A Selection From The Poems Of William Morris Part 16

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 s.h.i.+ning like 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 rus.h.i.+ng 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 s.h.i.+ning 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 pa.s.s 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-G.o.ds'

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 fas.h.i.+oned, lest the song-craft come to nought, When the harps of G.o.d-home tinkle, and the G.o.ds are at stretch to hearken; Lest the hosts of the G.o.ds 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 fas.h.i.+on a man.

Fear nought; he lieth quiet in his mound by the sea-waves wan."

So shone the eyes of Sigurd, that the s.h.i.+eld 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 pa.s.sed, 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 to-day the dreams of my childhood have 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 G.o.d-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 G.o.ds amidst its dales were come:-- And how were we worse than the G.o.ds, 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 G.o.ds amongst us were, And the people come 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 fas.h.i.+oned 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 G.o.ds 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 fas.h.i.+oning-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 G.o.ds, 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 s.h.i.+ft us at our will Into bodies of the beast-kind, or fowl, or fishes cold; For belike no fixed semblance we had in the days of old, Till the G.o.ds 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 s.h.i.+eld: And the sun and the winds of heaven, and the fowl and the gra.s.s 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 s.h.i.+ft 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 Haenir, the Utter-Blameless, who wrought the hope of man, And his heart and inmost yearnings, when first the work began;-- --The G.o.d that was aforetime, and hereafter yet shall be When the new light yet undreamed of shall s.h.i.+ne 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 G.o.ds 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 poised 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 pa.s.sed by Odin and Haenir, nor c.u.mbered 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 G.o.dhead 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 pa.s.sed, 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 G.o.d rejoiced, And because of the sound of his singing the wild grew many-voiced.

"Then the three G.o.ds waded the river, and no word Haenir spake, For his thoughts were set on G.o.d-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 gra.s.sy plain Beneath the untrodden mountains; and lo! a n.o.ble house, And a hall with great craft fas.h.i.+oned, 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 n.o.ble dwelling the lords of G.o.d-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.