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With ill reward Deep dyed within.
Hast thou rewarded
His heart so fain Thus this song telleth of the death of Sigurd, and setteth forth
To be the foremost! how that they slew him without doors; but some say that
they slew him within doors, sleeping in his bed. But the Dutch
 As well was seen Folk say that they slew him out in the wood: and so sayeth
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The Volsunga Saga
the ancient song of Gudrun, that Sigurd and the sons of Giuki THE SECOND OR ANCIENT LAY OF
were riding to the Thing whenas he was slain. But all with GUDRUN
one accord say that they bewrayed him in their troth with
him, and fell on him as he lay unarrayed and unawares. Thiodrek the King was in Atli s house, and had lost there the
more part of his men: so there Thiodrek and Gudrun be-
wailed 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,
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The Volsunga Saga
Or a hart high-limbed
Over hurrying deer, Then greeting I went
Or glede-red gold
With Grani to talk,
Over grey silver.
And with tear-furrowed cheeks
I bade him tell all;
Till me they begrudged,
But drooping laid Grani,
Those my brethren,
His head in the grass,
The fate to have him,
For the steed well wotted
Who was first of all men;
Of his master s slaying.
Nor might they sleep,
Nor sit a-dooming,
A long while I wandered,
Ere they let slay
Long my mind wavered,
My well-loved Sigurd.
Ere the kings I might ask
Concerning my king.
Grani ran to the Thing,
There was clatter to hear,
Then Gunnar hung head,
But never came Sigurd
But Hogni told
Himself thereunto;
Of the cruel slaying
All the saddle-girt beasts
Of my Sigurd:
With blood were besprinkled,
 On the water s far side
As faint with the way
Lies, smitten to death,
Neath the slayers they went.
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The Volsunga Saga
The bane of Guttorm One thing Hogni
To the wolves given over. Had for answer,
Fallen from his high heart,
 Go, look on Sigurd, Full of all trouble:
On the ways that go southward,  More greeting yet,
There shalt thou hear O Gudrun, for thee,
The ernes high screaming, If my heart the ravens
The ravens a-croaking Should rend asunder!
As their meat they crave for;
Thou shalt hear the wolves howling Thence I turned
Over thine husband. From the talk and the trouble
To go a leasing (1)
 How hast thou, Hogni, What the wolves had left me;
The heart to tell me, No sigh I made
Me of joy made empty, No smote hands together,
Of such misery? Nor did I wail
Thy wretched heart As other women
May the ravens tear When I sat over
Wide over the world, My Sigurd slain.
With no men mayst thou wend.
(1) The original has  a vid lesa .  Leasing is the word still
used for gleaning in many country sides in England.
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The Volsunga Saga
Night methought it, With gold she wrought
And the moonless dark, Southland halls
When I sat in sorrow And swans of the Dane-folk;
Over Sigurd; There had we painted
Better than all things The chiefs a-playing;
I deemed it would be Fair our hands wrought
If they would let me Folk of the kings.
Cast my life by,
Or burn me up Red shields we did,
As they burn the birch-wood. Doughty knights of the Huns,
Hosts spear-dight, hosts helm-dight,
From the fell I wandered All a high king s fellows;
Five days together, And the ships of Sigmund
Until the high hall From the land swift sailing;
Of Half lay before me; Heads gilt over
Seven seasons there And prows fair graven.
I sat with Thora,
The daughter of Hacon, On the cloth we broidered
Up in Denmark. That tide of their battling,
Siggeir and Siggar,
My heart to gladden South in Fion.
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The Volsunga Saga
To set forth the wain,
Then heard Grimhild, The horse to back,
The Queen of Gothland, And the hawk to fly,
How I was abiding, To shoot forth the arrow
Weighed down with woe; From out the yew-bow.
And she thrust the cloth from her
And called to her sons, Valdarr the Dane-king
And oft and eagerly Came with Jarisleif
Asked them thereof, Eymod the third went
Who for her son Then went Jarizskar;
Would their sister atone, In kingly wise
Who for her lord slain In they wended,
Would lay down weregild. The host of the Longbeards;
Red cloaks had they,
Fain was Gunnar Byrnies short-cut,
Gold to lay down Helms strong hammered,
All wrongs to atone for, Girt with glaives,
And Hogni in likewise; And hair red-gleaming.
Then she asked who was fain
Of faring straightly, Each would give me
The steed to saddle Gifts desired,
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The Volsunga Saga
Gifts desired,
Speech dear to my heart, The ling-fish long
If they might yet, Of the land of Hadding,
Despite my sorrow, Wheat-ears unshorn,
Win back my trust, And wild things inwards.
But in them nought I trusted.
In that mead were mingled
Then brought me Grimhild Many ills together,
A beaker to drink of, Blood of all the wood, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]