Egil’s Saga Page 24

  Egil saith that that was then not to be looked for, that he would have might to work then though he sought to: “Yet try this I may”, saith he. Egil had then had a son that was named Gunnar, and that one too had died a little before. And this is the beginning of the song:10

  Heavy meseems

  Is stirring of tongue now,

  ’Neath air-weight

  Of the ode’s balance.

  ’Tis not now hopeful

  For Odin’s plunder:

  From heart’s well

  No handy drawing.

  ’Tis not rais’d easy

  (’Cause ruleth here

  Heavy sobbings)

  From soul’s abode—

  The fair thing found

  Of Frigg’s kinsfolk,

  Borne of yore

  From Jotunheim.

  Faultless: the one thing

  Left for me:

  My last, best

  Boat unsunken.

  The giant’s wound-stream

  Waileth under,

  Past boat-house door

  Of my blood and kin.

  For my line

  At’s latter end

  Standeth, storm-bent

  Like forest maples.

  ’Tis no blithe man,

  He that must bear

  A dear one’s corpse

  From his dwelling down.

  Yet for me

  A mother’s corpse,

  A father dead,

  Is first to tell of.

  That bear I out

  From temple of words,

  Timber for song-craft

  Speech-beleaféd.

  Grim was the breach

  The breaker wrought

  In the kin-built fence

  Of my father’s garth.

  I know, unfill’d

  And open standeth

  My son’s place

  That the sea swept bare.

  Greatly hath Ran

  For-ruin’d me.

  I am over-stript

  Of loving friends.

  The sea hath cut

  The cords of mine house,

  The hard-spun line

  That held from me.

  Wot thou, if my wrongs

  Could be wreak’d with the sword,

  With the Ale-Smith

  ’T were soon over.

  Had I might to fell

  The fierce storm’s brother,

  ’Gainst Aegir’s darling

  I’d fare to battle.

  Yet had I nothing,

  (As I bethought me),

  Of might to strive

  ’Gainst my son’s slayer.

  To the common folk’s

  Eyes lies bare

  The helplessness

  Of an old man.

  Me hath the sea

  Sorely robbéd:

  Grim ’tis the death

  Of kinsfolk to tell of:

  Since for me

  My house’s shield

  To the way of bliss

  From life hath turn’d.

  This know I for sure:

  In this son of mine

  No stuff of an ill man

  Was ever waxen.

  If the tree had gotten

  Grown to’s prime,

  To the War-God’s hand

  ’Should a reach’d at last.

  Aye valu’d he most

  What his father said,

  Though all beside

  Should speak against it.

  Me he upheld

  In mine householding,

  And mine estate

  Most he strengthen’d.

  Oft cometh me

  In the light wind

  Of the Moon’s bride

  My brother lost.

  I bethink me of him

  When Hild rageth;

  Look round for him,

  And think on this:

  Who else, high-hearted,

  His place can fill me,

  To stand by me

  When mad talk riseth?

  Need I that oft

  ’Gainst thrawart folk:

  Wary I wing,

  Sith friends are ebbing.

  Much hard to find

  Is he we may trust in,

  ’Mid all folk

  In Iceland dwelling;

  For the good-for-nought

  Who a great house wrecketh

  Barters for rings

  His brother’s corpse.

  Find I that oft,

  Where fee is bidden

  Nay, and that’s said:

  That none may get

  Right boot for his son

  ’Less he breed another:

  Nor get that man

  Who might to other

  Stand in the stead

  Of a brother born.

  It likes me not

  Of the common people,

  Not though each keep him

  Quiet with other.—

  —My boy’s come

  Where the beë’s path beareth:

  My wife’s son,

  To seek to his kin.

  But ’gainst me still,

  With’s mind unmov’d

  The Judge of the Froth-mash

  Standeth yet.

  ’Neath unrest’s hood

  Hold I may not

  Up and aright

  My riding thoughts,

  Since my son

  By the fire of sickness

  In hateful wise

  From his home was took:

  Him that, I wis,

  Warded him well

  Withouten blemish

  From blameful speech.

  That mind I too,

  That He which holdeth

  Converse with men

  In the Gods’ home rais’d

  Mine house’s ash-tree

  From me that grew,

  The kindred wood

  Of my wife’s kin.

  Well stood I

  With the Lord of Spears:

  I made me trusting

  To trow on Him;

  Till the Ruler of Wains,

  The Awarder of Vict’ry

  Cut bonds of our friendship

  And flung me off.

  Worship I not, then,

  Vilir’s Brother,

  The Most High God,

  Of mine own liking.

  Yet Mimir’s Friend hath

  To me vouchsaféd

  Boot for my bale

  That is better, I ween.

  Mine Art He gave me,

  The God of Battles,

  Great Foe of Fenrir,—

  A gift all faultless,

  And that temper

  That still hath brought me

  Notable foes

  ’Mid the knavish-minded.

  All’s hard to wield now.

  The Wolf’s right Sister

  —All-Father’s Foe’s—

  On the sea-ness stands.

  Yet will I glad,

  With a good will,

  And without grief,

  Abide Hell’s coming.

  Egil began to be brisk as it went forward with working of the song. And when the song was ended, then said he it over to Asgerd and Thorgerd and them of his household. Rose he then up out of his bed, and sat him in his high seat. This song called he Sons’ Wreck.

  Thereafter let Egil hold funeral for his sons after the ancient manner. But when Thorgerd fared home, then Egil led her on her way with gifts.

  Egil dwelt at Burg a long tide, and became an old man; but it is not said that he had dealings at law with men here in the land. Nought is said, neither, of holmgangs of his or warlike dealings after he settled down here in Iceland. So say men, that Egil fared not abroad out of Iceland since these tidings came to pass that were now aforesaid; and that had most to do with this, that Egil might not be in Norway because of those guilts, as before was said, that the Kings thought they had against him. A household had he of the greatest largesse, because there lacked not of fe
e. He had, too, a good frame of mind for this.

  King Hakon Athelstane’s-Fosterling ruled over Norway a long while; but the latter part of his life, then came the sons of Eric to Norway and strove for the realm of Norway with Hakon the King, and they had battles together, and Hakon had ever the victory. Their latest battle had they in Hordaland, in Stord at Fitiar.11 There gat King Hakon the victory, and therewithal his bane-wound. After that, took those sons of Eric kingdom in Norway.

  Arinbiorn the Hersir was with Harald Ericson and became his counsellor, and had of him exceeding great revenues. He was overseer of his host and of the warding of the land. Arinbiorn was a great man of war and a victorious. He had to revenue the Firthfolk.

  Egil Skallagrimson heard these tidings, that a shifting of Kings was come about in Norway, and that withal, that Arinbiorn was then come into Norway to his own home, and was then in great esteem. Then wrought Egil a song upon Arinbiorn, and this is the beginning thereof:12

  I am pat of speech

  For praising of princes,

  But slow-spoke

  Of the stingy-minded;

  Open-mouth’d

  Of war-lord’s deeds,

  But tongue-tied

  ’Mid tittle-tattle.

  With scoffs dower’d

  ’Gainst scandal-bearers,

  I am free of speech

  For friends of mine.

  Sought have I many

  Seats of the great,

  With the pure mind

  Of poesy.

  Had I of old

  The Yngling’s child’s,

  The rich King’s,

  Wrath upon me.

  Over my dark hair

  Daring’s hood

  Drew I, and home

  To the Hersir sought I,

  There where all-wielder

  ’Neath helm of awing,

  As folk-lord, over

  The land did sit.

  Steer’d the King

  With stern intent

  From York-town

  The dank demesne.

  That was a moonlight

  Nought to trust to,

  Nor without terror,

  On Eric’s brow;

  When the moon of his forehead,

  Worm-glance darting,

  Shone from all-wielder’s

  Flaming eyen.

  Yet bolster-hire

  Of Him that is make

  Of the fish of the wildwood

  Durst I to lord bear,

  So as Ygg’s cup

  O’er-brimming came

  Unto the mouths

  Of each man’s ears.

  Nor fair of shape

  To folk beseeméd

  Skald-fee I won

  From house’s ruler,

  Then when my wolf-grey

  Knob of hats

  As price of my song

  From prince I gat.

  That took I;

  But with noddle follow’d

  The darkling pits

  Of my drooping brows,

  And that mouth

  Which for me did bear

  Mine HEAD-RANSOM

  ’Fore prince’s knee.

  There stood for me,

  Than many better,

  The treasure-bestower

  On t’other side:

  True friend of mine

  That I’d learnt to trust to,

  In glory enhancéd

  At every rede:

  Arinbiorn,

  Who alone us kept,

  Of kempés foremost,

  From King’s hatreds;

  The ruler’s friend,

  Who never yet

  Brake faith in the war-wont

  Prince’s garth.

  And.........

  .........let

  The much-advancer

  Of deeds of mine,

  As.........

  ..................

  That it should be in

  Kindred’s….

  Friendship’s thief

  I were justly naméd,

  And hope-belier

  Of Odin’s cup,

  Of praise-song unworthy,

  A promise-breaker—

  Made I not payment

  For that upholding.

  Now is that seen

  Where set I shall,

  Steep for the scaling

  Of skalds’ footsteps,

  Before men’s eyes

  In their multitude,

  Praise-song of mighty

  Offspring of Hersirs.

  Easy of shaping

  With my voice-plane

  Is the praise-timber

  Of son of Thorir

  —Of mine own friend—

  ’Cause chosen lieth

  Two things or three

  Upon my tongue.

  That tell I first,

  Which most men wot,

  And the common sort

  Do seek with their ears:

  How bounteous-minded

  Beseem’d to men

  The Bear of the Table

  Of Birches’ Dread.

  To all the host

  Tis holden for wonder

  How the world of men

  With wealth he dowereth;

  They have enrich’d

  The Bear of the Stone,

  Both Frey and Niord,

  With fee’s abundance.

  Yea, at the house of

  Hroald’s head-stem

  Streams wealth o’ermounting

  To hands of men;

  There’s riding of friends

  From all the ways

  Over the wind-bowl’s

  Wide bottom.

  Like as a prince

  He hath gotten

  A draw-rope unto

  Hearing-baskets;

  Lov’d of the Gods

  ’Mid the throng of men;

  Friend of Vethorm;

  Weaklings’ defender.

  That winneth he

  Which the most of men

  Fail of, albeit

  Fee they’ve gotten;

  I mean, short’s not the going

  ’Twixt great men’s houses,

  Nor easy shafting

  Of all men’s spears.

  Ne’er went one out

  From Arinbiorn,

  Forth of his long-built

  Bedstead-ship,

  With scorn led forth

  Nor with scathing words

  Nor dwelling-stead

  Of spear empty.

  He is grim toward fee

  Who dwells in the Firths;

  That one’s right dour

  Toward Draupnir’s scions;

  An adversary

  To sons of stealers:

  To rings a terror:

  A treasure-slayer.

  Still hath he had

  His whole life long

  Full.........

  Of peace-breakings.

  That were not good,

  If the gold-waner

  Should on the mews’-path,

  Much-beridden

  Of Rokkvi’s steed,

  Have strewn to waste

  Those many gains

  That to me he wrought.

  I was waking betimes:

  I bare words together,

  With the morning’s work

  Of the servant of speech

  Pil’d I a praise-howe

  That long shall stand

  Not easy-broken

  In Bragi’s mead.

  There was a man named Einar. 13 He was the son of Helgi, the son of Otter, the son of Biorn the Easterner who took land in Broadfirth. Einar was brother of Osvif the Wise.14 Einar was straightway in his youthful age big and strong and the greatest man at feats of strength. He took to working of songs straightway when he was young, and was a man ready to learn. That was one summer at the Althing, that Einar went to the booth of Egil Skallagrimson, and they took to words, and speedily it came to this in their talk that they discoursed of skaldshi
p. To either of them such-like discoursing seemed delightful. After that, Einar was wont oft-times to go to talk with Egil; there began to be there great friendship. Einar had a little while before come home from faring abroad. Egil asked Einar much of tidings from the east, and of his friends: so too of those who he thought he knew were unfriends of his. He asked much too about the great men. Einar asked Egil too, in return, of those tidings that aforetime were come about in Egil’s journeys and his mighty works; and that talk seemed good to Egil, and it made good telling. Einar asked Egil where he had been so bested that he had most tried himself, and bade him say to him that.

  Quoth Egil:15

  Battled I one ’gainst eight,

  Ay, with eleven twice.

  So brought we food for beast:

  Their bane was I alone.

  Swapp’d we hard with hate

  With horrible shield-knives:

  Let I o’er Embla’s ash

  The sword-fire cast,

  Egil and Einar spake to friendship betwixt them at parting. Einar was long in the outlands with men of high estate. Einar was an open-handed man, and oftenest had little money, but he was a lordly man and a good fellow: he was of the bodyguard of Earl Hakon Sigurdson.16

  In that time there was in Norway great unpeace and battles betwixt them, Earl Hakon and the sons of Eric, and now one now the other were packed out of the land. King Harald Ericson fell south in Denmark at the Neck in the Limfirth, and he was betrayed.17 There battled he against Harald Knutson, that was called Gold-Harald; against him and Earl Hakon. There fell then too, with Harald the King, Arinbiorn the Hersir that before was spoke of.

  And when Egil heard tell of Arinbiorn’s fall, then quoth he: 18

  Minish’d are those who minish’d

  The mew-field’s day,—O where now

  Shall I find men as bounteous?—

  Thing-brighteners of Ingvi:

  They that on hawk’s high-fell

  Hail’d for me with limbeck’s

  Snow for earth’s girdle

  Island-nail’d with words.

  Einar Helgison the skald was called Jingle-scale. He wrought a drapa upon Earl Hakon that is called Gold-lack,19 and that was for a very long time that the Earl would not listen to the song, because he was wroth with Einar.

  Then quoth Einar:20

  Made I the ale of Odin,

  While others slept; for captain

  That sits o’er earth, all eager

  Wrought I—I’m sorry for it!

  Little methought (with longing

  The lord sought I) ’twas likely

  To strong prince, treasure-scatterer,

  This skald should seem the worst.

  And yet again quoth he:21

  Seek we that earl that heart takes

  To eke with swords the wolf’s feast:

  To twi-row’d bark repair we

  Of ring-shielded Sigvaldi.

  Drop hand with me he will not,

  That wound-serpent swayer,