LITMIR.BIZ

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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 knew

And 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 rest As alone in the chamber she wakened and Sigurd cherished her breast.

      But men feast in the merry noontide, and glad is the April green

       That a Volsung looks on the sunlight and the night and the darkness have been.

       Earls think of marvellous stories, and along the golden strings

       Flit 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 was

       That he changed his life in battle, and brought the tale to pass:

       Then goeth the word of the Giants, and the world seems waxen old

       For the dimness of King Rerir and the tale of his warfare told:

       Yet unhushed are the singers' voices, nor yet the harp-strings cease

       While 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.

      Sigurd getteth to him the horse that is called Greyfell.

      Now waxeth the son of Sigmund in might and goodliness,

       And soft the days win over, and all men his beauty bless.

       But amidst the summer season was the Isle-queen Hiordis wed

       To King Elf the son of the Helper, and fair their life-days sped.

       Peace lay on the land for ever, and the fields gave good increase,

       And there was Sigurd waxing mid the plenty and the peace.

      Now hath the child grown greater, and is keen and eager of wit

       And full of understanding, and oft hath he joy to sit

       Amid talk of weighty matters when the wise men meet for speech;

       And joyous he is moreover and blithe and kind with each.

       But Regin the wise craftsmaster heedeth the youngling well,

       And before the Kings he cometh, and saith such words to tell.

      "I have fostered thy youth, King Elf, and thine O Helper of men,

       And ye wot that such a master no king shall see again;

       And now would I foster Sigurd; for, though he be none of thy blood,

       Mine heart of his days that shall be speaketh abundant good."

      Then spake the Helper of men-folk: "Yea, do herein thy will:

       For thou art the Master of Masters, and hast learned me all my skill:

       But think how bright is this youngling, and thy guile from him withhold;

       For this craft of thine hath shown me that thy heart is grim and cold,

       Though three men's lives thrice over thy wisdom might not learn;

       And I love this son of Sigmund, and mine heart to him doth yearn."

      Then Regin laughed, and answered: "I doled out cunning to thee;

       But nought with him will I measure: yet no cold-heart shall he be,

       Nor grim, nor evil-natured: for whate'er my will might frame,

       Gone forth is the word of the Norns, that abideth ever the same.

       And now, despite my cunning, how deem ye I shall die?"

      And they said he would live as he listed, and at last in peace should lie

       When he listed to live no longer; so mighty and wise he was.

      But again he laughed and answered: "One day it shall come to pass,

       That a beardless youth shall slay me: I know the fateful doom;

       But nought may I withstand it, as it heaves up dim through the gloom."

      So is Sigurd now with Regin, and he learns him many things;

       Yea, all save the craft of battle, that men learned the sons of kings:

       The smithying sword and war-coat; the carving runes aright;

       The tongues of many countries, and soft speech for men's delight;

       The dealing with the harp-strings, and the winding ways of song.

       So wise of heart waxed Sigurd, and of body wondrous strong:

       And he chased the deer of the forest, and many a wood-wolf slew,

       And many a bull of the mountains: and the desert dales he knew,

       And the heaths that the wind sweeps over; and seaward would he fare,

       Far out from the outer skerries, and alone the sea-wights dare.

      On a day he sat with Regin amidst the unfashioned gold,

       And the silver grey from the furnace; and Regin spake and told

       Sweet 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 ride

       As 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 mood

       That 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?

      

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