Appendix 9 - Page 2

hand
Gives unto hand!"
"What helping for foot
That help that foot giveth,
Or for flesh-covered hand
The helping of hand?"
Then spake Erp
Yet once again
Mock spake the prince
As he sat on his steed:
"Fool's deed to show
The way to a dastard!"
"Bold beyond measure,"
Quoth they, "is the base-born!"
Out from the sheath
Drew they the sheath-steel,
And the glaives' edges played
For the pleasure of hell;
By the third part they minished
The might that they had,
Their young kin they let lie
A-cold on the earth.
Then their fur-cloaks they shook
And bound fast their swords,
In webs goodly woven
Those great ones were clad;
Young they went o'er the fells
Where the dew was new-fallen
Swift, on steeds of the Huns,
Heavy vengeance to wreak.
Forth stretched the ways,
And an ill way they found,
Yea, their sister's son [1]
Hanging slain upon tree--
Wolf-trees by the wind made cold
At the town's westward
Loud with cranes' clatter--
Ill abiding there long!
Din in the king's hall
Of men merry with drink,
And none might hearken
The horses' tramping
Or ever the warders
Their great horn winded.
Then men went forth
To Jormunrek
To tell of the heeding
Of men under helm:
"Give ye good counsel!
Great ones are come hither,
For the wrong of men mighty
Was the may to death trodden."
"Loud Jormunrek laughed,
And laid hand to his beard,
Nor bade bring his byrny,
But with the wine fighting,
Shook his red locks,
On his white shield sat staring,
And in his hand
Swung the gold cup on high.
"Sweet sight for me
Those twain to set eyes on,
Sorli and Hamdir,
Here in my hall!
Then with bowstrings
Would I bind them,
And hang the good Giukings
Aloft on the gallows!"

Then spake Hrothglod
From off the high steps,
Spake the slim-fingered
Unto her son,--
For a threat was cast forth
Of what ne'er should fall--
"Shall two men alone
Two hundred Gothfolk
Bind or bear down
In the midst of their burg?"

Strife and din in the hall,
Cups smitten asunder
Men lay low in blood
From the breasts of Goths flowing.
Then spake Hamdir,
The high-hearted:
"Thou cravedst, O king,
From the coming of us,
The sons of one mother,
Amidmost thine hall--
Look on these hands of thine,
Look on these feet of thine,
Cast by us, Jormunrek,
On to the flame!"
Then cried aloud
The high Gods' kinsman [2]
Bold under byrny,--
Roared he as bears roar;
"Stones to the