Völsunga Saga/The Lay of Hamdir
THE LAY OF HAMDIR.
Great deeds of baleIn the garth began,At the sad dawningThe tide of Elves’ sorrowWhen day is a-waxingAnd man’s grief awaketh,And the sorrow of each oneThe early day quickeneth.
Not now, not now,Nor yesterday,But long agoHas that day worn by,That ancientest time,The first time to tell of,Then, whenas Gudrun,Born of Giuki,Whetted her sonsTo Swanhild’s avenging.
“Your sister’s nameWas naught but Swanhild, Whom JormunrekWith horses has trodden!—White horses and blackOn the war-beaten way,Grey horses that goOn the roads of the Goths.
“All alone am I nowAs in holt is the aspen;As the fir-tree of boughs,So of kin am I bare;As bare of things longed forAs the willow of leavesWhen the bough-breaking windThe warm day endeth.
“Few, sad, are ye left,O kings of my folk!Yet alone livingLast shreds of my kin!
“Ah, naught are ye grownAs that Gunnar of old days;Naught are your heartsAs the heart of Hogni!Well would ye seekVengeance to winIf your hearts were in aughtAs the hearts of my brethren!”
Then spake HamdirThe high-hearted: “Nought hadst thou to praiseThe doings of Hogni,When they woke up SigurdFrom out of slumber,And in bed thou sat’st up’Mid the banes-men’s laughter.
“Then when thy bed-gear,Blue-white, well wovenBy art of craftsmenAll swam with thy king’s blood;Then Sigurd died,O’er his dead corpse thou sattest,Not heeding aught gladsome,Since Gunnar so willed it.
“Great grief for AtliGatst thou by Erp’s murder,And the end of thine Eitil,But worse grief for thyself.Good to use swordFor the slaying of othersIn such wise that its edgeShall not turn on ourselves!”
Then well spake SorliFrom a heart full of wisdom:“No words will IMake with my mother,Though both ye twainNeed words belike— What askest thou, Gudrun,To let thee go greeting?
“Weep for thy brethren,Weep for thy sweet sons,And thy nighest kinsfolkLaid by the fight-side!Yea, and thou Gudrun,May’st greet for us twainSitting fey on our steedsDoomed in far lands to die.”
From the garth forth they wentWith hearts full of fury,Sorli and Hamdir,The sons of Gudrun,And they met on the wayThe wise in all wiles:“And thou little Erp,What helping from thee?”
He of alien wombSpake out in such wise:“Good help for my kin,Such as foot gives to foot,Or flesh-covered handGives unto hand!”
“What helping for footThat help that foot giveth,Or for flesh-covered handThe helping of hand?” Then spake ErpYet once againMock spake the princeAs he sat on his steed:“Fool’s deed to showThe way to a dastard!”“Bold beyond measure,”Quoth they, “is the base-born!”
Out from the sheathDrew they the sheath-steel,And the glaives’ edges playedFor the pleasure of hell;By the third part they minishedThe might that they had,Their young kin they let lieA-cold on the earth.
Then their fur-cloaks they shookAnd bound fast their swords,In webs goodly wovenThose great ones were clad;Young they went o’er the fellsWhere the dew was new-fallenSwift, 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 coldAt the town’s westwardLoud with cranes’ clatter—Ill abiding there long!
Din in the king’s hallOf men merry with drink,And none might hearkenThe horses’ trampingOr ever the wardersTheir great horn winded.
Then men went forthTo JormunrekTo tell of the heedingOf men under helm:“Give ye good counsel!Great ones are come hither,For the wrong of men mightyWas 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 handSwung the gold cup on high.
“Sweet sight for meThose twain to set eyes on, Sorli and Hamdir,Here in my hall!Then with bowstringsWould I bind them,And hang the good GiukingsAloft on the gallows!”••••••••••••
Then spake HrothglodFrom off the high steps,Spake the slim-fingeredUnto her son,——For a threat was cast forthOf what ne’er should fall—“Shall two men aloneTwo hundred GothfolkBind or bear downIn the midst of their burg?”••••••••
Strife and din in the hall,Cups smitten asunderMen lay low in bloodFrom the breasts of Goths flowing.
Then spake Hamdir,The high-hearted:“Thou cravedst, O king,For 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 aloudThe high Gods’ kinsman,[2]Bold under byrny,—Roared he as bears roar;“Stones to the stout onesThat the spears bite not,Nor the edges of steel,These sons of Jonakr!”••••••••
Quoth Sorli.
“Bale, brother, wroughtst thouBy that bag’s[3] opening,Oft from that bagRede of bale cometh!Heart hast thou, Hamdir,If thou hadst heart’s wisdomGreat lack in a manWho lacks wisdom and lore!”
Hamdir said.
“Yea, off were the headIf Erp were alive yet, Our brother the boldWhom we slew by the way;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 As the doings of wolves are,Raising wrong each ’gainst other As the dogs of the Norns, The greedy ones nourishedIn 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 eveWhom the fates doom at morning.”At the hall’s gable-endFell Sorli to earth,But Hamdir lay lowAt the back of the houses.
Now this is called the Ancient Lay of Hamdir.