Northern Antiquities/Volume 2/Odes and other Ancient Poems

by Paul Henri Mallet

ODES,

AND OTHER

ANCIENT POEMS.

I THOUGHT proper to subjoin to the Edda the following pieces, selected out of that vast multitude of verses, which we find preserved in the ancient Chronicles.

These are such as appeared to me most expressive of the genius and manners of the ancient inhabitants of the north, and most proper to confirm what I had advanced in the preceding Volume; as also to shew that the Mythology contained in the Edda, hath been that of all the northern Poets, and the religion of many nations drest out with fictions and allegories.

I shall first of all present the Ode which Regner Lodbrog composed in the torments preceding his death. This Ode was dictated by the Fanaticism of Glory, animated by that of Religion. Regner, who was a celebrated Warrior, Poet and Pirate, reigned in Denmark about the beginning of the ninth century: after a long series of maritime expeditions into the most distant countries, his fortune at length failed him in England. Taken prisoner in battle by his adversary Ella, who was king of a part of that island, he perished by the bite of serpents, with which they had filled the dungeon he was confined in. He left behind him several sons, who revenged this horrible death, as Regner himself had foretold in the following verses. There is some reason, however, to conjecture that this prince did not compose more than one or two stanzas of this Poem, and that the rest were added, after his death, by the Bard, whose function it was, according to the custom of those times, to add to the funeral splendor, by singing verses to the praise of the deceased. Be that as it may, this Ode is found in several Icelandic Chronicles, and its versification, language and stile, leave us no room to doubt of its antiquity. Wormius has given us the text in Runic Characters, accompanied with a Latin Version, and large notes in his Lituratura Runica. Vid. p. 197. It is also met with in M. Biorners’s collection. Out of the twenty-nine strophes, of which it consists, I have only chosen the following, as being what I thought the generality of my readers would peruse with most pleasure. I have not even always translated entire stanzas, but have sometimes reduced two stanzas into one, in order to spare the Reader such passages as appeared to me uninteresting and obscure^[1].

EXTRACTS

from the ode of

KING REGNER LODBROG.

******

“WE fought with swords^[2], when, in my early youth, I went towards the east to prepare a bloody prey for the ravenous wolves: ‘ample food for the yellow-footed eagle.’ The whole ocean seemed as one wound: the ravens waded in the blood of the slain.

****** “We fought with swords, in the day of that great fight, wherein I sent the inhabitants of Helsing to the Hall of Odin. Thence our ships carried us to Isa^[3]: there our steel-pointed launces, reeking with gore, divided the armour with a terrible clang: there our swords cleft the shields asunder.

****** “We fought with swords, that day wherein I saw ten thousand of my foes rolling in the dust near a promontory of England. A dew of blood distilled from our swords. The arrows which flew in search of the helmets, bellowed through the air. The pleasure of that day was equal to that of clasping a fair virgin in my arms^[4].

“We fought with swords, that day when I made to struggle in the twilight of death that young chief so proud of his flowing locks^[5], he who spent his mornings among the young maidens; he who loved to converse with the handsome widows. * * * * * * What is the happy portion of the brave, but to fall in the midst of a storm of arrows^[6]? He who flies from wounds, drags a tedious miserable life: the dastard feels no heart in his bosom.

“We fought with swords: a young man should march early to the conflict of arms: man should attack man or bravely resist him. In this hath always consisted the nobility of the warrior. He who aspires to the love of his mistress ought to be dauntless in the clash of swords.

“We fought with swords: but now I find for certain that men are drawn along by fate: there are few can evade the decrees of the Destinies. Could I have thought the conclusion of my life reserved for Ella, when almost expiring, I shed torrents of blood? When I thrust forward my ships into the Scotish gulphs? When I gained such abundant spoil for the beasts of prey?

“We fought with swords: I am still full of joy, when I think that a banquet is preparing for me in the palace of the Gods. Soon, soon in the splendid abode of Odin, we shall drink Beer out of sculls of our enemies. A brave man shrinks not at death. I shall utter no words expressive of fear as I enter the hall of Odin.

“We fought with swords. Ah! if my sons knew the sufferings of their father if they knew that poisonous vipers tore his intrails to pieces! with what ardour would they wish to wage cruel war! For I gave a mother to my children, from whom they inherit a valiant heart.

“We fought with swords: but now I touch upon my last moments. A serpent already gnaws my heart. Soon shall my sons black their swords in the blood of Ella: their rage is in flame: those valiant youths will never rest till they have avenged their father.

“We fought with swords, in fifty and one battles under my floating banniers. From my early youth I have learnt to dye the steel of my lance with blood; and thought I never could meet with a king more valiant than myself. But it is time to cease: Odin hath sent his Goddesses to conduct me to his palace. I am going to be placed on the highest seat, there to quaff goblets of Beer with the Gods. The hours of my life are rolled away. I will die laughing.”

REMARKS on the preceding ODE.

I Will not anticipate the reflections that necessarily occur to the Reader on perusing this Poem; but will only observe, that it strongly confirms what I have advanced in the former part of this work, concerning the peculiar sentiments of the northern nations with regard to the fair sex. It has been commonly supposed, that we owe to the Laws of Chivalry, (i. e. to an institution so late as the eleventh century) that spirit of generosity, which formerly rendered the ladies the umpires of the glory and honour of the male sex; which made their favours the object and the reward of virtuous and gallant actions; which caused the care of serving, defending and pleasing them, to be considered as the sweetest and most noble of all duties; and which hath, even to this day, entailed on them a respect and deference, of which there is not the least idea in other climates. But it is certain, that long before the eleventh century, this manner of thinking had been familiar, and, as it were, naturalized among the Germans and Scandinavians. Let us call to mind what Tacitus says of the respect shewn by these nations to their women. The Romans by no means introduced sentiments of this kind into the countries they conquered. It was not from them that they were adopted in Spain, France, England, &c. Whence comes it then, that after the fall of the Roman Empire, we find this spirit of gallantry all of a sudden spread so wide? We see plainly that this spirit, so peculiar to the northern nations, could only be spread and diffused by themselves. Formed and cherished by their religious prejudices, by their passion for war, and the chastity natural to their women, at the fame time intimately connected with their customs and manners, it could not but follow them into all their settlements, and there would continue to maintain its influence for many ages. But afterwards, when the nations descended from them became more civilized and wealthy, the splendid and shewy effects, which this fine spirit of gallantry then produced, would easily dazzle the eyes of inquirers, and prevent them from discerning the origin of it among so rude a race of men as their Gothic ancestors: so that at present, when one would trace it up to its real source, we have strong prejudices to encounter and surmount.

IF there are many strokes of gallantry in the Ode of king Regner, the genius of Chivalry itself will seem to speak in that composed by a Norwegian prince, named Harald the Valiant, which is found in an old Icelandic Chronicle, called Knytlinga Saga. This piece is of much later date than the preceding: but it is yet sufficient to show, that these northern people had learned to combine the ideas of love and military valour, long before those very nations themselves, whose taste and manners they had afterwards so strong an inclination to adopt. Harald the Valiant lived about the middle of the eleventh century. He was one of the most illustrious adventurers of his time. He had traversed all the seas of the north, and carried his piratical incursions as far as the Mediterranean itself, and the coast of Africa. He was at length taken prisoner, and detained for some time at Constantinople. He complains in this Ode, that the glory he had acquired by so many exploits, had not been able to make any impression on Elissif^[7], the daughter of Jarislas, king of Russia.

THE ODE OF

HARALD THE VALIANT.

“MY ships have made the tour of Sicily: then were we all magnificent and splendid. My brown vessel, full of mariners, rapidly rowed to the utmost of my wishes. Wholly taken up with war, I thought my course would never slacken, and yet a Russian maiden scorns me.

“In my youth I fought with the people of Drontheim. Their troops exceeded ours in number. It was a terrible conflict: I left their young king dead in the field: and yet a Russian maiden scorns me.

“One day we were but sixteen in a vessel: a storm arose and swelled the sea: it filled the loaded ship, but we diligently cleared it out. Thence I formed hopes of the happiest success: and yet a Russian maiden scorns me.

“I know how to perform eight exercises^[8]: I fight valiantly; I sit firmly on horseback; I am inured to swimming; I know how to run along in scates; I dart the launce; and am skilful at the oar: and yet a Russian maiden scorns me.

“Can she deny, that young and lovely maiden, that on the day, when posted near a city in the southern land, I joined battle, that then I valiantly handled my arms, and left behind me lasting monuments of my exploits? and yet a Russian maiden scorns me.

“I was born in the high country of Norway, where the inhabitants handle their bows so well. But I preferred guiding my ships, the dread of peasants, among the rocks of the ocean: and far from the habitations of men, I have run through all the seas with my vessels: and yet a Russian maiden scorns me.

THE Ode which follows is of a different kind from the preceding, it is called, in the ancient Chronicles, the Elogium of Hacon. This prince was son of the famous Harald, surnamed Harfagre, or Fair-Locks, the first king of all Norway. He was slain in the year 960, in a battle wherein eight of his brothers fell along with him. Eyvind, or Evinder, his cousin, a celebrated Scald, who was called The Cross of Poets on account of his superior talents for verse, was present at this battle, and afterwards composed this Ode, to be sung at the funeral of his relation. It is Snorro himself, to whom we owe the Edda, that hath preserved this Ode in his Chronicle of Norway.

THE

ELOGIUM OF HACON.

AN ODE.

“THE Goddesses ‘of Destiny’ who preside over battles, come, sent forth by Odin. They go to chuse among the princes of the illustrious race of Yngvon, him, ‘who is to perish, and’ go to dwell in the palace of the Gods^[9].

********

“Gondula, ‘one of these Goddesses,’^[10] leaned on the end of her lance, and thus bespake ‘her companions:’ the assembly of the Gods is going to be increased: ‘the enemies of’ Hacon^[11] come to invite this prince with his numerous host, to enter the palace of Odin.

“Thus spake these beautiful nymphs of war: who were seated on their horses; who were covered with their shields and helmets, and appeared full of some great thought.

“Hacon heard their discourse: Why, said he to one of them? why hast thou thus disposed of the battle? Were we not worthy to have obtained from the Gods a more perfect victory? It is we, she replied, who have given it to thee: it is we who have put thine enemies to flight.

“Now, proceeded she, let us urge forward our horses across those green and verdant worlds, which are the residence of the Gods. Let us go tell Odin that the king is coming to visit him in his palace.

“When the father of the Gods hears this news, he says, Hermode and Brago, my sons, go to meet the king: A king admired by all men for his valour, now approacheth to our hall.

“At length king Hacon approaches, and, arriving from the battle, is still all besprinkled and running down with blood. At the sight of Odin he cries out, Ah! How severe and terrible doth this God appear to me!

“The God Brago replies; Come thou, that wast the terror of the most illustrious warriors: Come hither, and re-join thine eight brethren: the heroes who reside here shall cultivate peace with thee. Go drink Ale therefore in the full circle of the Gods.

“But this brave king cries out: I will still retain my arms: a hero ought carefully to preserve his mail and helmet: it is dangerous to be a moment without the sword^[12] in one’s hand.

“Then was fully seen how religiously this king had sacrificed ever to the Gods: since the great celestial council and all the inferior Gods, received him among them with respectful salutations.

“Happy is the day on which that king is born, who thus gains to himself such favour from the Gods. The age in which he hath lived shall remain among men in happy remembrance.

“The wolf Fenris shall burst his fetters, and dart with rage upon his enemies, before so good a king shall again appear upon the earth; which is now reduced to a desolate state of widowhood by his loss.

“Riches perish; relations die; the countries are laid waste; but king Hacon will dwell for ever with the Gods; while his people give themselves up to sorrow.”

I Shall only produce one piece more, but one much more considerable than any of the preceding, and which, by the many little circumstantial strokes it abounds with, will give us a still deeper insight into the manners and genius of the times we wish to know. It is extracted from a Collection of ancient historical Monuments of the North, published by Mr. E. J. Biorner, a learned Swede, under the title of “Nordiska Kâmpedater, &c.” i. e. “The Exploits of the northern Kings and Heroes, &c. Stockholm, 1737.” This Author published the following piece from a manuscript preserved in the Archives of the College of Antiquities in Sweden, and accompanied it with a Swedish and Latin Version. I have been as much assisted by the former, as I have been careful to keep at a distance from the latter: for Mr. Biorner, who had faithfully followed his original in the one, hath employed so many rhetorical flourishes in the other, or, to say the truth, a style throughout so puffy and inflated, that instead of an ancient northern Scald, one would think one was hearing a boy newly come from studying his rhetoric. This loose and faithless manner of translating, cannot, in my opinion, be too much condemned, especially in works of genuine antiquity; of which the principal merit consists in the simplicity and original spirit of the composition.

It would be a frivolous objection to urge, that, as this piece rather belongs to the antiquities of Sweden, than to those of Denmark, it therefore ought not to be inserted in the present work. Those who know the two nations, are not to learn that anciently the manners and customs of them both were so much the same, that the compositions of the one kingdom might easily be attributed to the other, without causing any material error or mistake. Besides, the Poem in question hath been claimed in their turn by the Danish Literati, as a production of their own country: and it hath even been printed nearly the same as it is given here, in a collection of ancient Danish Songs^[13]. For my part, I am inclined to think that it was sung indifferently throughout all Scandinavia, and that each people placed the scene of action among themselves, in order to have the honour of those prodigious feats of valour, which are so largely described in it. Examples of this kind are frequent enough in all remote ages.

With regard to the time when this Poem was composed, if we may judge from the language of the original as we have it at present, it should seem to be of the thirteenth or fourteenth century: but it certainly must be of a far more distant period; since the manners described in it, and the Pagan religion, which is more than once alluded to, incontestibly belong to times preceding the tenth century. It is therefore very probable, that the language and stile of this Poem have been occasionally reformed and modernized, as often as was necessary to render it intelligible. It’s being so general a favourite throughout the north, must have invited more Poets than one to do the public this acceptable service. Mr. Biorner informs us, that he himself had heard it sung in his youth, with some slight alterations, by the Peasants of Medelpadia and Angermania, Provinces which lie to the north of Stockholm. As to what he asserts farther, that the Heroes celebrated in it must have lived in the third century, it is a point very difficult to maintain with any certainty.

The History of Charles and Grymer, Swedish Kings; and of Hialmar, the Son of Harec, King of Biarmland.

THERE was a king named Charles, who commanded valiant warriors: in Sweden were his dominions; where he caused to reign repose and joy. Widely extended and populous was his country; and his army was composed of chosen youths. His queen, who was herself most beautiful, had borne him a lovely daughter, called Inguegerda; whose lively and graceful accomplishments daily encreasing, were no less the objects of admiration, than was the splendor of her birth and fortune. The breast of the king was replete with felicity.

The defence of the king’s power and dominions were intrusted to the care of a valiant count^[14], named Eric. This warrior had past his life amidst the clash of swords and javelins, and had vanquished many a mighty Hero. His wife, a lady of illustrious birth, had brought him a son, named Grymer; a youth early distinguished in the profession of arms; who well knew how to die his sword in the blood of his enemies, to run over the craggy mountains, to wrestle, play at chess, trace the motions of the stars, and to throw far from him heavy weights; in short, he was possessed of every accomplishment that could perfect and compleat the Hero. By the time he was twelve years old, no one durst contend with him, either with the sword, the bow, or at wrestling. He frequently shewed his skill in the chamber of the damsels, before the king’s lovely daughter. Desirous of acquiring her regard, he displayed his dexterity in handling his weapons, and the knowlege he had attained in the sciences he had learned. At length he ventured to make this demand; “Wilt thou, O fair Princess, if I may obtain the king’s Page:Northern Antiquities 2.djvu/306 Page:Northern Antiquities 2.djvu/307 Page:Northern Antiquities 2.djvu/308 Page:Northern Antiquities 2.djvu/309 Page:Northern Antiquities 2.djvu/310 Page:Northern Antiquities 2.djvu/311 Page:Northern Antiquities 2.djvu/312 We must now relate what paffed in the interim. HIALMAR’s warriors, aftonished to fee their chief fall by the fword of the valiant GRYMER, with grief-pierced hearts declared, they should never find his equal. They departed home sorrowful and de- jected; but at the fame time nourished in their bofoms an implacable defire of ven- geance. They fet fail toward BIARMLAND, and the violence of the waves favouring their courfe, they foon beheld the caftle of HAREC Hialmar's father. The fight of this fomewhat confoled their grief. In- ftantly landing, they entered the palace, as the king was coming forth to meet them. This aged prince feeing his warriors pale and dejected, with downcaft eyes, enquired if HIALMAR remained on fhip-board, and whether he had gained the fair prize he fought for? “Hialmar,” said they, “has "not received flight wounds in the com- "bat: he is difpoiled of life: he hath not " even feen his beautiful miftrefs." The king, ftruck with confternation, poured forth a deep figh, and cried, "Certainly "the death of HIALMAR is a most affect- ing lofs!-Let the Bugle Horn sound to arms. I will go ravage Sweden. Let every man who bears a shield, launch his vessel into the sea: let us renew the war; let the helmets be broke in pieces, and let all prepare for the clash of swords.” The whole country was unpeopled by the assembling of the warriors; who ardently thirsted after battle, that by a speedy vengeance they might give comfort to ‘the shade of’ Hialmar. The rendezvous being fixed, multitudes repaired thither from every quarter. The most distinguished warriors were covered with entire coats of mail, and their gilded arms cast a resplendent gleam around them.

Harec having distributed to others suits of armour of the hardest steel, helmets and cuirasses, swords and darts and shields, put himself at the head of this resolute band; and led them forth to war. They immediately embarked, and full of courage, set sail, ranging their bucklers, which reflected rays of light, along the sides of their vessels. Their sails were composed of a fine stuff, bordered with blue and scarlet. Harec exhorted them to revenge, and inspired them with intrepid resolution by his warlike discourses. The soldiers seconding his wishes, hoist and spread their fails with a generous emulation to outdo each other. The billows resound before the prows of the ships as they press forward; the wind redoubles its force; the sea foams and swells; and the white waves dash against the sides of the vessels. They scud along as swift as the lightning; and the mermaids with difficulty follow them, in order to feast on the pitch with which their keels are besmeared. At length the Biarmian Heroes reach the Swedish coast: they cast anchor and moor in the bottom of the haven. Their cables are hove down, and lie floating from their sides. They soon gain the shore in their light shallops; and presently cover themselves with their helmets. Harec again invites them to vengeance, and commands them to lay waste the land with fire and sword. His orders are obeyed; the ravage begins: the flames spread over the country, and the inhabitants lose at once their glory and their lives. Sweden becomes one continued stream of fire. Its Heroes are laid low. Nothing is heard but the resounding of the shrill clarion: nothing is seen but heads dissevered by the deep-cutting sword. At length count Eric is apprised that war desolates the dominions of his king. That Hero instantly girds on his sword, to put a stop to these dreadful ravages. He collects together both the free-men and the slaves throughout the kingdom. Soon was this valiant troop in arms: this troop, among whom so many were destined to lose their lives. The two armies joined battle; the swords were blunted on the helmets and shields. The far-sounding trumpet animates the combatants; the darts pierce them thro’, the sharp iron severs their limbs, so that almost all seem devoted to death.

A gallant warrior, named Grunder, was present at that engagement; whose sword was accustomed to break in pieces the best tempered buckler, and whose slaughter fattened the hungry wolves. He held the rank of Duke in Harec’s kingdom: full of ardour in the combat, whether he fought with the sword or lance, he had sent many a fair corpse to the regions of death. This valiant Hero threw himself into the thickest of the battle, and laying prostrate at his feet a multitude of warriors covered with sweat and blood, he devoted them a prey to the savage beasts. Count Eric, enflamed with rage and vengeance, hastened to oppose the progress of this chief: but a shower of darts laid him in the dust, and forced his immediate followers to retire: the rest of his soldiers feeing him prostrate on the earth, cast their shields away, and saved themselves by a speedy flight. The conquerors shed rivers of blood among the vanquished, and raising the shout of joy dreadful to hear, hack with their swords the shields of their enemies. These hastily fly to the woods, leaving the field of battle spread over with the ghastly corps of their companions; being themselves irresolute and dismayed, having neither targets nor helmets left for their defence; while the victorious Biarmians, regardless either of glory or virtue, proceed to burn the houses every where scattered over the country.

King Charles is informed that his warriors are perished; that his chieftain Eric himself is destroyed, and that his army are weltering in their blood. He is likewise told, that in Harec’s train there is a chieftain named Grunder, whose resplendent sword hath made a terrible carnage of his people. Grymer heard also this relation, and throwing down his dagger, struck it with violence into the table; but the king, with his, pierced it through and through. All instantly fly to arms: every one prepares himself for battle. The trumpet sounds, each warrior is accoutered, and the women, sensibly alarmed, surrender up themselves to fear.

In the mean time the people flock around the king; crying, that a woful devastation was spread over Sweden, and that the flames, without distinction, devoured every dwelling. The king, at the hearing of this calamity, waxes red with fury, and orders the blue steel of their arms to be dyed in blood. At the loud clangor of the polished trumpets, the soldiers vow revenge for their loss. Grymer, panting for battle, was dressed out in a costly cuirass: being thus in armour, he appeared still more handsome than before; and his sword reflected a dazzling lustre. The whole army, impatient for the fight, began the onset by flinging stones. Harec’s Soldiers, on their part, returned the attack, and ran eagerly to the combat. The wounds are impatient to be made with the points of the swords. Pikes and arrows fly with violence. Grunder cuts short the thread of life of all who come in his way. Grymer inflames the ardour of his people. Charles, an eyewitness of the encounter of these Heroes, deals destruction around him, and pays an abundant tribute to death. Every thing gives way to the resistless crash of his death-dealing blows his glittering sword pierces to the heart. Thus the warriors fall in crowds in the conflict. The vultures assemble to devour their prey: the young eagles scream around, and the carnivorous beasts lie waiting for the dead. The high soaring hawks rejoice with shrill cries over their smoaking repasts. Many wolves were likewise spectators of the action. Grunder was ever active in discomposing his adversaries, and his eager sword ran down with blood. Charles beholds his people discomfited and hewn in pieces by this warrior. At length they meet, and with hearts boiling with dreadful rage, they engage each other. Their strokes are impetuously redoubled, till at length the king falls, covered with wounds; and his limbs float in his own blood. At that instant, the bright daughters of Destiny invite him to enter the palace of Odin.

Thus fell Charles, in fight of the exulting and rapacious wolves: when Grymer ran furiously through the opposing battalions, and uttered bitter cries amid the swords of his enemies; while Grunder vaunts to have snatched the victory out of the hands of his foes, and to have cut off the king and count Eric with the sword. Perceiving Grymer, he exclaims, “Thou alone remainest to enter the lists with me. Revenge the cause of thy friends: come and let us fight in single combat: it is now thy turn to feel the keenness of my sword.” Immediately their sabres hang dreadful in the air, like dark and threatning clouds. Grymer’s weapon falls like a thunder-bolt. Dreadful is the encounter: their swords furiously strike; they are soon bathed in gore. At length Grunder is covered with wounds: he sinks amidst a deluge of blood. Grymer gives a dreadful shout of triumph, and with his envenomed sword, cleaves the casque of his enemy, hews his armour in pieces, and pours the light in through his bosom. Then a shower of arrows is launched on both sides: the darts tear through whatever may oppose them: and the bodies of the warriors, or their steel-defended heads can no more resist the rapid sword, than a soft bank of yielding snow. The most illustrious of the chiefs are despoiled of their bracelets, and the blue-edged weapon shivers the helmets and the breast-plates of all. At length the Biarmians, worsted, retire to their ships; every one flies as fast as his strength will permit him. The vessels are instantly unmoored, and put to sea: those vessels which are destined to be the messengers of such sad tidings. Yet the bravest of their warriors retire but slowly, and seem by their gestures still desirous of insulting their conquerors.

Harec was not seen to have fled among the crowd, nor had that gallant prince once turned his back during the combat. He was diligently sought for; when his companions presented themselves along with him to Grymer, and thus addressed him. “Stay! behold in thy power this dauntless Hero; who, weighed down with years, still maintains the fight with all the spirit and courage of youth.—Thy renown will be fallacious, if thou deprive him of life; since he is a man whose equal it will be difficult to find.” Grymer cast a look on the king, nor was the animosity between these two warriors yet extinguished. Hialmar’s death was still regretted, although an ample vengeance had been taken. At length Grymer thus bespake him.” The king, my father-in-law, hath lost his life; and thy son was become famous for his valour. Let our mutual losses be deemed equal; and let the death of Grunder atone and compensate for that of Eric. For thee, O king, accept at my hands both life and peace. Thou hast signalized thyself in combats: keep henceforth thy mighty ships, and thy Biarmian kingdom.” Every one was pleased with this noble and generous sentence of Grymer. The two Heroes entered into a strict and faithful alliance. The king, pleased to have preserved his life, immediately conducted his Aleet to Biarmland. The warriors laid up their arms in peace: the wounded were brought home to be healed: and hilly monuments were raised for the slain^[15]. Grymer reigned, honoured by his subjects, and beloved by the fair partner of his bed. He was magnificent, eloquent and affable: and all the inhabitants of those countries celebrated his praises.

REMARKS on the preceding PIECE.

(a) “A valiant count.”] In all the states of Germany, that were subject to the monarchical form of government, besides the King, who was hereditary, the nation chose to themselves a Chief or Leader, who sometimes bore the title of Count, and sometimes that of Duke^[16]. The King was descended of one certain family; but the choice of the Chieftain was always conferred upon the bravest warrior. Reges ex nobilitate, Duces ex virtute sumunt, says Tacitus, De Mor. Germ. This passage, as Montesquieu hath clearly shown, is a clue that unravels the history of the middle ages. Under the first race of the Kings of France, the crown was hereditary, the office of Mayor of the Palace elective. This custom the Franks had brought with them from their original country.

(b) “Brotherly confederacy.—Fr. Confraternitè.”] Here we plainly discover those Fraternities in Arms, which are so often mentioned in the hiftory of Chivalry, in France, England, and elsewhere. Joinville is possibly the oldest Author who speaks of them in France, where they still subsisted in the time of Brantôme. M. de Ste. Palaye, in his excellent Memoirs of Chivalry, relates the terms and conditions of these associations. They differed in no respect from those in use in the north. Our most ancient Chronicles afford us examples of these Confraternities, and in general, every thing that constituted Chivalry was established in the north in those early ages, when they had not the least idea of it in the more southern nations.

(c) “Buried his gold with his body.”] We have seen, in the former part of this work^[17], that one of the chief funeral Ceremonies, consisted in depositing along with the defunct whatever had been most precious and dear to him during his life. Upon opening the old burial-places, various kinds of iron instruments are still found there; though, whatever our Poet may say, the little earnestness that is shown for searching into such recesses, is a sufficient proof that men seldom find any great quantity of gold concealed in them.

(d) “Hilly monuments . . . . for the slain.”] This incontestably proves, that the events related in this Poem, are of very ancient date. From the first erection of churches in the north, it was strictly forbidden to bury in the open fields, as had been the custom in times of Paganism. It has been already observed^[18], that these little sepulchral mounts are found every where in Scandinavia, and in the countries lying upon the Baltic. The Norvegians carried this custom with them into Normandy, where these little monumental Hillocks are often found, constructed like these of the north. The learned Montfaucon has given a full description of one that was discovered in the year 1685, in the Diocese of Evreux.

 

It were needless to extend these Remarks farther, the preceding Poem being of itself sufficiently characteristic of the manners of the times. In this, as in almost all other pieces of this Collection, may be perceived more force of imagination than could be expected from those ages of ignorance and ferocity; not to mention, from so rigorous a climate. It must however be added, that much of the beauty and force of these Poems is lost to us, who only read them in a prose Translation; who seldom, and not without much pains, can unfold the allegorics with which their Authors abound, and who enter neither into their system of Mythology, nor into the manners of the times wherein they were written.

What must we conclude from all this? Can we doubt whether these Scandinavian Poets, sometimes lively and ingenious as they were, were the same barbarians who set fire to Rome, overturned the Empire, and ravaged Spain, France and England? Yet this must be admitted, or we must contradict the whole tenor of history. Let us then grant, that the influence of the ruling passion might supply, in those Northern Climes, the absence of the Sun, and that the imaginations of mankind may subsist in full vigour and maturity, even during the infancy of reason.

The End of M. Mallet’s Second Volume.

1. Our elegant Author having taken great liberties in his Translation of this and the following Odes, in order to accommodate them to the taste of French Readers; it was once intended here, instead of copying the French, to have given extracts from the more literal Version of all these Poems formerly published, which hath been so often quoted in the Notes to this work: viz. The Five Pieces of Runic Poetry, Translated from the Icelandic Language. 1763. 8vo. But an ingenious Friend having translated from the French this part of M. Mallet’s Book, I have got leave to insert his Version, and shall take the liberty to refer the more curious Reader to the pamphlet above-mentioned; which the Translator professes he occasionally consulted in the following pages. There the Odes here abridged may be seen at large, confronted with the Icelandic Originals, and accompanied with two other ancient Pieces of Northern Poetry. T.
2. We fought with Swords. The Icelandic original hiuggum or huiggum, is a word of the same origin, as the Anglo-Saxon heawan. Germ. hauwen, houwen. Engl. to hew. From the same root comes also our Rustic word to hough. The passage therefore of the text might perhaps have been rendered more exactly: “We struck, or cut, or hacked and hewed with Swords.” Wormius has rendered it as in the text, Pugnavimus ensibus. But Bartholin seems to have come nearer the exact idea in Secuimus ensibus. Our Author, M. Mallet, renders it as Nous nous sommes battus à coups d’ Epees. T.
3. Or the Vistula.
4. I cannot help thinking, that the Reader will censure our ingenious Author, as not having here exerted his usual good taste in selecting, when he finds he has omitted such stanzas as the following, particularly the two last.

   “We fought with swords, in the Northumbrian land. A furious storm descended on the shields: many a lifeless body fell to the earth. It was about the time of the morning, when the foe was compelled to fly in the battle. There the sword sharply bit the polished helmet. The pleasure of that day was like kissing a young widow at the highest seat of the table.”

   ******

   “We fought with swords in the Flemings land: the battle widely raged before king Freyr fell therein. The blue steel all reeking with blood, fell at length upon the golden mail. Many a virgin bewailed the slaughter of that morning.”

   ******

   “We fought with swords; the spear resounded; the banners reflected the sunshine upon the coats of mail. I saw many a warrior fall in the morning: many a hero in the contention of arms. Here the sword reach betimes the heart of my son: it was Egill deprived Agnar of life. He was a youth who never knew what it was to fear.”

   ******

   “We fought with swords in the isles of the south. There Herthiofe proved victorious: there died many valiant warriors. In the shower of arms, Rogvaldur fell, I lost my fon. In the play of arms came the deadly spear: his lofty crest was dyed with gore. The birds of prey bewailed his fall: they lost him that prepared them banquets.”

   Vid. Five Pieces of Run. Poet. p. 31, 32, 35, &c. T.

5. He means Harald, surnamed Harfagre, or Fairlocks, king of Norway. T.
6. Literally, a hail-storm of darts. Une grêle de traits. T.
7. In the original, as given by Bartholin, it is Elizabeth. T.
8. See the Five Pieces of Runic Poetry, p. 80.
9. Eight stanzas are here omitted, which the Reader may see at large in the Five Pieces of Run. Poet. p. 63, & seq.—One of them presents a fine picture of a youthful Chieftain.

   “The leader of the people had just before cast aside his armour; he had put off his coat of mail: he had thrown them down in the field a little before the beginning of the battle. He was playing with the sons of renowned men, when he was called forth to defend his kingdom. The gallant king now stood under his golden helmet.” T.

10. N. B. The Translator has borrowed here and there a word or two from that Version, which he hath inclosed between two inverted commas ‘ ’ : he hath also distinguished by the same marks, some passages, which M. Mallet seems to have superadded to the original, without sufficient foundation. Let the curious Reader compare the two Versions. T.
11. Rather, “The Gods invite Hacon.” Our Author seems to have here departed from the original without necessity. The dying a violent death was so far from being considered as an evil, by the ancient Scandinavians, or as the act of an enemy; that the Gods could not do them a greater favour than to take that method of inviting them to their eternal abode. We have seen it established as a sacred truth in the Edda, “Odin is called the Father of Battles, because he adopts for his children all those who are slain with their swords in their hands:” i. e. in battle. See Fable X. p. 61. T.
12. Or lance.
13. See N. 20. in Centur. Cant. Danic. prior Part. prim. ab And. Velleio compil. & edit. Ann. 1695. cum cent. sec. a Pet. Syvio.
14. endnote a
15. endnote d
16. Islandicè, Iarl: whence our title Earl. T.
17. See Vol. I. p. 341. Vol. II. p. 142.
18. Vol. I. p. 222.