Part 14 (2/2)

Then Sigurd laughed and answered: ”Fare forth, O glorious sun; Bright end from bright beginning, and the mid-way good to tell, And death, and deeds accomplished, and all remembered well!

Shall the day go past and leave us, and we be left with night, To tread the endless circle, and strive in vain to smite?

But thou--wilt thou still look backward? thou sayst I know thy thought: Thou hast whetted the sword for the slaying, it shall turn aside for nought.

Fear not! with the Gold and the wisdom thou shalt deem thee G.o.d alone, And mayst do and undo at pleasure, nor be bound by right nor wrong: And then, if no G.o.d I be waxen, I shall be the weak with the strong.”

And his war-gear clanged and tinkled as he leapt to the saddle-stead: And the sun rose up at their backs and the grey world changed to red, And away to the west went Sigurd by the glory wreathed about, But little and black was Regin as a fire that dieth out.

Day-long they rode the mountains by the crags exceeding old, And the ash that the first of the Dwarf-kind found dull and quenched and cold.

Then the moon in the mid-sky swam, and the stars were fair and pale, And beneath the naked heaven they slept in an ash-grey dale; And again at the dawn-dusk's ending they stood upon their feet, And Sigurd donned his war-gear nor his eyes would Regin meet.

A clear streak widened in heaven low down above the earth; And above it lay the cloud-flecks, and the sun, anigh its birth, Unseen, their hosts was staining with the very hue of blood, And ruddy by Greyfell's shoulder the Son of Sigmund stood.

Then spake the Master of Masters: ”What is thine hope this morn That thou dightest thee, O Sigurd, to ride this world forlorn?”

”What needeth hope,” said Sigurd, ”when the heart of the Volsungs turns To the light of the Glittering Heath, and the house where the Waster burns?

I shall slay the Foe of the G.o.ds, as thou badst me a while agone, And then with the Gold and its wisdom shalt thou be left alone.”

”O Child,” said the King of the Dwarf-kind, ”when the day at last comes round For the dread and the Dusk of the G.o.ds, and the kin of the Wolf is unbound, When thy sword shall hew the fire, and the wildfire beateth thy s.h.i.+eld, Shalt thou praise the wages of hope and the G.o.ds that pitched the field?”

”O Foe of the G.o.ds,” said Sigurd, ”wouldst thou hide the evil thing, And the curse that is greater than thou, lest death end thy labouring, Lest the night should come upon thee amidst thy toil for nought?

It is me, it is me that thou fearest, if indeed I know thy thought; Yea me, who would utterly light the face of all good and ill, If not with the fruitful beams that the summer shall fulfill, Then at least with the world a-blazing, and the glare of the grinded sword.”

And he sprang aloft to the saddle as he spake the latest word, And the Wrath sang loud in the sheath as it ne'er had sung before, And the cloudy flecks were scattered like flames on the heaven's floor, And all was kindled at once, and that trench of the mountains grey Was filled with the living light as the low sun lit the way: But Regin turned from the glory with blinded eyes and dazed, And lo, on the cloudy war-steed how another light there blazed, And a great voice came from amidst it: ”O Regin, in good sooth, I have hearkened not nor heeded the words of thy fear and thy ruth: Thou hast told thy tale and thy longing, and thereto I hearkened well:-- Let it lead thee up to heaven, let it lead thee down to h.e.l.l, The deed shall be done tomorrow: thou shalt have that measureless Gold, And devour the garnered wisdom that blessed thy realm of old, That hath lain unspent and begrudged in the very heart of hate: With the blood and the might of thy brother thine hunger shalt thou sate; And this deed shall be mine and thine; but take heed for what followeth then!

Let each do after his kind! I shall do the deeds of men; I shall harvest the field of their sowing, in the bed of their strewing shall sleep; To them shall I give my life-days, to the G.o.ds my glory to keep.

But thou with the wealth and the wisdom that the best of the G.o.ds might praise, If thou shalt indeed excel them and become the hope of the days, Then me in turn hast thou conquered, and I shall be in turn Thy fas.h.i.+oned brand of the battle through good and evil to burn, Or the flame that sleeps in thy st.i.thy for the gathered winds to blow, When thou listest to do and undo and thine uttermost cunning to show.

But indeed I wot full surely that thou shalt follow thy kind; And for all that cometh after, the Norns shall loose and bind.”

Then his bridle-reins rang sweetly, and the warding-walls of death, And Regin drew up to him, and the Wrath sang loud in the sheath, And forth from that trench in the mountains by the westward way they ride; And little and black goes Regin by the golden Volsung's side; But no more his head is drooping, for he seeth the Elf-king's Gold; The garnered might and the wisdom e'en now his eyes behold.

So up and up they journeyed, and ever as they went About the cold-slaked forges, o'er many a cloud-swept bent, Betwixt the walls of blackness, by sh.o.r.es of the fishless meres, And the fathomless desert waters, did Regin cast his fears, And wrap him in desire; and all alone he seemed As a G.o.d to his heirs.h.i.+p wending, and forgotten and undreamed Was all the tale of Sigurd, and the folk he had toiled among, And the Volsungs, Odin's children, and the men-folk fair and young.

So on they ride to the westward; and huge were the mountains grown And the floor of heaven was mingled with that tossing world of stone: And they rode till the noon was forgotten and the sun was waxen low, And they tarried not, though he perished, and the world grew dark below.

Then they rode a mighty desert, a glimmering place and wide, And into a narrow pa.s.s high-walled on either side By the blackness of the mountains, and barred aback and in face By the empty night of the shadow; a windless silent place: But the white moon shone o'erhead mid the small sharp stars and pale, And each as a man alone they rode on the highway of bale.

So ever they wended upward, and the midnight hour was o'er, And the stars grew pale and paler, and failed from the heaven's floor, And the moon was a long while dead, but where was the promise of day?

No change came over the darkness, no streak of the dawning grey; No sound of the wind's uprising adown the night there ran: It was blind as the Gaping Gulf ere the first of the worlds began.

Then athwart and athwart rode Sigurd and sought the walls of the pa.s.s, But found no wall before him; and the road rang hard as bra.s.s Beneath the hoofs of Greyfell, as up and up he trod: --Was it the daylight of h.e.l.l, or the night of the doorway of G.o.d?

But lo, at the last a glimmer, and a light from the west there came, And another and another, like points of far-off flame; And they grew and brightened and gathered; and whiles together they ran Like the moon wake over the waters; and whiles they were scant and wan, Some greater and some lesser, like the boats of fishers laid About the sea of midnight; and a dusky dawn they made, A faint and glimmering twilight: So Sigurd strains his eyes, And he sees how a land deserted all round about him lies More changeless than mid-ocean, as fruitless as its floor: Then the heart leaps up within him, for he knows that his journey is o'er.

And there he draweth bridle on the first of the Glittering Heath: And the Wrath is waxen merry and sings in the golden sheath As he leaps adown from Greyfell, and stands upon his feet, And wends his ways through the twilight the Foe of the G.o.ds to meet.

_Sigurd slayeth Fafnir the Serpent._

Nought Sigurd seeth of Regin, and nought he heeds of him, As in watchful might and glory he strides the desert dim, And behind him paceth Greyfell; but he deems the time o'erlong Till he meet the great gold-warden, the over-lord of wrong.

So he wendeth midst the silence through the measureless desert place, And beholds the countless glitter with wise and steadfast face, Till him-seems in a little season that the flames grown somewhat wan, And a grey thing glimmers before him, and becomes a mighty man.

One-eyed and ancient-seeming, in cloud-grey raiment clad; A friendly man and glorious, and of visage smiling-glad: Then content in Sigurd groweth because of his majesty, And he heareth him speak in the desert as the wind of the winter sea:

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