Part 6 (1/2)

But the song sprang up in the hall, and merry was Sigmund's heart, And he drank of the wine of King-folk and thrust all care apart.

Then the second time came Borghild and stood before the twain, And she said: ”O valiant step-son, how oft shall I say it in vain, That my hate for thee hath perished, and the love hath sprouted green?

Wilt thou thrust my gift away, and shame the hand of a queen?”

So he took the cup from her fingers, and pondered over it long, And thought on the labour that should be, and the wrong that amendeth wrong.

Then spake Sigmund the King: ”O son, what aileth thine heart, When the earls of men are merry, and thrust all care apart?”

But he said: ”I have looked in the cup, and I see the deadly snare.”

”Well seen it is,” quoth Sigmund, ”but thy burden I may bear.”

And he took the beaker and drained it, and the song rose up in the hall; And fair bethought King Sigmund his latter days befall.

But again came Borghild the Queen and stood with the cup in her hand, And said: ”They are idle liars, those singers of every land Who sing how thou fearest nothing; for thou losest valour and might, And art fain to live for ever.”

Then she stretched forth her fingers white, And he took the cup from her hand, nor drank, but pondered long Of the toil that begetteth toil, and the wrong that beareth wrong.

But Sigmund turned him about, and he said: ”What aileth thee, son?

Shall our life-days never be merry, and our labour never be done?”

But Sinfiotli said: ”I have looked, and lo there is death in the cup.”

And the song, and the tinkling of harp-strings to the roof-tree winded up: And Sigmund was dreamy with wine and the wearing of many a year; And the noise and the glee of the people as the sound of the wild woods were, And the blossoming boughs of the Branstock were the wild trees waving about; So he said: ”Well seen, my fosterling; let the lip then strain it out.”

Then Sinfiotli laughed and answered: ”I drink unto Odin then, And the Dwellers up in G.o.d-home, the lords of the lives of men.”

He drank as he spake the word, and forthwith the venom ran In a chill flood over his heart, and down fell the mighty man With never an uttered death-word and never a death-changed look, And the floor of the hall of the Volsungs beneath his falling shook.

Then up rose the elder of days with a great and bitter cry And lifted the head of the fallen, and none durst come anigh To hearken the words of his sorrow, if any words he said, But such as the Father of all men might speak over Baldur dead.

And again, as before the death-stroke, waxed the hall of the Volsungs dim, And once more he seemed in the forest, where he spake with nought but him.

Then he lifted him up from the hall-floor and bore him on his breast, And men who saw Sinfiotli deemed his heart had gotten rest, And his eyes were no more dreadful. Forth fared the Volsung child With Signy's son through the doorway; and the wind was great and wild, And the moon rode high in the heavens, and whiles it shone out bright, And whiles the clouds drew over. So went he through the night, Until the dwellings of man-folk were a long while left behind.

Then came he unto the thicket and the houses of the wind, And the feet of the h.o.a.ry mountains, and the dwellings of the deer, And the heaths without a shepherd, and the houseless dales and drear.

Then lo, a mighty water, a rus.h.i.+ng flood and wide, And no ferry for the s.h.i.+pless; so he went along its side, As a man that seeketh somewhat: but it widened toward the sea, And the moon sank down in the west, and he went o'er a desert lea.

But lo, in that dusk ere the dawning a glimmering over the flood, And the sound of the cleaving of waters, and Sigmund the Volsung stood By the edge of the swirling eddy, and a white-sailed boat he saw, And its keel ran light on the strand with the last of the dying flaw.

But therein was a man most mighty, grey-clad like the mountain-cloud, One-eyed and seeming ancient, and he spake and hailed him aloud:

”Now whither away, King Sigmund, for thou farest far to-night?”

Spake the King: ”I would cross this water, for my life hath lost its light, And mayhap there be deeds for a king to be found on the further sh.o.r.e.”

”My senders,” quoth the s.h.i.+pman, ”bade me waft a great king o'er, So set thy burden a s.h.i.+pboard, for the night's face looks toward day.”

So betwixt the earth and the water his son did Sigmund lay; But lo, when he fain would follow, there was neither s.h.i.+p nor man, Nor aught but his empty bosom beside that water wan, That whitened by little and little as the night's face looked to the day.

So he stood a long while gazing and then turned and gat him away; And ere the sun of the noon-tide across the meadows shone Sigmund the King of the Volsungs was set in his father's throne, And he hearkened and doomed and portioned, and did all the deeds of a king.

So the autumn waned and perished, and the winter brought the spring.

_Of the last battle of King Sigmund, and the death of him._

Now is Queen Borghild driven from the Volsung's bed and board, And unwedded sitteth Sigmund an exceeding mighty lord, And fareth oft to the war-field, and addeth fame to fame: And where'er are the great ones told of his sons shall the people name; But short was their day of harvest and their reaping of renown, And while men stood by to marvel they gained their latest crown.

So Sigmund alone abideth of all the Volsung seed, And the folk that the G.o.ds had fas.h.i.+oned lest the earth should lack a deed And he said: ”The tree was stalwart, but its boughs are old and worn.

Where now are the children departed, that amidst my life were born?