English poem
With friendly love, Queen Hilda bade them all farewell
by Mary Pickering Nichols (1829–1915)
With friendly love, Queen Hilda bade them all farewell; With her, Gu-drun and Hildeburg went, with kind goodwill, Far beyond the castle, with all their maids-in-waiting. There took they leave of Hartmut, when he at last was on his way forth setting.
A guard Queen Hilda gave them across the land and sea; Great was the host that Herwic and Ortwin now set free, Whom, long held in bondage, they now were homeward sending; Full a thousand followers Hartmut brought to his land when the war was ending.
Everywhere the ladies one another kissed. Many now were sundered who long each other missed, And nevermore thereafter might again be meeting. The high-bred Ortwin and Herwic went with them to the boats that for them were waiting.
Irold must be their leader, while they did homeward fare. Then by the king ’twas bidden that he the word should bear To Horant, lord of Denmark, how they the land were leaving: Soon Irold to the warriors guidance and guard unto their homes was giving.
The time, or late or early, in truth I cannot tell, When they for their home in Kassian did at last set sail. The folk, now faring thither, were nought but gladness showing; After many sorrows, God on them was fullest bliss bestowing.
Irold said to Horant, when he reached the Norman land, That he by the king was bidden homeward to lead the band. “To leave to them their kingdom,” he answered, “it is fitting, They home have come so gladly; I, too, to see my land with pain am waiting.”
Then they welcomed Hartmut, and to him his land did leave; But how he swayed his kingdom I now no knowledge have. With all his friends, then Horant quickly homeward hasted, And left the land behind them; Denmark they reached, nor many days they wasted.
There we now will leave them, and only this will say: That never from a wedding homeward took their way Happier knights and kinsmen than now from there were going: Only the men of Karadie tarried still in the land, their gladness showing.
More by Mary Pickering Nichols
- Whene’er to him it happened weapons at court to see
- While on the shore, by the waters, his time he often spent
- While the weary warriors were resting and asleep
- Wisely then spake Wâ-te, the warrior old and good
- With these himself he girded, that simple little child
- Within seven years thereafter Hettel, in stormy fight
- Woe’s me!” said Lady Hilda, “what sorrows must we fear
- Wounded, too, was Irold, Ortland’s champion brave