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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/13486-0.txt b/13486-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3ba44bf --- /dev/null +++ b/13486-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5310 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13486 *** + +THE STORY OF SIGURD THE VOLSUNG + +Written In Verse By + +WILLIAM MORRIS + +With Portions Condensed Into Prose by Winifred Turner, B.A. +Late Assistant Mistress, Ware Grammar School For Girls +And +Helen Scott, M.A. + +1922 + + + + + + + +BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION + +By J. W. Mackail + + +William Morris, one of the most eminent imaginative writers of the +Victorian age, differs from most other poets and men of letters in +two ways--first, he did great work in many other things as well as in +literature; secondly, he had beliefs of his own about the meaning and +conduct of life, about all that men think and do and make, very +different from those of ordinary people, and he carried out these +views in his writings as well as in all the other work he did +throughout his life. + +He was born in 1834. His father, a member of a business firm in the +City of London, was a wealthy man and lived in Essex, in a country +house with large gardens and fields belonging to it, on the edge of +Epping Forest. Until the age of thirteen Morris was at home among a +large family of brothers and sisters. He delighted in the country +life and especially in the Forest, which is one of the most romantic +parts of England, and which he made the scene of many real and +imaginary adventures. From fourteen to eighteen he was at school at +Marlborough among the Wiltshire downs, in a country full of beauty and +history, and close to another of the ancient forests of England, that +of Savernake. He proceeded from school to Exeter College, Oxford, +where he soon formed a close friendship with a remarkable set of young +men of his own age; chief among these, and Morris's closest friend for +the rest of his life, was Edward Burne-Jones, the painter. Study of +the works of John Ruskin confirmed them in the admiration which they +already felt for the life and art of the Middle Ages. In the summer +vacation of 1855 the two friends went to Northern France to see the +beautiful towns and splendid churches with which that country had been +filled between the eleventh and the fifteenth centuries; and there +they made up their minds that they cared for art more than for +anything else, such as wealth or ease or the opinion of the world, +and that as soon as they left Oxford they would become artists. +By art they meant the making of beauty for the adornment and +enrichment of human life, and as artists they meant to strive against +all that was ugly or mean or untruthful in the life of their own time. + +Art, as they understood it, is one single thing covering the whole +of life but practised in many special forms that differ one from +another. Among these many forms of art there are two of principal +importance. One of the two is the art which is concerned with the +making and adorning of the houses in which men and women live; that is +to say, architecture, with all its attendant arts of decoration, +including sculpture, painting, the designing and ornamenting of +metal, wood and glass, carpets, paper-hangings, woven, dyed and +embroidered cloths of all kinds, and all the furniture which a house +may have for use or pleasure. The other is the art which is concerned +with the making and adorning of stories in prose and verse. Both of +these kinds of art were practised by Morris throughout his life. The +former was his principal occupation; he made his living by it, and +built up in it a business which alone made him famous, and which has +had a great influence towards bringing more beauty into daily domestic +life in England and in other countries also. His profession was thus +that of a manufacturer, designer, and decorator. When he had to +describe himself by a single word, he called himself a designer. But +it is the latter branch of his art which principally concerns us now, +the art of a maker and adorner of stories. He became famous in this +kind of art also, both in prose and verse, as a romance-writer and a +poet. But he spoke of it as play rather than work, and although he +spent much time and great pains on it, he regarded it as relaxation +from the harder and more constant work of his life, which was carrying +on the business of designing, painting, weaving, dyeing, printing and +other occupations of that kind. In later life he also gave much of his +time to political and social work, with the object of bringing back +mankind into a path from which they had strayed since the end of the +Middle Ages, and creating a state of society in which art, by the +people and for the people, a joy to the maker and the user, might be +naturally, easily, and universally produced. + +Even as a boy Morris had been noted for his love of reading and +inventing tales; but he did not begin to write any until he had been +for a couple of years at Oxford. His earliest poems and his earliest +written prose tales belong to the same year, 1855, in which he +determined to make art his profession. The first of either that he +published appeared in the Oxford and Cambridge Magazine, which was +started and managed by him and his friends in 1856. In 1858, after he +had left Oxford, he brought out a volume of poems called, after the +title of the first poem in the book, "The Defence of Guenevere." Soon +afterwards he founded, with some of his old Oxford friends and others +whom he had made in London, among whom Dante Gabriel Rossetti was the +leading spirit, the firm of Morris and Company, manufacturers and +decorators. His business, in which he was the principal and finally +the sole partner, took up the main part of his time. He had also +married, and built himself a beautiful small house in Kent, the +decoration of which went busily on for several years. Among all these +other occupations he almost gave up writing stories, but never ceased +reading and thinking about them. In 1865 he came back to live in +London, where, being close to his work, he had more leisure for other +things; and between 1865 and 1870 he wrote between thirty and forty +tales in verse, containing not less than seventy or eighty thousand +lines in all. The longest of these tales, "The Life and Death of +Jason," appeared in 1867. It is the old Greek story of the ship Argo +and the voyage in quest of the Golden Fleece. Twenty-five other tales +are included in "The Earthly Paradise," published in three parts +between 1868 and 1870. + +During these years Morris learned Icelandic, and his next published +works were translations of some of the Icelandic sagas, writings +composed from six to nine hundred years ago, and containing a mass of +legends, histories and romances finely told in a noble language. These +translations were followed in 1876 by his great epic poem, "Sigurd the +Volsung and the Fall of the Niblungs." In that poem he retold a story +of which an Icelandic version, the "Volsunga Saga," written in the +twelfth century, is one of the world's masterpieces. It is the great +epic of Northern Europe, just as the "Iliad" and "Odyssey" of Homer +are the chief epics of ancient Greece, and the "Æneid" of Virgil the +chief epic of the Roman Empire. Morris's love for these great stories +of ancient times led him to rewrite the tale of the Volsungs and +Niblungs, which he reckoned the finest of them all, more fully and on +a larger scale than it had ever been written before. He had already, +in 1875, translated the "Æneid" into verse, and some ten years later, +in 1886-87, he also made a verse translation of the "Odyssey." In 1873 +he had also written another very beautiful poem, "Love is Enough," +containing the story of three pairs of lovers, a countryman and +country-woman, an emperor and empress, and a prince and peasant girl. +This poem was written in the form of a play, not of a narrative. + +To write prose was at first for Morris more difficult than to write +poetry. Verse came naturally to him, and he composed in prose only +with much effort until after long practice. Except for his early tales +in the Oxford and Cambridge Magazine and his translations of Icelandic +sagas, he wrote little but poetry until the year 1882. About that time +he began to give lectures and addresses, and wrote them in great +numbers during the latter part of his life. A number of them were +collected and published in two volumes called "Hopes and Fears for +Art" and "Signs of Change," and many others have been published +separately. He thus gradually accustomed himself to prose composition. +For several years he was too busy with other things, which he thought +more important, to spend time on storytelling; but his instinct forced +itself out again, and in 1886 he began the series of romances in prose +or in mixed prose and verse which went on during the next ten years. +The chief of these are, "A Dream of John Ball," "The House of +Wolfings," "The Roots of the Mountains," "News from Nowhere," "The +Glittering Plain," "The Wood beyond the World," "The Well at the +World's End," "The Water of the Wondrous Isles," and "The Sundering +Flood." During the same years he also translated, out of +Icelandic and old French books, more of the stories which he had +long known and admired. "The Sundering Flood" was written in his last +illness, and finished by him within a few days of his death, in the +autumn of 1896. + + + + +INTRODUCTION TO SIGURD + +By The Editors + + +The story of Sigurd is important to English people not only for its +wondrous beauty, but also on account of its great age, and of what it +tells us about our own Viking ancestors, who first knew the story. + +The tale was known all over the north of Europe, in Denmark, in +Germany, in Norway and Sweden, and in Iceland, hundreds of years +before it was written down. Sometimes different names were given to +the characters, sometimes the events of the story were slightly +altered, but in the main points it was one and the same tale. + +If we look at a map of Europe showing the nations as they were rather +more than a thousand years ago, we see the names of Saxons, Goths, +Danes, and Frisians marked on the lands around the Baltic Sea. Those +who bore these names were the makers of the tale of Sigurd. The name +of the Saxons is, of course, the best known to us, and next in +importance come the people we call Danes, or Northmen, or Vikings, who +attacked the coasts of the Saxon kingdoms in England. The Saxons came +from part of the land that is now known as Germany, and the Vikings +from Denmark and from Scandinavia. + +A third important tribe was that of the Goths, who dwelt first in +South Sweden, and then in Germany. + +All these people resembled one another in their way of life, in their +religion, and in their ideas of what deeds were good and what were +evil. Their lands were barren--too mountainous or too cold to bring +forth fruitful crops, and their homes were not such as would tempt men +never to leave them. So, though they built their little groups of +wooden houses in the valleys of their lands, and made fields and +pastures about them, these were often left to the care of the women +and the feeble men, while the strong men made raids over the sea to +other countries, where they engaged in the fighting which they loved, +and whence they brought back plunder to their homes. North, South, +East, and West they went, till few parts of Europe had not learnt to +know and fear them. + +Their ships were long and narrow, driven often by oars as well as +sails, and outside them, along the bulwarks, the crew hung their round +shields made of yellow wood from the lime-tree. The men wore byrnies +or breast-plates, and helmets, and they were armed with swords, long +spears, or heavy battle-axes. They were enemies none could afford to +despise, for they had great stature and strength of body, joined to +such fierceness and delight in war that they held a man disgraced if +he died peacefully at home. Moreover, they knew nothing of mercy to +the conquered. + +Courage, not only to fight, but also to bear suffering without +impatience or complaint, and the virtue of faithfulness were the +qualities they most honoured. To be wanting in courage was disgraceful +in their eyes, but it was equally disgraceful to refuse to help +kinsfolk, to lie, to deceive, or to desert a chief. + +If they put their enemies to death with fearful tortures, they did not +treat them more severely than the traitors they discovered among +themselves, and if they had no pity for those they conquered, yet they +knew well how to admire great leaders, and how to serve them +faithfully. But we can best realise their ideas on these matters by +considering their religion and their stories. + +They worshipped one chief god, Odin, and other gods and goddesses who +were his children. Odin was often called All-father because he was the +helper and friend of human beings, and appeared on earth in the form +of an old man, "one-eyed and seeming ancient," with cloud-blue hood +and grey cloak. He had courage, strength, and wondrous wisdom, for he +knew all events that happened in the world, and he understood the +speech of birds, and all kinds of charms and magic arts. Men served +him by brave fighting in a good cause, and when they perished in +battle he received their souls in his dwelling of Valhalla in the city +of Asgard, where they spent each day in warfare, and where at evening +the dead were revived, the wounded healed, and all feasted together in +Odin's palace. There they fed upon the flesh of the boar Saehrimner, +which was renewed as fast as it was eaten. Certain maidens called +Valkyrie, or Choosers of the Slain, were Odin's messengers whom he +sent forth into the battles of the world to find the warriors whom he +had appointed to die, and to bring them to Valhalla. + +In the story of Sigurd Odin has a very important part to play, but +for the understanding of the tale it is necessary to know something +about another of the gods. This is Loki, who, though sprung from the +race of the giants, yet lived with the sons of Odin in Asgard, +behaving sometimes as their trusty helper, but more often as their +cunning enemy. He caused much wretchedness, not only among the gods, +but on earth also, for he delighted in the sight of misery. His vices +were all those most hateful to the Norse people, for he was before +all things a liar, a deceiver, a faith-breaker, a skilful worker of +mischief by guile instead of by fair fight. There are many stories of +his cunning thefts, of the miseries he wrought among his companions, +and of his envy of the beloved god Balder, whom he slew by a trick. +His children were terrible monsters, as hated as himself. Yet, +strange to say, Loki was Odin's companion in many of his adventures. + +The gods inhabited Asgard, a city standing on a high mountain in the +middle of the world. Odin's palace of Valhalla was there, and other +palaces for his sons and daughters. All round Asgard lay Midgard, or +the ordinary world of men and women. Its caves and waste places were +inhabited by dwarfs, whom Odin had banished from the light of day for +various ill deeds. They were a spiteful and cunning race, jealous of +mankind, and eager to recover their lost power. Their strength lay in +their wondrous skill in handicraft, for they could forge more deadly +weapons, and fashion more lovely jewels than any made by the hands of +men. But, though possessed of wisdom, they had no spirit of kindness, +no respect for right, and no dislike of wrong. + +Around Midgard lay the sea, and beyond that Utgard, a hideous frozen +country inhabited by giants, enemies of the gods. + +But this arrangement of the world was only for a season. The gods +themselves looked forward to a time of defeat and death, when Asgard +should perish in flames and the world with it, and the sun and moon +should be darkened, and they themselves should be slain. This great +day was called Ragnarok, or sometimes the Twilight of the Gods. Then +Loki would gather giants and monsters to a great battle against the +gods, who would slay their enemies, but who would themselves fall in +the struggle. The sea would drown the earth, the stars would fall, +and all things would pass away. + +This terrible fate the gods awaited with calm and cheerfulness, +showing even greater courage than in their many deeds of war. They +had to submit to this fate, for there were three beings even greater +than they. These were the Norns, deciders of the fate of gods and men +alike. They were three giant maidens who dwelt by a sacred, +wisdom-giving fountain, and who controlled the lives of men, giving +to each sickness and health, success and failure and death when they +would. No man or god might escape what the Norns decreed for him. + +Many stories of these gods, together with tales of famous men, were +told among the northern peoples. These stories were passed on from +one to another by word of mouth, till they grew much longer and +fuller, and the happening of certain historical events helped to take +them from country to country. + +As we have seen, all the races of the North were warlike and eager +for adventure, and so when trouble came upon them in their own homes, +they readily took to the sea to plunder the coasts or to conquer +other lands. Between 800 and 900 A.D., when the Danes were invading +England, many were driven from Norway because they refused to submit +to a king called Harold Fairhair, and when he pursued them to the +Orkney and Faroe Islands they took refuge on the coasts of Iceland. +There they settled, built themselves wooden houses, planted such +crops as would grow in that bleak land, and founded a commonwealth. +Little by little they left the old Viking life, and it lived only in +their songs and stories. + +They had come to Iceland with a vast stock of tales in poetry, which +were related or sung by professional poets, called skalds, at all +kinds of feasts and gatherings. The skalds arranged and improved the +old stories, but they were not written down until about the time of +our King Stephen, when some unknown writer collected them into one +book called the Elder Edda. Very soon after this another book was +written containing the same stories in prose and called the Younger +or Prose Edda. In this way many of the old poems, and a great many +stories containing much information about the religion which the +people took with them to Iceland, have been preserved. + +But it was from neither of the Eddas that William Morris took his +story of Sigurd. + +All through the period from 800 A.D. till about the time of Henry III. +of England, the skalds had been re-telling many of the poetic stories +in prose, and as the people grew more civilised, one tale after +another was written down in its new form. + +These prose tales were called Sagas, and among the very greatest is +the Volsunga Saga, or Story of Sigurd. It is a tale which has been +told in other lands besides Iceland. We read part of the same story +in the Old English poem of Beowulf, and in Germany it was made into +a great poem called the Nibelungenlied. The German musician, Richard +Wagner, set it to music in a famous series of operas called the +Nibelungen Ring. But his tale differs in many points from that +contained in Morris's poem, for Morris chose the old saga as it was +written in Iceland, not the German story. On this he founded his poem, +adding much beautiful description, and greatly lengthening the whole. + +The story deals first with a certain King Volsung, to whose son, +Sigmund, Odin presented a magic sword. + +But Siggeir, the jealous king of the Goths, slew Volsung, and took +Sigmund prisoner that he might have the sword for himself. Only after +many toils and perils did Sigmund win it back and reign in his +father's kingdom. At last in his old age he fell in battle and the +sword of Odin was shattered. But his wife, Queen Hiordis, kept the +fragments for the son who was born to her soon after in Denmark, +whither she fled for safety. This son of Sigmund and Hiordis was +Sigurd the Volsung. He was brought up in Denmark and grew strong +and beautiful, brave, kind of heart, and utterly truthful in word +and deed. + +When he became a man he longed to win fame and kingship by mighty +deeds, and when his tutor told him of a great dragon that guarded a +hoard of ill-gotten gold in the mountains, he resolved to kill it. So +the fragments of Odin's sword were forged into a new blade, and +Sigurd slew the dragon and took the gold, but with it he brought on +himself a curse which had been put upon the treasure by the dwarf +from whom it had been stolen. + +Sigurd then found and wakened Brynhild, a maiden who lay in an +enchanted sleep upon a high mountain. They loved one another, and +Sigurd gave her a ring from the dragon's treasure, promising to +return and marry her. + +Then the curse led him to join with the fierce and treacherous +Niblungs or Cloudy People. Their king and his mother grew jealous +when they saw Sigurd more mighty and more beloved than themselves, +and by enchantments they caused him to forget Brynhild, to wed the +princess Gudrun, and at last to aid the Niblung king, Gunnar, to win +Brynhild for his own wife. + +Then the curse of the gold brought death to many, for Sigurd and +Brynhild discovered all the treachery of the Niblungs, who, in their +anger, slew Sigurd, and Brynhild killed herself that she might not +live and sorrow for him. + +Such is the story of Sigurd as it was told a thousand years ago in +distant Iceland, and as it is retold in this poem by William Morris. + + + + +THE STORY OF +SIGURD THE VOLSUNG. + + +BOOK I. + +SIGMUND. + + +_Of the dwelling of King Volsung, and the wedding of Signy his +daughter._ + + + There was a dwelling of Kings ere the world was waxen old; + Dukes were the door-wards there, and the roofs were thatched with gold: + Earls were the wrights that wrought it, and silver nailed its doors; + Earls' wives were the weaving-women, queens' daughters strewed its floors, + And the masters of its song-craft were the mightiest men that cast + The sails of the storm of battle adown the bickering blast. + There dwelt men merry-hearted, and in hope exceeding great + Met the good days and the evil as they went the way of fate: + There the Gods were unforgotten, yea whiles they walked with men, + Though e'en in that world's beginning rose a murmur now and again + Of the midward time and the fading and the last of the latter days, + And the entering in of the terror, and the death of the People's Praise. + + Thus was the dwelling of Volsung, the King of the Midworld's Mark, + As a rose in the winter season, a candle in the dark; + And as in all other matters 'twas all earthly houses' crown, + And the least of its wall-hung shields was a battle-world's renown, + So therein withal was a marvel and a glorious thing to see, + For amidst of its midmost hall-floor sprang up a mighty tree, + That reared its blessings roofward, and wreathed the roof-tree dear + With the glory of the summer and the garland of the year. + I know not how they called it ere Volsung changed his life, + But his dawning of fair promise, and his noontide of the strife, + His eve of the battle-reaping and the garnering of his fame, + Have bred us many a story and named us many a name; + And when men tell of Volsung, they call that war-duke's tree, + That crowned stem, the Branstock; and so was it told unto me. + + So there was the throne of Volsung beneath its blossoming bower, + But high o'er the roof-crest red it rose 'twixt tower and tower, + And therein were the wild hawks dwelling, abiding the dole of their lord; + And they wailed high over the wine, and laughed to the waking sword. + + Still were its boughs but for them, when lo, on an even of May + Comes a man from Siggeir the King with a word for his mouth to say: + "All hail to thee King Volsung, from the King of the Goths I come: + He hath heard of thy sword victorious and thine abundant home; + He hath heard of thy sons in the battle, the fillers of Odin's Hall; + And a word hath the west-wind blown him, (full fruitful be its fall!) + A word of thy daughter Signy the crown of womanhood: + Now he deems thy friendship goodly, and thine help in the battle good, + And for these will he give his friendship and his battle-aid again: + But if thou wouldst grant his asking, and make his heart full fain, + Then shalt thou give him a matter, saith he, without a price, + --Signy the fairer than fair, Signy the wiser than wise." + +Now the message gladdened Volsung and his sons, but no word spake +Signy, till the king asked her what her mind might be. Then said +Signy, "I will wed the Goth king, and yet shall I rue my lot in his +hall." And Volsung urged her with kind words to do nought against her +will, but her mind was fixed, and she said she wrought but what the +gods had fore-ordained. So the earl of Siggeir went his way with +gifts and fair words, bidding the Goth king come ere a month was over +to wed the white-handed Signy and bear her home. + + So on Mid-Summer Even ere the undark night began + Siggeir the King of the Goth-folk went up from the bath of the swan + Unto the Volsung dwelling with many an Earl about; + There through the glimmering thicket the linked mail rang out, + And sang as mid the woodways sings the summer-hidden ford: + There were gold-rings God-fashioned, and many a Dwarf-wrought sword, + And many a Queen-wrought kirtle and many a written spear; + So came they to the acres, and drew the threshold near, + And amidst of the garden blossoms, on the grassy, fruit-grown land, + Was Volsung the King of the Wood-world with his sons on either hand; + Therewith down lighted Siggeir the lord of a mighty folk, + Yet showed he by King Volsung as the bramble by the oak, + Nor reached his helm to the shoulder of the least of Volsung's sons. + And so into the hall they wended, the Kings and their mighty ones; + And they dight the feast full glorious, and drank through the death of the + day, + Till the shadowless moon rose upward, till it wended white away; + Then they went to the gold-hung beds, and at last for an hour or twain + Were all things still and silent, save a flaw of the summer rain. + + But on the morrow noontide when the sun was high and bare, + More glorious was the banquet, and now was Signy there, + And she sat beside King Siggeir, a glorious bride forsooth; + Ruddy and white was she wrought as the fair-stained sea-beast's tooth, + But she neither laughed nor spake, and her eyes were hard and cold, + And with wandering side-long looks her lord would she behold. + That saw Sigmund her brother, the eldest Volsung son, + And oft he looked upon her, and their eyes met now and anon, + And ruth arose in his heart, and hate of Siggeir the Goth, + And there had he broken the wedding, but for plighted promise and troth. + But those twain were beheld of Siggeir, and he deemed of the Volsung kin, + That amid their might and their malice small honour should he win; + Yet thereof made he no semblance, but abided times to be, + And laughed out with the loudest, amid the hope and the glee. + And nought of all saw Volsung, as he dreamed of the coming glory, + And how the Kings of his kindred should fashion the round world's story. + + So round about the Branstock they feast in the gleam of the gold; + And though the deeds of man-folk were not yet waxen old, + Yet had they tales for songcraft, and the blossomed garth of rhyme; + Tales of the framing of all things and the entering in of time + From the halls of the outer heaven; so near they knew the door. + Wherefore uprose a sea-king, and his hands that loved the oar + Now dealt with the rippling harp-gold, and he sang of the shaping of earth, + And how the stars were lighted, and where the winds had birth, + And the gleam of the first of summers on the yet untrodden grass. + But e'en as men's hearts were hearkening some heard the thunder pass + O'er the cloudless noontide heaven; and some men turned about + And deemed that in the doorway they heard a man laugh out. + Then into the Volsung dwelling a mighty man there strode, + One-eyed and seeming ancient, yet bright his visage glowed: + Cloud-blue was the hood upon him, and his kirtle gleaming-grey + As the latter morning sundog when the storm is on the way: + A bill he bore on his shoulder, whose mighty ashen beam + Burnt bright with the flame of the sea and the blended silver's gleam. + And such was the guise of his raiment as the Volsung elders had told + Was borne by their fathers' fathers, and the first that warred in the wold. + + So strode he to the Branstock nor greeted any lord, + But forth from his cloudy raiment he drew a gleaming sword, + And smote it deep in the tree-hole, and the wild hawks overhead + Laughed 'neath the naked heaven as at last he spake and said: + + "Earls of the Goths, and Volsungs, abiders on the earth, + Lo there amid the Branstock a blade of plenteous worth! + The folk of the war-wand's forgers wrought never better steel + Since first the burg of heaven uprose for man-folk's weal. + Now let the man among you whose heart and hand may shift + To pluck it from the oakwood e'en take it for my gift. + Then ne'er, but his own heart falter, its point and edge shall fail + Until the night's beginning and the ending of the tale. + Be merry Earls of the Goth-folk, O Volsung Sons be wise + And reap the battle-acre that ripening for you lies: + For they told me in the wild wood, I heard on the mountain side, + That the shining house of heaven is wrought exceeding wide, + And that there the Early-comers shall have abundant rest + While Earth grows scant of great ones, and fadeth from its best, + And fadeth from its midward and groweth poor and vile:-- + All hail to thee King Volsung! farewell for a little while!" + + So sweet his speaking sounded, so wise his words did seem, + That moveless all men sat there, as in a happy dream + We stir not lest we waken; but there his speech had end, + And slowly down the hall-floor, and outward did he wend; + And none would cast him a question or follow on his ways, + For they knew that the gift was Odin's, a sword for the world to praise. + + But now spake Volsung the King: "Why sit ye silent and still? + Is the Battle-Father's visage a token of terror and ill? + Arise O Volsung Children, Earls of the Goths arise, + And set your hands to the hilts as mighty men and wise! + Yet deem it not too easy; for belike a fateful blade + Lies there in the heart of the Branstock for a fated warrior made." + + Now therewith spake King Siggeir: "King Volsung give me a grace + To try it the first of all men, lest another win my place + And mere chance-hap steal my glory and the gain that I might win." + + Then somewhat laughed King Volsung, and he said: "O Guest, begin; + Though herein is the first as the last, for the Gods have long to live, + Nor hath Odin yet forgotten unto whom the gift he would give." + + Then forth to the tree went Siggeir, the Goth-folk's mighty lord, + And laid his hand on the gemstones, and strained at the glorious sword + Till his heart grew black with anger; and never a word he said + As he wended back to the high-seat: but Signy waxed blood-red + When he sat him adown beside her; and her heart was nigh to break + For the shame and the fateful boding: and therewith King Volsung spake: + + "Thus comes back empty-handed the mightiest King of Earth, + And how shall the feeble venture? yet each man knows his worth; + And today may a great beginning from a little seed upspring + To o'erpass many a great one that hath the name of King: + So stand forth free and unfree; stand forth both most and least: + But first ye Earls of the Goth-folk, ye lovely lords we feast." + + Upstood the Earls of Siggeir, and each man drew anigh + And deemed his time was coming for a glorious gain and high; + But for all their mighty shaping and their deeds in the battle-wood, + No looser in the Branstock that gift of Odin stood. + Then uprose Volsung's homemen, and the fell-abiding folk; + And the yellow-headed shepherds came gathering round the Oak, + And the searchers of the thicket and the dealers with the oar: + And the least and the worst of them all was a mighty man of war. + But for all their mighty shaping, and the struggle and the strain + Of their hands, the deft in labour, they tugged thereat in vain; + And still as the shouting and jeers, and the names of men and the laughter + Beat backward from gable to gable, and rattled o'er roof-tree and rafter, + Moody and still sat Siggeir; for he said: "They have trained me here + As a mock for their woodland bondsmen; and yet shall they buy it dear." + + Now the tumult sank a little, and men cried on Volsung the King + And his sons, the hedge of battle, to try the fateful thing. + So Volsung laughed, and answered: "I will set me to the toil, + Lest these my guests of the Goth-folk should deem I fear the foil. + Yet nought am I ill-sworded, and the oldest friend is best; + And this, my hand's first fellow, will I bear to the grave-mound's rest, + Nor wield meanwhile another: Yea, this shall I have in hand + When mid the host of Odin in the Day of Doom I stand." + + Therewith from his belt of battle he raised the golden sheath, + And showed the peace-strings glittering about the hidden death: + Then he laid his hand on the Branstock, and cried: "O tree beloved, + I thank thee of thy good-heart that so little thou art moved: + Abide thou thus, green bower, when I am dead and gone + And the best of all my kindred a better day hath won!" + + Then as a young man laughed he, and on the hilts of gold + His hand, the battle-breaker, took fast and certain hold, + And long he drew and strained him, but mended not the tale, + Yet none the more thereover his mirth of heart did fail; + But he wended to the high-seat and thence began to cry: + + "Sons I have gotten and cherished, now stand ye forth to try; + Lest Odin tell in God-home how from the way he strayed, + And how to the man he would not he gave away his blade." + So therewithal rose Rerir, and wasted might and main; + Then Gunthiof, and then Hunthiof, they wearied them in vain; + Nought was the might of Agnar; nought Helgi could avail; + Sigi the tall and Solar no further brought the tale, + Nor Geirmund the priest of the temple, nor Gylfi of the wood. + + At last by the side of the Branstock Sigmund the Volsung stood, + And with right hand wise in battle the precious sword-hilt caught, + Yet in a careless fashion, as he deemed it all for nought: + When lo, from floor to rafter went up a shattering shout, + For aloft in the hand of Sigmund the naked blade shone out + As high o'er his head he shook it: for the sword had come away + From the grip of the heart of the Branstock, as though all loose it lay. + A little while he stood there mid the glory of the hall, + Like the best of the trees of the garden, when the April sunbeams fall + On its blossomed boughs in the morning, and tell of the days to be; + Then back unto the high-seat he wended soberly; + For this was the thought within him; Belike the day shall come + When I shall bide here lonely amid the Volsung home, + Its glory and sole avenger, its after-summer seed. + Yea, I am the hired of Odin, his workday will to speed, + And the harvest-tide shall be heavy.--What then, were it come and past + And I laid by the last of the sheaves with my wages earned at the last? + + He lifted his eyes as he thought it, for now was he come to his place, + And there he stood by his father and met Siggeir face to face, + And he saw him blithe and smiling, and heard him how he spake: + "O best of the sons of Volsung, I am merry for thy sake + And the glory that thou hast gained us; but whereas thine hand and heart + Are e'en now the lords of the battle, how lack'st thou for thy part + A matter to better the best? Wilt thou overgild fine gold + Or dye the red rose redder? So I prithee let me hold + This sword that comes to thine hand on the day I wed thy kin. + For at home have I a store-house; there is mountain-gold therein + The weight of a war-king's harness; there is silver plenteous store; + There is iron, and huge-wrought amber, that the southern men love sore, + When they sell me the woven wonder, the purple born of the sea; + And it hangeth up in that bower, and all this is a gift for thee: + But the sword that came to my wedding, methinketh it meet and right, + That it lie on my knees in the council and stead me in the fight." + + But Sigmund laughed and answered, and he spake a scornful word: + "And if I take twice that treasure, will it buy me Odin's sword, + And the gift that the Gods have given? will it buy me again to stand + Betwixt two mightiest world-kings with a longed-for thing in mine hand + That all their might hath missed of? when the purple-selling men + Come buying thine iron and amber, dost thou sell thine honour then? + Do they wrap it in bast of the linden, or run it in moulds of earth? + And shalt thou account mine honour as a matter of lesser worth? + Came the sword to thy wedding, Goth-king, to thine hand it never came, + And thence is thine envy whetted to deal me this word of shame." + + Black then was the heart of Siggeir, but his face grew pale and red, + Till he drew a smile thereover, and spake the word and said: + "Nay, pardon me, Signy's kinsman! when the heart desires o'ermuch + It teacheth the tongue ill speaking, and my word belike was such. + But the honour of thee and thy kindred, I hold it even as mine, + And I love you as my heart-blood, and take ye this for a sign. + I bid thee now King Volsung, and these thy glorious sons, + And thine earls and thy dukes of battle and all thy mighty ones, + To come to the house of the Goth-kings as honoured guests and dear + And abide the winter over; that the dusky days and drear + May be glorious with thy presence, that all folk may praise my life, + And the friends that my fame hath gotten; and that this my new-wed wife + Thine eyes may make the merrier till she bear my eldest born." + + Then speedily answered Volsung: "No king of the earth might scorn + Such noble bidding, Siggeir; and surely will I come + To look upon thy glory and the Goths' abundant home. + But let two months wear over, for I have many a thing + To shape and shear in the Woodland, as befits a people's king: + And thou meanwhile here abiding of all my goods shalt be free, + And then shall we twain together roof over the glass-green sea + With the sides of our golden dragons; and our war-hosts' blended shields + Shall fright the sea-abiders and the folk of the fishy fields." + + Answered the smooth-speeched Siggeir: "I thank thee well for this, + And thy bidding is most kingly; yet take it not amiss + That I wend my ways in the morning; for we Goth-folk know indeed + That the sea is a foe full deadly, and a friend that fails at need." + + * * * * * + + And for all the words of Volsung e'en so must the matter be, + And Siggeir the Goth and Signy on the morn shall sail the sea. + +Then the feast sped on the fairer, far into the night, but amidst the +mirth Sigmund and Signy were sad at heart. And before the sun was +risen next day Signy came to her father in secret and begged him to +stay in his own country rather than trust the guileful heart and +murder-loving hand of Siggeir. But Volsung answered that he must go +to be Siggeir's guest, for he could not break his pledged word +through fear of peril. So on the morrow the smooth-speeched Siggeir +departed with Signy, and when two months were passed Volsung made +ready to visit them. + + +_How the Volsungs fared to the Land of the Goths, and of the +fall of King Volsung._ + + * * * * * + + So now, when all things were ready, in the first of the autumn tide + Adown unto the swan-bath the Volsung Children ride; + And lightly go a shipboard, a goodly company, + Though the tale thereof be scanty and their ships no more than three: + But kings' sons dealt with the sail-sheets and earls and dukes of war + Were the halers of the hawsers and the tuggers at the oar. + + * * * * * + + But when the sun on the morrow shone over earth and sea + Ashore went the Volsung Children a goodly company, + And toward King Siggeir's dwelling o'er heath and holt they went. + But when they came to the topmost of a certain grassy bent, + Lo there lay the land before them as thick with shield and spear + As the rich man's wealthiest acre with the harvest of the year. + There bade King Volsung tarry and dight the wedge-array; + "For duly," he said, "doeth Siggeir to meet his guests by the way." + So shield by shield they serried, nor ever hath been told + Of any host of battle more glorious with the gold; + And there stood the high King Volsung in the very front of war; + And lovelier was his visage than ever heretofore, + As he rent apart the peace-strings that his brand of battle bound + And the bright blade gleamed to the heavens, and he cast the sheath to the + ground. + Then up the steep came the Goth-folk, and the spear-wood drew anigh, + And earth's face shook beneath them, yet cried they never a cry; + And the Volsungs stood all silent, although forsooth at whiles + O'er the faces grown earth-weary would play the flickering smiles, + And swords would clink and rattle: not long had they to bide, + For soon that flood of murder flowed round the hillock-side; + Then at last the edges mingled, and if men forbore the shout, + Yet the din of steel and iron in the grey clouds rang about; + But how to tell of King Volsung, and the valour of his folk! + Three times the wood of battle before their edges broke; + And the shield-wall, sorely dwindled and reft of the ruddy gold, + Against the drift of the war-blast for the fourth time yet did hold. + But men's shields were waxen heavy with the weight of shafts they bore, + And the fifth time many a champion cast earthward Odin's door + And gripped the sword two-handed; and in sheaves the spears came on. + And at last the host of the Goth-folk within the shield-wall won, + And wild was the work within it, and oft and o'er again + Forth brake the sons of Volsung, and drave the foe in vain; + For the driven throng still thickened, till it might not give aback. + But fast abode King Volsung amid the shifting wrack + In the place where once was the forefront: for he said: "My feet are old, + And if I wend on further there is nought more to behold + Than this that I see about me."--Whiles drew his foes away + And stared across the corpses that before his sword-edge lay. + But nought he followed after: then needs must they in front + Thrust on by the thickening spear-throng come up to bear the brunt, + Till all his limbs were weary and his body rent and torn: + Then he cried: "Lo now, Allfather, is not the swathe well shorn? + Wouldst thou have me toil for ever, nor win the wages due?" + + And mid the hedge of foemen his blunted sword he threw, + And, laid like the oars of a longship the level war-shafts pressed + On 'gainst the unshielded elder, and clashed amidst his breast; + And dead he fell, thrust backward, and rang on the dead men's gear: + But still for a certain season durst no man draw anear, + For 'twas e'en as a great God's slaying, and they feared the wrath of + the sky; + And they deemed their hearts might harden if awhile they should let him lie. + + +_Of the ending of all Volsung's Sons save Sigmund only, and of how +he abideth in the wild wood._ + +They joined battle again, but the fight grew feeble after Volsung +fell, and his earls were struck down one by one. Last of all, his sons +were borne to earth and carried captive to the hall, where Siggeir +awaited them, for he himself had feared to face the Volsung swords. + +Then he would have slain them at once without torture, but Signy +besought him that they might breathe the earthly air a day or two +before their death, and he listened to her, for he saw how he might +thus give them greater pain. He bade his men lead them to a glade in +the forest and fetter them to the mightiest tree that grew there. So +the ten Volsungs were fettered with iron to a great oak, and on the +morrow Siggeir's woodmen told him sweet tidings, for beasts of the +wood had devoured two and left their bones in the fetters. So it +befell every night till the woodmen brought word that nothing +remained of the king's foemen save their bones in the fetters that +had bound them. + +Now a watch had been set on Signy lest she should send help to her +brethren, but henceforth no man hindered her from going out to the +wood. So that night she came to the glade in the forest, and saw in +the midst of it a mighty man who was toiling to dig a grave in the +greensward. + + And behold, it was Sigmund the Volsung: but she cried and had no fear: + + "If thou art living, Sigmund, what day's work dost thou here + In the midnight and the forest? but if thou art nought but a ghost + Then where are those Volsung brethren, of whom thou wert best and most?" + + Then he turned about unto her, and his raiment was fouled and torn, + And his eyen were great and hollow, as a famished man forlorn; + + But he cried: "Hail, Sister Signy! I looked for thee before, + Though what should a woman compass, she one alone and no more, + When all we shielded Volsungs did nought in Siggeir's land? + O yea, I am living indeed, and this labour of mine hand + Is to bury the bones of the Volsungs; and lo, it is well-nigh done. + So draw near, Volsung's daughter, and pile we many a stone + Where lie the grey wolf's gleanings of what was once so good." + + So she set her hand to the labour, and they toiled, they twain in the wood, + And when the work was over, dead night was beginning to fall: + Then spake the white-hand Signy: "Now shall thou tell the tale + Of the death of the Volsung brethren ere the wood thy wrath shall hide, + Ere I wend me back sick-hearted in the dwelling of kings to abide." + +Then said Sigmund: + +"We lay fettered to the tree and at midnight there came from the +thicket two mighty wood-wolves, and falling on my brethren Gylfi and +Geirmund, they devoured them in their bonds, and turned again to the +forest. Night after night, my sister, this befell, till I was left +alone with our brother Sigi to await the wood-beasts. Then came +midnight, and one of the wolves fell upon Sigi and the other turned +on me. But I met it with snarling like its own, and my teeth gripped +its throat, and my hands strove with the fetters till they burst. So +I slew the beast with my irons, but when I looked, Sigi lay dead, and +the other wolf had fled again to the thicket. Then I lay hid till +Siggeir's woodmen had looked on the place and departed with their +tidings, and as I beheld them I knew that pity was killed in my +heart, and that henceforward I should live but to avenge me on him +who hath so set the gods at nought." Then Signy spake noble words of +comfort, saying: "I wot well that Siggeir shall pay the due price of +his deeds, though the vengeance may tarry long, and I wot also that +thy life shall yet know gladness. Bear a stout heart, therefore, to +meet the waiting time, and make thee a lair in the woods whence thou +mayest fall on men of the Goth-folk, and win what thy life needeth. +As for me, I will see thy face once again ere many days are past to +wot where thou dwellest and then must we meet no more." + +And so saying, she kissed him and departed, but Sigmund turned in the +dawn-light, and sought a wood-lair as she had bidden him. + + +_Of the fostering of Sinfiotli, Signy's son, and of the slaying of +Siggeir the Goth-king._ + + So wrought is the will of King Siggeir, and he weareth Odin's sword + And it lies on his knees in the council and hath no other lord: + And he sendeth earls o'er the sea-flood to take King Volsung's land, + And those scattered and shepherdless sheep must come beneath his hand. + And he holdeth the milk-white Signy as his handmaid and his wife, + And nought but his will she doeth, nor raiseth a word of strife; + So his heart is praising his wisdom, and he deems him of most avail + Of all the lords of the cunning that teacheth how to prevail. + +Now Sigmund dwelt long in the wild-wood, abiding in a strong cave deep +hidden in a thicket by the river-side. + +And now and again he fell upon the folk of Siggeir as they journeyed, +and slew them, and thus he had war-gear and gold as much as he would. +Also he became a master of masters in the smithying craft, and the +folk who beheld the gleam of his forge by night, deemed that a king +of the Giants was awakened from death to dwell there, and they durst +not wander near the cavern. + +So passed the years till on a springtide morning Signy sent forth to +Sigmund a damsel leading her eldest son, a child of ten summers, and +bearing a word of her mouth to bid him foster the child for his +helper, if he should prove worthy and bold-hearted. And Sigmund +heeded her words and fostered the child for the space of three months +even though he could give no love to a son of Siggeir. + +At last he was minded to try the boy's courage, to which end he set a +deadly ash-grey adder in the meal-sack, and bade the child bake bread. +But he feared when he found something that moved in the meal and had +not courage to do the task. Then would Sigmund foster him no longer, +but thrust him out from the woods to return to his father's hall. + +So ten years won over again, and Signy sent another son to the +wild-wood, and the lad was called Sinfiotli. Sigmund thrust him into +many dangers, and burdened him with heavy loads, and he bore all +passing well. + +Now after a year Sigmund deemed that the time for his testing was +come, and once again he set an adder in the meal-sack and bade the +lad bake bread. And the boy feared not the worm, but kneaded it with +the dough and baked all together. So Sigmund cherished him as his own +son, and he grew strong and valiant and loved Sigmund as his father. + +Now Sigmund began to ponder how he might at last take vengeance on +Siggeir, and gladly did Sinfiotli hear him, for all his love was +given to Sigmund, so that he no longer deemed himself the Goth-king's +son. + +At last when the long mirk nights of winter were come, Sigmund and his +foster-son went their way to the home of Siggeir and sought to lurk +therein. Then Sinfiotli led the way to a storehouse where lay great +wine-casks, and whence they could see the lighted feast-hall, and +hear the clamour of Siggeir's folk. There they had to abide the time +when the feasters should be hushed in sleep. Long seemed the hours to +Sinfiotli, but Sigmund was calm and clear-eyed. + +Then it befell that two of Queen Signy's youngest-born children threw +a golden toy hither and thither in the feast-hall, and at last it +rolled away among the wine-casks till it lay at Sigmund's feet. So the +children followed it, and coming face to face with those lurkers, they +fled back to the feast-hall. And Sigmund and his foster-son saw all +hope was ended, for they heard the rising tumult as men ran to their +weapons; so they made ready to go forth and die in the hall. Then on +came the battle around the twain, and but short is the tale to tell, +for Sinfiotli slipped on the blood-stained floor and the shield wall +encompassed Sigmund, and so they were both hoppled strait and fast. + +The Goth-folk washed their hall of blood and got them to slumber, but +Siggeir lay long pondering what dire death he might bring on his foes. + +Now at the first grey dawning Siggeir's folk dight a pit and it had +two chambers with a sundering stone in the midst. Then they brought +the Volsung kindred and set them therein, one in each chamber, that +they might abide death alone, and yet in hearing of one another's woe. +And over the top the thralls laid roofing turfs, but so lingering were +their hands that eve drew on ere the task was finished. Then stole +Signy forth in the dusk, and spake the thralls fair, and gave them +gold that they might hold their peace of what she did. And when they +gainsaid her nought she drew out something wrapped in wheat straw, and +cast it down swiftly into the pit where Sinfiotli lay, and departed. + +Sinfiotli at first deemed it food, but after a space Sigmund heard him +laugh aloud for joy, for within the wrappings lay the sword of the +Branstock. And Sinfiotli cried out the joyous tidings to his +foster-father, and tarried not to set the point to the stone that +sundered them, and lo, the blade pierced through, and Sigmund grasped +the point. Then sawed Sigmund and Sinfiotli together till they cleft +the stone, and they hewed full hard at the roofing, till they cast the +turfs aside, and their hearts were gladdened with the sight of the +starry heaven. + +Forth they leapt, and no words were needed of whither they should +wend, but they fell on King Siggeir's night-watch and slew them +sleeping, and made haste to find the store of winter faggots, +wherewith they built a mighty bale about the hall of Siggeir. They +set a torch to the bale, and Sigmund gat him to one hall door and +Sinfiotli to the other, and now the Goth-folk awoke to their last +of days. + +Then cried Siggeir to his thralls and offered them joyous life-days +and plenteous wealth if they would give him life, deeming that they +had fired the hall in hatred. But there came a great voice crying +from the door, "Nay, no toilers are we; wealth is ours when we list, +but now our hearts are set to avenge our kin; now hath the murder +seed sprung and borne its fruit; now the death-doomed and buried work +this deed; now doom draweth nigh thee at the hand of Sigmund the +Volsung, and Sinfiotli, Signy's son." + +Then the voice cried again, "Come ye forth, women of the Goths, and +thou, O Signy, my sister, come forth to seek the boughs of the +Branstock." So fled the white-faced women from the fire, and passed +scatheless by Sinfiotli's blade, but Signy came not at all. Then the +earls of Siggeir strove to burst from the hall, but ever the two +glaives at the doorways drove them back to the fire. + +And, lo, now came Signy in queenly raiment, and stood before Sinfiotli +and said, "O mightiest son, this is the hour of our parting, and fain +am I of slumber and the end of my toil now I have seen this day. And +the blither do I leave thee because thy days on earth shall be but +few; I charge thee make thy life glorious, and leave a goodly tale." + +She kissed him and turned to Sigmund, and her face in the dawn-light +seemed to him fair and ruddy as in the days when they twain dwelt by +the Branstock. And she said, "My youth was happy, yet this hour is +the crown of my life-days which draw nigh their ending. And now I +charge thee, Sigmund, when thou sittest once more a mighty king +beneath the boughs of the Branstock, that thou remember how I loved +the Volsung name, and spared not to spend all that was mine for its +blossoming." Then she kissed him and turned again, and the dawn +brightened at her back, and the fire shone red before her, and so for +the last time was Signy beheld by the eyes of men. Thereafter King +Siggeir's roof-tree bowed earthward, and the mighty walls crashed +down, and so that dark murder-hall lay wasted, and its glory was +swept away. + + +_How Sigmund cometh to the Land of the Volsungs again, and of the +death of Sinfiotli his Son._ + + Now Sigmund the king bestirs him, and Sinfiotli, Sigmund's son, + And they gather a host together, and many a mighty one; + Then they set the ships in the sea-flood and sail from the stranger's shore, + And the beaks of the golden dragons see the Volsungs' land once more; + And men's hearts are fulfilled of joyance; and they cry, The sun shines now + With never a curse to hide it, and they shall reap that sow! + Then for many a day sits Sigmund 'neath the boughs of the Branstock green, + With his earls and lords about him as the Volsung wont hath been. + And oft he thinketh on Signy and oft he nameth her name, + And tells how she spent her joyance and her life-days and her fame + That the Volsung kin might blossom and bear the fruit of worth + For the hope of unborn people and the harvest of the earth. + And again he thinks of the word that he spake that other day, + How he should abide there lonely when his kin was passed away, + Their glory and sole avenger, their after-summer seed. + +But far and wide went Sinfiotli through the earth, mowing the war +swathe and wasting the land, and passing but little time in song and +laughter in his father's hall. So went his days in warfare and valour, +and yet his end was not glorious, for he drank of the poisoned cup +given him by the sister of a warrior he had rightly slain. + +None might come nigh Sigmund in his anguish as he lifted the head of +his fallen foster-child, and then swiftly bare him from the hall. On +he went through dark thicket and over wind-swept heath, past the +foot-hills and the homes of the deer, till he came to a great rushing +water, whereon was a white-sailed boat, manned by a mighty man, +"one-eyed and seeming ancient." This mighty one told Sigmund he had +been bidden to waft a great king over the water, and bade him lay his +burden on board, but when Sigmund would have followed he could see +neither ship nor man. + +But Sigmund went back to his throne, and behaved himself as a king, +listening to his people's plaints, and dealing out justice. + + +_Of the last battle of King Sigmund, and the death of him._ + + Now there was a king of the Islands, whom the tale doth Eylimi call, + And saith he was wise and valiant, though his kingdom were but small: + He had one only daughter that Hiordis had to name, + A woman wise and shapely beyond the praise of fame. + And now saith the son of King Volsung that his time is short enow + To labour the Volsung garden, and the hand must be set to the plough: + So he sendeth an earl of the people to King Eylimi's high-built hall, + Bearing the gifts and the tokens, and this word in his mouth withal: + + "King Sigmund the son of Volsung hath sent me here with a word + That plenteous good of thy daughter among all folk he hath heard, + And he wooeth that wisest of women that she may sit on his throne. + + * * * * * + + "Now hereof would he have an answer within a half-month's space, + And these gifts meanwhile he giveth for the increase of thy grace." + + So King Eylimi hearkened the message, and hath no word to say, + For an earl of King Lyngi the mighty is come that very day, + He too for the wooing of Hiordis: and Lyngi's realm is at hand, + But afar King Sigmund abideth o'er many a sea and land: + And the man is young and eager, and grim and guileful of mood. + + At last he sayeth: "Abide here such space as thou deemest good, + But tomorn shalt thou have thine answer that thine heart may the lighter be, + For the hearkening of harp and songcraft, and the dealing with game and + glee." + Then he went to Queen Hiordis' bower, where she worked in the silk and the + gold + The deeds of the world that should be, and the deeds that were of old. + And he stood before her and said: + +"Often have I told thee that thou shouldst wed only the man thou +wouldst. Now it hath come to pass that two kings desire thee." + +And she swiftly rose to her feet as she said, "And which be they?" + + He spake: "The first is Lyngi, a valiant man and a fair, + A neighbour ill for thy father, if a foe's name he must bear: + And the next is King Sigmund the Volsung of a land far over sea, + And well thou knowest his kindred, and his might and his valiancy, + And the tales of his heart of a God; and though old he be waxen now, + Yet men deem that the wide world's blossom from Sigmund's loins shall grow." + + Said Hiordis: "I wot, my father, that hereof may strife arise; + Yet soon spoken is mine answer; for I, who am called the wise, + Shall I thrust by the praise of the people, and the tale that no ending + hath, + And the love and the heart of the godlike, and the heavenward-leading path, + For the rose and the stem of the lily, and the smooth-lipped youngling's + kiss, + And the eyes' desire that passeth, and the frail unstable bliss? + Now shalt thou tell King Sigmund, that I deem it the crown of my life + To dwell in the house of his fathers amidst all peace and strife." + + * * * * * + + Now the king's heart sore misgave him, but herewith must he be content, + And great gifts to the earl of Lyngi and a word withal he sent, + That the woman's troth was plighted to another people's king. + But King Sigmund's earl on the morrow hath joyful yea-saying, + And ere two moons be perished he shall fetch his bride away. + "And bid him," King Eylimi sayeth, "to come with no small array, + But with sword and shield and war-shaft, lest aught of ill betide." + + So forth goes the earl of Sigmund across the sea-flood wide, + And comes to the land of the Volsungs, and meeteth Sigmund the king, + And tells how he sped on his errand, and the joyful yea-saying. + So King Sigmund maketh him ready, and they ride adown to the sea + All glorious of gear and raiment, and a goodly company. + Yet hath Sigmund thought of his father, and the deed he wrought before, + And hath scorn to gather his people and all his hosts of war + To wend to the feast and the wedding: yet are their long-ships ten, + And the shielded folk aboard them are the mightiest men of men. + So Sigmund goeth a shipboard, and they hoist their sails to the wind, + And the beaks of the golden dragons leave the Volsungs' land behind. + Then come they to Eylimi's kingdom, and good welcome have they there, + And when Sigmund looked on Hiordis, he deemed her wise and fair. + But her heart was exceeding fain when she saw the glorious king, + And it told her of times that should be full many a noble thing. + + So there is Sigmund wedded at a great and goodly feast, + And day by day on Hiordis the joy of her heart increased; + And her father joyed in Sigmund and his might and majesty, + And dead in the heart of the Isle-king his ancient fear did lie. + + Yet, forsooth, had men looked seaward, they had seen the gathering cloud, + And the little wind arising, that should one day pipe so loud. + For well may ye wot indeed that King Lyngi the Mighty is wroth, + When he getteth the gifts and the answer, and that tale of the woman's + troth: + And he saith he will have the gifts and the woman herself withal, + Either for loving or hating, and that both those heads shall fall. + So now when Sigmund and Hiordis are wedded a month or more, + And the Volsung bids men dight them to cross the sea-flood o'er, + Lo, how there cometh the tidings of measureless mighty hosts + Who are gotten ashore from their long-ships on the skirts of King Eylimi's + coasts. + + Sore boded the heart of the Isle-king of what the end should be. + But Sigmund long beheld him, and he said: "Thou deem'st of me + That my coming hath brought thee evil; but put aside such things; + For long have I lived, and I know it, that the lives of mighty kings + Are not cast away, nor drifted like the down before the wind; + And surely I know, who say it, that never would Hiordis' mind + Have been turned to wed King Lyngi or aught but the Volsung seed. + Come, go we forth to the battle, that shall be the latest deed + Of thee and me meseemeth: yea, whether thou live or die, + No more shall the brand of Odin at peace in his scabbard lie." + + And therewith he brake the peace-strings and drew the blade of bale, + And Death on the point abided, Fear sat on the edges pale. + + So men ride adown to the sea-strand, and the kings their hosts array + When the high noon flooded heaven; and the men of the Volsungs lay, + With King Eylimi's shielded champions mid Lyngi's hosts of war, + As the brown pips lie in the apple when ye cut it through the core. + + But now when the kings were departed, from the King's house Hiordis went, + And before men joined the battle she came to a woody bent, + Where she lay with one of her maidens the death and the deeds to behold. + + In the noon sun shone King Sigmund as an image all of gold, + And he stood before the foremost and the banner of his fame, + And many a thing he remembered, and he called on each earl by his name + To do well for the house of the Volsungs, and the ages yet unborn. + Then he tossed up the sword of the Branstock, and blew on his father's horn, + Dread of so many a battle, doom-song of so many a man. + Then all the earth seemed moving as the hosts of Lyngi ran + On the Volsung men and the Isle-folk like wolves upon the prey; + But sore was their labour and toil ere the end of their harvesting day. + + On went the Volsung banners, and on went Sigmund before, + And his sword was the flail of the tiller on the wheat of the + wheat-thrashing floor, + And his shield was rent from his arm, and his helm was sheared from his + head: + But who may draw nigh him to smite for the heap and the rampart of dead? + White went his hair on the wind like the ragged drift of the cloud, + And his dust-driven, blood-beaten harness was the death-storm's angry + shroud, + When the summer sun is departing in the first of the night of wrack; + And his sword was the cleaving lightning, that smites and is hurried aback + Ere the hand may rise against it; and his voice was the following thunder. + + Then cold grew the battle before him, dead-chilled with the fear and the + wonder: + For again in his ancient eyes the light of victory gleamed; + From his mouth grown tuneful and sweet the song of his kindred streamed; + And no more was he worn and weary, and no more his life seemed spent: + And with all the hope of his childhood was his wrath of battle blent; + And he thought: A little further, and the river of strife is passed, + And I shall sit triumphant the king of the world at last. + + But lo, through the hedge of the war-shafts a mighty man there came, + One-eyed and seeming ancient, but his visage shone like flame: + Gleaming-grey was his kirtle, and his hood was cloudy blue; + And he bore a mighty twi-bill, as he waded the fight-sheaves through, + And stood face to face with Sigmund, and upheaved the bill to smite. + Once more round the head of the Volsung fierce glittered the Branstock's + light, + The sword that came from Odin; and Sigmund's cry once more + Rang out to the very heavens above the din of war. + Then clashed the meeting edges with Sigmund's latest stroke, + And in shivering shards fell earthward that fear of worldly folk. + But changed were the eyes of Sigmund, and the war-wrath left his face; + For that grey-clad mighty helper was gone, and in his place + Drave on the unbroken spear-wood 'gainst the Volsung's empty hands: + And there they smote down Sigmund, the wonder of all lands, + On the foemen, on the death-heap his deeds had piled that day. + + Ill hour for Sigmund's fellows! they fall like the seeded hay + Before the brown scythes' sweeping, and there the Isle-king fell + In the fore-front of his battle, wherein he wrought right well, + And soon they were nought but foemen who stand upon their feet + On the isle-strand by the ocean where the grass and the sea-sand meet. + + And now hath the conquering War-king another deed to do, + And he saith: "Who now gainsayeth King Lyngi come to woo, + The lord and the overcomer and the bane of the Volsung kin?" + So he fares to the Isle-king's dwelling a wife of the kings to win; + And the host is gathered together, and they leave the field of the dead; + And round as a targe of the Goth-folk the moon ariseth red. + + And so when the last is departed, and she deems they will come not aback, + Fares Hiordis forth from the thicket to the field of the fateful wrack, + And half-dead was her heart for sorrow as she waded the swathes of the + sword. + Not far did she search the death-field ere she found her king and lord + On the heap that his glaive had fashioned: not yet was his spirit past, + Though his hurts were many and grievous, and his life-blood ebbing fast; + And glad were his eyes and open as her wan face over him hung, + And he spake: + "Thou art sick with sorrow, and I would thou wert not so young; + Yet as my days passed shall thine pass; and a short while now it seems + Since my hand first gripped the sword-hilt, and my glory was but in dreams." + + She said: "Thou livest, thou livest! the leeches shall heal thee still." + + "Nay," said he, "my heart hath hearkened to Odin's bidding and will; + For today have mine eyes beheld him: nay, he needed not to speak: + Forsooth I knew of his message and the thing he came to seek. + And now do I live but to tell thee of the days that are yet to come: + And perchance to solace thy sorrow; and then will I get me home + To my kin that are gone before me. Lo, yonder where I stood + The shards of a glaive of battle that was once the best of the good: + Take them and keep them surely. I have lived no empty days; + The Norns were my nursing mothers; I have won the people's praise. + When the Gods for one deed asked me I ever gave them twain; + Spendthrift of glory I was, and great was my life-days' gain; + Now these shards have been my fellow in the work the Gods would have, + But today hath Odin taken the gift that once he gave. + I have wrought for the Volsungs truly, and yet have I known full well + That a better one than I am shall bear the tale to tell: + And for him shall these shards be smithied; and he shall be my son + To remember what I have forgotten and to do what I left undone." + + * * * * * + + Then failed the voice of Sigmund; but so mighty was the man, + That a long while yet he lingered till the dusky night grew wan, + And she sat and sorrowed o'er him, but no more a word he spake. + Then a long way over the sea-flood the day began to break; + And when the sun was arisen a little he turned his head + Till the low beams bathed his eyen, and there lay Sigmund dead. + And the sun rose up on the earth; but where was the Volsung kin + And the folk that the Gods had begotten the praise of all people to win? + + +_How King Sigmund the Volsung was laid in mound on the sea-side +of the Isle-realm._ + + Now Hiordis looked from the dead, and her eyes strayed down to the sea, + And a shielded ship she saw, and a war-dight company, + Who beached the ship for the landing: so swift she fled away, + And once more to the depth of the thicket, wherein her handmaid lay: + And she said: "I have left my lord, and my lord is dead and gone, + And he gave me a charge full heavy, and here are we twain alone, + And earls from the sea are landing: give me thy blue attire, + And take my purple and gold and my crown of the sea-flood's fire, + And be thou the wife of King Volsung when men of our names shall ask, + And I will be the handmaid: now I bid thee to this task, + And I pray thee not to fail me, because of thy faith and truth, + And because I have ever loved thee, and thy mother fostered my youth." + + * * * * * + + So the other nought gainsaith it and they shift their raiment there: + But well-spoken was the maiden, and a woman tall and fair. + + Now the lord of those new-coming men was a king and the son of a king, + King Elf the son of the Helper, and he sailed from warfaring + And drew anigh to the Isle-realm and sailed along the strand; + For the shipmen needed water and fain would go a-land; + And King Elf stood hard by the tiller while the world was yet a-cold: + Then the red sun lit the dawning, and they looked, and lo, behold! + The wrack of a mighty battle, and heaps of the shielded dead, + And a woman alive amidst them, a queen with crowned head, + And her eyes strayed down to the sea-strand, and she saw that weaponed folk, + And turned and fled to the thicket: then the lord of the shipmen spoke: + "Lo, here shall we lack for water, for the brooks with blood shall run, + Yet wend we ashore to behold it and to wot of the deeds late done." + + So they turned their faces to Sigmund, and waded the swathes of the sword. + "O, look ye long," said the Sea-king, "for here lieth a mighty lord: + And all these are the deeds of his war-flame, yet hardy hearts, be sure, + That they once durst look in his face or the wrath of his eyen endure; + Though his lips be glad and smiling as a God that dreameth of mirth. + Would God I were one of his kindred, for none such are left upon earth. + Now fare we into the thicket, for thereto is the woman fled, + And belike she shall tell us the story of this field of the mighty dead." + + So they wend and find the women, and bespeak them kind and fair: + Then spake the gold-crowned handmaid: "Of the Isle-king's house we were, + And I am the Queen called Hiordis; and the man that lies on the field + Was mine own lord Sigmund the Volsung, the mightiest under shield." + + Then all amazed were the sea-folk when they hearkened to that word, + And great and heavy tidings they deem their ears have heard: + But again spake out the Sea-king: "And this blue-clad one beside, + So pale, and as tall as a Goddess, and white and lovely eyed?" + + "In sooth and in troth," said the woman, "my serving-maid is this; + She hath wept long over the battle, and sore afraid she is." + + Now the king looks hard upon her, but he saith no word thereto, + And down again to the death-field with the women-folk they go. + There they set their hands to the labour, and amidst the deadly mead + They raise a mound for Sigmund, a mighty house indeed; + And therein they set that folk-king, and goodly was his throne, + And dight with gold and scarlet: and the walls of the house were done + With the cloven shields of the foemen, and banners borne to field; + But none might find his war-helm or the splinters of his shield, + And clenched and fast was his right hand, but no sword therein he had: + For Hiordis spake to the shipmen: + "Our lord and master bade + That the shards of his glaive of battle should go with our lady the Queen: + And by them that lie a-dying a many things are seen." + + +_How Queen Hiordis is known; and how she abideth in the house of +Elf the son of the Helper._ + +Then Elf asked of the two women where they would go, and they prayed +that he would take them to his land, where they dwelt for long in all +honour. + +But the old queen, the mother of Elf, was indeed a woman wise above +many, and fain would she know why the less noble of the two was +dressed the more richly and why the handmaid gave always wiser +counsel than her mistress. So she bade her son to speak suddenly and +to take them unawares. + +Then he asked the gold-clad one how she knew in the dark winter night +that the dawn was near. She answered that ever in her youth she awoke +at the dawn to follow her daily work, and always was she wont to +drink of whey, and now, though the times were changed, she still woke +athirst near the dawning. + +To Elf it seemed strange that a fair queen in her youth had need to +arise to follow the plough in the dark of the winter morning, and +turning to the handmaid he asked of her the same question. She +replied that in her youth her father had given her the gold ring she +still wore, and which had the magic power of growing cold as the +hours neared daybreak, and such was her dawning sign. + +Then did Elf know of their exchange, and he told Hiordis that long +had he loved her and felt pity for her sorrow, and that he would make +her his wife. So that night she sat on the high-seat with the crown +on her head, and dreamt of what had been and what was to be. + + So passeth the summer season, and the harvest of the year, + And the latter days of the winter on toward the springtide wear. + + + + +BOOK II. + +REGIN. + + +_Of the birth of Sigurd the son of Sigmund._ + + + Peace lay on the land of the Helper and the house of Elf his son; + There merry men went bedward when their tide of toil was done, + And glad was the dawn's awakening, and the noontide fair and glad: + There no great store had the franklin, and enough the hireling had; + And a child might go unguarded the length and breadth of the land + With a purse of gold at his girdle and gold rings on his hand. + 'Twas a country of cunning craftsmen, and many a thing they wrought, + That the lands of storm desired, and the homes of warfare sought. + But men deemed it o'er-well warded by more than its stems of fight, + And told how its earth-born watchers yet lived of plenteous might. + So hidden was that country, and few men sailed its sea, + And none came o'er its mountains of men-folk's company. + But fair-fruited, many-peopled, it lies a goodly strip, + 'Twixt the mountains cloudy-headed and the sea-flood's surging lip, + And a perilous flood is its ocean, and its mountains, who shall tell + What things, in their dales deserted and their wind-swept heaths may dwell. + + * * * * * + + Again, in the house of the Helper there dwelt a certain man + Beardless and low of stature, of visage pinched and wan: + So exceeding old was Regin, that no son of man could tell + In what year of the days passed over he came to that land to dwell: + But the youth of King Elf had he fostered, and the Helper's youth thereto, + Yea and his father's father's: the lore of all men he knew, + And was deft in every cunning, save the dealings of the sword: + So sweet was his tongue-speech fashioned, that men trowed his every word; + His hand with the harp-strings blended was the mingler of delight + With the latter days of sorrow; all tales he told aright; + The Master of the Masters in the smithying craft was he; + And he dealt with the wind and the weather and the stilling of the sea; + Nor might any learn him leech-craft, for before that race was made, + And that man-folk's generation, all their life-days had he weighed. + +In this land of the Helper and Elf, his son, dwelt Hiordis, and here +her son, the last of the Volsungs, was born. The babe had eyes of +such wondrous brightness that the folk shrank from him, while they +rejoiced over his birth, but his mother spake to the babe as to one +who might understand, and she told him of Sigmund and Volsung, of +their wars and their troubles and their joys. Then she gave him to +her maids to bear him to the kings of the land that they might +rejoice with her. + + But there sat the Helper of Men with King Elf and his Earls in the hall, + And they spake of the deeds that had been, and told of the times to befall, + And they hearkened and heard sweet voices and the sound of harps draw nigh, + Till their hearts were exceeding merry and they knew not wherefore or why: + Then, lo, in the hall white raiment, as thither the damsels came, + And amid the hands of the foremost was the woven gold aflame. + + "O daughters of earls," said the Helper, "what tidings then do ye bear? + Is it grief in the merry morning, or joy or wonder or fear?" + + Quoth the first: "It is grief for the foemen that the Masters of God-home + would grieve." + + Said the next: "'Tis a wonder of wonders, that the hearkening world shall + believe." + + "A fear of all fears," said the third, "for the sword is uplifted on men." + + "A joy of all joys," said the fourth, "once come, and it comes not again!" + + * * * * * + + "What then hath betid," said King Elf, "do the high Gods stand in our gate?" + + "Nay," said they, "else were we silent, and they should be telling of fate." + + "Is the bidding come," said the Helper, "that we wend the Gods to see?" + + "Many summers and winters," they said, "ye shall live on the earth, it may + be." + + * * * * * + + "Speak then," said the ancient Helper, "let the worst and the best be said." + + * * * * * + + They said: "The earth is weary: but the tender blade hath sprung, + That shall wax till beneath its branches fair bloom the meadows green; + For the Gods and they that were mighty were glad erewhile with the Queen." + + Said King Elf: "How say ye, women? Of a King new-born do ye tell, + By a God of the Heavens begotten in our fathers' house to dwell?" + + "By a God of the Earth," they answered; "but greater yet is the son, + Though long were the days of Sigmund, and great are the deeds he hath done." + + Then she with the golden burden to the kingly high-seat stepped + And away from the new-born baby the purple cloths she swept, + And cried: "O King of the people, long mayst thou live in bliss, + As our hearts today are happy! Queen Hiordis sends thee this, + And she saith that the world shall call it by the name that thou shalt name; + Now the gift to thee is given, and to thee is brought the fame." + + Then e'en as a man astonied King Elf the Volsung took, + While his feast-hall's ancient timbers with the cry of the earl-folk shook; + + * * * * * + + With the love of many peoples was the wise king smitten through, + As he hung o'er the new-born Volsung: but at last he raised his head, + And looked forth kind o'er his people, and spake aloud and said: + + "O Sigmund King of Battle; O man of many days, + Whom I saw mid the shields of the fallen and the dead men's silent praise, + Lo, how hath the dark tide perished and the dawn of day begun! + And now, O mighty Sigmund, wherewith shall we name thy son?" + + But there rose up a man most ancient, and he cried: "Hail Dawn of the Day! + How many things shalt thou quicken, how many shalt thou slay! + How many things shalt thou waken, how many lull to sleep! + How many things shalt thou scatter, how many gather and keep! + O me, how thy love shall cherish, how thine hate shall wither and burn! + How the hope shall be sped from thy right hand, nor the fear to thy left + return! + O thy deeds that men shall sing of! O thy deeds that the Gods shall see! + O SIGURD, Son of the Volsungs, O Victory yet to be!" + + Men heard the name and they knew it, and they caught it up in the air, + And it went abroad by the windows and the doors of the feast-hall fair, + It went through street and market; o'er meadow and acre it went, + And over the wind-stirred forest and the dearth of the sea-beat bent, + And over the sea-flood's welter, till the folk of the fishers heard, + And the hearts of the isle-abiders on the sun-scorched rocks were stirred. + + * * * * * + + +_Sigurd getteth to him the horse that is called Greyfell._ + + Now waxeth the son of Sigmund in might and goodliness, + And soft the days win over, and all men his beauty bless. + But amidst the summer season was the Isle-queen Hiordis wed + To King Elf the son of the Helper, and fair their life-days sped. + Peace lay on the land for ever, and the fields gave good increase, + And there was Sigurd waxing mid the plenty and the peace. + Now hath the child grown greater, and is keen and eager of wit + And full of understanding, and oft hath he joy to sit + Amid talk of weighty matters when the wise men meet for speech; + And joyous he is moreover and blithe and kind with each. + But Regin the wise craftsmaster heedeth the youngling well, + And before the Kings he cometh, and saith such words to tell. + + "I have fostered thy youth, King Elf, and thine O Helper of men, + And ye wot that such a master no king shall see again; + And now would I foster Sigurd; for, though he be none of thy blood, + Mine heart of his days that shall be speaketh abundant good." + + Then spake the Helper of men-folk: "Yea, do herein thy will: + For thou art the Master of Masters, and hast learned me all my skill: + But think how bright is this youngling, and thy guile from him withhold; + For this craft of thine hath shown me that thy heart is grim and cold, + Though three men's lives thrice over thy wisdom might not learn; + And I love this son of Sigmund, and mine heart to him doth yearn." + + Then Regin laughed, and answered: "I doled out cunning to thee; + But nought with him will I measure: yet no cold-heart shall he be, + Nor grim, nor evil-natured: for whate'er my will might frame, + Gone forth is the word of the Norns, that abideth ever the same. + And now, despite my cunning, how deem ye I shall die?" + + And they said he would live as he listed, and at last in peace should lie + When he listed to live no longer; so mighty and wise he was. + + But again he laughed and answered: "One day it shall come to pass, + That a beardless youth shall slay me: I know the fateful doom; + But nought may I withstand it, as it heaves up dim through the gloom." + + So is Sigurd now with Regin, and he learns him many things; + Yea, all save the craft of battle, that men learned the sons of kings: + The smithying sword and war-coat; the carving runes aright; + The tongues of many countries, and soft speech for men's delight; + The dealing with the harp-strings, and the winding ways of song. + So wise of heart waxed Sigurd, and of body wondrous strong: + And he chased the deer of the forest, and many a wood-wolf slew, + And many a bull of the mountains: and the desert dales he knew, + And the heaths that the wind sweeps over; and seaward would he fare, + Far out from the outer skerries, and alone the sea-wights dare. + +One day did Regin tell Sigurd of deeds done in the past by kings both +bold and wise, and the lad longed, too, to do the like, and his +bright eyes glowed with desire. And Regin told him that he should +follow his Volsung fathers and roam far and wide, leaving the +peace-lovers and home-abiders who had cherished his youth. + +This roused Sigurd's wrath, for he would have nought said against +those who had reared him, but Regin bade him ask for one of the +horses of Gripir, and banished his anger by a song of the deeds of +the Choosers of the Slain. Before the song was finished Sigurd went +to King Elf and asked that he might have authority to seek a horse +from King Gripir. + + Then smiled King Elf, and answered: "A long way wilt thou ride, + To where unpeace and troubles and the griefs of the soul abide, + Yea unto the death at the last: yet surely shall thou win + The praise of many a people: so have thy way herein. + Forsooth no more may we hold thee than the hazel copse may hold + The sun of the early dawning, that turneth it all unto gold." + + Then sweetly Sigurd thanked them; and through the night he lay + Mid dreams of many a matter till the dawn was on the way; + Then he shook the sleep from off him, and that dwelling of Kings he left + And wended his ways unto Gripir. On a crag from the mountain reft + Was the house of the old King builded; and a mighty house it was, + Though few were the sons of men that over its threshold would pass: + But the wild ernes cried about it, and the vultures toward it flew, + And the winds from the heart of the mountains searched every chamber + through, + And about were meads wide-spreading; and many a beast thereon, + Yea some that are men-folk's terror, their sport and pasture won. + + So into the hall went Sigurd; and amidst was Gripir set + In a chair of the sea-beast's tooth; and his sweeping beard nigh met + The floor that was green as the ocean, and his gown was of mountain-gold, + And the kingly staff in his hand was knobbed with the crystal cold. + + Now the first of the twain spake Gripir: "Hail King with the eyen bright! + Nought needest thou show the token, for I know of thy life and thy light. + And no need to tell of thy message; it was wafted here on the wind, + That thou wouldst be coming today a horse in my meadow to find: + And strong must he be for the bearing of those deeds of thine that shall be. + Now choose thou of all the way-wearers that are running loose in my lea." + + * * * * * + + Then again gat Sigurd outward, and adown the steep he ran + And unto the horse-fed meadow: but lo, a grey-clad man, + One-eyed and seeming ancient, there met him by the way: + And he spake: "Thou hastest, Sigurd; yet tarry till I say + A word that shall well bestead thee: for I know of these mountains well + And all the lea of Gripir, and the beasts that thereon dwell." + + "Wouldst thou have red gold for thy tidings? art thou Gripir's horse-herd + then? + Nay sure, for thy face is shining like the battle-eager men + My master Regin tells of: and I love thy cloud-grey gown, + And thy visage gleams above it like a thing my dreams have known." + + "Nay whiles have I heeded the horse-kind," then spake that elder of days, + "And sooth do the sages say, when the beasts of my breeding they praise. + There is one thereof in the meadow, and, wouldst thou cull him out, + Thou shalt follow an elder's counsel, who hath brought strange things about, + Who hath known thy father aforetime, and other kings of thy kin." + + So Sigurd said, "I am ready; and what is the deed to win?" + He said: "We shall drive the horses adown to the water-side, + That cometh forth from the mountains, and note what next shall betide." + + Then the twain sped on together, and they drave the horses on + Till they came to a rushing river, a water wide and wan; + And the white mews hovered o'er it; but none might hear their cry + For the rush and the rattle of waters, as the downlong flood swept by. + So the whole herd took the river and strove the stream to stem, + And many a brave steed was there; but the flood o'ermastered them: + And some, it swept them down-ward, and some won back to bank, + Some, caught by the net of the eddies, in the swirling hubbub sank; + But one of all swam over, and they saw his mane of grey + Toss over the flowery meadows, a bright thing far away: + Wide then he wheeled about them, then took the stream again + And with the waves' white horses mingled his cloudy mane. + + Then spake the elder of days: "Hearken now, Sigurd, and hear; + Time was when I gave thy father a gift thou shalt yet deem dear, + And this horse is a gift of my giving:--heed nought where thou mayst ride: + For I have seen thy fathers in a shining house abide, + And on earth they thought of its threshold, and the gifts I had to give; + Nor prayed for a little longer, and a little longer to live." + + Then forth he strode to the mountains, and fain was Sigurd now. + To ask him many a matter: but dim did his bright shape grow, + As a man from the litten doorway fades into the dusk of night; + And the sun in the high-noon shone, and the world was exceeding bright. + + So Sigurd turned to the river and stood by the wave-wet strand, + And the grey horse swims to his feet and lightly leaps aland, + And the youngling looks upon him, and deems none beside him good. + And indeed, as tells the story, he was come of Sleipnir's blood, + The tireless horse of Odin: cloud-grey he was of hue, + And it seemed as Sigurd backed him that Sigmund's son he knew, + So glad he went beneath him. Then the youngling's song arose + As he brushed through the noontide blossoms of Gripir's mighty close, + Then he singeth the song of Greyfell, the horse that Odin gave, + Who swam through the sweeping river, and back through the toppling wave. + + +_Regin telleth Sigurd of his kindred, and of the Gold that was +accursed from ancient days._ + + Now yet the days pass over, and more than words may tell + Grows Sigurd strong and lovely, and all children love him well. + But oft he looks on the mountains and many a time is fain + To know of what lies beyond them, and learn of the wide world's gain. + + * * * * * + + Now again it happed on a day that he sat in Regin's hall + And hearkened many tidings of what had chanced to fall, + And of kings that sought their kingdoms o'er many a waste and wild, + And at last saith the crafty master: + "Thou art King Sigmund's child: + Wilt thou wait till these kings of the carles shall die in a little land, + Or wilt thou serve their sons and carry the cup to their hand; + Or abide in vain for the day that never shall come about, + When their banners shall dance in the wind and shake to the war-gods' + shout?" + + Then Sigurd answered and said: "Nought such do I look to be. + But thou, a deedless man, too much thou eggest me: + And these folk are good and trusty, and the land is lovely and sweet, + And in rest and in peace it lieth as the floor of Odin's feet: + Yet I know that the world is wide, and filled with deeds unwrought; + And for e'en such work was I fashioned, lest the songcraft come to nought." + + * * * * * + + Then answered Regin the guileful: "The deed is ready to hand, + Yet holding my peace is the best, for well thou lovest the land; + And thou lovest thy life moreover, and the peace of thy youthful days, + And why should the full-fed feaster his hand to the rye-bread raise? + Yet they say that Sigmund begat thee and he looked to fashion a man. + Fear nought; he lieth quiet in his mound by the sea-waves wan." + + So shone the eyes of Sigurd, that the shield against him hung + Cast back their light as the sunbeams; but his voice to the roof-tree rung: + "Tell me, thou Master of Masters, what deed is the deed I shall do? + Nor mock thou the son of Sigmund lest the day of his birth thou rue." + + Then answered the Master of Sleight: "The deed is the righting of wrong, + And the quelling a bale and a sorrow that the world hath endured o'erlong, + And the winning a treasure untold, that shall make thee more than the kings; + Thereof is the Helm of Aweing, the wonder of earthly things, + And thereof is its very fellow, the War-Coat all of gold, + That has not its like in the heavens, nor has earth of its fellow told." + + Then answered Sigurd the Volsung: "How long hereof hast thou known? + And what unto thee is this treasure, that thou seemest to give as thine + own?" + + "Alas!" quoth the smithying master, "it is mine, yet none of mine, + Since my heart herein avails not, and my hand is frail and fine-- + It is long since I first came hither to seek a man for my need; + For I saw by a glimmering light that hence would spring the deed, + And many a deed of the world: but the generations passed, + And the first of the days was as near to the end that I sought as the last; + Till I looked on thine eyes in the cradle: and now I deem through thee, + That the end of my days of waiting, and the end of my woes shall be." + + Then Sigurd awhile was silent; but at last he answered and said: + "Thou shalt have thy will and the treasure, and shalt take the curse on + thine head + If a curse the gold enwrappeth: but the deed will I surely do, + For today the dreams of my childhood hath bloomed in my heart anew: + And I long to look on the world and the glory of the earth + And to deal in the dealings of men, and garner the harvest of worth. + But tell me, thou Master of Masters, where lieth this measureless wealth; + Is it guarded by swords of the earl-folk, or kept by cunning and stealth? + Is it over the main sea's darkness, or beyond the mountain wall? + Or e'en in these peaceful acres anigh to the hands of all?" + + Then Regin answered sweetly: "Hereof must a tale be told: + Bide sitting, thou son of Sigmund, on the heap of unwrought gold, + And hearken of wondrous matters, and of things unheard, unsaid, + And deeds of my beholding ere the first of Kings was made. + + "And first ye shall know of a sooth, that I never was born of the race + Which the masters of God-home have made to cover the fair earth's face; + But I come of the Dwarfs departed; and fair was the earth whileome + Ere the short-lived thralls of the Gods amidst its dales were come. + + * * * * * + + "It was Reidmar the Ancient begat me; and now was he waxen old, + And a covetous man and a king; and he bade, and I built him a hall, + And a golden glorious house; and thereto his sons did he call, + And he bade them be evil and wise, that his will through them might be + wrought. + Then he gave unto Fafnir my brother the soul that feareth nought, + And the brow of the hardened iron, and the hand that may never fail, + And the greedy heart of a king, and the ear that hears no wail. + + "But next unto Otter my brother he gave the snare and the net, + And the longing to wend through the wild-wood, and wade the highways wet: + And the foot that never resteth, while aught be left alive + That hath cunning to match man's cunning or might with his might to strive. + + "And to me, the least and the youngest, what gift for the slaying of ease? + Save the grief that remembers the past, and the fear that the future sees; + And the hammer and fashioning-iron, and the living coal of fire; + And the craft that createth a semblance, and fails of the heart's desire; + And the toil that each dawning quickens and the task that is never done; + And the heart that longeth ever, nor will look to the deed that is won. + + "Thus gave my father the gifts that might never be taken again; + Far worse were we now than the Gods, and but little better than men. + But yet of our ancient might one thing had we left us still: + We had craft to change our semblance, and could shift us at our will + Into bodies of the beast-kind, or fowl, or fishes cold; + + * * * * * + + "So dwelt we, brethren and father; and Fafnir my brother fared + As the scourge and compeller of all things, and left no wrong undared; + But for me, I toiled and I toiled; and fair grew my father's house; + But writhen and foul were the hands that had made it glorious; + + * * * * * + + "And myself a little fragment amidst it all I saw, + Grim, cold-hearted, and unmighty as the tempest-driven straw. + --Let be.--For Otter my brother saw seldom field or fold, + And he oftenest used that custom, whereof e'en now I told, + And would shift his shape with the wood-beasts and the things of land and + sea; + And he knew what joy their hearts had, and what they longed to be, + And their dim-eyed understanding, and his wood-craft waxed so great, + That he seemed the king of the creatures and their very mortal fate. + + "Now as the years won over three folk of the heavenly halls + Grew aweary of sleepless sloth, and the day that nought befalls; + And they fain would look on the earth, and their latest handiwork, + And turn the fine gold over, lest a flaw therein should lurk. + And the three were the heart-wise Odin, the Father of the Slain, + And Loki, the World's Begrudger, who maketh all labour vain, + And Hoenir, the Utter-Blameless, who wrought the hope of man, + And his heart and inmost yearnings, when first the work began;--" + +The three wandered over the earth till they came to a mighty river, +haunted for long by Otter, by reason of its great wealth of fish. +There he lay on the bank, and as he watched the fish in the water his +shape was changed to that of a true otter, and he began to devour a +golden trout. Two of the gods would have passed without stay, but in +the otter Loki saw an enemy, and straightway killed him, rejoicing +over his dead body. + +As night fell the three gods came to a great hall, wondrously wrought +and carved, with golden hangings and forests of pillars. In the midst +of the hall sat a king on an ivory throne, and his garments were made +of purple from the sea. Kind welcome he gave to the wanderers, and +there they feasted and delighted in music and song; but even as they +drank and made merry they knew they were caught in the snare. + +The king's welcome changed to scornful laughter, and thus he spoke: +"Truly are ye gods, but ye are come to people who want you not. Before +ye were known to us, still was the winter cold, and the summer warm, +and still could we find meat and drink. I am Reidmar, and ye come +straight from the slaying of Reidmar's son. Shall I not then take the +vengeance I will? Unless, indeed, ye give me the treasure I covet, and +then shall ye go your way. This is my sentence. Choose ye which ye +will." + +Then spake the wise Allfather and prayed Reidmar to unsay his word, +and cease to desire the gold. But Reidmar the Wise, and Fafnir the +Lord, and Regin the Worker cried aloud in their wrath:-- + + "'O hearken Gods of the Goths! ye shall die, and we shall be Gods, + And rule your men beloved with bitter-heavy rods, + And make them beasts beneath us, save today ye do our will, + And pay us the ransom of blood, and our hearts with the gold fulfill.' + + "But Odin spake in answer, and his voice was awful and cold: + 'Give righteous doom, O Reidmar! say what ye will of the Gold!' + + "Then Reidmar laughed in his heart, and his wrath and his wisdom fled, + And nought but his greed abided; and he spake from his throne and said: + + "'Now hearken the doom I shall speak! Ye stranger-folk shall be free + When ye give me the Flame of the Waters, the gathered Gold of the Sea, + That Andvari hideth rejoicing in the wan realm pale as the grave; + And the Master of Sleight shall fetch it, and the hand that never gave, + And the heart that begrudgeth for ever shall gather and give and rue. + --Lo this is the doom of the wise, and no doom shall be spoken anew.' + + "Then Odin spake: 'It is well; the Curser shall seek for the curse; + And the Greedy shall cherish the evil--and the seed of the Great they shall + nurse.' + + "No word spake Reidmar the great, for the eyes of his heart were turned + To the edge of the outer desert, so sore for the gold he yearned. + But Loki I loosed from the toils, and he goeth his way abroad; + And the heart of Odin he knoweth, and where he shall seek the Hoard. + + "There is a desert of dread in the uttermost part of the world, + Where over a wall of mountains is a mighty water hurled, + Whose hidden head none knoweth, nor where it meeteth the sea; + And that force is the Force of Andvari, and an Elf of the Dark is he. + In the cloud and the desert he dwelleth amid that land alone; + And his work is the storing of treasure within his house of stone. + Time was when he knew of wisdom, and had many a tale to tell + Of the days before the Dwarf-age, and of what in that world befell: + And he knew of the stars and the sun, and the worlds that come and go + On the nether rim of heaven, and whence the wind doth blow, + And how the sea hangs balanced betwixt the curving lands, + And how all drew together for the first Gods' fashioning hands. + But now is all gone from him, save the craft of gathering gold, + And he heedeth nought of the summer, nor knoweth the winter cold, + Nor looks to the sun nor the snowfall, nor ever dreams of the sea, + Nor hath heard of the making of men-folk, nor of where the high Gods be; + But ever he gripeth and gathereth, and he toileth hour by hour, + Nor knoweth the noon from the midnight as he looks on his stony bower, + And saith: 'It is short, it is narrow for all I shall gather and get; + For the world is but newly fashioned, and long shall its years be yet.' + + "There Loki fareth, and seeth in a land of nothing good, + Far off o'er the empty desert, the reek of the falling flood + Go up to the floor of heaven, and thither turn his feet + As he weaveth the unseen meshes and the snare of strong deceit; + So he cometh his ways to the water, where the glittering foam-bow glows, + And the huge flood leaps the rock-wall and a green arch over it throws. + There under the roof of water he treads the quivering floor, + And the hush of the desert is felt amid the water's roar, + And the bleak sun lighteth the wave-vault, and tells of the fruitless plain, + And the showers that nourish nothing, and the summer come in vain. + + "There did the great Guile-master his toils and his tangles set, + And as wide as was the water, so wide was woven the net; + And as dim as the Elf's remembrance did the meshes of it show; + And he had no thought of sorrow, nor spared to come and go + On his errands of griping and getting till he felt himself tangled and + caught: + Then back to his blinded soul was his ancient wisdom brought, + And he saw his fall and his ruin, as a man by the lightning's flame + Sees the garth all flooded by foemen; and again he remembered his name; + And e'en as a book well written the tale of the Gods he knew, + And the tale of the making of men, and much of the deeds they should do. + + * * * * * + + "Then Andvari groaned and answered: 'I know what thou wouldst have, + The wealth mine own hands gathered, the gold that no man gave.' + + "'Come forth,' said Loki, 'and give it, and dwell in peace henceforth-- + Or die in the toils if thou listeth, if thy life be nothing worth.' + + "Full sore the Elf lamented, but he came before the God, + And the twain went into the rock-house and on fine gold they trod, + And the walls shone bright, and brighter than the sun of the upper air. + How great was that treasure of treasures: and the Helm of Dread was there; + The world but in dreams had seen it; and there was the hauberk of gold; + None other is in the heavens, nor has earth of its fellow told. + + "Then Loki bade the Elf-king bring all to the upper day, + And he dight himself with his Godhead to bear the treasure away: + So there in the dim grey desert before the God of Guile, + Great heaps of the hid-world's treasure the weary Elf must pile, + And Loki looked on laughing: but, when it all was done, + And the Elf was hurrying homeward, his finger gleamed in the sun: + Then Loki cried: 'Thou art guileful: thou hast not learned the tale + Of the wisdom that Gods hath gotten and their might of all avail. + + * * * * * + + "'Come hither again to thy master, and give the ring to me; + For meseems it is Loki's portion, and the Bale of Men shall it be.' + + "Then the Elf drew off the gold-ring and stood with empty hand + E'en where the flood fell over 'twixt the water and the land, + And he gazed on the great Guile-master, and huge and grim he grew; + And his anguish swelled within him, and the word of the Norns he knew; + How that gold was the seed of gold to the wise and the shapers of things, + The hoarders of hidden treasure, and the unseen glory of rings; + But the seed of woe to the world and the foolish wasters of men, + And grief to the generations that die and spring again: + Then he cried: + 'There farest thou Loki, and might I load thee worse + Than with what thine ill heart beareth, then shouldst thou bear my curse: + But for men a curse thou bearest: entangled in my gold, + Amid my woe abideth another woe untold. + Two brethren and a father, eight kings my grief shall slay; + And the hearts of queens shall be broken, and their eyes shall loathe the + day.' + + * * * * * + + "But Loki laughed in silence, and swift in Godhead went, + To the golden hall of Reidmar and the house of our content. + But when that world of treasure was laid within our hall + 'Twas as if the sun were minded to live 'twixt wall and wall, + And all we stood by and panted. Then Odin spake and said: + + "'O Kings, O folk of the Dwarf-kind, lo, the ransom duly paid! + Will ye have this sun of the ocean, and reap the fruitful field, + And garner up the harvest that earth therefrom shall yield.' + + "So he spake; but a little season nought answered Reidmar the wise, + But turned his face from the Treasure, and peered with eager eyes + Endlong the hall and athwart it, as a man may chase about + A ray of the sun of the morning that a naked sword throws out; + And lo from Loki's right-hand came the flash of the fruitful ring, + And at last spake Reidmar scowling: + 'Ye wait for my yea-saying + That your feet may go free on the earth, and the fear of my toils may be + done; + That then ye may say in your laughter: The fools of the time agone! + The purblind eyes of the Dwarf-kind! they have gotten the garnered sheaf + And have let their Masters depart with the Seed of Gold and of Grief: + O Loki, friend of Allfather, cast down Andvari's ring, + Or the world shall yet turn backward and the high heavens lack a king.' + + "Then Loki drew off the Elf-ring and cast it down on the heap, + And forth as the gold met gold did the light of its glory leap: + But he spake: 'It rejoiceth my heart that no whit of all ye shall lack. + Lest the curse of the Elf-king cleave not, and ye 'scape the utter wrack.' + +Then Regin loosed the shackles of the gods and they departed into the +night, but Odin stayed in the doorway and thus he spake: "Why do ye +thus desire treasure and take sorrow to yourselves? Know ye not that +I was before your fathers' fathers, and that I can foresee your fate, +and the end of the gold ye covet? I am the Wise One who ordereth all." + +Then they went, but Regin afterwards often recalled Odin's words and +the evening filled with the gleam of the gold, but little cared he +then, so well he loved the gold. And he prayed his father to keep the +treasure, but give a little unto him and Fafnir for the help they had +given him that day. + +His father in no wise heeded his words, but sat ever on his ivory +throne, staring moodily at the gold. But Fafnir grew fierce and grim +as he watched him. + + "The night waned into the morning, and still above the Hoard + Sat Reidmar clad in purple; but Fafnir took his sword, + And I took my smithying-hammer, and apart in the world we went; + But I came aback in the even, and my heart was heavy and spent; + And I longed, but fear was upon me and I durst not go to the Gold; + So I lay in the house of my toil mid the things I had fashioned of old; + And methought as I lay in my bed 'twixt waking and slumber of night + That I heard the tinkling metal and beheld the hall alight, + But I slept and dreamed of the Gods, and the things that never have slept, + Till I woke to a cry and a clashing and forth from the bed I leapt, + And there by the heaped-up Elf-gold my brother Fafnir stood, + And there at his feet lay Reidmar and reddened the Treasure with blood; + And e'en as I looked on his eyen they glazed and whitened with death, + And forth on the torch-litten hall he shed his latest breath. + + "But I looked on Fafnir and trembled for he wore the Helm of Dread, + And his sword was bare in his hand, and the sword and the hand were red + With the blood of our father Reidmar, and his body was wrapped in gold, + With the ruddy-gleaming mailcoat of whose fellow hath nought been told, + And it seemed as I looked upon him that he grew beneath mine eyes: + And then in the mid-hall's silence did his dreadful voice arise: + + "'I have slain my father Reidmar, that I alone might keep + The Gold of the darksome places, the Candle of the Deep. + I am such as the Gods have made me, lest the Dwarf-kind people the earth, + Or mingle their ancient wisdom with its short-lived latest birth. + I shall dwell alone henceforward, and the Gold and its waxing curse, + I shall brood on them both together, let my life grow better or worse. + And I am a King henceforward and long shall be my life, + And the Gold shall grow with my longing, for I shall hide it from strife,' + And hoard up the Ring of Andvari in the house thine hand hath built. + O thou, wilt thou tarry and tarry, till I cast thy blood on the guilt? + Lo, I am a King for ever, and alone on the Gold shall I dwell + And do no deed to repent of and leave no tale to tell.' + + "More awful grew his visage as he spake the word of dread, + And no more durst I behold him, but with heart a-cold I fled; + I fled from the glorious house my hands had made so fair, + As poor as the new-born baby with nought of raiment or gear: + I fled from the heaps of gold, and my goods were the eager will, + And the heart that remembereth all, and the hand that may never be still. + + "Then unto this land I came, and that was long ago. + As men-folk count the years; and I taught them to reap and to sow, + + * * * * * + + "And I grew the master of masters--Think thou how strange it is + That the sword in the hands of a stripling shall one day end all this! + + "Yet oft mid all my wisdom did I long for my brother's part, + And Fafnir's mighty kingship weighed heavy on my heart + When the Kings of the earthly kingdoms would give me golden gifts + From out of their scanty treasures, due pay for my cunning shifts. + And once--didst thou number the years thou wouldst think it long ago-- + I wandered away to the country from whence our stem did grow. + + * * * * * + + "Then I went to the pillared hall-stead, and lo, huge heaps of gold, + And to and fro amidst them a mighty Serpent rolled: + Then my heart grew chill with terror, for I thought on the wont of our race, + And I, who had lost their cunning, was a man in a deadly place, + A feeble man and a swordless in the lone destroyer's fold; + For I knew that the Worm was Fafnir, the Wallower on the Gold. + + "So I gathered my strength and fled, and hid my shame again + Mid the foolish sons of men-folk; and the more my hope was vain, + The more I longed for the Treasure, and deliv'rance from the yoke: + And yet passed the generations, and I dwelt with the short-lived folk. + + "Long years, and long years after, the tale of men-folk told + How up on the Glittering Heath was the house and the dwelling of gold, + And within that house was the Serpent, and the Lord of the Fearful Face: + Then I wondered sore of the desert; for I thought of the golden place + My hands of old had builded; for I knew by many a sign + That the Fearful Face was my brother, that the blood of the Worm was mine. + This was ages long ago, and yet in that desert he dwells, + Betwixt him and men death lieth, and no man of his semblance tells; + But the tale of the great Gold-wallower is never the more outworn. + Then came thy kin, O Sigurd, and thy father's father was born, + And I fell to the dreaming of dreams, and I saw thine eyes therein, + And I looked and beheld thy glory and all that thy sword should win; + And I thought that thou shouldst be he, who should bring my heart its rest, + That of all the gifts of the Kings thy sword should give me the best. + + "Ah, I fell to the dreaming of dreams; and oft the gold I saw, + And the golden-fashioned Hauberk, clean-wrought without a flaw, + And the Helm that aweth the world; and I knew of Fafnir's heart + That his wisdom was greater than mine, because he had held him apart, + Nor spilt on the sons of men-folk our knowledge of ancient days, + Nor bartered one whit for their love, nor craved for the people's praise. + + "And some day I shall have it all, his gold and his craft and his heart + And the gathered and garnered wisdom he guards in the mountains apart." + + * * * * * + + And he spake: "Hast thou hearkened, Sigurd, wilt thou help a man that is old + To avenge him for his father? Wilt thou win that Treasure of Gold + And be more than the Kings of the earth? Wilt thou rid the earth of a wrong + And heal the woe and the sorrow my heart hath endured o'erlong?" + + Then Sigurd looked upon him with steadfast eyes and clear, + And Regin drooped and trembled as he stood the doom to hear: + But the bright child spake as aforetime, and answered the Master and said: + "Thou shalt have thy will, and the Treasure, and take the curse on thine + head." + + +_Of the forging of the Sword that is called The Wrath of Sigurd._ + + * * * * * + + But when the morrow was come he went to his mother and spake: + "The shards, the shards of the sword, that thou gleanedst for my sake + In the night on the field of slaughter, in the tide when my father fell, + Hast thou kept them through sorrow and joyance? hast thou warded them trusty + and well? + Where hast thou laid them, my mother?" + Then she looked upon him and said: + "Art thou wroth, O Sigurd my son, that such eyes are in thine head? + And wilt thou be wroth with thy mother? do I withstand thee at all?" + + "Nay," said he, "nought am I wrathful, but the days rise up like a wall + Betwixt my soul and the deeds, and I strive to rend them through. + + * * * * * + + "Now give me the sword, my mother, that Sigmund gave thee to keep." + + She said: "I shall give it thee gladly, for fain shall I be of thy praise + When thou knowest my careful keeping of that hope of the earlier days." + + So she took his hand in her hand, and they went their ways, they twain; + Till they came to the treasure of queen-folk, the guarded chamber of gain: + They were all alone with its riches, and she turned the key in the gold, + And lifted the sea-born purple, and the silken web unrolled, + And lo, 'twixt her hands and her bosom the shards of Sigmund's sword; + No rust-fleck stained its edges, and the gems of the ocean's hoard + Were as bright in the hilts and glorious, as when in the Volsungs' hall + It shone in the eyes of the earl-folk and flashed from the shielded wall. + + But Sigurd smiled upon it, and he said: "O Mother of Kings, + Well hast thou warded the war-glaive for a mirror of many things, + And a hope of much fulfilment: well hast thou given to me + The message of my fathers, and the word of thing to be: + Trusty hath been thy warding, but its hour is over now: + These shards shall be knit together, and shall hear the war-wind blow." + + * * * * * + + Then she felt his hands about her as he took the fateful sword, + And he kissed her soft and sweetly; but she answered never a word: + + * * * * * + + But swift on his ways went Sigurd, and to Regin's house he came, + Where the Master stood in the doorway and behind him leapt the flame, + And dark he looked and little: no more his speech was sweet, + No words on his lip were gathered the Volsung child to greet, + Till he took the sword from Sigurd and the shards of the days of old; + Then he spake: + "Will nothing serve thee save this blue steel and cold, + The bane of thy father's father, the fate of all his kin, + The baleful blade I fashioned, the Wrath that the Gods would win?" + + Then answered the eye-bright Sigurd: "If thou thy craft wilt do, + Nought save these battle-gleanings shall be my helper true:" + +So Regin welded together the shards of Sigmund's sword, and wrought +the Wrath of Sigurd, whose hilts were great and along whose edge ran a +living flame so that men thought it like sunlight and lightning +mingled. Then on Greyfell, with the Wrath girt by his side, Sigurd +rode to the hall of Gripir, who told him of deeds to be and of the +fate that would befall him. In no wise was Sigurd troubled, but smiled +as a happy child, and together they talked of the deeds of the kings +of the Earth, of the wonders of Heaven, and of the Queen of the Sea. + +And Sigurd told Gripir that he indeed was wise above all men, but for +himself had the Wrath been fashioned, and he was ready to ride to the +Glittering Heath. So they took leave of one another, and as the sky grew +blood-red in the West, and the birds were flying homeward, Sigurd drew +near to Regin's dwelling. + + +_Sigurd rideth to the Glittering Heath._ + + Again on the morrow morning doth Sigurd the Volsung ride, + And Regin, the Master of Masters, is faring by his side, + And they leave the dwelling of kings and ride the summer land, + Until at the eve of the day the hills are on either hand; + Then they wend up higher and higher, and over the heaths they fare + Till the moon shines broad on the midnight, and they sleep 'neath the + heavens bare; + And they waken and look behind them, and lo, the dawning of day + And the little land of the Helper and its valleys far away; + But the mountains rise before them, a wall exceeding great. + + Then spake the Master of Masters: "We have come to the garth and the gate; + There is youth and rest behind thee and many a thing to do, + There is many a fond desire, and each day born anew; + And the land of the Volsungs to conquer, and many a people's praise: + And for me there is rest it may be, and the peaceful end of days. + We have come to the garth and the gate; to the hall-door now shall we win, + Shall we go to look on the high-seat and see what sitteth therein?" + + "Yea, and what else?" said Sigurd, "was thy tale but mockeries, + And have I been drifted hither on a wind of empty lies?" + + "It was sooth, it was sooth," said Regin, "and more might I have told + Had I heart and space to remember the deeds of the days of old." + + * * * * * + + Day-long they fared through the mountains, and that highway's fashioner, + Forsooth, was a fearful craftsman, and his hands the waters were, + And the heaped-up ice was his mattock, and the fire-blast was his man, + And never a whit he heeded though his walls were waste and wan, + And the guest-halls of that wayside great heaps of the ashes spent. + But, each as a man alone, through the sun-bright day they went, + And they rode till the moon rose upward, and the stars were small and fair, + Then they slept on the long-slaked ashes beneath the heavens bare; + And the cold dawn came and they wakened, and the King of the Dwarf-kind + seemed + As a thing of that wan land fashioned; but Sigurd glowed and gleamed + Amid a shadowless twilight by Greyfell's cloudy flank, + As a little space they abided while the latest star-world shrank; + On the backward road looked Regin and heard how Sigurd drew + The girths of Greyfell's saddle, and the voice of his sword he knew, + + * * * * * + + And his war-gear clanged and tinkled as he leapt to the saddle-stead: + And the sun rose up at their backs and the grey world changed to red, + And away to the west went Sigurd by the glory wreathed about, + But little and black was Regin as a fire that dieth out. + Day-long they rode the mountains by the crags exceeding old, + And the ash that the first of the Dwarf-kind found dull and quenched and + cold. + Then the moon in the mid-sky swam, and the stars were fair and pale, + And beneath the naked heaven they slept in an ash-grey dale; + And again at the dawn-dusk's ending they stood upon their feet, + And Sigurd donned his war-gear nor his eyes would Regin meet. + + A clear streak widened in heaven low down above the earth; + And above it lay the cloud-flecks, and the sun, anigh its birth, + Unseen, their hosts was staining with the very hue of blood, + And ruddy by Greyfell's shoulder the Son of Sigmund stood. + + Then spake the Master of Masters: "What is thine hope this morn + That thou dightest thee, O Sigurd, to ride this world forlorn?" + + "What needeth hope," said Sigurd, "when the heart of the Volsungs turns + To the light of the Glittering Heath, and the house where the Waster burns? + I shall slay the Foe of the Gods, as thou badst me a while agone, + And then with the Gold and its wisdom shalt thou be left alone." + + "O Child," said the King of the Dwarf-kind, "when the day at last comes + round + For the dread and the Dusk of the Gods, and the kin of the Wolf is unbound, + When thy sword shall hew the fire, and the wildfire beateth thy shield, + Shalt thou praise the wages of hope and the Gods that pitched the field?" + + "O Foe of the Gods," said Sigurd, "wouldst thou hide the evil thing, + And the curse that is greater than thou, lest death end thy labouring, + Lest the night should come upon thee amidst thy toil for nought? + It is me, it is me that thou fearest, if indeed I know thy thought; + Yea me, who would utterly light the face of all good and ill, + If not with the fruitful beams that the summer shall fulfill, + Then at least with the world a-blazing, and the glare of the grinded sword. + + * * * * * + + "I have hearkened not nor heeded the words of thy fear and thy ruth: + Thou hast told thy tale and thy longing, and thereto I hearkened well:-- + Let it lead thee up to heaven, let it lead thee down to hell, + The deed shall be done tomorrow: thou shalt have that measureless Gold, + And devour the garnered wisdom that blessed thy realm of old, + That hath lain unspent and begrudged in the very heart of hate: + With the blood and the might of thy brother thine hunger shalt thou sate; + And this deed shall be mine and thine; but take heed for what followeth + then! + Let each do after his kind! I shall do the deeds of men; + I shall harvest the field of their sowing, in the bed of their strewing + shall sleep; + To them shall I give my life-days, to the Gods my glory to keep. + But them with the wealth and the wisdom that the best of the Gods might + praise, + If thou shall indeed excel them and become the hope of the days, + Then me in turn hast thou conquered, and I shall be in turn + Thy fashioned brand of the battle through good and evil to burn, + Or the flame that sleeps in thy stithy for the gathered winds to blow, + When thou listest to do and undo and thine uttermost cunning to show. + But indeed I wot full surely that thou shalt follow thy kind; + And for all that cometh after, the Norns shall loose and bind." + + Then his bridle-reins rang sweetly, and the warding-walls of death, + And Regin drew up to him, and the Wrath sang loud in the sheath, + And forth from that trench in the mountains by the westward way they ride; + And little and black goes Regin by the golden Volsung's side; + + * * * * * + + So ever they wended upward, and the midnight hour was o'er, + And the stars grew pale and paler, and failed from the heaven's floor, + And the moon was a long while dead, but where was the promise of day? + No change came over the darkness, no streak of the dawning grey; + No sound of the wind's uprising adown the night there ran: + It was blind as the Gaping Gulf ere the first of the worlds began. + + Then athwart and athwart rode Sigurd and sought the walls of the pass, + But found no wall before him; and the road rang hard as brass + Beneath the hoofs of Greyfell, as up and up he trod: + --Was it the daylight of Hell, or the night of the doorway of God? + But lo, at the last a glimmer, and a light from the west there came, + And another and another, like points of far-off flame; + And they grew and brightened and gathered; and whiles together they ran + Like the moonwake over the waters; and whiles they were scant and wan, + Some greater and some lesser, like the boats of fishers laid + About the sea of midnight; and a dusky dawn they made, + A faint and glimmering twilight: So Sigurd strains his eyes, + And he sees how a land deserted all round about him lies + More changeless than mid-ocean, as fruitless as its floor: + Then the heart leaps up within him, for he knows that his journey is o'er, + And there he draweth bridle on the first of the Glittering Heath: + And the Wrath is waxen merry and sings in the golden sheath + As he leaps adown from Greyfell, and stands upon his feet, + And wends his ways through the twilight the Foe of the Gods to meet. + + +_Sigurd slayeth Fafnir the Serpent._ + + Nought Sigurd seeth of Regin, and nought he heeds of him, + As in watchful might and glory he strides the desert dim, + And behind him paceth Greyfell; but he deems the time o'erlong + Till he meet the great gold-warden, the over-lord of wrong. + + So he wendeth midst the silence through the measureless desert place, + And beholds the countless glitter with wise and steadfast face, + Till him-seems in a little season that the flames grown somewhat wan, + And a grey thing glimmers before him, and becomes a mighty man, + One-eyed and ancient-seeming, in cloud-grey raiment clad; + A friendly man and glorious, and of visage smiling-glad: + Then content in Sigurd groweth because of his majesty, + And he heareth him speak in the desert as the wind of the winter sea: + + "Hail Sigurd! Give me thy greeting ere thy ways alone thou wend!" + + Said Sigurd: "Hail! I greet thee, my friend and my fathers' friend." + + "Now whither away," said the elder, "with the Steed and the ancient Sword?" + + "To the greedy house," said Sigurd, "and the King of the Heavy Hoard." + + "Wilt thou smite, O Sigurd, Sigurd?" said the ancient mighty-one. + + "Yea, yea, I shall smite," said the Volsung, "save the Gods have slain the + sun." + + "What wise wilt thou smite," said the elder, "lest the dark devour thy day?" + + "Thou hast praised the sword," said the child, "and the sword shall find a + way." + + "Be learned of me," said the Wise-one, "for I was the first of thy folk." + + Said the child: "I shall do thy bidding, and for thee shall I strike the + stroke." + + Spake the Wise-one: "Thus shalt thou do when thou wendest hence alone: + Thou shalt find a path in the desert, and a road in the world of stone; + It is smooth and deep and hollow, but the rain hath riven it not, + And the wild wind hath not worn it, for it is but Fafnir's slot, + Whereby he wends to the water and the fathomless pool of old, + When his heart in the dawn is weary, and he loathes the ancient Gold: + There think of the great and the fathers, and bare the whetted Wrath, + And dig a pit in the highway, and a grave in the Serpent's path: + Lie thou therein, O Sigurd, and thine hope from the glooming hide, + And be as the dead for a season, and the living light abide! + And so shall thine heart avail thee, and thy mighty fateful hand, + And the Light that lay in the Branstock, the well-beloved brand." + + Said the child: "I shall do thy bidding, and for thee shall I strike the + stroke; + For I love thee, friend of my fathers, Wise Heart of the holy folk." + + So spake the Son of Sigmund, and beheld no man anear, + And again was the night the midnight, and the twinkling flame shone clear + In the hush of the Glittering Heath; and alone went Sigmund's son + Till he came to the road of Fafnir, and the highway worn by one, + By the drift of the rain unfurrowed, by the windy years unrent, + And forth from the dark it came, and into the dark it went. + + Great then was the heart of Sigurd, for there in the midmost he stayed, + And thought of the ancient fathers, and bared the bright blue blade, + That shone as a fleck of the day-light, and the night was all around. + Fair then was the Son of Sigmund as he toiled and laboured the ground; + Great, mighty he was in his working, and the Glittering Heath he clave, + And the sword shone blue before him as he dug the pit and the grave: + There he hid his hope from the night-tide and lay like one of the dead, + And wise and wary he bided; and the heavens hung over his head. + + Now the night wanes over Sigurd, and the ruddy rings he sees, + And his war-gear's fair adornment, and the God-folk's images; + But a voice in the desert ariseth, a sound in the waste has birth, + A changing tinkle and clatter, as of gold dragged over the earth: + O'er Sigurd widens the day-light, and the sound is drawing close, + And speedier than the trample of speedy feet it goes; + But ever deemeth Sigurd that the sun brings back the day, + For the grave grows lighter and lighter and heaven o'erhead is grey. + + But now, how the rattling waxeth till he may not heed nor hark! + And the day and the heavens are hidden, and o'er Sigurd rolls the dark, + As the flood of a pitchy river, and heavy-thick is the air + With the venom of hate long hoarded, and lies once fashioned fair: + Then a wan face comes from the darkness, and is wrought in man-like wise, + And the lips are writhed with laughter and bleared are the blinded eyes; + And it wandereth hither and thither, and searcheth through the grave + And departeth, leaving nothing, save the dark, rolled wave on wave + O'er the golden head of Sigurd and the edges of the sword, + And the world weighs heavy on Sigurd, and the weary curse of the Hoard; + Him-seemed the grave grew straiter, and his hope of life grew chill, + And his heart by the Worm was enfolded, and the bonds of the Ancient Ill. + + Then was Sigurd stirred by his glory, and he strove with the swaddling of + Death; + He turned in the pit on the highway, and the grave of the Glittering Heath; + He laughed and smote with the laughter and thrust up over his head. + And smote the venom asunder and clave the heart of Dread; + Then he leapt from the pit and the grave, and the rushing river of blood, + And fulfilled with the joy of the War-God on the face of earth he stood + With red sword high uplifted, with wrathful glittering eyes; + And he laughed at the heavens above him for he saw the sun arise, + And Sigurd gleamed on the desert, and shone in the new-born light, + And the wind in his raiment wavered, and all the world was bright. + + But there was the ancient Fafnir, and the Face of Terror lay + On the huddled folds of the Serpent, that were black and ashen-grey + In the desert lit by the sun; and those twain looked each on each, + And forth from the Face of Terror went a sound of dreadful speech: + + "Child, child, who art thou that hast smitten? bright child, of whence is + thy birth?" + + "I am called the Wild-thing Glorious, and alone I wend on the earth." + + * * * * * + + "What master hath taught thee of murder?--Thou hast wasted Fafnir's day." + + "I, Sigurd, knew and desired, and the bright sword learned the way." + + * * * * * + + "I am blind, O Strong Compeller, in the bonds of Death and Hell. + But thee shall the rattling Gold and the red rings bring unto bane." + + "Yet the rings mine hand shall scatter, and the earth shall gather again." + + "Woe, woe! in the days passed over I bore the Helm of Dread, + I reared the Face of Terror, and the hoarded hate of the Dead: + I overcame and was mighty; I was wise and cherished my heart + In the waste where no man wandered, and the high house builded apart: + Till I met thine hand, O Sigurd, and thy might ordained from of old; + And I fought and fell in the morning, and I die far off from the Gold." + + * * * * * + + Then all sank into silence, and the Son of Sigmund stood + On the torn and furrowed desert by the pool of Fafnir's blood, + And the Serpent lay before him, dead, chilly, dull, and grey; + And over the Glittering Heath fair shone the sun and the day, + And a light wind followed the sun and breathed o'er the fateful place, + As fresh as it furrows the sea-plain or bows the acres' face. + + +_Sigurd slayeth Regin the Master of Masters on the Glittering Heath._ + + There standeth Sigurd the Volsung, and leaneth on his sword, + And beside him now is Greyfell and looks on his golden lord, + And the world is awake and living; and whither now shall they wend, + Who have come to the Glittering Heath, and wrought that deed to its end? + For hither comes Regin the Master from the skirts of the field of death. + + * * * * * + + Afoot he went o'er the desert, and he came unto Sigurd and stared + At the golden gear of the man, and the Wrath yet bloody and bared, + And the light locks raised by the wind, and the eyes beginning to smile, + And the lovely lips of the Volsung, and the brow that knew no guile; + And he murmured under his breath while his eyes grew white with wrath: + + "O who art thou, and wherefore, and why art thou in the path?" + + Then he turned to the ash-grey Serpent, and grovelled low on the ground, + And he drank of that pool of the blood where the stones of the wild were + drowned, + And long he lapped as a dog; but when he arose again, + Lo, a flock of the mountain-eagles that drew to the feastful plain; + And he turned and looked on Sigurd, as bright in the sun he stood, + A stripling fair and slender, and wiped the Wrath of the blood. + + * * * * * + + Then he scowled and crouched and darkened, and came to Sigurd and spake: + "O child, thou hast slain my brother, and the Wrath is alive and awake." + + "Thou sayest sooth," said Sigurd, "thy deed and mine is done: + But now our ways shall sunder, for here, meseemeth, the sun + Hath but little of deeds to do, and no love to win aback." + + * * * * * + + But Regin darkened before him, and exceeding grim was he grown, + And he spake: "Thou hast slain my brother, and wherewith wilt thou atone?" + + "Stand up, O Master," said Sigurd, "O Singer of ancient days, + And take the wealth I have won thee, ere we wend on the sundering ways. + I have toiled and thou hast desired, and the Treasure is surely anear, + And thou hast wisdom to find it, and I have slain thy fear." + + But Regin crouched and darkened: "Thou hast slain my brother," he said. + + "Take thou the Gold," quoth Sigurd, "for the ransom of my head!" + + Then Regin crouched and darkened, and over the earth he hung; + And he said: "Thou hast slain my brother, and the Gods are yet but young." + + * * * * * + + And he spake: "Thou hast slain my brother, and today shall thou be my + thrall: + Yea, a King shall be my cook-boy and this heath my cooking-hall." + + Then he crept to the ash-grey coils where the life of his brother had lain, + And he drew a glaive from his side and smote the smitten and slain, + And tore the heart from Fafnir, while the eagles cried o'erhead, + And sharp and shrill was their voice o'er the entrails of the dead. + + Then Regin spake to Sigurd: "Of this slaying wilt thou be free? + Then gather thou fire together and roast the heart for me, + That I may eat it and live, and be thy master and more; + For therein was might and wisdom, and the grudged and hoarded lore:-- + --Or else, depart on thy ways afraid from the Glittering Heath." + + Then he fell abackward and slept, nor set his sword in the sheath. + + * * * * * + + But Sigurd took the Heart, and wood on the waste he found, + The wood that grew and died, as it crept on the niggard ground, + And grew and died again, and lay like whitened bones; + And the ernes cried over his head, as he builded his hearth of stones, + And kindled the fire for cooking, and sat and sang o'er the roast + The song of his fathers of old, and the Wolflings' gathering host: + So there on the Glittering Heath rose up the little flame, + And the dry sticks crackled amidst it, and alow the eagles came, + And seven they were by tale, and they pitched all round about + The cooking-fire of Sigurd, and sent their song-speech out: + But nought he knoweth its wisdom, or the word that they would speak: + And hot grew the Heart of Fafnir and sang amid the reek. + + Then Sigurd looketh on Regin, and he deemeth it overlong + That he dighteth the dear-bought morsel, and the might for the Master of + wrong, + So he reacheth his hand to the roast to see if the cooking be o'er; + But the blood and the fat seethed from it and scalded his finger sore, + And he set his hand to his mouth to quench the fleshly smart, + And he tasted the flesh of the Serpent and the blood of Fafnir's Heart: + Then there came a change upon him, for the speech of fowl he knew, + And wise in the ways of the beast-kind as the Dwarfs of old he grew; + And he knitted his brows and hearkened, and wrath in his heart arose + For he felt beset of evil in a world of many foes. + But the hilts of the Wrath he handled, and Regin's heart he saw, + And how that the Foe of the Gods the net of death would draw; + And his bright eyes flashed and sparkled, and his mouth grew set and stern + As he hearkened the voice of the eagles, and their song began to learn. + +And six of the eagles cried to Sigurd not to tarry before the feast, and +they urged him to kill Regin, who had planned Fafnir's death that he +alone might live and fashion the world after his evil will. + + And the seventh: "Arise, O Sigurd, lest the hour be overlate! + For the sun in the mid-noon shineth, and swift is the hand of Fate: + Arise! lest the world run backward and the blind heart have its will, + And once again be tangled the sundered good and ill; + Lest love and hatred perish, lest the world forget its tale, + And the Gods sit deedless, dreaming, in the high-walled heavenly vale." + + Then swift ariseth Sigurd, and the Wrath in his hand is bare, + And he looketh, and Regin sleepeth, and his eyes wide-open glare; + But his lips smile false in his dreaming, and his hand is on the sword; + For he dreams himself the Master and the new world's fashioning-lord, + And his dream hath forgotten Sigurd, and the King's life lies in the pit; + He is nought; Death gnaweth upon him, while the Dwarfs in mastery sit. + + But lo, how the eyes of Sigurd the heart of the guileful behold, + And great is Allfather Odin, and upriseth the Curse of the Gold, + And the Branstock bloometh to heaven from the ancient wondrous root; + The summer hath shone on its blossoms, and Sigurd's Wrath is the fruit. + + * * * * * + + Then his second stroke struck Sigurd, for the Wrath flashed thin and white, + And 'twixt head and trunk of Regin fierce ran the fateful light; + And there lay brother by brother a faded thing and wan. + But Sigurd cried in the desert: "So far have I wended on! + Dead are the foes of God-home that would blend the good and the ill; + And the World shall yet be famous, and the Gods shall have their will. + Nor shall I be dead and forgotten, while the earth grows worse and worse, + With the blind heart king o'er the people, and binding curse with curse." + + +_How Sigurd took to him the Treasure of the Elf Andvari._ + +So Sigurd ate of the heart of Fafnir, and as he ate the longing to be +gone to mighty deeds grew great, and he leapt on Greyfell and sought the +home of the Dweller amid the Gold on the edge of the heath. He strode +through the doorway, and before him lay golden armour, golden coins, +and golden sands from rivers that none but the Dwarfs could mine. But +more wonderful than all other treasures were the Helm of Aweing, and the +Hauberk all of gold, while on top of the midmost heap, gleaming like +the brightest star in the sky, lay the ring of Andvari. + +Sigurd put on the helm and the hauberk, and dragged out gold wherewith he +loaded Greyfell till the cloud-grey horse shone, while the eagles ever +bade him bring forth the treasure, and let the gold shine in the open. +And as the stars paled and the dawn grew clearer, Sigurd and Greyfell +passed swiftly and lightly towards the west. + + +_How Sigurd awoke Brynhild upon Hindfell._ + + By long roads rideth Sigurd amidst that world of stone, + And somewhat south he turneth; for he would not be alone, + But longs for the dwellings of man-folk, and the kingly people's speech, + And the days of the glee and the joyance, where men laugh each to each. + But still the desert endureth, and afar must Greyfell fare + From the wrack of the Glittering Heath, and Fafnir's golden lair. + Long Sigurd rideth the waste, when, lo, on a morning of day + From out of the tangled crag-walls, amidst the cloud-land grey + Comes up a mighty mountain, and it is as though there burns + A torch amidst of its cloud-wreath; so thither Sigurd turns, + For he deems indeed from its topmost to look on the best of the earth; + And Greyfell neigheth beneath him, and his heart is full of mirth. + + * * * * * + + Night falls, but yet rides Sigurd, and hath no thought of rest, + For he longs to climb that rock-world and behold the earth at its best; + But now mid the maze of the foot-hills he seeth the light no more, + And the stars are lovely and gleaming on the lightless heavenly floor. + So up and up he wendeth till the night is wearing thin; + And he rideth a rift of the mountain, and all is dark therein, + Till the stars are dimmed by dawning and the wakening world is cold; + Then afar in the upper rock-wall a breach doth he behold, + And a flood of light poured inward the doubtful dawning blinds: + So swift he rideth thither and the mouth of the breach he finds, + And sitteth awhile on Greyfell on the marvellous thing to gaze: + For lo, the side of Hindfell enwrapped by the fervent blaze, + And nought 'twixt earth and heaven save a world of flickering flame, + And a hurrying shifting tangle, where the dark rents went and came. + + Great groweth the heart of Sigurd with uttermost desire, + And he crieth kind to Greyfell, and they hasten up, and nigher, + Till he draweth rein in the dawning on the face of Hindfell's steep: + But who shall heed the dawning where the tongues of that wildfire leap? + For they weave a wavering wall, that driveth over the heaven + The wind that is born within it; nor ever aside is it driven + By the mightiest wind of the waste, and the rain-flood amidst it is nought; + And no wayfarer's door and no window the hand of its builder hath wrought. + But thereon is the Volsung smiling as its breath uplifteth his hair, + And his eyes shine bright with its image, and his mail gleams white and + fair, + And his war-helm pictures the heavens and the waning stars behind: + But his neck is Greyfell stretching to snuff at the flame-wall blind, + And his cloudy flank upheaveth, and tinkleth the knitted mail, + And the gold of the uttermost waters is waxen wan and pale. + + Now Sigurd turns in his saddle, and the hilt of the Wrath he shifts, + And draws a girth the tighter; then the gathered reins he lifts, + And crieth aloud to Greyfell, and rides at the wildfire's heart; + But the white wall wavers before him and the flame-flood rusheth apart, + And high o'er his head it riseth, and wide and wild is its roar + As it beareth the mighty tidings to the very heavenly floor: + But he rideth through its roaring as the warrior rides the rye, + When it bows with the wind of the summer and the hid spears draw anigh. + The white flame licks his raiment and sweeps through Greyfell's mane, + And bathes both hands of Sigurd and the hilts of Fafnir's bane, + And winds about his war-helm and mingles with his hair, + But nought his raiment dusketh or dims his glittering gear; + Then it fails and fades and darkens till all seems left behind, + And dawn and the blaze is swallowed in mid-mirk stark and blind. + + But forth a little further and a little further on + And all is calm about him, and he sees the scorched earth wan + Beneath a glimmering twilight, and he turns his conquering eyes, + And a ring of pale slaked ashes on the side of Hindfell lies; + And the world of the waste is beyond it; and all is hushed and grey, + And the new-risen moon is a-paleing, and the stars grow faint with day. + + Then Sigurd looked before him and a Shield-burg there he saw, + A wall of the tiles of Odin wrought clear without a flaw, + The gold by the silver gleaming, and the ruddy by the white; + And the blazonings of their glory were done upon them bright. + As of dear things wrought for the war-lords new come to Odin's hall. + Piled high aloft to the heavens uprose that battle-wall, + And far o'er the topmost shield-rim for a banner of fame there hung + A glorious golden buckler; and against the staff it rung + As the earliest wind of dawning uprose on Hindfell's face + And the light from the yellow east beamed soft on the shielded place. + + But the Wrath cried out in answer as Sigurd leapt adown + To the wasted soil of the desert by that rampart of renown; + He looked but little beneath it, and the dwelling of God it seemed, + As against its gleaming silence the eager Sigurd gleamed: + He draweth not sword from scabbard, as the wall he wendeth around, + And it is but the wind and Sigurd that wakeneth any sound: + But, lo, to the gate he cometh, and the doors are open wide, + And no warder the way withstandeth, and no earls by the threshold abide. + So he stands awhile and marvels; then the baleful light of the Wrath + Gleams bare in his ready hand as he wendeth the inward path: + For he doubteth some guile of the Gods, or perchance some Dwarf-king's + snare, + Or a mock of the Giant people that shall fade in the morning air: + But he getteth him in and gazeth; and a wall doth he behold, + And the ruddy set by the white, and the silver by the gold; + But within the garth that it girdeth no work of man is set, + But the utmost head of Hindfell ariseth higher yet; + And below in the very midmost is a Giant-fashioned mound, + Piled high as the rims of the Shield-burg above the level ground; + And there, on that mound of the Giants, o'er the wilderness forlorn, + A pale grey image lieth, and gleameth in the morn. + + So there was Sigurd alone; and he went from the shielded door, + And aloft in the desert of wonder the Light of the Branstock he bore; + And he set his face to the earth-mound, and beheld the image wan, + And the dawn was growing about it; and, lo, the shape of a man + Set forth to the eyeless desert on the tower-top of the world, + High over the cloud-wrought castle whence the windy bolts are hurled. + + * * * * * + + Now over the body he standeth, and seeth it shapen fair, + And clad from head to foot-sole in pale grey-glittering gear, + In a hauberk wrought as straitly as though to the flesh it were grown: + But a great helm hideth the head and is girt with a glittering crown. + + So thereby he stoopeth and kneeleth, for he deems it were good indeed + If the breath of life abide there and the speech to help at need; + And as sweet as the summer wind from a garden under the sun + Cometh forth on the topmost Hindfell the breath of that sleeping-one. + Then he saith he will look on the face, if it bear him love or hate, + Or the bonds for his life's constraining, or the sundering doom of fate. + So he draweth the helm from the head, and, lo, the brow snow-white, + And the smooth unfurrowed cheeks, and the wise lips breathing light; + And the face of a woman it is, and the fairest that ever was born, + Shown forth to the empty heavens and the desert world forlorn: + But he looketh, and loveth her sore, and he longeth her spirit to move, + And awaken her heart to the world, that she may behold him and love. + And he toucheth her breast and her hands, and he loveth her passing sore. + And he saith: "Awake! I am Sigurd;" but she moveth never the more. + Then he looked on his bare bright blade, and he said: "Thou--what wilt thou + do? + For indeed as I came by the war-garth thy voice of desire I knew." + Bright burnt the pale blue edges for the sunrise drew anear, + And the rims of the Shield-burg glittered, and the east was exceeding clear: + So the eager edges he setteth to the Dwarf-wrought battle-coat + Where the hammered ring-knit collar constraineth the woman's throat; + But the sharp Wrath biteth and rendeth, and before it fail the rings, + And, lo, the gleam of the linen, and the light of golden things: + Then he driveth the blue steel onward, and through the skirt, and out, + Till nought but the rippling linen is wrapping her about; + Then he deems her breath comes quicker and her breast begins to heave, + So he turns about the War-Flame and rends down either sleeve, + Till her arms lie white in her raiment, and a river of sun-bright hair + Flows free o'er bosom and shoulder and floods the desert bare. + + Then a flush cometh over her visage and a sigh up-heaveth her breast, + And her eyelids quiver and open, and she wakeneth into rest; + Wide-eyed on the dawning she gazeth, too glad to change or smile, + And but little moveth her body, nor speaketh she yet for a while; + And yet kneels Sigurd moveless her wakening speech to heed, + While soft the waves of the daylight o'er the starless heavens speed, + And the gleaming rims of the Shield-burg yet bright and brighter grow, + And the thin moon hangeth her horns dead-white in the golden glow. + + Then she turned and gazed on Sigurd, and her eyes met the Volsung's eyes. + And mighty and measureless now did the tide of his love arise, + For their longing had met and mingled, and he knew of her heart that she + loved, + As she spake unto nothing but him and her lips with the speech-flood moved: + + "O, what is the thing so mighty that my weary sleep hath torn, + And rent the fallow bondage, and the wan woe over-worn?" + + He said: "The hand of Sigurd and the Sword of Sigmund's son, + And the heart that the Volsungs fashioned this deed for thee have done." + But she said: "Where then is Odin that laid me here alow? + Long lasteth the grief of the world, and manfolk's tangled woe!" + + "He dwelleth above," said Sigurd, "but I on the earth abide, + And I came from the Glittering Heath the waves of thy fire to ride." + + * * * * * + + Then Sigurd looketh upon her, and the words from his heart arise: + "Thou art the fairest of earth, and the wisest of the wise; + O who art thou that lovest? I am Sigurd, e'en as I told; + I have slain the Foe of the Gods, and gotten the Ancient Gold; + And great were the gain of thy love, and the gift of mine earthly days, + If we twain should never sunder as we wend on the changing ways. + O who art thou that lovest, thou fairest of all things born? + And what meaneth thy sleep and thy slumber in the wilderness forlorn?" + +Then the maiden told him that she had been the handmaid of the +All-father, but that she grew too proud, and Odin had sent her to +Hindfell, where the sleep thorn pierced her that she might sleep till +she found the fearless heart she would wed. Such a one had she found +now, and many were the words of prophetic wisdom and warning that +fell from her lips on the ears of Sigurd. + +But many though they were they were not enough for him, who prayed +her to speak with him more of Wisdom. + +So together they sat on the side of Hindfell and talked of all that is +and can be, and then together they climbed the mountain, till beneath +them they saw the kingdoms of the earth stretching far away, and +Brynhild bade him look down on her home, saying: + + "Yet I bid thee look on the land 'twixt the wood and the silver sea + In the bight of the swirling river, and the house that cherished me! + There dwelleth mine earthly sister and the king that she hath wed; + There morn by morn aforetime I woke on the golden bed; + There eve by eve I tarried mid the speech and the lays of kings; + There noon by noon I wandered and plucked the blossoming things; + The little land of Lymdale by the swirling river's side, + Where Brynhild once was I called in the days ere my father died; + The little land of Lymdale 'twixt the woodland and the sea, + Where on thee mine eyes shall brighten and thine eyes shall beam on me." + + "I shall seek thee there," said Sigurd, "when the day-spring is begun, + Ere we wend the world together in the season of the sun." + + "I shall bide thee there," said Brynhild, "till the fulness of the days, + And the time for the glory appointed, and the springing-tide of praise." + + From his hand then draweth Sigurd Andvari's ancient Gold; + There is nought but the sky above them as the ring together they hold, + The shapen ancient token, that hath no change nor end, + No change, and no beginning, no flaw for God to mend: + Then Sigurd cries: "O Brynhild, now hearken while I swear, + That the sun shall die in the heavens and the day no more be fair, + If I seek not love in Lymdale and the house that fostered thee, + And the land where thou awakedst 'twixt the woodland and the sea!" + + And she cried: "O Sigurd, Sigurd, now hearken while I swear + That the day shall die for ever and the sun to blackness wear, + Ere I forget thee, Sigurd, as I lie 'twixt wood and sea + In the little land of Lymdale and the house that fostered me!" + + Then he set the ring on her finger and once, if ne'er again, + They kissed and clung together, and their hearts were full and fain. + + * * * * * + + + + +BOOK III. + +BRYNHILD. + + +_Of Sigurd's riding to the Niblungs._ + + +Now Brynhild and Sigurd left Hindfell, and Brynhild went to dwell in +her sister's house, but Sigurd abode not long in the land of Lymdale, +for his love urged him to great adventures wherein he might win glory +befitting the man who should wed so noble a woman as Brynhild. + +So it befell one day in summer that he dight himself in the Helm of +Aweing and the Mail-coat all of gold, and girded the Wrath to his side +to ride forth again. And on his saddle he bound the red rings of +Fafnir's Treasure. + +Then he kissed the ancient King Heimir, and hailed the folk of the +land who came to give him god-speed. + + And he gathered the reins together, and set his face to the road, + And the glad steed neighed beneath him as they fared from the King's abode. + And out past the dewy closes; but the shouts went up to the sky, + Though some for very sorrow forbore the farewell cry, + Nor was any man but heavy that the godlike guest should go; + And they craved for that glad heart guileless, and that face without a foe. + + * * * * * + + But forth by dale and lealand doth the Son of Sigmund wend, + Till far away lies Lymdale and the folk of the forest's end; + And he rides a heath unpeopled and holds the westward way, + Till a long way off before him come up the mountains grey; + Grey, huge beyond all telling, and the host of the heaped clouds, + The black and the white together, on that rock-wall's coping crowds. + + * * * * * + + So up and down he rideth, till at even of the day + A hill's brow he o'ertoppeth that had hid the mountains grey; + Huge, blacker they showed than aforetime, white hung the cloud-flecks there, + But red was the cloudy crown, for the sun was sinking fair: + A wide plain lay beneath him, and a river through it wound + Betwixt the lea and the acres, and the misty orchard ground; + But forth from the feet of the mountains a ridged hill there ran + That upreared at its hithermost ending a builded burg of man; + And Sigurd deemed in his heart as he looked on the burg from afar, + That the high Gods scarce might win it, if thereon they fell with war; + So many and great were the walls, so bore the towers on high + The threat of guarded battle, and the tale of victory. + + * * * * * + + For as waves on the iron river of the days whereof nothing is told + Stood up the many towers, so stark and sharp and cold; + But dark-red and worn and ancient as the midmost mountain-sides + Is the wall that goeth about them; and its mighty compass hides + Full many a dwelling of man whence the reek now goeth aloft, + And the voice of the house-abiders, the sharp sounds blent with the soft: + But one house in the midst is unhidden and high up o'er the wall it goes; + Aloft in the wind of the mountains its golden roof-ridge glows, + And down mid its buttressed feet is the wind's voice never still; + And the day and the night pass o'er it and it changes to their will, + And whiles is it glassy and dark, and whiles is it white and dead, + And whiles is it grey as the sea-mead, and whiles is it angry red; + And it shimmers under the sunshine and grows black to the threat of the + storm, + And dusk its gold roof glimmers when the rain-clouds over it swarm, + And bright in the first of the morning its flame doth it uplift, + When the light clouds rend before it and along its furrows drift. + +Then Sigurd's heart was glad as he beheld the city, and after a while +he came to a gate-way set in the northern wall, and the gate was long +and dark as a sea-cave. But no man stayed him as he rode through the +dusk to the inner court-yard, and saw the lofty roof of the hall +before him, cold now and grey like a very cloud, for the sun was +fully set. But in the towers watch-men were calling one to another. +To them he cried, saying:-- + + "Ho, men of this mighty burg, to what folk of the world am I come? + And who is the King of battles who dwells in this lordly home? + Or perchance are ye of the Elf-kin? are ye guest-fain, kind at the board, + Or murder-churls and destroyers to gain and die by the sword?" + Then the spears in the forecourt glittered and the swords shone over the + wall, + But the song of smitten harp-strings came faint from the cloudy hall. + And he hearkened a voice and a crying: "The house of Giuki the King, + And the Burg of the Niblung people and the heart of their warfaring." + There were many men about him, and the wind in the wall-nook sang, + And the spears of the Niblungs glittered, and the swords in the forecourt + rang. + But they looked on his face in the even, and they hushed their voices and + gazed, + For fear and great desire the hearts of men amazed. + + Now cometh an earl to King Giuki as he sits in godlike wise + With his sons, the Kings of battle, and his wife of the glittering eyes, + And the King cries out at his coming to tell why the watch-horns blew; + But the earl saith: "Lord of the people, choose now what thou wilt do; + For here is a strange new-comer, and he saith, to thee alone + Will he tell of his name and his kindred, and the deeds that his hand hath + done." + + * * * * * + + Then uprose the King of the Niblungs, and was clad in purple and pall, + And his sheathed sword lay in his hand, as he gat him adown the hall, + And abroad through the Niblung doorway; and a mighty man he was, + And wise and ancient of days: so there by the earls doth he pass, + And beholdeth the King on the war-steed and looketh up in his face: + But Sigurd smileth upon him in the Niblungs' fenced place, + As the King saith: "Gold-bestrider, who into our garth wouldst ride, + Wilt thou tell thy name to a King, who biddeth thee here abide + And have all good at our hands? for unto the Niblungs' home + And the heart of a war-fain people from the weary road are ye come; + And I am Giuki the King: so now if thou nam'st thee a God, + Look not to see me tremble; for I know of such that have trod + Unfeared in the Burg of the Niblungs; nor worser, nor better at all + May fare the folk of the Gods than the Kings in Giuki's hall; + So I bid thee abide in my house, and when many days are o'er, + Thou shalt tell us at last of thine errand, if thou bear us peace or war." + + Then all rejoiced at his word till the swords on the bucklers rang, + And adown from the red-gold Treasure the Son of Sigmund sprang, + And he took the hand of Giuki, and kissed him soft and sweet, + And spake: "Hail, ancient of days! for thou biddest me things most meet, + And thou knowest the good from the evil: few days are over and gone + Since my father was old in the world ere the deed of my making was won; + But Sigmund the Volsung he was, full ripe of years and of fame; + And I, who have never beheld him, am Sigurd called of name; + Too young in the world am I waxen that a tale thereof should be told, + And yet have I slain the Serpent, and gotten the Ancient Gold, + And broken the bonds of the weary, and ridden the Wavering Fire. + But short is mine errand to tell, and the end of my desire: + For peace I bear unto thee, and to all the kings of the earth, + Who bear the sword aright, and are crowned with the crown of worth; + But unpeace to the lords of evil, and the battle and the death; + And the edge of the sword to the traitor, and the flame to the slanderous + breath: + And I would that the loving were loved, and I would that the weary should + sleep, + And that man should hearken to man, and that he that soweth should reap. + Now wide in the world would I fare, to seek the dwellings of Kings, + For with them would I do and undo, and be heart of their warfarings; + So I thank thee, lord, for thy bidding, and here in thine house will I bide, + And learn of thine ancient wisdom till forth to the field we ride." + + Glad then was the murmur of folk, for the tidings had gone forth, + And its breath had been borne to the Niblungs, and the tale of Sigurd's + worth. + + But the King said: "Welcome, Sigurd, full fair of deed and of word! + And here mayst thou win thee fellows for the days of the peace and the + sword; + For not lone in the world have I lived, but sons from my loins have sprung, + Whose deeds with the rhyme are mingled, and their names with the people's + tongue." + + Then he took his hand in his hand, and into the hall they passed, + And great shouts of salutation to the cloudy roof were cast; + And they rang from the glassy pillars, and the Gods on the hangings stirred, + And afar the clustering eagles on the golden roof-ridge heard, + And cried out on the Sword of the Branstock as they cried in the other days: + Then the harps rang out in the hall, and men sang in Sigurd's praise + + * * * * * + + But now on the dais he meeteth the kin of Giuki the wise: + Lo, here is the crowned Grimhild, the queen of the glittering eyes; + Lo, here is the goodly Gunnar with the face of a king's desire; + Lo, here is Hogni that holdeth the wisdom tried in the fire; + Lo, here is Guttorm the youngest, who longs for the meeting swords; + Lo, here, as a rose in the oak-boughs, amid the Niblung lords + Is the Maid of the Niblungs standing, the white-armed Giuki's child; + And all these looked long on Sigurd and their hearts upon him smiled. + +Then all gave him greeting as one who should be their fellow in mighty +deeds, and the fair-armed Gudrun, Giuki's daughter, brought him a cup +of welcome, and that night the Niblungs feasted in gladness of heart. + + +_Of Sigurd's warfaring in the company of the Niblungs, and of his great +fame and glory._ + +So Sigurd abode with the Niblungs all through summer and harvest time +till with the stark midwinter came tidings of war. Then the earls of +Giuki donned dusky hauberks and led forth their bands from the +fortress, and the fair face and golden gear of Sigurd shone among +those swart-haired warriors. + +They fell on the cities of the plains, but none might resist the +valour of Sigurd, and the Niblungs turned in triumph from the war, +bringing rich spoil. So all that winter Sigurd fared to war with them +and grew greater in glory and more beloved of all men, but ever the +thoughts of his heart turned to Lymdale and to Brynhild who awaited +him there. + + Now sheathed is the Wrath of Sigurd; for as wax withstands the flame, + So the Kings of the land withstood him and the glory of his fame. + And before the grass is growing, or the kine have fared from the stall, + The song of the fair-speech-masters goes up in the Niblung hall, + And they sing of the golden Sigurd and the face without a foe, + And the lowly man exalted and the mighty brought alow: + And they say, when the sun of summer shall come aback to the land, + It shall shine on the fields of the tiller that fears no heavy hand; + That the sheaf shall be for the plougher, and the loaf for him that sowed, + Through every furrowed acre where the son of Sigmund rode. + + Full dear was Sigurd the Volsung to all men most and least, + And now, as the spring drew onward, 'twas deemed a goodly feast + For the acre-biders' children by the Niblung Burg to wait, + If perchance the Son of Sigmund should ride abroad by the gate: + For whosoever feared him, no little-one, forsooth, + Would shrink from the shining eyes and the hand that clave out truth + From the heart of the wrack and the battle: it was then, as his gold gear + burned + O'er the balks of the bridge and the river, that oft the mother turned, + And spake to the laughing baby: "O little son, and dear, + When I from the world am departed, and whiles a-nights ye hear + The best of man-folk longing for the least of Sigurd's days, + Thou shalt hearken to their story, till they tell forth all his praise, + And become beloved and a wonder, as thou sayest when all is sung, + 'And I too once beheld him in the days when I was young.'" + + * * * * * + + Yea, they sing the song of Sigurd and the face without a foe, + And they sing of the prison's rending and the tyrant laid alow, + And the golden thieves' abasement, and the stilling of the churl, + And the mocking of the dastard where the chasing edges whirl; + And they sing of the outland maidens that thronged round Sigurd's hand, + And sung in the streets of the foemen of the war-delivered land; + And they tell how the ships of the merchants come free and go at their will, + And how wives in peace and safety may crop the vine-clad hill; + How the maiden sits in her bower, and the weaver sings at his loom, + And forget the kings of grasping and the greedy days of gloom; + For by sea and hill and township hath the Son of Sigmund been, + And looked on the folk unheeded, and the lowly people seen. + + * * * * * + + But he stood in the sight of the people, and sweet he was to see, + And no foe and no betrayer, and no envier now hath he: + But Gunnar the bright in the battle deems him his earthly friend, + And Hogni is fain of his fellow, howso the day's work end, + And Guttorm the young is joyous of the help and gifts he hath; + And all these would shine beside him in the glory of his path; + There is none to hate or hinder, or mar the golden day, + And the light of love flows plenteous, as the sun-beams hide the way. + + +_Of the Cup of evil drink that Grimhild the Wise-wife gave to Sigurd._ + +Now Gudrun the daughter of Giuki beheld Sigurd's glory and knew the +kindness of his heart, and set her love on him, not knowing that all +his thoughts were given to Brynhild. So Sigurd, seeing her sad and in +no wise guessing the cause of her grief, strove to comfort her with +kindly words, but her mood was still unchanged. + +Then Grimhild the Queen, who was a witch-wife and a woman of crafty +mind, marked the love of Gudrun for Sigurd, and marked moreover how +his power and honour in the land would soon be greater than that of +her own sons. Therefore she cast about for some shift that might bind +Sigurd to serve with the Niblungs all his life-days. + +Now it befell one night that Sigurd had returned from warring and sat +on the high-seat to sup with the Niblung kings. His heart was merry +with victory and ever he thought of Hindfell and of Lymdale and the +love of Brynhild. The people waxed joyful, and the hangings whereon +glowed figures of the gods were stirred with their song and shouting +till Giuki called on Sigurd to take the harp and sing of deeds agone. +Then all men hearkened, hushed and happy, while Sigurd struck the +strings and sang of his mighty kin, of Volsung, of Signy, and of +Sigmund, their deeds and noble deaths. At last the tale was ended and +he fell silent thinking still of Brynhild. + +Now came Grimhild bearing him a cup of wine and speaking fair words +of praise, but in the wine she had mingled a fatal witch-drink. So +she stood by Sigurd and said:-- + + "There is none of the kings of kingdoms that may match thy goodlihead: + Lo now, thou hast sung of thy fathers; but men shall sing of thee, + And therewith shall our house be remembered, and great shall our glory be. + I beseech thee hearken a little to a faithful word of mine, + When thou of this cup hast drunken; for my love is blent with the wine." + + He laughed and took the cup: But therein with the blood of the earth + Earth's hidden might was mingled, and deeds of the cold sea's birth, + And things that the high Gods turn from, and a tangle of strange love, + Deep guile and strong compelling, that whoso drank thereof + Should remember not his longing, should cast his love away, + Remembering dead desire but as night remembereth day. + + So Sigurd looked on the horn, and he saw how fair it was scored + With the cunning of the Dwarf-kind and the masters of the sword; + And he drank and smiled on Grimhild above the beaker's rim, + And she looked and laughed at his laughter; and the soul was changed in him. + Men gazed and their hearts sank in them, and they knew not why it was, + Why the fair-lit hall was darkling, nor what had come to pass: + For they saw the sorrow of Sigurd, who had seen but his deeds erewhile, + And the face of the mighty darkened, who had known but the light of its + smile. + + But Grimhild looked and was merry: and she deemed her life was great, + And her hand a wonder of wonders to withstand the deeds of Fate: + For she saw by the face of Sigurd and the token of his eyes + That her will had abased the valiant, and filled the faithful with lies. + + * * * * * + + But the heart was changed in Sigurd; as though it ne'er had been + His love of Brynhild perished as he gazed on the Niblung Queen: + Brynhild's beloved body was e'en as a wasted hearth, + No more for bale or blessing, for plenty or for dearth. + --O ye that shall look hereafter, when the day of Sigurd is done, + And the last of his deeds is accomplished, and his eyes are shut in the sun, + When ye look and long for Sigurd, and the image of Sigurd behold, + And his white sword still as the moon, and his strong hand heavy and cold, + Then perchance shall ye think of this even, then perchance shall ye wonder + and cry, + "Twice over, King, are we smitten, and twice have we seen thee die." + + * * * * * + + Men say that a little after the evil of that night + All waste is the burg of Brynhild, and there springeth a marvellous light + On the desert hard by Lymdale, and few men know for why; + But there are, who say that a wildfire thence roareth up to the sky + Round a glorious golden dwelling, wherein there sitteth a Queen + In remembrance of the wakening, and the slumber that hath been; + Wherein a Maid there sitteth, who knows not hope nor rest + For remembrance of the Mighty, and the Best come forth from the Best. + +Now after Sigurd took the witch-drink came a great hush upon the +feast-hall for a space. But Grimhild was fain of that hour and cried +to the scalds for music, and they hastened to strike the harp, but no +joy mingled with the sounds and no man was moved to singing. + +No word spake Sigurd till the feast was over; then he strode out +alone from the hall and the folk fell back before him. So he took a +steed and all that night he rode alone in the deedless dark, and all +the morrow, very heavy at heart yet knowing no cause for grief, and +remembering all things save Brynhild. + +At last he came again at sunset to the Niblung gates, and there came +forth Giuki and Grimhild and the Niblung brethren with fair words of +greeting, but in the doorway Gudrun stood and wept. So Sigurd entered +with them, yet he knew that a flood of sorrow had come on his +life-days and that no more might he feel the joy he had known +aforetime in the Niblung hall. Howbeit, when he looked on the people +and saw them in fear at his trouble, the kindness of his heart was +kindled, and thrusting the heavy sorrow aside, he lifted his head and +spake wise words of good cheer so that the folk looking on him were +comforted. + + +_Of the Wedding of Sigurd the Volsung._ + +But Gudrun knew Sigurd's heart and was sorrowful because of his grief +and her great love for him, and when Grimhild bade her carry him wine, +she arose and took the cup but could find no word to speak for +anguish. And Sigurd looking on her face saw there a kindness and a +sorrow like his own, and seeing it he knew that she loved him. Then +pity and love for her rose in his heart and comforted him, and he +took the cup from her and spake, saying:-- + + "Here are glad men about us, and a joyous folk of war, + And they that have loved thee for long, and they that have cherished mine + heart; + But we twain alone are woeful, as sad folk sitting apart. + Ah, if I thy soul might gladden! if thy lips might give me peace! + Then belike were we gladdest of all; for I love thee more than these. + The cup of goodwill that thou bearest, and the greeting thou wouldst say, + Turn these to the cup of thy love, and the words of the troth-plighting day; + The love that endureth for ever, and the never-dying troth, + To face the Norns' undoing, and the Gods amid their wrath." + + * * * * * + + And his clear voice saith: + "O Gudrun, now hearken while I swear + That the sun shall die for ever and the day no more be fair, + Ere I forget thy pity and thine inmost heart of love! + Yea, though the Kings be mighty, and the Gods be great above, + I will wade the flood and the fire, and the waste of war forlorn, + To look on the Niblung dwelling, and the house where thou wert born." + + Strange seemed the words to Sigurd that his gathering love compelled, + And sweet and strange desire o'er his tangled trouble welled. + + But bright flashed the eyes of Gudrun, and she said: "King, as for me, + If thou sawest the heart in my bosom, what oath might better thee? + Yet my words thy words shall cherish, as thy lips my lips have done. + --Herewith I swear, O Sigurd, that the earth shall hate the sun, + And the year desire but darkness, and the blossoms shrink from day, + Ere my love shall fail, beloved, or my longing pass away!" + +So they twain went hand in hand to stand before Giuki and Grimhild +and the swart-haired Niblung brethren, and all these were +glad-hearted when they marked their joy and goodlihead. Then Sigurd +spake noble words of thanks to Giuki for all past kindness, and bade +Giuki call him son because he had that day bidden Gudrun to wife, and +he sware also to toil for her exalting and for the weal of all the +Niblung kin. Thereto Giuki answered glad-hearted, "Hail, Sigurd, son +of mine eld!" and called upon Grimhild the Queen to bless him. + +Thus was Sigurd troth-plight to the white-armed Gudrun, and all men +were fain of their love and spake nought but praise of him. + + Hark now, on the morrow morning how the blast of the mighty horn + From the builded Burg of the Niblungs goes over the acres shorn, + And the roads are gay with the riders, and the bull in the stall is left, + And the plough is alone in the furrow, and the wedge in the hole half-cleft; + And late shall the ewes be folded, and the kine come home to the pail, + And late shall the fires be litten in the outmost treeless dale: + For men fare to the gate of Giuki and the ancient cloudy hall, + And therein are the earls assembled and the kings wear purple and pall, + And the flowers are spread beneath them, and the bench-cloths beaten with + gold; + And the walls are strange and wondrous with the noble stories told: + For new-hung is the ancient dwelling with the golden spoils of the south, + And men seem merry for ever, and the praise is in each man's mouth, + And the name of Sigurd the Volsung, the King and the Serpent's Bane, + Who exalteth the high this morning and blesseth the masters of gain: + For men drink the bridal of Sigurd and the white-armed Niblung maid, + And the best with the best shall be mingled, and the gold with the gold + o'erlaid. + + So, fair in the hall is the feasting and men's hearts are uplifted on high, + And they deem that the best of their life-days are surely drawing anigh, + As now, one after other, uprise the scalds renowned, + And their well-beloved voices awake the hoped-for sound, + In the midmost of the high-tide, and the joy of feasting lords. + Then cometh a hush and a waiting, and the light of many swords + Flows into the hall of Giuki by the doorway of the King, + And amid those flames of battle the war-clad warriors bring + The Cup of daring Promise and the hallowed Boar of Son, + And men's hearts grow big with longing and great is the hope-tide grown; + For bright the Son of Sigmund ariseth by the board + And unwinds the knitted peace-strings that hamper Regin's Sword: + Then fierce is the light on the high-seat as men set down the Cup + Anigh the hand of Sigurd, and the edges blue rise up, + And fall on the hallowed Wood-beast: as a trump of the woeful war + Rings the voice of the mighty Volsung as he speaks the words of yore: + + "By the Earth that groweth and giveth, and by all the Earth's increase + That is spent for Gods and man-folk; by the sun that shines on these; + By the Salt-Sea-Flood that beareth the life and death of men; + By the Heavens and Stars that change not, though earth die out again; + By the wild things of the mountain, and the houseless waste and lone; + By the prey of the Goths in the thicket and the holy Beast of Son, + I hallow me to Odin for a leader of his host, + To do the deeds of the Highest, and never count the cost: + And I swear, that whatso great-one shall show the day and the deed, + I shall ask not why nor wherefore, but the sword's desire shall speed: + And I swear to seek no quarrel, nor to swerve aside for aught, + Though the right and the left be blooming, and the straight way wend to + nought: + And I swear to abide and hearken the prayer of any thrall, + Though the war-torch be on the threshold and the foemen's feet in the hall: + And I swear to sit on my throne in the guise of the kings of the earth, + Though the anguish past amending, and the unheard woe have birth: + And I swear to wend in my sorrow that none shall curse mine eyes + For the scowl that quelleth beseeching, and the hate that scorneth the wise. + So help me Earth and Heavens, and the Under-sky and Seas, + And the Stars in their ordered houses, and the Norns that order these!" + + And he drank of the Cup of the Promise, and fair as a star he shone, + And all men rejoiced and wondered, and deemed Earth's glory won. + + Then came the girded maidens, and the slim earls' daughters poured, + And uprose the dark-haired Gunnar and bare was the Niblung sword; + Blue it gleamed in the hand of the folk-king as he laid it low on the Beast, + And took oath as the Goths of aforetime in the hush of the people's feast: + "I will work for the craving of Kings, and accomplish the will of the great, + Nor ask what God withstandeth, nor hearken the tales of fate; + When a King my life hath exalted, and wrought for my hope and my gain, + For every deed he hath done me, thereto shall I fashion twain. + I shall bear forth the fame of the Niblungs through all that hindereth; + In my life shall I win great glory, and be merry in my death." + + So sweareth the lovely war-king and drinketh of the Cup, + And the joy of the people waxeth and their glad cry goeth up. + But again came the girded maidens: earls' daughters pour the wine, + And bare is the blade of Hogni in the feast-hall over the Swine; + Then he cries o'er the hallowed Wood-beast: "Earth, hearken, how I swear, + To beseech no man for his helping, and to vex no God with prayer; + And to seek out the will of the Norns, and look in the eyes of the curse; + And to laugh while the love aboundeth, lest the glad world grow into worse; + Then if in the murder I laugh not, O Earth, remember my name, + And oft tell it aloud to the people for the Niblungs' fated shame!" + + Then he drank of the Cup of the Promise, and all men hearkened and deemed + That his speech was great and valiant, and as one of the wise he seemed. + + Then the linen-folded maidens of the earl-folk lift the gold, + But the earls look each on the other, and Guttorm's place behold, + And empty it lieth before them; for the child hath wearied of peace, + And he sits by the oars in the East-seas, and winneth fame's increase. + Nor then, nor ever after, o'er the Holy Beast he spake, + When mighty hearts were exalted for the golden Sigurd's sake. + + +_Sigurd rideth with the Niblungs, and wooeth Brynhild for King Gunnar._ + + Now it fell on a day of the spring-tide that followed on these things, + That Sigurd fares to the meadows with Gunnar and Hogni the Kings; + For afar is Guttorm the youngest, and he sails the Eastern Seas, + And fares with war-shield hoisted to win him fame's increase. + + * * * * * + + There stay those Kings of the people alone in weed of war, + And they cut a strip of the greensward on the meadow's daisied floor, + And loosen it clean in the midst, while its ends in the earth abide; + Then they heave its midmost aloft, and set on either side + An ancient spear of battle writ round with words of worth; + And these are the posts of the door, whose threshold is of the earth, + And the skin of the earth is its lintel: but with war-glaives gleaming bare + The Niblung Kings and Sigurd beneath the earth-yoke fare; + Then each an arm-vein openeth, and their blended blood falls down + On Earth the fruitful Mother where they rent her turfy gown: + And then, when the blood of the Volsungs hath run with the Niblung blood, + They kneel with their hands upon it and swear the brotherhood: + Each man at his brother's bidding to come with the blade in his hand, + Though the fire and the flood should sunder, and the very Gods withstand: + Each man to love and cherish his brother's hope and will; + Each man to avenge his brother when the Norns his fate fulfill: + And now are they foster-brethren, and in such wise have they sworn + As the God-born Goths of aforetime, when the world was newly born. + But among the folk of the Niblungs goes forth the tale of the same, + And men deem the tidings a glory and the garland of their fame. + + So is Sigurd yet with the Niblungs, and he loveth Gudrun his wife, + And wendeth afield with the brethren to the days of the dooming of life; + And nought his glory waneth, nor falleth the flood of praise: + To every man he hearkeneth, nor gainsayeth any grace, + And glad is the poor in the Doom-ring when he seeth his face mid the Kings, + For the tangle straighteneth before him, and the maze of crooked things. + But the smile is departed from him, and the laugh of Sigurd the young, + And of few words now is he waxen, and his songs are seldom sung. + Howbeit of all the sad-faced was Sigurd loved the best; + And men say: Is the king's heart mighty beyond all hope of rest? + Lo, how he beareth the people! how heavy their woes are grown! + So oft were a God mid the Goth-folk, if he dwelt in the world alone. + +Now Giuki the king was long grown old, and he died and was buried +beneath a great earth-mound high on the mountains. + + So there lieth Giuki the King, mid steel and the glimmer of gold, + As the sound of the feastful Niblungs round his misty house is rolled: + But Gunnar is King of the people, and the chief of the Niblung land; + A man beloved for his mercy, and his might and his open hand; + A glorious king in the battle, a hearkener at the doom, + A singer to sing the sun up from the heart of the midnight gloom. + + On a day sit the Kings in the high-seat when Grimhild saith to her son: + "O Gunnar, King beloved, a fair life hast thou won; + On the flood, in the field hast thou wrought, and hung the chambers with + gold; + Far abroad mid many a people are the tidings of thee told: + Now do a deed for thy mother and the hallowed Niblung hearth, + Lest the house of the mighty perish, and our tale grow wan with dearth. + If thou do the deed that I bid thee, and wed a wife of the Kings, + No less shalt thou cleave the war-helms and scatter the ruddy rings." + + He said: "Meseemeth, mother, thou speakest not in haste, + But hast sought and found beforehand, lest thy fair words fall to waste." + + She said: "Thou sayest the sooth; I have found the thing I sought: + A Maid for thee is shapen, and a Queen for thee is wrought: + In the waste land hard by Lymdale a marvellous hall is built, + With its roof of the red gold beaten, and its wall-stones over-gilt: + Afar o'er the heath men see it, but no man draweth nigher, + For the garth that goeth about it is nought but the roaring fire, + A white wall waving aloft; and no window nor wicket is there, + Whereby the shielded earl-folk or the sons of the merchants may fare: + But few things from me are hidden, and I know in that hall of gold + Sits Brynhild, white as a wild-swan where the foamless seas are rolled; + And the daughter of Kings of the world, and the sister of Queens is she, + And wise, and Odin's Chooser, and the Breath of Victory: + But for this cause sitteth she thus in the ring of the Wavering Flame, + That no son of the Kings will she wed save the mightiest master of fame, + And the man who knoweth not fear, and the man foredoomed of fate + To ride through her Wavering Fire to the door of her golden gate: + And for him she sitteth and waiteth, and him shall she cherish and love, + Though the Kings of the world should withstand it, and the Gods that sit + above. + Speak thou, O mighty Gunnar!--nay rather, Sigurd my son, + Say who but the lord of the Niblungs should wed with this glorious one?" + + Long Sigurd gazeth upon her, and slow he sayeth again: + "I know thy will, my mother; of all the sons of men, + Of all the Kings unwedded, and the kindred of the great, + It is meet that my brother Gunnar should ride to her golden gate." + + * * * * * + + In the May-morn riseth Gunnar with fair face and gleaming eyes, + And he calleth on Sigurd his brother, and he calleth on Hogni the wise: + "Today shall we fare to the wooing, for so doth our mother bid; + We shall go to gaze on marvels, and things from the King-folk hid." + + So they do on the best of their war-gear, and their steeds are dight for the + road, + And forth to the sun neigheth Greyfell as he neighed 'neath the Golden Load: + But or ever they leap to the saddle, while yet in the door they stand, + Thereto cometh Grimhild the wise-wife, and on each head layeth her hand, + As she saith: "Be mighty and wise, as the kings that came before! + For they knew of the ways of the Gods, and the craft of the Gods they bore: + And they knew how the shapes of man-folk are the very images + Of the hearts that abide within them, and they knew of the shaping of these. + Be wise and mighty, O Kings, and look in mine heart and behold + The craft that prevaileth o'er semblance, and the treasured wisdom of old! + I hallow you thus for the day, and I hallow you thus for the night, + And I hallow you thus for the dawning with my fathers' hidden might. + Go now, for ye bear my will while I sit in the hall and spin; + And tonight shall be the weaving, and tomorn the web shall ye win." + + So they leap to the saddles aloft, and they ride and speak no word, + But the hills and the dales are awakened by the clink of the sheathed sword: + None looks in the face of the other, but the earth and the heavens gaze, + And behold those kings of battle ride down the dusty ways. + + So they come to the Waste of Lymdale when the afternoon is begun, + And afar they see the flame-blink on the grey sky under the sun: + And they spur and speak no word, and no man to his fellow will turn; + But they see the hills draw upward and the earth beginning to burn: + And they ride, and the eve is coming, and the sun hangs low o'er the earth, + And the red flame roars up to it from the midst of the desert's dearth. + None turns or speaks to his brother, but the Wrath gleams bare and red, + And blood-red is the Helm of Aweing on the golden Sigurd's head, + And bare is the blade of Gunnar, and the first of the three he rides, + And the wavering wall is before him and the golden sun it hides. + + Then the heart of a king's son failed not, but he tossed his sword on high + And laughed as he spurred for the fire, and cried the Niblung cry; + But the mare's son saw and imagined, and the battle-eager steed, + That so oft had pierced the spear-hedge and never failed at need, + Shrank back, and shrieked in his terror, and spite of spur and rein + Fled fast as the foals unbitted on Odin's pasturing plain; + Wide then he wheeled with Gunnar, but with hand and knee he dealt, + And the voice of a lord beloved, till the steed his master felt, + And bore him back to the brethren; by Greyfell Sigurd stood, + And stared at the heart of the fire, and his helm was red as blood; + But Hogni sat in his saddle, and watched the flames up-roll; + And he said: "Thy steed has failed thee that was once the noblest foal + In the pastures of King Giuki; but since thine heart fails not, + And thou wouldst not get thee backward and say, The fire was hot, + And the voices pent within it were singing nought but death, + Let Sigurd lend thee his steed that wore the Glittering Heath, + And carried the Bed of the Serpent, and the ancient ruddy rings. + So perchance may the mocks be lesser when men tell of the Niblung Kings." + + Then Sigurd looked on the twain, and he saw their swart hair wave + In the wind of the waste and the flame-blast, and no answer awhile he gave. + But at last he spake: "O brother, on Greyfell shalt thou ride, + And do on the Helm of Aweing and gird the Wrath to thy side, + And cover thy breast with the war-coat that is throughly woven of gold, + That hath not its like in the heavens nor has earth of its fellow told: + For this is the raiment of Kings when they ride the Flickering Fire, + And so sink the flames before them and the might of their desire." + + Then Hogni laughed in his heart, and he said: "This changing were well + If so might the deed be accomplished; but perchance there is more to tell: + Thou shalt take the war-steed, Gunnar, and enough or nought it shall be: + But the coal-blue gear of the Niblungs the golden hall shall see." + Then Sigurd looked on the speaker, as one who would answer again, + But his words died out on the waste and the fire-blast made them vain. + Then he casteth the reins to his brother, and Gunnar praiseth his gift, + And springeth aloft to the saddle as the fair sun fails from the lift; + And Sigurd looks on the burden that Greyfell doth uprear, + The huge king towering upward in the dusky Niblung gear: + There sits the eager Gunnar, and his heart desires the deed, + And of nought he recketh and thinketh, but a fame-stirred warrior's need; + But Greyfell trembleth nothing and nought of the fire doth reck: + Then the spurs in his flank are smitten, and the reins lie loose on his + neck, + And the sharp cry springeth from Gunnar--no handbreadth stirred the beast; + The dusk drew on and over and the light of the fire increased, + And still as a shard on the mountain in the sandy dale alone + Was the shape of the cloudy Greyfell, nor moved he more than the stone; + But right through the heart of the fire for ever Sigurd stared, + As he stood in the gold red-litten with the Wrath's thin edges bared. + + No word for a while spake any, till Gunnar leaped to the earth, + And the anger wrought within him, and the fierce words came to birth: + "Who mocketh the King of the Niblungs in the desert land forlorn? + Is it thou, O Sigurd the Stranger? is it thou, O younger-born? + Dost thou laugh in the hall, O Mother? dost thou spin, and laugh at the tale + That has drawn thy son and thine eldest to the sword and the blaze of the + bale? + Or thou, O God of the Goths, wilt thou hide and laugh thy fill, + While the hands of the foster-brethren the blood of brothers spill?" + + But the awful voice of Sigurd across the wild went forth: + "How changed are the words of Gunnar! where wend his ways of worth? + I mock thee not in the desert, as I mocked thee not in the mead, + When I swore beneath the turf-yoke to help thy fondest need: + Nay, strengthen thine heart for the work, for the gift that thy manhood + awaits; + For I give thee a gift, O Niblung, that shall overload the Fates, + And how may a King sustain it? but forbear with the dark to strive; + For thy mother spinneth and worketh, and her craft is awake and alive." + + Then Hogni spake from the saddle: "The time, and the time is come + To gather the might of our mother, and of her that spinneth at home. + Forbear all words, O Gunnar, and anigh to Sigurd stand, + And face to face behold him, and take his hand in thine hand: + Then be thy will as his will, that his heart may mingle with thine, + And the love that he sware 'neath the earth-yoke with thine hope may + intertwine." + + Then the wrath from the Niblung slippeth and the shame that anger hath bred, + And the heavy wings of the dreamtide flit over Gunnar's head: + But he doth by his brother's bidding, and Sigurd's hand he takes, + And he looks in the eyes of the Volsung, though scarce in the desert he + wakes. + There Hogni sits in the saddle aloof from the King's desire, + And little his lips are moving, as he stares on the rolling fire, + And mutters the spells of his mother, and the words she bade him say: + But the craft of the kings of aforetime on those Kings of the battle lay; + Dark night was spread behind them, and the fire flared up before, + And unheard was the wind of the wasteland mid the white flame's wavering + roar. + + Long Sigurd gazeth on Gunnar, till he sees, as through a cloud, + The long black locks of the Niblung, and the King's face set and proud: + Then the face is alone on the dark, and the dusky Niblung mail + Is nought but the night before him: then whiles will the visage fail, + And grow again as he gazeth, black hair and gleaming eyes, + And fade again into nothing, as for more of vision he tries: + Then all is nought but the night, yea the waste of an emptier thing, + And the fire-wall Sigurd forgetteth, nor feeleth the hand of the King: + Nay, what is it now he remembereth? it is nought that aforetime he knew, + And no world is there left him to live in, and no deed to rejoice in or rue; + But frail and alone he fareth, and as one in the sphere-stream's drift, + By the starless empty places that lie beyond the lift: + Then at last is he stayed in his drifting, and he saith, It is blind and + dark; + Yet he feeleth the earth at his feet, and there cometh a change and a spark, + And away in an instant of time is the mirk of the dreamland rolled, + And there is the fire-lit midnight, and before him an image of gold, + A man in the raiment of Gods, nor fashioned worser than they: + Full sad he gazeth on Sigurd from the great wide eyes and grey; + And the Helm that Aweth the people is set on the golden hair, + And the Mail of Gold enwraps him, and the Wrath in his hand is bare. + + Then Sigurd looks on his arm and his hand in his brother's hand, + And thereon is the dark grey mail-gear well forged in the southern land; + Then he looks on the sword that he beareth, and, lo, the eager blade + That leaps in the hand of Gunnar when the kings are waxen afraid; + And he turns his face o'er his shoulder, and the raven-locks hang down + From the dark-blue helm of the Dwarf-folk, and the rings of the Niblung + crown. + + Then a red flush riseth against him in the face ne'er seen before, + Save dimly in the mirror or the burnished targe of war, + And the foster-brethren sunder, and the clasped hands fall apart; + But a change cometh over Sigurd, and the fierce pride leaps in his heart; + He knoweth the soul of Gunnar, and the shaping of his mind; + He seeketh the words of Sigurd, and Gunnar's voice doth he find, + As he cries: "I know thy bidding; let the world be lief or loth, + The child is unborn that shall hearken how Sigurd rued his oath! + Well fare thou brother Gunnar! what deed shall I do this eve + That I shall never repent of, that thine heart shall never grieve? + What deed shall I do this even that none else may bring to the birth, + Nay, not the King of the Niblungs, and the lord of the best of the earth?" + + The flames rolled up to the heavens, and the stars behind were bright, + Dark Hogni sat on his war-steed, and stared out into the night, + And there stood Gunnar the King in Sigurd's semblance wrapped, + --As Sigurd walking in slumber, for in Grimhild's guile was he lapped, + That his heart forgat his glory, and the ways of Odin's lords, + And the thought was frozen within him, and the might of spoken words. + + But Sigurd leapeth on Greyfell, and the sword in his hand is bare, + And the gold spurs flame on his heels, and the fire-blast lifteth his hair; + Forth Greyfell bounds rejoicing, and they see the grey wax red, + As unheard the war-gear clasheth, and the flames meet over his head, + Yet a while they see him riding, as through the rye men ride, + When the word goes forth in the summer of the kings by the ocean-side; + But the fires were slaked before him and the wild-fire burned no more + Than the ford of the summer waters when the rainy time is o'er. + + Not once turned Sigurd aback, nor looked o'er the ashy ring, + To the midnight wilderness drear and the spell-drenched Niblung King: + But he stayed and looked before him, and lo, a house high-built + With its roof of the red gold beaten, and its wall-stones over-gilt: + So he leapt adown from Greyfell, and came to that fair abode, + And dark in the gear of the Niblungs through the gleaming door he strode: + All light within was that dwelling, and a marvellous hall it was, + But of gold were its hangings woven, and its pillars gleaming as glass, + And Sigurd said in his heart, it was wrought erewhile for a God: + But he looked athwart and endlong as alone its floor he trod, + And lo, on the height of the dais is upreared a graven throne, + And thereon a woman sitting in the golden place alone; + Her face is fair and awful, and a gold crown girdeth her head; + And a sword of the kings she beareth, and her sun-bright hair is shed + O'er the laps of the snow-white linen that ripples adown to her feet: + As a swan on the billow unbroken ere the firth and the ocean meet, + On the dark-blue cloths she sitteth, in the height of the golden place, + Nor breaketh the hush of the hall, though her eyes be set on his face. + + Now he sees this is even the woman of whom the tale hath been told, + E'en she that was wrought for the Niblungs, the bride ordained from of old, + And hushed in the hall he standeth, and a long while looks in her eyes, + And the word he hath shapen for Gunnar to his lips may never arise. + + The man in Gunnar's semblance looked long and knew no deed; + And she looked, and her eyes were dreadful, and none would help her need. + Then the image of Gunnar trembled, and the flesh of the War-King shrank; + For he heard her voice on the silence, and his heart of her anguish drank: + + "King, King, who art thou that comest, thou lord of the cloudy gear? + What deed for the weary-hearted shall thy strange hands fashion here?" + + The speech of her lips pierced through him like the point of the bitter + sword, + And he deemed that death were better than another spoken word; + But he clencheth his hand on the war-blade, and setteth his face as the + brass, + And the voice of his brother Gunnar from out his lips doth pass: + "When thou lookest on me, O Goddess, thou seest Gunnar the King, + The King and the lord of the Niblungs, and the chief of their warfaring. + But art thou indeed that Brynhild of whom is the rumour and fame, + That she bideth the coming of kings to ride her Wavering Flame, + Lest she wed the little-hearted, and the world grow evil and vile? + For if thou be none other I will speak again in a while." + + She said: "Art thou Gunnar the Stranger! O art thou the man that I see? + Yea, verily I am Brynhild; what other is like unto me? + O men of the Earth behold me! hast thou seen, O labouring Earth, + Such sorrow as my sorrow, or such evil as my birth?" + + Then spake the Wildfire's Trampler that Gunnar's image bore: + "O Brynhild, mighty of women, be thou glorious evermore! + Thou seest Gunnar the Niblung, as he sits mid the Niblung lords, + And rides with the gods of battle in the fore-front of the swords." + + * * * * * + + Hard rang his voice in the hall, and a while she spake no word, + And there stood the Image of Gunnar, and leaned on his bright blue sword: + But at last she cried from the high-seat: "If I yet am alive and awake, + I know no words for the speaking, nor what answer I may make." + She ceased and he answered nothing; and a hush on the hall there lay + And the moon slipped over the windows as he clomb the heavenly way; + And no whit stirred the raiment of Brynhild: till she hearkened the Wooer's + voice, + As he said: "Thou art none of the women that swear and forswear and rejoice, + Forgetting the sorrow of kings and the Gods and the labouring earth. + Thou shall wed with King Gunnar the Niblung and increase his worth with thy + worth." + + * * * * * + + So spake he in semblance of Gunnar, and from off his hand he drew + A ring of the spoils of the Southland, a marvel seen but of few, + And he set the ring on her finger, and she turned to her lord and spake: + "I thank thee, King, for thy goodwill, and thy pledge of love I take. + Depart with my troth to thy people: but ere full ten days are o'er + I shall come to the Sons of the Niblungs, and then shall we part no more + Till the day of the change of our life-days, when Odin and Freyia shall + call. + Lo, here, my gift of the morning! 'twas my dearest treasure of all; + But thou art become its master, and for thee was it fore-ordained, + Since thou art the man of mine oath and the best that the earth hath + gained." + + And lo, 'twas the Grief of Andvari, and the lack that made him loth, + The last of the God-folk's ransom, the Ring of Hindfell's oath; + Now on Sigurd's hand it shineth, and long he looketh thereon, + But it gave him back no memories of the days that were bygone. + + * * * * * + + So forth from the hall goes the Wooer, and slow and slow he goes, + As a conquered king from his city fares forth to meet his foes; + And he taketh the reins of Greyfell, nor yet will back him there, + But afoot through the cold slaked ashes of yester-eve doth fare, + With his eyes cast down to the earth; till he heareth the wind, and a cry, + And raiseth a face brow-knitted and beholdeth men anigh, + And beholdeth Hogni the King set grey on his coal-black steed, + And beholdeth the image of Sigurd, the King in the golden weed: + Then he stayeth and stareth astonished and setteth his hand to his sword; + Till Hogni cries from his saddle, and his word is a kindly word: + + "Hail, brother, the King of the people! hail, helper of my kin! + Again from the death and the trouble great gifts hast thou set thee to win + For thy friends and the Niblung children, and hast crowned thine earthly + fame, + And increased thine exceeding glory and the sound of thy loved name." + + Nought Sigurd spake in answer but looked straight forth with a frown, + And stretched out his hand to Gunnar, as one that claimeth his own. + Then no word speaketh Gunnar, but taketh his hand in his hand, + And they look in the eyes of each other, and a while in the desert they + stand + Till the might of Grimhild prevaileth, and the twain are as yester-morn; + But sad was the golden Sigurd, though his eyes knew nought of scorn; + And he spake: + "It is finished, O Gunnar! and I will that our brotherhood + May endure through the good and the evil as it sprang in the days of the + good: + But I bid thee look to the ending, that the deed I did yest'reve + Bear nought for me to repent of, for thine heart of hearts to grieve. + Thou art troth-plight, O King of the Niblungs, to Brynhild Queen of the + earth, + She hath sworn thine heart to cherish and increase thy worth with her worth: + She shall come to the house of Gunnar ere ten days are past and o'er; + And thenceforth the life of Brynhild shall part from thy life no more, + Till the doom of our kind shall speed you, and Odin and Freyia shall call, + And ye bide the Day of the Battle, and the uttermost changing of all." + + The praise and thanks they gave him! the words of love they spake! + The tale that the world should hear of, deeds done for Sigurd's sake! + They were lovely might you hear them: but they lack; for in very deed + Their sound was clean forgotten in the day of Sigurd's need. + + * * * * * + + So that night in the hall of the ancient they hold high-tide again, + And the Gods on the Southland hangings smile out full fair and fain, + And the song goes up of Sigurd, and the praise of his fame fulfilled, + But his speech in the dead sleep lieth, and the words of his wisdom are + chilled: + And men say, the King is careful, for he thinks of the people's weal, + And his heart is afraid for our trouble, lest the Gods our joyance steal. + + But that night, when the feast was over, to Gudrun Sigurd came, + And she noted the ring on his finger, and she knew it was nowise the same + As the ring he was wont to carry; so she bade him tell thereof: + Then he turned unto her kindly, and his words were words of love; + Nor his life nor his death he heeded, but told her last night's tale: + Yea, he drew forth the sword for his slaying, and whetted the edges of bale; + For he took that Gold of Andvari, that Curse of the uttermost land, + And he spake as a king that loveth, and set it on her hand; + But her heart was exceeding joyous, as he kissed her sweet and soft, + And bade her bear it for ever, that she might remember him oft + When his hand from the world was departed and he sat in Odin's home. + + +_How Brynhild was wedded to Gunnar the Niblung._ + +So ten days wore over, and on the morrow-morn the folk were all astir +in the Niblung house, till the watchers on the towers cried to them +tidings of a goodly company drawing nigh upon the road. Then the +Niblungs got them to horse in glittering-gay raiment and went forth to +meet the people of Brynhild. + +First rode bands of maidens arrayed in fine linen and blue-broidered +cloaks, and after them came a golden wain with horses of snowy white and +bench-cloths of blue, and therein sat Brynhild alone, clad in swan-white +raiment and crowned with gold. Then they hailed her sweet and goodly, and +so she entered the darksome gate-way and came within the Niblung Burg. + + So fair in the sun of the forecourt doth Brynhild's wain shine bright, + And the huge hall riseth before her, and the ernes cry out from its height, + And there by the door of the Niblungs she sees huge warriors stand, + Dark-clad, by the shoulders greater than the best of any land, + And she knoweth the chiefs of the Niblungs, the dreaded dukes of war: + But one in cloudy raiment stands a very midst the door, + And ruddy and bright is his visage, and his black locks wave in the wind, + And she knoweth the King of the Niblungs and the man she came to find: + Then nought she lingered nor loitered, but stepped to the earth adown + With right-hand reached to the War-God, the wearer of the crown; + And she said: + "I behold thee, Gunnar, the King of War that rode + Through the waves of the Flickering Fire to the door of mine abode, + + * * * * * + + "And for this I needs must deem thee the best of all men born, + The highest-hearted, the greatest, the staunchest of thy love: + And that such the world yet holdeth, my heart is fain thereof: + And for thee I deem was I fashioned, and for thee the oath I swore + In the days of my glory and wisdom, ere the days of youth were o'er. + + * * * * * + + "May the fire ne'er stay thy glory, nor the ocean-flood thy fame! + Through ages of all ages may the wide world praise thy name! + Yea, oft may the word be spoken when low we lie at rest; + 'It befell in the days of Gunnar, the happiest and the best!' + All this may the high Gods give thee, and thereto a gift I give, + The body of Queen Brynhild so long as both we live." + + With unmoved face, unfaltering, the blessing-words she said, + But the joy sprang up in Gunnar and increased his goodlihead, + And he cast his arms about her and kissed her on the mouth, + And he said: + "The gift is greater than all treasure of the south; + As glad as my heart this moment, so glad may be thy life, + And the world be never weary of the joy of Gunnar's wife!" + + She spake no word, and smiled not, but she held his hand henceforth. + And he said; "Now take the greetings of my men, the most of worth." + + Then she turned her face to the war-dukes, and hearkened to their praise, + And she spake in few words sweetly, and blessed their coming days. + Then again spake Gunnar and said: "Lo, Hogni my brother is this; + But Guttorm is far on the East-seas, and seeketh the warrior's bliss; + A third there is of my brethren, and my house holds none so great; + In the hall by the side of my sister thy face doth he await." + +Then Brynhild gave fair greeting to Hogni, but anon she turned and +questioned Gunnar of his words concerning that brother who awaited her +in the hall. "I deemed the sons of Giuki had been but three," said +Brynhild. "This fourth, this hall-abider the mighty,--is he akin to +thee?" + + And Gunnar answered: + "He is nought of our blood, + But the Gods have sent him to usward to work us measureless good: + It is even Sigurd the Volsung, the best man ever born, + The man that the Gods withstand not, my friend, and my brother sworn." + + She heard the name, and she changed not, but her feet went forth as he led, + And under the cloudy roof-tree Queen Brynhild bowed her head. + Then, were there a man so ancient as had lived beyond his peers + On the earth, that beareth all things, a twice-told tale of years, + He had heard no sound so mighty as the shout that shook the wall + When Brynhild's feet unhearkened first trod the Niblung hall. + No whit the clamour stirred her; but her godlike eyes she raised + And betwixt the hedge of the earl-folk on the golden high-seat gazed, + And the man that sat by Gudrun: but e'en as the rainless cloud + Ere the first of the tempest ariseth the latter sun doth shroud, + And men look round and shudder, so Grimhild came between + The silent golden Sigurd and the eyes of the mighty Queen, + And again heard Brynhild greeting, and again she spake and said: + + "O Mother of the Niblungs, such hap be on thine head, + As thy love for me, the stranger, was past the pain of words! + Mayst thou see thy son's sons glorious in the meeting of the swords! + Mayst thou sleep and doubt thee nothing of the fortunes of thy race! + Mayst thou hear folk call yon high-seat the earth's most happy place!" + + Then the Wise-wife hushed before her, and a little fell aside, + And nought from the eyes of Brynhild the high-seat now did hide; + And the face so long desired, unchanged from time agone, + In the house of the Cloudy People from the Niblung high-seat shone: + She stood with her hand in Gunnar's, and all about and around + Were the unfamiliar faces, and the folk that day had found; + But her heart ran back through the years, and yet her lips did move + With the words she spake on Hindfell, when they plighted troth of love. + + Lo, Sigurd fair on the high-seat by the white-armed Gudrun's side, + In the midst of the Cloudy People, in the dwelling of their pride! + His face is exceeding glorious and awful to behold; + For of all his sorrow he knoweth and his hope smit dead and cold: + The will of the Norns is accomplished, and, lo, they wend on their ways, + And leave the mighty Sigurd to deal with the latter days: + The Gods look down from heaven, and the lonely King they see, + And sorrow over his sorrow, and rejoice in his majesty. + For the will of the Norns is accomplished, and outworn is Grimhild's spell, + And nought now shall blind or help him, and the tale shall be to tell: + He hath seen the face of Brynhild, and he knows why she hath come, + And that his is the hand that hath drawn her to the Cloudy People's home: + He knows of the net of the days, and the deeds that the Gods have bid, + And no whit of the sorrow that shall be from his wakened soul is hid: + And his glory his heart restraineth, and restraineth the hand of the strong + From the hope of the fools of desire and the wrong that amendeth wrong. + + * * * * * + + And Brynhild's face drew near him with eyes grown stern and strange. + + * * * * * + + Now she stands on the floor of the high-seat, and for e'en so little a space + As men may note delaying, she looketh on Sigurd's face, + Ere she saith: + "I have greeted many in the Niblungs' house today, + And for thee is the last of my greetings ere the feast shall wear away: + Hail, Sigurd, son of the Volsungs! hail, lord of Odin's storm! + Hail, rider of the wasteland and slayer of the Worm! + If aught thy soul shall desire while yet thou livest on earth, + I pray that thou mayst win it, nor forget its might and worth." + + All grief, sharp scorn, sore longing, stark death in her voice he knew, + But gone forth is the doom of the Norns, and what shall he answer thereto, + While the death that amendeth lingers? and they twain shall dwell for awhile + In the Niblung house together by the hearth that forged the guile. + + * * * * * + + So he spake as a King of the people in whom all fear is dead, + And his anguish no man noted, as the greeting-words he said: + "Hail, fairest of all things fashioned! hail, thou desire of eyes! + Hail, chooser of the mightiest, and teacher of the wise! + Hail, wife of my brother Gunnar! in might may thy days endure, + And in peace without a trouble that the world's weal may be sure!" + + * * * * * + + But the song sprang up in the hall, and the eagles cried from above + And forth to the freshness of May went the joyance of the feast: + And Sigurd sat with the Niblungs, and gave ear to most and to least. + And showed no sign to the people of the grief that on him lay; + Nor seemeth he worser to any than he was on the yesterday. + + +_Of the Contention betwixt the Queens._ + +So now must Sigurd and Brynhild abide together in the Burg of the +Niblungs, yet each must bear the burden of sorrow alone. Brynhild held +close converse with Gudrun, and behaved humbly towards her lest strife +should arise between them. But Gudrun, filled with pride that she was +the wife of so great a man as Sigurd, deemed it a little matter that +all others should give her honour, and knowing how Sigurd had ridden +the fire, she cherished great scorn of Gunnar and Brynhild in her +heart, and her pride waxed daily greater. + +Of the heart-wise Hogni men tell how he grew wiser day by day and more +learned in the craft of his mother Grimhild. + +As for Gunnar, he lived with Brynhild in great honour and praise from +all men, but the thought of how Sigurd had ridden the fire in his +semblance lay heavy upon him. He brooded thereon in bitterness and +envy, and the lie shadowed his life-days so that he had but small joy +in his wife. + +And Grimhild, marking his heavy mood, wrought upon him with cunning +words and he gave ear to her. For ever she spake of kings' supplanters +who bear away the praise from their lords after great deeds are done, +and often her talk was of the mighty power that he holdeth who knoweth +the shame of a king. So Gunnar hearkened and ill thoughts grew within +him. + + But fair-faced, calm as a God who hath none to call his foes, + Betwixt the Kings and the people the golden Sigurd goes; + No knowledge of man he lacketh, and the lore he gained of old + From the ancient heart of the Serpent and the Wallower on the Gold + Springs fresh in the soul of Sigurd; the heart of Hogni he sees, + And the heart of his brother Gunnar, and he grieveth sore for these. + + * * * * * + + It was most in these latter days that his fame went far abroad, + The helper, the overcomer, the righteous sundering sword; + The loveliest King of the King-folk, the man of sweetest speech, + Whose ear is dull to no man that his helping shall beseech; + The eye-bright seer of all things, that wasteth every wrong, + The straightener of the crooked, the hammer of the strong: + Lo, such was the Son of Sigmund in the days whereof I tell, + The dread of the doom and the battle; and all children loved him well. + +Now Gudrun's scorn of Brynhild waxed greater as she thought on the +knowledge that she held, and it needed but a little that she should +speak out the whole tale. + +Such was her mind when it befell her to go with Brynhild to bathe in +the Niblung river. There it chanced that they fell to talk of their +husbands, and Gudrun named Sigurd the best of the world. Thereat +Brynhild, stung by her love for Sigurd and the memory of his broken +troth,--for so she deemed it,--cried out, saying: "Thy lord is but +Gunnar's serving man to do his bidding, but my mate is the King of +King-folk, who rode the Wavering Fire and hath dared very death to +win me." + +Then Gudrun held out her hand and a golden gleam shone on her finger, +at the sight whereof Brynhild waxed wan as a dead woman. "Lo," said +Gudrun, "I had Andvari's ring of Sigurd, and indeed thou sayest truly, +that he did Gunnar's bidding, for he took the King's semblance and hid +his own shape in Gunnar's. Thus he wooed the bride for Gunnar and for +Gunnar rode the fire, and now by this token mayest thou know whether +thy husband is truly the best of Kings." And Brynhild spake no word in +answer, but clad herself in haste and fled from the river, and Gudrun +followed her in triumph of heart. + +Yet as the day wore on she repented of her words and feared the deeds +that Brynhild might do, and at even she sought her alone and craved +pardon. Then spake Brynhild the Queen: "I repent me of my bitter words +this day, yet one thing I beseech thee,--do thou say that thou hadst +the ring of Gunnar and not of Sigurd, lest I be shamed before all +men." "What?" said Gudrun; "hast thou heard that the wives of the +Niblungs lie? Nay, Sigurd it was who set this ring on my finger and +therewith he told me the shame of my brother Gunnar,--how his glory +was turned to a scoff." + +And Brynhild seeing that the tale of the deceiving wrought against her +might not be hidden, lifted her voice and cursed the house of the +Niblungs wherein she had suffered such woe. So the queens parted in +great wrath and bitterness. + + +_Of the exceeding great grief and mourning of Brynhild._ + +Now on the morrow it was known that Brynhild was sick, nor would she +reveal the cause to any. Then Gunnar besought her to be comforted and +to show what ailed her, but for a long while he might win no word in +answer. Thereat the evil thoughts that Grimhild had sown in his heart +grew strong, and he cried in bitter anger: "Lo, Brynhild, I deem thou +art sick for love of my foe, the supplanter of Kings, he who hath +shone like a serpent this long while past amidst the honour of our +kin." + +Then at last was Brynhild moved to look on him, and she besought him, +saying: "Swear to me, Gunnar, that I may live, and say that thou +gavest Andvari's ring to Gudrun--thou, and not thy captain of war." +Thereby Gunnar understood that all his falsehood was known to her, so +that never again might they two have any joy together. He had no +answering word, but turned from her and departed, for bitter shame was +come on him and hatred of Sigurd burnt in his soul like fire. + +Then as evening drew on, boding of evil fell on Gudrun, and she +sought her brothers that they might plead with Brynhild to pardon her +and forget her bitter taunts. + +But Gunnar she found seated alone arrayed in his war-gear and on his +knees lay his sword, neither would he hear any word of further +pleading with Brynhild. + +Then sought she Hogni, and behold, he was in the like guise, and sat +as one that waits for a foe. So she sped to Sigurd, but chill fear +fell on her beholding him, for he was dight in the Helm of Aweing and +his golden hauberk, and the Wrath lay on his knees, neither would he +then speak to Brynhild. + +So that heavy night passed away and there was but little sleep in the +abode of the Niblungs. And with the dawn Sigurd arose and sought +Brynhild's chamber where she lay as one dead. Like a pillar of light +he stood in the sunshine and the Wrath rattled by his side. And +Brynhild looked on him and said: "Art thou come to behold me? +Thou--the mightiest and the worst of my betrayers." Then for very +grief the breast of Sigurd heaved so that the rings of his byrny burst +asunder and he cried: "O live, Brynhild beloved! For hereafter shalt +thou know of the snare and the lie that entrapped us and the +measureless grief of my soul." "It is o'erlate," said Brynhild, "for I +may live no longer and the gods have forgotten the earth." And in such +despair must he leave her. + + +_Of the slaying of Sigurd the Volsung._ + +Then at high noon Brynhild sent for Gunnar and sought to whet him to +the slaying of Sigurd, for to such hatred was her love turned. + + "I look upon thee," said Brynhild, "I know thy race and thy name, + Yet meseems the deed thou sparest, to amend thine evil and shame." + + "Nought, nought," he said, "may amend it, save the hungry eyeless sword, + And the war without hope or honour, and the strife without reward." + + "Thou hast spoken the word," said Brynhild, "if the word is enough, it is + well. + Let us eat and drink and be merry, that all men of our words may tell!" + + "O all-wise woman," said Gunnar, "what deed lieth under the tongue? + What day for the dearth of the people, when the seed of thy sowing hath + sprung?" + + She said: "Our garment is Shame, and nought the web shall rend, + Save the day without repentance, and the deed that nought may amend." + + "Speak, mighty of women," said Gunnar, "and cry out the name and the deed + That the ends of the Earth may hearken, and the Niblungs' grievous Need." + "To slay," she said, "is the deed, to slay a King ere the morn, + And the name is Sigurd the Volsung, my love and thy brother sworn." + + She turned and departed from him, and he knew not whither she went; + But he took his sword from the girdle and the peace-strings round it rent, + And into the house he gat him, and the sunlit fair abode, + But his heart in the mid-mirk waded, as through the halls he strode, + Till he came to a chamber apart; and Grimhild his mother was there, + And there was his brother Hogni in the cloudy Niblung gear: + Him-seemed there was silence between them as of them that have spoken, and + wait + Till the words of their mouths be accomplished by slow unholpen Fate: + But they turned to the door, and beheld him, and he took his sheathed sword + And cast it adown betwixt them, and it clashed half bare on the board, + And Grimhild spake as it clattered: "For whom are the peace-strings rent? + For whom is the blood-point whetted and the edge of thine intent?" + He said: "For the heart of Sigurd; and thus all is rent away + Betwixt this word and his slaying, save a little hour of day." + + * * * * * + + Again spake Grimhild the wise-wife: "Where then is Guttorm the brave? + For he blent not his blood with the Volsung's, nor his oath to Sigurd gave, + Nor called on Earth to witness, nor went beneath the yoke; + And now is he Sigurd's foeman; and who may curse his stroke?" + + Then Hogni laughed and answered: "His feet on the threshold stand: + Forged is thy sword, O Mother, and its hilts are come to hand. + + * * * * * + + "Ho, Guttorm, enter, and hearken to the counsel of the wise!" + Then in through the door strode Guttorm fair-clad in hunter's guise, + With no steel save his wood-knife girded; but his war-fain eyes stared wild, + As he spake: "What words are ye hiding from the youngest Niblung child? + What work is to win, my brethren, that ye sit in warrior's weed, + And tell me nought of the glory, and cover up the deed?" + + Then uprose Grimhild the wise-wife, and took the cup again; + Night-long had she brewed that witch-drink and laboured not in vain. + For therein was the creeping venom, and hearts of things that prey + On the hidden lives of ocean, and never look on day; + And the heart of the ravening wood-wolf and the hunger-blinded beast + And the spent slaked heart of the wild-fire the guileful cup increased: + But huge words of ancient evil about its rim were scored, + The curse and the eyeless craving of the first that fashioned sword. + + So the cup in her hand was gleaming, as she turned unto Guttorm and spake: + "Be merry, King of the War-fain! we hold counsel for thy sake: + The work is a God's son's slaying, and thine is the hand that shall smite, + That thy name may be set in, glory and thy deeds live on in light." + + Forth flashed the flame from his eyen, and he cried: "Where then is the foe, + This dread of mine house and my brethren, that my hand may lay him alow?" + + "Drink, son," she said, "and be merry! and I shall tell his name, + Whose death shall crown thy life-days, and increase thy fame with his fame." + + He drinketh and craveth for battle, and his hand for a sword doth seek, + And he looketh about on his brethren, but his lips no word may speak; + They speak the name, and he hears not, and again he drinks of the cup + And knows not friend nor kindred, and the wrath in his heart wells up, + That no God may bear unmingled, and he cries a wordless cry, + As the last of the day is departing and the dusk time drawing anigh. + + Then Grimhild goes from the chamber, and bringeth his harness of war, + And therewith they array his body, and he drinketh the cup once more, + And his heart is set on the murder, and now may he understand + What soul is dight for the slaying, and what quarry is for his hand. + For again they tell him of Sigurd, and the man he remembereth, + And praiseth his mighty name and his deeds that laughed on death. + + Now dusk and dark draw over, and through the glimmering house + They go to the place of the Niblungs, the high hall and glorious; + For hard by is the chamber of Sigurd: there dight in their harness of war + In their thrones sit Gunnar and Hogni, but Guttorm stands on the floor + With his blue blade naked before them: the torches flare from the wall + And the woven God-folk waver, but the hush is deep in the hall, + And those Niblung faces change not, though the slow moon slips from her + height + And earth is acold ere dawning, and new winds shake the night. + + Now it was in the earliest dawn-dusk that Guttorm stirred in his place, + And the mail-rings tinkled upon him, as he turned his helm-hid face, + And went forth from the hall and the high-seat; but the Kings sat still in + their pride + And hearkened the clash of his going and heeded how it died. + + Slow, all alone goeth Guttorm to Sigurd's chamber door, + And all is open before him, and the white moon lies on the floor + And the bed where Sigurd lieth with Gudrun on his breast, + And light comes her breath from her bosom in the joy of infinite rest. + Then Guttorm stands on the threshold, and his heart of the murder is fain, + And he thinks of the deeds of Sigurd, and praiseth his greatness and gain; + Bright blue is his blade in the moonlight--but lo, how Sigurd lies, + As the carven dead that die not, with fair wide-open eyes; + And their glory gleameth on Guttorm, and the hate in his heart is chilled, + And he shrinketh aback from the threshold and knoweth not what he willed. + +Thereon he turned him again to the hall, and the Kings beheld his +unstained sword in the torch-light, but they cast him never a word. +Then shame and wrath urged him and he wended the second time to +Sigurd's chamber, but yet again the dread eyes of the Volsung were +open and he fled from their light to his biding brethren. + + Now dieth moon and candle, and though the day be nigh + The roof of the hall fair-builded seems far aloof as the sky, + But a glimmer grows on the pavement and the ernes on the roof-ridge stir: + Then the brethren hist and hearken, for a sound of feet they hear, + And into the hall of the Niblungs a white thing cometh apace: + But the sword of Guttorm upriseth, and he wendeth from his place, + And the clash of steel goes with him; yet loud as it may sound + Still more they hear those footsteps light-falling on the ground, + And the hearts of the Niblungs waver, and their pride is smitten acold, + For they look on that latest comer, and Brynhild they behold: + But she sits by their side in silence, and heeds them nothing more + Than the grey soft-footed morning heeds yester-even's war. + + But Guttorm clashed in the cloisters and through the silence strode + And scarce on the threshold of Sigurd a little while abode; + There the moon from the floor hath departed and heaven without is grey, + And afar in the eastern quarter faint glimmer streaks of day. + Close over the head of Sigurd the Wrath gleams wan and bare, + And the Niblung woman stirreth, and her brow is knit with fear; + But the King's closed eyes are hidden, loose lie his empty hands, + There is nought 'twixt the sword of the slayer and the Wonder of all Lands. + Then Guttorm laughed in his war-rage, and his sword leapt up on high, + As he sprang to the bed from the threshold and cried a wordless cry, + And with all the might of the Niblungs through Sigurd's body thrust, + And turned and fled from the chamber, and fell amid the dust, + Within the door and without it, the slayer slain by the slain; + For the cast of the sword of Sigurd had smitten his body atwain + While yet his cry of onset through the echoing chambers went. + + Woe's me! how the house of the Niblungs by another cry was rent, + The wakening wail of Gudrun, as she shrank in the river of blood + From the breast of the mighty Sigurd: he heard it and understood, + And rose up on the sword of Guttorm, and turned from the country of death, + And spake words of loving-kindness as he strove for life and breath: + + "Wail not, O child of the Niblungs! I am smitten, but thou shall live, + In remembrance of our glory, mid the gifts the Gods shall give!" + + She stayed her cry to hearken, and her heart well nigh stood still: + But he spake: "Mourn not, O Gudrun, this stroke is the last of ill; + Fear leaveth the House of the Niblungs on this breaking of the morn; + Mayst thou live, O woman beloved, unforsaken, unforlorn!" + + Then he sank aback on the sword, and down to his lips she bent + If some sound therefrom she might hearken; for his breath was well-nigh + spent: + "It is Brynhild's deed," he murmured, "and the woman that loves me well; + Nought now is left to repent of, and the tale abides to tell. + I have done many deeds in my life-days, and all these, and my love, they lie + In the hollow hand of Odin till the day of the world go by. + I have done and I may not undo, I have given and I take not again: + Art thou other than I, Allfather, wilt thou gather my glory in vain?" + + There was silence then in the chamber, as the dawn spread wide and grey, + And hushed was the hall of the Niblungs at the entering-in of day. + Long Gudrun hung o'er the Volsung and waited the coming word; + Then she stretched out her hand to Sigurd and touched her love and her lord, + And the broad day fell on his visage, and she knew she was there alone, + And her heart was wrung with anguish and she uttered a weary moan: + Then Brynhild laughed in the hall, and the first of men's voices was that + Since when on yester-even the kings in the high-seat had sat. + + * * * * * + + In the house rose rumour and stir, and men stood up in the morn, + And their hearts with doubt were shaken, as if with the Uttermost Horn: + The cry and the calling spread, and shields clashed down from the wall, + And swords in the chamber glittered, and men ran apace to the hall. + Nor knew what man to question, nor who had tidings to give, + Nor what were the days thenceforward wherein the folk should live. + But ever the word is amongst them that Sigurd the Volsung is slain, + And the spears in the hall were tossing as the rye in the windy plain. + But they look aloft to the high-seat and they see the gleam of the gold: + And Gunnar the King of battle, and Hogni wise and cold, + And Brynhild the wonder of women; and her face is deadly pale, + And the Kings are clad in their war-gear, and bared are the edges of bale. + Then cold fear falleth upon them, but the noise and the clamour abate, + And they look on the war-wise Gunnar and awhile for his word they wait; + But e'en as he riseth above them, doth a shriek through the tumult ring; + + "Awake, O House of the Niblungs, for slain is Sigurd the King!" + + Then nothing faltered Gunnar, but he stood o'er the Niblung folk, + And over the hall woe-stricken the words of pride he spoke: + + "Mourn now, O Niblung people, for gone is Sigurd our guest, + And Guttorm the King is departed, and this is our day of unrest; + But all this of the Norns was fore-ordered, and herein is Odin's hand; + Cast down are the mighty of men-folk, but the Niblung house shall stand: + Mourn then today and tomorrow, but the third day waken and live, + For the Gods died not this morning, and great gifts they have to give." + + He spake and awhile was silence, and then did the cry outbreak, + And many there were of the Earl-folk that wept for Sigurd's sake; + And they wept for their little children, and they wept for those unborn, + Who should know the earth without him and the world of his worth forlorn. + + * * * * * + + So rent is the joy of the Niblungs; and their simple days and fain + From that ancient house are departed, and who shall buy them again? + For he, the redeemer, the helper, the crown of all their worth, + They looked upon him and wondered, they loved, and they thrust him forth. + + +_Of the mighty Grief of Gudrun over Sigurd dead._ + +But as for the grief of Gudrun over Sigurd no man may tell it. Long +she lay on his body and spent herself in weeping, but at last she +arose and cursed Brynhild and Gunnar and all the Niblung house, +saying: + + "O hearken, hearken Gunnar! May the dear Gold drag thee adown, + And Greyfell's ruddy Burden, and the Treasure of renown, + And the rings that ye swore the oath on! yea, if all avengers die, + May Earth, that ye bade remember, on the blood of Sigurd cry! + Be this land as waste as the troth-plight that the lips of fools have sworn! + May it rain through this broken hall-roof, and snow on the hearth forlorn! + And may no man draw anigh it to tell of the ruin and the wrack! + Yea, may I be a mock for the idle if my feet come ever aback, + If my heart think kind of the chambers, if mine eyes shall yearn to behold + The fair-built house of my fathers, the house beloved of old!" + +And therewith Gudrun fled forever from the Burg of the Niblungs, and +none dared hinder or follow her, and none knew whither she turned for +refuge. + + +_Of the passing away of Brynhild._ + + Once more on the morrow-morning fair shineth the glorious sun, + And the Niblung children labour on a deed that shall be done. + For out in the people's meadows they raise a bale on high, + The oak and the ash together, and thereon shall the Mighty lie; + Nor gold nor steel shall be lacking, nor savour of sweet spice, + Nor cloths in the Southlands woven, nor webs of untold price; + The work grows, toil is as nothing; long blasts of the mighty horn + From the topmost tower out-wailing o'er the woeful world are borne. + + * * * * * + + But Brynhild cried to her maidens: "Now open ark and chest, + And draw forth queenly raiment of the loveliest and the best, + Red rings that the Dwarf-lords fashioned, fair cloths that queens have + sewed, + To array the bride for the mighty, and the traveller for the road." + + They wept as they wrought her bidding and did on her goodliest gear; + But she laughed mid the dainty linen, and the gold-rings fashioned fair: + She arose from the bed of the Niblungs, and her face no more was wan; + As a star in the dawn-tide heavens, mid the dusky house she shone: + And they that stood about her, their hearts were raised aloft + Amid their fear and wonder: then she spake them kind and soft: + + "Now give me the sword, O maidens, wherewith I sheared the wind + When the Kings of Earth were gathered to know the Chooser's mind." + + All sheathed the maidens brought it, and feared the hidden blade, + But the naked blue-white edges across her knees she laid, + And spake: "The heaped-up riches, the gear my fathers left, + All dear-bought woven wonders, all rings from battle reft, + All goods of men desired, now strew them on the floor, + And so share among you, maidens, the gifts of Brynhild's store." + + * * * * * + + Then upright by the bed of the Niblungs for a moment doth she stand, + And the blade flasheth bright in the chamber, but no more they hinder her + hand + Than if a God were smiting to rend the world in two: + Then dulled are the glittering edges, and the bitter point cleaves through + The breast of the all-wise Brynhild, and her feet from the pavement fail, + And the sigh of her heart is hearkened mid the hush of the maidens' wail. + Chill, deep is the fear upon them, but they bring her aback to the bed, + And her hand is yet on the hilts, and sidelong droopeth her head. + + Then there cometh a cry from withoutward, and Gunnar's hurrying feet + Are swift on the kingly threshold, and Brynhild's blood they meet. + Low down o'er the bed he hangeth and hearkeneth for her word, + And her heavy lids are opened to look on the Niblung lord, + And she saith: + "I pray thee a prayer, the last word in the world I speak, + That ye bear me forth to Sigurd, and the hand my hand would seek; + The bale for the dead is builded, it is wrought full wide on the plain, + It is raised for Earth's best Helper, and thereon is room for twain: + Ye have hung the shields about it, and the Southland hangings spread, + There lay me adown by Sigurd and my head beside his head." + + * * * * * + + Then they took the body of Brynhild in the raiment that she wore, + And out through the gate of the Niblungs the holy corpse they bore, + And thence forth to the mead of the people, and the high-built shielded + bale; + Then afresh in the open meadows breaks forth the women's wail + When they see the bed of Sigurd and the glittering of his gear; + And fresh is the wail of the people as Brynhild draweth anear, + And the tidings go before her that for twain the bale is built, + That for twain is the oak-wood shielded and the pleasant odours spilt. + + There is peace on the bale of Sigurd, and the Gods look down from on high, + And they see the lids of the Volsung close shut against the sky, + As he lies with his shield beside him in the Hauberk all of gold, + That has not its like in the heavens, nor has earth of its fellow told; + And forth from the Helm of Aweing are the sunbeams flashing wide, + And the sheathed Wrath of Sigurd lies still by his mighty side. + Then cometh an elder of days, a man of the ancient times, + Who is long past sorrow and joy, and the steep of the bale he climbs; + And he kneeleth down by Sigurd, and bareth the Wrath to the sun + That the beams are gathered about it, and from hilt to blood-point run, + And wide o'er the plain of the Niblungs doth the Light of the Branstock + glare, + Till the wondering mountain-shepherds on that star of noontide stare, + And fear for many an evil; but the ancient man stands still + With the war-flame on his shoulder, nor thinks of good or of ill, + Till the feet of Brynhild's bearers on the topmost bale are laid, + And her bed is dight by Sigurd's; then he sinks the pale white blade + And lays it 'twixt the sleepers, and leaves them there alone-- + He, the last that shall ever behold them,--and his days are well nigh done. + + Then is silence over the plain; in the noon shine the torches pale + As the best of the Niblung Earl-folk bear fire to the builded bale: + Then a wind in the west ariseth, and the white flames leap on high, + And with one voice crieth the people a great and mighty cry, + And men cast up hands to the Heavens, and pray without a word, + As they that have seen God's visage, and the voice of the Father have heard. + + They are gone--the lovely, the mighty, the hope of the ancient Earth: + It shall labour and bear the burden as before that day of their birth. + + * * * * * + + Ye have heard of Sigurd aforetime, how the foes of God he slew; + How forth from the darksome desert the Gold of the Waters he drew; + How he wakened Love on the Mountain, and wakened Brynhild the Bright, + And dwelt upon Earth for a season and shone in all men's sight. + Ye have heard of the Cloudy People, and the dimming of the day, + And the latter world's confusion, and Sigurd gone away. + + +THE END + + + + +GLOSSARY + +ABBREVIATIONS:--n., noun; n., verb; cf., compare; e.g., for +example; p.t., past tense; p.p. past participle. + + +_Abasement_, casting down, defeat. + +_Acre-biders_, peaceful workers in the fields as distinguished from +warriors who left their homes to go to war. + +_Amber_, a yellow substance found on the shores of the Baltic Sea and +used from very early days as an ornament. The "southern men," or +traders from the shores of the Mediterranean, came north to buy it. + +_Ark_, a box for treasures. + +_Atwain_, in two pieces, e.g. "The sword ... had smitten his body +atwain." + +_Avail_, n. power; n. to have power, to succeed. + + +_Bale_, disaster, destruction, death; a great pile of wood for +burning. + +_Balks_, pieces of timber used to make a bridge. + +_Bane_, destruction or a cause of destruction; often used to mean an +enemy or slayer, e.g. Sigurd's sword is called "Fafnir's bane," and +in the old saga Sigurd himself had the title Fafnir's-Bane. + +_Barter_, to give in exchange for something else. + +_Bast_, wrappings made of the soft inner bark of trees. + +_Bath of the swan_, the sea. + +_Battle-acre_, field of battle. + +_Beaker_, a drinking cup. + +_Befall_, happen. + +_Begrudge_, to feel unwillingness in giving, to be displeased at +another's success. Loki is called the World's Begrudger, because he +liked to cause failure and unhappiness, and hated success in others. + +_Bench-cloths_, coverings for seats. + +_Bent_, a piece of high ground. + +_Betide_, p.t. betided; p.p. betid; to happen, come to pass, +e.g. "What hath betid?" + +_Bickering_, stormy, struggling. + +_Bide_ or _abide_, p.t. abode; p.p. abode; to remain, dwell + +_Bight_, a bend or curve in a coast or river bank. + +_Bill_, an axe with a long handle. + +_Blazoning_, painting, especially the painting of coats of arms or of +records of valiant deeds. + +_Boar of Son_. It was customary when making any solemn vows to lay the +hand or sword on a sacred boar called the Boar of Son or the Boar of +Atonement. The ceremony seems to have been also accompanied by +drinking a draught, called in this poem the Cup of Daring Promise, in +honour of one of the gods. + +_Boding_, a misgiving, a feeling that evil is to come. + +_Bole_, a tree-trunk. + +_Bows the acre's face_, bends the growing grain in a harvest-field. + +_Brand_, a sword. + +_Bucklers_, shields. + +_Burg_, a town, a fortress. + +_Byrny_, a coat of armour for back and breast, made of linked iron +rings. + + +_Carles_, peasants; a contemptuous word used for a man who is not a +warrior. + +_Change his life_, die and pass from the life on earth to that in +Valhalla or Niflheim. + +_Chooser_. One of the titles of Brynhild, as she was one of the +Valkyries or maidens whom Odin sent into battles to single out for +death the men he had chosen to be slain. Victory-Wafter is another +title of Brynhild, since she brought victory to those for whom it was +appointed and death to others. + +_Churl_, a grudging, ungracious man. + +_Clave_, p.p. of cleave, to pierce, hew, cut through. + +_Cloisters_, a roofed passage running round a court-yard and open on +the side towards the court-yard. + +_Close_, a field. + +_Cloud-wreath_, the cloud that often gathers about the top of a high +mountain. + +_Compass_, to contrive, accomplish. + +_Constrain_, to force, to control and guide. + +_Coping_, the topmost row of bricks in a wall, the top of a wall. + +_Craft_, skill, knowledge of some particular art, a trade or +occupation, e.g. song-craft. + +_Cull_, to choose, pick out. + +_Cup of Daring Promise_, see _Boar of Son_. + + +_Dais_, a raised part of the floor at one end of a banquet hall, where +the principal persons sat. + +_Dastard_, a coward. + +_Dawn-dusk_, the twilight at dawn before the sun is fully risen. + +_Day of the Battle_, Ragnarok, when the spirits of dead warriors +should join in the battle of the gods. "_Day of Doom_" has the same +meaning. + +_Dearth_, want, famine, scarcity. + +_Deft_, skilful, e.g. deft in every cunning. + +_Dight_, made ready, prepared, e.g. war-dight, prepared for war. + +_Dole_, n. a gift dealt out as charity; n. to measure out in small +portions, e.g. I doled out wisdom to thee. + +_Doom_, n. a sentence, verdict, e.g. give righteous doom; n. to +condemn, to sentence. _Doom-ring_, a circle of stones or hazel poles +where kings heard complaints from their people and gave judgment. + +_Do on_, put on; often shortened into "don"; cf. doff, which is +shortened from do off. + +_Door-wards_, porters, door-keepers. + +_Dragons_, the war-ships of the northern nations, which often had +their prows carved into a dragon's head. + +_Dwindle_, to grow less. + + +_Edges of bale_, the sword edges, which bring bale or destruction. + +_Egg_, to urge on, to persuade to some deed, e.g. "Too much thou +eggest me." + +_Eld_, old age. + +_Endlong_, length-ways, along. _Endlong_ and _athwart_, along and +across. + +_Erewhile_, some time ago, formerly. + +_Erne_, an eagle. + +_Eyen_, eyes; old plural of eye. + + +_Fain_, glad, willing, full of desire. Sometimes used as an adverb +meaning "willingly," e.g. "They fain would go aland." + +_Fair-speech-masters_, men skilled in poetry. There were professional +singers and poets called skalds among the northern people, and the +power to make verses and to sing was cultivated among the mass of the +people and was fairly common. + +_Fallow_, lying quiet, inactive, not bearing crops. The expression, +"fallow bondage," means a bondage of sleep and idleness. + +_Fare_, to travel. Sometimes when joined to adverbs it means to +prosper, e.g. to fare ill, to fare well, how does he fare? + +_Fashion_, to make, to arrange. Regin hoped to be the world's +"fashioning lord," that is, the supreme king and orderer of all +things. + +_Fell-abiding folk_, men who worked at home instead of going out to +battle. + +_Flame-blink_, the flash of light from the fire round Brynhild's home. + +_Flaw_, defect, fault, e.g. "the hauberk ... clean wrought without a +flaw;" "the ring ... that hath ... no flaw for God to mend." If used +of rain, it means a slight shower, e.g. "a flaw of summer rain," + +_Fleck_, spot, mark. + +_Foam-bow_, the small rainbow seen in the spray from a waterfall. + +_Foil_, n. defeat, failure; n. to defeat, to baffle. + +_Fold_, a place for shutting up sheep. It is often used meaning any +dwelling-place, e.g. Fafnir's abode is called "the lone destroyer's +fold." + +_Folk_, people. It is often joined with other words, e.g. man-folk, +Goth-folk. _Folk of the-war-wands forgers_, are the race of dwarfs who +had great skill in the making of weapons. + +_Fond_, used in Old English to mean "foolish," or sometimes only to +give emphasis, as in the expression "thy fondest need," meaning "thy +greatest need." + +_Foot-hills_, the lower hills round the base of a very high mountain. + +_Fore-ordained_, settled by the will of the gods in early times. + +_Foster_, to rear, to bring up a child, to care for, to shelter, +e.g. "Now would I foster Sigurd;" "the house that fostered me." + +_Franklin_, a well-to-do farmer, one who is not merely a hired +servant. + +_Freyia_, the wife of Odin and chief of the goddesses. + + +_Gainsay_, to resist, to refuse a request. + +_Gaping Gap_, a name given to the state of things that existed before +the world was made. There was supposed to have been an empty space +till Odin created the world of gods and men. + +_Garner_, to gather up, to store up; sometimes, to reap. + +_Garth_, an enclosure, a place from which things may be garnered, +e.g. "within the garth that it (the wall) girdeth." + +_Gear_, a word used with many meanings, as, dress, arms, possessions, +anything that a person has or uses, e.g. war-gear, all a man's +armour and weapons; mail-gear, a man's armour. + +_Gird_, to tie round, to be all round, e.g. "The Wrath to his side +is girded;" "a wall doth he behold ... but within the garth that it +girdeth no work of man is set." + +_Glaive_, a sword. + +_God-home_, Asgard. + +_Gold-bestrider_, the name given to Sigurd by Giuki because he rode +with the treasure of gold upon his saddle. To bestride is to stand +over anything with one foot on each side. + +_Good-heart_, kindly strength. + +_Goodlihead_, a word of praise which is generally used to mean bodily +beauty, but sometimes to mean beauty of character. + +_Grovel_, to crouch low on the ground. + +_Guest-fain_, hospitable, ready to welcome guests. + +_Guile_, cunning, cleverness used for an evil purpose. + +_Guise_, appearance, kind, dress, e.g. "such was the guise of his +raiment;" "fair-clad in hunter's guise." + + +_Halers of the hawsers_, pullers of the ropes, _i.e._ seamen. + +_Hallow_, to set apart for a solemn purpose, to make holy, e.g. I +hallow me to Odin for a leader of his host. + +_Hangings_, tapestry, woven stuff on which pictures or figures of gods +and heroes were embroidered, used to decorate the walls of houses, +e.g. "The walls were strange and wondrous with noble stories told;" +"the gods on the hangings stirred." + +_Harness_, armour. + +_Hauberk_, a breast-plate. + +_Heave_, to rise and fall, sometimes merely to rise, e.g. "The doom ... +heaves up dim through the gloom." + +_High-seat_, the dais or chief seat where the master of a house and +his principal guests sat. + +_High-tide_, time of festival. + +_Hindfell_, the word means "deer-mountain," since "fell" means any +hill, and "hind" is the word we still use for a deer. + +_Hireling_, a servant. + +_Hist_, to give attention, to listen. + +_Hithermost_, nearest. + +_Hoard_, a store. Generally used of a treasure which the owner keeps +selfishly, e.g. Fafnir's wisdom is called "grudged and hoarded +wisdom," and his gold the "heavy hoard." + +_Hoenir_, one of Odin's sons; a wise and blameless god who, the others +believed, would return to reign over a new heaven and a new earth when +Ragnarok was past. + +_Holt_, a woodland. + +_Hoppled_, fettered. + +_Horse-fed_, cropped by horses. + +_Horse-herd_, keeper of horses. "Herd" means any keeper of animals, +and is generally joined with other words, e.g. shepherd, swine-herd. + +_Huddled_, twisted together in a small space. + + +_Intent_, intention, purpose. In the passage, "For whom is the +blood-point whetted and the edge of thine intent?" the meaning is, +"Against whom is thy sword sharpened, and against whom is thy purpose +so keen?" + + +_Kin_, family, relations. _Kin of the Wolf_, Loki and his children, +one of whom was a monstrous wolf which was to fight against the gods +at Ragnarok. + +_Kine_, cattle. + +_Kirtle_, a long cloak. + + +_Lack_, loss, e.g. "He knew there was ruin and lack." "The lack that +made him loth" is used to describe the ring of Andvari which he was +unwilling to give up with the rest of his treasure to Loki. n. "To +be without," or, "to be found wanting." + +_Lay_, a song. + +_Lea_, a meadow. + +_Leeches_, doctors. + +_Lief_, willing. + +_Lift_, the arch of the sky overhead, the highest part of the sky. + +_Linden_, the lime-tree. + +_Linked mail_, armour made of rings linked together. + +_Lintel_, the top of a doorway. + +_List_, to wish, to choose. + +_Litten_, lighted up; cf. red-litten, torch-litten. + +_Long-ships_, ships of war. + +_Lore_, learning, knowledge. + +_Loth_, unwilling, grieved. + + +_Mar_, to spoil, disfigure. + +_Mark_, boundary, borderland. + +_Masters of God-home_, the gods of Asgard against whom the giants and +all foul monsters were constantly at war. + +_Mattock_, a pick-axe. + +_Mead_, a meadow. + +_Mew_, a sea-gull. + +_Mid-mirk_, thick darkness. _Mirk_, darkness. + +_Midward_, prime, best days. + +_Midworld_, the earth; the home of men as distinguished from Asgard, +the home of the gods, and Niflheim, the home of the dead. + +_Minish_, to grow less. + +_Moon-wake_, the long straight path of light made by the moon on +water. + +_Murder-churls,_ fierce and suspicious men ready to slay a guest. + +_Mute_, dumb, silent. + + +_Nether_, lower. + +_Niggard_, grudging, miserly, unproductive, e.g. the Glittering +Heath is called "niggard ground." + +_Norns_, the three maidens who decided the fates of gods and men. +Their names were Urd, Verdandi and Skuld, or Past, Present, and +Future, and they were more powerful than the gods themselves, e.g. +"Gone, forth is the will of the Norns, that abideth ever the same." + + +_Odin's door_, a warrior's shield. + +_Odin's Hall_, Valhalla, to which went the souls of warriors slain in +battle. + + +_Pall_, a cloak of state; most commonly used in the expression "purple +and pall." + +_Passing_, very; used to give emphasis, e.g. "He loveth her passing +sore," where both words are simply emphatic. + +_Peace-strings_, the strings which tied a sword into its sheath when +it was not in use. + +_Peers_, equals in age and rank. + +_People's Praise_. Odin, chief of the gods. "The death of the People's +Praise" is Ragnarok, the time when Odin and all his fellow gods were +to be destroyed. + +_Purblind_, dim-sighted. The syllable "pur" is a form of the word +pure, and gives emphasis to blind. + +_Purple_, cloth dyed with a purple dye made from the murex, a +shell-fish found in the Mediterranean. The secret of making it was +known only to the "southern men" or Phoenician traders of Tyre and +Sidon. + + +_Quarry_, game, prey, the animal chased by a hunter. + +_Quell_, to stop, make to cease. + +_Quicken_, to rouse, bring to life. + + +_Ravening_, devouring, eager for prey; often used of wild animals. + +_Reck_, to notice, care about. + +_Reek_, smoke rising from a fire, or spray and mist from a waterfall, +e.g. "the reek of the falling flood;" "the heart of Fafnir ... sang +among the reek." + +_Renown_, fame, honour. + +_Rock-wall_, mountain cliff. + +_Roof-tree_, the topmost beam which forms the ridge of a roof. + +_Rue_, to regret, to find a cause of woe. + +_Rumour_, report, gossiping tale. + +_Rune_, letter. The letters used in old Icelandic and similar +languages are called runic characters. When written letters were first +known in the north of Europe they were supposed to have magic powers, +and gradually the word "rune" came to mean any spell, or even any +wisdom which was beyond the ordinary knowledge of men. + +_Ruth_, pity, regret, e.g. "Ruth arose in his heart;" "I have +hearkened not nor heeded the words of thy fear and thy ruth." + + +_Salutation_, greeting. + +_Sate_, satisfy to the full. + +_Scalds_, the poets who recited poems or stories at feasts. + +_Scoff_, an object of mockery. + +_Scored_, carved, marked by lines cut deeply into a surface. + +_Sea-beast's tooth_, the tusks of the walrus. + +_Sea-mead_, the wide surface of the sea. The word means sea-meadow. + +_Seethe_, to bubble and move like boiling water. + +_Semblance_, an appearance, outward show where there is no reality. + +_Serry_, to crowd closely together. + +_Shards_, broken fragments, e.g. "the shards of a glaive of battle." + +_Shield-burg_, a fortress built of shields. Burg means either a town, +a castle, or a fortress. + +_Shield-wall_, the defence made by fighting men holding their shields +close together as they stand at bay. + +_Shift_, n. a trick, cunning plan, e.g. "my cunning shifts;" n. +to contrive, be able, e.g. "the man whose heart and hand may shift, +To pluck it from the oak-wood." + +_Shimmer_, to gleam and change colour as the light alters. + +_Skerry_, a rocky island near the coast. + +_Slaked_, cooled, put out; used of anything that has been burning and +is now grown cold. + +_Sleight_, cunning, trickery. Loki is called "the Master of Sleight" +because of his skill in deceit. + +_Sleipnir_, Odin's horse. It was grey, had eight feet, and could carry +him over sea and land, and could also fly through the air. + +_Slot_, the track left by a wild animal. + +_Sloth_, idleness. + +_Smithy_, to do the work of a smith, forge weapons. + +_Sooth_, truth. + +_Sore_, very much. It is generally used about things which are evil or +painful, but sometimes only to give emphasis, e.g. "amber that the +southern men love sore." + +_Spear-hedge_, the bristling spears of an army in battle; cf. +battle-wood, spear-wood. + +_Spell-drenched_, stupefied or overwhelmed by magic. + +_Sphere-stream_, the space beyond the air of this world, in which the +planets or spheres move on their courses. + +_Stark_, stiff, hard, severe. + +_Staunch_, steadfast, unchanging. + +_Stead_, n. a place; it is often joined to other words, e.g. +hall-stead, a hall or the place where a hall has been, as in the +sentence, "I went to the pillared hall-stead;" n. _stead or +bestead_, to serve, to aid, e.g. "to stead me in the fight." + +_Steadfast_, unchanging, faithful, unmoved. + +_Stithy_, a blacksmith's forge. + +_Strait_, narrow, cramped. + +_Stripling_, a young man just grown up; cf. youngling. + +_Sunder_, to separate, e.g. "We wend on the sundering ways." + +_Sun-dog_, a bright spot like a faint image of the sun, seen near it +in cloudy weather. + +_Swaddling_, anything that wraps or enfolds, e.g. the coils of +Fafnir passing over Sigurd in the pit are called "the swaddling of +death." + +_Swart-haired_, dark-haired. + +_Swathe_, the long line of mown corn behind a reaper; cf. "swathes +of the sword," _i.e._ heaps of dead in battle. + + +_Targe_, a shield. + +_Tarry_, to wait, to linger, e.g. "Tarry till I say a word." + +_Thrall_, a slave, "_short-lived thralls of the gods_," mortal men, +not dwarfs or giants. + +_Tide_, time, e.g. "the tide when my father fell;" "the night-tide." + +_Tiles of Odin_, war shields, so called because Odin was god of war. + +_Tiller_, the handle of the rudder which steers a ship. + +_Toils_, snares, fetters. + +_To-morn_, tomorrow morning. + +_Train_, to entice, bring by trickery. + +_Tree-hole_, tree-trunk. + +_Troth_, a promise, generally a promise of marriage. + +_Troth-plight_, promised in marriage. + +_Trow_, to believe. + +_Twi-bill_, an axe with a double-edged blade. It was the weapon which +Odin carried when he appeared to men. + + +_Unbitted_, never taught to obey the bit, not broken in. + +_Unholpen_, unhelped. Holpen is the old form of the p.p. helped. + +_Unstable_, changeable, not lasting. + +_Uttermost horn_, the signal for Ragnarok. It was believed that +Heimdall, one of the gods who guarded a bridge called Bifrost between +Asgard and the earth, would blow a blast on his horn which would be +the sign for the beginning of the great battle between the gods and +the powers of evil. + + +_Venom_, poison. + + +_Wall-nook_, an opening or bend in a wall. + +_Wallow_, to roll about upon the ground, e.g. "Fafnir, the wallower +on the gold." + +_Wan_, pale, pinched with suffering. + +_Wane_, to fade away, grow dim. + +_Warding-walls_, guarding-walls. "_Warding walls of death_," man's +armour that keeps death from him. + +_Wards_, keepers, e.g. door-wards; cf. warden. Fafnir is called +"the gold-warden." + +_War-wand_, a sword. + +_Wary_, careful, ever on the watch. + +_Waste_, to destroy, to sweep away, e.g. Sigurd is said to "waste +every wrong." + +_Waxen_, grown, become. + +_Weal_, happiness, good-fortune. + +_Wedge-array_, an arrangement of fighting men in which they stood +close together in the form of a triangle. + +_Weed_, dress. + +_Well up_, to rise as a spring bubbles out of the ground; used of +feelings with the meaning "to arise and grow strong," e.g. "Wrath in +his heart wells up." + +_Welter_, the toss and ripple of the sea-waves. + +_Wend_, to go. + +_Whetted_, stirred up, made sharp or eager, e.g. "the whetted +Wrath." + +_Whileome_, in the past, once upon a time. + +_Whiles_, from time to time. + +_Whit_, a very small particle, a trifle, e.g. never a whit, no whit. + +_Wight_, a man, a creature, e.g. sea-wights, great sea-monsters. + +_Wise_, way, manner, after the fashion of. + +_Witch-wife_, witch. Wife here means woman. + +_Wold_, a hill; often used to mean open country. + +_Wood-craft_, knowledge of the woods and of all creatures in them, +e.g. "His wood-craft waxed so great, that he seemed the king of the +creatures." + +_Wot_, to know. + +_Wrack_, strife, destruction, ruins. _Wrack of a mighty battle_, the +dead left on the field. + +_Wrights_, workmen, makers. + +_Writhen_, bent, twisted out of shape, e.g. "Writhen and foul were +the hands that made it glorious." + +_Written spear_, a spear carved with letters or words. + + +_Yearn_, to long, to feel tenderness towards, e.g. "My heart to him +doth yearn." + +_Yore_, long ago; generally used in the expression "of yore," +formerly, once upon a time. + + + + + +LONGMANS' CLASS-BOOKS OF ENGLISH LITERATURE + +Each Volume contains an Introduction and Notes. + +Alcott's Little Women. + +Allen's Heroes of Indian History and Stories of their Times. With Maps +and Illustrations. + +Anderson's English Letters selected for Reading in Schools. + +Arnold's Sohrab and Rustum, and Balder Dead. + +Ballantyne's The Coral Island. (Abridged). + +Carroll's Alice in Wonderland. + +Cook's (Captain) Voyages. + +Defoe's Robinson Crusoe. (Abridged). With Illustrations. + +Dickens' A Christmas Carol. + +Dickens, Selections from. With Illustrations. + +Doyle's Micah Clarke. (Abridged). With 20 Illustrations. + +Doyle's The Refugees. (Abridged). With Illustrations. + +Doyle's The White Company. (Abridged). With 12 Illustrations. + +Fronde's Short Studies on Great Subjects. Selections. With Illustrations. + +Haggard's Eric Bright eyes. (Abridged). + +Haggard's Lysbeth. (Abridged). + +Hawthorne's A Wonder Book. + +Hawthorne's Tanglewood Tales. + +Hughes' Tom Brown's School Days. (Abridged) With Frontispiece. + +Jefferies (Richard), Selections from. + +Kingsley's The Heroes. With Illustrations. + +Kingsley's Hereward the Wake. (Abridged). + +Kingsley's Westward Ho! + +Lambs' Tales from Shakespeare. (Abridged.) + +Lang's Tales of the Greek Seas. With Illustrations. + +Lang's Tales of Troy. With Illustrations and a Map. + +Macaulay's History of England. Chap I. + +Macaulay's History of England. Chap III. + +Macaulay's History of England, Selections from. + +Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome, &c. + +Marryat's Settlers in Canada. + +Milton's Paradise Lost. Books I, II, III, IV, and V. + +Milton's Comus, Il Penseroso, L'Allegro and Lycidas. + +Morris's Atalanta's Race, and The Proud King. + +Morris's The Man Born to be King. + +Morris's The Story of the Glittering Plain. + +Morris's The Story of Sigurd the Volsung. + +Newman, Literary Selections from. + +Reade's The Cloister and the Hearth. + +Ruskin's King of the Golden River. + +Scott's Lay of the Last Minstrel. + +Scott's Marmion. + +Scott's The Lady of the Lake. + +Scott's The Talisman. (Abridged). + +Scott's A Legend of Montrose. (Abridged). + +Scott's Ivanhoe. (Abridged). + +Scott's Quentin Durward. (Abridged). + +Southey's The Life of Nelson. + +Stevenson's Book of Selections. + +Stevenson's A Child's Garden of Verse. With a Portrait. + +Tales of King Arthur and the Round Table. With Illustrations. + +Thackeray, Selections from. + +Thornton's Selection of Poetry. + +Weyman's The House of the Wolf. + +Zimmern's Gods and Heroes of the North. With Illustrations. + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13486 *** diff --git a/13486-h/13486-h.htm b/13486-h/13486-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..846dbed --- /dev/null +++ b/13486-h/13486-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5371 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8"> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Story of Sigurd the Volsung, by William Morris, et al</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + } + HR { width: 33%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .note {margin-left: 2em; margin-right: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} /* footnote */ + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} /* page numbers */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: 1em; padding-left: 1em; font-size: smaller; float: right; clear: right;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem .tb {display: block; margin-left: 8em;} /* thought break indent for HR tag */ + .poem span {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em;} + .poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 8em;} + .poem span.i12 {display: block; margin-left: 12em;} + .poem span.i14 {display: block; margin-left: 14em;} + hr.full { width: 100%; + height: 5px; } + a:link {color:#0000ff; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:#0000ff; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:#0000ff; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:#ff0000} + pre {font-size: 8pt;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13486 ***</div> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Story of Sigurd the Volsung, by William +Morris, et al</h1> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr class="full" noshade> +<br> +<br> +<br /><a name='Page_1'></a><a name='Page_2'></a><a name='Page_3'></a> +<h1>THE STORY OF +SIGURD THE VOLSUNG</h1> + +<h4>Written In Verse By</h4> + +<h2>WILLIAM MORRIS</h2> + +<h4>With Portions Condensed Into Prose By</h4> + +<h3>WINIFRED TURNER, B.A.</h3> +<h4>Late Assistant Mistress, Ware Grammar School For Girls +And</h4> +<h3>HELEN SCOTT, M.A.</h3> + + +<h5>1922</h5> +<br /> +<a name='Page_4'></a> + +<br /> +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<br /> +<br /> +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Adapted. --> + <a href='#BIOG_INTRODUCTION'><b>BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION</b></a><br /> + <a href='#INTRODUCTION_TO_SIGURD'><b>INTRODUCTION TO SIGURD</b></a><br /> + <a href='#BOOK_I'><b>BOOK_I.</b></a><br /> + <a href='#BOOK_II'><b>BOOK II.</b></a><br /> + <a href='#BOOK_III'><b>BOOK III.</b></a><br /> + <a href='#GLOSSARY'><b>GLOSSARY</b></a><br /> + +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + +<br /> +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<br /> + +<a name='BIOG_INTRODUCTION'></a><h2><a name='Page_5'></a>BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION</h2> + +<h3>By J. W. Mackail</h3> +<br /> + +<p>William Morris, one of the most eminent imaginative writers of the +Victorian age, differs from most other poets and men of letters in +two ways—first, he did great work in many other things as well as in +literature; secondly, he had beliefs of his own about the meaning and +conduct of life, about all that men think and do and make, very +different from those of ordinary people, and he carried out these +views in his writings as well as in all the other work he did +throughout his life.</p> + +<p>He was born in 1834. His father, a member of a business firm in the +City of London, was a wealthy man and lived in Essex, in a country +house with large gardens and fields belonging to it, on the edge of +Epping Forest. Until the age of thirteen Morris was at home among a +large family of brothers and sisters. He delighted in the country +life and especially in the Forest, which is one of the most romantic +parts of England, and which he made the scene of many real and +imaginary adventures. From fourteen to eighteen he was at school at +Marlborough among the Wiltshire downs, in a country full of beauty and +history, and close to another of the ancient forests of England, that +of Savernake. He proceeded from school to Exeter College, Oxford, +where he soon formed a close friendship with a remarkable set of young +men of his own age; chief among these, and Morris's closest friend for +the rest of his life, was Edward Burne-Jones, the painter. Study of +the works of John <a name='Page_6'></a>Ruskin confirmed them in the admiration which they +already felt for the life and art of the Middle Ages. In the summer +vacation of 1855 the two friends went to Northern France to see the +beautiful towns and splendid churches with which that country had been +filled between the eleventh and the fifteenth centuries; and there +they made up their minds that they cared for art more than for +anything else, such as wealth or ease or the opinion of the world, +and that as soon as they left Oxford they would become artists. +By art they meant the making of beauty for the adornment and +enrichment of human life, and as artists they meant to strive against +all that was ugly or mean or untruthful in the life of their own time.</p> + +<p>Art, as they understood it, is one single thing covering the whole +of life but practised in many special forms that differ one from +another. Among these many forms of art there are two of principal +importance. One of the two is the art which is concerned with the +making and adorning of the houses in which men and women live; that is +to say, architecture, with all its attendant arts of decoration, +including sculpture, painting, the designing and ornamenting of +metal, wood and glass, carpets, paper-hangings, woven, dyed and +embroidered cloths of all kinds, and all the furniture which a house +may have for use or pleasure. The other is the art which is concerned +with the making and adorning of stories in prose and verse. Both of +these kinds of art were practised by Morris throughout his life. The +former was his principal occupation; he made his living by it, and +built up in it a business which alone made him famous, and which has +had a great influence towards bringing more beauty into daily domestic +life in England and in other countries also. His profession was thus +that of a manufacturer, designer, and decorator. When he had to +describe himself by a single word, he called himself a designer. But +it is the latter branch of his art which <a name='Page_7'></a>principally concerns us now, +the art of a maker and adorner of stories. He became famous in this +kind of art also, both in prose and verse, as a romance-writer and a +poet. But he spoke of it as play rather than work, and although he +spent much time and great pains on it, he regarded it as relaxation +from the harder and more constant work of his life, which was carrying +on the business of designing, painting, weaving, dyeing, printing and +other occupations of that kind. In later life he also gave much of his +time to political and social work, with the object of bringing back +mankind into a path from which they had strayed since the end of the +Middle Ages, and creating a state of society in which art, by the +people and for the people, a joy to the maker and the user, might be +naturally, easily, and universally produced.</p> + +<p>Even as a boy Morris had been noted for his love of reading and +inventing tales; but he did not begin to write any until he had been +for a couple of years at Oxford. His earliest poems and his earliest +written prose tales belong to the same year, 1855, in which he +determined to make art his profession. The first of either that he +published appeared in the Oxford and Cambridge Magazine, which was +started and managed by him and his friends in 1856. In 1858, after he +had left Oxford, he brought out a volume of poems called, after the +title of the first poem in the book, "The Defence of Guenevere." Soon +afterwards he founded, with some of his old Oxford friends and others +whom he had made in London, among whom Dante Gabriel Rossetti was the +leading spirit, the firm of Morris and Company, manufacturers and +decorators. His business, in which he was the principal and finally +the sole partner, took up the main part of his time. He had also +married, and built himself a beautiful small house in Kent, the +decoration of which went busily on for several years. Among all these +other occupations he almost gave up writing stories, but never ceased +<a name='Page_8'></a>reading and thinking about them. In 1865 he came back to live in +London, where, being close to his work, he had more leisure for other +things; and between 1865 and 1870 he wrote between thirty and forty +tales in verse, containing not less than seventy or eighty thousand +lines in all. The longest of these tales, "The Life and Death of +Jason," appeared in 1867. It is the old Greek story of the ship Argo +and the voyage in quest of the Golden Fleece. Twenty-five other tales +are included in "The Earthly Paradise," published in three parts +between 1868 and 1870.</p> + +<p>During these years Morris learned Icelandic, and his next published +works were translations of some of the Icelandic sagas, writings +composed from six to nine hundred years ago, and containing a mass of +legends, histories and romances finely told in a noble language. These +translations were followed in 1876 by his great epic poem, "Sigurd the +Volsung and the Fall of the Niblungs." In that poem he retold a story +of which an Icelandic version, the "Volsunga Saga," written in the +twelfth century, is one of the world's masterpieces. It is the great +epic of Northern Europe, just as the "Iliad" and "Odyssey" of Homer +are the chief epics of ancient Greece, and the "Æneid" of Virgil the +chief epic of the Roman Empire. Morris's love for these great stories +of ancient times led him to rewrite the tale of the Volsungs and +Niblungs, which he reckoned the finest of them all, more fully and on +a larger scale than it had ever been written before. He had already, +in 1875, translated the "Æneid" into verse, and some ten years later, +in 1886-87, he also made a verse translation of the "Odyssey." In 1873 +he had also written another very beautiful poem, "Love is Enough," +containing the story of three pairs of lovers, a countryman and +country-woman, an emperor and empress, and a prince and peasant girl. +This poem was written in the form of a play, not of a narrative.</p> + +<p><a name='Page_9'></a>To write prose was at first for Morris more difficult than to write +poetry. Verse came naturally to him, and he composed in prose only +with much effort until after long practice. Except for his early tales +in the Oxford and Cambridge Magazine and his translations of Icelandic +sagas, he wrote little but poetry until the year 1882. About that time +he began to give lectures and addresses, and wrote them in great +numbers during the latter part of his life. A number of them were +collected and published in two volumes called "Hopes and Fears for +Art" and "Signs of Change," and many others have been published +separately. He thus gradually accustomed himself to prose composition. +For several years he was too busy with other things, which he thought +more important, to spend time on storytelling; but his instinct forced +itself out again, and in 1886 he began the series of romances in prose +or in mixed prose and verse which went on during the next ten years. +The chief of these are, "A Dream of John Ball," "The House of +Wolfings," "The Roots of the Mountains," "News from Nowhere," "The +Glittering Plain," "The Wood beyond the World," "The Well at the +World's End," "The Water of the Wondrous Isles," and "The Sundering +Flood." During the same years he also translated, out of +Icelandic and old French books, more of the stories which he had +long known and admired. "The Sundering Flood" was written in his last +illness, and finished by him within a few days of his death, in the +autumn of 1896.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='INTRODUCTION_TO_SIGURD'></a><h2><a name='Page_10'></a>INTRODUCTION TO SIGURD</h2> + +<h3>By The Editors</h3> +<br /> + +<p>The story of Sigurd is important to English people not only for its +wondrous beauty, but also on account of its great age, and of what it +tells us about our own Viking ancestors, who first knew the story.</p> + +<p>The tale was known all over the north of Europe, in Denmark, in +Germany, in Norway and Sweden, and in Iceland, hundreds of years +before it was written down. Sometimes different names were given to +the characters, sometimes the events of the story were slightly +altered, but in the main points it was one and the same tale.</p> + +<p>If we look at a map of Europe showing the nations as they were rather +more than a thousand years ago, we see the names of Saxons, Goths, +Danes, and Frisians marked on the lands around the Baltic Sea. Those +who bore these names were the makers of the tale of Sigurd. The name +of the Saxons is, of course, the best known to us, and next in +importance come the people we call Danes, or Northmen, or Vikings, who +attacked the coasts of the Saxon kingdoms in England. The Saxons came +from part of the land that is now known as Germany, and the Vikings +from Denmark and from Scandinavia.</p> + +<p>A third important tribe was that of the Goths, who dwelt first in +South Sweden, and then in Germany.</p> + +<p>All these people resembled one another in their way of life, in their +religion, and in their ideas of what deeds were good and what were +evil. Their lands were barren—too mountainous or <a name='Page_11'></a>too cold to bring +forth fruitful crops, and their homes were not such as would tempt men +never to leave them. So, though they built their little groups of +wooden houses in the valleys of their lands, and made fields and +pastures about them, these were often left to the care of the women +and the feeble men, while the strong men made raids over the sea to +other countries, where they engaged in the fighting which they loved, +and whence they brought back plunder to their homes. North, South, +East, and West they went, till few parts of Europe had not learnt to +know and fear them.</p> + +<p>Their ships were long and narrow, driven often by oars as well as +sails, and outside them, along the bulwarks, the crew hung their round +shields made of yellow wood from the lime-tree. The men wore byrnies +or breast-plates, and helmets, and they were armed with swords, long +spears, or heavy battle-axes. They were enemies none could afford to +despise, for they had great stature and strength of body, joined to +such fierceness and delight in war that they held a man disgraced if +he died peacefully at home. Moreover, they knew nothing of mercy to +the conquered.</p> + +<p>Courage, not only to fight, but also to bear suffering without +impatience or complaint, and the virtue of faithfulness were the +qualities they most honoured. To be wanting in courage was disgraceful +in their eyes, but it was equally disgraceful to refuse to help +kinsfolk, to lie, to deceive, or to desert a chief.</p> + +<p>If they put their enemies to death with fearful tortures, they did not +treat them more severely than the traitors they discovered among +themselves, and if they had no pity for those they conquered, yet they +knew well how to admire great leaders, and how to serve them +faithfully. But we can best realise their ideas on these matters by +considering their religion and their stories.</p> + +<p>They worshipped one chief god, Odin, and other gods and <a name='Page_12'></a>goddesses who +were his children. Odin was often called All-father because he was the +helper and friend of human beings, and appeared on earth in the form +of an old man, "one-eyed and seeming ancient," with cloud-blue hood +and grey cloak. He had courage, strength, and wondrous wisdom, for he +knew all events that happened in the world, and he understood the +speech of birds, and all kinds of charms and magic arts. Men served +him by brave fighting in a good cause, and when they perished in +battle he received their souls in his dwelling of Valhalla in the city +of Asgard, where they spent each day in warfare, and where at evening +the dead were revived, the wounded healed, and all feasted together in +Odin's palace. There they fed upon the flesh of the boar Saehrimner, +which was renewed as fast as it was eaten. Certain maidens called +Valkyrie, or Choosers of the Slain, were Odin's messengers whom he +sent forth into the battles of the world to find the warriors whom he +had appointed to die, and to bring them to Valhalla.</p> + +<p>In the story of Sigurd Odin has a very important part to play, but +for the understanding of the tale it is necessary to know something +about another of the gods. This is Loki, who, though sprung from the +race of the giants, yet lived with the sons of Odin in Asgard, +behaving sometimes as their trusty helper, but more often as their +cunning enemy. He caused much wretchedness, not only among the gods, +but on earth also, for he delighted in the sight of misery. His vices +were all those most hateful to the Norse people, for he was before +all things a liar, a deceiver, a faith-breaker, a skilful worker of +mischief by guile instead of by fair fight. There are many stories of +his cunning thefts, of the miseries he wrought among his companions, +and of his envy of the beloved god Balder, whom he slew by a trick. +His children were terrible monsters, as hated as himself. Yet, +strange to say, Loki was Odin's companion in many of his adventures.</p> + +<p><a name='Page_13'></a>The gods inhabited Asgard, a city standing on a high mountain in the +middle of the world. Odin's palace of Valhalla was there, and other +palaces for his sons and daughters. All round Asgard lay Midgard, or +the ordinary world of men and women. Its caves and waste places were +inhabited by dwarfs, whom Odin had banished from the light of day for +various ill deeds. They were a spiteful and cunning race, jealous of +mankind, and eager to recover their lost power. Their strength lay in +their wondrous skill in handicraft, for they could forge more deadly +weapons, and fashion more lovely jewels than any made by the hands of +men. But, though possessed of wisdom, they had no spirit of kindness, +no respect for right, and no dislike of wrong.</p> + +<p>Around Midgard lay the sea, and beyond that Utgard, a hideous frozen +country inhabited by giants, enemies of the gods.</p> + +<p>But this arrangement of the world was only for a season. The gods +themselves looked forward to a time of defeat and death, when Asgard +should perish in flames and the world with it, and the sun and moon +should be darkened, and they themselves should be slain. This great +day was called Ragnarok, or sometimes the Twilight of the Gods. Then +Loki would gather giants and monsters to a great battle against the +gods, who would slay their enemies, but who would themselves fall in +the struggle. The sea would drown the earth, the stars would fall, +and all things would pass away.</p> + +<p>This terrible fate the gods awaited with calm and cheerfulness, +showing even greater courage than in their many deeds of war. They +had to submit to this fate, for there were three beings even greater +than they. These were the Norns, deciders of the fate of gods and men +alike. They were three giant maidens who dwelt by a sacred, +wisdom-giving fountain, and who controlled the lives of men, giving +to each sickness and health, success <a name='Page_14'></a>and failure and death when they +would. No man or god might escape what the Norns decreed for him.</p> + +<p>Many stories of these gods, together with tales of famous men, were +told among the northern peoples. These stories were passed on from +one to another by word of mouth, till they grew much longer and +fuller, and the happening of certain historical events helped to take +them from country to country.</p> + +<p>As we have seen, all the races of the North were warlike and eager +for adventure, and so when trouble came upon them in their own homes, +they readily took to the sea to plunder the coasts or to conquer +other lands. Between 800 and 900 A.D., when the Danes were invading +England, many were driven from Norway because they refused to submit +to a king called Harold Fairhair, and when he pursued them to the +Orkney and Faroe Islands they took refuge on the coasts of Iceland. +There they settled, built themselves wooden houses, planted such +crops as would grow in that bleak land, and founded a commonwealth. +Little by little they left the old Viking life, and it lived only in +their songs and stories.</p> + +<p>They had come to Iceland with a vast stock of tales in poetry, which +were related or sung by professional poets, called skalds, at all +kinds of feasts and gatherings. The skalds arranged and improved the +old stories, but they were not written down until about the time of +our King Stephen, when some unknown writer collected them into one +book called the Elder Edda. Very soon after this another book was +written containing the same stories in prose and called the Younger +or Prose Edda. In this way many of the old poems, and a great many +stories containing much information about the religion which the +people took with them to Iceland, have been preserved.</p> + +<p>But it was from neither of the Eddas that William Morris took his +story of Sigurd.</p> + +<p><a name='Page_15'></a>All through the period from 800 A.D. till about the time of Henry III. +of England, the skalds had been re-telling many of the poetic stories +in prose, and as the people grew more civilised, one tale after +another was written down in its new form.</p> + +<p>These prose tales were called Sagas, and among the very greatest is +the Volsunga Saga, or Story of Sigurd. It is a tale which has been +told in other lands besides Iceland. We read part of the same story +in the Old English poem of Beowulf, and in Germany it was made into +a great poem called the Nibelungenlied. The German musician, Richard +Wagner, set it to music in a famous series of operas called the +Nibelungen Ring. But his tale differs in many points from that +contained in Morris's poem, for Morris chose the old saga as it was +written in Iceland, not the German story. On this he founded his poem, +adding much beautiful description, and greatly lengthening the whole.</p> + +<p>The story deals first with a certain King Volsung, to whose son, +Sigmund, Odin presented a magic sword.</p> + +<p>But Siggeir, the jealous king of the Goths, slew Volsung, and took +Sigmund prisoner that he might have the sword for himself. Only after +many toils and perils did Sigmund win it back and reign in his +father's kingdom. At last in his old age he fell in battle and the +sword of Odin was shattered. But his wife, Queen Hiordis, kept the +fragments for the son who was born to her soon after in Denmark, +whither she fled for safety. This son of Sigmund and Hiordis was +Sigurd the Volsung. He was brought up in Denmark and grew strong +and beautiful, brave, kind of heart, and utterly truthful in word +and deed.</p> + +<p>When he became a man he longed to win fame and kingship by mighty +deeds, and when his tutor told him of a great dragon that guarded a +hoard of ill-gotten gold in the mountains, he resolved <a name='Page_16'></a>to kill it. So +the fragments of Odin's sword were forged into a new blade, and +Sigurd slew the dragon and took the gold, but with it he brought on +himself a curse which had been put upon the treasure by the dwarf +from whom it had been stolen.</p> + +<p>Sigurd then found and wakened Brynhild, a maiden who lay in an +enchanted sleep upon a high mountain. They loved one another, and +Sigurd gave her a ring from the dragon's treasure, promising to +return and marry her.</p> + +<p>Then the curse led him to join with the fierce and treacherous +Niblungs or Cloudy People. Their king and his mother grew jealous +when they saw Sigurd more mighty and more beloved than themselves, +and by enchantments they caused him to forget Brynhild, to wed the +princess Gudrun, and at last to aid the Niblung king, Gunnar, to win +Brynhild for his own wife.</p> + +<p>Then the curse of the gold brought death to many, for Sigurd and +Brynhild discovered all the treachery of the Niblungs, who, in their +anger, slew Sigurd, and Brynhild killed herself that she might not +live and sorrow for him.</p> + +<p>Such is the story of Sigurd as it was told a thousand years ago in +distant Iceland, and as it is retold in this poem by William Morris.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<h1><a name='Page_17'></a>THE STORY OF<br /> +SIGURD THE VOLSUNG.</h1> +<br /> + +<a name='BOOK_I'></a><h2>BOOK I.</h2> + +<h3>SIGMUND.</h3> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of the dwelling of King Volsung, and the wedding of Signy his +daughter.</i></p> + + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>There was a dwelling of Kings ere the world was waxen old;<br /></span> +<span>Dukes were the door-wards there, and the roofs were thatched with gold:<br /></span> +<span>Earls were the wrights that wrought it, and silver nailed its doors;<br /></span> +<span>Earls' wives were the weaving-women, queens' daughters strewed its floors,<br /></span> +<span>And the masters of its song-craft were the mightiest men that cast<br /></span> +<span>The sails of the storm of battle adown the bickering blast.<br /></span> +<span>There dwelt men merry-hearted, and in hope exceeding great<br /></span> +<span>Met the good days and the evil as they went the way of fate:<br /></span> +<span>There the Gods were unforgotten, yea whiles they walked with men,<br /></span> +<span>Though e'en in that world's beginning rose a murmur now and again<br /></span> +<span>Of the midward time and the fading and the last of the latter days,<br /></span> +<span>And the entering in of the terror, and the death of the People's Praise.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Thus was the dwelling of Volsung, the King of the Midworld's Mark,<br /></span> +<span>As a rose in the winter season, a candle in the dark;<br /></span> +<span>And as in all other matters 'twas all earthly houses' crown,<br /></span> +<span>And the least of its wall-hung shields was a battle-world's renown,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_18'></a>So therein withal was a marvel and a glorious thing to see,<br /></span> +<span>For amidst of its midmost hall-floor sprang up a mighty tree,<br /></span> +<span>That reared its blessings roofward, and wreathed the roof-tree dear<br /></span> +<span>With the glory of the summer and the garland of the year.<br /></span> +<span>I know not how they called it ere Volsung changed his life,<br /></span> +<span>But his dawning of fair promise, and his noontide of the strife,<br /></span> +<span>His eve of the battle-reaping and the garnering of his fame,<br /></span> +<span>Have bred us many a story and named us many a name;<br /></span> +<span>And when men tell of Volsung, they call that war-duke's tree,<br /></span> +<span>That crownèd stem, the Branstock; and so was it told unto me.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So there was the throne of Volsung beneath its blossoming bower,<br /></span> +<span>But high o'er the roof-crest red it rose 'twixt tower and tower,<br /></span> +<span>And therein were the wild hawks dwelling, abiding the dole of their lord;<br /></span> +<span>And they wailed high over the wine, and laughed to the waking sword.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Still were its boughs but for them, when lo, on an even of May<br /></span> +<span>Comes a man from Siggeir the King with a word for his mouth to say:<br /></span> +<span>"All hail to thee King Volsung, from the King of the Goths I come:<br /></span> +<span>He hath heard of thy sword victorious and thine abundant home;<br /></span> +<span>He hath heard of thy sons in the battle, the fillers of Odin's Hall;<br /></span> +<span>And a word hath the west-wind blown him, (full fruitful be its fall!)<br /></span> +<span>A word of thy daughter Signy the crown of womanhood:<br /></span> +<span>Now he deems thy friendship goodly, and thine help in the battle good,<br /></span> +<span>And for these will he give his friendship and his battle-aid again:<br /></span> +<span>But if thou wouldst grant his asking, and make his heart full fain,<br /></span> +<span>Then shalt thou give him a matter, saith he, without a price,<br /></span> +<span>—Signy the fairer than fair, Signy the wiser than wise."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Now the message gladdened Volsung and his sons, but no word spake +Signy, till the king asked her what her mind might be. Then said +Signy, "I will wed the Goth king, and yet shall I rue my lot in his +hall." And Volsung urged her with kind words to do nought against her +will, but her mind was fixed, and she said she wrought but what the +gods had fore-ordained. So the earl of Siggeir went his <a name='Page_19'></a>way with +gifts and fair words, bidding the Goth king come ere a month was over +to wed the white-handed Signy and bear her home.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>So on Mid-Summer Even ere the undark night began<br /></span> +<span>Siggeir the King of the Goth-folk went up from the bath of the swan<br /></span> +<span>Unto the Volsung dwelling with many an Earl about;<br /></span> +<span>There through the glimmering thicket the linkèd mail rang out,<br /></span> +<span>And sang as mid the woodways sings the summer-hidden ford:<br /></span> +<span>There were gold-rings God-fashioned, and many a Dwarf-wrought sword,<br /></span> +<span>And many a Queen-wrought kirtle and many a written spear;<br /></span> +<span>So came they to the acres, and drew the threshold near,<br /></span> +<span>And amidst of the garden blossoms, on the grassy, fruit-grown land,<br /></span> +<span>Was Volsung the King of the Wood-world with his sons on either hand;<br /></span> +<span>Therewith down lighted Siggeir the lord of a mighty folk,<br /></span> +<span>Yet showed he by King Volsung as the bramble by the oak,<br /></span> +<span>Nor reached his helm to the shoulder of the least of Volsung's sons.<br /></span> +<span>And so into the hall they wended, the Kings and their mighty ones;<br /></span> +<span>And they dight the feast full glorious, and drank through the death of the day,<br /></span> +<span>Till the shadowless moon rose upward, till it wended white away;<br /></span> +<span>Then they went to the gold-hung beds, and at last for an hour or twain<br /></span> +<span>Were all things still and silent, save a flaw of the summer rain.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But on the morrow noontide when the sun was high and bare,<br /></span> +<span>More glorious was the banquet, and now was Signy there,<br /></span> +<span>And she sat beside King Siggeir, a glorious bride forsooth;<br /></span> +<span>Ruddy and white was she wrought as the fair-stained sea-beast's tooth,<br /></span> +<span>But she neither laughed nor spake, and her eyes were hard and cold,<br /></span> +<span>And with wandering side-long looks her lord would she behold.<br /></span> +<span>That saw Sigmund her brother, the eldest Volsung son,<br /></span> +<span>And oft he looked upon her, and their eyes met now and anon,<br /></span> +<span>And ruth arose in his heart, and hate of Siggeir the Goth,<br /></span> +<span>And there had he broken the wedding, but for plighted promise and troth.<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_20'></a>But those twain were beheld of Siggeir, and he deemed of the Volsung kin,<br /></span> +<span>That amid their might and their malice small honour should he win;<br /></span> +<span>Yet thereof made he no semblance, but abided times to be,<br /></span> +<span>And laughed out with the loudest, amid the hope and the glee.<br /></span> +<span>And nought of all saw Volsung, as he dreamed of the coming glory,<br /></span> +<span>And how the Kings of his kindred should fashion the round world's story.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So round about the Branstock they feast in the gleam of the gold;<br /></span> +<span>And though the deeds of man-folk were not yet waxen old,<br /></span> +<span>Yet had they tales for songcraft, and the blossomed garth of rhyme;<br /></span> +<span>Tales of the framing of all things and the entering in of time<br /></span> +<span>From the halls of the outer heaven; so near they knew the door.<br /></span> +<span>Wherefore uprose a sea-king, and his hands that loved the oar<br /></span> +<span>Now dealt with the rippling harp-gold, and he sang of the shaping of earth,<br /></span> +<span>And how the stars were lighted, and where the winds had birth,<br /></span> +<span>And the gleam of the first of summers on the yet untrodden grass.<br /></span> +<span>But e'en as men's hearts were hearkening some heard the thunder pass<br /></span> +<span>O'er the cloudless noontide heaven; and some men turned about<br /></span> +<span>And deemed that in the doorway they heard a man laugh out.<br /></span> +<span>Then into the Volsung dwelling a mighty man there strode,<br /></span> +<span>One-eyed and seeming ancient, yet bright his visage glowed:<br /></span> +<span>Cloud-blue was the hood upon him, and his kirtle gleaming-grey<br /></span> +<span>As the latter morning sundog when the storm is on the way:<br /></span> +<span>A bill he bore on his shoulder, whose mighty ashen beam<br /></span> +<span>Burnt bright with the flame of the sea and the blended silver's gleam.<br /></span> +<span>And such was the guise of his raiment as the Volsung elders had told<br /></span> +<span>Was borne by their fathers' fathers, and the first that warred in the wold.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So strode he to the Branstock nor greeted any lord,<br /></span> +<span>But forth from his cloudy raiment he drew a gleaming sword,<br /></span> +<span>And smote it deep in the tree-hole, and the wild hawks overhead<br /></span> +<span>Laughed 'neath the naked heaven as at last he spake and said:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"<a name='Page_21'></a>Earls of the Goths, and Volsungs, abiders on the earth,<br /></span> +<span>Lo there amid the Branstock a blade of plenteous worth!<br /></span> +<span>The folk of the war-wand's forgers wrought never better steel<br /></span> +<span>Since first the burg of heaven uprose for man-folk's weal.<br /></span> +<span>Now let the man among you whose heart and hand may shift<br /></span> +<span>To pluck it from the oakwood e'en take it for my gift.<br /></span> +<span>Then ne'er, but his own heart falter, its point and edge shall fail<br /></span> +<span>Until the night's beginning and the ending of the tale.<br /></span> +<span>Be merry Earls of the Goth-folk, O Volsung Sons be wise<br /></span> +<span>And reap the battle-acre that ripening for you lies:<br /></span> +<span>For they told me in the wild wood, I heard on the mountain side,<br /></span> +<span>That the shining house of heaven is wrought exceeding wide,<br /></span> +<span>And that there the Early-comers shall have abundant rest<br /></span> +<span>While Earth grows scant of great ones, and fadeth from its best,<br /></span> +<span>And fadeth from its midward and groweth poor and vile:—<br /></span> +<span>All hail to thee King Volsung! farewell for a little while!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So sweet his speaking sounded, so wise his words did seem,<br /></span> +<span>That moveless all men sat there, as in a happy dream<br /></span> +<span>We stir not lest we waken; but there his speech had end,<br /></span> +<span>And slowly down the hall-floor, and outward did he wend;<br /></span> +<span>And none would cast him a question or follow on his ways,<br /></span> +<span>For they knew that the gift was Odin's, a sword for the world to praise.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But now spake Volsung the King: "Why sit ye silent and still?<br /></span> +<span>Is the Battle-Father's visage a token of terror and ill?<br /></span> +<span>Arise O Volsung Children, Earls of the Goths arise,<br /></span> +<span>And set your hands to the hilts as mighty men and wise!<br /></span> +<span>Yet deem it not too easy; for belike a fateful blade<br /></span> +<span>Lies there in the heart of the Branstock for a fated warrior made."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now therewith spake King Siggeir: "King Volsung give me a grace<br /></span> +<span>To try it the first of all men, lest another win my place<br /></span> +<span>And mere chance-hap steal my glory and the gain that I might win."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span><a name='Page_22'></a>Then somewhat laughed King Volsung, and he said: "O Guest, begin;<br /></span> +<span>Though herein is the first as the last, for the Gods have long to live,<br /></span> +<span>Nor hath Odin yet forgotten unto whom the gift he would give."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then forth to the tree went Siggeir, the Goth-folk's mighty lord,<br /></span> +<span>And laid his hand on the gemstones, and strained at the glorious sword<br /></span> +<span>Till his heart grew black with anger; and never a word he said<br /></span> +<span>As he wended back to the high-seat: but Signy waxed blood-red<br /></span> +<span>When he sat him adown beside her; and her heart was nigh to break<br /></span> +<span>For the shame and the fateful boding: and therewith King Volsung spake:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Thus comes back empty-handed the mightiest King of Earth,<br /></span> +<span>And how shall the feeble venture? yet each man knows his worth;<br /></span> +<span>And today may a great beginning from a little seed upspring<br /></span> +<span>To o'erpass many a great one that hath the name of King:<br /></span> +<span>So stand forth free and unfree; stand forth both most and least:<br /></span> +<span>But first ye Earls of the Goth-folk, ye lovely lords we feast."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Upstood the Earls of Siggeir, and each man drew anigh<br /></span> +<span>And deemed his time was coming for a glorious gain and high;<br /></span> +<span>But for all their mighty shaping and their deeds in the battle-wood,<br /></span> +<span>No looser in the Branstock that gift of Odin stood.<br /></span> +<span>Then uprose Volsung's homemen, and the fell-abiding folk;<br /></span> +<span>And the yellow-headed shepherds came gathering round the Oak,<br /></span> +<span>And the searchers of the thicket and the dealers with the oar:<br /></span> +<span>And the least and the worst of them all was a mighty man of war.<br /></span> +<span>But for all their mighty shaping, and the struggle and the strain<br /></span> +<span>Of their hands, the deft in labour, they tugged thereat in vain;<br /></span> +<span>And still as the shouting and jeers, and the names of men and the laughter<br /></span> +<span>Beat backward from gable to gable, and rattled o'er roof-tree and rafter,<br /></span> +<span>Moody and still sat Siggeir; for he said: "They have trained me here<br /></span> +<span>As a mock for their woodland bondsmen; and yet shall they buy it dear."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span><a name='Page_23'></a>Now the tumult sank a little, and men cried on Volsung the King<br /></span> +<span>And his sons, the hedge of battle, to try the fateful thing.<br /></span> +<span>So Volsung laughed, and answered: "I will set me to the toil,<br /></span> +<span>Lest these my guests of the Goth-folk should deem I fear the foil.<br /></span> +<span>Yet nought am I ill-sworded, and the oldest friend is best;<br /></span> +<span>And this, my hand's first fellow, will I bear to the grave-mound's rest,<br /></span> +<span>Nor wield meanwhile another: Yea, this shall I have in hand<br /></span> +<span>When mid the host of Odin in the Day of Doom I stand."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Therewith from his belt of battle he raised the golden sheath,<br /></span> +<span>And showed the peace-strings glittering about the hidden death:<br /></span> +<span>Then he laid his hand on the Branstock, and cried: "O tree beloved,<br /></span> +<span>I thank thee of thy good-heart that so little thou art moved:<br /></span> +<span>Abide thou thus, green bower, when I am dead and gone<br /></span> +<span>And the best of all my kindred a better day hath won!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then as a young man laughed he, and on the hilts of gold<br /></span> +<span>His hand, the battle-breaker, took fast and certain hold,<br /></span> +<span>And long he drew and strained him, but mended not the tale,<br /></span> +<span>Yet none the more thereover his mirth of heart did fail;<br /></span> +<span>But he wended to the high-seat and thence began to cry:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Sons I have gotten and cherished, now stand ye forth to try;<br /></span> +<span>Lest Odin tell in God-home how from the way he strayed,<br /></span> +<span>And how to the man he would not he gave away his blade."<br /></span> +<span>So therewithal rose Rerir, and wasted might and main;<br /></span> +<span>Then Gunthiof, and then Hunthiof, they wearied them in vain;<br /></span> +<span>Nought was the might of Agnar; nought Helgi could avail;<br /></span> +<span>Sigi the tall and Solar no further brought the tale,<br /></span> +<span>Nor Geirmund the priest of the temple, nor Gylfi of the wood.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>At last by the side of the Branstock Sigmund the Volsung stood,<br /></span> +<span>And with right hand wise in battle the precious sword-hilt caught,<br /></span> +<span>Yet in a careless fashion, as he deemed it all for nought:<br /></span> +<span>When lo, from floor to rafter went up a shattering shout,<br /></span> +<span>For aloft in the hand of Sigmund the naked blade shone out<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_24'></a>As high o'er his head he shook it: for the sword had come away<br /></span> +<span>From the grip of the heart of the Branstock, as though all loose it lay.<br /></span> +<span>A little while he stood there mid the glory of the hall,<br /></span> +<span>Like the best of the trees of the garden, when the April sunbeams fall<br /></span> +<span>On its blossomed boughs in the morning, and tell of the days to be;<br /></span> +<span>Then back unto the high-seat he wended soberly;<br /></span> +<span>For this was the thought within him; Belike the day shall come<br /></span> +<span>When I shall bide here lonely amid the Volsung home,<br /></span> +<span>Its glory and sole avenger, its after-summer seed.<br /></span> +<span>Yea, I am the hired of Odin, his workday will to speed,<br /></span> +<span>And the harvest-tide shall be heavy.—What then, were it come and past<br /></span> +<span>And I laid by the last of the sheaves with my wages earned at the last?<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>He lifted his eyes as he thought it, for now was he come to his place,<br /></span> +<span>And there he stood by his father and met Siggeir face to face,<br /></span> +<span>And he saw him blithe and smiling, and heard him how he spake:<br /></span> +<span>"O best of the sons of Volsung, I am merry for thy sake<br /></span> +<span>And the glory that thou hast gained us; but whereas thine hand and heart<br /></span> +<span>Are e'en now the lords of the battle, how lack'st thou for thy part<br /></span> +<span>A matter to better the best? Wilt thou overgild fine gold<br /></span> +<span>Or dye the red rose redder? So I prithee let me hold<br /></span> +<span>This sword that comes to thine hand on the day I wed thy kin.<br /></span> +<span>For at home have I a store-house; there is mountain-gold therein<br /></span> +<span>The weight of a war-king's harness; there is silver plenteous store;<br /></span> +<span>There is iron, and huge-wrought amber, that the southern men love sore,<br /></span> +<span>When they sell me the woven wonder, the purple born of the sea;<br /></span> +<span>And it hangeth up in that bower, and all this is a gift for thee:<br /></span> +<span>But the sword that came to my wedding, methinketh it meet and right,<br /></span> +<span>That it lie on my knees in the council and stead me in the fight."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But Sigmund laughed and answered, and he spake a scornful word:<br /></span> +<span>"And if I take twice that treasure, will it buy me Odin's sword,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_25'></a>And the gift that the Gods have given? will it buy me again to stand<br /></span> +<span>Betwixt two mightiest world-kings with a longed-for thing in mine hand<br /></span> +<span>That all their might hath missed of? when the purple-selling men<br /></span> +<span>Come buying thine iron and amber, dost thou sell thine honour then?<br /></span> +<span>Do they wrap it in bast of the linden, or run it in moulds of earth?<br /></span> +<span>And shalt thou account mine honour as a matter of lesser worth?<br /></span> +<span>Came the sword to thy wedding, Goth-king, to thine hand it never came,<br /></span> +<span>And thence is thine envy whetted to deal me this word of shame."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Black then was the heart of Siggeir, but his face grew pale and red,<br /></span> +<span>Till he drew a smile thereover, and spake the word and said:<br /></span> +<span>"Nay, pardon me, Signy's kinsman! when the heart desires o'ermuch<br /></span> +<span>It teacheth the tongue ill speaking, and my word belike was such.<br /></span> +<span>But the honour of thee and thy kindred, I hold it even as mine,<br /></span> +<span>And I love you as my heart-blood, and take ye this for a sign.<br /></span> +<span>I bid thee now King Volsung, and these thy glorious sons,<br /></span> +<span>And thine earls and thy dukes of battle and all thy mighty ones,<br /></span> +<span>To come to the house of the Goth-kings as honoured guests and dear<br /></span> +<span>And abide the winter over; that the dusky days and drear<br /></span> +<span>May be glorious with thy presence, that all folk may praise my life,<br /></span> +<span>And the friends that my fame hath gotten; and that this my new-wed wife<br /></span> +<span>Thine eyes may make the merrier till she bear my eldest born."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then speedily answered Volsung: "No king of the earth might scorn<br /></span> +<span>Such noble bidding, Siggeir; and surely will I come<br /></span> +<span>To look upon thy glory and the Goths' abundant home.<br /></span> +<span>But let two months wear over, for I have many a thing<br /></span> +<span>To shape and shear in the Woodland, as befits a people's king:<br /></span> +<span>And thou meanwhile here abiding of all my goods shalt be free,<br /></span> +<span>And then shall we twain together roof over the glass-green sea<br /></span> +<span>With the sides of our golden dragons; and our war-hosts' blended shields<br /></span> +<span>Shall fright the sea-abiders and the folk of the fishy fields."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span><a name='Page_26'></a>Answered the smooth-speeched Siggeir: "I thank thee well for this,<br /></span> +<span>And thy bidding is most kingly; yet take it not amiss<br /></span> +<span>That I wend my ways in the morning; for we Goth-folk know indeed<br /></span> +<span>That the sea is a foe full deadly, and a friend that fails at need."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>And for all the words of Volsung e'en so must the matter be,<br /></span> +<span>And Siggeir the Goth and Signy on the morn shall sail the sea.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then the feast sped on the fairer, far into the night, but amidst the +mirth Sigmund and Signy were sad at heart. And before the sun was +risen next day Signy came to her father in secret and begged him to +stay in his own country rather than trust the guileful heart and +murder-loving hand of Siggeir. But Volsung answered that he must go +to be Siggeir's guest, for he could not break his pledged word +through fear of peril. So on the morrow the smooth-speeched Siggeir +departed with Signy, and when two months were passed Volsung made +ready to visit them.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>How the Volsungs fared to the Land of the Goths, and of the +fall of King Volsung.</i></p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +<span>So now, when all things were ready, in the first of the autumn tide<br /></span> +<span>Adown unto the swan-bath the Volsung Children ride;<br /></span> +<span>And lightly go a shipboard, a goodly company,<br /></span> +<span>Though the tale thereof be scanty and their ships no more than three:<br /></span> +<span>But kings' sons dealt with the sail-sheets and earls and dukes of war<br /></span> +<span>Were the halers of the hawsers and the tuggers at the oar.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But when the sun on the morrow shone over earth and sea<br /></span> +<span>Ashore went the Volsung Children a goodly company,<br /></span> +<span>And toward King Siggeir's dwelling o'er heath and holt they went.<br /></span> +<span>But when they came to the topmost of a certain grassy bent,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_27'></a>Lo there lay the land before them as thick with shield and spear<br /></span> +<span>As the rich man's wealthiest acre with the harvest of the year.<br /></span> +<span>There bade King Volsung tarry and dight the wedge-array;<br /></span> +<span>"For duly," he said, "doeth Siggeir to meet his guests by the way."<br /></span> +<span>So shield by shield they serried, nor ever hath been told<br /></span> +<span>Of any host of battle more glorious with the gold;<br /></span> +<span>And there stood the high King Volsung in the very front of war;<br /></span> +<span>And lovelier was his visage than ever heretofore,<br /></span> +<span>As he rent apart the peace-strings that his brand of battle bound<br /></span> +<span>And the bright blade gleamed to the heavens, and he cast the sheath to the ground.<br /></span> +<span>Then up the steep came the Goth-folk, and the spear-wood drew anigh,<br /></span> +<span>And earth's face shook beneath them, yet cried they never a cry;<br /></span> +<span>And the Volsungs stood all silent, although forsooth at whiles<br /></span> +<span>O'er the faces grown earth-weary would play the flickering smiles,<br /></span> +<span>And swords would clink and rattle: not long had they to bide,<br /></span> +<span>For soon that flood of murder flowed round the hillock-side;<br /></span> +<span>Then at last the edges mingled, and if men forbore the shout,<br /></span> +<span>Yet the din of steel and iron in the grey clouds rang about;<br /></span> +<span>But how to tell of King Volsung, and the valour of his folk!<br /></span> +<span>Three times the wood of battle before their edges broke;<br /></span> +<span>And the shield-wall, sorely dwindled and reft of the ruddy gold,<br /></span> +<span>Against the drift of the war-blast for the fourth time yet did hold.<br /></span> +<span>But men's shields were waxen heavy with the weight of shafts they bore,<br /></span> +<span>And the fifth time many a champion cast earthward Odin's door<br /></span> +<span>And gripped the sword two-handed; and in sheaves the spears came on.<br /></span> +<span>And at last the host of the Goth-folk within the shield-wall won,<br /></span> +<span>And wild was the work within it, and oft and o'er again<br /></span> +<span>Forth brake the sons of Volsung, and drave the foe in vain;<br /></span> +<span>For the driven throng still thickened, till it might not give aback.<br /></span> +<span>But fast abode King Volsung amid the shifting wrack<br /></span> +<span>In the place where once was the forefront: for he said: "My feet are old,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_28'></a>And if I wend on further there is nought more to behold<br /></span> +<span>Than this that I see about me."—Whiles drew his foes away<br /></span> +<span>And stared across the corpses that before his sword-edge lay.<br /></span> +<span>But nought he followed after: then needs must they in front<br /></span> +<span>Thrust on by the thickening spear-throng come up to bear the brunt,<br /></span> +<span>Till all his limbs were weary and his body rent and torn:<br /></span> +<span>Then he cried: "Lo now, Allfather, is not the swathe well shorn?<br /></span> +<span>Wouldst thou have me toil for ever, nor win the wages due?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>And mid the hedge of foemen his blunted sword he threw,<br /></span> +<span>And, laid like the oars of a longship the level war-shafts pressed<br /></span> +<span>On 'gainst the unshielded elder, and clashed amidst his breast;<br /></span> +<span>And dead he fell, thrust backward, and rang on the dead men's gear:<br /></span> +<span>But still for a certain season durst no man draw anear,<br /></span> +<span>For 'twas e'en as a great God's slaying, and they feared the wrath of the sky;<br /></span> +<span>And they deemed their hearts might harden if awhile they should let him lie.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of the ending of all Volsung's Sons save Sigmund only, and of how +he abideth in the wild wood.</i></p> + +<p>They joined battle again, but the fight grew feeble after Volsung +fell, and his earls were struck down one by one. Last of all, his sons +were borne to earth and carried captive to the hall, where Siggeir +awaited them, for he himself had feared to face the Volsung swords.</p> + +<p>Then he would have slain them at once without torture, but Signy +besought him that they might breathe the earthly air a day or two +before their death, and he listened to her, for he saw how he might +thus give them greater pain. He bade his men lead them to a glade in +the forest and fetter them to the mightiest tree that grew there. So +the ten Volsungs were fettered with iron to a great oak, and on the +morrow Siggeir's woodmen told him sweet tidings, <a name='Page_29'></a>for beasts of the +wood had devoured two and left their bones in the fetters. So it +befell every night till the woodmen brought word that nothing +remained of the king's foemen save their bones in the fetters that +had bound them.</p> + +<p>Now a watch had been set on Signy lest she should send help to her +brethren, but henceforth no man hindered her from going out to the +wood. So that night she came to the glade in the forest, and saw in +the midst of it a mighty man who was toiling to dig a grave in the +greensward.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>And behold, it was Sigmund the Volsung: but she cried and had no fear:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"If thou art living, Sigmund, what day's work dost thou here<br /></span> +<span>In the midnight and the forest? but if thou art nought but a ghost<br /></span> +<span>Then where are those Volsung brethren, of whom thou wert best and most?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then he turned about unto her, and his raiment was fouled and torn,<br /></span> +<span>And his eyen were great and hollow, as a famished man forlorn;<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But he cried: "Hail, Sister Signy! I looked for thee before,<br /></span> +<span>Though what should a woman compass, she one alone and no more,<br /></span> +<span>When all we shielded Volsungs did nought in Siggeir's land?<br /></span> +<span>O yea, I am living indeed, and this labour of mine hand<br /></span> +<span>Is to bury the bones of the Volsungs; and lo, it is well-nigh done.<br /></span> +<span>So draw near, Volsung's daughter, and pile we many a stone<br /></span> +<span>Where lie the grey wolf's gleanings of what was once so good."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So she set her hand to the labour, and they toiled, they twain in the wood,<br /></span> +<span>And when the work was over, dead night was beginning to fall:<br /></span> +<span>Then spake the white-hand Signy: "Now shall thou tell the tale<br /></span> +<span>Of the death of the Volsung brethren ere the wood thy wrath shall hide,<br /></span> +<span>Ere I wend me back sick-hearted in the dwelling of kings to abide."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><a name='Page_30'></a>Then said Sigmund:</p> + +<p>"We lay fettered to the tree and at midnight there came from the +thicket two mighty wood-wolves, and falling on my brethren Gylfi and +Geirmund, they devoured them in their bonds, and turned again to the +forest. Night after night, my sister, this befell, till I was left +alone with our brother Sigi to await the wood-beasts. Then came +midnight, and one of the wolves fell upon Sigi and the other turned +on me. But I met it with snarling like its own, and my teeth gripped +its throat, and my hands strove with the fetters till they burst. So +I slew the beast with my irons, but when I looked, Sigi lay dead, and +the other wolf had fled again to the thicket. Then I lay hid till +Siggeir's woodmen had looked on the place and departed with their +tidings, and as I beheld them I knew that pity was killed in my +heart, and that henceforward I should live but to avenge me on him +who hath so set the gods at nought." Then Signy spake noble words of +comfort, saying: "I wot well that Siggeir shall pay the due price of +his deeds, though the vengeance may tarry long, and I wot also that +thy life shall yet know gladness. Bear a stout heart, therefore, to +meet the waiting time, and make thee a lair in the woods whence thou +mayest fall on men of the Goth-folk, and win what thy life needeth. +As for me, I will see thy face once again ere many days are past to +wot where thou dwellest and then must we meet no more."</p> + +<p>And so saying, she kissed him and departed, but Sigmund turned in the +dawn-light, and sought a wood-lair as she had bidden him.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of the fostering of Sinfiotli, Signy's son, and of the slaying of +Siggeir the Goth-king.</i></p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>So wrought is the will of King Siggeir, and he weareth Odin's sword<br /></span> +<span>And it lies on his knees in the council and hath no other lord:<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_31'></a>And he sendeth earls o'er the sea-flood to take King Volsung's land,<br /></span> +<span>And those scattered and shepherdless sheep must come beneath his hand.<br /></span> +<span>And he holdeth the milk-white Signy as his handmaid and his wife,<br /></span> +<span>And nought but his will she doeth, nor raiseth a word of strife;<br /></span> +<span>So his heart is praising his wisdom, and he deems him of most avail<br /></span> +<span>Of all the lords of the cunning that teacheth how to prevail.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Now Sigmund dwelt long in the wild-wood, abiding in a strong cave deep +hidden in a thicket by the river-side.</p> + +<p>And now and again he fell upon the folk of Siggeir as they journeyed, +and slew them, and thus he had war-gear and gold as much as he would. +Also he became a master of masters in the smithying craft, and the +folk who beheld the gleam of his forge by night, deemed that a king +of the Giants was awakened from death to dwell there, and they durst +not wander near the cavern.</p> + +<p>So passed the years till on a springtide morning Signy sent forth to +Sigmund a damsel leading her eldest son, a child of ten summers, and +bearing a word of her mouth to bid him foster the child for his +helper, if he should prove worthy and bold-hearted. And Sigmund +heeded her words and fostered the child for the space of three months +even though he could give no love to a son of Siggeir.</p> + +<p>At last he was minded to try the boy's courage, to which end he set a +deadly ash-grey adder in the meal-sack, and bade the child bake bread. +But he feared when he found something that moved in the meal and had +not courage to do the task. Then would Sigmund foster him no longer, +but thrust him out from the woods to return to his father's hall.</p> + +<p>So ten years won over again, and Signy sent another son to the +wild-wood, and the lad was called Sinfiotli. Sigmund thrust him into +many dangers, and burdened him with heavy loads, and he bore all +passing well.</p> + +<p><a name='Page_32'></a>Now after a year Sigmund deemed that the time for his testing was +come, and once again he set an adder in the meal-sack and bade the +lad bake bread. And the boy feared not the worm, but kneaded it with +the dough and baked all together. So Sigmund cherished him as his own +son, and he grew strong and valiant and loved Sigmund as his father.</p> + +<p>Now Sigmund began to ponder how he might at last take vengeance on +Siggeir, and gladly did Sinfiotli hear him, for all his love was +given to Sigmund, so that he no longer deemed himself the Goth-king's +son.</p> + +<p>At last when the long mirk nights of winter were come, Sigmund and his +foster-son went their way to the home of Siggeir and sought to lurk +therein. Then Sinfiotli led the way to a storehouse where lay great +wine-casks, and whence they could see the lighted feast-hall, and +hear the clamour of Siggeir's folk. There they had to abide the time +when the feasters should be hushed in sleep. Long seemed the hours to +Sinfiotli, but Sigmund was calm and clear-eyed.</p> + +<p>Then it befell that two of Queen Signy's youngest-born children threw +a golden toy hither and thither in the feast-hall, and at last it +rolled away among the wine-casks till it lay at Sigmund's feet. So the +children followed it, and coming face to face with those lurkers, they +fled back to the feast-hall. And Sigmund and his foster-son saw all +hope was ended, for they heard the rising tumult as men ran to their +weapons; so they made ready to go forth and die in the hall. Then on +came the battle around the twain, and but short is the tale to tell, +for Sinfiotli slipped on the blood-stained floor and the shield wall +encompassed Sigmund, and so they were both hoppled strait and fast.</p> + +<p>The Goth-folk washed their hall of blood and got them to slumber, but +Siggeir lay long pondering what dire death he might bring on his foes.</p> + +<p><a name='Page_33'></a>Now at the first grey dawning Siggeir's folk dight a pit and it had +two chambers with a sundering stone in the midst. Then they brought +the Volsung kindred and set them therein, one in each chamber, that +they might abide death alone, and yet in hearing of one another's woe. +And over the top the thralls laid roofing turfs, but so lingering were +their hands that eve drew on ere the task was finished. Then stole +Signy forth in the dusk, and spake the thralls fair, and gave them +gold that they might hold their peace of what she did. And when they +gainsaid her nought she drew out something wrapped in wheat straw, and +cast it down swiftly into the pit where Sinfiotli lay, and departed.</p> + +<p>Sinfiotli at first deemed it food, but after a space Sigmund heard him +laugh aloud for joy, for within the wrappings lay the sword of the +Branstock. And Sinfiotli cried out the joyous tidings to his +foster-father, and tarried not to set the point to the stone that +sundered them, and lo, the blade pierced through, and Sigmund grasped +the point. Then sawed Sigmund and Sinfiotli together till they cleft +the stone, and they hewed full hard at the roofing, till they cast the +turfs aside, and their hearts were gladdened with the sight of the +starry heaven.</p> + +<p>Forth they leapt, and no words were needed of whither they should +wend, but they fell on King Siggeir's night-watch and slew them +sleeping, and made haste to find the store of winter faggots, +wherewith they built a mighty bale about the hall of Siggeir. They +set a torch to the bale, and Sigmund gat him to one hall door and +Sinfiotli to the other, and now the Goth-folk awoke to their last +of days.</p> + +<p>Then cried Siggeir to his thralls and offered them joyous life-days +and plenteous wealth if they would give him life, deeming that they +had fired the hall in hatred. But there came a great voice crying +from the door, "Nay, no toilers are we; wealth is ours when we list, +but now our hearts are set to avenge our kin; now <a name='Page_34'></a>hath the murder +seed sprung and borne its fruit; now the death-doomed and buried work +this deed; now doom draweth nigh thee at the hand of Sigmund the +Volsung, and Sinfiotli, Signy's son."</p> + +<p>Then the voice cried again, "Come ye forth, women of the Goths, and +thou, O Signy, my sister, come forth to seek the boughs of the +Branstock." So fled the white-faced women from the fire, and passed +scatheless by Sinfiotli's blade, but Signy came not at all. Then the +earls of Siggeir strove to burst from the hall, but ever the two +glaives at the doorways drove them back to the fire.</p> + +<p>And, lo, now came Signy in queenly raiment, and stood before Sinfiotli +and said, "O mightiest son, this is the hour of our parting, and fain +am I of slumber and the end of my toil now I have seen this day. And +the blither do I leave thee because thy days on earth shall be but +few; I charge thee make thy life glorious, and leave a goodly tale."</p> + +<p>She kissed him and turned to Sigmund, and her face in the dawn-light +seemed to him fair and ruddy as in the days when they twain dwelt by +the Branstock. And she said, "My youth was happy, yet this hour is +the crown of my life-days which draw nigh their ending. And now I +charge thee, Sigmund, when thou sittest once more a mighty king +beneath the boughs of the Branstock, that thou remember how I loved +the Volsung name, and spared not to spend all that was mine for its +blossoming." Then she kissed him and turned again, and the dawn +brightened at her back, and the fire shone red before her, and so for +the last time was Signy beheld by the eyes of men. Thereafter King +Siggeir's roof-tree bowed earthward, and the mighty walls crashed +down, and so that dark murder-hall lay wasted, and its glory was +swept away.</p> +<br /> + +<p><a name='Page_35'></a><i>How Sigmund cometh to the Land of the Volsungs again, and of the +death of Sinfiotli his Son.</i></p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now Sigmund the king bestirs him, and Sinfiotli, Sigmund's son,<br /></span> +<span>And they gather a host together, and many a mighty one;<br /></span> +<span>Then they set the ships in the sea-flood and sail from the stranger's shore,<br /></span> +<span>And the beaks of the golden dragons see the Volsungs' land once more;<br /></span> +<span>And men's hearts are fulfilled of joyance; and they cry, The sun shines now<br /></span> +<span>With never a curse to hide it, and they shall reap that sow!<br /></span> +<span>Then for many a day sits Sigmund 'neath the boughs of the Branstock green,<br /></span> +<span>With his earls and lords about him as the Volsung wont hath been.<br /></span> +<span>And oft he thinketh on Signy and oft he nameth her name,<br /></span> +<span>And tells how she spent her joyance and her life-days and her fame<br /></span> +<span>That the Volsung kin might blossom and bear the fruit of worth<br /></span> +<span>For the hope of unborn people and the harvest of the earth.<br /></span> +<span>And again he thinks of the word that he spake that other day,<br /></span> +<span>How he should abide there lonely when his kin was passed away,<br /></span> +<span>Their glory and sole avenger, their after-summer seed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But far and wide went Sinfiotli through the earth, mowing the war +swathe and wasting the land, and passing but little time in song and +laughter in his father's hall. So went his days in warfare and valour, +and yet his end was not glorious, for he drank of the poisoned cup +given him by the sister of a warrior he had rightly slain.</p> + +<p>None might come nigh Sigmund in his anguish as he lifted the head of +his fallen foster-child, and then swiftly bare him from the hall. On +he went through dark thicket and over wind-swept heath, past the +foot-hills and the homes of the deer, till he came to a great rushing +water, whereon was a white-sailed boat, manned by a mighty <a name='Page_36'></a>man, +"one-eyed and seeming ancient." This mighty one told Sigmund he had +been bidden to waft a great king over the water, and bade him lay his +burden on board, but when Sigmund would have followed he could see +neither ship nor man.</p> + +<p>But Sigmund went back to his throne, and behaved himself as a king, +listening to his people's plaints, and dealing out justice.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of the last battle of King Sigmund, and the death of him.</i></p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now there was a king of the Islands, whom the tale doth Eylimi call,<br /></span> +<span>And saith he was wise and valiant, though his kingdom were but small:<br /></span> +<span>He had one only daughter that Hiordis had to name,<br /></span> +<span>A woman wise and shapely beyond the praise of fame.<br /></span> +<span>And now saith the son of King Volsung that his time is short enow<br /></span> +<span>To labour the Volsung garden, and the hand must be set to the plough:<br /></span> +<span>So he sendeth an earl of the people to King Eylimi's high-built hall,<br /></span> +<span>Bearing the gifts and the tokens, and this word in his mouth withal:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"King Sigmund the son of Volsung hath sent me here with a word<br /></span> +<span>That plenteous good of thy daughter among all folk he hath heard,<br /></span> +<span>And he wooeth that wisest of women that she may sit on his throne.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Now hereof would he have an answer within a half-month's space,<br /></span> +<span>And these gifts meanwhile he giveth for the increase of thy grace."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So King Eylimi hearkened the message, and hath no word to say,<br /></span> +<span>For an earl of King Lyngi the mighty is come that very day,<br /></span> +<span>He too for the wooing of Hiordis: and Lyngi's realm is at hand,<br /></span> +<span>But afar King Sigmund abideth o'er many a sea and land:<br /></span> +<span>And the man is young and eager, and grim and guileful of mood.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span><a name='Page_37'></a>At last he sayeth: "Abide here such space as thou deemest good,<br /></span> +<span>But tomorn shalt thou have thine answer that thine heart may the lighter be,<br /></span> +<span>For the hearkening of harp and songcraft, and the dealing with game and glee."<br /></span> +<span>Then he went to Queen Hiordis' bower, where she worked in the silk and the gold<br /></span> +<span>The deeds of the world that should be, and the deeds that were of old.<br /></span> +<span>And he stood before her and said:<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Often have I told thee that thou shouldst wed only the man thou +wouldst. Now it hath come to pass that two kings desire thee."</p> + +<p>And she swiftly rose to her feet as she said, "And which be they?"</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>He spake: "The first is Lyngi, a valiant man and a fair,<br /></span> +<span>A neighbour ill for thy father, if a foe's name he must bear:<br /></span> +<span>And the next is King Sigmund the Volsung of a land far over sea,<br /></span> +<span>And well thou knowest his kindred, and his might and his valiancy,<br /></span> +<span>And the tales of his heart of a God; and though old he be waxen now,<br /></span> +<span>Yet men deem that the wide world's blossom from Sigmund's loins shall grow."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Said Hiordis: "I wot, my father, that hereof may strife arise;<br /></span> +<span>Yet soon spoken is mine answer; for I, who am called the wise,<br /></span> +<span>Shall I thrust by the praise of the people, and the tale that no ending hath,<br /></span> +<span>And the love and the heart of the godlike, and the heavenward-leading path,<br /></span> +<span>For the rose and the stem of the lily, and the smooth-lipped youngling's kiss,<br /></span> +<span>And the eyes' desire that passeth, and the frail unstable bliss?<br /></span> +<span>Now shalt thou tell King Sigmund, that I deem it the crown of my life<br /></span> +<span>To dwell in the house of his fathers amidst all peace and strife."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span><a name='Page_38'></a>Now the king's heart sore misgave him, but herewith must he be content,<br /></span> +<span>And great gifts to the earl of Lyngi and a word withal he sent,<br /></span> +<span>That the woman's troth was plighted to another people's king.<br /></span> +<span>But King Sigmund's earl on the morrow hath joyful yea-saying,<br /></span> +<span>And ere two moons be perished he shall fetch his bride away.<br /></span> +<span>"And bid him," King Eylimi sayeth, "to come with no small array,<br /></span> +<span>But with sword and shield and war-shaft, lest aught of ill betide."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So forth goes the earl of Sigmund across the sea-flood wide,<br /></span> +<span>And comes to the land of the Volsungs, and meeteth Sigmund the king,<br /></span> +<span>And tells how he sped on his errand, and the joyful yea-saying.<br /></span> +<span>So King Sigmund maketh him ready, and they ride adown to the sea<br /></span> +<span>All glorious of gear and raiment, and a goodly company.<br /></span> +<span>Yet hath Sigmund thought of his father, and the deed he wrought before,<br /></span> +<span>And hath scorn to gather his people and all his hosts of war<br /></span> +<span>To wend to the feast and the wedding: yet are their long-ships ten,<br /></span> +<span>And the shielded folk aboard them are the mightiest men of men.<br /></span> +<span>So Sigmund goeth a shipboard, and they hoist their sails to the wind,<br /></span> +<span>And the beaks of the golden dragons leave the Volsungs' land behind.<br /></span> +<span>Then come they to Eylimi's kingdom, and good welcome have they there,<br /></span> +<span>And when Sigmund looked on Hiordis, he deemed her wise and fair.<br /></span> +<span>But her heart was exceeding fain when she saw the glorious king,<br /></span> +<span>And it told her of times that should be full many a noble thing.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So there is Sigmund wedded at a great and goodly feast,<br /></span> +<span>And day by day on Hiordis the joy of her heart increased;<br /></span> +<span>And her father joyed in Sigmund and his might and majesty,<br /></span> +<span>And dead in the heart of the Isle-king his ancient fear did lie.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span><a name='Page_39'></a>Yet, forsooth, had men looked seaward, they had seen the gathering cloud,<br /></span> +<span>And the little wind arising, that should one day pipe so loud.<br /></span> +<span>For well may ye wot indeed that King Lyngi the Mighty is wroth,<br /></span> +<span>When he getteth the gifts and the answer, and that tale of the woman's troth:<br /></span> +<span>And he saith he will have the gifts and the woman herself withal,<br /></span> +<span>Either for loving or hating, and that both those heads shall fall.<br /></span> +<span>So now when Sigmund and Hiordis are wedded a month or more,<br /></span> +<span>And the Volsung bids men dight them to cross the sea-flood o'er,<br /></span> +<span>Lo, how there cometh the tidings of measureless mighty hosts<br /></span> +<span>Who are gotten ashore from their long-ships on the skirts of King Eylimi's coasts.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Sore boded the heart of the Isle-king of what the end should be.<br /></span> +<span>But Sigmund long beheld him, and he said: "Thou deem'st of me<br /></span> +<span>That my coming hath brought thee evil; but put aside such things;<br /></span> +<span>For long have I lived, and I know it, that the lives of mighty kings<br /></span> +<span>Are not cast away, nor drifted like the down before the wind;<br /></span> +<span>And surely I know, who say it, that never would Hiordis' mind<br /></span> +<span>Have been turned to wed King Lyngi or aught but the Volsung seed.<br /></span> +<span>Come, go we forth to the battle, that shall be the latest deed<br /></span> +<span>Of thee and me meseemeth: yea, whether thou live or die,<br /></span> +<span>No more shall the brand of Odin at peace in his scabbard lie."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>And therewith he brake the peace-strings and drew the blade of bale,<br /></span> +<span>And Death on the point abided, Fear sat on the edges pale.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So men ride adown to the sea-strand, and the kings their hosts array<br /></span> +<span>When the high noon flooded heaven; and the men of the Volsungs lay,<br /></span> +<span>With King Eylimi's shielded champions mid Lyngi's hosts of war,<br /></span> +<span>As the brown pips lie in the apple when ye cut it through the core.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But now when the kings were departed, from the King's house Hiordis went,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_40'></a>And before men joined the battle she came to a woody bent,<br /></span> +<span>Where she lay with one of her maidens the death and the deeds to behold.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>In the noon sun shone King Sigmund as an image all of gold,<br /></span> +<span>And he stood before the foremost and the banner of his fame,<br /></span> +<span>And many a thing he remembered, and he called on each earl by his name<br /></span> +<span>To do well for the house of the Volsungs, and the ages yet unborn.<br /></span> +<span>Then he tossed up the sword of the Branstock, and blew on his father's horn,<br /></span> +<span>Dread of so many a battle, doom-song of so many a man.<br /></span> +<span>Then all the earth seemed moving as the hosts of Lyngi ran<br /></span> +<span>On the Volsung men and the Isle-folk like wolves upon the prey;<br /></span> +<span>But sore was their labour and toil ere the end of their harvesting day.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>On went the Volsung banners, and on went Sigmund before,<br /></span> +<span>And his sword was the flail of the tiller on the wheat of the wheat-thrashing floor,<br /></span> +<span>And his shield was rent from his arm, and his helm was sheared from his head:<br /></span> +<span>But who may draw nigh him to smite for the heap and the rampart of dead?<br /></span> +<span>White went his hair on the wind like the ragged drift of the cloud,<br /></span> +<span>And his dust-driven, blood-beaten harness was the death-storm's angry shroud,<br /></span> +<span>When the summer sun is departing in the first of the night of wrack;<br /></span> +<span>And his sword was the cleaving lightning, that smites and is hurried aback<br /></span> +<span>Ere the hand may rise against it; and his voice was the following thunder.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then cold grew the battle before him, dead-chilled with the fear and the wonder:<br /></span> +<span>For again in his ancient eyes the light of victory gleamed;<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_41'></a>From his mouth grown tuneful and sweet the song of his kindred streamed;<br /></span> +<span>And no more was he worn and weary, and no more his life seemed spent:<br /></span> +<span>And with all the hope of his childhood was his wrath of battle blent;<br /></span> +<span>And he thought: A little further, and the river of strife is passed,<br /></span> +<span>And I shall sit triumphant the king of the world at last.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But lo, through the hedge of the war-shafts a mighty man there came,<br /></span> +<span>One-eyed and seeming ancient, but his visage shone like flame:<br /></span> +<span>Gleaming-grey was his kirtle, and his hood was cloudy blue;<br /></span> +<span>And he bore a mighty twi-bill, as he waded the fight-sheaves through,<br /></span> +<span>And stood face to face with Sigmund, and upheaved the bill to smite.<br /></span> +<span>Once more round the head of the Volsung fierce glittered the Branstock's light,<br /></span> +<span>The sword that came from Odin; and Sigmund's cry once more<br /></span> +<span>Rang out to the very heavens above the din of war.<br /></span> +<span>Then clashed the meeting edges with Sigmund's latest stroke,<br /></span> +<span>And in shivering shards fell earthward that fear of worldly folk.<br /></span> +<span>But changed were the eyes of Sigmund, and the war-wrath left his face;<br /></span> +<span>For that grey-clad mighty helper was gone, and in his place<br /></span> +<span>Drave on the unbroken spear-wood 'gainst the Volsung's empty hands:<br /></span> +<span>And there they smote down Sigmund, the wonder of all lands,<br /></span> +<span>On the foemen, on the death-heap his deeds had piled that day.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Ill hour for Sigmund's fellows! they fall like the seeded hay<br /></span> +<span>Before the brown scythes' sweeping, and there the Isle-king fell<br /></span> +<span>In the fore-front of his battle, wherein he wrought right well,<br /></span> +<span>And soon they were nought but foemen who stand upon their feet<br /></span> +<span>On the isle-strand by the ocean where the grass and the sea-sand meet.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>And now hath the conquering War-king another deed to do,<br /></span> +<span>And he saith: "Who now gainsayeth King Lyngi come to woo,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_42'></a>The lord and the overcomer and the bane of the Volsung kin?"<br /></span> +<span>So he fares to the Isle-king's dwelling a wife of the kings to win;<br /></span> +<span>And the host is gathered together, and they leave the field of the dead;<br /></span> +<span>And round as a targe of the Goth-folk the moon ariseth red.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>And so when the last is departed, and she deems they will come not aback,<br /></span> +<span>Fares Hiordis forth from the thicket to the field of the fateful wrack,<br /></span> +<span>And half-dead was her heart for sorrow as she waded the swathes of the sword.<br /></span> +<span>Not far did she search the death-field ere she found her king and lord<br /></span> +<span>On the heap that his glaive had fashioned: not yet was his spirit past,<br /></span> +<span>Though his hurts were many and grievous, and his life-blood ebbing fast;<br /></span> +<span>And glad were his eyes and open as her wan face over him hung,<br /></span> +<span>And he spake:<br /></span> +<span class='i4'>"Thou art sick with sorrow, and I would thou wert not so young;<br /></span> +<span>Yet as my days passed shall thine pass; and a short while now it seems<br /></span> +<span>Since my hand first gripped the sword-hilt, and my glory was but in dreams."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>She said: "Thou livest, thou livest! the leeches shall heal thee still."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Nay," said he, "my heart hath hearkened to Odin's bidding and will;<br /></span> +<span>For today have mine eyes beheld him: nay, he needed not to speak:<br /></span> +<span>Forsooth I knew of his message and the thing he came to seek.<br /></span> +<span>And now do I live but to tell thee of the days that are yet to come:<br /></span> +<span>And perchance to solace thy sorrow; and then will I get me home<br /></span> +<span>To my kin that are gone before me. Lo, yonder where I stood<br /></span> +<span>The shards of a glaive of battle that was once the best of the good:<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_43'></a>Take them and keep them surely. I have lived no empty days;<br /></span> +<span>The Norns were my nursing mothers; I have won the people's praise.<br /></span> +<span>When the Gods for one deed asked me I ever gave them twain;<br /></span> +<span>Spendthrift of glory I was, and great was my life-days' gain;<br /></span> +<span>Now these shards have been my fellow in the work the Gods would have,<br /></span> +<span>But today hath Odin taken the gift that once he gave.<br /></span> +<span>I have wrought for the Volsungs truly, and yet have I known full well<br /></span> +<span>That a better one than I am shall bear the tale to tell:<br /></span> +<span>And for him shall these shards be smithied; and he shall be my son<br /></span> +<span>To remember what I have forgotten and to do what I left undone."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then failed the voice of Sigmund; but so mighty was the man,<br /></span> +<span>That a long while yet he lingered till the dusky night grew wan,<br /></span> +<span>And she sat and sorrowed o'er him, but no more a word he spake.<br /></span> +<span>Then a long way over the sea-flood the day began to break;<br /></span> +<span>And when the sun was arisen a little he turned his head<br /></span> +<span>Till the low beams bathed his eyen, and there lay Sigmund dead.<br /></span> +<span>And the sun rose up on the earth; but where was the Volsung kin<br /></span> +<span>And the folk that the Gods had begotten the praise of all people to win?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p><i>How King Sigmund the Volsung was laid in mound on the sea-side +of the Isle-realm.</i></p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now Hiordis looked from the dead, and her eyes strayed down to the sea,<br /></span> +<span>And a shielded ship she saw, and a war-dight company,<br /></span> +<span>Who beached the ship for the landing: so swift she fled away,<br /></span> +<span>And once more to the depth of the thicket, wherein her handmaid lay:<br /></span> +<span>And she said: "I have left my lord, and my lord is dead and gone,<br /></span> +<span>And he gave me a charge full heavy, and here are we twain alone,<br /></span> +<span>And earls from the sea are landing: give me thy blue attire,<br /></span> +<span>And take my purple and gold and my crown of the sea-flood's fire,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_44'></a>And be thou the wife of King Volsung when men of our names shall ask,<br /></span> +<span>And I will be the handmaid: now I bid thee to this task,<br /></span> +<span>And I pray thee not to fail me, because of thy faith and truth,<br /></span> +<span>And because I have ever loved thee, and thy mother fostered my youth."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So the other nought gainsaith it and they shift their raiment there:<br /></span> +<span>But well-spoken was the maiden, and a woman tall and fair.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now the lord of those new-coming men was a king and the son of a king,<br /></span> +<span>King Elf the son of the Helper, and he sailed from warfaring<br /></span> +<span>And drew anigh to the Isle-realm and sailed along the strand;<br /></span> +<span>For the shipmen needed water and fain would go a-land;<br /></span> +<span>And King Elf stood hard by the tiller while the world was yet a-cold:<br /></span> +<span>Then the red sun lit the dawning, and they looked, and lo, behold!<br /></span> +<span>The wrack of a mighty battle, and heaps of the shielded dead,<br /></span> +<span>And a woman alive amidst them, a queen with crownèd head,<br /></span> +<span>And her eyes strayed down to the sea-strand, and she saw that weaponed folk,<br /></span> +<span>And turned and fled to the thicket: then the lord of the shipmen spoke:<br /></span> +<span>"Lo, here shall we lack for water, for the brooks with blood shall run,<br /></span> +<span>Yet wend we ashore to behold it and to wot of the deeds late done."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So they turned their faces to Sigmund, and waded the swathes of the sword.<br /></span> +<span>"O, look ye long," said the Sea-king, "for here lieth a mighty lord:<br /></span> +<span>And all these are the deeds of his war-flame, yet hardy hearts, be sure,<br /></span> +<span>That they once durst look in his face or the wrath of his eyen endure;<br /></span> +<span>Though his lips be glad and smiling as a God that dreameth of mirth.<br /></span> +<span>Would God I were one of his kindred, for none such are left upon earth.<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_45'></a>Now fare we into the thicket, for thereto is the woman fled,<br /></span> +<span>And belike she shall tell us the story of this field of the mighty dead."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So they wend and find the women, and bespeak them kind and fair:<br /></span> +<span>Then spake the gold-crowned handmaid: "Of the Isle-king's house we were,<br /></span> +<span>And I am the Queen called Hiordis; and the man that lies on the field<br /></span> +<span>Was mine own lord Sigmund the Volsung, the mightiest under shield."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then all amazed were the sea-folk when they hearkened to that word,<br /></span> +<span>And great and heavy tidings they deem their ears have heard:<br /></span> +<span>But again spake out the Sea-king: "And this blue-clad one beside,<br /></span> +<span>So pale, and as tall as a Goddess, and white and lovely eyed?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"In sooth and in troth," said the woman, "my serving-maid is this;<br /></span> +<span>She hath wept long over the battle, and sore afraid she is."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now the king looks hard upon her, but he saith no word thereto,<br /></span> +<span>And down again to the death-field with the women-folk they go.<br /></span> +<span>There they set their hands to the labour, and amidst the deadly mead<br /></span> +<span>They raise a mound for Sigmund, a mighty house indeed;<br /></span> +<span>And therein they set that folk-king, and goodly was his throne,<br /></span> +<span>And dight with gold and scarlet: and the walls of the house were done<br /></span> +<span>With the cloven shields of the foemen, and banners borne to field;<br /></span> +<span>But none might find his war-helm or the splinters of his shield,<br /></span> +<span>And clenched and fast was his right hand, but no sword therein he had:<br /></span> +<span>For Hiordis spake to the shipmen:<br /></span> +<span class='i12'>"Our lord and master bade<br /></span> +<span>That the shards of his glaive of battle should go with our lady the Queen:<br /></span> +<span>And by them that lie a-dying a many things are seen."<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p><a name='Page_46'></a><i>How Queen Hiordis is known; and how she abideth in the house of +Elf the son of the Helper.</i></p> + +<p>Then Elf asked of the two women where they would go, and they prayed +that he would take them to his land, where they dwelt for long in all +honour.</p> + +<p>But the old queen, the mother of Elf, was indeed a woman wise above +many, and fain would she know why the less noble of the two was +dressed the more richly and why the handmaid gave always wiser +counsel than her mistress. So she bade her son to speak suddenly and +to take them unawares.</p> + +<p>Then he asked the gold-clad one how she knew in the dark winter night +that the dawn was near. She answered that ever in her youth she awoke +at the dawn to follow her daily work, and always was she wont to +drink of whey, and now, though the times were changed, she still woke +athirst near the dawning.</p> + +<p>To Elf it seemed strange that a fair queen in her youth had need to +arise to follow the plough in the dark of the winter morning, and +turning to the handmaid he asked of her the same question. She +replied that in her youth her father had given her the gold ring she +still wore, and which had the magic power of growing cold as the +hours neared daybreak, and such was her dawning sign.</p> + +<p>Then did Elf know of their exchange, and he told Hiordis that long +had he loved her and felt pity for her sorrow, and that he would make +her his wife. So that night she sat on the high-seat with the crown +on her head, and dreamt of what had been and what was to be.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>So passeth the summer season, and the harvest of the year,<br /></span> +<span>And the latter days of the winter on toward the springtide wear.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='BOOK_II'></a><h2><a name='Page_47'></a>BOOK II.</h2> + +<h3>REGIN.</h3> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of the birth of Sigurd the son of Sigmund</i>.</p> + + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>Peace lay on the land of the Helper and the house of Elf his son;<br /></span> +<span>There merry men went bedward when their tide of toil was done,<br /></span> +<span>And glad was the dawn's awakening, and the noontide fair and glad:<br /></span> +<span>There no great store had the franklin, and enough the hireling had;<br /></span> +<span>And a child might go unguarded the length and breadth of the land<br /></span> +<span>With a purse of gold at his girdle and gold rings on his hand.<br /></span> +<span>'Twas a country of cunning craftsmen, and many a thing they wrought,<br /></span> +<span>That the lands of storm desired, and the homes of warfare sought.<br /></span> +<span>But men deemed it o'er-well warded by more than its stems of fight,<br /></span> +<span>And told how its earth-born watchers yet lived of plenteous might.<br /></span> +<span>So hidden was that country, and few men sailed its sea,<br /></span> +<span>And none came o'er its mountains of men-folk's company.<br /></span> +<span>But fair-fruited, many-peopled, it lies a goodly strip,<br /></span> +<span>'Twixt the mountains cloudy-headed and the sea-flood's surging lip,<br /></span> +<span>And a perilous flood is its ocean, and its mountains, who shall tell<br /></span> +<span>What things, in their dales deserted and their wind-swept heaths may dwell.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Again, in the house of the Helper there dwelt a certain man<br /></span> +<span>Beardless and low of stature, of visage pinched and wan:<br /></span> +<span>So exceeding old was Regin, that no son of man could tell<br /></span> +<span>In what year of the days passed over he came to that land to dwell:<br /></span> +<span>But the youth of King Elf had he fostered, and the Helper's youth thereto,<br /></span> +<span>Yea and his father's father's: the lore of all men he knew,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_48'></a>And was deft in every cunning, save the dealings of the sword:<br /></span> +<span>So sweet was his tongue-speech fashioned, that men trowed his every word;<br /></span> +<span>His hand with the harp-strings blended was the mingler of delight<br /></span> +<span>With the latter days of sorrow; all tales he told aright;<br /></span> +<span>The Master of the Masters in the smithying craft was he;<br /></span> +<span>And he dealt with the wind and the weather and the stilling of the sea;<br /></span> +<span>Nor might any learn him leech-craft, for before that race was made,<br /></span> +<span>And that man-folk's generation, all their life-days had he weighed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In this land of the Helper and Elf, his son, dwelt Hiordis, and here +her son, the last of the Volsungs, was born. The babe had eyes of +such wondrous brightness that the folk shrank from him, while they +rejoiced over his birth, but his mother spake to the babe as to one +who might understand, and she told him of Sigmund and Volsung, of +their wars and their troubles and their joys. Then she gave him to +her maids to bear him to the kings of the land that they might +rejoice with her.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>But there sat the Helper of Men with King Elf and his Earls in the hall,<br /></span> +<span>And they spake of the deeds that had been, and told of the times to befall,<br /></span> +<span>And they hearkened and heard sweet voices and the sound of harps draw nigh,<br /></span> +<span>Till their hearts were exceeding merry and they knew not wherefore or why:<br /></span> +<span>Then, lo, in the hall white raiment, as thither the damsels came,<br /></span> +<span>And amid the hands of the foremost was the woven gold aflame.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"O daughters of earls," said the Helper, "what tidings then do ye bear?<br /></span> +<span>Is it grief in the merry morning, or joy or wonder or fear?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Quoth the first: "It is grief for the foemen that the Masters of God-home would grieve."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span><a name='Page_49'></a>Said the next: "'Tis a wonder of wonders, that the hearkening world shall believe."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"A fear of all fears," said the third, "for the sword is uplifted on men."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"A joy of all joys," said the fourth, "once come, and it comes not again!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"What then hath betid," said King Elf, "do the high Gods stand in our gate?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Nay," said they, "else were we silent, and they should be telling of fate."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Is the bidding come," said the Helper, "that we wend the Gods to see?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Many summers and winters," they said, "ye shall live on the earth, it may be."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Speak then," said the ancient Helper, "let the worst and the best be said."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>They said: "The earth is weary: but the tender blade hath sprung,<br /></span> +<span>That shall wax till beneath its branches fair bloom the meadows green;<br /></span> +<span>For the Gods and they that were mighty were glad erewhile with the Queen."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Said King Elf: "How say ye, women? Of a King new-born do ye tell,<br /></span> +<span>By a God of the Heavens begotten in our fathers' house to dwell?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"By a God of the Earth," they answered; "but greater yet is the son,<br /></span> +<span>Though long were the days of Sigmund, and great are the deeds he hath done."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span><a name='Page_50'></a>Then she with the golden burden to the kingly high-seat stepped<br /></span> +<span>And away from the new-born baby the purple cloths she swept,<br /></span> +<span>And cried: "O King of the people, long mayst thou live in bliss,<br /></span> +<span>As our hearts today are happy! Queen Hiordis sends thee this,<br /></span> +<span>And she saith that the world shall call it by the name that thou shalt name;<br /></span> +<span>Now the gift to thee is given, and to thee is brought the fame."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then e'en as a man astonied King Elf the Volsung took,<br /></span> +<span>While his feast-hall's ancient timbers with the cry of the earl-folk shook;<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>With the love of many peoples was the wise king smitten through,<br /></span> +<span>As he hung o'er the new-born Volsung: but at last he raised his head,<br /></span> +<span>And looked forth kind o'er his people, and spake aloud and said:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"O Sigmund King of Battle; O man of many days,<br /></span> +<span>Whom I saw mid the shields of the fallen and the dead men's silent praise,<br /></span> +<span>Lo, how hath the dark tide perished and the dawn of day begun!<br /></span> +<span>And now, O mighty Sigmund, wherewith shall we name thy son?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But there rose up a man most ancient, and he cried: "Hail Dawn of the Day!<br /></span> +<span>How many things shalt thou quicken, how many shalt thou slay!<br /></span> +<span>How many things shalt thou waken, how many lull to sleep!<br /></span> +<span>How many things shalt thou scatter, how many gather and keep!<br /></span> +<span>O me, how thy love shall cherish, how thine hate shall wither and burn!<br /></span> +<span>How the hope shall be sped from thy right hand, nor the fear to thy left return!<br /></span> +<span>O thy deeds that men shall sing of! O thy deeds that the Gods shall see!<br /></span> +<span>O SIGURD, Son of the Volsungs, O Victory yet to be!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'><a name='Page_51'></a> +<span>Men heard the name and they knew it, and they caught it up in the air,<br /></span> +<span>And it went abroad by the windows and the doors of the feast-hall fair,<br /></span> +<span>It went through street and market; o'er meadow and acre it went,<br /></span> +<span>And over the wind-stirred forest and the dearth of the sea-beat bent,<br /></span> +<span>And over the sea-flood's welter, till the folk of the fishers heard,<br /></span> +<span>And the hearts of the isle-abiders on the sun-scorched rocks were stirred.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div></div> + +<p><i>Sigurd getteth to him the horse that is called Greyfell.</i></p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now waxeth the son of Sigmund in might and goodliness,<br /></span> +<span>And soft the days win over, and all men his beauty bless.<br /></span> +<span>But amidst the summer season was the Isle-queen Hiordis wed<br /></span> +<span>To King Elf the son of the Helper, and fair their life-days sped.<br /></span> +<span>Peace lay on the land for ever, and the fields gave good increase,<br /></span> +<span>And there was Sigurd waxing mid the plenty and the peace.<br /></span> +<span>Now hath the child grown greater, and is keen and eager of wit<br /></span> +<span>And full of understanding, and oft hath he joy to sit<br /></span> +<span>Amid talk of weighty matters when the wise men meet for speech;<br /></span> +<span>And joyous he is moreover and blithe and kind with each.<br /></span> +<span>But Regin the wise craftsmaster heedeth the youngling well,<br /></span> +<span>And before the Kings he cometh, and saith such words to tell.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"I have fostered thy youth, King Elf, and thine O Helper of men,<br /></span> +<span>And ye wot that such a master no king shall see again;<br /></span> +<span>And now would I foster Sigurd; for, though he be none of thy blood,<br /></span> +<span>Mine heart of his days that shall be speaketh abundant good."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then spake the Helper of men-folk: "Yea, do herein thy will:<br /></span> +<span>For thou art the Master of Masters, and hast learned me all my skill:<br /></span> +<span>But think how bright is this youngling, and thy guile from him withhold;<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_52'></a>For this craft of thine hath shown me that thy heart is grim and cold,<br /></span> +<span>Though three men's lives thrice over thy wisdom might not learn;<br /></span> +<span>And I love this son of Sigmund, and mine heart to him doth yearn."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Regin laughed, and answered: "I doled out cunning to thee;<br /></span> +<span>But nought with him will I measure: yet no cold-heart shall he be,<br /></span> +<span>Nor grim, nor evil-natured: for whate'er my will might frame,<br /></span> +<span>Gone forth is the word of the Norns, that abideth ever the same.<br /></span> +<span>And now, despite my cunning, how deem ye I shall die?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>And they said he would live as he listed, and at last in peace should lie<br /></span> +<span>When he listed to live no longer; so mighty and wise he was.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But again he laughed and answered: "One day it shall come to pass,<br /></span> +<span>That a beardless youth shall slay me: I know the fateful doom;<br /></span> +<span>But nought may I withstand it, as it heaves up dim through the gloom."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So is Sigurd now with Regin, and he learns him many things;<br /></span> +<span>Yea, all save the craft of battle, that men learned the sons of kings:<br /></span> +<span>The smithying sword and war-coat; the carving runes aright;<br /></span> +<span>The tongues of many countries, and soft speech for men's delight;<br /></span> +<span>The dealing with the harp-strings, and the winding ways of song.<br /></span> +<span>So wise of heart waxed Sigurd, and of body wondrous strong:<br /></span> +<span>And he chased the deer of the forest, and many a wood-wolf slew,<br /></span> +<span>And many a bull of the mountains: and the desert dales he knew,<br /></span> +<span>And the heaths that the wind sweeps over; and seaward would he fare,<br /></span> +<span>Far out from the outer skerries, and alone the sea-wights dare.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>One day did Regin tell Sigurd of deeds done in the past by kings both +bold and wise, and the lad longed, too, to do the like, and his +bright eyes glowed with desire. And Regin told him that he should +follow his Volsung fathers and roam far and wide, leaving the +peace-lovers and home-abiders who had cherished his youth.</p> + +<p><a name='Page_53'></a>This roused Sigurd's wrath, for he would have nought said against +those who had reared him, but Regin bade him ask for one of the +horses of Gripir, and banished his anger by a song of the deeds of +the Choosers of the Slain. Before the song was finished Sigurd went +to King Elf and asked that he might have authority to seek a horse +from King Gripir.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then smiled King Elf, and answered: "A long way wilt thou ride,<br /></span> +<span>To where unpeace and troubles and the griefs of the soul abide,<br /></span> +<span>Yea unto the death at the last: yet surely shall thou win<br /></span> +<span>The praise of many a people: so have thy way herein.<br /></span> +<span>Forsooth no more may we hold thee than the hazel copse may hold<br /></span> +<span>The sun of the early dawning, that turneth it all unto gold."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then sweetly Sigurd thanked them; and through the night he lay<br /></span> +<span>Mid dreams of many a matter till the dawn was on the way;<br /></span> +<span>Then he shook the sleep from off him, and that dwelling of Kings he left<br /></span> +<span>And wended his ways unto Gripir. On a crag from the mountain reft<br /></span> +<span>Was the house of the old King builded; and a mighty house it was,<br /></span> +<span>Though few were the sons of men that over its threshold would pass:<br /></span> +<span>But the wild ernes cried about it, and the vultures toward it flew,<br /></span> +<span>And the winds from the heart of the mountains searched every chamber through,<br /></span> +<span>And about were meads wide-spreading; and many a beast thereon,<br /></span> +<span>Yea some that are men-folk's terror, their sport and pasture won.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So into the hall went Sigurd; and amidst was Gripir set<br /></span> +<span>In a chair of the sea-beast's tooth; and his sweeping beard nigh met<br /></span> +<span>The floor that was green as the ocean, and his gown was of mountain-gold,<br /></span> +<span>And the kingly staff in his hand was knobbed with the crystal cold.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span><a name='Page_54'></a>Now the first of the twain spake Gripir: "Hail King with the eyen bright!<br /></span> +<span>Nought needest thou show the token, for I know of thy life and thy light.<br /></span> +<span>And no need to tell of thy message; it was wafted here on the wind,<br /></span> +<span>That thou wouldst be coming today a horse in my meadow to find:<br /></span> +<span>And strong must he be for the bearing of those deeds of thine that shall be.<br /></span> +<span>Now choose thou of all the way-wearers that are running loose in my lea."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then again gat Sigurd outward, and adown the steep he ran<br /></span> +<span>And unto the horse-fed meadow: but lo, a grey-clad man,<br /></span> +<span>One-eyed and seeming ancient, there met him by the way:<br /></span> +<span>And he spake: "Thou hastest, Sigurd; yet tarry till I say<br /></span> +<span>A word that shall well bestead thee: for I know of these mountains well<br /></span> +<span>And all the lea of Gripir, and the beasts that thereon dwell."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Wouldst thou have red gold for thy tidings? art thou Gripir's horse-herd then?<br /></span> +<span>Nay sure, for thy face is shining like the battle-eager men<br /></span> +<span>My master Regin tells of: and I love thy cloud-grey gown,<br /></span> +<span>And thy visage gleams above it like a thing my dreams have known."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Nay whiles have I heeded the horse-kind," then spake that elder of days,<br /></span> +<span>"And sooth do the sages say, when the beasts of my breeding they praise.<br /></span> +<span>There is one thereof in the meadow, and, wouldst thou cull him out,<br /></span> +<span>Thou shalt follow an elder's counsel, who hath brought strange things about,<br /></span> +<span>Who hath known thy father aforetime, and other kings of thy kin."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So Sigurd said, "I am ready; and what is the deed to win?"<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_55'></a>He said: "We shall drive the horses adown to the water-side,<br /></span> +<span>That cometh forth from the mountains, and note what next shall betide."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then the twain sped on together, and they drave the horses on<br /></span> +<span>Till they came to a rushing river, a water wide and wan;<br /></span> +<span>And the white mews hovered o'er it; but none might hear their cry<br /></span> +<span>For the rush and the rattle of waters, as the downlong flood swept by.<br /></span> +<span>So the whole herd took the river and strove the stream to stem,<br /></span> +<span>And many a brave steed was there; but the flood o'ermastered them:<br /></span> +<span>And some, it swept them down-ward, and some won back to bank,<br /></span> +<span>Some, caught by the net of the eddies, in the swirling hubbub sank;<br /></span> +<span>But one of all swam over, and they saw his mane of grey<br /></span> +<span>Toss over the flowery meadows, a bright thing far away:<br /></span> +<span>Wide then he wheeled about them, then took the stream again<br /></span> +<span>And with the waves' white horses mingled his cloudy mane.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then spake the elder of days: "Hearken now, Sigurd, and hear;<br /></span> +<span>Time was when I gave thy father a gift thou shalt yet deem dear,<br /></span> +<span>And this horse is a gift of my giving:—heed nought where thou mayst ride:<br /></span> +<span>For I have seen thy fathers in a shining house abide,<br /></span> +<span>And on earth they thought of its threshold, and the gifts I had to give;<br /></span> +<span>Nor prayed for a little longer, and a little longer to live."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then forth he strode to the mountains, and fain was Sigurd now.<br /></span> +<span>To ask him many a matter: but dim did his bright shape grow,<br /></span> +<span>As a man from the litten doorway fades into the dusk of night;<br /></span> +<span>And the sun in the high-noon shone, and the world was exceeding bright.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So Sigurd turned to the river and stood by the wave-wet strand,<br /></span> +<span>And the grey horse swims to his feet and lightly leaps aland,<br /></span> +<span>And the youngling looks upon him, and deems none beside him good.<br /></span> +<span>And indeed, as tells the story, he was come of Sleipnir's blood,<br /></span> +<span>The tireless horse of Odin: cloud-grey he was of hue,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_56'></a>And it seemed as Sigurd backed him that Sigmund's son he knew,<br /></span> +<span>So glad he went beneath him. Then the youngling's song arose<br /></span> +<span>As he brushed through the noontide blossoms of Gripir's mighty close,<br /></span> +<span>Then he singeth the song of Greyfell, the horse that Odin gave,<br /></span> +<span>Who swam through the sweeping river, and back through the toppling wave.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p><i>Regin telleth Sigurd of his kindred, and of the Gold that was +accursed from ancient days.</i></p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now yet the days pass over, and more than words may tell<br /></span> +<span>Grows Sigurd strong and lovely, and all children love him well.<br /></span> +<span>But oft he looks on the mountains and many a time is fain<br /></span> +<span>To know of what lies beyond them, and learn of the wide world's gain.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now again it happed on a day that he sat in Regin's hall<br /></span> +<span>And hearkened many tidings of what had chanced to fall,<br /></span> +<span>And of kings that sought their kingdoms o'er many a waste and wild,<br /></span> +<span>And at last saith the crafty master:<br /></span> +<span class='i12'>"Thou art King Sigmund's child:<br /></span> +<span>Wilt thou wait till these kings of the carles shall die in a little land,<br /></span> +<span>Or wilt thou serve their sons and carry the cup to their hand;<br /></span> +<span>Or abide in vain for the day that never shall come about,<br /></span> +<span>When their banners shall dance in the wind and shake to the war-gods' shout?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Sigurd answered and said: "Nought such do I look to be.<br /></span> +<span>But thou, a deedless man, too much thou eggest me:<br /></span> +<span>And these folk are good and trusty, and the land is lovely and sweet,<br /></span> +<span>And in rest and in peace it lieth as the floor of Odin's feet:<br /></span> +<span>Yet I know that the world is wide, and filled with deeds unwrought;<br /></span> +<span>And for e'en such work was I fashioned, lest the songcraft come to nought."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span><a name='Page_57'></a>Then answered Regin the guileful: "The deed is ready to hand,<br /></span> +<span>Yet holding my peace is the best, for well thou lovest the land;<br /></span> +<span>And thou lovest thy life moreover, and the peace of thy youthful days,<br /></span> +<span>And why should the full-fed feaster his hand to the rye-bread raise?<br /></span> +<span>Yet they say that Sigmund begat thee and he looked to fashion a man.<br /></span> +<span>Fear nought; he lieth quiet in his mound by the sea-waves wan."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So shone the eyes of Sigurd, that the shield against him hung<br /></span> +<span>Cast back their light as the sunbeams; but his voice to the roof-tree rung:<br /></span> +<span>"Tell me, thou Master of Masters, what deed is the deed I shall do?<br /></span> +<span>Nor mock thou the son of Sigmund lest the day of his birth thou rue."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then answered the Master of Sleight: "The deed is the righting of wrong,<br /></span> +<span>And the quelling a bale and a sorrow that the world hath endured o'erlong,<br /></span> +<span>And the winning a treasure untold, that shall make thee more than the kings;<br /></span> +<span>Thereof is the Helm of Aweing, the wonder of earthly things,<br /></span> +<span>And thereof is its very fellow, the War-Coat all of gold,<br /></span> +<span>That has not its like in the heavens, nor has earth of its fellow told."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then answered Sigurd the Volsung: "How long hereof hast thou known?<br /></span> +<span>And what unto thee is this treasure, that thou seemest to give as thine own?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Alas!" quoth the smithying master, "it is mine, yet none of mine,<br /></span> +<span>Since my heart herein avails not, and my hand is frail and fine—<br /></span> +<span>It is long since I first came hither to seek a man for my need;<br /></span> +<span>For I saw by a glimmering light that hence would spring the deed,<br /></span> +<span>And many a deed of the world: but the generations passed,<br /></span> +<span>And the first of the days was as near to the end that I sought as the last;<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_58'></a>Till I looked on thine eyes in the cradle: and now I deem through thee,<br /></span> +<span>That the end of my days of waiting, and the end of my woes shall be."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Sigurd awhile was silent; but at last he answered and said:<br /></span> +<span>"Thou shalt have thy will and the treasure, and shalt take the curse on thine head<br /></span> +<span>If a curse the gold enwrappeth: but the deed will I surely do,<br /></span> +<span>For today the dreams of my childhood hath bloomed in my heart anew:<br /></span> +<span>And I long to look on the world and the glory of the earth<br /></span> +<span>And to deal in the dealings of men, and garner the harvest of worth.<br /></span> +<span>But tell me, thou Master of Masters, where lieth this measureless wealth;<br /></span> +<span>Is it guarded by swords of the earl-folk, or kept by cunning and stealth?<br /></span> +<span>Is it over the main sea's darkness, or beyond the mountain wall?<br /></span> +<span>Or e'en in these peaceful acres anigh to the hands of all?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Regin answered sweetly: "Hereof must a tale be told:<br /></span> +<span>Bide sitting, thou son of Sigmund, on the heap of unwrought gold,<br /></span> +<span>And hearken of wondrous matters, and of things unheard, unsaid,<br /></span> +<span>And deeds of my beholding ere the first of Kings was made.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"And first ye shall know of a sooth, that I never was born of the race<br /></span> +<span>Which the masters of God-home have made to cover the fair earth's face;<br /></span> +<span>But I come of the Dwarfs departed; and fair was the earth whileome<br /></span> +<span>Ere the short-lived thralls of the Gods amidst its dales were come.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"It was Reidmar the Ancient begat me; and now was he waxen old,<br /></span> +<span>And a covetous man and a king; and he bade, and I built him a hall,<br /></span> +<span>And a golden glorious house; and thereto his sons did he call,<br /></span> +<span>And he bade them be evil and wise, that his will through them might be wrought.<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_59'></a>Then he gave unto Fafnir my brother the soul that feareth nought,<br /></span> +<span>And the brow of the hardened iron, and the hand that may never fail,<br /></span> +<span>And the greedy heart of a king, and the ear that hears no wail.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"But next unto Otter my brother he gave the snare and the net,<br /></span> +<span>And the longing to wend through the wild-wood, and wade the highways wet:<br /></span> +<span>And the foot that never resteth, while aught be left alive<br /></span> +<span>That hath cunning to match man's cunning or might with his might to strive.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"And to me, the least and the youngest, what gift for the slaying of ease?<br /></span> +<span>Save the grief that remembers the past, and the fear that the future sees;<br /></span> +<span>And the hammer and fashioning-iron, and the living coal of fire;<br /></span> +<span>And the craft that createth a semblance, and fails of the heart's desire;<br /></span> +<span>And the toil that each dawning quickens and the task that is never done;<br /></span> +<span>And the heart that longeth ever, nor will look to the deed that is won.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Thus gave my father the gifts that might never be taken again;<br /></span> +<span>Far worse were we now than the Gods, and but little better than men.<br /></span> +<span>But yet of our ancient might one thing had we left us still:<br /></span> +<span>We had craft to change our semblance, and could shift us at our will<br /></span> +<span>Into bodies of the beast-kind, or fowl, or fishes cold;<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"So dwelt we, brethren and father; and Fafnir my brother fared<br /></span> +<span>As the scourge and compeller of all things, and left no wrong undared;<br /></span> +<span>But for me, I toiled and I toiled; and fair grew my father's house;<br /></span> +<span>But writhen and foul were the hands that had made it glorious;<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"And myself a little fragment amidst it all I saw,<br /></span> +<span>Grim, cold-hearted, and unmighty as the tempest-driven straw.<br /></span> +<span>—Let be.—For Otter my brother saw seldom field or fold,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_60'></a>And he oftenest used that custom, whereof e'en now I told,<br /></span> +<span>And would shift his shape with the wood-beasts and the things of land and sea;<br /></span> +<span>And he knew what joy their hearts had, and what they longed to be,<br /></span> +<span>And their dim-eyed understanding, and his wood-craft waxed so great,<br /></span> +<span>That he seemed the king of the creatures and their very mortal fate.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Now as the years won over three folk of the heavenly halls<br /></span> +<span>Grew aweary of sleepless sloth, and the day that nought befalls;<br /></span> +<span>And they fain would look on the earth, and their latest handiwork,<br /></span> +<span>And turn the fine gold over, lest a flaw therein should lurk.<br /></span> +<span>And the three were the heart-wise Odin, the Father of the Slain,<br /></span> +<span>And Loki, the World's Begrudger, who maketh all labour vain,<br /></span> +<span>And Hœnir, the Utter-Blameless, who wrought the hope of man,<br /></span> +<span>And his heart and inmost yearnings, when first the work began;—"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The three wandered over the earth till they came to a mighty river, +haunted for long by Otter, by reason of its great wealth of fish. +There he lay on the bank, and as he watched the fish in the water his +shape was changed to that of a true otter, and he began to devour a +golden trout. Two of the gods would have passed without stay, but in +the otter Loki saw an enemy, and straightway killed him, rejoicing +over his dead body.</p> + +<p>As night fell the three gods came to a great hall, wondrously wrought +and carved, with golden hangings and forests of pillars. In the midst +of the hall sat a king on an ivory throne, and his garments were made +of purple from the sea. Kind welcome he gave to the wanderers, and +there they feasted and delighted in music and song; but even as they +drank and made merry they knew they were caught in the snare.</p> + +<p>The king's welcome changed to scornful laughter, and thus he spoke: +"Truly are ye gods, but ye are come to people who want you not. +Before ye were known to us, still was the winter cold, <a name='Page_61'></a>and the summer warm, and still could we find meat and drink. I +am Reidmar, and ye come straight from the slaying of Reidmar's son. +Shall I not then take the vengeance I will? Unless, indeed, ye give +me the treasure I covet, and then shall ye go your way. This is my +sentence. Choose ye which ye will."</p> + +<p>Then spake the wise Allfather and prayed Reidmar to unsay his word, +and cease to desire the gold. But Reidmar the Wise, and Fafnir the +Lord, and Regin the Worker cried aloud in their wrath:—</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>"'O hearken Gods of the Goths! ye shall die, and we shall be Gods,<br /></span> +<span>And rule your men belovèd with bitter-heavy rods,<br /></span> +<span>And make them beasts beneath us, save today ye do our will,<br /></span> +<span>And pay us the ransom of blood, and our hearts with the gold fulfill.'<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"But Odin spake in answer, and his voice was awful and cold:<br /></span> +<span>'Give righteous doom, O Reidmar! say what ye will of the Gold!'<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Then Reidmar laughed in his heart, and his wrath and his wisdom fled,<br /></span> +<span>And nought but his greed abided; and he spake from his throne and said:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"'Now hearken the doom I shall speak! Ye stranger-folk shall be free<br /></span> +<span>When ye give me the Flame of the Waters, the gathered Gold of the Sea,<br /></span> +<span>That Andvari hideth rejoicing in the wan realm pale as the grave;<br /></span> +<span>And the Master of Sleight shall fetch it, and the hand that never gave,<br /></span> +<span>And the heart that begrudgeth for ever shall gather and give and rue.<br /></span> +<span>—Lo this is the doom of the wise, and no doom shall be spoken anew.'<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Then Odin spake: 'It is well; the Curser shall seek for the curse;<br /></span> +<span>And the Greedy shall cherish the evil—and the seed of the Great they shall nurse.'<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"No word spake Reidmar the great, for the eyes of his heart were turned<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_62'></a>To the edge of the outer desert, so sore for the gold he yearned.<br /></span> +<span>But Loki I loosed from the toils, and he goeth his way abroad;<br /></span> +<span>And the heart of Odin he knoweth, and where he shall seek the Hoard.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"There is a desert of dread in the uttermost part of the world,<br /></span> +<span>Where over a wall of mountains is a mighty water hurled,<br /></span> +<span>Whose hidden head none knoweth, nor where it meeteth the sea;<br /></span> +<span>And that force is the Force of Andvari, and an Elf of the Dark is he.<br /></span> +<span>In the cloud and the desert he dwelleth amid that land alone;<br /></span> +<span>And his work is the storing of treasure within his house of stone.<br /></span> +<span>Time was when he knew of wisdom, and had many a tale to tell<br /></span> +<span>Of the days before the Dwarf-age, and of what in that world befell:<br /></span> +<span>And he knew of the stars and the sun, and the worlds that come and go<br /></span> +<span>On the nether rim of heaven, and whence the wind doth blow,<br /></span> +<span>And how the sea hangs balanced betwixt the curving lands,<br /></span> +<span>And how all drew together for the first Gods' fashioning hands.<br /></span> +<span>But now is all gone from him, save the craft of gathering gold,<br /></span> +<span>And he heedeth nought of the summer, nor knoweth the winter cold,<br /></span> +<span>Nor looks to the sun nor the snowfall, nor ever dreams of the sea,<br /></span> +<span>Nor hath heard of the making of men-folk, nor of where the high Gods be;<br /></span> +<span>But ever he gripeth and gathereth, and he toileth hour by hour,<br /></span> +<span>Nor knoweth the noon from the midnight as he looks on his stony bower,<br /></span> +<span>And saith: 'It is short, it is narrow for all I shall gather and get;<br /></span> +<span>For the world is but newly fashioned, and long shall its years be yet.'<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"There Loki fareth, and seeth in a land of nothing good,<br /></span> +<span>Far off o'er the empty desert, the reek of the falling flood<br /></span> +<span>Go up to the floor of heaven, and thither turn his feet<br /></span> +<span>As he weaveth the unseen meshes and the snare of strong deceit;<br /></span> +<span>So he cometh his ways to the water, where the glittering foam-bow glows,<br /></span> +<span>And the huge flood leaps the rock-wall and a green arch over it throws.<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_63'></a>There under the roof of water he treads the quivering floor,<br /></span> +<span>And the hush of the desert is felt amid the water's roar,<br /></span> +<span>And the bleak sun lighteth the wave-vault, and tells of the fruitless plain,<br /></span> +<span>And the showers that nourish nothing, and the summer come in vain.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"There did the great Guile-master his toils and his tangles set,<br /></span> +<span>And as wide as was the water, so wide was woven the net;<br /></span> +<span>And as dim as the Elf's remembrance did the meshes of it show;<br /></span> +<span>And he had no thought of sorrow, nor spared to come and go<br /></span> +<span>On his errands of griping and getting till he felt himself tangled and caught:<br /></span> +<span>Then back to his blinded soul was his ancient wisdom brought,<br /></span> +<span>And he saw his fall and his ruin, as a man by the lightning's flame<br /></span> +<span>Sees the garth all flooded by foemen; and again he remembered his name;<br /></span> +<span>And e'en as a book well written the tale of the Gods he knew,<br /></span> +<span>And the tale of the making of men, and much of the deeds they should do.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Then Andvari groaned and answered: 'I know what thou wouldst have,<br /></span> +<span>The wealth mine own hands gathered, the gold that no man gave.'<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"'Come forth,' said Loki, 'and give it, and dwell in peace henceforth—<br /></span> +<span>Or die in the toils if thou listeth, if thy life be nothing worth.'<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Full sore the Elf lamented, but he came before the God,<br /></span> +<span>And the twain went into the rock-house and on fine gold they trod,<br /></span> +<span>And the walls shone bright, and brighter than the sun of the upper air.<br /></span> +<span>How great was that treasure of treasures: and the Helm of Dread was there;<br /></span> +<span>The world but in dreams had seen it; and there was the hauberk of gold;<br /></span> +<span>None other is in the heavens, nor has earth of its fellow told.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"<a name='Page_64'></a>Then Loki bade the Elf-king bring all to the upper day,<br /></span> +<span>And he dight himself with his Godhead to bear the treasure away:<br /></span> +<span>So there in the dim grey desert before the God of Guile,<br /></span> +<span>Great heaps of the hid-world's treasure the weary Elf must pile,<br /></span> +<span>And Loki looked on laughing: but, when it all was done,<br /></span> +<span>And the Elf was hurrying homeward, his finger gleamed in the sun:<br /></span> +<span>Then Loki cried: 'Thou art guileful: thou hast not learned the tale<br /></span> +<span>Of the wisdom that Gods hath gotten and their might of all avail.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"'Come hither again to thy master, and give the ring to me;<br /></span> +<span>For meseems it is Loki's portion, and the Bale of Men shall it be.'<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Then the Elf drew off the gold-ring and stood with empty hand<br /></span> +<span>E'en where the flood fell over 'twixt the water and the land,<br /></span> +<span>And he gazed on the great Guile-master, and huge and grim he grew;<br /></span> +<span>And his anguish swelled within him, and the word of the Norns he knew;<br /></span> +<span>How that gold was the seed of gold to the wise and the shapers of things,<br /></span> +<span>The hoarders of hidden treasure, and the unseen glory of rings;<br /></span> +<span>But the seed of woe to the world and the foolish wasters of men,<br /></span> +<span>And grief to the generations that die and spring again:<br /></span> +<span>Then he cried:<br /></span> +<span class='i4'>'There farest thou Loki, and might I load thee worse<br /></span> +<span>Than with what thine ill heart beareth, then shouldst thou bear my curse:<br /></span> +<span>But for men a curse thou bearest: entangled in my gold,<br /></span> +<span>Amid my woe abideth another woe untold.<br /></span> +<span>Two brethren and a father, eight kings my grief shall slay;<br /></span> +<span>And the hearts of queens shall be broken, and their eyes shall loathe the day.'<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"But Loki laughed in silence, and swift in Godhead went,<br /></span> +<span>To the golden hall of Reidmar and the house of our content.<br /></span> +<span>But when that world of treasure was laid within our hall<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_65'></a>'Twas as if the sun were minded to live 'twixt wall and wall,<br /></span> +<span>And all we stood by and panted. Then Odin spake and said:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"'O Kings, O folk of the Dwarf-kind, lo, the ransom duly paid!<br /></span> +<span>Will ye have this sun of the ocean, and reap the fruitful field,<br /></span> +<span>And garner up the harvest that earth therefrom shall yield.'<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"So he spake; but a little season nought answered Reidmar the wise,<br /></span> +<span>But turned his face from the Treasure, and peered with eager eyes<br /></span> +<span>Endlong the hall and athwart it, as a man may chase about<br /></span> +<span>A ray of the sun of the morning that a naked sword throws out;<br /></span> +<span>And lo from Loki's right-hand came the flash of the fruitful ring,<br /></span> +<span>And at last spake Reidmar scowling:<br /></span> +<span class='i12'>'Ye wait for my yea-saying<br /></span> +<span>That your feet may go free on the earth, and the fear of my toils may be done;<br /></span> +<span>That then ye may say in your laughter: The fools of the time agone!<br /></span> +<span>The purblind eyes of the Dwarf-kind! they have gotten the garnered sheaf<br /></span> +<span>And have let their Masters depart with the Seed of Gold and of Grief:<br /></span> +<span>O Loki, friend of Allfather, cast down Andvari's ring,<br /></span> +<span>Or the world shall yet turn backward and the high heavens lack a king.'<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Then Loki drew off the Elf-ring and cast it down on the heap,<br /></span> +<span>And forth as the gold met gold did the light of its glory leap:<br /></span> +<span>But he spake: 'It rejoiceth my heart that no whit of all ye shall lack.<br /></span> +<span>Lest the curse of the Elf-king cleave not, and ye 'scape the utter wrack.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then Regin loosed the shackles of the gods and they departed into the +night, but Odin stayed in the doorway and thus he spake: "Why do ye +thus desire treasure and take sorrow to yourselves? Know ye not that +I was before your fathers' fathers, and that I can foresee your fate, +and the end of the gold ye covet? I am the Wise One who ordereth all."</p> + +<p><a name='Page_66'></a>Then they went, but Regin afterwards often recalled Odin's words and +the evening filled with the gleam of the gold, but little cared he +then, so well he loved the gold. And he prayed his father to keep the +treasure, but give a little unto him and Fafnir for the help they had +given him that day.</p> + +<p>His father in no wise heeded his words, but sat ever on his ivory +throne, staring moodily at the gold. But Fafnir grew fierce and grim +as he watched him.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>"The night waned into the morning, and still above the Hoard<br /></span> +<span>Sat Reidmar clad in purple; but Fafnir took his sword,<br /></span> +<span>And I took my smithying-hammer, and apart in the world we went;<br /></span> +<span>But I came aback in the even, and my heart was heavy and spent;<br /></span> +<span>And I longed, but fear was upon me and I durst not go to the Gold;<br /></span> +<span>So I lay in the house of my toil mid the things I had fashioned of old;<br /></span> +<span>And methought as I lay in my bed 'twixt waking and slumber of night<br /></span> +<span>That I heard the tinkling metal and beheld the hall alight,<br /></span> +<span>But I slept and dreamed of the Gods, and the things that never have slept,<br /></span> +<span>Till I woke to a cry and a clashing and forth from the bed I leapt,<br /></span> +<span>And there by the heaped-up Elf-gold my brother Fafnir stood,<br /></span> +<span>And there at his feet lay Reidmar and reddened the Treasure with blood;<br /></span> +<span>And e'en as I looked on his eyen they glazed and whitened with death,<br /></span> +<span>And forth on the torch-litten hall he shed his latest breath.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"But I looked on Fafnir and trembled for he wore the Helm of Dread,<br /></span> +<span>And his sword was bare in his hand, and the sword and the hand were red<br /></span> +<span>With the blood of our father Reidmar, and his body was wrapped in gold,<br /></span> +<span>With the ruddy-gleaming mailcoat of whose fellow hath nought been told,<br /></span> +<span>And it seemed as I looked upon him that he grew beneath mine eyes:<br /></span> +<span>And then in the mid-hall's silence did his dreadful voice arise:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"<a name='Page_67'></a>'I have slain my father Reidmar, that I alone might keep<br /></span> +<span>The Gold of the darksome places, the Candle of the Deep.<br /></span> +<span>I am such as the Gods have made me, lest the Dwarf-kind people the earth,<br /></span> +<span>Or mingle their ancient wisdom with its short-lived latest birth.<br /></span> +<span>I shall dwell alone henceforward, and the Gold and its waxing curse,<br /></span> +<span>I shall brood on them both together, let my life grow better or worse.<br /></span> +<span>And I am a King henceforward and long shall be my life,<br /></span> +<span>And the Gold shall grow with my longing, for I shall hide it from strife,'<br /></span> +<span>And hoard up the Ring of Andvari in the house thine hand hath built.<br /></span> +<span>O thou, wilt thou tarry and tarry, till I cast thy blood on the guilt?<br /></span> +<span>Lo, I am a King for ever, and alone on the Gold shall I dwell<br /></span> +<span>And do no deed to repent of and leave no tale to tell.'<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"More awful grew his visage as he spake the word of dread,<br /></span> +<span>And no more durst I behold him, but with heart a-cold I fled;<br /></span> +<span>I fled from the glorious house my hands had made so fair,<br /></span> +<span>As poor as the new-born baby with nought of raiment or gear:<br /></span> +<span>I fled from the heaps of gold, and my goods were the eager will,<br /></span> +<span>And the heart that remembereth all, and the hand that may never be still.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Then unto this land I came, and that was long ago.<br /></span> +<span>As men-folk count the years; and I taught them to reap and to sow,<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"And I grew the master of masters—Think thou how strange it is<br /></span> +<span>That the sword in the hands of a stripling shall one day end all this!<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Yet oft mid all my wisdom did I long for my brother's part,<br /></span> +<span>And Fafnir's mighty kingship weighed heavy on my heart<br /></span> +<span>When the Kings of the earthly kingdoms would give me golden gifts<br /></span> +<span>From out of their scanty treasures, due pay for my cunning shifts.<br /></span> +<span>And once—didst thou number the years thou wouldst think it long ago—<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_68'></a>I wandered away to the country from whence our stem did grow.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Then I went to the pillared hall-stead, and lo, huge heaps of gold,<br /></span> +<span>And to and fro amidst them a mighty Serpent rolled:<br /></span> +<span>Then my heart grew chill with terror, for I thought on the wont of our race,<br /></span> +<span>And I, who had lost their cunning, was a man in a deadly place,<br /></span> +<span>A feeble man and a swordless in the lone destroyer's fold;<br /></span> +<span>For I knew that the Worm was Fafnir, the Wallower on the Gold.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"So I gathered my strength and fled, and hid my shame again<br /></span> +<span>Mid the foolish sons of men-folk; and the more my hope was vain,<br /></span> +<span>The more I longed for the Treasure, and deliv'rance from the yoke:<br /></span> +<span>And yet passed the generations, and I dwelt with the short-lived folk.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Long years, and long years after, the tale of men-folk told<br /></span> +<span>How up on the Glittering Heath was the house and the dwelling of gold,<br /></span> +<span>And within that house was the Serpent, and the Lord of the Fearful Face:<br /></span> +<span>Then I wondered sore of the desert; for I thought of the golden place<br /></span> +<span>My hands of old had builded; for I knew by many a sign<br /></span> +<span>That the Fearful Face was my brother, that the blood of the Worm was mine.<br /></span> +<span>This was ages long ago, and yet in that desert he dwells,<br /></span> +<span>Betwixt him and men death lieth, and no man of his semblance tells;<br /></span> +<span>But the tale of the great Gold-wallower is never the more outworn.<br /></span> +<span>Then came thy kin, O Sigurd, and thy father's father was born,<br /></span> +<span>And I fell to the dreaming of dreams, and I saw thine eyes therein,<br /></span> +<span>And I looked and beheld thy glory and all that thy sword should win;<br /></span> +<span>And I thought that thou shouldst be he, who should bring my heart its rest,<br /></span> +<span>That of all the gifts of the Kings thy sword should give me the best.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"<a name='Page_69'></a>Ah, I fell to the dreaming of dreams; and oft the gold I saw,<br /></span> +<span>And the golden-fashioned Hauberk, clean-wrought without a flaw,<br /></span> +<span>And the Helm that aweth the world; and I knew of Fafnir's heart<br /></span> +<span>That his wisdom was greater than mine, because he had held him apart,<br /></span> +<span>Nor spilt on the sons of men-folk our knowledge of ancient days,<br /></span> +<span>Nor bartered one whit for their love, nor craved for the people's praise.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"And some day I shall have it all, his gold and his craft and his heart<br /></span> +<span>And the gathered and garnered wisdom he guards in the mountains apart."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>And he spake: "Hast thou hearkened, Sigurd, wilt thou help a man that is old<br /></span> +<span>To avenge him for his father? Wilt thou win that Treasure of Gold<br /></span> +<span>And be more than the Kings of the earth? Wilt thou rid the earth of a wrong<br /></span> +<span>And heal the woe and the sorrow my heart hath endured o'erlong?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Sigurd looked upon him with steadfast eyes and clear,<br /></span> +<span>And Regin drooped and trembled as he stood the doom to hear:<br /></span> +<span>But the bright child spake as aforetime, and answered the Master and said:<br /></span> +<span>"Thou shalt have thy will, and the Treasure, and take the curse on thine head."<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of the forging of the Sword that is called The Wrath of Sigurd.</i></p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> + +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +<span>But when the morrow was come he went to his mother and spake:<br /></span> +<span>"The shards, the shards of the sword, that thou gleanedst for my sake<br /></span> +<span>In the night on the field of slaughter, in the tide when my father fell,<br /></span> +<span>Hast thou kept them through sorrow and joyance? hast thou warded them trusty and well?<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_70'></a>Where hast thou laid them, my mother?"<br /></span> +<span class='i14'>Then she looked upon him and said:<br /></span> +<span>"Art thou wroth, O Sigurd my son, that such eyes are in thine head?<br /></span> +<span>And wilt thou be wroth with thy mother? do I withstand thee at all?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Nay," said he, "nought am I wrathful, but the days rise up like a wall<br /></span> +<span>Betwixt my soul and the deeds, and I strive to rend them through.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Now give me the sword, my mother, that Sigmund gave thee to keep."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>She said: "I shall give it thee gladly, for fain shall I be of thy praise<br /></span> +<span>When thou knowest my careful keeping of that hope of the earlier days."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So she took his hand in her hand, and they went their ways, they twain;<br /></span> +<span>Till they came to the treasure of queen-folk, the guarded chamber of gain:<br /></span> +<span>They were all alone with its riches, and she turned the key in the gold,<br /></span> +<span>And lifted the sea-born purple, and the silken web unrolled,<br /></span> +<span>And lo, 'twixt her hands and her bosom the shards of Sigmund's sword;<br /></span> +<span>No rust-fleck stained its edges, and the gems of the ocean's hoard<br /></span> +<span>Were as bright in the hilts and glorious, as when in the Volsungs' hall<br /></span> +<span>It shone in the eyes of the earl-folk and flashed from the shielded wall.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But Sigurd smiled upon it, and he said: "O Mother of Kings,<br /></span> +<span>Well hast thou warded the war-glaive for a mirror of many things,<br /></span> +<span>And a hope of much fulfilment: well hast thou given to me<br /></span> +<span>The message of my fathers, and the word of thing to be:<br /></span> +<span>Trusty hath been thy warding, but its hour is over now:<br /></span> +<span>These shards shall be knit together, and shall hear the war-wind blow."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span><a name='Page_71'></a>Then she felt his hands about her as he took the fateful sword,<br /></span> +<span>And he kissed her soft and sweetly; but she answered never a word:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But swift on his ways went Sigurd, and to Regin's house he came,<br /></span> +<span>Where the Master stood in the doorway and behind him leapt the flame,<br /></span> +<span>And dark he looked and little: no more his speech was sweet,<br /></span> +<span>No words on his lip were gathered the Volsung child to greet,<br /></span> +<span>Till he took the sword from Sigurd and the shards of the days of old;<br /></span> +<span>Then he spake:<br /></span> +<span class='i4'>"Will nothing serve thee save this blue steel and cold,<br /></span> +<span>The bane of thy father's father, the fate of all his kin,<br /></span> +<span>The baleful blade I fashioned, the Wrath that the Gods would win?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then answered the eye-bright Sigurd: "If thou thy craft wilt do,<br /></span> +<span>Nought save these battle-gleanings shall be my helper true:"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>So Regin welded together the shards of Sigmund's sword, and wrought the +Wrath of Sigurd, whose hilts were great and along whose edge ran a living +flame so that men thought it like sunlight and lightning mingled. Then +on Greyfell, with the Wrath girt by his side, Sigurd rode to the hall of +Gripir, who told him of deeds to be and of the fate that would befall him. +In no wise was Sigurd troubled, but smiled as a happy child, and together +they talked of the deeds of the kings of the Earth, of the wonders of +Heaven, and of the Queen of the Sea.</p> + +<p>And Sigurd told Gripir that he indeed was wise above all men, but for +himself had the Wrath been fashioned, and he was ready to ride to the +Glittering Heath. So they took leave of one another, and as the sky grew +blood-red in the West, and the birds were flying homeward, Sigurd drew +near to Regin's dwelling.</p> +<br /> + +<p><a name='Page_72'></a><i>Sigurd rideth to the Glittering Heath.</i></p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>Again on the morrow morning doth Sigurd the Volsung ride,<br /></span> +<span>And Regin, the Master of Masters, is faring by his side,<br /></span> +<span>And they leave the dwelling of kings and ride the summer land,<br /></span> +<span>Until at the eve of the day the hills are on either hand;<br /></span> +<span>Then they wend up higher and higher, and over the heaths they fare<br /></span> +<span>Till the moon shines broad on the midnight, and they sleep 'neath the heavens bare;<br /></span> +<span>And they waken and look behind them, and lo, the dawning of day<br /></span> +<span>And the little land of the Helper and its valleys far away;<br /></span> +<span>But the mountains rise before them, a wall exceeding great.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then spake the Master of Masters: "We have come to the garth and the gate;<br /></span> +<span>There is youth and rest behind thee and many a thing to do,<br /></span> +<span>There is many a fond desire, and each day born anew;<br /></span> +<span>And the land of the Volsungs to conquer, and many a people's praise:<br /></span> +<span>And for me there is rest it may be, and the peaceful end of days.<br /></span> +<span>We have come to the garth and the gate; to the hall-door now shall we win,<br /></span> +<span>Shall we go to look on the high-seat and see what sitteth therein?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Yea, and what else?" said Sigurd, "was thy tale but mockeries,<br /></span> +<span>And have I been drifted hither on a wind of empty lies?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"It was sooth, it was sooth," said Regin, "and more might I have told<br /></span> +<span>Had I heart and space to remember the deeds of the days of old."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Day-long they fared through the mountains, and that highway's fashioner,<br /></span> +<span>Forsooth, was a fearful craftsman, and his hands the waters were,<br /></span> +<span>And the heaped-up ice was his mattock, and the fire-blast was his man,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_73'></a>And never a whit he heeded though his walls were waste and wan,<br /></span> +<span>And the guest-halls of that wayside great heaps of the ashes spent.<br /></span> +<span>But, each as a man alone, through the sun-bright day they went,<br /></span> +<span>And they rode till the moon rose upward, and the stars were small and fair,<br /></span> +<span>Then they slept on the long-slaked ashes beneath the heavens bare;<br /></span> +<span>And the cold dawn came and they wakened, and the King of the Dwarf-kind seemed<br /></span> +<span>As a thing of that wan land fashioned; but Sigurd glowed and gleamed<br /></span> +<span>Amid a shadowless twilight by Greyfell's cloudy flank,<br /></span> +<span>As a little space they abided while the latest star-world shrank;<br /></span> +<span>On the backward road looked Regin and heard how Sigurd drew<br /></span> +<span>The girths of Greyfell's saddle, and the voice of his sword he knew,<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>And his war-gear clanged and tinkled as he leapt to the saddle-stead:<br /></span> +<span>And the sun rose up at their backs and the grey world changed to red,<br /></span> +<span>And away to the west went Sigurd by the glory wreathed about,<br /></span> +<span>But little and black was Regin as a fire that dieth out.<br /></span> +<span>Day-long they rode the mountains by the crags exceeding old,<br /></span> +<span>And the ash that the first of the Dwarf-kind found dull and quenched and cold.<br /></span> +<span>Then the moon in the mid-sky swam, and the stars were fair and pale,<br /></span> +<span>And beneath the naked heaven they slept in an ash-grey dale;<br /></span> +<span>And again at the dawn-dusk's ending they stood upon their feet,<br /></span> +<span>And Sigurd donned his war-gear nor his eyes would Regin meet.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>A clear streak widened in heaven low down above the earth;<br /></span> +<span>And above it lay the cloud-flecks, and the sun, anigh its birth,<br /></span> +<span>Unseen, their hosts was staining with the very hue of blood,<br /></span> +<span>And ruddy by Greyfell's shoulder the Son of Sigmund stood.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then spake the Master of Masters: "What is thine hope this morn<br /></span> +<span>That thou dightest thee, O Sigurd, to ride this world forlorn?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"What needeth hope," said Sigurd, "when the heart of the Volsungs turns<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_74'></a>To the light of the Glittering Heath, and the house where the Waster burns?<br /></span> +<span>I shall slay the Foe of the Gods, as thou badst me a while agone,<br /></span> +<span>And then with the Gold and its wisdom shalt thou be left alone."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"O Child," said the King of the Dwarf-kind, "when the day at last comes round<br /></span> +<span>For the dread and the Dusk of the Gods, and the kin of the Wolf is unbound,<br /></span> +<span>When thy sword shall hew the fire, and the wildfire beateth thy shield,<br /></span> +<span>Shalt thou praise the wages of hope and the Gods that pitched the field?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"O Foe of the Gods," said Sigurd, "wouldst thou hide the evil thing,<br /></span> +<span>And the curse that is greater than thou, lest death end thy labouring,<br /></span> +<span>Lest the night should come upon thee amidst thy toil for nought?<br /></span> +<span>It is me, it is me that thou fearest, if indeed I know thy thought;<br /></span> +<span>Yea me, who would utterly light the face of all good and ill,<br /></span> +<span>If not with the fruitful beams that the summer shall fulfill,<br /></span> +<span>Then at least with the world a-blazing, and the glare of the grinded sword.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"I have hearkened not nor heeded the words of thy fear and thy ruth:<br /></span> +<span>Thou hast told thy tale and thy longing, and thereto I hearkened well:—<br /></span> +<span>Let it lead thee up to heaven, let it lead thee down to hell,<br /></span> +<span>The deed shall be done tomorrow: thou shalt have that measureless Gold,<br /></span> +<span>And devour the garnered wisdom that blessed thy realm of old,<br /></span> +<span>That hath lain unspent and begrudged in the very heart of hate:<br /></span> +<span>With the blood and the might of thy brother thine hunger shalt thou sate;<br /></span> +<span>And this deed shall be mine and thine; but take heed for what followeth then!<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_75'></a>Let each do after his kind! I shall do the deeds of men;<br /></span> +<span>I shall harvest the field of their sowing, in the bed of their strewing shall sleep;<br /></span> +<span>To them shall I give my life-days, to the Gods my glory to keep.<br /></span> +<span>But them with the wealth and the wisdom that the best of the Gods might praise,<br /></span> +<span>If thou shall indeed excel them and become the hope of the days,<br /></span> +<span>Then me in turn hast thou conquered, and I shall be in turn<br /></span> +<span>Thy fashioned brand of the battle through good and evil to burn,<br /></span> +<span>Or the flame that sleeps in thy stithy for the gathered winds to blow,<br /></span> +<span>When thou listest to do and undo and thine uttermost cunning to show.<br /></span> +<span>But indeed I wot full surely that thou shalt follow thy kind;<br /></span> +<span>And for all that cometh after, the Norns shall loose and bind."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then his bridle-reins rang sweetly, and the warding-walls of death,<br /></span> +<span>And Regin drew up to him, and the Wrath sang loud in the sheath,<br /></span> +<span>And forth from that trench in the mountains by the westward way they ride;<br /></span> +<span>And little and black goes Regin by the golden Volsung's side;<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So ever they wended upward, and the midnight hour was o'er,<br /></span> +<span>And the stars grew pale and paler, and failed from the heaven's floor,<br /></span> +<span>And the moon was a long while dead, but where was the promise of day?<br /></span> +<span>No change came over the darkness, no streak of the dawning grey;<br /></span> +<span>No sound of the wind's uprising adown the night there ran:<br /></span> +<span>It was blind as the Gaping Gulf ere the first of the worlds began.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then athwart and athwart rode Sigurd and sought the walls of the pass,<br /></span> +<span>But found no wall before him; and the road rang hard as brass<br /></span> +<span>Beneath the hoofs of Greyfell, as up and up he trod:<br /></span> +<span>—Was it the daylight of Hell, or the night of the doorway of God?<br /></span> +<span>But lo, at the last a glimmer, and a light from the west there came,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_76'></a>And another and another, like points of far-off flame;<br /></span> +<span>And they grew and brightened and gathered; and whiles together they ran<br /></span> +<span>Like the moonwake over the waters; and whiles they were scant and wan,<br /></span> +<span>Some greater and some lesser, like the boats of fishers laid<br /></span> +<span>About the sea of midnight; and a dusky dawn they made,<br /></span> +<span>A faint and glimmering twilight: So Sigurd strains his eyes,<br /></span> +<span>And he sees how a land deserted all round about him lies<br /></span> +<span>More changeless than mid-ocean, as fruitless as its floor:<br /></span> +<span>Then the heart leaps up within him, for he knows that his journey is o'er,<br /></span> +<span>And there he draweth bridle on the first of the Glittering Heath:<br /></span> +<span>And the Wrath is waxen merry and sings in the golden sheath<br /></span> +<span>As he leaps adown from Greyfell, and stands upon his feet,<br /></span> +<span>And wends his ways through the twilight the Foe of the Gods to meet.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p><i>Sigurd slayeth Fafnir the Serpent.</i></p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>Nought Sigurd seeth of Regin, and nought he heeds of him,<br /></span> +<span>As in watchful might and glory he strides the desert dim,<br /></span> +<span>And behind him paceth Greyfell; but he deems the time o'erlong<br /></span> +<span>Till he meet the great gold-warden, the over-lord of wrong.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So he wendeth midst the silence through the measureless desert place,<br /></span> +<span>And beholds the countless glitter with wise and steadfast face,<br /></span> +<span>Till him-seems in a little season that the flames grown somewhat wan,<br /></span> +<span>And a grey thing glimmers before him, and becomes a mighty man,<br /></span> +<span>One-eyed and ancient-seeming, in cloud-grey raiment clad;<br /></span> +<span>A friendly man and glorious, and of visage smiling-glad:<br /></span> +<span>Then content in Sigurd groweth because of his majesty,<br /></span> +<span>And he heareth him speak in the desert as the wind of the winter sea:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Hail Sigurd! Give me thy greeting ere thy ways alone thou wend!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span><a name='Page_77'></a>Said Sigurd: "Hail! I greet thee, my friend and my fathers' friend."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Now whither away," said the elder, "with the Steed and the ancient Sword?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"To the greedy house," said Sigurd, "and the King of the Heavy Hoard."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Wilt thou smite, O Sigurd, Sigurd?" said the ancient mighty-one.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Yea, yea, I shall smite," said the Volsung, "save the Gods have slain the sun."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"What wise wilt thou smite," said the elder, "lest the dark devour thy day?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Thou hast praised the sword," said the child, "and the sword shall find a way."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Be learned of me," said the Wise-one, "for I was the first of thy folk."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Said the child: "I shall do thy bidding, and for thee shall I strike the stroke."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Spake the Wise-one: "Thus shalt thou do when thou wendest hence alone:<br /></span> +<span>Thou shalt find a path in the desert, and a road in the world of stone;<br /></span> +<span>It is smooth and deep and hollow, but the rain hath riven it not,<br /></span> +<span>And the wild wind hath not worn it, for it is but Fafnir's slot,<br /></span> +<span>Whereby he wends to the water and the fathomless pool of old,<br /></span> +<span>When his heart in the dawn is weary, and he loathes the ancient Gold:<br /></span> +<span>There think of the great and the fathers, and bare the whetted Wrath,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_78'></a>And dig a pit in the highway, and a grave in the Serpent's path:<br /></span> +<span>Lie thou therein, O Sigurd, and thine hope from the glooming hide,<br /></span> +<span>And be as the dead for a season, and the living light abide!<br /></span> +<span>And so shall thine heart avail thee, and thy mighty fateful hand,<br /></span> +<span>And the Light that lay in the Branstock, the well-belovèd brand."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Said the child: "I shall do thy bidding, and for thee shall I strike the stroke;<br /></span> +<span>For I love thee, friend of my fathers, Wise Heart of the holy folk."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So spake the Son of Sigmund, and beheld no man anear,<br /></span> +<span>And again was the night the midnight, and the twinkling flame shone clear<br /></span> +<span>In the hush of the Glittering Heath; and alone went Sigmund's son<br /></span> +<span>Till he came to the road of Fafnir, and the highway worn by one,<br /></span> +<span>By the drift of the rain unfurrowed, by the windy years unrent,<br /></span> +<span>And forth from the dark it came, and into the dark it went.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Great then was the heart of Sigurd, for there in the midmost he stayed,<br /></span> +<span>And thought of the ancient fathers, and bared the bright blue blade,<br /></span> +<span>That shone as a fleck of the day-light, and the night was all around.<br /></span> +<span>Fair then was the Son of Sigmund as he toiled and laboured the ground;<br /></span> +<span>Great, mighty he was in his working, and the Glittering Heath he clave,<br /></span> +<span>And the sword shone blue before him as he dug the pit and the grave:<br /></span> +<span>There he hid his hope from the night-tide and lay like one of the dead,<br /></span> +<span>And wise and wary he bided; and the heavens hung over his head.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now the night wanes over Sigurd, and the ruddy rings he sees,<br /></span> +<span>And his war-gear's fair adornment, and the God-folk's images;<br /></span> +<span>But a voice in the desert ariseth, a sound in the waste has birth,<br /></span> +<span>A changing tinkle and clatter, as of gold dragged over the earth:<br /></span> +<span>O'er Sigurd widens the day-light, and the sound is drawing close,<br /></span> +<span>And speedier than the trample of speedy feet it goes;<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_79'></a>But ever deemeth Sigurd that the sun brings back the day,<br /></span> +<span>For the grave grows lighter and lighter and heaven o'erhead is grey.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But now, how the rattling waxeth till he may not heed nor hark!<br /></span> +<span>And the day and the heavens are hidden, and o'er Sigurd rolls the dark,<br /></span> +<span>As the flood of a pitchy river, and heavy-thick is the air<br /></span> +<span>With the venom of hate long hoarded, and lies once fashioned fair:<br /></span> +<span>Then a wan face comes from the darkness, and is wrought in man-like wise,<br /></span> +<span>And the lips are writhed with laughter and bleared are the blinded eyes;<br /></span> +<span>And it wandereth hither and thither, and searcheth through the grave<br /></span> +<span>And departeth, leaving nothing, save the dark, rolled wave on wave<br /></span> +<span>O'er the golden head of Sigurd and the edges of the sword,<br /></span> +<span>And the world weighs heavy on Sigurd, and the weary curse of the Hoard;<br /></span> +<span>Him-seemed the grave grew straiter, and his hope of life grew chill,<br /></span> +<span>And his heart by the Worm was enfolded, and the bonds of the Ancient Ill.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then was Sigurd stirred by his glory, and he strove with the swaddling of Death;<br /></span> +<span>He turned in the pit on the highway, and the grave of the Glittering Heath;<br /></span> +<span>He laughed and smote with the laughter and thrust up over his head.<br /></span> +<span>And smote the venom asunder and clave the heart of Dread;<br /></span> +<span>Then he leapt from the pit and the grave, and the rushing river of blood,<br /></span> +<span>And fulfilled with the joy of the War-God on the face of earth he stood<br /></span> +<span>With red sword high uplifted, with wrathful glittering eyes;<br /></span> +<span>And he laughed at the heavens above him for he saw the sun arise,<br /></span> +<span>And Sigurd gleamed on the desert, and shone in the new-born light,<br /></span> +<span>And the wind in his raiment wavered, and all the world was bright.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span><a name='Page_80'></a>But there was the ancient Fafnir, and the Face of Terror lay<br /></span> +<span>On the huddled folds of the Serpent, that were black and ashen-grey<br /></span> +<span>In the desert lit by the sun; and those twain looked each on each,<br /></span> +<span>And forth from the Face of Terror went a sound of dreadful speech:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Child, child, who art thou that hast smitten? bright child, of whence is thy birth?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"I am called the Wild-thing Glorious, and alone I wend on the earth."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"What master hath taught thee of murder?—Thou hast wasted Fafnir's day."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"I, Sigurd, knew and desired, and the bright sword learned the way."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"I am blind, O Strong Compeller, in the bonds of Death and Hell.<br /></span> +<span>But thee shall the rattling Gold and the red rings bring unto bane."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Yet the rings mine hand shall scatter, and the earth shall gather again."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Woe, woe! in the days passed over I bore the Helm of Dread,<br /></span> +<span>I reared the Face of Terror, and the hoarded hate of the Dead:<br /></span> +<span>I overcame and was mighty; I was wise and cherished my heart<br /></span> +<span>In the waste where no man wandered, and the high house builded apart:<br /></span> +<span>Till I met thine hand, O Sigurd, and thy might ordained from of old;<br /></span> +<span>And I fought and fell in the morning, and I die far off from the Gold."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then all sank into silence, and the Son of Sigmund stood<br /></span> +<span>On the torn and furrowed desert by the pool of Fafnir's blood,<br /></span> +<span>And the Serpent lay before him, dead, chilly, dull, and grey;<br /></span> +<span>And over the Glittering Heath fair shone the sun and the day,<br /></span> +<span>And a light wind followed the sun and breathed o'er the fateful place,<br /></span> +<span>As fresh as it furrows the sea-plain or bows the acres' face.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p><a name='Page_81'></a><i>Sigurd slayeth Regin the Master of Masters on the Glittering Heath.</i></p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>There standeth Sigurd the Volsung, and leaneth on his sword,<br /></span> +<span>And beside him now is Greyfell and looks on his golden lord,<br /></span> +<span>And the world is awake and living; and whither now shall they wend,<br /></span> +<span>Who have come to the Glittering Heath, and wrought that deed to its end?<br /></span> +<span>For hither comes Regin the Master from the skirts of the field of death.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Afoot he went o'er the desert, and he came unto Sigurd and stared<br /></span> +<span>At the golden gear of the man, and the Wrath yet bloody and bared,<br /></span> +<span>And the light locks raised by the wind, and the eyes beginning to smile,<br /></span> +<span>And the lovely lips of the Volsung, and the brow that knew no guile;<br /></span> +<span>And he murmured under his breath while his eyes grew white with wrath:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"O who art thou, and wherefore, and why art thou in the path?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then he turned to the ash-grey Serpent, and grovelled low on the ground,<br /></span> +<span>And he drank of that pool of the blood where the stones of the wild were drowned,<br /></span> +<span>And long he lapped as a dog; but when he arose again,<br /></span> +<span>Lo, a flock of the mountain-eagles that drew to the feastful plain;<br /></span> +<span>And he turned and looked on Sigurd, as bright in the sun he stood,<br /></span> +<span>A stripling fair and slender, and wiped the Wrath of the blood.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then he scowled and crouched and darkened, and came to Sigurd and spake:<br /></span> +<span>"O child, thou hast slain my brother, and the Wrath is alive and awake."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"<a name='Page_82'></a>Thou sayest sooth," said Sigurd, "thy deed and mine is done:<br /></span> +<span>But now our ways shall sunder, for here, meseemeth, the sun<br /></span> +<span>Hath but little of deeds to do, and no love to win aback."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But Regin darkened before him, and exceeding grim was he grown,<br /></span> +<span>And he spake: "Thou hast slain my brother, and wherewith wilt thou atone?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Stand up, O Master," said Sigurd, "O Singer of ancient days,<br /></span> +<span>And take the wealth I have won thee, ere we wend on the sundering ways.<br /></span> +<span>I have toiled and thou hast desired, and the Treasure is surely anear,<br /></span> +<span>And thou hast wisdom to find it, and I have slain thy fear."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But Regin crouched and darkened: "Thou hast slain my brother," he said.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Take thou the Gold," quoth Sigurd, "for the ransom of my head!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Regin crouched and darkened, and over the earth he hung;<br /></span> +<span>And he said: "Thou hast slain my brother, and the Gods are yet but young."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>And he spake: "Thou hast slain my brother, and today shall thou be my thrall:<br /></span> +<span>Yea, a King shall be my cook-boy and this heath my cooking-hall."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then he crept to the ash-grey coils where the life of his brother had lain,<br /></span> +<span>And he drew a glaive from his side and smote the smitten and slain,<br /></span> +<span>And tore the heart from Fafnir, while the eagles cried o'erhead,<br /></span> +<span>And sharp and shrill was their voice o'er the entrails of the dead.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Regin spake to Sigurd: "Of this slaying wilt thou be free?<br /></span> +<span>Then gather thou fire together and roast the heart for me,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_83'></a>That I may eat it and live, and be thy master and more;<br /></span> +<span>For therein was might and wisdom, and the grudged and hoarded lore:—<br /></span> +<span>—Or else, depart on thy ways afraid from the Glittering Heath."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then he fell abackward and slept, nor set his sword in the sheath.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But Sigurd took the Heart, and wood on the waste he found,<br /></span> +<span>The wood that grew and died, as it crept on the niggard ground,<br /></span> +<span>And grew and died again, and lay like whitened bones;<br /></span> +<span>And the ernes cried over his head, as he builded his hearth of stones,<br /></span> +<span>And kindled the fire for cooking, and sat and sang o'er the roast<br /></span> +<span>The song of his fathers of old, and the Wolflings' gathering host:<br /></span> +<span>So there on the Glittering Heath rose up the little flame,<br /></span> +<span>And the dry sticks crackled amidst it, and alow the eagles came,<br /></span> +<span>And seven they were by tale, and they pitched all round about<br /></span> +<span>The cooking-fire of Sigurd, and sent their song-speech out:<br /></span> +<span>But nought he knoweth its wisdom, or the word that they would speak:<br /></span> +<span>And hot grew the Heart of Fafnir and sang amid the reek.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Sigurd looketh on Regin, and he deemeth it overlong<br /></span> +<span>That he dighteth the dear-bought morsel, and the might for the Master of wrong,<br /></span> +<span>So he reacheth his hand to the roast to see if the cooking be o'er;<br /></span> +<span>But the blood and the fat seethed from it and scalded his finger sore,<br /></span> +<span>And he set his hand to his mouth to quench the fleshly smart,<br /></span> +<span>And he tasted the flesh of the Serpent and the blood of Fafnir's Heart:<br /></span> +<span>Then there came a change upon him, for the speech of fowl he knew,<br /></span> +<span>And wise in the ways of the beast-kind as the Dwarfs of old he grew;<br /></span> +<span>And he knitted his brows and hearkened, and wrath in his heart arose<br /></span> +<span>For he felt beset of evil in a world of many foes.<br /></span> +<span>But the hilts of the Wrath he handled, and Regin's heart he saw,<br /></span> +<span>And how that the Foe of the Gods the net of death would draw;<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_84'></a>And his bright eyes flashed and sparkled, and his mouth grew set and stern<br /></span> +<span>As he hearkened the voice of the eagles, and their song began to learn.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And six of the eagles cried to Sigurd not to tarry before the feast, and +they urged him to kill Regin, who had planned Fafnir's death that he alone +might live and fashion the world after his evil will.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>And the seventh: "Arise, O Sigurd, lest the hour be overlate!<br /></span> +<span>For the sun in the mid-noon shineth, and swift is the hand of Fate:<br /></span> +<span>Arise! lest the world run backward and the blind heart have its will,<br /></span> +<span>And once again be tangled the sundered good and ill;<br /></span> +<span>Lest love and hatred perish, lest the world forget its tale,<br /></span> +<span>And the Gods sit deedless, dreaming, in the high-walled heavenly vale."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then swift ariseth Sigurd, and the Wrath in his hand is bare,<br /></span> +<span>And he looketh, and Regin sleepeth, and his eyes wide-open glare;<br /></span> +<span>But his lips smile false in his dreaming, and his hand is on the sword;<br /></span> +<span>For he dreams himself the Master and the new world's fashioning-lord,<br /></span> +<span>And his dream hath forgotten Sigurd, and the King's life lies in the pit;<br /></span> +<span>He is nought; Death gnaweth upon him, while the Dwarfs in mastery sit.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But lo, how the eyes of Sigurd the heart of the guileful behold,<br /></span> +<span>And great is Allfather Odin, and upriseth the Curse of the Gold,<br /></span> +<span>And the Branstock bloometh to heaven from the ancient wondrous root;<br /></span> +<span>The summer hath shone on its blossoms, and Sigurd's Wrath is the fruit.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then his second stroke struck Sigurd, for the Wrath flashed thin and white,<br /></span> +<span>And 'twixt head and trunk of Regin fierce ran the fateful light;<br /></span> +<span>And there lay brother by brother a faded thing and wan.<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_85'></a>But Sigurd cried in the desert: "So far have I wended on!<br /></span> +<span>Dead are the foes of God-home that would blend the good and the ill;<br /></span> +<span>And the World shall yet be famous, and the Gods shall have their will.<br /></span> +<span>Nor shall I be dead and forgotten, while the earth grows worse and worse,<br /></span> +<span>With the blind heart king o'er the people, and binding curse with curse."<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p><i>How Sigurd took to him the Treasure of the Elf Andvari.</i></p> + +<p>So Sigurd ate of the heart of Fafnir, and as he ate the longing to be gone +to mighty deeds grew great, and he leapt on Greyfell and sought the home +of the Dweller amid the Gold on the edge of the heath. He strode through +the doorway, and before him lay golden armour, golden coins, and golden +sands from rivers that none but the Dwarfs could mine. But more wonderful +than all other treasures were the Helm of Aweing, and the Hauberk all of +gold, while on top of the midmost heap, gleaming like the brightest star +in the sky, lay the ring of Andvari.</p> + +<p>Sigurd put on the helm and the hauberk, and dragged out gold wherewith he +loaded Greyfell till the cloud-grey horse shone, while the eagles ever +bade him bring forth the treasure, and let the gold shine in the open. +And as the stars paled and the dawn grew clearer, Sigurd and Greyfell +passed swiftly and lightly towards the west.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>How Sigurd awoke Brynhild upon Hindfell.</i></p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>By long roads rideth Sigurd amidst that world of stone,<br /></span> +<span>And somewhat south he turneth; for he would not be alone,<br /></span> +<span>But longs for the dwellings of man-folk, and the kingly people's speech,<br /></span> +<span>And the days of the glee and the joyance, where men laugh each to each.<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_86'></a>But still the desert endureth, and afar must Greyfell fare<br /></span> +<span>From the wrack of the Glittering Heath, and Fafnir's golden lair.<br /></span> +<span>Long Sigurd rideth the waste, when, lo, on a morning of day<br /></span> +<span>From out of the tangled crag-walls, amidst the cloud-land grey<br /></span> +<span>Comes up a mighty mountain, and it is as though there burns<br /></span> +<span>A torch amidst of its cloud-wreath; so thither Sigurd turns,<br /></span> +<span>For he deems indeed from its topmost to look on the best of the earth;<br /></span> +<span>And Greyfell neigheth beneath him, and his heart is full of mirth.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Night falls, but yet rides Sigurd, and hath no thought of rest,<br /></span> +<span>For he longs to climb that rock-world and behold the earth at its best;<br /></span> +<span>But now mid the maze of the foot-hills he seeth the light no more,<br /></span> +<span>And the stars are lovely and gleaming on the lightless heavenly floor.<br /></span> +<span>So up and up he wendeth till the night is wearing thin;<br /></span> +<span>And he rideth a rift of the mountain, and all is dark therein,<br /></span> +<span>Till the stars are dimmed by dawning and the wakening world is cold;<br /></span> +<span>Then afar in the upper rock-wall a breach doth he behold,<br /></span> +<span>And a flood of light poured inward the doubtful dawning blinds:<br /></span> +<span>So swift he rideth thither and the mouth of the breach he finds,<br /></span> +<span>And sitteth awhile on Greyfell on the marvellous thing to gaze:<br /></span> +<span>For lo, the side of Hindfell enwrapped by the fervent blaze,<br /></span> +<span>And nought 'twixt earth and heaven save a world of flickering flame,<br /></span> +<span>And a hurrying shifting tangle, where the dark rents went and came.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Great groweth the heart of Sigurd with uttermost desire,<br /></span> +<span>And he crieth kind to Greyfell, and they hasten up, and nigher,<br /></span> +<span>Till he draweth rein in the dawning on the face of Hindfell's steep:<br /></span> +<span>But who shall heed the dawning where the tongues of that wildfire leap?<br /></span> +<span>For they weave a wavering wall, that driveth over the heaven<br /></span> +<span>The wind that is born within it; nor ever aside is it driven<br /></span> +<span>By the mightiest wind of the waste, and the rain-flood amidst it is nought;<br /></span> +<span>And no wayfarer's door and no window the hand of its builder hath wrought.<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_87'></a>But thereon is the Volsung smiling as its breath uplifteth his hair,<br /></span> +<span>And his eyes shine bright with its image, and his mail gleams white and fair,<br /></span> +<span>And his war-helm pictures the heavens and the waning stars behind:<br /></span> +<span>But his neck is Greyfell stretching to snuff at the flame-wall blind,<br /></span> +<span>And his cloudy flank upheaveth, and tinkleth the knitted mail,<br /></span> +<span>And the gold of the uttermost waters is waxen wan and pale.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now Sigurd turns in his saddle, and the hilt of the Wrath he shifts,<br /></span> +<span>And draws a girth the tighter; then the gathered reins he lifts,<br /></span> +<span>And crieth aloud to Greyfell, and rides at the wildfire's heart;<br /></span> +<span>But the white wall wavers before him and the flame-flood rusheth apart,<br /></span> +<span>And high o'er his head it riseth, and wide and wild is its roar<br /></span> +<span>As it beareth the mighty tidings to the very heavenly floor:<br /></span> +<span>But he rideth through its roaring as the warrior rides the rye,<br /></span> +<span>When it bows with the wind of the summer and the hid spears draw anigh.<br /></span> +<span>The white flame licks his raiment and sweeps through Greyfell's mane,<br /></span> +<span>And bathes both hands of Sigurd and the hilts of Fafnir's bane,<br /></span> +<span>And winds about his war-helm and mingles with his hair,<br /></span> +<span>But nought his raiment dusketh or dims his glittering gear;<br /></span> +<span>Then it fails and fades and darkens till all seems left behind,<br /></span> +<span>And dawn and the blaze is swallowed in mid-mirk stark and blind.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But forth a little further and a little further on<br /></span> +<span>And all is calm about him, and he sees the scorched earth wan<br /></span> +<span>Beneath a glimmering twilight, and he turns his conquering eyes,<br /></span> +<span>And a ring of pale slaked ashes on the side of Hindfell lies;<br /></span> +<span>And the world of the waste is beyond it; and all is hushed and grey,<br /></span> +<span>And the new-risen moon is a-paleing, and the stars grow faint with day.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Sigurd looked before him and a Shield-burg there he saw,<br /></span> +<span>A wall of the tiles of Odin wrought clear without a flaw,<br /></span> +<span>The gold by the silver gleaming, and the ruddy by the white;<br /></span> +<span>And the blazonings of their glory were done upon them bright.<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_88'></a>As of dear things wrought for the war-lords new come to Odin's hall.<br /></span> +<span>Piled high aloft to the heavens uprose that battle-wall,<br /></span> +<span>And far o'er the topmost shield-rim for a banner of fame there hung<br /></span> +<span>A glorious golden buckler; and against the staff it rung<br /></span> +<span>As the earliest wind of dawning uprose on Hindfell's face<br /></span> +<span>And the light from the yellow east beamed soft on the shielded place.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But the Wrath cried out in answer as Sigurd leapt adown<br /></span> +<span>To the wasted soil of the desert by that rampart of renown;<br /></span> +<span>He looked but little beneath it, and the dwelling of God it seemed,<br /></span> +<span>As against its gleaming silence the eager Sigurd gleamed:<br /></span> +<span>He draweth not sword from scabbard, as the wall he wendeth around,<br /></span> +<span>And it is but the wind and Sigurd that wakeneth any sound:<br /></span> +<span>But, lo, to the gate he cometh, and the doors are open wide,<br /></span> +<span>And no warder the way withstandeth, and no earls by the threshold abide.<br /></span> +<span>So he stands awhile and marvels; then the baleful light of the Wrath<br /></span> +<span>Gleams bare in his ready hand as he wendeth the inward path:<br /></span> +<span>For he doubteth some guile of the Gods, or perchance some Dwarf-king's snare,<br /></span> +<span>Or a mock of the Giant people that shall fade in the morning air:<br /></span> +<span>But he getteth him in and gazeth; and a wall doth he behold,<br /></span> +<span>And the ruddy set by the white, and the silver by the gold;<br /></span> +<span>But within the garth that it girdeth no work of man is set,<br /></span> +<span>But the utmost head of Hindfell ariseth higher yet;<br /></span> +<span>And below in the very midmost is a Giant-fashioned mound,<br /></span> +<span>Piled high as the rims of the Shield-burg above the level ground;<br /></span> +<span>And there, on that mound of the Giants, o'er the wilderness forlorn,<br /></span> +<span>A pale grey image lieth, and gleameth in the morn.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So there was Sigurd alone; and he went from the shielded door,<br /></span> +<span>And aloft in the desert of wonder the Light of the Branstock he bore;<br /></span> +<span>And he set his face to the earth-mound, and beheld the image wan,<br /></span> +<span>And the dawn was growing about it; and, lo, the shape of a man<br /></span> +<span>Set forth to the eyeless desert on the tower-top of the world,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_89'></a>High over the cloud-wrought castle whence the windy bolts are hurled.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now over the body he standeth, and seeth it shapen fair,<br /></span> +<span>And clad from head to foot-sole in pale grey-glittering gear,<br /></span> +<span>In a hauberk wrought as straitly as though to the flesh it were grown:<br /></span> +<span>But a great helm hideth the head and is girt with a glittering crown.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So thereby he stoopeth and kneeleth, for he deems it were good indeed<br /></span> +<span>If the breath of life abide there and the speech to help at need;<br /></span> +<span>And as sweet as the summer wind from a garden under the sun<br /></span> +<span>Cometh forth on the topmost Hindfell the breath of that sleeping-one.<br /></span> +<span>Then he saith he will look on the face, if it bear him love or hate,<br /></span> +<span>Or the bonds for his life's constraining, or the sundering doom of fate.<br /></span> +<span>So he draweth the helm from the head, and, lo, the brow snow-white,<br /></span> +<span>And the smooth unfurrowed cheeks, and the wise lips breathing light;<br /></span> +<span>And the face of a woman it is, and the fairest that ever was born,<br /></span> +<span>Shown forth to the empty heavens and the desert world forlorn:<br /></span> +<span>But he looketh, and loveth her sore, and he longeth her spirit to move,<br /></span> +<span>And awaken her heart to the world, that she may behold him and love.<br /></span> +<span>And he toucheth her breast and her hands, and he loveth her passing sore.<br /></span> +<span>And he saith: "Awake! I am Sigurd;" but she moveth never the more.<br /></span> +<span>Then he looked on his bare bright blade, and he said: "Thou—what wilt thou do?<br /></span> +<span>For indeed as I came by the war-garth thy voice of desire I knew."<br /></span> +<span>Bright burnt the pale blue edges for the sunrise drew anear,<br /></span> +<span>And the rims of the Shield-burg glittered, and the east was exceeding clear:<br /></span> +<span>So the eager edges he setteth to the Dwarf-wrought battle-coat<br /></span><a name='Page_90'></a> +<span>Where the hammered ring-knit collar constraineth the woman's throat;<br /></span> +<span>But the sharp Wrath biteth and rendeth, and before it fail the rings,<br /></span> +<span>And, lo, the gleam of the linen, and the light of golden things:<br /></span> +<span>Then he driveth the blue steel onward, and through the skirt, and out,<br /></span> +<span>Till nought but the rippling linen is wrapping her about;<br /></span> +<span>Then he deems her breath comes quicker and her breast begins to heave,<br /></span> +<span>So he turns about the War-Flame and rends down either sleeve,<br /></span> +<span>Till her arms lie white in her raiment, and a river of sun-bright hair<br /></span> +<span>Flows free o'er bosom and shoulder and floods the desert bare.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then a flush cometh over her visage and a sigh up-heaveth her breast,<br /></span> +<span>And her eyelids quiver and open, and she wakeneth into rest;<br /></span> +<span>Wide-eyed on the dawning she gazeth, too glad to change or smile,<br /></span> +<span>And but little moveth her body, nor speaketh she yet for a while;<br /></span> +<span>And yet kneels Sigurd moveless her wakening speech to heed,<br /></span> +<span>While soft the waves of the daylight o'er the starless heavens speed,<br /></span> +<span>And the gleaming rims of the Shield-burg yet bright and brighter grow,<br /></span> +<span>And the thin moon hangeth her horns dead-white in the golden glow.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then she turned and gazed on Sigurd, and her eyes met the Volsung's eyes.<br /></span> +<span>And mighty and measureless now did the tide of his love arise,<br /></span> +<span>For their longing had met and mingled, and he knew of her heart that she loved,<br /></span> +<span>As she spake unto nothing but him and her lips with the speech-flood moved:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"O, what is the thing so mighty that my weary sleep hath torn,<br /></span> +<span>And rent the fallow bondage, and the wan woe over-worn?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>He said: "The hand of Sigurd and the Sword of Sigmund's son,<br /></span> +<span>And the heart that the Volsungs fashioned this deed for thee have done."<br /></span><a name='Page_91'></a> +<span>But she said: "Where then is Odin that laid me here alow?<br /></span> +<span>Long lasteth the grief of the world, and manfolk's tangled woe!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"He dwelleth above," said Sigurd, "but I on the earth abide,<br /></span> +<span>And I came from the Glittering Heath the waves of thy fire to ride."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Sigurd looketh upon her, and the words from his heart arise:<br /></span> +<span>"Thou art the fairest of earth, and the wisest of the wise;<br /></span> +<span>O who art thou that lovest? I am Sigurd, e'en as I told;<br /></span> +<span>I have slain the Foe of the Gods, and gotten the Ancient Gold;<br /></span> +<span>And great were the gain of thy love, and the gift of mine earthly days,<br /></span> +<span>If we twain should never sunder as we wend on the changing ways.<br /></span> +<span>O who art thou that lovest, thou fairest of all things born?<br /></span> +<span>And what meaneth thy sleep and thy slumber in the wilderness forlorn?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then the maiden told him that she had been the handmaid of the +All-father, but that she grew too proud, and Odin had sent her to +Hindfell, where the sleep thorn pierced her that she might sleep till +she found the fearless heart she would wed. Such a one had she found +now, and many were the words of prophetic wisdom and warning that +fell from her lips on the ears of Sigurd.</p> + +<p>But many though they were they were not enough for him, who prayed +her to speak with him more of Wisdom.</p> + +<p>So together they sat on the side of Hindfell and talked of all that is +and can be, and then together they climbed the mountain, till beneath +them they saw the kingdoms of the earth stretching far away, and +Brynhild bade him look down on her home, saying:</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Yet I bid thee look on the land 'twixt the wood and the silver sea<br /></span> +<span>In the bight of the swirling river, and the house that cherished me!<br /></span> +<span>There dwelleth mine earthly sister and the king that she hath wed;<br /></span> +<span>There morn by morn aforetime I woke on the golden bed;<br /></span><a name='Page_92'></a> +<span>There eve by eve I tarried mid the speech and the lays of kings;<br /></span> +<span>There noon by noon I wandered and plucked the blossoming things;<br /></span> +<span>The little land of Lymdale by the swirling river's side,<br /></span> +<span>Where Brynhild once was I called in the days ere my father died;<br /></span> +<span>The little land of Lymdale 'twixt the woodland and the sea,<br /></span> +<span>Where on thee mine eyes shall brighten and thine eyes shall beam on me."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"I shall seek thee there," said Sigurd, "when the day-spring is begun,<br /></span> +<span>Ere we wend the world together in the season of the sun."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"I shall bide thee there," said Brynhild, "till the fulness of the days,<br /></span> +<span>And the time for the glory appointed, and the springing-tide of praise."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>From his hand then draweth Sigurd Andvari's ancient Gold;<br /></span> +<span>There is nought but the sky above them as the ring together they hold,<br /></span> +<span>The shapen ancient token, that hath no change nor end,<br /></span> +<span>No change, and no beginning, no flaw for God to mend:<br /></span> +<span>Then Sigurd cries: "O Brynhild, now hearken while I swear,<br /></span> +<span>That the sun shall die in the heavens and the day no more be fair,<br /></span> +<span>If I seek not love in Lymdale and the house that fostered thee,<br /></span> +<span>And the land where thou awakedst 'twixt the woodland and the sea!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>And she cried: "O Sigurd, Sigurd, now hearken while I swear<br /></span> +<span>That the day shall die for ever and the sun to blackness wear,<br /></span> +<span>Ere I forget thee, Sigurd, as I lie 'twixt wood and sea<br /></span> +<span>In the little land of Lymdale and the house that fostered me!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then he set the ring on her finger and once, if ne'er again,<br /></span> +<span>They kissed and clung together, and their hearts were full and fain.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div></div><a name='Page_93'></a> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='BOOK_III'></a><h2>BOOK III.</h2> + +<h3>BRYNHILD.</h3> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of Sigurd's riding to the Niblungs</i>.</p> +<br /> + +<p>Now Brynhild and Sigurd left Hindfell, and Brynhild went to dwell in +her sister's house, but Sigurd abode not long in the land of Lymdale, +for his love urged him to great adventures wherein he might win glory +befitting the man who should wed so noble a woman as Brynhild.</p> + +<p>So it befell one day in summer that he dight himself in the Helm of +Aweing and the Mail-coat all of gold, and girded the Wrath to his side +to ride forth again. And on his saddle he bound the red rings of +Fafnir's Treasure.</p> + +<p>Then he kissed the ancient King Heimir, and hailed the folk of the +land who came to give him god-speed.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>And he gathered the reins together, and set his face to the road,<br /></span> +<span>And the glad steed neighed beneath him as they fared from the King's abode.<br /></span> +<span>And out past the dewy closes; but the shouts went up to the sky,<br /></span> +<span>Though some for very sorrow forbore the farewell cry,<br /></span> +<span>Nor was any man but heavy that the godlike guest should go;<br /></span> +<span>And they craved for that glad heart guileless, and that face without a foe.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But forth by dale and lealand doth the Son of Sigmund wend,<br /></span> +<span>Till far away lies Lymdale and the folk of the forest's end;<br /></span> +<span>And he rides a heath unpeopled and holds the westward way,<br /></span><a name='Page_94'></a> +<span>Till a long way off before him come up the mountains grey;<br /></span> +<span>Grey, huge beyond all telling, and the host of the heaped clouds,<br /></span> +<span>The black and the white together, on that rock-wall's coping crowds.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So up and down he rideth, till at even of the day<br /></span> +<span>A hill's brow he o'ertoppeth that had hid the mountains grey;<br /></span> +<span>Huge, blacker they showed than aforetime, white hung the cloud-flecks there,<br /></span> +<span>But red was the cloudy crown, for the sun was sinking fair:<br /></span> +<span>A wide plain lay beneath him, and a river through it wound<br /></span> +<span>Betwixt the lea and the acres, and the misty orchard ground;<br /></span> +<span>But forth from the feet of the mountains a ridgèd hill there ran<br /></span> +<span>That upreared at its hithermost ending a builded burg of man;<br /></span> +<span>And Sigurd deemed in his heart as he looked on the burg from afar,<br /></span> +<span>That the high Gods scarce might win it, if thereon they fell with war;<br /></span> +<span>So many and great were the walls, so bore the towers on high<br /></span> +<span>The threat of guarded battle, and the tale of victory.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>For as waves on the iron river of the days whereof nothing is told<br /></span> +<span>Stood up the many towers, so stark and sharp and cold;<br /></span> +<span>But dark-red and worn and ancient as the midmost mountain-sides<br /></span> +<span>Is the wall that goeth about them; and its mighty compass hides<br /></span> +<span>Full many a dwelling of man whence the reek now goeth aloft,<br /></span> +<span>And the voice of the house-abiders, the sharp sounds blent with the soft:<br /></span> +<span>But one house in the midst is unhidden and high up o'er the wall it goes;<br /></span> +<span>Aloft in the wind of the mountains its golden roof-ridge glows,<br /></span> +<span>And down mid its buttressed feet is the wind's voice never still;<br /></span> +<span>And the day and the night pass o'er it and it changes to their will,<br /></span> +<span>And whiles is it glassy and dark, and whiles is it white and dead,<br /></span> +<span>And whiles is it grey as the sea-mead, and whiles is it angry red;<br /></span> +<span>And it shimmers under the sunshine and grows black to the threat of the storm,<br /></span> +<span>And dusk its gold roof glimmers when the rain-clouds over it swarm,<br /></span><a name='Page_95'></a> +<span>And bright in the first of the morning its flame doth it uplift,<br /></span> +<span>When the light clouds rend before it and along its furrows drift.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then Sigurd's heart was glad as he beheld the city, and after a while +he came to a gate-way set in the northern wall, and the gate was long +and dark as a sea-cave. But no man stayed him as he rode through the +dusk to the inner court-yard, and saw the lofty roof of the hall +before him, cold now and grey like a very cloud, for the sun was +fully set. But in the towers watch-men were calling one to another. +To them he cried, saying:—</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Ho, men of this mighty burg, to what folk of the world am I come?<br /></span> +<span>And who is the King of battles who dwells in this lordly home?<br /></span> +<span>Or perchance are ye of the Elf-kin? are ye guest-fain, kind at the board,<br /></span> +<span>Or murder-churls and destroyers to gain and die by the sword?"<br /></span> +<span>Then the spears in the forecourt glittered and the swords shone over the wall,<br /></span> +<span>But the song of smitten harp-strings came faint from the cloudy hall.<br /></span> +<span>And he hearkened a voice and a crying: "The house of Giuki the King,<br /></span> +<span>And the Burg of the Niblung people and the heart of their warfaring."<br /></span> +<span>There were many men about him, and the wind in the wall-nook sang,<br /></span> +<span>And the spears of the Niblungs glittered, and the swords in the forecourt rang.<br /></span> +<span>But they looked on his face in the even, and they hushed their voices and gazed,<br /></span> +<span>For fear and great desire the hearts of men amazed.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now cometh an earl to King Giuki as he sits in godlike wise<br /></span> +<span>With his sons, the Kings of battle, and his wife of the glittering eyes,<br /></span> +<span>And the King cries out at his coming to tell why the watch-horns blew;<br /></span> +<span>But the earl saith: "Lord of the people, choose now what thou wilt do;<br /></span><a name='Page_96'></a> +<span>For here is a strange new-comer, and he saith, to thee alone<br /></span> +<span>Will he tell of his name and his kindred, and the deeds that his hand hath done."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then uprose the King of the Niblungs, and was clad in purple and pall,<br /></span> +<span>And his sheathed sword lay in his hand, as he gat him adown the hall,<br /></span> +<span>And abroad through the Niblung doorway; and a mighty man he was,<br /></span> +<span>And wise and ancient of days: so there by the earls doth he pass,<br /></span> +<span>And beholdeth the King on the war-steed and looketh up in his face:<br /></span> +<span>But Sigurd smileth upon him in the Niblungs' fencèd place,<br /></span> +<span>As the King saith: "Gold-bestrider, who into our garth wouldst ride,<br /></span> +<span>Wilt thou tell thy name to a King, who biddeth thee here abide<br /></span> +<span>And have all good at our hands? for unto the Niblungs' home<br /></span> +<span>And the heart of a war-fain people from the weary road are ye come;<br /></span> +<span>And I am Giuki the King: so now if thou nam'st thee a God,<br /></span> +<span>Look not to see me tremble; for I know of such that have trod<br /></span> +<span>Unfeared in the Burg of the Niblungs; nor worser, nor better at all<br /></span> +<span>May fare the folk of the Gods than the Kings in Giuki's hall;<br /></span> +<span>So I bid thee abide in my house, and when many days are o'er,<br /></span> +<span>Thou shalt tell us at last of thine errand, if thou bear us peace or war."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then all rejoiced at his word till the swords on the bucklers rang,<br /></span> +<span>And adown from the red-gold Treasure the Son of Sigmund sprang,<br /></span> +<span>And he took the hand of Giuki, and kissed him soft and sweet,<br /></span> +<span>And spake: "Hail, ancient of days! for thou biddest me things most meet,<br /></span> +<span>And thou knowest the good from the evil: few days are over and gone<br /></span> +<span>Since my father was old in the world ere the deed of my making was won;<br /></span> +<span>But Sigmund the Volsung he was, full ripe of years and of fame;<br /></span> +<span>And I, who have never beheld him, am Sigurd called of name;<br /></span> +<span>Too young in the world am I waxen that a tale thereof should be told,<br /></span> +<span>And yet have I slain the Serpent, and gotten the Ancient Gold,<br /></span><a name='Page_97'></a> +<span>And broken the bonds of the weary, and ridden the Wavering Fire.<br /></span> +<span>But short is mine errand to tell, and the end of my desire:<br /></span> +<span>For peace I bear unto thee, and to all the kings of the earth,<br /></span> +<span>Who bear the sword aright, and are crowned with the crown of worth;<br /></span> +<span>But unpeace to the lords of evil, and the battle and the death;<br /></span> +<span>And the edge of the sword to the traitor, and the flame to the slanderous breath:<br /></span> +<span>And I would that the loving were loved, and I would that the weary should sleep,<br /></span> +<span>And that man should hearken to man, and that he that soweth should reap.<br /></span> +<span>Now wide in the world would I fare, to seek the dwellings of Kings,<br /></span> +<span>For with them would I do and undo, and be heart of their warfarings;<br /></span> +<span>So I thank thee, lord, for thy bidding, and here in thine house will I bide,<br /></span> +<span>And learn of thine ancient wisdom till forth to the field we ride."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Glad then was the murmur of folk, for the tidings had gone forth,<br /></span> +<span>And its breath had been borne to the Niblungs, and the tale of Sigurd's worth.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But the King said: "Welcome, Sigurd, full fair of deed and of word!<br /></span> +<span>And here mayst thou win thee fellows for the days of the peace and the sword;<br /></span> +<span>For not lone in the world have I lived, but sons from my loins have sprung,<br /></span> +<span>Whose deeds with the rhyme are mingled, and their names with the people's tongue."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then he took his hand in his hand, and into the hall they passed,<br /></span> +<span>And great shouts of salutation to the cloudy roof were cast;<br /></span> +<span>And they rang from the glassy pillars, and the Gods on the hangings stirred,<br /></span> +<span>And afar the clustering eagles on the golden roof-ridge heard,<br /></span> +<span>And cried out on the Sword of the Branstock as they cried in the other days:<br /></span><a name='Page_98'></a> +<span>Then the harps rang out in the hall, and men sang in Sigurd's praise<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But now on the daïs he meeteth the kin of Giuki the wise:<br /></span> +<span>Lo, here is the crownèd Grimhild, the queen of the glittering eyes;<br /></span> +<span>Lo, here is the goodly Gunnar with the face of a king's desire;<br /></span> +<span>Lo, here is Hogni that holdeth the wisdom tried in the fire;<br /></span> +<span>Lo, here is Guttorm the youngest, who longs for the meeting swords;<br /></span> +<span>Lo, here, as a rose in the oak-boughs, amid the Niblung lords<br /></span> +<span>Is the Maid of the Niblungs standing, the white-armed Giuki's child;<br /></span> +<span>And all these looked long on Sigurd and their hearts upon him smiled.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then all gave him greeting as one who should be their fellow in mighty +deeds, and the fair-armed Gudrun, Giuki's daughter, brought him a cup +of welcome, and that night the Niblungs feasted in gladness of heart.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of Sigurd's warfaring in the company of the Niblungs, and of his great +fame and glory.</i></p> + +<p>So Sigurd abode with the Niblungs all through summer and harvest time +till with the stark midwinter came tidings of war. Then the earls of +Giuki donned dusky hauberks and led forth their bands from the +fortress, and the fair face and golden gear of Sigurd shone among +those swart-haired warriors.</p> + +<p>They fell on the cities of the plains, but none might resist the +valour of Sigurd, and the Niblungs turned in triumph from the war, +bringing rich spoil. So all that winter Sigurd fared to war with them +and grew greater in glory and more beloved of all men, but ever the +thoughts of his heart turned to Lymdale and to Brynhild who awaited +him there.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now sheathed is the Wrath of Sigurd; for as wax withstands the flame,<br /></span> +<span>So the Kings of the land withstood him and the glory of his fame.<br /></span><a name='Page_99'></a> +<span>And before the grass is growing, or the kine have fared from the stall,<br /></span> +<span>The song of the fair-speech-masters goes up in the Niblung hall,<br /></span> +<span>And they sing of the golden Sigurd and the face without a foe,<br /></span> +<span>And the lowly man exalted and the mighty brought alow:<br /></span> +<span>And they say, when the sun of summer shall come aback to the land,<br /></span> +<span>It shall shine on the fields of the tiller that fears no heavy hand;<br /></span> +<span>That the sheaf shall be for the plougher, and the loaf for him that sowed,<br /></span> +<span>Through every furrowed acre where the son of Sigmund rode.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Full dear was Sigurd the Volsung to all men most and least,<br /></span> +<span>And now, as the spring drew onward, 'twas deemed a goodly feast<br /></span> +<span>For the acre-biders' children by the Niblung Burg to wait,<br /></span> +<span>If perchance the Son of Sigmund should ride abroad by the gate:<br /></span> +<span>For whosoever feared him, no little-one, forsooth,<br /></span> +<span>Would shrink from the shining eyes and the hand that clave out truth<br /></span> +<span>From the heart of the wrack and the battle: it was then, as his gold gear burned<br /></span> +<span>O'er the balks of the bridge and the river, that oft the mother turned,<br /></span> +<span>And spake to the laughing baby: "O little son, and dear,<br /></span> +<span>When I from the world am departed, and whiles a-nights ye hear<br /></span> +<span>The best of man-folk longing for the least of Sigurd's days,<br /></span> +<span>Thou shalt hearken to their story, till they tell forth all his praise,<br /></span> +<span>And become beloved and a wonder, as thou sayest when all is sung,<br /></span> +<span>'And I too once beheld him in the days when I was young.'"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Yea, they sing the song of Sigurd and the face without a foe,<br /></span> +<span>And they sing of the prison's rending and the tyrant laid alow,<br /></span> +<span>And the golden thieves' abasement, and the stilling of the churl,<br /></span> +<span>And the mocking of the dastard where the chasing edges whirl;<br /></span> +<span>And they sing of the outland maidens that thronged round Sigurd's hand,<br /></span> +<span>And sung in the streets of the foemen of the war-delivered land;<br /></span><a name='Page_100'></a> +<span>And they tell how the ships of the merchants come free and go at their will,<br /></span> +<span>And how wives in peace and safety may crop the vine-clad hill;<br /></span> +<span>How the maiden sits in her bower, and the weaver sings at his loom,<br /></span> +<span>And forget the kings of grasping and the greedy days of gloom;<br /></span> +<span>For by sea and hill and township hath the Son of Sigmund been,<br /></span> +<span>And looked on the folk unheeded, and the lowly people seen.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But he stood in the sight of the people, and sweet he was to see,<br /></span> +<span>And no foe and no betrayer, and no envier now hath he:<br /></span> +<span>But Gunnar the bright in the battle deems him his earthly friend,<br /></span> +<span>And Hogni is fain of his fellow, howso the day's work end,<br /></span> +<span>And Guttorm the young is joyous of the help and gifts he hath;<br /></span> +<span>And all these would shine beside him in the glory of his path;<br /></span> +<span>There is none to hate or hinder, or mar the golden day,<br /></span> +<span>And the light of love flows plenteous, as the sun-beams hide the way.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of the Cup of evil drink that Grimhild the Wise-wife gave to Sigurd.</i></p> + +<p>Now Gudrun the daughter of Giuki beheld Sigurd's glory and knew the +kindness of his heart, and set her love on him, not knowing that all +his thoughts were given to Brynhild. So Sigurd, seeing her sad and in +no wise guessing the cause of her grief, strove to comfort her with +kindly words, but her mood was still unchanged.</p> + +<p>Then Grimhild the Queen, who was a witch-wife and a woman of crafty +mind, marked the love of Gudrun for Sigurd, and marked moreover how +his power and honour in the land would soon be greater than that of +her own sons. Therefore she cast about for some shift that might bind +Sigurd to serve with the Niblungs all his life-days.</p> + +<p>Now it befell one night that Sigurd had returned from warring and sat +on the high-seat to sup with the Niblung kings. His heart <a name='Page_101'></a>was merry +with victory and ever he thought of Hindfell and of Lymdale and the +love of Brynhild. The people waxed joyful, and the hangings whereon +glowed figures of the gods were stirred with their song and shouting +till Giuki called on Sigurd to take the harp and sing of deeds agone. +Then all men hearkened, hushed and happy, while Sigurd struck the +strings and sang of his mighty kin, of Volsung, of Signy, and of +Sigmund, their deeds and noble deaths. At last the tale was ended and +he fell silent thinking still of Brynhild.</p> + +<p>Now came Grimhild bearing him a cup of wine and speaking fair words +of praise, but in the wine she had mingled a fatal witch-drink. So +she stood by Sigurd and said:—</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>"There is none of the kings of kingdoms that may match thy goodlihead:<br /></span> +<span>Lo now, thou hast sung of thy fathers; but men shall sing of thee,<br /></span> +<span>And therewith shall our house be remembered, and great shall our glory be.<br /></span> +<span>I beseech thee hearken a little to a faithful word of mine,<br /></span> +<span>When thou of this cup hast drunken; for my love is blent with the wine."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>He laughed and took the cup: But therein with the blood of the earth<br /></span> +<span>Earth's hidden might was mingled, and deeds of the cold sea's birth,<br /></span> +<span>And things that the high Gods turn from, and a tangle of strange love,<br /></span> +<span>Deep guile and strong compelling, that whoso drank thereof<br /></span> +<span>Should remember not his longing, should cast his love away,<br /></span> +<span>Remembering dead desire but as night remembereth day.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So Sigurd looked on the horn, and he saw how fair it was scored<br /></span> +<span>With the cunning of the Dwarf-kind and the masters of the sword;<br /></span> +<span>And he drank and smiled on Grimhild above the beaker's rim,<br /></span> +<span>And she looked and laughed at his laughter; and the soul was changed in him.<br /></span><a name='Page_102'></a> +<span>Men gazed and their hearts sank in them, and they knew not why it was,<br /></span> +<span>Why the fair-lit hall was darkling, nor what had come to pass:<br /></span> +<span>For they saw the sorrow of Sigurd, who had seen but his deeds erewhile,<br /></span> +<span>And the face of the mighty darkened, who had known but the light of its smile.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But Grimhild looked and was merry: and she deemed her life was great,<br /></span> +<span>And her hand a wonder of wonders to withstand the deeds of Fate:<br /></span> +<span>For she saw by the face of Sigurd and the token of his eyes<br /></span> +<span>That her will had abased the valiant, and filled the faithful with lies.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But the heart was changed in Sigurd; as though it ne'er had been<br /></span> +<span>His love of Brynhild perished as he gazed on the Niblung Queen:<br /></span> +<span>Brynhild's belovèd body was e'en as a wasted hearth,<br /></span> +<span>No more for bale or blessing, for plenty or for dearth.<br /></span> +<span>—O ye that shall look hereafter, when the day of Sigurd is done,<br /></span> +<span>And the last of his deeds is accomplished, and his eyes are shut in the sun,<br /></span> +<span>When ye look and long for Sigurd, and the image of Sigurd behold,<br /></span> +<span>And his white sword still as the moon, and his strong hand heavy and cold,<br /></span> +<span>Then perchance shall ye think of this even, then perchance shall ye wonder and cry,<br /></span> +<span>"Twice over, King, are we smitten, and twice have we seen thee die."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Men say that a little after the evil of that night<br /></span> +<span>All waste is the burg of Brynhild, and there springeth a marvellous light<br /></span> +<span>On the desert hard by Lymdale, and few men know for why;<br /></span> +<span>But there are, who say that a wildfire thence roareth up to the sky<br /></span> +<span>Round a glorious golden dwelling, wherein there sitteth a Queen<br /></span> +<span>In remembrance of the wakening, and the slumber that hath been;<br /></span><a name='Page_103'></a> +<span>Wherein a Maid there sitteth, who knows not hope nor rest<br /></span> +<span>For remembrance of the Mighty, and the Best come forth from the Best.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Now after Sigurd took the witch-drink came a great hush upon the +feast-hall for a space. But Grimhild was fain of that hour and cried +to the scalds for music, and they hastened to strike the harp, but no +joy mingled with the sounds and no man was moved to singing.</p> + +<p>No word spake Sigurd till the feast was over; then he strode out +alone from the hall and the folk fell back before him. So he took a +steed and all that night he rode alone in the deedless dark, and all +the morrow, very heavy at heart yet knowing no cause for grief, and +remembering all things save Brynhild.</p> + +<p>At last he came again at sunset to the Niblung gates, and there came +forth Giuki and Grimhild and the Niblung brethren with fair words of +greeting, but in the doorway Gudrun stood and wept. So Sigurd entered +with them, yet he knew that a flood of sorrow had come on his +life-days and that no more might he feel the joy he had known +aforetime in the Niblung hall. Howbeit, when he looked on the people +and saw them in fear at his trouble, the kindness of his heart was +kindled, and thrusting the heavy sorrow aside, he lifted his head and +spake wise words of good cheer so that the folk looking on him were +comforted.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of the Wedding of Sigurd the Volsung.</i></p> + +<p>But Gudrun knew Sigurd's heart and was sorrowful because of his grief +and her great love for him, and when Grimhild bade her carry him wine, +she arose and took the cup but could find no word to speak for +anguish. And Sigurd looking on her face saw there a <a name='Page_104'></a>kindness and a +sorrow like his own, and seeing it he knew that she loved him. Then +pity and love for her rose in his heart and comforted him, and he +took the cup from her and spake, saying:—</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Here are glad men about us, and a joyous folk of war,<br /></span> +<span>And they that have loved thee for long, and they that have cherished mine heart;<br /></span> +<span>But we twain alone are woeful, as sad folk sitting apart.<br /></span> +<span>Ah, if I thy soul might gladden! if thy lips might give me peace!<br /></span> +<span>Then belike were we gladdest of all; for I love thee more than these.<br /></span> +<span>The cup of goodwill that thou bearest, and the greeting thou wouldst say,<br /></span> +<span>Turn these to the cup of thy love, and the words of the troth-plighting day;<br /></span> +<span>The love that endureth for ever, and the never-dying troth,<br /></span> +<span>To face the Norns' undoing, and the Gods amid their wrath."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>And his clear voice saith:<br /></span> +<span class='i8'>"O Gudrun, now hearken while I swear<br /></span> +<span>That the sun shall die for ever and the day no more be fair,<br /></span> +<span>Ere I forget thy pity and thine inmost heart of love!<br /></span> +<span>Yea, though the Kings be mighty, and the Gods be great above,<br /></span> +<span>I will wade the flood and the fire, and the waste of war forlorn,<br /></span> +<span>To look on the Niblung dwelling, and the house where thou wert born."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Strange seemed the words to Sigurd that his gathering love compelled,<br /></span> +<span>And sweet and strange desire o'er his tangled trouble welled.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But bright flashed the eyes of Gudrun, and she said: "King, as for me,<br /></span> +<span>If thou sawest the heart in my bosom, what oath might better thee?<br /></span> +<span>Yet my words thy words shall cherish, as thy lips my lips have done.<br /></span> +<span>—Herewith I swear, O Sigurd, that the earth shall hate the sun,<br /></span><a name='Page_105'></a> +<span>And the year desire but darkness, and the blossoms shrink from day,<br /></span> +<span>Ere my love shall fail, belovèd, or my longing pass away!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>So they twain went hand in hand to stand before Giuki and Grimhild +and the swart-haired Niblung brethren, and all these were +glad-hearted when they marked their joy and goodlihead. Then Sigurd +spake noble words of thanks to Giuki for all past kindness, and bade +Giuki call him son because he had that day bidden Gudrun to wife, and +he sware also to toil for her exalting and for the weal of all the +Niblung kin. Thereto Giuki answered glad-hearted, "Hail, Sigurd, son +of mine eld!" and called upon Grimhild the Queen to bless him.</p> + +<p>Thus was Sigurd troth-plight to the white-armed Gudrun, and all men +were fain of their love and spake nought but praise of him.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>Hark now, on the morrow morning how the blast of the mighty horn<br /></span> +<span>From the builded Burg of the Niblungs goes over the acres shorn,<br /></span> +<span>And the roads are gay with the riders, and the bull in the stall is left,<br /></span> +<span>And the plough is alone in the furrow, and the wedge in the hole half-cleft;<br /></span> +<span>And late shall the ewes be folded, and the kine come home to the pail,<br /></span> +<span>And late shall the fires be litten in the outmost treeless dale:<br /></span> +<span>For men fare to the gate of Giuki and the ancient cloudy hall,<br /></span> +<span>And therein are the earls assembled and the kings wear purple and pall,<br /></span> +<span>And the flowers are spread beneath them, and the bench-cloths beaten with gold;<br /></span> +<span>And the walls are strange and wondrous with the noble stories told:<br /></span> +<span>For new-hung is the ancient dwelling with the golden spoils of the south,<br /></span> +<span>And men seem merry for ever, and the praise is in each man's mouth,<br /></span> +<span>And the name of Sigurd the Volsung, the King and the Serpent's Bane,<br /></span><a name='Page_106'></a> +<span>Who exalteth the high this morning and blesseth the masters of gain:<br /></span> +<span>For men drink the bridal of Sigurd and the white-armed Niblung maid,<br /></span> +<span>And the best with the best shall be mingled, and the gold with the gold o'erlaid.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So, fair in the hall is the feasting and men's hearts are uplifted on high,<br /></span> +<span>And they deem that the best of their life-days are surely drawing anigh,<br /></span> +<span>As now, one after other, uprise the scalds renowned,<br /></span> +<span>And their well-belovèd voices awake the hoped-for sound,<br /></span> +<span>In the midmost of the high-tide, and the joy of feasting lords.<br /></span> +<span>Then cometh a hush and a waiting, and the light of many swords<br /></span> +<span>Flows into the hall of Giuki by the doorway of the King,<br /></span> +<span>And amid those flames of battle the war-clad warriors bring<br /></span> +<span>The Cup of daring Promise and the hallowed Boar of Sôn,<br /></span> +<span>And men's hearts grow big with longing and great is the hope-tide grown;<br /></span> +<span>For bright the Son of Sigmund ariseth by the board<br /></span> +<span>And unwinds the knitted peace-strings that hamper Regin's Sword:<br /></span> +<span>Then fierce is the light on the high-seat as men set down the Cup<br /></span> +<span>Anigh the hand of Sigurd, and the edges blue rise up,<br /></span> +<span>And fall on the hallowed Wood-beast: as a trump of the woeful war<br /></span> +<span>Rings the voice of the mighty Volsung as he speaks the words of yore:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"By the Earth that groweth and giveth, and by all the Earth's increase<br /></span> +<span>That is spent for Gods and man-folk; by the sun that shines on these;<br /></span> +<span>By the Salt-Sea-Flood that beareth the life and death of men;<br /></span> +<span>By the Heavens and Stars that change not, though earth die out again;<br /></span> +<span>By the wild things of the mountain, and the houseless waste and lone;<br /></span><a name='Page_107'></a> +<span>By the prey of the Goths in the thicket and the holy Beast of Sôn,<br /></span> +<span>I hallow me to Odin for a leader of his host,<br /></span> +<span>To do the deeds of the Highest, and never count the cost:<br /></span> +<span>And I swear, that whatso great-one shall show the day and the deed,<br /></span> +<span>I shall ask not why nor wherefore, but the sword's desire shall speed:<br /></span> +<span>And I swear to seek no quarrel, nor to swerve aside for aught,<br /></span> +<span>Though the right and the left be blooming, and the straight way wend to nought:<br /></span> +<span>And I swear to abide and hearken the prayer of any thrall,<br /></span> +<span>Though the war-torch be on the threshold and the foemen's feet in the hall:<br /></span> +<span>And I swear to sit on my throne in the guise of the kings of the earth,<br /></span> +<span>Though the anguish past amending, and the unheard woe have birth:<br /></span> +<span>And I swear to wend in my sorrow that none shall curse mine eyes<br /></span> +<span>For the scowl that quelleth beseeching, and the hate that scorneth the wise.<br /></span> +<span>So help me Earth and Heavens, and the Under-sky and Seas,<br /></span> +<span>And the Stars in their ordered houses, and the Norns that order these!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>And he drank of the Cup of the Promise, and fair as a star he shone,<br /></span> +<span>And all men rejoiced and wondered, and deemed Earth's glory won.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then came the girded maidens, and the slim earls' daughters poured,<br /></span> +<span>And uprose the dark-haired Gunnar and bare was the Niblung sword;<br /></span> +<span>Blue it gleamed in the hand of the folk-king as he laid it low on the Beast,<br /></span> +<span>And took oath as the Goths of aforetime in the hush of the people's feast:<br /></span> +<span>"I will work for the craving of Kings, and accomplish the will of the great,<br /></span> +<span>Nor ask what God withstandeth, nor hearken the tales of fate;<br /></span> +<span>When a King my life hath exalted, and wrought for my hope and my gain,<br /></span> +<span>For every deed he hath done me, thereto shall I fashion twain.<br /></span><a name='Page_108'></a> +<span>I shall bear forth the fame of the Niblungs through all that hindereth;<br /></span> +<span>In my life shall I win great glory, and be merry in my death."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So sweareth the lovely war-king and drinketh of the Cup,<br /></span> +<span>And the joy of the people waxeth and their glad cry goeth up.<br /></span> +<span>But again came the girded maidens: earls' daughters pour the wine,<br /></span> +<span>And bare is the blade of Hogni in the feast-hall over the Swine;<br /></span> +<span>Then he cries o'er the hallowed Wood-beast: "Earth, hearken, how I swear,<br /></span> +<span>To beseech no man for his helping, and to vex no God with prayer;<br /></span> +<span>And to seek out the will of the Norns, and look in the eyes of the curse;<br /></span> +<span>And to laugh while the love aboundeth, lest the glad world grow into worse;<br /></span> +<span>Then if in the murder I laugh not, O Earth, remember my name,<br /></span> +<span>And oft tell it aloud to the people for the Niblungs' fated shame!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then he drank of the Cup of the Promise, and all men hearkened and deemed<br /></span> +<span>That his speech was great and valiant, and as one of the wise he seemed.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then the linen-folded maidens of the earl-folk lift the gold,<br /></span> +<span>But the earls look each on the other, and Guttorm's place behold,<br /></span> +<span>And empty it lieth before them; for the child hath wearied of peace,<br /></span> +<span>And he sits by the oars in the East-seas, and winneth fame's increase.<br /></span> +<span>Nor then, nor ever after, o'er the Holy Beast he spake,<br /></span> +<span>When mighty hearts were exalted for the golden Sigurd's sake.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p><i>Sigurd rideth with the Niblungs, and wooeth Brynhild for King Gunnar.</i></p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now it fell on a day of the spring-tide that followed on these things,<br /></span> +<span>That Sigurd fares to the meadows with Gunnar and Hogni the Kings;<br /></span><a name='Page_109'></a> +<span>For afar is Guttorm the youngest, and he sails the Eastern Seas,<br /></span> +<span>And fares with war-shield hoisted to win him fame's increase.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>There stay those Kings of the people alone in weed of war,<br /></span> +<span>And they cut a strip of the greensward on the meadow's daisied floor,<br /></span> +<span>And loosen it clean in the midst, while its ends in the earth abide;<br /></span> +<span>Then they heave its midmost aloft, and set on either side<br /></span> +<span>An ancient spear of battle writ round with words of worth;<br /></span> +<span>And these are the posts of the door, whose threshold is of the earth,<br /></span> +<span>And the skin of the earth is its lintel: but with war-glaives gleaming bare<br /></span> +<span>The Niblung Kings and Sigurd beneath the earth-yoke fare;<br /></span> +<span>Then each an arm-vein openeth, and their blended blood falls down<br /></span> +<span>On Earth the fruitful Mother where they rent her turfy gown:<br /></span> +<span>And then, when the blood of the Volsungs hath run with the Niblung blood,<br /></span> +<span>They kneel with their hands upon it and swear the brotherhood:<br /></span> +<span>Each man at his brother's bidding to come with the blade in his hand,<br /></span> +<span>Though the fire and the flood should sunder, and the very Gods withstand:<br /></span> +<span>Each man to love and cherish his brother's hope and will;<br /></span> +<span>Each man to avenge his brother when the Norns his fate fulfill:<br /></span> +<span>And now are they foster-brethren, and in such wise have they sworn<br /></span> +<span>As the God-born Goths of aforetime, when the world was newly born.<br /></span> +<span>But among the folk of the Niblungs goes forth the tale of the same,<br /></span> +<span>And men deem the tidings a glory and the garland of their fame.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So is Sigurd yet with the Niblungs, and he loveth Gudrun his wife,<br /></span> +<span>And wendeth afield with the brethren to the days of the dooming of life;<br /></span> +<span>And nought his glory waneth, nor falleth the flood of praise:<br /></span> +<span>To every man he hearkeneth, nor gainsayeth any grace,<br /></span> +<span>And glad is the poor in the Doom-ring when he seeth his face mid the Kings,<br /></span> +<span>For the tangle straighteneth before him, and the maze of crookèd things.<br /></span><a name='Page_110'></a> +<span>But the smile is departed from him, and the laugh of Sigurd the young,<br /></span> +<span>And of few words now is he waxen, and his songs are seldom sung.<br /></span> +<span>Howbeit of all the sad-faced was Sigurd loved the best;<br /></span> +<span>And men say: Is the king's heart mighty beyond all hope of rest?<br /></span> +<span>Lo, how he beareth the people! how heavy their woes are grown!<br /></span> +<span>So oft were a God mid the Goth-folk, if he dwelt in the world alone.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Now Giuki the king was long grown old, and he died and was buried +beneath a great earth-mound high on the mountains.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>So there lieth Giuki the King, mid steel and the glimmer of gold,<br /></span> +<span>As the sound of the feastful Niblungs round his misty house is rolled:<br /></span> +<span>But Gunnar is King of the people, and the chief of the Niblung land;<br /></span> +<span>A man beloved for his mercy, and his might and his open hand;<br /></span> +<span>A glorious king in the battle, a hearkener at the doom,<br /></span> +<span>A singer to sing the sun up from the heart of the midnight gloom.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>On a day sit the Kings in the high-seat when Grimhild saith to her son:<br /></span> +<span>"O Gunnar, King belovèd, a fair life hast thou won;<br /></span> +<span>On the flood, in the field hast thou wrought, and hung the chambers with gold;<br /></span> +<span>Far abroad mid many a people are the tidings of thee told:<br /></span> +<span>Now do a deed for thy mother and the hallowed Niblung hearth,<br /></span> +<span>Lest the house of the mighty perish, and our tale grow wan with dearth.<br /></span> +<span>If thou do the deed that I bid thee, and wed a wife of the Kings,<br /></span> +<span>No less shalt thou cleave the war-helms and scatter the ruddy rings."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>He said: "Meseemeth, mother, thou speakest not in haste,<br /></span> +<span>But hast sought and found beforehand, lest thy fair words fall to waste."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>She said: "Thou sayest the sooth; I have found the thing I sought:<br /></span> +<span>A Maid for thee is shapen, and a Queen for thee is wrought:<br /></span> +<span>In the waste land hard by Lymdale a marvellous hall is built,<br /></span> +<span>With its roof of the red gold beaten, and its wall-stones over-gilt:<br /></span> +<span>Afar o'er the heath men see it, but no man draweth nigher,<br /></span> +<span>For the garth that goeth about it is nought but the roaring fire,<br /></span><a name='Page_111'></a> +<span>A white wall waving aloft; and no window nor wicket is there,<br /></span> +<span>Whereby the shielded earl-folk or the sons of the merchants may fare:<br /></span> +<span>But few things from me are hidden, and I know in that hall of gold<br /></span> +<span>Sits Brynhild, white as a wild-swan where the foamless seas are rolled;<br /></span> +<span>And the daughter of Kings of the world, and the sister of Queens is she,<br /></span> +<span>And wise, and Odin's Chooser, and the Breath of Victory:<br /></span> +<span>But for this cause sitteth she thus in the ring of the Wavering Flame,<br /></span> +<span>That no son of the Kings will she wed save the mightiest master of fame,<br /></span> +<span>And the man who knoweth not fear, and the man foredoomed of fate<br /></span> +<span>To ride through her Wavering Fire to the door of her golden gate:<br /></span> +<span>And for him she sitteth and waiteth, and him shall she cherish and love,<br /></span> +<span>Though the Kings of the world should withstand it, and the Gods that sit above.<br /></span> +<span>Speak thou, O mighty Gunnar!—nay rather, Sigurd my son,<br /></span> +<span>Say who but the lord of the Niblungs should wed with this glorious one?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Long Sigurd gazeth upon her, and slow he sayeth again:<br /></span> +<span>"I know thy will, my mother; of all the sons of men,<br /></span> +<span>Of all the Kings unwedded, and the kindred of the great,<br /></span> +<span>It is meet that my brother Gunnar should ride to her golden gate."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>In the May-morn riseth Gunnar with fair face and gleaming eyes,<br /></span> +<span>And he calleth on Sigurd his brother, and he calleth on Hogni the wise:<br /></span> +<span>"Today shall we fare to the wooing, for so doth our mother bid;<br /></span> +<span>We shall go to gaze on marvels, and things from the King-folk hid."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So they do on the best of their war-gear, and their steeds are dight for the road,<br /></span> +<span>And forth to the sun neigheth Greyfell as he neighed 'neath the Golden Load:<br /></span> +<span>But or ever they leap to the saddle, while yet in the door they stand,<br /></span> +<span>Thereto cometh Grimhild the wise-wife, and on each head layeth her hand,<br /></span><a name='Page_112'></a> +<span>As she saith: "Be mighty and wise, as the kings that came before!<br /></span> +<span>For they knew of the ways of the Gods, and the craft of the Gods they bore:<br /></span> +<span>And they knew how the shapes of man-folk are the very images<br /></span> +<span>Of the hearts that abide within them, and they knew of the shaping of these.<br /></span> +<span>Be wise and mighty, O Kings, and look in mine heart and behold<br /></span> +<span>The craft that prevaileth o'er semblance, and the treasured wisdom of old!<br /></span> +<span>I hallow you thus for the day, and I hallow you thus for the night,<br /></span> +<span>And I hallow you thus for the dawning with my fathers' hidden might.<br /></span> +<span>Go now, for ye bear my will while I sit in the hall and spin;<br /></span> +<span>And tonight shall be the weaving, and tomorn the web shall ye win."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So they leap to the saddles aloft, and they ride and speak no word,<br /></span> +<span>But the hills and the dales are awakened by the clink of the sheathèd sword:<br /></span> +<span>None looks in the face of the other, but the earth and the heavens gaze,<br /></span> +<span>And behold those kings of battle ride down the dusty ways.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So they come to the Waste of Lymdale when the afternoon is begun,<br /></span> +<span>And afar they see the flame-blink on the grey sky under the sun:<br /></span> +<span>And they spur and speak no word, and no man to his fellow will turn;<br /></span> +<span>But they see the hills draw upward and the earth beginning to burn:<br /></span> +<span>And they ride, and the eve is coming, and the sun hangs low o'er the earth,<br /></span> +<span>And the red flame roars up to it from the midst of the desert's dearth.<br /></span> +<span>None turns or speaks to his brother, but the Wrath gleams bare and red,<br /></span> +<span>And blood-red is the Helm of Aweing on the golden Sigurd's head,<br /></span> +<span>And bare is the blade of Gunnar, and the first of the three he rides,<br /></span> +<span>And the wavering wall is before him and the golden sun it hides.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then the heart of a king's son failed not, but he tossed his sword on high<br /></span> +<span>And laughed as he spurred for the fire, and cried the Niblung cry;<br /></span><a name='Page_113'></a> +<span>But the mare's son saw and imagined, and the battle-eager steed,<br /></span> +<span>That so oft had pierced the spear-hedge and never failed at need,<br /></span> +<span>Shrank back, and shrieked in his terror, and spite of spur and rein<br /></span> +<span>Fled fast as the foals unbitted on Odin's pasturing plain;<br /></span> +<span>Wide then he wheeled with Gunnar, but with hand and knee he dealt,<br /></span> +<span>And the voice of a lord belovèd, till the steed his master felt,<br /></span> +<span>And bore him back to the brethren; by Greyfell Sigurd stood,<br /></span> +<span>And stared at the heart of the fire, and his helm was red as blood;<br /></span> +<span>But Hogni sat in his saddle, and watched the flames up-roll;<br /></span> +<span>And he said: "Thy steed has failed thee that was once the noblest foal<br /></span> +<span>In the pastures of King Giuki; but since thine heart fails not,<br /></span> +<span>And thou wouldst not get thee backward and say, The fire was hot,<br /></span> +<span>And the voices pent within it were singing nought but death,<br /></span> +<span>Let Sigurd lend thee his steed that wore the Glittering Heath,<br /></span> +<span>And carried the Bed of the Serpent, and the ancient ruddy rings.<br /></span> +<span>So perchance may the mocks be lesser when men tell of the Niblung Kings."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Sigurd looked on the twain, and he saw their swart hair wave<br /></span> +<span>In the wind of the waste and the flame-blast, and no answer awhile he gave.<br /></span> +<span>But at last he spake: "O brother, on Greyfell shalt thou ride,<br /></span> +<span>And do on the Helm of Aweing and gird the Wrath to thy side,<br /></span> +<span>And cover thy breast with the war-coat that is throughly woven of gold,<br /></span> +<span>That hath not its like in the heavens nor has earth of its fellow told:<br /></span> +<span>For this is the raiment of Kings when they ride the Flickering Fire,<br /></span> +<span>And so sink the flames before them and the might of their desire."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Hogni laughed in his heart, and he said: "This changing were well<br /></span> +<span>If so might the deed be accomplished; but perchance there is more to tell:<br /></span> +<span>Thou shalt take the war-steed, Gunnar, and enough or nought it shall be:<br /></span> +<span>But the coal-blue gear of the Niblungs the golden hall shall see."<br /></span><a name='Page_114'></a> +<span>Then Sigurd looked on the speaker, as one who would answer again,<br /></span> +<span>But his words died out on the waste and the fire-blast made them vain.<br /></span> +<span>Then he casteth the reins to his brother, and Gunnar praiseth his gift,<br /></span> +<span>And springeth aloft to the saddle as the fair sun fails from the lift;<br /></span> +<span>And Sigurd looks on the burden that Greyfell doth uprear,<br /></span> +<span>The huge king towering upward in the dusky Niblung gear:<br /></span> +<span>There sits the eager Gunnar, and his heart desires the deed,<br /></span> +<span>And of nought he recketh and thinketh, but a fame-stirred warrior's need;<br /></span> +<span>But Greyfell trembleth nothing and nought of the fire doth reck:<br /></span> +<span>Then the spurs in his flank are smitten, and the reins lie loose on his neck,<br /></span> +<span>And the sharp cry springeth from Gunnar—no handbreadth stirred the beast;<br /></span> +<span>The dusk drew on and over and the light of the fire increased,<br /></span> +<span>And still as a shard on the mountain in the sandy dale alone<br /></span> +<span>Was the shape of the cloudy Greyfell, nor moved he more than the stone;<br /></span> +<span>But right through the heart of the fire for ever Sigurd stared,<br /></span> +<span>As he stood in the gold red-litten with the Wrath's thin edges bared.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>No word for a while spake any, till Gunnar leaped to the earth,<br /></span> +<span>And the anger wrought within him, and the fierce words came to birth:<br /></span> +<span>"Who mocketh the King of the Niblungs in the desert land forlorn?<br /></span> +<span>Is it thou, O Sigurd the Stranger? is it thou, O younger-born?<br /></span> +<span>Dost thou laugh in the hall, O Mother? dost thou spin, and laugh at the tale<br /></span> +<span>That has drawn thy son and thine eldest to the sword and the blaze of the bale?<br /></span> +<span>Or thou, O God of the Goths, wilt thou hide and laugh thy fill,<br /></span> +<span>While the hands of the foster-brethren the blood of brothers spill?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But the awful voice of Sigurd across the wild went forth:<br /></span> +<span>"How changed are the words of Gunnar! where wend his ways of worth?<br /></span><a name='Page_115'></a> +<span>I mock thee not in the desert, as I mocked thee not in the mead,<br /></span> +<span>When I swore beneath the turf-yoke to help thy fondest need:<br /></span> +<span>Nay, strengthen thine heart for the work, for the gift that thy manhood awaits;<br /></span> +<span>For I give thee a gift, O Niblung, that shall overload the Fates,<br /></span> +<span>And how may a King sustain it? but forbear with the dark to strive;<br /></span> +<span>For thy mother spinneth and worketh, and her craft is awake and alive."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Hogni spake from the saddle: "The time, and the time is come<br /></span> +<span>To gather the might of our mother, and of her that spinneth at home.<br /></span> +<span>Forbear all words, O Gunnar, and anigh to Sigurd stand,<br /></span> +<span>And face to face behold him, and take his hand in thine hand:<br /></span> +<span>Then be thy will as his will, that his heart may mingle with thine,<br /></span> +<span>And the love that he sware 'neath the earth-yoke with thine hope may intertwine."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then the wrath from the Niblung slippeth and the shame that anger hath bred,<br /></span> +<span>And the heavy wings of the dreamtide flit over Gunnar's head:<br /></span> +<span>But he doth by his brother's bidding, and Sigurd's hand he takes,<br /></span> +<span>And he looks in the eyes of the Volsung, though scarce in the desert he wakes.<br /></span> +<span>There Hogni sits in the saddle aloof from the King's desire,<br /></span> +<span>And little his lips are moving, as he stares on the rolling fire,<br /></span> +<span>And mutters the spells of his mother, and the words she bade him say:<br /></span> +<span>But the craft of the kings of aforetime on those Kings of the battle lay;<br /></span> +<span>Dark night was spread behind them, and the fire flared up before,<br /></span> +<span>And unheard was the wind of the wasteland mid the white flame's wavering roar.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Long Sigurd gazeth on Gunnar, till he sees, as through a cloud,<br /></span> +<span>The long black locks of the Niblung, and the King's face set and proud:<br /></span> +<span>Then the face is alone on the dark, and the dusky Niblung mail<br /></span><a name='Page_116'></a> +<span>Is nought but the night before him: then whiles will the visage fail,<br /></span> +<span>And grow again as he gazeth, black hair and gleaming eyes,<br /></span> +<span>And fade again into nothing, as for more of vision he tries:<br /></span> +<span>Then all is nought but the night, yea the waste of an emptier thing,<br /></span> +<span>And the fire-wall Sigurd forgetteth, nor feeleth the hand of the King:<br /></span> +<span>Nay, what is it now he remembereth? it is nought that aforetime he knew,<br /></span> +<span>And no world is there left him to live in, and no deed to rejoice in or rue;<br /></span> +<span>But frail and alone he fareth, and as one in the sphere-stream's drift,<br /></span> +<span>By the starless empty places that lie beyond the lift:<br /></span> +<span>Then at last is he stayed in his drifting, and he saith, It is blind and dark;<br /></span> +<span>Yet he feeleth the earth at his feet, and there cometh a change and a spark,<br /></span> +<span>And away in an instant of time is the mirk of the dreamland rolled,<br /></span> +<span>And there is the fire-lit midnight, and before him an image of gold,<br /></span> +<span>A man in the raiment of Gods, nor fashioned worser than they:<br /></span> +<span>Full sad he gazeth on Sigurd from the great wide eyes and grey;<br /></span> +<span>And the Helm that Aweth the people is set on the golden hair,<br /></span> +<span>And the Mail of Gold enwraps him, and the Wrath in his hand is bare.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Sigurd looks on his arm and his hand in his brother's hand,<br /></span> +<span>And thereon is the dark grey mail-gear well forged in the southern land;<br /></span> +<span>Then he looks on the sword that he beareth, and, lo, the eager blade<br /></span> +<span>That leaps in the hand of Gunnar when the kings are waxen afraid;<br /></span> +<span>And he turns his face o'er his shoulder, and the raven-locks hang down<br /></span> +<span>From the dark-blue helm of the Dwarf-folk, and the rings of the Niblung crown.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then a red flush riseth against him in the face ne'er seen before,<br /></span> +<span>Save dimly in the mirror or the burnished targe of war,<br /></span> +<span>And the foster-brethren sunder, and the clasped hands fall apart;<br /></span> +<span>But a change cometh over Sigurd, and the fierce pride leaps in his heart;<br /></span><a name='Page_117'></a> +<span>He knoweth the soul of Gunnar, and the shaping of his mind;<br /></span> +<span>He seeketh the words of Sigurd, and Gunnar's voice doth he find,<br /></span> +<span>As he cries: "I know thy bidding; let the world be lief or loth,<br /></span> +<span>The child is unborn that shall hearken how Sigurd rued his oath!<br /></span> +<span>Well fare thou brother Gunnar! what deed shall I do this eve<br /></span> +<span>That I shall never repent of, that thine heart shall never grieve?<br /></span> +<span>What deed shall I do this even that none else may bring to the birth,<br /></span> +<span>Nay, not the King of the Niblungs, and the lord of the best of the earth?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>The flames rolled up to the heavens, and the stars behind were bright,<br /></span> +<span>Dark Hogni sat on his war-steed, and stared out into the night,<br /></span> +<span>And there stood Gunnar the King in Sigurd's semblance wrapped,<br /></span> +<span>—As Sigurd walking in slumber, for in Grimhild's guile was he lapped,<br /></span> +<span>That his heart forgat his glory, and the ways of Odin's lords,<br /></span> +<span>And the thought was frozen within him, and the might of spoken words.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But Sigurd leapeth on Greyfell, and the sword in his hand is bare,<br /></span> +<span>And the gold spurs flame on his heels, and the fire-blast lifteth his hair;<br /></span> +<span>Forth Greyfell bounds rejoicing, and they see the grey wax red,<br /></span> +<span>As unheard the war-gear clasheth, and the flames meet over his head,<br /></span> +<span>Yet a while they see him riding, as through the rye men ride,<br /></span> +<span>When the word goes forth in the summer of the kings by the ocean-side;<br /></span> +<span>But the fires were slaked before him and the wild-fire burned no more<br /></span> +<span>Than the ford of the summer waters when the rainy time is o'er.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Not once turned Sigurd aback, nor looked o'er the ashy ring,<br /></span> +<span>To the midnight wilderness drear and the spell-drenched Niblung King:<br /></span> +<span>But he stayed and looked before him, and lo, a house high-built<br /></span> +<span>With its roof of the red gold beaten, and its wall-stones over-gilt:<br /></span> +<span>So he leapt adown from Greyfell, and came to that fair abode,<br /></span><a name='Page_118'></a> +<span>And dark in the gear of the Niblungs through the gleaming door he strode:<br /></span> +<span>All light within was that dwelling, and a marvellous hall it was,<br /></span> +<span>But of gold were its hangings woven, and its pillars gleaming as glass,<br /></span> +<span>And Sigurd said in his heart, it was wrought erewhile for a God:<br /></span> +<span>But he looked athwart and endlong as alone its floor he trod,<br /></span> +<span>And lo, on the height of the daïs is upreared a graven throne,<br /></span> +<span>And thereon a woman sitting in the golden place alone;<br /></span> +<span>Her face is fair and awful, and a gold crown girdeth her head;<br /></span> +<span>And a sword of the kings she beareth, and her sun-bright hair is shed<br /></span> +<span>O'er the laps of the snow-white linen that ripples adown to her feet:<br /></span> +<span>As a swan on the billow unbroken ere the firth and the ocean meet,<br /></span> +<span>On the dark-blue cloths she sitteth, in the height of the golden place,<br /></span> +<span>Nor breaketh the hush of the hall, though her eyes be set on his face.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now he sees this is even the woman of whom the tale hath been told,<br /></span> +<span>E'en she that was wrought for the Niblungs, the bride ordained from of old,<br /></span> +<span>And hushed in the hall he standeth, and a long while looks in her eyes,<br /></span> +<span>And the word he hath shapen for Gunnar to his lips may never arise.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>The man in Gunnar's semblance looked long and knew no deed;<br /></span> +<span>And she looked, and her eyes were dreadful, and none would help her need.<br /></span> +<span>Then the image of Gunnar trembled, and the flesh of the War-King shrank;<br /></span> +<span>For he heard her voice on the silence, and his heart of her anguish drank:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"King, King, who art thou that comest, thou lord of the cloudy gear?<br /></span> +<span>What deed for the weary-hearted shall thy strange hands fashion here?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>The speech of her lips pierced through him like the point of the bitter sword,<br /></span> +<span>And he deemed that death were better than another spoken word;<br /></span> +<span>But he clencheth his hand on the war-blade, and setteth his face as the brass,<br /></span><a name='Page_119'></a> +<span>And the voice of his brother Gunnar from out his lips doth pass:<br /></span> +<span>"When thou lookest on me, O Goddess, thou seest Gunnar the King,<br /></span> +<span>The King and the lord of the Niblungs, and the chief of their warfaring.<br /></span> +<span>But art thou indeed that Brynhild of whom is the rumour and fame,<br /></span> +<span>That she bideth the coming of kings to ride her Wavering Flame,<br /></span> +<span>Lest she wed the little-hearted, and the world grow evil and vile?<br /></span> +<span>For if thou be none other I will speak again in a while."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>She said: "Art thou Gunnar the Stranger! O art thou the man that I see?<br /></span> +<span>Yea, verily I am Brynhild; what other is like unto me?<br /></span> +<span>O men of the Earth behold me! hast thou seen, O labouring Earth,<br /></span> +<span>Such sorrow as my sorrow, or such evil as my birth?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then spake the Wildfire's Trampler that Gunnar's image bore:<br /></span> +<span>"O Brynhild, mighty of women, be thou glorious evermore!<br /></span> +<span>Thou seest Gunnar the Niblung, as he sits mid the Niblung lords,<br /></span> +<span>And rides with the gods of battle in the fore-front of the swords."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Hard rang his voice in the hall, and a while she spake no word,<br /></span> +<span>And there stood the Image of Gunnar, and leaned on his bright blue sword:<br /></span> +<span>But at last she cried from the high-seat: "If I yet am alive and awake,<br /></span> +<span>I know no words for the speaking, nor what answer I may make."<br /></span> +<span>She ceased and he answered nothing; and a hush on the hall there lay<br /></span> +<span>And the moon slipped over the windows as he clomb the heavenly way;<br /></span> +<span>And no whit stirred the raiment of Brynhild: till she hearkened the Wooer's voice,<br /></span> +<span>As he said: "Thou art none of the women that swear and forswear and rejoice,<br /></span> +<span>Forgetting the sorrow of kings and the Gods and the labouring earth.<br /></span> +<span>Thou shall wed with King Gunnar the Niblung and increase his worth with thy worth."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'><a name='Page_120'></a> +<span>So spake he in semblance of Gunnar, and from off his hand he drew<br /></span> +<span>A ring of the spoils of the Southland, a marvel seen but of few,<br /></span> +<span>And he set the ring on her finger, and she turned to her lord and spake:<br /></span> +<span>"I thank thee, King, for thy goodwill, and thy pledge of love I take.<br /></span> +<span>Depart with my troth to thy people: but ere full ten days are o'er<br /></span> +<span>I shall come to the Sons of the Niblungs, and then shall we part no more<br /></span> +<span>Till the day of the change of our life-days, when Odin and Freyia shall call.<br /></span> +<span>Lo, here, my gift of the morning! 'twas my dearest treasure of all;<br /></span> +<span>But thou art become its master, and for thee was it fore-ordained,<br /></span> +<span>Since thou art the man of mine oath and the best that the earth hath gained."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>And lo, 'twas the Grief of Andvari, and the lack that made him loth,<br /></span> +<span>The last of the God-folk's ransom, the Ring of Hindfell's oath;<br /></span> +<span>Now on Sigurd's hand it shineth, and long he looketh thereon,<br /></span> +<span>But it gave him back no memories of the days that were bygone.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So forth from the hall goes the Wooer, and slow and slow he goes,<br /></span> +<span>As a conquered king from his city fares forth to meet his foes;<br /></span> +<span>And he taketh the reins of Greyfell, nor yet will back him there,<br /></span> +<span>But afoot through the cold slaked ashes of yester-eve doth fare,<br /></span> +<span>With his eyes cast down to the earth; till he heareth the wind, and a cry,<br /></span> +<span>And raiseth a face brow-knitted and beholdeth men anigh,<br /></span> +<span>And beholdeth Hogni the King set grey on his coal-black steed,<br /></span> +<span>And beholdeth the image of Sigurd, the King in the golden weed:<br /></span> +<span>Then he stayeth and stareth astonished and setteth his hand to his sword;<br /></span> +<span>Till Hogni cries from his saddle, and his word is a kindly word:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Hail, brother, the King of the people! hail, helper of my kin!<br /></span> +<span>Again from the death and the trouble great gifts hast thou set thee to win<br /></span><a name='Page_121'></a> +<span>For thy friends and the Niblung children, and hast crowned thine earthly fame,<br /></span> +<span>And increased thine exceeding glory and the sound of thy lovèd name."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Nought Sigurd spake in answer but looked straight forth with a frown,<br /></span> +<span>And stretched out his hand to Gunnar, as one that claimeth his own.<br /></span> +<span>Then no word speaketh Gunnar, but taketh his hand in his hand,<br /></span> +<span>And they look in the eyes of each other, and a while in the desert they stand<br /></span> +<span>Till the might of Grimhild prevaileth, and the twain are as yester-morn;<br /></span> +<span>But sad was the golden Sigurd, though his eyes knew nought of scorn;<br /></span> +<span>And he spake:</span> +<span class='i4'>"It is finished, O Gunnar! and I will that our brotherhood<br /></span> +<span>May endure through the good and the evil as it sprang in the days of the good:<br /></span> +<span>But I bid thee look to the ending, that the deed I did yest'reve<br /></span> +<span>Bear nought for me to repent of, for thine heart of hearts to grieve.<br /></span> +<span>Thou art troth-plight, O King of the Niblungs, to Brynhild Queen of the earth,<br /></span> +<span>She hath sworn thine heart to cherish and increase thy worth with her worth:<br /></span> +<span>She shall come to the house of Gunnar ere ten days are past and o'er;<br /></span> +<span>And thenceforth the life of Brynhild shall part from thy life no more,<br /></span> +<span>Till the doom of our kind shall speed you, and Odin and Freyia shall call,<br /></span> +<span>And ye bide the Day of the Battle, and the uttermost changing of all."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>The praise and thanks they gave him! the words of love they spake!<br /></span> +<span>The tale that the world should hear of, deeds done for Sigurd's sake!<br /></span> +<span>They were lovely might you hear them: but they lack; for in very deed<br /></span> +<span>Their sound was clean forgotten in the day of Sigurd's need.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So that night in the hall of the ancient they hold high-tide again,<br /></span><a name='Page_122'></a> +<span>And the Gods on the Southland hangings smile out full fair and fain,<br /></span> +<span>And the song goes up of Sigurd, and the praise of his fame fulfilled,<br /></span> +<span>But his speech in the dead sleep lieth, and the words of his wisdom are chilled:<br /></span> +<span>And men say, the King is careful, for he thinks of the people's weal,<br /></span> +<span>And his heart is afraid for our trouble, lest the Gods our joyance steal.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But that night, when the feast was over, to Gudrun Sigurd came,<br /></span> +<span>And she noted the ring on his finger, and she knew it was nowise the same<br /></span> +<span>As the ring he was wont to carry; so she bade him tell thereof:<br /></span> +<span>Then he turned unto her kindly, and his words were words of love;<br /></span> +<span>Nor his life nor his death he heeded, but told her last night's tale:<br /></span> +<span>Yea, he drew forth the sword for his slaying, and whetted the edges of bale;<br /></span> +<span>For he took that Gold of Andvari, that Curse of the uttermost land,<br /></span> +<span>And he spake as a king that loveth, and set it on her hand;<br /></span> +<span>But her heart was exceeding joyous, as he kissed her sweet and soft,<br /></span> +<span>And bade her bear it for ever, that she might remember him oft<br /></span> +<span>When his hand from the world was departed and he sat in Odin's home.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p><i>How Brynhild was wedded to Gunnar the Niblung.</i></p> + +<p>So ten days wore over, and on the morrow-morn the folk were all astir +in the Niblung house, till the watchers on the towers cried to them +tidings of a goodly company drawing nigh upon the road. Then the +Niblungs got them to horse in glittering-gay raiment and went forth to +meet the people of Brynhild.</p> + +<p>First rode bands of maidens arrayed in fine linen and blue-broidered +cloaks, and after them came a golden wain with horses of snowy white and +bench-cloths of blue, and therein sat Brynhild alone, clad in swan-white +raiment and crowned with gold. Then <a name='Page_123'></a>they hailed her sweet and goodly, and +so she entered the darksome gate-way and came within the Niblung Burg.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>So fair in the sun of the forecourt doth Brynhild's wain shine bright,<br /></span> +<span>And the huge hall riseth before her, and the ernes cry out from its height,<br /></span> +<span>And there by the door of the Niblungs she sees huge warriors stand,<br /></span> +<span>Dark-clad, by the shoulders greater than the best of any land,<br /></span> +<span>And she knoweth the chiefs of the Niblungs, the dreaded dukes of war:<br /></span> +<span>But one in cloudy raiment stands a very midst the door,<br /></span> +<span>And ruddy and bright is his visage, and his black locks wave in the wind,<br /></span> +<span>And she knoweth the King of the Niblungs and the man she came to find:<br /></span> +<span>Then nought she lingered nor loitered, but stepped to the earth adown<br /></span> +<span>With right-hand reached to the War-God, the wearer of the crown;<br /></span> +<span>And she said:<br /></span> +<span class='i4'>"I behold thee, Gunnar, the King of War that rode<br /></span> +<span>Through the waves of the Flickering Fire to the door of mine abode,<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"And for this I needs must deem thee the best of all men born,<br /></span> +<span>The highest-hearted, the greatest, the staunchest of thy love:<br /></span> +<span>And that such the world yet holdeth, my heart is fain thereof:<br /></span> +<span>And for thee I deem was I fashioned, and for thee the oath I swore<br /></span> +<span>In the days of my glory and wisdom, ere the days of youth were o'er.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"May the fire ne'er stay thy glory, nor the ocean-flood thy fame!<br /></span> +<span>Through ages of all ages may the wide world praise thy name!<br /></span> +<span>Yea, oft may the word be spoken when low we lie at rest;<br /></span> +<span>'It befell in the days of Gunnar, the happiest and the best!'<br /></span> +<span>All this may the high Gods give thee, and thereto a gift I give,<br /></span> +<span>The body of Queen Brynhild so long as both we live."<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class='stanza'> +<span>With unmoved face, unfaltering, the blessing-words she said,<br /></span> +<span>But the joy sprang up in Gunnar and increased his goodlihead,<br /></span><a name='Page_124'></a> +<span>And he cast his arms about her and kissed her on the mouth,<br /></span> +<span>And he said:<br /></span> +<span class='i4'>"The gift is greater than all treasure of the south;<br /></span> +<span>As glad as my heart this moment, so glad may be thy life,<br /></span> +<span>And the world be never weary of the joy of Gunnar's wife!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>She spake no word, and smiled not, but she held his hand henceforth.<br /></span> +<span>And he said; "Now take the greetings of my men, the most of worth."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then she turned her face to the war-dukes, and hearkened to their praise,<br /></span> +<span>And she spake in few words sweetly, and blessed their coming days.<br /></span> +<span>Then again spake Gunnar and said: "Lo, Hogni my brother is this;<br /></span> +<span>But Guttorm is far on the East-seas, and seeketh the warrior's bliss;<br /></span> +<span>A third there is of my brethren, and my house holds none so great;<br /></span> +<span>In the hall by the side of my sister thy face doth he await."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then Brynhild gave fair greeting to Hogni, but anon she turned and +questioned Gunnar of his words concerning that brother who awaited her +in the hall. "I deemed the sons of Giuki had been but three," said +Brynhild. "This fourth, this hall-abider the mighty,—is he akin to +thee?"</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>And Gunnar answered:<br /></span> +<span class='i8'>"He is nought of our blood,<br /></span> +<span>But the Gods have sent him to usward to work us measureless good:<br /></span> +<span>It is even Sigurd the Volsung, the best man ever born,<br /></span> +<span>The man that the Gods withstand not, my friend, and my brother sworn."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>She heard the name, and she changed not, but her feet went forth as he led,<br /></span> +<span>And under the cloudy roof-tree Queen Brynhild bowed her head.<br /></span> +<span>Then, were there a man so ancient as had lived beyond his peers<br /></span> +<span>On the earth, that beareth all things, a twice-told tale of years,<br /></span><a name='Page_125'></a> +<span>He had heard no sound so mighty as the shout that shook the wall<br /></span> +<span>When Brynhild's feet unhearkened first trod the Niblung hall.<br /></span> +<span>No whit the clamour stirred her; but her godlike eyes she raised<br /></span> +<span>And betwixt the hedge of the earl-folk on the golden high-seat gazed,<br /></span> +<span>And the man that sat by Gudrun: but e'en as the rainless cloud<br /></span> +<span>Ere the first of the tempest ariseth the latter sun doth shroud,<br /></span> +<span>And men look round and shudder, so Grimhild came between<br /></span> +<span>The silent golden Sigurd and the eyes of the mighty Queen,<br /></span> +<span>And again heard Brynhild greeting, and again she spake and said:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"O Mother of the Niblungs, such hap be on thine head,<br /></span> +<span>As thy love for me, the stranger, was past the pain of words!<br /></span> +<span>Mayst thou see thy son's sons glorious in the meeting of the swords!<br /></span> +<span>Mayst thou sleep and doubt thee nothing of the fortunes of thy race!<br /></span> +<span>Mayst thou hear folk call yon high-seat the earth's most happy place!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then the Wise-wife hushed before her, and a little fell aside,<br /></span> +<span>And nought from the eyes of Brynhild the high-seat now did hide;<br /></span> +<span>And the face so long desired, unchanged from time agone,<br /></span> +<span>In the house of the Cloudy People from the Niblung high-seat shone:<br /></span> +<span>She stood with her hand in Gunnar's, and all about and around<br /></span> +<span>Were the unfamiliar faces, and the folk that day had found;<br /></span> +<span>But her heart ran back through the years, and yet her lips did move<br /></span> +<span>With the words she spake on Hindfell, when they plighted troth of love.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Lo, Sigurd fair on the high-seat by the white-armed Gudrun's side,<br /></span> +<span>In the midst of the Cloudy People, in the dwelling of their pride!<br /></span> +<span>His face is exceeding glorious and awful to behold;<br /></span> +<span>For of all his sorrow he knoweth and his hope smit dead and cold:<br /></span> +<span>The will of the Norns is accomplished, and, lo, they wend on their ways,<br /></span> +<span>And leave the mighty Sigurd to deal with the latter days:<br /></span> +<span>The Gods look down from heaven, and the lonely King they see,<br /></span> +<span>And sorrow over his sorrow, and rejoice in his majesty.<br /></span><a name='Page_126'></a> +<span>For the will of the Norns is accomplished, and outworn is Grimhild's spell,<br /></span> +<span>And nought now shall blind or help him, and the tale shall be to tell:<br /></span> +<span>He hath seen the face of Brynhild, and he knows why she hath come,<br /></span> +<span>And that his is the hand that hath drawn her to the Cloudy People's home:<br /></span> +<span>He knows of the net of the days, and the deeds that the Gods have bid,<br /></span> +<span>And no whit of the sorrow that shall be from his wakened soul is hid:<br /></span> +<span>And his glory his heart restraineth, and restraineth the hand of the strong<br /></span> +<span>From the hope of the fools of desire and the wrong that amendeth wrong.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>And Brynhild's face drew near him with eyes grown stern and strange.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now she stands on the floor of the high-seat, and for e'en so little a space<br /></span> +<span>As men may note delaying, she looketh on Sigurd's face,<br /></span> +<span>Ere she saith:<br /></span> +<span class='i4'>"I have greeted many in the Niblungs' house today,<br /></span> +<span>And for thee is the last of my greetings ere the feast shall wear away:<br /></span> +<span>Hail, Sigurd, son of the Volsungs! hail, lord of Odin's storm!<br /></span> +<span>Hail, rider of the wasteland and slayer of the Worm!<br /></span> +<span>If aught thy soul shall desire while yet thou livest on earth,<br /></span> +<span>I pray that thou mayst win it, nor forget its might and worth."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>All grief, sharp scorn, sore longing, stark death in her voice he knew,<br /></span> +<span>But gone forth is the doom of the Norns, and what shall he answer thereto,<br /></span> +<span>While the death that amendeth lingers? and they twain shall dwell for awhile<br /></span> +<span>In the Niblung house together by the hearth that forged the guile.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So he spake as a King of the people in whom all fear is dead,<br /></span> +<span>And his anguish no man noted, as the greeting-words he said:<br /></span><a name='Page_127'></a> +<span>"Hail, fairest of all things fashioned! hail, thou desire of eyes!<br /></span> +<span>Hail, chooser of the mightiest, and teacher of the wise!<br /></span> +<span>Hail, wife of my brother Gunnar! in might may thy days endure,<br /></span> +<span>And in peace without a trouble that the world's weal may be sure!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But the song sprang up in the hall, and the eagles cried from above<br /></span> +<span>And forth to the freshness of May went the joyance of the feast:<br /></span> +<span>And Sigurd sat with the Niblungs, and gave ear to most and to least.<br /></span> +<span>And showed no sign to the people of the grief that on him lay;<br /></span> +<span>Nor seemeth he worser to any than he was on the yesterday.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of the Contention betwixt the Queens.</i></p> + +<p>So now must Sigurd and Brynhild abide together in the Burg of the +Niblungs, yet each must bear the burden of sorrow alone. Brynhild held +close converse with Gudrun, and behaved humbly towards her lest strife +should arise between them. But Gudrun, filled with pride that she was +the wife of so great a man as Sigurd, deemed it a little matter that +all others should give her honour, and knowing how Sigurd had ridden +the fire, she cherished great scorn of Gunnar and Brynhild in her +heart, and her pride waxed daily greater.</p> + +<p>Of the heart-wise Hogni men tell how he grew wiser day by day and more +learned in the craft of his mother Grimhild.</p> + +<p>As for Gunnar, he lived with Brynhild in great honour and praise from +all men, but the thought of how Sigurd had ridden the fire in his +semblance lay heavy upon him. He brooded thereon in bitterness and +envy, and the lie shadowed his life-days so that he had but small joy +in his wife.</p> + +<p>And Grimhild, marking his heavy mood, wrought upon him with cunning +words and he gave ear to her. For ever she spake of kings' supplanters +who bear away the praise from their lords after great deeds <a name='Page_128'></a>are done, +and often her talk was of the mighty power that he holdeth who knoweth +the shame of a king. So Gunnar hearkened and ill thoughts grew within +him.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>But fair-faced, calm as a God who hath none to call his foes,<br /></span> +<span>Betwixt the Kings and the people the golden Sigurd goes;<br /></span> +<span>No knowledge of man he lacketh, and the lore he gained of old<br /></span> +<span>From the ancient heart of the Serpent and the Wallower on the Gold<br /></span> +<span>Springs fresh in the soul of Sigurd; the heart of Hogni he sees,<br /></span> +<span>And the heart of his brother Gunnar, and he grieveth sore for these.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>It was most in these latter days that his fame went far abroad,<br /></span> +<span>The helper, the overcomer, the righteous sundering sword;<br /></span> +<span>The loveliest King of the King-folk, the man of sweetest speech,<br /></span> +<span>Whose ear is dull to no man that his helping shall beseech;<br /></span> +<span>The eye-bright seer of all things, that wasteth every wrong,<br /></span> +<span>The straightener of the crooked, the hammer of the strong:<br /></span> +<span>Lo, such was the Son of Sigmund in the days whereof I tell,<br /></span> +<span>The dread of the doom and the battle; and all children loved him well.<br /></span> + +</div></div> + +<p>Now Gudrun's scorn of Brynhild waxed greater as she thought on the +knowledge that she held, and it needed but a little that she should +speak out the whole tale.</p> + +<p>Such was her mind when it befell her to go with Brynhild to bathe in +the Niblung river. There it chanced that they fell to talk of their +husbands, and Gudrun named Sigurd the best of the world. Thereat +Brynhild, stung by her love for Sigurd and the memory of his broken +troth,—for so she deemed it,—cried out, saying: "Thy lord is but +Gunnar's serving man to do his bidding, but my mate is the King of +King-folk, who rode the Wavering Fire and hath dared very death to +win me."</p> + +<p>Then Gudrun held out her hand and a golden gleam shone on her finger, +at the sight whereof Brynhild waxed wan as a dead woman. "<a name='Page_129'></a>Lo," said +Gudrun, "I had Andvari's ring of Sigurd, and indeed thou sayest truly, +that he did Gunnar's bidding, for he took the King's semblance and hid +his own shape in Gunnar's. Thus he wooed the bride for Gunnar and for +Gunnar rode the fire, and now by this token mayest thou know whether +thy husband is truly the best of Kings." And Brynhild spake no word in +answer, but clad herself in haste and fled from the river, and Gudrun +followed her in triumph of heart.</p> + +<p>Yet as the day wore on she repented of her words and feared the deeds +that Brynhild might do, and at even she sought her alone and craved +pardon. Then spake Brynhild the Queen: "I repent me of my bitter words +this day, yet one thing I beseech thee,—do thou say that thou hadst +the ring of Gunnar and not of Sigurd, lest I be shamed before all +men." "What?" said Gudrun; "hast thou heard that the wives of the +Niblungs lie? Nay, Sigurd it was who set this ring on my finger and +therewith he told me the shame of my brother Gunnar,—how his glory +was turned to a scoff."</p> + +<p>And Brynhild seeing that the tale of the deceiving wrought against her +might not be hidden, lifted her voice and cursed the house of the +Niblungs wherein she had suffered such woe. So the queens parted in +great wrath and bitterness.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of the exceeding great grief and mourning of Brynhild.</i></p> + +<p>Now on the morrow it was known that Brynhild was sick, nor would she +reveal the cause to any. Then Gunnar besought her to be comforted and +to show what ailed her, but for a long while he might win no word in +answer. Thereat the evil thoughts that Grimhild had sown in his heart +grew strong, and he cried in bitter anger: "Lo, Brynhild, I deem thou +art sick for love of my foe, the <a name='Page_130'></a>supplanter of Kings, he who hath +shone like a serpent this long while past amidst the honour of our +kin."</p> + +<p>Then at last was Brynhild moved to look on him, and she besought him, +saying: "Swear to me, Gunnar, that I may live, and say that thou +gavest Andvari's ring to Gudrun—thou, and not thy captain of war." +Thereby Gunnar understood that all his falsehood was known to her, so +that never again might they two have any joy together. He had no +answering word, but turned from her and departed, for bitter shame was +come on him and hatred of Sigurd burnt in his soul like fire.</p> + +<p>Then as evening drew on, boding of evil fell on Gudrun, and she +sought her brothers that they might plead with Brynhild to pardon her +and forget her bitter taunts.</p> + +<p>But Gunnar she found seated alone arrayed in his war-gear and on his +knees lay his sword, neither would he hear any word of further +pleading with Brynhild.</p> + +<p>Then sought she Hogni, and behold, he was in the like guise, and sat +as one that waits for a foe. So she sped to Sigurd, but chill fear +fell on her beholding him, for he was dight in the Helm of Aweing and +his golden hauberk, and the Wrath lay on his knees, neither would he +then speak to Brynhild.</p> + +<p>So that heavy night passed away and there was but little sleep in the +abode of the Niblungs. And with the dawn Sigurd arose and sought +Brynhild's chamber where she lay as one dead. Like a pillar of light +he stood in the sunshine and the Wrath rattled by his side. And +Brynhild looked on him and said: "Art thou come to behold me? +Thou—the mightiest and the worst of my betrayers." Then for very +grief the breast of Sigurd heaved so that the rings of his byrny burst +asunder and he cried: "O live, Brynhild beloved! For hereafter shalt +thou know of the snare and the lie that entrapped us and the +measureless grief of my soul." "It is o'erlate," said Brynhild, "<a name='Page_131'></a>for I +may live no longer and the gods have forgotten the earth." And in such +despair must he leave her.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of the slaying of Sigurd the Volsung.</i></p> + +<p>Then at high noon Brynhild sent for Gunnar and sought to whet him to +the slaying of Sigurd, for to such hatred was her love turned.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>"I look upon thee," said Brynhild, "I know thy race and thy name,<br /></span> +<span>Yet meseems the deed thou sparest, to amend thine evil and shame."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Nought, nought," he said, "may amend it, save the hungry eyeless sword,<br /></span> +<span>And the war without hope or honour, and the strife without reward."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Thou hast spoken the word," said Brynhild, "if the word is enough, it is well.<br /></span> +<span>Let us eat and drink and be merry, that all men of our words may tell!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"O all-wise woman," said Gunnar, "what deed lieth under the tongue?<br /></span> +<span>What day for the dearth of the people, when the seed of thy sowing hath sprung?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>She said: "Our garment is Shame, and nought the web shall rend,<br /></span> +<span>Save the day without repentance, and the deed that nought may amend."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Speak, mighty of women," said Gunnar, "and cry out the name and the deed<br /></span> +<span>That the ends of the Earth may hearken, and the Niblungs' grievous Need."<br /></span><a name='Page_132'></a> +<span>"To slay," she said, "is the deed, to slay a King ere the morn,<br /></span> +<span>And the name is Sigurd the Volsung, my love and thy brother sworn."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>She turned and departed from him, and he knew not whither she went;<br /></span> +<span>But he took his sword from the girdle and the peace-strings round it rent,<br /></span> +<span>And into the house he gat him, and the sunlit fair abode,<br /></span> +<span>But his heart in the mid-mirk waded, as through the halls he strode,<br /></span> +<span>Till he came to a chamber apart; and Grimhild his mother was there,<br /></span> +<span>And there was his brother Hogni in the cloudy Niblung gear:<br /></span> +<span>Him-seemed there was silence between them as of them that have spoken, and wait<br /></span> +<span>Till the words of their mouths be accomplished by slow unholpen Fate:<br /></span> +<span>But they turned to the door, and beheld him, and he took his sheathèd sword<br /></span> +<span>And cast it adown betwixt them, and it clashed half bare on the board,<br /></span> +<span>And Grimhild spake as it clattered: "For whom are the peace-strings rent?<br /></span> +<span>For whom is the blood-point whetted and the edge of thine intent?"<br /></span> +<span>He said: "For the heart of Sigurd; and thus all is rent away<br /></span> +<span>Betwixt this word and his slaying, save a little hour of day."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Again spake Grimhild the wise-wife: "Where then is Guttorm the brave?<br /></span> +<span>For he blent not his blood with the Volsung's, nor his oath to Sigurd gave,<br /></span> +<span>Nor called on Earth to witness, nor went beneath the yoke;<br /></span> +<span>And now is he Sigurd's foeman; and who may curse his stroke?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Hogni laughed and answered: "His feet on the threshold stand:<br /></span> +<span>Forged is thy sword, O Mother, and its hilts are come to hand.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Ho, Guttorm, enter, and hearken to the counsel of the wise!"<br /></span><a name='Page_133'></a> +<span>Then in through the door strode Guttorm fair-clad in hunter's guise,<br /></span> +<span>With no steel save his wood-knife girded; but his war-fain eyes stared wild,<br /></span> +<span>As he spake: "What words are ye hiding from the youngest Niblung child?<br /></span> +<span>What work is to win, my brethren, that ye sit in warrior's weed,<br /></span> +<span>And tell me nought of the glory, and cover up the deed?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then uprose Grimhild the wise-wife, and took the cup again;<br /></span> +<span>Night-long had she brewed that witch-drink and laboured not in vain.<br /></span> +<span>For therein was the creeping venom, and hearts of things that prey<br /></span> +<span>On the hidden lives of ocean, and never look on day;<br /></span> +<span>And the heart of the ravening wood-wolf and the hunger-blinded beast<br /></span> +<span>And the spent slaked heart of the wild-fire the guileful cup increased:<br /></span> +<span>But huge words of ancient evil about its rim were scored,<br /></span> +<span>The curse and the eyeless craving of the first that fashioned sword.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So the cup in her hand was gleaming, as she turned unto Guttorm and spake:<br /></span> +<span>"Be merry, King of the War-fain! we hold counsel for thy sake:<br /></span> +<span>The work is a God's son's slaying, and thine is the hand that shall smite,<br /></span> +<span>That thy name may be set in, glory and thy deeds live on in light."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Forth flashed the flame from his eyen, and he cried: "Where then is the foe,<br /></span> +<span>This dread of mine house and my brethren, that my hand may lay him alow?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Drink, son," she said, "and be merry! and I shall tell his name,<br /></span> +<span>Whose death shall crown thy life-days, and increase thy fame with his fame."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>He drinketh and craveth for battle, and his hand for a sword doth seek,<br /></span> +<span>And he looketh about on his brethren, but his lips no word may speak;<br /></span> +<span>They speak the name, and he hears not, and again he drinks of the cup<br /></span><a name='Page_134'></a> +<span>And knows not friend nor kindred, and the wrath in his heart wells up,<br /></span> +<span>That no God may bear unmingled, and he cries a wordless cry,<br /></span> +<span>As the last of the day is departing and the dusk time drawing anigh.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Grimhild goes from the chamber, and bringeth his harness of war,<br /></span> +<span>And therewith they array his body, and he drinketh the cup once more,<br /></span> +<span>And his heart is set on the murder, and now may he understand<br /></span> +<span>What soul is dight for the slaying, and what quarry is for his hand.<br /></span> +<span>For again they tell him of Sigurd, and the man he remembereth,<br /></span> +<span>And praiseth his mighty name and his deeds that laughed on death.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now dusk and dark draw over, and through the glimmering house<br /></span> +<span>They go to the place of the Niblungs, the high hall and glorious;<br /></span> +<span>For hard by is the chamber of Sigurd: there dight in their harness of war<br /></span> +<span>In their thrones sit Gunnar and Hogni, but Guttorm stands on the floor<br /></span> +<span>With his blue blade naked before them: the torches flare from the wall<br /></span> +<span>And the woven God-folk waver, but the hush is deep in the hall,<br /></span> +<span>And those Niblung faces change not, though the slow moon slips from her height<br /></span> +<span>And earth is acold ere dawning, and new winds shake the night.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now it was in the earliest dawn-dusk that Guttorm stirred in his place,<br /></span> +<span>And the mail-rings tinkled upon him, as he turned his helm-hid face,<br /></span> +<span>And went forth from the hall and the high-seat; but the Kings sat still in their pride<br /></span> +<span>And hearkened the clash of his going and heeded how it died.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Slow, all alone goeth Guttorm to Sigurd's chamber door,<br /></span> +<span>And all is open before him, and the white moon lies on the floor<br /></span> +<span>And the bed where Sigurd lieth with Gudrun on his breast,<br /></span><a name='Page_135'></a> +<span>And light comes her breath from her bosom in the joy of infinite rest.<br /></span> +<span>Then Guttorm stands on the threshold, and his heart of the murder is fain,<br /></span> +<span>And he thinks of the deeds of Sigurd, and praiseth his greatness and gain;<br /></span> +<span>Bright blue is his blade in the moonlight—but lo, how Sigurd lies,<br /></span> +<span>As the carven dead that die not, with fair wide-open eyes;<br /></span> +<span>And their glory gleameth on Guttorm, and the hate in his heart is chilled,<br /></span> +<span>And he shrinketh aback from the threshold and knoweth not what he willed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Thereon he turned him again to the hall, and the Kings beheld his +unstained sword in the torch-light, but they cast him never a word. +Then shame and wrath urged him and he wended the second time to +Sigurd's chamber, but yet again the dread eyes of the Volsung were +open and he fled from their light to his biding brethren.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now dieth moon and candle, and though the day be nigh<br /></span> +<span>The roof of the hall fair-builded seems far aloof as the sky,<br /></span> +<span>But a glimmer grows on the pavement and the ernes on the roof-ridge stir:<br /></span> +<span>Then the brethren hist and hearken, for a sound of feet they hear,<br /></span> +<span>And into the hall of the Niblungs a white thing cometh apace:<br /></span> +<span>But the sword of Guttorm upriseth, and he wendeth from his place,<br /></span> +<span>And the clash of steel goes with him; yet loud as it may sound<br /></span> +<span>Still more they hear those footsteps light-falling on the ground,<br /></span> +<span>And the hearts of the Niblungs waver, and their pride is smitten acold,<br /></span> +<span>For they look on that latest comer, and Brynhild they behold:<br /></span> +<span>But she sits by their side in silence, and heeds them nothing more<br /></span> +<span>Than the grey soft-footed morning heeds yester-even's war.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But Guttorm clashed in the cloisters and through the silence strode<br /></span> +<span>And scarce on the threshold of Sigurd a little while abode;<br /></span><a name='Page_136'></a> +<span>There the moon from the floor hath departed and heaven without is grey,<br /></span> +<span>And afar in the eastern quarter faint glimmer streaks of day.<br /></span> +<span>Close over the head of Sigurd the Wrath gleams wan and bare,<br /></span> +<span>And the Niblung woman stirreth, and her brow is knit with fear;<br /></span> +<span>But the King's closed eyes are hidden, loose lie his empty hands,<br /></span> +<span>There is nought 'twixt the sword of the slayer and the Wonder of all Lands.<br /></span> +<span>Then Guttorm laughed in his war-rage, and his sword leapt up on high,<br /></span> +<span>As he sprang to the bed from the threshold and cried a wordless cry,<br /></span> +<span>And with all the might of the Niblungs through Sigurd's body thrust,<br /></span> +<span>And turned and fled from the chamber, and fell amid the dust,<br /></span> +<span>Within the door and without it, the slayer slain by the slain;<br /></span> +<span>For the cast of the sword of Sigurd had smitten his body atwain<br /></span> +<span>While yet his cry of onset through the echoing chambers went.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Woe's me! how the house of the Niblungs by another cry was rent,<br /></span> +<span>The wakening wail of Gudrun, as she shrank in the river of blood<br /></span> +<span>From the breast of the mighty Sigurd: he heard it and understood,<br /></span> +<span>And rose up on the sword of Guttorm, and turned from the country of death,<br /></span> +<span>And spake words of loving-kindness as he strove for life and breath:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Wail not, O child of the Niblungs! I am smitten, but thou shall live,<br /></span> +<span>In remembrance of our glory, mid the gifts the Gods shall give!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>She stayed her cry to hearken, and her heart well nigh stood still:<br /></span> +<span>But he spake: "Mourn not, O Gudrun, this stroke is the last of ill;<br /></span> +<span>Fear leaveth the House of the Niblungs on this breaking of the morn;<br /></span> +<span>Mayst thou live, O woman belovèd, unforsaken, unforlorn!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then he sank aback on the sword, and down to his lips she bent<br /></span> +<span>If some sound therefrom she might hearken; for his breath was well-nigh spent:<br /></span><a name='Page_137'></a> +<span>"It is Brynhild's deed," he murmured, "and the woman that loves me well;<br /></span> +<span>Nought now is left to repent of, and the tale abides to tell.<br /></span> +<span>I have done many deeds in my life-days, and all these, and my love, they lie<br /></span> +<span>In the hollow hand of Odin till the day of the world go by.<br /></span> +<span>I have done and I may not undo, I have given and I take not again:<br /></span> +<span>Art thou other than I, Allfather, wilt thou gather my glory in vain?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>There was silence then in the chamber, as the dawn spread wide and grey,<br /></span> +<span>And hushed was the hall of the Niblungs at the entering-in of day.<br /></span> +<span>Long Gudrun hung o'er the Volsung and waited the coming word;<br /></span> +<span>Then she stretched out her hand to Sigurd and touched her love and her lord,<br /></span> +<span>And the broad day fell on his visage, and she knew she was there alone,<br /></span> +<span>And her heart was wrung with anguish and she uttered a weary moan:<br /></span> +<span>Then Brynhild laughed in the hall, and the first of men's voices was that<br /></span> +<span>Since when on yester-even the kings in the high-seat had sat.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>In the house rose rumour and stir, and men stood up in the morn,<br /></span> +<span>And their hearts with doubt were shaken, as if with the Uttermost Horn:<br /></span> +<span>The cry and the calling spread, and shields clashed down from the wall,<br /></span> +<span>And swords in the chamber glittered, and men ran apace to the hall.<br /></span> +<span>Nor knew what man to question, nor who had tidings to give,<br /></span> +<span>Nor what were the days thenceforward wherein the folk should live.<br /></span> +<span>But ever the word is amongst them that Sigurd the Volsung is slain,<br /></span> +<span>And the spears in the hall were tossing as the rye in the windy plain.<br /></span> +<span>But they look aloft to the high-seat and they see the gleam of the gold:<br /></span> +<span>And Gunnar the King of battle, and Hogni wise and cold,<br /></span> +<span>And Brynhild the wonder of women; and her face is deadly pale,<br /></span><a name='Page_138'></a> +<span>And the Kings are clad in their war-gear, and bared are the edges of bale.<br /></span> +<span>Then cold fear falleth upon them, but the noise and the clamour abate,<br /></span> +<span>And they look on the war-wise Gunnar and awhile for his word they wait;<br /></span> +<span>But e'en as he riseth above them, doth a shriek through the tumult ring;<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Awake, O House of the Niblungs, for slain is Sigurd the King!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then nothing faltered Gunnar, but he stood o'er the Niblung folk,<br /></span> +<span>And over the hall woe-stricken the words of pride he spoke:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Mourn now, O Niblung people, for gone is Sigurd our guest,<br /></span> +<span>And Guttorm the King is departed, and this is our day of unrest;<br /></span> +<span>But all this of the Norns was fore-ordered, and herein is Odin's hand;<br /></span> +<span>Cast down are the mighty of men-folk, but the Niblung house shall stand:<br /></span> +<span>Mourn then today and tomorrow, but the third day waken and live,<br /></span> +<span>For the Gods died not this morning, and great gifts they have to give."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>He spake and awhile was silence, and then did the cry outbreak,<br /></span> +<span>And many there were of the Earl-folk that wept for Sigurd's sake;<br /></span> +<span>And they wept for their little children, and they wept for those unborn,<br /></span> +<span>Who should know the earth without him and the world of his worth forlorn.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So rent is the joy of the Niblungs; and their simple days and fain<br /></span> +<span>From that ancient house are departed, and who shall buy them again?<br /></span> +<span>For he, the redeemer, the helper, the crown of all their worth,<br /></span> +<span>They looked upon him and wondered, they loved, and they thrust him forth.<br /></span> +</div></div><a name='Page_139'></a> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of the mighty Grief of Gudrun over Sigurd dead.</i></p> + +<p>But as for the grief of Gudrun over Sigurd no man may tell it. Long +she lay on his body and spent herself in weeping, but at last she +arose and cursed Brynhild and Gunnar and all the Niblung house, +saying:</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>"O hearken, hearken Gunnar! May the dear Gold drag thee adown,<br /></span> +<span>And Greyfell's ruddy Burden, and the Treasure of renown,<br /></span> +<span>And the rings that ye swore the oath on! yea, if all avengers die,<br /></span> +<span>May Earth, that ye bade remember, on the blood of Sigurd cry!<br /></span> +<span>Be this land as waste as the troth-plight that the lips of fools have sworn!<br /></span> +<span>May it rain through this broken hall-roof, and snow on the hearth forlorn!<br /></span> +<span>And may no man draw anigh it to tell of the ruin and the wrack!<br /></span> +<span>Yea, may I be a mock for the idle if my feet come ever aback,<br /></span> +<span>If my heart think kind of the chambers, if mine eyes shall yearn to behold<br /></span> +<span>The fair-built house of my fathers, the house beloved of old!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And therewith Gudrun fled forever from the Burg of the Niblungs, and +none dared hinder or follow her, and none knew whither she turned for +refuge.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of the passing away of Brynhild.</i></p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>Once more on the morrow-morning fair shineth the glorious sun,<br /></span> +<span>And the Niblung children labour on a deed that shall be done.<br /></span> +<span>For out in the people's meadows they raise a bale on high,<br /></span> +<span>The oak and the ash together, and thereon shall the Mighty lie;<br /></span> +<span>Nor gold nor steel shall be lacking, nor savour of sweet spice,<br /></span> +<span>Nor cloths in the Southlands woven, nor webs of untold price;<br /></span><a name='Page_140'></a> +<span>The work grows, toil is as nothing; long blasts of the mighty horn<br /></span> +<span>From the topmost tower out-wailing o'er the woeful world are borne.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But Brynhild cried to her maidens: "Now open ark and chest,<br /></span> +<span>And draw forth queenly raiment of the loveliest and the best,<br /></span> +<span>Red rings that the Dwarf-lords fashioned, fair cloths that queens have sewed,<br /></span> +<span>To array the bride for the mighty, and the traveller for the road."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>They wept as they wrought her bidding and did on her goodliest gear;<br /></span> +<span>But she laughed mid the dainty linen, and the gold-rings fashioned fair:<br /></span> +<span>She arose from the bed of the Niblungs, and her face no more was wan;<br /></span> +<span>As a star in the dawn-tide heavens, mid the dusky house she shone:<br /></span> +<span>And they that stood about her, their hearts were raised aloft<br /></span> +<span>Amid their fear and wonder: then she spake them kind and soft:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Now give me the sword, O maidens, wherewith I sheared the wind<br /></span> +<span>When the Kings of Earth were gathered to know the Chooser's mind."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>All sheathed the maidens brought it, and feared the hidden blade,<br /></span> +<span>But the naked blue-white edges across her knees she laid,<br /></span> +<span>And spake: "The heaped-up riches, the gear my fathers left,<br /></span> +<span>All dear-bought woven wonders, all rings from battle reft,<br /></span> +<span>All goods of men desired, now strew them on the floor,<br /></span> +<span>And so share among you, maidens, the gifts of Brynhild's store."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then upright by the bed of the Niblungs for a moment doth she stand,<br /></span> +<span>And the blade flasheth bright in the chamber, but no more they hinder her hand<br /></span> +<span>Than if a God were smiting to rend the world in two:<br /></span> +<span>Then dulled are the glittering edges, and the bitter point cleaves through<br /></span> +<span>The breast of the all-wise Brynhild, and her feet from the pavement fail,<br /></span> +<span>And the sigh of her heart is hearkened mid the hush of the maidens' wail.<br /></span><a name='Page_141'></a> +<span>Chill, deep is the fear upon them, but they bring her aback to the bed,<br /></span> +<span>And her hand is yet on the hilts, and sidelong droopeth her head.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then there cometh a cry from withoutward, and Gunnar's hurrying feet<br /></span> +<span>Are swift on the kingly threshold, and Brynhild's blood they meet.<br /></span> +<span>Low down o'er the bed he hangeth and hearkeneth for her word,<br /></span> +<span>And her heavy lids are opened to look on the Niblung lord,<br /></span> +<span>And she saith:<br /></span> +<span class='i4'>"I pray thee a prayer, the last word in the world I speak,<br /></span> +<span>That ye bear me forth to Sigurd, and the hand my hand would seek;<br /></span> +<span>The bale for the dead is builded, it is wrought full wide on the plain,<br /></span> +<span>It is raised for Earth's best Helper, and thereon is room for twain:<br /></span> +<span>Ye have hung the shields about it, and the Southland hangings spread,<br /></span> +<span>There lay me adown by Sigurd and my head beside his head."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then they took the body of Brynhild in the raiment that she wore,<br /></span> +<span>And out through the gate of the Niblungs the holy corpse they bore,<br /></span> +<span>And thence forth to the mead of the people, and the high-built shielded bale;<br /></span> +<span>Then afresh in the open meadows breaks forth the women's wail<br /></span> +<span>When they see the bed of Sigurd and the glittering of his gear;<br /></span> +<span>And fresh is the wail of the people as Brynhild draweth anear,<br /></span> +<span>And the tidings go before her that for twain the bale is built,<br /></span> +<span>That for twain is the oak-wood shielded and the pleasant odours spilt.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>There is peace on the bale of Sigurd, and the Gods look down from on high,<br /></span> +<span>And they see the lids of the Volsung close shut against the sky,<br /></span> +<span>As he lies with his shield beside him in the Hauberk all of gold,<br /></span> +<span>That has not its like in the heavens, nor has earth of its fellow told;<br /></span> +<span>And forth from the Helm of Aweing are the sunbeams flashing wide,<br /></span> +<span>And the sheathed Wrath of Sigurd lies still by his mighty side.<br /></span> +<span>Then cometh an elder of days, a man of the ancient times,<br /></span> +<span>Who is long past sorrow and joy, and the steep of the bale he climbs;<br /></span><a name='Page_142'></a> +<span>And he kneeleth down by Sigurd, and bareth the Wrath to the sun<br /></span> +<span>That the beams are gathered about it, and from hilt to blood-point run,<br /></span> +<span>And wide o'er the plain of the Niblungs doth the Light of the Branstock glare,<br /></span> +<span>Till the wondering mountain-shepherds on that star of noontide stare,<br /></span> +<span>And fear for many an evil; but the ancient man stands still<br /></span> +<span>With the war-flame on his shoulder, nor thinks of good or of ill,<br /></span> +<span>Till the feet of Brynhild's bearers on the topmost bale are laid,<br /></span> +<span>And her bed is dight by Sigurd's; then he sinks the pale white blade<br /></span> +<span>And lays it 'twixt the sleepers, and leaves them there alone—<br /></span> +<span>He, the last that shall ever behold them,—and his days are well nigh done.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then is silence over the plain; in the noon shine the torches pale<br /></span> +<span>As the best of the Niblung Earl-folk bear fire to the builded bale:<br /></span> +<span>Then a wind in the west ariseth, and the white flames leap on high,<br /></span> +<span>And with one voice crieth the people a great and mighty cry,<br /></span> +<span>And men cast up hands to the Heavens, and pray without a word,<br /></span> +<span>As they that have seen God's visage, and the voice of the Father have heard.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>They are gone—the lovely, the mighty, the hope of the ancient Earth:<br /></span> +<span>It shall labour and bear the burden as before that day of their birth.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Ye have heard of Sigurd aforetime, how the foes of God he slew;<br /></span> +<span>How forth from the darksome desert the Gold of the Waters he drew;<br /></span> +<span>How he wakened Love on the Mountain, and wakened Brynhild the Bright,<br /></span> +<span>And dwelt upon Earth for a season and shone in all men's sight.<br /></span> +<span>Ye have heard of the Cloudy People, and the dimming of the day,<br /></span> +<span>And the latter world's confusion, and Sigurd gone away.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p>THE END</p><a name='Page_143'></a> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='GLOSSARY'></a><h2><a name='Page_148'></a><a name='Page_150'></a><a name='Page_147'></a><a name='Page_152'></a><a name='Page_144'></a><a name='Page_151'></a><a name='Page_146'></a><a name='Page_145'></a><a name='Page_149'></a>GLOSSARY</h2> + +<p>ABBREVIATIONS:—<i>n.</i>, noun; <i>v.</i>, verb; <i>cf.</i>, compare; <i>e.g.</i>, for +example; <i>p.t.</i>, past tense; <i>p.p.</i> past participle.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Abasement</i>, casting down, defeat.</p> + +<p><i>Acre-biders</i>, peaceful workers in the fields as distinguished from +warriors who left their homes to go to war.</p> + +<p><i>Amber</i>, a yellow substance found on the shores of the Baltic Sea and +used from very early days as an ornament. The "southern men," or +traders from the shores of the Mediterranean, came north to buy it.</p> + +<p><i>Ark</i>, a box for treasures.</p> + +<p><i>Atwain</i>, in two pieces, <i>e.g.</i> "The sword ... had smitten his body +atwain."</p> + +<p><i>Avail</i>, <i>n.</i> power; <i>v.</i> to have power, to succeed.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Bale</i>, disaster, destruction, death; a great pile of wood for +burning.</p> + +<p><i>Balks</i>, pieces of timber used to make a bridge.</p> + +<p><i>Bane</i>, destruction or a cause of destruction; often used to mean an +enemy or slayer, <i>e.g.</i> Sigurd's sword is called "Fafnir's bane," and +in the old saga Sigurd himself had the title Fafnir's-Bane.</p> + +<p><i>Barter</i>, to give in exchange for something else.</p> + +<p><i>Bast</i>, wrappings made of the soft inner bark of trees.</p> + +<p><i>Bath of the swan</i>, the sea.</p> + +<p><i>Battle-acre</i>, field of battle.</p> + +<p><i>Beaker</i>, a drinking cup.</p> + +<p><i>Befall</i>, happen.</p> + +<p><i>Begrudge</i>, to feel unwillingness in giving, to be displeased at +another's success. Loki is called the World's Begrudger, because he +liked to cause failure and unhappiness, and hated success in others.</p> + +<p><i>Bench-cloths</i>, coverings for seats.</p> + +<p><i>Bent</i>, a piece of high ground.</p> + +<p><i>Betide</i>, <i>p.t.</i> betided; <i>p.p.</i> betid; to happen, come to pass, +<i>e.g.</i> "What hath betid?"</p> + +<p><i>Bickering</i>, stormy, struggling.</p> + +<p><i>Bide</i> or <i>abide</i>, <i>p.t.</i> abode; <i>p.p.</i> abode; to remain, dwell</p> + +<p><i>Bight</i>, a bend or curve in a coast or river bank.</p> + +<p><i>Bill</i>, an axe with a long handle.</p> + +<p><i>Blazoning</i>, painting, especially the painting of coats of arms or of +records of valiant deeds.</p> + +<p><i>Boar of Sôn</i>. It was customary when making any solemn vows to lay the +hand or sword on a sacred boar called the Boar of Sôn or the Boar of +Atonement. The ceremony seems to have been also accompanied by +drinking a draught, called in this poem the Cup of Daring Promise, in +honour of one of the gods.</p> + +<p><i>Boding</i>, a misgiving, a feeling that evil is to come.</p> + +<p><i>Bole</i>, a tree-trunk.</p> + +<p><i>Bows the acre's face</i>, bends the growing grain in a harvest-field.</p> + +<p><i>Brand</i>, a sword.</p> + +<p><i>Bucklers</i>, shields.</p> + +<p><i>Burg</i>, a town, a fortress.</p> + +<p><i>Byrny</i>, a coat of armour for back and breast, made of linked iron +rings.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Carles</i>, peasants; a contemptuous word used for a man who is not a +warrior.</p> + +<p><i>Change his life</i>, die and pass from the life on earth to that in +Valhalla or Niflheim.</p> + +<p><i>Chooser</i>. One of the titles of Brynhild, as she was one of the +Valkyries or maidens whom Odin sent into battles to single out for +death the men he had chosen to be slain. Victory-Wafter is another +title of Brynhild, since she brought victory to those for whom it was +appointed and death to others.</p> + +<p><i>Churl</i>, a grudging, ungracious man.</p> + +<p><i>Clave</i>, <i>p.p.</i> of cleave, to pierce, hew, cut through.</p> + +<p><i>Cloisters</i>, a roofed passage running round a court-yard and open on +the side towards the court-yard.</p> + +<p><i>Close</i>, a field.</p> + +<p><i>Cloud-wreath</i>, the cloud that often gathers about the top of a high +mountain.</p> + +<p><i>Compass</i>, to contrive, accomplish.</p> + +<p><i>Constrain</i>, to force, to control and guide.</p> + +<p><i>Coping</i>, the topmost row of bricks in a wall, the top of a wall.</p> + +<p><i>Craft</i>, skill, knowledge of some particular art, a trade or +occupation, <i>e.g.</i> song-craft.</p> + +<p><i>Cull</i>, to choose, pick out.</p> + +<p><i>Cup of Daring Promise</i>, see <i>Boar of Sôn</i>.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Daïs</i>, a raised part of the floor at one end of a banquet hall, where +the principal persons sat.</p> + +<p><i>Dastard</i>, a coward.</p> + +<p><i>Dawn-dusk</i>, the twilight at dawn before the sun is fully risen.</p> + +<p><i>Day of the Battle</i>, Ragnarok, when the spirits of dead warriors +should join in the battle of the gods. "<i>Day of Doom</i>" has the same +meaning.</p> + +<p><i>Dearth</i>, want, famine, scarcity.</p> + +<p><i>Deft</i>, skilful, <i>e.g.</i> deft in every cunning.</p> + +<p><i>Dight</i>, made ready, prepared, <i>e.g.</i> war-dight, prepared for war.</p> + +<p><i>Dole</i>, <i>n.</i> a gift dealt out as charity; <i>v.</i> to measure out in small +portions, <i>e.g.</i> I doled out wisdom to thee.</p> + +<p><i>Doom</i>, <i>n.</i> a sentence, verdict, <i>e.g.</i> give righteous doom; <i>v.</i> to +condemn, to sentence. <i>Doom-ring</i>, a circle of stones or hazel poles +where kings heard complaints from their people and gave judgment.</p> + +<p><i>Do on</i>, put on; often shortened into "don"; <i>cf.</i> doff, which is +shortened from do off.</p> + +<p><i>Door-wards</i>, porters, door-keepers.</p> + +<p><i>Dragons</i>, the war-ships of the northern nations, which often had +their prows carved into a dragon's head.</p> + +<p><i>Dwindle</i>, to grow less.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Edges of bale</i>, the sword edges, which bring bale or destruction.</p> + +<p><i>Egg</i>, to urge on, to persuade to some deed, <i>e.g.</i> "Too much thou +eggest me."</p> + +<p><i>Eld</i>, old age.</p> + +<p><i>Endlong</i>, length-ways, along. <i>Endlong</i> and <i>athwart</i>, along and +across.</p> + +<p><i>Erewhile</i>, some time ago, formerly.</p> + +<p><i>Erne</i>, an eagle.</p> + +<p><i>Eyen</i>, eyes; old plural of eye.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Fain</i>, glad, willing, full of desire. Sometimes used as an adverb +meaning "willingly," <i>e.g.</i> "They fain would go aland."</p> + +<p><i>Fair-speech-masters</i>, men skilled in poetry. There were professional +singers and poets called skalds among the northern people, and the +power to make verses and to sing was cultivated among the mass of the +people and was fairly common.</p> + +<p><i>Fallow</i>, lying quiet, inactive, not bearing crops. The expression, +"fallow bondage," means a bondage of sleep and idleness.</p> + +<p><i>Fare</i>, to travel. Sometimes when joined to adverbs it means to +prosper, <i>e.g.</i> to fare ill, to fare well, how does he fare?</p> + +<p><i>Fashion</i>, to make, to arrange. Regin hoped to be the world's +"fashioning lord," that is, the supreme king and orderer of all +things.</p> + +<p><i>Fell-abiding folk</i>, men who worked at home instead of going out to +battle.</p> + +<p><i>Flame-blink</i>, the flash of light from the fire round Brynhild's home.</p> + +<p><i>Flaw</i>, defect, fault, <i>e.g.</i> "the hauberk ... clean wrought without a +flaw;" "the ring ... that hath ... no flaw for God to mend." If used +of rain, it means a slight shower, <i>e.g.</i> "a flaw of summer rain,"</p> + +<p><i>Fleck</i>, spot, mark.</p> + +<p><i>Foam-bow</i>, the small rainbow seen in the spray from a waterfall.</p> + +<p><i>Foil</i>, <i>n.</i> defeat, failure; <i>v.</i> to defeat, to baffle.</p> + +<p><i>Fold</i>, a place for shutting up sheep. It is often used meaning any +dwelling-place, <i>e.g.</i> Fafnir's abode is called "the lone destroyer's +fold."</p> + +<p><i>Folk</i>, people. It is often joined with other words, <i>e.g.</i> man-folk, +Goth-folk. <i>Folk of the-war-wands forgers</i>, are the race of dwarfs who +had great skill in the making of weapons.</p> + +<p><i>Fond</i>, used in Old English to mean "foolish," or sometimes only to +give emphasis, as in the expression "thy fondest need," meaning "thy +greatest need."</p> + +<p><i>Foot-hills</i>, the lower hills round the base of a very high mountain.</p> + +<p><i>Fore-ordained</i>, settled by the will of the gods in early times.</p> + +<p><i>Foster</i>, to rear, to bring up a child, to care for, to shelter, +<i>e.g.</i> "Now would I foster Sigurd;" "the house that fostered me."</p> + +<p><i>Franklin</i>, a well-to-do farmer, one who is not merely a hired +servant.</p> + +<p><i>Freyia</i>, the wife of Odin and chief of the goddesses.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Gainsay</i>, to resist, to refuse a request.</p> + +<p><i>Gaping Gap</i>, a name given to the state of things that existed before +the world was made. There was supposed to have been an empty space +till Odin created the world of gods and men.</p> + +<p><i>Garner</i>, to gather up, to store up; sometimes, to reap.</p> + +<p><i>Garth</i>, an enclosure, a place from which things may be garnered, +<i>e.g.</i> "within the garth that it (the wall) girdeth."</p> + +<p><i>Gear</i>, a word used with many meanings, as, dress, arms, possessions, +anything that a person has or uses, <i>e.g.</i> war-gear, all a man's +armour and weapons; mail-gear, a man's armour.</p> + +<p><i>Gird</i>, to tie round, to be all round, <i>e.g.</i> "The Wrath to his side +is girded;" "a wall doth he behold ... but within the garth that it +girdeth no work of man is set."</p> + +<p><i>Glaive</i>, a sword.</p> + +<p><i>God-home</i>, Asgard.</p> + +<p><i>Gold-bestrider</i>, the name given to Sigurd by Giuki because he rode +with the treasure of gold upon his saddle. To bestride is to stand +over anything with one foot on each side.</p> + +<p><i>Good-heart</i>, kindly strength.</p> + +<p><i>Goodlihead</i>, a word of praise which is generally used to mean bodily +beauty, but sometimes to mean beauty of character.</p> + +<p><i>Grovel</i>, to crouch low on the ground.</p> + +<p><i>Guest-fain</i>, hospitable, ready to welcome guests.</p> + +<p><i>Guile</i>, cunning, cleverness used for an evil purpose.</p> + +<p><i>Guise</i>, appearance, kind, dress, <i>e.g.</i> "such was the guise of his +raiment;" "fair-clad in hunter's guise."</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Halers of the hawsers</i>, pullers of the ropes, <i>i.e.</i> seamen.</p> + +<p><i>Hallow</i>, to set apart for a solemn purpose, to make holy, <i>e.g.</i> I +hallow me to Odin for a leader of his host.</p> + +<p><i>Hangings</i>, tapestry, woven stuff on which pictures or figures of gods +and heroes were embroidered, used to decorate the walls of houses, +<i>e.g.</i> "The walls were strange and wondrous with noble stories told;" +"the gods on the hangings stirred."</p> + +<p><i>Harness</i>, armour.</p> + +<p><i>Hauberk</i>, a breast-plate.</p> + +<p><i>Heave</i>, to rise and fall, sometimes merely to rise, <i>e.g.</i> "The doom +... heaves up dim through the gloom."</p> + +<p><i>High-seat</i>, the daïs or chief seat where the master of a house and +his principal guests sat.</p> + +<p><i>High-tide</i>, time of festival.</p> + +<p><i>Hindfell</i>, the word means "deer-mountain," since "fell" means any +hill, and "hind" is the word we still use for a deer.</p> + +<p><i>Hireling</i>, a servant.</p> + +<p><i>Hist</i>, to give attention, to listen.</p> + +<p><i>Hithermost</i>, nearest.</p> + +<p><i>Hoard</i>, a store. Generally used of a treasure which the owner keeps +selfishly, <i>e.g.</i> Fafnir's wisdom is called "grudged and hoarded +wisdom," and his gold the "heavy hoard."</p> + +<p><i>Hœnir</i>, one of Odin's sons; a wise and blameless god who, the others +believed, would return to reign over a new heaven and a new earth when +Ragnarok was past.</p> + +<p><i>Holt</i>, a woodland.</p> + +<p><i>Hoppled</i>, fettered.</p> + +<p><i>Horse-fed</i>, cropped by horses.</p> + +<p><i>Horse-herd</i>, keeper of horses. "Herd" means any keeper of animals, +and is generally joined with other words, <i>e.g.</i> shepherd, swine-herd.</p> + +<p><i>Huddled</i>, twisted together in a small space.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Intent</i>, intention, purpose. In the passage, "For whom is the +blood-point whetted and the edge of thine intent?" the meaning is, +"Against whom is thy sword sharpened, and against whom is thy purpose +so keen?"</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Kin</i>, family, relations. <i>Kin of the Wolf</i>, Loki and his children, +one of whom was a monstrous wolf which was to fight against the gods +at Ragnarok.</p> + +<p><i>Kine</i>, cattle.</p> + +<p><i>Kirtle</i>, a long cloak.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Lack</i>, loss, <i>e.g.</i> "He knew there was ruin and lack." "The lack that +made him loth" is used to describe the ring of Andvari which he was +unwilling to give up with the rest of his treasure to Loki. <i>v.</i> "To +be without," or, "to be found wanting."</p> + +<p><i>Lay</i>, a song.</p> + +<p><i>Lea</i>, a meadow.</p> + +<p><i>Leeches</i>, doctors.</p> + +<p><i>Lief</i>, willing.</p> + +<p><i>Lift</i>, the arch of the sky overhead, the highest part of the sky.</p> + +<p><i>Linden</i>, the lime-tree.</p> + +<p><i>Linked mail</i>, armour made of rings linked together.</p> + +<p><i>Lintel</i>, the top of a doorway.</p> + +<p><i>List</i>, to wish, to choose.</p> + +<p><i>Litten</i>, lighted up; <i>cf.</i> red-litten, torch-litten.</p> + +<p><i>Long-ships</i>, ships of war.</p> + +<p><i>Lore</i>, learning, knowledge.</p> + +<p><i>Loth</i>, unwilling, grieved.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Mar</i>, to spoil, disfigure.</p> + +<p><i>Mark</i>, boundary, borderland.</p> + +<p><i>Masters of God-home</i>, the gods of Asgard against whom the giants and +all foul monsters were constantly at war.</p> + +<p><i>Mattock</i>, a pick-axe.</p> + +<p><i>Mead</i>, a meadow.</p> + +<p><i>Mew</i>, a sea-gull.</p> + +<p><i>Mid-mirk</i>, thick darkness. <i>Mirk</i>, darkness.</p> + +<p><i>Midward</i>, prime, best days.</p> + +<p><i>Midworld</i>, the earth; the home of men as distinguished from Asgard, +the home of the gods, and Niflheim, the home of the dead.</p> + +<p><i>Minish</i>, to grow less.</p> + +<p><i>Moon-wake</i>, the long straight path of light made by the moon on +water.</p> + +<p><i>Murder-churls,</i> fierce and suspicious men ready to slay a guest.</p> + +<p><i>Mute</i>, dumb, silent.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Nether</i>, lower.</p> + +<p><i>Niggard</i>, grudging, miserly, unproductive, <i>e.g.</i> the Glittering +Heath is called "niggard ground."</p> + +<p><i>Norns</i>, the three maidens who decided the fates of gods and men. +Their names were Urd, Verdandi and Skuld, or Past, Present, and +Future, and they were more powerful than the gods themselves, <i>e.g.</i> +"Gone, forth is the will of the Norns, that abideth ever the same."</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Odin's door</i>, a warrior's shield.</p> + +<p><i>Odin's Hall</i>, Valhalla, to which went the souls of warriors slain in +battle.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Pall</i>, a cloak of state; most commonly used in the expression "purple +and pall."</p> + +<p><i>Passing</i>, very; used to give emphasis, <i>e.g.</i> "He loveth her passing +sore," where both words are simply emphatic.</p> + +<p><i>Peace-strings</i>, the strings which tied a sword into its sheath when +it was not in use.</p> + +<p><i>Peers</i>, equals in age and rank.</p> + +<p><i>People's Praise</i>. Odin, chief of the gods. "The death of the People's +Praise" is Ragnarok, the time when Odin and all his fellow gods were +to be destroyed.</p> + +<p><i>Purblind</i>, dim-sighted. The syllable "pur" is a form of the word +pure, and gives emphasis to blind.</p> + +<p><i>Purple</i>, cloth dyed with a purple dye made from the murex, a +shell-fish found in the Mediterranean. The secret of making it was +known only to the "southern men" or Phoenician traders of Tyre and +Sidon.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Quarry</i>, game, prey, the animal chased by a hunter.</p> + +<p><i>Quell</i>, to stop, make to cease.</p> + +<p><i>Quicken</i>, to rouse, bring to life.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Ravening</i>, devouring, eager for prey; often used of wild animals.</p> + +<p><i>Reck</i>, to notice, care about.</p> + +<p><i>Reek</i>, smoke rising from a fire, or spray and mist from a waterfall, +<i>e.g.</i> "the reek of the falling flood;" "the heart of Fafnir ... sang +among the reek."</p> + +<p><i>Renown</i>, fame, honour.</p> + +<p><i>Rock-wall</i>, mountain cliff.</p> + +<p><i>Roof-tree</i>, the topmost beam which forms the ridge of a roof.</p> + +<p><i>Rue</i>, to regret, to find a cause of woe.</p> + +<p><i>Rumour</i>, report, gossiping tale.</p> + +<p><i>Rune</i>, letter. The letters used in old Icelandic and similar +languages are called runic characters. When written letters were first +known in the north of Europe they were supposed to have magic powers, +and gradually the word "rune" came to mean any spell, or even any +wisdom which was beyond the ordinary knowledge of men.</p> + +<p><i>Ruth</i>, pity, regret, <i>e.g.</i> "Ruth arose in his heart;" "I have +hearkened not nor heeded the words of thy fear and thy ruth."</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Salutation</i>, greeting.</p> + +<p><i>Sate</i>, satisfy to the full.</p> + +<p><i>Scalds</i>, the poets who recited poems or stories at feasts.</p> + +<p><i>Scoff</i>, an object of mockery.</p> + +<p><i>Scored</i>, carved, marked by lines cut deeply into a surface.</p> + +<p><i>Sea-beast's tooth</i>, the tusks of the walrus.</p> + +<p><i>Sea-mead</i>, the wide surface of the sea. The word means sea-meadow.</p> + +<p><i>Seethe</i>, to bubble and move like boiling water.</p> + +<p><i>Semblance</i>, an appearance, outward show where there is no reality.</p> + +<p><i>Serry</i>, to crowd closely together.</p> + +<p><i>Shards</i>, broken fragments, <i>e.g.</i> "the shards of a glaive of battle."</p> + +<p><i>Shield-burg</i>, a fortress built of shields. Burg means either a town, +a castle, or a fortress.</p> + +<p><i>Shield-wall</i>, the defence made by fighting men holding their shields +close together as they stand at bay.</p> + +<p><i>Shift</i>, <i>n.</i> a trick, cunning plan, <i>e.g.</i> "my cunning shifts;" <i>v.</i> +to contrive, be able, <i>e.g.</i> "the man whose heart and hand may shift, +To pluck it from the oak-wood."</p> + +<p><i>Shimmer</i>, to gleam and change colour as the light alters.</p> + +<p><i>Skerry</i>, a rocky island near the coast.</p> + +<p><i>Slaked</i>, cooled, put out; used of anything that has been burning and +is now grown cold.</p> + +<p><i>Sleight</i>, cunning, trickery. Loki is called "the Master of Sleight" +because of his skill in deceit.</p> + +<p><i>Sleipnir</i>, Odin's horse. It was grey, had eight feet, and could carry +him over sea and land, and could also fly through the air.</p> + +<p><i>Slot</i>, the track left by a wild animal.</p> + +<p><i>Sloth</i>, idleness.</p> + +<p><i>Smithy</i>, to do the work of a smith, forge weapons.</p> + +<p><i>Sooth</i>, truth.</p> + +<p><i>Sore</i>, very much. It is generally used about things which are evil or +painful, but sometimes only to give emphasis, <i>e.g.</i> "amber that the +southern men love sore."</p> + +<p><i>Spear-hedge</i>, the bristling spears of an army in battle; <i>cf.</i> +battle-wood, spear-wood.</p> + +<p><i>Spell-drenched</i>, stupefied or overwhelmed by magic.</p> + +<p><i>Sphere-stream</i>, the space beyond the air of this world, in which the +planets or spheres move on their courses.</p> + +<p><i>Stark</i>, stiff, hard, severe.</p> + +<p><i>Staunch</i>, steadfast, unchanging.</p> + +<p><i>Stead</i>, <i>n.</i> a place; it is often joined to other words, <i>e.g.</i> +hall-stead, a hall or the place where a hall has been, as in the +sentence, "I went to the pillared hall-stead;" <i>v.</i> <i>stead or +bestead</i>, to serve, to aid, <i>e.g.</i> "to stead me in the fight."</p> + +<p><i>Steadfast</i>, unchanging, faithful, unmoved.</p> + +<p><i>Stithy</i>, a blacksmith's forge.</p> + +<p><i>Strait</i>, narrow, cramped.</p> + +<p><i>Stripling</i>, a young man just grown up; <i>cf.</i> youngling.</p> + +<p><i>Sunder</i>, to separate, <i>e.g.</i> "We wend on the sundering ways."</p> + +<p><i>Sun-dog</i>, a bright spot like a faint image of the sun, seen near it +in cloudy weather.</p> + +<p><i>Swaddling</i>, anything that wraps or enfolds, <i>e.g.</i> the coils of +Fafnir passing over Sigurd in the pit are called "the swaddling of +death."</p> + +<p><i>Swart-haired</i>, dark-haired.</p> + +<p><i>Swathe</i>, the long line of mown corn behind a reaper; <i>cf.</i> "swathes +of the sword," <i>i.e.</i> heaps of dead in battle.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Targe</i>, a shield.</p> + +<p><i>Tarry</i>, to wait, to linger, <i>e.g.</i> "Tarry till I say a word."</p> + +<p><i>Thrall</i>, a slave, "<i>short-lived thralls of the gods</i>," mortal men, +not dwarfs or giants.</p> + +<p><i>Tide</i>, time, <i>e.g.</i> "the tide when my father fell;" "the night-tide."</p> + +<p><i>Tiles of Odin</i>, war shields, so called because Odin was god of war.</p> + +<p><i>Tiller</i>, the handle of the rudder which steers a ship.</p> + +<p><i>Toils</i>, snares, fetters.</p> + +<p><i>To-morn</i>, tomorrow morning.</p> + +<p><i>Train</i>, to entice, bring by trickery.</p> + +<p><i>Tree-hole</i>, tree-trunk.</p> + +<p><i>Troth</i>, a promise, generally a promise of marriage.</p> + +<p><i>Troth-plight</i>, promised in marriage.</p> + +<p><i>Trow</i>, to believe.</p> + +<p><i>Twi-bill</i>, an axe with a double-edged blade. It was the weapon which +Odin carried when he appeared to men.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Unbitted</i>, never taught to obey the bit, not broken in.</p> + +<p><i>Unholpen</i>, unhelped. Holpen is the old form of the <i>p.p.</i> helped.</p> + +<p><i>Unstable</i>, changeable, not lasting.</p> + +<p><i>Uttermost horn</i>, the signal for Ragnarok. It was believed that +Heimdall, one of the gods who guarded a bridge called Bifrost between +Asgard and the earth, would blow a blast on his horn which would be +the sign for the beginning of the great battle between the gods and +the powers of evil.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Venom</i>, poison.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Wall-nook</i>, an opening or bend in a wall.</p> + +<p><i>Wallow</i>, to roll about upon the ground, <i>e.g.</i> "Fafnir, the wallower +on the gold."</p> + +<p><i>Wan</i>, pale, pinched with suffering.</p> + +<p><i>Wane</i>, to fade away, grow dim.</p> + +<p><i>Warding-walls</i>, guarding-walls. "<i>Warding walls of death</i>," man's +armour that keeps death from him.</p> + +<p><i>Wards</i>, keepers, <i>e.g.</i> door-wards; <i>cf.</i> warden. Fafnir is called +"the gold-warden."</p> + +<p><i>War-wand</i>, a sword.</p> + +<p><i>Wary</i>, careful, ever on the watch.</p> + +<p><i>Waste</i>, to destroy, to sweep away, <i>e.g.</i> Sigurd is said to "waste +every wrong."</p> + +<p><i>Waxen</i>, grown, become.</p> + +<p><i>Weal</i>, happiness, good-fortune.</p> + +<p><i>Wedge-array</i>, an arrangement of fighting men in which they stood +close together in the form of a triangle.</p> + +<p><i>Weed</i>, dress.</p> + +<p><i>Well up</i>, to rise as a spring bubbles out of the ground; used of +feelings with the meaning "to arise and grow strong," <i>e.g.</i> "Wrath in +his heart wells up."</p> + +<p><i>Welter</i>, the toss and ripple of the sea-waves.</p> + +<p><i>Wend</i>, to go.</p> + +<p><i>Whetted</i>, stirred up, made sharp or eager, <i>e.g.</i> "the whetted +Wrath."</p> + +<p><i>Whileome</i>, in the past, once upon a time.</p> + +<p><i>Whiles</i>, from time to time.</p> + +<p><i>Whit</i>, a very small particle, a trifle, <i>e.g.</i> never a whit, no whit.</p> + +<p><i>Wight</i>, a man, a creature, <i>e.g.</i> sea-wights, great sea-monsters.</p> + +<p><i>Wise</i>, way, manner, after the fashion of.</p> + +<p><i>Witch-wife</i>, witch. Wife here means woman.</p> + +<p><i>Wold</i>, a hill; often used to mean open country.</p> + +<p><i>Wood-craft</i>, knowledge of the woods and of all creatures in them, +<i>e.g.</i> "His wood-craft waxed so great, that he seemed the king of the +creatures."</p> + +<p><i>Wot</i>, to know.</p> + +<p><i>Wrack</i>, strife, destruction, ruins. <i>Wrack of a mighty battle</i>, the +dead left on the field.</p> + +<p><i>Wrights</i>, workmen, makers.</p> + +<p><i>Writhen</i>, bent, twisted out of shape, <i>e.g.</i> "Writhen and foul were +the hands that made it glorious."</p> + +<p><i>Written spear</i>, a spear carved with letters or words.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Yearn</i>, to long, to feel tenderness towards, <i>e.g.</i> "My heart to him +doth yearn."</p> + +<p><i>Yore</i>, long ago; generally used in the expression "of yore," +formerly, once upon a time.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<br /> + +<p><b>LONGMANS' CLASS-BOOKS OF ENGLISH LITERATURE</b></p> + +<p><i>Each Volume contains an Introduction and Notes.</i></p> + +<p>Alcott's Little Women.</p> + +<p>Allen's Heroes of Indian History and Stories of their Times. With Maps +and Illustrations.</p> + +<p>Anderson's English Letters selected for Reading in Schools.</p> + +<p>Arnold's Sohrab and Rustum, and Balder Dead.</p> + +<p>Ballantyne's The Coral Island. (Abridged).</p> + +<p>Carroll's Alice in Wonderland.</p> + +<p>Cook's (Captain) Voyages.</p> + +<p>Defoe's Robinson Crusoe. (Abridged). With Illustrations.</p> + +<p>Dickens' A Christmas Carol.</p> + +<p>Dickens, Selections from. With Illustrations.</p> + +<p>Doyle's Micah Clarke. (Abridged). With 20 Illustrations.</p> + +<p>Doyle's The Refugees. (Abridged). With Illustrations.</p> + +<p>Doyle's The White Company. (Abridged). With 12 Illustrations.</p> + +<p>Fronde's Short Studies on Great Subjects. Selections. With Illustrations.</p> + +<p>Haggard's Eric Bright eyes. (Abridged).</p> + +<p>Haggard's Lysbeth. (Abridged).</p> + +<p>Hawthorne's A Wonder Book.</p> + +<p>Hawthorne's Tanglewood Tales.</p> + +<p>Hughes' Tom Brown's School Days. (Abridged) With Frontispiece.</p> + +<p>Jefferies (Richard), Selections from.</p> + +<p>Kingsley's The Heroes. With Illustrations.</p> + +<p>Kingsley's Hereward the Wake. (Abridged).</p> + +<p>Kingsley's Westward Ho!</p> + +<p>Lambs' Tales from Shakespeare. (Abridged.)</p> + +<p>Lang's Tales of the Greek Seas. With Illustrations.</p> + +<p>Lang's Tales of Troy. With Illustrations and a Map.</p> + +<p>Macaulay's History of England. Chap I.</p> + +<p>Macaulay's History of England. Chap III.</p> + +<p>Macaulay's History of England, Selections from.</p> + +<p>Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome, &c.</p> + +<p>Marryat's Settlers in Canada.</p> + +<p>Milton's Paradise Lost. Books I, II, III, IV, and V.</p> + +<p>Milton's Comus, Il Penseroso, L'Allegro and Lycidas.</p> + +<p>Morris's Atalanta's Race, and The Proud King.</p> + +<p>Morris's The Man Born to be King.</p> + +<p>Morris's The Story of the Glittering Plain.</p> + +<p>Morris's The Story of Sigurd the Volsung.</p> + +<p>Newman, Literary Selections from.</p> + +<p>Reade's The Cloister and the Hearth.</p> + +<p>Ruskin's King of the Golden River.</p> + +<p>Scott's Lay of the Last Minstrel.</p> + +<p>Scott's Marmion.</p> + +<p>Scott's The Lady of the Lake.</p> + +<p>Scott's The Talisman. (Abridged). </p> + +<p>Scott's A Legend of Montrose. (Abridged).</p> + +<p>Scott's Ivanhoe. (Abridged).</p> + +<p>Scott's Quentin Durward. (Abridged).</p> + +<p>Southey's The Life of Nelson.</p> + +<p>Stevenson's Book of Selections.</p> + +<p>Stevenson's A Child's Garden of Verse. With a Portrait.</p> + +<p>Tales of King Arthur and the Round Table. With Illustrations.</p> + +<p>Thackeray, Selections from.</p> + +<p>Thornton's Selection of Poetry.</p> + +<p>Weyman's The House of the Wolf.</p> + +<p>Zimmern's Gods and Heroes of the North. With Illustrations.</p> +<br /> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13486 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8415c3b --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #13486 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13486) diff --git a/old/13486-8.txt b/old/13486-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5e0abc5 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13486-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5701 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Story of Sigurd the Volsung, by William +Morris, et al + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Story of Sigurd the Volsung + +Author: William Morris + +Release Date: September 17, 2004 [eBook #13486] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF SIGURD THE VOLSUNG*** + + +E-text prepared by David Starner, Cori Samuel, and the Project Gutenberg +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +THE STORY OF SIGURD THE VOLSUNG + +Written In Verse By + +WILLIAM MORRIS + +With Portions Condensed Into Prose by Winifred Turner, B.A. +Late Assistant Mistress, Ware Grammar School For Girls +And +Helen Scott, M.A. + +1922 + + + + + + + +BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION + +By J. W. Mackail + + +William Morris, one of the most eminent imaginative writers of the +Victorian age, differs from most other poets and men of letters in +two ways--first, he did great work in many other things as well as in +literature; secondly, he had beliefs of his own about the meaning and +conduct of life, about all that men think and do and make, very +different from those of ordinary people, and he carried out these +views in his writings as well as in all the other work he did +throughout his life. + +He was born in 1834. His father, a member of a business firm in the +City of London, was a wealthy man and lived in Essex, in a country +house with large gardens and fields belonging to it, on the edge of +Epping Forest. Until the age of thirteen Morris was at home among a +large family of brothers and sisters. He delighted in the country +life and especially in the Forest, which is one of the most romantic +parts of England, and which he made the scene of many real and +imaginary adventures. From fourteen to eighteen he was at school at +Marlborough among the Wiltshire downs, in a country full of beauty and +history, and close to another of the ancient forests of England, that +of Savernake. He proceeded from school to Exeter College, Oxford, +where he soon formed a close friendship with a remarkable set of young +men of his own age; chief among these, and Morris's closest friend for +the rest of his life, was Edward Burne-Jones, the painter. Study of +the works of John Ruskin confirmed them in the admiration which they +already felt for the life and art of the Middle Ages. In the summer +vacation of 1855 the two friends went to Northern France to see the +beautiful towns and splendid churches with which that country had been +filled between the eleventh and the fifteenth centuries; and there +they made up their minds that they cared for art more than for +anything else, such as wealth or ease or the opinion of the world, +and that as soon as they left Oxford they would become artists. +By art they meant the making of beauty for the adornment and +enrichment of human life, and as artists they meant to strive against +all that was ugly or mean or untruthful in the life of their own time. + +Art, as they understood it, is one single thing covering the whole +of life but practised in many special forms that differ one from +another. Among these many forms of art there are two of principal +importance. One of the two is the art which is concerned with the +making and adorning of the houses in which men and women live; that is +to say, architecture, with all its attendant arts of decoration, +including sculpture, painting, the designing and ornamenting of +metal, wood and glass, carpets, paper-hangings, woven, dyed and +embroidered cloths of all kinds, and all the furniture which a house +may have for use or pleasure. The other is the art which is concerned +with the making and adorning of stories in prose and verse. Both of +these kinds of art were practised by Morris throughout his life. The +former was his principal occupation; he made his living by it, and +built up in it a business which alone made him famous, and which has +had a great influence towards bringing more beauty into daily domestic +life in England and in other countries also. His profession was thus +that of a manufacturer, designer, and decorator. When he had to +describe himself by a single word, he called himself a designer. But +it is the latter branch of his art which principally concerns us now, +the art of a maker and adorner of stories. He became famous in this +kind of art also, both in prose and verse, as a romance-writer and a +poet. But he spoke of it as play rather than work, and although he +spent much time and great pains on it, he regarded it as relaxation +from the harder and more constant work of his life, which was carrying +on the business of designing, painting, weaving, dyeing, printing and +other occupations of that kind. In later life he also gave much of his +time to political and social work, with the object of bringing back +mankind into a path from which they had strayed since the end of the +Middle Ages, and creating a state of society in which art, by the +people and for the people, a joy to the maker and the user, might be +naturally, easily, and universally produced. + +Even as a boy Morris had been noted for his love of reading and +inventing tales; but he did not begin to write any until he had been +for a couple of years at Oxford. His earliest poems and his earliest +written prose tales belong to the same year, 1855, in which he +determined to make art his profession. The first of either that he +published appeared in the Oxford and Cambridge Magazine, which was +started and managed by him and his friends in 1856. In 1858, after he +had left Oxford, he brought out a volume of poems called, after the +title of the first poem in the book, "The Defence of Guenevere." Soon +afterwards he founded, with some of his old Oxford friends and others +whom he had made in London, among whom Dante Gabriel Rossetti was the +leading spirit, the firm of Morris and Company, manufacturers and +decorators. His business, in which he was the principal and finally +the sole partner, took up the main part of his time. He had also +married, and built himself a beautiful small house in Kent, the +decoration of which went busily on for several years. Among all these +other occupations he almost gave up writing stories, but never ceased +reading and thinking about them. In 1865 he came back to live in +London, where, being close to his work, he had more leisure for other +things; and between 1865 and 1870 he wrote between thirty and forty +tales in verse, containing not less than seventy or eighty thousand +lines in all. The longest of these tales, "The Life and Death of +Jason," appeared in 1867. It is the old Greek story of the ship Argo +and the voyage in quest of the Golden Fleece. Twenty-five other tales +are included in "The Earthly Paradise," published in three parts +between 1868 and 1870. + +During these years Morris learned Icelandic, and his next published +works were translations of some of the Icelandic sagas, writings +composed from six to nine hundred years ago, and containing a mass of +legends, histories and romances finely told in a noble language. These +translations were followed in 1876 by his great epic poem, "Sigurd the +Volsung and the Fall of the Niblungs." In that poem he retold a story +of which an Icelandic version, the "Volsunga Saga," written in the +twelfth century, is one of the world's masterpieces. It is the great +epic of Northern Europe, just as the "Iliad" and "Odyssey" of Homer +are the chief epics of ancient Greece, and the "Æneid" of Virgil the +chief epic of the Roman Empire. Morris's love for these great stories +of ancient times led him to rewrite the tale of the Volsungs and +Niblungs, which he reckoned the finest of them all, more fully and on +a larger scale than it had ever been written before. He had already, +in 1875, translated the "Æneid" into verse, and some ten years later, +in 1886-87, he also made a verse translation of the "Odyssey." In 1873 +he had also written another very beautiful poem, "Love is Enough," +containing the story of three pairs of lovers, a countryman and +country-woman, an emperor and empress, and a prince and peasant girl. +This poem was written in the form of a play, not of a narrative. + +To write prose was at first for Morris more difficult than to write +poetry. Verse came naturally to him, and he composed in prose only +with much effort until after long practice. Except for his early tales +in the Oxford and Cambridge Magazine and his translations of Icelandic +sagas, he wrote little but poetry until the year 1882. About that time +he began to give lectures and addresses, and wrote them in great +numbers during the latter part of his life. A number of them were +collected and published in two volumes called "Hopes and Fears for +Art" and "Signs of Change," and many others have been published +separately. He thus gradually accustomed himself to prose composition. +For several years he was too busy with other things, which he thought +more important, to spend time on storytelling; but his instinct forced +itself out again, and in 1886 he began the series of romances in prose +or in mixed prose and verse which went on during the next ten years. +The chief of these are, "A Dream of John Ball," "The House of +Wolfings," "The Roots of the Mountains," "News from Nowhere," "The +Glittering Plain," "The Wood beyond the World," "The Well at the +World's End," "The Water of the Wondrous Isles," and "The Sundering +Flood." During the same years he also translated, out of +Icelandic and old French books, more of the stories which he had +long known and admired. "The Sundering Flood" was written in his last +illness, and finished by him within a few days of his death, in the +autumn of 1896. + + + + +INTRODUCTION TO SIGURD + +By The Editors + + +The story of Sigurd is important to English people not only for its +wondrous beauty, but also on account of its great age, and of what it +tells us about our own Viking ancestors, who first knew the story. + +The tale was known all over the north of Europe, in Denmark, in +Germany, in Norway and Sweden, and in Iceland, hundreds of years +before it was written down. Sometimes different names were given to +the characters, sometimes the events of the story were slightly +altered, but in the main points it was one and the same tale. + +If we look at a map of Europe showing the nations as they were rather +more than a thousand years ago, we see the names of Saxons, Goths, +Danes, and Frisians marked on the lands around the Baltic Sea. Those +who bore these names were the makers of the tale of Sigurd. The name +of the Saxons is, of course, the best known to us, and next in +importance come the people we call Danes, or Northmen, or Vikings, who +attacked the coasts of the Saxon kingdoms in England. The Saxons came +from part of the land that is now known as Germany, and the Vikings +from Denmark and from Scandinavia. + +A third important tribe was that of the Goths, who dwelt first in +South Sweden, and then in Germany. + +All these people resembled one another in their way of life, in their +religion, and in their ideas of what deeds were good and what were +evil. Their lands were barren--too mountainous or too cold to bring +forth fruitful crops, and their homes were not such as would tempt men +never to leave them. So, though they built their little groups of +wooden houses in the valleys of their lands, and made fields and +pastures about them, these were often left to the care of the women +and the feeble men, while the strong men made raids over the sea to +other countries, where they engaged in the fighting which they loved, +and whence they brought back plunder to their homes. North, South, +East, and West they went, till few parts of Europe had not learnt to +know and fear them. + +Their ships were long and narrow, driven often by oars as well as +sails, and outside them, along the bulwarks, the crew hung their round +shields made of yellow wood from the lime-tree. The men wore byrnies +or breast-plates, and helmets, and they were armed with swords, long +spears, or heavy battle-axes. They were enemies none could afford to +despise, for they had great stature and strength of body, joined to +such fierceness and delight in war that they held a man disgraced if +he died peacefully at home. Moreover, they knew nothing of mercy to +the conquered. + +Courage, not only to fight, but also to bear suffering without +impatience or complaint, and the virtue of faithfulness were the +qualities they most honoured. To be wanting in courage was disgraceful +in their eyes, but it was equally disgraceful to refuse to help +kinsfolk, to lie, to deceive, or to desert a chief. + +If they put their enemies to death with fearful tortures, they did not +treat them more severely than the traitors they discovered among +themselves, and if they had no pity for those they conquered, yet they +knew well how to admire great leaders, and how to serve them +faithfully. But we can best realise their ideas on these matters by +considering their religion and their stories. + +They worshipped one chief god, Odin, and other gods and goddesses who +were his children. Odin was often called All-father because he was the +helper and friend of human beings, and appeared on earth in the form +of an old man, "one-eyed and seeming ancient," with cloud-blue hood +and grey cloak. He had courage, strength, and wondrous wisdom, for he +knew all events that happened in the world, and he understood the +speech of birds, and all kinds of charms and magic arts. Men served +him by brave fighting in a good cause, and when they perished in +battle he received their souls in his dwelling of Valhalla in the city +of Asgard, where they spent each day in warfare, and where at evening +the dead were revived, the wounded healed, and all feasted together in +Odin's palace. There they fed upon the flesh of the boar Saehrimner, +which was renewed as fast as it was eaten. Certain maidens called +Valkyrie, or Choosers of the Slain, were Odin's messengers whom he +sent forth into the battles of the world to find the warriors whom he +had appointed to die, and to bring them to Valhalla. + +In the story of Sigurd Odin has a very important part to play, but +for the understanding of the tale it is necessary to know something +about another of the gods. This is Loki, who, though sprung from the +race of the giants, yet lived with the sons of Odin in Asgard, +behaving sometimes as their trusty helper, but more often as their +cunning enemy. He caused much wretchedness, not only among the gods, +but on earth also, for he delighted in the sight of misery. His vices +were all those most hateful to the Norse people, for he was before +all things a liar, a deceiver, a faith-breaker, a skilful worker of +mischief by guile instead of by fair fight. There are many stories of +his cunning thefts, of the miseries he wrought among his companions, +and of his envy of the beloved god Balder, whom he slew by a trick. +His children were terrible monsters, as hated as himself. Yet, +strange to say, Loki was Odin's companion in many of his adventures. + +The gods inhabited Asgard, a city standing on a high mountain in the +middle of the world. Odin's palace of Valhalla was there, and other +palaces for his sons and daughters. All round Asgard lay Midgard, or +the ordinary world of men and women. Its caves and waste places were +inhabited by dwarfs, whom Odin had banished from the light of day for +various ill deeds. They were a spiteful and cunning race, jealous of +mankind, and eager to recover their lost power. Their strength lay in +their wondrous skill in handicraft, for they could forge more deadly +weapons, and fashion more lovely jewels than any made by the hands of +men. But, though possessed of wisdom, they had no spirit of kindness, +no respect for right, and no dislike of wrong. + +Around Midgard lay the sea, and beyond that Utgard, a hideous frozen +country inhabited by giants, enemies of the gods. + +But this arrangement of the world was only for a season. The gods +themselves looked forward to a time of defeat and death, when Asgard +should perish in flames and the world with it, and the sun and moon +should be darkened, and they themselves should be slain. This great +day was called Ragnarok, or sometimes the Twilight of the Gods. Then +Loki would gather giants and monsters to a great battle against the +gods, who would slay their enemies, but who would themselves fall in +the struggle. The sea would drown the earth, the stars would fall, +and all things would pass away. + +This terrible fate the gods awaited with calm and cheerfulness, +showing even greater courage than in their many deeds of war. They +had to submit to this fate, for there were three beings even greater +than they. These were the Norns, deciders of the fate of gods and men +alike. They were three giant maidens who dwelt by a sacred, +wisdom-giving fountain, and who controlled the lives of men, giving +to each sickness and health, success and failure and death when they +would. No man or god might escape what the Norns decreed for him. + +Many stories of these gods, together with tales of famous men, were +told among the northern peoples. These stories were passed on from +one to another by word of mouth, till they grew much longer and +fuller, and the happening of certain historical events helped to take +them from country to country. + +As we have seen, all the races of the North were warlike and eager +for adventure, and so when trouble came upon them in their own homes, +they readily took to the sea to plunder the coasts or to conquer +other lands. Between 800 and 900 A.D., when the Danes were invading +England, many were driven from Norway because they refused to submit +to a king called Harold Fairhair, and when he pursued them to the +Orkney and Faroe Islands they took refuge on the coasts of Iceland. +There they settled, built themselves wooden houses, planted such +crops as would grow in that bleak land, and founded a commonwealth. +Little by little they left the old Viking life, and it lived only in +their songs and stories. + +They had come to Iceland with a vast stock of tales in poetry, which +were related or sung by professional poets, called skalds, at all +kinds of feasts and gatherings. The skalds arranged and improved the +old stories, but they were not written down until about the time of +our King Stephen, when some unknown writer collected them into one +book called the Elder Edda. Very soon after this another book was +written containing the same stories in prose and called the Younger +or Prose Edda. In this way many of the old poems, and a great many +stories containing much information about the religion which the +people took with them to Iceland, have been preserved. + +But it was from neither of the Eddas that William Morris took his +story of Sigurd. + +All through the period from 800 A.D. till about the time of Henry III. +of England, the skalds had been re-telling many of the poetic stories +in prose, and as the people grew more civilised, one tale after +another was written down in its new form. + +These prose tales were called Sagas, and among the very greatest is +the Volsunga Saga, or Story of Sigurd. It is a tale which has been +told in other lands besides Iceland. We read part of the same story +in the Old English poem of Beowulf, and in Germany it was made into +a great poem called the Nibelungenlied. The German musician, Richard +Wagner, set it to music in a famous series of operas called the +Nibelungen Ring. But his tale differs in many points from that +contained in Morris's poem, for Morris chose the old saga as it was +written in Iceland, not the German story. On this he founded his poem, +adding much beautiful description, and greatly lengthening the whole. + +The story deals first with a certain King Volsung, to whose son, +Sigmund, Odin presented a magic sword. + +But Siggeir, the jealous king of the Goths, slew Volsung, and took +Sigmund prisoner that he might have the sword for himself. Only after +many toils and perils did Sigmund win it back and reign in his +father's kingdom. At last in his old age he fell in battle and the +sword of Odin was shattered. But his wife, Queen Hiordis, kept the +fragments for the son who was born to her soon after in Denmark, +whither she fled for safety. This son of Sigmund and Hiordis was +Sigurd the Volsung. He was brought up in Denmark and grew strong +and beautiful, brave, kind of heart, and utterly truthful in word +and deed. + +When he became a man he longed to win fame and kingship by mighty +deeds, and when his tutor told him of a great dragon that guarded a +hoard of ill-gotten gold in the mountains, he resolved to kill it. So +the fragments of Odin's sword were forged into a new blade, and +Sigurd slew the dragon and took the gold, but with it he brought on +himself a curse which had been put upon the treasure by the dwarf +from whom it had been stolen. + +Sigurd then found and wakened Brynhild, a maiden who lay in an +enchanted sleep upon a high mountain. They loved one another, and +Sigurd gave her a ring from the dragon's treasure, promising to +return and marry her. + +Then the curse led him to join with the fierce and treacherous +Niblungs or Cloudy People. Their king and his mother grew jealous +when they saw Sigurd more mighty and more beloved than themselves, +and by enchantments they caused him to forget Brynhild, to wed the +princess Gudrun, and at last to aid the Niblung king, Gunnar, to win +Brynhild for his own wife. + +Then the curse of the gold brought death to many, for Sigurd and +Brynhild discovered all the treachery of the Niblungs, who, in their +anger, slew Sigurd, and Brynhild killed herself that she might not +live and sorrow for him. + +Such is the story of Sigurd as it was told a thousand years ago in +distant Iceland, and as it is retold in this poem by William Morris. + + + + +THE STORY OF +SIGURD THE VOLSUNG. + + +BOOK I. + +SIGMUND. + + +_Of the dwelling of King Volsung, and the wedding of Signy his +daughter._ + + + There was a dwelling of Kings ere the world was waxen old; + Dukes were the door-wards there, and the roofs were thatched with gold: + Earls were the wrights that wrought it, and silver nailed its doors; + Earls' wives were the weaving-women, queens' daughters strewed its floors, + And the masters of its song-craft were the mightiest men that cast + The sails of the storm of battle adown the bickering blast. + There dwelt men merry-hearted, and in hope exceeding great + Met the good days and the evil as they went the way of fate: + There the Gods were unforgotten, yea whiles they walked with men, + Though e'en in that world's beginning rose a murmur now and again + Of the midward time and the fading and the last of the latter days, + And the entering in of the terror, and the death of the People's Praise. + + Thus was the dwelling of Volsung, the King of the Midworld's Mark, + As a rose in the winter season, a candle in the dark; + And as in all other matters 'twas all earthly houses' crown, + And the least of its wall-hung shields was a battle-world's renown, + So therein withal was a marvel and a glorious thing to see, + For amidst of its midmost hall-floor sprang up a mighty tree, + That reared its blessings roofward, and wreathed the roof-tree dear + With the glory of the summer and the garland of the year. + I know not how they called it ere Volsung changed his life, + But his dawning of fair promise, and his noontide of the strife, + His eve of the battle-reaping and the garnering of his fame, + Have bred us many a story and named us many a name; + And when men tell of Volsung, they call that war-duke's tree, + That crowned stem, the Branstock; and so was it told unto me. + + So there was the throne of Volsung beneath its blossoming bower, + But high o'er the roof-crest red it rose 'twixt tower and tower, + And therein were the wild hawks dwelling, abiding the dole of their lord; + And they wailed high over the wine, and laughed to the waking sword. + + Still were its boughs but for them, when lo, on an even of May + Comes a man from Siggeir the King with a word for his mouth to say: + "All hail to thee King Volsung, from the King of the Goths I come: + He hath heard of thy sword victorious and thine abundant home; + He hath heard of thy sons in the battle, the fillers of Odin's Hall; + And a word hath the west-wind blown him, (full fruitful be its fall!) + A word of thy daughter Signy the crown of womanhood: + Now he deems thy friendship goodly, and thine help in the battle good, + And for these will he give his friendship and his battle-aid again: + But if thou wouldst grant his asking, and make his heart full fain, + Then shalt thou give him a matter, saith he, without a price, + --Signy the fairer than fair, Signy the wiser than wise." + +Now the message gladdened Volsung and his sons, but no word spake +Signy, till the king asked her what her mind might be. Then said +Signy, "I will wed the Goth king, and yet shall I rue my lot in his +hall." And Volsung urged her with kind words to do nought against her +will, but her mind was fixed, and she said she wrought but what the +gods had fore-ordained. So the earl of Siggeir went his way with +gifts and fair words, bidding the Goth king come ere a month was over +to wed the white-handed Signy and bear her home. + + So on Mid-Summer Even ere the undark night began + Siggeir the King of the Goth-folk went up from the bath of the swan + Unto the Volsung dwelling with many an Earl about; + There through the glimmering thicket the linked mail rang out, + And sang as mid the woodways sings the summer-hidden ford: + There were gold-rings God-fashioned, and many a Dwarf-wrought sword, + And many a Queen-wrought kirtle and many a written spear; + So came they to the acres, and drew the threshold near, + And amidst of the garden blossoms, on the grassy, fruit-grown land, + Was Volsung the King of the Wood-world with his sons on either hand; + Therewith down lighted Siggeir the lord of a mighty folk, + Yet showed he by King Volsung as the bramble by the oak, + Nor reached his helm to the shoulder of the least of Volsung's sons. + And so into the hall they wended, the Kings and their mighty ones; + And they dight the feast full glorious, and drank through the death of the + day, + Till the shadowless moon rose upward, till it wended white away; + Then they went to the gold-hung beds, and at last for an hour or twain + Were all things still and silent, save a flaw of the summer rain. + + But on the morrow noontide when the sun was high and bare, + More glorious was the banquet, and now was Signy there, + And she sat beside King Siggeir, a glorious bride forsooth; + Ruddy and white was she wrought as the fair-stained sea-beast's tooth, + But she neither laughed nor spake, and her eyes were hard and cold, + And with wandering side-long looks her lord would she behold. + That saw Sigmund her brother, the eldest Volsung son, + And oft he looked upon her, and their eyes met now and anon, + And ruth arose in his heart, and hate of Siggeir the Goth, + And there had he broken the wedding, but for plighted promise and troth. + But those twain were beheld of Siggeir, and he deemed of the Volsung kin, + That amid their might and their malice small honour should he win; + Yet thereof made he no semblance, but abided times to be, + And laughed out with the loudest, amid the hope and the glee. + And nought of all saw Volsung, as he dreamed of the coming glory, + And how the Kings of his kindred should fashion the round world's story. + + So round about the Branstock they feast in the gleam of the gold; + And though the deeds of man-folk were not yet waxen old, + Yet had they tales for songcraft, and the blossomed garth of rhyme; + Tales of the framing of all things and the entering in of time + From the halls of the outer heaven; so near they knew the door. + Wherefore uprose a sea-king, and his hands that loved the oar + Now dealt with the rippling harp-gold, and he sang of the shaping of earth, + And how the stars were lighted, and where the winds had birth, + And the gleam of the first of summers on the yet untrodden grass. + But e'en as men's hearts were hearkening some heard the thunder pass + O'er the cloudless noontide heaven; and some men turned about + And deemed that in the doorway they heard a man laugh out. + Then into the Volsung dwelling a mighty man there strode, + One-eyed and seeming ancient, yet bright his visage glowed: + Cloud-blue was the hood upon him, and his kirtle gleaming-grey + As the latter morning sundog when the storm is on the way: + A bill he bore on his shoulder, whose mighty ashen beam + Burnt bright with the flame of the sea and the blended silver's gleam. + And such was the guise of his raiment as the Volsung elders had told + Was borne by their fathers' fathers, and the first that warred in the wold. + + So strode he to the Branstock nor greeted any lord, + But forth from his cloudy raiment he drew a gleaming sword, + And smote it deep in the tree-hole, and the wild hawks overhead + Laughed 'neath the naked heaven as at last he spake and said: + + "Earls of the Goths, and Volsungs, abiders on the earth, + Lo there amid the Branstock a blade of plenteous worth! + The folk of the war-wand's forgers wrought never better steel + Since first the burg of heaven uprose for man-folk's weal. + Now let the man among you whose heart and hand may shift + To pluck it from the oakwood e'en take it for my gift. + Then ne'er, but his own heart falter, its point and edge shall fail + Until the night's beginning and the ending of the tale. + Be merry Earls of the Goth-folk, O Volsung Sons be wise + And reap the battle-acre that ripening for you lies: + For they told me in the wild wood, I heard on the mountain side, + That the shining house of heaven is wrought exceeding wide, + And that there the Early-comers shall have abundant rest + While Earth grows scant of great ones, and fadeth from its best, + And fadeth from its midward and groweth poor and vile:-- + All hail to thee King Volsung! farewell for a little while!" + + So sweet his speaking sounded, so wise his words did seem, + That moveless all men sat there, as in a happy dream + We stir not lest we waken; but there his speech had end, + And slowly down the hall-floor, and outward did he wend; + And none would cast him a question or follow on his ways, + For they knew that the gift was Odin's, a sword for the world to praise. + + But now spake Volsung the King: "Why sit ye silent and still? + Is the Battle-Father's visage a token of terror and ill? + Arise O Volsung Children, Earls of the Goths arise, + And set your hands to the hilts as mighty men and wise! + Yet deem it not too easy; for belike a fateful blade + Lies there in the heart of the Branstock for a fated warrior made." + + Now therewith spake King Siggeir: "King Volsung give me a grace + To try it the first of all men, lest another win my place + And mere chance-hap steal my glory and the gain that I might win." + + Then somewhat laughed King Volsung, and he said: "O Guest, begin; + Though herein is the first as the last, for the Gods have long to live, + Nor hath Odin yet forgotten unto whom the gift he would give." + + Then forth to the tree went Siggeir, the Goth-folk's mighty lord, + And laid his hand on the gemstones, and strained at the glorious sword + Till his heart grew black with anger; and never a word he said + As he wended back to the high-seat: but Signy waxed blood-red + When he sat him adown beside her; and her heart was nigh to break + For the shame and the fateful boding: and therewith King Volsung spake: + + "Thus comes back empty-handed the mightiest King of Earth, + And how shall the feeble venture? yet each man knows his worth; + And today may a great beginning from a little seed upspring + To o'erpass many a great one that hath the name of King: + So stand forth free and unfree; stand forth both most and least: + But first ye Earls of the Goth-folk, ye lovely lords we feast." + + Upstood the Earls of Siggeir, and each man drew anigh + And deemed his time was coming for a glorious gain and high; + But for all their mighty shaping and their deeds in the battle-wood, + No looser in the Branstock that gift of Odin stood. + Then uprose Volsung's homemen, and the fell-abiding folk; + And the yellow-headed shepherds came gathering round the Oak, + And the searchers of the thicket and the dealers with the oar: + And the least and the worst of them all was a mighty man of war. + But for all their mighty shaping, and the struggle and the strain + Of their hands, the deft in labour, they tugged thereat in vain; + And still as the shouting and jeers, and the names of men and the laughter + Beat backward from gable to gable, and rattled o'er roof-tree and rafter, + Moody and still sat Siggeir; for he said: "They have trained me here + As a mock for their woodland bondsmen; and yet shall they buy it dear." + + Now the tumult sank a little, and men cried on Volsung the King + And his sons, the hedge of battle, to try the fateful thing. + So Volsung laughed, and answered: "I will set me to the toil, + Lest these my guests of the Goth-folk should deem I fear the foil. + Yet nought am I ill-sworded, and the oldest friend is best; + And this, my hand's first fellow, will I bear to the grave-mound's rest, + Nor wield meanwhile another: Yea, this shall I have in hand + When mid the host of Odin in the Day of Doom I stand." + + Therewith from his belt of battle he raised the golden sheath, + And showed the peace-strings glittering about the hidden death: + Then he laid his hand on the Branstock, and cried: "O tree beloved, + I thank thee of thy good-heart that so little thou art moved: + Abide thou thus, green bower, when I am dead and gone + And the best of all my kindred a better day hath won!" + + Then as a young man laughed he, and on the hilts of gold + His hand, the battle-breaker, took fast and certain hold, + And long he drew and strained him, but mended not the tale, + Yet none the more thereover his mirth of heart did fail; + But he wended to the high-seat and thence began to cry: + + "Sons I have gotten and cherished, now stand ye forth to try; + Lest Odin tell in God-home how from the way he strayed, + And how to the man he would not he gave away his blade." + So therewithal rose Rerir, and wasted might and main; + Then Gunthiof, and then Hunthiof, they wearied them in vain; + Nought was the might of Agnar; nought Helgi could avail; + Sigi the tall and Solar no further brought the tale, + Nor Geirmund the priest of the temple, nor Gylfi of the wood. + + At last by the side of the Branstock Sigmund the Volsung stood, + And with right hand wise in battle the precious sword-hilt caught, + Yet in a careless fashion, as he deemed it all for nought: + When lo, from floor to rafter went up a shattering shout, + For aloft in the hand of Sigmund the naked blade shone out + As high o'er his head he shook it: for the sword had come away + From the grip of the heart of the Branstock, as though all loose it lay. + A little while he stood there mid the glory of the hall, + Like the best of the trees of the garden, when the April sunbeams fall + On its blossomed boughs in the morning, and tell of the days to be; + Then back unto the high-seat he wended soberly; + For this was the thought within him; Belike the day shall come + When I shall bide here lonely amid the Volsung home, + Its glory and sole avenger, its after-summer seed. + Yea, I am the hired of Odin, his workday will to speed, + And the harvest-tide shall be heavy.--What then, were it come and past + And I laid by the last of the sheaves with my wages earned at the last? + + He lifted his eyes as he thought it, for now was he come to his place, + And there he stood by his father and met Siggeir face to face, + And he saw him blithe and smiling, and heard him how he spake: + "O best of the sons of Volsung, I am merry for thy sake + And the glory that thou hast gained us; but whereas thine hand and heart + Are e'en now the lords of the battle, how lack'st thou for thy part + A matter to better the best? Wilt thou overgild fine gold + Or dye the red rose redder? So I prithee let me hold + This sword that comes to thine hand on the day I wed thy kin. + For at home have I a store-house; there is mountain-gold therein + The weight of a war-king's harness; there is silver plenteous store; + There is iron, and huge-wrought amber, that the southern men love sore, + When they sell me the woven wonder, the purple born of the sea; + And it hangeth up in that bower, and all this is a gift for thee: + But the sword that came to my wedding, methinketh it meet and right, + That it lie on my knees in the council and stead me in the fight." + + But Sigmund laughed and answered, and he spake a scornful word: + "And if I take twice that treasure, will it buy me Odin's sword, + And the gift that the Gods have given? will it buy me again to stand + Betwixt two mightiest world-kings with a longed-for thing in mine hand + That all their might hath missed of? when the purple-selling men + Come buying thine iron and amber, dost thou sell thine honour then? + Do they wrap it in bast of the linden, or run it in moulds of earth? + And shalt thou account mine honour as a matter of lesser worth? + Came the sword to thy wedding, Goth-king, to thine hand it never came, + And thence is thine envy whetted to deal me this word of shame." + + Black then was the heart of Siggeir, but his face grew pale and red, + Till he drew a smile thereover, and spake the word and said: + "Nay, pardon me, Signy's kinsman! when the heart desires o'ermuch + It teacheth the tongue ill speaking, and my word belike was such. + But the honour of thee and thy kindred, I hold it even as mine, + And I love you as my heart-blood, and take ye this for a sign. + I bid thee now King Volsung, and these thy glorious sons, + And thine earls and thy dukes of battle and all thy mighty ones, + To come to the house of the Goth-kings as honoured guests and dear + And abide the winter over; that the dusky days and drear + May be glorious with thy presence, that all folk may praise my life, + And the friends that my fame hath gotten; and that this my new-wed wife + Thine eyes may make the merrier till she bear my eldest born." + + Then speedily answered Volsung: "No king of the earth might scorn + Such noble bidding, Siggeir; and surely will I come + To look upon thy glory and the Goths' abundant home. + But let two months wear over, for I have many a thing + To shape and shear in the Woodland, as befits a people's king: + And thou meanwhile here abiding of all my goods shalt be free, + And then shall we twain together roof over the glass-green sea + With the sides of our golden dragons; and our war-hosts' blended shields + Shall fright the sea-abiders and the folk of the fishy fields." + + Answered the smooth-speeched Siggeir: "I thank thee well for this, + And thy bidding is most kingly; yet take it not amiss + That I wend my ways in the morning; for we Goth-folk know indeed + That the sea is a foe full deadly, and a friend that fails at need." + + * * * * * + + And for all the words of Volsung e'en so must the matter be, + And Siggeir the Goth and Signy on the morn shall sail the sea. + +Then the feast sped on the fairer, far into the night, but amidst the +mirth Sigmund and Signy were sad at heart. And before the sun was +risen next day Signy came to her father in secret and begged him to +stay in his own country rather than trust the guileful heart and +murder-loving hand of Siggeir. But Volsung answered that he must go +to be Siggeir's guest, for he could not break his pledged word +through fear of peril. So on the morrow the smooth-speeched Siggeir +departed with Signy, and when two months were passed Volsung made +ready to visit them. + + +_How the Volsungs fared to the Land of the Goths, and of the +fall of King Volsung._ + + * * * * * + + So now, when all things were ready, in the first of the autumn tide + Adown unto the swan-bath the Volsung Children ride; + And lightly go a shipboard, a goodly company, + Though the tale thereof be scanty and their ships no more than three: + But kings' sons dealt with the sail-sheets and earls and dukes of war + Were the halers of the hawsers and the tuggers at the oar. + + * * * * * + + But when the sun on the morrow shone over earth and sea + Ashore went the Volsung Children a goodly company, + And toward King Siggeir's dwelling o'er heath and holt they went. + But when they came to the topmost of a certain grassy bent, + Lo there lay the land before them as thick with shield and spear + As the rich man's wealthiest acre with the harvest of the year. + There bade King Volsung tarry and dight the wedge-array; + "For duly," he said, "doeth Siggeir to meet his guests by the way." + So shield by shield they serried, nor ever hath been told + Of any host of battle more glorious with the gold; + And there stood the high King Volsung in the very front of war; + And lovelier was his visage than ever heretofore, + As he rent apart the peace-strings that his brand of battle bound + And the bright blade gleamed to the heavens, and he cast the sheath to the + ground. + Then up the steep came the Goth-folk, and the spear-wood drew anigh, + And earth's face shook beneath them, yet cried they never a cry; + And the Volsungs stood all silent, although forsooth at whiles + O'er the faces grown earth-weary would play the flickering smiles, + And swords would clink and rattle: not long had they to bide, + For soon that flood of murder flowed round the hillock-side; + Then at last the edges mingled, and if men forbore the shout, + Yet the din of steel and iron in the grey clouds rang about; + But how to tell of King Volsung, and the valour of his folk! + Three times the wood of battle before their edges broke; + And the shield-wall, sorely dwindled and reft of the ruddy gold, + Against the drift of the war-blast for the fourth time yet did hold. + But men's shields were waxen heavy with the weight of shafts they bore, + And the fifth time many a champion cast earthward Odin's door + And gripped the sword two-handed; and in sheaves the spears came on. + And at last the host of the Goth-folk within the shield-wall won, + And wild was the work within it, and oft and o'er again + Forth brake the sons of Volsung, and drave the foe in vain; + For the driven throng still thickened, till it might not give aback. + But fast abode King Volsung amid the shifting wrack + In the place where once was the forefront: for he said: "My feet are old, + And if I wend on further there is nought more to behold + Than this that I see about me."--Whiles drew his foes away + And stared across the corpses that before his sword-edge lay. + But nought he followed after: then needs must they in front + Thrust on by the thickening spear-throng come up to bear the brunt, + Till all his limbs were weary and his body rent and torn: + Then he cried: "Lo now, Allfather, is not the swathe well shorn? + Wouldst thou have me toil for ever, nor win the wages due?" + + And mid the hedge of foemen his blunted sword he threw, + And, laid like the oars of a longship the level war-shafts pressed + On 'gainst the unshielded elder, and clashed amidst his breast; + And dead he fell, thrust backward, and rang on the dead men's gear: + But still for a certain season durst no man draw anear, + For 'twas e'en as a great God's slaying, and they feared the wrath of + the sky; + And they deemed their hearts might harden if awhile they should let him lie. + + +_Of the ending of all Volsung's Sons save Sigmund only, and of how +he abideth in the wild wood._ + +They joined battle again, but the fight grew feeble after Volsung +fell, and his earls were struck down one by one. Last of all, his sons +were borne to earth and carried captive to the hall, where Siggeir +awaited them, for he himself had feared to face the Volsung swords. + +Then he would have slain them at once without torture, but Signy +besought him that they might breathe the earthly air a day or two +before their death, and he listened to her, for he saw how he might +thus give them greater pain. He bade his men lead them to a glade in +the forest and fetter them to the mightiest tree that grew there. So +the ten Volsungs were fettered with iron to a great oak, and on the +morrow Siggeir's woodmen told him sweet tidings, for beasts of the +wood had devoured two and left their bones in the fetters. So it +befell every night till the woodmen brought word that nothing +remained of the king's foemen save their bones in the fetters that +had bound them. + +Now a watch had been set on Signy lest she should send help to her +brethren, but henceforth no man hindered her from going out to the +wood. So that night she came to the glade in the forest, and saw in +the midst of it a mighty man who was toiling to dig a grave in the +greensward. + + And behold, it was Sigmund the Volsung: but she cried and had no fear: + + "If thou art living, Sigmund, what day's work dost thou here + In the midnight and the forest? but if thou art nought but a ghost + Then where are those Volsung brethren, of whom thou wert best and most?" + + Then he turned about unto her, and his raiment was fouled and torn, + And his eyen were great and hollow, as a famished man forlorn; + + But he cried: "Hail, Sister Signy! I looked for thee before, + Though what should a woman compass, she one alone and no more, + When all we shielded Volsungs did nought in Siggeir's land? + O yea, I am living indeed, and this labour of mine hand + Is to bury the bones of the Volsungs; and lo, it is well-nigh done. + So draw near, Volsung's daughter, and pile we many a stone + Where lie the grey wolf's gleanings of what was once so good." + + So she set her hand to the labour, and they toiled, they twain in the wood, + And when the work was over, dead night was beginning to fall: + Then spake the white-hand Signy: "Now shall thou tell the tale + Of the death of the Volsung brethren ere the wood thy wrath shall hide, + Ere I wend me back sick-hearted in the dwelling of kings to abide." + +Then said Sigmund: + +"We lay fettered to the tree and at midnight there came from the +thicket two mighty wood-wolves, and falling on my brethren Gylfi and +Geirmund, they devoured them in their bonds, and turned again to the +forest. Night after night, my sister, this befell, till I was left +alone with our brother Sigi to await the wood-beasts. Then came +midnight, and one of the wolves fell upon Sigi and the other turned +on me. But I met it with snarling like its own, and my teeth gripped +its throat, and my hands strove with the fetters till they burst. So +I slew the beast with my irons, but when I looked, Sigi lay dead, and +the other wolf had fled again to the thicket. Then I lay hid till +Siggeir's woodmen had looked on the place and departed with their +tidings, and as I beheld them I knew that pity was killed in my +heart, and that henceforward I should live but to avenge me on him +who hath so set the gods at nought." Then Signy spake noble words of +comfort, saying: "I wot well that Siggeir shall pay the due price of +his deeds, though the vengeance may tarry long, and I wot also that +thy life shall yet know gladness. Bear a stout heart, therefore, to +meet the waiting time, and make thee a lair in the woods whence thou +mayest fall on men of the Goth-folk, and win what thy life needeth. +As for me, I will see thy face once again ere many days are past to +wot where thou dwellest and then must we meet no more." + +And so saying, she kissed him and departed, but Sigmund turned in the +dawn-light, and sought a wood-lair as she had bidden him. + + +_Of the fostering of Sinfiotli, Signy's son, and of the slaying of +Siggeir the Goth-king._ + + So wrought is the will of King Siggeir, and he weareth Odin's sword + And it lies on his knees in the council and hath no other lord: + And he sendeth earls o'er the sea-flood to take King Volsung's land, + And those scattered and shepherdless sheep must come beneath his hand. + And he holdeth the milk-white Signy as his handmaid and his wife, + And nought but his will she doeth, nor raiseth a word of strife; + So his heart is praising his wisdom, and he deems him of most avail + Of all the lords of the cunning that teacheth how to prevail. + +Now Sigmund dwelt long in the wild-wood, abiding in a strong cave deep +hidden in a thicket by the river-side. + +And now and again he fell upon the folk of Siggeir as they journeyed, +and slew them, and thus he had war-gear and gold as much as he would. +Also he became a master of masters in the smithying craft, and the +folk who beheld the gleam of his forge by night, deemed that a king +of the Giants was awakened from death to dwell there, and they durst +not wander near the cavern. + +So passed the years till on a springtide morning Signy sent forth to +Sigmund a damsel leading her eldest son, a child of ten summers, and +bearing a word of her mouth to bid him foster the child for his +helper, if he should prove worthy and bold-hearted. And Sigmund +heeded her words and fostered the child for the space of three months +even though he could give no love to a son of Siggeir. + +At last he was minded to try the boy's courage, to which end he set a +deadly ash-grey adder in the meal-sack, and bade the child bake bread. +But he feared when he found something that moved in the meal and had +not courage to do the task. Then would Sigmund foster him no longer, +but thrust him out from the woods to return to his father's hall. + +So ten years won over again, and Signy sent another son to the +wild-wood, and the lad was called Sinfiotli. Sigmund thrust him into +many dangers, and burdened him with heavy loads, and he bore all +passing well. + +Now after a year Sigmund deemed that the time for his testing was +come, and once again he set an adder in the meal-sack and bade the +lad bake bread. And the boy feared not the worm, but kneaded it with +the dough and baked all together. So Sigmund cherished him as his own +son, and he grew strong and valiant and loved Sigmund as his father. + +Now Sigmund began to ponder how he might at last take vengeance on +Siggeir, and gladly did Sinfiotli hear him, for all his love was +given to Sigmund, so that he no longer deemed himself the Goth-king's +son. + +At last when the long mirk nights of winter were come, Sigmund and his +foster-son went their way to the home of Siggeir and sought to lurk +therein. Then Sinfiotli led the way to a storehouse where lay great +wine-casks, and whence they could see the lighted feast-hall, and +hear the clamour of Siggeir's folk. There they had to abide the time +when the feasters should be hushed in sleep. Long seemed the hours to +Sinfiotli, but Sigmund was calm and clear-eyed. + +Then it befell that two of Queen Signy's youngest-born children threw +a golden toy hither and thither in the feast-hall, and at last it +rolled away among the wine-casks till it lay at Sigmund's feet. So the +children followed it, and coming face to face with those lurkers, they +fled back to the feast-hall. And Sigmund and his foster-son saw all +hope was ended, for they heard the rising tumult as men ran to their +weapons; so they made ready to go forth and die in the hall. Then on +came the battle around the twain, and but short is the tale to tell, +for Sinfiotli slipped on the blood-stained floor and the shield wall +encompassed Sigmund, and so they were both hoppled strait and fast. + +The Goth-folk washed their hall of blood and got them to slumber, but +Siggeir lay long pondering what dire death he might bring on his foes. + +Now at the first grey dawning Siggeir's folk dight a pit and it had +two chambers with a sundering stone in the midst. Then they brought +the Volsung kindred and set them therein, one in each chamber, that +they might abide death alone, and yet in hearing of one another's woe. +And over the top the thralls laid roofing turfs, but so lingering were +their hands that eve drew on ere the task was finished. Then stole +Signy forth in the dusk, and spake the thralls fair, and gave them +gold that they might hold their peace of what she did. And when they +gainsaid her nought she drew out something wrapped in wheat straw, and +cast it down swiftly into the pit where Sinfiotli lay, and departed. + +Sinfiotli at first deemed it food, but after a space Sigmund heard him +laugh aloud for joy, for within the wrappings lay the sword of the +Branstock. And Sinfiotli cried out the joyous tidings to his +foster-father, and tarried not to set the point to the stone that +sundered them, and lo, the blade pierced through, and Sigmund grasped +the point. Then sawed Sigmund and Sinfiotli together till they cleft +the stone, and they hewed full hard at the roofing, till they cast the +turfs aside, and their hearts were gladdened with the sight of the +starry heaven. + +Forth they leapt, and no words were needed of whither they should +wend, but they fell on King Siggeir's night-watch and slew them +sleeping, and made haste to find the store of winter faggots, +wherewith they built a mighty bale about the hall of Siggeir. They +set a torch to the bale, and Sigmund gat him to one hall door and +Sinfiotli to the other, and now the Goth-folk awoke to their last +of days. + +Then cried Siggeir to his thralls and offered them joyous life-days +and plenteous wealth if they would give him life, deeming that they +had fired the hall in hatred. But there came a great voice crying +from the door, "Nay, no toilers are we; wealth is ours when we list, +but now our hearts are set to avenge our kin; now hath the murder +seed sprung and borne its fruit; now the death-doomed and buried work +this deed; now doom draweth nigh thee at the hand of Sigmund the +Volsung, and Sinfiotli, Signy's son." + +Then the voice cried again, "Come ye forth, women of the Goths, and +thou, O Signy, my sister, come forth to seek the boughs of the +Branstock." So fled the white-faced women from the fire, and passed +scatheless by Sinfiotli's blade, but Signy came not at all. Then the +earls of Siggeir strove to burst from the hall, but ever the two +glaives at the doorways drove them back to the fire. + +And, lo, now came Signy in queenly raiment, and stood before Sinfiotli +and said, "O mightiest son, this is the hour of our parting, and fain +am I of slumber and the end of my toil now I have seen this day. And +the blither do I leave thee because thy days on earth shall be but +few; I charge thee make thy life glorious, and leave a goodly tale." + +She kissed him and turned to Sigmund, and her face in the dawn-light +seemed to him fair and ruddy as in the days when they twain dwelt by +the Branstock. And she said, "My youth was happy, yet this hour is +the crown of my life-days which draw nigh their ending. And now I +charge thee, Sigmund, when thou sittest once more a mighty king +beneath the boughs of the Branstock, that thou remember how I loved +the Volsung name, and spared not to spend all that was mine for its +blossoming." Then she kissed him and turned again, and the dawn +brightened at her back, and the fire shone red before her, and so for +the last time was Signy beheld by the eyes of men. Thereafter King +Siggeir's roof-tree bowed earthward, and the mighty walls crashed +down, and so that dark murder-hall lay wasted, and its glory was +swept away. + + +_How Sigmund cometh to the Land of the Volsungs again, and of the +death of Sinfiotli his Son._ + + Now Sigmund the king bestirs him, and Sinfiotli, Sigmund's son, + And they gather a host together, and many a mighty one; + Then they set the ships in the sea-flood and sail from the stranger's shore, + And the beaks of the golden dragons see the Volsungs' land once more; + And men's hearts are fulfilled of joyance; and they cry, The sun shines now + With never a curse to hide it, and they shall reap that sow! + Then for many a day sits Sigmund 'neath the boughs of the Branstock green, + With his earls and lords about him as the Volsung wont hath been. + And oft he thinketh on Signy and oft he nameth her name, + And tells how she spent her joyance and her life-days and her fame + That the Volsung kin might blossom and bear the fruit of worth + For the hope of unborn people and the harvest of the earth. + And again he thinks of the word that he spake that other day, + How he should abide there lonely when his kin was passed away, + Their glory and sole avenger, their after-summer seed. + +But far and wide went Sinfiotli through the earth, mowing the war +swathe and wasting the land, and passing but little time in song and +laughter in his father's hall. So went his days in warfare and valour, +and yet his end was not glorious, for he drank of the poisoned cup +given him by the sister of a warrior he had rightly slain. + +None might come nigh Sigmund in his anguish as he lifted the head of +his fallen foster-child, and then swiftly bare him from the hall. On +he went through dark thicket and over wind-swept heath, past the +foot-hills and the homes of the deer, till he came to a great rushing +water, whereon was a white-sailed boat, manned by a mighty man, +"one-eyed and seeming ancient." This mighty one told Sigmund he had +been bidden to waft a great king over the water, and bade him lay his +burden on board, but when Sigmund would have followed he could see +neither ship nor man. + +But Sigmund went back to his throne, and behaved himself as a king, +listening to his people's plaints, and dealing out justice. + + +_Of the last battle of King Sigmund, and the death of him._ + + Now there was a king of the Islands, whom the tale doth Eylimi call, + And saith he was wise and valiant, though his kingdom were but small: + He had one only daughter that Hiordis had to name, + A woman wise and shapely beyond the praise of fame. + And now saith the son of King Volsung that his time is short enow + To labour the Volsung garden, and the hand must be set to the plough: + So he sendeth an earl of the people to King Eylimi's high-built hall, + Bearing the gifts and the tokens, and this word in his mouth withal: + + "King Sigmund the son of Volsung hath sent me here with a word + That plenteous good of thy daughter among all folk he hath heard, + And he wooeth that wisest of women that she may sit on his throne. + + * * * * * + + "Now hereof would he have an answer within a half-month's space, + And these gifts meanwhile he giveth for the increase of thy grace." + + So King Eylimi hearkened the message, and hath no word to say, + For an earl of King Lyngi the mighty is come that very day, + He too for the wooing of Hiordis: and Lyngi's realm is at hand, + But afar King Sigmund abideth o'er many a sea and land: + And the man is young and eager, and grim and guileful of mood. + + At last he sayeth: "Abide here such space as thou deemest good, + But tomorn shalt thou have thine answer that thine heart may the lighter be, + For the hearkening of harp and songcraft, and the dealing with game and + glee." + Then he went to Queen Hiordis' bower, where she worked in the silk and the + gold + The deeds of the world that should be, and the deeds that were of old. + And he stood before her and said: + +"Often have I told thee that thou shouldst wed only the man thou +wouldst. Now it hath come to pass that two kings desire thee." + +And she swiftly rose to her feet as she said, "And which be they?" + + He spake: "The first is Lyngi, a valiant man and a fair, + A neighbour ill for thy father, if a foe's name he must bear: + And the next is King Sigmund the Volsung of a land far over sea, + And well thou knowest his kindred, and his might and his valiancy, + And the tales of his heart of a God; and though old he be waxen now, + Yet men deem that the wide world's blossom from Sigmund's loins shall grow." + + Said Hiordis: "I wot, my father, that hereof may strife arise; + Yet soon spoken is mine answer; for I, who am called the wise, + Shall I thrust by the praise of the people, and the tale that no ending + hath, + And the love and the heart of the godlike, and the heavenward-leading path, + For the rose and the stem of the lily, and the smooth-lipped youngling's + kiss, + And the eyes' desire that passeth, and the frail unstable bliss? + Now shalt thou tell King Sigmund, that I deem it the crown of my life + To dwell in the house of his fathers amidst all peace and strife." + + * * * * * + + Now the king's heart sore misgave him, but herewith must he be content, + And great gifts to the earl of Lyngi and a word withal he sent, + That the woman's troth was plighted to another people's king. + But King Sigmund's earl on the morrow hath joyful yea-saying, + And ere two moons be perished he shall fetch his bride away. + "And bid him," King Eylimi sayeth, "to come with no small array, + But with sword and shield and war-shaft, lest aught of ill betide." + + So forth goes the earl of Sigmund across the sea-flood wide, + And comes to the land of the Volsungs, and meeteth Sigmund the king, + And tells how he sped on his errand, and the joyful yea-saying. + So King Sigmund maketh him ready, and they ride adown to the sea + All glorious of gear and raiment, and a goodly company. + Yet hath Sigmund thought of his father, and the deed he wrought before, + And hath scorn to gather his people and all his hosts of war + To wend to the feast and the wedding: yet are their long-ships ten, + And the shielded folk aboard them are the mightiest men of men. + So Sigmund goeth a shipboard, and they hoist their sails to the wind, + And the beaks of the golden dragons leave the Volsungs' land behind. + Then come they to Eylimi's kingdom, and good welcome have they there, + And when Sigmund looked on Hiordis, he deemed her wise and fair. + But her heart was exceeding fain when she saw the glorious king, + And it told her of times that should be full many a noble thing. + + So there is Sigmund wedded at a great and goodly feast, + And day by day on Hiordis the joy of her heart increased; + And her father joyed in Sigmund and his might and majesty, + And dead in the heart of the Isle-king his ancient fear did lie. + + Yet, forsooth, had men looked seaward, they had seen the gathering cloud, + And the little wind arising, that should one day pipe so loud. + For well may ye wot indeed that King Lyngi the Mighty is wroth, + When he getteth the gifts and the answer, and that tale of the woman's + troth: + And he saith he will have the gifts and the woman herself withal, + Either for loving or hating, and that both those heads shall fall. + So now when Sigmund and Hiordis are wedded a month or more, + And the Volsung bids men dight them to cross the sea-flood o'er, + Lo, how there cometh the tidings of measureless mighty hosts + Who are gotten ashore from their long-ships on the skirts of King Eylimi's + coasts. + + Sore boded the heart of the Isle-king of what the end should be. + But Sigmund long beheld him, and he said: "Thou deem'st of me + That my coming hath brought thee evil; but put aside such things; + For long have I lived, and I know it, that the lives of mighty kings + Are not cast away, nor drifted like the down before the wind; + And surely I know, who say it, that never would Hiordis' mind + Have been turned to wed King Lyngi or aught but the Volsung seed. + Come, go we forth to the battle, that shall be the latest deed + Of thee and me meseemeth: yea, whether thou live or die, + No more shall the brand of Odin at peace in his scabbard lie." + + And therewith he brake the peace-strings and drew the blade of bale, + And Death on the point abided, Fear sat on the edges pale. + + So men ride adown to the sea-strand, and the kings their hosts array + When the high noon flooded heaven; and the men of the Volsungs lay, + With King Eylimi's shielded champions mid Lyngi's hosts of war, + As the brown pips lie in the apple when ye cut it through the core. + + But now when the kings were departed, from the King's house Hiordis went, + And before men joined the battle she came to a woody bent, + Where she lay with one of her maidens the death and the deeds to behold. + + In the noon sun shone King Sigmund as an image all of gold, + And he stood before the foremost and the banner of his fame, + And many a thing he remembered, and he called on each earl by his name + To do well for the house of the Volsungs, and the ages yet unborn. + Then he tossed up the sword of the Branstock, and blew on his father's horn, + Dread of so many a battle, doom-song of so many a man. + Then all the earth seemed moving as the hosts of Lyngi ran + On the Volsung men and the Isle-folk like wolves upon the prey; + But sore was their labour and toil ere the end of their harvesting day. + + On went the Volsung banners, and on went Sigmund before, + And his sword was the flail of the tiller on the wheat of the + wheat-thrashing floor, + And his shield was rent from his arm, and his helm was sheared from his + head: + But who may draw nigh him to smite for the heap and the rampart of dead? + White went his hair on the wind like the ragged drift of the cloud, + And his dust-driven, blood-beaten harness was the death-storm's angry + shroud, + When the summer sun is departing in the first of the night of wrack; + And his sword was the cleaving lightning, that smites and is hurried aback + Ere the hand may rise against it; and his voice was the following thunder. + + Then cold grew the battle before him, dead-chilled with the fear and the + wonder: + For again in his ancient eyes the light of victory gleamed; + From his mouth grown tuneful and sweet the song of his kindred streamed; + And no more was he worn and weary, and no more his life seemed spent: + And with all the hope of his childhood was his wrath of battle blent; + And he thought: A little further, and the river of strife is passed, + And I shall sit triumphant the king of the world at last. + + But lo, through the hedge of the war-shafts a mighty man there came, + One-eyed and seeming ancient, but his visage shone like flame: + Gleaming-grey was his kirtle, and his hood was cloudy blue; + And he bore a mighty twi-bill, as he waded the fight-sheaves through, + And stood face to face with Sigmund, and upheaved the bill to smite. + Once more round the head of the Volsung fierce glittered the Branstock's + light, + The sword that came from Odin; and Sigmund's cry once more + Rang out to the very heavens above the din of war. + Then clashed the meeting edges with Sigmund's latest stroke, + And in shivering shards fell earthward that fear of worldly folk. + But changed were the eyes of Sigmund, and the war-wrath left his face; + For that grey-clad mighty helper was gone, and in his place + Drave on the unbroken spear-wood 'gainst the Volsung's empty hands: + And there they smote down Sigmund, the wonder of all lands, + On the foemen, on the death-heap his deeds had piled that day. + + Ill hour for Sigmund's fellows! they fall like the seeded hay + Before the brown scythes' sweeping, and there the Isle-king fell + In the fore-front of his battle, wherein he wrought right well, + And soon they were nought but foemen who stand upon their feet + On the isle-strand by the ocean where the grass and the sea-sand meet. + + And now hath the conquering War-king another deed to do, + And he saith: "Who now gainsayeth King Lyngi come to woo, + The lord and the overcomer and the bane of the Volsung kin?" + So he fares to the Isle-king's dwelling a wife of the kings to win; + And the host is gathered together, and they leave the field of the dead; + And round as a targe of the Goth-folk the moon ariseth red. + + And so when the last is departed, and she deems they will come not aback, + Fares Hiordis forth from the thicket to the field of the fateful wrack, + And half-dead was her heart for sorrow as she waded the swathes of the + sword. + Not far did she search the death-field ere she found her king and lord + On the heap that his glaive had fashioned: not yet was his spirit past, + Though his hurts were many and grievous, and his life-blood ebbing fast; + And glad were his eyes and open as her wan face over him hung, + And he spake: + "Thou art sick with sorrow, and I would thou wert not so young; + Yet as my days passed shall thine pass; and a short while now it seems + Since my hand first gripped the sword-hilt, and my glory was but in dreams." + + She said: "Thou livest, thou livest! the leeches shall heal thee still." + + "Nay," said he, "my heart hath hearkened to Odin's bidding and will; + For today have mine eyes beheld him: nay, he needed not to speak: + Forsooth I knew of his message and the thing he came to seek. + And now do I live but to tell thee of the days that are yet to come: + And perchance to solace thy sorrow; and then will I get me home + To my kin that are gone before me. Lo, yonder where I stood + The shards of a glaive of battle that was once the best of the good: + Take them and keep them surely. I have lived no empty days; + The Norns were my nursing mothers; I have won the people's praise. + When the Gods for one deed asked me I ever gave them twain; + Spendthrift of glory I was, and great was my life-days' gain; + Now these shards have been my fellow in the work the Gods would have, + But today hath Odin taken the gift that once he gave. + I have wrought for the Volsungs truly, and yet have I known full well + That a better one than I am shall bear the tale to tell: + And for him shall these shards be smithied; and he shall be my son + To remember what I have forgotten and to do what I left undone." + + * * * * * + + Then failed the voice of Sigmund; but so mighty was the man, + That a long while yet he lingered till the dusky night grew wan, + And she sat and sorrowed o'er him, but no more a word he spake. + Then a long way over the sea-flood the day began to break; + And when the sun was arisen a little he turned his head + Till the low beams bathed his eyen, and there lay Sigmund dead. + And the sun rose up on the earth; but where was the Volsung kin + And the folk that the Gods had begotten the praise of all people to win? + + +_How King Sigmund the Volsung was laid in mound on the sea-side +of the Isle-realm._ + + Now Hiordis looked from the dead, and her eyes strayed down to the sea, + And a shielded ship she saw, and a war-dight company, + Who beached the ship for the landing: so swift she fled away, + And once more to the depth of the thicket, wherein her handmaid lay: + And she said: "I have left my lord, and my lord is dead and gone, + And he gave me a charge full heavy, and here are we twain alone, + And earls from the sea are landing: give me thy blue attire, + And take my purple and gold and my crown of the sea-flood's fire, + And be thou the wife of King Volsung when men of our names shall ask, + And I will be the handmaid: now I bid thee to this task, + And I pray thee not to fail me, because of thy faith and truth, + And because I have ever loved thee, and thy mother fostered my youth." + + * * * * * + + So the other nought gainsaith it and they shift their raiment there: + But well-spoken was the maiden, and a woman tall and fair. + + Now the lord of those new-coming men was a king and the son of a king, + King Elf the son of the Helper, and he sailed from warfaring + And drew anigh to the Isle-realm and sailed along the strand; + For the shipmen needed water and fain would go a-land; + And King Elf stood hard by the tiller while the world was yet a-cold: + Then the red sun lit the dawning, and they looked, and lo, behold! + The wrack of a mighty battle, and heaps of the shielded dead, + And a woman alive amidst them, a queen with crowned head, + And her eyes strayed down to the sea-strand, and she saw that weaponed folk, + And turned and fled to the thicket: then the lord of the shipmen spoke: + "Lo, here shall we lack for water, for the brooks with blood shall run, + Yet wend we ashore to behold it and to wot of the deeds late done." + + So they turned their faces to Sigmund, and waded the swathes of the sword. + "O, look ye long," said the Sea-king, "for here lieth a mighty lord: + And all these are the deeds of his war-flame, yet hardy hearts, be sure, + That they once durst look in his face or the wrath of his eyen endure; + Though his lips be glad and smiling as a God that dreameth of mirth. + Would God I were one of his kindred, for none such are left upon earth. + Now fare we into the thicket, for thereto is the woman fled, + And belike she shall tell us the story of this field of the mighty dead." + + So they wend and find the women, and bespeak them kind and fair: + Then spake the gold-crowned handmaid: "Of the Isle-king's house we were, + And I am the Queen called Hiordis; and the man that lies on the field + Was mine own lord Sigmund the Volsung, the mightiest under shield." + + Then all amazed were the sea-folk when they hearkened to that word, + And great and heavy tidings they deem their ears have heard: + But again spake out the Sea-king: "And this blue-clad one beside, + So pale, and as tall as a Goddess, and white and lovely eyed?" + + "In sooth and in troth," said the woman, "my serving-maid is this; + She hath wept long over the battle, and sore afraid she is." + + Now the king looks hard upon her, but he saith no word thereto, + And down again to the death-field with the women-folk they go. + There they set their hands to the labour, and amidst the deadly mead + They raise a mound for Sigmund, a mighty house indeed; + And therein they set that folk-king, and goodly was his throne, + And dight with gold and scarlet: and the walls of the house were done + With the cloven shields of the foemen, and banners borne to field; + But none might find his war-helm or the splinters of his shield, + And clenched and fast was his right hand, but no sword therein he had: + For Hiordis spake to the shipmen: + "Our lord and master bade + That the shards of his glaive of battle should go with our lady the Queen: + And by them that lie a-dying a many things are seen." + + +_How Queen Hiordis is known; and how she abideth in the house of +Elf the son of the Helper._ + +Then Elf asked of the two women where they would go, and they prayed +that he would take them to his land, where they dwelt for long in all +honour. + +But the old queen, the mother of Elf, was indeed a woman wise above +many, and fain would she know why the less noble of the two was +dressed the more richly and why the handmaid gave always wiser +counsel than her mistress. So she bade her son to speak suddenly and +to take them unawares. + +Then he asked the gold-clad one how she knew in the dark winter night +that the dawn was near. She answered that ever in her youth she awoke +at the dawn to follow her daily work, and always was she wont to +drink of whey, and now, though the times were changed, she still woke +athirst near the dawning. + +To Elf it seemed strange that a fair queen in her youth had need to +arise to follow the plough in the dark of the winter morning, and +turning to the handmaid he asked of her the same question. She +replied that in her youth her father had given her the gold ring she +still wore, and which had the magic power of growing cold as the +hours neared daybreak, and such was her dawning sign. + +Then did Elf know of their exchange, and he told Hiordis that long +had he loved her and felt pity for her sorrow, and that he would make +her his wife. So that night she sat on the high-seat with the crown +on her head, and dreamt of what had been and what was to be. + + So passeth the summer season, and the harvest of the year, + And the latter days of the winter on toward the springtide wear. + + + + +BOOK II. + +REGIN. + + +_Of the birth of Sigurd the son of Sigmund._ + + + Peace lay on the land of the Helper and the house of Elf his son; + There merry men went bedward when their tide of toil was done, + And glad was the dawn's awakening, and the noontide fair and glad: + There no great store had the franklin, and enough the hireling had; + And a child might go unguarded the length and breadth of the land + With a purse of gold at his girdle and gold rings on his hand. + 'Twas a country of cunning craftsmen, and many a thing they wrought, + That the lands of storm desired, and the homes of warfare sought. + But men deemed it o'er-well warded by more than its stems of fight, + And told how its earth-born watchers yet lived of plenteous might. + So hidden was that country, and few men sailed its sea, + And none came o'er its mountains of men-folk's company. + But fair-fruited, many-peopled, it lies a goodly strip, + 'Twixt the mountains cloudy-headed and the sea-flood's surging lip, + And a perilous flood is its ocean, and its mountains, who shall tell + What things, in their dales deserted and their wind-swept heaths may dwell. + + * * * * * + + Again, in the house of the Helper there dwelt a certain man + Beardless and low of stature, of visage pinched and wan: + So exceeding old was Regin, that no son of man could tell + In what year of the days passed over he came to that land to dwell: + But the youth of King Elf had he fostered, and the Helper's youth thereto, + Yea and his father's father's: the lore of all men he knew, + And was deft in every cunning, save the dealings of the sword: + So sweet was his tongue-speech fashioned, that men trowed his every word; + His hand with the harp-strings blended was the mingler of delight + With the latter days of sorrow; all tales he told aright; + The Master of the Masters in the smithying craft was he; + And he dealt with the wind and the weather and the stilling of the sea; + Nor might any learn him leech-craft, for before that race was made, + And that man-folk's generation, all their life-days had he weighed. + +In this land of the Helper and Elf, his son, dwelt Hiordis, and here +her son, the last of the Volsungs, was born. The babe had eyes of +such wondrous brightness that the folk shrank from him, while they +rejoiced over his birth, but his mother spake to the babe as to one +who might understand, and she told him of Sigmund and Volsung, of +their wars and their troubles and their joys. Then she gave him to +her maids to bear him to the kings of the land that they might +rejoice with her. + + But there sat the Helper of Men with King Elf and his Earls in the hall, + And they spake of the deeds that had been, and told of the times to befall, + And they hearkened and heard sweet voices and the sound of harps draw nigh, + Till their hearts were exceeding merry and they knew not wherefore or why: + Then, lo, in the hall white raiment, as thither the damsels came, + And amid the hands of the foremost was the woven gold aflame. + + "O daughters of earls," said the Helper, "what tidings then do ye bear? + Is it grief in the merry morning, or joy or wonder or fear?" + + Quoth the first: "It is grief for the foemen that the Masters of God-home + would grieve." + + Said the next: "'Tis a wonder of wonders, that the hearkening world shall + believe." + + "A fear of all fears," said the third, "for the sword is uplifted on men." + + "A joy of all joys," said the fourth, "once come, and it comes not again!" + + * * * * * + + "What then hath betid," said King Elf, "do the high Gods stand in our gate?" + + "Nay," said they, "else were we silent, and they should be telling of fate." + + "Is the bidding come," said the Helper, "that we wend the Gods to see?" + + "Many summers and winters," they said, "ye shall live on the earth, it may + be." + + * * * * * + + "Speak then," said the ancient Helper, "let the worst and the best be said." + + * * * * * + + They said: "The earth is weary: but the tender blade hath sprung, + That shall wax till beneath its branches fair bloom the meadows green; + For the Gods and they that were mighty were glad erewhile with the Queen." + + Said King Elf: "How say ye, women? Of a King new-born do ye tell, + By a God of the Heavens begotten in our fathers' house to dwell?" + + "By a God of the Earth," they answered; "but greater yet is the son, + Though long were the days of Sigmund, and great are the deeds he hath done." + + Then she with the golden burden to the kingly high-seat stepped + And away from the new-born baby the purple cloths she swept, + And cried: "O King of the people, long mayst thou live in bliss, + As our hearts today are happy! Queen Hiordis sends thee this, + And she saith that the world shall call it by the name that thou shalt name; + Now the gift to thee is given, and to thee is brought the fame." + + Then e'en as a man astonied King Elf the Volsung took, + While his feast-hall's ancient timbers with the cry of the earl-folk shook; + + * * * * * + + With the love of many peoples was the wise king smitten through, + As he hung o'er the new-born Volsung: but at last he raised his head, + And looked forth kind o'er his people, and spake aloud and said: + + "O Sigmund King of Battle; O man of many days, + Whom I saw mid the shields of the fallen and the dead men's silent praise, + Lo, how hath the dark tide perished and the dawn of day begun! + And now, O mighty Sigmund, wherewith shall we name thy son?" + + But there rose up a man most ancient, and he cried: "Hail Dawn of the Day! + How many things shalt thou quicken, how many shalt thou slay! + How many things shalt thou waken, how many lull to sleep! + How many things shalt thou scatter, how many gather and keep! + O me, how thy love shall cherish, how thine hate shall wither and burn! + How the hope shall be sped from thy right hand, nor the fear to thy left + return! + O thy deeds that men shall sing of! O thy deeds that the Gods shall see! + O SIGURD, Son of the Volsungs, O Victory yet to be!" + + Men heard the name and they knew it, and they caught it up in the air, + And it went abroad by the windows and the doors of the feast-hall fair, + It went through street and market; o'er meadow and acre it went, + And over the wind-stirred forest and the dearth of the sea-beat bent, + And over the sea-flood's welter, till the folk of the fishers heard, + And the hearts of the isle-abiders on the sun-scorched rocks were stirred. + + * * * * * + + +_Sigurd getteth to him the horse that is called Greyfell._ + + Now waxeth the son of Sigmund in might and goodliness, + And soft the days win over, and all men his beauty bless. + But amidst the summer season was the Isle-queen Hiordis wed + To King Elf the son of the Helper, and fair their life-days sped. + Peace lay on the land for ever, and the fields gave good increase, + And there was Sigurd waxing mid the plenty and the peace. + Now hath the child grown greater, and is keen and eager of wit + And full of understanding, and oft hath he joy to sit + Amid talk of weighty matters when the wise men meet for speech; + And joyous he is moreover and blithe and kind with each. + But Regin the wise craftsmaster heedeth the youngling well, + And before the Kings he cometh, and saith such words to tell. + + "I have fostered thy youth, King Elf, and thine O Helper of men, + And ye wot that such a master no king shall see again; + And now would I foster Sigurd; for, though he be none of thy blood, + Mine heart of his days that shall be speaketh abundant good." + + Then spake the Helper of men-folk: "Yea, do herein thy will: + For thou art the Master of Masters, and hast learned me all my skill: + But think how bright is this youngling, and thy guile from him withhold; + For this craft of thine hath shown me that thy heart is grim and cold, + Though three men's lives thrice over thy wisdom might not learn; + And I love this son of Sigmund, and mine heart to him doth yearn." + + Then Regin laughed, and answered: "I doled out cunning to thee; + But nought with him will I measure: yet no cold-heart shall he be, + Nor grim, nor evil-natured: for whate'er my will might frame, + Gone forth is the word of the Norns, that abideth ever the same. + And now, despite my cunning, how deem ye I shall die?" + + And they said he would live as he listed, and at last in peace should lie + When he listed to live no longer; so mighty and wise he was. + + But again he laughed and answered: "One day it shall come to pass, + That a beardless youth shall slay me: I know the fateful doom; + But nought may I withstand it, as it heaves up dim through the gloom." + + So is Sigurd now with Regin, and he learns him many things; + Yea, all save the craft of battle, that men learned the sons of kings: + The smithying sword and war-coat; the carving runes aright; + The tongues of many countries, and soft speech for men's delight; + The dealing with the harp-strings, and the winding ways of song. + So wise of heart waxed Sigurd, and of body wondrous strong: + And he chased the deer of the forest, and many a wood-wolf slew, + And many a bull of the mountains: and the desert dales he knew, + And the heaths that the wind sweeps over; and seaward would he fare, + Far out from the outer skerries, and alone the sea-wights dare. + +One day did Regin tell Sigurd of deeds done in the past by kings both +bold and wise, and the lad longed, too, to do the like, and his +bright eyes glowed with desire. And Regin told him that he should +follow his Volsung fathers and roam far and wide, leaving the +peace-lovers and home-abiders who had cherished his youth. + +This roused Sigurd's wrath, for he would have nought said against +those who had reared him, but Regin bade him ask for one of the +horses of Gripir, and banished his anger by a song of the deeds of +the Choosers of the Slain. Before the song was finished Sigurd went +to King Elf and asked that he might have authority to seek a horse +from King Gripir. + + Then smiled King Elf, and answered: "A long way wilt thou ride, + To where unpeace and troubles and the griefs of the soul abide, + Yea unto the death at the last: yet surely shall thou win + The praise of many a people: so have thy way herein. + Forsooth no more may we hold thee than the hazel copse may hold + The sun of the early dawning, that turneth it all unto gold." + + Then sweetly Sigurd thanked them; and through the night he lay + Mid dreams of many a matter till the dawn was on the way; + Then he shook the sleep from off him, and that dwelling of Kings he left + And wended his ways unto Gripir. On a crag from the mountain reft + Was the house of the old King builded; and a mighty house it was, + Though few were the sons of men that over its threshold would pass: + But the wild ernes cried about it, and the vultures toward it flew, + And the winds from the heart of the mountains searched every chamber + through, + And about were meads wide-spreading; and many a beast thereon, + Yea some that are men-folk's terror, their sport and pasture won. + + So into the hall went Sigurd; and amidst was Gripir set + In a chair of the sea-beast's tooth; and his sweeping beard nigh met + The floor that was green as the ocean, and his gown was of mountain-gold, + And the kingly staff in his hand was knobbed with the crystal cold. + + Now the first of the twain spake Gripir: "Hail King with the eyen bright! + Nought needest thou show the token, for I know of thy life and thy light. + And no need to tell of thy message; it was wafted here on the wind, + That thou wouldst be coming today a horse in my meadow to find: + And strong must he be for the bearing of those deeds of thine that shall be. + Now choose thou of all the way-wearers that are running loose in my lea." + + * * * * * + + Then again gat Sigurd outward, and adown the steep he ran + And unto the horse-fed meadow: but lo, a grey-clad man, + One-eyed and seeming ancient, there met him by the way: + And he spake: "Thou hastest, Sigurd; yet tarry till I say + A word that shall well bestead thee: for I know of these mountains well + And all the lea of Gripir, and the beasts that thereon dwell." + + "Wouldst thou have red gold for thy tidings? art thou Gripir's horse-herd + then? + Nay sure, for thy face is shining like the battle-eager men + My master Regin tells of: and I love thy cloud-grey gown, + And thy visage gleams above it like a thing my dreams have known." + + "Nay whiles have I heeded the horse-kind," then spake that elder of days, + "And sooth do the sages say, when the beasts of my breeding they praise. + There is one thereof in the meadow, and, wouldst thou cull him out, + Thou shalt follow an elder's counsel, who hath brought strange things about, + Who hath known thy father aforetime, and other kings of thy kin." + + So Sigurd said, "I am ready; and what is the deed to win?" + He said: "We shall drive the horses adown to the water-side, + That cometh forth from the mountains, and note what next shall betide." + + Then the twain sped on together, and they drave the horses on + Till they came to a rushing river, a water wide and wan; + And the white mews hovered o'er it; but none might hear their cry + For the rush and the rattle of waters, as the downlong flood swept by. + So the whole herd took the river and strove the stream to stem, + And many a brave steed was there; but the flood o'ermastered them: + And some, it swept them down-ward, and some won back to bank, + Some, caught by the net of the eddies, in the swirling hubbub sank; + But one of all swam over, and they saw his mane of grey + Toss over the flowery meadows, a bright thing far away: + Wide then he wheeled about them, then took the stream again + And with the waves' white horses mingled his cloudy mane. + + Then spake the elder of days: "Hearken now, Sigurd, and hear; + Time was when I gave thy father a gift thou shalt yet deem dear, + And this horse is a gift of my giving:--heed nought where thou mayst ride: + For I have seen thy fathers in a shining house abide, + And on earth they thought of its threshold, and the gifts I had to give; + Nor prayed for a little longer, and a little longer to live." + + Then forth he strode to the mountains, and fain was Sigurd now. + To ask him many a matter: but dim did his bright shape grow, + As a man from the litten doorway fades into the dusk of night; + And the sun in the high-noon shone, and the world was exceeding bright. + + So Sigurd turned to the river and stood by the wave-wet strand, + And the grey horse swims to his feet and lightly leaps aland, + And the youngling looks upon him, and deems none beside him good. + And indeed, as tells the story, he was come of Sleipnir's blood, + The tireless horse of Odin: cloud-grey he was of hue, + And it seemed as Sigurd backed him that Sigmund's son he knew, + So glad he went beneath him. Then the youngling's song arose + As he brushed through the noontide blossoms of Gripir's mighty close, + Then he singeth the song of Greyfell, the horse that Odin gave, + Who swam through the sweeping river, and back through the toppling wave. + + +_Regin telleth Sigurd of his kindred, and of the Gold that was +accursed from ancient days._ + + Now yet the days pass over, and more than words may tell + Grows Sigurd strong and lovely, and all children love him well. + But oft he looks on the mountains and many a time is fain + To know of what lies beyond them, and learn of the wide world's gain. + + * * * * * + + Now again it happed on a day that he sat in Regin's hall + And hearkened many tidings of what had chanced to fall, + And of kings that sought their kingdoms o'er many a waste and wild, + And at last saith the crafty master: + "Thou art King Sigmund's child: + Wilt thou wait till these kings of the carles shall die in a little land, + Or wilt thou serve their sons and carry the cup to their hand; + Or abide in vain for the day that never shall come about, + When their banners shall dance in the wind and shake to the war-gods' + shout?" + + Then Sigurd answered and said: "Nought such do I look to be. + But thou, a deedless man, too much thou eggest me: + And these folk are good and trusty, and the land is lovely and sweet, + And in rest and in peace it lieth as the floor of Odin's feet: + Yet I know that the world is wide, and filled with deeds unwrought; + And for e'en such work was I fashioned, lest the songcraft come to nought." + + * * * * * + + Then answered Regin the guileful: "The deed is ready to hand, + Yet holding my peace is the best, for well thou lovest the land; + And thou lovest thy life moreover, and the peace of thy youthful days, + And why should the full-fed feaster his hand to the rye-bread raise? + Yet they say that Sigmund begat thee and he looked to fashion a man. + Fear nought; he lieth quiet in his mound by the sea-waves wan." + + So shone the eyes of Sigurd, that the shield against him hung + Cast back their light as the sunbeams; but his voice to the roof-tree rung: + "Tell me, thou Master of Masters, what deed is the deed I shall do? + Nor mock thou the son of Sigmund lest the day of his birth thou rue." + + Then answered the Master of Sleight: "The deed is the righting of wrong, + And the quelling a bale and a sorrow that the world hath endured o'erlong, + And the winning a treasure untold, that shall make thee more than the kings; + Thereof is the Helm of Aweing, the wonder of earthly things, + And thereof is its very fellow, the War-Coat all of gold, + That has not its like in the heavens, nor has earth of its fellow told." + + Then answered Sigurd the Volsung: "How long hereof hast thou known? + And what unto thee is this treasure, that thou seemest to give as thine + own?" + + "Alas!" quoth the smithying master, "it is mine, yet none of mine, + Since my heart herein avails not, and my hand is frail and fine-- + It is long since I first came hither to seek a man for my need; + For I saw by a glimmering light that hence would spring the deed, + And many a deed of the world: but the generations passed, + And the first of the days was as near to the end that I sought as the last; + Till I looked on thine eyes in the cradle: and now I deem through thee, + That the end of my days of waiting, and the end of my woes shall be." + + Then Sigurd awhile was silent; but at last he answered and said: + "Thou shalt have thy will and the treasure, and shalt take the curse on + thine head + If a curse the gold enwrappeth: but the deed will I surely do, + For today the dreams of my childhood hath bloomed in my heart anew: + And I long to look on the world and the glory of the earth + And to deal in the dealings of men, and garner the harvest of worth. + But tell me, thou Master of Masters, where lieth this measureless wealth; + Is it guarded by swords of the earl-folk, or kept by cunning and stealth? + Is it over the main sea's darkness, or beyond the mountain wall? + Or e'en in these peaceful acres anigh to the hands of all?" + + Then Regin answered sweetly: "Hereof must a tale be told: + Bide sitting, thou son of Sigmund, on the heap of unwrought gold, + And hearken of wondrous matters, and of things unheard, unsaid, + And deeds of my beholding ere the first of Kings was made. + + "And first ye shall know of a sooth, that I never was born of the race + Which the masters of God-home have made to cover the fair earth's face; + But I come of the Dwarfs departed; and fair was the earth whileome + Ere the short-lived thralls of the Gods amidst its dales were come. + + * * * * * + + "It was Reidmar the Ancient begat me; and now was he waxen old, + And a covetous man and a king; and he bade, and I built him a hall, + And a golden glorious house; and thereto his sons did he call, + And he bade them be evil and wise, that his will through them might be + wrought. + Then he gave unto Fafnir my brother the soul that feareth nought, + And the brow of the hardened iron, and the hand that may never fail, + And the greedy heart of a king, and the ear that hears no wail. + + "But next unto Otter my brother he gave the snare and the net, + And the longing to wend through the wild-wood, and wade the highways wet: + And the foot that never resteth, while aught be left alive + That hath cunning to match man's cunning or might with his might to strive. + + "And to me, the least and the youngest, what gift for the slaying of ease? + Save the grief that remembers the past, and the fear that the future sees; + And the hammer and fashioning-iron, and the living coal of fire; + And the craft that createth a semblance, and fails of the heart's desire; + And the toil that each dawning quickens and the task that is never done; + And the heart that longeth ever, nor will look to the deed that is won. + + "Thus gave my father the gifts that might never be taken again; + Far worse were we now than the Gods, and but little better than men. + But yet of our ancient might one thing had we left us still: + We had craft to change our semblance, and could shift us at our will + Into bodies of the beast-kind, or fowl, or fishes cold; + + * * * * * + + "So dwelt we, brethren and father; and Fafnir my brother fared + As the scourge and compeller of all things, and left no wrong undared; + But for me, I toiled and I toiled; and fair grew my father's house; + But writhen and foul were the hands that had made it glorious; + + * * * * * + + "And myself a little fragment amidst it all I saw, + Grim, cold-hearted, and unmighty as the tempest-driven straw. + --Let be.--For Otter my brother saw seldom field or fold, + And he oftenest used that custom, whereof e'en now I told, + And would shift his shape with the wood-beasts and the things of land and + sea; + And he knew what joy their hearts had, and what they longed to be, + And their dim-eyed understanding, and his wood-craft waxed so great, + That he seemed the king of the creatures and their very mortal fate. + + "Now as the years won over three folk of the heavenly halls + Grew aweary of sleepless sloth, and the day that nought befalls; + And they fain would look on the earth, and their latest handiwork, + And turn the fine gold over, lest a flaw therein should lurk. + And the three were the heart-wise Odin, the Father of the Slain, + And Loki, the World's Begrudger, who maketh all labour vain, + And Hoenir, the Utter-Blameless, who wrought the hope of man, + And his heart and inmost yearnings, when first the work began;--" + +The three wandered over the earth till they came to a mighty river, +haunted for long by Otter, by reason of its great wealth of fish. +There he lay on the bank, and as he watched the fish in the water his +shape was changed to that of a true otter, and he began to devour a +golden trout. Two of the gods would have passed without stay, but in +the otter Loki saw an enemy, and straightway killed him, rejoicing +over his dead body. + +As night fell the three gods came to a great hall, wondrously wrought +and carved, with golden hangings and forests of pillars. In the midst +of the hall sat a king on an ivory throne, and his garments were made +of purple from the sea. Kind welcome he gave to the wanderers, and +there they feasted and delighted in music and song; but even as they +drank and made merry they knew they were caught in the snare. + +The king's welcome changed to scornful laughter, and thus he spoke: +"Truly are ye gods, but ye are come to people who want you not. Before +ye were known to us, still was the winter cold, and the summer warm, +and still could we find meat and drink. I am Reidmar, and ye come +straight from the slaying of Reidmar's son. Shall I not then take the +vengeance I will? Unless, indeed, ye give me the treasure I covet, and +then shall ye go your way. This is my sentence. Choose ye which ye +will." + +Then spake the wise Allfather and prayed Reidmar to unsay his word, +and cease to desire the gold. But Reidmar the Wise, and Fafnir the +Lord, and Regin the Worker cried aloud in their wrath:-- + + "'O hearken Gods of the Goths! ye shall die, and we shall be Gods, + And rule your men beloved with bitter-heavy rods, + And make them beasts beneath us, save today ye do our will, + And pay us the ransom of blood, and our hearts with the gold fulfill.' + + "But Odin spake in answer, and his voice was awful and cold: + 'Give righteous doom, O Reidmar! say what ye will of the Gold!' + + "Then Reidmar laughed in his heart, and his wrath and his wisdom fled, + And nought but his greed abided; and he spake from his throne and said: + + "'Now hearken the doom I shall speak! Ye stranger-folk shall be free + When ye give me the Flame of the Waters, the gathered Gold of the Sea, + That Andvari hideth rejoicing in the wan realm pale as the grave; + And the Master of Sleight shall fetch it, and the hand that never gave, + And the heart that begrudgeth for ever shall gather and give and rue. + --Lo this is the doom of the wise, and no doom shall be spoken anew.' + + "Then Odin spake: 'It is well; the Curser shall seek for the curse; + And the Greedy shall cherish the evil--and the seed of the Great they shall + nurse.' + + "No word spake Reidmar the great, for the eyes of his heart were turned + To the edge of the outer desert, so sore for the gold he yearned. + But Loki I loosed from the toils, and he goeth his way abroad; + And the heart of Odin he knoweth, and where he shall seek the Hoard. + + "There is a desert of dread in the uttermost part of the world, + Where over a wall of mountains is a mighty water hurled, + Whose hidden head none knoweth, nor where it meeteth the sea; + And that force is the Force of Andvari, and an Elf of the Dark is he. + In the cloud and the desert he dwelleth amid that land alone; + And his work is the storing of treasure within his house of stone. + Time was when he knew of wisdom, and had many a tale to tell + Of the days before the Dwarf-age, and of what in that world befell: + And he knew of the stars and the sun, and the worlds that come and go + On the nether rim of heaven, and whence the wind doth blow, + And how the sea hangs balanced betwixt the curving lands, + And how all drew together for the first Gods' fashioning hands. + But now is all gone from him, save the craft of gathering gold, + And he heedeth nought of the summer, nor knoweth the winter cold, + Nor looks to the sun nor the snowfall, nor ever dreams of the sea, + Nor hath heard of the making of men-folk, nor of where the high Gods be; + But ever he gripeth and gathereth, and he toileth hour by hour, + Nor knoweth the noon from the midnight as he looks on his stony bower, + And saith: 'It is short, it is narrow for all I shall gather and get; + For the world is but newly fashioned, and long shall its years be yet.' + + "There Loki fareth, and seeth in a land of nothing good, + Far off o'er the empty desert, the reek of the falling flood + Go up to the floor of heaven, and thither turn his feet + As he weaveth the unseen meshes and the snare of strong deceit; + So he cometh his ways to the water, where the glittering foam-bow glows, + And the huge flood leaps the rock-wall and a green arch over it throws. + There under the roof of water he treads the quivering floor, + And the hush of the desert is felt amid the water's roar, + And the bleak sun lighteth the wave-vault, and tells of the fruitless plain, + And the showers that nourish nothing, and the summer come in vain. + + "There did the great Guile-master his toils and his tangles set, + And as wide as was the water, so wide was woven the net; + And as dim as the Elf's remembrance did the meshes of it show; + And he had no thought of sorrow, nor spared to come and go + On his errands of griping and getting till he felt himself tangled and + caught: + Then back to his blinded soul was his ancient wisdom brought, + And he saw his fall and his ruin, as a man by the lightning's flame + Sees the garth all flooded by foemen; and again he remembered his name; + And e'en as a book well written the tale of the Gods he knew, + And the tale of the making of men, and much of the deeds they should do. + + * * * * * + + "Then Andvari groaned and answered: 'I know what thou wouldst have, + The wealth mine own hands gathered, the gold that no man gave.' + + "'Come forth,' said Loki, 'and give it, and dwell in peace henceforth-- + Or die in the toils if thou listeth, if thy life be nothing worth.' + + "Full sore the Elf lamented, but he came before the God, + And the twain went into the rock-house and on fine gold they trod, + And the walls shone bright, and brighter than the sun of the upper air. + How great was that treasure of treasures: and the Helm of Dread was there; + The world but in dreams had seen it; and there was the hauberk of gold; + None other is in the heavens, nor has earth of its fellow told. + + "Then Loki bade the Elf-king bring all to the upper day, + And he dight himself with his Godhead to bear the treasure away: + So there in the dim grey desert before the God of Guile, + Great heaps of the hid-world's treasure the weary Elf must pile, + And Loki looked on laughing: but, when it all was done, + And the Elf was hurrying homeward, his finger gleamed in the sun: + Then Loki cried: 'Thou art guileful: thou hast not learned the tale + Of the wisdom that Gods hath gotten and their might of all avail. + + * * * * * + + "'Come hither again to thy master, and give the ring to me; + For meseems it is Loki's portion, and the Bale of Men shall it be.' + + "Then the Elf drew off the gold-ring and stood with empty hand + E'en where the flood fell over 'twixt the water and the land, + And he gazed on the great Guile-master, and huge and grim he grew; + And his anguish swelled within him, and the word of the Norns he knew; + How that gold was the seed of gold to the wise and the shapers of things, + The hoarders of hidden treasure, and the unseen glory of rings; + But the seed of woe to the world and the foolish wasters of men, + And grief to the generations that die and spring again: + Then he cried: + 'There farest thou Loki, and might I load thee worse + Than with what thine ill heart beareth, then shouldst thou bear my curse: + But for men a curse thou bearest: entangled in my gold, + Amid my woe abideth another woe untold. + Two brethren and a father, eight kings my grief shall slay; + And the hearts of queens shall be broken, and their eyes shall loathe the + day.' + + * * * * * + + "But Loki laughed in silence, and swift in Godhead went, + To the golden hall of Reidmar and the house of our content. + But when that world of treasure was laid within our hall + 'Twas as if the sun were minded to live 'twixt wall and wall, + And all we stood by and panted. Then Odin spake and said: + + "'O Kings, O folk of the Dwarf-kind, lo, the ransom duly paid! + Will ye have this sun of the ocean, and reap the fruitful field, + And garner up the harvest that earth therefrom shall yield.' + + "So he spake; but a little season nought answered Reidmar the wise, + But turned his face from the Treasure, and peered with eager eyes + Endlong the hall and athwart it, as a man may chase about + A ray of the sun of the morning that a naked sword throws out; + And lo from Loki's right-hand came the flash of the fruitful ring, + And at last spake Reidmar scowling: + 'Ye wait for my yea-saying + That your feet may go free on the earth, and the fear of my toils may be + done; + That then ye may say in your laughter: The fools of the time agone! + The purblind eyes of the Dwarf-kind! they have gotten the garnered sheaf + And have let their Masters depart with the Seed of Gold and of Grief: + O Loki, friend of Allfather, cast down Andvari's ring, + Or the world shall yet turn backward and the high heavens lack a king.' + + "Then Loki drew off the Elf-ring and cast it down on the heap, + And forth as the gold met gold did the light of its glory leap: + But he spake: 'It rejoiceth my heart that no whit of all ye shall lack. + Lest the curse of the Elf-king cleave not, and ye 'scape the utter wrack.' + +Then Regin loosed the shackles of the gods and they departed into the +night, but Odin stayed in the doorway and thus he spake: "Why do ye +thus desire treasure and take sorrow to yourselves? Know ye not that +I was before your fathers' fathers, and that I can foresee your fate, +and the end of the gold ye covet? I am the Wise One who ordereth all." + +Then they went, but Regin afterwards often recalled Odin's words and +the evening filled with the gleam of the gold, but little cared he +then, so well he loved the gold. And he prayed his father to keep the +treasure, but give a little unto him and Fafnir for the help they had +given him that day. + +His father in no wise heeded his words, but sat ever on his ivory +throne, staring moodily at the gold. But Fafnir grew fierce and grim +as he watched him. + + "The night waned into the morning, and still above the Hoard + Sat Reidmar clad in purple; but Fafnir took his sword, + And I took my smithying-hammer, and apart in the world we went; + But I came aback in the even, and my heart was heavy and spent; + And I longed, but fear was upon me and I durst not go to the Gold; + So I lay in the house of my toil mid the things I had fashioned of old; + And methought as I lay in my bed 'twixt waking and slumber of night + That I heard the tinkling metal and beheld the hall alight, + But I slept and dreamed of the Gods, and the things that never have slept, + Till I woke to a cry and a clashing and forth from the bed I leapt, + And there by the heaped-up Elf-gold my brother Fafnir stood, + And there at his feet lay Reidmar and reddened the Treasure with blood; + And e'en as I looked on his eyen they glazed and whitened with death, + And forth on the torch-litten hall he shed his latest breath. + + "But I looked on Fafnir and trembled for he wore the Helm of Dread, + And his sword was bare in his hand, and the sword and the hand were red + With the blood of our father Reidmar, and his body was wrapped in gold, + With the ruddy-gleaming mailcoat of whose fellow hath nought been told, + And it seemed as I looked upon him that he grew beneath mine eyes: + And then in the mid-hall's silence did his dreadful voice arise: + + "'I have slain my father Reidmar, that I alone might keep + The Gold of the darksome places, the Candle of the Deep. + I am such as the Gods have made me, lest the Dwarf-kind people the earth, + Or mingle their ancient wisdom with its short-lived latest birth. + I shall dwell alone henceforward, and the Gold and its waxing curse, + I shall brood on them both together, let my life grow better or worse. + And I am a King henceforward and long shall be my life, + And the Gold shall grow with my longing, for I shall hide it from strife,' + And hoard up the Ring of Andvari in the house thine hand hath built. + O thou, wilt thou tarry and tarry, till I cast thy blood on the guilt? + Lo, I am a King for ever, and alone on the Gold shall I dwell + And do no deed to repent of and leave no tale to tell.' + + "More awful grew his visage as he spake the word of dread, + And no more durst I behold him, but with heart a-cold I fled; + I fled from the glorious house my hands had made so fair, + As poor as the new-born baby with nought of raiment or gear: + I fled from the heaps of gold, and my goods were the eager will, + And the heart that remembereth all, and the hand that may never be still. + + "Then unto this land I came, and that was long ago. + As men-folk count the years; and I taught them to reap and to sow, + + * * * * * + + "And I grew the master of masters--Think thou how strange it is + That the sword in the hands of a stripling shall one day end all this! + + "Yet oft mid all my wisdom did I long for my brother's part, + And Fafnir's mighty kingship weighed heavy on my heart + When the Kings of the earthly kingdoms would give me golden gifts + From out of their scanty treasures, due pay for my cunning shifts. + And once--didst thou number the years thou wouldst think it long ago-- + I wandered away to the country from whence our stem did grow. + + * * * * * + + "Then I went to the pillared hall-stead, and lo, huge heaps of gold, + And to and fro amidst them a mighty Serpent rolled: + Then my heart grew chill with terror, for I thought on the wont of our race, + And I, who had lost their cunning, was a man in a deadly place, + A feeble man and a swordless in the lone destroyer's fold; + For I knew that the Worm was Fafnir, the Wallower on the Gold. + + "So I gathered my strength and fled, and hid my shame again + Mid the foolish sons of men-folk; and the more my hope was vain, + The more I longed for the Treasure, and deliv'rance from the yoke: + And yet passed the generations, and I dwelt with the short-lived folk. + + "Long years, and long years after, the tale of men-folk told + How up on the Glittering Heath was the house and the dwelling of gold, + And within that house was the Serpent, and the Lord of the Fearful Face: + Then I wondered sore of the desert; for I thought of the golden place + My hands of old had builded; for I knew by many a sign + That the Fearful Face was my brother, that the blood of the Worm was mine. + This was ages long ago, and yet in that desert he dwells, + Betwixt him and men death lieth, and no man of his semblance tells; + But the tale of the great Gold-wallower is never the more outworn. + Then came thy kin, O Sigurd, and thy father's father was born, + And I fell to the dreaming of dreams, and I saw thine eyes therein, + And I looked and beheld thy glory and all that thy sword should win; + And I thought that thou shouldst be he, who should bring my heart its rest, + That of all the gifts of the Kings thy sword should give me the best. + + "Ah, I fell to the dreaming of dreams; and oft the gold I saw, + And the golden-fashioned Hauberk, clean-wrought without a flaw, + And the Helm that aweth the world; and I knew of Fafnir's heart + That his wisdom was greater than mine, because he had held him apart, + Nor spilt on the sons of men-folk our knowledge of ancient days, + Nor bartered one whit for their love, nor craved for the people's praise. + + "And some day I shall have it all, his gold and his craft and his heart + And the gathered and garnered wisdom he guards in the mountains apart." + + * * * * * + + And he spake: "Hast thou hearkened, Sigurd, wilt thou help a man that is old + To avenge him for his father? Wilt thou win that Treasure of Gold + And be more than the Kings of the earth? Wilt thou rid the earth of a wrong + And heal the woe and the sorrow my heart hath endured o'erlong?" + + Then Sigurd looked upon him with steadfast eyes and clear, + And Regin drooped and trembled as he stood the doom to hear: + But the bright child spake as aforetime, and answered the Master and said: + "Thou shalt have thy will, and the Treasure, and take the curse on thine + head." + + +_Of the forging of the Sword that is called The Wrath of Sigurd._ + + * * * * * + + But when the morrow was come he went to his mother and spake: + "The shards, the shards of the sword, that thou gleanedst for my sake + In the night on the field of slaughter, in the tide when my father fell, + Hast thou kept them through sorrow and joyance? hast thou warded them trusty + and well? + Where hast thou laid them, my mother?" + Then she looked upon him and said: + "Art thou wroth, O Sigurd my son, that such eyes are in thine head? + And wilt thou be wroth with thy mother? do I withstand thee at all?" + + "Nay," said he, "nought am I wrathful, but the days rise up like a wall + Betwixt my soul and the deeds, and I strive to rend them through. + + * * * * * + + "Now give me the sword, my mother, that Sigmund gave thee to keep." + + She said: "I shall give it thee gladly, for fain shall I be of thy praise + When thou knowest my careful keeping of that hope of the earlier days." + + So she took his hand in her hand, and they went their ways, they twain; + Till they came to the treasure of queen-folk, the guarded chamber of gain: + They were all alone with its riches, and she turned the key in the gold, + And lifted the sea-born purple, and the silken web unrolled, + And lo, 'twixt her hands and her bosom the shards of Sigmund's sword; + No rust-fleck stained its edges, and the gems of the ocean's hoard + Were as bright in the hilts and glorious, as when in the Volsungs' hall + It shone in the eyes of the earl-folk and flashed from the shielded wall. + + But Sigurd smiled upon it, and he said: "O Mother of Kings, + Well hast thou warded the war-glaive for a mirror of many things, + And a hope of much fulfilment: well hast thou given to me + The message of my fathers, and the word of thing to be: + Trusty hath been thy warding, but its hour is over now: + These shards shall be knit together, and shall hear the war-wind blow." + + * * * * * + + Then she felt his hands about her as he took the fateful sword, + And he kissed her soft and sweetly; but she answered never a word: + + * * * * * + + But swift on his ways went Sigurd, and to Regin's house he came, + Where the Master stood in the doorway and behind him leapt the flame, + And dark he looked and little: no more his speech was sweet, + No words on his lip were gathered the Volsung child to greet, + Till he took the sword from Sigurd and the shards of the days of old; + Then he spake: + "Will nothing serve thee save this blue steel and cold, + The bane of thy father's father, the fate of all his kin, + The baleful blade I fashioned, the Wrath that the Gods would win?" + + Then answered the eye-bright Sigurd: "If thou thy craft wilt do, + Nought save these battle-gleanings shall be my helper true:" + +So Regin welded together the shards of Sigmund's sword, and wrought +the Wrath of Sigurd, whose hilts were great and along whose edge ran a +living flame so that men thought it like sunlight and lightning +mingled. Then on Greyfell, with the Wrath girt by his side, Sigurd +rode to the hall of Gripir, who told him of deeds to be and of the +fate that would befall him. In no wise was Sigurd troubled, but smiled +as a happy child, and together they talked of the deeds of the kings +of the Earth, of the wonders of Heaven, and of the Queen of the Sea. + +And Sigurd told Gripir that he indeed was wise above all men, but for +himself had the Wrath been fashioned, and he was ready to ride to the +Glittering Heath. So they took leave of one another, and as the sky grew +blood-red in the West, and the birds were flying homeward, Sigurd drew +near to Regin's dwelling. + + +_Sigurd rideth to the Glittering Heath._ + + Again on the morrow morning doth Sigurd the Volsung ride, + And Regin, the Master of Masters, is faring by his side, + And they leave the dwelling of kings and ride the summer land, + Until at the eve of the day the hills are on either hand; + Then they wend up higher and higher, and over the heaths they fare + Till the moon shines broad on the midnight, and they sleep 'neath the + heavens bare; + And they waken and look behind them, and lo, the dawning of day + And the little land of the Helper and its valleys far away; + But the mountains rise before them, a wall exceeding great. + + Then spake the Master of Masters: "We have come to the garth and the gate; + There is youth and rest behind thee and many a thing to do, + There is many a fond desire, and each day born anew; + And the land of the Volsungs to conquer, and many a people's praise: + And for me there is rest it may be, and the peaceful end of days. + We have come to the garth and the gate; to the hall-door now shall we win, + Shall we go to look on the high-seat and see what sitteth therein?" + + "Yea, and what else?" said Sigurd, "was thy tale but mockeries, + And have I been drifted hither on a wind of empty lies?" + + "It was sooth, it was sooth," said Regin, "and more might I have told + Had I heart and space to remember the deeds of the days of old." + + * * * * * + + Day-long they fared through the mountains, and that highway's fashioner, + Forsooth, was a fearful craftsman, and his hands the waters were, + And the heaped-up ice was his mattock, and the fire-blast was his man, + And never a whit he heeded though his walls were waste and wan, + And the guest-halls of that wayside great heaps of the ashes spent. + But, each as a man alone, through the sun-bright day they went, + And they rode till the moon rose upward, and the stars were small and fair, + Then they slept on the long-slaked ashes beneath the heavens bare; + And the cold dawn came and they wakened, and the King of the Dwarf-kind + seemed + As a thing of that wan land fashioned; but Sigurd glowed and gleamed + Amid a shadowless twilight by Greyfell's cloudy flank, + As a little space they abided while the latest star-world shrank; + On the backward road looked Regin and heard how Sigurd drew + The girths of Greyfell's saddle, and the voice of his sword he knew, + + * * * * * + + And his war-gear clanged and tinkled as he leapt to the saddle-stead: + And the sun rose up at their backs and the grey world changed to red, + And away to the west went Sigurd by the glory wreathed about, + But little and black was Regin as a fire that dieth out. + Day-long they rode the mountains by the crags exceeding old, + And the ash that the first of the Dwarf-kind found dull and quenched and + cold. + Then the moon in the mid-sky swam, and the stars were fair and pale, + And beneath the naked heaven they slept in an ash-grey dale; + And again at the dawn-dusk's ending they stood upon their feet, + And Sigurd donned his war-gear nor his eyes would Regin meet. + + A clear streak widened in heaven low down above the earth; + And above it lay the cloud-flecks, and the sun, anigh its birth, + Unseen, their hosts was staining with the very hue of blood, + And ruddy by Greyfell's shoulder the Son of Sigmund stood. + + Then spake the Master of Masters: "What is thine hope this morn + That thou dightest thee, O Sigurd, to ride this world forlorn?" + + "What needeth hope," said Sigurd, "when the heart of the Volsungs turns + To the light of the Glittering Heath, and the house where the Waster burns? + I shall slay the Foe of the Gods, as thou badst me a while agone, + And then with the Gold and its wisdom shalt thou be left alone." + + "O Child," said the King of the Dwarf-kind, "when the day at last comes + round + For the dread and the Dusk of the Gods, and the kin of the Wolf is unbound, + When thy sword shall hew the fire, and the wildfire beateth thy shield, + Shalt thou praise the wages of hope and the Gods that pitched the field?" + + "O Foe of the Gods," said Sigurd, "wouldst thou hide the evil thing, + And the curse that is greater than thou, lest death end thy labouring, + Lest the night should come upon thee amidst thy toil for nought? + It is me, it is me that thou fearest, if indeed I know thy thought; + Yea me, who would utterly light the face of all good and ill, + If not with the fruitful beams that the summer shall fulfill, + Then at least with the world a-blazing, and the glare of the grinded sword. + + * * * * * + + "I have hearkened not nor heeded the words of thy fear and thy ruth: + Thou hast told thy tale and thy longing, and thereto I hearkened well:-- + Let it lead thee up to heaven, let it lead thee down to hell, + The deed shall be done tomorrow: thou shalt have that measureless Gold, + And devour the garnered wisdom that blessed thy realm of old, + That hath lain unspent and begrudged in the very heart of hate: + With the blood and the might of thy brother thine hunger shalt thou sate; + And this deed shall be mine and thine; but take heed for what followeth + then! + Let each do after his kind! I shall do the deeds of men; + I shall harvest the field of their sowing, in the bed of their strewing + shall sleep; + To them shall I give my life-days, to the Gods my glory to keep. + But them with the wealth and the wisdom that the best of the Gods might + praise, + If thou shall indeed excel them and become the hope of the days, + Then me in turn hast thou conquered, and I shall be in turn + Thy fashioned brand of the battle through good and evil to burn, + Or the flame that sleeps in thy stithy for the gathered winds to blow, + When thou listest to do and undo and thine uttermost cunning to show. + But indeed I wot full surely that thou shalt follow thy kind; + And for all that cometh after, the Norns shall loose and bind." + + Then his bridle-reins rang sweetly, and the warding-walls of death, + And Regin drew up to him, and the Wrath sang loud in the sheath, + And forth from that trench in the mountains by the westward way they ride; + And little and black goes Regin by the golden Volsung's side; + + * * * * * + + So ever they wended upward, and the midnight hour was o'er, + And the stars grew pale and paler, and failed from the heaven's floor, + And the moon was a long while dead, but where was the promise of day? + No change came over the darkness, no streak of the dawning grey; + No sound of the wind's uprising adown the night there ran: + It was blind as the Gaping Gulf ere the first of the worlds began. + + Then athwart and athwart rode Sigurd and sought the walls of the pass, + But found no wall before him; and the road rang hard as brass + Beneath the hoofs of Greyfell, as up and up he trod: + --Was it the daylight of Hell, or the night of the doorway of God? + But lo, at the last a glimmer, and a light from the west there came, + And another and another, like points of far-off flame; + And they grew and brightened and gathered; and whiles together they ran + Like the moonwake over the waters; and whiles they were scant and wan, + Some greater and some lesser, like the boats of fishers laid + About the sea of midnight; and a dusky dawn they made, + A faint and glimmering twilight: So Sigurd strains his eyes, + And he sees how a land deserted all round about him lies + More changeless than mid-ocean, as fruitless as its floor: + Then the heart leaps up within him, for he knows that his journey is o'er, + And there he draweth bridle on the first of the Glittering Heath: + And the Wrath is waxen merry and sings in the golden sheath + As he leaps adown from Greyfell, and stands upon his feet, + And wends his ways through the twilight the Foe of the Gods to meet. + + +_Sigurd slayeth Fafnir the Serpent._ + + Nought Sigurd seeth of Regin, and nought he heeds of him, + As in watchful might and glory he strides the desert dim, + And behind him paceth Greyfell; but he deems the time o'erlong + Till he meet the great gold-warden, the over-lord of wrong. + + So he wendeth midst the silence through the measureless desert place, + And beholds the countless glitter with wise and steadfast face, + Till him-seems in a little season that the flames grown somewhat wan, + And a grey thing glimmers before him, and becomes a mighty man, + One-eyed and ancient-seeming, in cloud-grey raiment clad; + A friendly man and glorious, and of visage smiling-glad: + Then content in Sigurd groweth because of his majesty, + And he heareth him speak in the desert as the wind of the winter sea: + + "Hail Sigurd! Give me thy greeting ere thy ways alone thou wend!" + + Said Sigurd: "Hail! I greet thee, my friend and my fathers' friend." + + "Now whither away," said the elder, "with the Steed and the ancient Sword?" + + "To the greedy house," said Sigurd, "and the King of the Heavy Hoard." + + "Wilt thou smite, O Sigurd, Sigurd?" said the ancient mighty-one. + + "Yea, yea, I shall smite," said the Volsung, "save the Gods have slain the + sun." + + "What wise wilt thou smite," said the elder, "lest the dark devour thy day?" + + "Thou hast praised the sword," said the child, "and the sword shall find a + way." + + "Be learned of me," said the Wise-one, "for I was the first of thy folk." + + Said the child: "I shall do thy bidding, and for thee shall I strike the + stroke." + + Spake the Wise-one: "Thus shalt thou do when thou wendest hence alone: + Thou shalt find a path in the desert, and a road in the world of stone; + It is smooth and deep and hollow, but the rain hath riven it not, + And the wild wind hath not worn it, for it is but Fafnir's slot, + Whereby he wends to the water and the fathomless pool of old, + When his heart in the dawn is weary, and he loathes the ancient Gold: + There think of the great and the fathers, and bare the whetted Wrath, + And dig a pit in the highway, and a grave in the Serpent's path: + Lie thou therein, O Sigurd, and thine hope from the glooming hide, + And be as the dead for a season, and the living light abide! + And so shall thine heart avail thee, and thy mighty fateful hand, + And the Light that lay in the Branstock, the well-beloved brand." + + Said the child: "I shall do thy bidding, and for thee shall I strike the + stroke; + For I love thee, friend of my fathers, Wise Heart of the holy folk." + + So spake the Son of Sigmund, and beheld no man anear, + And again was the night the midnight, and the twinkling flame shone clear + In the hush of the Glittering Heath; and alone went Sigmund's son + Till he came to the road of Fafnir, and the highway worn by one, + By the drift of the rain unfurrowed, by the windy years unrent, + And forth from the dark it came, and into the dark it went. + + Great then was the heart of Sigurd, for there in the midmost he stayed, + And thought of the ancient fathers, and bared the bright blue blade, + That shone as a fleck of the day-light, and the night was all around. + Fair then was the Son of Sigmund as he toiled and laboured the ground; + Great, mighty he was in his working, and the Glittering Heath he clave, + And the sword shone blue before him as he dug the pit and the grave: + There he hid his hope from the night-tide and lay like one of the dead, + And wise and wary he bided; and the heavens hung over his head. + + Now the night wanes over Sigurd, and the ruddy rings he sees, + And his war-gear's fair adornment, and the God-folk's images; + But a voice in the desert ariseth, a sound in the waste has birth, + A changing tinkle and clatter, as of gold dragged over the earth: + O'er Sigurd widens the day-light, and the sound is drawing close, + And speedier than the trample of speedy feet it goes; + But ever deemeth Sigurd that the sun brings back the day, + For the grave grows lighter and lighter and heaven o'erhead is grey. + + But now, how the rattling waxeth till he may not heed nor hark! + And the day and the heavens are hidden, and o'er Sigurd rolls the dark, + As the flood of a pitchy river, and heavy-thick is the air + With the venom of hate long hoarded, and lies once fashioned fair: + Then a wan face comes from the darkness, and is wrought in man-like wise, + And the lips are writhed with laughter and bleared are the blinded eyes; + And it wandereth hither and thither, and searcheth through the grave + And departeth, leaving nothing, save the dark, rolled wave on wave + O'er the golden head of Sigurd and the edges of the sword, + And the world weighs heavy on Sigurd, and the weary curse of the Hoard; + Him-seemed the grave grew straiter, and his hope of life grew chill, + And his heart by the Worm was enfolded, and the bonds of the Ancient Ill. + + Then was Sigurd stirred by his glory, and he strove with the swaddling of + Death; + He turned in the pit on the highway, and the grave of the Glittering Heath; + He laughed and smote with the laughter and thrust up over his head. + And smote the venom asunder and clave the heart of Dread; + Then he leapt from the pit and the grave, and the rushing river of blood, + And fulfilled with the joy of the War-God on the face of earth he stood + With red sword high uplifted, with wrathful glittering eyes; + And he laughed at the heavens above him for he saw the sun arise, + And Sigurd gleamed on the desert, and shone in the new-born light, + And the wind in his raiment wavered, and all the world was bright. + + But there was the ancient Fafnir, and the Face of Terror lay + On the huddled folds of the Serpent, that were black and ashen-grey + In the desert lit by the sun; and those twain looked each on each, + And forth from the Face of Terror went a sound of dreadful speech: + + "Child, child, who art thou that hast smitten? bright child, of whence is + thy birth?" + + "I am called the Wild-thing Glorious, and alone I wend on the earth." + + * * * * * + + "What master hath taught thee of murder?--Thou hast wasted Fafnir's day." + + "I, Sigurd, knew and desired, and the bright sword learned the way." + + * * * * * + + "I am blind, O Strong Compeller, in the bonds of Death and Hell. + But thee shall the rattling Gold and the red rings bring unto bane." + + "Yet the rings mine hand shall scatter, and the earth shall gather again." + + "Woe, woe! in the days passed over I bore the Helm of Dread, + I reared the Face of Terror, and the hoarded hate of the Dead: + I overcame and was mighty; I was wise and cherished my heart + In the waste where no man wandered, and the high house builded apart: + Till I met thine hand, O Sigurd, and thy might ordained from of old; + And I fought and fell in the morning, and I die far off from the Gold." + + * * * * * + + Then all sank into silence, and the Son of Sigmund stood + On the torn and furrowed desert by the pool of Fafnir's blood, + And the Serpent lay before him, dead, chilly, dull, and grey; + And over the Glittering Heath fair shone the sun and the day, + And a light wind followed the sun and breathed o'er the fateful place, + As fresh as it furrows the sea-plain or bows the acres' face. + + +_Sigurd slayeth Regin the Master of Masters on the Glittering Heath._ + + There standeth Sigurd the Volsung, and leaneth on his sword, + And beside him now is Greyfell and looks on his golden lord, + And the world is awake and living; and whither now shall they wend, + Who have come to the Glittering Heath, and wrought that deed to its end? + For hither comes Regin the Master from the skirts of the field of death. + + * * * * * + + Afoot he went o'er the desert, and he came unto Sigurd and stared + At the golden gear of the man, and the Wrath yet bloody and bared, + And the light locks raised by the wind, and the eyes beginning to smile, + And the lovely lips of the Volsung, and the brow that knew no guile; + And he murmured under his breath while his eyes grew white with wrath: + + "O who art thou, and wherefore, and why art thou in the path?" + + Then he turned to the ash-grey Serpent, and grovelled low on the ground, + And he drank of that pool of the blood where the stones of the wild were + drowned, + And long he lapped as a dog; but when he arose again, + Lo, a flock of the mountain-eagles that drew to the feastful plain; + And he turned and looked on Sigurd, as bright in the sun he stood, + A stripling fair and slender, and wiped the Wrath of the blood. + + * * * * * + + Then he scowled and crouched and darkened, and came to Sigurd and spake: + "O child, thou hast slain my brother, and the Wrath is alive and awake." + + "Thou sayest sooth," said Sigurd, "thy deed and mine is done: + But now our ways shall sunder, for here, meseemeth, the sun + Hath but little of deeds to do, and no love to win aback." + + * * * * * + + But Regin darkened before him, and exceeding grim was he grown, + And he spake: "Thou hast slain my brother, and wherewith wilt thou atone?" + + "Stand up, O Master," said Sigurd, "O Singer of ancient days, + And take the wealth I have won thee, ere we wend on the sundering ways. + I have toiled and thou hast desired, and the Treasure is surely anear, + And thou hast wisdom to find it, and I have slain thy fear." + + But Regin crouched and darkened: "Thou hast slain my brother," he said. + + "Take thou the Gold," quoth Sigurd, "for the ransom of my head!" + + Then Regin crouched and darkened, and over the earth he hung; + And he said: "Thou hast slain my brother, and the Gods are yet but young." + + * * * * * + + And he spake: "Thou hast slain my brother, and today shall thou be my + thrall: + Yea, a King shall be my cook-boy and this heath my cooking-hall." + + Then he crept to the ash-grey coils where the life of his brother had lain, + And he drew a glaive from his side and smote the smitten and slain, + And tore the heart from Fafnir, while the eagles cried o'erhead, + And sharp and shrill was their voice o'er the entrails of the dead. + + Then Regin spake to Sigurd: "Of this slaying wilt thou be free? + Then gather thou fire together and roast the heart for me, + That I may eat it and live, and be thy master and more; + For therein was might and wisdom, and the grudged and hoarded lore:-- + --Or else, depart on thy ways afraid from the Glittering Heath." + + Then he fell abackward and slept, nor set his sword in the sheath. + + * * * * * + + But Sigurd took the Heart, and wood on the waste he found, + The wood that grew and died, as it crept on the niggard ground, + And grew and died again, and lay like whitened bones; + And the ernes cried over his head, as he builded his hearth of stones, + And kindled the fire for cooking, and sat and sang o'er the roast + The song of his fathers of old, and the Wolflings' gathering host: + So there on the Glittering Heath rose up the little flame, + And the dry sticks crackled amidst it, and alow the eagles came, + And seven they were by tale, and they pitched all round about + The cooking-fire of Sigurd, and sent their song-speech out: + But nought he knoweth its wisdom, or the word that they would speak: + And hot grew the Heart of Fafnir and sang amid the reek. + + Then Sigurd looketh on Regin, and he deemeth it overlong + That he dighteth the dear-bought morsel, and the might for the Master of + wrong, + So he reacheth his hand to the roast to see if the cooking be o'er; + But the blood and the fat seethed from it and scalded his finger sore, + And he set his hand to his mouth to quench the fleshly smart, + And he tasted the flesh of the Serpent and the blood of Fafnir's Heart: + Then there came a change upon him, for the speech of fowl he knew, + And wise in the ways of the beast-kind as the Dwarfs of old he grew; + And he knitted his brows and hearkened, and wrath in his heart arose + For he felt beset of evil in a world of many foes. + But the hilts of the Wrath he handled, and Regin's heart he saw, + And how that the Foe of the Gods the net of death would draw; + And his bright eyes flashed and sparkled, and his mouth grew set and stern + As he hearkened the voice of the eagles, and their song began to learn. + +And six of the eagles cried to Sigurd not to tarry before the feast, and +they urged him to kill Regin, who had planned Fafnir's death that he +alone might live and fashion the world after his evil will. + + And the seventh: "Arise, O Sigurd, lest the hour be overlate! + For the sun in the mid-noon shineth, and swift is the hand of Fate: + Arise! lest the world run backward and the blind heart have its will, + And once again be tangled the sundered good and ill; + Lest love and hatred perish, lest the world forget its tale, + And the Gods sit deedless, dreaming, in the high-walled heavenly vale." + + Then swift ariseth Sigurd, and the Wrath in his hand is bare, + And he looketh, and Regin sleepeth, and his eyes wide-open glare; + But his lips smile false in his dreaming, and his hand is on the sword; + For he dreams himself the Master and the new world's fashioning-lord, + And his dream hath forgotten Sigurd, and the King's life lies in the pit; + He is nought; Death gnaweth upon him, while the Dwarfs in mastery sit. + + But lo, how the eyes of Sigurd the heart of the guileful behold, + And great is Allfather Odin, and upriseth the Curse of the Gold, + And the Branstock bloometh to heaven from the ancient wondrous root; + The summer hath shone on its blossoms, and Sigurd's Wrath is the fruit. + + * * * * * + + Then his second stroke struck Sigurd, for the Wrath flashed thin and white, + And 'twixt head and trunk of Regin fierce ran the fateful light; + And there lay brother by brother a faded thing and wan. + But Sigurd cried in the desert: "So far have I wended on! + Dead are the foes of God-home that would blend the good and the ill; + And the World shall yet be famous, and the Gods shall have their will. + Nor shall I be dead and forgotten, while the earth grows worse and worse, + With the blind heart king o'er the people, and binding curse with curse." + + +_How Sigurd took to him the Treasure of the Elf Andvari._ + +So Sigurd ate of the heart of Fafnir, and as he ate the longing to be +gone to mighty deeds grew great, and he leapt on Greyfell and sought the +home of the Dweller amid the Gold on the edge of the heath. He strode +through the doorway, and before him lay golden armour, golden coins, +and golden sands from rivers that none but the Dwarfs could mine. But +more wonderful than all other treasures were the Helm of Aweing, and the +Hauberk all of gold, while on top of the midmost heap, gleaming like +the brightest star in the sky, lay the ring of Andvari. + +Sigurd put on the helm and the hauberk, and dragged out gold wherewith he +loaded Greyfell till the cloud-grey horse shone, while the eagles ever +bade him bring forth the treasure, and let the gold shine in the open. +And as the stars paled and the dawn grew clearer, Sigurd and Greyfell +passed swiftly and lightly towards the west. + + +_How Sigurd awoke Brynhild upon Hindfell._ + + By long roads rideth Sigurd amidst that world of stone, + And somewhat south he turneth; for he would not be alone, + But longs for the dwellings of man-folk, and the kingly people's speech, + And the days of the glee and the joyance, where men laugh each to each. + But still the desert endureth, and afar must Greyfell fare + From the wrack of the Glittering Heath, and Fafnir's golden lair. + Long Sigurd rideth the waste, when, lo, on a morning of day + From out of the tangled crag-walls, amidst the cloud-land grey + Comes up a mighty mountain, and it is as though there burns + A torch amidst of its cloud-wreath; so thither Sigurd turns, + For he deems indeed from its topmost to look on the best of the earth; + And Greyfell neigheth beneath him, and his heart is full of mirth. + + * * * * * + + Night falls, but yet rides Sigurd, and hath no thought of rest, + For he longs to climb that rock-world and behold the earth at its best; + But now mid the maze of the foot-hills he seeth the light no more, + And the stars are lovely and gleaming on the lightless heavenly floor. + So up and up he wendeth till the night is wearing thin; + And he rideth a rift of the mountain, and all is dark therein, + Till the stars are dimmed by dawning and the wakening world is cold; + Then afar in the upper rock-wall a breach doth he behold, + And a flood of light poured inward the doubtful dawning blinds: + So swift he rideth thither and the mouth of the breach he finds, + And sitteth awhile on Greyfell on the marvellous thing to gaze: + For lo, the side of Hindfell enwrapped by the fervent blaze, + And nought 'twixt earth and heaven save a world of flickering flame, + And a hurrying shifting tangle, where the dark rents went and came. + + Great groweth the heart of Sigurd with uttermost desire, + And he crieth kind to Greyfell, and they hasten up, and nigher, + Till he draweth rein in the dawning on the face of Hindfell's steep: + But who shall heed the dawning where the tongues of that wildfire leap? + For they weave a wavering wall, that driveth over the heaven + The wind that is born within it; nor ever aside is it driven + By the mightiest wind of the waste, and the rain-flood amidst it is nought; + And no wayfarer's door and no window the hand of its builder hath wrought. + But thereon is the Volsung smiling as its breath uplifteth his hair, + And his eyes shine bright with its image, and his mail gleams white and + fair, + And his war-helm pictures the heavens and the waning stars behind: + But his neck is Greyfell stretching to snuff at the flame-wall blind, + And his cloudy flank upheaveth, and tinkleth the knitted mail, + And the gold of the uttermost waters is waxen wan and pale. + + Now Sigurd turns in his saddle, and the hilt of the Wrath he shifts, + And draws a girth the tighter; then the gathered reins he lifts, + And crieth aloud to Greyfell, and rides at the wildfire's heart; + But the white wall wavers before him and the flame-flood rusheth apart, + And high o'er his head it riseth, and wide and wild is its roar + As it beareth the mighty tidings to the very heavenly floor: + But he rideth through its roaring as the warrior rides the rye, + When it bows with the wind of the summer and the hid spears draw anigh. + The white flame licks his raiment and sweeps through Greyfell's mane, + And bathes both hands of Sigurd and the hilts of Fafnir's bane, + And winds about his war-helm and mingles with his hair, + But nought his raiment dusketh or dims his glittering gear; + Then it fails and fades and darkens till all seems left behind, + And dawn and the blaze is swallowed in mid-mirk stark and blind. + + But forth a little further and a little further on + And all is calm about him, and he sees the scorched earth wan + Beneath a glimmering twilight, and he turns his conquering eyes, + And a ring of pale slaked ashes on the side of Hindfell lies; + And the world of the waste is beyond it; and all is hushed and grey, + And the new-risen moon is a-paleing, and the stars grow faint with day. + + Then Sigurd looked before him and a Shield-burg there he saw, + A wall of the tiles of Odin wrought clear without a flaw, + The gold by the silver gleaming, and the ruddy by the white; + And the blazonings of their glory were done upon them bright. + As of dear things wrought for the war-lords new come to Odin's hall. + Piled high aloft to the heavens uprose that battle-wall, + And far o'er the topmost shield-rim for a banner of fame there hung + A glorious golden buckler; and against the staff it rung + As the earliest wind of dawning uprose on Hindfell's face + And the light from the yellow east beamed soft on the shielded place. + + But the Wrath cried out in answer as Sigurd leapt adown + To the wasted soil of the desert by that rampart of renown; + He looked but little beneath it, and the dwelling of God it seemed, + As against its gleaming silence the eager Sigurd gleamed: + He draweth not sword from scabbard, as the wall he wendeth around, + And it is but the wind and Sigurd that wakeneth any sound: + But, lo, to the gate he cometh, and the doors are open wide, + And no warder the way withstandeth, and no earls by the threshold abide. + So he stands awhile and marvels; then the baleful light of the Wrath + Gleams bare in his ready hand as he wendeth the inward path: + For he doubteth some guile of the Gods, or perchance some Dwarf-king's + snare, + Or a mock of the Giant people that shall fade in the morning air: + But he getteth him in and gazeth; and a wall doth he behold, + And the ruddy set by the white, and the silver by the gold; + But within the garth that it girdeth no work of man is set, + But the utmost head of Hindfell ariseth higher yet; + And below in the very midmost is a Giant-fashioned mound, + Piled high as the rims of the Shield-burg above the level ground; + And there, on that mound of the Giants, o'er the wilderness forlorn, + A pale grey image lieth, and gleameth in the morn. + + So there was Sigurd alone; and he went from the shielded door, + And aloft in the desert of wonder the Light of the Branstock he bore; + And he set his face to the earth-mound, and beheld the image wan, + And the dawn was growing about it; and, lo, the shape of a man + Set forth to the eyeless desert on the tower-top of the world, + High over the cloud-wrought castle whence the windy bolts are hurled. + + * * * * * + + Now over the body he standeth, and seeth it shapen fair, + And clad from head to foot-sole in pale grey-glittering gear, + In a hauberk wrought as straitly as though to the flesh it were grown: + But a great helm hideth the head and is girt with a glittering crown. + + So thereby he stoopeth and kneeleth, for he deems it were good indeed + If the breath of life abide there and the speech to help at need; + And as sweet as the summer wind from a garden under the sun + Cometh forth on the topmost Hindfell the breath of that sleeping-one. + Then he saith he will look on the face, if it bear him love or hate, + Or the bonds for his life's constraining, or the sundering doom of fate. + So he draweth the helm from the head, and, lo, the brow snow-white, + And the smooth unfurrowed cheeks, and the wise lips breathing light; + And the face of a woman it is, and the fairest that ever was born, + Shown forth to the empty heavens and the desert world forlorn: + But he looketh, and loveth her sore, and he longeth her spirit to move, + And awaken her heart to the world, that she may behold him and love. + And he toucheth her breast and her hands, and he loveth her passing sore. + And he saith: "Awake! I am Sigurd;" but she moveth never the more. + Then he looked on his bare bright blade, and he said: "Thou--what wilt thou + do? + For indeed as I came by the war-garth thy voice of desire I knew." + Bright burnt the pale blue edges for the sunrise drew anear, + And the rims of the Shield-burg glittered, and the east was exceeding clear: + So the eager edges he setteth to the Dwarf-wrought battle-coat + Where the hammered ring-knit collar constraineth the woman's throat; + But the sharp Wrath biteth and rendeth, and before it fail the rings, + And, lo, the gleam of the linen, and the light of golden things: + Then he driveth the blue steel onward, and through the skirt, and out, + Till nought but the rippling linen is wrapping her about; + Then he deems her breath comes quicker and her breast begins to heave, + So he turns about the War-Flame and rends down either sleeve, + Till her arms lie white in her raiment, and a river of sun-bright hair + Flows free o'er bosom and shoulder and floods the desert bare. + + Then a flush cometh over her visage and a sigh up-heaveth her breast, + And her eyelids quiver and open, and she wakeneth into rest; + Wide-eyed on the dawning she gazeth, too glad to change or smile, + And but little moveth her body, nor speaketh she yet for a while; + And yet kneels Sigurd moveless her wakening speech to heed, + While soft the waves of the daylight o'er the starless heavens speed, + And the gleaming rims of the Shield-burg yet bright and brighter grow, + And the thin moon hangeth her horns dead-white in the golden glow. + + Then she turned and gazed on Sigurd, and her eyes met the Volsung's eyes. + And mighty and measureless now did the tide of his love arise, + For their longing had met and mingled, and he knew of her heart that she + loved, + As she spake unto nothing but him and her lips with the speech-flood moved: + + "O, what is the thing so mighty that my weary sleep hath torn, + And rent the fallow bondage, and the wan woe over-worn?" + + He said: "The hand of Sigurd and the Sword of Sigmund's son, + And the heart that the Volsungs fashioned this deed for thee have done." + But she said: "Where then is Odin that laid me here alow? + Long lasteth the grief of the world, and manfolk's tangled woe!" + + "He dwelleth above," said Sigurd, "but I on the earth abide, + And I came from the Glittering Heath the waves of thy fire to ride." + + * * * * * + + Then Sigurd looketh upon her, and the words from his heart arise: + "Thou art the fairest of earth, and the wisest of the wise; + O who art thou that lovest? I am Sigurd, e'en as I told; + I have slain the Foe of the Gods, and gotten the Ancient Gold; + And great were the gain of thy love, and the gift of mine earthly days, + If we twain should never sunder as we wend on the changing ways. + O who art thou that lovest, thou fairest of all things born? + And what meaneth thy sleep and thy slumber in the wilderness forlorn?" + +Then the maiden told him that she had been the handmaid of the +All-father, but that she grew too proud, and Odin had sent her to +Hindfell, where the sleep thorn pierced her that she might sleep till +she found the fearless heart she would wed. Such a one had she found +now, and many were the words of prophetic wisdom and warning that +fell from her lips on the ears of Sigurd. + +But many though they were they were not enough for him, who prayed +her to speak with him more of Wisdom. + +So together they sat on the side of Hindfell and talked of all that is +and can be, and then together they climbed the mountain, till beneath +them they saw the kingdoms of the earth stretching far away, and +Brynhild bade him look down on her home, saying: + + "Yet I bid thee look on the land 'twixt the wood and the silver sea + In the bight of the swirling river, and the house that cherished me! + There dwelleth mine earthly sister and the king that she hath wed; + There morn by morn aforetime I woke on the golden bed; + There eve by eve I tarried mid the speech and the lays of kings; + There noon by noon I wandered and plucked the blossoming things; + The little land of Lymdale by the swirling river's side, + Where Brynhild once was I called in the days ere my father died; + The little land of Lymdale 'twixt the woodland and the sea, + Where on thee mine eyes shall brighten and thine eyes shall beam on me." + + "I shall seek thee there," said Sigurd, "when the day-spring is begun, + Ere we wend the world together in the season of the sun." + + "I shall bide thee there," said Brynhild, "till the fulness of the days, + And the time for the glory appointed, and the springing-tide of praise." + + From his hand then draweth Sigurd Andvari's ancient Gold; + There is nought but the sky above them as the ring together they hold, + The shapen ancient token, that hath no change nor end, + No change, and no beginning, no flaw for God to mend: + Then Sigurd cries: "O Brynhild, now hearken while I swear, + That the sun shall die in the heavens and the day no more be fair, + If I seek not love in Lymdale and the house that fostered thee, + And the land where thou awakedst 'twixt the woodland and the sea!" + + And she cried: "O Sigurd, Sigurd, now hearken while I swear + That the day shall die for ever and the sun to blackness wear, + Ere I forget thee, Sigurd, as I lie 'twixt wood and sea + In the little land of Lymdale and the house that fostered me!" + + Then he set the ring on her finger and once, if ne'er again, + They kissed and clung together, and their hearts were full and fain. + + * * * * * + + + + +BOOK III. + +BRYNHILD. + + +_Of Sigurd's riding to the Niblungs._ + + +Now Brynhild and Sigurd left Hindfell, and Brynhild went to dwell in +her sister's house, but Sigurd abode not long in the land of Lymdale, +for his love urged him to great adventures wherein he might win glory +befitting the man who should wed so noble a woman as Brynhild. + +So it befell one day in summer that he dight himself in the Helm of +Aweing and the Mail-coat all of gold, and girded the Wrath to his side +to ride forth again. And on his saddle he bound the red rings of +Fafnir's Treasure. + +Then he kissed the ancient King Heimir, and hailed the folk of the +land who came to give him god-speed. + + And he gathered the reins together, and set his face to the road, + And the glad steed neighed beneath him as they fared from the King's abode. + And out past the dewy closes; but the shouts went up to the sky, + Though some for very sorrow forbore the farewell cry, + Nor was any man but heavy that the godlike guest should go; + And they craved for that glad heart guileless, and that face without a foe. + + * * * * * + + But forth by dale and lealand doth the Son of Sigmund wend, + Till far away lies Lymdale and the folk of the forest's end; + And he rides a heath unpeopled and holds the westward way, + Till a long way off before him come up the mountains grey; + Grey, huge beyond all telling, and the host of the heaped clouds, + The black and the white together, on that rock-wall's coping crowds. + + * * * * * + + So up and down he rideth, till at even of the day + A hill's brow he o'ertoppeth that had hid the mountains grey; + Huge, blacker they showed than aforetime, white hung the cloud-flecks there, + But red was the cloudy crown, for the sun was sinking fair: + A wide plain lay beneath him, and a river through it wound + Betwixt the lea and the acres, and the misty orchard ground; + But forth from the feet of the mountains a ridged hill there ran + That upreared at its hithermost ending a builded burg of man; + And Sigurd deemed in his heart as he looked on the burg from afar, + That the high Gods scarce might win it, if thereon they fell with war; + So many and great were the walls, so bore the towers on high + The threat of guarded battle, and the tale of victory. + + * * * * * + + For as waves on the iron river of the days whereof nothing is told + Stood up the many towers, so stark and sharp and cold; + But dark-red and worn and ancient as the midmost mountain-sides + Is the wall that goeth about them; and its mighty compass hides + Full many a dwelling of man whence the reek now goeth aloft, + And the voice of the house-abiders, the sharp sounds blent with the soft: + But one house in the midst is unhidden and high up o'er the wall it goes; + Aloft in the wind of the mountains its golden roof-ridge glows, + And down mid its buttressed feet is the wind's voice never still; + And the day and the night pass o'er it and it changes to their will, + And whiles is it glassy and dark, and whiles is it white and dead, + And whiles is it grey as the sea-mead, and whiles is it angry red; + And it shimmers under the sunshine and grows black to the threat of the + storm, + And dusk its gold roof glimmers when the rain-clouds over it swarm, + And bright in the first of the morning its flame doth it uplift, + When the light clouds rend before it and along its furrows drift. + +Then Sigurd's heart was glad as he beheld the city, and after a while +he came to a gate-way set in the northern wall, and the gate was long +and dark as a sea-cave. But no man stayed him as he rode through the +dusk to the inner court-yard, and saw the lofty roof of the hall +before him, cold now and grey like a very cloud, for the sun was +fully set. But in the towers watch-men were calling one to another. +To them he cried, saying:-- + + "Ho, men of this mighty burg, to what folk of the world am I come? + And who is the King of battles who dwells in this lordly home? + Or perchance are ye of the Elf-kin? are ye guest-fain, kind at the board, + Or murder-churls and destroyers to gain and die by the sword?" + Then the spears in the forecourt glittered and the swords shone over the + wall, + But the song of smitten harp-strings came faint from the cloudy hall. + And he hearkened a voice and a crying: "The house of Giuki the King, + And the Burg of the Niblung people and the heart of their warfaring." + There were many men about him, and the wind in the wall-nook sang, + And the spears of the Niblungs glittered, and the swords in the forecourt + rang. + But they looked on his face in the even, and they hushed their voices and + gazed, + For fear and great desire the hearts of men amazed. + + Now cometh an earl to King Giuki as he sits in godlike wise + With his sons, the Kings of battle, and his wife of the glittering eyes, + And the King cries out at his coming to tell why the watch-horns blew; + But the earl saith: "Lord of the people, choose now what thou wilt do; + For here is a strange new-comer, and he saith, to thee alone + Will he tell of his name and his kindred, and the deeds that his hand hath + done." + + * * * * * + + Then uprose the King of the Niblungs, and was clad in purple and pall, + And his sheathed sword lay in his hand, as he gat him adown the hall, + And abroad through the Niblung doorway; and a mighty man he was, + And wise and ancient of days: so there by the earls doth he pass, + And beholdeth the King on the war-steed and looketh up in his face: + But Sigurd smileth upon him in the Niblungs' fenced place, + As the King saith: "Gold-bestrider, who into our garth wouldst ride, + Wilt thou tell thy name to a King, who biddeth thee here abide + And have all good at our hands? for unto the Niblungs' home + And the heart of a war-fain people from the weary road are ye come; + And I am Giuki the King: so now if thou nam'st thee a God, + Look not to see me tremble; for I know of such that have trod + Unfeared in the Burg of the Niblungs; nor worser, nor better at all + May fare the folk of the Gods than the Kings in Giuki's hall; + So I bid thee abide in my house, and when many days are o'er, + Thou shalt tell us at last of thine errand, if thou bear us peace or war." + + Then all rejoiced at his word till the swords on the bucklers rang, + And adown from the red-gold Treasure the Son of Sigmund sprang, + And he took the hand of Giuki, and kissed him soft and sweet, + And spake: "Hail, ancient of days! for thou biddest me things most meet, + And thou knowest the good from the evil: few days are over and gone + Since my father was old in the world ere the deed of my making was won; + But Sigmund the Volsung he was, full ripe of years and of fame; + And I, who have never beheld him, am Sigurd called of name; + Too young in the world am I waxen that a tale thereof should be told, + And yet have I slain the Serpent, and gotten the Ancient Gold, + And broken the bonds of the weary, and ridden the Wavering Fire. + But short is mine errand to tell, and the end of my desire: + For peace I bear unto thee, and to all the kings of the earth, + Who bear the sword aright, and are crowned with the crown of worth; + But unpeace to the lords of evil, and the battle and the death; + And the edge of the sword to the traitor, and the flame to the slanderous + breath: + And I would that the loving were loved, and I would that the weary should + sleep, + And that man should hearken to man, and that he that soweth should reap. + Now wide in the world would I fare, to seek the dwellings of Kings, + For with them would I do and undo, and be heart of their warfarings; + So I thank thee, lord, for thy bidding, and here in thine house will I bide, + And learn of thine ancient wisdom till forth to the field we ride." + + Glad then was the murmur of folk, for the tidings had gone forth, + And its breath had been borne to the Niblungs, and the tale of Sigurd's + worth. + + But the King said: "Welcome, Sigurd, full fair of deed and of word! + And here mayst thou win thee fellows for the days of the peace and the + sword; + For not lone in the world have I lived, but sons from my loins have sprung, + Whose deeds with the rhyme are mingled, and their names with the people's + tongue." + + Then he took his hand in his hand, and into the hall they passed, + And great shouts of salutation to the cloudy roof were cast; + And they rang from the glassy pillars, and the Gods on the hangings stirred, + And afar the clustering eagles on the golden roof-ridge heard, + And cried out on the Sword of the Branstock as they cried in the other days: + Then the harps rang out in the hall, and men sang in Sigurd's praise + + * * * * * + + But now on the dais he meeteth the kin of Giuki the wise: + Lo, here is the crowned Grimhild, the queen of the glittering eyes; + Lo, here is the goodly Gunnar with the face of a king's desire; + Lo, here is Hogni that holdeth the wisdom tried in the fire; + Lo, here is Guttorm the youngest, who longs for the meeting swords; + Lo, here, as a rose in the oak-boughs, amid the Niblung lords + Is the Maid of the Niblungs standing, the white-armed Giuki's child; + And all these looked long on Sigurd and their hearts upon him smiled. + +Then all gave him greeting as one who should be their fellow in mighty +deeds, and the fair-armed Gudrun, Giuki's daughter, brought him a cup +of welcome, and that night the Niblungs feasted in gladness of heart. + + +_Of Sigurd's warfaring in the company of the Niblungs, and of his great +fame and glory._ + +So Sigurd abode with the Niblungs all through summer and harvest time +till with the stark midwinter came tidings of war. Then the earls of +Giuki donned dusky hauberks and led forth their bands from the +fortress, and the fair face and golden gear of Sigurd shone among +those swart-haired warriors. + +They fell on the cities of the plains, but none might resist the +valour of Sigurd, and the Niblungs turned in triumph from the war, +bringing rich spoil. So all that winter Sigurd fared to war with them +and grew greater in glory and more beloved of all men, but ever the +thoughts of his heart turned to Lymdale and to Brynhild who awaited +him there. + + Now sheathed is the Wrath of Sigurd; for as wax withstands the flame, + So the Kings of the land withstood him and the glory of his fame. + And before the grass is growing, or the kine have fared from the stall, + The song of the fair-speech-masters goes up in the Niblung hall, + And they sing of the golden Sigurd and the face without a foe, + And the lowly man exalted and the mighty brought alow: + And they say, when the sun of summer shall come aback to the land, + It shall shine on the fields of the tiller that fears no heavy hand; + That the sheaf shall be for the plougher, and the loaf for him that sowed, + Through every furrowed acre where the son of Sigmund rode. + + Full dear was Sigurd the Volsung to all men most and least, + And now, as the spring drew onward, 'twas deemed a goodly feast + For the acre-biders' children by the Niblung Burg to wait, + If perchance the Son of Sigmund should ride abroad by the gate: + For whosoever feared him, no little-one, forsooth, + Would shrink from the shining eyes and the hand that clave out truth + From the heart of the wrack and the battle: it was then, as his gold gear + burned + O'er the balks of the bridge and the river, that oft the mother turned, + And spake to the laughing baby: "O little son, and dear, + When I from the world am departed, and whiles a-nights ye hear + The best of man-folk longing for the least of Sigurd's days, + Thou shalt hearken to their story, till they tell forth all his praise, + And become beloved and a wonder, as thou sayest when all is sung, + 'And I too once beheld him in the days when I was young.'" + + * * * * * + + Yea, they sing the song of Sigurd and the face without a foe, + And they sing of the prison's rending and the tyrant laid alow, + And the golden thieves' abasement, and the stilling of the churl, + And the mocking of the dastard where the chasing edges whirl; + And they sing of the outland maidens that thronged round Sigurd's hand, + And sung in the streets of the foemen of the war-delivered land; + And they tell how the ships of the merchants come free and go at their will, + And how wives in peace and safety may crop the vine-clad hill; + How the maiden sits in her bower, and the weaver sings at his loom, + And forget the kings of grasping and the greedy days of gloom; + For by sea and hill and township hath the Son of Sigmund been, + And looked on the folk unheeded, and the lowly people seen. + + * * * * * + + But he stood in the sight of the people, and sweet he was to see, + And no foe and no betrayer, and no envier now hath he: + But Gunnar the bright in the battle deems him his earthly friend, + And Hogni is fain of his fellow, howso the day's work end, + And Guttorm the young is joyous of the help and gifts he hath; + And all these would shine beside him in the glory of his path; + There is none to hate or hinder, or mar the golden day, + And the light of love flows plenteous, as the sun-beams hide the way. + + +_Of the Cup of evil drink that Grimhild the Wise-wife gave to Sigurd._ + +Now Gudrun the daughter of Giuki beheld Sigurd's glory and knew the +kindness of his heart, and set her love on him, not knowing that all +his thoughts were given to Brynhild. So Sigurd, seeing her sad and in +no wise guessing the cause of her grief, strove to comfort her with +kindly words, but her mood was still unchanged. + +Then Grimhild the Queen, who was a witch-wife and a woman of crafty +mind, marked the love of Gudrun for Sigurd, and marked moreover how +his power and honour in the land would soon be greater than that of +her own sons. Therefore she cast about for some shift that might bind +Sigurd to serve with the Niblungs all his life-days. + +Now it befell one night that Sigurd had returned from warring and sat +on the high-seat to sup with the Niblung kings. His heart was merry +with victory and ever he thought of Hindfell and of Lymdale and the +love of Brynhild. The people waxed joyful, and the hangings whereon +glowed figures of the gods were stirred with their song and shouting +till Giuki called on Sigurd to take the harp and sing of deeds agone. +Then all men hearkened, hushed and happy, while Sigurd struck the +strings and sang of his mighty kin, of Volsung, of Signy, and of +Sigmund, their deeds and noble deaths. At last the tale was ended and +he fell silent thinking still of Brynhild. + +Now came Grimhild bearing him a cup of wine and speaking fair words +of praise, but in the wine she had mingled a fatal witch-drink. So +she stood by Sigurd and said:-- + + "There is none of the kings of kingdoms that may match thy goodlihead: + Lo now, thou hast sung of thy fathers; but men shall sing of thee, + And therewith shall our house be remembered, and great shall our glory be. + I beseech thee hearken a little to a faithful word of mine, + When thou of this cup hast drunken; for my love is blent with the wine." + + He laughed and took the cup: But therein with the blood of the earth + Earth's hidden might was mingled, and deeds of the cold sea's birth, + And things that the high Gods turn from, and a tangle of strange love, + Deep guile and strong compelling, that whoso drank thereof + Should remember not his longing, should cast his love away, + Remembering dead desire but as night remembereth day. + + So Sigurd looked on the horn, and he saw how fair it was scored + With the cunning of the Dwarf-kind and the masters of the sword; + And he drank and smiled on Grimhild above the beaker's rim, + And she looked and laughed at his laughter; and the soul was changed in him. + Men gazed and their hearts sank in them, and they knew not why it was, + Why the fair-lit hall was darkling, nor what had come to pass: + For they saw the sorrow of Sigurd, who had seen but his deeds erewhile, + And the face of the mighty darkened, who had known but the light of its + smile. + + But Grimhild looked and was merry: and she deemed her life was great, + And her hand a wonder of wonders to withstand the deeds of Fate: + For she saw by the face of Sigurd and the token of his eyes + That her will had abased the valiant, and filled the faithful with lies. + + * * * * * + + But the heart was changed in Sigurd; as though it ne'er had been + His love of Brynhild perished as he gazed on the Niblung Queen: + Brynhild's beloved body was e'en as a wasted hearth, + No more for bale or blessing, for plenty or for dearth. + --O ye that shall look hereafter, when the day of Sigurd is done, + And the last of his deeds is accomplished, and his eyes are shut in the sun, + When ye look and long for Sigurd, and the image of Sigurd behold, + And his white sword still as the moon, and his strong hand heavy and cold, + Then perchance shall ye think of this even, then perchance shall ye wonder + and cry, + "Twice over, King, are we smitten, and twice have we seen thee die." + + * * * * * + + Men say that a little after the evil of that night + All waste is the burg of Brynhild, and there springeth a marvellous light + On the desert hard by Lymdale, and few men know for why; + But there are, who say that a wildfire thence roareth up to the sky + Round a glorious golden dwelling, wherein there sitteth a Queen + In remembrance of the wakening, and the slumber that hath been; + Wherein a Maid there sitteth, who knows not hope nor rest + For remembrance of the Mighty, and the Best come forth from the Best. + +Now after Sigurd took the witch-drink came a great hush upon the +feast-hall for a space. But Grimhild was fain of that hour and cried +to the scalds for music, and they hastened to strike the harp, but no +joy mingled with the sounds and no man was moved to singing. + +No word spake Sigurd till the feast was over; then he strode out +alone from the hall and the folk fell back before him. So he took a +steed and all that night he rode alone in the deedless dark, and all +the morrow, very heavy at heart yet knowing no cause for grief, and +remembering all things save Brynhild. + +At last he came again at sunset to the Niblung gates, and there came +forth Giuki and Grimhild and the Niblung brethren with fair words of +greeting, but in the doorway Gudrun stood and wept. So Sigurd entered +with them, yet he knew that a flood of sorrow had come on his +life-days and that no more might he feel the joy he had known +aforetime in the Niblung hall. Howbeit, when he looked on the people +and saw them in fear at his trouble, the kindness of his heart was +kindled, and thrusting the heavy sorrow aside, he lifted his head and +spake wise words of good cheer so that the folk looking on him were +comforted. + + +_Of the Wedding of Sigurd the Volsung._ + +But Gudrun knew Sigurd's heart and was sorrowful because of his grief +and her great love for him, and when Grimhild bade her carry him wine, +she arose and took the cup but could find no word to speak for +anguish. And Sigurd looking on her face saw there a kindness and a +sorrow like his own, and seeing it he knew that she loved him. Then +pity and love for her rose in his heart and comforted him, and he +took the cup from her and spake, saying:-- + + "Here are glad men about us, and a joyous folk of war, + And they that have loved thee for long, and they that have cherished mine + heart; + But we twain alone are woeful, as sad folk sitting apart. + Ah, if I thy soul might gladden! if thy lips might give me peace! + Then belike were we gladdest of all; for I love thee more than these. + The cup of goodwill that thou bearest, and the greeting thou wouldst say, + Turn these to the cup of thy love, and the words of the troth-plighting day; + The love that endureth for ever, and the never-dying troth, + To face the Norns' undoing, and the Gods amid their wrath." + + * * * * * + + And his clear voice saith: + "O Gudrun, now hearken while I swear + That the sun shall die for ever and the day no more be fair, + Ere I forget thy pity and thine inmost heart of love! + Yea, though the Kings be mighty, and the Gods be great above, + I will wade the flood and the fire, and the waste of war forlorn, + To look on the Niblung dwelling, and the house where thou wert born." + + Strange seemed the words to Sigurd that his gathering love compelled, + And sweet and strange desire o'er his tangled trouble welled. + + But bright flashed the eyes of Gudrun, and she said: "King, as for me, + If thou sawest the heart in my bosom, what oath might better thee? + Yet my words thy words shall cherish, as thy lips my lips have done. + --Herewith I swear, O Sigurd, that the earth shall hate the sun, + And the year desire but darkness, and the blossoms shrink from day, + Ere my love shall fail, beloved, or my longing pass away!" + +So they twain went hand in hand to stand before Giuki and Grimhild +and the swart-haired Niblung brethren, and all these were +glad-hearted when they marked their joy and goodlihead. Then Sigurd +spake noble words of thanks to Giuki for all past kindness, and bade +Giuki call him son because he had that day bidden Gudrun to wife, and +he sware also to toil for her exalting and for the weal of all the +Niblung kin. Thereto Giuki answered glad-hearted, "Hail, Sigurd, son +of mine eld!" and called upon Grimhild the Queen to bless him. + +Thus was Sigurd troth-plight to the white-armed Gudrun, and all men +were fain of their love and spake nought but praise of him. + + Hark now, on the morrow morning how the blast of the mighty horn + From the builded Burg of the Niblungs goes over the acres shorn, + And the roads are gay with the riders, and the bull in the stall is left, + And the plough is alone in the furrow, and the wedge in the hole half-cleft; + And late shall the ewes be folded, and the kine come home to the pail, + And late shall the fires be litten in the outmost treeless dale: + For men fare to the gate of Giuki and the ancient cloudy hall, + And therein are the earls assembled and the kings wear purple and pall, + And the flowers are spread beneath them, and the bench-cloths beaten with + gold; + And the walls are strange and wondrous with the noble stories told: + For new-hung is the ancient dwelling with the golden spoils of the south, + And men seem merry for ever, and the praise is in each man's mouth, + And the name of Sigurd the Volsung, the King and the Serpent's Bane, + Who exalteth the high this morning and blesseth the masters of gain: + For men drink the bridal of Sigurd and the white-armed Niblung maid, + And the best with the best shall be mingled, and the gold with the gold + o'erlaid. + + So, fair in the hall is the feasting and men's hearts are uplifted on high, + And they deem that the best of their life-days are surely drawing anigh, + As now, one after other, uprise the scalds renowned, + And their well-beloved voices awake the hoped-for sound, + In the midmost of the high-tide, and the joy of feasting lords. + Then cometh a hush and a waiting, and the light of many swords + Flows into the hall of Giuki by the doorway of the King, + And amid those flames of battle the war-clad warriors bring + The Cup of daring Promise and the hallowed Boar of Son, + And men's hearts grow big with longing and great is the hope-tide grown; + For bright the Son of Sigmund ariseth by the board + And unwinds the knitted peace-strings that hamper Regin's Sword: + Then fierce is the light on the high-seat as men set down the Cup + Anigh the hand of Sigurd, and the edges blue rise up, + And fall on the hallowed Wood-beast: as a trump of the woeful war + Rings the voice of the mighty Volsung as he speaks the words of yore: + + "By the Earth that groweth and giveth, and by all the Earth's increase + That is spent for Gods and man-folk; by the sun that shines on these; + By the Salt-Sea-Flood that beareth the life and death of men; + By the Heavens and Stars that change not, though earth die out again; + By the wild things of the mountain, and the houseless waste and lone; + By the prey of the Goths in the thicket and the holy Beast of Son, + I hallow me to Odin for a leader of his host, + To do the deeds of the Highest, and never count the cost: + And I swear, that whatso great-one shall show the day and the deed, + I shall ask not why nor wherefore, but the sword's desire shall speed: + And I swear to seek no quarrel, nor to swerve aside for aught, + Though the right and the left be blooming, and the straight way wend to + nought: + And I swear to abide and hearken the prayer of any thrall, + Though the war-torch be on the threshold and the foemen's feet in the hall: + And I swear to sit on my throne in the guise of the kings of the earth, + Though the anguish past amending, and the unheard woe have birth: + And I swear to wend in my sorrow that none shall curse mine eyes + For the scowl that quelleth beseeching, and the hate that scorneth the wise. + So help me Earth and Heavens, and the Under-sky and Seas, + And the Stars in their ordered houses, and the Norns that order these!" + + And he drank of the Cup of the Promise, and fair as a star he shone, + And all men rejoiced and wondered, and deemed Earth's glory won. + + Then came the girded maidens, and the slim earls' daughters poured, + And uprose the dark-haired Gunnar and bare was the Niblung sword; + Blue it gleamed in the hand of the folk-king as he laid it low on the Beast, + And took oath as the Goths of aforetime in the hush of the people's feast: + "I will work for the craving of Kings, and accomplish the will of the great, + Nor ask what God withstandeth, nor hearken the tales of fate; + When a King my life hath exalted, and wrought for my hope and my gain, + For every deed he hath done me, thereto shall I fashion twain. + I shall bear forth the fame of the Niblungs through all that hindereth; + In my life shall I win great glory, and be merry in my death." + + So sweareth the lovely war-king and drinketh of the Cup, + And the joy of the people waxeth and their glad cry goeth up. + But again came the girded maidens: earls' daughters pour the wine, + And bare is the blade of Hogni in the feast-hall over the Swine; + Then he cries o'er the hallowed Wood-beast: "Earth, hearken, how I swear, + To beseech no man for his helping, and to vex no God with prayer; + And to seek out the will of the Norns, and look in the eyes of the curse; + And to laugh while the love aboundeth, lest the glad world grow into worse; + Then if in the murder I laugh not, O Earth, remember my name, + And oft tell it aloud to the people for the Niblungs' fated shame!" + + Then he drank of the Cup of the Promise, and all men hearkened and deemed + That his speech was great and valiant, and as one of the wise he seemed. + + Then the linen-folded maidens of the earl-folk lift the gold, + But the earls look each on the other, and Guttorm's place behold, + And empty it lieth before them; for the child hath wearied of peace, + And he sits by the oars in the East-seas, and winneth fame's increase. + Nor then, nor ever after, o'er the Holy Beast he spake, + When mighty hearts were exalted for the golden Sigurd's sake. + + +_Sigurd rideth with the Niblungs, and wooeth Brynhild for King Gunnar._ + + Now it fell on a day of the spring-tide that followed on these things, + That Sigurd fares to the meadows with Gunnar and Hogni the Kings; + For afar is Guttorm the youngest, and he sails the Eastern Seas, + And fares with war-shield hoisted to win him fame's increase. + + * * * * * + + There stay those Kings of the people alone in weed of war, + And they cut a strip of the greensward on the meadow's daisied floor, + And loosen it clean in the midst, while its ends in the earth abide; + Then they heave its midmost aloft, and set on either side + An ancient spear of battle writ round with words of worth; + And these are the posts of the door, whose threshold is of the earth, + And the skin of the earth is its lintel: but with war-glaives gleaming bare + The Niblung Kings and Sigurd beneath the earth-yoke fare; + Then each an arm-vein openeth, and their blended blood falls down + On Earth the fruitful Mother where they rent her turfy gown: + And then, when the blood of the Volsungs hath run with the Niblung blood, + They kneel with their hands upon it and swear the brotherhood: + Each man at his brother's bidding to come with the blade in his hand, + Though the fire and the flood should sunder, and the very Gods withstand: + Each man to love and cherish his brother's hope and will; + Each man to avenge his brother when the Norns his fate fulfill: + And now are they foster-brethren, and in such wise have they sworn + As the God-born Goths of aforetime, when the world was newly born. + But among the folk of the Niblungs goes forth the tale of the same, + And men deem the tidings a glory and the garland of their fame. + + So is Sigurd yet with the Niblungs, and he loveth Gudrun his wife, + And wendeth afield with the brethren to the days of the dooming of life; + And nought his glory waneth, nor falleth the flood of praise: + To every man he hearkeneth, nor gainsayeth any grace, + And glad is the poor in the Doom-ring when he seeth his face mid the Kings, + For the tangle straighteneth before him, and the maze of crooked things. + But the smile is departed from him, and the laugh of Sigurd the young, + And of few words now is he waxen, and his songs are seldom sung. + Howbeit of all the sad-faced was Sigurd loved the best; + And men say: Is the king's heart mighty beyond all hope of rest? + Lo, how he beareth the people! how heavy their woes are grown! + So oft were a God mid the Goth-folk, if he dwelt in the world alone. + +Now Giuki the king was long grown old, and he died and was buried +beneath a great earth-mound high on the mountains. + + So there lieth Giuki the King, mid steel and the glimmer of gold, + As the sound of the feastful Niblungs round his misty house is rolled: + But Gunnar is King of the people, and the chief of the Niblung land; + A man beloved for his mercy, and his might and his open hand; + A glorious king in the battle, a hearkener at the doom, + A singer to sing the sun up from the heart of the midnight gloom. + + On a day sit the Kings in the high-seat when Grimhild saith to her son: + "O Gunnar, King beloved, a fair life hast thou won; + On the flood, in the field hast thou wrought, and hung the chambers with + gold; + Far abroad mid many a people are the tidings of thee told: + Now do a deed for thy mother and the hallowed Niblung hearth, + Lest the house of the mighty perish, and our tale grow wan with dearth. + If thou do the deed that I bid thee, and wed a wife of the Kings, + No less shalt thou cleave the war-helms and scatter the ruddy rings." + + He said: "Meseemeth, mother, thou speakest not in haste, + But hast sought and found beforehand, lest thy fair words fall to waste." + + She said: "Thou sayest the sooth; I have found the thing I sought: + A Maid for thee is shapen, and a Queen for thee is wrought: + In the waste land hard by Lymdale a marvellous hall is built, + With its roof of the red gold beaten, and its wall-stones over-gilt: + Afar o'er the heath men see it, but no man draweth nigher, + For the garth that goeth about it is nought but the roaring fire, + A white wall waving aloft; and no window nor wicket is there, + Whereby the shielded earl-folk or the sons of the merchants may fare: + But few things from me are hidden, and I know in that hall of gold + Sits Brynhild, white as a wild-swan where the foamless seas are rolled; + And the daughter of Kings of the world, and the sister of Queens is she, + And wise, and Odin's Chooser, and the Breath of Victory: + But for this cause sitteth she thus in the ring of the Wavering Flame, + That no son of the Kings will she wed save the mightiest master of fame, + And the man who knoweth not fear, and the man foredoomed of fate + To ride through her Wavering Fire to the door of her golden gate: + And for him she sitteth and waiteth, and him shall she cherish and love, + Though the Kings of the world should withstand it, and the Gods that sit + above. + Speak thou, O mighty Gunnar!--nay rather, Sigurd my son, + Say who but the lord of the Niblungs should wed with this glorious one?" + + Long Sigurd gazeth upon her, and slow he sayeth again: + "I know thy will, my mother; of all the sons of men, + Of all the Kings unwedded, and the kindred of the great, + It is meet that my brother Gunnar should ride to her golden gate." + + * * * * * + + In the May-morn riseth Gunnar with fair face and gleaming eyes, + And he calleth on Sigurd his brother, and he calleth on Hogni the wise: + "Today shall we fare to the wooing, for so doth our mother bid; + We shall go to gaze on marvels, and things from the King-folk hid." + + So they do on the best of their war-gear, and their steeds are dight for the + road, + And forth to the sun neigheth Greyfell as he neighed 'neath the Golden Load: + But or ever they leap to the saddle, while yet in the door they stand, + Thereto cometh Grimhild the wise-wife, and on each head layeth her hand, + As she saith: "Be mighty and wise, as the kings that came before! + For they knew of the ways of the Gods, and the craft of the Gods they bore: + And they knew how the shapes of man-folk are the very images + Of the hearts that abide within them, and they knew of the shaping of these. + Be wise and mighty, O Kings, and look in mine heart and behold + The craft that prevaileth o'er semblance, and the treasured wisdom of old! + I hallow you thus for the day, and I hallow you thus for the night, + And I hallow you thus for the dawning with my fathers' hidden might. + Go now, for ye bear my will while I sit in the hall and spin; + And tonight shall be the weaving, and tomorn the web shall ye win." + + So they leap to the saddles aloft, and they ride and speak no word, + But the hills and the dales are awakened by the clink of the sheathed sword: + None looks in the face of the other, but the earth and the heavens gaze, + And behold those kings of battle ride down the dusty ways. + + So they come to the Waste of Lymdale when the afternoon is begun, + And afar they see the flame-blink on the grey sky under the sun: + And they spur and speak no word, and no man to his fellow will turn; + But they see the hills draw upward and the earth beginning to burn: + And they ride, and the eve is coming, and the sun hangs low o'er the earth, + And the red flame roars up to it from the midst of the desert's dearth. + None turns or speaks to his brother, but the Wrath gleams bare and red, + And blood-red is the Helm of Aweing on the golden Sigurd's head, + And bare is the blade of Gunnar, and the first of the three he rides, + And the wavering wall is before him and the golden sun it hides. + + Then the heart of a king's son failed not, but he tossed his sword on high + And laughed as he spurred for the fire, and cried the Niblung cry; + But the mare's son saw and imagined, and the battle-eager steed, + That so oft had pierced the spear-hedge and never failed at need, + Shrank back, and shrieked in his terror, and spite of spur and rein + Fled fast as the foals unbitted on Odin's pasturing plain; + Wide then he wheeled with Gunnar, but with hand and knee he dealt, + And the voice of a lord beloved, till the steed his master felt, + And bore him back to the brethren; by Greyfell Sigurd stood, + And stared at the heart of the fire, and his helm was red as blood; + But Hogni sat in his saddle, and watched the flames up-roll; + And he said: "Thy steed has failed thee that was once the noblest foal + In the pastures of King Giuki; but since thine heart fails not, + And thou wouldst not get thee backward and say, The fire was hot, + And the voices pent within it were singing nought but death, + Let Sigurd lend thee his steed that wore the Glittering Heath, + And carried the Bed of the Serpent, and the ancient ruddy rings. + So perchance may the mocks be lesser when men tell of the Niblung Kings." + + Then Sigurd looked on the twain, and he saw their swart hair wave + In the wind of the waste and the flame-blast, and no answer awhile he gave. + But at last he spake: "O brother, on Greyfell shalt thou ride, + And do on the Helm of Aweing and gird the Wrath to thy side, + And cover thy breast with the war-coat that is throughly woven of gold, + That hath not its like in the heavens nor has earth of its fellow told: + For this is the raiment of Kings when they ride the Flickering Fire, + And so sink the flames before them and the might of their desire." + + Then Hogni laughed in his heart, and he said: "This changing were well + If so might the deed be accomplished; but perchance there is more to tell: + Thou shalt take the war-steed, Gunnar, and enough or nought it shall be: + But the coal-blue gear of the Niblungs the golden hall shall see." + Then Sigurd looked on the speaker, as one who would answer again, + But his words died out on the waste and the fire-blast made them vain. + Then he casteth the reins to his brother, and Gunnar praiseth his gift, + And springeth aloft to the saddle as the fair sun fails from the lift; + And Sigurd looks on the burden that Greyfell doth uprear, + The huge king towering upward in the dusky Niblung gear: + There sits the eager Gunnar, and his heart desires the deed, + And of nought he recketh and thinketh, but a fame-stirred warrior's need; + But Greyfell trembleth nothing and nought of the fire doth reck: + Then the spurs in his flank are smitten, and the reins lie loose on his + neck, + And the sharp cry springeth from Gunnar--no handbreadth stirred the beast; + The dusk drew on and over and the light of the fire increased, + And still as a shard on the mountain in the sandy dale alone + Was the shape of the cloudy Greyfell, nor moved he more than the stone; + But right through the heart of the fire for ever Sigurd stared, + As he stood in the gold red-litten with the Wrath's thin edges bared. + + No word for a while spake any, till Gunnar leaped to the earth, + And the anger wrought within him, and the fierce words came to birth: + "Who mocketh the King of the Niblungs in the desert land forlorn? + Is it thou, O Sigurd the Stranger? is it thou, O younger-born? + Dost thou laugh in the hall, O Mother? dost thou spin, and laugh at the tale + That has drawn thy son and thine eldest to the sword and the blaze of the + bale? + Or thou, O God of the Goths, wilt thou hide and laugh thy fill, + While the hands of the foster-brethren the blood of brothers spill?" + + But the awful voice of Sigurd across the wild went forth: + "How changed are the words of Gunnar! where wend his ways of worth? + I mock thee not in the desert, as I mocked thee not in the mead, + When I swore beneath the turf-yoke to help thy fondest need: + Nay, strengthen thine heart for the work, for the gift that thy manhood + awaits; + For I give thee a gift, O Niblung, that shall overload the Fates, + And how may a King sustain it? but forbear with the dark to strive; + For thy mother spinneth and worketh, and her craft is awake and alive." + + Then Hogni spake from the saddle: "The time, and the time is come + To gather the might of our mother, and of her that spinneth at home. + Forbear all words, O Gunnar, and anigh to Sigurd stand, + And face to face behold him, and take his hand in thine hand: + Then be thy will as his will, that his heart may mingle with thine, + And the love that he sware 'neath the earth-yoke with thine hope may + intertwine." + + Then the wrath from the Niblung slippeth and the shame that anger hath bred, + And the heavy wings of the dreamtide flit over Gunnar's head: + But he doth by his brother's bidding, and Sigurd's hand he takes, + And he looks in the eyes of the Volsung, though scarce in the desert he + wakes. + There Hogni sits in the saddle aloof from the King's desire, + And little his lips are moving, as he stares on the rolling fire, + And mutters the spells of his mother, and the words she bade him say: + But the craft of the kings of aforetime on those Kings of the battle lay; + Dark night was spread behind them, and the fire flared up before, + And unheard was the wind of the wasteland mid the white flame's wavering + roar. + + Long Sigurd gazeth on Gunnar, till he sees, as through a cloud, + The long black locks of the Niblung, and the King's face set and proud: + Then the face is alone on the dark, and the dusky Niblung mail + Is nought but the night before him: then whiles will the visage fail, + And grow again as he gazeth, black hair and gleaming eyes, + And fade again into nothing, as for more of vision he tries: + Then all is nought but the night, yea the waste of an emptier thing, + And the fire-wall Sigurd forgetteth, nor feeleth the hand of the King: + Nay, what is it now he remembereth? it is nought that aforetime he knew, + And no world is there left him to live in, and no deed to rejoice in or rue; + But frail and alone he fareth, and as one in the sphere-stream's drift, + By the starless empty places that lie beyond the lift: + Then at last is he stayed in his drifting, and he saith, It is blind and + dark; + Yet he feeleth the earth at his feet, and there cometh a change and a spark, + And away in an instant of time is the mirk of the dreamland rolled, + And there is the fire-lit midnight, and before him an image of gold, + A man in the raiment of Gods, nor fashioned worser than they: + Full sad he gazeth on Sigurd from the great wide eyes and grey; + And the Helm that Aweth the people is set on the golden hair, + And the Mail of Gold enwraps him, and the Wrath in his hand is bare. + + Then Sigurd looks on his arm and his hand in his brother's hand, + And thereon is the dark grey mail-gear well forged in the southern land; + Then he looks on the sword that he beareth, and, lo, the eager blade + That leaps in the hand of Gunnar when the kings are waxen afraid; + And he turns his face o'er his shoulder, and the raven-locks hang down + From the dark-blue helm of the Dwarf-folk, and the rings of the Niblung + crown. + + Then a red flush riseth against him in the face ne'er seen before, + Save dimly in the mirror or the burnished targe of war, + And the foster-brethren sunder, and the clasped hands fall apart; + But a change cometh over Sigurd, and the fierce pride leaps in his heart; + He knoweth the soul of Gunnar, and the shaping of his mind; + He seeketh the words of Sigurd, and Gunnar's voice doth he find, + As he cries: "I know thy bidding; let the world be lief or loth, + The child is unborn that shall hearken how Sigurd rued his oath! + Well fare thou brother Gunnar! what deed shall I do this eve + That I shall never repent of, that thine heart shall never grieve? + What deed shall I do this even that none else may bring to the birth, + Nay, not the King of the Niblungs, and the lord of the best of the earth?" + + The flames rolled up to the heavens, and the stars behind were bright, + Dark Hogni sat on his war-steed, and stared out into the night, + And there stood Gunnar the King in Sigurd's semblance wrapped, + --As Sigurd walking in slumber, for in Grimhild's guile was he lapped, + That his heart forgat his glory, and the ways of Odin's lords, + And the thought was frozen within him, and the might of spoken words. + + But Sigurd leapeth on Greyfell, and the sword in his hand is bare, + And the gold spurs flame on his heels, and the fire-blast lifteth his hair; + Forth Greyfell bounds rejoicing, and they see the grey wax red, + As unheard the war-gear clasheth, and the flames meet over his head, + Yet a while they see him riding, as through the rye men ride, + When the word goes forth in the summer of the kings by the ocean-side; + But the fires were slaked before him and the wild-fire burned no more + Than the ford of the summer waters when the rainy time is o'er. + + Not once turned Sigurd aback, nor looked o'er the ashy ring, + To the midnight wilderness drear and the spell-drenched Niblung King: + But he stayed and looked before him, and lo, a house high-built + With its roof of the red gold beaten, and its wall-stones over-gilt: + So he leapt adown from Greyfell, and came to that fair abode, + And dark in the gear of the Niblungs through the gleaming door he strode: + All light within was that dwelling, and a marvellous hall it was, + But of gold were its hangings woven, and its pillars gleaming as glass, + And Sigurd said in his heart, it was wrought erewhile for a God: + But he looked athwart and endlong as alone its floor he trod, + And lo, on the height of the dais is upreared a graven throne, + And thereon a woman sitting in the golden place alone; + Her face is fair and awful, and a gold crown girdeth her head; + And a sword of the kings she beareth, and her sun-bright hair is shed + O'er the laps of the snow-white linen that ripples adown to her feet: + As a swan on the billow unbroken ere the firth and the ocean meet, + On the dark-blue cloths she sitteth, in the height of the golden place, + Nor breaketh the hush of the hall, though her eyes be set on his face. + + Now he sees this is even the woman of whom the tale hath been told, + E'en she that was wrought for the Niblungs, the bride ordained from of old, + And hushed in the hall he standeth, and a long while looks in her eyes, + And the word he hath shapen for Gunnar to his lips may never arise. + + The man in Gunnar's semblance looked long and knew no deed; + And she looked, and her eyes were dreadful, and none would help her need. + Then the image of Gunnar trembled, and the flesh of the War-King shrank; + For he heard her voice on the silence, and his heart of her anguish drank: + + "King, King, who art thou that comest, thou lord of the cloudy gear? + What deed for the weary-hearted shall thy strange hands fashion here?" + + The speech of her lips pierced through him like the point of the bitter + sword, + And he deemed that death were better than another spoken word; + But he clencheth his hand on the war-blade, and setteth his face as the + brass, + And the voice of his brother Gunnar from out his lips doth pass: + "When thou lookest on me, O Goddess, thou seest Gunnar the King, + The King and the lord of the Niblungs, and the chief of their warfaring. + But art thou indeed that Brynhild of whom is the rumour and fame, + That she bideth the coming of kings to ride her Wavering Flame, + Lest she wed the little-hearted, and the world grow evil and vile? + For if thou be none other I will speak again in a while." + + She said: "Art thou Gunnar the Stranger! O art thou the man that I see? + Yea, verily I am Brynhild; what other is like unto me? + O men of the Earth behold me! hast thou seen, O labouring Earth, + Such sorrow as my sorrow, or such evil as my birth?" + + Then spake the Wildfire's Trampler that Gunnar's image bore: + "O Brynhild, mighty of women, be thou glorious evermore! + Thou seest Gunnar the Niblung, as he sits mid the Niblung lords, + And rides with the gods of battle in the fore-front of the swords." + + * * * * * + + Hard rang his voice in the hall, and a while she spake no word, + And there stood the Image of Gunnar, and leaned on his bright blue sword: + But at last she cried from the high-seat: "If I yet am alive and awake, + I know no words for the speaking, nor what answer I may make." + She ceased and he answered nothing; and a hush on the hall there lay + And the moon slipped over the windows as he clomb the heavenly way; + And no whit stirred the raiment of Brynhild: till she hearkened the Wooer's + voice, + As he said: "Thou art none of the women that swear and forswear and rejoice, + Forgetting the sorrow of kings and the Gods and the labouring earth. + Thou shall wed with King Gunnar the Niblung and increase his worth with thy + worth." + + * * * * * + + So spake he in semblance of Gunnar, and from off his hand he drew + A ring of the spoils of the Southland, a marvel seen but of few, + And he set the ring on her finger, and she turned to her lord and spake: + "I thank thee, King, for thy goodwill, and thy pledge of love I take. + Depart with my troth to thy people: but ere full ten days are o'er + I shall come to the Sons of the Niblungs, and then shall we part no more + Till the day of the change of our life-days, when Odin and Freyia shall + call. + Lo, here, my gift of the morning! 'twas my dearest treasure of all; + But thou art become its master, and for thee was it fore-ordained, + Since thou art the man of mine oath and the best that the earth hath + gained." + + And lo, 'twas the Grief of Andvari, and the lack that made him loth, + The last of the God-folk's ransom, the Ring of Hindfell's oath; + Now on Sigurd's hand it shineth, and long he looketh thereon, + But it gave him back no memories of the days that were bygone. + + * * * * * + + So forth from the hall goes the Wooer, and slow and slow he goes, + As a conquered king from his city fares forth to meet his foes; + And he taketh the reins of Greyfell, nor yet will back him there, + But afoot through the cold slaked ashes of yester-eve doth fare, + With his eyes cast down to the earth; till he heareth the wind, and a cry, + And raiseth a face brow-knitted and beholdeth men anigh, + And beholdeth Hogni the King set grey on his coal-black steed, + And beholdeth the image of Sigurd, the King in the golden weed: + Then he stayeth and stareth astonished and setteth his hand to his sword; + Till Hogni cries from his saddle, and his word is a kindly word: + + "Hail, brother, the King of the people! hail, helper of my kin! + Again from the death and the trouble great gifts hast thou set thee to win + For thy friends and the Niblung children, and hast crowned thine earthly + fame, + And increased thine exceeding glory and the sound of thy loved name." + + Nought Sigurd spake in answer but looked straight forth with a frown, + And stretched out his hand to Gunnar, as one that claimeth his own. + Then no word speaketh Gunnar, but taketh his hand in his hand, + And they look in the eyes of each other, and a while in the desert they + stand + Till the might of Grimhild prevaileth, and the twain are as yester-morn; + But sad was the golden Sigurd, though his eyes knew nought of scorn; + And he spake: + "It is finished, O Gunnar! and I will that our brotherhood + May endure through the good and the evil as it sprang in the days of the + good: + But I bid thee look to the ending, that the deed I did yest'reve + Bear nought for me to repent of, for thine heart of hearts to grieve. + Thou art troth-plight, O King of the Niblungs, to Brynhild Queen of the + earth, + She hath sworn thine heart to cherish and increase thy worth with her worth: + She shall come to the house of Gunnar ere ten days are past and o'er; + And thenceforth the life of Brynhild shall part from thy life no more, + Till the doom of our kind shall speed you, and Odin and Freyia shall call, + And ye bide the Day of the Battle, and the uttermost changing of all." + + The praise and thanks they gave him! the words of love they spake! + The tale that the world should hear of, deeds done for Sigurd's sake! + They were lovely might you hear them: but they lack; for in very deed + Their sound was clean forgotten in the day of Sigurd's need. + + * * * * * + + So that night in the hall of the ancient they hold high-tide again, + And the Gods on the Southland hangings smile out full fair and fain, + And the song goes up of Sigurd, and the praise of his fame fulfilled, + But his speech in the dead sleep lieth, and the words of his wisdom are + chilled: + And men say, the King is careful, for he thinks of the people's weal, + And his heart is afraid for our trouble, lest the Gods our joyance steal. + + But that night, when the feast was over, to Gudrun Sigurd came, + And she noted the ring on his finger, and she knew it was nowise the same + As the ring he was wont to carry; so she bade him tell thereof: + Then he turned unto her kindly, and his words were words of love; + Nor his life nor his death he heeded, but told her last night's tale: + Yea, he drew forth the sword for his slaying, and whetted the edges of bale; + For he took that Gold of Andvari, that Curse of the uttermost land, + And he spake as a king that loveth, and set it on her hand; + But her heart was exceeding joyous, as he kissed her sweet and soft, + And bade her bear it for ever, that she might remember him oft + When his hand from the world was departed and he sat in Odin's home. + + +_How Brynhild was wedded to Gunnar the Niblung._ + +So ten days wore over, and on the morrow-morn the folk were all astir +in the Niblung house, till the watchers on the towers cried to them +tidings of a goodly company drawing nigh upon the road. Then the +Niblungs got them to horse in glittering-gay raiment and went forth to +meet the people of Brynhild. + +First rode bands of maidens arrayed in fine linen and blue-broidered +cloaks, and after them came a golden wain with horses of snowy white and +bench-cloths of blue, and therein sat Brynhild alone, clad in swan-white +raiment and crowned with gold. Then they hailed her sweet and goodly, and +so she entered the darksome gate-way and came within the Niblung Burg. + + So fair in the sun of the forecourt doth Brynhild's wain shine bright, + And the huge hall riseth before her, and the ernes cry out from its height, + And there by the door of the Niblungs she sees huge warriors stand, + Dark-clad, by the shoulders greater than the best of any land, + And she knoweth the chiefs of the Niblungs, the dreaded dukes of war: + But one in cloudy raiment stands a very midst the door, + And ruddy and bright is his visage, and his black locks wave in the wind, + And she knoweth the King of the Niblungs and the man she came to find: + Then nought she lingered nor loitered, but stepped to the earth adown + With right-hand reached to the War-God, the wearer of the crown; + And she said: + "I behold thee, Gunnar, the King of War that rode + Through the waves of the Flickering Fire to the door of mine abode, + + * * * * * + + "And for this I needs must deem thee the best of all men born, + The highest-hearted, the greatest, the staunchest of thy love: + And that such the world yet holdeth, my heart is fain thereof: + And for thee I deem was I fashioned, and for thee the oath I swore + In the days of my glory and wisdom, ere the days of youth were o'er. + + * * * * * + + "May the fire ne'er stay thy glory, nor the ocean-flood thy fame! + Through ages of all ages may the wide world praise thy name! + Yea, oft may the word be spoken when low we lie at rest; + 'It befell in the days of Gunnar, the happiest and the best!' + All this may the high Gods give thee, and thereto a gift I give, + The body of Queen Brynhild so long as both we live." + + With unmoved face, unfaltering, the blessing-words she said, + But the joy sprang up in Gunnar and increased his goodlihead, + And he cast his arms about her and kissed her on the mouth, + And he said: + "The gift is greater than all treasure of the south; + As glad as my heart this moment, so glad may be thy life, + And the world be never weary of the joy of Gunnar's wife!" + + She spake no word, and smiled not, but she held his hand henceforth. + And he said; "Now take the greetings of my men, the most of worth." + + Then she turned her face to the war-dukes, and hearkened to their praise, + And she spake in few words sweetly, and blessed their coming days. + Then again spake Gunnar and said: "Lo, Hogni my brother is this; + But Guttorm is far on the East-seas, and seeketh the warrior's bliss; + A third there is of my brethren, and my house holds none so great; + In the hall by the side of my sister thy face doth he await." + +Then Brynhild gave fair greeting to Hogni, but anon she turned and +questioned Gunnar of his words concerning that brother who awaited her +in the hall. "I deemed the sons of Giuki had been but three," said +Brynhild. "This fourth, this hall-abider the mighty,--is he akin to +thee?" + + And Gunnar answered: + "He is nought of our blood, + But the Gods have sent him to usward to work us measureless good: + It is even Sigurd the Volsung, the best man ever born, + The man that the Gods withstand not, my friend, and my brother sworn." + + She heard the name, and she changed not, but her feet went forth as he led, + And under the cloudy roof-tree Queen Brynhild bowed her head. + Then, were there a man so ancient as had lived beyond his peers + On the earth, that beareth all things, a twice-told tale of years, + He had heard no sound so mighty as the shout that shook the wall + When Brynhild's feet unhearkened first trod the Niblung hall. + No whit the clamour stirred her; but her godlike eyes she raised + And betwixt the hedge of the earl-folk on the golden high-seat gazed, + And the man that sat by Gudrun: but e'en as the rainless cloud + Ere the first of the tempest ariseth the latter sun doth shroud, + And men look round and shudder, so Grimhild came between + The silent golden Sigurd and the eyes of the mighty Queen, + And again heard Brynhild greeting, and again she spake and said: + + "O Mother of the Niblungs, such hap be on thine head, + As thy love for me, the stranger, was past the pain of words! + Mayst thou see thy son's sons glorious in the meeting of the swords! + Mayst thou sleep and doubt thee nothing of the fortunes of thy race! + Mayst thou hear folk call yon high-seat the earth's most happy place!" + + Then the Wise-wife hushed before her, and a little fell aside, + And nought from the eyes of Brynhild the high-seat now did hide; + And the face so long desired, unchanged from time agone, + In the house of the Cloudy People from the Niblung high-seat shone: + She stood with her hand in Gunnar's, and all about and around + Were the unfamiliar faces, and the folk that day had found; + But her heart ran back through the years, and yet her lips did move + With the words she spake on Hindfell, when they plighted troth of love. + + Lo, Sigurd fair on the high-seat by the white-armed Gudrun's side, + In the midst of the Cloudy People, in the dwelling of their pride! + His face is exceeding glorious and awful to behold; + For of all his sorrow he knoweth and his hope smit dead and cold: + The will of the Norns is accomplished, and, lo, they wend on their ways, + And leave the mighty Sigurd to deal with the latter days: + The Gods look down from heaven, and the lonely King they see, + And sorrow over his sorrow, and rejoice in his majesty. + For the will of the Norns is accomplished, and outworn is Grimhild's spell, + And nought now shall blind or help him, and the tale shall be to tell: + He hath seen the face of Brynhild, and he knows why she hath come, + And that his is the hand that hath drawn her to the Cloudy People's home: + He knows of the net of the days, and the deeds that the Gods have bid, + And no whit of the sorrow that shall be from his wakened soul is hid: + And his glory his heart restraineth, and restraineth the hand of the strong + From the hope of the fools of desire and the wrong that amendeth wrong. + + * * * * * + + And Brynhild's face drew near him with eyes grown stern and strange. + + * * * * * + + Now she stands on the floor of the high-seat, and for e'en so little a space + As men may note delaying, she looketh on Sigurd's face, + Ere she saith: + "I have greeted many in the Niblungs' house today, + And for thee is the last of my greetings ere the feast shall wear away: + Hail, Sigurd, son of the Volsungs! hail, lord of Odin's storm! + Hail, rider of the wasteland and slayer of the Worm! + If aught thy soul shall desire while yet thou livest on earth, + I pray that thou mayst win it, nor forget its might and worth." + + All grief, sharp scorn, sore longing, stark death in her voice he knew, + But gone forth is the doom of the Norns, and what shall he answer thereto, + While the death that amendeth lingers? and they twain shall dwell for awhile + In the Niblung house together by the hearth that forged the guile. + + * * * * * + + So he spake as a King of the people in whom all fear is dead, + And his anguish no man noted, as the greeting-words he said: + "Hail, fairest of all things fashioned! hail, thou desire of eyes! + Hail, chooser of the mightiest, and teacher of the wise! + Hail, wife of my brother Gunnar! in might may thy days endure, + And in peace without a trouble that the world's weal may be sure!" + + * * * * * + + But the song sprang up in the hall, and the eagles cried from above + And forth to the freshness of May went the joyance of the feast: + And Sigurd sat with the Niblungs, and gave ear to most and to least. + And showed no sign to the people of the grief that on him lay; + Nor seemeth he worser to any than he was on the yesterday. + + +_Of the Contention betwixt the Queens._ + +So now must Sigurd and Brynhild abide together in the Burg of the +Niblungs, yet each must bear the burden of sorrow alone. Brynhild held +close converse with Gudrun, and behaved humbly towards her lest strife +should arise between them. But Gudrun, filled with pride that she was +the wife of so great a man as Sigurd, deemed it a little matter that +all others should give her honour, and knowing how Sigurd had ridden +the fire, she cherished great scorn of Gunnar and Brynhild in her +heart, and her pride waxed daily greater. + +Of the heart-wise Hogni men tell how he grew wiser day by day and more +learned in the craft of his mother Grimhild. + +As for Gunnar, he lived with Brynhild in great honour and praise from +all men, but the thought of how Sigurd had ridden the fire in his +semblance lay heavy upon him. He brooded thereon in bitterness and +envy, and the lie shadowed his life-days so that he had but small joy +in his wife. + +And Grimhild, marking his heavy mood, wrought upon him with cunning +words and he gave ear to her. For ever she spake of kings' supplanters +who bear away the praise from their lords after great deeds are done, +and often her talk was of the mighty power that he holdeth who knoweth +the shame of a king. So Gunnar hearkened and ill thoughts grew within +him. + + But fair-faced, calm as a God who hath none to call his foes, + Betwixt the Kings and the people the golden Sigurd goes; + No knowledge of man he lacketh, and the lore he gained of old + From the ancient heart of the Serpent and the Wallower on the Gold + Springs fresh in the soul of Sigurd; the heart of Hogni he sees, + And the heart of his brother Gunnar, and he grieveth sore for these. + + * * * * * + + It was most in these latter days that his fame went far abroad, + The helper, the overcomer, the righteous sundering sword; + The loveliest King of the King-folk, the man of sweetest speech, + Whose ear is dull to no man that his helping shall beseech; + The eye-bright seer of all things, that wasteth every wrong, + The straightener of the crooked, the hammer of the strong: + Lo, such was the Son of Sigmund in the days whereof I tell, + The dread of the doom and the battle; and all children loved him well. + +Now Gudrun's scorn of Brynhild waxed greater as she thought on the +knowledge that she held, and it needed but a little that she should +speak out the whole tale. + +Such was her mind when it befell her to go with Brynhild to bathe in +the Niblung river. There it chanced that they fell to talk of their +husbands, and Gudrun named Sigurd the best of the world. Thereat +Brynhild, stung by her love for Sigurd and the memory of his broken +troth,--for so she deemed it,--cried out, saying: "Thy lord is but +Gunnar's serving man to do his bidding, but my mate is the King of +King-folk, who rode the Wavering Fire and hath dared very death to +win me." + +Then Gudrun held out her hand and a golden gleam shone on her finger, +at the sight whereof Brynhild waxed wan as a dead woman. "Lo," said +Gudrun, "I had Andvari's ring of Sigurd, and indeed thou sayest truly, +that he did Gunnar's bidding, for he took the King's semblance and hid +his own shape in Gunnar's. Thus he wooed the bride for Gunnar and for +Gunnar rode the fire, and now by this token mayest thou know whether +thy husband is truly the best of Kings." And Brynhild spake no word in +answer, but clad herself in haste and fled from the river, and Gudrun +followed her in triumph of heart. + +Yet as the day wore on she repented of her words and feared the deeds +that Brynhild might do, and at even she sought her alone and craved +pardon. Then spake Brynhild the Queen: "I repent me of my bitter words +this day, yet one thing I beseech thee,--do thou say that thou hadst +the ring of Gunnar and not of Sigurd, lest I be shamed before all +men." "What?" said Gudrun; "hast thou heard that the wives of the +Niblungs lie? Nay, Sigurd it was who set this ring on my finger and +therewith he told me the shame of my brother Gunnar,--how his glory +was turned to a scoff." + +And Brynhild seeing that the tale of the deceiving wrought against her +might not be hidden, lifted her voice and cursed the house of the +Niblungs wherein she had suffered such woe. So the queens parted in +great wrath and bitterness. + + +_Of the exceeding great grief and mourning of Brynhild._ + +Now on the morrow it was known that Brynhild was sick, nor would she +reveal the cause to any. Then Gunnar besought her to be comforted and +to show what ailed her, but for a long while he might win no word in +answer. Thereat the evil thoughts that Grimhild had sown in his heart +grew strong, and he cried in bitter anger: "Lo, Brynhild, I deem thou +art sick for love of my foe, the supplanter of Kings, he who hath +shone like a serpent this long while past amidst the honour of our +kin." + +Then at last was Brynhild moved to look on him, and she besought him, +saying: "Swear to me, Gunnar, that I may live, and say that thou +gavest Andvari's ring to Gudrun--thou, and not thy captain of war." +Thereby Gunnar understood that all his falsehood was known to her, so +that never again might they two have any joy together. He had no +answering word, but turned from her and departed, for bitter shame was +come on him and hatred of Sigurd burnt in his soul like fire. + +Then as evening drew on, boding of evil fell on Gudrun, and she +sought her brothers that they might plead with Brynhild to pardon her +and forget her bitter taunts. + +But Gunnar she found seated alone arrayed in his war-gear and on his +knees lay his sword, neither would he hear any word of further +pleading with Brynhild. + +Then sought she Hogni, and behold, he was in the like guise, and sat +as one that waits for a foe. So she sped to Sigurd, but chill fear +fell on her beholding him, for he was dight in the Helm of Aweing and +his golden hauberk, and the Wrath lay on his knees, neither would he +then speak to Brynhild. + +So that heavy night passed away and there was but little sleep in the +abode of the Niblungs. And with the dawn Sigurd arose and sought +Brynhild's chamber where she lay as one dead. Like a pillar of light +he stood in the sunshine and the Wrath rattled by his side. And +Brynhild looked on him and said: "Art thou come to behold me? +Thou--the mightiest and the worst of my betrayers." Then for very +grief the breast of Sigurd heaved so that the rings of his byrny burst +asunder and he cried: "O live, Brynhild beloved! For hereafter shalt +thou know of the snare and the lie that entrapped us and the +measureless grief of my soul." "It is o'erlate," said Brynhild, "for I +may live no longer and the gods have forgotten the earth." And in such +despair must he leave her. + + +_Of the slaying of Sigurd the Volsung._ + +Then at high noon Brynhild sent for Gunnar and sought to whet him to +the slaying of Sigurd, for to such hatred was her love turned. + + "I look upon thee," said Brynhild, "I know thy race and thy name, + Yet meseems the deed thou sparest, to amend thine evil and shame." + + "Nought, nought," he said, "may amend it, save the hungry eyeless sword, + And the war without hope or honour, and the strife without reward." + + "Thou hast spoken the word," said Brynhild, "if the word is enough, it is + well. + Let us eat and drink and be merry, that all men of our words may tell!" + + "O all-wise woman," said Gunnar, "what deed lieth under the tongue? + What day for the dearth of the people, when the seed of thy sowing hath + sprung?" + + She said: "Our garment is Shame, and nought the web shall rend, + Save the day without repentance, and the deed that nought may amend." + + "Speak, mighty of women," said Gunnar, "and cry out the name and the deed + That the ends of the Earth may hearken, and the Niblungs' grievous Need." + "To slay," she said, "is the deed, to slay a King ere the morn, + And the name is Sigurd the Volsung, my love and thy brother sworn." + + She turned and departed from him, and he knew not whither she went; + But he took his sword from the girdle and the peace-strings round it rent, + And into the house he gat him, and the sunlit fair abode, + But his heart in the mid-mirk waded, as through the halls he strode, + Till he came to a chamber apart; and Grimhild his mother was there, + And there was his brother Hogni in the cloudy Niblung gear: + Him-seemed there was silence between them as of them that have spoken, and + wait + Till the words of their mouths be accomplished by slow unholpen Fate: + But they turned to the door, and beheld him, and he took his sheathed sword + And cast it adown betwixt them, and it clashed half bare on the board, + And Grimhild spake as it clattered: "For whom are the peace-strings rent? + For whom is the blood-point whetted and the edge of thine intent?" + He said: "For the heart of Sigurd; and thus all is rent away + Betwixt this word and his slaying, save a little hour of day." + + * * * * * + + Again spake Grimhild the wise-wife: "Where then is Guttorm the brave? + For he blent not his blood with the Volsung's, nor his oath to Sigurd gave, + Nor called on Earth to witness, nor went beneath the yoke; + And now is he Sigurd's foeman; and who may curse his stroke?" + + Then Hogni laughed and answered: "His feet on the threshold stand: + Forged is thy sword, O Mother, and its hilts are come to hand. + + * * * * * + + "Ho, Guttorm, enter, and hearken to the counsel of the wise!" + Then in through the door strode Guttorm fair-clad in hunter's guise, + With no steel save his wood-knife girded; but his war-fain eyes stared wild, + As he spake: "What words are ye hiding from the youngest Niblung child? + What work is to win, my brethren, that ye sit in warrior's weed, + And tell me nought of the glory, and cover up the deed?" + + Then uprose Grimhild the wise-wife, and took the cup again; + Night-long had she brewed that witch-drink and laboured not in vain. + For therein was the creeping venom, and hearts of things that prey + On the hidden lives of ocean, and never look on day; + And the heart of the ravening wood-wolf and the hunger-blinded beast + And the spent slaked heart of the wild-fire the guileful cup increased: + But huge words of ancient evil about its rim were scored, + The curse and the eyeless craving of the first that fashioned sword. + + So the cup in her hand was gleaming, as she turned unto Guttorm and spake: + "Be merry, King of the War-fain! we hold counsel for thy sake: + The work is a God's son's slaying, and thine is the hand that shall smite, + That thy name may be set in, glory and thy deeds live on in light." + + Forth flashed the flame from his eyen, and he cried: "Where then is the foe, + This dread of mine house and my brethren, that my hand may lay him alow?" + + "Drink, son," she said, "and be merry! and I shall tell his name, + Whose death shall crown thy life-days, and increase thy fame with his fame." + + He drinketh and craveth for battle, and his hand for a sword doth seek, + And he looketh about on his brethren, but his lips no word may speak; + They speak the name, and he hears not, and again he drinks of the cup + And knows not friend nor kindred, and the wrath in his heart wells up, + That no God may bear unmingled, and he cries a wordless cry, + As the last of the day is departing and the dusk time drawing anigh. + + Then Grimhild goes from the chamber, and bringeth his harness of war, + And therewith they array his body, and he drinketh the cup once more, + And his heart is set on the murder, and now may he understand + What soul is dight for the slaying, and what quarry is for his hand. + For again they tell him of Sigurd, and the man he remembereth, + And praiseth his mighty name and his deeds that laughed on death. + + Now dusk and dark draw over, and through the glimmering house + They go to the place of the Niblungs, the high hall and glorious; + For hard by is the chamber of Sigurd: there dight in their harness of war + In their thrones sit Gunnar and Hogni, but Guttorm stands on the floor + With his blue blade naked before them: the torches flare from the wall + And the woven God-folk waver, but the hush is deep in the hall, + And those Niblung faces change not, though the slow moon slips from her + height + And earth is acold ere dawning, and new winds shake the night. + + Now it was in the earliest dawn-dusk that Guttorm stirred in his place, + And the mail-rings tinkled upon him, as he turned his helm-hid face, + And went forth from the hall and the high-seat; but the Kings sat still in + their pride + And hearkened the clash of his going and heeded how it died. + + Slow, all alone goeth Guttorm to Sigurd's chamber door, + And all is open before him, and the white moon lies on the floor + And the bed where Sigurd lieth with Gudrun on his breast, + And light comes her breath from her bosom in the joy of infinite rest. + Then Guttorm stands on the threshold, and his heart of the murder is fain, + And he thinks of the deeds of Sigurd, and praiseth his greatness and gain; + Bright blue is his blade in the moonlight--but lo, how Sigurd lies, + As the carven dead that die not, with fair wide-open eyes; + And their glory gleameth on Guttorm, and the hate in his heart is chilled, + And he shrinketh aback from the threshold and knoweth not what he willed. + +Thereon he turned him again to the hall, and the Kings beheld his +unstained sword in the torch-light, but they cast him never a word. +Then shame and wrath urged him and he wended the second time to +Sigurd's chamber, but yet again the dread eyes of the Volsung were +open and he fled from their light to his biding brethren. + + Now dieth moon and candle, and though the day be nigh + The roof of the hall fair-builded seems far aloof as the sky, + But a glimmer grows on the pavement and the ernes on the roof-ridge stir: + Then the brethren hist and hearken, for a sound of feet they hear, + And into the hall of the Niblungs a white thing cometh apace: + But the sword of Guttorm upriseth, and he wendeth from his place, + And the clash of steel goes with him; yet loud as it may sound + Still more they hear those footsteps light-falling on the ground, + And the hearts of the Niblungs waver, and their pride is smitten acold, + For they look on that latest comer, and Brynhild they behold: + But she sits by their side in silence, and heeds them nothing more + Than the grey soft-footed morning heeds yester-even's war. + + But Guttorm clashed in the cloisters and through the silence strode + And scarce on the threshold of Sigurd a little while abode; + There the moon from the floor hath departed and heaven without is grey, + And afar in the eastern quarter faint glimmer streaks of day. + Close over the head of Sigurd the Wrath gleams wan and bare, + And the Niblung woman stirreth, and her brow is knit with fear; + But the King's closed eyes are hidden, loose lie his empty hands, + There is nought 'twixt the sword of the slayer and the Wonder of all Lands. + Then Guttorm laughed in his war-rage, and his sword leapt up on high, + As he sprang to the bed from the threshold and cried a wordless cry, + And with all the might of the Niblungs through Sigurd's body thrust, + And turned and fled from the chamber, and fell amid the dust, + Within the door and without it, the slayer slain by the slain; + For the cast of the sword of Sigurd had smitten his body atwain + While yet his cry of onset through the echoing chambers went. + + Woe's me! how the house of the Niblungs by another cry was rent, + The wakening wail of Gudrun, as she shrank in the river of blood + From the breast of the mighty Sigurd: he heard it and understood, + And rose up on the sword of Guttorm, and turned from the country of death, + And spake words of loving-kindness as he strove for life and breath: + + "Wail not, O child of the Niblungs! I am smitten, but thou shall live, + In remembrance of our glory, mid the gifts the Gods shall give!" + + She stayed her cry to hearken, and her heart well nigh stood still: + But he spake: "Mourn not, O Gudrun, this stroke is the last of ill; + Fear leaveth the House of the Niblungs on this breaking of the morn; + Mayst thou live, O woman beloved, unforsaken, unforlorn!" + + Then he sank aback on the sword, and down to his lips she bent + If some sound therefrom she might hearken; for his breath was well-nigh + spent: + "It is Brynhild's deed," he murmured, "and the woman that loves me well; + Nought now is left to repent of, and the tale abides to tell. + I have done many deeds in my life-days, and all these, and my love, they lie + In the hollow hand of Odin till the day of the world go by. + I have done and I may not undo, I have given and I take not again: + Art thou other than I, Allfather, wilt thou gather my glory in vain?" + + There was silence then in the chamber, as the dawn spread wide and grey, + And hushed was the hall of the Niblungs at the entering-in of day. + Long Gudrun hung o'er the Volsung and waited the coming word; + Then she stretched out her hand to Sigurd and touched her love and her lord, + And the broad day fell on his visage, and she knew she was there alone, + And her heart was wrung with anguish and she uttered a weary moan: + Then Brynhild laughed in the hall, and the first of men's voices was that + Since when on yester-even the kings in the high-seat had sat. + + * * * * * + + In the house rose rumour and stir, and men stood up in the morn, + And their hearts with doubt were shaken, as if with the Uttermost Horn: + The cry and the calling spread, and shields clashed down from the wall, + And swords in the chamber glittered, and men ran apace to the hall. + Nor knew what man to question, nor who had tidings to give, + Nor what were the days thenceforward wherein the folk should live. + But ever the word is amongst them that Sigurd the Volsung is slain, + And the spears in the hall were tossing as the rye in the windy plain. + But they look aloft to the high-seat and they see the gleam of the gold: + And Gunnar the King of battle, and Hogni wise and cold, + And Brynhild the wonder of women; and her face is deadly pale, + And the Kings are clad in their war-gear, and bared are the edges of bale. + Then cold fear falleth upon them, but the noise and the clamour abate, + And they look on the war-wise Gunnar and awhile for his word they wait; + But e'en as he riseth above them, doth a shriek through the tumult ring; + + "Awake, O House of the Niblungs, for slain is Sigurd the King!" + + Then nothing faltered Gunnar, but he stood o'er the Niblung folk, + And over the hall woe-stricken the words of pride he spoke: + + "Mourn now, O Niblung people, for gone is Sigurd our guest, + And Guttorm the King is departed, and this is our day of unrest; + But all this of the Norns was fore-ordered, and herein is Odin's hand; + Cast down are the mighty of men-folk, but the Niblung house shall stand: + Mourn then today and tomorrow, but the third day waken and live, + For the Gods died not this morning, and great gifts they have to give." + + He spake and awhile was silence, and then did the cry outbreak, + And many there were of the Earl-folk that wept for Sigurd's sake; + And they wept for their little children, and they wept for those unborn, + Who should know the earth without him and the world of his worth forlorn. + + * * * * * + + So rent is the joy of the Niblungs; and their simple days and fain + From that ancient house are departed, and who shall buy them again? + For he, the redeemer, the helper, the crown of all their worth, + They looked upon him and wondered, they loved, and they thrust him forth. + + +_Of the mighty Grief of Gudrun over Sigurd dead._ + +But as for the grief of Gudrun over Sigurd no man may tell it. Long +she lay on his body and spent herself in weeping, but at last she +arose and cursed Brynhild and Gunnar and all the Niblung house, +saying: + + "O hearken, hearken Gunnar! May the dear Gold drag thee adown, + And Greyfell's ruddy Burden, and the Treasure of renown, + And the rings that ye swore the oath on! yea, if all avengers die, + May Earth, that ye bade remember, on the blood of Sigurd cry! + Be this land as waste as the troth-plight that the lips of fools have sworn! + May it rain through this broken hall-roof, and snow on the hearth forlorn! + And may no man draw anigh it to tell of the ruin and the wrack! + Yea, may I be a mock for the idle if my feet come ever aback, + If my heart think kind of the chambers, if mine eyes shall yearn to behold + The fair-built house of my fathers, the house beloved of old!" + +And therewith Gudrun fled forever from the Burg of the Niblungs, and +none dared hinder or follow her, and none knew whither she turned for +refuge. + + +_Of the passing away of Brynhild._ + + Once more on the morrow-morning fair shineth the glorious sun, + And the Niblung children labour on a deed that shall be done. + For out in the people's meadows they raise a bale on high, + The oak and the ash together, and thereon shall the Mighty lie; + Nor gold nor steel shall be lacking, nor savour of sweet spice, + Nor cloths in the Southlands woven, nor webs of untold price; + The work grows, toil is as nothing; long blasts of the mighty horn + From the topmost tower out-wailing o'er the woeful world are borne. + + * * * * * + + But Brynhild cried to her maidens: "Now open ark and chest, + And draw forth queenly raiment of the loveliest and the best, + Red rings that the Dwarf-lords fashioned, fair cloths that queens have + sewed, + To array the bride for the mighty, and the traveller for the road." + + They wept as they wrought her bidding and did on her goodliest gear; + But she laughed mid the dainty linen, and the gold-rings fashioned fair: + She arose from the bed of the Niblungs, and her face no more was wan; + As a star in the dawn-tide heavens, mid the dusky house she shone: + And they that stood about her, their hearts were raised aloft + Amid their fear and wonder: then she spake them kind and soft: + + "Now give me the sword, O maidens, wherewith I sheared the wind + When the Kings of Earth were gathered to know the Chooser's mind." + + All sheathed the maidens brought it, and feared the hidden blade, + But the naked blue-white edges across her knees she laid, + And spake: "The heaped-up riches, the gear my fathers left, + All dear-bought woven wonders, all rings from battle reft, + All goods of men desired, now strew them on the floor, + And so share among you, maidens, the gifts of Brynhild's store." + + * * * * * + + Then upright by the bed of the Niblungs for a moment doth she stand, + And the blade flasheth bright in the chamber, but no more they hinder her + hand + Than if a God were smiting to rend the world in two: + Then dulled are the glittering edges, and the bitter point cleaves through + The breast of the all-wise Brynhild, and her feet from the pavement fail, + And the sigh of her heart is hearkened mid the hush of the maidens' wail. + Chill, deep is the fear upon them, but they bring her aback to the bed, + And her hand is yet on the hilts, and sidelong droopeth her head. + + Then there cometh a cry from withoutward, and Gunnar's hurrying feet + Are swift on the kingly threshold, and Brynhild's blood they meet. + Low down o'er the bed he hangeth and hearkeneth for her word, + And her heavy lids are opened to look on the Niblung lord, + And she saith: + "I pray thee a prayer, the last word in the world I speak, + That ye bear me forth to Sigurd, and the hand my hand would seek; + The bale for the dead is builded, it is wrought full wide on the plain, + It is raised for Earth's best Helper, and thereon is room for twain: + Ye have hung the shields about it, and the Southland hangings spread, + There lay me adown by Sigurd and my head beside his head." + + * * * * * + + Then they took the body of Brynhild in the raiment that she wore, + And out through the gate of the Niblungs the holy corpse they bore, + And thence forth to the mead of the people, and the high-built shielded + bale; + Then afresh in the open meadows breaks forth the women's wail + When they see the bed of Sigurd and the glittering of his gear; + And fresh is the wail of the people as Brynhild draweth anear, + And the tidings go before her that for twain the bale is built, + That for twain is the oak-wood shielded and the pleasant odours spilt. + + There is peace on the bale of Sigurd, and the Gods look down from on high, + And they see the lids of the Volsung close shut against the sky, + As he lies with his shield beside him in the Hauberk all of gold, + That has not its like in the heavens, nor has earth of its fellow told; + And forth from the Helm of Aweing are the sunbeams flashing wide, + And the sheathed Wrath of Sigurd lies still by his mighty side. + Then cometh an elder of days, a man of the ancient times, + Who is long past sorrow and joy, and the steep of the bale he climbs; + And he kneeleth down by Sigurd, and bareth the Wrath to the sun + That the beams are gathered about it, and from hilt to blood-point run, + And wide o'er the plain of the Niblungs doth the Light of the Branstock + glare, + Till the wondering mountain-shepherds on that star of noontide stare, + And fear for many an evil; but the ancient man stands still + With the war-flame on his shoulder, nor thinks of good or of ill, + Till the feet of Brynhild's bearers on the topmost bale are laid, + And her bed is dight by Sigurd's; then he sinks the pale white blade + And lays it 'twixt the sleepers, and leaves them there alone-- + He, the last that shall ever behold them,--and his days are well nigh done. + + Then is silence over the plain; in the noon shine the torches pale + As the best of the Niblung Earl-folk bear fire to the builded bale: + Then a wind in the west ariseth, and the white flames leap on high, + And with one voice crieth the people a great and mighty cry, + And men cast up hands to the Heavens, and pray without a word, + As they that have seen God's visage, and the voice of the Father have heard. + + They are gone--the lovely, the mighty, the hope of the ancient Earth: + It shall labour and bear the burden as before that day of their birth. + + * * * * * + + Ye have heard of Sigurd aforetime, how the foes of God he slew; + How forth from the darksome desert the Gold of the Waters he drew; + How he wakened Love on the Mountain, and wakened Brynhild the Bright, + And dwelt upon Earth for a season and shone in all men's sight. + Ye have heard of the Cloudy People, and the dimming of the day, + And the latter world's confusion, and Sigurd gone away. + + +THE END + + + + +GLOSSARY + +ABBREVIATIONS:--n., noun; n., verb; cf., compare; e.g., for +example; p.t., past tense; p.p. past participle. + + +_Abasement_, casting down, defeat. + +_Acre-biders_, peaceful workers in the fields as distinguished from +warriors who left their homes to go to war. + +_Amber_, a yellow substance found on the shores of the Baltic Sea and +used from very early days as an ornament. The "southern men," or +traders from the shores of the Mediterranean, came north to buy it. + +_Ark_, a box for treasures. + +_Atwain_, in two pieces, e.g. "The sword ... had smitten his body +atwain." + +_Avail_, n. power; n. to have power, to succeed. + + +_Bale_, disaster, destruction, death; a great pile of wood for +burning. + +_Balks_, pieces of timber used to make a bridge. + +_Bane_, destruction or a cause of destruction; often used to mean an +enemy or slayer, e.g. Sigurd's sword is called "Fafnir's bane," and +in the old saga Sigurd himself had the title Fafnir's-Bane. + +_Barter_, to give in exchange for something else. + +_Bast_, wrappings made of the soft inner bark of trees. + +_Bath of the swan_, the sea. + +_Battle-acre_, field of battle. + +_Beaker_, a drinking cup. + +_Befall_, happen. + +_Begrudge_, to feel unwillingness in giving, to be displeased at +another's success. Loki is called the World's Begrudger, because he +liked to cause failure and unhappiness, and hated success in others. + +_Bench-cloths_, coverings for seats. + +_Bent_, a piece of high ground. + +_Betide_, p.t. betided; p.p. betid; to happen, come to pass, +e.g. "What hath betid?" + +_Bickering_, stormy, struggling. + +_Bide_ or _abide_, p.t. abode; p.p. abode; to remain, dwell + +_Bight_, a bend or curve in a coast or river bank. + +_Bill_, an axe with a long handle. + +_Blazoning_, painting, especially the painting of coats of arms or of +records of valiant deeds. + +_Boar of Son_. It was customary when making any solemn vows to lay the +hand or sword on a sacred boar called the Boar of Son or the Boar of +Atonement. The ceremony seems to have been also accompanied by +drinking a draught, called in this poem the Cup of Daring Promise, in +honour of one of the gods. + +_Boding_, a misgiving, a feeling that evil is to come. + +_Bole_, a tree-trunk. + +_Bows the acre's face_, bends the growing grain in a harvest-field. + +_Brand_, a sword. + +_Bucklers_, shields. + +_Burg_, a town, a fortress. + +_Byrny_, a coat of armour for back and breast, made of linked iron +rings. + + +_Carles_, peasants; a contemptuous word used for a man who is not a +warrior. + +_Change his life_, die and pass from the life on earth to that in +Valhalla or Niflheim. + +_Chooser_. One of the titles of Brynhild, as she was one of the +Valkyries or maidens whom Odin sent into battles to single out for +death the men he had chosen to be slain. Victory-Wafter is another +title of Brynhild, since she brought victory to those for whom it was +appointed and death to others. + +_Churl_, a grudging, ungracious man. + +_Clave_, p.p. of cleave, to pierce, hew, cut through. + +_Cloisters_, a roofed passage running round a court-yard and open on +the side towards the court-yard. + +_Close_, a field. + +_Cloud-wreath_, the cloud that often gathers about the top of a high +mountain. + +_Compass_, to contrive, accomplish. + +_Constrain_, to force, to control and guide. + +_Coping_, the topmost row of bricks in a wall, the top of a wall. + +_Craft_, skill, knowledge of some particular art, a trade or +occupation, e.g. song-craft. + +_Cull_, to choose, pick out. + +_Cup of Daring Promise_, see _Boar of Son_. + + +_Dais_, a raised part of the floor at one end of a banquet hall, where +the principal persons sat. + +_Dastard_, a coward. + +_Dawn-dusk_, the twilight at dawn before the sun is fully risen. + +_Day of the Battle_, Ragnarok, when the spirits of dead warriors +should join in the battle of the gods. "_Day of Doom_" has the same +meaning. + +_Dearth_, want, famine, scarcity. + +_Deft_, skilful, e.g. deft in every cunning. + +_Dight_, made ready, prepared, e.g. war-dight, prepared for war. + +_Dole_, n. a gift dealt out as charity; n. to measure out in small +portions, e.g. I doled out wisdom to thee. + +_Doom_, n. a sentence, verdict, e.g. give righteous doom; n. to +condemn, to sentence. _Doom-ring_, a circle of stones or hazel poles +where kings heard complaints from their people and gave judgment. + +_Do on_, put on; often shortened into "don"; cf. doff, which is +shortened from do off. + +_Door-wards_, porters, door-keepers. + +_Dragons_, the war-ships of the northern nations, which often had +their prows carved into a dragon's head. + +_Dwindle_, to grow less. + + +_Edges of bale_, the sword edges, which bring bale or destruction. + +_Egg_, to urge on, to persuade to some deed, e.g. "Too much thou +eggest me." + +_Eld_, old age. + +_Endlong_, length-ways, along. _Endlong_ and _athwart_, along and +across. + +_Erewhile_, some time ago, formerly. + +_Erne_, an eagle. + +_Eyen_, eyes; old plural of eye. + + +_Fain_, glad, willing, full of desire. Sometimes used as an adverb +meaning "willingly," e.g. "They fain would go aland." + +_Fair-speech-masters_, men skilled in poetry. There were professional +singers and poets called skalds among the northern people, and the +power to make verses and to sing was cultivated among the mass of the +people and was fairly common. + +_Fallow_, lying quiet, inactive, not bearing crops. The expression, +"fallow bondage," means a bondage of sleep and idleness. + +_Fare_, to travel. Sometimes when joined to adverbs it means to +prosper, e.g. to fare ill, to fare well, how does he fare? + +_Fashion_, to make, to arrange. Regin hoped to be the world's +"fashioning lord," that is, the supreme king and orderer of all +things. + +_Fell-abiding folk_, men who worked at home instead of going out to +battle. + +_Flame-blink_, the flash of light from the fire round Brynhild's home. + +_Flaw_, defect, fault, e.g. "the hauberk ... clean wrought without a +flaw;" "the ring ... that hath ... no flaw for God to mend." If used +of rain, it means a slight shower, e.g. "a flaw of summer rain," + +_Fleck_, spot, mark. + +_Foam-bow_, the small rainbow seen in the spray from a waterfall. + +_Foil_, n. defeat, failure; n. to defeat, to baffle. + +_Fold_, a place for shutting up sheep. It is often used meaning any +dwelling-place, e.g. Fafnir's abode is called "the lone destroyer's +fold." + +_Folk_, people. It is often joined with other words, e.g. man-folk, +Goth-folk. _Folk of the-war-wands forgers_, are the race of dwarfs who +had great skill in the making of weapons. + +_Fond_, used in Old English to mean "foolish," or sometimes only to +give emphasis, as in the expression "thy fondest need," meaning "thy +greatest need." + +_Foot-hills_, the lower hills round the base of a very high mountain. + +_Fore-ordained_, settled by the will of the gods in early times. + +_Foster_, to rear, to bring up a child, to care for, to shelter, +e.g. "Now would I foster Sigurd;" "the house that fostered me." + +_Franklin_, a well-to-do farmer, one who is not merely a hired +servant. + +_Freyia_, the wife of Odin and chief of the goddesses. + + +_Gainsay_, to resist, to refuse a request. + +_Gaping Gap_, a name given to the state of things that existed before +the world was made. There was supposed to have been an empty space +till Odin created the world of gods and men. + +_Garner_, to gather up, to store up; sometimes, to reap. + +_Garth_, an enclosure, a place from which things may be garnered, +e.g. "within the garth that it (the wall) girdeth." + +_Gear_, a word used with many meanings, as, dress, arms, possessions, +anything that a person has or uses, e.g. war-gear, all a man's +armour and weapons; mail-gear, a man's armour. + +_Gird_, to tie round, to be all round, e.g. "The Wrath to his side +is girded;" "a wall doth he behold ... but within the garth that it +girdeth no work of man is set." + +_Glaive_, a sword. + +_God-home_, Asgard. + +_Gold-bestrider_, the name given to Sigurd by Giuki because he rode +with the treasure of gold upon his saddle. To bestride is to stand +over anything with one foot on each side. + +_Good-heart_, kindly strength. + +_Goodlihead_, a word of praise which is generally used to mean bodily +beauty, but sometimes to mean beauty of character. + +_Grovel_, to crouch low on the ground. + +_Guest-fain_, hospitable, ready to welcome guests. + +_Guile_, cunning, cleverness used for an evil purpose. + +_Guise_, appearance, kind, dress, e.g. "such was the guise of his +raiment;" "fair-clad in hunter's guise." + + +_Halers of the hawsers_, pullers of the ropes, _i.e._ seamen. + +_Hallow_, to set apart for a solemn purpose, to make holy, e.g. I +hallow me to Odin for a leader of his host. + +_Hangings_, tapestry, woven stuff on which pictures or figures of gods +and heroes were embroidered, used to decorate the walls of houses, +e.g. "The walls were strange and wondrous with noble stories told;" +"the gods on the hangings stirred." + +_Harness_, armour. + +_Hauberk_, a breast-plate. + +_Heave_, to rise and fall, sometimes merely to rise, e.g. "The doom ... +heaves up dim through the gloom." + +_High-seat_, the dais or chief seat where the master of a house and +his principal guests sat. + +_High-tide_, time of festival. + +_Hindfell_, the word means "deer-mountain," since "fell" means any +hill, and "hind" is the word we still use for a deer. + +_Hireling_, a servant. + +_Hist_, to give attention, to listen. + +_Hithermost_, nearest. + +_Hoard_, a store. Generally used of a treasure which the owner keeps +selfishly, e.g. Fafnir's wisdom is called "grudged and hoarded +wisdom," and his gold the "heavy hoard." + +_Hoenir_, one of Odin's sons; a wise and blameless god who, the others +believed, would return to reign over a new heaven and a new earth when +Ragnarok was past. + +_Holt_, a woodland. + +_Hoppled_, fettered. + +_Horse-fed_, cropped by horses. + +_Horse-herd_, keeper of horses. "Herd" means any keeper of animals, +and is generally joined with other words, e.g. shepherd, swine-herd. + +_Huddled_, twisted together in a small space. + + +_Intent_, intention, purpose. In the passage, "For whom is the +blood-point whetted and the edge of thine intent?" the meaning is, +"Against whom is thy sword sharpened, and against whom is thy purpose +so keen?" + + +_Kin_, family, relations. _Kin of the Wolf_, Loki and his children, +one of whom was a monstrous wolf which was to fight against the gods +at Ragnarok. + +_Kine_, cattle. + +_Kirtle_, a long cloak. + + +_Lack_, loss, e.g. "He knew there was ruin and lack." "The lack that +made him loth" is used to describe the ring of Andvari which he was +unwilling to give up with the rest of his treasure to Loki. n. "To +be without," or, "to be found wanting." + +_Lay_, a song. + +_Lea_, a meadow. + +_Leeches_, doctors. + +_Lief_, willing. + +_Lift_, the arch of the sky overhead, the highest part of the sky. + +_Linden_, the lime-tree. + +_Linked mail_, armour made of rings linked together. + +_Lintel_, the top of a doorway. + +_List_, to wish, to choose. + +_Litten_, lighted up; cf. red-litten, torch-litten. + +_Long-ships_, ships of war. + +_Lore_, learning, knowledge. + +_Loth_, unwilling, grieved. + + +_Mar_, to spoil, disfigure. + +_Mark_, boundary, borderland. + +_Masters of God-home_, the gods of Asgard against whom the giants and +all foul monsters were constantly at war. + +_Mattock_, a pick-axe. + +_Mead_, a meadow. + +_Mew_, a sea-gull. + +_Mid-mirk_, thick darkness. _Mirk_, darkness. + +_Midward_, prime, best days. + +_Midworld_, the earth; the home of men as distinguished from Asgard, +the home of the gods, and Niflheim, the home of the dead. + +_Minish_, to grow less. + +_Moon-wake_, the long straight path of light made by the moon on +water. + +_Murder-churls,_ fierce and suspicious men ready to slay a guest. + +_Mute_, dumb, silent. + + +_Nether_, lower. + +_Niggard_, grudging, miserly, unproductive, e.g. the Glittering +Heath is called "niggard ground." + +_Norns_, the three maidens who decided the fates of gods and men. +Their names were Urd, Verdandi and Skuld, or Past, Present, and +Future, and they were more powerful than the gods themselves, e.g. +"Gone, forth is the will of the Norns, that abideth ever the same." + + +_Odin's door_, a warrior's shield. + +_Odin's Hall_, Valhalla, to which went the souls of warriors slain in +battle. + + +_Pall_, a cloak of state; most commonly used in the expression "purple +and pall." + +_Passing_, very; used to give emphasis, e.g. "He loveth her passing +sore," where both words are simply emphatic. + +_Peace-strings_, the strings which tied a sword into its sheath when +it was not in use. + +_Peers_, equals in age and rank. + +_People's Praise_. Odin, chief of the gods. "The death of the People's +Praise" is Ragnarok, the time when Odin and all his fellow gods were +to be destroyed. + +_Purblind_, dim-sighted. The syllable "pur" is a form of the word +pure, and gives emphasis to blind. + +_Purple_, cloth dyed with a purple dye made from the murex, a +shell-fish found in the Mediterranean. The secret of making it was +known only to the "southern men" or Phoenician traders of Tyre and +Sidon. + + +_Quarry_, game, prey, the animal chased by a hunter. + +_Quell_, to stop, make to cease. + +_Quicken_, to rouse, bring to life. + + +_Ravening_, devouring, eager for prey; often used of wild animals. + +_Reck_, to notice, care about. + +_Reek_, smoke rising from a fire, or spray and mist from a waterfall, +e.g. "the reek of the falling flood;" "the heart of Fafnir ... sang +among the reek." + +_Renown_, fame, honour. + +_Rock-wall_, mountain cliff. + +_Roof-tree_, the topmost beam which forms the ridge of a roof. + +_Rue_, to regret, to find a cause of woe. + +_Rumour_, report, gossiping tale. + +_Rune_, letter. The letters used in old Icelandic and similar +languages are called runic characters. When written letters were first +known in the north of Europe they were supposed to have magic powers, +and gradually the word "rune" came to mean any spell, or even any +wisdom which was beyond the ordinary knowledge of men. + +_Ruth_, pity, regret, e.g. "Ruth arose in his heart;" "I have +hearkened not nor heeded the words of thy fear and thy ruth." + + +_Salutation_, greeting. + +_Sate_, satisfy to the full. + +_Scalds_, the poets who recited poems or stories at feasts. + +_Scoff_, an object of mockery. + +_Scored_, carved, marked by lines cut deeply into a surface. + +_Sea-beast's tooth_, the tusks of the walrus. + +_Sea-mead_, the wide surface of the sea. The word means sea-meadow. + +_Seethe_, to bubble and move like boiling water. + +_Semblance_, an appearance, outward show where there is no reality. + +_Serry_, to crowd closely together. + +_Shards_, broken fragments, e.g. "the shards of a glaive of battle." + +_Shield-burg_, a fortress built of shields. Burg means either a town, +a castle, or a fortress. + +_Shield-wall_, the defence made by fighting men holding their shields +close together as they stand at bay. + +_Shift_, n. a trick, cunning plan, e.g. "my cunning shifts;" n. +to contrive, be able, e.g. "the man whose heart and hand may shift, +To pluck it from the oak-wood." + +_Shimmer_, to gleam and change colour as the light alters. + +_Skerry_, a rocky island near the coast. + +_Slaked_, cooled, put out; used of anything that has been burning and +is now grown cold. + +_Sleight_, cunning, trickery. Loki is called "the Master of Sleight" +because of his skill in deceit. + +_Sleipnir_, Odin's horse. It was grey, had eight feet, and could carry +him over sea and land, and could also fly through the air. + +_Slot_, the track left by a wild animal. + +_Sloth_, idleness. + +_Smithy_, to do the work of a smith, forge weapons. + +_Sooth_, truth. + +_Sore_, very much. It is generally used about things which are evil or +painful, but sometimes only to give emphasis, e.g. "amber that the +southern men love sore." + +_Spear-hedge_, the bristling spears of an army in battle; cf. +battle-wood, spear-wood. + +_Spell-drenched_, stupefied or overwhelmed by magic. + +_Sphere-stream_, the space beyond the air of this world, in which the +planets or spheres move on their courses. + +_Stark_, stiff, hard, severe. + +_Staunch_, steadfast, unchanging. + +_Stead_, n. a place; it is often joined to other words, e.g. +hall-stead, a hall or the place where a hall has been, as in the +sentence, "I went to the pillared hall-stead;" n. _stead or +bestead_, to serve, to aid, e.g. "to stead me in the fight." + +_Steadfast_, unchanging, faithful, unmoved. + +_Stithy_, a blacksmith's forge. + +_Strait_, narrow, cramped. + +_Stripling_, a young man just grown up; cf. youngling. + +_Sunder_, to separate, e.g. "We wend on the sundering ways." + +_Sun-dog_, a bright spot like a faint image of the sun, seen near it +in cloudy weather. + +_Swaddling_, anything that wraps or enfolds, e.g. the coils of +Fafnir passing over Sigurd in the pit are called "the swaddling of +death." + +_Swart-haired_, dark-haired. + +_Swathe_, the long line of mown corn behind a reaper; cf. "swathes +of the sword," _i.e._ heaps of dead in battle. + + +_Targe_, a shield. + +_Tarry_, to wait, to linger, e.g. "Tarry till I say a word." + +_Thrall_, a slave, "_short-lived thralls of the gods_," mortal men, +not dwarfs or giants. + +_Tide_, time, e.g. "the tide when my father fell;" "the night-tide." + +_Tiles of Odin_, war shields, so called because Odin was god of war. + +_Tiller_, the handle of the rudder which steers a ship. + +_Toils_, snares, fetters. + +_To-morn_, tomorrow morning. + +_Train_, to entice, bring by trickery. + +_Tree-hole_, tree-trunk. + +_Troth_, a promise, generally a promise of marriage. + +_Troth-plight_, promised in marriage. + +_Trow_, to believe. + +_Twi-bill_, an axe with a double-edged blade. It was the weapon which +Odin carried when he appeared to men. + + +_Unbitted_, never taught to obey the bit, not broken in. + +_Unholpen_, unhelped. Holpen is the old form of the p.p. helped. + +_Unstable_, changeable, not lasting. + +_Uttermost horn_, the signal for Ragnarok. It was believed that +Heimdall, one of the gods who guarded a bridge called Bifrost between +Asgard and the earth, would blow a blast on his horn which would be +the sign for the beginning of the great battle between the gods and +the powers of evil. + + +_Venom_, poison. + + +_Wall-nook_, an opening or bend in a wall. + +_Wallow_, to roll about upon the ground, e.g. "Fafnir, the wallower +on the gold." + +_Wan_, pale, pinched with suffering. + +_Wane_, to fade away, grow dim. + +_Warding-walls_, guarding-walls. "_Warding walls of death_," man's +armour that keeps death from him. + +_Wards_, keepers, e.g. door-wards; cf. warden. Fafnir is called +"the gold-warden." + +_War-wand_, a sword. + +_Wary_, careful, ever on the watch. + +_Waste_, to destroy, to sweep away, e.g. Sigurd is said to "waste +every wrong." + +_Waxen_, grown, become. + +_Weal_, happiness, good-fortune. + +_Wedge-array_, an arrangement of fighting men in which they stood +close together in the form of a triangle. + +_Weed_, dress. + +_Well up_, to rise as a spring bubbles out of the ground; used of +feelings with the meaning "to arise and grow strong," e.g. "Wrath in +his heart wells up." + +_Welter_, the toss and ripple of the sea-waves. + +_Wend_, to go. + +_Whetted_, stirred up, made sharp or eager, e.g. "the whetted +Wrath." + +_Whileome_, in the past, once upon a time. + +_Whiles_, from time to time. + +_Whit_, a very small particle, a trifle, e.g. never a whit, no whit. + +_Wight_, a man, a creature, e.g. sea-wights, great sea-monsters. + +_Wise_, way, manner, after the fashion of. + +_Witch-wife_, witch. Wife here means woman. + +_Wold_, a hill; often used to mean open country. + +_Wood-craft_, knowledge of the woods and of all creatures in them, +e.g. "His wood-craft waxed so great, that he seemed the king of the +creatures." + +_Wot_, to know. + +_Wrack_, strife, destruction, ruins. _Wrack of a mighty battle_, the +dead left on the field. + +_Wrights_, workmen, makers. + +_Writhen_, bent, twisted out of shape, e.g. "Writhen and foul were +the hands that made it glorious." + +_Written spear_, a spear carved with letters or words. + + +_Yearn_, to long, to feel tenderness towards, e.g. "My heart to him +doth yearn." + +_Yore_, long ago; generally used in the expression "of yore," +formerly, once upon a time. + + + + + +LONGMANS' CLASS-BOOKS OF ENGLISH LITERATURE + +Each Volume contains an Introduction and Notes. + +Alcott's Little Women. + +Allen's Heroes of Indian History and Stories of their Times. With Maps +and Illustrations. + +Anderson's English Letters selected for Reading in Schools. + +Arnold's Sohrab and Rustum, and Balder Dead. + +Ballantyne's The Coral Island. (Abridged). + +Carroll's Alice in Wonderland. + +Cook's (Captain) Voyages. + +Defoe's Robinson Crusoe. (Abridged). With Illustrations. + +Dickens' A Christmas Carol. + +Dickens, Selections from. With Illustrations. + +Doyle's Micah Clarke. (Abridged). With 20 Illustrations. + +Doyle's The Refugees. (Abridged). With Illustrations. + +Doyle's The White Company. (Abridged). With 12 Illustrations. + +Fronde's Short Studies on Great Subjects. Selections. With Illustrations. + +Haggard's Eric Bright eyes. (Abridged). + +Haggard's Lysbeth. (Abridged). + +Hawthorne's A Wonder Book. + +Hawthorne's Tanglewood Tales. + +Hughes' Tom Brown's School Days. (Abridged) With Frontispiece. + +Jefferies (Richard), Selections from. + +Kingsley's The Heroes. With Illustrations. + +Kingsley's Hereward the Wake. (Abridged). + +Kingsley's Westward Ho! + +Lambs' Tales from Shakespeare. (Abridged.) + +Lang's Tales of the Greek Seas. With Illustrations. + +Lang's Tales of Troy. With Illustrations and a Map. + +Macaulay's History of England. Chap I. + +Macaulay's History of England. Chap III. + +Macaulay's History of England, Selections from. + +Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome, &c. + +Marryat's Settlers in Canada. + +Milton's Paradise Lost. Books I, II, III, IV, and V. + +Milton's Comus, Il Penseroso, L'Allegro and Lycidas. + +Morris's Atalanta's Race, and The Proud King. + +Morris's The Man Born to be King. + +Morris's The Story of the Glittering Plain. + +Morris's The Story of Sigurd the Volsung. + +Newman, Literary Selections from. + +Reade's The Cloister and the Hearth. + +Ruskin's King of the Golden River. + +Scott's Lay of the Last Minstrel. + +Scott's Marmion. + +Scott's The Lady of the Lake. + +Scott's The Talisman. (Abridged). + +Scott's A Legend of Montrose. (Abridged). + +Scott's Ivanhoe. (Abridged). + +Scott's Quentin Durward. (Abridged). + +Southey's The Life of Nelson. + +Stevenson's Book of Selections. + +Stevenson's A Child's Garden of Verse. With a Portrait. + +Tales of King Arthur and the Round Table. With Illustrations. + +Thackeray, Selections from. + +Thornton's Selection of Poetry. + +Weyman's The House of the Wolf. + +Zimmern's Gods and Heroes of the North. With Illustrations. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF SIGURD THE VOLSUNG*** + + +******* This file should be named 13486-8.txt or 13486-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/4/8/13486 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Story of Sigurd the Volsung</p> +<p>Author: William Morris</p> +<p>Release Date: September 17, 2004 [eBook #13486]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF SIGURD THE VOLSUNG***</p> +<br> +<br> +<h4>E-text prepared by David Starner, Cori Samuel,<br> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team</h4> +<br> +<br> +<hr class="full" noshade> +<br> +<br> +<br /><a name='Page_1'></a><a name='Page_2'></a><a name='Page_3'></a> +<h1>THE STORY OF +SIGURD THE VOLSUNG</h1> + +<h4>Written In Verse By</h4> + +<h2>WILLIAM MORRIS</h2> + +<h4>With Portions Condensed Into Prose By</h4> + +<h3>WINIFRED TURNER, B.A.</h3> +<h4>Late Assistant Mistress, Ware Grammar School For Girls +And</h4> +<h3>HELEN SCOTT, M.A.</h3> + + +<h5>1922</h5> +<br /> +<a name='Page_4'></a> + +<br /> +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<br /> +<br /> +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Adapted. --> + <a href='#BIOG_INTRODUCTION'><b>BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION</b></a><br /> + <a href='#INTRODUCTION_TO_SIGURD'><b>INTRODUCTION TO SIGURD</b></a><br /> + <a href='#BOOK_I'><b>BOOK_I.</b></a><br /> + <a href='#BOOK_II'><b>BOOK II.</b></a><br /> + <a href='#BOOK_III'><b>BOOK III.</b></a><br /> + <a href='#GLOSSARY'><b>GLOSSARY</b></a><br /> + +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + +<br /> +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<br /> + +<a name='BIOG_INTRODUCTION'></a><h2><a name='Page_5'></a>BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION</h2> + +<h3>By J. W. Mackail</h3> +<br /> + +<p>William Morris, one of the most eminent imaginative writers of the +Victorian age, differs from most other poets and men of letters in +two ways—first, he did great work in many other things as well as in +literature; secondly, he had beliefs of his own about the meaning and +conduct of life, about all that men think and do and make, very +different from those of ordinary people, and he carried out these +views in his writings as well as in all the other work he did +throughout his life.</p> + +<p>He was born in 1834. His father, a member of a business firm in the +City of London, was a wealthy man and lived in Essex, in a country +house with large gardens and fields belonging to it, on the edge of +Epping Forest. Until the age of thirteen Morris was at home among a +large family of brothers and sisters. He delighted in the country +life and especially in the Forest, which is one of the most romantic +parts of England, and which he made the scene of many real and +imaginary adventures. From fourteen to eighteen he was at school at +Marlborough among the Wiltshire downs, in a country full of beauty and +history, and close to another of the ancient forests of England, that +of Savernake. He proceeded from school to Exeter College, Oxford, +where he soon formed a close friendship with a remarkable set of young +men of his own age; chief among these, and Morris's closest friend for +the rest of his life, was Edward Burne-Jones, the painter. Study of +the works of John <a name='Page_6'></a>Ruskin confirmed them in the admiration which they +already felt for the life and art of the Middle Ages. In the summer +vacation of 1855 the two friends went to Northern France to see the +beautiful towns and splendid churches with which that country had been +filled between the eleventh and the fifteenth centuries; and there +they made up their minds that they cared for art more than for +anything else, such as wealth or ease or the opinion of the world, +and that as soon as they left Oxford they would become artists. +By art they meant the making of beauty for the adornment and +enrichment of human life, and as artists they meant to strive against +all that was ugly or mean or untruthful in the life of their own time.</p> + +<p>Art, as they understood it, is one single thing covering the whole +of life but practised in many special forms that differ one from +another. Among these many forms of art there are two of principal +importance. One of the two is the art which is concerned with the +making and adorning of the houses in which men and women live; that is +to say, architecture, with all its attendant arts of decoration, +including sculpture, painting, the designing and ornamenting of +metal, wood and glass, carpets, paper-hangings, woven, dyed and +embroidered cloths of all kinds, and all the furniture which a house +may have for use or pleasure. The other is the art which is concerned +with the making and adorning of stories in prose and verse. Both of +these kinds of art were practised by Morris throughout his life. The +former was his principal occupation; he made his living by it, and +built up in it a business which alone made him famous, and which has +had a great influence towards bringing more beauty into daily domestic +life in England and in other countries also. His profession was thus +that of a manufacturer, designer, and decorator. When he had to +describe himself by a single word, he called himself a designer. But +it is the latter branch of his art which <a name='Page_7'></a>principally concerns us now, +the art of a maker and adorner of stories. He became famous in this +kind of art also, both in prose and verse, as a romance-writer and a +poet. But he spoke of it as play rather than work, and although he +spent much time and great pains on it, he regarded it as relaxation +from the harder and more constant work of his life, which was carrying +on the business of designing, painting, weaving, dyeing, printing and +other occupations of that kind. In later life he also gave much of his +time to political and social work, with the object of bringing back +mankind into a path from which they had strayed since the end of the +Middle Ages, and creating a state of society in which art, by the +people and for the people, a joy to the maker and the user, might be +naturally, easily, and universally produced.</p> + +<p>Even as a boy Morris had been noted for his love of reading and +inventing tales; but he did not begin to write any until he had been +for a couple of years at Oxford. His earliest poems and his earliest +written prose tales belong to the same year, 1855, in which he +determined to make art his profession. The first of either that he +published appeared in the Oxford and Cambridge Magazine, which was +started and managed by him and his friends in 1856. In 1858, after he +had left Oxford, he brought out a volume of poems called, after the +title of the first poem in the book, "The Defence of Guenevere." Soon +afterwards he founded, with some of his old Oxford friends and others +whom he had made in London, among whom Dante Gabriel Rossetti was the +leading spirit, the firm of Morris and Company, manufacturers and +decorators. His business, in which he was the principal and finally +the sole partner, took up the main part of his time. He had also +married, and built himself a beautiful small house in Kent, the +decoration of which went busily on for several years. Among all these +other occupations he almost gave up writing stories, but never ceased +<a name='Page_8'></a>reading and thinking about them. In 1865 he came back to live in +London, where, being close to his work, he had more leisure for other +things; and between 1865 and 1870 he wrote between thirty and forty +tales in verse, containing not less than seventy or eighty thousand +lines in all. The longest of these tales, "The Life and Death of +Jason," appeared in 1867. It is the old Greek story of the ship Argo +and the voyage in quest of the Golden Fleece. Twenty-five other tales +are included in "The Earthly Paradise," published in three parts +between 1868 and 1870.</p> + +<p>During these years Morris learned Icelandic, and his next published +works were translations of some of the Icelandic sagas, writings +composed from six to nine hundred years ago, and containing a mass of +legends, histories and romances finely told in a noble language. These +translations were followed in 1876 by his great epic poem, "Sigurd the +Volsung and the Fall of the Niblungs." In that poem he retold a story +of which an Icelandic version, the "Volsunga Saga," written in the +twelfth century, is one of the world's masterpieces. It is the great +epic of Northern Europe, just as the "Iliad" and "Odyssey" of Homer +are the chief epics of ancient Greece, and the "Æneid" of Virgil the +chief epic of the Roman Empire. Morris's love for these great stories +of ancient times led him to rewrite the tale of the Volsungs and +Niblungs, which he reckoned the finest of them all, more fully and on +a larger scale than it had ever been written before. He had already, +in 1875, translated the "Æneid" into verse, and some ten years later, +in 1886-87, he also made a verse translation of the "Odyssey." In 1873 +he had also written another very beautiful poem, "Love is Enough," +containing the story of three pairs of lovers, a countryman and +country-woman, an emperor and empress, and a prince and peasant girl. +This poem was written in the form of a play, not of a narrative.</p> + +<p><a name='Page_9'></a>To write prose was at first for Morris more difficult than to write +poetry. Verse came naturally to him, and he composed in prose only +with much effort until after long practice. Except for his early tales +in the Oxford and Cambridge Magazine and his translations of Icelandic +sagas, he wrote little but poetry until the year 1882. About that time +he began to give lectures and addresses, and wrote them in great +numbers during the latter part of his life. A number of them were +collected and published in two volumes called "Hopes and Fears for +Art" and "Signs of Change," and many others have been published +separately. He thus gradually accustomed himself to prose composition. +For several years he was too busy with other things, which he thought +more important, to spend time on storytelling; but his instinct forced +itself out again, and in 1886 he began the series of romances in prose +or in mixed prose and verse which went on during the next ten years. +The chief of these are, "A Dream of John Ball," "The House of +Wolfings," "The Roots of the Mountains," "News from Nowhere," "The +Glittering Plain," "The Wood beyond the World," "The Well at the +World's End," "The Water of the Wondrous Isles," and "The Sundering +Flood." During the same years he also translated, out of +Icelandic and old French books, more of the stories which he had +long known and admired. "The Sundering Flood" was written in his last +illness, and finished by him within a few days of his death, in the +autumn of 1896.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='INTRODUCTION_TO_SIGURD'></a><h2><a name='Page_10'></a>INTRODUCTION TO SIGURD</h2> + +<h3>By The Editors</h3> +<br /> + +<p>The story of Sigurd is important to English people not only for its +wondrous beauty, but also on account of its great age, and of what it +tells us about our own Viking ancestors, who first knew the story.</p> + +<p>The tale was known all over the north of Europe, in Denmark, in +Germany, in Norway and Sweden, and in Iceland, hundreds of years +before it was written down. Sometimes different names were given to +the characters, sometimes the events of the story were slightly +altered, but in the main points it was one and the same tale.</p> + +<p>If we look at a map of Europe showing the nations as they were rather +more than a thousand years ago, we see the names of Saxons, Goths, +Danes, and Frisians marked on the lands around the Baltic Sea. Those +who bore these names were the makers of the tale of Sigurd. The name +of the Saxons is, of course, the best known to us, and next in +importance come the people we call Danes, or Northmen, or Vikings, who +attacked the coasts of the Saxon kingdoms in England. The Saxons came +from part of the land that is now known as Germany, and the Vikings +from Denmark and from Scandinavia.</p> + +<p>A third important tribe was that of the Goths, who dwelt first in +South Sweden, and then in Germany.</p> + +<p>All these people resembled one another in their way of life, in their +religion, and in their ideas of what deeds were good and what were +evil. Their lands were barren—too mountainous or <a name='Page_11'></a>too cold to bring +forth fruitful crops, and their homes were not such as would tempt men +never to leave them. So, though they built their little groups of +wooden houses in the valleys of their lands, and made fields and +pastures about them, these were often left to the care of the women +and the feeble men, while the strong men made raids over the sea to +other countries, where they engaged in the fighting which they loved, +and whence they brought back plunder to their homes. North, South, +East, and West they went, till few parts of Europe had not learnt to +know and fear them.</p> + +<p>Their ships were long and narrow, driven often by oars as well as +sails, and outside them, along the bulwarks, the crew hung their round +shields made of yellow wood from the lime-tree. The men wore byrnies +or breast-plates, and helmets, and they were armed with swords, long +spears, or heavy battle-axes. They were enemies none could afford to +despise, for they had great stature and strength of body, joined to +such fierceness and delight in war that they held a man disgraced if +he died peacefully at home. Moreover, they knew nothing of mercy to +the conquered.</p> + +<p>Courage, not only to fight, but also to bear suffering without +impatience or complaint, and the virtue of faithfulness were the +qualities they most honoured. To be wanting in courage was disgraceful +in their eyes, but it was equally disgraceful to refuse to help +kinsfolk, to lie, to deceive, or to desert a chief.</p> + +<p>If they put their enemies to death with fearful tortures, they did not +treat them more severely than the traitors they discovered among +themselves, and if they had no pity for those they conquered, yet they +knew well how to admire great leaders, and how to serve them +faithfully. But we can best realise their ideas on these matters by +considering their religion and their stories.</p> + +<p>They worshipped one chief god, Odin, and other gods and <a name='Page_12'></a>goddesses who +were his children. Odin was often called All-father because he was the +helper and friend of human beings, and appeared on earth in the form +of an old man, "one-eyed and seeming ancient," with cloud-blue hood +and grey cloak. He had courage, strength, and wondrous wisdom, for he +knew all events that happened in the world, and he understood the +speech of birds, and all kinds of charms and magic arts. Men served +him by brave fighting in a good cause, and when they perished in +battle he received their souls in his dwelling of Valhalla in the city +of Asgard, where they spent each day in warfare, and where at evening +the dead were revived, the wounded healed, and all feasted together in +Odin's palace. There they fed upon the flesh of the boar Saehrimner, +which was renewed as fast as it was eaten. Certain maidens called +Valkyrie, or Choosers of the Slain, were Odin's messengers whom he +sent forth into the battles of the world to find the warriors whom he +had appointed to die, and to bring them to Valhalla.</p> + +<p>In the story of Sigurd Odin has a very important part to play, but +for the understanding of the tale it is necessary to know something +about another of the gods. This is Loki, who, though sprung from the +race of the giants, yet lived with the sons of Odin in Asgard, +behaving sometimes as their trusty helper, but more often as their +cunning enemy. He caused much wretchedness, not only among the gods, +but on earth also, for he delighted in the sight of misery. His vices +were all those most hateful to the Norse people, for he was before +all things a liar, a deceiver, a faith-breaker, a skilful worker of +mischief by guile instead of by fair fight. There are many stories of +his cunning thefts, of the miseries he wrought among his companions, +and of his envy of the beloved god Balder, whom he slew by a trick. +His children were terrible monsters, as hated as himself. Yet, +strange to say, Loki was Odin's companion in many of his adventures.</p> + +<p><a name='Page_13'></a>The gods inhabited Asgard, a city standing on a high mountain in the +middle of the world. Odin's palace of Valhalla was there, and other +palaces for his sons and daughters. All round Asgard lay Midgard, or +the ordinary world of men and women. Its caves and waste places were +inhabited by dwarfs, whom Odin had banished from the light of day for +various ill deeds. They were a spiteful and cunning race, jealous of +mankind, and eager to recover their lost power. Their strength lay in +their wondrous skill in handicraft, for they could forge more deadly +weapons, and fashion more lovely jewels than any made by the hands of +men. But, though possessed of wisdom, they had no spirit of kindness, +no respect for right, and no dislike of wrong.</p> + +<p>Around Midgard lay the sea, and beyond that Utgard, a hideous frozen +country inhabited by giants, enemies of the gods.</p> + +<p>But this arrangement of the world was only for a season. The gods +themselves looked forward to a time of defeat and death, when Asgard +should perish in flames and the world with it, and the sun and moon +should be darkened, and they themselves should be slain. This great +day was called Ragnarok, or sometimes the Twilight of the Gods. Then +Loki would gather giants and monsters to a great battle against the +gods, who would slay their enemies, but who would themselves fall in +the struggle. The sea would drown the earth, the stars would fall, +and all things would pass away.</p> + +<p>This terrible fate the gods awaited with calm and cheerfulness, +showing even greater courage than in their many deeds of war. They +had to submit to this fate, for there were three beings even greater +than they. These were the Norns, deciders of the fate of gods and men +alike. They were three giant maidens who dwelt by a sacred, +wisdom-giving fountain, and who controlled the lives of men, giving +to each sickness and health, success <a name='Page_14'></a>and failure and death when they +would. No man or god might escape what the Norns decreed for him.</p> + +<p>Many stories of these gods, together with tales of famous men, were +told among the northern peoples. These stories were passed on from +one to another by word of mouth, till they grew much longer and +fuller, and the happening of certain historical events helped to take +them from country to country.</p> + +<p>As we have seen, all the races of the North were warlike and eager +for adventure, and so when trouble came upon them in their own homes, +they readily took to the sea to plunder the coasts or to conquer +other lands. Between 800 and 900 A.D., when the Danes were invading +England, many were driven from Norway because they refused to submit +to a king called Harold Fairhair, and when he pursued them to the +Orkney and Faroe Islands they took refuge on the coasts of Iceland. +There they settled, built themselves wooden houses, planted such +crops as would grow in that bleak land, and founded a commonwealth. +Little by little they left the old Viking life, and it lived only in +their songs and stories.</p> + +<p>They had come to Iceland with a vast stock of tales in poetry, which +were related or sung by professional poets, called skalds, at all +kinds of feasts and gatherings. The skalds arranged and improved the +old stories, but they were not written down until about the time of +our King Stephen, when some unknown writer collected them into one +book called the Elder Edda. Very soon after this another book was +written containing the same stories in prose and called the Younger +or Prose Edda. In this way many of the old poems, and a great many +stories containing much information about the religion which the +people took with them to Iceland, have been preserved.</p> + +<p>But it was from neither of the Eddas that William Morris took his +story of Sigurd.</p> + +<p><a name='Page_15'></a>All through the period from 800 A.D. till about the time of Henry III. +of England, the skalds had been re-telling many of the poetic stories +in prose, and as the people grew more civilised, one tale after +another was written down in its new form.</p> + +<p>These prose tales were called Sagas, and among the very greatest is +the Volsunga Saga, or Story of Sigurd. It is a tale which has been +told in other lands besides Iceland. We read part of the same story +in the Old English poem of Beowulf, and in Germany it was made into +a great poem called the Nibelungenlied. The German musician, Richard +Wagner, set it to music in a famous series of operas called the +Nibelungen Ring. But his tale differs in many points from that +contained in Morris's poem, for Morris chose the old saga as it was +written in Iceland, not the German story. On this he founded his poem, +adding much beautiful description, and greatly lengthening the whole.</p> + +<p>The story deals first with a certain King Volsung, to whose son, +Sigmund, Odin presented a magic sword.</p> + +<p>But Siggeir, the jealous king of the Goths, slew Volsung, and took +Sigmund prisoner that he might have the sword for himself. Only after +many toils and perils did Sigmund win it back and reign in his +father's kingdom. At last in his old age he fell in battle and the +sword of Odin was shattered. But his wife, Queen Hiordis, kept the +fragments for the son who was born to her soon after in Denmark, +whither she fled for safety. This son of Sigmund and Hiordis was +Sigurd the Volsung. He was brought up in Denmark and grew strong +and beautiful, brave, kind of heart, and utterly truthful in word +and deed.</p> + +<p>When he became a man he longed to win fame and kingship by mighty +deeds, and when his tutor told him of a great dragon that guarded a +hoard of ill-gotten gold in the mountains, he resolved <a name='Page_16'></a>to kill it. So +the fragments of Odin's sword were forged into a new blade, and +Sigurd slew the dragon and took the gold, but with it he brought on +himself a curse which had been put upon the treasure by the dwarf +from whom it had been stolen.</p> + +<p>Sigurd then found and wakened Brynhild, a maiden who lay in an +enchanted sleep upon a high mountain. They loved one another, and +Sigurd gave her a ring from the dragon's treasure, promising to +return and marry her.</p> + +<p>Then the curse led him to join with the fierce and treacherous +Niblungs or Cloudy People. Their king and his mother grew jealous +when they saw Sigurd more mighty and more beloved than themselves, +and by enchantments they caused him to forget Brynhild, to wed the +princess Gudrun, and at last to aid the Niblung king, Gunnar, to win +Brynhild for his own wife.</p> + +<p>Then the curse of the gold brought death to many, for Sigurd and +Brynhild discovered all the treachery of the Niblungs, who, in their +anger, slew Sigurd, and Brynhild killed herself that she might not +live and sorrow for him.</p> + +<p>Such is the story of Sigurd as it was told a thousand years ago in +distant Iceland, and as it is retold in this poem by William Morris.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<h1><a name='Page_17'></a>THE STORY OF<br /> +SIGURD THE VOLSUNG.</h1> +<br /> + +<a name='BOOK_I'></a><h2>BOOK I.</h2> + +<h3>SIGMUND.</h3> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of the dwelling of King Volsung, and the wedding of Signy his +daughter.</i></p> + + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>There was a dwelling of Kings ere the world was waxen old;<br /></span> +<span>Dukes were the door-wards there, and the roofs were thatched with gold:<br /></span> +<span>Earls were the wrights that wrought it, and silver nailed its doors;<br /></span> +<span>Earls' wives were the weaving-women, queens' daughters strewed its floors,<br /></span> +<span>And the masters of its song-craft were the mightiest men that cast<br /></span> +<span>The sails of the storm of battle adown the bickering blast.<br /></span> +<span>There dwelt men merry-hearted, and in hope exceeding great<br /></span> +<span>Met the good days and the evil as they went the way of fate:<br /></span> +<span>There the Gods were unforgotten, yea whiles they walked with men,<br /></span> +<span>Though e'en in that world's beginning rose a murmur now and again<br /></span> +<span>Of the midward time and the fading and the last of the latter days,<br /></span> +<span>And the entering in of the terror, and the death of the People's Praise.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Thus was the dwelling of Volsung, the King of the Midworld's Mark,<br /></span> +<span>As a rose in the winter season, a candle in the dark;<br /></span> +<span>And as in all other matters 'twas all earthly houses' crown,<br /></span> +<span>And the least of its wall-hung shields was a battle-world's renown,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_18'></a>So therein withal was a marvel and a glorious thing to see,<br /></span> +<span>For amidst of its midmost hall-floor sprang up a mighty tree,<br /></span> +<span>That reared its blessings roofward, and wreathed the roof-tree dear<br /></span> +<span>With the glory of the summer and the garland of the year.<br /></span> +<span>I know not how they called it ere Volsung changed his life,<br /></span> +<span>But his dawning of fair promise, and his noontide of the strife,<br /></span> +<span>His eve of the battle-reaping and the garnering of his fame,<br /></span> +<span>Have bred us many a story and named us many a name;<br /></span> +<span>And when men tell of Volsung, they call that war-duke's tree,<br /></span> +<span>That crownèd stem, the Branstock; and so was it told unto me.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So there was the throne of Volsung beneath its blossoming bower,<br /></span> +<span>But high o'er the roof-crest red it rose 'twixt tower and tower,<br /></span> +<span>And therein were the wild hawks dwelling, abiding the dole of their lord;<br /></span> +<span>And they wailed high over the wine, and laughed to the waking sword.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Still were its boughs but for them, when lo, on an even of May<br /></span> +<span>Comes a man from Siggeir the King with a word for his mouth to say:<br /></span> +<span>"All hail to thee King Volsung, from the King of the Goths I come:<br /></span> +<span>He hath heard of thy sword victorious and thine abundant home;<br /></span> +<span>He hath heard of thy sons in the battle, the fillers of Odin's Hall;<br /></span> +<span>And a word hath the west-wind blown him, (full fruitful be its fall!)<br /></span> +<span>A word of thy daughter Signy the crown of womanhood:<br /></span> +<span>Now he deems thy friendship goodly, and thine help in the battle good,<br /></span> +<span>And for these will he give his friendship and his battle-aid again:<br /></span> +<span>But if thou wouldst grant his asking, and make his heart full fain,<br /></span> +<span>Then shalt thou give him a matter, saith he, without a price,<br /></span> +<span>—Signy the fairer than fair, Signy the wiser than wise."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Now the message gladdened Volsung and his sons, but no word spake +Signy, till the king asked her what her mind might be. Then said +Signy, "I will wed the Goth king, and yet shall I rue my lot in his +hall." And Volsung urged her with kind words to do nought against her +will, but her mind was fixed, and she said she wrought but what the +gods had fore-ordained. So the earl of Siggeir went his <a name='Page_19'></a>way with +gifts and fair words, bidding the Goth king come ere a month was over +to wed the white-handed Signy and bear her home.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>So on Mid-Summer Even ere the undark night began<br /></span> +<span>Siggeir the King of the Goth-folk went up from the bath of the swan<br /></span> +<span>Unto the Volsung dwelling with many an Earl about;<br /></span> +<span>There through the glimmering thicket the linkèd mail rang out,<br /></span> +<span>And sang as mid the woodways sings the summer-hidden ford:<br /></span> +<span>There were gold-rings God-fashioned, and many a Dwarf-wrought sword,<br /></span> +<span>And many a Queen-wrought kirtle and many a written spear;<br /></span> +<span>So came they to the acres, and drew the threshold near,<br /></span> +<span>And amidst of the garden blossoms, on the grassy, fruit-grown land,<br /></span> +<span>Was Volsung the King of the Wood-world with his sons on either hand;<br /></span> +<span>Therewith down lighted Siggeir the lord of a mighty folk,<br /></span> +<span>Yet showed he by King Volsung as the bramble by the oak,<br /></span> +<span>Nor reached his helm to the shoulder of the least of Volsung's sons.<br /></span> +<span>And so into the hall they wended, the Kings and their mighty ones;<br /></span> +<span>And they dight the feast full glorious, and drank through the death of the day,<br /></span> +<span>Till the shadowless moon rose upward, till it wended white away;<br /></span> +<span>Then they went to the gold-hung beds, and at last for an hour or twain<br /></span> +<span>Were all things still and silent, save a flaw of the summer rain.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But on the morrow noontide when the sun was high and bare,<br /></span> +<span>More glorious was the banquet, and now was Signy there,<br /></span> +<span>And she sat beside King Siggeir, a glorious bride forsooth;<br /></span> +<span>Ruddy and white was she wrought as the fair-stained sea-beast's tooth,<br /></span> +<span>But she neither laughed nor spake, and her eyes were hard and cold,<br /></span> +<span>And with wandering side-long looks her lord would she behold.<br /></span> +<span>That saw Sigmund her brother, the eldest Volsung son,<br /></span> +<span>And oft he looked upon her, and their eyes met now and anon,<br /></span> +<span>And ruth arose in his heart, and hate of Siggeir the Goth,<br /></span> +<span>And there had he broken the wedding, but for plighted promise and troth.<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_20'></a>But those twain were beheld of Siggeir, and he deemed of the Volsung kin,<br /></span> +<span>That amid their might and their malice small honour should he win;<br /></span> +<span>Yet thereof made he no semblance, but abided times to be,<br /></span> +<span>And laughed out with the loudest, amid the hope and the glee.<br /></span> +<span>And nought of all saw Volsung, as he dreamed of the coming glory,<br /></span> +<span>And how the Kings of his kindred should fashion the round world's story.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So round about the Branstock they feast in the gleam of the gold;<br /></span> +<span>And though the deeds of man-folk were not yet waxen old,<br /></span> +<span>Yet had they tales for songcraft, and the blossomed garth of rhyme;<br /></span> +<span>Tales of the framing of all things and the entering in of time<br /></span> +<span>From the halls of the outer heaven; so near they knew the door.<br /></span> +<span>Wherefore uprose a sea-king, and his hands that loved the oar<br /></span> +<span>Now dealt with the rippling harp-gold, and he sang of the shaping of earth,<br /></span> +<span>And how the stars were lighted, and where the winds had birth,<br /></span> +<span>And the gleam of the first of summers on the yet untrodden grass.<br /></span> +<span>But e'en as men's hearts were hearkening some heard the thunder pass<br /></span> +<span>O'er the cloudless noontide heaven; and some men turned about<br /></span> +<span>And deemed that in the doorway they heard a man laugh out.<br /></span> +<span>Then into the Volsung dwelling a mighty man there strode,<br /></span> +<span>One-eyed and seeming ancient, yet bright his visage glowed:<br /></span> +<span>Cloud-blue was the hood upon him, and his kirtle gleaming-grey<br /></span> +<span>As the latter morning sundog when the storm is on the way:<br /></span> +<span>A bill he bore on his shoulder, whose mighty ashen beam<br /></span> +<span>Burnt bright with the flame of the sea and the blended silver's gleam.<br /></span> +<span>And such was the guise of his raiment as the Volsung elders had told<br /></span> +<span>Was borne by their fathers' fathers, and the first that warred in the wold.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So strode he to the Branstock nor greeted any lord,<br /></span> +<span>But forth from his cloudy raiment he drew a gleaming sword,<br /></span> +<span>And smote it deep in the tree-hole, and the wild hawks overhead<br /></span> +<span>Laughed 'neath the naked heaven as at last he spake and said:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"<a name='Page_21'></a>Earls of the Goths, and Volsungs, abiders on the earth,<br /></span> +<span>Lo there amid the Branstock a blade of plenteous worth!<br /></span> +<span>The folk of the war-wand's forgers wrought never better steel<br /></span> +<span>Since first the burg of heaven uprose for man-folk's weal.<br /></span> +<span>Now let the man among you whose heart and hand may shift<br /></span> +<span>To pluck it from the oakwood e'en take it for my gift.<br /></span> +<span>Then ne'er, but his own heart falter, its point and edge shall fail<br /></span> +<span>Until the night's beginning and the ending of the tale.<br /></span> +<span>Be merry Earls of the Goth-folk, O Volsung Sons be wise<br /></span> +<span>And reap the battle-acre that ripening for you lies:<br /></span> +<span>For they told me in the wild wood, I heard on the mountain side,<br /></span> +<span>That the shining house of heaven is wrought exceeding wide,<br /></span> +<span>And that there the Early-comers shall have abundant rest<br /></span> +<span>While Earth grows scant of great ones, and fadeth from its best,<br /></span> +<span>And fadeth from its midward and groweth poor and vile:—<br /></span> +<span>All hail to thee King Volsung! farewell for a little while!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So sweet his speaking sounded, so wise his words did seem,<br /></span> +<span>That moveless all men sat there, as in a happy dream<br /></span> +<span>We stir not lest we waken; but there his speech had end,<br /></span> +<span>And slowly down the hall-floor, and outward did he wend;<br /></span> +<span>And none would cast him a question or follow on his ways,<br /></span> +<span>For they knew that the gift was Odin's, a sword for the world to praise.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But now spake Volsung the King: "Why sit ye silent and still?<br /></span> +<span>Is the Battle-Father's visage a token of terror and ill?<br /></span> +<span>Arise O Volsung Children, Earls of the Goths arise,<br /></span> +<span>And set your hands to the hilts as mighty men and wise!<br /></span> +<span>Yet deem it not too easy; for belike a fateful blade<br /></span> +<span>Lies there in the heart of the Branstock for a fated warrior made."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now therewith spake King Siggeir: "King Volsung give me a grace<br /></span> +<span>To try it the first of all men, lest another win my place<br /></span> +<span>And mere chance-hap steal my glory and the gain that I might win."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span><a name='Page_22'></a>Then somewhat laughed King Volsung, and he said: "O Guest, begin;<br /></span> +<span>Though herein is the first as the last, for the Gods have long to live,<br /></span> +<span>Nor hath Odin yet forgotten unto whom the gift he would give."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then forth to the tree went Siggeir, the Goth-folk's mighty lord,<br /></span> +<span>And laid his hand on the gemstones, and strained at the glorious sword<br /></span> +<span>Till his heart grew black with anger; and never a word he said<br /></span> +<span>As he wended back to the high-seat: but Signy waxed blood-red<br /></span> +<span>When he sat him adown beside her; and her heart was nigh to break<br /></span> +<span>For the shame and the fateful boding: and therewith King Volsung spake:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Thus comes back empty-handed the mightiest King of Earth,<br /></span> +<span>And how shall the feeble venture? yet each man knows his worth;<br /></span> +<span>And today may a great beginning from a little seed upspring<br /></span> +<span>To o'erpass many a great one that hath the name of King:<br /></span> +<span>So stand forth free and unfree; stand forth both most and least:<br /></span> +<span>But first ye Earls of the Goth-folk, ye lovely lords we feast."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Upstood the Earls of Siggeir, and each man drew anigh<br /></span> +<span>And deemed his time was coming for a glorious gain and high;<br /></span> +<span>But for all their mighty shaping and their deeds in the battle-wood,<br /></span> +<span>No looser in the Branstock that gift of Odin stood.<br /></span> +<span>Then uprose Volsung's homemen, and the fell-abiding folk;<br /></span> +<span>And the yellow-headed shepherds came gathering round the Oak,<br /></span> +<span>And the searchers of the thicket and the dealers with the oar:<br /></span> +<span>And the least and the worst of them all was a mighty man of war.<br /></span> +<span>But for all their mighty shaping, and the struggle and the strain<br /></span> +<span>Of their hands, the deft in labour, they tugged thereat in vain;<br /></span> +<span>And still as the shouting and jeers, and the names of men and the laughter<br /></span> +<span>Beat backward from gable to gable, and rattled o'er roof-tree and rafter,<br /></span> +<span>Moody and still sat Siggeir; for he said: "They have trained me here<br /></span> +<span>As a mock for their woodland bondsmen; and yet shall they buy it dear."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span><a name='Page_23'></a>Now the tumult sank a little, and men cried on Volsung the King<br /></span> +<span>And his sons, the hedge of battle, to try the fateful thing.<br /></span> +<span>So Volsung laughed, and answered: "I will set me to the toil,<br /></span> +<span>Lest these my guests of the Goth-folk should deem I fear the foil.<br /></span> +<span>Yet nought am I ill-sworded, and the oldest friend is best;<br /></span> +<span>And this, my hand's first fellow, will I bear to the grave-mound's rest,<br /></span> +<span>Nor wield meanwhile another: Yea, this shall I have in hand<br /></span> +<span>When mid the host of Odin in the Day of Doom I stand."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Therewith from his belt of battle he raised the golden sheath,<br /></span> +<span>And showed the peace-strings glittering about the hidden death:<br /></span> +<span>Then he laid his hand on the Branstock, and cried: "O tree beloved,<br /></span> +<span>I thank thee of thy good-heart that so little thou art moved:<br /></span> +<span>Abide thou thus, green bower, when I am dead and gone<br /></span> +<span>And the best of all my kindred a better day hath won!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then as a young man laughed he, and on the hilts of gold<br /></span> +<span>His hand, the battle-breaker, took fast and certain hold,<br /></span> +<span>And long he drew and strained him, but mended not the tale,<br /></span> +<span>Yet none the more thereover his mirth of heart did fail;<br /></span> +<span>But he wended to the high-seat and thence began to cry:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Sons I have gotten and cherished, now stand ye forth to try;<br /></span> +<span>Lest Odin tell in God-home how from the way he strayed,<br /></span> +<span>And how to the man he would not he gave away his blade."<br /></span> +<span>So therewithal rose Rerir, and wasted might and main;<br /></span> +<span>Then Gunthiof, and then Hunthiof, they wearied them in vain;<br /></span> +<span>Nought was the might of Agnar; nought Helgi could avail;<br /></span> +<span>Sigi the tall and Solar no further brought the tale,<br /></span> +<span>Nor Geirmund the priest of the temple, nor Gylfi of the wood.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>At last by the side of the Branstock Sigmund the Volsung stood,<br /></span> +<span>And with right hand wise in battle the precious sword-hilt caught,<br /></span> +<span>Yet in a careless fashion, as he deemed it all for nought:<br /></span> +<span>When lo, from floor to rafter went up a shattering shout,<br /></span> +<span>For aloft in the hand of Sigmund the naked blade shone out<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_24'></a>As high o'er his head he shook it: for the sword had come away<br /></span> +<span>From the grip of the heart of the Branstock, as though all loose it lay.<br /></span> +<span>A little while he stood there mid the glory of the hall,<br /></span> +<span>Like the best of the trees of the garden, when the April sunbeams fall<br /></span> +<span>On its blossomed boughs in the morning, and tell of the days to be;<br /></span> +<span>Then back unto the high-seat he wended soberly;<br /></span> +<span>For this was the thought within him; Belike the day shall come<br /></span> +<span>When I shall bide here lonely amid the Volsung home,<br /></span> +<span>Its glory and sole avenger, its after-summer seed.<br /></span> +<span>Yea, I am the hired of Odin, his workday will to speed,<br /></span> +<span>And the harvest-tide shall be heavy.—What then, were it come and past<br /></span> +<span>And I laid by the last of the sheaves with my wages earned at the last?<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>He lifted his eyes as he thought it, for now was he come to his place,<br /></span> +<span>And there he stood by his father and met Siggeir face to face,<br /></span> +<span>And he saw him blithe and smiling, and heard him how he spake:<br /></span> +<span>"O best of the sons of Volsung, I am merry for thy sake<br /></span> +<span>And the glory that thou hast gained us; but whereas thine hand and heart<br /></span> +<span>Are e'en now the lords of the battle, how lack'st thou for thy part<br /></span> +<span>A matter to better the best? Wilt thou overgild fine gold<br /></span> +<span>Or dye the red rose redder? So I prithee let me hold<br /></span> +<span>This sword that comes to thine hand on the day I wed thy kin.<br /></span> +<span>For at home have I a store-house; there is mountain-gold therein<br /></span> +<span>The weight of a war-king's harness; there is silver plenteous store;<br /></span> +<span>There is iron, and huge-wrought amber, that the southern men love sore,<br /></span> +<span>When they sell me the woven wonder, the purple born of the sea;<br /></span> +<span>And it hangeth up in that bower, and all this is a gift for thee:<br /></span> +<span>But the sword that came to my wedding, methinketh it meet and right,<br /></span> +<span>That it lie on my knees in the council and stead me in the fight."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But Sigmund laughed and answered, and he spake a scornful word:<br /></span> +<span>"And if I take twice that treasure, will it buy me Odin's sword,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_25'></a>And the gift that the Gods have given? will it buy me again to stand<br /></span> +<span>Betwixt two mightiest world-kings with a longed-for thing in mine hand<br /></span> +<span>That all their might hath missed of? when the purple-selling men<br /></span> +<span>Come buying thine iron and amber, dost thou sell thine honour then?<br /></span> +<span>Do they wrap it in bast of the linden, or run it in moulds of earth?<br /></span> +<span>And shalt thou account mine honour as a matter of lesser worth?<br /></span> +<span>Came the sword to thy wedding, Goth-king, to thine hand it never came,<br /></span> +<span>And thence is thine envy whetted to deal me this word of shame."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Black then was the heart of Siggeir, but his face grew pale and red,<br /></span> +<span>Till he drew a smile thereover, and spake the word and said:<br /></span> +<span>"Nay, pardon me, Signy's kinsman! when the heart desires o'ermuch<br /></span> +<span>It teacheth the tongue ill speaking, and my word belike was such.<br /></span> +<span>But the honour of thee and thy kindred, I hold it even as mine,<br /></span> +<span>And I love you as my heart-blood, and take ye this for a sign.<br /></span> +<span>I bid thee now King Volsung, and these thy glorious sons,<br /></span> +<span>And thine earls and thy dukes of battle and all thy mighty ones,<br /></span> +<span>To come to the house of the Goth-kings as honoured guests and dear<br /></span> +<span>And abide the winter over; that the dusky days and drear<br /></span> +<span>May be glorious with thy presence, that all folk may praise my life,<br /></span> +<span>And the friends that my fame hath gotten; and that this my new-wed wife<br /></span> +<span>Thine eyes may make the merrier till she bear my eldest born."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then speedily answered Volsung: "No king of the earth might scorn<br /></span> +<span>Such noble bidding, Siggeir; and surely will I come<br /></span> +<span>To look upon thy glory and the Goths' abundant home.<br /></span> +<span>But let two months wear over, for I have many a thing<br /></span> +<span>To shape and shear in the Woodland, as befits a people's king:<br /></span> +<span>And thou meanwhile here abiding of all my goods shalt be free,<br /></span> +<span>And then shall we twain together roof over the glass-green sea<br /></span> +<span>With the sides of our golden dragons; and our war-hosts' blended shields<br /></span> +<span>Shall fright the sea-abiders and the folk of the fishy fields."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span><a name='Page_26'></a>Answered the smooth-speeched Siggeir: "I thank thee well for this,<br /></span> +<span>And thy bidding is most kingly; yet take it not amiss<br /></span> +<span>That I wend my ways in the morning; for we Goth-folk know indeed<br /></span> +<span>That the sea is a foe full deadly, and a friend that fails at need."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>And for all the words of Volsung e'en so must the matter be,<br /></span> +<span>And Siggeir the Goth and Signy on the morn shall sail the sea.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then the feast sped on the fairer, far into the night, but amidst the +mirth Sigmund and Signy were sad at heart. And before the sun was +risen next day Signy came to her father in secret and begged him to +stay in his own country rather than trust the guileful heart and +murder-loving hand of Siggeir. But Volsung answered that he must go +to be Siggeir's guest, for he could not break his pledged word +through fear of peril. So on the morrow the smooth-speeched Siggeir +departed with Signy, and when two months were passed Volsung made +ready to visit them.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>How the Volsungs fared to the Land of the Goths, and of the +fall of King Volsung.</i></p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +<span>So now, when all things were ready, in the first of the autumn tide<br /></span> +<span>Adown unto the swan-bath the Volsung Children ride;<br /></span> +<span>And lightly go a shipboard, a goodly company,<br /></span> +<span>Though the tale thereof be scanty and their ships no more than three:<br /></span> +<span>But kings' sons dealt with the sail-sheets and earls and dukes of war<br /></span> +<span>Were the halers of the hawsers and the tuggers at the oar.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But when the sun on the morrow shone over earth and sea<br /></span> +<span>Ashore went the Volsung Children a goodly company,<br /></span> +<span>And toward King Siggeir's dwelling o'er heath and holt they went.<br /></span> +<span>But when they came to the topmost of a certain grassy bent,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_27'></a>Lo there lay the land before them as thick with shield and spear<br /></span> +<span>As the rich man's wealthiest acre with the harvest of the year.<br /></span> +<span>There bade King Volsung tarry and dight the wedge-array;<br /></span> +<span>"For duly," he said, "doeth Siggeir to meet his guests by the way."<br /></span> +<span>So shield by shield they serried, nor ever hath been told<br /></span> +<span>Of any host of battle more glorious with the gold;<br /></span> +<span>And there stood the high King Volsung in the very front of war;<br /></span> +<span>And lovelier was his visage than ever heretofore,<br /></span> +<span>As he rent apart the peace-strings that his brand of battle bound<br /></span> +<span>And the bright blade gleamed to the heavens, and he cast the sheath to the ground.<br /></span> +<span>Then up the steep came the Goth-folk, and the spear-wood drew anigh,<br /></span> +<span>And earth's face shook beneath them, yet cried they never a cry;<br /></span> +<span>And the Volsungs stood all silent, although forsooth at whiles<br /></span> +<span>O'er the faces grown earth-weary would play the flickering smiles,<br /></span> +<span>And swords would clink and rattle: not long had they to bide,<br /></span> +<span>For soon that flood of murder flowed round the hillock-side;<br /></span> +<span>Then at last the edges mingled, and if men forbore the shout,<br /></span> +<span>Yet the din of steel and iron in the grey clouds rang about;<br /></span> +<span>But how to tell of King Volsung, and the valour of his folk!<br /></span> +<span>Three times the wood of battle before their edges broke;<br /></span> +<span>And the shield-wall, sorely dwindled and reft of the ruddy gold,<br /></span> +<span>Against the drift of the war-blast for the fourth time yet did hold.<br /></span> +<span>But men's shields were waxen heavy with the weight of shafts they bore,<br /></span> +<span>And the fifth time many a champion cast earthward Odin's door<br /></span> +<span>And gripped the sword two-handed; and in sheaves the spears came on.<br /></span> +<span>And at last the host of the Goth-folk within the shield-wall won,<br /></span> +<span>And wild was the work within it, and oft and o'er again<br /></span> +<span>Forth brake the sons of Volsung, and drave the foe in vain;<br /></span> +<span>For the driven throng still thickened, till it might not give aback.<br /></span> +<span>But fast abode King Volsung amid the shifting wrack<br /></span> +<span>In the place where once was the forefront: for he said: "My feet are old,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_28'></a>And if I wend on further there is nought more to behold<br /></span> +<span>Than this that I see about me."—Whiles drew his foes away<br /></span> +<span>And stared across the corpses that before his sword-edge lay.<br /></span> +<span>But nought he followed after: then needs must they in front<br /></span> +<span>Thrust on by the thickening spear-throng come up to bear the brunt,<br /></span> +<span>Till all his limbs were weary and his body rent and torn:<br /></span> +<span>Then he cried: "Lo now, Allfather, is not the swathe well shorn?<br /></span> +<span>Wouldst thou have me toil for ever, nor win the wages due?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>And mid the hedge of foemen his blunted sword he threw,<br /></span> +<span>And, laid like the oars of a longship the level war-shafts pressed<br /></span> +<span>On 'gainst the unshielded elder, and clashed amidst his breast;<br /></span> +<span>And dead he fell, thrust backward, and rang on the dead men's gear:<br /></span> +<span>But still for a certain season durst no man draw anear,<br /></span> +<span>For 'twas e'en as a great God's slaying, and they feared the wrath of the sky;<br /></span> +<span>And they deemed their hearts might harden if awhile they should let him lie.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of the ending of all Volsung's Sons save Sigmund only, and of how +he abideth in the wild wood.</i></p> + +<p>They joined battle again, but the fight grew feeble after Volsung +fell, and his earls were struck down one by one. Last of all, his sons +were borne to earth and carried captive to the hall, where Siggeir +awaited them, for he himself had feared to face the Volsung swords.</p> + +<p>Then he would have slain them at once without torture, but Signy +besought him that they might breathe the earthly air a day or two +before their death, and he listened to her, for he saw how he might +thus give them greater pain. He bade his men lead them to a glade in +the forest and fetter them to the mightiest tree that grew there. So +the ten Volsungs were fettered with iron to a great oak, and on the +morrow Siggeir's woodmen told him sweet tidings, <a name='Page_29'></a>for beasts of the +wood had devoured two and left their bones in the fetters. So it +befell every night till the woodmen brought word that nothing +remained of the king's foemen save their bones in the fetters that +had bound them.</p> + +<p>Now a watch had been set on Signy lest she should send help to her +brethren, but henceforth no man hindered her from going out to the +wood. So that night she came to the glade in the forest, and saw in +the midst of it a mighty man who was toiling to dig a grave in the +greensward.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>And behold, it was Sigmund the Volsung: but she cried and had no fear:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"If thou art living, Sigmund, what day's work dost thou here<br /></span> +<span>In the midnight and the forest? but if thou art nought but a ghost<br /></span> +<span>Then where are those Volsung brethren, of whom thou wert best and most?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then he turned about unto her, and his raiment was fouled and torn,<br /></span> +<span>And his eyen were great and hollow, as a famished man forlorn;<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But he cried: "Hail, Sister Signy! I looked for thee before,<br /></span> +<span>Though what should a woman compass, she one alone and no more,<br /></span> +<span>When all we shielded Volsungs did nought in Siggeir's land?<br /></span> +<span>O yea, I am living indeed, and this labour of mine hand<br /></span> +<span>Is to bury the bones of the Volsungs; and lo, it is well-nigh done.<br /></span> +<span>So draw near, Volsung's daughter, and pile we many a stone<br /></span> +<span>Where lie the grey wolf's gleanings of what was once so good."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So she set her hand to the labour, and they toiled, they twain in the wood,<br /></span> +<span>And when the work was over, dead night was beginning to fall:<br /></span> +<span>Then spake the white-hand Signy: "Now shall thou tell the tale<br /></span> +<span>Of the death of the Volsung brethren ere the wood thy wrath shall hide,<br /></span> +<span>Ere I wend me back sick-hearted in the dwelling of kings to abide."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><a name='Page_30'></a>Then said Sigmund:</p> + +<p>"We lay fettered to the tree and at midnight there came from the +thicket two mighty wood-wolves, and falling on my brethren Gylfi and +Geirmund, they devoured them in their bonds, and turned again to the +forest. Night after night, my sister, this befell, till I was left +alone with our brother Sigi to await the wood-beasts. Then came +midnight, and one of the wolves fell upon Sigi and the other turned +on me. But I met it with snarling like its own, and my teeth gripped +its throat, and my hands strove with the fetters till they burst. So +I slew the beast with my irons, but when I looked, Sigi lay dead, and +the other wolf had fled again to the thicket. Then I lay hid till +Siggeir's woodmen had looked on the place and departed with their +tidings, and as I beheld them I knew that pity was killed in my +heart, and that henceforward I should live but to avenge me on him +who hath so set the gods at nought." Then Signy spake noble words of +comfort, saying: "I wot well that Siggeir shall pay the due price of +his deeds, though the vengeance may tarry long, and I wot also that +thy life shall yet know gladness. Bear a stout heart, therefore, to +meet the waiting time, and make thee a lair in the woods whence thou +mayest fall on men of the Goth-folk, and win what thy life needeth. +As for me, I will see thy face once again ere many days are past to +wot where thou dwellest and then must we meet no more."</p> + +<p>And so saying, she kissed him and departed, but Sigmund turned in the +dawn-light, and sought a wood-lair as she had bidden him.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of the fostering of Sinfiotli, Signy's son, and of the slaying of +Siggeir the Goth-king.</i></p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>So wrought is the will of King Siggeir, and he weareth Odin's sword<br /></span> +<span>And it lies on his knees in the council and hath no other lord:<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_31'></a>And he sendeth earls o'er the sea-flood to take King Volsung's land,<br /></span> +<span>And those scattered and shepherdless sheep must come beneath his hand.<br /></span> +<span>And he holdeth the milk-white Signy as his handmaid and his wife,<br /></span> +<span>And nought but his will she doeth, nor raiseth a word of strife;<br /></span> +<span>So his heart is praising his wisdom, and he deems him of most avail<br /></span> +<span>Of all the lords of the cunning that teacheth how to prevail.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Now Sigmund dwelt long in the wild-wood, abiding in a strong cave deep +hidden in a thicket by the river-side.</p> + +<p>And now and again he fell upon the folk of Siggeir as they journeyed, +and slew them, and thus he had war-gear and gold as much as he would. +Also he became a master of masters in the smithying craft, and the +folk who beheld the gleam of his forge by night, deemed that a king +of the Giants was awakened from death to dwell there, and they durst +not wander near the cavern.</p> + +<p>So passed the years till on a springtide morning Signy sent forth to +Sigmund a damsel leading her eldest son, a child of ten summers, and +bearing a word of her mouth to bid him foster the child for his +helper, if he should prove worthy and bold-hearted. And Sigmund +heeded her words and fostered the child for the space of three months +even though he could give no love to a son of Siggeir.</p> + +<p>At last he was minded to try the boy's courage, to which end he set a +deadly ash-grey adder in the meal-sack, and bade the child bake bread. +But he feared when he found something that moved in the meal and had +not courage to do the task. Then would Sigmund foster him no longer, +but thrust him out from the woods to return to his father's hall.</p> + +<p>So ten years won over again, and Signy sent another son to the +wild-wood, and the lad was called Sinfiotli. Sigmund thrust him into +many dangers, and burdened him with heavy loads, and he bore all +passing well.</p> + +<p><a name='Page_32'></a>Now after a year Sigmund deemed that the time for his testing was +come, and once again he set an adder in the meal-sack and bade the +lad bake bread. And the boy feared not the worm, but kneaded it with +the dough and baked all together. So Sigmund cherished him as his own +son, and he grew strong and valiant and loved Sigmund as his father.</p> + +<p>Now Sigmund began to ponder how he might at last take vengeance on +Siggeir, and gladly did Sinfiotli hear him, for all his love was +given to Sigmund, so that he no longer deemed himself the Goth-king's +son.</p> + +<p>At last when the long mirk nights of winter were come, Sigmund and his +foster-son went their way to the home of Siggeir and sought to lurk +therein. Then Sinfiotli led the way to a storehouse where lay great +wine-casks, and whence they could see the lighted feast-hall, and +hear the clamour of Siggeir's folk. There they had to abide the time +when the feasters should be hushed in sleep. Long seemed the hours to +Sinfiotli, but Sigmund was calm and clear-eyed.</p> + +<p>Then it befell that two of Queen Signy's youngest-born children threw +a golden toy hither and thither in the feast-hall, and at last it +rolled away among the wine-casks till it lay at Sigmund's feet. So the +children followed it, and coming face to face with those lurkers, they +fled back to the feast-hall. And Sigmund and his foster-son saw all +hope was ended, for they heard the rising tumult as men ran to their +weapons; so they made ready to go forth and die in the hall. Then on +came the battle around the twain, and but short is the tale to tell, +for Sinfiotli slipped on the blood-stained floor and the shield wall +encompassed Sigmund, and so they were both hoppled strait and fast.</p> + +<p>The Goth-folk washed their hall of blood and got them to slumber, but +Siggeir lay long pondering what dire death he might bring on his foes.</p> + +<p><a name='Page_33'></a>Now at the first grey dawning Siggeir's folk dight a pit and it had +two chambers with a sundering stone in the midst. Then they brought +the Volsung kindred and set them therein, one in each chamber, that +they might abide death alone, and yet in hearing of one another's woe. +And over the top the thralls laid roofing turfs, but so lingering were +their hands that eve drew on ere the task was finished. Then stole +Signy forth in the dusk, and spake the thralls fair, and gave them +gold that they might hold their peace of what she did. And when they +gainsaid her nought she drew out something wrapped in wheat straw, and +cast it down swiftly into the pit where Sinfiotli lay, and departed.</p> + +<p>Sinfiotli at first deemed it food, but after a space Sigmund heard him +laugh aloud for joy, for within the wrappings lay the sword of the +Branstock. And Sinfiotli cried out the joyous tidings to his +foster-father, and tarried not to set the point to the stone that +sundered them, and lo, the blade pierced through, and Sigmund grasped +the point. Then sawed Sigmund and Sinfiotli together till they cleft +the stone, and they hewed full hard at the roofing, till they cast the +turfs aside, and their hearts were gladdened with the sight of the +starry heaven.</p> + +<p>Forth they leapt, and no words were needed of whither they should +wend, but they fell on King Siggeir's night-watch and slew them +sleeping, and made haste to find the store of winter faggots, +wherewith they built a mighty bale about the hall of Siggeir. They +set a torch to the bale, and Sigmund gat him to one hall door and +Sinfiotli to the other, and now the Goth-folk awoke to their last +of days.</p> + +<p>Then cried Siggeir to his thralls and offered them joyous life-days +and plenteous wealth if they would give him life, deeming that they +had fired the hall in hatred. But there came a great voice crying +from the door, "Nay, no toilers are we; wealth is ours when we list, +but now our hearts are set to avenge our kin; now <a name='Page_34'></a>hath the murder +seed sprung and borne its fruit; now the death-doomed and buried work +this deed; now doom draweth nigh thee at the hand of Sigmund the +Volsung, and Sinfiotli, Signy's son."</p> + +<p>Then the voice cried again, "Come ye forth, women of the Goths, and +thou, O Signy, my sister, come forth to seek the boughs of the +Branstock." So fled the white-faced women from the fire, and passed +scatheless by Sinfiotli's blade, but Signy came not at all. Then the +earls of Siggeir strove to burst from the hall, but ever the two +glaives at the doorways drove them back to the fire.</p> + +<p>And, lo, now came Signy in queenly raiment, and stood before Sinfiotli +and said, "O mightiest son, this is the hour of our parting, and fain +am I of slumber and the end of my toil now I have seen this day. And +the blither do I leave thee because thy days on earth shall be but +few; I charge thee make thy life glorious, and leave a goodly tale."</p> + +<p>She kissed him and turned to Sigmund, and her face in the dawn-light +seemed to him fair and ruddy as in the days when they twain dwelt by +the Branstock. And she said, "My youth was happy, yet this hour is +the crown of my life-days which draw nigh their ending. And now I +charge thee, Sigmund, when thou sittest once more a mighty king +beneath the boughs of the Branstock, that thou remember how I loved +the Volsung name, and spared not to spend all that was mine for its +blossoming." Then she kissed him and turned again, and the dawn +brightened at her back, and the fire shone red before her, and so for +the last time was Signy beheld by the eyes of men. Thereafter King +Siggeir's roof-tree bowed earthward, and the mighty walls crashed +down, and so that dark murder-hall lay wasted, and its glory was +swept away.</p> +<br /> + +<p><a name='Page_35'></a><i>How Sigmund cometh to the Land of the Volsungs again, and of the +death of Sinfiotli his Son.</i></p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now Sigmund the king bestirs him, and Sinfiotli, Sigmund's son,<br /></span> +<span>And they gather a host together, and many a mighty one;<br /></span> +<span>Then they set the ships in the sea-flood and sail from the stranger's shore,<br /></span> +<span>And the beaks of the golden dragons see the Volsungs' land once more;<br /></span> +<span>And men's hearts are fulfilled of joyance; and they cry, The sun shines now<br /></span> +<span>With never a curse to hide it, and they shall reap that sow!<br /></span> +<span>Then for many a day sits Sigmund 'neath the boughs of the Branstock green,<br /></span> +<span>With his earls and lords about him as the Volsung wont hath been.<br /></span> +<span>And oft he thinketh on Signy and oft he nameth her name,<br /></span> +<span>And tells how she spent her joyance and her life-days and her fame<br /></span> +<span>That the Volsung kin might blossom and bear the fruit of worth<br /></span> +<span>For the hope of unborn people and the harvest of the earth.<br /></span> +<span>And again he thinks of the word that he spake that other day,<br /></span> +<span>How he should abide there lonely when his kin was passed away,<br /></span> +<span>Their glory and sole avenger, their after-summer seed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But far and wide went Sinfiotli through the earth, mowing the war +swathe and wasting the land, and passing but little time in song and +laughter in his father's hall. So went his days in warfare and valour, +and yet his end was not glorious, for he drank of the poisoned cup +given him by the sister of a warrior he had rightly slain.</p> + +<p>None might come nigh Sigmund in his anguish as he lifted the head of +his fallen foster-child, and then swiftly bare him from the hall. On +he went through dark thicket and over wind-swept heath, past the +foot-hills and the homes of the deer, till he came to a great rushing +water, whereon was a white-sailed boat, manned by a mighty <a name='Page_36'></a>man, +"one-eyed and seeming ancient." This mighty one told Sigmund he had +been bidden to waft a great king over the water, and bade him lay his +burden on board, but when Sigmund would have followed he could see +neither ship nor man.</p> + +<p>But Sigmund went back to his throne, and behaved himself as a king, +listening to his people's plaints, and dealing out justice.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of the last battle of King Sigmund, and the death of him.</i></p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now there was a king of the Islands, whom the tale doth Eylimi call,<br /></span> +<span>And saith he was wise and valiant, though his kingdom were but small:<br /></span> +<span>He had one only daughter that Hiordis had to name,<br /></span> +<span>A woman wise and shapely beyond the praise of fame.<br /></span> +<span>And now saith the son of King Volsung that his time is short enow<br /></span> +<span>To labour the Volsung garden, and the hand must be set to the plough:<br /></span> +<span>So he sendeth an earl of the people to King Eylimi's high-built hall,<br /></span> +<span>Bearing the gifts and the tokens, and this word in his mouth withal:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"King Sigmund the son of Volsung hath sent me here with a word<br /></span> +<span>That plenteous good of thy daughter among all folk he hath heard,<br /></span> +<span>And he wooeth that wisest of women that she may sit on his throne.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Now hereof would he have an answer within a half-month's space,<br /></span> +<span>And these gifts meanwhile he giveth for the increase of thy grace."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So King Eylimi hearkened the message, and hath no word to say,<br /></span> +<span>For an earl of King Lyngi the mighty is come that very day,<br /></span> +<span>He too for the wooing of Hiordis: and Lyngi's realm is at hand,<br /></span> +<span>But afar King Sigmund abideth o'er many a sea and land:<br /></span> +<span>And the man is young and eager, and grim and guileful of mood.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span><a name='Page_37'></a>At last he sayeth: "Abide here such space as thou deemest good,<br /></span> +<span>But tomorn shalt thou have thine answer that thine heart may the lighter be,<br /></span> +<span>For the hearkening of harp and songcraft, and the dealing with game and glee."<br /></span> +<span>Then he went to Queen Hiordis' bower, where she worked in the silk and the gold<br /></span> +<span>The deeds of the world that should be, and the deeds that were of old.<br /></span> +<span>And he stood before her and said:<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Often have I told thee that thou shouldst wed only the man thou +wouldst. Now it hath come to pass that two kings desire thee."</p> + +<p>And she swiftly rose to her feet as she said, "And which be they?"</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>He spake: "The first is Lyngi, a valiant man and a fair,<br /></span> +<span>A neighbour ill for thy father, if a foe's name he must bear:<br /></span> +<span>And the next is King Sigmund the Volsung of a land far over sea,<br /></span> +<span>And well thou knowest his kindred, and his might and his valiancy,<br /></span> +<span>And the tales of his heart of a God; and though old he be waxen now,<br /></span> +<span>Yet men deem that the wide world's blossom from Sigmund's loins shall grow."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Said Hiordis: "I wot, my father, that hereof may strife arise;<br /></span> +<span>Yet soon spoken is mine answer; for I, who am called the wise,<br /></span> +<span>Shall I thrust by the praise of the people, and the tale that no ending hath,<br /></span> +<span>And the love and the heart of the godlike, and the heavenward-leading path,<br /></span> +<span>For the rose and the stem of the lily, and the smooth-lipped youngling's kiss,<br /></span> +<span>And the eyes' desire that passeth, and the frail unstable bliss?<br /></span> +<span>Now shalt thou tell King Sigmund, that I deem it the crown of my life<br /></span> +<span>To dwell in the house of his fathers amidst all peace and strife."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span><a name='Page_38'></a>Now the king's heart sore misgave him, but herewith must he be content,<br /></span> +<span>And great gifts to the earl of Lyngi and a word withal he sent,<br /></span> +<span>That the woman's troth was plighted to another people's king.<br /></span> +<span>But King Sigmund's earl on the morrow hath joyful yea-saying,<br /></span> +<span>And ere two moons be perished he shall fetch his bride away.<br /></span> +<span>"And bid him," King Eylimi sayeth, "to come with no small array,<br /></span> +<span>But with sword and shield and war-shaft, lest aught of ill betide."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So forth goes the earl of Sigmund across the sea-flood wide,<br /></span> +<span>And comes to the land of the Volsungs, and meeteth Sigmund the king,<br /></span> +<span>And tells how he sped on his errand, and the joyful yea-saying.<br /></span> +<span>So King Sigmund maketh him ready, and they ride adown to the sea<br /></span> +<span>All glorious of gear and raiment, and a goodly company.<br /></span> +<span>Yet hath Sigmund thought of his father, and the deed he wrought before,<br /></span> +<span>And hath scorn to gather his people and all his hosts of war<br /></span> +<span>To wend to the feast and the wedding: yet are their long-ships ten,<br /></span> +<span>And the shielded folk aboard them are the mightiest men of men.<br /></span> +<span>So Sigmund goeth a shipboard, and they hoist their sails to the wind,<br /></span> +<span>And the beaks of the golden dragons leave the Volsungs' land behind.<br /></span> +<span>Then come they to Eylimi's kingdom, and good welcome have they there,<br /></span> +<span>And when Sigmund looked on Hiordis, he deemed her wise and fair.<br /></span> +<span>But her heart was exceeding fain when she saw the glorious king,<br /></span> +<span>And it told her of times that should be full many a noble thing.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So there is Sigmund wedded at a great and goodly feast,<br /></span> +<span>And day by day on Hiordis the joy of her heart increased;<br /></span> +<span>And her father joyed in Sigmund and his might and majesty,<br /></span> +<span>And dead in the heart of the Isle-king his ancient fear did lie.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span><a name='Page_39'></a>Yet, forsooth, had men looked seaward, they had seen the gathering cloud,<br /></span> +<span>And the little wind arising, that should one day pipe so loud.<br /></span> +<span>For well may ye wot indeed that King Lyngi the Mighty is wroth,<br /></span> +<span>When he getteth the gifts and the answer, and that tale of the woman's troth:<br /></span> +<span>And he saith he will have the gifts and the woman herself withal,<br /></span> +<span>Either for loving or hating, and that both those heads shall fall.<br /></span> +<span>So now when Sigmund and Hiordis are wedded a month or more,<br /></span> +<span>And the Volsung bids men dight them to cross the sea-flood o'er,<br /></span> +<span>Lo, how there cometh the tidings of measureless mighty hosts<br /></span> +<span>Who are gotten ashore from their long-ships on the skirts of King Eylimi's coasts.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Sore boded the heart of the Isle-king of what the end should be.<br /></span> +<span>But Sigmund long beheld him, and he said: "Thou deem'st of me<br /></span> +<span>That my coming hath brought thee evil; but put aside such things;<br /></span> +<span>For long have I lived, and I know it, that the lives of mighty kings<br /></span> +<span>Are not cast away, nor drifted like the down before the wind;<br /></span> +<span>And surely I know, who say it, that never would Hiordis' mind<br /></span> +<span>Have been turned to wed King Lyngi or aught but the Volsung seed.<br /></span> +<span>Come, go we forth to the battle, that shall be the latest deed<br /></span> +<span>Of thee and me meseemeth: yea, whether thou live or die,<br /></span> +<span>No more shall the brand of Odin at peace in his scabbard lie."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>And therewith he brake the peace-strings and drew the blade of bale,<br /></span> +<span>And Death on the point abided, Fear sat on the edges pale.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So men ride adown to the sea-strand, and the kings their hosts array<br /></span> +<span>When the high noon flooded heaven; and the men of the Volsungs lay,<br /></span> +<span>With King Eylimi's shielded champions mid Lyngi's hosts of war,<br /></span> +<span>As the brown pips lie in the apple when ye cut it through the core.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But now when the kings were departed, from the King's house Hiordis went,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_40'></a>And before men joined the battle she came to a woody bent,<br /></span> +<span>Where she lay with one of her maidens the death and the deeds to behold.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>In the noon sun shone King Sigmund as an image all of gold,<br /></span> +<span>And he stood before the foremost and the banner of his fame,<br /></span> +<span>And many a thing he remembered, and he called on each earl by his name<br /></span> +<span>To do well for the house of the Volsungs, and the ages yet unborn.<br /></span> +<span>Then he tossed up the sword of the Branstock, and blew on his father's horn,<br /></span> +<span>Dread of so many a battle, doom-song of so many a man.<br /></span> +<span>Then all the earth seemed moving as the hosts of Lyngi ran<br /></span> +<span>On the Volsung men and the Isle-folk like wolves upon the prey;<br /></span> +<span>But sore was their labour and toil ere the end of their harvesting day.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>On went the Volsung banners, and on went Sigmund before,<br /></span> +<span>And his sword was the flail of the tiller on the wheat of the wheat-thrashing floor,<br /></span> +<span>And his shield was rent from his arm, and his helm was sheared from his head:<br /></span> +<span>But who may draw nigh him to smite for the heap and the rampart of dead?<br /></span> +<span>White went his hair on the wind like the ragged drift of the cloud,<br /></span> +<span>And his dust-driven, blood-beaten harness was the death-storm's angry shroud,<br /></span> +<span>When the summer sun is departing in the first of the night of wrack;<br /></span> +<span>And his sword was the cleaving lightning, that smites and is hurried aback<br /></span> +<span>Ere the hand may rise against it; and his voice was the following thunder.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then cold grew the battle before him, dead-chilled with the fear and the wonder:<br /></span> +<span>For again in his ancient eyes the light of victory gleamed;<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_41'></a>From his mouth grown tuneful and sweet the song of his kindred streamed;<br /></span> +<span>And no more was he worn and weary, and no more his life seemed spent:<br /></span> +<span>And with all the hope of his childhood was his wrath of battle blent;<br /></span> +<span>And he thought: A little further, and the river of strife is passed,<br /></span> +<span>And I shall sit triumphant the king of the world at last.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But lo, through the hedge of the war-shafts a mighty man there came,<br /></span> +<span>One-eyed and seeming ancient, but his visage shone like flame:<br /></span> +<span>Gleaming-grey was his kirtle, and his hood was cloudy blue;<br /></span> +<span>And he bore a mighty twi-bill, as he waded the fight-sheaves through,<br /></span> +<span>And stood face to face with Sigmund, and upheaved the bill to smite.<br /></span> +<span>Once more round the head of the Volsung fierce glittered the Branstock's light,<br /></span> +<span>The sword that came from Odin; and Sigmund's cry once more<br /></span> +<span>Rang out to the very heavens above the din of war.<br /></span> +<span>Then clashed the meeting edges with Sigmund's latest stroke,<br /></span> +<span>And in shivering shards fell earthward that fear of worldly folk.<br /></span> +<span>But changed were the eyes of Sigmund, and the war-wrath left his face;<br /></span> +<span>For that grey-clad mighty helper was gone, and in his place<br /></span> +<span>Drave on the unbroken spear-wood 'gainst the Volsung's empty hands:<br /></span> +<span>And there they smote down Sigmund, the wonder of all lands,<br /></span> +<span>On the foemen, on the death-heap his deeds had piled that day.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Ill hour for Sigmund's fellows! they fall like the seeded hay<br /></span> +<span>Before the brown scythes' sweeping, and there the Isle-king fell<br /></span> +<span>In the fore-front of his battle, wherein he wrought right well,<br /></span> +<span>And soon they were nought but foemen who stand upon their feet<br /></span> +<span>On the isle-strand by the ocean where the grass and the sea-sand meet.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>And now hath the conquering War-king another deed to do,<br /></span> +<span>And he saith: "Who now gainsayeth King Lyngi come to woo,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_42'></a>The lord and the overcomer and the bane of the Volsung kin?"<br /></span> +<span>So he fares to the Isle-king's dwelling a wife of the kings to win;<br /></span> +<span>And the host is gathered together, and they leave the field of the dead;<br /></span> +<span>And round as a targe of the Goth-folk the moon ariseth red.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>And so when the last is departed, and she deems they will come not aback,<br /></span> +<span>Fares Hiordis forth from the thicket to the field of the fateful wrack,<br /></span> +<span>And half-dead was her heart for sorrow as she waded the swathes of the sword.<br /></span> +<span>Not far did she search the death-field ere she found her king and lord<br /></span> +<span>On the heap that his glaive had fashioned: not yet was his spirit past,<br /></span> +<span>Though his hurts were many and grievous, and his life-blood ebbing fast;<br /></span> +<span>And glad were his eyes and open as her wan face over him hung,<br /></span> +<span>And he spake:<br /></span> +<span class='i4'>"Thou art sick with sorrow, and I would thou wert not so young;<br /></span> +<span>Yet as my days passed shall thine pass; and a short while now it seems<br /></span> +<span>Since my hand first gripped the sword-hilt, and my glory was but in dreams."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>She said: "Thou livest, thou livest! the leeches shall heal thee still."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Nay," said he, "my heart hath hearkened to Odin's bidding and will;<br /></span> +<span>For today have mine eyes beheld him: nay, he needed not to speak:<br /></span> +<span>Forsooth I knew of his message and the thing he came to seek.<br /></span> +<span>And now do I live but to tell thee of the days that are yet to come:<br /></span> +<span>And perchance to solace thy sorrow; and then will I get me home<br /></span> +<span>To my kin that are gone before me. Lo, yonder where I stood<br /></span> +<span>The shards of a glaive of battle that was once the best of the good:<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_43'></a>Take them and keep them surely. I have lived no empty days;<br /></span> +<span>The Norns were my nursing mothers; I have won the people's praise.<br /></span> +<span>When the Gods for one deed asked me I ever gave them twain;<br /></span> +<span>Spendthrift of glory I was, and great was my life-days' gain;<br /></span> +<span>Now these shards have been my fellow in the work the Gods would have,<br /></span> +<span>But today hath Odin taken the gift that once he gave.<br /></span> +<span>I have wrought for the Volsungs truly, and yet have I known full well<br /></span> +<span>That a better one than I am shall bear the tale to tell:<br /></span> +<span>And for him shall these shards be smithied; and he shall be my son<br /></span> +<span>To remember what I have forgotten and to do what I left undone."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then failed the voice of Sigmund; but so mighty was the man,<br /></span> +<span>That a long while yet he lingered till the dusky night grew wan,<br /></span> +<span>And she sat and sorrowed o'er him, but no more a word he spake.<br /></span> +<span>Then a long way over the sea-flood the day began to break;<br /></span> +<span>And when the sun was arisen a little he turned his head<br /></span> +<span>Till the low beams bathed his eyen, and there lay Sigmund dead.<br /></span> +<span>And the sun rose up on the earth; but where was the Volsung kin<br /></span> +<span>And the folk that the Gods had begotten the praise of all people to win?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p><i>How King Sigmund the Volsung was laid in mound on the sea-side +of the Isle-realm.</i></p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now Hiordis looked from the dead, and her eyes strayed down to the sea,<br /></span> +<span>And a shielded ship she saw, and a war-dight company,<br /></span> +<span>Who beached the ship for the landing: so swift she fled away,<br /></span> +<span>And once more to the depth of the thicket, wherein her handmaid lay:<br /></span> +<span>And she said: "I have left my lord, and my lord is dead and gone,<br /></span> +<span>And he gave me a charge full heavy, and here are we twain alone,<br /></span> +<span>And earls from the sea are landing: give me thy blue attire,<br /></span> +<span>And take my purple and gold and my crown of the sea-flood's fire,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_44'></a>And be thou the wife of King Volsung when men of our names shall ask,<br /></span> +<span>And I will be the handmaid: now I bid thee to this task,<br /></span> +<span>And I pray thee not to fail me, because of thy faith and truth,<br /></span> +<span>And because I have ever loved thee, and thy mother fostered my youth."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So the other nought gainsaith it and they shift their raiment there:<br /></span> +<span>But well-spoken was the maiden, and a woman tall and fair.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now the lord of those new-coming men was a king and the son of a king,<br /></span> +<span>King Elf the son of the Helper, and he sailed from warfaring<br /></span> +<span>And drew anigh to the Isle-realm and sailed along the strand;<br /></span> +<span>For the shipmen needed water and fain would go a-land;<br /></span> +<span>And King Elf stood hard by the tiller while the world was yet a-cold:<br /></span> +<span>Then the red sun lit the dawning, and they looked, and lo, behold!<br /></span> +<span>The wrack of a mighty battle, and heaps of the shielded dead,<br /></span> +<span>And a woman alive amidst them, a queen with crownèd head,<br /></span> +<span>And her eyes strayed down to the sea-strand, and she saw that weaponed folk,<br /></span> +<span>And turned and fled to the thicket: then the lord of the shipmen spoke:<br /></span> +<span>"Lo, here shall we lack for water, for the brooks with blood shall run,<br /></span> +<span>Yet wend we ashore to behold it and to wot of the deeds late done."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So they turned their faces to Sigmund, and waded the swathes of the sword.<br /></span> +<span>"O, look ye long," said the Sea-king, "for here lieth a mighty lord:<br /></span> +<span>And all these are the deeds of his war-flame, yet hardy hearts, be sure,<br /></span> +<span>That they once durst look in his face or the wrath of his eyen endure;<br /></span> +<span>Though his lips be glad and smiling as a God that dreameth of mirth.<br /></span> +<span>Would God I were one of his kindred, for none such are left upon earth.<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_45'></a>Now fare we into the thicket, for thereto is the woman fled,<br /></span> +<span>And belike she shall tell us the story of this field of the mighty dead."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So they wend and find the women, and bespeak them kind and fair:<br /></span> +<span>Then spake the gold-crowned handmaid: "Of the Isle-king's house we were,<br /></span> +<span>And I am the Queen called Hiordis; and the man that lies on the field<br /></span> +<span>Was mine own lord Sigmund the Volsung, the mightiest under shield."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then all amazed were the sea-folk when they hearkened to that word,<br /></span> +<span>And great and heavy tidings they deem their ears have heard:<br /></span> +<span>But again spake out the Sea-king: "And this blue-clad one beside,<br /></span> +<span>So pale, and as tall as a Goddess, and white and lovely eyed?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"In sooth and in troth," said the woman, "my serving-maid is this;<br /></span> +<span>She hath wept long over the battle, and sore afraid she is."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now the king looks hard upon her, but he saith no word thereto,<br /></span> +<span>And down again to the death-field with the women-folk they go.<br /></span> +<span>There they set their hands to the labour, and amidst the deadly mead<br /></span> +<span>They raise a mound for Sigmund, a mighty house indeed;<br /></span> +<span>And therein they set that folk-king, and goodly was his throne,<br /></span> +<span>And dight with gold and scarlet: and the walls of the house were done<br /></span> +<span>With the cloven shields of the foemen, and banners borne to field;<br /></span> +<span>But none might find his war-helm or the splinters of his shield,<br /></span> +<span>And clenched and fast was his right hand, but no sword therein he had:<br /></span> +<span>For Hiordis spake to the shipmen:<br /></span> +<span class='i12'>"Our lord and master bade<br /></span> +<span>That the shards of his glaive of battle should go with our lady the Queen:<br /></span> +<span>And by them that lie a-dying a many things are seen."<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p><a name='Page_46'></a><i>How Queen Hiordis is known; and how she abideth in the house of +Elf the son of the Helper.</i></p> + +<p>Then Elf asked of the two women where they would go, and they prayed +that he would take them to his land, where they dwelt for long in all +honour.</p> + +<p>But the old queen, the mother of Elf, was indeed a woman wise above +many, and fain would she know why the less noble of the two was +dressed the more richly and why the handmaid gave always wiser +counsel than her mistress. So she bade her son to speak suddenly and +to take them unawares.</p> + +<p>Then he asked the gold-clad one how she knew in the dark winter night +that the dawn was near. She answered that ever in her youth she awoke +at the dawn to follow her daily work, and always was she wont to +drink of whey, and now, though the times were changed, she still woke +athirst near the dawning.</p> + +<p>To Elf it seemed strange that a fair queen in her youth had need to +arise to follow the plough in the dark of the winter morning, and +turning to the handmaid he asked of her the same question. She +replied that in her youth her father had given her the gold ring she +still wore, and which had the magic power of growing cold as the +hours neared daybreak, and such was her dawning sign.</p> + +<p>Then did Elf know of their exchange, and he told Hiordis that long +had he loved her and felt pity for her sorrow, and that he would make +her his wife. So that night she sat on the high-seat with the crown +on her head, and dreamt of what had been and what was to be.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>So passeth the summer season, and the harvest of the year,<br /></span> +<span>And the latter days of the winter on toward the springtide wear.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='BOOK_II'></a><h2><a name='Page_47'></a>BOOK II.</h2> + +<h3>REGIN.</h3> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of the birth of Sigurd the son of Sigmund</i>.</p> + + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>Peace lay on the land of the Helper and the house of Elf his son;<br /></span> +<span>There merry men went bedward when their tide of toil was done,<br /></span> +<span>And glad was the dawn's awakening, and the noontide fair and glad:<br /></span> +<span>There no great store had the franklin, and enough the hireling had;<br /></span> +<span>And a child might go unguarded the length and breadth of the land<br /></span> +<span>With a purse of gold at his girdle and gold rings on his hand.<br /></span> +<span>'Twas a country of cunning craftsmen, and many a thing they wrought,<br /></span> +<span>That the lands of storm desired, and the homes of warfare sought.<br /></span> +<span>But men deemed it o'er-well warded by more than its stems of fight,<br /></span> +<span>And told how its earth-born watchers yet lived of plenteous might.<br /></span> +<span>So hidden was that country, and few men sailed its sea,<br /></span> +<span>And none came o'er its mountains of men-folk's company.<br /></span> +<span>But fair-fruited, many-peopled, it lies a goodly strip,<br /></span> +<span>'Twixt the mountains cloudy-headed and the sea-flood's surging lip,<br /></span> +<span>And a perilous flood is its ocean, and its mountains, who shall tell<br /></span> +<span>What things, in their dales deserted and their wind-swept heaths may dwell.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Again, in the house of the Helper there dwelt a certain man<br /></span> +<span>Beardless and low of stature, of visage pinched and wan:<br /></span> +<span>So exceeding old was Regin, that no son of man could tell<br /></span> +<span>In what year of the days passed over he came to that land to dwell:<br /></span> +<span>But the youth of King Elf had he fostered, and the Helper's youth thereto,<br /></span> +<span>Yea and his father's father's: the lore of all men he knew,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_48'></a>And was deft in every cunning, save the dealings of the sword:<br /></span> +<span>So sweet was his tongue-speech fashioned, that men trowed his every word;<br /></span> +<span>His hand with the harp-strings blended was the mingler of delight<br /></span> +<span>With the latter days of sorrow; all tales he told aright;<br /></span> +<span>The Master of the Masters in the smithying craft was he;<br /></span> +<span>And he dealt with the wind and the weather and the stilling of the sea;<br /></span> +<span>Nor might any learn him leech-craft, for before that race was made,<br /></span> +<span>And that man-folk's generation, all their life-days had he weighed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In this land of the Helper and Elf, his son, dwelt Hiordis, and here +her son, the last of the Volsungs, was born. The babe had eyes of +such wondrous brightness that the folk shrank from him, while they +rejoiced over his birth, but his mother spake to the babe as to one +who might understand, and she told him of Sigmund and Volsung, of +their wars and their troubles and their joys. Then she gave him to +her maids to bear him to the kings of the land that they might +rejoice with her.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>But there sat the Helper of Men with King Elf and his Earls in the hall,<br /></span> +<span>And they spake of the deeds that had been, and told of the times to befall,<br /></span> +<span>And they hearkened and heard sweet voices and the sound of harps draw nigh,<br /></span> +<span>Till their hearts were exceeding merry and they knew not wherefore or why:<br /></span> +<span>Then, lo, in the hall white raiment, as thither the damsels came,<br /></span> +<span>And amid the hands of the foremost was the woven gold aflame.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"O daughters of earls," said the Helper, "what tidings then do ye bear?<br /></span> +<span>Is it grief in the merry morning, or joy or wonder or fear?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Quoth the first: "It is grief for the foemen that the Masters of God-home would grieve."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span><a name='Page_49'></a>Said the next: "'Tis a wonder of wonders, that the hearkening world shall believe."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"A fear of all fears," said the third, "for the sword is uplifted on men."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"A joy of all joys," said the fourth, "once come, and it comes not again!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"What then hath betid," said King Elf, "do the high Gods stand in our gate?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Nay," said they, "else were we silent, and they should be telling of fate."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Is the bidding come," said the Helper, "that we wend the Gods to see?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Many summers and winters," they said, "ye shall live on the earth, it may be."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Speak then," said the ancient Helper, "let the worst and the best be said."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>They said: "The earth is weary: but the tender blade hath sprung,<br /></span> +<span>That shall wax till beneath its branches fair bloom the meadows green;<br /></span> +<span>For the Gods and they that were mighty were glad erewhile with the Queen."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Said King Elf: "How say ye, women? Of a King new-born do ye tell,<br /></span> +<span>By a God of the Heavens begotten in our fathers' house to dwell?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"By a God of the Earth," they answered; "but greater yet is the son,<br /></span> +<span>Though long were the days of Sigmund, and great are the deeds he hath done."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span><a name='Page_50'></a>Then she with the golden burden to the kingly high-seat stepped<br /></span> +<span>And away from the new-born baby the purple cloths she swept,<br /></span> +<span>And cried: "O King of the people, long mayst thou live in bliss,<br /></span> +<span>As our hearts today are happy! Queen Hiordis sends thee this,<br /></span> +<span>And she saith that the world shall call it by the name that thou shalt name;<br /></span> +<span>Now the gift to thee is given, and to thee is brought the fame."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then e'en as a man astonied King Elf the Volsung took,<br /></span> +<span>While his feast-hall's ancient timbers with the cry of the earl-folk shook;<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>With the love of many peoples was the wise king smitten through,<br /></span> +<span>As he hung o'er the new-born Volsung: but at last he raised his head,<br /></span> +<span>And looked forth kind o'er his people, and spake aloud and said:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"O Sigmund King of Battle; O man of many days,<br /></span> +<span>Whom I saw mid the shields of the fallen and the dead men's silent praise,<br /></span> +<span>Lo, how hath the dark tide perished and the dawn of day begun!<br /></span> +<span>And now, O mighty Sigmund, wherewith shall we name thy son?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But there rose up a man most ancient, and he cried: "Hail Dawn of the Day!<br /></span> +<span>How many things shalt thou quicken, how many shalt thou slay!<br /></span> +<span>How many things shalt thou waken, how many lull to sleep!<br /></span> +<span>How many things shalt thou scatter, how many gather and keep!<br /></span> +<span>O me, how thy love shall cherish, how thine hate shall wither and burn!<br /></span> +<span>How the hope shall be sped from thy right hand, nor the fear to thy left return!<br /></span> +<span>O thy deeds that men shall sing of! O thy deeds that the Gods shall see!<br /></span> +<span>O SIGURD, Son of the Volsungs, O Victory yet to be!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'><a name='Page_51'></a> +<span>Men heard the name and they knew it, and they caught it up in the air,<br /></span> +<span>And it went abroad by the windows and the doors of the feast-hall fair,<br /></span> +<span>It went through street and market; o'er meadow and acre it went,<br /></span> +<span>And over the wind-stirred forest and the dearth of the sea-beat bent,<br /></span> +<span>And over the sea-flood's welter, till the folk of the fishers heard,<br /></span> +<span>And the hearts of the isle-abiders on the sun-scorched rocks were stirred.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div></div> + +<p><i>Sigurd getteth to him the horse that is called Greyfell.</i></p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now waxeth the son of Sigmund in might and goodliness,<br /></span> +<span>And soft the days win over, and all men his beauty bless.<br /></span> +<span>But amidst the summer season was the Isle-queen Hiordis wed<br /></span> +<span>To King Elf the son of the Helper, and fair their life-days sped.<br /></span> +<span>Peace lay on the land for ever, and the fields gave good increase,<br /></span> +<span>And there was Sigurd waxing mid the plenty and the peace.<br /></span> +<span>Now hath the child grown greater, and is keen and eager of wit<br /></span> +<span>And full of understanding, and oft hath he joy to sit<br /></span> +<span>Amid talk of weighty matters when the wise men meet for speech;<br /></span> +<span>And joyous he is moreover and blithe and kind with each.<br /></span> +<span>But Regin the wise craftsmaster heedeth the youngling well,<br /></span> +<span>And before the Kings he cometh, and saith such words to tell.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"I have fostered thy youth, King Elf, and thine O Helper of men,<br /></span> +<span>And ye wot that such a master no king shall see again;<br /></span> +<span>And now would I foster Sigurd; for, though he be none of thy blood,<br /></span> +<span>Mine heart of his days that shall be speaketh abundant good."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then spake the Helper of men-folk: "Yea, do herein thy will:<br /></span> +<span>For thou art the Master of Masters, and hast learned me all my skill:<br /></span> +<span>But think how bright is this youngling, and thy guile from him withhold;<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_52'></a>For this craft of thine hath shown me that thy heart is grim and cold,<br /></span> +<span>Though three men's lives thrice over thy wisdom might not learn;<br /></span> +<span>And I love this son of Sigmund, and mine heart to him doth yearn."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Regin laughed, and answered: "I doled out cunning to thee;<br /></span> +<span>But nought with him will I measure: yet no cold-heart shall he be,<br /></span> +<span>Nor grim, nor evil-natured: for whate'er my will might frame,<br /></span> +<span>Gone forth is the word of the Norns, that abideth ever the same.<br /></span> +<span>And now, despite my cunning, how deem ye I shall die?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>And they said he would live as he listed, and at last in peace should lie<br /></span> +<span>When he listed to live no longer; so mighty and wise he was.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But again he laughed and answered: "One day it shall come to pass,<br /></span> +<span>That a beardless youth shall slay me: I know the fateful doom;<br /></span> +<span>But nought may I withstand it, as it heaves up dim through the gloom."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So is Sigurd now with Regin, and he learns him many things;<br /></span> +<span>Yea, all save the craft of battle, that men learned the sons of kings:<br /></span> +<span>The smithying sword and war-coat; the carving runes aright;<br /></span> +<span>The tongues of many countries, and soft speech for men's delight;<br /></span> +<span>The dealing with the harp-strings, and the winding ways of song.<br /></span> +<span>So wise of heart waxed Sigurd, and of body wondrous strong:<br /></span> +<span>And he chased the deer of the forest, and many a wood-wolf slew,<br /></span> +<span>And many a bull of the mountains: and the desert dales he knew,<br /></span> +<span>And the heaths that the wind sweeps over; and seaward would he fare,<br /></span> +<span>Far out from the outer skerries, and alone the sea-wights dare.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>One day did Regin tell Sigurd of deeds done in the past by kings both +bold and wise, and the lad longed, too, to do the like, and his +bright eyes glowed with desire. And Regin told him that he should +follow his Volsung fathers and roam far and wide, leaving the +peace-lovers and home-abiders who had cherished his youth.</p> + +<p><a name='Page_53'></a>This roused Sigurd's wrath, for he would have nought said against +those who had reared him, but Regin bade him ask for one of the +horses of Gripir, and banished his anger by a song of the deeds of +the Choosers of the Slain. Before the song was finished Sigurd went +to King Elf and asked that he might have authority to seek a horse +from King Gripir.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then smiled King Elf, and answered: "A long way wilt thou ride,<br /></span> +<span>To where unpeace and troubles and the griefs of the soul abide,<br /></span> +<span>Yea unto the death at the last: yet surely shall thou win<br /></span> +<span>The praise of many a people: so have thy way herein.<br /></span> +<span>Forsooth no more may we hold thee than the hazel copse may hold<br /></span> +<span>The sun of the early dawning, that turneth it all unto gold."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then sweetly Sigurd thanked them; and through the night he lay<br /></span> +<span>Mid dreams of many a matter till the dawn was on the way;<br /></span> +<span>Then he shook the sleep from off him, and that dwelling of Kings he left<br /></span> +<span>And wended his ways unto Gripir. On a crag from the mountain reft<br /></span> +<span>Was the house of the old King builded; and a mighty house it was,<br /></span> +<span>Though few were the sons of men that over its threshold would pass:<br /></span> +<span>But the wild ernes cried about it, and the vultures toward it flew,<br /></span> +<span>And the winds from the heart of the mountains searched every chamber through,<br /></span> +<span>And about were meads wide-spreading; and many a beast thereon,<br /></span> +<span>Yea some that are men-folk's terror, their sport and pasture won.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So into the hall went Sigurd; and amidst was Gripir set<br /></span> +<span>In a chair of the sea-beast's tooth; and his sweeping beard nigh met<br /></span> +<span>The floor that was green as the ocean, and his gown was of mountain-gold,<br /></span> +<span>And the kingly staff in his hand was knobbed with the crystal cold.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span><a name='Page_54'></a>Now the first of the twain spake Gripir: "Hail King with the eyen bright!<br /></span> +<span>Nought needest thou show the token, for I know of thy life and thy light.<br /></span> +<span>And no need to tell of thy message; it was wafted here on the wind,<br /></span> +<span>That thou wouldst be coming today a horse in my meadow to find:<br /></span> +<span>And strong must he be for the bearing of those deeds of thine that shall be.<br /></span> +<span>Now choose thou of all the way-wearers that are running loose in my lea."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then again gat Sigurd outward, and adown the steep he ran<br /></span> +<span>And unto the horse-fed meadow: but lo, a grey-clad man,<br /></span> +<span>One-eyed and seeming ancient, there met him by the way:<br /></span> +<span>And he spake: "Thou hastest, Sigurd; yet tarry till I say<br /></span> +<span>A word that shall well bestead thee: for I know of these mountains well<br /></span> +<span>And all the lea of Gripir, and the beasts that thereon dwell."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Wouldst thou have red gold for thy tidings? art thou Gripir's horse-herd then?<br /></span> +<span>Nay sure, for thy face is shining like the battle-eager men<br /></span> +<span>My master Regin tells of: and I love thy cloud-grey gown,<br /></span> +<span>And thy visage gleams above it like a thing my dreams have known."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Nay whiles have I heeded the horse-kind," then spake that elder of days,<br /></span> +<span>"And sooth do the sages say, when the beasts of my breeding they praise.<br /></span> +<span>There is one thereof in the meadow, and, wouldst thou cull him out,<br /></span> +<span>Thou shalt follow an elder's counsel, who hath brought strange things about,<br /></span> +<span>Who hath known thy father aforetime, and other kings of thy kin."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So Sigurd said, "I am ready; and what is the deed to win?"<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_55'></a>He said: "We shall drive the horses adown to the water-side,<br /></span> +<span>That cometh forth from the mountains, and note what next shall betide."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then the twain sped on together, and they drave the horses on<br /></span> +<span>Till they came to a rushing river, a water wide and wan;<br /></span> +<span>And the white mews hovered o'er it; but none might hear their cry<br /></span> +<span>For the rush and the rattle of waters, as the downlong flood swept by.<br /></span> +<span>So the whole herd took the river and strove the stream to stem,<br /></span> +<span>And many a brave steed was there; but the flood o'ermastered them:<br /></span> +<span>And some, it swept them down-ward, and some won back to bank,<br /></span> +<span>Some, caught by the net of the eddies, in the swirling hubbub sank;<br /></span> +<span>But one of all swam over, and they saw his mane of grey<br /></span> +<span>Toss over the flowery meadows, a bright thing far away:<br /></span> +<span>Wide then he wheeled about them, then took the stream again<br /></span> +<span>And with the waves' white horses mingled his cloudy mane.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then spake the elder of days: "Hearken now, Sigurd, and hear;<br /></span> +<span>Time was when I gave thy father a gift thou shalt yet deem dear,<br /></span> +<span>And this horse is a gift of my giving:—heed nought where thou mayst ride:<br /></span> +<span>For I have seen thy fathers in a shining house abide,<br /></span> +<span>And on earth they thought of its threshold, and the gifts I had to give;<br /></span> +<span>Nor prayed for a little longer, and a little longer to live."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then forth he strode to the mountains, and fain was Sigurd now.<br /></span> +<span>To ask him many a matter: but dim did his bright shape grow,<br /></span> +<span>As a man from the litten doorway fades into the dusk of night;<br /></span> +<span>And the sun in the high-noon shone, and the world was exceeding bright.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So Sigurd turned to the river and stood by the wave-wet strand,<br /></span> +<span>And the grey horse swims to his feet and lightly leaps aland,<br /></span> +<span>And the youngling looks upon him, and deems none beside him good.<br /></span> +<span>And indeed, as tells the story, he was come of Sleipnir's blood,<br /></span> +<span>The tireless horse of Odin: cloud-grey he was of hue,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_56'></a>And it seemed as Sigurd backed him that Sigmund's son he knew,<br /></span> +<span>So glad he went beneath him. Then the youngling's song arose<br /></span> +<span>As he brushed through the noontide blossoms of Gripir's mighty close,<br /></span> +<span>Then he singeth the song of Greyfell, the horse that Odin gave,<br /></span> +<span>Who swam through the sweeping river, and back through the toppling wave.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p><i>Regin telleth Sigurd of his kindred, and of the Gold that was +accursed from ancient days.</i></p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now yet the days pass over, and more than words may tell<br /></span> +<span>Grows Sigurd strong and lovely, and all children love him well.<br /></span> +<span>But oft he looks on the mountains and many a time is fain<br /></span> +<span>To know of what lies beyond them, and learn of the wide world's gain.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now again it happed on a day that he sat in Regin's hall<br /></span> +<span>And hearkened many tidings of what had chanced to fall,<br /></span> +<span>And of kings that sought their kingdoms o'er many a waste and wild,<br /></span> +<span>And at last saith the crafty master:<br /></span> +<span class='i12'>"Thou art King Sigmund's child:<br /></span> +<span>Wilt thou wait till these kings of the carles shall die in a little land,<br /></span> +<span>Or wilt thou serve their sons and carry the cup to their hand;<br /></span> +<span>Or abide in vain for the day that never shall come about,<br /></span> +<span>When their banners shall dance in the wind and shake to the war-gods' shout?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Sigurd answered and said: "Nought such do I look to be.<br /></span> +<span>But thou, a deedless man, too much thou eggest me:<br /></span> +<span>And these folk are good and trusty, and the land is lovely and sweet,<br /></span> +<span>And in rest and in peace it lieth as the floor of Odin's feet:<br /></span> +<span>Yet I know that the world is wide, and filled with deeds unwrought;<br /></span> +<span>And for e'en such work was I fashioned, lest the songcraft come to nought."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span><a name='Page_57'></a>Then answered Regin the guileful: "The deed is ready to hand,<br /></span> +<span>Yet holding my peace is the best, for well thou lovest the land;<br /></span> +<span>And thou lovest thy life moreover, and the peace of thy youthful days,<br /></span> +<span>And why should the full-fed feaster his hand to the rye-bread raise?<br /></span> +<span>Yet they say that Sigmund begat thee and he looked to fashion a man.<br /></span> +<span>Fear nought; he lieth quiet in his mound by the sea-waves wan."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So shone the eyes of Sigurd, that the shield against him hung<br /></span> +<span>Cast back their light as the sunbeams; but his voice to the roof-tree rung:<br /></span> +<span>"Tell me, thou Master of Masters, what deed is the deed I shall do?<br /></span> +<span>Nor mock thou the son of Sigmund lest the day of his birth thou rue."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then answered the Master of Sleight: "The deed is the righting of wrong,<br /></span> +<span>And the quelling a bale and a sorrow that the world hath endured o'erlong,<br /></span> +<span>And the winning a treasure untold, that shall make thee more than the kings;<br /></span> +<span>Thereof is the Helm of Aweing, the wonder of earthly things,<br /></span> +<span>And thereof is its very fellow, the War-Coat all of gold,<br /></span> +<span>That has not its like in the heavens, nor has earth of its fellow told."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then answered Sigurd the Volsung: "How long hereof hast thou known?<br /></span> +<span>And what unto thee is this treasure, that thou seemest to give as thine own?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Alas!" quoth the smithying master, "it is mine, yet none of mine,<br /></span> +<span>Since my heart herein avails not, and my hand is frail and fine—<br /></span> +<span>It is long since I first came hither to seek a man for my need;<br /></span> +<span>For I saw by a glimmering light that hence would spring the deed,<br /></span> +<span>And many a deed of the world: but the generations passed,<br /></span> +<span>And the first of the days was as near to the end that I sought as the last;<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_58'></a>Till I looked on thine eyes in the cradle: and now I deem through thee,<br /></span> +<span>That the end of my days of waiting, and the end of my woes shall be."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Sigurd awhile was silent; but at last he answered and said:<br /></span> +<span>"Thou shalt have thy will and the treasure, and shalt take the curse on thine head<br /></span> +<span>If a curse the gold enwrappeth: but the deed will I surely do,<br /></span> +<span>For today the dreams of my childhood hath bloomed in my heart anew:<br /></span> +<span>And I long to look on the world and the glory of the earth<br /></span> +<span>And to deal in the dealings of men, and garner the harvest of worth.<br /></span> +<span>But tell me, thou Master of Masters, where lieth this measureless wealth;<br /></span> +<span>Is it guarded by swords of the earl-folk, or kept by cunning and stealth?<br /></span> +<span>Is it over the main sea's darkness, or beyond the mountain wall?<br /></span> +<span>Or e'en in these peaceful acres anigh to the hands of all?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Regin answered sweetly: "Hereof must a tale be told:<br /></span> +<span>Bide sitting, thou son of Sigmund, on the heap of unwrought gold,<br /></span> +<span>And hearken of wondrous matters, and of things unheard, unsaid,<br /></span> +<span>And deeds of my beholding ere the first of Kings was made.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"And first ye shall know of a sooth, that I never was born of the race<br /></span> +<span>Which the masters of God-home have made to cover the fair earth's face;<br /></span> +<span>But I come of the Dwarfs departed; and fair was the earth whileome<br /></span> +<span>Ere the short-lived thralls of the Gods amidst its dales were come.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"It was Reidmar the Ancient begat me; and now was he waxen old,<br /></span> +<span>And a covetous man and a king; and he bade, and I built him a hall,<br /></span> +<span>And a golden glorious house; and thereto his sons did he call,<br /></span> +<span>And he bade them be evil and wise, that his will through them might be wrought.<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_59'></a>Then he gave unto Fafnir my brother the soul that feareth nought,<br /></span> +<span>And the brow of the hardened iron, and the hand that may never fail,<br /></span> +<span>And the greedy heart of a king, and the ear that hears no wail.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"But next unto Otter my brother he gave the snare and the net,<br /></span> +<span>And the longing to wend through the wild-wood, and wade the highways wet:<br /></span> +<span>And the foot that never resteth, while aught be left alive<br /></span> +<span>That hath cunning to match man's cunning or might with his might to strive.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"And to me, the least and the youngest, what gift for the slaying of ease?<br /></span> +<span>Save the grief that remembers the past, and the fear that the future sees;<br /></span> +<span>And the hammer and fashioning-iron, and the living coal of fire;<br /></span> +<span>And the craft that createth a semblance, and fails of the heart's desire;<br /></span> +<span>And the toil that each dawning quickens and the task that is never done;<br /></span> +<span>And the heart that longeth ever, nor will look to the deed that is won.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Thus gave my father the gifts that might never be taken again;<br /></span> +<span>Far worse were we now than the Gods, and but little better than men.<br /></span> +<span>But yet of our ancient might one thing had we left us still:<br /></span> +<span>We had craft to change our semblance, and could shift us at our will<br /></span> +<span>Into bodies of the beast-kind, or fowl, or fishes cold;<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"So dwelt we, brethren and father; and Fafnir my brother fared<br /></span> +<span>As the scourge and compeller of all things, and left no wrong undared;<br /></span> +<span>But for me, I toiled and I toiled; and fair grew my father's house;<br /></span> +<span>But writhen and foul were the hands that had made it glorious;<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"And myself a little fragment amidst it all I saw,<br /></span> +<span>Grim, cold-hearted, and unmighty as the tempest-driven straw.<br /></span> +<span>—Let be.—For Otter my brother saw seldom field or fold,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_60'></a>And he oftenest used that custom, whereof e'en now I told,<br /></span> +<span>And would shift his shape with the wood-beasts and the things of land and sea;<br /></span> +<span>And he knew what joy their hearts had, and what they longed to be,<br /></span> +<span>And their dim-eyed understanding, and his wood-craft waxed so great,<br /></span> +<span>That he seemed the king of the creatures and their very mortal fate.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Now as the years won over three folk of the heavenly halls<br /></span> +<span>Grew aweary of sleepless sloth, and the day that nought befalls;<br /></span> +<span>And they fain would look on the earth, and their latest handiwork,<br /></span> +<span>And turn the fine gold over, lest a flaw therein should lurk.<br /></span> +<span>And the three were the heart-wise Odin, the Father of the Slain,<br /></span> +<span>And Loki, the World's Begrudger, who maketh all labour vain,<br /></span> +<span>And Hœnir, the Utter-Blameless, who wrought the hope of man,<br /></span> +<span>And his heart and inmost yearnings, when first the work began;—"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The three wandered over the earth till they came to a mighty river, +haunted for long by Otter, by reason of its great wealth of fish. +There he lay on the bank, and as he watched the fish in the water his +shape was changed to that of a true otter, and he began to devour a +golden trout. Two of the gods would have passed without stay, but in +the otter Loki saw an enemy, and straightway killed him, rejoicing +over his dead body.</p> + +<p>As night fell the three gods came to a great hall, wondrously wrought +and carved, with golden hangings and forests of pillars. In the midst +of the hall sat a king on an ivory throne, and his garments were made +of purple from the sea. Kind welcome he gave to the wanderers, and +there they feasted and delighted in music and song; but even as they +drank and made merry they knew they were caught in the snare.</p> + +<p>The king's welcome changed to scornful laughter, and thus he spoke: +"Truly are ye gods, but ye are come to people who want you not. +Before ye were known to us, still was the winter cold, <a name='Page_61'></a>and the summer warm, and still could we find meat and drink. I +am Reidmar, and ye come straight from the slaying of Reidmar's son. +Shall I not then take the vengeance I will? Unless, indeed, ye give +me the treasure I covet, and then shall ye go your way. This is my +sentence. Choose ye which ye will."</p> + +<p>Then spake the wise Allfather and prayed Reidmar to unsay his word, +and cease to desire the gold. But Reidmar the Wise, and Fafnir the +Lord, and Regin the Worker cried aloud in their wrath:—</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>"'O hearken Gods of the Goths! ye shall die, and we shall be Gods,<br /></span> +<span>And rule your men belovèd with bitter-heavy rods,<br /></span> +<span>And make them beasts beneath us, save today ye do our will,<br /></span> +<span>And pay us the ransom of blood, and our hearts with the gold fulfill.'<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"But Odin spake in answer, and his voice was awful and cold:<br /></span> +<span>'Give righteous doom, O Reidmar! say what ye will of the Gold!'<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Then Reidmar laughed in his heart, and his wrath and his wisdom fled,<br /></span> +<span>And nought but his greed abided; and he spake from his throne and said:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"'Now hearken the doom I shall speak! Ye stranger-folk shall be free<br /></span> +<span>When ye give me the Flame of the Waters, the gathered Gold of the Sea,<br /></span> +<span>That Andvari hideth rejoicing in the wan realm pale as the grave;<br /></span> +<span>And the Master of Sleight shall fetch it, and the hand that never gave,<br /></span> +<span>And the heart that begrudgeth for ever shall gather and give and rue.<br /></span> +<span>—Lo this is the doom of the wise, and no doom shall be spoken anew.'<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Then Odin spake: 'It is well; the Curser shall seek for the curse;<br /></span> +<span>And the Greedy shall cherish the evil—and the seed of the Great they shall nurse.'<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"No word spake Reidmar the great, for the eyes of his heart were turned<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_62'></a>To the edge of the outer desert, so sore for the gold he yearned.<br /></span> +<span>But Loki I loosed from the toils, and he goeth his way abroad;<br /></span> +<span>And the heart of Odin he knoweth, and where he shall seek the Hoard.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"There is a desert of dread in the uttermost part of the world,<br /></span> +<span>Where over a wall of mountains is a mighty water hurled,<br /></span> +<span>Whose hidden head none knoweth, nor where it meeteth the sea;<br /></span> +<span>And that force is the Force of Andvari, and an Elf of the Dark is he.<br /></span> +<span>In the cloud and the desert he dwelleth amid that land alone;<br /></span> +<span>And his work is the storing of treasure within his house of stone.<br /></span> +<span>Time was when he knew of wisdom, and had many a tale to tell<br /></span> +<span>Of the days before the Dwarf-age, and of what in that world befell:<br /></span> +<span>And he knew of the stars and the sun, and the worlds that come and go<br /></span> +<span>On the nether rim of heaven, and whence the wind doth blow,<br /></span> +<span>And how the sea hangs balanced betwixt the curving lands,<br /></span> +<span>And how all drew together for the first Gods' fashioning hands.<br /></span> +<span>But now is all gone from him, save the craft of gathering gold,<br /></span> +<span>And he heedeth nought of the summer, nor knoweth the winter cold,<br /></span> +<span>Nor looks to the sun nor the snowfall, nor ever dreams of the sea,<br /></span> +<span>Nor hath heard of the making of men-folk, nor of where the high Gods be;<br /></span> +<span>But ever he gripeth and gathereth, and he toileth hour by hour,<br /></span> +<span>Nor knoweth the noon from the midnight as he looks on his stony bower,<br /></span> +<span>And saith: 'It is short, it is narrow for all I shall gather and get;<br /></span> +<span>For the world is but newly fashioned, and long shall its years be yet.'<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"There Loki fareth, and seeth in a land of nothing good,<br /></span> +<span>Far off o'er the empty desert, the reek of the falling flood<br /></span> +<span>Go up to the floor of heaven, and thither turn his feet<br /></span> +<span>As he weaveth the unseen meshes and the snare of strong deceit;<br /></span> +<span>So he cometh his ways to the water, where the glittering foam-bow glows,<br /></span> +<span>And the huge flood leaps the rock-wall and a green arch over it throws.<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_63'></a>There under the roof of water he treads the quivering floor,<br /></span> +<span>And the hush of the desert is felt amid the water's roar,<br /></span> +<span>And the bleak sun lighteth the wave-vault, and tells of the fruitless plain,<br /></span> +<span>And the showers that nourish nothing, and the summer come in vain.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"There did the great Guile-master his toils and his tangles set,<br /></span> +<span>And as wide as was the water, so wide was woven the net;<br /></span> +<span>And as dim as the Elf's remembrance did the meshes of it show;<br /></span> +<span>And he had no thought of sorrow, nor spared to come and go<br /></span> +<span>On his errands of griping and getting till he felt himself tangled and caught:<br /></span> +<span>Then back to his blinded soul was his ancient wisdom brought,<br /></span> +<span>And he saw his fall and his ruin, as a man by the lightning's flame<br /></span> +<span>Sees the garth all flooded by foemen; and again he remembered his name;<br /></span> +<span>And e'en as a book well written the tale of the Gods he knew,<br /></span> +<span>And the tale of the making of men, and much of the deeds they should do.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Then Andvari groaned and answered: 'I know what thou wouldst have,<br /></span> +<span>The wealth mine own hands gathered, the gold that no man gave.'<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"'Come forth,' said Loki, 'and give it, and dwell in peace henceforth—<br /></span> +<span>Or die in the toils if thou listeth, if thy life be nothing worth.'<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Full sore the Elf lamented, but he came before the God,<br /></span> +<span>And the twain went into the rock-house and on fine gold they trod,<br /></span> +<span>And the walls shone bright, and brighter than the sun of the upper air.<br /></span> +<span>How great was that treasure of treasures: and the Helm of Dread was there;<br /></span> +<span>The world but in dreams had seen it; and there was the hauberk of gold;<br /></span> +<span>None other is in the heavens, nor has earth of its fellow told.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"<a name='Page_64'></a>Then Loki bade the Elf-king bring all to the upper day,<br /></span> +<span>And he dight himself with his Godhead to bear the treasure away:<br /></span> +<span>So there in the dim grey desert before the God of Guile,<br /></span> +<span>Great heaps of the hid-world's treasure the weary Elf must pile,<br /></span> +<span>And Loki looked on laughing: but, when it all was done,<br /></span> +<span>And the Elf was hurrying homeward, his finger gleamed in the sun:<br /></span> +<span>Then Loki cried: 'Thou art guileful: thou hast not learned the tale<br /></span> +<span>Of the wisdom that Gods hath gotten and their might of all avail.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"'Come hither again to thy master, and give the ring to me;<br /></span> +<span>For meseems it is Loki's portion, and the Bale of Men shall it be.'<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Then the Elf drew off the gold-ring and stood with empty hand<br /></span> +<span>E'en where the flood fell over 'twixt the water and the land,<br /></span> +<span>And he gazed on the great Guile-master, and huge and grim he grew;<br /></span> +<span>And his anguish swelled within him, and the word of the Norns he knew;<br /></span> +<span>How that gold was the seed of gold to the wise and the shapers of things,<br /></span> +<span>The hoarders of hidden treasure, and the unseen glory of rings;<br /></span> +<span>But the seed of woe to the world and the foolish wasters of men,<br /></span> +<span>And grief to the generations that die and spring again:<br /></span> +<span>Then he cried:<br /></span> +<span class='i4'>'There farest thou Loki, and might I load thee worse<br /></span> +<span>Than with what thine ill heart beareth, then shouldst thou bear my curse:<br /></span> +<span>But for men a curse thou bearest: entangled in my gold,<br /></span> +<span>Amid my woe abideth another woe untold.<br /></span> +<span>Two brethren and a father, eight kings my grief shall slay;<br /></span> +<span>And the hearts of queens shall be broken, and their eyes shall loathe the day.'<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"But Loki laughed in silence, and swift in Godhead went,<br /></span> +<span>To the golden hall of Reidmar and the house of our content.<br /></span> +<span>But when that world of treasure was laid within our hall<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_65'></a>'Twas as if the sun were minded to live 'twixt wall and wall,<br /></span> +<span>And all we stood by and panted. Then Odin spake and said:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"'O Kings, O folk of the Dwarf-kind, lo, the ransom duly paid!<br /></span> +<span>Will ye have this sun of the ocean, and reap the fruitful field,<br /></span> +<span>And garner up the harvest that earth therefrom shall yield.'<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"So he spake; but a little season nought answered Reidmar the wise,<br /></span> +<span>But turned his face from the Treasure, and peered with eager eyes<br /></span> +<span>Endlong the hall and athwart it, as a man may chase about<br /></span> +<span>A ray of the sun of the morning that a naked sword throws out;<br /></span> +<span>And lo from Loki's right-hand came the flash of the fruitful ring,<br /></span> +<span>And at last spake Reidmar scowling:<br /></span> +<span class='i12'>'Ye wait for my yea-saying<br /></span> +<span>That your feet may go free on the earth, and the fear of my toils may be done;<br /></span> +<span>That then ye may say in your laughter: The fools of the time agone!<br /></span> +<span>The purblind eyes of the Dwarf-kind! they have gotten the garnered sheaf<br /></span> +<span>And have let their Masters depart with the Seed of Gold and of Grief:<br /></span> +<span>O Loki, friend of Allfather, cast down Andvari's ring,<br /></span> +<span>Or the world shall yet turn backward and the high heavens lack a king.'<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Then Loki drew off the Elf-ring and cast it down on the heap,<br /></span> +<span>And forth as the gold met gold did the light of its glory leap:<br /></span> +<span>But he spake: 'It rejoiceth my heart that no whit of all ye shall lack.<br /></span> +<span>Lest the curse of the Elf-king cleave not, and ye 'scape the utter wrack.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then Regin loosed the shackles of the gods and they departed into the +night, but Odin stayed in the doorway and thus he spake: "Why do ye +thus desire treasure and take sorrow to yourselves? Know ye not that +I was before your fathers' fathers, and that I can foresee your fate, +and the end of the gold ye covet? I am the Wise One who ordereth all."</p> + +<p><a name='Page_66'></a>Then they went, but Regin afterwards often recalled Odin's words and +the evening filled with the gleam of the gold, but little cared he +then, so well he loved the gold. And he prayed his father to keep the +treasure, but give a little unto him and Fafnir for the help they had +given him that day.</p> + +<p>His father in no wise heeded his words, but sat ever on his ivory +throne, staring moodily at the gold. But Fafnir grew fierce and grim +as he watched him.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>"The night waned into the morning, and still above the Hoard<br /></span> +<span>Sat Reidmar clad in purple; but Fafnir took his sword,<br /></span> +<span>And I took my smithying-hammer, and apart in the world we went;<br /></span> +<span>But I came aback in the even, and my heart was heavy and spent;<br /></span> +<span>And I longed, but fear was upon me and I durst not go to the Gold;<br /></span> +<span>So I lay in the house of my toil mid the things I had fashioned of old;<br /></span> +<span>And methought as I lay in my bed 'twixt waking and slumber of night<br /></span> +<span>That I heard the tinkling metal and beheld the hall alight,<br /></span> +<span>But I slept and dreamed of the Gods, and the things that never have slept,<br /></span> +<span>Till I woke to a cry and a clashing and forth from the bed I leapt,<br /></span> +<span>And there by the heaped-up Elf-gold my brother Fafnir stood,<br /></span> +<span>And there at his feet lay Reidmar and reddened the Treasure with blood;<br /></span> +<span>And e'en as I looked on his eyen they glazed and whitened with death,<br /></span> +<span>And forth on the torch-litten hall he shed his latest breath.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"But I looked on Fafnir and trembled for he wore the Helm of Dread,<br /></span> +<span>And his sword was bare in his hand, and the sword and the hand were red<br /></span> +<span>With the blood of our father Reidmar, and his body was wrapped in gold,<br /></span> +<span>With the ruddy-gleaming mailcoat of whose fellow hath nought been told,<br /></span> +<span>And it seemed as I looked upon him that he grew beneath mine eyes:<br /></span> +<span>And then in the mid-hall's silence did his dreadful voice arise:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"<a name='Page_67'></a>'I have slain my father Reidmar, that I alone might keep<br /></span> +<span>The Gold of the darksome places, the Candle of the Deep.<br /></span> +<span>I am such as the Gods have made me, lest the Dwarf-kind people the earth,<br /></span> +<span>Or mingle their ancient wisdom with its short-lived latest birth.<br /></span> +<span>I shall dwell alone henceforward, and the Gold and its waxing curse,<br /></span> +<span>I shall brood on them both together, let my life grow better or worse.<br /></span> +<span>And I am a King henceforward and long shall be my life,<br /></span> +<span>And the Gold shall grow with my longing, for I shall hide it from strife,'<br /></span> +<span>And hoard up the Ring of Andvari in the house thine hand hath built.<br /></span> +<span>O thou, wilt thou tarry and tarry, till I cast thy blood on the guilt?<br /></span> +<span>Lo, I am a King for ever, and alone on the Gold shall I dwell<br /></span> +<span>And do no deed to repent of and leave no tale to tell.'<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"More awful grew his visage as he spake the word of dread,<br /></span> +<span>And no more durst I behold him, but with heart a-cold I fled;<br /></span> +<span>I fled from the glorious house my hands had made so fair,<br /></span> +<span>As poor as the new-born baby with nought of raiment or gear:<br /></span> +<span>I fled from the heaps of gold, and my goods were the eager will,<br /></span> +<span>And the heart that remembereth all, and the hand that may never be still.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Then unto this land I came, and that was long ago.<br /></span> +<span>As men-folk count the years; and I taught them to reap and to sow,<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"And I grew the master of masters—Think thou how strange it is<br /></span> +<span>That the sword in the hands of a stripling shall one day end all this!<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Yet oft mid all my wisdom did I long for my brother's part,<br /></span> +<span>And Fafnir's mighty kingship weighed heavy on my heart<br /></span> +<span>When the Kings of the earthly kingdoms would give me golden gifts<br /></span> +<span>From out of their scanty treasures, due pay for my cunning shifts.<br /></span> +<span>And once—didst thou number the years thou wouldst think it long ago—<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_68'></a>I wandered away to the country from whence our stem did grow.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Then I went to the pillared hall-stead, and lo, huge heaps of gold,<br /></span> +<span>And to and fro amidst them a mighty Serpent rolled:<br /></span> +<span>Then my heart grew chill with terror, for I thought on the wont of our race,<br /></span> +<span>And I, who had lost their cunning, was a man in a deadly place,<br /></span> +<span>A feeble man and a swordless in the lone destroyer's fold;<br /></span> +<span>For I knew that the Worm was Fafnir, the Wallower on the Gold.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"So I gathered my strength and fled, and hid my shame again<br /></span> +<span>Mid the foolish sons of men-folk; and the more my hope was vain,<br /></span> +<span>The more I longed for the Treasure, and deliv'rance from the yoke:<br /></span> +<span>And yet passed the generations, and I dwelt with the short-lived folk.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Long years, and long years after, the tale of men-folk told<br /></span> +<span>How up on the Glittering Heath was the house and the dwelling of gold,<br /></span> +<span>And within that house was the Serpent, and the Lord of the Fearful Face:<br /></span> +<span>Then I wondered sore of the desert; for I thought of the golden place<br /></span> +<span>My hands of old had builded; for I knew by many a sign<br /></span> +<span>That the Fearful Face was my brother, that the blood of the Worm was mine.<br /></span> +<span>This was ages long ago, and yet in that desert he dwells,<br /></span> +<span>Betwixt him and men death lieth, and no man of his semblance tells;<br /></span> +<span>But the tale of the great Gold-wallower is never the more outworn.<br /></span> +<span>Then came thy kin, O Sigurd, and thy father's father was born,<br /></span> +<span>And I fell to the dreaming of dreams, and I saw thine eyes therein,<br /></span> +<span>And I looked and beheld thy glory and all that thy sword should win;<br /></span> +<span>And I thought that thou shouldst be he, who should bring my heart its rest,<br /></span> +<span>That of all the gifts of the Kings thy sword should give me the best.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"<a name='Page_69'></a>Ah, I fell to the dreaming of dreams; and oft the gold I saw,<br /></span> +<span>And the golden-fashioned Hauberk, clean-wrought without a flaw,<br /></span> +<span>And the Helm that aweth the world; and I knew of Fafnir's heart<br /></span> +<span>That his wisdom was greater than mine, because he had held him apart,<br /></span> +<span>Nor spilt on the sons of men-folk our knowledge of ancient days,<br /></span> +<span>Nor bartered one whit for their love, nor craved for the people's praise.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"And some day I shall have it all, his gold and his craft and his heart<br /></span> +<span>And the gathered and garnered wisdom he guards in the mountains apart."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>And he spake: "Hast thou hearkened, Sigurd, wilt thou help a man that is old<br /></span> +<span>To avenge him for his father? Wilt thou win that Treasure of Gold<br /></span> +<span>And be more than the Kings of the earth? Wilt thou rid the earth of a wrong<br /></span> +<span>And heal the woe and the sorrow my heart hath endured o'erlong?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Sigurd looked upon him with steadfast eyes and clear,<br /></span> +<span>And Regin drooped and trembled as he stood the doom to hear:<br /></span> +<span>But the bright child spake as aforetime, and answered the Master and said:<br /></span> +<span>"Thou shalt have thy will, and the Treasure, and take the curse on thine head."<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of the forging of the Sword that is called The Wrath of Sigurd.</i></p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> + +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +<span>But when the morrow was come he went to his mother and spake:<br /></span> +<span>"The shards, the shards of the sword, that thou gleanedst for my sake<br /></span> +<span>In the night on the field of slaughter, in the tide when my father fell,<br /></span> +<span>Hast thou kept them through sorrow and joyance? hast thou warded them trusty and well?<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_70'></a>Where hast thou laid them, my mother?"<br /></span> +<span class='i14'>Then she looked upon him and said:<br /></span> +<span>"Art thou wroth, O Sigurd my son, that such eyes are in thine head?<br /></span> +<span>And wilt thou be wroth with thy mother? do I withstand thee at all?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Nay," said he, "nought am I wrathful, but the days rise up like a wall<br /></span> +<span>Betwixt my soul and the deeds, and I strive to rend them through.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Now give me the sword, my mother, that Sigmund gave thee to keep."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>She said: "I shall give it thee gladly, for fain shall I be of thy praise<br /></span> +<span>When thou knowest my careful keeping of that hope of the earlier days."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So she took his hand in her hand, and they went their ways, they twain;<br /></span> +<span>Till they came to the treasure of queen-folk, the guarded chamber of gain:<br /></span> +<span>They were all alone with its riches, and she turned the key in the gold,<br /></span> +<span>And lifted the sea-born purple, and the silken web unrolled,<br /></span> +<span>And lo, 'twixt her hands and her bosom the shards of Sigmund's sword;<br /></span> +<span>No rust-fleck stained its edges, and the gems of the ocean's hoard<br /></span> +<span>Were as bright in the hilts and glorious, as when in the Volsungs' hall<br /></span> +<span>It shone in the eyes of the earl-folk and flashed from the shielded wall.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But Sigurd smiled upon it, and he said: "O Mother of Kings,<br /></span> +<span>Well hast thou warded the war-glaive for a mirror of many things,<br /></span> +<span>And a hope of much fulfilment: well hast thou given to me<br /></span> +<span>The message of my fathers, and the word of thing to be:<br /></span> +<span>Trusty hath been thy warding, but its hour is over now:<br /></span> +<span>These shards shall be knit together, and shall hear the war-wind blow."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span><a name='Page_71'></a>Then she felt his hands about her as he took the fateful sword,<br /></span> +<span>And he kissed her soft and sweetly; but she answered never a word:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But swift on his ways went Sigurd, and to Regin's house he came,<br /></span> +<span>Where the Master stood in the doorway and behind him leapt the flame,<br /></span> +<span>And dark he looked and little: no more his speech was sweet,<br /></span> +<span>No words on his lip were gathered the Volsung child to greet,<br /></span> +<span>Till he took the sword from Sigurd and the shards of the days of old;<br /></span> +<span>Then he spake:<br /></span> +<span class='i4'>"Will nothing serve thee save this blue steel and cold,<br /></span> +<span>The bane of thy father's father, the fate of all his kin,<br /></span> +<span>The baleful blade I fashioned, the Wrath that the Gods would win?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then answered the eye-bright Sigurd: "If thou thy craft wilt do,<br /></span> +<span>Nought save these battle-gleanings shall be my helper true:"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>So Regin welded together the shards of Sigmund's sword, and wrought the +Wrath of Sigurd, whose hilts were great and along whose edge ran a living +flame so that men thought it like sunlight and lightning mingled. Then +on Greyfell, with the Wrath girt by his side, Sigurd rode to the hall of +Gripir, who told him of deeds to be and of the fate that would befall him. +In no wise was Sigurd troubled, but smiled as a happy child, and together +they talked of the deeds of the kings of the Earth, of the wonders of +Heaven, and of the Queen of the Sea.</p> + +<p>And Sigurd told Gripir that he indeed was wise above all men, but for +himself had the Wrath been fashioned, and he was ready to ride to the +Glittering Heath. So they took leave of one another, and as the sky grew +blood-red in the West, and the birds were flying homeward, Sigurd drew +near to Regin's dwelling.</p> +<br /> + +<p><a name='Page_72'></a><i>Sigurd rideth to the Glittering Heath.</i></p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>Again on the morrow morning doth Sigurd the Volsung ride,<br /></span> +<span>And Regin, the Master of Masters, is faring by his side,<br /></span> +<span>And they leave the dwelling of kings and ride the summer land,<br /></span> +<span>Until at the eve of the day the hills are on either hand;<br /></span> +<span>Then they wend up higher and higher, and over the heaths they fare<br /></span> +<span>Till the moon shines broad on the midnight, and they sleep 'neath the heavens bare;<br /></span> +<span>And they waken and look behind them, and lo, the dawning of day<br /></span> +<span>And the little land of the Helper and its valleys far away;<br /></span> +<span>But the mountains rise before them, a wall exceeding great.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then spake the Master of Masters: "We have come to the garth and the gate;<br /></span> +<span>There is youth and rest behind thee and many a thing to do,<br /></span> +<span>There is many a fond desire, and each day born anew;<br /></span> +<span>And the land of the Volsungs to conquer, and many a people's praise:<br /></span> +<span>And for me there is rest it may be, and the peaceful end of days.<br /></span> +<span>We have come to the garth and the gate; to the hall-door now shall we win,<br /></span> +<span>Shall we go to look on the high-seat and see what sitteth therein?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Yea, and what else?" said Sigurd, "was thy tale but mockeries,<br /></span> +<span>And have I been drifted hither on a wind of empty lies?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"It was sooth, it was sooth," said Regin, "and more might I have told<br /></span> +<span>Had I heart and space to remember the deeds of the days of old."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Day-long they fared through the mountains, and that highway's fashioner,<br /></span> +<span>Forsooth, was a fearful craftsman, and his hands the waters were,<br /></span> +<span>And the heaped-up ice was his mattock, and the fire-blast was his man,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_73'></a>And never a whit he heeded though his walls were waste and wan,<br /></span> +<span>And the guest-halls of that wayside great heaps of the ashes spent.<br /></span> +<span>But, each as a man alone, through the sun-bright day they went,<br /></span> +<span>And they rode till the moon rose upward, and the stars were small and fair,<br /></span> +<span>Then they slept on the long-slaked ashes beneath the heavens bare;<br /></span> +<span>And the cold dawn came and they wakened, and the King of the Dwarf-kind seemed<br /></span> +<span>As a thing of that wan land fashioned; but Sigurd glowed and gleamed<br /></span> +<span>Amid a shadowless twilight by Greyfell's cloudy flank,<br /></span> +<span>As a little space they abided while the latest star-world shrank;<br /></span> +<span>On the backward road looked Regin and heard how Sigurd drew<br /></span> +<span>The girths of Greyfell's saddle, and the voice of his sword he knew,<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>And his war-gear clanged and tinkled as he leapt to the saddle-stead:<br /></span> +<span>And the sun rose up at their backs and the grey world changed to red,<br /></span> +<span>And away to the west went Sigurd by the glory wreathed about,<br /></span> +<span>But little and black was Regin as a fire that dieth out.<br /></span> +<span>Day-long they rode the mountains by the crags exceeding old,<br /></span> +<span>And the ash that the first of the Dwarf-kind found dull and quenched and cold.<br /></span> +<span>Then the moon in the mid-sky swam, and the stars were fair and pale,<br /></span> +<span>And beneath the naked heaven they slept in an ash-grey dale;<br /></span> +<span>And again at the dawn-dusk's ending they stood upon their feet,<br /></span> +<span>And Sigurd donned his war-gear nor his eyes would Regin meet.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>A clear streak widened in heaven low down above the earth;<br /></span> +<span>And above it lay the cloud-flecks, and the sun, anigh its birth,<br /></span> +<span>Unseen, their hosts was staining with the very hue of blood,<br /></span> +<span>And ruddy by Greyfell's shoulder the Son of Sigmund stood.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then spake the Master of Masters: "What is thine hope this morn<br /></span> +<span>That thou dightest thee, O Sigurd, to ride this world forlorn?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"What needeth hope," said Sigurd, "when the heart of the Volsungs turns<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_74'></a>To the light of the Glittering Heath, and the house where the Waster burns?<br /></span> +<span>I shall slay the Foe of the Gods, as thou badst me a while agone,<br /></span> +<span>And then with the Gold and its wisdom shalt thou be left alone."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"O Child," said the King of the Dwarf-kind, "when the day at last comes round<br /></span> +<span>For the dread and the Dusk of the Gods, and the kin of the Wolf is unbound,<br /></span> +<span>When thy sword shall hew the fire, and the wildfire beateth thy shield,<br /></span> +<span>Shalt thou praise the wages of hope and the Gods that pitched the field?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"O Foe of the Gods," said Sigurd, "wouldst thou hide the evil thing,<br /></span> +<span>And the curse that is greater than thou, lest death end thy labouring,<br /></span> +<span>Lest the night should come upon thee amidst thy toil for nought?<br /></span> +<span>It is me, it is me that thou fearest, if indeed I know thy thought;<br /></span> +<span>Yea me, who would utterly light the face of all good and ill,<br /></span> +<span>If not with the fruitful beams that the summer shall fulfill,<br /></span> +<span>Then at least with the world a-blazing, and the glare of the grinded sword.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"I have hearkened not nor heeded the words of thy fear and thy ruth:<br /></span> +<span>Thou hast told thy tale and thy longing, and thereto I hearkened well:—<br /></span> +<span>Let it lead thee up to heaven, let it lead thee down to hell,<br /></span> +<span>The deed shall be done tomorrow: thou shalt have that measureless Gold,<br /></span> +<span>And devour the garnered wisdom that blessed thy realm of old,<br /></span> +<span>That hath lain unspent and begrudged in the very heart of hate:<br /></span> +<span>With the blood and the might of thy brother thine hunger shalt thou sate;<br /></span> +<span>And this deed shall be mine and thine; but take heed for what followeth then!<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_75'></a>Let each do after his kind! I shall do the deeds of men;<br /></span> +<span>I shall harvest the field of their sowing, in the bed of their strewing shall sleep;<br /></span> +<span>To them shall I give my life-days, to the Gods my glory to keep.<br /></span> +<span>But them with the wealth and the wisdom that the best of the Gods might praise,<br /></span> +<span>If thou shall indeed excel them and become the hope of the days,<br /></span> +<span>Then me in turn hast thou conquered, and I shall be in turn<br /></span> +<span>Thy fashioned brand of the battle through good and evil to burn,<br /></span> +<span>Or the flame that sleeps in thy stithy for the gathered winds to blow,<br /></span> +<span>When thou listest to do and undo and thine uttermost cunning to show.<br /></span> +<span>But indeed I wot full surely that thou shalt follow thy kind;<br /></span> +<span>And for all that cometh after, the Norns shall loose and bind."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then his bridle-reins rang sweetly, and the warding-walls of death,<br /></span> +<span>And Regin drew up to him, and the Wrath sang loud in the sheath,<br /></span> +<span>And forth from that trench in the mountains by the westward way they ride;<br /></span> +<span>And little and black goes Regin by the golden Volsung's side;<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So ever they wended upward, and the midnight hour was o'er,<br /></span> +<span>And the stars grew pale and paler, and failed from the heaven's floor,<br /></span> +<span>And the moon was a long while dead, but where was the promise of day?<br /></span> +<span>No change came over the darkness, no streak of the dawning grey;<br /></span> +<span>No sound of the wind's uprising adown the night there ran:<br /></span> +<span>It was blind as the Gaping Gulf ere the first of the worlds began.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then athwart and athwart rode Sigurd and sought the walls of the pass,<br /></span> +<span>But found no wall before him; and the road rang hard as brass<br /></span> +<span>Beneath the hoofs of Greyfell, as up and up he trod:<br /></span> +<span>—Was it the daylight of Hell, or the night of the doorway of God?<br /></span> +<span>But lo, at the last a glimmer, and a light from the west there came,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_76'></a>And another and another, like points of far-off flame;<br /></span> +<span>And they grew and brightened and gathered; and whiles together they ran<br /></span> +<span>Like the moonwake over the waters; and whiles they were scant and wan,<br /></span> +<span>Some greater and some lesser, like the boats of fishers laid<br /></span> +<span>About the sea of midnight; and a dusky dawn they made,<br /></span> +<span>A faint and glimmering twilight: So Sigurd strains his eyes,<br /></span> +<span>And he sees how a land deserted all round about him lies<br /></span> +<span>More changeless than mid-ocean, as fruitless as its floor:<br /></span> +<span>Then the heart leaps up within him, for he knows that his journey is o'er,<br /></span> +<span>And there he draweth bridle on the first of the Glittering Heath:<br /></span> +<span>And the Wrath is waxen merry and sings in the golden sheath<br /></span> +<span>As he leaps adown from Greyfell, and stands upon his feet,<br /></span> +<span>And wends his ways through the twilight the Foe of the Gods to meet.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p><i>Sigurd slayeth Fafnir the Serpent.</i></p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>Nought Sigurd seeth of Regin, and nought he heeds of him,<br /></span> +<span>As in watchful might and glory he strides the desert dim,<br /></span> +<span>And behind him paceth Greyfell; but he deems the time o'erlong<br /></span> +<span>Till he meet the great gold-warden, the over-lord of wrong.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So he wendeth midst the silence through the measureless desert place,<br /></span> +<span>And beholds the countless glitter with wise and steadfast face,<br /></span> +<span>Till him-seems in a little season that the flames grown somewhat wan,<br /></span> +<span>And a grey thing glimmers before him, and becomes a mighty man,<br /></span> +<span>One-eyed and ancient-seeming, in cloud-grey raiment clad;<br /></span> +<span>A friendly man and glorious, and of visage smiling-glad:<br /></span> +<span>Then content in Sigurd groweth because of his majesty,<br /></span> +<span>And he heareth him speak in the desert as the wind of the winter sea:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Hail Sigurd! Give me thy greeting ere thy ways alone thou wend!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span><a name='Page_77'></a>Said Sigurd: "Hail! I greet thee, my friend and my fathers' friend."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Now whither away," said the elder, "with the Steed and the ancient Sword?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"To the greedy house," said Sigurd, "and the King of the Heavy Hoard."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Wilt thou smite, O Sigurd, Sigurd?" said the ancient mighty-one.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Yea, yea, I shall smite," said the Volsung, "save the Gods have slain the sun."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"What wise wilt thou smite," said the elder, "lest the dark devour thy day?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Thou hast praised the sword," said the child, "and the sword shall find a way."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Be learned of me," said the Wise-one, "for I was the first of thy folk."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Said the child: "I shall do thy bidding, and for thee shall I strike the stroke."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Spake the Wise-one: "Thus shalt thou do when thou wendest hence alone:<br /></span> +<span>Thou shalt find a path in the desert, and a road in the world of stone;<br /></span> +<span>It is smooth and deep and hollow, but the rain hath riven it not,<br /></span> +<span>And the wild wind hath not worn it, for it is but Fafnir's slot,<br /></span> +<span>Whereby he wends to the water and the fathomless pool of old,<br /></span> +<span>When his heart in the dawn is weary, and he loathes the ancient Gold:<br /></span> +<span>There think of the great and the fathers, and bare the whetted Wrath,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_78'></a>And dig a pit in the highway, and a grave in the Serpent's path:<br /></span> +<span>Lie thou therein, O Sigurd, and thine hope from the glooming hide,<br /></span> +<span>And be as the dead for a season, and the living light abide!<br /></span> +<span>And so shall thine heart avail thee, and thy mighty fateful hand,<br /></span> +<span>And the Light that lay in the Branstock, the well-belovèd brand."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Said the child: "I shall do thy bidding, and for thee shall I strike the stroke;<br /></span> +<span>For I love thee, friend of my fathers, Wise Heart of the holy folk."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So spake the Son of Sigmund, and beheld no man anear,<br /></span> +<span>And again was the night the midnight, and the twinkling flame shone clear<br /></span> +<span>In the hush of the Glittering Heath; and alone went Sigmund's son<br /></span> +<span>Till he came to the road of Fafnir, and the highway worn by one,<br /></span> +<span>By the drift of the rain unfurrowed, by the windy years unrent,<br /></span> +<span>And forth from the dark it came, and into the dark it went.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Great then was the heart of Sigurd, for there in the midmost he stayed,<br /></span> +<span>And thought of the ancient fathers, and bared the bright blue blade,<br /></span> +<span>That shone as a fleck of the day-light, and the night was all around.<br /></span> +<span>Fair then was the Son of Sigmund as he toiled and laboured the ground;<br /></span> +<span>Great, mighty he was in his working, and the Glittering Heath he clave,<br /></span> +<span>And the sword shone blue before him as he dug the pit and the grave:<br /></span> +<span>There he hid his hope from the night-tide and lay like one of the dead,<br /></span> +<span>And wise and wary he bided; and the heavens hung over his head.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now the night wanes over Sigurd, and the ruddy rings he sees,<br /></span> +<span>And his war-gear's fair adornment, and the God-folk's images;<br /></span> +<span>But a voice in the desert ariseth, a sound in the waste has birth,<br /></span> +<span>A changing tinkle and clatter, as of gold dragged over the earth:<br /></span> +<span>O'er Sigurd widens the day-light, and the sound is drawing close,<br /></span> +<span>And speedier than the trample of speedy feet it goes;<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_79'></a>But ever deemeth Sigurd that the sun brings back the day,<br /></span> +<span>For the grave grows lighter and lighter and heaven o'erhead is grey.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But now, how the rattling waxeth till he may not heed nor hark!<br /></span> +<span>And the day and the heavens are hidden, and o'er Sigurd rolls the dark,<br /></span> +<span>As the flood of a pitchy river, and heavy-thick is the air<br /></span> +<span>With the venom of hate long hoarded, and lies once fashioned fair:<br /></span> +<span>Then a wan face comes from the darkness, and is wrought in man-like wise,<br /></span> +<span>And the lips are writhed with laughter and bleared are the blinded eyes;<br /></span> +<span>And it wandereth hither and thither, and searcheth through the grave<br /></span> +<span>And departeth, leaving nothing, save the dark, rolled wave on wave<br /></span> +<span>O'er the golden head of Sigurd and the edges of the sword,<br /></span> +<span>And the world weighs heavy on Sigurd, and the weary curse of the Hoard;<br /></span> +<span>Him-seemed the grave grew straiter, and his hope of life grew chill,<br /></span> +<span>And his heart by the Worm was enfolded, and the bonds of the Ancient Ill.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then was Sigurd stirred by his glory, and he strove with the swaddling of Death;<br /></span> +<span>He turned in the pit on the highway, and the grave of the Glittering Heath;<br /></span> +<span>He laughed and smote with the laughter and thrust up over his head.<br /></span> +<span>And smote the venom asunder and clave the heart of Dread;<br /></span> +<span>Then he leapt from the pit and the grave, and the rushing river of blood,<br /></span> +<span>And fulfilled with the joy of the War-God on the face of earth he stood<br /></span> +<span>With red sword high uplifted, with wrathful glittering eyes;<br /></span> +<span>And he laughed at the heavens above him for he saw the sun arise,<br /></span> +<span>And Sigurd gleamed on the desert, and shone in the new-born light,<br /></span> +<span>And the wind in his raiment wavered, and all the world was bright.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span><a name='Page_80'></a>But there was the ancient Fafnir, and the Face of Terror lay<br /></span> +<span>On the huddled folds of the Serpent, that were black and ashen-grey<br /></span> +<span>In the desert lit by the sun; and those twain looked each on each,<br /></span> +<span>And forth from the Face of Terror went a sound of dreadful speech:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Child, child, who art thou that hast smitten? bright child, of whence is thy birth?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"I am called the Wild-thing Glorious, and alone I wend on the earth."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"What master hath taught thee of murder?—Thou hast wasted Fafnir's day."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"I, Sigurd, knew and desired, and the bright sword learned the way."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"I am blind, O Strong Compeller, in the bonds of Death and Hell.<br /></span> +<span>But thee shall the rattling Gold and the red rings bring unto bane."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Yet the rings mine hand shall scatter, and the earth shall gather again."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Woe, woe! in the days passed over I bore the Helm of Dread,<br /></span> +<span>I reared the Face of Terror, and the hoarded hate of the Dead:<br /></span> +<span>I overcame and was mighty; I was wise and cherished my heart<br /></span> +<span>In the waste where no man wandered, and the high house builded apart:<br /></span> +<span>Till I met thine hand, O Sigurd, and thy might ordained from of old;<br /></span> +<span>And I fought and fell in the morning, and I die far off from the Gold."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then all sank into silence, and the Son of Sigmund stood<br /></span> +<span>On the torn and furrowed desert by the pool of Fafnir's blood,<br /></span> +<span>And the Serpent lay before him, dead, chilly, dull, and grey;<br /></span> +<span>And over the Glittering Heath fair shone the sun and the day,<br /></span> +<span>And a light wind followed the sun and breathed o'er the fateful place,<br /></span> +<span>As fresh as it furrows the sea-plain or bows the acres' face.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p><a name='Page_81'></a><i>Sigurd slayeth Regin the Master of Masters on the Glittering Heath.</i></p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>There standeth Sigurd the Volsung, and leaneth on his sword,<br /></span> +<span>And beside him now is Greyfell and looks on his golden lord,<br /></span> +<span>And the world is awake and living; and whither now shall they wend,<br /></span> +<span>Who have come to the Glittering Heath, and wrought that deed to its end?<br /></span> +<span>For hither comes Regin the Master from the skirts of the field of death.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Afoot he went o'er the desert, and he came unto Sigurd and stared<br /></span> +<span>At the golden gear of the man, and the Wrath yet bloody and bared,<br /></span> +<span>And the light locks raised by the wind, and the eyes beginning to smile,<br /></span> +<span>And the lovely lips of the Volsung, and the brow that knew no guile;<br /></span> +<span>And he murmured under his breath while his eyes grew white with wrath:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"O who art thou, and wherefore, and why art thou in the path?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then he turned to the ash-grey Serpent, and grovelled low on the ground,<br /></span> +<span>And he drank of that pool of the blood where the stones of the wild were drowned,<br /></span> +<span>And long he lapped as a dog; but when he arose again,<br /></span> +<span>Lo, a flock of the mountain-eagles that drew to the feastful plain;<br /></span> +<span>And he turned and looked on Sigurd, as bright in the sun he stood,<br /></span> +<span>A stripling fair and slender, and wiped the Wrath of the blood.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then he scowled and crouched and darkened, and came to Sigurd and spake:<br /></span> +<span>"O child, thou hast slain my brother, and the Wrath is alive and awake."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"<a name='Page_82'></a>Thou sayest sooth," said Sigurd, "thy deed and mine is done:<br /></span> +<span>But now our ways shall sunder, for here, meseemeth, the sun<br /></span> +<span>Hath but little of deeds to do, and no love to win aback."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But Regin darkened before him, and exceeding grim was he grown,<br /></span> +<span>And he spake: "Thou hast slain my brother, and wherewith wilt thou atone?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Stand up, O Master," said Sigurd, "O Singer of ancient days,<br /></span> +<span>And take the wealth I have won thee, ere we wend on the sundering ways.<br /></span> +<span>I have toiled and thou hast desired, and the Treasure is surely anear,<br /></span> +<span>And thou hast wisdom to find it, and I have slain thy fear."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But Regin crouched and darkened: "Thou hast slain my brother," he said.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Take thou the Gold," quoth Sigurd, "for the ransom of my head!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Regin crouched and darkened, and over the earth he hung;<br /></span> +<span>And he said: "Thou hast slain my brother, and the Gods are yet but young."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>And he spake: "Thou hast slain my brother, and today shall thou be my thrall:<br /></span> +<span>Yea, a King shall be my cook-boy and this heath my cooking-hall."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then he crept to the ash-grey coils where the life of his brother had lain,<br /></span> +<span>And he drew a glaive from his side and smote the smitten and slain,<br /></span> +<span>And tore the heart from Fafnir, while the eagles cried o'erhead,<br /></span> +<span>And sharp and shrill was their voice o'er the entrails of the dead.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Regin spake to Sigurd: "Of this slaying wilt thou be free?<br /></span> +<span>Then gather thou fire together and roast the heart for me,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_83'></a>That I may eat it and live, and be thy master and more;<br /></span> +<span>For therein was might and wisdom, and the grudged and hoarded lore:—<br /></span> +<span>—Or else, depart on thy ways afraid from the Glittering Heath."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then he fell abackward and slept, nor set his sword in the sheath.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But Sigurd took the Heart, and wood on the waste he found,<br /></span> +<span>The wood that grew and died, as it crept on the niggard ground,<br /></span> +<span>And grew and died again, and lay like whitened bones;<br /></span> +<span>And the ernes cried over his head, as he builded his hearth of stones,<br /></span> +<span>And kindled the fire for cooking, and sat and sang o'er the roast<br /></span> +<span>The song of his fathers of old, and the Wolflings' gathering host:<br /></span> +<span>So there on the Glittering Heath rose up the little flame,<br /></span> +<span>And the dry sticks crackled amidst it, and alow the eagles came,<br /></span> +<span>And seven they were by tale, and they pitched all round about<br /></span> +<span>The cooking-fire of Sigurd, and sent their song-speech out:<br /></span> +<span>But nought he knoweth its wisdom, or the word that they would speak:<br /></span> +<span>And hot grew the Heart of Fafnir and sang amid the reek.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Sigurd looketh on Regin, and he deemeth it overlong<br /></span> +<span>That he dighteth the dear-bought morsel, and the might for the Master of wrong,<br /></span> +<span>So he reacheth his hand to the roast to see if the cooking be o'er;<br /></span> +<span>But the blood and the fat seethed from it and scalded his finger sore,<br /></span> +<span>And he set his hand to his mouth to quench the fleshly smart,<br /></span> +<span>And he tasted the flesh of the Serpent and the blood of Fafnir's Heart:<br /></span> +<span>Then there came a change upon him, for the speech of fowl he knew,<br /></span> +<span>And wise in the ways of the beast-kind as the Dwarfs of old he grew;<br /></span> +<span>And he knitted his brows and hearkened, and wrath in his heart arose<br /></span> +<span>For he felt beset of evil in a world of many foes.<br /></span> +<span>But the hilts of the Wrath he handled, and Regin's heart he saw,<br /></span> +<span>And how that the Foe of the Gods the net of death would draw;<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_84'></a>And his bright eyes flashed and sparkled, and his mouth grew set and stern<br /></span> +<span>As he hearkened the voice of the eagles, and their song began to learn.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And six of the eagles cried to Sigurd not to tarry before the feast, and +they urged him to kill Regin, who had planned Fafnir's death that he alone +might live and fashion the world after his evil will.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>And the seventh: "Arise, O Sigurd, lest the hour be overlate!<br /></span> +<span>For the sun in the mid-noon shineth, and swift is the hand of Fate:<br /></span> +<span>Arise! lest the world run backward and the blind heart have its will,<br /></span> +<span>And once again be tangled the sundered good and ill;<br /></span> +<span>Lest love and hatred perish, lest the world forget its tale,<br /></span> +<span>And the Gods sit deedless, dreaming, in the high-walled heavenly vale."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then swift ariseth Sigurd, and the Wrath in his hand is bare,<br /></span> +<span>And he looketh, and Regin sleepeth, and his eyes wide-open glare;<br /></span> +<span>But his lips smile false in his dreaming, and his hand is on the sword;<br /></span> +<span>For he dreams himself the Master and the new world's fashioning-lord,<br /></span> +<span>And his dream hath forgotten Sigurd, and the King's life lies in the pit;<br /></span> +<span>He is nought; Death gnaweth upon him, while the Dwarfs in mastery sit.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But lo, how the eyes of Sigurd the heart of the guileful behold,<br /></span> +<span>And great is Allfather Odin, and upriseth the Curse of the Gold,<br /></span> +<span>And the Branstock bloometh to heaven from the ancient wondrous root;<br /></span> +<span>The summer hath shone on its blossoms, and Sigurd's Wrath is the fruit.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then his second stroke struck Sigurd, for the Wrath flashed thin and white,<br /></span> +<span>And 'twixt head and trunk of Regin fierce ran the fateful light;<br /></span> +<span>And there lay brother by brother a faded thing and wan.<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_85'></a>But Sigurd cried in the desert: "So far have I wended on!<br /></span> +<span>Dead are the foes of God-home that would blend the good and the ill;<br /></span> +<span>And the World shall yet be famous, and the Gods shall have their will.<br /></span> +<span>Nor shall I be dead and forgotten, while the earth grows worse and worse,<br /></span> +<span>With the blind heart king o'er the people, and binding curse with curse."<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p><i>How Sigurd took to him the Treasure of the Elf Andvari.</i></p> + +<p>So Sigurd ate of the heart of Fafnir, and as he ate the longing to be gone +to mighty deeds grew great, and he leapt on Greyfell and sought the home +of the Dweller amid the Gold on the edge of the heath. He strode through +the doorway, and before him lay golden armour, golden coins, and golden +sands from rivers that none but the Dwarfs could mine. But more wonderful +than all other treasures were the Helm of Aweing, and the Hauberk all of +gold, while on top of the midmost heap, gleaming like the brightest star +in the sky, lay the ring of Andvari.</p> + +<p>Sigurd put on the helm and the hauberk, and dragged out gold wherewith he +loaded Greyfell till the cloud-grey horse shone, while the eagles ever +bade him bring forth the treasure, and let the gold shine in the open. +And as the stars paled and the dawn grew clearer, Sigurd and Greyfell +passed swiftly and lightly towards the west.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>How Sigurd awoke Brynhild upon Hindfell.</i></p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>By long roads rideth Sigurd amidst that world of stone,<br /></span> +<span>And somewhat south he turneth; for he would not be alone,<br /></span> +<span>But longs for the dwellings of man-folk, and the kingly people's speech,<br /></span> +<span>And the days of the glee and the joyance, where men laugh each to each.<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_86'></a>But still the desert endureth, and afar must Greyfell fare<br /></span> +<span>From the wrack of the Glittering Heath, and Fafnir's golden lair.<br /></span> +<span>Long Sigurd rideth the waste, when, lo, on a morning of day<br /></span> +<span>From out of the tangled crag-walls, amidst the cloud-land grey<br /></span> +<span>Comes up a mighty mountain, and it is as though there burns<br /></span> +<span>A torch amidst of its cloud-wreath; so thither Sigurd turns,<br /></span> +<span>For he deems indeed from its topmost to look on the best of the earth;<br /></span> +<span>And Greyfell neigheth beneath him, and his heart is full of mirth.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Night falls, but yet rides Sigurd, and hath no thought of rest,<br /></span> +<span>For he longs to climb that rock-world and behold the earth at its best;<br /></span> +<span>But now mid the maze of the foot-hills he seeth the light no more,<br /></span> +<span>And the stars are lovely and gleaming on the lightless heavenly floor.<br /></span> +<span>So up and up he wendeth till the night is wearing thin;<br /></span> +<span>And he rideth a rift of the mountain, and all is dark therein,<br /></span> +<span>Till the stars are dimmed by dawning and the wakening world is cold;<br /></span> +<span>Then afar in the upper rock-wall a breach doth he behold,<br /></span> +<span>And a flood of light poured inward the doubtful dawning blinds:<br /></span> +<span>So swift he rideth thither and the mouth of the breach he finds,<br /></span> +<span>And sitteth awhile on Greyfell on the marvellous thing to gaze:<br /></span> +<span>For lo, the side of Hindfell enwrapped by the fervent blaze,<br /></span> +<span>And nought 'twixt earth and heaven save a world of flickering flame,<br /></span> +<span>And a hurrying shifting tangle, where the dark rents went and came.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Great groweth the heart of Sigurd with uttermost desire,<br /></span> +<span>And he crieth kind to Greyfell, and they hasten up, and nigher,<br /></span> +<span>Till he draweth rein in the dawning on the face of Hindfell's steep:<br /></span> +<span>But who shall heed the dawning where the tongues of that wildfire leap?<br /></span> +<span>For they weave a wavering wall, that driveth over the heaven<br /></span> +<span>The wind that is born within it; nor ever aside is it driven<br /></span> +<span>By the mightiest wind of the waste, and the rain-flood amidst it is nought;<br /></span> +<span>And no wayfarer's door and no window the hand of its builder hath wrought.<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_87'></a>But thereon is the Volsung smiling as its breath uplifteth his hair,<br /></span> +<span>And his eyes shine bright with its image, and his mail gleams white and fair,<br /></span> +<span>And his war-helm pictures the heavens and the waning stars behind:<br /></span> +<span>But his neck is Greyfell stretching to snuff at the flame-wall blind,<br /></span> +<span>And his cloudy flank upheaveth, and tinkleth the knitted mail,<br /></span> +<span>And the gold of the uttermost waters is waxen wan and pale.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now Sigurd turns in his saddle, and the hilt of the Wrath he shifts,<br /></span> +<span>And draws a girth the tighter; then the gathered reins he lifts,<br /></span> +<span>And crieth aloud to Greyfell, and rides at the wildfire's heart;<br /></span> +<span>But the white wall wavers before him and the flame-flood rusheth apart,<br /></span> +<span>And high o'er his head it riseth, and wide and wild is its roar<br /></span> +<span>As it beareth the mighty tidings to the very heavenly floor:<br /></span> +<span>But he rideth through its roaring as the warrior rides the rye,<br /></span> +<span>When it bows with the wind of the summer and the hid spears draw anigh.<br /></span> +<span>The white flame licks his raiment and sweeps through Greyfell's mane,<br /></span> +<span>And bathes both hands of Sigurd and the hilts of Fafnir's bane,<br /></span> +<span>And winds about his war-helm and mingles with his hair,<br /></span> +<span>But nought his raiment dusketh or dims his glittering gear;<br /></span> +<span>Then it fails and fades and darkens till all seems left behind,<br /></span> +<span>And dawn and the blaze is swallowed in mid-mirk stark and blind.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But forth a little further and a little further on<br /></span> +<span>And all is calm about him, and he sees the scorched earth wan<br /></span> +<span>Beneath a glimmering twilight, and he turns his conquering eyes,<br /></span> +<span>And a ring of pale slaked ashes on the side of Hindfell lies;<br /></span> +<span>And the world of the waste is beyond it; and all is hushed and grey,<br /></span> +<span>And the new-risen moon is a-paleing, and the stars grow faint with day.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Sigurd looked before him and a Shield-burg there he saw,<br /></span> +<span>A wall of the tiles of Odin wrought clear without a flaw,<br /></span> +<span>The gold by the silver gleaming, and the ruddy by the white;<br /></span> +<span>And the blazonings of their glory were done upon them bright.<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_88'></a>As of dear things wrought for the war-lords new come to Odin's hall.<br /></span> +<span>Piled high aloft to the heavens uprose that battle-wall,<br /></span> +<span>And far o'er the topmost shield-rim for a banner of fame there hung<br /></span> +<span>A glorious golden buckler; and against the staff it rung<br /></span> +<span>As the earliest wind of dawning uprose on Hindfell's face<br /></span> +<span>And the light from the yellow east beamed soft on the shielded place.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But the Wrath cried out in answer as Sigurd leapt adown<br /></span> +<span>To the wasted soil of the desert by that rampart of renown;<br /></span> +<span>He looked but little beneath it, and the dwelling of God it seemed,<br /></span> +<span>As against its gleaming silence the eager Sigurd gleamed:<br /></span> +<span>He draweth not sword from scabbard, as the wall he wendeth around,<br /></span> +<span>And it is but the wind and Sigurd that wakeneth any sound:<br /></span> +<span>But, lo, to the gate he cometh, and the doors are open wide,<br /></span> +<span>And no warder the way withstandeth, and no earls by the threshold abide.<br /></span> +<span>So he stands awhile and marvels; then the baleful light of the Wrath<br /></span> +<span>Gleams bare in his ready hand as he wendeth the inward path:<br /></span> +<span>For he doubteth some guile of the Gods, or perchance some Dwarf-king's snare,<br /></span> +<span>Or a mock of the Giant people that shall fade in the morning air:<br /></span> +<span>But he getteth him in and gazeth; and a wall doth he behold,<br /></span> +<span>And the ruddy set by the white, and the silver by the gold;<br /></span> +<span>But within the garth that it girdeth no work of man is set,<br /></span> +<span>But the utmost head of Hindfell ariseth higher yet;<br /></span> +<span>And below in the very midmost is a Giant-fashioned mound,<br /></span> +<span>Piled high as the rims of the Shield-burg above the level ground;<br /></span> +<span>And there, on that mound of the Giants, o'er the wilderness forlorn,<br /></span> +<span>A pale grey image lieth, and gleameth in the morn.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So there was Sigurd alone; and he went from the shielded door,<br /></span> +<span>And aloft in the desert of wonder the Light of the Branstock he bore;<br /></span> +<span>And he set his face to the earth-mound, and beheld the image wan,<br /></span> +<span>And the dawn was growing about it; and, lo, the shape of a man<br /></span> +<span>Set forth to the eyeless desert on the tower-top of the world,<br /></span> +<span><a name='Page_89'></a>High over the cloud-wrought castle whence the windy bolts are hurled.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now over the body he standeth, and seeth it shapen fair,<br /></span> +<span>And clad from head to foot-sole in pale grey-glittering gear,<br /></span> +<span>In a hauberk wrought as straitly as though to the flesh it were grown:<br /></span> +<span>But a great helm hideth the head and is girt with a glittering crown.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So thereby he stoopeth and kneeleth, for he deems it were good indeed<br /></span> +<span>If the breath of life abide there and the speech to help at need;<br /></span> +<span>And as sweet as the summer wind from a garden under the sun<br /></span> +<span>Cometh forth on the topmost Hindfell the breath of that sleeping-one.<br /></span> +<span>Then he saith he will look on the face, if it bear him love or hate,<br /></span> +<span>Or the bonds for his life's constraining, or the sundering doom of fate.<br /></span> +<span>So he draweth the helm from the head, and, lo, the brow snow-white,<br /></span> +<span>And the smooth unfurrowed cheeks, and the wise lips breathing light;<br /></span> +<span>And the face of a woman it is, and the fairest that ever was born,<br /></span> +<span>Shown forth to the empty heavens and the desert world forlorn:<br /></span> +<span>But he looketh, and loveth her sore, and he longeth her spirit to move,<br /></span> +<span>And awaken her heart to the world, that she may behold him and love.<br /></span> +<span>And he toucheth her breast and her hands, and he loveth her passing sore.<br /></span> +<span>And he saith: "Awake! I am Sigurd;" but she moveth never the more.<br /></span> +<span>Then he looked on his bare bright blade, and he said: "Thou—what wilt thou do?<br /></span> +<span>For indeed as I came by the war-garth thy voice of desire I knew."<br /></span> +<span>Bright burnt the pale blue edges for the sunrise drew anear,<br /></span> +<span>And the rims of the Shield-burg glittered, and the east was exceeding clear:<br /></span> +<span>So the eager edges he setteth to the Dwarf-wrought battle-coat<br /></span><a name='Page_90'></a> +<span>Where the hammered ring-knit collar constraineth the woman's throat;<br /></span> +<span>But the sharp Wrath biteth and rendeth, and before it fail the rings,<br /></span> +<span>And, lo, the gleam of the linen, and the light of golden things:<br /></span> +<span>Then he driveth the blue steel onward, and through the skirt, and out,<br /></span> +<span>Till nought but the rippling linen is wrapping her about;<br /></span> +<span>Then he deems her breath comes quicker and her breast begins to heave,<br /></span> +<span>So he turns about the War-Flame and rends down either sleeve,<br /></span> +<span>Till her arms lie white in her raiment, and a river of sun-bright hair<br /></span> +<span>Flows free o'er bosom and shoulder and floods the desert bare.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then a flush cometh over her visage and a sigh up-heaveth her breast,<br /></span> +<span>And her eyelids quiver and open, and she wakeneth into rest;<br /></span> +<span>Wide-eyed on the dawning she gazeth, too glad to change or smile,<br /></span> +<span>And but little moveth her body, nor speaketh she yet for a while;<br /></span> +<span>And yet kneels Sigurd moveless her wakening speech to heed,<br /></span> +<span>While soft the waves of the daylight o'er the starless heavens speed,<br /></span> +<span>And the gleaming rims of the Shield-burg yet bright and brighter grow,<br /></span> +<span>And the thin moon hangeth her horns dead-white in the golden glow.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then she turned and gazed on Sigurd, and her eyes met the Volsung's eyes.<br /></span> +<span>And mighty and measureless now did the tide of his love arise,<br /></span> +<span>For their longing had met and mingled, and he knew of her heart that she loved,<br /></span> +<span>As she spake unto nothing but him and her lips with the speech-flood moved:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"O, what is the thing so mighty that my weary sleep hath torn,<br /></span> +<span>And rent the fallow bondage, and the wan woe over-worn?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>He said: "The hand of Sigurd and the Sword of Sigmund's son,<br /></span> +<span>And the heart that the Volsungs fashioned this deed for thee have done."<br /></span><a name='Page_91'></a> +<span>But she said: "Where then is Odin that laid me here alow?<br /></span> +<span>Long lasteth the grief of the world, and manfolk's tangled woe!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"He dwelleth above," said Sigurd, "but I on the earth abide,<br /></span> +<span>And I came from the Glittering Heath the waves of thy fire to ride."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Sigurd looketh upon her, and the words from his heart arise:<br /></span> +<span>"Thou art the fairest of earth, and the wisest of the wise;<br /></span> +<span>O who art thou that lovest? I am Sigurd, e'en as I told;<br /></span> +<span>I have slain the Foe of the Gods, and gotten the Ancient Gold;<br /></span> +<span>And great were the gain of thy love, and the gift of mine earthly days,<br /></span> +<span>If we twain should never sunder as we wend on the changing ways.<br /></span> +<span>O who art thou that lovest, thou fairest of all things born?<br /></span> +<span>And what meaneth thy sleep and thy slumber in the wilderness forlorn?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then the maiden told him that she had been the handmaid of the +All-father, but that she grew too proud, and Odin had sent her to +Hindfell, where the sleep thorn pierced her that she might sleep till +she found the fearless heart she would wed. Such a one had she found +now, and many were the words of prophetic wisdom and warning that +fell from her lips on the ears of Sigurd.</p> + +<p>But many though they were they were not enough for him, who prayed +her to speak with him more of Wisdom.</p> + +<p>So together they sat on the side of Hindfell and talked of all that is +and can be, and then together they climbed the mountain, till beneath +them they saw the kingdoms of the earth stretching far away, and +Brynhild bade him look down on her home, saying:</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Yet I bid thee look on the land 'twixt the wood and the silver sea<br /></span> +<span>In the bight of the swirling river, and the house that cherished me!<br /></span> +<span>There dwelleth mine earthly sister and the king that she hath wed;<br /></span> +<span>There morn by morn aforetime I woke on the golden bed;<br /></span><a name='Page_92'></a> +<span>There eve by eve I tarried mid the speech and the lays of kings;<br /></span> +<span>There noon by noon I wandered and plucked the blossoming things;<br /></span> +<span>The little land of Lymdale by the swirling river's side,<br /></span> +<span>Where Brynhild once was I called in the days ere my father died;<br /></span> +<span>The little land of Lymdale 'twixt the woodland and the sea,<br /></span> +<span>Where on thee mine eyes shall brighten and thine eyes shall beam on me."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"I shall seek thee there," said Sigurd, "when the day-spring is begun,<br /></span> +<span>Ere we wend the world together in the season of the sun."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"I shall bide thee there," said Brynhild, "till the fulness of the days,<br /></span> +<span>And the time for the glory appointed, and the springing-tide of praise."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>From his hand then draweth Sigurd Andvari's ancient Gold;<br /></span> +<span>There is nought but the sky above them as the ring together they hold,<br /></span> +<span>The shapen ancient token, that hath no change nor end,<br /></span> +<span>No change, and no beginning, no flaw for God to mend:<br /></span> +<span>Then Sigurd cries: "O Brynhild, now hearken while I swear,<br /></span> +<span>That the sun shall die in the heavens and the day no more be fair,<br /></span> +<span>If I seek not love in Lymdale and the house that fostered thee,<br /></span> +<span>And the land where thou awakedst 'twixt the woodland and the sea!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>And she cried: "O Sigurd, Sigurd, now hearken while I swear<br /></span> +<span>That the day shall die for ever and the sun to blackness wear,<br /></span> +<span>Ere I forget thee, Sigurd, as I lie 'twixt wood and sea<br /></span> +<span>In the little land of Lymdale and the house that fostered me!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then he set the ring on her finger and once, if ne'er again,<br /></span> +<span>They kissed and clung together, and their hearts were full and fain.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div></div><a name='Page_93'></a> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='BOOK_III'></a><h2>BOOK III.</h2> + +<h3>BRYNHILD.</h3> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of Sigurd's riding to the Niblungs</i>.</p> +<br /> + +<p>Now Brynhild and Sigurd left Hindfell, and Brynhild went to dwell in +her sister's house, but Sigurd abode not long in the land of Lymdale, +for his love urged him to great adventures wherein he might win glory +befitting the man who should wed so noble a woman as Brynhild.</p> + +<p>So it befell one day in summer that he dight himself in the Helm of +Aweing and the Mail-coat all of gold, and girded the Wrath to his side +to ride forth again. And on his saddle he bound the red rings of +Fafnir's Treasure.</p> + +<p>Then he kissed the ancient King Heimir, and hailed the folk of the +land who came to give him god-speed.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>And he gathered the reins together, and set his face to the road,<br /></span> +<span>And the glad steed neighed beneath him as they fared from the King's abode.<br /></span> +<span>And out past the dewy closes; but the shouts went up to the sky,<br /></span> +<span>Though some for very sorrow forbore the farewell cry,<br /></span> +<span>Nor was any man but heavy that the godlike guest should go;<br /></span> +<span>And they craved for that glad heart guileless, and that face without a foe.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But forth by dale and lealand doth the Son of Sigmund wend,<br /></span> +<span>Till far away lies Lymdale and the folk of the forest's end;<br /></span> +<span>And he rides a heath unpeopled and holds the westward way,<br /></span><a name='Page_94'></a> +<span>Till a long way off before him come up the mountains grey;<br /></span> +<span>Grey, huge beyond all telling, and the host of the heaped clouds,<br /></span> +<span>The black and the white together, on that rock-wall's coping crowds.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So up and down he rideth, till at even of the day<br /></span> +<span>A hill's brow he o'ertoppeth that had hid the mountains grey;<br /></span> +<span>Huge, blacker they showed than aforetime, white hung the cloud-flecks there,<br /></span> +<span>But red was the cloudy crown, for the sun was sinking fair:<br /></span> +<span>A wide plain lay beneath him, and a river through it wound<br /></span> +<span>Betwixt the lea and the acres, and the misty orchard ground;<br /></span> +<span>But forth from the feet of the mountains a ridgèd hill there ran<br /></span> +<span>That upreared at its hithermost ending a builded burg of man;<br /></span> +<span>And Sigurd deemed in his heart as he looked on the burg from afar,<br /></span> +<span>That the high Gods scarce might win it, if thereon they fell with war;<br /></span> +<span>So many and great were the walls, so bore the towers on high<br /></span> +<span>The threat of guarded battle, and the tale of victory.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>For as waves on the iron river of the days whereof nothing is told<br /></span> +<span>Stood up the many towers, so stark and sharp and cold;<br /></span> +<span>But dark-red and worn and ancient as the midmost mountain-sides<br /></span> +<span>Is the wall that goeth about them; and its mighty compass hides<br /></span> +<span>Full many a dwelling of man whence the reek now goeth aloft,<br /></span> +<span>And the voice of the house-abiders, the sharp sounds blent with the soft:<br /></span> +<span>But one house in the midst is unhidden and high up o'er the wall it goes;<br /></span> +<span>Aloft in the wind of the mountains its golden roof-ridge glows,<br /></span> +<span>And down mid its buttressed feet is the wind's voice never still;<br /></span> +<span>And the day and the night pass o'er it and it changes to their will,<br /></span> +<span>And whiles is it glassy and dark, and whiles is it white and dead,<br /></span> +<span>And whiles is it grey as the sea-mead, and whiles is it angry red;<br /></span> +<span>And it shimmers under the sunshine and grows black to the threat of the storm,<br /></span> +<span>And dusk its gold roof glimmers when the rain-clouds over it swarm,<br /></span><a name='Page_95'></a> +<span>And bright in the first of the morning its flame doth it uplift,<br /></span> +<span>When the light clouds rend before it and along its furrows drift.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then Sigurd's heart was glad as he beheld the city, and after a while +he came to a gate-way set in the northern wall, and the gate was long +and dark as a sea-cave. But no man stayed him as he rode through the +dusk to the inner court-yard, and saw the lofty roof of the hall +before him, cold now and grey like a very cloud, for the sun was +fully set. But in the towers watch-men were calling one to another. +To them he cried, saying:—</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Ho, men of this mighty burg, to what folk of the world am I come?<br /></span> +<span>And who is the King of battles who dwells in this lordly home?<br /></span> +<span>Or perchance are ye of the Elf-kin? are ye guest-fain, kind at the board,<br /></span> +<span>Or murder-churls and destroyers to gain and die by the sword?"<br /></span> +<span>Then the spears in the forecourt glittered and the swords shone over the wall,<br /></span> +<span>But the song of smitten harp-strings came faint from the cloudy hall.<br /></span> +<span>And he hearkened a voice and a crying: "The house of Giuki the King,<br /></span> +<span>And the Burg of the Niblung people and the heart of their warfaring."<br /></span> +<span>There were many men about him, and the wind in the wall-nook sang,<br /></span> +<span>And the spears of the Niblungs glittered, and the swords in the forecourt rang.<br /></span> +<span>But they looked on his face in the even, and they hushed their voices and gazed,<br /></span> +<span>For fear and great desire the hearts of men amazed.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now cometh an earl to King Giuki as he sits in godlike wise<br /></span> +<span>With his sons, the Kings of battle, and his wife of the glittering eyes,<br /></span> +<span>And the King cries out at his coming to tell why the watch-horns blew;<br /></span> +<span>But the earl saith: "Lord of the people, choose now what thou wilt do;<br /></span><a name='Page_96'></a> +<span>For here is a strange new-comer, and he saith, to thee alone<br /></span> +<span>Will he tell of his name and his kindred, and the deeds that his hand hath done."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then uprose the King of the Niblungs, and was clad in purple and pall,<br /></span> +<span>And his sheathed sword lay in his hand, as he gat him adown the hall,<br /></span> +<span>And abroad through the Niblung doorway; and a mighty man he was,<br /></span> +<span>And wise and ancient of days: so there by the earls doth he pass,<br /></span> +<span>And beholdeth the King on the war-steed and looketh up in his face:<br /></span> +<span>But Sigurd smileth upon him in the Niblungs' fencèd place,<br /></span> +<span>As the King saith: "Gold-bestrider, who into our garth wouldst ride,<br /></span> +<span>Wilt thou tell thy name to a King, who biddeth thee here abide<br /></span> +<span>And have all good at our hands? for unto the Niblungs' home<br /></span> +<span>And the heart of a war-fain people from the weary road are ye come;<br /></span> +<span>And I am Giuki the King: so now if thou nam'st thee a God,<br /></span> +<span>Look not to see me tremble; for I know of such that have trod<br /></span> +<span>Unfeared in the Burg of the Niblungs; nor worser, nor better at all<br /></span> +<span>May fare the folk of the Gods than the Kings in Giuki's hall;<br /></span> +<span>So I bid thee abide in my house, and when many days are o'er,<br /></span> +<span>Thou shalt tell us at last of thine errand, if thou bear us peace or war."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then all rejoiced at his word till the swords on the bucklers rang,<br /></span> +<span>And adown from the red-gold Treasure the Son of Sigmund sprang,<br /></span> +<span>And he took the hand of Giuki, and kissed him soft and sweet,<br /></span> +<span>And spake: "Hail, ancient of days! for thou biddest me things most meet,<br /></span> +<span>And thou knowest the good from the evil: few days are over and gone<br /></span> +<span>Since my father was old in the world ere the deed of my making was won;<br /></span> +<span>But Sigmund the Volsung he was, full ripe of years and of fame;<br /></span> +<span>And I, who have never beheld him, am Sigurd called of name;<br /></span> +<span>Too young in the world am I waxen that a tale thereof should be told,<br /></span> +<span>And yet have I slain the Serpent, and gotten the Ancient Gold,<br /></span><a name='Page_97'></a> +<span>And broken the bonds of the weary, and ridden the Wavering Fire.<br /></span> +<span>But short is mine errand to tell, and the end of my desire:<br /></span> +<span>For peace I bear unto thee, and to all the kings of the earth,<br /></span> +<span>Who bear the sword aright, and are crowned with the crown of worth;<br /></span> +<span>But unpeace to the lords of evil, and the battle and the death;<br /></span> +<span>And the edge of the sword to the traitor, and the flame to the slanderous breath:<br /></span> +<span>And I would that the loving were loved, and I would that the weary should sleep,<br /></span> +<span>And that man should hearken to man, and that he that soweth should reap.<br /></span> +<span>Now wide in the world would I fare, to seek the dwellings of Kings,<br /></span> +<span>For with them would I do and undo, and be heart of their warfarings;<br /></span> +<span>So I thank thee, lord, for thy bidding, and here in thine house will I bide,<br /></span> +<span>And learn of thine ancient wisdom till forth to the field we ride."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Glad then was the murmur of folk, for the tidings had gone forth,<br /></span> +<span>And its breath had been borne to the Niblungs, and the tale of Sigurd's worth.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But the King said: "Welcome, Sigurd, full fair of deed and of word!<br /></span> +<span>And here mayst thou win thee fellows for the days of the peace and the sword;<br /></span> +<span>For not lone in the world have I lived, but sons from my loins have sprung,<br /></span> +<span>Whose deeds with the rhyme are mingled, and their names with the people's tongue."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then he took his hand in his hand, and into the hall they passed,<br /></span> +<span>And great shouts of salutation to the cloudy roof were cast;<br /></span> +<span>And they rang from the glassy pillars, and the Gods on the hangings stirred,<br /></span> +<span>And afar the clustering eagles on the golden roof-ridge heard,<br /></span> +<span>And cried out on the Sword of the Branstock as they cried in the other days:<br /></span><a name='Page_98'></a> +<span>Then the harps rang out in the hall, and men sang in Sigurd's praise<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But now on the daïs he meeteth the kin of Giuki the wise:<br /></span> +<span>Lo, here is the crownèd Grimhild, the queen of the glittering eyes;<br /></span> +<span>Lo, here is the goodly Gunnar with the face of a king's desire;<br /></span> +<span>Lo, here is Hogni that holdeth the wisdom tried in the fire;<br /></span> +<span>Lo, here is Guttorm the youngest, who longs for the meeting swords;<br /></span> +<span>Lo, here, as a rose in the oak-boughs, amid the Niblung lords<br /></span> +<span>Is the Maid of the Niblungs standing, the white-armed Giuki's child;<br /></span> +<span>And all these looked long on Sigurd and their hearts upon him smiled.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then all gave him greeting as one who should be their fellow in mighty +deeds, and the fair-armed Gudrun, Giuki's daughter, brought him a cup +of welcome, and that night the Niblungs feasted in gladness of heart.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of Sigurd's warfaring in the company of the Niblungs, and of his great +fame and glory.</i></p> + +<p>So Sigurd abode with the Niblungs all through summer and harvest time +till with the stark midwinter came tidings of war. Then the earls of +Giuki donned dusky hauberks and led forth their bands from the +fortress, and the fair face and golden gear of Sigurd shone among +those swart-haired warriors.</p> + +<p>They fell on the cities of the plains, but none might resist the +valour of Sigurd, and the Niblungs turned in triumph from the war, +bringing rich spoil. So all that winter Sigurd fared to war with them +and grew greater in glory and more beloved of all men, but ever the +thoughts of his heart turned to Lymdale and to Brynhild who awaited +him there.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now sheathed is the Wrath of Sigurd; for as wax withstands the flame,<br /></span> +<span>So the Kings of the land withstood him and the glory of his fame.<br /></span><a name='Page_99'></a> +<span>And before the grass is growing, or the kine have fared from the stall,<br /></span> +<span>The song of the fair-speech-masters goes up in the Niblung hall,<br /></span> +<span>And they sing of the golden Sigurd and the face without a foe,<br /></span> +<span>And the lowly man exalted and the mighty brought alow:<br /></span> +<span>And they say, when the sun of summer shall come aback to the land,<br /></span> +<span>It shall shine on the fields of the tiller that fears no heavy hand;<br /></span> +<span>That the sheaf shall be for the plougher, and the loaf for him that sowed,<br /></span> +<span>Through every furrowed acre where the son of Sigmund rode.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Full dear was Sigurd the Volsung to all men most and least,<br /></span> +<span>And now, as the spring drew onward, 'twas deemed a goodly feast<br /></span> +<span>For the acre-biders' children by the Niblung Burg to wait,<br /></span> +<span>If perchance the Son of Sigmund should ride abroad by the gate:<br /></span> +<span>For whosoever feared him, no little-one, forsooth,<br /></span> +<span>Would shrink from the shining eyes and the hand that clave out truth<br /></span> +<span>From the heart of the wrack and the battle: it was then, as his gold gear burned<br /></span> +<span>O'er the balks of the bridge and the river, that oft the mother turned,<br /></span> +<span>And spake to the laughing baby: "O little son, and dear,<br /></span> +<span>When I from the world am departed, and whiles a-nights ye hear<br /></span> +<span>The best of man-folk longing for the least of Sigurd's days,<br /></span> +<span>Thou shalt hearken to their story, till they tell forth all his praise,<br /></span> +<span>And become beloved and a wonder, as thou sayest when all is sung,<br /></span> +<span>'And I too once beheld him in the days when I was young.'"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Yea, they sing the song of Sigurd and the face without a foe,<br /></span> +<span>And they sing of the prison's rending and the tyrant laid alow,<br /></span> +<span>And the golden thieves' abasement, and the stilling of the churl,<br /></span> +<span>And the mocking of the dastard where the chasing edges whirl;<br /></span> +<span>And they sing of the outland maidens that thronged round Sigurd's hand,<br /></span> +<span>And sung in the streets of the foemen of the war-delivered land;<br /></span><a name='Page_100'></a> +<span>And they tell how the ships of the merchants come free and go at their will,<br /></span> +<span>And how wives in peace and safety may crop the vine-clad hill;<br /></span> +<span>How the maiden sits in her bower, and the weaver sings at his loom,<br /></span> +<span>And forget the kings of grasping and the greedy days of gloom;<br /></span> +<span>For by sea and hill and township hath the Son of Sigmund been,<br /></span> +<span>And looked on the folk unheeded, and the lowly people seen.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But he stood in the sight of the people, and sweet he was to see,<br /></span> +<span>And no foe and no betrayer, and no envier now hath he:<br /></span> +<span>But Gunnar the bright in the battle deems him his earthly friend,<br /></span> +<span>And Hogni is fain of his fellow, howso the day's work end,<br /></span> +<span>And Guttorm the young is joyous of the help and gifts he hath;<br /></span> +<span>And all these would shine beside him in the glory of his path;<br /></span> +<span>There is none to hate or hinder, or mar the golden day,<br /></span> +<span>And the light of love flows plenteous, as the sun-beams hide the way.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of the Cup of evil drink that Grimhild the Wise-wife gave to Sigurd.</i></p> + +<p>Now Gudrun the daughter of Giuki beheld Sigurd's glory and knew the +kindness of his heart, and set her love on him, not knowing that all +his thoughts were given to Brynhild. So Sigurd, seeing her sad and in +no wise guessing the cause of her grief, strove to comfort her with +kindly words, but her mood was still unchanged.</p> + +<p>Then Grimhild the Queen, who was a witch-wife and a woman of crafty +mind, marked the love of Gudrun for Sigurd, and marked moreover how +his power and honour in the land would soon be greater than that of +her own sons. Therefore she cast about for some shift that might bind +Sigurd to serve with the Niblungs all his life-days.</p> + +<p>Now it befell one night that Sigurd had returned from warring and sat +on the high-seat to sup with the Niblung kings. His heart <a name='Page_101'></a>was merry +with victory and ever he thought of Hindfell and of Lymdale and the +love of Brynhild. The people waxed joyful, and the hangings whereon +glowed figures of the gods were stirred with their song and shouting +till Giuki called on Sigurd to take the harp and sing of deeds agone. +Then all men hearkened, hushed and happy, while Sigurd struck the +strings and sang of his mighty kin, of Volsung, of Signy, and of +Sigmund, their deeds and noble deaths. At last the tale was ended and +he fell silent thinking still of Brynhild.</p> + +<p>Now came Grimhild bearing him a cup of wine and speaking fair words +of praise, but in the wine she had mingled a fatal witch-drink. So +she stood by Sigurd and said:—</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>"There is none of the kings of kingdoms that may match thy goodlihead:<br /></span> +<span>Lo now, thou hast sung of thy fathers; but men shall sing of thee,<br /></span> +<span>And therewith shall our house be remembered, and great shall our glory be.<br /></span> +<span>I beseech thee hearken a little to a faithful word of mine,<br /></span> +<span>When thou of this cup hast drunken; for my love is blent with the wine."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>He laughed and took the cup: But therein with the blood of the earth<br /></span> +<span>Earth's hidden might was mingled, and deeds of the cold sea's birth,<br /></span> +<span>And things that the high Gods turn from, and a tangle of strange love,<br /></span> +<span>Deep guile and strong compelling, that whoso drank thereof<br /></span> +<span>Should remember not his longing, should cast his love away,<br /></span> +<span>Remembering dead desire but as night remembereth day.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So Sigurd looked on the horn, and he saw how fair it was scored<br /></span> +<span>With the cunning of the Dwarf-kind and the masters of the sword;<br /></span> +<span>And he drank and smiled on Grimhild above the beaker's rim,<br /></span> +<span>And she looked and laughed at his laughter; and the soul was changed in him.<br /></span><a name='Page_102'></a> +<span>Men gazed and their hearts sank in them, and they knew not why it was,<br /></span> +<span>Why the fair-lit hall was darkling, nor what had come to pass:<br /></span> +<span>For they saw the sorrow of Sigurd, who had seen but his deeds erewhile,<br /></span> +<span>And the face of the mighty darkened, who had known but the light of its smile.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But Grimhild looked and was merry: and she deemed her life was great,<br /></span> +<span>And her hand a wonder of wonders to withstand the deeds of Fate:<br /></span> +<span>For she saw by the face of Sigurd and the token of his eyes<br /></span> +<span>That her will had abased the valiant, and filled the faithful with lies.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But the heart was changed in Sigurd; as though it ne'er had been<br /></span> +<span>His love of Brynhild perished as he gazed on the Niblung Queen:<br /></span> +<span>Brynhild's belovèd body was e'en as a wasted hearth,<br /></span> +<span>No more for bale or blessing, for plenty or for dearth.<br /></span> +<span>—O ye that shall look hereafter, when the day of Sigurd is done,<br /></span> +<span>And the last of his deeds is accomplished, and his eyes are shut in the sun,<br /></span> +<span>When ye look and long for Sigurd, and the image of Sigurd behold,<br /></span> +<span>And his white sword still as the moon, and his strong hand heavy and cold,<br /></span> +<span>Then perchance shall ye think of this even, then perchance shall ye wonder and cry,<br /></span> +<span>"Twice over, King, are we smitten, and twice have we seen thee die."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Men say that a little after the evil of that night<br /></span> +<span>All waste is the burg of Brynhild, and there springeth a marvellous light<br /></span> +<span>On the desert hard by Lymdale, and few men know for why;<br /></span> +<span>But there are, who say that a wildfire thence roareth up to the sky<br /></span> +<span>Round a glorious golden dwelling, wherein there sitteth a Queen<br /></span> +<span>In remembrance of the wakening, and the slumber that hath been;<br /></span><a name='Page_103'></a> +<span>Wherein a Maid there sitteth, who knows not hope nor rest<br /></span> +<span>For remembrance of the Mighty, and the Best come forth from the Best.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Now after Sigurd took the witch-drink came a great hush upon the +feast-hall for a space. But Grimhild was fain of that hour and cried +to the scalds for music, and they hastened to strike the harp, but no +joy mingled with the sounds and no man was moved to singing.</p> + +<p>No word spake Sigurd till the feast was over; then he strode out +alone from the hall and the folk fell back before him. So he took a +steed and all that night he rode alone in the deedless dark, and all +the morrow, very heavy at heart yet knowing no cause for grief, and +remembering all things save Brynhild.</p> + +<p>At last he came again at sunset to the Niblung gates, and there came +forth Giuki and Grimhild and the Niblung brethren with fair words of +greeting, but in the doorway Gudrun stood and wept. So Sigurd entered +with them, yet he knew that a flood of sorrow had come on his +life-days and that no more might he feel the joy he had known +aforetime in the Niblung hall. Howbeit, when he looked on the people +and saw them in fear at his trouble, the kindness of his heart was +kindled, and thrusting the heavy sorrow aside, he lifted his head and +spake wise words of good cheer so that the folk looking on him were +comforted.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of the Wedding of Sigurd the Volsung.</i></p> + +<p>But Gudrun knew Sigurd's heart and was sorrowful because of his grief +and her great love for him, and when Grimhild bade her carry him wine, +she arose and took the cup but could find no word to speak for +anguish. And Sigurd looking on her face saw there a <a name='Page_104'></a>kindness and a +sorrow like his own, and seeing it he knew that she loved him. Then +pity and love for her rose in his heart and comforted him, and he +took the cup from her and spake, saying:—</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Here are glad men about us, and a joyous folk of war,<br /></span> +<span>And they that have loved thee for long, and they that have cherished mine heart;<br /></span> +<span>But we twain alone are woeful, as sad folk sitting apart.<br /></span> +<span>Ah, if I thy soul might gladden! if thy lips might give me peace!<br /></span> +<span>Then belike were we gladdest of all; for I love thee more than these.<br /></span> +<span>The cup of goodwill that thou bearest, and the greeting thou wouldst say,<br /></span> +<span>Turn these to the cup of thy love, and the words of the troth-plighting day;<br /></span> +<span>The love that endureth for ever, and the never-dying troth,<br /></span> +<span>To face the Norns' undoing, and the Gods amid their wrath."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>And his clear voice saith:<br /></span> +<span class='i8'>"O Gudrun, now hearken while I swear<br /></span> +<span>That the sun shall die for ever and the day no more be fair,<br /></span> +<span>Ere I forget thy pity and thine inmost heart of love!<br /></span> +<span>Yea, though the Kings be mighty, and the Gods be great above,<br /></span> +<span>I will wade the flood and the fire, and the waste of war forlorn,<br /></span> +<span>To look on the Niblung dwelling, and the house where thou wert born."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Strange seemed the words to Sigurd that his gathering love compelled,<br /></span> +<span>And sweet and strange desire o'er his tangled trouble welled.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But bright flashed the eyes of Gudrun, and she said: "King, as for me,<br /></span> +<span>If thou sawest the heart in my bosom, what oath might better thee?<br /></span> +<span>Yet my words thy words shall cherish, as thy lips my lips have done.<br /></span> +<span>—Herewith I swear, O Sigurd, that the earth shall hate the sun,<br /></span><a name='Page_105'></a> +<span>And the year desire but darkness, and the blossoms shrink from day,<br /></span> +<span>Ere my love shall fail, belovèd, or my longing pass away!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>So they twain went hand in hand to stand before Giuki and Grimhild +and the swart-haired Niblung brethren, and all these were +glad-hearted when they marked their joy and goodlihead. Then Sigurd +spake noble words of thanks to Giuki for all past kindness, and bade +Giuki call him son because he had that day bidden Gudrun to wife, and +he sware also to toil for her exalting and for the weal of all the +Niblung kin. Thereto Giuki answered glad-hearted, "Hail, Sigurd, son +of mine eld!" and called upon Grimhild the Queen to bless him.</p> + +<p>Thus was Sigurd troth-plight to the white-armed Gudrun, and all men +were fain of their love and spake nought but praise of him.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>Hark now, on the morrow morning how the blast of the mighty horn<br /></span> +<span>From the builded Burg of the Niblungs goes over the acres shorn,<br /></span> +<span>And the roads are gay with the riders, and the bull in the stall is left,<br /></span> +<span>And the plough is alone in the furrow, and the wedge in the hole half-cleft;<br /></span> +<span>And late shall the ewes be folded, and the kine come home to the pail,<br /></span> +<span>And late shall the fires be litten in the outmost treeless dale:<br /></span> +<span>For men fare to the gate of Giuki and the ancient cloudy hall,<br /></span> +<span>And therein are the earls assembled and the kings wear purple and pall,<br /></span> +<span>And the flowers are spread beneath them, and the bench-cloths beaten with gold;<br /></span> +<span>And the walls are strange and wondrous with the noble stories told:<br /></span> +<span>For new-hung is the ancient dwelling with the golden spoils of the south,<br /></span> +<span>And men seem merry for ever, and the praise is in each man's mouth,<br /></span> +<span>And the name of Sigurd the Volsung, the King and the Serpent's Bane,<br /></span><a name='Page_106'></a> +<span>Who exalteth the high this morning and blesseth the masters of gain:<br /></span> +<span>For men drink the bridal of Sigurd and the white-armed Niblung maid,<br /></span> +<span>And the best with the best shall be mingled, and the gold with the gold o'erlaid.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So, fair in the hall is the feasting and men's hearts are uplifted on high,<br /></span> +<span>And they deem that the best of their life-days are surely drawing anigh,<br /></span> +<span>As now, one after other, uprise the scalds renowned,<br /></span> +<span>And their well-belovèd voices awake the hoped-for sound,<br /></span> +<span>In the midmost of the high-tide, and the joy of feasting lords.<br /></span> +<span>Then cometh a hush and a waiting, and the light of many swords<br /></span> +<span>Flows into the hall of Giuki by the doorway of the King,<br /></span> +<span>And amid those flames of battle the war-clad warriors bring<br /></span> +<span>The Cup of daring Promise and the hallowed Boar of Sôn,<br /></span> +<span>And men's hearts grow big with longing and great is the hope-tide grown;<br /></span> +<span>For bright the Son of Sigmund ariseth by the board<br /></span> +<span>And unwinds the knitted peace-strings that hamper Regin's Sword:<br /></span> +<span>Then fierce is the light on the high-seat as men set down the Cup<br /></span> +<span>Anigh the hand of Sigurd, and the edges blue rise up,<br /></span> +<span>And fall on the hallowed Wood-beast: as a trump of the woeful war<br /></span> +<span>Rings the voice of the mighty Volsung as he speaks the words of yore:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"By the Earth that groweth and giveth, and by all the Earth's increase<br /></span> +<span>That is spent for Gods and man-folk; by the sun that shines on these;<br /></span> +<span>By the Salt-Sea-Flood that beareth the life and death of men;<br /></span> +<span>By the Heavens and Stars that change not, though earth die out again;<br /></span> +<span>By the wild things of the mountain, and the houseless waste and lone;<br /></span><a name='Page_107'></a> +<span>By the prey of the Goths in the thicket and the holy Beast of Sôn,<br /></span> +<span>I hallow me to Odin for a leader of his host,<br /></span> +<span>To do the deeds of the Highest, and never count the cost:<br /></span> +<span>And I swear, that whatso great-one shall show the day and the deed,<br /></span> +<span>I shall ask not why nor wherefore, but the sword's desire shall speed:<br /></span> +<span>And I swear to seek no quarrel, nor to swerve aside for aught,<br /></span> +<span>Though the right and the left be blooming, and the straight way wend to nought:<br /></span> +<span>And I swear to abide and hearken the prayer of any thrall,<br /></span> +<span>Though the war-torch be on the threshold and the foemen's feet in the hall:<br /></span> +<span>And I swear to sit on my throne in the guise of the kings of the earth,<br /></span> +<span>Though the anguish past amending, and the unheard woe have birth:<br /></span> +<span>And I swear to wend in my sorrow that none shall curse mine eyes<br /></span> +<span>For the scowl that quelleth beseeching, and the hate that scorneth the wise.<br /></span> +<span>So help me Earth and Heavens, and the Under-sky and Seas,<br /></span> +<span>And the Stars in their ordered houses, and the Norns that order these!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>And he drank of the Cup of the Promise, and fair as a star he shone,<br /></span> +<span>And all men rejoiced and wondered, and deemed Earth's glory won.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then came the girded maidens, and the slim earls' daughters poured,<br /></span> +<span>And uprose the dark-haired Gunnar and bare was the Niblung sword;<br /></span> +<span>Blue it gleamed in the hand of the folk-king as he laid it low on the Beast,<br /></span> +<span>And took oath as the Goths of aforetime in the hush of the people's feast:<br /></span> +<span>"I will work for the craving of Kings, and accomplish the will of the great,<br /></span> +<span>Nor ask what God withstandeth, nor hearken the tales of fate;<br /></span> +<span>When a King my life hath exalted, and wrought for my hope and my gain,<br /></span> +<span>For every deed he hath done me, thereto shall I fashion twain.<br /></span><a name='Page_108'></a> +<span>I shall bear forth the fame of the Niblungs through all that hindereth;<br /></span> +<span>In my life shall I win great glory, and be merry in my death."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So sweareth the lovely war-king and drinketh of the Cup,<br /></span> +<span>And the joy of the people waxeth and their glad cry goeth up.<br /></span> +<span>But again came the girded maidens: earls' daughters pour the wine,<br /></span> +<span>And bare is the blade of Hogni in the feast-hall over the Swine;<br /></span> +<span>Then he cries o'er the hallowed Wood-beast: "Earth, hearken, how I swear,<br /></span> +<span>To beseech no man for his helping, and to vex no God with prayer;<br /></span> +<span>And to seek out the will of the Norns, and look in the eyes of the curse;<br /></span> +<span>And to laugh while the love aboundeth, lest the glad world grow into worse;<br /></span> +<span>Then if in the murder I laugh not, O Earth, remember my name,<br /></span> +<span>And oft tell it aloud to the people for the Niblungs' fated shame!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then he drank of the Cup of the Promise, and all men hearkened and deemed<br /></span> +<span>That his speech was great and valiant, and as one of the wise he seemed.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then the linen-folded maidens of the earl-folk lift the gold,<br /></span> +<span>But the earls look each on the other, and Guttorm's place behold,<br /></span> +<span>And empty it lieth before them; for the child hath wearied of peace,<br /></span> +<span>And he sits by the oars in the East-seas, and winneth fame's increase.<br /></span> +<span>Nor then, nor ever after, o'er the Holy Beast he spake,<br /></span> +<span>When mighty hearts were exalted for the golden Sigurd's sake.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p><i>Sigurd rideth with the Niblungs, and wooeth Brynhild for King Gunnar.</i></p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now it fell on a day of the spring-tide that followed on these things,<br /></span> +<span>That Sigurd fares to the meadows with Gunnar and Hogni the Kings;<br /></span><a name='Page_109'></a> +<span>For afar is Guttorm the youngest, and he sails the Eastern Seas,<br /></span> +<span>And fares with war-shield hoisted to win him fame's increase.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>There stay those Kings of the people alone in weed of war,<br /></span> +<span>And they cut a strip of the greensward on the meadow's daisied floor,<br /></span> +<span>And loosen it clean in the midst, while its ends in the earth abide;<br /></span> +<span>Then they heave its midmost aloft, and set on either side<br /></span> +<span>An ancient spear of battle writ round with words of worth;<br /></span> +<span>And these are the posts of the door, whose threshold is of the earth,<br /></span> +<span>And the skin of the earth is its lintel: but with war-glaives gleaming bare<br /></span> +<span>The Niblung Kings and Sigurd beneath the earth-yoke fare;<br /></span> +<span>Then each an arm-vein openeth, and their blended blood falls down<br /></span> +<span>On Earth the fruitful Mother where they rent her turfy gown:<br /></span> +<span>And then, when the blood of the Volsungs hath run with the Niblung blood,<br /></span> +<span>They kneel with their hands upon it and swear the brotherhood:<br /></span> +<span>Each man at his brother's bidding to come with the blade in his hand,<br /></span> +<span>Though the fire and the flood should sunder, and the very Gods withstand:<br /></span> +<span>Each man to love and cherish his brother's hope and will;<br /></span> +<span>Each man to avenge his brother when the Norns his fate fulfill:<br /></span> +<span>And now are they foster-brethren, and in such wise have they sworn<br /></span> +<span>As the God-born Goths of aforetime, when the world was newly born.<br /></span> +<span>But among the folk of the Niblungs goes forth the tale of the same,<br /></span> +<span>And men deem the tidings a glory and the garland of their fame.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So is Sigurd yet with the Niblungs, and he loveth Gudrun his wife,<br /></span> +<span>And wendeth afield with the brethren to the days of the dooming of life;<br /></span> +<span>And nought his glory waneth, nor falleth the flood of praise:<br /></span> +<span>To every man he hearkeneth, nor gainsayeth any grace,<br /></span> +<span>And glad is the poor in the Doom-ring when he seeth his face mid the Kings,<br /></span> +<span>For the tangle straighteneth before him, and the maze of crookèd things.<br /></span><a name='Page_110'></a> +<span>But the smile is departed from him, and the laugh of Sigurd the young,<br /></span> +<span>And of few words now is he waxen, and his songs are seldom sung.<br /></span> +<span>Howbeit of all the sad-faced was Sigurd loved the best;<br /></span> +<span>And men say: Is the king's heart mighty beyond all hope of rest?<br /></span> +<span>Lo, how he beareth the people! how heavy their woes are grown!<br /></span> +<span>So oft were a God mid the Goth-folk, if he dwelt in the world alone.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Now Giuki the king was long grown old, and he died and was buried +beneath a great earth-mound high on the mountains.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>So there lieth Giuki the King, mid steel and the glimmer of gold,<br /></span> +<span>As the sound of the feastful Niblungs round his misty house is rolled:<br /></span> +<span>But Gunnar is King of the people, and the chief of the Niblung land;<br /></span> +<span>A man beloved for his mercy, and his might and his open hand;<br /></span> +<span>A glorious king in the battle, a hearkener at the doom,<br /></span> +<span>A singer to sing the sun up from the heart of the midnight gloom.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>On a day sit the Kings in the high-seat when Grimhild saith to her son:<br /></span> +<span>"O Gunnar, King belovèd, a fair life hast thou won;<br /></span> +<span>On the flood, in the field hast thou wrought, and hung the chambers with gold;<br /></span> +<span>Far abroad mid many a people are the tidings of thee told:<br /></span> +<span>Now do a deed for thy mother and the hallowed Niblung hearth,<br /></span> +<span>Lest the house of the mighty perish, and our tale grow wan with dearth.<br /></span> +<span>If thou do the deed that I bid thee, and wed a wife of the Kings,<br /></span> +<span>No less shalt thou cleave the war-helms and scatter the ruddy rings."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>He said: "Meseemeth, mother, thou speakest not in haste,<br /></span> +<span>But hast sought and found beforehand, lest thy fair words fall to waste."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>She said: "Thou sayest the sooth; I have found the thing I sought:<br /></span> +<span>A Maid for thee is shapen, and a Queen for thee is wrought:<br /></span> +<span>In the waste land hard by Lymdale a marvellous hall is built,<br /></span> +<span>With its roof of the red gold beaten, and its wall-stones over-gilt:<br /></span> +<span>Afar o'er the heath men see it, but no man draweth nigher,<br /></span> +<span>For the garth that goeth about it is nought but the roaring fire,<br /></span><a name='Page_111'></a> +<span>A white wall waving aloft; and no window nor wicket is there,<br /></span> +<span>Whereby the shielded earl-folk or the sons of the merchants may fare:<br /></span> +<span>But few things from me are hidden, and I know in that hall of gold<br /></span> +<span>Sits Brynhild, white as a wild-swan where the foamless seas are rolled;<br /></span> +<span>And the daughter of Kings of the world, and the sister of Queens is she,<br /></span> +<span>And wise, and Odin's Chooser, and the Breath of Victory:<br /></span> +<span>But for this cause sitteth she thus in the ring of the Wavering Flame,<br /></span> +<span>That no son of the Kings will she wed save the mightiest master of fame,<br /></span> +<span>And the man who knoweth not fear, and the man foredoomed of fate<br /></span> +<span>To ride through her Wavering Fire to the door of her golden gate:<br /></span> +<span>And for him she sitteth and waiteth, and him shall she cherish and love,<br /></span> +<span>Though the Kings of the world should withstand it, and the Gods that sit above.<br /></span> +<span>Speak thou, O mighty Gunnar!—nay rather, Sigurd my son,<br /></span> +<span>Say who but the lord of the Niblungs should wed with this glorious one?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Long Sigurd gazeth upon her, and slow he sayeth again:<br /></span> +<span>"I know thy will, my mother; of all the sons of men,<br /></span> +<span>Of all the Kings unwedded, and the kindred of the great,<br /></span> +<span>It is meet that my brother Gunnar should ride to her golden gate."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>In the May-morn riseth Gunnar with fair face and gleaming eyes,<br /></span> +<span>And he calleth on Sigurd his brother, and he calleth on Hogni the wise:<br /></span> +<span>"Today shall we fare to the wooing, for so doth our mother bid;<br /></span> +<span>We shall go to gaze on marvels, and things from the King-folk hid."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So they do on the best of their war-gear, and their steeds are dight for the road,<br /></span> +<span>And forth to the sun neigheth Greyfell as he neighed 'neath the Golden Load:<br /></span> +<span>But or ever they leap to the saddle, while yet in the door they stand,<br /></span> +<span>Thereto cometh Grimhild the wise-wife, and on each head layeth her hand,<br /></span><a name='Page_112'></a> +<span>As she saith: "Be mighty and wise, as the kings that came before!<br /></span> +<span>For they knew of the ways of the Gods, and the craft of the Gods they bore:<br /></span> +<span>And they knew how the shapes of man-folk are the very images<br /></span> +<span>Of the hearts that abide within them, and they knew of the shaping of these.<br /></span> +<span>Be wise and mighty, O Kings, and look in mine heart and behold<br /></span> +<span>The craft that prevaileth o'er semblance, and the treasured wisdom of old!<br /></span> +<span>I hallow you thus for the day, and I hallow you thus for the night,<br /></span> +<span>And I hallow you thus for the dawning with my fathers' hidden might.<br /></span> +<span>Go now, for ye bear my will while I sit in the hall and spin;<br /></span> +<span>And tonight shall be the weaving, and tomorn the web shall ye win."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So they leap to the saddles aloft, and they ride and speak no word,<br /></span> +<span>But the hills and the dales are awakened by the clink of the sheathèd sword:<br /></span> +<span>None looks in the face of the other, but the earth and the heavens gaze,<br /></span> +<span>And behold those kings of battle ride down the dusty ways.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So they come to the Waste of Lymdale when the afternoon is begun,<br /></span> +<span>And afar they see the flame-blink on the grey sky under the sun:<br /></span> +<span>And they spur and speak no word, and no man to his fellow will turn;<br /></span> +<span>But they see the hills draw upward and the earth beginning to burn:<br /></span> +<span>And they ride, and the eve is coming, and the sun hangs low o'er the earth,<br /></span> +<span>And the red flame roars up to it from the midst of the desert's dearth.<br /></span> +<span>None turns or speaks to his brother, but the Wrath gleams bare and red,<br /></span> +<span>And blood-red is the Helm of Aweing on the golden Sigurd's head,<br /></span> +<span>And bare is the blade of Gunnar, and the first of the three he rides,<br /></span> +<span>And the wavering wall is before him and the golden sun it hides.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then the heart of a king's son failed not, but he tossed his sword on high<br /></span> +<span>And laughed as he spurred for the fire, and cried the Niblung cry;<br /></span><a name='Page_113'></a> +<span>But the mare's son saw and imagined, and the battle-eager steed,<br /></span> +<span>That so oft had pierced the spear-hedge and never failed at need,<br /></span> +<span>Shrank back, and shrieked in his terror, and spite of spur and rein<br /></span> +<span>Fled fast as the foals unbitted on Odin's pasturing plain;<br /></span> +<span>Wide then he wheeled with Gunnar, but with hand and knee he dealt,<br /></span> +<span>And the voice of a lord belovèd, till the steed his master felt,<br /></span> +<span>And bore him back to the brethren; by Greyfell Sigurd stood,<br /></span> +<span>And stared at the heart of the fire, and his helm was red as blood;<br /></span> +<span>But Hogni sat in his saddle, and watched the flames up-roll;<br /></span> +<span>And he said: "Thy steed has failed thee that was once the noblest foal<br /></span> +<span>In the pastures of King Giuki; but since thine heart fails not,<br /></span> +<span>And thou wouldst not get thee backward and say, The fire was hot,<br /></span> +<span>And the voices pent within it were singing nought but death,<br /></span> +<span>Let Sigurd lend thee his steed that wore the Glittering Heath,<br /></span> +<span>And carried the Bed of the Serpent, and the ancient ruddy rings.<br /></span> +<span>So perchance may the mocks be lesser when men tell of the Niblung Kings."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Sigurd looked on the twain, and he saw their swart hair wave<br /></span> +<span>In the wind of the waste and the flame-blast, and no answer awhile he gave.<br /></span> +<span>But at last he spake: "O brother, on Greyfell shalt thou ride,<br /></span> +<span>And do on the Helm of Aweing and gird the Wrath to thy side,<br /></span> +<span>And cover thy breast with the war-coat that is throughly woven of gold,<br /></span> +<span>That hath not its like in the heavens nor has earth of its fellow told:<br /></span> +<span>For this is the raiment of Kings when they ride the Flickering Fire,<br /></span> +<span>And so sink the flames before them and the might of their desire."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Hogni laughed in his heart, and he said: "This changing were well<br /></span> +<span>If so might the deed be accomplished; but perchance there is more to tell:<br /></span> +<span>Thou shalt take the war-steed, Gunnar, and enough or nought it shall be:<br /></span> +<span>But the coal-blue gear of the Niblungs the golden hall shall see."<br /></span><a name='Page_114'></a> +<span>Then Sigurd looked on the speaker, as one who would answer again,<br /></span> +<span>But his words died out on the waste and the fire-blast made them vain.<br /></span> +<span>Then he casteth the reins to his brother, and Gunnar praiseth his gift,<br /></span> +<span>And springeth aloft to the saddle as the fair sun fails from the lift;<br /></span> +<span>And Sigurd looks on the burden that Greyfell doth uprear,<br /></span> +<span>The huge king towering upward in the dusky Niblung gear:<br /></span> +<span>There sits the eager Gunnar, and his heart desires the deed,<br /></span> +<span>And of nought he recketh and thinketh, but a fame-stirred warrior's need;<br /></span> +<span>But Greyfell trembleth nothing and nought of the fire doth reck:<br /></span> +<span>Then the spurs in his flank are smitten, and the reins lie loose on his neck,<br /></span> +<span>And the sharp cry springeth from Gunnar—no handbreadth stirred the beast;<br /></span> +<span>The dusk drew on and over and the light of the fire increased,<br /></span> +<span>And still as a shard on the mountain in the sandy dale alone<br /></span> +<span>Was the shape of the cloudy Greyfell, nor moved he more than the stone;<br /></span> +<span>But right through the heart of the fire for ever Sigurd stared,<br /></span> +<span>As he stood in the gold red-litten with the Wrath's thin edges bared.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>No word for a while spake any, till Gunnar leaped to the earth,<br /></span> +<span>And the anger wrought within him, and the fierce words came to birth:<br /></span> +<span>"Who mocketh the King of the Niblungs in the desert land forlorn?<br /></span> +<span>Is it thou, O Sigurd the Stranger? is it thou, O younger-born?<br /></span> +<span>Dost thou laugh in the hall, O Mother? dost thou spin, and laugh at the tale<br /></span> +<span>That has drawn thy son and thine eldest to the sword and the blaze of the bale?<br /></span> +<span>Or thou, O God of the Goths, wilt thou hide and laugh thy fill,<br /></span> +<span>While the hands of the foster-brethren the blood of brothers spill?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But the awful voice of Sigurd across the wild went forth:<br /></span> +<span>"How changed are the words of Gunnar! where wend his ways of worth?<br /></span><a name='Page_115'></a> +<span>I mock thee not in the desert, as I mocked thee not in the mead,<br /></span> +<span>When I swore beneath the turf-yoke to help thy fondest need:<br /></span> +<span>Nay, strengthen thine heart for the work, for the gift that thy manhood awaits;<br /></span> +<span>For I give thee a gift, O Niblung, that shall overload the Fates,<br /></span> +<span>And how may a King sustain it? but forbear with the dark to strive;<br /></span> +<span>For thy mother spinneth and worketh, and her craft is awake and alive."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Hogni spake from the saddle: "The time, and the time is come<br /></span> +<span>To gather the might of our mother, and of her that spinneth at home.<br /></span> +<span>Forbear all words, O Gunnar, and anigh to Sigurd stand,<br /></span> +<span>And face to face behold him, and take his hand in thine hand:<br /></span> +<span>Then be thy will as his will, that his heart may mingle with thine,<br /></span> +<span>And the love that he sware 'neath the earth-yoke with thine hope may intertwine."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then the wrath from the Niblung slippeth and the shame that anger hath bred,<br /></span> +<span>And the heavy wings of the dreamtide flit over Gunnar's head:<br /></span> +<span>But he doth by his brother's bidding, and Sigurd's hand he takes,<br /></span> +<span>And he looks in the eyes of the Volsung, though scarce in the desert he wakes.<br /></span> +<span>There Hogni sits in the saddle aloof from the King's desire,<br /></span> +<span>And little his lips are moving, as he stares on the rolling fire,<br /></span> +<span>And mutters the spells of his mother, and the words she bade him say:<br /></span> +<span>But the craft of the kings of aforetime on those Kings of the battle lay;<br /></span> +<span>Dark night was spread behind them, and the fire flared up before,<br /></span> +<span>And unheard was the wind of the wasteland mid the white flame's wavering roar.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Long Sigurd gazeth on Gunnar, till he sees, as through a cloud,<br /></span> +<span>The long black locks of the Niblung, and the King's face set and proud:<br /></span> +<span>Then the face is alone on the dark, and the dusky Niblung mail<br /></span><a name='Page_116'></a> +<span>Is nought but the night before him: then whiles will the visage fail,<br /></span> +<span>And grow again as he gazeth, black hair and gleaming eyes,<br /></span> +<span>And fade again into nothing, as for more of vision he tries:<br /></span> +<span>Then all is nought but the night, yea the waste of an emptier thing,<br /></span> +<span>And the fire-wall Sigurd forgetteth, nor feeleth the hand of the King:<br /></span> +<span>Nay, what is it now he remembereth? it is nought that aforetime he knew,<br /></span> +<span>And no world is there left him to live in, and no deed to rejoice in or rue;<br /></span> +<span>But frail and alone he fareth, and as one in the sphere-stream's drift,<br /></span> +<span>By the starless empty places that lie beyond the lift:<br /></span> +<span>Then at last is he stayed in his drifting, and he saith, It is blind and dark;<br /></span> +<span>Yet he feeleth the earth at his feet, and there cometh a change and a spark,<br /></span> +<span>And away in an instant of time is the mirk of the dreamland rolled,<br /></span> +<span>And there is the fire-lit midnight, and before him an image of gold,<br /></span> +<span>A man in the raiment of Gods, nor fashioned worser than they:<br /></span> +<span>Full sad he gazeth on Sigurd from the great wide eyes and grey;<br /></span> +<span>And the Helm that Aweth the people is set on the golden hair,<br /></span> +<span>And the Mail of Gold enwraps him, and the Wrath in his hand is bare.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Sigurd looks on his arm and his hand in his brother's hand,<br /></span> +<span>And thereon is the dark grey mail-gear well forged in the southern land;<br /></span> +<span>Then he looks on the sword that he beareth, and, lo, the eager blade<br /></span> +<span>That leaps in the hand of Gunnar when the kings are waxen afraid;<br /></span> +<span>And he turns his face o'er his shoulder, and the raven-locks hang down<br /></span> +<span>From the dark-blue helm of the Dwarf-folk, and the rings of the Niblung crown.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then a red flush riseth against him in the face ne'er seen before,<br /></span> +<span>Save dimly in the mirror or the burnished targe of war,<br /></span> +<span>And the foster-brethren sunder, and the clasped hands fall apart;<br /></span> +<span>But a change cometh over Sigurd, and the fierce pride leaps in his heart;<br /></span><a name='Page_117'></a> +<span>He knoweth the soul of Gunnar, and the shaping of his mind;<br /></span> +<span>He seeketh the words of Sigurd, and Gunnar's voice doth he find,<br /></span> +<span>As he cries: "I know thy bidding; let the world be lief or loth,<br /></span> +<span>The child is unborn that shall hearken how Sigurd rued his oath!<br /></span> +<span>Well fare thou brother Gunnar! what deed shall I do this eve<br /></span> +<span>That I shall never repent of, that thine heart shall never grieve?<br /></span> +<span>What deed shall I do this even that none else may bring to the birth,<br /></span> +<span>Nay, not the King of the Niblungs, and the lord of the best of the earth?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>The flames rolled up to the heavens, and the stars behind were bright,<br /></span> +<span>Dark Hogni sat on his war-steed, and stared out into the night,<br /></span> +<span>And there stood Gunnar the King in Sigurd's semblance wrapped,<br /></span> +<span>—As Sigurd walking in slumber, for in Grimhild's guile was he lapped,<br /></span> +<span>That his heart forgat his glory, and the ways of Odin's lords,<br /></span> +<span>And the thought was frozen within him, and the might of spoken words.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But Sigurd leapeth on Greyfell, and the sword in his hand is bare,<br /></span> +<span>And the gold spurs flame on his heels, and the fire-blast lifteth his hair;<br /></span> +<span>Forth Greyfell bounds rejoicing, and they see the grey wax red,<br /></span> +<span>As unheard the war-gear clasheth, and the flames meet over his head,<br /></span> +<span>Yet a while they see him riding, as through the rye men ride,<br /></span> +<span>When the word goes forth in the summer of the kings by the ocean-side;<br /></span> +<span>But the fires were slaked before him and the wild-fire burned no more<br /></span> +<span>Than the ford of the summer waters when the rainy time is o'er.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Not once turned Sigurd aback, nor looked o'er the ashy ring,<br /></span> +<span>To the midnight wilderness drear and the spell-drenched Niblung King:<br /></span> +<span>But he stayed and looked before him, and lo, a house high-built<br /></span> +<span>With its roof of the red gold beaten, and its wall-stones over-gilt:<br /></span> +<span>So he leapt adown from Greyfell, and came to that fair abode,<br /></span><a name='Page_118'></a> +<span>And dark in the gear of the Niblungs through the gleaming door he strode:<br /></span> +<span>All light within was that dwelling, and a marvellous hall it was,<br /></span> +<span>But of gold were its hangings woven, and its pillars gleaming as glass,<br /></span> +<span>And Sigurd said in his heart, it was wrought erewhile for a God:<br /></span> +<span>But he looked athwart and endlong as alone its floor he trod,<br /></span> +<span>And lo, on the height of the daïs is upreared a graven throne,<br /></span> +<span>And thereon a woman sitting in the golden place alone;<br /></span> +<span>Her face is fair and awful, and a gold crown girdeth her head;<br /></span> +<span>And a sword of the kings she beareth, and her sun-bright hair is shed<br /></span> +<span>O'er the laps of the snow-white linen that ripples adown to her feet:<br /></span> +<span>As a swan on the billow unbroken ere the firth and the ocean meet,<br /></span> +<span>On the dark-blue cloths she sitteth, in the height of the golden place,<br /></span> +<span>Nor breaketh the hush of the hall, though her eyes be set on his face.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now he sees this is even the woman of whom the tale hath been told,<br /></span> +<span>E'en she that was wrought for the Niblungs, the bride ordained from of old,<br /></span> +<span>And hushed in the hall he standeth, and a long while looks in her eyes,<br /></span> +<span>And the word he hath shapen for Gunnar to his lips may never arise.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>The man in Gunnar's semblance looked long and knew no deed;<br /></span> +<span>And she looked, and her eyes were dreadful, and none would help her need.<br /></span> +<span>Then the image of Gunnar trembled, and the flesh of the War-King shrank;<br /></span> +<span>For he heard her voice on the silence, and his heart of her anguish drank:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"King, King, who art thou that comest, thou lord of the cloudy gear?<br /></span> +<span>What deed for the weary-hearted shall thy strange hands fashion here?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>The speech of her lips pierced through him like the point of the bitter sword,<br /></span> +<span>And he deemed that death were better than another spoken word;<br /></span> +<span>But he clencheth his hand on the war-blade, and setteth his face as the brass,<br /></span><a name='Page_119'></a> +<span>And the voice of his brother Gunnar from out his lips doth pass:<br /></span> +<span>"When thou lookest on me, O Goddess, thou seest Gunnar the King,<br /></span> +<span>The King and the lord of the Niblungs, and the chief of their warfaring.<br /></span> +<span>But art thou indeed that Brynhild of whom is the rumour and fame,<br /></span> +<span>That she bideth the coming of kings to ride her Wavering Flame,<br /></span> +<span>Lest she wed the little-hearted, and the world grow evil and vile?<br /></span> +<span>For if thou be none other I will speak again in a while."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>She said: "Art thou Gunnar the Stranger! O art thou the man that I see?<br /></span> +<span>Yea, verily I am Brynhild; what other is like unto me?<br /></span> +<span>O men of the Earth behold me! hast thou seen, O labouring Earth,<br /></span> +<span>Such sorrow as my sorrow, or such evil as my birth?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then spake the Wildfire's Trampler that Gunnar's image bore:<br /></span> +<span>"O Brynhild, mighty of women, be thou glorious evermore!<br /></span> +<span>Thou seest Gunnar the Niblung, as he sits mid the Niblung lords,<br /></span> +<span>And rides with the gods of battle in the fore-front of the swords."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Hard rang his voice in the hall, and a while she spake no word,<br /></span> +<span>And there stood the Image of Gunnar, and leaned on his bright blue sword:<br /></span> +<span>But at last she cried from the high-seat: "If I yet am alive and awake,<br /></span> +<span>I know no words for the speaking, nor what answer I may make."<br /></span> +<span>She ceased and he answered nothing; and a hush on the hall there lay<br /></span> +<span>And the moon slipped over the windows as he clomb the heavenly way;<br /></span> +<span>And no whit stirred the raiment of Brynhild: till she hearkened the Wooer's voice,<br /></span> +<span>As he said: "Thou art none of the women that swear and forswear and rejoice,<br /></span> +<span>Forgetting the sorrow of kings and the Gods and the labouring earth.<br /></span> +<span>Thou shall wed with King Gunnar the Niblung and increase his worth with thy worth."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'><a name='Page_120'></a> +<span>So spake he in semblance of Gunnar, and from off his hand he drew<br /></span> +<span>A ring of the spoils of the Southland, a marvel seen but of few,<br /></span> +<span>And he set the ring on her finger, and she turned to her lord and spake:<br /></span> +<span>"I thank thee, King, for thy goodwill, and thy pledge of love I take.<br /></span> +<span>Depart with my troth to thy people: but ere full ten days are o'er<br /></span> +<span>I shall come to the Sons of the Niblungs, and then shall we part no more<br /></span> +<span>Till the day of the change of our life-days, when Odin and Freyia shall call.<br /></span> +<span>Lo, here, my gift of the morning! 'twas my dearest treasure of all;<br /></span> +<span>But thou art become its master, and for thee was it fore-ordained,<br /></span> +<span>Since thou art the man of mine oath and the best that the earth hath gained."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>And lo, 'twas the Grief of Andvari, and the lack that made him loth,<br /></span> +<span>The last of the God-folk's ransom, the Ring of Hindfell's oath;<br /></span> +<span>Now on Sigurd's hand it shineth, and long he looketh thereon,<br /></span> +<span>But it gave him back no memories of the days that were bygone.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So forth from the hall goes the Wooer, and slow and slow he goes,<br /></span> +<span>As a conquered king from his city fares forth to meet his foes;<br /></span> +<span>And he taketh the reins of Greyfell, nor yet will back him there,<br /></span> +<span>But afoot through the cold slaked ashes of yester-eve doth fare,<br /></span> +<span>With his eyes cast down to the earth; till he heareth the wind, and a cry,<br /></span> +<span>And raiseth a face brow-knitted and beholdeth men anigh,<br /></span> +<span>And beholdeth Hogni the King set grey on his coal-black steed,<br /></span> +<span>And beholdeth the image of Sigurd, the King in the golden weed:<br /></span> +<span>Then he stayeth and stareth astonished and setteth his hand to his sword;<br /></span> +<span>Till Hogni cries from his saddle, and his word is a kindly word:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Hail, brother, the King of the people! hail, helper of my kin!<br /></span> +<span>Again from the death and the trouble great gifts hast thou set thee to win<br /></span><a name='Page_121'></a> +<span>For thy friends and the Niblung children, and hast crowned thine earthly fame,<br /></span> +<span>And increased thine exceeding glory and the sound of thy lovèd name."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Nought Sigurd spake in answer but looked straight forth with a frown,<br /></span> +<span>And stretched out his hand to Gunnar, as one that claimeth his own.<br /></span> +<span>Then no word speaketh Gunnar, but taketh his hand in his hand,<br /></span> +<span>And they look in the eyes of each other, and a while in the desert they stand<br /></span> +<span>Till the might of Grimhild prevaileth, and the twain are as yester-morn;<br /></span> +<span>But sad was the golden Sigurd, though his eyes knew nought of scorn;<br /></span> +<span>And he spake:</span> +<span class='i4'>"It is finished, O Gunnar! and I will that our brotherhood<br /></span> +<span>May endure through the good and the evil as it sprang in the days of the good:<br /></span> +<span>But I bid thee look to the ending, that the deed I did yest'reve<br /></span> +<span>Bear nought for me to repent of, for thine heart of hearts to grieve.<br /></span> +<span>Thou art troth-plight, O King of the Niblungs, to Brynhild Queen of the earth,<br /></span> +<span>She hath sworn thine heart to cherish and increase thy worth with her worth:<br /></span> +<span>She shall come to the house of Gunnar ere ten days are past and o'er;<br /></span> +<span>And thenceforth the life of Brynhild shall part from thy life no more,<br /></span> +<span>Till the doom of our kind shall speed you, and Odin and Freyia shall call,<br /></span> +<span>And ye bide the Day of the Battle, and the uttermost changing of all."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>The praise and thanks they gave him! the words of love they spake!<br /></span> +<span>The tale that the world should hear of, deeds done for Sigurd's sake!<br /></span> +<span>They were lovely might you hear them: but they lack; for in very deed<br /></span> +<span>Their sound was clean forgotten in the day of Sigurd's need.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So that night in the hall of the ancient they hold high-tide again,<br /></span><a name='Page_122'></a> +<span>And the Gods on the Southland hangings smile out full fair and fain,<br /></span> +<span>And the song goes up of Sigurd, and the praise of his fame fulfilled,<br /></span> +<span>But his speech in the dead sleep lieth, and the words of his wisdom are chilled:<br /></span> +<span>And men say, the King is careful, for he thinks of the people's weal,<br /></span> +<span>And his heart is afraid for our trouble, lest the Gods our joyance steal.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But that night, when the feast was over, to Gudrun Sigurd came,<br /></span> +<span>And she noted the ring on his finger, and she knew it was nowise the same<br /></span> +<span>As the ring he was wont to carry; so she bade him tell thereof:<br /></span> +<span>Then he turned unto her kindly, and his words were words of love;<br /></span> +<span>Nor his life nor his death he heeded, but told her last night's tale:<br /></span> +<span>Yea, he drew forth the sword for his slaying, and whetted the edges of bale;<br /></span> +<span>For he took that Gold of Andvari, that Curse of the uttermost land,<br /></span> +<span>And he spake as a king that loveth, and set it on her hand;<br /></span> +<span>But her heart was exceeding joyous, as he kissed her sweet and soft,<br /></span> +<span>And bade her bear it for ever, that she might remember him oft<br /></span> +<span>When his hand from the world was departed and he sat in Odin's home.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p><i>How Brynhild was wedded to Gunnar the Niblung.</i></p> + +<p>So ten days wore over, and on the morrow-morn the folk were all astir +in the Niblung house, till the watchers on the towers cried to them +tidings of a goodly company drawing nigh upon the road. Then the +Niblungs got them to horse in glittering-gay raiment and went forth to +meet the people of Brynhild.</p> + +<p>First rode bands of maidens arrayed in fine linen and blue-broidered +cloaks, and after them came a golden wain with horses of snowy white and +bench-cloths of blue, and therein sat Brynhild alone, clad in swan-white +raiment and crowned with gold. Then <a name='Page_123'></a>they hailed her sweet and goodly, and +so she entered the darksome gate-way and came within the Niblung Burg.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>So fair in the sun of the forecourt doth Brynhild's wain shine bright,<br /></span> +<span>And the huge hall riseth before her, and the ernes cry out from its height,<br /></span> +<span>And there by the door of the Niblungs she sees huge warriors stand,<br /></span> +<span>Dark-clad, by the shoulders greater than the best of any land,<br /></span> +<span>And she knoweth the chiefs of the Niblungs, the dreaded dukes of war:<br /></span> +<span>But one in cloudy raiment stands a very midst the door,<br /></span> +<span>And ruddy and bright is his visage, and his black locks wave in the wind,<br /></span> +<span>And she knoweth the King of the Niblungs and the man she came to find:<br /></span> +<span>Then nought she lingered nor loitered, but stepped to the earth adown<br /></span> +<span>With right-hand reached to the War-God, the wearer of the crown;<br /></span> +<span>And she said:<br /></span> +<span class='i4'>"I behold thee, Gunnar, the King of War that rode<br /></span> +<span>Through the waves of the Flickering Fire to the door of mine abode,<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"And for this I needs must deem thee the best of all men born,<br /></span> +<span>The highest-hearted, the greatest, the staunchest of thy love:<br /></span> +<span>And that such the world yet holdeth, my heart is fain thereof:<br /></span> +<span>And for thee I deem was I fashioned, and for thee the oath I swore<br /></span> +<span>In the days of my glory and wisdom, ere the days of youth were o'er.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"May the fire ne'er stay thy glory, nor the ocean-flood thy fame!<br /></span> +<span>Through ages of all ages may the wide world praise thy name!<br /></span> +<span>Yea, oft may the word be spoken when low we lie at rest;<br /></span> +<span>'It befell in the days of Gunnar, the happiest and the best!'<br /></span> +<span>All this may the high Gods give thee, and thereto a gift I give,<br /></span> +<span>The body of Queen Brynhild so long as both we live."<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class='stanza'> +<span>With unmoved face, unfaltering, the blessing-words she said,<br /></span> +<span>But the joy sprang up in Gunnar and increased his goodlihead,<br /></span><a name='Page_124'></a> +<span>And he cast his arms about her and kissed her on the mouth,<br /></span> +<span>And he said:<br /></span> +<span class='i4'>"The gift is greater than all treasure of the south;<br /></span> +<span>As glad as my heart this moment, so glad may be thy life,<br /></span> +<span>And the world be never weary of the joy of Gunnar's wife!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>She spake no word, and smiled not, but she held his hand henceforth.<br /></span> +<span>And he said; "Now take the greetings of my men, the most of worth."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then she turned her face to the war-dukes, and hearkened to their praise,<br /></span> +<span>And she spake in few words sweetly, and blessed their coming days.<br /></span> +<span>Then again spake Gunnar and said: "Lo, Hogni my brother is this;<br /></span> +<span>But Guttorm is far on the East-seas, and seeketh the warrior's bliss;<br /></span> +<span>A third there is of my brethren, and my house holds none so great;<br /></span> +<span>In the hall by the side of my sister thy face doth he await."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then Brynhild gave fair greeting to Hogni, but anon she turned and +questioned Gunnar of his words concerning that brother who awaited her +in the hall. "I deemed the sons of Giuki had been but three," said +Brynhild. "This fourth, this hall-abider the mighty,—is he akin to +thee?"</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>And Gunnar answered:<br /></span> +<span class='i8'>"He is nought of our blood,<br /></span> +<span>But the Gods have sent him to usward to work us measureless good:<br /></span> +<span>It is even Sigurd the Volsung, the best man ever born,<br /></span> +<span>The man that the Gods withstand not, my friend, and my brother sworn."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>She heard the name, and she changed not, but her feet went forth as he led,<br /></span> +<span>And under the cloudy roof-tree Queen Brynhild bowed her head.<br /></span> +<span>Then, were there a man so ancient as had lived beyond his peers<br /></span> +<span>On the earth, that beareth all things, a twice-told tale of years,<br /></span><a name='Page_125'></a> +<span>He had heard no sound so mighty as the shout that shook the wall<br /></span> +<span>When Brynhild's feet unhearkened first trod the Niblung hall.<br /></span> +<span>No whit the clamour stirred her; but her godlike eyes she raised<br /></span> +<span>And betwixt the hedge of the earl-folk on the golden high-seat gazed,<br /></span> +<span>And the man that sat by Gudrun: but e'en as the rainless cloud<br /></span> +<span>Ere the first of the tempest ariseth the latter sun doth shroud,<br /></span> +<span>And men look round and shudder, so Grimhild came between<br /></span> +<span>The silent golden Sigurd and the eyes of the mighty Queen,<br /></span> +<span>And again heard Brynhild greeting, and again she spake and said:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"O Mother of the Niblungs, such hap be on thine head,<br /></span> +<span>As thy love for me, the stranger, was past the pain of words!<br /></span> +<span>Mayst thou see thy son's sons glorious in the meeting of the swords!<br /></span> +<span>Mayst thou sleep and doubt thee nothing of the fortunes of thy race!<br /></span> +<span>Mayst thou hear folk call yon high-seat the earth's most happy place!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then the Wise-wife hushed before her, and a little fell aside,<br /></span> +<span>And nought from the eyes of Brynhild the high-seat now did hide;<br /></span> +<span>And the face so long desired, unchanged from time agone,<br /></span> +<span>In the house of the Cloudy People from the Niblung high-seat shone:<br /></span> +<span>She stood with her hand in Gunnar's, and all about and around<br /></span> +<span>Were the unfamiliar faces, and the folk that day had found;<br /></span> +<span>But her heart ran back through the years, and yet her lips did move<br /></span> +<span>With the words she spake on Hindfell, when they plighted troth of love.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Lo, Sigurd fair on the high-seat by the white-armed Gudrun's side,<br /></span> +<span>In the midst of the Cloudy People, in the dwelling of their pride!<br /></span> +<span>His face is exceeding glorious and awful to behold;<br /></span> +<span>For of all his sorrow he knoweth and his hope smit dead and cold:<br /></span> +<span>The will of the Norns is accomplished, and, lo, they wend on their ways,<br /></span> +<span>And leave the mighty Sigurd to deal with the latter days:<br /></span> +<span>The Gods look down from heaven, and the lonely King they see,<br /></span> +<span>And sorrow over his sorrow, and rejoice in his majesty.<br /></span><a name='Page_126'></a> +<span>For the will of the Norns is accomplished, and outworn is Grimhild's spell,<br /></span> +<span>And nought now shall blind or help him, and the tale shall be to tell:<br /></span> +<span>He hath seen the face of Brynhild, and he knows why she hath come,<br /></span> +<span>And that his is the hand that hath drawn her to the Cloudy People's home:<br /></span> +<span>He knows of the net of the days, and the deeds that the Gods have bid,<br /></span> +<span>And no whit of the sorrow that shall be from his wakened soul is hid:<br /></span> +<span>And his glory his heart restraineth, and restraineth the hand of the strong<br /></span> +<span>From the hope of the fools of desire and the wrong that amendeth wrong.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>And Brynhild's face drew near him with eyes grown stern and strange.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now she stands on the floor of the high-seat, and for e'en so little a space<br /></span> +<span>As men may note delaying, she looketh on Sigurd's face,<br /></span> +<span>Ere she saith:<br /></span> +<span class='i4'>"I have greeted many in the Niblungs' house today,<br /></span> +<span>And for thee is the last of my greetings ere the feast shall wear away:<br /></span> +<span>Hail, Sigurd, son of the Volsungs! hail, lord of Odin's storm!<br /></span> +<span>Hail, rider of the wasteland and slayer of the Worm!<br /></span> +<span>If aught thy soul shall desire while yet thou livest on earth,<br /></span> +<span>I pray that thou mayst win it, nor forget its might and worth."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>All grief, sharp scorn, sore longing, stark death in her voice he knew,<br /></span> +<span>But gone forth is the doom of the Norns, and what shall he answer thereto,<br /></span> +<span>While the death that amendeth lingers? and they twain shall dwell for awhile<br /></span> +<span>In the Niblung house together by the hearth that forged the guile.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So he spake as a King of the people in whom all fear is dead,<br /></span> +<span>And his anguish no man noted, as the greeting-words he said:<br /></span><a name='Page_127'></a> +<span>"Hail, fairest of all things fashioned! hail, thou desire of eyes!<br /></span> +<span>Hail, chooser of the mightiest, and teacher of the wise!<br /></span> +<span>Hail, wife of my brother Gunnar! in might may thy days endure,<br /></span> +<span>And in peace without a trouble that the world's weal may be sure!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But the song sprang up in the hall, and the eagles cried from above<br /></span> +<span>And forth to the freshness of May went the joyance of the feast:<br /></span> +<span>And Sigurd sat with the Niblungs, and gave ear to most and to least.<br /></span> +<span>And showed no sign to the people of the grief that on him lay;<br /></span> +<span>Nor seemeth he worser to any than he was on the yesterday.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of the Contention betwixt the Queens.</i></p> + +<p>So now must Sigurd and Brynhild abide together in the Burg of the +Niblungs, yet each must bear the burden of sorrow alone. Brynhild held +close converse with Gudrun, and behaved humbly towards her lest strife +should arise between them. But Gudrun, filled with pride that she was +the wife of so great a man as Sigurd, deemed it a little matter that +all others should give her honour, and knowing how Sigurd had ridden +the fire, she cherished great scorn of Gunnar and Brynhild in her +heart, and her pride waxed daily greater.</p> + +<p>Of the heart-wise Hogni men tell how he grew wiser day by day and more +learned in the craft of his mother Grimhild.</p> + +<p>As for Gunnar, he lived with Brynhild in great honour and praise from +all men, but the thought of how Sigurd had ridden the fire in his +semblance lay heavy upon him. He brooded thereon in bitterness and +envy, and the lie shadowed his life-days so that he had but small joy +in his wife.</p> + +<p>And Grimhild, marking his heavy mood, wrought upon him with cunning +words and he gave ear to her. For ever she spake of kings' supplanters +who bear away the praise from their lords after great deeds <a name='Page_128'></a>are done, +and often her talk was of the mighty power that he holdeth who knoweth +the shame of a king. So Gunnar hearkened and ill thoughts grew within +him.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>But fair-faced, calm as a God who hath none to call his foes,<br /></span> +<span>Betwixt the Kings and the people the golden Sigurd goes;<br /></span> +<span>No knowledge of man he lacketh, and the lore he gained of old<br /></span> +<span>From the ancient heart of the Serpent and the Wallower on the Gold<br /></span> +<span>Springs fresh in the soul of Sigurd; the heart of Hogni he sees,<br /></span> +<span>And the heart of his brother Gunnar, and he grieveth sore for these.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>It was most in these latter days that his fame went far abroad,<br /></span> +<span>The helper, the overcomer, the righteous sundering sword;<br /></span> +<span>The loveliest King of the King-folk, the man of sweetest speech,<br /></span> +<span>Whose ear is dull to no man that his helping shall beseech;<br /></span> +<span>The eye-bright seer of all things, that wasteth every wrong,<br /></span> +<span>The straightener of the crooked, the hammer of the strong:<br /></span> +<span>Lo, such was the Son of Sigmund in the days whereof I tell,<br /></span> +<span>The dread of the doom and the battle; and all children loved him well.<br /></span> + +</div></div> + +<p>Now Gudrun's scorn of Brynhild waxed greater as she thought on the +knowledge that she held, and it needed but a little that she should +speak out the whole tale.</p> + +<p>Such was her mind when it befell her to go with Brynhild to bathe in +the Niblung river. There it chanced that they fell to talk of their +husbands, and Gudrun named Sigurd the best of the world. Thereat +Brynhild, stung by her love for Sigurd and the memory of his broken +troth,—for so she deemed it,—cried out, saying: "Thy lord is but +Gunnar's serving man to do his bidding, but my mate is the King of +King-folk, who rode the Wavering Fire and hath dared very death to +win me."</p> + +<p>Then Gudrun held out her hand and a golden gleam shone on her finger, +at the sight whereof Brynhild waxed wan as a dead woman. "<a name='Page_129'></a>Lo," said +Gudrun, "I had Andvari's ring of Sigurd, and indeed thou sayest truly, +that he did Gunnar's bidding, for he took the King's semblance and hid +his own shape in Gunnar's. Thus he wooed the bride for Gunnar and for +Gunnar rode the fire, and now by this token mayest thou know whether +thy husband is truly the best of Kings." And Brynhild spake no word in +answer, but clad herself in haste and fled from the river, and Gudrun +followed her in triumph of heart.</p> + +<p>Yet as the day wore on she repented of her words and feared the deeds +that Brynhild might do, and at even she sought her alone and craved +pardon. Then spake Brynhild the Queen: "I repent me of my bitter words +this day, yet one thing I beseech thee,—do thou say that thou hadst +the ring of Gunnar and not of Sigurd, lest I be shamed before all +men." "What?" said Gudrun; "hast thou heard that the wives of the +Niblungs lie? Nay, Sigurd it was who set this ring on my finger and +therewith he told me the shame of my brother Gunnar,—how his glory +was turned to a scoff."</p> + +<p>And Brynhild seeing that the tale of the deceiving wrought against her +might not be hidden, lifted her voice and cursed the house of the +Niblungs wherein she had suffered such woe. So the queens parted in +great wrath and bitterness.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of the exceeding great grief and mourning of Brynhild.</i></p> + +<p>Now on the morrow it was known that Brynhild was sick, nor would she +reveal the cause to any. Then Gunnar besought her to be comforted and +to show what ailed her, but for a long while he might win no word in +answer. Thereat the evil thoughts that Grimhild had sown in his heart +grew strong, and he cried in bitter anger: "Lo, Brynhild, I deem thou +art sick for love of my foe, the <a name='Page_130'></a>supplanter of Kings, he who hath +shone like a serpent this long while past amidst the honour of our +kin."</p> + +<p>Then at last was Brynhild moved to look on him, and she besought him, +saying: "Swear to me, Gunnar, that I may live, and say that thou +gavest Andvari's ring to Gudrun—thou, and not thy captain of war." +Thereby Gunnar understood that all his falsehood was known to her, so +that never again might they two have any joy together. He had no +answering word, but turned from her and departed, for bitter shame was +come on him and hatred of Sigurd burnt in his soul like fire.</p> + +<p>Then as evening drew on, boding of evil fell on Gudrun, and she +sought her brothers that they might plead with Brynhild to pardon her +and forget her bitter taunts.</p> + +<p>But Gunnar she found seated alone arrayed in his war-gear and on his +knees lay his sword, neither would he hear any word of further +pleading with Brynhild.</p> + +<p>Then sought she Hogni, and behold, he was in the like guise, and sat +as one that waits for a foe. So she sped to Sigurd, but chill fear +fell on her beholding him, for he was dight in the Helm of Aweing and +his golden hauberk, and the Wrath lay on his knees, neither would he +then speak to Brynhild.</p> + +<p>So that heavy night passed away and there was but little sleep in the +abode of the Niblungs. And with the dawn Sigurd arose and sought +Brynhild's chamber where she lay as one dead. Like a pillar of light +he stood in the sunshine and the Wrath rattled by his side. And +Brynhild looked on him and said: "Art thou come to behold me? +Thou—the mightiest and the worst of my betrayers." Then for very +grief the breast of Sigurd heaved so that the rings of his byrny burst +asunder and he cried: "O live, Brynhild beloved! For hereafter shalt +thou know of the snare and the lie that entrapped us and the +measureless grief of my soul." "It is o'erlate," said Brynhild, "<a name='Page_131'></a>for I +may live no longer and the gods have forgotten the earth." And in such +despair must he leave her.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of the slaying of Sigurd the Volsung.</i></p> + +<p>Then at high noon Brynhild sent for Gunnar and sought to whet him to +the slaying of Sigurd, for to such hatred was her love turned.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>"I look upon thee," said Brynhild, "I know thy race and thy name,<br /></span> +<span>Yet meseems the deed thou sparest, to amend thine evil and shame."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Nought, nought," he said, "may amend it, save the hungry eyeless sword,<br /></span> +<span>And the war without hope or honour, and the strife without reward."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Thou hast spoken the word," said Brynhild, "if the word is enough, it is well.<br /></span> +<span>Let us eat and drink and be merry, that all men of our words may tell!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"O all-wise woman," said Gunnar, "what deed lieth under the tongue?<br /></span> +<span>What day for the dearth of the people, when the seed of thy sowing hath sprung?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>She said: "Our garment is Shame, and nought the web shall rend,<br /></span> +<span>Save the day without repentance, and the deed that nought may amend."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Speak, mighty of women," said Gunnar, "and cry out the name and the deed<br /></span> +<span>That the ends of the Earth may hearken, and the Niblungs' grievous Need."<br /></span><a name='Page_132'></a> +<span>"To slay," she said, "is the deed, to slay a King ere the morn,<br /></span> +<span>And the name is Sigurd the Volsung, my love and thy brother sworn."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>She turned and departed from him, and he knew not whither she went;<br /></span> +<span>But he took his sword from the girdle and the peace-strings round it rent,<br /></span> +<span>And into the house he gat him, and the sunlit fair abode,<br /></span> +<span>But his heart in the mid-mirk waded, as through the halls he strode,<br /></span> +<span>Till he came to a chamber apart; and Grimhild his mother was there,<br /></span> +<span>And there was his brother Hogni in the cloudy Niblung gear:<br /></span> +<span>Him-seemed there was silence between them as of them that have spoken, and wait<br /></span> +<span>Till the words of their mouths be accomplished by slow unholpen Fate:<br /></span> +<span>But they turned to the door, and beheld him, and he took his sheathèd sword<br /></span> +<span>And cast it adown betwixt them, and it clashed half bare on the board,<br /></span> +<span>And Grimhild spake as it clattered: "For whom are the peace-strings rent?<br /></span> +<span>For whom is the blood-point whetted and the edge of thine intent?"<br /></span> +<span>He said: "For the heart of Sigurd; and thus all is rent away<br /></span> +<span>Betwixt this word and his slaying, save a little hour of day."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Again spake Grimhild the wise-wife: "Where then is Guttorm the brave?<br /></span> +<span>For he blent not his blood with the Volsung's, nor his oath to Sigurd gave,<br /></span> +<span>Nor called on Earth to witness, nor went beneath the yoke;<br /></span> +<span>And now is he Sigurd's foeman; and who may curse his stroke?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Hogni laughed and answered: "His feet on the threshold stand:<br /></span> +<span>Forged is thy sword, O Mother, and its hilts are come to hand.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Ho, Guttorm, enter, and hearken to the counsel of the wise!"<br /></span><a name='Page_133'></a> +<span>Then in through the door strode Guttorm fair-clad in hunter's guise,<br /></span> +<span>With no steel save his wood-knife girded; but his war-fain eyes stared wild,<br /></span> +<span>As he spake: "What words are ye hiding from the youngest Niblung child?<br /></span> +<span>What work is to win, my brethren, that ye sit in warrior's weed,<br /></span> +<span>And tell me nought of the glory, and cover up the deed?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then uprose Grimhild the wise-wife, and took the cup again;<br /></span> +<span>Night-long had she brewed that witch-drink and laboured not in vain.<br /></span> +<span>For therein was the creeping venom, and hearts of things that prey<br /></span> +<span>On the hidden lives of ocean, and never look on day;<br /></span> +<span>And the heart of the ravening wood-wolf and the hunger-blinded beast<br /></span> +<span>And the spent slaked heart of the wild-fire the guileful cup increased:<br /></span> +<span>But huge words of ancient evil about its rim were scored,<br /></span> +<span>The curse and the eyeless craving of the first that fashioned sword.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So the cup in her hand was gleaming, as she turned unto Guttorm and spake:<br /></span> +<span>"Be merry, King of the War-fain! we hold counsel for thy sake:<br /></span> +<span>The work is a God's son's slaying, and thine is the hand that shall smite,<br /></span> +<span>That thy name may be set in, glory and thy deeds live on in light."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Forth flashed the flame from his eyen, and he cried: "Where then is the foe,<br /></span> +<span>This dread of mine house and my brethren, that my hand may lay him alow?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Drink, son," she said, "and be merry! and I shall tell his name,<br /></span> +<span>Whose death shall crown thy life-days, and increase thy fame with his fame."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>He drinketh and craveth for battle, and his hand for a sword doth seek,<br /></span> +<span>And he looketh about on his brethren, but his lips no word may speak;<br /></span> +<span>They speak the name, and he hears not, and again he drinks of the cup<br /></span><a name='Page_134'></a> +<span>And knows not friend nor kindred, and the wrath in his heart wells up,<br /></span> +<span>That no God may bear unmingled, and he cries a wordless cry,<br /></span> +<span>As the last of the day is departing and the dusk time drawing anigh.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then Grimhild goes from the chamber, and bringeth his harness of war,<br /></span> +<span>And therewith they array his body, and he drinketh the cup once more,<br /></span> +<span>And his heart is set on the murder, and now may he understand<br /></span> +<span>What soul is dight for the slaying, and what quarry is for his hand.<br /></span> +<span>For again they tell him of Sigurd, and the man he remembereth,<br /></span> +<span>And praiseth his mighty name and his deeds that laughed on death.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now dusk and dark draw over, and through the glimmering house<br /></span> +<span>They go to the place of the Niblungs, the high hall and glorious;<br /></span> +<span>For hard by is the chamber of Sigurd: there dight in their harness of war<br /></span> +<span>In their thrones sit Gunnar and Hogni, but Guttorm stands on the floor<br /></span> +<span>With his blue blade naked before them: the torches flare from the wall<br /></span> +<span>And the woven God-folk waver, but the hush is deep in the hall,<br /></span> +<span>And those Niblung faces change not, though the slow moon slips from her height<br /></span> +<span>And earth is acold ere dawning, and new winds shake the night.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now it was in the earliest dawn-dusk that Guttorm stirred in his place,<br /></span> +<span>And the mail-rings tinkled upon him, as he turned his helm-hid face,<br /></span> +<span>And went forth from the hall and the high-seat; but the Kings sat still in their pride<br /></span> +<span>And hearkened the clash of his going and heeded how it died.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Slow, all alone goeth Guttorm to Sigurd's chamber door,<br /></span> +<span>And all is open before him, and the white moon lies on the floor<br /></span> +<span>And the bed where Sigurd lieth with Gudrun on his breast,<br /></span><a name='Page_135'></a> +<span>And light comes her breath from her bosom in the joy of infinite rest.<br /></span> +<span>Then Guttorm stands on the threshold, and his heart of the murder is fain,<br /></span> +<span>And he thinks of the deeds of Sigurd, and praiseth his greatness and gain;<br /></span> +<span>Bright blue is his blade in the moonlight—but lo, how Sigurd lies,<br /></span> +<span>As the carven dead that die not, with fair wide-open eyes;<br /></span> +<span>And their glory gleameth on Guttorm, and the hate in his heart is chilled,<br /></span> +<span>And he shrinketh aback from the threshold and knoweth not what he willed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Thereon he turned him again to the hall, and the Kings beheld his +unstained sword in the torch-light, but they cast him never a word. +Then shame and wrath urged him and he wended the second time to +Sigurd's chamber, but yet again the dread eyes of the Volsung were +open and he fled from their light to his biding brethren.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>Now dieth moon and candle, and though the day be nigh<br /></span> +<span>The roof of the hall fair-builded seems far aloof as the sky,<br /></span> +<span>But a glimmer grows on the pavement and the ernes on the roof-ridge stir:<br /></span> +<span>Then the brethren hist and hearken, for a sound of feet they hear,<br /></span> +<span>And into the hall of the Niblungs a white thing cometh apace:<br /></span> +<span>But the sword of Guttorm upriseth, and he wendeth from his place,<br /></span> +<span>And the clash of steel goes with him; yet loud as it may sound<br /></span> +<span>Still more they hear those footsteps light-falling on the ground,<br /></span> +<span>And the hearts of the Niblungs waver, and their pride is smitten acold,<br /></span> +<span>For they look on that latest comer, and Brynhild they behold:<br /></span> +<span>But she sits by their side in silence, and heeds them nothing more<br /></span> +<span>Than the grey soft-footed morning heeds yester-even's war.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But Guttorm clashed in the cloisters and through the silence strode<br /></span> +<span>And scarce on the threshold of Sigurd a little while abode;<br /></span><a name='Page_136'></a> +<span>There the moon from the floor hath departed and heaven without is grey,<br /></span> +<span>And afar in the eastern quarter faint glimmer streaks of day.<br /></span> +<span>Close over the head of Sigurd the Wrath gleams wan and bare,<br /></span> +<span>And the Niblung woman stirreth, and her brow is knit with fear;<br /></span> +<span>But the King's closed eyes are hidden, loose lie his empty hands,<br /></span> +<span>There is nought 'twixt the sword of the slayer and the Wonder of all Lands.<br /></span> +<span>Then Guttorm laughed in his war-rage, and his sword leapt up on high,<br /></span> +<span>As he sprang to the bed from the threshold and cried a wordless cry,<br /></span> +<span>And with all the might of the Niblungs through Sigurd's body thrust,<br /></span> +<span>And turned and fled from the chamber, and fell amid the dust,<br /></span> +<span>Within the door and without it, the slayer slain by the slain;<br /></span> +<span>For the cast of the sword of Sigurd had smitten his body atwain<br /></span> +<span>While yet his cry of onset through the echoing chambers went.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Woe's me! how the house of the Niblungs by another cry was rent,<br /></span> +<span>The wakening wail of Gudrun, as she shrank in the river of blood<br /></span> +<span>From the breast of the mighty Sigurd: he heard it and understood,<br /></span> +<span>And rose up on the sword of Guttorm, and turned from the country of death,<br /></span> +<span>And spake words of loving-kindness as he strove for life and breath:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Wail not, O child of the Niblungs! I am smitten, but thou shall live,<br /></span> +<span>In remembrance of our glory, mid the gifts the Gods shall give!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>She stayed her cry to hearken, and her heart well nigh stood still:<br /></span> +<span>But he spake: "Mourn not, O Gudrun, this stroke is the last of ill;<br /></span> +<span>Fear leaveth the House of the Niblungs on this breaking of the morn;<br /></span> +<span>Mayst thou live, O woman belovèd, unforsaken, unforlorn!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then he sank aback on the sword, and down to his lips she bent<br /></span> +<span>If some sound therefrom she might hearken; for his breath was well-nigh spent:<br /></span><a name='Page_137'></a> +<span>"It is Brynhild's deed," he murmured, "and the woman that loves me well;<br /></span> +<span>Nought now is left to repent of, and the tale abides to tell.<br /></span> +<span>I have done many deeds in my life-days, and all these, and my love, they lie<br /></span> +<span>In the hollow hand of Odin till the day of the world go by.<br /></span> +<span>I have done and I may not undo, I have given and I take not again:<br /></span> +<span>Art thou other than I, Allfather, wilt thou gather my glory in vain?"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>There was silence then in the chamber, as the dawn spread wide and grey,<br /></span> +<span>And hushed was the hall of the Niblungs at the entering-in of day.<br /></span> +<span>Long Gudrun hung o'er the Volsung and waited the coming word;<br /></span> +<span>Then she stretched out her hand to Sigurd and touched her love and her lord,<br /></span> +<span>And the broad day fell on his visage, and she knew she was there alone,<br /></span> +<span>And her heart was wrung with anguish and she uttered a weary moan:<br /></span> +<span>Then Brynhild laughed in the hall, and the first of men's voices was that<br /></span> +<span>Since when on yester-even the kings in the high-seat had sat.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>In the house rose rumour and stir, and men stood up in the morn,<br /></span> +<span>And their hearts with doubt were shaken, as if with the Uttermost Horn:<br /></span> +<span>The cry and the calling spread, and shields clashed down from the wall,<br /></span> +<span>And swords in the chamber glittered, and men ran apace to the hall.<br /></span> +<span>Nor knew what man to question, nor who had tidings to give,<br /></span> +<span>Nor what were the days thenceforward wherein the folk should live.<br /></span> +<span>But ever the word is amongst them that Sigurd the Volsung is slain,<br /></span> +<span>And the spears in the hall were tossing as the rye in the windy plain.<br /></span> +<span>But they look aloft to the high-seat and they see the gleam of the gold:<br /></span> +<span>And Gunnar the King of battle, and Hogni wise and cold,<br /></span> +<span>And Brynhild the wonder of women; and her face is deadly pale,<br /></span><a name='Page_138'></a> +<span>And the Kings are clad in their war-gear, and bared are the edges of bale.<br /></span> +<span>Then cold fear falleth upon them, but the noise and the clamour abate,<br /></span> +<span>And they look on the war-wise Gunnar and awhile for his word they wait;<br /></span> +<span>But e'en as he riseth above them, doth a shriek through the tumult ring;<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Awake, O House of the Niblungs, for slain is Sigurd the King!"<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then nothing faltered Gunnar, but he stood o'er the Niblung folk,<br /></span> +<span>And over the hall woe-stricken the words of pride he spoke:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Mourn now, O Niblung people, for gone is Sigurd our guest,<br /></span> +<span>And Guttorm the King is departed, and this is our day of unrest;<br /></span> +<span>But all this of the Norns was fore-ordered, and herein is Odin's hand;<br /></span> +<span>Cast down are the mighty of men-folk, but the Niblung house shall stand:<br /></span> +<span>Mourn then today and tomorrow, but the third day waken and live,<br /></span> +<span>For the Gods died not this morning, and great gifts they have to give."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>He spake and awhile was silence, and then did the cry outbreak,<br /></span> +<span>And many there were of the Earl-folk that wept for Sigurd's sake;<br /></span> +<span>And they wept for their little children, and they wept for those unborn,<br /></span> +<span>Who should know the earth without him and the world of his worth forlorn.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>So rent is the joy of the Niblungs; and their simple days and fain<br /></span> +<span>From that ancient house are departed, and who shall buy them again?<br /></span> +<span>For he, the redeemer, the helper, the crown of all their worth,<br /></span> +<span>They looked upon him and wondered, they loved, and they thrust him forth.<br /></span> +</div></div><a name='Page_139'></a> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of the mighty Grief of Gudrun over Sigurd dead.</i></p> + +<p>But as for the grief of Gudrun over Sigurd no man may tell it. Long +she lay on his body and spent herself in weeping, but at last she +arose and cursed Brynhild and Gunnar and all the Niblung house, +saying:</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>"O hearken, hearken Gunnar! May the dear Gold drag thee adown,<br /></span> +<span>And Greyfell's ruddy Burden, and the Treasure of renown,<br /></span> +<span>And the rings that ye swore the oath on! yea, if all avengers die,<br /></span> +<span>May Earth, that ye bade remember, on the blood of Sigurd cry!<br /></span> +<span>Be this land as waste as the troth-plight that the lips of fools have sworn!<br /></span> +<span>May it rain through this broken hall-roof, and snow on the hearth forlorn!<br /></span> +<span>And may no man draw anigh it to tell of the ruin and the wrack!<br /></span> +<span>Yea, may I be a mock for the idle if my feet come ever aback,<br /></span> +<span>If my heart think kind of the chambers, if mine eyes shall yearn to behold<br /></span> +<span>The fair-built house of my fathers, the house beloved of old!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And therewith Gudrun fled forever from the Burg of the Niblungs, and +none dared hinder or follow her, and none knew whither she turned for +refuge.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Of the passing away of Brynhild.</i></p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>Once more on the morrow-morning fair shineth the glorious sun,<br /></span> +<span>And the Niblung children labour on a deed that shall be done.<br /></span> +<span>For out in the people's meadows they raise a bale on high,<br /></span> +<span>The oak and the ash together, and thereon shall the Mighty lie;<br /></span> +<span>Nor gold nor steel shall be lacking, nor savour of sweet spice,<br /></span> +<span>Nor cloths in the Southlands woven, nor webs of untold price;<br /></span><a name='Page_140'></a> +<span>The work grows, toil is as nothing; long blasts of the mighty horn<br /></span> +<span>From the topmost tower out-wailing o'er the woeful world are borne.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>But Brynhild cried to her maidens: "Now open ark and chest,<br /></span> +<span>And draw forth queenly raiment of the loveliest and the best,<br /></span> +<span>Red rings that the Dwarf-lords fashioned, fair cloths that queens have sewed,<br /></span> +<span>To array the bride for the mighty, and the traveller for the road."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>They wept as they wrought her bidding and did on her goodliest gear;<br /></span> +<span>But she laughed mid the dainty linen, and the gold-rings fashioned fair:<br /></span> +<span>She arose from the bed of the Niblungs, and her face no more was wan;<br /></span> +<span>As a star in the dawn-tide heavens, mid the dusky house she shone:<br /></span> +<span>And they that stood about her, their hearts were raised aloft<br /></span> +<span>Amid their fear and wonder: then she spake them kind and soft:<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Now give me the sword, O maidens, wherewith I sheared the wind<br /></span> +<span>When the Kings of Earth were gathered to know the Chooser's mind."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>All sheathed the maidens brought it, and feared the hidden blade,<br /></span> +<span>But the naked blue-white edges across her knees she laid,<br /></span> +<span>And spake: "The heaped-up riches, the gear my fathers left,<br /></span> +<span>All dear-bought woven wonders, all rings from battle reft,<br /></span> +<span>All goods of men desired, now strew them on the floor,<br /></span> +<span>And so share among you, maidens, the gifts of Brynhild's store."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then upright by the bed of the Niblungs for a moment doth she stand,<br /></span> +<span>And the blade flasheth bright in the chamber, but no more they hinder her hand<br /></span> +<span>Than if a God were smiting to rend the world in two:<br /></span> +<span>Then dulled are the glittering edges, and the bitter point cleaves through<br /></span> +<span>The breast of the all-wise Brynhild, and her feet from the pavement fail,<br /></span> +<span>And the sigh of her heart is hearkened mid the hush of the maidens' wail.<br /></span><a name='Page_141'></a> +<span>Chill, deep is the fear upon them, but they bring her aback to the bed,<br /></span> +<span>And her hand is yet on the hilts, and sidelong droopeth her head.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then there cometh a cry from withoutward, and Gunnar's hurrying feet<br /></span> +<span>Are swift on the kingly threshold, and Brynhild's blood they meet.<br /></span> +<span>Low down o'er the bed he hangeth and hearkeneth for her word,<br /></span> +<span>And her heavy lids are opened to look on the Niblung lord,<br /></span> +<span>And she saith:<br /></span> +<span class='i4'>"I pray thee a prayer, the last word in the world I speak,<br /></span> +<span>That ye bear me forth to Sigurd, and the hand my hand would seek;<br /></span> +<span>The bale for the dead is builded, it is wrought full wide on the plain,<br /></span> +<span>It is raised for Earth's best Helper, and thereon is room for twain:<br /></span> +<span>Ye have hung the shields about it, and the Southland hangings spread,<br /></span> +<span>There lay me adown by Sigurd and my head beside his head."<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then they took the body of Brynhild in the raiment that she wore,<br /></span> +<span>And out through the gate of the Niblungs the holy corpse they bore,<br /></span> +<span>And thence forth to the mead of the people, and the high-built shielded bale;<br /></span> +<span>Then afresh in the open meadows breaks forth the women's wail<br /></span> +<span>When they see the bed of Sigurd and the glittering of his gear;<br /></span> +<span>And fresh is the wail of the people as Brynhild draweth anear,<br /></span> +<span>And the tidings go before her that for twain the bale is built,<br /></span> +<span>That for twain is the oak-wood shielded and the pleasant odours spilt.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>There is peace on the bale of Sigurd, and the Gods look down from on high,<br /></span> +<span>And they see the lids of the Volsung close shut against the sky,<br /></span> +<span>As he lies with his shield beside him in the Hauberk all of gold,<br /></span> +<span>That has not its like in the heavens, nor has earth of its fellow told;<br /></span> +<span>And forth from the Helm of Aweing are the sunbeams flashing wide,<br /></span> +<span>And the sheathed Wrath of Sigurd lies still by his mighty side.<br /></span> +<span>Then cometh an elder of days, a man of the ancient times,<br /></span> +<span>Who is long past sorrow and joy, and the steep of the bale he climbs;<br /></span><a name='Page_142'></a> +<span>And he kneeleth down by Sigurd, and bareth the Wrath to the sun<br /></span> +<span>That the beams are gathered about it, and from hilt to blood-point run,<br /></span> +<span>And wide o'er the plain of the Niblungs doth the Light of the Branstock glare,<br /></span> +<span>Till the wondering mountain-shepherds on that star of noontide stare,<br /></span> +<span>And fear for many an evil; but the ancient man stands still<br /></span> +<span>With the war-flame on his shoulder, nor thinks of good or of ill,<br /></span> +<span>Till the feet of Brynhild's bearers on the topmost bale are laid,<br /></span> +<span>And her bed is dight by Sigurd's; then he sinks the pale white blade<br /></span> +<span>And lays it 'twixt the sleepers, and leaves them there alone—<br /></span> +<span>He, the last that shall ever behold them,—and his days are well nigh done.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Then is silence over the plain; in the noon shine the torches pale<br /></span> +<span>As the best of the Niblung Earl-folk bear fire to the builded bale:<br /></span> +<span>Then a wind in the west ariseth, and the white flames leap on high,<br /></span> +<span>And with one voice crieth the people a great and mighty cry,<br /></span> +<span>And men cast up hands to the Heavens, and pray without a word,<br /></span> +<span>As they that have seen God's visage, and the voice of the Father have heard.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>They are gone—the lovely, the mighty, the hope of the ancient Earth:<br /></span> +<span>It shall labour and bear the burden as before that day of their birth.<br /></span> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<hr class='tb' style='width: 20%;' /><br /> +</div><div class='stanza'> +<span>Ye have heard of Sigurd aforetime, how the foes of God he slew;<br /></span> +<span>How forth from the darksome desert the Gold of the Waters he drew;<br /></span> +<span>How he wakened Love on the Mountain, and wakened Brynhild the Bright,<br /></span> +<span>And dwelt upon Earth for a season and shone in all men's sight.<br /></span> +<span>Ye have heard of the Cloudy People, and the dimming of the day,<br /></span> +<span>And the latter world's confusion, and Sigurd gone away.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p>THE END</p><a name='Page_143'></a> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='GLOSSARY'></a><h2><a name='Page_148'></a><a name='Page_150'></a><a name='Page_147'></a><a name='Page_152'></a><a name='Page_144'></a><a name='Page_151'></a><a name='Page_146'></a><a name='Page_145'></a><a name='Page_149'></a>GLOSSARY</h2> + +<p>ABBREVIATIONS:—<i>n.</i>, noun; <i>v.</i>, verb; <i>cf.</i>, compare; <i>e.g.</i>, for +example; <i>p.t.</i>, past tense; <i>p.p.</i> past participle.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Abasement</i>, casting down, defeat.</p> + +<p><i>Acre-biders</i>, peaceful workers in the fields as distinguished from +warriors who left their homes to go to war.</p> + +<p><i>Amber</i>, a yellow substance found on the shores of the Baltic Sea and +used from very early days as an ornament. The "southern men," or +traders from the shores of the Mediterranean, came north to buy it.</p> + +<p><i>Ark</i>, a box for treasures.</p> + +<p><i>Atwain</i>, in two pieces, <i>e.g.</i> "The sword ... had smitten his body +atwain."</p> + +<p><i>Avail</i>, <i>n.</i> power; <i>v.</i> to have power, to succeed.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Bale</i>, disaster, destruction, death; a great pile of wood for +burning.</p> + +<p><i>Balks</i>, pieces of timber used to make a bridge.</p> + +<p><i>Bane</i>, destruction or a cause of destruction; often used to mean an +enemy or slayer, <i>e.g.</i> Sigurd's sword is called "Fafnir's bane," and +in the old saga Sigurd himself had the title Fafnir's-Bane.</p> + +<p><i>Barter</i>, to give in exchange for something else.</p> + +<p><i>Bast</i>, wrappings made of the soft inner bark of trees.</p> + +<p><i>Bath of the swan</i>, the sea.</p> + +<p><i>Battle-acre</i>, field of battle.</p> + +<p><i>Beaker</i>, a drinking cup.</p> + +<p><i>Befall</i>, happen.</p> + +<p><i>Begrudge</i>, to feel unwillingness in giving, to be displeased at +another's success. Loki is called the World's Begrudger, because he +liked to cause failure and unhappiness, and hated success in others.</p> + +<p><i>Bench-cloths</i>, coverings for seats.</p> + +<p><i>Bent</i>, a piece of high ground.</p> + +<p><i>Betide</i>, <i>p.t.</i> betided; <i>p.p.</i> betid; to happen, come to pass, +<i>e.g.</i> "What hath betid?"</p> + +<p><i>Bickering</i>, stormy, struggling.</p> + +<p><i>Bide</i> or <i>abide</i>, <i>p.t.</i> abode; <i>p.p.</i> abode; to remain, dwell</p> + +<p><i>Bight</i>, a bend or curve in a coast or river bank.</p> + +<p><i>Bill</i>, an axe with a long handle.</p> + +<p><i>Blazoning</i>, painting, especially the painting of coats of arms or of +records of valiant deeds.</p> + +<p><i>Boar of Sôn</i>. It was customary when making any solemn vows to lay the +hand or sword on a sacred boar called the Boar of Sôn or the Boar of +Atonement. The ceremony seems to have been also accompanied by +drinking a draught, called in this poem the Cup of Daring Promise, in +honour of one of the gods.</p> + +<p><i>Boding</i>, a misgiving, a feeling that evil is to come.</p> + +<p><i>Bole</i>, a tree-trunk.</p> + +<p><i>Bows the acre's face</i>, bends the growing grain in a harvest-field.</p> + +<p><i>Brand</i>, a sword.</p> + +<p><i>Bucklers</i>, shields.</p> + +<p><i>Burg</i>, a town, a fortress.</p> + +<p><i>Byrny</i>, a coat of armour for back and breast, made of linked iron +rings.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Carles</i>, peasants; a contemptuous word used for a man who is not a +warrior.</p> + +<p><i>Change his life</i>, die and pass from the life on earth to that in +Valhalla or Niflheim.</p> + +<p><i>Chooser</i>. One of the titles of Brynhild, as she was one of the +Valkyries or maidens whom Odin sent into battles to single out for +death the men he had chosen to be slain. Victory-Wafter is another +title of Brynhild, since she brought victory to those for whom it was +appointed and death to others.</p> + +<p><i>Churl</i>, a grudging, ungracious man.</p> + +<p><i>Clave</i>, <i>p.p.</i> of cleave, to pierce, hew, cut through.</p> + +<p><i>Cloisters</i>, a roofed passage running round a court-yard and open on +the side towards the court-yard.</p> + +<p><i>Close</i>, a field.</p> + +<p><i>Cloud-wreath</i>, the cloud that often gathers about the top of a high +mountain.</p> + +<p><i>Compass</i>, to contrive, accomplish.</p> + +<p><i>Constrain</i>, to force, to control and guide.</p> + +<p><i>Coping</i>, the topmost row of bricks in a wall, the top of a wall.</p> + +<p><i>Craft</i>, skill, knowledge of some particular art, a trade or +occupation, <i>e.g.</i> song-craft.</p> + +<p><i>Cull</i>, to choose, pick out.</p> + +<p><i>Cup of Daring Promise</i>, see <i>Boar of Sôn</i>.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Daïs</i>, a raised part of the floor at one end of a banquet hall, where +the principal persons sat.</p> + +<p><i>Dastard</i>, a coward.</p> + +<p><i>Dawn-dusk</i>, the twilight at dawn before the sun is fully risen.</p> + +<p><i>Day of the Battle</i>, Ragnarok, when the spirits of dead warriors +should join in the battle of the gods. "<i>Day of Doom</i>" has the same +meaning.</p> + +<p><i>Dearth</i>, want, famine, scarcity.</p> + +<p><i>Deft</i>, skilful, <i>e.g.</i> deft in every cunning.</p> + +<p><i>Dight</i>, made ready, prepared, <i>e.g.</i> war-dight, prepared for war.</p> + +<p><i>Dole</i>, <i>n.</i> a gift dealt out as charity; <i>v.</i> to measure out in small +portions, <i>e.g.</i> I doled out wisdom to thee.</p> + +<p><i>Doom</i>, <i>n.</i> a sentence, verdict, <i>e.g.</i> give righteous doom; <i>v.</i> to +condemn, to sentence. <i>Doom-ring</i>, a circle of stones or hazel poles +where kings heard complaints from their people and gave judgment.</p> + +<p><i>Do on</i>, put on; often shortened into "don"; <i>cf.</i> doff, which is +shortened from do off.</p> + +<p><i>Door-wards</i>, porters, door-keepers.</p> + +<p><i>Dragons</i>, the war-ships of the northern nations, which often had +their prows carved into a dragon's head.</p> + +<p><i>Dwindle</i>, to grow less.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Edges of bale</i>, the sword edges, which bring bale or destruction.</p> + +<p><i>Egg</i>, to urge on, to persuade to some deed, <i>e.g.</i> "Too much thou +eggest me."</p> + +<p><i>Eld</i>, old age.</p> + +<p><i>Endlong</i>, length-ways, along. <i>Endlong</i> and <i>athwart</i>, along and +across.</p> + +<p><i>Erewhile</i>, some time ago, formerly.</p> + +<p><i>Erne</i>, an eagle.</p> + +<p><i>Eyen</i>, eyes; old plural of eye.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Fain</i>, glad, willing, full of desire. Sometimes used as an adverb +meaning "willingly," <i>e.g.</i> "They fain would go aland."</p> + +<p><i>Fair-speech-masters</i>, men skilled in poetry. There were professional +singers and poets called skalds among the northern people, and the +power to make verses and to sing was cultivated among the mass of the +people and was fairly common.</p> + +<p><i>Fallow</i>, lying quiet, inactive, not bearing crops. The expression, +"fallow bondage," means a bondage of sleep and idleness.</p> + +<p><i>Fare</i>, to travel. Sometimes when joined to adverbs it means to +prosper, <i>e.g.</i> to fare ill, to fare well, how does he fare?</p> + +<p><i>Fashion</i>, to make, to arrange. Regin hoped to be the world's +"fashioning lord," that is, the supreme king and orderer of all +things.</p> + +<p><i>Fell-abiding folk</i>, men who worked at home instead of going out to +battle.</p> + +<p><i>Flame-blink</i>, the flash of light from the fire round Brynhild's home.</p> + +<p><i>Flaw</i>, defect, fault, <i>e.g.</i> "the hauberk ... clean wrought without a +flaw;" "the ring ... that hath ... no flaw for God to mend." If used +of rain, it means a slight shower, <i>e.g.</i> "a flaw of summer rain,"</p> + +<p><i>Fleck</i>, spot, mark.</p> + +<p><i>Foam-bow</i>, the small rainbow seen in the spray from a waterfall.</p> + +<p><i>Foil</i>, <i>n.</i> defeat, failure; <i>v.</i> to defeat, to baffle.</p> + +<p><i>Fold</i>, a place for shutting up sheep. It is often used meaning any +dwelling-place, <i>e.g.</i> Fafnir's abode is called "the lone destroyer's +fold."</p> + +<p><i>Folk</i>, people. It is often joined with other words, <i>e.g.</i> man-folk, +Goth-folk. <i>Folk of the-war-wands forgers</i>, are the race of dwarfs who +had great skill in the making of weapons.</p> + +<p><i>Fond</i>, used in Old English to mean "foolish," or sometimes only to +give emphasis, as in the expression "thy fondest need," meaning "thy +greatest need."</p> + +<p><i>Foot-hills</i>, the lower hills round the base of a very high mountain.</p> + +<p><i>Fore-ordained</i>, settled by the will of the gods in early times.</p> + +<p><i>Foster</i>, to rear, to bring up a child, to care for, to shelter, +<i>e.g.</i> "Now would I foster Sigurd;" "the house that fostered me."</p> + +<p><i>Franklin</i>, a well-to-do farmer, one who is not merely a hired +servant.</p> + +<p><i>Freyia</i>, the wife of Odin and chief of the goddesses.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Gainsay</i>, to resist, to refuse a request.</p> + +<p><i>Gaping Gap</i>, a name given to the state of things that existed before +the world was made. There was supposed to have been an empty space +till Odin created the world of gods and men.</p> + +<p><i>Garner</i>, to gather up, to store up; sometimes, to reap.</p> + +<p><i>Garth</i>, an enclosure, a place from which things may be garnered, +<i>e.g.</i> "within the garth that it (the wall) girdeth."</p> + +<p><i>Gear</i>, a word used with many meanings, as, dress, arms, possessions, +anything that a person has or uses, <i>e.g.</i> war-gear, all a man's +armour and weapons; mail-gear, a man's armour.</p> + +<p><i>Gird</i>, to tie round, to be all round, <i>e.g.</i> "The Wrath to his side +is girded;" "a wall doth he behold ... but within the garth that it +girdeth no work of man is set."</p> + +<p><i>Glaive</i>, a sword.</p> + +<p><i>God-home</i>, Asgard.</p> + +<p><i>Gold-bestrider</i>, the name given to Sigurd by Giuki because he rode +with the treasure of gold upon his saddle. To bestride is to stand +over anything with one foot on each side.</p> + +<p><i>Good-heart</i>, kindly strength.</p> + +<p><i>Goodlihead</i>, a word of praise which is generally used to mean bodily +beauty, but sometimes to mean beauty of character.</p> + +<p><i>Grovel</i>, to crouch low on the ground.</p> + +<p><i>Guest-fain</i>, hospitable, ready to welcome guests.</p> + +<p><i>Guile</i>, cunning, cleverness used for an evil purpose.</p> + +<p><i>Guise</i>, appearance, kind, dress, <i>e.g.</i> "such was the guise of his +raiment;" "fair-clad in hunter's guise."</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Halers of the hawsers</i>, pullers of the ropes, <i>i.e.</i> seamen.</p> + +<p><i>Hallow</i>, to set apart for a solemn purpose, to make holy, <i>e.g.</i> I +hallow me to Odin for a leader of his host.</p> + +<p><i>Hangings</i>, tapestry, woven stuff on which pictures or figures of gods +and heroes were embroidered, used to decorate the walls of houses, +<i>e.g.</i> "The walls were strange and wondrous with noble stories told;" +"the gods on the hangings stirred."</p> + +<p><i>Harness</i>, armour.</p> + +<p><i>Hauberk</i>, a breast-plate.</p> + +<p><i>Heave</i>, to rise and fall, sometimes merely to rise, <i>e.g.</i> "The doom +... heaves up dim through the gloom."</p> + +<p><i>High-seat</i>, the daïs or chief seat where the master of a house and +his principal guests sat.</p> + +<p><i>High-tide</i>, time of festival.</p> + +<p><i>Hindfell</i>, the word means "deer-mountain," since "fell" means any +hill, and "hind" is the word we still use for a deer.</p> + +<p><i>Hireling</i>, a servant.</p> + +<p><i>Hist</i>, to give attention, to listen.</p> + +<p><i>Hithermost</i>, nearest.</p> + +<p><i>Hoard</i>, a store. Generally used of a treasure which the owner keeps +selfishly, <i>e.g.</i> Fafnir's wisdom is called "grudged and hoarded +wisdom," and his gold the "heavy hoard."</p> + +<p><i>Hœnir</i>, one of Odin's sons; a wise and blameless god who, the others +believed, would return to reign over a new heaven and a new earth when +Ragnarok was past.</p> + +<p><i>Holt</i>, a woodland.</p> + +<p><i>Hoppled</i>, fettered.</p> + +<p><i>Horse-fed</i>, cropped by horses.</p> + +<p><i>Horse-herd</i>, keeper of horses. "Herd" means any keeper of animals, +and is generally joined with other words, <i>e.g.</i> shepherd, swine-herd.</p> + +<p><i>Huddled</i>, twisted together in a small space.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Intent</i>, intention, purpose. In the passage, "For whom is the +blood-point whetted and the edge of thine intent?" the meaning is, +"Against whom is thy sword sharpened, and against whom is thy purpose +so keen?"</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Kin</i>, family, relations. <i>Kin of the Wolf</i>, Loki and his children, +one of whom was a monstrous wolf which was to fight against the gods +at Ragnarok.</p> + +<p><i>Kine</i>, cattle.</p> + +<p><i>Kirtle</i>, a long cloak.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Lack</i>, loss, <i>e.g.</i> "He knew there was ruin and lack." "The lack that +made him loth" is used to describe the ring of Andvari which he was +unwilling to give up with the rest of his treasure to Loki. <i>v.</i> "To +be without," or, "to be found wanting."</p> + +<p><i>Lay</i>, a song.</p> + +<p><i>Lea</i>, a meadow.</p> + +<p><i>Leeches</i>, doctors.</p> + +<p><i>Lief</i>, willing.</p> + +<p><i>Lift</i>, the arch of the sky overhead, the highest part of the sky.</p> + +<p><i>Linden</i>, the lime-tree.</p> + +<p><i>Linked mail</i>, armour made of rings linked together.</p> + +<p><i>Lintel</i>, the top of a doorway.</p> + +<p><i>List</i>, to wish, to choose.</p> + +<p><i>Litten</i>, lighted up; <i>cf.</i> red-litten, torch-litten.</p> + +<p><i>Long-ships</i>, ships of war.</p> + +<p><i>Lore</i>, learning, knowledge.</p> + +<p><i>Loth</i>, unwilling, grieved.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Mar</i>, to spoil, disfigure.</p> + +<p><i>Mark</i>, boundary, borderland.</p> + +<p><i>Masters of God-home</i>, the gods of Asgard against whom the giants and +all foul monsters were constantly at war.</p> + +<p><i>Mattock</i>, a pick-axe.</p> + +<p><i>Mead</i>, a meadow.</p> + +<p><i>Mew</i>, a sea-gull.</p> + +<p><i>Mid-mirk</i>, thick darkness. <i>Mirk</i>, darkness.</p> + +<p><i>Midward</i>, prime, best days.</p> + +<p><i>Midworld</i>, the earth; the home of men as distinguished from Asgard, +the home of the gods, and Niflheim, the home of the dead.</p> + +<p><i>Minish</i>, to grow less.</p> + +<p><i>Moon-wake</i>, the long straight path of light made by the moon on +water.</p> + +<p><i>Murder-churls,</i> fierce and suspicious men ready to slay a guest.</p> + +<p><i>Mute</i>, dumb, silent.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Nether</i>, lower.</p> + +<p><i>Niggard</i>, grudging, miserly, unproductive, <i>e.g.</i> the Glittering +Heath is called "niggard ground."</p> + +<p><i>Norns</i>, the three maidens who decided the fates of gods and men. +Their names were Urd, Verdandi and Skuld, or Past, Present, and +Future, and they were more powerful than the gods themselves, <i>e.g.</i> +"Gone, forth is the will of the Norns, that abideth ever the same."</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Odin's door</i>, a warrior's shield.</p> + +<p><i>Odin's Hall</i>, Valhalla, to which went the souls of warriors slain in +battle.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Pall</i>, a cloak of state; most commonly used in the expression "purple +and pall."</p> + +<p><i>Passing</i>, very; used to give emphasis, <i>e.g.</i> "He loveth her passing +sore," where both words are simply emphatic.</p> + +<p><i>Peace-strings</i>, the strings which tied a sword into its sheath when +it was not in use.</p> + +<p><i>Peers</i>, equals in age and rank.</p> + +<p><i>People's Praise</i>. Odin, chief of the gods. "The death of the People's +Praise" is Ragnarok, the time when Odin and all his fellow gods were +to be destroyed.</p> + +<p><i>Purblind</i>, dim-sighted. The syllable "pur" is a form of the word +pure, and gives emphasis to blind.</p> + +<p><i>Purple</i>, cloth dyed with a purple dye made from the murex, a +shell-fish found in the Mediterranean. The secret of making it was +known only to the "southern men" or Phoenician traders of Tyre and +Sidon.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Quarry</i>, game, prey, the animal chased by a hunter.</p> + +<p><i>Quell</i>, to stop, make to cease.</p> + +<p><i>Quicken</i>, to rouse, bring to life.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Ravening</i>, devouring, eager for prey; often used of wild animals.</p> + +<p><i>Reck</i>, to notice, care about.</p> + +<p><i>Reek</i>, smoke rising from a fire, or spray and mist from a waterfall, +<i>e.g.</i> "the reek of the falling flood;" "the heart of Fafnir ... sang +among the reek."</p> + +<p><i>Renown</i>, fame, honour.</p> + +<p><i>Rock-wall</i>, mountain cliff.</p> + +<p><i>Roof-tree</i>, the topmost beam which forms the ridge of a roof.</p> + +<p><i>Rue</i>, to regret, to find a cause of woe.</p> + +<p><i>Rumour</i>, report, gossiping tale.</p> + +<p><i>Rune</i>, letter. The letters used in old Icelandic and similar +languages are called runic characters. When written letters were first +known in the north of Europe they were supposed to have magic powers, +and gradually the word "rune" came to mean any spell, or even any +wisdom which was beyond the ordinary knowledge of men.</p> + +<p><i>Ruth</i>, pity, regret, <i>e.g.</i> "Ruth arose in his heart;" "I have +hearkened not nor heeded the words of thy fear and thy ruth."</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Salutation</i>, greeting.</p> + +<p><i>Sate</i>, satisfy to the full.</p> + +<p><i>Scalds</i>, the poets who recited poems or stories at feasts.</p> + +<p><i>Scoff</i>, an object of mockery.</p> + +<p><i>Scored</i>, carved, marked by lines cut deeply into a surface.</p> + +<p><i>Sea-beast's tooth</i>, the tusks of the walrus.</p> + +<p><i>Sea-mead</i>, the wide surface of the sea. The word means sea-meadow.</p> + +<p><i>Seethe</i>, to bubble and move like boiling water.</p> + +<p><i>Semblance</i>, an appearance, outward show where there is no reality.</p> + +<p><i>Serry</i>, to crowd closely together.</p> + +<p><i>Shards</i>, broken fragments, <i>e.g.</i> "the shards of a glaive of battle."</p> + +<p><i>Shield-burg</i>, a fortress built of shields. Burg means either a town, +a castle, or a fortress.</p> + +<p><i>Shield-wall</i>, the defence made by fighting men holding their shields +close together as they stand at bay.</p> + +<p><i>Shift</i>, <i>n.</i> a trick, cunning plan, <i>e.g.</i> "my cunning shifts;" <i>v.</i> +to contrive, be able, <i>e.g.</i> "the man whose heart and hand may shift, +To pluck it from the oak-wood."</p> + +<p><i>Shimmer</i>, to gleam and change colour as the light alters.</p> + +<p><i>Skerry</i>, a rocky island near the coast.</p> + +<p><i>Slaked</i>, cooled, put out; used of anything that has been burning and +is now grown cold.</p> + +<p><i>Sleight</i>, cunning, trickery. Loki is called "the Master of Sleight" +because of his skill in deceit.</p> + +<p><i>Sleipnir</i>, Odin's horse. It was grey, had eight feet, and could carry +him over sea and land, and could also fly through the air.</p> + +<p><i>Slot</i>, the track left by a wild animal.</p> + +<p><i>Sloth</i>, idleness.</p> + +<p><i>Smithy</i>, to do the work of a smith, forge weapons.</p> + +<p><i>Sooth</i>, truth.</p> + +<p><i>Sore</i>, very much. It is generally used about things which are evil or +painful, but sometimes only to give emphasis, <i>e.g.</i> "amber that the +southern men love sore."</p> + +<p><i>Spear-hedge</i>, the bristling spears of an army in battle; <i>cf.</i> +battle-wood, spear-wood.</p> + +<p><i>Spell-drenched</i>, stupefied or overwhelmed by magic.</p> + +<p><i>Sphere-stream</i>, the space beyond the air of this world, in which the +planets or spheres move on their courses.</p> + +<p><i>Stark</i>, stiff, hard, severe.</p> + +<p><i>Staunch</i>, steadfast, unchanging.</p> + +<p><i>Stead</i>, <i>n.</i> a place; it is often joined to other words, <i>e.g.</i> +hall-stead, a hall or the place where a hall has been, as in the +sentence, "I went to the pillared hall-stead;" <i>v.</i> <i>stead or +bestead</i>, to serve, to aid, <i>e.g.</i> "to stead me in the fight."</p> + +<p><i>Steadfast</i>, unchanging, faithful, unmoved.</p> + +<p><i>Stithy</i>, a blacksmith's forge.</p> + +<p><i>Strait</i>, narrow, cramped.</p> + +<p><i>Stripling</i>, a young man just grown up; <i>cf.</i> youngling.</p> + +<p><i>Sunder</i>, to separate, <i>e.g.</i> "We wend on the sundering ways."</p> + +<p><i>Sun-dog</i>, a bright spot like a faint image of the sun, seen near it +in cloudy weather.</p> + +<p><i>Swaddling</i>, anything that wraps or enfolds, <i>e.g.</i> the coils of +Fafnir passing over Sigurd in the pit are called "the swaddling of +death."</p> + +<p><i>Swart-haired</i>, dark-haired.</p> + +<p><i>Swathe</i>, the long line of mown corn behind a reaper; <i>cf.</i> "swathes +of the sword," <i>i.e.</i> heaps of dead in battle.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Targe</i>, a shield.</p> + +<p><i>Tarry</i>, to wait, to linger, <i>e.g.</i> "Tarry till I say a word."</p> + +<p><i>Thrall</i>, a slave, "<i>short-lived thralls of the gods</i>," mortal men, +not dwarfs or giants.</p> + +<p><i>Tide</i>, time, <i>e.g.</i> "the tide when my father fell;" "the night-tide."</p> + +<p><i>Tiles of Odin</i>, war shields, so called because Odin was god of war.</p> + +<p><i>Tiller</i>, the handle of the rudder which steers a ship.</p> + +<p><i>Toils</i>, snares, fetters.</p> + +<p><i>To-morn</i>, tomorrow morning.</p> + +<p><i>Train</i>, to entice, bring by trickery.</p> + +<p><i>Tree-hole</i>, tree-trunk.</p> + +<p><i>Troth</i>, a promise, generally a promise of marriage.</p> + +<p><i>Troth-plight</i>, promised in marriage.</p> + +<p><i>Trow</i>, to believe.</p> + +<p><i>Twi-bill</i>, an axe with a double-edged blade. It was the weapon which +Odin carried when he appeared to men.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Unbitted</i>, never taught to obey the bit, not broken in.</p> + +<p><i>Unholpen</i>, unhelped. Holpen is the old form of the <i>p.p.</i> helped.</p> + +<p><i>Unstable</i>, changeable, not lasting.</p> + +<p><i>Uttermost horn</i>, the signal for Ragnarok. It was believed that +Heimdall, one of the gods who guarded a bridge called Bifrost between +Asgard and the earth, would blow a blast on his horn which would be +the sign for the beginning of the great battle between the gods and +the powers of evil.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Venom</i>, poison.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Wall-nook</i>, an opening or bend in a wall.</p> + +<p><i>Wallow</i>, to roll about upon the ground, <i>e.g.</i> "Fafnir, the wallower +on the gold."</p> + +<p><i>Wan</i>, pale, pinched with suffering.</p> + +<p><i>Wane</i>, to fade away, grow dim.</p> + +<p><i>Warding-walls</i>, guarding-walls. "<i>Warding walls of death</i>," man's +armour that keeps death from him.</p> + +<p><i>Wards</i>, keepers, <i>e.g.</i> door-wards; <i>cf.</i> warden. Fafnir is called +"the gold-warden."</p> + +<p><i>War-wand</i>, a sword.</p> + +<p><i>Wary</i>, careful, ever on the watch.</p> + +<p><i>Waste</i>, to destroy, to sweep away, <i>e.g.</i> Sigurd is said to "waste +every wrong."</p> + +<p><i>Waxen</i>, grown, become.</p> + +<p><i>Weal</i>, happiness, good-fortune.</p> + +<p><i>Wedge-array</i>, an arrangement of fighting men in which they stood +close together in the form of a triangle.</p> + +<p><i>Weed</i>, dress.</p> + +<p><i>Well up</i>, to rise as a spring bubbles out of the ground; used of +feelings with the meaning "to arise and grow strong," <i>e.g.</i> "Wrath in +his heart wells up."</p> + +<p><i>Welter</i>, the toss and ripple of the sea-waves.</p> + +<p><i>Wend</i>, to go.</p> + +<p><i>Whetted</i>, stirred up, made sharp or eager, <i>e.g.</i> "the whetted +Wrath."</p> + +<p><i>Whileome</i>, in the past, once upon a time.</p> + +<p><i>Whiles</i>, from time to time.</p> + +<p><i>Whit</i>, a very small particle, a trifle, <i>e.g.</i> never a whit, no whit.</p> + +<p><i>Wight</i>, a man, a creature, <i>e.g.</i> sea-wights, great sea-monsters.</p> + +<p><i>Wise</i>, way, manner, after the fashion of.</p> + +<p><i>Witch-wife</i>, witch. Wife here means woman.</p> + +<p><i>Wold</i>, a hill; often used to mean open country.</p> + +<p><i>Wood-craft</i>, knowledge of the woods and of all creatures in them, +<i>e.g.</i> "His wood-craft waxed so great, that he seemed the king of the +creatures."</p> + +<p><i>Wot</i>, to know.</p> + +<p><i>Wrack</i>, strife, destruction, ruins. <i>Wrack of a mighty battle</i>, the +dead left on the field.</p> + +<p><i>Wrights</i>, workmen, makers.</p> + +<p><i>Writhen</i>, bent, twisted out of shape, <i>e.g.</i> "Writhen and foul were +the hands that made it glorious."</p> + +<p><i>Written spear</i>, a spear carved with letters or words.</p> +<br /> + +<p><i>Yearn</i>, to long, to feel tenderness towards, <i>e.g.</i> "My heart to him +doth yearn."</p> + +<p><i>Yore</i>, long ago; generally used in the expression "of yore," +formerly, once upon a time.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<br /> + +<p><b>LONGMANS' CLASS-BOOKS OF ENGLISH LITERATURE</b></p> + +<p><i>Each Volume contains an Introduction and Notes.</i></p> + +<p>Alcott's Little Women.</p> + +<p>Allen's Heroes of Indian History and Stories of their Times. With Maps +and Illustrations.</p> + +<p>Anderson's English Letters selected for Reading in Schools.</p> + +<p>Arnold's Sohrab and Rustum, and Balder Dead.</p> + +<p>Ballantyne's The Coral Island. (Abridged).</p> + +<p>Carroll's Alice in Wonderland.</p> + +<p>Cook's (Captain) Voyages.</p> + +<p>Defoe's Robinson Crusoe. (Abridged). With Illustrations.</p> + +<p>Dickens' A Christmas Carol.</p> + +<p>Dickens, Selections from. With Illustrations.</p> + +<p>Doyle's Micah Clarke. (Abridged). With 20 Illustrations.</p> + +<p>Doyle's The Refugees. (Abridged). With Illustrations.</p> + +<p>Doyle's The White Company. (Abridged). With 12 Illustrations.</p> + +<p>Fronde's Short Studies on Great Subjects. Selections. With Illustrations.</p> + +<p>Haggard's Eric Bright eyes. (Abridged).</p> + +<p>Haggard's Lysbeth. (Abridged).</p> + +<p>Hawthorne's A Wonder Book.</p> + +<p>Hawthorne's Tanglewood Tales.</p> + +<p>Hughes' Tom Brown's School Days. (Abridged) With Frontispiece.</p> + +<p>Jefferies (Richard), Selections from.</p> + +<p>Kingsley's The Heroes. With Illustrations.</p> + +<p>Kingsley's Hereward the Wake. (Abridged).</p> + +<p>Kingsley's Westward Ho!</p> + +<p>Lambs' Tales from Shakespeare. (Abridged.)</p> + +<p>Lang's Tales of the Greek Seas. With Illustrations.</p> + +<p>Lang's Tales of Troy. With Illustrations and a Map.</p> + +<p>Macaulay's History of England. Chap I.</p> + +<p>Macaulay's History of England. Chap III.</p> + +<p>Macaulay's History of England, Selections from.</p> + +<p>Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome, &c.</p> + +<p>Marryat's Settlers in Canada.</p> + +<p>Milton's Paradise Lost. Books I, II, III, IV, and V.</p> + +<p>Milton's Comus, Il Penseroso, L'Allegro and Lycidas.</p> + +<p>Morris's Atalanta's Race, and The Proud King.</p> + +<p>Morris's The Man Born to be King.</p> + +<p>Morris's The Story of the Glittering Plain.</p> + +<p>Morris's The Story of Sigurd the Volsung.</p> + +<p>Newman, Literary Selections from.</p> + +<p>Reade's The Cloister and the Hearth.</p> + +<p>Ruskin's King of the Golden River.</p> + +<p>Scott's Lay of the Last Minstrel.</p> + +<p>Scott's Marmion.</p> + +<p>Scott's The Lady of the Lake.</p> + +<p>Scott's The Talisman. (Abridged). </p> + +<p>Scott's A Legend of Montrose. (Abridged).</p> + +<p>Scott's Ivanhoe. (Abridged).</p> + +<p>Scott's Quentin Durward. (Abridged).</p> + +<p>Southey's The Life of Nelson.</p> + +<p>Stevenson's Book of Selections.</p> + +<p>Stevenson's A Child's Garden of Verse. With a Portrait.</p> + +<p>Tales of King Arthur and the Round Table. With Illustrations.</p> + +<p>Thackeray, Selections from.</p> + +<p>Thornton's Selection of Poetry.</p> + +<p>Weyman's The House of the Wolf.</p> + +<p>Zimmern's Gods and Heroes of the North. With Illustrations.</p> +<br /> + +<hr class="full" noshade> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF SIGURD THE VOLSUNG***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 13486-h.txt or 13486-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/4/8/13486">https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/4/8/13486</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Story of Sigurd the Volsung + +Author: William Morris + +Release Date: September 17, 2004 [eBook #13486] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF SIGURD THE VOLSUNG*** + + +E-text prepared by David Starner, Cori Samuel, and the Project Gutenberg +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +THE STORY OF SIGURD THE VOLSUNG + +Written In Verse By + +WILLIAM MORRIS + +With Portions Condensed Into Prose by Winifred Turner, B.A. +Late Assistant Mistress, Ware Grammar School For Girls +And +Helen Scott, M.A. + +1922 + + + + + + + +BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION + +By J. W. Mackail + + +William Morris, one of the most eminent imaginative writers of the +Victorian age, differs from most other poets and men of letters in +two ways--first, he did great work in many other things as well as in +literature; secondly, he had beliefs of his own about the meaning and +conduct of life, about all that men think and do and make, very +different from those of ordinary people, and he carried out these +views in his writings as well as in all the other work he did +throughout his life. + +He was born in 1834. His father, a member of a business firm in the +City of London, was a wealthy man and lived in Essex, in a country +house with large gardens and fields belonging to it, on the edge of +Epping Forest. Until the age of thirteen Morris was at home among a +large family of brothers and sisters. He delighted in the country +life and especially in the Forest, which is one of the most romantic +parts of England, and which he made the scene of many real and +imaginary adventures. From fourteen to eighteen he was at school at +Marlborough among the Wiltshire downs, in a country full of beauty and +history, and close to another of the ancient forests of England, that +of Savernake. He proceeded from school to Exeter College, Oxford, +where he soon formed a close friendship with a remarkable set of young +men of his own age; chief among these, and Morris's closest friend for +the rest of his life, was Edward Burne-Jones, the painter. Study of +the works of John Ruskin confirmed them in the admiration which they +already felt for the life and art of the Middle Ages. In the summer +vacation of 1855 the two friends went to Northern France to see the +beautiful towns and splendid churches with which that country had been +filled between the eleventh and the fifteenth centuries; and there +they made up their minds that they cared for art more than for +anything else, such as wealth or ease or the opinion of the world, +and that as soon as they left Oxford they would become artists. +By art they meant the making of beauty for the adornment and +enrichment of human life, and as artists they meant to strive against +all that was ugly or mean or untruthful in the life of their own time. + +Art, as they understood it, is one single thing covering the whole +of life but practised in many special forms that differ one from +another. Among these many forms of art there are two of principal +importance. One of the two is the art which is concerned with the +making and adorning of the houses in which men and women live; that is +to say, architecture, with all its attendant arts of decoration, +including sculpture, painting, the designing and ornamenting of +metal, wood and glass, carpets, paper-hangings, woven, dyed and +embroidered cloths of all kinds, and all the furniture which a house +may have for use or pleasure. The other is the art which is concerned +with the making and adorning of stories in prose and verse. Both of +these kinds of art were practised by Morris throughout his life. The +former was his principal occupation; he made his living by it, and +built up in it a business which alone made him famous, and which has +had a great influence towards bringing more beauty into daily domestic +life in England and in other countries also. His profession was thus +that of a manufacturer, designer, and decorator. When he had to +describe himself by a single word, he called himself a designer. But +it is the latter branch of his art which principally concerns us now, +the art of a maker and adorner of stories. He became famous in this +kind of art also, both in prose and verse, as a romance-writer and a +poet. But he spoke of it as play rather than work, and although he +spent much time and great pains on it, he regarded it as relaxation +from the harder and more constant work of his life, which was carrying +on the business of designing, painting, weaving, dyeing, printing and +other occupations of that kind. In later life he also gave much of his +time to political and social work, with the object of bringing back +mankind into a path from which they had strayed since the end of the +Middle Ages, and creating a state of society in which art, by the +people and for the people, a joy to the maker and the user, might be +naturally, easily, and universally produced. + +Even as a boy Morris had been noted for his love of reading and +inventing tales; but he did not begin to write any until he had been +for a couple of years at Oxford. His earliest poems and his earliest +written prose tales belong to the same year, 1855, in which he +determined to make art his profession. The first of either that he +published appeared in the Oxford and Cambridge Magazine, which was +started and managed by him and his friends in 1856. In 1858, after he +had left Oxford, he brought out a volume of poems called, after the +title of the first poem in the book, "The Defence of Guenevere." Soon +afterwards he founded, with some of his old Oxford friends and others +whom he had made in London, among whom Dante Gabriel Rossetti was the +leading spirit, the firm of Morris and Company, manufacturers and +decorators. His business, in which he was the principal and finally +the sole partner, took up the main part of his time. He had also +married, and built himself a beautiful small house in Kent, the +decoration of which went busily on for several years. Among all these +other occupations he almost gave up writing stories, but never ceased +reading and thinking about them. In 1865 he came back to live in +London, where, being close to his work, he had more leisure for other +things; and between 1865 and 1870 he wrote between thirty and forty +tales in verse, containing not less than seventy or eighty thousand +lines in all. The longest of these tales, "The Life and Death of +Jason," appeared in 1867. It is the old Greek story of the ship Argo +and the voyage in quest of the Golden Fleece. Twenty-five other tales +are included in "The Earthly Paradise," published in three parts +between 1868 and 1870. + +During these years Morris learned Icelandic, and his next published +works were translations of some of the Icelandic sagas, writings +composed from six to nine hundred years ago, and containing a mass of +legends, histories and romances finely told in a noble language. These +translations were followed in 1876 by his great epic poem, "Sigurd the +Volsung and the Fall of the Niblungs." In that poem he retold a story +of which an Icelandic version, the "Volsunga Saga," written in the +twelfth century, is one of the world's masterpieces. It is the great +epic of Northern Europe, just as the "Iliad" and "Odyssey" of Homer +are the chief epics of ancient Greece, and the "AEneid" of Virgil the +chief epic of the Roman Empire. Morris's love for these great stories +of ancient times led him to rewrite the tale of the Volsungs and +Niblungs, which he reckoned the finest of them all, more fully and on +a larger scale than it had ever been written before. He had already, +in 1875, translated the "AEneid" into verse, and some ten years later, +in 1886-87, he also made a verse translation of the "Odyssey." In 1873 +he had also written another very beautiful poem, "Love is Enough," +containing the story of three pairs of lovers, a countryman and +country-woman, an emperor and empress, and a prince and peasant girl. +This poem was written in the form of a play, not of a narrative. + +To write prose was at first for Morris more difficult than to write +poetry. Verse came naturally to him, and he composed in prose only +with much effort until after long practice. Except for his early tales +in the Oxford and Cambridge Magazine and his translations of Icelandic +sagas, he wrote little but poetry until the year 1882. About that time +he began to give lectures and addresses, and wrote them in great +numbers during the latter part of his life. A number of them were +collected and published in two volumes called "Hopes and Fears for +Art" and "Signs of Change," and many others have been published +separately. He thus gradually accustomed himself to prose composition. +For several years he was too busy with other things, which he thought +more important, to spend time on storytelling; but his instinct forced +itself out again, and in 1886 he began the series of romances in prose +or in mixed prose and verse which went on during the next ten years. +The chief of these are, "A Dream of John Ball," "The House of +Wolfings," "The Roots of the Mountains," "News from Nowhere," "The +Glittering Plain," "The Wood beyond the World," "The Well at the +World's End," "The Water of the Wondrous Isles," and "The Sundering +Flood." During the same years he also translated, out of +Icelandic and old French books, more of the stories which he had +long known and admired. "The Sundering Flood" was written in his last +illness, and finished by him within a few days of his death, in the +autumn of 1896. + + + + +INTRODUCTION TO SIGURD + +By The Editors + + +The story of Sigurd is important to English people not only for its +wondrous beauty, but also on account of its great age, and of what it +tells us about our own Viking ancestors, who first knew the story. + +The tale was known all over the north of Europe, in Denmark, in +Germany, in Norway and Sweden, and in Iceland, hundreds of years +before it was written down. Sometimes different names were given to +the characters, sometimes the events of the story were slightly +altered, but in the main points it was one and the same tale. + +If we look at a map of Europe showing the nations as they were rather +more than a thousand years ago, we see the names of Saxons, Goths, +Danes, and Frisians marked on the lands around the Baltic Sea. Those +who bore these names were the makers of the tale of Sigurd. The name +of the Saxons is, of course, the best known to us, and next in +importance come the people we call Danes, or Northmen, or Vikings, who +attacked the coasts of the Saxon kingdoms in England. The Saxons came +from part of the land that is now known as Germany, and the Vikings +from Denmark and from Scandinavia. + +A third important tribe was that of the Goths, who dwelt first in +South Sweden, and then in Germany. + +All these people resembled one another in their way of life, in their +religion, and in their ideas of what deeds were good and what were +evil. Their lands were barren--too mountainous or too cold to bring +forth fruitful crops, and their homes were not such as would tempt men +never to leave them. So, though they built their little groups of +wooden houses in the valleys of their lands, and made fields and +pastures about them, these were often left to the care of the women +and the feeble men, while the strong men made raids over the sea to +other countries, where they engaged in the fighting which they loved, +and whence they brought back plunder to their homes. North, South, +East, and West they went, till few parts of Europe had not learnt to +know and fear them. + +Their ships were long and narrow, driven often by oars as well as +sails, and outside them, along the bulwarks, the crew hung their round +shields made of yellow wood from the lime-tree. The men wore byrnies +or breast-plates, and helmets, and they were armed with swords, long +spears, or heavy battle-axes. They were enemies none could afford to +despise, for they had great stature and strength of body, joined to +such fierceness and delight in war that they held a man disgraced if +he died peacefully at home. Moreover, they knew nothing of mercy to +the conquered. + +Courage, not only to fight, but also to bear suffering without +impatience or complaint, and the virtue of faithfulness were the +qualities they most honoured. To be wanting in courage was disgraceful +in their eyes, but it was equally disgraceful to refuse to help +kinsfolk, to lie, to deceive, or to desert a chief. + +If they put their enemies to death with fearful tortures, they did not +treat them more severely than the traitors they discovered among +themselves, and if they had no pity for those they conquered, yet they +knew well how to admire great leaders, and how to serve them +faithfully. But we can best realise their ideas on these matters by +considering their religion and their stories. + +They worshipped one chief god, Odin, and other gods and goddesses who +were his children. Odin was often called All-father because he was the +helper and friend of human beings, and appeared on earth in the form +of an old man, "one-eyed and seeming ancient," with cloud-blue hood +and grey cloak. He had courage, strength, and wondrous wisdom, for he +knew all events that happened in the world, and he understood the +speech of birds, and all kinds of charms and magic arts. Men served +him by brave fighting in a good cause, and when they perished in +battle he received their souls in his dwelling of Valhalla in the city +of Asgard, where they spent each day in warfare, and where at evening +the dead were revived, the wounded healed, and all feasted together in +Odin's palace. There they fed upon the flesh of the boar Saehrimner, +which was renewed as fast as it was eaten. Certain maidens called +Valkyrie, or Choosers of the Slain, were Odin's messengers whom he +sent forth into the battles of the world to find the warriors whom he +had appointed to die, and to bring them to Valhalla. + +In the story of Sigurd Odin has a very important part to play, but +for the understanding of the tale it is necessary to know something +about another of the gods. This is Loki, who, though sprung from the +race of the giants, yet lived with the sons of Odin in Asgard, +behaving sometimes as their trusty helper, but more often as their +cunning enemy. He caused much wretchedness, not only among the gods, +but on earth also, for he delighted in the sight of misery. His vices +were all those most hateful to the Norse people, for he was before +all things a liar, a deceiver, a faith-breaker, a skilful worker of +mischief by guile instead of by fair fight. There are many stories of +his cunning thefts, of the miseries he wrought among his companions, +and of his envy of the beloved god Balder, whom he slew by a trick. +His children were terrible monsters, as hated as himself. Yet, +strange to say, Loki was Odin's companion in many of his adventures. + +The gods inhabited Asgard, a city standing on a high mountain in the +middle of the world. Odin's palace of Valhalla was there, and other +palaces for his sons and daughters. All round Asgard lay Midgard, or +the ordinary world of men and women. Its caves and waste places were +inhabited by dwarfs, whom Odin had banished from the light of day for +various ill deeds. They were a spiteful and cunning race, jealous of +mankind, and eager to recover their lost power. Their strength lay in +their wondrous skill in handicraft, for they could forge more deadly +weapons, and fashion more lovely jewels than any made by the hands of +men. But, though possessed of wisdom, they had no spirit of kindness, +no respect for right, and no dislike of wrong. + +Around Midgard lay the sea, and beyond that Utgard, a hideous frozen +country inhabited by giants, enemies of the gods. + +But this arrangement of the world was only for a season. The gods +themselves looked forward to a time of defeat and death, when Asgard +should perish in flames and the world with it, and the sun and moon +should be darkened, and they themselves should be slain. This great +day was called Ragnarok, or sometimes the Twilight of the Gods. Then +Loki would gather giants and monsters to a great battle against the +gods, who would slay their enemies, but who would themselves fall in +the struggle. The sea would drown the earth, the stars would fall, +and all things would pass away. + +This terrible fate the gods awaited with calm and cheerfulness, +showing even greater courage than in their many deeds of war. They +had to submit to this fate, for there were three beings even greater +than they. These were the Norns, deciders of the fate of gods and men +alike. They were three giant maidens who dwelt by a sacred, +wisdom-giving fountain, and who controlled the lives of men, giving +to each sickness and health, success and failure and death when they +would. No man or god might escape what the Norns decreed for him. + +Many stories of these gods, together with tales of famous men, were +told among the northern peoples. These stories were passed on from +one to another by word of mouth, till they grew much longer and +fuller, and the happening of certain historical events helped to take +them from country to country. + +As we have seen, all the races of the North were warlike and eager +for adventure, and so when trouble came upon them in their own homes, +they readily took to the sea to plunder the coasts or to conquer +other lands. Between 800 and 900 A.D., when the Danes were invading +England, many were driven from Norway because they refused to submit +to a king called Harold Fairhair, and when he pursued them to the +Orkney and Faroe Islands they took refuge on the coasts of Iceland. +There they settled, built themselves wooden houses, planted such +crops as would grow in that bleak land, and founded a commonwealth. +Little by little they left the old Viking life, and it lived only in +their songs and stories. + +They had come to Iceland with a vast stock of tales in poetry, which +were related or sung by professional poets, called skalds, at all +kinds of feasts and gatherings. The skalds arranged and improved the +old stories, but they were not written down until about the time of +our King Stephen, when some unknown writer collected them into one +book called the Elder Edda. Very soon after this another book was +written containing the same stories in prose and called the Younger +or Prose Edda. In this way many of the old poems, and a great many +stories containing much information about the religion which the +people took with them to Iceland, have been preserved. + +But it was from neither of the Eddas that William Morris took his +story of Sigurd. + +All through the period from 800 A.D. till about the time of Henry III. +of England, the skalds had been re-telling many of the poetic stories +in prose, and as the people grew more civilised, one tale after +another was written down in its new form. + +These prose tales were called Sagas, and among the very greatest is +the Volsunga Saga, or Story of Sigurd. It is a tale which has been +told in other lands besides Iceland. We read part of the same story +in the Old English poem of Beowulf, and in Germany it was made into +a great poem called the Nibelungenlied. The German musician, Richard +Wagner, set it to music in a famous series of operas called the +Nibelungen Ring. But his tale differs in many points from that +contained in Morris's poem, for Morris chose the old saga as it was +written in Iceland, not the German story. On this he founded his poem, +adding much beautiful description, and greatly lengthening the whole. + +The story deals first with a certain King Volsung, to whose son, +Sigmund, Odin presented a magic sword. + +But Siggeir, the jealous king of the Goths, slew Volsung, and took +Sigmund prisoner that he might have the sword for himself. Only after +many toils and perils did Sigmund win it back and reign in his +father's kingdom. At last in his old age he fell in battle and the +sword of Odin was shattered. But his wife, Queen Hiordis, kept the +fragments for the son who was born to her soon after in Denmark, +whither she fled for safety. This son of Sigmund and Hiordis was +Sigurd the Volsung. He was brought up in Denmark and grew strong +and beautiful, brave, kind of heart, and utterly truthful in word +and deed. + +When he became a man he longed to win fame and kingship by mighty +deeds, and when his tutor told him of a great dragon that guarded a +hoard of ill-gotten gold in the mountains, he resolved to kill it. So +the fragments of Odin's sword were forged into a new blade, and +Sigurd slew the dragon and took the gold, but with it he brought on +himself a curse which had been put upon the treasure by the dwarf +from whom it had been stolen. + +Sigurd then found and wakened Brynhild, a maiden who lay in an +enchanted sleep upon a high mountain. They loved one another, and +Sigurd gave her a ring from the dragon's treasure, promising to +return and marry her. + +Then the curse led him to join with the fierce and treacherous +Niblungs or Cloudy People. Their king and his mother grew jealous +when they saw Sigurd more mighty and more beloved than themselves, +and by enchantments they caused him to forget Brynhild, to wed the +princess Gudrun, and at last to aid the Niblung king, Gunnar, to win +Brynhild for his own wife. + +Then the curse of the gold brought death to many, for Sigurd and +Brynhild discovered all the treachery of the Niblungs, who, in their +anger, slew Sigurd, and Brynhild killed herself that she might not +live and sorrow for him. + +Such is the story of Sigurd as it was told a thousand years ago in +distant Iceland, and as it is retold in this poem by William Morris. + + + + +THE STORY OF +SIGURD THE VOLSUNG. + + +BOOK I. + +SIGMUND. + + +_Of the dwelling of King Volsung, and the wedding of Signy his +daughter._ + + + There was a dwelling of Kings ere the world was waxen old; + Dukes were the door-wards there, and the roofs were thatched with gold: + Earls were the wrights that wrought it, and silver nailed its doors; + Earls' wives were the weaving-women, queens' daughters strewed its floors, + And the masters of its song-craft were the mightiest men that cast + The sails of the storm of battle adown the bickering blast. + There dwelt men merry-hearted, and in hope exceeding great + Met the good days and the evil as they went the way of fate: + There the Gods were unforgotten, yea whiles they walked with men, + Though e'en in that world's beginning rose a murmur now and again + Of the midward time and the fading and the last of the latter days, + And the entering in of the terror, and the death of the People's Praise. + + Thus was the dwelling of Volsung, the King of the Midworld's Mark, + As a rose in the winter season, a candle in the dark; + And as in all other matters 'twas all earthly houses' crown, + And the least of its wall-hung shields was a battle-world's renown, + So therein withal was a marvel and a glorious thing to see, + For amidst of its midmost hall-floor sprang up a mighty tree, + That reared its blessings roofward, and wreathed the roof-tree dear + With the glory of the summer and the garland of the year. + I know not how they called it ere Volsung changed his life, + But his dawning of fair promise, and his noontide of the strife, + His eve of the battle-reaping and the garnering of his fame, + Have bred us many a story and named us many a name; + And when men tell of Volsung, they call that war-duke's tree, + That crowned stem, the Branstock; and so was it told unto me. + + So there was the throne of Volsung beneath its blossoming bower, + But high o'er the roof-crest red it rose 'twixt tower and tower, + And therein were the wild hawks dwelling, abiding the dole of their lord; + And they wailed high over the wine, and laughed to the waking sword. + + Still were its boughs but for them, when lo, on an even of May + Comes a man from Siggeir the King with a word for his mouth to say: + "All hail to thee King Volsung, from the King of the Goths I come: + He hath heard of thy sword victorious and thine abundant home; + He hath heard of thy sons in the battle, the fillers of Odin's Hall; + And a word hath the west-wind blown him, (full fruitful be its fall!) + A word of thy daughter Signy the crown of womanhood: + Now he deems thy friendship goodly, and thine help in the battle good, + And for these will he give his friendship and his battle-aid again: + But if thou wouldst grant his asking, and make his heart full fain, + Then shalt thou give him a matter, saith he, without a price, + --Signy the fairer than fair, Signy the wiser than wise." + +Now the message gladdened Volsung and his sons, but no word spake +Signy, till the king asked her what her mind might be. Then said +Signy, "I will wed the Goth king, and yet shall I rue my lot in his +hall." And Volsung urged her with kind words to do nought against her +will, but her mind was fixed, and she said she wrought but what the +gods had fore-ordained. So the earl of Siggeir went his way with +gifts and fair words, bidding the Goth king come ere a month was over +to wed the white-handed Signy and bear her home. + + So on Mid-Summer Even ere the undark night began + Siggeir the King of the Goth-folk went up from the bath of the swan + Unto the Volsung dwelling with many an Earl about; + There through the glimmering thicket the linked mail rang out, + And sang as mid the woodways sings the summer-hidden ford: + There were gold-rings God-fashioned, and many a Dwarf-wrought sword, + And many a Queen-wrought kirtle and many a written spear; + So came they to the acres, and drew the threshold near, + And amidst of the garden blossoms, on the grassy, fruit-grown land, + Was Volsung the King of the Wood-world with his sons on either hand; + Therewith down lighted Siggeir the lord of a mighty folk, + Yet showed he by King Volsung as the bramble by the oak, + Nor reached his helm to the shoulder of the least of Volsung's sons. + And so into the hall they wended, the Kings and their mighty ones; + And they dight the feast full glorious, and drank through the death of the + day, + Till the shadowless moon rose upward, till it wended white away; + Then they went to the gold-hung beds, and at last for an hour or twain + Were all things still and silent, save a flaw of the summer rain. + + But on the morrow noontide when the sun was high and bare, + More glorious was the banquet, and now was Signy there, + And she sat beside King Siggeir, a glorious bride forsooth; + Ruddy and white was she wrought as the fair-stained sea-beast's tooth, + But she neither laughed nor spake, and her eyes were hard and cold, + And with wandering side-long looks her lord would she behold. + That saw Sigmund her brother, the eldest Volsung son, + And oft he looked upon her, and their eyes met now and anon, + And ruth arose in his heart, and hate of Siggeir the Goth, + And there had he broken the wedding, but for plighted promise and troth. + But those twain were beheld of Siggeir, and he deemed of the Volsung kin, + That amid their might and their malice small honour should he win; + Yet thereof made he no semblance, but abided times to be, + And laughed out with the loudest, amid the hope and the glee. + And nought of all saw Volsung, as he dreamed of the coming glory, + And how the Kings of his kindred should fashion the round world's story. + + So round about the Branstock they feast in the gleam of the gold; + And though the deeds of man-folk were not yet waxen old, + Yet had they tales for songcraft, and the blossomed garth of rhyme; + Tales of the framing of all things and the entering in of time + From the halls of the outer heaven; so near they knew the door. + Wherefore uprose a sea-king, and his hands that loved the oar + Now dealt with the rippling harp-gold, and he sang of the shaping of earth, + And how the stars were lighted, and where the winds had birth, + And the gleam of the first of summers on the yet untrodden grass. + But e'en as men's hearts were hearkening some heard the thunder pass + O'er the cloudless noontide heaven; and some men turned about + And deemed that in the doorway they heard a man laugh out. + Then into the Volsung dwelling a mighty man there strode, + One-eyed and seeming ancient, yet bright his visage glowed: + Cloud-blue was the hood upon him, and his kirtle gleaming-grey + As the latter morning sundog when the storm is on the way: + A bill he bore on his shoulder, whose mighty ashen beam + Burnt bright with the flame of the sea and the blended silver's gleam. + And such was the guise of his raiment as the Volsung elders had told + Was borne by their fathers' fathers, and the first that warred in the wold. + + So strode he to the Branstock nor greeted any lord, + But forth from his cloudy raiment he drew a gleaming sword, + And smote it deep in the tree-hole, and the wild hawks overhead + Laughed 'neath the naked heaven as at last he spake and said: + + "Earls of the Goths, and Volsungs, abiders on the earth, + Lo there amid the Branstock a blade of plenteous worth! + The folk of the war-wand's forgers wrought never better steel + Since first the burg of heaven uprose for man-folk's weal. + Now let the man among you whose heart and hand may shift + To pluck it from the oakwood e'en take it for my gift. + Then ne'er, but his own heart falter, its point and edge shall fail + Until the night's beginning and the ending of the tale. + Be merry Earls of the Goth-folk, O Volsung Sons be wise + And reap the battle-acre that ripening for you lies: + For they told me in the wild wood, I heard on the mountain side, + That the shining house of heaven is wrought exceeding wide, + And that there the Early-comers shall have abundant rest + While Earth grows scant of great ones, and fadeth from its best, + And fadeth from its midward and groweth poor and vile:-- + All hail to thee King Volsung! farewell for a little while!" + + So sweet his speaking sounded, so wise his words did seem, + That moveless all men sat there, as in a happy dream + We stir not lest we waken; but there his speech had end, + And slowly down the hall-floor, and outward did he wend; + And none would cast him a question or follow on his ways, + For they knew that the gift was Odin's, a sword for the world to praise. + + But now spake Volsung the King: "Why sit ye silent and still? + Is the Battle-Father's visage a token of terror and ill? + Arise O Volsung Children, Earls of the Goths arise, + And set your hands to the hilts as mighty men and wise! + Yet deem it not too easy; for belike a fateful blade + Lies there in the heart of the Branstock for a fated warrior made." + + Now therewith spake King Siggeir: "King Volsung give me a grace + To try it the first of all men, lest another win my place + And mere chance-hap steal my glory and the gain that I might win." + + Then somewhat laughed King Volsung, and he said: "O Guest, begin; + Though herein is the first as the last, for the Gods have long to live, + Nor hath Odin yet forgotten unto whom the gift he would give." + + Then forth to the tree went Siggeir, the Goth-folk's mighty lord, + And laid his hand on the gemstones, and strained at the glorious sword + Till his heart grew black with anger; and never a word he said + As he wended back to the high-seat: but Signy waxed blood-red + When he sat him adown beside her; and her heart was nigh to break + For the shame and the fateful boding: and therewith King Volsung spake: + + "Thus comes back empty-handed the mightiest King of Earth, + And how shall the feeble venture? yet each man knows his worth; + And today may a great beginning from a little seed upspring + To o'erpass many a great one that hath the name of King: + So stand forth free and unfree; stand forth both most and least: + But first ye Earls of the Goth-folk, ye lovely lords we feast." + + Upstood the Earls of Siggeir, and each man drew anigh + And deemed his time was coming for a glorious gain and high; + But for all their mighty shaping and their deeds in the battle-wood, + No looser in the Branstock that gift of Odin stood. + Then uprose Volsung's homemen, and the fell-abiding folk; + And the yellow-headed shepherds came gathering round the Oak, + And the searchers of the thicket and the dealers with the oar: + And the least and the worst of them all was a mighty man of war. + But for all their mighty shaping, and the struggle and the strain + Of their hands, the deft in labour, they tugged thereat in vain; + And still as the shouting and jeers, and the names of men and the laughter + Beat backward from gable to gable, and rattled o'er roof-tree and rafter, + Moody and still sat Siggeir; for he said: "They have trained me here + As a mock for their woodland bondsmen; and yet shall they buy it dear." + + Now the tumult sank a little, and men cried on Volsung the King + And his sons, the hedge of battle, to try the fateful thing. + So Volsung laughed, and answered: "I will set me to the toil, + Lest these my guests of the Goth-folk should deem I fear the foil. + Yet nought am I ill-sworded, and the oldest friend is best; + And this, my hand's first fellow, will I bear to the grave-mound's rest, + Nor wield meanwhile another: Yea, this shall I have in hand + When mid the host of Odin in the Day of Doom I stand." + + Therewith from his belt of battle he raised the golden sheath, + And showed the peace-strings glittering about the hidden death: + Then he laid his hand on the Branstock, and cried: "O tree beloved, + I thank thee of thy good-heart that so little thou art moved: + Abide thou thus, green bower, when I am dead and gone + And the best of all my kindred a better day hath won!" + + Then as a young man laughed he, and on the hilts of gold + His hand, the battle-breaker, took fast and certain hold, + And long he drew and strained him, but mended not the tale, + Yet none the more thereover his mirth of heart did fail; + But he wended to the high-seat and thence began to cry: + + "Sons I have gotten and cherished, now stand ye forth to try; + Lest Odin tell in God-home how from the way he strayed, + And how to the man he would not he gave away his blade." + So therewithal rose Rerir, and wasted might and main; + Then Gunthiof, and then Hunthiof, they wearied them in vain; + Nought was the might of Agnar; nought Helgi could avail; + Sigi the tall and Solar no further brought the tale, + Nor Geirmund the priest of the temple, nor Gylfi of the wood. + + At last by the side of the Branstock Sigmund the Volsung stood, + And with right hand wise in battle the precious sword-hilt caught, + Yet in a careless fashion, as he deemed it all for nought: + When lo, from floor to rafter went up a shattering shout, + For aloft in the hand of Sigmund the naked blade shone out + As high o'er his head he shook it: for the sword had come away + From the grip of the heart of the Branstock, as though all loose it lay. + A little while he stood there mid the glory of the hall, + Like the best of the trees of the garden, when the April sunbeams fall + On its blossomed boughs in the morning, and tell of the days to be; + Then back unto the high-seat he wended soberly; + For this was the thought within him; Belike the day shall come + When I shall bide here lonely amid the Volsung home, + Its glory and sole avenger, its after-summer seed. + Yea, I am the hired of Odin, his workday will to speed, + And the harvest-tide shall be heavy.--What then, were it come and past + And I laid by the last of the sheaves with my wages earned at the last? + + He lifted his eyes as he thought it, for now was he come to his place, + And there he stood by his father and met Siggeir face to face, + And he saw him blithe and smiling, and heard him how he spake: + "O best of the sons of Volsung, I am merry for thy sake + And the glory that thou hast gained us; but whereas thine hand and heart + Are e'en now the lords of the battle, how lack'st thou for thy part + A matter to better the best? Wilt thou overgild fine gold + Or dye the red rose redder? So I prithee let me hold + This sword that comes to thine hand on the day I wed thy kin. + For at home have I a store-house; there is mountain-gold therein + The weight of a war-king's harness; there is silver plenteous store; + There is iron, and huge-wrought amber, that the southern men love sore, + When they sell me the woven wonder, the purple born of the sea; + And it hangeth up in that bower, and all this is a gift for thee: + But the sword that came to my wedding, methinketh it meet and right, + That it lie on my knees in the council and stead me in the fight." + + But Sigmund laughed and answered, and he spake a scornful word: + "And if I take twice that treasure, will it buy me Odin's sword, + And the gift that the Gods have given? will it buy me again to stand + Betwixt two mightiest world-kings with a longed-for thing in mine hand + That all their might hath missed of? when the purple-selling men + Come buying thine iron and amber, dost thou sell thine honour then? + Do they wrap it in bast of the linden, or run it in moulds of earth? + And shalt thou account mine honour as a matter of lesser worth? + Came the sword to thy wedding, Goth-king, to thine hand it never came, + And thence is thine envy whetted to deal me this word of shame." + + Black then was the heart of Siggeir, but his face grew pale and red, + Till he drew a smile thereover, and spake the word and said: + "Nay, pardon me, Signy's kinsman! when the heart desires o'ermuch + It teacheth the tongue ill speaking, and my word belike was such. + But the honour of thee and thy kindred, I hold it even as mine, + And I love you as my heart-blood, and take ye this for a sign. + I bid thee now King Volsung, and these thy glorious sons, + And thine earls and thy dukes of battle and all thy mighty ones, + To come to the house of the Goth-kings as honoured guests and dear + And abide the winter over; that the dusky days and drear + May be glorious with thy presence, that all folk may praise my life, + And the friends that my fame hath gotten; and that this my new-wed wife + Thine eyes may make the merrier till she bear my eldest born." + + Then speedily answered Volsung: "No king of the earth might scorn + Such noble bidding, Siggeir; and surely will I come + To look upon thy glory and the Goths' abundant home. + But let two months wear over, for I have many a thing + To shape and shear in the Woodland, as befits a people's king: + And thou meanwhile here abiding of all my goods shalt be free, + And then shall we twain together roof over the glass-green sea + With the sides of our golden dragons; and our war-hosts' blended shields + Shall fright the sea-abiders and the folk of the fishy fields." + + Answered the smooth-speeched Siggeir: "I thank thee well for this, + And thy bidding is most kingly; yet take it not amiss + That I wend my ways in the morning; for we Goth-folk know indeed + That the sea is a foe full deadly, and a friend that fails at need." + + * * * * * + + And for all the words of Volsung e'en so must the matter be, + And Siggeir the Goth and Signy on the morn shall sail the sea. + +Then the feast sped on the fairer, far into the night, but amidst the +mirth Sigmund and Signy were sad at heart. And before the sun was +risen next day Signy came to her father in secret and begged him to +stay in his own country rather than trust the guileful heart and +murder-loving hand of Siggeir. But Volsung answered that he must go +to be Siggeir's guest, for he could not break his pledged word +through fear of peril. So on the morrow the smooth-speeched Siggeir +departed with Signy, and when two months were passed Volsung made +ready to visit them. + + +_How the Volsungs fared to the Land of the Goths, and of the +fall of King Volsung._ + + * * * * * + + So now, when all things were ready, in the first of the autumn tide + Adown unto the swan-bath the Volsung Children ride; + And lightly go a shipboard, a goodly company, + Though the tale thereof be scanty and their ships no more than three: + But kings' sons dealt with the sail-sheets and earls and dukes of war + Were the halers of the hawsers and the tuggers at the oar. + + * * * * * + + But when the sun on the morrow shone over earth and sea + Ashore went the Volsung Children a goodly company, + And toward King Siggeir's dwelling o'er heath and holt they went. + But when they came to the topmost of a certain grassy bent, + Lo there lay the land before them as thick with shield and spear + As the rich man's wealthiest acre with the harvest of the year. + There bade King Volsung tarry and dight the wedge-array; + "For duly," he said, "doeth Siggeir to meet his guests by the way." + So shield by shield they serried, nor ever hath been told + Of any host of battle more glorious with the gold; + And there stood the high King Volsung in the very front of war; + And lovelier was his visage than ever heretofore, + As he rent apart the peace-strings that his brand of battle bound + And the bright blade gleamed to the heavens, and he cast the sheath to the + ground. + Then up the steep came the Goth-folk, and the spear-wood drew anigh, + And earth's face shook beneath them, yet cried they never a cry; + And the Volsungs stood all silent, although forsooth at whiles + O'er the faces grown earth-weary would play the flickering smiles, + And swords would clink and rattle: not long had they to bide, + For soon that flood of murder flowed round the hillock-side; + Then at last the edges mingled, and if men forbore the shout, + Yet the din of steel and iron in the grey clouds rang about; + But how to tell of King Volsung, and the valour of his folk! + Three times the wood of battle before their edges broke; + And the shield-wall, sorely dwindled and reft of the ruddy gold, + Against the drift of the war-blast for the fourth time yet did hold. + But men's shields were waxen heavy with the weight of shafts they bore, + And the fifth time many a champion cast earthward Odin's door + And gripped the sword two-handed; and in sheaves the spears came on. + And at last the host of the Goth-folk within the shield-wall won, + And wild was the work within it, and oft and o'er again + Forth brake the sons of Volsung, and drave the foe in vain; + For the driven throng still thickened, till it might not give aback. + But fast abode King Volsung amid the shifting wrack + In the place where once was the forefront: for he said: "My feet are old, + And if I wend on further there is nought more to behold + Than this that I see about me."--Whiles drew his foes away + And stared across the corpses that before his sword-edge lay. + But nought he followed after: then needs must they in front + Thrust on by the thickening spear-throng come up to bear the brunt, + Till all his limbs were weary and his body rent and torn: + Then he cried: "Lo now, Allfather, is not the swathe well shorn? + Wouldst thou have me toil for ever, nor win the wages due?" + + And mid the hedge of foemen his blunted sword he threw, + And, laid like the oars of a longship the level war-shafts pressed + On 'gainst the unshielded elder, and clashed amidst his breast; + And dead he fell, thrust backward, and rang on the dead men's gear: + But still for a certain season durst no man draw anear, + For 'twas e'en as a great God's slaying, and they feared the wrath of + the sky; + And they deemed their hearts might harden if awhile they should let him lie. + + +_Of the ending of all Volsung's Sons save Sigmund only, and of how +he abideth in the wild wood._ + +They joined battle again, but the fight grew feeble after Volsung +fell, and his earls were struck down one by one. Last of all, his sons +were borne to earth and carried captive to the hall, where Siggeir +awaited them, for he himself had feared to face the Volsung swords. + +Then he would have slain them at once without torture, but Signy +besought him that they might breathe the earthly air a day or two +before their death, and he listened to her, for he saw how he might +thus give them greater pain. He bade his men lead them to a glade in +the forest and fetter them to the mightiest tree that grew there. So +the ten Volsungs were fettered with iron to a great oak, and on the +morrow Siggeir's woodmen told him sweet tidings, for beasts of the +wood had devoured two and left their bones in the fetters. So it +befell every night till the woodmen brought word that nothing +remained of the king's foemen save their bones in the fetters that +had bound them. + +Now a watch had been set on Signy lest she should send help to her +brethren, but henceforth no man hindered her from going out to the +wood. So that night she came to the glade in the forest, and saw in +the midst of it a mighty man who was toiling to dig a grave in the +greensward. + + And behold, it was Sigmund the Volsung: but she cried and had no fear: + + "If thou art living, Sigmund, what day's work dost thou here + In the midnight and the forest? but if thou art nought but a ghost + Then where are those Volsung brethren, of whom thou wert best and most?" + + Then he turned about unto her, and his raiment was fouled and torn, + And his eyen were great and hollow, as a famished man forlorn; + + But he cried: "Hail, Sister Signy! I looked for thee before, + Though what should a woman compass, she one alone and no more, + When all we shielded Volsungs did nought in Siggeir's land? + O yea, I am living indeed, and this labour of mine hand + Is to bury the bones of the Volsungs; and lo, it is well-nigh done. + So draw near, Volsung's daughter, and pile we many a stone + Where lie the grey wolf's gleanings of what was once so good." + + So she set her hand to the labour, and they toiled, they twain in the wood, + And when the work was over, dead night was beginning to fall: + Then spake the white-hand Signy: "Now shall thou tell the tale + Of the death of the Volsung brethren ere the wood thy wrath shall hide, + Ere I wend me back sick-hearted in the dwelling of kings to abide." + +Then said Sigmund: + +"We lay fettered to the tree and at midnight there came from the +thicket two mighty wood-wolves, and falling on my brethren Gylfi and +Geirmund, they devoured them in their bonds, and turned again to the +forest. Night after night, my sister, this befell, till I was left +alone with our brother Sigi to await the wood-beasts. Then came +midnight, and one of the wolves fell upon Sigi and the other turned +on me. But I met it with snarling like its own, and my teeth gripped +its throat, and my hands strove with the fetters till they burst. So +I slew the beast with my irons, but when I looked, Sigi lay dead, and +the other wolf had fled again to the thicket. Then I lay hid till +Siggeir's woodmen had looked on the place and departed with their +tidings, and as I beheld them I knew that pity was killed in my +heart, and that henceforward I should live but to avenge me on him +who hath so set the gods at nought." Then Signy spake noble words of +comfort, saying: "I wot well that Siggeir shall pay the due price of +his deeds, though the vengeance may tarry long, and I wot also that +thy life shall yet know gladness. Bear a stout heart, therefore, to +meet the waiting time, and make thee a lair in the woods whence thou +mayest fall on men of the Goth-folk, and win what thy life needeth. +As for me, I will see thy face once again ere many days are past to +wot where thou dwellest and then must we meet no more." + +And so saying, she kissed him and departed, but Sigmund turned in the +dawn-light, and sought a wood-lair as she had bidden him. + + +_Of the fostering of Sinfiotli, Signy's son, and of the slaying of +Siggeir the Goth-king._ + + So wrought is the will of King Siggeir, and he weareth Odin's sword + And it lies on his knees in the council and hath no other lord: + And he sendeth earls o'er the sea-flood to take King Volsung's land, + And those scattered and shepherdless sheep must come beneath his hand. + And he holdeth the milk-white Signy as his handmaid and his wife, + And nought but his will she doeth, nor raiseth a word of strife; + So his heart is praising his wisdom, and he deems him of most avail + Of all the lords of the cunning that teacheth how to prevail. + +Now Sigmund dwelt long in the wild-wood, abiding in a strong cave deep +hidden in a thicket by the river-side. + +And now and again he fell upon the folk of Siggeir as they journeyed, +and slew them, and thus he had war-gear and gold as much as he would. +Also he became a master of masters in the smithying craft, and the +folk who beheld the gleam of his forge by night, deemed that a king +of the Giants was awakened from death to dwell there, and they durst +not wander near the cavern. + +So passed the years till on a springtide morning Signy sent forth to +Sigmund a damsel leading her eldest son, a child of ten summers, and +bearing a word of her mouth to bid him foster the child for his +helper, if he should prove worthy and bold-hearted. And Sigmund +heeded her words and fostered the child for the space of three months +even though he could give no love to a son of Siggeir. + +At last he was minded to try the boy's courage, to which end he set a +deadly ash-grey adder in the meal-sack, and bade the child bake bread. +But he feared when he found something that moved in the meal and had +not courage to do the task. Then would Sigmund foster him no longer, +but thrust him out from the woods to return to his father's hall. + +So ten years won over again, and Signy sent another son to the +wild-wood, and the lad was called Sinfiotli. Sigmund thrust him into +many dangers, and burdened him with heavy loads, and he bore all +passing well. + +Now after a year Sigmund deemed that the time for his testing was +come, and once again he set an adder in the meal-sack and bade the +lad bake bread. And the boy feared not the worm, but kneaded it with +the dough and baked all together. So Sigmund cherished him as his own +son, and he grew strong and valiant and loved Sigmund as his father. + +Now Sigmund began to ponder how he might at last take vengeance on +Siggeir, and gladly did Sinfiotli hear him, for all his love was +given to Sigmund, so that he no longer deemed himself the Goth-king's +son. + +At last when the long mirk nights of winter were come, Sigmund and his +foster-son went their way to the home of Siggeir and sought to lurk +therein. Then Sinfiotli led the way to a storehouse where lay great +wine-casks, and whence they could see the lighted feast-hall, and +hear the clamour of Siggeir's folk. There they had to abide the time +when the feasters should be hushed in sleep. Long seemed the hours to +Sinfiotli, but Sigmund was calm and clear-eyed. + +Then it befell that two of Queen Signy's youngest-born children threw +a golden toy hither and thither in the feast-hall, and at last it +rolled away among the wine-casks till it lay at Sigmund's feet. So the +children followed it, and coming face to face with those lurkers, they +fled back to the feast-hall. And Sigmund and his foster-son saw all +hope was ended, for they heard the rising tumult as men ran to their +weapons; so they made ready to go forth and die in the hall. Then on +came the battle around the twain, and but short is the tale to tell, +for Sinfiotli slipped on the blood-stained floor and the shield wall +encompassed Sigmund, and so they were both hoppled strait and fast. + +The Goth-folk washed their hall of blood and got them to slumber, but +Siggeir lay long pondering what dire death he might bring on his foes. + +Now at the first grey dawning Siggeir's folk dight a pit and it had +two chambers with a sundering stone in the midst. Then they brought +the Volsung kindred and set them therein, one in each chamber, that +they might abide death alone, and yet in hearing of one another's woe. +And over the top the thralls laid roofing turfs, but so lingering were +their hands that eve drew on ere the task was finished. Then stole +Signy forth in the dusk, and spake the thralls fair, and gave them +gold that they might hold their peace of what she did. And when they +gainsaid her nought she drew out something wrapped in wheat straw, and +cast it down swiftly into the pit where Sinfiotli lay, and departed. + +Sinfiotli at first deemed it food, but after a space Sigmund heard him +laugh aloud for joy, for within the wrappings lay the sword of the +Branstock. And Sinfiotli cried out the joyous tidings to his +foster-father, and tarried not to set the point to the stone that +sundered them, and lo, the blade pierced through, and Sigmund grasped +the point. Then sawed Sigmund and Sinfiotli together till they cleft +the stone, and they hewed full hard at the roofing, till they cast the +turfs aside, and their hearts were gladdened with the sight of the +starry heaven. + +Forth they leapt, and no words were needed of whither they should +wend, but they fell on King Siggeir's night-watch and slew them +sleeping, and made haste to find the store of winter faggots, +wherewith they built a mighty bale about the hall of Siggeir. They +set a torch to the bale, and Sigmund gat him to one hall door and +Sinfiotli to the other, and now the Goth-folk awoke to their last +of days. + +Then cried Siggeir to his thralls and offered them joyous life-days +and plenteous wealth if they would give him life, deeming that they +had fired the hall in hatred. But there came a great voice crying +from the door, "Nay, no toilers are we; wealth is ours when we list, +but now our hearts are set to avenge our kin; now hath the murder +seed sprung and borne its fruit; now the death-doomed and buried work +this deed; now doom draweth nigh thee at the hand of Sigmund the +Volsung, and Sinfiotli, Signy's son." + +Then the voice cried again, "Come ye forth, women of the Goths, and +thou, O Signy, my sister, come forth to seek the boughs of the +Branstock." So fled the white-faced women from the fire, and passed +scatheless by Sinfiotli's blade, but Signy came not at all. Then the +earls of Siggeir strove to burst from the hall, but ever the two +glaives at the doorways drove them back to the fire. + +And, lo, now came Signy in queenly raiment, and stood before Sinfiotli +and said, "O mightiest son, this is the hour of our parting, and fain +am I of slumber and the end of my toil now I have seen this day. And +the blither do I leave thee because thy days on earth shall be but +few; I charge thee make thy life glorious, and leave a goodly tale." + +She kissed him and turned to Sigmund, and her face in the dawn-light +seemed to him fair and ruddy as in the days when they twain dwelt by +the Branstock. And she said, "My youth was happy, yet this hour is +the crown of my life-days which draw nigh their ending. And now I +charge thee, Sigmund, when thou sittest once more a mighty king +beneath the boughs of the Branstock, that thou remember how I loved +the Volsung name, and spared not to spend all that was mine for its +blossoming." Then she kissed him and turned again, and the dawn +brightened at her back, and the fire shone red before her, and so for +the last time was Signy beheld by the eyes of men. Thereafter King +Siggeir's roof-tree bowed earthward, and the mighty walls crashed +down, and so that dark murder-hall lay wasted, and its glory was +swept away. + + +_How Sigmund cometh to the Land of the Volsungs again, and of the +death of Sinfiotli his Son._ + + Now Sigmund the king bestirs him, and Sinfiotli, Sigmund's son, + And they gather a host together, and many a mighty one; + Then they set the ships in the sea-flood and sail from the stranger's shore, + And the beaks of the golden dragons see the Volsungs' land once more; + And men's hearts are fulfilled of joyance; and they cry, The sun shines now + With never a curse to hide it, and they shall reap that sow! + Then for many a day sits Sigmund 'neath the boughs of the Branstock green, + With his earls and lords about him as the Volsung wont hath been. + And oft he thinketh on Signy and oft he nameth her name, + And tells how she spent her joyance and her life-days and her fame + That the Volsung kin might blossom and bear the fruit of worth + For the hope of unborn people and the harvest of the earth. + And again he thinks of the word that he spake that other day, + How he should abide there lonely when his kin was passed away, + Their glory and sole avenger, their after-summer seed. + +But far and wide went Sinfiotli through the earth, mowing the war +swathe and wasting the land, and passing but little time in song and +laughter in his father's hall. So went his days in warfare and valour, +and yet his end was not glorious, for he drank of the poisoned cup +given him by the sister of a warrior he had rightly slain. + +None might come nigh Sigmund in his anguish as he lifted the head of +his fallen foster-child, and then swiftly bare him from the hall. On +he went through dark thicket and over wind-swept heath, past the +foot-hills and the homes of the deer, till he came to a great rushing +water, whereon was a white-sailed boat, manned by a mighty man, +"one-eyed and seeming ancient." This mighty one told Sigmund he had +been bidden to waft a great king over the water, and bade him lay his +burden on board, but when Sigmund would have followed he could see +neither ship nor man. + +But Sigmund went back to his throne, and behaved himself as a king, +listening to his people's plaints, and dealing out justice. + + +_Of the last battle of King Sigmund, and the death of him._ + + Now there was a king of the Islands, whom the tale doth Eylimi call, + And saith he was wise and valiant, though his kingdom were but small: + He had one only daughter that Hiordis had to name, + A woman wise and shapely beyond the praise of fame. + And now saith the son of King Volsung that his time is short enow + To labour the Volsung garden, and the hand must be set to the plough: + So he sendeth an earl of the people to King Eylimi's high-built hall, + Bearing the gifts and the tokens, and this word in his mouth withal: + + "King Sigmund the son of Volsung hath sent me here with a word + That plenteous good of thy daughter among all folk he hath heard, + And he wooeth that wisest of women that she may sit on his throne. + + * * * * * + + "Now hereof would he have an answer within a half-month's space, + And these gifts meanwhile he giveth for the increase of thy grace." + + So King Eylimi hearkened the message, and hath no word to say, + For an earl of King Lyngi the mighty is come that very day, + He too for the wooing of Hiordis: and Lyngi's realm is at hand, + But afar King Sigmund abideth o'er many a sea and land: + And the man is young and eager, and grim and guileful of mood. + + At last he sayeth: "Abide here such space as thou deemest good, + But tomorn shalt thou have thine answer that thine heart may the lighter be, + For the hearkening of harp and songcraft, and the dealing with game and + glee." + Then he went to Queen Hiordis' bower, where she worked in the silk and the + gold + The deeds of the world that should be, and the deeds that were of old. + And he stood before her and said: + +"Often have I told thee that thou shouldst wed only the man thou +wouldst. Now it hath come to pass that two kings desire thee." + +And she swiftly rose to her feet as she said, "And which be they?" + + He spake: "The first is Lyngi, a valiant man and a fair, + A neighbour ill for thy father, if a foe's name he must bear: + And the next is King Sigmund the Volsung of a land far over sea, + And well thou knowest his kindred, and his might and his valiancy, + And the tales of his heart of a God; and though old he be waxen now, + Yet men deem that the wide world's blossom from Sigmund's loins shall grow." + + Said Hiordis: "I wot, my father, that hereof may strife arise; + Yet soon spoken is mine answer; for I, who am called the wise, + Shall I thrust by the praise of the people, and the tale that no ending + hath, + And the love and the heart of the godlike, and the heavenward-leading path, + For the rose and the stem of the lily, and the smooth-lipped youngling's + kiss, + And the eyes' desire that passeth, and the frail unstable bliss? + Now shalt thou tell King Sigmund, that I deem it the crown of my life + To dwell in the house of his fathers amidst all peace and strife." + + * * * * * + + Now the king's heart sore misgave him, but herewith must he be content, + And great gifts to the earl of Lyngi and a word withal he sent, + That the woman's troth was plighted to another people's king. + But King Sigmund's earl on the morrow hath joyful yea-saying, + And ere two moons be perished he shall fetch his bride away. + "And bid him," King Eylimi sayeth, "to come with no small array, + But with sword and shield and war-shaft, lest aught of ill betide." + + So forth goes the earl of Sigmund across the sea-flood wide, + And comes to the land of the Volsungs, and meeteth Sigmund the king, + And tells how he sped on his errand, and the joyful yea-saying. + So King Sigmund maketh him ready, and they ride adown to the sea + All glorious of gear and raiment, and a goodly company. + Yet hath Sigmund thought of his father, and the deed he wrought before, + And hath scorn to gather his people and all his hosts of war + To wend to the feast and the wedding: yet are their long-ships ten, + And the shielded folk aboard them are the mightiest men of men. + So Sigmund goeth a shipboard, and they hoist their sails to the wind, + And the beaks of the golden dragons leave the Volsungs' land behind. + Then come they to Eylimi's kingdom, and good welcome have they there, + And when Sigmund looked on Hiordis, he deemed her wise and fair. + But her heart was exceeding fain when she saw the glorious king, + And it told her of times that should be full many a noble thing. + + So there is Sigmund wedded at a great and goodly feast, + And day by day on Hiordis the joy of her heart increased; + And her father joyed in Sigmund and his might and majesty, + And dead in the heart of the Isle-king his ancient fear did lie. + + Yet, forsooth, had men looked seaward, they had seen the gathering cloud, + And the little wind arising, that should one day pipe so loud. + For well may ye wot indeed that King Lyngi the Mighty is wroth, + When he getteth the gifts and the answer, and that tale of the woman's + troth: + And he saith he will have the gifts and the woman herself withal, + Either for loving or hating, and that both those heads shall fall. + So now when Sigmund and Hiordis are wedded a month or more, + And the Volsung bids men dight them to cross the sea-flood o'er, + Lo, how there cometh the tidings of measureless mighty hosts + Who are gotten ashore from their long-ships on the skirts of King Eylimi's + coasts. + + Sore boded the heart of the Isle-king of what the end should be. + But Sigmund long beheld him, and he said: "Thou deem'st of me + That my coming hath brought thee evil; but put aside such things; + For long have I lived, and I know it, that the lives of mighty kings + Are not cast away, nor drifted like the down before the wind; + And surely I know, who say it, that never would Hiordis' mind + Have been turned to wed King Lyngi or aught but the Volsung seed. + Come, go we forth to the battle, that shall be the latest deed + Of thee and me meseemeth: yea, whether thou live or die, + No more shall the brand of Odin at peace in his scabbard lie." + + And therewith he brake the peace-strings and drew the blade of bale, + And Death on the point abided, Fear sat on the edges pale. + + So men ride adown to the sea-strand, and the kings their hosts array + When the high noon flooded heaven; and the men of the Volsungs lay, + With King Eylimi's shielded champions mid Lyngi's hosts of war, + As the brown pips lie in the apple when ye cut it through the core. + + But now when the kings were departed, from the King's house Hiordis went, + And before men joined the battle she came to a woody bent, + Where she lay with one of her maidens the death and the deeds to behold. + + In the noon sun shone King Sigmund as an image all of gold, + And he stood before the foremost and the banner of his fame, + And many a thing he remembered, and he called on each earl by his name + To do well for the house of the Volsungs, and the ages yet unborn. + Then he tossed up the sword of the Branstock, and blew on his father's horn, + Dread of so many a battle, doom-song of so many a man. + Then all the earth seemed moving as the hosts of Lyngi ran + On the Volsung men and the Isle-folk like wolves upon the prey; + But sore was their labour and toil ere the end of their harvesting day. + + On went the Volsung banners, and on went Sigmund before, + And his sword was the flail of the tiller on the wheat of the + wheat-thrashing floor, + And his shield was rent from his arm, and his helm was sheared from his + head: + But who may draw nigh him to smite for the heap and the rampart of dead? + White went his hair on the wind like the ragged drift of the cloud, + And his dust-driven, blood-beaten harness was the death-storm's angry + shroud, + When the summer sun is departing in the first of the night of wrack; + And his sword was the cleaving lightning, that smites and is hurried aback + Ere the hand may rise against it; and his voice was the following thunder. + + Then cold grew the battle before him, dead-chilled with the fear and the + wonder: + For again in his ancient eyes the light of victory gleamed; + From his mouth grown tuneful and sweet the song of his kindred streamed; + And no more was he worn and weary, and no more his life seemed spent: + And with all the hope of his childhood was his wrath of battle blent; + And he thought: A little further, and the river of strife is passed, + And I shall sit triumphant the king of the world at last. + + But lo, through the hedge of the war-shafts a mighty man there came, + One-eyed and seeming ancient, but his visage shone like flame: + Gleaming-grey was his kirtle, and his hood was cloudy blue; + And he bore a mighty twi-bill, as he waded the fight-sheaves through, + And stood face to face with Sigmund, and upheaved the bill to smite. + Once more round the head of the Volsung fierce glittered the Branstock's + light, + The sword that came from Odin; and Sigmund's cry once more + Rang out to the very heavens above the din of war. + Then clashed the meeting edges with Sigmund's latest stroke, + And in shivering shards fell earthward that fear of worldly folk. + But changed were the eyes of Sigmund, and the war-wrath left his face; + For that grey-clad mighty helper was gone, and in his place + Drave on the unbroken spear-wood 'gainst the Volsung's empty hands: + And there they smote down Sigmund, the wonder of all lands, + On the foemen, on the death-heap his deeds had piled that day. + + Ill hour for Sigmund's fellows! they fall like the seeded hay + Before the brown scythes' sweeping, and there the Isle-king fell + In the fore-front of his battle, wherein he wrought right well, + And soon they were nought but foemen who stand upon their feet + On the isle-strand by the ocean where the grass and the sea-sand meet. + + And now hath the conquering War-king another deed to do, + And he saith: "Who now gainsayeth King Lyngi come to woo, + The lord and the overcomer and the bane of the Volsung kin?" + So he fares to the Isle-king's dwelling a wife of the kings to win; + And the host is gathered together, and they leave the field of the dead; + And round as a targe of the Goth-folk the moon ariseth red. + + And so when the last is departed, and she deems they will come not aback, + Fares Hiordis forth from the thicket to the field of the fateful wrack, + And half-dead was her heart for sorrow as she waded the swathes of the + sword. + Not far did she search the death-field ere she found her king and lord + On the heap that his glaive had fashioned: not yet was his spirit past, + Though his hurts were many and grievous, and his life-blood ebbing fast; + And glad were his eyes and open as her wan face over him hung, + And he spake: + "Thou art sick with sorrow, and I would thou wert not so young; + Yet as my days passed shall thine pass; and a short while now it seems + Since my hand first gripped the sword-hilt, and my glory was but in dreams." + + She said: "Thou livest, thou livest! the leeches shall heal thee still." + + "Nay," said he, "my heart hath hearkened to Odin's bidding and will; + For today have mine eyes beheld him: nay, he needed not to speak: + Forsooth I knew of his message and the thing he came to seek. + And now do I live but to tell thee of the days that are yet to come: + And perchance to solace thy sorrow; and then will I get me home + To my kin that are gone before me. Lo, yonder where I stood + The shards of a glaive of battle that was once the best of the good: + Take them and keep them surely. I have lived no empty days; + The Norns were my nursing mothers; I have won the people's praise. + When the Gods for one deed asked me I ever gave them twain; + Spendthrift of glory I was, and great was my life-days' gain; + Now these shards have been my fellow in the work the Gods would have, + But today hath Odin taken the gift that once he gave. + I have wrought for the Volsungs truly, and yet have I known full well + That a better one than I am shall bear the tale to tell: + And for him shall these shards be smithied; and he shall be my son + To remember what I have forgotten and to do what I left undone." + + * * * * * + + Then failed the voice of Sigmund; but so mighty was the man, + That a long while yet he lingered till the dusky night grew wan, + And she sat and sorrowed o'er him, but no more a word he spake. + Then a long way over the sea-flood the day began to break; + And when the sun was arisen a little he turned his head + Till the low beams bathed his eyen, and there lay Sigmund dead. + And the sun rose up on the earth; but where was the Volsung kin + And the folk that the Gods had begotten the praise of all people to win? + + +_How King Sigmund the Volsung was laid in mound on the sea-side +of the Isle-realm._ + + Now Hiordis looked from the dead, and her eyes strayed down to the sea, + And a shielded ship she saw, and a war-dight company, + Who beached the ship for the landing: so swift she fled away, + And once more to the depth of the thicket, wherein her handmaid lay: + And she said: "I have left my lord, and my lord is dead and gone, + And he gave me a charge full heavy, and here are we twain alone, + And earls from the sea are landing: give me thy blue attire, + And take my purple and gold and my crown of the sea-flood's fire, + And be thou the wife of King Volsung when men of our names shall ask, + And I will be the handmaid: now I bid thee to this task, + And I pray thee not to fail me, because of thy faith and truth, + And because I have ever loved thee, and thy mother fostered my youth." + + * * * * * + + So the other nought gainsaith it and they shift their raiment there: + But well-spoken was the maiden, and a woman tall and fair. + + Now the lord of those new-coming men was a king and the son of a king, + King Elf the son of the Helper, and he sailed from warfaring + And drew anigh to the Isle-realm and sailed along the strand; + For the shipmen needed water and fain would go a-land; + And King Elf stood hard by the tiller while the world was yet a-cold: + Then the red sun lit the dawning, and they looked, and lo, behold! + The wrack of a mighty battle, and heaps of the shielded dead, + And a woman alive amidst them, a queen with crowned head, + And her eyes strayed down to the sea-strand, and she saw that weaponed folk, + And turned and fled to the thicket: then the lord of the shipmen spoke: + "Lo, here shall we lack for water, for the brooks with blood shall run, + Yet wend we ashore to behold it and to wot of the deeds late done." + + So they turned their faces to Sigmund, and waded the swathes of the sword. + "O, look ye long," said the Sea-king, "for here lieth a mighty lord: + And all these are the deeds of his war-flame, yet hardy hearts, be sure, + That they once durst look in his face or the wrath of his eyen endure; + Though his lips be glad and smiling as a God that dreameth of mirth. + Would God I were one of his kindred, for none such are left upon earth. + Now fare we into the thicket, for thereto is the woman fled, + And belike she shall tell us the story of this field of the mighty dead." + + So they wend and find the women, and bespeak them kind and fair: + Then spake the gold-crowned handmaid: "Of the Isle-king's house we were, + And I am the Queen called Hiordis; and the man that lies on the field + Was mine own lord Sigmund the Volsung, the mightiest under shield." + + Then all amazed were the sea-folk when they hearkened to that word, + And great and heavy tidings they deem their ears have heard: + But again spake out the Sea-king: "And this blue-clad one beside, + So pale, and as tall as a Goddess, and white and lovely eyed?" + + "In sooth and in troth," said the woman, "my serving-maid is this; + She hath wept long over the battle, and sore afraid she is." + + Now the king looks hard upon her, but he saith no word thereto, + And down again to the death-field with the women-folk they go. + There they set their hands to the labour, and amidst the deadly mead + They raise a mound for Sigmund, a mighty house indeed; + And therein they set that folk-king, and goodly was his throne, + And dight with gold and scarlet: and the walls of the house were done + With the cloven shields of the foemen, and banners borne to field; + But none might find his war-helm or the splinters of his shield, + And clenched and fast was his right hand, but no sword therein he had: + For Hiordis spake to the shipmen: + "Our lord and master bade + That the shards of his glaive of battle should go with our lady the Queen: + And by them that lie a-dying a many things are seen." + + +_How Queen Hiordis is known; and how she abideth in the house of +Elf the son of the Helper._ + +Then Elf asked of the two women where they would go, and they prayed +that he would take them to his land, where they dwelt for long in all +honour. + +But the old queen, the mother of Elf, was indeed a woman wise above +many, and fain would she know why the less noble of the two was +dressed the more richly and why the handmaid gave always wiser +counsel than her mistress. So she bade her son to speak suddenly and +to take them unawares. + +Then he asked the gold-clad one how she knew in the dark winter night +that the dawn was near. She answered that ever in her youth she awoke +at the dawn to follow her daily work, and always was she wont to +drink of whey, and now, though the times were changed, she still woke +athirst near the dawning. + +To Elf it seemed strange that a fair queen in her youth had need to +arise to follow the plough in the dark of the winter morning, and +turning to the handmaid he asked of her the same question. She +replied that in her youth her father had given her the gold ring she +still wore, and which had the magic power of growing cold as the +hours neared daybreak, and such was her dawning sign. + +Then did Elf know of their exchange, and he told Hiordis that long +had he loved her and felt pity for her sorrow, and that he would make +her his wife. So that night she sat on the high-seat with the crown +on her head, and dreamt of what had been and what was to be. + + So passeth the summer season, and the harvest of the year, + And the latter days of the winter on toward the springtide wear. + + + + +BOOK II. + +REGIN. + + +_Of the birth of Sigurd the son of Sigmund._ + + + Peace lay on the land of the Helper and the house of Elf his son; + There merry men went bedward when their tide of toil was done, + And glad was the dawn's awakening, and the noontide fair and glad: + There no great store had the franklin, and enough the hireling had; + And a child might go unguarded the length and breadth of the land + With a purse of gold at his girdle and gold rings on his hand. + 'Twas a country of cunning craftsmen, and many a thing they wrought, + That the lands of storm desired, and the homes of warfare sought. + But men deemed it o'er-well warded by more than its stems of fight, + And told how its earth-born watchers yet lived of plenteous might. + So hidden was that country, and few men sailed its sea, + And none came o'er its mountains of men-folk's company. + But fair-fruited, many-peopled, it lies a goodly strip, + 'Twixt the mountains cloudy-headed and the sea-flood's surging lip, + And a perilous flood is its ocean, and its mountains, who shall tell + What things, in their dales deserted and their wind-swept heaths may dwell. + + * * * * * + + Again, in the house of the Helper there dwelt a certain man + Beardless and low of stature, of visage pinched and wan: + So exceeding old was Regin, that no son of man could tell + In what year of the days passed over he came to that land to dwell: + But the youth of King Elf had he fostered, and the Helper's youth thereto, + Yea and his father's father's: the lore of all men he knew, + And was deft in every cunning, save the dealings of the sword: + So sweet was his tongue-speech fashioned, that men trowed his every word; + His hand with the harp-strings blended was the mingler of delight + With the latter days of sorrow; all tales he told aright; + The Master of the Masters in the smithying craft was he; + And he dealt with the wind and the weather and the stilling of the sea; + Nor might any learn him leech-craft, for before that race was made, + And that man-folk's generation, all their life-days had he weighed. + +In this land of the Helper and Elf, his son, dwelt Hiordis, and here +her son, the last of the Volsungs, was born. The babe had eyes of +such wondrous brightness that the folk shrank from him, while they +rejoiced over his birth, but his mother spake to the babe as to one +who might understand, and she told him of Sigmund and Volsung, of +their wars and their troubles and their joys. Then she gave him to +her maids to bear him to the kings of the land that they might +rejoice with her. + + But there sat the Helper of Men with King Elf and his Earls in the hall, + And they spake of the deeds that had been, and told of the times to befall, + And they hearkened and heard sweet voices and the sound of harps draw nigh, + Till their hearts were exceeding merry and they knew not wherefore or why: + Then, lo, in the hall white raiment, as thither the damsels came, + And amid the hands of the foremost was the woven gold aflame. + + "O daughters of earls," said the Helper, "what tidings then do ye bear? + Is it grief in the merry morning, or joy or wonder or fear?" + + Quoth the first: "It is grief for the foemen that the Masters of God-home + would grieve." + + Said the next: "'Tis a wonder of wonders, that the hearkening world shall + believe." + + "A fear of all fears," said the third, "for the sword is uplifted on men." + + "A joy of all joys," said the fourth, "once come, and it comes not again!" + + * * * * * + + "What then hath betid," said King Elf, "do the high Gods stand in our gate?" + + "Nay," said they, "else were we silent, and they should be telling of fate." + + "Is the bidding come," said the Helper, "that we wend the Gods to see?" + + "Many summers and winters," they said, "ye shall live on the earth, it may + be." + + * * * * * + + "Speak then," said the ancient Helper, "let the worst and the best be said." + + * * * * * + + They said: "The earth is weary: but the tender blade hath sprung, + That shall wax till beneath its branches fair bloom the meadows green; + For the Gods and they that were mighty were glad erewhile with the Queen." + + Said King Elf: "How say ye, women? Of a King new-born do ye tell, + By a God of the Heavens begotten in our fathers' house to dwell?" + + "By a God of the Earth," they answered; "but greater yet is the son, + Though long were the days of Sigmund, and great are the deeds he hath done." + + Then she with the golden burden to the kingly high-seat stepped + And away from the new-born baby the purple cloths she swept, + And cried: "O King of the people, long mayst thou live in bliss, + As our hearts today are happy! Queen Hiordis sends thee this, + And she saith that the world shall call it by the name that thou shalt name; + Now the gift to thee is given, and to thee is brought the fame." + + Then e'en as a man astonied King Elf the Volsung took, + While his feast-hall's ancient timbers with the cry of the earl-folk shook; + + * * * * * + + With the love of many peoples was the wise king smitten through, + As he hung o'er the new-born Volsung: but at last he raised his head, + And looked forth kind o'er his people, and spake aloud and said: + + "O Sigmund King of Battle; O man of many days, + Whom I saw mid the shields of the fallen and the dead men's silent praise, + Lo, how hath the dark tide perished and the dawn of day begun! + And now, O mighty Sigmund, wherewith shall we name thy son?" + + But there rose up a man most ancient, and he cried: "Hail Dawn of the Day! + How many things shalt thou quicken, how many shalt thou slay! + How many things shalt thou waken, how many lull to sleep! + How many things shalt thou scatter, how many gather and keep! + O me, how thy love shall cherish, how thine hate shall wither and burn! + How the hope shall be sped from thy right hand, nor the fear to thy left + return! + O thy deeds that men shall sing of! O thy deeds that the Gods shall see! + O SIGURD, Son of the Volsungs, O Victory yet to be!" + + Men heard the name and they knew it, and they caught it up in the air, + And it went abroad by the windows and the doors of the feast-hall fair, + It went through street and market; o'er meadow and acre it went, + And over the wind-stirred forest and the dearth of the sea-beat bent, + And over the sea-flood's welter, till the folk of the fishers heard, + And the hearts of the isle-abiders on the sun-scorched rocks were stirred. + + * * * * * + + +_Sigurd getteth to him the horse that is called Greyfell._ + + Now waxeth the son of Sigmund in might and goodliness, + And soft the days win over, and all men his beauty bless. + But amidst the summer season was the Isle-queen Hiordis wed + To King Elf the son of the Helper, and fair their life-days sped. + Peace lay on the land for ever, and the fields gave good increase, + And there was Sigurd waxing mid the plenty and the peace. + Now hath the child grown greater, and is keen and eager of wit + And full of understanding, and oft hath he joy to sit + Amid talk of weighty matters when the wise men meet for speech; + And joyous he is moreover and blithe and kind with each. + But Regin the wise craftsmaster heedeth the youngling well, + And before the Kings he cometh, and saith such words to tell. + + "I have fostered thy youth, King Elf, and thine O Helper of men, + And ye wot that such a master no king shall see again; + And now would I foster Sigurd; for, though he be none of thy blood, + Mine heart of his days that shall be speaketh abundant good." + + Then spake the Helper of men-folk: "Yea, do herein thy will: + For thou art the Master of Masters, and hast learned me all my skill: + But think how bright is this youngling, and thy guile from him withhold; + For this craft of thine hath shown me that thy heart is grim and cold, + Though three men's lives thrice over thy wisdom might not learn; + And I love this son of Sigmund, and mine heart to him doth yearn." + + Then Regin laughed, and answered: "I doled out cunning to thee; + But nought with him will I measure: yet no cold-heart shall he be, + Nor grim, nor evil-natured: for whate'er my will might frame, + Gone forth is the word of the Norns, that abideth ever the same. + And now, despite my cunning, how deem ye I shall die?" + + And they said he would live as he listed, and at last in peace should lie + When he listed to live no longer; so mighty and wise he was. + + But again he laughed and answered: "One day it shall come to pass, + That a beardless youth shall slay me: I know the fateful doom; + But nought may I withstand it, as it heaves up dim through the gloom." + + So is Sigurd now with Regin, and he learns him many things; + Yea, all save the craft of battle, that men learned the sons of kings: + The smithying sword and war-coat; the carving runes aright; + The tongues of many countries, and soft speech for men's delight; + The dealing with the harp-strings, and the winding ways of song. + So wise of heart waxed Sigurd, and of body wondrous strong: + And he chased the deer of the forest, and many a wood-wolf slew, + And many a bull of the mountains: and the desert dales he knew, + And the heaths that the wind sweeps over; and seaward would he fare, + Far out from the outer skerries, and alone the sea-wights dare. + +One day did Regin tell Sigurd of deeds done in the past by kings both +bold and wise, and the lad longed, too, to do the like, and his +bright eyes glowed with desire. And Regin told him that he should +follow his Volsung fathers and roam far and wide, leaving the +peace-lovers and home-abiders who had cherished his youth. + +This roused Sigurd's wrath, for he would have nought said against +those who had reared him, but Regin bade him ask for one of the +horses of Gripir, and banished his anger by a song of the deeds of +the Choosers of the Slain. Before the song was finished Sigurd went +to King Elf and asked that he might have authority to seek a horse +from King Gripir. + + Then smiled King Elf, and answered: "A long way wilt thou ride, + To where unpeace and troubles and the griefs of the soul abide, + Yea unto the death at the last: yet surely shall thou win + The praise of many a people: so have thy way herein. + Forsooth no more may we hold thee than the hazel copse may hold + The sun of the early dawning, that turneth it all unto gold." + + Then sweetly Sigurd thanked them; and through the night he lay + Mid dreams of many a matter till the dawn was on the way; + Then he shook the sleep from off him, and that dwelling of Kings he left + And wended his ways unto Gripir. On a crag from the mountain reft + Was the house of the old King builded; and a mighty house it was, + Though few were the sons of men that over its threshold would pass: + But the wild ernes cried about it, and the vultures toward it flew, + And the winds from the heart of the mountains searched every chamber + through, + And about were meads wide-spreading; and many a beast thereon, + Yea some that are men-folk's terror, their sport and pasture won. + + So into the hall went Sigurd; and amidst was Gripir set + In a chair of the sea-beast's tooth; and his sweeping beard nigh met + The floor that was green as the ocean, and his gown was of mountain-gold, + And the kingly staff in his hand was knobbed with the crystal cold. + + Now the first of the twain spake Gripir: "Hail King with the eyen bright! + Nought needest thou show the token, for I know of thy life and thy light. + And no need to tell of thy message; it was wafted here on the wind, + That thou wouldst be coming today a horse in my meadow to find: + And strong must he be for the bearing of those deeds of thine that shall be. + Now choose thou of all the way-wearers that are running loose in my lea." + + * * * * * + + Then again gat Sigurd outward, and adown the steep he ran + And unto the horse-fed meadow: but lo, a grey-clad man, + One-eyed and seeming ancient, there met him by the way: + And he spake: "Thou hastest, Sigurd; yet tarry till I say + A word that shall well bestead thee: for I know of these mountains well + And all the lea of Gripir, and the beasts that thereon dwell." + + "Wouldst thou have red gold for thy tidings? art thou Gripir's horse-herd + then? + Nay sure, for thy face is shining like the battle-eager men + My master Regin tells of: and I love thy cloud-grey gown, + And thy visage gleams above it like a thing my dreams have known." + + "Nay whiles have I heeded the horse-kind," then spake that elder of days, + "And sooth do the sages say, when the beasts of my breeding they praise. + There is one thereof in the meadow, and, wouldst thou cull him out, + Thou shalt follow an elder's counsel, who hath brought strange things about, + Who hath known thy father aforetime, and other kings of thy kin." + + So Sigurd said, "I am ready; and what is the deed to win?" + He said: "We shall drive the horses adown to the water-side, + That cometh forth from the mountains, and note what next shall betide." + + Then the twain sped on together, and they drave the horses on + Till they came to a rushing river, a water wide and wan; + And the white mews hovered o'er it; but none might hear their cry + For the rush and the rattle of waters, as the downlong flood swept by. + So the whole herd took the river and strove the stream to stem, + And many a brave steed was there; but the flood o'ermastered them: + And some, it swept them down-ward, and some won back to bank, + Some, caught by the net of the eddies, in the swirling hubbub sank; + But one of all swam over, and they saw his mane of grey + Toss over the flowery meadows, a bright thing far away: + Wide then he wheeled about them, then took the stream again + And with the waves' white horses mingled his cloudy mane. + + Then spake the elder of days: "Hearken now, Sigurd, and hear; + Time was when I gave thy father a gift thou shalt yet deem dear, + And this horse is a gift of my giving:--heed nought where thou mayst ride: + For I have seen thy fathers in a shining house abide, + And on earth they thought of its threshold, and the gifts I had to give; + Nor prayed for a little longer, and a little longer to live." + + Then forth he strode to the mountains, and fain was Sigurd now. + To ask him many a matter: but dim did his bright shape grow, + As a man from the litten doorway fades into the dusk of night; + And the sun in the high-noon shone, and the world was exceeding bright. + + So Sigurd turned to the river and stood by the wave-wet strand, + And the grey horse swims to his feet and lightly leaps aland, + And the youngling looks upon him, and deems none beside him good. + And indeed, as tells the story, he was come of Sleipnir's blood, + The tireless horse of Odin: cloud-grey he was of hue, + And it seemed as Sigurd backed him that Sigmund's son he knew, + So glad he went beneath him. Then the youngling's song arose + As he brushed through the noontide blossoms of Gripir's mighty close, + Then he singeth the song of Greyfell, the horse that Odin gave, + Who swam through the sweeping river, and back through the toppling wave. + + +_Regin telleth Sigurd of his kindred, and of the Gold that was +accursed from ancient days._ + + Now yet the days pass over, and more than words may tell + Grows Sigurd strong and lovely, and all children love him well. + But oft he looks on the mountains and many a time is fain + To know of what lies beyond them, and learn of the wide world's gain. + + * * * * * + + Now again it happed on a day that he sat in Regin's hall + And hearkened many tidings of what had chanced to fall, + And of kings that sought their kingdoms o'er many a waste and wild, + And at last saith the crafty master: + "Thou art King Sigmund's child: + Wilt thou wait till these kings of the carles shall die in a little land, + Or wilt thou serve their sons and carry the cup to their hand; + Or abide in vain for the day that never shall come about, + When their banners shall dance in the wind and shake to the war-gods' + shout?" + + Then Sigurd answered and said: "Nought such do I look to be. + But thou, a deedless man, too much thou eggest me: + And these folk are good and trusty, and the land is lovely and sweet, + And in rest and in peace it lieth as the floor of Odin's feet: + Yet I know that the world is wide, and filled with deeds unwrought; + And for e'en such work was I fashioned, lest the songcraft come to nought." + + * * * * * + + Then answered Regin the guileful: "The deed is ready to hand, + Yet holding my peace is the best, for well thou lovest the land; + And thou lovest thy life moreover, and the peace of thy youthful days, + And why should the full-fed feaster his hand to the rye-bread raise? + Yet they say that Sigmund begat thee and he looked to fashion a man. + Fear nought; he lieth quiet in his mound by the sea-waves wan." + + So shone the eyes of Sigurd, that the shield against him hung + Cast back their light as the sunbeams; but his voice to the roof-tree rung: + "Tell me, thou Master of Masters, what deed is the deed I shall do? + Nor mock thou the son of Sigmund lest the day of his birth thou rue." + + Then answered the Master of Sleight: "The deed is the righting of wrong, + And the quelling a bale and a sorrow that the world hath endured o'erlong, + And the winning a treasure untold, that shall make thee more than the kings; + Thereof is the Helm of Aweing, the wonder of earthly things, + And thereof is its very fellow, the War-Coat all of gold, + That has not its like in the heavens, nor has earth of its fellow told." + + Then answered Sigurd the Volsung: "How long hereof hast thou known? + And what unto thee is this treasure, that thou seemest to give as thine + own?" + + "Alas!" quoth the smithying master, "it is mine, yet none of mine, + Since my heart herein avails not, and my hand is frail and fine-- + It is long since I first came hither to seek a man for my need; + For I saw by a glimmering light that hence would spring the deed, + And many a deed of the world: but the generations passed, + And the first of the days was as near to the end that I sought as the last; + Till I looked on thine eyes in the cradle: and now I deem through thee, + That the end of my days of waiting, and the end of my woes shall be." + + Then Sigurd awhile was silent; but at last he answered and said: + "Thou shalt have thy will and the treasure, and shalt take the curse on + thine head + If a curse the gold enwrappeth: but the deed will I surely do, + For today the dreams of my childhood hath bloomed in my heart anew: + And I long to look on the world and the glory of the earth + And to deal in the dealings of men, and garner the harvest of worth. + But tell me, thou Master of Masters, where lieth this measureless wealth; + Is it guarded by swords of the earl-folk, or kept by cunning and stealth? + Is it over the main sea's darkness, or beyond the mountain wall? + Or e'en in these peaceful acres anigh to the hands of all?" + + Then Regin answered sweetly: "Hereof must a tale be told: + Bide sitting, thou son of Sigmund, on the heap of unwrought gold, + And hearken of wondrous matters, and of things unheard, unsaid, + And deeds of my beholding ere the first of Kings was made. + + "And first ye shall know of a sooth, that I never was born of the race + Which the masters of God-home have made to cover the fair earth's face; + But I come of the Dwarfs departed; and fair was the earth whileome + Ere the short-lived thralls of the Gods amidst its dales were come. + + * * * * * + + "It was Reidmar the Ancient begat me; and now was he waxen old, + And a covetous man and a king; and he bade, and I built him a hall, + And a golden glorious house; and thereto his sons did he call, + And he bade them be evil and wise, that his will through them might be + wrought. + Then he gave unto Fafnir my brother the soul that feareth nought, + And the brow of the hardened iron, and the hand that may never fail, + And the greedy heart of a king, and the ear that hears no wail. + + "But next unto Otter my brother he gave the snare and the net, + And the longing to wend through the wild-wood, and wade the highways wet: + And the foot that never resteth, while aught be left alive + That hath cunning to match man's cunning or might with his might to strive. + + "And to me, the least and the youngest, what gift for the slaying of ease? + Save the grief that remembers the past, and the fear that the future sees; + And the hammer and fashioning-iron, and the living coal of fire; + And the craft that createth a semblance, and fails of the heart's desire; + And the toil that each dawning quickens and the task that is never done; + And the heart that longeth ever, nor will look to the deed that is won. + + "Thus gave my father the gifts that might never be taken again; + Far worse were we now than the Gods, and but little better than men. + But yet of our ancient might one thing had we left us still: + We had craft to change our semblance, and could shift us at our will + Into bodies of the beast-kind, or fowl, or fishes cold; + + * * * * * + + "So dwelt we, brethren and father; and Fafnir my brother fared + As the scourge and compeller of all things, and left no wrong undared; + But for me, I toiled and I toiled; and fair grew my father's house; + But writhen and foul were the hands that had made it glorious; + + * * * * * + + "And myself a little fragment amidst it all I saw, + Grim, cold-hearted, and unmighty as the tempest-driven straw. + --Let be.--For Otter my brother saw seldom field or fold, + And he oftenest used that custom, whereof e'en now I told, + And would shift his shape with the wood-beasts and the things of land and + sea; + And he knew what joy their hearts had, and what they longed to be, + And their dim-eyed understanding, and his wood-craft waxed so great, + That he seemed the king of the creatures and their very mortal fate. + + "Now as the years won over three folk of the heavenly halls + Grew aweary of sleepless sloth, and the day that nought befalls; + And they fain would look on the earth, and their latest handiwork, + And turn the fine gold over, lest a flaw therein should lurk. + And the three were the heart-wise Odin, the Father of the Slain, + And Loki, the World's Begrudger, who maketh all labour vain, + And Hoenir, the Utter-Blameless, who wrought the hope of man, + And his heart and inmost yearnings, when first the work began;--" + +The three wandered over the earth till they came to a mighty river, +haunted for long by Otter, by reason of its great wealth of fish. +There he lay on the bank, and as he watched the fish in the water his +shape was changed to that of a true otter, and he began to devour a +golden trout. Two of the gods would have passed without stay, but in +the otter Loki saw an enemy, and straightway killed him, rejoicing +over his dead body. + +As night fell the three gods came to a great hall, wondrously wrought +and carved, with golden hangings and forests of pillars. In the midst +of the hall sat a king on an ivory throne, and his garments were made +of purple from the sea. Kind welcome he gave to the wanderers, and +there they feasted and delighted in music and song; but even as they +drank and made merry they knew they were caught in the snare. + +The king's welcome changed to scornful laughter, and thus he spoke: +"Truly are ye gods, but ye are come to people who want you not. Before +ye were known to us, still was the winter cold, and the summer warm, +and still could we find meat and drink. I am Reidmar, and ye come +straight from the slaying of Reidmar's son. Shall I not then take the +vengeance I will? Unless, indeed, ye give me the treasure I covet, and +then shall ye go your way. This is my sentence. Choose ye which ye +will." + +Then spake the wise Allfather and prayed Reidmar to unsay his word, +and cease to desire the gold. But Reidmar the Wise, and Fafnir the +Lord, and Regin the Worker cried aloud in their wrath:-- + + "'O hearken Gods of the Goths! ye shall die, and we shall be Gods, + And rule your men beloved with bitter-heavy rods, + And make them beasts beneath us, save today ye do our will, + And pay us the ransom of blood, and our hearts with the gold fulfill.' + + "But Odin spake in answer, and his voice was awful and cold: + 'Give righteous doom, O Reidmar! say what ye will of the Gold!' + + "Then Reidmar laughed in his heart, and his wrath and his wisdom fled, + And nought but his greed abided; and he spake from his throne and said: + + "'Now hearken the doom I shall speak! Ye stranger-folk shall be free + When ye give me the Flame of the Waters, the gathered Gold of the Sea, + That Andvari hideth rejoicing in the wan realm pale as the grave; + And the Master of Sleight shall fetch it, and the hand that never gave, + And the heart that begrudgeth for ever shall gather and give and rue. + --Lo this is the doom of the wise, and no doom shall be spoken anew.' + + "Then Odin spake: 'It is well; the Curser shall seek for the curse; + And the Greedy shall cherish the evil--and the seed of the Great they shall + nurse.' + + "No word spake Reidmar the great, for the eyes of his heart were turned + To the edge of the outer desert, so sore for the gold he yearned. + But Loki I loosed from the toils, and he goeth his way abroad; + And the heart of Odin he knoweth, and where he shall seek the Hoard. + + "There is a desert of dread in the uttermost part of the world, + Where over a wall of mountains is a mighty water hurled, + Whose hidden head none knoweth, nor where it meeteth the sea; + And that force is the Force of Andvari, and an Elf of the Dark is he. + In the cloud and the desert he dwelleth amid that land alone; + And his work is the storing of treasure within his house of stone. + Time was when he knew of wisdom, and had many a tale to tell + Of the days before the Dwarf-age, and of what in that world befell: + And he knew of the stars and the sun, and the worlds that come and go + On the nether rim of heaven, and whence the wind doth blow, + And how the sea hangs balanced betwixt the curving lands, + And how all drew together for the first Gods' fashioning hands. + But now is all gone from him, save the craft of gathering gold, + And he heedeth nought of the summer, nor knoweth the winter cold, + Nor looks to the sun nor the snowfall, nor ever dreams of the sea, + Nor hath heard of the making of men-folk, nor of where the high Gods be; + But ever he gripeth and gathereth, and he toileth hour by hour, + Nor knoweth the noon from the midnight as he looks on his stony bower, + And saith: 'It is short, it is narrow for all I shall gather and get; + For the world is but newly fashioned, and long shall its years be yet.' + + "There Loki fareth, and seeth in a land of nothing good, + Far off o'er the empty desert, the reek of the falling flood + Go up to the floor of heaven, and thither turn his feet + As he weaveth the unseen meshes and the snare of strong deceit; + So he cometh his ways to the water, where the glittering foam-bow glows, + And the huge flood leaps the rock-wall and a green arch over it throws. + There under the roof of water he treads the quivering floor, + And the hush of the desert is felt amid the water's roar, + And the bleak sun lighteth the wave-vault, and tells of the fruitless plain, + And the showers that nourish nothing, and the summer come in vain. + + "There did the great Guile-master his toils and his tangles set, + And as wide as was the water, so wide was woven the net; + And as dim as the Elf's remembrance did the meshes of it show; + And he had no thought of sorrow, nor spared to come and go + On his errands of griping and getting till he felt himself tangled and + caught: + Then back to his blinded soul was his ancient wisdom brought, + And he saw his fall and his ruin, as a man by the lightning's flame + Sees the garth all flooded by foemen; and again he remembered his name; + And e'en as a book well written the tale of the Gods he knew, + And the tale of the making of men, and much of the deeds they should do. + + * * * * * + + "Then Andvari groaned and answered: 'I know what thou wouldst have, + The wealth mine own hands gathered, the gold that no man gave.' + + "'Come forth,' said Loki, 'and give it, and dwell in peace henceforth-- + Or die in the toils if thou listeth, if thy life be nothing worth.' + + "Full sore the Elf lamented, but he came before the God, + And the twain went into the rock-house and on fine gold they trod, + And the walls shone bright, and brighter than the sun of the upper air. + How great was that treasure of treasures: and the Helm of Dread was there; + The world but in dreams had seen it; and there was the hauberk of gold; + None other is in the heavens, nor has earth of its fellow told. + + "Then Loki bade the Elf-king bring all to the upper day, + And he dight himself with his Godhead to bear the treasure away: + So there in the dim grey desert before the God of Guile, + Great heaps of the hid-world's treasure the weary Elf must pile, + And Loki looked on laughing: but, when it all was done, + And the Elf was hurrying homeward, his finger gleamed in the sun: + Then Loki cried: 'Thou art guileful: thou hast not learned the tale + Of the wisdom that Gods hath gotten and their might of all avail. + + * * * * * + + "'Come hither again to thy master, and give the ring to me; + For meseems it is Loki's portion, and the Bale of Men shall it be.' + + "Then the Elf drew off the gold-ring and stood with empty hand + E'en where the flood fell over 'twixt the water and the land, + And he gazed on the great Guile-master, and huge and grim he grew; + And his anguish swelled within him, and the word of the Norns he knew; + How that gold was the seed of gold to the wise and the shapers of things, + The hoarders of hidden treasure, and the unseen glory of rings; + But the seed of woe to the world and the foolish wasters of men, + And grief to the generations that die and spring again: + Then he cried: + 'There farest thou Loki, and might I load thee worse + Than with what thine ill heart beareth, then shouldst thou bear my curse: + But for men a curse thou bearest: entangled in my gold, + Amid my woe abideth another woe untold. + Two brethren and a father, eight kings my grief shall slay; + And the hearts of queens shall be broken, and their eyes shall loathe the + day.' + + * * * * * + + "But Loki laughed in silence, and swift in Godhead went, + To the golden hall of Reidmar and the house of our content. + But when that world of treasure was laid within our hall + 'Twas as if the sun were minded to live 'twixt wall and wall, + And all we stood by and panted. Then Odin spake and said: + + "'O Kings, O folk of the Dwarf-kind, lo, the ransom duly paid! + Will ye have this sun of the ocean, and reap the fruitful field, + And garner up the harvest that earth therefrom shall yield.' + + "So he spake; but a little season nought answered Reidmar the wise, + But turned his face from the Treasure, and peered with eager eyes + Endlong the hall and athwart it, as a man may chase about + A ray of the sun of the morning that a naked sword throws out; + And lo from Loki's right-hand came the flash of the fruitful ring, + And at last spake Reidmar scowling: + 'Ye wait for my yea-saying + That your feet may go free on the earth, and the fear of my toils may be + done; + That then ye may say in your laughter: The fools of the time agone! + The purblind eyes of the Dwarf-kind! they have gotten the garnered sheaf + And have let their Masters depart with the Seed of Gold and of Grief: + O Loki, friend of Allfather, cast down Andvari's ring, + Or the world shall yet turn backward and the high heavens lack a king.' + + "Then Loki drew off the Elf-ring and cast it down on the heap, + And forth as the gold met gold did the light of its glory leap: + But he spake: 'It rejoiceth my heart that no whit of all ye shall lack. + Lest the curse of the Elf-king cleave not, and ye 'scape the utter wrack.' + +Then Regin loosed the shackles of the gods and they departed into the +night, but Odin stayed in the doorway and thus he spake: "Why do ye +thus desire treasure and take sorrow to yourselves? Know ye not that +I was before your fathers' fathers, and that I can foresee your fate, +and the end of the gold ye covet? I am the Wise One who ordereth all." + +Then they went, but Regin afterwards often recalled Odin's words and +the evening filled with the gleam of the gold, but little cared he +then, so well he loved the gold. And he prayed his father to keep the +treasure, but give a little unto him and Fafnir for the help they had +given him that day. + +His father in no wise heeded his words, but sat ever on his ivory +throne, staring moodily at the gold. But Fafnir grew fierce and grim +as he watched him. + + "The night waned into the morning, and still above the Hoard + Sat Reidmar clad in purple; but Fafnir took his sword, + And I took my smithying-hammer, and apart in the world we went; + But I came aback in the even, and my heart was heavy and spent; + And I longed, but fear was upon me and I durst not go to the Gold; + So I lay in the house of my toil mid the things I had fashioned of old; + And methought as I lay in my bed 'twixt waking and slumber of night + That I heard the tinkling metal and beheld the hall alight, + But I slept and dreamed of the Gods, and the things that never have slept, + Till I woke to a cry and a clashing and forth from the bed I leapt, + And there by the heaped-up Elf-gold my brother Fafnir stood, + And there at his feet lay Reidmar and reddened the Treasure with blood; + And e'en as I looked on his eyen they glazed and whitened with death, + And forth on the torch-litten hall he shed his latest breath. + + "But I looked on Fafnir and trembled for he wore the Helm of Dread, + And his sword was bare in his hand, and the sword and the hand were red + With the blood of our father Reidmar, and his body was wrapped in gold, + With the ruddy-gleaming mailcoat of whose fellow hath nought been told, + And it seemed as I looked upon him that he grew beneath mine eyes: + And then in the mid-hall's silence did his dreadful voice arise: + + "'I have slain my father Reidmar, that I alone might keep + The Gold of the darksome places, the Candle of the Deep. + I am such as the Gods have made me, lest the Dwarf-kind people the earth, + Or mingle their ancient wisdom with its short-lived latest birth. + I shall dwell alone henceforward, and the Gold and its waxing curse, + I shall brood on them both together, let my life grow better or worse. + And I am a King henceforward and long shall be my life, + And the Gold shall grow with my longing, for I shall hide it from strife,' + And hoard up the Ring of Andvari in the house thine hand hath built. + O thou, wilt thou tarry and tarry, till I cast thy blood on the guilt? + Lo, I am a King for ever, and alone on the Gold shall I dwell + And do no deed to repent of and leave no tale to tell.' + + "More awful grew his visage as he spake the word of dread, + And no more durst I behold him, but with heart a-cold I fled; + I fled from the glorious house my hands had made so fair, + As poor as the new-born baby with nought of raiment or gear: + I fled from the heaps of gold, and my goods were the eager will, + And the heart that remembereth all, and the hand that may never be still. + + "Then unto this land I came, and that was long ago. + As men-folk count the years; and I taught them to reap and to sow, + + * * * * * + + "And I grew the master of masters--Think thou how strange it is + That the sword in the hands of a stripling shall one day end all this! + + "Yet oft mid all my wisdom did I long for my brother's part, + And Fafnir's mighty kingship weighed heavy on my heart + When the Kings of the earthly kingdoms would give me golden gifts + From out of their scanty treasures, due pay for my cunning shifts. + And once--didst thou number the years thou wouldst think it long ago-- + I wandered away to the country from whence our stem did grow. + + * * * * * + + "Then I went to the pillared hall-stead, and lo, huge heaps of gold, + And to and fro amidst them a mighty Serpent rolled: + Then my heart grew chill with terror, for I thought on the wont of our race, + And I, who had lost their cunning, was a man in a deadly place, + A feeble man and a swordless in the lone destroyer's fold; + For I knew that the Worm was Fafnir, the Wallower on the Gold. + + "So I gathered my strength and fled, and hid my shame again + Mid the foolish sons of men-folk; and the more my hope was vain, + The more I longed for the Treasure, and deliv'rance from the yoke: + And yet passed the generations, and I dwelt with the short-lived folk. + + "Long years, and long years after, the tale of men-folk told + How up on the Glittering Heath was the house and the dwelling of gold, + And within that house was the Serpent, and the Lord of the Fearful Face: + Then I wondered sore of the desert; for I thought of the golden place + My hands of old had builded; for I knew by many a sign + That the Fearful Face was my brother, that the blood of the Worm was mine. + This was ages long ago, and yet in that desert he dwells, + Betwixt him and men death lieth, and no man of his semblance tells; + But the tale of the great Gold-wallower is never the more outworn. + Then came thy kin, O Sigurd, and thy father's father was born, + And I fell to the dreaming of dreams, and I saw thine eyes therein, + And I looked and beheld thy glory and all that thy sword should win; + And I thought that thou shouldst be he, who should bring my heart its rest, + That of all the gifts of the Kings thy sword should give me the best. + + "Ah, I fell to the dreaming of dreams; and oft the gold I saw, + And the golden-fashioned Hauberk, clean-wrought without a flaw, + And the Helm that aweth the world; and I knew of Fafnir's heart + That his wisdom was greater than mine, because he had held him apart, + Nor spilt on the sons of men-folk our knowledge of ancient days, + Nor bartered one whit for their love, nor craved for the people's praise. + + "And some day I shall have it all, his gold and his craft and his heart + And the gathered and garnered wisdom he guards in the mountains apart." + + * * * * * + + And he spake: "Hast thou hearkened, Sigurd, wilt thou help a man that is old + To avenge him for his father? Wilt thou win that Treasure of Gold + And be more than the Kings of the earth? Wilt thou rid the earth of a wrong + And heal the woe and the sorrow my heart hath endured o'erlong?" + + Then Sigurd looked upon him with steadfast eyes and clear, + And Regin drooped and trembled as he stood the doom to hear: + But the bright child spake as aforetime, and answered the Master and said: + "Thou shalt have thy will, and the Treasure, and take the curse on thine + head." + + +_Of the forging of the Sword that is called The Wrath of Sigurd._ + + * * * * * + + But when the morrow was come he went to his mother and spake: + "The shards, the shards of the sword, that thou gleanedst for my sake + In the night on the field of slaughter, in the tide when my father fell, + Hast thou kept them through sorrow and joyance? hast thou warded them trusty + and well? + Where hast thou laid them, my mother?" + Then she looked upon him and said: + "Art thou wroth, O Sigurd my son, that such eyes are in thine head? + And wilt thou be wroth with thy mother? do I withstand thee at all?" + + "Nay," said he, "nought am I wrathful, but the days rise up like a wall + Betwixt my soul and the deeds, and I strive to rend them through. + + * * * * * + + "Now give me the sword, my mother, that Sigmund gave thee to keep." + + She said: "I shall give it thee gladly, for fain shall I be of thy praise + When thou knowest my careful keeping of that hope of the earlier days." + + So she took his hand in her hand, and they went their ways, they twain; + Till they came to the treasure of queen-folk, the guarded chamber of gain: + They were all alone with its riches, and she turned the key in the gold, + And lifted the sea-born purple, and the silken web unrolled, + And lo, 'twixt her hands and her bosom the shards of Sigmund's sword; + No rust-fleck stained its edges, and the gems of the ocean's hoard + Were as bright in the hilts and glorious, as when in the Volsungs' hall + It shone in the eyes of the earl-folk and flashed from the shielded wall. + + But Sigurd smiled upon it, and he said: "O Mother of Kings, + Well hast thou warded the war-glaive for a mirror of many things, + And a hope of much fulfilment: well hast thou given to me + The message of my fathers, and the word of thing to be: + Trusty hath been thy warding, but its hour is over now: + These shards shall be knit together, and shall hear the war-wind blow." + + * * * * * + + Then she felt his hands about her as he took the fateful sword, + And he kissed her soft and sweetly; but she answered never a word: + + * * * * * + + But swift on his ways went Sigurd, and to Regin's house he came, + Where the Master stood in the doorway and behind him leapt the flame, + And dark he looked and little: no more his speech was sweet, + No words on his lip were gathered the Volsung child to greet, + Till he took the sword from Sigurd and the shards of the days of old; + Then he spake: + "Will nothing serve thee save this blue steel and cold, + The bane of thy father's father, the fate of all his kin, + The baleful blade I fashioned, the Wrath that the Gods would win?" + + Then answered the eye-bright Sigurd: "If thou thy craft wilt do, + Nought save these battle-gleanings shall be my helper true:" + +So Regin welded together the shards of Sigmund's sword, and wrought +the Wrath of Sigurd, whose hilts were great and along whose edge ran a +living flame so that men thought it like sunlight and lightning +mingled. Then on Greyfell, with the Wrath girt by his side, Sigurd +rode to the hall of Gripir, who told him of deeds to be and of the +fate that would befall him. In no wise was Sigurd troubled, but smiled +as a happy child, and together they talked of the deeds of the kings +of the Earth, of the wonders of Heaven, and of the Queen of the Sea. + +And Sigurd told Gripir that he indeed was wise above all men, but for +himself had the Wrath been fashioned, and he was ready to ride to the +Glittering Heath. So they took leave of one another, and as the sky grew +blood-red in the West, and the birds were flying homeward, Sigurd drew +near to Regin's dwelling. + + +_Sigurd rideth to the Glittering Heath._ + + Again on the morrow morning doth Sigurd the Volsung ride, + And Regin, the Master of Masters, is faring by his side, + And they leave the dwelling of kings and ride the summer land, + Until at the eve of the day the hills are on either hand; + Then they wend up higher and higher, and over the heaths they fare + Till the moon shines broad on the midnight, and they sleep 'neath the + heavens bare; + And they waken and look behind them, and lo, the dawning of day + And the little land of the Helper and its valleys far away; + But the mountains rise before them, a wall exceeding great. + + Then spake the Master of Masters: "We have come to the garth and the gate; + There is youth and rest behind thee and many a thing to do, + There is many a fond desire, and each day born anew; + And the land of the Volsungs to conquer, and many a people's praise: + And for me there is rest it may be, and the peaceful end of days. + We have come to the garth and the gate; to the hall-door now shall we win, + Shall we go to look on the high-seat and see what sitteth therein?" + + "Yea, and what else?" said Sigurd, "was thy tale but mockeries, + And have I been drifted hither on a wind of empty lies?" + + "It was sooth, it was sooth," said Regin, "and more might I have told + Had I heart and space to remember the deeds of the days of old." + + * * * * * + + Day-long they fared through the mountains, and that highway's fashioner, + Forsooth, was a fearful craftsman, and his hands the waters were, + And the heaped-up ice was his mattock, and the fire-blast was his man, + And never a whit he heeded though his walls were waste and wan, + And the guest-halls of that wayside great heaps of the ashes spent. + But, each as a man alone, through the sun-bright day they went, + And they rode till the moon rose upward, and the stars were small and fair, + Then they slept on the long-slaked ashes beneath the heavens bare; + And the cold dawn came and they wakened, and the King of the Dwarf-kind + seemed + As a thing of that wan land fashioned; but Sigurd glowed and gleamed + Amid a shadowless twilight by Greyfell's cloudy flank, + As a little space they abided while the latest star-world shrank; + On the backward road looked Regin and heard how Sigurd drew + The girths of Greyfell's saddle, and the voice of his sword he knew, + + * * * * * + + And his war-gear clanged and tinkled as he leapt to the saddle-stead: + And the sun rose up at their backs and the grey world changed to red, + And away to the west went Sigurd by the glory wreathed about, + But little and black was Regin as a fire that dieth out. + Day-long they rode the mountains by the crags exceeding old, + And the ash that the first of the Dwarf-kind found dull and quenched and + cold. + Then the moon in the mid-sky swam, and the stars were fair and pale, + And beneath the naked heaven they slept in an ash-grey dale; + And again at the dawn-dusk's ending they stood upon their feet, + And Sigurd donned his war-gear nor his eyes would Regin meet. + + A clear streak widened in heaven low down above the earth; + And above it lay the cloud-flecks, and the sun, anigh its birth, + Unseen, their hosts was staining with the very hue of blood, + And ruddy by Greyfell's shoulder the Son of Sigmund stood. + + Then spake the Master of Masters: "What is thine hope this morn + That thou dightest thee, O Sigurd, to ride this world forlorn?" + + "What needeth hope," said Sigurd, "when the heart of the Volsungs turns + To the light of the Glittering Heath, and the house where the Waster burns? + I shall slay the Foe of the Gods, as thou badst me a while agone, + And then with the Gold and its wisdom shalt thou be left alone." + + "O Child," said the King of the Dwarf-kind, "when the day at last comes + round + For the dread and the Dusk of the Gods, and the kin of the Wolf is unbound, + When thy sword shall hew the fire, and the wildfire beateth thy shield, + Shalt thou praise the wages of hope and the Gods that pitched the field?" + + "O Foe of the Gods," said Sigurd, "wouldst thou hide the evil thing, + And the curse that is greater than thou, lest death end thy labouring, + Lest the night should come upon thee amidst thy toil for nought? + It is me, it is me that thou fearest, if indeed I know thy thought; + Yea me, who would utterly light the face of all good and ill, + If not with the fruitful beams that the summer shall fulfill, + Then at least with the world a-blazing, and the glare of the grinded sword. + + * * * * * + + "I have hearkened not nor heeded the words of thy fear and thy ruth: + Thou hast told thy tale and thy longing, and thereto I hearkened well:-- + Let it lead thee up to heaven, let it lead thee down to hell, + The deed shall be done tomorrow: thou shalt have that measureless Gold, + And devour the garnered wisdom that blessed thy realm of old, + That hath lain unspent and begrudged in the very heart of hate: + With the blood and the might of thy brother thine hunger shalt thou sate; + And this deed shall be mine and thine; but take heed for what followeth + then! + Let each do after his kind! I shall do the deeds of men; + I shall harvest the field of their sowing, in the bed of their strewing + shall sleep; + To them shall I give my life-days, to the Gods my glory to keep. + But them with the wealth and the wisdom that the best of the Gods might + praise, + If thou shall indeed excel them and become the hope of the days, + Then me in turn hast thou conquered, and I shall be in turn + Thy fashioned brand of the battle through good and evil to burn, + Or the flame that sleeps in thy stithy for the gathered winds to blow, + When thou listest to do and undo and thine uttermost cunning to show. + But indeed I wot full surely that thou shalt follow thy kind; + And for all that cometh after, the Norns shall loose and bind." + + Then his bridle-reins rang sweetly, and the warding-walls of death, + And Regin drew up to him, and the Wrath sang loud in the sheath, + And forth from that trench in the mountains by the westward way they ride; + And little and black goes Regin by the golden Volsung's side; + + * * * * * + + So ever they wended upward, and the midnight hour was o'er, + And the stars grew pale and paler, and failed from the heaven's floor, + And the moon was a long while dead, but where was the promise of day? + No change came over the darkness, no streak of the dawning grey; + No sound of the wind's uprising adown the night there ran: + It was blind as the Gaping Gulf ere the first of the worlds began. + + Then athwart and athwart rode Sigurd and sought the walls of the pass, + But found no wall before him; and the road rang hard as brass + Beneath the hoofs of Greyfell, as up and up he trod: + --Was it the daylight of Hell, or the night of the doorway of God? + But lo, at the last a glimmer, and a light from the west there came, + And another and another, like points of far-off flame; + And they grew and brightened and gathered; and whiles together they ran + Like the moonwake over the waters; and whiles they were scant and wan, + Some greater and some lesser, like the boats of fishers laid + About the sea of midnight; and a dusky dawn they made, + A faint and glimmering twilight: So Sigurd strains his eyes, + And he sees how a land deserted all round about him lies + More changeless than mid-ocean, as fruitless as its floor: + Then the heart leaps up within him, for he knows that his journey is o'er, + And there he draweth bridle on the first of the Glittering Heath: + And the Wrath is waxen merry and sings in the golden sheath + As he leaps adown from Greyfell, and stands upon his feet, + And wends his ways through the twilight the Foe of the Gods to meet. + + +_Sigurd slayeth Fafnir the Serpent._ + + Nought Sigurd seeth of Regin, and nought he heeds of him, + As in watchful might and glory he strides the desert dim, + And behind him paceth Greyfell; but he deems the time o'erlong + Till he meet the great gold-warden, the over-lord of wrong. + + So he wendeth midst the silence through the measureless desert place, + And beholds the countless glitter with wise and steadfast face, + Till him-seems in a little season that the flames grown somewhat wan, + And a grey thing glimmers before him, and becomes a mighty man, + One-eyed and ancient-seeming, in cloud-grey raiment clad; + A friendly man and glorious, and of visage smiling-glad: + Then content in Sigurd groweth because of his majesty, + And he heareth him speak in the desert as the wind of the winter sea: + + "Hail Sigurd! Give me thy greeting ere thy ways alone thou wend!" + + Said Sigurd: "Hail! I greet thee, my friend and my fathers' friend." + + "Now whither away," said the elder, "with the Steed and the ancient Sword?" + + "To the greedy house," said Sigurd, "and the King of the Heavy Hoard." + + "Wilt thou smite, O Sigurd, Sigurd?" said the ancient mighty-one. + + "Yea, yea, I shall smite," said the Volsung, "save the Gods have slain the + sun." + + "What wise wilt thou smite," said the elder, "lest the dark devour thy day?" + + "Thou hast praised the sword," said the child, "and the sword shall find a + way." + + "Be learned of me," said the Wise-one, "for I was the first of thy folk." + + Said the child: "I shall do thy bidding, and for thee shall I strike the + stroke." + + Spake the Wise-one: "Thus shalt thou do when thou wendest hence alone: + Thou shalt find a path in the desert, and a road in the world of stone; + It is smooth and deep and hollow, but the rain hath riven it not, + And the wild wind hath not worn it, for it is but Fafnir's slot, + Whereby he wends to the water and the fathomless pool of old, + When his heart in the dawn is weary, and he loathes the ancient Gold: + There think of the great and the fathers, and bare the whetted Wrath, + And dig a pit in the highway, and a grave in the Serpent's path: + Lie thou therein, O Sigurd, and thine hope from the glooming hide, + And be as the dead for a season, and the living light abide! + And so shall thine heart avail thee, and thy mighty fateful hand, + And the Light that lay in the Branstock, the well-beloved brand." + + Said the child: "I shall do thy bidding, and for thee shall I strike the + stroke; + For I love thee, friend of my fathers, Wise Heart of the holy folk." + + So spake the Son of Sigmund, and beheld no man anear, + And again was the night the midnight, and the twinkling flame shone clear + In the hush of the Glittering Heath; and alone went Sigmund's son + Till he came to the road of Fafnir, and the highway worn by one, + By the drift of the rain unfurrowed, by the windy years unrent, + And forth from the dark it came, and into the dark it went. + + Great then was the heart of Sigurd, for there in the midmost he stayed, + And thought of the ancient fathers, and bared the bright blue blade, + That shone as a fleck of the day-light, and the night was all around. + Fair then was the Son of Sigmund as he toiled and laboured the ground; + Great, mighty he was in his working, and the Glittering Heath he clave, + And the sword shone blue before him as he dug the pit and the grave: + There he hid his hope from the night-tide and lay like one of the dead, + And wise and wary he bided; and the heavens hung over his head. + + Now the night wanes over Sigurd, and the ruddy rings he sees, + And his war-gear's fair adornment, and the God-folk's images; + But a voice in the desert ariseth, a sound in the waste has birth, + A changing tinkle and clatter, as of gold dragged over the earth: + O'er Sigurd widens the day-light, and the sound is drawing close, + And speedier than the trample of speedy feet it goes; + But ever deemeth Sigurd that the sun brings back the day, + For the grave grows lighter and lighter and heaven o'erhead is grey. + + But now, how the rattling waxeth till he may not heed nor hark! + And the day and the heavens are hidden, and o'er Sigurd rolls the dark, + As the flood of a pitchy river, and heavy-thick is the air + With the venom of hate long hoarded, and lies once fashioned fair: + Then a wan face comes from the darkness, and is wrought in man-like wise, + And the lips are writhed with laughter and bleared are the blinded eyes; + And it wandereth hither and thither, and searcheth through the grave + And departeth, leaving nothing, save the dark, rolled wave on wave + O'er the golden head of Sigurd and the edges of the sword, + And the world weighs heavy on Sigurd, and the weary curse of the Hoard; + Him-seemed the grave grew straiter, and his hope of life grew chill, + And his heart by the Worm was enfolded, and the bonds of the Ancient Ill. + + Then was Sigurd stirred by his glory, and he strove with the swaddling of + Death; + He turned in the pit on the highway, and the grave of the Glittering Heath; + He laughed and smote with the laughter and thrust up over his head. + And smote the venom asunder and clave the heart of Dread; + Then he leapt from the pit and the grave, and the rushing river of blood, + And fulfilled with the joy of the War-God on the face of earth he stood + With red sword high uplifted, with wrathful glittering eyes; + And he laughed at the heavens above him for he saw the sun arise, + And Sigurd gleamed on the desert, and shone in the new-born light, + And the wind in his raiment wavered, and all the world was bright. + + But there was the ancient Fafnir, and the Face of Terror lay + On the huddled folds of the Serpent, that were black and ashen-grey + In the desert lit by the sun; and those twain looked each on each, + And forth from the Face of Terror went a sound of dreadful speech: + + "Child, child, who art thou that hast smitten? bright child, of whence is + thy birth?" + + "I am called the Wild-thing Glorious, and alone I wend on the earth." + + * * * * * + + "What master hath taught thee of murder?--Thou hast wasted Fafnir's day." + + "I, Sigurd, knew and desired, and the bright sword learned the way." + + * * * * * + + "I am blind, O Strong Compeller, in the bonds of Death and Hell. + But thee shall the rattling Gold and the red rings bring unto bane." + + "Yet the rings mine hand shall scatter, and the earth shall gather again." + + "Woe, woe! in the days passed over I bore the Helm of Dread, + I reared the Face of Terror, and the hoarded hate of the Dead: + I overcame and was mighty; I was wise and cherished my heart + In the waste where no man wandered, and the high house builded apart: + Till I met thine hand, O Sigurd, and thy might ordained from of old; + And I fought and fell in the morning, and I die far off from the Gold." + + * * * * * + + Then all sank into silence, and the Son of Sigmund stood + On the torn and furrowed desert by the pool of Fafnir's blood, + And the Serpent lay before him, dead, chilly, dull, and grey; + And over the Glittering Heath fair shone the sun and the day, + And a light wind followed the sun and breathed o'er the fateful place, + As fresh as it furrows the sea-plain or bows the acres' face. + + +_Sigurd slayeth Regin the Master of Masters on the Glittering Heath._ + + There standeth Sigurd the Volsung, and leaneth on his sword, + And beside him now is Greyfell and looks on his golden lord, + And the world is awake and living; and whither now shall they wend, + Who have come to the Glittering Heath, and wrought that deed to its end? + For hither comes Regin the Master from the skirts of the field of death. + + * * * * * + + Afoot he went o'er the desert, and he came unto Sigurd and stared + At the golden gear of the man, and the Wrath yet bloody and bared, + And the light locks raised by the wind, and the eyes beginning to smile, + And the lovely lips of the Volsung, and the brow that knew no guile; + And he murmured under his breath while his eyes grew white with wrath: + + "O who art thou, and wherefore, and why art thou in the path?" + + Then he turned to the ash-grey Serpent, and grovelled low on the ground, + And he drank of that pool of the blood where the stones of the wild were + drowned, + And long he lapped as a dog; but when he arose again, + Lo, a flock of the mountain-eagles that drew to the feastful plain; + And he turned and looked on Sigurd, as bright in the sun he stood, + A stripling fair and slender, and wiped the Wrath of the blood. + + * * * * * + + Then he scowled and crouched and darkened, and came to Sigurd and spake: + "O child, thou hast slain my brother, and the Wrath is alive and awake." + + "Thou sayest sooth," said Sigurd, "thy deed and mine is done: + But now our ways shall sunder, for here, meseemeth, the sun + Hath but little of deeds to do, and no love to win aback." + + * * * * * + + But Regin darkened before him, and exceeding grim was he grown, + And he spake: "Thou hast slain my brother, and wherewith wilt thou atone?" + + "Stand up, O Master," said Sigurd, "O Singer of ancient days, + And take the wealth I have won thee, ere we wend on the sundering ways. + I have toiled and thou hast desired, and the Treasure is surely anear, + And thou hast wisdom to find it, and I have slain thy fear." + + But Regin crouched and darkened: "Thou hast slain my brother," he said. + + "Take thou the Gold," quoth Sigurd, "for the ransom of my head!" + + Then Regin crouched and darkened, and over the earth he hung; + And he said: "Thou hast slain my brother, and the Gods are yet but young." + + * * * * * + + And he spake: "Thou hast slain my brother, and today shall thou be my + thrall: + Yea, a King shall be my cook-boy and this heath my cooking-hall." + + Then he crept to the ash-grey coils where the life of his brother had lain, + And he drew a glaive from his side and smote the smitten and slain, + And tore the heart from Fafnir, while the eagles cried o'erhead, + And sharp and shrill was their voice o'er the entrails of the dead. + + Then Regin spake to Sigurd: "Of this slaying wilt thou be free? + Then gather thou fire together and roast the heart for me, + That I may eat it and live, and be thy master and more; + For therein was might and wisdom, and the grudged and hoarded lore:-- + --Or else, depart on thy ways afraid from the Glittering Heath." + + Then he fell abackward and slept, nor set his sword in the sheath. + + * * * * * + + But Sigurd took the Heart, and wood on the waste he found, + The wood that grew and died, as it crept on the niggard ground, + And grew and died again, and lay like whitened bones; + And the ernes cried over his head, as he builded his hearth of stones, + And kindled the fire for cooking, and sat and sang o'er the roast + The song of his fathers of old, and the Wolflings' gathering host: + So there on the Glittering Heath rose up the little flame, + And the dry sticks crackled amidst it, and alow the eagles came, + And seven they were by tale, and they pitched all round about + The cooking-fire of Sigurd, and sent their song-speech out: + But nought he knoweth its wisdom, or the word that they would speak: + And hot grew the Heart of Fafnir and sang amid the reek. + + Then Sigurd looketh on Regin, and he deemeth it overlong + That he dighteth the dear-bought morsel, and the might for the Master of + wrong, + So he reacheth his hand to the roast to see if the cooking be o'er; + But the blood and the fat seethed from it and scalded his finger sore, + And he set his hand to his mouth to quench the fleshly smart, + And he tasted the flesh of the Serpent and the blood of Fafnir's Heart: + Then there came a change upon him, for the speech of fowl he knew, + And wise in the ways of the beast-kind as the Dwarfs of old he grew; + And he knitted his brows and hearkened, and wrath in his heart arose + For he felt beset of evil in a world of many foes. + But the hilts of the Wrath he handled, and Regin's heart he saw, + And how that the Foe of the Gods the net of death would draw; + And his bright eyes flashed and sparkled, and his mouth grew set and stern + As he hearkened the voice of the eagles, and their song began to learn. + +And six of the eagles cried to Sigurd not to tarry before the feast, and +they urged him to kill Regin, who had planned Fafnir's death that he +alone might live and fashion the world after his evil will. + + And the seventh: "Arise, O Sigurd, lest the hour be overlate! + For the sun in the mid-noon shineth, and swift is the hand of Fate: + Arise! lest the world run backward and the blind heart have its will, + And once again be tangled the sundered good and ill; + Lest love and hatred perish, lest the world forget its tale, + And the Gods sit deedless, dreaming, in the high-walled heavenly vale." + + Then swift ariseth Sigurd, and the Wrath in his hand is bare, + And he looketh, and Regin sleepeth, and his eyes wide-open glare; + But his lips smile false in his dreaming, and his hand is on the sword; + For he dreams himself the Master and the new world's fashioning-lord, + And his dream hath forgotten Sigurd, and the King's life lies in the pit; + He is nought; Death gnaweth upon him, while the Dwarfs in mastery sit. + + But lo, how the eyes of Sigurd the heart of the guileful behold, + And great is Allfather Odin, and upriseth the Curse of the Gold, + And the Branstock bloometh to heaven from the ancient wondrous root; + The summer hath shone on its blossoms, and Sigurd's Wrath is the fruit. + + * * * * * + + Then his second stroke struck Sigurd, for the Wrath flashed thin and white, + And 'twixt head and trunk of Regin fierce ran the fateful light; + And there lay brother by brother a faded thing and wan. + But Sigurd cried in the desert: "So far have I wended on! + Dead are the foes of God-home that would blend the good and the ill; + And the World shall yet be famous, and the Gods shall have their will. + Nor shall I be dead and forgotten, while the earth grows worse and worse, + With the blind heart king o'er the people, and binding curse with curse." + + +_How Sigurd took to him the Treasure of the Elf Andvari._ + +So Sigurd ate of the heart of Fafnir, and as he ate the longing to be +gone to mighty deeds grew great, and he leapt on Greyfell and sought the +home of the Dweller amid the Gold on the edge of the heath. He strode +through the doorway, and before him lay golden armour, golden coins, +and golden sands from rivers that none but the Dwarfs could mine. But +more wonderful than all other treasures were the Helm of Aweing, and the +Hauberk all of gold, while on top of the midmost heap, gleaming like +the brightest star in the sky, lay the ring of Andvari. + +Sigurd put on the helm and the hauberk, and dragged out gold wherewith he +loaded Greyfell till the cloud-grey horse shone, while the eagles ever +bade him bring forth the treasure, and let the gold shine in the open. +And as the stars paled and the dawn grew clearer, Sigurd and Greyfell +passed swiftly and lightly towards the west. + + +_How Sigurd awoke Brynhild upon Hindfell._ + + By long roads rideth Sigurd amidst that world of stone, + And somewhat south he turneth; for he would not be alone, + But longs for the dwellings of man-folk, and the kingly people's speech, + And the days of the glee and the joyance, where men laugh each to each. + But still the desert endureth, and afar must Greyfell fare + From the wrack of the Glittering Heath, and Fafnir's golden lair. + Long Sigurd rideth the waste, when, lo, on a morning of day + From out of the tangled crag-walls, amidst the cloud-land grey + Comes up a mighty mountain, and it is as though there burns + A torch amidst of its cloud-wreath; so thither Sigurd turns, + For he deems indeed from its topmost to look on the best of the earth; + And Greyfell neigheth beneath him, and his heart is full of mirth. + + * * * * * + + Night falls, but yet rides Sigurd, and hath no thought of rest, + For he longs to climb that rock-world and behold the earth at its best; + But now mid the maze of the foot-hills he seeth the light no more, + And the stars are lovely and gleaming on the lightless heavenly floor. + So up and up he wendeth till the night is wearing thin; + And he rideth a rift of the mountain, and all is dark therein, + Till the stars are dimmed by dawning and the wakening world is cold; + Then afar in the upper rock-wall a breach doth he behold, + And a flood of light poured inward the doubtful dawning blinds: + So swift he rideth thither and the mouth of the breach he finds, + And sitteth awhile on Greyfell on the marvellous thing to gaze: + For lo, the side of Hindfell enwrapped by the fervent blaze, + And nought 'twixt earth and heaven save a world of flickering flame, + And a hurrying shifting tangle, where the dark rents went and came. + + Great groweth the heart of Sigurd with uttermost desire, + And he crieth kind to Greyfell, and they hasten up, and nigher, + Till he draweth rein in the dawning on the face of Hindfell's steep: + But who shall heed the dawning where the tongues of that wildfire leap? + For they weave a wavering wall, that driveth over the heaven + The wind that is born within it; nor ever aside is it driven + By the mightiest wind of the waste, and the rain-flood amidst it is nought; + And no wayfarer's door and no window the hand of its builder hath wrought. + But thereon is the Volsung smiling as its breath uplifteth his hair, + And his eyes shine bright with its image, and his mail gleams white and + fair, + And his war-helm pictures the heavens and the waning stars behind: + But his neck is Greyfell stretching to snuff at the flame-wall blind, + And his cloudy flank upheaveth, and tinkleth the knitted mail, + And the gold of the uttermost waters is waxen wan and pale. + + Now Sigurd turns in his saddle, and the hilt of the Wrath he shifts, + And draws a girth the tighter; then the gathered reins he lifts, + And crieth aloud to Greyfell, and rides at the wildfire's heart; + But the white wall wavers before him and the flame-flood rusheth apart, + And high o'er his head it riseth, and wide and wild is its roar + As it beareth the mighty tidings to the very heavenly floor: + But he rideth through its roaring as the warrior rides the rye, + When it bows with the wind of the summer and the hid spears draw anigh. + The white flame licks his raiment and sweeps through Greyfell's mane, + And bathes both hands of Sigurd and the hilts of Fafnir's bane, + And winds about his war-helm and mingles with his hair, + But nought his raiment dusketh or dims his glittering gear; + Then it fails and fades and darkens till all seems left behind, + And dawn and the blaze is swallowed in mid-mirk stark and blind. + + But forth a little further and a little further on + And all is calm about him, and he sees the scorched earth wan + Beneath a glimmering twilight, and he turns his conquering eyes, + And a ring of pale slaked ashes on the side of Hindfell lies; + And the world of the waste is beyond it; and all is hushed and grey, + And the new-risen moon is a-paleing, and the stars grow faint with day. + + Then Sigurd looked before him and a Shield-burg there he saw, + A wall of the tiles of Odin wrought clear without a flaw, + The gold by the silver gleaming, and the ruddy by the white; + And the blazonings of their glory were done upon them bright. + As of dear things wrought for the war-lords new come to Odin's hall. + Piled high aloft to the heavens uprose that battle-wall, + And far o'er the topmost shield-rim for a banner of fame there hung + A glorious golden buckler; and against the staff it rung + As the earliest wind of dawning uprose on Hindfell's face + And the light from the yellow east beamed soft on the shielded place. + + But the Wrath cried out in answer as Sigurd leapt adown + To the wasted soil of the desert by that rampart of renown; + He looked but little beneath it, and the dwelling of God it seemed, + As against its gleaming silence the eager Sigurd gleamed: + He draweth not sword from scabbard, as the wall he wendeth around, + And it is but the wind and Sigurd that wakeneth any sound: + But, lo, to the gate he cometh, and the doors are open wide, + And no warder the way withstandeth, and no earls by the threshold abide. + So he stands awhile and marvels; then the baleful light of the Wrath + Gleams bare in his ready hand as he wendeth the inward path: + For he doubteth some guile of the Gods, or perchance some Dwarf-king's + snare, + Or a mock of the Giant people that shall fade in the morning air: + But he getteth him in and gazeth; and a wall doth he behold, + And the ruddy set by the white, and the silver by the gold; + But within the garth that it girdeth no work of man is set, + But the utmost head of Hindfell ariseth higher yet; + And below in the very midmost is a Giant-fashioned mound, + Piled high as the rims of the Shield-burg above the level ground; + And there, on that mound of the Giants, o'er the wilderness forlorn, + A pale grey image lieth, and gleameth in the morn. + + So there was Sigurd alone; and he went from the shielded door, + And aloft in the desert of wonder the Light of the Branstock he bore; + And he set his face to the earth-mound, and beheld the image wan, + And the dawn was growing about it; and, lo, the shape of a man + Set forth to the eyeless desert on the tower-top of the world, + High over the cloud-wrought castle whence the windy bolts are hurled. + + * * * * * + + Now over the body he standeth, and seeth it shapen fair, + And clad from head to foot-sole in pale grey-glittering gear, + In a hauberk wrought as straitly as though to the flesh it were grown: + But a great helm hideth the head and is girt with a glittering crown. + + So thereby he stoopeth and kneeleth, for he deems it were good indeed + If the breath of life abide there and the speech to help at need; + And as sweet as the summer wind from a garden under the sun + Cometh forth on the topmost Hindfell the breath of that sleeping-one. + Then he saith he will look on the face, if it bear him love or hate, + Or the bonds for his life's constraining, or the sundering doom of fate. + So he draweth the helm from the head, and, lo, the brow snow-white, + And the smooth unfurrowed cheeks, and the wise lips breathing light; + And the face of a woman it is, and the fairest that ever was born, + Shown forth to the empty heavens and the desert world forlorn: + But he looketh, and loveth her sore, and he longeth her spirit to move, + And awaken her heart to the world, that she may behold him and love. + And he toucheth her breast and her hands, and he loveth her passing sore. + And he saith: "Awake! I am Sigurd;" but she moveth never the more. + Then he looked on his bare bright blade, and he said: "Thou--what wilt thou + do? + For indeed as I came by the war-garth thy voice of desire I knew." + Bright burnt the pale blue edges for the sunrise drew anear, + And the rims of the Shield-burg glittered, and the east was exceeding clear: + So the eager edges he setteth to the Dwarf-wrought battle-coat + Where the hammered ring-knit collar constraineth the woman's throat; + But the sharp Wrath biteth and rendeth, and before it fail the rings, + And, lo, the gleam of the linen, and the light of golden things: + Then he driveth the blue steel onward, and through the skirt, and out, + Till nought but the rippling linen is wrapping her about; + Then he deems her breath comes quicker and her breast begins to heave, + So he turns about the War-Flame and rends down either sleeve, + Till her arms lie white in her raiment, and a river of sun-bright hair + Flows free o'er bosom and shoulder and floods the desert bare. + + Then a flush cometh over her visage and a sigh up-heaveth her breast, + And her eyelids quiver and open, and she wakeneth into rest; + Wide-eyed on the dawning she gazeth, too glad to change or smile, + And but little moveth her body, nor speaketh she yet for a while; + And yet kneels Sigurd moveless her wakening speech to heed, + While soft the waves of the daylight o'er the starless heavens speed, + And the gleaming rims of the Shield-burg yet bright and brighter grow, + And the thin moon hangeth her horns dead-white in the golden glow. + + Then she turned and gazed on Sigurd, and her eyes met the Volsung's eyes. + And mighty and measureless now did the tide of his love arise, + For their longing had met and mingled, and he knew of her heart that she + loved, + As she spake unto nothing but him and her lips with the speech-flood moved: + + "O, what is the thing so mighty that my weary sleep hath torn, + And rent the fallow bondage, and the wan woe over-worn?" + + He said: "The hand of Sigurd and the Sword of Sigmund's son, + And the heart that the Volsungs fashioned this deed for thee have done." + But she said: "Where then is Odin that laid me here alow? + Long lasteth the grief of the world, and manfolk's tangled woe!" + + "He dwelleth above," said Sigurd, "but I on the earth abide, + And I came from the Glittering Heath the waves of thy fire to ride." + + * * * * * + + Then Sigurd looketh upon her, and the words from his heart arise: + "Thou art the fairest of earth, and the wisest of the wise; + O who art thou that lovest? I am Sigurd, e'en as I told; + I have slain the Foe of the Gods, and gotten the Ancient Gold; + And great were the gain of thy love, and the gift of mine earthly days, + If we twain should never sunder as we wend on the changing ways. + O who art thou that lovest, thou fairest of all things born? + And what meaneth thy sleep and thy slumber in the wilderness forlorn?" + +Then the maiden told him that she had been the handmaid of the +All-father, but that she grew too proud, and Odin had sent her to +Hindfell, where the sleep thorn pierced her that she might sleep till +she found the fearless heart she would wed. Such a one had she found +now, and many were the words of prophetic wisdom and warning that +fell from her lips on the ears of Sigurd. + +But many though they were they were not enough for him, who prayed +her to speak with him more of Wisdom. + +So together they sat on the side of Hindfell and talked of all that is +and can be, and then together they climbed the mountain, till beneath +them they saw the kingdoms of the earth stretching far away, and +Brynhild bade him look down on her home, saying: + + "Yet I bid thee look on the land 'twixt the wood and the silver sea + In the bight of the swirling river, and the house that cherished me! + There dwelleth mine earthly sister and the king that she hath wed; + There morn by morn aforetime I woke on the golden bed; + There eve by eve I tarried mid the speech and the lays of kings; + There noon by noon I wandered and plucked the blossoming things; + The little land of Lymdale by the swirling river's side, + Where Brynhild once was I called in the days ere my father died; + The little land of Lymdale 'twixt the woodland and the sea, + Where on thee mine eyes shall brighten and thine eyes shall beam on me." + + "I shall seek thee there," said Sigurd, "when the day-spring is begun, + Ere we wend the world together in the season of the sun." + + "I shall bide thee there," said Brynhild, "till the fulness of the days, + And the time for the glory appointed, and the springing-tide of praise." + + From his hand then draweth Sigurd Andvari's ancient Gold; + There is nought but the sky above them as the ring together they hold, + The shapen ancient token, that hath no change nor end, + No change, and no beginning, no flaw for God to mend: + Then Sigurd cries: "O Brynhild, now hearken while I swear, + That the sun shall die in the heavens and the day no more be fair, + If I seek not love in Lymdale and the house that fostered thee, + And the land where thou awakedst 'twixt the woodland and the sea!" + + And she cried: "O Sigurd, Sigurd, now hearken while I swear + That the day shall die for ever and the sun to blackness wear, + Ere I forget thee, Sigurd, as I lie 'twixt wood and sea + In the little land of Lymdale and the house that fostered me!" + + Then he set the ring on her finger and once, if ne'er again, + They kissed and clung together, and their hearts were full and fain. + + * * * * * + + + + +BOOK III. + +BRYNHILD. + + +_Of Sigurd's riding to the Niblungs._ + + +Now Brynhild and Sigurd left Hindfell, and Brynhild went to dwell in +her sister's house, but Sigurd abode not long in the land of Lymdale, +for his love urged him to great adventures wherein he might win glory +befitting the man who should wed so noble a woman as Brynhild. + +So it befell one day in summer that he dight himself in the Helm of +Aweing and the Mail-coat all of gold, and girded the Wrath to his side +to ride forth again. And on his saddle he bound the red rings of +Fafnir's Treasure. + +Then he kissed the ancient King Heimir, and hailed the folk of the +land who came to give him god-speed. + + And he gathered the reins together, and set his face to the road, + And the glad steed neighed beneath him as they fared from the King's abode. + And out past the dewy closes; but the shouts went up to the sky, + Though some for very sorrow forbore the farewell cry, + Nor was any man but heavy that the godlike guest should go; + And they craved for that glad heart guileless, and that face without a foe. + + * * * * * + + But forth by dale and lealand doth the Son of Sigmund wend, + Till far away lies Lymdale and the folk of the forest's end; + And he rides a heath unpeopled and holds the westward way, + Till a long way off before him come up the mountains grey; + Grey, huge beyond all telling, and the host of the heaped clouds, + The black and the white together, on that rock-wall's coping crowds. + + * * * * * + + So up and down he rideth, till at even of the day + A hill's brow he o'ertoppeth that had hid the mountains grey; + Huge, blacker they showed than aforetime, white hung the cloud-flecks there, + But red was the cloudy crown, for the sun was sinking fair: + A wide plain lay beneath him, and a river through it wound + Betwixt the lea and the acres, and the misty orchard ground; + But forth from the feet of the mountains a ridged hill there ran + That upreared at its hithermost ending a builded burg of man; + And Sigurd deemed in his heart as he looked on the burg from afar, + That the high Gods scarce might win it, if thereon they fell with war; + So many and great were the walls, so bore the towers on high + The threat of guarded battle, and the tale of victory. + + * * * * * + + For as waves on the iron river of the days whereof nothing is told + Stood up the many towers, so stark and sharp and cold; + But dark-red and worn and ancient as the midmost mountain-sides + Is the wall that goeth about them; and its mighty compass hides + Full many a dwelling of man whence the reek now goeth aloft, + And the voice of the house-abiders, the sharp sounds blent with the soft: + But one house in the midst is unhidden and high up o'er the wall it goes; + Aloft in the wind of the mountains its golden roof-ridge glows, + And down mid its buttressed feet is the wind's voice never still; + And the day and the night pass o'er it and it changes to their will, + And whiles is it glassy and dark, and whiles is it white and dead, + And whiles is it grey as the sea-mead, and whiles is it angry red; + And it shimmers under the sunshine and grows black to the threat of the + storm, + And dusk its gold roof glimmers when the rain-clouds over it swarm, + And bright in the first of the morning its flame doth it uplift, + When the light clouds rend before it and along its furrows drift. + +Then Sigurd's heart was glad as he beheld the city, and after a while +he came to a gate-way set in the northern wall, and the gate was long +and dark as a sea-cave. But no man stayed him as he rode through the +dusk to the inner court-yard, and saw the lofty roof of the hall +before him, cold now and grey like a very cloud, for the sun was +fully set. But in the towers watch-men were calling one to another. +To them he cried, saying:-- + + "Ho, men of this mighty burg, to what folk of the world am I come? + And who is the King of battles who dwells in this lordly home? + Or perchance are ye of the Elf-kin? are ye guest-fain, kind at the board, + Or murder-churls and destroyers to gain and die by the sword?" + Then the spears in the forecourt glittered and the swords shone over the + wall, + But the song of smitten harp-strings came faint from the cloudy hall. + And he hearkened a voice and a crying: "The house of Giuki the King, + And the Burg of the Niblung people and the heart of their warfaring." + There were many men about him, and the wind in the wall-nook sang, + And the spears of the Niblungs glittered, and the swords in the forecourt + rang. + But they looked on his face in the even, and they hushed their voices and + gazed, + For fear and great desire the hearts of men amazed. + + Now cometh an earl to King Giuki as he sits in godlike wise + With his sons, the Kings of battle, and his wife of the glittering eyes, + And the King cries out at his coming to tell why the watch-horns blew; + But the earl saith: "Lord of the people, choose now what thou wilt do; + For here is a strange new-comer, and he saith, to thee alone + Will he tell of his name and his kindred, and the deeds that his hand hath + done." + + * * * * * + + Then uprose the King of the Niblungs, and was clad in purple and pall, + And his sheathed sword lay in his hand, as he gat him adown the hall, + And abroad through the Niblung doorway; and a mighty man he was, + And wise and ancient of days: so there by the earls doth he pass, + And beholdeth the King on the war-steed and looketh up in his face: + But Sigurd smileth upon him in the Niblungs' fenced place, + As the King saith: "Gold-bestrider, who into our garth wouldst ride, + Wilt thou tell thy name to a King, who biddeth thee here abide + And have all good at our hands? for unto the Niblungs' home + And the heart of a war-fain people from the weary road are ye come; + And I am Giuki the King: so now if thou nam'st thee a God, + Look not to see me tremble; for I know of such that have trod + Unfeared in the Burg of the Niblungs; nor worser, nor better at all + May fare the folk of the Gods than the Kings in Giuki's hall; + So I bid thee abide in my house, and when many days are o'er, + Thou shalt tell us at last of thine errand, if thou bear us peace or war." + + Then all rejoiced at his word till the swords on the bucklers rang, + And adown from the red-gold Treasure the Son of Sigmund sprang, + And he took the hand of Giuki, and kissed him soft and sweet, + And spake: "Hail, ancient of days! for thou biddest me things most meet, + And thou knowest the good from the evil: few days are over and gone + Since my father was old in the world ere the deed of my making was won; + But Sigmund the Volsung he was, full ripe of years and of fame; + And I, who have never beheld him, am Sigurd called of name; + Too young in the world am I waxen that a tale thereof should be told, + And yet have I slain the Serpent, and gotten the Ancient Gold, + And broken the bonds of the weary, and ridden the Wavering Fire. + But short is mine errand to tell, and the end of my desire: + For peace I bear unto thee, and to all the kings of the earth, + Who bear the sword aright, and are crowned with the crown of worth; + But unpeace to the lords of evil, and the battle and the death; + And the edge of the sword to the traitor, and the flame to the slanderous + breath: + And I would that the loving were loved, and I would that the weary should + sleep, + And that man should hearken to man, and that he that soweth should reap. + Now wide in the world would I fare, to seek the dwellings of Kings, + For with them would I do and undo, and be heart of their warfarings; + So I thank thee, lord, for thy bidding, and here in thine house will I bide, + And learn of thine ancient wisdom till forth to the field we ride." + + Glad then was the murmur of folk, for the tidings had gone forth, + And its breath had been borne to the Niblungs, and the tale of Sigurd's + worth. + + But the King said: "Welcome, Sigurd, full fair of deed and of word! + And here mayst thou win thee fellows for the days of the peace and the + sword; + For not lone in the world have I lived, but sons from my loins have sprung, + Whose deeds with the rhyme are mingled, and their names with the people's + tongue." + + Then he took his hand in his hand, and into the hall they passed, + And great shouts of salutation to the cloudy roof were cast; + And they rang from the glassy pillars, and the Gods on the hangings stirred, + And afar the clustering eagles on the golden roof-ridge heard, + And cried out on the Sword of the Branstock as they cried in the other days: + Then the harps rang out in the hall, and men sang in Sigurd's praise + + * * * * * + + But now on the dais he meeteth the kin of Giuki the wise: + Lo, here is the crowned Grimhild, the queen of the glittering eyes; + Lo, here is the goodly Gunnar with the face of a king's desire; + Lo, here is Hogni that holdeth the wisdom tried in the fire; + Lo, here is Guttorm the youngest, who longs for the meeting swords; + Lo, here, as a rose in the oak-boughs, amid the Niblung lords + Is the Maid of the Niblungs standing, the white-armed Giuki's child; + And all these looked long on Sigurd and their hearts upon him smiled. + +Then all gave him greeting as one who should be their fellow in mighty +deeds, and the fair-armed Gudrun, Giuki's daughter, brought him a cup +of welcome, and that night the Niblungs feasted in gladness of heart. + + +_Of Sigurd's warfaring in the company of the Niblungs, and of his great +fame and glory._ + +So Sigurd abode with the Niblungs all through summer and harvest time +till with the stark midwinter came tidings of war. Then the earls of +Giuki donned dusky hauberks and led forth their bands from the +fortress, and the fair face and golden gear of Sigurd shone among +those swart-haired warriors. + +They fell on the cities of the plains, but none might resist the +valour of Sigurd, and the Niblungs turned in triumph from the war, +bringing rich spoil. So all that winter Sigurd fared to war with them +and grew greater in glory and more beloved of all men, but ever the +thoughts of his heart turned to Lymdale and to Brynhild who awaited +him there. + + Now sheathed is the Wrath of Sigurd; for as wax withstands the flame, + So the Kings of the land withstood him and the glory of his fame. + And before the grass is growing, or the kine have fared from the stall, + The song of the fair-speech-masters goes up in the Niblung hall, + And they sing of the golden Sigurd and the face without a foe, + And the lowly man exalted and the mighty brought alow: + And they say, when the sun of summer shall come aback to the land, + It shall shine on the fields of the tiller that fears no heavy hand; + That the sheaf shall be for the plougher, and the loaf for him that sowed, + Through every furrowed acre where the son of Sigmund rode. + + Full dear was Sigurd the Volsung to all men most and least, + And now, as the spring drew onward, 'twas deemed a goodly feast + For the acre-biders' children by the Niblung Burg to wait, + If perchance the Son of Sigmund should ride abroad by the gate: + For whosoever feared him, no little-one, forsooth, + Would shrink from the shining eyes and the hand that clave out truth + From the heart of the wrack and the battle: it was then, as his gold gear + burned + O'er the balks of the bridge and the river, that oft the mother turned, + And spake to the laughing baby: "O little son, and dear, + When I from the world am departed, and whiles a-nights ye hear + The best of man-folk longing for the least of Sigurd's days, + Thou shalt hearken to their story, till they tell forth all his praise, + And become beloved and a wonder, as thou sayest when all is sung, + 'And I too once beheld him in the days when I was young.'" + + * * * * * + + Yea, they sing the song of Sigurd and the face without a foe, + And they sing of the prison's rending and the tyrant laid alow, + And the golden thieves' abasement, and the stilling of the churl, + And the mocking of the dastard where the chasing edges whirl; + And they sing of the outland maidens that thronged round Sigurd's hand, + And sung in the streets of the foemen of the war-delivered land; + And they tell how the ships of the merchants come free and go at their will, + And how wives in peace and safety may crop the vine-clad hill; + How the maiden sits in her bower, and the weaver sings at his loom, + And forget the kings of grasping and the greedy days of gloom; + For by sea and hill and township hath the Son of Sigmund been, + And looked on the folk unheeded, and the lowly people seen. + + * * * * * + + But he stood in the sight of the people, and sweet he was to see, + And no foe and no betrayer, and no envier now hath he: + But Gunnar the bright in the battle deems him his earthly friend, + And Hogni is fain of his fellow, howso the day's work end, + And Guttorm the young is joyous of the help and gifts he hath; + And all these would shine beside him in the glory of his path; + There is none to hate or hinder, or mar the golden day, + And the light of love flows plenteous, as the sun-beams hide the way. + + +_Of the Cup of evil drink that Grimhild the Wise-wife gave to Sigurd._ + +Now Gudrun the daughter of Giuki beheld Sigurd's glory and knew the +kindness of his heart, and set her love on him, not knowing that all +his thoughts were given to Brynhild. So Sigurd, seeing her sad and in +no wise guessing the cause of her grief, strove to comfort her with +kindly words, but her mood was still unchanged. + +Then Grimhild the Queen, who was a witch-wife and a woman of crafty +mind, marked the love of Gudrun for Sigurd, and marked moreover how +his power and honour in the land would soon be greater than that of +her own sons. Therefore she cast about for some shift that might bind +Sigurd to serve with the Niblungs all his life-days. + +Now it befell one night that Sigurd had returned from warring and sat +on the high-seat to sup with the Niblung kings. His heart was merry +with victory and ever he thought of Hindfell and of Lymdale and the +love of Brynhild. The people waxed joyful, and the hangings whereon +glowed figures of the gods were stirred with their song and shouting +till Giuki called on Sigurd to take the harp and sing of deeds agone. +Then all men hearkened, hushed and happy, while Sigurd struck the +strings and sang of his mighty kin, of Volsung, of Signy, and of +Sigmund, their deeds and noble deaths. At last the tale was ended and +he fell silent thinking still of Brynhild. + +Now came Grimhild bearing him a cup of wine and speaking fair words +of praise, but in the wine she had mingled a fatal witch-drink. So +she stood by Sigurd and said:-- + + "There is none of the kings of kingdoms that may match thy goodlihead: + Lo now, thou hast sung of thy fathers; but men shall sing of thee, + And therewith shall our house be remembered, and great shall our glory be. + I beseech thee hearken a little to a faithful word of mine, + When thou of this cup hast drunken; for my love is blent with the wine." + + He laughed and took the cup: But therein with the blood of the earth + Earth's hidden might was mingled, and deeds of the cold sea's birth, + And things that the high Gods turn from, and a tangle of strange love, + Deep guile and strong compelling, that whoso drank thereof + Should remember not his longing, should cast his love away, + Remembering dead desire but as night remembereth day. + + So Sigurd looked on the horn, and he saw how fair it was scored + With the cunning of the Dwarf-kind and the masters of the sword; + And he drank and smiled on Grimhild above the beaker's rim, + And she looked and laughed at his laughter; and the soul was changed in him. + Men gazed and their hearts sank in them, and they knew not why it was, + Why the fair-lit hall was darkling, nor what had come to pass: + For they saw the sorrow of Sigurd, who had seen but his deeds erewhile, + And the face of the mighty darkened, who had known but the light of its + smile. + + But Grimhild looked and was merry: and she deemed her life was great, + And her hand a wonder of wonders to withstand the deeds of Fate: + For she saw by the face of Sigurd and the token of his eyes + That her will had abased the valiant, and filled the faithful with lies. + + * * * * * + + But the heart was changed in Sigurd; as though it ne'er had been + His love of Brynhild perished as he gazed on the Niblung Queen: + Brynhild's beloved body was e'en as a wasted hearth, + No more for bale or blessing, for plenty or for dearth. + --O ye that shall look hereafter, when the day of Sigurd is done, + And the last of his deeds is accomplished, and his eyes are shut in the sun, + When ye look and long for Sigurd, and the image of Sigurd behold, + And his white sword still as the moon, and his strong hand heavy and cold, + Then perchance shall ye think of this even, then perchance shall ye wonder + and cry, + "Twice over, King, are we smitten, and twice have we seen thee die." + + * * * * * + + Men say that a little after the evil of that night + All waste is the burg of Brynhild, and there springeth a marvellous light + On the desert hard by Lymdale, and few men know for why; + But there are, who say that a wildfire thence roareth up to the sky + Round a glorious golden dwelling, wherein there sitteth a Queen + In remembrance of the wakening, and the slumber that hath been; + Wherein a Maid there sitteth, who knows not hope nor rest + For remembrance of the Mighty, and the Best come forth from the Best. + +Now after Sigurd took the witch-drink came a great hush upon the +feast-hall for a space. But Grimhild was fain of that hour and cried +to the scalds for music, and they hastened to strike the harp, but no +joy mingled with the sounds and no man was moved to singing. + +No word spake Sigurd till the feast was over; then he strode out +alone from the hall and the folk fell back before him. So he took a +steed and all that night he rode alone in the deedless dark, and all +the morrow, very heavy at heart yet knowing no cause for grief, and +remembering all things save Brynhild. + +At last he came again at sunset to the Niblung gates, and there came +forth Giuki and Grimhild and the Niblung brethren with fair words of +greeting, but in the doorway Gudrun stood and wept. So Sigurd entered +with them, yet he knew that a flood of sorrow had come on his +life-days and that no more might he feel the joy he had known +aforetime in the Niblung hall. Howbeit, when he looked on the people +and saw them in fear at his trouble, the kindness of his heart was +kindled, and thrusting the heavy sorrow aside, he lifted his head and +spake wise words of good cheer so that the folk looking on him were +comforted. + + +_Of the Wedding of Sigurd the Volsung._ + +But Gudrun knew Sigurd's heart and was sorrowful because of his grief +and her great love for him, and when Grimhild bade her carry him wine, +she arose and took the cup but could find no word to speak for +anguish. And Sigurd looking on her face saw there a kindness and a +sorrow like his own, and seeing it he knew that she loved him. Then +pity and love for her rose in his heart and comforted him, and he +took the cup from her and spake, saying:-- + + "Here are glad men about us, and a joyous folk of war, + And they that have loved thee for long, and they that have cherished mine + heart; + But we twain alone are woeful, as sad folk sitting apart. + Ah, if I thy soul might gladden! if thy lips might give me peace! + Then belike were we gladdest of all; for I love thee more than these. + The cup of goodwill that thou bearest, and the greeting thou wouldst say, + Turn these to the cup of thy love, and the words of the troth-plighting day; + The love that endureth for ever, and the never-dying troth, + To face the Norns' undoing, and the Gods amid their wrath." + + * * * * * + + And his clear voice saith: + "O Gudrun, now hearken while I swear + That the sun shall die for ever and the day no more be fair, + Ere I forget thy pity and thine inmost heart of love! + Yea, though the Kings be mighty, and the Gods be great above, + I will wade the flood and the fire, and the waste of war forlorn, + To look on the Niblung dwelling, and the house where thou wert born." + + Strange seemed the words to Sigurd that his gathering love compelled, + And sweet and strange desire o'er his tangled trouble welled. + + But bright flashed the eyes of Gudrun, and she said: "King, as for me, + If thou sawest the heart in my bosom, what oath might better thee? + Yet my words thy words shall cherish, as thy lips my lips have done. + --Herewith I swear, O Sigurd, that the earth shall hate the sun, + And the year desire but darkness, and the blossoms shrink from day, + Ere my love shall fail, beloved, or my longing pass away!" + +So they twain went hand in hand to stand before Giuki and Grimhild +and the swart-haired Niblung brethren, and all these were +glad-hearted when they marked their joy and goodlihead. Then Sigurd +spake noble words of thanks to Giuki for all past kindness, and bade +Giuki call him son because he had that day bidden Gudrun to wife, and +he sware also to toil for her exalting and for the weal of all the +Niblung kin. Thereto Giuki answered glad-hearted, "Hail, Sigurd, son +of mine eld!" and called upon Grimhild the Queen to bless him. + +Thus was Sigurd troth-plight to the white-armed Gudrun, and all men +were fain of their love and spake nought but praise of him. + + Hark now, on the morrow morning how the blast of the mighty horn + From the builded Burg of the Niblungs goes over the acres shorn, + And the roads are gay with the riders, and the bull in the stall is left, + And the plough is alone in the furrow, and the wedge in the hole half-cleft; + And late shall the ewes be folded, and the kine come home to the pail, + And late shall the fires be litten in the outmost treeless dale: + For men fare to the gate of Giuki and the ancient cloudy hall, + And therein are the earls assembled and the kings wear purple and pall, + And the flowers are spread beneath them, and the bench-cloths beaten with + gold; + And the walls are strange and wondrous with the noble stories told: + For new-hung is the ancient dwelling with the golden spoils of the south, + And men seem merry for ever, and the praise is in each man's mouth, + And the name of Sigurd the Volsung, the King and the Serpent's Bane, + Who exalteth the high this morning and blesseth the masters of gain: + For men drink the bridal of Sigurd and the white-armed Niblung maid, + And the best with the best shall be mingled, and the gold with the gold + o'erlaid. + + So, fair in the hall is the feasting and men's hearts are uplifted on high, + And they deem that the best of their life-days are surely drawing anigh, + As now, one after other, uprise the scalds renowned, + And their well-beloved voices awake the hoped-for sound, + In the midmost of the high-tide, and the joy of feasting lords. + Then cometh a hush and a waiting, and the light of many swords + Flows into the hall of Giuki by the doorway of the King, + And amid those flames of battle the war-clad warriors bring + The Cup of daring Promise and the hallowed Boar of Son, + And men's hearts grow big with longing and great is the hope-tide grown; + For bright the Son of Sigmund ariseth by the board + And unwinds the knitted peace-strings that hamper Regin's Sword: + Then fierce is the light on the high-seat as men set down the Cup + Anigh the hand of Sigurd, and the edges blue rise up, + And fall on the hallowed Wood-beast: as a trump of the woeful war + Rings the voice of the mighty Volsung as he speaks the words of yore: + + "By the Earth that groweth and giveth, and by all the Earth's increase + That is spent for Gods and man-folk; by the sun that shines on these; + By the Salt-Sea-Flood that beareth the life and death of men; + By the Heavens and Stars that change not, though earth die out again; + By the wild things of the mountain, and the houseless waste and lone; + By the prey of the Goths in the thicket and the holy Beast of Son, + I hallow me to Odin for a leader of his host, + To do the deeds of the Highest, and never count the cost: + And I swear, that whatso great-one shall show the day and the deed, + I shall ask not why nor wherefore, but the sword's desire shall speed: + And I swear to seek no quarrel, nor to swerve aside for aught, + Though the right and the left be blooming, and the straight way wend to + nought: + And I swear to abide and hearken the prayer of any thrall, + Though the war-torch be on the threshold and the foemen's feet in the hall: + And I swear to sit on my throne in the guise of the kings of the earth, + Though the anguish past amending, and the unheard woe have birth: + And I swear to wend in my sorrow that none shall curse mine eyes + For the scowl that quelleth beseeching, and the hate that scorneth the wise. + So help me Earth and Heavens, and the Under-sky and Seas, + And the Stars in their ordered houses, and the Norns that order these!" + + And he drank of the Cup of the Promise, and fair as a star he shone, + And all men rejoiced and wondered, and deemed Earth's glory won. + + Then came the girded maidens, and the slim earls' daughters poured, + And uprose the dark-haired Gunnar and bare was the Niblung sword; + Blue it gleamed in the hand of the folk-king as he laid it low on the Beast, + And took oath as the Goths of aforetime in the hush of the people's feast: + "I will work for the craving of Kings, and accomplish the will of the great, + Nor ask what God withstandeth, nor hearken the tales of fate; + When a King my life hath exalted, and wrought for my hope and my gain, + For every deed he hath done me, thereto shall I fashion twain. + I shall bear forth the fame of the Niblungs through all that hindereth; + In my life shall I win great glory, and be merry in my death." + + So sweareth the lovely war-king and drinketh of the Cup, + And the joy of the people waxeth and their glad cry goeth up. + But again came the girded maidens: earls' daughters pour the wine, + And bare is the blade of Hogni in the feast-hall over the Swine; + Then he cries o'er the hallowed Wood-beast: "Earth, hearken, how I swear, + To beseech no man for his helping, and to vex no God with prayer; + And to seek out the will of the Norns, and look in the eyes of the curse; + And to laugh while the love aboundeth, lest the glad world grow into worse; + Then if in the murder I laugh not, O Earth, remember my name, + And oft tell it aloud to the people for the Niblungs' fated shame!" + + Then he drank of the Cup of the Promise, and all men hearkened and deemed + That his speech was great and valiant, and as one of the wise he seemed. + + Then the linen-folded maidens of the earl-folk lift the gold, + But the earls look each on the other, and Guttorm's place behold, + And empty it lieth before them; for the child hath wearied of peace, + And he sits by the oars in the East-seas, and winneth fame's increase. + Nor then, nor ever after, o'er the Holy Beast he spake, + When mighty hearts were exalted for the golden Sigurd's sake. + + +_Sigurd rideth with the Niblungs, and wooeth Brynhild for King Gunnar._ + + Now it fell on a day of the spring-tide that followed on these things, + That Sigurd fares to the meadows with Gunnar and Hogni the Kings; + For afar is Guttorm the youngest, and he sails the Eastern Seas, + And fares with war-shield hoisted to win him fame's increase. + + * * * * * + + There stay those Kings of the people alone in weed of war, + And they cut a strip of the greensward on the meadow's daisied floor, + And loosen it clean in the midst, while its ends in the earth abide; + Then they heave its midmost aloft, and set on either side + An ancient spear of battle writ round with words of worth; + And these are the posts of the door, whose threshold is of the earth, + And the skin of the earth is its lintel: but with war-glaives gleaming bare + The Niblung Kings and Sigurd beneath the earth-yoke fare; + Then each an arm-vein openeth, and their blended blood falls down + On Earth the fruitful Mother where they rent her turfy gown: + And then, when the blood of the Volsungs hath run with the Niblung blood, + They kneel with their hands upon it and swear the brotherhood: + Each man at his brother's bidding to come with the blade in his hand, + Though the fire and the flood should sunder, and the very Gods withstand: + Each man to love and cherish his brother's hope and will; + Each man to avenge his brother when the Norns his fate fulfill: + And now are they foster-brethren, and in such wise have they sworn + As the God-born Goths of aforetime, when the world was newly born. + But among the folk of the Niblungs goes forth the tale of the same, + And men deem the tidings a glory and the garland of their fame. + + So is Sigurd yet with the Niblungs, and he loveth Gudrun his wife, + And wendeth afield with the brethren to the days of the dooming of life; + And nought his glory waneth, nor falleth the flood of praise: + To every man he hearkeneth, nor gainsayeth any grace, + And glad is the poor in the Doom-ring when he seeth his face mid the Kings, + For the tangle straighteneth before him, and the maze of crooked things. + But the smile is departed from him, and the laugh of Sigurd the young, + And of few words now is he waxen, and his songs are seldom sung. + Howbeit of all the sad-faced was Sigurd loved the best; + And men say: Is the king's heart mighty beyond all hope of rest? + Lo, how he beareth the people! how heavy their woes are grown! + So oft were a God mid the Goth-folk, if he dwelt in the world alone. + +Now Giuki the king was long grown old, and he died and was buried +beneath a great earth-mound high on the mountains. + + So there lieth Giuki the King, mid steel and the glimmer of gold, + As the sound of the feastful Niblungs round his misty house is rolled: + But Gunnar is King of the people, and the chief of the Niblung land; + A man beloved for his mercy, and his might and his open hand; + A glorious king in the battle, a hearkener at the doom, + A singer to sing the sun up from the heart of the midnight gloom. + + On a day sit the Kings in the high-seat when Grimhild saith to her son: + "O Gunnar, King beloved, a fair life hast thou won; + On the flood, in the field hast thou wrought, and hung the chambers with + gold; + Far abroad mid many a people are the tidings of thee told: + Now do a deed for thy mother and the hallowed Niblung hearth, + Lest the house of the mighty perish, and our tale grow wan with dearth. + If thou do the deed that I bid thee, and wed a wife of the Kings, + No less shalt thou cleave the war-helms and scatter the ruddy rings." + + He said: "Meseemeth, mother, thou speakest not in haste, + But hast sought and found beforehand, lest thy fair words fall to waste." + + She said: "Thou sayest the sooth; I have found the thing I sought: + A Maid for thee is shapen, and a Queen for thee is wrought: + In the waste land hard by Lymdale a marvellous hall is built, + With its roof of the red gold beaten, and its wall-stones over-gilt: + Afar o'er the heath men see it, but no man draweth nigher, + For the garth that goeth about it is nought but the roaring fire, + A white wall waving aloft; and no window nor wicket is there, + Whereby the shielded earl-folk or the sons of the merchants may fare: + But few things from me are hidden, and I know in that hall of gold + Sits Brynhild, white as a wild-swan where the foamless seas are rolled; + And the daughter of Kings of the world, and the sister of Queens is she, + And wise, and Odin's Chooser, and the Breath of Victory: + But for this cause sitteth she thus in the ring of the Wavering Flame, + That no son of the Kings will she wed save the mightiest master of fame, + And the man who knoweth not fear, and the man foredoomed of fate + To ride through her Wavering Fire to the door of her golden gate: + And for him she sitteth and waiteth, and him shall she cherish and love, + Though the Kings of the world should withstand it, and the Gods that sit + above. + Speak thou, O mighty Gunnar!--nay rather, Sigurd my son, + Say who but the lord of the Niblungs should wed with this glorious one?" + + Long Sigurd gazeth upon her, and slow he sayeth again: + "I know thy will, my mother; of all the sons of men, + Of all the Kings unwedded, and the kindred of the great, + It is meet that my brother Gunnar should ride to her golden gate." + + * * * * * + + In the May-morn riseth Gunnar with fair face and gleaming eyes, + And he calleth on Sigurd his brother, and he calleth on Hogni the wise: + "Today shall we fare to the wooing, for so doth our mother bid; + We shall go to gaze on marvels, and things from the King-folk hid." + + So they do on the best of their war-gear, and their steeds are dight for the + road, + And forth to the sun neigheth Greyfell as he neighed 'neath the Golden Load: + But or ever they leap to the saddle, while yet in the door they stand, + Thereto cometh Grimhild the wise-wife, and on each head layeth her hand, + As she saith: "Be mighty and wise, as the kings that came before! + For they knew of the ways of the Gods, and the craft of the Gods they bore: + And they knew how the shapes of man-folk are the very images + Of the hearts that abide within them, and they knew of the shaping of these. + Be wise and mighty, O Kings, and look in mine heart and behold + The craft that prevaileth o'er semblance, and the treasured wisdom of old! + I hallow you thus for the day, and I hallow you thus for the night, + And I hallow you thus for the dawning with my fathers' hidden might. + Go now, for ye bear my will while I sit in the hall and spin; + And tonight shall be the weaving, and tomorn the web shall ye win." + + So they leap to the saddles aloft, and they ride and speak no word, + But the hills and the dales are awakened by the clink of the sheathed sword: + None looks in the face of the other, but the earth and the heavens gaze, + And behold those kings of battle ride down the dusty ways. + + So they come to the Waste of Lymdale when the afternoon is begun, + And afar they see the flame-blink on the grey sky under the sun: + And they spur and speak no word, and no man to his fellow will turn; + But they see the hills draw upward and the earth beginning to burn: + And they ride, and the eve is coming, and the sun hangs low o'er the earth, + And the red flame roars up to it from the midst of the desert's dearth. + None turns or speaks to his brother, but the Wrath gleams bare and red, + And blood-red is the Helm of Aweing on the golden Sigurd's head, + And bare is the blade of Gunnar, and the first of the three he rides, + And the wavering wall is before him and the golden sun it hides. + + Then the heart of a king's son failed not, but he tossed his sword on high + And laughed as he spurred for the fire, and cried the Niblung cry; + But the mare's son saw and imagined, and the battle-eager steed, + That so oft had pierced the spear-hedge and never failed at need, + Shrank back, and shrieked in his terror, and spite of spur and rein + Fled fast as the foals unbitted on Odin's pasturing plain; + Wide then he wheeled with Gunnar, but with hand and knee he dealt, + And the voice of a lord beloved, till the steed his master felt, + And bore him back to the brethren; by Greyfell Sigurd stood, + And stared at the heart of the fire, and his helm was red as blood; + But Hogni sat in his saddle, and watched the flames up-roll; + And he said: "Thy steed has failed thee that was once the noblest foal + In the pastures of King Giuki; but since thine heart fails not, + And thou wouldst not get thee backward and say, The fire was hot, + And the voices pent within it were singing nought but death, + Let Sigurd lend thee his steed that wore the Glittering Heath, + And carried the Bed of the Serpent, and the ancient ruddy rings. + So perchance may the mocks be lesser when men tell of the Niblung Kings." + + Then Sigurd looked on the twain, and he saw their swart hair wave + In the wind of the waste and the flame-blast, and no answer awhile he gave. + But at last he spake: "O brother, on Greyfell shalt thou ride, + And do on the Helm of Aweing and gird the Wrath to thy side, + And cover thy breast with the war-coat that is throughly woven of gold, + That hath not its like in the heavens nor has earth of its fellow told: + For this is the raiment of Kings when they ride the Flickering Fire, + And so sink the flames before them and the might of their desire." + + Then Hogni laughed in his heart, and he said: "This changing were well + If so might the deed be accomplished; but perchance there is more to tell: + Thou shalt take the war-steed, Gunnar, and enough or nought it shall be: + But the coal-blue gear of the Niblungs the golden hall shall see." + Then Sigurd looked on the speaker, as one who would answer again, + But his words died out on the waste and the fire-blast made them vain. + Then he casteth the reins to his brother, and Gunnar praiseth his gift, + And springeth aloft to the saddle as the fair sun fails from the lift; + And Sigurd looks on the burden that Greyfell doth uprear, + The huge king towering upward in the dusky Niblung gear: + There sits the eager Gunnar, and his heart desires the deed, + And of nought he recketh and thinketh, but a fame-stirred warrior's need; + But Greyfell trembleth nothing and nought of the fire doth reck: + Then the spurs in his flank are smitten, and the reins lie loose on his + neck, + And the sharp cry springeth from Gunnar--no handbreadth stirred the beast; + The dusk drew on and over and the light of the fire increased, + And still as a shard on the mountain in the sandy dale alone + Was the shape of the cloudy Greyfell, nor moved he more than the stone; + But right through the heart of the fire for ever Sigurd stared, + As he stood in the gold red-litten with the Wrath's thin edges bared. + + No word for a while spake any, till Gunnar leaped to the earth, + And the anger wrought within him, and the fierce words came to birth: + "Who mocketh the King of the Niblungs in the desert land forlorn? + Is it thou, O Sigurd the Stranger? is it thou, O younger-born? + Dost thou laugh in the hall, O Mother? dost thou spin, and laugh at the tale + That has drawn thy son and thine eldest to the sword and the blaze of the + bale? + Or thou, O God of the Goths, wilt thou hide and laugh thy fill, + While the hands of the foster-brethren the blood of brothers spill?" + + But the awful voice of Sigurd across the wild went forth: + "How changed are the words of Gunnar! where wend his ways of worth? + I mock thee not in the desert, as I mocked thee not in the mead, + When I swore beneath the turf-yoke to help thy fondest need: + Nay, strengthen thine heart for the work, for the gift that thy manhood + awaits; + For I give thee a gift, O Niblung, that shall overload the Fates, + And how may a King sustain it? but forbear with the dark to strive; + For thy mother spinneth and worketh, and her craft is awake and alive." + + Then Hogni spake from the saddle: "The time, and the time is come + To gather the might of our mother, and of her that spinneth at home. + Forbear all words, O Gunnar, and anigh to Sigurd stand, + And face to face behold him, and take his hand in thine hand: + Then be thy will as his will, that his heart may mingle with thine, + And the love that he sware 'neath the earth-yoke with thine hope may + intertwine." + + Then the wrath from the Niblung slippeth and the shame that anger hath bred, + And the heavy wings of the dreamtide flit over Gunnar's head: + But he doth by his brother's bidding, and Sigurd's hand he takes, + And he looks in the eyes of the Volsung, though scarce in the desert he + wakes. + There Hogni sits in the saddle aloof from the King's desire, + And little his lips are moving, as he stares on the rolling fire, + And mutters the spells of his mother, and the words she bade him say: + But the craft of the kings of aforetime on those Kings of the battle lay; + Dark night was spread behind them, and the fire flared up before, + And unheard was the wind of the wasteland mid the white flame's wavering + roar. + + Long Sigurd gazeth on Gunnar, till he sees, as through a cloud, + The long black locks of the Niblung, and the King's face set and proud: + Then the face is alone on the dark, and the dusky Niblung mail + Is nought but the night before him: then whiles will the visage fail, + And grow again as he gazeth, black hair and gleaming eyes, + And fade again into nothing, as for more of vision he tries: + Then all is nought but the night, yea the waste of an emptier thing, + And the fire-wall Sigurd forgetteth, nor feeleth the hand of the King: + Nay, what is it now he remembereth? it is nought that aforetime he knew, + And no world is there left him to live in, and no deed to rejoice in or rue; + But frail and alone he fareth, and as one in the sphere-stream's drift, + By the starless empty places that lie beyond the lift: + Then at last is he stayed in his drifting, and he saith, It is blind and + dark; + Yet he feeleth the earth at his feet, and there cometh a change and a spark, + And away in an instant of time is the mirk of the dreamland rolled, + And there is the fire-lit midnight, and before him an image of gold, + A man in the raiment of Gods, nor fashioned worser than they: + Full sad he gazeth on Sigurd from the great wide eyes and grey; + And the Helm that Aweth the people is set on the golden hair, + And the Mail of Gold enwraps him, and the Wrath in his hand is bare. + + Then Sigurd looks on his arm and his hand in his brother's hand, + And thereon is the dark grey mail-gear well forged in the southern land; + Then he looks on the sword that he beareth, and, lo, the eager blade + That leaps in the hand of Gunnar when the kings are waxen afraid; + And he turns his face o'er his shoulder, and the raven-locks hang down + From the dark-blue helm of the Dwarf-folk, and the rings of the Niblung + crown. + + Then a red flush riseth against him in the face ne'er seen before, + Save dimly in the mirror or the burnished targe of war, + And the foster-brethren sunder, and the clasped hands fall apart; + But a change cometh over Sigurd, and the fierce pride leaps in his heart; + He knoweth the soul of Gunnar, and the shaping of his mind; + He seeketh the words of Sigurd, and Gunnar's voice doth he find, + As he cries: "I know thy bidding; let the world be lief or loth, + The child is unborn that shall hearken how Sigurd rued his oath! + Well fare thou brother Gunnar! what deed shall I do this eve + That I shall never repent of, that thine heart shall never grieve? + What deed shall I do this even that none else may bring to the birth, + Nay, not the King of the Niblungs, and the lord of the best of the earth?" + + The flames rolled up to the heavens, and the stars behind were bright, + Dark Hogni sat on his war-steed, and stared out into the night, + And there stood Gunnar the King in Sigurd's semblance wrapped, + --As Sigurd walking in slumber, for in Grimhild's guile was he lapped, + That his heart forgat his glory, and the ways of Odin's lords, + And the thought was frozen within him, and the might of spoken words. + + But Sigurd leapeth on Greyfell, and the sword in his hand is bare, + And the gold spurs flame on his heels, and the fire-blast lifteth his hair; + Forth Greyfell bounds rejoicing, and they see the grey wax red, + As unheard the war-gear clasheth, and the flames meet over his head, + Yet a while they see him riding, as through the rye men ride, + When the word goes forth in the summer of the kings by the ocean-side; + But the fires were slaked before him and the wild-fire burned no more + Than the ford of the summer waters when the rainy time is o'er. + + Not once turned Sigurd aback, nor looked o'er the ashy ring, + To the midnight wilderness drear and the spell-drenched Niblung King: + But he stayed and looked before him, and lo, a house high-built + With its roof of the red gold beaten, and its wall-stones over-gilt: + So he leapt adown from Greyfell, and came to that fair abode, + And dark in the gear of the Niblungs through the gleaming door he strode: + All light within was that dwelling, and a marvellous hall it was, + But of gold were its hangings woven, and its pillars gleaming as glass, + And Sigurd said in his heart, it was wrought erewhile for a God: + But he looked athwart and endlong as alone its floor he trod, + And lo, on the height of the dais is upreared a graven throne, + And thereon a woman sitting in the golden place alone; + Her face is fair and awful, and a gold crown girdeth her head; + And a sword of the kings she beareth, and her sun-bright hair is shed + O'er the laps of the snow-white linen that ripples adown to her feet: + As a swan on the billow unbroken ere the firth and the ocean meet, + On the dark-blue cloths she sitteth, in the height of the golden place, + Nor breaketh the hush of the hall, though her eyes be set on his face. + + Now he sees this is even the woman of whom the tale hath been told, + E'en she that was wrought for the Niblungs, the bride ordained from of old, + And hushed in the hall he standeth, and a long while looks in her eyes, + And the word he hath shapen for Gunnar to his lips may never arise. + + The man in Gunnar's semblance looked long and knew no deed; + And she looked, and her eyes were dreadful, and none would help her need. + Then the image of Gunnar trembled, and the flesh of the War-King shrank; + For he heard her voice on the silence, and his heart of her anguish drank: + + "King, King, who art thou that comest, thou lord of the cloudy gear? + What deed for the weary-hearted shall thy strange hands fashion here?" + + The speech of her lips pierced through him like the point of the bitter + sword, + And he deemed that death were better than another spoken word; + But he clencheth his hand on the war-blade, and setteth his face as the + brass, + And the voice of his brother Gunnar from out his lips doth pass: + "When thou lookest on me, O Goddess, thou seest Gunnar the King, + The King and the lord of the Niblungs, and the chief of their warfaring. + But art thou indeed that Brynhild of whom is the rumour and fame, + That she bideth the coming of kings to ride her Wavering Flame, + Lest she wed the little-hearted, and the world grow evil and vile? + For if thou be none other I will speak again in a while." + + She said: "Art thou Gunnar the Stranger! O art thou the man that I see? + Yea, verily I am Brynhild; what other is like unto me? + O men of the Earth behold me! hast thou seen, O labouring Earth, + Such sorrow as my sorrow, or such evil as my birth?" + + Then spake the Wildfire's Trampler that Gunnar's image bore: + "O Brynhild, mighty of women, be thou glorious evermore! + Thou seest Gunnar the Niblung, as he sits mid the Niblung lords, + And rides with the gods of battle in the fore-front of the swords." + + * * * * * + + Hard rang his voice in the hall, and a while she spake no word, + And there stood the Image of Gunnar, and leaned on his bright blue sword: + But at last she cried from the high-seat: "If I yet am alive and awake, + I know no words for the speaking, nor what answer I may make." + She ceased and he answered nothing; and a hush on the hall there lay + And the moon slipped over the windows as he clomb the heavenly way; + And no whit stirred the raiment of Brynhild: till she hearkened the Wooer's + voice, + As he said: "Thou art none of the women that swear and forswear and rejoice, + Forgetting the sorrow of kings and the Gods and the labouring earth. + Thou shall wed with King Gunnar the Niblung and increase his worth with thy + worth." + + * * * * * + + So spake he in semblance of Gunnar, and from off his hand he drew + A ring of the spoils of the Southland, a marvel seen but of few, + And he set the ring on her finger, and she turned to her lord and spake: + "I thank thee, King, for thy goodwill, and thy pledge of love I take. + Depart with my troth to thy people: but ere full ten days are o'er + I shall come to the Sons of the Niblungs, and then shall we part no more + Till the day of the change of our life-days, when Odin and Freyia shall + call. + Lo, here, my gift of the morning! 'twas my dearest treasure of all; + But thou art become its master, and for thee was it fore-ordained, + Since thou art the man of mine oath and the best that the earth hath + gained." + + And lo, 'twas the Grief of Andvari, and the lack that made him loth, + The last of the God-folk's ransom, the Ring of Hindfell's oath; + Now on Sigurd's hand it shineth, and long he looketh thereon, + But it gave him back no memories of the days that were bygone. + + * * * * * + + So forth from the hall goes the Wooer, and slow and slow he goes, + As a conquered king from his city fares forth to meet his foes; + And he taketh the reins of Greyfell, nor yet will back him there, + But afoot through the cold slaked ashes of yester-eve doth fare, + With his eyes cast down to the earth; till he heareth the wind, and a cry, + And raiseth a face brow-knitted and beholdeth men anigh, + And beholdeth Hogni the King set grey on his coal-black steed, + And beholdeth the image of Sigurd, the King in the golden weed: + Then he stayeth and stareth astonished and setteth his hand to his sword; + Till Hogni cries from his saddle, and his word is a kindly word: + + "Hail, brother, the King of the people! hail, helper of my kin! + Again from the death and the trouble great gifts hast thou set thee to win + For thy friends and the Niblung children, and hast crowned thine earthly + fame, + And increased thine exceeding glory and the sound of thy loved name." + + Nought Sigurd spake in answer but looked straight forth with a frown, + And stretched out his hand to Gunnar, as one that claimeth his own. + Then no word speaketh Gunnar, but taketh his hand in his hand, + And they look in the eyes of each other, and a while in the desert they + stand + Till the might of Grimhild prevaileth, and the twain are as yester-morn; + But sad was the golden Sigurd, though his eyes knew nought of scorn; + And he spake: + "It is finished, O Gunnar! and I will that our brotherhood + May endure through the good and the evil as it sprang in the days of the + good: + But I bid thee look to the ending, that the deed I did yest'reve + Bear nought for me to repent of, for thine heart of hearts to grieve. + Thou art troth-plight, O King of the Niblungs, to Brynhild Queen of the + earth, + She hath sworn thine heart to cherish and increase thy worth with her worth: + She shall come to the house of Gunnar ere ten days are past and o'er; + And thenceforth the life of Brynhild shall part from thy life no more, + Till the doom of our kind shall speed you, and Odin and Freyia shall call, + And ye bide the Day of the Battle, and the uttermost changing of all." + + The praise and thanks they gave him! the words of love they spake! + The tale that the world should hear of, deeds done for Sigurd's sake! + They were lovely might you hear them: but they lack; for in very deed + Their sound was clean forgotten in the day of Sigurd's need. + + * * * * * + + So that night in the hall of the ancient they hold high-tide again, + And the Gods on the Southland hangings smile out full fair and fain, + And the song goes up of Sigurd, and the praise of his fame fulfilled, + But his speech in the dead sleep lieth, and the words of his wisdom are + chilled: + And men say, the King is careful, for he thinks of the people's weal, + And his heart is afraid for our trouble, lest the Gods our joyance steal. + + But that night, when the feast was over, to Gudrun Sigurd came, + And she noted the ring on his finger, and she knew it was nowise the same + As the ring he was wont to carry; so she bade him tell thereof: + Then he turned unto her kindly, and his words were words of love; + Nor his life nor his death he heeded, but told her last night's tale: + Yea, he drew forth the sword for his slaying, and whetted the edges of bale; + For he took that Gold of Andvari, that Curse of the uttermost land, + And he spake as a king that loveth, and set it on her hand; + But her heart was exceeding joyous, as he kissed her sweet and soft, + And bade her bear it for ever, that she might remember him oft + When his hand from the world was departed and he sat in Odin's home. + + +_How Brynhild was wedded to Gunnar the Niblung._ + +So ten days wore over, and on the morrow-morn the folk were all astir +in the Niblung house, till the watchers on the towers cried to them +tidings of a goodly company drawing nigh upon the road. Then the +Niblungs got them to horse in glittering-gay raiment and went forth to +meet the people of Brynhild. + +First rode bands of maidens arrayed in fine linen and blue-broidered +cloaks, and after them came a golden wain with horses of snowy white and +bench-cloths of blue, and therein sat Brynhild alone, clad in swan-white +raiment and crowned with gold. Then they hailed her sweet and goodly, and +so she entered the darksome gate-way and came within the Niblung Burg. + + So fair in the sun of the forecourt doth Brynhild's wain shine bright, + And the huge hall riseth before her, and the ernes cry out from its height, + And there by the door of the Niblungs she sees huge warriors stand, + Dark-clad, by the shoulders greater than the best of any land, + And she knoweth the chiefs of the Niblungs, the dreaded dukes of war: + But one in cloudy raiment stands a very midst the door, + And ruddy and bright is his visage, and his black locks wave in the wind, + And she knoweth the King of the Niblungs and the man she came to find: + Then nought she lingered nor loitered, but stepped to the earth adown + With right-hand reached to the War-God, the wearer of the crown; + And she said: + "I behold thee, Gunnar, the King of War that rode + Through the waves of the Flickering Fire to the door of mine abode, + + * * * * * + + "And for this I needs must deem thee the best of all men born, + The highest-hearted, the greatest, the staunchest of thy love: + And that such the world yet holdeth, my heart is fain thereof: + And for thee I deem was I fashioned, and for thee the oath I swore + In the days of my glory and wisdom, ere the days of youth were o'er. + + * * * * * + + "May the fire ne'er stay thy glory, nor the ocean-flood thy fame! + Through ages of all ages may the wide world praise thy name! + Yea, oft may the word be spoken when low we lie at rest; + 'It befell in the days of Gunnar, the happiest and the best!' + All this may the high Gods give thee, and thereto a gift I give, + The body of Queen Brynhild so long as both we live." + + With unmoved face, unfaltering, the blessing-words she said, + But the joy sprang up in Gunnar and increased his goodlihead, + And he cast his arms about her and kissed her on the mouth, + And he said: + "The gift is greater than all treasure of the south; + As glad as my heart this moment, so glad may be thy life, + And the world be never weary of the joy of Gunnar's wife!" + + She spake no word, and smiled not, but she held his hand henceforth. + And he said; "Now take the greetings of my men, the most of worth." + + Then she turned her face to the war-dukes, and hearkened to their praise, + And she spake in few words sweetly, and blessed their coming days. + Then again spake Gunnar and said: "Lo, Hogni my brother is this; + But Guttorm is far on the East-seas, and seeketh the warrior's bliss; + A third there is of my brethren, and my house holds none so great; + In the hall by the side of my sister thy face doth he await." + +Then Brynhild gave fair greeting to Hogni, but anon she turned and +questioned Gunnar of his words concerning that brother who awaited her +in the hall. "I deemed the sons of Giuki had been but three," said +Brynhild. "This fourth, this hall-abider the mighty,--is he akin to +thee?" + + And Gunnar answered: + "He is nought of our blood, + But the Gods have sent him to usward to work us measureless good: + It is even Sigurd the Volsung, the best man ever born, + The man that the Gods withstand not, my friend, and my brother sworn." + + She heard the name, and she changed not, but her feet went forth as he led, + And under the cloudy roof-tree Queen Brynhild bowed her head. + Then, were there a man so ancient as had lived beyond his peers + On the earth, that beareth all things, a twice-told tale of years, + He had heard no sound so mighty as the shout that shook the wall + When Brynhild's feet unhearkened first trod the Niblung hall. + No whit the clamour stirred her; but her godlike eyes she raised + And betwixt the hedge of the earl-folk on the golden high-seat gazed, + And the man that sat by Gudrun: but e'en as the rainless cloud + Ere the first of the tempest ariseth the latter sun doth shroud, + And men look round and shudder, so Grimhild came between + The silent golden Sigurd and the eyes of the mighty Queen, + And again heard Brynhild greeting, and again she spake and said: + + "O Mother of the Niblungs, such hap be on thine head, + As thy love for me, the stranger, was past the pain of words! + Mayst thou see thy son's sons glorious in the meeting of the swords! + Mayst thou sleep and doubt thee nothing of the fortunes of thy race! + Mayst thou hear folk call yon high-seat the earth's most happy place!" + + Then the Wise-wife hushed before her, and a little fell aside, + And nought from the eyes of Brynhild the high-seat now did hide; + And the face so long desired, unchanged from time agone, + In the house of the Cloudy People from the Niblung high-seat shone: + She stood with her hand in Gunnar's, and all about and around + Were the unfamiliar faces, and the folk that day had found; + But her heart ran back through the years, and yet her lips did move + With the words she spake on Hindfell, when they plighted troth of love. + + Lo, Sigurd fair on the high-seat by the white-armed Gudrun's side, + In the midst of the Cloudy People, in the dwelling of their pride! + His face is exceeding glorious and awful to behold; + For of all his sorrow he knoweth and his hope smit dead and cold: + The will of the Norns is accomplished, and, lo, they wend on their ways, + And leave the mighty Sigurd to deal with the latter days: + The Gods look down from heaven, and the lonely King they see, + And sorrow over his sorrow, and rejoice in his majesty. + For the will of the Norns is accomplished, and outworn is Grimhild's spell, + And nought now shall blind or help him, and the tale shall be to tell: + He hath seen the face of Brynhild, and he knows why she hath come, + And that his is the hand that hath drawn her to the Cloudy People's home: + He knows of the net of the days, and the deeds that the Gods have bid, + And no whit of the sorrow that shall be from his wakened soul is hid: + And his glory his heart restraineth, and restraineth the hand of the strong + From the hope of the fools of desire and the wrong that amendeth wrong. + + * * * * * + + And Brynhild's face drew near him with eyes grown stern and strange. + + * * * * * + + Now she stands on the floor of the high-seat, and for e'en so little a space + As men may note delaying, she looketh on Sigurd's face, + Ere she saith: + "I have greeted many in the Niblungs' house today, + And for thee is the last of my greetings ere the feast shall wear away: + Hail, Sigurd, son of the Volsungs! hail, lord of Odin's storm! + Hail, rider of the wasteland and slayer of the Worm! + If aught thy soul shall desire while yet thou livest on earth, + I pray that thou mayst win it, nor forget its might and worth." + + All grief, sharp scorn, sore longing, stark death in her voice he knew, + But gone forth is the doom of the Norns, and what shall he answer thereto, + While the death that amendeth lingers? and they twain shall dwell for awhile + In the Niblung house together by the hearth that forged the guile. + + * * * * * + + So he spake as a King of the people in whom all fear is dead, + And his anguish no man noted, as the greeting-words he said: + "Hail, fairest of all things fashioned! hail, thou desire of eyes! + Hail, chooser of the mightiest, and teacher of the wise! + Hail, wife of my brother Gunnar! in might may thy days endure, + And in peace without a trouble that the world's weal may be sure!" + + * * * * * + + But the song sprang up in the hall, and the eagles cried from above + And forth to the freshness of May went the joyance of the feast: + And Sigurd sat with the Niblungs, and gave ear to most and to least. + And showed no sign to the people of the grief that on him lay; + Nor seemeth he worser to any than he was on the yesterday. + + +_Of the Contention betwixt the Queens._ + +So now must Sigurd and Brynhild abide together in the Burg of the +Niblungs, yet each must bear the burden of sorrow alone. Brynhild held +close converse with Gudrun, and behaved humbly towards her lest strife +should arise between them. But Gudrun, filled with pride that she was +the wife of so great a man as Sigurd, deemed it a little matter that +all others should give her honour, and knowing how Sigurd had ridden +the fire, she cherished great scorn of Gunnar and Brynhild in her +heart, and her pride waxed daily greater. + +Of the heart-wise Hogni men tell how he grew wiser day by day and more +learned in the craft of his mother Grimhild. + +As for Gunnar, he lived with Brynhild in great honour and praise from +all men, but the thought of how Sigurd had ridden the fire in his +semblance lay heavy upon him. He brooded thereon in bitterness and +envy, and the lie shadowed his life-days so that he had but small joy +in his wife. + +And Grimhild, marking his heavy mood, wrought upon him with cunning +words and he gave ear to her. For ever she spake of kings' supplanters +who bear away the praise from their lords after great deeds are done, +and often her talk was of the mighty power that he holdeth who knoweth +the shame of a king. So Gunnar hearkened and ill thoughts grew within +him. + + But fair-faced, calm as a God who hath none to call his foes, + Betwixt the Kings and the people the golden Sigurd goes; + No knowledge of man he lacketh, and the lore he gained of old + From the ancient heart of the Serpent and the Wallower on the Gold + Springs fresh in the soul of Sigurd; the heart of Hogni he sees, + And the heart of his brother Gunnar, and he grieveth sore for these. + + * * * * * + + It was most in these latter days that his fame went far abroad, + The helper, the overcomer, the righteous sundering sword; + The loveliest King of the King-folk, the man of sweetest speech, + Whose ear is dull to no man that his helping shall beseech; + The eye-bright seer of all things, that wasteth every wrong, + The straightener of the crooked, the hammer of the strong: + Lo, such was the Son of Sigmund in the days whereof I tell, + The dread of the doom and the battle; and all children loved him well. + +Now Gudrun's scorn of Brynhild waxed greater as she thought on the +knowledge that she held, and it needed but a little that she should +speak out the whole tale. + +Such was her mind when it befell her to go with Brynhild to bathe in +the Niblung river. There it chanced that they fell to talk of their +husbands, and Gudrun named Sigurd the best of the world. Thereat +Brynhild, stung by her love for Sigurd and the memory of his broken +troth,--for so she deemed it,--cried out, saying: "Thy lord is but +Gunnar's serving man to do his bidding, but my mate is the King of +King-folk, who rode the Wavering Fire and hath dared very death to +win me." + +Then Gudrun held out her hand and a golden gleam shone on her finger, +at the sight whereof Brynhild waxed wan as a dead woman. "Lo," said +Gudrun, "I had Andvari's ring of Sigurd, and indeed thou sayest truly, +that he did Gunnar's bidding, for he took the King's semblance and hid +his own shape in Gunnar's. Thus he wooed the bride for Gunnar and for +Gunnar rode the fire, and now by this token mayest thou know whether +thy husband is truly the best of Kings." And Brynhild spake no word in +answer, but clad herself in haste and fled from the river, and Gudrun +followed her in triumph of heart. + +Yet as the day wore on she repented of her words and feared the deeds +that Brynhild might do, and at even she sought her alone and craved +pardon. Then spake Brynhild the Queen: "I repent me of my bitter words +this day, yet one thing I beseech thee,--do thou say that thou hadst +the ring of Gunnar and not of Sigurd, lest I be shamed before all +men." "What?" said Gudrun; "hast thou heard that the wives of the +Niblungs lie? Nay, Sigurd it was who set this ring on my finger and +therewith he told me the shame of my brother Gunnar,--how his glory +was turned to a scoff." + +And Brynhild seeing that the tale of the deceiving wrought against her +might not be hidden, lifted her voice and cursed the house of the +Niblungs wherein she had suffered such woe. So the queens parted in +great wrath and bitterness. + + +_Of the exceeding great grief and mourning of Brynhild._ + +Now on the morrow it was known that Brynhild was sick, nor would she +reveal the cause to any. Then Gunnar besought her to be comforted and +to show what ailed her, but for a long while he might win no word in +answer. Thereat the evil thoughts that Grimhild had sown in his heart +grew strong, and he cried in bitter anger: "Lo, Brynhild, I deem thou +art sick for love of my foe, the supplanter of Kings, he who hath +shone like a serpent this long while past amidst the honour of our +kin." + +Then at last was Brynhild moved to look on him, and she besought him, +saying: "Swear to me, Gunnar, that I may live, and say that thou +gavest Andvari's ring to Gudrun--thou, and not thy captain of war." +Thereby Gunnar understood that all his falsehood was known to her, so +that never again might they two have any joy together. He had no +answering word, but turned from her and departed, for bitter shame was +come on him and hatred of Sigurd burnt in his soul like fire. + +Then as evening drew on, boding of evil fell on Gudrun, and she +sought her brothers that they might plead with Brynhild to pardon her +and forget her bitter taunts. + +But Gunnar she found seated alone arrayed in his war-gear and on his +knees lay his sword, neither would he hear any word of further +pleading with Brynhild. + +Then sought she Hogni, and behold, he was in the like guise, and sat +as one that waits for a foe. So she sped to Sigurd, but chill fear +fell on her beholding him, for he was dight in the Helm of Aweing and +his golden hauberk, and the Wrath lay on his knees, neither would he +then speak to Brynhild. + +So that heavy night passed away and there was but little sleep in the +abode of the Niblungs. And with the dawn Sigurd arose and sought +Brynhild's chamber where she lay as one dead. Like a pillar of light +he stood in the sunshine and the Wrath rattled by his side. And +Brynhild looked on him and said: "Art thou come to behold me? +Thou--the mightiest and the worst of my betrayers." Then for very +grief the breast of Sigurd heaved so that the rings of his byrny burst +asunder and he cried: "O live, Brynhild beloved! For hereafter shalt +thou know of the snare and the lie that entrapped us and the +measureless grief of my soul." "It is o'erlate," said Brynhild, "for I +may live no longer and the gods have forgotten the earth." And in such +despair must he leave her. + + +_Of the slaying of Sigurd the Volsung._ + +Then at high noon Brynhild sent for Gunnar and sought to whet him to +the slaying of Sigurd, for to such hatred was her love turned. + + "I look upon thee," said Brynhild, "I know thy race and thy name, + Yet meseems the deed thou sparest, to amend thine evil and shame." + + "Nought, nought," he said, "may amend it, save the hungry eyeless sword, + And the war without hope or honour, and the strife without reward." + + "Thou hast spoken the word," said Brynhild, "if the word is enough, it is + well. + Let us eat and drink and be merry, that all men of our words may tell!" + + "O all-wise woman," said Gunnar, "what deed lieth under the tongue? + What day for the dearth of the people, when the seed of thy sowing hath + sprung?" + + She said: "Our garment is Shame, and nought the web shall rend, + Save the day without repentance, and the deed that nought may amend." + + "Speak, mighty of women," said Gunnar, "and cry out the name and the deed + That the ends of the Earth may hearken, and the Niblungs' grievous Need." + "To slay," she said, "is the deed, to slay a King ere the morn, + And the name is Sigurd the Volsung, my love and thy brother sworn." + + She turned and departed from him, and he knew not whither she went; + But he took his sword from the girdle and the peace-strings round it rent, + And into the house he gat him, and the sunlit fair abode, + But his heart in the mid-mirk waded, as through the halls he strode, + Till he came to a chamber apart; and Grimhild his mother was there, + And there was his brother Hogni in the cloudy Niblung gear: + Him-seemed there was silence between them as of them that have spoken, and + wait + Till the words of their mouths be accomplished by slow unholpen Fate: + But they turned to the door, and beheld him, and he took his sheathed sword + And cast it adown betwixt them, and it clashed half bare on the board, + And Grimhild spake as it clattered: "For whom are the peace-strings rent? + For whom is the blood-point whetted and the edge of thine intent?" + He said: "For the heart of Sigurd; and thus all is rent away + Betwixt this word and his slaying, save a little hour of day." + + * * * * * + + Again spake Grimhild the wise-wife: "Where then is Guttorm the brave? + For he blent not his blood with the Volsung's, nor his oath to Sigurd gave, + Nor called on Earth to witness, nor went beneath the yoke; + And now is he Sigurd's foeman; and who may curse his stroke?" + + Then Hogni laughed and answered: "His feet on the threshold stand: + Forged is thy sword, O Mother, and its hilts are come to hand. + + * * * * * + + "Ho, Guttorm, enter, and hearken to the counsel of the wise!" + Then in through the door strode Guttorm fair-clad in hunter's guise, + With no steel save his wood-knife girded; but his war-fain eyes stared wild, + As he spake: "What words are ye hiding from the youngest Niblung child? + What work is to win, my brethren, that ye sit in warrior's weed, + And tell me nought of the glory, and cover up the deed?" + + Then uprose Grimhild the wise-wife, and took the cup again; + Night-long had she brewed that witch-drink and laboured not in vain. + For therein was the creeping venom, and hearts of things that prey + On the hidden lives of ocean, and never look on day; + And the heart of the ravening wood-wolf and the hunger-blinded beast + And the spent slaked heart of the wild-fire the guileful cup increased: + But huge words of ancient evil about its rim were scored, + The curse and the eyeless craving of the first that fashioned sword. + + So the cup in her hand was gleaming, as she turned unto Guttorm and spake: + "Be merry, King of the War-fain! we hold counsel for thy sake: + The work is a God's son's slaying, and thine is the hand that shall smite, + That thy name may be set in, glory and thy deeds live on in light." + + Forth flashed the flame from his eyen, and he cried: "Where then is the foe, + This dread of mine house and my brethren, that my hand may lay him alow?" + + "Drink, son," she said, "and be merry! and I shall tell his name, + Whose death shall crown thy life-days, and increase thy fame with his fame." + + He drinketh and craveth for battle, and his hand for a sword doth seek, + And he looketh about on his brethren, but his lips no word may speak; + They speak the name, and he hears not, and again he drinks of the cup + And knows not friend nor kindred, and the wrath in his heart wells up, + That no God may bear unmingled, and he cries a wordless cry, + As the last of the day is departing and the dusk time drawing anigh. + + Then Grimhild goes from the chamber, and bringeth his harness of war, + And therewith they array his body, and he drinketh the cup once more, + And his heart is set on the murder, and now may he understand + What soul is dight for the slaying, and what quarry is for his hand. + For again they tell him of Sigurd, and the man he remembereth, + And praiseth his mighty name and his deeds that laughed on death. + + Now dusk and dark draw over, and through the glimmering house + They go to the place of the Niblungs, the high hall and glorious; + For hard by is the chamber of Sigurd: there dight in their harness of war + In their thrones sit Gunnar and Hogni, but Guttorm stands on the floor + With his blue blade naked before them: the torches flare from the wall + And the woven God-folk waver, but the hush is deep in the hall, + And those Niblung faces change not, though the slow moon slips from her + height + And earth is acold ere dawning, and new winds shake the night. + + Now it was in the earliest dawn-dusk that Guttorm stirred in his place, + And the mail-rings tinkled upon him, as he turned his helm-hid face, + And went forth from the hall and the high-seat; but the Kings sat still in + their pride + And hearkened the clash of his going and heeded how it died. + + Slow, all alone goeth Guttorm to Sigurd's chamber door, + And all is open before him, and the white moon lies on the floor + And the bed where Sigurd lieth with Gudrun on his breast, + And light comes her breath from her bosom in the joy of infinite rest. + Then Guttorm stands on the threshold, and his heart of the murder is fain, + And he thinks of the deeds of Sigurd, and praiseth his greatness and gain; + Bright blue is his blade in the moonlight--but lo, how Sigurd lies, + As the carven dead that die not, with fair wide-open eyes; + And their glory gleameth on Guttorm, and the hate in his heart is chilled, + And he shrinketh aback from the threshold and knoweth not what he willed. + +Thereon he turned him again to the hall, and the Kings beheld his +unstained sword in the torch-light, but they cast him never a word. +Then shame and wrath urged him and he wended the second time to +Sigurd's chamber, but yet again the dread eyes of the Volsung were +open and he fled from their light to his biding brethren. + + Now dieth moon and candle, and though the day be nigh + The roof of the hall fair-builded seems far aloof as the sky, + But a glimmer grows on the pavement and the ernes on the roof-ridge stir: + Then the brethren hist and hearken, for a sound of feet they hear, + And into the hall of the Niblungs a white thing cometh apace: + But the sword of Guttorm upriseth, and he wendeth from his place, + And the clash of steel goes with him; yet loud as it may sound + Still more they hear those footsteps light-falling on the ground, + And the hearts of the Niblungs waver, and their pride is smitten acold, + For they look on that latest comer, and Brynhild they behold: + But she sits by their side in silence, and heeds them nothing more + Than the grey soft-footed morning heeds yester-even's war. + + But Guttorm clashed in the cloisters and through the silence strode + And scarce on the threshold of Sigurd a little while abode; + There the moon from the floor hath departed and heaven without is grey, + And afar in the eastern quarter faint glimmer streaks of day. + Close over the head of Sigurd the Wrath gleams wan and bare, + And the Niblung woman stirreth, and her brow is knit with fear; + But the King's closed eyes are hidden, loose lie his empty hands, + There is nought 'twixt the sword of the slayer and the Wonder of all Lands. + Then Guttorm laughed in his war-rage, and his sword leapt up on high, + As he sprang to the bed from the threshold and cried a wordless cry, + And with all the might of the Niblungs through Sigurd's body thrust, + And turned and fled from the chamber, and fell amid the dust, + Within the door and without it, the slayer slain by the slain; + For the cast of the sword of Sigurd had smitten his body atwain + While yet his cry of onset through the echoing chambers went. + + Woe's me! how the house of the Niblungs by another cry was rent, + The wakening wail of Gudrun, as she shrank in the river of blood + From the breast of the mighty Sigurd: he heard it and understood, + And rose up on the sword of Guttorm, and turned from the country of death, + And spake words of loving-kindness as he strove for life and breath: + + "Wail not, O child of the Niblungs! I am smitten, but thou shall live, + In remembrance of our glory, mid the gifts the Gods shall give!" + + She stayed her cry to hearken, and her heart well nigh stood still: + But he spake: "Mourn not, O Gudrun, this stroke is the last of ill; + Fear leaveth the House of the Niblungs on this breaking of the morn; + Mayst thou live, O woman beloved, unforsaken, unforlorn!" + + Then he sank aback on the sword, and down to his lips she bent + If some sound therefrom she might hearken; for his breath was well-nigh + spent: + "It is Brynhild's deed," he murmured, "and the woman that loves me well; + Nought now is left to repent of, and the tale abides to tell. + I have done many deeds in my life-days, and all these, and my love, they lie + In the hollow hand of Odin till the day of the world go by. + I have done and I may not undo, I have given and I take not again: + Art thou other than I, Allfather, wilt thou gather my glory in vain?" + + There was silence then in the chamber, as the dawn spread wide and grey, + And hushed was the hall of the Niblungs at the entering-in of day. + Long Gudrun hung o'er the Volsung and waited the coming word; + Then she stretched out her hand to Sigurd and touched her love and her lord, + And the broad day fell on his visage, and she knew she was there alone, + And her heart was wrung with anguish and she uttered a weary moan: + Then Brynhild laughed in the hall, and the first of men's voices was that + Since when on yester-even the kings in the high-seat had sat. + + * * * * * + + In the house rose rumour and stir, and men stood up in the morn, + And their hearts with doubt were shaken, as if with the Uttermost Horn: + The cry and the calling spread, and shields clashed down from the wall, + And swords in the chamber glittered, and men ran apace to the hall. + Nor knew what man to question, nor who had tidings to give, + Nor what were the days thenceforward wherein the folk should live. + But ever the word is amongst them that Sigurd the Volsung is slain, + And the spears in the hall were tossing as the rye in the windy plain. + But they look aloft to the high-seat and they see the gleam of the gold: + And Gunnar the King of battle, and Hogni wise and cold, + And Brynhild the wonder of women; and her face is deadly pale, + And the Kings are clad in their war-gear, and bared are the edges of bale. + Then cold fear falleth upon them, but the noise and the clamour abate, + And they look on the war-wise Gunnar and awhile for his word they wait; + But e'en as he riseth above them, doth a shriek through the tumult ring; + + "Awake, O House of the Niblungs, for slain is Sigurd the King!" + + Then nothing faltered Gunnar, but he stood o'er the Niblung folk, + And over the hall woe-stricken the words of pride he spoke: + + "Mourn now, O Niblung people, for gone is Sigurd our guest, + And Guttorm the King is departed, and this is our day of unrest; + But all this of the Norns was fore-ordered, and herein is Odin's hand; + Cast down are the mighty of men-folk, but the Niblung house shall stand: + Mourn then today and tomorrow, but the third day waken and live, + For the Gods died not this morning, and great gifts they have to give." + + He spake and awhile was silence, and then did the cry outbreak, + And many there were of the Earl-folk that wept for Sigurd's sake; + And they wept for their little children, and they wept for those unborn, + Who should know the earth without him and the world of his worth forlorn. + + * * * * * + + So rent is the joy of the Niblungs; and their simple days and fain + From that ancient house are departed, and who shall buy them again? + For he, the redeemer, the helper, the crown of all their worth, + They looked upon him and wondered, they loved, and they thrust him forth. + + +_Of the mighty Grief of Gudrun over Sigurd dead._ + +But as for the grief of Gudrun over Sigurd no man may tell it. Long +she lay on his body and spent herself in weeping, but at last she +arose and cursed Brynhild and Gunnar and all the Niblung house, +saying: + + "O hearken, hearken Gunnar! May the dear Gold drag thee adown, + And Greyfell's ruddy Burden, and the Treasure of renown, + And the rings that ye swore the oath on! yea, if all avengers die, + May Earth, that ye bade remember, on the blood of Sigurd cry! + Be this land as waste as the troth-plight that the lips of fools have sworn! + May it rain through this broken hall-roof, and snow on the hearth forlorn! + And may no man draw anigh it to tell of the ruin and the wrack! + Yea, may I be a mock for the idle if my feet come ever aback, + If my heart think kind of the chambers, if mine eyes shall yearn to behold + The fair-built house of my fathers, the house beloved of old!" + +And therewith Gudrun fled forever from the Burg of the Niblungs, and +none dared hinder or follow her, and none knew whither she turned for +refuge. + + +_Of the passing away of Brynhild._ + + Once more on the morrow-morning fair shineth the glorious sun, + And the Niblung children labour on a deed that shall be done. + For out in the people's meadows they raise a bale on high, + The oak and the ash together, and thereon shall the Mighty lie; + Nor gold nor steel shall be lacking, nor savour of sweet spice, + Nor cloths in the Southlands woven, nor webs of untold price; + The work grows, toil is as nothing; long blasts of the mighty horn + From the topmost tower out-wailing o'er the woeful world are borne. + + * * * * * + + But Brynhild cried to her maidens: "Now open ark and chest, + And draw forth queenly raiment of the loveliest and the best, + Red rings that the Dwarf-lords fashioned, fair cloths that queens have + sewed, + To array the bride for the mighty, and the traveller for the road." + + They wept as they wrought her bidding and did on her goodliest gear; + But she laughed mid the dainty linen, and the gold-rings fashioned fair: + She arose from the bed of the Niblungs, and her face no more was wan; + As a star in the dawn-tide heavens, mid the dusky house she shone: + And they that stood about her, their hearts were raised aloft + Amid their fear and wonder: then she spake them kind and soft: + + "Now give me the sword, O maidens, wherewith I sheared the wind + When the Kings of Earth were gathered to know the Chooser's mind." + + All sheathed the maidens brought it, and feared the hidden blade, + But the naked blue-white edges across her knees she laid, + And spake: "The heaped-up riches, the gear my fathers left, + All dear-bought woven wonders, all rings from battle reft, + All goods of men desired, now strew them on the floor, + And so share among you, maidens, the gifts of Brynhild's store." + + * * * * * + + Then upright by the bed of the Niblungs for a moment doth she stand, + And the blade flasheth bright in the chamber, but no more they hinder her + hand + Than if a God were smiting to rend the world in two: + Then dulled are the glittering edges, and the bitter point cleaves through + The breast of the all-wise Brynhild, and her feet from the pavement fail, + And the sigh of her heart is hearkened mid the hush of the maidens' wail. + Chill, deep is the fear upon them, but they bring her aback to the bed, + And her hand is yet on the hilts, and sidelong droopeth her head. + + Then there cometh a cry from withoutward, and Gunnar's hurrying feet + Are swift on the kingly threshold, and Brynhild's blood they meet. + Low down o'er the bed he hangeth and hearkeneth for her word, + And her heavy lids are opened to look on the Niblung lord, + And she saith: + "I pray thee a prayer, the last word in the world I speak, + That ye bear me forth to Sigurd, and the hand my hand would seek; + The bale for the dead is builded, it is wrought full wide on the plain, + It is raised for Earth's best Helper, and thereon is room for twain: + Ye have hung the shields about it, and the Southland hangings spread, + There lay me adown by Sigurd and my head beside his head." + + * * * * * + + Then they took the body of Brynhild in the raiment that she wore, + And out through the gate of the Niblungs the holy corpse they bore, + And thence forth to the mead of the people, and the high-built shielded + bale; + Then afresh in the open meadows breaks forth the women's wail + When they see the bed of Sigurd and the glittering of his gear; + And fresh is the wail of the people as Brynhild draweth anear, + And the tidings go before her that for twain the bale is built, + That for twain is the oak-wood shielded and the pleasant odours spilt. + + There is peace on the bale of Sigurd, and the Gods look down from on high, + And they see the lids of the Volsung close shut against the sky, + As he lies with his shield beside him in the Hauberk all of gold, + That has not its like in the heavens, nor has earth of its fellow told; + And forth from the Helm of Aweing are the sunbeams flashing wide, + And the sheathed Wrath of Sigurd lies still by his mighty side. + Then cometh an elder of days, a man of the ancient times, + Who is long past sorrow and joy, and the steep of the bale he climbs; + And he kneeleth down by Sigurd, and bareth the Wrath to the sun + That the beams are gathered about it, and from hilt to blood-point run, + And wide o'er the plain of the Niblungs doth the Light of the Branstock + glare, + Till the wondering mountain-shepherds on that star of noontide stare, + And fear for many an evil; but the ancient man stands still + With the war-flame on his shoulder, nor thinks of good or of ill, + Till the feet of Brynhild's bearers on the topmost bale are laid, + And her bed is dight by Sigurd's; then he sinks the pale white blade + And lays it 'twixt the sleepers, and leaves them there alone-- + He, the last that shall ever behold them,--and his days are well nigh done. + + Then is silence over the plain; in the noon shine the torches pale + As the best of the Niblung Earl-folk bear fire to the builded bale: + Then a wind in the west ariseth, and the white flames leap on high, + And with one voice crieth the people a great and mighty cry, + And men cast up hands to the Heavens, and pray without a word, + As they that have seen God's visage, and the voice of the Father have heard. + + They are gone--the lovely, the mighty, the hope of the ancient Earth: + It shall labour and bear the burden as before that day of their birth. + + * * * * * + + Ye have heard of Sigurd aforetime, how the foes of God he slew; + How forth from the darksome desert the Gold of the Waters he drew; + How he wakened Love on the Mountain, and wakened Brynhild the Bright, + And dwelt upon Earth for a season and shone in all men's sight. + Ye have heard of the Cloudy People, and the dimming of the day, + And the latter world's confusion, and Sigurd gone away. + + +THE END + + + + +GLOSSARY + +ABBREVIATIONS:--n., noun; n., verb; cf., compare; e.g., for +example; p.t., past tense; p.p. past participle. + + +_Abasement_, casting down, defeat. + +_Acre-biders_, peaceful workers in the fields as distinguished from +warriors who left their homes to go to war. + +_Amber_, a yellow substance found on the shores of the Baltic Sea and +used from very early days as an ornament. The "southern men," or +traders from the shores of the Mediterranean, came north to buy it. + +_Ark_, a box for treasures. + +_Atwain_, in two pieces, e.g. "The sword ... had smitten his body +atwain." + +_Avail_, n. power; n. to have power, to succeed. + + +_Bale_, disaster, destruction, death; a great pile of wood for +burning. + +_Balks_, pieces of timber used to make a bridge. + +_Bane_, destruction or a cause of destruction; often used to mean an +enemy or slayer, e.g. Sigurd's sword is called "Fafnir's bane," and +in the old saga Sigurd himself had the title Fafnir's-Bane. + +_Barter_, to give in exchange for something else. + +_Bast_, wrappings made of the soft inner bark of trees. + +_Bath of the swan_, the sea. + +_Battle-acre_, field of battle. + +_Beaker_, a drinking cup. + +_Befall_, happen. + +_Begrudge_, to feel unwillingness in giving, to be displeased at +another's success. Loki is called the World's Begrudger, because he +liked to cause failure and unhappiness, and hated success in others. + +_Bench-cloths_, coverings for seats. + +_Bent_, a piece of high ground. + +_Betide_, p.t. betided; p.p. betid; to happen, come to pass, +e.g. "What hath betid?" + +_Bickering_, stormy, struggling. + +_Bide_ or _abide_, p.t. abode; p.p. abode; to remain, dwell + +_Bight_, a bend or curve in a coast or river bank. + +_Bill_, an axe with a long handle. + +_Blazoning_, painting, especially the painting of coats of arms or of +records of valiant deeds. + +_Boar of Son_. It was customary when making any solemn vows to lay the +hand or sword on a sacred boar called the Boar of Son or the Boar of +Atonement. The ceremony seems to have been also accompanied by +drinking a draught, called in this poem the Cup of Daring Promise, in +honour of one of the gods. + +_Boding_, a misgiving, a feeling that evil is to come. + +_Bole_, a tree-trunk. + +_Bows the acre's face_, bends the growing grain in a harvest-field. + +_Brand_, a sword. + +_Bucklers_, shields. + +_Burg_, a town, a fortress. + +_Byrny_, a coat of armour for back and breast, made of linked iron +rings. + + +_Carles_, peasants; a contemptuous word used for a man who is not a +warrior. + +_Change his life_, die and pass from the life on earth to that in +Valhalla or Niflheim. + +_Chooser_. One of the titles of Brynhild, as she was one of the +Valkyries or maidens whom Odin sent into battles to single out for +death the men he had chosen to be slain. Victory-Wafter is another +title of Brynhild, since she brought victory to those for whom it was +appointed and death to others. + +_Churl_, a grudging, ungracious man. + +_Clave_, p.p. of cleave, to pierce, hew, cut through. + +_Cloisters_, a roofed passage running round a court-yard and open on +the side towards the court-yard. + +_Close_, a field. + +_Cloud-wreath_, the cloud that often gathers about the top of a high +mountain. + +_Compass_, to contrive, accomplish. + +_Constrain_, to force, to control and guide. + +_Coping_, the topmost row of bricks in a wall, the top of a wall. + +_Craft_, skill, knowledge of some particular art, a trade or +occupation, e.g. song-craft. + +_Cull_, to choose, pick out. + +_Cup of Daring Promise_, see _Boar of Son_. + + +_Dais_, a raised part of the floor at one end of a banquet hall, where +the principal persons sat. + +_Dastard_, a coward. + +_Dawn-dusk_, the twilight at dawn before the sun is fully risen. + +_Day of the Battle_, Ragnarok, when the spirits of dead warriors +should join in the battle of the gods. "_Day of Doom_" has the same +meaning. + +_Dearth_, want, famine, scarcity. + +_Deft_, skilful, e.g. deft in every cunning. + +_Dight_, made ready, prepared, e.g. war-dight, prepared for war. + +_Dole_, n. a gift dealt out as charity; n. to measure out in small +portions, e.g. I doled out wisdom to thee. + +_Doom_, n. a sentence, verdict, e.g. give righteous doom; n. to +condemn, to sentence. _Doom-ring_, a circle of stones or hazel poles +where kings heard complaints from their people and gave judgment. + +_Do on_, put on; often shortened into "don"; cf. doff, which is +shortened from do off. + +_Door-wards_, porters, door-keepers. + +_Dragons_, the war-ships of the northern nations, which often had +their prows carved into a dragon's head. + +_Dwindle_, to grow less. + + +_Edges of bale_, the sword edges, which bring bale or destruction. + +_Egg_, to urge on, to persuade to some deed, e.g. "Too much thou +eggest me." + +_Eld_, old age. + +_Endlong_, length-ways, along. _Endlong_ and _athwart_, along and +across. + +_Erewhile_, some time ago, formerly. + +_Erne_, an eagle. + +_Eyen_, eyes; old plural of eye. + + +_Fain_, glad, willing, full of desire. Sometimes used as an adverb +meaning "willingly," e.g. "They fain would go aland." + +_Fair-speech-masters_, men skilled in poetry. There were professional +singers and poets called skalds among the northern people, and the +power to make verses and to sing was cultivated among the mass of the +people and was fairly common. + +_Fallow_, lying quiet, inactive, not bearing crops. The expression, +"fallow bondage," means a bondage of sleep and idleness. + +_Fare_, to travel. Sometimes when joined to adverbs it means to +prosper, e.g. to fare ill, to fare well, how does he fare? + +_Fashion_, to make, to arrange. Regin hoped to be the world's +"fashioning lord," that is, the supreme king and orderer of all +things. + +_Fell-abiding folk_, men who worked at home instead of going out to +battle. + +_Flame-blink_, the flash of light from the fire round Brynhild's home. + +_Flaw_, defect, fault, e.g. "the hauberk ... clean wrought without a +flaw;" "the ring ... that hath ... no flaw for God to mend." If used +of rain, it means a slight shower, e.g. "a flaw of summer rain," + +_Fleck_, spot, mark. + +_Foam-bow_, the small rainbow seen in the spray from a waterfall. + +_Foil_, n. defeat, failure; n. to defeat, to baffle. + +_Fold_, a place for shutting up sheep. It is often used meaning any +dwelling-place, e.g. Fafnir's abode is called "the lone destroyer's +fold." + +_Folk_, people. It is often joined with other words, e.g. man-folk, +Goth-folk. _Folk of the-war-wands forgers_, are the race of dwarfs who +had great skill in the making of weapons. + +_Fond_, used in Old English to mean "foolish," or sometimes only to +give emphasis, as in the expression "thy fondest need," meaning "thy +greatest need." + +_Foot-hills_, the lower hills round the base of a very high mountain. + +_Fore-ordained_, settled by the will of the gods in early times. + +_Foster_, to rear, to bring up a child, to care for, to shelter, +e.g. "Now would I foster Sigurd;" "the house that fostered me." + +_Franklin_, a well-to-do farmer, one who is not merely a hired +servant. + +_Freyia_, the wife of Odin and chief of the goddesses. + + +_Gainsay_, to resist, to refuse a request. + +_Gaping Gap_, a name given to the state of things that existed before +the world was made. There was supposed to have been an empty space +till Odin created the world of gods and men. + +_Garner_, to gather up, to store up; sometimes, to reap. + +_Garth_, an enclosure, a place from which things may be garnered, +e.g. "within the garth that it (the wall) girdeth." + +_Gear_, a word used with many meanings, as, dress, arms, possessions, +anything that a person has or uses, e.g. war-gear, all a man's +armour and weapons; mail-gear, a man's armour. + +_Gird_, to tie round, to be all round, e.g. "The Wrath to his side +is girded;" "a wall doth he behold ... but within the garth that it +girdeth no work of man is set." + +_Glaive_, a sword. + +_God-home_, Asgard. + +_Gold-bestrider_, the name given to Sigurd by Giuki because he rode +with the treasure of gold upon his saddle. To bestride is to stand +over anything with one foot on each side. + +_Good-heart_, kindly strength. + +_Goodlihead_, a word of praise which is generally used to mean bodily +beauty, but sometimes to mean beauty of character. + +_Grovel_, to crouch low on the ground. + +_Guest-fain_, hospitable, ready to welcome guests. + +_Guile_, cunning, cleverness used for an evil purpose. + +_Guise_, appearance, kind, dress, e.g. "such was the guise of his +raiment;" "fair-clad in hunter's guise." + + +_Halers of the hawsers_, pullers of the ropes, _i.e._ seamen. + +_Hallow_, to set apart for a solemn purpose, to make holy, e.g. I +hallow me to Odin for a leader of his host. + +_Hangings_, tapestry, woven stuff on which pictures or figures of gods +and heroes were embroidered, used to decorate the walls of houses, +e.g. "The walls were strange and wondrous with noble stories told;" +"the gods on the hangings stirred." + +_Harness_, armour. + +_Hauberk_, a breast-plate. + +_Heave_, to rise and fall, sometimes merely to rise, e.g. "The doom ... +heaves up dim through the gloom." + +_High-seat_, the dais or chief seat where the master of a house and +his principal guests sat. + +_High-tide_, time of festival. + +_Hindfell_, the word means "deer-mountain," since "fell" means any +hill, and "hind" is the word we still use for a deer. + +_Hireling_, a servant. + +_Hist_, to give attention, to listen. + +_Hithermost_, nearest. + +_Hoard_, a store. Generally used of a treasure which the owner keeps +selfishly, e.g. Fafnir's wisdom is called "grudged and hoarded +wisdom," and his gold the "heavy hoard." + +_Hoenir_, one of Odin's sons; a wise and blameless god who, the others +believed, would return to reign over a new heaven and a new earth when +Ragnarok was past. + +_Holt_, a woodland. + +_Hoppled_, fettered. + +_Horse-fed_, cropped by horses. + +_Horse-herd_, keeper of horses. "Herd" means any keeper of animals, +and is generally joined with other words, e.g. shepherd, swine-herd. + +_Huddled_, twisted together in a small space. + + +_Intent_, intention, purpose. In the passage, "For whom is the +blood-point whetted and the edge of thine intent?" the meaning is, +"Against whom is thy sword sharpened, and against whom is thy purpose +so keen?" + + +_Kin_, family, relations. _Kin of the Wolf_, Loki and his children, +one of whom was a monstrous wolf which was to fight against the gods +at Ragnarok. + +_Kine_, cattle. + +_Kirtle_, a long cloak. + + +_Lack_, loss, e.g. "He knew there was ruin and lack." "The lack that +made him loth" is used to describe the ring of Andvari which he was +unwilling to give up with the rest of his treasure to Loki. n. "To +be without," or, "to be found wanting." + +_Lay_, a song. + +_Lea_, a meadow. + +_Leeches_, doctors. + +_Lief_, willing. + +_Lift_, the arch of the sky overhead, the highest part of the sky. + +_Linden_, the lime-tree. + +_Linked mail_, armour made of rings linked together. + +_Lintel_, the top of a doorway. + +_List_, to wish, to choose. + +_Litten_, lighted up; cf. red-litten, torch-litten. + +_Long-ships_, ships of war. + +_Lore_, learning, knowledge. + +_Loth_, unwilling, grieved. + + +_Mar_, to spoil, disfigure. + +_Mark_, boundary, borderland. + +_Masters of God-home_, the gods of Asgard against whom the giants and +all foul monsters were constantly at war. + +_Mattock_, a pick-axe. + +_Mead_, a meadow. + +_Mew_, a sea-gull. + +_Mid-mirk_, thick darkness. _Mirk_, darkness. + +_Midward_, prime, best days. + +_Midworld_, the earth; the home of men as distinguished from Asgard, +the home of the gods, and Niflheim, the home of the dead. + +_Minish_, to grow less. + +_Moon-wake_, the long straight path of light made by the moon on +water. + +_Murder-churls,_ fierce and suspicious men ready to slay a guest. + +_Mute_, dumb, silent. + + +_Nether_, lower. + +_Niggard_, grudging, miserly, unproductive, e.g. the Glittering +Heath is called "niggard ground." + +_Norns_, the three maidens who decided the fates of gods and men. +Their names were Urd, Verdandi and Skuld, or Past, Present, and +Future, and they were more powerful than the gods themselves, e.g. +"Gone, forth is the will of the Norns, that abideth ever the same." + + +_Odin's door_, a warrior's shield. + +_Odin's Hall_, Valhalla, to which went the souls of warriors slain in +battle. + + +_Pall_, a cloak of state; most commonly used in the expression "purple +and pall." + +_Passing_, very; used to give emphasis, e.g. "He loveth her passing +sore," where both words are simply emphatic. + +_Peace-strings_, the strings which tied a sword into its sheath when +it was not in use. + +_Peers_, equals in age and rank. + +_People's Praise_. Odin, chief of the gods. "The death of the People's +Praise" is Ragnarok, the time when Odin and all his fellow gods were +to be destroyed. + +_Purblind_, dim-sighted. The syllable "pur" is a form of the word +pure, and gives emphasis to blind. + +_Purple_, cloth dyed with a purple dye made from the murex, a +shell-fish found in the Mediterranean. The secret of making it was +known only to the "southern men" or Phoenician traders of Tyre and +Sidon. + + +_Quarry_, game, prey, the animal chased by a hunter. + +_Quell_, to stop, make to cease. + +_Quicken_, to rouse, bring to life. + + +_Ravening_, devouring, eager for prey; often used of wild animals. + +_Reck_, to notice, care about. + +_Reek_, smoke rising from a fire, or spray and mist from a waterfall, +e.g. "the reek of the falling flood;" "the heart of Fafnir ... sang +among the reek." + +_Renown_, fame, honour. + +_Rock-wall_, mountain cliff. + +_Roof-tree_, the topmost beam which forms the ridge of a roof. + +_Rue_, to regret, to find a cause of woe. + +_Rumour_, report, gossiping tale. + +_Rune_, letter. The letters used in old Icelandic and similar +languages are called runic characters. When written letters were first +known in the north of Europe they were supposed to have magic powers, +and gradually the word "rune" came to mean any spell, or even any +wisdom which was beyond the ordinary knowledge of men. + +_Ruth_, pity, regret, e.g. "Ruth arose in his heart;" "I have +hearkened not nor heeded the words of thy fear and thy ruth." + + +_Salutation_, greeting. + +_Sate_, satisfy to the full. + +_Scalds_, the poets who recited poems or stories at feasts. + +_Scoff_, an object of mockery. + +_Scored_, carved, marked by lines cut deeply into a surface. + +_Sea-beast's tooth_, the tusks of the walrus. + +_Sea-mead_, the wide surface of the sea. The word means sea-meadow. + +_Seethe_, to bubble and move like boiling water. + +_Semblance_, an appearance, outward show where there is no reality. + +_Serry_, to crowd closely together. + +_Shards_, broken fragments, e.g. "the shards of a glaive of battle." + +_Shield-burg_, a fortress built of shields. Burg means either a town, +a castle, or a fortress. + +_Shield-wall_, the defence made by fighting men holding their shields +close together as they stand at bay. + +_Shift_, n. a trick, cunning plan, e.g. "my cunning shifts;" n. +to contrive, be able, e.g. "the man whose heart and hand may shift, +To pluck it from the oak-wood." + +_Shimmer_, to gleam and change colour as the light alters. + +_Skerry_, a rocky island near the coast. + +_Slaked_, cooled, put out; used of anything that has been burning and +is now grown cold. + +_Sleight_, cunning, trickery. Loki is called "the Master of Sleight" +because of his skill in deceit. + +_Sleipnir_, Odin's horse. It was grey, had eight feet, and could carry +him over sea and land, and could also fly through the air. + +_Slot_, the track left by a wild animal. + +_Sloth_, idleness. + +_Smithy_, to do the work of a smith, forge weapons. + +_Sooth_, truth. + +_Sore_, very much. It is generally used about things which are evil or +painful, but sometimes only to give emphasis, e.g. "amber that the +southern men love sore." + +_Spear-hedge_, the bristling spears of an army in battle; cf. +battle-wood, spear-wood. + +_Spell-drenched_, stupefied or overwhelmed by magic. + +_Sphere-stream_, the space beyond the air of this world, in which the +planets or spheres move on their courses. + +_Stark_, stiff, hard, severe. + +_Staunch_, steadfast, unchanging. + +_Stead_, n. a place; it is often joined to other words, e.g. +hall-stead, a hall or the place where a hall has been, as in the +sentence, "I went to the pillared hall-stead;" n. _stead or +bestead_, to serve, to aid, e.g. "to stead me in the fight." + +_Steadfast_, unchanging, faithful, unmoved. + +_Stithy_, a blacksmith's forge. + +_Strait_, narrow, cramped. + +_Stripling_, a young man just grown up; cf. youngling. + +_Sunder_, to separate, e.g. "We wend on the sundering ways." + +_Sun-dog_, a bright spot like a faint image of the sun, seen near it +in cloudy weather. + +_Swaddling_, anything that wraps or enfolds, e.g. the coils of +Fafnir passing over Sigurd in the pit are called "the swaddling of +death." + +_Swart-haired_, dark-haired. + +_Swathe_, the long line of mown corn behind a reaper; cf. "swathes +of the sword," _i.e._ heaps of dead in battle. + + +_Targe_, a shield. + +_Tarry_, to wait, to linger, e.g. "Tarry till I say a word." + +_Thrall_, a slave, "_short-lived thralls of the gods_," mortal men, +not dwarfs or giants. + +_Tide_, time, e.g. "the tide when my father fell;" "the night-tide." + +_Tiles of Odin_, war shields, so called because Odin was god of war. + +_Tiller_, the handle of the rudder which steers a ship. + +_Toils_, snares, fetters. + +_To-morn_, tomorrow morning. + +_Train_, to entice, bring by trickery. + +_Tree-hole_, tree-trunk. + +_Troth_, a promise, generally a promise of marriage. + +_Troth-plight_, promised in marriage. + +_Trow_, to believe. + +_Twi-bill_, an axe with a double-edged blade. It was the weapon which +Odin carried when he appeared to men. + + +_Unbitted_, never taught to obey the bit, not broken in. + +_Unholpen_, unhelped. Holpen is the old form of the p.p. helped. + +_Unstable_, changeable, not lasting. + +_Uttermost horn_, the signal for Ragnarok. It was believed that +Heimdall, one of the gods who guarded a bridge called Bifrost between +Asgard and the earth, would blow a blast on his horn which would be +the sign for the beginning of the great battle between the gods and +the powers of evil. + + +_Venom_, poison. + + +_Wall-nook_, an opening or bend in a wall. + +_Wallow_, to roll about upon the ground, e.g. "Fafnir, the wallower +on the gold." + +_Wan_, pale, pinched with suffering. + +_Wane_, to fade away, grow dim. + +_Warding-walls_, guarding-walls. "_Warding walls of death_," man's +armour that keeps death from him. + +_Wards_, keepers, e.g. door-wards; cf. warden. Fafnir is called +"the gold-warden." + +_War-wand_, a sword. + +_Wary_, careful, ever on the watch. + +_Waste_, to destroy, to sweep away, e.g. Sigurd is said to "waste +every wrong." + +_Waxen_, grown, become. + +_Weal_, happiness, good-fortune. + +_Wedge-array_, an arrangement of fighting men in which they stood +close together in the form of a triangle. + +_Weed_, dress. + +_Well up_, to rise as a spring bubbles out of the ground; used of +feelings with the meaning "to arise and grow strong," e.g. "Wrath in +his heart wells up." + +_Welter_, the toss and ripple of the sea-waves. + +_Wend_, to go. + +_Whetted_, stirred up, made sharp or eager, e.g. "the whetted +Wrath." + +_Whileome_, in the past, once upon a time. + +_Whiles_, from time to time. + +_Whit_, a very small particle, a trifle, e.g. never a whit, no whit. + +_Wight_, a man, a creature, e.g. sea-wights, great sea-monsters. + +_Wise_, way, manner, after the fashion of. + +_Witch-wife_, witch. Wife here means woman. + +_Wold_, a hill; often used to mean open country. + +_Wood-craft_, knowledge of the woods and of all creatures in them, +e.g. "His wood-craft waxed so great, that he seemed the king of the +creatures." + +_Wot_, to know. + +_Wrack_, strife, destruction, ruins. _Wrack of a mighty battle_, the +dead left on the field. + +_Wrights_, workmen, makers. + +_Writhen_, bent, twisted out of shape, e.g. "Writhen and foul were +the hands that made it glorious." + +_Written spear_, a spear carved with letters or words. + + +_Yearn_, to long, to feel tenderness towards, e.g. "My heart to him +doth yearn." + +_Yore_, long ago; generally used in the expression "of yore," +formerly, once upon a time. + + + + + +LONGMANS' CLASS-BOOKS OF ENGLISH LITERATURE + +Each Volume contains an Introduction and Notes. + +Alcott's Little Women. + +Allen's Heroes of Indian History and Stories of their Times. With Maps +and Illustrations. + +Anderson's English Letters selected for Reading in Schools. + +Arnold's Sohrab and Rustum, and Balder Dead. + +Ballantyne's The Coral Island. (Abridged). + +Carroll's Alice in Wonderland. + +Cook's (Captain) Voyages. + +Defoe's Robinson Crusoe. (Abridged). With Illustrations. + +Dickens' A Christmas Carol. + +Dickens, Selections from. With Illustrations. + +Doyle's Micah Clarke. (Abridged). With 20 Illustrations. + +Doyle's The Refugees. (Abridged). With Illustrations. + +Doyle's The White Company. (Abridged). With 12 Illustrations. + +Fronde's Short Studies on Great Subjects. Selections. With Illustrations. + +Haggard's Eric Bright eyes. (Abridged). + +Haggard's Lysbeth. (Abridged). + +Hawthorne's A Wonder Book. + +Hawthorne's Tanglewood Tales. + +Hughes' Tom Brown's School Days. (Abridged) With Frontispiece. + +Jefferies (Richard), Selections from. + +Kingsley's The Heroes. With Illustrations. + +Kingsley's Hereward the Wake. (Abridged). + +Kingsley's Westward Ho! + +Lambs' Tales from Shakespeare. (Abridged.) + +Lang's Tales of the Greek Seas. With Illustrations. + +Lang's Tales of Troy. With Illustrations and a Map. + +Macaulay's History of England. Chap I. + +Macaulay's History of England. Chap III. + +Macaulay's History of England, Selections from. + +Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome, &c. + +Marryat's Settlers in Canada. + +Milton's Paradise Lost. Books I, II, III, IV, and V. + +Milton's Comus, Il Penseroso, L'Allegro and Lycidas. + +Morris's Atalanta's Race, and The Proud King. + +Morris's The Man Born to be King. + +Morris's The Story of the Glittering Plain. + +Morris's The Story of Sigurd the Volsung. + +Newman, Literary Selections from. + +Reade's The Cloister and the Hearth. + +Ruskin's King of the Golden River. + +Scott's Lay of the Last Minstrel. + +Scott's Marmion. + +Scott's The Lady of the Lake. + +Scott's The Talisman. (Abridged). + +Scott's A Legend of Montrose. (Abridged). + +Scott's Ivanhoe. (Abridged). + +Scott's Quentin Durward. (Abridged). + +Southey's The Life of Nelson. + +Stevenson's Book of Selections. + +Stevenson's A Child's Garden of Verse. With a Portrait. + +Tales of King Arthur and the Round Table. With Illustrations. + +Thackeray, Selections from. + +Thornton's Selection of Poetry. + +Weyman's The House of the Wolf. + +Zimmern's Gods and Heroes of the North. With Illustrations. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF SIGURD THE VOLSUNG*** + + +******* This file should be named 13486.txt or 13486.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/4/8/13486 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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