J. Tolkien - The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrún

O battle-wielder,

mighty-blended

mead of glory,

brimmed with bounty,

blessed with healing,

and rimmed with runes

of running laughter.’

Sigurd

13

‘I drink, all daring:

doom or glory;

drink of splendour

dear the bearer!’

Brynhild

‘Dear the drinker!

Doom and glory

both me bodeth,

thou bright and fair!’

Sigurd

14

‘I flee nor flinch,

though fey standing,

words of wisdom,

woe, or gladness.’

Brynhild

‘Words of wisdom

warning darkly

hear thou and hold,

hope of Ódin!

15

Be slow to vengeance,

seed of Völsung!

In swearing soothfast,

the sworn holding.

Grim grow the boughs

in guile rooted;

fair flowers the tree

in faith planted!

16

Where the witch-hearted

walks or houses

linger not, lodge not,

though lone the road!

Though beauty blindeth

bright as morning,

let no daughter of kings

thy dreams master!

17

Hail, Sigmund’s son!

Swift thy glory,

yet a cloud meseems

creepeth nigh thee.

Long life, I fear,

lies not before thee,

but strife and storm

stand there darkly.’

Sigurd

18

‘Hail, Brynhild wise!

Bright thy splendour

though fate be strong

to find its end.

Faith ever will I hold

firm, unyielding,

though strife and storm

stand about me.’

19

Faith then they vowed

fast, unyielding,

there each to each

in oaths binding.

Bliss there was born

when Brynhild woke;

yet fate is strong

to find its end.

*

20

Ever wild and wide

the wandering paths;

on roads shining

went riders two.

High towered the helm;

hair flowed in wind;

mail glinted bright

on mountain dark.

Brynhild

21

‘Here, Sigmund’s son,

swift and fearless,

is our way’s parting,

to woe or joy.

Here, lord, I leave thee,

to my land turning;

hence Grani bears thee

glory seeking.’

Sigurd

22

‘Why, Brynhild wise,

bride of Völsung,

when at one are the riders

do our ways sunder?’

Brynhild

‘I was queen of yore,

and a king shall wed.

Lands lie before thee –

thy lordship win!’

23

To her land she turned

lonely shining;

green ran the roads

that Grani strode.

To her land she came,

long the waiting;

in Gjúki’s house

glad the singing.

*

VII

GUÐRÚN

Gudrún

1

‘O mother, hear me!

Mirth is darkened,

dreams have troubled me,

dreams of boding.’

Grímhild

‘Dreams come most oft

in dwindling moon,

or weather changing.

Of woe think not!’

Gudrún

2

‘No wind, nor wraith

of waking thought –

a hart we hunted

over hill and valley;

all would take him,

’twas I caught him:

his hide was golden,

his horns towering.

3

A woman wildly

on the wind riding

with a shaft stung him,

shooting pierced him;

at my knees he fell

in night of woe,

my heart too heavy

might I hardly bear.

4

A wolf they gave me

for woe’s comfort;

in my brethren’s blood

he bathed me red.

Dreams have vexed me,

direst boding,

not wind or weather

or waning moon.’

Grímhild

5

‘Dreams oft token

the dark by light,

good by evil,

Gudrún daughter!

Lift up thine eyes

eager shining!

Green lie the lands

round Gjúki’s house.’

Gudrún

6

‘The roads run green

to the Rhine-water!

Who rides here lone,

arrayed for war?

His helm is high,

his horse fleeting,

his shield is shining

with sheen of gold!’

7

Thus Gudrún gazed,

Gjúki’s daughter,

from wall and window

in wonder looking.

Thus Sigurd rode,

seed of Völsung,

into Gjúki’s courts

gleaming-harnessed.

8

There Gjúki dwelt

his gold dealing

in Niflung land,

the Niflung lord.

Gunnar and Högni

were Gjúki’s sons,

mighty princes;

men them hearkened.

9

There Grímhild dwelt,

guileful in counsel,

grimhearted queen

grey with wisdom,

with lore of leechcraft,

lore of poison,

with chill enchantment

and with changing spells.

10

As ravens dark

were those raven-friends;

fair their faces,

fierce their glances.

With Huns they waged

hate and warfare,

gold ever gathering

in great dungeons.

11

Silent they sat

when Sigurd entered

Gunnar greeting,

Gjúki hailing.

Gjúki

‘Who comes unbidden

in battle’s harness,

helm and hauberk,

to halls of mine?’

Sigurd

12

‘The son of Sigmund,

Sigurd Völsung,

a king’s son cometh

to kingly house.

Fame of Niflungs

far is rumoured,

not yet hath faded

fame of Völsung.’

13

There swift for Sigurd

seat was ordered;

the feast grew fair,

folk were mirthful.

There Gunnar grasped

his golden harp;

while songs he sang

silence fell there.

Of these

things sang

Gunnar

14

By mighty Mirkwood

on the marches of the East

the great Goth-kings

in glory ruled.

By Danpar-banks

was dread warfare

with the hosts of Hunland,

horsemen countless.

15

Horsemen countless

hastened westward;

the Borgund lords

met Budli’s host.

In Budli’s brother

their blades reddened

the glad Gjúkings,

gold despoiling.

Of these

things sang

Sigurd

16

Then Sigurd seized

the sounding harp;

hushed they hearkened

in the hall listening.

The waste lay withered

wide and empty;

forth came Fáfnir,

fire around him.

17

Dark hung the doors

on deep timbers;

gold piled on gold

there glittered wanly.

The hoard was plundered,

helm was lifted,

and Grani greyfell

grievous burdened.

18

High Hindarfell,

hedged with lightning,

mountain mighty

from mists uprose.

Brynhild wakened,

bright her splendour –

song fell silent,

and Sigurd ended.

19

By Gjúki’s chair

Grímhild hearkened,

of Gudrún thinking

and the golden hoard.

Gunnar and Högni

gladly bade him

in league and love

long to dwell there.

*

20

The Borgund lords

their battle furnished;

banners were broidered,

blades were sharpened.

White shone hauberks,

helms were burnished;

under horses’ hooves

Hunland trembled.

21

Grim was Gunnar

on Goti riding;

under haughty Högni

Hölkvir strode;

but fleeter was Grani,

foal of Sleipnir;

flamed all before

the fire of Sigurd.

22

Foes were vanquished,

fields were wasted,

grimly garnered

Gram the harvest.

Where Gjúkings rode

glory won they,

ever glory Sigurd

greater conquered.

23

Wide waxed their realm

in world of old;

Dane-king they slew,

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