CANTO XVIII.

JOY IN VALHALLA.

Skirnir the messenger of Frey now running towards them came:[67] 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.