The Waking of Angantyr
(Translated from the Icelandic by Paul B. Taylor and W. H. Auden)
Notes by Peter H. Salus
A man with his flock on Munarvag
Herdsman
Is overbold: go back to your lodging.
Hervor
I know none. I will not go back.
Before we part, first tell me
How I may come to the Hjorvard graves.
Herdsman
You do not know your deadly peril:
Let us flee as fast as our feet can take us,
All without is a horror to view.
Hervor
Show me the way: as a reward you shall have
This gold necklace: you will get nothing,
Nor ring nor ornament, if you hold your peace.
Herdsman
To this land of shadows, was sheer folly.
Over fen and fold fires are soaring,
Graves are opening: let us go quickly.
Hervor
Although the island be all aflame,
Never shall warriors while they live
Yield to terror. Tell me the way.
Fled to the wood, far from the maiden,
But the fierce heart in Hervor’s breast
Swelled up at the sight of these things.
She saw now the grave-fires and the graves standing open. She went to the howe and was not afraid. She passed the fires as if they were smoke, until she reached the graves of the berserks. Then she said:
Hervor
Your only daughter whom you had by Tofa.
Give up from the grave the gleaming sword
That the dwarves smithied for Svafrlami.
Hear me, all of you, under the tree-roots,
With sharp swords, with shields and byrnies
And red spears, the rig of war.
Once so mighty: are you mold now?
Will Eyfura’s sons refuse to listen
Or speak with me on Munarvag?
Dogs rend you; may you rot away.
Give back the sword that was smithied by Dvalinn:
Fine weapons are unfit for ghosts.
Angantyr
To call down such curses upon us:
Your words are mad, without meaning in them.
Why do you wake the bewildered dead?
Tyrfing was owned by two who live,
Though only one owned it later.
Hervor
May bless your grave. Have you got Tyrfing?
Why are you unwilling to yield
Your heritage to your only child?
Then it was as if a flame lit up all the graves which stood open. Then Angantyr said:
Angantyr
The island surface is one searing flame,
All without is a horror to view:
Go, while there’s time: return to your ship.
Hervor
With no fire can you frighten me,
Nor daunt the heart in your daughter’s breast
With ghosts standing at grave-mouths.
Angantyr
Daughter of princes, the doom I foretell: This Tyrfing will, if the true blade,
Destroy your kindred, kill them all.
Who shall wield Tyrfing, trust in its strength:
After Heidrick shall the hero be named,
The bravest one under heaven.
Hervor
On all of you: may you ever lie,
Wretched shades, in the rot of the pit.
Give back the wondrous work of smiths:
Son of Vikings, it is vain to hide it.
Angantyr
Who walk in the dark where the dead lie,
Uncowed by flames, with a carved spear
And mailed corselet on Munarvag.
Hervor
Until advised to visit your halls:
Surrender the blade, the bane-of-shields,
Hater-of-byrnies, Hjalmar’s-killer.
Angantyr
The sharp sword, sheathed in flame:
No maiden on earth, no mortal dare
Touch such a weapon, take it to hold.
Hervor
The sharp edge. In order to get it
I will walk through fire with unflinching step:
The flames are sinking before my eyes.
Angantyr
Fling yourself on the flames and perish,
I will grant what you ask, give you the blade
Such courage of heart I cannot refuse.
Hervor
To grant what I ask, give me the blade:
To possess the sword seems to me better
Than to own all Norway.
Angantyr
Wretched woman, at what you rejoice:
I tell you again, this Tyrfing will
Destroy your kindred, kill them all.
Hervor
To ride the horses of the roaring sea:
Little care I what may come after,
What dole my sons may deal each other.
Angantyr
But conceal it well. Beware the edges
Of Hjalmar’s-Bane: both are poisoned.
Mortal to man is the Measurer-of-Fate.
All the strength and stoutness of heart
That was taken from Arngrim’s twelve sons,
The good of life they lost in death.
Hervor
Blessed in your graves, may you be at peace.
I deemed in my mind that death was near
When all about me leaped high flames.
NOTES
Textual note: The first two lines are added from the Hauksbók.
Munarvag: A mythical place name. There is no “Munar Bay.”
Hjorvard: one of Angantyr’s brothers.
Svafrlami: grandson of Odin.
Dvalinn: one of the dwarves enumerated in Völuspá.
Bane-of-shields, etc.: kennings for sword; here Tyrfing.
Heidrick: the details of Heidrick’s life are contained in “The Battle of the Huns.”
Measurer-of-Fate: another kenning for Tyrfing.
A note on Tyrfing: Svafrlami forced Dvalinn and Dulinn to forge him a sword which would never rust, with a hilt and handle of gold, and which would cut iron as though it were cloth. The dwarves forged the sword, but Dvalinn cursed it, saying that it would kill a man each time it was drawn, and that it would perform three dastardly deeds, as well as being the cause of Svafrlami’s death. In a fight with Arngrim, Svafrlami lost his hand, and Arngrim killed him with Tyrfing. Arngrim then took Svafrlami’s daughter and had twelve sons by her. Angantyr, the eldest, fell heir to Tyrfing. Hjalmar the Haughty and Arrow-Odd slew all twelve in a fight in which Hjalmar was also slain. Odd buried the brothers in barrows with their weapons. Svava, Angantyr’s wife, gave birth to a daughter, Hervor, who was inclined to fighting and weapons. Posing as a man (Hervard), she joined a band of Vikings, and thus came to Munarvag.