Introduction and bibliographical details of original publication in Comparative Criticism 18
©
copyright Thor Ewing 1994, 2003
Thor
Ewing
asserts his right to be identified as author of this translation.
Atli has sent
a herald to
Gunnar's,
cunning he
came riding
– Knefrod was his name –
to the
courts of Giuki,
and to Gunnar's hall,
the
benches hearth-grouped,
and the beer so sweet.
Henchmen drank
there –
but hidden their thoughts –
wine in
the Rome-hall
– wary of Hun-wrath.
Then
Knefrod called,
cold was his voice,
the
southern warrior
– he sat in the high-seat:
Atli has sent
me on errand
riding,
on mount
bit-clenching,
through Mirkwood unknown,
to bid you
both,
Gunnar, to come to the benches
the
helmets hearth-grouped,
to see the home of Atli;
Shields you
shall choose
there, and shaven spears,
helmets
all gilded, a
Hunnish war-band,
silver-worked
saddle-cloths,
Rome-red smocks,
banners
dancing, and
bit-clenching steeds;
And he'll give
you the
plain of Gnita-heath, he said,
of
shrieking spears,
and ship-prows gilded,
hoards of
treasure, and
homesteads on the Dnieper,
the forest
that men
call Mirkwood the famous.
Then Gunnar
turned his
head, he glanced at Hogni:
What bid
you, brother,
about this offer?
Gold I
knew none on
Gnita-heath,
but we did
not own an
equal treasure;
We have seven
store-halls
stacked with longswords,
the grip
of each is
gold entwined;
my steed I
think best,
my sword the keenest,
my bows
beauteous, and
byrnies golden,
helm and
shield the
brightest brought from the hall of Caesar;
each of
mine is better
than all those of the Huns!
Hogni
:
What can
our sister
have meant, when she sent us a ring
twined in
a tress of
the heath-goer; I think she was trying to warn us.
I found
the heath-goer's
hair hidden in the ring so red;
wolfish
our road, if we
ride on this errand.
No kinsman
urged Gunnar,
nor cousin by birth
henchman
nor hearthman,
nor high-born noble,
then
Gunnar spoke, as
befits a king,
glorious
in the
meadhall, mighty in spirit:
Arise now
Fiornir, send
round the benches
the golden
wine-cups in
warriors' hands.
lest we
never meet in
the hall again,
sharing
gold, glad by
the hearth.
The wolf will
rule the
right of the Niflungs,
the
grizzled packs, if
Gunnar is lost,
bears
black-coated will
bite harsh-toothed,
make game
with the
bitch-pack if Gunnar should fall.
They brought
their lord,
the unbroken folk,
weeping,
led the war-keen,
from the walls of their cubs.
Then
young, he spoke,
the heir of Hogni:
Go safe
now and wise
where your spirits take you!
Bold they made
hooves to
run on the hills,
on mounts
bit-clenching,
through Mirkwood unknown –
all
Hunmark shuddered
as the harsh ones passed –
they drove
them, whip-shy,
through dales all green.
They saw
Atli's lands, and
lofty watch-towers,
the
warriors of Buthli,
on the walls so high
the hall
of the
southerners with seats of wood,
rim-bound
shields and
shining targes,
banners
dancing; there
Atli was drinking
wine in
the Rome-hall;
there were watchmen outside
to wait
for Gunnar,
lest they wished to visit
with
shrieking spear,
to stir the prince to strife.
Their sister
knew first
they'd set foot in the hall
both of
her brothers
– beer had not dulled her:
You are
lost now,
Gunnar, what, lord, will you do
now the
Huns have
betrayed you? from this hall go with speed!
It had been
better,
brother, had you brought your armour
and
helmets hearth-grouped
to see the home of Atli;
you'd have
sat in the
saddle through sun-bright days
at
death-pale bodies
made the Norns to weep,
the
shieldmaids of the
Huns to shoulder the harrow,
but Atli
himself you'd
have led to the snake-pit;
now that
same snake-pit
is set for you!
It is late
now, sister, to
summon the Niflungs;
it's a
long way to look
for the loyal men
from Worms
on the
Rhine, the valiant fighters.
They seized
Gunnar, and set
him in fetters –
the lord
of Burgundy
– and bound him fast.
Hogni slew
seven with his
sword so keen
but the
eighth of his
foes he hurled in the fire so hot
thus do
the fearless
fight their enemies;
Hogni
defended; he
struck with his hand.
They asked the
warrior if
he wished for his life,
the prince
of Goths, to
pay in gold.
Gunnar
:
The heart
of Hogni must
lie in my hand,
bleeding
from the
breast of the prince-rider cut
with
cruel-biting knife
from the son of the king.
They cut the
heart from
Hialli's breast,
bore it
in, bleeding,
and brought it to Gunnar.
Then Gunnar
spoke, the lord
of men:
Here is
the heart of
Hialli the coward;
unlike the
heart of
Hogni the brave,
it
trembles a lot as it
lies on the platter;
it
trembled yet more
when it lay in his breast.
Then Hogni
laughed as they
cut at his heart –
the
scar-smith still
living – he was far from screaming.
They bore
it in
bleeding and brought it to Gunnar.
Then Gunnar
spoke, glorious
spear-Niflung:
Here is
the heart of
Hogni the brave;
unlike the
heart of
Hialli the coward,
it
trembles little as
it lies on the platter;
it
trembled still less
when it lay in his breast.
As far, Atli,
from the eyes
of men
as from my
treasure you
shall be!
with me
alone all is
hidden
the hoard
of the
Niflungs – Hogni is no more;
There
always was doubt
while each of us lived
now there
is none
– there is no one but me.
The Rhine
shall rule the
royal strife-metal,
the
god-risen river
take the right of the Niflungs;
in gushing
waters let
the Rome-gold glint,
but not
shine on the
hands of the children of Huns.
Roll out the cart; now the captive is bound.
Atli the
mighty rode a
steed jangle-maned,
with
battle-thorns
about him, their brother-in-law;
Gudrun,
sister of those
victory-gods,
held back
from tears,
broken in the din-hall:
It will go
with you, Atli,
as with Gunnar you pledged,
oaths
often sworn, and
taken of old,
by the
south-rising
sun, and by Sigtyr's hill
by the
rest-bed's
mount, and the ring of Ullur.
And on from
there the
treasure-keeper
the
bridle-deck drew,
the battle-prince, to death.
The prince
still living
they laid in a pit,
that
crawling was, that
crowd of men,
with
snakes inside. But
alone then Gunnar
struck the
harp, with
strife-bent hand;
the
strings were
sounded. Thus does the strong one
withhold
his riches,
the ring-giver, from men!
Atli left for
his lands
again
on
sharp-eared horse,
home from the murder.
There was
clamour in
the courtyard, clattering of horses,
the
weapon-song of
warriors come back from the heath.
Out came
Gudrun, to greet
Atli,
with
gilded goblet to
give him his due:
You may
eat, my lord,
glad in your hall
served by
Gudrun with
shadow-gone sucklings.
Atli's
ale-cups clinked
wine-heavy,
when
together in the
hall, the Huns were numbered;
long-whiskered
lords
and keen walked in.
Bright-faced
then she
dashed to fetch them drink,
wild among
the
warriors, and found them beer-snacks,
driven
among the
drunken and spoke shame of Atli:
Your own two
sons, giver of
swords,
their
hearts corpse-dripping
you have chewed with honey.
Proud, you
can stomach,
the slain flesh of men,
eaten as
beer-snacks,
called to the benches.
You'll never
call them to
your knee again
Erpur nor
Eitil, the
ale-merry pair;
you'll
never see them
on the settle again,
the
sharers of gold,
shafting spears,
trimming
manes, nor
goading horses.
A wail rose
from the
benches, a wild song of men,
a howl
beneath goodly
weavings; the Huns were weeping
but for
Gudrun alone,
for she never wept
for her
bear-harsh
brothers nor her boys so sweet,
young,
untried, whom
she got with Atli.
She scattered
gold, the
goose-bright woman,
with rings
all red she
enriched the servants
she let
fate grow and
bright gold flow
she never
heeded the
hoards of the temple.
Unwary Atli
– he had
drunk himself weary;
weapons he
had none; he
didn't shrink from Gudrun;
yet the
sport had been
better, when they both would often
and fondly
embrace
before the nobles.
The bedding,
by blade, she
gave blood to drink
with
death-bent hand
– and loosed the dogs –
she hurled
at the hall-door
– and woke the house-thralls –
a
fire-brand, that
woman, in flame; she felt that paid for her brothers.
She gave all
to the fire
who were then within
and from
the murder of
Gunnar in Mirkland had come.
Old
timbers fell, the
temples were smoking,
the hall
of the
Buthlungs – and shieldmaids were burnt;
inside,
life-choked,
they sank in the fire so hot.
NOTES:
Rome-hall – vál-höll normally refers to Odin’s hall, and is sometimes translated ‘Hall of the Slain’. Here, however, the alternative meaning of ‘foreign, Celtic, Roman’ seems more appropriate, though ther may also be a play on the former sense (see note on Sigtyr, below).
high-seat – the seat of honour. Knefrod is probably sitting opposite Gunnar and Hogni, across the hall.
Mirkwood – the vast uncharted forests that once covered much of Europe.
Rome-red – see note on Rome-hall above. ‘Blood-red’ is a possible translation, but I take ‘Rome-red’ to refer to imported cloth, like the ‘Rome-cloth’ of The Brynhild Lay.
Gnita-heath – the heath where Sigurd killed the serpent Fafnir, and took the gold which Atli wants from Gunnar.
heath-goer – a kenning for ‘wolf’, symbol of treachery.
lest we never . . . glad by the hearth – supplied from the prose paraphrase in Völsunga saga.
The wolf will rule . . . if Gunnar should fall – Gunnar is speaking metaphorically: ‘The wolf’ is perhaps Atli himself; the ‘bears black-coated’ are the black-haired Niflungs, Gunnar and Hogni; ‘the bitch-pack’ refers to the Huns (to refer to a manas a female animal was counted among the worst insults in Norse law, and was accepted as provocation for killing, but Gunnar’s insults are veiled since Knefrod is present; the Huns and Atli are never named and a literal reading remains possible). ‘The right of the Niflungs’ is of course the gold, theirs by right since they murdered Sigurd.
Buthli – Buthli is Atli’s father. The manuscript reads ‘Bikki’, but this must be a slip; Bikki is Iormunrek’s wicked henchman.
Norns – the Norse ‘Fates’.
shieldmaids – warrior maidens.
Worms on the Rhine – rosmofiall rinar ; this phrase seems to preserve a memory of the ancient Burgundian capital at Worms, lost after the death of Gundaharius (Gunnar).
Goths – here meaning simply ‘men’, perhaps as distinct from the Huns.
As far, Atli, from the eyes of men . . . – Gunnar mocks Atli for having failed to win the treasure and predicts that Atli will die and be ‘far from the eyes of men’.
battle-thorns – a kenning for ‘swords’, and thus by extension, swordsmen.
Sigtyr – literally ‘Victory God’, that is Odin. In the verse before, Gunnar and Hogni are called sig-tivar, ‘victory gods’.
Ullur – the bowman god. An oath sworn on a holy ring seems to have been particularly powerful.
the treasure-keeper – Gunnar; an unusual kenning for prince, playing on the more common ‘ring-giver’. Generosity is usually admired, but Gunnar has rightly cheated the Huns of his gold.
bridle-deck – a kenning for ‘cart’.
ring-giver – a conventional kenning for prince, here juxtaposed with Gunnar ‘withholding his riches’.
she never wept – Gudrun’s inability to weep is famous, and is made play of in ‘The Hamthir Poem’.
Buthlungs – the people of Buthli; Atli and the Huns.
Translated from the Old Norse poem Atlakviða.
Introduction and bibliographical details of original publication in Comparative Criticism 18
'The Hamthir Poem' translated by Thor Ewing
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