Völsunga Saga/The Hell-Ride of Brynhild
THE HELL-RIDE OF BRYNHILD.
AFTER the death of Brynhild were made two bales, one for Sigurd, and that was first burned; but Brynhild was burned on the other, and she was in a chariot hung about with goodly hangings.
And so folk say that Brynhild drave in her chariot down along the way to Hell, and passed by an abode where dwelt a certain giantess, and the giantess spake:—
“Nay, with my goodwillNever goest thouThrough this stone-pillaredStead of mine!More seemly for theeTo sit sewing the cloth,Than to go look onThe love of another.
“What dost thou, goingFrom the land of the Gauls,O restless head,To this mine house? Golden girl, hast thou not,If thou listest to hearken,In sweet wise from thy handsThe blood of men washen?”
Brynhild.
“Nay, blame me naught,Bride of the rock-hall,Though I roved a warringIn the days that were;The higher of us twainShall I ever be holdenWhen of our kindMen make account.”
The Giant-woman.
“Thou, O Brynhild,Budli’s daughter,Wert the worst ever bornInto the world:For Giuki’s childrenDeath hast thou gotten,And turned to destructionTheir goodly dwelling.”
Brynhild.
“I shall tell theeTrue tale from my chariot,O thou who naught wottest,If thou listest to wot; How for me they have gottenThose heirs of Giuki,A loveless life,A life of lies.
“Hild under helm,The Hlymdale people,E’en those who knew me,Ever would call me.
“The changeful shapesOf us eight sisters,The wise king badeUnder oak-tree to bear:Of twelve winters was I,If thou listest to wot,When I sware to the young lordOaths of love.
“Thereafter gat IMid the folk of the Goths,For Helmgunnar the old,Swift journey to Hell,And gave to Aud’s brotherThe young, gain and glory;Whereof overwrathWaxed Odin with me.
“So he shut me in shield-wallIn Skata grove,Red shields and whiteClose set around me; And bade him aloneMy slumber to breakWho in no landKnew how to fear.
“He set round my hall,Toward the south quarter,The Bane of all treesBurning aloft;And ruled that he onlyThereover should rideWho should bring me the goldO’er which Fafnir brooded.
“Then upon Grani rodeThe goodly gold-strewerTo where my fostererRuled his fair dwelling.He who alone thereWas deemed best of all,The War-lord of the Danes,Well worthy of men.
“In peace did we sleepSoft in one bed,As though he had beenNaught but my brother:There as we layThrough eight nights wearing,No hand in loveOn each other we laid.
“Yet thence blamed me, Gudrun,Giuki’s daughter,That I had sleptIn the arms of Sigurd;And then I wottedAs I fain had not wotted,That they had bewrayed meIn my betrothals.
“Ah! for unrestAll too longAre men and womenMade alive!Yet we twain togetherShall wear through the ages,Sigurd and I.——Sink adown, O giant-wife!”