Part 33 (2/2)

There she saw the walls most mighty as they came to the fenced place: But lo, by the gate of the city and the entering in of the street Is an host exceeding glorious, for the King his bride will greet: So Gudrun stayeth her fellows, and lighteth down from the wain, And afoot cometh Atli to meet hers and they meet in the midst, they twain, And he casteth his arms about her as a great man glad at heart; Nought she smiles, nor her brow is knitted as she draweth aback and apart, No man could say who beheld her if sorry or glad she were; But her steady eyes are beholding the King and the Eastland's Fear, And she thinks: Have I lived too long? how swift doth the world grow worse, Though it was but a little season that I slept, forgetting the curse!

But the King speaks kingly unto her and they pa.s.s forth under the gate, And she sees he is rich and mighty, though the Niblung folk be great; So strong is his house upbuilded, so many are his lords, So great the hosts for the murder and the meeting of the swords; And she saith: It is surely enough and no further now shall I wend; In this house, in the house of a stranger shall be the tale and the end.

_Atli biddeth the Niblungs to him._

There now is Gudrun abiding, and gone by is the bloom of her youth, And she dwells with a folk untrusty, and a King that knows not ruth: Great are his gains in the world, and few men may his might withstand, But he weigheth sore on his people and c.u.mbers the hope of his land; He craves as the sea-flood craveth, he gripes as the dying hour, All folk lie faint before him as he seeketh a soul to devour: Like breedeth like in his house, and venom, and guile, and the knife Oft lie 'twixt brother and brother, and the son and the father's life: As dogs doth Gudrun heed them, and looks with steadfast eyes On the guile and base contention, and the strife of murder and lies.

So pa.s.s the days and the moons, and the seasons wend on their ways, And there as a woman alone she sits mid the glory and praise: There oft in the hall she sitteth, and as empty images Are grown the shapes of the strangers, till her fathers' hall she sees: Void then seems the throne of the King, and no man sits by her side In the house of the Cloudy People and the place of her brethren's pride; But a dead man lieth before her, and there cometh a voice and a hand, And the cloth is plucked from the dead, and, lo, the beloved of the land, The righter of wrongs, the deliverer, yea he that gainsayed no grace: In a stranger's house is Gudrun and no change comes over her face, But her heart cries: Woe, woe, woe, O woe unto me and to all!

On the fools, on the wise, on the evil let the swift destruction fall!

Cold then is her voice in the high-seat, and she hears not what it saith; But Atli heedeth and hearkeneth, for she tells of the Glittering Heath, And the Load of the mighty Greyfell, and the Ransom of Odin the Goth: Cold yet is her voice as she telleth of murder and breaking of troth, Of the stubborn hearts of the Niblungs, and their hands that never yield, Of their craving that nought fulfilleth, of their hosts arrayed for the field.

--What then are the words of King Atli that the cold voice answereth thus?

”King, so shalt thou do, and be sackless of the vengeance that lieth with us: What words are these of my brethren, what words are these of my kin?

For kin upon kin hath pity, and good deeds do brethren win For the babes of their mothers' bosoms, and the children of one womb: But no man on me had pity, no kings were gathered for doom, When I lifted my hands for the pleading in the house of my father's folk; When men turned and wrapped them in treason, and did on wrong as a cloak: I have neither brethren nor kindred, and I am become thy wife To help thine heart to its craving, and strengthen thine hand in the strife.”

Thus she stirred up the l.u.s.t of Atli, she, unmoved as a mighty queen, While the fire that burned within her by no child of man was seen.

There oft in the bed she lieth, and beside her Atli sleeps, And she seeth him not nor heedeth, for the horror over her creeps, And her own cry rings through the chamber that along ago she cried, And a man for his life-breath gasping is struggling by her side, Yea, who but Sigurd the Volsung; and no man of men in death Ere spake such words of pity as the words that now he saith, As the words he speaketh ever while he riseth up on the sword, The sword of the foster-brethren and the Kings that swore the word.

Lo, there she lieth and hearkeneth if yet he speak again, And long she lieth hearkening and lieth by the slain.

So dreams the waking Gudrun till the morn comes on apace And the daylight s.h.i.+nes on Atli, and no change comes over her face, And deep hush lies on the chamber; but loud cries out her heart: How long, how long, O G.o.d-folk, will ye sit alone and apart, And let the blood of Sigurd cry on you from the earth, While crowned are the sons of murder with wors.h.i.+p and with worth?

If ye tarry shall I tarry? From the darkness of the womb Came I not in the days pa.s.sed over for accomplis.h.i.+ng your doom?

So she saith till the daylight brightens, and the kingly house is astir, And she sits by the side of Atli, and a woman's voice doth hear, One who speaks with the voice of Gudrun, a queenly voice and cold: ”How oft shall I tell thee, Atli, of the wise Andvari's Gold, The Treasure Regin craved for, the uncounted ruddy rings?

Full surely he that holds it shall rule all earthly kings: Stretch forth thine hand, O Atli, for the gift is marvellous great, And I am she that giveth! how long wilt thou linger and wait Till the traitors come against thee with the war-torch and the steel, And here in thy land thou perish, befooled of thy kingly weal?

Have I wedded the King of the Eastlands, the master of numberless swords, Or a serving-man of the Niblungs, a thrall of the Westland lords?”

So spake the voice of Gudrun; suchwise she cast the seed O'er the gold-l.u.s.t of King Atli for the day of the Niblungs' Need.

Who is this in the hall of King Gunnar, this golden-gleaming man?

Who is this, the bright and the silent as the frosty eve and wan, Round whom the speech of wise-ones lies hid in bonds of fear?

Who this in the Niblung feast-hall as the moon-rise draweth anear?

Hark! his voice mid the glittering benches and the wine-cups of the Earls, As cold as the wind that bloweth where the winter river whirls, And the winter sun forgetteth all the promise of the spring: ”Hear ye, O men of the Westlands, hear thou, O Westland King, I have ridden the scorching highways, I have ridden the mirk-wood blind, I have sailed the weltering ocean your Westland house to find; For I am the man called Knefrud with Atli's word in my mouth.

That saith: O n.o.ble Gunnar, come thou and be glad in the south, And rejoice with Eastland warriors; for the feast for thee is dight, And the cloths for thy coming fas.h.i.+oned my glorious hall make bright.

Knowst thou not how the sun of the heavens hangs there 'twixt floor and roof.

How the light of the lamp all golden holds dusky night aloof?

How the red wine runs like a river, and the white wine springs as a well, And the harps are never ceasing of ancient deeds to tell?

Thou shalt come when thy heart desireth, when thou weariest thou shalt go, And shalt say that no such high-tide the world shall ever know.

Come bare and bald as the desert, and leave mine house again As rich as the summer wine-burg, and the ancient wheat-sown plain!

Come, bid thy men be building thy store-house greater yet, And make wide thy stall and thy stable for the gifts thine hand shall get!

Yet when thou art gone from Atli he shall stand by his treasure of gold, He shall look through stall and stable, he shall ride by field and fold, And no ounce from the weight shall be lacking, of his beasts shall lack no head, If no thief hath stolen from Gunnar, if no beast in his land lie dead.

Yea henceforth let our lives be as one, let our wars and our wayfarings blend, That my name with thine may be told of when the song is sung in the end, That the ancient war-spent Atli may sit and laugh with delight O'er thy feet the swift in battle, o'er thine hand uplifted to smite.”

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