Skaldic Epics

THE SEA STALLION FROM GLENDALOUGH

Skaldic epics

Many Nordic skaldic epics were handed down by word of mouth from generation to generation, but despite being retold many times they are still considered today to be important sources concerning the Viking period. As Snorri argues in his Heimskringla (World Cycle), a pride was taken in repeating the poem correctly and telling the truth.

”It is of course the skald’s duty to praise the most the one he stands before but no one would anyway dare to tell a man of exploits he has had if all the audience knew it to be lies and bragging. That would be an insult and not praise.”

The skald’s praise of a king or chieftain was commonly in the form of an account of the man’s heroic deeds, for example in counsel or in war, such as seen below in Egil Skallagrimsson’s epic poem “The Head Ransom”:

'Westward I sailed the wave, 'Swell'd of swords the sound Within me Odin gave Smiting bucklers round, The sea of song I bear Fiercely waxed the fray, (So 'tis my wont to fare): Forward the king made way. I launched my floating oak Struck the ear (while blood When loosening ice-floes broke, Streamed from glaives in flood) My mind a galleon fraught Iron hailstorm's song, With load of minstrel thought. Heavy, loud and long.

'A prince doth hold me guest, 'Lances, a woven fence, Praise be his due confess'd: Well-ordered bristle dense; Of Odin's mead let draught On royal ships in line In England now be quaff'd. Exulting spearmen shine. Laud bear I to the king, Soon dark with bloody stain Loudly his honour sing; Seethed there an angry main, Silence I crave around, With war-fleet's thundering sound, My song of praise is found. With wounds and din around.

'Sire, mark the tale I tell, 'Of men many a rank Such heed beseems thee well; Mid showering darts sank: Better I chaunt my strain, Glory and fame If stillness hush'd I gain. Gat Eric's name. The monarch's wars in word Widely have peoples heard, But Odin saw alone Bodies before him strown.

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THE SEA STALLION FROM GLENDALOUGH

'More may yet be told, 'Axe furnished feast An men silence hold: For Ogress' beast: Further feats and glory, Eric on the wave Fame hath noised in story. To wolves flesh-banquet gave. Warriors' wounds were rife, Where the chief waged strife; 'Javelins flying sped, Shivered swords with stroke Peace affrighted fled; On blue shield-rims broke. Bows were bent amain, Wolves were battle-fain: 'Breast-plates ringing crashed, Spears in shivers split, Burning helm-fire flashed, Sword-teeth keenly bit; Biting point of glaive Archers' strings loud sang, Bloody wound did grave. Arrows forward sprang. Odin's oaks (they say) In that iron-play 'He back his buckler flings Baldric's crystal blade From arm beset with rings, Bowed and prostrate laid. Sword-play-stirrer good, Spiller of foemen's blood. 'Spears crossing dashed, Waxing everywhere Sword-edges clashed: (Witness true I bear), Glory and fame East o'er billows came Gat Eric's name. Eric's sounding name.

'Red blade the king did wield, 'Bent the king his yew, Ravens flocked o'er the field. Bees wound-bearing flew: Dripping spears flew madly, Eric on the wave Darts with aim full deadly. To wolves flesh-banquet gave. Scotland's scourge let feed Wolf, the Ogress' steed: 'Yet to make more plain For erne of downtrod dead I to men were fain Dainty meal was spread. High-soul'd mood of king, But must swiftly sing. 'Soared battle-cranes Weapons when he takes, O'er corse-strown lanes, The battle-goddess wakes, Found flesh-fowl's bill On ships' shielded side Of blood its fill. Streams the battle-tide. While deep the wound He delves, around Grim raven's beak Blood-fountains break.

THE SEA STALLION FROM GLENDALOUGH

'Gems from wrist he gives, 'Monarch, at thy will Glittering armlets rives: Judge my minstrel skill: Lavish ring-despiser Silence thus to find Loves not hoarding miser. Sweetly cheered my mind. Frodi's flour of gold Moved my mouth with word Gladdens rovers bold; From my heart's ground stirred, Prince bestoweth scorning Draught of Odin's wave Pebbles hand-adorning. Due to warrior brave.

'Foemen might not stand 'Silence I have broken, For his deathful brand; A sovereign's glory spoken: Yew-bow loudly sang, Words I knew well-fitting Sword-blades meeting rang. Warrior-council sitting. Lances aye were cast, Praise from heart I bring, Still he the land held fast, Praise to honoured king: Proud Eric prince renowned; Plain I sang and clear And praise his feats hath crowned. Song that all could hear.'