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Skaldic Poetry of the Scandinavian Middle Ages

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Lausavísur — Mberf LvII

Magnús berfœttr Óláfsson

Kari Ellen Gade 2009, ‘ Magnús berfœttr Óláfsson, Lausavísur’ in Kari Ellen Gade (ed.), Poetry from the Kings’ Sagas 2: From c. 1035 to c. 1300. Skaldic Poetry of the Scandinavian Middle Ages 2. Turnhout: Brepols, pp. 385-90. <https://skaldic.org/m.php?p=text&i=1305> (accessed 27 April 2024)

 

Auð hefk minn, þanns mǫnnum
margteitum réðk veita,
— húf létk kløkkvan klífa
kolgur — illa folginn.
 
‘I have invested my wealth, which I gave to my most cheerful men, unwisely; I let the flexible hull climb the breakers.
Villat * flokk várn fylla?
Falsk riddari inn valski?
 
‘Does he not wish to complete our company? Was the Norman knight hiding?
Sús ein, es mér meinar,
Maktildr, ok vekr hildi
— már drekkr suðr ór sôrum
sveita — leik ok teiti.
Sá kennir mér svanni,
sín lǫnd es verr rǫndu,
— sverð bitu Hǫgna hurðir —
hvítjarpr sofa lítit.
 
‘There is one, Maktildr, who denies me fun and pleasure and stirs up strife; in the south the seagull of gore [RAVEN/EAGLE] drinks from wounds. That lady with the light-brown hair, who defends her lands with the shield, teaches me to sleep but little; swords bit the doors of Hǫgni <legendary hero> [SHIELDS].
Hvats í heimi betra
— hyggr skald af þrô sjaldan —
— mjǫks langr, sás dvelr drengi,
dagr — an víf in fǫgru?
Þungan berk af þingi
þann harm, es skalk svanna
— skreytask menn á móti —
minn aldrigi finna.
 
‘What’s better in this world than fair women? The poet seldom forgets his yearning; the day which delays men is very long. I carry that heavy care from the assembly, that I shall never meet my woman; men dress up at the meeting.
Jǫrp mun eigi verpa
arm-Hlín* á glæ sínum;
orð spyrk gollhrings Gerðar
góð of skald í hljóði.
Annk, þótt eigi finnak
opt, goðvefjar þoptu;
viti menn, at hykk hennar
hôla rœkðarmôlum.
 
‘The brown-haired Hlín <goddess> of the arm [WOMAN] will not throw away her [words] to no avail; I hear in secret the kind words of the Gerðr <goddess> of the gold ring [WOMAN] about the skald. I love the thwart of precious cloth [WOMAN], although I don’t often meet [her]; let men know that I think very highly of her caring comments.
Hvat skulum heimfǫr kvitta?
Hugrs minn í Dyflinni,
enn til Kaupangs kvinna
kømkat austr í hausti.
Unik, þvít eigi synjar
ingjan gamansþinga;
œrskan veldr, þvít írskum
annk betr an mér svanna.
 
‘Why should we talk of the journey home? My heart is in Dublin, and I shall not return east to the women of Trondheim this autumn. I am content, because the girl does not deny me meetings of pleasure; youth causes [it], for I love the Irish woman better than myself.
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