Sigurd the Volsung 11Book II · Sigurd getteth to him the horse that is called Greyfell
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Literature · Fantasy
Sigurd the Volsung 11
Book II · Sigurd getteth to him the horse that is called Greyfell
MorrisEnglish
Now waxeth the son of Sigmund in might and goodliness, And soft the days win over, and all men his beauty bless. But amidst the summer season was the Isle-queen Hiordis wed To King Elf the son of the Helper, and fair their life-days sped. Peace lay on the land for ever, and the fields gave good increase, And there was Sigurd waxing mid the plenty and the peace.
Now hath the child grown greater, and is keen and eager of wit And full of understanding, and oft hath he joy to sit Amid talk of weighty matters when the wise men meet for speech; And joyous he is moreover and blithe and kind with each. But Regin the wise craftsmaster heedeth the youngling well, And before the Kings he cometh, and saith such words to tell.
"I have fostered thy youth, King Elf, and thine O Helper of men, And ye wot that such a master no king shall see again; And now would I foster Sigurd; for, though he be none of thy blood, Mine heart of his days that shall be speaketh abundant good."
Then spake the Helper of men-folk: "Yea, do herein thy will: For thou art the Master of Masters, and hast learned me all my skill: But think how bright is this youngling, and thy guile from him withhold; For this craft of thine hath shown me that thy heart is grim and cold, Though three men's lives thrice over thy wisdom might not learn; And I love this son of Sigmund, and mine heart to him doth yearn."
Then Regin laughed, and answered: "I doled out cunning to thee; But nought with him will I measure: yet no cold-heart shall he be, Nor grim, nor evil-natured: for whate'er my will might frame, Gone forth is the word of the Norns, that abideth ever the same. And now, despite my cunning, how deem ye I shall die?"
And they said he would live as he listed, and at last in peace should lie When he listed to live no longer; so mighty and wise he was.
But again he laughed and answered: "One day it shall come to pass, That a beardless youth shall slay me: I know the fateful doom; But nought may I withstand it, as it heaves up dim through the gloom."
So is Sigurd now with Regin, and he learns him many things; Yea, all save the craft of battle, that men learned the sons of kings: The smithying sword and war-coat; the carving runes aright; The tongues of many countries, and soft speech for men's delight; The dealing with the harp-strings, and the winding ways of song. So wise of heart waxed Sigurd, and of body wondrous strong: And he chased the deer of the forest, and many a wood-wolf slew, And many a bull of the mountains: and the desert dales he knew, And the heaths that the wind sweeps over; and seaward would he fare, Far out from the outer skerries, and alone the sea-wights dare.
On a day he sat with Regin amidst the unfashioned gold, And the silver grey from the furnace; and Regin spake and told Sweet tales of the days that have been, and the Kings of the bold and wise; Till the lad's heart swelled with longing and lit his sunbright eyes.
Then Regin looked upon him: "Thou too shalt one day ride As the Volsung Kings went faring through the noble world and wide. For this land is nought and narrow, and Kings of the carles are these. And their earls are acre-biders, and their hearts are dull with peace."
But Sigurd knit his brows, and in wrathful wise he said: "Ill words of those thou speakest that my youth have cherished. And the friends that have made me merry, and the land that is fair and good."
Then Regin laughed and answered: "Nay, well I see by thy mood That wide wilt thou ride in the world like thy kin of the earlier days: And wilt thou be wroth with thy master that he longs for thy winning the praise? And now if the sooth thou sayest, that these King-folk cherish thee well, Then let them give thee a gift whereof the world shall tell: Yea hearken to this my counsel, and crave for a battle-steed."
Yet wroth was the lad and answered: "I have many a horse to my need, And all that the heart desireth, and what wouldst thou wish me more?"
Then Regin answered and said: "Thy kin of the Kings of yore Were the noblest men of men-folk; and their hearts would never rest Whatso of good they had gotten, if their hands held not the best. Now do thou after my counsel, and crave of thy fosterers here That thou choose of the horses of Gripir whichso thine heart holds dear."
He spake and his harp was with him, and he smote the strings full sweet, And sang of the host of the Valkyrs, how they ride the battle to meet, And the dew from the dear manes drippeth as they ride in the first of the sun, And the tree-boughs open to meet it when the wind of the dawning is done: And the deep dales drink its sweetness and spring into blossoming grass, And the earth groweth fruitful of men, and bringeth their glory to pass.
Then the wrath ran off from Sigurd, and he left the smithying stead While the song yet rang in the doorway: and that eve to the Kings he said: "Will ye do so much for mine asking as to give me a horse to my will? For belike the days shall come, that shall all my heart fulfill, And teach me the deeds of a king."
Then answered King Elf and spake:
"The stalls of the Kings are before thee to set aside or to take,
And nought we begrudge thee the best."
Yet answered Sigurd again; For his heart of the mountains aloft and the windy drift was fain: "Fair seats for the knees of Kings! but now do I ask for a gift Such as all the world shall be praising, the best of the strong and the swift Ye shall give me a token for Gripir, and bid him to let me choose From out of the noble stud-beasts that run in his meadow loose. But if overmuch I have asked you, forget this prayer of mine, And deem the word unspoken, and get ye to the wine."
Then smiled King Elf, and answered: "A long way wilt thou ride, To where unpeace and troubles and the griefs of the soul abide, Yea unto the death at the last: yet surely shalt thou win The praise of many a people: so have thy way herein. Forsooth no more may we hold thee than the hazel copse may hold The sun of the early dawning, that turneth it all unto gold."
Then sweetly Sigurd thanked them; and through the night he lay Mid dreams of many a matter till the dawn was on the way; Then he shook the sleep from off him, and that dwelling of Kings he left And wended his ways unto Gripir. On a crag from the mountain reft Was the house of the old King builded; and a mighty house it was, Though few were the sons of men that over its threshold would pass: But the wild ernes cried about it, and the vultures toward it flew, And the winds from the heart of the mountains searched every chamber through, And about were meads wide-spreading; and many a beast thereon, Yea some that are men-folk's terror, their sport and pasture won.
So into the hall went Sigurd; and amidst was Gripir set In a chair of the sea-beast's tooth; and his sweeping beard nigh met The floor that was green as the ocean, and his gown was of mountain-gold, And the kingly staff in his hand was knobbed with the crystal cold.
Now the first of the twain spake Gripir: "Hail King with the eyen bright! Nought needest thou show the token, for I know of thy life and thy light. And no need to tell of thy message; it was wafted here on the wind, That thou wouldst be coming to-day a horse in my meadow to find: And strong must he be for the bearing of those deeds of thine that shall be. Now choose thou of all the way-wearers that are running loose in my lea, And be glad as thine heart will have thee and the fate that leadeth thee on, And I bid thee again come hither when the sword of worth is won, And thy loins are girt for thy going on the road that before thee lies; For a glimmering over its darkness is come before mine eyes."
Then again gat Sigurd outward, and adown the steep he ran And unto the horse-fed meadow: but lo, a grey-clad man, One-eyed and seeming-ancient, there met him by the way: And he spake: "Thou hastest, Sigurd; yet tarry till I say A word that shall well bestead thee: for I know of these mountains well And all the lea of Gripir, and the beasts that thereon dwell."
"Wouldst thou have red gold for thy tidings? art thou Gripir's horse-herd then? Nay sure, for thy face is shining like the battle-eager men My master Regin tells of: and I love thy cloud-grey gown. And thy visage gleams above it like a thing my dreams have known."
"Nay whiles have I heeded the horse-kind," then spake that elder of days, "And sooth do the sages say, when the beasts of my breeding they praise. There is one thereof in the meadow, and, wouldst thou cull him out, Thou shalt follow an elder's counsel, who hath brought strange things about, Who hath known thy father aforetime, and other kings of thy kin."
So Sigurd said, "I am ready; and what is the deed to win?"
He said: "We shall drive the horses adown to the water-side, That cometh forth from the mountains, and note what next shall betide."
Then the twain sped on together, and they drave the horses on Till they came to a rushing river, a water wide and wan; And the white mews hovered o'er it; but none might hear their cry For the rush and the rattle of waters, as the downlong flood swept by. So the whole herd took the river and strove the stream to stem, And many a brave steed was there; but the flood o'ermastered them: And some, it swept them down-ward, and some won back to bank, Some, caught by the net of the eddies, in the swirling hubbub sank; But one of all swam over, and they saw his mane of grey Toss over the flowery meadows, a bright thing far away: Wide then he wheeled about them, then took the stream again And with the waves' white horses mingled his cloudy mane.
Then spake the elder of days: "Hearken now, Sigurd, and hear; Time was when I gave thy father a gift thou shalt yet deem dear, And this horse is a gift of my giving:--heed nought where thou mayst ride: For I have seen thy fathers in a shining house abide, And on earth they thought of its threshold, and the gifts I had to give; Nor prayed for a little longer, and a little longer to live."
Then forth he strode to the mountains, and fain was Sigurd now To ask him many a matter: but dim did his bright shape grow, As a man from the litten doorway fades into the dusk of night; And the sun in the high-noon shone, and the world was exceeding bright.
So Sigurd turned to the river and stood by the wave-wet strand, And the grey horse swims to his feet and lightly leaps aland, And the youngling looks upon him, and deems none beside him good. And indeed, as tells the story, he was come of Sleipnir's blood, The tireless horse of Odin: cloud-grey he was of hue, And it seemed as Sigurd backed him that Sigmund's son he knew, So glad he went beneath him. Then the youngling's song arose As he brushed through the noon-tide blossoms of Gripir's mighty close, Then he singeth the song of Greyfell, the horse that Odin gave, Who swam through the sweeping river, and back through the toppling wave.
Regin telleth Sigurd of his kindred, and of the Gold that was accursed from ancient days.
Now yet the days pass over, and more than words may tell Grows Sigurd strong and lovely, and all children love him well. But oft he looks on the mountains and many a time is fain To know of what lies beyond them, and learn of the wide world's gain. And he saith: "I dwell in a land that is ruled by none of my blood; And my mother's sons are waxing, and fair kings shall they be and good; And their servant or their betrayer--not one of these will I be. Yet needs must I wait for a little till Odin calls for me."
Now again it happed on a day that he sat in Regin's hall And hearkened many tidings of what had chanced to fall, And of kings that sought their kingdoms o'er many a waste and wild, And at last saith the crafty master: "Thou art King Sigmund's child: Wilt thou wait till these kings of the carles shall die in a little land, Or wilt thou serve their sons and carry the cup to their hand; Or abide in vain for the day that never shall come about, When their banners shall dance in the wind and shake to the war-gods' shout?"
Then Sigurd answered and said: "Nought such do I look to be. But thou, a deedless man, too much thou eggest me: And these folk are good and trusty, and the land is lovely and sweet, And in rest and in peace it lieth as the floor of Odin's feet: Yet I know that the world is wide, and filled with deeds unwrought; And for e'en such work was I fashioned, lest the songcraft come to nought, When the harps of God-home tinkle, and the Gods are at stretch to hearken: Lest the hosts of the Gods be scanty when their day hath begun to darken, When the bonds of the Wolf wax thin, and Loki fretteth his chain. And sure for the house of my fathers full oft my heart is fain, And meseemeth I hear them talking of the day when I shall come, And of all the burden of deeds, that my hand shall bear them home. And so when the deed is ready, nowise the man shall lack: But the wary foot is the surest, and the hasty oft turns back."
Then answered Regin the guileful: "The deed is ready to hand, Yet holding my peace is the best, for well thou lovest the land; And thou lovest thy life moreover, and the peace of thy youthful days, And why should the full-fed feaster his hand to the rye-bread raise? Yet they say that Sigmund begat thee and he looked to fashion a man. Fear nought; he lieth quiet in his mound by the sea-waves wan."
So shone the eyes of Sigurd, that the shield against him hung Cast back their light as the sunbeams; but his voice to the roof-tree rung: "Tell me, thou Master of Masters, what deed is the deed I shall do? Nor mock thou the son of Sigmund lest the day of his birth thou rue."
Then answered the Master of Sleight: "The deed is the righting of wrong, And the quelling a bale and a sorrow that the world hath endured o'erlong, And the winning a treasure untold, that shall make thee more than the kings; Thereof is the Helm of Aweing, the wonder of earthly things, And thereof is its very fellow, the War-coat all of gold, That has not its like in the heavens, nor has earth of its fellow told."
Then answered Sigurd the Volsung: "How long hereof hast thou known? And what unto thee is this treasure, that thou seemest to give as thine own?"
"Alas!" quoth the smithying master, "it is mine, yet none of mine, Since my heart herein avails not, and my hand is frail and fine-- It is long since I first came hither to seek a man for my need; For I saw by a glimmering light that hence would spring the deed, And many a deed of the world: but the generations passed, And the first of the days was as near to the end that I sought as the last; Till I looked on thine eyes in the cradle: and now I deem through thee, That the end of my days of waiting, and the end of my woes shall be."
Then Sigurd awhile was silent; but at last he answered and said: "Thou shalt have thy will and the treasure, and shalt take the curse on thine head If a curse the gold enwrappeth: but the deed will I surely do, For today the dreams of my childhood hath bloomed in my heart anew: And I long to look on the world and the glory of the earth And to deal in the dealings of men, and garner the harvest of worth. But tell me, thou Master of Masters, where lieth this measureless wealth; Is it guarded by swords of the earl-folk, or kept by cunning and stealth? Is it over the main sea's darkness, or beyond the mountain wall? Or e'en in these peaceful acres anigh to the hands of all?"
Then Regin answered sweetly: "Hereof must a tale be told: Bide sitting, thou son of Sigmund, on the heap of unwrought gold, And hearken of wondrous matters, and of things unheard, unsaid, And deeds of my beholding ere the first of Kings was made.
"And first ye shall know of a sooth, that I never was born of the race Which the masters of God-home have made to cover the fair earth's face; But I come of the Dwarfs departed; and fair was the earth whileome Ere the short-lived thralls of the Gods amidst its dales were come:-- And how were we worse than the Gods, though maybe we lived not as long? Yet no weight of memory maimed us; nor aught we knew of wrong. What felt our souls of shaming, what knew our hearts of love? We did and undid at pleasure, and repented nought thereof. --Yea we were exceeding mighty--bear with me yet, my son; For whiles can I scarcely think it that our days are wholly done. And trust not thy life in my hands in the day when most I seem Like the Dwarfs that are long departed, and most of my kindred I dream.
"So as we dwelt came tidings that the Gods amongst us were, And the people came from Asgard: then rose up hope and fear, And strange shapes of things went flitting betwixt the night and the eve, And our sons waxed wild and wrathful, and our daughters learned to grieve. Then we fell to the working of metal, and the deeps of the earth would know, And we dealt with venom and leechcraft, and we fashioned spear and bow, And we set the ribs to the oak-keel, and looked on the landless sea; And the world began to be such-like as the Gods would have it to be. In the womb of the woeful earth had they quickened the grief and the gold.
"It was Reidmar the Ancient begat me; and now was he waxen old, And a covetous man and a king; and he bade, and I built him a hall, And a golden glorious house; and thereto his sons did he call, And he bade them be evil and wise, that his will through them might be wrought. Then he gave unto Fafnir my brother the soul that feareth nought, And the brow of the hardened iron, and the hand that may never fail, And the greedy heart of a king, and the ear that hears no wail.
"But next unto Otter my brother he gave the snare and the net, And the longing to wend through the wild-wood, and wade the highways wet: And the foot that never resteth, while aught be left alive That hath cunning to match man's cunning or might with his might to strive.
"And to me, the least and the youngest, what gift for the slaying of ease? Save the grief that remembers the past, and the fear that the future sees; And the hammer and fashioning-iron, and the living coal of fire; And the craft that createth a semblance, and fails of the heart's desire; And the toil that each dawning quickens and the task that is never done; And the heart that longeth ever, nor will look to the deed that is won.
"Thus gave my father the gifts that might never be taken again; Far worse were we now than the Gods, and but little better than men. But yet of our ancient might one thing had we left us still: We had craft to change our semblance, and could shift us at our will Into bodies of the beast-kind, or fowl, or fishes cold; For belike no fixèd semblance we had in the days of old, Till the Gods were waxen busy, and all things their form must take That knew of good and evil, and longed to gather and make.
"So dwelt we, brethren and father; and Fafnir my brother fared As the scourge and compeller of all things, and left no wrong undared; But for me, I toiled and I toiled; and fair grew my father's house; But writhen and foul were the hands that had made it glorious; And the love of women left me, and the fame of sword and shield: And the sun and the winds of heaven, and the fowl and the grass of the field Were grown as the tools of my smithy; and all the world I knew, And the glories that lie beyond it, and whitherward all things drew; And myself a little fragment amidst it all I saw, Grim, cold-heart, and unmighty as the tempest-driven straw. --Let be.--For Otter my brother saw seldom field or fold, And he oftenest used that custom, whereof e'en now I told, And would shift his shape with the wood-beasts and the things of land and sea; And he knew what joy their hearts had, and what they longed to be, And their dim-eyed understanding, and his wood-craft waxed so great, That he seemed the king of the creatures and their very mortal fate.
"Now as the years won over three folk of the heavenly halls Grew aweary of sleepless sloth, and the day that nought befalls; And they fain would look on the earth, and their latest handiwork, And turn the fine gold over, lest a flaw therein should lurk. And the three were the heart-wise Odin, the Father of the Slain, And Loki, the World's Begrudger, who maketh all labour vain, And Hænir, the Utter-Blameless, who wrought the hope of man, And his heart and inmost yearnings, when first the work began;-- --The God that was aforetime, and hereafter yet shall be, When the new light yet undreamed of shall shine o'er earth and sea.
"Thus about the world they wended and deemed it fair and good, And they loved their life-days dearly: so came they to the wood, And the lea without a shepherd and the dwellings of the deer, And unto a mighty water that ran from a fathomless mere. Now that flood my brother Otter had haunted many a day For its plenteous fruit of fishes; and there on the bank he lay As the Gods came wandering thither; and he slept, and in his dreams He saw the downlong river, and its fishy-peopled streams, And the swift smooth heads of its forces, and its swirling wells and deep, Where hang the poisèd fishes, and their watch in the rock-halls keep. And so, as he thought of it all, and its deeds and its wanderings, Whereby it ran to the sea down the road of scaly things, His body was changed with his thought, as yet was the wont of our kind, And he grew but an Otter indeed; and his eyes were sleeping and blind The while he devoured the prey, a golden red-flecked trout. Then passed by Odin and Hænir, nor cumbered their souls with doubt; But Loki lingered a little, and guile in his heart arose, And he saw through the shape of the Otter, and beheld a chief of his foes, A king of the free and the careless: so he called up his baleful might, And gathered his godhead together, and tore a shard outright From the rock-wall of the river, and across its green wells cast; And roaring over the waters that bolt of evil passed, And smote my brother Otter that his heart's life fled away, And bore his man's shape with it, and beast-like there he lay, Stark dead on the sun-lit blossoms: but the Evil God rejoiced, And because of the sound of his singing the wild grew many-voiced.
"Then the three Gods waded the river, and no word Hænir spake, For his thoughts were set on God-home, and the day that is ever awake. But Odin laughed in his wrath, and murmured: 'Ah, how long, Till the iron shall ring on the anvil for the shackles of thy wrong!'
"Then Loki takes up the quarry, and is e'en as a man again; And the three wend on through the wild-wood till they come to a grassy plain Beneath the untrodden mountains; and lo a noble house, And a hall with great craft fashioned, and made full glorious; But night on the earth was falling; so scantly might they see The wealth of its smooth-wrought stonework and its world of imagery: Then Loki bade turn thither since day was at an end, And into that noble dwelling the lords of God-home wend; And the porch was fair and mighty, and so smooth-wrought was its gold, That the mirrored stars of heaven therein might ye behold: But the hall, what words shall tell it, how fair it rose aloft, And the marvels of its windows, and its golden hangings soft, And the forest of its pillars! and each like the wave's heart shone, And the mirrored boughs of the garden were dancing fair thereon. --Long years agone was it builded, and where are its wonders now?
"Now the men of God-home marvelled, and gazed through the golden glow, And a man like a covetous king amidst of the hall they saw; And his chair was the tooth of the whale, wrought smooth with never a flaw; And his gown was the sea-born purple, and he bore a crown on his head, But never a sword was before him: kind-seeming words he said, And bade rest to the weary feet that had worn the wild so long. So they sat, and were men by seeming; and there rose up music and song, And they ate and drank and were merry: but amidst the glee of the cup They felt themselves tangled and caught, as when the net cometh up Before the folk of the firth, and the main sea lieth far off; And the laughter of lips they hearkened, and that hall-abider's scoff, As his face and his mocking eyes anigh to their faces drew, And their godhead was caught in the net, and no shift of creation they knew To escape from their man-like bodies; so great that day was the Earth.
"Then spake the hall-abider: 'Where then is thy guileful mirth, And thy hall-glee gone, O Loki? Come, Hænir, fashion now My heart for love and for hope, that the fear in my body may grow, That I may grieve and be sorry, that the ruth may arise in me, As thou dealtst with the first of men-folk, when a master-smith thou wouldst be. And thou, Allfather Odin, hast thou come on a bastard brood? Or hadst thou belike a brother, thy twin for evil and good, That waked amidst thy slumber, and slumbered midst thy work? Nay, Wise-one, art thou silent as a child amidst the mirk? Ah, I know ye are called the Gods, and are mighty men at home, But now with a guilt on your heads to no feeble folk are ye come, To a folk that need you nothing: time was when we knew you not: Yet e'en then fresh was the winter, and the summer sun was hot, And the wood-meats stayed our hunger, and the water quenched our thirst, Ere the good and the evil wedded and begat the best and the worst. And how if today I undo it, that work of your fashioning, If the web of the world run backward, and the high heavens lack a King? --Woe's me! for your ancient mastery shall help you at your need: If ye fill up the gulf of my longing and my empty heart of greed, And slake the flame ye have quickened, then may ye go your ways And get ye back to your kingship and the driving on of the days To the day of the gathered war-hosts, and the tide of your Fateful Gloom. Now nought may ye gainsay it that my mouth must speak the doom, For ye wot well I am Reidmar, and that there ye lie red-hand From the slaughtering of my offspring, and the spoiling of my land; For his death of my wold hath bereft me and every highway wet. --Nay, Loki, naught avails it, well-fashioned is the net. Come forth, my son, my war-god, and show the Gods their work, And thou who mightst learn e'en Loki, if need were to lie or lurk!'
"And there was I, I Regin, the smithier of the snare, And high up Fafnir towered with the brow that knew no fear, With the wrathful and pitiless heart that was born of my father's will, And the greed that the Gods had fashioned the fate of the earth to fulfill.
"Then spake the Father of Men: 'We have wrought thee wrong indeed, And, wouldst thou amend it with wrong, thine errand must we speed; For I know of thine heart's desire, and the gold thou shalt nowise lack, --Nor all the works of the gold. But best were thy word drawn back, If indeed the doom of the Norns be not utterly now gone forth.'
"Then Reidmar laughed and answered: 'So much is thy word of worth! And they call thee Odin for this, and stretch forth hands in vain, And pray for the gifts of a God who giveth and taketh again! It was better in times past over, when we prayed for nought at all, When no love taught us beseeching, and we had no troth to recall. Ye have changed the world, and it bindeth with the right and the wrong ye have made, Nor may ye be Gods henceforward save the rightful ransom be paid. But perchance ye are weary of kingship, and will deal no more with the earth? Then curse the world, and depart, and sit in your changeless mirth; And there shall be no more kings, and battle and murder shall fail, And the world shall laugh and long not, nor weep, nor fashion the tale.'
"So spake Reidmar the Wise; but the wrath burned through his word, And wasted his heart of wisdom; and there was Fafnir the Lord, And there was Regin the Wright, and they raged at their father's back: And all these cried out together with the voice of the sea-storm's wrack; 'O hearken, Gods of the Goths! ye shall die, and we shall be Gods, And rule your men belovèd with bitter-heavy rods, And make them beasts beneath us, save today ye do our will, And pay us the ransom of blood, and our hearts with the gold fulfill.'
"But Odin spake in answer, and his voice was awful and cold: 'Give righteous doom, O Reidmar! say what ye will of the Gold!'
"Then Reidmar laughed in his heart, and his wrath and his wisdom fled, And nought but his greed abided; and he spake from his throne and said:
"'Now hearken the doom I shall speak! Ye stranger-folk shall be free When ye give me the Flame of the Waters, the gathered Gold of the Sea, That Andvari hideth rejoicing in the wan realm pale as the grave; And the Master of Sleight shall fetch it, and the hand that never gave, And the heart that begrudgeth for ever shall gather and give and rue. --Lo this is the doom of the wise, and no doom shall be spoken anew.'
"Then Odin spake: 'It is well; the Curser shall seek for the curse; And the Greedy shall cherish the evil--and the seed of the Great they shall nurse.'
"No word spake Reidmar the great, for the eyes of his heart were turned To the edge of the outer desert, so sore for the gold he yearned. But Loki I loosed from the toils, and he goeth his way abroad; And the heart of Odin he knoweth, and where he shall seek the Hoard.
"There is a desert of dread in the uttermost part of the world, Where over a wall of mountains is a mighty water hurled, Whose hidden head none knoweth, nor where it meeteth the sea; And that force is the Force of Andvari, and an Elf of the Dark is he. In the cloud and the desert he dwelleth amid that land alone; And his work is the storing of treasure within his house of stone. Time was when he knew of wisdom, and had many a tale to tell Of the days before the Dwarf-age, and of what in that world befell: And he knew of the stars and the sun, and the worlds that come and go On the nether rim of heaven, and whence the wind doth blow, And how the sea hangs balanced betwixt the curving lands, And how all drew together for the first Gods' fashioning hands. But now is all gone from him, save the craft of gathering gold, And he heedeth nought of the summer, nor knoweth the winter cold, Nor looks to the sun nor the snowfall, nor ever dreams of the sea, Nor hath heard of the making of men-folk, nor of where the high Gods be But ever he gripeth and gathereth, and he toileth hour by hour, Nor knoweth the noon from the midnight as he looks on his stony bower, And saith: 'It is short, it is narrow for all I shall gather and get; For the world is but newly fashioned, and long shall its years be yet.'
"There Loki fareth, and seeth in a land of nothing good, Far off o'er the empty desert, the reek of the falling flood Go up to the floor of heaven, and thither turn his feet As he weaveth the unseen meshes and the snare of strong deceit; So he cometh his ways to the water, where the glittering foam-bow glows, And the huge flood leaps the rock-wall and a green arch over it throws. There under the roof of water he treads the quivering floor, And the hush of the desert is felt amid the water's roar, And the bleak sun lighteth the wave-vault, and tells of the fruitless plain, And the showers that nourish nothing, and the summer come in vain.
"There did the great Guile-master his toils and his tangles set, And as wide as was the water, so wide was woven the net; And as dim as the Elf's remembrance did the meshes of it show; And he had no thought of sorrow, nor spared to come and go On his errands of griping and getting till he felt himself tangled and caught: Then back to his blinded soul was his ancient wisdom brought, And he saw his fall and his ruin, as a man by the lightning's flame Sees the garth all flooded by foemen; and again he remembered his name; And e'en as a book well written the tale of the Gods he knew, And the tale of the making of men, and much of the deeds they should do.
"But Loki took his man-shape, and laughed aloud and cried: 'What fish of the ends of the earth is so strong and so feeble-eyed, That he draweth the pouch of my net on his road to the dwelling of Hell? What Elf that hath heard the gold growing, but hath heard not the light winds tell That the Gods with the world have been dealing and have fashioned men for the earth? Where is he that hath ridden the cloud-horse and measured the ocean's girth, But seen nought of the building of God-home nor the forging of the sword: Where then is the maker of nothing, the earless and eyeless lord? In the pouch of my net he lieth, with his head on the threshold of Hell!'
"Then the Elf lamented, and said: 'Thou knowst of my name full well: Andvari begotten of Oinn, whom the Dwarf-kind called the Wise, By the worst of the Gods is taken, the forge and the father of lies.'
"Said Loki: 'How of the Elf-kind, do they love their latter life, When their weal is all departed, and they lie alow in the strife?'
"Then Andvari groaned and answered: 'I know what thou wouldst have, The wealth mine own hands gathered, the gold that no man gave.'
"'Come forth,' said Loki, 'and give it, and dwell in peace henceforth-- Or die in the toils if thou listest, if thy life be nothing worth.'
"Full sore the Elf lamented, but he came before the God, And the twain went into the rock-house and on fine gold they trod, And the walls shone bright, and brighter than the sun of the upper air. How great was that treasure of treasures: and the Helm of Dread was there; The world but in dreams had seen it; and there was the hauberk of gold; None other is in the heavens, nor has earth of its fellow told.
"Then Loki bade the Elf-king bring all to the upper day, And he dight himself with his Godhead to bear the treasure away: So there in the dim grey desert before the God of Guile, Great heaps of the hid-world's treasure the weary Elf must pile, And Loki looked on laughing: but, when it all was done, And the Elf was hurrying homeward, his finger gleamed in the sun: Then Loki cried: 'Thou art guileful: thou hast not learned the tale Of the wisdom that Gods hath gotten and their might of all avail. Hither to me! that I learn thee of a many things to come; Or despite of all wilt thou journey to the dead man's deedless home. Come hither again to thy master, and give the ring to me; For meseems it is Loki's portion, and the Bale of Men shall it be.'
"Then the Elf drew off the gold-ring and stood with empty hand E'en where the flood fell over 'twixt the water and the land, And he gazed on the great Guile-master, and huge and grim he grew; And his anguish swelled within him, and the word of the Norns he knew; How that gold was the seed of gold to the wise and the shapers of things, The hoarders of hidden treasure, and the unseen glory of rings; But the seed of woe to the world and the foolish wasters of men, And grief to the generations that die and spring again: Then he cried: 'There farest thou Loki, and might I load thee worse Than with what thine ill heart beareth, then shouldst thou bear my curse: But for men a curse thou bearest: entangled in my gold, Amid my woe abideth another woe untold. Two brethren and a father, eight kings my grief shall slay; And the hearts of queens shall be broken, and their eyes shall loathe the day. Lo, how the wilderness blossoms! Lo, how the lonely lands Are waving with the harvest that fell from my gathering hands!'
"But Loki laughed in silence, and swift in Godhead went, To the golden hall of Reidmar and the house of our content. But when that world of treasure was laid within our hall 'Twas as if the sun were minded to live 'twixt wall and wall, And all we stood by and panted. Then Odin spake and said:
"'O Kings, O folk of the Dwarf-kind, lo, the ransom duly paid! Will ye have this sun of the ocean, and reap the fruitful field, And garner up the harvest that earth therefrom shall yield?'
"So he spake; but a little season nought answered Reidmar the wise, But turned his face from the Treasure, and peered with eager eyes Endlong the hall and athwart it, as a man may chase about A ray of the sun of the morning that a naked sword throws out; And lo from Loki's right-hand came the flash of the fruitful ring, And at last spake Reidmar scowling: 'Ye wait for my yea-saying That your feet may go free on the earth, and the fear of my toils may be done That then ye may say in your laughter: The fools of the time agone! The purblind eyes of the Dwarf-kind! they have gotten the garnered sheaf And have let their Masters depart with the Seed of Gold and of Grief: O Loki, friend of Allfather, cast down Andvari's ring, Or the world shall yet turn backward and the high heavens lack a king.'
"Then Loki drew off the Elf-ring and cast it down on the heap, And forth as the gold met gold did the light of its glory leap: But he spake: 'It rejoiceth my heart that no whit of all ye shall lack, Lest the curse of the Elf-king cleave not, and ye 'scape the utter wrack.'
"Then laughed and answered Reidmar: 'I shall have it while I live, And that shall be long, meseemeth: for who is there may strive With my sword, the war-wise Fafnir, and my shield that is Regin the Smith? But if indeed I should die, then let men-folk deal therewith, And ride to the golden glitter through evil deeds and good. I will have my heart's desire, and do as the high Gods would.'
"Then I loosed the Gods from their shackles, and great they grew on the floor And into the night they gat them; but Odin turned by the door, And we looked not, little we heeded, for we grudged his mastery; Then he spake, and his voice was waxen as the voice of the winter sea:
"'O Kings, O folk of the Dwarfs, why then will ye covet and rue? I have seen your fathers' fathers and the dust wherefrom they grew; But who hath heard of my father or the land where first I sprung? Who knoweth my day of repentance, or the year when I was young? Who hath learned the names of the Wise-one or measured out his will? Who hath gone before to teach him, and the doom of days fulfill? Lo, I look on the Curse of the Gold, and wrong amended by wrong, And love by love confounded, and the strong abased by the strong; And I order it all and amend it, and the deeds that are done I see, And none other beholdeth or knoweth; and who shall be wise unto me? For myself to myself I offered, that all wisdom I might know, And fruitful I waxed of works, and good and fair did they grow; And I knew, and I wrought and fore-ordered; and evil sat by my side, And myself by myself hath been doomed, and I look for the fateful tide; And I deal with the generations, and the men mine hand hath made, And myself by myself shall be grieved, lest the world and its fashioning fade.'
"They went and the Gold abided: but the words Allfather spake, I call them back full often for that golden even's sake, Yet little that hour I heard them, save as wind across the lea; For the gold shone up on Reidmar and on Fafnir's face and on me. And sore I loved that treasure: so I wrapped my heart in guile, And sleeked my tongue with sweetness, and set my face in a smile, And I bade my father keep it, the more part of the gold, Yet give good store to Fafnir for his goodly help and bold, And deal me a little handful for my smithying-help that day. But no little I desired, though for little I might pray; And prayed I for much or for little, he answered me no more Than the shepherd answers the wood-wolf who howls at the yule-tide door: But good he ever deemed it to sit on his ivory throne, And stare on the red rings' glory, and deem he was ever alone: And never a word spake Fafnir, but his eyes waxed red and grim As he looked upon our father, and noted the ways of him.
"The night waned into the morning, and still above the Hoard Sat Reidmar clad in purple; but Fafnir took his sword, And I took my smithying-hammer, and apart in the world we went; But I came aback in the even, and my heart was heavy and spent; And I longed, but fear was upon me and I durst not go to the Gold; So I lay in the house of my toil mid the things I had fashioned of old; And methought as I lay in my bed 'twixt waking and slumber of night That I heard the tinkling metal and beheld the hall alight, But I slept and dreamed of the Gods, and the things that never have slept, Till I woke to a cry and a clashing and forth from the bed I leapt, And there by the heaped-up Elf-gold my brother Fafnir stood, And there at his feet lay Reidmar and reddened the Treasure with blood: And e'en as I looked on his eyen they glazed and whitened with death, And forth on the torch-litten hall he shed his latest breath.
"But I looked on Fafnir and trembled for he wore the Helm of Dread, And his sword was bare in his hand, and the sword and the hand were red With the blood of our father Reidmar, and his body was wrapped in gold, With the ruddy-gleaming mailcoat of whose fellow hath nought been told, And it seemed as I looked upon him that he grew beneath mine eyes: And then in the mid-hall's silence did his dreadful voice arise:
"'I have slain my father Reidmar, that I alone might keep The Gold of the darksome places, the Candle of the Deep. I am such as the Gods have made me, lest the Dwarf-kind people the earth, Or mingle their ancient wisdom with its short-lived latest birth. I shall dwell alone henceforward, and the Gold and its waxing curse, I shall brood on them both together, let my life grow better or worse. And I am a King henceforward and long shall be my life, And the Gold shall grow with my longing, for I shall hide it from strife, And hoard up the Ring of Andvari in the house thine hand hath built. O thou, wilt thou tarry and tarry, till I cast thy blood on the guilt? Lo, I am a King for ever, and alone on the Gold shall I dwell And do no deed to repent of and leave no tale to tell.'
"More awful grew his visage as he spake the word of dread, And no more durst I behold him, but with heart a-cold I fled; I fled from the glorious house my hands had made so fair, As poor as the new-born baby with nought of raiment or gear: I fled from the heaps of gold, and my goods were the eager will, And the heart that remembereth all, and the hand that may never be still.
"Then unto this land I came, and that was long ago As men-folk count the years; and I taught them to reap and to sow, And a famous man I became: but that generation died, And they said that Frey had taught them, and a God my name did hide. Then I taught them the craft of metals, and the sailing of the sea, And the taming of the horse-kind, and the yoke-beasts' husbandry, And the building up of houses; and that race of men went by, And they said that Thor had taught them; and a smithying-carle was I. Then I gave their maidens the needle and I bade them hold the rock, And the shuttle-race gaped for them as they sat at the weaving-stock. But by then these were waxen crones to sit dim-eyed by the door, It was Freyia had come among them to teach the weaving-lore. Then I taught them the tales of old, and fair songs fashioned and true, And their speech grew into music of measured time and due, And they smote the harp to my bidding, and the land grew soft and sweet: But ere the grass of their grave-mounds rose up above my feet, It was Bragi had made them sweet-mouthed, and I was the wandering scald; Yet green did my cunning flourish by whatso name I was called, And I grew the master of masters--Think thou how strange it is That the sword in the hands of a stripling shall one day end all this!
"Yet oft mid all my wisdom did I long for my brother's part, And Fafnir's mighty kingship weighed heavy on my heart When the Kings of the earthly kingdoms would give me golden gifts From out of their scanty treasures, due pay for my cunning shifts. And once--didst thou number the years thou wouldst think it long ago-- I wandered away to the country from whence our stem did grow. There methought the fells grown greater, but waste did the meadows lie, And the house was rent and ragged and open to the sky. But lo, when I came to the doorway, great silence brooded there, Nor bat nor owl would haunt it, nor the wood-wolves drew anear. Then I went to the pillared hall-stead, and lo, huge heaps of gold, And to and fro amidst them a mighty Serpent rolled: Then my heart grew chill with terror, for I thought on the wont of our race, And I, who had lost their cunning, was a man in a deadly place, A feeble man and a swordless in the lone destroyer's fold; For I knew that the Worm was Fafnir, the Wallower on the Gold.
"So I gathered my strength and fled, and hid my shame again Mid the foolish sons of men-folk; and the more my hope was vain, The more I longed for the Treasure, and deliv'rance from the yoke: And yet passed the generations, and I dwelt with the short-lived folk.
"Long years, and long years after, the tale of men-folk told How up on the Glittering Heath was the house and the dwelling of gold, And within that house was the Serpent, and the Lord of the Fearful Face: Then I wondered sore of the desert; for I thought of the golden place My hands of old had builded; for I knew by many a sign That the Fearful Face was my brother, that the blood of the Worm was mine. This was ages long ago, and yet in that desert he dwells, Betwixt him and men death lieth, and no man of his semblance tells; But the tale of the great Gold-wallower is never the more outworn. Then came thy kin, O Sigurd, and thy father's father was born, And I fell to the dreaming of dreams, and I saw thine eyes therein, And I looked and beheld thy glory and all that thy sword should win; And I thought that thou shouldst be he, who should bring my heart its rest, That of all the gifts of the Kings thy sword should give me the best.
"Ah, I fell to the dreaming of dreams; and oft the gold I saw, And the golden-fashioned Hauberk, clean-wrought without a flaw, And the Helm that aweth the world; and I knew of Fafnir's heart That his wisdom was greater than mine, because he had held him apart, Nor spilt on the sons of men-folk our knowledge of ancient days, Nor bartered one whit for their love, nor craved for the people's praise.
"And some day I shall have it all, his gold and his craft and his heart And the gathered and garnered wisdom he guards in the mountains apart And then when my hand is upon it, my hand shall be as the spring To thaw his winter away and the fruitful tide to bring. It shall grow, it shall grow into summer, and I shall be he that wrought, And my deeds shall be remembered, and my name that once was nought; Yea I shall be Frey, and Thor, and Freyia, and Bragi in one: Yea the God of all that is,--and no deed in the wide world done, But the deed that my heart would fashion: and the songs of the freed from the yoke Shall bear to my house in the heavens the love and the longing of folk. And there shall be no more dying, and the sea shall be as the land, And the world for ever and ever shall be young beneath my hand."
Then his eyelids fell, and he slumbered, and it seemed as Sigurd gazed That the flames leapt up in the stithy and about the Master blazed, And his hand in the harp-strings wandered and the sweetness from them poured. Then unto his feet leapt Sigurd and drew his stripling's sword, And he cried: "Awake, O Master, for, lo, the day goes by, And this too is an ancient story, that the sons of men-folk die, And all save fame departeth. Awake! for the day grows late, And deeds by the door are passing, nor the Norns will have them wait."
Then Regin groaned and wakened, sad-eyed and heavy-browed, And weary and worn was he waxen, as a man by a burden bowed: And he spake: "Hast thou hearkened, Sigurd, wilt thou help a man that is old To avenge him for his father? Wilt thou win that Treasure of Gold And be more than the Kings of the earth? Wilt thou rid the earth of a wrong And heal the woe and the sorrow my heart hath endured o'erlong?"
Then Sigurd looked upon him with steadfast eyes and clear, And Regin drooped and trembled as he stood the doom to hear: But the bright child spake as aforetime, and answered the Master and said: "Thou shalt have thy will, and the Treasure, and take the curse on thine head."
