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C.D. Warner, et al., comp.  The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes.  1917.
Of the Lamentation of Gudrun over Sigurd Dead
The Eddas (Icelandic; Ninth to Thirteenth Centuries)
First Lay of Gudrun

William Morris in ‘The Story of the Völsungs and Niblungs’: translated by Eiríkr Magnússon and Morris, London, 1870

GUDRUN of old days
Drew near to dying,
As she sat in sorrow
Over Sigurd;
Yet she sighed not        5
Nor smote hand on hand,
Nor wailed she aught
As other women.
Then went earls to her,
Full of all wisdom,        10
Fain help to deal
To her dreadful heart:
Hushed was Gudrun
Of wail, or greeting,
But with heavy woe        15
Was her heart a-breaking.
Bright and fair
Sat the great earls’ brides,
Before Gudrun;        20
Each told the tale
Of her great trouble,
The bitterest bale
She erst abode.
Then spake Giaflaug,        25
Giuki’s sister:—
“Lo, upon earth
I live most loveless,
Who of five mates
Must see the ending,        30
Of daughters twain
And three sisters,
Of brethren eight,
And abide behind lonely.”
Naught gat Gudrun        35
Of wail or greeting,
So heavy was she
For her dead husband;
So dreadful-hearted
For the King laid dead there.        40
Then spake Herborg,
Queen of Hunland:—
“Crueler tale
Have I to tell of,
Of my seven sons        45
Down in the Southlands,
And the eighth man, my mate,
Felled in the death-mead.
“Father and mother,
And four brothers,        50
On the wide sea
The winds and death played with;
The billows beat
On the bulwark boards.
“Alone must I sing o’er them,        55
Alone must I array them,
Alone must my hands deal with
Their departing;
And all this was
In one season’s wearing,        60
And none was left
For love or solace.
“Then was I bound
A prey of the battle,
When that same season        65
Wore to its ending;
As a tiring may
Must I bind the shoon
Of the duke’s high dame,
Every day at dawning.        70
“From her jealous hate
Gat I heavy mocking,
Cruel lashes
She laid upon me,
Never met I        75
Better master
Or mistress worser
In all the wide world.”
Naught gat Gudrun
Of wail or greeting,        80
So heavy was she
For her dead husband,
So dreadful-hearted
For the King laid dead there.
Then spake Gullrond,        85
Giuki’s daughter—
“O foster-mother,
Wise as thou mayst be,
Naught canst thou better
The young wife’s bale.”        90
And she bade uncover
The dead King’s corpse.
She swept the sheet
Away from Sigurd,
And turned his cheek        95
Toward 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!”        100
Once looked Gudrun—
One look only,
And saw her lord’s locks
Lying all bloody,
The great man’s eyes        105
Glazed and deadly,
And his heart’s bulwark
Broken by sword-edge.
Back then sank Gudrun,
Back on the bolster,        110
Loosed was her head array,
Red did her cheeks grow,
And the rain-drops ran
Down over her knees.
Then wept Gudrun,        115
Giuki’s daughter,
So that the tears flowed
Through the pillow;
As the geese withal
That were in the homefield,        120
The fair fowls the may owned,
Fell a-screaming.
Then spake Gullrond,
Giuki’s daughter—
“Surely knew I        125
No love like your love
Among all men,
On the mold abiding;
Naught wouldst thou joy in
Without or within doors,        130
O my sister,
Save beside Sigurd.”
Then spake Gudrun,
Giuki’s daughter—
“Such was my Sigurd        135
Among the sons of Giuki,
As is the king leek
O’er the low grass waxing,
Or a bright stone
Strung on band,        140
Or a pearl of price
On a prince’s brow.
“Once was I counted
By the king’s warriors
Higher than any        145
Of Herjan’s mays;
Now am I as little
As the leaf may be,
Amid wind-swept wood
Now when dead, he lieth.        150
“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,        155
This sore sorrow,
Yea, for their sister,
Most sore sorrow.
“So may your lands
Lie waste on all sides,        160
As ye have broken
Your bounden oaths!
Ne’er shalt thou, Gunnar,
The gold have joy of,
The dear-bought rings        165
Shall drag thee to death,
Whereon thou swarest
Oath unto Sigurd.
“Ah, in the days by-gone,
Great mirth in the homefield,        170
When my Sigurd
Set saddle on Grani,
And they went their ways
For the wooing of Brynhild!
An ill day, an ill woman,        175
And most ill hap!”
Then spake Brynhild,
Budli’s daughter—
“May the woman lack
Both love and children,        180
Who gained greeting
For thee, O Gudrun!
Who gave thee this morning
Many words!”
Then spake Gullrond,        185
Giuki’s daughter—
“Hold peace of such words,
Thou hated of all folk!
The bane of brave men
Hast thou been ever,        190
All waves of ill
Wash over thy mind,
To seven great kings
Hast thou been a sore sorrow,
And the death of good will        195
To wives and women.”
Then spake Brynhild,
Budli’s daughter—
“None but Atli
Brought bale upon us,        200
My very brother
Born of Budli.
“When we saw in the hall
Of the Hunnish people
The gold a-gleaming        205
On the kingly Giukings;
I have paid for that faring
Oft and fully,
And for the sight
That then I saw.”        210
By a pillar she stood
And strained its wood to her;
From the eyes of Brynhild,
Budli’s daughter,
Flashed out fire,        215
And she snorted forth venom,
As the sore wounds she gazed on
Of the dead-slain Sigurd.

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