For those Vikings who choose to be lover over fighters, or maybe for those of use whose lover is also a fighter, we here at Norse Tradesman have decided to honor you in this blog. For our topic is one of merriment over mayhem, and certainly one for the lovers, whether of women or of drink (the Vikings were really good about equal opportunity). If you couldn’t guess it from the title, this blog will be devoted to Viking poetry, and to peering a little deeper into the life and times of the Viking poets known as “Skalds.”
For those Vikings who choose to be lover over fighters, or maybe for those of use whose lover is also a fighter, we here at Norse Tradesman have decided to honor you in this blog. For our topic is one of merriment over mayhem, and certainly one for the lovers, whether of women or of drink (the Vikings were really good about equal opportunity). If you couldn’t guess it from the title, this blog will be devoted to Viking poetry, and to peering a little deeper into the life and times of the Viking poets known as “Skalds.”
For those Vikings who choose to be lover over fighters, or maybe for those of use whose lover is also a fighter, we here at Norse Tradesman have decided to honor you in this blog. For our topic is one of merriment over mayhem, and certainly one for the lovers, whether of women or of drink (the Vikings were really good about equal opportunity). If you couldn’t guess it from the title, this blog will be devoted to Viking poetry, and to peering a little deeper into the life and times of the Viking poets known as “Skalds.”
We actually had a pretty hard time with this first section of the blog, because the beginning is always the best place to start, but we really couldn’t decide whether to start with the beginning of Viking poetry as it relates to history, or as it relates to mythology. Spoiler. We decided to go with mythology… cause it is a lot more interesting.
We actually had a pretty hard time with this first section of the blog, because the beginning is always the best place to start, but we really couldn’t decide whether to start with the beginning of Viking poetry as it relates to history, or as it relates to mythology. Spoiler. We decided to go with mythology… cause it is a lot more interesting.
We actually had a pretty hard time with this first section of the blog, because the beginning is always the best place to start, but we really couldn’t decide whether to start with the beginning of Viking poetry as it relates to history, or as it relates to mythology. Spoiler. We decided to go with mythology… cause it is a lot more interesting.
There was a time when there was no poetry in the world, and that quite possibly was considered to be a bad thing. It happened by accident though, whether it was the beginning of poetry itself or merely the creation of the wisest and most lyrically gifted being in the world…
There was a time when there was no poetry in the world, and that quite possibly was considered to be a bad thing. It happened by accident though, whether it was the beginning of poetry itself or merely the creation of the wisest and most lyrically gifted being in the world…
There was a time when there was no poetry in the world, and that quite possibly was considered to be a bad thing. It happened by accident though, whether it was the beginning of poetry itself or merely the creation of the wisest and most lyrically gifted being in the world…
Kvasir was a later creation of the gods. He was born of a pact between the Vanir and Aesir. Agreeing to cease their conflicts, the two tribes of gods spit into a cauldron and from the magic and grace of their fluids, spat in hopes of peace, emerged a beautiful thing, as lovely as peace itself. Out from the cauldron crawled knowledge, and wisdom, and poetry all wrapped in the form of a man; Kvasir.
Kvasir was a later creation of the gods. He was born of a pact between the Vanir and Aesir. Agreeing to cease their conflicts, the two tribes of gods spit into a cauldron and from the magic and grace of their fluids, spat in hopes of peace, emerged a beautiful thing, as lovely as peace itself. Out from the cauldron crawled knowledge, and wisdom, and poetry all wrapped in the form of a man; Kvasir.
Kvasir was a later creation of the gods. He was born of a pact between the Vanir and Aesir. Agreeing to cease their conflicts, the two tribes of gods spit into a cauldron and from the magic and grace of their fluids, spat in hopes of peace, emerged a beautiful thing, as lovely as peace itself. Out from the cauldron crawled knowledge, and wisdom, and poetry all wrapped in the form of a man; Kvasir.
Kvasir traveled throughout the worlds, being neither truly man nor truly god, he felt no bond to keep him in either Midgard or Asgard. But wherever he found himself, there he granted wisdom and answered any question or riddle with ease. He told stories that both entertained and educated. And while this was both a marvel to the gods and to the denizens of Midgard, there were those who hated Kvasir. No, not for fear of his knowledge, but for hatred of anything given for free.
Kvasir traveled throughout the worlds, being neither truly man nor truly god, he felt no bond to keep him in either Midgard or Asgard. But wherever he found himself, there he granted wisdom and answered any question or riddle with ease. He told stories that both entertained and educated. And while this was both a marvel to the gods and to the denizens of Midgard, there were those who hated Kvasir. No, not for fear of his knowledge, but for hatred of anything given for free.
Kvasir traveled throughout the worlds, being neither truly man nor truly god, he felt no bond to keep him in either Midgard or Asgard. But wherever he found himself, there he granted wisdom and answered any question or riddle with ease. He told stories that both entertained and educated. And while this was both a marvel to the gods and to the denizens of Midgard, there were those who hated Kvasir. No, not for fear of his knowledge, but for hatred of anything given for free.
True greed, the enemy of wisdom and beauty was embodied in the dwarves Fjalar & Galar. They hated Kvasir for the words he was able to speak and feared a world full of wisdom, because they thought it dangerous. How could any man keep a secret from one who knows all? And how could any man preserve his horde, if one only needed to ask Kvasir to find gold? Even worse… what if someone asked Kvasir what was better than gold and he actually told them?
True greed, the enemy of wisdom and beauty was embodied in the dwarves Fjalar & Galar. They hated Kvasir for the words he was able to speak and feared a world full of wisdom, because they thought it dangerous.
True greed, the enemy of wisdom and beauty was embodied in the dwarves Fjalar & Galar. They hated Kvasir for the words he was able to speak and feared a world full of wisdom, because they thought it dangerous.
At the conclusion of a long-drawn plot, Fjalar and Galar managed to pull off the murder of Kvasir and drained every drop of his blood into their prized magical cauldron, Odhrǫrir. Mixing it with honey, they made his blood into a sweet mead, as sweet as his own poetry, but drinking it, they were shocked to find that while the mead flowed through their veins, they too could answer riddles and spin sweet poems. Though begotten through a foul plot and fermented, Kvasir’s blood still held its magic. The magic of poetry had now become the mead of poerty.
How could any man keep a secret from one who knows all? And how could any man preserve his horde, if one only needed to ask Kvasir to find gold? Even worse… what if someone asked Kvasir what was better than gold and he actually told them?
At the conclusion of a long-drawn plot, Fjalar and Galar managed to pull off the murder of Kvasir and drained every drop of his blood into their prized magical cauldron, Odhrǫrir. Mixing it with honey, they made his blood into a sweet mead, as sweet as his own poetry, but drinking it, they were shocked to find that while the mead flowed through their veins, they too could answer riddles and spin sweet poems. Though begotten through a foul plot and fermented, Kvasir’s blood still held its magic. The magic of poetry had now become the mead of poerty.
How could any man keep a secret from one who knows all? And how could any man preserve his horde, if one only needed to ask Kvasir to find gold? Even worse… what if someone asked Kvasir what was better than gold and he actually told them?
At the conclusion of a long-drawn plot, Fjalar and Galar managed to pull off the murder of Kvasir and drained every drop of his blood into their prized magical cauldron, Odhrǫrir. Mixing it with honey, they made his blood into a sweet mead, as sweet as his own poetry, but drinking it, they were shocked to find that while the mead flowed through their veins, they too could answer riddles and spin sweet poems. Though begotten through a foul plot and fermented, Kvasir’s blood still held its magic. The magic of poetry had now become the mead of poerty.
By all rights, it was not long until others had heard tales of the two dwarves who could spin incredible tales and recite poetry that could make stones weep with joy, and it was those kinds of rumors that eventually reached the ears of Odin himself. Asgard had been wondering what had become of Kvasir, as no one had heard from him in some time, and now to hear of dwarves who seemed to possess his same gift…? Needless to say, the gods had become curious.
By that time, the mead had changed hands several times and now belonged to the giant, Suttungr and was guarded by his daughter, Gunnlod. Odin, being gifted in not only disguise, but also in transfiguration (shapeshifting) decided to pay the giants a visit.
By all rights, it was not long until others had heard tales of the two dwarves who could spin incredible tales and recite poetry that could make stones weep with joy, and it was those kinds of rumors that eventually reached the ears of Odin himself. Asgard had been wondering what had become of Kvasir, as no one had heard from him in some time, and now to hear of dwarves who seemed to possess his same gift…? Needless to say, the gods had become curious.
By all rights, it was not long until others had heard tales of the two dwarves who could spin incredible tales and recite poetry that could make stones weep with joy, and it was those kinds of rumors that eventually reached the ears of Odin himself. Asgard had been wondering what had become of Kvasir, as no one had heard from him in some time, and now to hear of dwarves who seemed to possess his same gift…? Needless to say, the gods had become curious.
Not to put too fine a point on it, but Odin’s disguise worked so well that he was able to murder, trick, and seduce his way to the location of the mead’s secret hiding place. Unfortunately, as Odin came almost entirely empty-handed, the only way to smuggle the mead out was in his own belly! Transforming himself into several animals along the route of his escape, he was finally able to escape by turning himself into a eagle and flying all the way back to Asgard.
By that time, the mead had changed hands several times and now belonged to the giant, Suttungr and was guarded by his daughter, Gunnlod. Odin, being gifted in not only disguise, but also in transfiguration (shapeshifting) decided to pay the giants a visit.
Not to put too fine a point on it, but Odin’s disguise worked so well that he was able to murder, trick, and seduce his way to the location of the mead’s secret hiding place. Unfortunately, as Odin came almost entirely empty-handed, the only way to smuggle the mead out was in his own belly! Transforming himself into several animals along the route of his escape, he was finally able to escape by turning himself into a eagle and flying all the way back to Asgard.
By that time, the mead had changed hands several times and now belonged to the giant, Suttungr and was guarded by his daughter, Gunnlod. Odin, being gifted in not only disguise, but also in transfiguration (shapeshifting) decided to pay the giants a visit.
Not to put too fine a point on it, but Odin’s disguise worked so well that he was able to murder, trick, and seduce his way to the location of the mead’s secret hiding place. Unfortunately, as Odin came almost entirely empty-handed, the only way to smuggle the mead out was in his own belly! Transforming himself into several animals along the route of his escape, he was finally able to escape by turning himself into a eagle and flying all the way back to Asgard.
Odin did deliver the mead of poetry to the gods in the end, and as such, poetry is said to be a gift from Odin himself, should any mortal be fortunate enough to possess such a talent. However… not all poetry is good poetry, as I am sure that most of you are well aware. All poetry comes from Odin, regardless of whether it is good or bad.
Odin did deliver the mead of poetry to the gods in the end, and as such, poetry is said to be a gift from Odin himself, should any mortal be fortunate enough to possess such a talent. However… not all poetry is good poetry, as I am sure that most of you are well aware. All poetry comes from Odin, regardless of whether it is good or bad.
Odin did deliver the mead of poetry to the gods in the end, and as such, poetry is said to be a gift from Odin himself, should any mortal be fortunate enough to possess such a talent. However… not all poetry is good poetry, as I am sure that most of you are well aware. All poetry comes from Odin, regardless of whether it is good or bad.
Good poetry was delivered to Asgard into several huge vessels, as Odin flew over the courtyards, regurgitating as much stollen mead as he could. But the mead of poetry had within it a power of wisdom and Suttungr the giant was also in possession of magic and artifacts within his horde. As Odin turned to an eagle, so did Suttungr, chasing him all the way back to Asgard.
Odin’s belly was full of hundreds of gallons of mead, and with the long flight back to the home of the gods, he had already started to digest a good bit of it. He was heavy and slow with the mead, and though he was ahead of Suttungr in his own eagle form, Suttungr was catching up quickly. There was only one thing Odin could do to throw him off of the sent and to defend his… rear.
Good poetry was delivered to Asgard into several huge vessels, as Odin flew over the courtyards, regurgitating as much stollen mead as he could. But the mead of poetry had within it a power of wisdom and Suttungr the giant was also in possession of magic and artifacts within his horde. As Odin turned to an eagle, so did Suttungr, chasing him all the way back to Asgard.
Good poetry was delivered to Asgard into several huge vessels, as Odin flew over the courtyards, regurgitating as much stollen mead as he could. But the mead of poetry had within it a power of wisdom and Suttungr the giant was also in possession of magic and artifacts within his horde. As Odin turned to an eagle, so did Suttungr, chasing him all the way back to Asgard.
Odin’s belly was full of hundreds of gallons of mead, and with the long flight back to the home of the gods, he had already started to digest a good bit of it. He was heavy and slow with the mead, and though he was ahead of Suttungr in his own eagle form, Suttungr was catching up quickly. There was only one thing Odin could do to throw him off of the sent and to defend his… rear.
Odin’s belly was full of hundreds of gallons of mead, and with the long flight back to the home of the gods, he had already started to digest a good bit of it. He was heavy and slow with the mead, and though he was ahead of Suttungr in his own eagle form, Suttungr was catching up quickly. There was only one thing Odin could do to throw him off of the sent and to defend his… rear.
As we said before, Odin was still trying to spit out as much of the mead of poetry as possible, to save it into the huge vessels on the courtyard of Valhalla in the home of the gods. But with an enemy hot on his tail, there was little more her could do to defend himself… he clenched his gut as hard as he could and sprayed Suttungr with a face full of ass-mead! Yep, Odin showered Suttungr with a chocolate rain of shitty, stinking, sour, putrid ass-mead. And as the gods say to this day, “Great poetry rolls off the lips, but poor poetry is sprayed out the ass.”
As we said before, Odin was still trying to spit out as much of the mead of poetry as possible, to save it into the huge vessels on the courtyard of Valhalla in the home of the gods. But with an enemy hot on his tail, there was little more her could do to defend himself… he clenched his gut as hard as he could and sprayed Suttungr with a face full of ass-mead! Yep, Odin showered Suttungr with a chocolate rain of shitty, stinking, sour, putrid ass-mead. And as the gods say to this day, “Great poetry rolls off the lips, but poor poetry is sprayed out the ass.”
As we said before, Odin was still trying to spit out as much of the mead of poetry as possible, to save it into the huge vessels on the courtyard of Valhalla in the home of the gods. But with an enemy hot on his tail, there was little more her could do to defend himself… he clenched his gut as hard as he could and sprayed Suttungr with a face full of ass-mead! Yep, Odin showered Suttungr with a chocolate rain of shitty, stinking, sour, putrid ass-mead. And as the gods say to this day, “Great poetry rolls off the lips, but poor poetry is sprayed out the ass.”
Looking at Viking Poetry historically, we enter the world of the Skald! Though, it can also be argued that the term “skald” actually comes from mythology via Skaldi, who was ether a god all along, or was a man so gifted in poetry that the gods got a little jealous and decided to make him a god so they could pull him up to Asgard. (This is why we can’t have nice things)
Either way, poets really do exist, and for the Vikings, they were called Skalds.
Looking at Viking Poetry historically, we enter the world of the Skald! Though, it can also be argued that the term “skald” actually comes from mythology via Skaldi, who was ether a god all along, or was a man so gifted in poetry that the gods got a little jealous and decided to make him a god so they could pull him up to Asgard. (This is why we can’t have nice things)
Either way, poets really do exist, and for the Vikings, they were called Skalds.
Looking at Viking Poetry historically, we enter the world of the Skald! Though, it can also be argued that the term “skald” actually comes from mythology via Skaldi, who was ether a god all along, or was a man so gifted in poetry that the gods got a little jealous and decided to make him a god so they could pull him up to Asgard. (This is why we can’t have nice things)
Either way, poets really do exist, and for the Vikings, they were called Skalds.
Kind of like in the golden a age of the Renaissance, when artists and musicians were supported by noble houses, the skalds of the Viking era were immediately associated with nobility and the high-born classes of society. Whether from a farmer father or a shield-maiden mother, a poet was a poet, was a poet. In this one case, lineage did not matter. That was likely due to all of the mythology above. Poetry was a gift from Odin, and it was easy to tell which end of the eagle this blessing emerged from.
Skalds may not have had access to education of funds for themselves, but being one of the only forms of entertainment (the Vikings really weren’t big on reading and writing), nobles were happy to have them sit at their tables night after night and in most cases, nobility provided them education, food, travel, and access to oral histories and legends that they may never have heard before. This made them better poets, and as time went on it made them something akin to history professors.
Kind of like in the golden a age of the Renaissance, when artists and musicians were supported by noble houses, the skalds of the Viking era were immediately associated with nobility and the high-born classes of society. Whether from a farmer father or a shield-maiden mother, a poet was a poet, was a poet. In this one case, lineage did not matter. That was likely due to all of the mythology above. Poetry was a gift from Odin, and it was easy to tell which end of the eagle this blessing emerged from.
Kind of like in the golden a age of the Renaissance, when artists and musicians were supported by noble houses, the skalds of the Viking era were immediately associated with nobility and the high-born classes of society. Whether from a farmer father or a shield-maiden mother, a poet was a poet, was a poet. In this one case, lineage did not matter. That was likely due to all of the mythology above. Poetry was a gift from Odin, and it was easy to tell which end of the eagle this blessing emerged from.
Skalds may not have had access to education of funds for themselves, but being one of the only forms of entertainment (the Vikings really weren’t big on reading and writing), nobles were happy to have them sit at their tables night after night and in most cases, nobility provided them education, food, travel, and access to oral histories and legends that they may never have heard before. This made them better poets, and as time went on it made them something akin to history professors.
Skalds may not have had access to education of funds for themselves, but being one of the only forms of entertainment (the Vikings really weren’t big on reading and writing), nobles were happy to have them sit at their tables night after night and in most cases, nobility provided them education, food, travel, and access to oral histories and legends that they may never have heard before. This made them better poets, and as time went on it made them something akin to history professors.
Everywhere the skalds went, they were met with reverence and respect. They could play music, sing songs, recite poems and great epics of the past, but more than that, they could sing your praises as well. Skalds were in charge of the world and its history, painting pictures of words to represent wealth and character, charisma and courage, victory and honor! …or, cowardice and failure. As we said above, there were no written histories at that time, and it was up to the skald to not only record events in their songs, but to pass them down so that heroes and their great deeds could be remembered forever.
Everywhere the skalds went, they were met with reverence and respect. They could play music, sing songs, recite poems and great epics of the past, but more than that, they could sing your praises as well. Skalds were in charge of the world and its history, painting pictures of words to represent wealth and character, charisma and courage, victory and honor! …or, cowardice and failure. As we said above, there were no written histories at that time, and it was up to the skald to not only record events in their songs, but to pass them down so that heroes and their great deeds could be remembered forever.
Everywhere the skalds went, they were met with reverence and respect. They could play music, sing songs, recite poems and great epics of the past, but more than that, they could sing your praises as well. Skalds were in charge of the world and its history, painting pictures of words to represent wealth and character, charisma and courage, victory and honor! …or, cowardice and failure. As we said above, there were no written histories at that time, and it was up to the skald to not only record events in their songs, but to pass them down so that heroes and their great deeds could be remembered forever.
There was once a great Viking hero (Harald Hardrada), who was said to have participated in many great wars, dominated over 80 enemy cities, and lead his armies to countless victories. He was a man of wealth and power and was seen as a legend in his own time, but when he was asked to boast of one of his great accomplishments in life, he did not tell of one of his battles or the size of his horde, but instead… he told his audience that he was gifted in poetry.
There was once a great Viking hero (Harald Hardrada), who was said to have participated in many great wars, dominated over 80 enemy cities, and lead his armies to countless victories.
There was once a great Viking hero (Harald Hardrada), who was said to have participated in many great wars, dominated over 80 enemy cities, and lead his armies to countless victories.
He was a man of wealth and power and was seen as a legend in his own time, but when he was asked to boast of one of his great accomplishments in life, he did not tell of one of his battles or the size of his horde, but instead… he told his audience that he was gifted in poetry.
He was a man of wealth and power and was seen as a legend in his own time, but when he was asked to boast of one of his great accomplishments in life, he did not tell of one of his battles or the size of his horde, but instead… he told his audience that he was gifted in poetry.
When Harald Hardrada bragged about being gifted in poetry, this was no small boast. In a sense, it really meant two things. 1) Harald was blessed by Odin himself, and 2) that Harald was also more intelligent and well-educated than 99% of the Viking population.
Skalds weren’t the liberal arts community college pubescent teens that we imagine of the Renaisance ‘bard,’ harkening at every light through which yonder window breaks. They were intuitive, cunning performers, scholars, musicians, and historians all rolled into one person. Many could likely read runes and a few of the most famous were not only responsible for retelling the legends of the gods, but creating the mythology itself.
When Harald Hardrada bragged about being gifted in poetry, this was no small boast. In a sense, it really meant two things. 1) Harald was blessed by Odin himself, and 2) that Harald was also more intelligent and well-educated than 99% of the Viking population.
Skalds weren’t the liberal arts community college pubescent teens that we imagine of the Renaisance ‘bard,’ harkening at every light through which yonder window breaks. They were intuitive, cunning performers, scholars, musicians, and historians all rolled into one person. Many could likely read runes and a few of the most famous were not only responsible for retelling the legends of the gods, but creating the mythology itself.
When Harald Hardrada bragged about being gifted in poetry, this was no small boast. In a sense, it really meant two things. 1) Harald was blessed by Odin himself, and 2) that Harald was also more intelligent and well-educated than 99% of the Viking population.
Skalds weren’t the liberal arts community college pubescent teens that we imagine of the Renaisance ‘bard,’ harkening at every light through which yonder window breaks. They were intuitive, cunning performers, scholars, musicians, and historians all rolled into one person. Many could likely read runes and a few of the most famous were not only responsible for retelling the legends of the gods, but creating the mythology itself.
Part of the reason that skalds were so highly sought after, and why a single family would seek to entertain the poems of a skald for years on end, is because the poems and songs of a skald were never the same, even if they were actually the same story.
Part of the reason that skalds were so highly sought after, and why a single family would seek to entertain the poems of a skald for years on end, is because the poems and songs of a skald were never the same, even if they were actually the same story.
Reading the room for audience reactions, a skald would manipulate the story and suspense, alter the verse and pentameter, change words, and even alter the progression of a tail to draw out the suspense. The skald was essentially an intuitive and adaptive movie theater, constantly shifting the plot to suit the hidden desires of the audience who may or may not know what is coming next.
Reading the room for audience reactions, a skald would manipulate the story and suspense, alter the verse and pentameter, change words, and even alter the progression of a tail to draw out the suspense. The skald was essentially an intuitive and adaptive movie theater, constantly shifting the plot to suit the hidden desires of the audience who may or may not know what is coming next.
Part of the reason that skalds were so highly sought after, and why a single family would seek to entertain the poems of a skald for years on end, is because the poems and songs of a skald were never the same, even if they were actually the same story. Reading the room for audience reactions, a skald would manipulate the story and suspense, alter the verse and pentameter, change words, and even alter the progression of a tail to draw out the suspense. The skald was essentially an intuitive and adaptive movie theater, constantly shifting the plot to suit the hidden desires of the audience who may or may not know what is coming next.
Looking at this art from a scientific perspective, we begin to see just how difficult being a skald really was. You might think that memorizing all the stories, tales, history, and mythology may be the hardest part, but you would be wrong!
Viking poetry was much more complex then a simple rhyme scheme or limerick. There were different types of meters to consider, differences in syllable counts, alternative meter lengths, and strategies for the specific content of certain lines depending of the poetic style of each verse being composed. And, if we hadn’t mentioned it yet, none of this was written down. Poetry was composed and recited LIVE! No practice! Nobles paid you and they by all rights could as for any poem, song, or story on any topic, at any time… and it had to be of equal quality to the well-rehearsed works of other skalds.
Looking at this art from a scientific perspective, we begin to see just how difficult being a skald really was. You might think that memorizing all the stories, tales, history, and mythology may be the hardest part, but you would be wrong!
Viking poetry was much more complex then a simple rhyme scheme or limerick. There were different types of meters to consider, differences in syllable counts, alternative meter lengths, and strategies for the specific content of certain lines depending of the poetic style of each verse being composed. And, if we hadn’t mentioned it yet, none of this was written down. Poetry was composed and recited LIVE! No practice! Nobles paid you and they by all rights could as for any poem, song, or story on any topic, at any time… and it had to be of equal quality to the well-rehearsed works of other skalds.
Looking at this art from a scientific perspective, we begin to see just how difficult being a skald really was. You might think that memorizing all the stories, tales, history, and mythology may be the hardest part, but you would be wrong!
Viking poetry was much more complex then a simple rhyme scheme or limerick. There were different types of meters to consider, differences in syllable counts, alternative meter lengths, and strategies for the specific content of certain lines depending of the poetic style of each verse being composed. And, if we hadn’t mentioned it yet, none of this was written down. Poetry was composed and recited LIVE! No practice! Nobles paid you and they by all rights could as for any poem, song, or story on any topic, at any time… and it had to be of equal quality to the well-rehearsed works of other skalds.
This is where the skill really came into play. There were lots of way poems could be constructed, but each style was suitable for certain types of content. Dróttkvætt, the "courtly metre" sets a general tone for a high-class audiences, but other styes such as Ljóðaháttr, the "metre of chants" opens up broken stanzas for the skald to engage in conversations between his characters.
Other forms such as Fornyrðislag, "the metre of ancient words" creates the perfect environment for the scald to oversee his story and describe events in a more narrative form.
This is where the skill really came into play. There were lots of way poems could be constructed, but each style was suitable for certain types of content. Dróttkvætt, the "courtly metre" sets a general tone for a high-class audiences, but other styes such as Ljóðaháttr, the "metre of chants" opens up broken stanzas for the skald to engage in conversations between his characters.
This is where the skill really came into play. There were lots of way poems could be constructed, but each style was suitable for certain types of content. Dróttkvætt, the "courtly metre" sets a general tone for a high-class audiences, but other styes such as Ljóðaháttr, the "metre of chants" opens up broken stanzas for the skald to engage in conversations between his characters.
Still other novel forms of poetry were used in stately affairs, such as rites of passage, rituals, and ceremonies. These often used poetry composed in Galdralag, the "magic spell metre". Galdr itself means “enchanter” and denotes that the skald at this point is likely invoking the powers of the spiritual world or calling upon the gods, either for their power, or for them to witness the event. The content of these poems is subject to the skald, but the defining feature is that the 4th line of the verse acts as a highly nuanced echo to the content of the 3rd line of the stanza.
In addition to the lager families of poetic styles, there are a few variations that pop up with some regularity within Norse and Viking poetry, but these are mainly differences in number of syllables, or the alternations between syllable patterns within a verse. While stylistic, they really don’t seem to have the profound power or impact of the unique metres above.
Other forms such as Fornyrðislag, "the metre of ancient words" creates the perfect environment for the scald to oversee his story and describe events in a more narrative form.
Still other novel forms of poetry were used in stately affairs, such as rites of passage, rituals, and ceremonies. These often used poetry composed in Galdralag, the "magic spell metre". Galdr itself means “enchanter” and denotes that the skald at this point is likely invoking the powers of the spiritual world or calling upon the gods, either for their power, or for them to witness the event. The content of these poems is subject to the skald, but the defining feature is that the 4th line of the verse acts as a highly nuanced echo to the content of the 3rd line of the stanza.
In addition to the lager families of poetic styles, there are a few variations that pop up with some regularity within Norse and Viking poetry, but these are mainly differences in number of syllables, or the alternations between syllable patterns within a verse. While stylistic, they really don’t seem to have the profound power or impact of the unique metres above.
Other forms such as Fornyrðislag, "the metre of ancient words" creates the perfect environment for the scald to oversee his story and describe events in a more narrative form. Still other novel forms of poetry were used in stately affairs, such as rites of passage, rituals, and ceremonies. These often used poetry composed in Galdralag, the "magic spell metre". Galdr itself means “enchanter” and denotes that the skald at this point is likely invoking the powers of the spiritual world or calling upon the gods, either for their power, or for them to witness the event. The content of these poems is subject to the skald, but the defining feature is that the 4th line of the verse acts as a highly nuanced echo to the content of the 3rd line of the stanza.
In addition to the lager families of poetic styles, there are a few variations that pop up with some regularity within Norse and Viking poetry, but these are mainly differences in number of syllables, or the alternations between syllable patterns within a verse. While stylistic, they really don’t seem to have the profound power or impact of the unique metres above.
While this blog may not contain the romance letter to the Shield-Maiden of your dreams, it does much to describe the power and value of poetry to the Viking world. And maybe, just maybe, it might encourage you to try to come up with your own lyric and verse for the beloved, or betrothed in your own life, as you cuddle up by the hearth together.
If you are in need of some further inspiration though, feel free to consult the Icelandic Sagas for some hidden skaldic poetry, or maybe skim through the Havamal. After all, a book of verse from the father of poetry himself couldn’t be that bad of an idea.
Live long and fight strong, my modern Vikings!
Dr. Cody J. Dees, Ph.D.
“The guess of the wise is truth”
Norse Tradesman
While this blog may not contain the romance letter to the Shield-Maiden of your dreams, it does much to describe the power and value of poetry to the Viking world. And maybe, just maybe, it might encourage you to try to come up with your own lyric and verse for the beloved, or betrothed in your own life, as you cuddle up by the hearth together.
If you are in need of some further inspiration though, feel free to consult the Icelandic Sagas for some hidden skaldic poetry, or maybe skim through the Havamal. After all, a book of verse from the father of poetry himself couldn’t be that bad of an idea.
Live long and fight strong, my modern Vikings!
Dr. Cody J. Dees, Ph.D.
“The guess of the wise is truth”
Norse Tradesman
While this blog may not contain the romance letter to the Shield-Maiden of your dreams, it does much to describe the power and value of poetry to the Viking world. And maybe, just maybe, it might encourage you to try to come up with your own lyric and verse for the beloved, or betrothed in your own life, as you cuddle up by the hearth together.
If you are in need of some further inspiration though, feel free to consult the Icelandic Sagas for some hidden skaldic poetry, or maybe skim through the Havamal. After all, a book of verse from the father of poetry himself couldn’t be that bad of an idea.
Live long and fight strong, my modern Vikings!
Dr. Cody J. Dees, Ph.D.
“The guess of the wise is truth”
Norse Tradesman
