large/11252/spc166_1704_librivox_64kb_mp3/spc166_egilssagasonsloss_h43_64kb_19
large/11252/spc166_1704_librivox_64kb_mp3/spc166_egilssagasonsloss_h43_64kb
English
11252
Sea wavesflood that whilom Welled from giant's wound Smite upon the grave gate Of my sire and son. <strong>4.</strong> 'Dwindling now my kindred Draw near to their end, Ev'n as forest saplings Felled or tempest strown. SEA WAVES FLOOD THAT WILL OOM WELL FROM GIANT'S WOUND SMITE UPON THE GRAVE GATE OF MY SIREN SON DWINDLING NOW MY KINDRED DRAW NEAR TO THEIR END EVEN AS FOREST SAPLINGS FELLED OR TEMPEST STROWN
on Bodvar; but it were unseemly that he should not have funeral rites. Though I do not think that we two shall sit at the drinking when the funeral feast is held.' Egil said that it was not to be expected that he could now compose, though he were to attempt it. 'However, I will try this,' said he. Egil had had another son named Gunnar, who had died a short time before. So then Egil began the poem, and this is the beginning. <strong>SONA-TORREK (SONS' LOSS).</strong> <strong>1.</strong> 'Much doth it task me My tongue to move, Through my throat to utter The breath of song. Poesy, prize of Odin, Promise now I may not, A draught drawn not lightly From deep thought's dwelling. <strong>2.</strong> 'Forth it flows but hardly; For within my breast Heaving sobbing stifles Hindered stream of song Blessed boon to mortals Brought from Odin's kin, Goodly treasure, stolen From Giant-land of yore. <strong>3.</strong> 'He, who so blameless Bore him in life, O'erborne by billows With boat was whelmed.  SONATORICK SON'S LOSS FROM CHAPTER EIGHTY ONE OF EGEL SAGA TRANSLATION BY W C GREEN READ FOR LIBER BOX DOT WARG MY HAT AND FORTY THREE LOG DE LA KANZAEN DOT WORD PRESS DOG KO THE CONTEXT OF THE POEM IS THAT EGEL HAS JUST LOST HIS SON BODVAR IN A STORM AT SEA HAVING PREVIOUSLY LOST HIS SON GUNNA MUCH DOTH IT TASK ME MY TONGUE TO MOVE THROUGH MY THROAT TO UTTER THE BREATH OF SONG POSEY PRIZE OF ODIN PROMISE NOW I MAY NOT A DRAUGHT DRAWN NOT LIGHTLY FROM DEEP THOUGHT'S DWELLING FORTH IT FLOWS BUT HARDLY FOR WITHIN MY BREAST HEAVING SOBBING STIFLES HINDERED STREAM OF SONG BLESSED BOON TO MORTALS BROUGHT FROM ODIN'S KING GOODLY TREASURE STOLEN FROM GIANT LAND OF YORE HE WHO SO BLAMELESS BORE HIM IN LIFE O'ER BORNE BY BILLOWS WITH BOAT WAS WOUND
large/11252/spc166_1704_librivox_64kb_mp3/spc166_egilssagasonsloss_h43_64kb
file
download/librilight/large/11252/spc166_1704_librivox_64kb_mp3/spc166_egilssagasonsloss_h43_64kb.flac