Opinion of the Swedish poet Ling respecting Valhalla.

Valhalla is the type of heroic renown. In all ages and among all people, cowards have been held in abhorrence; for without courage, strength of soul and firm will, nothing noble can be effectuated. He who exposes his own life to save another’s, he who year after year endures captivity with fortitude in order to enforce the truth of his principles, or meets death with courage, in order to save another from that fate, acquires now as formerly our admiration and esteem. He was called by our forefathers Valhalla’s guest; and on that account Ragnar Lodbrook and Gunnar entertained the hope, while expiring under the fangs of serpents, to be received in Valhalla, because they bore their sufferings with resignation, equally with those heroes who had fallen in battle. But at Ragnarok Valhalla itself will disappear; i.e. heroic renown appertains merely to this earthly life, and with it must finally pass away. Goodness alone lives eternally on the peaceable ever-green island which rises from the sea, and on which stands the palace of Gimle.

I here annex a translation I made of a chorus in the tragedy of Sigurd Ring, by the Swedish poet Stagnelius, as it gives a lively picture of the Valkyrior and of their occupations on the field of battle and in Valhalla.

Aye! such is the Norna’s immutable doom!
On the earth ever discord shall rage!
But a banquet eternal in Asagard’s dome,
All sense of past sufferings assuage:
See her fiery-maned steed the Valkyrie bestride
Towards Valhall fresh hosts of Einherier to guide!
O’er the heath, where the warriors in battle array
Stand glitt’ring in armour, she flies;
To death first she dooms them, then bears off her prey
To partake of the bliss of the skies;
Not a thought doth the haughty one deign to bestow
On the tear of the bride, on the mother’s deep woe.
Now thickens the combat! now onward they dash
At the bugle’s sound savage and shrill!
Bows twang! arrows whiz! lances shiver! glaives clash!
Unyielding each host struggles still!
Now blood runs in torrents adown the green mead,
And the rivers are choked with the limbs of the dead!
On rides the Valkyrie; she knows where to chuse
The bravest midst thousands of slain;
She dismounts; bids them rise; then her course she pursues,
Till she reaches the Asar’s domain;
With pride she parades them still reeking with gore,
Still scarr’d with deep gashes, great Odin before.
Her armour now doffing, at Valfader’s feast,
Crowned with roses, in purple array’d,
The Valkyrie shines, and presents to each guest
The goblet high brimming with mead;
The heroes her graces bewitching behold,
And Bragur entranced strikes the harp-strings of gold.

With respect to the proper names, it may be asked why there is sometimes a variation in the manner of spelling them; why, for instance, Frey should sometimes be called Freyr; Niord, Niordur; Heimdal, Heimdaller; Jormundgard, Jormundgardur. The explanation thereof must be traced to the Icelandic language itself. In one of the declensions many of the masculine nouns, and almost all the proper names masculine, take er, ur and r as terminations of the nominative case which are omitted in the other cases; and the Danish, Swedish and German translators of the Edda have adopted the names indifferently without assigning any reason.

THE GODS OF THE NORTH.
ARGUMENT OF THE POEM.

The Asar (Gods), and the Jetter (Giants), represent the two conflicting powers of nature; the former represent the creative embellishing power; the latter the defacing destructive one. Lok[12] vacillates between both, as the variable spirit of time. He proposes to Thor to travel to Jotunheim (abode of the giants), without the knowledge of Odin, in order to punish the arrogance of the giants. Thor is mystified in the subterranean world, and obliged to return unsuccessful; but he makes two young people happy, and elevates them to the rank of gods, because they left their home and parents, and confided themselves implicitly to him. He again forms the resolution of revenging himself on the giants for their presumption, and endeavours to catch the serpent of Midgard. He travels this time with the consent of Odin, and without Lok. Now he shows himself in the plenitude of his power, and is on the point of catching the Serpent, when it is saved by the giant Hymir. In his disappointment, Thor loses his hammer Miölner.

In the mean while Lok pays court to Sif, the wife of Thor, but meets with a contemptuous repulse; to revenge himself, he cuts off her hair while she is asleep. Compelled by Thor and Frey, he procures from the Dvergar (dwarfs), new hair for Sif spun from gold, a new hammer for Thor, the steed Gyllinbörste for Frey, and the ring Drupner for Odin.

Now it happens shortly after, that Lok sets out on an adventure with Odin and Hœnir; but he is caught by the giant Thiasse, who compels him to carry off Iduna from Valhalla, which he willingly undertakes, in order to mortify the gods. With Iduna vanish health, strength, beauty and youth from Valhalla; the gods lose their power. The Nornor (fates), being consulted, announce to them, that “bravery with the help of love shall compel time to fidelity, and blooming life again return to Valhalla.” Now Thor compels Lok to bring back Iduna, and Freya lends to him her falcon’s wings for that purpose. During Iduna’s absence, Freya has lost her husband Odur, who deserted her, because her youth and beauty had vanished. Skada forces her way into Valhalla, and obtains Niord for a husband. Frey, having nothing to do, ascends to Hlidskialf, which is now no longer brilliant, and where hitherto none but Odin dared to repair. He finds himself punished for his temerity by beholding a beautiful mountain-damsel (a rare exception), of whom he becomes violently enamoured. Now Iduna returns to Valhalla, and with her return health, youth and beauty to the gods. The gods are described; the joys of Valhalla; the palaces of heaven; the Einherier. Starkodder arrives in Valhalla, and is raised to the rank of a god. Bragur sings a song in honour of Gefion. The love of Frey for Gerda brings to pass a reconciliation between the gods and giants. Skirnir, Frey’s messenger, consoles his master, by reminding him of Odin’s own amours. He travels on his master’s account to the abode of the beloved damsel, overcomes all difficulties, solves the riddles of the giants, shows to Gerda the portrait of Frey, and softens her heart. Her father gives his consent, on condition that Frey shall cede to him his sword. During his travels, Skirnir has likewise procured for Odin a chain, wherewith to bind the wolf Fenris. On the marriage day of Gerda, the wolf is bound, but Tyr loses his hand. In this manner the operative influence of the giants on the gods is made manifest. The rash Tyr defies the brave Thor; Thor becomes angry, revenges himself on the innocent human race, and repents his anger. The marriage of Gerda is celebrated a second time at the palace of Ægir, god of the sea. There Lok, enraged at the captivity of Fenris, and his own expulsion from the banquet, endeavours to spoil the joy of the meeting, insults the gods, and is compelled to fly. Banished, and weary of wandering about, he again earnestly desires to visit Valhalla, and promises, in order to atone for his effrontery, to procure for Thor the true hammer Miölner from the giant-king Thrymur. Thrymur consents to restore the hammer, but only on condition of Freya becoming his bride. Lok brings this message to Valhalla, after the Alfer had procured for him his pardon from the Asar. Vexed at the contempt of Thor, and seeing the possibility of doing a treacherous action, he gives way to the temptation, and through the means of Heimdal persuades the Asar to a stratagem; so that Thor, dressed as Freya, goes down into Utgard. When Thor is in Utgard, and the hammer Miölner is placed in his lap, he revenges himself by slaying all the giants, except the old ones and the children, who remain concealed in the deepest recesses of the mountain with Utgard-Lok. Then arises from the vapour of the blood a remarkably tall female figure, sent by Alfader. She prophecies the fall of Valhalla, the death of Balder, the torments of Lok, the approaching destruction of the universe, and the punishment of the gods for their deceit; which is, that their existence shall for a time pass away, and the whole creation perish by fire. After this, she consoles them with the assurance of a future life, where innocence and bliss are to reign eternally.

[12] Asa-Lok.

THE GODS OF THE NORTH.

For all proper names, the reader is requested to consult the Alphabetical List preceding this poem. The notes to which the figures refer, are to be found at the end of the poem.

CANTO I.
THOR SETS OUT ON AN ADVENTURE WITH LOK.

A story wonderful to hear
Recorded stands in ancient runes;
Now to my golden harp give ear,
And ponder well its mystic tunes!
The strange events, which yet remain
Unravell’d of the Asar bright,
Be mine the glory to explain,
And all their actions bring to light.
Th’ eternal wars, the deadly hate
Between the Gods and Giant race;
Of Asa-Lok the guile innate;
Alfader’s wisdom; Freya’s grace;
The Berserk fights of Thor the bold;
The joys of Valhall, dome sublime:
All these I sing: come, young and old!
And listen to my varied rhyme!
Thus sang in days of yore a Scald,
And I from him repeat the song:
A land there is, Trudvanger call’d,
Where frowns a castle huge and strong:
This building boasts its massive walls,
And many a spacious colonnade;
Its forty and five hundred halls
With silver or with gold inlaid.
How many forests, lakes and fields
On every side this pile surround!
The roof is tiled with copper shields,
Which shed a dazzling lustre round.
Therein the mighty Asa dwells,
Whom mortals term the god of war;
Odin excepted, he excels
All other gods: his name is Thor.
Around his waist a belt he wears,
And gloves of steel his hands protect;
Miölner, a hammer vast, he bears,
When in the fight he stands erect.
That belt a tenfold power doth give,
When round his loins he girds it tight;
Nor doth the foe remain alive,
On whom his hammer haps to light.
Late vanquish’d by the Asar brave,
Excluded from the solar ray,
Bound in the mountain’s deepest cave,
In fetters Lok of Utgard lay.
But vain the giant monarch’s doom,
Naught can his stubborn hate control;
Here in the midst of cold and gloom
Fresh thoughts of vengeance fire his soul.
Like singed threads his chains he rends,
Bursts through the surface of the earth,
To Upsala his course he bends,
Of Northern gods the sacred hearth;
He there extinguishes the fire,
And shakes to dust the temple’s walls.[13]
This deed excites great Odin’s ire;
To council he the Asar calls.
Each at the council board, I ween,
Gave the advice that seem’d him fit:
But Thor with hand beneath his chin
Lost in reflection seem’d to sit.
Much did the hero muse and scan,
How best to punish Loki’s crime,
And by some well-concerted plan
To crush the Lord of Jotunheim.
To rove in search of glorious war
This Asa chief finds much delight,
High seated in his golden car
Drawn by two goats of colour white.
Earth well may tremble with dismay,
When through the skies this chariot rolls,
For clouds then veil the face of day,
And awful thunders shake the poles.
But ’mongst the Asar one call’d Lok
Holds rank, nor undeserved the name;
For much he joys with spiteful mock
To lacerate his neighbours’ fame.
Howe’er he shine in outward grace,
Hollow and false is all within:
Before the Ash[14] he oft must pass
In penance for his various sin.
With scorpion wit and envious tongue
Though oft he gives the Asar pain,
Still his arch jests and gibing song
Compel them strait to laugh again:
His features fair are own’d by all,
But all his mind perverse deplore;
He takes his seat in Odin’s hall
Upon the bench next Asa-Thor.
The Nymphs[15], that Valhall’s dome adorn,
With breast of lily, cheek of pink,
To all th’ Einherier in their turn
Now bear around th’ immortal drink.
The largest horn high-fill’d with mead
Was drain’d by Thor the chieftain bold:
And then to seek his goats he sped,
And yoke them to his car of gold.
He grasps his hammer, mounts his car,
And bids Lok place him by his side;
The thunders roar, the lightnings glare,
As down the vault of heaven they glide!
Heimdaller views them roll along,
And greets with trumpet loud and shrill:
The seven virgins[16] tune their song,
And Thor salute with gracious smile.
Then Lok on fraud and guile intent,
Thus Thor address’d: “Methinks, ’tis time
Our bitter foes to circumvent,
And quell the powers of Jotunheim;
Thou mayst defy the force of fire,
And laugh to scorn the earthquake’s shock;
Feelest thou not a strong desire
For once to visit Utgard Lok?”
Then Thor: “My corslet braves the steel;
My helm unbruised in fight remains:
And, be he dwarf or giant fell,
Whom Miölner strikes, it ends his pains.”
Now to the earth they swift descend;
The birds sing gaily in the wood,
And every flower its head doth bend,
Owning the presence of a god.
The sun now sinks beneath the main,
The night obscures its parting rays;
Rolling athwart the starry plain,
The moon its silver disk displays:
Two funeral mounds appear in sight:
Then first the eyes of Asa Thor
Glisten’d in triumph. Late at night
They stand a peasant’s hut before.
They ask for shelter; lowly bows
The peasant, and replies: “My lords!
You’re welcome here to seek repose;
But little else my roof affords.”
They needs must stoop to enter through
The cottage door; and there they found
The peasant’s wife and daughter too
Sitting the lowly hearth around.
The daughter was a graceful maid
With azure eyes and golden hair.
They rose; and thus the matron said:
“Alas! but meagre is our fare:
Mere roots and herbs our meal supply;
No flesh invigorates our blood.”
“Fear not! This night shall be no lack of food.”
See now the giant-queller raise
His hammer! lo! his goats he slew!
Such was his custom: with amaze,
Yet not displeased this act to view,
The old dame stared; then rushed in haste
Upon the board to spread the cloth;
While Lok, as cook, prepared to baste
The meat, and mix the savoury broth.
A wondrous fact I now reveal:
Thor drives these goats around the earth,
And slays them for his nightly meal,
When no provisions cheer the hearth.
This done, their skins and bones he takes,
And casts them in a corner strait:
And lo! those goats, when he awakes,
Again stand living at the gate.
See from the wood the peasant’s son
Laden with faggots now appear!
He piles them on the hearth: anon
The smoking steaks the trav’llers cheer:
No dish had they; Thor’s buckler broad
This want supplied: and now they feed
With hearty zest, while the goats’ blood
Furnish’d to all delicious mead.
No sooner was the supper past,
Thor rose observant of his rite;
The bones within the skins he cast;
This did not ’scape the urchin’s sight:
His liquorish tooth would fain partake
Of daintier food than met the eye;
So unperceived a bone he brake,
And suck’d the marrow greedily.
The morning dawn’d: with choral strain
The feather’d songsters fill the skies:
The sun ascends: the travellers twain
From slumbers light refresh’d arise.
To war and bold adventure prone,
Each buckles on his armour strait,
And whets his weapon on the stone,
That stands without the cottage gate.
As in the car the Asar sprung,
The urchin’s trick was manifest;
One goat limp’d heavily along,
As if with lameness sore oppress’d.[17]
Thor was enraged; his colour fled;
He bit his lips; his eyes flash’d fire;
Well might the wretched peasant dread
For wife and child the chieftain’s ire.
But more so, when he saw the chief
Brandish on high his hammer vast:
The danger threaten’d, no relief
At hand; with fear he stood aghast:
Then, kneeling down, he humbly sued
Forgiveness for the stripling’s guile,
Offering all he had: the God
At such an offer well might smile.
Relenting at the peasant’s prayer,
And pitying his extreme distress,
He bade him rise with friendly air,
And gave his hand in pledge of peace.
“If to my care thou wilt confide
Those children stout,” said Asa-Thor,
“I will for all their wants provide,
And teach them both the art of war.”
Pleased to escape with a whole skin,
This offer glad the swain embraced:
Lok gave to each a javelin,
And strait their limbs in armour laced:
Their glist’ning eyes the joy reveal
Of Tialfe bold, and Roska bright:
To serve the God how proud they feel,
And court the perils of the fight.
The Lord of Trudvang now design’d
On foot to seek the giant’s lair:
His car and goats he left behind,
Confided to the peasant’s care.
Impatient of delay, he fain
Would march direct to Jotunheim.
They journey on o’er many a plain,
And rivers cross, and mountains climb.
And now can I assert with truth,
Tialfe became a warrior good;
No son of earth could e’er this youth
Surpass in zeal and fortitude:
His strength by Thor was duly prized,
As gay he trudg’d across the field,
And on his brawny shoulders poised
The heavy bag with viands fill’d.
E’en Freya’s self could scarce excel
Young Roska for her shape and air;
Her bosom now is cased in steel,
A golden helmet crowns her hair.
Thor towers aloft in plates of brass,
With Miölner in his right hand gleaming:
Lok trips along in light cuirass,
His dark locks o’er his shoulders streaming.
Now marching on, the tedious way
They oft beguile with gay discourse;
Sudden a wild tempestuous sea
Appears in sight, and checks their course!
The roaring billows reckless roll’d
White foaming ’gainst the marble steep!
And Rana’s voice was heard to scold
With frightful scream from out the deep!
The mighty monarch, Ægir hight,
Consort of Ran, o’er ocean reigns:
Beneath a roof of pearl so bright
He sits, and stern his right maintains;
With diamond-pointed pole the wave
He guides; a silver helmet, starr’d
With coral, decks his temples grave,
And sea-weed forms his shaggy beard.
On Hlesey you may find his throne
Of muscle-shell: this monarch sage
Can by a frown or wink alone
The billows’ utmost wrath assuage.
’Twixt him and Niord a pact holds good,[18]
And when Niord rides across the deep,
On coal-black courser mounted proud,
The winds are hush’d, the billows sleep.
Lok now with terror stood appall’d;
This did not ’scape Thor’s eye severe.
“Ha!” to his comrade stern he call’d:
“Let not thy courage fail thee here!
Take heart! take heart! if thus we shrink
At th’ onset of our enterprize,
What shame! what scandal! think! oh think!
Thou didst thyself this plan devise.”
Thus said, into the foaming sea
He plunged, and bade them follow strait:
No more delay; they all obey;
And spite of helm and corslet’s weight
With nervous arm they stem the brine;
With fear no more their bosoms quail:
They heed not now the mermaid’s whine,
And laugh to scorn the snorting whale.
On, on they swim with hope elate,
In spite of warring wave and wind;
And though the waves high o’er them beat,
Full many a mile they leave behind.
At length the lightning’s vivid flash
By fits reveals a glimpse of land;
And breakers, that around them dash,
Give hopes to gain the adverse strand.
How wondrous is thy strength, O Thor!
Encouraged by th’ example set
Of that brave chief, they reach the shore,
And land in garments dripping wet.
The moon, emerging from a cloud,
A wild and barren heath displays:
They droop, but Thor cries out aloud:
“Now, by yon moon’s benignant rays,
“We may some dwelling find at last;
Let us inland our course pursue!”
O’er sand and ice they struggle fast,
While cold and bleak the north-wind blew.
Roska at length, with marching spent,
Implored her fellow-trav’llers’ aid;
Lok carried now the damsel faint,
Lok ever lov’d a beauteous maid.
Now burst the clouds with thunder riven,
And dark as pitch the sky became,
Save when athwart the vault of heaven
A meteor lanced a transient flame!
The rain in torrents now descending,
Struck terror in each trav’ller’s breast;
E’en Thor himself, that chief unbending,
Could scarce his mind of fear divest.
He girds his belt around him tight:
“Here Lok of Utgard’s juggling play
Hath ample scope the heroes bright
Of Asagard to lead astray.
But short shall the fiend’s triumph be;
His insolence will I chastise,
And teach him low to bend the knee
Before the rulers of the skies!”
Thus Thor. At length a hut they find;
They enter; it may serve them well
For shelter from the piercing wind
And rain, that still in torrents fell.
But such a hut was never seen;[19]
Open remain’d one side entire;
’T was one vast door; the chiefs, I ween,
This entrance strange did much admire.
They loose their wallet now to seek
Their food, by hunger gaunt compell’d;
Poor Roska, with a pallid cheek,
Sat in a corner, half congeal’d.
Two legs of goat they soon consumed,
Then laid them down to seek repose;
But Thor alone the watch assumed,
His thoughts forbid his eyes to close.
His cheek upon his palm reclines;
He sits beside the spacious door;
Secure of Miölner, he designs
Destruction to the giant’s power.
This gives him comfort and delight;
What glory will to him accrue!
How oft during the long, long night,
He grasps with pride his weapon true!

CANTO II.
SPELLS UPON THE HEATH.

As Thor now sat with watchful ear,
In pensiveness profound,
A startling din he chanced to hear,
’Twas like the earthquake’s sound.
All nature shook; the billows’ roar
By this was deafen’d quite:
Thor grasp’d his hammer, nor forbore
His belt to fasten tight.
Now starting up, the Asa spake
Aloud with accent shrill:
“Who is it dares this noise to make,
When Hlorrida lies still?”
His choler he could scarce restrain,
He fain would kill and slay;
And much it gave the hero pain
No foe stood in his way.
A comet now with awful sweep
Shot through the sky blood-red,
And, stretch’d out on the earth asleep,
A Jotun vast display’d!
His snoring made the mountains shake,
So frightful was the sound;
He seem’d as long as the boa snake
On Java’s swampy ground.
When Thor’s eye to the spot was turn’d,
He saw the giant move,
And on the goblin’s skull he burn’d
His hammer’s strength to prove.
Of this the giant seem’d aware,
He started up in haste:
The sight all mortal eyes would scare,
Of such dimensions vast.
He view’d his foes with fearful scowl,
He shook his shoulders broad;
His voice was like the ice-bear’s growl,
Vex’d by the hunter’s goad;
Each of his nerves like brass was strong,
And hard and tough his skin;
He bore a pole of iron long,
Instead of javelin.
Now Thor to scrutinize his foe
With cautious look began;
Then burst he forth: “Say, who art thou,
Thou strange, wild-looking man?”
Then he: “From Goblin-land[20] I come,
All weapons’ force I mock,
For who shall Skrymur overcome,
Who serves great Utgard-Lok?
“Thy name I ask not, and though now
I first behold thy face,
The features of our bitt’rest foe
In thine, methinks, I trace.
And though the Asar with applause
Thy merits loud proclaim,
We giants spurn their boasted laws,
And laugh to scorn their fame.
“The trifling noise my snoring made
Hath caused thee much alarm;
With helm and plume upon thy head
Thou canst not reach my arm.
Upon my palm I’d hold thee high
All in thy armour dress’d;
Yet of our Jotun race am I
The weakest and the least.”
He gazed around on every side,
His eye-balls fiercely glared:
“Where is my glove? (he gruffly cried,)
To steal it who hath dared?”
At length a horse-laugh wild and fierce
Announced the giant’s mirth;
He laugh’d to see Thor’s followers
From out the hut come forth.
The giant now to feel the ground
Stoop’d down with knitted brow;
He stoop’d again, and groped around:
“My glove, where is it now?”
His helm’s bright horse-hair waved sublime,
Like fir-crown’d mountain’s top:
He stoop’d once more; and lo! this time
He took the cottage up!
Then first our travellers perceiv’d
By th’ morning dawn full well,
That, what a cottage they believ’d,
Was a vast glove of steel.[21]
Upon his hand the giant drew
The glove; it fitted tight;
At once it fill’d the champions true
With wonder and affright.
But Thor exclaim’d: “Cheer up, my friends!
Believe me! strength or skill
Never on size alone depends;
The wolf an ox can kill.
For me, with this foul fiend to cope
Quite resolute I stand:
Shame were it, should an Asa droop
With Miölner in his hand.”
Now this discourse the giant fear’d;
He lean’d against his spear.
“What urgeth Thor of Asagard
To quit his brilliant sphere?
What moves the mighty God of war
To tread this barren strand?
Why is he come without his car
To our dark Goblin-land?”
Then thus replied with accent grum
The god to heroes dear:
“Enough! it pleas’d me here to come,
And, therefore, I am here.
’Bout Lok thy swarthy king things strange
I’ve heard, and now I go
My thoughts with him to interchange
In Utgard’s realm below.
“I long to view that Chief of fame,
And tarry there awhile;
For naught I fear his arms of flame,
Nor e’en his magic guile:
The giants long have learn’d to quake,
When Asa-Thor drew near.”
Tialfe and Roska, as he spake,
Now smiled, devoid of fear.
The giant now with bitter sneer
Thus boisterously replies:
“I warn thee not to persevere
In this rash enterprize:
Athwart the iron staves so high,
That Utgard’s realm surround,
No Asa with impunity
His entrance e’er hath found.
“Restrain thy course, thou Asa pale!
Nor seek our realm to view!
For there thy strength will naught avail;
Thy rashness thou mayst rue:
As friend, I know, thou comest not,
But shouldst thou entrance gain,
Defeat and shame will be thy lot,
And hope of flight is vain.
“Go back, I say! once more return
To thy star-lighted dome!
Midst wilds of bramble, brake and thorn,
What boots it here to roam?
A desert drear, where howls the storm,
A sea, where billows roar,
Between the gods and giants form
The bound’ry ever more.
“In warlike games and banquets gay
The Asar pass their time,
Warm’d by the sun’s eternal ray
In Asagard sublime:
A royal life of bliss and power
The Nornor them have given;
And mortals fervent still adore
The denizens of heaven.
“But for the swarthy giant brood
Far different is the lot:
They wax in strength and hardihood
I’ th’ mountain’s deepest grot.
Earth’s sons to us no honour pay;
They venture not to tread
Those dreary wastes, where we hold sway;
They fly from us with dread.
“Darkness our realm for aye conceals
From earth’s light-favour’d sphere:
No fires, but what the flint reveals,
Our gloomy caverns cheer:
The Asar’s glory ’tis to found
Creation, order, life:
But we delight to spread around
Destruction, ruin, strife.”
Now Thor was stagger’d, and anon
With Miölner struck his shield.
“Thou bitter fiend! thou evil One,
’Gainst sense and feeling steel’d!
My hammer cannot here, of course,
Attain thy lofty brow;
But thou shouldst feel my lightning’s force,
Were in Trudvang now.
“Do Utgard’s champions dare to hold
To Thor such language proud?
Foul pismire thou in earth’s black mould!
Vile slug with torpid blood!
Thinkst thou to damp my courage high,
Because thou tower’st above
These brambles? I thy arms defy;
Thy arts my pity move.
“I tell ye plain, ye giant brood!
Were ye in number more
Than snakes in Nastrond’s marshy flood,
Or sands on the sea-shore,
I’d brave ye all; for none alive
Would Thor the combat shun;
To me what pleasure would it give
To slay ye every one!
“Not only valour stout in war,
But wit, and skill, and grace
Our Asar boast; and think ye, Thor
Cannot your Lok surpass?
Your frightful teeth may terrify
The children of mankind:
Thor’s frown alone would make ye fly,
Like chaff before the wind.
“Alfader hath of old consign’d ye
To realms of damp and shade;
In caverns deep, ’tis there we find ye
In treach’rous ambuscade;
Night only gives ye courage; then
Ye quit your lurking place,
And with huge clubs and frightful din
The works of man deface.
“When the poor trav’ller seeks his home,
Ye lead him far astray;
With murderers and wolves ye roam,
And guide them to their prey:
Ye feast on human hearts; their blood
Ye drink with savage joy;
And all that’s useful, great, and good,
Your lust is to destroy.
“But tremble! think! the day will come,
When you shall perish all:
The Nornor have decreed your doom;
By our hand shall ye fall:
Your limbs shall be consumed by fire;
The mountains be your grave:
Let no one hope Alfader’s ire
Unpunish’d long to brave!
“In torrents shall your life’s blood flow;
The dwarfs, although they be
Your kinsmen, towards your overthrow
Shall lend their industry:
For us the sons of light ’tis they
That forge the weapons good,
And those same weapons shall one day
Be colour’d with your blood.
“Behold this hammer! from its blow
The tide of death bursts forth:
’Twas a dwarf’s gift; this girdle too!
I’ve prov’d, methinks, its worth.”
Thus said, the hero brandish’d high
His Miölner; at the sight
The giant cow’ring made reply:
“I question not thy might:
“Let us be friends, thou Asa good!
To Utgard straight I’ll guide thee;
And every night with choicest food
For supper I’ll provide thee:
And Utgard-Lok will much rejoice,
Such is my fond belief.
Himself to see and hear the voice
Of such a glorious chief.”
Silent they moved along the strand,
While Skrymur march’d before,
Bearing a wallet in his hand:
E’en Roska fear’d no more.
The farther they advanc’d, the road
Less difficult became.
Thor’s anger vanish’d; on they strode;
With joy their faces beam.
They cross’d a plain at close of day;
On th’ borders of a wood
Arrived, quoth Skrymur: “Here we may,
Methinks, take rest and food.
Let us this night no further go,
Repose we all do need:
And, when at morn the cock’s shrill crow
Awakes us, we’ll proceed.”
His heavy wallet down he flings,
Then adds with meaning sly:
“Be cautious not to spoil the strings,
When you this bag untie!
In it, believe me, thou wilt find
A supper, better far
Than what, O Thor, thy consort kind,
Sif, could herself prepare.”
And now under the green-wood tree
The giant went to sleep,
While shelter’d by the forest’s lee
The rest their vigils keep:
For they would fain, by hunger press’d,
Of the good cheer partake
The bag contain’d; and oft they bless’d
The donor for its sake.
At length said Thor: “We must, my friends!
Our work with caution ply:
Since Skrymur caution recommends,
When we this bag untie.
Methinks, ’twere better to confide
To Roska’s hand this toil:
Her fingers soft will best avoid
His precious bag to spoil.”
Now with good will fair Roska took
The wallet on her knee;
And while the task she undertook,
Sat down beneath a tree.
The wallet to unbind with care
Much did the damsel strain;
The knots so closely twisted were,
’Twas labour all in vain.
Then Thor from his moss-cover’d seat
To Tialfe said: “Try thou!
For supperless thou wouldst regret
To go to sleep, I know.”
Now with the wallet on his thigh
Young Tialfe sat him down,
But vain his active fingers ply;
He gives it up full soon.
“I cannot by soft means,” he cried,
“These close-tied knots undo;
Force must be used.” “Nay!” Thor replied,
“Ye all have heard my vow
The Giant’s wallet not to spoil;
But since our food we need,
Go, Lok! try thou the arduous toil!
Thou mayst perhaps succeed.
“For what to man remains unknown,
Thou often canst divine;
Doubtless, thy hand, Laufeia’s son!
Will these hard knots untwine.”
Lok took the wallet up, and strove
Dextrous the knots to loose;
But vain his skill and efforts prove
Against the mystic noose.
Thor smiled; he rose, and seiz’d the bag,
By hunger gaunt impell’d;
Yet soon his strenuous efforts flag:
Lo! Thor himself hath fail’d!
The God in wrath took up at length
His sword, the knots to cut;
In vain he cut with all his strength;
The wallet open’d not.
With both his hands in fury now
He lifts his hammer fell:
“The fiend has juggled us, I trow,
With some accursed spell.
To punish him be mine the task,
And Miölner will, I trust,
Athwart the Goblin’s broken casque
Its shaft with brains incrust.”
With this, upon the giant’s head
He dealt a pond’rous blow:
The giant oped his eyes, and said:
“What hath disturb’d me so?
Upon my cheek hath fall’n some leaf,
As fast asleep I lay;
But where’s my wallet, mighty chief?
Hast thou untied it, pray?”
Now red with anger Thor became:
“Thou bitter fiend! this night
(He murmur’d, while his eyes shot flame)
Shall death thy fraud requite.”
Once more to sleep the giant rude
Address’d himself; his snoring
Deafen’d the monsters of the wood
In awful concert roaring.
Now Thor, much vexed, a second blow
With force redoubled gives:
His eyes roll fearful to and fro:
“What? still the Goblin lives?”
At length with rage and fury spent,
He throws his Miölner down:
But to the nib the hammer went
Into the giant’s crown.
The giant woke: his mouth he screw’d;
“I now perceive full well,
While I was sleeping in the wood,
An acorn on me fell.
But where’s my wallet? comrades dear!
Have ye the knots untwined?
And did ye not delicious cheer
In my good wallet find?”
The giant turn’d again to sleep
All on the mossy ground;
While Thor with thoughts of vengeance deep
His belt fast round him bound:
He raised his powerful voice aloud
To Odin’s throne on high;
The very beasts that haunt the wood
Were frighten’d at his cry.
His eyes flash’d fire; a crash was heard!
He struck with might and main!
But lo! the giant’s temples hard
Unscathed still remain!
“How now? what’s this? upon my brow
A branch hath fall’n, I find:
But where’s my wallet? tell me now!
Have ye the knots untwined?”[22]
Shaking his limbs, the giant vast
Slow from the grass rose up;
The sun, emerging from the east,
Now gilds the forest’s top.
“Methinks,” said he, “O chief divine!
Our course we should pursue,
If still it be your firm design
Great Utgard Lok to view.”
The giant now with shield and spear
Moved on, and led the way:
Close in his wake the others steer
Their course, all blithe and gay.
But lo! the tall cloud-threatening towers,
Though distant, meet their eyes,
Where dwell the fierce gigantic powers,
Who gods and men despise!
’Tis Utgard! rocks piled upon rocks
Compose its ramparts vast!
And see what massive bolts and locks
Its portals huge make fast!
Enormous bars of iron, long
As mast of admiral,
Form palisades with sharpen’d prong,
Which stoutest hearts appal.
“Behold our city!” Skrymur cried,
“Its towers impregnable!
Its stony bastions stretching wide!
Its palisades of steel!
Yet fear thou naught! accept this pike!
Thou needst but once the gate
With its enchanted point to strike,
And lo! ’twill open strait.
“And now farewell! I must begone,
And leave ye here behind:
To guide ye safe to Lok’s proud throne
Giants enow ye’ll find:
Take heart! with a firm step advance!
Valour ye do not lack;
With such a hammer, sword and lance,
Ye need fear no attack.”
Thus said, he grasp’d his wallet fast,
And bound it to his spear;
Then strode on to the mountains vast,
Which towards the north[23] appear,
And soon he vanish’d from their view
The winding rocks among;
While Thor with his companions true
’Gainst Utgard march’d along.