Numarimur — The Rimur of King Numa Pompilius

The Rímur of King Numa Pompilius

The masterwork of Sigurður Breiðfjörð (1798–1846), the most celebrated rímur poet of 19th-century Iceland. Written in Greenland, published in Copenhagen in 1835, these eighteen rímur retell the life of Numa Pompilius, the legendary second king of Rome — from the founding of the city and the rape of the Sabine women, through the Sabine wars and the death of Romulus, to Numa's peaceful reign, his communion with the nymph Egeria, and the establishment of Roman religion and law.

Breiðfjörð chose Numa deliberately. In his preface, he argued that rímur should abandon fabricated troll-stories and turn to history — subjects worthy of an enlightened people. Numa, the philosopher-king who gave Rome its calendar, its priesthoods, and its peace, was his answer. The poem was an immediate sensation and remains the single most famous rímur cycle of the modern period.

This is the first known English translation. Translated from the Icelandic by the New Tianmu Anglican Church, with source text from Icelandic Wikisource (is.wikisource.org), based on the 1835 Copenhagen first edition.

Fyrsta Ríma — First Ríma

Mansöngr to Iðunn; the founding of Rome; the Rape of the Sabine Women; Pompíll fights to save his wife; he reaches the temple of Ceres and dies; his son Numa is born; the Sabine army marches on Rome.

1.
Descend now through the shining deep,
clad in white raiment,
dearest Iðunn! the All-Father gave
you to us as bride.

2.
Mother of my gentle verses,
mild, fair to behold,
let me wrap myself within
the wave-laws of your arms.

3.
The spirit-born children of our kin,
the offspring you have fostered —
let them eat the undying apples
from your breast.

4.
Since you hold those apples high
that hurl away the skin of age,
ah! do not let
my young ones die.

5.
Unborn fate may drag me down
toward the crags of death,
but I will not let the Norn
spite our children, Iðunn.

6.
Come now, my high healing!
Strengthen the sick mind,
heavenly one, lend me your voice
and gentle art of verse.

7.
Fill your blessed breast now,
brighten the mind's eye;
every verse you bless
that our harp sounds forth.

8.
Our friends, Iðunn — those
whom noble nature graces —
we dare to bring the children small
and bid him take them in.

9.
Though alone we toil here,
among the sons of Greenland,
we let the song-birds
play in their nesting-grounds.

10.
My storm-swift spirit needs
no one to weigh its skill;
whenever I wish, it is easy at hand
to be home in Fróni.

11.
The bird saw far beneath it
the veil of clouds below;
now it flies southward
to the plains of Italy.

12.
And so from there unhesitant,
home to Iceland's men,
to tell what tidings each place
most has to bring.

13.
High-born noble Friend,
upon your mighty seat-throne,
do not drive away my bird
that would sing for you.

14.
All was inhabited — of this the records
are in our hands —
great regions in elder ages,
in the lands of Italy.

15.
There where the empty lands lie
and Latium's plains shine,
first they came to build Rome,
upon the Palatine hill.

16.
Romulus and Remus both,
whom the writings call brothers,
sons of Mars they were,
kinsmen of Procas.

17.
Of all cities, Rome in council
is reckoned greatest among men;
upon seven high hills she
lifts her walls to heaven.

18.
Before the city was fully built,
stripped of bloom and honour,
by the counsel of Romulus,
Remus died, slain.

19.
He who wrought the bloody bath
and ordained his brother's torment,
he let the high place be named
by his own name.

20.
The city's host in battles fierce
has ever been at war;
not one of them wraps the dear kin
in a woman's arms.

21.
That was a loss, in that city,
for no woman could be found!
Can you guess how long
they could endure that?

22.
Now of other folk
a new tale must be told:
beside Latium's lords there lies
the land of Sabinia.

23.
King Tatius among his men
holds the reins of rule;
no bully does he shield,
nor yields before any threat.

24.
He knew to ward off trouble and strife
and reap the harvest first,
to defend his land and people
was his earnest care.

25.
He honours virtue with esteem,
endowed with fine blessings;
no people love anyone better
than their king.

26.
Equal to the king in honour
is his loyal kinsman:
Pompíll is the name he bears,
a warrior battle-proved.

27.
He steers the host and guards
with his precious blade;
he diminishes his foes before him
so that peace may dwell in the land.

28.
He won the sun-wheel's fair prize,
the noble lord's bride:
Pompilía is her name,
wrapped in the serpent's coil.

29.
Their tender love grew sore with longing,
both grieved thereby;
ten years have passed
and no child was born to them.

30.
They honoured many a god,
men learned of old,
calling for luck and shelter on
every power they knew.

31.
Greatest trust among the people
bore — for the signs were plain —
the Seed-goddess Ceres there
in the Sabine land.

32.
Her temple stands adorned
where green forests rise;
oak-branches have spread wide
above the roof-ridge.

33.
A great crowd of priests
serves the goddess there;
the most honoured of all
is the one called Tullus.

34.
Pompilía finds the renowned
priest and bids him:
let the ancient rites be done
that her womb might quicken.

35.
He robes himself for this,
eager here to help;
together they kneel with one heart
at the altar and pray.

36.
Thus the Lady: "Holy, high,
heavenly goddess best,
look upon me now in mercy —
all I feel is failing.

37.
While I cannot be a mother
for the finest of men,
I find no joy in anything else;
I would bear what is good.

38.
If mercy bends to me and grants
that I might conceive a son,
though I die, I shall give thanks
to you in the birthing.

39.
If a son is then given me,
the choice is good:
I give him and consecrate him to you —
be you his mother!"

40.
Thus she prayed, often and long;
the matter was resolved:
after that the fair woman
found herself with child.

41.
Gentle gladness wraps
the hearts of the couple high;
the time begins to pass
until the birth demands.

42.
Now the city of Rome is built;
word is sent to Sabinia,
and gracious letters come
bidding all to the new city.

43.
There a holy festival is to be held,
the greatest feast of the gods;
whoever bears the will and means,
let the guests be welcome.

44.
Many desire this then,
flocks come running there
to see the wondrous city's form,
both men and women.

45.
Pompíll follows the people there,
attended by a troop of maidens,
like a wave of blooming red,
his wife heavy with child.

46.
Into the city each man presses
with eager foot;
Romulus takes command
and seats the warriors.

47.
The noble speaks from the throne,
all eyes turn to him;
upon the prince's garments blazed
the lights of Élivágar.

48.
When he settles in the high seat,
dread swept from him;
the tallest of all men,
a prince he seemed.

49.
He, unsmiling, surveyed the host,
seated on a lower tier;
grim and swollen is his face,
his eyes sharp and bitter.

50.
Thus the falcon sweeps his gaze
from the mountainside,
where he finds the small birds
fluttering in the green valleys.

51.
The high lord gives the signal;
the Romans understand —
they take up the bitter swords
and sing the clash-song.

52.
Battle begins and quarrels then,
in the fashion of base thralls;
boldly they drag wives and daughters
from the guest-seated peace.

53.
The Sabines see the plunder,
their brows darken;
they rush here, weaponless,
and ill-prepared besides.

54.
They grapple with the foe,
not guarding their lives;
but the swords pass through them,
through their unshielded flesh.

55.
The weeping of women overpowers
all other cries;
their husbands and fathers fall
and lose their lives.

56.
The Romans spare nothing more,
they press the burning steel;
the men drive the women into hiding
and fell all who resist.

57.
Death awaits each man
who hinders the seizing of brides;
some flee home wounded,
dishonoured from the field.

58.
Of Pompíll let us tell first
where the tumult worsens;
he seeks to reach his own wife
where the villains struggle.

59.
The champion carries his bride in his arms,
he manages to flee the house;
a troop pursues him —
now his luck fails.

60.
They tear the lady from him,
drive him hard from behind;
from one of them the prince seizes
the drawn and whetted sword.

61.
Blue lightning of Blindr flashed
in the prince's hands;
he lays them down in a ring,
sparing none of the grey foes.

62.
Arrow-wounds he takes from bows,
the lord stands firm still;
whoever dares come near him
is burned by the war-god's flame.

63.
The thralls give up the fight at that;
the prince, his wife unharmed,
wraps her within
his blood-stained arms.

64.
Far off, the lioness
watches from the broad road,
the armed hunter approaching
her nest.

65.
Her fury swells fierce,
she will test her courage;
she roars, foams, shakes her mane,
crushes stones in her claws.

66.
She will not settle for mere flight —
she is ablaze like tinder;
she tears, rends, seizes him,
rips the heart asunder.

67.
Then over her young ones, soothed,
she wraps herself around;
her tongue, which hid in blood,
now gives them tending.

68.
Where bloody rage had stormed,
in her breast the fierce hatred,
now a mother's love is present,
deeply gentle.

69.
Pompíll, nimble, went on his way
with his dear burden, swiftly;
from his limbs the blood runs,
the path turns red.

70.
He reaches the holy temple,
beside the high altar;
he sets down his weary load
and begs the protection of Ceres.

71.
He put aside the wound-bearing limb
and laid down the sword;
from there he hastens a few steps
and falls down dead.

72.
The head-priest Tullus came
and found the bride;
there, at the greatest sound of grief,
sorrow crushed the heart.

73.
All the anguish struck at once,
no rescue shone;
the pangs of birth
assail and torment her.

74.
Tullus did his best to help;
with signs of life grown pale,
the woman bore a son, and then
slept away from suffering.

75.
The wise priest remembered
the wife's prayer;
to his own dear goddess
he consecrates the boy and gives him.

76.
He carries him home to his own house,
to a quiet chamber;
women tend the boy for him —
his name is Numa.

77.
A pyre with splendour was prepared
for both the couple's bodies;
the people of the land followed there,
for King Tatius high.

78.
All the host bore grief,
the gentle women cried;
the lord swore by the flame
to avenge his fallen friend.

79.
From the burning, the men of Pompíll
soon march into the city;
men flock to arms —
the women's wrong burns hot.

80.
The prince himself, the chieftain,
sets the battle-order;
quaking hearts, rage-swollen,
hatred spurs the host.

81.
Where the furious march begins,
with men of every kind:
the sky splits, the earth groans,
the cliffs moan and weep.

82.
Bushes scatter, trees fall,
the grasses creep into hiding;
the rivers surge from their beds,
all creatures tremble.

83.
All that lives flees before
the terror of the grim weather,
as over their backs
the dread host treads.

84.
Thus the fierce age pressed on,
though often meeting storms,
until they resolved to raise their tents
at the borders of Rome.

Ønnur Ríma — Second Ríma

1.
Not yet had the ancient world
found the hidden mercy —
that pale-blue poison-ember
in the bowels of the earth.

2.
You who set town and city
ablaze in a single breath —
who brought you into this world,
you flame of the death-pit?

3.
You who dare to raise your voice
against the thunder's song,
and mercilessly strike all things
down into ash.

4.
Though a coward's hand may kindle you,
the good warrior falls,
and you lay waste to lands
in the Devil's fire.

5.
Wherever you are set loose,
you are eager to harm;
before you not even the blue mountains
may stand in peace.

6.
Murder and treachery follow you
if a woman steers your hand,
for you never cease
to work your ruin.

7.
Warriors, fortresses, houses, ships
on the harbour's soft pillows —
all become in a single flash
fuel in your jaws.

8.
Foul darkness gathers with you,
and the shapes of the worst phantoms,
when your cinder-sickness draws
rings around the eye.

9.
Let every living thought despise you
in heaven, on sea, and on land —
ages, days, and moments
full of smouldering harm.

10.
Neither need I nor will I
lengthen this poem about you;
you were not yet in existence
in the battles of my heroes.

11.
When the blue brow of day
changes the custom of time,
the sun steps down from sight
and sinks — they call her Gríma.

12.
The old woman Hildr calls then
for warriors to rise to their feet;
upon the hawk-grounds the blue frost
kindles Bölverk's fire.

13.
Ravens gather above the battle-field,
calling together in flocks,
boasting that they know
those who are fated to fall.

14.
Eagles come and hold their council,
keen-eyed, cackling,
curling every claw in a ring
and craning their dark beaks.

15.
The wolf knows the time and place;
the prey tickles his palate.
But King Tatius and his host
march against the gates of Rome.

16.
Those folk who before in the hall
robbed the ladies of their feast-cups —
he bids them out upon the broad field
to face the bride of Heðinn.

17.
Romulus burns with fury,
quick to seize his weapons,
calls aloud upon his men;
the vault of the hall resounds.

18.
Forth upon the wading-field of Rome
they arm themselves for slaughter,
weapons all aloft,
edges turning toward flesh.

19.
The Sabines raise a battle-din,
engage with savage fury,
rushing like a waterfall
down from a sheer cliff.

20.
Blood floated below in the pools
under the wounds' serpents;
men sink into death's lap,
each upon the other's feet.

21.
Long the sword-storm assailed
the host in grey shields;
not one stepped back a foot;
the field fills with the slain.

22.
So does noble Rán
let her daughters harry
the feet of the earth without peace,
and batter the roots of the mountains;

23.
She would clear the kingdom's narrows
and rule the whole world;
her industry is very fierce,
but it is hard to batter the mountains;

24.
She rouses the dead from the deep;
they gather from their barrows,
those who wash the blue cliffs
and beat them from the front.

25.
Yet neither these move from their place,
nor do they fear destruction;
they mock Rán's pride
and shake off her messengers.

26.
So the armies of both sides fought,
Blindr in the caves of storm;
each one standing where he fell,
firm as founded walls.

27.
Whole skulls batter toward the houses;
chopping-weapons, spears, and lances
break shield-boards apart,
and blades screech on bucklers.

28.
But there where the high battle stands,
hot in the blood's currents,
women are seen in crowds
streaming from the city gates.

29.
Those who were stolen at
the feast-games of Rome
now see their husbands' host
torn apart by the clash.

30.
They rush and cry out upon the field,
fierce in their grief,
fearing neither bloody death-tidings
nor the sword-clang.

31.
Hair streams loose, tears flow,
arms fling wide apart;
through peril and the wounds' river
they press into the ranks.

32.
They wail, they call, they urge peace;
their voices rise above all else;
hands fall limp on the warriors,
Hár's embers are doused.

33.
So spoke their words:
"You men — brothers, fathers!
Quench the sudden fire of Ómi
with the feeling of blood!

34.
"You who fight for our sake —
do you know what you are doing?
The poisoned trail of the sword's edge
is cutting our lives!

35.
"Our husbands lay fathers
on the field, and brothers;
and we carry children
of both bloods.

36.
"Why will you prepare
such bloody breast-wounds for us?
Both peoples have become one —
consider that and understand.

37.
"But if you thirst for blood,
and so it must be,
let the red edge first
cut all of us apart.

38.
"Wade over our corpses
and the children that lie hidden,
then heap upon them
your own dead at the last."

39.
The warriors' hands fall slack;
the uproar halts where it stands;
the sword tilts away from the blow;
hesitation enters the spear.

40.
The women press harder still;
they spread their arms toward the men,
coax the ugly swords away,
and lure them toward a truce.

41.
Both kings come to parley
and make this covenant of peace:
their peoples shall henceforth
be one in both their graces.

42.
They shall be two equal lords
upon a single throne;
the host with all its company is reconciled,
and so they turn toward the city.

43.
Tatius keeps the laws of the land,
comes to the aid of the destitute,
sits at home most mild,
and settles suits and quarrels.

44.
A few attend the cares of rule;
he does not change his customs.
The lord has a daughter;
Tasía is the maiden's name.

45.
In truth the lady was fair,
but fairest yet in manner;
she offered folk such gentle grace
as the sun smiles on the trees.

46.
Romulus — his restless hand
never rested in peace;
he conquered lands beneath him
and lived in the clatter of swords.

47.
The lord likewise has a daughter;
we shall speak of her later;
Hár's ravens wheel away from her
and flutter onward.

48.
Now something must be told
of Numa — the best of boys —
born in his own homeland,
raised by the priest Tullus.

49.
Obedient to his friend he was;
he learned wisdom and virtue;
no young man bore
a fairer face than his.

50.
The ruddy cheek and the clear skin
lay softly in his features;
the good heart shone clear through
the blue crystal of his eyelids.

51.
So is a handsome tree
watered by a living brook
on the green valley floor,
where growth drinks in its strength.

52.
Fair-coloured it bears blossoms,
straight in its smooth raiment,
sheltered from every gust of wind
by the chosen lee of cliffs.

53.
Its roots draw sap
from the brook's currents,
the finest thing there is,
and fairer than all trees.

54.
So eighteen years passed;
the noble blossom of boys
reached his full growth, tall,
fair to see and to test.

55.
The warrior serves in the temple,
busy at the sacrifice;
he was given to that worship,
endowed with needed learning.

56.
He followed his foster-father,
eager for the temperate way,
for he was to take up
that office after him.

57.
It was upon a holy day;
the young man and the priest
stand beside the altar,
reading the sacred prayers.

58.
The house fills with holy cloud;
men of faith are gladdened;
in the vault above are heard
the voices of heaven's dwellers.

59.
These words from the holy voice
the ears can understand:
"Let Numa go forth to Rome;
the people shall have him.

60.
"The will of men cannot
resist the will of Ceres;
she is with her beloved,
and will not part from him."

61.
Each now looks upon the other;
both are astounded;
at last Tullus speaks: "You
must prepare for the journey.

62.
"Though it grieves us, my son,
to think of ending our life together,
we hear heaven's command clearly;
it demands gentle obedience."

63.
Numa's fair brows pale,
his eyes' fire falters;
those gentle tears flow
that grateful love repays.

64.
The priestly boy takes him aside
and leads him from there
down into the deepest vault
that holds the keys.

65.
He sets forth two silver vessels
and says: "Here you may find
the ashes of both your parents,
hidden within these."

66.
"You may remember their dear dust
with tender thought;
from blessed seats on high
they look down upon us."

67.
Numa reddens and is silent;
his thoughts fetter his tongue;
with loving eyes he gazes
upon the vessels of the mortal remains.

68.
Love's arms embrace the warm heart;
the soft and tender hand —
the stones of sight swim
in the sweet streams of tears.

69.
Tullus hands the boy a sword
and speaks with learned tongue:
"Let this follow you on your journey;
your father owned its gleam.

70.
"He never let a hostile hand
sharpen its whetted edge;
with it he defended his life, his land,
and in the end your mother.

71.
"Keep, my friend, the same custom
when you draw the sword in hand;
I pray the gods to grant
that it harm only foes."

72.
"Here also is a shining lock
I have kept a long while;
it is your mother's hair —
take it now, I give it."

73.
Numa treasures the hair and the spear,
mild-tempered, with tears;
then they walk from there,
swollen with love's wounds.

74.
Away Numa had to go;
he is given the best of gear;
his foster-father, bent with age,
follows him out upon the road.

75.
There where they must part
on the green woodland meadow,
the good high-priest
raised this fitting speech:

76.
"Though here our paths divide,
sorrow shall not bow me;
but forth upon your longer road
I send my thoughts with lightened heart.

77.
"For I fear for your youth —
there is need of forethought;
when you come there to Rome,
a thousand snares await.

78.
"At your age you have no friend
that you may trust;
their love is a surface-gleam
which age and experience strip away.

79.
"The lust of the flesh is dangerous
at every opportunity;
she would wind you in her arms —
but beware of her, my dear!

80.
"I count that man a fine champion
who guards himself against her wiles;
a tender heart is easily weakened,
but still it must hold firm!

81.
"If you give her free rein,
though it may seem a small thing,
before temptation's current
you will not stand long;

82.
"You will fall asleep in empty pleasure
and lose the path of virtue —
yet the narrow hour of grace
may come the very next day.

83.
"Against the soul's wretched weeping
bitter remorse awakens,
worthless in waking and in dream,
never lulled to rest.

84.
"Therefore at every step you take
forth upon life's course,
consider what befits you,
and hate pride and wrath.

85.
"Honour those of high estate —
that is the world's custom —
but let the lowly have their right,
and suffer it no less.

86.
"Wisdom and virtue —
choose both as your sisters;
seek what comes first
in their counsel always.

87.
"Fortune dwells in a man's heart;
luck is an outward gift;
virtue alone may give his mind
rest and bring him peace.

88.
"Tenderness is a delicate kind,
frail and quick as startled —
it causes both bliss and sin,
depending on how it is handled.

89.
"Gain and loss — yes, life and death —
the tongue brings forth;
therefore it is worth minding your words,
and training it young.

90.
"Honour those whose heads are grey
and who praise their days;
be especially careful with your words
when you are among women.

91.
"Flee from wicked company,
and avoid those who rage;
love the good, but pity those
who are led astray.

92.
"Hear the cry of the destitute,
ease the pains of the sick;
be a refuge for all the wretched,
according to your strength.

93.
"Tend these few counsels!
Tend the virtues constantly!
So though I part from you,
may holy fortune follow you.

94.
"Here at last is a small letter;
you may read the document —
to King Tatius I commit it;
herewith I entrust you to his care."

95.
May grace be upon your road,
may peace warm your breast.
Tullus, after these words spoken,
parts from his beloved.

96.
Numa feels the bitter grief
that follows a child's leaving;
long he stretches out his arms
toward those who have gone.

97.
Then upon a white horse,
laden with fine gear,
the man sits most silent
and hastens on new roads.

98.
The steed ran like a flying cloud
before a keen wind;
the distances devoured each other
with haste.

99.
All was in flight and motion;
the great mountains trembled;
hills, cities, heights —
all were running.

100.
The land-views rose up
out of the blue sky,
but the foster-land sank
from the eyes of the friend.

Þriðja Ríma — Third Ríma

Mansöngr on the motherland; Numa rides to Rome; his dream of Ceres and Egeria; arrival at the city; King Tasus receives him; the beauty of Tasía; Numa discovers the grove of Egeria.

1.
The motherland where a man is born —
is it not dear to most?
There where the light kindles life
and small creation ripens.

2.
Though a man may wade fortune's sea
to many other lands,
his heart strains back at length
to where his fair youth dwelt.

3.
Would I not remember
the high peaks of the motherland,
and reach my kindred home
on the flight of the mind?

4.
Yes, I remember, ancient foster-mother,
the steep mountains you bear;
in your lap, evening and morning,
a living play of memory stirs.

5.
To think and speak of your beauty —
that is my commonest joy;
in the gentle warmth of pleasant valleys
the flocks creep about your breast.

6.
The obedient flock of the herd
comes home to the folds;
there I sat in the willow-slopes
on summer evenings long ago.

7.
Foster-mother! yes, it suited my mind
to rest in your embrace;
I built there with the delight of youth
my tiny houses.

8.
They were full of another kind of wealth —
nothing more was needed;
all manner of gold and treasure from the shores,
we two brothers carried there.

9.
We picked, where the ground was green,
the bright-coloured grass-flowers;
they came unharmed into the clear shell-bowl,
but they were precious.

10.
A fine share could be divided —
there should be no difference;
each owned his own hillocks,
which then were our islands.

11.
We made our bonds of peace with joy;
we had no lack of livestock —
our sheep, cattle, and horses
grazed the straw upon the islands.

12.
Though freed from need by our treasures,
most things improved besides,
yet from our wealth there sometimes
arose ugly quarrel-matters.

13.
We fought single combats, hard of heart;
we used the strength of our hands,
and with sharpened switch-swords
dealt no small wounds.

14.
Yet I am content in this land,
far from all such trials,
but the sore-tried mind longs still
for the mother's white apron.

15.
The road runs on — let us hurry;
(may you not grow weary of me).
Numa rides on a white horse;
he was waiting for me.

16.
But because Night chased his horse
and he could not escape her,
Sleep quietly offered
lodging to that good guest.

17.
Where a brook streams lightly through a grove,
the weary one falls asleep;
what he dreams — I have the news of it
here to offer you, friend.

18.
A chariot drawn by two dragons
appeared before his dream-sight;
seated in it, like the sun new-washed,
was the goddess Ceres, high in honour.

19.
Above his head where he sleeps
the heaven-chariot halts;
the clouds tremble; the goddess
attends to the man and spoke thus:

20.
"I love you and watch over you,
all hours, dear boy,
that no harm befall the man
while he dwells upon the earth.

21.
Whatever you ask, I will grant;
you may choose at once."
The ring-god thought he could press his prayer,
and spoke thus:

22.
"Give me wisdom, high in the heart,
holy mother!" Then Tullus swears
that he who has it
shall receive every good thing.

23.
Numa vanishes all at once
to the highest halls of the gods,
and hears pure Minerva speak
the learning of wisdom.

24.
Most of all he desires to see her,
if he might,
but the golden clouds hide the godhead —
the eye cannot reach through.

25.
His powers of hearing could not long endure
the holy voices;
now he is back upon the earth,
standing in a forest.

26.
Wrapped in linen, the water-goddess
sits kindly on a seat;
her head seems to bow gently
toward his breast.

27.
She, in delight, weaving
all the images of the mind —
binds the heart of the wondering man
in the presence of the spring-goddess.

28.
Numa asked the goddess her name,
for he was struck with wonder;
surrounded by cliffs, she gives answer:
"Egeria," she says there.

29.
Numa wakes; he is alone
and lay there in the bushes;
ever he yearns — he sees nothing
remaining of the high goddesses.

30.
The fair man ponders the dream;
he leads his day with pious hand;
hastens to his feet, mounts and rides;
comes forward into Roman lands.

31.
All is quiet in the empty land;
small children and men in rows
are cold in their miserable state;
widows mourn their lost condition.

32.
No pasture is set for the clean herds;
the bloom is gone;
on the field-edges weeds spring up;
no one tends the little grains.

33.
Garments of grief cover heads;
the threefold songs of sorrow are heard;
fathers and mothers mourn their sons,
sisters their brothers, and wives their men.

34.
The widow wails, anguish weaves;
she can hardly get her eyes dry;
her only son has been called
by the army of Romulus.

35.
Thus do wars torment the lands:
though splendid garments adorn
warriors covered by shields,
at home dread and need abide.

36.
Numa, silent with sorrow-eyes,
looked upon those empty regions;
but now before his brow-arches
the city of Rome rose up in splendour.

37.
Into the blue sky, so high he sees it —
from the heights, that new city
hurls its high towers like javelins;
they clash against each other in the storm's roar.

38.
The broad wall gleams against him —
the craft was not poor —
when the sun from the heath sows
her gold upon the copper roof.

39.
Ramparts in arching walls form
a great circle about the city;
dug moats swim alongside
to defend against the shameful host.

40.
The highest defensive height
and capital of the place —
most consider it the finest building —
is called the Capitolium.

41.
Here stands the greatest temple,
holy to Father Jupiter;
a structure known for utmost beauty,
it bears the radiance of the flood of sunlight.

42.
The city stands adorned with timbers,
fairest in the world at that time;
Numa turned toward its gates;
warriors guard the splendid portals.

43.
They stood in fine blue byrnies,
decked in the red glow of battle;
Odin's high fire-brands
the folk kindled from their hands.

44.
Worthy Numa enters the city,
looks about on every side,
but whatever the eye beholds
urgently proclaims the assembly of war.

45.
Metals groan loud against hammer;
shields are beaten on the anvils;
none can restrain that clamour;
fires forge the blue iron.

46.
The grey steam of the smithy billows;
coals are kindled on the brands;
clouds are flung from the high wheel;
they lick the naked sky.

47.
Battle-weary warriors practise war;
each is decked in shields;
horses are driven hard in harness;
the war-trumpets blast.

48.
Numa wonders, Numa fears,
Numa ponders what it means,
Numa hastens, Numa steals away,
Numa withdraws.

49.
Through the city the roads lead;
at last he finds the king's house,
and the aged lord Tasus
leads the man inside.

50.
Now the youth bore Sjóla's letter;
the brow-sun shone on the page;
the king rose from his high seat
and folded the man in his arms.

51.
He speaks thus: "A blessed day
dawns especially for me, old man,
that I may clasp you, fair kinsman,
in my arms here.

52.
Pompíll's own eyes I recognise,
and I find his look in you;
my heart says that you
do not deny me your love.

53.
Light it is for pale old age to bear
with dear children beside it;
when the weak mind is troubled,
the comfort of both nourishes."

54.
"I also have a fine daughter;
she cultivates the good virtues well;
so I may show her to you —
servants, call the lady here."

55.
The heroes see, in chosen garments,
the maiden approaches, moving neatly;
like a ray of light, wrapped in radiance,
she glided smoothly.

56.
Though many would find themselves fairer,
the rosy lady bore her virtues;
she drew love and delight toward her;
she was exceedingly good and gracious.

57.
Numa bows before the lady;
the father bids the maiden sit:
"This is your brother," he says,
"the gentle one visits us."

58.
"He is Pompíll's fair heir —
often, as I have told you —
he bears the same splendid look;
he will comfort my old age."

59.
"Dwell now with us, fair-hearted one;
thus your fortune may improve;
I fear no old age then
with you, my children, beside me."

60.
"Perhaps dearer bonds may bind us both,
may tie us better together here;
a brighter crown of power to rule —
I wish you fame and glory."

61.
The wise lady understood
her good father's full meaning then;
the rosy rose colours her cheeks
as if pure blood ran in snow.

62.
She looked at the bright-browed youth —
she had not seen a fairer man;
therefore now in secret
sweet inclinations of love stirred.

63.
The fair one gives her answer,
the staff of the sun's breadth —
she promises to obey in gentle faithfulness
whatever the king commands.

64.
The noble bows, without cold words:
"I wish to see no pretence;
we need not speak of obedience —
let us remember friendship's promises.

65.
Long have I ruled kingdoms,
and experience bears this best witness:
no one has feared me — but the love
of hearts I have won for myself.

66.
I dwell still by the same custom;
each has chosen his own measure;
with all men I share peace;
but mighty Romulus

67.
drives the terror-whip onward,
thrusting our subjects into war;
they bow to his heavy command
until at last they give their lives.

68.
He is out, making war
against King Antemnas;
when he returns from there,
we must meet him at our swiftest.

69.
That he will win the victory, none doubts —
never was a more famous champion;
no one on the battlefield is readied
under Sigmund's sword to match him.

70.
When in the grim tumult of spears
that destroyer of nations goes to slaughter,
he is alone in all the army —
none can withstand him.

71.
Tall of stature and hugely thick,
he shakes the terror from his brows;
dark of hair and warlike,
he has strength beyond wonder.

72.
His fame carries tales of mighty deeds
beneath the wind's tent;
for his wise head and strong hand
never need rest."

73.
"He has a daughter: Hersilia
is that prince's dear lady called;
of her much may quickly be told —
no fairer maiden is formed.

74.
Kings from far and wide seek
the love of the ring-goddess,
but the proud bride casts her eye
and turns her back on all of them.

75.
She drives the suitors' prayers away;
she wraps herself in grey shields;
a helmet covers the maiden's head;
her hand wields a small sword.

76.
The lady rides with her father
forward into battle on a powerful steed;
the storm of weapons gladdens her heart;
she cuts down many a troop.

77.
When her hands are not swinging swords,
she is all the more to be watched,
for the tender fires of love she kindles
in all who see the bride.

78.
Whoever looks upon that bright flower
is simply struck from himself —
yet, though none can refrain from crying love,
she scorns all men."

79.
"I tell you this tale truly
of the rich ruler and his bride;
gladly I recall the virtues,
and would be pleased if you knew them.

80.
You may decide freely —
choose now from the means at hand:
stay here in peace with us,
or dwell in his tents."

81.
The hero says he will stay home
and not part from the king;
gladly follow and obey him,
so long as comfort can be had.

82.
Tasía hears what he says;
the gentle hope springs in her heart;
the maiden assents and is silent —
it was according to her will.

83.
Numa stays home some days,
at peace and shunning noise;
but one time he wanders out through the meadows,
pondering his dream.

84.
Now the spear-tree hears
where about the city feet wander,
that a forest near a certain river
was called the grove of Egeria.

85.
The spring-goddess lives in his memory —
the one he saw in his dream;
into the forest he bent his path,
best of men, and saw the grove.

86.
A breeze played at the rustling of the leaves;
joy could quicken there;
the forest, in its broad bends,
shelters delightful nature.

87.
There the holy silence reigns
and wakes the sweet thoughts of man;
ancient oaks wave, age-bowing,
under the noble wreath of their branches.

88.
There, shining and pleasant,
the host of leaves steps into a dance;
the wind draws its breath across the meadows;
the cradle of the evening is there.

89.
Whatever you think, let it please you,
you little feather-balls!
You hop, sit, fly about crazily —
never still, like snakes.

90.
You chant your songs, stretch your notes,
and speak of most things there;
but many do not understand you
except the best of the knowing.

91.
They steal about the spacious grove,
weighing the sound of voices.
They sang of Numa's vision and dreams
as well as they could set them in song.

92.
Here the keen ears linger;
he will stay in this place.
But whether they choose aright and know the truth —
we shall speak of that later.

Fjórða Ríma — Fourth Ríma

Mansöngr on two kinds of love; Numa finds the sleeping shield-maiden in the grove; she wakes in fury — it is Hersilia, daughter of Romulus; Numa falls in love; Romulus returns victorious; the sacrifice to Jupiter; a new war is announced.

1.
Does not every man's heart know,
in the hollows of flesh and soul,
the bright flame of woman's love?
Brother, would you deny it?

2.
Some may care little for this,
but two kinds of love are born
in the world — unlike in all their ways,
and they have always been so.

3.
One plunges a man into misery;
the other turns toward happiness.
I could distinguish between them —
I am acquainted with both.

4.
One, which commonly strikes,
and is perhaps the hottest,
drew its nourishment
from our blood and from our senses.

5.
It does not reach the heart's recesses,
though fools may think so —
no, it pulses through all our veins
and finds no resting place.

6.
Our souls it does not possess;
it has no thought of higher things;
it smothers every lofty contemplation
and gives the flesh comfort and pleasure.

7.
Its one wish is to enjoy
and sate its exhausted desire;
little does it promise of blessings —
but the other is of another kind.

8.
On the soul's own union it feeds,
and dwells in the heart's recesses;
it stirs gently in measure —
it is not lust, but virtue.

9.
Its warmth does not weaken;
to friends it is faithful and true;
on the road toward perfection
it draws all desires.

10.
Its joy, pure and clear,
warms, but never burns;
though it knows the sting of its wounds,
it rubs sweet salve into them.

11.
Honour, wealth, luck, or favour
never broke its chair,
and should it find itself amid
the blizzard of need, it wraps itself in piety's cloak.

12.
Now I have described them both;
more and longer could be written,
if men wished to hear it —
but I will stop. It is time.

13.
Numa stayed long in the grove,
wandering here and there.
He sees a maiden — she lay sleeping,
like a shield-maiden in her dress.

14.
Her bright head she has laid
lightly on a shield; by her cheeks
the maiden's helmet, as she sleeps gently,
lay covered with a wave of stars.

15.
Her bright hair covers the byrnie;
it flowed down in golden waves.
Everything that wakes the heart's wonder —
the bride's adornment filled his eyes.

16.
She holds a spear beneath her hand;
she lay in the forest's down.
The light of Þundr sent its gleam
from the maiden's meadow of the spring.

17.
So in a dreaming trance there lies
the Día-gleam, the one Freyja bears.
Thither Loki thinks to steal,
and lies hidden low in the grass.

18.
He flutters about the maiden's breast and belly;
the Brísinga necklace hangs from her throat;
the light stirrings of the blood
lay lilies small about her breasts.

19.
Sleep dwells on her young eyes —
they are bright, though the lashes hide them;
a red thread on her cheek-mounds
weaves and winds about her.

20.
Tangled in tender roses,
the red reins of blue veins;
colours flicker lightly on her lips,
and small dream-smiles form.

21.
Her breath, warm as fine fragrance,
lends freely its sense;
life dwells in her white breast,
swelling and drawing in.

22.
Her bright skin, hand and foot,
is gently wrapped about;
around the smooth thighs and joints,
small rings mark themselves.

23.
The breath rests beneath the navel,
and so white is the skin's surface,
as if the laughing sun
spat silver upon the snowdrifts.

24.
Loki's brow shone, wondering;
his playful mind halted.
He became a fly or a spirit
and reluctantly hid himself.

25.
More lovely than all maidens —
I find no verse to say it —
like Freyja, yet far more beautiful,
the shield-maiden sleeps in the grove.

26.
Now it occurs to Numa
(and it was likely enough)
that he saw Minerva there,
adorned in her shields, exalted.

27.
He falls upon both his knees;
the body's strength fails;
as best he could, from the lore of prayer,
his tongue made offering with reverence.

28.
Now the maiden wakes from sleep,
appears quick and resolute;
she flashed the fire of her brows at the man
and drew her feet beneath her.

29.
All at once: the helmet covers
her head, her hand seizes the blade.
He understands her speech,
kneeling, in this fashion:

30.
"Who are you, foolish wretch,
who dare to hide here?
Such boldness will not save you —
I mean to cut you down and finish you.

31.
Were it not a shame for a lady
to murder an unarmed boy,
the sword should be washed in blood
and teach the trespasser his lesson."

32.
Numa says: "Bright goddess!
When my eye saw your godhead,
I was struck with the nearest terror
through my inmost sinews.

33.
I fell down — my feet
could not carry my body.
Now I beg your forgiveness gladly;
I can hasten my steps from here."

34.
"Your high presence sickened my heart."
"I turn from you and worship you."
The maiden then softened her speech,
and smiled a little:

35.
"Render honour to a heavenly goddess —
you need not fear me, laden with dread.
Know: my name is Hersilia;
I am the fortunate daughter of Romulus."

36.
Now she strikes her sword on the shield;
a company of warriors arrives;
with a handsomely decked horse on the field
the pure lady mounts.

37.
As if flung from the halls of the peaks,
she whips the steed and it ran;
Numa stands nearly blind;
keen imagination fetters him.

38.
The thoughts of war torment him —
he can hardly endure it;
the blood pulses burning hot
down through the small veins.

39.
The proud hero begins to run,
hastens and enters Rome,
follows the track of the good horse
as the flower of women rides.

40.
He turns toward Tasus's hall;
his breath trembles, his face is pale;
and there stands the sea's sun,
Sjöfn shining, beside the king.

41.
She announces to the king
the swift return of Romulus,
for he has won the victory,
the hero who carved through shields.

42.
She declares that all is being readied:
the war-god dons his garments;
when the crowned one arrives in glory,
the lord enters the Capitolium.

43.
Numa sees her; he recognises her.
The princess asks who the man is.
The king does not conceal it from her,
calms his mind, and gives his answer:

44.
"The good youth" — he presents him thus —
"I have chosen as my son;
he is of our own royal blood
and shall inherit my seat here."

45.
Numa stands deathly pale;
scarcely could he give attention.
But now the silk-land of jewels
sent the rods of her sight toward him.

46.
The poor pale one grows warmer;
the ring-Auðr turned toward his brow;
a colour red as fire
blazed and seethed about his cheeks.

47.
The king saw his colour change
but does not understand the cause,
for grey old age no longer sees
the heat of love in any way.

48.
"Raised at home" — the king declares —
"this excellent man of honour;
he is still shy, as you see;
the awkwardness will pass."

49.
The more perceptive sun of treasure
saw what troubled the young man;
she pretended to accept the lord's answer,
the cunning ring-goddess of the mind.

50.
She calmed her thoughts as was her custom,
but gazed upon the man of beauty;
as if she cared for nothing else —
yet he fastened love upon himself.

51.
Now the sweet one prepares to leave quickly;
her breast conceals the man's beauty.
But in that moment the bride's fine eyes
meet the gems of his brows.

52.
One glance — it works wonders —
sweeps through the innermost sinew.
It was hot — O, it was fire!
From it life and power flew.

53.
It wakes the hope of Numa's heart;
the fairest joy it stirs.
And the bright maiden takes with her
his image, wrapped in love's cloth.

54.
The lady is gone; the best of men
can only whisper his prayers in secret.
He is no longer the same;
sleeping and waking, the bride is near.

55.
Though fame should fail in the frenzy of love —
on the lady he feeds his soul and mind,
forgets Tasus and the priest Tullus,
and loses his gentle virtues besides.

56.
Dead are his counsels; numb his thought;
the body's strength taken crosswise;
eager lust would build its home in his breast
and drives all else away.

57.
The pure thoughts of the heart flee;
there is no rest in the pain;
one thought alone — Hersilia —
is his in secret, day and night.

58.
O, dear beloved of the prince,
who lose everything you had here —
shall no escape, no refuge,
serve you any longer?

59.
Where now are your foster-father's teachings,
firm as you held them in your mind?
And the promises of the Heavenly Ones,
in which you were most lovingly faithful?

60.
And why would the gracious Lady Ceres
not hasten, song-powerful,
to cool you from the fever of desire
and thrust off your frailty now?

61.
Shall the fire of a single lust
overwhelm you and do such harm?
Alas — it is the cause of terrible ruin,
and pays you the worst fate!

62.
You wish to die in the fire of desire,
fallen — the shelters are hidden;
and yet you do not see the misfortune
that hurls the sickness of death into you.

63.
But let us turn to this: the battle-outlaw,
famous far across lands and sea,
comes home from war, eager for power —
Romulus returns.

64.
A hardy host follows him,
numbered in companies, bearing spears;
like waves they lay about the roads,
burning over ridges and valleys.

65.
The bright-blue steels ring merrily;
gilded rings gleam upon them;
the horns sing the victory-speech,
high-voiced, of their leader.

66.
Faithful as always, Tasus goes to meet the king,
and the thoughtful people with him;
fires burn upon the altars:
the gods receive their offerings.

67.
There one may recognise bold Romulus —
the thanes walk through the district;
his head and all his shoulders
the keen king bore above the other men.

68.
In a chariot he rode across the fields of earth,
the great ruler who wields the spear;
four horses draw it —
white they were in colour.

69.
His body is wrapped in the war-garment;
Herjan's sun bears its radiance.
The lord arrives at the Capitolium,
crowned with glory and victory.

70.
From the chariot he steps to the ground;
the earth yielded beneath his tread.
The crown of the conquered
he places at the altar of Jove.

71.
He hung it in the hall and spread
his hands gladly before him,
then spoke and entreated thus:
"O mighty Jupiter!

72.
Accept the first offering I make you;
you shall see more works of art.
So shall I swing the whetted sword,
victory-thirsty, from now on.

73.
Increase our power and our valour;
sell me the lands of the world;
I give you thanks and trust you —
this cloak is a king's."

74.
"Be not forgetful of your goodness;
grant that battles never cease
until my line and the Romans
conquer all the world."

75.
The greatest beast is led to the slaughter —
in the heap of the slain the grey one trembles;
twenty priests hold, terrified,
the bull of horns upon the field.

76.
Grown huge with muscle, knowing its strength,
clad in the mantle of sinew,
the bull he dragged with one hand
to the altar and felled it there.

77.
He cuts the throat of the felled bull;
the wounds stream with Romulus's blows;
the host of clerks kindle the offering-fires
and burn it there before him.

78.
When the offering-fires blaze,
the lord hurries from the hall;
he calls in a piercing voice
his thousands of warriors:

79.
"One land yet we shall win, friends" —
thus he rouses his men —
"Our countless enemies over there
hold the riches of the world.

80.
Many fair lands in Italy remain
unconquered still;
we buckle on our swords anew —
may the god bless our hand.

81.
But let the folk find gentle rest
before men arm for battle;
embrace your children and women fair;
you have the whole day.

82.
On the field of Mars at morning,
we shall all meet in the war-garment;
the sharp blasts of horns shall sound
as the sun rises from the sea.

83.
Against a people called the Marsi
we must fight again;
there are villains to deal with there —
they are fearfully hardy men.

84.
At home we may never rest on our seats;
we shall know the weather of battle soon,
until we have conquered all the world
and alone hold power.

85.
Therefore upon the appointed field
let the mighty host come to test the strife;
there, in full harness, the first to fall —
your captain will give protection.

86.
Let the undaunted people don their byrnies
when the dawn shows its face!
Let us make all the world know
that we never need rest."

Fimta Ríma — Fifth Ríma

Mansöngr on tyranny and the worthlessness of riches; Numa asks to go to war; Tatius arms him; Tasía's farewell; the march; Romulus and the Marsian envoys; Numa shows mercy to captives; the divine shield falls from heaven.

1.
Hard it is for him who holds the power
to rule well upon the throne of honour;
great is the worth of high authority
if manly virtue does not fail.

2.
Many kings, mighty in deeds,
would bend all matters to their will;
but if their counsel is ill-minded,
under them one must live in misery.

3.
He who sees with his own eyes
nothing but the flatterers of the court
cannot guard his subjects' fates
from harm.

4.
Such a rabble of rulers we have seen —
hard it is to mind the ways of governance;
the people are oppressed, and villains
crowd into the seats of power.

5.
To sate their monstrous desires,
most things can be had:
breast-crosses, titles, and tokens —
all may be bought with the riches of the realm.

6.
If one plots another's ruin,
he wields poisoned shields of law
and buys many a useful servant;
all things may be had with the riches of the realm.

7.
All must be won by evening,
and in locked council-halls;
it is likely the game is won
if the cunning one deals in the riches of the realm.

8.
One thing, though, I think is lacking
when first we speak of this matter:
true happiness and the heart's peace —
these cannot be had with the riches of the realm.

9.
Power, like the blossoms of spring,
withers when autumn comes;
then to a higher judgement
all matters must be brought.

10.
Blessed are we in our mild estate —
let us scorn the world's tyrants!
We commend our fortune
to the power of the Father of the Danes!

11.
The lord, when judgement had been read,
let them ride home to their halls;
great was Rome's fame —
Romulus had led the way.

12.
Numa could barely endure it —
love's wounds kept him waking —
at King Tatius's right hand
he walks, brooding and bowed.

13.
It runs through his thoughts then:
the heavy shield-trolls spur him on —
to follow his lady onto the field of the slain
and become the most famous hero of all.

14.
To defend the fair life of his bride
and be the shield upon her breast;
to wade with the war-knife
through hot waves of blood.

15.
This is what his mind esteems most:
therefore he is eager for the work of battle —
he might win the maiden's love,
perhaps at last, by the strong hand.

16.
Like a child in the folds of a blanket
who tugs shyly at its mother,
longing for the power of her embrace
but not daring to take it;

17.
So Numa at the prince's side
stumbles over the bends in the road,
dares not speak of it —
the turmoil in his mind.

18.
At last the lord begins:
"Best friend! You must tell me
what torments your soul;
I will try to mend it."

19.
Numa eased his breath a little
and managed these words:
"I long, with sword in hand,
to march with the army into battle.

20.
"My father won and warded lands,
great in deeds upon the fields of war;
you too have wielded the battle-rod,
brave, proven in former days.

21.
"As you did at the spear-shore,
if fortune would have it so,
I long to raise my shield
and try my strength against the foe."

22.
The old man smiled at the youth;
embers in the hero's breast kindle:
"You shall go, my son;
I judge your desire a worthy one.

23.
"War-garments you shall have;
with you goes an old man of the times —
me, though grey age wears me —
to teach you the storms of spears.

24.
"Still I think these hoary hairs
can bear a heavy helm,
and still this arm can wield
the sword to some purpose.

25.
"It is a joy, in the clamour of battle,
to thrust grey iron into shields;
it gladdens me that the royal blood
of the Sabines does not cool."

26.
The lord embraces the bold youth,
who is somewhat heartened;
he keeps silent about his love-wound —
it will not be healed this time.

27.
Into the armoury next
both kinsmen go;
Numa receives the weapons
and the well-tried heirlooms of the line.

28.
A gilded helm and a white shield
the hero receives — hardly to be broken —
and a silver byrnie, double-woven,
linked together in rings.

29.
The byrnie slides over his body;
the bright helm presses his brow;
it is as though all his veins
burn with fire.

30.
When his hand grips the sword —
the hilts painted with Rán's suns —
his eyes, keen and serpent-sharp,
flash lightning along the blade.

31.
Odin's keen fire-ski
his hand shakes involuntarily,
to and fro; but the hot heart
sets the hero's breast to boiling.

32.
So Thor felt his fury rise,
though dressed in a bride's garments,
when Mjölnir came to his hands —
his blood ran hot with power in his veins.

33.
Tatius goes home to the hall,
he and his kinsman, both magnificent;
his old war-garments, every one,
he puts on there, the ancient things.

34.
His precious daughter saw
the warriors dressed in shield and sword;
her brows drew together —
she had not expected this journey.

35.
The silver-belted lady then
grew heavy in her hidden heart;
the hero turned away from her,
half-unwilling, his eyes like stones.

36.
Around her father's neck she fell,
the woman, and said with grievous sorrow:
"Will you now, in the work of steel,
arm yourself in your burial-years?

37.
"Who shall defend the land and people,
show mercy to the poor, comfort the suffering,
if you march out to war —
you, whom all call first to counsel?"

38.
The old king wept and laughed,
kissed his good daughter tenderly;
the helm over his grey hair, though,
he placed — terribly heavy.

39.
Numa through the hall-door
leapt, and the king steps after;
the young man cannot hold still,
but age hobbles the old man's feet.

40.
Numa across every district
rages like a whirlwind;
he is out alone upon the field
before the sun leaves her bed.

41.
She rose so lightly from the sea
and poured embers on the bright ridges;
the fair-decked companies
now throng swiftly onto the plain.

42.
In a chariot the warriors ride —
Romulus, covered in splendid robes;
at his side lay, long,
a naked brand, loose from its sheath.

43.
Hersilia bore the blossom,
dressed in golden-folded garments;
among the hosts she appeared
like the sun floating on clouds' waves.

44.
The woman sits upon the wagon,
clad in flickering flame;
no one can tell the colours apart
where the jewels glow.

45.
Tatius, powerful, speaks with
Romulus then, and leads Numa forward:
"The gods' host is graced with valour
where the battle-field foams.

46.
"I go with my kinsman —
the blades of the destroyer sharpen;
here I show you the youth —
this slayer of edges will become a man!

47.
"The fair champion is king-born;
my crown he shall bear;
he wishes to adorn your army
and first be schooled at your side."

48.
Thus speaks Romulus:
"Well met, the precious youth!
He is courteous in his bearing —
let him command the Sabine host.

49.
"But to shield you in your old age,
you should stay behind from the sword-storms;
if battle breaks out at my side,
much in the realm may happen."

50.
When these counsels stand,
and more need not be spoken of remedy,
tear-shedding, the flax-goddess
comes toward them — Tasía.

51.
Across the field there followed her,
the lady who loved good counsel,
widows both and elders,
words of anguish in their mouths.

52.
Around Tatius the speech quickens —
women and small children weep:
"You, who bear the heavy steel —
it is no use to try further.

53.
"You, who are father to us all,
you must not abandon your own;
for us, it is plain to see,
all is then wound in need and torment."

54.
Kneeling, the people cry:
"Stay with us, dear father!"
The lord stood silent then,
as though struck to stone.

55.
Tasía presses her tears,
wraps her bright arms about him;
the lord must soften then —
the warrior's heart melts to mercy.

56.
She bids Numa farewell with a kiss,
asks the champion to go safely;
then she takes the bear's-bed
home to the fortress with her company.

57.
Romulus rings out his clear voice,
riding before the host;
into three companies
he gathers all the thousands.

58.
First shall the Romans ride —
the king himself commands them;
they obey no other pair —
Odin's byrnie-warriors, precious.

59.
The Sabine host marches
next onto the field of battle;
that fearless company is led
by Hersilia and Numa both.

60.
A great host fills the lord's army —
that troop which weaves the iron —
the people of Latium, tributary,
from lands he has conquered.

61.
Metsius commands those men,
the greatest champion of the Sabines;
before, upon the field he followed
Numa's father to the sword-assembly.

62.
Numa rode a white horse;
the hero bore himself well in the saddle;
the steed, swift, knew the course —
quicker it was than a lion on foot.

63.
Light, as if loose snow flew,
it played, arching over the saddlebow;
its trappings are all red,
laden with Uðr's flickering flame.

64.
Beside Hersilia's wagon
the stiff stallion strode on its legs;
Numa, therefore, on this side,
could cast glances at her brows.

65.
The horns blow for departure;
they dare begin the perilous journey;
the bright-maned horses run the roads,
their iron hooves spurring streets and paths.

66.
Like a dark fog
that draws itself out of the vast sea,
bringing murk upon the land,
it moves with terrible fury;

67.
Swollen with malice it is:
fire, snow, and crushing hail
it scatters down as it advances;
the mountains it whirls in blue torrents.

68.
The black gusts of wind then
blind the sun's bright eye,
terrify and torment most creatures,
shake the land, the trees, and the sky.

69.
Like that fog is the army
wherever it sweeps over the earth;
whatever lives flees swiftly before it —
such are the terrors it brings.

70.
Where the host strides through the land
in the frenzy of the maddened lion,
the trampled crops of the fields
give food no more.

71.
Forests break, the earth is scarred,
most sheltering trees are ruined;
the death-weapons lord it over the gentle flock;
houses collapse and fall.

72.
The land's people must endure it,
leaving their work and their possessions,
for they flee the hateful host
and wish only to save their lives.

73.
For the innocent, then,
neither law nor duty gives protection;
whoever was chosen — and few cared —
the dead-hearted men put to death.

74.
So goes such a campaign
where the hosts of war swarm;
it is worthy of no honour —
the devastation of our homes.

75.
The roads pass under the light-footed one;
the lord of Rome arrives
west of Marsian land
and halts by a certain river.

76.
The people pitch their tents,
build a thick-walled hall with walls;
the fire of the war-goddess glows
on gilded roofbeams of the feast-hall.

77.
At the river-crossing, the hosts see
three men making their way by boat,
each bearing a branch of Ör
in his left hand.

78.
A wooden bowl in the right hand
they carry, and they find Romulus,
fall to their knees, and wake the wand —
the words of friendship from their lands.

79.
"The Marsians offer you thus,
lord of Rome, their gentle greeting;
all the good things that we own
you shall have — honour and dignity.

80.
"If men honour words of friendship
with us, whom we hold dear,
and to their hands we bring this bowl,
full of the best we can offer.

81.
"But if you intend us harm —
we shall not lose our courage —
we have one arrow
to show our enemies.

82.
"Ours is a small and wretched holding,
wrapped in the narrow shelter of the mountains;
choose now, Lord:
the wooden bowl or this arrow."

83.
The lord answered in a flash:
"The land and its dwellings I shall win;
give me the arrow and be gone —
home, back to your cattle."

84.
The envoy answers:
"Let the gods look upon us both!
I say that he provokes harm
who goads innocent people to war.

85.
"We shall endure and defend
our poor homestead as best we can,
but you, who brandish the most arrogance —
fear the wrath of your gods."

86.
Romulus seizes his anger then;
his speech thunders thus:
"Who was the insolent man who thought
to frighten me? The world shall never see it."

87.
Then the envoys go their way,
their road upon the serpent of the planks.
Romulus's rage was still unspent;
he speaks thus:

88.
"Tomorrow, when the sun is seen
and my strong arm shakes the sword,
the host shall cross the river
and wake battle on the other side.

89.
"Today, if you need it,
being in want of fresh food,
begin the raid on the farmers' herds
and slaughter their livestock."

90.
From there the cruel army sweeps;
they reckon now to win much;
the people bound, and cattle and cows,
they drove to their tents.

91.
They divided the plunder among the hosts,
as they saw fit;
they abused the women, murdered the men,
and slaughtered cattle and sheep for meat.

92.
Numa then went to the king
and begged mercy for these people;
he received a third of the captives
and led them out into the forest.

93.
"Go," he says, "safely home;
herewith let us be reconciled."
Unweighed gold he gave them,
so they could replace their goods.

94.
Then begins a prayer —
the best branch of the moon-goddess of Rín:
"Let, O Ceres, innocent blood
never stain my hands."

95.
He prays the goddess to look upon him,
and with many more words he speaks;
then down from the sky there falls
a shield, blazing in gold.

96.
Upon it stand these words —
he reads them in gilded runes:
"Never shall murder harm a man
while he bears the shield of the gods."

97.
Numa rejoices; the gleaming shield
he knows is given to him;
then he lets his horse carry him home
at a gallop to the tents.

Sjötta Ríma — Sixth Ríma

The Marsians choose a champion. Leó the lion-clad tears the oak from the earth, leads a night raid on Rome, and wrestles Romulus to the ground.

1.
Blessed are those free from need
who dwell in nature's keeping,
where no grieving cloud disturbs
the light of the sun of joy.

2.
Our fathers chose for themselves
a home in the green shelter of valleys;
each one tended his flock
and cared for his fair homestead.

3.
The ancient, fertile farmland
fed the old ones well;
then in pure and spotless clothing
the flock dressed them from its fleece.

4.
Much that was excellent upon the earth
they watched grow through honest work;
a noble drink they could draw
from the blue veins of their mother.

5.
They were sturdy and mild,
gifted with ample wisdom,
faithful to friends and careful
in works and customs both.

6.
They lived quietly there a long time —
longest, so the ages remember —
free from the terror of bondage,
loving God and nature.

7.
If arrogant tyrants rose against them,
the farmers drew their swords —
stout men, able and ready
for their own defence.

8.
But alas, too often and too long,
from nature's freeborn sons,
peace was stolen and concord driven out
by warband lords and tyrants.

9.
Of this we have more examples
from the histories of the world than we would wish;
they are evil, and what is worse,
they have not yet parted from us.

10.
When shall good fortune lift up
the harried and the suffering?
When shall blessed nature
in some measure have her say?

11.
Let us remember the men of the Marsian land
who expect war at their door:
by the envoy's story warned,
they must prepare their defence.

12.
This people was kingless,
serving themselves and nature;
no man bore authority over his brother
who could issue commands.

13.
Therefore, at the news of war,
the men went to choose a captain;
many of the country's folk
were craftsmen and able fighters.

14.
The thanes announce it openly:
three mighty champions shall be chosen;
whichever has the greatest strength
shall command the host.

15.
One of these was called Alor;
he trusted greatly in his power.
The second champion, Líger,
yielded little to his own prowess.

16.
Hektor was the third;
these three walk out to the forest,
fasten a ring high upon
an oak's crown with a long rope.

17.
The rope falls earthward,
dreadfully heavy, of grey iron;
now they shall test who has the most strength
to bend the lofty crown.

18.
Hektor gets the rope in hand,
throws himself on it with all he has;
the oak shakes a slender branch —
he can do no better.

19.
Líger comes and tries his turn,
thick-limbed and shoulder-strong;
he seizes the handgrip,
thinks he will not be beaten.

20.
The oak bends downward then —
the hero spared none of his strength —
but where he could do no more,
the man released the hard rope.

21.
Alor comes out onto the field,
hugely tall and mightily thick;
all eyes gaze toward him,
certain he will win.

22.
He stands upon a fixed stone,
takes the rope over his back,
braces hard with sturdy legs,
and shakes the high treetop.

23.
He pulls the rope tight;
the great fork draws into a bow,
but the champion is exhausted
from tugging at the oak's trunk.

24.
The oak reclaims its native strength —
up into the air it snatches the man;
he hangs high in the rope
but swings quickly down to earth.

25.
The host begins to shout:
"He shall command our army;
no one has greater strength —
he will lay our enemies low."

26.
When the loud cheers ring,
the throng stirring with gladness,
there strides onto the field
a warlike and powerful man.

27.
He is wondrous tall and thick;
outermost he wears a lion's hide;
manly, he carries a club
in the strength-seat of the hawk's land.

28.
The lion's claws are hooked
in a cross upon the hero's breast;
he walks up to the rope
and throws a jest to the crowd:

29.
"Since the wondrous high oak
has not yet suffered death,
I may as well play along
and try to bend her."

30.
So saying — the game is ended;
the champion seizes the long rope,
shakes, bends, jolts the oak,
and rips her up by the trunk.

31.
This amazes the whole people;
even Alor himself is startled.
Within a moment the cry is heard:
"He shall command our glorious host.

32.
"He defends us against every harm,
this man of might at the war-gathering;
him alone we obey —
he is the Marsians' war-captain."

33.
The hero says: "My one wish
is to follow a brave company,
but I have no desire to marshal an army
across the red meadow of the war-goddess.

34.
"Strength is good, but wisdom is best;
once we tread the path of battle,
I know the people will choose wisest —
a wise man and one grown old."

35.
Old Saffanor answers —
he was the Marsians' counsellor:
"You shall go as our captain,
but I will answer on your behalf.

36.
"Let the chieftain meet the host —
speak your name and hide nothing."
The other lets the answer come:
"Leó — that is what you may call me.

37.
"I was born in this land;
most of my days I live in the forest,
poorly, as you see,
and gather little by the plough's furrow.

38.
"But since the company wishes in haste
to honour me as captain in war,
I will go this very night
to spoil the Roman king's comfort.

39.
"I shall have a hundred and eight
of your stoutest sons,
and tonight with fire and stealth
make ruin in the army's camps.

40.
"The Romans will not expect it
while the peace still holds;
now we must move at once —
let iron and mail arm the men."

41.
Saffanor agrees to this;
then the men prepare to march,
all who have strength and daring within them,
and press hard toward the river.

42.
Leó conceals his band in silence,
with rare cunning,
until midnight is measured out,
and they cross the water.

43.
The eager captain leads the way,
swinging the mighty club at his shoulders;
the fire-servant finds a house
where the army boils its feasts.

44.
He takes a smouldering brand,
shrouds the hall in flame,
wakes the men to the lust of battle
from their unfriendly dreams of night.

45.
The storm of war grows harsh;
blood sinks from veins toward Hel;
the guardsmen must fall
in the red flood of the slaughter-path.

46.
Fires crack upon the tents,
the ridge-beam crumbles down;
with a groan of grief, fierce then,
battle bids all to waking.

47.
There comes from Niflheim's abyss
the blue monster Hel below;
the shape-shifting horror
goes to seize and count her spoil.

48.
The accursed hag, black to see,
wins death for the host in waves;
from her fingers she hurls
poison-arrows into men's hearts.

49.
She waded through streams of blood,
crept forward on four claws,
sucked and drank the blood of the dead,
deeply, from need's bitter cups.

50.
The worst troll grew fat thereby
at that spring that leaks from veins;
the monster's bulk, terrible to behold,
covers the whole field.

51.
A second monster, coal-black Night,
drags dark garments over the slain;
she goes with bane and blinds the host
in dreadful floods of blood.

52.
Men died there in waves
on the death-roads, in the maw of blood;
the dark sisters laughed
at the vile ringing of iron.

53.
But — hard-hearted,
marvellously nimble with the blade —
Romulus rises from his bench,
and his voice thunders through the host.

54.
The lord draws to the battle-field,
swings the ancestral sword in fury;
terrible falls were dealt thereby
to fair warriors of the golden clasp.

55.
He terrifies the hearts of all —
the hollows bleed beneath the rafters;
the king stirs up the ocean of the veins,
kindles fire wherever men are waking.

56.
Wherever he goes, the host falls;
few dare make a stand.
Leó sees who he is —
a madman — and meets him with the club.

57.
There the sturdy prince burst forward
with a heavy roar;
the stroke was a shield-leaf's weight,
and the war-god's limb shattered to pieces.

58.
The great brand strikes near the breast;
the girdle of power begins to buckle,
but there the lion's claws were locked
where the edge could not bite.

59.
Leó gathers his fury;
against the king he charges forward,
swinging the bloody war-beast,
wielding the long defence of Hákon.

60.
The wild lord of the Roman land
swings the bright Brand fiercely;
he strikes the club from Leó's hand
and it flies a long way.

61.
The prince presses toward his foe
and chose to do him harm;
the other does not step an inch
though bare before the naked blade.

62.
The fierce one fastened a wrestler's hold,
the chieftains of the war-river;
they close and grapple then,
and the ground trembles and shakes.

63.
Neither dark-elf can throw the other;
now valour must be tested to the last,
so from sheer main-force then
the flesh of both is crushed in the grip.

64.
The war-goddess's garment is shaken,
her clothing torn to pieces,
ripped and clawed in every place —
the ankles scrape the naked ground.

65.
Marvellous is the fury of men;
fire burns from the rims of the eyes,
foam flecks between the teeth,
sweat streams down burning cheeks.

66.
Leó, stiff and tireless,
with terrible battle-rage,
tears Romulus's mail apart
so the lord drops to both his knees.

67.
He snatches a stone — no small one —
in his hands then,
sends it against the prince's shoulders,
and so — fallen at the end — he lay.

68.
The black blood boiled from his wits,
the prince's heart seized with faintness;
after so hard a fall,
the king lies nearly dead.

69.
The people count the lord for dead;
they carry him to his tent,
wash the red blood from his body,
and see the prince still clings to life.

70.
Leó remembers himself again;
the hero's strength does not slacken;
in the battle-craft's workshop
he finds his club among the slain.

71.
He grips the shaft in both hands,
trusts it best in the venture;
courage and strength burn in his breast,
the brow's sparks begin to blaze.

72.
Just so Thór in the old days
seized his hammer at Thrym's table
and sent Mjölnir wordlessly
to deal murder and great harm to trolls.

73.
Fierce, he whets his eyes;
fire leaps from the peaks of his brows;
the trolls receive their doom —
their hosts die now in droves.

74.
Like him, Leó fells the army
down upon the ground;
in the midnight's corpse-storms
the belly of the earth groaned.

75.
The club grinds all to nothing;
the age must endure Hel's embrace;
the blood runs scalding hot
over the cool-hearted champion's hands.

76.
Death is finished with all,
if any take a stand there;
like sheep before him,
Leó drives the whole flock.

77.
Thunder of blades shattered the peace,
the dull vault of the hills rumbled,
the girdle of the land resounded —
the Hidden Folk could not sleep.

78.
Coal-black Gríma presses there,
thunder from the shattered clouds rings;
the stars gleam feebly,
nowhere showing useful light.

79.
Little is known of the high lights;
the sky is smothered by a bank of cloud;
the great-faced Moon wraps himself
cold in his dark shroud.

80.
Grim is the world's condition then;
the people suffer cunning blows;
cold storms blow upon
the black wing-beams of night.

81.
Amid the deepest dark of the black elves,
amid men's blood and the mounds of the dead,
most hearts tremble with terror
at the dreadful sight of ghosts.

82.
Whatever befalls, to greatest harm,
from the dark-sent horrors,
Leó presses ever forward —
nothing stands against him.

Sjöunda Ríma — Seventh Ríma

New Long-hendíng metre. Mansöngr to Iðunn — the river of song breaking free from ice; the poet's marriage and children; his faithfulness. The rockfall simile. Leó confronts Hersilia and Numa; battle of the Marsians; Day comes on a white horse; the apostrophe to the Sun; the Marsians are destroyed; Leó fights alone at the river; Numa thrusts Leó into the current with an oak-trunk; Romulus, wounded, calls a council of war; Numa proposes the mountain-trap; Romulus promises his daughter.

1.
Like a river locked in frost
when thawing snows break free,
that shatters from itself the blue ice
and bellows down to the ocean's mouth —

2.
And as from its straight channel
it tears away earth and stones,
and drives with life across level fields
the water clean before it —

3.
It clears the ice like feathers,
sheds it down in heavy scales;
the current's pulse groans at the earth's edges,
the rumble rings through long channels —

4.
So does the harp's dread of song
drive heart-weariness far from the road!
Let the heart feed on good gladness
so that merry verses may float!

5.
So let the spirit's burden fly
from the noble horse of Tyr's light —
I, who tame my untried play,
on Iðunn's harp-wire.

6.
O my woman, bright Iðunn,
you alone who gladden my mind now —
you who stir within the heart,
the warmth of your love's mead!

7.
Once it was many maids' delight
in my youth's throng of women,
but now all is sworn entirely
to your rare gentleness, Iðunn.

8.
Our children multiply —
best to wake and work at it,
cast off laziness from oneself,
and ask the dear spouse for help.

9.
Let me draw away all doubt
and tell everyone boldly:
I have not begotten
our dear little ones in sin.

10.
Whether they are fair or not,
all we may count lawfully begotten;
though they die meagre and marrowless,
none may lay blame on me.

11.
Since I have longed for you as friend
and taken you from the land's women,
I swear an oath before all others —
I intend myself for Hreppskilar.

12.
As from the topmost peak of mountains
a terrible cliff-face slides,
that in its fall, driven by winds,
breaks the earth's roads asunder —

13.
It drags the deep avalanche with it,
thundering in blows of dreadful weight,
cuts down and hews through
the hillside's fair breast —

14.
From its fragments fire leaps;
no place of peace avails;
the shepherd scatters, the flock flees,
the frightened traveller cowers —

15.
The earth weeps, the world shakes,
the dense rock crashes through the streets,
until it meets two oaks
whose roots are woven together —

16.
These halt the terrible stone,
each supports the other as it can;
their feet spur against its fall,
turning the cliff's course.

17.
So Leó, strong and stiff,
halts the rush of steel in its deep courses,
when he finds in the host
both Hersilia and Numa.

18.
The shield-maiden comes against the champion,
speaks ugly words to him thus:
"You shall threaten us no more,
worst of all scoundrels!"

19.
"You shall fall, carried before the shadow,
soon with greatest torments —
you may boast in hell's halls
of having wounded the Caesar of Rome."

20.
Now she strikes double-handed
with the keen blade across his skull;
the sweating champion grins at the woman —
he stands still, and lives.

21.
It bites not on the hard breast;
the maiden's brand the champion takes,
draws it along the wound-lines
so that the ring-lady shudders.

22.
Like snow-bright lightning
quickens the raw flash of might —
Numa rushes at him with his spear,
and the good shield turns the blow.

23.
The blow comes on the bright shield,
does what damage it can;
the viper stings Numa's breast,
urged on by the strong one.

24.
The best blood ran down
over the breast — the hero shielded his lady;
but fortune's support turns,
and the small wound causes no torment.

25.
He gives the maiden the bright shield —
she must defend herself with it;
the spear stirs folk to advance,
and now the fighting begins in earnest.

26.
After this Leó seeks further —
little can be won by wrath;
a great host comes between them,
and the warriors cannot find each other.

27.
Numa sees Hektor pressed hard —
hard to dodge that blow;
the mountain-sword bites the spear;
the warrior falls to earth.

28.
Líger sees this swiftly,
shook the long war-brand,
but was forced to sink, flayed by the sword,
on the path to hell, and lost his breath.

29.
The true hero cuts his way,
the fierce one clears a broad road;
he chops now with both hands —
blood runs down from his arms.

30.
Hersilia at his side
held close and slew warriors;
the Marsians flee from the power
of man and woman at their edges.

31.
Swords sting, shafts ring,
blood-rivers flood in this direction;
the fire drives all of Odin's host —
the earth's encirclement shudders.

32.
Inglorious Hel claims warriors;
none rejoices at her demands;
in the choking death they drink
from blood-heaps, fallen heroes.

33.
Arrows rain, terrors harrow,
streams run red;
swords clash, fell folk —
death casts its ranks across the field.

34.
Men's minds madden beyond measure,
neither skill nor peace avails;
foul smoke fills the whole
between heaven and earth.

35.
In hell-blue blind flames
the bloody corpses of men are scorched;
few can stumble to the battle's shallows —
the field must at last give way.

36.
But there where the slaughter wastes men,
fair of face, at the right time,
comes Day on a white horse;
bloody Gríma retreats from here.

37.
The sun gilds, wreathed in roses,
gladly and with skill the earth's moor;
the world fills with heaven's lights,
the darkness sinks down into the sea.

38.
But will you, blessed Sun,
calm the still halls of wind-speech,
and over the frenzied wells of blood
scatter your blessed golden beams?

39.
Wrap your face in clouds,
let it not shine on this day,
so that the foul likeness in blood's depths
may be hidden from all eyes.

40.
Earth and heaven's heights tremble
here where blood-pits flood;
ah, I fear lest some shaft
strike you yourself!

41.
Now the Marsian host has sunk;
the multitude lay on hell's sheets;
ten stood on the battlefield after,
beside their captain.

42.
Alor the strong yet lives;
he turns away with a few warriors,
crosses the river —
noble Tyr's snow-white fingers.

43.
Leó stands there alone,
waving the heavy troll-club;
spears crack but break on meeting;
brow-mountains split asunder.

44.
He stirs the blood-storm,
felling warriors stiff;
it seems meet to flee
while he commands his club.

45.
The man can barely drag his feet,
cannot manage quick steps,
there where the river sets its blades —
by the current he halts.

46.
Rome's host pursues,
the rough warriors count their blows;
the club sweeps flying shadows,
sending men hence to Hel.

47.
Whenever any warrior
comes within the club's reach,
the maiden's champion fells men,
strikes with force to both sides.

48.
Numa pushed his way through;
the battle-storm passes through him;
he clears his path and does not spare —
oak-wood he bears in hand.

49.
The strengthened warrior in fury
breaks a long oak from its trunk,
thrusts it against Leó's breast —
the strong champion must yield.

50.
He sees him driven out over the hands,
drifting the stream's way;
he is in the deep, until he lands
on the far side — the champion of deeds.

51.
Then the hero turned homeward,
the warrior's mate far from fear;
but he does not go triumphantly,
as though he were chased in flight.

52.
Like a hungry wolf, beaten,
who alone crept through the sheep-pens —
slow and long he drags his way
and stares with swollen death-pale eyes.

53.
So Leó dragged his shining feet
across the riverbanks;
Numa forbids his men to pursue
the fierce-minded man across the river.

54.
Under the white canopy of day
Rome's people rest;
Numa looks upon the leavings of the battle —
ugly the blood-floods spit.

55.
Limbs of horses and men lie
like waves of blood at a ditch;
each must rest upon his neighbour,
sunk against a cold corpse.

56.
Clotted blood on stiff bodies —
the folk holds steady who live;
hot vapor rises to heaven
from the wretched strife.

57.
The war-fallen by their blood-heaps
stand out from all before them,
like mountains in heaps of terror —
they clothed the battlefield bare.

58.
At daylight's fair dawn,
beaten and strength-drained,
Romulus wakes in the bed of wounds
and groans heavily.

59.
The king calls hither
from the waves of strife his wealthy daughter,
here with all his captains —
and Numa follows likewise.

60.
The king, in torment, speaks thus:
"For this I wished to find you —
give counsel that bodes well
to win the grey war-game."

61.
"Leó wraps the host in harm —
more like a troll than men;
he has more strength than a fiend,
and causes waves of wounding falls."

62.
"No sword can wound the man
who dressed himself in lion-hide;
who knows when with a new band,
by night, he steals hither again?"

63.
"Without peace I must bear my lesser hurts,
the great wounds I must endure;
now it is yours to counsel —
to cut through this fierce peril."

64.
The chieftains ponder —
mostly they call the plans tangled:
to build a rampart for defence
around the whole field.

65.
Hersilia raised these points,
proved in the clash of battle:
"Best to test new arrows —
let the cursed nation fall."

66.
The king says: "I am not done,
still can wage the war;
and in no way shall I flee —
first all Romans shall die."

67.
Numa ponders men's counsel,
the young man values knowledge;
then the hand-lord of the palms
addresses the prince thus:

68.
"If you permit, noble wise one —
a young and proven man —
I wish to raise my thought
on the matter that troubles us."

69.
The lord speaks, weighed and heavy:
"I esteem your valiant deeds;
I shall hear, young hero,
what counsel you can try."

70.
"Not far hence" — the young one speaks —
"I have seen narrow valleys
fall between the horns of mountains,
where high crags sing in storms."

71.
"There a single path from the cliffs
leads down into the valley;
then a smooth battlefield,
wrapped in the high brows of mountains."

72.
"A third of the host I would command —
they shall march swiftly there,
until on both high brows
we take our stand."

73.
"We shall pile stones in heaps
and hide here; but Rome's king
shall fight the Marsians
with his host and swing steel."

74.
"When the hard storm of battle presses,
and stiff swords waste life,
the lord shall feign flight
and lead them into the narrow valley."

75.
"There between the strait mountains
they will follow furiously;
the wretched host cannot guard
against the trap we shall prepare."

76.
"There the prince meets them head-on;
the rest stand fast —
when stones in heaps are hurled
from the peaks down by my host."

77.
"They will scatter before arrows
and find a narrow road to safety,
before the wondrous great stones
that leap at them from both sides."

78.
"This I know as the best counsel —
warriors shall be kept in strength;
but let the wise one alter it
if his high wisdom commands otherwise."

79.
Rome's king rises from his bed —
the peaceful counsel pleases him;
gladly and with honour
he speaks thus to the young man:

80.
"You whom the gods see fit to grant
unmatched wisdom —
you shall have twelve hundred
Sabine warriors."

81.
"Go to the high mountain-tops;
the folk shall heed your counsel;
I shall myself soon rouse
the sons of sin to battle."

82.
"When the hard storm of battle presses,
and the sword pains the servant-mate,
then as reward I shall let you
take my promised daughter."

Ríma VIII — Áttunda Ríma

Mansöngr — The poet remembers the women of Iceland

1.
While women and men lie waking,
accustomed to the joy of song,
the swans of Victory's God still cry
upon the waters of the Mead-stream.

3.
Wise shoulders settle on the laps
of young gold-treaders;
they sing, they cry, they tell
the tales of peoples and homelands.

4.
To those kind-natured ones who listen,
who never lose their custom,
the wise sweetnesses know well
my songbirds.

5.
Once on fair ground
I sang poems for the women;
they knew me both, and I
knew them — enough to please them.

6.
Many grew glad when I composed,
the maidens of the Ice-land,
yielding and loving,
the poor and the rich alike.

7.
Do not let the wise-hounds
run off with those words —
that I buy your love
with poems now.

8.
From here I am glad to send
verses home to you,
and their ignoble tales
I shall smother.

9.
My scrolls shall be kept,
though maidens forget the harm,
if I drift home grey with age
one day to the land.

10.
When I drag the ship-horse to the rollers
and find my way home to my mother,
the scarlet-clothed ladies
shall welcome the Poet best.

11.
I am glad that the friend to whom
many have been sent
lets you read his poem-scroll
on the winter evenings.

12.
Numa's eyes burn toward his bride's light,
toward her, as was hoped;
the oak of the fire-sea
burns equally toward him.

13.
The breasts, the temper — free from pain —
in love's warm embrace;
love, delight, life, and fortune
blazed on the eyelids of both.

14.
No words are heard there,
the ears are soothed to stillness;
the souls draw together,
yet neither may speak.

15.
At last the man left the maiden,
let her eyelids' blossoms fade;
utterly devoted, he falls
before the king of Rome.

16.
And he speaks thus:
"You, my Life-giver —
in no way can I
repay you in return.

17.
"This honour you show me
is beyond all wonder;
but my shield shall bathe
bare in blood for your sake.

18.
"My mind shall stay wakeful
to carry out your will,
and all my strength shall lend its aid
until life's final heartbeat.

19.
"Unconquerable as you,
fair lady who shields the peaceful —
that is what I am able to become."

20.
"Friend of the Sea-god! stop now
scattering your free oaths,
though the gold-sun sheds
its warm rays upon you.

21.
"Kindling burns out easily,
and the flame dies quickly;
love grows weary when wishes are sated,
often straying from its set course.

22.
"When she has consumed that fire
and spoiled the matter swiftly,
what remains after is rotting ash —
one alone, from her own roots."

23.
The dark one speaks to Numa:
"Lord of the snow-capped peaks,
I shall give you a following-host
to turn upon the mountains.

24.
"At once we gather our people here —
you may call the whole company
to sing the sword-song,
all the Sabines.

25.
"Spare not the stones,
when you have your warriors in place;
I shall march against the Marsians,
though the wounds press hard."

26.
Numa bids the king farewell,
eager to obey;
the host moves up between the mountains,
he goes on both flanks.

27.
The king rose from the hall;
his body was set into his shield;
he could ride in a chariot,
even though he was wounded.

28.
The king leads his host across the land;
the tents are struck down;
forward along the river's current,
the whole army pours downward.

29.
Leó comes then with his folk,
visible across the ground;
the sound of horns strikes the ear,
the cliffs echo beneath the tones.

30.
Helmets gleam against the high wheel of heaven,
fire streams from unbroken rings;
sky-blue and keen,
the lightnings of the High One glow.

31.
The hosts crash together across the field,
and the sport of spears begins —
as when two great rivers
pour together from mighty floods.

32.
Sword-edges gnaw upon helmets,
thinning warriors' flesh;
restless streams of blood
run across the flat of the land.

33.
Leó wades bold into the fight,
swinging his club;
many a man's life is shattered —
the storm of Swords rages.

34.
The man longs to find Romulus;
the king sees that strength
and hides within his ranks —
for the first time in his life.

35.
When the storm is hardest,
and warriors hurl their slings,
the Roman host begins to flee,
seeking the mountain-paths.

36.
The other folk press hard,
cut with battle-fury,
on the heels of the Romans
they mark the bloody tracks.

37.
Leó, with the war-roar,
will drive all the men mad;
so the whole age is herded
in between the mountains.

38.
When now in the narrow dale
thorns and rocks scrape and crack,
the Romans turn their falcon-feathers
and take a hard stand.

39.
Folk across the ground contend in strife,
keenly whetting their blades;
life and shield are sundered
in the hot flames of battle.

40.
Then all at once from the mountains,
monstrous stones come sliding down;
the Marsians' bones are crushed —
many wail and collapse.

41.
From both sides of the mountains
the host hurls stones;
defences crumble now
against the onslaught-storm.

42.
The Marsians are crushed like gnats —
the wounds slay the doomed;
inside the mountain-fold
they cannot flee.

43.
The cliffs deliver blows from the brows;
the ridges batter their breasts;
the Marsians, weary, fight on,
but at last dare no more.

44.
They flung their wound-scythes away,
seeking a moment of peace;
but Romulus's fierce will
would not grant it.

45.
Leó gnaws the hot fury
in useless pools of blood;
he breaks himself a path through the press,
fire blazing from his eyes.

46.
The club through the army's hard sport
cuts a savage gap;
he cannot see his own men,
so he strikes them just the same.

47.
Thus the hot warrior cried out,
on a day of horrors:
"Wretched goats, flee from here!
Hide wherever you can.

48.
"Die, all you cowards,
beasts at the mounds of ruin!
Up the mountain I shall hurry
to find the stone-trolls!"

49.
So alone upon the slope,
his stout feet suffer;
the hurtling stones in the hard storm
he shoves away from himself.

50.
He moves like a baited bear,
shot through the heart,
seeking his slayer,
his victory-strength spent.

51.
Leó forced his way upward,
though boulders tumbled down;
he flings the stones away from himself,
nowhere stopping.

52.
Now he is midway up the slope,
loaded with such wounds;
Numa forbids the wise folk
to roll more stones upon the man.

53.
The swift hero calls out:
"Lord of the feather-torrent!
I wish to spare your life —
stay where you are!"

54.
Numa then comes to meet the man,
bearing the wound-fury;
down the slope he hastens his feet —
the other awaits the encounter.

55.
On a single hammer-crag,
after long exhaustion,
the two warriors meet,
and seize upon their quarrel.

56.
Leó says: "Let me pass,
let me push the road further;
I will not fight you —
chosen hurler of swords.

57.
"For I prize your hero's heart,
your courage, above all;
let me scatter that other army —
that suits my spirit better."

58.
"Great-hearted, fierce you are,
a young man and fair;
it would be a great harm here
if the serpent should cut you down."

59.
Numa answers: "Not one whit
shall you escape these wounds!
Take your spear and club —
come now and make your trial."

60.
Leó set his club down loose
upon the ground,
shakes the blue fire of the shield-world —
the cliff shivers a moment.

61.
"Use your hands now, quickly here!"
— fit counsel for the brave;
hot, both their brands bite,
they slash at each other furiously.

62.
Both strike and barely guard;
they scatter cold earth;
horribly they crash
upon their hollow shields.

63.
Neither gives ground;
Þundr's fires burn hot;
the copper helmets ring,
frightened under the blows.

64.
Leó swung his keen brand;
his temper soured;
Numa's shield-rim splits
right at the hand-grip.

65.
Numa strikes the brightness then,
his spear against the bough;
the flat of the blade strikes the byrnie —
but bites not at all.

66.
The spear shatters on the lion's claws;
the stroke felt hard;
his weapons fail, his hands are empty —
the fair hero stands.

67.
Leó must endure the charge;
the warrior strikes swift;
Numa asks for no quarter —
he mastered the giant.

68.
The lord of the sea-light
could gain no firm footing;
Leó falls flat —
the mountain shivers a moment.

69.
He who bore courage and luck,
clad in grey steel,
gripped the fallen man's throat
and came then to words:

70.
"No trial shall conquer you
while you bear the good sword;
but as reward for your courage,
I offer you life and spirit."

71.
Leó, fallen, speaks:
"Lord of the snow-bright stream!
Gladly I accept life from you
and shall show you all service."

72.
The famous feet stand;
they embrace with joy;
no quarrels are remembered —
sweet delight gladdens both.

73.
So this battle ends;
the broad rings of Þundr descend
the high mountainside;
swords are sheathed.

Ríma IX — Níunda Ríma

Mansöngr (Stanzas 1–15)

1.
Shall I keep on further still,
or cease — and among Greenland's cold cliffs
let the poems fall down and die?

2.
Now no woman will seek out verses;
the girls in their sealskin trousers
have no longing for books of refrains.

3.
The menfolk cannot understand verse-speech —
do they think it costs nothing
that I have long rattled the shield of song?

4.
Here among the high mountains
I tune my measures;
therefore in hidden stones I hear
a hundred voices for every one.

5.
Gracefully in the calm, the mountains
bring forth their song;
if they choose me as precentor,
they are eager to give the response.

6.
My dealings with them fall
well to my liking,
while I hear the brooks resound
and the strings of verse never fall silent.

7.
If I fall silent — the river perhaps
would clothe itself in ice;
my mountains too would grow weary
when the singing of songs is spent.

8.
May the poem at last come home
to Iceland,
and so increase the joy and delight
of Gullhringr's god and Sörfi's linden.

9.
I know, Girls! that you are still
drawn to my poetry,
and then you say quietly among yourselves:
"That wretch Breiðfjörð is still alive!

10.
"Did you know him?" asks one,
and another says: "Oh yes,
a good fellow in every way;
he was often on his travels.

11.
"Truthfully, the fellow seemed a decent tippler;
he was called a ladies' man —
which may have been slander.

12.
"One could barely escape
his woman-chasing;
though he was not entirely loose —
may that never be said of me!

13.
"It was a trial for me and many,
his great drinking;
while he was on his wanderings here,
he kept up that sort of carousing.

14.
"Much he spoke, cheerful at table,
entertaining, seldom angry —
grant him that honour."

15.
I do not think this talk is needful
to recite to the people's ears;
be quiet instead, good Girls!

Narrative (Stanzas 16–82)

16.
Down from the mountain the men came
and found the army;
the greater part of the Marsians was slain —
all resistance had ended.

17.
It was ugly to look about
in the low dales:
blood, marrow, and raw brain —
the people's wailing will not cease.

18.
Men bathed in pools of blood
among the heaped corpses;
the carrion-queens prowled
above the mountains.

19.
Eagles sat upon them
with harsh gorging;
the sky, with the ravens' traffic
and the greedy howling, no one could endure.

20.
Numa goes and finds the highest
lord of Rome;
Leó comes there likewise —
the king's friend composes his speech:

21.
"Here I have captured the hero
who long frightened us;
yet I know in the songs of battle
none shall conquer him."

22.
"I have promised him quarter,
for to kill the champion
would be a great loss
and the worst shame to me."

23.
"I wish to propose
that all the Marsians be spared —
those who fell, did not find mercy;
enough has been done, I would say."

24.
Then mighty Romulus
speaks to the warrior:
"Your deeds and your worth together —
neither is a small thing.

25.
"Yet for the sake of manly virtue
and our kinship,
something I shall do at your word,
and resolve the matter thus:

26.
"From this day forward,
bound to all conditions,
the Marsian peoples shall serve me
and obey my commands.

27.
"Leó, bound to your wagon,
shall be led to Rome —
so that our fame be increased —
and driven forward with whips."

28.
The people accept these terms
with gratitude;
most wished to save their lives,
though it cost them their freedom.

29.
Leó stands there bowed
and dark of face;
the noble warrior answers nothing —
he finds such terms a bitter taste.

30.
Numa takes his hand
and begins to speak:
"You may decide your own path;
I myself have the power to pardon you.

31.
"You shall be bondsman to no one
for the rest of your life;
you may go home crowned with honour —
away from here, swift champion!"

32.
Leó stirs at that
and says at last:
"I will serve you gladly, Numa —
that frightens me not at all."

33.
Numa answers: "Though you offer me
your service,
I will not accept it —
a slave's ways will not tame a free man."

34.
Numa gives him a good sword-hilt
with a gilded bridle;
then bids him farewell
and the hero departs.

35.
Leó gives his shield in return
as recompense
to the most famous lord of finger-fire —
for the one who was able to break him.

36.
So they embrace with fair words,
both warriors;
Leó leads his people home;
each wishes the other good fortune.

37.
Romulus, who watched and listened
to this manner of things,
did not like it at all —
yet he did not stitch on blame.

38.
Homeward to Rome the army
now hastens to march;
men ride over heath and meadow,
nearly both night and day.

39.
A wagon goes before the host
in fine splendour;
inside it, sharing the seat,
are Hersilia and Numa both.

40.
Would anyone now wish himself,
among the young men,
who loves a woman dear,
to sit in a seat like his?

41.
That will not be tedious,
I should think —
when the fair one embraces the beloved,
to fall into her gentle arms.

42.
When I took the maiden's hand
with a soft tinkling,
I felt — when I was younger —
fire blaze on every finger.

43.
When I laid my hand most gently
around the swan's neck,
through every vein it ran —
love I felt then, burning.

44.
When I could fall into the arms
of the young lady,
I knew nothing more of myself;
others may guess what follows.

45.
From all this it is clear to me
that young Numa
knew nothing of sorrow —
and the same may be believed of her.

46.
What they both thought then
and both endured,
that will not enter this poem,
though my life depended on it.

47.
The army comes home to Rome
with the best of fortune;
they hold the greatest victory-feast,
with the sound of joy and the priests' offerings.

48.
King Tasi comes to welcome
his dear Numa;
he does not know his love-dreams —
the noble shepherd of radiant streams.

49.
Romulus commands the hero's silence
and the hall's attention;
then speaks aloud
in the highest keeper of princely garments:

50.
"Numa alone deserves
to hold this feast;
he has won the bitter battle
and the unconquered byrnie of Þjassi.

51.
"To all I make it known —
for it may not be hidden —
I give to the linden of the Rhine's heat
my daughter Hersilia.

52.
"Tomorrow I shall grant them both
the priests' consecration;
a feast and the highest honour
shall not fail our champions.

53.
"All night long shall provisions
and food be prepared;
so I ordain it here:
the celebration shall last ten days.

54.
"Then know this: when these days
have passed,
we all march out to war again —
it avails nothing to sit at home."

55.
King Tasi has heard
the lord's speech;
he pales in countenance,
his brows sink lower.

56.
He too meekly asks for silence;
then raises words with Romulus,
as though they were brothers:

57.
"Mighty hero, my equal
in power and wealth!
I have one thing to ask of you —
you must not set it aside.

58.
"Sit at home this one year
with all your army;
all our realm's resources are spent,
and the ranks of the poor are swollen.

59.
"All that the farmers' industry
yields in a year,
your army destroys in one stroke,
and at home want compels us.

60.
"Our silver and wealth
are in your garments;
you face the same ruin
if you let us starve to death.

61.
"Therefore I wish that the people,
this entire year,
each man without exception,
should sow the fields and tend the meadows."

62.
Romulus with dark countenance
and lowered brows
answers him not a word —
and so departed from the assembly.

63.
Tasi takes Numa's hand
and finds his speech:
"I wish you all that is good,
as my duties oblige.

64.
"Truly I did not expect
you would be betrothed —
shaped by Hersilia's blessings —
here, as soon as you returned.

65.
"I did not gain the happiness
of being called your father;
yet I shall always,
as a brother, love you with a good heart."

66.
At this speech Numa's
red cheeks flush;
but the young man left the crowd
and went home to his chamber.

67.
Numa goes home likewise
sick in mind;
the ember of love burns in him —
he half expects to fall ill.

68.
At home in the hall Hersilia
welcomes him;
again her bright eye
kindles new flames of love.

69.
When he has refreshed himself
beside the cheerful lady,
word comes that Numa must hasten
out to Egeria's grove.

70.
Silent in his thoughts he walks
along these paths,
until somewhere he hears
cries and wailing; he hurries there.

71.
And what does he see? Nothing
but terror and harm:
under the swords of evil bondsmen,
noble Tasi fallen dead.

72.
Those thralls have worked
their fury on the wise prince —
the blood-dripping servants of rage,
men of Romulus's own bodyguard.

73.
The prince had gone out
in his sorrow;
those men obey their master's bidding —
they murder the king and tear his wounds.

74.
Numa is struck sick at the sight;
his weapon shakes;
he drives through the first villain —
the worst of the band Hel takes.

75.
The other villains flee,
but the spear-tree
sits down beside the king
and would stanch the wounds.

76.
The king asks: "Leave this,
good hero —
you might as well try to cool
the red sea — my wounds are many unto death.

77.
"I will give praise to the gods
and forget my pains,
that in your arms
I may surrender my spirit.

78.
"My daughter I beg you tenderly —
protect her;
the murderers, filled with fury,
will not be kind to her."

79.
Numa says: "I swear by your undying soul!
Until my days may wane,
I shall cherish your daughter
as the best thing I may possess.

80.
"It does not befit me to wed
among your murderers;
Tasía alone I shall love —
and forget and hide the love of the other."

81.
The prince embraces the young man
with a loving hand;
he wishes to speak, but — in that breath —
the best ruler of lands gave up his spirit.

82.
The noble hero lifts the king's body
on his shoulders,
bears him home to the city of Rome,
and prepares him now with honour and dignity.

Tíunda Ríma — Tenth Ríma

Mansöngr on the desolation of winter; Numa bears the news of Tasi's death to Hersilia; she rejects him and poisons herself; Tasi's funeral pyre; the Sabines rally behind Numa; the Romans besiege them; Numa sues for peace and is rebuffed; battle at the gates of Rome; Numa rides alone into the wilderness and finds Leó in a cave.

1.
The lovely meadows are sunk here,
hard times take root,
the green land is buried
under blizzards of snow.

2.
Willows lock the waters still,
cruel timbers press,
the fierce north-storms whet
the mouths of furious gales.

3.
The mighty peace has fled;
the mountains stand naked;
the elf-hounds howl,
their quarters stripped bare.

4.
The mountains groan, thickened,
heavy winds shake them;
the trolls moan within,
raging at their draperies.

5.
It pleases me to labour
at the storm-falls of strength;
good manners here
sustain the fields of form.

6.
It were a joy if the ring-wind
sent the word of friendship;
to bring together meeting's gifts,
and lengthen fleeting life.

7.
By your grace, Iðunn alone,
my spirit trusts in song!
Smooth verses ease the pain,
and strengthen every good.

8.
Guard against suspicion —
do not waste the point of praise;
few offerings these crooked
places shall receive.

9.
Grief's longing softens pain,
speaking eases trials,
when at last we seat the lad
in friendship's cloak of honour!

10.
Let him who sees this sending
judge the precious rings;
let him hold the bright-tongued speech
with gentle eyes.

11.
Now the grove-fire Numa
(whose pain lessens at last)
hastens to bridge the broad road
and find his Bride.

12.
Hersilia, red-cheeked,
welcomes the bold man;
the steadfast word wakes tales —
the fire-god feeds the embers:

13.
"White-veiled Gerðr! quickly —
give me your trust at once;
our bond must now be severed,
our love-knot cut.

14.
"Your father Tasi has been murdered,
his life let slip;
robbed of sight, old in years,
the blows found him."

15.
The ring-bold lady paled,
a long moment's silence,
then the anger swelled —
her cheek-veil flushed.

16.
The woman wraps herself in rage,
groaning with dark threats;
then she gives this answer,
glaring, sharp and false:

17.
"Little hurt do I reckon
from mighty Roman blood;
Rome's line counts such a lad
as something small.

18.
"While we let the wound-stream flow
and hide the dog's deceit,
hence away from this lady —
you bound cheat!"

19.
Numa bites back the ache of thought;
the brave one wounds his buckle;
he yields the field to Fáfnir's bride
and walks from Freyja's ride.

20.
He works his noble deeds;
the dove-flood's ember —
the gentle warrior of the meadow —
finds Tasía at home.

21.
She weaves grief thick around her,
the ring-woman sore,
having heard the news of her father's death;
her eyes let fall their tears.

22.
The brave youth sits down beside her,
explaining what the oaths must mean:
"The greatest hurt falls to you,
fair maiden, from this sorrow.

23.
"You should know, most noble
weigh-goddess of rings:
the jewelled woman bade me
take the fallen lord as husband's price.

24.
"The good turf of the burial-mound
confirms the marriage-pledge;
choose now the betrothed lady —
your father's pyre demands it."

25.
He kissed the woman; brightened, she turned,
and pledged her deeds in vows;
the maiden dissented — "A prince may
rule the maiden's choice."

26.
The burning thanes lay logs,
the prince's pyre they kindle;
the people drag it to the field,
the fire thins the wood.

27.
The fierce flames lick the blaze;
the body burns to nothing;
thither Nístis leads the Dead,
and Numa tends the rites.

28.
The pyre was to be hallowed,
the spear-wielder purified —
but treachery followed the old custom,
and the maiden felt its sting.

29.
Grief swells the rudderless,
the warriors groan within;
the dove-lady falls,
dead upon the ground.

30.
Hot and swollen now the corpse,
grief fills the reluctant cup;
poisoned, the fair one lies
blue and pale — the lady dead.

31.
Hel has taken the lady's life,
Hersilia led away;
the swollen hearts of men
are moved to heavy sorrow.

32.
Numa's breast bears the crushing weight;
the swords plunge into sheaths;
around Numa gathers
the Sabine host.

33.
In silence, with furrowed brows,
beneath the city walls,
the grey storm of Grani
makes the groves groan.

34.
Rome musters its troops at once,
packing the ranks tight;
the quarrels of rule increase,
the cliffs begin to crumble.

35.
The boulder-hurling grows,
waking the warriors' fury;
two factions rage alike,
the rout pours out its flood.

36.
First rides Numa near —
the people perish, pierced;
his furious blade shears through them,
thirsty to make war.

37.
The hands of warriors seize the brave,
the flesh is stung by swords;
helms are shattered, shields are torn,
the grim iron sings.

38.
The grief-keen warrior there,
swollen with anger,
the foal of the wound-track
carved and splashed his arms with blood.

39.
Fierce Grérir — the one who bites —
strikes down what he sees;
he drives the host to the field
beneath the gates of Rome.

40.
The hard scathe harries them,
though they press against the wood;
into the city, those who can
flee and drop the gates.

41.
The clash of spears swells again,
axes hurl and billow;
the Sabines wish
to break the gates asunder.

42.
The mighty ruler hears this,
Numa's anger grows;
the greater provocation stokes his rage —
he gives the tame their orders.

43.
He bids the men shove forward,
the prince with hard stones;
he lashes them with heavy blows,
the wounds are dealt.

44.
The edges shake once more,
each man grasps a lance;
the weary men take bows
and send their shafts at the walls.

45.
The prince sets upon the wall
the women who sling stones;
the people grow ashamed,
and the thorns sting less.

46.
They throw heavy swords,
the thick-armed trees of battle;
the bladed runners
are hurled from above.

47.
The women's veil of thought conceals,
the one degraded sends a message
to the prince's court:
he wishes to buy terms of peace.

48.
The foolish lord says:
"First my friends must perish,
then let Numa die beside them —
the rest shall be crowned by us."

49.
The fierce one wished for peace,
the spark-wise lord to halt,
but he should be exiled from the land,
a fugitive, dishonoured.

50.
He who hurls the spears of his mind
thought this unjust counsel;
no man may look upon the prince
who flees in sudden rout.

51.
Let the war-dragged ones come near to Numa,
let the short truce serve;
when the warriors find their meeting,
let the visiting slayer fall.

52.
The people rage, grief burns,
they endure these cruelties;
Odin's fire spreads wide,
the ships are turned again.

53.
The cries of war build everywhere,
the swords are shaken;
the fair nation refuses
to let Numa be cast out.

54.
The gleam-worker of deeds sees this,
stripped of gentle peace;
the noble lord falls silent,
and bids the people hear:

55.
"Stop the flood of battle here,
hurl no more stiff stones;
accept the good peace —
then you shall find it.

56.
"Long should the pure mind think —
hear the people's multitude —
no man should wish
that through me they suffer harm.

57.
"The gentle ones who ease harm,
who furnish the host with skill —
remember my days now,
sated with provision.

58.
"The good God await you,
protect you, precious brethren!
Let peace lead the willing folk —
this weariness diminishes."

59.
The people leave the noble one,
seized with anxious care;
the youth rides to the field,
held by no strife.

60.
The groves glisten before the lord,
the earth seems to glow,
the peaks dance, the clay dissolves,
the land of Numa vanishes.

Ellefta Ríma — Eleventh Ríma

Mansöngr — st. 1–12

Many a man bears strife for a bride —
the suitors she takes note of;
some crawl away broken-backed,
clean across the world's ends.

2. We should not weep over loss
when a maiden slips from our grasp;
others say marriage endures —
and sometimes proves a cur.

3. Some have courted sweetly
on fine days of proposal;
when it is off and on for most,
everything is the same for both.

4. When the sweet lad clinks with her
(so it goes at first, straightaway),
one of her fingertips
is then the greatest sign of grace.

5. But if love grows between them
and she lets the dear man closer,
the fingers creep upward —
the maiden embraces him at last.

6. Let your luck stand long and well,
in life and death take heed,
as though the devil himself were in hell —
let men think to live then!

7. Now serve each other well,
compose and keep small songs,
tune yourselves in the evening —
so that the cold Moon may soften.

8. Beauty enough adorns field and sea,
every hillock bears lilies,
ice thaws and all snow melts
wherever sweet love passes.

9. No wounds need trouble them then,
that fair wedded pair;
on water alone they shall feed,
and on love in the green meadow.

10. When the marriage-bonds tighten
and holy shepherds of souls preside,
sometimes the rod of will is pruned —
the words of both friends then.

11. Then one may get a house and hay,
tousle the small children,
the blue water and love — no,
it does no good to spend them all.

12. So do not change your mind about a maiden,
avoid the harm of the bed-sheet!
Whether you marry or not,
you may take regret from it.

Narrative — st. 13–60

13. Quite alone, Numa now,
worthy and swift of courage,
sets the saddle-knob
upon old grey Grani's back.

14. Long he rides on through the plains,
the steadfast hero forced to flee;
he sees no lodging anywhere,
the field stretches on without thought.

15. Longing stirs thick desire in him,
the dear warrior of the lion's lair;
he feeds on the edges of the forest,
and can find no other comfort.

16. It was upon an evening
that he found a little cave;
weary, he lay down there
and made use of the shelter.

17. Something stirs inside, for
the fierce one finds a sleeper —
lying in a lion-skin,
his own Leó — and wakes him.

18. The one who slept casts off his drowse,
and finds he meets his best friend;
now it was a meeting of joy,
dear Leó embraces the guest.

19. Both ask for each other's news
and rest upon a feather-bed of boulders;
Numa told, just as it was,
all of his journeys then.

20. Of all the strife and the flight,
the arrow-wielder told the tale;
Leó listens long,
and the reader knows what happened here.

21. Numa asks him to tell
his own life's story in return;
that shall be recited to you here,
for the narrative turns that way.

22. "In the Marsian land I was raised,
out in the valleys of the forest,
where my devoted mother,
much bent with age, cared for me.

23. "Our provisions were meagre.
My father I never saw.
A narrow hut served us in hardship,
tightly set in the valley-floor.

24. "We had a scrawny flock of sheep;
I tended them long days,
across moors, mountains, and earth,
lending fodder and sitting by.

25. "Good strength I seemed to gain;
so the time passed onward.
Apart from my mother,
I never saw a single person.

26. "My pastime in those days
was often to steal away from the sheep,
to clear boulders, to break wood,
and to swim in the blue current.

27. "Lions and bears I beat often;
they met their death from me.
Young, I had fearsome strength —
by such going I got it here.

28. "It was upon a certain day,
near the banks of a river,
I saw a shield-maiden in the saddle,
borne by a stumbling horse.

29. "Tall, bright of bearing,
she rode along a perilous cliff-path;
the jewel-bright doe of the island
galloped hard and rode fiercely.

30. "The horse lost its footing then —
the path was narrow for it —
the maiden falls into the river;
the fierce current bore her away.

31. "Without delay, when I saw it,
I flung myself into the cool current,
reaching for the finger-land of Earth,
rushing forward like a torrent.

32. "At last I caught the maiden —
though the Nile might fling its blue stream —
the fire-goddess fleeing the flood —
I dragged her onto the shore.

33. "All feeling had fled from her,
in the stiff falls of the water there;
I bore her to my mother,
the gold-rings of the wise Menja.

34. "We tended her with care;
her health was nearly lost,
but the day after, life and peace
she gained, and left her bed.

35. "Gently I gazed upon her,
the serpent-couch's fair goddess —
yet dared not think what
then dwelt within my heart.

36. "The Sun thanked me with her silk;
then she bade my mother farewell,
asked me to follow her on the road —
the blessed good maiden blessed me.

37. "Upon a high cliff
(I remember this rightly),
the sweet one sat down,
and spoke these tidings to me:

38. "'Long shall I remember you,
you who warmed me tenderly;
here you shall find me tomorrow —
I shall repay you a small reward.'

39. "The jewelled lady turned from me;
our meeting ended there.
Inside I felt something hot
that never was before.

40. "The next day, early,
I went out to roam;
my feet found the cliff,
where the Sun's clothes shone.

41. "Gerður the splendid gave me a noble spear,
with gentle tones, bright of brow,
this faithful lion-hide;
she has served me ever since.

42. "The fine woman came also with
my club and this blade;
she began to sharpen them well,
and spoke these golden words:

43. "'Little can I repay you this time
with gifts to gladden your thoughts;
but these weapons belonged to my grandfather
Achilles, who defeated Hector.

44. "'Use them well and bear them fast,
the good blade and the club;
dodge the cast of spears,
and seize the good hide.'

45. "I spoke due thanks then,
and felt set upon fortune's throne;
next I asked the name
of the hand-cliff's morning sun.

46. "Again the fair speech continues:
'For you I speak it openly —
rose-clad, dear one,
you may call me Kamilla.'

47. "I fell upon the maiden's neck;
she was not against it;
so we lay a little while
in gentle embracing ways.

48. "I tell you truly now:
troubled yearning was stilled;
each to the other, love and faith,
we bound there deeply.

49. "We arranged our meetings well;
embraces ripened sweetly;
every day the dear cliff
the Sun's clothes warmed hotly.

50. "Fortune is fickle in life;
when the year had passed,
she vanished entirely from me —
enough grief I bore for it.

51. "I believe, against her will
(evil men bar love's meetings),
my excellent woman
has been forced to yield to another lad.

52. "Some say from Sicily
a princeling carried the lady off,
seized her and dragged her onto a ship;
that thought presses me hard.

53. "Shortly after, the drink-goddess,
aged though she was from many years,
my gentle mother died;
I made her grave in the earth.

54. "Far I wandered then,
filled with grief, across the way of lands;
to find the young maiden again —
deeply I longed for it.

55. "Then I met the Marsian host;
with them I wielded the sword.
I was defeated, and before you
I fell, excellent hero!

56. "The Marsians then wanted to murder me,
for I had lost Hildr's battle;
from them with skill I fled,
and here I find my gentle friend.

57. "Never shall I cease, I vow,
to roam the wave-goddess's domain,
until I find her, she who bears blossoms,
the best sun of the earth's springs.

58. "To find the rogue in Sicily,
I shall not shrink from the task;
I know he is not good —
the fierce folk see a coward in him.

59. "Could I get a ship across the blue flood
and steer to the ruler's island,
I should take the maiden from the scoundrel
and raise the storm of battle."

60. Numa gives thanks then,
the fire-god of the sword;
so toward evening they find sleep —
but the mind-troubled slumber flees.

Tólfta Ríma — Twelfth Ríma

Mansöngr — st. 1–14

Come, Bragi's bride, good goddess,
in the bloom of heaven's garments!
Fortunate days gladden the people!
The harp resounds with song.

2. My strings' pure sound
soothes the mind's craving;
I sing long, I sing alone —
no one else sings.

3. The leather-clad maidens here
(the supply of goods dwindles)
flee from my verses and vanish
if I so much as name the poems.

4. At home in days of old, in Iceland,
in good hours of peace,
the blessed women were better pleased
by the words of poetry.

5. My heart conceals a maiden's power —
the jewel-stones of Menja glow —
I remember one and yearn unceasingly;
those wounds do not heal.

6. I shall never forget you, O
precious eyelash-goddess!
For in two worlds' weal and peace
I saw mine beside you.

7. Yet I never made your love
a thing for sale in words;
in my heart you saw what dwelt in me —
neither of us needed to speak.

8. Then I saw you given in hand
to another man;
I fled the land away from you then,
I fled a long road.

9. I fled to the northern half of the world,
and the world itself, so to speak;
you, pillar of glinting waves,
follow me every road.

10. You pressed close now this winter here,
wanting to teach me a lesson:
you tormented me in my dreams,
lady, three nights running.

11. I, silent, hung my head,
afraid to trust my soul:
will the sweet spirit, set free,
part now from the body's bonds?

12. And so hither it drifts,
gently for a dream's mending,
over, around, and inside me,
floating on streams of air.

13. Or would you, goddess of the spring,
on your life's road,
sometimes think softly of me,
the man in exile?

14. When you hear, my blessed one,
the cock of the brows crowing,
lend your ears to this!
About you I now speak.

Narrative — st. 15–74

15. The sun's good brightness was born;
the precious stags of the hall-winds wake;
the blessed blood of the morning sun
bled upon the mountain-peaks.

16. Light is born, darkness fades,
the wise ones are nourished;
the air rejoices, the hillsides shine,
the land clothes itself in blossoms.

17. Animals far and wide awaken,
casting off the night's hide;
green slopes glow,
the grasses creep to their feet.

18. Birds leave their nests,
flutter about the rocky crags,
sing beside the sun's meadows —
many long psalms.

19. On every grove the waters' peace descends,
in the blue vault of the sky;
the gentle slumber's sounds awaken
both Leó and Numa.

20. The night's sleep has been enough;
the worthy friends enjoy their rest;
swift feet hasten onward
upon gleaming rapids.

21. Quick Leó then lifts his voice
and turns the wheels of answer:
"Good man, tell me —
where shall we go now?"

22. Numa makes his answer then:
"It is ill to speak of hope;
I wish to hide myself, if I may,
in the innermost mountain-valleys.

23. "Here among the bears and lion-kind,
along the hard paths of the land,
better to dwell with them
than with the blind peoples of the earth.

24. "Such men frighten high peace away
and begrudge all others happiness;
let us seek the warriors' company apart."
Leó then speaks:

25. "To endure beside you is the finest dwelling,
exile of the gold-god's heir!
But Sicily I must find first,
and free the maiden — that is due."

26. Numa replies to the famous man,
the slope-spring's warrior:
"I shall go with you then,
this time, and fight.

27. "If you wish to hasten about it,
to prepare boats —
gladly I call upon the people
of the town of Cures.

28. "My father's folk — this nation —
served his spear unflinching;
when the jaws of swords resound,
they may rally to us.

29. "Though my heart desires peace,
my yearning presses hard;
the shield's toil does not frighten me;
endurance I can trust."

30. Leó thanks the dear one then,
the oak-bender bows;
he will make his way to the shore
and prepare the long vessels.

31. The worthy friends part soon
from the lyric-bright meadows;
nothing diminishes their ample strength.
Numa turns toward the mountains.

32. Leó goes where he was welcome,
along the strand with the breakers;
a hundred ships he receives there,
that warrior, from his allies.

33. Now he prepares the vessels well;
the sail-cloths spread wide;
he tightens the cables,
he rubs the brown prows smooth.

34. Noble Numa in the mountain hall —
I say he kept no idle court —
looks upon the blooming valley,
turning the light-beam toward evening.

35. The pleasant green ground lies gently,
chosen for the finest man;
the river down the hillside,
clean through the valley.

36. Fair in red hue, sheltered high,
stolen from the wind's embers,
small blossoms play at bleeding;
they gleam among the green trees.

37. The hero hastens onward,
mostly over the wide grounds,
and now he sees a group approaching
on foot below the hillsides.

38. Six in front (he sees it clearly),
six dark lads hurry along,
dragging a bound man with them
and making his time miserable.

39. Four servants follow behind
and hurry across the field;
they carry one good maiden,
the gold-stone's lady of the hands.

40. Both are silent, as the villains torment them;
troubles press upon them;
Numa makes his way toward them —
they scatter before him.

41. Blue flashes the victory-light —
brightness, Þundr's gleam fades;
the slaves cower beneath
the warrior's ringing blows.

42. Numa felled the first man
and drove the spear through him;
the second he cut end to end —
the rain of veins poured blood.

43. The other four rush in then,
those mighty fighters,
eight rings upon their armour —
not one slow to answer.

44. They try to throw a ring around the hero —
the grey radiance of Hroptr —
then the high lights of Ómi
blaze against the blue sky.

45. The champion dealt harsh blows,
hard as lightning flying;
he split one man's skull
and felled him in the fight.

46. From another he cut the foot
with his famous spear;
then the valiant one breaks the ring,
though little quarter is given.

47. The blood of the slaves froths then;
the peoples are forced down by misery;
the edges wound deeply
in Óðinn's blows of wrath.

48. Raw flesh flies then;
the mighty ones guard the corpses;
upon grey Grani
the blue blade bellowed.

49. The famous one flings the wicked hounds
all downward;
the goddess of battle draws close —
death-sounds rumbled in the mountains.

50. The warrior, proud, bore his wounds,
his shirt of Óðinn torn;
there he stood alone on the field,
all drenched in blood.

51. He freed both captives at once —
grief's course is mended;
the hero had no strength
to walk with them.

52. He guides the glad woman by the hand,
the red-gold goddess of the ford;
the high-aged father
he steadied beside her.

53. The man's wounds weary him,
from the blade's cruel edge;
blood welled warmly down —
it reddened the road of battle.

54. With them, the suffering ones
(darkness falls upon the sky then),
he comes home to a humble hut —
the old man and the jewel-goddess.

55. The sweet one washes his red wounds,
the gold-river's flood;
stanched the blood, and healing came
beneath the jewel-fingered lady's care.

56. The birch-maiden spreads the bed of treasures,
with fine garments for the man,
covers the worthy one in soft cloth —
the woman's gentle hands.

57. The old man now comes forward,
disposed to good ways:
bare-headed, he bore in a vessel;
fire glowed upon the wood.

58. Devoutly he chanted over them,
and kindled such fires;
the burning sun's light sang psalms —
special songs, truly.

59. Numa heard what was spoken —
the woman in earnest voice —
then the noble gold-goddess
offered her worship in song:

60. Of the All-Creator she sang
(Orómuz he is called) —
the One who endures, until from their place
all worlds shall fall.

61. Him who loves all men
and has shaped them,
who gives to all of life's likeness
still fortune and power.

62. Of Arimantes she sang,
who frightens good fortune away;
this one cares for nothing
but luring folk to evil.

63. The maiden sang in many a mode,
wisdom-grounded in her speech;
Numa never at any other hour
was more content.

64. After the fair singing rite,
which quickens the senses,
both pray before the fire
and set the vessel aside.

65. The wise old man draws near,
weary with pain;
the courteous maiden of the hand-jewels
sits wakeful by Numa.

66. Offered enough to the gentle one then,
the bright spring of Þundr:
never did he see a fire-rose
more beautiful than hers.

67. The finest blossom the woman bore
upon her steadied, sun-bright brows;
the good soul found her there —
they sat upon gilded chairs.

68. Blossoms graced her cheeks,
the bride no less than new;
red lilies played
beside the white of her complexion.

69. The goddess of the fold to most may seem
to make great beauty;
the heart's gentle smile upon her face
bloomed on blossom-lips.

70. So is the rose in summer-time,
sun-washed in radiance;
the blessed lights of bliss, gentle,
fling forth from reddening blooms;

71. Upon blossom-stalks the petals
gleam throughout the land's meadows;
the winds beside their fragrance
dare not draw a breath;

72. The wise herb fills the path,
all delight lies there,
drinks the sunlight's ember-glow
and the spring's sweet essence.

73. Yet the wise maiden was soft,
not painted, as befits;
her eyes watched, love-sick,
above the beauty of Freya.

74. Numa turns his eyes upon
the mountain-maiden of the field;
O, I know that beside her
sleep hardly befell him.

Þrettánda Ríma — Thirteenth Ríma

Mansöngr — st. 1–13

When storms of sorrow strike,
and the mind is oppressed,
the times seem heavy to bear
for those who endure.

2. When misery bites at close range
and something gives way,
some let the heart be tormented
and their hands drop.

3. Grief grows, and stubborn longing
burdens the mind,
multiplying one small
misfortune many times over.

4. Others lighten their hard temper,
and put courage to use,
despise all that, and seek
another delight.

5. Such men bend their will
against every trouble,
conquer and win over all adversity —
that which we name as such.

6. Though events set our tempers
bristling against us,
there is enough other joy
in many a measure.

7. If wealth or property fail
among ill neighbours,
long we find remedy and bread
among better men.

8. If a woman's conduct
was not as it should be —
let her go; many finer ones
are to be found.

9. It does not do to rail at cruel fate
or to twist the mind;
blessings dwell on the sea,
on heaven, and on earth.

10. Wise and prudent is that one alone,
and never wearied,
who recognises, heart-pure,
the good things in the world.

11. I have little to strengthen the spirit
in thin luck;
it is strange — I am composing
in solitude.

12. Here we spare nothing, as though
nothing could be diminished;
O, that more might find
joy in this!

13. Let no shadow of dread fall
upon the noble's gladness;
let no foul longing draw Siggi
from his sweet temper.

Narrative — st. 14–70

14. Numa stared, moved, in silence
at the young woman;
his heart beat quickly and fast
in his heavy breast.

15. No desire now wounded his soul,
free of sorrow,
as in times past his heart was stirred
by Hersilia.

16. He found joy in his heart,
which banishes all harm;
the woman woke in the worthy man
a true admiration.

17. He goes to seek her news,
eager to hear;
he asks her name,
and more besides.

18. She hastens to answer: "Anaís
the world has called me;
Zoroaster the wise
is my father.

19. "He has taught the heavenly science
to the people of the world —
his, who sends blessings to souls,
so we believe;

20. "His, who guards all that exists
upon wave and field,
whose image the soul perceives
in sun and fire.

21. "Few would believe
my wise father;
from no gentle suffering
he was forced to flee.

22. "Here we have lived eighteen years
in empty valleys;
at last you lighten our trouble
and free us from torment.

23. "You came here, clothed in valour,
just in time —
vile robbers would have
stolen me away.

24. "With tears I must acknowledge
the wise man's debt:
you bear wounds and suffering
for our sake."

25. Numa told the rock-grip's goddess:
"I shall soon have my health
in your hands."

26. After half a month, he,
with faithful remedies,
blessed with grace, dressed himself
and got to his feet.

27. The brand-flinger goes to speak
with the father;
he asks for the gentle one's hand —
the bridge-maiden's garments.

28. The old man speaks: if the two
do not disagree about faith,
"In your power, my gentle friend,
I place my daughter.

29. "Your gods, I know, will lead
the bright woman astray,
and spoil my fair teachings
in a free heart."

30. Wise Numa answers thus:
"Though we marry,
each shall keep their own faith,
and neither be robbed of it."

31. To another topic the old man turns:
"Into a king's hall
the dear one may not come, however."

32. "You shall soon — so I prophesy —
with firm resolve,
crowned with deeds,
win a king's high crown."

33. Numa answers: "Your vain talk
does not hinder me;
the governance of men I shall shun,
though I might seize it."

34. Again the old man guarded his words
and weighed them well:
"On these terms only may you
have the maiden."

35. Before the maiden agrees, however —
the pain-healer —
the battle-storms of Sicily
must be pursued;

36. "While the war rages wildly
upon the field of battle,
I shall wait for you, wherever you wish,
with the glowing goddess."

37. Numa rejoices, embraces the woman
and the gentle father;
then the worthy one spoke
the good oaths solemnly:

38. "While I endure that strife,
away from here in the mists —
let the dear one wait quietly
in the town of Cures meanwhile."

39. The old man readies himself for departure
as quickly as he can;
then the three set out from there
and tire their feet.

40. Cures the champion finds,
the strong one, in the ring of his people;
easy it is for the wise warrior
to win the service of his countrymen.

41. They hide the lady in a small town,
and attend to preparations;
they ready a clean army with zeal
for the meetings of battle.

42. Six thousand — the warrior of rings —
he gathers his men;
in their fists the blue tinder
of the blind halls burned.

43. The army's strength seizes shields
and helms of iron;
in battle, none of the frenzied hearts
shall falter.

44. Numa bids farewell to his dearest lady;
they kiss long;
then the weather of the road
blows on the bold lads.

45. Swift hooves strike the earth's surface,
foot-quick;
the roads steam, the ground thunders
with gravel and stones.

46. Where the horses gallop, snort, and foam,
risking the cliffs,
the road chews the rocks,
and the broad path burned with fire.

47. The horse stamps the earth and beats
with broad hooves;
there it halts — Numa arrives
down at the shore.

48. Leó was there beside the harbour
with his long ships;
swift and eager, he welcomes the band —
the warrior of the sea-shore.

49. Leó bids the men to hasten
the voyage:
"Now we must set everything in motion,
without mercy's pause."

50. The crowd of men does not linger
about that any longer;
the army goes out onto the fair-
decked ships.

51. The barques ride out upon the great flood,
and the journeys increase;
waves buckle, and the bows begin
to creak at the knees.

52. Smoke billowed — tinder against the wonder
of Ægir's foam;
a hundred craft hammered asunder
the ridges of the waves.

53. Raw billows, grey whiskers,
snarled at the prows;
the towering sea made room
with a roar like kings.

54. The wave-wielder rides the crest,
fleeing the breakers;
thunder rumbled, a living serpent
played among the waters.

55. The keel then lies in a swell —
brine at the stern;
the high waves wrap fierce winds
around the field-fences.

56. Long the storms swallowed the cool swells,
the hungry waters;
the throat tightened and the drum bellied,
trampled by the surging sea.

57. So shining Sicily
slides out of the ocean;
fair ships bring them to land,
where the army waits.

58. The lads bind the white sail;
the work is done;
anchor-spears bite the bottom
with sharp teeth.

59. Leó goes in a small boat
to the hiding-cliffs;
now he will scout ahead
and get himself news.

60. He turns his course in a long hide
with a wide hood;
he finds a shepherd on the track
and flings aside the staff.

61. The poor shepherd — a great fright
the monster wakens;
the coward runs off in terror
and begins to babble.

62. With force the hero makes
the wretch know fear,
threatens to crush him
and send him to hell —

63. Unless he tells the true tale
of the island's affairs;
the other says he will gladly
unsnarl this tangle:

64. "Kastor is our king's name,
the great and mighty one;
he has the daring to wield the sword
upon a hardy steed.

65. "He is wealthy, he owns land,
and whatever may happen,
he is half a devil's likeness,
especially when he fights.

66. "All his men are armed
with spear and bow,
evil-natured to deal with —
none dare challenge them.

67. "The king holds a maiden captive,
though she gives him no joy;
in the towering crags
she is made to keep her seat.

68. "Four hundred of the most fierce
armed warriors
guard her strongly on the walls —
winding battle-rings.

69. "The shield-maiden, bright, will not yield
to that king's will;
the stubborn maiden must wait
for gentler times."

70. Leó flung the man of fame aside
and spat those answers out;
then he races down
to his own ships.

Fjórtánda Ríma — Fourteenth Ríma

Mansöngr on winter and poetry; the invasion of Sicily; battle with King Kastor; Kastor slain by Leó's club; Numa fights alone against the army; Leó rescues Numa; four hundred of Kastor's men destroyed.

1.
What may shorten the long strife of time
and stem the tide of grief?
This: to fashion verse, and ease
the storms of sorrow for the people.

2.
Winter binds the earth's fair form,
the supple linden, in its fetters;
the shaking winds rattle the skull-fence,
the corpse-drifts shudder.

3.
When verses across mountains and flood
were carried in finer voices,
nowhere did the people hear good
rímur in a bitter winter.

4.
My counsel is: to sharpen here
the voice and scour the pen;
it goes ill if perhaps I
still have something left to teach.

5.
Let verses fly over wave and road,
let the mead of voices give them life;
let us wake the folk to Óðinn's fire,
let us wet the feather in blood.

6.
Let us wake the lad and the wine-goddess,
let us wake pure images,
let us wake every branch of craft,
let us wake stone and spring.

7.
We scorn silence and longing,
we chant psalms to the dead,
we string high the sound
upon the rímur's blue blade!

8.
To the noblest lords we bring
red arm-rings, a different song-stroke,
such as a good people receive —
manifold praise truly earned.

9.
We ask the fire-god of the marshes
to purify the runes of verse,
to lay out the meagre thread of poems,
and read it with gentle brows.

10.
I may cast aside my mind's longing
where the corpse-shores end:
will not he who owns treasures
scorn the fame of three-lined verse?

11.
Leó urges the voice to song;
he stood outside on the ships,
calling the people to kindle from courage
the broad embers of the keel.

12.
The shield-breakers, sword in hand,
row to land from the deep;
the cool sand of the shore covers
the host in one breath.

13.
Up through the wolf's den they rush;
the eagle wakes its crop there;
the cliffs tremble, tall Etna
begins to blast for battle.

14.
Thunders wake the sheltering shields,
the crash of voices prevails;
Death offers the warriors a journey —
she is eager to pay some in full.

15.
The king who owns the island
sees the war-ships coming;
he lets the tall horns
cry out furiously.

16.
The hosts rush together
in the guise of Hár's warriors,
shields crash where the army
sets the keen blades to work.

17.
It was as though two thunderclaps
pressed their oars together,
the heavy clouds shaking them —
mighty strength straining the frame.

18.
The dark hosts of Sicily pour out
in companies there;
each one bore a serpent-scourge and bow,
and byrnies on their bodies.

19.
Leó on foot drives the host,
the time for fighting is come;
Numa rode, and the strife
feeds itself savagely.

20.
Kastor rode in his chariot-seat,
the shield-stallion sped;
against the grey steed of Grani's cloak,
and Grímnir's sun prevailed.

21.
The tall flames of grey Grani
I saw burn in his grip;
he blasted then with wonder
upon the terror-hailstorm.

22.
Death invited the warriors
to tread the corpse-dance;
the wound-waters sang red,
the dark pressed the slaughter's need.

23.
Leó goes to scatter the host,
bears his club and rages;
each man gives way,
bare shields are shattered.

24.
Asunder he grinds shield and skull,
with cool eyes the while;
many a body suffers the bull's toss,
washed in pools of blood.

25.
Every age trembles beneath
the mail-troll's might;
the field buckles, the hills of kinship
answer the club's blows.

26.
The shield bursts, hard and round,
the skull-weight swells with corpses,
the sword-lord sinks all around,
heaped in mounds of dead.

27.
The hero burned with grief,
toward the torrent of Gǫrmul he pressed;
Death's arms embrace the serpent,
fire pours from every wound.

28.
Kastor saw that tall hero
on the field of battle;
he burst away in rage
from the monstrous heaps.

29.
The foul-skinned one frightens all,
he threatens skulls with harm,
he bathes himself to the belt
in the fording-pools of blood.

30.
Near the king, in the fury,
the thunder of armour peals;
the club strikes so the chariot screams,
cloven asunder.

31.
Before the king fell on the flat road,
the lord managed to ward himself;
he hurled a spear, as the Gaut of lances —
it gaped over the brain-roads.

32.
That dart struck the forehead:
the fire-serpent's timber;
the great one can get no breath,
and falls upon the corpse-ground.

33.
They thought the slayer of that man
was the lord's own kinsman;
the cry of gleaming grief rang out
across the war-halls.

34.
Numa hardens his corpse-journey
in the northern flank;
he cleaves with his sword a crowd of men,
grinds the mail from their bodies.

35.
The famous one waded, to fell the people,
forward in the blood-waves;
he heaped men so the folk fled
before his thundering voice.

36.
Where he is, and the berserker bears down,
the host breaks on the fallen;
then he hears — his foster-brother
has fallen among the slain.

37.
Like a snow-bright lightning-stroke
over the barren field they drive,
he rode then, and the darkness-longing
rained on the grey shields.

38.
He hacks the bloody host
and hews on both sides;
he clears his way in the nail-storm,
a grief-bereft man now.

39.
Many die where the lance gnaws;
warriors are gored with wounds;
those men on the battle-mire
are washed in waves of gore.

40.
The lightning of Óðinn's halls
is tireless at spilling men;
fiercely it burned where he pours out
the flood of the corpse-groves.

41.
The glowing-red ground mourned;
fortune sometimes fails;
the thunder of helms meets the din of shields,
Death swims underneath.

42.
Many see where the troll
crushes the blue giantess then,
squeezing corpses, darkening her brow,
and drinking the raw blood.

43.
She goes over the field with all horror,
the fallen swell the evil;
a brave folk must weep
against the edge-song of that troll.

44.
Numa goes where the lord is,
the fury brings them together;
the host thrashes to his side,
the war-shield bristles in the press.

45.
The king hurls his spear at him,
the dart-bearer's arm hardens;
the hero catches the shaft;
his reward is the blow.

46.
Numa swings the hawk's perch,
the broad red blade,
slices the shield, and in the same stroke
wounds the king's thigh.

47.
A second blow the hero raised
with grim strength in return:
the edge from the body bit the arm —
clean off, in one swift stroke.

48.
Then with a loud voice the lord calls:
"Let the host flee from this man!"
They release Numa and let him go,
for that one is mighty.

49.
The berserker tires and grows weary,
shattering warriors still;
a great host upon the weapon-field —
too many to withstand.

50.
Alone he strikes, wonder-near,
and washes his arms in blood,
his beloved host is far away;
the hero is wounded and furious.

51.
The battle-rush was bitter there;
the warrior barely saves himself;
the sword held, but his shield
was broken to pieces.

52.
Among the slain, in the weapon-din,
he comes to his senses, unbroken —
Leó with his deep wounds
is awakened anew.

53.
He sees Numa in dire need;
the quarrel has grown fierce;
he bears the club and begins to break
the whole skulls of the warriors.

54.
Like straw, battered and yielding,
they pass into the cold of death;
corpse-heads are flayed from their holders,
the skin-armoured one shakes his shields.

55.
The king sees him now beside the host,
one-handed as he is;
he goes where the hatred cuts,
he wishes him dead.

56.
The wise one's strength did not fail,
he thought to finish the work:
the lord's skull's whole dome —
the skull-fragments fly.

57.
The king, the corpse-near one, falls;
doom torments the fool;
Death then glanced this way
and hanged the stubborn lord.

58.
Every man before him falls,
flayed by bare cords;
the whole host turns to flee;
each would save himself now.

59.
They had found the sleep of death,
the lords of the snow-hand;
after the slaughter, on the ground
twelve hundred men remained.

60.
Few of the living are to be seen:
Leó and Numa together —
they have four hundred then;
the fettered frost darkens their brows.

61.
The weapon-bearers, spent of strength,
bear weariness enough;
but the king's host, which is broken,
scatters into the forests.

Fimtánda Ríma — Fifteenth Ríma

Mansöngr on peace and war; Leó and Numa pursue the mountaineers; the rescue of Kamilla; the shield-maiden fights; Numa weds Leó and Kamilla; the voyage home; farewell and the parting of ways.

1.
Good fortune with peace it is
that warms the breast's embrace;
war robs honour and happiness,
and wakens bitter harm.

2.
As on a calm lake the linden lies,
the stillness spreads its cloth;
no wind is able to breathe,
and so there is no weariness.

3.
Then from the high seat of heaven
the sun clears a path of warmth,
and combs her gold-cloaked hair
down into the earth's hands.

4.
Over all the fields the gentle foot-sole
treads alike across the world,
to every blade on every patch
the unforgetting one gives care.

5.
The meadows glow, the mountains gleam,
gilded streams flow;
the flat-bellied earth
spreads wide her arms.

6.
All created things, land and sea,
praise their happiness,
drink the breath of bliss,
and revive, and grow warm.

7.
All roots awaken,
bear growth and fruit;
this I call most like Peace —
the Calm may stand for it.

8.
There is nothing of War's terrors
that we can lightly compare:
it eats the hurt of land and folk,
of life, and of the realms of kings.

9.
As though the blue mountains shattered,
spewing cursed fire,
and the earth's bowels all convulsed
up through the dome of clouds.

10.
The high terror frightens all,
it crashes down on strongholds,
upon green fields and ploughland
it rains down heaps of ash.

11.
It drives away all rest,
stifles peace and happiness,
devours the land, the air, the sea —
no shelter gives it life.

12.
So bloody wars torment
wherever they rage —
they murder and debase, raging mad,
everything that lives.

13.
Neither peace nor war
can be driven away for ever;
we shall honour the fair works,
but never praise the wicked.

14.
Leó leaves the dart-storm's edge,
Numa follows him,
and that host which still remains
up toward the blue mountains.

15.
So the deep-dragged giant
presses from the ocean's floor,
dark, he swells his blue body,
he would tread upon the crags;

16.
He tilts his brows from the wise one,
terribly huge,
and belts the folk about him,
and from them grows greater;

17.
Then he crashes the blue cliffs,
the raging monster gives way,
and pours out strength
from what he has gathered.

18.
So Leó makes his way forward
with his own people;
he meets the mountain-folk's host
and pours battle over them.

19.
Those men seize their fury,
blades shake wildly;
the cliffs groan underneath,
the berserker sounds ring out.

20.
The dart-stiffened meetings rage,
the eager slaves of war cry out;
the wounds swim in blood,
the cold mask screams in frost.

21.
Óðinn's slaughter-carpets break
wherever the war-host treads;
the field was red with blood,
the corpse-voices fill the air.

22.
Leó torments the tall wretches;
the man-pale warrior
hewed into straw everything he found,
and ground the skulls to powder.

23.
The mountain-folk flung stones
wildly at the host;
yet blood poured as a river runs,
they stood firm against it.

24.
Whoever comes close to Numa
must wait for the hour of need;
the giants fall wherever he strikes;
the host shrinks away.

25.
He hacks men like soft snow,
swings the blade in fury;
from the mountain's brow above,
rivers run with blood.

26.
Leó goes into the mountain-hold,
bears his club in hand;
he sees the bride — she sat upon a seat,
wrapped in bonds.

27.
The god of spears freed the dart-woman
and bade her look to the escape;
the maiden asks, fierce in grief,
for a man to lend her a sword.

28.
Out, as hard as the maiden and the lad
could fight, around the yard they press;
Numa holds alone there still,
and his hardy men.

29.
The mountain-folk were falling;
most rushed into the fight;
but at the edge of blades
eighty still stood.

30.
Now the storm was made for the warriors,
swords flay the shields;
the fair shield-maiden out through the door
went riding likewise.

31.
The young woman strings the blades;
though the arrows gleam,
the maiden at this meeting
was the death of three men.

32.
The heroes of the bold-ruled field
wage battle like the frenzied;
all were crushed there —
none would flee.

33.
Death spanned many men though;
they lost the greater part of theirs;
a hundred men still remained,
the best of friends.

34.
Dead bodies in heaps
blocked the road now;
of the dark-red gore
Óðinn's field was drenched.

35.
So shall the weary rest there,
the host, caught as prisoners;
the ring-goddess and the heroes
walk swiftly to the ships.

36.
The warm arms of the women embrace
the greatest of weapon-lords;
now the maiden and the man shall be wed,
and Numa be the priest.

37.
All the rites the noble one
has known from youth:
he sacrificed then for blessings
with two white lambs.

38.
He read and chanted as was fit,
pitched the melody high,
but the wedding of the couple
is not entered in this tale.

39.
The anchors are wound up from the sea,
the wave-god beats the timbers;
the sails are bound to the yards,
the sheets hauled down.

40.
The breeze makes fair of foul,
drawing the bold waves onward;
the supple tiller steers the ship,
the current begins to suck.

41.
The old one mends his furrowed brows,
luck's sorrow never fading;
the blue-wave garments of the deep
draw all into wrinkles.

42.
The keel upon the billows then
swells and heaves itself;
it spits foam and spray,
drawing heavy breath.

43.
The rolling combers goad the ship,
which must run before them;
many a great wave the hull rode,
battered on both cheeks.

44.
Ropes strain, the hold pitches,
the ship is driven fearless;
sails bend and belly full,
the wave-trampled belly.

45.
Wind-laden clouds shiver;
their bright sheets are flung away;
the ship bathes its breast
in the blood of the sea-goddess.

46.
The rails crack, the test is hard,
the reef-lines flap and droop;
the stone-packed heavy cloths
are bowed until they sag.

47.
The giant of wind shakes his claws,
the hull pitches wildly;
the waves hurl the vessels forward
and scatter in shapelessness.

48.
The children of the Nile make uproar,
every joint shudders;
the sea swells, but the land dries —
this brings them toward shore.

49.
Rán and Ægir fall silent then,
the grey hair of the deep subsides;
the bold men moor the ship
upon the calm and lovely bay.

50.
The people go upon the land;
Leó then to Numa speaks,
the fair one, and composes
a swift parting-verse:

51.
"Our roads part here,
by the broad stones of the bay,
unless you would come with me
and build a home in the valleys.

52.
"My wish draws me there,
and there to live and die,
for I never again intend
to wage another war."

53.
"Far from the restless folk,
life's blessings shine,
there through the good time of fortune
I will worship my God."

54.
Leó looked toward Kamilla,
gazed fondly on the woman;
what she wills the hero knows not;
but then she spoke:

55.
"My own true wish is this,
my friend, if you agree:
that you shall never abandon
Numa again.

56.
"We shall build two homesteads,
for both pairs of spouses;
think to settle our lives,
and all restlessness end."

57.
"I shall clothe myself in the shield-maiden's garments,
and warm myself in prayer,
and enjoy the ample goods there
in the arms of nature."

58.
Leó thanks the woman sweetly
for those fine words;
he offers Numa with gentle grace
his brotherly hand.

59.
"Wherever our lives are spent,"
(so he boldly declared),
"we shall walk the path of friends,
and never part."

60.
Both woman and man embraced
with fair words for Numa;
so from the flood-hall's path
they part upon the earth.

61.
The reed-warriors hurry on,
the long mountain-road,
Numa ever ahead,
the couple walking behind.

Sextánda Ríma — Sixteenth Ríma

Mansöngr to Iðunn and the women of Iceland; Numa returns to Anaís; Zoroaster performs the wedding; the murder of Romulus; civil war in Rome; Hersilia driven out; the elders choose Numa as king; Zoroaster's ultimatum; the ghost of King Tasi; Numa accepts the crown.

1.
Wake always over my songs,
Iðunn, the chanting's sound,
and with your pure melody
prevent the crush of words.

2.
Wake courage in my feeble mind,
wisdom, strength, and daring;
let our children play
in your cradle!

3.
Who now upon the roof-beams of thanks
will cheer his praise
and offer the fair-clad women
the best in my place?

4.
That they grow weary of me, I know,
enough of hardship — and so,
in the nest of Hræsvelgur I write,
I compose the metre anew.

5.
Many a reddening maiden listened
to my verse without grief,
and never scorned my praise,
exceedingly gracious.

6.
With the force of words in bitter conflict,
upon my own ground,
I sang labour and pain from the gentle
Moon-goddesses then.

7.
When the sea-sun sank to rest,
the willow dwelt near me,
the sorrow died and the senses lightened;
at last they laughed.

8.
So it is still in later days
that I bother to sit here,
wave the pen and mend the verses —
it is for the sake of women.

9.
Still to the goddesses of serpent-clay
I gladly offer here;
but Iðunn must not hear that,
and so we leave it.

10.
Most of all the tender nights
are kind to me, homeward on the elf-road;
when sleep lets me nearly drift,
the gentle women are everywhere.

11.
Across the snow-land, fair of face,
still waking here,
my raven of the heart wanders wide,
a shape-shifting wanderer.

12.
Would not even one, I wonder, from there,
from the ice-lands' step,
have the strength to sing across the strait
one moment's song for me?

13.
Numa goes ahead of the others;
something draws him forward —
he sees himself expecting friends;
that much I understand well.

14.
At Cures he finds the dear one's halls,
the keen hero, in haste;
he goes inside to meet the woman:
how fast they kiss!

15.
Arms bind around the provident one,
the ember of the linden's goddess;
who would paint the full power of bliss
that they felt then?

16.
I would rather hold the reckless one —
the one whose love-speech falters —
for to paint fire with fire,
or soul with soul, is no help.

17.
Leó comes and the fair woman too,
the joy they feel is rare;
greetings gentle and warm
are exchanged by all.

18.
After those blissful meetings
the people make their journey;
the elves ride the ember of the bay
to one fair valley.

19.
Two small cottages the dwellers build,
bridged by a stream;
the restlessness they think to end,
and all their wanderings.

20.
When the homes are built
and trust well placed,
the fair maiden now shall be wed,
and Numa turn to it.

21.
The wisest, gentle-hearted one,
who hates the stain of vice —
Zoroaster wished to consecrate
the dearest wife and husband.

22.
While he composes his address,
giving time for blessings,
our poem's subject
leads us into glittering Rome.

23.
The lord in his ring of Gauta-cloaks
sits on his high-seat throne,
good in honour but not in goodness —
the lord holds the assembly.

24.
Long the warriors listen to Romulus's words,
the hard men there;
the spear-slinger awaits the night;
heavy was the people's grief.

25.
He is run through, the self-willed lord,
by the daring spear then;
taken by death, robbed of blessings;
the blue wound-river flows.

26.
He who built his brother's tomb in blood,
with blood upon his hands,
and murdered Tasi's high-praised honour —
his own road now declines.

27.
Wise men hide the crime,
the foul deed then;
who struck the lord down —
no one can know.

28.
They spun a story together, new,
those clever neighbours then:
that he was taken up to the heaven-gods,
lifted from the hall.

29.
Quirínius he shall be called
upon the heaven-clouds;
for he may grant Rome protection
if the weapons' storm is longed for.

30.
Heavy quarrels waken then,
of crushing need;
who shall inherit the seat of wealth
after the land's keeper?

31.
Hersilia is placed upon the throne,
given a bright new dignity,
but she must flee, afraid, at last,
driven out of the city.

32.
The fiercest quarrel of Óðinn's swans,
the dark wheel of night;
the swords are wetted on the green,
and some meet death.

33.
Hosts come here in companies
to the weapon-assembly;
the Sabines shake Óðinn's rock,
and strike at Rome.

34.
Through the dark night, villainously,
the dart-thunder grows;
the grim folk are mad to fight;
the terrible battle begins.

35.
Blood is poured across the wide field,
upon the war-roads;
the folk fall where the strong contend;
the fury rises high.

36.
Armour-fences ring, the helm yields,
the white-blade's rail is shorn;
the swords clang in the deep of night,
the earth shudders.

37.
The hard host wakes the battle-stroke
until the day broke;
the heavy corpse-ground covers the field,
the people found grief.

38.
Among the warriors, the elders then —
seeing the land's disorder —
went to make peace, as peace-lovers;
the dart-storm halts.

39.
One alone asks the heroes to listen,
a light through the smoke:
"Numa, the descendant of Pompíll,
we name as King."

40.
All consent and accept it,
wishing to obey;
they let the gentle leaf fall,
and seek the sheaths of swords.

41.
Over the broad road of blood
the evil subsides;
all cry out: "Hail to Numa!
let fortune crown that man!"

42.
Now there is no injustice,
the host agrees as one;
a messenger is found
to seek the lord's dwelling.

43.
He holds his course toward Cures;
he asks about the hero there;
the trusty one with swift journeys
learns where the lord's son was.

44.
The man finds the warrior
in the fair shelter of the mountains;
that evening he shall keep
the dear one, the sun of the linden.

45.
Deep he bowed, the keeper of the gleam,
and thus he spoke:
"Hail to you," he says, "lord of Rome!
with the praise of all."

46.
All that had happened he told him truly,
eagerly to that man;
and Numa for his part was silent,
then he answered thus:

47.
"Though the warriors woo me with favour,
whatever has happened,
I will not obey your power,
nor go from here.

48.
"The mountain-shelter I find fairer
and more precious than there;
for the dignity of the throne I care
not at all; tell them that from me."

49.
Most humbly the man departs,
sending the messenger back;
but Zoroaster begins to speak,
and turns to Numa thus:

50.
"Your duty, Numa, nearest now
(this is where fate leads us) —
to gentle the battle-maddened folk
and send them peace.

51.
"Your love stains your judgement,
and heed well:
my daughter and her love
are denied to you.

52.
"If you do not take upon you
the beloved lord's raiment,
you are guilty, and never
shall the bride be won.

53.
"Of this be certain, noble hero —
(hear me once in this) —
Anaís into the realm of Rome
will never come."

54.
The hero's peace was broken,
his grief consumed the hour!
Numa raged — then later
he fell into uneasy sleep.

55.
Numa wakes and dresses,
in greatest haste;
he ever misses the woman's goodness,
and Zoroaster with her.

56.
Leó the bold sets his feet going,
and the other too, as he can;
all day they are searching,
and find nothing then.

57.
They rest the night in a warm grove,
upon the head-grass;
swiftly then in sleep he finds
the vision of King Tasi.

58.
Drenched in blood through the temple-halls,
the noble dweller stands;
he began in fury to speak:
"Now you shall hear me.

59.
"If you do not go to Rome
and obey the high wish,
I must bear the heavy doom
of anguish on your account.

60.
"If you take the seat of the powerful,
then I shall be freed;
and you shall be the greatest of lords,
honoured among the gods."

61.
Numa half relented,
standing as though stunned;
he looked behind him — all bloody,
the lord was gone.

62.
He wakes his dear friends,
for the light was shining;
and explains his noble purpose,
the crimson of Gínar's sea:

63.
"Follow the throne of glory
with me, famous warriors!
I am the lord of the Roman realm,
as rightly chosen."

Seytjánda Ríma — Seventeenth Ríma

Mansöngr on the nature of poetry — the rímur-poet vs. the true poet; Numa arrives in Rome; the coronation; the sacrifices; the people's acclaim; Numa begins his reign of peace; Leó commands the army; the nymph Egeria at the spring; Numa writes laws.

1.
Shall I be allowed to speak a little about Poets,
since I am toiling at
the unrewarding craft?

2.
The name itself men can scarcely master,
for to compose rímur rightly
as the rule requires —

3.
Skill in words, and long practice,
gives this good art,
though perhaps few can teach it.

4.
Words and thoughts all from the books of others,
when they are set in printed pages —
such men always need few of those.

5.
It is the same with the translation of poems,
if one knows both languages;
this is what the rímur-poet does.

6.
But the one who is a Poet creates, begets, paints
images in his mind
that we never knew before.

7.
He who sees with the keen blaze of sight
through the hidden workings of a man's mind,
and the high learning of the Creator.

8.
He has the whole world in his keeping,
dwells on earth, in heaven, and at sea,
yet fastens his shelter nowhere.

9.
He scorns and mocks the proud fool,
is humble and meek himself,
and has swiftly set things right.

10.
He comes gladly into the poor man's hovel,
dries the needy person's tears,
though he himself has no wealth.

11.
He can steal into the hearts of the rich,
demand the oppressed man's bread,
and so lighten his need.

12.
Bravely he faces his own faults,
so he comes, bowed and crestfallen,
before the sharp judge.

13.
He lifts himself up to the hall of heaven;
from the purest light of the Creator,
his eyes catch a gleam.

14.
The perfect Poet commands all this;
but it is certain that we find few
who possess that full power.

15.
None perhaps exists, nor has existed,
upon our mother-earth,
who may be called a true Poet.

16.
I place myself among the rímur-poets,
for I can only do as they do:
knead together eagle-clay.

17.
I can also turn the verse of others,
from the languages of nations that I know,
and many reach for that too.

18.
But when I would handle my own creations
and forge the true poet's speech,
I lack both head and soul.

19.
King Numa with his finest men
holds his road homeward to Rome,
though his heart grieved in secret.

20.
A multitude of wagons and the mightiest lords
come to meet the king;
he takes his seat upon the gilded chariot.

21.
Trumpets and bells ring with splendour;
horses stamp the dusty road;
the hero meets the oncoming folk.

22.
The woman of Óðinn, red-cheeked and fair,
then wounds his face —
beside the broad-ankled horses.

23.
The lord of Rome rides home in honour,
comes to the Capitolium,
and ascends to the king's seat.

24.
He began his speech: "Hear, brothers, friends!
my high words and solemn oath
that I declare this once.

25.
"O you, exalted gods of the highest good!
Grant me counsel and wisdom,
so that I may rule this land well.

26.
"If there be anyone now before our eyes
more worthy, then choose that man,
and point us toward him.

27.
"If there be none, I shall gladly bow
my own will to yours,
and the King so declares himself.

28.
"That I may foster this good people
with virtue, goodness, plenty, and peace —
grant me that, exalted gods."

29.
Then the lord took the high seat;
his head now bore the crown,
around it the sun flowed in fire.

30.
In the glorious raiment of honour
he was wrapped in the embers of Uðr,
the king was attended.

31.
The high sceptre of power
is held by the guardians,
upon its top, uppermost,
sat golden-cast eagles.

32.
Four well-shaped eagles
bathed their wings;
from them down below
the shining lights gleamed.

33.
Now the priests have the greatest work;
they sacrifice oxen then,
and the little lambs do not escape.

34.
They inspect the innards as is custom;
the people stand by them
observing the wisest silence.

35.
Until the priests compose themselves to speak,
prophesying the greatest fortune,
and the best of years from here onward.

36.
The eager folk in one voice sings
this song of praise:
"Long live the good King!"

37.
"Numa live! Let Numa be clothed in fortune,
highest over the field of the land!
May his power never shake!"

38.
The grateful, generous lord thanks the host,
then went home to his chambers,
where repose and treasure await him.

39.
From the deep stores, among the poor folk
(good mildness he values),
he sifted the Fróði-meal of plenty.

40.
Once the glorious lord of fires,
the ruler, alone through the city,
with no companion walked into Egeria's grove.

41.
His spirits lightened; through the winding forests,
the evening-breeze stirred;
by the oaks he played.

42.
The birds' pure voices sang forever,
fluttering among the branches,
testing the strength of little wings.

43.
The young ones in flocks sang verses,
the elders perched upon the boughs,
choosing the gentle sleep.

44.
Long Numa walked through the fair grove;
remembering the past days,
the hero's memories were stirred.

45.
A spring there he sees, the lord of darts;
thirsty for the pure water,
weary he went to its brink.

46.
In the tall grove he hears, the lord,
beside the bubbling well,
a voice resound and speak:

47.
"You mortal, why will you grieve
and sip my pure spring?
Foul sin's evil works the harm."

48.
Numa halts at once; his riddle is
that among the small bushes
the high goddesses dwell.

49.
The lord says: "I did not know
who owns this water, good goddess!
I might have taken a draft."

50.
The voice answers: "I give you leave
to drink deep of the water;
but know that gods dwell here.

51.
"Egeria is my free name;
has your memory perhaps failed —
you saw me once in a dream."

52.
The lord bows low and sweetly prays:
"Since my memory of you has not faded,
your image, O good goddess, is mine.

53.
"Grant that I may see with my eyes
your high likeness still,
finest of goddesses!

54.
"Give me counsel with glory and honour to rule
the shining land, O goddess,
this realm you have given me."

55.
The goddess says: "See me you may not;
but when trouble presses,
come here and ask.

56.
"I shall guard the lord's power from harm,
answer the highest ruler always;
and now go home."

57.
The lord of the highest thrones went home;
this journey pleased him better;
from it he gains finer counsel.

58.
Every evening the lord keeps the custom
of walking to the spring;
from there he carries the counsels of power.

59.
From those counsels he wrote eight books
of both laws and the learning
that was much practised in the lands.

60.
So the blessed times of peace passed;
the king, who hated war,
waited patiently at home.

61.
So joy and peace play in his spirit;
the lord sets the land's defences,
Leó commands the army.

62.
He rules most of the warriors and the peoples,
lets the land be ploughed and sown,
and fortune's ways are guarded then.

63.
Shall he have peace from here on in?
I hardly think so —
we shall see the customs change abruptly.

Átjánda Ríma — Eighteenth Ríma

Mansöngr — farewell from Greenland; Hersilia raises the Marsians and Campanians; the burning of Cures; the siege of Rome; Numa discovers the divine shield is lost; Leó's night raid across the Tiber; the recovery of the shield; the dawn and the end.

1.
Earth and sea begin to warm;
let us try to bring
the noble ember of Gínar's gold —
my work, as it was promised.

2.
Gladly would I entertain
the powerful one, whose verses shine,
that mild lord of treasures
who most loves the craft of verse.

3.
Let the verses fly from the mountaintops,
the finished poem released;
over the blue waves of the spring
let the winds lend their power.

4.
Let the page fly through Bólmur's wild seas,
it cannot rest before
it lands at Stykkishólmur,
on the strait-roads high.

5.
I know the keeper of the sea-sun
honours the tones;
the quick swan of verse
folds his feathers there.

6.
Therefore I must tell all here —
the metre I must follow;
let the old tales ring out —
the mountains of Greenland, comfort me!

7.
So that homeward, in the dwelling
of my clever friends,
the gold of the harp shall be heard,
and the cliffs echo long.

8.
I shall urge the blue mountains
to boom with hollow voice,
so they lend me their aid —
the tall mountains of both lands.

9.
All my breath-thin speech,
if so it could be taken,
by air, and field, and ploughland,
would become one chorus.

10.
The singing-strings I try to fasten
between the mountain-peaks,
and sit upon them myself,
and sweep the singing bow.

11.
I shall lash at them then
with the dense rhythm-blows,
until with splendour over the deep
I sing myself home at last.

12.
Here shall I begin the new chapter
and take leave of friends,
and stir the hot Gná of the honey-river —
and remember Hersilia.

13.
She was driven from the realm,
angry, and fled from there,
and broods on fiercer revenge —
the grim serpent of the dragon.

14.
She heard the news, the cloaked goddess,
from out the Roman realm,
that upon the throne of the dark lord
Numa now was set.

15.
Her hatred soured her heart;
she spared nothing;
she dragged herself upon her legs
and won back the land.

16.
She found the famed Marsian folk —
the fair one, and begged their help:
to raise the war against that lord
who had won her right of birth.

17.
Alor the strong is still there,
shown already in the poem;
he would polish the shields
and follow her banner keenly.

18.
The maiden's beauty urges him;
she accepts nothing less;
the love-struck champion
she can lead down the road.

19.
The proud Marsian people then
follow the cloaked goddess;
with the dear one and her heroes
she reaches the land of Campania.

20.
The lord's son there, a worthy man,
Myron was his name,
skilled with the white steel,
a swift-counselled leader of hosts.

21.
He gazed upon the bright Gná of the bay,
the moon of the wave-groves,
and went with his host, bold,
into the high storm of war.

22.
From there two peoples hasten,
the thick company grows;
fair of aspect, the island-lady
comes near the Antemnatan settlements.

23.
She wins that people likewise
with gentle words;
the red shore-fields
make good battle-line.

24.
Those peoples send their warriors,
fair brother-nations,
skilled in the storm of swords —
Viktor their name, and Adrían.

25.
From here onward the host
comes bearing gleaming shields;
the cliffs shudder beneath them;
the horns blast for battle.

26.
The woman bade nothing be spared,
but all ruined and murdered;
the host comes to the town of Cures;
they set fire to the dwellings.

27.
Most wondrous of all was the fire,
raging terribly;
two thousand houses there
the flames would devour.

28.
All burned in one blaze,
awfully tall;
who will remember in this world
such a conflagration?

29.
No, no — the terror of the flames
was not a house-fire;
it was the hellish embers
that swallowed the world's vault.

30.
The red fire-monsters
thrust tongues into their grey mouths;
they flung sparks from the tall dome,
they licked the naked sky.

31.
Beside the hateful fires there
were horrid things to see —
strange shapes appeared,
and the black kindred of the Death-shore.

32.
When the fire's glow was spent,
the peaceless ones murdered;
broad spears kindled the sound,
women and children and men died.

33.
The ugly host moves from there
toward the city of Rome;
they pitch their tents by the Tiber,
and warships stand guard.

34.
King Numa sees now where
the host clothes the field;
Leó, used to gleaming shields,
stood close to him.

35.
He asked counsel of the famous man,
the lord wrapped in wisdom;
and Leó told him the truth:
he prophesied nothing good.

36.
For the divine shield of Ansílés,
once sent down from the heights,
was kept by the keeper of Gerðr's treasure;
the king breathed cold.

37.
And so he speaks: "I have earned my wages —
the reward of my forgetfulness and folly;
for whoever bears that blessed shield
wins victory in every age."

38.
Leó says: "Let us be quiet,
and make the host ready for battle;
the valley-maiden tonight —
the weapon-hay — foul weather falls.

39.
"First let us take what we can get:
wine and fine fare;
when the weapon-thirst grows,
we shall see who bears the shield."

40.
Black Night wraps her cloak
over the sun's hill;
the elves span their way at that hour,
all walking toward sleep.

41.
Leó seizes a sword and goes;
he knew the swimming-art well;
across the Tiber's flood he goes,
cleaving the currents here.

42.
All sleep sweetly in peace;
he sees the war-garments;
between the trusty tents though,
the moon struck with an overflow of light.

43.
The man waited and whispered:
"Moon, you shining one!
Shine less brightly tonight!
In grace let the host rest well!

44.
"No god have I asked before;
so grant me your aid!"
The new moon at that word
slipped behind a dark cloud.

45.
When the dark cloud had swallowed it,
the dizzy moon was gone;
the bold, hot warrior
entered Hersilia's tent.

46.
The darkness of the deep is here;
the shield cannot be seen;
the burning warrior then
asks the moon to lend its light.

47.
Just as the warrior spoke his prayer,
the moon showed its brows;
the bright-white waves of light
poured down upon the shield.

48.
He seizes it; hurries to flee,
the journey nicked by swords;
the watchmen, who are waking here,
see where he goes.

49.
Thirty warriors attack the man,
the keen ones whet their blades;
the stiff blows he chose among them —
the bold hero.

50.
He strikes with wonder at the metal,
the famous thunder blazes;
he splits asunder skull and helm,
the bloody blade laughs in his hands.

51.
The bold one spares not a single one,
the veins bleed and flood;
fierce with his spear he fells the men,
but more are woken by the noise.

52.
A great company of men comes then
against the keen one;
he fights them at his heels,
but cleaves their blue skulls whole.

53.
He retreats, but even so
deals wounds at every stroke;
the steadfast warrior then
comes upon the Tiber's bank.

54.
There for a time he makes his stand,
slowing his pace a little;
the hard one hacks the host,
and withstands most of them.

55.
The raw skulls fly
from the shoulders in haste;
he sows the field with the folk,
his blade swallows many a corpse.

56.
He tires at last of the sun's game,
of felling more men;
he gripped the art of honour's way:
sword in his teeth and shield at his side.

57.
He seized four in his hands —
warriors who would press him —
like a helmsman thrown overboard,
he plunged into the dark deep.

58.
The river's flood he swam across,
the breaker of shields;
whether those four lived,
I will write them out of the world.

59.
Home with the shield he held his way;
he wakes the sleeping lord;
the lord received it from his hand,
and tells all the battle.

60.
The mighty king, strong in frame and spirit,
spoke, and said:
"No equal have you ever had,
who dares such deeds."

61.
Light plays over the fields;
the trumpets wake the sound;
the glittering lake gleams here —
the Battle-day has dawned.

Colophon

Rímur af Núma kóngi Pompilssyni ("Rímur of King Numa, Son of Pompíll") by Sigurður Breiðfjörð (1798–1846). Composed in Greenland, published Copenhagen, 1835. Eighteen rímur, approximately 1, stanzas.

All eighteen rímur translated by the New Tianmu Anglican Church (NTAC + Claude), March 2026. Gospel register. Translated from 19th-century Icelandic. Source text from Icelandic Wikisource (is.wikisource.org), based on the 1835 Copenhagen first edition.

This is the first known complete English translation.

Scribal note: Sigurður Breiðfjörð was born in Breiðafjörður, Iceland, and spent much of his adult life in Greenland as a trader and fisherman. His Núma rímur were an immediate sensation — the first rímur cycle to take a classical historical subject instead of the usual saga or romance material. In his preface, Breiðfjörð argued that Icelandic poets should abandon troll-stories and Edda-clichés in favour of subjects worthy of an enlightened age. Numa Pompilius — the philosopher-king who gave Rome its religion, its calendar, and forty years of peace — was his answer. The poem was beloved from the moment of publication and remains the single most famous rímur cycle of the modern period. Approximately 1, stanzas across eighteen rímur.

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Source Text — Fyrsta Ríma

Líd þú nidur um ljósa-haf, litud hvíta skrúdi, kjærust Idun! oss þig gaf, Alfadir ad Brúdi.

2. Módir stefja minna hlý, mjúklynd, føgur sýnum, lát mig vefjast innaní, arma-løgum þínum.

3. Andleg gétin ockar kyns, afqvæmin sem fóstrum, lát þú eta ódáins-epli af þínum brjóstum.

4. Fyrst þú átt þau eplin há, sem ellibelgnum fleygja, æi! láttu ecki þá, úngana mína deya.

5. Skuld óborna mjaka má, mér ad heljar rockrum, en ei vil eg Nornin nídist á, nidjunum, Idun! ockrum.

6. Kom nú, háa heillin mín! hugann sjúka ad styrkja, himnesk ljá mér hljódin þín, hætti mjúka ad yrkja.

7. Fyltu blessud brjóstid nú, birtu hugarsjónar, sérhvørt vessid signir þú, sem vor harpa tónar.

8. Vini orum, Idun! þá, sem edlid prýdir spaka, bera þorum børnin smá, og bidja hann vid ad taka.

9. Þótt einmana þrokum hér, þeim hjá Grænlands sonum, ljódfuglana látum vér, leika í átthøgonum.

10. Vega skil mín ódfleyg ønd, eingin þarf ad géra, þegar eg vil, er hægt um hønd, heima á Fróni’ ad vera.

11. Fuglinn drjúgum frái sá, faldi skýja undir, sudur fljúga á nú á, Italíu grundir.

12. Og svo þadan óhikad, Islands heim til bragna, segja hvad í hvørjum stad, helst til beri sagna.

13. Vinur hái Velborinn, á voldugum stóli sala, hrektu ei frá þér fuglinn minn, sem fyrir þig vill gala.

14. Albygd vóru — um þad skrár, eru í vorum høndum — herød stór á øldum ár, í Italíu løndum.

15. Þar sem liggja løndin tóm, og Latsíu grundir skína, fóru ad byggja fyrstir Róm, á fjallinu Palatína.

16. Rómulur og Remur tveir, sem ritin brædur géra, Martis burir mundu þeir, mágar Prócass vera.

17. Borgum øllum Róm í rún, reiknast stærri af seggjum; á sjø fjøllum háum hún, til himins lyptir veggjum.

18. Borgin ádur búin var, blóma og heidur firdur, eptir rádum Rómular, Remur deydi myrdur.

19. Hinn, sem efna blódugt bad, bródur réd og pínu, hann lét nefna háan stad, heiti eptir sínu.

20. Borgar meingi í orustum ært, einatt verid hefur, þeirra einginn kynid kært, qvenna armi vefur.

21. Þad var skadi, í þessum stad, því fanst eingin kona! meinid þid hvad, ad þessir þad, þoli leingi svona?

22. Nú skal ødru fólki frá, frásøgn géra nýa: Latsíu jødrum liggur hjá, landid Sabinía.

23. Kóngur Tasi høldum hjá, hefur stjórnar gætur, hlífa þrasi hvørgi sá, hrøckvast fyrir lætur.

24. Hann nam varast vanda og stríd, á velli fyrst uppskéra, ad forsvara land og lýd, lét sér ant um vera;

25. Dygdir metur heidur hann, heillum gæddur fínum; þjódin betur eingin ann, ástum kóngi sínum.

26. Hilmi jafn ad heidri er, hollur bródur nidur, Pompíls nafn sá budli ber, bardaga reyndur vidur.

27. Hernum stýrir hann og ver, haudur, dýrum brandi, fjandmenn rýrir fyrir sér, svo fridurinn býr í landi.

28. Atti dýa røduls rán, reigin tíginn sjóli, Pompilía heitir hún, hjúpud orma bóli.

29. Astin hlý vard af því sár, ángrast bædi vidur, lidin tíu eru ár, ei þeim fædist nidur.

30. Gøfgudu marga Gudi þá, gumnar fræddir midur, til heilla og bjarga hétu á, hvørn þar átti vidur.

31. Trúnad manna mestan bar, (því markir vóru í standi), Sádgydjan hún Seres þar, í Sabiníu landi.

32. Hennar stendur hofid skreytt, þar hefjast skógar grænir, eikur hendur hafa breidt, hússins yfir mænir.

33. Mikill Presta þorri þar, þjónkun gydju veitir, tignar mestur talinn var, Tullur sá sem heitir.

34. Pompilía fundid fær, frømud Presta og bidur, fornir drýgja fyrir mær, svo frjófgist henni qvidur.

35. Skrúda hjúpast hann vid þad, hér til fús ad stydja, bædi krjúpa í einhug ad, altarinu og bidja.

36. Þannig Frúin: „heiløg há, himnesk dísin besta, sjá þú nú mér aumur á, allt mig þikir bresta.

37. Medan eg ei fyrir mannval best, módir fæ ad vera, á øllu feigin ødru brest, eg vil gódu bera.

38. Ef miskun hneigir mér og hal, møg svo géta kunni, þó eg deyi eg þacka skal, þér í fædíngunni.

39. Sonur ef þá audnast mér, eru kostir gódir, hann eg géf og helga þér, honum vert þú módir!“

40. Þannig bad hún þrátt og títt, þessi greidist vandi, eptir þad sig fljódid frítt, finnur barnshafandi.

41. Gledin blída hjørtun há, hjóna fadmi vefur, tekur ad lída tímann á, til þess fædíng krefur.

42. Nú er búin borgin Róm; bod til Sabinía, berast nú og bréfin fróm, ad bjóda í stadinn nýa.

43. Þar á ad vera helgihald, og hátíd Guda mesta, hvør sem ber til vilja og vald, velkominn sé gesta.

44. Margir girnast þetta þá, þángad flockar renna, borgar firna byggíng sjá, bædi manna og qvenna.

45. Pompíll fylgir þángad þjód; þakinn flocki meya, líka bylgju blóma rjód, barnshafandi freya.

46. Inn í stadinn ýta hvur, otar hvøtum fæti, lætur rada Rómulur, reckum þá í sæti.

47. Tignar rædur tróni sá, til hans augun voga, lofdúngs klædum logudu á, ljósin Elivoga.

48. Þegar hann setst í sætid há, svipadi þadan ótti, vaxtar mestur manna sá, mildíng vera þótti.

49. Hann ólútur leit um her, á lægri skør er sitnr, dymt og þrútid andlit er, augun snør og bitur.

50. Veltir þannig fjalli frá, fálkinn sjónar vølum, þar sem fann hann fugla smá, fløgta í grónum dølum.

51. Géfur bendíng hilmir hár; hana Rómar vidur, taka í hendur sverdin sár, og sýngja skjóma-qvidur.

52. Byrja slag og þrætur þá, þræls ad háttum vestum, konur draga og dætur frá, djarfir sáttum géstum.

53. Sabiníngar sjá þad rán, svipar brúnum nidur, viknir híngad vopna án, vóru og búnir midur.

54. Taka fángbrøgd fjøndum á, fyrir líf ei vakta, en sverdin gánga gégnum þá, guma hlífar nakta.

55. Grátur qvenna óhljód øll, yfirgnæfir hinna, þeirra menn og fedur føll, fá og æfi linna.

56. Rómar eira aungvu meir, undir fá ad svída, fljódin keyra í felur þeir, en fella þá sem strída.

57. Bani því er búinn hveim, sem brúda þvíngar skadinn, sumir flýa særdir heim, svívirdíngar stadinn.

58. Pompíl segja førum frá, fyrst þar harnar ýma, qvinnu eigin nam ad ná, þar Nídíngarnir glíma.

59. Kémpan hrund á handlegg ber, húsid flúid gétur, eptir skundar honum her, heppnast nú ei betur.

60. Honum rífa frúna frá, fast ad herda leidir, af einum þrífur ødlíng þá, eggjad sverd og reidir.

61. Leiptradi bláa Blinds-eldíng, budla þá í høndum, nidur sáir hann í hríng, hlífa gráum fjøndum.

62. Sár af boga flugum fær, fylkir og þó stendur, en hvør sem vogar honum nær, Hárs er loga brendur.

63. Sókn uppgéfa þrælar því, þeingill fljód án skada, sína vefur innan í, arma blódlitada.

64. Lángt frá þannig ljónsinnan, lítur af gøtu breidri, veidimanninn vopnadan, voga ad sínu hreidri.

65. Hennar reidin svellur sár, svo vill hreysti reyna,øskrar, freydir, hristir hár, hrømmum kreistir steina.

66. Ecki hlítir hlaupi mann, hún er frá sem tundur, rífur, slítur, hremmir hann, hjartad táir sundur.

67. Sína únga sídan mód, sig í kríngum vefur, hennar túnga, er hylur blód, hjúkrun þessum géfur.

68. Þar sem blódug báladist, í brjósti heiptin strída, á nú módur ástin vist, innilega blída.

69. Pompíll fimur leid um lód, med ljúfa byrdi hvatar, af hans limum lekur blód, litud verdur gata.

70. Hofi gétur helgu nád , há-altarid vidur, nidursetur sørfa lád, og Seres vernda bidur.

71. Frá sér unda líka ljá, lagdi sverda Haudur, þadan skundar fetin fá, og fellur nidur daudur.

72. Høfud-Prestur Tullur tród, til og finnur brúdi, þar vid mestu harma hljód, hjartad sorgin gnúdi.

73. Hørmúng alla í einu bar, eingar bjargir skína, yfirfalla fædíngar-feiknir hana og pína.

74. Tullur vann sitt lid ad ljá; lífs med merkjum følum, fæddi svannin son, og þá, sofnadi burt frá qvølum.

75. Klerkur minnast vitur vann, víf hvørs bedid hefur, Gydju sinni hollri hann, helgar svein og géfur.

76. Ber til sinna húsa heim, hann ad væru rúmi, konur sinna sveini þeim, sá er heitinn Númi.

77. Bál med prýdi búid var, bádum hjóna náum, fylgdi lýdur landsins þar, lofdúng Tasa háum.

78. Allur herinn harma bar, hrópudu qvinnur linar, en lofdúng sver vid logann þar, látins hefna vinar.

79. Pompíls brennu firdar frá, feta senn í stadinn, sækja menn til sjóla þá, svídur qvenna skadinn.

80. Ødlíng sjálfur oddvitinn, er og fylkíng setur, hjørtun skjálfa harmþrútin, heiptin ferda hvetur.

81. Þar sem stofnast ferd áfjád, flesta kynjar sveina: loptid klofnar, kiknar lád, klettar stynja og veina;

82. Runnar fjúka, falla tré, í felur grøsin skrída, fljótin strjúka úr farvegje, flestar sképnur qvída.

83. Allt hvad lifir undan rak, ótta grídar vedur, þar sem yfir ekru bak, ógnfylkíngin tredur.

84. Fram svo nádi æda øld, opt þó mæti slørkum, uns þeir ráda ad reisa tjøld, á Rómaborgar mørkum.