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BOOK I.

SIGMUND.

Of the dwelling of King Volsung, and the wedding of Signy his daughter.

There was a dwelling of Kings ere the world was waxen old;

Dukes were the door-wards there, and the roofs were thatched with gold:

Earls were the wrights that wrought it, and silver nailed its doors;

Earls' wives were the weaving-women, queens' daughters strewed its floors,

And the masters of its song-craft were the mightiest men that cast

The sails of the storm of battle adown the bickering blast.

There dwelt men merry-hearted, and in hope exceeding great

Met the good days and the evil as they went the way of fate:

There the Gods were unforgotten, yea whiles they walked with men,

Though e'en in that world's beginning rose a murmur now and again

Of the midward time and the fading and the last of the latter days,

And the entering in of the terror, and the death of the People's Praise.

Thus was the dwelling of Volsung, the King of the Midworld's Mark,

As a rose in the winter season, a candle in the dark;

And as in all other matters 'twas all earthly houses' crown,

And the least of its wall-hung shields was a battle-world's renown,

So therein withal was a marvel and a glorious thing to see,

For amidst of its midmost hall-floor sprang up a mighty tree,

That reared its blessings roofward, and wreathed the roof-tree dear

With the glory of the summer and the garland of the year.

I know not how they called it ere Volsung changed his life,

But his dawning of fair promise, and his noontide of the strife,

His eve of the battle-reaping and the garnering of his fame,

Have bred us many a story and named us many a name;

And when men tell of Volsung, they call that war-duke's tree,

That crownèd stem, the Branstock; and so was it told unto me.

So there was the throne of Volsung beneath its blossoming bower,

But high o'er the roof-crest red it rose 'twixt tower and tower,

And therein were the wild hawks dwelling, abiding the dole of their lord;

And they wailed high over the wine, and laughed to the waking sword.

Still were its boughs but for them, when lo, on an even of May

Comes a man from Siggeir the King with a word for his mouth to say:

"All hail to thee King Volsung, from the King of the Goths I come:

He hath heard of thy sword victorious and thine abundant home;

He hath heard of thy sons in the battle, the fillers of Odin's Hall;

And a word hath the west-wind blown him, (full fruitful be its fall!)

A word of thy daughter Signy the crown of womanhood:

Now he deems thy friendship goodly, and thine help in the battle good,

And for these will he give his friendship and his battle-aid again:

But if thou wouldst grant his asking, and make his heart full fain,

Then shalt thou give him a matter, saith he, without a price,

—Signy the fairer than fair, Signy the wiser than wise."

Now the message gladdened Volsung and his sons, but no word spake Signy, till the king asked her what her mind might be. Then said Signy, "I will wed the Goth king, and yet shall I rue my lot in his hall." And Volsung urged her with kind words to do nought against her will, but her mind was fixed, and she said she wrought but what the gods had fore-ordained. So the earl of Siggeir went his way with gifts and fair words, bidding the Goth king come ere a month was over to wed the white-handed Signy and bear her home.

So on Mid-Summer Even ere the undark night began

Siggeir the King of the Goth-folk went up from the bath of the swan

Unto the Volsung dwelling with many an Earl about;

There through the glimmering thicket the linkèd mail rang out,

And sang as mid the woodways sings the summer-hidden ford:

There were gold-rings God-fashioned, and many a Dwarf-wrought sword,

And many a Queen-wrought kirtle and many a written spear;

So came they to the acres, and drew the threshold near,

And amidst of the garden blossoms, on the grassy, fruit-grown land,

Was Volsung the King of the Wood-world with his sons on either hand;

Therewith down lighted Siggeir the lord of a mighty folk,

Yet showed he by King Volsung as the bramble by the oak,

Nor reached his helm to the shoulder of the least of Volsung's sons.

And so into the hall they wended, the Kings and their mighty ones;

And they dight the feast full glorious, and drank through the death of the day,

Till the shadowless moon rose upward, till it wended white away;

Then they went to the gold-hung beds, and at last for an hour or twain

Were all things still and silent, save a flaw of the summer rain.

But on the morrow noontide when the sun was high and bare,

More glorious was the banquet, and now was Signy there,

And she sat beside King Siggeir, a glorious bride forsooth;

Ruddy and white was she wrought as the fair-stained sea-beast's tooth,

But she neither laughed nor spake, and her eyes were hard and cold,

And with wandering side-long looks her lord would she behold.

That saw Sigmund her brother, the eldest Volsung son,

And oft he looked upon her, and their eyes met now and anon,

And ruth arose in his heart, and hate of Siggeir the Goth,

And there had he broken the wedding, but for plighted promise and troth.

But those twain were beheld of Siggeir, and he deemed of the Volsung kin,

That amid their might and their malice small honour should he win;

Yet thereof made he no semblance, but abided times to be,

And laughed out with the loudest, amid the hope and the glee.

And nought of all saw Volsung, as he dreamed of the coming glory,

And how the Kings of his kindred should fashion the round world's story.

So round about the Branstock they feast in the gleam of the gold;

And though the deeds of man-folk were not yet waxen old,

Yet had they tales for songcraft, and the blossomed garth of rhyme;

Tales of the framing of all things and the entering in of time

From the halls of the outer heaven; so near they knew the door.

Wherefore uprose a sea-king, and his hands that loved the oar

Now dealt with the rippling harp-gold, and he sang of the shaping of earth,

And how the stars were lighted, and where the winds had birth,

And the gleam of the first of summers on the yet untrodden grass.

But e'en as men's hearts were hearkening some heard the thunder pass

O'er the cloudless noontide heaven; and some men turned about

And deemed that in the doorway they heard a man laugh out.

Then into the Volsung dwelling a mighty man there strode,

One-eyed and seeming ancient, yet bright his visage glowed:

Cloud-blue was the hood upon him, and his kirtle gleaming-grey

As the latter morning sundog when the storm is on the way:

A bill he bore on his shoulder, whose mighty ashen beam

Burnt bright with the flame of the sea and the blended silver's gleam.

And such was the guise of his raiment as the Volsung elders had told

Was borne by their fathers' fathers, and the first that warred in the wold.

So strode he to the Branstock nor greeted any lord,

But forth from his cloudy raiment he drew a gleaming sword,

And smote it deep in the tree-hole, and the wild hawks overhead

Laughed 'neath the naked heaven as at last he spake and said:

"Earls of the Goths, and Volsungs, abiders on the earth,

Lo there amid the Branstock a blade of plenteous worth!

The folk of the war-wand's forgers wrought never better steel

Since first the burg of heaven uprose for man-folk's weal.

Now let the man among you whose heart and hand may shift

To pluck it from the oakwood e'en take it for my gift.

Then ne'er, but his own heart falter, its point and edge shall fail

Until the night's beginning and the ending of the tale.

Be merry Earls of the Goth-folk, O Volsung Sons be wise

And reap the battle-acre that ripening for you lies:

For they told me in the wild wood, I heard on the mountain side,

That the shining house of heaven is wrought exceeding wide,

And that there the Early-comers shall have abundant rest

While Earth grows scant of great ones, and fadeth from its best,

And fadeth from its midward and groweth poor and vile:—

All hail to thee King Volsung! farewell for a little while!"

So sweet his speaking sounded, so wise his words did seem,

That moveless all men sat there, as in a happy dream

We stir not lest we waken; but there his speech had end,

And slowly down the hall-floor, and outward did he wend;

And none would cast him a question or follow on his ways,

For they knew that the gift was Odin's, a sword for the world to praise.

But now spake Volsung the King: "Why sit ye silent and still?

Is the Battle-Father's visage a token of terror and ill?

Arise O Volsung Children, Earls of the Goths arise,

And set your hands to the hilts as mighty men and wise!

Yet deem it not too easy; for belike a fateful blade

Lies there in the heart of the Branstock for a fated warrior made."

Now therewith spake King Siggeir: "King Volsung give me a grace

To try it the first of all men, lest another win my place

And mere chance-hap steal my glory and the gain that I might win."

Then somewhat laughed King Volsung, and he said: "O Guest, begin;

Though herein is the first as the last, for the Gods have long to live,

Nor hath Odin yet forgotten unto whom the gift he would give."

Then forth to the tree went Siggeir, the Goth-folk's mighty lord,

And laid his hand on the gemstones, and strained at the glorious sword

Till his heart grew black with anger; and never a word he said

As he wended back to the high-seat: but Signy waxed blood-red

When he sat him adown beside her; and her heart was nigh to break

For the shame and the fateful boding: and therewith King Volsung spake:

"Thus comes back empty-handed the mightiest King of Earth,

And how shall the feeble venture? yet each man knows his worth;

And today may a great beginning from a little seed upspring

To o'erpass many a great one that hath the name of King:

So stand forth free and unfree; stand forth both most and least:

But first ye Earls of the Goth-folk, ye lovely lords we feast."

Upstood the Earls of Siggeir, and each man drew anigh

And deemed his time was coming for a glorious gain and high;

But for all their mighty shaping and their deeds in the battle-wood,

No looser in the Branstock that gift of Odin stood.

Then uprose Volsung's homemen, and the fell-abiding folk;

And the yellow-headed shepherds came gathering round the Oak,

And the searchers of the thicket and the dealers with the oar:

And the least and the worst of them all was a mighty man of war.

But for all their mighty shaping, and the struggle and the strain

Of their hands, the deft in labour, they tugged thereat in vain;

And still as the shouting and jeers, and the names of men and the laughter

Beat backward from gable to gable, and rattled o'er roof-tree and rafter,

Moody and still sat Siggeir; for he said: "They have trained me here

As a mock for their woodland bondsmen; and yet shall they buy it dear."