Collected Works of Johan Ludvig Runeberg

by Johan Ludvig Runeberg

  Thou first-begotten of the brothers, go

  And fight thy combat out alone, and perish

  If victory, perchance, betrays thy sword.”

  LXXXII

  And Gall, with shield on outstretched arm advancing,

  Engaged the Lochlin hero all alone;

  In sooth, no weakling was the prince of Selma,

  Yet soon his life-blood served the dust for drink.

  LXXXIII

  He waged the battle in his youthful splendour;

  He fell with honour from the height of strength,

  Like to the wave that rises in the daylight,

  And, ray-bemantled, still again subsides.

  LXXXIV

  Upon the shingle, soaked in blood, stepped forward

  Prince Rurmar, born not for the battle fray;

  With but the dream and with the harp familiar,

  And with the early sorrows of the heart.

  LXXXV

  His fight was such as is the fight of torches

  Against the storms of night. ‘Neath Hialmar’s blows

  He sank, and to all minstrelsy for ever

  Thenceforth was cold the bosom of the youth.

  LXXXVI

  The third was Clesamor himself, the youngest

  By tale of years, but seen at early age

  In fellowship with fighting-men of Morven

  On fields of death by iron over-flashed.

  LXXXVII

  In furious anger he engaged in battle,

  His glances darted forth their flames of threats;

  Intent on vengeance for the blood his brothers,

  Now pale in death, had shed, he wielded sword.

  LXXXVIII

  And loudly rang again the steel in striking;

  And Morven listened with delight once more

  Unto a late, a half-extinguished echo

  Of sounds familiar once in Ossian’s days.

  LXXXIX

  Then Hialmar, touched at heart, his hand restraining

  When on the point to deal a deadly blow,

  Exclaimed: “O youth, refrain from further fighting;

  For saga fame I wish to spare thy life.

  XC

  “I am delighted with thy morning’s splendour;

  Thy day shall beam in sunny lustre yet;

  Come, reach me now thy hand for frank atonement,

  And live for the delight of glorious deeds.”

  XCI

  In scorn replied the warrior prince of Selma

  With but a blow dealt flatling by his sword.

  Again they fell to fighting, and, extinguished

  In blood, the glance of Clesamor was closed.

  XCII

  Thou, maiden from the billowy ocean’s region,

  Thy blue eye is bedimmed by flowing tears.

  There was laid low, Oihonna, not thy hero.

  Why weepeth then the maiden of the waves?

  XCIII

  In taking by the hand the aged monarch,

  She spake: “O father, mourn; alone and bowed

  Thou now art left behind with me and darkness

  But to await the conqueror’s commands.

  XCIV

  “Not one of all thy sons remaineth breathing

  Upon the rocky shores of Morven’s land.

  In death they all have followed one another.

  Their sleep is now the slumber of the grave.”

  XCV

  She held her peace. And King Morannal’s forehead

  Shone in a brighter aspect once again.

  Each cloud of his unrest departed calmly

  Out of the faded day upon his face.

  XCVI

  “Now can Morannal,” said the King of Morven,

  “Relieved of every anxious fear, depart,

  And frankly meet the spirits of the fathers

  Within the azure palace of the stars. —

  XCVII

  “No memories to blush for now attend him,

  Nor shall he need to hide in night of clouds

  His ghost for any shame his sons committed

  When Fingal comes approaching through the skies.

  XCVIII

  “Make ready unto me a grave, O daughter,

  Upon the sandy bed where now at rest

  Are Selma’s princes; grant us all together

  A common tomb within the land of harps.

  XCIX

  “Then follow, on his path of high achievements,

  The noble stranger, happy, and preserve

  The memory of Morannal still, and listen

  When minstrels in their songs exalt his praise.”

  C

  And gently fell his head of hoary whiteness

  Upon his shoulder, and his eyelids closed;

  And the illumined spirit of the monarch

  Flew happy to the mansions of the clouds.

  KING FILIAR. SONG V

  Oh, what is man that he should storm against you?

  Like stars in space unreachable you smile

  Through clouds of earthly fate which, like a plaything,

  One breath of your own will controls at once.

  I

  FIALAR the king, now grown exceeding aged,

  Kept mostly still within his high-roofed hall.

  Long days had passed since he had viewed his country,

  Or chanced to breathe the cooling air of lakes.

  II

  A day befell; the Sun, but lately risen

  In splendour from his bath within the waves,

  Illumined with his never-aging gladness

  The hall again, as in the days of yore.

  III

  The king this morning-tide was merry-hearted,

  And radiant glory shone upon his face.

  On memories of stormy days departed

  He dwelt among his hoary men-at-arms.

  IV

  But breaking off his converse of a sudden,

  And rising stately from the throne, he said —

  “They fly with speed of wings, these hours of vigour,

  And days enough for memory we have left.

  V

  “Come, lead me up unto Mount Telmar’s summit;

  I would behold my country once again,

  And all the weal my spirit has created,

  Before the barrow’s night bedims mine eye.

  VI

  “Bring me my sword! For one feat yet remaineth

  To be performed by my enfeebled arm.

  To triumph was my wont, in triumph only

  Behoves it that King Fialar’s saga close.”

  VII

  And, sword-begirt, they led the aged monarch

  Up to Mount Telmar’s summit; and he sat,

  And silently he thence beheld his country

  Where, clasped by summer, it reposed in peace.

  VIII

  O’er balmy dales the sun was shining brightly,

  And o’er a wide expanse of glassy lakes.

  ‘Twixt hillocks blue meandering waters shimmered,

  And harvest waved by harvest on the fields.

  IX

  And bright and happy Fialar’s wide dominion

  Lay at his feet, in festal robes arrayed;

  And with a face sweet as a grateful daughter’s

  Looked up towards its hoary-headed sire.

  X

  And tears bedimmed the eyes of aged Fialar,

  And words of pride he uttered: “I have seen

  My work; it is enough; and in fulfilment

  Lives here for memory the oath I swore.

  XI

  “Of desert countrysides my fathers left me

  I have created a productive land.

  By men of yore these fields were never furrowed,

  Nor ever saw these cottages my youth.

  XII

  “I now have lived.” The high lord sat in silence.

  But forward to him from the warriors’ group

  Stepped
Siolf, the ancient man, with clouded forehead,

  And raised his voice, and uttered words of power —

  XIII

  “Thou, King, art old; thy strength of arm is failing,

  And heavily thou leanest unto earth.

  Of what thou wast before a shadow only,

  Now melting into night, my eye beholds.

  XIV

  “If thou wast self-sufficient, why must wither

  Thy limbs, then, in the autumn of thine age?

  If thou hast made the work thou now beholdest,

  Up, then, create thy youth again thyself.

  XV

  “Before high Gods, O King, abase thy spirit!

  Thy very greatness was a gift from them.

  For Frey it was that clothed the field in verdure,

  All-Father fenced thy country’s peace alone.

  XVI

  “’Twas Thor’s the vigour that of yore thou thoughtest

  Was thine, when mighty thou stoodst forth in fight;

  What by thyself thou couldst do was: forgotten.

  To fall, as falls a tree in trackless wood.”

  XVII

  So the old man. King Fialar sat and pondered,

  And then in calm defiance spake and said —

  “I’ve heard of powers that ne’er were seen by mortals,

  In dreamy phantoms I am bid believe.

  XVIII

  “Unwont am I to put my trust in others,

  In my own bosom I have found my stay.

  Thus men I swayed, and snatched the very rudder

  Of fate from Gods, who threatened me in vain.

  XIX

  “It may be true that Fialar groweth older,

  His shoulder heavier, his locks more white.

  Much must needs pass away that was aforetime;

  So life will live, such is the course of things,

  XX

  “One thing remains. The arm, although enfeebled,

  I can lift up to victory once more.

  My life’s fast fading gaieties and greatness

  I can renounce with kingly smile, and die.

  XXI

  “And die I will. My task is done.” So speaking,

  The aged lord uplifted high his head,

  Let fall upon the rock his royal mantle,

  And to the day lay bare his scarry breast.

  XXII

  Last, he unsheathed his sword; as erst in battle

  The lustre glittered of the speckless blade.

  And in his eye a flash was still discovered,

  As on the steel a greeting glance he cast.

  XXIII

  “But where is Dargar now?” the king proceeded,

  “He who o’erhears the counsels of the Gods,

  Who sees through regions all beyond his vision,

  And lives in times that have not dawned as yet?

  XXIV

  “Had he indeed the wisdom he professes,

  He now would know the hour, and keep his tryst.

  He’s pledged to stand before my sword, ere mightless

  Th’ avenger’s lightning rests in withered hand.”

  XXV

  And at the word was seen a ghostly figure

  Approaching slowly through the dale below.

  Unto the mountain-heights its way it wended,

  Advancing to the top where Fialar sat.

  XXVI

  The king seemed wonderstruck at recognizing

  The hoary wanderer’s features once again.

  Without a word his hand and sword together

  Sank quietly beside him to the ground.

  XXVII

  And Dargar stood before the king. “Commanded

  By thee to come, here thou beholdest me!

  A long time thou, O King, hast left me waiting;

  Since former years thy frailty has increased.

  XXVIII

  “Hast thou succeeded in thy work’s fulfilment,

  And is the oath thou sworest still maintained?

  Hast thou laid out for life the path it follows,

  Turned Gods and godly counsels into clouds?”

  XXIX

  King Fialar laughed. “Amazing things will happen

  At times,” he said; “but on what breeze was borne,

  Thou ancient rover, to thine ear my challenge

  The very moment it had passed my lips?

  XXX

  “Still, thou hast come, that is enough. An answer

  Unto thy question in return I give:

  I have laid down for life the path it follows,

  And my own counsel, not the Gods’, prevails.

  XXXI

  “Look round; it is my land thou seest before thee.

  Was it what now it is when I was not?

  I might have sacrificed in war whatever

  Of human kind here now delights in life.

  XXXII

  “This realm I could have harried, had I chosen,

  And made a waste of it from bound to bound,

  So that no wind had found a leaf to rustle,

  No butterfly a plant whereon to light.

  XXXIII

  “What seest thou now? As far as eye surveyeth

  ,The light of day is shed on furrowed tilth,

  And groves now stand where stood but desert forests;

  Where beasts of prey had dens stands cot by cot.

  XXXIV

  “Broad acres bear the year’s hope, which aforetime

  Was whirled by storms about a sea unknown;

  And summer-showers and nightly dews are nursing

  Our wealth, which grew aforetime out of blood.

  XXXV

  “The earth is tamed, and tamed the human spirit,

  And worshipped is the berserk’s mood no more.

  Where ruled the sword now other powers are ruling;

  Where force was victor, victor now is law.

  XXXVI

  “Chaste manners are esteemed and mercy practised,

  While peaceful work receives its honour due.

  Thus Fialar’s might has put his realm in order.

  Say, shadows’ spokesman, is his oath fulfilled?

  XXXVII

  “But more; the threat that from thy Gods thou borest

  Has vanished into nothing, e’en as smoke.

  My son enclasps no sister in his bosom;

  Upon my head is weighing no disgrace.

  XXXVIII

  “The azure deep conceals my only daughter.

  But over regions of subjected waves,

  His father’s pride, the spotless, song-exalted

  Hialmar from triumph unto triumph speeds.

  XXXIX

  “But one more vow still unfulfilled remaineth;

  Yet that shall be fulfilled; my time is short.

  Come nearer, Dargar, and atone thine outrage;

  To expiate thy lie I crave thy blood!”

  XL

  The aged seer looked down upon the monarch,

  And thus he spake: “The burden of this life

  Must one day also lift from me, O Fialar,

  And none too soon will come to me my death.

  XLI

  “I have beheld enough of human fortune,

  Experienced enough of grief and joy,

  But one hour yet I may endure existence;

  That hour I crave, for thine own sake, O King!

  XLII

  “Delay revenge, till one more witness cometh

  Thy final triumph’s splendour to enhance.

  Delay, till Hialmar comes, his father’s honour.

  Not long to wait; he is not far away!”

  XLIII

  Thus spake he, and he held his peace, extending

  His calmly lifted arm towards the main.

  And Fialar’s men broke out in stormy shouting —

  “Lo, Gothfolk’s drakes with Hialmar heave in sight!”

  XLIV

  And Hialmar was in sight. His fleet s
ped lightly

  Along the blue path to the native strand.

  Each hour his sails shone nearer and yet nearer,

  And foam of waves played glittering at the stems.

  XLV

  With gladness beamed the looks of hoary warriors

  Who stood assembled on the lofty fell.

  The aged monarch’s face alone showed gloomy;

  And thoughtful, dark and hushed he viewed the ships.

  XLVI

  When port was gained, and shortened sails already

  Were hid from sight beneath the mountain crags,

  King Fialar’s glances fell again on Dargar,

  And, breaking silence, he resumed the word —

  XLVII

  Not yet I was prepared to see my Hialmur,

  Tor rumour sang that he was far away.

  But let none wonder if a wonder happen

  Upon the day I bid farewell to life.

  XLVIII

  “Thou spak’st of Hialmar. Mark me then, his coming

  Shall serve my triumph’s splendour to enhance.

  With Sun, and Sea, and Earth to bear the witness,

  Here shall he stand and judge between us twain.”

  XLIX

  And at the word came Hialmar. Unattended

  He climbed the rugged pathway of the crag;

  Not, as aforetime, weapon-decked and beaming,

  But with uncovered head, without a shield.

  L

  The pallor of his face was like the moonshine,

  In cloudless winter night, upon the snow.

  Weird he appeared as from the grave a spectre,

  And in his hand he bore a bloody sword.

  LI

  “Be welcome, son of mine!” Such was the greeting

  King Fialar uttered in a broken voice.

  “Fain had I seen thee with another aspect,

  But still, whate’er betides, thou art my joy.

  LII

  “Tell us the course of all thy deeds of prowess.

  In sooth, thou must have borne some heavy brunts.

  Hast wounds that drain the fountains of thy vigour?

  So quivering shows thy lip and white thy cheek.”

  LIII

  “O father,” answered Hialmar, “heavy fighting,

  Though not with weapons, I have had to bear.

  My coat of mail no steel has penetrated,

  Yet, deeply wounded, bleeds my heart to death.

  LIV

  “I ought to hide my count’nance from the daylight;

  For very shame I dare not meet thy gaze;

  And yet I yearned to lay my guilt before thee;

  Thus life I bore, and thus am breathing still.

  LV

  “I am undone. And yet a share of greatness

  Fell to my lot, though I was young in years.

  Ask history, and hark when bards are singing,

  And thou wilt understand what Hialmar was.

  LVI

  “The Northlands’ pride, the ocean’s king they called me;

  I sped about the world as speeds the storm;