Part 15 (2/2)

”How lieth Sigurd the Volsung, and the Son of Sigmund the King?”

”O bitter father of Sigurd!--thou hast cleft mine heart atwain!”

”I arose, and I wondered and wended, and I smote, and I smote not in vain.”

”What master hath taught thee of murder?--Thou hast wasted Fafnir's day.”

”I, Sigurd, knew and desired, and the bright sword learned the way.”

”Thee, thee shall the rattling Gold and the red rings bring to the bane.”

”Yet mine hand shall cast them abroad, and the earth shall gather again.”

”I see thee great in thine anger, and the Norns thou heedest not.”

”O Fafnir, speak of the Norns and the wisdom unforgot!”

”Let the death-doomed flee from the ocean, him the wind and the weather shall drown.”

”O Fafnir, tell of the Norns ere thy life thou layest adown!”

”O manifold is their kindred, and who shall tell them all?

There are they that rule o'er men-folk and the stars that rise and fall: --I knew of the folk of the Dwarfs, and I knew their Norns of old; And I fought, and I fell in the morning, and I die afar from the gold: --I have seen the G.o.ds of heaven, and their Norns withal I know: They love and withhold their helping, they hate and refrain the blow; They curse and they may not sunder, they bless and they shall not blend; They have fas.h.i.+oned the good and the evil; they abide the change and the end.”

”O Fafnir, what of the Isle, and what hast thou known of its name, Where the G.o.ds shall mingle edges with Surt and the Sons of the Flame?”

”O child, O Strong Compeller! Unshapen is it hight; There the fallow blades shall be shaken and the Dark and the Day shall smite, When the Bridge of the G.o.ds is broken, and their white steeds swim the sea, And the uttermost field is stricken, last strife of thee and me.”

”What then shall endure, O Fafnir, the tale of the battle to tell?”

”I am blind, O Strong Compeller, in the bonds of Death and h.e.l.l.

But thee shall the rattling Gold and the red rings bring unto bane.”

”Yet the rings mine hand shall scatter, and the earth shall gather again.”

”Woe, woe! in the days pa.s.sed over I bore the Helm of Dread, I reared the Face of Terror, and the h.o.a.rded hate of the Dead: I overcame and was mighty; I was wise and cherished my heart In the waste where no man wandered, and the high house builded apart: Till I met thine hand, O Sigurd, and thy might ordained from of old; And I fought and fell in the morning, and I die far off from the Gold.”

Then Sigurd leaned on his sword, and a dreadful voice went by Like the wail of a G.o.d departing and the War-G.o.d's misery; And strong words of ancient wisdom went by on the desert wind, The words that mar and fas.h.i.+on, the words that loose and bind; And sounds of a strange lamenting, and such strange things bewailed, That words to tell their meaning the tongue of man hath failed.

Then all sank into silence, and the Son of Sigmund stood On the torn and furrowed desert by the pool of Fafnir's blood, And the Serpent lay before him, dead, chilly, dull, and grey; And over the Glittering Heath fair shone the sun and the day, And a light wind followed the sun and breathed o'er the fateful place, As fresh as it furrows the sea-plain or bows the acres' face.

_Sigurd slayeth Regin the Master of Masters on the Glittering Heath._

There standeth Sigurd the Volsung, and leaneth on his sword, And beside him now is Greyfell and looks on his golden lord, And the world is awake and living; and whither now shall they wend, Who have come to the Glittering Heath, and wrought that deed to its end?

For hither comes Regin the Master from the skirts of the field of death, And he shadeth his eyes from the sunlight as afoot he goeth and saith: ”Ah, let me live for a while! for a while and all shall be well, When pa.s.sed is the house of murder and I creep from the prison of h.e.l.l.”

Afoot he went o'er the desert, and he came unto Sigurd and stared At the golden gear of the man, and the Wrath yet b.l.o.o.d.y and bared, And the light locks raised by the wind, and the eyes beginning to smile, And the lovely lips of the Volsung, and the brow that knew no guile; And he murmured under his breath while his eyes grew white with wrath:

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