The Story of Sigurd the Volsung and the Fall of the Niblungs Part 29

She sighed; for her heart was heavy for the days but a while agone, When the death was little dreamed of, and the joy was lightly won; And her soul was bitter with anger for the day that Brynhild had led To the heart of the Niblung glory: but fear thrust on, and she said: "O my lord, O Sigurd the mighty, an evil day is this, A chill, an untimely hour for the blooming of our bliss!

Go in to my sister Brynhild, and tell her of very sooth That my heart for her sorrow sorrows, and is sick for woe and ruth."

"The hour draws nigh," said Sigurd, "for I know of the speech and the word That is kind in the air to hearken, and is worse than the whetted sword.

Now is Brynhild sore encompa.s.sed by a tide of measureless woe, And amidst and anear, as I see it, she seeth the death-star grow.

Yet belike it is, O Gudrun, that thy will herein shall be done; But now depart, I pray thee, and leave thy lord alone: Heavy and hard shall it be, for a season shall it endure, But the grief and the sorrow shall perish, and the fame of the G.o.ds is sure."

Yet she sat by his side and spake not, and a while at his glory she gazed, For his face o'erpa.s.sed the brightness that so long the folk had praised, And she durst not question or touch him, and at last she rose from his side, And gat her away soft-footed, and wandered far and wide Through the house and the Burg of the Niblungs; yet durst she never more Go look on the Niblung Brethren as they sat in their harness of war.

But the morn to the noon hath fallen, and the afternoon to the eve, And the beams of the westering sun the Niblung wall-stones leave, And yet sitteth Sigurd alone; then the sun sinketh down into night, And the moon ariseth in heaven, and the earth is pale with her light: And there sitteth Sigurd the Volsung in the gold and the harness of war That was won from the heart-wise Fafnir and the guarded Treasure of yore, But pale is the Helm of Aweing, and wan are the ruddy rings: So whiles in a city forsaken ye see the shapes of kings, And the lips that the carvers wrought, while their words were remembered and known, And the brows men trembled to look on in the long-enduring stone, And their hands once unforgotten, and their b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the walls of war; But now are they hidden marvels to the wise and the master of lore, And he nameth them not, nor knoweth, and their fear is faded away.

E'en so sat Sigurd the Volsung till the night waxed moonless and grey, Till the chill dawn spread o'er the lowland, and the purple fells grew clear In the cloudless summer dawn-dusk, and the sun was drawing anear: Then reddened the Burg of the Niblungs, and the walls of the ancient folk, And a wind came down from the mountains and the living things awoke And cried out for need and rejoicing; till, lo, the rim of the sun Showed over the eastern ridges, and the new day was begun; And the beams rose higher and higher, and white grew the Niblung wall, And the spears on the ramparts glistered and the windows blazed withal, And the sunlight flooded the courts, and throughout the chambers streamed: Then bright as the flames of the heaven the Helm of Aweing gleamed, Then clashed the red rings of the Treasure, as Sigurd stood on his feet, And went through the echoing chambers, as the winds in the wall-nook beat; And there in the earliest morning while the lords of the Niblungs lie 'Twixt light sleep and awakening they hear the clash go by, And their dreams are of happy battle, and the songs that follow fame, And the hope of the G.o.ds accomplished, and the tales of the ancient name, Ere Sigurd came to the Niblungs and faced their gathered foes.

But on to the chamber of Brynhild alone in the morning he goes, And the sun lieth broad across it, and the door is open wide As the last of the women had left it; then he lifted his voice and cried:

"Awake, arise, O Brynhild! for the house is smitten through With the light of the sun awakened, and the hope of deeds to do."

She spake: "Art thou come to behold me? thou, the mightiest and the worst Of the pitiless betrayers, that the hope of my life hath nursed."

He said: "It is I that awake thee, and I give thee the life and the days For fulfilling the deedful measure, and the cup of the people's praise."

She cried: "O the gifts of Sigurd!--Ah why didst thou cast me aside, That we twain should be dwelling, the strangers, in the house of the Niblung pride?

What life is the death in life? what deeds--where the shame cometh up Betwixt the speech of the wise-ones and the draught of the welcoming cup; And the shame and repentance awaketh when the song in the harp is awake?

Where we rise in the morning for nothing, and lie down for no love's sake?

Where thou ridest forth to the battle and the dead hope dulleth thy light, And with shame thy hand is c.u.mbered when the sword is uplifted to smite?

O Sigurd, what hast thou done, that the gifts are cast aback?

--O nay, no life of repentance!--but the bitter sword and the wrack!"

"O Brynhild, live!" said the Volsung, "for what shall the world be then When thou from the earth art departed, and the hallowed hearths of men?"

She said: "Woe worth the while for the word that hath come from thy mouth!

As the bitter weltering ocean to the s.h.i.+pman dying of drouth, E'en so is the life thou biddest, since thou pitiedst not thine own, Nor thy love, nor the hope of thy life-days, but must dwell as a glory alone!"

"It is truer to tell," said Sigurd, "that mine heart in thy love was enwrapped Till the evil hour of the darkening, and the eyeless tangle had happed: And thereof shalt thou know, O Brynhild, on one day better than I, When the stroke of the sword hath been smitten, and the night hath seen me die: Then belike in thy fresh-springing wisdom thou shalt know of the dark and the deed, And the snare for our feet fore-ordered from whence they shall never be freed.

But for me, in the net I awakened and the toils that unwitting I wove, And no tongue may tell of the sorrow that I had for thy wedded love: But I dwelt in the dwelling of kings; so I thrust its seeming apart And I laboured the field of Odin: and e'en this was a joy to my heart, That we dwelt in one house together, though a stranger's house it were."

"O late, and o'erlate!" cried Brynhild--"may the dead folk hearken and hear?

All was and today it is not--And the Oath unto Gunnar is sworn, Shall I live the days twice over, and the life thou hast made forlorn?"

And she heard the words of Hindfell and the oath of the earlier day, Till the daylight darkened before her, and all memory pa.s.sed away, And she cried: "I may live no longer, for the G.o.ds have forgotten the earth, And my heart is the forge of sorrow, and my life is a wasting dearth."

Then once again spake Sigurd, once only and no more: A pillar of light all golden he stood on the sunlit floor; And his eyes were the eyes of Odin, and his face was the hope of the world, And his voice was the thunder of even when the bolt o'er the mountains is hurled: The fairest of all things fas.h.i.+oned he stood 'twixt life and death, And the Wrath of Regin rattled, and the rings of the Glittering Heath, As he cried: "I am Sigurd the Volsung, and belike the tale shall be true That no hand on the earth may hinder what my hand would fas.h.i.+on and do: And what G.o.d or what man shall gainsay it if our love be greater than these, The pride and the glory of Sigurd, and the latter days' increase?

O live, live, Brynhild beloved! and thee on the earth will I wed, And put away Gudrun the Niblung--and all those shall be as the dead."

But so swelled the heart within him as he cast the speech abroad, That the golden wall of the battle, the fence unrent by the sword.

The red rings of the uttermost ocean on the breast of Sigurd brake: And he saw the eyes of Brynhild, and turned from the word she spake:

"I will not wed thee, Sigurd, nor any man alive."

Then Sigurd goes out from before her; and the winds in the wall-nook strive, And the craving of fowl and the beast-kind with the speech of men is blent, And the voice of the sons of the Niblungs; and their day's first hour is spent As he goes through the hall of the War-dukes, and many an earl is astir, But none durst question Sigurd lest of evil days he hear: So he comes to his kingly chamber, and there sitteth Gudrun alone, And the fear in her soul is minished, but the love and the hatred are grown: She is wan as the moonlit midnight; but her heart is cold and proud, And she asketh him nought of Brynhild, and nought he speaketh aloud.

_Of the slaying of Sigurd the Volsung._

Ere the noon ariseth Brynhild, and forth abroad she goes, And sits by the wall of her bower 'twixt the lily and the rose; Great dread and sickness is on her, as it shall be once on the morn When the uttermost sun is arisen 'neath the blast of the world-shaking horn: Her maidens come and go, but none dares cast her a word; From the wall the warders behold her, and turn round to the spear and the sword; Yea, few dare speak of Brynhild as morning fadeth in noon In the Burg of the ancient people mid the stir and the glory of June.

Then cometh forth speech from Brynhild, and she calls to her maidens and saith: "Go tell ye the King of the Niblungs that I am arisen from death, And come forth from the uttermost sickness, and with him I needs must speak: That we look into weighty matters and due deeds for king-folk seek."

So they went and returned not again, and it was but a little s.p.a.ce Ere she looked, and behold, it was Gunnar that stood before her face, And his war-gear darkened the noon-tide and the grey helm gleamed from his head, But his eyes were fearful beneath it: then she gazed on the heavens and said:

"Thou art come, O King of the Niblungs; what mighty deed is to frame That thou wearest the cloudy harness, and the arms of the Niblung name?"

He spake: "O woman, thou mockest! what King of the people is here?

Are not all kings confounded, and all peoples' shame laid bare?

Shall the G.o.ds grow little to help, or men grow great to amend?

Nay, the hunt is up in the world and the G.o.ds to the forest will wend, And their hearts are exceeding merry as they ride and drive the prey: But what if the bear grin on them, and the wood-beast turn to bay?

What now if the whelp of their breeding a wolf of the world be grown, To cry out in the face of their brightness and mar their glad renown?"

She heeded him not, nor hearkened: but he said: "Thou wert wise of old; And hither I come at thy bidding: let the thought of thine heart be told."

She said: "What aileth thee, Gunnar? time was thou wert great and glad.

And that was yester-morning: how then is the good turned bad?"

He said: "I was glad in my dreams, and I woke and my glory was dead."

"Hath a G.o.d then wrought thee evil, or one of the King-folk?" she said.

He said: "In the snare am I taken, in the web that a traitor hath spun; And no deed knoweth my right-hand to do or to leave undone."

"I look upon thee," said Brynhild, "I know thy race and thy name.

Yet meseems the deed thou sparest, to amend thine evil and shame."

"Nought, nought," he said, "may amend it, save the hungry eyeless sword.

And the war without hope or honour, and the strife without reward."

"Thou hast spoken the word," said Brynhild, "if the word is enough, it is well.

Let us eat and drink and be merry, that all men of our words may tell!"

"O all-wise woman," said Gunnar, "what deed lieth under the tongue?

What day for the dearth of the people, when the seed of thy sowing hath sprung?"

She said: "Our garment is Shame, and nought the web shall rend, Save the day without repentance, and the deed that nought may amend."

"Speak, mighty of women," said Gunnar, "and cry out the name and the deed That the ends of the Earth may hearken, and the Niblungs' grievous Need."

"To slay," she said, "is the deed, to slay a King ere the morn, And the name is Sigurd the Volsung, my love and thy brother sworn."

She turned and departed from him, and he knew not whither she went; But he took his sword from the girdle and the peace-strings round it rent, And into the house he gat him, and the sunlit fair abode, But his heart in the mid-mirk waded, as through the halls he strode, Till he came to a chamber apart; and Grimhild his mother was there, And there was his brother Hogni in the cloudy Niblung gear: Him-seemed there was silence between them as of them that have spoken, and wait Till the words of their mouths be accomplished by slow unholpen Fate: But they turned to the door, and beheld him, and he took his sheathed sword And cast it adown betwixt them, and it clashed half bare on the board, And Grimhild spake as it clattered: "For whom are the peace-strings rent?

For whom is the blood-point whetted and the edge of thine intent?"

He said: "For the heart of Sigurd; and thus all is rent away Betwixt this word and his slaying, save a little hour of day."