"Ah, nothing seemly For Sigurd to rule Giuki's house And the folk of the Goths, When of him five sons For the slaying of men, Eager for battle, Should have been begotten!"

Then laughed Brynhild— Loud rang the whole house— One laugh only From out her heart: "Long shall your bliss be Of lands and people, Whereas the famed lord You have felled to the earth!"

Then spake Gudrun, Giuki's daughter; "Much thou speakest, Many things fearful, All grame be on Gunnar The bane of Sigurd! From a heart full of hate Shall come heavy vengeance."

Forth sped the even Enow there was drunken, Full enow was there Of all soft speech; And all men got sleep When to bed they were gotten; Gunnar only lay waking Long after all men.

His feet fell he to moving, Fell to speak to himself The waster of men, Still turned in his mind What on the bough Those twain would be saying, The raven and erne, As they rode their ways homeward.

But Brynhild awoke, Budli's daughter, May of the shield-folk, A little ere morning: "Thrust ye on, hold ye back, —Now all harm is wrought,— To tell of my sorrow, Or to let all slip by me?"

All kept silence After her speaking, None might know That woman's mind, Or why she must weep To tell of the work That laughing once Of men she prayed.

BRYNHILD SPAKE: "In dreams, O Gunnar, Grim things fell on me; Dead-cold the hall was, And my bed was a-cold, And thou, lord, wert riding Reft of all bliss, Laden with fetters 'Mid the host of thy foemen."

"So now all ye, O House of the Niblungs, Shall be brought to naught, O ye oath-breakers!

"Think'st thou not, Gunnar, How that betid, When ye let the blood run Both in one footstep? With ill reward Hast thou rewarded His heart so fain To be the foremost!

"As well was seen When he rode his ways, That king of all worth, Unto my wooing; How the host-destroyer Held to the vows Sworn beforetime, Sworn to the young king.

"For his wounding-wand All wrought with gold, The king beloved Laid between us; Without were its edges Wrought with fire, But with venom-drops Deep dyed within."

Thus this song telleth of the death of Sigurd, and setteth forth how that they slew him without doors; but some say that they slew him within doors, sleeping in his bed. But the Dutch Folk say that they slew him out in the wood: and so sayeth the ancient song of Gudrun, that Sigurd and the sons of Giuki were riding to the Thing whenas he was slain. But all with one accord say that they bewrayed him in their troth with him, and fell on him as he lay unarrayed and unawares.



THE SECOND OR ANCIENT LAY OF GUDRUN.

Thiodrek the King was in Atli's house, and had lost there the more part of his men: so there Thiodrek and Gudrun bewailed their troubles one to the other, and she spake and said:—

A may of all mays My mother reared me Bright in bower; Well loved I my brethren, Until that Giuki With gold arrayed me, With gold arrayed me, And gave me to Sigurd.

Such was my Sigurd, Among the sons of Giuki As is the green leek O'er the low grass waxen, Or a hart high-limbed Over hurrying deer, Or glede-red gold Over grey silver.

Till me they begrudged, Those my brethren, The fate to have him, Who was first of all men; Nor might they sleep, Nor sit a-dooming, Ere they let slay My well-loved Sigurd.

Grani ran to the Thing, There was clatter to hear, But never came Sigurd Himself thereunto; All the saddle-girt beasts With blood were besprinkled, As faint with the way Neath the slayers they went.

Then greeting I went With Grani to talk, And with tear-furrowed cheeks I bade him tell all; But drooping laid Grani, His head in the grass, For the steed well wotted Of his master's slaying.

A long while I wandered, Long my mind wavered, Ere the kings I might ask Concerning my king.

Then Gunnar hung head, But Hogni told Of the cruel slaying Of my Sigurd: "On the water's far side Lies, smitten to death, The bane of Guttorm To the wolves given over.

"Go, look on Sigurd, On the ways that go southward, There shalt thou hear The ernes high screaming, The ravens a-croaking As their meat they crave for; Thou shalt hear the wolves howling Over thine husband.

"How hast thou, Hogni, The heart to tell me, Me of joy made empty, Of such misery? Thy wretched heart May the ravens tear Wide over the world, With no men mayst thou wend."

One thing Hogni Had for answer, Fallen from his high heart, Full of all trouble: "More greeting yet, O Gudrun, for thee, If my heart the ravens Should rend asunder!"

Thence I turned From the talk and the trouble To go a leasing (1) What the wolves had left me; No sigh I made No smote hands together, Nor did I wail As other women When I sat over My Sigurd slain.

Night methought it, And the moonless dark, When I sat in sorrow Over Sigurd; Better than all things I deemed it would be If they would let me Cast my life by, Or burn me up As they burn the birch-wood.

From the fell I wandered Five days together, Until the high hall Of Half lay before me; Seven seasons there I sat with Thora, The daughter of Hacon, Up in Denmark.

My heart to gladden With gold she wrought Southland halls And swans of the Dane-folk; There had we painted The chiefs a-playing; Fair our hands wrought Folk of the kings.

Red shields we did, Doughty knights of the Huns, Hosts spear-dight, hosts helm-dight, All a high king's fellows; And the ships of Sigmund From the land swift sailing; Heads gilt over And prows fair graven.

On the cloth we broidered That tide of their battling, Siggeir and Siggar, South in Fion.

Then heard Grimhild, The Queen of Gothland, How I was abiding, Weighed down with woe; And she thrust the cloth from her And called to her sons, And oft and eagerly Asked them thereof, Who for her son Would their sister atone, Who for her lord slain Would lay down weregild.

Fain was Gunnar Gold to lay down All wrongs to atone for, And Hogni in likewise; Then she asked who was fain Of faring straightly, The steed to saddle To set forth the wain, The horse to back, And the hawk to fly, To shoot forth the arrow From out the yew-bow.

Valdarr the Dane-king Came with Jarisleif Eymod the third went Then went Jarizskar; In kingly wise In they wended, The host of the Longbeards; Red cloaks had they, Byrnies short-cut, Helms strong hammered, Girt with glaives, And hair red-gleaming.

Each would give me Gifts desired, Gifts desired, Speech dear to my heart, If they might yet, Despite my sorrow, Win back my trust, But in them nought I trusted.

Then brought me Grimhild A beaker to drink of, Cold and bitter, Wrong's memory to quench; Made great was that drink With the might of the earth, With the death-cold sea And the blood that Son (2) 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, (3) And god-doomed dead beasts' inwards And the swine's liver sodden, For wrongs late done that deadens.

Then waned my memory When that was within me, Of my lord 'mid the hall By the iron laid low. Three kings came Before my knees Ere she herself Fell to speech with me.

"I will give to thee, Gudrun, Gold to be glad with, All the great wealth Of thy father gone from us, Rings of red gold And the great hall of Lodver, And all fair hangings left By the king late fallen.

"Maids of the Huns Woven pictures to make, And work fair in gold Till thou deem'st thyself glad. Alone shalt thou rule O'er the riches of Budli, Shalt be made great with gold, And be given to Atli."

"Never will I Wend to a husband, Or wed the brother Of Queen Brynhild; Naught it beseems me With the son of Budli Kin to bring forth, Or to live and be merry."

"Nay, the high chiefs Reward not with hatred, For take heed that I Was the first in this tale! To thy heart shall it be As if both these had life, Sigurd and Sigmund, When thou hast borne sons."

"Naught may I, Grimhild, Seek after gladness, Nor deem aught hopeful Of any high warrior, Since wolf and raven Were friends together, The greedy, the cruel, O'er great Sigurd's heart-blood."

"Of all men that can be For the noblest of kin This king have I found, And the foremost of all; Him shalt thou have Till with eld thou art heavy— Be thou ever unwed, If thou wilt naught of him!"

"Nay, nay, bid me not With thy words long abiding To take unto me That balefullest kin; This king shall bid Gunnar Be stung to his bane, And shall cut the heart From out of Hogni.

"Nor shall I leave life Ere the keen lord, The eager in sword-play, My hand shall make end of."

Grimhild a-weeping Took up the word then, When the sore bale she wotted Awaiting her sons, And the bane hanging over Her offspring beloved.

"I will give thee, moreover, Great lands, many men, Wineberg and Valberg, If thou wilt but have them; Hold them lifelong, And live happy, O daughter!"

"Then him must I take From among kingly men, 'Gainst my heart's desire, From the hands of my kinsfolk; But no joy I look To have from that lord: Scarce may my brother's bane Be a shield to my sons."

Soon was each warrior Seen on his horse, But the Gaulish women Into wains were gotten; Then seven days long O'er a cold land we rode, And for seven other Clove we the sea-waves. But with the third seven O'er dry land we wended.

There the gate-wardens Of the burg, high and wide, Unlooked the barriers Ere the burg-garth we rode to—

............

Atli woke me When meseemed I was Full evil of heart For my kin dead slain.

"In such wise did the Norns Wake me or now."— Fain was he to know Of this ill foreshowing— "That methought, O Gudrun, Giuki's daughter, That thou setst in my heart A sword wrought for guile."

"For fires tokening I deem it That dreaming of iron, But for pride and for lust The wrath of fair women Against some bale Belike, I shall burn thee For thy solace and healing Though hateful thou art."

"In the fair garth methought Had saplings fallen E'en such as I would Should have waxen ever; Uprooted were these, And reddened with blood, And borne to the bench, And folk bade me eat of them.

"Methought from my hand then Went hawks a-flying Lacking their meat To the land of all ill; Methought that their hearts Mingled with honey, Swollen with blood I ate amid sorrow.

"Lo, next two whelps From my hands I loosened, Joyless were both, And both a-howling; And now their flesh Became naught but corpses, Whereof must I eat But sore against my will."

"O'er the prey of the fishers Will folk give doom; From the bright white fish The heads will they take; Within a few nights, Fey as they are, A little ere day Of that draught will they eat."

"Ne'er since lay I down, Ne'er since would I sleep, Hard of heart, in my bed:— That deed have I to do. (4)

ENDNOTES: (1) The original has "a vid lesa". "Leasing" is the word still used for gleaning in many country sides in England. (2) Son was the vessel into which was poured the blood of Quasir, the God of Poetry. (3) This means soot. (4) The whole of this latter part is fragmentary and obscure; there seems wanting to two of the dreams some trivial interpretation by Gudrun, like those given by Hogni to Kostbera in the Saga, of which nature, of course, the interpretation contained in the last stanza but one is, as we have rendered it: another rendering, from the different reading of the earlier edition of "Edda" (Copenhagen, 1818) would make this refer much more directly to the slaying of her sons by Gudrun.



THE SONG OF ATLI.

Gudrun, Giuki's daughter, avenger her brethren, as is told far and wide; first she slew the sons of Atli, and then Atli himself; and she burned the hall thereafter, and all the household with it: and about these matters is this song made:—

In days long gone Sent Atli to Gunnar A crafty one riding, Knefrud men called him; To Giuki's garth came he, To the hall of Gunnar, To the benches gay-dight, And the gladsome drinking.

There drank the great folk 'Mid the guileful one's silence, Drank wine in their fair hall: The Huns' wrath they feared When Knefrud cried In his cold voice, As he sat on the high seat, That man of the Southland:

"Atli has sent me Riding swift on his errands On the bit-griping steed Through dark woodways unbeaten, To bid thee, King Gunnar, Come to his fair bench With helm well-adorned, To the house of King Atli.

"Shield shall ye have there And spears ashen-shafted, Helms ruddy with gold, And hosts of the Huns; Saddle-gear silver gilt, Shirts red as blood, The hedge of the warwife, And horses bit-griping.

"And he saith he will give you Gnitaheath widespread, And whistling spears And prows well-gilded, Might wealth With the stead of Danpi, And that noble wood Men name the Murkwood."

Then Gunnar turned head And spake unto Hogni: "What rede from thee, high one, Since such things we hear? No gold know I On Gnitaheath, That we for our parts Have not portion as great.

"Seven halls we have Fulfilled of swords, And hilts of gold Each sword there has; My horse is the best, My blade is the keenest; Fair my bow o'er the bench is, Gleams my byrny with gold; Brightest helm, brightest shield, From Kiar's dwelling ere brought— Better all things I have Than all things of the Huns."

HOGNI SAID: "What mind has our sister That a ring she hath sent us In weed of wolves clad? Bids she not to be wary? For a wolf's hair I found The fair ring wreathed about; Wolf beset shall the way be If we wend on this errand."

No sons whetted Gunnar, Nor none of his kin, Nor learned men nor wise men, Nor such as were mighty. Then spake Gunnar E'en as a king should speak, Glorious in mead-hall From great heart and high:

"Rise up now, Fiornir, Forth down the benches Let the gold-cups of great ones Pass in hands of my good-men! Well shall we drink wine, Draughts dear to our hearts, Though the last of all feasts In our fair house this be!

"For the wolves shall rule O'er the wealth of the Niblungs, With the pine-woods' wardens In Gunnar perish: And the black-felled bears With fierce teeth shall bite For the glee of the dog kind, If again comes not Gunnar."

Then good men never shamed, Greeting aloud, Led the great king of men From the garth of his home; And cried the fair son Of Hogni the king: "Fare happy, O Lords, Whereso your hearts lead you!"

Then the bold knights Let their bit-griping steeds Wend swift o'er the fells, Tread the murk-wood unknown, All the Hunwood was shaking As the hardy ones fared there; O'er the green meads they urged Their steeds shy of the goad.

Then Atli's land saw they; Great towers and strong, And the bold men of Bikki, Aloft on the burg: The Southland folks' hall Set with benches about, Dight with bucklers well bounden, And bright white shining shields.

There drank Atli, The awful Hun king, Wine in his fair hall; Without were the warders, Gunnar's folk to have heed of, Lest they had fared thither With the whistling spear War to wake 'gainst the king.

But first came their sister As they came to the hall, Both her brethren she met, With beer little gladdened: "Bewrayed art thou, Gunnar! What dost thou great king To deal war to the Huns? Go thou swift from the hall!

Better, brother, hadst thou Fared here in thy byrny Than with helm gaily dight Looked on Atli's great house: Them hadst sat then in saddle Through days bright with the sun Fight to awaken And fair fields to redden:

"O'er the folk fate makes pale Should the Norn's tears have fallen, The shield mays of the Huns Should have known of all sorrow; And King Atli himself To worm-close should be brought; But now is the worm-close Kept but for thee."

Then spake Gunnar Great 'mid the people: "Over-late sister The Niblungs to summon; A long way to seek The helping of warriors, The high lord unshamed, From the hills of the Rhine!"

..............

Seven Hogni beat down With his sword sharp-grinded, And the eighth man he thrust Amidst of the fire. Ever so shall famed warrior Fight with his foemen, As Hogni fought For the hand of Gunnar.

But on Gunnar they fell, And set him in fetters, And bound hard and fast That friend of Burgundians; Then the warrior they asked If he would buy life, But life with gold That king of the Goths.

Nobly spake Gunnar, Great lord of the Niblungs; "Hogni's bleeding heart first Shall lie in mine hand, Cut from the breast Of the bold-riding lord, With bitter-sharp knife From the son of the king."

With guile the great one Would they beguile, On the wailing thrall Laid they hand unwares, And cut the heart From out of Hjalli, Laid it bleeding on trencher And bare it to Gunnar.

"Here have I the heart Of Hjalli the trembler, Little like the heart Of Hogni the hardy: As much as it trembleth Laid on the trencher By the half more it trembled In the breast of him hidden."

Then laughed Hogni When they cut the heart from him, From the crest-smith yet quick, Little thought he to quail. The hard acorn of thought From the high king they took, Laid it bleeding on trencher And bare it Gunnar.

"Here have I the heart Of Hogni the hardy, Little like to the heart Of Hjalli the trembler. Howso little it quaketh Laid here on the dish, Yet far less it quaked In the breast of him laid.

"So far mayst thou bide From men's eyen, O Atli, As from that treasure Thou shalt abide!

"Behold in my heart Is hidden for ever That hoard of the Niblungs, Now Hogni is dead. Doubt threw me two ways While the twain of us lived, But all that is gone Now I live on alone.

"The great Rhine shall rule O'er the hate-raising treasure, That gold of the Niblungs, The seed of the gods: In the weltering water Shall that wealth lie a-gleaming, Or it shine on the hands Of the children of Huns!"

Then cried Atli, King of the Hun-folk, "Drive forth your wains now The slave is fast bounden." And straightly thence The bit-shaking steeds Drew the hoard-warden, The war-god to his death.

Atli the great king, Rode upon Glaum, With shields set round about, And sharp thorns of battle: Gudrun, bound by wedlock To these, victory made gods of, Held back her tears As the hall she ran into.

"Let it fare with thee, Atli, E'en after thine oaths sworn To Gunnar fell often; Yea, oaths sworn of old time, By the sun sloping southward, By the high burg of Sigry, By the fair bed of rest, By the red ring of Ull!"

Now a host of men Cast the high king alive Into a close Crept o'er within With most foul worms, Fulfilled of all venom, Ready grave to dig In his doughty heart.

Wrathful-hearted he smote The harp with his hand, Gunnar laid there alone; And loud rang the strings.— In such wise ever Should hardy ring-scatterer Keep gold from all folk In the garth of his foeman.

Then Atli would wend About his wide land, On his steed brazen shod, Back from the murder. Din there was in the garth, All thronged with the horses; High the weapon-song rose From men come from the heath.

Out then went Gudrun, 'Gainst Atli returning, With a cup gilded over, To greet the land's ruler; "Come, then, and take it, King glad in thine hall, From Gudrun's hands, For the hell-farers groan not!"

Clashed the beakers of Atli, Wine-laden on bench, As in hall there a-gathered, The Huns fell a-talking, And the long-bearded eager ones Entered therein, From a murk den new-come, From the murder of Gunnar.

Then hastened the sweet-faced Delight of the shield-folk, Bright in the fair hall, Wine to bear to them: The dreadful woman Gave dainties withal To the lords pale with fate, Laid strange word upon Atli:

"The hearts of thy sons Hast thou eaten, sword-dealer, All bloody with death And drenched with honey: In most heavy mood Brood o'er venison of men! Drink rich draughts therewith, Down the high benches send it!

"Never callest thou now From henceforth to thy knee Fair Erp or fair Eiril, Bright-faced with the drink; Never seest thou them now Amidmost the seat, Scattering the gold, Or shafting of spears; Manes trimming duly, Or driving steeds forth!"

Din arose from the benches, Dread song of men was there, Noise 'mid the fair hangings, As all Hun's children wept; All saving Gudrun, Who never gat greeting, For her brethren bear-hardy For her sweet sons and bright, The young ones, the simple Once gotten with Atli.

...............

The seed of gold Sowed the swan-bright woman, Rings of red gold She gave to the house-carls; Fate let she wax, Let the bright gold flow forth, In naught spared that woman The store-houses' wealth.

Atli unaware Was a-weary with drink; No weapon had he, No heeding of Gudrun— Ah, the pity would be better, When in soft wise they twain Would full often embrace Before the great lords!

To the bed with sword-point Blood gave she to drink With a hand fain of death, And she let the dogs loose: Then in from the hall-door— —Up waked the house-carls— Hot brands she cast, Gat revenge for her brethren.

To the flame gave she all Who therein might be found; Fell adown the old timbers, Reeked all treasure-houses; There the shield-mays were burnt, Their lives' span brought to naught; In the fierce fire sank down All the stead of the Budlungs.

Wide told of is this— Ne'er sithence in the world, Thus fared bride clad in byrny For her brothers' avenging; For behold, this fair woman To three kings of the people, Hath brought very death Or ever she died!



THE WHETTING OF GUDRUN.

Gudrun went down unto the sea whenas she had slain Atli, and she cast herself therein, for she was fain to end her life: but nowise might she drown. She drave over the firths to the land of King Jonakr, and he wedded her, and their sons were Sorli, and Erp, and Hamdir, and there was Swanhild, Sigurd's daughter, nourished: and she was given to Jormunrek the Mighty. Now Bikki was a man of his, and gave such counsel to Randver, the king's son, as that he should take her; and with that counsel were the young folk well content.

Then Bikki told the king, and the king let hang Randver, but bade Swanhild be trodden under horses' feet. But when Gudrun heard thereof, she spake to her sons—

Words of strife heard I, Huger than any, Woeful words spoken, Sprung from all sorrow, When Gudrun fierce-hearted With the grimmest of words Whetter her sons Unto the slaying.

"Why are ye sitting here? Why sleep ye life away? Why doth it grieve you nought? Glad words to speak, Now when your sister— Young of years was she— Has Jormunrek trodden With the treading of horses?—

"Black horses and white In the highway of warriors; Grey horses that know The roads of the Goths.—

"Little like are ye grown To that Gunnar of old days! Nought are your hearts As the heart of Hogni! Well would ye seek Vengeance to win If your mood were in aught As the mood of my brethren, Or the hardy hearts Of the Kings of the Huns!"

Then spake Hamdir, The high-hearted— "Little didst thou Praise Hogni's doings, When Sigurd woke From out of sleep, And the blue-white bed-gear Upon thy bed Grew red with man's blood— With the blood of thy mate!

"Too baleful vengeance Wroughtest thou for thy brethren Most sore and evil When thy sons thou slewedst, Else all we together On Jormunrek Had wrought sore vengeance For that our sister.

"Come, bring forth quickly The Hun kings' bright gear, Since thou has urged us Unto the sword-Thing!"

Laughing went Gudrun To the bower of good gear, Kings' crested helms From chests she drew, And wide-wrought byrnies Bore to her sons: Then on their horses Load laid the heroes.

Then spake Hamdir, The high-hearted— "Never cometh again His mother to see The spear-god laid low In the land of the Goths. That one arvel mayst thou For all of us drink, For sister Swanhild, And us thy sons."

Greeted Gudrun Giuki's daughter; Sorrowing she went In the forecourt to sit, That she might tell, With cheeks tear-furrowed, Her weary wail In many a wise.

"Three fires I knew, Three hearths I knew, To three husbands' houses Have I been carried; And better than all Had been Sigurd alone, He whom my brethren Brought to his bane.

"Such sore grief as that Methought never should be, Yet more indeed Was left for my torment Then, when the great ones Gave me to Atli.

"My fair bright boys I bade unto speech, Nor yet might I win Weregild for my bale, Ere I had hewn off Those Niblungs' heads.

"To the sea-strand I went With the Norns sorely wroth, For I would thrust from me The storm of their torment; But the high billows Would not drown, but bore me Forth, till I stepped a-land Longer to live.

"Then I went a-bed— —Ah, better in the old days, This was the third time!— To a king of the people; Offspring I brought forth, Props of a fair house, Props of a fair house, Jonakr's fair sons.

"But around Swanhild Bond-maidens sat, Her, that of all mine Most to my heart was; Such was my Swanhild, In my hall's midmost, As is the sunbeam Fair to beheld.

"In gold I arrayed her, And goodly raiment, Or ever I gave her To the folk of the Goths. That was the hardest Of my heavy woes, When the bright hair,— O the bright hair of Swanhild!— In the mire was trodden By the treading of horses.

"This was the sorest, When my love, my Sigurd, Reft of glory In his bed gat ending: But this the grimmest When glittering worms Tore their way Through the heart of Gunnar.

"But this the keenest When they cut to the quick Of the hardy heart Of the unfeared Hogni. Of much of bale I mind me, Of many griefs I mind me; Why should I sit abiding Yet more bale and more?

"Thy coal-black horse, O Sigurd, bridle, The swift on the highway! O let him speed hither! Here sitteth no longer Son or daughter, More good gifts To give to Gudrun!

"Mindst thou not, Sigurd, Of the speech betwixt us, When on one bed We both sat together, O my great king— That thou wouldst come to me E'en from the hall of Hell, I to thee from the fair earth?

"Pile high, O earls The oaken pile, Let it be the highest That ever queen had! Let the fire burn swift, My breast with woe laden, And thaw all my heart, Hard, heavy with sorrow!"

Now may all earls Be bettered in mind, May the grief of all maidens Ever be minished, For this tale of sorrow So told to its ending.



THE LAY OF HAMDIR

Great deeds of bale In the garth began, At the sad dawning The tide of Elves' sorrow When day is a-waxing And man's grief awaketh, And the sorrow of each one The early day quickeneth.

Not now, not now, Nor yesterday, But long ago Has that day worn by, That ancientest time, The first time to tell of, Then, whenas Gudrun, Born of Giuki, Whetter her sons To Swanhild's avenging.

"Your sister's name Was naught but Swanhild, Whom Jormunrek With horses has trodden!— White horses and black On the war-beaten way, Grey horses that go On the roads of the Goths.

"All alone am I now As in holt is the aspen; As the fir-tree of boughs, So of kin am I bare; As bare of things longed for As the willow of leaves When the bough-breaking wind The warm day endeth.

"Few, sad, are ye left O kings of my folk! Yet alone living Last shreds of my kin!

"Ah, naught are ye grown As that Gunnar of old days; Naught are your hearts As the heart of Hogni! Well would ye seek Vengeance to win If your hearts were in aught As the hearts of my brethren!"

Then spake Hamdir The high-hearted: "Nought hadst thou to praise The doings of Hogni, When they woke up Sigurd From out of slumber, And in bed thou sat'st up 'Mid the banes-men's laughter.

"Then when thy bed=gear, Blue-white, well woven By art of craftsmen All swam with thy king's blood; The Sigurd died, O'er his dead corpse thou sattest, Not heeding aught gladsome, Since Gunnar so willed it.

"Great grief for Atli Gatst thou by Erp's murder, And the end of thine Eitil, But worse grief for thyself. Good to use sword For the slaying of others In such wise that its edge Shall not turn on ourselves!"

Then well spake Sorli From a heart full of wisdom: "No words will I Make with my mother, Though both ye twain Need words belike— What askest thou, Gudrun, To let thee go greeting?

"Weep for thy brethren, Weep for thy sweet sons, And thy nighest kinsfolk Laid by the fight-side! Yea, and thou Gudrun, May'st greet for us twain Sitting fey on our steeds Doomed in far lands to die."

From the garth forth they went With hearts full of fury, Sorli and Hamdir, The sons of Gudrun, And they met on the way The wise in all wiles: "And thou little Erp, What helping from thee?"

He of alien womb Spake out in such wise: "Good help for my kin, Such as foot gives to foot, Or flesh-covered hand Gives unto hand!"

"What helping for foot That help that foot giveth, Or for flesh-covered hand The helping of hand?"

Then spake Erp Yet once again Mock spake the prince As he sat on his steed: "Fool's deed to show The way to a dastard!" "Bold beyond measure," Quoth they, "is the base-born!"

Out from the sheath Drew they the sheath-steel, And the glaives' edges played For the pleasure of hell; By the third part they minished The might that they had, Their young kin they let lie A-cold on the earth.

Then their fur-cloaks they shook And bound fast their swords, In webs goodly woven Those great ones were clad; Young they went o'er the fells Where the dew was new-fallen Swift, on steeds of the Huns, Heavy vengeance to wreak.

Forth stretched the ways, And an ill way they found, Yea, their sister's son (1) Hanging slain upon tree— Wolf-trees by the wind made cold At the town's westward Loud with cranes' clatter— Ill abiding there long!

Din in the king's hall Of men merry with drink, And none might hearken The horses' tramping Or ever the warders Their great horn winded.

Then men went forth To Jormunrek To tell of the heeding Of men under helm: "Give ye good counsel! Great ones are come hither, For the wrong of men mighty Was the may to death trodden."

"Loud Jormunrek laughed, And laid hand to his beard, Nor bade bring his byrny, But with the wine fighting, Shook his red locks, On his white shield sat staring, And in his hand Swung the gold cup on high.

"Sweet sight for me Those twain to set eyes on, Sorli and Hamdir, Here in my hall! Then with bowstrings Would I bind them, And hang the good Giukings Aloft on the gallows!"

..............

Then spake Hrothglod From off the high steps, Spake the slim-fingered Unto her son,— —For a threat was cast forth Of what ne'er should fall— "Shall two men alone Two hundred Gothfolk Bind or bear down In the midst of their burg?"

...............

Strife and din in the hall, Cups smitten asunder Men lay low in blood From the breasts of Goths flowing.

Then spake Hamdir, The high-hearted: "Thou cravedst, O king, From the coming of us, The sons of one mother, Amidmost thine hall— Look on these hands of thine, Look on these feet of thine, Cast by us, Jormunrek, On to the flame!"

Then cried aloud The high Gods' kinsman (2) Bold under byrny,— Roared he as bears roar; "Stones to the stout ones That the spears bite not, Nor the edges of steel, These sons of Jonakr!"

..............

QUOTH SORLI: "Bale, brother, wroughtst thou By that bag's (3) opening, Oft from that bag Rede of bale cometh! Heart hast thou, Hamdir, If thou hadst heart's wisdom Great lack in a man Who lacks wisdom and lore!"

HAMDIR SAID: "Yes, off were the head If Erp were alive yet, Our brother the bold Whom we slew by the way; The far-famed through the world— Ah, the fares drave me on, And the man war made holy, There must I slay!"

SORLI SAID: "Unmeet we should do As the doings of wolves are, Raising wrong each 'gainst other As the dogs of the Norns, The greedy ones nourished In waste steads of the world.

In strong wise have we fought, On Goths' corpses we stand, Beat down by our edges, E'en as ernes on the bough. Great fame our might winneth, Die we now, or 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.

ENDNOTES: (1) Randver, the son of their sister's husband. (2) Odin, namely. (3) "Bag", his mouth.



THE LAMENT OF ODDRUN.

There was a king hight Heidrik, and his daughter was called Borgny, and the name of her lover was Vilmund. Now she might nowise be made lighter of a child she travailed with, before Oddrun, Atil's sister, came to her,—she who had been the love of Gunnar, Giuki's son. But of their speech together has this been sung:

I have hear tell In ancient tales How a may there came To Morna-land, Because no man On mould abiding For Heidrik's daughter Might win healing.

All that heard Oddrun, Atil's sister, How that the damsel Had heavy sickness, So she led from stall Her bridled steed, And on the swart one Laid the saddle.

She made her horse wend O'er smooth ways of earth, Until to a high-built Hall she came; Then the saddle she had From the hungry horse, And her ways wended In along the wide hall, And this word first Spake forth therewith:

"What is most famed, Afield in Hunland, Or what may be Blithest in Hunland?"

QUOTH THE HANDMAID: "Here lieth Borgny, Borne down by trouble, Thy sweet friend, O Oddrun, See to her helping!"

ODDRUN SAID: "Who of the lords Hath laid this grief on her, Why is the anguish Of Borgny so weary?"

THE HANDMAID SAID: "He is hight Vilmund, Friend of hawk-bearers, He wrapped the damsel In the warm bed-gear Five winters long Without her father's wotting."

No more than this They spake methinks; Kind sat she down By the damsel's knee; Mightily sand Oddrun, Sharp piercing songs By Borgny's side:

Till a maid and a boy Might tread on the world's ways, Blithe babes and sweet Of Hogni's bane: Then the damsel forewearied The word took up, The first word of all That had won from her:

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Such were the last words That ever he spake, The king forewearied, Ere his ways he went; For 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 should have loved him. Rings of red gold Would they give to Atli, Would give to my brother Things goodly and great.

"Yea, fifteen steads Would they give for me, And the load of Grani To have as a gift; But then spake Atli, That such was his will, Never gift to take From the sons of Giuki.

"But we in nowise Might love withstand, And mine head must I lay On my love, the ring-breaker; And many there were Among my kin, Who said that they Had seen us together.

"Then Atli said That I surely never Would fall to crime Or shameful folly: But now let no one For any other, That shame deny Where love has dealing.

"For Atli sent His serving-folk Wide through the murkwood Proof to win of me, And thither they came Where they ne'er should have come, Where one bed we twain Had dight betwixt us.

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

'Whereas from Gudrun Well they hid it, Though better by half Had she have known it.

................

"Din was there to hear Of the hoofs gold-shod, When into the garth Rode the sons of Giuki.

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

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

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

Then came the wretch (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."

ENDNOTES: (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.