The Song of Atli

  GUDRUN, Giuki’s daughter, avenged her brethren, as is told far and wide: first she slew the sons of Atli, and then Atli himself; and she burned the hall thereafter, and all the household with it: and about these matters is this song made: —
      In days long gone
 Sent Atli to Gunnar
 A crafty one riding,
 Knefrud men called him;
 To Giuki’s garth came he,
 To the hall of Gunnar,
 To the benches gay-dight,
 And the gladsome drinking.

 There drank the great folk
 ‘Mid the guileful one’s silence,
 Drank wine in their fair hall:
 The Huns’ wrath they feared,
 When Knefrud cried
 In his cold voice,
 As he sat on the high seat,
 That man of the Southland:

 “Atli has sent me
 Riding swift on his errands
 On the bit-griping steed
 Through dark woodways unbeaten,
 To bid thee, King Gunnar,
 Come to his fair bench
 With helm well-adorned,
 To the home of King Atli.

 “Shields shall ye have there
 And spears ashen-shafted,
 Helms ruddy with gold,
 And hosts of the Huns;
 Saddle-gear silver-gilt,
 Shirts red as blood,
 The hedge of the warwife,
 And horses bit-griping.

 “And he saith he will give you
 Gnitaheath widespread,
 And whistling spears
 And prows well-gilded,
 Mighty wealth
 With the stead of Danpi,
 And that noble wood
 Men name the Murkwood.”

 Then Gunnar turned head
 And spake unto Hogni:
 “What rede from thee, high one,
 Since such things we hear?
 No gold know I
 On Gnitaheath,
 That we for our parts
 Have not portion as great.

 “Seven halls we have
 Fulfilled of swords,
 And hilts of gold
 Each sword there has;
 My horse is the best,
 My blade is the keenest;
 Fair my bow o’er the bench is,
 Gleams my byrny with gold;
 Brightest helm, brightest shield,
 From Kiar’s dwelling ere brought —
 Better all things I have
 Than all things of the Huns.”

 HOGNI SAID

“What mind has our sister
 That a ring she hath sent us
 In weed of wolves clad?
 Bids she not to be wary?
 For a wolf’s hair I found
 The fair ring wreathed about;
 Wolf beset shall the way be
 If we wend on this errand.”

 No sons whetted Gunnar,
 Nor none of his kin,
 Nor learned men nor wise men,
 Nor such as were mighty.
 Then spake Gunnar
 E’en as a king should speak,
 Glorious in mead-hall
 From great heart and high:

 “Rise up now, Fiornir,
 Forth down the benches
 Let the gold-cups of great ones
 Pass in hands of my good-men!
 Well shall we drink wine,
 Draughts dear to our hearts,
 Though the last of all feasts
 In our fair house this be!

 “For the wolves shall rule
 O’er the wealth of the Niblungs,
 With the pine-woods’ wardens
 If Gunnar perish:
 And the black-felled bears
 With fierce teeth shall bite
 For the glee of the dog-kind,
 If again comes not Gunnar.”

 Then good men never shamed,
 Greeting aloud,
 Led the great king of men
 From the garth of his home;
 And cried the fair son
 Of Hogni the king:
 “Fare happy, O Lords,
 Whereso your hearts lead you!”

 Then the bold knights
 Let their bit-griping steeds
 Wend swift o’er the fells,
 Tread the murk-wood unknown,
 All the Hunwood was shaking
 As the hardy ones fared there;
 O’er the green meads they urged
 Their steeds shy of the goad.

 Then Atli’s land saw they;
 Great towers and strong,
 And the bold men of Bikki,
 Aloft on the burg:
 The Southland folks’ hall
 Set with benches about,
 Dight with bucklers well bounden,
 And bright white shining shields.

 There drank Atli,
 The awful Hun king,
 Wine in his fair hall;
 Without were the warders,
 Gunnar’s folk to have heed of,
 Lest they had fared thither
 With the whistling spear
 War to wake ‘gainst the king.

 But first came their sister
 As they came to the hall,
 Both her brethren she met,
 With beer little gladdened:
 “Bewrayed art thou, Gunnar!
 What dost thou great king
 To deal war to the Huns?
 Go thou swift from the hall!

 “Better, brother, hadst thou
 Fared here in thy byrny
 Than with helm gaily dight
 Looked on Atli’s great house:
 Thou hadst sat then in saddle
 Through days bright with the sun
 Fight to awaken
 And fair fields to redden:

 “O’er the folk fate makes pale
 Should the Norn’s tears have fallen,
 The shield-mays of the Huns
 Should have known of all sorrow;
 And King Atli himself
 To worm-close should be brought;
 But now is the worm-close
 Kept but for thee.”

 Then spake Gunnar
 Great ‘mid the people:
 “Over-late sister
 The Niblungs to summon;
 A long way to seek
 The helping of warriors,
 The high lords unshamed,
 From the hills of the Rhine!”

 Seven Hogni beat down
 With his sword sharp-grinded,
 And the eighth man he thrust
 Amidst of the fire.
 Ever so shall famed warrior
 Fight with his foemen,
 As Hogni fought
 For the hand of Gunnar.

 But on Gunnar they fell,
 And set him in fetters,
 And bound hard and fast
 That friend of Burgundians;
 Then the warrior they asked
 If he would buy life,
 Buy life with gold
 That king of the Goths.

 Nobly spake Gunnar,
 Great lord of the Niblungs;
 “Hogni’s bleeding heart first
 Shall lie in mine hand,
 Cut from the breast
 Of the bold-riding lord,
 With bitter-sharp knife
 From the son of the king.”

 With guile the great one
 Would they beguile,
 On the wailing thrall
 Laid they hand unwares,
 And cut the heart
 From out of Hjalli,
 Laid it bleeding on trencher
 And bare it to Gunnar.

 “Here have I the heart
 Of Hjalli the trembler,
 Little like the heart
 Of Hogni the hardy,
 As much as it trembleth
 Laid on the trencher,
 By the half more it trembled
 In the breast of him hidden.”

 Then laughed Hogni
 When they cut the heart from him,
 From the crest-smith yet quick,
 Little thought he to quail
 The hard acorn of thought
 From the high king they took,
 Laid it bleeding on trencher
 And bare it Gunnar.

 “Here have I the heart
 Of Hogni the hardy,
 Little like to the heart
 Of Hjalli the trembler.
 Howso little it quaketh
 Laid here on the dish,
 Yet far less it quaked
 In the breast of him laid.

 “So far mayst thou bide
 From men’s eyen, O Atli,
 As from that treasure
 Thou shalt abide!

 “Behold in my heart
 Is hidden for ever
 That hoard of the Niblungs,
 Now Hogni is dead.
 Doubt threw me two ways
 While the twain of us lived,
 But all that is gone
 Now I live on alone.

 “The great Rhine shall rule
 O’er the hate-raising treasure,
 That gold of the Niblungs,
 The seed of the gods:
 In the weltering water
 Shall that wealth lie a-gleaming,
 Or it shine on the hands
 Of the children of Huns!”

 Then cried Atli,
 King of the Hun-folk,
 “Drive forth your wains now
 The slave is fast bounden.”
 And straightly thence
 The bit-shaking steeds
 Drew the hoard-warden,
 The war-god to his death.

 Atli the great king,
 Rode upon Glaum,
 With shields set round about,
 And sharp thorns of battle:
 Gudrun, bound by wedlock
 To these, victory made gods of,
 Held back her tears
 As the hall she ran into.

 “Let it fare with thee, Atli,
 E’en after thine oaths sworn
 To Gunnar full often;
 Yea, oaths sworn of old time,
 By the sun sloping southward,
 By the high burg of Sigty,
 By the fair bed of rest,
 By the red ring of Ull!”

 Now a host of men
 Cast the high king alive
 Into a close
 Crept o’er within
 With most foul worms,
 Fulfilled of all venom,
 Ready grave to dig
 In his doughty heart.

 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.

 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.

 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!”

 Clashed the beakers of Atli,
 Wine-laden on bench,
 As in hall there a-gathered,
 The Huns fell a-talking,
 And the long-bearded eager ones
 Entered therein,
 From a murk den new-come,
 From the murder of Gunnar.

 Then hastened the sweet-faced
 Delight of the shield-folk,
 Bright in the fair hall,
 Wine to bear to them:
 The dreadful woman
 Gave dainties withal
 To the lords pale with fate,
 Laid strange word upon Atli:

 “The hearts of thy sons
 Hast thou eaten, sword-dealer,
 All bloody with death
 And drenched with honey:
 In most heavy mood
 Brood o’er venison of men!
 Drink rich draughts therewith,
 Down the high benches send it!

 “Never callest thou now
 From henceforth to thy knee
 Fair Erp or fair Eitil,
 Bright-faced with the drink;
 Never seest thou them now
 Amidmost the seat,
 Scattering the gold,
 Or shafting of spears;
 Manes trimming duly,
 Or driving steeds forth!”

 Din arose from the benches,
 Dread song of men was there,
 Noise ‘mid the fair hangings,
 As all Hun’s children wept;
 All saving Gudrun,
 Who never gat greeting,
 For her brethren bear-hardy,
 For her sweet sons and bright,
 The young ones, the simple
 Once gotten with Atli.

 The seed of gold
 Sowed the swan-bright woman,
 Rings of red gold
 She gave to the house carls;
 Fate let she wax,
 Let the bright gold flow forth,
 In naught spared that woman
 The store-houses’ wealth.

 Atli unaware
 Was a-weary with drink;
 No weapon had he,
 No heeding of Gudrun —
 Ah, the play would be better,
 When in soft wise they twain
 Would full often embrace
 Before the great lords!

 To the bed with sword-point
 Blood gave she to drink
 With a hand fain of death,
 And she let the dogs loose:
 Then in from the hall-door —
 — Up waked the house-carls —
 Hot brands she cast,
 Gat revenge for her brethren.

 To the flame gave she all
 Who therein might be found;
 Fell adown the old timbers,
 Reeked all treasure-houses;
 There the shield-mays were burnt,
 Their lives’ span brought to naught;
 In the fierce fire sank down
 All the stead of the Budlungs.

 Wide told of is this —
 Ne’er sithence in the world,
 Thus fared bride clad in byrny
 For her brothers’ avenging;
 For behold, this fair woman
 To three kings of the people,
 Hath brought very death
 Or ever she died!