SVIPDAGSMAL

[Index to Svipdagsmál]
Gróugaldur and Fjölsvinnsmál
Introduction, Translation and Notes
by Olive Bray

DAY-SPRING AND MENGLOD.

Grógaldr and Fjolsvinnismál are found in several MSS., none older than the seventeenth century, as two separate poems, but they have been associated for many reasons. The one without the other is fragmentary; together they give a story which is told in a Danish ballad of the sixteenth century called "Young Svendal." In the first part the hero is starting forth upon a dangerous mission; in the second he has accomplished his journey, and arrived upon the scene of action, where he attains his object. No details are given of the perils of the way, but it is not even necessary to assume that the strophes recounting them have been lost, for a sudden dramatic opening, a swift passing over of incidents, are sufficiently common in the Edda, and require only some brief line of explanation, such as " Then Day-spring fared into Jotunheim." Here and there are found connecting links between the poems. The object of search in Part I. is mengloðom, those joyous with necklaces (st. 4) ; and Day-spring, in Part II., wins Mengloð, the Necklace-glad. If, as most authorities take it, both are proper names, the identification is complete. In st. 14 is prophesied Day-spring's dispute with the giant warder Much-wise. The same motive runs through the whole action, which from beginning to end is ruled by destiny. In st. 4 of Part I. and st. 47 of Part II. this is openly expressed "The issue must follow fate," "The doom of Weird may no wight withstand." In no poem is the Weird motive heard more clearly, in none is it more distinctly seen to work in obedience to natural law.

Menglod is often met in fairy tales as the princess who sits on a glass mountain, and is won by a princely lover; but with the help of "Young Svendal," the story can be reconstructed in its more original form. Day-spring has been sent by his step-mother to seek Menglod, a fair giant-maiden who owns a shining necklace, and is of such renown that she has long been sought by lovers in vain. Day-spring comes for help to his own mother's grave, and stands calling her at the doorway, for she has promised to aid him with the wisdom of the dead. She comes forth reluctantly, like all who are compelled by love or enchantments to re-enter their old haunts, and standing at the gates of the tomb, she sings him magic songs to render him victorious in all the difficulties which lie before him ; bonds shall not hold him, foes shall not slay him, bitter frosts on the mountains, storms on the sea, mists on the night journey, even the spirits of dead women shall not dismay him one thing alone can hinder his desire, the doom of Weird, which nor gods nor men can withstand. The charms which she sings are rune songs, such as Odin knew, and one which he had even used to win his giant-wife Rind. This scene between Gróa and her son is characteristic of the attitude of the Old Norsemen towards their dead, who were still regarded as a power for good or evil in their lives, and whose constant presence among the living was loved or feared, but never a matter of wonder, or an occurrence different in kind from the ordinary events of life. This supernatural influence had to be met with one of a corresponding nature; hence the charms and spells cut in runes which men used against one another and to combat difficulties.

Here ends the first fragment; before the opening of the second a long interval has elapsed, during which Day-spring has endured untold perils, and prevailed through the spell songs of his mother. He has, moreover, though this incident is veiled in mystery, met with Menglod (st. 5 and 49), and has lost her. She sits waiting for him on the mountain top, knowing that he will come back; and he is seeking her, with the assurance that he can break down every barrier between them. The next scene opens abruptly; Day-spring has arrived in the gloom of night at his journey's end. In the dim flickering light of magic flames he sees the giants' hall rising up before him, and in front, passing to and fro, is outlined the dark figure of the warder. The ring of fire has here a deeper signification than the wonted circle through which the princes of romance had to pass to their princess ; it is inherent in the myth. Day-spring hails Muchwise the watcher, and is refused admittance ; but he will not now turn back, his love is almost within sight, and he stands conversing with Much-wise under the assumed name of Wind-cold. Gradually he leads up to a revelation of his true name, before which all barriers will fall and leave the way open to Menglod, his beloved, who is destined for him alone. He questions Much-wise concerning all that lies in front of him, and one by one, interwoven, the obstacles are seen. Outside is the fiery ring of flames, and round the castle a huge rockwall with but one entrance, the barred gate called Sounding-clanger. Yggdrasil, the tree of life and fate, stands overshadowing all things; and in its boughs sits Golden-comb or Wood-snake, the cock whom the giants watch in dread, for when he crows their Doom will be at hand. Fierce dogs are guarding the courts, and can be eluded only when feasting on Wood-snake's wings; but Wood-snake himself can be slain by a magic wand alone, which is in the keeping of the giantess Sinmara, and she will not lend it except for a tail feather from that same cock. Thus the chain of difficulties is complete. But still Dayspring asks concerning Ember, the flaming hall, built by wondrous beings (of whom we know only Loki the fire-god and Delling the dwarf of dawn), until he comes to Menglod herself. A contrast to the ruthless spirit of Old Norse literature and to all other descriptions in the Edda is this patient figure a tender, gracious woman, waiting and yearning in heart for her lover, but shedding meantime contentment and peace on those around. Day-spring at last reveals his name, and they meet like the lovers of all time, first with trembling doubt, "Will she have me?" and "-Is it he? " then with the certainty that they have known and have been destined for one another through all eternity. The whole scene is so complete in its human passion that it seems almost superfluous to ask for any further interpretation ; but those which suggest themselves are so natural and fitting that, just seen, they fade away in delicate ethereal colours, and form a background of opalescent light.

The underlying allegory which Cassel suggests is not wholly false, although far-fetched in some of its details. The idealist sets forth in search of perfect love and beauty, which he sees far off on some high mountain top, and longs to gain. The difficulties appear insurmountable to those who strive with them in the spirit of worldly wisdom, but to him who follows the true instincts of his heavenly nature they give way, and he attains.

Much also may be said for the view which sees in this myth only another presentation of that concerning Gerd and Skirnir, the oft repeated wooing of the imprisoned earth by a summer god. If, however, the interpretation lies in natural phenomena, it must be the one suggested by the names. It is a radiant light picture Day-spring or Day-hastener, child of Sun-bright, comes as Wind-cold (the cool, fresh breeze which springs up at dawn), to wed Menglod on the mountain tops ; while she, the bright sun goddess and her shining necklace are well known to us as Freyja and Brisinga-men. The sudden revealing of Day-spring is that earliest moment in the dawn which can be called day rather than night. Still a few moments pass before Sun herself comes, and the inevitable meeting takes place between her and the Day. No myth so poetical and so fitting could be told of this union, as that of two predestined souls.

We cannot well compare the poem or associate it with any other in the Edda. It is different in spirit, more romantic, more tender, with a passion which cannot be limited to any one age or locality. Everything tends to show that it is of late origin. The writer makes frequent use of the peculiar type of synonym known as the "kenning," in which some other person or object is employed to represent and describe the particular one in view. The name of a god or goddess serves often as a general term for man or woman ; thus Eir (st. 28), who in the Prose Edda is a goddess of healing, means only a fair woman, in the present case a giantess. The old mythology had become a conventional system, technical rather than imaginative ; and names which once belonged to personal beings had lapsed into mere words expressing abstract qualities. The question of poetic diction is of importance here, for it is possible that many difficult passages could be explained in this light. St. 18, as we have given it, alludes to Golden-comb, who will first announce Doom to all giants and giantwives ; but if the names of Surt and Sinmara must be retained, the passage is meaningless to any modern reader. Not only in language and sentiment does the writer stand apart from the other poets of mythology, but his knowledge of its most famous objects is defective and obscured. The mistletoe which Loki plucked (st. 26) seems confused with Golden-comb and the Doom of the World ; the cock itself, who has his station in the scene of dawn, resembles the Christian symbol of watchfulness, whose cry dispels the power of darkness. The description of Yggdrasil, with its fruits which are instrumental in the birth of men, is so different from the old Tree of life and fate that some critics have denied their identity. The nature myth itself seems to wear a modern garb, quite unlike the old-fashioned and improbable stories of a less critical age.

The Poems Follow