Atlakviða en Grönlenzku, a reading
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Harmful content
Misogyny
1
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Hate speech
34
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Summary
In the first half of the 14th century, the Danish scholar Finner Johnson claimed that the two poems in the Atlecvitha and the Arlamor were written in the Greenland settlement of Atli, and that they were the work of a Christian poet.
Transcript
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Atlikwitha in Grunlindska, the Greenland lay of Atli.
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There are two Atli poems in the Curex Regis, the Atlecvitha, Lay of Atli, and the Arlamor, Ballad of Atli.
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The poems are not preserved or quoted in any other old manuscript, but they were extensively used by the compilers of the Vlsunga Saga.
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In the manuscript's superscription to each of these poems appears the word Greenland,
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which has given rise to a large amount of arguments.
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and in this case his statement proves no more than that in the period around 1300
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there was a tradition that these two poems originated in the Greenland settlement.
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The two Atli poems deal with substantially the same material.
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The visit of the sons of Gyuki to Atli's court, their deaths,
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and the subsequent revenge of their sister Guthrun, Atli's wife, on her husband.
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The shorter of the two, the Atla Kvitha, tells the story with little elaboration.
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The Atla Mol, with about the same narrative basis, adds many details.
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some of them apparently of the poet's invention,
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and with a romantic, not to say sentimental, quality quite lacking in the Atla Kvitha.
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Both poems are sharply distinguished from the rest of the collection by their metrical form,
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which is the Malahatr, used regularly also in the Harbar Slioth,
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employed consistently and smoothly in the Atlamal,
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and with a considerable mixture of what appears to be Furnisslag lines in C. Introduction in the Atlecvitha.
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It is altogether probable that both poems belong to the 11th century,
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the shorter Atlecvitha being generally dated from the first quarter thereof,
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and the longer Atlemal some 50 years or more later.
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In each case, the poet was apparently a Christian,
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In the Alamal, stanza 82, Guthrun expresses her readiness to die and go into another light.
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And in the Alakvitha, there is frequent use of mythological names,
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with an evident lack of understanding of their relation to the older gods.
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These facts fit the theory of a Greenland origin exceedingly well,
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for the Greenland settlement grew rapidly after the first explorations of Eirik the Red,
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which were in 982-985, and its most flourishing period was in the 11th century.
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The internal evidence, particularly in the case of the Atlema,
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points likewise to an origin remote from Iceland, Norway, and the Western Isles,
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and the two poems are sufficiently alike so that despite the efforts of Finner Johnson
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and others to separate them, assigning one to Greenland and the other to Norway or elsewhere.
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It seems probable that the manuscript statement is correct in both instances,
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and that the two Otley poems did actually originate in Greenland.
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An interesting account of this Greenland settlement is given in William Håvgård's
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Voyage of the Norsemen to America, published by the American Scandinavian Foundation in 1914.
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And an extraordinarily vivid picture of the sufferings of the early settlers
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appears in Maurice Hewlett's Torghils, taken from the Floamonaga saga.
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there is little that is distinctively Norse in either the Atla Kvitha or the Atla Mall.
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The story is the one outlined in the prose Drapnefrunga, largely based on these two poems,
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representing almost exclusively the southern blending of the Attila and Burgundian legends,
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In the Atlecvitha, indeed the word Burgundians is actually used.
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Sigrid's name appears but once in the Atlemall.
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Thus, the material goes directly back to its South Germanic origins,
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with little of the Norse making over which resulted in such extensive changes in most parts of the Sigrid's story.
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The general atmosphere, on the other hand, particularly in the Atlemall, is essentially Norse.
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As has been said, the Atalikvitha is materically in a chaotic state, the normal Malahatar lines being frequently interspersed with lines and even stanzas, which apparently are of the older Forneslog type.
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How much of this confusion is due to faulty transmission is uncertain,
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but it has been suggested that the composer of the Alakvitha made over in Malhattar an older Otli poem in Forneslog,
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That he worked on the basis of an older poem is indeed almost certain,
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For an older oral prose tradition, a far larger amount of distinctively Norse traits would unquestionably have crept in
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than are found in the material of the Atlikvitha.
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As for the Atlamal, here again the poet seems to have used an older poem as his basis,
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possibly the Atlikvitha itself, although in that case he must have had other material as well.
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for there are frequent divergences in such materials and matters as proper names.
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The translation of the Alicvita is rendered peculiarly difficult
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and above all by the exceptionally large number of words found nowhere else in Old Norse.
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The notes do not attempt to indicate all the varying suggestions made by editors and commentators
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as to the reconstruction of defective stanzas and the probable meanings of obscure passages.
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In cases which are purely or largely guesswork,
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the notes merely point out the uncertainty without cataloging the proposed solutions.
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Guthrun, Gyuki's daughter, avenged her brothers, as has become well known.
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She slew first Atle's sons, and thereafter she slew Atle,
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and burned the hall with his whole company.
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Atli sent of old Tugunar, a keen-witted rider, Caninfroth, did men call him.
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To Gyuki's home came he, and to Gunar's dwelling, With benches round the hearth, and to the
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Then the followers, hiding their falseness, all drank Their wine in the war-hall of the
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And Gnithroth spake loudly, his words were crafty, the hero from the south on the high
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bench sitting, Now Watley has sent me to his errand to ride,
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On my bit-champing steed through Mirkwood the secret,
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With helms round the hearth, And at least home seek.
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Shields shall ye choose there, And shafts made of ash wood,
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Gold-adorned helmets, And slaves out of Hunland,
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Silver-gilt saddle-cloths, Shirts of bright scarlet,
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With lances and spears too, And bit-champing steeds.
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The field shall be given you of wide gnithith, With loud ringing lances and stems gold o'erlaid,
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Treasures full huge in the home of Dump, And the mighty forest that Mirkwood is called.
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His head turned Gunnar, and to Hogni he said, What doth thy counsel, young hero, when such
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Such things we hear, No gold do I know on Gnitahe flying,
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We have seven halls, each of swords is full, And all of gold is the hilt of each.
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My steed is the swiftest, my sword is sharpest, My bows adorned benches, my bernies are golden,
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My harem is the brightest that came from Kiara's hall.
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Mine own is better than all the Hun's treasure.
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What seeks she to say, That she sends us a ring,
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In the red ring a hair Of the heath-dweller found I.
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Like shall our road be, if we ride on this journey.
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Not eager were his comrades, nor the men of his kin,
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The beakers all golden shalt thou bring to the warriors.
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The wolves then shall rule, the wealth of the Nifrungs,
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Wolves aged and grey-hued, if Gunnar is lost,
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And black-coated bears with rinding teeth bite,
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A following gallant fell forth with the ruler, yet they wept as their home with the hero
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they left, and the little air of Hogni called out loudly,
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Then let the bold heroes, their bit-champing horses, on the mountains gallop and through
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Markwood the secret. All Hoonland was shaken, Where the hard-souled ones rode, On the whip-fearers
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Fared they, though fields that were green. Then they saw Otley's halls, and his watchtowers
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high, And the walls so lofty stood the warriors of Boothley. The hall of the southrons, with
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The seats was surrounded, With targets bound and shields full bright.
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Mid weapons and lances did Atli his wine, In the war hall drink, without were his watchmen.
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For Gunnar they waited, if forth he should go, With their ringing spears they would fight
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This their sister saw, As soon as her brothers had entered the hall.
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Little ale had she drunk, Betrayed art thou Gunnar, what guard hast thou
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From the hall flee swiftly, Brother, t'were it far better to have come
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In barony, with thy household hand To see Otli's home, and to sit in the saddle
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All day neath the sun, that the sword Norns might weep For the death-pale warriors, and
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the hunish shield-maids might shun not the sword, and send Atri himself to the din of
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Now the din of the snakes for thee is destined.
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Gunnar spake, too lawfully is it, sister, to summon the Nifrungs.
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Long is it to come to the throng of our comrades, the heroes gallant from the hills of the Rhine.
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King Gunnar they seized, and they set him in chains, the Burgundian's king, and fast
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Hogni slew seven with swords so keen, and an eighth he flung in the fire hot.
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A hero should fight with his foemen thus, as Hogni strove in Gunnar's behalf.
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The leader, they asked, if his life he feigned, with gold would buy the king of the Goths.
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Gunnar spake, first the heart of Hogni shall ye lay in my hands, and all bloody from the
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breast of the bold one cuts, with keen biting sword from the son of the king.
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They cut out the heart from the breast of Hjalli, on the platter they bore it and brought
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to Gunnar. Then Gunnar spake forth the lord of the folk,
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Here have I the heart of Hjalli the Treven, unlike to the heart of Hogni the valiant.
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For it trembles still as it stands on the platter, twice more did it tremble in the
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breast of the man. Then Hogni laughed when they cut out the heart
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Of the living helmed hammerer, Tears he had not.
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On the platter they bore it, And brought it to Gunnar.
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Then Gunnar spake forth, The spear of the Nifrungs,
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Here have I the heart of Hogni the valiant, Unlike the heart of Hjalli the creven,
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Little it trembles as it lies on the platter, Still lest it tremble when it lay in his breast.
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More distant, Otley, from all men's eyes, Shalt thou be as thou, from the gold.
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To no one save me is the secret known, Of the Niflung's horde, now Hogni is dead.
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Of old there were two, while we twain were alive, Now is none but I, for I only am living.
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The swift Rhine shall hold the strife gold of heroes,
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That once was the gods the wealth of the Niflungs.
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In the depths of the waters the death-rings shall glitter,
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And not shine on the hands of the hoonish men.
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Otley spake, Ye shall bring the wagon, for now is he bound.
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On the long main ground wrote Atli the Great, About him were warriors.
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But Guthrin, akin to the gods of slaughter, Yielded not to her tears in the Hall of Tumult.
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Guthrin spake, It shall go with thee, Atli, as with Gunnar thou heldest,
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The oaths oftentimes, and of old make firm, By the sun in the south, by Sigtir's mountain,
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the horse of the respire in the ring of Ul. In the chamber of bits, through the chieftain
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great, the gold garter down to the place of death. By the warrior's host was the living
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hero, cast in the din, or crawling about. Within were serpents, but soon did Gunnar,
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With his hand in wrath on the harp-string smite, The strings resounded, so shall a hero,
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Then Otley rode on his earth-threading steed, Seeking his home from the slaughtered place,
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The perclatter of hoofs of the steeds in the court, And the clashing of arms as they came
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Often came Guthrun to meeting with Atli, with the golden beaker as a gift to the monarch.
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Thou mayst eat now, chieftain, within thy dwelling, blithely with Guthrun young beasts
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The wine-heavy ale-cups of Atli resounded, when there in the hall the hoonish youths
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clamoured, and the warriors bearded the brave ones entered.
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Then came in the Shining One, And drink she bore him.
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Unwilling and bitter Brought she food to the warrior,
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Till in scorn to the white-faced Hotly did she speak.
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Thou give her of swords Of thy sons the hearts,
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All heavy with blood and honey Thou hast eaten.
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Thou shalt stomach, thou hero, The flesh of the slain,
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Who eateth thy feast, and to send to thy followers.
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Thou shalt never call to thy knees again, Earp, or Eitel, when merry with ale.
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Thou shalt never see in their seats again, The sharers of gold, their lances shaping,
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There was clamour on the benches, And the cry of men,
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The clashing of weapons, and the weeping of the Huns.
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For her bare, fierce brothers were the boys so dear,
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So young and so unhappy, whom withoutly she had.
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And the rings of red gold to the followers she gave.
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The fate she let grow, and the shining wealth go,
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For spared she the treasure of the temple itself.
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Unwise, then, was Otli, he had drunk to the wildness.
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No weapon did he have, and of Guthrin beware not.
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Oft their play was better, when both in gladness
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With her sword she gave blood for the bed to drink,
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With her death-dealing hand and the hounds she loosed,
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The thrall she awakened and the firebrand threw, In the door of the hall so vengeance
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To the flames she gave all, who yet were within, And from Mirkaim she had come, From the murderer
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The timbers old fell, the temple was in flames, The dwelling of the Boothlings, and the shieldmaids
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burned. They were slain in the house, in the hot flames they sank.
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Now the tale is all told, nor in later time will the woman in Birney avenge so her brothers.
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The fair one to three, of the kings of the folk, brought the doom of death ere herself
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she died. Still more is told in the Greenland Ballad of Otley.