PART THREE

All known versions of the Völuspá end with a final, cryptic phrase uttered by the völva: “Now I must descend.” By this the seeress indicates that she has finally said enough, and it is time to sink back into the underworld; back to the land of the dead.

These final passages in particular have caused much controversy regarding the date and character of the poem. That the poem is of pagan origin and not Christian seems almost beyond dispute; there is an intensity and vividness in almost every stanza which no practicing Christian could possibly have achieved. On the other hand, the evidence of Christian influence is sufficiently striking to outweigh the arguments of Larrington, Sturluson and others who maintain that the Völuspá is purely a product of heathendom.

Even though very few tribes had yet to accept Christianity, the roving Norsemen of the tenth century were nevertheless in close contact with the Celts and other cultures which had already been converted, and in many ways the early Christian influence was strongly felt in the region. It seems likely then that the Völuspá was the work of a poet (or poets) living primarily in Iceland in the middle of the tenth century. Whoever composed the Völuspá was a fervent believer in the old gods, yet blessed with an imagination active enough to be influenced by the vague tales of a different religion emanating from his contemporaries in the south.

It is clear that whatever competing forces led to the creation of the Völuspá in its final form, the epic saga is deeply embedded with many of the fundamental magical elements inherent not only in Norse mythology but also in the more general, universal concepts of magic and Apocrypha which were envisioned at the time of its creation.

The Völuspá incorporates virtually every major magical foundation represented in the ideology of the Nordic legends – including divination, necromancy, the use of sorcery; mythical creatures such as dragons, trolls and giants – along with innovative conceptions of free will, access to hidden knowledge, human destiny and the eventual fate of the world.

How much the poem was altered during the two hundred years between its composition and its first being committed to writing is anyone’s guess, but allowing for occasional errors and interpolations, it seems pointless to speculate, as many historians do. The poem was certainly not composed to tell a complete story; the lack of continuity and a few gaping holes which baffle modern scholars presumably did not trouble the author(s) very much.

The Völuspá is, in effect, a series of analogies and allegories arranged into prose with a directness and assuredness which indicates pure poetic genius. Once these facts are acknowledged, the reader can begin to understand the effect this magnificent poem must have produced on those who not only understood it – but those who believed it as well.