Red shields we did, Doughty knights of the Huns, Hosts spear-dight, hosts helm-dight, All a high king's fellows; And the ships of Sigmund From the land swift sailing; Heads gilt over And prows fair graven. On the cloth we broidered That tide of their battling, Siggeir and Siggar, South in Fion. Then heard Grimhild, The Queen of Gothland, How I was abiding, Weighed down with woe; And she thrust the cloth from her And called to her sons, And oft and eagerly Asked them thereof, Who for her son Would their sister atone, Who for her lord slain Would lay down weregild. Fain was Gunnar Gold to lay down All wrongs to atone for, And Hogni in likewise; Then she asked who was fain Of faring straightly, The steed to saddle To set forth the wain, The horse to back, And the hawk to fly, To shoot forth the arrow From out the yew-bow. Valdarr the Dane-king Came with Jarisleif Eymod the third went Then went Jarizskar; In kingly wise In they wended, The host of the Longbeards; Red cloaks had they, Byrnies short-cut, Helms strong hammered, Girt with glaives, And hair red-gleaming. Each would give me Gifts desired, Gifts desired, Speech dear to my heart, If they might yet, Despite my sorrow, Win back my trust, But in them nought I trusted. Then brought me Grimhild A beaker to drink of, Cold and bitter, Wrong's memory to quench; Made great was that drink With the might of the earth, With the death-cold sea And the blood that Son (2) holdeth. On that horn's face were there All the kin of letters Cut aright and reddened, How should I rede them rightly? The ling-fish long Of the land of Hadding, Wheat-ears unshorn, And wild things' inwards. In that mead were mingled Many ills together, Blood of all the wood, And brown-burnt acorns; The black dew of the hearth, (3) And god-doomed dead beasts' inwards And the swine's liver sodden, For wrongs late done that deadens. Then waned my memory When that was within me, Of my lord 'mid the hall By the iron laid low. Three kings came Before my knees Ere she herself Fell to speech with me. "I will give to thee, Gudrun, Gold to be glad with, All the great wealth Of thy father gone from us, Rings of red gold And the great hall of Lodver, And all fair hangings left By the king late fallen. "Maids of the Huns Woven pictures to make, And work fair in gold Till thou deem'st thyself glad. Alone shalt thou rule O'er the riches of Budli, Shalt be made great with gold, And be given to Atli."