by Tom Birkett
rural, caused him a number of difficulties which I have set out in this piece. We may
never know very precisely how and why Hardy came to engage with this material.
Perhaps it was simply the unexpected appeal of a fresh alternative to the well-worn
themes of classical literature which had always dominated the English tradition,
and in which Hardy himself was steeped. But what I have called the powerful ‘erotic
charge’ of the Old Norse sources, the unexpectedly expressive emotionalism of its
larger-than-life tragic characters, must surely have played a part in Hardy’s engage-
ment with them. What is certain, however, is that for Hardy, as for many other
writers in English – and appropriately enough, poets in particular - the extraordi-
nary artistic vibrancy and literary accomplishment of Old Norse literature proved
an irresistible influence.
53 Andrew Wawn, The Vikings and the Victorians: Inventing the Old North in Nineteenth-Century Britain (Cambridge, 2000) .
12
Michael Hirst’s Vikings and Old Norse Poetry
Gareth Lloyd Evans
From their very beginnings, Old Norse myth and poetry have been worked
and reworked, written and rewritten, interpreted and reinterpreted, across a
range of media. Various runestones, particularly from Sweden, depict scenes
from myth and legend which are also recounted in the Poetic Edda.1 The eddic
poetry of the Volsung cycle, to take one example among many, is found preserved
– partial y – within Vǫlsunga saga. Here, not only do a number of stanzas cited in the saga come from eddic poems but also Vǫlsunga saga itself is largely a prose retelling of the eddic Volsung sources.2 Slightly later in Icelandic literary history rímur (long stanzaic narrative poems) emerge as a literary form. Three cycles of rímur – Vǫlsungs rímur, Þrymlur and Lokrur – find their inspiration in eddic and heroic sources.3 Furthermore, the development of the rímur form itself was at least partial y influenced – in terms of ‘style, diction, and metrics’ – by the conventions
of both eddic and skaldic poetry.4 A range of English poetry – from the medieval to
the modern – shows the clear influence of Old Norse sources.5 O’Donoghue’s study
of The Return of the Native in this volume makes clear the influence of Old Norse poetry on one particular English author, and a number of novels, ranging from the
high fantasy of J. R. R. Tolkien to the young adult fiction of Melvin Burgess, also
owe a great debt to medieval Norse material.6 Comics and graphic novels, too, have
1 For example, the runestone U 1161 from Altuna depicts Þórr fishing for the
Miðgarðsormr, Jǫrmungandr, as recounted in the eddic poem Hymiskviða. See Hilda Ellis Davidson, The Lost Beliefs of Northern Europe (London, 2002), pp. 50–4.
2 Elizabeth Ashman Rowe, ‘ Fornaldarsǫgur and Heroic Legends of the Edda’, in
Revisiting the Poetic Edda: Essays on Old Norse Heroic Legend, ed. P. Acker and C. Larrington (London, 2013), pp. 202–18, at p. 202.
See also R. G. Finch, ‘ Vǫlsunga saga’, in Medieval Scandinavia: An Encyclopedia, ed. Phillip Pulsiano and Kirsten Wolf (London, 1993), p. 711.
3 Vésteinn Ólasson and Sverrir Tómasson, ‘The Middle Ages’, in A History of Icelandic Literature, ed. Daisy L. Neijmann (London, 2006), pp. 1–173, at p. 58.
4 Margaret Clunies Ross, A History of Old Norse Poetry and Poetics (Cambridge, 2005), p. 6.5 Heather O’Donoghue, English Poetry and Old Norse Myth: A History (Oxford, 2014).
Also see the chapter in this volume by Heather O’Donoghue.
6 For an overview of Tolkien’s relationship with, and use of, Old Norse see Tom
Birkett, ‘Old Norse’, in A Companion to J. R. R. Tolkien, ed. Stuart D. Lee (Chichester, 2014),
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Gareth Lloyd Evans
drawn on material from Norse myth and legend.7 Norse material has also inspired a
range of musical works, ranging from Richard Wagner’s operatic Ring cycle to viking metal.8 Literal translation has kept Old Norse poetry alive, in myriad languages, for hundreds of years.9 But translation – whether literal, cultural or both – is not limited to the plastic, the graphic, the musical or the textual. The twentieth and twenty-first centuries have given rise to a number of cinematic works that are either inspired by
Norse material or can be regarded as adaptations of it. These include, but of course
are not limited to: the silent film The Viking (1928); The Vikings (1958), based on Edison Marshal ’s novel The Viking (1951); The Virgin Spring (1960); Útlaginn (1981), an adaptation of Gísla saga; the animated film Asterix and the Vikings (2006); the alien science-fiction film Outlander (2008); Valhal a Rising (2009); and Thor (2011) and Thor: The Dark World (2013), both based on Marvel Comics’s The Mighty Thor.
Television programmes tend not to have the sustained focus on Norse material
that is found in many productions for the big screen. Thus, we may find occasional
references to figures from Norse myth and legend in series as diverse as Stargate
SG-1 (1997–2007) and Hercules: The Legendary Journeys (1995–1999; the fifth season includes the episodes ‘Norse by Norsevest’ and ‘Somewhere over the Rainbow
Bridge’), although such references are largely superficial. The most recent instance
of adaptation for the small screen, however, is constant in its focus on Norse mate-
rial (and in its use of Old Norse poetry), coming in the form of Michael Hirst’s
historical drama, Vikings. It is this series which will be the focus of this chapter.10
Vikings follows the lives of Ragnar Lothbrok and his family, as Ragnar rises from his humble beginnings as a farmer to become the king of Denmark.11 The series
has clearly been inspired by a number of medieval prose sources including the thir-
teenth-century fornaldarsaga Ragnars saga loðbrókar and Saxo Grammaticus’ Gesta Danorum, but Old Norse poems – both eddic and skaldic – are also of clear importance. This chapter will examine in detail some scenes in which Old Norse poetry
is featured, discussing both literal and cultural translations. It will focus predomi-
nantly on the adaptation of three eddic poems – Vǫluspá, Grímnismál and Hávamál
– but will also look at the transformation of a small number of other poems.
pp. 244–58. For Melvin Burgess’s use of Old Norse material in his novels Bloodtide and Bloodsong see Jessica Clare Hancock, ‘Beyond Sorrow and Swords: Gender in the Old Norse Völsung Legend and its British Rewritings’, unpublished D.Phil. thesis, University of Oxford, 2014, chapter 5, section 2, esp. pp. 231–49.
7 Heather O’Donoghue, From Asgard to Valhal a: The Remarkable History of the Norse Myths (London, 2007), pp. 197–9.
8 Ibid., pp. 132–45 and 195–7.
9 On the translation history of eddic poems from a practitioner’s perspective, see
Carolyne Larrington, ‘Translating the Poetic Edda into English’, in Old Norse Made New, ed. David Clark and Carl Phelpstead (London, 2007), pp. 21–42, and Carolyne Larrington’s contribution to this volume.
10 This chapter takes into account the first three seasons of Vikings, Dir. Michael Hirst (MGM Television / History Channel, 2013–). At the time of writing, the fourth season is yet to be released.
11 I here use the Anglicised character names as used in the series to refer to characters within the world of Vikings. Where referring to characters within medieval texts, or to historical personages, I retain the medieval form of names.
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201
Vǫluspá and Grímnismál: Fate, Betrayal and Apocalypse The eddic poem that seems to have had the greatest impact upon Vikings is Vǫluspá.
Often known in English as ‘The Seeress’
Prophecy’, Vǫluspá is the first poem found in the Codex Regius manuscript of the Poetic Edda, and is of vital importance to
our understanding of Old Norse mythology. The poem, a monologue spoken by an
ancient vǫlva (‘seeress’ or ‘prophetess’), spans the chronological totality of Norse mythology, from the origins of the world and the gods, through the destruction of
both at Ragnarǫk, to the birth of a new world and new gods. The influences of this
poem upon the world – and indeed, dialogue – of Vikings are manifold, ranging
from character interaction to direct quotation.
The dramatic situation implied between the vǫlva and Óðinn in Vǫluspá seems to have influenced the way in which interactions between various characters and the
‘Seer’ of Kattegat are conceived of and structured in Vikings. In Vǫluspá, although it is only the vǫlva who speaks, it is clear that we are to understand that the vǫlva’s knowledge and prophecies unfold in an interrogative situation, with Óðinn as her interlocutor. This becomes apparent from the very first stanza, in which the vǫlva states that ‘Vildo at ek, Valfǫðr, / vel fyr telia / forn spiǫll fira, / þau er fremst um man’ (‘You wish me, Sire of the Slain, / well to narrate / the world’s old news, / such as I remember from remotest times’).12 This situation is reinforced throughout the
poem, most forceful y in the vǫlva’s frequent refrain of ‘Vitoð ér enn, eða hvat?’ (‘Do you still seek to know? And what?’)13 There are clear parallels between this interrogative situation in Vǫluspá and those exchanges that take place between the Seer and his visitors in Vikings. The most basic point of similarity between the two texts lies in the type of wisdom being sought: in both Vǫluspá and Vikings, it is knowledge of the future that is desired, and it is in prophecy that both the vǫlva and the Seer deal. Just as in the relationship between Óðinn and the vǫlva in Vǫluspá, there also appears to be an element of confrontation evident in the interactions between
the Seer and those who seek his counsel in Vikings. In the final episode of the first season, for example, Lagertha seeks wisdom from the Seer about her own and her
husband’s futures. In spite of the Seer’s reluctance to prophesy, Lagertha insists that he do so, demanding that he ‘Tell [her]!’ This mirrors the assumed dramatic situation of Vǫluspá in which it appears that Óðinn forces and/or bribes the vǫlva to interact with him.14 Following Lagertha’s demand that the Seer divine the future for
her, the Seer at first reacts defiantly, demanding of her: ‘Why must you all force me
up, and unearth me to sorrows?’ (8:58–9:02) The Seer’s defiance here is mirrored in
stanza 28 of Vǫluspá, in which the vǫlva demands of Óðinn: ‘Hvers fregnið mik? /
Hví freistið mín?’ (‘What do you ask me? Why do you try me?’).15 It is not just in
its defiance that the Seer’s response to Lagertha finds a parallel in Vǫluspá, however.
12 Text and translation from Ursula Dronke, ed. and trans., ‘ Vǫluspá’, in The Poetic Edda, Volume II: Mythological Poems (Oxford, 1997), pp. 7–21, at p. 7.
13 Dronke, ‘ Vǫluspá’, first appearing at st. 27 (ibid., p. 14).
14 Evidence for such bribery may be found in stanza 29 of Vǫluspá, where we learn that
‘Valði henne Herfǫðr / hringa ok men. / Fé[kk] spiǫll spaklig / ok spáganda’ (War Sire chose for her / rings and necklaces. / He got wise news / and spirits of prophecy), ibid., p. 15.
15 Ibid., p. 14.
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The Seer’s words – suggesting that he has been ‘forced up’ and ‘unearthed’ – imply
that, in some sense, we are to perhaps understand the Seer as deceased, much like
the vǫlva of Vǫluspá. This is most clearly suggested of the vǫlva in the final line of the final stanza of Vǫluspá, where we are told that ‘Nú mun hón søkkvaz’ (‘Now will she sink’) – the implication being ‘back into the grave’.16 Although here in Vǫluspá it is only implied that the vǫlva is dead, in other medieval Norse texts it is made explicit that vǫlur are able to speak from beyond the grave.17 The many other interactions between the Seer and the inhabitants of Kattegat unfold similarly, and reso-
nate with the situation between prophetess and interlocutor as given in Vǫluspá.
There are differences between the representations found in the two texts, of course
– not least the fact that in Vikings the function of divine medium has been figured as a male rather than a female role – but there are nevertheless compelling similarities.
By drawing on Vǫluspá – and by making the prophecies of the Seer of such clear importance to the inhabitants of Kattegat – the viewer is given the sense that there
is an inevitability to proceedings and that narrative events are to be understood as
fated. To those viewers aware of the content of Vǫluspá – and moreover, that Vikings is drawing upon Vǫluspá in its representation of the Seer – the figure of the Seer becomes a foreboding symbol of doom.
The character of the Seer also enables the viewer to gain an insight into the reli-
gious and spiritual beliefs of the other characters. This is most explicitly seen in
episode six of the first season. Here, the Northumbrian monk Athelstan – at this
point residing in Kattegat – asks about Ragnarǫk. The Seer describes it thus:
The Twilight of the Gods will happen like this. There will be three years of terrible
winters and summers of black sunlight. People will lose all hope and surrender to
greed, incest, and civil war. Midgardsormen, the world’s serpent, will come lunging
from the ocean, dragging the tides in and flooding the world. The wolf, giant Fenrir,
will break his invisible chains. The skies will open, and Surt, the fire-giant, will come flaming across the bridge to destroy the gods. Odin will ride out of the gates of Valhal a to do battle for a last time against the wolf. Thor will kill the serpent but die from its venom. Surt will spread fire across the earth. At last, Fenrir will swallow the sun.
(36:47–38:10)
To viewers familiar with Old Norse mythology, the description appears largely in
accordance with medieval sources. It is clear that here Vikings is drawing upon the account of Ragnarǫk as given in chapter 51 of Snorri Sturluson’s Gylfaginning, a chapter which itself explicitly draws on Vǫluspá for mythological detail. What is particularly interesting here, however, is that Ragnarǫk – as imagined by Vikings –
appears to be a purely apocalyptic event. This differs significantly from the medieval sources; in both Vǫluspá and Gylfaginning the world is born anew after Ragnarǫk.18
16 Ibid., p. 24.
17 Judy Quinn, ‘Dialogue with a vǫlva: Vǫluspá, Baldrs draumar, and Hyndluljóð’, in The Poetic Edda: Essays on Old Norse Mythology, ed. Paul Acker and Carolyne Larrington (London, 2002), pp. 245–74.
18 Dronke, ed. and trans., ‘ Vǫluspá’, sts 56–21 (pp. 23–4); Snorri Sturluson, Edda: Prologue and Gylfaginning, ed. Anthony Faulkes (London, 2005), pp. 53–4.
Vikings and Old Norse Poetry
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By omitting this note of post-apocalyptic hope, Vikings effectively portrays Old Norse mythology as whol y pessimistic and death-driven. In choosing to adapt
the myths of Ragnarǫk in this way, Hirst produces in Vikings an image of an Old Norse belief system that accords with popular perceptions of Old Norse culture as
fatalistic.
It is not simply through oblique al usion that Vǫluspá is drawn on in Vikings.
At times, the poem is quoted directly. In the sixth episode of the third season,
for example, stanzas from Vǫluspá form the lyrics for a song performed by Einar Selvik. The song begins as an on-screen performance – Selvik is seen as a musician performing in the background of a scene – but then it becomes background
music for a number of other events which are interspersed in cut scenes with Selvik’s
performance. To a viewer unaware of the significance – or, indeed, content – of
Selvik’s lyrics (which are performed in Old Norse), the music appears simply as
an appropriately ominous and ‘medieval-sounding’ piece of background music.
Indeed, as the music is performed, the Scandinavian settlement at Wessex has fallen,
Lagertha has lost her earldom, Bjorn is about to be unfaithful to Þórunn, and Floki
kil s Athelstan. The music, at once mournful and foreboding, thus seems whol y
appropriate. But to those viewers who might recognise that the lyrics derive from
Vǫluspá, the song adds further significance to the narrative’s events. The lyrics tell of Ragnarǫk – of the sun blackening, of the land sinking into the sea, of the stars being extinguished, of the world-tree Yggradsill quaking19 – and these apocalyptic
visions become entwined with the ill-fates that are befalling various characters in
the narrative of Vikings. By association, we are perhaps to read these happenings not merely as unrelated negative events in the biographies of individual characters, but
also as predestined harbingers of a worse fate to come. The use of these apocalyptic
stanzas from Vǫluspá as a source for background music here, then, encourages us to infer that fate – and a troubling fate at that – is at work behind the events of Vikings.
Moreover, the appropriateness of the stanzas used here – despite not being trans-
lated into English – perhaps suggests something particular about the translation
and adaptation of Old Norse poetry for televisual media. Literal translation into a
target language intelligible to the audience, in this instance at least, seems to have been unnecessary; the context of the performance in Vikings enables the audience to infer the valency – if not the precise meaning – of the lyrics. That being said, the Old Norse poetry that has here been used for lyrics has clearly been chosen with
great care. Although a literal translation into English has not taken place in this