Part 23 (1/2)

Ah, if I thy soul might gladden! if thy lips might give me peace!

Then belike were we gladdest of all; for I love thee more than these.

The cup of goodwill that thou bearest, and the greeting thou wouldst say, Turn these to the cup of thy love, and the words of the troth-plighting day; The love that endureth for ever, and the never-dying troth, To face the Norns' undoing, and the G.o.ds amid their wrath.”

Then he taketh the cup and her hands, and she boweth meekly adown, Till she feels the arms of Sigurd round her trembling body thrown: A little while she doubteth in the mighty slayer's arms As Sigurd's love unhoped-for her barren bosom warms; A little while she struggleth with the fear of his mighty fame, That grows with her hope's fulfilment; ruth rises with wonder and shame; For the kindness grows in her soul, as forgotten anguish dies, And her heart feels Sigurd's sorrow in the breast whereon she lies; Then the fierce love overwhelms her, and as wax in the fervent fire All dies and is forgotten in the sweetness of desire; And close she clingeth to Sigurd, as one that hath gotten the best And fair things of the world she deemeth, as a place of infinite rest.

_Of the Wedding of Sigurd the Volsung._

That night sleeps Sigurd the Volsung, and awakes on the morrow-morn, And wots at the first but dimly what thing in his life hath been born: But the sun cometh up in the autumn, and the eve he remembered, And the word he hath given to Gudrun to love her to the death; And he longs for the Niblung maiden, that her love may cherish his heart, Lest e'en as a G.o.dhead banished he dwell in the world apart: The new sun smiteth his body as he leaps from the golden bed, And doeth on his raiment and is fair apparelled; Then he goes his ways through the chambers, and greeteth none at all Till he comes to the garth and the garden in the nook of the Niblung wall.

Now therein, mid the yellowing leaf.a.ge, and the golden blossoms spent, Alone and lovely and eager the white-armed Gudrun went; Swift then he hasteneth toward her, and she bideth his drawing near, And now in the morn she trembleth; for her love is blent with fear; And wonder is all around her, for she deemed till yestereve, When she saw the earls astonied, and the golden Sigurd grieve, That on some most mighty woman his joyful love was set; And love hath made her humble, and her race doth she forget, And her n.o.ble and mighty heart from the best of the Niblungs sprung, The sons of the earthly War-G.o.ds of the days when the world was young.

Yea she feareth her love and his fame, but she feareth his sorrow most, Lest he spake from a heart o'erladen and counted not the cost.

But lo, the love of his eyen, and the kindness of his face!

And joy her body burdens, and she trembleth in her place, And sinks in the arms that cherish with a faint and eager cry, And again on the bosom of Sigurd doth the head of Gudrun lie.

Fairer than yestereven doth Sigurd deem his love, And more her tender wooing and her shame his soul doth move; And his words of peace and comfort come easier forth from him, And woman's love seems wondrous amidst his trouble dim; Strange, sweet, to cling together! as oft and o'er again They crave and kiss rejoicing, and their hearts are full and fain.

Then a little while they sunder, and apart and anigh they stand, And Sigurd's eyes grow awful as he stretcheth forth his hand, And his clear voice saith: ”O Gudrun, now hearken while I swear That the sun shall die for ever and the day no more be fair.

Ere I forget thy pity and thine inmost heart of love!

Yea, though the Kings be mighty, and the G.o.ds be great above, I will wade the flood and the fire, and the waste of war forlorn, To look on the Niblung dwelling, and the house where thou wert born.”

Strange seemed the words to Sigurd that his gathering love compelled, And sweet and strange desire o'er his tangled trouble welled.

But bright flashed the eyes of Gudrun, and she said: ”King, as for me, If thou sawest the heart in my bosom, what oath might better thee?

Yet my words thy words shall cherish, as thy lips my lips have done.

--Herewith I swear, O Sigurd, that the earth shall hate the sun, And the year desire but darkness, and the blossoms shrink from day, Ere my love shall fail, beloved, or my longing pa.s.s away!”

Now they go from the garth and the garden, and hand in hand they come To the hall of the kings of aforetime, and the heart of the Niblung home.

There they go 'neath the cloudy roof-tree, and on to the high-seat fair, And there sitteth Giuki the ancient, and the guileful Grimhild is there, With the swart-haired Niblung brethren; and all these are exceeding fain, When they look on Sigurd and Gudrun, and the peace that enwrappeth the twain, For in her is all woe forgotten, sick longing little seen, And the shame that slayeth pity, and the self-scorn of a Queen; And all doubt in love is swallowed, and lovelier now is she Than a picture deftly painted by the craftsmen over sea; And her face is a rose of the morning by the night-tide framed about, And the long-stored love of her bosom from her eyes is leaping out.

But how fair is Sigurd the King that beside her beauty goes!

How lovely is he shapen, how great his stature shows!

How kind is the clasping right-hand, that hath smitten the battle acold!

How kind are the awful eyen that no foeman durst behold!

How sweet are the lips unsmiling, and the brow as the open day!

What man can behold and believe it, that his life shall pa.s.s away?

So he standeth proud by the high-seat, and the sun through the vast hall pours And the G.o.ds on the hangings waver as the wind goes by the doors, And abroad are the sounds of man-folk, and the eagles cry from the roof, And the ancient deeds of Sigmund seem fallen far aloof; And dead are the fierce days fallen, and the world is soft and sweet, As the Son of the Volsungs speaketh in n.o.ble words and meet:

”O hearken, King of the Niblungs, O ancient of the days!

Time was, when alone I wandered, and went on the wasteland ways, And sore my soul desired the harvest of the sword: Then I slew the great Gold-wallower, and won the ancient h.o.a.rd, And I turned to the dwellings of men; for I longed for measureless fame, And to do and undo with the Kings, and the pride of the Kings to tame; And I longed for the love of the King-folk; but who desired my soul, Who stayed my feet in his dwelling, who showed the weary the goal, Who drew me forth from the wastes, and the bitter kinless dearth, Till I came to the house of Giuki and the hallowed Niblung hearth?

Count up the deeds and forbearings, count up the words of the days That show forth the love of the Niblungs and the ancient people's praise.

Nay, number the waves of the sea, and the grains of the yellow sand, And the drops of the rain in the April, and the blades of the gra.s.sy land!

And what if one heart of the Niblungs had stored and treasured it all, And hushed, and moved but softly, lest one grain thereof should fall?

If she feared the barren garden, and the sunless fallow field?

How then should the spring-tide labour, and the summer toil to yield!

And so may the high G.o.ds help me, as I from this day forth Shall toil for her exalting to the height of worldly worth, If thou stretch thine hands forth, Giuki, and hail me for thy son: Then there as thou sitt'st in thy grave-mound when thine earthly day is done, Thou shalt hear of our children's children, and the crowned kin of kings, And the peace of the Niblung people in the day of better things; And then mayst thou be merry of the eve when Sigurd came, In the day of the deeds of the Niblungs and the blossom of their fame, Stretch forth thine hands to thy son: for I bid thy daughter to wife, And her life shall withhold my death-day, and her death shall stay my life.”