Part 37 (2/2)

Yet thrice stormed out King Hogni, thrice stormed out Gunnar the King, Thrice fell they aback yet living to the heart of the fated ring; And they looked and their band was little, and no man but was wounded sore, And the hall seemed growing greater, such hosts of foes it bore, So tossed the iron harvest from wall to gilded wall; And they looked and the white-clad Gudrun sat silent over all.

Then the churls and thralls of the Eastland howled out as wolves accurst, But oft gaped the Niblungs voiceless, for they choked with anger and thirst; And the hall grew hot as a furnace, and men drank their flowing blood, Men laughed and gnawed on their s.h.i.+eld-rims, men knew not where they stood And saw not what was before them; as in the dark men smote, Men died heart-broken, unsmitten; men wept with the cry in the throat, Men lived on full of war-shafts, men cast their s.h.i.+elds aside And caught the spears to their bosoms; men rushed with none beside, And fell unarmed on the foemen, and tore and slew in death: And still down rained the arrows as the rain across the heath; Still proud o'er all the turmoil stood the Kings of Giuki born, Nor knit were the brows of Gunnar, nor his song-speech overworn; But Hogni's mouth kept silence, and oft his heart went forth To the long, long day of the darkness, and the end of worldly worth.

Loud rose the roar of the East-folk, and the end was coming at last; Now the foremost locked their s.h.i.+eld-rims and the hindmost over them cast, And nigher they drew and nigher, and their fear was fading away, For every man of the Niblungs on the shaft-strewn pavement lay, Save Gunnar the King and Hogni: still the glorious King up-bore The cloudy s.h.i.+eld of the Niblungs set full of shafts of war; But Hogni's hands had fainted, and his s.h.i.+eld had sunk adown, So thick with the Eastland spearwood was that rampart of renown; And hacked and dull were the edges that had rent the wall of foes; Yet he stood upright by Gunnar before that s.h.i.+elded close, Nor looked on the foemen's faces as their wild eyes drew anear, And their faltering s.h.i.+eld-rims clattered with the remnant of their fear; But he gazed on the Niblung woman, and the daughter of his folk, Who sat o'er all unchanging ere the war-cloud over them broke.

Now nothing might men hearken in the house of Atli's weal, Save the feet slow tramping onward, and the rattling of the steel, And the song of the glorious Gunnar, that rang as clearly now As the speckled storm-c.o.c.k singeth from the scant-leaved hawthorn-bough When the sun is dusking over and the March snow pelts the land.

There stood the mighty Gunnar with sword and s.h.i.+eld in hand, There stood the s.h.i.+eldless Hogni with set unangry eyes, And watched the wall of war-s.h.i.+elds o'er the dead men's rampart rise, And the white blades flickering nigher, and the quavering points of war.

Then the heavy air of the feast-hall was rent with a fearful roar, And the turmoil came and the tangle, as the wall together ran: But aloft yet towered the Niblungs, and man toppled over man, And leapt and struggled to tear them; as whiles amidst the sea The doomed s.h.i.+p strives its utmost with mid-ocean's mastery, And the tall masts whip the cordage, while the welter whirls and leaps, And they rise and reel and waver, and sink amid the deeps: So before the little-hearted in King Atli's murder-hall Did the glorious sons of Giuki 'neath the s.h.i.+elded onrush fall: Sore wounded, bound and helpless, but living yet, they lie Till the afternoon and the even in the first of night shall die.

_Of the Slaying of the Niblung Kings._

Lo now, 'tis an hour or twain, and a labour lightly won By the serving-men of Atli, and the Niblung blood is gone From the golden house of his greatness, and the Eastland dead no more Lie in great heaps together on Atli's mazy floor: Then they cast fair summer blossoms o'er the footprints of the dead, They wreathe round Atli's high-seat and the benches fair bespread, And they light the odorous torches, and the sun of the golden roof, Till the candles of King Atli hold dusky night aloof.

So they toil and are heavy-hearted, nor know what next shall betide, As they look on the stranger-woman in the heart of Atli's pride.

Now stand they aback for the trumpet and the merry minstrelsy, For they tremble before King Atli, and golden-clad is he, And his golden crown is heavy and he strides exceeding slow, With the wise and the mighty about him, through the house of the Niblungs' woe.

There then by the Niblung woman on the throne he sat him down, And folk heard the gold gear tinkle and the rings of the Eastland crown: Folk looked on his rich adornment, on King Atli's pride they gazed, And the bright beams wearied their eyen, by the glory were they dazed; There the councillors kept silence and the warriors clad in steel, All men lowly, all men mighty, that had care of Atli's weal; Yea there in the hall were they waiting for the word to come from his lips, As they of the merchant-city behold the s.h.i.+eld-hung s.h.i.+ps Sweep slow through the windless haven with their gaping heads of gold, And they know not their nation and names, nor hath aught of their errand been told.

But King Atli looketh before him, and is grown too great to rejoice, And he speaks and the world is troubled, though thin and scant be his voice:

”Bring forth the fallen and conquered, bring forth the bounden thrall, That they who were once the Niblungs did once King Hogni call.”

So they brought him fettered and bound; and scarce on his feet he stood, But men stayed him up by the King; for the sword had drunk of his blood, And the might of his body had failed him, and yet so great was he That the East-folk cowered before him and the might of his majesty.

Then spake the all-great Atli: ”Thou yielded thrall of war, I would hear thee tell of the Treasure, the h.o.a.rd of the kings of yore!”

But words were grown heavy to Hogni, and scarce he spake with a smile: ”Let the living seek their desire; for indeed thou shalt live for a while.”

”Wilt thou speak and live,” said Atli, ”nor pay for the blood thou hast spilt?”

Said he: ”Thou art waxen so mighty, thou mayst have the Gold when thou wilt.”

Said the King: ”I will give thee thy life, and forgive thee measureless woe.”

”It was gathered for thee,” said Hogni, ”and fas.h.i.+oned long ago.”

”Speak, man o'ercome,” quoth Atli: ”Is life so little a thing?”

”Art thou mighty? put forth thine hand and gather the Gold!” said the King.

”Wilt thou tell of the Gold,” said the East-King, ”the desire of many eyes?”

”Yea, once on a day,” said Hogni, ”when the dead from the sea shall arise.”

Said he: ”So great is my longing, that, O foe, I would have thee live, Yea, live and be great as aforetime, if this word thou yet wouldst give.”

Said the Niblung: ”Thee shall I heed, or the longing of thy pride?

I, who heeded Sigurd nothing, who thrust mine oath aside, When the years were young and goodly and the summer bore increase!

Shall I crave my life of the greedy and pray for days of peace?

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