The Fall of the Greutungs

Es gibt keine erhaltene schriftliche Zeile gotischer Poesie.

— Elfriede Stutz: Gotische Literaturdenkmäler 1966.

No one, as far as I know, went on to reconstruct the first Burgundian Nibelung-story, the first Ostrogothic Ermanaric lay, or the Danish Ur-Beowulf; but such thoughts were in many minds.

— T. A. Shippey: The Road to Middle Earth 1982.

Wiljau Arþura, liuþe skapjand sunjamma, awiliudon in waurde bleiþjaize is, jah Walhahrabna jah Þiudana in hilpos ize jah garaihteinais. — P.T. 2007.

Frumei fitja – Fitt I

Ussandiþ was waurd,

þatei wulfs gaswalt.

Urrunnun Airjus

and allata land.

Urrisun Aistjus

jah Idumingos.

Maurginis, manwjai,

Meringos bidun.

Wens was in weihsa,

ana wairilom faheþs.

Ussandiþ was waurd.

Ni was sunjein.

Word went out that the wolf was dead. Messengers fared forth throughout the land. The Ests rose up, and the Idumings. The Merings, ready, awaited morning. There was hope in hamlet and joy on lips. Word went out. It was not true.

Lang mel galiþan.

Long time ago.

So was ubila wiko

allaim alja hrabna.

Gahausida Haima,

þatei hairus gabiti,

Haiþika jah Haþula,

jah qemun af hlainam dalaþ.

Fairraþro þan

af fairgunjam,

gumnans alafunsai,

du Gutþiudai,

Aþalins inkunjans,

ibukai gasnewun.

Iþ galgin ridun

Gunþirunos,

afslahanai stainam,

sunjus juþan bai.

Ill was that week for all but the raven. Haima heard that the sword had bitten, Haithika and Hathula, and came down from the hills. From afar now, from off the mountains, men most eager, to Gothland, Athala’s compatriots, hastened home. But upon the gallows rode Gudrun’s, slain with stones, sons both by then.

Wasuþ-þan kuni kunje.

Now, there was a kin of kins.

Abin airknamma,

(Nist izwis þizos aglons þaurfts.),

qenai qainondein,

fraqistjan ni skuluþ.

Balþans izwis, hva boteiþ,

jabai barn ugkar

hlasata in atiska,

haluþs, jus gadauþeiþ.

My husband true (This anguish need not be.), weeping wife, ye must not kill. What good will it do you bold ones if our child, happy in the field, ye heroes slay.

Þeinis þiuþeigis

unsis þaurfts ist usqiman;

qenai qainondein

fraqistjan skulum.

Barn igqar, hva uns boteiþ

gabrannjan ni witum,

sunu þana taitan,

iþ gataujam swa.

That fine man of thine we must needs kill, weeping wife we have to slay. We know not what good it will do us to burn your child, your merry son, but that is what we shall do.

Kuni was simle kunje.

There was once a kin of kins.

Fairhvjos þan faiflokun

ni fawai walisans

ana Danapris staþam,

dairnjai saurgai,

ana Gutþiudai,

Gautis knodais,

wenida ana Aujom,

Augeis kunjis,

usbeisneigai

du andja þis.

There bewailed then not a few folk their dear ones on the banks of the Dniepr, in secret sorrow, in Gothland, of Gaut’s people, hoped in Aujom the Watermeadows, of Augis’s kin, patiently for an end to that.

Þata was auk þiudans

þiuþeigosts gibom;

þata was auk hilmje

hindarweisosts.

For that was the king most kind in gifts; for that was the sliest of sovereigns.

Riqis was in razna,

rauks af haurjam.

Skinun augona

þis armlausins,

fadis framaldris,

af flatja dalaþ.

Þwairhana þangil

þuls ni latida.

There was darkness in the hall, fumes from the fires. Shone the eyes of the armless one, aged lord, down from the dais. Moody monarch, his minister did not halt him.

Inna qam Ibra

jah Awimundus

miþ muldai wigis

jah minþiladrupam.

Indrauhtjans du im

insehvun Imrikins banins.

“Uzda jah miþ agjai

armaions wanai

gatalzidedum, frauja,

þans fijands þeinans.”

In came Ibra and Awimund with the grime of the road and the foam of the bit. The household troop of Imrika’s slayer turned their gaze upon them. “With point and with edge, merciless, we have chastised, sire, those foes of thine.”

Iþ ni was fullafahiþ

ize fauramaþlja.

“Swikalai mis wesun

sunjus Gautis!

Duhve her ni haba

haubida þize warge?”

But their leader was not satisfied: “Faithless to me were the sons of Gaut! Why have I not here these felons’ heads.”

Jah rinno rann

uf razna framis,

jah brunna sutis,

iþ braitrs was munþs,

faur þaurp jah hugs,

so þiudaahva.

And the river ran on below the hall (sweet the spring, but the mouth was bitter), by field and acre, the mighty river.

Lang mel galiþan.

Long time ago.

*

Anþara fitja – Fitt II

Wasuþ-þan þiuda suma

þaþro fairra,

(soh was kuni kunje),

qrammiþai bigrabana,

balþa jah hvassa

badwos funsa.

Grimmiþai allai

waurþun grimmozans.

Now, there was a people far from there (That was a kin of kins.), fenced about by damp, harsh and bold, keen for conflict. Fiercer they became than all fierceness.

Bisitanai salidedun

saiwim langa,

alja ni gafrehun

alde barna,

waiht ni wissedun

bi wundan gulþ,

nih gahausidedun huhraus

huzde aiw nauhþanuh,

sweþauh ei afar

im þata warþ kunþ.

Surrounded by swamps they long had their dwelling. Of other sons of men no record reached their ears. No whit of awareness had they of twisted gold, nor ever yet had they heard of hunger for hoards, though afterwards that became known to them.

Þata was leitila waihts,

liþau unswinþa;

af hairdai hvarb

hinda aina.

Jah seiþu warþ.

Saurgandei warþ.

Fralusana in fanja,

si rann framis.

It was a little thing, weak of limb; a hind wandered from the herd alone. It grew late. She grew sad. Lost in the fen, she ran on.

Ainata iddja

þata airpo dius,

qam maurnando

þairh Mairqjan widu,

haglakaurnam

kaldaim draibiþ

und dauþu nehv,

faur diup wato.

Harduba was anaprangan.

Si mahta halis gangan.

Bisnau faur Salwo swumfsl.

Þata suti ni was,

sa staþs, þarei niqis

nahtam laikiþ,

sa staþs, þarei wulfs

ni wili wraton ufta.

Alone she went, the tawny creature, came anxiously through Mirkwood, by hailstones driven nigh unto death, by deep water. She was hard pressed. She could hardly walk. Sped by the Dark Mere. Pleasant it was not, that place where the things of the deep cavort by night, that place where the wolf is loath to linger.

Gaþ-þan-frehum, hvaiwa

(Si mahta halis þairhsaihvan.),

fram Filumera,

frasta Gadareikis,

bandjom jah miþ banjom

balwidos wesun

handugos, hunslfrodos

haljarunos.

Now, we have heard of how (She could hardly see.) at Filimer’s hand, Gadaric’s child, they were tormented with bonds and with wounds: the wise witches, knowledgeable about sacrifice.

Qinom kunnandeim

warþ kindins hvass,

waurhta ijos du wargam,

weisa Hraide.

Ni andnemun þos brudeis at reik

bleiþein in waihtai.

Jah Wulþuwiseis

habaidedun winnan in þis.

Cunning women the king grew harsh to, made outlaws of them, leader of the Hred-Goths. Those ladies got no mercy from the ruler. And the glorious Visigoths would suffer for that.

Gardins bigetun

miþ gramaim ahmam

aitrakaldans

aurahjom in,

þiubjo þahtedun

bi þatei du þaurftai fairrann.

Venom-cold homes they found in the tombs with angry ghosts, and in stealth bethought themselves of what was needed.

Jah miþ unhulþam

arþu nemun,

sundro salidedun

samana miþ skohslam,

fram þammei ijos drauhtins usdraif

(Þata was doms sleideis.),

gatawida tibrmaujos,

trudan hreimawigans,

bauan brinnandeins

baurgim fairra,

wraiþein, iþ raigjon

rinnan lailotun.

Nahts neiþhardus;

izos nasos fraus smalos.

And with fiends they dwelt, lodged apart with demons, since the commander drove them out (That was a dire judgement.), made the oblation-maidens to tread the rime-roads, dwell far from towns, burning with wrath, but the doe they let run. A hate-hard night; froze her little nose.

Aþþan sweþauh qam air uhtwon

(abraba was lasiwa)

dairnjos usdrustins

at Danapris staþam,

jah qam und andi

at Aujom dalaþ,

jah qam bi spedistin

(spaurde afmauida,

galdram ufhabaida),

at Griutungam,

und Hailago hlaiw,

þarei und hita standiþ.

And still, for all that, she came in the early dawn (She was sorely exhausted.), by hidden tracks, to the banks of the Dniepr; and came in the end down to Aujos the Watermeadows, and came at last (by leagues wearied, by spells upheld) to the land of the Greutungs, unto the Holy Howe, there where it stands to this day.

Þaruh dauns woþi

urrais af wanga.

Iþ luftulukarn

ana landa warm

grundubauandam

du gamana skain,

milhmane skeima,

mannam du botai

in airdagam

swaswe ibno nauh.

And behold, a sweet scent arose from the plain, while sky’s candle warm upon the land, for the delight of dwellers upon Earth, did shine, lamp of the clouds, to the good of mankind, in days of yore as even yet.

Lausqiþra bi lagu

si laubis naut,

jah wato bigat

jah wen bigat

jah gras manag,

þarei groni wohs

in maurgina þar

midjungardis.

Jah qam aftra

þata airpo dius,

unte gang gaman,

jah izai gaumiþ warþ.

Jah nu sa fairhvus

hva fairniza ist.

Empty-bellied by the beck, she enjoyed her fill of foliage, and found water, and found hope and much grass where it grew green in the morning, there, of the world. And she returned, the tawny creature, for she remembered the way, and was seen. And now this world is somewhat older.

*

Þridjo fitja – Fitt III

Sildaleiko

warþ sauþs þizai naht,

iþ hlautatains

taiknida hreiþa,

þauhjabai ni windhun

witans ufkunþedun.

Wondrous went the offering that night, and the lot that fell betokened a storm, though the wise could sense no wind.

“Ga-u-hva-saihvis, guma, gangan

jah and gang skewjan,

waihts unkunþos,

aiþþau wairans aufto?

Mildeis auk rudniþ

jah mairqus warþ

suns seljaizos

sunnons broþar.”

“Doest thou see ought, friend, stepping, upon the way walking, strange beings, or men perhaps? For all reddened grows the gentle brother, and clouded suddenly, of the kindly sun.”

“Ik glaggwo ni wait,

hva and gang skewjan,

waihts unkunþos

aiþþau wairans, gasaihva;

iþ þugkeiþ mis,

ei þiuda farai

ufar þaurp jah hugs

jah faur þiudaahva,

fulk faiknaswinþ

jah funs badwos.”

“I know not clearly what upon the way walking, strange beings, or men, I see; but it seems to me that a nation fares over field and acre and down by the great river, a host mighty in malice and keen for conflict.”

Ussandiþ was waurd

in swartai naht.

Uhtwo swe azgons

austaþro qam.

Iþ dauþudiups

drunjus haurne

jah þuthaurne

hausiþs was goljan

þana dag domis

ana Danapris staþam,

gaizagrewata mel

ana Gutþiudai,

hveila hardja

hilmis jah brunjons.

Then word went out in black night. Dawn like ashes approached from the east. Deep as death, the din of horns and trumpets was heard to greet that day of judgement on the banks of the Dniepr, a spear-grey hour in Gothland, a hard hour of helm and byrnie.

Ubuþ-þan-wopida wair

ana waddjau baurgs,

Ibra sa junga

(sah was Alisins sunus):

“Mel ist nu gamunan,

þizeei at midau sworum.

Hveits auk skildus

skulds ist usgildan.

Und gibom gunþja

usgildan skulum.

Baugans berum

bairhtans ana armim,

daroþuns at dauhtai.

Niu gadaursum,

þan hiuhma atist

her ana wanga,

fulk unfraisan

jah faurhtjando?

Galaisidedum faurhtjan uns

filusna manne.

Uldinis usdreibam

arbjans us landa!”

Now out cried a man, Ibra the young, on the fastness wall (He was Alisa’s son.): “It is time now to recall those oaths which we swore at mead-drinking. Shining shield must be repayed. For gifts we must pay with war. Bright rings we have borne on our arms, spears to a feast. Do we not dare when a multitude is present here upon the plain, a force untried and fearful? Many men have we taught to dread us. Let us drive Uldin’s heirs from the land.”

Iþ Audika qaþ

(Arans galesun sik.)

hauhai stibnai

jah faura harja raiþ:

“Afdumbn, Ibra,

alajunga þign!

Nis frasta mais.

Waitei þu þuk froknjana mant?

Hvana, dwala, ahjis,

þanei usdreiban mageis?

But Audika said (Eagles gathered.) in a loud voice, and rode before the host, “Be thou silent, Ibra, warrior so young! Thou art yet no more than a boy. Perhaps thou thinkest thyself brave? Whom, fool, doest thou imagine that thou might drive out?

Gahaftidedun sik auk Hunim

hairizans markos.

Balþs Balambair

miþ seinaim brandam qam;

weisa jains uf waddjau

ana wigja nu sitiþ

miþ muldai wigis

jah miþ minþiladrupam.

Waldands ist þeins wulfeins

woþs allandjo;

nist þata fulgin

fairhvje barnam.

Þana kaldan ni karist

kaisar þeina.

Maurþrida Meringans

managizans, þau Huneis.

Jai, hveits skildus

skulds ist usgildan,

jah und gibom gunþja,

usgildan skulum,

jah ingibam,

und andi nu.”

For the dukes of the border have joined the Huns. Bold Balamber with his blades has come, sits now beneath thy walls, yon chief upon charger with the grime of the road and the foam of the bit. Thy wolvish master is mad entirely; it is well known to all the sons of men. That cold kaiser cares not for thee. He has murdered more of us than have the Huns. Aye, shining shield must be repayed, and for gifts war we must pay, and for poisons now, to the last penny.”

Iþ is anduh-hof,

airls af waddjau:

“Hva unsis kara

aiþþau Amalingans,

þauhjabai gutane gulþ

uswok gairnein þus,

aiþþau sijai afmarzeins

uta ana markom?

Hlohjada ik haldis,

þatei ana hilmam nu

hairus meins skal singwan,

hairznakasa gatairan,

jah þatei rigke meins gais

skal ribja bitan,

jah þatei untriggweins

jus nimiþ allai laun.

But the other retorted, warrior from the wall, “What concern is it of ours, or of the Amalings, though Gothic gold has stirred thy greed, or treachery out upon our borders be? Rather it gladdens me that my sword on helms shall sing and shatter brain-pots, and that my spear is to bite men’s ribs, and that ye all shall receive the reward for your disloyalty.”

Þanuh Audika qaþ,

unfaurhts haluþs,

handugs jah haþusnutrs,

du harjatugin:

“Ni wesun swaleika

waurda attins,

þan weis air uhtwon

usiddjejum

us alþeis baurg,

Alisins, geza.

Nist liufs imma

allwalda þeins,

fram þammei snuza seina

uf snaiwa gafalh

jah barnis barn

ana bel gawarft.

Nih gairnida gunþjos

gutane kindins;

fraiwis ju Gautis

faurstasseis gadraus,

sagjis sarwe laus,

sis silbin usqam.

Faura naht, niþjis,

skal ana nawihaiþjai

hugihus haluþs,

hauhhairt kolnan.

Then quoth Audika, fearless fighter, wise and war-shrewd, to the general: “Such were not father’s words when we came yesterday in the dawn early from old Alisa’s stronghold. Thy supreme ruler is not dear to him since he laid his daughter-in-law to rest beneath the snow and thou didst cast his grandson upon the pyre. Nor did the governor of the Goths wish for war; the overlord of Gaut’s seed has already fallen, a defenceless man, took his own life. Before night, kinsman, even thy proud hero’s thought-house must, upon this heath of corpses, cool.”

Iþ Ibra hloh,

aifr waurd usbar:

“Balþs warst nu, broþar,

jah bredaba hva.

Hvar wast, þan usqemum

qenai þeinai

jah biþe frasta in fon,

frumabaura, ik atwarp?

Hilms gulþahrudans

ni sat ana haubida im.

Ni unþaþlauhun þan þo,

nih gaþliuham weis.”

But Ibra laughed, answered sharply: “Bold hast thou become, brother, and rather suddenly. Where wast thou when we slew thy wife, or when I cast thy child, firstborn, into the fire? No gilt helm sate upon their heads. They fled not then, and nor shall we.”

“Jus þan,” sa qaþ, “airlos

allai gadauþniþ,”

modags manna

ana marhis baka,

jah meki uslauk,

maiþm fadreinais,

þanei Uzdagais

ufar unþjos þaka

(blindans gailida wulfans)

du waihjon atbar,

iþ Botareþs

ufar þo brugja, sei draus.

Þata was wulþags wair.

Nist wigs ibuks.

“Then all ye doughty ones,” he said, “shall die,” wrothful rider, and drew his sword, that heirloom which Uzdagais bore over the wave’s thatch (He gave cheer to the blind wolves.) to battle, and Botareth over the bridge that fell. That was a fine man. There is no way back.

“Ga-nu-riqizjadau himins strelom

Humilins magiwe!

Inreiradau grundus jah gang

jah all gawi hrussam,

hveitaim jah swartaim

ana harjawiga!

Fraweitam þan þans walisans

afar wintruns swa filu!

Agja aitreina,

Iuþins laiba,

brand meinana þana fairnjan,

bloþis þaurseiþ;

maiþms melafaihs

mannanhun freideiþ.

Managa tagra

ni drausja du muldai in þis.”

“So let the heavens be blotted with the bolts of Humila’s boys. Let the ground quiver, and the roads and the whole country, with our steeds, the white and the black on the highway. Let us then avenge those dear ones after so many winters. This envenomed blade, heirloom of Iutha, my ancient brand, thirsts for blood; that inlaid gift, none will it spare. Not many tears shall I let fall to earth on that account.”

Ni andhof sprauto,

iþ qaþ bi spedistin,

Ibra sa junga,

jah ask undgraip:

“Jai, wairþan magun

waurda þeina.

Wai þan unsis!

Wai Griutungam!

Hvaþro gahabam hairurigk

hardjana swe Unwen,

hvaþro þana ibnan

Airpamarhin,

Ansilin aiþþau Analin

aiþþau Austragutin?

Ins ni aiw saihvam;

eis ni aiw qimand,

þande airþa wisiþ

jah iuphimins.

Unsara auk usliþun allai

þai iusistans,

iþ aflifnand mans ainai

þai minnistans.

He was not quick to reply, but quoth at last, Ibra the young, and seized his spear, “Indeed they may come to pass, these words of thine. Woe then to us! Woe to the Greutungs! Where shall we find a swordsman tough as Unwen, where Erpamarha’s equal, Ansila’s or Anala’s or Ostrogotha’s? We shall never see them. They will never come, so long as Earth lasts and High Heaven. For the best of us are all gone, and only the least will remain.

Jah wairþam wainah kuni,

wratonds, asnjos,

waurpanai du windam

wulþaus lausai.

Nist nu þizos aldais qius

ainshun manne,

saei fulk unsar,

habaiþ frijata saihvan,

nih barna is

nih barna ize.

In silubr weis sijum

swa frabauhtai.

Wairþai þan ushahans hvazuh

(Halka unsara sigisa!),

saei frabugjiþ oþal

aljakunjaim.

Baugabrutja mik baþ,

ei þizai baurg witau.

Ik fairra ni mag.

Sa was auk frauja meins.”

And we shall become a wretched people, wanderers, hirelings, cast to the winds, without glory. There is none now living of this generation who will see our folk free, nor his offspring, nor theirs. Thus are we sold for silver. So let any man be hanged (In vain our victories!) who sells off our homeland to strangers. My chief bade me hold this fort. I cannot leave; he was my lord.”

Iþ Audika qaþuh,

aihv spauram haihaggw,

“Ik þuk nu faigjana wait,

funsana haljos.

Du þaim airizam ju

aha þeins hvairbiþ.

Hva daug filu maþljan?

Mais letam skildu

skafta andhafjan!

Swa, broþar, skal wisan;

bota nist dwaliþos.”

But Audika said, spurred his horse, “I know now that thou art dead already and eager for thy grave. Thy mind wanders already to the ancestors. What use much talk? Rather let us have shield answer shaft. So shall it be, brother; there is no cure for foolishness.”

Rodida þan anþar

uzdakampja,

harjonds haswafahs

ana hahista:

“Sijaidu afhugidai?

Haurjamu þaurbum usdreiban,

sainjans du sakjon,

izwis us saliþwom ut?”

There spake then another vanguard warrior, some grey-haired harrier on horseback: “Are ye bewitched? With fires must we needs drive you, slow to strife, from out of your halls?”

“Þaurfts nist izwis haurje,

unte ni gaþlahsnam weis.

Daroþjus dunjandau

faura daurom gardis.”

“Of fires have ye no need, for we shall not be afrighted. Let darts rain down before the gate.”

Þlaigidedun þignos

þlainam in hansa.

Faura skarjai þairhskritun

skilduns askeis.

Gaizos gullun,

jah grewasnaga.

Gol gunþifugls,

swaswe gumans gadrusun.

Combattants let fly their barbs into the company. Before the troop, ash-shafted javelins sheared through shields. Spears whirred through the sky. Greycoat howled. War-bird crowed as men fell.

Baurd bluggwan was

brunamma hairau,

iþ hilms haggwans,

haþuwastjos jah.

Hune haurnabugans

dishnupun hari in twa.

Board was beaten with brown blade, and helm hewn; war-weeds also. The horn-bows of the Huns tore the host in two.

Rukun faura naht naweis

naqadai ana aidam;

anþarans ana airþai

arans nu distaurun,

falwans uf tunglam

swe timr skaban.

Hune wesun ana hallau

hleiþros stakidos.

Atsnewun du saliþwom

sagjos afar hildja,

iftumein uhtwon,

Airmanareikis.

Before night bodies smoked bare on balefires; others now eagles upon the earth did rend, pale under the stars like shaved timber. The tents of the Huns were pitched upon the rock. Next day at dawn to the halls they hastened (fighters after the fray)of Ermanaric.

Þata was auk þiudans

þiuþeigosts gibom;

þata was auk hilmje

hindarweisosts.

For that was the king most kind in gifts; for that was the sliest of sovereigns.

Jah ussandiþ was waurd,

þatei wulfs gaswalt.

Galaubja, þammei waiht ni was

wulþrais mannhun,

biþe saiwala brigus

fralailot us brustim.

Himins alls huliþs

harjis stubjau.

Mulda marhe

þo mildjon falh

(Þatainei naus nauh ains.)

niþjon menins.

Drugkana afar drauhtin

ni warþ þamma daga strawohun.

Riurjai waurþun rigkos

ana rohsnai baurgs,

bi Merjan stain

jah faur Mairqjan widu,

bi Hailago hlaiw,

ana harjawiga,

þaurpa jah hugsa,

jah in þiudaahvai.

And word went out that the wolf was dead. I doubt that it mattered a whit to any wight when the monarch let go the life from his breast. Heaven all veiled with the dust of the host. Dust of horses hid the mild (Just one more corpse.) kinswoman of the moon. No wake was drunk that day for a lord. Fighters rotted in the fortress yard, by the Famous Stone and the Dark Forest, round the Holy Howe, on the highroad, field and acre, and in the mighty river.

Lang mel galiþan.

Long time ago.

Falkan ik gasahv þar frijana

fiþro ana anza.

Haubiþ sein þata blindo

is wandida jah hidre, jah jaind,

ufar falwiskai.

Ik gasatida fotu in wig.

Unþaþlauhun þiujos.

Þeihvo in airþai.

Framis ni wili harpo,

ei si hausjaidau.

A falcon I saw there, free of feathers on its beam. It turned its blind head now this way, now that, above the cinders. I put my foot to the road. The servants had fled. Thunder in the earth. The harp does not want to be heard further.