Julia Clinton Jones - Valhalla - Part Fifth - Mimir's Well lyrics

In the dread Frost-Giants' dwelling, In the realm of Jötunheim, By the sacred Life Tree swelling, Filled with mysteries of Time, The Fountain sprang of Mimir wise, — Mimir, knowing good and ill,— While from those silver waves would rise Mists that watered Igdrasil. Thoughtful there sat Wisdom's son. Warder of the Well In whose waters dwell Future, past and present lore, From which Nornir evermore Deeply drank. He, knowing One, Whene'er the early dawn was breaking. And Jötunheim from sleep awaking, His constant thirst these waters slaking. Would his very heart-strings steep In full horn drawn from the deep. With silv'ry beard which far below His girdle fell in glist'ning flow. With wrinkled brow yet flashing eye, Sat Bragi old, stern Mimir nigh. He, worthy son of Odin high. Who held the gift of minstrelsy. When, sudden, from the sacred Well Up would light foam and vapor swell, Or when o'erlapping wave. Springing from deepest cave, Outflung its misty spray, Then to his golden harp would stray His quiv'ring hand, and forth would roll Such strains as straight enchant the soul And hold, spell-bound, the listener's ear : Rich runic rhymes Of olden times, High words of ancient lore, Deep words from wisdom's store;— While still thro' all the lofty measure, With soft sounds breathing clear Of Love's delight and godlike pleasure, Were mingled notes of woe, Tho' sadly, sweetly low, The burden, weird, unearthly wailing. As tho' doomed spirits, unavailing, Lost raptures mourned; then tones faint failing Would rise again, with harp high sounding. Thro' all the silent air resounding. And louder, longer e'er swelled high. Inspiring themes of poesy, — Deeds of the gods that yet should be, And deeds that were of Eld. By Bragi's deep-rune-written tongue Oft were such magic song-notes sung ; Oft with his harp, in vesture white. He would the Aesir proud delight. For Inspiration's power he held Hither came the awful Vala, Seeress from the land of Hela, Counsel wise to take; Here her thirst would slake. Often, too, came Aesir hither; Often sent the Jötuns whither Welled the fount of Wisdom fast, Draining deep the horn of Knowledge, Solving secrets of the Past. Vapors, rising from the Well's edge, Shadows of the Future cast. Now, great Odin, just and true, God of gods, on Asgard's hill, Tho' his ravens faithful flew, Bringing news from all earth through, Tho' he quaffed from Urda's bowl Wisdom's draughts that feast the soul, Tho' by Sökvabek he stayed With fair Saga, all-wise maid, — Knowledge still Lacked the God to right the ill. Anxious, troubled, full of thought To undo the evils wrought, Gloomy, grieving, Great God Odin Uprising from Valhalla's throne. Slow, the pillared Feast Hall leaving, Engraven deep with runes within. Sad, parting from those halls of light. Forth rode he out into the night, Down to dark Jötunheim alone. Rode he long and rode he fast. First, beneath the great Life Tree, At the sacred Spring, sought he Urdar, Norna of the Past; But her backward seeing eye Could no knowledge now supply. Across Verdandi's page there fell Dark shades that ever woes foretell; The shadows which 'round Asgard hung Their baleful darkness o'er it flung; The secret was not written there Might save Valhal, the pure and fair. Last, youngest of the sisters three, Skuld, Norna of Futurity, Implored to speak, stood silent by, — Averted was her tearful eye. And now, deprived of guiding light, Onward rode Odin thro' the night. When to the Fountain's brink he came. The God invoked the Sage's name. Arising slow Respect to show To Odin great, the Aesir chief, Stood Mimir wise, Whose piercing eyes Saw that the Father sought relief From some sharp trouble, fear or grief. Straight to him, then, Al-father spoke. With questioning words the silence broke. "Oh! all wise Mimir! Sprung of the Aesir, Wise wert thou e'er of old, Prophet and seer! unfold What mysteries the Fates may hold! Darkened Valhalla's hall. The gods, confounded all! Shame and disgrace o'er Asgard's race Hang like an evil shrouding pall. Where is our perfect quiet gone? Why has the peace of Asgard flown? Whence come the ills, the wrongs that fill With strife and care our happy Hill? Has yet a god wrought this disgrace? Or springs it from the Jötun race? Speak thou! for thou cans't tell! Speak! Watcher o'er the Well! For, by the oath of gods. Whatever rich rewards Thou seek, they shall be thine; — Thou hast my pledge divine!" Then spoke Mimir, stern and slow, Filling high his golden' horn, While deep murmurings, muttered low. Up from out the Well were borne, — Surges of all-knowing Time, Utt'ring faint their solemn chime: "Odin, drink! this beaker drain! Every drop a Fate shall be; Spill not one! great God, in vain Misty veil shall lift for thee. Yet e'er these waters can be thine, Sure pledge of payment must be mine;- Not helmet bright, nor corslet strong, For they to war and strife belong; No j**els rare, nor golden store; Thine eye in pledge leave evermore." "Uneven sway thy scales. Blind meekness ever fails To balance crafty strength, — The strength that springs from ill,-- Behold! at length From guile and lies Pure peace e'er flies. Strength is evil, vain is will. Meekness, weakness, — each is sin. While false Loki's brood within Ye shall cherish and shall nourish. Giving thus ill deeds to flourish. Be Loki's brood outcast, In deepest depths chained fast; Else on the cow'ring world Shall torments fierce be hurled! Ruined shall fall proud Asgard's wall, Void be each throne, — guestless each hall! Thro' the Serpent, Hel, and Fenrir Shall come destruction, deep and drear. But, battle with them as ye will, Dread Ragnarock thro' them comes still. Too long has Loki dwelt within, Too long have Aesir cherished sin; Too late! too late, great God! too late! Unchangeable the words of Fate. Ward off the ills, if so ye may, — But Ragnarock ye cannot stay! On Baldur's brilliant crest What shining glories rest! White vestured God! Love is his sword, Peace is his battle-cry! But even now false Loki waits Within the shade of Asgard's gates; Lo! even now the Tempter stands By Hoedur blind, with guiding hands. The hour is drawing nigh! Alas! full soon shall Asgard's light Be quenched and lost in blackest night! Then triumphs Loki base! Ravens his fearful race! Terrible shall be the hour When is loosed their baleful power! Thee, thee shall hideous Fenrir slay With cruel fangs that awful Day When Earth shall burn, gods pa** away. All this great Friga knoweth well. But heron's crown forbids to tell, — The pluméd crown, Forgetfulness, Condemns her lips to silentness. "Quaff once again, O God! But mark thou well each word. Not strength of Thor, or heart of Tyr, 'Gainst Serpent, Hel, or fierce Fenrir, Can aught alone. Let all Aesir Rise in their might, cast out to night Loki's foul brood; then, in the light Of Justice high, let judgment fall With equal measure upon all. Restored Valhalla's purity, Thus Ragnarock delayed may be. Return thou, Odin, e'er too late! Hear, and obey the words of Fate." So ended Mimir, while the swell Of sigh-like murmurs from the well Ceased with his voice; then all was still. Back Odin rode to Asgard's Hill, Where, in Valhalla's shield-hung hall, Assembled were the Aesir all To learn what might from Fate befall. Again, when early dawn was breaking. And Jötunheim from sleep awaking, Then Mimir, in the morn's first glowing. Going to the fountain's edge. Drank ever of the clear mead flowing In his horn, o'er Odin's pledge.