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THE SONG OF ATLI.
233
Wrathful-hearted he smote
The harp with his hand,
Gunnar laid there alone;
And loud rang the strings.—
In such wise ever
Should hardy ring-scatterer
Keep gold from all folk
In the garth of his foemen.
The harp with his hand,
Gunnar laid there alone;
And loud rang the strings.—
In such wise ever
Should hardy ring-scatterer
Keep gold from all folk
In the garth of his foemen.
Then Atli would wend
About his wide land,
On his steed brazen-shod,
Back from the murder.
Din there was in the garth,
All thronged with the horses;
High the weapon-song rose
From men come from the heath.
About his wide land,
On his steed brazen-shod,
Back from the murder.
Din there was in the garth,
All thronged with the horses;
High the weapon-song rose
From men come from the heath.
Out then went Gudrun,
’Gainst Atli returning,
With a cup gilded over,
To greet the land’s ruler;
“Come, then, and take it,
King glad in thine hall,
From Gudrun’s hands,
For the hell-farers groan not!”
’Gainst Atli returning,
With a cup gilded over,
To greet the land’s ruler;
“Come, then, and take it,
King glad in thine hall,
From Gudrun’s hands,
For the hell-farers groan not!”
Clashed the beakers of Atli,
Wine-laden on bench,
As in hall there a-gathered,
The Huns fell a-talking,
Wine-laden on bench,
As in hall there a-gathered,
The Huns fell a-talking,
