which from his nostrils mounts the sky,\n And forms a column gleaming bright\n Amidst the lurid clouds of night.\n The sweetest plant of joy beneath\n Lurks oft, alas! the germ of death!\n Misfortune soon its power assumes;\n And \u2019midst the liveliest joys and fumes\n Of pleasure on the marriage night\n Intrudes with livid face, Affright!\n True, shouts of joy Valhalla shook;\n But sudden, springing from a nook,\n Fenris the wolf, with eye of flame,\n Unwelcome guest, to the banquet came:\n He paced around with fiendish grin,\n Snapping at every Asa\u2019s chin:\n And oft with unremitting spite\n The Disar\u2019s legs he strove to bite.\n\n But Odin, weary of this bane,\n Possessing now the mystic chain\n Wherewith to bind the hateful beast,\n To Heimdal whisper\u2019d his behest;\n And quick transferr\u2019d the magic band\n Into that faithful Asa\u2019s hand.\n Heimdal, he knew, had skill and wit;\n To cope with Fenris none more fit:\n And next to Lok he boasts the pow\u2019r\n In jesting to beguile the hour.\n The wit of Heimdal, void of hate\n Or malice, bloom\u2019d like violet:\n But not innocuous Loptur\u2019s jest,\n Like thorn, it lacerates the breast.\n Heimdaller, holding now the band\n Slender as bowstring in his hand,\n Approach\u2019d the wolf, and with a smile:\n \u201cLet us,\u201d said he, \u201cthe time beguile,\n Since, banish\u2019d to the realm of Hel,\n Sorrow and hate have bid farewell\n For ever to Valhalla\u2019s court,\n With some diverting manly sport!\n In honour of Frey\u2019s nuptial feast\n Let each some art that suits him best\n Exert to please the gods! and thou,\n My wolf! thy feats of strength mayst show:\n For deeds of strength they all admire;\n And thou must, sure, the prize acquire.\u201d\n\n \u201cYes!\u201d grinn\u2019d maliciously the wolf:\n \u201cWhat thou hast said is true enough:\n The hammer, when by strength or skill\n Unexercised, is useless still.\n But first allow me to demand,\n What means that fetter in thy hand?\n Thou Asa with the golden tooth!\n Wouldst bind me like a dog, forsooth?\u201d\n \u201cHe, who hath power himself to free,\n Cannot be fetter\u2019d easily:\n The slave is bound; but in the hand\n Of strength an honourable band\n Becomes the fetter:\u201d (thus replied\n Heimdaller.) \u201cAnd since \u2019tis thy pride\n The strongest iron bars to gnaw\n In two, as if \u2019twere so much straw,\n Permit me, to afford delight\n To Odin and the Disar bright,\n To bind thee with this brittle chain,\n Which thou canst surely bite in twain.\u201d\n\n And now the wolf began to look\n Around him for his father Lok;\n But all in vain; no Lok was there;\n The hateful beast then scowl\u2019d with fear,\n And sunk his tail, and show\u2019d his tooth,\n And loll\u2019d his tongue from his frothy mouth.\n Then howl\u2019d he forth in tones of spite:\n \u201cI will not thus be bound to-night:\n Go thy way, artful Heimdal! go!\n Methinks, it is not needful now\n On such a cord my strength to use,\n Thor, Frey, and Odin to amuse.\n On bars of brass or iron they\n Have seen me oft my strength display.\n If forged by common art that cord,\n No pleasure would such feat afford:\n But if by magic spell \u2019twere made,\n Then foully were the wolf betray\u2019d.\u201d\n\n Heimdaller blush\u2019d: but Asa-Tyr,\n The youthful page devoid of fear,\n When Heimdal\u2019s cheek so red he view\u2019d,\n In anger bit his lips to blood.\n He griev\u2019d to see an Asa droop,\n Unable with the wolf to cope,\n And from the contest forced to fly\n In silence and humility.\n\n To humble the malignant beast,\n Himself now enter\u2019d in the list,\n And cried aloud: \u201cCome, wolf! behold!\n My hand as hostage thou shalt hold!\n While round thy limbs the cord is laced,\n Within thy mouth shall it be placed,\n And lying at thy mercy there,\n Nor trick nor fraud hast thou to fear.\u201d\n\n On Tyr\u2019s presumption every god\n Astonish\u2019d look\u2019d: he tranquil stood.\n Now Thor thus whisper\u2019d: \u201cYouthful friend!\n What rashness! what dost thou pretend?\n Thy courage, certes, I admire,\n But naught a hero can aspire\n To do without his hand.\u201d \u201cNo fear\n I feel, thou cautious one!\u201d said Tyr.\n \u201cThy counsel sage I need not now;\n Two hands, perhaps, requirest thou,\n But thou shalt see, and frankly own,\n That Tyr can do with one alone.\u201d\n\n Thus said, his dexter hand the youth\n Into the wolf\u2019s wide-gaping mouth\n Undaunted thrust: the wolf is bound\n With the dwarfs\u2019 cord his limbs around.\n And now to loose or burst the chain\n He struggles hard, but all in vain:\n Since naught his utmost powers avail,\n The Asar laugh to see him quail.\n All laugh\u2019d, excepting Asa-Tyr;\n The sport, alas! hath cost him dear,\n For, bitten from the wrist, his hand\n In Fenris\u2019 bloody jaws remain\u2019d!\n\n But the youth, still undaunted, thrust\n The stump into a heap of dust,\n And stretching out his arm on high,\n He shouts with voice that rends the sky:\n \u201cNow first my strength innate I feel;\n Hard was the trial, yet \u2019tis well.\n Now to Vaulunder\u2019s forge I\u2019ll go,\n And he will make for Tyr, I know,\n A hand of iron, fit to wield\n Or glaive or mace i\u2019 th\u2019 bloody field:\n What foes will dare the chief environ,\n Whose hand and glaive are both of iron?\u201d\n\n Thus said, he left in haste the hall,\n Much pitied by the Disar all.\n They thought: \u201cO what a valiant youth!\n Thor\u2019s fame he will eclipse, forsooth.\u201d\n But Gerda\u2019s thoughts alone on Frey\n Were fix\u2019d; both breath\u2019d a tender sigh,\n And hied them to the shady grove\n To revel in the joys of love.\n\n On Thor now Odin cast a look;\n Thor silent stood; then Odin spoke:\n \u201cThis is too much! is\u2019t then our doom\n Brutal as giants to become?\n O rueful act! what boots, my friend,\n Courage by reason unrestrain\u2019d?\n Lost is thy hammer in the wave,\n And Frey hath giv\u2019n away his glaive,\n That glaive which caused a mortal chill,\n And whose bare look sufficed to kill;\n Now in the mountain cave it lies,\n And giants learn its worth to prize.\n True, the wolf Fenris is trepann\u2019d,\n But Tyr hath lost his dexter hand;\n Ran in the ocean rules her lord,\n And Skada shares the power with Niord.\u201d\n\n Thus said, As-Odin slowly rose;\n His robe around his limbs he throws:\n Vingolf he leaves with gloomy mind,\n But Asa-Thor remains behind.\n He sits with hand beneath his chin,\n And eyes the wolf with looks of spleen,\n But both keep silence: in the hall\n The waiting-damsels enter all,\n To quench the lights; in darkness now\n The god must sit with wrinkled brow:\n Yet still he fix\u2019d with looks of ire\n The wolf, whose eye-balls vomit fire.\n\n Now to a burst of laughter wild\n The god gave vent, which Hlidskialf fill\u2019d\n With terror; then the hall he left,\n And bang\u2019d the door, with fury chaf\u2019d.\n He doffs his helmet; through the air\n Shines, meteor-like, his streaming hair!\n He mounts his car; through heaven he rolls,\n And awful thunders shake the poles.\n Down on the earth all night he threw\n His lightnings; many a one he slew:\n Here towns and villages became\n A prey to th\u2019 all-devouring flame;\n A forest there of oak-trees fum\u2019d,\n Down to their very roots consum\u2019d.\n The children scream\u2019d; the mothers tore\n Their hair; Thor foam\u2019d like angry boar:\n And he, who whilom lov\u2019d to save,\n Prov\u2019d unrelenting as the grave.\n But when at length shone forth the day,\n Towards Trudvang\u2019s gate he bent his way;\n There Sif receiv\u2019d him in her arms,\n And strove to sooth his wild alarms.\n The goddess well knew how t\u2019assuage\n With bland caress his utmost rage;\n She knew his wrath would soon be o\u2019er,\n And tenderness resume its power.\n Then smiled the earth with tears of dew,\n Such as an infant\u2019s face bedew,\n Whose father too much wrath has shown\n And struck too hard his little one.\n Repentance now Thor\u2019s looks bespeak,\n And tears roll down his manly cheek,\n For he, when calm, was good and kind.\n He then sent down on th\u2019 morning wind\n Roska and Tialf to Gefion\u2019s[91] strand,\n And every circumjacent land,\n With gold and silver, to divide\n \u2019Mongst those whose dwellings were destroy\u2019d.\n The dead he to Valhalla brought,\n And next the helpless infants sought\n Who perish\u2019d on that fatal night;\n And bearing them to Folkvang\u2019s height,\n He bless\u2019d them all in Freya\u2019s name,\n And chang\u2019d to Alfs they straight became.\n Now wings upon their shoulders grew,\n And \u2019midst delights so strange and new,\n Meeting again, assembled there\n In Freya\u2019s grove, their parents dear,\n They sport and play the trees beneath,\n Unconscious they had suffer\u2019d death.\n\n\n\n\nCANTO XXVII.\n\nTHE BANQUET OF \u00c6GIR.\n\n\n Hlesey\u2019s an island of renown;\n But now \u2019tis small, for time and tide,\n Batt\u2019ring its base on every side,\n Into the sea have plough\u2019d it down;\n But great in times of old its worth;\n Then Hlesey could the rage abate\n Of the fierce Dragon of the north,\n Yclept by nations Kattegat.\n\n There, built of finest muscle-shell,\n Amidst vast beds of sea-weed bright,\n The vaulted hall appears in sight,\n Where \u00c6gir ever lov\u2019d to dwell.\n While raging Ran o\u2019er ocean flew,\n By his pearl-jug was \u00c6gir seen;\n And now he drank, and now he blew\n For pastime in his conque marine.\n\n Cruel was Ran; frightful her frown;\n Like the fell goddess Hela, she\n Delighting to destroy, with glee\n Spreads out her nets mankind to drown:\n But, like th\u2019 unruffled sea, the smile\n Of \u00c6gir all creation charms;\n And oft doth he the hours beguile,\n Soft dallying in a mermaid\u2019s arms.\n\n While Ran afar is storming, he\n Basks in the sun at home; his soul\n It joys with diamond-pointed pole\n To trace runes on the placid sea.\n The surf each time reveal\u2019d his joy,\n When he behind the rushes prest\n (Far from his scolding wife\u2019s annoy)\n A billow to his ardent breast.\n\n On Frey and Gerda oft he smiled:\n Much did his heart the vision charm\n Of the fair couple arm in arm\n Indulging in love\u2019s transports wild.\n For much the Gods did \u00c6gir prize,\n And by the Gods was lov\u2019d full well.\n Heaven thus to bathe in Ocean joys,\n Who loves its genial ray to feel.\n\n And now he bade them to his feast:\n When Rana wander\u2019d far from home,\n To banquet in his friendly dome\n His friends with eagerness he prest.\n In vats of flint and ice profound\n His ale and beer the monarch stow\u2019d;\n Fish, lobsters, crabs in store were found,\n And cook\u2019d in many a diff\u2019rent mode.\n\n No help he needs to deck his board,\n For every time he guests invites,\n The active Finnafeng delights\n To serve as cook his much-lov\u2019d lord.\n But little fuel he requires;\n The rivers for their monarch toil:\n And, warm\u2019d by subterranean fires,\n Lo! of itself each spring doth boil.\n\n Where Malstrom whirls with frightful sound\n Into its gulf the eddying wave,\n That gulf, from which \u2019tis vain to save,\n Whiten\u2019d with foam for leagues around:\n There Eldir\u2019s club to atoms breaks\n Whatever falls to Ocean\u2019s share;\n There \u00c6gir\u2019s mill for ever clacks;\n He grinds his wheat and barley there.\n\n To Gerda\u2019s father Asa-Frey\n As present gave, we know full well,\n The best among the blades of steel,\n With which no other arm could vie:\n He granted, not to die forlorn\n Of love himself, the giant\u2019s prayer;\n Gave him his sword, and in return\n Receiv\u2019d a nymph of beauty rare.\n\n Much Gerda lov\u2019d her consort Frey;\n Apart they never more could dwell:\n His portrait Frey did far excel;\n He won the greatest victory:\n And Gerda then, her love to mark,\n Enraptur\u2019d with his graceful mien,\n Gave to her friend a wondrous bark,[92]\n The like of which was never seen.\n\n Well might the Scald in times of yore\n Of Hringhorn,[93] Balder\u2019s vessel, say,\n It flew unscathed o\u2019er marsh and sea,\n Nor quicksand fear\u2019d, nor rocky shore.\n There safely could the Disar fair\n Sit by the gods in pomp array\u2019d;\n But not the battle\u2019s shock to bear\n Was pious Balder\u2019s vessel made.\n\n In time of peace this bark behold\n Glide swiftly from its haven gay,\n And towards the mart pursue its way\n With a rich cargo in its hold!\n Of horn is built its lofty prow\n With sable shining crooked rings;\n And when it flies, each swelling bow\n Aside in foam the billow flings.\n\n There is another bark of fame,\n \u2019Tis by the giants own\u2019d, we know;\n \u2019Tis built of dead-men\u2019s nails, and so\n Of Naglefar it boasts the name.[94]\n In the morass this vessel lies,\n As yet a huge unfinish\u2019d hulk;\n Year after year its builder tries\n Unwearied to increase its bulk.\n\n All those who from the dead neglect\n To cut the nails off foot and hand,\n Bring ill-luck to the Asar band,\n And mischief cause to rule uncheck\u2019d.\n From this the giants an immense\n Advantage o\u2019er the gods derive:\n By idlesse and improvidence\n Thus mischief never fails to thrive.\n\n But for the bark, which Gerda kind\n As present to the Asar gave,\n It can the wildest storm enslave,\n And stiffly sail against the wind:\n In armour all the gods can stand\n Upon its deck with sword and helm,\n And sail from bright Valhalla\u2019s land\n To plough the waves in \u00c6gir\u2019s realm.\n\n And when the gods to brave the gale\n No longer chuse for pleasure\u2019s sake,\n Then Gerda can this vessel take\n And fold it up like silken veil.\n Then lies it, free from tempest\u2019s shocks,\n In Gerda\u2019s bosom (blissful coast!)\n And gently \u2019tween two surges rocks,\n Such as the Ocean cannot boast.\n\n The Asar\u2019s voyage to \u00c6gir\u2019s isle\n Think now how glorious \u2019twas to view!\n The morning sun rejoicing too\n Deign\u2019d warmly on their course to smile.\n See silent Vidar by the mast!\n And Odin by the rudder stand!\n And see, like flowers in vase incased,\n In all their charms th\u2019 Asynior bland!\n\n How gently sail\u2019d the bark along,\n As on a river; ne\u2019er it lurch\u2019d\n Nor plunged: upon the boom was perch\u2019d\n Heimdaller; Bragur tuned his song;\n Niord waves the standard high in air;\n Like subtlest dust ascends the spray:\n An awning, framed by Frigga\u2019s care\n Of oak leaves, veil\u2019d the solar ray.\n\n Their temples wreaths of flowers adorn;\n Nor did there lack amusement good,\n For by the gangway naked stood\n Young Tyr, as when he first was born:\n In his left hand he grasp\u2019d his sword;\n A shark enormous hove in sight!\n The hero brave jump\u2019d overboard,\n With the fell shark to prove his might.\n\n Now must each Disa shake with fear;\n The monster bravely fought, in truth;\n It open\u2019d wide its frightful mouth,\n And snapp\u2019d with fury after Tyr.\n But soon doth cease the Disar\u2019s pain,\n And gaily now they laugh aloud;\n The hero sprung on board again;\n Down sank the dying shark in blood.\n\n Ye all do know, the spiteful Ran\n Delights with monsters fierce to live:\n She to that shark did mandate give\n To execute her envious plan:\n By her \u2019twas sent to plague with fear\n The guests who sped to \u00c6gir\u2019s hall;\n But when the shark was slain by Tyr,\n She then dispatch\u2019d a monstrous whale.\n\n Foaming it roll\u2019d impetuous by,\n So vast, it seem\u2019d an isle broke loose!\n It snorted loud, while from its nose\n A wat\u2019ry column spouted high.\n But Heimdal lo! for sport in haste\n Athwart the wat\u2019ry column flew;\n Then brilliant shone, as through he past,\n A band of seven-colour\u2019d hue!\n\n Now Vidar standing at the poop\n Fix\u2019d with his fearful eye the whale:\n At once its powers of mischief fail;\n To Vidar\u2019s eye all creatures stoop.\n Aloud read Odin many a rune;\n The whale must to the bottom go;\n For Vidar\u2019s look, like a harpoon,\n Had pierced the monster through and through.\n\n \u2019Twas eve: the land begins to loom;\n Now Hlesey full in sight appears:\n And much it joys Valhalla\u2019s peers\n To greet Hler \u00c6gir\u2019s friendly dome.\n Like clouds which shooting through the sky\n Rush eager towards the wave\u2019s embrace,\n Thus lightly did Skidbladner fly,\n Its name well suits its worth to trace.\n\n The anchor\u2019s tooth now bit the ground:\n The sun its parting radiance shed.\n A troop of Mermaids towards them sped,\n And sportive swam the bark around:\n There three by three those nymphs were seen,\n Their arms around each other\u2019s neck,\n With flowing hair as rushes green,\n And limbs like snow without a speck.\n\n Each with a silver-tissued veil,\n And brows with garlands white attired,\n Sporting and dancing, never tired,\n With songs of joy their guests they hail.\n And now the Alfer they invite\n To join their train with accents bland:\n The bark the thoughtless Alfer quit,\n And with their partners haste to land.[95]\n\n They sat by pairs upon the rock:\n Each Alf a gallant warrior proved;\n The Mermaids like true females loved,\n Unshrinking from the amorous shock:\n There was no lack of pinching, flouncing,\n Of kisses, and embraces warm:\n The sound was that of sea-birds pouncing\n Amidst a silv\u2019ry herring-swarm.\n\n Hler \u00c6gir sits upon his throne,\n With sceptre emblem of his might:\n His silver helmet, gleaming bright\n With crest in form of Dragon shone.\n Yet from this helm so fair to view\n Oft came a soul-appalling sound;\n \u2019Twas like the tempest howling through\n The hollow of a rock profound.\n\n I\u2019 th\u2019 middle of the festive hall,\n For night had now obscured the earth,\n A lump of gold placed on the hearth\n Gave ample light and warmth to all.\n The monarch here his friends regales\n With what his realm produces best;\n And every guest exulting hails\n The generous founder of the feast.\n\n But while the gods enjoy\u2019d their feast,\n As far as Finnmark\u2019s farthest dale,\n Midst fogs, and snow, and sleet, and hail\n Flew Asa-Lok like one possest.\n Wildly his cheek of corpse-like hue\n Contrasted with each ebon lock\n Wide streaming through the ether blue,\n Like vapours dark at Ragnarok.\n\n Vexation great the caitiff feels,\n That Fenris wolf in chains should pine:\n But forming quick a bold design,\n Bats\u2019 wings he fastened to his heels:\n Then to his shoulders wings of owl\n With art ingenious making fast,\n He seem\u2019d a huge ill-omen\u2019d fowl,\n As o\u2019er the rocks and plains he past.\n\n \u201cSo! I have not invited been,\n Among the rest, to \u00c6gir\u2019s isle:\n And, though a god, am held too vile\n To figure in that brilliant scene;\n But Thor is absent, so \u2019tis said;\n He wanders warring in the east:\n Now I\u2019ll mix gravel in their bread,\n And spoil the glories of their feast.\n\n \u201cSince I cannot their pleasures share,\n Others\u2019 enjoyment I\u2019ll prevent:\n While Lok \u2019s a prey to discontent,\n No guest the smiles of joy shall wear.\n Ha! they shall soon be made to feel,\n No rose is pluck\u2019d without a thorn;\n And drops of wormwood I\u2019ll distil\n Into each Asa\u2019s drinking-horn.\n\n \u201cGreat powers I have not; yet in need\n The weakest worm hath force to wound:\n My tongue the Disar shall confound,\n And floods of tears I\u2019ll make them shed.\n Since they\u2019re averse to Asa-Lok,\n To make them fear him be my aim:\n My gibes obscene their ears shall shock;\n My calumnies destroy their fame.\n\n \u201cWho on the power of truth relies\n \u2019Gainst slander, will repent full soon;\n Since there is but one truth alone\n Against a hundred thousand lies.\n How easy is it to deceive\n Mankind, if we but have the will!\n The mass all, that they hear, believe,\n And Lok in fraud is master still.\u201d\n\n Such was the restless caitiff\u2019s song,\n As sharp he grazed the mountain\u2019s side:\n On his best weapon he relied,\n His merciless, unwearied tongue.\n But, passing by some dwarfs, he paused,\n And in his service press\u2019d them all;\n Chusing sharp adder\u2019s stings, he caused\n His tongue to be belay\u2019d withal.\n\n With garland strange he deck\u2019d his head,\n His hair he twisted into horns;\n Thereto he added sharpest thorns,\n With dark-blue hemlock flowers bespread.\n To Hlesey now his course he bent,\n And there bold Finnafeng he slew,\n Who strove his entrance to prevent\n Among the jovial \u00c6gir\u2019s crew.\n\n Sprinkled with Finnafenger\u2019s blood,\n He sat him down by \u00c6gir\u2019s gate,\n Preparing for the stern debate\n With shameless front and accent rude.\n Spite of his visage blood-besmear\u2019d,\n He rose and enter\u2019d the saloon;\n Around him insolent he stared,\n And thus he spoke in jeering tone.\n\n \u201cNow hail to ye, ye Disar all!\n Hail to ye, gods! Valhalla\u2019s powers!\n Without the blast inclement roars,\n But here \u2019tis snug in \u00c6gir\u2019s hall.\n Indulging in your evening feast\n Fill\u2019d with bright ale each drains his horn:\n Despised is the unbidden guest,\n But your contempt he laughs to scorn.\n\n \u201cWith haughty glances towards the ground,\n To answer Lok ye all disdain.\n The slave of \u00c6gir I have slain,\n His cook for science so renown\u2019d:\n To \u00c6gir\u2019s hall he barr\u2019d my way,\n But I chastised his insolence:\n The slave must, true, his lord obey,\n But expiate oft his lord\u2019s offence.\n\n ODIN.\n\n How darest thou, wretch! without a blush\n Invade the Asar\u2019s brilliant sphere?\n Thou ne\u2019er shalt be invited here!\n Thou screeching owl behind the bush!\n Avaunt! thou kill-joy! quick retreat,\n Nor here thy odious form intrude!\n My lance, I swear, when next we meet,\n Shall pierce thy heart, and drink thy blood.\n\n LOK.\n\n More kind and decent was thy tone,\n When, dress\u2019d as lowly waiting-maid,\n Thou turn\u2019dst the silly Rinda\u2019s head,\n Heiress of Garderike\u2019s throne:\n Clothed in the garment of a slave,\n Was conduct that for Odin fit?\n Ha! though thou art more wise than brave,\n Thy prudence far exceeds thy wit.\n\n BRAGUR.\n\n How darest thou thus presume to vent\n On Valhall\u2019s king thy envious spite,\n With hair like hedgehog\u2019s quills upright,\n And sland\u2019rous tongue on mischief bent?\n Valhalla\u2019s rays thy eye-balls sear;\n Down then! to realms of darkness hie!\n And since the sun thou canst not bear,\n For ever from its splendour fly!\n\n LOK.\n\n \u2019Tis not thy menace makes me shrink;\n Thy sword rests ever in the sheath;\n Useless! except to waste thy breath\n In empty boasts, to doze and drink!\n Cautious of shedding blood art thou,\n To bite less proper than to bay:\n When call\u2019d upon to wield the bow,\n The valiant Bragur slinks away.\n\n IDUNA.\n\n How dares thy spiteful tongue assail\n The god, whose lyre enchants the earth,\n Whose lofty song throughout the north\n Cheers, like the moon, life\u2019s gloomy vale?\n Who raises merit to the skies,\n Who points the genuine road to fame;\n From evil causes good to rise,\n And stamps the Nidding\u2019s act with shame.\n\n LOK.\n\n Why prudish now \u2019gainst vice protest?\n Slow wert thou \u2019gainst the mountain fiend\n Thy precious virtue to defend,\n When he thy juicy apples prest:\n Fear taught thee to be soft and tame,\n Thiasse could tell us _how_ and _when_;[96]\n Of Bragur\u2019s honour, dainty dame!\n Thou wert not quite so mindful then.\n\n GEFION.\n\n A dame, more pure and innocent\n Than Ydun, nowhere can be found:\n \u2019Tis time thy sland\u2019rous tongue were bound,\n Yet \u2019tis to me indifferent.\n Foul sower of all calumny!\n What wretched harvests must thou reap!\n Pursue thy trade! add lie to lie!\n I hold thy utmost malice cheap.\n\n LOK.\n\n To men thou\u2019rt scornful, cold, and glum,\n But that is while the day shines bright:\n \u2019Tis well no power of speech hath night,\n And that each forest tree is dumb.\n Whene\u2019er behind the bush, proud maid!\n Thy limbs thou bathest in the flood;\n Thou dost not then disdain, \u2019tis said,\n To cool the water-demon\u2019s blood.\n\n ODIN.\n\n This is too much. I\u2019d have thee know,\n The moon\u2019s bright disk thou canst not stain;\n That lily fair \u2019tis labour vain\n To soil; \u2019tis casting coals on snow.\n Fly, caitiff, to thy rocks remote!\n Cease to disturb the social hour!\n Bark, an it give thee joy, without,\n Like mastiff chain\u2019d at \u00c6gir\u2019s door!\n\n LOK.\n\n Hold thy tongue, Odin! blind, in troth,\n Are thy awards i\u2019 th\u2019 tented field.\n The bold must oft to witchcraft yield,\n When Odin boils the magic broth.\n \u2019Tis thy delight the brave to lower,\n And crown with palms the base and mean;\n Oft dost thou borrow Mimer\u2019s power,\n But seldom his discernment keen.\n\n FRIGGA.\n\n Ha, Lok! dost thou presume to call\n The chief, whom all the gods revere,\n Alfader\u2019s self, unjust, severe,\n And partial, in this sacred hall?\n He will not now disturb the peace\n Of \u00c6gir\u2019s hospitable board,\n But grief he\u2019ll force thee to express\n To-morrow for each sland\u2019rous word.\n\n LOK.\n\n Hold thy tongue, Frigga! Asgard\u2019s queen!\n From scratching, pain oft follows strait;\n Like the queen bee, with many a mate,\n But with no king is Frigga seen.\n Not sparing of thy charms art thou,\n By zephyrs pleas\u2019d to be carest;\n In Spring thy looks too plainly show\n The longing that pervades thy breast.\n\n FREYA.\n\n O Lok! since wrath hath no effect\n The venom of thy tongue to tame,\n Let females some exception claim:\n Treat them at least with some respect.\n Behold, the tears of Freya flow!\n Would they could melt thy stubborn hate!\n Ah me! what pleasure feelest thou\n The gods\u2019 fair fame to lacerate?\n\n LOK.\n\n What causes Freya\u2019s grief? I pray:\n Is it from longing I behold\n Her cheek bedew\u2019d with tears of gold?\n What dost thou long for? Freya, say!\n Thy husband fair has fled, \u2019tis true,\n But \u2019tis not, sure, a hopeless case;\n Thou canst find lovers not a few,\n Eager and fit to take his place.\n\n But why did Odur break his chain?\n Ha, Freya! did he find thy kiss\n Too warm, too prodigal of bliss?\n Or was it that he felt disdain\n For charms which had so oft been bared\n And closely scann\u2019d in Valaskialf,\n And felt no zest in favours shared\n With every Ase and every Alf?\n\n FREY.\n\n Be silent with thy hissing, snake!\n With fire-red eye, where malice glows,\n Why thus delight to prick the rose,\n When thistles grow on every brake?\n Why thus calumniate the good?\n Why cause a gracious female pain?\n Go! hie thee hence to Angurbod,\n With locks as coarse as horse\u2019s mane!\n\n LOK.\n\n With cynic lust thine eye still shines;\n Tis thou hast Valaskialf betray\u2019d,\n O Frey! since with thy sword hath fled\n All vigour from thy jaded loins.\n Fair Gerda with her luscious kiss\n Sucks out, like leech, thy warmest blood;\n Each time thou tastest Freya\u2019s bliss,\n Much joy it gives to Angurbod.\n\n HEIMDAL.\n\n With the dark wizard \u2019neath yon rock,\n Upon my life, thou must have drank,\n And here thou com\u2019st, with liquor rank,\n Our ears with ribald taunts to shock.\n Thy sparks of wit proceed, I trow,\n But from the fumes of mead and ale;\n Its emptiness we all do know:\n Thy sarcasms here must ever fail.\n\n LOK.\n\n Ha! Lok must now succumb, \u2019tis plain,\n Since pompous Heimdal threatens too;\n Think\u2019st thou I fear thy famous bow,\n Made of mere vapour, sleet, and rain?\n And what is Heimdal\u2019s self, I ask,\n When of his gaudy colours shorn?\n What is he then behind his mask?\n A simple watchman with his horn!\n\n BALDER.\n\n Behind thy ribaldry so coarse,\n I can discern a vein of wit,\n And genius too for all things fit,\n Did virtue lend her sterling force.\n Like _Will o\u2019 Wisp_ with spurious light,\n Thou friskest the deep marsh about;\n While others thou wouldst fain benight,\n Thy own fantastic flame goes out.\n\n LOK.\n\n The lamb doth scarce compassion meet;\n Coward, he lets himself be slain:\n Lok ne\u2019er before his foes will deign,\n Lamb-like, in piteous strains to bleat.\n Vain, Balder, is that rule of thine,\n Patience and piety to use;\n He only bows at virtue\u2019s shrine,\n Whose arm is weak and wit obtuse.\n\n Vidar spoke not, but earnest stared\n Full in the face of Asa-Lok;\n The caitiff instant felt the shock,\n With quiv\u2019ring lip and visage scared.\n The water-spout with gloomy frown,\n Thus column-like from heaven doth come,\n With thick shoes stamps old Ocean down,\n And scatters far the billow\u2019s scum.\n\n Now black the vault of heaven became;\n Athwart the vapours thick and close,\n While Loptur\u2019s blood with terror froze,\n Glitter\u2019d afar a lurid flame!\n Of thunder now tremendous peals\n Shake earth and make the billows roar,\n And every one instinctive feels\n With awe th\u2019 approach of Asa-Thor!\n\n Lok sigh\u2019d and sweated now with fear,\n Yet still his terror he conceal\u2019d;\n At length the lightning\u2019s glare reveal\u2019d\n The white-hair\u2019d goats and golden car.\n But when Thor full in view appear\u2019d,\n Lok\u2019s colour fled, his spirits fail\u2019d;\n At sight of the majestic beard\n Of ebon hue, the traitor quail\u2019d.\n\n THOR.\n\n Be silent, thou of sland\u2019rers worst,\n Who striv\u2019st the Asar\u2019s fame to soil!\n Ne\u2019er doth thy Nidding\u2019s brain recoil\n From hatching some vile scheme accurst.\n But come, I\u2019ll put an end full soon\n To all thy schemes of treach\u2019ry fell;\n To Utgard\u2019s shades I\u2019ll cast thee down,\n And bind thee fast with chains of Hel.\n\n LOK.\n\n I tremble not; I turn not pale;\n Thou hast not got thy Mi\u00f6lner now;\n Thy genuine hammer lies, we know,\n Buried beneath the serpent\u2019s scale.\n Aye! spite of all thy godlike vigour,\n Oft didst thou, Thor, my pity move;\n I laugh\u2019d to see the silly figure\n Thou mad\u2019st in Skrymur\u2019s sweaty glove.[97]\n\n THOR.\n\n Be silent, thou pestiferous cloud,\n That striv\u2019st to damp celestial fire!\n Thou\u2019lt find, no hammer I require\n To punish thee and all thy brood.\n Behold that pine on yon high rock!\n Thereon I\u2019ll hang thy odious form;\n All creatures shall thy suff\u2019rings mock,\n Traitor! when dangling in the storm.\n\n LOK.\n\n Methinks it is no longer fit\n That Lok should throw away his jests;\n My songs were meant for jovial guests,\n For those who value mirth and wit.\n The other gods with temper hear\n My gibes, and like my humour well;\n But Thor a joke could never bear:\n \u2019Tis time I bid ye all farewell.\n\n Thus said, he plunges in the sea;\n Swift as an eel he scuds along:\n But after him, by anger stung,\n Thor hurl\u2019d a lightning\u2019s forked ray.\n But Lok intent his limbs to save,\n Deep under water bow\u2019d his head;\n Innocuous \u2019midst the boiling wave\n The thund\u2019rer\u2019s flaming arrow sped.\n\n Thus as, when vanish clouds and rain,\n The air breathes more serene and mild,\n Each lovely Disa gracious smil\u2019d;\n Joy colour\u2019d high their cheeks again.\n Freed from the wretch, their torment dire,\n They pass the night in dance and song;\n And strains from \u00c6gir\u2019s golden lyre\n Re-echo loud the rocks among.\n\n\n\n\nCANTO XXVIII.\n\nLOK\u2019S TREACHERY.\n\nThe reader is requested, before he begins this Canto, to read the note.\n\n\n In serpent\u2019s form Lok fled away into the ocean blue;\n All the fell monsters of the deep now met him full in view.\n In order to avoid them, how dexterously he toils!\n Now in a line deploys him, now rolls himself in coils!\n The peasant standing on a cliff followed with curious eye\n The course of Lok, as like the wind he swiftly glided by:\n Fearing pursuers, up he swam as far as Lindern\u00e6s,\n On Norway\u2019s coast; and hid him there \u2019midst sea-weed, sand, and grass.\n At length his shape resuming, upon a reef of rock\n He seats himself, like goatherd who watches o\u2019er his flock.\n \u201cWhat have I done? Ah! woe is me! from Valaskialf\u2019s abode\n Thus exiled, what is Loptur now? a giant, or a god?\n Am I thus amongst monsters condemn\u2019d my time to pass?\u201d\n Where\u2019s now my fav\u2019rite pastime, the zest of life? alas!\n Must I \u2019midst stupid giants dwell in the realms of night,\n Who dose like sleepy dragons o\u2019er gold and silver bright?\n For them no sunshine blazes, no spring brings with it joy,\n The art the blockheads know not existence to enjoy:\n They know not love\u2019s soft blandishment, they prize not music\u2019s tone,\n Their only pastime is to hear the cascade rushing down.\n Heavily slumbering like bears in gelid caverns drear,\n What doth avail heroic strength, if th\u2019 hero be a bear?\n Shall I ne\u2019er listen to again the sound of Bragur\u2019s harp?\n At times on the good bard, I own, I used my wit too sharp.\n In Fensal shall my eyes no more the fair Asynior woo?\n My impudence no longer tinge with red their skin of snow?\n No longer now shall Odin sage be overreach\u2019d by me?\n \u2019Twas my chief sport to disconcert his stiff formality.\n Shall my sarcasms no longer put to blush Asa-Thor?\n Thor is indeed a hero, and had he half the store\n Of wit, that falls to Loptur\u2019s share, to all Valhalla\u2019s power\n He could defiance bid, and force each god his crest to lower.\n He suits me well; with patience my raillery he bears;\n With him I love to travel; and when his car he steers\n Athwart the spacious regions of heav\u2019n with pond\u2019rous wheels,\n And thunders shake Heimkringlas with soul-appalling peals,\n I share Hlorrida\u2019s glory: each time earth trembling shook,\n I thought myself his equal, and frown\u2019d with swagg\u2019ring look.\n Each Disa smiled enchanting, when courteous I address\u2019d her;\n With blushes Fulla trembled, when in my arms I press\u2019d her.\n She is in love with Lok, I know, poor little innocent thing!\n And many other Disar in my net I hoped to bring.\n My impudence doth in their cheek the blush of shame recall,\n But soon, becoming used to it, they\u2019ll cease to blush at all.\n Sweet to my taste S\u00e2hrimner was, and sweeter still the mead;\n And when the proud Einherier pranced about the flow\u2019ry mead\n With shield and lance, I was content: all things to hear and see,\n And mock at all the gods by turns, was charming sport to me.\n I was the clev\u2019rest of them all, and with the gods I play\u2019d,\n Just as a cat does with a mouse, which he has just waylaid.\n First doth he his poor captive with feign\u2019d caresses quail;\n His eyes with malice sparkle; he frisks about his tail:\n At length when weary of the sport his food Grimalkin needs,\n His teeth inflict the mortal crunch, and then poor mousie bleeds!\n But now Puss on the house-roof sits, nor deems himself secure\n E\u2019en there; he licks his beard and paws; his master from the door\n Hath chased him in his anger, because i\u2019 th\u2019 cupboard he\n With his dame\u2019s hams and bacon had chosen to make free.\n\n But if their loss I feel, will not they feel my loss much more?\n Odin, I\u2019m sure, when no one laughs, will feel vexation sore.\n Long days of constant seriousness the Asar soon will rue;\n They\u2019ll find that to the zest of life mirth must contribute too.\n Heavy and dull are they become already; there they sit,\n And yawn, and in their mead-horn gaze, when they have emptied it.\n Let but the Disar once the bread without the leaven taste,\n Insipid will it prove, I trow, without friend Loptur\u2019s yeast:\n Without the poignancy of change pleasure itself must pall,\n And light, unchequer\u2019d e\u2019er by shade, be insupportable.\n No diff\u2019rence of opinion now excites ye; true, ye breathe,\n But spiritless and dull your life; \u2019tis the repose of death.\u201d\n\n In such reflections Loptur from sorrow sought relief,\n And often gazed he wistful upon Yggdrassil\u2019s leaf.\n \u201cCould I,\u201d thought he, \u201cof Asa-Thor the pardon once obtain,\n The favour of the other gods \u2019twere easy to regain.\u201d\n Thus Lok amidst the grove of pines pensive and restless stray\u2019d;\n His silence deep at length he broke: \u201cI have it now,\u201d he said;\n For Thor his hammer I\u2019ll procure; I think, upon my life,\n To get his hammer back again he\u2019d give away his wife.\u201d\n\n Now over hill and dale he flew, quite joyous at the thought,\n And passing through the hard-wood grove, soon reach\u2019d the mountain grot:\n There at the entrance of a cave sat Thrymur, giant-king,\n Around a bunch of arrows sharp twining a golden string:\n Red ribbands in his courser\u2019s mane then did he interlace,\n While the full moon pour\u2019d streams of light adown his dusky face.\n Into the field the giant look\u2019d, and seeing Lok, cried out:\n \u201cHa! welcome here! thou smallest toe in mighty Odin\u2019s foot!\n To visit us poor folks below doth Loptur condescend?\n What pleasure can an Asa find in our dark goblin-land?\n Have the gods turn\u2019d thee out of doors? hast thou been indiscreet?\n Shame were it such a chief of worth so scornfully to treat;\n To start them game the gods, perhaps, thee falcon-like have sent:\n Speak out then, thou accomplish\u2019d rogue! say! what is thy intent?\u201d\n\n Now sitting down by Thrymur\u2019s side with mien composed he said:\n \u201cWith insults deep and injury the gods have Lok repaid;\n Did I not hope one day your cause to aid, ye giants good!\n I ne\u2019er would set my foot again in Valhall\u2019s curst abode.\n You do require a spy, methinks, to find out and detect\n All that the fraudful Asar brood against your realm project:\n Some clever and ingenious wight; and where on earth\u2019s vast round\n More proper for this task than Lok can any one be found?\n Besides, unknown to ye no doubt, I\u2019ve often proved your friend,\n And to some gratitude from ye I may with right pretend:\n But howsoe\u2019er with pitying eye my sufferings ye regard,\n In my own conscience, in my heart I find my best reward.\u201d\n\n Then Thrymur answer\u2019d, laughing loud: \u201cWhat means this canting speech?\u201d\n With pious look and honied words thinkst thou to overreach\n Us giant champions, as ye catch the larks with berries red\n Behind a net of horse-hair fix\u2019d, and \u2019bout the meadow spread?\n Tears canst thou shed, like Dragon foul, when, eager for his food,\n He seeketh travelers to entrap within the marshy flood;\n But out with it! thy errand quick, O turncoat vile, relate!\n Be frank for once, or in thy face, by Hel, I\u2019ll shut my gate.\u201d\n\n \u201cAh! thou hast reason to be proud and haughty,\u201d answer\u2019d Lok:\n \u201cNow may\u2019st thou with contempt on Thor, and all Valhalla look:\n Hast thou not found his hammer \u2019twixt the scales of Jormundgard?\n A glorious booty \u2019tis, forsooth: \u2019twill all your pains reward:\n For though that hammer\u2019s use thyself thou dost not understand,\n Immense advantage \u2019twill afford; thou may\u2019st with right demand,\n In ransom for that weapon, all the wealth thou canst conceive;\n Whate\u2019er thou chusest to exact, the god will freely give.\u201d\n\n \u201cWhat ransom?\u201d cried the giant harsh and rough: \u201cdoth Thor possess\n Gold, silver, copper, as I do within my deep recess?\n Such gifts small value have for me; for riches naught I care;\n But much of Freya have I heard, and of her beauty rare:\n They say, she doth in form and grace all other dames eclipse;\n Ivory her limbs, of gold her hair, of coral are her lips:\n Her voice sweet music; plump well-rounded arms; a laughing mien;\n A mouth that is for kissing made, and loves it too, I ween.\n I burn with ardour to embrace a nymph of colour white;\n No more the dames of swarthy hue my passion can excite.\n If therefore Freya fair, as bride, Odin to me will give,\n Thor in exchange his hammer bright that instant shall receive.\n Did not Frey wed a Jotun nymph? If so, with equal right\n May Jotun Thrymur claim as spouse his sister Freya bright.\n Such my proposal is, which thou to Asagard mayst bear;\n Why should we plague each other\u2019s lives with endless hale and war,\n Let friendship durable ensue upon this marriage tie!\n But mark me! Mi\u00f6lner eight miles deep doth in the ocean lie:\n Never again shall Thor, I swear, his much-prized arm behold,\n Unless I clasp in my embrace Freya with hair of gold.\u201d\n\n Thus spake the giant-king: a dwarf, as page, came to the gate,\n And oped it; in his master went; the dwarf then closed it strait.\n Lok stood without at th\u2019 midnight hour abandon\u2019d and forlorn,\n To Asar and to giants both the object of their scorn.\n\n He laugh\u2019d out loudly in the dark: so fearful was the sound,\n The owls perch\u2019d on the forest trees fell down upon the ground.\n To learn the cause, the scolding Ran rose from the depths of ocean,\n And scars on warriors\u2019 limbs now bled afresh at th\u2019 wild commotion:\n Fell Jormundgardur shook himself; for miles and miles around\n Men, fields,and dwellings were submerged in ocean\u2019s waves profound.\n Each Nidding starting from his couch by stings of conscience vex\u2019d\n Arose; a cold sweat on his brow announced a soul perplex\u2019d:\n Fenris loud howling through the sky the vast creation scared;\n Lok\u2019s laughter and the wolfish howl the long long night were heard.\n\n \u201cGiants and gods alike I hate,\u201d said Lok: \u201csoon shall they prove,\n How terrible that power can be, which but itself doth love.\n Would I could make them perish all together! ha! what bliss,\n Could I the vast Heimkringlas sink i\u2019 th\u2019 bottomless abyss!\n Ye\u2019ve exiled me from Valaskialf; asylum ye refuse;\n But means of vengeance still I hold, and such I mean to use.\n Like tree rubbing \u2019gainst tree in fell collision shall ye come,\n Until a flame arise, and all your hated brood consume:\n Then shall ye when too late, I trow, do honour to my skill:\u201d\n Thus did the traitor Lok the air with groans and curses fill.\n\n \u201cWith force unmanageable works the purblind mountain race;\n The Asar boast their virtue pure, combined with strength and grace:\n If to an act of treachery I once could Thor incline,\n Then cunning overreaches strength; the triumph then were mine;\n Thor a mere giant then becomes: when at the midnight hour\n Odin of witches dire invokes the soul-appalling power,\n Yggdrassil trembles; then grows dry the fount in Urda\u2019s vale:\n Then shines the frightful Jormungard with doubly brilliant scale:\n Hel\u2019s colour from a livid blue changes from joy to white,\n And Heimdal\u2019s horn excites the world to sempiternal fight.\u201d\n\n But since his last expulsion Lok to mount to Valhall\u2019s dome\n Without safe conduct ventured not, and houseless still must roam:\n Towards evening he reach\u2019d the grove of beech on Sealand\u2019s isle,\n As homeward with his plough return\u2019d the peasant from his toil.\n There is a spot within that grove, whence fountains with delight\n Spring from benignant Hertha\u2019s breast, and through the sand stream bright:\n \u2019Twas on the spot where Leire stood, and afterwards king Hro[98]\n With many a stone and plank and joist constructed Kongebo.[99]\n At morning and at evening\u2019s blush there loved the Alfs to rove,\n And scatter Freya\u2019s tears like dew throughout the beechen grove:\n And when she prick\u2019d her finger with her needle, up they took\n The drops of blood, and pour\u2019d them on the green plants by the brook:\n Lo! by the next revolving sun those plants with flowers were crown\u2019d,\n Which spread delightful odours through the grove for miles around.\n They took the yellow sparrows grey, who o\u2019er earth\u2019s surface rove,\n And kiss\u2019d their beaks and taught them how to pour forth notes of love.\n Nightingales they became at once, whose tones so sweetly sound,\n And fill each youthful heart with dreams of tenderness profound.\n Now ev\u2019ry morning they anoint the locks of Freya fair\n With precious unguent, which embalms with fragrancy the air.\n Once from the Disa in a shell they stole some drops of oil,\n And pour\u2019d them on a weed; a Julian flower repaid their toil:\n But far too strong that odour proved; its strength prevails e\u2019en now.\n Some drops were left; with water mix\u2019d upon the turf they throw\n Those drops, and lo! upon green stems blue violets fragrant grow!\n\n Thus in that grove the little Alfs amuse themselves secure;\n They teach the peasant\u2019s cock to crow loud at his master\u2019s door,\n To rouse him from his slumber, and make him hie with speed\n To earn with plough and harrow for wife and children bread.\n At night they show the lover, who through the forest roves,\n The way that he should wander, to find the maid he loves:\n And when he meets her, when her hand he presses tenderly,\n The Alfs their hands together bind with links of flowers, which she,\n Now kind become, ne\u2019er seeks to loose.\n\n But while the blithesome crew\n Of Alfs were dancing on the grass yet glitt\u2019ring bright with dew,\n Lo! from an ash-tree\u2019s hollow trunk Lok started forth to view!\n The Erl-king in the full-moon\u2019s glare he much resembled now,\n With crown of blackberry, thick beard, and tail like that of cow.\n At first the Alfs were terrified; away they fain would fly;\n They fear\u2019d it was their enemies the black Alfs hov\u2019ring nigh:\n But when they Loptur recognized, they hail\u2019d him with a shout\n Of laughter, and delighted frisk\u2019d their new-come guest about:\n He pleased them; in their frolics oft he took an active part;\n He was an Asa, well they knew, but knew not his bad heart.\n\n \u201cHow now? friend Lok! what dost thou here i th\u2019 forest? art thou sprung\n From th\u2019 branches of the tree, to dance our mirthful choir among?\u201d\n \u201cYes! my dear little creatures! Lok, ye know, doth love ye all;\n Eager to teach ye novel sports, he comes to join your ball.\u201d\n He join\u2019d the dance; a circle now the Alfs around him trace,\n But Lok\u2019s tail made a rustling noise, like serpent in the grass:\n Sudden the fountain ceased to flow; the once transparent brook\n Troubled and dark became, while toads in stagnant marshes croak;\n A swarm of crickets hover round a corpse with deaf\u2019ning cry:\n But how could innocent white Alfs suspect Lok\u2019s treachery?\n\n Thus on the grass in Autumn late two lovers often sit;\n They gaze upon each other\u2019s face with rapture and delight;\n They feel not that the fev\u2019rish air announces: \u201cOne shall die!\u201d\n Grasping their flow\u2019ry garland in their hands, their ecstacy\n Makes them incautious; they inhale the pestilential breath\n Of the foul Lok, who lurks behind the bushes on the heath.\n The placid moon, which cheer\u2019d so oft their love with radiance meek,\n But which had not the power to cool the deep blush on their cheek,\n A few weeks later on the bier a lifeless corpse doth view\n Crown\u2019d with white flowers: from Lok\u2019s black art such bitter fruits ensue!\n\n \u201cYe friendly little Alfs!\u201d said Lok in soft cajoling strain,\n \u201cD\u2019ye wish to know the reason why I join your sportive train?\n Ye\u2019re call\u2019d Valhalla\u2019s children; the Asar hold ye dear;\n Poor Lok needs your assistance, and therefore comes he here.\n I have been sadly indiscreet; too free hath been my tongue;\n But \u00c6gir\u2019s banquet is to blame; his liquor was too strong,\n My head too weak: I\u2019ve mock\u2019d the gods; my crime I frankly own:\n But if great Odin will once more admit me near his throne,\n If Thor for what I\u2019ve said or sung will grant his pardon too,\n I promise in return (my word is truth itself, ye know)\n To fetch him Mi\u00f6lner back again, which deep in earth now lies;\n So that again he may strike home, and win each glorious prize,\n Nor fear that a short hammer-shaft his strength might neutralize.\u201d\n\n The friendly Alfer promised all for Lok to intercede:\n Like doves so white to Valhall\u2019s dome they flew his cause to plead:\n With folded hands in lengthen\u2019d file entering, they knelt before\n The Asar, for the culprit Lok forgiveness to implore.\n All hearts were moved; first Freya smiled; then Frey: ah! who can say\n \u201cNo,\u201d to a prayer for mercy, when such lovely children pray?\n Now they led forth the criminal, who soft behind them crept,\n He flatter\u2019d, play\u2019d the hypocrite, fell on his knees, and wept;\n He tried to kiss Thor\u2019s garment: at this demeanour base\n The hero blush\u2019d with anger, and struck him on the face.\n \u201cAvaunt! thou miserable wretch!\u201d said Thor, with fearful cry;\n \u201cThy abjectness more wrath excites, than did thy treachery.\u201d\n\n \u201cDear shalt thou pay for this,\u201d thought Lok, \u201cthy pride one day be cool\u2019d;\n The bowstring\u2019s pulled so frequently, it snaps at length: but hold.\n I must refrain from menace, be meek and humble here,\n And all my schemes of vengeance till fitter time defer.\u201d\n So now in haste up springing, he loudly shouted! \u201cPeace;\n Good tidings now I bring ye: all strife and hate shall cease:\n Giants and gods no longer eternal war shall wage;\n The bosom melts with kindness, that once throbb\u2019d high with rage.\n The heart of Thrymur beats with love; the object of his flame\n Is Freya; to the rocks and woods he sighs out Freya\u2019s name.\n And when athwart the birch-trees he views her glorious fane,\n And marks her spindle sparkling with many a yellow skein,\n The female, thinks the giant, who such a quantity\n Of flax can spin, must truly a clever housewife be.\n She\u2019s just the dame for Thrymur\u2019s taste; soft, delicate, and thin\n Must be the fingers, that can draw the silken thread so fine.\n Her skin the lily\u2019s hue presents, her cheek the peach\u2019s bloom,\n Her lips are red as blood, I\u2019m told; the rest all white as foam:\n With brightest gold in colour her silken tresses vie,\n And three times can she wind them around her forehead high.\n They say she\u2019s in affliction, her husband she has lost;\n Good sense this doth not argue to be so deeply crost:\n But it denotes fidelity; and that, one may surmise,\n Supposes that she too upon fidelity relies:\n For ah! where would the guerdon be of virtue, if one doubted\n Incessantly? for Freya too, whose beauty is undoubted.\n The thistle no attention meets, e\u2019en from the butterfly;\n But the rose ne\u2019er can rest in peace for th\u2019 homage of the bee.\u201d\n\n \u201cThy sermon on fidelity, I pray thee, spare us now!\u201d\n Said Freya, laughing: \u201cemblem of fidelity, we know,\n Is Loptur\u2019s heart: but quickly Thrymur\u2019s demand prefer,\n And thy remarks on virtue another time we\u2019ll hear.\u201d\n\n \u201cThey are not mine, fair lady!\u201d quoth Lok: \u201cI only come,\n As messenger from Thrymur, to Valhall\u2019s azure dome.\n Freya the Disa fair he loves with manhood\u2019s fervent fire;\n His love for her all Jotunheim with softness doth inspire.\n His father, Lok of Utgard stern, so wrapp\u2019d up in his son,\n Hath for the ardent lover\u2019s vows a tender pity shown.\n Brother-in-law of Odin thus should Utgard-Lok become,\n A mighty change will then forthwith o\u2019er all Heimkringlas come:\n Henceforth twixt good and evil no diff\u2019rence will appear;\n All contrasts blend harmonious, when the dark owl shall pair\n With the white dove: sunshine shall mix with the volcano\u2019s gleam\n And in Valhalla\u2019s fragrant grove unsavoury vapours steam:\n Smooth-skinn\u2019d and beardless man become; woman a beard shall wear;\n Twilight will all the fashion be; day and night disappear:\n Sweet violets on carrion bloom; a blade of straw a knife,\n A spit a lily straight become: the warrior and his wife\n Will change professions; she the javelin, he the distaff hold:\n Such transformations wonderful our eyes will then behold.\n But Thrymur is a serious wight, this must not be forgot,\n He\u2019s somewhat jealous too, and jokes he understandeth not:\n And Freya must, if she consent to share the giant\u2019s reign,\n As Thrymur\u2019s spouse, in subterranean gloom for aye remain.\n True, love will vanish from the earth; but where, I pray, the loss,\n Since hate no longer will exist our hearts to plague and cross?\n Heimdaller\u2019s Bifrost then will lose its variegated hue,\n No more display its gorgeous rays, red, yellow, green, and blue:\n Those colours will together blend, and form a dingy grey;\n And toads within their moss-grown pools will sing like thrushes gay.\u201d\n\n At this proposal Freya\u2019s breast with indignation swell\u2019d,\n And thus with words of bitter scorn Lok\u2019s project she repell\u2019d:\n \u201cWere Freya to the giant\u2019s land disposed to go with thee,\n Must Freya terribly, forsooth, in want of husband be.\u201d\n\n But now the Asar, when the sun its earliest rays display\u2019d,\n Assemble all to hold the Ting beneath Yggdrassil\u2019s shade.\n There, to avoid temptation, they did not Lok invite:\n But Lok to visit Heimdal went towards the rainbow bright:\n Soft in his ear he whisper\u2019d, gave counsel, swore that zeal\n For Valhall had induced him that mission to fulfil:\n \u201cThe gods,\u201d said he, \u201cI know, \u2019gainst me a strong aversion have,\n But the whole thing, as thou perceiv\u2019st, is of importance grave.\n Thee judgment lacks not; my advice thou\u2019st heard me frankly state;\n Follow it, if it seem thee good: if not, reject it strait!\n But whatsoever be resolv\u2019d, let it be quickly done,\n For execution the design should follow hard upon.\n Heimdaller who had heard what past \u2019tween Lok and Thrymur grim\n At th\u2019 entrance of the grot, and knew, Lok did not lie this time,\n Approved of the proposal, and took the counsel well:\n The worm thus often pierceth the nut with hardest shell.\u201d\n\n Then Asa-Heimdal at the Ting thus spake aloud: \u201c\u2019Tis time\n The giants\u2019 pride to tame, methinks, and vanquish Jotunheim.\n To raise them to the rank of gods, that oft we\u2019ve done; thereby\n Our strength we lost not: doth not Niord fierce Skada mollify?\n And \u00c6gir with his potent arm check Rana\u2019s perfidy?\n Young Gerda dotes upon her spouse; she\u2019s full of charm and grace;\n She gave Skidbladner to the gods; she\u2019s of a better race:\n Women with coal-black hair from her descend, within whose blood\n The flame of love more ardent glows. Say! were not Lok a god,\n What mischief might he not effect in regions void of light?\n And hath not oft the moon bestow\u2019d the power of day on night?\n But should light\u2019s ray, deserting heaven, descend into th\u2019 abyss,\n Would not for ever disappear our glory, strength, and bliss?\n Shall we then Freya cede? ah no! by the great gods, I swear,\n Valhall a joyless waste would prove, if Freya were not there.\n Iduna\u2019s fruit of health and youth accords, \u2019tis true, the power,\n But Freya \u2019tis who sows the seed of love\u2019s delightful flower:\n We all admire her; when the gods she folds in her embrace,\n The ecstacy that fills their soul what tongue hath power to trace?\n And shall that lovely Disa depart from us for aye?\n Shall mist for ever darken Folkvangur\u2019s vivid ray?\n And must that bosom soft and fair against the hairy breast\n Of the rough giant throb, and by his rugged hand be prest?\n Shall lips, which utter tones so mild, and soul unite with soul,\n Be soil\u2019d by the disgusting kiss of such a goblin foul?\n Shall eyes, whose soul-subduing rays a power resistless prove,\n Be doom\u2019d to contemplate a form impossible to love?\n No! rather let Yggdrassil\u2019s top in Nastrond\u2019s marsh corrode,\n Or Bifrost sink dissolv\u2019d in dew to \u00c6gir\u2019s deep abode!\n Myself, who on the brink of heaven must watchful stand in arms,\n I can but catch a fleeting glimpse of Freya\u2019s matchless charms:\n But when, each morning, crown\u2019d with flowers she o\u2019er my bridge doth pass,\n With fecundating smile the realm of mother Earth to grace,\n With tenfold zeal inspired, in hand my Gialler-horn I take;\n Its joyous tones to love of life and strength mankind awake:\n Quitting his nest, then soars the lark towards the celestial height;\n A thousand carols to the world proclaim with loud delight,\n That Freya\u2019s soul-enchanting smile hath bless\u2019d Heimdaller\u2019s sight.\u201d\n Heimdaller\u2019s words find no dissent: the Asars\u2019 hearts they move;\n And Freya\u2019s eyes rewarded him with such sweet looks of love,\n He blush\u2019d like morn, when through night\u2019s veil the day begins to break:\n Tears glisten\u2019d in his radiant eyes, and roll\u2019d adown his cheek.\n\n Heimdaller then Lok\u2019s plan explained, and spoke: \u201cYe Asar high!\n His hammer Thor will ne\u2019er regain, unless we mystify\n The amorous giant: as ye know, he seeks a bride more fair\n Than those he\u2019s been accustomed to, in his dark mountain lair.\n Unused to females, who possess grace, beauty, symmetry.\n To dupe the giant\u2019s senses coarse no arduous task would be.\n If Thor will but consent to dress in feminine attire,\n There is a bride at once most fit to cool the giant\u2019s fire!\n Let Thor like Freya be array\u2019d: to further the deceit\n She\u2019ll not refuse, I trow, to lend the robes and jewels meet.\n Odin a lotion too can give of faculty divine\n To wash off all callosity and roughness from the skin.\n Thor then, with face as white as meal, and cheek as red as blood,\n Will lose his shaggy beard, \u2019tis true, but not his hardihood.\n Let the famed necklace Brising about his neck be wound;\n There in exchange for Mi\u00f6lner a bride at once is found!\n Before his bosom two round stones we\u2019ll fix within his vest,\n And there, in outward form at least, appears a woman\u2019s breast!\n And these when wrapp\u2019d in scarlet cloth, at the bare sight will fill\n With sulphur all the giant\u2019s veins, and cause his blood to thrill.\n A bonnet with a long white veil to grace his brows were meet;\n And bunch of keys, tied to his waist, the bridal dress complete.\n Lok too, as waiting-maid attired, with Thor shall bend his way\n To Utgard\u2019s realm: he\u2019ll not refuse, I guess, this part to play,\n Then, when Thor sits upon the couch in the dark giant\u2019s dome,\n When bearing Mi\u00f6lner in their arms the black dwarfs forward come,\n When Thrymur, drunk with love, shall place the hammer on Thor\u2019s breast,\n What then Thor has to do, methinks, I need not here suggest.\n In Heimdal \u2019twere presumption great, by words or argument,\n To teach great Asa-Thor the use of his own instrument.\u201d\n\n With joy the Disar clapp\u2019d their hands, and with each other vied,\n Delighted with the stratagem, to dress up Thor as bride.\n The gods indulge in hearty laugh; Yggdrassil flouts the sky;\n Its branches green wave o\u2019er the roof of Valhall gloriously.\n Balder, Forsete, Mimer were absent from the Ting,\n And mightily this favour\u2019d Lok\u2019s project. Drupner ring\n On Odin\u2019s finger dropp\u2019d, indeed, on the grass others nine,\n And fain, to its construction true, would warn its lord divine:\n But the Asynior\u2019s laughter gay banish\u2019d from Odin\u2019s breast\n All scruples; so that Loptur\u2019s guile he deem\u2019d a harmless jest.\n Thor did indeed remonstrate: \u201cHow? as female, Thor appear?\n Unheard of! ne\u2019er can I consent the female garb to wear.\u201d\n But Freya with her lily hand patted his cheek, and lo!\n All scruples vanished from his breast, all wrinkles from his brow.\n \u201c\u2019Tis true,\u201d said Freya, \u201cmortal man composed of wretched dust\n Must by his nature ever be a victim to mistrust;\n Must ever guard himself against the influence of hate,\n Which ne\u2019er the most illustrious deeds fails to calumniate;\n But Thor in Trudvang rules; who dare his acts divine arraign?\n Surely to aid a humorous freak his godhead cannot slain.\u201d\n\n Young Fulla, bearing Freya\u2019s robes, now enter\u2019d in the hall;\n But Odin\u2019s hand must widen them; for Thor they were too small:\n But to give him a slender waist their utmost efforts fail,\n For he was stout, and would not move without his coat of mail.\n Now on his breast the two round stones \u2019twas Hermod\u2019s task to place;\n At this the fair Valkyrior blush\u2019d, and laugh\u2019d, and hid their face.\n Now they suspend about his neck the necklace, Brising hight,\n With many a ruby rich adorn\u2019d, and many a diamond bright.\n Now to the face and neck of Thor Odin applied his hand;\n All roughness vanish\u2019d at the touch: white, delicate and bland\n Became his skin; no hue remain\u2019d, which Thor could designate.\n Now round his brazen helm a cap with long white veil they plait;\n He don\u2019d his gloves, and Megingard around his girdle laced,\n To act with force, when in his hand his Mi\u00f6lner should be placed.\n\n Now red they take to paint his cheek; they cut his nails; when drest,\n A sprig of whitethorn in full bloom they fasten to his breast.\n Now round the god travestied thus th\u2019 Asynior young and gay,\n Like children at a fav\u2019rite game, delighted frisk and play:\n \u201cO Thrymur! gallant Thrymur!\u201d in chorus loud they chime,\n \u201cHast thou ne\u2019er been love\u2019s vassal, thou\u2019lt not escape this time.\u201d\n To harness now and yoke the goats was Tialf\u2019s peculiar care:\n Then Thor and Lok in female garb ascend the golden car.\n Thus down o\u2019er Bifrost\u2019s dizzy height, in Freya\u2019s robes array\u2019d,\n Drove Asa-Thor; a tinge of rose the vault of heav\u2019n o\u2019erspread.\n As the car pass\u2019d, Heimdaller blew his horn in glorious style,\n The virgins nine salute the god with fascinating smile.\n Seen from the earth, like meteor bright the golden car appear\u2019d;\n This time no thunder shook the poles; no forked lightnings glared:\n The car athwart the azure sky swift glided like a swan;\n Therein sat Tialfe, Asa-Lok, and Thor, the giants\u2019 bane.[100]\n\n\n\n\nCANTO XXIX.\n\nTHE HAMMER OF THOR RECOVERED.\n\n\n Seated in his golden car,\n Gliding swift as shooting star,\n Thor, with Loptur by his side,\n Towards the giant\u2019s dwelling hied.\n Lok on treason ever bent,\n Pleased his foes to circumvent,\n At the triumph of his guile\n Chuckled with malignant smile.\n\n Now tremble the rocks! they proceed on their way:\n The mountains a wide yawning entrance display!\n But only half open the portal was found;\n And a flame often flash\u2019d through the darkness profound.\n\n Black as jet, but streak\u2019d with flame,\n Thrymur to the portal came:\n There the giant proud and strong\n Tower\u2019d amidst his vassal throng!\n On his brows a diadem\n Deck\u2019d with many a brilliant gem.\n Now he greets, with conscious pride,\n Graciously his beauteous bride.\n\n At the porch as his life-guards six monarchs behold!\n One glitt\u2019ring in Silver; one flaming in Gold;\n One in Iron dark blue; one in Copper bright red;\n White in Tin was this chieftain; that, sable in Lead.\n\n From the car the gods descend:\n Thrymur see! his hand extend\n To conduct his fancied spouse:\n High his blood with passion glows.\n Many a gloomy corridor\n Must the Asar pass, before\n They can reach the giant\u2019s throne,\n Shining in the vast saloon.\n\n Each gem, like a princess so fine and so fair,\n Graced the hall: sprightly Ruby, gay Emerald was there;\n Mild Sapphire, and Diamond so regal in mien:\n Their splendid tiaras enliven the scene.\n\n Through the humid caverns, where\n Sunbeam ne\u2019er hath cheer\u2019d the air,\n Thor moves onward, free from dread,\n By his giant consort led.\n Little dwarfs, the way to show,\n Foremost march the gall\u2019ries through,\n Holding each a sulphur brand\n Blazing in his rugged hand.\n\n Half conceal\u2019d in a corner, and far from the light,\n There stand the shield-bearers, all ready for fight:\n There was sour-featur\u2019d Vitriol, and Arsenic fell,\n Whose look would the stoutest assailant repel.\n\n Like a little child in mien,\n Pale and cross was Cobalt seen:\n Oft it stared with ghastly frown,\n Sitting on the gelid stone.\n Through the hall its fetid breath\n Spread around a scent of death:\n Legs it had not, but a pad\n Crown\u2019d its venom-swelter\u2019d head.\n\n In the midst of the hall blazed a coal-cover\u2019d pyre,\n And the giants assembled in troops round the fire:\n Cuirasses they wore on their hair-cover\u2019d breasts,\n And defiance they breath\u2019d with their high-waving crests.\n\n Echoing now the rocks among\n Loud they chaunt a magic song:\n Like the dismal yell its sound\n Of the agonizing hound,\n When its belly drips with gore\n Torn by tusk of angry boar,\n While his bowels o\u2019er the plain,\n Gasping short, he trails with pain.\n\n Dame Hela two chieftains illustrious had sent\n From her palace; they both were of regal descent:\n Consumption, in gorgeous apparel array\u2019d;\n Plague, with spots on his robe, and all conquering blade.\n\n Sole of all the giant race\n Lok of Utgard did not grace\n Thrymur\u2019s hall that marriage night:\n Visions dire his mind affright.\n Treason doth he apprehend;\n Carrion scents his nose offend.\n In a corner now was spread\n Deck\u2019d with skins the nuptial bed.\n\n While all the old giants and infants were stow\u2019d,\n Wrapt in sleep, in the sov\u2019reign of Utgard\u2019s abode,\n Each grown male and female, each maiden and swain\n To assist at the marriage of Thrymur remain.\n\n Thor in silken robe array\u2019d\n Counterfeits the bashful maid:\n Now his eyes he glanced around;\n Now he fix\u2019d them on the ground:\n Now the two round stones inspire\n Thrymur\u2019s breast with amorous fire.\n Then the goblet-bearing swain\n Enter\u2019d midst the festive train.\n\n Now with hydromel sparkling each goblet he fill\u2019d;\n Now into the hall rush\u2019d the giants so wild:\n With flames now the cheeks of each other they smutted,\n And, like rams, with the horns on their temples they butted.\n\n Eager now to join the feast\n Towards the board each giant prest:\n Much they stared the bride to see\n Eat and drink so lustily:\n Though he many a goblet drain\u2019d,\n Thor unsated still remain\u2019d:\n Still he for more liquor cries:\n What a sight for Thrymur\u2019s eyes!\n\n Scarce fill\u2019d was Thor\u2019s goblet, he emptied it strait,\n Though fill\u2019d to the brim; a whole ox he ate,\n Eight salmon to boot; and with marvellous speed\n The husband of Sif swallow\u2019d three tons of mead.\n\n Then said Thrymur: \u201cSo much meat,\n So much fish doth Freya eat?\n So much beer? so much mead\n Can she swallow? strange, indeed!\n Who would not astonish\u2019d be\n Such a dainty dame to see\n Drain each oft replenish\u2019d bowl,\n As \u2019twere but a thimble-full?\u201d\n\n But Lok, who as waiting-maid stood by the side\n Of Thor, in excuse whisper\u2019d Thrymur. \u201cThy bride\n Eight nights without eating or drinking hath past,\n And deep longing for thee was the cause of her fast.\u201d\n\n Thrymur now at what he heard\n Chuckled joyful in his beard:\n See him with enamour\u2019d mien\n Towards his consort\u2019s bosom lean!\n But Thor\u2019s flashing eyes subdued\n Soon the lover\u2019s hardihood;\n Quick the giant must retire\n Aw\u2019d by Aukthor\u2019s look of fire.\n\n Then said Lok, from the giant all fears to remove:\n \u201cHer thoughts ever dwelling on Thrymur and love,\n Poor Freya eight nights without sleeping hath past,\n Hence her eyes are so red, and her brow overcast.\u201d\n\n Then a female black as coal,\n With short frizzled hair like wool,\n Enter\u2019d in the festive hall;\n Young was she, smooth skinn\u2019d, and tall:\n On her brows a crown she wore,\n Emblem of her regal power:\n While around her waist a zone\n Deck\u2019d with many a jewel shone.\n\n \u201cCome, sister! \u2019tis time (so a truce to your blushes)\n To couch with your bridegroom on bed of dry rushes:\n As consort of Thrymur I\u2019ll hail thee at morn;\n And many a gem shall thy temples adorn.\u201d\n\n Now to fetch the shaft divine,\n Giant Thrymur made a sign.\n \u201cIn the bosom of my bride\n Be it placed!\u201d the giant cried.\n \u201c\u2019Tis the hour of midnight; now\n Must be sworn the marriage vow:[101]\n Now by Mi\u00f6lner\u2019s iron bright\n Mutual faith and troth we\u2019ll plight.\u201d\n\n Scarce was utter\u2019d the order, when in came a troop\n Of dwarfs bearing Mi\u00f6lner; and oft must they stoop:\n Scarce sufficient were they, though their number was great.\n And they gasp and they groan under Mi\u00f6lner\u2019s vast weight.\n\n When the Asa held at last\n In his hands the hammer fast,\n Pleas\u2019d was he its nib to view\n Shining with reflection blue:\n Then he raised his stature up\n To the very cavern\u2019s top:\n Roll\u2019d his eye-balls flashing flame!\n Red, blood-red his cheek became!\n\n The head-dress and veil from his helmet drop down;\n Indignant he tore from his body the gown:\n With the beard on his chin, and the scars on his breast,\n The broad-shoulder\u2019d champion as Thor stood confest!\n\n Berserk fury in his eye,\n Now he swung his arm on high!\n While he dealt his deadly blows,\n Higher still his courage rose.\n Who shall now the carnage trace\n Of the wretched Jotun race?\n Ha! what bloody torrents roll\n From each giant\u2019s cloven skull!\n\n When Thrymur was kill\u2019d, arm\u2019d with club and with spear,\n Darting forth from their caverns fresh giants appear:\n But Thor hammer\u2019d round him as brisk as Vaulunder,\n When he beats on his anvil the iron asunder.\n\n Hrugner now, a man of stone,[102]\n Onward moved with haughty frown,\n While his eyes with ghastly glow\n Hurl\u2019d defiance on the foe:\n \u2019Stead of heart, within his breast\n Was a granite fragment placed;\n Twas three-corner\u2019d; there it stood\n Void of feeling, void of blood.\n\n And lo! for the giants a figure of clay\n Of aspect ferocious now join\u2019d in the fray!\n His bosom was fill\u2019d with the heart of a horse;\n Strong and mighty it made him, and swift at the course.\n\n Now \u2019gainst Hrugner naught alarm\u2019d\n Thor advanced with Mi\u00f6lner arm\u2019d.\n On the club of Hrugner, lo!\n Thor inflicts a deadly blow!\n With such energy \u2019twas given,\n Hrugner\u2019s mace was piecemeal riven,\n While its scatter\u2019d fragments fall,\n Frightful clatt\u2019ring round the hall.\n\n But the clay-fashion\u2019d chieftain was Mokkurcalf hight:\n He struck on his shield, and presumed on his might;\n But, pierced by the sword of young Tialf in the fray,\n The horse-fiend fell down with a horrible neigh.\n\n Now was heard the dying moan,\n Many a shriek and many a groan!\n Thor was dreadful in his ire;\n Naught could tame his warlike fire.\n Thousand giants round him lay,\n Victims of the bloody fray.\n Down like tool of paviour fell\n Mi\u00f6lner with a pond\u2019rous peal.\n\n Now, reeking with blood, sprang the treacherous Lok\n \u2019Mongst the wounded, like Nidding, their miseries to mock;\n When he met with a giant all drench\u2019d in his gore\n And dying, he laugh\u2019d, and he stabb\u2019d him once more.\n\n Now there reign\u2019d a silence deep,\n As when winds and billows sleep\n On the coast: with gloomy mien\n Thor beheld the frightful scene.\n From the giants\u2019 dark abode,\n Fill\u2019d with mangled limbs and blood,\n Every vital spark had fled:\n All was silent! all was dead!\n\n In vain all their courage the giants display;\n With eyes closed in death, like mow\u2019d rushes they lay:\n Naught remain\u2019d of their strength or their valour behind;\n From their bodies hath fled the invincible mind.\n\n As the lion, when his might\n Hath victorious proved in fight,\n Viewing now his vanquish\u2019d prey\n Breathless, bleeding, fore him lie,\n With revenge no longer burns,\n All his rage to pity turns,\n And the beasts\u2019 high-minded chief\n Ruminates in silent grief;\n\n Thus Thor, when his fury was o\u2019er, look\u2019d and sigh\u2019d\n Deep in silence and pensive, his victims beside:\n But Lok, like the lynx, from his lips licking gore,\n Grinn\u2019d with cruel delight, and still thirsted for more.\n\n\n\n\nCANTO XXX.\n\nTHE VALA\u2019S PROPHECY.\n\n\n As Thor sat silent, and the fight was o\u2019er,\n Slow from the giants\u2019 blood a smoke arose,\n And white and thick the vapour spread itself!\n Trembling with guilt and fear Lok veil\u2019d his face.\n At length the smoke, dissolving by degrees,\n Develop\u2019d a gigantic female form:\n Silent she stood; her eyelids were half-closed;\n Her visage pale as death: through all the caves\n Glimmer\u2019d a lurid flame. Upon the brow\n Of Lok glared visibly the stamp of crime.\n\n The mountain dame long contemplated Thor\n With look serene, though stern: the god remain\u2019d\n Mournful and mute. At length a sigh exhaled\n Of deep compassion from her lab\u2019ring breast:\n Grave was her aspect; in each feature reign\u2019d\n The calm of peace: peculiar tenderness,\n Mix\u2019d with severity, restrain\u2019d her wrath.\n\n \u201cSad tidings have I to announce to thee,\n O Thor!\u201d thus she began; \u201cfor thou hast soil\u2019d\n Thy honour: Lok hath taught thee how to sin.\n But for a short time longer shalt thou bear\n Thy Mi\u00f6lner: sore it grieves me to announce\n Thy fall, O Thor! for thou art good and brave,\n And dear to me for aye will be thy name.\n But the whole Ocean cannot wash away\n The rust that stains thy shield; then listen now\n Calmly to what I shall unfold, and learn\n From me thy future fate! Though all creation\n To ashes burn, yet that which is eternal\n No flame consumes; \u2019tis only the foul mask\n That bursts, and falls to dust.\n\n I sing to thee\n A song of heavy import, \u201cthe World\u2019s End.\u201d\n Into Valhalla\u2019s realm shall find its way\n Corruption leagued with pain: with splendour false\n Dazzled your eyes become, like those of man:\n This deeply moves the pious Balder\u2019s heart;\n He warns, but warns in vain; unheeded still\n Remains his counsel sage: the heavenly Frigga\n Now to a mere terrestrial Hertha sinks:\n In Freya\u2019s look voluptuousness alone\n Predominates and burns: ferocious Thor\n Becomes, and Odin weak: then Lok shall weave\n His woof of treach\u2019ry and deceit: all things\n Forebode the fall of the degen\u2019rate world:\n Frivolity with vice reigns close allied;\n Then bursts thy roof of pearl, O Breidablik!\n Lok in the dark the fatal arrow guides;\n Drown\u2019d in fraternal blood affection lies:\n The corpse of Balder decks the pyre: the race\n Of Alfer disappear from Valaskialf:\n Peace is compell\u2019d to abdicate her reign,\n While war and pestilence rage uncontroll\u2019d.\n Now every day still more and more corrupt\n Becomes the race of Askur; no respect\n Is paid to oaths: i\u2019 th\u2019 hand of brutal force\n The glaive tyrannic crushes and dethrones\n Truth, piety, and justice: idols grim\n Of stone, or wood, or brass, alone are worshipp\u2019d,\n Where whilom burnt a pure and holy flame.\n Now men are sacrificed at Odin\u2019s shrine\n Like cattle: many a gentle maiden drown\u2019d\n In Hertha\u2019s honour in the mystic grove.\n Where then shall innocence protection find?\n The probity so famed of th\u2019 olden time\n Hath vanish\u2019d from the earth: but Lok! thy joy\n Shall be of short duration; thou shall fall\n A victim to thy own insidious arts;\n Thou first didst cruelty to th\u2019 Asar teach,\n And cruel shall thy expiation be.\n In a deep subterranean cave shall thou\n Be captive held, and rage and foam in vain:\n The Asar in their wrath shall seize and fasten\n Thy body to a rock: one peak shall bear\n Thy shoulder, one thy loins, and one thy knees.\n No one for thee the smallest pity feels:\n Thy sons each other shall, like wolves, devour,\n And their intestines bind their guilty sire.\n Yet true and faithful shall remain thy spouse,\n And she alone; and though the serpents huge\n Hang venom-breathing o\u2019er thee, pair by pair,\n Dropping their foam on thee but half alive,\n Yet Sigyn\u2019s gentle nature shall not fail;\n Assiduous she will stretch a vessel forth\n To shelter from the dropping venom him,\n Who once was dearly lov\u2019d: the vase, when fill\u2019d,\n She carries out; then on thy fester\u2019d wounds\n And lips the poison falls; writhing with pain\n Thou tremblest; at the shock earth trembles too.\n Then Odin hurls his javelin wide around,\n Slaying the wretched denizens of earth\n To gorge himself with plunder: blood doth cleave\n E\u2019en to the robe of peace: where then repose\n Can find the weary wand\u2019rer? lo! Guldveige\n Advances, goddess like! her shrine of gold\n Is worshipp\u2019d fervently o\u2019er hill and vale.\n She can the wildest wolf with fetters bind,\n Yet she capricious to the worst of men\n Accords her favours, and is prodigal\n Of treasure to the vile and base alone.\n\n Then is good counsel in Valhalla scarce,\n For Mimer hath long since the sacred grove\n Abandon\u2019d in despair, and in a well\n Dwells like a reptile. Odin, true, his eye\n Has given in pledge to him, that he may see\n More clear athwart the murkiness, but vain\n The gift; more dim doth Mimer\u2019s sight become.\n The vaults wide gaping of the rocks present\n The aspect of a coffin! Nastrond\u2019s gulf\n Opes its tremendous jaws, where serpents foul\n Hiss and exhale their poison all around,\n Mix\u2019d with the flame of sulphur burning blue!\n Into that gulf fall headlong down the men\n Who never felt repentance; round their limbs\n The speckled serpents coil, intent to bite:\n Huge as an ox, with formidable spring\n Conscience, the giant scorpion, tears the heart\n Of th\u2019 vicious with its fangs: deep in their flesh\n Fell Nidh\u00f6g revels with insatiate tooth:\n Flames crackle loud in the abyss profound,\n And Bragur\u2019s harp divine is heard no more.\n Down in Hvergelmer Elivagor roars;\n On every coast by shipwreck lives are lost:\n The ancient firs and oaks with branches bare\n Uprooted lie: the moon is swallow\u2019d up\n By Maanegarm: the sun, like out-burnt coal,\n Grows dark, while loud the giants\u2019 laugh resounds\n To mock the Asar with insulting gibe.\n Deep in the bosom of the mountain now\n Shall Utgard-Lok his progeny excite\n With eloquence indignant to avenge\n The death of their forefathers. Fialar now,\n The blood-red cock, is heard to crow! the dog\n Yells loud and oft before the cave of Gnypa!\n Then Hela opes her gates with frightful clang!\n With golden helms, and yellow tresses bright\n Wide streaming through the air, to battle ride\n The proud Valkyrior: the decrees of fate\n The Nornor now no longer can conceal.\n Then days of tempest, war, and pestilence\n And foul revolt arise: his brother\u2019s life\n The brother spareth not: no mercy shows\n Man, flush\u2019d with battle, to his fellow man.\n Shakes with affright Yggdrassil\u2019s top, and straight\n Becomes the prey of flames! the Asar tremble,\n And terror reigns upon their brows divine.\n Sighs from the rack and groans re-echo loud\n The miseries of the earth: upon the bridge\n Heimdaller perch\u2019d blows fearfully his horn\n To rouse all nature to th\u2019 eternal strife;\n While Jormundgardur lifts his head and hisses.\n With vapours dark the rainbow, once so bright,\n Becomes obscured: down ride the Asar: Bifrost\n Breaks down with frightful crash: the sky sucks up\n The vapour like a swamp: the heavens thus lose\n Their brightest ornament; while Naglefare,\n With giants fill\u2019d, through noisome weed-choked marsh\n Forces its way; the black flag at the mast\n Triumphant waves; Lok, prince of Utgard, stands\n Himself exulting at the prow, and calls\n Aloud for battle! All the giant band\n With clash of shields re-echo loud the cry!\n Now Fenris breaks his chain; he howls aloud,\n And hails the giants with applauding yell.\n His foam covers the ocean; with affright\n The stars fall headlong down from heav\u2019n, and sink\n With hissing noise, extinguish\u2019d, in the sea.\n Upon the waters all the fish lie dead:\n Now slowly rising from the south advances\n A column thick of vapour! joy pervades\n The giants\u2019 hearts, when they behold the flame\n Athwart the sultry vapour burning blue.\n \u2019Tis Surtur, whom the vast abyss sends forth,\n Of the most frightful darkness puissant chief,\n Grasping in both black hands his steel-blue glaive.\n Now towards Valhalla\u2019s realm he seems to move;\n Now towards the earth: he rolls along the sky,\n And vapours foul, and howlings horrible\n Conglomerate around his dusky brow.\n But who \u2019gainst Surtur rushes to the fight?\n \u2019Tis Frey; but he turns pale, for now his sword\n He hath not: hark! a trampling loud is heard\n Of horses\u2019 hoofs: \u2019tis Odin; see! he hastes\n To join the combat, boldly piercing through\n The thickest of the fight: upon his front\n The scars of Geirsodd bleed afresh: his steed\n Is white; a golden crest gleams on his helm:\n With Gugner[103] arm\u2019d he rushes on the wolf!\n Alas! by Fenris\u2019 jaws Valhalla\u2019s lord\n Is seiz\u2019d and swallow\u2019d up!--a morning ray\n Of purple shines afar with glimm\u2019ring light--\n \u2019Tis Odin\u2019s blood.--Now Frigga in the sky\n Is seen wringing her hands, with aspect pale:\n She strives grave Vidar\u2019s courage to excite:\n Like whirlwind in the midst of vapour forth\n She sends her son. Vidar no longer now\n Keeps silence; fearfully he groans and sighs:\n His eyes flash fire, but with extended jaws\n Fenris, the wolf, rushes to meet his foe,\n Gnashing his frightful teeth: but Vidar soon\n O\u2019ercomes the wolf, as were he but a whelp:\n He throws him on his back, tears out his tongue,\n And tramples him to death beneath his feet.\n At length arrives a great important hour,\n For now to vapour by the power of fire\n The waters all dissolve, and the white sand\n Of ocean\u2019s depth extreme is bared to view.\n Now Jormundgardur feels the burning heat,\n And writhes impatient with sensation strange,\n Unused on land to fold himself in coils.\n See with uplifted hammer Thor approach!\n So fierce a combat ne\u2019er was seen before:\n The snake with cunning strives around the limbs\n Of Thor, in brazen armour cased, to wind\n His dark blue rings, while on the monster\u2019s scales\n The hero\u2019s hammer deals repeated blows.\n Long and uncertain lasts the awful fight;\n At length is heard a hideous scream; for now\n Victorious Thor hath given the mortal blow,\n And tramples with his heel the monster\u2019s head.\n But in the agonies of death around\n The hero\u2019s feet the serpent winds his folds\n Still closer, and with venom-spreading foam\n Bedews the conqueror\u2019s front, and groans and dies.\n Thor stands victorious; but too soon grows pale;\n He staggers; now he rallies; now again\n Staggers nine paces; and sinks down in death!\n So heart-appalling is thy dying look,\n O Thor! th\u2019 Asynior all expire of grief:\n They feel it like a dagger in their heart.\n Garm destroys Tyr; but Tyr in dying pierces\n The monster\u2019s heart: now from his lurking-place,\n Like cat, springs Lok, and brandishes on high\n A sulfurous torch from Nastrond; on his brow\n Glitters a brazen helm: Heimdaller moves\n \u2019Gainst him with sword uplifted, one blow strikes,\n And down to Nastrond sinks th\u2019 eternal foe.\n Then vanishes like colours in the night\n Heimdaller\u2019s self: the dwarfs are heard to sigh\n Deep in the rocks; they die of fright; yet shines\n Awhile the golden car of Thor; but soon\n It disappears: the two white goats expire.\n But lately gleam\u2019d a feeble light, but now\n \u2019Tis utterly extinguish\u2019d: all creation\n Sinks overwhelm\u2019d in one vast shower of blood.\n Alfader reigns once more sole lord of all.\n\n With mind reluctant hitherto have I\n A strain interpreted of presage dire,\n The world\u2019s destruction, and the Asar\u2019s fall.\n But listen now to a more pleasing theme,\n The hope and consolation that ensue!\n From ocean\u2019s depth a new-form\u2019d earth shall spring!\n The azure wave reflect the new-spun grass!\n Again adown the rock the cataract fall,\n O\u2019er which clouds fleeting pass, and eagles soar!\n On Ida\u2019s plain the Asar all assembled\n Again awake to new-framed life and joy!\n All recollection of the ancient strife\n Is banish\u2019d from their minds; a new-born child,\n A graceful daughter hath the sun produced,\n Who shall upon her mother\u2019s well-known path\n All glorious move, but far more beautiful\n Than her, by all so dearly loved and prized.\n The human race shall likewise be restored\n To life from their long slumber: now awake\n Lif and Liftrasir, by the morning dew\n Refresh\u2019d and nourish\u2019d: then shall every grief\n Seem but remembrance of a painful dream.\n The Asar all shall to the grove repair,\n Where amidst flowers the crystal fountain streams:\n In all his glory will Alfader then\n Reveal himself to man; his buckler hold\n On high, glitt\u2019ring with runes, whose sense sublime\n Shall shield his children from all future harm.\n Tablets of gold, with golden counters deck\u2019d,\n Shall in the grass be found, where violets\n Give fragrant odour: on each counter shines\n Each thought and action of a human life.\n The facts of old shall mere illusion prove,\n And med\u2019cine, what was whilom poison held.\n The corn shall not the sower\u2019s toil require,\n But spring spontaneous from the womb of earth:\n No serpent lurk beneath the flower; all evil\n Shall vanish: order, justice, truth and love\n Eternally triumphant now shall reign.\n Then high above Valhalla\u2019s roof extends\n The dwelling of the blest, the glorious Gimle,\n Pavilion of the Good; an edifice\n Which naught can shake, naught injure or destroy.\n There shall the tender heart of Balder find\n True consolation; there shall he again\n Embrace his brother H\u00e6dur: Bragur too\n Shall press Iduna to his breast once more:\n Freya again her long lost Odur meet:\n Frey fold his faithful Gerda in his arms:\n Thor Sif embrace. All hearts shall cease to bleed.\n But Mi\u00f6lner is not to be found in Gimle:\n Behold! with smile of love ineffable\n Alfader gives to Thor a glaive, whose hilt\n Shines forth in form of cross with lilies graced.\n \u201cNow,\u201d said the Vala, \u201chave my lips reveal\u2019d\n All that time yet conceals: my solemn words\n Ponder, O Thor! for I must now depart,\n Recall\u2019d by him, at whose behest I came.\u201d\n\n Thus said, she sank into the yawning ground!\n A fearful gust of wind howl\u2019d through the rocks,\n And in the cave Thor found himself alone:\n His hammer in his bosom lay; at once\n He recognized the fatal weapon. Tialfe\n Lay slumb\u2019ring by his side: in heaps around\n The giants\u2019 bodies strew\u2019d, all drench\u2019d with gore;\n Bore witness to the prowess he display\u2019d.\n Thor now again ascends to Valaskialf:\n The Vala\u2019s revelation he imparts\n To Odin: Odin and the Asar all\n Silent remain, immers\u2019d in thought profound!\n Here ends my song about the Gods on high.\n\n\n\n\nNOTES AND ELUCIDATIONS.\n\n\nNOTES TO THE FIRST CANTO.\n\nSpecimen of the metre in the original.\n\n Et Sagn fuld vaerd at h\u00f6re\n Med gamle Runer staaer;\n Laaner mig Eders Oere!\n Mens jeg Guldharpen slaaer.\n Hvad i de m\u00f6rke Skrifter\n Er sat med sindrig Hu\n Om Asernes Bedrifter,\n Det vil jeg tolke nu.\n\nThe eight first Cantos, in the original, are written in the same metre.\nIn my translation, as will be seen, I have indulged in greater variety.\n\n[13] In the heathen time there was a magnificent temple at Upsala. The\npoet here probably alludes to some earthquake, or convulsion of nature,\nwhich damaged or destroyed it, and which was therefore supposed to be\noccasioned by Utgard-Lok, the chief of the giants.\n\n[14] This Ash is the ash-tree Yggdrassil. See the Catalogue of proper\nnames.\n\n[15] The Valkyrior.\n\n[16] By the _seven virgins_ are no doubt personified the _seven\ncolours_ of the rainbow.\n\n[17] By the mythe of the death and resuscitation of Thor\u2019s goats, is\nmeant probably the death of nature in winter, and her resuscitation\nin spring. By the marrow eaten by Tialfe, and the lameness of the\ngoat occasioned thereby, it is meant, that if the seed or germ of\nreproduction in animals or plants be damaged or destroyed, the\nreproduction becomes imperfect, or impossible.\n\n[18] The pact between Niord and \u00c6gir means, that when the sea is frozen\nby the north wind, the weather is perfectly calm, and the sea itself\npassable as dry land.\n\n[19] What this hut turns out to be, is explained in the second Canto.\n\n\nNOTES TO THE SECOND CANTO.\n\nSpecimen of the metre in the original.\n\n Com Thor med vaagent Oere\n Ru tr\u00f6stig sad i\u0331 Mag,\n Da fik han snart at h\u00f6re\n Et svart og vaeldigt Brag, etc.\n\n[20] Goblin-land: in the original _Troldk\u00e6mpeland_, from _trold_\n(goblin) _k\u00e6mpe_ (warrior) and _land_ (land). The giants are often\ncalled Troldk\u00e6mper. Who Skrymur turns out to be, is explained in the\nsixth Canto.\n\n[21] Respecting this glove, the following is Finn Magnussen\u2019s idea of\nthe mythe. Skrymur is the frost-giant, personification of winter. Thor\nreposing in the glove denotes the beginning of winter, when the thunder\nor thunderer may be said to rest therein, allegorically (there being\nno thunder in winter). This hieroglyph is very ancient, inasmuch as\nIcelandic word _v\u00f6ttr_ (glove) proceeds probably from _vetr_ (winter);\nthe glove being the part of dress particularly appropriate to and\nonly used in winter in those times, as the muff is still, in northern\nEurope.\n\n[22] Respecting Skrymur\u2019s wallet, which Thor is unable to untie or\nopen, Finn Magnussen says: \u201cI think this mythe is enigmatical, and\nalludes to winter (the frost-giant), which may be said to prevent man\nfrom getting his food from the earth, by envelopping it in ice.\u201d In the\nprosaic Edda, Utgard-Lok says, in explaining to Thor his magic spells,\n\u201cThe wallet I gave to you, was made fast with an iron girdle;\u201d now\nthere is a close analogy between the words denoting _ice_ and _iron_\nin many of the Gothic languages. Ex: in Icelandic, _is_ (ice) _isarn_\n(iron); in German, _eis_ (ice) _eisen_ (iron); in Dutch, _ijs_ (ice)\n_ijzer_ (iron); in Anglo-Saxon, _is_ (ice) _isen_ (iron).\n\n[23] The ancient northmen, who oriented themselves with the help of the\nmountains, figured to themselves the north as lying towards our east\nor north-east. This will serve to explain the phrase, \u201cmountains vast\nwhich towards the north appear.\u201d The mountains lie really towards the\neast. Towards the north, on the contrary, the land becomes less and\nless elevated, as you draw near the pole.\n\n\nNOTES TO THE THIRD CANTO.\n\nSpecimen of the metre in the original.\n\n En Saga fast utroli\u0331g\n Jeg nu kundgi\u0331\u00f6re maa;\n Mod Utgards fierne Boli\u0331g\n Vilde de Kaemper gaae.\n\n[24] The name of this giantess is Angurbod: see the Catalogue of proper\nNames.\n\n[25] _Midgard\u2019s snake_ is the serpent Jormundgard, type of the ocean,\nwhich surrounds the earth (Midgard). According to Ling, a Swedish\npoet, the mythe of Lok and his three offspring, Fenris, Hela and\nJormundgard, may be thus explained. Fenris denotes what is destructive\nor prejudicial in _Fire_: Hela denotes the deleterious qualities of the\n_Earth_, in decomposing substances and causing rottenness: Jormundgard\ndenotes the destructive qualities of _Water_: all these are caused by\nthe action of _Air_ (Lok or Loptur) mixing with _Angurbod_ (impurity).\nThe amour of Asa-Lok and Angurbod has some resemblance to the amour of\nthe giant Typhon with Echidna, which produced the Chimera, Cerberus and\nHydra of the Greek mythology.\n\n[26] The Hell of the Christians is always represented by theologians\nas a place of _eternal fire_; yet in the country where the religion\nof Odin prevailed, the inhabitants, from ancient custom, could not\nrefrain from considering it sometimes as a place of _eternal cold_. At\nleast, the idea sometimes breaks out in the ballads composed long after\nthe introduction of Christianity. In a Scottish ballad, for instance,\ninserted by Walter Scott in his \u201cMinstrelsey of the Scottish Border,\u201d\nthere is the following stanza:\n\n O whaten a mountain is yon, she said,\n All so dreary wi\u2019 frost and snow?\n O yon is the mountain of Hell, he cried,\n Where you and I must go.\n\n\nNOTES TO THE FOURTH CANTO.\n\nSpecimen of the original.\n\n Da laa ret for hans Oeje\n Den store Utgardstad;\n Det kunde vel forn\u00f6ie,\n Han blev i Hu saa glad.\n\nFor this Canto, I have adopted a metre something similar to that used\nin B\u00fcrger\u2019s Leonora.\n\n[27] This vast and empty space is Ginnungagap.\n\n[28] The giantess Betsla. The Author, in his cosmogony, has adhered\nclosely to the Edda.\n\n\nNOTES TO THE FIFTH CANTO.\n\nSpecimen of the original.\n\n Da ved de brede Borde\n De Kaemper rundt nu sad,\n Tog Loke snilt ti\u0331l Orde,\n Den muntre Usa glad, etc.\n\n[29] Who this Goblin turns out to be, is explained in the next Canto.\n\n[30] Little Thumb; so I translate _Tommeliden_, the name of\nUtgard-Lok\u2019s racer; who he, the drinking-horn presented to Thor, the\ncat, and the old woman turn out be, all this is explained in the next\nCanto.\n\n[31] I do not find in the Edda any mention of this feat; it is probably\nthe poet\u2019s own invention, and meant as a pendant to the episode of Mars\nand Venus.\n\n[32] Let no one be astonished, that the car of the goddess of love\nshould be drawn by cats. Cats are the most ardent and persevering of\nlovers. The celebrated Spanish poet Lope de Vega has said of them,\n\n Los gatos en efeto\n Son del amor el indice perfeto.\n\nand in another place,\n\n Que cosa puede haber con que se iguale\n La paciencia de un gato enamorado?\n\n[33] This combat between Thor and the giantesses on the rocky isle\nis alluded to in the elder or poetic Edda, in the chapter called\n\u201cHarbard\u2019s song.\u201d Harbard makes Thor the following reproach, when the\nlatter tells him that he had beaten and put to flight the giantesses on\nthe isle of Hlesey:\n\n Shamefully didst thou act, O Thor!\n When thou didst beat women.\n\nThor answers:\n\n They were not women;\n They were she-wolves;\n They attacked me with iron clubs.\n\nThe meaning of this, according to Finn Magnussen, is, that the noxious\nvapours and tempest on Hlesey were dispersed by a thunderstorm; and the\n_iron clubs_ denote _hailstones_.\n\n[34] The apple of Iduna. See the Catalogue.\n\n\nNOTES TO THE SIXTH CANTO.\n\nSpecimen of the original.\n\n Da nu den Helt hi\u0331n svare\n Midt udi Marken stod,\n Alt under Himlen klare,\n Med Blomster ved sin Fod, etc.\n\n[35] The circumstance of the dwarf\u2019s face being veiled, means, that the\n_thought_ of Utgard-Lok could not be divined by Thor.\n\n[36] It was a saying in the pagan time, when the ebb began, \u201cThor\ndrinks.\u201d\n\nThe Author has adhered closely to the prosaic Edda in his narration of\nThor\u2019s adventure in Utgard.\n\nWith respect to the two Loks, and the difference between them, it is\nnot a little curious to find that in the gospel of Nicodemus (one\nof those rejected by the council of Nice, chap. xx, verses 2 and\nfollowing), Satan and the prince of hell are described as two distinct\npersons; and when Satan informs the latter, that he has achieved for\nhim a great conquest, by bringing captive to his realm no less a\npersonage than Jesus Christ, the prince of hell, instead of thanking\nSatan for that service, loads him with reproaches for his unpardonable\nthoughtlessness, in bringing into his dominions a person by whom he\n(the prince of hell) had sustained a serious detriment, in the loss of\nsundry souls, whom Jesus Christ, in escaping from hell, had carried off\nwith him, and who, but for that visit, would still have remained there.\n\nIt is singular that this comparison should have escaped the notice,\nnot only of Finn Magnussen, but that of all the other commentators of\nthe Edda, when discussing the subject of the two Loks. I stumbled by\nmere chance three years ago on a copy of the apocryphal New Testament\nin German, and on reading the chapter above quoted, the idea of this\nanalogy immediately and forcibly struck me.\n\n\nNOTES TO THE SEVENTH CANTO.\n\nSpecimen of the original.\n\n Thor monne sig omgiorde,\n Og kasted vidt sit Blik;\n De rige, fede Hiorde\n Saa stadigt rundt ham gik.\n\n[37] In amplifying this stanza, I could not avoid borrowing something\nfrom Mason, in that beautiful chorus of Elfrida, beginning,\n\n \u201cSay! will no white-robed son of light,\u201d\n\nand the words\n\n \u201cWhose cheek but emulates the peach\u2019s bloom,\n \u201cWhose breath the hyacinth\u2019s perfume,\u201d\n\noccurring to my memory, I made no scruple of adopting them, and I am\nsure my readers will view with an indulgent eye this plagiarism.\n\n[38] The classical reader will be reminded in this passage of the\nspeech of Jupiter to Venus, when she is wounded by Diomed:\n\n \u039f\u03c5 \u03c4\u03bf\u03b9, \u03c4\u03b5\u03ba\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u03b5\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd, \u03b4\u03b5\u03b4\u03bf\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03b5\u03bc\u03b7\u03b9\u03b1 \u03b5\u03c1\u03b3\u03b1, etc.\n\n\nNOTES TO THE EIGHTH CANTO.\n\nSpecimen of the original.\n\n Gud Thor, den Understaerke,\n Var ti\u0331t i\u0331 Hu saa gram;\n Han lod sig i\u0331ntet maerke,\n Dog tyktes det ham Skam,\n At Jetter ham turde giaekke, etc.\n\nBy way of variety, I have adopted a trochaic metre for my translation\nof this Canto.\n\n[39] The serpent Jormundgard, type of humidity and its dangerous\neffects; it is a happy idea of the poet to imagine all the serpent kind\nengendered by him.\n\nIn every mythology the serpent seems to be the emblem of humidity and\nits noxious qualities. The fable of Jormundgard has evidently given\nrise to the supposed existence of the kraken, or monstrous sea-serpent.\n\n[40] According to the Scandinavian belief, the half of those who fell\nin battle fell to the share of Odin, and the other half to Freya. Finn\nMagnussen thinks this to be a mistake, and that by Freya is meant\nFrigga, the wife of Odin. The allegory then becomes more clear: Odin\ntypifies the heavens, Frigga the earth; the spirits of the slain ascend\nto Odin, their bodies remain with Frigga.\n\nAnother very ingenious allegory lies in the nature of the nourishment\nused by Odin at the banquet of Valhalla. In the younger or prosaic Edda\nit is written, \u201cThe food that comes to his (Odin\u2019s) share, he gives to\nhis two wolves, Gere and Freke. He himself requires no solid food, for\nwine is to him both meat and drink.\u201d In the elder or poetic Edda it is\nthus written in the chapter called Grimnismal:\n\n \u201cThe warlike highly honoured\n Father of heroes gives his food\n To Gere and to Freke;\n For by wine alone\n Is the glorious Odin nourish\u2019d.\u201d\n\nBy this is meant, that in battle the spirits of the slain mount to\nheaven (Odin), while their bodies remain a prey to wolves, and other\nbeasts of prey. Spirits are typified by wine, the most spirituous of\nall fermented liquors.\n\nThe above quotations from the two Eddas afford, perhaps, the best\nillustration of the difference of their respective styles.\n\n\nNOTES TO THE NINTH CANTO.\n\nSpecimen of the original.\n\n Ormen laa paa salten Bund i\u0331 Havet,\n Straengt i Dybets Faengsel avet,\n Bag Steenplanterne begravet.\n Over ham fl\u00f6d fri og dristig Hvalen,\n Men i m\u00f6rke B\u00f6lgedalen\n Beed han slugen sig i Halen, etc.\n\nand so on in tercets. I have preferred the heroic couplet for my\ntranslation.\n\n[41] By Loptur\u2019s daughter is no doubt meant the queen of death, Hela.\n\nThis adventure of Thor with the serpent and giant Hymir is recounted in\nthe prosaic Edda.\n\nThe story of Thor losing his hammer Mi\u00f6lner in the scales of the body\nof the serpent Jormundgard has a resemblance to the story of Jupiter\nlosing his thunderbolts, and their falling into the hands of the giant\nTyphon, often represented as a dragon. Typhon, in Greek, means either\nthe giant of that name, or a whirlpool: now Jormundgard typifies the\nocean, and Mi\u00f6lner, the thunderbolt. The Grecian mythe is to be found\nin the first and second Cantos of the Dionysiacs, or triumphs of\nBacchus, in the celebrated Greek poem of Nonnus. These two mythes have\na still closer resemblance in their denouement, as will be seen by a\nreference to the Notes of the 29th Canto of this work.\n\n\nNOTES TO THE TENTH CANTO.\n\nSpecimen of the original.\n\n I Valaskialf sad Loke laenge,\n Han kieded sig, lod Hovdet haenge,\n Ei Valhals Glaeder meer ham smage.\n\n Man seer ham selv Saehrimner vrage;\n Han bittert leer og spotter Guder;\n\nand so on in tercets and couplets. I have adopted a free but rhymed\nmetre for my translation.\n\n\nNOTES TO THE ELEVENTH CANTO.\n\nSpecimen of the original.\n\n Tilgiv tvungne\n Trael af Elskov!\n At han dig atter\n Astsael finder:\n Bil du ei\u0331 vorde\n Billiens Frister,\n Bri\u0331nge du Brand i\n Blodet aldrig.\n\nI have given two translations of this Canto, one of which is an attempt\nto imitate the metre of the original, in which \u0152hlenschl\u00e4ger has\nsuccessfully imitated the alliterative metre of the Icelandic poetry.\n\n[42] Lassie; the liberty of using a Scottish word may well be allowed\nin a translation from the Danish, since there is so much affinity\nbetween the Danish and the Lowland Scotch languages.\n\n\nNOTES TO THE TWELFTH CANTO.\n\nSpecimen of the original.\n\n Han sad i Hallen og taenkte derpaa,\n Hans Haevn ham glaedte saa saare:\n Naar Sif sig nu speiler i blanken Aa,\n Da faelder hun modige Taare.\n\n[43] _By leek and by crout_: a common method of swearing among the\nScandinavians to this day.\n\n[44] _Bauta-sten_ means a tombstone, or funeral monument.\n\n[45] Odin\u2019s eye, i.e. the sun.\n\n[46] By this description, the poet has probably meant to designate the\nfossil formations of the earth.\n\n[47] The new hair made for Sif may possibly represent a meteor, comet,\nor shooting star, or perhaps _lightning_, as connected with thunder\n(Thor). Finn Magnussen thinks that, in this mythe, _Sif_ typifies the\n_earth_, and her hair the _corn_, which is cut down by Lok (time),\nand reproduced and gilded by him at the instigation of Thor; i.e. the\nelectrical heat of summer ripening the corn.\n\nI have adopted a similar metre to the original in my translation of\nthis Canto, but with greater prodigality of rhyme, the middle rhymes\nbeing only used by the author in the nine last stanzas.\n\n\nNOTES TO THE THIRTEENTH CANTO.\n\nSpecimen of the original.\n\n As-Odin ud med H\u00e6nir drog,\n Og med Loke, den Svend i Ophav staerk;\n De Menneskeskikkelser dem paatog.\n (Vil du kiaende di\u0331n Mand, pr\u00f6v selv hans Vaerk.)\n Af at sidde paa Stol i Hlidskialfs Slot\n Var Odin traet, den opmaerksomme Drot;\n Som Vandringsmand, i Skyggernes L\u00f6v\n Han aander, og f\u00f6ler selv sig St\u00f6v, etc.\n\nIn my translation of this Canto, I have adopted as a metre a stanza\nof eight lines, generally of ten syllables each, but admitting\noccasionally lines of eight or twelve syllables; the arrangement of the\nrhymes is varied. It is in fact exactly the same metre as that adopted\nby Schiller, in his translation of the second and fourth Books of the\n\u00c6neid, and by Wieland, in his poem of Idris and Zenide.\n\n[48] Jarl: a title of nobility in Norway, corresponding to that of\ncount; the English title, earl, is derived therefrom.\n\n[49] This eagle is the giant Thiasse, who took that form, in order to\nget Asa-Lok into his power, and compel him to carry off Iduna, the\nguardian of the apples of immortality, from Asagard.\n\n[50] _Alla lumaca_; so the Italians term that style of wreathing the\nhair.\n\n\nNOTES TO THE FOURTEENTH CANTO.\n\nSpecimen of the original.\n\n Som Vinden blaeser hen den lette Sky,\n Saa svinder hver Bedrift i Evigheden;\n Sen B\u00f6lge sank, een reiser sig paa ny,\n Og Kampen leger leflende med Freden;\n Snart blinke Svaerd, snart ruste de i Skeden.\n Hvad er det alt? Et flygtigt Gi\u00f6glem\u00f6de,\n En Sommerfugl, som parred sig--og d\u00f6de.\n\nI much wished to adopt, as a metre for the translation of this Canto,\nthe Spenserian stanza, but I found it too difficult. I therefore\nadopted a metre of my own invention, viz., a stanza of nine lines,\neight of which have ten syllables, and the ninth, which rhymes with the\nsixth and eighth, has twelve. The arrangement of the rhyme is regular\nthroughout, and it appears to me that this metre has something of the\nmarch and harmony of the Spenserian stanza.\n\n[51] In this stanza the poet means probably to convey the idea, that\nwhoever wishes to succeed in his profession, whatever it be, must aim\nat excellence and immortality.\n\n[52] Kattegat means _Passage of the Cat_, so called from its danger,\narising from the frequency of tempests. The poet begins here to trace\nthe calamities and deterioration caused to the world by the absence of\nIduna.\n\n[53] Yggdrassil; see this name in the Alphabetical Catalogue.\nYggdrassil, the mythological ash-tree, is called by the Scalds \u201cthe\n_tree of life_.\u201d There is a Christmas ceremony at this day in Germany,\nwherein an artificial tree, generally made of fir, bears on its\nbranches various little presents for children, for which they draw\nlots. May not this tree trace its origin from Yggdrassil, the tree of\nlife, which distributes to the human race their different lots?\n\nThe human race has often been compared by poets to a tree, and the\ngenerations of mankind to its leaves. Homer has,\n\n \u1f49\u03b9\u03b7 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03c6\u03c5\u03bb\u03bb\u1ff6\u03bd \u03b3\u03b5\u03bd\u03b5\u03b7 \u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03b7\u03b4\u03b5 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b1\u03bd\u03b4\u03c1\u1ff6\u03bd.\n\n[54] Odin\u2019s ravens; their names are _Hugin_ (thought), and _Munin_\n(memory). Finn Magnussen thus explains the mythe of the rape of Iduna\nby the giant Thiasse:\n\nIduna represents the mild air of spring, which gives renovated life and\nanimation to all nature. Thiasse represents winter, and the carrying\noff of Iduna typifies the disappearance of all genial warmth at the\napproach of winter; her deliverance from the prison of Thiasse denotes\nthe return of spring; Thiasse being burnt to death in the bale-fire of\nBreidablik, denotes the melting and disappearance of ice by the heat\nof the sun at the approach of summer. The rape and the deliverance of\nIduna are both effectuated through the agency of Asa-Lok, who typifies\ntime and its vacillating nature, now impelled to good, and now to evil.\n\n\nNOTES TO THE FIFTEENTH CANTO.\n\nSpecimen of the original.\n\n Da de h\u00f6je Valhals Guder\n Blomstred end i Oestens Land,\n Fiernt i Asien paa Bierget,\n Naer det ski\u00f6nne Ginistan:\n For de hid til Norden droge,\n Mod den kolde Klippeblok,\n Hvor de sloge\n Jetters Haer og Dvaerges Flok.\n\nThe metre I have adopted for my translation of this Canto is of my own\ninvention; it may be thought fantastic, but in its trochaic form it has\nsomething of the march of the original. I leave the first, third, and\nfifth line unrhymed, with a double close.\n\n[55] Vaner: see the article Vaner and Vanaheim in the Alphabetical\nCatalogue.\n\n[56] Ginnistan; by Ginnistan is probably meant Persia or Armenia. My\nfriend Dr. Constancio suggests to me, that the word may be derived from\nZend, the actual name of a tribe of Curds, and signifying in Persian\n_life_, _living_, and figuratively _vigorous_. The word Zend, with the\naddition of _stan_ (country, in Persian), comes very near the word\nGinnistan.\n\n[57] The circumstance of Niord being given as a hostage to the Asar\npleads in favour of the hypothesis I have already given, namely,\nthat Niord and his children Frey and Freya were Assyrian or Persian\ndivinities, adopted by the Asar, and incorporated in their religion.\nFrey, the son of Niord, typifies the sun at the winter solstice, and\nthe festivities of the new year in the pagan time were instituted to\ndo him honour. His father Niord presides over the winds and waves; but\nBalder also typifies the sun (at its highest elevation), and \u00c6gir is\nthe god of the sea. The fact is, that in the Scandinavian mythology\nthere are _two_ sun-gods and _two_ gods of the sea. The explanation of\nthis seeming incongruity is not difficult. Among the Asar, Balder was\nthe sun god, and \u00c6gir the god of the sea; but among the Vaner, Niord\nwas the god of the winds and waves, Frey typified the sun, and his\nsister Freya the moon. When the political alliance took place between\nthe Asar and the Vaner, the former adopted some of the divinities of\nthe latter, and in consequence of this amalgamation, Niord, Frey and\nFreya received suitable posts in the Gothic pantheon. It is remarkable,\nthat among the ancient Egyptians the sun was called Phr\u00e9. Among the\nGreeks, Bacchus often typified the sun, and by the Romans he was called\nLiber, which has exactly the same meaning as the word Frey, viz.\n_free_.\n\n[58] By Niord\u2019s drying up marshes and dispelling vapours may be meant\nthe salubrious effects of the north wind.\n\n[59] Odur; this description will remind the classical reader of Bacchus.\n\nIt seems to me that the appellation Goth was not known in Scandinavia\nprevious to the invasion of the Asar, and that these last assumed the\nname of Goths (good and brave men), when they introduced their religion\ninto that country. This idea leads me also to surmise, that as long\nas the Asar remained in Asia, the name Hrimthusser (frost-giant),\nand not Jetter or Jotun, was applied to the evil spirits of their\nmythology; and that it was not until after their grand immigration into\nScandinavia, under the command of the historical Odin, that the term\nJetter or Jotun (which was the national appellation of the aborigines\nof Scandinavia) was, in consequence of the long and bitter wars between\nthe Asar and Jetter, and of the national hatred arising therefrom,\napplied by the Asar to those malevolent spirits, who, as they supposed,\nassisted their enemies, the Jetter. The self-love of all nations leads\nthem to assume, that they are the favourites of the good gods, and\nthat the evil spirits are the abettors, instigators, and coadjutors of\ntheir enemies; and even in our time, as has been wittily remarked by\nWashington Irving, a number of the _good sort of people_ in England,\nduring the war against revolutionary France, thought that _somehow or\nother_ God Almighty was on the side of the English government. As a\nfurther confirmation of my conjecture that the word Goth was unknown to\nthe Scandinavian peninsula, until introduced there by the Asar, I cite\nthe following passage from a Saga, written in the Icelandic or ancient\nScandinavian tongue:\n\nEn dha voru dhessi l\u00f6nd er Asia menn bygdu k\u00f6llud Godl\u00f6nd, en f\u00f3lkid\nGodjod. Odin ok hans synir voru sl\u00f3rum vitrir ok fj\u00f6lkunnigir, fagrir\nat \u00e1litum, og sterkir \u00e1t afli. Margir adrir i dheirra \u00e6tt voru miklir\nafburdbarmenn, medh ymisligum algerleik, og nokkura af dheim t\u00f3ku menn\ntil at bl\u00f3ta og tr\u00faa \u00e1, ok k\u00f6lludhu godh sin.\n\n_Translated thus_:\n\nThen this land, which Asia\u2019s people took possession of, was called\nGodland, and the people Godjod. Odin and his sons were very wise and\nskilled in many things, fair in aspect, and strong limbed. Many of\ntheir race were men of great strength and of divers perfections, and\nthe people began to worship some of them, and call them their gods.\n\n\nNOTES TO THE SIXTEENTH CANTO.\n\nSpecimen of the metre.\n\n Mens Ydun var i\u0331 Faengsel, stod Valhal som en Grav,\n En frugtbar Oee var opslugt af baelm\u00f6rken Hav\n I Borgens \u00f6de Haller hver Gud sad i sin Vraa,\n Og som en Marmelst\u00f6tte sti\u0331vt hen for sig saae.\n\nThe metre I have adopted for the translation of this Canto is somewhat\nmore regular than that of the original: mine is in lines of thirteen\nsyllables each: a slight pause after the seventh syllable will give the\nrhythm required.\n\n[60] This Canto begins with a description of the fatal consequences\nof the absence of Iduna: all the pleasures of Valhalla are suspended.\nAccording to Finn Magnussen, the mythe of Skada\u2019s entry into Valhalla\nmay be thus interpreted: Skada here typifies the violent winds and\ncapricious temperature of the commencement of spring, which proceeds\nfrom winter, as Skada does from her father, the frost-giant Thiasse.\nThough she enters Valhalla with violent designs, she becomes pacified\nat the sight of Balder (the sun at the summer solstice). Thus doth\nspring, commencing with tempests, become appeased and calm, from the\nincreasing heat of the sun at the beginning of summer. The English\nreader will be here reminded of the old English proverb: \u201cSpring comes\nin like a lion, and goes out like a lamb.\u201d\n\n[61] Hildur\u2019s favourite sport; i.e. war. See this name in the Catalogue.\n\n[62] The story of the game of blind man\u2019s buff, called by the Northmen\n_blind cow_, in which Skada catches Niord, and is united to him in\nmarriage, is borrowed from the prosaic Edda. I can find no satisfactory\nsolution of this mythe; it may mean, however, that the spring weather,\nafter much shuffling and shifting about, settles down at last into a\nmild serenity and constancy (during summer). But the matrimonial bliss\nof Niord and his consort will not be of long duration. Towards the\nautumnal equinox, Skada\u2019s capricious temper will break out, she will\nbegin her mischievous pranks again, and set winds and waves by the ears\nas usual. Skada\u2019s catching Niord by the leg in the game of blind man\u2019s\nbuff, may mean the force of a tempest, which sometimes lifts men off\ntheir legs.\n\n\nNOTES TO THE SEVENTEENTH CANTO.\n\nSpecimen of the metre.\n\n Dybt udi Fieldehallen et Kammer blev han vaer;\n En deilig M\u00f6 han \u00f6ined paa Bolstrene, klar:\n I s\u00f6den S\u00f6vn hun slumred med stille Pigesind,\n Og Morgenr\u00f6den blomstred paa hendes Liliekind.\n\nIn my translation of this and of the two next Cantos, I have adopted,\nas a metre, the line of fourteen syllables.\n\n[63] That the Jotuns should appear to the Asar to be giants in size,\nand as having the heads of wolves, bears, etc., has been accounted for\nin my preface to this work, which I hope the reader will consult and\nbear in mind.\n\n[64] Of all the giant race, the Hrimthusser were reckoned the most\nferocious, rough, and uncouth. The names of Horseleg and Goatbeard\nare humourously given by the poet to two of them, whom he represents\nas testifying their admiration of Gerda in a clownish and indelicate\nmanner.\n\n[65] This change was the consequence of the return of Iduna to Valhalla.\n\n[66] In the original, _Blaamandsland_ (blue man\u2019s land): so Africa was\ncalled by the Scandinavians.\n\n\nNOTES TO THE EIGHTEENTH CANTO.\n\nSpecimen of the metre.\n\n Da ilte dem im\u00f6de Freiers gode Skosvend,\n Vel Skirnir man ham naevner. Nu er hun her igien,\n Til Guderne han raabte, da han dem kunde see,\n Nu Ydun er i Valhal: endt er nu Asernes Vee!\n\nThe nature and attributes of all the gods and goddesses seated at the\nbanquet of Valhalla, are so fully detailed in the text, that notes to\nthis Canto are almost superfluous.\n\n[67] Alludes to Skirnir\u2019s name, derived from _skirna_ (to clear up, to\nbrighten).\n\n[68] Frey is sometimes called Freyr.\n\n[69] By this the poet means, no doubt, that the pearl and coral divers,\nfrom their being accustomed to remain for a long time under water, are\nless liable to be drowned than other people.\n\n[70] By Ervin\u2019s minster is meant the steeple of the cathedral of\nStrasburgh, built by Ervin of Steinbach.\n\n[71] The nature of the message given by Odin to Hermod has been already\nrelated in the 15th Canto.\n\n\nNOTES TO THE NINETEENTH CANTO.\n\nSpecimen of the metre.\n\n Fra Valaskialf gik Odin nu i den naeste Hal;\n Der vented ham Einheriar, de stod i tusindtal:\n Syn, den gode Vogterske, vidt aabned Portens Fl\u00f6i\u0331,\n Da traadte mellem Kaemper Odin den Herre saa h\u00f6i.\n\n[72] Starkodder was the greatest warrior of his time, and was deified\nafter his death. His name was ever in the greatest veneration among the\nScandinavians. Though he killed Oluf, he repented it ever afterwards,\nand in this poem the poet puts into Oluf\u2019s mouth the generous\nsentiment, that Starkodder, in killing him and making him die in blood,\nhad perhaps saved him from dying by old age or sickness; in which case,\ninstead of being in Valhalla, he would have risked falling into the\nhands of Hela. According to the author of this work, \u0152hlenschl\u00e4ger (who\nhas made Starkodder the subject of a most interesting tragedy), Oluf\u2019s\ndeath was revenged by his son Frode Fr\u00e6kne, who clove Starkodder\u2019s\nscull in single combat. In the above tragedy Frode, after killing\nStarkodder, renders ample justice to his military talent and exploits,\nand anticipates, in the following manner, his reception among the\nheroes of Valhalla:\n\n \u201cNow he\u2019s a god! at the command of Thor\n Five hundred forty massive gates of Trudvang,\n Each broad and long, and made of bronze, ope wide\n With fearful clang; in brilliant armour clad\n Five hundred forty heroes from each gate\n Rush forth to meet him, and with loud applause\n Thus do they greet the chief: All hail! Starkodder!\n Thou greatest after Tyr and Asa-Thor!\u201d\n\n[73] The purport of this message is explained in the twenty-first\nCanto. It was to obtain from the dwarfs a magic chain, wherewith to\nbind Fenris.\n\n[74] This butting match between Asa-Lok and one of Thor\u2019s goats was no\ndoubt suggested to the poet (for there is no account of it in either\nEdda) by the painting or mosaic found in Herculaneum, I believe, or\nin Pompeii, and which has been made the subject of many a bas-relief,\nmedallion, or cameo: viz. a satyr butting against a goat. To\n\u0152hlenschl\u00e4ger may well be applied the line of Haley respecting Ariosto:\n\n \u201cThe bard of pathos now, and now of mirth!\u201d\n\n\nNOTES TO THE TWENTIETH CANTO.\n\nSpecimen of the metre.\n\n Da Asaskokke\n I taette Flokke\n Fra Oesten rede,\n Med Svaerd af Skede, etc.\n\nI have chosen the octosyllabic couplet for my translation.\n\nThe mythologic formation of the island of Sealand (of which Copenhagen\nis the present capital), and which forms the subject of this Canto, is\nthus given in the poetic Edda:\n\n \u201cGladly drew Gefion\n From the powerful Gyllfe\n Denmark\u2019s annexation,\n So that it smoked after the springing oxen.\n Four heads and eight eyes\n Had the oxen, who drew\n The piece of earth after them,\n To form the favourite island.\u201d\n\n[75] The etymology of Sealand, called formerly and more properly\nS\u0153lund, is from the Danish words _s\u0153_ (sea) and _lund_ (grove).\n\n[76] \u0152resund is the appellation for what other nations call the _Sound_\npar excellence; for _sund_ means a channel or strait.\n\n\nNOTES TO THE TWENTY-FIRST CANTO.\n\nIn the original, this Canto is written in the classic hexameter, which\nseems to suit wonderfully well the Danish and Swedish languages.\n\nSpecimen of the metre.\n\n Men da Maane bag Field var flygtet, haeftig forfulgt af\n Maanegarm, den bevingede Trold, som stedse den aengster,\n Meest usynlig for Menneskers Bli\u0331k, dog stundum i Regnsky\n Synlig som Ulv, naar i Dunsterne brun han viser sit Hoved.\n\nI have given my translation in the ten syllabled heroic couplet.\n\n[77] Horseleg and Goatbeard; names of the two giants mentioned in the\n17th Canto as having behaved rudely to Gerda.\n\n[78] Quaser in the Icelandic language signifies _breath or\ninspiration_. The story of Quaser is probably an oriental one of some\npoet, who was murdered by those who were jealous of his talents, and\nwere _dwarfs in genius_ compared to him.\n\n[79] The story of the stone, which Odin casts among the giants to\nincite them to discord, resembles much a circumstance mentioned in\nthe poem of Apollonius of Rhodes, called \u201cThe Argonauts\u201d in the 3d\nCanto. \u201cBut the giants, springing from the furrows which he had traced,\ncovered with their arms the field he had ploughed. Jason, returning,\nrushes toward them, and throws amongst them an enormous stone; many are\ncrushed by it; others, disputing for its possession, slay one another.\u201d\nIn fact, the amour of Odin with Gunliod has some sort of resemblance in\nthe beginning to that of Jason and Medea.\n\n\nNOTES TO THE TWENTY-SECOND CANTO.\n\nSpecimen of the metre.\n\n Du Ungersvend, som sukker taus med blegen Ki\u0331nd,\n Fordi ei Freya signer di\u0331t Bryst,\n Fordi du ei kan b\u00f6i\u0331e stolten Piges Si\u0331nd, etc.\n\nIn stanzas of eight lines.\n\nIn my translation I have adopted the _ottava rima_.\n\n[80] Freya\u2019s grief for the loss of Odur is related in the 15th Canto.\nFreya is often termed by the Scalds the \u201cgoddess of the golden tear.\u201d\n\n\nNOTES TO THE TWENTY-THIRD CANTO.\n\nSpecimen of the metre.\n\n Nu i\u0331lte Ski\u0331rnir, hvad han kunde,\n Ned ad den ski\u0331\u00f6nne Regnbuerand,\n Hen over Jordens dunkle Lunde,\n Da kom han til Troldkaemveland.\n Det var som Vinden, Vei\u0331en over:\n Den i\u0331ngen Bom kan byde St\u00f6v;\n Det var som Blaest paa Havets Vover,\n Der kruser B\u00f6lgens sorte Top.\n\nIn the metre I have adopted for this Canto, I have introduced\noccasionally anapests, for the sake of greater variety.\n\nIn this Canto the poet has diverged considerably from either Edda, and\nhas boldly and felicitously sketched a plan of his own, into which,\nhowever, he has interwoven ideas taken from three different Cantos of\nthe poetic Edda: viz _Harbard\u2019s song_; _Alvismal_ (discourse of Alvis);\n_Skirnisfor_ (journey of Skirnir). In the first, Harbard\u2019s song, it is\nThor, and not Skirnir, who enters into a dialogue with Harbard, whom he\nmeets at the fiord. In the second, Alvismal, the subject of the Canto\nis a dialogue between Thor and the dwarf Alvis (all-wise), wherein the\nlatter makes a pompous display of his learning, by giving definitions\nand synonymes of _earth_, _heaven_, _wind_, _fire_, nearly in the\nsame manner that Skirnir does in this Canto. In the third, Skirnir\u2019s\njourney, wherein Skirnir is sent by Frey to propose marriage to Gerda,\nare mentioned the ferocious dogs which guard the dwelling of giant\nGymer, the father of Gerda.\n\n[81] Fiord means a creek or arm of the sea running inland; on the coast\nof Norway the fiords run for a very considerable distance inland; and\nthus flowing from the sea at the high tide form a contrast with the\ncourse of the rivers.\n\n[82] The word _shoeless foot_, in the original _n\u0153gne Fod_, seems\nborrowed from the speech of Harbard to Thor, in Harbard\u2019s song in the\npoetic Edda, wherein he says,\n\n Thou dost not look, as if thou\n Three domains possess\u2019d;\n [A]Bare legged thou standest\n In beggar\u2019s apparel.\n\n[A] Probably because Thor had taken off his shoes, in order to ford the\nstream.\n\n[83] The remarks on the females of the Jotun race seem likewise\nborrowed from the same chapter in the poetic Edda:\n\n We had sprightly women,\n Were they but gentle;\n We had clever women,\n Were they but fond of us.\n\n[84] _Drypsal_ means _Drippinghall_.\n\n[85] _Oppheim_ means _abode above_.\n\n[86] The original has _Svalhjelm_ (cool helmet), and means a covering\nto protect the head against the rays of the sun; I have therefore\nchosen the word _umbrella_ as the most appropriate expression.\n\n[87] Alludes to the difference between a fiord and a river.\n\n[88] With respect to Gestur and his riddles, they are not to be found\nin the Edda; but the poet has borrowed the idea from the Hervara Saga,\nwherein king Heidrek, who had a great talent for divining riddles and\nenigmas, had a great many proposed to him by Odin, under the disguise\nof the blind Gestur.\n\nExtract from the Hervara Saga in the original Icelandic, with a literal\ntranslation.\n\n Heiman \u00e9k f\u00f3r, From home I went,\n Heiman \u00e9k ferdadist; From home I travelled,\n S\u00e1 \u00e9k \u00e1 veg vega: Saw I on way ways:\n Vegr var undir; The way was under,\n Vegr var yfir, The way was over,\n Ok ver g\u00e1 alla: And the way over all;\n Heidrekr kongr! Heidrek king!\n Hyggtu at gatu? Guessest thou the riddle?\n\n G\u00f3d er g\u00e1ta dhin, Good is riddle thine,\n Gestr blindi! Gestur blind!\n G\u00e9tit er dheirrar: Guessed is it:\n Fugl dhar yfir fl\u00f3; Bird there over flew;\n Fiskr dhar undir svam Fish there under swam\n F\u00f3rtu \u00e1 br\u00fa. Thyself went on bridge.\n\n\nNOTES TO THE TWENTY-FOURTH CANTO.\n\nThis Canto in the original is written in the classic hexameter.\n\nSpecimen.\n\n Da nu Skirni\u0331r blev vaer den ovladts\u00f6lverne Laage,\n Hvor med kulsort Glands ham en Broes glatdannede Steenkul\n Veien viste; da gik han derind; og brat han befandt sig\n Atter i fri Luft. Himlen var blaa med utallige Stierner, etc.\n\nI have chosen for my translation our heroic couplet.\n\n[89] The poet, in this line, alludes no doubt to the unclean food often\nused by the inhabitants of Finmark.\n\n[90] This part of Gerda\u2019s speech reminds me of the discourse of the\nbeautiful Marcela, in the XIV chapter, 2d book, part 1st of Don Quixote.\n\nIn this Canto the poet has diverged considerably from the chapter\nin the poetic Edda, called the Skirnisfor, which treats of the same\nsubject. In \u0152hlenschl\u00e4ger\u2019s poem, as has been seen, Skirnir makes use\nof the most gentle and insinuating means of persuasion to induce Gerda\nto give ear to his proposal; and the stratagem of Frey\u2019s likeness\nconveyed from the brook into Gerda\u2019s basin is entirely the poet\u2019s own\n_concetto_, and it is, I think, a very ingenious one: whereas, in the\nEdda, Skirnir makes use of the most terrible threats and sinister\npredictions, in order to force Gerda to accede to his master\u2019s wishes;\nand at length he succeeds in terrifying her into submission: among\nother threats, which are not of the most decent nature, he tells her\nthat she shall either be wedded to a frightful three-headed Goblin of\nthe Hrimthussar race, or pine a maid, tormented with the most violent\ndesires, which cannot be gratified.\n\n\nNOTE TO THE TWENTY-FIFTH CANTO.\n\nIn the original, the metre of this Canto is written in imitation of one\nmuch used in the ancient Danish ballads, which, admitting a _refrain_\nthat seems to have little or no connection with the substance of the\nballad, continue it in every stanza throughout the piece. Here are\n_three different refrains_ used in succession throughout the whole\nCanto, except in the two last stanzas.\n\nSpecimen.\n\n Da Skirnir vaagned i naeste Gry,\n (Solstraalen i Skyen sig bader)\n Da stod med Venlighed ved hans Ly\n Biergtrolden i\u0331 Pandserplader.\n\n Som Guldbrandsd\u00f6len saa staerk og lang\n (De Fugle quiddre paa Grene)\n I Haanden bar han en sortbraendt Stang,\n Dog stod han der ei allene.\n\n Ham fulgte trolig den Datter huld;\n (Dugdraaben glindser paa Blommen)\n Som Ranken omslynger den runkne Bul,\n Hun var med Faderen kommen.\n\n Et Baeger hun ind for Guden bar,\n (Solstraalen i Skyen sig bader), etc.\n\nI have followed exactly the same plan in my translation.\n\n\nNOTE TO THE TWENTY-SIXTH CANTO.\n\nThis Canto in the original is written in the octosyllabic couplet. I\nhave adopted the same metre for the translation.\n\nSpecimen of the metre.\n\n Nu blev der Fryd i Valhals Gaard\n I fine Vadmel, bl\u00f6de Maar,\n Den ski\u00f6nne Bi\u0331ergets Pige foer\n Fra Fieldet og fra gr\u00f6nnen Jord.\n Ad Bifrost drog den unge Brud,\n I Luften liig, et Sti\u0331erneskud.\n\n[91] Gefion\u2019s strand is the island of Sealand.\n\n\nNOTES TO THE TWENTY-SEVENTH CANTO.\n\nSpecimen of the metre in the original.\n\n I have\u1e6f stander Oeen;\n Nu Hlesen kun er liden,\n Thi B\u00f6lgerne med Ti\u0331den\n Har pl\u00f6ie\u1e6f den i\u0331 S\u00f6en;\n Men stor i Oldti\u0331ds Dage\n Den knei\u0331sed h\u00f6i\u0331 og brat,\n Og \u1e6frodsed Nordens Drage,\n De\u1e6f sor\u1e6fe Ka\u1e6f\u1e6fega\u1e6f.\n\nThe subject of this Canto is taken from the celebrated chapter in the\npoetic Edda, called \u201c\u00c6gir\u2019s feast\u201d or \u201cLok\u2019s scurrility,\u201d to account\nfor the origin, object and meaning of which, has puzzled all the\ncommentators of the Edda. The most simple _\u00e9claircissement_ thereof\nseems to be that of Finn Magnussen, who thinks that the author of it\nmay have been a sort of Scandinavian Lucian, who wished to throw a\nsly ridicule on the gods of his country. \u0152hlenschl\u00e4ger has varied,\naugmented, and embellished the subject with imagery and embroidery of\nhis own, and has omitted certain parts of somewhat too obscene a nature.\n\n[92] Skidbladner, name of the bark given by Gerda to Frey. The\nfollowing is probably the explanation of this mythe. Frey signifies\nthe sun; Gerda, the earth. Skidbladner signifies the clouds or vapours\nextracted from the earth by the rays of the sun. See Skidbladner in the\nAlphabetical Catalogue.\n\n[93] Hringhorn; name of Balder\u2019s bark. The language of the ancient\nScandinavians was highly poetical and metaphorical. A ship was often\ncompared to an animal, and its masts to the horns of the said animal;\nthe masts were made fast with iron rings round their circumference,\nand this I take to be the surest etymology of the word Hringhorn or\nRinghorn. The ships of the Vikings were long and deep, and had usually\nbut one mast.\n\n[94] _Naglefare_: See the Catalogue.\n\n[95] It seems to me as if the author has taken this idea from the\naccount given in Cook\u2019s voyages of the women of Otaheite swimming off\nfrom the shore to the ship, to look out for lovers among the sailors.\n\n[96] I here acknowledge a plagiarism from Dryden, in his quaint\ntranslation of the _Novimus et qui te_ in the Third Bucolic of Virgil.\n\n[97] Alludes to Thor and his companions\u2019 adventure related in the\nSecond Canto.\n\n\nNOTES TO THE TWENTY-EIGHTH CANTO.\n\nThe metre in the original is in couplets as follows:\n\n Hen Loke fl\u00f6d i Havet, som Orm, sli\u0331me\u1e6f blaa,\n Alle de faele Syner han klart paa Dybe\u1e6f saae.\n Han strakte sig med Angest, han bug\u1e6fed sig med Iil.\n Paa Kysten fulgte Bonden med Oei\u0331et ham en Mi\u0331i\u0331l.\n\nThe metre I have adopted for the translation of this Canto is the\ncouplet of lines of fourteen syllables occasionally interspersed with\ncouplets of thirteen syllables. In reading the latter, a pause should\nbe made after the seventh syllable. This metre resembles that of the\noriginal, and has much of its prosaic and familiar march. This Canto\nand the next are based on the chapter of the poetic Edda, called\nThrymsqvida.\n\n[98] King Hro founded the town of Roeskild, situate where Leire once\nstood. Roeskild is about twenty-five English miles distant W. from\nCopenhagen, and has a magnificent cathedral, which is the cemetery of\nthe Danish kings.\n\n[99] Kongebo, means royal residence or palace.\n\n[100] _Giants\u2019 bane_, in Icelandic _J\u00f3tun bani_, name given by the\nScalds to Thor, on account of his constant enmity towards the giants.\n\n\nNOTES TO THE TWENTY-NINTH CANTO.\n\nSpecimen of the metre in the original.\n\n Ru Asa\u1e6fhor\n Med Loke foer\n Paa Gyldenkarm\n Ti\u0331l Fieldets S\u1e6feen;\n Og Loke sad\n I Hier\u1e6fe\u1e6f glad\n Ved Gudens Harm,\n Ti\u0331l Je\u1e6f\u1e6fers Meen.\n\n Saa reiste de frem medens Klippen skialv,\n Med en gabende Kl\u00f6f\u1e6f Steenbierget sprak,\n Og den Hnle saa sort kun aabned sig halv,\n Og en Lue med Gni\u0331st gi\u0331ennem Mulme\u1e6f trak.\n\nI have adopted for the translation of this Canto a metre, alternatively\ntrochaic and anapestic.\n\n[101] It was the custom, at the marriage ceremony of the ancient\nScandinavians in the pagan time, for the betrothed to swear fidelity to\neach other, in touching the hammer of Thor. May not this account for\nthe ceremony of marriage at Gretna-green being always performed by a\nblacksmith? The lowland Scots are of Scandinavian origin, and they have\npreserved many a custom and many a superstition of their ancestors.\n\n[102] Respecting Hrugner and Mokkurcalf, please to consult the\nAlphabetical Catalogue.\n\nThe following explanation of the foregoing mythe is given by the\nSwedish poet Ling:\n\nThe loss of Thor\u2019s hammer, and its remaining _eight miles_ under ground\nin the hands of Thrymur the frost giant, denotes the impotence or\ninactivity of the _electrical fluid_ during the eight months\u2019 winter of\nthe northern regions. The invitation of Thrymur to Freya typifies the\nstruggle of nature at the approach of spring, to renew its vitality.\n\nStuhr\u2019s opinion of this mythe is much the same as that of Ling. He\nthinks it to be a hymn in honour of spring, typified by Freya. Thor\nborrows Freya\u2019s attire, i.e. in spring the electrical heat resumes\nits force. Thor travels with Loptur (the air) to Thrymur. They are\nfurnished with a copious repast; i.e. at the approach of and by\nthe influence of spring, the unfruitfulness of the earth ceases.\nWhen Asa-Lok speaks of the _eight nights_ of longing passed by the\npretended Freya, it means the progressive changes undergone by the\npolar atmosphere during the eight winter months, before the heat\nfinally obtains the mastery. The immense appetite and quantity of mead\ndrank by Thor denote the absorption of the earth\u2019s vapours by the\nelectrical fire of summer, and the death of Thrymur denotes the total\ndisappearance of winter. It is scarcely necessary to remind the reader,\nthat Mi\u00f6lner, the hammer of Thor, typifies, almost everywhere, thunder,\nor the electrical fire and its effects.\n\nIn the Greek poem of Nonnus, called the Dionysiacs, or Actions of\nBacchus, we find a mythe having no doubt the same signification as\nthat of the Thrymsqvida. Jupiter at the approach of winter loses\nhis thunderbolts, which fall into the hands of the giant Typhon. He\nrecovers them in spring, by means of a stratagem of Cadmus, and soon\nafter makes use of them to discomfit and slay the giant Typhon.\n\n\nNOTE TO THE THIRTIETH CANTO.\n\nIn the original this Canto is written in _terza rima_ as follows.\n\n Da Thor nu sti\u0331lle sad, og endt var Kampen,\n Da steeg en langsom R\u00f6g af Je\u1e6f\u1e6feblode\u1e6f,\n Og hvid og tyk opl\u00f6ftede sig Dampen.\n\n Da ski\u0331aelved Loke brat og tabte Mode\u1e6f, etc.\n\nBesides the difficulty of the _terza rima_, it is a metre not very well\nsuited to the genius of the English language. I have, therefore, given\nmy translation of this Canto in blank verse, following the example of\nCarey in his version of Dante.\n\nThe subject of this Canto seems taken partly from some strophes in the\nVolusp\u00e2, and partly from the Vaftrudnismal, which are the names of two\nof the most important chapters of the poetic Edda.\n\n[103] Gugner, name of Odin\u2019s lance.\n\nThis Canto does not require notes, but as it may amuse the reader\nto compare the history of the destruction and reproduction of the\nworld with the account thereof given in the Edda, I here subjoin\nsome extracts from the two chapters above mentioned, following\nFinn Magnussen\u2019s translation. I think the reader will remark some\nresemblance between certain parts of this Canto and certain parts of\nthe Apocalypse. The battle between Thor and the Serpent Jormundgard\nis not unlike the combat between the Archangel Michael and the great\ndragon; and the palace of Gimle, the future abode of the blessed,\npresents an image of the new Jerusalem.\n\n\nEXTRACTS FROM THE VAFTRUDNISMAL\n\n(DISCOURSE OF VAFTRUDNER).\n\n The wolf (Fenris) shall swallow up\n The father of time (Odin);\n But Vidar shall avenge him,\n And tear the monster\u2019s jaws asunder.\n\n \u2026\n\n A daughter shall be born\n Of the old sun,[104]\n Before Fenris swallows her up:\n After the fall of the gods\n The daughter shall travel\n On the same course as her mother did.\n\n \u2026\n\n Lif and Liftrasir\n Remain conceal\u2019d in the wood (Hoddmimer);\n They are nourished by the morning dew,\n And from them the new race shall spring.\n\n \u2026\n\n When the fire (of Surtur) shall be extinguish\u2019d,\n Vidar shall construct anew\n The dwellings of the gods.\n\n \u2026\n\n Then finally shall peace\n Succeed to the long strife.\n\n[104] The sun is feminine in the Gothic languages.\n\n\nEXTRACTS FROM THE VOLUSPA\n\n(VALA\u2019S PROPHECY).\n\n Loud howls the monster (the dog Garm)\n At the cavern of Gnypa;\n The wolf (Fenris) shall break his chain.\n\n \u2026\n\n Brother shall fight with brother\n And slay each other:\n The bonds of affection and parentage\n Shall be rent asunder:\n Evil reigns in the world;\n Libidinous excess triumphs;\n The sword, the axe\n Shall be in constant employ:\n Shields shall be cloven;\n Times of tempest, of wolfish ferocity,\n Before the world finally ends;\n No man shall spare his neighbour.\n\n \u2026\n\n Naglefar moves forward\n With keel gliding from the East;\n Lok steers it.\n\n \u2026\n\n Surtur compelling flames\n Advances from the south!\n\n \u2026\n\n The earth sinks into the deep!\n\n The stars disappear from heaven!\n\n Volumes of fire and smoke\n Consume the all-nourishing tree (Yggdrassil)\n Flames mounting on high\n Consume heaven itself.\n\n \u2026\n\n And behold arises a second time\n The earth from the sea!\n\n \u2026\n\n The Asar shall meet again\n On the plains of Ida;\n There shall again\n Wonderful tablets of gold\n Be found in the grass.\n\n \u2026\n\n Fields unsown\n Shall produce corn;\n All evil vanish;\n Balder return;\n He and H\u0153dur shall dwell\n In Odin\u2019s holy abode.\n\n \u2026\n\n A palace is seen\n Brighter than the sun\n Roof\u2019d with gold\n Standing on Gimle!\n Therein shall dwell\n Virtuous people,\n And enjoy happiness\n For ever and ever!\n\n\nETYMOLOGIES OMITTED IN THE CATALOGUE.\n\nLok from _locka_ (to tempt).\n\nHofvarpur, name of the steed of Gna, from _hof_ (hoof), _hvarpa_ (to\nthrow out).\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n Canto. Page.\n\n 1 Thor sets out on an adventure with Lok 1\n\n 2 Spells upon the heath 16\n\n 3 Thor arrives in Helheim 35\n\n 4 Thor arrives in Utgard 45\n\n 5 Magic spells in Utgard 57\n\n 6 The spells unravelled 81\n\n 7 The return home 92\n\n 8 Thor visits the giant Hymir 102\n\n 9 Thor\u2019s fishing adventure 117\n\n 10 Lok becomes enamoured of Sif 122\n\n 11 Conversation between Lok and Sif 128\n\n 12 Lok procures things of value from the dwarfs 138\n\n 13 The rape of Iduna 147\n\n 14 The deliverance of Iduna 166\n\n 15 The Vaner 180\n\n 16 The nuptials of Skada 190\n\n 17 The amour of Frey 196\n\n 18 Joy in Valhalla 204\n\n 19 The Einherier 213\n\n 20 Bragur\u2019s song in honour of Gefion 221\n\n 21 Conversation between Skirnir and Frey 227\n\n 22 Frey\u2019s plaint at the fountain 242\n\n 23 The journey of Skirnir 244\n\n 24 Gerda\u2019s love 262\n\n 25 Skirnir fulfills his errand 273\n\n 26 The wolf Fenris and Tyr 279\n\n 27 The banquet of \u00c6gir 289\n\n 28 Lok\u2019s treachery 313\n\n 29 The hammer of Thor recovered 330\n\n 30 The Vala\u2019s prophecy 341\n\n\n\n\nThe reader, before he begins the work, is respectfully requested to\ncorrect the following\n\nERRATA.\n\n\nTRANSCRIBER\u2019S NOTE: the errata have been corrected in this e-text.\n\n Page. Line.\n\n XXXVIII 4 _from bottom, for_ he _read_ the.\n XLVI 12 _from top, for_ threwherself _read_ threw herself.\n LXIII 12 _from top, for_ incolour _read_ in colour.\n 25 4 _from top, for_ hem _read_ them.\n 36 5 _from top, for_ t oads _read_ toads.\n 110 2 _from top, for_ ofthe _read_ of the.\n 129 4 _from bottom, for_ careerpursues _read_ career pursues.\n 142 11 _from top, for_ owesubmission _read_ owe submission.\n 194 5 _from bottom, for_ ts _read_ Its.\n 206 6 _from bottom, after_ bloom _insert_ all.\n 259 11 _from top, for_ while _read_ white.\n 326 2 _from bottom, for_ At housand _read_ A thousand.","title":"The Gods of the North: an epic poem","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":86433}