The Story of the Volsungs (Volsunga Saga), with Excerpts from the Poetic Edda.Part 5 out of 5
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 be 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.
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