The Younger Edda (tr. Anderson)/Extracts from the Poetical Diction/The Grottesong
THE GROTTESONG.
Now are come
To the house of the king
The prescient two,
Fenja and Menja.
There must the mighty
Maidens toil
For King Frode,
Fridleif's son.
Brought to the mill
Soon they were;
The gray stones
They had to turn.
Nor rest nor peace
He gave to them:
He would hear the maidens
Turn the mill.
They turned the mill,
The prattling stones
The mill ever rattling.
What a noise it made!
Lay the planks!
Lift the stones![1]
But he[2] bade the maids
Yet more to grind.
They sang and swung
The swift mill- stone,
So that Frode 's folk
Fell asleep.
Then, when she came
To the mill to grind,
With a hard heart
And with loud voice
Did Menja sing:
We grind for Frode
Wealth and happiness,
And gold abundant
On the mill of luck.
Dance on roses!
Sleep on down!
Wake when you please!
That is well ground.
Here shall no one
Hurt the other.
Nor in ambush lie,
Nor seek to kill;
Nor shall any one
With sharp sword hew,
Though bound he should find
His brother's bane.
They stood in the hall,
Their hands were resting;
Then was it the first
Word that he spoke:
Sleep not longer
Than the cuckoo on the hall,
Or only while
A song I sing:
Frode! you were not
Wary enough, —
You friend of men, —
When maids you bought!
At their strength you looked,
And at their fair faces.
But you asked no questions
About their descent.
Hard was Hrungner
And his father;
Yet was Thjasse
Stronger than they,
And Ide and Orner,
Our friends, and
The mountain-giants' brothers,
Who fostered us two.
Not would Grotte have come
From the mountain gray,
Nor this hard stone
Out from the earth;
The maids of the mountain-giants
Would not thus be grinding
If we two knew
Nothing of the mill.
Through winters nine
Our strength increased.
While below the sod
We played together.
Great deeds were the maids
Able to perform;
Mountains they
From their places moved.
The stone we rolled
From the giants' dwelling,
So that all the earth
Did rock and quake.
So we hurled
The rattling- stone,
The heavy block,
That men caught it.
In Svithjod's land
Afterward we
Fire-wise women,
Fared to the battle,
Byrnies we burst,
Shields we cleaved,
Made our way
Through gray-clad hosts.
One chief we slew.
Another we aided,—
To Guthorm the Good
Help we gave.
Ere Knue had fallen
Nor rest we got.
Then bound we were
And taken prisoners.
Such were our deeds
In former days,
That we heroes brave
Were thought to be.
With spears sharp
Heroes we pierced.
So the gore did run
And our swords grew red.
Now we are come
To the house of the king,
No one us pities.
Bond-women are we.
Dirt eats our feet,
Our limbs are cold,
The peace-giver[3] we turn.
Hard it is at Frode 's.
The hands shall stop,
The stone shall stand;
Now have I ground
For my part enough.
Yet to the hands
No rest must be given,
'Till Frode thinks
Enough has been ground.
Now hold shall the hands
The lances hard.
The weapons bloody, —
Wake now. Frode!
Wake now, Frode!
If you would listen
To our songs, —
To sayings old.
Fire I see burn
East of the burg, —
The warnews are awake.
That is called warning.
A host hither
Hastily approaches
To burn the king's
Lofty dwelling
No longer you will sit
On the throne of Hleidra
And rule o'er red
Rings and the mill.
Now must we grind
With all our might,
No warmth will we get
From the blood of the slain.
Now my father's daughter
Bravely turns the mill.
The death of many
Men she sees.
Now broke the large
Braces 'neath the mill, —
The iron-bound braces.
Let us yet grind!
Let us yet grind!
Yrsa's son
Shall on Frode revenge
Halfdan's death.
He shall Yrsa's
Offspring be named,
And yet Yrsa's brother.
Both of us know it.
The mill turned the maidens, —
Their might they tested;
Young they were,
And giantesses wild.
The braces trembled.
Then fell the mill,—
In twain was broken
The heavy stone.
All the old world
Shook and trembled,
But the giant's maid
Speedily said:
We have turned the mill. Frode!
Now we may stop.
By the mill long enough
The maidens have stood.