| |
| GREAT deeds of bale | |
| In the garth began, | |
| At the sad dawning | |
| The tide of Elves sorrow | |
| When day is a-waxing | 5 |
| And mans grief awaketh, | |
| And the sorrow of each one | |
| The early day quickeneth. | |
| |
| Not now, not now, | |
| Nor yesterday, | 10 |
| But long ago | |
| Has that day worn by, | |
| That ancientest time, | |
| The first time to tell of, | |
| Then, whenas Gudrun, | 15 |
| Born of Giuki, | |
| Whetted her sons | |
| To Swanhilds avenging. | |
| |
| Your sisters name | |
| Was naught but Swanhild, | 20 |
| Whom Jormunrek | |
| With horses has trodden! | |
| White horses and black | |
| On the war-beaten way, | |
| Grey horses that go | 25 |
| 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; | 30 |
| As bare of things longed for | |
| As the willow of leaves | |
| When the bough-breaking wind | |
| The warm day endeth. | |
| |
| Few, sad, are ye left, | 35 |
| O kings of my folk! | |
| Yet alone living | |
| Last shreds of my kin! | |
| |
| Ah, naught are ye grown | |
| As that Gunnar of old days; | 40 |
| Naught are your hearts | |
| As the heart of Hogni! | |
| Well would ye seek | |
| Vengeance to win | |
| If your hearts were in aught | 45 |
| As the hearts of my brethren! | |
| |
| Then spake Hamdir | |
| The high-hearted: | |
| Naught hadst thou to praise | |
| The doings of Hogni, | 50 |
| When they woke up Sigurd | |
| From out of slumber, | |
| And in bed thou satst up | |
| Mid the banes-mens laughter. | |
| |
| Then when thy bed-gear, | 55 |
| Blue-white, well woven | |
| By art of craftsmen | |
| Ail swam with thy kings blood; | |
| Then Sigurd died, | |
| Oer his dead corpse thou sattest, | 60 |
| Not heeding aught gladsome, | |
| Since Gunnar so willed it. | |
| |
| Great grief for Atli | |
| Gatst thou by Erps murder, | |
| And the end of thine Eitil, | 65 |
| 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! | 70 |
| |
| Then well spake Sorli | |
| From a heart full of wisdom: | |
| No words will I | |
| Make with my mother, | |
| Though both ye twain | 75 |
| Need words belike | |
| What askest thou, Gudrun, | |
| To let thee go greeting? | |
| |
| Weep for thy brethren, | |
| Weep for thy sweet sons, | 80 |
| And thy nighest kinsfolk | |
| Laid by the fight-side! | |
| Yea, and thou Gudrun, | |
| Mayst greet for us twain | |
| Sitting fey on our steeds | 85 |
| Doomed in far lands to die. | |
| |
| From the garth forth they went | |
| With hearts full of fury, | |
| Sorli and Hamdir, | |
| The sons of Gudrun, | 90 |
| And they met on the way | |
| The wise in all wiles: | |
| And thou little Erp, | |
| What helping from thee? | |
| |
| He of alien womb | 95 |
| Spake out in such wise: | |
| Good help for my kin, | |
| Such as foot gives to foot, | |
| Or flesh-covered hand | |
| Gives unto hand! | 100 |
| |
| What helping for foot | |
| That help that foot giveth, | |
| Or for flesh-covered hand | |
| The helping of hand? | |
| |
| Then spake Erp | 105 |
| Yet once again | |
| Mock spake the prince | |
| As he sat on his steed: | |
| Fools deed to show | |
| The way to a dastard! | 110 |
| Bold beyond measure, | |
| Quoth they, is the base-born! | |
| |
| Out from the sheath | |
| Drew they the sheath-steel, | |
| And the glaives edges played | 115 |
| 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. | 120 |
| |
| Then their fur-cloaks they shook | |
| And bound fast their swords, | |
| In webs goodly woven | |
| Those great ones were clad; | |
| Young they went oer the fells | 125 |
| 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, | 130 |
| Yea, their sisters son 1 | |
| Hanging slain upon tree | |
| Wolf-trees by the wind made cold | |
| At the towns westward | |
| Loud with cranes clatter | 135 |
| Ill abiding there long! | |
| |
| Din in the kings hall | |
| Of men merry with drink, | |
| And none might hearken | |
| The horses tramping | 140 |
| Or ever the warders | |
| Their great horn winded. | |
| |
| Then men went forth | |
| To Jormunrek | |
| To tell of the heeding | 145 |
| 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. | 150 |
| |
| Loud Jormunrek laughed, | |
| And laid hand to his beard, | |
| Nor bade bring his byrny, | |
| But with the wine fighting, | |
| Shook his red locks, | 155 |
| 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, | 160 |
| Sorli and Hamdir, | |
| Here in my hall! | |
| Then with bowstrings | |
| Would I bind them, | |
| And hang the good Giukings | 165 |
| Aloft on the gallows! | |
| |
| Then spake Hrothglod | |
| From off the high steps, | |
| Spake the slim-fingered | |
| Unto her son, | 170 |
| For a threat was cast forth | |
| Of what neer should fall | |
| Shall two men alone | |
| Two hundred Gothfolk | |
| Bind or bear down | 175 |
| In the midst of their burg? | |
| |
| Strife and din in the hall, | |
| Cups smitten asunder | |
| Men lay low in blood | |
| From the breasts of Goths flowing. | 180 |
| |
| Then spake Hamdir, | |
| The high-hearted: | |
| Thou cravedst, O king, | |
| For the coming of us, | |
| The sons of one mother, | 185 |
| Amidmost thine hall | |
| Look on these hands of thine, | |
| Look on these feet of thine, | |
| Cast by us, Jormunrek, | |
| On to the flame! | 190 |
| |
| Then cried aloud | |
| The high Gods kinsman, 2 | |
| Bold under byrny, | |
| Roared he as bears roar; | |
| Stones to the stout ones | 195 |
| That the spears bite not, | |
| Nor the edges of steel, | |
| These sons of Jonakr! | |
| |
QUOTH SORLI Bale, brother, wroughtst thou | |
| By that bags 3 opening, | 200 |
| Oft from that bag | |
| Rede of bale cometh! | |
| Heart hast thou, Hamdir, | |
| If thou hadst hearts wisdom | |
| Great lack in a man | 205 |
| 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; | 210 |
| 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 | 215 |
| 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. | 220 |
| |
| In strong wise have we fought, | |
| On Goths corpses we stand, | |
| Beat down by our edges, | |
| Een as ernes on the bough. | |
| Great fame our might winneth, | 225 |
| Die we now, or to-morrow, | |
| No man lives till eve | |
| Whom the fates doom at morning. | |
| At the halls gable-end | |
| Fell Sorli to earth, | 230 |
| But Hamdir lay low | |
At the back of the houses.
Now this is called the Ancient Lay of Hamdir. | |