Excerpts from the Poetic Edda.
Part of the Second Lay of Helgi Hundings-Bane 53
Helgi wedded Sigrun, and they begate sons together, but Helgi lived not to be old; for Dag, 54 the son of Hogni, sacrificed to Odin, praying that he might avenge his father. So Odin lent Dag his spear, and Dag met Helgi, his brother-inlaw, at a place called Fetter-grove, and thrust him through with that spear, and there fell Helgi dead; but Dag rode to Sevafell, and told Sigrun of the news.
DAG:
Loth am I, sister
Of sorrow to tell the,
For by hard need driven
Have I drawn on the greeting;
This morning fell
In Fetter-grove
The king well deemed
The best in the wide world,
Yea, he who stood
On the necks of the strong.”
SIGRUN:
All oaths once sworn
Shall bite thee sore,
The oaths that to Helgi
Once thou swarest
At the bright white
Water of Lightening, 55
And at the cold rock
That the sea runneth over.
May the ship sweep not on
That should sweep at its swiftest,
Though the wind desired
Behind thee driveth!
May the horse never run
That should run at his most might
When from thy foe’s face
Thou hast most need to flee!
May the sword never bite
That thou drawest from scabbard
But and if round thine head
In wrath it singeth!
Then should meet price be paid
For Helgi’s slaying
When a wolf thou wert
Out in the wild-wood,
Empty of good things
Empty of gladness,
With no meat for thy mouth
But dead men’s corpses!
DAG:
With mad words thou ravest,
Thy wits are gone from thee,
When thou for thy brother
Such ill fate biddest;
Odin alone
Let all this bale loose,
Casting the strife-runes
‘Twixt friends and kindred.
Rings of red gold
Will thy brother give thee,
And the stead of Vandil
And the lands of Vigdale;
Have half of the land
For thy sorrow’s healing,
O ring-arrayed sweetling
For thee and thy sons!
SIGRUN:
No more sit I happy
At Sevafell;
At day-dawn, at night
Naught love I my life
Till broad o’er the people
My lord’s light breaketh;
Till his war-horse runneth
Beneath him hither,
Well wont to the gold bit —
Till my king I welcome.
In such wise did Helgi
Deal fear around
To all his foes
And all their friends
As when the goat runneth
Before the wolf’s rage
Filled with mad fear
Down from the fell.
As high above all lords
Did Helgi beat him
As the ash-tree’s glory
From the thorn ariseth,
Or as the fawn
With the dew-fell sprinkled
Is far above
All other wild things,
As his horns go gleaming
‘Gainst the very heavens.
A barrow was raised above Helgi, but when he came in Valhall, then Odin bade him be lord of all things there, even as he; so Helgi sang —
HELGI:
Now shalt thou, Hunding
For the help of each man
Get ready the foot-bath,
And kindle the fire;
The hounds shalt thou bind
And give heed to the horses,
Give wash to the swine
Ere to sleep thou goest.
A bondmaid of Sigrun went in the evening-tide by Helgi’s mound, and there saw how Helgi rode toward it with a great company; then she sang —
BONDMAID:
It is vain things’ beguilling
That methinks I behold,
Or the ending of all things,
As ye ride, O ye dead men,
Smiting with spurs
Your horses’ sides?
Or may dead warriors
Wend their ways homeward?
THE DEAD:
No vain things’ beguiling
Is that thou beholdest,
Nor the ruin of all things;
Though thou lookest upon us,
Though we smite with spurs
Our horses’ sides;
Rather dead warriors
May wend their ways homeward.
Then went the bondmaid home, and told Sigrun, and sang —
BONDMAID:
Go out, Sigrun
From Sevafell,
If thou listest to look on
The lord of thy people!
For the mound is uncovered
Thither is Helgi come,
And his wounds are bleeding,
But the king thee biddeth
To come and stay
That stream of sorrow.
So Sigrun went into the mound to Helgi, and sang —
SIGRUN:
Now am I as fain
Of this fair meeting,
As are the hungry
Hawks of Odin,
When they wot of the slaying
Of the yet warm quarry,
Or bright with dew
See the day a-dawning.
Ah, I will kiss
My king laid lifeless,
Ere thou castest by
Thy blood-stained byrny.
O Helgi, thy hair
Is thick with death’s rime,
With the dew of the dead
Is my love all dripping;
Dead-cold are the hands
Of the son of Hogni;
How for thee, O my king,
May I win healing?
HELGI:
Thou alone, Sigrun
Of Sevafell,
Hast so done that Helgi
With grief’s dew drippeth;
O clad in gold
Cruel tears thou weepest,
Bright May of the Southlands,
Or ever thou sleepest;
Each tear in blood falleth
On the breast of thy lord,
Cold wet and bitter-sharp
Swollen with sorrow.
Ah, we shall drink
Dear draughts and lovely,
Though, we have lost
Both life and lands;
Neither shall any
Sing song of sorrow,
Though in my breast
Be wounds wide to behold:
For now are brides
In the mound abiding;
Kings’ daughters sit
By us departed.
Bow Sigrun arrayed a bed in the mound, and sang —
SIGRUN:
Here, Helgi, for thee
A bed have I dight,
Kind without woe,
O kin of the Ylfings!
To thy bosom, O king,
Will I come and sleep soft,
As I was wont
When my lord was living.
HELGI:
Now will I call
Naught not to be hoped for
Early or late
At Sevafell,
When thou in the arms
Of a dead man art laid,
White maiden of Hogni,
Here in the mound:
And thou yet quick,
O King’s daughter!
Now needs must I ride
On the reddening ways;
My pale horse must tread
The highway aloft;
West must I go
To Windhelm’s bridge
Ere the war-winning crowd
Hall-crower 56 waketh.
So Helgi rode his ways: and the others gat them gone home to the house. But the next night Sigrun bade the bondwoman have heed of the mound. So at nightfall, thenas Sigrun came to the mound, she sang:
SIGRUN:
Here now would he come,
If to come he were minded;
Sigmund’s offspring
From the halls of Odin.
O me the hope waneth
Of Helgi’s coming;
For high on the ash-boughs
Are the ernes abiding,
And all folk drift
Toward the Thing of the dreamland.
BONDMAID:
Be not foolish of heart,
And fare all alone
To the house of the dead,
O Hero’s daughter!
For more strong and dreadful
In the night season
Are all dead warriors
Than in the daylight.
But a little while lived Sigrun, because of her sorrow and trouble. But in old time folk trowed that men should be born again, though their troth be now deemed but an old wife’s dotting. And so, as folk say, Helgi and Sigrun were born again, and at that tide was he called Helgi the Scathe of Hadding, and she Kara the daughter of Halfdan; and she was a Valkyrie, even as is said in the Lay of Kara.
53 Only that part of the song is given which completes the episodes of Helgi Hunding’s-bane; the earlier part of the song differs little from the Saga.
54 Hogni, the father of Dar and Sigrun, had been slain by Helgi in battle, and Helgi had given peace to, and taken oaths of Dag.
55 One of the rivers of the under-world.
56 Hall-crower, “Salgofnir”: lit. Hall-gaper, the cock of Valhall.
Part of the Lay of Sigrdrifa 57
Now this is my first counsel,
That thou with thy kin
Be guiltless, guileless ever,
Nor hasty of wrath,
Despite of wrong done —
Unto the dead good that doeth.
Lo the second counsel,
That oath thou swearest never,
But trusty oath and true:
Grim tormenting
Gripes troth-breakers;
Cursed wretch is the wolf of vows.
This is my third rede,
That thou at the Thing
Deal not with the fools of folk;
For unwise man
From mouth lets fall
Worser word than well he wotteth.
Yet hard it is
That holding of peace
When men shall deem thee dastard,
Or deem the lie said soothly;
But woeful is home-witness,
Unless right good thou gettest it.
Ah, on another day
Drive the life from out him,
And pay the liar back for his lying.
Now behold the fourth rede:
If ill witch thee bideth,
Woe-begatting by the way,
Good going further
Rather than guesting,
Though thick night be on thee.
Far-seeing eyes
Need all sons of men
Who wend in wrath to war;
For baleful women
Bide oft by the highway,
Swords and hearts to soften.
And now the fifth rede:
As fair as thou seest
Brides on the bench abiding,
Let not love’s silver
Rule over thy sleeping;
Draw no woman to kind kissing!
For the sixth thing, I rede
When men sit a-drinking
Amid ale-words and ill-words,
Dead thou naught
With the drunken fight-staves
For wine stealeth wit from many.
Brawling and drink
Have brought unto men
Sorrow sore oft enow;
Yea, bane unto some,
And to some weary bale;
Many are the griefs of mankind.
For the seventh, I rede thee,
If strife thou raisest
With a man right high of heart,
Better fight a-field
Than burn in the fire
Within thine hall fair to behold.
The eighth rede that I give thee:
Unto all ill look thou,
And hold thine heart from all beguiling;
Draw to thee no maiden,
No man’s wife bewray thou,
Urge them not unto unmeet pleasure.
This is the ninth counsel:
That thou have heed of dead folk
Whereso thou findest them a-field;
Be they sick-dead,
Be they sea-dead,
Or come to ending by war-weapons.
Let bath be made
For such men fordone,
Wash thou hands and feet thereof,
Comb their hair and dry them
Ere the coffin has them;
Then bid them sleep full sweetly.
This for the tenth counsel:
That thou give trust never
Unto oaths of foeman’s kin,
Be’st thou bane of his brother,
Or hast thou felled his father;
Wolf in young son waxes,
Though he with gold be gladdened.
For wrong and hatred
Shall rest them never,
Nay, nor sore sorrow.
Both wit and weapons
Well must the king have
Who is fain to be the foremost.
The last rede and eleventh:
Until all ill look thou.
And watch thy friends’ ways ever
Scarce durst I look
For long life for thee, king:
Strong trouble ariseth now already.
57 This continues the first part of the lay given in Chapter XX of the Saga; and is, in fact, the original verse of Chapter xxi.
The Lay Called the Short Lay of Sigurd.
Sigurd of yore,
Sought the dwelling of Giuki,
As he fared, the young Volsung,
After fight won;
Troth he took
From the two brethren;
Oath swore they betwixt them,
Those bold ones of deed.
A may they gave to him
And wealth manifold,
Gudrun the young,
Giuki’s daughter:
They drank and gave doom
Many days together,
Sigurd the young,
And the sons of Giuki.
Until they wended
For Brynhild’s wooing,
Sigurd a-riding
Amidst their rout;
The wise young Volsung
Who knew of all ways —
Ah! He had wed her,
Had fate so willed it.
Southlander Sigurd
A naked sword,
Bright, well grinded,
Laid betwixt them;
No kiss he won
From the fair woman,
Nor in arms of his
Did the Hun King hold her,
Since he gat the young maid
For the son of Giuki.
No lack in her life
She wotted of now,
And at her death-day
No dreadful thing
For a shame indeed
Or a shame in seeming;
But about and betwixt
Went baleful fate.
Alone, abroad,
She sat of an evening,
Of full many things
She fall a-talking:
“O for my Sigurd!
I shall have death,
Or my fair, my lovely,
Laid in mine arms.
“For the word once spoken,
I sorrow sorely —
His queen is Gudrun,
I am wed to Gunnar;
The dread Norns wrought for us
A long while of woe.”
Oft with heart deep
In dreadful thoughts,
O’er ice-fields and ice-hills
She fared a-night time,
When he and Gudrun
Were gone to their fair bed,
And Sigurd wrapped
The bed-gear round her.
“Ah! Now the Hun King
His queen in arms holdeth,
While love I go lacking,
And all things longed for
With no delight
But in dreadful thought.”
These dreadful things
Thrust her toward murder:
— “Listen, Gunnar,
For thou shalt lose
My wide lands,
Yea, me myself!
Never love I my life,
With thee for my lord —
“I will fare back thither
From whence I came,
To my nighest kin
And those that know me
There shall I sit
Sleeping my life away,
Unless thou slayest
Sigurd the Hun King,
Making thy might more
E’en than his might was!
“Yea, let the son fare
After the father,
And no young wolf
A long while nourish!
For on earth man lieth
Vengeance lighter,
And peace shall be surer
If the son live not.”
Adrad was Gunnar,
Heavy-hearted was he,
And in doubtful mood
Day-long he sat.
For naught he wotted,
Nor might see clearly
What was the seemliest
Of deeds to set hand to;
What of all deeds
Was best to be done:
For he minded the vows
Sworn to the Volsung,
And the sore wrong
To be wrought against Sigurd.
Wavered his mind
A weary while,
No wont it was
Of those days worn by,
That queens should flee
From the realms of their kings.
“Brynhild to me
Is better than all,
The child of Budli
Is the best of women.
Yea, and my life
Will I lay down,
Ere I am twinned
From that woman’s treasure.”
He bade call Hogni
To the place where he bided;
With all the trust that might be,
Trowed he in him.
“Wilt thou bewray Sigurd
For his wealth’s sake?
Good it is to rule
O’er the Rhine’s metal;
And well content
Great wealth to wield,
Biding in peace
And blissful days.”
One thing alone Hogni
Had for an answer:
“Such doings for us
Are naught seemly to do;
To rend with sword
Oaths once sworn,
Oaths once sworn,
And troth once plighted.
“Nor know we on mould,
Men of happier days,
The while we four
Rule over the folk;
While the bold in battle,
The Hun King, bides living.
“And no nobler kin
Shall be known afield,
If our five sons
We long may foster;
Yea, a goodly stem
Shall surely wax.
— But I clearly see
In what wise it standeth,
Brynhild’s sore urging
O’ermuch on thee beareth.
“Guttorm shall we
Get for the slaying,
Our younger brother
Bare of wisdom;
For he was out of
All the oaths sworn,
All the oaths sworn,
And the plighted troth.”
Easy to rouse him
Who of naught recketh!
— Deep stood the sword
In the heart of Sigurd.
There, in the hall,
Gat the high-hearted vengeance;
For he can his sword
At the reckless slayer:
Out at Guttorm
Flew Gram the mighty,
The gleaming steel
From Sigurd’s hand.
Down fell the slayer
Smitten asunder;
The heavy head
And the hands fell one way,
But the feet and such like
Aback where they stood.
Gudrun was sleeping
Soft in the bed,
Empty of sorrow
By the side of Sigurd:
When she awoke
With all pleasure gone,
Swimming in blood
Of Frey’s beloved.
So sore her hands
She smote together,
That the great-hearted
Gat raised in bed;
— “O Gudrun, weep not
So woefully,
Sweet lovely bride,
For thy brethren live for thee!
“A young child have I
For heritor;
Too young to win forth
From the house of his foes. —
Black deeds and ill
Have they been a-doing,
Evil rede
Have they wrought at last.
“Late, late, rideth with them
Unto the Thing,
Such sister’s son,
Though seven thou bear, —
— But well I wot
Which way all goeth;
Alone wrought Brynhild
This bale against us.
“That maiden loved me
Far before all men,
Yet wrong to Gunnar
I never wrought;
Brotherhood I heeded
And all bounden oaths,
That none should deem me
His queen’s darling.”
Weary sighed Gudrun,
As the king gat ending,
And so sore her hands
She smote together,
That the cups arow
Rang out therewith,
And the geese cried on high
That were in the homefield.
Then laughed Brynhild
Budli’s daughter,
Once, once only,
From out her heart;
When to her bed
Was borne the sound
Of the sore greeting
Of Giuki’s daughter.
Then, quoth Gunnar,
The king, the hawk-bearer,
“Whereas, thou laughest,
O hateful woman,
Glad on thy bed,
No good it betokeneth:
Why lackest thou else
Thy lovely hue?
Feeder of foul deeds,
Fey do I deem thee,
“Well worthy art thou
Before all women,
That thine eyes should see
Atli slain of us;
That thy brother’s wounds
Thou shouldest see a-bleeding,
That his bloody hurts
Thine hands should bind.”
“No man blameth thee, Gunnar,
Thou hast fulfilled death’s measure
But naught Atli feareth
All thine ill will;
Life shall he lay down
Later than ye,
And still bear more might
Aloft than thy might.
“I shall tell thee, Gunnar,
Though well the tale thou knowest,
In what early days
Ye dealt abroad your wrong:
Young was I then,
Worn with no woe,
Good wealth I had
In the house of my brother!
“No mind had I
That a man should have me,
Or ever ye Giukings,
Rode into our garth;
There ye sat on your steeds
Three kings of the people —
— Ah! That that faring
Had never befallen!
“Then spake Atli
To me apart,
And said that no wealth
He would give unto me,
Neither gold nor lands
If I would not be wedded;
Nay, and no part
Of the wealth apportioned,
Which in my first days
He gave me duly;
Which in my first days
He counted down.
“Wavered the mind
Within me then,
If to fight I should fall
And the felling of folk,
Bold in Byrny
Because of my brother;
A deed of fame
Had that been to all folk,
But to many a man
Sorrow of mind.
“So I let all sink
Into peace at the last:
More grew I minded
For the mighty treasure,
The red-shining rings
Of Sigmund’s son;
For no man’s wealth else
Would I take unto me.
“For myself had I given
To that great king
Who sat amid gold
On the back of Grani;
Nought were his eyes
Like to your eyen,
Nor in any wise
Went his visage with yours;
Though ye might deem you
Due kings of men.
“One I loved,
One, and none other,
The gold-decked may
Had no doubtful mind;
Thereof shall Atli
Wot full surely,
When he getteth to know
I am gone to the dead.
“Far be it from me,
Feeble and wavering,
Ever to love
Another’s love —
— Yes shall my woe
Be well avenged.”
Up rose Gunnar,
The great men’s leader,
And cast his arms
About the queen’s neck;
And all went nigh
One after other,
With their whole hearts
Her heart to turn.
But then all these
From her neck she thrust,
Of her long journey
No man should let her.
Then called he Hogni
To have talk with him;
“Let all folk go
Forth into the hall,
Thine with mine —
— O need sore and mighty! —
To wot if we yet
My wife’s parting may stay.
Till with time’s wearing
Some hindrance wax.”
One answer Hogni
Had for all;
“Nay, let hard need
Have rule thereover,
And no man let her
Of her long journey!
Never born again,
May she come back thence!
“Luckless she came
To the lap of her mother,
Born into the world
For utter woe,
TO many a man
For heart-whole mourning.”
Upraised he turned
From the talk and the trouble,
To where the gem-field
Dealt out goodly treasure;
As she looked and beheld
All the wealth that she had,
And the hungry bondmaids,
And maids of the hall.
With no good in her heart
She donned her gold byrny,
Ere she thrust the sword point
Through the midst of her body:
On the boister’s far side
Sank she adown,
And, smitten with sword,
Still bethought her of redes.
“Let all come forth
Who are fain the red gold,
Or things less worthy
To win from my hands;
To each one I give
A necklace gilt over,
Wrought hangings and bed=gear,
And bright woven weed.”
All they kept silence,
And thought what to speak,
Then all at once
Answer gave:
“Full enow are death-doomed,
Fain are we to live yet,
Maids of the hall
All meet work winning.”
“From her wise heart at last
The linen-clad damsel,
The one of few years
Gave forth the word:
“I will that none driven
By hand or by word,
For our sake should lose
Well-loved life.
“Thou on the bones of you
Surely shall burn,
Less dear treasure
At your departing
Nor with Menia’s Meal 58
Shall ye come to see me.”
“Sit thee down, Gunnar,
A word must I say to thee
Of the life’s ruin
Of thy lightsome bride —
— Nor shall thy ship
Swim soft and sweetly
For all that I
Lay life adown.
“Sooner than ye might deem
Shall ye make peace with Gudrun,
For the wise woman
Shall full in the young wife
The hard memory
Of her dead husband.
“There is a may born
Reared by her mother,
Whiter and brighter
Than is the bright day;
She shall be Swanhild,
She shall be Sunbeam.
“Thou shalt give Gudrun
Unto a great one,
Noble, well-praised
Of the world’s folk;
Not with her goodwill,
Or love shalt thou give her;
Yet will Atli
Come to win her,
My very brother,
Born of Budli.
— “Ah! Many a memory
Of how ye dealt with me,
How sorely, how evilly
Ye ever beguiled me,
How all pleasure left me
The while my life lasted! —
“Fain wilt thou be
Oddrun to win,
But thy good liking
Shall Atli let;
But in secret wise
Shall ye win together,
And she shall love thee
As I had loved thee,
If in such wise
Fare had willed it.
“But with all ill
Shall Atli sting thee,
Into the strait worm-close
Shall he cast thee.
“But no long space
Shall slip away
Ere Atli too
All life shall lose,
Yea, all his weal
With the life of his sons,
For a dreadful bed
Dights Gudrun for him,
From a heart sore laden,
With the sword’s sharp edge.
“More seemly for Gudrun,
Your very sister,
In death to wend after
Her love first wed;
Had but good rede
To her been given,
Or if her heart
Had been like to my heart.
— “Faint my speech groweth —
But for our sake
Ne’er shall she lose
Her life beloved;
The sea shall have her,
High billows bear her
Forth unto Jonakr’s
Fair land of his fathers.
“There shall she bear sons,
Stays of a heritage,
Stays of a heritage,
Jonakr’s sons;
And Swanhild shall she
Send from the land,
That may born of her,
The may born of Sigurd.
“Her shall bite
The rede of Bikki,
Whereas for no good
Wins Jormunrek life;
And so is clean perished
All the kin of Sigurd,
Yea, and more greeting,
And more for Gudrun.
“And now one prayer
Yet pray I of thee —
That last word of mine
Here in the world —
So broad on the field
Be the burg of the dead
That fair space may be left
For us all to lie down,
All those that died
At Sigurd’s death!
“Hang round that burg
Fair hangings and shields,
Web by Gauls woven,
And folk of the Gauls:
There burn the Hun King
Lying beside me.
“But on the other side
Burn by the Hun King
Those who served me
Strewn with treasure;
Two at the head,
And two at the feet,
Two hounds therewith,
And two hawks moreover:
Then is all dealt
With even dealing.
“Lay there amidst us
The right-dight metal,
The sharp-edged steel,
That so lay erst;
When we both together
Into one bed went,
And were called by the name
Of man and wife.
“Never, then, belike
Shall clash behind him
Valhall’s bright door
With rings bedight:
And if my fellowship
Followeth after,
In no wretched wise
Then shall we wend.
“For him shall follow
My five bondmaids,
My eight bondsmen,
No borel folk:
Yea, and my fosterer,
And my father’s dower
That Budli of old days
Gave to his dear child.
“Much have I spoken,
More would I speak,
If the sword would give me
Space for speech;
But my words are waning,
My wounds are swelling —
Naught but truth have I told —
— And now make I ending.”
58 “Menia’s Maid” — periphrasis for gold.
THE HELL-RIDE OF BRYNHILD.
After the death of Brynhild were made two bales, one for Sigurd, and that was first burned; but Brynhild was burned on the other, and she was in a chariot hung about with goodly hangings.
And so folk say that Brynhild drave in her chariot down along the way to Hell, and passed by an abode where dwelt a certain giantess, and the giantess spake:—
THE GIANT-WOMAN
“Nay, with my goodwill
Never goest thou
Through this stone-pillared
Stead of mine!
More seemly for thee
To sit sewing the cloth,
Than to go look on
The love of another.
“What dost thou, going
From the land of the Gauls,
O restless head,
To this mine house?
Golden girl, hast thou not,
If thou listest to hearken,
In sweet wise from thy hands
The blood of men washen?”
BRYNHILD
“Nay, blame me naught,
Bride of the rock-hall,
Though I roved a warring
In the days that were;
The higher of us twain
Shall I ever be holden
When of our kind
Men make account.”
THE GIANT-WOMAN
“Thou, O Brynhild,
Budli’s daughter,
Wert the worst ever born
Into the world;
For Giuki’s children
Death hast thou gotten,
And turned to destruction
Their goodly dwelling.”
BRYNHILD
“I shall tell thee
True tale from my chariot,
O thou who naught wottest,
If thou listest to wot;
How for me they have gotten
Those heirs of Giuki,
A loveless life,
A life of lies.
“Hild under helm,
The Hlymdale people,
E’en those who knew me,
Ever would call me.
“The changeful shapes
Of us eight sisters,
The wise king bade
Under oak-tree to bear;
Of twelve winters was I,
If thou listest to wot,
When I sware to the young lord
Oaths of love.
“Thereafter gat I
Mid the folk of the Goths,
For Helmgunnar the old,
Swift journey to Hell,
And gave to Aud’s brother
The young, gain and glory;
Whereof overwrath
Waxed Odin with me.
“So he shut me in shield-wall
In Skata grove,
Red shields and white
Close set around me;
And bade him alone
My slumber to break
Who in no land
Knew how to fear.
“He set round my hall,
Toward the south quarter,
The Bane of all trees
Burning aloft;
And ruled that he only
Thereover should ride
Who should bring me the gold
O’er which Fafnir brooded.
“Then upon Grani rode
The goodly gold-strewer
To where my fosterer
Ruled his fair dwelling.
He who alone there
Was deemed best of all,
The War-lord of the Danes,
Well worthy of men.
“In peace did we sleep
Soft in one bed,
As though he had been
Naught but my brother:
There as we lay
Through eight nights wearing,
No hand in love
On each other we laid.
“Yet thence blamed me, Gudrun,
Giuki’s daughter,
That I had slept
In the arms of Sigurd;
And then I wotted
As I fain had not wotted,
That they had bewrayed me
In my betrothals.
“Ah! For unrest
All too long
Are men and women
Made alive!
Yet we twain together
Shall wear through the ages,
Sigurd and I. —
— Sink adown, O giant-wife!”
FRAGMENTS OF THE LAY OF BRYNHILD
HOGNI SAID:
“What hath wrought Sigurd
Of any wrong-doing
That the life of the famed one
Thou art fain of taking?”
GUNNAR SAID:
“To me has Sigurd
Sworn many oaths,
Sworn many oaths,
And sworn them lying,
And he bewrayed me
When it behoved him
Of all folk to his troth
To be the most trusty.”
HOGNI SAID:
“Thee hath Brynhild
Unto all bale,
And all hate whetted,
And a work of sorrow;
For she grudges to Gudrun
All goodly life;
And to thee the bliss
Of her very body.”
*******
Some the wolf roasted,
Some minced the worm,
Some unto Guttorm
Gave the wolf-meat,
Or ever they might
In their lust for murder
On the high king
Lay deadly hand.
Sigurd lay slain
On the south of the Rhine
High from the fair tree
Croaked forth the raven,
“Ah, yet shall Atli
On you redden edges,
The old oaths shall weigh
On your souls, O warriors.”
Without stood Gudrun,
Giuki’s daughter,
And the first word she said
Was even this word:
“Where then is Sigurd,
Lord of the Warfolk,
Since my kin
Come riding the foremost?
One word Hogni
Had for an answer:
“Our swords have smitten
Sigurd asunder,
And the grey horse hangs drooping
O’er his lord lying dead.”
Then quoth Brynhild,
Budli’s daughter;
“Good weal shall ye have
Of weapons and lands,
That Sigurd alone
Would surely have ruled
If he had lived
But a little longer.
“Ah, nothing seemly
For Sigurd to rule
Giuki’s house
And the folk of the Goths,
When of him five sons
For the slaying of men,
Eager for battle,
Should have been begotten!”
Then laughed Brynhild —
Loud rang the whole house —
One laugh only
From out her heart:
“Long shall your bliss be
Of lands and people,
Whereas the famed lord
You have felled to the earth!”
Then spake Gudrun,
Giuki’s daughter;
“Much thou speakest,
Many things fearful,
All grame be on Gunnar
The bane of Sigurd!
From a heart full of hate
Shall come heavy vengeance.”
Forth sped the even
Enow there was drunken,
Full enow was there
Of all soft speech;
And all men got sleep
When to bed they were gotten;
Gunnar only lay waking
Long after all men.
His feet fell he to moving,
Fell to speak to himself
The waster of men,
Still turned in his mind
What on the bough
Those twain would be saying,
The raven and erne,
As they rode their ways homeward.
But Brynhild awoke,
Budli’s daughter,
May of the shield-folk,
A little ere morning:
“Thrust ye on, hold ye back,
— Now all harm is wrought, —
To tell of my sorrow,
Or to let all slip by me?”
All kept silence
After her speaking,
None might know
That woman’s mind,
Or why she must weep
To tell of the work
That laughing once
Of men she prayed.
BRYNHILD SPAKE:
“In dreams, O Gunnar,
Grim things fell on me;
Dead-cold the hall was,
And my bed was a-cold,
And thou, lord, wert riding
Reft of all bliss,
Laden with fetters
‘Mid the host of thy foemen.”
“So now all ye,
O House of the Niblungs,
Shall be brought to naught,
O ye oath-breakers!
“Think’st thou not, Gunnar,
How that betid,
When ye let the blood run
Both in one footstep?
With ill reward
Hast thou rewarded
His heart so fain
To be the foremost!
“As well was seen
When he rode his ways,
That king of all worth,
Unto my wooing;
How the host-destroyer
Held to the vows
Sworn beforetime,
Sworn to the young king.
“For his wounding-wand
All wrought with gold,
The king beloved
Laid between us;
Without were its edges
Wrought with fire,
But with venom-drops
Deep dyed within.”
Thus this song telleth of the death of Sigurd, and setteth forth how that they slew him without doors; but some say that they slew him within doors, sleeping in his bed. But the Dutch Folk say that they slew him out in the wood: and so sayeth the ancient song of Gudrun, that Sigurd and the sons of Giuki were riding to the Thing whenas he was slain. But all with one accord say that they bewrayed him in their troth with him, and fell on him as he lay unarrayed and unawares.
THE SECOND OR ANCIENT LAY OF GUDRUN.
Thiodrek the King was in Atli’s house, and had lost there the more part of his men: so there Thiodrek and Gudrun bewailed their troubles one to the other, and she spake and said:—
A may of all mays
My mother reared me
Bright in bower;
Well loved I my brethren,
Until that Giuki
With gold arrayed me,
With gold arrayed me,
And gave me to Sigurd.
Such was my Sigurd,
Among the sons of Giuki
As is the green leek
O’er the low grass waxen,
Or a hart high-limbed
Over hurrying deer,
Or glede-red gold
Over grey silver.
Till me they begrudged,
Those my brethren,
The fate to have him,
Who was first of all men;
Nor might they sleep,
Nor sit a-dooming,
Ere they let slay
My well-loved Sigurd.
Grani ran to the Thing,
There was clatter to hear,
But never came Sigurd
Himself thereunto;
All the saddle-girt beasts
With blood were besprinkled,
As faint with the way
Neath the slayers they went.
Then greeting I went
With Grani to talk,
And with tear-furrowed cheeks
I bade him tell all;
But drooping laid Grani,
His head in the grass,
For the steed well wotted
Of his master’s slaying.
A long while I wandered,
Long my mind wavered,
Ere the kings I might ask
Concerning my king.
Then Gunnar hung head,
But Hogni told
Of the cruel slaying
Of my Sigurd:
“On the water’s far side
Lies, smitten to death,
The bane of Guttorm
To the wolves given over.
“Go, look on Sigurd,
On the ways that go southward,
There shalt thou hear
The ernes high screaming,
The ravens a-croaking
As their meat they crave for;
Thou shalt hear the wolves howling
Over thine husband.
“How hast thou, Hogni,
The heart to tell me,
Me of joy made empty,
Of such misery?
Thy wretched heart
May the ravens tear
Wide over the world,
With no men mayst thou wend.”
One thing Hogni
Had for answer,
Fallen from his high heart,
Full of all trouble:
“More greeting yet,
O Gudrun, for thee,
If my heart the ravens
Should rend asunder!”
Thence I turned
From the talk and the trouble
To go a leasing 59
What the wolves had left me;
No sigh I made
No smote hands together,
Nor did I wail
As other women
When I sat over
My Sigurd slain.
Night methought it,
And the moonless dark,
When I sat in sorrow
Over Sigurd;
Better than all things
I deemed it would be
If they would let me
Cast my life by,
Or burn me up
As they burn the birch-wood.
From the fell I wandered
Five days together,
Until the high hall
Of Half lay before me;
Seven seasons there
I sat with Thora,
The daughter of Hacon,
Up in Denmark.
My heart to gladden
With gold she wrought
Southland halls
And swans of the Dane-folk;
There had we painted
The chiefs a-playing;
Fair our hands wrought
Folk of the kings.
Red shields we did,
Doughty knights of the Huns,
Hosts spear-dight, hosts helm-dight,
All a high king’s fellows;
And the ships of Sigmund
From the land swift sailing;
Heads gilt over
And prows fair graven.
On the cloth we broidered
That tide of their battling,
Siggeir and Siggar,
South in Fion.
Then heard Grimhild,
The Queen of Gothland,
How I was abiding,
Weighed down with woe;
And she thrust the cloth from her
And called to her sons,
And oft and eagerly
Asked them thereof,
Who for her son
Would their sister atone,
Who for her lord slain
Would lay down weregild.
Fain was Gunnar
Gold to lay down
All wrongs to atone for,
And Hogni in likewise;
Then she asked who was fain
Of faring straightly,
The steed to saddle
To set forth the wain,
The horse to back,
And the hawk to fly,
To shoot forth the arrow
From out the yew-bow.
Valdarr the Dane-king
Came with Jarisleif
Eymod the third went
Then went Jarizskar;
In kingly wise
In they wended,
The host of the Longbeards;
Red cloaks had they,
Byrnies short-cut,
Helms strong hammered,
Girt with glaives,
And hair red-gleaming.
Each would give me
Gifts desired,
Gifts desired,
Speech dear to my heart,
If they might yet,
Despite my sorrow,
Win back my trust,
But in them nought I trusted.
Then brought me Grimhild
A beaker to drink of,
Cold and bitter,
Wrong’s memory to quench;
Made great was that drink
With the might of the earth,
With the death-cold sea
And the blood that Son 60 holdeth.
On that horn’s face were there
All the kin of letters
Cut aright and reddened,
How should I rede them rightly?
The ling-fish long
Of the land of Hadding,
Wheat-ears unshorn,
And wild things’ inwards.
In that mead were mingled
Many ills together,
Blood of all the wood,
And brown-burnt acorns;
The black dew of the hearth, 61
And god-doomed dead beasts’ inwards
And the swine’s liver sodden,
For wrongs late done that deadens.
Then waned my memory
When that was within me,
Of my lord ‘mid the hall
By the iron laid low.
Three kings came
Before my knees
Ere she herself
Fell to speech with me.
“I will give to thee, Gudrun,
Gold to be glad with,
All the great wealth
Of thy father gone from us,
Rings of red gold
And the great hall of Lodver,
And all fair hangings left
By the king late fallen.
“Maids of the Huns
Woven pictures to make,
And work fair in gold
Till thou deem’st thyself glad.
Alone shalt thou rule
O’er the riches of Budli,
Shalt be made great with gold,
And be given to Atli.”
“Never will I
Wend to a husband,
Or wed the brother
Of Queen Brynhild;
Naught it beseems me
With the son of Budli
Kin to bring forth,
Or to live and be merry.”
“Nay, the high chiefs
Reward not with hatred,
For take heed that I
Was the first in this tale!
To thy heart shall it be
As if both these had life,
Sigurd and Sigmund,
When thou hast borne sons.”
“Naught may I, Grimhild,
Seek after gladness,
Nor deem aught hopeful
Of any high warrior,
Since wolf and raven
Were friends together,
The greedy, the cruel,
O’er great Sigurd’s heart-blood.”
“Of all men that can be
For the noblest of kin
This king have I found,
And the foremost of all;
Him shalt thou have
Till with eld thou art heavy —
Be thou ever unwed,
If thou wilt naught of him!”
“Nay, nay, bid me not
With thy words long abiding
To take unto me
That balefullest kin;
This king shall bid Gunnar
Be stung to his bane,
And shall cut the heart
From out of Hogni.
“Nor shall I leave life
Ere the keen lord,
The eager in sword-play,
My hand shall make end of.”
Grimhild a-weeping
Took up the word then,
When the sore bale she wotted
Awaiting her sons,
And the bane hanging over
Her offspring beloved.
“I will give thee, moreover,
Great lands, many men,
Wineberg and Valberg,
If thou wilt but have them;
Hold them lifelong,
And live happy, O daughter!”
“Then him must I take
From among kingly men,
‘Gainst my heart’s desire,
From the hands of my kinsfolk;
But no joy I look
To have from that lord:
Scarce may my brother’s bane
Be a shield to my sons.”
Soon was each warrior
Seen on his horse,
But the Gaulish women
Into wains were gotten;
Then seven days long
O’er a cold land we rode,
And for seven other
Clove we the sea-waves.
But with the third seven
O’er dry land we wended.
There the gate-wardens
Of the burg, high and wide,
Unlooked the barriers
Ere the burg-garth we rode to —
*****
*****
Atli woke me
When meseemed I was
Full evil of heart
For my kin dead slain.
“In such wise did the Norns
Wake me or now.” —
Fain was he to know
Of this ill foreshowing —
“That methought, O Gudrun,
Giuki’s daughter,
That thou setst in my heart
A sword wrought for guile.”
“For fires tokening I deem it
That dreaming of iron,
But for pride and for lust
The wrath of fair women
Against some bale
Belike, I shall burn thee
For thy solace and healing
Though hateful thou art.”
“In the fair garth methought
Had saplings fallen
E’en such as I would
Should have waxen ever;
Uprooted were these,
And reddened with blood,
And borne to the bench,
And folk bade me eat of them.
“Methought from my hand then
Went hawks a-flying
Lacking their meat
To the land of all ill;
Methought that their hearts
Mingled with honey,
Swollen with blood
I ate amid sorrow.
“Lo, next two whelps
From my hands I loosened,
Joyless were both,
And both a-howling;
And now their flesh
Became naught but corpses,
Whereof must I eat
But sore against my will.”
“O’er the prey of the fishers
Will folk give doom;
From the bright white fish
The heads will they take;
Within a few nights,
Fey as they are,
A little ere day
Of that draught will they eat.”
“Ne’er since lay I down,
Ne’er since would I sleep,
Hard of heart, in my bed:—
That deed have I to do. 62
59 The original has “a vid lesa”. “Leasing” is the word still used for gleaning in many country sides in England.
60 Son was the vessel into which was poured the blood of Quasir, the God of Poetry.
61 This means soot.
62 The whole of this latter part is fragmentary and obscure; there seems wanting to two of the dreams some trivial interpretation by Gudrun, like those given by Hogni to Kostbera in the Saga, of which nature, of course, the interpretation contained in the last stanza but one is, as we have rendered it: another rendering, from the different reading of the earlier edition of “Edda” (Copenhagen, 1818) would make this refer much more directly to the slaying of her sons by Gudrun.
THE SONG OF ATLI.
Gudrun, Giuki’s daughter, avenger her brethren, as is told far and wide; first she slew the sons of Atli, and then Atli himself; and she burned the hall thereafter, and all the household with it: and about these matters is this song made:—
In days long gone
Sent Atli to Gunnar
A crafty one riding,
Knefrud men called him;
To Giuki’s garth came he,
To the hall of Gunnar,
To the benches gay-dight,
And the gladsome drinking.
There drank the great folk
‘Mid the guileful one’s silence,
Drank wine in their fair hall:
The Huns’ wrath they feared
When Knefrud cried
In his cold voice,
As he sat on the high seat,
That man of the Southland:
“Atli has sent me
Riding swift on his errands
On the bit-griping steed
Through dark woodways unbeaten,
To bid thee, King Gunnar,
Come to his fair bench
With helm well-adorned,
To the house of King Atli.
“Shield shall ye have there
And spears ashen-shafted,
Helms ruddy with gold,
And hosts of the Huns;
Saddle-gear silver gilt,
Shirts red as blood,
The hedge of the warwife,
And horses bit-griping.
“And he saith he will give you
Gnitaheath widespread,
And whistling spears
And prows well-gilded,
Might wealth
With the stead of Danpi,
And that noble wood
Men name the Murkwood.”
Then Gunnar turned head
And spake unto Hogni:
“What rede from thee, high one,
Since such things we hear?
No gold know I
On Gnitaheath,
That we for our parts
Have not portion as great.
“Seven halls we have
Fulfilled of swords,
And hilts of gold
Each sword there has;
My horse is the best,
My blade is the keenest;
Fair my bow o’er the bench is,
Gleams my byrny with gold;
Brightest helm, brightest shield,
From Kiar’s dwelling ere brought —
Better all things I have
Than all things of the Huns.”
HOGNI SAID:
“What mind has our sister
That a ring she hath sent us
In weed of wolves clad?
Bids she not to be wary?
For a wolf’s hair I found
The fair ring wreathed about;
Wolf beset shall the way be
If we wend on this errand.”
No sons whetted Gunnar,
Nor none of his kin,
Nor learned men nor wise men,
Nor such as were mighty.
Then spake Gunnar
E’en as a king should speak,
Glorious in mead-hall
From great heart and high:
“Rise up now, Fiornir,
Forth down the benches
Let the gold-cups of great ones
Pass in hands of my good-men!
Well shall we drink wine,
Draughts dear to our hearts,
Though the last of all feasts
In our fair house this be!
“For the wolves shall rule
O’er the wealth of the Niblungs,
With the pine-woods’ wardens
In Gunnar perish:
And the black-felled bears
With fierce teeth shall bite
For the glee of the dog kind,
If again comes not Gunnar.”
Then good men never shamed,
Greeting aloud,
Led the great king of men
From the garth of his home;
And cried the fair son
Of Hogni the king:
“Fare happy, O Lords,
Whereso your hearts lead you!”
Then the bold knights
Let their bit-griping steeds
Wend swift o’er the fells,
Tread the murk-wood unknown,
All the Hunwood was shaking
As the hardy ones fared there;
O’er the green meads they urged
Their steeds shy of the goad.
Then Atli’s land saw they;
Great towers and strong,
And the bold men of Bikki,
Aloft on the burg:
The Southland folks’ hall
Set with benches about,
Dight with bucklers well bounden,
And bright white shining shields.
There drank Atli,
The awful Hun king,
Wine in his fair hall;
Without were the warders,
Gunnar’s folk to have heed of,
Lest they had fared thither
With the whistling spear
War to wake ‘gainst the king.
But first came their sister
As they came to the hall,
Both her brethren she met,
With beer little gladdened:
“Bewrayed art thou, Gunnar!
What dost thou great king
To deal war to the Huns?
Go thou swift from the hall!
Better, brother, hadst thou
Fared here in thy byrny
Than with helm gaily dight
Looked on Atli’s great house:
Them hadst sat then in saddle
Through days bright with the sun
Fight to awaken
And fair fields to redden:
“O’er the folk fate makes pale
Should the Norn’s tears have fallen,
The shield mays of the Huns
Should have known of all sorrow;
And King Atli himself
To worm-close should be brought;
But now is the worm-close
Kept but for thee.”
Then spake Gunnar
Great ‘mid the people:
“Over-late sister
The Niblungs to summon;
A long way to seek
The helping of warriors,
The high lord unshamed,
From the hills of the Rhine!”
*****
*****
Seven Hogni beat down
With his sword sharp-grinded,
And the eighth man he thrust
Amidst of the fire.
Ever so shall famed warrior
Fight with his foemen,
As Hogni fought
For the hand of Gunnar.
But on Gunnar they fell,
And set him in fetters,
And bound hard and fast
That friend of Burgundians;
Then the warrior they asked
If he would buy life,
But life with gold
That king of the Goths.
Nobly spake Gunnar,
Great lord of the Niblungs;
“Hogni’s bleeding heart first
Shall lie in mine hand,
Cut from the breast
Of the bold-riding lord,
With bitter-sharp knife
From the son of the king.”
With guile the great one
Would they beguile,
On the wailing thrall
Laid they hand unwares,
And cut the heart
From out of Hjalli,
Laid it bleeding on trencher
And bare it to Gunnar.
“Here have I the heart
Of Hjalli the trembler,
Little like the heart
Of Hogni the hardy:
As much as it trembleth
Laid on the trencher
By the half more it trembled
In the breast of him hidden.”
Then laughed Hogni
When they cut the heart from him,
From the crest-smith yet quick,
Little thought he to quail.
The hard acorn of thought
From the high king they took,
Laid it bleeding on trencher
And bare it Gunnar.
“Here have I the heart
Of Hogni the hardy,
Little like to the heart
Of Hjalli the trembler.
Howso little it quaketh
Laid here on the dish,
Yet far less it quaked
In the breast of him laid.
“So far mayst thou bide
From men’s eyen, O Atli,
As from that treasure
Thou shalt abide!
“Behold in my heart
Is hidden for ever
That hoard of the Niblungs,
Now Hogni is dead.
Doubt threw me two ways
While the twain of us lived,
But all that is gone
Now I live on alone.
“The great Rhine shall rule
O’er the hate-raising treasure,
That gold of the Niblungs,
The seed of the gods:
In the weltering water
Shall that wealth lie a-gleaming,
Or it shine on the hands
Of the children of Huns!”
Then cried Atli,
King of the Hun-folk,
“Drive forth your wains now
The slave is fast bounden.”
And straightly thence
The bit-shaking steeds
Drew the hoard-warden,
The war-god to his death.
Atli the great king,
Rode upon Glaum,
With shields set round about,
And sharp thorns of battle:
Gudrun, bound by wedlock
To these, victory made gods of,
Held back her tears
As the hall she ran into.
“Let it fare with thee, Atli,
E’en after thine oaths sworn
To Gunnar fell often;
Yea, oaths sworn of old time,
By the sun sloping southward,
By the high burg of Sigry,
By the fair bed of rest,
By the red ring of Ull!”
Now a host of men
Cast the high king alive
Into a close
Crept o’er within
With most foul worms,
Fulfilled of all venom,
Ready grave to dig
In his doughty heart.
Wrathful-hearted he smote
The harp with his hand,
Gunnar laid there alone;
And loud rang the strings. —
In such wise ever
Should hardy ring-scatterer
Keep gold from all folk
In the garth of his foeman.
Then Atli would wend
About his wide land,
On his steed brazen shod,
Back from the murder.
Din there was in the garth,
All thronged with the horses;
High the weapon-song rose
From men come from the heath.
Out then went Gudrun,
‘Gainst Atli returning,
With a cup gilded over,
To greet the land’s ruler;
“Come, then, and take it,
King glad in thine hall,
From Gudrun’s hands,
For the hell-farers groan not!”
Clashed the beakers of Atli,
Wine-laden on bench,
As in hall there a-gathered,
The Huns fell a-talking,
And the long-bearded eager ones
Entered therein,
From a murk den new-come,
From the murder of Gunnar.
Then hastened the sweet-faced
Delight of the shield-folk,
Bright in the fair hall,
Wine to bear to them:
The dreadful woman
Gave dainties withal
To the lords pale with fate,
Laid strange word upon Atli:
“The hearts of thy sons
Hast thou eaten, sword-dealer,
All bloody with death
And drenched with honey:
In most heavy mood
Brood o’er venison of men!
Drink rich draughts therewith,
Down the high benches send it!
“Never callest thou now
From henceforth to thy knee
Fair Erp or fair Eiril,
Bright-faced with the drink;
Never seest thou them now
Amidmost the seat,
Scattering the gold,
Or shafting of spears;
Manes trimming duly,
Or driving steeds forth!”
Din arose from the benches,
Dread song of men was there,
Noise ‘mid the fair hangings,
As all Hun’s children wept;
All saving Gudrun,
Who never gat greeting,
For her brethren bear-hardy
For her sweet sons and bright,
The young ones, the simple
Once gotten with Atli.
*****
*****
The seed of gold
Sowed the swan-bright woman,
Rings of red gold
She gave to the house-carls;
Fate let she wax,
Let the bright gold flow forth,
In naught spared that woman
The store-houses’ wealth.
Atli unaware
Was a-weary with drink;
No weapon had he,
No heeding of Gudrun —
Ah, the pity would be better,
When in soft wise they twain
Would full often embrace
Before the great lords!
To the bed with sword-point
Blood gave she to drink
With a hand fain of death,
And she let the dogs loose:
Then in from the hall-door —
— Up waked the house-carls —
Hot brands she cast,
Gat revenge for her brethren.
To the flame gave she all
Who therein might be found;
Fell adown the old timbers,
Reeked all treasure-houses;
There the shield-mays were burnt,
Their lives’ span brought to naught;
In the fierce fire sank down
All the stead of the Budlungs.
Wide told of is this —
Ne’er sithence in the world,
Thus fared bride clad in byrny
For her brothers’ avenging;
For behold, this fair woman
To three kings of the people,
Hath brought very death
Or ever she died!
THE WHETTING OF GUDRUN.
Gudrun went down unto the sea whenas she had slain Atli, and she cast herself therein, for she was fain to end her life: but nowise might she drown. She drave over the firths to the land of King Jonakr, and he wedded her, and their sons were Sorli, and Erp, and Hamdir, and there was Swanhild, Sigurd’s daughter, nourished: and she was given to Jormunrek the Mighty. Now Bikki was a man of his, and gave such counsel to Randver, the king’s son, as that he should take her; and with that counsel were the young folk well content.
Then Bikki told the king, and the king let hang Randver, but bade Swanhild be trodden under horses’ feet. But when Gudrun heard thereof, she spake to her sons —
Words of strife heard I,
Huger than any,
Woeful words spoken,
Sprung from all sorrow,
When Gudrun fierce-hearted
With the grimmest of words
Whetter her sons
Unto the slaying.
“Why are ye sitting here?
Why sleep ye life away?
Why doth it grieve you nought?
Glad words to speak,
Now when your sister —
Young of years was she —
Has Jormunrek trodden
With the treading of horses? —
“Black horses and white
In the highway of warriors;
Grey horses that know
The roads of the Goths. —
“Little like are ye grown
To that Gunnar of old days!
Nought are your hearts
As the heart of Hogni!
Well would ye seek
Vengeance to win
If your mood were in aught
As the mood of my brethren,
Or the hardy hearts
Of the Kings of the Huns!”
Then spake Hamdir,
The high-hearted —
“Little didst thou
Praise Hogni’s doings,
When Sigurd woke
From out of sleep,
And the blue-white bed-gear
Upon thy bed
Grew red with man’s blood —
With the blood of thy mate!
“Too baleful vengeance
Wroughtest thou for thy brethren
Most sore and evil
When thy sons thou slewedst,
Else all we together
On Jormunrek
Had wrought sore vengeance
For that our sister.
“Come, bring forth quickly
The Hun kings’ bright gear,
Since thou has urged us
Unto the sword-Thing!”
Laughing went Gudrun
To the bower of good gear,
Kings’ crested helms
From chests she drew,
And wide-wrought byrnies
Bore to her sons:
Then on their horses
Load laid the heroes.
Then spake Hamdir,
The high-hearted —
“Never cometh again
His mother to see
The spear-god laid low
In the land of the Goths.
That one arvel mayst thou
For all of us drink,
For sister Swanhild,
And us thy sons.”
Greeted Gudrun
Giuki’s daughter;
Sorrowing she went
In the forecourt to sit,
That she might tell,
With cheeks tear-furrowed,
Her weary wail
In many a wise.
“Three fires I knew,
Three hearths I knew,
To three husbands’ houses
Have I been carried;
And better than all
Had been Sigurd alone,
He whom my brethren
Brought to his bane.
“Such sore grief as that
Methought never should be,
Yet more indeed
Was left for my torment
Then, when the great ones
Gave me to Atli.
“My fair bright boys
I bade unto speech,
Nor yet might I win
Weregild for my bale,
Ere I had hewn off
Those Niblungs’ heads.
“To the sea-strand I went
With the Norns sorely wroth,
For I would thrust from me
The storm of their torment;
But the high billows
Would not drown, but bore me
Forth, till I stepped a-land
Longer to live.
“Then I went a-bed —
— Ah, better in the old days,
This was the third time! —
To a king of the people;
Offspring I brought forth,
Props of a fair house,
Props of a fair house,
Jonakr’s fair sons.
“But around Swanhild
Bond-maidens sat,
Her, that of all mine
Most to my heart was;
Such was my Swanhild,
In my hall’s midmost,
As is the sunbeam
Fair to beheld.
“In gold I arrayed her,
And goodly raiment,
Or ever I gave her
To the folk of the Goths.
That was the hardest
Of my heavy woes,
When the bright hair, —
O the bright hair of Swanhild! —
In the mire was trodden
By the treading of horses.
“This was the sorest,
When my love, my Sigurd,
Reft of glory
In his bed gat ending:
But this the grimmest
When glittering worms
Tore their way
Through the heart of Gunnar.
“But this the keenest
When they cut to the quick
Of the hardy heart
Of the unfeared Hogni.
Of much of bale I mind me,
Of many griefs I mind me;
Why should I sit abiding
Yet more bale and more?
“Thy coal-black horse,
O Sigurd, bridle,
The swift on the highway!
O let him speed hither!
Here sitteth no longer
Son or daughter,
More good gifts
To give to Gudrun!
“Mindst thou not, Sigurd,
Of the speech betwixt us,
When on one bed
We both sat together,
O my great king —
That thou wouldst come to me
E’en from the hall of Hell,
I to thee from the fair earth?
“Pile high, O earls
The oaken pile,
Let it be the highest
That ever queen had!
Let the fire burn swift,
My breast with woe laden,
And thaw all my heart,
Hard, heavy with sorrow!”
Now may all earls
Be bettered in mind,
May the grief of all maidens
Ever be minished,
For this tale of sorrow
So told to its ending.
THE LAY OF HAMDIR
Great deeds of bale
In the garth began,
At the sad dawning
The tide of Elves’ sorrow
When day is a-waxing
And man’s grief awaketh,
And the sorrow of each one
The early day quickeneth.
Not now, not now,
Nor yesterday,
But long ago
Has that day worn by,
That ancientest time,
The first time to tell of,
Then, whenas Gudrun,
Born of Giuki,
Whetter her sons
To Swanhild’s avenging.
“Your sister’s name
Was naught but Swanhild,
Whom Jormunrek
With horses has trodden! —
White horses and black
On the war-beaten way,
Grey horses that go
On the roads of the Goths.
“All alone am I now
As in holt is the aspen;
As the fir-tree of boughs,
So of kin am I bare;
As bare of things longed for
As the willow of leaves
When the bough-breaking wind
The warm day endeth.
“Few, sad, are ye left
O kings of my folk!
Yet alone living
Last shreds of my kin!
“Ah, naught are ye grown
As that Gunnar of old days;
Naught are your hearts
As the heart of Hogni!
Well would ye seek
Vengeance to win
If your hearts were in aught
As the hearts of my brethren!”
Then spake Hamdir
The high-hearted:
“Nought hadst thou to praise
The doings of Hogni,
When they woke up Sigurd
From out of slumber,
And in bed thou sat’st up
‘Mid the banes-men’s laughter.
“Then when thy bed=gear,
Blue-white, well woven
By art of craftsmen
All swam with thy king’s blood;
The Sigurd died,
O’er his dead corpse thou sattest,
Not heeding aught gladsome,
Since Gunnar so willed it.
“Great grief for Atli
Gatst thou by Erp’s murder,
And the end of thine Eitil,
But worse grief for thyself.
Good to use sword
For the slaying of others
In such wise that its edge
Shall not turn on ourselves!”
Then well spake Sorli
From a heart full of wisdom:
“No words will I
Make with my mother,
Though both ye twain
Need words belike —
What askest thou, Gudrun,
To let thee go greeting?
“Weep for thy brethren,
Weep for thy sweet sons,
And thy nighest kinsfolk
Laid by the fight-side!
Yea, and thou Gudrun,
May’st greet for us twain
Sitting fey on our steeds
Doomed in far lands to die.”
From the garth forth they went
With hearts full of fury,
Sorli and Hamdir,
The sons of Gudrun,
And they met on the way
The wise in all wiles:
“And thou little Erp,
What helping from thee?”
He of alien womb
Spake out in such wise:
“Good help for my kin,
Such as foot gives to foot,
Or flesh-covered hand
Gives unto hand!”
“What helping for foot
That help that foot giveth,
Or for flesh-covered hand
The helping of hand?”
Then spake Erp
Yet once again
Mock spake the prince
As he sat on his steed:
“Fool’s deed to show
The way to a dastard!”
“Bold beyond measure,”
Quoth they, “is the base-born!”
Out from the sheath
Drew they the sheath-steel,
And the glaives’ edges played
For the pleasure of hell;
By the third part they minished
The might that they had,
Their young kin they let lie
A-cold on the earth.
Then their fur-cloaks they shook
And bound fast their swords,
In webs goodly woven
Those great ones were clad;
Young they went o’er the fells
Where the dew was new-fallen
Swift, on steeds of the Huns,
Heavy vengeance to wreak.
Forth stretched the ways,
And an ill way they found,
Yea, their sister’s son 63
Hanging slain upon tree —
Wolf-trees by the wind made cold
At the town’s westward
Loud with cranes’ clatter —
Ill abiding there long!
Din in the king’s hall
Of men merry with drink,
And none might hearken
The horses’ tramping
Or ever the warders
Their great horn winded.
Then men went forth
To Jormunrek
To tell of the heeding
Of men under helm:
“Give ye good counsel!
Great ones are come hither,
For the wrong of men mighty
Was the may to death trodden.”
“Loud Jormunrek laughed,
And laid hand to his beard,
Nor bade bring his byrny,
But with the wine fighting,
Shook his red locks,
On his white shield sat staring,
And in his hand
Swung the gold cup on high.
“Sweet sight for me
Those twain to set eyes on,
Sorli and Hamdir,
Here in my hall!
Then with bowstrings
Would I bind them,
And hang the good Giukings
Aloft on the gallows!”
*****
*****
Then spake Hrothglod
From off the high steps,
Spake the slim-fingered
Unto her son, —
— For a threat was cast forth
Of what ne’er should fall —
“Shall two men alone
Two hundred Gothfolk
Bind or bear down
In the midst of their burg?”
*****
*****
Strife and din in the hall,
Cups smitten asunder
Men lay low in blood
From the breasts of Goths flowing.
Then spake Hamdir,
The high-hearted:
“Thou cravedst, O king,
From the coming of us,
The sons of one mother,
Amidmost thine hall —
Look on these hands of thine,
Look on these feet of thine,
Cast by us, Jormunrek,
On to the flame!”
Then cried aloud
The high Gods’ kinsman 64
Bold under byrny, —
Roared he as bears roar;
“Stones to the stout ones
That the spears bite not,
Nor the edges of steel,
These sons of Jonakr!”
*****
*****
QUOTH SORLI:
“Bale, brother, wroughtst thou
By that bag’s 65 opening,
Oft from that bag
Rede of bale cometh!
Heart hast thou, Hamdir,
If thou hadst heart’s wisdom
Great lack in a man
Who lacks wisdom and lore!”
HAMDIR SAID:
“Yes, off were the head
If Erp were alive yet,
Our brother the bold
Whom we slew by the way;
The far-famed through the world —
Ah, the fares drave me on,
And the man war made holy,
There must I slay!”
SORLI SAID:
“Unmeet we should do
As the doings of wolves are,
Raising wrong each ‘gainst other
As the dogs of the Norns,
The greedy ones nourished
In waste steads of the world.
In strong wise have we fought,
On Goths’ corpses we stand,
Beat down by our edges,
E’en as ernes on the bough.
Great fame our might winneth,
Die we now, or tomorrow, —
No man lives till eve
Whom the fates doom at morning.”
At the hall’s gable-end
Fell Sorli to earth,
But Hamdir lay low
At the back of the houses.
Now this is called the Ancient Lay of Hamdir.
63 Randver, the son of their sister’s husband.
64 Odin, namely.
65 “Bag”, his mouth.
THE LAMENT OF ODDRUN.
There was a king hight Heidrik, and his daughter was called Borgny, and the name of her lover was Vilmund. Now she might nowise be made lighter of a child she travailed with, before Oddrun, Atil’s sister, came to her, — she who had been the love of Gunnar, Giuki’s son. But of their speech together has this been sung:
I have hear tell
In ancient tales
How a may there came
To Morna-land,
Because no man
On mould abiding
For Heidrik’s daughter
Might win healing.
All that heard Oddrun,
Atil’s sister,
How that the damsel
Had heavy sickness,
So she led from stall
Her bridled steed,
And on the swart one
Laid the saddle.
She made her horse wend
O’er smooth ways of earth,
Until to a high-built
Hall she came;
Then the saddle she had
From the hungry horse,
And her ways wended
In along the wide hall,
And this word first
Spake forth therewith:
“What is most famed,
Afield in Hunland,
Or what may be
Blithest in Hunland?”
QUOTH THE HANDMAID:
“Here lieth Borgny,
Borne down by trouble,
Thy sweet friend, O Oddrun,
See to her helping!”
ODDRUN SAID:
“Who of the lords
Hath laid this grief on her,
Why is the anguish
Of Borgny so weary?”
THE HANDMAID SAID:
“He is hight Vilmund,
Friend of hawk-bearers,
He wrapped the damsel
In the warm bed-gear
Five winters long
Without her father’s wotting.”
No more than this
They spake methinks;
Kind sat she down
By the damsel’s knee;
Mightily sand Oddrun,
Sharp piercing songs
By Borgny’s side:
Till a maid and a boy
Might tread on the world’s ways,
Blithe babes and sweet
Of Hogni’s bane:
Then the damsel forewearied
The word took up,
The first word of all
That had won from her:
“So may help thee
All helpful things,
Fey and Freyia,
And all the fair Gods,
As thou hast thrust
This torment from me!”
ODDRUN SAID:
“Yet no heart had I
For thy helping,
Since never wert thou
Worthy of helping,
But my word I held to,
That of old was spoken
When the high lords
Dealt out the heritage,
That every soul
I would ever help.”
BORGNY SAID:
“Right mad art thou, Oddrun,
And reft of thy wits,
Whereas thou speakest
Hard words to me
Thy fellow ever
Upon the earth
As of brothers twain,
We had been born.”
ODDRUN SAID:
“Well I mind me yet,
What thou saidst that evening,
Whenas I bore forth
Fair drink for Gunnar;
Such a thing, saidst thou,
Should fall out never,
For any may
Save for me alone.”
Mind had the damsel
Of the weary day
Whenas the high lords
Dealt out the heritage,
And she sat her down,
The sorrowful woman,
To tell of the bale,
And the heavy trouble.
“Nourished was I
In the hall of kings —
Most folk were glad —
‘Mid the council of great ones:
In fair life lived I,
And the wealth of my father
For five winters only,
While yet he had life.
“Such were the last words
That ever he spake,
The king forewearied,
Ere his ways he went;
For be bade folk give me
The gold red-gleaming,
And give me in Southlands
To the son of Grimhild.
“But Brynhild he bade
To the helm to betake her,
And said that Death-chooser
She should become;
And that no better
Might ever be born
Into the world,
If fate would not spoil it.
“Brynhild in bower
Sewed at her broidery,
Folk she had
And fair lands about her;
Earth lay a-sleeping,
Slept the heavens aloft
When Fafnir’s-bane
The burg first saw.
“Then was war waged
With the Welsh-wrought sword
And the burg all broken
That Brynhild owned;
Nor wore long space,
E’en as well might be,
Ere all those wiles
Full well she knew.
“Hard and dreadful
Was the vengeance she drew down,
So that all we
Have woe enow.
Through all lands of the world
Shall that story fare forth
How she did her to death
For the death of Sigurd.
“But therewithal Gunnar
The gold-scatterer
Did I fall to loving
And should have loved him.
Rings of red gold
Would they give to Atli,
Would give to my brother
Things goodly and great.
“Yea, fifteen steads
Would they give for me,
And the load of Grani
To have as a gift;
But then spake Atli,
That such was his will,
Never gift to take
From the sons of Giuki.
“But we in nowise
Might love withstand,
And mine head must I lay
On my love, the ring-breaker;
And many there were
Among my kin,
Who said that they
Had seen us together.
“Then Atli said
That I surely never
Would fall to crime
Or shameful folly:
But now let no one
For any other,
That shame deny
Where love has dealing.
“For Atli sent
His serving-folk
Wide through the murkwood
Proof to win of me,
And thither they came
Where they ne’er should have come,
Where one bed we twain
Had dight betwixt us.
“To those men had we given
Rings of red gold,
Naught to tell
Thereof to Atli,
But straight they hastened
Home to the house,
And all the tale
To Atli told.
‘Whereas from Gudrun
Well they hid it,
Though better by half
Had she have known it.
*****
*****
“Din was there to hear
Of the hoofs gold-shod,
When into the garth
Rode the sons of Giuki.
“There from Hogni
The heart they cut,
But into the worm-close
Cast the other.
There the king, the wise-hearted,
Swept his harp-strings,
For the might king
Had ever mind
That I to his helping
Soon should come.
“But now was I gone
Yet once again
Unto Geirmund,
Good feast to make;
Yet had I hearing,
E’en out from Hlesey,
How of sore trouble
The harp-strings sang.
“So I bade the bondmaids
Be ready swiftly,
For I listed to save
The life of the king,
And we let our ship
Swim over the sound,
Till Atli’s dwelling
We saw all clearly.
Then came the wretch 66
Crawling out,
E’en Atli’s mother,
All sorrow upon her!
A grave gat her sting
In the heart of Gunnar,
So that no helping
Was left for my hero.
“O gold-clad woman,
Full oft I wonder
How I my life
Still hold thereafter,
For methought I loved
That light in battle,
The swift with the sword,
As my very self.
“Thou hast sat and hearkened
As I have told thee
Of many an ill-fate,
Mine and theirs —
Each man liveth
E’en as he may live —
Now hath gone forth
The greeting of Oddrun.”
The End