238 In crystal halls his head Rears Ægir, Han’s stem spouse; A silver helmet red With coral guards his brows; His beard, of ocean weeds, His spear with amber deck’d, And pearls, but shew he needs, And the proud waves are check’d. The emblem of his sway When lifts the watery god— Quick sinks the raging sea, Obedient to his rod; His pearly muscle throne, In Hlesey may be seen; Has daughters nine by Ran, Three are the billows green.                             Oehlenschläger. The description of Ægir’s feast, as given in the Elder Edda, is one of the most curious and characteristic relics of Scandinavian antiquity, whether considered as illustrative of the religious belief, or of the manners of the time in which it was written, it could not therefore with propriety have been omitted in a work of this nature. The coarseness, however, of the original, has obliged the author at times to use a great latitude of translation, and, in some instances, where the grossness would not be veiled, to have recourse to the Latin version. With this caution we shall proceed to give an account of

239 ÆGIR’S FEAST. Ægir once made a journey to Asgard, on which occasion the gods received him with great distinction, and gave a feast in his honour. Ægir in return invited them all to an entertainment, of which an account has been given in the sixth chapter. Having obtained through Thor’s assistance, as there described, Hymir’s great kettle, he brewed in it a sufficient quantity of ale, and again invited the gods to a feast. Odin and Frigga were there; Sif, Thor’s wife (Thor himself was engaged otherwise); Bragi and Iduna; Tyr; Niord and Skada; Freyr and Freya; Vidar, Odin’s son; Loke also was present, and Beygver and Beyla, Freyr’s attendants, and a great many Elves and Aser. The banquet was very brilliant, gold was made use of for lights, and the drink passed about of itself. The guests particularly praised the alertness of Ægir’s two attendants, Fimaseng and Elder, which exciting Loke’s spleen, he maliciously slew Fimaseng. The Aser, on this, rose with one accord, and drove him from the hall, but in a short time he returned, and meeting Elder addressed him as follows:

240             LOKE. Tell me this, Elder! Before you set your foot A step farther— Of what do the Aser Converse within Over their drink?             ELDER. Of their weapons, Of their warlike deeds, Speak the holy Gods:— Amongst the Aser and Elves Who sit within, No one is in speech your friend.             LOKE. I will enter Into Ægir’s hall, To hear their babble. Hatred and scorn I bear To the sons of the Aser, And will mingle evil with their mead.             ELDER. Know, that if thou enterest The hall of Ægir To see the feast, Arid on the mild Gods To pour abuse, They will turn it on thy head.

241             LOKE. Know thyself, Elder! That if we two Exchange sharp words, I in answer Shall have far the better, If thou speakest too much. On this Loke went into the hall, and when the guests saw who it was they remained silent. Loke said: Thirsty cometh Loptur From a long journey To this hall; To ask of the Aser That they will give him a draught Of the clear mead. Why are ye silent, ye Gods! So swoln out That ye are not able to speak? Either give me seat and place In your company, Or bid me go my way.             BRAGI. Seat and place to thee In their company The Aser will never give; For they know well Whom they should bid To the holy banquet.

242             LOKE. Rememberest thou, Odin! How, in the morning of time, We mingled blood together? Then didst thou promise that never Thou wouldst taste of drink Unless we both were bidden.             ODIN. Stand up, Vidar! And let the sire of the wolf Take his place; Lest Loke should fall on us, With words of abuse, Here in Ægir’s hall. Then Vidar rose up and poured out a cup for Loke, who before he drank of it thus spake: Health to the Aser, Health to the Asynier, And to all the holy Gods, One alone excepted, Bragi, who sitteth Upon the bench above.             BRAGI. A horse and a sword I give to thee— Thus doth Bragi offer— If only with the Aser Thou stirrest not up strife: Make not the Gods wroth with thee.

243             LOKE. Horse and weapons Both, O Bragi! Thou canst well spare; Of Aser and Elves, Who are present here, No one shunneth fight And steel as thou.             BRAGI. I know that if I were Without Ægir’s hall As I am now within it— In my hand I would bear your head, And so repay your lie.             LOKE. Thou art bold on thy seat— This becometh thee not— Bragi! pride of the bench!1 If thou art angry, Go out to the fight, A brave man doth not calculate. 1 Loke here speaks ironically, and calls Bragi pride of the bench, either as a reproach for his sedentary life, or for his love of feasts and drinking-bouts, at which the Scalds had always the high place.

244             IDUNA. Bragi! I conjure thee For our parents’ sake, For our children’s sake, That thou wilt not exchange Words of scorn with Loke Here in Ægir’s hall.             LOKE. Hold thy peace, Iduna! Thou of all women Lustest the most after men— Since the time when Thou passionately didst embrace Thy brother’s murderer.2             IDUNA. Loke, to thee I speak not in scorn Here in Ægir’s hall; I do but still Bragi, Heated with drink, I would not that ye two should strive.             GEFIONE. What will ye here, Ye Aser twain! 2 The story to which this alludes is now lost. Iduna was the daughter of the dwarf Ivalldur, whose sons made Sif’s hair, &c.

245 Exchange rancorous words? Doth not Loptur know That cunning hath ensnared him, And that misfortune is at hand.3 Although the interference of Gefione, the virgin goddess, cold and severe, the Diana of the north, to whom all maids who had never known love on earth repaired after death, was natural and in place, since being possessed of the gift of prophecy she knew what must be the result if this indecent altercation was persevered in—the reply of Loke was an insult of the grossest nature, so outrageous as to call up Odin himself.             ODIN. Thou art mad, Loke, And without understanding, That thou stirrest Gefione to wrath; For I trow that she knoweth The destinies of all Even as I myself.             LOKE. Keep silence, Odin! Never didst thou fairly share The fight with warriors; Often hast thou given the victory 3 Gefione had the gift of prophecy, and was said with eight magic oxen to have ploughed the island of Zealand out of Sweden.

246 Where thou shouldst not, To the least valiant.             ODIN. How knowest thou if I gave To the least brave the victory! Eight winters wert thou Beneath the earth— A milch-cow and a woman— Engendering monsters— Such is the part of a vile fellow. Loke’s answer is unintelligible, being, like Odin’s remark, in allusion to some circumstance, with which we are not now acquainted. Frigga interfered, to prevent the revealing of secrets unknown to the rest of the Aser.             FRIGGA. It becometh you not So to declare Your destinies; What ye two Aser did In the morning of time— What is pass’d should not be ripp’d up.             LOKE. Tace tu, Frigga! Tu es Fiorgyni gnata; Et semper virosa fuisti. Quando Veum et Vilium, Tibi vidreris uxor! Ambos in sinum suscipiebas. Edda Sœmundar.

247 Loke’s first reply to Frigga was little less insulting than that to Gesione, and so excited the indignation of the mother of the gods that she exclaimed,             FRIGGA. O! that I had but here, In Ægir’s hall, A son like to Baldur;4 Never shouldst thou depart From amongst the Aser; A sword should stop thy venom.             LOKE. Will’st thou, Frigga, That I should address thee More bitter words; I will procure That thou shalt never again See Baldur ride to hall.             FREYA. Thou art mad, Loke! Thus to give vent To foul and false railing. Frigga knoweth all things Past and to come— Though she revealeth nought.             LOKE. Silence, Freya! Right well I know thee, 4 Baldur was Frigga’s favourite son.

248 Thou art not free from spot. Of the Aser and Elves Who are here assembled, Each has enjoy’d thy favours.             FREYA. False is thy tongue, The day will come When it will cause thine own woe; Aser and Asynier Are wroth with thee, Thou shalt depart hence with shame.             LOKE. Hold thy peace, Freya! Mingler of poisons, Full of evil art thou; By magic arts, Lustful goddess, Thou hast drawn thy brother to thy side. This brings up Njord the father of Freyr; and Freya’s imputation on Loke as well as Loke’s retort are so gross, that we must refer those who desire to read them, to the Edda of Sæmund.             LOKE. Keep silence, Njord! From the east hither Thou wert sent, a hostage, to the Gods. Hymer’s daughters employed Thy mouth for a vile purpose.5 5 The passage will not bear a literal translation.

249             NJORD. It is my pride, That long ere I came hither, A hostage to the Gods, I could boast a son Whom none hate, And who is held the prince of the Aser.6             LOKE. Cease now, Njord! Lower thine arrogance, I will no longer deny That with thy sister Thou hast begotten a son No better than thyself.             TYR. Freyr is the noblest Of all the Gods In the kingdom of the Aser. Never hath he caused sorrow To woman or maiden, But freeth us all from bonds.             LOKE. Hold thy peace, Tyr! In vain hast thou sought To use both hands Since the time that Fenris Bit off thy left hand. 6 Freyr.

250             TYR. I lack a hand, Thou, an honourable name; Sorrow to him who bath lost such, Nor has the wolf much to boast; In bonds must he languish Until the world passeth away. In reply Loke as usual asserts that Tyr’s wife was in love with him, and had given him substantial proofs of her love.             FREYR. The wolf lieth howling At the mouth of the river Until the powers shall perish— Thou causer of strife! So shalt thou be bound, Unless thou straight holdest thy peace.             LOKE. For gold didst thou purchase Gymer’s daughter, And so soldest thy sword— But when Muspell’s sons Shall ride over the dark wood, Know’st thou not how thou must fight.             BEYGVER. If I were as nobly born As Ingun’s Freyr, And had so lordly a castle,

251 I would crush That evil raven, And pound his bones to marrow.             LOKE. What little creature is that7 Whom I see wagging his tail, And, like a spunger, snapping what he can? Thou wilt still be hanging At Freyr’s ears When thou art not labouring at the mill.             BEYGVER. My name is Beygver, Gods and men Call me the rapid, Here am I come with honour— For the whole race of Odin Assemble gladly to the feast.             LOKE. Hold thy tongue, Beygver Never hast thou succeeded properly In serving men their meals; Thou hiddest thyself Under the straw beds When warriors were fighting.             HEIMDALL. Loke! thou art drunk, And hast no longer any sense; 7 Beygver was a Light-Elf and attendant on Freyr the god of the sun.

252 Wilt thou never be quieted! He must be overcome With drink continually, Who himself remembers not what he sayeth.             LOKE. Peace now, Heimdall! In the morning of time to thee Was destined a hateful lot— With a wet back Shalt thou ever remain, And watch as the warder of the Gods.8             SKADA. Thou amusest thyself, Loke! But not long shalt thou be free At will to indulge thy spleen: On the sharp points of the rock With the bowels of thy ice-cold son Soon shall the gods bind thee.             LOKE. Know thou, though the gods With the bowels of my ice-cold son Should bind me to the rocks; Yet first and fiercest was I To give Thiasse9 his death wound When we entrapp’d him. 8 In allusion to Heimdairs post on the rainbow as warder of Asgard. 9 Thiasse was Skada’s father, vid. ch. 3.

253             SKADA. Know—if thou first and fiercest wast To give the death-wound When Thiasse was entrapp’d, From my mountains And waters, in return Thou shalt receive cold counsel.             LOKE. Gentler were thy words To Laufeya’s son When thou offeredst me thy love, Such things should not be forgotten, When we desire with exactness To enumerate thy actions. Sif now advanced, and pouring out mead to Loke in a crystal cup, said: Hail to thee, Loke! And take the crystal cup Full of old mead. So that Sif alone, Amongst the Aser’s faultless race, Thou mayst suffer to sit in peace.             LOKE. Thou alone art— If indeed thou art— Prudent and constant against men— I know but one— So far as I believe—

254 Who acts the gallant with Hlorida’s10 wife— And that is the cunning Loke.             BEYLA. The rocks all tremble; I trow now Hlorida returns Homewards from his journey. He will teach silence To the one, who here insults All gods and men.             LOKE. Keep still, Beyla! Thou art Beygver’s wife, And full of malice. A fouler monster Ne’er came amongst the sons of the Aser Than thou—filthy slut. At this moment Thor entered—             THOR. Peace, ribald knave! My weighty hammer, Miölner, Shall stop thy tongue; The rock of thy shoulders I will strike from thy neck, And thus deprive thee of life.             LOKE. The son of earth Is now arrived— 10 Hlorida, one of Thor’s names.

255 Why dost thou rage so, Thor! Thou wilt not be so daring When thou shalt fight with the wolf, And he shall swallow the Father of Victory.11             THOR. Peace, ribald knave! Miölner, my weighty hammer, Shall stop thy tongue; I will fling thee up To the eastern corner, So that none again shall see thee.             LOKE. Of thy journeys eastwards Never, if thou art wise, Shouldst thou talk to others. Since the time, Einheriar! That thou satest in the thumb of a glove,12 And scarce trow’d, thyself, that thou wert Thor.             THOR. Peace, ribald knave! Miölner, my weighty hammer, Shall stop thy tongue; Soon shall my right hand Strike thee with Hrungner’s bane,13 So that every bone shall be broken.             LOKE. A long time yet I hope to live, 11 Odin. 12 See Thor’s journey to Jotunheim. 13 Hrungner was a giant whom Thor had killed.

256 Altho’ thou threatenest me with thy hammer. The thongs of the wallet Seemed hard to thee When thou couldst not get to Skrymer’s meat— And wert near dead with hunger.             THOR. Peace, ribald knave! Miölner, my trusty hammer, Shall stop thy tongue, Hrungner’s bane Shall send thee to Hel— And to the pit of the dead.             LOKE. I sang for the Aser, I sang for the sons of the Aser, What my fancy bade me; But, for thee alone Will I depart, For I know well that thou canst strike. Ægir, thou hast brewed ale, But never again Shalt thou give a feast. Over all thy possessions here May the flame play joyfully, And bum thee to the back. On this Loke changed himself into an eel, leaped into Frananger’s Foss, and escaped. The following poem, translated from Oehlenschläger, is a paraphrase of the Thrymisquida of the Elder Edda.

257 LOKE’S CUNNING. A slimy eel Loke cut through the wave. From the Thunderer’s vengeance his neck to save; The peasants, for many a league, could see How he glided and bent him so pliantly. He pass’d thro’ the monsters and wealth of the deep, Saw whales a-sporting, the kraken asleep; He swam straight to Norway, to Lindesnæss, There hid him awhile in the mud and the grass, Then, resuming his form, he sate on a rock, Like a peasant boy watching a porpus flock.      “So at Odin’s board my place I’ve lost, Nor know if a Jotun14 or Aser most: Valhalla’s pleasures for me are at end, My days with demons I now must spend: Midst thick-skull’d giants, shut out from light, Who doze like bears through their endless night, Where no sun e’er warms, no stars are seen; No spring e’er gladdens the earth with green; No music sounds through the torch-lit hall, Save the mournful splash of the waterfall. There love ne’er enters, Trolds15 know no joy But the good to harass, the fair to destroy; They dream but of treason, and strife, and blood, For a blockhead, all know, may be warrior good.      “Ne’er again As-Bragi’s song shall I hear, Nor scoff when his harp clangs false on mine ear, 14 Jotun, a giant. 15 Trolds, one of the names given to the evil spirits.

258 Nor with Diser16 talk, till their necks of snow With blushes, like heaven at evening, glow; Nor sneer at As-Odin’s silent state, Till the Aser doubt if his wit be so great. No more with gibes shall I tease As-Thor, That the God gets wrath, and the hairs in a roar. But by Farbaut, my sire, Thor has merit yet: An he had but the tithe part of Loptur’s wit Might laugh at Odin—he wearies me least, Though he chafes sometimes at my biting jest. When aloft in his car we cut through the air, I forget all envy, and malice, and care: When Hlorida’s17 thunder shook earth and sky, I thought me as great as the God, well-nigh.      “How I loved with the Diser of nothings to talk, Or with dove-eyed Fulla by moonlight to walk. Poor Fulla—I fear that her soft heart’s gone; But which of the Diser hath Loke not won.      “Sehrimner18 I’ve lost, and the mead, and the beer, And the tilting and sports of the Einheriar. Those were jovial days, ’twere vain to deny: The time fled quickly, the spirits were high; Though an Aser but half, more wise than the rest, I tasted all, knew all, and mock’d all that past.      “Their loss is greater than mine by half, From Valhalla is banish’d the mirthful laugh. The gods now yawn through the tedious day, And regret, too late, that Loptur’s away: 16 The goddesses were termed Diser. 17 A name for Thor. 18 The boar on which the Aser and Einheriar made their daily repast.

259 They’ll soon discover how little worth Is pomp unlightened by wit or mirth. Who’d bear long to feed on th’ insipid dough, Did none therein the sour leaven throw: Did the rose-stock shoot smooth as stalk of com, Twere a sorry rose with nor moss nor thorn! What’s the mid-day splendour, or court’s parade, Without humbler joys, without soothing shade!      “Let them sit with their closed hands their chins beneath, Excitement ended, their rest is death.”     Loke thus gave vent to his fever’d thought, And to hide his grief from himself e’en sought; But he could not reason away the smart, And he writhed as he spake like a wounded hart. He thought: “Could I pardon of Thor obtain, All hope of Asgard were yet not vain.” Thus, racking his brain, he paced the rock, When sudden, pausing, his brow he struck, And cried—“Thor’s hammer! ’tis done—by my life, To gain back Miblner he’d yield his wife.” Then light as a falcon away he flew To Jemvidi forest, nor once breath drew; There he found King Thrymer,19 who sate on a hill, A leathering his arrows with eagle’s quill; By his side was a quiver of sea-calf’s skin, And the moon-beam play’d on his bushy chin.     Thrym lift up his eyes and, of Loke aware, Cried, “Valhal’s jester! what, thou come here! Doth Loke the Aser thus condescend, In his greatness, to think upon Giant-land! 19 Thrymer or Thrym, a powerful giant, who stole Thor’s lammer whilst the God was asleep, and refused to restore it antil Freya was brought to him.

260 Hast fidlen in disgrace? have the gods turn’d thee out? Hard treatment this for their jester and scout! What brings thee here like a skulking fox, Do the Aser begrudge us our barren rocks?” With a cringing boldness, Loke sate him down By the Giant’s side, on a moss-grown stone: “The joys of Asgard are dearly bought, And were’t not thy good, more than mine I sought, Its hated frontier, long since, I’d crost, And a spy in the Aser’s camp you’d lost; Who knows to cover his hate with smiles, And to turn on his foes their rancorous wiles.      “That my friends suspect me, I deeply feel; But offer myself for my kinsmen’s weal. Long, much, I’ve suffered, in body and mind, But in conscience clear my reward I find.”     Thus, weeping, the arch dissembler spoke: Then Thrym loud laugh’d, and, with scoffing look, He cried—“Wilt giants with tears ensnare, As boys catch blackbirds with berries and hair? Thou weep’st, like the monster of Egypt’s flood, When he’s plotting murder and thirsts for blood: What wilt thou here? weathercock, out with the lie, Or, by Utgard, thou’lt rue thou cam’st hither to spy.”      “Ay! he well may threaten,” Loke fawning spake; “At whose name e’en th’ Aser in Valhal quake. Whilst Thor was sleeping, his hammer you’ve ta’en, And hid it deep down in the ocean with Ran: Though none but the Thunderer can Miölner wield, ’Tis a noble prize, and good ransom will yield.”      “What ransom?” cried Thrymer, with louring brow; “Can Thor boast treasures like mine, I trow? What need I of jewels, or gold or gear? True; of Diser Freya much praise I hear:

261 Of her dark blue eyes, and her golden hair, Coral lips, and skin as the lily fair; Her mouth like rose-bud, its silvery sound The flute’s soft music; arms white and round: Such ransom might tempt me—complexions brown, And hair like the raven, I love not, I own, Nor the swarthy beauties our mountains afford. Bring hither the daughter of wealthy Njord, And the self same day I’ll give back to Thor His trusty Miölner, as Freya’s dower.      “Did not Freyr tall Gerda take to his bed? Then why should not Thrym Freyr’s sister wed?      “With this my resolve to your master hie. Twelve leagues ‘neath the ocean doth Miölner lie, Nor ever shall Thor his hammer see, Unless Njord’s daughter its ransom be.”     This said—he stamp’d, and there straight appeared A short, thick dwarf, who on Loptur leer’d, And closed with a loud laugh the mountain’s cleft, That Loke in darkness alone was left.     Then Loke laugh’d too—that the mountains rang— So laughs the hyaena, and whets his fang; Huge owls fell down from the trees for fear, And Ran look’d out o’er the deep to hear? The serpent writhed, and the affrighted flood High over the mountains in white foam stood: The wolf bark’d hoarse, and his chain ’gan shake, When, with ire concentred, thus Loptur spake: “I hate ye all!—men, giants, and Gods! I hate and defy ye! nor fear your odds. Ye reject me, idiots! but soon shall leam The power of him whom ye madly spurn. I’ll find me a way to vengeance yet, Though the world once more into chaos split.

262 And the time will come, ye shall weep too late The hour ye waken’d Loke’s deadly hate.      “But I know your power, proud spirits of air, And the giants’ strength, and will act with care; If but once my cunning great Thor can lead To act like a Nidding20—nought else I need.”     But, spite of his hatred, Loke did not dare, Unbidden, to Asgard at once to repair: So he stole through the woods, to the beech-hill’s brow, At even, as the boor drove homeward his plow; ’Twas where a spring, through the white sand prest, Sprang, bubbling, from Hertha’s parent breast; Near where Leira stood, and where since King Ro Built a spacious palace, as legends show.21 20 Nidding, a term of contempt implying cowardice, falsehood and baseness of every kind,—in like manner remarks Dr. Percy, as the lye in modern days. He quotes a passage from Matthew Paris, shewing that W. Rufus, having occasion to draw together a sudden body of forces, sent word to such as held of him in fee that those who did not repair to his standard should be deemed Nithing, upon which, esteeming nothing more disgraceful than this ignominious epithet, they thronged to him in great numbers. Dr. Percy shews that the term continued long in use in England, but in a less contumelious sense, and cites the following lines from an old MS. poem between the reigns of Edward III and Edward IV. Looke thou be kind and curteous aye Of meate and drinke be never Nithing. 21 Where still stands the town of Roskilde, or Ro’s-spring. The spring exists still in all its purity. Leira was the ancient capital of Denmark.

263 There small elves and felines were wont to play Whilst the dew was felling, but fled the day. Once a thorn pierced Freya, a drop from the wound A small fay caught, ere it fell to ground, And shed o’er the sward—ere the morning’s dawn Thousand purple flowers breathed sweets o’er the lawn. ’Tis the elves paint the redbreast and goldfinch’s wing, And teach the thrush, blackbird, and linnet to sing. Erst the nightingale sang not, till once, in a freak, The fairy queen caught it, and, kissing its beak, E’er since with love-ditties it wearies the grove, And melts maids to love who by moonlight rove.     Freya’s ringlets are wash’d with a perfume rare, Her nymphs in Folkvangur’s bowers prepare: Once a butter-cup full was stolen by a fay, Who flew with the prize to the forest away, And pour’d it by night on die violet. But he found the fragrance for earth too great, So he took fresh dew-drops, and mix’d them up With the perfume was left in the buttercup, And scented the wild-thyme and daffodil, And cowslip, and woodbine and, loving the rill, Forget me not, floweret which maids know well, But ’twere vain all their frolics to seek to tell.     They pinch the dull shepherd, when wolves threat the flock, And wake in the morning the farmer’s cock: Hodge turns him round, with a lingering yawn, And ere the morn breaks brushes dew from the lawn. They whisper the youth where his true love’s gone, And shew the green path which she haunts alone, Or put on her form, in light dreams, the morn; But from faithless lovers they turn with scorn.     They now danced merrily round the spring, To the water-elf’s song, hand in hand, in a ring,

264 When Loke, in the form of a fire-king, stepp’d From a hollow ash tree, where to hide him he’d crept: On his black shaggy locks was a bramble crown. And his tail ’neath his blood-red robe hung down. In a trice they all vanish’d, for strife they flee, And they thought that the black elves lay hid in the tree: But when they discovered ’twas nought but Loke, They leap’d for joy, and laugh’d loud at the joke: All fairies love Loke for his tricks and his wiles, They know not the malice that lurks ’neath his smiles. They cried—“Welcome, Loptur, it long doth seem Since together we danced in the full-moon’s beam.” Quoth Loke—“Dear children, you know I love To sport with you here in your leafy grove: What hath kept me from you you soon shall learn, But, first, on the greensward let’s dance a turn.”     Then merrily round in a circle they danced, Whilst Loke’s tail, like a snake, through the long grass glanced. The spring ceased to bubble, the small birds fled, Bloated toads croak’d hoarse in their festering bed: Thrice started the elves at the death-watch’s cry: Still nought suspected of treachery.     When the youth at the feet of his true-love lies, Whilst poisonous damps from earth’s bosom rise; In each other wrapt, nought the danger they heed: Then Loke, from a dark thicket, laughs at the deed, And the pitying moon, who attests their vows, Nor t’avert his devilish malice knows; Its deadly fruits ere he wanes doth mourn, A bier with white flowers to the cold grave borne.     Now, with dancing wearied, they press’d round Loke, Who, stretch’d ’neath a huge beech, thus artful spoke: “Last-born of Assgard, of gods beloved,

265 Whom Odin, at prayer of Freya moved, Of purest æther from Muspel made, Much your friendship, now, might poor Loptur aid. By passion blinded in evil hour, Unmindful of all I to Odin’s power And th’ Aser’s bounty, ungrateful, owe; To my tongue’s keen venom I gave full flow. With tears of blood I have wept my fault; But ’twas Ægir’s liquor the madness wrought: His mead is potent, his horns are deep, When the cup quick passes the wit’s asleep; Nor God nor Diser my gall would spare, Nor fear’d e’en Alfadur himself to dare. But if Odin, moved by your prayer, relent, And Thor, with unfeign’d remorse content, Once more admit me to Asgard’s reign, I pledge me his hammer to bring again. Dire Miölner, badge of the Thunderer’s power, By dark Thrymer stolen in unguarded hour.”     The fairies promised all they could do, And on gossamer wings to Valhalla flew: There, with folded hands, and with eyes cast down, Two by two they knelt before Odin’s throne. Alfader must yield to their artless prayer, Freyr smiled, Freya’s eye was dimm’d with a tear.     Then Loke from his covert all pale they led, Who knelt, fawn’d, promised, and big tears shed, And to kiss the dust from Thor’s feet was fain, But th’ indignant god, flll’d with fierce disdain, Struck the grov’ling suppliant with force to earth, That the blood from his mouth in a stream gush’d forth. “Hence, shame on thy dastard tears,” he cried: “I can better thy crimes than thy sorrow abide.” Loke raised him up with a vengeful scowl,

266 His heart was bursting with malice foul. The blow he thought shall be dearly paid, But he hid his ire, and thus smiling said: “Not hope of pardon, though great my fault My footsteps hither alone have brought. Herald I come of love and peace, ’Tis time the rancorous wars should cease, Which gods and giants so long divide: Thrymer the tall, dark Utgard’s pride, For whom its maidens still sigh in vain, In his turn hath felt the amorous pain. Foul crimes and treasons he plots no more, But sits alone on the bleak sea-shore, Freya’s spindle,22 a-watching the live-long night, As o’er the murk waters it twinkles bright. All her beauty know—and poor Thrymer trows, Such symbol a thrifty housewife shows. He’s heard too for Oddur she sorrowed long, And thinks this of truth a presumption strong. Who for spouse departed such love can feel, Must believe that a spouse may love as well. Else what the reward for a faith so rare, And most in Freya so passing fair.     The nightingale coldly the thistle woos, But with song of fire plies the blooming rose.”     Freya smiled, and said, “This at least is plain, That Loke to himself e’er will true remain: But your errand from Thrymer we fein would hear, Your opinions on truth till a fitter time spare.”     Quoth Loke: “Fair goddess, not mine the praise, 22 With the Scandinavians Freya’s spindle was the name for the constellation called Orion’s belt.

267 ’Tis your matchless beauty Thrym’s soul can raise From its native dulness, and wit inspire Unwonted. He loves thee with manhood’s fire, And Utgard’s king, by his ardour won, Hath granted the prayer of his darling son; He hath sent me the raven-god to greet, And of Freya’s marriage at large to treat. If to Thrym’s suit Odin an ear will lend, ’Twixt evil and good all distinctions will end, All nature will blend in chaotic love: The screech-owl will pair with the turtle-dove, The cavern’s gloom with the great sun’s light, Men will talk no longer of day nor night, But a dusky twilight o’er all shall reign, Mouldy damps the bright walls of Asgard stain: Blue violets spring from the carcass foul, Warriors wield distaffs—wives empires rule; Spear-staves bear blossoms, white lilies thorns, Men lack beards, soft maidens boast beards and horns.23 What a glorious chaos—the live-long day In cavern, stuccoed with moistening clay, 23 The poet appears to have had here in view a similar passage in Shakspeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream, where the consequence of the quarrel of Oberon and Titania are thus described: “The ox hath therefore stretch’d his yoke in vain, The plowman lost his sweat, and the green corn Hath rotted ere his youth attain’d a beard. .        .        .        .        .        .        .              .        .        .        .        .        .        .         The seasons alter, hoary headed frosts, Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose, And on old Hyenas’ chin and icy crown An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds, Is, as in mockery, set: the spring, the summer, The chilling autumn, angry winter, change Their wonted liveries; and the ’maz’d world By their increase now knows not which is which.                                                     Act ii. scene 2.

268 Fair Freya shall sit on her rocky throne To solace her Thrym in his grandeur lone. Then all love shall end—but what need of love When no hate shall exist baneful passions to move! All extremes then shall vanish—the red, yellow, blue, Men no longer in Bifrost’s arch shall view, But all hues shall blend in fraternal grey, And the frog for the nightingale carol his lay.”     Then to Freya’s cheek rush’d the indignant blood, And the big round tear in her blue eye stood, Which flash’d on Loptur in fierce disdain, Like a bright setting sun thro’ a summer-eve’s rain; She turn’d tow’rds Odin a suppliant look, But her heart was so full, that no word she spoke.     Then Odin rose and declared his will, That a Thing straight should meet beneath Yggdrasill; But Loke was not bidden, his tongue they fear’d, So to Heimdall, on Bifrost, he quick repaired, And looking around that no god was near, Thus his counsel whisper’d in th’ Aser’s ear. I complain not that Odin suspects my zeal, But the affair touches nearly high Asgard’s weal: You are wise—for myself I have nought at stake, Tis for you of my hints the fit use to make; But whatever is done must be done with speed, Of decision the gods ne’er stood more in need.

269     White Heimdall who, seated on Bifrost’s bow, Knows all that passes its arch below, And can hear the herb grow in the earth—each word ’Twixt Loptur and Thrym on the mount had heard; He knew that for once the false god did not jest, So thank’d him coldly and joined the rest, ’Neath the sacred Ash, where the gods in a ring Were seated on stones round the raven-king.     Spake Heimdall: O, Aser, ’tis time to lower These giants’ pride, which all bounds runs o’er; Of our power no longer they stand in awe, But presume e’en to Odin to dictate law. Dark Thrymer burns with unhallowed fire, And to Freya’s hand e’en presumes t’ aspire. “True—Skada’s fervour Njord knows t’ assuage, And of cruel Ran Ægir checks the rage. Tall Gerda is gentle and loves As-Freyr, And illumines the pole with her sparkling fire. (From Gerda descend all dark-hair’d dames, In whose bosoms a fiercer ardour flames).24 But follows it thence that our loveliest rose, The pride of Valhalla, we tamely must lose! If the apples of Ydun our vigour bestow, ’Tis from Freya love’s softest endearments flow: O’er her small mouth of coral when plays the arch smile, Its spell e’en the woe-stricken heart can beguile; To behold it each Aser’s pulse thrills with delight, Without her not Asgard’s blue arch would be bright.     And shall we then—(may Skulda avert the disgrace) 34 All these were instances of a union between the races of the Aser and of the Giants. Gerda was a personification of the aurora borealis.

270 Thus poorly lesign her to Thrymer’s embrace! Shall that form which e’en but to look on is bliss, Be polluted at will by a foul giant’s kiss; Those eyes which with lore and expression late beara’d, In despair coldly fix’d, or with bitter tears dimm’d!      “No—rather let radiant Bifrost’s bow Into ocean sink or dissolve in dew; And the od’rous summit of Yggdrasill, With its leaves and blossoms dark Nastrond fill.      “On the utmost verge of Heaven I watch, And but transient glimpse of her charms may catch, As she’s daily wont o’er my bridge to pass, All be-deck’d with flowers, earth’s sons to bless; When she smiles, in transport I seize my horn, And wind a strain that wakes up the morn. At the sound thousand feather’d songsters spring From their dewy lair, and on buoyant wing Proclaim to the earth that the blue-eyed queen, White Heimdall on Bifrost’s arch hath seen.”     All th’ Aser approved what the wise god said, And Freya his speech with a look repaid, Went straight to his heart, that the blood out-rush’d, And his cheeks like an untaught youth’s were flush’d. Continuing, the counsel of wily Loke And Thrym’s demand in review he took: “Thor’s hammer,” quoth he, “Ran ne’er will leave, Unless by some wile we may Thrym deceive. He seeks for a bride of a snowy hue, With golden ringlets and eyes of blue. Such beauties in Utgard ’tis hard to find, But we still may send him a bride to his mind: If only Thor to my plan will yield, And to gain back Miölner, the distaff wield. ’Tis he shall be bride, one whose stern embrace

271 Shall make Thrym long for a swarthier face.     We’ll deck him out with the costliest gear, A wimple and coif on his head he shall wear, The polish’d keys from his belt shall pend, And Freya t’ adorn him her jewels lend: Great Odin a magic salve shall make, Unseemly scars from his front to take, His skin shall turn white, his beard disappear, Nor loss of courage thence need he fear; To Utgard with unshorn strength shall he wend, And Loke to dull Thrym that he’s Freya pretend.     Two shields on his breast we will fasten well, Which like Freya’s bosom twin globes shall swell. We’ll hang fair Brysing25 around his neck, Thus the Thunderer his hammer may get him back. Loke shall serve the goddess as guard and guide, And conduct to Thrymer his gentle bride.      “When the bridal cup passeth round the board, And the dwarfs bring Miölner from Ran’s dark hoard; When Thrymer with liquor and rapture drunk, In an amorous stupor on Thor hath sunk:— But why tell the Thunderer what part to choose, He will scarce learn from Heimdall how Miölner to use.”     The Diser loud laugh’d, and the counsel applaud, And clapp’d their white hands, and will dress out the god. E’en Odin himself could not help but laugh, To think of his son in a kirtle and coif.     Then a sighing was heard from out Urda’s well, And thrice waved the summit of Yggdrasill. 25 Brysing was Freya’s famous necklace, which caused the scandal of her adventure with the four dwarfs, whose workmanship it was.

272 Great Odin’s finger thrice Drupner26 pressed, And raised some doubts in the wise-one’s27 breast. But intent on the Diser, their mirth and their smiles, He forgat his wisdom and Loptur’s wiles; Baldur, Miraer, and Forsete,28 all were away, And Loke to his malice had now full play.     But Auka-Thor nought approved the joke, The hardy warrior but ill could brook, To a dark adventure to lend his name, And risk a blot on his well-earn’d fame. “What! Thor like a puling maiden drest! Thor stoop to a paltry cheat at best! I will hear no more of the dastard freak”— But Freya drew near, and with dimpled cheek, Her taper hand on his broad front placed, “And is mighty Thor then so soon disgraced! Earth’s sons who live in suspense and fear, Each doubtful emprize should shun with care; For envy and malice are still awake, Foul vantage of each false step to take, And with devilish rancour the brightest fame To sully, and cover with endless shame. But Thor is an Aser, his deeds of light Not the tongue of slander herself could blight. Twould scarce dim his glory to hear the prayer Of an injured goddess he once thought fair.”     The prayer of beauty doth seldom fail, And tears o’er reason will still prevail. A robe of scarlet arch Fulla brought, 26 Drupner, Odin’s magic ring. 27 Odin. 28 These were the wisest of the Aser.

273 Which Odin by magic must widen out. In a leathern boddice they laced him tight, But nought could induce him his hauberk to quit. Two shields of copper, well smoothed and round, On the Aser’s bosom Hermodur bound, Whilst the Valkyrs’29 cheeks like a furnace burn’d To see great Thor to a mummer turn’d. Brysing, all sparkling with gems, hung down On his tawny breast with black hair o’ergrown; But Odin his skin with an ointment smear’d, And white as a maiden’s it straight appear’d. No fitting coif for the god could be found, So his copper helmet, with wadmel bound, With flaunting ribbons and plumes they deck, But his gloves of steel Thor will with him take, And his magic belt—last with blood of bear And wild boar’s suet his cheeks they smear.     His dress now complete, Hnos a nosegay took Of peony, sunflower, and hollyhock, And stuck in his breast and said, Thor, farewell, Such charms sure before ne’er graced Thrymer’s cell.     Then Tialf the gold shoes on the goats made fast, Thor wound fhe reins round his lusty waist, He long’d for his hammer—bade Loke ascend, But no flames stream’d forth as the clouds they fend; The seven maids30 bow’d, Heimdall blew a blast, As with Loptur and Tialf the giant-bane pass’d. 29 The Valkyrs, whose business it was to protect and regard warriors, are fitly represented as blushing at this degradation of their pride. 30 The seven colours of the rainbow thus personified.

274 THOR RECOVERS THE HAMMER. Now Auka-Thor In golden car Cleaves the thick clouds With dark-hair’d Loke; And Loke the while, In’s heart doth smile, And trolds and gods Alike doth mock. On reaching Utgard they were met by Thrym and the officers of his court. There, waiting, stood The giant brood, An escort grim To greet the bride; And at their head, In flames array’d, The monarch Thrym In all his pride. At the gate, as yeomen, the metal-kings stood, The gold-king all radiant, the tin-king in white, The dark sullen lead-king, the copper, like blood, The stern king of iron, the silver-king bright. To Thor they bow’d, The warrior-god, Who sprang in haste Upon his feet,

275 And hasten’d on Tow’rds Utgard’s son, Whose am’rous breast With passion beat. The nymphs of the gems, each in brightest attiie, The gay laughing emerald without thought or care; The ruby still burning with amorous fire, The vain sapphire and proud stately diamond were there.                                                             Oehlenschläger. The bride was conducted through dark, subterranean passages to the banquetting hall, where a great feast had been prepared. Thrym was at first a little surprized at the appetite of the goddess, who in a short time, as we are informed in the Thrymis-quida, had devoured an ox and eight salmon, and emptied three huge measures of mead; and he remarked to Loke, “Never did I see a bride31 Take her meal better; Never did I see a maiden Drink more mead.” Loke soon explained the matter by saying, “Freya nought hath eaten For four days, So great was her longing For the journey hither.” 31 From the Thrym’s-quida, or song about Thrym in the Elder Edda.

276 Thrym now got impatient to salute his fair one, and for this purpose ventured to lift up her veil, but was deterred by the fierce looks of Thor, and again applied for explanation to Loke. “How is it that Freya’s Looks are so cutting, Fire seems to me To flash from her eyes.” Loke answered that her desire for the journey had deprived her of sleep for four nights. Thrym’s sister now came in, and told the bride that if she wished for her friendship, she must give her money, and the ring from her hand. At length Thrym ordered the hammer to be brought in, to consecrate the marriage. A troop of dwarfs came puffing and blowing and bending under its weight, and laid it in the bride’s lap. “Hlorida’s heart Laugh’d in his bosom When he recognized His trusty hammer.” He lost no time to make use of it, but, beginning with Thrym and his loathsome sister, he slew the whole party.