Two rímur preserved in Stockholm 22 (A) and Stockholm 23 (B), both parchment, 4°. Previously edited by E. Kölbing in his Beiträge (1876). No direct original has been identified. The cycle draws on the widespread medieval Virgil legend: the tale of the master wizard humiliated by a princess who leaves him hanging in a basket, and his revenge through the extinction of all fire. The poet names himself Glettudiktar at the close of MS A. These are the only known English translations of the cycle.

Ríma I

Prologue

1.
Fine making grows difficult for men—
the skald must hold his tongue;
though I work at the thorny ground
it will come to nothing.

2.
First let Berlingr's vessel sail
from the shore of learning's sea—
he is the one master in southern lands
before whom clever clerics bow.

3.
I have practiced on the Western course
and chosen all my matter:
of that shrewd ring-rider
and the convener of sword-gatherings.

4.
Virgil was the smith of verse;
he stood before all clever clerics;
the treasure-tree sought learning—
so it is widely written in books.

5.
He had explored all clerics in the world
and driven them from their evil arts;
he won honor from every one of them
he encountered in the lands.

6.
Clear learning flees from many men
when a dear swan shuns them—
I wish to tell a tale
of this man.

7.
Many a necklace-Lín he gladdened,
mostly at his own will;
each let her sweetness become his
if he wished to court her.

8.
A ruler governed a great hall;
his glory stood in bloom;
he had a costly cloth-tree [daughter]
born with honor.

9.
Virgil invited the ruler home
to a long feast,
with both honor and gold as well—
so will fortune have it.

10.
The prince sat as his honored guest in the hall;
the white wine was plentiful;
the keeper of the treasure-pool
blazed beautiful before him.

11.
Virgil spoke to the ruler:
“Fair must be the king's daughter—
I wish to look upon that bright one now,
the linden-tree of red rings.”

12.
“I will not withhold the necklace-stave—
you may both meet;
there you will hear wise words;
she knows great learning.”

13.
He hurried off to the bower
to find the bright lady;
“Master, come sit with the wise one!”—
said that mighty woman.

14.
The book-learning and all the arts—
I heard both put to use;
no other wealth-tree did he find
anywhere like her.

15.
“Wise is the maid,” said Virgil—
“I wish to clasp you in my arm;
my journey here was for that purpose—
little need to teach you further.”

16.
The most costly cloth-stave replied:
“Fool one might call you—
if you speak such words again,
you shall prosper not at all.”

17.
Virgil walked out at that
and would hear no more—
so I heard anger and grief grow
from the ring-goddess's words.

18.
The sword-Freyr came the next day
to find the wealth-tree;
the first visit had profited little—
and he let her know this:

19.
“Now the ring-ground shall hear
how this must go—
you shall learn my temper
or suffer the greatest sorrows.

20.
If you wish to refuse me, maiden,
I must make use of arts;
then shame will strike upon you
if we must strive at this.

21.
If you do my will
and accomplish it with ease,
your power shall not lessen—
no one will hear of it.”

[22–23.]
[Two stanzas not preserved in the OCR digitization of the source. The apparatus indicates: stanza 22 = the woman's response (first word svaráði, “answered”); stanza 23 = Virgil takes joy (main text) or begins to rejoice (MS B variant: nam gleðjaz). The probable reading: she feigned agreement; he was pleased. The Virgil basket legend requires this — she must appear to consent before setting the trap.]

24.
The sun moved off from the mountains—
it went long into the sea—
the ruler graciously gave Virgil
leave to depart.

25.
He crept secretly away into the night,
seeking what darkness brings;
it seems to me most fitting
that one comes near to something of the sort.

26.
The master went out into the darkness
just like any other man;
he finds what adds to grief:
a rope hanging there.

27.
The rope he wound quietly about him
and then jerked at the end;
those women hauled him up
who knew how to turn virtue.

28.
They pulled the master halfway—
great is women's wrath—
“Let him wait there,” said the ring-rider,
“till bright sun shines on the sky.”

29.
He jerks the rope and shakes aloft—
what has the woman in mind?—
laughter and sneering can be heard;
all mercy was forgotten.

30.
He quickly took his belt from himself
and tied it to the rope's end;
little closer to the ground was he then—
arts were needed.

31.
He held the pole with both hands
and pulled for long hours;
the branch had to give way beneath him—
earth and gravel below.

32.
That was a fall — his foot flew free;
he got a wound on his hand—
I would curse the ring-valkyrie
if I endured such from a woman.

33.
The art-filled woman drew the rope up
quietly in the dark;
there the belt was set with gold
and much silver coin in a purse.

34.
So bold was he that he pushed himself
home through the air to his servants—
“I have fallen out onto the street—
greatly will this harm us.”

35.
He laid himself down in bed
and put splints on his foot;
the ring grips painfully around his heart—
the man is stripped of joy.

36.
The king came to the healers then—
that was not long delayed;
they said his foot was set in place;
the hand-graze heals fair.

37.
Though his legs were healed
and his shoulder's burdens light,
the man lies days like nights—
dark grief is upon him.

38.
The queen sent her handmaid out:
“You shall tell the master:
go seek wise Virgil—
I wish to see him myself.”

39.
The girl spoke to the necklace-being:
“Greatest is this grief's peril—
go find the ring-ground;
she will receive you quickly.”

40.
Virgil sprang quickly to his feet
and went in scarlet clothing;
his heart grew glad at its root—
he cast off grief and weariness.

41.
He hurried out to the bower
to find the bright maiden—
“Have you been gripped by great sorrow?”—
the woman began to ask.

42.
“All my love I give to you—
you are the best of clerks—
if you would do me this one favor:
become a horse just now.”

43.
“I know not why you ask this,
sweetest ring-Nanna”—
the verse-smith became a horse;
I heard the swan make her move.

44.
She bridled then the quick horse
and fastened the fine saddle;
she fixed spurs upon her feet—
the woman was eager to ride.

45.
That was done thoroughly to the prince
as he had come to walk her flanks;
the maiden spurred the hollow-deer—
ice lay on the hillsides then.

46.
Forward over lava and hard gullies
the silk-woman galloped;
snow often lay near the path—
ditches had to be crossed.

47.
The maiden galloped over the crags so hard
that fire flew up against her;
hooves split on the lava—
the sole grew sore on rock.

48.
The prince was driven hard about the head;
hot ran blood from his wounds;
the spurs cut sharply at his flanks—
no dry cloth for his withers.

49.
All day in a wild ride
the wealth-woman galloped;
the whip was often hard on his flanks—
least fit to linger.

50.
The day was spent when the swan rode
back to visit her hall;
the maiden had to slacken the pace—
much easier to sit.

51.
The swan yanked the saddle from the horse
and set the bit around his forehead:
“Devil's son, run off there—
rather than you embrace me.”

52.
Virgil was bruised and weary
and could barely walk;
so has the wise swan always
conquered the bold warrior.

53.
He stumbled home through the air
and laid himself down in bed.
Fjölnir's wine must first flow from them
into the measure of hours.

Ríma II

1.
Just now the good ship of the East
crashed on fury's shore—
then the work will seem wanting
if such craft is made.

2.
It was told me that the whip-ground
stripped the warrior of all mercy;
this will quickest slow the temper—
all cunning is at an end.

3.
The clerk recovered, though slowly;
he was eager to ride—
I cannot tell men clearly
just how far he traveled.

4.
The man rode away—as was expected—
and thanked the king for his honor;
he did not bid farewell to the wealth-goddess—
she retained all her bloom.

5.
This mocking deed may be heard of—
the one the ring-stave committed;
their contest the ornament-ground
wrote up on her cloth.

6.
Old women spread it abroad,
all women and children who speak it:
“Virgil means to seduce
all the women here.”

7.
The ruler grew angry at those
who spread the clerk's disgrace;
I must tell the people
what next came to hand.

8.
Early in the day in the ruler's hall
the men stood in their clothes;
the cauldron-fires had grown cold—
such is come into the story.

9.
Cooks ran through streets and squares,
hurrying to their work;
no fire was found in the city—
all marveled when they heard.

10.
The men sought fire then—
it brought them only grief;
it extinguished, and the people suffered—
as was seen throughout the city.

11.
So it went on for more than a month;
they could not have fire;
the king saw that soon
he must abandon the city.

12.
The king walked out from his hall;
the people followed close behind;
a man came before him then—
none will wonder at it.

13.
The man was aged, an arrow's friend,
all gray about the hair;
the great steel-breaker wore
a shaggy old coat.

14.
He greeted the king with full honor
and offered a fair salute:
“Your fire is gone, my lord—
it is mocked at far and wide.

15.
I count it the king's duty
to examine such a danger—
have you, lord, sought no remedy at all?”

16.
“Indeed we are at fortune's edge;
wisdom begins to fail me—
but speak your remedy if you see one;
you shall be rewarded truly.”

17.
“The men will find it shameful,
though necessity presses—
I am slow to speak the remedy;
truly that is the hardship.

18.
Raise an assembly in this city—
it shall last three nights;
neither in the districts nor the squares
shall men stay home.

19.
Set up fire-bellows on a high hill
and bring eight bellows to the work;
fire will come on the fourth sun—
I will vouch for that, king.

20.
Have your daughter, lord,
stripped of her clothes by men;
the wealth-Lín will not be harmed—
I shall answer for it.

21.
Four bold warriors
shall hold the woman's legs apart;
her head shall rest upon the hill,
and all shall work the bellows.”

22.
“With bellows wind on both sides
the bride's thighs shall be fanned;
none but the spring of wealth
can remedy this for the king.”

23.
The mild lord spoke back to him—
I must pick up his words—
“That devil's son shall be hanged
who puts such shame on my daughter.”

24.
“The gallows will not harm me—
guard yourself from danger.
Take that counsel the ruler
feels will find you better grace.”

25.
The old man scurried off to the forest;
there their meeting parted;
the king pondered deeply on the hardship
and how it might be resolved.

26.
This counted as struggle and difficulty—
that he should put it to the test;
the assembly summons went through the squares—
the queen was to know nothing of it.

27.
So thick were the men at the assembly—
rare are such examples—
the lord also called his daughter there
and the men to that place.

28.
The queen came with her women's troop—
she knew all the arts—
every man who looked on the ring-tree
had little care for sorrow.

29.
The bride yielded up her strength—
she meant to stand quietly—
“Now is the time,” said the powerful king,
“for the people to lend a hand.”

30.
Many seized the necklace-tree;
men stripped her of her clothes;
all the swan-troop looked on;
the king himself saw this.

31.
They turned her head downward
and held up both her feet;
the woman was given little peace—
the queen was stripped of grace.

32.
Men held her thighs apart
and looked between her legs;
there was heat but no tinder there—
hard blowing must be done.

33.
So hard were the bellows blown
that it bellowed in the hocks;
Virgil was not stinting
in paying the woman back for her game.

34.
The cold blast came slowly on;
the men worked at full strength;
cups were held directly at the cowl;
most found it wearing, I say.

35.
Two great hours went by;
the wood dripped with men's sweat;
no closer to a bright flame
than blowing at cold stone.

36.
The men traded off at the blowing—
little arranged for their ease;
yet there came at last, though long the wait,
a loosing of smoke and vapor.

37.
Sparks flew out of brightness swiftly—
things improve indeed at the forge—
the people were now wonderfully glad
and rejoiced in their work.

38.
There came that old man who had given the advice—
a torch in his hand:
“Here has the ember found its kindling—
noble is this woman.”

39.
Men brought firewood to it
and hurried home with fire;
neither flame nor bath was lacking
to the men that evening.

40.
The fire never went out again—
the swan bowed her head always—
until a hearth-fire followed every man
home to his dwelling.

41.
Then the fire began to fall low;
I heard the swan speak:
“I have received shame and great grief
at this man's hands.

42.
It was deserved,” said the necklace-oak,
“though I get little power from it—
I was so firm in this play
that I would soften toward no man.

43.
Whoever causes the great lady
to mock the gold-tree of men,
may fire burn between both her legs
and may I pray it cannot be quenched.

44.
I have received shame and grief firmly,”
the swan said thoughtfully;
“women should beware of this above all—
to refuse any man.

45.
Whoever offers a sweet kiss
and will not grant grace after,
grimly will that jewel of gold
pay for such a danger.

46.
Whoever promises her favor
and will not bring herself to it—
that woman shall receive my example;
I may boldly swear to it.”

Colophon

Translated from Old and Middle Icelandic by the New Tianmu Anglican Church. Source: Rímnasafn II, ed. Finnur Jónsson, Copenhagen 1905–1922, pp. 856–870. Manuscripts: Stockholm 22 (A, primary) and Stockholm 23 (B, secondary), both parchment, 4°. The editorial Bemærkninger in the Rímnasafn edition were consulted for difficult readings and variant manuscript readings.

The Virgilesrímur belongs to the medieval Virgil legend cycle, a body of European folklore entirely distinct from Virgil the classical poet. The legend-Virgil is a sorcerer: the most learned man in the world, possessing complete mastery over the natural and magical arts. Two famous tales circulated widely from at least the 12th century: the basket story (Virgil humiliated by a princess who leaves him hanging overnight in a basket raised to her window) and the fire story (Virgil extinguishes all fire in the city; it can only be retrieved from a woman's body). Both appear in Latin, French, German, and Dutch versions. This Icelandic rímur cycle combines both tales into a single narrative in which the princess and Virgil are the same principals throughout.

The poet names himself Glettudiktar at the close of MS A: “nv eru vti Glettvdickta totrar” — “now Glettudiktar's verses are out.” Nothing more is known of this poet.

Stanzas 22–23 of Ríma I are not preserved in the OCR digitization of the source. The editorial apparatus in Rímnasafn confirms they existed; variant readings survive but the full stanza text is obscured in the scan. The gap is noted in the translation. Two rímur: Ríma I 51 recovered stanzas (53 total, 2 damaged), Ríma II 46 stanzas.

The closing monologue of the princess (Ríma II, stanzas 41–46) is a remarkable piece of forced public confession staged for maximum humiliation. The princess applies Virgil's revenge to herself as a general lesson and issues a curse against any woman who refuses a man. The translator has rendered it without softening.

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Source Text

The complete Old/Middle Icelandic source text for both rímur is preserved in the extracted file at Tulku/rimur-tools/vol2_source/11_search.txt (pages 856–870), drawn from the digitized Rímnasafn Vol. 2 (Internet Archive, public domain). Primary manuscripts Stockholm 22 and 23 (Kungliga biblioteket, Stockholm) are parchment codices.

Source Colophon

From Rímnasafn: Samling af de ældste islændske Rimer, Bind 2, ed. Finnur Jónsson (Copenhagen: S. L. Møllers Bogtrykkeri, 1905–1922), pp. 856–870. Primary manuscript: Stockholm 22, 4°; secondary: Stockholm 23, 4°. Published by Samfund til Udgivelse af gammel nordisk Litteratur, XXXV.

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