GuĂ°rĂșnarhvöt, a reading
Episode Stats
Harmful content
Misogyny
1
sentences flagged
Toxicity
1
sentences flagged
Hate speech
14
sentences flagged
Summary
Guthrunar Hvot and the Hamthesmal, or The Ballad of Hamther, are two of the most famous poems in the Old Norse sagas. They tell the story of the tragic death of the queen, Svanhilda, and the death of her husband, Theodoric, King of the East Goths.
Transcript
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The two concluding poems in the Codex Regius, the Guthrunar Hvot, and the Hamthesmal, the Ballad of Hamther,
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belong to a narrative cycle connected with those of Sigurd, the Burgundians, and Atli, by only the slenderest of threads.
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Of the three early historical kings who gradually assumed the dominant place in Germanic legend,
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Ur-Monaric, king of the East Goths in the middle of the 4th century, was actually the least important,
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even though Jordanus, the 6th century author of Deirubus Geticus, compared him to Alexander the Great.
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Memories of his cruelty and of his tragic death, however, persisted along with the real glories of Theodoric,
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a century and a half later, and of the conquest of Attila, whose lifetime approximately bridged
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the gap between Armonarch's death and Theodoric's birth.
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Chief among the popular tales of Armonarch's cruelty was one concerning the death of a
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certain Sunirdo, or Sunile, whom, according to Jadonis, he caused to be torn asunder by
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wild horses because of her husband's treachery. Her brothers, Sauros and Amias, seeking to avenge
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her, wounded but failed to kill her monarch. In this story is the root of the two Norse poems
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including in the Codex Regius. Sunirda easily became the wife as well as the victim of the
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tyrant, and by the process of legend blending so frequently observed, the story was connected
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with the more famous one of the Nibirums by making her the daughter of Sigurd and Guthrun.
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To account for her brothers, a third husband had to be found for Guthrun. The Sorus and Ammius of
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Dredonis are obviously the Sorli and Hamthur, sons of Guthrun and Jönik of the Norse poems.
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The blending of the Sigurd and Elmoneric legends, probably, though not certainly,
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took place before the story reached the north, in other words, before the end of the 8th century.
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Regarding the exact status of the Guthernotervot and the Hontismal,
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Indeed, the first parts of the two poems are nearly identical in context,
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which refers to this second poem as the Old Ballad of Hamtler,
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used the Hamtlismal approximately as it now stands
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The extant Hamtlismal, however, is almost certainly a patchwork.
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including most of the stanzas parallel to the Guthronautervault,
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by the reference to the old ballad, while the rest is in Marahattar.
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The most reasonable theory, therefore, is that there existed an old ballad of Hamther,
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all in Fornishalog, from which the composer of the GuĂ°rnarvold borrowed a few stanzas
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in the introduction for his poem, and which the composer of the extant, or new, Hamther
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and small, likewise used, therefore far more clumsily.
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The title, GuĂ°rnarrvot, which appears in the Codex Regius, really applies only to stanzas
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1-8, all presumably borrowed from the old Ballad of Hamther.
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The rest of the poem is simply another GuĂ°rn lament, following the tradition exemplified
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It is possible, indeed, that it is made up of fragments of two separate laments, one
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stanzas 9-18 involving the story of Svanhild's death, and the other stanzas 19-21 coming
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from an otherwise lost version of the story in which Guthrun closely follows SigurĂ°
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In any event, the present title is really a misnomer.
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A poet, who presumably was an 11th century Icelander, used the episode of Guthrun's inciting their sons to vengeance for the sling of Vanhild simply as an introduction to his main subject, the last lament of the unhappy queen.
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The text of the poem in the Regius is by no means in good shape, and editorial indignations have been many and varied, particularly in interchanging lines between the Gusnallervolt and the Homfismal.
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The Vorsunga Saga paraphrases the poem with such fidelity as to prove that it lay before the compilers of the saga approximately in its present form.
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Guthran went forth to the sea after she had slain Atri.
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She went out into the sea and Fang would drown herself, but she would not sink.
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The waves bore her across the fjord to the land of King Yonach.
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sons were sorely in Ulpenhamther. There was brought up Svanhild, Sigurd's daughter. She
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was married to the mighty Jormenrik. With him was Biki, who counseled that Randvar,
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the king's son, should have her. This Biki told to the king. The king had Randvar hanged,
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And Svanhild trodden to death under horses' feet.
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And when Guthrun learned this, she spake with her sons.
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A word strife I learned, most woeful of all, A speech from the fullness of sorrow spoken.
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When Fierce have hollered her sons to the fight, Did Guthrun wet with words full grim.
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Why sit ye idle, why sleep out your lives, Why grieve ye not in gladness to speak?
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Since Jormenrek your sister young Beneath the hooves of horses hath trodden,
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White and black on the battle-way, Gray road-wanted the steeds of the Goths.
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Not like are ye to Gunnar of yore, Nor have ye hearts such as Hogni's was.
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Vengeance for her ye soon would have, If brave ye were as my brothers of old,
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Then Hamther spake, the high of heart, Let all the deed of Hogni dislove,
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In Sigurth they wakened from his sleep, Thy bed covers white with red with blood,
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Of thy husband drenched with gore from the hearts.
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Bloody revenge didst have for thy brothers, Evil and sore when thy sons didst slay,
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Thus yet might we all on Jormenric, Together our sisters slaying avenge.
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The gear of the Hunnish king now gives us, Thou hast whetted us so to the battle of swords.
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Laughing did Guthrin go to her chamber, The helm of the kings from the cupboard she
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took, and mail-coats broad to her son she bore them. On the horses' backs the heroes leaped.
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Then Hamther spake, the high of the cart. Homeward no more, his mother to see comes
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the Spear-god, following mid Gothic folk. One death draught thou, for us all shall drink,
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Weeping Guthrun, Gilkey's daughter, Went sadly before the gate to sit,
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And with tear-stained cheeks to tell the tale, For mighty griefs so many in kind.
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Whom was I brought by husbands three, But Sigurth only of all was dear,
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A great sorrow I saw, not nor knew, Yet more it seemed I must suffer yet,
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The brave boys I summoned to Sigurth's speech, For my woes requital I must not win.
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To off the heads of the Niflungs I blew, To the sea I went my heartful sore,
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To the Norns whose wrath I would now escape.
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But the lofty billows bore me undrowned, To the land I came so I longer must live,
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Into the bed of old was it bitter, Of a king of the folk a third the time I came.
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Boys I bore his heirs to be, Heirs so young, the sons of Yannick.
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But round Svanhird had made in sats, She was dearest ever of all my children.
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So did Svanhild seem in my hall, As the ray of the sun is far to see.
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Gold I gave her in garments bright, Ere I let her go to the Gothic folk.
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Of my heavy woes the hardest it was, When Svanhild's tresses fair were trodden,
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In the mire by hoofs of horses wild, The sorest it was with Sigurd's mind,
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On his couch of victory rob they killed, And grimmest of all went to Gunnar's heart,
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Their crept bright-hued crawling snakes, And keenest of all when they cut the heart
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But once we said, and together both on the bed we sat,
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That mightily thou to me wist come, From hell and I from earth to thee.
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Pile ye up, Jarls, the pyre of oak, Make it the highest a hero ever had.
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Let the fire burn my grief-filled breast, My sore-pressed heart till my sorrows melt.
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May nobles all, lest sorrow know, and lest the woes of women become.
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