WHEN THE OLD GODS LIVED.

Dominion, Volume 4, Issue 1174, 8 July 1911, Page 11

WHEN THE OLD GODS LIVED.

"WARE AEGIR." • When the audience at Drury Lane listened recently to the music of "The Song of Aegir," composed by the German Em'peror, how many were aware that in another part of England a cry iu dread of ' the Norse god Aegir sounded over the land? It is just possible that among the fashionable throng crowding stalls, boxes, circle, and balcony of Drury Lane there wero some people who never heard of Aegir. Yet if they were on the banks of the River Trent when the tidal wave comes rushing up between the counties r.( Nottingham and Lincoln they would hear a distant rush of water, anil as the roar came nearer they would catch, tho shout of the bargemen, "Ware Ae»ir." People in the straggling riverside fiamlets i would take up the cry "Ware Aegir," and owners of boats would run to their vessels, lying with prows pointed up river—very still on the ebbing waters of the sluggish stream—and, all excitement, they would loosen ropes and repeat the loud, increasing shout, Thousand Year Old Cry, "Ware Aegir! Ware Aegir!"-and the tidal wave rushes and dashes and crashes and the barges swing at their moorings and heavy ropes groau in the splash and the fury of "The Aegir." The flood has tuiued, and is flowing fast and the river

is filling, and barges with destinations for inland have up-anchored and are sliding on tho ; greasy brown waters of the Trent. And away ahead is the forerunning cry, "Ware' Aegir"—beware of the god of rushing waters. IW people who-shout it know it is a call which lias sounded down a thousand years, ever since the Norsemen invaded our shores. Those who at Drury Lane had a copy of the Emperor's "Song to Aegir" sawon the face of the music sheet the picture of a party of Norsemen engaged in invoking the aid of tho sea-god preparatory to embarking, upon ono ot _ their marauding expeditions. A translation of tho first verse of the Emperor's poem was as follows;— Hail! .Egir, lord of billows, Whom Nick and Nix obey, To thee in morn's red dawningThe host of heroes pray. We sail to dread encounter, Lead us o'er surf and strand, Through storms and crags and breakers, Into our foeman's land. • Tho Cruel God, /Egir, The Norsemen feared .23gir, for he was a cruel god who wrecked their ships and claimed their lives. Wind-sped they came up tho Hurnber and up the Trent. Sweyn, the father of Canute, journeyed with hi,s flaxen-haired men many miles over Trent waters, and made encampments: Norse names remain to this day. Sweyn died, and is buried somewhere in the hills at the hack of tho town of fiainsborough. Those Norsemen brought their mythology with them. The inrushing tide from the Humber gathered then, as to-day, at the mouth of the Trent, until the volume burst, and' tbeu with a Toar, sometimes gentle, sometimes fierce, raced white-nianed as far as where now stand the ruins of Torksey Castle, and there died away. The phenomenon touched the hearts of tho brave Norsemen. There must be a spirit in that sudden, swift-moving wall of tempestuous wave. It tore along, ripped the banks, tore bushes from the banks, sank boats, sometimes drowned people—just as it does today—and whenever tho Norsemen heard the far-off.'but' approaching tumble of waters they raised tho shout, " 'Ware iEgir!" " ■ '"• . Well, the Norsemen' have gone, save for the fair-haired descendants you meet in Lincolnshire and Nottinghamshire. But the shout of terror they sent over the'flat meadows remains. It'has travelled down tho centuries. ■ A Striking Contrast. It is one' of the most wonderful cries' in-the world, a hit of mythology sticking up in our modem life "like the peak of a submerged ■ world," says C'arlyle. See a little steam launch slipping over the brown waters of the Trent, and then, when tho strange, eerie • cry comes, at first like a whisper on the shoulders of the evening, see the launch put into midstream, resting,- waiting, and then, when "tho jEgir" ■ drives with waves whitetressed, how. she jumps and pretests and swerves—what a' contrast to those thousand years ago when the Norsemen sailed this way! , . A. savage old god was iEgir, living in. a part of the ocean "where the stormy winds blow" and no boat dare penetrate. And a toper, a wa.-sail drinker, inclined to rollicking. Story of Heathen Gods, Did he not have the other gods of the north to visit him, and coming in numbers—as is usual when hospitality is bountiful—was it not found that the cauldron in which ale was to be brewed was too small?. So thunderous Thorwent off to find another god who had a fairsized cauldron—it was a mile deep—and as this other, god had not been invited to the feast .refused to lend his kettle. ', A great fight in consequence, with victory to Thor, wbd clapped the cauldron on his head, helmet-wise, and hastoned to tho hali of J3gir, where a stupendous brow was made. And a merry night they had. Do you not remember that /Egir's wife was Ban—who spent, her time catching sailors in a net—and that the pair had nine daughters, girls with pale locks and white, veils,-and with names-like Kolga, the racing sea; Kefriug, tho swelling; Duva, tho driver; Himingloefa, the clear sky; and Blodughadda, the purple-haired? ~Tusfc stories symbolic of nature dear to men in the oarly days—fairy tales believed in when strong men had tho credulity of children; iEgir, the stormy sea; Ran, the depths which craved human sacrifice; the daughters just the waves and the sky; tho hall of iEgir, ; shimmering with light, heaven itself; the kettle, just the seething waters. Nature was personified, and grim pootic imaginations were the consequence. The romance.- to us is that to-day the echo of the Norse mythology, sounds over the fields of Notts and green Linden, aiid that mothers take their children.to the Trentside and tell them they must bo careful, for if ever "tho iEgir" catches them they will he'drowned. - ■ Composed Twenty Years Ago. The" Emperor William's "Song- to iEgir" was.written'and composed by the Kaiser nearly twenty years ago. There was great enthusiasm throughout Cicrmany thou, and many a proud German, father wanted to have his baby hoy christened aigir. But laws are strict it the Fatherland. The name of a mythological doity cannot ho given as a "Christian name." So there arc no .Egtrs in Germany. However, we have the Teal iEgir in England. Perhaps some day the royal.composer of the "Song to vEgir" will go north and see the god careering noisily up tho Trent and listen to the bargemen sending ■through tho dusk the curious eerie cry, "\V—ware iEgir"—long' drawn out— "W-w-are iEgir!" • _" ' > —By Foster Fraser. 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