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High blows Heimdallr, the
horn is aloft;
Odin communes with
Mímir's head;
Trembles Yggdrasill's towering
Ash;
The old tree wails when
the Ettin is loosed.
What of the Æsir? What
of the Elf-folk?
All jötunheim echoes, the Æsir
are at council;
The dwarves are groaning before
their stone doors,
Wise in rock-walls; wit
ye yet, or what?
Hrymr sails from the east, the
sea floods onward;
The monstrous Beast twists
in mighty wrath;
The Snake beats the waves, the
Eagle is screaming;
The gold-neb tears corpses, Naglfar
is loosed.
From the east sails the keel; come
now Múspell's folk
Over the sea-waves, and
Loki steereth;
There are the warlocks all
with the Wolf,—
With them is the brother of
Býleistr
faring.
[81]
Surtr fares from southward with
switch-eating flame;
On his sword shimmers the
sun of the war-gods;
The rocks are falling, and
fiends are reeling,
Heroes tread Hel-way, heaven
is cloven.
Then to the Goddess a
second grief cometh,
When Odin fares to
fight with the Wolf,
And Beli's slayer, the
bright god, with Surtr;
There must fall Frigg's
beloved.
Odin's son goeth to
strife with the Wolf,
Vídarr, speeding to
meet the slaughter-beast;
The sword in his hand to
the heart he thrusteth
Of the fiend's offspring; avenged
is his Father.
Now goeth Hlödyn's glorious
son
Not in flight from the Serpent, of
fear unheeding;
All the earth's offspring must
empty the homesteads,
When furiously smiteth Midgard's
defender.
The sun shall be darkened, earth
sinks in the sea,—
Glide from the heaven the
glittering stars;
Smoke-reek rages and
reddening fire:
The high heat licks against
heaven itself.
And here it says yet so:
Vígrídr hight the field where
in fight shall meet
Surtr and the cherished gods;
An hundred leagues it has on each side:
Unto them that field is fated.”
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