The Prose Edda (Translated with an Introduction, Notes, and Vocabulary by Rasmus B. Anderson). Snorri SturlusonЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Preface.

      In the beginning, before the heaven and the earth and the sea were created, the great abyss Ginungagap was without form and void, and the spirit of Fimbultyr moved upon the face of the deep, until the ice-cold rivers, the Elivogs, flowing from Niflheim, came in contact with the dazzling flames from Muspelheim. This was before Chaos.

      And Fimbultyr said: Let the melted drops of vapor quicken into life, and the giant Ymer was born in the midst of Ginungagap. He was not a god, but the father of all the race of evil giants. This was Chaos.

      And Fimbultyr said: Let Ymer be slain and let order be established. And straightway Odin and his brothers—the bright sons of Bure—gave Ymer a mortal wound, and from his body made they the universe; from his flesh, the earth; from his blood, the sea; from his bones, the rocks; from his hair, the trees; from his skull, the vaulted heavens; from his eye-brows, the bulwark called Midgard. And the gods formed man and woman in their own image of two trees, and breathed into them the breath of life. Ask and Embla became living souls, and they received a garden in Midgard as a dwelling-place for themselves and their children until the end of time. This was Cosmos.

      The gods themselves dwelt in Asgard. Some of them were of the mighty Asa-race: Valfather Odin, and Frigg his Queen; Thor, the master of Mjolner; Balder, the good; the one-handed Tyr; Brage, the song-smith. Idun having the youth-giving apples, and Heimdal, the watcher of Asgard. Others were mild and gentle vans: Njord, Frey, and Freyja, the goddess of love; but in the midst of Asgard in daily intercourse with the gods, the serpent Loke, the friend of giants, winded his slimy coils.

      To these gods our Teutonic ancestors offered sacrifices, to them prayers ascended, and from them came such blessings as each god found it proper to bestow. Most of all were these gods worshiped on the battle-field, for there was the home of the Teuton. There he lived and there he hoped some day to die; for if the norns, the weavers of fate, permitted him to fall sword in hand, then would he not descend to the shades of Hel, but be carried in valkyrian arms up to Valhal, where a new life would be granted unto him, or better, where he would continue his earthly life in intercourse with the gods.

      Happy gatherings at the banquet, where the flowing mead-horn was passed freely round, and where words of wisdom and wit abounded, or martial games with sharp swords and spears, were the delight of the asas. Under the ash Ygdrasil they met in council, and if they ever appeared outside of the walls of Asgard, it was to go on errands of love, or to make war on the giants, their enemies from the beginning. Especially did Thor seldom sit still when he heard rumors of giants; with his heavy hammer, Mjolner, he slew Hrungner and the Midgard-serpent, gave Thrym and all that race of giants bloody bridal-gifts in Freyja’s garments, and frightened the juggler Loki, of Utgard, who had to resort to his black art for safety. Thus lived the gods in heaven very much like their worshipers on earth, excepting that Idun’s apples ever preserved them fresh and youthful.

      But Loke, the serpent, was in the midst of them. Frigg’s heart was filled with gloomy forebodings in regard to Balder, her beloved son, and her mind could not find rest until all things that could harm him had sworn not to injure Balder. Now they had nothing to fear for the best god, and with perfect abandon and security they themselves made him serve as a mark, and hurled darts, stones and other weapons at him, whom nothing could scathe. But the serpent Loke was more subtle than any one within or without Asgard, whom Fimbultyr had made; and he came to Hoder, the blind god, put the tender mistletoe in his hand and directed his arm, so that Balder sank from the joys of Valhal down into the abodes of pale Hel, and did not return. Loke is bound and tortured, but innocence has departed from Asgard; among men there are bloody wars; brothers slay brothers; sensual sins grow huge; perjury has taken the place of truth. The elements themselves become discordant, and then comes the great Fimbul-winter, with its howling storms and terrible snow, that darkens the air and takes all gladness from the sun.

      The world’s last day approaches. All bonds and fetters that bound the forces of heaven and earth together are severed, and the powers of good and of evil are brought together in an internecine feud. Loke advances with the Fenris-wolf and the Midgard-serpent, his own children, with all the hosts of the giants, and with Surt, who flings fire and flame over the world. Odin advances with all the asas and all the blessed einherjes. They meet, contend, and fall. The wolf swallows Odin but Vidar, the Silent, sets his foot upon the monster’s lower jaw, he seizes the other with his hand, and thus rends him till he dies. Frey encounters Surt, and terrible blows are given ere Frey falls. Heimdal and Loke fight and kill each other, and so do Tyr and the dog Garm from the Gnipa Cave. Asa-Thor fells the Midgard-serpent with his Mjolner, but he retreats only nine paces when he himself falls dead, suffocated by the serpent’s venom. Then smoke wreathes up around the ash Ygdrasil, the high flames play against the heavens, the graves of the gods, of the giants and of men are swallowed up by the sea, and the end has come. This is Ragnarok, the twilight of the gods.

      But the radiant dawn follows the night. The earth, completely green, rises again from the sea, and where the mews have but just been rocking on restless waves, rich fields unplowed and unsown, now wave their golden harvests before the gentle breezes. The asas awake to a new life, Balder is with them again. Then comes the mighty Fimbultyr, the god who is from everlasting to everlasting; the god whom the Edda skald dared not name. The god of gods comes to the asas. He comes to the great judgment and gathers all the good into Gimle to dwell there forever, and evermore delights enjoy; but the perjurers and murderers and adulterers he sends to Nastrand, that terrible hall, to be torn by Nidhug until they are purged from their wickedness. This is Regeneration.

      These are the outlines of the Teutonic religion. Such were the doctrines established by Odin among our ancestors. Thus do we find it recorded in the Eddas of Iceland.

      The present volume contains all of the Younger Edda that can possibly be of any importance to English readers. In fact, it gives more than has ever before been presented in any translation into English, German or any of the modern Scandinavian tongues.

      We would recommend our readers to omit the Forewords and Afterwords until they have perused the Fooling of Gylfe and Brage’s Speech. The Forewords and Afterwords, it will readily be seen, are written by a later and less skillful hand, and we should be sorry to have anyone lay the book aside and lose the pleasure of reading Snorre’s and Olaf’s charming work, because he became disgusted with what seemed to him mere silly twaddle. And yet these Forewords and Afterwords become interesting enough when taken up in connection with a study of the historical anthropomorphized Odin. With a view of giving a pretty complete outline of the founder of the Teutonic race we have in our notes given all the Heimskringla sketch of the Black Sea Odin. We have done this, not only on account of the material it furnishes as the groundwork of a Teutonic epic, which we trust the muses will ere long direct some one to write, but also on account of the vivid picture it gives of Teutonic life as shaped and controlled by the Odinic faith.

      All the poems quoted in the Younger Edda have in this edition been traced back to their sources in the Elder Edda and elsewhere.

      Where the notes seem to the reader insufficient, we must refer him to our Norse Mythology, where he will, we trust, find much of the additional information he may desire.

      Well aware that our work has many imperfections, and begging our readers to deal generously with our shortcomings, we send the book out into the world with the hope that it may aid some young son or daughter of Odin to find his way to the fountains of Urd and Mimer and to Idun’s rejuvenating apples. The son must not squander, but husband wisely, what his father has accumulated. The race must cherish and hold fast and add to the thought that the past has bequeathed to it. Thus does it grow greater and richer with each new generation. The past is the mirror that reflects the future.

      R. B. ANDERSON.

      University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis., September, 1879.

      TO