Most of you probably saw this somewhat 'confusing' name and asked yourselves, "Who is that?"
Basically, Egil Skallagrimsson was the most infamous poet of the Viking Age. Born in Iceland in the early 900's, Egil was the son of the Norwegian chieftain, Skalla Grimr Kveldulfsson. Not only did he write his first poem at the age of three (therefore signaling his love for Viking remembrance), but he was also an intensely- violent berserker (Viking warriors, who went berserk before each and every battle; this gave the hero more rigor in his quest to kill the enemy).
Although Egil's history could be considered a bit gory, his poetry showed off his more pleasant side:
"By sun and moon
I journeyed west,
My sea-borne tune
From Odin's breast,
My song-ship packed
With poet's art:
Its word-keel cracked
The frozen heart.
And now I feed
With an English king:
So to English mead
I'll word-mead bring,
Your praise my task,
My song your fame,
If you but ask
I'll sound your name.
These praises, King,
Won't cost you dear
That I shall sing
If you will hear:
Who beat and blazed
Your trail of red,
Till Odin gazed
Upon the dead.
Won't cost you dear
That I shall sing
If you will hear:
Who beat and blazed
Your trail of red,
Till Odin gazed
Upon the dead.
On his gold arm
The bright shield swings:
To his foes, harm:
To his friends, rings;
His fame's a feast
Of glorious war,
His name sounds east,
From shore to shore.
The bright shield swings:
To his foes, harm:
To his friends, rings;
His fame's a feast
Of glorious war,
His name sounds east,
From shore to shore.
And now my lord,
You've listened long
As word on word
I built this song:
Your source is war,
Your streams are blood,
But my springs pour
Great Odin's flood.
You've listened long
As word on word
I built this song:
Your source is war,
Your streams are blood,
But my springs pour
Great Odin's flood.
To praise my lord
This tight mouth broke,
The word-floods poured,
The still tongue spoke,
From my poet's breast
These words took wing:
Now all the rest
May learn to sing."
This tight mouth broke,
The word-floods poured,
The still tongue spoke,
From my poet's breast
These words took wing:
Now all the rest
May learn to sing."
I wonder how his poetry would sound in its original language. It is not unusual to see warriors also known for some time of the "arts". I suppose they needed to bring some balance to their lives.
ReplyDeleteMr. C
Noel Elementary
NoelTigers.com
Indeed; if you are interested, you can go to the website that I included in the end of the post. There are two, 10 to 15 second excerpts of his poetry, both of which are read in Old Norse. To me, they sound interesting...
ReplyDelete