LITMIR.BIZ

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Yet wend we ashore to behold it and to wot of the deeds late done."

      So they turned their faces to Sigmund, and waded the swathes of the sword.

       "O, look ye long," said the Sea-king, "for here lieth a mighty lord:

       And all these are the deeds of his war-flame, yet hardy hearts, be sure,

       That they once durst look in his face or the wrath of his eyen endure;

       Though his lips be glad and smiling as a God that dreameth of mirth.

       Would God I were one of his kindred, for none such are left upon earth.

       Now fare we into the thicket, for thereto is the woman fled,

       And belike she shall tell us the story of this field of the mighty dead."

      So they wend and find the women, and bespeak them kind and fair:

       Then spake the gold-crowned handmaid: "Of the Isle-king's house we were,

       And I am the Queen called Hiordis; and the man that lies on the field

       Was mine own lord Sigmund the Volsung, the mightiest under shield."

      Then all amazed were the sea-folk when they hearkened to that word,

       And great and heavy tidings they deem their ears have heard:

       But again spake out the Sea-king: "And this blue-clad one beside,

       So pale, and as tall as a Goddess, and white and lovely eyed?"

      "In sooth and in troth," said the woman, "my serving-maid is this;

       She hath wept long over the battle, and sore afraid she is."

      Now the king looks hard upon her, but he saith no word thereto,

       And down again to the death-field with the women-folk they go.

       There they set their hands to the labour, and amidst the deadly mead

       They raise a mound for Sigmund, a mighty house indeed;

       And therein they set that folk-king, and goodly was his throne,

       And dight with gold and scarlet: and the walls of the house were done

       With the cloven shields of the foemen, and banners borne to field;

       But none might find his war-helm or the splinters of his shield,

       And clenched and fast was his right hand, but no sword therein he had:

       For Hiordis spake to the shipmen:

       "Our lord and master bade

       That the shards of his glaive of battle should go with our lady the Queen:

       And by them that lie a-dying a many things are seen."

      So there lies Sigmund the Volsung, and far away, forlorn

       Are 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 floor

       Worn 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 told

       A 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 wrought

       Who laboured all his life-days, and had rest but little or nought,

       Who died in the broken battle; who lies with swordless hand

       In the realm that the foe hath conquered on the edge of a stranger-land.

How Queen Hiordis is known; and how she abideth in the house of Elf the son of the Helper.

      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 foe

       And our lady and Queen beseecheth that unto thine house we wend

       And 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 night

       Till they come to a land of the people, and a goodly land it is

       Where folk may dwell unharried and win abundant bliss,

       The land of King Elf and the Helper; and there he bids them abide

       In 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 wot

       Why 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 sun

       When yet the world is darkling?"

       She said: "In the days of my youth

       I 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 there

      

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