ARFUR · Track 6

Gef mér sverðið

Old Icelandic

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Ég klæddist brynju, ekki kjól, Ég bar sverð, ekki nál, Þeir kölluðu mig undarlega, Ég kallaði mig frjálsa. Hervör gengur inn í eldinn, Hervör vekur dauða menn, Hervör óttast ekki bölvun, Tyrfingur verður minn. Hervör gengur inn í eldinn, Hervör vekur dauða menn, Hervör óttast ekki bölvun, Tyrfingur verður minn. Ég sigldi til hauganna einn, Loginn brann blár í myrkri, Draugar risu, jörðin skalf, Ég kallaði á föður minn dauðan. Angantýr! Gef mér sverðið! Angantýr! Gef mér sverðið! Angantýr! Gef mér sverðið! Angantýr! Gef mér sverðið! Hervör gengur inn í eldinn, Hervör vekur dauða menn, Hervör óttast ekki bölvun, Tyrfingur verður minn. Hervör gengur inn í eldinn, Hervör vekur dauða menn, Hervör óttast ekki bölvun, Tyrfingur verður minn. Sverðið mun drepa með hverri drátt, Ég ræð eigin örlögum! Bölvunin fylgir blóði þínu að eilífu, Þá fylgi ég henni frjáls! Hervör gengur inn í eldinn, Hervör vekur dauða menn, Hervör óttast ekki bölvun, Tyrfingur verður minn. Hervör gengur inn í eldinn, Hervör vekur dauða menn, Hervör óttast ekki bölvun, Tyrfingur verður minn. Tyrfingur er minn, bölvunin er mín, Tyrfingur er minn, bölvunin er mín. Tyrfingur er minn, bölvunin er mín, Tyrfingur er minn, bölvunin er mín.

I wore mail, not a gown, I bore a sword, not a needle, They called me strange, I called myself free. Hervör walks into the fire, Hervör wakes the dead men, Hervör does not fear the curse, Tyrfingr shall be mine. Hervör walks into the fire, Hervör wakes the dead men, Hervör does not fear the curse, Tyrfingr shall be mine. I sailed to the burial mounds alone, The flame burned blue in the darkness, Draugar rose, the earth shook, I called upon my dead father. Angantýr! Give me the sword! Angantýr! Give me the sword! Angantýr! Give me the sword! Angantýr! Give me the sword! Hervör walks into the fire, Hervör wakes the dead men, Hervör does not fear the curse, Tyrfingr shall be mine. Hervör walks into the fire, Hervör wakes the dead men, Hervör does not fear the curse, Tyrfingr shall be mine. The sword will kill with every drawing, I rule my own fate! The curse will follow your blood for ever, Then I follow it as a free woman! Hervör walks into the fire, Hervör wakes the dead men, Hervör does not fear the curse, Tyrfingr shall be mine. Hervör walks into the fire, Hervör wakes the dead men, Hervör does not fear the curse, Tyrfingr shall be mine. Tyrfingr is mine, the curse is mine, Tyrfingr is mine, the curse is mine. Tyrfingr is mine, the curse is mine, Tyrfingr is mine, the curse is mine.

Story Behind The Song

Hervarar saga ok Heiðreks tells of Hervör, daughter of the berserk Angantýr. She grew up doing what the saga calls men's work, took up weapons, and for a time lived as an outlaw under the name Hervarðr. The sword Tyrfingr was made by dwarves under compulsion, and they cursed it: it would kill a man every time it was drawn, and it would be the death of three people in the family. Angantýr was buried with it on Samsey after falling there. Hervör sailed to the island alone. The crew would not go ashore because the mounds burned with grave-fire at night. She went up anyway and called her father by name until he answered. The exchange in the poem is an argument. Angantýr tells her what the sword is and refuses her, saying no woman should carry it and that it will destroy her line. She answers that she does not care what it costs and asks again. He gives it to her. The song keeps her side of it: the curse is real, she has been told exactly what it will do, and she takes it as her inheritance anyway.

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