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Skaldic Poetry of the Scandinavian Middle Ages

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Lausavísur from Ragnars saga loðbrókar — Anon (Ragn)VIII (Ragn)

Anonymous Lausavísur

Lausavísur from Ragnars saga loðbrókar — Rory McTurk

Rory McTurk (forthcoming), ‘ Anonymous, Lausavísur from Ragnars saga loðbrókar’ in Margaret Clunies Ross (ed.), Poetry in fornaldarsögur. Skaldic Poetry of the Scandinavian Middle Ages 8. Turnhout: Brepols, p. . <https://skaldic.org/m.php?p=text&i=2943> (accessed 18 September 2021)

 

Þér segju vér þína
— þat er nauð, kona! — dauða.
Ill eru einkarmanni
ørlög sona Þóru.
Þung spjöll vitum önnur
æ nýjari en þessi:
— nú hefi ek fram komit fögrum —
flaug örn of ná dauðan.
 
‘We tell you that your [kinsmen] are dead; woman, it is a sad task! The fate of Þóra’s sons will be hard for your husband [to bear]. We know of no more recent heavy tidings than these: an eagle flew around a dead body; now I have told the news aright.
Seg þú frá þegnsköpum þínum!
Þik ráðumz ek spyrja:
hvar sáttu hrafn á hríslu
hrolla dreyrafullan?
Optar þáttu at öðrum
í öndvegi fundinn,
en þú dreyrug hræ drægir
í dal fyrir valfugla.
 
‘Speak of your exploits! I venture to ask you: where did you see a raven, full of blood, fluttering on a branch? You received from others, [and were] found in the high seat, more often than you could have dragged bloody corpses into a valley for carnage-birds [RAVENS/EAGLES].
Þegi þú, heimdregi heitinn!
Hvat er þik, vesallátan?
Hefir þú aldrigi unnit,
þess er ek mega þrotna.
Feittira sverð- né sólar
sækitík at -leiki;
gafta þú hafnar hesti
— hvat rækir þik? — drykkju.
 
‘Be silent, you, [rightly] called a stay-at-home! What concern is it of yours, shabby wretch? You have never achieved anything in which I may lag behind. You did not fatten the chasing-bitch of the sun [WOLF] in sword-play [BATTLE]; you did not give a drink to the horse of the harbour [SHIP]; what do you care?
Hafs létum vér hesta
hlýr stinn á brim renna,
meðan á bjartar brynjur
blóði dreif um síðir.
Ylgr gein aldri mönnum
eyragrán of svíra
— harð-meldri fám vér heiða
Hveðnu — blóði roðna.
 
‘We made the sturdy prows of the horses of the sea [SHIPS] advance on the surf while blood at last sprayed onto bright corslets. The grey-eared she-wolf never gaped over necks of [our] men, reddened with blood; we obtain the gleaming hard flour of Hveðna <giantess> [GOLD].
Alls engi sá ek yðvarn,
þar er upp lokinn fundum
Heilavá*g fyrir hvítum
hesti máva rastar.
Ok við lási lúðra
fyrir landi vér undum
hallar ríkri möllu
hrafns fyrir rauðum stafni.
 
‘I saw none of you at all where we found Heilavágr opened up before the white horse of the path of seagulls [SEA > SHIP]. And with our ships at anchor we took pleasure, offshore, in the mighty enclosure of the hall of the raven [CRAG > SEA] before the red prow.
Samira okkr at öldrum
of öndvegi þræta,
hvar okkar hefir unnit
hváðarr framar öðrum.
Þú stótt, þar er bar bára
branda hjört at sundi,
en ek sat, þar er rá reiddi
rauðan stafn til hafnar.
 
‘It is not fitting for the two of us to wrangle, in our seats at a drinking session, over where each of us has achieved more than the other. You stood where a wave bore the stag of prow-sides [SHIP] to the sound, and I sat where the sail-yard brought the red prow into harbour.
Fylgðum Birni báðir
at branda gný hverjum
— váru reyndir rekkar —
en Ragnari stundum.
Var ek, þar er bragnar börðuz
á Bolgaralandi;
því bar ek sár á síðu;
sittu innar meir, granni!
 
‘We both accompanied Bjǫrn, and sometimes Ragnarr, in every clash of swords [BATTLE]; they were proven warriors. I was where men fought in Bolgaraland; hence I bore a wound in my side; sit further in, neighbour!
Þat var fyrir löngu,         er í leið megir
Heklings fóru         hlumtungum
fram um salta         slóð birtinga;
þá varð ek þessa         þorps ráðandi.
 
‘It was long ago when the sons of Heklingr went on their way with oar-handle tongues [OAR BLADES] over the salt track of sea-trout [SEA]; then I became the ruler of this habitation.
Ok því settu mik         svarðmerðlingar
suðr hjá salti,         synir Loðbróku.
Þá var ek blótinn         til bana mönnum
í Sámseyju         sunnanverðri.
 
‘And so head-dress wearers, sons of Loðbróka, set me up in the south by the sea. At that time I was worshipped to the death of men in the southern part of Samsø.
Þar báðu standa,         meðan strönd þolir,
mann hjá þyrni         ok mosa vaxinn.
Nú skýtr á mik         ský*ja gráti;
hlýr hvárki mér         hold né klæði.
 
‘There they bade the man [me] stand for as long as the coast endures, by a thorn-bush and overgrown with moss. Now the weeping of the clouds [RAIN] pours down upon me; neither flesh nor cloth protects me.
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