Honour and praise to Frea—victory to Thor—glory to Odin, the greatest, and the best—hail to the master of gods and men!
Happily for his hearers, it was here, at length, that the merciless Brandomann terminated his long-winded history. Sleipner had for some time been his only auditor—Ildegarda had been nodding repeatedly—Heidruna fidgetily trotting backwards and forwards to the portal, watching the clouds—Serimnor had given two or three most portentous yawns—while the two ravens who did every thing in concert, had tucked their heads under their wings, and gone fairly to sleep:—but they all started up when the hum of his voice had ceased, and thanked the good Brandomann as sincerely as if they had been excessively delighted, for they were grateful that he had finished at last, and were besides too well bred not to be charmed with what had been done entirely for their amusement.
On the following day, during their usual rambles about the island, the princess looked so unusually depressed, and said so little in reply to the observations of her companion, that his attention, ever on the watch, was aroused by her sadness; tenderly he inquired the cause. “I will tell you,” replied Ildegarda: “when absent from you, and believing your life in danger, my only anxiety was to return; now, when that difficulty has passed away, I confess I am wretched respecting my father’s feelings and conduct, when he shall discover that I have quitted him for ever; neither is my heart without a pang when I reflect that I shall see him no more. Oh that I knew what is to come!—that I could look into the future, and behold my destiny and his!” “I know not that it is in my power altogether to fulfil your wishes,” answered Brandomann; “but I can give you a glance into the future, so as to discover its general complexion, but not to enable you to read exactly the very page of destiny. That which I can, to gratify your curiosity, I will do,—I will arrest for a few minutes the flight of the triune deity Time, and, by her appearance, we shall be able to judge of what is to come.—Urda, Werandi, Skulda!” continued Brandomann, raising his powerful voice to its utmost pitch, “obey the command of the lord of the Maelstrom, the mighty delegate of Odin—pause in your flight for a moment, and stand visibly before him!” Scarcely was the peremptory order uttered, ere a light cloud was seen advancing towards them from the sea, and when it became stationary Ildegarda beheld a female form slowly and gracefully emerging from its centre; her features were indistinctly visible, and upon the floating misty robe that enveloped her figure, many changing objects were, some faintly, some powerfully, represented. “It is Urda the Past,” said Brandomann to Ildegarda; “the events written upon her breast and brow are partially concealed in her garment of oblivion and doubt; and when this is penetrated by mortal sight, they are still seen through the mists of passion and prejudice, by which she is ever surrounded: look now upon her breast and brow—what objects do they represent to you?” “I see a criminal,” said the princess, “about to suffer the sentence of justice—the executioner is preparing to strike.” “To my view the representation is different,” replied Brandomann; “I see a crowned king falling beneath the murderous swords of his rebellious subjects.” “I observe a dying parent,” continued Ildegarda, “who consigns his child to a noble warrior who weeps by his couch, but presses the babe to his heart.” “I also see the dying father,” said Brandomann, “but he resigns his infant to a demon in form, and worse than a demon in heart, for he instantly plunges a dagger in its throat: what else do you remark?” “Many other objects,” continued the princess, “but nothing clearly; the goddess herself is retiring slowly from my gaze, and to whom does she give place?” “To Werandi the Present,” answered Brandomann, “in snow-white robe, with her unveiled face and open brow and eye—how clear she looks upon us!—and her garments will shew us our actions of this moment:—but she retires, and Skulda the Future supplies her place; clad in a robe of darkness, she exhibits nothing to our eyes, and the veil which covers her person conceals also her face from our observation: she shall withdraw it, and her smile or frown will shadow forth your destiny.” The goddess gently withdrew her veil, and the soft enchanting smile which she beamed upon the princess banished anxiety from her bosom, and graced the departure of the triune spirit with the sweet attribute of benevolence.