Ást in grimma - Old Norse Ballad

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Here’s another song in Old Norse, this time a love song I made based on the Saga of Gunnlaugr Serpent-Tongue. My lovely wife sang it alongside me. The song title literally means “Love the Cruel”, a play on the titles often given to kings (such as “Canute the Great” etc).

The saga tells the tale of a young Skáld who leaves Iceland to sing great ballads to mighty kings across Northern Europe/the British Isles.

Before leaving, however, he falls in love with the beautiful Helga the Fair, to whom he must return within three years in order to be allowed to take her as his wife.

However, on his travels, he makes an enemy with a rival skáld, Hrafn, who is also also an Icelander, at the court of the Swedish king Óláfr skautkonungr.

The enemy skáld returns to Iceland before Gunnlaugr does, and as the three year limit has passed, he takes Helga as his wife. Gunnlaugr is kept back by the war between King Canute of Denmark and King Athelred of England and so is delayed.

He eventually returns, however, and challenges Hrafn to Holmgang, a mediaeval Scandinavian duel. He beats him, but as he offers to stop fighting and aid Hrafn to stop him from dying, Hrafn betrays him and ends up mortally wounding him.

In the end, both men die, so it’s a fairly tragic tale, not least for Helga herself.

I hope you enjoy.

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Lyrics:

Helga in fagra heitir ást mín,
hárit svá fagrt sem gull barit.
Útan skal ek fara til afheima ok
á hǫllum gylltum flytja kvæði.
Mik dreymir, mik tíðir,
ok orðfátt er mér,
Í hjarta mér remjar heit ást veitt af þér,
djúp sem hafit,
djúp sem hafit,
djúp sem hafit!

Vetr þrjá mun mín Helga bíða mín,
fǫður hennar eið sór ek dýran.
Gjafir miklar af dróttnum hefk fengit
ok unnit mér orðstír hefk góðan.
En gersemi it mesta, er ek má fá,
er bjarta ást sú, er ek hef henni á,
bjǫrt sem sólin,
bjǫrt sem sólin,
bjǫrt sem sólin!

Fjarri heimastrǫndum em ek kominn,
ok mik grimmligan tíma skortir.
Ýmsan hefk dregsk fjándskap á veginum
ok ófriðr heimferð heptir.
Gefask vel skal ek miklu dróttnum þeim,
en í hjarta mér blómgask ást, er fýsir heim,
rík sem skógrinn,
rík sem skógrinn,
rík sem skógrinn!

Auðna ill ok snǫrp ráðit því hefir,
fyr henni lætk illa í svefni.
Óvinr minn Helgu tók fyr altari,
illverk, er hón fyrirgaf aldrigi.
Nú sjávarveg aptr til Íslands ek fer,
gyrðr konungssverði ok ást þeirri, sem er
greyp sem logi,
greyp sem logi,
greyp sem logi!

Kem ek á land ok býð honum hólmgǫngu,
þann mann ek í einvígi hneykta!
En þá fer ek honum at duga við,
en hann rétta hǫnd svíkr mína.
Vit berjumsk, emk benjaðr, en ek veg hann,
en í þrá aðalmeini ást okkra ek man,
skǫrp sem sverðit,
skǫrp sem sverðit,
skǫrp sem sverðit!

Feigr ligg ek í kirkju skuggsýnni,
þar býr prestr við dauða mik.
Nær andláti dimmir mér fyrir augum,
en Helga er enn minn allhugi.
Brúðr mín látna mun eigi traust hafa,
ok sigruð ást er mér í dánarhuga,
grimm sem dauði,
grimm sem dauði,
grimm sem dauði.