But now when the kings were departed, from the King's house Hiordis went, And before men joined the battle she came to a woody bent, Where she lay with one of her maidens the death and the deeds to behold.

In the noon sun shone King Sigmund as an image all of gold, And he stood before the foremost and the banner of his fame, And many a thing he remembered, and he called on each earl by his name To do well for the house of the Volsungs, and the ages yet unborn.

Then he tossed up the sword of the Branstock, and blew on his father's horn, Dread of so many a battle, doom-song of so many a man.

Then all the earth seemed moving as the hosts of Lyngi ran On the Volsung men and the Isle-folk like wolves upon the prey; But sore was their labour and toil ere the end of their harvesting day.

On went the Volsung banners, and on went Sigmund before, And his sword was the flail of the tiller on the wheat of the wheat-thrashing floor, And his shield was rent from his arm, and his helm was sheared from his head: But who may draw nigh him to smite for the heap and the rampart of dead?

White went his hair on the wind like the ragged drift of the cloud, And his dust-driven, blood-beaten harness was the death-storm's angry shroud, When the summer sun is departing in the first of the night of wrack; And his sword was the cleaving lightning, that smites and is hurried aback Ere the hand may rise against it; and his voice was the following thunder.

Then cold grew the battle before him, dead-chilled with the fear and the wonder: For again in his ancient eyes the light of victory gleamed; From his mouth grown tuneful and sweet the song of his kindred streamed; And no more was he worn and weary, and no more his life seemed spent: And with all the hope of his childhood was his wrath of battle blent; And he thought: A little further, and the river of strife is pa.s.sed, And I shall sit triumphant the king of the world at last.

But lo, through the hedge of the war-shafts a mighty man there came, One-eyed and seeming ancient, but his visage shone like flame: Gleaming-grey was his kirtle, and his hood was cloudy blue; And he bore a mighty twi-bill, as he waded the fight-sheaves through, And stood face to face with Sigmund, and upheaved the bill to smite.

Once more round the head of the Volsung fierce glittered the Branstock's light, The sword that came from Odin; and Sigmund's cry once more Rang out to the very heavens above the din of war.

Then clashed the meeting edges with Sigmund's latest stroke, And in shivering shards fell earthward that fear of worldly folk.

But changed were the eyes of Sigmund, and the war-wrath left his face; For that grey-clad mighty helper was gone, and in his place Drave on the unbroken spear-wood 'gainst the Volsung's empty hands: And there they smote down Sigmund, the wonder of all lands, On the foemen, on the death-heap his deeds had piled that day.

Ill hour for Sigmund's fellows! they fall like the seeded hay Before the brown scythes' sweeping, and there the Isle-king fell In the fore-front of his battle, wherein he wrought right well, And soon they were nought but foemen who stand upon their feet On the isle-strand by the ocean where the gra.s.s and the sea-sand meet.

And now hath the conquering War-king another deed to do, And he saith: "Who now gainsayeth King Lyngi come to woo, The lord and the overcomer and the bane of the Volsung kin?"

So he fares to the Isle-king's dwelling a wife of the kings to win; And the host is gathered together, and they leave the field of the dead; And round as a targe of the Goth-folk the moon ariseth red.

And so when the last is departed, and she deems they will come not aback, Fares Hiordis forth from the thicket to the field of the fateful wrack, And half-dead was her heart for sorrow as she waded the swathes of the sword.

Not far did she search the death-field ere she found her king and lord On the heap that his glaive had fashioned: not yet was his spirit past, Though his hurts were many and grievous, and his life-blood ebbing fast; And glad were his eyes and open as her wan face over him hung, And he spake: "Thou art sick with sorrow, and I would thou wert not so young; Yet as my days pa.s.sed shall thine pa.s.s; and a short while now it seems Since my hand first gripped the sword-hilt, and my glory was but in dreams."

She said: "Thou livest, thou livest! the leeches shall heal thee still."

"Nay," said he, "my heart hath hearkened to Odin's bidding and will; For today have mine eyes beheld him: nay, he needed not to speak: Forsooth I knew of his message and the thing he came to seek.

And now do I live but to tell thee of the days that are yet to come: And perchance to solace thy sorrow; and then will I get me home To my kin that are gone before me. Lo, yonder where I stood The shards of a glaive of battle that was once the best of the good: Take them and keep them surely. I have lived no empty days; The Norns were my nursing mothers; I have won the people's praise.

When the G.o.ds for one deed asked me I ever gave them twain; Spendthrift of glory I was, and great was my life-days' gain; Now these shards have been my fellow in the work the G.o.ds would have, But today hath Odin taken the gift that once he gave.

I have wrought for the Volsungs truly, and yet have I known full well That a better one than I am shall bear the tale to tell: And for him shall these shards be smithied; and he shall be my son To remember what I have forgotten and to do what I left undone.

Under thy girdle he lieth, and how shall I say unto thee, Unto thee, the wise of women, to cherish him heedfully.

Now, wife, put by thy sorrow for the little day we have had; For in sooth I deem thou weepest: The days have been fair and glad: And our valour and wisdom have met, and thou knowest they shall not die: Sweet and good were the days, nor yet to the Fates did we cry For a little longer yet, and a little longer to live: But we took, we twain in our meeting, all gifts that they had to give: Our wisdom and valour have kissed, and thine eyes shall see the fruit, And the joy for his days that shall be hath pierced mine heart to the root.

Grieve not for me; for thou weepest that thou canst not see my face How its beauty is not departed, nor the hope of mine eyes grown base.

Indeed I am waxen weary; but who heedeth weariness That hath been day-long on the mountain in the winter weather's stress, And now stands in the lighted doorway and seeth the king draw nigh, And heareth men dighting the banquet, and the bed wherein he shall lie?"

Then failed the voice of Sigmund; but so mighty was the man, That a long while yet he lingered till the dusky night grew wan, And she sat and sorrowed o'er him, but no more a word he spake.

Then a long way over the sea-flood the day began to break; And when the sun was arisen a little he turned his head Till the low beams bathed his eyen, and there lay Sigmund dead.

And the sun rose up on the earth; but where was the Volsung kin And the folk that the G.o.ds had begotten the praise of all people to win?

_How King Sigmund the Volsung was laid in mound on the sea-side of the Isle-realm._

Now Hiordis looked from the dead, and her eyes strayed down to the sea, And a shielded ship she saw, and a war-dight company, Who beached the ship for the landing: so swift she fled away, And once more to the depth of the thicket, wherein her handmaid lay: And she said: "I have left my lord, and my lord is dead and gone, And he gave me a charge full heavy, and here are we twain alone, And earls from the sea are landing: give me thy blue attire, And take my purple and gold and my crown of the sea-flood's fire, And be thou the wife of King Volsung when men of our names shall ask, And I will be the handmaid: now I bid thee to this task, And I pray thee not to fail me, because of thy faith and truth, And because I have ever loved thee, and thy mother fostered my youth.

Yea, because my womb is wealthy with a gift for the days to be.

Now do this deed for mine asking and the tale shall be told of thee."

So the other nought gainsaith it and they shift their raiment there: But well-spoken was the maiden, and a woman tall and fair.

Now the lord of those new-coming men was a king and the son of a king, King Elf the son of the Helper, and he sailed from war-faring And drew anigh to the Isle-realm and sailed along the strand; For the shipmen needed water and fain would go a-land; And King Elf stood hard by the tiller while the world was yet a-cold: Then the red sun lit the dawning, and they looked, and lo, behold!

The wrack of a mighty battle, and heaps of the shielded dead, And a woman alive amidst them, a queen with crowned head, And her eyes strayed down to the sea-strand, and she saw that weaponed folk, And turned and fled to the thicket: then the lord of the shipmen spoke: "Lo, here shall we lack for water, for the brooks with blood shall run, Yet wend we ash.o.r.e to behold it and to wot of the deeds late done."

So they turned their faces to Sigmund, and waded the swathes of the sword.

"O, look ye long," said the Sea-king, "for here lieth a mighty lord: And all these are the deeds of his war-flame, yet hardy hearts, be sure, That they once durst look in his face or the wrath of his eyen endure; Though his lips be glad and smiling as a G.o.d that dreameth of mirth.

Would G.o.d I were one of his kindred, for none such are left upon earth.

Now fare we into the thicket, for thereto is the woman fled, And belike she shall tell us the story of this field of the mighty dead."

So they wend and find the women, and bespeak them kind and fair: Then spake the gold-crowned handmaid: "Of the Isle-king's house we were, And I am the Queen called Hiordis; and the man that lies on the field Was mine own lord Sigmund the Volsung, the mightiest under shield."

Then all amazed were the sea-folk when they hearkened to that word, And great and heavy tidings they deem their ears have heard: But again spake out the Sea-king: "And this blue-clad one beside, So pale, and as tall as a G.o.ddess, and white and lovely eyed?"

"In sooth and in troth," said the woman, "my serving-maid is this; She hath wept long over the battle, and sore afraid she is."

Now the king looks hard upon her, but he saith no word thereto, And down again to the death-field with the women-folk they go.

There they set their hands to the labour, and amidst the deadly mead They raise a mound for Sigmund, a mighty house indeed; And therein they set that folk-king, and goodly was his throne, And dight with gold and scarlet: and the walls of the house were done With the cloven shields of the foemen, and banners borne to field; But none might find his war-helm or the splinters of his shield, And clenched and fast was his right hand, but no sword therein he had: For Hiordis spake to the shipmen: "Our lord and master bade That the shards of his glaive of battle should go with our lady the Queen: And by them that lie a-dying a many things are seen."

So there lies Sigmund the Volsung, and far away, forlorn Are the blossomed boughs of the Branstock, and the house where he was born.

To what end was wrought that roof-ridge, and the rings of the silver door, And the fair-carved golden high-seat, and the many-pictured floor Worn down by the feet of the Volsungs? or the hangings of delight, Or the marvel of its harp-strings, or the Dwarf-wrought beakers bright?

Then the G.o.ds have fashioned a folk who have fashioned a house in vain; It is nought, and for nought they battled, and nought was their joy and their pain, Lo, the n.o.ble oak of the forest with his feet in the flowers and gra.s.s, How the winds that bear the summer o'er its topmost branches pa.s.s, And the wood-deer dwell beneath it, and the fowl in its fair twigs sing, And there it stands in the forest, an exceeding glorious thing: Then come the axes of men, and low it lies on the ground, And the crane comes out of the southland, and its nest is nowhere found, And bare and shorn of its blossoms is the house of the deer of the wood.

But the tree is a golden dragon; and fair it floats on the flood, And beareth the kings and the earl-folk, and is shield-hung all without: And it seeth the blaze of the beacons, and heareth the war-G.o.d's shout.

There are tidings wherever it cometh, and the tale of its time shall be told A dear name it hath got like a king, and a fame that groweth not old.

Lo, such is the Volsung dwelling; lo, such is the deed he hath wrought Who laboured all his life-days, and had rest but little or nought, Who died in the broken battle; who lies with swordless hand In the realm that the foe hath conquered on the edge of a stranger-land.

_How Queen Hiordis is known; and how she abideth in the house of Elf the son of the Helper._

Now asketh the king of those women where now in the world they will go, And Hiordis speaks for the twain; "This is now but a land of the foe And our lady and Queen beseecheth that unto thine house we wend And that there thou serve her kingly that her woes may have an end."

Fain then was the heart of the folk-king, and he bade aboard forth-right.

And they hoist the sails to the wind and sail by day and by night Till they come to a land of the people, and a goodly land it is Where folk may dwell unharried and win abundant bliss, The land of King Elf and the Helper; and there he bids them abide In his house that is goodly shapen, and wrought full high and wide: And he biddeth the Queen be merry, and set aside her woe, And he doth by them better and better, as day on day doth go.

Now there was the mother of Elf, and a woman wise was she, And she spake to her son of a morning: "I have noted them heedfully.

Those women thou broughtst from the outlands, and fain now would I wot Why the worser of the women the goodlier gear hath got."

He said: "She hath named her Hiordis, the wife of the mightiest king, E'en Sigmund the son of Volsung with whose name the world doth ring."

Then the old queen laughed and answered: "Is it not so, my son.

That the handmaid still gave counsel when aught of deeds was done?"

He said: "Yea, she spake mostly; and her words were exceeding wise.

And measureless sweet I deem her, and dear she is to mine eyes."

But she said: "Do after my counsel, and win thee a goodly queen: Speak ye to the twain unwary, and the truth shall soon be seen, And again shall they shift their raiment, if I am aught but a fool."

He said: "Thou sayst well, mother, and settest me well to school."

So he spake on a day to the women, and said to the gold-clad one: "How wottest thou in the winter of the coming of the sun When yet the world is darkling?"

She said: "In the days of my youth I dwelt in the house of my father, and fair was the tide forsooth, And ever I woke at the dawning, for folk betimes must stir, Be the meadows bright or darksome; and I drank of the whey-tub there As much as the heart desired; and now, though changed be the days, I wake athirst in the dawning, because of my wonted ways."

Then laughed King Elf and answered: "A fashion strange enow, That the feet of the fair queen's-daughter must forth to follow the plough, Be the acres bright or darkling! But thou with the eyes of grey.

What sign hast thou to tell thee, that the night wears into day When the heavens are mirk as the midnight?"