Völsunga Saga/The Lament of Oddrun
THE LAMENT OF ODDRUN.
THERE was a king hight Heidrik, and his daughter was called Borgny, and the name of her lover was Vilmund. Now she might nowise be made lighter of a child she travailed with, before Oddrun, Atli’s sister, came to her,—she who had been the love of Gunnar, Giuki’s son. But of their speech together has this been sung:
I have heard tellIn ancient talesHow a may there cameTo Morna-land,Because no manOn mould abidingFor Heidrik’s daughterMight win healing.
All that heard Oddrun,Atli’s sister,How that the damselHad heavy sickness,So she led from stallHer bridled steed, And on the swart oneLaid the saddle.
She made her horse wendO’er smooth ways of earth,Until to a high-builtHall she came;Then the saddle she hadFrom the hungry horse,And her ways wendedIn along the wide hall,And this word firstSpake forth therewith:
“What is most famed,Afield in Hunland,Or what may beBlithest in Hunland?”
Quoth the handmaid.
“Here lieth Borgny,Borne down by trouble,Thy sweet friend, O Oddrun,See to her helping!”
Oddrun said.
“Who of the lordsHath laid this grief on her,Why is the anguishOf Borgny so weary?”
The handmaid said.
“He is hight Vilmund,Friend of hawk-bearers,He wrapped the damselIn the warm bed-gearFive winters longWithout her father’s wotting.”
No more than thisThey spake methinks;Kind sat she downBy the damsel’s knee;Mightily sang Oddrun,Eagerly sang Oddrun,Sharp piercing songsBy Borgny’s side:
Till a maid and a boyMight tread on the world’s ways,Blithe babes and sweetOf Hogni’s bane:Then the damsel foreweariedThe word took up,The first word of allThat had won from her:
“So may help theeAll helpful things,Fey and Freyia,And all the fair Gods, As thou hast thrustThis torment from me!”
Oddrun said.
“Yet no heart had IFor thy helping,Since never wert thouWorthy of helping,But my word I held to,That of old was spokenWhen the high lordsDealt out the heritage,That every soulI would ever help.”
Borgny said.
“Right mad art thou, Oddrun,And reft of thy wits,Whereas thou speakestHard words to meThy fellow everUpon the earthAs of brothers twain,We had been born.”
Oddrun said.
“Well I mind me yet,What thou saidst that evening,Whenas I bore forthFair drink for Gunnar; Such a thing, saidst thou,Should fall out never,For any maySave for me alone.”
Mind had the damselOf the weary dayWhenas the high lordsDealt out the heritage,And she sat her down,The sorrowful woman,To tell of the bale,And the heavy trouble.
“Nourished was IIn the hall of kings—Most folk were glad—’Mid the council of great ones:In fair life lived I,And the wealth of my fatherFor five winters only,While yet he had life.
“Such were the last wordsThat ever he spake,The king forewearied,Ere his ways he went;For he bade folk give meThe gold red-gleaming,And give me in SouthlandsTo the son of Grimhild.
“But Brynhild he badeTo the helm to betake her,And said that Death-chooserShe should become;And that no betterMight ever be bornInto the world,If fate would not spoil it.
“Brynhild in bowerSewed at her broidery,Folk she hadAnd fair lands about her;Earth lay a-sleeping,Slept the heavens aloftWhen Fafnir’s-baneThe burg first saw.
“Then was war wagedWith the Welsh-wrought swordAnd the burg all brokenThat Brynhild owned;Nor wore long space,E’en as well might be,Ere all those wilesFull well she knew.
“Hard and dreadfulWas the vengeance she drew down,So that all weHave woe enow. Through all lands of the worldShall that story fare forthHow she did her to deathFor the death of Sigurd.
“But therewithal GunnarThe gold-scattererDid I fall to lovingAnd she should have loved him,Rings of red goldWould they give to Athi,Would give to my brotherThings goodly and great.
“Yea, fifteen steadsWould they give for me,And the load of GraniTo have as a gift;But then spake Atli,That such was his will,Never gift to takeFrom the sons of Giuki.
“But we in nowiseMight love withstand,And mine head must I layOn my love, the ring-breaker;And many there wereAmong my kin,Who said that theyHad seen us together.
“Then Atli saidThat I surely neverWould fall to crimeOr shameful folly:But now let no oneFor any other,That shame denyWhere love has dealing.
“For Atli sentHis serving-folkWide through the murkwoodProof to win of me,And thither they cameWhere they ne’er should have come,Where one bed we twainHad dight betwixt us.
“To those men had we givenRings of red gold,Naught to tellThereof to Atli,But straight they hastenedHome to the house,And all the taleTo Atli told.
“Whereas from GudrunWell they hid it,Though better by halfHad she have known it.••••••••
“Din was there to hearOf the hoofs gold-shod,When into the garthRode the sons of Giuki.
“There from HogniThe heart they cut,But into the worm-closeCast the other.There the king, the wise-hearted,Swept his harp-strings,For the mighty kingHad ever mindThat I to his helpingSoon should come.
“But now was I goneYet once againUnto Geirmund,Good feast to make;Yet had I hearing,E’en out from Hlesey,How of sore troubleThe harp-strings sang.
“So I bade the bondmaidsBe ready swiftly,For I listed to saveThe life of the king,And we let our shipSwim over the sound,Till Atli’s dwellingWe saw all clearly.
Then came the wretch[1]Crawling out,E’en Atli’s mother,All sorrow upon her!A grave gat her stingIn the heart of Gunnar,So that no helpingWas left for my hero.
“O gold-clad woman,Full oft I wonderHow I my lifeStill hold thereafter,For methought I lovedThat light in battle,The swift with the sword,As my very self.
“Thou hast sat and hearkenedAs I have told thee Of many an ill-fate,Mine and theirs—Each man livethE’en as he may live—Now hath gone forthThe greeting of Oddrun.”
- ↑ Atli’s mother took the form of the only adder that was not lulled to sleep by Gunnar’s harp-playing, and who slew him.