Part 35 (2/2)

So he spake, and his love rejoiced her, and they rose in the face of the day, And no seeming shadow of evil on those bright-eyed King-folk lay.

Thus stirreth the house of the Niblungs, and awakeneth unto life; And were there any envy, or doubt that breedeth strife, 'Twixt friends or kin or brethren, 'twas healed that self-same morn, And peace and loving-kindness o'er all the house was borne,

Now arrayed are the earls and the warriors, and into the hall they come When the morning sun is s.h.i.+ning through the heart of their ancient home; And lo, how the allwise Grimhild is set in the golden seat, The first of the way-fain warriors, and the first of the wives to greet; In the raiment of old she sitteth, aloft in the kingly place, And all men marvel to see her and the glory of her face.

So all is dight for departing and the helms of the Niblung lords s.h.i.+ne close as a river of fire o'er the hilts of hidden swords: About and around are the women; and who e'er hath been heavy of heart, If their hearts are light this morning when their fairest shall depart?

They hear the steeds in the forecourt; from the rampart of the wall Comes the cry and noise of the warders as man to man doth call; For the young give place to the old, and the strong carles labour to show The last-learned craft of battle to their fathers ere they go.

There is mocking and mirth and laughter as men tell to the ancient sires Of the four-sheared shaft of the gathering, and the horn, and the beaconing fires.

Woe's me! but the women laugh not: do they hope that the sun may be stayed, And the journey of the Niblungs a little while delayed?

Or is not their hope the rather, that they do but dream in the night, And that they shall awake in a little with the land's life faring aright?

Ah, fair and fresh is the morning as ever a season hath been, And the nouris.h.i.+ng sun s.h.i.+nes glorious on the toil of carle and quean, And the wealth of the land desired, and all things are alive and awake; Let them wait till the even bringeth sweet rest for hearts that ache.

Lo now, a stir by the doorway, and men see how great and grand Come the Kings of Giuki begotten, all-armed, and hand in hand: Where then shall the world behold them, such champions clad in steel, Such hearts so free and bounteous, so wise for the people's weal?

Where then shall the world see such-like, if these must die as the mean, And fall as lowly people, and their days be no more seen?

They go forth fair and softly as they wend to the seat of the Kings, And they smile in their loving-kindness as they talk of bygone things.

Are they not as the children of Giuki, that fared afield erewhile In hope without contention, mid the youth that knew no guile?

Their wedded wives are beside them with faces proud and fair, That smile, if the lips smile only, for the Eastland liar is there.

Fain the women are of those Brethren, and they seem so gay and kind, That again the hope upspringeth of their lords abiding behind.

But Hogni spake to his brother, and they looked on the liar's son, And clear ran King Gunnar's laughter as the summer waters run; Then the Queens' hearts fainted within them, and with pain they drew their breath; For they knew that the King was merry and laughed in the face of death.

Fair now on the ancient high-seat, and the heart of the Niblung pride, Stand those lovely lords of Giuki with their wedded wives beside.

And Gunnar cries: ”O maidens, let the cup be in every hand, For this morn for a little season we leave our fathers' land, And love we leave behind us, and love abroad we bear, And these twain shall meet in a little, and their meeting-tide be fair: Rejoice, O Niblung children, be glad o'er the parting cup!

For meseems if the heavens were falling, our spears should hold them up.”

Then he leaped adown from the high-seat and amidst his men he stood, And the very joy of G.o.d-folk ran through the Niblung blood, And the glee of them that die not: there they drink in their mighty hall, And glad on the ancient fathers, and the sons of G.o.d they call: The hope of their hearts goes upward in the last most awful voice, And once more the quivering timbers of the Niblung home rejoice.

But exceeding proud sits Grimhild, and so wondrous is her state That men deem they have never seen her so glorious and so great, And she speaks, when again in the feast-hall is there silence save of the mail And the whispered voice of women, as they tell their latest tale:

”Go forth, O Kings, to dominion, and the crown of all your might, And the tale from of old foreordered ere the day was begotten of night.

For all this is the work of the Norns, though ye leave a woman behind Who hath toiled and toiled in the darkness, the road of fate to find: Go glad, O children of Giuki; though scarce ye wot indeed Of the labour of your mother to win your glory's meed.

Farewell, farewell, O children, till ye get you back again To her that bore you in darkness, and brought you forth in pain!

Cast wide the doors for the King-folk, ring out O harpstrings now!

For the best e'er born of woman go forth with cloudless brow.

Be glad O ancient lintel, O threshold of the door, For such another parting shall earth behold no more!”

She ceased, and no voice gave answer save the voice of smitten harps, As the hands of the music-weavers went o'er their golden warps; Then high o'er the warriors towering, as the king-leek o'er the gra.s.s, Out into the world of sunlight through the door those Brethren pa.s.s, And all the host of the warriors, the women's silent woe, The steel and the feet soft-falling o'er the ancient threshold go, While all alone on the high-seat the G.o.d-born Grimhild sits: There hearkeneth she steeds' neighing, and the champing of the bits, And the clash of steel-clad champions, as at last they leap aloft, And cries and women's weeping 'mid the music breathing soft; Then the clattering of the horse-hoofs, and the echo of the gate With the wakened sword-song singing o'er departure of the great, Till the many mingled voices are swallowed up and stilled, And all the air by seeming with an awful sound is filled, The cry of the Niblung trumpet, as men reach the unwalled s.p.a.ce: So whiles in a mighty city, and a many-peopled place, When the rain falls down 'mid the babble, nor ceaseth rattle of wheels, And with din of wedding joy-bells the minster steeple reels, Lo, G.o.d sends down his thunder, and all else is hushed as then, And it is as the world's beginning, and before the birth of men.

Long sitteth the G.o.d-born Grimhild till all is silent there, For afar down the meadows with the host all people fare; Then bitter groweth her visage, in the hush she crieth and saith:

”O ye--whom then shall I cry on, ye that hunt my sons unto death, And overthrow our glory, and bring our labour to nought-- Ye G.o.ds, ye had fas.h.i.+oned the greatest, and to make them greater I wrought, And to strengthen your hands for the battle, and uplift your hearts for the end: But ye, ye have fas.h.i.+oned confusion, and the great with the little ye blend, Till no more on the earth shall be living the mighty that mock at your death, Till like the leaves men tremble, like the dry leaves quake at a breath.

I have wrought for your lives and your glory, and for this have I strengthened my guile, That the earth your hands uplifted might endure, nor pa.s.s in a while Like the clouds of latter morning that melt in the first of the night.”

She rose up great and dreadful, and stood on the floor upright, And cast up her hands to the roof-tree, and cried aloud and said:

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