Of how their stay was ended
I will speak no longer here;
Now I tell you further
of the rushing flight in the air,
That the child with the angry griffin
far away was bearing.
For this his friends and kinsmen
long in their hearts were heavy sorrow wearing.
Because the Lord so willed it
the child was not yet dead;
But, none the less, he later
a life of sadness led,
After the harsh old griffin
back to his nestlings bore him.
When on their prey they gloated,
hard toil enough the boy had now before him.
Soon as the bird that bore him
did on his nest alight,
He dropped the boy he carried,
and in his claws held tight;
One of the young ones caught him:
that he did not devour him
Thanks to God thereafter
were given, far and wide, for the watch kept o’er him.
Else the birds had slain him,
and with their claws had torn.
Now listen all with wonder,
and his bitter sorrow learn:
Hear how the king of Ireland
then from death was shielded;
Him a young bird now carried,
strongly clutched, and naught of his grip he yielded.
From tree to tree in the forest
he with the boy took flight;
The bird a little too boldly
trusted his strength and might.
Upon a branch he lighted,
but now to the ground must flutter,
For he was much too heavy;
in the nest to have longer staid had methinks been better.
The child, while the bird was falling,
broke from him away,
And hid among the bushes,
a little, lorn estray;
Well-nigh was he to starving,
’twas long since food he tasted.
Yet on a day long after
the hopes of women in Ireland on him rested.
God doth many a wonder,
truly one may say.
By the craft of the mighty griffin,
it came to pass one day,
Three daughters fair of princes
had been taken thither,
And now near by were dwelling.
No man can tell how there they lived together,
And how, thro’ days so many,
their lives to them were spared,
Were it not that God in heaven
for them in kindness cared.
Hagen now no longer
need live without a fellow;
Those good and lovely maidens
soon found the little waif in a rocky hollow.
When, crawling to his hiding,
they the child did see,
It might, so thought the maidens,
a dwarfish goblin be,
Or perhaps it was a water-oaf,
from out the sea up-driven;
But when the boy came near them,
at once a welcome kind to him was given.
Hagen was ware of the maidens,
as into their cave they stole,
While with fear and sadness
their little hearts were full,
Before they yet had knowledge
that they a Christian greeted.
But the care they later showed him
lifted the pain from many hearts o’erweighted.
First spake the eldest maiden:
“How darest thou in our cave,
Where from the God of heaven
we home and shelter have?
Go, seek again thy playmates,
the billowy waters under;
Enough ourselves we sorrow,
and on our bitter lot in sadness ponder.”
The high-born child then answered:
“I pray you let me stay;
I truly am a Christian,
you must not say me nay.
One of the griffins seized me,
and to the cave did carry;
I cannot live all lonely,
and here with you would I most gladly tarry.”
Then to the child so friendless
they loving welcome gave;
But they of his worth thereafter
did better knowledge have.
They now could ask him only,
whence he had been stolen;
But, such was then his hunger,
in telling his tale, his heart was full and swollen.
Then spake the little foundling:
“Food I sorely need;
Give to me, in kindness,
a little drink and bread.
’Tis long since I have had it,
and now three days I’m fasting,
The while the griffin bore me,
and full a hundred miles was hither hasting.”
Then answered one of the maidens:
“Our lot it so hath been,
That we our wonted cup-bearers
never here have seen;
Neither our lordly steward,
who should food to us be giving.”
Still they praised God’s goodness;
altho’ their years were few, they were wisely living.
A search they soon were making
for roots and herbage wild,
Wherewith they hoped to strengthen
Sigeband’s darling child.
Such food as they had lived on
they gave to him most freely;
To him ’twas a meal unwonted,
but such as they long time had eaten daily.
Yet he needs must eat it,
for hunger sore he hath,
And hard it is to any
to meet with bitter death.
Thro’ all the days so dreary,
while with the maidens dwelling,
To them his help most willing
he ever gave, his thankfulness thus telling.
They, too, had him in keeping,
that can I say for truth;
He there grew up in sadness,
throughout his early youth;
Until, one day, the children,
to make them greatly sorrow,
Before their cavern-dwelling
saw wonders rise, that threatened more to-morrow.
I know not from what border,
tossing o’er sea to land,
Came to those shores so rocky
a holy pilgrim band.
The ground-swell it was heavy,
and rocked the bark full sorely;
Thereat the banished maidens
felt their care and sorrow growing hourly.
Soon the ship was shattered;
not one his life could save.
Quickly the stern old griffins
came down beside the wave;
Seizing many drowned ones,
back to their nest they hurried.
Many a woman was mourning,
soon as the sorry tale to her was carried.
When to the hungry nestlings
the food they took in haste,
Back again the griffins
came from their offspring’s nest;
From what far spot I know not,
along the sea-paths flying.
Their young they left on the hillside,
with a neighbor grim, while they were hither hieing.
One day the goods of the sailors
Hagen saw near the sea,
For many had been drowned there;
holy men were they.
He thought, among the wreckage,
food might still lie hidden;
But, through fear of the wicked griffins,
he softly crept to the shore, by hunger bidden.
No one could he find there,
but a body in armor alone;
Thereby the wild old griffin
hard work would give him soon.
Out from his armor he shook him,
nor did he spurn to wear it:
He found a bow and weapons,
by its side, on the sandy shore, lying near it.
With these himself he girded,
that simple little child;
When in the air above him
he heard a rushing wild.
He wished that he had loitered,
the sorry little master;
But quickly came the griffin;
to the sheltering cavern fain would he flee the faster.
The bird swung down in anger
to the sandy beach and foam;
The little playmate and fellow
of the young it left at home,
Would by the angry griffin
have at once been swallowed;
But now the bold young Hagen
the ways of a daring foeman bravely followed.
He with strength but youthful
the tightened string drew out,
And arrows swift and many
from the well-bent bow he shot.
Alas! he did not hit him;
what hope of his ill-luck turning?
Then he of the sword bethought him;
he heard the maids bewailing him and mourning.
Though his years were not yet many,
he still was brave enough;
A wing from the angry griffin
he struck at the shoulder off,
And in the leg he smote him
a heavier blow and stronger;
So that his wounded body
the bird away from the spot could drag no longer.
The boy was now the winner;
one of his foes lay dead;
But quickly came another,
who sorrow for him made.
All at last were slaughtered;
nor old nor young were living;
God in heaven helped him;
but truly against such strength ’twere hopeless striving.
When he that feat of wonder
had done, with heart so brave,
He called the friendly maidens
from out their rocky cave.
He said: “Let air and sunshine
your sorry hearts be filling;
Since now the God in heaven
to grant to us some bliss at last is willing.”
His call they kindly welcomed,
and many times, forsooth,
The boy by the lovely maidens
was kissed upon the mouth.
Their keeper now lay lifeless;
and none there was to hinder
Their roaming o’er the hillsides,
and, far or near, at their goodwill to wander.
By help of the boy, from sorrow
they now were wholly free;
The little childish wanderer,
so skilled with the bow was he,
That birds his well-shot arrows
could never shun by flying.
He shot them now for pastime;
but to get them soon for food must he be trying.
He in heart was daring,
he was mild, but also brave;
Hey! from the wild beasts learning,
what nimble leaps he gave!
As doth the strong young panther,
over the rocks he scrambled;
Himself was his only teacher,
and, far away from kin, alone he rambled.
While on the shore, by the waters,
his time he often spent,
He saw, among the sea-waves,
live fishes, as he went;
To catch them it were easy,
but yet he did not get them,
For with fire his kitchen smoked not.
Daily his sorrow grew that he could not eat them.
Oft from his rocky shelter
to the forest he would roam;
Many wild beasts saw he,
strong and grim in their home.
One there was among them
greedy to devour him;
But with his sword he slew him,
and let him quickly feel the hate he bore him.
Unto a wild chameleon
this dreadful thing was like;
Its skin the boy drew from it,
(for that was he not too weak;)
Now for its blood he thirsted,
and, when of this he had taken,
He felt great strength come o’er him;
and many thoughts began in him to waken.
Then with the skin of the monster
he wrapped himself around;
When soon to him it happened
hard by a lion he found.
To shun him it were hopeless,
for he quickly rushed upon him;
But the boy was yet unwounded;
his foe from the daring child warm welcome won him.
When he the lion had smitten
to death, with many blows,
He to the cave would take it,
as homeward thence he goes.
At all times had the maidens
been by his care upholden,
But now this food unwonted
did raise their waning strength, and their hearts embolden.
Of fire they yet knew nothing,
but wood they need not seek;
From out a stone he quickly
many sparks did strike.
The food they long had wanted
he soon was on them bestowing,
And, since there was none to do it,
themselves the flesh must cook on the coals now glowing.
When they of food had eaten,
at once they grew more strong;
Their boldness, too, grew greater,
(to God their thanks belong.)
And now their bodies also
as healthy were, and comely,
As if they still were living,
each in her fatherland, on fare more homely.
The wild young Hagen also
the strength of twelve did own;
And for this, thro’ all his lifetime,
praise by him was won.
But both to him and the maidens
’twas pain and sorrow only,
To think that they forever
must pass their lives in a waste so sad and lonely.
They begged of him to lead them
down to the watery flood.
Shame they felt in going,
for the clothes were none too good
The maidens now were wearing;
they themselves had sewed them,
Ere yet the youthful Hagen
them in their banishment found, and his kindness showed them.
For days full four and twenty
they fared thro’ the piny wood;
At last, on a morning early,
down they came to the flood,
And saw a laden galley,
that came from Garadé.
Then did the lonely maidens
sorrow and pain at the sailors’ plight betray.
Hagen shouted loudly;
he was hindered none the more,
Altho’ the winds were boisterous,
and wild the waves did roar.
Now the ship was groaning;
and the sailors, landward steering,
Felt dread of water-nixes,
on seeing the maids, as they the shore were nearing.
The ship it had a master,
a lord from out Salmé;
Hagen, as well as his kindred,
had he known on a former day.
They before were neighbors,
but Ireland’s child, here roaming,
The youthful son of Sigeband,
was to the pilgrims unknown, who now were coming.
The earl forbade his steersman
nearer to sail to the shore;
But now the childish outcast
but begged of them the more,
For love of God, to take them
away from that shore forsaken.
The sailors felt emboldened,
when by the boy the name of Christ was taken.
The earl, with eleven others,
into a boat now sprung;
Ere he the truth was learning,
the time to him seemed long.
Whether the maidens as goblins
or mermaids must be treated
He knew not; such beings never,
in all his life before, his eyes had greeted.
He first began to ask them,
before he reached the strand:
“Boy, have you been baptized?
What do you in this land?”
Dight with fresh green mosses
he saw those lovely daughters,
Who earnestly begged the sailors
that they would deign to take them o’er the waters.