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Updated: June 13, 2025
The sun hung high overhead, under foot the snow crunched pleasantly, and the air was clear and bracing a day to inspire an adventurer and a skald. His thoughts began to take a rhyming turn, and he caught himself repeating his own verses: "Fare thee well, sweet blue-eyed Osla!
Jatgeir My soul has a like shyness; therefore I do not strip me when there are many in the hall. Who taught you skaldcraft? Jatgeir Skaldcraft can not be taught, my lord. King Skule Can not be taught? How came it then? Jatgeir I got the gift of sorrow, and I was a skald. King Skule Then 'tis the gift of sorrow the skald has need of?
Anes pay it never crave it. A fools bolt is soon shot. Anes wood, never wise, ay the worse. As the Carle riches he wretches. An ill life, an ill end. A Skabbed Horse is good enough for a skald Squire. A given Horse should not be lookt in the teeth. An old seck craves meikle clouting. A travelled man hath leave to lye. A fool when he hes spoken, hes all done. A man that is warned, is half-armed.
The skald he was a sort of poet and musician, but at the same time a warrior who had been with them, and had witnessed what he sang about, gave them a song, wherein they heard recounted all their achievements in battle, and wonderful adventures. At the end of every verse came the same refrain, "Fortune dies, friends die, one dies one's self; but a glorious name never dies."
"I have told you there is land enough for both of them, also the gold that came with his mother will be his, and that's no small sum," answered Thorvald. "He's no warrior, but a skald," objected Athalbrand again; "a silly half-man who makes songs and plays upon the harp." "Songs are sometimes stronger than swords," replied my father, "and, after all, it is wisdom that rules.
"Meet was I in days agone For storm, wherein the Sweeping One, Midst rain of swords, and the darts' breath, Blew o'er all a gale of death. Now a maimed, one-footed man On rollers' steed through waters wan Out to Iceland must I go; Ah, the skald is sinking low."
Although many held me strange and fey, all men loved me because I had a kind heart and gentleness, also because of the wrongs that I had suffered and for something which they saw in me, which they believed would one day make of me a great skald and a wise leader.
Emerson stands apart from the other poets and essayists of New England, and of English literature generally, as of another order. He is a reversion to an earlier type, the type of the bard, the skald, the poet-seer. He is the poet and prophet of the moral ideal.
See that your helms be burnished, See that your blades be ground, When he of Yngve's kindred Sends the war token round!" His hearers looked at him in amazement. His eyes flashed, his lips twitched, the whole man was transformed for the moment into the Viking of the western seas. "Once I was a skald myself," he said. "You have quickened what I thought was dead."
When the last strain ended, from the mighty host a great shout went up, loud as the roar of winter billows breaking in the hollows of the shore; and men knew not whom to declare the victor, the chief bard of Erin or the Skald of the northern lands.
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