victory should be attributed to superiority of numbers. It was held unmanly to decline a combat, however unequal; for courage, it was thought, rendered all men equal. The shedding tears was unmanly, even for the death of friends.
The Scandinavians were sensible in a<467> high degree to praise and reproach; for love of fame was their darling passion. Olave, King of Norway, placing three of his scalds or bards around him in a battle, “You shall not relate,” said he, “what you have only heard, but what you are eye-witnesses of.” Upon every occasion we find them insisting upon glory, honour, and contempt of death, as leading principles. The bare suspicion of cowardice was attended with universal contempt: a man who lost his buckler, or received a wound behind, durst never again appear in public. Frotho King of Denmark, made captive in a battle, obstinately refused either liberty or life. “To what end,” says he, “should I survive the disgrace of being made a captive? Should you even restore to me my sister, my treasure, and my kingdom, would these benefits restore me to my honour? Future ages will always have to say, that Frotho was taken by his enemy”(a).
Much efficacy is above ascribed to the songs of Caledonian bards; and with satisfaction I find my observations justified<468> in every Scandinavian history. The Kings of Denmark, Norway, and Sweden, are represented in ancient chronicles as constantly attended with scalds or bards, who were treated with great respect, especially by princes distinguished in war. Harold Harfager at his feasts placed them above all his other officers; and employed them in negociations of the greatest importance. The poetic art, held in great estimation, was cultivated by men of the first rank. Rogvald, Earl of Orkney, passed for an able poet. King Regnar was distinguished in poetry, no less than in war. It was the proper province of bards in Scandinavia, as in other countries, to celebrate in odes the atchievements of deceased heroes. They were frequently employed in animating the troops before a battle. Hacon, Earl of Norway, in his famous engagement against the warriors of Iomsburg, had five celebrated poets, each of whom sung an ode to the soldiers ready to engage. Saxo Grammaticus, describing a battle between Waldemar and Sueno, mentions a scald belonging to the former, who, advancing to the front of the<469> army, reproached the latter in a pathetic ode as the murderer of his own father.
The odes of the Scandinavian bards have a peculiar energy; which is not difficult to be accounted for. The propensity of the Scandinavians to war, their love of glory, their undaunted courage, and their warlike exploits, naturally produced elevated sentiments, and an elevated tone of language; both of which were displayed in celebrating heroic deeds. Take the following instances. The first is from the Edda, which contains the birth and genealogy of their Gods.
The giant Rymer arrives from the east, carried in a chariot: the great serpent, rolling himself furiously in the waters, lifteth up the sea. The eagle screams, and with his horrid beak tears the dead. The vessel of the gods is set afloat. The black prince of fire issues from the south, surrounded with flames: the swords of the gods beam like the sun: shaken are the rocks, and fall to pieces. The female giants wander about weeping: men in crouds tread the paths of death. Heaven is split asunder, the sun darkened, and the earth sunk in<470> the ocean. The shining stars vanish: the fire rages: the world draws to an end; and the flame ascending licks the vault of heaven. From the bosom of the waves an earth emerges, clothed with lovely green: the floods retire: the fields produce without culture: misfortunes are banished from the world. Balder and his brother, gods of war, return to inhabit the ruin’d palace of Odin. A palace more resplendent than the sun, rises now to view; adorned with a roof of gold: there good men shall inhabit; and live in joy and pleasure through all ages.
In a collection of ancient historical monuments of the north, published by Bioner, a learned Swede, there is the following passage. “Grunder, perceiving Grymer rushing furiously through opposing battalians, cries aloud, Thou alone remainest to engage with me in single combat. It is now thy turn to feel the keenness of my sword. Their sabres, like dark and threatening clouds, hang dreadful in the air. Grymer’s weapon darts down like a thunderbolt: their swords furiously strike: they are bathed in gore. Grymer cleaves the<471> casque of his enemy, hews his armour in pieces, and pours the light into his bosom. Grunder sinks to the ground; and Grymer gives a dreadful shout of triumph.” This picture is done with a masterly hand. The capital circumstances are judiciously selected; and the narration is compact and rapid. Indulge me with a moment’s pause to compare this picture with one or two in Ossian’s manner. “As Autumn’s dark storms pour from two echoing hills; so to each other approach the heroes. As from high rocks two dark streams meet, and mix and roar on the plain; so meet Lochlin and Innis-fail, loud, rough, and dark in battle. Chief mixes his strokes with chief, and man with man; steel sounds on steel, helmets are cleft on high. Blood bursts, and smoaks around. Strings murmur on the polished yew. Darts rush along the sky. Spears fall like sparks of flame that gild the stormy face of night. As the noise of the troubled ocean when roll the waves on high, as the last peal of thundering heaven, such is the noise of battle. Tho’ Cormac’s hundred bards<472> were there, feeble were the voice of an hundred bards to send the deaths to future times; for many were the heroes who fell, and wide poured the blood of the valiant.” Again, “As roll a thousand waves to the rocks, so came on Swaran’s host: as meets a rock a thousand waves, so Innis-fail met Swaran. The voice of death is heard all around, and mixes with the sound of shields. Each hero is a pillar of darkness, and the sword a beam of fire in his hand. From wing to wing echoes the field, like a hundred hammers that rise by turns on the red sun of the furnace. Who are those on Lena’s heath, so gloomy and dark? they are like two clouds, and their swords lighten above. Who is it but Ossian’s son and the car-borne chief of Erin?” These two descriptions make a deeper impression, and swell the heart more than the former: they are more poetical by short similes finely interwoven; and the images are far more lofty. And yet Ossian’s chief talent is sentiment, in which Scandinavian bards are far inferior: in the generosity, tenderness, <473> and humanity of his sentiments, he has not a rival.
The ancient Scandinavians were undoubtedly a barbarous people, compared with the southern nations of Europe; but that they were far from being gross savages, may be gathered from a poem still extant, named Havamaal; or, The sublime discourse of Odin. Tho’ that poem is of great antiquity, it is replete with good lessons and judicious reflections; of which the following are a specimen.
Happy he who gains the applause and good will of men.
Love your friends, and love also their friends.
Be not the first to break with your friend: sorrow gnaws the heart of him who has not a single friend to advise with.
Where is the virtuous man that hath not a failing? Where is the wicked man that hath not some good quality?
Riches take wing; relations die: you yourself shall die. One thing only is out of the reach of fate; which is, the judgement that passes on the dead.
There is no malady more severe than the being discontented with one’s lot.<474>
Let not a man be overwise nor overcurious: if he would sleep in quiet, let him not seek to know his destiny.
While we live, let us live well: a man lights his fire, but before it be burnt out death may enter.
A coward dreams that he may live for ever: if he should escape every other weapon, he cannot escape old age.
The flocks know when to retire from pasture: the glutton knows not when to retire from the feast.
The lewd and dissolute make a mock of every thing, not considering how much they deserve to be mocked.
The best provision for a journey, is strength of understanding: more useful than treasure, it welcomes one to the table of the stranger.
Hitherto the manners of the Scandinavians resemble in many capital circumstances those delineated in the works of Ossian. I lay not, however, great
