Darraðarljoð
Darraðarljoð is a skaldic poem preserved in Brennu-Njals saga. The name given the poem is derived from the repeated phrase “vefr darraðar,” which means “web of spears (or banners).” Though the saga connects the poem to the Battle of Clontarf in 1014, scholars such as Russell Poole have pointed out that there are some discrepancies between the poem and what is known of the battle and have suggested that the poem was originally tied to the Battle of Confey in 917. Nasstrom suggests that Dorruð’s looking through the window into the dyngja may parallel other instances of looking through special portals to have a supernatural vision, as in the slave girl’s vision in Ibn Fadlan’s funeral account. She also believes that the poem may have been intended as a battle hymn with the last stanza a signal to attack.
| Old Norse | DaSent translation |
| Föstudagsmorgun varð sá atburður á Katanesi að maður sá er Dörruður hét gekk út. Hann sá að menn riðu tólf saman til dyngju einnar og hurfu þar allir. Hann gekk til dyngjunnar. Hann sá inn í glugg einn er á var og sá að þar voru konur inni og höfðu færðan upp vef. Mannahöfuð voru fyrir kljána en þarmar úr mönnum fyrir viftu og garn, sverð var fyrir skeið en ör fyrir hræl. Þær kváðu vísur þessar: | On Good Friday that event happened in Caithness that a man whose name was Daurrud went out. He saw folk riding twelve together to a bower, and there they were all lost to his sight. He went to that bower and looked in through a window slit that was in it, and saw that there were women inside, and they had set up a loom. Men’s heads were the weights, but men’s entrails were the warp and weft, a sword was the shuttle, and the reels were arrows. They sang these songs: |
| Vítt er orpið fyrir valfalli rifs reiðiský, rignir blóði. Nú er fyrir geirum grár upp kominn vefr verþjóðar er þær vinur fylla rauðum vefti Randvés bana. |
See! warp is stretched For warriors’ fall, Lo! weft in loom ‘Tis wet with blood; Now fight foreboding, ‘Neath friends’ swift fingers, Our gray woof waxeth With war’s alarms, Our warp bloodred, Our weft corpseblue. |
| Sjá er orpinn vefr ýta þörmum og harðkléaðr höfðum manna. Eru dreyrrekin dörr að sköftum, járnvarðr yllir en örum hrælaðr. Skulum slá sverðum sigrvef þenna. |
This woof is woven With entrails of men, This warp is hardweighted With heads of the slain, Spears blood-besprinkled For spindles we use, Our loom ironbound, And arrows our reels; With swords for our shuttles This war-woof we work; |
| Gengr Hildr vefa og Hjörþrimul, Sanngríðr, Svipul sverðum tognum. Skaft mun gnesta, skjöldr mun bresta, mun hjálmgagar í hlíf koma. |
Now War-winner walketh To weave in her turn. Now Swordswinger steppeth, Now Swiftstroke, now Storm; When they speed the shuttle How spear-heads shall flash! Shields crash, and helmgnawer On harness bite hard! |
| Vindum, vindum vef darraðar, þann er ungr konungr átti fyrri. Fram skulum ganga og í fólk vaða þar er vinir vorir vopnum skipta. |
Wind we, wind swiftly Our warwinning woof. Woof erst for king youthful Foredoomed as his own, Forth now we will ride, Then through the ranks rushing Be busy where friends Blows blithe give and take. |
| Vindum, vindum vef darraðar og siklingi síðan fylgjum. Þar sjá bragna blóðgar randir Gunnr og Göndul er grami hlífðu. |
Wind we, wind swiftly Our warwinning woof, After that let us steadfastly Stand by the brave king; Then men shall mark mournful Their shields red with gore, How Swordstroke and Spearthrust Stood stout by the prince. |
| Vindum, vindum vef darraðar þar er vé vaða vígra manna. Látum eigi líf hans farast, eiga valkyrjur vals um kosti. |
Wind we, wind swiftly Our warwinning woof; When sword-bearing rovers To banners rush on, Mind, maidens, we spare not One life in the fray! We corpse-choosing sisters Have charge of the slain. |
| Þeir munu lýðir löndum ráða er útskaga áðr um byggðu. Kveð eg ríkum gram ráðinn dauða. Nú er fyrir oddum jarlmaðr hniginn. |
Now new-coming nations That island shall rule. Who on outlying headlands Abode ere the fight; I say that King mighty To death now is done, Now low before spearpoint That Earl bows his head. |
| Og munu Írar angr um bíða, það er aldrei mun ýtum fyrnast. Nú er vefr ofinn, en völlr roðinn, munu um lönd fara læspjöll gota. |
Soon over all Ersemen Sharp sorrow shall fall, That woe to those warriors Shall wane nevermore; Our woof now is woven. Now battle-field waste, O’er land and o’er water War tidings shall leap. |
| Nú er ógurlegt um að litast er dreyrug ský dregr með himni. Mun loft litað lýða blóði er sóknvarðar syngja kunnu. |
Now surely ’tis gruesome To gaze all around, When bloodred through heaven Drives cloudrack o’er head; Air soon shall be deep hued With dying men’s blood When this our spaedom Comes speedy to pass. |
| Vel kváðum vér um konung ungan sigrhljóða fjöld, syngjum heilar. En hinn nemi, er heyrir á geirfljóða hljóð, og gumum segi. |
So cheerily chant we Charms for the young king, Come maidens lift loudly His warwinning lay; Let him who now listens Learn well with his ears, And gladden brave swordsmen With bursts of war’s song. |
| Ríðum hestum hart út berum brugðnum sverðum á braut heðan. |
Now mount we our horses, Now bare we our brands, Now haste we hard, maidens, Hence far, far away. |
| Rifu þær þá ofan vefinn og í sundur og hafði hver það er hélt á. Gekk Dörruður nú í braut frá glugginum og heim en þær stigu á hesta sína og riðu sex í suður en aðrar sex í norður. | Then they plucked down the woof and tore it asunder, and each kept what she had hold of. Then Daurrud went away from the slit, and home; but they got on their steeds and rode six to the south, and the other six to the north. |
References:
Brennu-Njals saga. http://sagadb.org/brennu-njals_saga Accessed October 2012
Nasstrom, B. (2003) Freyja, the Great Goddess of the North.
Poole, R. (1991) Viking Poems on War and Peace: a Study in Skaldic Narrative.
The Story of Burnt Njal (1861) Translated by George DaSent.