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Updated: June 29, 2025
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!"
Hamdir answered, "Little didst thou praise Gunnar and Hogni, whereas they slew Sigurd, and thou wert reddened in the blood of him, and ill were thy brethren avenged by the slaying of thine own sons: yet not so ill a deed were it for us to slay King Jormunrek, and so hard thou pushest us on to this that we may naught abide thy hard words."
"Your sister's name Was naught but Swanhild, Whom Jormunrek With horses has trodden! White horses and black On the war-beaten way, Grey horses that go On the roads of the Goths. "All alone am I now As in holt is the aspen; As the fir-tree of boughs, So of kin am I bare; As bare of things longed for As the willow of leaves When the bough-breaking wind The warm day endeth.
Now Gudrun heard of the slaying of Swanhild, and spake to her sons, "Why sit ye here in peace amid merry words, whereas Jormunrek hath slain your sister, and trodden her under foot of horses in shameful wise? No heart ye have in you like to Gunnar or Hogni; verily they would have avenged their kinswoman!"
"Too baleful vengeance Wroughtest thou for thy brethren Most sore and evil When thy sons thou slewedst, Else all we together On Jormunrek Had wrought sore vengeance For that our sister. "Come, bring forth quickly The Hun kings' bright gear, Since thou has urged us Unto the sword-Thing!"
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