Tale II: How Hagen Slew the Griffin

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.

Tho’ 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 good-will 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 father-land, 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.