She said: "Art thou Gunnar the Stranger? O art thou the man that I see?

Yea, verily I am Brynhild: what other is like unto me?

O men of the Earth behold me! hast thou seen, O labouring Earth, Such sorrow as my sorrow, or such evil as my birth?"

Then spake the Wildfire's Trampler that Gunnar's image bore: "O Brynhild, mighty of women, be thou glorious evermore!

Thou seest Gunnar the Niblung, as he sits mid the Niblung lords, And rides with the G.o.ds of battle in the fore-front of the swords.

Now therefore awaken to life! for this eve have I ridden thy Fire, When but few of the kings would outface it, to fulfil thine heart's desire.

And such love is the love of the kings, and such token have women to know That they wed with G.o.d's beloved, and that fair from their bed shall outgrow The stem of the world's desire, and the tree that shall not be abased, Till the day of the uttermost trial when the war-shield of Odin is raised.

So my word is the word of wooing, and I bid thee remember thine oath, That here in this hall fair-builded we twain may plight the troth; That here in the hall of thy waiting thou be made a wedded wife, And be called the Queen of the Niblungs, and awaken unto life."

Hard rang his voice in the hall, and a while she spake no word, And there stood the Image of Gunnar, and leaned on his bright blue sword: But at last she cried from the high-seat: "If I yet am alive and awake, I know no words for the speaking, nor what answer I may make."

She ceased and he answered nothing; and a hush on the hall there lay, And the moon slipped over the windows as he clomb the heavenly way; And no whit stirred the raiment of Brynhild: till she hearkened the Wooer's voice, As he said: "Thou art none of the women that swear and forswear and rejoice, Forgetting the sorrow of kings and the G.o.ds and the labouring earth.

Thou shalt wed with King Gunnar the Niblung and increase his worth with thy worth."

And again was there silence a while, and the War-King leaned on his sword In the shape of his foster-brother; then Brynhild took up the word: "Hail Gunnar, King of the Niblungs! tonight shalt thou lie by my side, For thou art the G.o.ds' beloved, and for thee was I shapen a bride: For thee, for the King, have I waited, and the waiting now is done; I shall bear Earth's kings on my bosom and nourish the Niblung's son.

Though women swear and forswear, and are glad no less in their life, Tonight shall I wed with the King-folk and be called King Gunnar's wife.

Come Gunnar, Lord of the Niblungs, and sit in my fathers' seat!

For for thee alone was it shapen, and the deed is due and meet."

Up she rose exceeding glorious, and it was as when in May The blossomed hawthorn stirreth with the dawning-wind of day; But the Wooer moved to meet her, and amid the golden place They met, and their garments mingled and face was close to face; And they turned again to the high-seat, and their very right hands met, And King Gunnar's bodily semblance beside her Brynhild set.

But over his knees and the mail-rings the high King laid his sword, And looked in the face of Brynhild and swore King Gunnar's word: He swore on the hand of Brynhild to be true to his wedded wife, And before all things to love her till all folk should praise her life.

Unmoved did Brynhild hearken, and in steady voice she swore To be true to Gunnar the Niblung while her life-days should endure; So she swore on the hand of the Wooer: and they two were all alone, And they sat a while in the high-seat when the wedding-troth was done, But no while looked each on the other, and hand fell down from hand, And no speech there was betwixt them that their hearts might understand.

At last spake the all-wise Brynhild: "Now night is beginning to fade, Fair-hung is the chamber of Kings, and the bridal bed is arrayed."

He rose and looked upon her: as the moon at her utmost height, So pale was the visage of Brynhild, and her eyes as cold and bright: Yet he stayed, nor stirred from the high-seat, but strove with the words for a s.p.a.ce, Till she took the hand of the King and led him down from his place, And forth from the hall she led him to the chamber wrought for her love; The fairest chamber of earth, gold-wrought below and above, And hung were the walls fair-builded with the G.o.ds and the kings of the earth And the deeds that were done aforetime, and the coming deeds of worth.

There they went in one bed together; but the foster-brother laid 'Twixt him and the body of Brynhild his bright blue battle-blade, And she looked and heeded it nothing; but e'en as the dead folk lie, With folded hands she lay there, and let the night go by: And as still lay that Image of Gunnar as the dead of life forlorn, And hand on hand he folded as he waited for the morn.

So oft in the moonlit minster your fathers may ye see By the side of the ancient mothers await the day to be.

Thus they lay as brother by sister--and e'en such had they been to behold, Had he borne the Volsung's semblance and the shape she knew of old.

Night hushed as the moon fell downward, and there came the leaden sleep And weighed down the head of the War-King, that he lay in slumber deep, And forgat today and tomorrow, and forgotten yesterday; Till he woke in the dawn and the daylight, and the sun on the gold floor lay, And Brynhild wakened beside him, and she lay with folded hands By the edges forged of Regin and the wonder of the lands, The Light that had lain in the Branstock, the hope of the Volsung Tree, The Sunderer, the Deliverer, the torch of days to be: Then he strove to remember the night and what deeds had come to pa.s.s, And what deeds he should do hereafter, and what manner of man he was; For there in the golden chamber lay the dark unwonted gear, And beside his cheek on the pillow were long locks of the raven hair: But at last he remembered the even and the deed he came to do, And he turned and spake to Brynhild as he rose from the bolster blue:

"I give thee thanks, fair woman, for the wedding-troth fulfilled; I have come where the Norns have led me, and done as the high G.o.ds willed: But now give we the gifts of the morning, for I needs must depart to my men And look on the Niblung children, and rule o'er the people again.

But I thank thee well for thy greeting, and thy glory that I have seen, For but little thereto are those tidings that folk have told of the Queen.

Henceforth with the Niblung people anew beginneth thy life, And fair days of peace await thee, and fair days of glorious strife.

And my heart shall be grieved at thy grief, and be glad of thy well-doing, And all men shall say thou hast wedded a true heart and a king."

So spake he in semblance of Gunnar, and from off his hand he drew A ring of the spoils of the Southland, a marvel seen but of few, And he set the ring on her finger, and she turned to her lord and spake: "I thank thee, King, for thy goodwill, and thy pledge of love I take.

Depart with my troth to thy people: but ere full ten days are o'er I shall come to the Sons of the Niblungs, and then shall we part no more Till the day of the change of our life-days, when Odin and Freyia shall call.

Lo, here, my gift of the morning! 'twas my dearest treasure of all; But thou art become its master, and for thee was it fore-ordained, Since thou art the man of mine oath and the best that the earth hath gained."

And lo, 'twas the Grief of Andvari, and the lack that made him loth, The last of the G.o.d-folk's ransom, the Ring of Hindfell's oath; Now on Sigurd's hand it shineth, and long he looketh thereon, But it gave him back no memories of the days that were bygone.

Then in most exceeding sorrow rose Sigurd from the bed, And again lay Brynhild silent as an image of the dead.

Then the King did on his war-gear and girt his sword to his side, And was e'en as an image of Gunnar when the Niblungs dight them to ride.

And she on the bed of the bridal, remembering hope that was, Lay still, and hearkened his footsteps from the echoing chamber pa.s.s.

So forth from the hall goes the Wooer, and slow and slow he goes, As a conquered king from his city fares forth to meet his foes; And he taketh the reins of Greyfell, nor yet will back him there, But afoot through the cold slaked ashes of yester-eve doth fare, With his eyes cast down to the earth; till he heareth the wind, and a cry, And raiseth a face brow-knitted and beholdeth men anigh, And beholdeth Hogni the King set grey on his coal-black steed, And beholdeth the image of Sigurd, the King in the golden weed: Then he stayeth and stareth astonished and setteth his hand to his sword; Till Hogni cries from his saddle, and his word is a kindly word:

"Hail, brother, and King of the people! hail, helper of my kin!

Again from the death and the trouble great gifts hast thou set thee to win For thy friends and the Niblung children, and hast crowned thine earthly fame, And increased thine exceeding glory and the sound of thy loved name."

Nought Sigurd spake in answer but looked straight forth with a frown, And stretched out his hand to Gunnar, as one that claimeth his own.

Then no word speaketh Gunnar, but taketh his hand in his hand, And they look in the eyes of each other, and a while in the desert they stand Till the might of Grimhild prevaileth, and the twain are as yester-morn; But sad was the golden Sigurd, though his eyes knew nought of scorn: And he spake: "It is finished, O Gunnar! and I will that our brotherhood May endure through the good and the evil as it sprang in the days of the good; But I bid thee look to the ending, that the deed I did yest'reve Bear nought for me to repent of, for thine heart of hearts to grieve.

Thou art troth-plight, O King of the Niblungs, to Brynhild Queen of the earth, She hath sworn thine heart to cherish and increase thy worth with her worth: She shall come to the house of Gunnar ere ten days are past and o'er; And thenceforth the life of Brynhild shall part from thy life no more, Till the doom of our kind shall speed you, and Odin and Freyia shall call, And ye bide the Day of the Battle, and the uttermost changing of all."

The praise and thanks they gave him! the words of love they spake!

The tale that the world should hear of, deeds done for Sigurd's sake!

They were lovely might you hear them: but they lack; for in very deed Their sound was clean forgotten in the day of Sigurd's need.

But as yet are those King-folk lovely, and no guile of heart they know, And, in troth and love rejoicing, by Sigurd's side they go: O'er heath and holt they hie them, o'er hill and dale they ride, Till they come to the Burg of the Niblungs and the war-gate of their pride; And there is Grimhild the wise-wife, and she sits and spins in the hall.

"Rejoice, O mother," saith Gunnar, "for thy guest hath holpen all And this eve shall thy sons be merry: but ere ten days are o'er Here cometh the Maid, and the Queen, the Wise, and the Chooser of war; So wrought is the will of the Niblungs and their blossoming boughs increase, And joyous strife shall we dwell in, and merry days of peace."

So that night in the hall of the ancient they hold high-tide again, And the G.o.ds on the Southland hangings smile out full fair and fain, And the song goes up of Sigurd, and the praise of his fame fulfilled, But his speech in the dead sleep lieth, and the words of his wisdom are chilled: And men say, the King is careful, for he thinks of the people's weal, And his heart is afraid for our trouble, lest the G.o.ds our joyance steal.

But that night, when the feast was over, to Gudrun Sigurd came, And she noted the ring on his finger, and she knew it was nowise the same As the ring he was wont to carry; so she bade him tell thereof: Then he turned unto her kindly, and his words were words of love; Nor his life nor his death he heeded, but told her last night's tale: Yea he drew forth the sword for his slaying, and whetted the edges of bale; For he took that Gold of Andvari, that Curse of the uttermost land, And he spake as a king that loveth, and set it on her hand; But her heart was exceeding joyous, as he kissed her sweet and soft, And bade her bear it for ever, that she might remember him oft When his hand from the world was departed and he sat in Odin's home.

But no one of his words she forgat when the latter days were come, When the earth was hard for her footsteps, and the heavens were darkling above And but e'en as a tale that is told were waxen the years of her love, Yea thereof, from the Gold of Andvari, the sparks of the waters wan, Sprang a flame of bitter trouble, and the death of many a man, And the quenching of the kindreds, and the blood of the broken troth, And the Grievous Need of the Niblungs and the Sorrow of Odin the Goth.

_How Brynhild was wedded to Gunnar the Niblung._

So wear the ten days over, and the morrow-morn is come, And the light-foot expectation flits through the Niblung home, And the girded hope is ready, and all people are astir, When the voice of the keen-eyed watchman from the topmost tower they hear: "Look forth from the Burg, O Niblungs, and the war-gate of renown!

For the wind is up in the morning, and the may-blooms fall adown, And the sun on the earth is shining, and the clouds are small and high, And here is a goodly people and an army drawing anigh."

Then horsed are the sons of the earl-folk, and their robes are glittering-gay, And they ride o'er the bridge of the river adown the dusty way, Till they come on a lovely people, and the maids of war they meet, Whose cloaks are blue and broidered, and their girded linen sweet; And they ride on the roan and the grey, and the dapple-grey and the red, And many a bloom of the may-tide on their crispy locks is shed: Fair, young are the sons of the earl-folk, and they laugh for love and glee, As the lovely-wristed maidens on the summer ways they see.

But lo, mid the sweet-faced fellows there cometh a golden wain, Like the wain of the sea be-shielded with the signs of the war-G.o.d's gain: Snow-white are its harnessed yoke-beasts, and its bench-cloths are of blue, Inwrought with the written wonders that ancient women knew; But nought therein there sitteth save a crowned queen alone, Swan-white on the dark-blue bench-cloths and the carven ivory throne; Abashed are sons of the earl-folk of their laughter and their glee, When the glory of Queen Brynhild on the summer ways they see.

But they hear the voice of the woman, and her speech is soft and kind: "Are ye the sons of the Niblungs, and the folk I came to find, O young men fair and lovely? So may your days be long, And grow in gain and glory, and fail of grief and wrong!"

Then they hailed her sweet and goodly, and back again they rode By the bridge o'er the rushing river to the gate of their abode; And high aloft, half-hearkened, rang the joyance of the horn, And the cry of the Ancient People from their walls of war was borne O'er the tilth of the plain, and the meadows, and the sheep-fed slopes that lead From the G.o.d-built wall of the mountains to the blossoms of the mead.

Then up in the wain stood Brynhild, and her voice was sweet as she said: "Is this the house of Gunnar, and the man I swore to wed?"

But she hearkened the cry from the gateway and the hollow of the door: "Yea this is the dwelling of Gunnar, and the house of the G.o.d of War: There is none of the world so mighty, be he outland King or Goth, Save Sigurd the mighty Volsung and the brother of his troth."

Then spake Brynhild and said: "Lo, a house of ancient Kings, Wrought for great deeds' fulfilment, and the birth of n.o.ble things!

Be the bloom of the earth upon it, and the hope of the heavens above!

May peace and joy abide there, and the full content of love!

And when our days are done with, and we lie alow in rest, May its lords returning homeward still deem they see the best!"

She spake with voice unfaltering, and the golden wain moved on, And all men deemed who heard her that great gifts their home had won.

So she pa.s.sed through the dusk of the doorway, and the cave of the war-fair folk, Wherein the echoing horse-hoofs as the sound of swords awoke, And the whispering wind of the may-tide from the cloudy wall smote back, And cried in the crown of the roof-arch of battle and the wrack; And the voice of maidens sounded as kings' cries in the day of the wrath, When the flame is on the threshold and the war-shields strew the path.

So fair in the sun of the forecourt doth Brynhild's wain shine bright, And the huge hall riseth before her, and the ernes cry out from its height, And there by the door of the Niblungs she sees huge warriors stand, Dark-clad, by the shoulders greater than the best of any land, And she knoweth the chiefs of the Niblungs, the dreaded dukes of war: But one in cloudy raiment stands a very midst the door, And ruddy and bright is his visage, and his black locks wave in the wind, And she knoweth the King of the Niblungs and the man she came to find: Then nought she lingered nor loitered, but stepped to the earth adown With right-hand reached to the War-G.o.d, the wearer of the crown; And she said: "I behold thee, Gunnar, the King of War that rode Through the waves of the Flickering Fire to the door of mine abode, To lie by my side in the even, and waken in the morn; And for this I needs must deem thee the best of all men born, The highest-hearted, the greatest, the staunchest of thy love: And that such the world yet holdeth, my heart is fain thereof: And for thee I deem was I fashioned, and for thee the oath I swore In the days of my glory and wisdom, ere the days of youth were o'er.

May the bloom of the earth be upon thee, and the hope of the heavens above, May the blessing of days be upon thee, and the full content of love!

Mayst thou see our children's children, and the crowned kin of kings!

May no hope from thine eyes be hidden of the day of better things!