They could not find the bottom, altho’ they should be casting
Lengths of rope a thousand; many sailors wept, their lot foretasting.
Before the mount at Givers soon lay Queen Hilda’s host;
However good their anchors, upon that gloomy coast,
Drawn by loadstones thither, they a long time rested.
Their masts so tough and hardy soon before their eyes were bent and twisted.
When now the hopeless sailors were weeping o’er their lot,
Thus spoke the aged Wâ-te: “Anchors again throw out,
The strongest and the heaviest, into the sea unsounded.
I’ve heard of many wonders I would rather see, than here on the rocks be grounded.
“Since, astray long sailing, our lady’s ships here lie,
And we so far are driven across the darkling sea,
I now will tell a sea-tale, that stirred my childish wonder,
Of how, near the mount at Givers, a kingdom erst was built by a mighty founder.
“Men there in wealth are living; so rich is all their land
That under the flowing rivers silver is the sand;
With this they make their castles, and the stones are golden
With which their walls are builded. In all the kingdom none in want are holden.
“ ’Twas told to me, moreover, (by God are wonders wrought,)
If one who by the loadstone unto this mount is brought,
Here will only tarry till the wind from the land is blowing,
He with all his kindred may be forever rich when homeward going.
“Let us our food be eating until our luck shall turn,”
Said then the aged Wâ-te; “before we hence are borne,
Our ships that here are lying shall with ore be loaded:
When this we home shall carry, wealth shall we have that no one e’er foreboded.”
Then spake the Danish Fru-te: “A still, unruffled sea
Shall never keep in idleness the men now here with me:
A thousand times I swear to you, no gold would I be seeking,
But rather away from this mountain, with friendly winds, would I my way be taking.”
The Christian men among them raised to Heaven a prayer;
But yet the ships ne’er yielded, strongly fastened there:
For four long days or over all their hopes were thwarted;
Sorely feared the Hegelings that they from thence could nevermore be started.
The clouds now lifted higher, as the mighty God had willed;
Then no more they sorrowed, for soon the waves were stilled,
And from out the darkness the sun was shining brightly.
A wind from the west was blowing, and now the woes were o’er of the wanderers knightly.
For miles full six and twenty, past Givers’ craggy shore,
The ships at last were wafted. By this they saw yet more
The work of God and his goodness, in all the help then given.
Wâ-te with his followers had been too near the rocks of loadstone driven.
To smoothly flowing waters they now were come at last:
Their sins were not rewarded, and all their woes were past,
While fear from them was taken, since God was not unwilling.
The ships that bore the warriors straight to the Norman land at length were sailing.
But soon among the sailors arose again a wail;
For now the ships were groaning, and soon began to reel,
Tossed among the breakers that overwhelmed them nearly:
Then said the brave knight Ortwin: “We now indeed must buy our honors dearly.”
Outspake then one of the sailors: “Alas! and well-a-day!
I would we were at Givers, and dead near its mountain lay!
If one is by God forgotten, by whom is he befriended?
My brave and hardy warriors, the roar of the blustering sea is not yet ended.”
Then cried the knight, Sir Horant, he of the Danish land:
“Be of good heart, brave fellows; I well can understand
This wind no harm will do us; from out the west ’tis blowing.”
This cheered the lord of Karadie, on him and on his men fresh hope bestowing.
Horant, the daring warrior, up to the topmast climbed,
And the widely stretching billows swept, with eyes undimmed,
Keeping for land an outlook. They soon his call were hearing:
“Wait you now, unfearing; I see that we the Norman land are nearing!”
The word to all was given, that they should lower sail:
Searching the waters over, they saw far off a hill,
Lofty, and thickly wooded, with groves and leafage shaded;
Then old Wâ-te bade them thither to bend their way, and this they heeded.
Tale XXIII
How Hilda’s Warriors Landed in Sight of Hartmut’s Kingdom
Herwic and Ortwin, the brother of Gudrun, agree to go forward in advance to procure intelligence in regard to her and her maidens.
Before the hill they landed, in sight of the leafy grove;
Wary to be, and daring, them did it now behoove.
First they dropped their anchors, deep the waters under;
In a lonely spot were they hidden, where none could see, nor at their coming wonder.
Then from the ships, to rest them, they stepped upon the beach.
Hey! what they had longed for was now within their reach!
A stream of pure, cold water, through the fir-trees flowing,
Ran down the wooded hillside, upon the wave-worn knights new life bestowing.
While the weary warriors were resting and asleep,
Irold soon had clambered, there his watch to keep,
Into a tree high-branching. He then began to ponder
Which way they should be taking; and, lo! the Norman land he saw with wonder.
“Now, my youths, be merry!” thus cried the youthful knight.
“My cares indeed are lightened, for now I have in sight
Seven lofty palaces, with roomy halls wide-spreading;
Before to-morrow’s midday, the land of Normandy shall we be treading.”
Then said the wise old Wâ-te: “Up to the sands now bear
All your shields and weapons, whate’er in fight you wear.
Let every one be busy, and let the youths be hastened;
At once lead out the horses; helmets and breastplates must with straps be fastened.
“And now, if any outfits are not good to wear,
Nor meet for you in fighting, to that I’ll give my care.
The queen, my lady Hilda, has sent with us already
Full five hundred breastplates; these will we give to any who are needy.”
Quickly were the horses forth on the sea-beach led;
And all the showy horse-cloths, that should on them be spread,
Were by the men unfolded, and laid on steeds in waiting,
To see which best beseemed them; and each then took the one he deemed most fitting.
In leaping, and in galloping up and down the shore,
They rode, and watched the horses; many, strong before,
Now were dull and sluggish, nor longer quick at running;
Too long had they been standing, and Wâ-te had them killed, as not worth owning.
Fires by the men were lighted; and good and hearty food,
The best that could be met with so near the shore and flood,
By the tired and hungry wanderers soon was cooked and eaten.
They had not hoped beforehand that rest like this their toilsome life would sweeten.
Throughout the night they rested, till dawn of the coming
