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Drus Griutunge 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 awiliudon in waurde bleiþjaize is Arþura, liuþe skapjand sunjamma -- þizei bokos Gutans: Barna skurais (The Goths: Children of the Storm) nu bugjan mahtos sind fram Amazon aiþþau iUniverse -- jah Walhahrabna jah Þiudana in hilpos ize jah garaihteinais. -- P.T. 2007 (2009).
Ussandiþ was waurd, Word went out that the wolf was dead. Messengers fared forth throughout the land. The Ests rose up, and the Idumings also. 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 Ill was that week for all but the raven. Haima heard that the sword had bitten, Haithika and Hathula, and they 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, 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 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 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 For that was the king most kind in gifts; for that was the sliest of sovereigns. Riqis was in razna, 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 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 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 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. *
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 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, It was a little thing, weak of limb; a hind wandered off from the herd alone. It grew late. She grew sad. Lost in the fen, she ran on. Ainata iddja 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 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 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 Venom-cold homes they found in the tombs with angry ghosts, and in stealth bethought themselves of what was needed. Jah miþ unhulþam 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 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 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 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. *
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 “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, “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 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 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 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 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, 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, 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, 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 “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 “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 upon 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, 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, 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, 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 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, “Of fires have ye no need, for we shall not be afrighted. Let darts rain down before the gate.” Þlaigidedun þignos 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 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 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 For that was the king most kind in gifts; for that was the sliest of sovereigns. Jah ussandiþ was waurd, 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, upon the highway, field and acre, and in the mighty river. Lang mel galiþan. Long time ago. Falkan ik gasahv þar frijana 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. |
