Viking Tales of the North
Fridthjof's Saga
Page 5
This temple to the god, king Helge march’d
On painful foray ‘mong the heathen Fins,
Scaling each mountain wall. In Finland’d borders,
Rais’d on a barren, time-worn peak, there stood
An ancient temple consecrate to Jumala;
Abandon’d and fast-shut for many ages
This desolate fane had been, its ev’ry rite
Long since forgotten; but, above the portal,
An old and monstrous idol of the god
Stood, frail-supported, trembling to its fall;
This temple none dar’d enter, scarce approach;
For down from sire to son an eld tradition
Went dimly warning, that whoever first
The temple visited should Jumala view!
This Helge heard, and in his blind fierce rage
The pathless wilds trod ‘gainst this deity
So hated from of old, all bent on razing
The temple’s heathen walls. But when he’d march’d
Up where the ruin threathen’d lo! all fast
The massy moss-grown door was clos’d; and, cover’d
With thick brown rust, the key still sat within it;
Grim Helge then, the door-posts gripping hard,
With rude, uncivil strain the mould’ring pillars
Fierce shook, and straightway with trememdous crash
The sculptur’d image fell, burying beneath it
Valhal’s impious son; and so dread Jumala
His eyes behold. A messenger in haste,
These tidings brought ere yet last night was ended.
Thy hand, brave Fridthjof, offer him. Revenge
And passion sacrifice to heav’n’s high gods;
This Balder’s shrine demandeth. I demand too,
As Balders’s hihgest priest, in token meet
That peace’s gentle chief thou hast not mocked
With vain professions and an empty homage.
Decide, my son! — shall Balder’s peace be broken?
If so, in vain thou’st built this fane, the token
Of mild forgiveness, and in vain ag’d priest hath spoken!”
With pallid brow
And fearful, fitful glance, advanceth slow
Tow’rds yonder tow’ring, ever-dreaded foe,
And, silent, at a distance stands.
Then Fridthjof, with quick hands,
The corselet hater, Angervadil, from his thigh
Unbuckleth, and his bright shield’s golden round
Leaning ‘gainst th’ altar, thus draws nigh;
While his cow’d enemy
He thus accosts, with pleasant dignity:
“Most noble in this strife will he be found
Who first his right hand good
Offers in pledge of peaceful brotherhood!”
Then Halfdan, deeply blushing, doffs with haste
His iron-guantlet and, with hearty grasp embrac’d,
Each long, long sever’d hand
Its friend-foe hails, steadfast as mountain bases stand!
The curse that rested on the varg i véum,
Fridthjof the outlaw; and as the last deep accents
Of reconcilement and of blessing sounded,
Lo! Ing’borg sudden enters, rich adorn’d
With bridal oranments, and all enrob’d
In gorgeous ermine, and by bright-ey’d maidens
Slow follow’d, as on heav’n’s broad canopy
Attending star-trains guard the regent moon!
But young bride’s fair eyes —
Those two blue skies —
Fill quick with tears,
And to her brother’s heart she trembling sinketh;
He, with his sister’s fears
Deep-mov’d, her hand all tenderly in Fridthjof’s linketh,
His burden soft transferring to that hero’s breast, —
Its long-tried, faith fit place for Ing’borg’s rest;
Then to her heart’s first, best beloved, her childhood’s friend,
In nuptial band
She gives her lily hand,
As before pard’ning Balder’s altar both low bend!
<< Previous Page Next Page >>
© 2004-2007 Northvegr.
Most of the material on this site is in the public domain. However, many people have worked very hard to bring these texts to you so if you do use the work, we would appreciate it if you could give credit to both the Northvegr site and to the individuals who worked to bring you these texts. A small number of texts are copyrighted and cannot be used without the author's permission. Any text that is copyrighted will have a clear notation of such on the main index page for that text. Inquiries can be sent to info@northvegr.org. Northvegr™ and the Northvegr symbol are trademarks and service marks of the Northvegr Foundation.
|