Guðrúnarhvöt

Frá Guðrúnu.Guðrún gekk þá til sævar, er hon hafði drepit Atla. Gekk hon út á sæinn ok vildi fara sér. Hon mátti eigi sökkva. Rak hana yfir fjörðinn á land Jónakrs konungs. Hann fekk hennar. Þeira synir váru þeir Sörli ok Erpr ok Hamðir. Þar fæddist upp Svanhildr Sigurðardóttir. Hon var gift Jörmunrekk inum ríkja. Með honom var Bikki. Hann réð þat, at Randvér konungs son skyldi taka hana. Þat sagði Bikki konungi. Konungr lét hengja Randvé, en troða Svanhildi undir hrossa fótum. En er þat spurði Guðrún, þá kvaddi hon sonu sína.Þá frá ek sennuslíðrfengligstatrauð mál, taliðaf trega stórumer harðhuguðhvatti at vígigrimmum orðumGuðrún sonu:

About Gudrun. Gudrun went down to the sea after she killed Atli. She walked out into the water, meaning to drown herself, but she could not sink. The current carried her across the fjord to the land of King Jonak. He took her as his wife. Their sons were Sorli, Erp, and Hamdir. There Svanhild, Sigurd's daughter, was raised. She was married to Jormunrek the mighty. Bikki was at his court. He arranged for Randver, the king's son, to take her. Bikki told the king. The king had Randver hanged, and had Svanhild trampled under horses' hooves. When Gudrun heard of it, she summoned her sons.I learned then of a bitter quarrel,words wrung out by great grief,when hard-hearted Gudrundrove her sons to battlewith grim words.

"Hví sitið érhví sofið lífihví tregr-at ykkrteiti at mælaer Jörmunrekkryðra systurunga at aldrijóm of traddihvítum ok svörtumá hervegigrám, gangtömumGotna hrossum?

"Why do you sit idle?Why do you sleep your lives away?Why does it not trouble youto speak so lightly,when Jormunrek trampledyour sister —young as she was —under hooves,white and black,on the war-road,grey, battle-brokenhorses of the Goths?

Urðu-a it glíkirþeim Gunnariné in heldr hugðirsem var Högni;hennar munduð ithefna leitaef móð ættiðminna bræðraeða harðan hugHúnkonunga."

You two aren't likeGunnar was,nor do you have the heartthat Hogni had;you would seekto avenge herif you had the courageof my brothers,or the hard willof the Hunnish kings."

Þá kvað þat Hamðirinn hugumstóri:"Lítt myndir þúleyfa dáð Högnaþá er Sigurð vökðusvefni ór;bækr váru þínarenar bláhvíturoðnar í vers dreyrafolgnar í valblóði.

Then Hamdir the great-hearted said:"You'd have little praisefor Hogni's deed,the day they woke Sigurdout of his sleep;your bedsheets,the blue-white ones,were reddened with your husband's blood,soaked in the blood of the slain.

Urðu þér beggjabræðra hefndirslíðrar ok sárarer þú sonu myrðir;knættim allirJörmunrekkisamhyggjendrsystur hefna.

You took revengefor both your brothers —bitter and grim —when you murdered your own sons;together, with one mind,we could all avenge our sisteron Jormunrek.

Berið hnossir framHúnkonunga;hefir þú okkr hvattaat hjörþingi."

Bring out the treasuresof the Hunnish kings;you've whetted us onfor a meeting of swords."

Hlæjandi Guðrúnhvarf til skemmukumbl konungaór kerum valðisíðar brynjurok sonum færðihlóðusk móðgirá mara bógu.

Laughing, Gudrunwent to the storehouse;from the chests she chosekingly war-gear,long mail-coats,and brought them to her sons;the fierce-hearted pairloaded them onto their horses.

Þá kvað þat Hamðirinn hugumstóri:"Svá kemsk meir aftrmóður at vitjageir-Njörðr hniginná Goðþjóðuat þú erfiat öll oss drykkirat Svanhildiok sonu þína."

Then Hamdir the great-hearted said:"This is the last timeyour warrior comes hometo visit his mother —fallen among the Goths;then you'll drinkone funeral toast for us all —for Svanhild,and for your own sons."

Guðrún grátandiGjúka dóttirgekk hon tregligaá tái sitjaok at teljatárughlýramóðug spjöllá margan veg:

Weeping Gudrun,Gjuki's daughter,went sorrowfullyto sit at the threshold,and, cheeks wet with tears,to tell overher grievous tales,in many ways:

"Þrjá vissa ek eldaþrjá vissa ek arnavar ek þrimr verumvegin at húsi;einn var mér Sigurðröllum betrier bræðr mínirat bana urðu.

"Three fires I've known,three hearths I've known,I was carried offto three husbands' houses;one was Sigurd —better than all the rest —and my own brotherswere the ones who killed him.

Svárra sárasák-at ek né kunna-- -- --meir þóttuskmér of stríðaer mik öðlingarAtla gáfu.

I never knewhow to bear such bitter wounds ——it seemed a heavier griefweighed on mewhen the princesgave me to Atli.

Húna hvassahét ek mér at rúnum;máttig-a-k bölvabetr of vinnaáðr ek hnóf höfuðaf Hniflungum.

I called the fierce young Hunsto secret counsel with me;I could find no better wayto master my griefs,until I struck the headsfrom the Hniflungs.

Gekk ek til strandargröm vark nornumvilda ek hrindastríð grið þeira;hófu mik, né drekkðuhávar bárurþví ek land of stékat lifa skyldak.

I went down to the shore,raging at the Norns,wanting to throw offthe hard fate they'd set for me;the high waves lifted me,and would not drown me,so I came ashorebecause I was meant to live.

Gekk ek á beðhugðak mér fyr betraþriðja sinniþjóðkonungi;ól ek mér jóðerfivörðuerfivörðuJónakrs sonum.

I went to a marriage-bed,thinking it better this time,a third time,with a great king;I bore childrento guard my line,to guard my line —Jonak's sons.

En um Svanhildisátu þýjarer ek minna barnabazt fullhugðak;svá var Svanhildrí sal mínumsem væri sæmleitrsólar geisli.

But handmaidens sataround Svanhild —of all my childrenI cherished her most;in my hallSvanhild waslike a radiantray of the sun.

Gædda ek gulliok guðvefjumáðr ek gæfakGoðþjóðar til;þat er mér harðastharma minnaof þann inn hvítahadd Svanhildarauri trödduund jóa fótum.

I decked her in goldand fine cloth,before I gave herto the Gothic land;this is the hardestof all my griefs —that her bright hair,Svanhild's hair,was trampled into the mudunder horses' hooves.

En sá sárastrer þeir Sigurð minnsigri ræntaní sæing váguen sá grimmastrer þeir Gunnarifránir ormartil fjörs skriðuen sá hvassastrer til hjartakonung óblauðankvikvan skáru.

But sorest of allwas when they killed my Sigurd,robbed of his victory,in his own bed;and grimmest of allwas when the gleaming snakescrawled toward Gunnarto take his life;and sharpest of allwas when they cutinto the heartof that fearless kingwhile he still lived.

Fjölð man ek bölva-- -- --Beittu, Siguðrinn blakka marhest inn hraðfæraláttu hinig renna;sitr eigi hérsnör né dóttirsú er Guðrúnugæfi hnossir.

Many griefs I remember ——Bridle him, Sigurd,your black horse,your swift-running steed,let him carry you here;there's no one sitting here now,no daughter, no daughter-in-law,to bring Gudrunany gifts.

Minnsktu, Sigurðrhvat vit mæltumþá er vit á beðbæði sátumat þú myndir mínmóðugr, vitjahalr, ór heljuen ek þín ór heimi.

Remember, Sigurd,what we two said,when we sat togetheron our bed —that you, brave-hearted,would come to meout of the world of the dead,and I to you, out of this one.

Hlaðið ér, jarlareikiköstinnlátið þann und hilmihæstan verða;megi brenna brjóstbölvafullt eldrþrungit um hjartaþiðni sorgir."

Pile it high, my lords —the pyre of oak,let it rise, beneath this prince,the highest ever raised;let the fire burnmy grief-swollen breast,this heart weighed down —let my sorrows melt away."

Jörlum öllumóðal batnisnótum öllumsorg at minniat þetta tregrófof talit væri.

May every earl'sfortune grow,may every woman'sgrief grow less,now that thistale of sorrow has been told.