Part 10 (1/2)

He said: ”We shall drive the horses adown to the water-side, That cometh forth from the mountains, and note what next shall betide.”

Then the twain sped on together, and they drave the horses on Till they came to a rus.h.i.+ng river, a water wide and wan; And the white mews hovered o'er it; but none might hear their cry For the rush and the rattle of waters, as the downlong flood swept by.

So the whole herd took the river and strove the stream to stem, And many a brave steed was there; but the flood o'ermastered them: And some, it swept them down-ward, and some won back to bank, Some, caught by the net of the eddies, in the swirling hubbub sank; But one of all swam over, and they saw his mane of grey Toss over the flowery meadows, a bright thing far away: Wide then he wheeled about them, then took the stream again And with the waves' white horses mingled his cloudy mane.

Then spake the elder of days: ”Hearken now, Sigurd, and hear; Time was when I gave thy father a gift thou shalt yet deem dear, And this horse is a gift of my giving:--heed nought where thou mayst ride: For I have seen thy fathers in a s.h.i.+ning house abide, And on earth they thought of its threshold, and the gifts I had to give; Nor prayed for a little longer, and a little longer to live.”

Then forth he strode to the mountains, and fain was Sigurd now To ask him many a matter: but dim did his bright shape grow, As a man from the litten doorway fades into the dusk of night; And the sun in the high-noon shone, and the world was exceeding bright.

So Sigurd turned to the river and stood by the wave-wet strand, And the grey horse swims to his feet and lightly leaps aland, And the youngling looks upon him, and deems none beside him good.

And indeed, as tells the story, he was come of Sleipnir's blood, The tireless horse of Odin: cloud-grey he was of hue, And it seemed as Sigurd backed him that Sigmund's son he knew, So glad he went beneath him. Then the youngling's song arose As he brushed through the noon-tide blossoms of Gripir's mighty close, Then he singeth the song of Greyfell, the horse that Odin gave, Who swam through the sweeping river, and back through the toppling wave.

_Regin telleth Sigurd of his kindred, and of the Gold that was accursed from ancient days._

Now yet the days pa.s.s over, and more than words may tell Grows Sigurd strong and lovely, and all children love him well.

But oft he looks on the mountains and many a time is fain To know of what lies beyond them, and learn of the wide world's gain.

And he saith: ”I dwell in a land that is ruled by none of my blood; And my mother's sons are waxing, and fair kings shall they be and good; And their servant or their betrayer--not one of these will I be.

Yet needs must I wait for a little till Odin calls for me.”

Now again it happed on a day that he sat in Regin's hall And hearkened many tidings of what had chanced to fall, And of kings that sought their kingdoms o'er many a waste and wild, And at last saith the crafty master: ”Thou art King Sigmund's child: Wilt thou wait till these kings of the carles shall die in a little land, Or wilt thou serve their sons and carry the cup to their hand; Or abide in vain for the day that never shall come about, When their banners shall dance in the wind and shake to the war-G.o.ds'

shout?”

Then Sigurd answered and said: ”Nought such do I look to be.

But thou, a deedless man, too much thou eggest me: And these folk are good and trusty, and the land is lovely and sweet, And in rest and in peace it lieth as the floor of Odin's feet: Yet I know that the world is wide, and filled with deeds unwrought; And for e'en such work was I fas.h.i.+oned, lest the songcraft come to nought, When the harps of G.o.d-home tinkle, and the G.o.ds are at stretch to hearken: Lest the hosts of the G.o.ds be scanty when their day hath begun to darken, When the bonds of the Wolf wax thin, and Loki fretteth his chain.

And sure for the house of my fathers full oft my heart is fain, And meseemeth I hear them talking of the day when I shall come, And of all the burden of deeds, that my hand shall bear them home.

And so when the deed is ready, nowise the man shall lack: But the wary foot is the surest, and the hasty oft turns back.”

Then answered Regin the guileful: ”The deed is ready to hand, Yet holding my peace is the best, for well thou lovest the land; And thou lovest thy life moreover, and the peace of thy youthful days, And why should the full-fed feaster his hand to the rye-bread raise?

Yet they say that Sigmund begat thee and he looked to fas.h.i.+on a man.

Fear nought; he lieth quiet in his mound by the sea-waves wan.”

So shone the eyes of Sigurd, that the s.h.i.+eld against him hung Cast back their light as the sunbeams; but his voice to the roof-tree rung: ”Tell me, thou Master of Masters, what deed is the deed I shall do?

Nor mock thou the son of Sigmund lest the day of his birth thou rue.”

Then answered the Master of Sleight: ”The deed is the righting of wrong, And the quelling a bale and a sorrow that the world hath endured o'erlong, And the winning a treasure untold, that shall make thee more than the kings; Thereof is the Helm of Aweing, the wonder of earthly things, And thereof is its very fellow, the War-coat all of gold, That has not its like in the heavens, nor has earth of its fellow told.”

Then answered Sigurd the Volsung: ”How long hereof hast thou known?

And what unto thee is this treasure, that thou seemest to give as thine own?”

”Alas!” quoth the smithying master, ”it is mine, yet none of mine, Since my heart herein avails not, and my hand is frail and fine-- It is long since I first came hither to seek a man for my need; For I saw by a glimmering light that hence would spring the deed, And many a deed of the world: but the generations pa.s.sed, And the first of the days was as near to the end that I sought as the last; Till I looked on thine eyes in the cradle: and now I deem through thee, That the end of my days of waiting, and the end of my woes shall be.”

Then Sigurd awhile was silent; but at last he answered and said: ”Thou shalt have thy will and the treasure, and shalt take the curse on thine head If a curse the gold enwrappeth: but the deed will I surely do, For today the dreams of my childhood hath bloomed in my heart anew: And I long to look on the world and the glory of the earth And to deal in the dealings of men, and garner the harvest of worth.

But tell me, thou Master of Masters, where lieth this measureless wealth; Is it guarded by swords of the earl-folk, or kept by cunning and stealth?

Is it over the main sea's darkness, or beyond the mountain wall?

Or e'en in these peaceful acres anigh to the hands of all?”

Then Regin answered sweetly: ”Hereof must a tale be told: Bide sitting, thou son of Sigmund, on the heap of unwrought gold, And hearken of wondrous matters, and of things unheard, unsaid, And deeds of my beholding ere the first of Kings was made.

”And first ye shall know of a sooth, that I never was born of the race Which the masters of G.o.d-home have made to cover the fair earth's face; But I come of the Dwarfs departed; and fair was the earth whileome Ere the short-lived thralls of the G.o.ds amidst its dales were come:-- And how were we worse than the G.o.ds, though maybe we lived not as long?

Yet no weight of memory maimed us; nor aught we knew of wrong.

What felt our souls of shaming, what knew our hearts of love?

We did and undid at pleasure, and repented nought thereof.