CANTO XVII.

THE AMOUR OF FREY.

A spacious chamber met his eyes hewn in the cavern grey; Therein reclining on a couch a beauteous damsel lay: In slumbers light indulged the maid so innocent and meek; The blush of morning tinged with red her alabaster cheek.

Careless reposed her graceful arm across her forehead bright, Her raven locks in ringlets twined between her fingers white; Her small white hand quite buried seem’d i’ th’ streaming coal-black hair, Thus doth a lamb behind the leaves of a dark bush appear.

E’en as a serpent coiled within the lily’s chalice rests, Thus curl the silken jetty locks adown her swelling breasts: As loving as two sisters kiss, thus kiss the lips of rose; But proudly from each other turn away the breasts, like foes.

Tow’ring the slender waist above, each claims preeminence; But, as between two rain-drops, none could see the difference. Frey gazes on the rosy lips, and on the breast of snow, And quite forgets Iduna’s loss, and all Valhalla’s woe.

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.