STORIES AND BALLADS
OF THE FAR PAST

TRANSLATED FROM THE NORSE
(ICELANDIC AND FAROESE)
WITH INTRODUCTIONS AND NOTES

BY

N. KERSHAW

CAMBRIDGE
AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS
1921

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN

Preface

Very few of the Fornaldar Sögur Northrlanda have hitherto been translated into English. The Völsungasaga is of course well known, but with this exception the 'Stories of Icelanders,' and the 'Stories of the Kings of Norway' are probably the only sagas familiar to the majority of English readers. Of the four sagas contained in this volume only one—the Tháttr of Sörli—has appeared in English before, though the poetry which they contain has frequently been translated, from the time of Hickes's Thesaurus (1705). So far as I am aware no version of any of the Faroese ballads has appeared in English. Out of the great number which were collected during the 18th and 19th centuries I have chosen a few which deal with the same stories as the sagas translated here; and for purposes of comparison I have added a short extract from one of the Icelandic Rímur, as well as a Danish ballad and part of the Shetland Hildina.

In accordance with general custom in works of this kind I have discarded the use of accents, unfamiliar symbols, etc., except in a few Norse words which can hardly be anglicised.

My thanks are due to the Syndics of the Cambridge University Press for undertaking the publication of this book, and to the staff for their unfailing courtesy.

To Professor Thuren of Christiania I am indebted for kindly allowing me to print the melodies from his son's Folkesangen paa Færøerne. I have also to thank many friends in St Andrews and Cambridge for help which they have kindly given to me in various ways, including Professor Lawson, Dr Maitland Anderson and the staffs of the two University Libraries, and Mr B. Dickins. Especially I wish to thank Professor Chadwick to whom I am indebted for constant help and advice throughout the book.

N. K.

2 November, 1920.

Table of Contents

PART I

SAGAS

PART II

BALLADS

TO MY SISTER

PART I

SAGAS

THE SAGAS

GENERAL INTRODUCTION

The following stories are taken from the Fornaldarsögur Northrlanda, or 'Stories of Ancient Times relating to the countries of the North'—a collection of Sagas edited by Rafn in 1829-30 and re-edited by Valdimar Ásmundarson in 1886-1891. The stories contained in this collection deal almost exclusively with times anterior to Harold the Fairhaired (c. 860-930) and the colonisation of Iceland, and stop therefore where the better known stories relating to Iceland and the historical kings of Norway begin. Some of them relate to persons and events of the ninth century, while others are concerned with times as remote as the fourth or fifth centuries. Their historical value is naturally far inferior to that of the Íslendinga Sögur, or 'Stories of Icelanders' and the Konunga Sögur, or 'Stories of the Kings.'

From the literary point of view also the 'Stories of Ancient Times' are generally much inferior to the others. The 'Stories of Icelanders' are derived from oral tradition, which generally goes back in more or less fixed form to the time at which the characters in the stories lived, and they give us a vivid picture of the persons themselves and of the conditions of life in their time. In the 'Stories of Ancient Times,' on the other hand, though there is some element derived from tradition, often apparently of a local character, it is generally very meagre. More often perhaps the source of the stories is to be found in poems, notable instances of which will be found in Hervarar Saga and in Völsunga Saga. In many cases, however, the stories without doubt contain a large proportion of purely fictitious matter.

The texts of the 'Stories of Ancient Times' which have come down to us date as a rule from the thirteenth and the beginning of the fourteenth centuries though the actual mss. themselves are generally later. Most of the stories, however, were probably in existence before this time. The Danish historian Saxo Grammaticus (c. 1200) was familiar with many of them, including the story of Hethin and Högni[¹] and one of the scenes recorded in Hervarar Saga[²]. And we are told that a story which seems to have corresponded, in its main outlines at least, to the story of Hromund Greipsson was composed and recited at a wedding in Iceland in 1119[³]. But in many cases the materials of our stories were far earlier than this, though they no doubt underwent considerable changes before they assumed their present form.

Indeed many stages in the literary history of the North are represented in the following translations. Of these probably the oldest is that section of the Hervarar Saga which deals with the battle between the Goths and the Huns "at Dylgia and on Dunheith and upon all the heights of Jösur." The poetry here included in the saga dates even in its present form probably from the Viking Age, perhaps from the tenth century. But the verses themselves do not appear to be all of the same date. Some of them show a certain elaboration and a sense of conscious art, while others are comparatively bare and primitive in type and contain very early features[⁴]; and there is every probability that such poetry was ultimately derived from poetry composed at a time when the Goths were still remembered. This is not surprising in view of the fact that stories relating to the Goths were popular in English and German heroic poetry, as well as in the heroic lays of the North. Indeed we know from Jordanes[⁵] and elsewhere that heroic poetry was common among the Goths themselves and that they were wont to celebrate the deeds of their ancestors in verse sung to the accompaniment of the harp.

This poem is no doubt much older than the saga. Originally it would seem to have been complete in itself; but many verses have probably been lost. Thus there can be little doubt that the prose passages in chs. XII-XV are often merely a paraphrase of lost verses, though it must not be assumed that all the prose in this portion of the saga originated in such a way[⁶]. "It is difficult to tell ... where the prose of the manuscripts is to be taken as standing in the place of lost narrative verses, and where it fills a gap that was never intended to be filled with verse, but was always left to the reciter to be supplied in his own way[⁷]." The difficulty, however, is greater in some cases than in others. The following picturesque passage from the opening of ch. 14 of the Hervarar Saga is a very probable instance of a paraphrase of lost verses:

It happened one morning at sunrise that as Hervör was standing on the summit of a tower over the gate of the fortress, she looked southwards towards the forest and saw clouds of dust, arising from a great body of horse, by which the sun was hidden for a long time. Next she saw a gleam beneath the dust, as though she were gazing on a mass of gold—fair shields overlaid with gold, gilded helmets and white corslets.

The motif of a chief or his lady standing on the pinnacle of a tower of the fort and looking out over the surrounding country for an approaching army is a very common one in ballads. The motif of the above passage from Hervarar Saga, including the armour of the foe and the shining shields, occurs in the opening stanzas of the Danish Ballad De vare syv og syvsindstyve[⁸], which probably dates from the fourteenth century (though it may possibly be later[⁹]) and which derives its material ultimately from old heroic lays[¹⁰].

To the same period approximately as the poem on the battle with the Huns belong the two pieces from the Older Edda contained in the Tháttr[¹¹] of Nornagest. The Reginsmál indeed, of which only about half is quoted, may be even earlier than the former (in the form in which it appears in Hervarar Saga), while the Hellride of Brynhild can hardly be later than the early part of the eleventh century.

A second stage in the literary history of the North is represented by the 'episodic' poems Hjalmar's Death Song and the Waking of Angantyr, both of which are attributed to the twelfth century by Heusler and Ranisch[¹²]. Unlike the poem on the battle between the Goths and the Huns, neither of these forms a story complete in itself. They presuppose the existence of a saga in some form or other, presumably oral, dealing at least with the fight at Samsø; and the existence of such a saga in the twelfth century is confirmed by the account of the same event given by Saxo[¹³].

A third stage in the literary development of the heroic legends is represented by the written saga itself, which has evidently been formed by the welding together, with more or less skill as the case may be, of several distinct stories, and of more than one literary form. A particularly striking instance of this is to be found in the Hervarar Saga with its stories of the Heroic and Viking Ages, the poems dealing with the fight on Samsø, the primitive Riddles of Gestumblindi and the early poem of the battle between the Goths and Huns[¹⁴]. Something of the same kind has also taken place in the composition of the Thættir of Nornagest and of Sörli respectively, though into the former has entered a considerable element of folk-tale which is introduced with a certain naïveté and no little skill alongside the old heroic legends. As has been already mentioned, these three sagas, like others of the same type, appear to have been written down in the late thirteenth or the early years of the fourteenth century. On the other hand most if not the whole of the Saga of Hromund Greipsson appears to have been composed early in the twelfth century, but we do not know when it was first written down.

A fourth stage is represented by the Icelandic Rímur which are for the most part rhyming metrical versions of the sagas and which date from the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. As an illustration of this stage I have translated a few stanzas from the Gríplur, a Ríma based on an early form of the story of Hromund Greipsson[¹⁵]. The Rímur are, so far as we can judge, somewhat wearisome paraphrases of the prose stories, and while the metre and diction are elaborate in the extreme, the treatment of the story is often mechanical and puerile. Comparatively few of the Rímur have as yet been published and the Gríplur is the only one known to me which is primarily concerned with any of the sagas contained in this volume.

The ballads, both Faroese and Danish[¹⁶], belong to a fifth stage in the life of heroic legend in the North; but their origin and history is by no means so clear as that of the Rímur, and it is at present impossible to assign even approximate dates to more than a few of them with any degree of certainty. I have touched on this question at somewhat greater length below[¹⁷]; and I would only add here that some Danish and Swedish ballads, e.g. Ung Sveidal[¹⁸], Thord af Haffsgaard[¹⁹] and perhaps Her Aage[²⁰], appear to be derived more or less directly from poems of the Viking Age, such as Fjölsvinsmál, Thrymskvitha and Helgakvitha Hundingsbana I—without any intermediate prose stage.

A careful study of the Faroese ballads as a whole might enable one to determine something more of the relation of ballads to 'Literature'[²¹] and of the various ballad forms to one another, such as that of the short and simple Ballad of Hjalmar and Angantyr to the longer and more complicated Ballad of Arngrims Sons. Simplification and confusion are among the chief characteristics of popular poetry[²²]; but it is to be noted that in the case of the Hervarar Saga confusion set in long before the days of the ballad—as early as the saga itself, where there must surely be at least one case of repetition of character[²³]. In reality, considering through how many stages the ballad material has passed, one is amazed at the vitality of the stories and the amount of original groundwork preserved. A careful comparison of the Völsunga Saga and the Faroese cycle of ballads generally classed together as Sjúrðar Kvæði—which, be it observed, were never written down at all till the nineteenth century—brings out to a degree literally amazing the conservatism of the ballads on the old heroic themes.

Readers who desire to make further acquaintance with the 'Stories of Ancient Times' as a whole will find a further account of the subject in Professor Craigie's Icelandic Sagas (p. 92 ff.). More detailed accounts will be found in Finnur Jónsson's Oldnorske og Oldislandske Litteraturs Historie[²⁴], Vol. ii, pp. 789-847, and in Mogk's Geschichte der Altnordischen Literatur in Paul's Grundriss der Germanischen Philologie, Ed. ii, 1904, Vol. II, pp. 830-857, while a discussion of the heroic stories will be found in Professor Chadwick's Heroic Age, chs. i-viii. For a full bibliography of the texts, translations, and general literature dealing with the Fornaldarsögur collectively, see the annual Islandica, Vol. V, pp. 1-9, compiled by Halldór Hermannsson and issued by the Cornell University Library, 1912.

[Footnote 1:] Cf. Saxo Grammaticus, Dan. Hist., Book v, p. 160 (Elton's translation, pp. 197, 198).

[Footnote 2:] Cf. Saxo, op. cit., Book v, p. 166 (Elton's translation, p. 205).

[Footnote 3:] Cf. Introduction to the Saga of Hromund Greipsson, p. 58 below.

[Footnote 4:] Cf. Heusler and Ranisch, Eddica Minora (Dortmund, 1903) p. xii.

[Footnote 5:] De Origine Actibusque Getarum (transl. C.C. Mierow, Princeton, 1915), cap. 5.

[Footnote 6:] Cf. Heusler and Ranisch, op. cit., p. x ff.

[Footnote 7:] Ker, Epic and Romance (London, 1908, 2nd ed.), p. 112.

[Footnote 8:] S. Grundtvig, Danmarks Gamle Folkeviser (Copenhagen, 1853-1890), Bd I, no. 7.

[Footnote 9:] See General Introduction to Part ii, p. 166 below.

[Footnote 10:] Cf. Axel Olrik, Danske Folkeviser í Udvalg (Copenhagen and Christiania, 1913), pp. 81, 82.

[Footnote 11:] A. Tháttr (pl. Thættir) is a story within a story—an episode complete in itself but contained in a long saga.

[Footnote 12:] Eddica Minora, pp. xxi, xlii.

[Footnote 13:] Op. cit., Book v, p. 166 (Elton's translation, pp. 204, 205).

[Footnote 14:] See Introduction to the Hervarar Saga, pp. 81-4 below.

[Footnote 15:] See Introduction to the Gríplur, p. 171 ff. below.

[Footnote 16:] Cf. p. 165 ff. below.

[Footnote 17:] Cf. General Introduction to Part ii, p. 166 below.

[Footnote 18:] Bugge's edition of the Saemundar Edda, p. 352 ff.; also Ker, Epic and Romance, p. 114 etc.; Vigfússon and Powell, Corpus Poeticum Boreale (Oxford, 1883), Vol. i, p. 501 ff.

[Footnote 19:] C. P. B., Vol. i, pp. 175 and 501 ff.

[Footnote 20:] C. P. B., Vol. i, p. 502 ff.

[Footnote 21:] Always, however, with the proviso that, owing to the avowed literary origin of many of them, the Faroese ballads to some extent form a class by themselves; cf. General Introduction to Part ii, p. 166 below.

[Footnote 22:] Cf. Chadwick, The Heroic Age (Cambridge, 1912), p. 95.

[Footnote 23:] Cf. the Introduction to the Saga of Hervör and Heithrek, p. 81 f. below.

[Footnote 24:] Copenhagen, 1901.

INTRODUCTION TO THE THÁTTR OF NORNAGEST

This story occurs as an episode in the long Saga of Olaf Tryggvason—to be distinguished from the shorter Saga of Olaf Tryggvason contained in the Heimskringla and translated by Morris and Magnússon in the Saga Library[¹]. The best known manuscript (F) of the longer saga is the Flateyjarbók which comes from the island of Flatey in Breithifjörth off the west of Iceland, and was written between 1386 and 1394. The second (S) is the Codex Arn. Magn. 62 in the Royal Library (at Copenhagen), which, like the former, contains a fragment only of the Saga of Olaf Tryggvason, but includes the Tháttr of Nornagest. This ms. dates, in all probability, from shortly after the middle of the fourteenth century. Finally, besides several paper mss. (comparatively late and unimportant), there is a ms. A (number 2845 of the Royal Library at Copenhagen) dating from the fifteenth century, in which the tháttr stands by itself.

Rafn[²], in his edition of the Fornaldarsögur, based his text of the tháttr on A; but subsequent examination has rendered it probable that this ms. is hardly independent of F which gives an earlier and better text. As regards mss. F and S, the latter frequently gives a better reading than the former[³]. For this reason it was followed by Bugge[⁴] who believed it to be the better source. Wilken[⁵] however held that F represents the 'Vulgate' of the tháttr, while S gives a corrected and edited version. In his edition, therefore, he chiefly followed F, though he made use of S throughout, and also (for the poems) the Codex Regius of the Older Edda. His example has been followed by later editors, including Valdimar Ásmundarson[⁶], from whose version the following translation has been made. The differences between all three mss. appear to be very slight, but Ásmundarson's edition approximates more closely to Wilken's than to Rafn's. Indeed the variations between the texts of Wilken's second edition[⁷] and Ásmundarson are negligible. For a full bibliography of texts, translations, and literature relating to this saga the reader is referred to Islandica, Vol. v, p. 32.

The saga itself dates from about 1300[⁸]. It is derived from tradition, mainly Icelandic; but the various stories contained in it differ greatly from one another in their historical value. This episode is probably to be regarded as legendary in part; and it would seem also to contain a good deal of conscious fiction.

The tháttr falls naturally into three parts. The framework of the story—the arrival of Guest at the hall of Olaf Tryggvason, his inclusion in the King's retinue, and his baptism—forms a whole in itself and contains nothing inherently improbable save the manner of his death, where the folk-tale element creeps in. The first 'story within a story,' the account that Guest gives of his wanderings and more especially of the adventures of Sigurth, is legendary—or perhaps rather made up from old legends with the help of the Edda poems. As in the case of the Anglo-Saxon poem Widsith—and indeed to a much greater extent—the persons who figure in the stranger's stories lived in reality in widely different ages. Sigurth and his brothers-in-law belong to the early part of the fifth century, Harold the Fairhaired and the sons of Lothbrok to the latter part of the ninth century. Other characters such as Guthmund of Glasisvellir who is mentioned in the first chapters are probably mythical.

The third part, which is perhaps the most interesting part of the tháttr, is the passage in which Guest explains how he came by his name. There can be no doubt that here we are in the region of pure folk-tale. The story of the visit of the Norns shows a very remarkable resemblance to the Greek legend of Althaea and Meleager. The same motif appears to some extent in the mediaeval French romances of Ogier the Dane, and is familiar to everyone in a slightly different form as the first part of the German folk-tale, Sleeping Beauty, where the reference to spinning should be noted.

The poetry contained in this tháttr, unlike that in the Hervarar Saga, is all taken from the Older Edda. One of the poems, the Hellride of Brynhild, is given almost complete and there are long extracts from Reginsmál. There are, however, some references to poems which no longer exist[⁹].

In many respects the story of Nornagest is among the most interesting of the Romantic Sagas. It gives a vivid picture of life in a northern court—the naïveté and friendliness of the conversation; the personal interest that the King took in his men; the intimacy and directness and simplicity of the intercourse between them. There is something, too, of the same boyish indulgence—e.g. in King Olaf's attitude towards the wager—which one notices in Hrolf Kraki's talk with Vögg[¹⁰]. Yet combined with the amiability of both kings is a certain natural dignity which is very convincing.

[Footnote 1:] An abridged translation of the longer saga by J. Sephton is published in the Northern Library, Vol. ii (London, 1898).

[Footnote 2:] Fornaldarsögur Northrlanda (Copenhagen, 1829), Introduction, pp. xix, xx.

[Footnote 3:] Wilken, Die Prosaische Edda nebst Völsungasaga und Nornageststháttr (Paderborn, 1877), p. lxxxv ff.

[Footnote 4:] Norrøne Skrifter af Sagnhistorisk Indhold (Christiania, 1873).

[Footnote 5:] Op. cit., p. lxxxviii.

[Footnote 6:] See Fornaldarsögur Northrlanda (Reykjavík, 1891), Vol. i, pp. 247-266.

[Footnote 7:] The second edition follows the Codex Regius in the text of the poems included in the Tháttr more closely than did the first edition.

[Footnote 8:] Cf. Finnur Jónsson, Den Oldnorske og Oldislandske Litteraturs Historie, Vol. ii, p. 847; also Mogk, Norwegisch-Isländischen Literatur (Strassburg, 1904), p. 822.

[Footnote 9:] Cf. p. 19 below and note (p. 222).

[Footnote 10:] Cf. Skáldskaparmál, ch. 3; also Hrólfs Saga Kraka, ch. 42.

THE THÁTTR OF NORNAGEST[°]

I.[°] The story goes that on one occasion when King Olaf Tryggvason was living at Trondhjem, it chanced that a man came to him late in the day and addressed him respectfully. The King welcomed him and asked him who he was, and he said that his name was Guest.

The King answered: "You shall be guest here, whatever you are called."

Guest said: "I have told you my name truly, Sire, and I will gladly receive your hospitality if I may."

The King told him he could have it readily. But since the day was far spent, the King would not enter into conversation with his guest; for he was going soon to vespers, and after that to dinner, and then to bed and to sleep.

Now on that same night King Olaf Tryggvason was lying awake in his bed and saying his prayers, while all the other men in the hall were asleep. Then the King noticed that an elf or spirit of some kind had come into the hall, though all the doors were locked. He made his way past the beds of the men who were asleep there, one after another, and at last reached the bed of a man at the far end.

Then the elf stopped and said: "An empty house, and a mighty strong bolt on the door! People say that the King is the wisest of men. If he were as clever in things of this kind as they say he would not sleep so soundly."

After that he vanished through the door, locked as it was.

Early next morning the King sent his servant to find out who had occupied that bed over night, and it proved to have been the stranger. The King ordered him to be summoned before him and asked him whose son he was.

He answered: "My father's name was Thorth. He was a Dane and was called 'The Contentious,' and lived at a place called Groening in Denmark."

"You are a well set-up man," said the King.

Guest was bold of speech, and bigger in build than most men. He looked strong but was somewhat advanced in years. He asked the King if he might stay for a while in his retinue. The King asked if he were baptised. Guest said that he had been prime-signed but not baptised. The King said that he was free to remain in his retinue, but added:

"You will not remain long unbaptised with me."

The reason for the elf's remark about the bolt was that Guest had crossed himself, that evening like other men, but was in reality still a heathen.

The King said: "Can you do anything in the way of sport or music?"

He replied that he could play the harp and tell stories which people enjoyed.

Then said the King: "King Svein has no right to let unbaptised men leave his kingdom and wander about from one country to another."

Guest replied: "You must not blame the King of the Danes for this, for it is a long time since I left Denmark. In fact it was a long time before the Emperor Otto burnt the Dane-work and forced King Harold Gormsson and Earl Haakon the Heathen to become Christians."

The King questioned Guest about many subjects and he always gave him good and intelligent answers. Men say that it was in the third year of King Olaf's reign that Guest came to him.

In this year also there came to him two men called Grim who were sent by Guthmund from Glasisvellir. They brought to the King as a present from Guthmund two horns which were also called 'Grim.' They had also some further business with the King which we will return later.

As for Guest, he remained with the King, and had a place at the far end of the visitors' seats. He was a man of breeding and had good manners, and was popular and much respected by everyone.

II.[°] A little before Yule, Ulf the Red and his following came home. He had been engaged on the King's business all summer, for he had been appointed to guard the coasts of 'The Bay' against Danish raids. He never failed to be with King Olaf at mid-winter.

Ulf had many fine treasures to bring to the King, which he had got during the summer, and one gold ring in particular which was called Hnituth. It was welded together in seven places and each piece had a different colour. It was made of much finer gold than rings usually are. The ring had been given to Ulf by a landowner called Lothmund, and before that it had belonged to King Half, from whom the Halfsrekkar take their name. The ring had come to them as forced tribute from King Halfdan Ylfing. Lothmund had asked Ulf in return for it that he would guard his home with the support of King Olaf, and Ulf had promised to do so.

Now King Olaf was keeping Yule in magnificent style at his court in Trondhjem; and it was on the eighth day of Yule that Ulf gave him the gold ring Hnituth. The King thanked him for the gift as well as for all the faithful service which he had constantly rendered him.

The ring was passed round the building in which the drinking was going on.—As yet no halls had been built in Norway. Now each man showed it to his neighbour and they thought that they had never seen such fine gold as that of which the ring was made. At last it came to the guest-table, and so to the guest who had just arrived. He looked at the ring and handed it back on the palm of his hand—the hand in which he had been holding his drinking horn. He was not much impressed with the treasure, and made no remarks about it, but went on jesting with his companions. A serving-man was pouring out drink at the end of the guest-table.

"Do you not like the ring?" he asked.

They said; "We all like it very much except the new-comer. He can't see anything in it; but we think he can't appreciate it simply because he doesn't care for things of this kind."

The serving-man went up the hall to the King and told him exactly what the guests had said, adding that, the new-comer had taken little note of the treasure, valuable as it was, when it was shown to him.

Then the King remarked: "The new-comer probably knows more than you think: he must come to me in the morning and tell me a story."

Now he and the other guests at the farthest table were talking among themselves. They asked the new-comer where he had seen a better ring or even one as good as this.

"Since you evidently think it strange," said he, "that I make so little of it, I may say that I have certainly seen gold which is in no way inferior, but actually better."

The King's men now laughed heartily and said that that promised good sport, adding:

"Will you agree to wager with us that you have seen gold as good as this, and prove it? We will stake four marks in current coin against your knife and belt; and the King shall decide who is in the right."

Then said Guest: "I will neither be made a laughing-stock for you nor fail to keep the wager which you offer. And I will certainly lay a wager with you on the spot, and stake exactly what you have suggested, and the King shall judge who is in the right."

Then they stopped talking, and Guest took his harp and played it well till far into the evening, so that it was a joy to all who heard him. What he rendered best was The Harping of Gunnar; and last of all he played the ancient Wiles of Guthrun, neither of which they had heard before. And after that they went to sleep for the night.

III. In the morning the King rose early and heard Mass; and after that he went to breakfast with his retinue. And when he had taken his place in the high seat, the guests came up to him, and Guest with them; and they told him all about their agreement and the wager which they had made.

"I am not much taken with your wager," replied the King, "although it is your own money that you are staking. I suspect that the drink must have gone to your heads; and I think you would do well to give it up, especially if Guest agrees."

"My wish is," replied Guest, "that the whole agreement should stand."

"It looks to me, Guest," said the King, "as if it was my men rather than you whose tongues have got them into trouble; but we will soon put it to the test."

After that they left him and went to drink; and when the drinking tables were removed, the King summoned Guest and spoke to him as follows:

"Now is the time for you to produce the gold if you have any, so that I can decide your wager."

"As you will, Sire!" replied Guest.

Then he felt in a pouch which he had with him, and took out of it a fob which he untied, and then handed something to the King.

The King saw that it was a piece of a saddle-buckle and that it was of exceedingly fine gold. Then he bade them bring the ring Hnituth; and when they did so, the King compared the ring and the piece of gold and said:

"I have no doubt whatever that the gold which Guest has shown us is the finer, and anyone who looks at it must think so too."

Everybody agreed with the King. Then he decided the wager in Guest's favour, and the other guests came to the conclusion that they had made fools of themselves over the business.

Then Guest said: "Take your money and keep it yourselves, for I don't need it; but don't make any more wagers with strangers, for you never know when you may hit upon someone who has both seen and heard more than you have.—I thank you, Sire, for your decision!"

Then the King said: "Now I want you to tell me where you got that gold from, which you carry about with you."

Guest replied: "I am loth to tell you, because no-one will believe what I have to say about it."

"Let us hear it all the same," said the King, "for you promised before that you would tell us your story."

"If I tell you the history of this piece of gold," replied Guest, "I expect you will want to hear the rest of my story along with it."

"I expect that that is just what will happen," said the King.

IV.[°] "Then I will tell you how once I went south into the land of the Franks. I wanted to see for myself what sort of a prince Sigurth the son of Sigmund was, and to discover if the reports which had reached me of his great beauty and courage were true. Nothing happened worth mentioning until I came to the land of the Franks and met King Hjalprek. He had a great court around him. Sigurth, the son of Sigmund, the son of Völsung, and of Hjördis, the daughter of Eylimi, was there at that time. Sigmund had fallen in battle against the sons of Hunding, and Hjördis had married Alf the son of King Hjalprek. There Sigurth grew up together with all the other sons of King Sigmund. Among these were Sinfjötli and Helgi, who surpassed all men in strength and stature. Helgi slew King Hunding, thereby earning the name Hundingsbani. The third son was called Hamund. Sigurth, however, outstripped all his brothers, and it is a well-known fact that he was the noblest of all warrior princes, and the very model of a king in heathen times.

At that time, Regin, the son of Hreithmar, had also come to King Hjalprek. He was a dwarf in stature, but there was no-one more cunning than he. He was a wise man, but malign and skilled in magic. Regin taught Sigurth many things and was devoted to him. He told him about his birth and his wondrous adventures.

And when I had been there a little while, I entered Sigurth's service like many others. He was very popular with everybody, because he was friendly and unassuming, and generous to all.

V.[°] It chanced one day that we came to Regin's house and Sigurth was made welcome there. Then Regin spoke these verses:

The son of Sigmund cometh to our hall,

A valiant warrior. It must needs befall

That I, less doughty and oppressed with age,

Shall fall a victim to his wolfish rage.

But I will cherish Yngvi's valorous heir,

Since Fate hath sent him hither to our care,

Train him to be, in valour and in worth,

The mightiest and most famous prince on earth.

At this time, Sigurth was constantly in Regin's company. Regin told him much about Fafnir—how he dwelt upon Gnitaheith in the form of a serpent, and also of his wondrous size. Regin made for Sigurth a sword called Gram. It was so sharp that when he thrust it into the River Rhine it cut in two a flock of wool which he had dropped into the river and which was drifting down stream, cutting it just as clean as it did the water itself. Later on, Sigurth clove Regin's stithy with the sword. After that Regin urged Sigurth to slay his brother Fafnir and Sigurth recited this verse:

The sons of Hunding would laugh loud and high,

Who shed the life-blood of King Eylimi,

If that his grandson bold should more desire

Rings of red gold than vengeance for his sire.

After that Sigurth made ready an expedition to attack the sons of Hunding; and King Hjalprek gave him many men and some warships. Hamund, Sisurth's brother, was with him on this venture, and so was Regin the dwarf. I was present too, and they called me Nornagest. King Hjalprek had got to know me when he was in Denmark with Sigmund the son of Völsung. At that time, Sigmund was married to Borghild, but they parted because Borghild killed Sinfjötli the son of Sigmund by poison. Then Sigmund went south to the land of the Franks and married Hjördis, the daughter of King Eylimi. The sons of Hunding slew him, so Sigurth had both his father and grandfather to avenge.

Helgi, the son of Sigmund, who was called Hundingsbani, was the brother of Sigurth who was afterwards called Fafnisbani. Helgi, Sigurth's brother, had slain King Hunding and three of his sons, Eyjulf, Hervarth, and Hjörvarth, but Lyngvi and his two remaining brothers, Alf and Heming, escaped. They were exceedingly famous for exploits and accomplishments of every kind; but Lyngvi surpassed all his brothers. They were very skilled in magic. They had reduced many petty kings to subjection, and slain many champions, and burnt many cities. They had worked the greatest havoc with their raids in Spain and in the land of the Franks. But at that time the Imperial Power had not yet been transferred to the regions north of the Alps. The sons of Hunding had seized the realm which had belonged to Sigurth in the land of the Franks, and they had very large forces there.

VI.[°] Now I must tell you how Sigurth prepared for battle against the sons of Hunding. He had got together a large and well-armed host, and Regin was a mighty man in the councils of the force. He had a sword which was called Rithil and which he had forged himself. Sigurth asked Regin to lend him the sword. He did so, begging him to slay Fafnir when he should return from this adventure, and this Sigurth promised to do.

After that we sailed away south along the coast, and then we met with a great storm raised by witchcraft, and many believed that it had been stirred up by the sons of Hunding. After this we hugged the shore somewhat more closely, and then we saw a man on a rocky promontory which jutted out from the cliffs. He wore a green cloak and dark breeches, and had high laced boots on his feet, and carried a spear in his hand. This man addressed us in the following stanza:

What folk are ye who ride the sea-king's steed,

Mounting the lofty billows, and proceed

Athwart the tossing main? Drenched is your sail,

Nor can your ships against the wind prevail.

Regin replied:

Hither come we with Sigurth o'er the foam,

Whom ocean breezes blow to our last home.—

Full soon the breakers, higher than the prow

Will sink our 'ocean-steeds'; but who art thou?

The man in the cloak replied:

Hnikar the name men did for me employ,

Young Völsung, when I gave the raven joy

Of carnage. Call me either of the two—

Fjölnir or Feng, but let me fare with you.

Then we steered towards the land and the wind fell immediately; and Sigurth bade the man come on board. He did so, and a fair breeze sprang up. The man sat down at Sigurth's feet and was very friendly, asking if Sigurth would like to hear some advice from him. Sigurth said that he would, and added that he had an idea that Hnikar could give people very helpful advice if he were willing to turn it to their advantage. Then Sigurth said to the man in the cloak:

O Hnikar, since you know the destiny

Of gods and men, declare this unto me.—

Which are the omens that should most delight

When swords are swinging and a man must fight?

Hnikar replied:

Many propitious signs, if men could know,

Appear when swords are swinging to and fro.

I hold a warrior has a trusty guide

When a dark raven hovers at his side.

I hold it too for a propitious sign

If men to make a journey should design,

And, coming out of doors, see close at hand

Two gallant warriors in the pathway stand.

And if you hear beneath the rowan tree

A howling wolf, the sound spells luck to thee,

And luck shall helmed warriors bring to thee,

If thou such warriors art the first to see.

Facing the sinking and late shining light

Of the Moon's sister, warriors should not fight.

Victory is theirs who, eager for the fray,

Can clearly see to order their array.

I hold it no occasion for delight

When a man stumbles as he goes to fight;

For guileful spirits dog him on his way

With mischief-bearing looks throughout the fray

A man of wisdom, as each day goes past,

Washes, and combs his hair, and breaks his fast.

He knows not where by evening he may be.—

Stumbling is bad luck, boding ill to thee.

And after that we sailed southwards along the coast of Holstein and to the east of Friesland, and there we landed. The sons of Hunding heard at once of our expedition and gathered an army; and they soon had a larger force than we had, and when we encountered them there was a great battle. Lyngvi was the most valiant of the brothers in every onset, though they all fought bravely. Sigurth's attack was so fierce that everyone shrank before him, when they saw that they were threatened by the sword Gram. There was no need to reproach Sigurth with lack of courage. And when he and Lyngvi met, they exchanged many blows and fought with the greatest valour. Then there was a lull in the battle, for people turned to watch the single combat. For a long time neither of them was able to inflict a wound on the other, so skilled in arms were they.

Then Lyngvi's brothers made a fierce attack and slew many of our men, while others took to flight. Then Hamund, Sigurth's brother, rushed to meet them, and I joined him, and then there was another encounter.

The end of the affair between Sigurth and Lyngvi was that Sigurth made him prisoner and had him fettered. And when Sigurth joined us, matters very soon changed. Then the sons of Hunding fell and all their host; but then night was coming on. And when day dawned, Hnikar had vanished, and he was never seen again. We came to the conclusion that it must in reality have been Othin.

A discussion then took place as to what death Lyngvi should suffer; Regin counselled that the 'blood eagle' should be carved on his back. Then I handed to Regin his sword and with it he carved Lyngvi's back till he had severed the ribs from the spine; and then he drew out the lungs. Thus died Lyngvi with great courage.

Then Regin said:

Full seldom has a bolder warrior

Reddened the earth than Sigmund's murderer.

Hugin he feasted. Now with biting sword

The 'bloody eagle' on his back is scored.

Great spoil was taken there. Sigurth's sailors got the whole of it because he would not take any himself. The clothes and weapons taken were worth much gold.

Afterwards Sigurth slew Fafnir, and Regin also, because Regin had intended to deal treacherously with him. Sigurth took Fafnir's gold and rode away with it, and from that time on he was called Fafnisbani.

After that he rode up to Hindarheith where he found Brynhild. What passed between them is told in the story of Sigurth Fafnisbani.

VII.[°] Later on Sigurth married Guthrun the daughter of King Gjuki and then stayed for a while with his brothers-in-law, the sons of Gjuki. I returned to the North with Sigurth and was with him in Denmark, and I was also with him when Sigurth Hring sent his brothers-in-law, the sons of Gandalf, to Gunnar and Högni, the sons of Gjuki, and demanded that they should pay him tribute, threatening them with invasion in case they refused. But they decided to defend their country. Thereupon Gandalf's sons challenged the sons of Gjuki to a pitched battle on the frontier, and then returned home; but the sons of Gjuki asked Sigurth Fafnisbani to go to battle with them, and he agreed to do so. I was still with Sigurth at that time. Then we sailed again northwards along the coast of Holstein and landed at a place called Jarnamotha. Not far from the landing place hazel-wood poles had been set up to mark where the fight was to take place.

Then we saw many ships sailing from the north under the command of the sons of Gandalf. Then the two hosts charged one another fiercely. Sigurth Hring was not there, because he had to defend his own land, Sweden, against the inroads of the Kurir and Kvænir. Sigurth was a very old man at that time. Then the forces came into collision, and there was a great battle and much slaughter. The sons of Gandalf fought bravely, for they were exceptionally big and strong.

In that host there appeared a big strong man who made such slaughter of men and horses that no-one could withstand him, for he was more like a giant than a man. Gunnar bade Sigurth go and attack the scoundrel, adding that as things were, there would be no success. So Sigurth made ready to encounter the mighty man, and some others went with him, but most of them were far from eager.

We quickly came upon the mighty man, and Sigurth asked him his name and whence he came. He said that he was Starkath, the son of Storverk, and that he came from the North, from Fenhring in Norway. Sigurth said that he had heard reports of him and generally little to his credit, adding that no mercy ought to be shown towards such people.

Starkath said: "Who is this man who casts insults in my teeth?"

Sigurth told him who he was.

Starkath said: "Are you called Fafnisbani?"

Sigurth said he was.

Then Starkath sought to escape, but Sigurth pursued him and swung aloft the sword Gram and struck him on the jaw with the hilt so hard that two molars fell out of his mouth; it was a stunning blow.

Then Sigurth bade the cur take himself off, and Starkath went away, and I picked up one of the teeth and carried it off with me. It is now used on a bell-rope at Lund in Denmark and weighs seven ounces; and people go and look at it there as a curiosity.

As soon as Starkath had run away, the sons of Gandalf took to flight, and we captured great booty; and after that Sigurth went home to his realm and remained there for a while.

VIII.[°] A short time after, we heard that Starkath had committed a foul murder, slaying King Ali in his bath.

It chanced one day that as Sigurth Fafnisbani was riding to some gathering or other, he rode into a muddy pool, and his horse Grani leapt up so wildly that his saddle-girth burst asunder and the buckle fell to the ground. And when I saw where it lay shining in the mud, I picked it up and handed it to Sigurth; but he said that I might keep it. It was that very piece of gold that you were looking at a short time ago. Then Sigurth got down from his horse, and I rubbed it down and washed the mud off it; and I pulled a lock of hair out of its tail as a proof of its great size."

Then Guest showed the lock and it was seven ells long.

King Olaf said: "I think your stories are very entertaining."

Everybody praised his stories and his talent.

Then the King wanted him to tell them much more about the adventures he had met with on his travels. So Guest told them many amusing stories till late in the evening. It was then time to go to bed; but next morning the King sent for Guest, and wanted to talk to him still further.

The King said: "I can't quite make out your age and how you can be old enough to have been present when these events took place. You will have to tell another story so as to make us better acquainted with things of this kind."

Guest replied: "I suspected before that you would want to hear another of my stories, if I told you what had happened about the gold."

"You must certainly tell me some more," replied the King.

IX.[°] "I must tell you then," Guest began, "that I went north to Denmark and there settled down on my estate, for my father had died a short time before; and a little later I heard of the death of Sigurth and the sons of Gjuki, and I felt that that was news indeed."

"What was the cause of Sigurth's death?" asked the King.

Guest replied: "It is generally believed that Guthorm the son of Gjuki ran a sword through him while he was asleep in bed with Guthrun. On the other hand, Germans say that Sigurth was slain out in the forest. In the Guthrúnar-rætha again it is stated that Sigurth and the sons of Gjuki had ridden to a gathering and that they slew him then. But one thing is agreed by all—that they set on him when he was down and off his guard, and that they were guilty of gross treachery towards him."

Then one of the retinue asked:

"How did Brynhild behave then?"

Guest answered: "Brynhild then slew seven of her slaves and five handmaidens, and ran herself through with a sword, commanding that she should be taken to the pyre along with these people and burned beside Sigurth. This was done, one pile being made for Sigurth and another for Brynhild, and he was burned first, and then Brynhild. She was taken in a chariot with a canopy of velvet and silk which was all ablaze with gold, and thus was she burnt."

Then Guest was asked if Brynhild had chanted a lay after she was dead. He replied that she had, and they asked him to recite it if he could.

Then Guest said: "As Brynhild was being driven to the pyre on the way to Hell, she was brought near some cliffs where an ogress dwelt. The ogress was standing outside the doors of her cave and wore a skin kirtle and was of a blackish hue. She carried a long faggot in her hand and cried:

'This will I contribute to your burning, Brynhild. It would have been better if you had been burned while you were still alive, before you were guilty of getting such a splendid man as Sigurth Fafnisbani slain. I was always friendly to him and therefore I shall attack you in a reproachful song which will make you hated by everybody who hears what you have done.'

After that Brynhild and the ogress chanted to one another.

The ogress sang as follows:

Thou shalt not be suffered to pass through my courts

With their pillars of stone in my mansion drear,—

Better far wert thou busied at home with thy needle!

Not thine is the husband thou followest here.

Inconstant soul, why comest thou hither?

From the land of the Romans why visit'st thou me?

Full many a wolf hast thou made be partaker

Of the life-blood of men who were butchered by thee!

Then cried Brynhild:

Upbraid me no more from thy rock bound dwelling

For battles I fought in the days of old.—

Thou wilt not be deemed to be nobler of nature

Than I, wheresoever our story is told!

The Ogress:

In an evil hour, O Buthli's daughter,

In an evil hour wert thou brought to birth.—

The Sons of Gjuki thou gavest to slaughter,

Their noble dwellings thou rased'st to earth.

Brynhild:

A true account, if thou carest to hearken,

O thou lying soul, will I tell to thee;—

How empty of love and o'ershadowed by falsehood

The life that the Gjukings had destined for me!

Atli's daughter was I, yet the monarch bold-hearted

Assigned me a home neath the shade of the oak.

But twelve summers old, if thou carest to hearken,

Was this maid when her vows to the hero she spoke.

Hjalmgunnar the Old, of the Gothic nation,

Great chief, on the pathway to Hell did I speed;

And victory granted to Auth's young brother;

Then Othin's dread fury was roused at my deed.

Then a phalanx of bucklers did Othin set round me

On Skatalund's heights, shields crimson and white,—

Bade only that prince break the slumber that bound me

Who knew naught of terror, nor shrank from the fight.

And flames high towering and fiercely raging

Round my Southern hall did he set in a ring: