The Ballad of the Dream
I
Hark unto me, a tale I’ll tell of a young man bold and strong,
a tale of Olav Åsteson, who slept a sleep so long.
On Christmas Eve he laid him down, he soon fell fast asleep,
he did not wake till past Twelfth Night when folk their church shall
keep.
And
it was Olav Åsteson, who slept a sleep so long.
On Christmas Eve he laid him down, his sleep no one could break,
he did not wake till past Twelfth Night when birds their wings did
shake.
He did not wake till past Twelfth Night, when it was morning tide,
Then did he saddle his fine steed and off to church did ride.
The priest up at the altar stands, reels prayers off by the ream,
Olav he sits down in the porch and tells of many a dream.
Men there were both young and old who lent a willing ear
while Olav Åsteson told dreams for all to hear.
II
On Christmas Eve I laid me down and soon fell fast asleep,
I did not wake till past Twelfth Night when folk their church shall keep
For
the moon shines bright and the roads are endless wide.
I have been high above the clouds and down in the blackest sea;
the one who’d in my footsteps tread, his heart shall ne’er laugh free.
I have been high above the clouds, in the darkest depths of the sea;
the one who’d in my footsteps tread, his mouth shall ne’er laugh free.
I have been up above the clouds and waded in mire as well.
Of heaven I have caught a glimpse and felt the flames of hell.
O’er holy water I have fared and valleys that lie low;
the water I hear yet cannot see, underground it surely must flow.
I am so tired and travel-worn, from thirst I burn like the sun;
the water I hear but cannot reach, underground it surely must run.
My sable steed it neighed not once, my dog no bark gave he,
the morning birds made not one sound – wondrous this seemed to me.
I found myself in another realm for many a long-drawn night,
as God in heaven knows I saw so many a sorry plight.
I know a bit of this and that, and therefore am found shrewd;
long was I buried ’neath the ground ere I thought this death good.
III
First on my journey I set out o’er a plain of sand and thorns,
My scarlet cloak was sorely rent, from each toe the nail was torn.
For
the moon shines bright and the roads are endless wide.
Next on my journey I set out through the narrow ring of thorns,
My scarlet coat was sorely rent, from each finger the nail was torn.
Then I arrived at Gjallar bridge that hung so high in the air
all of beaten gold it is, with studded turrets there.
The snake it strikes, the hound it bites, the bull it blocks the way;
these are the three on Gjallar bridge, their wrath makes all dismay.
The hound it bites, the snake it strikes, the bull stands ready to gore
–
no one can pass over Gjallar bridge whose judgments flout the law.
I have crossed over Gjallar bridge, it was both steep and grim;
have waded through the miry bogs and now have done with them.
Waded have I through miry bogs, where I foot can never touch ground;
Crossed over Gjallar bridge have I, with grave-earth in my mouth.
I have crossed over Gjallar bridge, decked out with hooks and barbs,
worse though the bogs – may God preserve whoever there would pass.
IV
Then did I come to waters wide, where ice burns glittering blue;
God put this clearly in my mind, so from there I fast withdrew.
For
the moon shines bright and the roads are endless wide.
I found myself in another realm, where none could I behold,
only my blessèd godmother, her hands decked with red gold.
Some travelled over Grimar ridge and some over Skåle strand
but those who Gjallar pool did cross, bedraggled they reached land.
Then I did swerve off to the right, where the Milky Way does rise;
and gleaming over beauteous lands did I glimpse Paradise.
My godmother I saw once more, who saw how it fared with me:
“Now journey you to Brokksvalin, where Judgment Day shall be.”
V
Then did I come to the pilgrim’s church, where none could I behold,
only my blessèd godmother, her hands decked with red gold.
In
Brokksvalin, where Judgment Day shall be.
A mighty host came from the north and fiercely it did ride.
With Grizzly Greybeard at its head, a great host at his side.
A mighty host came from the north, and now I feared the worst;
With Grizzly Greybeard at its head upon a jet-black horse.
A mighty host came from the south, my heart from fear was freed;
Archangel Michael at its head upon a milk-white steed.
A mighty host came from the south and calmly it did ride;
Archangel Michael at its head, closest to Jesus Christ.
A mighty host came from the south and slowly it did ride;
Archangel Michael at its head, his horn was by his side.
Archangel Michael took his horn and blew it loud and clear:
‘And now for every living soul does Judgment Day draw near!’
But then each sinful mortal shook like aspen leaves in the wind,
and each and every soul alive shed tears for every sin.
Archangel Michael took the scales and all did pay in kind,
all sinful souls that he there weighed were to Jesus Christ consigned.
VI
I saw a young man
bear a boy, the first thing I did see;
his victim’s
weight so burdened him he sank down to his knees.
In
Brokksvalin, where Judgment Day shall be.
Next that I met
with was a man whose cloak was made of lead:
his sorry soul on
this our earth was miserly indeed.
Next that I met
with were some men who carried burning clay;
may God have mercy
on poor souls who shift border stones away!
Next it was
children that I saw, consumed in a fiery pit:
God’s mercy be
with sinful souls who on father and mother would spit!
Next I did meet
with toad and snake that each other sought to bite:
they were but
sinful siblings who each other sought to blight.
Next did I meet a
pair of snakes that would bite each other’s tail:
they were but
sinful cousins who by carnal lust were flailed.
Then did I come to
the Witches’ Gaol where hags were fettered in chains:
their task was
churning crimson blood, which was a dreadful strain.
The heat of hell
is a torment drear, worse that can e’er be abhorred;
there o’er a
cauldron of pitch they hung, on a priest’s back it was then poured.
VII
Blessed is he who
in life on earth the poor in need gave shoes:
He need not walk
o’er the thorny heath barefoot should he not choose.
Tongue
shall speak and truth reply on Judgment Day.
Blessed is he who in life on earth to the poor in need gave a cow:
No faltering steps need he e’er take on Gjallar bridge’s high brow.
Blessed is he who in life on earth to the poor in need gave bread:
When hounds fierce howl in the other realm, he need never stand in
dread.
Blessed is he who in life on earth to the poor in need gave corn:
On Gjaller Bridge he need never dread the bull with the sharp-tipped
horn.
Blessed is he who in life on earth the poor in need gave meat:
In the other realm he need never dread either scorn or bitter hate.
Blessed is he who in life on earth the poor in need gave clothes:
In the other realm he need never dread the glacier where blue ice
glows.
Tongue
shall speak and truth reply on Judgment Day.
VIII
Men there were both young and old who lent a willing ear
now has Olav Åsteson told dreams for all to hear.
