The voice of the Queen Hildeburh was heard within the hall:
""Twas a great oath, my brethren, that ye did give and take.
Keep it for Denmark's honor and keep it for my sake.
As yet no man has known you to be untrustful lords.
Will ye make my very bride-feast a holiday of swords?
God turn from them my brethren their word who keep not true.
May he turn from Finn my husband if he break faith with you.
Shall a minstrel and a braggart do the great kings a scathe?
So be merry at my marriage and turn away from wrath.
As for Snaebiorn the minstrel, he shall sing a better song.
Let us forget in laughter the insult and the wrong.
And as proof of my forgiveness to Friesland he shall ride
To sing the songs of Denmark at all times by my side.
The lips that were unlucky to the Danes shall speak no more.
'Mid the damsels of the Frisians he shall dream no dreams of war."
They healed the strife for a season because of a girl's laugh.
But hard was the heart of Hengist and hard was the heart of Hnaef.
To Finn they gave the stronghold, yet they forgave him not.
And the issue of the word-war none of the kings forgot.
Hnaef showed not any counsel and no man knew his mind.
He undertook no venture but another hid behind.
When the hunt was given over then did he take the game.
Where a better man had yielded in the fight he overcame.
He was a pitfall for nations that were come unto their time,
But his dark brother Hengist was a crag for them to climb.
Never was foaled the stallion that Hengist dared not tame.
Hnaef was unto his brother as the smoke unto the flame.
His soul knew never a master. His will would brook no check.
On the reefs of his desire the strong ships went to wreck.
To him of little moment alike were might and right.
In Hell would he take his pleasure in all the devils' despite.
Such a twain were the brethren and to balk them aye was ill,
For the one wrought for the other the utmost of his will.
Yet pondered Hnaef: "This anger, in the morning it will pass. Hers is a gallant husband, and I wish no ill to the lass."'
But the heart of Hengist was subtle. And black and bent were his brows,
As he watched the bride and bridegroom depart from his brother's house.
Loud bayed the hounds about them. Echoed the Frisian horn.
And Hengist thought of the bride-feast, how his sister brought him
The fury burned in his spirit till his very lips did parch
As he thought how they had yielded the stronghold on the March.
He plowed the fields of anger to reap the crops of wrath.
It was a mighty harvest that grew great about his path.
Within him strove his spirit, as it were a serpent of flame.
And Hengist could not o'ercome it and Hengist it overcame.
So strange a thing is anger, on earth is naught so strange.
With love he is begetter of all the sons of change.
Under the skies unaltering the thunder of his wings
Troubles the inmost currents in the dread tide of things.
So the whole world together moves onward like a flood.
Unto the same destruction rush the evil and the good.
Down comes the mountain-torrent, the grinding boulders growl.
Afar the white foam flashes. The streams run swift and foul.
Down the sheer banks come crashing where the new courses haste.
The angels of disaster make merry in the waste.
Never yet came a plowman where the strong cataract ran.
In the violated cornfield reapeth no husbandman.
But all the herbs most harmful, the tetter and the tare,
The devilswort and fiendspurge, find savage flowering there.
And underneath their shadow the children of the stone,
The lizard and the rock-snake, find sustenance alone.
By parable and likeness, men seek the truth to tell.
Even as a field was Hengist where such a storm befell.
He rode out to the hunting; his mood it might not mend.
Aye to the Frisian marches with his comrades would he wend.
He pitched his broad encampment on a hill o'erlooking all.
Afar off toward the sunset arose the hold and the hall
Of the fortress of the dower. He looked thereon each day.
A month in the encampment to nurse his wrath he lay.
One day he tracked a roebuck. An alder-clump within
Like a blind man he stumbled on Snaebiorn and Finn.
The same buck they hunted. It was not Hengist's day.
King Finn with a broad arrow has smitten down the prey.
Quoth Finn: "Take you the roebuck. I hunt but to make game."
But Hengist would not take it for anger and for shame.
For he thought: "Aye he runneth my purposes athwart.
As he took from me my birthright, will he take from me my sport? His goings and his comings even as a snare are set
About me in all places to take me in the net.''
And Snaebiorn looking on them saw the flame was well alight And that death alone might alter their anger and despite.
No more King Hengist hunted, but he sate all day in the gate And men called the lost fortress the castle of Hengist's hate. Autumn gave way to Winter. Winter to Spring gave way
And Hengist lay in his chamber at the ending of the day.
And he dreamed men sate about him with their alehorns at the
And Guthlaf and Oslaf his servants stood up with a broken sword. Said they: "Look once on the sword blade and your heart shall be glad within.”’
And he looked and his heart was lightened, for it was the sword of
From his dream awoke King Hengist. Swift he leaped from the
Forth unto Hnaef his brother with the tale thereof he sped.
For keen was the King's counsel. He knew the wheat and the chaff, And a strong sword in battle was the judgment of King Hnaef. Said Hengist:
"Yon Dane, our brother, hath stolen our strength away.
He won it over lightly without a stroke in the fray,
And I cannot heal my spirit until it be restored.
Last night I dreamed in my chamber and I dreamed of a broken sword;
And I looked upon the sword blade, and it was the sword of Finn. The storms of his destruction are lowering to begin.
I care not if he perish. If he give us the fortress back,
For the sake of the Queen our sister, he may scape this once from
If he will not we will slay him though the devil stand his aid.
How he shall stand against us and the sign of the broken blade?"
Hnaef answered unto Hengist:
"Put up your sword to rust.
Our friend and our sister's husband, we have him in double trust.
Ours is the greater army, and ours is triple the might.
But God and not the devil will stand his aid in the fight.
And ill-luck is their rearward and misfortune rides before
The marshals and the captains that make unrighteous war."'
And Hengist stifled his anger, and his secret heart did hide
And wearily he waited to see what might betide.
Now Snaebiorn dwelt in Friesland in service on the Queen.
Grey enow were his shoulders but yet his head was green.
With every man he bickered. And he quarreled and made game
In the hall-feasts of the Frisians of all the Frisian name.
They recked not of his flyting, but all laughed in his face.
They called him a good japer. They mocked him in disgrace.
For all his hosts of insult their anger would not rise.
The wrath of his displeasure was grateful to their eyes.
In the midst of the next winter, at the feast of the young year, To Finnsburgh all the Frisians thronged in from far and near. When all had eaten and drunken, Unferth the marshal said: "Send for the minstrel Snaebiorn. Give us the featherhead.'' King Finn was fain of the japing. He gave them their behest. Came Snaebiorn the minstrel to jape for them and jest. Now a proud man was Snaebiorn like all that sing the song. And all his heart was bitter at their excelling wrong.
He swept the harpstrings backward. Forward he swept them again.
In fury and in anger he lifted up the strain:
"Low is the helm of Denmark, and Friesland's head goes high.
In the country of the weaklings a banished man am I.
Much I endure in exile and suffer grievous things,
Here they dishonor men.
but the vermin in the fen.
Far from the gracious presence of the givers of the rings.
In Denmark men have honor.
The stag dwells in the upland,
Oh for the days passed over! Then among Kings I dwelled,
In a land where a Maker in good esteem was held.
But one thing is most grievous. That I cannot forget.
A Danish Queen is Hildeburh and she is childless yet.
Hengist was a great stallion, Hnaef of a noble stud,
And Hildeburh the lovely is a sister of that blood.
Woe for the Danish madness, folly beyond compare.
'Tis long enow to the foaling for the gelding and the mare."
This time the Frisians laughed not. Little enough they said.
But they fell on him and beat him till his very soul was red.
With the stave and with the ox-goad, with the buckle and the thong,
They gave payment beyond measure to the singer of the song.
The shrieking and the cursing, the clamor and the din,
Roared upward like a battle in the great hall of Finn.
Blacker than heights of thunder the King stood in the crowd,
Then to the Marshal Unferth fiercely he cried aloud:
"Call them off swiftly, Marshal, or the fellow will be slain.
He is here as my house-guest, thereof I am not fain.
But though great shame he speaketh the knave they shall not slay."
Thereat the Frisian guardsman plunged into the affray.
Battered and blind and gory, they lifted Snaebiorn up.
And Finn himself thereafter gave him liquor from the cup.
When the broken man had drunken anew to him said he: "Get hence again to Denmark, where they will honor thee. Ill luck where 'er thou comest thy lot it is to bring.
I will not do his justice for my brother Huaef the King."
Ever at dawn of Springtime King Hnaef in judgment sate
To try his peoples' causes, the little and the great,
And to gather in his taxes. And there all Denmark came.
And the King spake to his nobles, naming them all by name.
"Now welcome, gallant Sigeferth. Good Eawa, hail to thee.
A fair sight are the heroes who bear thee company.
And you, too, Oslaf and Guthlaf, my brother Hengist's men,
In fair-time ever gladly I see you here again.
Sit ye all down at table and drain the southern wine.
Then help me count the tribute, the cattle and the swine."
So went the talk and the bustle and men came out and in.
There was laughter and rejoicing, greeting of kith and kin.
Men gossiped by the high-seat; in the courts the cattle lowed.
Ne'er was a merrier hour within King Hnaef's abode.
Till the voices of a sudden were silent in the street,
And a warder hastened swiftly to Hnaef on the royal seat.
Unto his king for justice, blind and bloody and lame,
Hobbling and gabbling wildly, Snaebiorn the minstrel came.
And he cried to all his story in his anger and his pain.
"Lo, King, see what in Friesland men do unto a Dane."
Hnaef was as wroth as Hengist on the high-seat where he sate. But he changed no whit his visage. He altered not his state. With a hard look and a heavy, bent brow and bitter eye, He sate there to do justice and he harkened Snaebiorn's cry. "Tomorrow I march southward to Friesland by the sea. Tonight let all the hammers clang in the armoury.
I go not for my pastime. I seek not peace or war,
But they have had their pleasure and they shall pay therefor.
I will show Finn our brother that there is naught to gain
But the stroke of many sword blades from insult to the Dane.
For the jape they played on Snaebiorn for the pure mirth of an hour They shall e'en pay back to Denmark the castle of the dower."
In the hall stood a Frisian all of the tale that heard.
He halted not, he stayed not. He wheeled at the word.
Ere the ruck of men beheld him that there about did wait,
He had leaped on a stallion that was tethered by the gate.
A Dane sprang at the bridle, but he rode down that Dane.
On the neck he leaned forward and out he shook the rein.
With the flat of his sword-blade he smote the stallion's flank.
Into the horse's barrel the bloody rowels sank.
A bowman rose behind and twice he loosed the shaft.
The Frisian as he galloped shouted back at them and laughed.
That was not well. He laughed not thereafter soon again.
For the third arrow smote him, and he screamed with the pain.
He swayed in the saddle, but he fled from their sight.
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