The Collected Works of William Morris :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Collected Works of William Morris

With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris

Morris, William (1834-1896)

VOLUME I THE DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE AND OTHER POEMS

II.

VOLUME II THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON

III, IV, V, VI.

VOLUME III, IV, V, VI THE EARTHLY PARADISE

VII.

VOLUME VII THE STORY OF GRETTIR THE STRONG. THE STORY OF THE VOLSUNGS AND NIBLUNGS

INTRODUCTION

GRETTIS SAGA: THE STORY OF GRETTIR THE STRONG:

IX.

VOLUME IX LOVE IS ENOUGH. POEMS BY THE WAY

VOLUME X THREE NORTHERN LOVE STORIES. THE TALE OF BEOWULF

XII.

VOLUME XII THE STORY OF SIGURD THE VOLSUNG AND THE FALL OF THE NIBLUNGS

XIV.

VOLUME XIV THE HOUSE OF THE WOLFINGS. THE STORY OF THE GLITTERING PLAIN

XV.

VOLUME XV THE ROOTS OF THE MOUNTAINS

XVI.

VOLUME XVI NEWS FROM NOWHERE. A DREAM OF JOHN BALL. A KING'S LESSON

XVII.

VOLUME XVII THE WOOD BEYOND THE WORLD. CHILD CHRISTOPHER. OLD FRENCH ROMANCES

XXI.

VOLUME XXI THE SUNDERING FLOOD. UNFINISHED ROMANCES

XXIV.

VOLUME XXIV SCENES FROM THE FALL OF TROY AND OTHER POEMS AND FRAGMENTS

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VII. VOLUME VII THE STORY OF GRETTIR THE STRONG. THE STORY OF THE VOLSUNGS AND NIBLUNGS

INTRODUCTION

[Fragments of verse extracted from the Introduction and not printed elsewhere.]

[Sonnet (2).]

[Lines from William Morris' Journals of his travels in Iceland.]

Grettir, didst thou live utterly for nought?
Among the many millions of the earth
Few knew thy name nor where thou hadst thy birth.
And yet, that passing glow of fame unsought,
That eager life in ill luck's meshes caught
That struggles yet to gain a little mirth
Amidst of pain—with less remembered worth
Great things to little things have great men brought.

At least thy life moved men so, that e'en I,
Thy mother's wail in the lone eve and drear,
Thy brother's laugh at death for thee, can hear—
Hear now nor wonder at her agony
Nor wonder that he found it good to die—
Speak, Grettir, through the dark: I am anear.

xxj

BALDUR'S DREAM

[Translation from the Edda songs upon which the Grethir and Völsung a Saga are based.]

1

The Gods on a time
At the Thing were all gathered
And the Goddesses there
Were gathered together,
And this thing the great Gods
Had to talk over there,
Why baleful dreams
Had come to Baldur.

2

Up rose Odin,
Lord of the ages,
And he on Sleipnir
Laid the saddle,
And thence he rode down
To the deeps of Niflhel,
Till he met the hound
That came out of Hel.

3

All bloody was he
On his breast's forefront,
Long while he bayed
On the Father of wisdom,
But forward rode Odin
Mid the din of the field-way
Till he came to the high-built
House of Hell.

4

Then rode Odin
To the door looking eastward
Where he wotted the mound was
Wherein lay the Vala.

xxij

Then to the witch-wife
Wise words he sang,
Witch-work for dead folk,
Till unwilling she rose
With dead words in her mouth:

5

“What man is that
A man that I know not
Who has brought unto me
The burden his mind bears?
I was snowed on with snow
And swept over with rain
And dripped down on with dew,
Dead, dead for a long while.”

6

“Way-wearer they call me,
The son of the death-wise;
Tell me tidings of Hel
And of earth will I tell thee.
For whom are these benches
Strewn with red rings
And the goodly bed
With gold done over?”

7

“For Baldur standeth
The mead brewed ready
And this shimmering drink
That the shield lieth over.
From the sons of the Gods
Is all hope gone away.
To speech was I driven
And now will hold silence.”

8

“Hold not silence, O witch-wife
Thee yet will I question
Until all wisdom
Well I wot.

xxiij

Who shall be
The bane of Baldur
And snatch the life
From Odin's son?”

9

“High beareth Hod
The staff made famous,
He shall be
The bane of Baldur
And snatch the life
From Odin's son.”

10

“Hold not silence, O witch-wife,
Thee yet will I question,
Until all wisdom
Well I wot.
Who upon Hod
Will wreak heavy vengeance
Or bring bale
On Baldur's bane?”

11

“Rind beareth Vali
In the Western halls;
One-night-old shall slay folk;
Nor washeth hand
Nor combeth head
Ere bale he bringeth
On Baldur's foeman.”

12

“Hold not silence, O witch-wife,
Thee yet will I question
Until all wisdom
Well I wot.

xxiv

Who are the mays
Who shall wait heavy-hearted
And on their heads
Cast heaven's skirts?”

13

“Way-wearer art thou not
E'en as I wotten
But rather Odin
Lord of the ages.”
“Thou art no witch-wife
No wise woman,
But of three giants
Art thou the mother.”

14

“Ride thou home, Odin,
And be thou all joyous
That thou mayst behold
Menfolk once more,
Till the last day when Loki
Slips loose from his bounds
And that great day
Of the Gods' death is come.”

THE LAY OF THRYM

[Trarslation from the Edda songs on which the Grethir and Völsunga Saga are based.]

1

Wrath Thor was waxen
Then when he woke up
And waking missed
His mighty hammer.
Bristled his beard thereat,
Broad about tossed his hair
As the great Earth-born
Groped round about him.

2

And this word he spake
Of all words the first word:
“Hearken thou, Loki,

xxv

To that when I speak now
For the like none hath heard
In the heaven above
Or the earth—of the God
Whose hammer got stolen.”

3

Forth then they went
To the fair house of Freyia
And this word he spake,
Of all words the first word:
“Lend to me, Freyia,
Thy feather-wrought shape
That that hammer of mine
I might get me again.”

4

“I would give it to thee
Though of gold it were wrought,
Were it of silver
Yet shouldst thou have it.”
Forth then flew Loki,
Whistled the Feather-shape
Until from the garth
Of the Gods he was gotten
And withinwards was come
To the world of the giants.

5

On mound was Thrym sitting,
Mighty lord of the giants,
For his bitches he twisted
The bright gold leashes,
And his mares' manes
Made equal duly.

6

“How fare the Æsir,
How fare the Elf-folk?
Why comest thou hither
To the home of the Giants?”

xxvj

“Ill fare the Æsir,
Ill fare the Elf-folk;
Hast thou not hidden
The Hot-rider's hammer?”

7

“Yea, I have hidden
The Hot-rider's hammer;
Eight miles it lieth
Under the earth.
No man there is
Who ever may fetch it
But if he shall bring me
Freyia for bride.”

8

Forth then flew Loki,
Whistled the Feather-shape,
Until from the world
Of the giants he was gotten
And withinwards was come
To the garth of the Gods.

9

“Speedeth thine errand
After thy labour
Up there aloft?
Tell me long tidings;
Oft from the sitting one
Faileth the story,
Oft from the lying one
Lies bubble forth.”

10

“E'en after my labour
So has mine errand been;
Thrym has gotten thine hammer,
High lord of the giants.
No man there is
Who ever may fetch it
But if he shall bring him
Freyia for bride.”

xxvij

11

Forth then they went
Fair Freyia to meet,
And this word he spake,
Of all words the first word:
“Bind on, O Freyia,
The linen of brides;
To the dwelling of giants
We twain shall drive thee.”

12

Wroth then waxed Freyia,
Fiercely she snorted,
The abode of the Æsir
All trembled beneath her,
The gem of the Brisings
Was bursten asunder.
“Me methinks deem ye
Mad with love-longing
That I should fare with you
To the world of the giants.”

13

The Gods on a time
At the Thing were all gathered,
And the Goddesses there
Were gathered together,
And this thing the great Gods
Had to talk over there:
How they might lay hand
On Hot-rider's hammer.

14

Then spake Heimdall,
Whitest of high Gods,
Wise in what should be
As any God was:
“Bind we on Thor then
Linen that brides bear,
Let him have the great gem
Of the Brisings hung on him.

xxviij

15

“Let us hand to him
Tinkle of keys
Let women's weed
Fall wide o'er his knee,
Set on his breast
Broad stones and bright,
Tire his head
Trimly and fair.”

16

Then spake Thor,
God of the Thunder:
“Craven the Æsir
Should call me certes
If the linen of brides
I should let bind upon me.

17

Then spake Loki,
Son of Laufey:
“Hold thy peace, Thor,
Of such words as these;
Doubtless the giants
Asgard shall dwell [in]
But if thou shalt have
Thine hammer to thee.”

18

Bound they on Thor then
Linen that brides bear,
Bound they upon him
The gem of the Brisings,
Hung they unto him
Tinkle of keys,
Let women's weed
Fall wide o'er his knee,
Set on his breast
Broad stones and bright,
Tire his head
Trimly and fair.

xxix

19

Then spake Loki
Wise son of Laufey
“I will go with thee,
Thy waiting woman;
We two shall drive
To the dwelling of giants.”

20

Then were the he-goats
Straight driven homewards,
Swift in the yoke,
Strong to run well.
Hills brake asunder,
Earth burned aflaming
And Odin's son wended
To the world of the giants.

21

Then loud spake Thrym
Lord of the giants:
“Stand up, ye giant folk
Strew ye the benches,
For now wendeth hither
Freyia to wed me
The daughter of Niord
Noatown's dweller.

22

“Here in my garth
Go the kine gold-horned,
Oxen all black
Bring the giants disport,
Many good things
Many gems have,
Freyia alone
Was all I thought lacking.”

23

In the evening betimes
Were they brought thither
And in to the giant folk

xxx

Now was the ale brought;
Sif's husband alone
Ate up an ox there
Eight salmon therewith
And all the sweet things
That the women's due were,
And drank out three mead-tuns.

24

Loud spake Thrym
Lord of the giants:
“Who e'er saw brides
Bite any keener?
Ne'er saw I brides
Broader mouthed bite,
Nor more mead than that
Drunk by a maid.”

25

There sat the wily
Waiting-maid by him
And found out a word
For the giant's word ready:
“Naught at all Freyia
For eight nights hath eaten,
Such longing had she
For the home of the giants.”

26

He stooped 'neath the linen
Sore longing to kiss her,
But backward he leaped
Endlong the hall:
“Why are Freyia's eyes
So fierce unto me?
Methinks from those eyes
Fire flamed forth.”

27

There sat the wily
Waiting-maid by him
And found a word

xxxj

For the giant's word ready:
“Nought at all Freyia
For eight nights hath slept
Such longing had she
For the home of the giants.”

28

In slunk the wretch,
The giant's sister,
And dared to bid
For the bride-fee there:
“Give from thy hands
The gold rings ruddy
If thou wouldst win
Goodwill of me
Goodwill of me,
And my loving kindness.”

29

Then loud spake Thrym,
Lord of the giants:
“Bear in the hammer
The bride to hallow,
Lay ye Miolnir,
On the knees of the maiden,
And hallow us both
To the hands of Varar.”

30

Laughed then Hot-rider's
Heart in the breast of him,
When hardly of heart
His hammer he caught up:
Thrym got he first slain,
Lord of the giants,
Then all the kin
He crushed of the giant folk.

31

Slew he the old crone
The giant's sister,
She who had bidden

xxxij

Give forth the bride-fee;
Smiting her lot was
Instead of silver,
And the hammer's stroke
For store of gold rings.

So came Odin's son
In the end by his hammer.

GRETTIS SAGA: THE STORY OF GRETTIR THE STRONG:

TRANSLATED FROM THE ICELANDIC BY EIRÍKR MAGNÚSSON & WILLIAM MORRIS

[A life scarce worth the living, a poor fame]

A life scarce worth the living, a poor fame
Scarce worth the winning, in a wretched land,
Where fear and pain go upon either hand,
As toward the end men fare without an aim
Unto the dull grey dark from whence they came:
Let them alone, the unshadowed sheer rocks stand
Over the twilight graves of that poor band,
Who count so little in the great world's game!

Nay, with the dead I deal not; this man lives,
And that which carried him through good and ill,
Stern against fate while his voice echoed still
From rock to rock, now he lies silent, strives
With wasting time, and through its long lapse gives
Another friend to me, life's void to fill.

WILLIAM MORRIS

THIS FIRST PART TELLS OF THE FOREFATHERS OF GRETTIR IN NORWAY, AND HOW THEY FLED AWAY BEFORE HARALD FAIRHAIR, AND SETTLED IN ICELAND; AND OF THEIR DEEDS IN ICELAND BEFORE GRETTIR WAS BORN.

CHAPTER III

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

[“What joy since that day can I get]

[Onund.]
“What joy since that day can I get
When shield-fire's thunder last I met;
Ah, too soon clutch the claws of ill;
For that axe-edge shall grieve me still.
In eyes of fighting man and thane,
My strength and manhood are but vain,
This is the thing that makes me grow
A joyless man; is it enow?”

CHAPTER IV

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

[“Yea, seest thou thy wide wounds bleed?]

[Onund.]
“Yea, seest thou thy wide wounds bleed?
What of shrinking didst thou heed
In the one-foot sling of gold?
What scratch here dost thou behold?
And in e'en such wise as this
Many an axe-breaker there is
Strong of tongue and weak of hand:
Tried thou wert, and mightst not stand.”

CHAPTER VIII

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

[“Meet was I in days agone]

[Onund.]
“Meet was I in days agone
For storm, wherein the Sweeping One,
Midst rain of swords, and the darts' breath,
Blew o'er all a gale of death.
Now a maimed, one-footed man
On rollers' steed through waters wan
Out to Iceland must I go;
Ah, the skald is sinking low.”

CHAPTER IX

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

[“Brand-whetter's life awry doth go.]

[Onund.]
“Brand-whetter's life awry doth go.
Fair lands and wide full well I know;
Past house, and field, and fold of man
The swift steed of the rollers ran:
My lands and kin I left behind,
That I this latter day might find,
Coldback for sunny meads to have;
Hard fate a bitter bargain drave.”

CHAPTER XI

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

[“The brave men of days of old]

“The brave men of days of old,
Whereof many a tale is told,
Bathed the whiting of the shield,
In wounds' house on battle-field;
But the honour-missing fool,
Both sides of his slaying tool,
Since faint heart his hand made vain,
With but curdled milk must stain.”

CHAPTER XII

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

[Song of the meeting of the Fore-fathers of Grettir.]

“At Rib-skerries, I hear folk tell,
A hard and dreadful fray befell,
For men unarmed upon that day
With strips of whale-fat made good play.
Fierce steel-gods these in turn did meet
With blubber-slices nowise sweet;
Certes a wretched thing it is
To tell of squabbles such as this.”

HERE BEGINS THE STORY OF THE LIFE OF GRETTIR THE STRONG.

CHAPTER XIV. OF GRETTIR AS A CHILD, AND HIS FROWARD WAYS WITH HIS FATHER.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

[“Surely as winter comes, shall I]

[Grettir.]
“Surely as winter comes, shall I
Twist the goslings' necks awry.
If in like case are the geese,
I have finished each of these.”

[“This jewel-strewer, O ground of gold]

[Grettir.]
“This jewel-strewer, O ground of gold,
(His counsels I deem over bold),
On both these hands that trouble sow,
(Ah bitter pain) will burn me now;
Therefore with wool-comb's nails unshorn
Somewhat ring-strewer's back is torn:
The hook-clawed bird that wrought his wound—
Lo, now I see it on the ground.”

[“Grettir has in such wise played]

[Asmund.]
“Grettir has in such wise played,
That Keingala has he flayed,
Whose trustiness would be my boast
(Proudest women talk the most);
So the cunning lad has wrought,
Thinking thereby to do nought
Of my biddings any more.
In thy mind turn these words o'er.”

CHAPTER XVI. OF THE SLAYING OF SKEGGI.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

[Of the Slaying of Skeggi.]

“A rock-troll her weight did throw
At Skeggi's throat a while ago;
Over the battle-ogress ran
The red blood of the serving-man;
Her deadly iron mouth did gape
Above him, till clean out of shape
She tore his head and let out life:
And certainly I saw their strife.”

CHAPTER XVII. OF GRETTIR'S VOYAGE OUT.

[“Rider of wind-driven steed]

[Grettir.]
“Rider of wind-driven steed,
Little gat I to my need,
When I left my fair birth-stead,
From the snatchers of worm's bed;
But this man's-bane hanging here,
Gift of woman good of cheer,
Proves the old saw said not ill:
Best to bairn is mother still.”

[“Good luck, scurvy starvelings, if I should behold]

[Grettir.]
“Good luck, scurvy starvelings, if I should behold
Each finger ye have doubled up with the cold.”

[“Otherwise would matters be]

[Grettir.]
“Otherwise would matters be,
When this shouting Haflidi
Ate in house at Reydarfell
Curdled milk, and deemed it well;

He who decks the reindeer's side
That 'twixt ness and ness doth glide,
Twice in one day had his fill
Of the feast of dart shower shrill.”

This is about as obscure as the original, which seems to allude to some event not mentioned in the Saga.

[“Grettir, stand up from thy grave]

“Grettir, stand up from thy grave,
In the trough of the grey wave
The keel labours, tell my say
Now unto thy merry may;
From thy hands the linen-clad
Fill of sewing now has had,
Till we make the land will she
Deem that labour fitteth thee.”

Then Grettir stood up and sang:

“Stand we up, for neath us now
Rides the black ship high enow;

This fair wife will like it ill
If my limbs are laid here still;
Certes, the white trothful one
Will not deem the deed well done,
If the work that I should share
Other folk must ever bear.”

CHAPTER XVIII. OF GRETTIR AT HARAMSEY AND HIS DEALINGS WITH KARR THE OLD.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

[“Lessener of the flame of sea]

[Grettir.]

“Lessener of the flame of sea,
My strong hope was true to me,

When I deemed that treasure lay
In the barrow; from to-day
Folk shall know that I was right;
The begetters of the fight
Small joy now shall have therein,
Seeking dragon's-lair to win.”

Thorfinn answered, “Blood will seldom seem blood to thine eyes; no man before thee has had will to break open the barrow; but, because I know that what wealth soever is hid in earth or borne into barrow is wrongly placed, I shall not hold thee blameworthy for thy deed as thou hast brought it all to me; yea, or whence didst thou get the good sword?”

Grettir answered and sang:

“Lessener of waves flashing flame,
To my lucky hand this came
In the barrow where that thing
Through the dark fell clattering;
If that helm-fire I should gain,
Made so fair to be the bane
Of the breakers of the bow,
Ne'er from my hand should it go.”

CHAPTER XIX. OF YULE AT HARAMSEY, AND HOW GRETTIR DEALT WITH THE BEARSERKS.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

[“By the sea's wash have we made]

[Grettir.]
“By the sea's wash have we made
Graves, where twelve spear-groves are laid;
I alone such speedy end,
Unto all these folk did send.
O fair giver forth of gold,
Whereof can great words be told,
'Midst the deeds one man has wrought,
If this deed should come to nought?”

CHAPTER XXI. OF GRETTIR AND BIORN AND THE BEAR.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

[“Oft that war-god came to hall]

[Grettir.]
“Oft that war-god came to hall
Frighted, when no blood did fall,
In the dusk; who ever cried
On the bear last autumn-tide;
No man saw me sitting there
Late at eve before the lair;
Yet the shaggy one to-day
From his den I drew away.”

CHAPTER XXII. OF THE SLAYING OF BIORN.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

[“In hard strife I slew the bear]

[Grettir.]
“In hard strife I slew the bear,
Thereof many a man doth hear;
Then the cloak I oft had worn,
By the beast to rags was torn;

Thou, O braggart ring-bearer,
Wrought that jest upon me there,
Now thou payest for thy jest,
Not in words am I the best.”

CHAPTER XXIV. OF THE SLAYING OF GUNNAR, & GRETTIR'S STRIFE WITH EARL SVEIN.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

[“To our helping came]

[Grettir.]

“To our helping came
The great of name;
Thorfinn was there
Born rule to bear;
When all bolts fell
Into locks, and hell
Cried out for my life
In the Tunsberg strife.

The Dromund fair
Of red seas was there,
The stone of the bane
Of steel-gods vain:
From Bylest's kin
My life to win,
Above all men,
He laboured then.

Then the king's folk
Would strike no stroke
To win my head;
So great grew dread;
For the leopard came
With byrni's flame,
And on thoughts-burg wall
Should that bright fire fall.”

CHAPTER XXVII. THE SUIT FOR THE SLAYING OF THORGILS MAKSON.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

[“Mighty strife the warrior made]

[Thormod.]
“Mighty strife the warrior made
When to earth was Makson laid,
Well the sword-shower wrought he there,
Flesh the ravens got to tear;
Then when Skuf and Biarni fell,
He was there the tale to tell;
Sea-steed's rider took his way
Through the thickest of the fray.”

CHAPTER XXVIII. GRETTIR COMES OUT TO ICELAND AGAIN.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

[“Prithee, Audun, who can tell]

[Grettir.]
“Prithee, Audun, who can tell,
But that now thy throat shall swell;
That from rough hands thou shalt gain
By our strife a certain pain.
E'en such wrong as I have done,
I of yore from Audun won,
When the young, fell-creeping lad
At his hands a choking had.”

CHAPTER XXXI. HOW GRETTIR MET BARDI, THE SON OF GUDMUND, AS HE CAME BACK FROM THE HEATH-SLAYINGS.

[Somgs extracted from the prose narrative.]

[“My life trust I 'gainst three]

[Grettir.]
“My life trust I 'gainst three
Skilled in Mist's mystery;
Whatso in Hilda's weather
Shall bring the swords together;
If over four they are
My wayfaring that bar,
No gale of swords will I
Wake with them willingly.”

CHAPTER XXXVII. OLAF THE SAINT, KING IN NORWAY; THE SLAYING OF THORBIORN TARDY; GRETTIR GOES TO NORWAY.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

[“Day by day full over long]

[Grettir.]
“Day by day full over long,
Arrow-dealer, grows thy tongue;
Such a man there is, that thou
Mayst be paid for all words now;
Many a man, who has been fain,
Wound-worm's tower with hands to gain,
With less deeds his death has bought,
Than thou, Tardy-one, hast wrought.”

101

CHAPTER XL. OF GRETTIR AND SNŒKOLL.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

102

[“There the shield that men doth save]

[Grettir.]
“There the shield that men doth save
Mighty spurn with foot I gave.
Snœkoll's throat it smote aright,
The fierce follower of the fight,
And by mighty dint of it
Were the tofts of tooth-hedge split;
The strong spear-walk's iron rim,
Tore a-down the jaws of him.”

112

CHAPTER XLVII. GRETTIR COMES OUT TO ICELAND AGAIN.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

[“Heavy tidings thick and fast]

[Grettir.]
“Heavy tidings thick and fast
On the singer now are cast;
My father dead, my brother dead,
A price set upon my head;
Yet, O grove of Hedin's maid,
May these things one day be paid;
Yea upon another morn
Others may be more forlorn.”

113

[“One that helm-fire well can wield]

[Grettir.]

“One that helm-fire well can wield
Rode off from my well-fenced field,
Helm-stalk stole away from me
Saddle-fair, the swift to see;
Certes, more great deeds this Frey
Yet shall do in such-like way
As this was done; I deem him then
Most overbold and rash of men.”

Then he took horse and rode after him; Grettir rode on till he came up to the homestead at Kropp; there he met a man called Hall, who said that he was going down to the ship at the Wolds; Grettir sang a stave:

“In broad-peopled lands say thou
That thou sawest even now
Unto Kropp-farm's gate anigh,
Saddle-fair and Elm-stalk high;
That thou sawest stiff on steed
(Get thee gone at greatest speed),
One who loveth game and play
Clad in cape of black to-day.”

[“Sawest thou him who did me harm]

[Svein.]
“Sawest thou him who did me harm
On my horse by yonder farm?
Even such an one was he,
Sluggish yet a thief to see;
From the neighbours presently
Doom of thief shall he abye
And a blue skin shall he wear,
If his back I come anear.”

114

[“Say to guard of deep-sea's flame]

[Grettir.]
“Say to guard of deep-sea's flame
That here worm-land's haunter came;
Well-born goddess of red gold,
Thus let gamesome rhyme be told:
‘Giver forth of Odin's mead,
Of thy black mare have I need;
For to Gilsbank will I ride,
Meed of my rash words to bide.’”

[“What foreteller of spear-shower]

[Svein.]
“What foreteller of spear-shower
E'en within this nigh-passed hour,
Swift through the rough weather rode
Past the gate of this abode?
He, the hound-eyed reckless one,
By all good deeds left alone,
Surely long upon this day
From my hands will flee away.”

115

[“Who rode on my mare away?]

[Svein.]
“Who rode on my mare away?
What is that which thou wilt pay?
Who a greater theft has seen?
What does the cowl-covered mean?”

[“I did ride thy mare to Grim]

[Grettir.]
“I did ride thy mare to Grim
(Thou art feeble weighed with him),
Little will I pay to thee,
Yet good fellows let us be.”

116

CHAPTER XLVIII. THE SLAYING OF THORBIORN OXMAIN.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

118

[“Giant's friend fell dead to earth]

[Grettir.]
“Giant's friend fell dead to earth
On the grass of Wether-firth,
No fierce fighting would avail
Oxmain in the Odin's gale.
So, and in no other wise,
Has been paid a fitting price
For that Atli, who of yore,
Lay dead-slain a-nigh his door.”

126

CHAPTER LII. HOW GRETTIR WAS TAKEN BY THE ICEFIRTH CARLES.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

130

[“Ill luck to me]

[Grettir.]

“Ill luck to me
That I should be
On sea-roof-firth
Borne unto earth;
Ill luck enow
To lie alow,
This head of mine
Griped fast by swine.”

“What were they minded to do to thee,” said Vermund, “when they took thee there?” Quoth Grettir:

“There many men
Bade give me then
E'en Sigar's meed
For lovesome deed;
Till found me there
That willow fair,
Whose leaves are praise,
Her stems good days.”

Vermund asked, “Would they have hanged thee then, if they alone had had to meddle with matters?” Said Grettir:

“Yea, to the snare
That dangled there
My head must I
Soon bring anigh;

131

But Thorbiorg came
The brightest dame,
And from that need
The singer freed.”

Then said Vermund, “Did she bid thee to her?” Grettir answered:

“Sif's lord's good aid,
My saviour, bade
To take my way
With her that day;
So did it fall;
And therewithal
A horse she gave;
Good peace I have.”

132

CHAPTER LIV. GRETTIR MEETS HALLMUND ON THE KEEL.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

134

[“To the Kettle's side]

[Air.]

“To the Kettle's side
Now will I ride,
Where the waters fall
From the great ice-wall;
If thou hast mind
There mayest thou find
With little stone
Fist's land alone.”

Grettir said, “It is of no avail to seek after thine abode if thou tellest of it no clearer than this.”

Then Air spake and sang:

“I would not hide
Where I abide,
If thou art fain
To see me again;
From that lone weald,
Over Burgfirth field,
That ye men name
Balljokul, I came.”

Hall, a “stone:” mund, is “hand,” and by periphrasis “land of fist;” so that Hallmund is meant by this couplet, and that was the real name of “Air,” who is not a mere man, but a friendly spirit of the mountains.

[“Too far on this luckless day]

[Grettir.]
“Too far on this luckless day,
Atli, good at weapon-play,
Brisk Illugi were from me;
Such-like oft I shall not be
As I was, when I must stand
With the reins drawn through my hand
By the unflinching losel Air.
Maids weep when they know I fear.”

139

CHAPTER LVII. HOW THORIR OF GARTH SET ON GRETTIR ON ERNEWATERHEATH.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

141

[Grettir's lay on Hallamind.]

“Wide and high doth Hallmund stride,
In the hollow mountain side.”

And this stave also is therein:

“At Ernewater, one by one,
Stole the swords forth in the sun,
Eager for the road of death
Swept athwart by sharp spears' breath;
Many a dead Wellwharfer's lands
That day gave to other hands.
Hallmund, dweller in the cave,
Grettir's life that day did save.”

143

CHAPTER LIX. GISLI'S MEETING WITH GRETTIR.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

148

[“In fighting ring where steed meets steed]

[Grettir.]
“In fighting ring where steed meets steed,
The sluggish brute of mongrel breed,
Certes will shrink back nothing less
Before the stallion's dauntlessness,
Than Gisli before me to-day;
As, casting shame and clothes away,
And sweating o'er the marsh with fear,
He helped the wind from mouth and rear.”

151

CHAPTER LXI. HOW GRETTIR LEFT FAIR-WOOD-FELL, & OF HIS ABIDING IN THORIR'S-DALE

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

[“O thou warder of horn's wave]

[Grettir.]
“O thou warder of horn's wave,
Not on this side of the grave
Will Steinulf's head be whole again;
Many more there gat their bane;
Little hope of Thorgils now
After that bone-breaking blow:
Eight Gold-scatterers more they say,
Dead along the river lay.”

154

CHAPTER LXII. OF THE DEATH OF HALLMUND, GRETTIR'S FRIEND.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

155

[“Now know I aright]

[Grim.]
“Now know I aright,
That in man's might,
And in man's bliss,
No trust there is;
On the day of bale
Shall all things fail;
Courage is o'er,
Luck mocks no more.”

[“When I drew adown]

[Grim.]

“When I drew adown
The bridle brown
Grettir's hard hold,
Men deemed me bold;
Long while looked then
The brave of men
In his hollow hands,
The harm of lands.

“Then came the day
Of Thorir's play
On Ernelake-heath
When we from death
Our life must gain;

156

Alone we twain
With eighty men
Must needs play then.

“Good craft enow
Did Grettir show
On many a shield
In that same field;
Natheless I hear
That my marks were
The deepest still;
The worst to fill.

“Those who were fain
His back to gain,
Lost head and hand,
Till of the band,
From the Well-wharf-side,
Must there abide
Eighteen behind
That none can find.

“With the giant's kin
Have I oft raised din;
To the rock folk
Have I dealt out stroke;
Ill things could tell
That I smote full well;
The half-trolls know
My baneful blow.

“Small gain in me
Did the elf-folk see,
Or the evil wights
Who ride anights.”

158

CHAPTER LXIII. HOW GRETTIR BEGUILED THORIR OF GARTH WHEN HE WAS NIGH TAKING HIM.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

159

[“Now make I no battle-field]

[Grettir.]

“Now make I no battle-field
With the searching stems of shield.
Rife with danger is my day,
And alone I go my way:
Nor shall I go meet, this tide,
Odin's storm, but rather bide
Whatso fate I next may have;
Scarce, then, shalt thou deem me brave.

“Thence where Thorir's company
Thronging ride, I needs must flee;
If with them I raised the din,
Little thereby should I win;
Brave men's clashing swords I shun,
Woods must hide the hunted one;
For through all things, good and ill,
Unto life shall I hold still.”

[“O wise sun of golden stall]

[Grettir.]
“O wise sun of golden stall,
When thy sire comes back to hall,
Thou mayst tell him without sin
This, though little lies therein,
That thou saw'st me ride hereby,

160

With but two in company,
Past the door of Skeggi's son,
Nigh his hearth, O glittering one.”

165

CHAPTER LXVI. OF THE DWELLER IN THE CAVE UNDER THE FORCE.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

166

[“There into gloomy gulf I passed]

[Grettir.]

“There into gloomy gulf I passed,
O'er which from the rock's throat is cast
The swirling rush of waters wan,
To meet the sword-player feared of man,
By giant's hall the strong stream pressed
Cold hands against the singer's breast;
Huge weight upon him there did hurl
The swallower of the changing whirl.”

And this other one withal:

“The dreadful dweller of the cave
Great strokes and many 'gainst me drave;
Full hard he had to strive for it,
But toiling long he wan no whit;
For from its mighty shaft of tree
The heft-sax smote I speedily;
And dulled the flashing war-flame fair
In the black breast that met me there.”

179

CHAPTER LXXIV. OF GRETTIR'S WRESTLING: AND HOW THORBIORN ANGLE NOW BOUGHT THE MORE PART OF DRANGEY.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

180

[“I, well known to men, have been]

[Grettir.]
“I, well known to men, have been
On this morn both hid and seen;
Double face my fortune wears,
Evil now, now good it bears;
Doubtful play-board have I shown
Unto these men, who have grown
Doubtful of their given word;
Hafr's big noise goes overboard.”

[“Raisers-up of roof of war]

[Grettir.]
“Raisers-up of roof of war
Nose to nose in counsel are;
Wakeners of the shield-rain sit
Wagging beard to talk of it:
Scatterers of the serpent's bed
Round about lay head to head.
For belike they heard my name;
And must balance peace and shame.”

184

CHAPTER LXXVII. GRETTIR AT THE HOMESTEAD OF REEKS.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

185

[“Stay a little, foolish one!]

[Grettir.]
“Stay a little, foolish one!
When the shield-shower is all done,
With the conquered carles and lords,
Men bide not to measure swords:
Many a man had there been glad,
Lesser war-gear to have had,
With a heart more void of fear;
Such I am not, sweet and dear.”

[“Sweet amender of the seam]

[Grettir.]
“Sweet amender of the seam,
Weak and worn thou dost me deem:
O light-handed dear delight,
Certes thou must say aright.
Weak I am, and certainly
Long in white arms must I lie:
Hast thou heart to leave me then,
Fair-limbed gladdener of great men?”

194

CHAPTER LXXXII. GRETTIR SINGS OF HIS GREAT DEEDS.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

195

[“Doubtful played the foredoomed fate]

[Grettir.]

“Doubtful played the foredoomed fate
Round the sword in that debate,
When the bearserks' outlawed crew
In the days of yore I slew.
Screamed the worm of clashing lands
When Hiarandi dropped his hands
Biorn and Gunnar cast away,
Hope of dwelling in the day.

“Home again then travelled I;
The broad-boarded ship must lie,
Under Door-holm, as I went,
Still with weapon-play content,
Through the land; and there the thane
Called me to the iron rain,
Bade me make the spear-storm rise,
Torfi Vebrandson the wise.

“To such plight the Skald was brought,
Wounder of the walls of thought,
Howsoever many men
Stood, all armed, about us then,
That his hand that knew the oar,
Grip of sword might touch no more;
Yet to me the wound who gave
Did he give a horse to have.

196

“Thorbiorn Arnor's son, men said,
Of no great deed was afraid,
Folk spake of him far and wide;
He forbade me to abide
Longer on the lovely earth;
Yet his heart was little worth,
Not more safe alone was I,
Than when armed he drew a-nigh.

“From the sword's edge and the spears,
From my many waylayers,
While might was, and my good day,
Often did I snatch away;
Now a hag, whose life outworn
Wicked craft and ill hath borne,
Meet for death lives long enow,
Grettir's might to overthrow.”

205

CHAPTER LXXXVI. HOW THORBIORN ANGLE BROUGHT GRETTIR'S HEAD TO BIARG.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

206

[“A greedy head I bring with me]

[Angle.]
“A greedy head I bring with me
Up from the borders of the sea;
Now may the needle-pliers weep,
The red-haired outlaw lies asleep;
Gold-bearer, cast adown thine eyes,
And see how on the pavement lies
The peace-destroying head brought low,
That but for salt had gone ere now.”

[“O thou poor wretch, as sheep that flee]

[The good wife.]
“O thou poor wretch, as sheep that flee
To treacherous ice when wolves they see,
So in the waves would ye have drowned
Your shame and fear, had ye but found
That steel-god hale upon the isle:
Now heavy shame, woe worth the while!
Hangs over the north country-side,
Nor I my loathing care to hide.”

213

CHAP. XC. HOW THE LADY SPES REDEEMED THORSTEIN FROM THE DUNGEON.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

214

[“Field of rings, eight men, who raise]

[Thorstein.]
“Field of rings, eight men, who raise
Din of sword in clattering ways,
Strove the good short-sword in vain
From the strong dead hand to gain;
So they ever strained and strove,
Till at last it did behove
The feared quickener of the fight
From the glorious man to smite.”

227

GOOD PEOPLE, HERE THE WORK HATH END:
MAY ALL FOLK TO THE GOOD GOD WEND!

VÖLSUNGA SAGA: THE STORY OF THE VOLSUNGS AND NIBLUNGS, WITH CERTAIN SONGS FROM THE ELDER EDDA.

TRANSLATED FROM THE ICELANDIC BY EIRÍKR MAGNÚSSON & WILLIAM MORRIS

289

A PROLOGUE IN VERSE

O hearken, ye who speak the English Tongue,
How in a waste land ages long ago,
The very heart of the North bloomed into song
After long brooding o'er this tale of woe!
Hearken, and marvel how it might be so,
That such a sweetness so well crowned could be
Betwixt the ice-hills and the cold grey sea.

Or rather marvel not, that those should cling
Unto the thoughts of great lives passed away,
Whom God has stripped so bare of everything,
Save the one longing to wear through their day,
In fearless wise; the hope the Gods to stay,
When at that last tide gathered wrong and hate
Shall meet blind yearning on the Fields of Fate.

Yea, in the first grey dawning of our race,
This ruth-crowned tangle to sad hearts was dear.
Then rose a seeming sun, the lift gave place
Unto a seeming heaven, far off, but clear;
But that passed too, and afternoon is here;
Nor was the morn so fruitful or so long
But we may hearken when ghosts moan of wrong.

For as amid the clatter of the town
When eve comes on with unabated noise,
The soaring wind will sometimes drop adown
And bear unto our chamber the sweet voice
Of bells that 'mid the swallows do rejoice,
Half-heard, to make us sad, so we awhile
With echoed grief life's dull pain may beguile.

290

Naught vague, naught base our tale, that seems to say:
“Bewide-eyed, kind; curse not the hand that smites;
Curse not the kindness of a past good day,
Or hope of love; cast by all earth's delights,
For very love: through weary days and nights,
Abide thou, striving howsoe'er in vain,
The inmost love of one more heart to gain!”

So draw ye round and hearken, English Folk,
Unto the best tale pity ever wrought!
Of how from dark to dark bright Sigurd broke,
Of Brynhild's glorious soul with love distraught,
Of Gudrun's weary wandering unto naught,
Of utter love defeated utterly,
Of Grief too strong to give Love time to die!

WILLIAM MORRIS

302

CHAPTER VIII. THE DEATH OF KING SIGGEIR AND OF SIGNY.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

305

[Sinfjotli sawed]

[Song.]
Sinfjotli sawed
And Sigmund sawed,
Atwain with main
The stone was done.

320

CHAP. XIV. REGIN'S TALE OF HIS BROTHERS, AND THE GOLD CALLED ANDVARI'S HOARD.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

321

[“‘What fish of all fishes]

[Loki.]
“‘What fish of all fishes,
Swims strong in the flood,
But hath learnt little wit to beware?
Thine head must thou buy,
From abiding in hell,
And find me the wan waters' flame.’

[“‘Andvari folk call me]

[Andvari.]
“‘Andvari folk call me,
Call Oinn my father,
Over many a force have I fared;
For a Norn of ill-luck,
This life on me lay
Through wet ways ever to wade.’

[“‘Gold enow, good enow]

[Loki.]
“‘Gold enow, good enow,
A great weregild, thou hast,
That my head in good hap I may hold;
But thou and thy son
Are naught fated to thrive,
The bane shall it be of you both.’

324

CHAPTER XVII. OF SIGURD'S AVENGING OF SIGMUND HIS FATHER.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

325

[“Hnikar I hight]

[Hnikar.]

“Hnikar I hight,
When I gladdened Huginn,
And went to battle,
Bright son of Volsung;
Now may ye call
The carl on the cliff top,
Feng or Fjolnir:
Fain would I with you.”

They made for land therewith, and took that man aboard. Then quoth Sigurd, as the song says:

“Tell me this, O Hnikar,
Since full well thou knowest
Fate of Gods, good and ill of mankind,
What best our hap foresheweth,
When amid the battle
About us sweeps the sword edge.”

Quoth Hnikar.

“Good are many tokens
If thereof men wotted
When the swords are sweeping:
Fair fellow deem I
The dark-winged raven,
In war, to weapon-wielder.

“The second good thing:
When abroad thou goest
For the long road well arrayed,
Good if thou seest
Two men standing,
Fain of fame within the forecourt.

“A third thing:
Good hearing,
The wolf a howling
Abroad under ash boughs;

326

Good hap shalt thou have
Dealing with helm-staves,
If thou seest these fare before thee.

“No man in fight
His face shall turn
Against the moon's sister
Low, late-shining,
For he winneth battle
Who best beholdeth
Through the midmost sword-play,
And the sloping ranks best shapeth.

“Great is the trouble
Of foot ill-tripping,
When arrayed for fight thou farest,
For on both sides about
Are the Dísir by thee,
Guileful, wishful of thy wounding.

“Fair-combed, well-washen
Let each warrior be,
Nor lack meat in the morning,
For who can rule
The eve's returning,
And base to fall before fate grovelling.”

331

CHAPTER XIX. OF THE SLAYING OF REGIN, SON OF HREIDMAR.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

333

[The wood-peckers a-singing.]

[The first:]
“Bind thou, Sigurd,
The bright red rings!
Not meet it is
Many things to fear.
A fair may know I,
Fair of all the fairest,
Girt about with gold,
Good for thy getting.”

And the second:

“Green go the ways
Toward the hall of Giuki,
That the fates show forth
To those who fare thither;
There the rich king
Reareth a daughter;
Thou shalt deal, Sigurd,
With gold for that sweetling.”

And the third:

“A high hall is there
Reared upon Hindfell,
Without all around it
Sweeps the red flame aloft;
Wise men wrought
That wonder of halls
With the unhidden gleam
Of the glory of gold.”

Then the fourth sang:

“Soft on the fell
A shield-may sleepeth,
The lime-trees' red plague
Playing about her:
The sleep-thorn set Odin

334

Into that maiden
For her choosing in war
The one he willed not.”

“Go, son, behold
That may under helm
Whom from battle
Vinskornir bore,
From her may not turn
The torment of sleep,
Dear offspring of kings,
In the dread Norns' despite.”

CHAPTER XX. OF SIGURD'S MEETING WITH BRYNHILD ON THE MOUNTAIN.

[Songs extracted from the verse narrative.]

335

[What bit on the byrny]

[Brynhild.]
What bit on the byrny,
Why breaks my sleep away,
Who has turned from me
My wan tormenting?

[“Sigmund's son]

[Sigurd.]
“Sigmund's son
With Sigurd's sword
E'en now rent down
The raven's wall.

[“Long have I slept]

[Brynhild.]

“Long have I slept
And slumbered long,
Many and long are the woes of mankind,
By the might of Odin
Must I bide helpless
To shake from off me the spells of slumber.

336

“Hail to the day come back!
Hail, sons of the daylight!
Hail to thee, dark night, and thy daughter!
Look with kind eyes a-down,
On us sitting here lonely,
And give unto us the gain that we long for.

“Hall to the Æsir,
And the sweet Asyniur!
Hail to the fair earth fulfilled of plenty!
Fair words, wise hearts,
Would we win from you,
And healing hands while life we hold.”

[“Beer bring I to thee]

[Brynhild.]

“Beer bring I to thee,
Fair fruit of the byrnies' clash,
Mixed is it mightily,

337

Mingled with fame,
Brimming with bright lays
And pitiful runes,
Wise words, sweet words,
Speech of great game.

“Runes of war know thou,
If great thou wilt be!
Cut them on hilt of hardened sword,
Some on the brand's back,
Some on its shining side,
Twice name Tyr therein.

“Sea-runes good at need,
Learnt for ship's saving,
For the good health of the swimming horse;
On the stern cut them,
Cut them on the rudder-blade
And set flame to shaven oar:
Howso big be the sea-hills,
Howso blue beneath,
Hail from the main then comest thou home.

“Word-runes learn well
If thou wilt that no man
Pay back grief for the grief thou gavest;
Wind thou these,
Weave thou these,
Cast thou these all about thee,
At the Thing,
Where folk throng,
Unto the full doom faring.

“Of ale-runes know the wisdom
If thou wilt that another's wife
Should not bewray thine heart that trusteth;
Cut them on the mead-horn,
On the back of each hand,
And nick an N upon thy nail.

338

“Ale have thou heed
To sign from all harm,
Leek lay thou in the liquor,
Then I know for sure
Never cometh to thee
Mead with hurtful matters mingled.

“Help-runes shalt thou gather
If skill thou wouldst gain
To loosen child from low-laid mother;
Cut be they in hands hollow,
Wrapped the joints round about;
Call for the Good-folks' gainsome helping.

“Learn the bough-runes' wisdom
If leech-lore thou lovest;
And wilt wot about wounds' searching
On the bark be they scored;
On the buds of trees
Whose boughs look eastward ever.

“Thought-runes shalt thou deal with
If thou wilt be of all men
Fairest-souled wight, and wisest;
These areded,
These first cut,
These first took to heart high Hropt.

“On the shield were they scored
That stands before the shining God,
On Early-waking's ear,
On All-knowing's hoof,
On the wheel which runneth
Under Rognir's chariot;
On Sleipnir's jaw-teeth,
On the sleigh's traces.

“On the rough bear's paws,
And on Bragi's tongue,

339

On the wolf's claws,
And on eagle's bill,
On bloody wings,
And bridge's end;
On loosing palms,
And pity's path:

“On glass, and on gold,
And on goodly silver,
In wine and in wort,
And the seat of the witch-wife;
On Gungnir's point,
And Grani's bosom;
On the Norn's nail,
And the neb of the night-owl.

“All these so cut,
Were shaven and sheared,
And mingled in with holy mead,
And sent upon wide ways enow;
Some abide with the Elves,
Some abide with the Æsir,
Or with the wise Vanir,
Some still hold the sons of mankind.

“These be the book-runes,
And the runes of good help,
And all the ale-runes,
And the runes of much might;
To whomso they may avail,
Unbewildered unspoilt;
They are wholesome to have:
Thrive thou with these then,
When thou hast learnt their lore,
Till the Gods end thy life-days.

“Now shalt thou choose thee
E'en as choice is bidden,
Sharp steel's root and stem,

340

Choose song or silence;
See to each in thy heart,
All hurt has been heeded.”

Then answered Sigurd:

“Ne'er shall I flee,
Though thou wottest me fey;
Never was I born for blenching,
Thy loved rede will I
Hold aright in my heart
Even as long as I may live.”

351

CHAPTER XXVII. THE WOOING OF BRYNHILD.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

352

[Song.]

The flame flared at its maddest,
Earth's fields fell a-quaking
As the red flame aloft
Licked the lowest of heaven.
Few had been fain,
Of the rulers of folk,
To ride through that flame,
Or athwart it to tread.

Then Sigurd smote
Grani with sword,
And the flame was slaked
Before the king;
Low lay the flames
Before the fain of fame;
Bright gleamed the array
That Regin erst owned.

354

CHAPTER XXVIII. HOW THE QUEENS HELD ANGRY CONVERSE TOGETHER AT THE BATHING.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

356

[Song.]

The worm Sigurd slew,
Nor e'er shall that deed
Be worsened by age
While the world is alive:
But thy brother the King
Never durst, never bore
The flame to ride down,
Through the fire to fare.

357

CHAP. XXIX. OF BRYNHILD'S GREAT GRIEF AND MOURNING.

362

[Song of Sigurd.]

Out then went Sigurd,
The great kings' well-loved,
From the speech and the sorrow,
Sore drooping, so grieving,
That the shirt round about him
Of iron rings woven,
From the sides brake asunder
Of the brave in the battle.

363

CHAPTER XXX. OF THE SLAYING OF SIGURD FAFNIR'S BANE.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

364

[Song.]

Fish of the wild-wood,
Worm smooth crawling,
With wolf-meat mingled,
They minced for Guttorm;
Then in the beaker,
In the wine his mouth knew,
They set it, still doing
More deeds of wizards.

366

CHAPTER XXXI. OF THE LAMENTATION OF GUDRUN OVER SIGURD DEAD, AS IT IS TOLD IN THE ANCIENT SONGS.

[Gudrun of old days]

Gudrun of old days
Drew near to dying
As she sat in sorrow
Over Sigurd;
Yet she sighed not
Nor smote hand on hand,
Nor wailed she aught
As other women.

367

Then went earls to her,
Full of all wisdom,
Fain help to deal
To her dreadful heart:
Hushed was Gudrun
Of wail or greeting,
But with heavy woe
Was her heart a-breaking.

Bright and fair
Sat the great earls' brides,
Gold arrayed
Before Gudrun;
Each told the tale
Of her great trouble,
The bitterest bale
She erst abode.

Then spake Giaflaug,
Giuki's sister:
“Lo upon earth
I live most loveless
Who of five mates
Must see the ending,
Of daughters twain
And three sisters,
Of brethren eight,
And abide behind lonely.”

Naught gat Gudrun
Of wail or greeting,
So heavy was she
For her dead husband,
So dreadful-hearted
For the King laid dead there.

Then spake Herborg
Queen of Hunland:

368

“Crueller tale
Have I to tell of,
Of my seven sons
Down in the Southlands,
And the eighth man, my mate,
Felled in the death-mead.

“Father and mother,
And four brothers,
On the wide sea
The winds and death played with:
The billows beat
On the bulwark boards.

“Alone must I sing o'er them,
Alone must I array them,
Alone must my hands deal with
Their departing;
And all this was
In one season's wearing,
And none was left
For love or solace.

“Then was I bound
A prey of the battle,
When that same season
Wore to its ending;
As a tiring may
Must I bind the shoon
Of the duke's high dame,
Every day at dawning.

“From her jealous hate
Gat I heavy mocking,
Cruel lashes
She laid upon me,

369

Never met I
Better master
Or mistress worser
In all the wide world.”

Naught gat Gudrun
Of wail or greeting,
So heavy was she
For her dead husband,
So dreadful-hearted
For the King laid dead there.

Then spake Gullrond,
Giuki's daughter:
“O foster-mother,
Wise as thou mayst be,
Naught canst thou better
The young wife's bale.”
And she bade uncover
The dead King's corpse.

She swept the sheet
Away from Sigurd,
And turned his cheek
Towards his wife's knees—
“Look on thy loved one
Lay lips to his lips,
E'en as thou wert clinging
To thy king alive yet!”

Once looked Gudrun—
One look only,
And saw her lord's locks
Lying all bloody,
The great man's eyes
Glazed and deadly,

370

And his heart's bulwark
Broken by sword-edge.

Back then sank Gudrun,
Back on the bolster,
Loosed was her head array,
Red did her cheeks grow,
And the rain-drops ran
Down over her knees.

Then wept Gudrun,
Giuki's daughter,
So that the tears flowed
Through the pillow;
As the geese withal
That were in the homefield,
The fair fowls the may owned,
Fell a-screaming.

Then spake Gullrond,
Giuki's daughter:
“Surely knew I
No love like your love
Among all men,
On the mould abiding;
Naught wouldst thou joy in
Without or within doors,
O my sister,
Save beside Sigurd.”

Then spoke Gudrun,
Giuki's daughter:
“Such was my Sigurd
Among the sons of Giuki,
As is the king leek
O'er the low grass waxing,
Or a bright stone

371

Strung on band,
Or a pearl of price
On a prince's brow.

“Once was I counted
By the king's warriors
Higher than any
Of Herjan's mays;
Now am I as little
As the leaf may be,
Amid wind-swept wood
Now when dead he lieth.

“I miss from my seat,
I miss from my bed,
My darling of sweet speech.
Wrought the sons of Giuki,
Wrought the sons of Giuki,
This sore sorrow,
Yea, for their sister,
Most sore sorrow.

“So may your lands
Lie waste on all sides,
As ye have broken
Your bounden oaths!
Ne'er shalt thou, Gunnar,
The gold have joy of,
The dear-bought rings
Shall drag thee to death,
Whereon thou swarest
Oath unto Sigurd.

“Ah, in the days by-gone
Great mirth in the homefield
When my Sigurd
Set saddle on Grani,

372

And they went their ways
For the wooing of Brynhild!
An ill day, an ill woman,
And most ill hap!”

Then spake Brynhild,
Budli's daughter:
“May the woman lack
Both love and children,
Who gained greeting
For thee, O Gudrun!
Who gave thee this morning
Many words!”

Then spake Gullrond,
Giuki's daughter:
“Hold peace of such words
Thou hated of all folk!
The bane of brave men
Hast thou been ever,
All waves of ill
Wash over thy mind,
To seven great kings
Hast thou been a sore sorrow
And the death of good will
To wives and women.”

Then spake Brynhild,
Budli's daughter:
“None but Atli
Brought bale upon us,
My very brother
Born of Budli.

“When we saw in the hall
Of the Hunnish people
The gold a-gleaming

373

On the kingly Giukings;
I have paid for that faring
Oft and full,
And for the sight
That then I saw.”

By a pillar she stood
And strained its wood to her;
From the eyes of Brynhild,
Budli's daughter,
Flashed out fire,
And she snorted forth venom,
As the sore wounds she gazed on
Of the dead-slain Sigurd.

375

CHAP. XXXIII. GUDRUN WEDDED TO ATLI.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

377

[Song.]

Byrnies short cut,
Strong helms hammered,
Girt with good swords,
Red hair gleaming.

[Song.]

On the 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 beer were mingled
Many ills together,
Blood of all the wood
And brown-burnt acorns,
The black dew of the hearth,
The God-doomed dead beast's inwards,
And the swine's liver sodden
Because all wrongs that deadens.

395

CHAPTER XLIII. THE LATTER END OF ALL THE KIN OF THE GIUKINGS.

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

396

[Song.]

Off were the head
If Erp were alive yet,
Our brother the bold,
Whom we slew by the way,
The well-famed in warfare.
NOW MAY ALL EARLS
BE BETTERED IN MIND,
MAY THE GRIEF OF ALL MAIDENS
EVER BE MINISHED,
FOR THIS TALE OF TROUBLE
SO TOLD TO ITS ENDING.

397

CERTAIN SONGS FROM THE ELDER EDDA, WHICH DEAL WITH THE STORY OF THE VOLSUNGS

PART OF THE SECOND LAY OF HELGI HUNDING'S-BANE

[Songs extracted from the prose narrative.]

[DAG]
Loth am I, sister,
Of sorrow to tell thee,
For by hard need driven
Have I drawn on thee 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

398

At the bright white
Water of Lightening,
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.

399

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 bear him
As the ash-tree's glory
From the thorn ariseth,
Or as the fawn
With the dew-fall sprinkled
Is far above

400

All other wild things,
As his horns go gleaming
'Gainst the very heavens.

[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]
It is vain things' beguiling
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

401

Our horses' sides;
Rather dead warriors
May wend their ways homeward.

[A BONDMAID OF SIGRUN]
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.

[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;

402

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.

[SIGRUN]
Here, Helgi, for thee
A bed have I dight,
Kind without woe,

403

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 waketh.

Here now would he come,
If to come he were minded;
Sigmund's offspring
From the halls of Odin.

404

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.

THE 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.

Only that part of the song is given which completes the episode of Helgi Hunding's-bane; the earlier part of the song differs little from the Saga.

Hall-crower, Salgofnir: lit. Hall-gaper, the cock of Valhall.

405

PART OF THE LAY OF SIGRDRIFA

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-begetting by the way,
Good going further
Rather than guesting,
Though thick night be on thee.

406

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,
Deal 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 to unmeet pleasure.

407

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 foredone,
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:
Unto 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.

This continues the first part of the lay given in Chap. xx of the Saga; and is, in fact, the original verse of Chap. xxi.

408

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

409

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,
Offull many things
She fell 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.

410

“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 loose
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 each man lieth
Vengeance lighter,
And peace shall be surer
If the son live not.”

Adrad was Gunnar,
Heavy-hearted was he,

411

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;

412

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

413

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 cast 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

414

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,

415

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 shouldst 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

416

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.

417

“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;
Naught were his eyen
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

418

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—
—Yet 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:

419

“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.”

Unpraised 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 bolster'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

420

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.

“Though on the bones of you
Surely shall burn,
Less dear treasure
At your departing,
Nor with Menia's Meal
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

421

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 lull 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!—

422

“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
Fate 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.

423

—“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—
The 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!

424

“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 ring-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.

425

“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.”

426

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.

427

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,

428

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:

429

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!

430

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.

431

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

432

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

433

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 nought,
O ye oath-breakers!

434

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 aforetime,
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.

435

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 gleed-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

436

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.”

437

“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
What the wolves had left me;
No sigh I made
Nor 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

438

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;

439

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,

440

If they might yet,
Despite my sorrow,
Win back my trust,
But in them naught 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 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,
And god-doomed dead beasts' in wards,
And the swine's liver sodden,
For wrongs late done that deadens.

Then waned my memory
When that was within me,

441

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

442

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.”

443

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 brothers' 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,
Unlocked the barriers

444

Ere the burg-garth we rode to—
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

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 fire's 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.

445

“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.

Son was the vessel into which was poured the blood of Quasir, the God of Poetry.

This means soot.

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 (Stockholm, 1818) would make this refer much more directly to the slaying of her sons by Gudrun.

446

THE SONG OF ATLI

Gudrun, Giuki's daughter, avenged 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 home of King Atli.

“Shields shall ye have there
And spears ashen-shafted,
Helms ruddy with gold,
And hosts of the Huns;

447

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,
Mighty 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 e'er 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

448

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
If 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

449

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 Hun wood 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,

450

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:
Thou 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 Norns' 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 lords unshamed,
From the hills of the Rhine!”
[OMITTED]
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Seven Hogni beat down
With his sword sharp-grinded,

451

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,
Buy 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

452

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 drew 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,

453

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 full often;
Yea, oaths sworn of old time,
By the sun sloping southward,
By the high burg of Sigty,
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,

454

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 foemen.

Then Atli would wend
About his wide land,
On his steel 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.

455

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 Eitil,
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,

456

The young ones, the simple
Once gotten with Atli.
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

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 unware
Was a-weary with drink;
No weapon had he,
No heeding of Gudrun—
Ah, the play 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;

457

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!

458

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
Whetted 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.—

459

“Little like are ye grown
To that Gunnar of old days!
Naught 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 hast urged us
Unto the sword-Thing!”

Laughing went Gudrun
To the bower of good gear,
Kings' crested helms

460

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

461

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 behold.

462

“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!

463

“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.

464

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,
Whetted 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

465

When the bough-breaking wind
The warm day endeth.

“Few, sad, are ye left,
O kings of my folk!
Ye alone living
Last threads 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 satt'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;
Then 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,

466

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,
Mayst 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 of all wiles:
“And thou, little Erp,
What helping from thee?”

He of alien womb
Spake out in such wise:
“Good help for my kin,

467

Such as foot gives to foot,
Or flesh-covered hand
Gives unto hand!”

“What helping for foot
The 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,

468

Yea, their sister's son
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

469

Would I bind them,
And hang the good Giukings
Aloft on the gallows!”
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
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?”
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
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,
For 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,

470

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!”
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

QUOTH SORLI

“Bale, brother, wroughtst thou
By that bag's 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

“Yea, 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 fates 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.

471

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 to-morrow,—
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.

Randver, the son of their sister's husband.

Odin, namely.

472

THE LAMENT OF ODDRUN

There was a king hight Heidrek, 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, Atli'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 heard tell
In ancient tales
How a may there came
To Morna-land,
Because no man
On mould abiding
For Heidrek's daughter
Might win healing.

All that heard Oddrun,
Atli'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:

473

“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 sang Oddrun,
Eagerly sang 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

474

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,
Frey 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,

475

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 he 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,

476

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

477

As she 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,

478

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,
Nought 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.
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

“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 mighty king
Had ever mind
That I to his helping
Soon should come.

479

“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
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,

480

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.”

Atli's mother took the form of the only adder that was not lulled to sleep by Gunnar's harp-playing, and who slew him.