The Lay of Gudrun

Gudrun sat over Sigurd's dead body.
It was long ago that Gudrun intended to die,
when she sat sorrowful over Sigurd:
she did not weep or strike her hands together,
or lament like other women.

The very wise warriors stepped forward,
they tried to ease her terrible grief;
even so Gudrun could not weep,
she was so impassioned, she might have burst asunder.

The gleaming wives of warriors,
adorned with gold, sat by Gudrun;
each of them told of their great grief,
the bitterest which had been visited on them.

Even so Gudrun could not weep;
she was so impassioned by the death of the young man
and so fierce in mind at the fall of the prince.

Then said Herborg, queen of the land of the Huns:
'I have a heavier grief to speak of:
my seven sons, in the lands in the south,
my husband, as the eighth, all fell in slaughter.

I myself had to honour, I myself had to bury,
I myself had to arrange their journey to Hel.'

Even so Gudrun could not weep;
she was so impassioned by the death of the young man
and so fierce in mind at the fall of the prince.
She did not weep or strike her hands together,
or lament like other women.

Then said Gullrond, daughter of Giuki:
'You don't really know, foster-mother, though you are wise,
how to reply to a young wife.'
She advised against concealing the corpse of the prince.

She swept the covering from Sigurd
and pushed the blood-soaked pillows by the woman's knees:
'Look at your beloved, put your mouth to his moustache,
as you used to embrace the prince when he was alive.'

Gudrun looked at him one time only;
she saw the prince's hair running with blood,
the bright eyes of the lord grown dim,
the prince's breast scored by the sword.

Then Gudrun knelt, leaning on the pillow;
loosened her hair, scratched her cheeks,
and drops like rain ran down to her knees.

Then Gudrun wept, the daughter of Giuki,
so that her tears fell into her hair.

Gudrun said:
'So was my Sigurd, beside the sons of Giuki,
as if a leek were grown up out of the grass,
or a bright stone were threaded onto a string,
a precious gem, among the nobles.

I miss in his seat and in my bed
my friend to talk to, the kin of Giuki caused it;
the kin of Giuki caused my grief
and agonizing weeping for their sister.

So was Sigurd beside the sons of Guiki
like a green leek grown up out of the grass,
or a high-antlered stag among the sharp-eyed beasts,
or red-glowing gold next to dull silver.

Away I went from the conversation,
to the wood to gather the leavings of the wolves,
I could not weep nor strike my hands together,
nor lament as other women do.

Weeping I want to talk to Grani;
cheeks wet with tears, I asked the horse for new;
Grani drooped his head then, hid it in the grass,
the horse knew that his master was not living.

The night seemed to me as dark as the dark of the moon,
as I sat grieving over Sigurd;
it seemed to me the best of all things
if the wolves took my life.

I lay down then, I did not want to sleep,
obstinate in the bed of pain; that I remember well.'

I have come to stand alone like an aspen in the forest,
my kinsmen cut away as a fir's branches,
bereft of happiness, as a wood of its leaves,
when a girl cutting branches comes up on a warm day.'

Do you recall, Sigurd, what we promised,
when we two lay in bed together,
that, brave warrior, you would visit me from hell,
and I would come to you from the world.'





-Taken from four Eddic poems: The First Lay of Gudrun, The Second Lay of Gudrun, the Whetting of Gudrun, and the Lay of Hamdir.
~Trans. Carolyne Larrington from Icelandic