In olden days in Ireland
a king to greatness came
Who bore the name of Sigeband;
Ger was his father’s name.
Queen U-te was his mother;
she of a king was daughter;
High was her worth and goodness,
and well her love beseemed the lord who sought her.
The sway of Ger was mighty,
as unto all is known;
He many lands and castles
and lordships seven did own:
Four thousand knights or over
he thence was often leading,
And wealth, and name yet greater,
he daily won, with those who did his bidding.
Now the youthful Sigeband
to his father’s court must go,
That he might there be learning
all he had need to know—
To bear the spear in riding,
to thrust it, and to shield him,
That when he met the foeman,
the better fame thereby the fight would yield him.
That age he now was reaching
when he the sword might bear;
Of all that a knight befitteth
he learned a goodly share.
This from kin and vassals
praise unmeasured brought him;
For this he still was striving,
and of the toil it cost he ne’er bethought him.
A few short days thereafter
death came among them all,
As even to men the greatest
sadly doth befall.
In every land and kingdom
the truth of this we’re meeting,
And we, with heavy sorrow,
such news ourselves must every day be waiting.
Sigeband’s mother, U-te,
the widow’s seat must take;
Her son, so high and worthy,
left all things for her sake.
No whit he cared for wedlock,
and had no heart for wooing;
Many a queenly lady
at this was sad, young Sigeband’s sorrow ruing.
A worthy wife to find him
his mother him besought;
So might he and his kingdom
to greater name be brought;
And he with all his kindred,
after their bitter sorrow
For the death of the king, his father,
might for themselves no little gladness borrow.
The teaching of his mother
he heard in kindly mood,
And began at once to follow,
as that of a friend one should.
The best of high-born maidens,
’mong those in Norway dwelling,
He bade his men to sue for:
to help in this he found his kinsmen willing.
She soon to him was wedded,
as hath of old been said.
With her, among her followers,
came many a lovely maid,
And, from over Scotland’s border,
seven hundred warriors fully;
They came with her right gladly,
when the worth of the king was known to them more truly.
Proudly their way they wended,
as beseemed the maiden’s birth;
With all the care they led her
befitting his kingly worth;
Hidden were the roadways
by gazers without number,
Who hasted to behold her;
for three miles and a half the throngs the ways did cumber.
Where’er along the roadside
the path with green was spread,
Flowers and grass were trampled,
by crowds, with heavy tread.
It fell upon that season
when the leaves are springing,
And in every copse and thicket
all the birds their best of songs are singing.
Of simple folk and merry
there rode with her enough;
While many loaded horses
bore much costly stuff,
Brought there from her birthland
by followers of the maiden;
They came with her by thousands,
with gold as well as clothing heavy-laden.
On the shore of two wide marches,
the dwellers by the sea,
As they saw the west wind waft her,
gave her welcome free;
They found a seemly lodging
for the lovely, well-born lady,
And brought her all things needful,
by the youthful king, before, for her made ready.
The fair young maid they welcomed
with knightly tournament;
Not soon their games they ended,
when on the spear-fight bent.
To the land of Ger his father
they bore her to be wedded;
She there was loved and mighty,
and men to sound her name she never needed.
All, as they were able,
waited on the maid;
The gaudy cloth for her saddle
down to the grass was spread;
The horses’ hoofs were hidden
by the housing, heavy drooping.
Aha! In mood how gleeful
was Ireland’s lord, once more a blessing hoping!
When now the time was fitting
that he the maid should kiss,
All crowded thick about him,
in haste to see their bliss.
The bosses of their bucklers
were now heard loudly clashing,
Struck with blows together;
each strove to shun the throngs, in uproar crashing.
Now with the dawn of morning,
they sent out, far and wide,
To give to all the tidings
of the coming of the bride,
And that, with their master,
they erelong would crown her.
His queen she was thereafter,
and well she earned from him the honor shown her.
It was not deemed becoming
that he his love should plight,
Since she by birth was queenly,
and he not yet a knight:
He first, before his lieges,
must the crown be wearing;
To this his kinsmen helped him,
and later of his worth were all men hearing.
He, with knights five hundred,
then was dubbed with the sword;
Whatever they could wish for
was given them at his word—
Both shields, and, for their wearing,
every kind of clothing.
The youthful king so dauntless,
thro’ life, of fame and honor wanted nothing.
For many a day thereafter
his sway did Ireland bless,
And never did his greatness
at any time grow less.
To all he freely listened;
the poor man’s wrongs he righted;
Widely known was his goodness;
no truer knight than he his word e’er plighted.
His boundless acres yielded
a full and ready gain;
His wife was known for wisdom,
and worthy to be his queen.
To hold her as their mistress
full thirty lords it booted;
As long as the sway she wielded,
her hand to each his lands and home allotted.
She bore unto her husband,
within the next three years,
A child to see most comely;
(such is the tale one hears.)
When later he was christened,
and they were told to name him,
They gave the name of Hagen;
and never since, the tale of his life doth shame him.
He had most careful breeding,
and kindly was he nursed;
Should he be like his fathers,
he would of knights be first.
Watched over by wise women,
and by maidens of early age,
His father and fond mother
found in his face their glad eyes’ pasturage.
When now the boy, well fostered,
to his seventh year was bred,
’Twas seen that he by warriors
by the hand was often led.
He was happy in men’s teaching,
but was with women wearied;
All this he knew no longer;
for, torn from them, he far away was carried.
Whene’er to him it happened
weapons at court to see,
He understood them readily,
and their wearer longed to be;
The helmet and ringed armor
would he have put on gladly:
Alas! not long he saw them,
and all his hopes of fighting ended sadly.
While the kingly Sigeband,
beneath a cedar-tree,
One day on the turf was seated,
the queen said earnestly:
“Although good name and riches
we share with one another,
At one thing yet I wonder,
and this from you I dare to hide no further.”
He asked of her: “What is it?”
Then said his helpmeet kind:
“It me doth sorely worry
in body and in mind,
And my heart, alas! is heavy;
to my wish you give no heeding,
To see you ’midst your vassals,
my beaming eyes with pride upon you feeding.”
The king to her thus answered:
“How should it ever be
That you have had such longing
me with my knights to see?
I will strive thy will to follow,
of this think not so sadly;
Ever to meet thy wishes,
both care and toil will I give myself most gladly.”
She said: “No man is living
who owns such wealth, I trow,
Who has so many castles
or lands so wide as thou,
With silver and gems so costly,
and gold so heavy weighing;
For this are our ways too lowly,
and nought there is in life to me worth saying.
“When erst I was a maiden,
and on Scotland’s soil drew breath,
(Chide not, my lord, thy helpmeet,
but list to what she saith,)
I there was daily seeing
the liegemen of my father
For highest prizes striving;
but here such games we never see together.
“A king so rich and mighty,
as you in name have been,
Before his followers often
should let himself be seen;
He oft should ride in tilting
with other champions knightly,
That both himself and his kingdom
should seem more fair, and hold their rank more fitly.
“It shows, in a lord so noble,
a most unworthy mind,
When he has heaped together
riches of every kind,
If he with his faithful warriors
to share them is unwilling:
When men in the storm of warfare
deep wounds have had, how else can they find healing?”
Then said to her King Sigeband:
“Lady, you mock at me;
In all these warlike pastimes
I will most earnest be;
And for the strife so worthy
my wish shall never waver:
No man shall find it easy
the ways of well-born kings to teach me ever.”
She said: “You now for warriors
must send throughout the land;
Stores of wealth and clothing
must be given with open hand.
I too will send out heralds
my kinsmen all to rally,
And to show them my good wishes;
we then shall find our life to pass more gaily.”
At this the king of Ireland
unto his wife thus said:
“I yield to you most willingly,
for men are often led
By the wishes of fair women
great feastings to make ready;
I therefore now will gather
my brave and hardy kinsmen, and those too of my lady.”
To him the queen then answered:
“Sorrow no more I wear;
Five hundred women’s garments
I will give, to each her share;
To four and sixty maidens
gay clothes to give I’m willing.”
Then the king did tell her
high times he soon would hold, his word fulfilling.
The sports were then bespoken:
he bade his men to send,
In eighteen days or sooner,
to liegeman and to friend,
To say to all in Ireland,
who would in his games be riding,
That, after summer was ended,
they should spend the winter, with him abiding.
He bade his men make benches,
so our tale doth run,
And for these, from out the wilderness,
timber must be drawn;
For sixty thousand warriors
seats must they make ready.
His henchmen and deft stewards,
to do this work for the king, were skilled and speedy.
Thither men then hastened
on many a winding way;
All were kindly cared for
throughout their lengthened stay.
Now from Ireland’s kingdom,
as the king had bidden,
Full six and eighty thousand
of warriors strong there to his court had ridden.
From the store-rooms of the castle
clothing now was borne—
All the gear they wished for,
and all that could be worn.
Shields were also given,
and steeds of Irish breeding;
The proud and queenly lady
bedecked her guests with all they could be needing.
She gave to a thousand women
costly clothes enow,
And likewise to fair maidens
what one to youth should allow—
Broidered bands and jewels,
and silk that glistened brightly;
The many lovely ladies,
together standing there, were fair and sightly.
To every one who wished it
were given clothes well-made.
Horses were there seen prancing,
by the hand of foot-boys led;
These light shields did carry,
and their spears were seizing.
U-te, the queenly mother,
was gladly seen, as she on the leads sat gazing.
The guests by the king were bidden
freely in tilts to meet;
The glitter of their helmets
grew dim in the dust and heat.
The ladies, held in honor,
near by were also seated,
Where they the deeds of the warriors
saw full well, and with words of wonder greeted.
As oft before has happened,
the show had lasted long;
The king was not unwilling
to be looked on by the throng.
This, meanwhile, to his lady
happiness was giving,
As she, amidst her women,
sat on the roof, and saw their earnest striving.
When now her lord had ridden,
as doth beseem a king,
He thought to end their onsets;
some rest to them to bring
He deemed not unbecoming;
to stop the games he bade them.
And then before the ladies,
after their skill thus shown, he proudly led them.
U-te, the high-born lady,
began her friends to greet,
With those from far-off kingdoms;
them as guests to meet
The queen was truly willing;
on them her glad eyes rested.
The gifts of Lady U-te
were not on scornful friends that evening wasted.
Knights and lovely ladies
together there were seen.
The goodwill of the master
to all well-known had been;
In all their games and tilting,
his kindness was not hidden.
Once more the guests, that evening,
to ride in warlike strife by him were bidden.
Their games and sports had lasted
until nine days were gone;
They, as knights befitteth,
their skill to the king had shown.
By the many wandering players
the show was liked the better,
And they plied their work more briskly,
and hoped that their reward would be the greater.
Sackbuts loud and trumpets
there might all men hear;
Fluting too and harping
fell upon the ear.
Some on the rote were playing,
others in song were vying;
They, by their jigs and fifing,
soon would better clothes for themselves be buying.
On the tenth morn it happened,
(now hark to my sorry tale,)
That, after all their pastimes,
there rose a bitter wail.
About these days so merry
new tales were told on the morrow;
And though they now were mirthful,
they came to know deep gloom and heavy sorrow.
When the guests were seated
beside their kingly host,
There came to them a player,
and proudly made his boast
That he, before all others,
(who should indeed believe him?)
Was far more skilled in playing,
and even the greatest lords their ear must give him.
Outside, a lovely maiden
was leading by the hand
The little son of Sigeband
who swayed the Irish land;
With him were likewise women
who to the boy gave heeding,
And friendly kinsmen also,
who carefully taught the child, and oversaw his breeding.
Within the great king’s palace
was heard a din and shout;
All were there heard laughing,
the roomy walls throughout.
The guardians of young Hagen
crowded up too nearly,
And thus lost sight of the maiden,
together with the child they loved so dearly.
The evil luck of their master
to him that day drew near,
And brought to him and U-te
sudden woe and fear.
Sent by the wicked devil,
from afar his herald hasted
To them in their happy kingdom;
they were by this with sorrow sorely wasted.
It was a strong, wild griffin
had quickly thither flown;
From the little boy of Sigeband,
who ever care had known,
Came ill luck to his father,
who soon of this was tasting.
His son, so well-belovèd,
to him was lost, with the mighty bird far hasting.
A shadow now came o’er them,
from wings that bore him fleet,
As if a cloud had risen;
great strength had the bird, I weet.
The guests, in pastime busy,
no thought to this had given,
And the maid, with the child she was leading,
was standing now alone, unheeded even.
Beneath the weight of the griffin
forest trees broke down;
And now the trusty maiden
looked where the bird had flown;
Then she herself sought shelter,
and left the child forsaken.
Hearing a tale so startling,
one truly might the whole for a wonder reckon.
The griffin soon alighted,
and in his claws he held
The little child, gripped tightly,
while with fear it quailed.
His ghastly mood and anger
the bird was harshly showing;
This must knights and kinsmen
long bewail, with sorrow ever growing.
The boy was sorely frightened,
and began aloud to shriek;
Higher the mighty griffin
flew, with outstretched beak;
To the clouds above them floating
he his prey was bearing.
Sigeband, lord of Ireland,
loudly wept, his outcries never sparing.
His friends and all his kinsmen
the sorry tale soon heard;
They, in the death of his offspring,
his bitter sorrow shared.
Downcast were he and his lady,
and all their loss felt nearly;
Sorely they wept together,
mourning the boy, now torn from them so early.
In this their mood so gloomy,
the happy, merry plays
Must now be sadly ended.
Before their frightened gaze,
The griffin so had robbed them
that all for home now started,
Sober, and filled with sadness.
They truly felt forlorn, and heavy-hearted.
The king was bitterly weeping,
his breast with tears was wet;
The high-born queen besought him
his sorrows to forget,
Thus wisely to him speaking:
“Should all in death be stricken,
There must be an end of all things;
it is the will of God their lives hath taken.”
Now all would hence be faring,
but the queen to them did say:
“I beg you, knights and warriors,
longer with us to stay;
Our gifts of gold and silver,
that here for you are ready,
You should not think of meanly;
our love for you is ever true and steady.”
The knights to her bowed lowly,
and then began they all
To say how they were thankful.
The king, thereon, did call
For silken stuffs, the richest,
for all who there yet tarried;
They had ne’er been cut nor opened;
and from far-off lands had erst to the king been carried.
He gave them also horses,
both palfreys and war-steeds;
The horses out of Ireland
were tall and of hardy breeds.
Red gold was likewise given,
and silver without weighing;
The king with care had bidden
outfit good for his guests, no longer staying.
Soon as the queen was willing,
each her leave now takes,
Both lovely maids and women;
each one herself bedecks
With gifts that made her fairer;
all new clothes are wearing.
The high times now are ended;
Sigeband’s land they leave, and are homeward faring.