CANTO XVI.

THE NUPTIALS OF SKADA.

While captive pined Iduna, Valhalla seem’d a grave;[60] 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.