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.Yea, because my womb is wealthy with a gift for the days to be.Now do this deed for mine asking and the tale shall be told of thee."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 war-faringAnd 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 crownèd 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 fieldWas 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 meadThey 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 doneWith 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 badeThat 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."So there lies Sigmund the Volsung, and far away, forlornAre the blossomed boughs of the Branstock, and the house where he was born.To what end was wrought that roof-ridge, and the rings of the silver door,And the fair-carved golden high-seat, and the many-pictured floorWorn down by the feet of the Volsungs? or the hangings of delight,Or the marvel of its harp-strings, or the Dwarf-wrought beakers bright?Then the Gods have fashioned a folk who have fashioned a house in vain;It is nought, and for nought they battled, and nought was their joy and their pain,Lo, the noble oak of the forest with his feet in the flowers and grass,How the winds that bear the summer o'er its topmost branches pass,And the wood-deer dwell beneath it, and the fowl in its fair twigs sing,And there it stands in the forest, an exceeding glorious thing:Then come the axes of men, and low it lies on the ground,And the crane comes out of the southland, and its nest is nowhere found,And bare and shorn of its blossoms is the house of the deer of the wood.But the tree is a golden dragon; and fair it floats on the flood,And beareth the kings and the earl-folk, and is shield-hung all without:And it seeth the blaze of the beacons, and heareth the war-God's shout.There are tidings wherever it cometh, and the tale of its time shall be toldA dear name it hath got like a king, and a fame that groweth not old.Lo, such is the Volsung dwelling; lo, such is the deed he hath wroughtWho laboured all his life-days, and had rest but little or nought,Who died in the broken battle; who lies with swordless handIn the realm that the foe hath conquered on the edge of a stranger-land.
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.Yea, because my womb is wealthy with a gift for the days to be.Now do this deed for mine asking and the tale shall be told of thee."
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 war-faringAnd 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 crownèd 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 fieldWas 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 meadThey 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 doneWith 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 badeThat 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."
So there lies Sigmund the Volsung, and far away, forlornAre the blossomed boughs of the Branstock, and the house where he was born.To what end was wrought that roof-ridge, and the rings of the silver door,And the fair-carved golden high-seat, and the many-pictured floorWorn down by the feet of the Volsungs? or the hangings of delight,Or the marvel of its harp-strings, or the Dwarf-wrought beakers bright?Then the Gods have fashioned a folk who have fashioned a house in vain;It is nought, and for nought they battled, and nought was their joy and their pain,Lo, the noble oak of the forest with his feet in the flowers and grass,How the winds that bear the summer o'er its topmost branches pass,And the wood-deer dwell beneath it, and the fowl in its fair twigs sing,And there it stands in the forest, an exceeding glorious thing:Then come the axes of men, and low it lies on the ground,And the crane comes out of the southland, and its nest is nowhere found,And bare and shorn of its blossoms is the house of the deer of the wood.But the tree is a golden dragon; and fair it floats on the flood,And beareth the kings and the earl-folk, and is shield-hung all without:And it seeth the blaze of the beacons, and heareth the war-God's shout.There are tidings wherever it cometh, and the tale of its time shall be toldA dear name it hath got like a king, and a fame that groweth not old.
Lo, such is the Volsung dwelling; lo, such is the deed he hath wroughtWho laboured all his life-days, and had rest but little or nought,Who died in the broken battle; who lies with swordless handIn the realm that the foe hath conquered on the edge of a stranger-land.
Now asketh the king of those women where now in the world they will go,And Hiordis speaks for the twain; "This is now but a land of the foeAnd our lady and Queen beseecheth that unto thine house we wendAnd that there thou serve her kingly that her woes may have an end."Fain then was the heart of the folk-king, and he bade aboard forth-right.And they hoist the sails to the wind and sail by day and by nightTill they come to a land of the people, and a goodly land it isWhere folk may dwell unharried and win abundant bliss,The land of King Elf and the Helper; and there he bids them abideIn his house that is goodly shapen, and wrought full high and wide:And he biddeth the Queen be merry, and set aside her woe,And he doth by them better and better, as day on day doth go.Now there was the mother of Elf, and a woman wise was she,And she spake to her son of a morning: "I have noted them heedfully.Those women thou broughtst from the outlands, and fain now would I wotWhy the worser of the women the goodlier gear hath got."He said: "She hath named her Hiordis, the wife of the mightiest king,E'en Sigmund the son of Volsung with whose name the world doth ring."Then the old queen laughed and answered: "Is it not so, my son.That the handmaid still gave counsel when aught of deeds was done?"He said: "Yea, she spake mostly; and her words were exceeding wise.And measureless sweet I deem her, and dear she is to mine eyes."But she said: "Do after my counsel, and win thee a goodly queen:Speak ye to the twain unwary, and the truth shall soon be seen,And again shall they shift their raiment, if I am aught but a fool."He said: "Thou sayst well, mother, and settest me well to school."So he spake on a day to the women, and said to the gold-clad one:"How wottest thou in the winter of the coming of the sunWhen yet the world is darkling?"She said: "In the days of my youthI dwelt in the house of my father, and fair was the tide forsooth,And ever I woke at the dawning, for folk betimes must stir,Be the meadows bright or darksome; and I drank of the whey-tub thereAs much as the heart desired; and now, though changed be the days,I wake athirst in the dawning, because of my wonted ways."Then laughed King Elf and answered: "A fashion strange enow,That the feet of the fair queen's-daughter must forth to follow the plough,Be the acres bright or darkling! But thou with the eyes of grey.What sign hast thou to tell thee, that the night wears into dayWhen the heavens are mirk as the midnight?"Said she, "In the days that wereMy father gave me this gold-ring ye see on my finger here.And a marvel goeth with it: for when night waxeth oldI feel it on my finger grown most exceeding cold,And I know day comes through the darkness; and such is my dawning sign."Then laughed King Elf and answered: "Thy father's house was fine;There was gold enough meseemeth—But come now, say the wordAnd tell me the speech thou spakest awrong mine ears have heard,And that thou wert the wife of Sigmund the wife of the mightiest King."No whit she smiled, but answered. "Indeed thou sayst the thing:Such a wealth I had in my storehouse that I feared the Kings of men."He said: "Yet for nought didst thou hide thee; had I known of the matter then,As the daughter of my father had I held thee in good sooth,For dear to mine eyes wert thou waxen, and my heart of thy woe was ruth.But now shall I deal with thee better than thy dealings to me have been:For my wife I will bid thee to be, and the people's very queen."She said: "When the son of King Sigmund is brought forth to the light of dayAnd the world a man hath gotten, thy will shall I nought gainsay.And I thank thee for thy goodness, and I know the love of thine heart;And I see thy goodly kingdom, thy country set apart,With the day of peace begirdled from the change and the battle's wrack:'Tis enough, and more than enough since none prayeth the past aback."Then the King is fain and merry, and he deems his errand sped,And that night she sits on the high-seat with the crown on her shapely head:And amidst the song and the joyance, and the sound of the people's praise,She thinks of the days that have been, and she dreams of the coming days.So passeth the summer season, and the harvest of the year,And the latter days of the winter on toward the springtide wear.
Now asketh the king of those women where now in the world they will go,And Hiordis speaks for the twain; "This is now but a land of the foeAnd our lady and Queen beseecheth that unto thine house we wendAnd that there thou serve her kingly that her woes may have an end."
Fain then was the heart of the folk-king, and he bade aboard forth-right.And they hoist the sails to the wind and sail by day and by nightTill they come to a land of the people, and a goodly land it isWhere folk may dwell unharried and win abundant bliss,The land of King Elf and the Helper; and there he bids them abideIn his house that is goodly shapen, and wrought full high and wide:And he biddeth the Queen be merry, and set aside her woe,And he doth by them better and better, as day on day doth go.
Now there was the mother of Elf, and a woman wise was she,And she spake to her son of a morning: "I have noted them heedfully.Those women thou broughtst from the outlands, and fain now would I wotWhy the worser of the women the goodlier gear hath got."
He said: "She hath named her Hiordis, the wife of the mightiest king,E'en Sigmund the son of Volsung with whose name the world doth ring."
Then the old queen laughed and answered: "Is it not so, my son.That the handmaid still gave counsel when aught of deeds was done?"
He said: "Yea, she spake mostly; and her words were exceeding wise.And measureless sweet I deem her, and dear she is to mine eyes."
But she said: "Do after my counsel, and win thee a goodly queen:Speak ye to the twain unwary, and the truth shall soon be seen,And again shall they shift their raiment, if I am aught but a fool."
He said: "Thou sayst well, mother, and settest me well to school."So he spake on a day to the women, and said to the gold-clad one:"How wottest thou in the winter of the coming of the sunWhen yet the world is darkling?"She said: "In the days of my youthI dwelt in the house of my father, and fair was the tide forsooth,And ever I woke at the dawning, for folk betimes must stir,Be the meadows bright or darksome; and I drank of the whey-tub thereAs much as the heart desired; and now, though changed be the days,I wake athirst in the dawning, because of my wonted ways."
Then laughed King Elf and answered: "A fashion strange enow,That the feet of the fair queen's-daughter must forth to follow the plough,Be the acres bright or darkling! But thou with the eyes of grey.What sign hast thou to tell thee, that the night wears into dayWhen the heavens are mirk as the midnight?"Said she, "In the days that wereMy father gave me this gold-ring ye see on my finger here.And a marvel goeth with it: for when night waxeth oldI feel it on my finger grown most exceeding cold,And I know day comes through the darkness; and such is my dawning sign."
Then laughed King Elf and answered: "Thy father's house was fine;There was gold enough meseemeth—But come now, say the wordAnd tell me the speech thou spakest awrong mine ears have heard,And that thou wert the wife of Sigmund the wife of the mightiest King."
No whit she smiled, but answered. "Indeed thou sayst the thing:Such a wealth I had in my storehouse that I feared the Kings of men."
He said: "Yet for nought didst thou hide thee; had I known of the matter then,As the daughter of my father had I held thee in good sooth,For dear to mine eyes wert thou waxen, and my heart of thy woe was ruth.But now shall I deal with thee better than thy dealings to me have been:For my wife I will bid thee to be, and the people's very queen."
She said: "When the son of King Sigmund is brought forth to the light of dayAnd the world a man hath gotten, thy will shall I nought gainsay.And I thank thee for thy goodness, and I know the love of thine heart;And I see thy goodly kingdom, thy country set apart,With the day of peace begirdled from the change and the battle's wrack:'Tis enough, and more than enough since none prayeth the past aback."
Then the King is fain and merry, and he deems his errand sped,And that night she sits on the high-seat with the crown on her shapely head:And amidst the song and the joyance, and the sound of the people's praise,She thinks of the days that have been, and she dreams of the coming days.
So passeth the summer season, and the harvest of the year,And the latter days of the winter on toward the springtide wear.
now this is the first book of the life and death of sigurd the volsung, and therein is told of the birth of him, and of his dealings with regin the master of masters, and of his deeds in the waste places of the earth.
now this is the first book of the life and death of sigurd the volsung, and therein is told of the birth of him, and of his dealings with regin the master of masters, and of his deeds in the waste places of the earth.
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 noon-tide 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 landWith 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 tellWhat things in their dales deserted and their wind-swept heaths may dwell.Now a man of the Kings, called Gripir, in this land of peace abode:The son of the Helper's father, though never lay his loadIn the womb of the mother of Kings that the Helper's brethren bore;But of Giant kin was his mother, of the folk that are seen no more;Though whiles as ye ride some fell-road across the heath there comesThe voice of their lone lamenting o'er their changed and conquered homes.A long way off from the sea-strand and beneath the mountains' feetIs the high-built hall of Gripir, where the waste and the tillage meet;A noble and plentiful house, that a little men-folk fear.But beloved of the crag-dwelling eagles and the kin of the woodland deer.A man of few words was Gripir, but he knew of all deeds that had been,And times there came upon him, when the deeds to be were seen:No sword had he held in his hand since his father fell to field,And against the life of the slayer he bore undinted shield:Yet no fear in his heart abided, nor desired he aught at all,But he noted the deeds that had been, and looked for what should befall.Again, in the house of the Helper there dwelt a certain manBeardless and low of stature, of visage pinched and wan:So exceeding old was Regin, that no son of man could tellIn 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 delightWith 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 abideth Hiordis amid all people's praiseTill cometh the time appointed: in the fulness of the daysThrough the dark and the dusk she travailed, till at last in the dawning hourHave the deeds of the Volsungs blossomed, and born their latest flower;In the bed there lieth a man-child, and his eyes look straight on the sun,And lo, the hope of the people, and the days of a king are begun.Men say of the serving-women, when they cried on the joy of the morn,When they handled the linen raiment, and washed the king new-born,When they bore him back unto Hiordis, and the weary and happy breast,And bade her be glad to behold it, how the best was sprung from the best,Yet they shrank in their rejoicing before the eyes of the child,So bright and dreadful were they; yea though the spring morn smiled,And a thousand birds were singing round the fair familiar home,And still as on other mornings they saw folk go and come,Yet the hour seemed awful to them, and the hearts within them burnedAs though of fateful matters their souls were newly learned.But Hiordis looked on the Volsung, on her grief and her fond desire,And the hope of her heart was quickened, and her joy was a living fire;And she said: "Now one of the earthly on the eyes of my child hath gazedNor shrunk before their glory, nor stayed her love amazed:I behold thee as Sigmund beholdeth,—and I was the home of thine heart—Woe's me for the day when thou wert not, and the hour when we shall part!"Then she held him a little season on her weary and happy breastAnd she told him of Sigmund and Volsung and the best sprung forth from the best:She spake to the new-born baby as one who might understand,And told him of Sigmund's battle, and the dead by the sea-flood's strand,And of all the wars passed over, and the light with darkness blent.So she spake, and the sun rose higher, and her speech at last was spent,And she gave him back to the women to bear forth to the people's kings,That they too may rejoice in her glory and her day of happy things.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!""Lo, son," said the ancient Helper, "glad sit the earls and the lords!Lookst thou not for a token of tidings to follow such-like words?"Saith King Elf: "Great words of women! or great hath our dwelling become."Said the women: "Words shall be greater, when all folk shall praise our home.""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."Said a young man: "Will ye be telling that all we shall die no more?""Nay," they answered, "nay, who knoweth but the change may be hard at the door?""Come ships from the sea," said an elder, "with all gifts of the Eastland gold?""Was there less than enough," said the women, "when last our treasure was told?""Speak then," said the ancient Helper, "let the worst and the best be said."Quoth they: "'Tis the Queen of the Isle-folk, she is weary-sick on her bed."Said King Elf: "Yet ye come rejoicing; what more lieth under the tongue?"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 steppedAnd 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;For the eyes of the child gleamed on him till he was as one who seesThe very Gods arising mid their carven images:To his ears there came a murmur of far seas beneath the windAnd the tramp of fierce-eyed warriors through the outland forest blind;The sound of hosts of battle, cries round the hoisted shield,Low talk of the gathered wise-ones in the Goth-folk's holy field:So the thought in a little moment through King Elf the mighty ranOf the years and their building and burden, and toil of the sons of man,The joy of folk and their sorrow, and the hope of deeds to do: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.But the Queen in her golden chamber, the name she hearkened and knewAnd she heard the flock of the women, as back to the chamber they drew,And the name of Sigurd entered, and the body of Sigurd was come,And it was as if Sigmund were living and she still in her lovely home;Of all folk of the world was she well, and a soul fulfilled of restAs alone in the chamber she wakened and Sigurd cherished her breast.But men feast in the merry noontide, and glad is the April greenThat a Volsung looks on the sunlight and the night and the darkness have been.Earls think of marvellous stories, and along the golden stringsFlit words of banded brethren and names of war-fain Kings:All the days of the deeds of Sigmund who was born so long ago;All deeds of the glorious Signy, and her tarrying-tide of woe;Men tell of the years of Volsung, and how long agone it wasThat he changed his life in battle, and brought the tale to pass:Then goeth the word of the Giants, and the world seems waxen oldFor the dimness of King Rerir and the tale of his warfare told:Yet unhushed are the singers' voices, nor yet the harp-strings ceaseWhile yet is left a rumour of the mirk-wood's broken peace,And of Sigi the very ancient, and the unnamed Sons of God,Of the days when the Lords of Heaven full oft the world-ways trod.So stilleth the wind in the even and the sun sinks down in the sea,And men abide the morrow and the Victory yet to be.
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 noon-tide 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 landWith 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 tellWhat things in their dales deserted and their wind-swept heaths may dwell.
Now a man of the Kings, called Gripir, in this land of peace abode:The son of the Helper's father, though never lay his loadIn the womb of the mother of Kings that the Helper's brethren bore;But of Giant kin was his mother, of the folk that are seen no more;Though whiles as ye ride some fell-road across the heath there comesThe voice of their lone lamenting o'er their changed and conquered homes.A long way off from the sea-strand and beneath the mountains' feetIs the high-built hall of Gripir, where the waste and the tillage meet;A noble and plentiful house, that a little men-folk fear.But beloved of the crag-dwelling eagles and the kin of the woodland deer.A man of few words was Gripir, but he knew of all deeds that had been,And times there came upon him, when the deeds to be were seen:No sword had he held in his hand since his father fell to field,And against the life of the slayer he bore undinted shield:Yet no fear in his heart abided, nor desired he aught at all,But he noted the deeds that had been, and looked for what should befall.
Again, in the house of the Helper there dwelt a certain manBeardless and low of stature, of visage pinched and wan:So exceeding old was Regin, that no son of man could tellIn 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 delightWith 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 abideth Hiordis amid all people's praiseTill cometh the time appointed: in the fulness of the daysThrough the dark and the dusk she travailed, till at last in the dawning hourHave the deeds of the Volsungs blossomed, and born their latest flower;In the bed there lieth a man-child, and his eyes look straight on the sun,And lo, the hope of the people, and the days of a king are begun.
Men say of the serving-women, when they cried on the joy of the morn,When they handled the linen raiment, and washed the king new-born,When they bore him back unto Hiordis, and the weary and happy breast,And bade her be glad to behold it, how the best was sprung from the best,Yet they shrank in their rejoicing before the eyes of the child,So bright and dreadful were they; yea though the spring morn smiled,And a thousand birds were singing round the fair familiar home,And still as on other mornings they saw folk go and come,Yet the hour seemed awful to them, and the hearts within them burnedAs though of fateful matters their souls were newly learned.
But Hiordis looked on the Volsung, on her grief and her fond desire,And the hope of her heart was quickened, and her joy was a living fire;And she said: "Now one of the earthly on the eyes of my child hath gazedNor shrunk before their glory, nor stayed her love amazed:I behold thee as Sigmund beholdeth,—and I was the home of thine heart—Woe's me for the day when thou wert not, and the hour when we shall part!"
Then she held him a little season on her weary and happy breastAnd she told him of Sigmund and Volsung and the best sprung forth from the best:She spake to the new-born baby as one who might understand,And told him of Sigmund's battle, and the dead by the sea-flood's strand,And of all the wars passed over, and the light with darkness blent.
So she spake, and the sun rose higher, and her speech at last was spent,And she gave him back to the women to bear forth to the people's kings,That they too may rejoice in her glory and her day of happy things.
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!"
"Lo, son," said the ancient Helper, "glad sit the earls and the lords!Lookst thou not for a token of tidings to follow such-like words?"
Saith King Elf: "Great words of women! or great hath our dwelling become."
Said the women: "Words shall be greater, when all folk shall praise our home."
"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."
Said a young man: "Will ye be telling that all we shall die no more?"
"Nay," they answered, "nay, who knoweth but the change may be hard at the door?"
"Come ships from the sea," said an elder, "with all gifts of the Eastland gold?"
"Was there less than enough," said the women, "when last our treasure was told?"
"Speak then," said the ancient Helper, "let the worst and the best be said."
Quoth they: "'Tis the Queen of the Isle-folk, she is weary-sick on her bed."
Said King Elf: "Yet ye come rejoicing; what more lieth under the tongue?"
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 steppedAnd 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;For the eyes of the child gleamed on him till he was as one who seesThe very Gods arising mid their carven images:
To his ears there came a murmur of far seas beneath the windAnd the tramp of fierce-eyed warriors through the outland forest blind;The sound of hosts of battle, cries round the hoisted shield,Low talk of the gathered wise-ones in the Goth-folk's holy field:So the thought in a little moment through King Elf the mighty ranOf the years and their building and burden, and toil of the sons of man,The joy of folk and their sorrow, and the hope of deeds to do: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.
But the Queen in her golden chamber, the name she hearkened and knewAnd she heard the flock of the women, as back to the chamber they drew,And the name of Sigurd entered, and the body of Sigurd was come,And it was as if Sigmund were living and she still in her lovely home;Of all folk of the world was she well, and a soul fulfilled of restAs alone in the chamber she wakened and Sigurd cherished her breast.
But men feast in the merry noontide, and glad is the April greenThat a Volsung looks on the sunlight and the night and the darkness have been.Earls think of marvellous stories, and along the golden stringsFlit words of banded brethren and names of war-fain Kings:All the days of the deeds of Sigmund who was born so long ago;All deeds of the glorious Signy, and her tarrying-tide of woe;Men tell of the years of Volsung, and how long agone it wasThat he changed his life in battle, and brought the tale to pass:Then goeth the word of the Giants, and the world seems waxen oldFor the dimness of King Rerir and the tale of his warfare told:Yet unhushed are the singers' voices, nor yet the harp-strings ceaseWhile yet is left a rumour of the mirk-wood's broken peace,And of Sigi the very ancient, and the unnamed Sons of God,Of the days when the Lords of Heaven full oft the world-ways trod.
So stilleth the wind in the even and the sun sinks down in the sea,And men abide the morrow and the Victory yet to be.
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 wedTo 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 witAnd full of understanding, and oft hath he joy to sitAmid 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 lieWhen 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.On a day he sat with Regin amidst the unfashioned gold,And the silver grey from the furnace; and Regin spake and toldSweet tales of the days that have been, and the Kings of the bold and wise;Till the lad's heart swelled with longing and lit his sunbright eyes.Then Regin looked upon him: "Thou too shalt one day rideAs the Volsung Kings went faring through the noble world and wide.For this land is nought and narrow, and Kings of the carles are these.And their earls are acre-biders, and their hearts are dull with peace."But Sigurd knit his brows, and in wrathful wise he said:"Ill words of those thou speakest that my youth have cherished.And the friends that have made me merry, and the land that is fair and good."Then Regin laughed and answered: "Nay, well I see by thy moodThat wide wilt thou ride in the world like thy kin of the earlier days:And wilt thou be wroth with thy master that he longs for thy winning the praise?And now if the sooth thou sayest, that these King-folk cherish thee well,Then let them give thee a gift whereof the world shall tell:Yea hearken to this my counsel, and crave for a battle-steed."Yet wroth was the lad and answered: "I have many a horse to my need,And all that the heart desireth, and what wouldst thou wish me more?"Then Regin answered and said: "Thy kin of the Kings of yoreWere the noblest men of men-folk; and their hearts would never restWhatso of good they had gotten, if their hands held not the best.Now do thou after my counsel, and crave of thy fosterers hereThat thou choose of the horses of Gripir whichso thine heart holds dear."He spake and his harp was with him, and he smote the strings full sweet,And sang of the host of the Valkyrs, how they ride the battle to meet,And the dew from the dear manes drippeth as they ride in the first of the sun,And the tree-boughs open to meet it when the wind of the dawning is done:And the deep dales drink its sweetness and spring into blossoming grass,And the earth groweth fruitful of men, and bringeth their glory to pass.Then the wrath ran off from Sigurd, and he left the smithying steadWhile the song yet rang in the doorway: and that eve to the Kings he said:"Will ye do so much for mine asking as to give me a horse to my will?For belike the days shall come, that shall all my heart fulfill,And teach me the deeds of a king."Then answered King Elf and spake:"The stalls of the Kings are before thee to set aside or to take,And nought we begrudge thee the best."Yet answered Sigurd again;For his heart of the mountains aloft and the windy drift was fain:"Fair seats for the knees of Kings! but now do I ask for a giftSuch as all the world shall be praising, the best of the strong and the swiftYe shall give me a token for Gripir, and bid him to let me chooseFrom out of the noble stud-beasts that run in his meadow loose.But if overmuch I have asked you, forget this prayer of mine,And deem the word unspoken, and get ye to the wine."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 shalt thou winThe praise of many a people: so have thy way herein.Forsooth no more may we hold thee than the hazel copse may holdThe sun of the early dawning, that turneth it all unto gold."Then sweetly Sigurd thanked them; and through the night he layMid 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 leftAnd wended his ways unto Gripir. On a crag from the mountain reftWas 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 setIn a chair of the sea-beast's tooth; and his sweeping beard nigh metThe 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 to-day 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,And be glad as thine heart will have thee and the fate that leadeth thee on,And I bid thee again come hither when the sword of worth is won,And thy loins are girt for thy going on the road that before thee lies;For a glimmering over its darkness is come before mine eyes."Then again gat Sigurd outward, and adown the steep he ranAnd 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 sayA word that shall well bestead thee: for I know of these mountains wellAnd 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 menMy 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 onTill they came to a rushing river, a water wide and wan;And the white mews hovered o'er it; but none might hear their cryFor 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 greyToss over the flowery meadows, a bright thing far away:Wide then he wheeled about them, then took the stream againAnd 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 nowTo 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 aroseAs he brushed through the noon-tide 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.
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 wedTo 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 witAnd full of understanding, and oft hath he joy to sitAmid 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 lieWhen 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.
On a day he sat with Regin amidst the unfashioned gold,And the silver grey from the furnace; and Regin spake and toldSweet tales of the days that have been, and the Kings of the bold and wise;Till the lad's heart swelled with longing and lit his sunbright eyes.
Then Regin looked upon him: "Thou too shalt one day rideAs the Volsung Kings went faring through the noble world and wide.For this land is nought and narrow, and Kings of the carles are these.And their earls are acre-biders, and their hearts are dull with peace."
But Sigurd knit his brows, and in wrathful wise he said:"Ill words of those thou speakest that my youth have cherished.And the friends that have made me merry, and the land that is fair and good."
Then Regin laughed and answered: "Nay, well I see by thy moodThat wide wilt thou ride in the world like thy kin of the earlier days:And wilt thou be wroth with thy master that he longs for thy winning the praise?And now if the sooth thou sayest, that these King-folk cherish thee well,Then let them give thee a gift whereof the world shall tell:Yea hearken to this my counsel, and crave for a battle-steed."
Yet wroth was the lad and answered: "I have many a horse to my need,And all that the heart desireth, and what wouldst thou wish me more?"
Then Regin answered and said: "Thy kin of the Kings of yoreWere the noblest men of men-folk; and their hearts would never restWhatso of good they had gotten, if their hands held not the best.Now do thou after my counsel, and crave of thy fosterers hereThat thou choose of the horses of Gripir whichso thine heart holds dear."
He spake and his harp was with him, and he smote the strings full sweet,And sang of the host of the Valkyrs, how they ride the battle to meet,And the dew from the dear manes drippeth as they ride in the first of the sun,And the tree-boughs open to meet it when the wind of the dawning is done:And the deep dales drink its sweetness and spring into blossoming grass,And the earth groweth fruitful of men, and bringeth their glory to pass.
Then the wrath ran off from Sigurd, and he left the smithying steadWhile the song yet rang in the doorway: and that eve to the Kings he said:"Will ye do so much for mine asking as to give me a horse to my will?For belike the days shall come, that shall all my heart fulfill,And teach me the deeds of a king."
Then answered King Elf and spake:"The stalls of the Kings are before thee to set aside or to take,And nought we begrudge thee the best."
Yet answered Sigurd again;For his heart of the mountains aloft and the windy drift was fain:"Fair seats for the knees of Kings! but now do I ask for a giftSuch as all the world shall be praising, the best of the strong and the swiftYe shall give me a token for Gripir, and bid him to let me chooseFrom out of the noble stud-beasts that run in his meadow loose.But if overmuch I have asked you, forget this prayer of mine,And deem the word unspoken, and get ye to the wine."
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 shalt thou winThe praise of many a people: so have thy way herein.Forsooth no more may we hold thee than the hazel copse may holdThe sun of the early dawning, that turneth it all unto gold."
Then sweetly Sigurd thanked them; and through the night he layMid 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 leftAnd wended his ways unto Gripir. On a crag from the mountain reftWas 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 setIn a chair of the sea-beast's tooth; and his sweeping beard nigh metThe 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 to-day 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,And be glad as thine heart will have thee and the fate that leadeth thee on,And I bid thee again come hither when the sword of worth is won,And thy loins are girt for thy going on the road that before thee lies;For a glimmering over its darkness is come before mine eyes."
Then again gat Sigurd outward, and adown the steep he ranAnd 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 sayA word that shall well bestead thee: for I know of these mountains wellAnd 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 menMy 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 onTill they came to a rushing river, a water wide and wan;And the white mews hovered o'er it; but none might hear their cryFor 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 greyToss over the flowery meadows, a bright thing far away:Wide then he wheeled about them, then took the stream againAnd 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 nowTo 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 aroseAs he brushed through the noon-tide 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.