1. Wake up, Groa!
wake up, good woman!
at the gates of death I wake thee!
if thou remembrest,
that thou thy son badest
to thy grave_mound to come.
2. What now troubles
my only son?
With what affliction art thou burthened,
that thou thy mother callest,
who to dust is come,
and from human homes departed?
3. A hateful game
thou, crafty woman, didst set before me,
whom my father has in his bosom cherished,
when thou bides me go
no one knows whither,
Menglöd to meet.
4. Long is the journey,
long are the ways,
long are men´s desires.
If it so fall out,
that hou thy will obtainest,
the event must then be as it may.
5. Sing to me songs
which are good.
Mother! protect thy son.
Dead on my way
I fear to be.
I seem to young in years.
The Saga of Hervör and Heithrek
Hervör spoke :
Awaken, Angantyr, hearken to me!
The only daughter of Tofa and thee
Is here and bids thee awake!
Give me from out the barrow's shade
The keen-edged sword which the dwarfs once made
For Svafrlami's sake.
Hervarth, Hjörvarth, Angantyr,
And Hrani, under the tree-roots here,
I bid you now appear;--
Clad in harness and coat of mail,
With shield and broadsword of biting steel,
Helmet and reddened spear!
The sons of Arngrim are changed indeed
To heaps of dust, and Eyfura's seed
Has crumbled into mould.--
In Munarvagar will no one speak
To her who has come thus far to seek
Discourse with the men of old?
Hervarth, Hjörvarth, Angantyr
And Hrani, great be your torment here
If ye will not hear my words.
Give me the blade that Dvalin made;
It is ill becoming the ghostly dead
To keep such costly swords!
In your tortured ribs shall my curses bring
A maddening itch and a frenzied sting,
Till ye writhe in agonies,
As if ye were laid to your final rest
Where the ants are swarming within their nest,
And revelling in your thighs!
Then answered Angantyr:
O Hervör, daughter, why dost thou call
Words full of cursing upon us all?
Thou goest to meet thy doom!
Mad art thou grown, and thy wits are fled;
Thy mind is astray, that thou wak'st the dead
—The dwellers in the tomb.
No father buried me where I lie,
Nor other kinsman ...
The only two who remained unslain
Laid hold on Tyrfing, but now again
One only possesses the sword.
Nought save the truth shalt thou tell to me!
May the ancient gods deal ill with thee
If thou harbour Tyrfing there!
Thine only daughter am I, and yet
Unwilling thou art that I should get
That which belongs to thine heir!
5. "What is the man, | to me unknown,
That has made me travel | the troublous road?
I was snowed on with snow, | and smitten with rain,
And drenched with dew; | long was I dead."
6. "Vegtam my name, | I am Valtam's son;
Speak thou of hell, | for of heaven I know:
For whom are the benches | bright with rings,
And the platforms gay | bedecked with gold?"
The Wise-Woman spake:
7. "Here for Baldr | the mead is brewed,
The shining drink, | and a shield lies o'er it;
But their hope is gone | from the mighty gods.
Unwilling I spake, | and now would be still."