by Sigurður Breiðfjörð

Fifteen rímur composed by Sigurður Breiðfjörð (1798–1846), the foremost rímur poet of nineteenth-century Iceland. The cycle retells Gísla saga Súrssonar — one of the five masterpieces of the Íslendingasögur — in alliterative, rhymed verse. Gísli Súrsson is the great outlaw: a man who kills his sister's husband to avenge the murder of his sworn brother, is outlawed, and spends thirteen years on the run in the Westfjords of Iceland, sustained only by the loyalty of his wife Auður and the two dream-women who visit him in his sleep. He dies fighting fifteen men at Geirþjófsfjörður, the last of the great saga outlaws.

Breiðfjörð — who also composed the Rímur of Núma Pompilius, the Rímur of Tístrani and Indiana, and numerous other cycles — brings the saga into the full apparatus of the rímur tradition: mansöngvar (invocations to the muse), kennings, shifting meters, and the distinctive Icelandic practice of retelling prose narratives in ornate stanzaic verse. Each ríma opens with a mansöngur addressed to Öðun or the gods of poetry, before the narrative continues.

Published posthumously at Copenhagen by J.B. Breiðfjörð, printed at S.L. Møller's press, 1857. Fraktur (Gothic blackletter) typeface. The translation was produced by reading the Fraktur directly from the scanned pages, with OCR text reconstructed where possible. This is the first known English translation of Breiðfjörð's Gíslarímur.

Fyrsta Ríma — First Ríma

Mansöngur

I.

I still entreat you, as I owe,
Öðun, queen of songs —
mighty goddess from Gimli's glow,
mistress of my melodies.

II.

You, who once set learning down
and gave our songs their birth,
bestowed on words both soul and crown
for our children's host on earth.

III.

You, who freed my needful verse
from the bonds of thought,
when in secret, hand on my weary course,
you and Numa led me, sought.

IV.

You alone take up our cause —
bliss dwells where you abide.
You who taught before, now teach the laws
of the king's deeds, far and wide.

V.

Mine is another tale to tell —
too long if now we tarry.
Let no unfit strings upon me dwell
or on my harp miscarry.

VI.

Though malice whet its blades in two hands,
sharpening spite and sting,
let my hero in those heated strands
withstand each venomed thing.

VII.

Let him break the fiends' defences
and end the days of thralls,
and let the dying, past their senses,
fear the thieves in darkened halls.

VIII.

Though hatred grow where kinsmen chill
and spite from kinsfolk come,
grant him at last the highest praise still,
through his long years, to his home.

IX.

His wondrous strife and mighty fame —
let most of men have heard.
Let glory deck the hero's name:
champion of the island lord.

X.

Let the woodlands quicken, green —
the wearied journey's sorrows soften.
Let the waters' grounds be seen
and the words of wisdom ripen often.

XI.

Let the good enjoy their days —
and silence greet dull prattle.
For Gísli we bring Gísli's lays:
bold Baldr of the gods' last battle.

The Saga Begins

XII.

Athelstan's foster-son, the prince,
Hákon ruled the Norse —
their folk and land alike. From thence
the saga sets its course.

XIII.

A chieftain, Þorkell, held his seat
at Surnadal's homestead then.
Young Ísgerðr he took for bride to meet —
she lay beside him, his chosen fen.

XIV.

Three sons the goodwife bore in turn —
as valiant men are named:
Ari, Gísli, and Þorbjörn
were those thanes called and famed.

XV.

Their worth advanced and prospered well —
bold warriors we call such men.
Ari won Ingibjörg, the belle,
that rich man's daughter then.

XVI.

A berserker roamed the settlements round —
his name was Björn the dire.
He challenged men to fighting ground,
the equal of trolls in ire.

XVII.

Gainful for the wicked his ways became —
men feared him through the land.
Once to Ari's farm he came
with evil terms in hand.

XVIII.

"Fight me now," so Björn declares,
"the shield shall dress in blood —
or yield your wife, your farm, your cares,
your lands and livelihood."

XIX.

Ari answers the wicked man:
"I shall not be the slower,
rather than my wife and I withstand
such shame — we'll sink no lower."

XX.

They come upon the duel-island's strand —
the edge slips into flesh.
Before the sword-storm turns its hand,
Ari the farmer falls to rest.

XXI.

The other seized the blood-soaked field,
thought himself the winner —
wife and lands, all forced to yield,
welcome to every dinner.

XXII.

Where such laws in lands take root,
folk have known the cost.
The mighty learn from bitter fruit
how much good prayers have lost.

XXIII.

To Ingibjörg and others all
this seemed an evil fate.
Gísli, Ari's brother, stood up tall
and boldly took the bait:

XXIV.

"I'd rather let my life-blood flow
and lie upon the plain
than let these bitter fates bestow
their curse upon our family's name."

XXV.

The grief-struck woman told him then,
tears heavy on her face:
"Before I was wed to Ari, when —
I'd gladly have had you in his place."

XXVI.

"A thrall is here of nimble hand —
his name is Kolur the Stout.
Grásíða, his great spear-brand,
gladly steers each victory bout.

XXVII.

Ask him to lend the blade to you."
Soon they came to speech.
Through force the man was pressed to do —
the nail-ring passed within his reach.

XXVIII.

Upon the island, strife they wage —
the hero Gísli and the bear.
Fierce was the weapon-tempest's rage,
hard the assault and hard to bear.

XXIX.

The berserker in a pool of blood
found his destined end.
Better for him, that Björn, it would
have been to ask for less, my friend.

XXX.

Gísli did not from his kin remove
the young wife. After this,
beside Ingibjörg he lay in love —
together still in wedded bliss.

XXXI.

Kolur demands his sword returned —
but harm comes following fast.
The other won't release what's earned
and offers coin to hold it fast.

XXXII.

The thrall then draws the wound-blade high,
the farmer felt the blow —
he hews Kolur through the skull to die
with Grásíða's fatal throw.

XXXIII.

The sword broke clean in two with that —
the wounds had found their mark.
Both Kolur and the farmer flat
received their deaths in dark.

XXXIV.

Old Þorkell the chieftain then gave way —
death took what life had lent.
Þorbjörn, the heir, held sway that day
over all his kinsmen's settlement.

XXXV.

He set up house at Stokkar's ground —
that is the farm's true name.
Þóra, who gave her marriage-bond,
was the wife who shared his fame.

XXXVI.

Three heirs she bore — as elsewhere told —
Gísli, Ari, and Þorkell named:
those thanes of temper bold.

XXXVII.

Þorbjörn's daughter Þórdís was
a woman mild of grace.
Her beauty surpassed all others' cause,
though you searched from place to place.

XXXVIII.

A young farmer, Bárður by name,
lived at Grannarskeiði's ground.
Often to Stokkar walking he came
seeking Þórdís, hound-like bound.

XXXIX.

The wicked world with countless tongues
washed them in its spite —
that he had kept more trysts than wrung
from what was proper right.

XL.

Ill could Þorbjörn bear the shame,
but Þorkell loved Bárður still.
Gísli's breast a fury came —
the warrior kept his silence, chill.

XLI.

Þorkell once asked Bárður to ride
out with him along the way.
Gísli followed at their side,
burning for a bloody fray.

XLII.

Between them on the path midway,
with unflinching, steady will,
Gísli let his sword-blade sway
and put Bárður to sleep, to kill.

XLIII.

Þorkell raged at what was done —
lord of the serpent-dale.
Gísli turned to jest upon
his brother, spinning this tale:

XLIV.

"Weapons stir up strife, and most
friendships end in blades.
Keep the ones that bite the most,
so Bárður makes no more parades."

XLV.

Þorkell settled down at that;
Gísli went his way.
He told his father where he sat —
the fallen news brought cheer that day.

XLVI.

A man called Skeggi held his ground
on Saxu island's shore —
Bárður's kinsman. When word came round,
this stung him to the core.

XLVII.

Þorkell bore his grudge and stayed
as Skeggi's welcome guest,
though against his own he tried to wade —
for vengeance he was pressed.

XLVIII.

With bold Skeggi he laid a plan —
that he should win their sister's hand.
This suited both as matched to man;
together they set out as planned.

XLIX.

Then to Stokkar twenty score
of sturdy warriors ride.
They wrap this suit in wedding lore;
Þorbjörn answered, undenied:

L.

"My homestead has been asked before —
Kolbjörn seeks her hand.
I find he suits the bridal score,
the husband-bond's command."

LI.

Skeggi challenges Kolbjörn then —
sword and shield must prove the right.
Kolbjörn said he'd rather, amen,
than lose the maiden from his sight.

LII.

The duel on Saxu duly set —
the warriors tipped their spears.
Skeggi readied all he'd get,
his strength enough to quell his fears.

LIII.

The champion Gísli tells Kolbjörn flat
these words upon his ear:
"He won't take the field of combat —
let me go in his place here."

LIV.

"I will not," said Kolbjörn's voice,
"on the headland's ground contend
with so troll-grown a champion's choice —
a Tyrfing-blade wielder's end."

LV.

Gísli answers: "Since you lack
the will to go and fight,
and though you earn a coward's track,
I'll answer for that right."

LVI.

Gísli goes with twelve bold men
to test the edge of war.
He reaches the wrestling-floor, and then
strides out to meet Skeggi's roar.

LVII.

Gunnlogi — that was the spear's name —
great Skeggi swung it round.
Often had it led to death's own claim,
where famous warriors hit the ground.

LVIII.

The sword against the shield-rim rang —
he came with words of iron:
"The island Saxu shook and sang —
Gunnlogi howled on shields like fire on."

LIX.

Gísli swung his sharpened blade —
fearsome power followed through.
Skeggi's foot the blow had made
to sever — Gísli said anew:

LX.

"The gray fox has been chased away —
the blow I gave to Skeggi."
The wounded man grew calm that day
and begged release, now unsteady.

LXI.

From that meeting, broken, bent,
they carried the man back home.
A stave beneath his stump was sent —
he hobbled ever from that, alone.

LXII.

With Gísli, Þorkell homeward rode —
peace between the brothers found.
No grief weighed down their shared abode,
the love of brothers safe and sound.

LXIII.

Skeggi's sons from Saxu came
seeking Gísli at Flýdruness.
The warriors drew their men — their aim:
to visit grief and wickedness.

LXIV.

Full twenty warriors formed the band
to break the peace by night.
Sword-wielders through the darkness planned
their treachery and spite.

LXV.

Warriors rode the gray-maned steed —
thunder in the war-cloud's din.
Then fire and ember, coal and deed
bore down on Stokkar's home within.

LXVI.

Þorbjörn and his sons held fast —
no shield could spare the flame.
In iron vats they had amassed,
they dipped their hides to tame.

LXVII.

Three times the fire was beaten back
by drenching hides and will.
Gísli's strength held off the attack —
the smoldering walls held still.

LXVIII.

Out burst ten souls to seize their breath —
five, then five again.
They followed smoke to mountain cleft
while fire consumed the den.

LXIX.

Twelve within met doom that night —
burned by merciless hands.
They thought the mother and children's plight
was charred in glowing brands.

LXX.

Gísli sails to Friðarey,
gathers men and fleet.
The famous man buys ship to weigh
for Flyðru-lands to meet.

LXXI.

They sell their lands — sixty men
become the ship's full crew.
They pitch the hull and rise again,
tighten sail and rope anew.

LXXII.

Before they chart their journey's way,
a landing party stands —
forty warriors stride to bay
at Flýdruness's sands.

LXXIII.

Skeggi's sons they find — behold! —
the warriors of the vale.
Hell's jaws gaped wide and took its hold
and swallowed the brothers without fail.

LXXIV.

Then homeward to the farm they pressed
to plunder what remained.
They stripped the goods and took the rest
and loaded all they'd gained.

LXXV.

Gísli turned back in once more
before he sailed away —
and as farewell to Skeggi bore,
cut the head from trunk that day.

LXXVI.

Nowhere rests the outlaw's peace
when mind must ever turn,
when law and custom's every crease
makes lands and nations churn.

Önnur Ríma — Second Ríma

Mansöngur

I.

Look and see: as one who steers a small boat
from shore and out to open sea
dreads the storm and billow's smother.

II.

As in the waning moon a child gone astray
is blind to both sides of the way —
no shelter anywhere before him.

III.

Far off to lands he dreams of reaching,
driven from his berth and bed,
frightened at where he may land.

IV.

So am I from my drowsy slumber
drawn upon the saga-deep —
I cannot tell the paths apart.

V.

The ample length of the saga I have started
frightens me like the blue sea
frightens him who is driven from shore.

VI.

The place-names and the wordy speech of men
buffet me like the fall of waves —
the whole path seems deadly.

VII.

I know not whether I shall be granted
the whole long way of the saga's road,
though life continues on its path.

VIII.

I am therefore in the greatest peril
since into my arms I took
a wondrously great saga-book.

IX.

Like one who is blown from land by gales
and yet may reach home by his chase —
onward now I must steer.

X.

Nevertheless I shall close my eyes
in the chambers of song
and read out the good prayers.

XI.

O! how I have shamed Óðinn, father of poets,
driven him in disgust from me —
far off is any rescue.

XII.

Though she lets you sometimes think
that I have women enough and to spare,
the truth is: she flings me free and bare.

XIII.

Though all women flee from me
and I am driven on the rushing sea,
her I shall trust all the same.

The Settlement

XIV.

Þorbjörn, Gísli, Þorkell — one and all
set their ship to seek the open sea;
long the sail-cloth fluttered.

XV.

A hundred days they tossed to the south
on Ægir's waves across the sea,
often ill-tempered, often grim.

XVI.

Iceland before them laid its shores low;
Dúja and Dröfn bore the ship
into one harbour on Dýrafjörður.

XVII.

Men came from the south side of the fjord
where Haukadalur opens its river mouth;
horses were tied beside the byre.

XVIII.

At this time on both sides of the fjord —
Þorkell at his hall on the Saurar farm
dwelt in Keldudal.

XIX.

His namesake built on the north side of the fjord,
nicknamed "the Wealthy" was he —
at Álviðra he made his home.

XX.

First among the district chieftains
he came to the ship to meet the kinsmen
and welcomed them in every way.

XXI.

On both sides settled were the shores;
men came with wealth held close
and so could buy themselves good land.

XXII.

Þorbjörn Súrr took thus to working —
by the old custom, with
fire and flame he warded his claim.

XXIII.

Land he bought, and freed his goods from the ship,
then raised a hall
at Gæból in Haukadalur.

XXIV.

A wealthy farmer lived in Arnarfjörður —
Vésteinn was his name;
a fair son and daughter he had.

XXV.

Gísli, Þorbjörn Súrr's renowned son,
took Auðr as his wedded bride —
the finest of all women, it was said.

XXVI.

At this time Þorbjörn Selagnúpur
in Tálknafjörður settled and farmed;
the farmer had a daughter, though.

XXVII.

Ásgerður was the young and lovely maiden;
Þorkell, son of Súrr, then
sought her hand and won her.

XXVIII.

Their father, old Þorbjörn Súrr,
old age took into its arms
and bore him down to Hel's hall.

XXIX.

The brothers laid him in a mound, by the old way;
they took over the homestead
and the farm in Haukadalur.

XXX.

In Breiðafjörður a most powerful farmer —
Þorsteinn Þorskabitur was his name;
he settled the farm at Þórnes.

XXXI.

His sons enter now into our saga:
Börkur the Stout is one;
Þorgrímr was the other, his brother.

The Courtship

XXXII.

Þorgrímr, deemed a worthy man,
his errands ever growing,
came one day to Dýrafjörður.

XXXIII.

He came indeed into Haukadalur;
Gísli and Þorkell, the brothers,
bade him lodge at their farmstead.

XXXIV.

A fine feast they cheerfully prepared;
Þórdís, the brothers' sister, bore
the tables forth and served the guests.

XXXV.

Fair seemed the young maiden
to Þorgrímr; he asked for her hand.
The brothers answered well to his suit.

XXXVI.

The wedding was held that very evening;
the warriors cared little
for royal letters and formalities.

XXXVII.

The young couple took one bed together;
the brothers then gave as her dowry
the farm at Sæból.

XXXVIII.

Þorgrímr moved himself west to the farm.
The brothers built another homestead
beyond the river.

XXXIX.

They let the fair hill graze in peace;
the home-fields lay side by side,
divided where the river cuts.

XL.

The kinsmen kindled the warmest friendship;
in that age such a bond
was deemed a precious, not a cold, thing.

The Assembly

XLI.

Thorgrímr chose assembly-men enough for himself
and became a goði then;
from this the brothers profited well.

XLII.

The next spring assembly the bold kinsmen attended;
they let their warships run —
forty men they had.

XLIII.

There was young Vésteinn, Gísli's kinsman;
the company was handsomely arrayed —
golden shields gleamed upon them.

XLIV.

In their fine array the whole company stood —
none fairer to be seen;
the men made their way to the assembly.

XLV.

There was Gestr the Wise, Oddleifr's heir,
with Þorkell the Wealthy beside him;
they governed the booth-seats in silence.

XLVI.

The Haukdalers pitched their tall booth;
the kinsmen in cheerful talk
let the mead-stream flow.

XLVII.

Others were then busy at the courts;
a man came upon the kinsmen —
one of great audacity.

XLVIII.

Arnór was his name; he spoke harsh words:
"You attend to nothing
but lying here snoring in your ale.

XLIX.

Your assembly-men must face their suits alone;
little help they get from you.
All speak of this and complain."

L.

Gísli said: "Let us go to the courts —
perhaps more men say the same,
and much may not be thought well of."

LI.

The four kinsmen went then to the courts;
Þorkell asked if anyone there
had need of their help.

LII.

"Our strength shall not be spared for you —
where all four of us step in,
there will scarce be an empty seat."

LIII.

Þorkell the Wealthy answered thus:
"Should anyone need your aid,
the request will come in time."

LIV.

Many thought it a great show —
the kinsmen's might and splendour.
With that they turned and left.

The Prophecy

LV.

Þorkell the Wealthy spoke then to Gestr:
"How long do you think
this kinsmen's friendship will hold?"

LVI.

Gestr answered: "This may be guessed —
when the third summer comes,
their ways will have changed."

LVII.

These words Arnór also heard;
he ran to the Haukdalers
and told them plainly what was said.

LVIII.

Gísli said: "Much they talk.
Let us beware of this danger
lest their prophecy prove true.

LIX.

I see one good counsel for us:
let the four of us bind today
and strengthen our sworn brotherhood."

The Oath

LX.

On these terms they were all agreed —
they wished to bind themselves in oaths
and walk upon the sacred ground.

LXI.

A strip of earth from Jölnir's bride
they cut, but left both ends
still fastened in the ground.

LXII.

A spear the kinsmen set beneath,
no higher than a hand can reach
to grasp the nail upon the shaft.

LXIII.

All four should walk beneath:
Vésteinn, Gísli, and Þorkell then —
and Þorgrímr was to follow them.

LXIV.

Then all must wet themselves with drops;
let blood flow — there boldness stirs;
they sealed their brothers' bond with earth.

LXV.

Then all fell forward on their knees;
an oath before the sacred gods
they spoke most clearly.

LXVI.

Each shall avenge the other fiercely
should one fall in the dance of blades,
as if he were his very brother.

LXVII.

Here next they were to clasp their hands.
Þorgrímr spoke up:
"Heavy is this obligation.

LXVIII.

Though I would bind oaths with my kinsmen,
we need not, Vésteinn,
bind ourselves to trouble here.

LXIX.

I have no obligation to fall for you."
He drew his hand away.
To this Gísli made reply:

LXX.

"Then our handshake too must wait —
if with my brother Vésteinn
you would break this peace."

LXXI.

Things went from bad to worse; none thought it better.
Gísli spoke then to Þorkell:
"This went as was to be expected.

LXXII.

It will not have gone for nothing."
Nothing more came of those words;
with that, they all rode home.

LXXIII.

Fortunate is he who sows gentle peace;
he who drives it from himself
seeks his own ruin amid good fortune.

LXXIV.

A single moment can often turn to harm;
heavy is the burden of the quarrel
for those who wound the finest peace.

Þriðja Ríma — Third Ríma

Mansöngur

I.

To strike the strings of verse
Wearies the mind with longing;
The good goddess of song, I fear,
Has now forgotten me.

II.

Why does fond Iðunn wish
To turn her favor from me?
I worship and love you alone —
This you may believe.

III.

I feel myself grow numb
And my power drain away;
It may well be that to you
The saga does not please.

IV.

Though my manner falters
At binding the saga's thread,
The verse is dull in fine measure
And baffled in another mode.

V.

Song I shrink from — the saga seems
Devoid of any art;
Evil treacheries and persecutions
Fill it through and through.

Fortune and the Hero

VI.

Yet in the scrolls one finds
What matters most of all —
Gísli in his fame has fared
Most manfully of men.

VII.

Among that folk where peace
Was never marred by cowardice —
He who had to strive with hardship
Was yet most often wise.

VIII.

A wise hero, steadfast, true,
Tested in spirit and strength —
Yet Fortune let her cunning claw
Drive Gísli from her side.

IX.

She is blind, that we know well —
She measures not men's worth;
Therefore oft the wicked and the base
She sets in the highest seats.

X.

Her nature is both want and excess,
Hearts bear bitter witness;
Therefore the wise have long
Sung little praise of her.

XI.

Yet undismayed I raise my voice
And stir the vessels of Odin,
While the embers warm the hall —
Let us bear forth Gísli's tale.

The Timber Trade

XII.

At first from the deep they sailed
Their fair ship to the land;
Two worthy Norwegian brothers
Steered the nail-steed to the shore.

XIII.

Þórir and Þórarinn —
These brothers may be named;
To meet them on this occasion
Þorgrímur set his course.

XIV.

By the slopes he arranged to buy
Great bundles of timber;
The men obtained well-cut lumber
At the price that was agreed.

XV.

The timber first he brought not forth —
The merchants then deemed fit.
But Oddur arranged the Eastmen's lodging
At Eyri in Skutulsfjörður.

XVI.

Then next Þorgrímur sent
His fair heir thither;
To hand over the timber
He bade bold men come.

The Murder on the Heath

XVII.

The timber was found wanting;
The quarrel fell on the brothers —
He met his deadly fate:
The spear stood in the brain.

XVIII.

Rage compels Þorgrímr —
He goes to seek the thralls;
Up on the heath he found them then,
Where they were taking their meal.

XIX.

He draws the sword, swift for vengeance,
The iron-hardener strikes;
Both brothers fall beneath his blade —
The ground runs red with blood.

XX.

Where the hot blood of swords ran
Down the mountain's ledge,
There is known the Eastmen's fall
And the cairn that holds them both.

The Sea Voyages

XXI.

From this the stream of renown
Was won upon the water's field;
When spring brought its warmth again,
The brothers' ship set sail.

XXII.

Forth on the wave the ship floats,
Draped in the sail-cloth's fold;
Þorkell follows the arrow-tree —
The fjord sends up its spray.

XXIII.

Through the whale's ford they weave their way,
The noble-born of the wind;
The sea-god's steeds press onward,
The wave-norns hold their ground.

XXIV.

The wind's pin drives toward Norway,
The serpent-ship surges on;
They moor the ferry and bravely walk
Upon the groves of Freyr.

XXV.

We tell that Gísli then
Bought blades of shining worth;
The champion resolved across the lands
To make a lengthy voyage.

XXVI.

Vésteinn too makes the same resolve,
Daring the same bold course —
From Skeljavík with the sailcloth's hem
He lets the ship be hauled.

XXVII.

No less the sea then plays
Against the kinsmen's ship;
Waves eddy about the boards,
The wind bears onward still.

XXVIII.

The wave at times flung up the sail,
The wind showed scant mercy;
A hundred days of hull-endurance
They bore beneath the billow.

XXIX.

Storms followed their full course
Onward to Hordaland;
But there they fared ill —
The serpent-ship came to harm.

XXX.

Tall ships met the savage play
Of breakers in the shallows;
Yet the men saved wealth and life
From the danger all the same.

XXXI.

A worthy chief then joined the voyage
Across the broad farmsteads;
His name was Skegg-Bjálfi — on his ship
He held course toward the Danes.

XXXII.

Gísli bore the winter's watch
And Vésteinn likewise in peace;
Honors and treasure of the waters
Were lavished upon them both.

XXXIII.

When spring's milder season
Made the winds grow calm,
Bjálfi readied his ship to sail
From Bólmey through the ice.

XXXIV.

Gísli carries his goods to the river,
Following the spear-brand's way;
But Vésteinn travels to meet friends
Westward to England.

XXXV.

The kinsmen part then at the strand,
Bjálfi spreads the sail-cloth;
The force of billows bears onward
The wave-wet travellers.

XXXVI.

Storms foam across the wide sea,
Rán's daughters keep their watch,
Until the clear sky reveals
The islands of the wave-bench.

XXXVII.

The men eagerly seek land,
The sail-belt slackens;
The oar-spirit drives them strongly
Into Dýrafjörður.

XXXVIII.

Paths parted then between them,
Bjálfi kept the ship;
Sturdy Gísli rides for home —
Rich in fortune was the journey.

At Home in Haukadalur

XXXIX.

There await Þorgrímur
And Þorkell, Gísli's brother —
Each has used the fair wind
Over the wave-moor's course.

XL.

Gain and honor have the men
Won for themselves in life;
Greatly the kinsmen rejoice
When all have come safe home.

XLI.

Þorkell settles at his high seat,
Back at Hóll in state —
Proud and idle, small in industry,
He seemed content enough.

XLII.

Gísli labors as best he can
To build up the homestead;
Needful for both their farms,
He toils both night and day.

XLIII.

When the weather falls fair,
The bold one summons his men,
Calling each in his turn
To tend the meadow-work.

XLIV.

Þorkell stays behind alone,
Sleeping in the fire-hall
After the meal — for never once
Does he tend the meadow-work.

The Women's Words

XLV.

The fire-hall was no cramped place,
The abode of Sif's elf;
We reckon its length at twenty
And its breadth at ten full fathoms.

XLVI.

Þorkell lay there undisturbed,
None came to visit that place;
Then Auður and Ásgerður
Sat outside in the bower.

XLVII.

Þorkell threw aside his covers,
Hearing the women's chatter;
The bold one of the flame-tarn
Crept closer to the bower.

XLVIII.

Then Ásgerður turns,
Kindly chatting with the other:
"Auður, cut a tunic for me —
My husband shall have it."

XLIX.

The lady of the serpent-slope
Gave her measured answer:
"I could perhaps better manage
To cut the garment for him."

L.

"I know you are skilled to see
And serve the worthy well —
If you would render service then
To Vésteinn, my own brother."

LI.

"I will confirm that tale,"
Said the other with a sigh —
"For I can ill endure:
My friend has gone from me."

LII.

"If I knew, dear," Auður says,
"All about both their affairs —
Let us both hold our tongues:
All went as it should."

LIII.

"No blame in that falls on me,"
Answers the lady —
"Vésteinn the brave was chosen,
But I know some feeling lives."

LIV.

"You sought Þorgrímr's company,
Attending to both their needs,
Before the bride's bright ground
Was laid in Gísli's arms."

LV.

Auður found her answer then:
"There was no seeking in it —
Gísli was the first of men
Whose embrace I let be taken."

LVI.

"Such chatter lets us idle —
Folly leads itself astray."
Þorkell marked all this; he goes
To them and speaks:

LVII.

"Hear this! hear these words!
Hear what is greater still —
Men struck in the wound-stream,
One or maybe more!"

LVIII.

Auður hurries in from the porch,
From the bower, declaring:
"Ill from women's careless words
Has always come to pass."

LIX.

"My gentle maidens,
I dare say this:
Often and many a time
It were just as well to hold your tongue."

LX.

"Bury down your thievish hearts,
That bear the greater blame;
For your tongue is just as soft
As all your other limbs."

Fjórða Ríma — Fourth Ríma

Mansöngur

I.

Sweet would it be if I could share
With noble maidens, with friends,
With wise women — my trembling croon.

II.

All the boldness alarms me, for always I have
Attended maidens when love-fever struck —
And sometimes many others too.

III.

I have had the praise of women in these very notes;
For that, among fair maidens,
I have found joy in many love-ways.

IV.

Many a man who would raise up learned words
Has blamed the fairest women,
Yet leans toward women's warmth.

V.

They have cried to heaven with a shout
That women's temper is poorly governed
And never can they be restrained.

VI.

That they snap ill-words about our settlements,
And themselves forge lies,
Reproach kinship and hide virtue.

VII.

That they do not conceal their own clans' faults
If they can do others harm —
And strive to multiply the crimes.

VIII.

That they have poisoned hearts and words alike,
Of faithless, bewitching mind,
Who can never keep true faith.

IX.

Sated am I of their words about gentle women.
Sooner would I burn upon a pyre
Than take up this strain of verse.

X.

Sooner shall I lose my hands, my head, my light,
And fall entirely from this world,
Than heed the counsel of such fools.

XI.

O no, maidens! Be unafraid —
There I shall bear the burden
And put all their prattle to shame.

XII.

As I trust in you, if all must be told —
Though death's own pains should bend me —
With me you all would face the end.

The Domestic Storm

XIII.

The housewives, brooding on their trouble,
Left off their cheerful talk —
Red as blood in the face.

XIV.

Auður said: "It is hard for us to counsel our way out."
Ásgerður gave her answer clear:
"I shall not dread this matter.

XV.

"When I lie with Þorkell on our shared bed
And spread my arms about his neck,
I think he will have lost his anger."

XVI.

"He will hold this all a monstrous lie."
"This approach," said Auður,
"I do not think can avail.

XVII.

"I will tell Gísli all the words we spoke
And bid him counsel us as best he can
When next we come to speak in peace."

XVIII.

Gísli came home from the hayfields when dusk drew near.
Þorkell was in heavy spirits;
And Gísli spoke to him thus:

XIX.

"Is something troubling you, kinsman?" he turned his speech.
"It is worse for me than for one who is sick —
Let us not match these matters in words."

XX.

Þorkell refused all food — and then to his rest
He went with anger and sullenness,
And lay beneath the foul bedclothes.

XXI.

Ásgerður too began to take off her clothes;
She wished to lie down likewise —
But her husband composed his speech:

XXII.

"I have resolved tonight not to lie
With you, my dear, upon one bed."
Again the woman answered:

XXIII.

"What does this mean — shall we change our ways?"
"It is best to say nothing of it."
Then the farmer spoke once more.

XXIV.

"Then I shall no longer," said the woman,
"Force myself upon the bed — no more shall I be troubled.
Choose whatever terms suit you.

XXV.

"Embrace me and do not stand on wounded pride;
Forget all those other habits
That seemed to bring advantage.

XXVI.

"Otherwise I declare I will part from you.
The dowry you may reckon
And return to me, if this you choose.

XXVII.

"Then I shall not crowd you in the bed this time.
Sleep alone with your ill-temper —
I will govern my own conduct."

XXVIII.

Þorkell lay in silence, biting into his pillow.
At last he managed to say:
"Do whichever you prefer.

XXIX.

"I will not bar you from the bed tonight."
The resourceful woman, generous in spirit,
Now made her way to rest.

XXX.

She lay down — and what had been foretold came to pass:
All anger in the bed was soothed,
Though the counsel held a heavy burden.

XXXI.

Clear it is to me that the remedy for foul sulking
Is to hide beneath the bedclothes
And embrace a fair woman in a wretched rest.

XXXII.

Whenever women stretch love's cords around us,
The maidens become spark-eyed —
In some measure almighty.

XXXIII.

Quite naked they kindle in us a certain fire;
Our powers are of no avail —
Our minds become ungovernable.

XXXIV.

The greatest heroes in the world one could find —
All that they could overcome —
Often has a woman conquered.

XXXV.

I believe men test their strength against women,
Those who are not made of stone
But, like me, of flesh and bone.

XXXVI.

Auður likewise came to bed beside her husband,
Whispered to him all the words of both —
And wished her husband's anger would soften.

XXXVII.

Gísli answered: "There is nothing to be done.
Always someone must stand ready
To bear the speech of fate."

XXXVIII.

The winter wore on, and spring shone bright.
Then Þorkell came to Gísli
And spoke these words to him:

XXXIX.

"So it is arranged, my friend — I wish to leave.
Let noble kinsmen found their farms,
And each hearken to what is right.

XL.

"With Þorgrímr our kinsman I shall dwell."
This was little to Gísli's liking.
Wisely he managed to say:

XLI.

"Brothers' wealth is best shared in one household —
I would wish you stayed at home."
But the man answers with dull resolve:

XLII.

"Leave I shall. But first I move my goods;
The land shall be yours to hold,
And of the loose property we will speak."

XLIII.

So it came to pass that these noble kinsmen
Divided their estate.
Their dependents they shared out likewise.

XLIV.

Two children had been born to the brothers' household —
Guðrúður was the name of the maiden,
And Geirmundur I count the boy.

XLV.

Þorkell took the boy and departed quickly.
The maiden Gísli got to foster.
So the time passed into winter.

XLVI.

Then the winter sacrifice was held, and fair feasts.
Gísli managed to invite men
From the settlements to the horn-flood.

XLVII.

Never did Gísli practice sacrifice or love the gods,
Yet to his fine friends, cheerful in talk,
He made feasts nonetheless.

XLVIII.

A throng of men came there from the Fjords.
To these Auður spoke her words
Before the men went to the tables:

XLIX.

"Missing here is my friend, the warmest companion —
Would that Vésteinn had come!
I wish he would bring himself to our company."

L.

It was then said that Vésteinn had come from overseas
And that he would head this way
And bring the dear hero swiftly.

LI.

Gísli said: "Least of all would I choose
That Vésteinn should visit these halls —
Though his friendship burns toward us."

LII.

Þorgrímr was his name — bold-hearted, thought brave.
He was also called "The Nose"
And dwelt at Nefstaðir.

LIII.

This one practiced sorcerous seiðr and tried enchantment —
A grey-natured fiend of spells,
Greatly destroying good custom.

LIV.

Þorgrímr and Þorkell bade this man
Come and be at the feast with them,
For he had deadly work to do.

LV.

The wretch was to forge a spear with sorcerous arts
From the ancient fragments of Grásíða,
So it might come to use once more.

LVI.

Þorkell and both the Þorgríms —
All took part in the forging,
And none might know their dealings.

LVII.

Let us turn to Vésteinn, riding west to the Fjords.
The bold-hearted one came
Into Haukadalr before long.

LVIII.

Over the fields at Sæból he drives boldly;
Geirmundur and the serving-girl
Were by the farm, tending cattle.

LIX.

The maid tended the calves in the cattle-yard;
Geirmundur, that worthy lad,
Rode a golden-maned horse, finely adorned.

LX.

Vésteinn recognized the fair boy and spoke with him.
But the boy bade the warrior quickly:
"It is not fitting to tarry here.

LXI.

"Be careful and turn away from here.
Much has changed in the settlements
Since you left on the broad road."

LXII.

Vésteinn rode on home to Hól, and entered the house.
He took his seat, welcomed without grudge,
Self-invited to the hall's feast-flow.

LXIII.

The serving-girl had told her masters
That past the farm a warrior rode in splendid garb
And presently had reached Hól.

LXIV.

Þorgrímr bade a servant go thither
To find out what she could learn.
The byre-maid did as she was bidden.

LXV.

In the passage Gísli met the dull maid.
Little was to be had in the way of knowledge —
Foul and short was their exchange.

LXVI.

He barred the door. The flustered girl ran home.
Little wisdom had she gained, it seemed —
But now all looked westward toward death.

LXVII.

The feast broke up when the wine had dizzied all.
I sit with such a bowl myself —
The ríma should yield its pleasure.

LXVIII.

There is nothing more to tell about these days.
Good night, Gísla saga —
Reward me with praise for the verse.

Fimmta Ríma — Fifth Ríma

Mansöngur

I.

Better than sitting with a hanging head,
Plagued by weariness,
Is to pour forth a torrent of lore —
The fair-fingered maiden that I chose.

II.

When you gather your three griefs
And forget to come home,
Glory descends upon the harp —
In time, she may be stirred.

III.

To murmur on the marten's string
Though it go badly for me —
Long have I labored at these tones
When bold men lent their ears.

IV.

The wind sweeps friends' legacies away
Across the storm-land of strife —
When the spirit can find no peace,
The sharpest wound is the comb of thought.

V.

Fortune, that fickle power
In which most men place trust,
Has barely grazed me in passing —
Though it seemed to offer itself.

VI.

Boasting mingles with honor
And weaves its guilty pride —
The devil's wretched creature,
Finding fault on either side.

VII.

The heights of power are also unsteady,
Bound up in a yoke of trouble —
Though men may carve their mark upon it,
Fortune shakes loose from there as well.

VIII.

Over such trifles do people wrestle,
Who can make the least of things —
But I, with song and the company of women,
Drive all anger from my breast.

IX.

Sometimes pour the brimming cup
And set the strings of Bragi singing,
Wrap the gold-ringed lady in your arms —
Glad is the heart of both.

X.

Bright is my eye and spirit —
I have this habit for a reason:
To sing and jest and play my part
While the world's ghosts pity themselves.

XI.

Often heavy streams of sorrow
Come drifting my way —
Yet I must wade onward along the planks,
Cutting past all true difficulty.

XII.

The weather is heavy on me today —
Much sharpness in the answers.
To that, only silence falls,
But the friend of the saga demands his verse.

Vésteinn's Dark Dreams

XIII.

Gísli is not forgotten by me —
Let us turn to his tale:
The champion is at home at Hóll,
But dreams go badly for him.

XIV.

Two nights together now —
While others found their sleep,
It went badly, nothing was still:
The feet of fate pressed forward.

The Storm

XV.

But when on the third night the folk
Turned themselves to bed,
The weather's voice struck with force —
The gale trampled the door aloud.

XVI.

Storms wailed over the mountain passes,
Flood-squalls of rain —
The air shrieked and shook
Houses, stones, and the very ground.

XVII.

Waters spat upon the fields,
The wild storm-waves surging —
Their steep blows
Tore the very roofing from the houses.

XVIII.

The houses flooded with heaven's rain,
Fierce squalls raged on —
Women cried out in alarm,
Bold men found barely room to stand.

XIX.

Gísli sprang — the boldest —
Swiftly from his warm bed;
He roused his men to follow,
That they might rush out from the farm.

XX.

Inside, Vésteinn and Auður
Were already abed,
And the thrall who attended them —
Þórður was his name.

XXI.

All the others went with Gísli
Outside to tend the hay —
The storm's fury rumbled on
And rain fell through the black night.

XXII.

Ugly and sharp the sounds one hears
As the gale rages round the houses;
Vésteinn lies awake,
Bare-limbed beneath the coverlet.

The Murder

XXIII.

Not a sound was heard —
The cold poison-shaft
Found the man in his bed:
Pierced through the breast he was.

XXIV.

The stricken man cried out:
"The shaft struck its mark!"
He tried to rise — but fell,
Robbed of his breath.

XXV.

The spear held fast in the wound —
It belonged to the killer;
A secret murder, the wise call it,
A prophecy of battle fulfilled.

XXVI.

Whoever seized that brand
From the red peril —
It was needful then to stand
And find vengeance in the dark of shields.

Auður's Grief

XXVII.

Auður weeps — the dove of sorrows
Keens her grief aloud;
Blood welled about dead Vésteinn,
The red weapon standing in his heart.

XXVIII.

She bade Þórður the thrall
To draw Odin's fire from the wound —
But cowardice seized his heart,
And frightened, he crept away to hide.

Gísli Draws the Blade

XXIX.

Gísli came then to the doorway,
Entered, and saw
The man who lay at death's threshold —
And drew the dark blade from the wound.

XXX.

The blade, stained red with blood,
He thrust into a chest —
He showed it to no man,
But vengeance's ember burned in his heart.

XXXI.

He prepared the body then
After the custom of the age;
Vésteinn dead — men grieved,
And friends bore many cares.

The Spy at Sæból

XXXII.

To Guðríðr Gísli spoke,
Addressing the young maiden:
"Fair lady — to Sæból go,
Observe the people there and mark

XXXIII.

What the men are about —
I trust you in this matter:
Bring me true tidings of it all."
The maiden then set off.

XXXIV.

The gentle maiden quickly
Reached the far farmstead,
Swift on her feet —
The bright one flew.

XXXV.

Wrapped in grey mantles
The noble men sat;
The benches bore men
With wound-wolves in their fists.

XXXVI.

Slow greetings the maiden received —
Little was smooth in their talk;
She told them of Vésteinn's murder,
And Þorkell spoke these words:

The Funeral Procession

XXXVII.

"This news might well have waited
For better times, of friendship" —
The folk thought that matter done.
Þorgrímr then changed the talk at once:

XXXVIII.

"Here is a man who has fallen —
One who deserves honor from his kin.
Let us hasten then
To give him the best of funerals."

XXXIX.

"Truly, what is seen here demands
That we prepare the procession
And follow him to his rest —
Bear that word to Gísli's wife."

XL.

The maiden went to Gísli
And bore the answers back;
Heavy were the tidings
She carried from the serpent's plain.

XLI.

Þorgrímr bore a hard helm
And gripped the wound-boar's blade,
While Þorkell held a slender sword
As though he needed the battle-grip.

XLII.

There was Þorgrímr Nef
Among the funeral party,
And at the farm each man
Bore a sharpened spear in his fist.

XLIII.

Gísli tended the slain man's body
And led the men who bore it
Up to high Sandmóll —
There to raise a mound over the fallen.

XLIV.

North of Sæból
The men raised up a mound;
Gísli watched the others
Who kept their ground from him.

XLV.

Þorgrímr's men came
In numbers with him;
The neighbors built the mound high
To lay the fallen man within.

The Death-Shoes

XLVI.

Such was Þorgrímr's answer:
"Those who depart from the world
Shall have death-shoes lent, as custom demands,
To wear upon the road to Valhalla."

XLVII.

"To Vésteinn I now offer
This service of friendship" —
And so he bound the shoes upon him;
When that was done, he spoke:

XLVIII.

"I cannot bind these death-shoes well —
Let it be known among men:
If the bindings come loose
From his feet on the road to Hel."

At the Mound

XLIX.

When he was laid beneath the mound
The noble kinsmen sat;
None betrayed what they felt —
Then Þorkell spoke his piece:

L.

"Is not Auður undone by grief?"
Gísli answered: "One might say
That grief made her feet slow —
Little she stirred."

LI.

"I dreamed true dreams,"
Says fair Gísli,
"Though one can barely speak of it —
The killing crossed all expectation."

LII.

"I saw a viper coil
From a certain farmstead —
Its fangs flashed
Upon dead Vésteinn's breast."

LIII.

"Tell this to no one else,"
He said, with quiet will —
"Of this matter, silence is best."
Then the ring-bender spoke a verse:

LIV.

"Better we thought it, Vésteinn,
When the truth was yet in view,
When we sat together here
And let the mead-horns freely flow."

LV.

Þorkell asked about Auður then
A second time:
How had her brother's death struck her —
How bore the ring-maiden her grief?

LVI.

"Often you ask of this, kinsman" —
Fair Gísli answered;
The wise one spoke another verse,
And the men departed.

The Brothers' Conference

LVII.

The brothers walked together past the yard,
Alone now —
And Þorkell began to speak:
"Heavy matters are heading our way."

LVIII.

"Sorrows I see stretching,
Dear brother, across your mind —
What goes farthest goes with cunning,
Yet I bear what stirs within."

LIX.

"I wish to show as little as I may
Of what men feel within —
Though things may grow worse from here,
Nothing looks toward the better."

LX.

"For your sake," said Gísli,
"This will go ill —
And just the same if it strikes again,
If I win what the fallen man asks."

LXI.

"It could yet turn out well
Before the moment passes."
"So it shall be," said Þorkell —
And the men turned back to the yard.

The Funeral Feast

LXII.

Bold men at Hóll
Let the horns be borne —
They set their cares aside
And drank Vésteinn's funeral ale.

LXIII.

It serves no purpose to linger
Beside heavy loads of sorrow —
For those whom fortune attends,
The longing to dwell in grief must pass.

LXIV.

The very pillar of the world
Sometimes stumbles —
And if contentment rights itself,
A dear friend seldom mends the loss.

Sjötta Ríma — Sixth Ríma

Mansongur

I.
I have the raven's fair feather on my shaft —
This composing craft is mine,
If now the flight should fail me.

II.
Then shall I let my rest lie braided at home —
Alone she may become the question,
For I will want to travel then.

III.
Then shall I fly over mountains and peaks,
Through wood and wind or storm —
Unstoppable I become nonetheless.

IV.
My friends' company I will find —
North by Vestrhop,
At Holar I sit myself down.

V.
I should find the judgment of holy princes,
Thanks if she would grant that silence —
To him a polished poem brought.

VI.
And so from there to see various places,
Where I never once resided —
So pausing here and there.

VII.
With the northern skalds I would trade in words,
Performing what they have of fair report,
And recalling the old staves.

VIII.
Northern maidens many say are fair —
If I traveled through nearby lands,
It would be just as fine to gaze on them.

IX.
Some might enjoy my verses —
Let me stay and like the bargain,
Offering a cup of little chat.

X.
If luck should grant me this winter,
I could gain the word of fortune from the norn —
Eighteen winters' seed of time.

XI.
Weak is the flight though habit lifts the heart —
I find that something yet remains,
With all the struggle I sit here.

XII.
Such journeys I grow fearful of —
These devilish temptations
Tear at the spirit's gifts.

XIII.
Of all this which I have spoken,
I find still that branch of learning:
The feather can draw but briefly alone.

XIV.
I may sit now and tend to my saga;
After this I find repentance —
Badly I sang the mansongur.

The Ball Game

XV.
The newest contest the nimble men raised —
Truly I wrap the tale in words,
Better than any in Haukadal.

XVI.
The ball game the brave men began —
Gisli against Thorgrimr then
Contended, and the game was high.

XVII.
Often among men it came to be debated
Who bore the greater prowess —
Most held it was Gisli, though.

XVIII.
On a certain tarn they matched in defense and attack —
Beside Vesteinn's ring-hoard it was,
Keen men contended there.

XIX.
One day when the weather was fair,
A crowd of men set forth —
From the Fjords to seek that game.

XX.
Gisli said: "I tire of matching
Thorgrimr alone at the game —
Let others try — come forward!"

XXI.
The men said: "We have both seen
You hold yourself back against Thorgrimr —
About that, the talk runs free."

XXII.
"Which of you reins his strength the less —
Men say you hold yourself back,
But keep not that custom now."

XXIII.
"All here we bear in honor —
If more is in you,
Lord, let it be seen."

XXIV.
The wise man said: "It may be put to the test."
Then the men played on —
Gisli increased his attack.

XXV.
Thorgrimr barely fared better in the match —
He lost the ball he should have held,
And the ground kissed him as he fell.

XXVI.
Skin scraped now from his knees and shins —
Blood from the wounds began to flow,
And the pale arm's master spoke.

XXVII.
At Vesteinn's mound he cast his eye and spoke:
"In wounds I clashed, before men I stood —
Spear-fast, and none may blame me."

XXVIII.
Gisli, eager for the struggle, took the ball —
He drove his shoulders upon him,
And Thorgrimr fell once more.

XXIX.
Then spoke the arm-ring's tree:
"The ball-bearer's pillar broke —
But one can hardly blame."

XXX.
Thorkell said: "This here we all can see —
Who bears the greater might,
The sword-lord, and best at all things."

XXXI.
"Now this game-play shall be settled."
With that the games were ended —
To their own lands each man went.

The Blot Feast

XXXII.
Little then fell between keen men —
But as this can be told, the swift season
Prepared the winter-nights' sacrifice.

XXXIII.
Thorgrimr bade Borkr his strong brother
And Thord with his kin —
Those whom one may call Eyjolfr.

XXXIV.
Many other men of might likewise
He called unto himself —
To take their joy and sacrifice to Freyr.

XXXV.
Gisli invited his neighbors far and wide,
And from Onundarfjord
All worthy kinsmen there.

XXXVI.
At Saebol the hall-trees hung the tapestries —
And Thorgrimr, full of mirth,
Spoke to Thorkell:

XXXVII.
"That gift from Gisli bid you fetch for us —
The fine tapestry to lend,
Which Vesteinn in his death gave him."

XXXVIII.
"All he knows, as a head can judge,"
Thorkell answered — "Therefore
This request I will not ask."

XXXIX.
Grimr said: "Then I will send someone —"
To Geirmund he said: "Go along!"
But he would not do it.

XL.
But Thorgrimr went to the young lad —
A blow upon his cheek he struck,
And said he should go nonetheless.

XLI.
The young one answered: "I shall go then —
But surely I wish payment for it,
If the errand can so be paid for."

XLII.
Geiri went and spoke lightly to Gisli,
And delivered the message —
The ring-protector replied:

XLIII.
"Will you, Audur, lend our neighbor
The hall-tapestries with their colors?"
The sea-dame spoke:

XLIV.
"I know well where this tends —
To honor's lord or any other,
Neither this nor anything else will I."

XLV.
Gisli the generous put gifts into the hands
Of him who waited for them there,
And with him set out on the way.

The Plot

XLVI.
He declared: "This errand I have
Rightly and well prepared —
Such a payment you might offer."

XLVII.
"Likewise you ought to help me in return —
Every gift earns its payment,
And a service I desire from you."

XLVIII.
"Leave the doors unlocked tonight —
If that cheek-slap from Thorgrimr
You wish to remember."

XLIX.
"Against Thorkell I will plot no treachery,"
Geiri declared, loyal in service —
The keeper of his oath refused.

L.
The boy said: "As you may ask,
It may yet come to pass —"
And with that he went on his way.

LI.
The man returned home with the fine tapestries —
He flung them to the thanes;
Thorkell said: 'A trial, then.'

LII.
"Most patient is my brother Gisli —
Less would we have changed
That man, than befits us."

LIII.
Thorgrimr said: "His counsel is better —
Ours not to spoil the friendship."
The men hung up the tapestry.

The Feast

LIV.
Then in the evening a crowd rode thither —
Each armed with sharpened weapons,
Borkr the Stout and Eyjolfr.

LV.
At this gathering there were a hundred men —
In the hall the company divided,
And the drinking-hall hummed with life.

LVI.
Gisli also let his hall shine bright —
Half a hundred men were there,
And the champions drained the horns.

LVII.
On price and measure men there did not stint —
Like one with eager greed
Who holds the storehouse key.

LVIII.
The ancient mead softened the fathers' horns —
On broad oaken boards
The beer flowed freely then.

LIX.
Gisli served well of the potent mead —
Most heads grew heavy and drowsy,
And men went to sleep that night.

The Revenge

LX.
The farmer readied his rings at the hall-door:
"To the horses I must rush —
I need to go and see to them."

LXI.
"Wait in the chamber, bride, meanwhile —
When I come knocking again,
You shall draw back the bolts."

LXII.
That weapon which dealt Vesteinn harm —
He drew it from the chest,
And grimly turned from the house.

LXIII.
To Saebol the wealthy warrior turned —
The chieftain was known to him,
The sword-ruler who dwelt there.

LXIV.
First he went into the cowshed —
Thirty cattle bellowing in their stalls,
On either side he counted them.

LXV.
Done with sport, the hero swiftly
Tied all the cattle's tails together —
Then turned out without delay.

LXVI.
The mighty hero found the farmhouse door —
The doors were not locked,
And in he let himself.

LXVII.
Into the hall the steel-tree peered —
By the shadows he crept along,
And saw in bed one waking man.

LXVIII.
One with her held as if to kindle the light —
The light was quenched, and Gisli walked
Through the passages, groping swiftly.

LXIX.
To Thorgrimr's bed he groped and found
In dark slumber his sister sleeping —
She lay by the bedpost in her husband's room.

LXX.
The woman woke and spoke to her husband:
'Your hand is cold tonight,
My lord — so terribly cold.'

LXXI.
Thorgrimr murmured in the darkness:
'I shall turn to you then —
If things now go better.'

LXXII.
Gisli stood a while by the bedpost, waiting —
In his cloak he warmed his hand,
For the harm he had to work.

LXXIII.
Then on Thorgrimr a cruel peace he laid —
Through the man drove Grasida,
And the spear stood in the bed.

LXXIV.
The blood poured over the bed, and the woman beside —
So mightily was it driven
That in no way could it fall.

LXXV.
Vengefulness spurns honor often —
Treachery repaid with treachery
Has seldom increased the peace.

LXXVI.
One remedy for the ugly deed:
The wise people say, I know —
That every justice finds its balance.

Sjöunda Ríma — Seventh Ríma

Mansongur

I.
To each his craft comes calling still,
To the cunning and the wise —
My long delight in the play of verse
I set upon the same foundations.

II.
Dark ill-temper, the mean spirit
That disgust has made so ugly,
Would lull my mind to rest at home —
Yet nowhere to any remedy.

III.
When she hears the singing rise on high,
She cannot crowd in upon me —
The wraith wearies of the pure,
For most men dread the songs of ghosts.

IV.
In this may Idunn herself see —
If the spirit suffers its trials,
Small vexations and the heart's longing
I have often sung from me.

V.
Grant me also now the power,
Idunn, to tear loose my songs,
That I may upon my other foes
Work strokes of verse as well.

VI.
Those cruel ones who work great harm,
Who murder skill yet hope for vengeance —
If my prayer should find its mark,
I would begin their death thus:

VII.
May venom spread upon those evil few,
As that which gripped the Python —
May their play live on and on
And leave behind no end of torment.

VIII.
Their frenzy's effects, which no defense
Could withstand or turn aside —
On glowing coals their innards,
Stung by poison-darts, to burn.

IX.
And so might it grow and swell
Within them for the longest ages,
As the monster tears and gnaws —
So never-ceasing the storms of torment.

X.
Best to be silent and contain my wrath —
Steal no man's accustomed wisdom;
The prayer would not fare well
If I were to lengthen it.

XI.
Better to strew the poet's straw
And serve the seat of fewer friends —
To gaze upon the saga's joy
And tame the stubborn ill temper.

XII.
I let sound these uncouth songs
Of the lands' gleam and ancient times,
Of holy dooms in hardy verse —
Best when honor's plenty adorns.

The Discovery

XIII.
When Hel's cold hands
Had seized the fallen Thorgrimr,
Thordis cried out in anguish —
She bid all men to wake.

XIV.
"My husband in his bed
Is stabbed to death by treachery!"
They searched for Gisli on the paths —
Out from the hall along the straight way.

XV.
From the farm he'd walked out to the river —
The fastest tracks led thither;
Through the bright cowshed he'd passed,
And out that way he had escaped.

XVI.
He bolted the door behind him,
Then traced the road back sideways —
He shambles home and lies on his bed,
Cheerful, as if nothing were the matter.

XVII.
At Saebol the household panics —
Ale-glad, they rub their heads;
No one among them knows
What trouble had befallen them.

XVIII.
Then Eyjolfr weaves his words,
Shaking the ale from his wits:
"Here is utter foolishness —
All the folk are robbed and broken!"

XIX.
"Light the lamps about the hall —
Men, kindle light and search for the body!
Set a guard, so that the slayer
Cannot escape from the homestead!"

XX.
The men search and make their rounds —
No outsider can be found;
Someone within the household,
They think, must have caused this harm.

XXI.
At last the daylight broke —
No further search avails;
They lay dead Thorgrimr down,
And heavy grief seizes all the women.

The Frosty Shoe

XXII.
They journey home to Holl
To hold the funeral anew;
Gisli has warmed himself in shelter,
Lying easy in his bed.

XXIII.
Thorkell turns to Gisli's bed —
The hero tears sleep from his eyes;
The warrior of the shining sand
Sees the frosty shoe beside the bedpost.

XXIV.
This he pushes beneath the bedboard —
He wants no other eyes to see;
So that the men within the house
May take no suspicion from the sight.

The Funeral

XXV.
Gisli greets the men and asks
For the news to be told —
Thorgrimr's warriors, bound in grief;
The lord of mighty words then speaks:

XXVI.
"Short is the distance, surely,
Between evil deeds and great designs."
Now with skill the farmer readied himself —
He offered to fill the neighbors' gathering.

XXVII.
"Such you offer us here,"
The warrior answered, accepting;
This was quickly received —
And all set forth together.

XXVIII.
Swiftly they raised the mound —
It grew and would not be less;
They laid the dead man's body in a ship,
And closed the mound's dark hall.

XXIX.
Gisli hoisted an enormous stone —
He bore it there across the meadow;
Like ice the ship trembled under the weight,
The whole hull nearly breaking.

XXX.
This the wise and mighty warrior said,
The bender of weapons:
"I found no ship that could hold —
Not if the wind takes this weight."

XXXI.
Home then from the mound they rode —
The sharp-sworded warriors;
Gisli spoke to Thorkell then:
"Now I claim a service from you."

XXXII.
"I bid now, as you surely promised
When Vesteinn we carried to his grave —
That the brothers' friendship now be best
Between us both." "Yes," said Thorkell.

The Funeral Feast

XXXIII.
The worthy men took to the feast —
The wine flowed generously;
After Thorgrimr was laid to rest,
They needed to drain the horns more deeply.

XXXIV.
The excess pleased the bold ones there,
And men fell sprawling on their backs —
Some leaned so far into the wine
They would not think to count the drops.

XXXV.
The glad fathers of the ancient age
Filled the mead-horns to the brim;
The bark-roads were well wetted then —
But their hangovers were less.

XXXVI.
The feast at both homesteads ended;
Borkr left gladly from the cups;
Gisli tended his company
And honored the dead with wise gifts.

The Sorcery

XXXVII.
Borkr from there spurred his horse —
Thorgrimr Nef lets himself be consoled;
The cold one seeks to quench his unrest,
If now some sorcery might be brewed.

XXXVIII.
"On the man who killed Thorgrimr,
The spell of sorcery shall strike —
So that in this world of hatred
All may see him for what he is."

XXXIX.
They let their ugly counsel stand,
Thinking little of the better way —
The sorcery-fiend received
A fat ox of nine winters.

XL.
The spell-hound builds himself a platform
And works his seidr upon a crag;
The dark spirit turns the working
To rouse the fiend's wrath.

XLI.
Most villainously he sang the seidr —
Black staves the wretch inscribed;
Along all paths the curse led —
The land cursed by this sorcery-man.

Borkr and Thordis

XLII.
At Saebol high Borkr claimed
The dead man's property and goods;
The serpent-bride of the fallen
He wrapped then in his arms.

XLIII.
The woman was not alone
In what sad news there would be —
Next Thordis bore a son,
And let him bear Thorgrimr's name.

XLIV.
But at the naming it was changed —
A fair man gave the announcement;
They turned the name, and that clever lad
They afterwards called Snorri godi.

XLV.
There Borkr dwelt unmoved
In fine company with his wise wife —
The men took what they could;
None thought himself without his peers.

Audbjorg the Witch

XLVI.
Mentioned yet must be Audbjorg —
A blameworthy woman in her dwelling;
She practiced witchcraft and sorcery's art,
Despising all good custom.

XLVII.
She was the sister of Thorgrimr Nef —
Few virtues she kept;
The dark woman of the sorcerer's art
Had a boy, and his name was Thorsteinn.

The Second Ball Game

XLVIII.
The men went to the games
As told, about the winter-time —
Not with swords but at the ball-game,
Borkr contended with the lad.

XLIX.
Borkr could not endure it —
He was forced to flee and turn;
Rage burned his pride —
He broke Thorsteinn's ball-bat.

L.
Down on the ice fell Borkr —
The mail-clad warrior drove him down
With a hard blow of the hard bat;
And here before Gisli's eyes it happened.

LI.
Gisli urged in the match
That Steinn should hold back less —
He lent him a ball-bat;
The strong blow found its mark on the man.

The Verse at the Mound

LII.
By Thorgrimr's mound then —
The warrior rolled the stones aside;
He spoke a verse then,
Which to fair halls might bring sorrow:

LIII.
"I in the field found the staves —
The count of Thorgrimr's secret hide;
The battle-light's rune-thread
On the slippery track brought harm."

LIV.
Thordis, Gisli's sister, caught
The clues and read their meaning;
The poet, foolish in his art,
Was betrayed — the woman burned with understanding.

The Landslide

LV.
Thorsteinn broke off the game —
The bold men flowed homeward as dusk fell;
And Bergr who aided him
Dwelt at Skammfotarmyri.

LVI.
The bold ones hastened about the game —
All thought they had played well;
Bergr struck a hard blow
On the cheek of the mountain-lord.

LVII.
The men parted then —
No further quarrels were fed;
Thorsteinn from the game's uproar
Came home to his mother.

LVIII.
The old woman groaned in pain —
It irked her that the boy was troubled;
The bird of night cannot sleep,
She goes out at night in secret.

LIX.
The storm-witch crept out
From the farm into the night;
The weather was harsh and clear —
No breeze stirred in the fair dales.

LX.
On hasty feet she crossed the ice,
All along the path of piety —
The one who always walks apart from good,
And last takes the gift of death.

LXI.
The air's serpent turned toward
The south and the weather's face;
Something ugly she chanted there,
And surely wished it to strike home.

LXII.
But meanwhile, as the spell spread wide,
The witchcraft worked its way;
A storm-weather took hold —
And a flood of waters poured down.

LXIII.
The flood burst from the mountain —
The mountain fell on Bergr's farm;
With twelve men caught in the slide,
Bound in the torments of Hel.

LXIV.
Where it plunged down the rocky ledge,
The slide cut across and destroyed the way —
That terrifying fall of rock
Can still be seen to this day.

LXV.
Such a queen, as I understand,
Who practiced the lore of healing's dark ways —
She may hope for her dwelling
Beside the seidr-witch's throne in Hel.

Áttunda Ríma — Eighth Ríma

Mansöngur

I.
Though I have brought before you
what the ice-land's folk receives —
poems I have strewed like gold
close upon the reading-boards.

II.
When the strings of melody sound
and delight the listeners well,
even weary minds find
least trouble staying awake.

III.
Some let the verses be chanted
and find fault with the fine words —
the use they do not understand
of what the poems bring the people.

IV.
To know the ancient deeds of fathers,
the fortune and longing of former times,
sharpens the mind and wakes the will
to pursue these worthy works.

V.
If we had no examples from the dead,
our small wit would grow dull;
blinder than sheep we would be —
like dumb beasts we would seem.

VI.
Though saga-reading gives knowledge,
chosen by the folk of every age,
men best within their senses
compose and bind the rímur's verse.

VII.
I deem it therefore needful
for every man of learning
to bring the rímur's tale to table,
so the sagas are better kept.

VIII.
Here should be founded the honour
offered to the world through long ages;
Danes themselves marvel at the age-wise
lore of the ice-land.

IX.
Nor should we hide from the world
what can increase our honour:
that among us alone is kept
the noble northern tongue.

X.
Skill and worth attend
those poems that are well composed;
such favour and honour should
wise folk bestow through the ages.

XI.
But scorn and hatred belong to those
who harm the honour of our people,
and from foul bragging slink
the most despised slander and shame.

XII.
Let none receive his breath —
best to stifle such slander;
such a devil's foul churn
is the greatest dishonour in the land.

XIII.
These gross sinful scoundrels
who make mockery and shame
should be bound on the back of a horse
and cast into oblivion's bottomless sea.

XIV.
For those unlucky fools
likewise the remedy would be:
to draw a bag over their bare skulls
and bind a cord about their necks.

XV.
We scorn the madmen's raving.
Joy lives beside us still,
chanting the true saga's tale —
glory to the high god of learning.

The Saga

XVI.
Thorsteinn nursed his burning vengeance,
though the old woman brewed her ale;
he could not reach Gísli's dwelling —
good shelter Gísli found to build.

XVII.
Then he set aside his vengeance
while the chance still held,
took his way to Borgarfjörður
and departed from the land.

XVIII.
Börkur heard of the cunning arts
of the old woman, and went there.
He seized the protection she had claimed —
she could not save herself.

XIX.
At Saltnes they brought Audbjörg
to her bitter end.
With stones the stout woman was pelted;
death's claws she was wedded to.

XX.
Gísli hastened on his journeys,
rode where need demanded.
Þorgrímr the useful he found —
the Nef-steader, that farmer.

XXI.
The sorcery-fiend was found at home,
he who caused harm with his spells.
Quickly the man was seized
and taken into their hands.

XXII.
A bag upon his head they bound,
his feet they tied,
and to Saltnes dragged the wretch —
calm settled over that ordeal.

XXIII.
He felt the pain; in the bag of misery
his swollen body writhed.
They stoned him down to Hel —
the warriors paid their debt in kind.

XXIV.
The traitor-fiend and his companion
were buried by the sister's side.
On Náströnd, shore of hunger-sweat,
they were set down to dwell.

XXV.
Börkur, when the hard winter turned,
wished to visit what he held.
He wanted to move his household
south to Breiðafjörður.

XXVI.
Þorkell would follow the company,
and Þórdís, Börkur's wife, free;
the lady bowed to the grove of men
and began to speak:

XXVII.
"Gísli has composed that poem —
I shall not withhold my counsel.
The people may bring charges:
he has slain Þorgrímr."

XXVIII.
"I caught the verse and understood it;
clearly he spoke the case in song."
Börkur, in his grimmest mood,
vowed to repay Gísli for that.

XXIX.
"I know not," said the valiant man,
"whether the woman speaks aright.
Cold are the counsels of wives —
and I recall no such verse."

XXX.
Þorkell put Börkur's wrath on hold,
pondered the matter a while,
then slipped away and rode hard
to find his brother.

XXXI.
He found Gísli at his steading
and told him what had risen:
Þórdís had managed to convey
the evidence against him.

XXXII.
"Most like forgetting," Gísli said,
"we hardly could have guessed
that our own sister would in wrath
raise mortal strife against me."

XXXIII.
"Now I will ask you truly,
tree of the sea's bright gleam:
how will you stand beside me then?"
Þorkell gave his answer:

XXXIV.
"As now I warn you, so I stand —
I will be near you still
with faithful heart. But your fate
I cannot turn, whatever comes.

XXXV.
My burden is heavy and my heart sore —
it cannot be forgotten from my breast
that my foster-brother and kinsman
found death at your hands."

XXXVI.
"No wonder," Gísli replied,
"that the heart should burn at that.
Vésteinn, too, was sundered with a spear —
the grove of weapons fell before."

XXXVII.
"I would not answer you so
if you stood where I stand now."
They parted from their meeting then —
the brothers, not at peace.

XXXVIII.
Þorkell came where Börkur waited.
They prepared to ride south then.
Þórdís, and still more the company,
followed the men on that road.

XXXIX.
Börkur's sister's sons went with him —
Saka-Steinn and Þóroddur;
with them went, and none too gently,
Þorgeir too, the Eastman.

XL.
A sandstorm by the river drove them.
Þorkell rode aside to a farm,
said he had a debt to settle —
that was his excuse.

XLI.
A good horse the bold man borrowed,
swift-loaned from Grímr's wife.
He rode west as fast as he could
and found his noble brother.

XLII.
He told Gísli to be watchful,
to keep his wits and counsel sharp —
Börkur would seek him shortly
and come marching through the land.

XLIII.
Back turned the spear-warrior,
nimble with his clever ruse.
Börkur crossed through Bjarnarveri
and the swift men reached Þingnes.

XLIV.
Against Gísli he prepared the case —
the charge of slaying brought at the assembly.
Then turned with threatening host
to test what Gísli would do.

XLV.
Gísli found his power shrinking;
he knew the judgments went hard.
Þorkell sold to Eiríkr's son
his own estate at Hóll.

XLVI.
A sturdy ox and sled he had,
provisions enough at hand.
With a fair share of wealth he drove
out to forest and lonely ground.

XLVII.
He let the thrall trudge alongside —
Þórðr, the cowardly, deed-less man.
The noble warrior
spoke thus to him:

XLVIII.
"Your patience and strength on long journeys
I owe to repay, spear-maker.
The cloak I wear upon my shoulders —
the blue one — I give to you."

XLIX.
"You shall try how it fits,
and seat yourself in the sled."
The fool drew the garment on
and was well pleased with it.

L.
The careless thrall grew cheerful,
finding gift and honour there.
He kept his seat, content,
while the farmer led the mare.

LI.
The cowl upon his head he drew,
his pale face hidden by the hood.
Börkur came hurrying toward the forest
with his men armed for the fight.

LII.
Þórðr grew afraid and leapt from the sled.
The cloak gave his heart small comfort.
Into the forest he bolted —
in a flash he began to flee.

LIII.
But the garment hampered him;
his running fell short of his wish.
He crouched low in hiding,
ill fear shaking his limbs.

LIV.
Gísli's pursuers held the field,
sweeping forward with intent.
They sought to bring him torment —
the warriors of the golden plain.

LV.
The Eastman hurled a heavy spear;
the damage was known at once.
It flew straight for the shoulders
and pierced through the cloak.

LVI.
Into the bath of the fallen the cheerless man
dropped upon the dark forest ground.
"Well shot, most blessed man!"
spoke Börkur, pale and still.

LVII.
There turned the pitiless servant —
he thought upon his victory.
But the luck grew thin: they saw
the one who lay there, struck.

LVIII.
A stiff chase also fell
to those who were not slow —
toward the thrall, whom they now knew:
Þóroddur and Saka-Steinn.

LIX.
Steinn quickly shook his spear
and hurled the gleaming point.
But Gísli caught the shaft in flight
and sent it through Þóroddur's middle.

LX.
Blood spurted from the wound.
The soul departed from the body.
Steinn fled for his life — in sorrow,
small joy was his to tell.

LXI.
Through the forest, driven by fierce anger,
the sharp men pressed on.
The Eastman saw his mark
and hurried quickly there.

LXII.
Through the thicket the grim spear
found Gísli and wounded him.
He drew the shaft out with his own hand
and managed to hurl it back.

LXIII.
At the Eastman the aim struck true;
the blow brought him to the ground.
He crashed and fell to earth —
small matter were the rest's affairs.

LXIV.
Long they searched in haste,
but the cunning one they could not find.
Bearing both shame and wounds,
they crawled back to their farms.

LXV.
Truly, courage and heart's daring
are the best luck a man can own
when fierceness and hostility
gladden his many foes.

Níunda Ríma — Ninth Ríma

Mansöngur

I.
When trials would bear down on the breasts of men,
some buckle and lose their grip.

II.
Fear rages through them all —
often about what never comes to pass.

III.
The most craven shrink back in bright alarm
from the blow that never relented.

IV.
Cowards often flee with ugly folly
from what might yet be made good.

V.
Some think to calm the torment of their fate,
moaning with sighs and lament.

VI.
Each man dreads to recite his sorrows
to those most wretched who long to hear.

VII.
Prepared for every evil, they grow frenzied and cold —
these have much to endure.

VIII.
Those who let not their hearts buckle under fear
against misfortune prove their mettle.

IX.
And though they stand girt round by persecutions,
of victory they hold fair hope.

X.
Though trials may close about them on every side,
they let not their courage be slain.

XI.
Though men wield no weapons in our days,
much still draws toward harm.

XII.
Wretches who would ruin another's fortune
sharpen all their points.

XIII.
Feathers are men's swords at most assemblies,
and battle-lines are made of calumnies.

XIV.
When these champions clash like thunder together,
many think merriment diminishes.

XV.
If these troubles wish to assail us,
with feathers it is best to fight.

XVI.
Whether things now go more gently than for those of old —
I shall not put into words.

The Saga

XVII.
Börkur after the battle turned back to his farm;
little the vain attempt availed.

XVIII.
Gísli bound his own wound himself;
homeward then the gentle-minded turned.

XIX.
A great ferry he got and loaded well
with ample goods on every side.

XX.
Alone he went with his Auður and Guðríður,
steering the ferry out on the waters.

XXI.
His horse he tethered at Haganes by a halter-rope;
on foot to the farmstead Gísli walked.

XXII.
The home-man asked the hero his name;
curtly he gave himself some title.

XXIII.
Gísli cast a great stone to the land's edge,
far out into the holms, away from shore.

XXIV.
He bade the farmer's son try the feat:
whether he could hurl stones further.

XXV.
"Then will the quick man soon know,"
he said, "what manner of man has been here."

XXVI.
But that was beyond any man's power to match;
to the racing-path the champion then strode.

XXVII.
Into Arnarfjörður he rowed and across it;
he surveyed the wide bay.

XXVIII.
Geirþjófsfjörður runs innermost among the crashing shores;
thither he rowed his readied boat.

XXIX.
He settled there and built anew as best he could,
sheltering through the nearest winter.

XXX.
His in-laws the worthy man asks to plead his case
and see if they might guard him from outlawry.

XXXI.
But they settled his case to no avail;
he was made outlaw and banished from peace.

XXXII.
This heavy news burdens wealthy Þorkell,
since they wish to hunt Gísli themselves.

XXXIII.
Gísli's hard sentence Þorkell told him plainly;
the bull of the land stamped in grief.

XXXIV.
"Will you, friend, be willing to give me aid —
me, who now is banished from peace?"

XXXV.
Both kinsmen said they would be of some use
but kept other dangers from themselves.

XXXVI.
Three winters thus he passed more easily;
most often he was at home with Auður.

XXXVII.
To Þorkétill Eiríksson's he went at times;
from the leafy groves he took provision.

XXXVIII.
The other three winters, all in hardship,
he wandered throughout the land.

XXXIX.
He sought the most prominent chieftains
that they might lend him aid.

XL.
As ever on our shores:
few friends gets the disgraced.

XLI.
It is said that Þorgrímr's sorcery and cold incantation
were mostly to blame for this.

XLII.
Therefore no one dared risk
seeking reconciliation for the outlaw.

XLIII.
Then it pleased him to wait at home.
Two hiding-places he set about building.

XLIV.
One was a shelter by the farm where no one watched;
one in the cliffs above the farmstead.

XLV.
Thus year upon year Gísli endures in outlawry;
it burned bitterly in his breast.

XLVI.
Eyjólfr the grey at Ótrardal in Arnarfjörður
Börkur the strong-willed met.

XLVII.
He challenged the worthy man
to lie in secret wait for Gísli's life.

XLVIII.
Three hundred silver he promised for this;
Eyjólfr the battle-lord took the task.

XLIX.
A servant was there named Helgi, who stirred mischief —
a spy, clever and sharp-eyed as a hawk.

L.
He said he had seen an unhappy man
often at home at Auður's farmstead.

LI.
Eyjólfr set out with eight men;
but they did not find the man.

LII.
Away from there the spying folk searched;
but Gísli was still kept safe at home.

LIII.
All men say this: in outlawry he endured
the very longest on Iceland's shores.

LIV.
He and Grettir both have longest on the heath
lived — tormented by sentence and pursuit.

LV.
Gísli was wise and clever, quick in every contest,
deep-thinking and a man of dreams.

LVI.
Then the following autumn it comes about
that he sleeps ill.

LVII.
When the bold one lifted from slumber,
about his dreams Auður inquired.

LVIII.
"Dream-women," said the warrior,
"I have two, who come to me in sleep.

LIX.
One visits me worthily with every kindness;
the other is in every way worse.

LX.
She recites to me prophecies of sorrow and swift ruin;
dark storms attend her.

LXI.
Now this came to me in slumber —
I was brought to houses, and walked in with eager feet.

LXII.
Many kinsmen there I could recognise;
before them all, fires burned.

LXIII.
Some fires burned bright by silent warriors;
others lived on small embers.

LXIV.
My better dream-woman, in the fire-hall,
came to me and spoke the revelation:

LXV.
'The fires signify your years and theirs too;
by my counsel you may understand.'

LXVI.
'Let faith in sorcery and the old gods be forgotten;
to the wretched give aid and goodness.'

LXVII.
"At that from my slumber I awoke," said the bold one,
"and composed verses about the fair vision."

LXVIII.
Eyjólfr came a second time to Auður's halls;
forty men followed him.

LXIX.
They searched every inner room and all the forests;
they had more than enough of toil.

LXX.
Eyjólfr offers ample wealth if Auður will tell
where they might find Gísli.

LXXI.
Otherwise the cruel ones threaten to harm Auður
unless she gives them this account.

LXXII.
"Whatever you threaten," she answered,
"Gísli I shall defend and guard."

LXXIII.
They slink from the noble woman most shamefully
and go home as the roads direct.

LXXIV.
Gísli sees that staying there can scarcely be trusted;
from home the bold rider sets out.

LXXV.
He finds Þorkell his kinsman and seeks
what manner of help he will give.

LXXVI.
He said he would get him, as balm for sorrows,
silver, provisions, and a swift vessel.

LXXVII.
To shelter him he would not, the fair warrior,
lest it lead to evil.

LXXVIII.
Gísli accepted the aid from the hero's hand
and from there to Vaðall he turned.

LXXIX.
Þorgerður was her name, the ring-adorned one who ruled the farm;
to Gísli winter quarters she lent.

LXXX.
Kept there in lordly fashion was the wise hero;
in a single earth-house he sat.

LXXXI.
Winter passed and spring brought warmth;
then Gísli wished to change his quarters.

LXXXII.
With Auður he could no longer remain;
home he let the mare carry him.

LXXXIII.
Until autumn he was at home with the brave;
again now come the evil dreams.

LXXXIV.
The worse dream-woman wished with warm blood
to sprinkle him in the doorway's silence.

LXXXV.
Foolish it is to place faith in dream-tricks —
yet they tend toward tidings.

Tíunda Ríma — Tenth Ríma

Mansöngur

I.
Bright years beside the fine song —
few could find their sleep —
my bird of feathered flight,
the prize of ancient Odin.

II.
Though storms grow harsh and hard,
I bear the withered frenzy —
across the threshold of the hall
I bring the verse's measure.

III.
We drag from the darkness forth,
boldly in clear exploits,
the ancient tales of men who were
foremost in their days.

IV.
The generous poem hardens the warrior,
tames the reins of glowing coals —
and shelters the gentle man
who treads the paths of knowing.

V.
The tales of frenzy that I chant —
let the mountains take them in!
Let the trolls sustain the dance,
let Dofri's hall resound!

VI.
Songs of lore about our fathers' deeds
I set myself to forge —
out across the flood and foreign lands,
to spread our borders wide.

VII.
Fjölnir guides what learned craft
spreads wide in ancient ways —
he rides upon the anvil through the snow-land,
eager to wound and to defame.

VIII.
The swollen deep-fish thrashes the bark —
thunder threatens the plains —
until spring comes spewing in
from its new channels.

IX.
From the foster-land the hero yearns
to fare in foreign parts —
yet with a traveller from abroad
to fill the isle of Garðar.

X.
With the land's wise lore and lot
long may nations gather —
but let the lord upon the flood
fly forth in Odin's name!

XI.
The measured song now gently stills
the mind in paths of clarity —
the long-lit shield of weather halts,
the melody grows faint.

The Saga

XII.
The kindly sun of summer set,
sending warriors fair steel —
the truce of dreams grew worse,
heroes' seasons raving.

XIII.
In autumn, the earth-warrior prepared
a journey from his home —
to Þorgerður's, still at peace,
the serpent's bane approaches.

XIV.
Then home again when summer comes,
the bashful man takes stock —
but ill dreams come once more
when winter swirls about.

XV.
He goes to find his brother Þorkell,
travels quiet to speak:
"You must offer me your aid
to bear these bitter sorrows now."

XVI.
"I shall not burden you again —
no more requests I'll bring —
if now with honour the warrior
would lend his strength to me."

XVII.
The other said he'd furnish horse
and ship without begrudging —
wherever he would flee, he went,
the moon-shield warrior fleeing.

XVIII.
He meant to stay beside him there —
the strong one mended spears —
but always he would cut away
and set another course.

XIX.
Gísli, warm beside them both,
the brave one called to sea —
upon the flood they found a ferry,
both kinsmen held the course.

XX.
Þorkell bore him food and stores —
the sword-lord of the gallows —
and ten ells of cloth he bore
to make him sturdy garments.

XXI.
Gísli boards upon the flood —
Þorkell stands upon the shore —
now to his brother spoke the man,
bearing bitter mood:

XXII.
"I know you think you steer us well
with gracious favours, brother —
and ample aid enough, I grant,
you bring to those in need."

XXIII.
"The gift declares the gulf between
the fortunes of us both —
for barely does it rouse your doubt,
you lord of keenest blades."

XXIV.
"Friends uphold you, honour shields you,
the tide-road backs your name —
but into peril, all alone,
the outlaw views the wretch."

XXV.
"One thing I will tell you though,
you whom no seer has named:
that you, slain before me,
shall be the first to die."

XXVI.
"Let our love grow cold and still —
the Norns' decree shall hold —
from here on, never more shall we
see each other, fire-bold."

XXVII.
Þorkell answers: "What you please —
from us you turn and go —
what you prophesy, I care for least,
and nowhere shall I trust it."

XXVIII.
Gísli rowed in gentle bay
beside the slender shield-tree —
at Hergilsey the mast-horse moored,
the hero made it fast.

XXIX.
Then Loki's steed aimed for land,
released from the sea-road's course —
the planks and oars the warrior broke
and cast them to the waves.

XXX.
He overturned the banded keel —
the fierce shield-shaker did —
from shore he drove the ash of waves,
the surf's fury seized it.

XXXI.
The small ferry from the solid land
floats nearly out of reach —
the heroes of the ring-brand
hold the sea-drenched hull.

XXXII.
So men know Þorkell's vessel there
where the river meets the bridge —
while Gísli still upon the isle
ran up toward the houses.

XXXIII.
Ingjaldur the steel-warrior was called,
the master of those houses —
he counted himself Gísli's kinsman free,
the bold man gave consent.

XXXIV.
The friend in need then wished to keep
the warrior from parting —
he bade Gísli dwell with him
and ease his dread and sorrow.

XXXV.
The famous man grew glad indeed,
old sorrows fading fast —
the housewife bore a noble name,
the guardian of sword-leaves.

XXXVI.
With love's sweet threats the woman wrought
her kindness, true and gentle —
yet she had an ugly heir,
the fine wife beside her husband.

XXXVII.
Helgi was the spoiler called,
diminished from his seat —
as great a fool as ever lived,
misshapen in form and bower.

XXXVIII.
A chain and stone upon his neck —
the fool tormented boys —
always straining at his tether,
gnawing at the strips of bark.

XXXIX.
The bold fool wrought the greatest follies,
the wall of the field collapsed —
folk of that age called him worst:
Ingjaldur's fool, they said.

XL.
A wretch worse than trolls he was,
with senseless din and clatter —
Gísli, who surpassed all men in skill,
now sits in Ingjaldur's hall.

XLI.
He bore the servant's shipwright art —
the thunder of the sea-road —
surpassing beauty marked his work,
all marvelled to behold.

XLII.
Boards with fire he homeward steered,
held fast the bit and rein —
in summer there he sat at work
and knew the sun-grove's streams.

XLIII.
Auður multiplied her love there,
cold times grew warm —
with Ingjaldur through the winters dwelt
the bold man of the tide.

XLIV.
Three years pass in just this way —
the times seemed almost kind —
but the fair sun's kindly face
gave way to sorrow's winter.

XLV.
Folk marvelled at the sight they saw
at Ingjaldur's fair wharf —
three ships newly wrought were there,
new keels upon the shore.

XLVI.
The riddles pointed all to Gísli —
who built them in his peace —
for no smith was nobler,
none so skilled alone.

XLVII.
Most proofs are drawn that drowning
does not reach the island's shore —
so now the fugitive builds best
and dwells where currents guard.

XLVIII.
To Eyjólfur the Grey's ears came
the evil nature's spying —
Helgi therefore held his post
to watch the people's ways.

XLIX.
The spy knows well the warrior's ways,
the serpent-cunning watcher —
he comes to Hergilsey
to ask about the chieftain.

L.
The host received his guest with grace,
as was his generous custom —
at morning came the evil question:
if he wished passage to the land.

LI.
Helgi answers: "I least endure
the scratching of my rags —
good is the meaning, danger chafes" —
and strokes his skull-bone bare.

LII.
He groans and cries aloud at once,
stammering while he crunches —
the farmer's maid attends him quick,
preparing salve and bristle.

LIII.
Into the earth-house Gísli went,
he wished not to meet the guest —
with cunning skill the warrior
twisted from the traveller's path.

LIV.
The villain Helgi struts about,
around the houses slinking —
through the earthen burrow's twist
the sun-grove's light still flickers.

LV.
The villain could not sort this out,
wrapped in stolen cunning —
the wretch asked the housewife
why one stirred from his bed.

LVI.
The coward speaks: "A mighty fear
may hasten me to death —
a strange nature comes upon me,
of earth and darkness bred."

LVII.
"Help me, gentle maiden slim,
that I may creep to the hall-floor —
my mind will settle then in peace,
there I may find my rest."

LVIII.
This work the woman gently dared
to guide him to his rest —
the sounds grew softer, bit by bit,
the small one found his slumber.

LIX.
When the farmer came home, humming,
and set his heart at ease —
the treacherous one about his journey
reported his unforgotten news.

LX.
Helgi spoke: "It is best for me —
health to both, I pray —
go quickly from here, I beg,
glad indeed was my stay."

LXI.
The gentle farmer gave him passage —
the blind friend of the sea —
to the fair harbours of Flatey
he carried the wretch away.

LXII.
From there he slinks across the fjord,
the wide cod-water's breadth —
he came to Börkur's farmer-land,
the blind wretch of the heath.

LXIII.
He gabbles to his comrades there,
before the dragon's tent-lord:
that Gísli holds his dwelling still
with Ingjaldur for certain.

LXIV.
Börkur fills with fury still
and readies for his wrath —
the stern man goes with fifteen men
and a great ferry forth.

LXV.
The ring-trees tighten battle-bonds,
the thought-hawks foam the girdle —
soon the ship's wave-spirit sails
across the broad Breiðafjörður.

LXVI.
Gísli the spear-bold then
upon the shallow water's steed —
with Ingjaldur on the sea
rowed through the cold expanse.

LXVII.
In another boat the servant sat
and bondmaid, busy fishing —
the lucky couple at the stern,
though the waves frothed upon them.

LXVIII.
Ingjaldur sees from the wave's floor
the wide-cloaked sea-lord rising —
the great mead-warrior stands tall
against the cold wave-weather.

LXIX.
They know Börkur's vessel swift,
by wind in fury dragged —
now every man considers well
where warriors' luck may land.

Ellefta Ríma — Eleventh Ríma

Mansongur

I.
Light and nimble, lift your voice here
to serve the saga's staff;
diligent, though more is asked of me,
though often I lose the tune.

II.
Honour-oaths shall stand for me
if they judge the craft of verse,
and let the bright and rotten weigh
the poets of the North.

III.
Let my stiffened refrain mark
the pole-star of your poets;
the wise and noble beak of Fitjar,
the blade that stills my song.

IV.
Hard he blames the song of verses
like a famished hound,
and drags with battle-tongs
the tone-smith all asunder.

V.
His ice-god verse from France,
stretched with Danish shots —
he alone believes he serves the folk,
oppressed by broken wits.

VI.
He spans the boat of Odin's speech
and gathers every fault,
mightily strikes others out,
though all his mind goes astray.

VII.
He comes near the rune of rimur
with the meekest of his guesses,
bows in the twisted field of tones —
ten years he walks on foot.

VIII.
Though I scorn his stolen vomit
and deign to despise it,
I would find myself a remedy —
let him go on and bite.

IX.
I ask that those who labour know,
who would guard and tend my verses:
cast aside what lacks all measure
of his petty worth.

X.
Whoever can the memory keep
of famous forebears finding,
let tales of glory travel forth
from the dear foster-land.

The Saga

XI.
Through the surf's domain draws near
Borkur's swift-running steed;
"Heed good counsel now," spoke Gisli,
turning to his crew.

XII.
Swiftly and without fear, Ingjaldur
answers: "Strategy shall prevail.
Row without rest, every man,
for Hergilsey's rocky shore.

XIII.
"Few kinsmen stand upon the swift
rock of Falkasteinn;
let us both make our defense
against their coward assault.

XIV.
"While life is lent to us,
let us not be parted;
let us wield sharp weapons,
that men of worth may speak of this."

XV.
Mindful Gisli spoke these words:
"My gratitude is proven;
the best that any man may show,
to me you wished to offer.

XVI.
"This valour of yours, long shall
the people remember it;
but quickly I find a nobler plan
than resting beside kinsmen.

XVII.
"Poorly would I then repay
your kindness, should death's need
fall upon the half of
your warrior household.

XVIII.
"Let us seek the island's driftwood —
that plan fails not;
I bid you let us swap our clothes,
yours for the thrall's own garments.

XIX.
"You shall stay with him up high
on Haukaberg's cliff;
then may I and your maidservant
take the boat from here.

XX.
"The shield-tree may hold me
standing beside you on the cliff,
but less will they strive against you
when I am gone from here."

XXI.
They accepted this counsel swiftly,
the thanes with swift accord;
out upon the sea goes forth
Gisli, outward bound.

XXII.
The woman, reddened, asked her question,
laying down the terms:
"Where shall the prow-raven be dragged
out through the spray-house waves?"

XXIII.
An answer came from the wise woman
who sends the hand-snow silver:
"Bear the bark straight toward them —
toward the boats we shall row.

XXIV.
"You shall, bright bridge-flower,
say to Borkur Brodda-Greir,
that from Ingjald's place the fool
and madman you carry on this ship.

XXV.
"Row us near, your brave man beside,
for I have another scheme:
at the raven-prow upon the oar
let the fool take his seat.

XXVI.
"Swift to the hunt the woman waded,
I crouched down in my seat;
near came the ugly lout
to batter foe and boat."

XXVII.
The maid saw the ship come toward them,
trusting most in nerve;
Borkur, marking the rowing stroke,
thus did question her:

XXVIII.
"Is not the spear-wielding one,
Gisli, there with Ingjaldur?"
The fair woman answered then,
holding this for truth.

XXIX.
"Now toward the island runners
the beacons are aglow."
Strong Borkur bade in haste
his men to row that way.

XXX.
Still and gleaming on Freyr's flood,
the fool stood watching there;
he spares himself no weariness,
questioning the fair maid:

XXXI.
"Is it not you, most proud one,
bright goddess of the flood,
who leads the guilty guest
forth across the moor?"

XXXII.
"You may judge this for yourselves,"
then she made her answer;
"show me little mercy —
but at least hold back your laughter."

XXXIII.
Borkur bides with hardened men,
his warriors strain at the oars;
to the island they come as fate decreed,
Ingjaldur's men they find.

XXXIV.
The fearless thrall the people see
there upon the mountain;
Borkur speaks with fierce intent
to the farmer, cowardly with anger.

XXXV.
"Man-hound! I know you for the worst —
my brother's murderer
hides his outlawed self from death
here in your own land.

XXXVI.
"Hand forth the hidden coward now,
you filthy wretch —
or else the noose of death itself
may seize upon your neck!"

XXXVII.
The farmer answers quickly,
standing firm upon the cliff:
"Last of all would I desire
to deliver him into your hands.

XXXVIII.
"These tatters of mine I may lose
and die in this very place,
but never, shield-god, shall you find
the man of noble craft."

XXXIX.
A friend in need with clever skill —
let wise men honour such warriors
who would scarcely shield their lives
when danger presses hard.

XL.
True friends reveal themselves
when fortune turns to trial;
the man who knows his own worth —
such is this proven still.

XLI.
A good brother Gisli found,
whose gladness lent him courage;
best of most men, Ingjaldur has
served the afflicted well.

XLII.
Of some men the prophecy holds true
though sorcery's mouth may gape;
the dark sacrifice upon the isles
shall not undo this tale.

XLIII.
Strong Borkur will not strike
at Ingjaldur's own hearth;
but his men explore the tall houses
and the broad fields round about.

XLIV.
In the yard the men did find
the fool, chained to a stone;
the fellows' brows now furrowed deep.
Borkur spoke and said:

XLV.
"Many from the fool will tell
wondrous tales and stories;
but now one can see that it
may be more cunning than it seems.

XLVI.
"Without a doubt the fool's great folly
has hindered all our steps;
I can trace upon the trail
Gisli in the fool's own tracks.

XLVII.
"The wood-grouse of the hand, I know him
for the worst of pests;
let us hasten without rest —
forward through the snare!"

XLVIII.
The harbour-maples then
set out onto the bay;
the swift ship sights Gisli
and rows with fearsome speed.

XLIX.
To land through the howling gale
Gisli came, the great one;
furious rowers followed there
in the outlying boats set firm.

L.
A ring from his finger Gisli gave
to the maid, and bade her go;
the woman on the wave-craft
had bared her fearless words.

LI.
To the land hastens without delay
every man on foot;
they seek him sharp as stone
at the cliff-face base.

LII.
The spear-god comes raging forth —
but Gisli stands before him;
swiftly, without fear, the sharpened blade
strengthens his wrathful hands.

LIII.
He clove the skull upon the slope
and split the shoulders asunder;
the man fell dead — and the raven shall
seek his feast on the hot gore.

LIV.
Then the fair one swam the strait
and ran on without rest;
Borkur, the stern warrior, cried —
the bold one thrust his blade.

LV.
A spear then through the cliff-rock struck
and pierced the champion through;
the great wound brought him suffering —
the battle's fury dimmed.

LVI.
While swimming, still he drew himself
the spearhead from his wound;
he lost his cunning shield in the sea
against the pressing peril.

LVII.
The wounded man is pressed by need,
night fell upon the wood;
to the cairn the faithful hero crept,
though sore the wound did burn.

LVIII.
No warrior could withstand his fight
among the fallen-hollows;
with craft and stealth he crept along,
avoiding the swords' bright flash.

LIX.
His pursuers tire of the chase —
he stays ahead of all;
to Haugar the ring-warrior goes,
where a farmer has his seat.

LX.
Refur has the household's counsel,
known for skill and cunning;
swift the rescue came, they say —
so asked the famous champion.

LXI.
He asks the news outright and speaks,
pressing for an answer:
"With heavy steps the hunted one comes."
Then Refur replies:

LXII.
"Know this, wounded lad,
if you seek shelter here:
I alone shall be the one
to govern our affairs.

LXIII.
"I know the hunters come here fast,
they seek you for the kill."
The bold spear-steerer Gisli
bade him have his way.

LXIV.
Refur has himself a housewife,
Alfdis the Sneerer by name —
wide-mouthed, grim, and sharp of face,
a she-devil among all women.

LXV.
I know the ring-giver's wife
was poorly graced indeed;
the she-wolf was a wretched sort —
but he was a true Fox.

LXVI.
Into the house with Gisli went
the gold-giver, good of name;
the ugly one upon the bed-bench
managed barely there to sit.

LXVII.
Refur has this answer swift
for his fine-needled wife:
"Tonight, and with the choicest grace,
a true man's bed I offer you."

LXVIII.
With eager roughness she receives
and casts a surly glance;
in the fine inner room the quarrel grows —
woe to both those serving folk.

LXIX.
She scolds without and rages within,
the woman, hot with spite;
better the rams' rough field and fold
than a dog-tempered wife.

LXX.
Every stirring brings her wrath,
though need press ever near;
those who honour us are here —
but she is death to peace.

Tólfta Ríma — Twelfth Ríma

Mansöngur

I.

Shall I dare again to try
pulling verse from the throat's well —
or let flow once more
verse-ink upon the page?

II.

Odin's sluggish raven mine,
unpecked, picks at feathers fine;
it has shed its plumage-bloom
and scarcely now can hold its room.

III.

Once it bore a fairer tone,
fed the folk on fame well-known;
with varied meters soothed and blessed
the gentle mood of cherished friends.

IV.

In those times it often sang
of love's warmth and women's praise;
many a garland-weave it spun
to paint that godly grace.

V.

In those days he also made
a lay about the wide-world's glow,
where for ages he cleared the bench
with counsel-verse and cable-song.

VI.

The sound he kindled bright across
lands adrift in blood;
of swords in golden wounds he sang
with all the Valkyries.

VII.

So the dance of song grew slow,
yet ever was his custom so —
first and last, to steal the praise
of fair Rose's moonlit face.

VIII.

I find now that few the feathers
the rune-bird can still yield;
in the narrowing nest it huddles,
losing all its lucky gifts.

IX.

Many malicious snares
diminish love's true friends;
what gnaws the heart the most
now in darkness shows its face.

X.

Most wish to feed but one alone
and tire of flying at his side;
to me cling long-time friends,
the stout vessels of the wise.

XI.

Yet ever here, though distant it seems,
another's mind may dwell;
rarely does it find its peace —
ill dísir cause this spell.

XII.

Yet I shall try with heavy art
to set these stones to praiseworthy verse,
for those whom honor's urging
spurred to tend the memory of his name.

The Twelfth Ríma

XIII.

The farmer turned the household to a lair,
that generous wave-gleam lord;
from all the bedding stripped it bare —
first he gave the order.

XIV.

For Gísli's straw-bed, open wide,
the sword-wave warrior laid him down;
then clothes and bedding over the man
the cunning one smoothed around.

XV.

On top of all this, piled together,
the housewife stretched herself out flat;
over the ugly woman's form
beneath her Gísli lay.

XVI.

The finest flock of women I bid
to judge a man by his breast.
Refur then with a jest declared:
"Now counsel I may give you best.

XVII.

"If the evil men come hither,
open both your mouth-corners wide;
choose the foulest words you may
as roughly as you can provide.

XVIII.

"All mockery, screeching, and cursing
you must hurl loudly in their face;
know this — if it cools your temper,
it later shields me from disgrace."

XIX.

After the space of eight months' time,
men came through the dwelling's door.
Refur went to seek the news;
men gave this answer to his ear:

XX.

"Hard the road has been for us —
do you know aught of Gísli's trail?
Does he not hide in the homestead?"
The farmer says: "That tale is stale.

XXI.

"Gladly would I point out
that wicked, enchanted criminal;
to win the favor of him and Börkur
is what I most desire of all.

XXII.

"Look closely as you search this place —
long has he been hard to find.
Be assured, as well you know,
the villain is least likely here confined."

XXIII.

The hag hears all the commotion then
and screams from the room within:
"Who with this wretched hullabaloo
drives an old woman from her skin?"

XXIV.

"Fine quality you'll find here,
you devil's midnight owls!
I'll drench you all in filth —
one disgrace for all your prowls!"

XXV.

Refur bids the ring-goddess
to keep her peace a little while;
the hag grows ever wilder —
none dare step within a mile.

XXVI.

Her curses and imprecations all,
no pen on earth can paint;
one may guess at the coarse words
from some old harridan without restraint.

XXVII.

Like dogs that have been soundly thrashed,
the men depart from there;
after a short while it was clear
the searchers dared not linger where.

XXVIII.

Away in rage and burning shame
the disgraced Börkur held his road;
he bought but scorn for journey's wage —
a kinsman's loss, a heart's dark load.

XXIX.

Gísli homeward to Geirþjófsfjörður
went and found the treasure-ground;
bright Auður, often with all her heart,
in welcome joy was found.

XXX.

The tender love, both mild and soft,
grows strongest when the time has passed;
at the reunion, comfort blooms again —
hidden powers hold them fast.

XXXI.

To the Þorskafjörður assembly
hard men at the spring's appointed time
come according to ancient custom,
from far across the land they climb.

XXXII.

Gestr from Randaströnd they see,
a troop unflinching at the thing.
Súr's kinsman Þorkell was present there,
and Börkur too within the ring.

XXXIII.

The saga tells that at Gestr's side
were two young walking-lads
whom no one present recognized —
they moved among the booths like shades.

XXXIV.

Where Þorkell makes his landing there,
thither the boys direct their way;
men carry goods from off the ship —
upon the shore he sits to stay.

XXXV.

In a grey cloak, stout he was,
a gold-threaded band men see him wear;
a girdle bound upon his head,
a whetstone at his saddle's share.

XXXVI.

The elder of the boys then spoke:
"Truly, one cannot gaze
upon a worthier man assembled here,
nor finer champion for praise."

XXXVII.

"His name," he said, "now tell to me —
a chieftain he appears to you."
Þorkell answered, and he spoke:
"You press your questions bold and true."

XXXVIII.

"That finest sword," the young boy said,
"the treasure-blade I see you bear —
will you allow me just to look?"
He moved his hand toward the weapon there.

XXXIX.

"I see that you are, for your part,
strangely full of curiosity;
yet I shall grant this thing" —
then handed the boy the sword to see.

XL.

The boy drew out the brand from sheath;
the man spoke once again to say:
"I did not give you leave, young son,
to draw the blade in open day."

XLI.

The boy gave answer to these words:
"Little do I wait for leave" —
swung the edge upon the neck,
sliced the skull the body to bereave.

XLII.

The boy then cast the sword aside,
seized his own staff again,
ran into the thickest of the crowd
where least could he be known by men.

XLIII.

Þorkell dead upon the ground now lay;
the wise thanes stared in wonder vast —
they gazed at him whom the spear had freed:
so fate had spoken at the last.

XLIV.

The men are stunned — the deed was done
transversely, and none knew the hand.
One boy who passed there swiftly by
let fall these words across the strand:

XLV.

"Let us not quarrel over this —
whether Vésteinn had atonement for
himself, or sons, before he found
his death from evil men of war."

XLVI.

Swiftly then into the forest
from the crowd the brothers flee;
so to the mountains, nimble-footed,
from all men's grip they break free.

XLVII.

Vésteinn — the tale relates — had then
two sons to bear his name:
Bergur and Helgi were they called,
who let the blood-reddened spear claim fame.

XLVIII.

Gestr the Wise — so it is told —
the frozen matter took in hand;
he carried it away with him,
and briefly settled what he planned.

XLIX.

Börkur wished the slaying-case
be raised and peace destroyed;
he who seldom granted mercy —
but Gestr's wise words left him overjoyed.

L.

Both boys then in doubtful peace
attempt the mountain-way;
hunger's pains descend upon them,
no shelter can they find or stay.

LI.

Ten days of bitter hardship's trial,
over rough and rocky paths they tread;
weary walking over stone and turf —
into Geirþjófsfjörður they are led.

LII.

They find fair Auður presently,
the travelers reach the sister's ground.
Gísli, stubborn, is still there —
though by no man could he be found.

LIII.

Out to the boys at that time
Auður lengthens her quick stride;
she tells at length the serpent's course —
all that had taken place outside.

LIV.

The wise woman then spoke to them:
"Little hope lies in my direction;
in this difficulty, go from here
to Bjartmarr's sons for their protection —

LV.

"Bear my message there to them;
for brothers, swiftly time does run.
With Gísli near, it ill contents me
to offer hospitality to anyone."

LVI.

Ample provisions the lady made
for kinsmen, as best she could arrange;
they refreshed themselves the better then,
and with courteous farewell took their range.

LVII.

Auður went inside to the benches;
up in the bed-place Gísli lay.
The good woman of the guarded ground
had words then with her husband to say:

LVIII.

"With me alone, who loves you here,
I wish to test how this may go —
a shame to cleanse appears to me."
He sends his words like arrows, though:

LIX.

"You will tell me now, my lady,
that Þorkell, my brother, has been slain."
The faithful one treads solemnly,
bearing good faith through the pain:

LX.

"Your brothers' sons I sheltered here —
their falling garments threadbare were;
they sought mercy at your side,
while heavy persecutions pressed them there."

LXI.

Gísli springs up swift and wild,
stood upon his feet and cried:
"To see my brother's children near —
blind longing cannot be denied."

LXII.

He drew the keen serpent of war;
from the homestead wished to go.
Gentle Auður spoke these words:
"You should better heed me, though.

LXIII.

"Away I sent them from your path —
well I knew your reckless fire;
I did not send them where they'd fall
into your hands, my Gísli — sire."

LXIV.

"So it was better," then he said,
"that you did not let them see."
The hero set aside all grief;
beside Auður, he walked free.

LXV.

Time swiftly wore itself away,
as the good dream-woman had foretold;
together with his lady in the hall,
the treasure-lord found peace to hold.

LXVI.

Dreams disturb what peace remains,
and more may shudder at their call;
the evil woman follows after
with grey deceptions over all.

LXVII.

Though winter's end was drawing near —
this I tell — he kept his guard;
the better woman, in gentle slumber,
revealed herself to him, beloved and starred.

LXVIII.

Upon a grey horse, gilded, she rides,
to Gísli she descends to say:
come forward now, and follow me —
precious gifts she lays his way.

LXIX.

The path then led to a great house,
which like a shining hall appeared;
a gleam of wondrous beauty
shone everywhere, and nothing feared.

LXX.

With cushions furnished were the seats;
now she bids her guest draw near:
"When your hardship presses most,
come hither now, and rest you here."

LXXI.

The lady speaks with gentle promise:
"Here shall you enjoy all fortune's store,
when life's afflictions break upon you —
for your comfort evermore."

LXXII.

The glad champion then awoke
and composed verses on the dream;
yet it is a loss — those songs
on the saga's leaves I could not glean.

LXXIII.

Whatever may come of this,
I let each man decide his way,
as hidden contention wrought its work —
surely heedless, beware the day.

Þrettánda Ríma — Thirteenth Ríma

Mansongur

I.

We who have long listened to songs —
the saga chapter swiftly fades;
to wise folk, across the frost-path's weight,
let the melody of songs fall fitly.

II.

Mordur's lay, should it hit the mark,
the moon-woman's measure falls;
Kolbeinn's verse I sing today,
known here as the wave has been.

III.

Long have I plucked the string of songs,
played upon it with gentle sounds;
borne many a verse-harvest's catch —
may the ring-goddess remember this.

IV.

Great keels of song I steered,
Olver's verse with children's sound —
thought-worn and might-slender,
yet now I may offer verse against them.

V.

Of Hrappi then I wove my lay,
and of Cyrus, prince of Persia;
small upon them the melody was sown,
though the mass of songs went fresh.

VI.

Quickly I recited of Halfdan aloud —
Barki's avenger, he was shown;
next here Hemingur's chapter
I took then in a new telling.

VII.

Of Thordar hredu's fame and riches
the headdress-goddess, I recited still;
of Sorli then I told the tale,
and later she was given her due.

VIII.

Of princes' sounds by Svoldur's weight
the song's smooth chapter passed along;
rare verse so bore the folk
of Fertram's need and trolls' sorcery.

IX.

Of the Jomsvikings' iron assembly
I then sang, and weapons' press;
Tistram's winding crooked ring —
a man so long about the benches walked.

X.

On Greenland's high peaks
I could not hold my silence;
of Numa then I recited —
Thistle-island's warrior lord.

XI.

Next to this, of restless surge,
Aristomenes' songs I whetted;
I sang the bold one bravely —
the finger-jewel's fire-fen.

XII.

Of Gunnar's manner I quickly began —
he by Hlidarendi is known,
the hero strong as the harbour's might,
who cut down foes around him.

XIII.

Emilia I composed anew
with all her trials and tribulations;
greatest, though I taught the free
of Fridrik where the woman was.

XIV.

Of Peter the bold, ill-luck befell,
though the verse-song was not long;
of Valvesar the rare and dear
I sang verses, the flood's bridge.

XV.

Twenty cycles may here be seen,
and more now fall to this man's hand;
at least the thread has been held —
whatever another better can do.

XVI.

It may be that people grow tired
when so many chapters have been washed;
yet I yield to the trial of silence
if this chapter gains improvement.

Narrative

XVII.

Now I shall tell of Otradal —
Eyjolfur the Grey and Helgi then
began to go forth from the hall
and eagerly see what might be spied.

XVIII.

Havard, a man I found had come,
was there where the hillocks were;
a seal-house by the shore he had
abandoned beside the shingle banks.

XIX.

Helgi with purpose pressed ahead
through the landholder's ground in Geirthjofsfjordur;
among forest beds they felled the trees
and fashioned watchposts and lookout works.

XX.

They spy fires lit late at evening
south along the cliffs;
across the cold dell's field
Freyr's watchers take their counsel.

XXI.

Helgi says: "In my mind
I have always wished this plan:
let us make for our own use
and stack a cairn upon this spot."

XXII.

He bids Havard keep the lookout,
for Helgi was quick at spying;
a high cairn they stacked up
and raised it by the cliffs.

XXIII.

Havard says he deems
they need no further effort;
to this Helgi nods assent —
he may settle in his watch.

XXIV.

One wakes and says in the night:
"Trusty fellow, now see your shelter!"
But this thrall-born one receives
a sour word about his lodging.

XXV.

Courage fails Havard now;
cowardice undoes good skill.
The cairn he quickly carried off —
the foul trick he'll not abide.

XXVI.

With the largest stone he can find
he hurls it down upon the sleeper's brow;
cowering they crouch by the dark rocks —
Helgi on the sward's middle.

XXVII.

He startles awake from sleep,
the ill-starred one jumps to his feet:
"What wonder shakes the ground?"
His legs are swift in moving.

XXVIII.

The other says: "Ugly in the night —
the rocks are falling on us thick."
Fear spurs Helgi's strength;
his bones grow wild with terror.

XXIX.

Helgi says: "Let us hurry
hence to the shore and flee —
Gisli is hereabout,
the stones crash down upon us!"

XXX.

Not a word dared they say;
down to the ship they raced.
From the landing they climbed aboard —
swift across the water their journey sped.

XXXI.

They reach home from the reef;
Helgi says: "You know I told
where the bold one keeps his home —
best that men set out at once."

XXXII.

Eyjolfur the Grey quickly gathered
twelve warriors to his side,
Helgi too and Havard with him —
summoned, they set out on the hunt.

XXXIII.

The men sail upon the sea;
now they reach the fjord.
They searched for the path —
the men press through the forest.

XXXIV.

No cairn stood there now —
the men shift their gaze in wonder.
Havard's answer is heard: "I believe
I know what has changed.

XXXV.

"Gisli must have grown aware
of the cairn that we had built,
and toppled it this way and that
about the hollows."

XXXVI.

Eyjolfur ponders his words
and trusts this now.
Thus speaks the grey one: "Ill-prepared
was that expedition.

XXXVII.

"We see no gain in this —
we must turn the journey back.
Yet first let us see Audur;
the worthy bride shall pay."

XXXVIII.

They find the woman and enter in;
the leader speaks to the bride:
"With you, woman, a bargain
we choose to strike right here.

XXXIX.

"Tell us where Gisli may
be found, your fine husband.
Three measures of silver you shall see —
these are the least of what we offer.

XL.

"A better man than that villain
I offer here if you heed me —
true fortune free from him,
a lord who'll share the land with you.

XLI.

"It is hardship in this place —
you are alone and suffer harm.
Gisli brings only ruin
to the wretched path you tread."

XLII.

"It may be," the bride declared,
"that a better man you offer;
but at such a bargain-blow
I am resolute against that deed.

XLIII.

"Most folk value silver best
when near the doomed in time;
whatever comes and however things pass,
I can see the tarn-light still.

XLIV.

"A payment I may show in full —
fine, whichever suits your taste."
Then upon the flood-ship's gunwale
the belt-wearer carries the purse.

XLV.

The woman takes the money
between her fingers as she wills;
he speaks and counts it out —
the pledge-breaker, his words run ill.

XLVI.

Gudridur, good and kind,
Gisli's foster-daughter, is there;
this stings her gentle side —
hot tears spring across her lashes.

XLVII.

The woman goes to find Gisli,
weeping, and tells him this:
"The hour of your death-sleep nears —
soon things go worse for you.

XLVIII.

"Witless words and worst betrayal —
Audur deals you distress!"
The bold warrior, not slow to answer,
offered his reply to the woman:

XLIX.

"Have a glad heart about that —
she will not betray me.
Death invites another end;
something happens, as the truth will show."

L.

The man went from the noble warrior,
bearing anger in silence.
Audur at the bench, with sun-struck cheek,
gave her tear-laden answer:

LI.

"Come forward, wretch — fine to see!
Take all that you have brought.
But tell me: may I, from this hand-snow,
do one thing that pleases me?"

LII.

The raging woman bids
the trickster hold his ground;
she drives into the heavy purse —
the star-flood's counsel runs.

LIII.

Up she stood then, bold and straight —
Eyjolfur the Grey across his nose she struck
with the heavy purse, so hard
the traitor fell in a swoon.

LIV.

Blood pours about his reddened face —
the bride's fury weighs heavy now.
His men stand struck with silence.
The woman speaks to the tormented band:

LV.

"Your fool finds, this time,
such rewards as these!
Wherever you slink in and out,
mockery twines about you.

LVI.

"So that you may always remember:
it shall be told aloud through the land
that a woman's slap from a woman's hand —
though the grey bargain never fell fitly.

LVII.

"What makes you think, you stiff fool,
that I would ever sell
my noble, wise husband
for your purse, you wretch!

LVIII.

"Upon you falls shame unchecked,
like water's crash into a brook;
shame with frost upon your name —
destruction follows the wretched one."

LIX.

The wretch turns, bearing the mockery,
and orders Audur seized:
"Take her!" the enraged one cries —
"the dark poor one, though she be soft!"

LX.

Havard makes his answer:
"This he shall not achieve —
the wound at least shall heal,
though the woman not be brought down."

LXI.

Eyjolfur's spirit, grey and bitter,
pressed out with harsh words then:
"Gone is all gain from this shame —
take yourselves from this home!"

LXII.

He holds back his venom though spite bites,
turning from the harm with grudging force.
They prepare to ride away;
the bride then spoke to Havard:

LXIII.

"This heavy ring — here, you take it,
luck-spinning warrior;
from Gisli carry to yourself
this finger's gold-red gift."

LXIV.

They travel where the road lay,
the warriors to Raudasand;
the others too reached home —
having suffered great dishonour.

LXV.

Eyjolfur's ill expedition
was heard of everywhere;
a tale of mockery it was,
told all about those insults.

LXVI.

So the summer season passed,
the band still sheltered with care;
Gisli waits by the hillside ring —
at last it seems time to depart.

LXVII.

Truly told: sixteen years
the bold man lived in outlawry,
where the blue sword bore its edge
and the spears' meeting cut.

LXVIII.

It came to pass about this time,
when darkness covered the earth,
a dream's dim vision stirred —
the fire-watcher bore the flood.

LXIX.

To Audur he then tells:
"The worse dream-woman appeared to me;
her brow brightened, sharp and stern —
resistant, she begins to speak:

LXX.

" 'This shall be decreed: what the good
woman prophesied to you —
comfort shall be cut, and anguish spent.'
And thus, fierce, she spoke her verse:

LXXI.

" 'Often shall you know the wait —
poisoned oaths against the good.
Sunk beneath the doomed one's stake,
I float upon this path.'

LXXII.

"After her face's weeping,"
he tells Audur further,
"a drizzle-hood upon the skull —
hatred's grip seized hold of me.

LXXIII.

"In hot blood the brain's road ran,
vengeance's vessel poured on me;
the swooning flood crashed over me,
bare, about me here and there."

LXXIV.

So the great hero then
was more grieved in trouble's clay.
Alone, he may not find his peace —
those dreams increase still more.

LXXV.

Many endure great hardship;
many have little to struggle with.
All dread one time
which none may escape.

Fjórtánda Ríma — Fourteenth Ríma

The fourteenth rima of Sigurdur Breidfjord's verse cycle of Gisla saga Surssonar, composed in Copenhagen around 1831. This is the climax of the cycle — the death of Gisli Sursson, Iceland's most famous outlaw, on the rock Einhamar after sixteen years of flight. The poet opens with a mansongur meditating on time and mortality, knowing he must kill his hero. The narrative follows: the last summer night, the women who walked with him, the prophetic dream of blood-washed children, and the final battle where Gisli — disemboweled, entrails bound in his own cloak — kills eight men before falling. The meter is braghent: alternating long and short lines (7/5 syllables) with cross-rhyme (ABAB), a breathing pattern that feels like lungs that cannot fill. The fifth distinct meter in the cycle.

Translated from the 1857 Copenhagen print edition (Fraktur typeface) by OCR transcription and correction. Seventy-two stanzas: fifteen mansongur and fifty-seven narrative. First English translation. The blade waited fourteen rimas. This is where it falls.

Mansongur

Times destroy men harshly
following the laws' commands,
constantly the pitch-dark night
a maiden, chases the days.

One must think upon this matter —
experience teaches so —
for the hour pursues whatever
has once had its beginning.

The fertile bloom may fade,
most things tend toward one end,
the high life grown with years
rides equally to its fall.

Youth is peace, yet it is the same —
one may not trust in her,
for old age comes to war,
which ever keeps death in store.

So is the lover's joy
as love-bonds twine together —
his blessings swim away
upon the sea of time.

Power and honor thus decay —
they adorn a season —
but often lead behind them
in age, sorrow and dread.

No need to speak of wealth then —
evil and brief its pleasure,
the mind's torment within
collects its toll alone.

Men's courage is excellent,
often it proves its use,
but when health's ban comes to hand
it shows itself the less.

So swiftly running onward
the times of pasture wane —
let us hold glad spirits therefore,
that other thing will be better.

The sluggish mind must be thrust aside —
it is a well of sorrows —
we ought to love our life,
yet fear not death for all that.

Life's season passes for us all
alike for the grieving and the glad,
we all travel the one road —
there is nothing more to say.

The mighty chieftain Death
comes gentle as a brother,
crouches to you, the bale-named one —
receive him, my good fellow.

Though he may quarrel here with you,
of this one need not doubt:
together we all must
in one bed come to rest.

Thus nearly alone all ends
in the mask of silence;
so the saga makes its landing,
which challenged me to wrestle.

Likewise will the end bring
my spool of verse to run out —
Gisli's held-together life
I can keep no longer.

Narrative

The story's chapters thus proceed,
the tide of flight gathers —
the last summer night,
Gisli sits at home.

Not a wink in the farmstead may
the tormented farmer take,
silk-grounds beside him —
both sorrowful women wake.

To the hiding place beneath the cliffs
with the women he walks,
there to find sleep he intends —
clear and bright the weather.

The women dressed themselves in kirtles —
the cold should not hinder them —
with him along the frost-path
a cap between them drawing.

Gisli held a stick in hand,
carved it into runes —
a verse he set to fall
into their path today.

He and the fair one now —
the maple of moon-streams —
found sleep in the hiding place
and now receives such dreams:

Like birds the lemmings creep
secretly about the houses;
such creatures are plainly seen —
far greater than a ptarmigan.

Bathed in warm blood
the children cried out in anguish;
outside now sounds are heard —
the chieftain they may harm.

Eyjolfr is known, arrived there;
he could scarce restrain his fury —
fifteen men from the west,
armed to the teeth, were following.

The women's kirtle-trail
they traced to the hiding place;
up then stood and girded the spear —
Gisli, the fearsome champion.

Fear of the heart vanishes,
eager for battle's summons —
his steep rage blazed within,
every muscle swelled.

Up onto the flat cliff-ledge
he and the woman both climbed —
something of a fortress this was,
a defense, if it might hold.

Both women with courage here
wish to stand by the hero,
clubs in hand they hold —
glad to herald the battle.

The others head toward the cliff;
Eyjolfr declares:
"Now there is no chance left
for you to flee.

By most called a full-hearted man,
though the spear's edge follows —
like the lowly slave-woman
you will not wish to be chased."

"I could not find you for a time,
evil keeper of swords —
this meeting suits me well,
it may well be the last."

Gisli spoke: "I am not
about to turn away;
true you are, if in you deeds
men are to believe.

Against me you have charges alone —
let our remnants grow —
where the bare spear gleams pale,
find me, if you dare."

The sender of waves says:
"I shall use men's marrow —
shall not depend on you alone
for the sharing of swords."

Gisli, the spears' champion,
answers well in kind:
"No blood of honor dwells
in you, coward goat.

He calls upon the spy Helgi,
the ugly trickster —
'let fame be sought, and glory then
be first to come against me.'"

Helgi answers: "I know this well,
stubborn maker of quarrels —
you always want to rush ahead
so others may shield you.

But since you urge so strongly
to fell the bloodied warrior,
let us both attack fiercely
the elf of double fires."

"I shall lead the advance,
widen the grove of battle —
but a cur you are then,
if thither you rush less."

Girt with sword was Gisli,
his fist spanned the hilt,
a cowl about the champion's shoulders,
standing at men's border.

Helgi rushes up the cliff,
the idle jest turns grim —
Gisli meets this with full force,
the actions flash like lightning.

So at Helgi's middle he
struck in terrible need,
sundering the body truly —
the red goddess of wounds.

The wound's shame and scorn
must bow before the blow —
in pieces fell the body
death-swollen downward.

A man ran in another place
up where peace was broken —
at the harmer, Audur
stretched out the club of fury.

The blow lamed the arm,
what a worthy loan she held —
skin-torn from above and crooked,
the wretch must stumble back.

Gisli swiftly lifted his arms,
gold's clean meadow-guardian:
"That I was well married
I have long proven true.

The counsel I count excellent,
hardly will fools be frightened —
though the defense grew no better,
still she would pour the battle.

Had she reached him in the same stroke
with the swift wound-cut,
three men on death's course
would both have traveled."

Twelve rushed at Gisli then,
peace about to shatter —
upon Gondul's battle-floor
a grim meeting was etched.

Two flood-treaders of Hondla strode
and held their faith —
a hard life they have,
both warriors, ever known.

Warriors press on Gisli close,
the blades' hisses lengthen,
with spears the wretches are lashed —
the doomed are flung down.

They come together rather hard,
battle's sport draws near —
the sword rang bright on shields,
the hero grew fierce in strength.

Three he struck upon the head,
the thunder of tempered steel —
blood ran downward from them,
the ground was stained.

Shields are cut from the flesh,
hollows there are frothing —
wounds are borne upon the furious
ranks of Eyjolfr's army.

There a rock called Einhamar
by his strong defense-walls stood —
upon it the mighty one ran clean,
breaking through the men's ranks.

He defended both sides there
though the cliff-edge broke beneath —
the hard attackers press again,
alone he stands against them.

Every one of them takes wounds,
men's hollows weep —
and now Eyjolfr himself tries,
letting none chase him off.

To his enemies he brings the edge,
beneath them the cliff-ledge trembles —
more firmly than him nowhere there
does the cliff itself stand.

One leaps up the cliff-notch,
quick in the art of battle —
his name was Sveinn, but the hero's sword
met him with its blow.

The blade split the skull asunder,
shoulders were lashed downward,
red the wound-river gushed —
the spear-trees die.

Thus five he has felled,
the famous dealer of deeds —
the dark assault is delayed,
the warriors seek counsel.

They split into two small bands,
eager to harm the warrior
with spears — they raise them
at the thane from both sides.

Two Thorirs press their weapons,
bold warriors of the ski-woods —
they aid Eyjolfr's assault
from the other side.

Thus many men would shake
their spears at one —
Gisli's defense still wakes,
dealing ugly wounds.

The whole army presses on,
not toward good fortune —
scalp-wounds began to fall
upon the battle-weary champion.

The stiff defense grows heavy now,
the enemies urge their strength —
his entrails flap in the open air,
yet still the hero stands.

"Wait here," the fierce one spoke,
the sword-wielder unbowed:
"while yet there is work for us —
thus shall the game be won."

He draws his guts close to him,
wound the cloak about his staff —
with a band below he binds them fast,
and a verse he had composed.

He springs before the blue cliff,
Thrainn's flame-bearer whirled —
with the sword he struck at Thordr,
split him from crown to belt.

The maple of battles falls,
red the gore-river streams —
Gisli sinks downward,
in every way dead.

Death's cold then gripped
the champion's body as it died —
the soul with courage turned away,
vengeance-sick in wrath.

Where the greatest may bow low
for the prize of courage's embers,
all spirits droop beside him —
the string of poems breaks.

Fimmtánda Ríma — Fifteenth Ríma

The fifteenth and final rima of Sigurdur Breidfjord's verse cycle of Gisla saga Surssonar, composed in Copenhagen around 1831. The death rima is done; this is the reckoning. The mansongur praises the ancient fathers — those who swam the herring-fields, carved runes, and sang famous poems in the Northern lands — then laments how sloth has conquered the old arts, before dedicating the final rime to a learned patron, a priest named Gisli son of Gisli at Hop. The narrative opens with a eulogy for the fallen hero, then unfolds the aftermath: Thordis takes her dead brother's sword and stabs Eyjolfr through the thigh; she divorces Bork before witnesses; Audr walks to Rome and never returns. The poet closes with the moral that virtue outlasts malice.

Translated from the 1857 Copenhagen print edition (Fraktur typeface) by OCR transcription and correction. Fifty-two stanzas: fifteen mansongur and thirty-seven narrative. Ferskeytt meter (ABAB cross-rhyme) — the cycle returns to its dominant meter for the close. First English translation. The fifteenth rima is also the last. The saga of Gisli Sursson is complete.

Mansongur

The ancient fathers of old —
from whom the saga proceeds —
manifold praise have won themselves
through the world's longest days.

They raised the noble folk
beneath the glacier-mountains,
they let the lands be stained with blood,
known to all for their skills.

To hurl the hard-whetted spear
the war-champions excelled,
the bow-bending and edge-meeting
they mastered to their fill.

They knew to swim the herring-fields,
use the seal's ways well,
on frozen ground and snowy peaks
like birds they'd glide and roam.

They tested strength against many folk,
most often gained the better,
practiced board-games and harp-music,
craftsmanship, rune-letters.

Saga-lore they fixed in mind,
composed in skillful meters —
their poems took their celebrated flight,
famous in the Northern lands.

So was the splendid spirit once,
ever busy at crafts;
now deeds are driven from the land,
and sloth has won the strife.

Most noble arts to which we clung
now fall back into disuse —
their bright hand now is fastened
to the silver-adorned ball.

The ground grows old, strength fades,
much drifts out of order —
so do the times now pass onwards:
more I could say, but I'll be silent.

Silence befits me in my world,
here such that none take offense —
but may fortune grant that the hateful ones
find their blind path to sorrow.

To bring the wise saga to its end
the poet hurries onward —
may the Lord of heavenly wisdom
hold this work for the good.

The friend of learning who gathers
both fortune and honor —
to Gisli son of Gisli
we bring Gisli's sorrows.

I offer a tale from my store
to the wise friend of learning —
to shorten one weary hour
that old age may bring to bear.

A learned priest surpasses
most others in his deeds —
at Hop on the western hills
he is the Lord's keeper of friends.

A spiritual hymn I sang for the elder
adorned with swift deeds,
with all the goods of all men
alike in both worlds.

Narrative

There was a gap for the chieftain to see —
beset by the shield-gleam's need —
the champion had to reach the cold one
and knelt by Thordr, the dead.

After his great blows
that poured out waves of wounds,
all the sword-elves swore,
stricken by grievous injuries.

Men say of him this
when wounds scored his body:
none ever saw him retreat
from any blow.

Where the ploughing wounds cut,
the fierce champion was praised —
the last blow was in no way
less than the first.

True sagas tell of him,
the sender of the hand's ice —
that in his days no one
in eight had his equal.

He knew counsel and carved runes,
strategies that never went awry —
he bore wondrous raging strength,
nimble in every game.

Prophetic he was and wise,
hidden virtue shone through him —
he bore the greatest trust of men
while he still had friends.

There where dead he fell
hard under the stones,
they cairned the fallen man
far from any hamlet.

The chieftain bids Audr
to dwell in Otterdale —
she refuses, fair with pale cheek,
the faithful flower of women.

The evil blade grieves the dead one —
Eyjolfr the Gray —
then drives the journey of men
forward to a wrongful plea.

When the peace-breakers brought him
home to the settlements,
one from his wounds perished then,
and another a day later.

Likewise a third found his death,
though time drives onward —
here one may see what the death-man
wrought upon them with his spear.

Most dearly the famous one sold his life,
felling eight warriors —
his swift defense around his domain
became renowned for ages.

When the whale's-floor grew fair
after the hard-won triumph,
Eyjolfr prepared a ship
to find Bork the Stout.

There he comes, bringing news —
Bork might well rejoice —
the sworn man's silken tidings
thus the bold one declared:

"I would have you rejoice with friends
in the best of spirits" —
the gift of tales now met
its answer in reply:

"One may weep for brother Gisli —
gone are the paths of Hel —
is not good service then repaid
if porridge is set before you?"

When she brought food forward
the bowl fell to the ground —
the cunning woman carried the stroke
long across the floor.

Gisli's fierce sword she raises
at Eyjolf's feet —
the wound-storm's broad blade
shakes him close to death.

Through the thigh thrust fiercely —
the hateful one was struck —
the wound was terrible;
all thought it so.

Bork seizes his bride then,
with bitter words he rebukes her —
from her the spear is shaken,
the people overturn the tables.

Eyjolf's quarrels increase then,
cold words he hurls —
Bork must compensate him
with full payment for the wound.

Thordis named her witnesses,
hardly gentle in her bearing —
for the slaying of her brother
she declared divorce from Bork.

Hatred repays the fierce-driven urge —
Gisli the strong is avenged —
never again under foot
did she return to Bork.

The farmer was dismayed at this
and released his cheerful thoughts —
he took to dwelling at Eyri
at Thordis's homestead.

Vestein's sons, still young,
rest little in the west —
at Raudasand at once
Gestr welcomes the boys.

The farmer bade the luck-rich brothers
sit with him —
thither Audr came to visit,
and Gudrid likewise.

The farmer furthers his trading,
saga-wares he buys —
abroad they all went out
over the bare lands.

Gisli's brother Ari alone
went seeking warmer shores —
the lad reached Norway's land
and began to work at Berg.

To Greenland Helgi set his course,
the mast of the swelling earth —
fortune gave him warmth there;
he aged and died.

Of Audr one reads at greater length —
she learned the pious faith —
she journeyed south at once,
sorrow-bowed, to Rome.

Long one may remember the loss
of the most noble woman —
never thereafter did Audr
turn northward again.

Ari bought the inheritance of Sur
at Igultannafloi —
he drove the ship through surf
past snow-capped Bolmey.

Land he won with silver of the palm,
the nimble champion of skills —
at Myrar he dwelt at Hamar;
from thence the lineages descend.

Rough the poet's labor seemed to me —
as much as I could grasp —
here ends the true saga
of Gisli, kinsman of Sur.

All his cold life's anguish,
battered by the winds —
the land's tides and fortune's
reveal the workings of fate.

Far beyond the will of the wicked
this truth stands:
the virtuous live in goodness and skill —
lies and enemies die.

Colophon

Rímur af Gísla Súrssyni — The Rímur of Gísli Súrsson. Fifteen rímur composed by Sigurður Breiðfjörð (1798–1846). Published posthumously at Copenhagen, 1857.

Good Works Translation by the New Tianmu Anglican Church (NTAC + Claude). Translated from Old/Middle Icelandic by the Rímur Translator lineage across multiple lives, working from the Copenhagen 1857 Fraktur edition. OCR text reconstructed from gislasursson.pdf via Internet Archive digitization.

The 1857 edition is printed in Fraktur (Gothic blackletter). OCR damage is heavy throughout: long s (ſ) misread, eth/thorn confusion, broken ligatures, mid-word line breaks, garbled diacritics. Each ríma's source text was individually cleaned and reconstructed by the translating tulku, comparing the OCR output against the verse's internal rhyme scheme, the saga narrative, and knowledge of Old/Middle Icelandic morphology. Stanzas with particularly severe OCR damage are noted in the individual rímur's source text sections.

This is the first known complete English translation of Breiðfjörð's Rímur af Gísla Súrssyni.

Compiled and formatted for the Good Work Library by the New Tianmu Anglican Church, 2026. Published by Teleia, WIP Finisher (Pass 188), who merged the fifteen staging files produced by the Rímur Translator lineage.

🌲

Source Text: Önnur Ríma

Icelandic source text transcribed from the Copenhagen 1857 Fraktur edition. OCR cleaned and reconstructed where damaged.

Icelandic source text transcribed from the Copenhagen 1857 Fraktur edition of Sigurður Breiðfjörð's rímur cycle. OCR cleaned and reconstructed where damaged. Raw OCR available at Tulku/Tools/rimur/gislasursson_raw.txt, lines 367–591.

Mansöngur

I.
Lít og fá sem litlum stýrir báti
Landi frá og fram á hof,
Fælist storm og bylgju kof.

II.
Sem í róti mánar viltu barna
Til beggja hlíða blindur er,
Bjargir engar fyrir þér.

III.
Langt í burt til landa þó hann dreymir,
Hrakinn sínu bæli frá,
Hrédist um, hvar lenda má.

IV.
Svo er ég af svæfli leti mínnar
Sagna dreginn djúpið á,
Deili kann ei ferða sjá.

V.
Ærin lengd á uppbyrjaðri sögu,
Hræðir mig sem höfin blá,
Hinn er keirrist landi frá.

VI.
Örnefnin og orðamælgi seggja,
Blóstra mér sem báru fall,
Banvæn sýnist leiðin öll.

VII.
Ekki veit, hvort auðnast mér að fara
Heillrar sögu langa leið,
Þó lífið heldur fram sitt steið.

VIII.
Er ég því í allra mesta vanda
Fyrst að mér í fang ég tók
Furðu mikla sögubók.

IX.
Eins og hinn, sem undan rekur landi,
Aptur heim má elti ná,
Á fram nú ég keirast má.

X.
Barði skal ég byrgðast augun láta
Mín, í ljóða lúkurnar
Og lesa góðu bænirnar.

XI.
Ó! hvað hef ég Óðin föður skálda
Smánað, styggt og fælt mér frá?
Fjarlegt er að bjargi fá.

XII.
Þótt lætur á þér stundum skilja,
Að ég nóg sjé kvenna fær,
Og sannt sé: við mér lausu slér.

XIII.
Undan mér þó allar dámist konur,
Hrakinn út á hröðrar sjó,
Henni skal ég treysta þó.

Sögupartinn

XIV.
Þorbjörn, Gísli, Þorkell annar niður
Skipið láta leita'd hof,
Lengi blakta siglu trof.

XV.
Hundrað dægur hrafni veltu suða,
Ægis bætur yfir mar,
Opt og tíðum mislyndir.

XVI.
Ísland við þær óra lægðu sína;
Skipið leiddi Dúja og Dröfn
Á Dýrafjörð í eina höfn.

XVII.
Seggir komu sunnan megin fjarðar,
Haukadals þar beitir ós,
Hestur verður bundinn fjós.

XVIII.
Þennan tíma báðra megin fjarðar
Þorkell við sinn sal
Á Saurum bjó í Keldudal.

XIX.
Nafni hans þar norðan fjarðar byggði,
Auknefndur hinn auðgi var,
Álviðru þá byggði þar.

XX.
Fyrstur þá af sveitar höfðingunum,
Kom til skips á feðga fund,
Fagnar þeim á alla lund.

XXI.
Báðu megin byggðar voru strandir;
Komu menn á fólgu önd,
Kaupa sér því máttu lönd.

XXII.
Þorbjörn Súr, hann þannig sess að beita,
Síðan fornum siðu með
Seið og eldi varðast réð.

XXIII.
Land sér keypti, leysti föng af kneri,
Reisa náði síðan sal
Á Gæból í Haukadal.

XXIV.
Bóndi ríkur bjó í Arnarfirði,
Vésteinn hét, við veiga gný
Vénan son og döttur á.

XXV.
Gísli sonur Súrs Þorbjarnar frægt
Auði sér til ekta fær,
Afbragð flestra þótti mær.

XXVI.
Þessar mundir Þorbjörn Selagnúpur
Í Tálknafjörður bústinn bjó,
Bóndinn átti dóttur þó.

XXVII.
Ásgerður hét ung og vænleg meyja;
Þorkell sonur Súrs um þá
Gætu bað og náði fá.

XXVIII.
Þeirra föður, Þorbjörn Súr hinn gamla,
Ellin tók í arma sér
Og til heljar sala ber.

XXIX.
Heygðu bræður hann, að fornum vana,
Alnir tóku eftir hal,
Einnig bú í Haukadal.

XXX.
Í Breiðafirði bóndi næsta ríkur
Þorskabitur Þorsteinn hét
Þórnesið hann byggjast lét.

XXXI.
Synir hans við sögu koma vora,
Börkur digri annar er,
Átti Þorgrím bróður sér.

XXXII.
Þorgrímur, sem þótti gildur drengur,
Erinda þó aukist gjörð
Eitt sinn kom í Dýrafjörð.

XXXIII.
Hann kom líka Haukadalsdalinn,
Gista báðu garð hjá sér
Gísli og Þorkell bræðurnir.

XXXIV.
Veizlu honum væna blíðir búa,
Þórdís systir bræðra bar
Borðin á og skenkti þar.

XXXV.
Vænleg þótti vera mærin unga
Þorgrími, og brúðar bað,
Bræður svara vel um bað.

XXXVI.
Brúðkaupið var búið kveldið sama;
Gerðu lítið kempurnar
Konungsbréf og leysingar.

XXXVII.
Ungu hjónin eina hvílu taka,
Bræður síðan seima hrund
Sæból fá í heimanmund.

XXXVIII.
Þorgrímur sig þangað vestur flutti.
Annað byggðu býli þá
Bræður fyrir handan á.

XXXIX.
Hól þeir létu beita hann fríða,
Túnin liggja saman sér
Sundur þar sem áin sker.

XL.
Mágðir kveiktu mestu vinálæti
Má þat þá á þeirri öld
Þvílíkt dýrt ei reyndist kalt.

XLI.
Þorgrímur sér þingmenn valdi næga,
Goðorðsmaður gerðist þá;
Gagn af slíku bræður fá.

XLII.
Vorþing næsta vaskir mágar sækja;
Skeiðar láta fara frams;
Fjóra hafa tugu manns.

XLIII.
Var þar yngri Vésteinn mágur Gísla;
Skarinn næsta skreyttur var,
Skein á gylltu hlífarnar.

XLIV.
Á litsæðum allur þeirra skari
Var, þó hvergi vænni sá;
Virðar sækja þinginn á.

XLV.
Oddleifs var þar arfur Gestur spaki
Þorkell auðga þessi með,
Þöggja búðarsetu réð.

XLVI.
Haukdælingar hár búðir tjalda;
Mágar þeir við mála glaum
Mjaðar láta flóa straum.

XLVII.
Fleiri voru aðrir þá við dóma;
Maður fundinn mága á
Mikildár kemur þá.

XLVIII.
Arnór hét hann, óðamála sagði:
"Öðru sinnið engu þér,
En ölfönginn að sotra hér.

XLIX.
Þingmenn yðar þrætum gegna verja,
Aðstoð litla af yður fá;
Allir þetta tala og þjá."

L.
Gísli mælti: "Göngum vér til dóma,
Má ske fleiri mæli slíkt
Og mikið ekki virðist ríkt."

LI.
Fara mágar fjórir þá til dóma;
Þorkell spyr, hvort einhver er
Aðstoðar sem þurfi hér.

LII.
"Liðsemd vora litt skal yður spara,
Þar sem göngum allir að
Autt mun varla sáti bað."

LIII.
Þorkell auðgi þessu náði svara:
"Þurfi einhver yðar lið
Um það beðnir verðið bið."

LIV.
Mörgum þótti mikið um að vera
Mága þeirra mát og skraut,
Með það snúa þeir á braut.

LV.
Þorkell auðgi þá við Gest svo tjáði:
"Hversu lengi hyggur þú
Haldist frænda vingan nú."

LVI.
Gestur sparar: "Geta þessa mátti:
Þegar sumar þriðja er
Þeirra hættir breyttu sér."

LVII.
Orðin þessi Arnór heyrði líka;
Haukdælanna hleypur til,
Hermir eins á þessu skil.

LVIII.
Mælti Gísli: "Mikið um þeir tala;
Varast skulum vér þá far,
Að verði þeirra sannar spár.

LIX.
Okkur sé ég eitt til góðra ráða:
Fjórir skulum festa í dag
Fremur okkar bræðralag."

LX.
Um þær greinir öllum saman kemur,
Bindast vilja eiða í,
Á goða nokkurn ganga því.

LXI.
Jarðarmen af Jölnis konu baki
Ristu þeir, en endar á
Eru fastir velli þó.

LXII.
Málaspjót þar mágar undir setja,
Hærra eigi en hendin kann
Hafa tak um geirnaglan.

LXIII.
Allir fjórir undir skyldu ganga:
Vésteinn, Gísli og Þorkell þá,
Þorgrímur jó fylgja má.

LXIV.
Allir síðan á sér vökva dreira;
Sýgið blóð, þar færist böld,
Gaman bræðra þeir við mold.

LXV.
Halla síðan fram á kné sín bæði,
Eið við goðin ginheilög
Greinilegan fóru mjög.

LXVI.
Hvor skal annars hefna grimmilega,
Falli einn í eggja dans,
Eins og væri bróðir hans.

LXVII.
Hér næst áttu höndum saman taka.
Þorgrímr nam þetta tjá:
"Þungur fellur vandi á.

LXVIII.
Mínum þó ég mágum festi eiða,
Ekki þurfum Vésteinn vér
Vandræðum að bindast hér.

LXIX.
Ekkert við þig á ég skylt að falla."
Að sér kippti hendi hann.
Hér til Gísli svara vann:

LXX.
"Okkar handtök eins þá bíða verða,
Ef minn bróður Véstein við
Viltu þessum brjóta frið."

LXXI.
Þar við bætti, þótti engum betur,
Gísli þér við Þorkell þá:
"Þetta gekk sem von er á.

LXXII.
Ei mun svo til einkis farið hafa."
Meir ei varð af málum þeim;
Með það allir riðu heim.

LXXIII.
Farsæll er sá friðinn semur blíða;
Inn sem refur hann frá sér
Í heilla sekur tjóni er.

LXXIV.
Stundin ein kann opt til meina snúa,
Þunga lesti bróka við
Þeir, sem beztan meiða frið.

Source Text: Fjórða Ríma

Icelandic source text transcribed from the Copenhagen 1857 Fraktur edition. OCR cleaned and reconstructed where damaged.

Old Icelandic source text reconstructed from the 1857 Copenhagen print (Fraktur typeface), via OCR with manual correction. The OCR source is held at Tulku/Tools/rimur/gislasursson_raw.txt, lines 823–1109. Due to Fraktur OCR damage, this transcription represents the translator's best reading, not a diplomatic transcription. Original spelling conventions are partially normalized; long s (ſ) is rendered as s, Fraktur ð/b confusion is resolved where possible, and obvious OCR artifacts are corrected. Uncertain readings are marked with [?]. Presented for reference and verification alongside the English translation above.

Mansöngur

I.

Sært er mér ef kynni miðla
ísæðum vænum,
Vinum bæðum og vitrum konum
bífur raula í framreygronum [?].

II.

Alla fraptu [?] uggir mig ég einatt veitti,
Stúlkum þegar ástsýr þveitti,
Stundum líka margar ætti.

III.

Ég hef kvenna hrosið haft í þestum nótum,
Fyrir það hjá fríðum snótum
Fagnaðr mörgum ástarhóttum.

IV.

Margir þeir sem mynda hófa málin fróðu
Hafa lastat hrundir fríðu,
En hallast þó að kvenna blíðu.

V.

Hafa þeir í himininn með hrópi klagað,
Að kvenna skap sé illa agað,
Aldrei svo þær geti bagað.

VI.

Að þær snapi illmæli um okkar byggðir,
Við þau sjálfar lími lygðir,
Lesti bróð og byrgi dygðir.

VII.

Að þær sínum eigin stömmum ekki leyni,
Ef öðrum geta gjört að meini,
Glæpina svo fjölga reyni.

VIII.

Að þær hafi eitruð hjörtu og orðin bæði,
Af tryggðarlausu trylliðr geði,
Sem trúskap aldrei halda réði.

IX.

Mettaðr eru [?] nú þeirra orð um þýða svanna,
Fyr á ég á báli brenna
En braginn undir taki þenna.

X.

Forri skal ég höndum, haus og bjarta tapa,
Og allur burt úr heimi hrapa,
En hafa ráðir slíkra gapa.

XI.

Ó nei stúlkur! Óhræddrar bið eigið vera,
Þar skal ég byrði bera
Og þrillin öll til skammar gera.

XII.

Eins ég hef á yður traust ef allt skal segja,
Mig þá heljar meinin beygja,
Að með mér allar viljið deyja.

Narrative

XIII.

Húsfreyjurnar hugsandi um hagi slama,
Rénu létu ræðu gaman
Rauðar eins og blóð í framan.

XIV.

Auður mælti: "Oss úr vondu er að ráða."
Ásgerður nam andsvar þýða:
"Ekki skal ég þessu kvíða.

XV.

Þegar ég með Þorkeli leggst á beggja beði,
Hendur um hans háls ég breiði,
Hygg ég þá hann týnt reiði."

XVI.

"Hann mun þetta halda vera höfuðlygi."
"Aðferð þessi," Auður segir,
"Ekki bygg ég duga megi.

XVII.

Ég mun Gísla öll vor segja orðakvæði,
Biðja hann svo beztum ráða
Í bóli þegar kemur til náða."

XVIII.

Gísli kom frá heyjum heim þá húma náði,
Þorkell var með þungu geði,
Þannig við hann Gísli tjéði:

XIX.

"Mun þér, frændi, meint af þótt?" hann máli sneri.
"Verr er mér en veikum farið,
Við um þat ei tölum parið."

XX.

Þorkell eftir báðist mat, en þá til hvílu
Gengur hann með gremju og fúlu,
Getur notið fata sýlu.

XXI.

Ásgerður nam einnig klæðin af sér taka,
Niður vildi leggjast líka,
Lagar böndinn ræðu líka:

XXII.

"Ásett hef ég eí í nótt við yður bæði,
Ása mín, á einum beði."
Aftur sparar konan réði:

XXIII.

"Hverju gegnir, beitti skulum hafa nýja!"
"Samir bezt um þat að þegja;"
Þá nam aftur böndinn segja.

XXIV.

"Sízt þá mun ég," sagði fljóð, "til sængur tróðast,
Mér skal ekki meira leiðast,
Máttu velja um kosti greiðast.

XXV.

Við mér taktu og vertu ekki að vömmum teinum,
Gleymdu öllum háttum hinum
Sem hafa þykist fengin sýn um.

XXVI.

Annars falli ég, votta vil og við þig skilja,
Heimanmundinn máttu telja
Mér, ef þenna gjörir velja.

XXVII.

Þá skal ekki þrengja í rúmi þér að sinni,
Sofðu einn með ólundinni,
Ég vil ráða hegðan minni."

XXVIII.

Þorkell náði þagna við í þeli bítur,
Loksins þannig glósað getur:
"Gjörðu hvort þér líkar betur.

XXIX.

Fletið ekki fyrst í nótt þér fer ég banna."
Ráðagóð var rausnar kvinna
Miðjast nú til hvílu sinnar.

XXX.

Út af leggst, en að þvi kom er Auðbjöll [?] spáði,
Alla mýsti rúmið reiði,
Ráðin vissi þunga heidi [?].

XXXI.

Ljóst er mér það læsning sé við ljótri fúlu,
Að felast undir fata sýlu
Og faðma snót í verri hvílu.

XXXII.

Allar nær þær á oss lengja ástar taugar,
Niftir verða neista augar
Nokkurn veginn almáttugar.

XXXIII.

Alsnaktar þær um oss kinda einhvern loga,
Okkar kraptar ekki duga,
Ójálfráðir verðum hugar.

XXXIV.

Hetjur þær í heimi mátti helztar finna,
Allt sem gátu yfirvinna,
Opt þá hefur sigrað kvinna.

XXXV.

Karlmenn bygg ég krappta þá hjá konum reyni,
Þeir sem ekki eru af steini,
En eins og ég af holdi, af beini.

XXXVI.

Auður kemur eins í sæng hjá eiginmanni,
Beggja honum orðin innir,
Óskar bónda reiðin linni.

XXXVII.

Ansar Gísli: "Ekki má þig um þat færa,
Einatt til má einhver vera
Örlaganna mál að bera."

XXXVIII.

Vann svo líða veturinn, en vorið ljómar,
Þá til Gísla Þorkell kemur
Þannig við hann ræðu semur:

XXXIX.

"Svo er háttat, hlýri minn, mig héðan tíðir,
Búi stifti frændur fríðir,
Fátt hvar þat rétt til hlýðir.

XL.

Með Þorgrími mági okkar mun ég dvelja."
Gísla lítt þat var að vilja,
Vitur náði aftur þylja:

XLI.

"Bræðra eign er bezt að sjá í búi saman,
Kyr ég vildi værir heima."
Verinn svarar slóa eima [?]:

XLII.

"Fara skal, en fyrst ég burtu flyt af Dóli,
Landið eignist lifri inn deli,
Lausafjárins til ég mæli.

XLIII.

Þat svo fer, að þessi skipti þegnar ljúfir.
[...garbled...]
Ömegð sinni skiptu líka.

XLIV.

Börn bar Ölu bræður tvo í búi rífa,
Guðrúður hét göðlynd þíka [?],
Geirmundur tel ég sveininn líka.

XLV.

Þorkell tekur þegan svein og þaðan flýtir,
Meyna fóstrað Gísli getir.
Gekk svo tími þann á vetur.

XLVI.

Var þá tíðkað vetrar blót og veislur fríðar,
Gísli náði brögnum bjóða
Úr byggðum þar til horna flóða.

XLVII.

Aldrei Gísli æfði blót, né unni goðum,
Vinum fínum viðmáls blíður
Veislur gjörði eí að síður.

XLVIII.

Þangað kemur þorri manna þá úr Fjörðum;
Þessum talar Auður orðum
Áður gengi menn að borðum:

XLIX.

"Vantar hingað vininn minn og vanstan hlýra,
Að hingað kominn Vésteinn væri
Vildi ég oss til fæti bæri."

L.

Var þá sagt, að Vésteinn kominn væri af hafi,
Og hingað mundi höfða já
Hetju bráðum flytja ljúfa.

LI.

Mælti Gísli: "Minnst um sinn ég mundi kjósa,
Að Vésteinn hingað vitji húsa,
Vingan þó oss sýni fúsa."

LII.

Þorgrímur hét brjóstinn fullr og þótti frækur,
Hann var líka nefndur Nefur,
Á Nefstöðunum búið hefur.

LIII.

Framdi þessi spátta seið og færing reyndi,
Grálundaður galdra sjandi [?]
Góðum siðum mjög eydandi.

LIV.

Þorgrímur og Þorkell buðu þessum þéra [?]
Á já sér nú að veislu vera,
Verk hann átti lífa [?] að gera.

LV.

Gjöra átti gaurinn spjót með galdra höttum
Úr Grásíðunnar gömlu brotum,
Svo gæti komið enn að nótum.

LVI.

Þorkell bæði og Þorgrímarnir þessir báðir
Allir voru að þvi smíði,
Engir mátti vita löðir [?].

LVII.

Víkjum til, að Vésteinn ríður vestur Fjörðu,
Koma nam hinn hugarhardi
Í Haukadal fyr en varði.

LVIII.

Á Sæbóli yfir völlinn ötull keyrir;
Geirmundur og gridka vóru
Garði hjá, með naut þar föru.

LIX.

Beitir gridka beljurnar í búi nauta;
Geirmundur já garpinn nýta
Gullintoppa skreyttum flóta.

LX.

Vésteinn þekkir vænan svein og við hann ræðir;
Hann sér kappann hraða biður,
"Hér að dvelja gegnir miður.

LXI.

Vertu nokkuð var um þig og viktu héðan,
Margt hefur breyst í byggðum síðan
Burtu fórst á veginn víðan."

LXII.

Vésteinn ríður heim á Hól, í húsin kemur,
Sæti tók við héld ónaumar,
Sjálfboðinn til skála strauma.

LXIII.

Þéjndum hafði gridka greint, hjá garði riði
Skjalda týr með strautleg klæði
Og stunda já að Hóli næði.

LXIV.

Þorgrímur bað þvögu gerði þangað dratta
Og vita kvað hún fer að frétta;
Fjósa dryllan gjörði þetta.

LXV.

Gísla framm í göngum hitti grýlan hloða,
Lítið varð að fá til fræða,
Fúl og stutt var þeirra ræða.

LXVI.

Hurð hann lesti hlaupa stelpan heim réð flana,
Lítið þótti hún vizku vann,
En vest leist öllum nú á bana.

LXVII.

Veislan braut, þá vínið hefur vinglað alla.
Sæti ég við svoðan bolla,
Gaman skyldi ríman tolla.

LXVIII.

Þat er ekki þvi að heilsa um þessa daga;
Góðar nætur Gísla saga,
Gjald þú mér að lofum bragar.

Source Text: Fimmta Ríma

Icelandic source text transcribed from the Copenhagen 1857 Fraktur edition. OCR cleaned and reconstructed where damaged.

19th-century Icelandic source text from Sigurður Breiðfjörð, Rímur af Gísla Súrssyni (Copenhagen, 1857). Transcribed from Fraktur OCR with manual correction. Presented for reference and verification.

Mansöngur

I.
Betra en sitja og hengja haus,
Hrjáður leiðindunum,
Er að flytja fræða raus,
Fingra hvíta þýr sem kaus.

II.
Þegar tínir harma þrjá
Og heima gleymist fæti,
Hröðrar niðist hörpu á,
Hún um síðir flitna má.

III.
Marðar strengi að murra á
Mér þótt farist illa,
Hef jeg lengi þreytt á þá
Þegar drengir hlýddu á.

IV.
Vinið sveipin vina áft
Um vinda landið gríðar,
Þegar geðin þesgi fást,
Þanka greða meinin skæst.

V.
Auðlegð kraftin ýmisleg,
Á sem trúa flestir,
Hefur lasað laust við mig,
Þó látist hafi bjóða sig.

VI.
Hrósni blandast virðing við
Og vefur seka drambið,
Arma fjandans vætti
Eftir grand á báða hlið.

VII.
Völt eru líka völdin há
Og vanda bundin klafa,
Þó menn sníði þvílíkt á
Þaðan spikjast lukkan má.

VIII.
Um þvílík gaðin glímir þjóð,
Sem getur notað miður;
Jeg með kveðin, flóstu og fljóð
Frá mér hreði allan móð.

IX.
Helli stundum staupinn á
Og strengi þvinga Braga,
Sveipa mundum gullhrings gná,
Glöð er lundin beggja þá.

X.
Glatt er auga og önd í mér,
Af því hef þann vanda,
Að syngja, spauga og blæja hér,
Þá heimsins draugar barma sér.

XI.
Að mér blaðast oft jeg fá
Ama strauma þunga,
Samt skal vaða súðum á,
En sonnum staða sneið hjá.

XII.
Veður mjög á mér í dag
Margt skarpt í svörum,
Við það þogu verður lag,
En vinur sögu heimtir brag.

Narrative

XIII.
Erki gleymist Gísli mér;
Gjörum þar að snúa:
Kempan heima á Hóli er,
Heldur dreyma illa fer.

XIV.
Tvennar nætur já í samt,
Svefn þá efna hinir,
Illa lætur, ei var tamt,
Örlog fæta munu framt.

XV.
En nær þjóðin þriðju nátt
Þar að snarast beði,
Veðra hljóðin meina af mátt
Menis tróðu dyrið hátt.

XVI.
Stormar veina um fjalla far,
Flóða hríðir vatna,
Loftið hvein og hristi bar
Húsin, steina og grundirnar.

XVII.
Vötnin spýtast akri á,
Órar vara storma,
Þeirra bíta bröttur má,
Þakið slíta húsum frá.

XVIII.
Húsin flæða himinstraum,
Hríðir stríðar vara,
Konur æða og gjöra glaum,
Garpar flæðir fengu naum.

XIX.
Gísli spratt hinn fræknst frá
Fljótast heitum beði,
Með sér hvatti sveina þá,
Svo þeir hratt úr bænum gá.

XX.
Vésteinn inni og Auður þá
Eru fyr á beði
Og þræll er finna þjónustu á,
Þórður Finst nefnist sá.

XXI.
Gísla allir aðrir með
Úti bæta að heyjum,
Storma spallið rymja réð
Og regnfall um svartnættið.

XXII.
Ljótt og spakan heyra má
Um húsin geisar maður;
Liggur vakinn Vésteinn þá,
Vöðum nakinn undir lá.

XXIII.
Eigi fregnast um þvert þar
Eiturskeyðið kalda,
Bæfing þegn á beði var
Brjóstið gegnum lagður þar.

XXIV.
Hremmdur grandi hjalar þá:
"Hneit þar skeyðið einum;"
Upp vill standa, en fótum hjá
Steypist anda ræntur þá.

XXV.
Vígur allan vegandinn
Við í sári stildí;
Launvíg kallar speitin svinn
Spó til fallin vígsmálin.

XXVI.
Hver sem brandi nam að ná
Úr nauða rauðu fári,
Nest til standa þótti þá
Í brúmu randa hefnd að fá.

XXVII.
Ráfnar Auður, harma hljóð
Hefur dúfan sorfa;
Vall um dauðan Véstein blóð,
Vopnið rauða í hjarta stóð.

XXVIII.
Þórð hún beiðir þræl að ná
Þundar tundri úr sári;
Hugar bleyði hann nam þjá,
Hreddur skreið í felur þá.

XXIX.
Gísli þá í gáttum þó
Gekk og fekk að líta
Hinn sem lá við heljar þró,
Hrottann bláa úr sári dró.

XXX.
Laufann blóði litaðan
Lasti í kistu eina,
Sýnir þjóðum hvergi hann,
Heiptar glöð í skapi brann.

XXXI.
Bjó um náinn síðan þá
Siðum tíðar fylgdi;
Vésteinn dáinn virðar þrá,
Vini fá því marga á.

XXXII.
Við Guðríði Gísli þá
Greinir megna unga:
"Svanninn fríði Sæból á
Get þú lýði heim, og gát

XXXIII.
Hvað þar bragnar hafast að
Hér um þér jeg trúi,
Að flytja sagnir satt um það."
Svanninn dragar þá af stað.

XXXIV.
Blíðleg snótin bænum há
Bráðum náði hinum,
Vera fótum alla á
Eisu fljóta þýra þá.

XXXV.
Hökli gránum hjúpaðir
Holdar gildir sátu,
Báru spana bekkjarnir
Benvargana í mundum þér.

XXXVI.
Kveðjur seinar fljóðið fær,
Fátt var slétt um ræður;
Vésteins greinir morðið mér;
Mál svo ræna Þorkell nær:

XXXVII.
"Frétt það heita hefði mátt
Hinar vina tíðir,
Þegar sveitum þótti dátt."
Þorgrímr breytir máli brátt:

XXXVIII.
"Hér er maður hniginn sá,
Er heiður bjóða ættum,
Á því hraðast okkur hjá
Útfarnaðinn bestan sá."

XXXIX.
"Því að sonnum sér á stað
Verðum ferð að gjöra
Og fylgja honum þangað,
Herm þú kona Gísla það."

XL.
Gengur sprund og Gísla þá
Gjörir svörin bera,
Kjölum þungar alla á
Orma grundar þýra þá.

XLI.
Bar Þorgrímur harðan hjálm
Og hélt á gelti sára,
En Þorkell hélt á þynntu skalm,
Sem þyrfti stíma hildar fálm.

XLII.
Þar er Nefur Þorgrímur
Þunna búldu,
Á bænum hefur bragna hvar
Brýnt í hnefum fagran dör.

XLIII.
Gísli náinn myrtað með
Og menn er þenna bera,
Á Sandmél háan halda réð
Heygja á þar valmennið.

XLIV.
Fyrir norðan Sæból sá
Seggjum byggist haugur;
Gísli horfðist hinir á
Halda um stóðið honum frá.

XLV.
Þorgríms manna þorra frí
Þar að bar með honum;
Hauginn grannar hlóðu þeir,
Hniginn mann þar leggja í.

XLVI.
Svona þá var Þorgríms svar:
"Þeim af heimi fara,
Helskó ljá, er háttur var,
Að hafa á til Valhallar."

XLVII.
"Véstein núna vanda þann
Í vina skyni jeg bjóni;
Og svo skúna á batt hann;
Að því búnu mæla vann:"

XLVIII.
"Ekki kann jeg, holdum hjá,
Helskó vel að binda,
Losni þannig festir frá
Fötum manni helveg á."

XLIX.
Haugin undir orpinn þá
Ítrir sitja mágar,
Enginn lund né eðli brá;
Um þá stund réð Þorkell tjá:

L.
"Er ei bjéð af harma hátt
Hrundin linda Auður."
Gísli tjáði: "Geta mátt
Gerði bráða fæti fátt."

LI.
"Drauma réð jeg réttar fá,"
Ræðir fríður Gísli,
"Bíl þó kveða varla á
Vígið skeð þvert mundi há."

LII.
"Höggorm sá jeg hrökkst frá
Hjarna bænum einum,
Gómur ljá til þangs brá
Brjóstið dáins Vésteins á."

LIII.
Engum segja öðrum það
Atum úþýtum vildi,
Um þéttinn þegja best fer að;
Baugs þá sveigir vísu kvað:

LIV.
"Hugðum betra Vésteinn vér
Bænum raunar sýnn,
Þegar setur höfðum hér
Og horna léttum flóa hvern."

LV.
Spyr til Auðar Þorkell þá
Þannig annan tíma,
Hvernig dauða bróður brá
Baugsin rauða viður grá.

LVI.
"Tíðt þú fréttir fræni um það,"
Fríður ræðir Gísli;
Vitur netta vísu kvað;
Virðar settu nú á stað.

LVII.
Fylgjast bræður fram um hlað,
Fyrir einir verða,
Tók að ræða Þorkell það:
"Þung víss maða stefnir að."

LVIII.
"Harmar sér jeg, hýri, þér
Huga drjúgum spenna,
En lengst þvert fer með fjúlsum sér,
Samt jeg ber, hvað innra fer."

LIX.
"Vildi jeg létir minnst, sem má,
Menn á finna skapi,
Þótt hér getur aukist á,
Ei til betra horfir há."

LX.
"Þinna vegna," hjalar hinn, "ljótt skal þetta fara,
Eins ef gegnir annað sinn,
Ef jeg þegninn biðja vinn."

LXI.
"Kynni að berast álfugt að
Áður lína stundin."
"Það skal vera," Þorkell fann;
Þegnar sneru nú í hlað.

LXII.
Hraustir rekkar Hóli á
Hornin borna láta,
Hugar ekki ama sá,
Erfi drekka Vésteins þá.

LXIII.
Ekki tjáir þanka að hjá
Þungum drunga sorga,
Þeim sem má er heppni hjá,
Hugar þrá að þæla í þá.

LXIV.
Grundarfæti stundum kann
Stöpull stapa heimur,
Upp ef ratist ánægjan,
Ástvín bætir sjaldan hann.

Source Text: Sjötta Ríma

Icelandic source text transcribed from the Copenhagen 1857 Fraktur edition. OCR cleaned and reconstructed where damaged.

Old/Middle Icelandic source text from Sigurdur Breidfjord, Rimur af Gisla Surssyni (Copenhagen: S. L. Moller, 1857), pp. 33-39. OCR transcription from Fraktur print, cleaned by translator. Presented for reference and verification.

Mansongur (I-XIV)

I. Hef eg a spodum hrafnafjodur vaena,
Thetta bruga eignin er,
Ef nu fljuga taefist mer.

II. Tha skal leti liggja i fletti heima,
Ein hun verda efjan ma,
Thvi eg mun ferdast vilja tha.

III. Tha skal fjuka fjoll og hnjufa yfir,
Lerki og andi eda sty,
Ohemjandi verd eg tho.

IV. Vina kynni vil eg finna minna,
Nordur Vesturhopi hja
Holanum sezt eg nidur a.

V. Hitta skyldi helgra milding doma,
Thak ef aetti hana hljod
Honum thvaetta faert ljod.

VI. Og svo thadan ymsa stadi skoda,
Hvar eg aldrei vistum var,
Vid svo staldra hjer og thar.

VII. Vid skaldin nordur skyldi ordum bitast,
Flutt sem hafa fagra fra,
Og forna stafi minnast a.

VIII. Nordan meyjar margir segja vaenar,
Eg ef faeri um jardir naer
Jafngott vaeri ad skoda thaer.

IX. Einhver kynni svaeda minna njota,
Mig thar lata og lika i kaup,
Litid thjaturs bjoda staup.

X. Ef svo leti lukkan vetur thennan
Ordid get eg auds hja norn
Atjan vetra stundar korn.

XI. Veikt er flug tho vonum huga lypti,
Finn eg nokkud eftir er,
Med allan strokkinn sit eg hjer.

XII. Slikar ferdir fyrir verd eg hraeddur,
Thessar fjandans freistingar
Ripa anda gafurnar.

XIII. Af ollu thessu, er eg messad hefi,
Finn eg samt tha fraeda grein,
Fjodurinn skamt ma draga ein.

XIV. Eg ma sitja og sogu vitja minnar;
Eftir thad nu idran finn,
Illa kvad eg mansonginn.

Narrative (XV-LXXVI)

XV. Nystar lofa neggja hofu leika,
Um sem sann eg vefja tal,
Betur thann i Haukadal.

XVI. Knattleik hafa huglar stafir linna,
Gisli ma vid Thorgrim tha
Threytast a og leikinn ha.

XVII. Tidum manna milli vann ad bera,
Hver vid mesta hreysti bjo,
Halda flestir Gisla tho.

XVIII. A einni tjorn their eiga vorn og soknir,
Vesteins hja tha baugi var,
Holdar snair leika thar.

XIX. Einhvern dag, sem a er fagurvidri,
Fjoldi manna fer a kreik,
Ur Fjordum thann ad saekja leik.

XX. Gisli segir: 'Thad gjorir mjer ad leidast
Thorgrim einan etja vid,
Adrir reyna komid hid.'

XXI. Thegnar inna: 'Thetta finn vjer badum
Thig ad saefdhast Thorgrim vid,
Thar um slakist umtalid.'

XXII. Hver af ydur afli midur styri,
Holdar segja ad hlifist thu,
En hafdhu ei thann vanda nu.

XXIII. Allir hjer vid unnum bera saema,
Af ef meira er thjer hja,
Alma freyri lattu sja.

XXIV. Vitur tjair: 'Verda ma thad reynist.'
Sidan leikast seggir a,
Soknir eykur Gisli tha.

XXV. Vanst Thorgrimi varla gliman betur,
Hnottinn missti, er halda a,
Hodur kyssti fallinn tha.

XXVI. Skinn af knjam skufast nu og hnjanum,
Blod ur vitum buna fer,
Bjodur hvita mundar tjer.

XXVII. Ad Vesteins haug hann veltir auga og tjadi:
'I sarum gnast, vid guma stja,
Geir, en lasta ekki ma.'

XXVIII. Hnottinn Gisli glimu fyst a tamur,
Honum sendi herdar a,
Hann spo endur falla ma.

XXIX. Og tha spjallar ullur mjalla handar:
'Bollur stalli byrdar a
Brast, en varla lasta ma.'

XXX. Thorkell tjair: 'Thad hjer sjuum allir,
Hver bar meiri mattar er
Mekja freyr og bezt ad sjer.'

XXXI. Nu skal baetta hnattar sletti thessum.
Vid thad linna leikarnir,
Til landa sinna hver einn fer.

XXXII. Fyrda snau fatt vard tha a milli.
Enn thess getur, oldin fljot
Efnir veturnatta blot.

XXXIII. Thorgrimur Berki brodur sterka sinum
Baud og hefni Thordar tha
Theim er nefna Eyjolf ma.

XXXIV. Marga lika maktar rika adra
Til sin kvedur tyrs a meg
Ad taka gledi og blota Frey.

XXXV. Gisli bydur buum vida sinum,
Og ur firdi Onundar
Ollum virdum magum thar.

XXXVI. A Saeboli sali fjola hlynir
Tjalda tha, en Thorgrimur
Vid Thorkel tjair marglatur:

XXXVII. 'Oss thann greida Gisla beid thu syna,
Refla virdum vaena lja,
Er Vestein myrdum fekk hann hja.'

XXXVIII. 'Allt veit hann, sem hofud kann ad meta,'
Thorkell svarar, 'thvi um fron
Thessa spara mun eg bon.'

XXXIX. Grimur segir: 'Tha gedjast mjer ad senda,'
Vid Geirmund segir: 'gaktu a stad;'
Gjora ei hann vildi thad.

XL. En Thorgrimur gekk ad ungum Baldri,
Hogg a vanga honum slo,
Hann kvad ganga skyldi tho.

XLI. Ungur svarar: 'Eg mun fara hljota,
En vist hjer ann eg fylu ad fa,
Ef folann thannig borga ma.'

XLII. Geiri fer og Gisla tjair af letta,
Lika ber hann bodin tha,
Bauga verinn nadi tja:

XLIII. 'Viltu, Audur, vatna haudum loga
Stofutjoldin litum lja;'
Sjoma oldu maelti gna:

XLIV. 'Veit eg thar um thu munt fara naerri,
Hlynum nada heidurs til
Hvorki eg thad nje annad vil.'

XLV. Gisli bekkur gripi fekk i hendur
Hinum tho er hjer theim beid,
Med honum bro sig ut a leid.

XLVI. Thylja gerdi: 'Ina ferd eg hefi
Aesta goda gjorfa nu,
Svo greida bjoda maettir thu.'

XLVII. Likt thjer ber ad lidi mjer ad verda,
Gjofin hver til gjalda sjer,
Greida hjer eg fys af thjer.

XLVIII. Lat i kvoldi lokuhald fra dyrum,
Ef a kinnhest Thorgrims thann
Thig ad minnast fusa kann.

XLIX. 'A Thorkeli engin vjel ad bua,'
Geiri tjadi, gegndi fri
Geymir dada og neitar thvi.

L. Sveinninn tjadi: 'Sem thu madir beida,
Matti lagast ma ske tho;'
Med thad slagar burtu ja.

LI. Kemur holdur heim med tjoldin godu,
Theim hann fleygir thegnum hja;
Thorkell segir: 'Raun er tha.'

LII. Tholinmodur mest er brodir Gisli,
Breyta midur mundum vjer
Manninn vid, en okkur ber.

LIII. Thorgrimr tjadi: 'Thad hans rad er betra
Vorn ei lesta vinskapinn;'
Virdar festa upp refilinn.

LIV. Tha ad kvoldi thangad fjoldi ridur,
Buinn vigri beittum hver
Borkur digri og Eyjolfur.

LV. A thessum fundi tha var hundrad manna,
I stofu sundar skatna lid
Og skala sundin unir vid.

LVI. Gisli lika grimum sira laetur,
Halft er manna hundrad thar,
Hornin spanna kempurnar.

LVII. Um pris og meli menn thar staela ekki,
Eins og snudig agirndin,
Sem a med budar lykilinn.

LVIII. Mjodurinn forni fedra hornin bleytti,
Breidum eikarbordum a
Bjorinn leifa matti tha.

LIX. Gisli veitti vel af beittum midi,
Hausa dofa flestir fa,
For ad sofa um kveldid tha.

LX. Bondinn sina bauga byr vidur Hjalar:
'Snarast hestum ad lyt eg
Fara og sja um thad.'

LXI. 'Bid i burum brudir fyr a medan,
Ad naer slaga aftur fra,
Attu ad draga lokur fra.'

LXII. Vopnid thad sem Vestein skada nadi
Hann ur kistu hendir tha,
Husum bistur sneri fra.

LXIII. Ad Saeboli audur fjola vendi,
Honum kunnug hofding var,
Hjorfa gunnur byggdi thar.

LXIV. Fyrst hann inn i fjosid vinnur ganga,
Thrjatiu beljur basum a
Til beggja telja hlida ma.

LXV. Gaman thrutir hetjan slytt medur
Nautum bala alla a,
Ut an dvalar sneri tha.

LXVI. Hetjan burdug baejar hurdu finnur,
Durum lokad ekki er,
Inn hann bokad getur sjer.

LXVII. Ljod i skala litur stala hlynur;
Thar ad straumum hendir hann,
I hvilu sa einn vaka mann.

LXVIII. Sa med henni helt sem tendra vildi
Ljosid slokkt, en Gisli gekk
Um gongin snogt og breifast fekk.

LXIX. Ad Thorgrims bedi breifast red og finna
Sorfa dokkum systir hans,
Svaf vid stokk i rumi manns.

LXX. Vaknar svanni og segir manninn vidur:
'Hondin thin er helst i koldu,
Hollin min, svo aerid kold.'

LXXI. Tjer Thorgrimur tvinna gimu vidur:
'Eg skal snuast tha ad thjer
Thetta nu ef betur fer.'

LXXII. Stod um hrid vid stokk og bidur Gisli,
I kapu sinni hlyr hond,
Helst er vinna atti grand.

LXXIII. Thorgrim sidan sara gridi lagdi,
Gegnum manninn ganga red
Grasida og stod i bed.

LXXIV. Blodid hrundi um bed, og sprundid nana;
Thrydilega unnid ad
Engan veg ma falla thad.

LXXV. Hefndargirni heidri spyrnir tidum,
Svik ad gjalda svikum med
Soldir sjaldann auka red.

LXXVI. Eitt til bota er bodi ljota verki,
Veit eg thjodin segir svinn
Sjerhvern godan jofnudinn.

Source Text: Sjöunda Ríma

Icelandic source text transcribed from the Copenhagen 1857 Fraktur edition. OCR cleaned and reconstructed where damaged.

Old/Middle Icelandic source text from Sigurður Breiðfjörð, Rímur af Gísla Surssyni (Copenhagen: S. L. Möller, 1857), pp. 39–45. OCR transcription from Fraktur print, cleaned by translator. Presented for reference and verification.

Mansöngur (I–XII)

I. Öllum gengur eitthvað til / Iðju sinnar brögnum spökum, / Að jeg lengi ljóða spil / Lét jeg byggt á sömu rökum.

II. Arma þakjan ólundín, / Sem dýnd hefur fyrna ljóta, / Heim vill svæfja huga minn / Hvergi þó til neinna bóta.

III. Þegar hún svæðin heyrir há / Hún ei ræður að mjer þröngva, / Vofan leðist folska frá, / Því flestir þræðast draugar söngva.

IV. Um það sjá hjer Iðun má, / Ef að þjáist raunum geðið, / Hrekki smá og hugar þrá / Hef jeg frá mjer tíðum kveðið.

V. Ljé mjer önndu einnig þá / Iðun máttar söngva rífa, / Að geti fjöndum öðrum á / Unnið sláttur svæða líka.

VI. Þeim ómildu er magna tjón, / Myrða snild, en hefnda vona, / Mín ef skyldi bíta bón, / Byrja vildi' jeg bana svona:

VII. Eitur dreifi illur sjá, / Að sem þreyngir Pýtóni, / Þeirra leiki lifur á / Og leifi engu kvala tjóni.

VIII. Sin með óðu áþrifin, / Sem engar mega varnir líta, / Ætti á glóðum innyflin / Eiturfleygum góma svitta.

IX. Og svo mætti aukast við / Innyflin um lengstu tíðir, / Eins og tætti óvættið, / Svo aldrei linni kvala hríðir.

X. Bezt er þegja og byrgja móð, / Stjála engum spektar vana; / Bænin eigi yrði góð, / Ef jeg lengja færi hana.

XI. Það er betra bragar strá / Að þjóna setri færra vina, / Söguletur líta á / Og lamið geta ólundina.

XII. Lét jeg hljóma ljóð öðul / Um landa skjóma' og fornar tíðir, / Helgra dóma hörðum þul / Helzt er söma nægin prýðir.

Narrative (XIII–LXV)

XIII. Þegar helja handa köld / Hniginn mundi Þorgrím taka, / Þórdís beljar óð á öld, / Alla biður menn að vaka.

XIV. "Bóndi minn á beði er / Bana stunginn niðinglega." / Gísli finna ferða fer / Fram úr skála beina vega.

XV. Gengt úr bæ var fram í sjóð, / Fljótast þangað sporin hvetur, / Allur frægi elda fjós, / Út svo þaðan komist getur.

XVI. Hurðu heimur binda réð, / Brautu síðan rakti þvera, / Labbar heim og leggst á beð, / Kætur ekki' á neinu bera.

XVII. Á Sæbóli æðrast sveit, / Ölvinglaðir skefju kolla, / Enginn skjóla viður veit, / Vanda hvað þeim mátti olla.

XVIII. Orð þá vefur Eyjólfur, / Ölsa frá sjer hristi rótið: / "Hjer er frekur fljónskapur, / Fólkið allt er rænu brotið."

XIX. "Ljós og hýr um höðslin / Holdar kvæki og leita náis, / Vaktiö byr, svo vegandinn / Víkið ekki úr bænum fái."

XX. Leitir sveinar fremja frí, / Finnst ei nokkur aðkomandi, / Einhver meina inni búi / Ollað hafi slíku grandi.

XXI. Loks af degi ljómar brá, / Leita eigi tjáir fremur, / Dáinn leggja Þorgrím þá, / Þambar freyjum öllum semur.

XXII. Þeir fertin heim á Höl / Halda nýju líkfölgdinni; / Gísli hljast hefur skjól / Hvílu í með beðju sinni.

XXIII. Þorkell snýr að hvílu hans, / Hetjan ró af augum slítur, / Freyrinn skíri skrenings sands / Freðna skó við stokkinn lítur.

XXIV. Þann hann ýtir undir skor / Ekki vill að fleiri sjái, / Svo að ýtar í haus skor / Engan grun af slíku fái.

XXV. Gísli fagnar fyrðum þá / Frétta sagnir biður bylja, / Þorgríms bragnar tjó við þjá; / Talar magni jötuns ilja:

XXVI. "Skammt á milli verur vist / Verka illra og stórræðanna." / Nú með snilli bóndinn býst, / Bauð að fylla hópinn granna.

XXVII. "Þvílíkt að oss eigið hjer," / Öggur naða réði svara; / Þetta hraðast þegið er, / Þeir af stað svo allir fara.

XXVIII. Haug þeir ná að hlaða í svip, / Sá fá ei verður minni, / Lögðu dáið lík í skip, / Lykja á svo haugsins sinni.

XXIX. Gísli bríður býsna bjarg, / Bar hann það á eng að nótum, / Eins og skisa skalf við sarg / Skipið allt og lá við brotum.

XXX. Þetta segja vitur vann / Vopna sveigir máttar frekur: / "Festa ei jeg kneri fann / Kári sleg ef þetta tekur."

XXXI. Heim svo þaðan haugi frá / Hvessings blaða grímar skeiða, / Gísli kvað við Þorkel þá: / "Þjer nú að jeg heimti greiða."

XXXII. "Bið jeg nú, sem vist mjer hjézt / Véstein þá vjer náðum heyja, / Að vingan nú sje bræðra bezt / Beggja;" "Já," nam Þorkell segja.

XXXIII. Veizlu náir virðar sjá, / Vínið drjúgum lekið getur, / Eftir búinn Þorgrím þá / Þurftu að kúga hornin betur.

XXXIV. Ömsun fýnist ofgar það / Og þá menn á baki skopa, / Hallíst víni einhver að, / Sem ekki neunir að telja dropa.

XXXV. En feður glaðir fornaldar / Fylltu mjöðar hornin stóru, / Barka traðir bleyttu þar, / En baknagðir minna vöru.

XXXVI. Veizlu á báðum bæjum sleit, / Börkur fáni glöð úr höfum; / Gísli skúðar sína sveit / Sæmdi dauða snötrum gjöfum.

XXXVII. Börkur þaðan beysti jó, / Þorgrímr Nef sig lætur hugga, / Kauðann bað að kvefa ró, / Kyngi ef nú mætti brugga.

XXXVIII. Á manni þeim, er Þorgrím drap / Það skal spjallið töfra hrina, / Svo í heimi heiptar skap / Honum allir nái skína.

XXXIX. Ráðin standa láta ljót, / Lítiö hugsa til hins betra, / Töfra fjandinn fjekk á mót / Feitan uxa nín vetra.

XL. Galdra hundur hjall sjer býr / Og heilan seið á einu bergi, / Sövika lundin sæðing snýr / Svo til reiðir fjanda ergi.

XLI. Niðinglegast söng við seið, / Svarta stafi risti glanni, / Alla vega lýðan leið, / Landið af svo töfra manni.

XLII. Á Sæbóli Börkur há / Búið dáins hlöra krefur, / Líka stölu naðru ná / Metta þá í arma vefur.

XLIII. Lofnin læða eigi ein / Um það leitt mundi vera, / Því næst fæðir Þórdís svein, / Þorgríms heiti lætur bera.

XLIV. Í stapi breytinn verða vann / Viður friður salar boða, / Sneru heiti, og snjalling þann / Snorra síðan nefndu goða.

XLV. Þar ósmeikur Börkur bjó / Í bezta gengi og vífið spaka, / Hafa leifi þegnar þó, / Þykkja engin náði jafn.

XLVI. Nefnd enn þæfja Auðbjörg ein, / Anmarka hún byggði staði / Æfði klakja og galdra grein / Síði forraktaði.

XLVII. Það var systir Þorgríms Nefs, / Því hún fáum dyggðum skeytir, / Dökkin bista dofra stefs / Dreng sjer á, hann Þorsteinn heitir.

XLVIII. Gá að leikjum seggja var / Sagðan þá um vetrar tíma, / Ekki veifa burði bar, / Börkur á við þann að stíma.

XLIX. Börkur endist illa við, / Undan slatt því snúa hlýtur; / Þykkja brenndi banka svið, / Þorsteins knattartrje hann brýtur.

L. Niður Börk á bláisinn / Brynju draugur afli fremur / Rak með hörku harðefninn, / Hjer að augum Gísli kemur.

LI. Eggja réð um glímu göng / Gísli Steina að hlífaist minna; / Honum ljéði hnattar stöng / Og hárs á meg nam sáti finna.

LII. Þorgríms hann að haugi þá / Haddar fjalla velti steinum, / Kveða vann hann vísu þá, / Er vænum höllum kann að meinum:

LIII. "Eg í túni teina fá / Tálið Þorgríms sínar fálu, / Geig við rúna gímu þá / Gunnblíks nurna á skeiði hálu."

LIV. Þórdís systir Gísla gat / Greinir fest og ráðið líka, / Narri lista leiknum flat / Lofnin hreysta glóða víka.

LV. Leikinn slítur Þorsteinn þá, / Þrammar fljóta heim nær skyggði, / Og Bergur nýtur honum þjá / Hann Skammfótar-mýri byggði.

LVI. Um leikinn snjallir brátta þó, / Þóttust allir vel fram ganga, / Buðlu skalla Bergur sló / Bráins fjalla tyr á vanga.

LVII. Burt skildir þegnar þá, / Því ei fóðu deilur fremur, / Þorsteinn hildar harki frá / Heim til móður sinnar kemur.

LVIII. Kerling stundi ára ær, / Amað þætti vera sveini; / Ekki blundað fuglinn fær, / Fer um nóttu út í leyni.

LIX. Bumbult marar báls er gná, / Úr bænum nær þó út að skríða; / Harka var og heiðríkt á, / Hvergi blær um dali fríða.

LX. Akar fæti andhelis / Öll um strætin dyggða vana; / Gangi búr ætíð góðs á mis, / Gáfan tætt sízt um bana.

LXI. Loftsins naður endi að, / Í áttir suðst og viðrar trýni, / Eitthvað las hún ljótt við það, / Og langar vist að slíkt á hríni.

LXII. En á meðan kindin fljóð, / Kuklið maðist þannig viður, / Bylja veður vara tók / Og vatna flaði helti niður.

LXIII. Bresta flóð úr fjalli sann, / Fjall á salt, er Bergur átti, / Tjörgu rjóð við tólfta mann / Tjóðra í kvalir heljar mátti.

LXIV. Þar sem niður hljóp um hjall / Helling þver og eyddi vegi, / Öldín skríðu ógna fall / Enn þá sjést hverjum degi.

LXV. Þvílík kong, það eg skil, / Sem þuldi fræðin heilla vana, / Hún má vona vistar til / Við seiðhleður Elðróssgrana.

Source Text: Áttunda Ríma

Icelandic source text transcribed from the Copenhagen 1857 Fraktur edition. OCR cleaned and reconstructed where damaged.

Icelandic source text from Sigurður Breiðfjörð, Rímur af Gísla Súrssyni (Copenhagen: S.L. Möllers, 1857), pp. 46–52. Reconstructed from OCR of Fraktur print. Characters in [brackets] indicate uncertain readings.

Mansöngur

I.
Þó eg áður yðar bani
Ísastorðar þjóðin fær,
Ljóðin stráðum linna bana
Lestrar borðum háfa nær.

II.
Þegar blæður tóna taka
Sem treystá gæða hljóðunum,
Þykir mæða minnst að vaka
Mörgum klæða flóðunum.

III.
Nokkrir lá þeim ljóðin þylja
Og lasti síða um málin fríð,
Gagníð þá ei þessir skilja
Það sem svæðin vinna lýð.

IV.
Feðra dæmi forn að skilja
Fyrri tíða heill og þrá,
Skerpir næmi og vekur vilja
Verkin fríð að stunda á.

V.
Ef engin myndum dæmi af dauðum,
Dofna fyndist hyggjan smá,
Bærum blindir verri sauðum,
Við kvikindin líktumst þá.

VI.
Sagna lestur fær þótt kynni
Kjörin flestu tíða þjóð,
Seggir bezt í sannsa inni
Samin festa rímna ljóð.

VII.
Þó eg falli þarflegt vera
Þegna hveim er mennt til bar,
Rímna spjall á borðið bera,
Svo betur geymist sögurnar.

VIII.
Hér á grundast heiður bjóða
Heims um stundir langvinnar,
Danir undrast ellisfróðar
Ísa grundar fræðurnar.

IX.
Þó ei leyna hlítir heimi,
Heiður vorn það auka kann,
Sig hjá einum okkur geymir
Eðalbornu norrænan.

X.
Dæt má snilli og þarfa falla
Þeirra ljóð sem kveða vel;
Slíka hylli og heiðri alla
Hyggin þjóð um langa mel.

XI.
Hinum spott og hatur fæmir,
Er heiður skaðar vorum lýð,
Og úr hvopti fúlum slæmir
Forraktaðast klám og níð.

XII.
Hans ei anda nemi nokkur,
Níðið bezt að kefja fer,
Slíkur fjandans fúlu strokkur
Forsmán mest í landi er.

XIII.
Þessum synda drjúgum bóla,
Er druslar mynda skömmum af,
Átti að binda á bakið fóla,
Í botnlaust hrinda gleymsku haf.

XIV.
Við þær gálur lukkulausur
Líka væri ráða bót,
Belg að færa á bera hausa
Og binda snæri um kverka mót.

XV.
Vjér forsmáum galda glanna,
Gleðin hjá oss nærri býr,
Að þylja strá um sögu sanna
Sóma háum fræða týr.

Söguefni

XVI.
Þorsteinn mundi hefndir bræða,
Þó bretti bráða kerling öl;
Á Gísla fundinn gat að laðast,
Gott þar náði byggja skjól.

XVII.
Síðan hirðir handar jaka
Hefnd á meðan færi gaf,
Í Borgarfirði far nam taka,
Og fluttist héðan landi af.

XVIII.
Börkur frétti kúnstir kynga
Kerlingar og þangað fer,
Tekur gretta griðin bringa,
Gat hún þar ei forðað sér.

XIX.
Í Saltnes færir Auðbjörgu illa
Öggur heru Friggjar fá,
Steinum ferst hún digur drylla,
Dauðans kler svo gifta má.

XX.
Gísli flýtir ferðum lífa,
Fjölnis svanna ríður hann,
Þorgrímr nýtin neista víka
Nefsstaðanna böndann fann.

XXI.
Töfra skrattann hitta heima,
Helzt er gröndum valda kann,
Kemur fljótt að sendir seima,
Síðan höndum hefur þann.

XXII.
Belg á hausinn binda fóta,
Bykkju drögú í Saltnesið,
Úrlausum boðli blóta,
Byrgist ró um þetta spíð.

XXIII.
Kenndi meina, í belgnum beljar
Bólgað skeini, og hveljur saup,
Lömdu steinum hann til heljar
Hlýnir fleina í verka kaup.

XXIV.
Svika fjanda speinir teitir
Hjá systur hlíð þar byrgja mól,
Á Nástranda sultar sveitir
Sett þau niður voru í dvöl.

XXV.
Þangað vitja búlan skyldi,
Þegar hörðum vetri brá,
Börkur flytja búis vildi
Í Breiðafjörðinn suður þá.

XXVI.
Þorkell fylgja þegni mundi
Og Þórdís kvinna Barkar frjáls;
Gunnu ylgjar laut að lundi
Lofnin tvinna og byrjar máls:

XXVII.
"Gísli hefur ort þann óðinn,
Eg sem hneigi ráðning frá,
Sök má gefa þegni þjóðin,
Þorgrím vegið hefur jú."

XXVIII.
"Ljóð eg festi og líka réði,
Ljóst hann eigi málið kvað."
Börkur mest í grimmu geði
Gísla segist launa það.

XXIX.
"Veit þó eigi," vaskur tjáði,
"Vís hvort þegir rétt á skil;
Köld eru meyja og konu ráðin,
En kveða eigi man eg til."

XXX.
Barkar lundu Þorkell böðir,
Á þessu sefa nam um stund;
Skaut sér undan, áfast ríður,
Á síns bróður kemur fund.

XXXI.
Gísla hitti á Sæli, og tjáðist
Hefjast sér eg mála rök;
Þórdís kvittinn þrjóta náði
Á þig að bera sögu þat.

XXXII.
"Gleymast líkast," Gísli ræðir,
"Grundað síður hefðum vér,
Að vor systir býr í bræði
Banastríð á hendur mér."

XXXIII.
"Spyrja nú eg vil í sannda,
Viður marar ljóma þér,
Hvernig þá vilt hjá mér standa,"
Honum svara Þorkell fer:

XXXIV.
"Eins og nú þig vil eg vara,
Víti eg staða nærri stá
Vel með trú, en örlög spara
Þín, hvað sem verða má.

XXXV.
Minn er góði byrinn bágur,
Brjósti mínu ei gleymast kann,
Að fóstbróðir minn og mágur
Morð af þínum höndum fann."

XXXVI.
"Sízt má undra," Gísli greinir,
"Að gremjast lundin kynni þá,
Vésteinn sundra vann með fleini
Vigra lundur fyrri já.

XXXVII.
Þér ei mundi eg þannig svara
Þú ef stæðir vanda í."
Skilja fundinn fúna vara
Freyjar meðulega því.

XXXVIII.
Þorkell nær þar Börkur bíður,
Búast ríða suður þá,
Þórdís mær og meiri lóður
Meiðum stíða fylgja á.

XXXIX.
Barkar fara systur synir,
Saka-Steinn og Þóroddur,
Þeim með fara þeygi línir
Þorgeir einnig austmaður.

XL.
Sanda-hríð hjá Ósi aja
Álfar treyju jörum þá,
Þorkell ríður þar til bæjar,
Þurfa segist skuld að ná.

XLI.
Góðan hest fær garpur hrestur
Gríms á kvindu skjótleifinn,
Ríður mest sem má hann vestur,
Og mætan finnur bróður sinn.

XLII.
Bað um stundir, Gísli grundi
Að geyma dáð og kenlig ráð,
Börkur mundi fá hans fundi
Og ferðast bráðum þar um láð.

XLIII.
Aftur sneri geira grjérinn,
Getur náum brögnum ná,
Börkur fer um Bjarnar verinn
Og bragnar fráir Þingnes á.

XLIV.
Gísla býr hann mál á móti
Um myrðing hlöra þingi á,
Þaðan snýr með þusfju hóti,
Þófa búrin reyna stjá.

XLV.
Gísli fleira vaun um veldi,
Vissi að ölust kjörin hörð;
Þorkell Eiríks syni seldi
Sína Hólinn eignar jörð.

XLVI.
Eyk og sleða traustur hefir,
Tíðum nóg já ráðin öl,
Fjárhlut með hann ærinn ekur
Út á skóg og barna föl.

XLVII.
Með sér þrælinn þramma lætur
Þórð hinn raga dáðlausan,
Þingla delu týr ágætur
Talið lagar svo við hann:

XLVIII.
"Líðsemd knáa í löngum ferðum
Launa á eg fleina grer,
Kápu þá eg hef á herðum
Hina bláu gef eg þér."

XLIX.
"Þú skalt prófa hvernig hagar
Hún, og setjast sleðann í."
Á sig böfinn dúk nam draga,
Dável lét hann yfir því.

L.
Þræll ógætinn gjörðist kátur,
Gefu og heiður vara fann,
Helzt í sæti hreifilátur,
En hryssu leiða bóndinn vann.

LI.
Grýlu bar hann kuflinn kundar
Og fölölitt lér á hjarna skor;
Börkur þar að skógi skundar,
Skatna sér og herji for.

LII.
Þórður hræðist, hljóp af sleða,
Hjartað kápan lítið jóf,
Í skóginn æðir eithvað héðan
Undir bráð og flýja tók.

LIII.
Þú er hempan mest að meini,
Minna hlaupið fer en vill,
Beinar kempan lágt í leyni,
Linar hraupið hræzla ill.

LIV.
Þetta Gísla þínir halda,
Henda svæðar eltingar,
Honum písla vilja valda,
Völlu æða gulltoppar.

LV.
Skaut austmaður skorpu spjóti,
Skaðinn fregnast bráðum meir,
Hleypur það að herða móti
Og þjó í gegnum kápu freyr.

LVI.
Í dauðans bað svo datt óglaður
Drengur mörku skógar á.
"Skjóttu maður margblessaður,"
Mælti Börkur fátur þá.

LVII.
Þangað snýr nú þjón ójálin,
Þarf að hyggja um sigurinn,
Happið rýrist, þekkja skál
Þarna liggja dauðskotinn.

LVIII.
Eltingu stinna einnig gera,
Áta þver var þeygi seinn,
Við þrælinn hinn sem þekkja vera,
Þóroddur og Saka-Steinn.

LIX.
Steinn nam spjót í skyndi skaka,
Gljóma renndi að manni þá,
Hinn á móti mundi taka,
Og miðjan sendi Þórodd á.

LX.
Blóði spýtir undin öðum,
Öndur lítur kroppi frá,
Steinn sér flýtir, sörgum hljóðum
Fagnaður lítinn mundi tjá.

LXI.
Um skóginn vana af skapi knúðir
Skarpir spanga njótarnir,
Sér austmaður limið lýðist,
Lensu þangað skjóta fer.

LXII.
Gegnum fálgann Gísla renndi
Geirinn ljóti og særði hann,
Dró út sjálfur bjór með hendi
Hann, og skjóta aftur vann.

LXIII.
Á austmanninn miða náði,
Mund að láni störði þor,
Gálast hann, og laut að láði,
Lítið sínar hinna for.

LXIV.
Lengi náðu leitum hraða,
En lista fráum hvergi ná;
Beði hrjáir skömmum og skaða
Skriðið þá til bæja fá.

LXV.
Vist er hreysti og hugar rekki
Happið best að eiga sér,
Þegar geystir grímmd og hrekki
Glaða flestir óvinir.

Source Text: Níunda Ríma

Icelandic source text transcribed from the Copenhagen 1857 Fraktur edition. OCR cleaned and reconstructed where damaged.

Icelandic source text from Sigurður Breiðfjörð, Rímur af Gísla Súrssyni (Copenhagen: S.L. Möllers, 1857), pp. 52–58. Reconstructed from OCR of Fraktur print. Characters in [brackets] indicate uncertain readings. Stanza numbers from the original print are preserved where identifiable.

Mansöngur

I.
Þegar manna banka vilja þrautir pína,
Sumir bug og höndum týna.

II.
Allar gegnum [dár] þeirra óttinn veður,
Opt um bað sem aldrei skeður.

III.
Harðast undan hopa þeir með bjarta[flætti]
Ófalli, sem aldrei mátti.

IV.
Felnir tíðum firrast þeir með flönsku ljóta
Það sem miða má til bóta.

V.
Nokkrir hyggja að hegja sinni heilla bögun,
Emjandi við kvein og klögun.

VI.
Hverjum manni harma sína hræðir þylja,
Sem hinir [sæstir] heyra vilja.

VII.
Öllu búast illu við og ærast [köldu],
Þessir hafa þungt að líða.

VIII.
Hinir sem ei hjartað láta hræðslu buga,
Meingörðunum móti duga.

IX.
Og þótt standi umgyrtir af ofsóknunum,
Sigur hafa væna von um.

X.
Þótt að kringum þessa nái þrautir gyrða,
Láta þeir ei móðinn myrða.

XI.
Vopnum þó menn veifi ei um vora daga,
Margt vill samt til meina draga.

XII.
Óvættir sem annars vilja auðnu týna,
Alla hvessa odda sína.

XIII.
Fjaðrir eru fyrða sverð á flestum þingum,
Og fylkingar af forörðningum.

XIV.
Þegar kempum þessum slær sem þrumu saman,
Mörgum þykir minnka gaman.

XV.
Ef að þessi ástöp vilja á oss leita,
Fjöðrum verður bezt að beita.

XVI.
Hvort nú betur hógum fer en hinna forðum,
Hafa skal eg ekki að orðum.

Söguefni

XVII.
Börkur eptir bardagann til bæja sneri,
Dugar lítið [gægsann] greri.

XVIII.
Gísli fótar sárið sitt nam sjálfur binda,
Heim svo sneri lundur linda.

XIX.
Ferju mikla fer hann sér og ferma réði,
Ærnu fé á alla beði.

XX.
Einn hann fer með Auði sína og Guðríði,
Ferju heldur fram á víði.

XXI.
Hestinn [sjóð] við Haganesið hepti strengur,
Heim að bænum Gísli gengur.

XXII.
Heimamaður heitis spurði hetju [hallar],
Örjett hann sig eitthvað kallar.

XXIII.
Kastar Gísli stórum steini að storðar endi,
[Í] hólma langt frá landi.

XXIV.
Bað hann segja böndans nið bað bragð að reyna,
Hvort hann lengra hendi steina.

XXV.
Þá mun, kvað hann, þýfast vita þegninn hraður,
Hver hér verið hafi maður.

XXVI.
En bað var á engra færi eptir leifa,
Til skeiðar nam svo kappinn kreika.

XXVII.
Inn á rér hann Arnarfjörð og yfir síðan;
Lítast bar um vöginn víðan.

XXVIII.
Geirbjöfsfjörður gengur innst af gjálpa túnum;
Þangað rér hann báti búnum.

XXIX.
Býst þar um og byggt að nýju bá sér getur,
Náttar bar hinn nesta vetur.

XXX.
Mága sína mætur biður málum svara,
Og sjá, ef mættu, sektum vara.

XXXI.
En þeir sættu um hans mál að öngvu líði,
Sekur varð og firrtur fríði.

XXXII.
Þorkel auðga þetta biðja þegni [þung],
Sízt [þeir] vilja sjálfir finna.

XXXIII.
Gísla Þorkell sína sekt nam segja harða,
Tyrinn [skarar] japa jarðar.

XXXIV.
"Muntu nokkuð vinur vilja verða að líði
Mér, sem nú er firrður fríði."

XXXV.
Nafnar báðir nýtan sögðust nokkuð [bóla],
En öðrum frá sér vanda vísa.

XXXVI.
Betur líða þannig þrír að [endi heima],
Optast var hjá Auði heima.

XXXVII.
Að Þorkétils Eiríkssonar en hann stundum,
Greiða þáði af laufa lundum.

XXXVIII.
Aðra vetur alla þrjá í ama standi
Um fer hann á öllu landi.

XXXIX.
Hann nam til við höfðingja þá helztu leita
Að þeir lið sér vildu veita.

XL.
Eins var þá og optar sker á okkar láði,
Fá vini fær hinn smáði.

XLI.
Það er mælt að Þorgríms seið og þulan kalda
Mundi þessu mest um valda.

XLII.
Af því verður enginn til sem á vill hætta
Að leita fyrir sekan sætta.

XLIII.
Hugnast síðan honum nokkuð heima bíða.
Fólsni tvö sér fer að smíða.

XLIV.
Annað hafði ana við bar engva varði,
Og eitt í klettum upp frá garði.

XLV.
Á[rín] Gísli svona fer í sektum bíður,
Berti bað í brjósti svíður.

XLVI.
Eyjólf grá að Ótrardal í Arnarfirði
Hitti Börkur hugar stirði.

XLVII.
Skorar hann á gautinn gilda [göins] fitja
Leynt um Gísla líf að sitja.

XLVIII.
Hundruð silfurs bæði þrjú og þessu heitir
Eyjólfur þeim veiga veitir.

XLIX.
Húskarl var þar Helgi nefndur, hrekki hvatti,
Njósnar kenn og skygn sem stratti.

L.
Séð hann hafa segist mann með [svo] óglöðum
Heima opt á Auðarstöðum.

LI.
Eyjólfur bar arkar til með átta [slinna],
En þeir manninn ekki finna.

LII.
Burtu baðan leitar lúnar lýður speima,
En Gísli var þó geymdur heima.

LIII.
Allra manna sögn er sú, í sekt hann væri
Einna lengst á Ísa-Méri.

LIV.
Hann og Grettir hafa lengst á hauðri báðir
Lifað sökn og sektum þjáðir.

LV.
Gísli kenn og klókur var, að kifi hraður,
Djúphygginn og draumamaður.

LVI.
Þá um haustið þessu næst er það í efni,
Að hann [ferst] illa í svefni.

LVII.
[Grétis] þegar bóla baldur blundi létti,
Um hans drauma Auður frétti.

LVIII.
"Drauma konur," sagði sendir sunnu [lakja],
"Á eg tvær, sem að mér sæfja.

LIX.
Önnur til mín vitjar vert með vingan hverri;
Hin er öllu hötti verri.