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.
It was not
now, nor
yesterday,
great is
the age that
has gone since then,
there is
little so old
that this was not twice so,
when
Gudrun goaded,
Giuki's child,
her sons
so young to
Swanhild's vengeance:
Why do you sit
there? why
sleep out your lives?
why do you
not grieve
to speak of gladness?
Down you
are crushed,
you kings of the folk,
you live
on alone of
the strands of my line.
A sister you
had, Swanhild
by name;
Iormunrek
had her
trampled by horses
of white
and of black
on the warrior-road,
tame-stepping
greys,
steeds of the Goths;
You have not
grown to be
like Gunnar,
nor yet so
brave as
Hogni was -
Swiftly
would she have
been avenged,
if you
were as brave as
my brothers were,
or harsh
of heart as
the Hunnish kings.
Its then spoke
Hamthir, the
hard-witted:
You did
not, Gudrun,
praise Hogni's deeds,
when they
came on
Sigurd and woke him from sleep,
you sat on
the bed, but
the slayers laughed;
Your
bed-linen, blue-white
before,
deftly
woven, was
drenched in his blood.
There
Sigurd was slain;
you sat by the corpse,
you cared
not for
gladness - Gunnar caused that.
You thought to
harm Atli
with Erpur's murder
and
Eitil's passing -
it was worse for you;
so should
one wield the
wound-biting sword
to slay
another that it
hurts not oneself.
Its then spoke
Sorli, sound
was his mind:
I will not
waste more
words with mother;
a word
seems wanting to
each of you;
what now
bid you,
Gudrun, that will not bring you grief?
Bring forth
the treasures
of the Hunnish kings -
you have
set us on to
the swords' counsel.
Laughing
Gudrun has gone to
the store-hall,
the sign
of kings from
the coffer she took,
the broad
byrnies she
brought to her sons.
They shook
their cloaks,
they clasped on swords,
god-born
they dressed
in goodly weavings;
they went
from the
hall, wild with rage;
madly they
piled on the
backs of their mounts.
Its then spoke
Hamthir the
hard-witted:
Thus he
comes home to
his mother's hall
the
spear-Niord, fallen
among the Goths -
so you
will drink ale
for us at the wake,
for
Swanhild our
sister, and for us your sons.
Weep for your
brothers and
your boys so sweet,
close-born
kindred
called into strife;
for us as
well will you
weep, Gudrun;
here we
sit doomed on
our horses; we shall die far away.
Youthful, they
rode over
rainy fells,
on mounts
of Hunland,
murder to pay;
they met
on the
highway, the mighty schemer:
How could
this halfling
be of help to us?
Other-mothered,
he
answered, said that he'd offer
help to a
kinsman as a
foot to another.
How can a
foot be of
help to a foot,
or a
flesh-grown hand
to another hand?
Then Erpur
spoke a single
speech
proudly he
moved on the
back of his mount:
It is
wrong to show the
road to cowards.
Too bold,
they said,
the bastard was!
They drew from
the sheath
the sheath-metal,
the edge
of the sword,
the ogress' joy;
they broke
their
strength back by a third,
laid the
young lad low
to the earth.
The way lay
ahead, they
found the woe-paths,
and their
sister's son
speared on the beam,
the
wolf-tree wind-cold,
west of the halls,
the
ever-swinging bird-lure
- it was not good to stay.
Joy filled the
hall,
warriors ale-merry,
they did
not hear the
sound of horses,
till a
warrior heart-strong
winded his horn.
They went to
tell to
Iormunrek
they had
sighted
outside men under helmets:
Prepare
yourselves for
powerful they come,
you have
trampled the
sister of mighty princes.
Then Iormunrek
laughed, his
hand on his beard,
he worked
up fury, war-soaked
with wine,
he shook
his locks of
brown, looked at his shield of white,
he turned
in his hand
the cup of gold:
I'd hold
myself happy, if
here I could see
Hamthir
and Sorli
inside my hall;
those boys
I would bind
with the strings of bows;
the
god-born of Giuki
I'd fix to the gallows.
A woman,
strength-glad,
stood by the door,
small-fingered,
she
spoke to the sons in the hall:
For that
is to do which
cannot be done;
can two
men alone fight
ten-hundred Goths,
bind them
or beat them
in the stronghold high?
The hall was
astir, ale-cups
were smashed,
earls lay
in blood from
the breasts of the Goths.
Its then spoke
Hamthir, the
hard-witted:
You
yearned, Iormunrek,
for us to come,
brothers
one-mothered,
into your hall.
Your feet
you see, your
hands you see,
Iormunrek,
flung in the
fire so hot!
Then he
growled, that god-sprung
king,
bold in
his byrnie, as
a bear might growl:
Stone the
men as spears
won't bite them,
edges nor
iron, the
sons of Ionak.
Sorli
:
You did
evil, brother,
to open that bag;
from
bleeding bags
often come evil counsels.
Wit you'd
had, Hamthir,
had you been wise;
a man
lacks much when
its his mind!
Hamthir
:
His head
would be off
now, if Erpur were living,
our
battle-fierce
brother, whom we killed on the road,
the
strife-fierce
swordsman - the Disir spurred me -
the
war-hallowed
warrior - they urged me to strife.
Sorli
:
I don't
think to follow
the fashion of wolves
and go
against one
another
like the
hounds of the
Norns, that hungrily roam,
reared in
the wastes.
Well have we
fought; we
stand on fallen Goths,
over the
blade-weary
like eagles on a bough.
Great is
our fame;
should we die now or tomorrow
no one
sees out the
dusk after the Norns have spoken.
There Sorli
fell by the
hall's gable
but
Hamthir sank at the
back of the house.
NOTES:
spear-Niord – a kenning for man; Niord is one of the gods.
byrnie – mail-coat, hauberk.
the mighty schemer – Erpur, who is according to this poem the half-brother of Hamthir and Sorli, ‘other-mothered’.
wolf-tree – a kenning for the gallows.
A woman, strength-glad – Much debate has centred on this woman. Saxo says that the avengers were preceded by a sorceress who turned the Goths against one another, so clearing the way for the brothers to reach Iormunrek, and perhaps that was once the role of the ‘woman, strength-glad’, but a verse or a line has been lost, making her purpose obscure.
Stone the men . . . to open that bag – The brothers are protected against sharp weapons; according to the Prose Edda, this is due to their byrnies. It seems that only now can Iormunrek call his men to stone them. Hamthir has ‘opened the bag’, has allowed Iormunrek to speak by breaking silence himself. This points strongly towards magic, and further suggests that the ‘woman, strength-glad’ is Saxo’s sorceress.
disir – female spirits (sg. dis), perhaps the equivalent of the male elves.
the blade-weary – a kenning for ‘the dead’.
Translated from the Old Norse poems Hamðismál and Guðrúnarhvöt.
Introduction and bibliographical details of original publication in Comparative Criticism 18
'The Atli Lay' translated by Thor Ewing
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