Part 12 (1/2)
Lo, I am a King for ever, and alone on the Gold shall I dwell And do no deed to repent of and leave no tale to tell.'
”More awful grew his visage as he spake the word of dread, And no more durst I behold him, but with heart a-cold I fled; I fled from the glorious house my hands had made so fair, As poor as the new-born baby with nought of raiment or gear: I fled from the heaps of gold, and my goods were the eager will, And the heart that remembereth all, and the hand that may never be still.
”Then unto this land I came, and that was long ago As men-folk count the years; and I taught them to reap and to sow, And a famous man I became: but that generation died, And they said that Frey had taught them, and a G.o.d my name did hide.
Then I taught them the craft of metals, and the sailing of the sea, And the taming of the horse-kind, and the yoke-beasts' husbandry, And the building up of houses; and that race of men went by, And they said that Thor had taught them; and a smithying-carle was I.
Then I gave their maidens the needle and I bade them hold the rock, And the shuttle-race gaped for them as they sat at the weaving-stock.
But by then these were waxen crones to sit dim-eyed by the door, It was Freyia had come among them to teach the weaving-lore.
Then I taught them the tales of old, and fair songs fas.h.i.+oned and true, And their speech grew into music of measured time and due, And they smote the harp to my bidding, and the land grew soft and sweet: But ere the gra.s.s of their grave-mounds rose up above my feet, It was Bragi had made them sweet-mouthed, and I was the wandering scald; Yet green did my cunning flourish by whatso name I was called, And I grew the master of masters--Think thou how strange it is That the sword in the hands of a stripling shall one day end all this!
”Yet oft mid all my wisdom did I long for my brother's part, And Fafnir's mighty kings.h.i.+p weighed heavy on my heart When the Kings of the earthly kingdoms would give me golden gifts From out of their scanty treasures, due pay for my cunning s.h.i.+fts.
And once--didst thou number the years thou wouldst think it long ago-- I wandered away to the country from whence our stem did grow.
There methought the fells grown greater, but waste did the meadows lie, And the house was rent and ragged and open to the sky.
But lo, when I came to the doorway, great silence brooded there, Nor bat nor owl would haunt it, nor the wood-wolves drew anear.
Then I went to the pillared hall-stead, and lo, huge heaps of gold, And to and fro amidst them a mighty Serpent rolled: Then my heart grew chill with terror, for I thought on the wont of our race, And I, who had lost their cunning, was a man in a deadly place, A feeble man and a swordless in the lone destroyer's fold; For I knew that the Worm was Fafnir, the Wallower on the Gold.
”So I gathered my strength and fled, and hid my shame again Mid the foolish sons of men-folk; and the more my hope was vain, The more I longed for the Treasure, and deliv'rance from the yoke: And yet pa.s.sed the generations, and I dwelt with the short-lived folk.
”Long years, and long years after, the tale of men-folk told How up on the Glittering Heath was the house and the dwelling of gold, And within that house was the Serpent, and the Lord of the Fearful Face: Then I wondered sore of the desert; for I thought of the golden place My hands of old had builded; for I knew by many a sign That the Fearful Face was my brother, that the blood of the Worm was mine.
This was ages long ago, and yet in that desert he dwells, Betwixt him and men death lieth, and no man of his semblance tells; But the tale of the great Gold-wallower is never the more outworn.
Then came thy kin, O Sigurd, and thy father's father was born, And I fell to the dreaming of dreams, and I saw thine eyes therein, And I looked and beheld thy glory and all that thy sword should win; And I thought that thou shouldst be he, who should bring my heart its rest, That of all the gifts of the Kings thy sword should give me the best.
”Ah, I fell to the dreaming of dreams; and oft the gold I saw, And the golden-fas.h.i.+oned Hauberk, clean-wrought without a flaw, And the Helm that aweth the world; and I knew of Fafnir's heart That his wisdom was greater than mine, because he had held him apart, Nor spilt on the sons of men-folk our knowledge of ancient days, Nor bartered one whit for their love, nor craved for the people's praise.
”And some day I shall have it all, his gold and his craft and his heart And the gathered and garnered wisdom he guards in the mountains apart And then when my hand is upon it, my hand shall be as the spring To thaw his winter away and the fruitful tide to bring.
It shall grow, it shall grow into summer, and I shall be he that wrought, And my deeds shall be remembered, and my name that once was nought; Yea I shall be Frey, and Thor, and Freyia, and Bragi in one: Yea the G.o.d of all that is,--and no deed in the wide world done, But the deed that my heart would fas.h.i.+on: and the songs of the freed from the yoke Shall bear to my house in the heavens the love and the longing of folk.
And there shall be no more dying, and the sea shall be as the land, And the world for ever and ever shall be young beneath my hand.”
Then his eyelids fell, and he slumbered, and it seemed as Sigurd gazed That the flames leapt up in the st.i.thy and about the Master blazed, And his hand in the harp-strings wandered and the sweetness from them poured.
Then unto his feet leapt Sigurd and drew his stripling's sword, And he cried: ”Awake, O Master, for, lo, the day goes by, And this too is an ancient story, that the sons of men-folk die, And all save fame departeth. Awake! for the day grows late, And deeds by the door are pa.s.sing, nor the Norns will have them wait.”
Then Regin groaned and wakened, sad-eyed and heavy-browed, And weary and worn was he waxen, as a man by a burden bowed: And he spake: ”Hast thou hearkened, Sigurd, wilt thou help a man that is old To avenge him for his father? Wilt thou win that Treasure of Gold And be more than the Kings of the earth? Wilt thou rid the earth of a wrong And heal the woe and the sorrow my heart hath endured o'erlong?”
Then Sigurd looked upon him with steadfast eyes and clear, And Regin drooped and trembled as he stood the doom to hear: But the bright child spake as aforetime, and answered the Master and said: ”Thou shalt have thy will, and the Treasure, and take the curse on thine head.”
_Of the forging of the Sword that is called The Wrath of Sigurd._
Now again came Sigurd to Regin, and said: ”Thou hast taught me a task Whereof none knoweth the ending: and a gift at thine hands I ask.”
Then answered Regin the Master: ”The world must be wide indeed If my hand may not reach across it for aught thine heart may need.”
”Yea wide is the world,” said Sigurd, ”and soon spoken is thy word; But this gift thou shalt nought gainsay me: for I bid thee forge me a sword.”
Then spake the Master of Masters, and his voice was sweet and soft: ”Look forth abroad, O Sigurd, and note in the heavens aloft How the dim white moon of the daylight hangs round as the Goth-G.o.d's s.h.i.+eld, Now for thee first rang mine anvil when she walked the heavenly field A slim and lovely lady, and the old moon lay on her arm: Lo, here is a sword I have wrought thee with many a spell and charm And all the craft of the Dwarf-kind; be glad thereof and sure; Mid many a storm of battle full well shall it endure.”
Then Sigurd looked on the slayer, and never a word would speak: Gemmed were the hilts and golden, and the blade was blue and bleak, And runes of the Dwarf-kind's cunning each side the trench were scored: But soft and sweet spake Regin: ”How likest thou the sword?”
Then Sigurd laughed and answered: ”The work is proved by the deed; See now if this be a traitor to fail me in my need.”
Then Regin trembled and shrank, so bright his eyes outshone As he turned about to the anvil, and smote the sword thereon; But the shards fell s.h.i.+vering earthward, and Sigurd's heart grew wroth As the steel-flakes tinkled about him: ”Lo, there the right-hand's troth!
Lo, there the golden glitter, and the word that soon is spilt.”
And down amongst the ashes he cast the glittering hilt, And turned his back on Regin and strode out through the door, And for many a day of spring-tide came back again no more.