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Oddrúnargrátr The Lament of Oddrún from the Appendix: Excerpts from the Poetic Edda in The Story of the Volsungs Translated by William Morris and Eirikr Magnusson Back to Source Texts Index |
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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, Atil'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: In ancient tales How a may there came To Morna-land, Because no man On mould abiding For Heidrik's daughter Might win healing. Atil's sister, How that the damsel Had heavy sickness, So she led from stall Her bridled steed, And on the swart one Laid the saddle. O'er smooth ways of earth, Until to a high-built Hall she came; Then the saddle she had From the hungry horse, And her ways wended In along the wide hall, And this word first Spake forth therewith: Afield in Hunland, Or what may be Blithest in Hunland?" "Here lieth Borgny, Borne down by trouble, Thy sweet friend, O Oddrun, See to her helping!" "Who of the lords Hath laid this grief on her, Why is the anguish Of Borgny so weary?" "He is hight Vilmund, Friend of hawk-bearers, He wrapped the damsel In the warm bed-gear Five winters long Without her father's wotting." They spake methinks; Kind sat she down By the damsel's knee; Mightily sand Oddrun, Sharp piercing songs By Borgny's side: Might tread on the world's ways, Blithe babes and sweet Of Hogni's bane: Then the damsel forewearied The word took up, The first word of all That had won from her: All helpful things, Fey and Freyia, And all the fair Gods, As thou hast thrust This torment from me!" "Yet no heart had I For thy helping, Since never wert thou Worthy of helping, But my word I held to, That of old was spoken When the high lords Dealt out the heritage, That every soul I would ever help." "Right mad art thou, Oddrun, And reft of thy wits, Whereas thou speakest Hard words to me Thy fellow ever Upon the earth As of brothers twain, We had been born." "Well I mind me yet, What thou saidst that evening, Whenas I bore forth Fair drink for Gunnar; Such a thing, saidst thou, Should fall out never, For any may Save for me alone." Of the weary day Whenas the high lords Dealt out the heritage, And she sat her down, The sorrowful woman, To tell of the bale, And the heavy trouble. In the hall of kings - Most folk were glad - 'Mid the council of great ones: In fair life lived I, And the wealth of my father For five winters only, While yet he had life. That ever he spake, The king forewearied, Ere his ways he went; For be bade folk give me The gold red-gleaming, And give me in Southlands To the son of Grimhild. To the helm to betake her, And said that Death-chooser She should become; And that no better Might ever be born Into the world, If fate would not spoil it. Sewed at her broidery, Folk she had And fair lands about her; Earth lay a-sleeping, Slept the heavens aloft When Fafnir's-bane The burg first saw. With the Welsh-wrought sword And the burg all broken That Brynhild owned; Nor wore long space, E'en as well might be, Ere all those wiles Full well she knew. Was the vengeance she drew down, So that all we Have woe enow. Through all lands of the world Shall that story fare forth How she did her to death For the death of Sigurd. The gold-scatterer Did I fall to loving And should have loved him. Rings of red gold Would they give to Atli, Would give to my brother Things goodly and great. Would they give for me, And the load of Grani To have as a gift; But then spake Atli, That such was his will, Never gift to take From the sons of Giuki. Might love withstand, And mine head must I lay On my love, the ring-breaker; And many there were Among my kin, Who said that they Had seen us together. That I surely never Would fall to crime Or shameful folly: But now let no one For any other, That shame deny Where love has dealing. His serving-folk Wide through the murkwood Proof to win of me, And thither they came Where they ne'er should have come, Where one bed we twain Had dight betwixt us. Rings of red gold, Naught to tell Thereof to Atli, But straight they hastened Home to the house, And all the tale To Atli told. Well they hid it, Though better by half Had she have known it. ***** Of the hoofs gold-shod, When into the garth Rode the sons of Giuki. The heart they cut, But into the worm-close Cast the other. There the king, the wise-hearted, Swept his harp-strings, For the might king Had ever mind That I to his helping Soon should come. Yet once again Unto Geirmund, Good feast to make; Yet had I hearing, E'en out from Hlesey, How of sore trouble The harp-strings sang. Be ready swiftly, For I listed to save The life of the king, And we let our ship Swim over the sound, Till Atli's dwelling We saw all clearly. Crawling out, E'en Atli's mother, All sorrow upon her! A grave gat her sting In the heart of Gunnar, So that no helping Was left for my hero. Full oft I wonder How I my life Still hold thereafter, For methought I loved That light in battle, The swift with the sword, As my very self. As I have told thee Of many an ill-fate, Mine and theirs - Each man liveth E'en as he may live - Now hath gone forth The greeting of Oddrun." _______________________________________________ 1. 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. The Story of the Volsungs Translated by William Morris and Eirikr Magnusson Walter Scott Press, London, 1888 _________________________________________________ Back to Top Back to Source Texts Index Back to Woden's Harrow Home  |