--Pa.s.s by me and hearken, and pity me not!

Ye know not how void is your hope and your living: Depart with your helping lest yet ye undo me!

Ye know not that at nightfall she draweth near to me, There is soft speech between us and words of forgiving Till in dead of the midnight her kisses thrill through me.

--Pa.s.s by me and hearken, and waken me not!

Wherewith will ye buy it, ye rich who behold me?

Draw out from your coffers your rest and your laughter, And the fair gilded hope of the dawn coming after!

Nay this I sell not,--though ye bought me and sold me,-- For your house stored with such things from threshold to rafter.

--Pa.s.s by me, I hearken, and think of you not!

4.

Love is enough: ho ye who seek saving, Go no further; come hither; there have been who have found it, And these know the House of Fulfilment of Craving; These know the Cup with the roses around it; These know the World's Wound and the balm that hath bound it: Cry out, the World heedeth not, "Love, lead us home!"

He leadeth, He hearkeneth, He cometh to you-ward; Set your faces as steel to the fears that a.s.semble Round his goad for the faint, and his scourge for the froward: Lo! his lips, how with tales of last kisses they tremble!

Lo! his eyes of all sorrow that may not dissemble!

Cry out, for he heedeth, "O Love, lead us home!"

O hearken the words of his voice of compa.s.sion: "Come cling round about me, ye faithful who sicken Of the weary unrest and the world's pa.s.sing fashion!

As the rain in mid-morning your troubles shall thicken, But surely within you some G.o.dhead doth quicken, As ye cry to me heeding, and leading you home.

"Come--pain ye shall have, and be blind to the ending!

Come--fear ye shall have, mid the sky's overcasting!

Come--change ye shall have, for far are ye wending!

Come--no crown ye shall have for your thirst and your fasting, But the kissed lips of Love and fair life everlasting!

Cry out, for one heedeth, who leadeth you home!"

Is he gone? was he with us?--ho ye who seek saving, Go no further; come hither; for have we not found it?

Here is the House of Fulfilment of Craving; Here is the Cup with the roses around it; The World's Wound well healed, and the balm that hath bound it: Cry out! for he heedeth, fair Love that led home.

FROM

"THE STORY OF SIGURD THE VOLSUNG."

BOOK II.

R E G I N.

Now this is the first book of the life and death of Sigurd the Volsung, and therein is told of the birth of him, and of his dealings with Regin the master of masters, and of his deeds in the waste places of the earth.

_Of the birth of Sigurd the son of Sigmund._

Peace lay on the land of the Helper and the house of Elf his son; There merry men went bedward when their tide of toil was done, And glad was the dawn's awakening, and the noontide fair and glad: There no great store had the franklin, and enough the hireling had; And a child might go unguarded the length and breadth of the land With a purse of gold at his girdle and gold rings on his hand.

'Twas a country of cunning craftsmen, and many a thing they wrought, That the lands of storm desired, and the homes of warfare sought.

But men deemed it o'er-well warded by more than its stems of fight, And told how its earth-born watchers yet lived of plenteous might.

So hidden was that country, and few men sailed its sea, And none came o'er its mountains of men-folk's company.

But fair-fruited, many-peopled, it lies a goodly strip, 'Twixt the mountains cloudy-headed and the sea-flood's surging lip, And a perilous flood is its ocean, and its mountains, who shall tell What things in their dales deserted and their wind-swept heaths may dwell.

Now a man of the Kings, called Gripir, in this land of peace abode: The son of the Helper's father, though never lay his load In the womb of the mother of Kings that the Helper's brethren bore; But of Giant kin was his mother, of the folk that are seen no more; Though whiles as ye ride some fell-road across the heath there comes The voice of their lone lamenting o'er their changed and conquered homes.

A long way off from the sea-strand and beneath the mountains' feet Is the high-built hall of Gripir, where the waste and the tillage meet; A n.o.ble and plentiful house, that a little men-folk fear, But beloved of the crag-dwelling eagles and the kin of the woodland deer.

A man of few words was Gripir, but he knew of all deeds that had been, And times there came upon him, when the deeds to be were seen: No sword had he held in his hand since his father fell to field, And against the life of the slayer he bore undinted shield: Yet no fear in his heart abided, nor desired he aught at all, But he noted the deeds that had been, and looked for what should befall.

Again, in the house of the Helper there dwelt a certain man Beardless and low of stature, of visage pinched and wan: So exceeding old was Regin, that no son of man could tell In what year of the days pa.s.sed over he came to that land to dwell; But the youth of King Elf had he fostered, and the Helper's youth thereto, Yes and his father's father's: the lore of all men he knew, And was deft in every cunning, save the dealings of the sword: So sweet was his tongue-speech fashioned, that men trowed his every word; His hand with the harp-strings blended was the mingler of delight With the latter days of sorrow; all tales he told aright; The Master of the Masters in the smithying craft was he; And he dealt with the wind and the weather and the stilling of the sea; Nor might any learn him leech-craft, for before that race was made, And that man-folk's generation, all their life-days had he weighed.

In this land abideth Hiordis amid all people's praise Till cometh the time appointed: in the fulness of the days Through the dark and the dusk she travailed, till at last in the dawning hour Have the deeds of the Volsungs blossomed, and born their latest flower; In the bed there lieth a man child, and his eyes look straight on the sun, And lo, the hope of the people, and the days of a king are begun.

Men say of the serving-women, when they cried on the joy of the morn, When they handled the linen raiment, and washed the king new-born, When they bore him back unto Hiordis, and the weary and happy breast, And bade her be glad to behold it, how the best was sprung from the best, Yet they shrank in their rejoicing before the eyes of the child, So bright and dreadful were they; yea though the spring morn smiled, And a thousand birds were singing round the fair familiar home, And still as on other mornings they saw folk go and come, Yet the hour seemed awful to them, and the hearts within them burned As though of fateful matters their souls were newly learned.

But Hiordis looked on the Volsung, on her grief and her fond desire, And the hope of her heart was quickened, and her joy was a living fire; And she said: "Now one of the earthly on the eyes of my child hath gazed Nor shrunk before their glory, nor stayed her love amazed: I behold thee as Sigmund beholdeth,--and I was the home of thine heart-- Woe's me for the day when thou wert not, and the hour when we shall part!"

Then she held him a little season on her weary and happy breast And she told him of Sigmund and Volsung and the best sprung forth from the best: She spake to the new-born baby as one who might understand, And told him of Sigmund's battle, and the dead by the sea-flood's strand, And of all the wars pa.s.sed over, and the light with darkness blent.

So she spake, and the sun rose higher, and her speech at last was spent, And she gave him back to the women to bear forth to the people's kings, That they too may rejoice in her glory and her day of happy things.

But there sat the Helper of Men with King Elf and Earls in the hall, And they spake of the deeds that had been, and told of the times to befall, And they hearkened and heard sweet voices and the sound of harps draw nigh, Till their hearts were exceeding merry and they knew not wherefore or why: Then, lo, in the hall white raiment, as thither the damsels came, And amid the hands of the foremost was the woven gold aflame.

"O daughters of earls," said the Helper, "what tidings then do ye bear?

Is it grief in the merry morning, or joy or wonder or fear?"

Quoth the first: "It is grief for the foemen that the Masters of G.o.d-home would grieve."

Said the next: "'Tis a wonder of wonders, that the hearkening world shall believe."

"A fear of all fears," said the third, "for the sword is uplifted on men."

"A joy of all joys," said the fourth, "once come, it comes not again!"

"Lo, son," said the ancient Helper, "glad sit the earls and the lords!

Lookst thou not for a token of tidings to follow such-like words?"

Saith King Elf: "Great words of women! or great hath our dwelling become."

Said the women: "Words shall be greater, when all folk shall praise our home."

"What then hath betid," said King Elf, "do the high G.o.ds stand in our gate?"

"Nay," said they, "else were we silent, and they should be telling of fate."

"Is the bidding come," said the Helper, "that we wend the G.o.ds to see?"

"Many summers and winters," they said, "ye shall live on the earth, it may be."

Said a young man: "Will ye be telling that all we shall die no more?"

"Nay," they answered, "nay, who knoweth but the change may be hard at the door?"