"I know not, I know not," said Hogni, "but an unsure bridge is the sea, And such would I oft were builded betwixt my foeman and me.

I know a sorrow that sleepeth, and a wakened grief I know, And the torment of the mighty is a strong and fearful foe."

They spake no word before him; but he said: "I see the road; I see the ways we must journey--I have long cast off the load, The burden of men's bearing wherein they needs must bind All-eager hope unseeing with eyeless fear and blind: So today shall my riding be light; nor now, nor ever henceforth Shall men curse the sword of Hogni in the tale of the Niblung worth."

Therewith he went out from before them, and through chamber and hall he cried On the best of the Niblung earl-folk, for that now the Kings would ride: Soon are all men a.s.sembled, and their shields are fresh and bright, Nor gold their raiment lacketh; then the strong-necked steeds they dight, They dight the wain for Grimhild, and she goeth up therein, And the well-clad girded maidens have left the work they win, To sit by the Mother of Kings and make her glory great: Then to horse get the Kings of the Niblungs, and ride out by the ancient gate; And amidst its dusky hollows stir up the sound of swords: Forth then from the hallowed houses ride on those war-fain lords, Till they come to the dales deserted, and the woodland waste and drear; There the wood-wolves shrink before them, fast flee the forest-deer, And the stony wood-ways clatter as the Niblung host goes by.

Adown by the feet of the mountains that eve in sleep they lie, And arise on the morrow-morning and climb the mountain-pa.s.s, And the sunless hollow places, and the slopes that hate the gra.s.s.

So they cross the hither ridges and ride a stony bent Adown to the dale of Thora, and the country of content; By the homes of a simple people, by cot and close they go, Till they come to Thora's dwelling; but fair it stands and low Amidst of orchard-closes, and round about men win Fair work in field and garden, and sweet are the sounds therein.

Then down by the door leaps Gunnar, but awhile in the porch he stands To hearken the women's voices and the sound of their labouring hands; And amidst of their many murmurings a mightier voice he hears, The speech of his sister Gudrun: his inmost heart it stirs, And he entereth glad and smiling; bright, huge in the lowly hall He stands in the beam of sunlight where the dust-motes dance and fall.

On the high-seat sitteth Gudrun when she sees the man of war Come gleaming into the chamber; then she standeth up on the floor, And is great and goodly to look on mid the women of that place: But she knoweth the guise of the Niblungs, and she knoweth Gunnar's face, And at first she turneth to flee, as erewhile she fled away When she rose from the wound of Sigurd and loathed the light of day: But her father's heart rose in her, and the sleeping wrong awoke, And she made one step from the high-seat before Queen Thora's folk; And Gunnar moved from the threshold, and smiled as he drew anear, And Hogni went behind him and the Mother of Kings was there; And her maids and the Earls of the Niblungs stood gleaming there behind: Lo, the kin and the friends of Gudrun, a smiling folk and kind!

In the midst stood Gudrun before them, and cried aloud and said: "What! bear ye tidings of Sigurd? is he new come back from the dead?

O then will I hasten to greet him, and cherish my love and my lord, Though the murderous sons of Giuki have borne the tale abroad."

Dead-pale she stood before them, and no mouth answered again, And the summer morn grew heavy, and chill were the hearts of men And Thora's people trembled: there the simple people first Saw the horror of the King-folk, and mighty lives accurst.

All hushed stood the glorious Gunnar, but Hogni came before, And he said: "It is sooth, my sister, that thy sorrow hath been sore, That hath rent thee away from thy kindred and the folk that love thee most: But to double sorrow with hatred is to cast all after the lost, And to die and to rest not in death, and to loathe and linger the end: Now today do we come to this dwelling thy grief and thy woe to amend, And to give thee the gift that we may; for without thy love and thy peace Doth our life and our glory sicken, though its outward show increase.

Lo, we bear thee rule and dominion, and hope and the glory of life, For King Atli wooeth thee, Gudrun, for his queen and his wedded wife."

Still she stood as a carven image, as a stone of ancient days When the sun is bright about it and the wind sweeps low o'er the ways.

All hushed was Gunnar the Niblung and knew not how to beseech, But still Hogni faced his sister, nor faltered aught in his speech:

"Thou art young," he said, "O sister; thou wert called a mighty queen When the nurses first upraised thee and first thy body was seen: If thou bide with these toiling women when a great king bids thee to wife, Then first is it seen of the Niblungs that they cringe and cower from strife: By the deeds of the Golden Sigurd I charge thee hinder us not, When the Norns have dight the way-beasts, and our hearts for the journey are hot!"

She answered not with speaking, she questioned not with eyes, Nought did her deadly anger to her brow unknitted rise, Then forth came Grimhild the Mighty, and the cup was in her hand, Wherein with the sea's dread mingled was the might and the blood of the land; And the guile of the summer serpent and the herb of the sunless dale Were blent for the deadening slumber that forgetteth joy and bale; And cold words of ancient wisdom that the very G.o.ds would dim Were the foresh.o.r.es of that wine-sea and the cliffs that girt its rim: Therewith in the hall stood Grimhild, and cried aloud and spake:

"It was I that bore thee, daughter; I laboured once for thy sake, I groaned to bear thee a queen, I sickened sore for thy fame: By me and my womb I command thee that thou worship the Niblung name, And take the gift we would give thee, and be wed to a king of the earth, And rejoice in kings hereafter when thy sons are come to the birth: Lo, then as thou lookest upon them, and thinkest of glory to come, It shall be as if Sigmund were living, and Sigurd sat in thine home."

Nought answered the white-armed Gudrun, no master of masters might see The hate in her soul swift-growing or the rage of her misery.

But great waxed the wrath of Grimhild; there huge in the hall she stood, And her fathers' might stirred in her, and the well-spring of her blood; And she cried out blind with anger: "Though all we die on one day, Though we live for ever in sorrow, yet shalt thou be given away To Atli the King of the mighty, high lord of the Eastland gold: Drink now, that my love and my wisdom may thaw thine heart grown cold; And take those great gifts of our giving, the cities long builded for thee, The wine-burgs digged for thy pleasure, the fateful wealthy lea, The darkling woods of the deer, the courts of mighty lords, The hosts of men war-shielded, the groves of fallow swords!"

Nought changed the eyes of Gudrun, but she reached her hand to the cup And drank before her kindred, and the blood from her heart went up, And was blent with the guile of the serpent, and many a thing she forgat, But never the day of her sorrow, and of how o'er Sigurd she sat: But the land's-folk looked on the Niblungs as the daughter of Giuki drank, And before their wrath they trembled, and before their joy they shrank.

Then yet again spake Gudrun, and they that stood thereby, --O how their hearts were heavy as though the sun should die!

She said: "O Kings of my kindred, I shall nought gainsay your will; With the fruit of your fond desires your hearts shall ye fulfil; Bear me back to the Burg of the Niblungs, and the house of my fathers of old, That the men of King Atli may take me with the tokens and treasure of gold."

Then the cry goeth up from the Niblungs, and no while in that house they abide; Forth fare the Cloudy People and the stony slopes they ride, And the sun is bright behind them o'er queen Thora's lowly dale, Where the sound of their speech abideth as an ancient woeful tale.

But the Niblungs ride the forest and the dwellings of the deer, And the wife of the Golden Sigurd to the ancient Burg they bear; She speaks not of good nor of evil, and no change in her face men see, Nay, not when the Niblung towers rise up above the lea; Nay, not when they come to the gateway, and that builded gloom again Swallows up the steed and its rider, and sword, and gilded wain; Nay, not when to earth she steppeth, and her feet again pa.s.s o'er The threshold of the Niblungs and the holy house of yore; Nay, not when alone she lieth in the chamber, on the bed Where she lay, a little maiden, ere her hope was born and dead: Yea, how fair is her face on the morrow, how it winneth all people's praise, As the moon that forebodeth nothing on the night of the last of days.

Nought tarry the lords of King Atli, and the Niblungs stay them nought; The doors of the treasure are opened and the gold and the tokens are brought; And all men in the hall are a.s.sembled, where Gunnar speaketh and saith:

"Go hence, O men of King Atli, and tell of our love and our faith To thy master, the mighty of men: go take him this treasure of gold, And show him how we have hearkened, and nought from his heart may withhold, Nay, not our best and our dearest, nay, not the crown of our worth, Our sister, the white-armed Gudrun, the wise and the Queen of the earth."

Then arose the cry of the people, and that Duke of Atli spake: "We bless thee, O mighty Gunnar, for the Eastland Atli's sake, And his kingdom as thy kingdom, and his men as thy men shall be, And the gold in Atli's treasure is stored and gathered for thee."

So spake he amid their shouting, and the Queen from the high-seat stept, And Gudrun stood with the strangers, and there were women who wept, But she wept no more than she smiled, nor spake, nor turned again To that place in the ancient dwelling where once lay Sigurd slain.

But she mounteth the wain all golden, and the Earls to the saddle leap, And forth they ride in the morning, and adown the builded steep That hath no name for Gudrun, save the place where Sigurd fell, The strong abode of treason, the house where murderers dwell.

Three days they ride the lealand till they come to the side of the sea: Ten days they sail the sea-flood to the land where they would be: Three days they ride the mirk-wood to the peopled country-side, Three days through a land of cities and plenteous tilth they ride; On the fourth the Burg of Atli o'er the meadows riseth up, And the houses of his dwelling fine-wrought as a silver cup.

Far off in a bight of the mountains by the inner sea it stands, Turned away from the house of Gudrun, and her kindred and their lands.

Then to right and to left looked Gudrun and beheld the outland folk, With no love nor hate nor wonder, as out from the teeth she spoke To that unfamiliar people that had seen not Sigurd's face.

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 shines 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 worship 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 accomplishing 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 fashioned 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."