And now, forsooth, I tell ye,
Who listen to my strain,
That such a set of brothers
Will ne’er be seen again.
SVEND VONVED.
FROM THE OLD DANISH.
Grimm, in the preface to his German translation of the Kiæmpé Viser, characterizes this Ballad in the following magnificent words:—
“Seltsam ist das Lied von dem Held Vonved. Unter dem Empfang des Zauberseegens und mit räthselhaften Worten, dass er nie wiederkehre oder dann den Tod seines Vaters rächen müsse, reitet er aus. Lange sieht er keine Stadt und keinen Menschen, dann, wer sich ihm entgegen stelit, den wirft er nieder, den Hirten legt er seine Räthsel vor über das edelste und abscheuungswürdigste, übar den Gang der Sonne und die Ruhe des Todten: wer sie nicht Iöst, den erschlägt er; trotzig sitzt er unter den Helden, ihre Anerbietungen gefallen ihm nicht, er reitet heim, erschlägt zwölf Zauberweiber, die ihm entgegen kommen, dann seine Mutter, endlich zernichtet er auch sein Saitenspiel, damit kein Wohllaut mehr den wilden Sinn besänftige. Es scheint dieses Lied vor allen in einer eigenen Bedeutung gedichtet, und den Mismuth eines zerstörten herumirrenden Gemüths anzuzeigen, das seine Räthsel will gelöst haben: es ist die Angst eines Menschen darin ausgedrückt, der die Flügel, die er fühlt, nicht frei bewegen kann, und der, wenn ihn diese Angst peinigt, gegen alles, auch gegen sein Liebstes, wüthen muss. Dieser Charakter scheint dem Norden gantz eigenthümlich; in dem seltsamen Leben Königs Sigurd des Jerusalemfahrers, auch in Shakspeare’s Hamlet ist etwas ähnliches.”
“Singular is the song of the hero Vonved. After having received the magic blessing, he rides out, darkly hinting that he must never return, or have avenged the death of his father. For a long time he sees no city and no man; he then overthrows whomsoever opposes him; he lays his enigmas before the herdsmen, concerning that which is most grand, and that which is most horrible; concerning the course of the sun and the repose of the dead; he who cannot explain them is slaughtered. Haughtily he sits among the heroes—their invitations do not please him—he rides home—slays twelve sorceresses who come against him—then his mother, and at last he demolishes his harp, so that no sweet sound shall in future soften his wild humour. This song, more than any of the rest, seems to be composed with a meaning of its own; and shows the melancholy of a ruined, wandering mind, which will have its enigmas cleared up! The anguish of a man is expressed therein, who cannot move freely the wings which he feels; and, who, when this anguish torments him, is forced to deal out destruction against all—even against his best-beloved. Such a character seems to be quite the property of the North. In the strange life of King Sigurd, the wanderer to Jerusalem, and likewise in Shakspeare’s Hamlet, there is something similar.”
Svend Vonved sits in his lonely bower;
He strikes his harp with a hand of power;
His harp return’d a responsive din;
Then came his mother hurrying in:
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
In came his mother Adeline,
And who was she, but a queen, so fine:
“Now hark, Svend Vonved! out must thou ride,
And wage stout battle with knights of pride.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
“Avenge thy father’s untimely end;
To me, or another, thy gold harp lend;
This moment boune [8] thee, and straight begone!
I rede [9] thee, do it, my own dear son.”
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
Svend Vonved binds his sword to his side;
He fain will battle with knights of pride.
“When may I look for thee once more here?
When roast the heifer, and spice the beer?”
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
“When stones shall take, of themselves, a flight,
And ravens’ feathers are woxen [10] white,
Then may’st thou expect Svend Vonved home:
In all my days, I will never come.”
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
His mother took that in evil part:
“I hear, young gallant, that mad thou art;
Wherever thou goest, on land or sea,
Disgrace and shame shall attend on thee.”
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.