Ere in days of yore the lofty Asar

Schemes of conquest to devise began,

Ruling their ancestral mountain region

Near the plains of bounteous Ginnistan;[56]

Ere they, on proud coursers prancing,

Scorning danger, sallied forth,

Giants quelling,

Dwarfs compelling,

Towards the granite strong-holds of the North.

Oft with friendly mien the peaceful Vaner

With them sought alliance to cement:

’Twas the Vaner taught the race of Odin

Art and science, life’s best blandishment:

Taught them to root out the thistle,

And with flowers to deck the field;

Then to prove

Faith and love,

Niord the horseman swift as hostage yield.

Drought severe oft forest, vale and meadow,

Suffer’d from the ardent solar flame;

But no sooner Niord bestrode his courser,

Fresh and cool the air at once became:

He dispels each noxious vapour,

Paints the sky with azure hue;

Precious arts

He imparts,

Nature to adorn and strengthen too.

By his sister he became the father

First of Frey, and then of Freya fair;

By the Vaner’s law he chose his consort,

Such a tie is not illicit there.

Both were lovely, joy’d to kindle

In man’s breast the amorous flame:

Such a nation

Still keeps station

On Caucasian steeps, with well-earn’d fame.

Now behold the dynasts of Valhalla

Swift their course from Asia’s valleys bend,

Southern fire and Orient’s lofty genius

With the North’s more sober blood to blend!

Naught their earnest wish concealing,

Niord their soft entreaties gain:

Straight doth Niord[57]

Pledge his word,

And with son and daughter join their train.

Odin spake: “Th’ unconquer’d North invites us

With her fir-clad mountains wild and drear!

There the beechen forest waves majestic,

Redolent with Ocean’s healthful air!

Thither will I lead my Asar,

On those rocks my legions spread:

Thou, O Thor!

During war.

During peace shall Odin take the lead,

Planting on each isle and rock their banner,

Shall our bands victorious still advance:

On those rugged cliffs shall oft give battle;

Oft our skiffs on foaming billows dance.

Think! when with the force of iron

Mingles Orient’s genial flame,

What a race,

Full of grace,

Rising there, the world’s applause shall claim!”

Joyful on his winged courser mounted,

Niord for the whole army clear’d the road;

Drying up each marsh, each mist dispelling,[58]

Fearless through impervious wilds he rode.

Never weary, flying, swimming,

Proud his steed pursues his course:

Winds compelling,

Skiffs propelling,

Nature bows to Niord’s resistless force.

Glorious to behold was Niord the hero,

As he pranced along the meadows gay:

Graceful through the sky his courser’s pinions

Floated like a dream i’ th’ morning grey:

Quick he views, and leaves as quickly,

All he finds, both far and near:

With bright beams

Proudly gleams,

Perch’d upon his helm, the morning star.

Of your aid deprived, O skilful Vaner!

What were in the north the Asar’s power?

What would then avail thy wisdom, Odin?

What avail thy boasted strength, O Thor?

Frey midst thorns and brakes and briars

Flax and corn benignant sows:

On mankind,

Ever kind,

Freya offspring beautiful bestows.

She herself obtain’d a handsome bridegroom;

Odur was he call’d on India’s plain:[59]

On the banks of Ganges first she met him,

Tow’ring midst a numerous warlike train:

Crown’d with garlands, hymns reciting,

Swains and maidens round him throng:

With loud crash

Cymbals clash:

Rocks re-echo the triumphal song.

See him on his golden car high seated

Drawn by lions and by tigers strong!

These, compell’d by his heroic valour,

Humbly drag his chariot wheels along:

Laurel wreaths aloft extending,

Nymphs precede the car and sing;

Drum and flute,

Lyre and lute,

To the chaunt their aid harmonious bring.

From the dark recesses of the forest

Started forth the grim ferocious bands!

Ravish’d at the sound of drum and cymbal,

With delight they danced and clapp’d their hands.

Odur by the crystal fountain

Stopp’d them in the shady glen;

There he tamed,

And reclaimed

To the arts of peace those savage men.

Now on every slope and sun-tipp’d mountain

Most exposed to Muspel’s genial heat,

Near the wave, the branches green he planted,

Which produce the raisin’s treasure sweet:

Soon from him the valley’s children

Learn the art to press the vine:

From its blood,

Grateful food,

Love finds nurture for its flame divine.

In the grove the amorous god presented

To the goddess bright the jovial bowl:

Clust’ring grapes and leaves adorn his forehead;

Pleasure-breathing looks reveal his soul:

Smooth his limbs like those of woman,

Still a vigorous male was he:

Yet the fair

Disa’s hair

Bound him fast, and made him bend the knee.

From the trees so green the birds delighted

Mark each fond caress, each amorous freak;

How she with her hands of alabaster

Fondly pats the hero’s sun-burnt cheek:

Like the billows’ foam, her bosom

Proudly swell’d, exposed and bare:

Every flower

Witness bore

To the transports of the beauteous pair.

Freya now became the spouse of Odur;

Seldom could the lovers separate.

When the Asar from their old dominion

Sallied forth to found the northern state,

In his chariot drawn by leopards

Odur seated with his spouse

In his arms,

On her charms

Gazing ever, plights eternal vows.

Much it cost the hero to relinquish

Such a land, the parent of the vine:

But who would not, far beyond the raisin,

Prize a lovely female’s charms divine?

Still he took his vine-plants with him,

Mindful of his precious art:

Oft in glowing

Cups o’erflowing

Odur’s gift refreshes Odin’s heart.

Thus, while all the other gods of Valhall

Drain the goblet fill’d with mead and ale,

Odin with the apple of Iduna,

Or with wine, enjoys his best regale:

And when Odur fled from Freya,

’Scaping from the gelid north,

He bestow’d

On the god

What he deem’d the gift of greatest worth.

How could he forget the lovely Disa

After such enjoyment rich and rare?

How thus tear himself away unfeeling

From a bosom so divinely fair?

Yet he’d oft, in bliss dissolving,

Term his spouse his greatest treasure:

With delight

On that night

Oft he thought entranced, and wept with pleasure.

But when Thiasse carried off Iduna,

Vanish’d every trace of Freya’s bloom;

Old and wrinkled, flabby and repelling

Was the Disa, once so fair, become:

From the couch he leap’d in anger,

Drew his sword in wild alarm:

O confusion!

Curst delusion!

Vainly now he seeks each wonted charm.

“Is it thus thou hast deceiv’d thy lover?

Ugly witch!” disdainful thus he said:

“Grace of birth divine and youth perennial

Didst thou feign to lure me to thy bed?

But the mask hath dropp’d—I find not

Of thy charms one single trace:

Old in mien,

Shrivell’d, lean.

How canst thou unblushing show thy face?”

Naught avail’d the tears of Freya: Odur

Fled disgusted from her nerveless arms.

Where he once such poignant pleasure tasted,

Where he revell’d in celestial charms.

There he left his car and leopards:

Freya sits, to grief a prey,

Sad, despairing,

Wildly staring

At the heaven’s expanse, or dark blue sea.

Never more the Asar race beheld him;

To his Vaner he return’d again.

Golden tears now shed the wretched Freya,

When she gazed upon the stormy main.

Though she found again her beauty,

Odur never more she found:

Tears of woe

Constant flow

From her eyes: the groves her plaint resound.

When the apples of the fair Iduna,

Fruit of health and youth, were found again,

Much it griev’d Valfader’s heart to notice

Beauty sorrowing on her couch in vain:

Straight he sent in search of Odur

Hermod with his magic spear.

Now his fate

I’ll relate,

If my harpings ye will deign to hear.

Odur hied him to the grove of laurel,

Where first Freya met his amorous glance:

Vain the satyrs with their music greet him;

Vain voluptuous damsels round him dance:

Callous now to all about him,

Dwelling on his loss severe,

Much he groan’d,

Wept and moan’d

In the sandy waste, forlorn and drear.

Grapes and vine-leaves from his brow depending,

Now with vacant gaze he fixes heaven:

In the spring of youth thus solitary,

Swim his eyes, with melancholy riven.

Sweet illusion charms his spirit;

Yielding to the frenzy bland,

Lost in dreams

Still he seems,

On his bosom ever press’d his hand.

Hermod, from behind the bush advancing,

Touches Odur with his magic wand:

Straight transform’d e’en to the very marrow

See him now a marble statue stand!

To this day through Asia roving,

Him, ’tis said, the Scald hath found

Thus alone

Changed to stone

In the forest, still with vine-leaves crown’d.

For the death of her beloved Odur

Deeply Freya mourns with grief sincere:

In the ecstacy of melancholy

Down her lovely cheek flows many a tear:

Oft her heart’s profound emotion

Pours she in each lover’s breast;

Pleasing thrill,

Flowing still,

Painful longing! from thy poignant zest.

A fruitful isle was swallow’d by the remorseless wave;

In each nook of the palace, each god, morose, alone,

Sat looking straight before him, as motionless as stone.

No longer the Einherier, eight hundred at a time,

In the arena skirmish for Odin’s prize sublime;

They now no longer sally from Trudvang’s brazen port,

To give wounds and receive them, in Hildur’s[61] fav’rite sport.

They cease the glaive to brandish; their blood no longer flows;

They spring not up with laughter from the well-levell’d blows:

Nor roast flesh of Sâhrimner with appetite assail;

Nor drain the horn capacious, brimming with mead or ale.

No more in Freya’s garden are faithful lovers seen,

In ecstacy conversing under the bowers so green:

By passion warm’d no longer, they to the fountain throng,

Nor listen by the moonlight to Philomela’s song.

No more Hagbarth and Signe, when the blue wave beneath

The sun descends, now descant on their heroic death,

When they, upon love’s pinions, were wafted from the vale

Of bitter care and sorrow to bright Gladheimasal.

While Valaskialf is shrouded by mists and noisome dews,

In th’ absence of the apple, that youth and strength renews,

The giants, wild rejoicing, in arms all ready stand

To lay waste proud Valhalla with vengeful sword and brand.

The first who thought on vengeance with helm and buckler bright

Was giant Thiasse’s daughter, mischievous Skada hight:

Clad in her brazen armour, to Valhall’s gate she came,

And knew not that her father had perish’d in the flame.

This female was to Freya unlike in mind and grace,

Yet wit she had and vigour, nor homely was her face:

When mounted on her courser in the dark stormy night,

Under her sable head-dress her eyes gave dazzling light.

Though with impure old witches she revels in the wood,

Yet she herself was blooming in health and youthful blood:

On her fair cheek the tempest the rose’s hue bestow’d;

Her hair adown her shoulders in jetty ringlets flow’d.

Like two white foaming billows her bosom swell’d half-bared;

Her arms smooth and well-rounded; her flesh was plump and hard:

Like the storm-wind in temper, capricious, wild and proud;

Fearful the rocks re-echo, whene’er she scolds aloud.

But when she came to Vingolf, her anger vanish’d quite:

She view’d with admiration the fair-hair’d sons of light;

With love her heart beat wildly, when Balder came in view;

With rapture fill’d her bosom his eyes so soft, so blue.

Those eyes, ’tis true, lack’d lustre; the cause ye well may guess,

’Tis since Iduna’s apples no more the Asar bless.

Shouts Skada: “Peace I offer, and all my wrongs forgive,

If Balder fair as husband, Odin to me will give.”

That Skada might not sicken from unrequited love,

They bound her eyes, and bade her her skill in coursing prove:

’Twas Odin’s own proposal. “Begin the sport,” quoth he;

“Whom[62] she blindfolded catches, shall Skada’s husband be.”

Now like a sea-bird flutt’ring, the black-hair’d virgin stout

Rustled, and breath’d like whirlwind the spacious hall about:

The gods draw back; now forward they move; now halt, afraid;

No easy task they found it to shun the giant maid.

Though far more skill and swiftness th’ Asynior all could boast,

Before Iduna’s treasure was to Valhalla lost,

Yet Skada now excels them; she jumps about as brisk,

As silver-scaled fishes through billows glide and frisk.

A pair of legs now catching, she laugh’d and straight began

Their measure and proportion with eager hand to scan:

She much admired the ankle, the powerful calf, the foot;

These well-turn’d limbs, thought Skada, a happy prize denote.

At first she thought ’twas Balder: she utter’d not a word,

But rising, tore her band off, and saw that it was Niord:

She burst into a loud laugh, which caused the walls to shake,

And pressing to her bosom her captive, thus she spake:

“Ha! we shall suit each other; in truth a well-match’d pair:

As soon as with her apple returns Iduna fair,

Begin once more thy blowing! I’ll raise the wind by night:

In tempers diff’rent moulded, by turns we’ll prove our might.

“On gold-maned Skinfax mounted, thou shalt prevail by day:

At night, upon dark Hrimfax, will I pursue my way:

With flowers thou lov’st to dally; to barren rocks I cling:

Health to the north thou bringest; I Skada mischief bring.

“In summer and in autumn, then are thy seasons meet;

My vapours thou dispersest, and coolst the sultry heat:

Then I, on skaits, o’er Finnmark with bow and arrow fly,

And through fog, sleet and snow-storm my course unseen I ply.

“With cricket on thy shoulder, with beechen branch in hand,

While nightingales sweet singing upon thy helmet stand,

Thou ridest on thy courser, o’er forest, hill and dale,

With rays of light proceeding from his long mane and tail.

“Short mane and tail hath Hrimfax; he’s black and small in size:

Hoar frost clings to his nostrils; his breathings chill the skies:

But fearful are his neighings; and when he rears, then mark!

Unroof’d becomes each dwelling, unmasted every bark.

“Me gulls and sea-mews follow with shrill ear-piercing cries;

The Mermaids from the water, at my command, arise:

The seal jumps in the billow, when I am close at hand;

He dares no longer sun him upon the rocky strand.

“Dost thou not comprehend me? thou seemst to hesitate:

Hath not Ægir a consort i’ th’ ocean with a net?

Is not Ægir an Asa? is not Ran giant-born?

Why then shouldst thou of Skada reject the love with scorn?

“How long ’twixt gods and giants shall last the hateful feud?

’Tis time, methinks, the quarrel to end with ties of blood:

’Twill soon to peace eternal all obstacles remove,

If thou to me wilt promise fidelity and love.

“The bitter must be mingled with all that is too sweet,

And life recall to living what lies in death’s retreat;

Joy must with grief alternate; night shift the rule with day;

The herring shoals, when shining, become of whales the prey.

“Not every plant can flourish; thus were the cherry-tree

Ever from storms protected by the wall’s friendly lee,

Did not the wind its blossom scatter around like snow,

Its trunk would soon be rotten, the tree soon cease to grow.”

By such convincing reasons the wavering god she plied:

At the command of Odin the marriage knot was tied.

But Idun still was absent; dull pass’d the nuptial feast;

Each Disa mourn’d; but Freya wept more than all the rest.

Hoarse was the voice of Bragur; the mead-horn ceased to cheer:

A knife lay in Frey’s bosom; the cause ye soon shall hear:

He greeted not his father, but sorrowful in mood

He to the height ascended, where Hlidskialf’s castle stood.

On Hlidskialf’s tower so lofty stands Odin’s mystic throne;

From thence all the world’s actions are to his eye made known:

No other god but Odin dare mount that awful seat;

Frey on that day, however, this rule seem’d to forget.

He fix’d the royal garland in thought upon his head,

But half its wonted splendour with Idun’s fruit was fled:

There gazed he, sad and pensive, o’er mountain, rock and field;

And now my rhimes shall tell ye, what there the god beheld.

But while he gazed, his longing eyes witness’d a wondrous sight!

For now to white the red was changed! and red became the white!

When cherries burst, they show their stone; when her lips part, behold!

Two rows of teeth, as bright as pearls or ivory, they unfold!

And when the tunic fell aside with the pulsation strong,

Up from the lovely damsel’s breast a pair of rose-buds sprung!

Then she awoke, and with her hand those treasures sought to veil;

But strict their duty to fulfil the parted fingers fail.

Now rising from her couch she flies, as nimble as a roe,

To where a fountain’s limpid stream adown the rock doth flow:

She bathes her cheek, her large dark eyes and eke her snow-white arms

A genial glow, unfelt before, the favour’d fountain warms.

In order not to lose its strength, between the rocks it ran

Fermenting, and a source of health became to suff’ring man:

The grot with crutches was hung round; the lame, who hither come,

No longer need their crutches’ aid, to gain their native home.

The blind too, who had lifted up their eyelids oft in vain,

Found, when they drank the holy wave, the power of sight again:

This caused much marvel; all mankind this silver stream adore;

But it from Gerda’s youth derived its wonder-working power.

She takes out from a case a comb of burnish’d gold so rare,

And with her fingers white divides her glossy raven hair:

She combs her locks; they glisten bright; what pleasure they impart

To love-sick Frey! he felt each spark; they melted in his heart.

She wreath’d a band of twisted hair around her forehead high,

Adorn’d with sapphires blue, which shone with wondrous brilliancy:

She then put on a costly robe of asbest silver white;

The border of the robe was hemm’d with garnets rare and bright.

A milk-tub made of polish’d deal he saw her take up now,

And to the flow’ry mead repair, to milk her brindled cow:

In clover deep there grazing stood the cow with crumpled horn;

I’ th’ middle of the meadow spread its blossom the black thorn.

She sat down on the clover green, and with her fingers neat

Under the cow she fix’d the pail, and grasp’d the swelling teat;

While the milk foam’d, the beast to stare with much indifference seem’d:

“O thou cold-hearted stupid cow!” thus Asa Frey exclaim’d.

His look the graceful Jotun nymph now follow’d ev’rywhere;

He sigh’d: “I ne’er before beheld a maid so wondrous fair.”

His words she heard, but innocence dwell’d in her radiant eye,

And intellect was deeply stamp’d upon her forehead high.

Her cheek a glow unusual felt; bewitchingly she smiled;

With piety and steady faith was fill’d her bosom mild:

He saw her then sit down to spin, and much admired the zeal,

With which her younger sisters all she taught to turn the wheel.

Her arms around her much-loved sire with tenderness she flung;

She smooth’d his beard, and ’gainst the wall his bow and quiver hung:

When from the forest home he came, she piled the hearth with logs;

And in the milk put many a slice of bread to feed his dogs.

Heath-cocks, wild ducks, and partridges upon the dresser lie:

No more they now the thrushes’ song disturb with piercing cry:

The hare too, who such speed had shown, how changed! with legs stretch’d out,

Now stiff and cold he lies, while blood drips from his mangled throat.

Now Gerda took from out a case a diamond of great worth,

The like was never seen before i’ th’ mountains of the north,

For if into the darkest room ’twas brought i’ th’ hour of night,

And placed upon the hearth, it shed around a dazzling light.

Now with her apron round her waist the giant-maiden stands,

The fire fierce burning hardens not her delicate white hands;

Her breast lost not its lily hue; her cheek was not more brown;

That she was giant-born, could all infer from that alone.

Towards evening to her father’s house came giants old and young,

To drain the bowl, and pass the night in revelry and song:

Some stand on hoofs of horse; while some horns on their forehead bear;

Others have beards of goat; the rest a loftier nature share.

For every one is well aware, that of the giant race

There must be many tribes distinct, of unlike form and face;

With human bodies some combine the head of wolf or bear;[63]

Some dwell in subterranean caves; some in the forest drear:

Others with human visage graced the Asar’s type recall;

They war upon the gods, ’tis true, but that comes from their fall:

Though not endow’d with heavenly power, magic they understand;

In woollen oft like peasants clad they wander through the land.

Of this last race was Gerda fair: her sire would oft invite

The wild Hrimthusser[64] to his board; she view’d them all with slight.

“Gerda’s in truth a handsome girl, ’tis pity she’s so cold:”

This was remark’d by Horse-leg young, and eke by Goat-beard old.

Against her robe they rubb’d themselves; they pinched her arms and thighs;

At this the Jotun damsel blush’d with anger and surprize.

“If ye cannot behave yourselves,” said she in threat’ning tone,

“I’ll instantly retire, and leave ye here to sup alone.”

Of beauty with good sense allied so powerful is the charm,

The sturdy giants felt ashamed, and swore they meant no harm:

She fill’d their cups with foaming ale, and gave them savoury food;

But when their jokes obscene and coarse the giant carles renew’d,

She kiss’d her sire, and sought her bower: there stood she all alone,

And look’d out at the wide expanse, and gazed upon the moon:

She sigh’d with longing, but for what, she could not rightly tell;

She felt so warm, that from her breast she doff’d the silken veil.

The moon benignant shone; it seem’d towards earth its course to lower,

And sent strong rays of light within the lovely Gerda’s bower:

She thought it was the sun of night, the silver-helm-clad moon,

But it was Asa-Frey himself peeping from Hlidskialf’s throne.

Now when, by sleep oppress’d, her limbs upon the couch she laid,

Frey wish’d a thousand times good night to the bewitching maid.

Descending then from Hlidskialf’s tower, he strait began to rove.

Like dreamer in the midnight hour, towards Freya’s beechen grove.

Towards Freya’s grove the love-sick god pensive pursued his way:

Its glories at Iduna’s rape became of frost the prey;

The leaves all lay in yellow heaps the wither’d trunks around;

The silver brook, once used to flowers, now flint-stones only found.

And now throughout the grove resounds the tempest’s awful yell!

Scared by the shock, the rain-drops bright from the dry branches fell!

So much had love absorb’d his thoughts, when this the god perceiv’d,

He thought each branch upon the trees, like him enamour’d, griev’d.

The howling of the storm amongst the trees with joy he hailed;

It much resembled, as he thought, the sighs his breast exhaled:

He knew not it was Skada’s self, that through the forest blew

Behind her cloud: the whole wide world appear’d to him as new.

How dreadful was the change! now seem’d Heimkringlas dead indeed,

Since from its native soil was torn the life-renewing reed!

But it was not Iduna’s form, that Frey long’d to embrace,

But thee, o Gerda! scion fair of Jotun’s swarthy race.

As thus he sat immers’d in thought, sudden his eye survey’d

His sister Freya; there she stood in linen white array’d,

With silver ringlets, like a dame in the decline of life,

Who on her beauty’s vanish’d spring looks back with inward grief.

She heard her brother’s plaintive sigh. “Unfortunate,” she said:

“Why didst thou Hlidskialf’s tower ascend? hath magic turn’d thy head?

Were I in all my glory now a Disa, as before,

In the dark vales of Jotunheim naught would avail my power.

“And if it could, would Odin e’er permit Frey to espouse

A giantess? hath he not long for Eir reclaim’d thy vows?

The Disa, who when Idun fair in Valhall takes her seat.

Gives health to all the Asar’s blood with liquor from the beet.”

“Odin cannot compel my choice,” her brother answer’d sore,

“E’en if he still possess’d his strength and glory, as before:

Giants to slay Thor boasts the power; but not to quench the flame,

Which burns impetuous in my heart for the fair mountain dame!”

Thus the fraternal pair conversed, and shared each other’s grief;

But Freya breath’d the deepest sigh, despairing of relief.

She said: “My dearest brother! thee the future may console;

But as for me, no hope remains to sooth my anguish’d soul.

“For he, who hath not yet possessed what he desires, may still

Hope to obtain it; time one day may on his efforts smile:

But he, who, which he once enjoy’d, hath lost the darling bliss,

Looks from a height, and views below a fathomless abyss!

“Alas! a Vaner I’m no more;” thus sigh’d despairing Frey;

“E’en were I handsome as before, when Idun’s fruit was nigh,

Still vanish’d is my peace of mind; no longer I’m the same;

Nerveless and weak I feel; and Lok, the traitor Lok’s to blame.”

While Frey thus reasons, lo! a change[65] strikes his astonish’d sight

The sun dispels all mist and fog! day follows upon night!

The frost dissolves in genial dew! azure becomes the sky!

And in a whirlwind from the grove the wither’d branches fly!

The trees stood full of buds! these swell’d! flowers blossom’d forth! and lo!

Freya now feels a pressure strange before her heart! below

She casts a hasty glance, and views with pleasure and surprize

The rose-buds on her breast again with youthful fullness rise.

Frey gazed upon the brook; of late slowly it crept ’midst stones,

But now through banks of violets blue with rapid course it runs:

The spot, where grew a noisome weed, now odours sweet exhales;

He look’d; and in its place, behold! a rose the air regales!

Now on each other gazed the pair with mutual ecstacy;

Of all the females in the world the handsomest was she:

In him she view’d the paragon of males with rose-crown’d brow,

And had she ne’er felt love before, she would have felt it now.

A clapping loud of wings was heard: they look’d, and with delight

Beheld the stork, who with his mate had homeward wing’d his flight:

They had been far in southern climes[66], the swarthy tribes among;

What could they not relate, had they the power to use their tongue?

The stork now sought his clay-built nest all in the beechen grove:

Again over the daisied mead the cattle grazing rove:

And bursting from his tomb, soon as the sun resumed his power,

The butterfly each flower caress’d, himself a living flower,

The cold dissolves, while breezes mild and gentle fan the air:

The genial warmth was felt by Frey and by his sister fair:

They marvel much, and listen; on each other gaze, and sigh:

Hark! tones resound from Valaskialf; they were the tones of joy.

Such now is the good news he brings, he well deserves the name.

Soon as he saw them, loud he call’d to Frey and Freya: Ho!

Idun to Valhall is return’d; ended is all our woe!

When these glad tidings met their ear, delight they both express’d,

And flew to Valhall to partake of Odin’s mid-day feast:

Great was the joy and revelry; each Asa swell’d with pride,

When Idun sat at the right hand of Odin, like a bride.

Before her stands the golden vase that holds the sacred fruit,

From which the gods the purple bloom of youth and health recruit;

Next to Iduna Bragur sits; his eyes with constant gaze

Devour her charms: thus from the sun the sun-flower drinks the rays.

Frigga the bounteous mother smiled: the Earth, deliver’d now,

A wreath of flowers and ears of corn had sent to grace her brow:

She carves Sâhrimner’s roasted flesh, and sends the slices round

By a young nymph, whose temples shine with golden fillet crown’d.

’Twas Fulla, Frigga’s handmaid. Gna, who joys to mount the steed,

Hofvarpur hight, for every guest pours out delicious mead:

When bearing round the brimming horns the bright Valkyrior move,

The charms of those attendants fair inspire each god with love.

A seat by Odin’s dexter hand just between him and Eir

Remain’d unoccupied; ’twas meant for Freya and for Freyr:[68]

By Thor his consort Sif was placed; the warlike god was seen

Oft on the shoulders of his wife his awful front to lean.

Next them sat Heimdal; when his eyes Freya and Frey behold,

Smiling he draws his lip aside, and shows his tooth of gold:

So sharp his ears, he hears wool grow and grasses upwards shoot,

And well he knew what in the grove those two had talk’d about.

Next to Heimdaller Gefion sat, the proud shield-bearing maid;

But naught avail’d to gain her heart the courtship that he paid;

Like rose-bud just about to burst blooming and fresh her hue;

Yet with indifference profound doth she love’s pastime view.

All the young maidens who, uncrown’d by Freya and by love,

By death are stricken, refuge find in Gefion’s holy grove:

Here they converse and oft in sport around the meadow run,

When cold and sharp the weather feels, and clouds obscure the sun.

Their greatest pleasure is to view each plant and flow’ret grow;

But in this grove no rose is pluck’d; no garlands bind their brow;

The fountain, where they love to bathe, is shielded well from sight

Profane, by a thick hedge; secure they sleep the long long night.

Yet it is whisper’d, when the moon shines forth, their thoughts on love

Will sometimes dwell; oft stolen looks they cast towards Freya’s grove:

But no one may such thoughts indulge, Gefion is so severe,

No male, not e’en a little boy, dare in her grove appear.

In front of her a goddess sat, whose temper’s diff’rent mould

With that of Gefion contrast forms, as heat compared with cold:

’Twas gentle Siofna, whose blue eyes with love and softness beam,

’Tis she who fills the heart of youth with the first pleasing dream.

Clad in a vest of muscle-shell, with crown of sea-weed green,

Sat Ægir, Ocean’s king: he drank out of a conque marine.

Next to him sat his consort Ran, with temper given to strife:

The timid Disar view with dread Ægir’s ill-favour’d wife.

Harsh-featured was her face, her look malignant, ne’er was she

So joyous, as when vessels sunk in the wide-yawning sea:

She dwells in Ocean’s deepest cave: seldom to Valhall came:

With pain in their bright choir enroll’d the Asar view’d her name.

With th’ Asa who sat next to her she form’d a contrast wide;

They seem’d the images of love and hatred side by side:

Twas Balder, who with youthful bloom all renovated shone:

The Disar all cast looks of love on Odin’s fair-hair’d son.

His light gold tresses, parted, gleam’d over his forehead bright;

His brows resembled just the flower “the brows of Balder” hight:

His aspect’s majesty divine no language can impart;

Where’er he turn’d his eyes, their glance went deep into the heart.

The guardian of a secret grave confided to his care,

For which the world no language hath, nor mortal clay an ear,

Such Balder seem’d; spite of his mild and gentle soul, I trow,

If he but cast a glance on Thor, with reverence Thor must bow.

Such softness with such strength combined no Asa boasts but he;

Spite of his blithesome brow, it bears the stamp of sovereignty:

It could appease the wrath of Ran; on him she loved to gaze:

Then smiled she like a wave, on which a star benignant plays.

Mother of pearl and coral bright upon the board she laid:[69]

To Nanna, Balder’s consort, she presented them, and said:

“Whatever mortal thou mayst chuse to rescue from the grave

Beneath the billow, with these gifts thou shall have power to save.”

To Nanna sat just opposite Lofna with flower-crown’d brow:

When with thy dreams two youthful hearts, O gentle Siofna! glow,

Then Lofna, when invoked, to sooth the lover’s pain delights,

And spite of every obstacle, the amorous pair unites:

And if this union be denied on earth, affliction’s vale,

Aloft she bears them on her wings to Freya’s blissful hall.

Nanna she gave to Balder’s arms; and pitying Signe’s fate,

Burst Hagbarth’s noose, and from the tree bore him to Folkvang’s gate.

Now Hædur, fumbling through the hall, cheerless and sullen goes;

He mutters words in Vidar’s ears, the god with the thick shoes:

Stone blind is Hædur, though robust, the sovereign of the night;

A tunick black as jet he wears with silver stars bedight.

The secrets of eternity are all to Vidar known;

Their stern unflinching guardian he, amongst the gods alone,

Ne’er opes his mouth; his shoulders are like Aukthor’s, broad and strong,

And strong like Vidar is the man who can restrain his tongue.

Two gods, whose qualities on earth are seldom found allied,

Eternally in Odin’s hall are seated side by side:

Resistless is their power combined; all view them with respect;

Loder, the god of beauty reigns; Hænir, of intellect.

The next to Hænir on the bench the serious Var appears,

Stern awe-inspiring goddess, who the rod of conscience bears;

She hears the oaths of all mankind: whoever breaks his vow,

To Nastrond down she hurls the wretch, to endless wail and woe.

Near her were many vacant seats; Forsete just and stern,

Var’s firmest prop, will not so soon to Valaskialf return:

As soon as Idun was released, down to the earth he hied,

As judge supreme by Urda’s wave the causes to decide.

Saga Forsete’s footsteps close with graver and with shield

Had follow’d, to record in runes whatever time reveal’d:

But every morning her return the anxious gods await,

To hear her ’fore Alfader’s throne her narrative relate.

But Niord, to Skada married, soon the ill-match’d union rued:

She bade him to the nuptial-couch on Dovre’s summit rude;

In every corner of the rock the eddying whirlwind roars,

While Skada’s brother o’er the sea, the tall Vandhose, soars:

His arms cling to the sky; his legs drop dangling o’er the wave;

He laughs; the seamen at his sight are fill’d with terror grave:

Now all at once, to water changed, he gushes down amain.

And all he meets in his career drives headlong down to Ran.

Now Skada with dishevell’d hair from Dovre’s cliffs arose;

She grasp’d her lance, to deal around dire wounds and mortal blows:

“Up! come to help me! bridegroom dear!” thus call’d she out to Niord:

The god turns pale with anger, when he hears her voice abhorr’d.

But luck would have it, Idun fair was on that very morn

Replaced in Valhall; at her sight Niord felt his strength return;

Like tempest from the south he rose, and vanquish’d the east-wind,

And Skada fled to hide herself drear Finnmark’s rocks behind.

Lately at Garderik she put in force a strange resolve;

With fragments of sharp ice, which should not on the tongue dissolve,

She fill’d her lungs; with these she sought the ambient air to freeze,

But Niord the mischief soon dispell’d with flower-scented breeze.

At length they peace conclude: nine days was Niord to wear the crown,

Healthy and free the north remain, subject to Niord alone:

Skada the three succeeding days might march with flag unfurl’d:

Thus with alternate change do Good and Evil rule the world.

Ere Niord to Skada was allied, the north was far more mild;

Often with fire from Muspelheim the northern air he fill’d:

But longer now the mists prevail, so doth the grim east-wind;

For no one boasts the power to tame Skada’s malignant mind.

While Skada slumbers in her cave, ’tis Niord’s peculiar care

In arches o’er the verdant earth to mould the light-blue air;

And where are more delightful woods and meadows to be found,

Than those of Denmark, when the lays of nightingales resound?

Niord weeps with rage, while Skada fell lays waste his rich domain,

But changed his precious tears become to fecundating rain;

When rain descends, it never fails to damp the tempest’s wings;

Thus ever ’gainst his consort’s spells some antidote he brings.

From Vingolf Niord was absent, when the mead was handed round,

For while Forsete sat as judge by Urda’s wave profound,

He clear’d the air from vapours foul: where’er extends his power,

Healthy and free each peasant breathes, sickness prevails no more.

Not far from Balder Snotra sat with mild and graceful look:

She blush’d, while from a silver dish small cakes her fingers took;

In gesture, movement, and in speech her gentle grace she blends,

And often to the poet’s lay her soft expression lends.

Hlyn too was there, whom Frigga sends to guard the race of men

From danger, when dark, Surtur spreads his snares o’er marsh and fen.

Next Uller sat the archer good, with bow across his loins:

Instead of war, to end all feuds by duel he enjoins.

The Asar thus in Valaskialf their joyous vigils keep,

Which on the arches vast of heaven rests its foundation deep;

Each azure-colour’d cupola on columns doth repose;

Straight as the forest’s finest fir each marble column rose.

Bucklers and swords with silver hilts around these columns shone.

Now Bragur strikes the golden harp, and in pathetic tone

He sings the danger that the gods so lately had incurr’d,

And while he sang, Iduna’s cup pass’d round the festive board.

Now far beyond Valhalla’s roof ascends each swelling note,

And melts away towards Hlidskialf’s tower far in the air remote:

E’en as the loftiest pine in height exceeds the humblest flower,

Thus Ervin’s minster is eclips’d by Hlidskialf’s awful tower.[70]

Now Frey and Freya take their seat: then joins the banquet Tyr,

Brother of Thor; no danger doth that valiant stripling fear:

Behind Valfader’s chair he stands, while lasts the sumptuous feast,

And waits upon him like a page, in scarlet kirtle drest.

But still insensible to joy and mindful of her woes

Sigh’d beauteous Freya; copious tears bedew’d her cheeks of rose:

Ah! what is beauty? (thus she thought) and why should it return,

If from the heart the heart’s beloved remain for ever torn?

While Freya thus indulged in grief, Odin, the mighty lord,

His courier Hermod call’d; he came, and, charged with Odin’s word,

Went out again, but reappear’d, quick as a waterfall,

And Freya’s daughter, little Hnos, he led into the hall.

The little creature smiling stood behind her mother’s chair,

Over her shoulders delicate stream’d down her well comb’d hair:

The mother wept still more; her child close in her arms she prest;

A flood of golden tears humect the lovely Freya’s breast.

See Odin now the god sublime quick from the table rise!

To Hermod whispers he a word with anger in his eyes:[71]

Straight Hermod vanish’d from the hall, arm’d with his magic wand:

Not half so swift the falcon flies, launch’d by the hunter’s hand.

O that Alfader had not mark’d the beauteous Freya’s grief!

Alas! how anger’s haste destroys all prospect of relief!

If Odur could have seen, methinks, his consort fair once more,

Repentance’ sting he would have felt, and lov’d her, as before.

But now to marble statue changed, what can he feel? ’Tis true,

His eyes wide open stand, but naught those eyes have power to view:

No animation from the grapes doth wretched Odur prove

That deck his brow; on feet he stands, but those feet cannot move.

Now Freya must for ever grieve, and her own grief impart

To other hearts; henceforward love was mix’d with painful smart:

Happy, as handsome, Hnos became, as she advanced in size;

She brings delight and joy to love; but Freya tears and sighs.