Völuspá – The Sibyl's Saying

Текст взят с сайта http://www.germanicmythology.com/. By Ananda Kentish Coomaraswarmy.

The present translation of Völuspa, the 'Sibyl's Saying,' is made from the text of Codex Regius, as edited by Dr. Ferdinand Detter (Vienna 1899) and by Detter and Heinzel (Leipzig, 1903) without rearrangement of the text, or the elimination of additions or interpolations. For other translations, the reader should consult the Corpus Poeticum Boreale; and the translation by Miss Bray, issued by the Viking Club. The best short introduction to the subject, with a bibliography, is issued in Mr. Nutt's series of Popular Studies in Mythology, Romance and Folklore, viz. 'The Edda: I, The Divine Mythology of the North,' by Winifred Fariday. A first edition of the present translation, no longer obtainable, consisted of forty copies, printed in Kandy, Ceylon, in 1905.

The translator is very greatly indebted to Professor J. Lawrence, Litt.D., of Tokyo University and to Mr. Eirikr Magnusson, M.A., of Cambridge for many suggestions and revisions.

 

ARGUMENT

The Sibyl begins with the explanatory words, ''Tis they will, Valfather, that well I speak out far tales of the folk, which first I recall.' She then tells of the shaping of the Earth and Sky by the sons of Bor, the ordering of the Lights of Heaven, the building of a Holy stead by the Gods on Ida Meadow, and of their golden age, until the coming of three Giant-maids; the creation of dwarfs; the creation of the first Man and Woman out of stocks of wood; of the Ash Yggdrassil, and of the Norns; Of the war between the Aesir and the Vanes; and of the battle with the Giants who had won the Goddess Freyja. Then follows a reference to the pledges of the Gods, and a list of the Valkyries. Passing to the future, the Sibyl foretells the death of Baldr, vengeance taken, and the chaining of Loki; describes both Hel and Giant-home; and tells of the Doom of the Gods, the destruction of the World by fire, and the release of Loki's offspring. The last seven verses tell of a new Heaven and Earth, and how the Gods shall dwell again in gladness; the dragon Nidhogg flits the slain. The Sibyl sinks back into silence.

 

For heed I beseech

all holy kindreds,

higher and lower

from Heimdal sprung.

'Tis they will, Valfather,

that well I speak out

far tales of the folk

which first I recall.

 

The kindred of giants

comes first to my mind

who formed and fed me

in the far ages.

Nine homes I recall

homesteads nine i' the tree,

the mighty Miotvith

the mould beneath.

 

Till the sons of Bor

the broad lands raised,

they who Midgard

the mighty shaped.

The Sun from the South

lit briny shingle,

then was the ground

with green leek covered.

 

The Sun from the South

-the Moon is her fellow-

on the rim of Heaven

his right hand laid.

Sun that wist not

where were his halls,

Stars that wist not

where their steads were,

Moon that wist not

what might was hers.

 

Then the dread Gods all

to the doomseats yode,

the righteous and holy

to arede this thing:

names to the night

and new moon they gave-

morning and midday,

undern and evening

by name they called

to number the years.

 

Till forth from that folk

fared three of the Gods,

kindly and mighty

and came to a home.

On the land they found

of little might

Ask and Embla

aimless-fated.

 

Breath they had not,

nor wits were theirs

nor blood nor movement

nor goodly hues.

Breath gave Odinn

Wits gave Hœnir

blood gave Lodur

and hues of beauty.

 

An Ash stands, I wis,

Yggdrasil hight,

a high tree sprent

with hoary drops.

Thence comes dews

i' the dales that fall.

Green stands it aye

o'er Urda's spring.

 

Thence come three Mays

that mickle wot of,

forth from the stead

that stands neath that tree,

'Was' hight one,

'Is now' the second-

scored they a shingle-

'Shall be' the third.

She wots where hidden

is Heimdal's ear,

beneath the air-wont

holy tree.

She sees it prent

and splashed with drops

from Valfather's pledge.

More would ye wit and what;

 

Alone she sat out

when the Old One came,

the Aesir's dread

and eyed her there.

'Why dost thou seek me

and wouldst thou learn?

Long, Odinn, I've known

where thine eye thou hidst

in the famous mere

hight Mimir's spring.

 

Mead each morning

Mimir drinketh

from Valfather's pledge.

More would ye wit of and what?

Host-father gave her

necklace and rings,

with wisdom's redes

and runes of foresight

well she wotteth

of worlds everyone.

 

From far and wide

the Valkyrs she sees

bound to ride to warrior folk

Skuld bore shield

and Skogul a second,

Gunn and Hild,

Gondul and Geir-Skogul –

now the tale is heard

of Herian's Mays,

Valkyrs ready to ride

o'er the Earth.

 

Strife I saw

in store for Balder;

bathed in blood,

seemed bairn of Odinn.

High o'er the ground

there grew a shaft

mild and most fair-

the mistletoe.

 

Harmful and deadly

Hoth did loose it:

though weak it seemed

as it waxed on that tree.

Balder's brother

was born full early;

but one night old

fought Odinn's son.

 

He neither cut

nor combed his hair

till Balder's bane

was borne to the flames,

and Frigg bewailed him

in Fensalir,

Valhalla's woe.

More would ye wit of and what?

 

'Neath

Hveralund

She saw in fetters

one in the likeness

of Loki the guileful

 

There Sigyn sits,

that small glee hath,

beside her mate.

More would ye wit of and what?

 

Falls on him East-fro

i' the ice-cold dale,

like swords and saxes,

Slithr's stream.

Northward stands

on Nitha-field the golden hall

of Sindri's kin,

but another stood on Okolnir,

the Giants beer-hall,

Brimir hight.

 

Far from the sun

she saw a hall

whose doors face North

on Nastrand stand.

Venom-drops

dripped through the luffer;

its walls were wattled

with worms' spines.

 

Murder-wolves

and men forsworn

she saw there wading

in swirling streams

wights who beguile

the wives of others.

There Nidhogg sucks

dead men's bodies

and tears men's corpses.

More would ye·wit of and what?

 

East in the iron-wood

the old hag sat,

there she fostered

Fenrir's offspring.

One above all

issues there-from

in the shape of a troll

the sun's pursuer.

 

On dead men's bodies

battens he,

and reddens God-home

with ruddy gore.

Swart is the sunshine

of summers thereafter,

the weather all evil.

More would ye wit of and what?

 

Sat there on howe,

the harp a-smiting,

the Ogress' herdsman-

Eggthir the merry.

A fair red cock that

Fjallar hight on the roosting pole

beside him crowed.

 

Over the Gods

crowed Goldencomb,

at Heriafather's

folk he wakes;

but 'neath the Earth

another crows,

a ruddy cock

in the halls of Hel.

 

Grimly bays Garm

in Gnipa-hel,

the rivets shall rend

and the ravener go free.

Great is my insight

the far future I see,

e'en the death of the Gods,

the dread battle-lords.

 

Brothers will fight,

each the bane of the other,

and sister's children

sibship shame.

 

Ill waxes the world,

whoredom is rife,

Axe-age, Sword-age –

cloven are shields –

ere the world is o'erwhelmed

Wind-age, Wolf-age:

nor shall any man then

of others be sparing.

 

Mimir's sons are awaked

but the end's made known

by Gjoll's horn

that harshly sounds.

Hard blows Heimdal,

his horn is aloft,

Odinn speaks with Mimir's head,

the towering ash Yggdrasil shakes.

 

Grimly bays Garm

in Gnipa-hel,

the rivets shall rend

and the raverier wend free.

Great is my insight

the far future I see,

e' en the death of the Gods,

the dread battle-lords.

 

Hrym driveth East-fro

upholding shield,

the great snake writhes

in Giant-rage.

Worm lashes sea

white-nebbed, corpse-ravening

loud crieth eagle,

loose fares Naglfar.

 

Kioll sails East-fro,

while Loki steers,

Muspell's sons

on the sea shall fare.

Fiendish wights

wend all with the ravener,

Byleist's brother

bears them company.

 

What is't with the Gods?

what is't with the Elves?

all Giant-home roars,

the Aesir hold thing;

at their stony doors

the dwarfs are groaning

the wise in rock-walls.

More would ye wit of and what?

 

Surt fares South-fro

with switch's bane,

bright shines his sword

the sun of the Gods.

Rocks crash together,

ruined are Ogresses,

Hel's path men tread

and Heaven is cleft.

 

Then is Hlein's second

sorrow afoot,

when Odinn fares

to fight the wolf;

Beli's bright bane

battles with Surt,

there falls fated

Frigg's delight.

 

Then the mighty son

of Sigfather comes,

Vithar, to wage

war with the corpse-eater

In Hvethrung's son's heart

with both hands a sword

he thrusteth home,

so his father's avenged.

 

Then comes Hlothyn's

glorious son,

to fight the adder

fares Odinn's child.

Midgard's warder

in grim mood slays him-

far from their homesteads

shall all men roam-

scarce nine feet aback

gets Fjorgyn's son

from the Worm unafraid

of evil fame.

 

Earth sinks in the sea

the sun grows dark,

the shining stars

from the sky roll down;

steam clouds form

and fostering fire;

the flame high rising

licks Heaven itself.

 

Grimly bays Garm

in Gnipa-hel,

the rivets shall rend

and the ravener wend free.

 

Great is my insight,

the far future I see

e'en the death of the Gods

the dread battle-lords.

 

She gazes on earth

grown green anew

once more arisen

out from the sea.

Forces are falling-

high o' er the fell

the eagle flies

and catches fish.

 

On Ida's meadow

are met the Aesir,

on the great Earth-thong

they there give doom,

and call to mind

their mighty doings

and the far-off runes

of Fimbultyr.

 

In the grass sithence

golden tables

wondrous fair

found shall there be,

that there own race had

in olden days.

 

Then all unsown

shall the acres bear,

all bale shall abate

and Balder come;

Hod and Balder shall dwell

in Hropt's hall glorious –

Battle-Gods blissful.

More would ye wit of and what?

 

Twigs of lottery

shall Hœnir choose.

In a broad wind-home

the brothers' children

of Tweggi dwell.

More would ye wit of and what?

 

More fair than Sun

she sees a hall

with golden thatch

on Gimle stand.

Therein shall dwell

all holy beings

and lead evermore

a life of bliss.

 

Up comes the dusky

dragon flying

from Nithafell,

a flashing worm

he flies o'er the fields;

on feathers Nidhogg

flits the slain.

Now she must sink.

 

Printed at the Essex House Press, in the Norman Chapel at Broad Campden. Sold at the Essex House Press and by David Nutt, Long Acre, London. January, 1909.

Of One Hundred Copies printed, this is No. 22.