| |
| THE LAND was pale with famine | |
| And racked with fever-pain; | |
| The frozen fiords were fishless, | |
| The earth withheld her grain. | |
| |
| Men saw the boding Fylgja | 5 |
| Before them come and go, | |
| And, through their dreams, the Urdar-moon | |
| From west to east sailed slow! | |
| |
| Jarl Thorkell of Thevera | |
| At Yule-time made his vow; | 10 |
| On Rykdal’s holy Doom-stone | |
| He slew to Frey his cow. | |
| |
| To bounteous Frey he slew her; | |
| To Skuld, the younger Norn, | |
| Who watches over birth and death, | 15 |
| He gave her calf unborn. | |
| |
| And his little gold-haired daughter | |
| Took up the sprinkling-rod, | |
| And smeared with blood the temple | |
| And the wide lips of the god. | 20 |
| |
| Hoarse below, the winter water | |
| Ground its ice-blocks o’er and o’er; | |
| Jets of foam, like ghosts of dead waves, | |
| Rose and fell along the shore. | |
| |
| The red torch of the Jokul, | 25 |
| Aloft in icy space, | |
| Shone down on the bloody Horg-stones | |
| And the statue’s carven face. | |
| |
| And closer round and grimmer | |
| Beneath its baleful light | 30 |
| The Jotun shapes of mountains | |
| Came crowding through the night. | |
| |
| The gray-haired Hersir trembled | |
| As a flame by wind is blown; | |
| A weird power moved his white lips, | 35 |
| And their voice was not his own! | |
| |
| “The Æsir thirst!” he muttered; | |
| “The gods must have more blood | |
| Before the tun shall blossom | |
| Or fish shall fill the flood. | 40 |
| |
| “The Æsir thirst and hunger, | |
| And hence our blight and ban; | |
| The mouths of the strong gods water | |
| For the flesh and blood of man! | |
| |
| “Whom shall we give the strong ones? | 45 |
| Not warriors, sword on thigh; | |
| But let the nursling infant | |
| And bedrid old man die.” | |
| |
| “So be it!” cried the young men, | |
| “There needs nor doubt nor parle”; | 50 |
| But, knitting hard his red brows, | |
| In silence stood the Jarl. | |
| |
| A sound of woman’s weeping | |
| At the temple door was heard, | |
| But the old men bowed their white heads, | 55 |
| And answered not a word. | |
| |
| Then the Dream-wife of Thingvalla, | |
| A Vala young and fair, | |
| Sang softly, stirring with her breath | |
| The veil of her loose hair. | 60 |
| |
| She sang: “The winds from Alfheim | |
| Bring never sound of strife; | |
| The gifts for Frey the meetest | |
| Are not of death, but life. | |
| |
| “He loves the grass-green meadows, | 65 |
| The grazing kine’s sweet breath; | |
| He loathes your bloody Horg-stones, | |
| Your gifts that smell of death.” | |
| |
| “No wrong by wrong is righted, | |
| No pain is cured by pain; | 70 |
| The blood that smokes from Doom-rings | |
| Falls back in redder rain. | |
| |
| “The gods are what you make them, | |
| As earth shall Asgard prove; | |
| And hate will come of hating, | 75 |
| And love will come of love. | |
| |
| “Make dole of skyr and black bread, | |
| That old and young may live; | |
| And look to Frey for favor | |
| When first like Frey you give. | 80 |
| |
| “Even now o’er Njord’s sea-meadows | |
| The summer dawn begins; | |
| The tun shall have its harvest, | |
| The fiord its glancing fins.” | |
| |
| Then up and swore Jarl Thorkell: | 85 |
| “By Gimli and by Hel, | |
| O Vala of Thingvalla, | |
| Thou singest wise and well! | |
| |
| “Too dear the Æsir’s favors | |
| Bought with our children’s lives; | 90 |
| Better die than shame in living | |
| Our mothers and our wives. | |
| |
| “The full shall give his portion | |
| To him who hath most need; | |
| Of curdled skyr and black bread, | 95 |
| Be daily dole decreed.” | |
| |
| He broke from off his neck-chain | |
| Three links of beaten gold; | |
| And each man, at his bidding, | |
| Brought gifts for young and old. | 100 |
| |
| Then mothers nursed their children, | |
| And daughters fed their sires, | |
| And Health sat down with Plenty | |
| Before the next Yule fires. | |
| |
| The Horg-stones stand in Rykdal; | 105 |
| The Doom-ring still remains: | |
| But the snows of a thousand winters | |
| Have washed away the stains. | |
| |
| Christ ruleth now; the Æsir | |
| Have found their twilight dim; | 110 |
| And, wiser than she dreamed, of old | |
| The Vala sang of Him! | |
| |
