The Life and Death of Cormac the Skald [18]
O sweet one, O queen of the mead-horn, O glory of sea-dazzle gleaming, These grim hours, -- these five nights, I count them. And here in the kettle-prow cabined While the crow's day drags on in the darkness, How loathly me seems to be lying, How lonely, -- so near and so far!"
"That," said she, "is all over and done with; name it no more." But he sang: --
(60) "The hot stone shall float, -- ay, the hearth-stone Like a husk of the corn on the water, -- Ah, woe for the wight that she loves not! -- And the world, -- ah, she loathes me! -- shall perish, And the fells that are famed for their hugeness Shall fail and be drowned in the ocean, Or ever so gracious a goddess Shall grow into beauty like Steingerd."
Then Steingerd cried out that she would not have him make songs upon her: but he went on: --
(61) "I have known it and noted it clearly, O neckleted fair one, in visions, -- Is it doom for my hopes, -- is it daring To dream? -- O so oft have I seen it! -- Even this, -- that the boughs of thy beauty, O braceleted fair one, shall twine them Round the hill where the hawk loves to settle, The hand of thy lover, at last."
"That," said she, "never shall be, if I can help it. Thou didst let me go, once for all; and there is no more hope for thee."
So then they slept the night long; and in the morning, when Cormac was making ready to be gone, he found Steingerd, and took the ring off his finger to give her.
"Fiend take thee and thy gold together!" she cried. And this is what he answered: --
(62) "To a dame in her broideries dainty This drift of the furnace I tendered; O day of ill luck, for a lover So lured, and so heartlessly cheated! Too blithe in the pride of her beauty -- The bliss that I crave she denies me; So rich that no boon can I render, -- And my ring she would hurl to the fiends!"
So Cormac rode forth, being somewhat angry with Steingerd, but still more so with the Tinker. He rode home to Mel, and stayed there all the winter, taking lodgings for his chapmen near the ship.
CHAPTER TWENTY Of A Spiteful Song That Cormac Never Made; And How Angry Steingerd Was.
Now Thorvald the Tinker lived in the north-country at Svinadal (Swindale), but his brother Thorvard at Fliot. In the winter Cormac took his way northward to see Steingerd; and coming to Svinadal he dismounted and went into the chamber. She was sitting on the dais, and he took his seat beside her; Thorvald sat on the bench, and Narfi by him.
Then said Narfi to Thorvald, "How canst thou sit down, with Cormac here? It is no time, this, for sitting still!"
But Thorvald answered, "I am content; there is no harm done it seems to me, though they do talk together."
"That is ill," said Narfi.
Not long afterwards Thorvald met his brother Thorvard and told him about Cormac's coming to his house.
"Is it right, think you," said Thorvard, "to sit still while such things happen?"
He answered that there was no harm done as yet, but that Cormac's coming pleased him not.
"I'll mend that," cried Thorvard, "if you dare not. The shame of it touches us all."
So this was the next thing, -- that Thorvard came to Svinadal, and the Skiding brothers and Narfi paid a gangrel beggar-man to sing a song in the hearing of Steingerd, and to say that Cormac had made it, -- which was a lie. They said that Cormac had taught this song to one called Eylaug, a kinswoman of his; and these were the words: --
(63) "I wish an old witch that I know of, So wealthy and proud of her havings, Were turned to a steed in the stable -- Called Steingerd -- and I were the rider! I'd bit her, and bridle, and saddle, I'd back her and drive her and tame her; So many she owns for her masters, But mine she will never become!"
Then Steingerd grew exceedingly angry, so that she would not
"That," said she, "is all over and done with; name it no more." But he sang: --
(60) "The hot stone shall float, -- ay, the hearth-stone Like a husk of the corn on the water, -- Ah, woe for the wight that she loves not! -- And the world, -- ah, she loathes me! -- shall perish, And the fells that are famed for their hugeness Shall fail and be drowned in the ocean, Or ever so gracious a goddess Shall grow into beauty like Steingerd."
Then Steingerd cried out that she would not have him make songs upon her: but he went on: --
(61) "I have known it and noted it clearly, O neckleted fair one, in visions, -- Is it doom for my hopes, -- is it daring To dream? -- O so oft have I seen it! -- Even this, -- that the boughs of thy beauty, O braceleted fair one, shall twine them Round the hill where the hawk loves to settle, The hand of thy lover, at last."
"That," said she, "never shall be, if I can help it. Thou didst let me go, once for all; and there is no more hope for thee."
So then they slept the night long; and in the morning, when Cormac was making ready to be gone, he found Steingerd, and took the ring off his finger to give her.
"Fiend take thee and thy gold together!" she cried. And this is what he answered: --
(62) "To a dame in her broideries dainty This drift of the furnace I tendered; O day of ill luck, for a lover So lured, and so heartlessly cheated! Too blithe in the pride of her beauty -- The bliss that I crave she denies me; So rich that no boon can I render, -- And my ring she would hurl to the fiends!"
So Cormac rode forth, being somewhat angry with Steingerd, but still more so with the Tinker. He rode home to Mel, and stayed there all the winter, taking lodgings for his chapmen near the ship.
CHAPTER TWENTY Of A Spiteful Song That Cormac Never Made; And How Angry Steingerd Was.
Now Thorvald the Tinker lived in the north-country at Svinadal (Swindale), but his brother Thorvard at Fliot. In the winter Cormac took his way northward to see Steingerd; and coming to Svinadal he dismounted and went into the chamber. She was sitting on the dais, and he took his seat beside her; Thorvald sat on the bench, and Narfi by him.
Then said Narfi to Thorvald, "How canst thou sit down, with Cormac here? It is no time, this, for sitting still!"
But Thorvald answered, "I am content; there is no harm done it seems to me, though they do talk together."
"That is ill," said Narfi.
Not long afterwards Thorvald met his brother Thorvard and told him about Cormac's coming to his house.
"Is it right, think you," said Thorvard, "to sit still while such things happen?"
He answered that there was no harm done as yet, but that Cormac's coming pleased him not.
"I'll mend that," cried Thorvard, "if you dare not. The shame of it touches us all."
So this was the next thing, -- that Thorvard came to Svinadal, and the Skiding brothers and Narfi paid a gangrel beggar-man to sing a song in the hearing of Steingerd, and to say that Cormac had made it, -- which was a lie. They said that Cormac had taught this song to one called Eylaug, a kinswoman of his; and these were the words: --
(63) "I wish an old witch that I know of, So wealthy and proud of her havings, Were turned to a steed in the stable -- Called Steingerd -- and I were the rider! I'd bit her, and bridle, and saddle, I'd back her and drive her and tame her; So many she owns for her masters, But mine she will never become!"
Then Steingerd grew exceedingly angry, so that she would not