Certain Songs from the Elder Edda which Deal with the Story of the Volsungs. The Lament of Oddrun. 1909-14. The Story of the Volsungs and Niblungs. The Harvard Classics

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The Story of the Volsungs and Niblungs.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.

Certain Songs from the Elder Edda which Deal with the Story of the Volsungs

The Lament of Oddrun

THERE was a king hight Heidrik, and his daughter was called Borgny, and the name of her lover was Vilmund. Now she might nowise be made lighter of a child she travailed with, before Oddrun, 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 Heidrik’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:

	“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
	Of Hogni’s bane:
	Then the damsel forewearied
	The word took up,
	The first word of all
	That had won from her:

	“So may help thee
	All helpful things,
	Fey and Freyia,
	And all the fair Gods,
	As thou hast thrust
	This torment from me!”

	ODDRUN SAID “Yet no heart had I
	For thy helping,
	Since never wert thou
	Worthy of helping,
	But my word I held to,
	That of old was spoken
	When the high lords
	Dealt out the heritage,
	That every soul
	I would ever help.”

	BORGNY SAID “Right mad art thou, Oddrun,
	And reft of thy wits,
	Whereas thou speakest
	Hard words to me
	Thy fellow ever
	Upon the earth
	As of brothers twain,
	We had been born.”

	ODDRUN SAID “Well I mind me yet,
	What thou saidst that evening,
	Whenas I bore forth
	Fair drink for Gunnar;
	Such a thing, saidst thou,
	Should fall out never,
	For any may
	Save for me alone.”

	Mind had the damsel
	Of the weary day
	Whenas the high lords
	Dealt out the heritage,
	And she sat her down,
	The sorrowful woman,
	To tell of the bale,
	And the heavy trouble.

	“Nourished was I
	In the hall of kings—
	Most folk were glad—
	‘Mid the council of great ones:
	In fair life lived I,
	And the wealth of my father
	For five winters only,
	While yet he had life.

	“Such were the last words
	That ever he spake,
	The king forewearied,
	Ere his ways he went;
	For 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,
	And said that Death-chooser
	She should become;
	And that no better
	Might ever be born
	Into the world,
	If fate would not spoil it.

	“Brynhild in bower
	Sewed at her broidery,
	Folk she had
	And fair lands about her;
	Earth lay a-sleeping,
	Slept the heavens aloft
	When Fafnir’s-bane
	The burg first saw.

	“Then was war waged
	With the Welsh-wrought sword
	And the burg all broken
	That Brynhild owned;
	Nor wore long space,
	E’en as well might be,
	Ere all those wiles
	Full well she knew.

	“Hard and dreadful
	Was the vengeance she drew down,
	So that all we
	Have woe enow.
	Through all lands of the world
	Shall that story fare forth
	How she did her to death
	For the death of Sigurd.

	“But therewithal Gunnar
	The gold-scatterer
	Did I fall to loving
	And 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,
	And thither they came
	Where they ne’er should have come,
	Where one bed we twain
	Had dight betwixt us.

	“To those men had we given
	Rings of red gold,
	Naught to tell
	Thereof to Atli,
	But straight they hastened
	Home to the house,
	And all the tale
	To Atli told.

	“Whereas from Gudrun
	Well they hid it,
	Though better by half
	Had she have known it.
	“Din was there to hear
	Of the hoofs gold-shod,
	When into the garth
	Rode the sons of Giuki.

	“There from Hogni
	The heart they cut,
	But into the worm-close
	Cast the other.
	There the king, the wise-hearted,
	Swept his harp-strings,
	For the mighty king
	Had ever mind
	That I to his helping
	Soon should come.

	“But now was I gone
	Yet once again
	Unto Geirmund,
	Good feast to make;
	Yet had I hearing,
	E’en out from Hlesey,
	How of sore trouble
	The harp-strings sang.

	“So I bade the bondmaids
	Be ready swiftly,
	For I listed to save
	The life of the king,
	And we let our ship
	Swim over the sound,
	Till Atli’s dwelling
	We saw all clearly.

	“Then came the wretch 1
	Crawling out,
	E’en Atli’s mother,
	All sorrow upon her!
	A grave gat her sting
	In the heart of Gunnar,
	So that no helping
	Was left for my hero.

	“O gold-clad woman,
	Full oft I wonder
	How I my life
	Still hold thereafter,
	For methought I loved
	That light in battle,
	The swift with the sword,
	As my very self.

	“Thou hast sat and hearkened
	As I have told thee
	Of many an ill-fate,
	Mine and theirs—
	Each man liveth
	E’en as he may live—
	Now hath gone forth
	The greeting of Oddrun.”

Note 1. 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. [back]

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