So there are those kings abiding, and they think of nought but the dayWhen the time at last shall serve them, to wend on the perilous way.And so in the first of winter, when nights grow long and mirk,They fare unto Siggeir's dwelling and seek wherein to lurk.And by hap 'twas the tide of twilight, ere the watch of the night was setAnd the watch of the day was departed, as Sinfiotli minded yetSo now by a passage he wotted they gat them into the bowerWhere lay the biggest wine-tuns, and there they abode the hour:Anigh to the hall it was, but no man came thereto,But now and again the cup-lord when King Siggeir's wine he drew:Yea and so nigh to the feast-hall, that they saw the torches shineWhen the cup-lord was departed with King Siggeir's dear-bought wine,And they heard the glee of the people, and the horns and the beakers' din,When the feast was dight in the hall and the earls were merry therein.Calm was the face of Sigmund, and clear were his eyes and bright;But Sinfiotli gnawed on his shield-rim, and his face was haggard and white:For he deemed the time full long, ere the fallow blades should leapIn the hush of the midnight feast-hall o'er King Siggeir's golden sleep.Now it fell that two little children, Queen Signy's youngest-born,Were about the hall that even, and amid the glee of the hornThey played with a golden toy, and trundled it here and there,And thus to that lurking-bower they drew exceeding near,When there fell a ring from their toy, and swiftly rolled awayAnd into the place of the wine-tuns, and by Sigmund's feet made stay;Then the little ones followed after, and came to the lurking-placeWhere lay those night-abiders, and met them face to face,And fled, ere they might hold them, aback to the thronging hall.Then leapt those twain to their feet lest the sword and the murder fallOn their hearts in their narrow lair and they die without a stroke;But e'en as they met the torch-light and the din and tumult of folk,Lo there on the very threshold did Signy the Volsung stand,And one of her last-born children she had on either hand;For the children had cried: "We have seen them—those two among the wine,And their hats are wide and white, and their garments tinkle and shine."So while men ran to their weapons, those children Signy took,And went to meet her kinsmen: then once more did Sigmund lookOn the face of his father's daughter, and kind of heart he grew,As the clash of the coming battle anigh the doomed men drew:But wan and fell was Signy; and she cried:"The end is near!—And thou with the smile on thy face and the joyful eyes and clear!But with these thy two betrayers first stain the edge of fight,For why should the fruit of my body outlive my soul tonight?"But he cried in the front of the spear-hedge; "Nay this shall be far from meTo slay thy children sackless, though my death belike they be.Now men will be dealing, sister, and old the night is grown,And fair in the house of my fathers the benches are bestrown."So she stood aside and gazed: but Sinfiotli taketh them upAnd breaketh each tender body as a drunkard breaketh a cup;With a dreadful voice he crieth, and casteth them down the hall,And the Goth-folk sunder before them, and at Siggeir's feet they fall.But the fallow blades leapt naked, and on the battle came,As the tide of the winter ocean sweeps up to the beaconing flame.But firm in the midst of onset Sigmund the Volsung stood,And stirred no more for the sword-strokes than the oldest oak of the woodShall shake to the herd-boys' whittles: white danced his war-flame's gleam,And oft to men's beholding his eyes of God would beamClear from the sword-blades' tangle, and often for a spaceAmazed the garth of murder stared deedless on his face;Nor back nor forward moved he: but fierce Sinfiotli wentWhere the spears were set the thickest, and sword with sword was blent;And great was the death before him, till he slipped in the blood and fell:Then the shield-garth compassed Sigmund, and short is the tale to tell;For they bore him down unwounded, and bonds about him cast:Nor sore hurt is Sinfiotli, but is hoppled strait and fast.Then the Goth-folk went to slumber when the hall was washed from blood:But a long while wakened Siggeir, for fell and fierce was his mood,And all the days of his kingship seemed nothing worth as thenWhile fared the son of Volsung as well as the worst of men,While yet that son of Signy lay untormented there:Yea the past days of his kingship seemed blossomless and bareSince all their might had failed him to quench the Volsung kin.So when the first grey dawning a new day did begin,King Siggeir bade his bondsmen to dight an earthen moundAnigh to the house of the Goth-kings amid the fruit-grown ground:And that house of death was twofold, for 'twas sundered by a stoneInto two woeful chambers: alone and not aloneThose vanquished thralls of battle therein should bide their hour,That each might hear the tidings of the other's baleful bower,Yet have no might to help him. So now the twain they broughtAnd weary-dull was Sinfiotli, with eyes that looked at nought.But Sigmund fresh and clear-eyed went to the deadly hall,And the song arose within him as he sat within its wall;Nor aught durst Siggeir mock him, as he had good will to do,But went his ways when the bondmen brought the roofing turfs thereto.And that was at eve of the day; and lo now, Signy the whiteWan-faced and eager-eyed stole through the beginning of nightTo the place where the builders built, and the thralls with lingering handsHad roofed in the grave of Sigmund and hidden the glory of lands,But over the head of Sinfiotli for a space were the rafters bare.Gold then to the thralls she gave, and promised them days full fairIf they held their peace for ever of the deed that then she did:And nothing they gainsayed it; so she drew forth something hid,In wrappings of wheat-straw winded, and into Sinfiotli's placeShe cast it all down swiftly; then she covereth up her faceAnd beneath the winter starlight she wended swift away.But her gift do the thralls deem victual, and the thatch on the hall they lay,And depart, they too, to their slumber, now dight was the dwelling of death.Then Sigmund hears Sinfiotli, how he cries through the stone and saith:"Best unto babe is mother, well sayeth the elder's saw;Here hath Signy sent me swine's-flesh in windings of wheaten straw."And again he held him silent of bitter words or of sweet;And quoth Sigmund, "What hath betided? is an adder in the meat?"Then loud his fosterling laughed: "Yea, a worm of bitter tooth,The serpent of the Branstock, the sword of thy days of youth!I have felt the hilts aforetime; I have felt how the letters runOn each side of the trench of blood and the point of that glorious one.O mother, O mother of kings! we shall live and our days shall be sweet!I have loved thee well aforetime, I shall love thee more when we meet."Then Sigmund heard the sword-point smite on the stone wall's side,And slowly mid the darkness therethrough he heard it grideAs against it bore Sinfiotli: but he cried out at the last:"It biteth, O my fosterer! It cleaves the earth-bone fast!Now learn we the craft of the masons that another day may comeWhen we build a house for King Siggeir, a strait unlovely home."Then in the grave-mound's darkness did Sigmund the king upstand;And unto that saw of battle he set his naked hand;And hard the gift of Odin home to their breasts they drew;Sawed Sigmund, sawed Sinfiotli, till the stone was cleft atwo,And they met and kissed together: then they hewed and heaved full hardTill lo, through the bursten rafters the winter heavens bestarred!And they leap out merry-hearted; nor is there need to sayA many words between them of whither was the way.For they took the night-watch sleeping, and slew them one and allAnd then on the winter fagots they made them haste to fall,They pile the oak-trees cloven, and when the oak-beams failThey bear the ash and the rowan, and build a mighty baleAbout the dwelling of Siggeir, and lay the torch therein.Then they drew their swords and watched it till the flames began to winHard on to the mid-hall's rafters, and those feasters of the folk,As the fire-flakes fell among them, to their last of days awoke.By the gable-door stood Sigmund, and fierce Sinfiotli stoodRed-lit by the door of the women in the lane of blazing wood:To death each doorway opened, and death was in the hall.Then amid the gathered Goth-folk 'gan Siggeir the king to call:"Who lit the fire I burn in, and what shall buy me peace?Will ye take my heaped-up treasure, or ten years of my fields' increase,Or half of my father's kingdom? O toilers at the oar,O wasters of the sea-plain, now labour ye no more!But take the gifts I bid you, and lie upon the gold,And clothe your limbs in purple and the silken women hold!"But a great voice cried o'er the fire: "Nay, no such men are we,No tuggers at the hawser, no wasters of the sea:We will have the gold and the purple when we list such things to winBut now we think on our fathers, and avenging of our kin.Not all King Siggeir's kingdom, and not all the world's increaseFor ever and for ever, shall buy thee life and peace.For now is the tree-bough blossomed that sprang from murder's seed;And the death-doomed and the buried are they that do the deed;Now when the dead shall ask thee by whom thy days were done,Thou shalt say by Sigmund the Volsung, and Sinfiotli, Signy's son."Then stark fear fell on the earl-folk, and silent they abideAmid the flaming penfold; and again the great voice cried,As the Goth-king's golden pillars grew red amidst the blaze:"Ye women of the Goth-folk, come forth upon your ways;And thou, Signy, O my sister, come forth from death and hell,That beneath the boughs of the Branstock once more we twain may dwell."Forth came the white-faced women and passed Sinfiotli's sword,Free by the glaive of Odin the trembling pale ones poured,But amid their hurrying terror came never Signy's feet;And the pearls of the throne of Siggeir shrunk in the fervent heat.Then the men of war surged outward to the twofold doors of bane,But there played the sword of Sigmund amidst the fiery laneBefore the gable door-way, and by the woman's doorSinfiotli sang to the sword-edge amid the bale-fire's roar,And back again to the burning the earls of the Goth-folk shrank:And the light low licked the tables, and the wine of Siggeir drank.Lo now to the woman's doorway, the steel-watched bower of flame,Clad in her queenly raiment King Volsung's daughter cameBefore Sinfiotli's sword-point; and she said: "O mightiest son,Best now is our departing in the day my grief hath won,And the many days of toiling, and the travail of my womb,And the hate, and the fire of longing: thou, son, and this day of the doomHave long been as one to my heart; and now shall I leave you both,And well ye may wot of the slumber my heart is nothing loth;And all the more, as, meseemeth, thy day shall not be longTo weary thee with labour and mingle wrong with wrong.Yea, and I wot that the daylight thine eyes had never seenSave for a great king's murder and the shame of a mighty queen.But let thy soul, I charge thee, o'er all these things prevailTo make thy short day glorious and leave a goodly tale."She kissed him and departed, and unto Sigmund wentAs now against the dawning grey grew the winter bent:As the night and the morning mingled he saw her face once more,And he deemed it fair and ruddy as in the days of yore;Yet fast the tears fell from her, and the sobs upheaved her breast:And she said: "My youth was happy; but this hour belike is bestOf all the days of my life-tide, that soon shall have an end.I have come to greet thee, Sigmund, then back again must I wend,For his bed the Goth-king dighteth: I have lain therein, time was,And loathed the sleep I won there: but lo, how all things pass,And hearts are changed and softened, for lovely now it seems.Yet fear not my forgetting: I shall see thee in my dreamsA mighty king of the world 'neath the boughs of the Branstock green,With thine earls and thy lords about thee as the Volsung fashion hath been.And there shall all ye remember how I loved the Volsung name,Nor spared to spend for its blooming my joy, and my life, and my fame.For hear thou: that Sinfiotli, who hath wrought out our desire,Who hath compassed about King Siggeir with this sea of a deadly fire,Who brake thy grave asunder—my child and thine he is,Begot in that house of the Dwarf-kind for no other end than this;The son of Volsung's daughter, the son of Volsung's son.Look, look! might another helper this deed with thee have done?"And indeed as the word she uttereth, high up the red flames flareTo the nether floor of the heavens: and yet men see them there,The golden roofs of Siggeir, the hall of the silver doorThat the Goths and the Gods had builded to last for evermore.She said: "Farewell, my brother, for the earls my candles light,And I must wend me bedward lest I lose the flower of night."And soft and sweet she kissed him, ere she turned about again,And a little while was Signy beheld of the eyes of men;And as she crossed the threshold day brightened at her back,Nor once did she turn her earthward from the reek and the whirling wrack,But fair in the fashion of Queens passed on to the heart of the hall.And then King Siggeir's roof-tree upheaved for its utmost fall,And its huge walls clashed together, and its mean and lowly thingsThe fire of death confounded with the tokens of the kings.A sign for many people on the land of the Goths it lay,A lamp of the earth none needed, for the bright sun brought the day.
So there are those kings abiding, and they think of nought but the dayWhen the time at last shall serve them, to wend on the perilous way.And so in the first of winter, when nights grow long and mirk,They fare unto Siggeir's dwelling and seek wherein to lurk.And by hap 'twas the tide of twilight, ere the watch of the night was setAnd the watch of the day was departed, as Sinfiotli minded yetSo now by a passage he wotted they gat them into the bowerWhere lay the biggest wine-tuns, and there they abode the hour:Anigh to the hall it was, but no man came thereto,But now and again the cup-lord when King Siggeir's wine he drew:Yea and so nigh to the feast-hall, that they saw the torches shineWhen the cup-lord was departed with King Siggeir's dear-bought wine,And they heard the glee of the people, and the horns and the beakers' din,When the feast was dight in the hall and the earls were merry therein.Calm was the face of Sigmund, and clear were his eyes and bright;But Sinfiotli gnawed on his shield-rim, and his face was haggard and white:For he deemed the time full long, ere the fallow blades should leapIn the hush of the midnight feast-hall o'er King Siggeir's golden sleep.
Now it fell that two little children, Queen Signy's youngest-born,Were about the hall that even, and amid the glee of the hornThey played with a golden toy, and trundled it here and there,And thus to that lurking-bower they drew exceeding near,When there fell a ring from their toy, and swiftly rolled awayAnd into the place of the wine-tuns, and by Sigmund's feet made stay;Then the little ones followed after, and came to the lurking-placeWhere lay those night-abiders, and met them face to face,And fled, ere they might hold them, aback to the thronging hall.
Then leapt those twain to their feet lest the sword and the murder fallOn their hearts in their narrow lair and they die without a stroke;But e'en as they met the torch-light and the din and tumult of folk,Lo there on the very threshold did Signy the Volsung stand,And one of her last-born children she had on either hand;For the children had cried: "We have seen them—those two among the wine,And their hats are wide and white, and their garments tinkle and shine."So while men ran to their weapons, those children Signy took,And went to meet her kinsmen: then once more did Sigmund lookOn the face of his father's daughter, and kind of heart he grew,As the clash of the coming battle anigh the doomed men drew:But wan and fell was Signy; and she cried:"The end is near!—And thou with the smile on thy face and the joyful eyes and clear!But with these thy two betrayers first stain the edge of fight,For why should the fruit of my body outlive my soul tonight?"
But he cried in the front of the spear-hedge; "Nay this shall be far from meTo slay thy children sackless, though my death belike they be.Now men will be dealing, sister, and old the night is grown,And fair in the house of my fathers the benches are bestrown."
So she stood aside and gazed: but Sinfiotli taketh them upAnd breaketh each tender body as a drunkard breaketh a cup;With a dreadful voice he crieth, and casteth them down the hall,And the Goth-folk sunder before them, and at Siggeir's feet they fall.
But the fallow blades leapt naked, and on the battle came,As the tide of the winter ocean sweeps up to the beaconing flame.But firm in the midst of onset Sigmund the Volsung stood,And stirred no more for the sword-strokes than the oldest oak of the woodShall shake to the herd-boys' whittles: white danced his war-flame's gleam,And oft to men's beholding his eyes of God would beamClear from the sword-blades' tangle, and often for a spaceAmazed the garth of murder stared deedless on his face;Nor back nor forward moved he: but fierce Sinfiotli wentWhere the spears were set the thickest, and sword with sword was blent;And great was the death before him, till he slipped in the blood and fell:Then the shield-garth compassed Sigmund, and short is the tale to tell;For they bore him down unwounded, and bonds about him cast:Nor sore hurt is Sinfiotli, but is hoppled strait and fast.
Then the Goth-folk went to slumber when the hall was washed from blood:But a long while wakened Siggeir, for fell and fierce was his mood,And all the days of his kingship seemed nothing worth as thenWhile fared the son of Volsung as well as the worst of men,While yet that son of Signy lay untormented there:Yea the past days of his kingship seemed blossomless and bareSince all their might had failed him to quench the Volsung kin.
So when the first grey dawning a new day did begin,King Siggeir bade his bondsmen to dight an earthen moundAnigh to the house of the Goth-kings amid the fruit-grown ground:And that house of death was twofold, for 'twas sundered by a stoneInto two woeful chambers: alone and not aloneThose vanquished thralls of battle therein should bide their hour,That each might hear the tidings of the other's baleful bower,Yet have no might to help him. So now the twain they broughtAnd weary-dull was Sinfiotli, with eyes that looked at nought.But Sigmund fresh and clear-eyed went to the deadly hall,And the song arose within him as he sat within its wall;Nor aught durst Siggeir mock him, as he had good will to do,But went his ways when the bondmen brought the roofing turfs thereto.
And that was at eve of the day; and lo now, Signy the whiteWan-faced and eager-eyed stole through the beginning of nightTo the place where the builders built, and the thralls with lingering handsHad roofed in the grave of Sigmund and hidden the glory of lands,But over the head of Sinfiotli for a space were the rafters bare.Gold then to the thralls she gave, and promised them days full fairIf they held their peace for ever of the deed that then she did:And nothing they gainsayed it; so she drew forth something hid,In wrappings of wheat-straw winded, and into Sinfiotli's placeShe cast it all down swiftly; then she covereth up her faceAnd beneath the winter starlight she wended swift away.But her gift do the thralls deem victual, and the thatch on the hall they lay,And depart, they too, to their slumber, now dight was the dwelling of death.
Then Sigmund hears Sinfiotli, how he cries through the stone and saith:"Best unto babe is mother, well sayeth the elder's saw;Here hath Signy sent me swine's-flesh in windings of wheaten straw."
And again he held him silent of bitter words or of sweet;And quoth Sigmund, "What hath betided? is an adder in the meat?"Then loud his fosterling laughed: "Yea, a worm of bitter tooth,The serpent of the Branstock, the sword of thy days of youth!I have felt the hilts aforetime; I have felt how the letters runOn each side of the trench of blood and the point of that glorious one.O mother, O mother of kings! we shall live and our days shall be sweet!I have loved thee well aforetime, I shall love thee more when we meet."
Then Sigmund heard the sword-point smite on the stone wall's side,And slowly mid the darkness therethrough he heard it grideAs against it bore Sinfiotli: but he cried out at the last:"It biteth, O my fosterer! It cleaves the earth-bone fast!Now learn we the craft of the masons that another day may comeWhen we build a house for King Siggeir, a strait unlovely home."
Then in the grave-mound's darkness did Sigmund the king upstand;And unto that saw of battle he set his naked hand;And hard the gift of Odin home to their breasts they drew;Sawed Sigmund, sawed Sinfiotli, till the stone was cleft atwo,And they met and kissed together: then they hewed and heaved full hardTill lo, through the bursten rafters the winter heavens bestarred!And they leap out merry-hearted; nor is there need to sayA many words between them of whither was the way.
For they took the night-watch sleeping, and slew them one and allAnd then on the winter fagots they made them haste to fall,They pile the oak-trees cloven, and when the oak-beams failThey bear the ash and the rowan, and build a mighty baleAbout the dwelling of Siggeir, and lay the torch therein.Then they drew their swords and watched it till the flames began to winHard on to the mid-hall's rafters, and those feasters of the folk,As the fire-flakes fell among them, to their last of days awoke.By the gable-door stood Sigmund, and fierce Sinfiotli stoodRed-lit by the door of the women in the lane of blazing wood:To death each doorway opened, and death was in the hall.
Then amid the gathered Goth-folk 'gan Siggeir the king to call:"Who lit the fire I burn in, and what shall buy me peace?Will ye take my heaped-up treasure, or ten years of my fields' increase,Or half of my father's kingdom? O toilers at the oar,O wasters of the sea-plain, now labour ye no more!But take the gifts I bid you, and lie upon the gold,And clothe your limbs in purple and the silken women hold!"
But a great voice cried o'er the fire: "Nay, no such men are we,No tuggers at the hawser, no wasters of the sea:We will have the gold and the purple when we list such things to winBut now we think on our fathers, and avenging of our kin.Not all King Siggeir's kingdom, and not all the world's increaseFor ever and for ever, shall buy thee life and peace.For now is the tree-bough blossomed that sprang from murder's seed;And the death-doomed and the buried are they that do the deed;Now when the dead shall ask thee by whom thy days were done,Thou shalt say by Sigmund the Volsung, and Sinfiotli, Signy's son."
Then stark fear fell on the earl-folk, and silent they abideAmid the flaming penfold; and again the great voice cried,As the Goth-king's golden pillars grew red amidst the blaze:"Ye women of the Goth-folk, come forth upon your ways;And thou, Signy, O my sister, come forth from death and hell,That beneath the boughs of the Branstock once more we twain may dwell."
Forth came the white-faced women and passed Sinfiotli's sword,Free by the glaive of Odin the trembling pale ones poured,But amid their hurrying terror came never Signy's feet;And the pearls of the throne of Siggeir shrunk in the fervent heat.
Then the men of war surged outward to the twofold doors of bane,But there played the sword of Sigmund amidst the fiery laneBefore the gable door-way, and by the woman's doorSinfiotli sang to the sword-edge amid the bale-fire's roar,And back again to the burning the earls of the Goth-folk shrank:And the light low licked the tables, and the wine of Siggeir drank.
Lo now to the woman's doorway, the steel-watched bower of flame,Clad in her queenly raiment King Volsung's daughter cameBefore Sinfiotli's sword-point; and she said: "O mightiest son,Best now is our departing in the day my grief hath won,And the many days of toiling, and the travail of my womb,And the hate, and the fire of longing: thou, son, and this day of the doomHave long been as one to my heart; and now shall I leave you both,And well ye may wot of the slumber my heart is nothing loth;And all the more, as, meseemeth, thy day shall not be longTo weary thee with labour and mingle wrong with wrong.Yea, and I wot that the daylight thine eyes had never seenSave for a great king's murder and the shame of a mighty queen.But let thy soul, I charge thee, o'er all these things prevailTo make thy short day glorious and leave a goodly tale."
She kissed him and departed, and unto Sigmund wentAs now against the dawning grey grew the winter bent:As the night and the morning mingled he saw her face once more,And he deemed it fair and ruddy as in the days of yore;Yet fast the tears fell from her, and the sobs upheaved her breast:And she said: "My youth was happy; but this hour belike is bestOf all the days of my life-tide, that soon shall have an end.I have come to greet thee, Sigmund, then back again must I wend,For his bed the Goth-king dighteth: I have lain therein, time was,And loathed the sleep I won there: but lo, how all things pass,And hearts are changed and softened, for lovely now it seems.Yet fear not my forgetting: I shall see thee in my dreamsA mighty king of the world 'neath the boughs of the Branstock green,With thine earls and thy lords about thee as the Volsung fashion hath been.And there shall all ye remember how I loved the Volsung name,Nor spared to spend for its blooming my joy, and my life, and my fame.For hear thou: that Sinfiotli, who hath wrought out our desire,Who hath compassed about King Siggeir with this sea of a deadly fire,Who brake thy grave asunder—my child and thine he is,Begot in that house of the Dwarf-kind for no other end than this;The son of Volsung's daughter, the son of Volsung's son.Look, look! might another helper this deed with thee have done?"
And indeed as the word she uttereth, high up the red flames flareTo the nether floor of the heavens: and yet men see them there,The golden roofs of Siggeir, the hall of the silver doorThat the Goths and the Gods had builded to last for evermore.
She said: "Farewell, my brother, for the earls my candles light,And I must wend me bedward lest I lose the flower of night."
And soft and sweet she kissed him, ere she turned about again,And a little while was Signy beheld of the eyes of men;And as she crossed the threshold day brightened at her back,Nor once did she turn her earthward from the reek and the whirling wrack,But fair in the fashion of Queens passed on to the heart of the hall.
And then King Siggeir's roof-tree upheaved for its utmost fall,And its huge walls clashed together, and its mean and lowly thingsThe fire of death confounded with the tokens of the kings.A sign for many people on the land of the Goths it lay,A lamp of the earth none needed, for the bright sun brought the day.
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 nowWith 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 lifedays and her fameThat the Volsung kin might blossom and bear the fruit of worthFor 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.And now for their fame's advancement, and the latter days to speed,He weddeth a wife of the King-folk; Borghild she had to name;And the woman was fair and lovely and bore him sons of fame;Men call them Hamond and Helgi, and when Helgi first saw light,There came the Norns to his cradle and gave him life full bright,And called him Sunlit Hill, Sharp Sword, and Land of Rings,And bade him be lovely and great, and a joy in the tale of kings.And he waxed up fair and mighty, and no worser than their word,And sweet are the tales of his life-days, and the wonders of his sword,And the Maid of the Shield that he wedded, and how he changed his life,And of marvels wrought in the gravemound where he rested from the strife.But the tale of Sinfiotli telleth, that wide in the world he went,And many a wall of ravens the edge of his warflame rent;And oft he drave the war-prey and wasted many a land:Amidst King Hunding's battle he strengthened Helgi's hand;And he went before the banners amidst the steel-grown wood,When the sons of Hunding gathered and Helgi's hope withstood:Nor less he mowed the war-swathe in Helgi's glorious dayWhen the kings of the hosts at the Wolf-crag set the battle in array.Then at home by his father's high-seat he wore the winter through;And the marvel of all men he was for the deeds whereof they knew,And the deeds whereof none wotted, and the deeds to follow after.And yet but a little while he loved the song and the laughter,And the wine that was drunk in peace, and the swordless lying down,And the deedless day's uprising and the ungirt golden gown.And he thought of the word of his mother, that his day should not be longTo weary his soul with labour or mingle wrong with wrong;And his heart was exceeding hungry o'er all men to prevail,And make his short day glorious and leave a goodly tale.So when green leaves were lengthening and the spring was come againHe set his ships in the sea-flood and sailed across the main;And the brother of Queen Borghild was his fellow in the war,A king of hosts hight Gudrod; and each to each they swore,And plighted troth for the helping, and the parting of the prey.Now a long way over the sea-flood they went ashore on a dayAnd fought with a mighty folk-king, and overcame at last:Then wide about his kingdom the net of steel they cast,And the prey was great and goodly that they drave unto the strand.But a greedy heart is Gudrod, and a king of griping hand,Though nought he blench from the battle; so he speaks on a morning fair,And saith:"Upon the foreshore the booty will we shareIf thou wilt help me, fellow, before we sail our ways."Sinfiotli laughed, and answered: "O'ershort methinks the daysThat two kings of war should chaffer like merchants of the men:I will come again in the even and look on thy dealings then,And take the share thou givest."Then he went his ways withal,And drank day-long in his warship as in his father's hall;And came again in the even: now hath Gudrod shared the spoil,And throughout that day of summer not light had been his toil:Forsooth his heap was the lesser; but Sinfiotli looked thereon,And saw that a goodly getting had Borghild's brother won.Clean-limbed and stark were the horses, and the neat were fat and sleek,And the men-thralls young and stalwart, and the women young and meek;Fair-gilt was the harness of battle, and the raiment fresh and bright,And the household stuff new-fashioned for lords' and earls' delight.On his own then looked Sinfiotli, and great it was forsooth,But half-foundered were the horses, and a sight for all men's ruthWere the thin-ribbed hungry cow-kind; and the thralls both carle and queanWere the wilful, the weak, and the witless, and the old and the ill-beseen;Spoilt was the harness and house-gear, and the raiment rags of cloth.Now Sinfiotli's men beheld it and grew exceeding wroth,But Sinfiotli laughed and answered: "The day's work hath been meet:Thou hast done well, war-brother, to sift the chaff from the wheatNought have kings' sons to meddle with the refuse of the earth,Nor shall warriors burden their long-ships with things of nothing worth."Then he cried across the sea-strand in a voice exceeding great:"Depart, ye thralls of the battle; ye have nought to do to wait!Old, young, and good, and evil, depart and share the spoil,That burden of the battle, that spring and seed of toil.—But thou king of the greedy heart, thou king of the thievish grip,What now wilt thou bear to the sea-strand and set within my shipTo buy thy life from the slaying? Unmeet for kings to hearOf a king the breaker of troth, of a king the stealer of gear."Then mad-wroth waxed King Gudrod, and he cried: "Stand up, my men!And slay this wood-abider lest he slay his brothers again!"But no sword leapt from its sheath, and his men shrank back in dread;Then Sinfiotli's brow grew smoother, and at last he spake and said:"Indeed thou art very brother of my father Sigmund's wife:Wilt thou do so much for thine honour, wilt thou do so much for thy life,As to bide my sword on the island in the pale of the hazel wands?For I know thee no battle-blencher, but a valiant man of thine hands."Now nought King Gudrod gainsayeth, and men dight the hazelled field,And there on the morrow morning they clash the sword and shield,And the fallow blades are leaping: short is the tale to tell,For with the third stroke stricken to field King Gudrod fell.So there in the holm they lay him; and plenteous store of goldSinfiotli lays beside him amid that hall of mould;"For he gripped," saith the son of Sigmund, "and gathered for such a day."Then Sinfiotli and his fellows o'er the sea-flood sail away,And come to the land of the Volsungs: but Borghild heareth the tale,And into the hall she cometh with eager face and paleAs the kings were feasting together, and glad was Sigmund grownOf the words of Sinfiotli's battle, and the tale of his great renown:And there sat the sons of Borghild, and they hearkened and were gladOf their brother born in the wild-wood, and the crown of fame he had.So she stood before King Sigmund, and spread her hands abroad:"I charge thee now, King Sigmund, as thou art the Volsungs' lord,To tell me of my brother, why cometh he not from the sea?"Quoth Sinfiotli: "Well thou wottest and the tale hath come to thee:The white swords met in the island; bright there did the war-shields shine,And there thy brother abideth, for his hand was worser than mine."But she heeded him never a whit, but cried on Sigmund and said:"I charge thee now, King Sigmund, as thou art the lord of my bed,To drive this wolf of the King-folk from out thy guarded land;Lest all we of thine house and kindred should fall beneath his hand."Then spake King Sigmund the Volsung: "When thou hast heard the tale,Thou shalt know that somewhat thy brother of his oath to my son did fail;Nor fell the man all sackless: nor yet need Sigmund's sonFor any slain in sword-field to any soul atone.Yet for the love I bear thee, and because thy love I know,And because the man was mighty, and far afield would go,I will lay down a mighty weregild, a heap of the ruddy gold."But no word answered Borghild, for her heart was grim and cold;And she went from the hall of the feasting, and lay in her bower a while;Nor speech she took, nor gave it, but brooded deadly guile.And now again on the morrow to Sigmund the king she went,And she saith that her wrath hath failed her, and that well is she contentTo take the king's atonement; and she kissed him soft and sweet,And she kissed Sinfiotli his son, and sat down in the golden seatAll merry and glad by seeming, and blithe to most and least.And again she biddeth King Sigmund that he hold a funeral feastFor her brother slain on the island; and nought he gainsayeth her will.And so on an eve of the autumn do men the beakers fill,And the earls are gathered together 'neath the boughs of the Branstock green;There gold-clad mid the feasting went Borghild, Sigmund's Queen,And she poured the wine for Sinfiotli, and smiled in his face and said:"Drink now of this cup from mine hand, and bury we hate that is dead."So he took the cup from her fingers, nor drank but pondered longO'er the gathering days of his labour, and the intermingled wrong.Now he sat by the side of his father; and Sigmund spake a word:"O son, why sittest thou silent mid the glee of earl and lord?""I look in the cup," quoth Sinfiotli, "and hate therein I see.""Well looked it is," said Sigmund; "give thou the cup to me,"And he drained it dry to the bottom; for ye mind how it was writThat this king might drink of venom, and have no hurt of it.But the song sprang up in the hall, and merry was Sigmund's heart,And he drank of the wine of King-folk and thrust all care apart.Then the second time came Borghild and stood before the twain,And she said: "O valiant step-son, how oft shall I say it in vain,That my hate for thee hath perished, and the love hath sprouted green?Wilt thou thrust my gift away, and shame the hand of a queen?"So he took the cup from her fingers, and pondered over it long,And thought on the labour that should be, and the wrong that amendeth wrong.Then spake Sigmund the King: "O son, what aileth thine heart,When the earls of men are merry, and thrust all care apart?"But he said: "I have looked in the cup, and I see the deadly snare.""Well seen it is," quoth Sigmund, "but thy burden I may bear."And he took the beaker and drained it, and the song rose up in the hall;And fair bethought King Sigmund his latter days befall.But again came Borghild the Queen and stood with the cup in her hand,And said: "They are idle liars, those singers of every landWho sing how thou fearest nothing; for thou losest valour and might,And art fain to live for ever."Then she stretched forth her fingers white,And he took the cup from her hand, nor drank, but pondered longOf the toil that begetteth toil, and the wrong that beareth wrong.But Sigmund turned him about, and he said: "What aileth thee, son?Shall our life-days never be merry, and our labour never be done?"But Sinfiotli said: "I have looked, and lo there is death in the cup."And the song, and the tinkling of harp-strings to the roof-tree winded up:And Sigmund was dreamy with wine and the wearing of many a year;And the noise and the glee of the people as the sound of the wild woods were,And the blossoming boughs of the Branstock were the wild trees waving about;So he said: "Well seen, my fosterling; let the lip then strain it out."Then Sinfiotli laughed and answered: "I drink unto Odin then,And the Dwellers up in God-home, the lords of the lives of men."He drank as he spake the word, and forthwith the venom ranIn a chill flood over his heart, and down fell the mighty manWith never an uttered death-word and never a death-changed look,And the floor of the hall of the Volsungs beneath his falling shook.Then up rose the elder of days with a great and bitter cryAnd lifted the head of the fallen, and none durst come anighTo hearken the words of his sorrow, if any words he said,But such as the Father of all men might speak over Baldur dead.And again, as before the death-stroke, waxed the hall of the Volsungs dim,And once more he seemed in the forest, where he spake with nought but him.Then he lifted him up from the hall-floor and bore him on his breast,And men who saw Sinfiotli deemed his heart had gotten rest,And his eyes were no more dreadful. Forth fared the Volsung childWith Signy's son through the doorway; and the wind was great and wild,And the moon rode high in the heavens, and whiles it shone out bright,And whiles the clouds drew over. So went he through the night,Until the dwellings of man-folk were a long while left behind.Then came he unto the thicket and the houses of the wind,And the feet of the hoary mountains, and the dwellings of the deer,And the heaths without a shepherd, and the houseless dales and drear.Then lo, a mighty water, a rushing flood and wide,And no ferry for the shipless; so he went along its side,As a man that seeketh somewhat: but it widened toward the sea,And the moon sank down in the west, and he went o'er a desert lea.But lo, in that dusk ere the dawning a glimmering over the flood,And the sound of the cleaving of waters, and Sigmund the Volsung stoodBy the edge of the swirling eddy, and a white-sailed boat he saw,And its keel ran light on the strand with the last of the dying flaw.But therein was a man most mighty, grey-clad like the mountain-cloud,One-eyed and seeming ancient, and he spake and hailed him aloud:"Now whither away, King Sigmund, for thou farest far to-night?"Spake the King: "I would cross this water, for my life hath lost its light,And mayhap there be deeds for a king to be found on the further shore.""My senders," quoth the shipman, "bade me waft a great king o'er,So set thy burden a shipboard, for the night's face looks toward day."So betwixt the earth and the water his son did Sigmund lay;But lo, when he fain would follow, there was neither ship nor man,Nor aught but his empty bosom beside that water wan,That whitened by little and little as the night's face looked to the day.So he stood a long while gazing and then turned and gat him away;And ere the sun of the noon-tide across the meadows shoneSigmund the King of the Volsungs was set in his father's throne,And he hearkened and doomed and portioned, and did all the deeds of a king.So the autumn waned and perished, and the winter brought the spring.
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 nowWith 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 lifedays and her fameThat the Volsung kin might blossom and bear the fruit of worthFor 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.
And now for their fame's advancement, and the latter days to speed,He weddeth a wife of the King-folk; Borghild she had to name;And the woman was fair and lovely and bore him sons of fame;Men call them Hamond and Helgi, and when Helgi first saw light,There came the Norns to his cradle and gave him life full bright,And called him Sunlit Hill, Sharp Sword, and Land of Rings,And bade him be lovely and great, and a joy in the tale of kings.And he waxed up fair and mighty, and no worser than their word,And sweet are the tales of his life-days, and the wonders of his sword,And the Maid of the Shield that he wedded, and how he changed his life,And of marvels wrought in the gravemound where he rested from the strife.
But the tale of Sinfiotli telleth, that wide in the world he went,And many a wall of ravens the edge of his warflame rent;And oft he drave the war-prey and wasted many a land:Amidst King Hunding's battle he strengthened Helgi's hand;And he went before the banners amidst the steel-grown wood,When the sons of Hunding gathered and Helgi's hope withstood:Nor less he mowed the war-swathe in Helgi's glorious dayWhen the kings of the hosts at the Wolf-crag set the battle in array.Then at home by his father's high-seat he wore the winter through;And the marvel of all men he was for the deeds whereof they knew,And the deeds whereof none wotted, and the deeds to follow after.
And yet but a little while he loved the song and the laughter,And the wine that was drunk in peace, and the swordless lying down,And the deedless day's uprising and the ungirt golden gown.And he thought of the word of his mother, that his day should not be longTo weary his soul with labour or mingle wrong with wrong;And his heart was exceeding hungry o'er all men to prevail,And make his short day glorious and leave a goodly tale.
So when green leaves were lengthening and the spring was come againHe set his ships in the sea-flood and sailed across the main;And the brother of Queen Borghild was his fellow in the war,A king of hosts hight Gudrod; and each to each they swore,And plighted troth for the helping, and the parting of the prey.
Now a long way over the sea-flood they went ashore on a dayAnd fought with a mighty folk-king, and overcame at last:Then wide about his kingdom the net of steel they cast,And the prey was great and goodly that they drave unto the strand.But a greedy heart is Gudrod, and a king of griping hand,Though nought he blench from the battle; so he speaks on a morning fair,And saith:"Upon the foreshore the booty will we shareIf thou wilt help me, fellow, before we sail our ways."
Sinfiotli laughed, and answered: "O'ershort methinks the daysThat two kings of war should chaffer like merchants of the men:I will come again in the even and look on thy dealings then,And take the share thou givest."Then he went his ways withal,And drank day-long in his warship as in his father's hall;And came again in the even: now hath Gudrod shared the spoil,And throughout that day of summer not light had been his toil:Forsooth his heap was the lesser; but Sinfiotli looked thereon,And saw that a goodly getting had Borghild's brother won.Clean-limbed and stark were the horses, and the neat were fat and sleek,And the men-thralls young and stalwart, and the women young and meek;Fair-gilt was the harness of battle, and the raiment fresh and bright,And the household stuff new-fashioned for lords' and earls' delight.On his own then looked Sinfiotli, and great it was forsooth,But half-foundered were the horses, and a sight for all men's ruthWere the thin-ribbed hungry cow-kind; and the thralls both carle and queanWere the wilful, the weak, and the witless, and the old and the ill-beseen;Spoilt was the harness and house-gear, and the raiment rags of cloth.
Now Sinfiotli's men beheld it and grew exceeding wroth,But Sinfiotli laughed and answered: "The day's work hath been meet:Thou hast done well, war-brother, to sift the chaff from the wheatNought have kings' sons to meddle with the refuse of the earth,Nor shall warriors burden their long-ships with things of nothing worth."
Then he cried across the sea-strand in a voice exceeding great:"Depart, ye thralls of the battle; ye have nought to do to wait!Old, young, and good, and evil, depart and share the spoil,That burden of the battle, that spring and seed of toil.—But thou king of the greedy heart, thou king of the thievish grip,What now wilt thou bear to the sea-strand and set within my shipTo buy thy life from the slaying? Unmeet for kings to hearOf a king the breaker of troth, of a king the stealer of gear."
Then mad-wroth waxed King Gudrod, and he cried: "Stand up, my men!And slay this wood-abider lest he slay his brothers again!"
But no sword leapt from its sheath, and his men shrank back in dread;Then Sinfiotli's brow grew smoother, and at last he spake and said:"Indeed thou art very brother of my father Sigmund's wife:Wilt thou do so much for thine honour, wilt thou do so much for thy life,As to bide my sword on the island in the pale of the hazel wands?For I know thee no battle-blencher, but a valiant man of thine hands."
Now nought King Gudrod gainsayeth, and men dight the hazelled field,And there on the morrow morning they clash the sword and shield,And the fallow blades are leaping: short is the tale to tell,For with the third stroke stricken to field King Gudrod fell.So there in the holm they lay him; and plenteous store of goldSinfiotli lays beside him amid that hall of mould;"For he gripped," saith the son of Sigmund, "and gathered for such a day."
Then Sinfiotli and his fellows o'er the sea-flood sail away,And come to the land of the Volsungs: but Borghild heareth the tale,And into the hall she cometh with eager face and paleAs the kings were feasting together, and glad was Sigmund grownOf the words of Sinfiotli's battle, and the tale of his great renown:And there sat the sons of Borghild, and they hearkened and were gladOf their brother born in the wild-wood, and the crown of fame he had.
So she stood before King Sigmund, and spread her hands abroad:"I charge thee now, King Sigmund, as thou art the Volsungs' lord,To tell me of my brother, why cometh he not from the sea?"
Quoth Sinfiotli: "Well thou wottest and the tale hath come to thee:The white swords met in the island; bright there did the war-shields shine,And there thy brother abideth, for his hand was worser than mine."
But she heeded him never a whit, but cried on Sigmund and said:"I charge thee now, King Sigmund, as thou art the lord of my bed,To drive this wolf of the King-folk from out thy guarded land;Lest all we of thine house and kindred should fall beneath his hand."
Then spake King Sigmund the Volsung: "When thou hast heard the tale,Thou shalt know that somewhat thy brother of his oath to my son did fail;Nor fell the man all sackless: nor yet need Sigmund's sonFor any slain in sword-field to any soul atone.Yet for the love I bear thee, and because thy love I know,And because the man was mighty, and far afield would go,I will lay down a mighty weregild, a heap of the ruddy gold."
But no word answered Borghild, for her heart was grim and cold;And she went from the hall of the feasting, and lay in her bower a while;Nor speech she took, nor gave it, but brooded deadly guile.And now again on the morrow to Sigmund the king she went,And she saith that her wrath hath failed her, and that well is she contentTo take the king's atonement; and she kissed him soft and sweet,And she kissed Sinfiotli his son, and sat down in the golden seatAll merry and glad by seeming, and blithe to most and least.And again she biddeth King Sigmund that he hold a funeral feastFor her brother slain on the island; and nought he gainsayeth her will.
And so on an eve of the autumn do men the beakers fill,And the earls are gathered together 'neath the boughs of the Branstock green;There gold-clad mid the feasting went Borghild, Sigmund's Queen,And she poured the wine for Sinfiotli, and smiled in his face and said:"Drink now of this cup from mine hand, and bury we hate that is dead."
So he took the cup from her fingers, nor drank but pondered longO'er the gathering days of his labour, and the intermingled wrong.
Now he sat by the side of his father; and Sigmund spake a word:"O son, why sittest thou silent mid the glee of earl and lord?"
"I look in the cup," quoth Sinfiotli, "and hate therein I see."
"Well looked it is," said Sigmund; "give thou the cup to me,"And he drained it dry to the bottom; for ye mind how it was writThat this king might drink of venom, and have no hurt of it.But the song sprang up in the hall, and merry was Sigmund's heart,And he drank of the wine of King-folk and thrust all care apart.
Then the second time came Borghild and stood before the twain,And she said: "O valiant step-son, how oft shall I say it in vain,That my hate for thee hath perished, and the love hath sprouted green?Wilt thou thrust my gift away, and shame the hand of a queen?"
So he took the cup from her fingers, and pondered over it long,And thought on the labour that should be, and the wrong that amendeth wrong.
Then spake Sigmund the King: "O son, what aileth thine heart,When the earls of men are merry, and thrust all care apart?"
But he said: "I have looked in the cup, and I see the deadly snare."
"Well seen it is," quoth Sigmund, "but thy burden I may bear."And he took the beaker and drained it, and the song rose up in the hall;And fair bethought King Sigmund his latter days befall.
But again came Borghild the Queen and stood with the cup in her hand,And said: "They are idle liars, those singers of every landWho sing how thou fearest nothing; for thou losest valour and might,And art fain to live for ever."Then she stretched forth her fingers white,And he took the cup from her hand, nor drank, but pondered longOf the toil that begetteth toil, and the wrong that beareth wrong.
But Sigmund turned him about, and he said: "What aileth thee, son?Shall our life-days never be merry, and our labour never be done?"
But Sinfiotli said: "I have looked, and lo there is death in the cup."
And the song, and the tinkling of harp-strings to the roof-tree winded up:And Sigmund was dreamy with wine and the wearing of many a year;And the noise and the glee of the people as the sound of the wild woods were,And the blossoming boughs of the Branstock were the wild trees waving about;So he said: "Well seen, my fosterling; let the lip then strain it out."Then Sinfiotli laughed and answered: "I drink unto Odin then,And the Dwellers up in God-home, the lords of the lives of men."
He drank as he spake the word, and forthwith the venom ranIn a chill flood over his heart, and down fell the mighty manWith never an uttered death-word and never a death-changed look,And the floor of the hall of the Volsungs beneath his falling shook.
Then up rose the elder of days with a great and bitter cryAnd lifted the head of the fallen, and none durst come anighTo hearken the words of his sorrow, if any words he said,But such as the Father of all men might speak over Baldur dead.And again, as before the death-stroke, waxed the hall of the Volsungs dim,And once more he seemed in the forest, where he spake with nought but him.
Then he lifted him up from the hall-floor and bore him on his breast,And men who saw Sinfiotli deemed his heart had gotten rest,And his eyes were no more dreadful. Forth fared the Volsung childWith Signy's son through the doorway; and the wind was great and wild,And the moon rode high in the heavens, and whiles it shone out bright,And whiles the clouds drew over. So went he through the night,Until the dwellings of man-folk were a long while left behind.Then came he unto the thicket and the houses of the wind,And the feet of the hoary mountains, and the dwellings of the deer,And the heaths without a shepherd, and the houseless dales and drear.Then lo, a mighty water, a rushing flood and wide,And no ferry for the shipless; so he went along its side,As a man that seeketh somewhat: but it widened toward the sea,And the moon sank down in the west, and he went o'er a desert lea.
But lo, in that dusk ere the dawning a glimmering over the flood,And the sound of the cleaving of waters, and Sigmund the Volsung stoodBy the edge of the swirling eddy, and a white-sailed boat he saw,And its keel ran light on the strand with the last of the dying flaw.But therein was a man most mighty, grey-clad like the mountain-cloud,One-eyed and seeming ancient, and he spake and hailed him aloud:
"Now whither away, King Sigmund, for thou farest far to-night?"
Spake the King: "I would cross this water, for my life hath lost its light,And mayhap there be deeds for a king to be found on the further shore."
"My senders," quoth the shipman, "bade me waft a great king o'er,So set thy burden a shipboard, for the night's face looks toward day."
So betwixt the earth and the water his son did Sigmund lay;But lo, when he fain would follow, there was neither ship nor man,Nor aught but his empty bosom beside that water wan,That whitened by little and little as the night's face looked to the day.So he stood a long while gazing and then turned and gat him away;And ere the sun of the noon-tide across the meadows shoneSigmund the King of the Volsungs was set in his father's throne,And he hearkened and doomed and portioned, and did all the deeds of a king.So the autumn waned and perished, and the winter brought the spring.
Now is Queen Borghild driven from the Volsung's bed and board,And unwedded sitteth Sigmund an exceeding mighty lord,And fareth oft to the war-field, and addeth fame to fame:And where'er are the great ones told of his sons shall the people name;But short was their day of harvest and their reaping of renown,And while men stood by to marvel they gained their latest crown.So Sigmund alone abideth of all the Volsung seed,And the folk that the Gods had fashioned lest the earth should lack a deedAnd he said: "The tree was stalwart, but its boughs are old and worn.Where now are the children departed, that amidst my life were born?I know not the men about me, and they know not of my ways:I am nought but a picture of battle, and a song for the people to praise.I must strive with the deeds of my kingship, and yet when mine hour is comeIt shall meet me as glad as the goodman when he bringeth the last load home."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 enowTo 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 wordThat 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,And lie in the bed of the Volsungs, and be his wife alone.And he saith that he thinketh surely she shall bear the kings of the earth,And maybe the best and the greatest of all who are deemed of worth.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 beFor 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 goldThe deeds of the world that should be, and the deeds that were of old.And he stood before her and said:"I have spoken a word, time was,That thy will should rule thy wedding; and now hath it come to passThat again two kings of the people will woo thy body to bed."So she rose to her feet and hearkened: "And which be they?" she said.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 lifeTo dwell in the house of his fathers amidst all peace and strife,And to bear the sons of his body: and indeed full well I knowThat fair from the loins of Sigmund shall such a stem outgrowThat all folk of the earth shall be praising the womb where once he layAnd the paps that his lips have cherished, and shall bless my happy day."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 seaAll 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 warTo 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 hostsWho 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 meThat 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 kingsAre not cast away, nor drifted like the down before the wind;And surely I know, who say it, that never would Hiordis' mindHave been turned to wed King Lyngi or aught but the Volsung seedCome, go we forth to the battle, that shall be the latest deedOf 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 arrayWhen 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 nameTo 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 ranOn 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 abackEre 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 moreRang 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 placeDrave 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 hayBefore the brown scythes' sweeping, and there the Isle-king fellIn the fore-front of his battle, wherein he wrought right well,And soon they were nought but foemen who stand upon their feetOn 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 lordOn 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 seemsSince 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 homeTo my kin that are gone before me. Lo, yonder where I stoodThe 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 wellThat 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 sonTo remember what I have forgotten and to do what I left undone.Under thy girdle he lieth, and how shall I say unto thee,Unto thee, the wise of women, to cherish him heedfully.Now, wife, put by thy sorrow for the little day we have had;For in sooth I deem thou weepest: The days have been fair and glad:And our valour and wisdom have met, and thou knowest they shall not die:Sweet and good were the days, nor yet to the Fates did we cryFor a little longer yet, and a little longer to live:But we took, we twain in our meeting, all gifts that they had to give:Our wisdom and valour have kissed, and thine eyes shall see the fruit,And the joy for his days that shall be hath pierced mine heart to the root.Grieve not for me; for thou weepest that thou canst not see my faceHow its beauty is not departed, nor the hope of mine eyes grown base.Indeed I am waxen weary; but who heedeth wearinessThat hath been day-long on the mountain in the winter weather's stress,And now stands in the lighted doorway and seeth the king draw nigh,And heareth men dighting the banquet, and the bed wherein he shall lie?"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 headTill the low beams bathed his eyen, and there lay Sigmund dead.And the sun rose up on the earth; but where was the Volsung kinAnd the folk that the Gods had begotten the praise of all people to win?
Now is Queen Borghild driven from the Volsung's bed and board,And unwedded sitteth Sigmund an exceeding mighty lord,And fareth oft to the war-field, and addeth fame to fame:And where'er are the great ones told of his sons shall the people name;But short was their day of harvest and their reaping of renown,And while men stood by to marvel they gained their latest crown.So Sigmund alone abideth of all the Volsung seed,And the folk that the Gods had fashioned lest the earth should lack a deedAnd he said: "The tree was stalwart, but its boughs are old and worn.Where now are the children departed, that amidst my life were born?I know not the men about me, and they know not of my ways:I am nought but a picture of battle, and a song for the people to praise.I must strive with the deeds of my kingship, and yet when mine hour is comeIt shall meet me as glad as the goodman when he bringeth the last load home."
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 enowTo 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 wordThat 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,And lie in the bed of the Volsungs, and be his wife alone.And he saith that he thinketh surely she shall bear the kings of the earth,And maybe the best and the greatest of all who are deemed of worth.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 beFor 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 goldThe deeds of the world that should be, and the deeds that were of old.And he stood before her and said:"I have spoken a word, time was,That thy will should rule thy wedding; and now hath it come to passThat again two kings of the people will woo thy body to bed."So she rose to her feet and hearkened: "And which be they?" she said.
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 lifeTo dwell in the house of his fathers amidst all peace and strife,And to bear the sons of his body: and indeed full well I knowThat fair from the loins of Sigmund shall such a stem outgrowThat all folk of the earth shall be praising the womb where once he layAnd the paps that his lips have cherished, and shall bless my happy day."
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 seaAll 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 warTo 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 hostsWho 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 meThat 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 kingsAre not cast away, nor drifted like the down before the wind;And surely I know, who say it, that never would Hiordis' mindHave been turned to wed King Lyngi or aught but the Volsung seedCome, go we forth to the battle, that shall be the latest deedOf 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 arrayWhen 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 nameTo 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 ranOn 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 abackEre 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 moreRang 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 placeDrave 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 hayBefore the brown scythes' sweeping, and there the Isle-king fellIn the fore-front of his battle, wherein he wrought right well,And soon they were nought but foemen who stand upon their feetOn 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 lordOn 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 seemsSince 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 homeTo my kin that are gone before me. Lo, yonder where I stoodThe 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 wellThat 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 sonTo remember what I have forgotten and to do what I left undone.Under thy girdle he lieth, and how shall I say unto thee,Unto thee, the wise of women, to cherish him heedfully.Now, wife, put by thy sorrow for the little day we have had;For in sooth I deem thou weepest: The days have been fair and glad:And our valour and wisdom have met, and thou knowest they shall not die:Sweet and good were the days, nor yet to the Fates did we cryFor a little longer yet, and a little longer to live:But we took, we twain in our meeting, all gifts that they had to give:Our wisdom and valour have kissed, and thine eyes shall see the fruit,And the joy for his days that shall be hath pierced mine heart to the root.Grieve not for me; for thou weepest that thou canst not see my faceHow its beauty is not departed, nor the hope of mine eyes grown base.Indeed I am waxen weary; but who heedeth wearinessThat hath been day-long on the mountain in the winter weather's stress,And now stands in the lighted doorway and seeth the king draw nigh,And heareth men dighting the banquet, and the bed wherein he shall lie?"
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 headTill the low beams bathed his eyen, and there lay Sigmund dead.And the sun rose up on the earth; but where was the Volsung kinAnd the folk that the Gods had begotten the praise of all people to win?