The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrún

III

DAUÐI SINFJÖTLA

(The Death of Sinfjötli)

1

Ships they laded

with shining gear,

gems and jewels,

joys of Gautland.

Wild blew the winds,

waves were foaming;

they viewed afar

the Völsung shore.

2

Long ruled Sigmund,

sire and uncle;

Sinfjötli sat

at his side proudly.

There towered the tree,

tall and ancient,

birds in the branches

were blithe again.

3

Ever Grímnir’s gift

gleamed in warfare;

at Sigmund’s side

Sinfjötli strode.

Hard, handlinkéd,

helm and corslet

glasswhite glittered

with grey silver.

4

Seven kings they slew,

their cities plundered;

wide waxed their realm

the world over.

Of women fairest

in war taken

a wife took Sigmund;

woe she brought him.

5

Sinfjötli came

sailing proudly

ships goldladen

to the shore steering.

Sigmund

‘Hail! Ódin’s son,

eager-hearted!

War no longer!

Wine is pouring.’

6

In came the queen

evil pondering –

her sire was slain

by Sinfjötli – :

Queen

‘Hail! Völsung fell,

valiant-hearted!

Weary art thou.

Wine I bring thee.

7

Steep stands the horn,

Stepson thirsty!’

Sinfjötli

‘Dark seems the drink,

deadly blended!’

Sigmund seized it,

swiftly drained it;

no venom vanquished

Völsung’s eldest.

Queen

8

‘Beer I bring thee

brown and potent!’

Sinfjötli

‘Guile there gleameth

grimly blended!’

Sigmund seized it,

swiftly drank it;

that prince of men

poison harmed not.

Queen

9

‘Ale I offer thee,

eager Völsung!

Völsungs valiant

at venom blench not;

heroes ask not

help in drinking –

if drink thou darest,

drink Sinfjötli!’

10

Dead Sinfjötli

drinking stumbled.

Sigmund

‘Woe! thou witchwife

weary-hearted!

Of the seed of Völsung

in Signý’s child

the fairest flower

fades untimely!’

11

There sorrowladen

Sigmund raised him,

in arms caught him;

out he wandered.

Over wood and wild

to the waves foaming

witless strayed he

to the waves roaring.

Boatman

12

‘Whither bringest thou

thy burden heavy?

My boat is ready

to bear it hence.’

A man there steered,

mantled darkly,

hooded and hoary,

huge and awful.

13

Alone was Sigmund

by the land’s margin;

in Valhöllu

Völsung feasted:

Völsung

‘Son’s son welcome,

and son of daughter!

But one yet await we,

the World’s chosen.’

*