Baldrs draumar, a reading
Episode Stats
Harmful content
Misogyny
2
sentences flagged
Hate speech
1
sentences flagged
Summary
Baldur s Draumer is a short poem by the ancient Norwegian poet Baldur, written in the late twelfth century. It is a continuation of the older poem, the Trimskvita, written by the same author.
Transcript
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Baldur's drama is found only in the Armagnian Codex, where it follows the Harbosley oaths fragments.
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It is preserved in various late paper manuscripts with the title Vektomskvitha, The Lay of Vektom, which has been used by some editors.
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The poem, which contains but fourteen stanzas, has apparently been preserved in excellent condition.
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Its subject matter and style link get closely with the Voluspa.
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Four of the five lines of stanza 11 appear almost without change in the Voluspa of the lines 32-33,
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and the entire poem is simply an elaboration of the episode outlined in those in the preceding stanzas.
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It has been suggested that Baldur's drama and the Voluspa may have been by the same author.
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There is also enough similarity in style between Baldur's drama and the Trimskvita
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to give color to Vicfusson's guess that these two poems have a common authorship.
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In any case, Balazsdrauman presumably assumed its present form not later than the first half of the 10th century.
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Whether the vulva or wise woman of the poem is identical with the speaker under Voluspa is purely a matter for conjecture.
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Nothing definitively opposes such an opposition.
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As in the longer poem, she foretells the fall of the gods,
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so in this case she prophesies the first incident of the fall, the death of Baldr.
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Here, she is called up from the dead by Odin, anxious to know the meaning of Baldr's evil dreams,
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and the Voluspa is likewise intimated that the Volva has arisen from the grave.
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The poem, like most of the others in the collection, is essentially dramatic rather than narrative,
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summarizing a story which was doubtless familiar to everyone who heard the poem recited.
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Once were the gods together met, and the goddesses came, and counsel held, and the far-faint
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ones the truth would find, why baleful dreams to Balder had come.
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Then olden arose, and then chanted her old, and the saddle he laid on slit near his back,
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Then rode he down to the niffel deep In the hound he met that came from hell.
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Bloody he was on his breast before, At the father of magic he howled from afar.
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Forward rode Odin, the earth resounded, To the house so high of hell he reached.
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Then Odin rode to the eastern door, There he knew well it was the wise woman's grave.
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he spoke in mighty charms till spellbound she arose and in death she spoke what is the man to me unknown
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that had made me travel the troublous road i was snowed on with snow and smitten with rain
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and drenched with dew long was i dead odin spake
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Vegtam, my name, I am Vardtam's son, Speak thou of hell, for of heaven I know.
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For whom are the benches, bright with rings, And the platforms gay, bedecked with gold?
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The wise woman spake, Here for Badr the mead is brewed,
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The shining drink in the shield lies o'er it, But their hope is gone from the mighty
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Odin spake, Wise woman seeks not, I seek from thee all to know that I fain would ask,
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What shall the bane of Balder become, And steal the life from out and sun?
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The wise woman spake, Hot dither bears the far fain branch,
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shall the bane of balder become and steal the life from odin's son unwilling i spake and now would be
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still odin spake wise woman seeks not i seek from thee all to know that i fain would ask
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who shall vengeance win for the evil work or bring the flames of balder the slayer
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the wise woman spake rin bears folly invest their salir and one night old fights odin's son
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he hands he shall not wash his hair he shall not comb to the slayer of bother he brings to
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the flames unwilling i spake and now it would be still odin spake wise woman cease not i seek
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from thee, all to know that a fain would ask. What maidens are they, who then shall weep
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and toss to the sky the yards of the sails?"
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Vectum thou art not, as erstwhile I thought. Odin thou art the enchanted old.
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No, wise woman art thou, no wisdom hast, Of giants three, the mother art thou.
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Home, Ra'oden, be ever proud, For no one man shall seek me more,
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Till Loki wanders loose from his bonds, And to the last strife the destroyers come.