The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Story of Sigurd the Volsung, by William Morris, et al

THE STORY OF SIGURD THE VOLSUNG

Written In Verse By

WILLIAM MORRIS

With Portions Condensed Into Prose By

WINIFRED TURNER, B.A.

Late Assistant Mistress, Ware Grammar School For Girls And

HELEN SCOTT, M.A.

1922

BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION

By J. W. Mackail

William Morris, one of the most eminent imaginative writers of the Victorian age, differs from most other poets and men of letters in two ways—first, he did great work in many other things as well as in literature; secondly, he had beliefs of his own about the meaning and conduct of life, about all that men think and do and make, very different from those of ordinary people, and he carried out these views in his writings as well as in all the other work he did throughout his life.

He was born in 1834. His father, a member of a business firm in the City of London, was a wealthy man and lived in Essex, in a country house with large gardens and fields belonging to it, on the edge of Epping Forest. Until the age of thirteen Morris was at home among a large family of brothers and sisters. He delighted in the country life and especially in the Forest, which is one of the most romantic parts of England, and which he made the scene of many real and imaginary adventures. From fourteen to eighteen he was at school at Marlborough among the Wiltshire downs, in a country full of beauty and history, and close to another of the ancient forests of England, that of Savernake. He proceeded from school to Exeter College, Oxford, where he soon formed a close friendship with a remarkable set of young men of his own age; chief among these, and Morris's closest friend for the rest of his life, was Edward Burne-Jones, the painter. Study of the works of John Ruskin confirmed them in the admiration which they already felt for the life and art of the Middle Ages. In the summer vacation of 1855 the two friends went to Northern France to see the beautiful towns and splendid churches with which that country had been filled between the eleventh and the fifteenth centuries; and there they made up their minds that they cared for art more than for anything else, such as wealth or ease or the opinion of the world, and that as soon as they left Oxford they would become artists. By art they meant the making of beauty for the adornment and enrichment of human life, and as artists they meant to strive against all that was ugly or mean or untruthful in the life of their own time.

Art, as they understood it, is one single thing covering the whole of life but practised in many special forms that differ one from another. Among these many forms of art there are two of principal importance. One of the two is the art which is concerned with the making and adorning of the houses in which men and women live; that is to say, architecture, with all its attendant arts of decoration, including sculpture, painting, the designing and ornamenting of metal, wood and glass, carpets, paper-hangings, woven, dyed and embroidered cloths of all kinds, and all the furniture which a house may have for use or pleasure. The other is the art which is concerned with the making and adorning of stories in prose and verse. Both of these kinds of art were practised by Morris throughout his life. The former was his principal occupation; he made his living by it, and built up in it a business which alone made him famous, and which has had a great influence towards bringing more beauty into daily domestic life in England and in other countries also. His profession was thus that of a manufacturer, designer, and decorator. When he had to describe himself by a single word, he called himself a designer. But it is the latter branch of his art which principally concerns us now, the art of a maker and adorner of stories. He became famous in this kind of art also, both in prose and verse, as a romance-writer and a poet. But he spoke of it as play rather than work, and although he spent much time and great pains on it, he regarded it as relaxation from the harder and more constant work of his life, which was carrying on the business of designing, painting, weaving, dyeing, printing and other occupations of that kind. In later life he also gave much of his time to political and social work, with the object of bringing back mankind into a path from which they had strayed since the end of the Middle Ages, and creating a state of society in which art, by the people and for the people, a joy to the maker and the user, might be naturally, easily, and universally produced.

Even as a boy Morris had been noted for his love of reading and inventing tales; but he did not begin to write any until he had been for a couple of years at Oxford. His earliest poems and his earliest written prose tales belong to the same year, 1855, in which he determined to make art his profession. The first of either that he published appeared in the Oxford and Cambridge Magazine, which was started and managed by him and his friends in 1856. In 1858, after he had left Oxford, he brought out a volume of poems called, after the title of the first poem in the book, "The Defence of Guenevere." Soon afterwards he founded, with some of his old Oxford friends and others whom he had made in London, among whom Dante Gabriel Rossetti was the leading spirit, the firm of Morris and Company, manufacturers and decorators. His business, in which he was the principal and finally the sole partner, took up the main part of his time. He had also married, and built himself a beautiful small house in Kent, the decoration of which went busily on for several years. Among all these other occupations he almost gave up writing stories, but never ceased reading and thinking about them. In 1865 he came back to live in London, where, being close to his work, he had more leisure for other things; and between 1865 and 1870 he wrote between thirty and forty tales in verse, containing not less than seventy or eighty thousand lines in all. The longest of these tales, "The Life and Death of Jason," appeared in 1867. It is the old Greek story of the ship Argo and the voyage in quest of the Golden Fleece. Twenty-five other tales are included in "The Earthly Paradise," published in three parts between 1868 and 1870.

During these years Morris learned Icelandic, and his next published works were translations of some of the Icelandic sagas, writings composed from six to nine hundred years ago, and containing a mass of legends, histories and romances finely told in a noble language. These translations were followed in 1876 by his great epic poem, "Sigurd the Volsung and the Fall of the Niblungs." In that poem he retold a story of which an Icelandic version, the "Volsunga Saga," written in the twelfth century, is one of the world's masterpieces. It is the great epic of Northern Europe, just as the "Iliad" and "Odyssey" of Homer are the chief epics of ancient Greece, and the "Æneid" of Virgil the chief epic of the Roman Empire. Morris's love for these great stories of ancient times led him to rewrite the tale of the Volsungs and Niblungs, which he reckoned the finest of them all, more fully and on a larger scale than it had ever been written before. He had already, in 1875, translated the "Æneid" into verse, and some ten years later, in 1886-87, he also made a verse translation of the "Odyssey." In 1873 he had also written another very beautiful poem, "Love is Enough," containing the story of three pairs of lovers, a countryman and country-woman, an emperor and empress, and a prince and peasant girl. This poem was written in the form of a play, not of a narrative.

To write prose was at first for Morris more difficult than to write poetry. Verse came naturally to him, and he composed in prose only with much effort until after long practice. Except for his early tales in the Oxford and Cambridge Magazine and his translations of Icelandic sagas, he wrote little but poetry until the year 1882. About that time he began to give lectures and addresses, and wrote them in great numbers during the latter part of his life. A number of them were collected and published in two volumes called "Hopes and Fears for Art" and "Signs of Change," and many others have been published separately. He thus gradually accustomed himself to prose composition. For several years he was too busy with other things, which he thought more important, to spend time on storytelling; but his instinct forced itself out again, and in 1886 he began the series of romances in prose or in mixed prose and verse which went on during the next ten years. The chief of these are, "A Dream of John Ball," "The House of Wolfings," "The Roots of the Mountains," "News from Nowhere," "The Glittering Plain," "The Wood beyond the World," "The Well at the World's End," "The Water of the Wondrous Isles," and "The Sundering Flood." During the same years he also translated, out of Icelandic and old French books, more of the stories which he had long known and admired. "The Sundering Flood" was written in his last illness, and finished by him within a few days of his death, in the autumn of 1896.

INTRODUCTION TO SIGURD

By The Editors

The story of Sigurd is important to English people not only for its wondrous beauty, but also on account of its great age, and of what it tells us about our own Viking ancestors, who first knew the story.

The tale was known all over the north of Europe, in Denmark, in Germany, in Norway and Sweden, and in Iceland, hundreds of years before it was written down. Sometimes different names were given to the characters, sometimes the events of the story were slightly altered, but in the main points it was one and the same tale.

If we look at a map of Europe showing the nations as they were rather more than a thousand years ago, we see the names of Saxons, Goths, Danes, and Frisians marked on the lands around the Baltic Sea. Those who bore these names were the makers of the tale of Sigurd. The name of the Saxons is, of course, the best known to us, and next in importance come the people we call Danes, or Northmen, or Vikings, who attacked the coasts of the Saxon kingdoms in England. The Saxons came from part of the land that is now known as Germany, and the Vikings from Denmark and from Scandinavia.

A third important tribe was that of the Goths, who dwelt first in South Sweden, and then in Germany.

All these people resembled one another in their way of life, in their religion, and in their ideas of what deeds were good and what were evil. Their lands were barren—too mountainous or too cold to bring forth fruitful crops, and their homes were not such as would tempt men never to leave them. So, though they built their little groups of wooden houses in the valleys of their lands, and made fields and pastures about them, these were often left to the care of the women and the feeble men, while the strong men made raids over the sea to other countries, where they engaged in the fighting which they loved, and whence they brought back plunder to their homes. North, South, East, and West they went, till few parts of Europe had not learnt to know and fear them.

Their ships were long and narrow, driven often by oars as well as sails, and outside them, along the bulwarks, the crew hung their round shields made of yellow wood from the lime-tree. The men wore byrnies or breast-plates, and helmets, and they were armed with swords, long spears, or heavy battle-axes. They were enemies none could afford to despise, for they had great stature and strength of body, joined to such fierceness and delight in war that they held a man disgraced if he died peacefully at home. Moreover, they knew nothing of mercy to the conquered.

Courage, not only to fight, but also to bear suffering without impatience or complaint, and the virtue of faithfulness were the qualities they most honoured. To be wanting in courage was disgraceful in their eyes, but it was equally disgraceful to refuse to help kinsfolk, to lie, to deceive, or to desert a chief.

If they put their enemies to death with fearful tortures, they did not treat them more severely than the traitors they discovered among themselves, and if they had no pity for those they conquered, yet they knew well how to admire great leaders, and how to serve them faithfully. But we can best realise their ideas on these matters by considering their religion and their stories.

They worshipped one chief god, Odin, and other gods and goddesses who were his children. Odin was often called All-father because he was the helper and friend of human beings, and appeared on earth in the form of an old man, "one-eyed and seeming ancient," with cloud-blue hood and grey cloak. He had courage, strength, and wondrous wisdom, for he knew all events that happened in the world, and he understood the speech of birds, and all kinds of charms and magic arts. Men served him by brave fighting in a good cause, and when they perished in battle he received their souls in his dwelling of Valhalla in the city of Asgard, where they spent each day in warfare, and where at evening the dead were revived, the wounded healed, and all feasted together in Odin's palace. There they fed upon the flesh of the boar Saehrimner, which was renewed as fast as it was eaten. Certain maidens called Valkyrie, or Choosers of the Slain, were Odin's messengers whom he sent forth into the battles of the world to find the warriors whom he had appointed to die, and to bring them to Valhalla.

In the story of Sigurd Odin has a very important part to play, but for the understanding of the tale it is necessary to know something about another of the gods. This is Loki, who, though sprung from the race of the giants, yet lived with the sons of Odin in Asgard, behaving sometimes as their trusty helper, but more often as their cunning enemy. He caused much wretchedness, not only among the gods, but on earth also, for he delighted in the sight of misery. His vices were all those most hateful to the Norse people, for he was before all things a liar, a deceiver, a faith-breaker, a skilful worker of mischief by guile instead of by fair fight. There are many stories of his cunning thefts, of the miseries he wrought among his companions, and of his envy of the beloved god Balder, whom he slew by a trick. His children were terrible monsters, as hated as himself. Yet, strange to say, Loki was Odin's companion in many of his adventures.

The gods inhabited Asgard, a city standing on a high mountain in the middle of the world. Odin's palace of Valhalla was there, and other palaces for his sons and daughters. All round Asgard lay Midgard, or the ordinary world of men and women. Its caves and waste places were inhabited by dwarfs, whom Odin had banished from the light of day for various ill deeds. They were a spiteful and cunning race, jealous of mankind, and eager to recover their lost power. Their strength lay in their wondrous skill in handicraft, for they could forge more deadly weapons, and fashion more lovely jewels than any made by the hands of men. But, though possessed of wisdom, they had no spirit of kindness, no respect for right, and no dislike of wrong.

Around Midgard lay the sea, and beyond that Utgard, a hideous frozen country inhabited by giants, enemies of the gods.

But this arrangement of the world was only for a season. The gods themselves looked forward to a time of defeat and death, when Asgard should perish in flames and the world with it, and the sun and moon should be darkened, and they themselves should be slain. This great day was called Ragnarok, or sometimes the Twilight of the Gods. Then Loki would gather giants and monsters to a great battle against the gods, who would slay their enemies, but who would themselves fall in the struggle. The sea would drown the earth, the stars would fall, and all things would pass away.

This terrible fate the gods awaited with calm and cheerfulness, showing even greater courage than in their many deeds of war. They had to submit to this fate, for there were three beings even greater than they. These were the Norns, deciders of the fate of gods and men alike. They were three giant maidens who dwelt by a sacred, wisdom-giving fountain, and who controlled the lives of men, giving to each sickness and health, success and failure and death when they would. No man or god might escape what the Norns decreed for him.

Many stories of these gods, together with tales of famous men, were told among the northern peoples. These stories were passed on from one to another by word of mouth, till they grew much longer and fuller, and the happening of certain historical events helped to take them from country to country.

As we have seen, all the races of the North were warlike and eager for adventure, and so when trouble came upon them in their own homes, they readily took to the sea to plunder the coasts or to conquer other lands. Between 800 and 900 A.D., when the Danes were invading England, many were driven from Norway because they refused to submit to a king called Harold Fairhair, and when he pursued them to the Orkney and Faroe Islands they took refuge on the coasts of Iceland. There they settled, built themselves wooden houses, planted such crops as would grow in that bleak land, and founded a commonwealth. Little by little they left the old Viking life, and it lived only in their songs and stories.

They had come to Iceland with a vast stock of tales in poetry, which were related or sung by professional poets, called skalds, at all kinds of feasts and gatherings. The skalds arranged and improved the old stories, but they were not written down until about the time of our King Stephen, when some unknown writer collected them into one book called the Elder Edda. Very soon after this another book was written containing the same stories in prose and called the Younger or Prose Edda. In this way many of the old poems, and a great many stories containing much information about the religion which the people took with them to Iceland, have been preserved.

But it was from neither of the Eddas that William Morris took his story of Sigurd.

All through the period from 800 A.D. till about the time of Henry III. of England, the skalds had been re-telling many of the poetic stories in prose, and as the people grew more civilised, one tale after another was written down in its new form.

These prose tales were called Sagas, and among the very greatest is the Volsunga Saga, or Story of Sigurd. It is a tale which has been told in other lands besides Iceland. We read part of the same story in the Old English poem of Beowulf, and in Germany it was made into a great poem called the Nibelungenlied. The German musician, Richard Wagner, set it to music in a famous series of operas called the Nibelungen Ring. But his tale differs in many points from that contained in Morris's poem, for Morris chose the old saga as it was written in Iceland, not the German story. On this he founded his poem, adding much beautiful description, and greatly lengthening the whole.

The story deals first with a certain King Volsung, to whose son, Sigmund, Odin presented a magic sword.

But Siggeir, the jealous king of the Goths, slew Volsung, and took Sigmund prisoner that he might have the sword for himself. Only after many toils and perils did Sigmund win it back and reign in his father's kingdom. At last in his old age he fell in battle and the sword of Odin was shattered. But his wife, Queen Hiordis, kept the fragments for the son who was born to her soon after in Denmark, whither she fled for safety. This son of Sigmund and Hiordis was Sigurd the Volsung. He was brought up in Denmark and grew strong and beautiful, brave, kind of heart, and utterly truthful in word and deed.

When he became a man he longed to win fame and kingship by mighty deeds, and when his tutor told him of a great dragon that guarded a hoard of ill-gotten gold in the mountains, he resolved to kill it. So the fragments of Odin's sword were forged into a new blade, and Sigurd slew the dragon and took the gold, but with it he brought on himself a curse which had been put upon the treasure by the dwarf from whom it had been stolen.

Sigurd then found and wakened Brynhild, a maiden who lay in an enchanted sleep upon a high mountain. They loved one another, and Sigurd gave her a ring from the dragon's treasure, promising to return and marry her.

Then the curse led him to join with the fierce and treacherous Niblungs or Cloudy People. Their king and his mother grew jealous when they saw Sigurd more mighty and more beloved than themselves, and by enchantments they caused him to forget Brynhild, to wed the princess Gudrun, and at last to aid the Niblung king, Gunnar, to win Brynhild for his own wife.

Then the curse of the gold brought death to many, for Sigurd and Brynhild discovered all the treachery of the Niblungs, who, in their anger, slew Sigurd, and Brynhild killed herself that she might not live and sorrow for him.

Such is the story of Sigurd as it was told a thousand years ago in distant Iceland, and as it is retold in this poem by William Morris.

THE STORY OF
SIGURD THE VOLSUNG.

BOOK I.

SIGMUND.

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

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.

Then the feast sped on the fairer, far into the night, but amidst the mirth Sigmund and Signy were sad at heart. And before the sun was risen next day Signy came to her father in secret and begged him to stay in his own country rather than trust the guileful heart and murder-loving hand of Siggeir. But Volsung answered that he must go to be Siggeir's guest, for he could not break his pledged word through fear of peril. So on the morrow the smooth-speeched Siggeir departed with Signy, and when two months were passed Volsung made ready to visit them.

How the Volsungs fared to the Land of the Goths, and of the fall of King Volsung.

Of the ending of all Volsung's Sons save Sigmund only, and of how he abideth in the wild wood.

They joined battle again, but the fight grew feeble after Volsung fell, and his earls were struck down one by one. Last of all, his sons were borne to earth and carried captive to the hall, where Siggeir awaited them, for he himself had feared to face the Volsung swords.

Then he would have slain them at once without torture, but Signy besought him that they might breathe the earthly air a day or two before their death, and he listened to her, for he saw how he might thus give them greater pain. He bade his men lead them to a glade in the forest and fetter them to the mightiest tree that grew there. So the ten Volsungs were fettered with iron to a great oak, and on the morrow Siggeir's woodmen told him sweet tidings, for beasts of the wood had devoured two and left their bones in the fetters. So it befell every night till the woodmen brought word that nothing remained of the king's foemen save their bones in the fetters that had bound them.

Now a watch had been set on Signy lest she should send help to her brethren, but henceforth no man hindered her from going out to the wood. So that night she came to the glade in the forest, and saw in the midst of it a mighty man who was toiling to dig a grave in the greensward.

Then said Sigmund:

"We lay fettered to the tree and at midnight there came from the thicket two mighty wood-wolves, and falling on my brethren Gylfi and Geirmund, they devoured them in their bonds, and turned again to the forest. Night after night, my sister, this befell, till I was left alone with our brother Sigi to await the wood-beasts. Then came midnight, and one of the wolves fell upon Sigi and the other turned on me. But I met it with snarling like its own, and my teeth gripped its throat, and my hands strove with the fetters till they burst. So I slew the beast with my irons, but when I looked, Sigi lay dead, and the other wolf had fled again to the thicket. Then I lay hid till Siggeir's woodmen had looked on the place and departed with their tidings, and as I beheld them I knew that pity was killed in my heart, and that henceforward I should live but to avenge me on him who hath so set the gods at nought." Then Signy spake noble words of comfort, saying: "I wot well that Siggeir shall pay the due price of his deeds, though the vengeance may tarry long, and I wot also that thy life shall yet know gladness. Bear a stout heart, therefore, to meet the waiting time, and make thee a lair in the woods whence thou mayest fall on men of the Goth-folk, and win what thy life needeth. As for me, I will see thy face once again ere many days are past to wot where thou dwellest and then must we meet no more."

And so saying, she kissed him and departed, but Sigmund turned in the dawn-light, and sought a wood-lair as she had bidden him.

Of the fostering of Sinfiotli, Signy's son, and of the slaying of Siggeir the Goth-king.

Now Sigmund dwelt long in the wild-wood, abiding in a strong cave deep hidden in a thicket by the river-side.

And now and again he fell upon the folk of Siggeir as they journeyed, and slew them, and thus he had war-gear and gold as much as he would. Also he became a master of masters in the smithying craft, and the folk who beheld the gleam of his forge by night, deemed that a king of the Giants was awakened from death to dwell there, and they durst not wander near the cavern.

So passed the years till on a springtide morning Signy sent forth to Sigmund a damsel leading her eldest son, a child of ten summers, and bearing a word of her mouth to bid him foster the child for his helper, if he should prove worthy and bold-hearted. And Sigmund heeded her words and fostered the child for the space of three months even though he could give no love to a son of Siggeir.

At last he was minded to try the boy's courage, to which end he set a deadly ash-grey adder in the meal-sack, and bade the child bake bread. But he feared when he found something that moved in the meal and had not courage to do the task. Then would Sigmund foster him no longer, but thrust him out from the woods to return to his father's hall.

So ten years won over again, and Signy sent another son to the wild-wood, and the lad was called Sinfiotli. Sigmund thrust him into many dangers, and burdened him with heavy loads, and he bore all passing well.

Now after a year Sigmund deemed that the time for his testing was come, and once again he set an adder in the meal-sack and bade the lad bake bread. And the boy feared not the worm, but kneaded it with the dough and baked all together. So Sigmund cherished him as his own son, and he grew strong and valiant and loved Sigmund as his father.

Now Sigmund began to ponder how he might at last take vengeance on Siggeir, and gladly did Sinfiotli hear him, for all his love was given to Sigmund, so that he no longer deemed himself the Goth-king's son.

At last when the long mirk nights of winter were come, Sigmund and his foster-son went their way to the home of Siggeir and sought to lurk therein. Then Sinfiotli led the way to a storehouse where lay great wine-casks, and whence they could see the lighted feast-hall, and hear the clamour of Siggeir's folk. There they had to abide the time when the feasters should be hushed in sleep. Long seemed the hours to Sinfiotli, but Sigmund was calm and clear-eyed.

Then it befell that two of Queen Signy's youngest-born children threw a golden toy hither and thither in the feast-hall, and at last it rolled away among the wine-casks till it lay at Sigmund's feet. So the children followed it, and coming face to face with those lurkers, they fled back to the feast-hall. And Sigmund and his foster-son saw all hope was ended, for they heard the rising tumult as men ran to their weapons; so they made ready to go forth and die in the hall. Then on came the battle around the twain, and but short is the tale to tell, for Sinfiotli slipped on the blood-stained floor and the shield wall encompassed Sigmund, and so they were both hoppled strait and fast.

The Goth-folk washed their hall of blood and got them to slumber, but Siggeir lay long pondering what dire death he might bring on his foes.

Now at the first grey dawning Siggeir's folk dight a pit and it had two chambers with a sundering stone in the midst. Then they brought the Volsung kindred and set them therein, one in each chamber, that they might abide death alone, and yet in hearing of one another's woe. And over the top the thralls laid roofing turfs, but so lingering were their hands that eve drew on ere the task was finished. Then stole Signy forth in the dusk, and spake the thralls fair, and gave them gold that they might hold their peace of what she did. And when they gainsaid her nought she drew out something wrapped in wheat straw, and cast it down swiftly into the pit where Sinfiotli lay, and departed.

Sinfiotli at first deemed it food, but after a space Sigmund heard him laugh aloud for joy, for within the wrappings lay the sword of the Branstock. And Sinfiotli cried out the joyous tidings to his foster-father, and tarried not to set the point to the stone that sundered them, and lo, the blade pierced through, and Sigmund grasped the point. Then sawed Sigmund and Sinfiotli together till they cleft the stone, and they hewed full hard at the roofing, till they cast the turfs aside, and their hearts were gladdened with the sight of the starry heaven.

Forth they leapt, and no words were needed of whither they should wend, but they fell on King Siggeir's night-watch and slew them sleeping, and made haste to find the store of winter faggots, wherewith they built a mighty bale about the hall of Siggeir. They set a torch to the bale, and Sigmund gat him to one hall door and Sinfiotli to the other, and now the Goth-folk awoke to their last of days.

Then cried Siggeir to his thralls and offered them joyous life-days and plenteous wealth if they would give him life, deeming that they had fired the hall in hatred. But there came a great voice crying from the door, "Nay, no toilers are we; wealth is ours when we list, but now our hearts are set to avenge our kin; now hath the murder seed sprung and borne its fruit; now the death-doomed and buried work this deed; now doom draweth nigh thee at the hand of Sigmund the Volsung, and Sinfiotli, Signy's son."

Then the voice cried again, "Come ye forth, women of the Goths, and thou, O Signy, my sister, come forth to seek the boughs of the Branstock." So fled the white-faced women from the fire, and passed scatheless by Sinfiotli's blade, but Signy came not at all. Then the earls of Siggeir strove to burst from the hall, but ever the two glaives at the doorways drove them back to the fire.

And, lo, now came Signy in queenly raiment, and stood before Sinfiotli and said, "O mightiest son, this is the hour of our parting, and fain am I of slumber and the end of my toil now I have seen this day. And the blither do I leave thee because thy days on earth shall be but few; I charge thee make thy life glorious, and leave a goodly tale."

She kissed him and turned to Sigmund, and her face in the dawn-light seemed to him fair and ruddy as in the days when they twain dwelt by the Branstock. And she said, "My youth was happy, yet this hour is the crown of my life-days which draw nigh their ending. And now I charge thee, Sigmund, when thou sittest once more a mighty king beneath the boughs of the Branstock, that thou remember how I loved the Volsung name, and spared not to spend all that was mine for its blossoming." Then she kissed him and turned again, and the dawn brightened at her back, and the fire shone red before her, and so for the last time was Signy beheld by the eyes of men. Thereafter King Siggeir's roof-tree bowed earthward, and the mighty walls crashed down, and so that dark murder-hall lay wasted, and its glory was swept away.

How Sigmund cometh to the Land of the Volsungs again, and of the death of Sinfiotli his Son.

But far and wide went Sinfiotli through the earth, mowing the war swathe and wasting the land, and passing but little time in song and laughter in his father's hall. So went his days in warfare and valour, and yet his end was not glorious, for he drank of the poisoned cup given him by the sister of a warrior he had rightly slain.

None might come nigh Sigmund in his anguish as he lifted the head of his fallen foster-child, and then swiftly bare him from the hall. On he went through dark thicket and over wind-swept heath, past the foot-hills and the homes of the deer, till he came to a great rushing water, whereon was a white-sailed boat, manned by a mighty man, "one-eyed and seeming ancient." This mighty one told Sigmund he had been bidden to waft a great king over the water, and bade him lay his burden on board, but when Sigmund would have followed he could see neither ship nor man.

But Sigmund went back to his throne, and behaved himself as a king, listening to his people's plaints, and dealing out justice.

Of the last battle of King Sigmund, and the death of him.

"Often have I told thee that thou shouldst wed only the man thou wouldst. Now it hath come to pass that two kings desire thee."

And she swiftly rose to her feet as she said, "And which be they?"

How King Sigmund the Volsung was laid in mound on the sea-side of the Isle-realm.

How Queen Hiordis is known; and how she abideth in the house of Elf the son of the Helper.

Then Elf asked of the two women where they would go, and they prayed that he would take them to his land, where they dwelt for long in all honour.

But the old queen, the mother of Elf, was indeed a woman wise above many, and fain would she know why the less noble of the two was dressed the more richly and why the handmaid gave always wiser counsel than her mistress. So she bade her son to speak suddenly and to take them unawares.

Then he asked the gold-clad one how she knew in the dark winter night that the dawn was near. She answered that ever in her youth she awoke at the dawn to follow her daily work, and always was she wont to drink of whey, and now, though the times were changed, she still woke athirst near the dawning.

To Elf it seemed strange that a fair queen in her youth had need to arise to follow the plough in the dark of the winter morning, and turning to the handmaid he asked of her the same question. She replied that in her youth her father had given her the gold ring she still wore, and which had the magic power of growing cold as the hours neared daybreak, and such was her dawning sign.

Then did Elf know of their exchange, and he told Hiordis that long had he loved her and felt pity for her sorrow, and that he would make her his wife. So that night she sat on the high-seat with the crown on her head, and dreamt of what had been and what was to be.

BOOK II.

REGIN.

Of the birth of Sigurd the son of Sigmund.

In this land of the Helper and Elf, his son, dwelt Hiordis, and here her son, the last of the Volsungs, was born. The babe had eyes of such wondrous brightness that the folk shrank from him, while they rejoiced over his birth, but his mother spake to the babe as to one who might understand, and she told him of Sigmund and Volsung, of their wars and their troubles and their joys. Then she gave him to her maids to bear him to the kings of the land that they might rejoice with her.

Sigurd getteth to him the horse that is called Greyfell.

One day did Regin tell Sigurd of deeds done in the past by kings both bold and wise, and the lad longed, too, to do the like, and his bright eyes glowed with desire. And Regin told him that he should follow his Volsung fathers and roam far and wide, leaving the peace-lovers and home-abiders who had cherished his youth.

This roused Sigurd's wrath, for he would have nought said against those who had reared him, but Regin bade him ask for one of the horses of Gripir, and banished his anger by a song of the deeds of the Choosers of the Slain. Before the song was finished Sigurd went to King Elf and asked that he might have authority to seek a horse from King Gripir.

Regin telleth Sigurd of his kindred, and of the Gold that was accursed from ancient days.

The three wandered over the earth till they came to a mighty river, haunted for long by Otter, by reason of its great wealth of fish. There he lay on the bank, and as he watched the fish in the water his shape was changed to that of a true otter, and he began to devour a golden trout. Two of the gods would have passed without stay, but in the otter Loki saw an enemy, and straightway killed him, rejoicing over his dead body.

As night fell the three gods came to a great hall, wondrously wrought and carved, with golden hangings and forests of pillars. In the midst of the hall sat a king on an ivory throne, and his garments were made of purple from the sea. Kind welcome he gave to the wanderers, and there they feasted and delighted in music and song; but even as they drank and made merry they knew they were caught in the snare.

The king's welcome changed to scornful laughter, and thus he spoke: "Truly are ye gods, but ye are come to people who want you not. Before ye were known to us, still was the winter cold, and the summer warm, and still could we find meat and drink. I am Reidmar, and ye come straight from the slaying of Reidmar's son. Shall I not then take the vengeance I will? Unless, indeed, ye give me the treasure I covet, and then shall ye go your way. This is my sentence. Choose ye which ye will."

Then spake the wise Allfather and prayed Reidmar to unsay his word, and cease to desire the gold. But Reidmar the Wise, and Fafnir the Lord, and Regin the Worker cried aloud in their wrath:—

Then Regin loosed the shackles of the gods and they departed into the night, but Odin stayed in the doorway and thus he spake: "Why do ye thus desire treasure and take sorrow to yourselves? Know ye not that I was before your fathers' fathers, and that I can foresee your fate, and the end of the gold ye covet? I am the Wise One who ordereth all."

Then they went, but Regin afterwards often recalled Odin's words and the evening filled with the gleam of the gold, but little cared he then, so well he loved the gold. And he prayed his father to keep the treasure, but give a little unto him and Fafnir for the help they had given him that day.

His father in no wise heeded his words, but sat ever on his ivory throne, staring moodily at the gold. But Fafnir grew fierce and grim as he watched him.

Of the forging of the Sword that is called The Wrath of Sigurd.

So Regin welded together the shards of Sigmund's sword, and wrought the Wrath of Sigurd, whose hilts were great and along whose edge ran a living flame so that men thought it like sunlight and lightning mingled. Then on Greyfell, with the Wrath girt by his side, Sigurd rode to the hall of Gripir, who told him of deeds to be and of the fate that would befall him. In no wise was Sigurd troubled, but smiled as a happy child, and together they talked of the deeds of the kings of the Earth, of the wonders of Heaven, and of the Queen of the Sea.

And Sigurd told Gripir that he indeed was wise above all men, but for himself had the Wrath been fashioned, and he was ready to ride to the Glittering Heath. So they took leave of one another, and as the sky grew blood-red in the West, and the birds were flying homeward, Sigurd drew near to Regin's dwelling.

Sigurd rideth to the Glittering Heath.

Sigurd slayeth Fafnir the Serpent.

Sigurd slayeth Regin the Master of Masters on the Glittering Heath.

And six of the eagles cried to Sigurd not to tarry before the feast, and they urged him to kill Regin, who had planned Fafnir's death that he alone might live and fashion the world after his evil will.

How Sigurd took to him the Treasure of the Elf Andvari.

So Sigurd ate of the heart of Fafnir, and as he ate the longing to be gone to mighty deeds grew great, and he leapt on Greyfell and sought the home of the Dweller amid the Gold on the edge of the heath. He strode through the doorway, and before him lay golden armour, golden coins, and golden sands from rivers that none but the Dwarfs could mine. But more wonderful than all other treasures were the Helm of Aweing, and the Hauberk all of gold, while on top of the midmost heap, gleaming like the brightest star in the sky, lay the ring of Andvari.

Sigurd put on the helm and the hauberk, and dragged out gold wherewith he loaded Greyfell till the cloud-grey horse shone, while the eagles ever bade him bring forth the treasure, and let the gold shine in the open. And as the stars paled and the dawn grew clearer, Sigurd and Greyfell passed swiftly and lightly towards the west.

How Sigurd awoke Brynhild upon Hindfell.

Then the maiden told him that she had been the handmaid of the All-father, but that she grew too proud, and Odin had sent her to Hindfell, where the sleep thorn pierced her that she might sleep till she found the fearless heart she would wed. Such a one had she found now, and many were the words of prophetic wisdom and warning that fell from her lips on the ears of Sigurd.

But many though they were they were not enough for him, who prayed her to speak with him more of Wisdom.

So together they sat on the side of Hindfell and talked of all that is and can be, and then together they climbed the mountain, till beneath them they saw the kingdoms of the earth stretching far away, and Brynhild bade him look down on her home, saying:

BOOK III.

BRYNHILD.

Of Sigurd's riding to the Niblungs.

Now Brynhild and Sigurd left Hindfell, and Brynhild went to dwell in her sister's house, but Sigurd abode not long in the land of Lymdale, for his love urged him to great adventures wherein he might win glory befitting the man who should wed so noble a woman as Brynhild.

So it befell one day in summer that he dight himself in the Helm of Aweing and the Mail-coat all of gold, and girded the Wrath to his side to ride forth again. And on his saddle he bound the red rings of Fafnir's Treasure.

Then he kissed the ancient King Heimir, and hailed the folk of the land who came to give him god-speed.

Then Sigurd's heart was glad as he beheld the city, and after a while he came to a gate-way set in the northern wall, and the gate was long and dark as a sea-cave. But no man stayed him as he rode through the dusk to the inner court-yard, and saw the lofty roof of the hall before him, cold now and grey like a very cloud, for the sun was fully set. But in the towers watch-men were calling one to another. To them he cried, saying:—

Then all gave him greeting as one who should be their fellow in mighty deeds, and the fair-armed Gudrun, Giuki's daughter, brought him a cup of welcome, and that night the Niblungs feasted in gladness of heart.

Of Sigurd's warfaring in the company of the Niblungs, and of his great fame and glory.

So Sigurd abode with the Niblungs all through summer and harvest time till with the stark midwinter came tidings of war. Then the earls of Giuki donned dusky hauberks and led forth their bands from the fortress, and the fair face and golden gear of Sigurd shone among those swart-haired warriors.

They fell on the cities of the plains, but none might resist the valour of Sigurd, and the Niblungs turned in triumph from the war, bringing rich spoil. So all that winter Sigurd fared to war with them and grew greater in glory and more beloved of all men, but ever the thoughts of his heart turned to Lymdale and to Brynhild who awaited him there.

Of the Cup of evil drink that Grimhild the Wise-wife gave to Sigurd.

Now Gudrun the daughter of Giuki beheld Sigurd's glory and knew the kindness of his heart, and set her love on him, not knowing that all his thoughts were given to Brynhild. So Sigurd, seeing her sad and in no wise guessing the cause of her grief, strove to comfort her with kindly words, but her mood was still unchanged.

Then Grimhild the Queen, who was a witch-wife and a woman of crafty mind, marked the love of Gudrun for Sigurd, and marked moreover how his power and honour in the land would soon be greater than that of her own sons. Therefore she cast about for some shift that might bind Sigurd to serve with the Niblungs all his life-days.

Now it befell one night that Sigurd had returned from warring and sat on the high-seat to sup with the Niblung kings. His heart was merry with victory and ever he thought of Hindfell and of Lymdale and the love of Brynhild. The people waxed joyful, and the hangings whereon glowed figures of the gods were stirred with their song and shouting till Giuki called on Sigurd to take the harp and sing of deeds agone. Then all men hearkened, hushed and happy, while Sigurd struck the strings and sang of his mighty kin, of Volsung, of Signy, and of Sigmund, their deeds and noble deaths. At last the tale was ended and he fell silent thinking still of Brynhild.

Now came Grimhild bearing him a cup of wine and speaking fair words of praise, but in the wine she had mingled a fatal witch-drink. So she stood by Sigurd and said:—

Now after Sigurd took the witch-drink came a great hush upon the feast-hall for a space. But Grimhild was fain of that hour and cried to the scalds for music, and they hastened to strike the harp, but no joy mingled with the sounds and no man was moved to singing.

No word spake Sigurd till the feast was over; then he strode out alone from the hall and the folk fell back before him. So he took a steed and all that night he rode alone in the deedless dark, and all the morrow, very heavy at heart yet knowing no cause for grief, and remembering all things save Brynhild.

At last he came again at sunset to the Niblung gates, and there came forth Giuki and Grimhild and the Niblung brethren with fair words of greeting, but in the doorway Gudrun stood and wept. So Sigurd entered with them, yet he knew that a flood of sorrow had come on his life-days and that no more might he feel the joy he had known aforetime in the Niblung hall. Howbeit, when he looked on the people and saw them in fear at his trouble, the kindness of his heart was kindled, and thrusting the heavy sorrow aside, he lifted his head and spake wise words of good cheer so that the folk looking on him were comforted.

Of the Wedding of Sigurd the Volsung.

But Gudrun knew Sigurd's heart and was sorrowful because of his grief and her great love for him, and when Grimhild bade her carry him wine, she arose and took the cup but could find no word to speak for anguish. And Sigurd looking on her face saw there a kindness and a sorrow like his own, and seeing it he knew that she loved him. Then pity and love for her rose in his heart and comforted him, and he took the cup from her and spake, saying:—

So they twain went hand in hand to stand before Giuki and Grimhild and the swart-haired Niblung brethren, and all these were glad-hearted when they marked their joy and goodlihead. Then Sigurd spake noble words of thanks to Giuki for all past kindness, and bade Giuki call him son because he had that day bidden Gudrun to wife, and he sware also to toil for her exalting and for the weal of all the Niblung kin. Thereto Giuki answered glad-hearted, "Hail, Sigurd, son of mine eld!" and called upon Grimhild the Queen to bless him.

Thus was Sigurd troth-plight to the white-armed Gudrun, and all men were fain of their love and spake nought but praise of him.

Sigurd rideth with the Niblungs, and wooeth Brynhild for King Gunnar.

Now Giuki the king was long grown old, and he died and was buried beneath a great earth-mound high on the mountains.

How Brynhild was wedded to Gunnar the Niblung.

So ten days wore over, and on the morrow-morn the folk were all astir in the Niblung house, till the watchers on the towers cried to them tidings of a goodly company drawing nigh upon the road. Then the Niblungs got them to horse in glittering-gay raiment and went forth to meet the people of Brynhild.

First rode bands of maidens arrayed in fine linen and blue-broidered cloaks, and after them came a golden wain with horses of snowy white and bench-cloths of blue, and therein sat Brynhild alone, clad in swan-white raiment and crowned with gold. Then they hailed her sweet and goodly, and so she entered the darksome gate-way and came within the Niblung Burg.

Then Brynhild gave fair greeting to Hogni, but anon she turned and questioned Gunnar of his words concerning that brother who awaited her in the hall. "I deemed the sons of Giuki had been but three," said Brynhild. "This fourth, this hall-abider the mighty,—is he akin to thee?"

Of the Contention betwixt the Queens.

So now must Sigurd and Brynhild abide together in the Burg of the Niblungs, yet each must bear the burden of sorrow alone. Brynhild held close converse with Gudrun, and behaved humbly towards her lest strife should arise between them. But Gudrun, filled with pride that she was the wife of so great a man as Sigurd, deemed it a little matter that all others should give her honour, and knowing how Sigurd had ridden the fire, she cherished great scorn of Gunnar and Brynhild in her heart, and her pride waxed daily greater.

Of the heart-wise Hogni men tell how he grew wiser day by day and more learned in the craft of his mother Grimhild.

As for Gunnar, he lived with Brynhild in great honour and praise from all men, but the thought of how Sigurd had ridden the fire in his semblance lay heavy upon him. He brooded thereon in bitterness and envy, and the lie shadowed his life-days so that he had but small joy in his wife.

And Grimhild, marking his heavy mood, wrought upon him with cunning words and he gave ear to her. For ever she spake of kings' supplanters who bear away the praise from their lords after great deeds are done, and often her talk was of the mighty power that he holdeth who knoweth the shame of a king. So Gunnar hearkened and ill thoughts grew within him.

Now Gudrun's scorn of Brynhild waxed greater as she thought on the knowledge that she held, and it needed but a little that she should speak out the whole tale.

Such was her mind when it befell her to go with Brynhild to bathe in the Niblung river. There it chanced that they fell to talk of their husbands, and Gudrun named Sigurd the best of the world. Thereat Brynhild, stung by her love for Sigurd and the memory of his broken troth,—for so she deemed it,—cried out, saying: "Thy lord is but Gunnar's serving man to do his bidding, but my mate is the King of King-folk, who rode the Wavering Fire and hath dared very death to win me."

Then Gudrun held out her hand and a golden gleam shone on her finger, at the sight whereof Brynhild waxed wan as a dead woman. "Lo," said Gudrun, "I had Andvari's ring of Sigurd, and indeed thou sayest truly, that he did Gunnar's bidding, for he took the King's semblance and hid his own shape in Gunnar's. Thus he wooed the bride for Gunnar and for Gunnar rode the fire, and now by this token mayest thou know whether thy husband is truly the best of Kings." And Brynhild spake no word in answer, but clad herself in haste and fled from the river, and Gudrun followed her in triumph of heart.

Yet as the day wore on she repented of her words and feared the deeds that Brynhild might do, and at even she sought her alone and craved pardon. Then spake Brynhild the Queen: "I repent me of my bitter words this day, yet one thing I beseech thee,—do thou say that thou hadst the ring of Gunnar and not of Sigurd, lest I be shamed before all men." "What?" said Gudrun; "hast thou heard that the wives of the Niblungs lie? Nay, Sigurd it was who set this ring on my finger and therewith he told me the shame of my brother Gunnar,—how his glory was turned to a scoff."

And Brynhild seeing that the tale of the deceiving wrought against her might not be hidden, lifted her voice and cursed the house of the Niblungs wherein she had suffered such woe. So the queens parted in great wrath and bitterness.

Of the exceeding great grief and mourning of Brynhild.

Now on the morrow it was known that Brynhild was sick, nor would she reveal the cause to any. Then Gunnar besought her to be comforted and to show what ailed her, but for a long while he might win no word in answer. Thereat the evil thoughts that Grimhild had sown in his heart grew strong, and he cried in bitter anger: "Lo, Brynhild, I deem thou art sick for love of my foe, the supplanter of Kings, he who hath shone like a serpent this long while past amidst the honour of our kin."

Then at last was Brynhild moved to look on him, and she besought him, saying: "Swear to me, Gunnar, that I may live, and say that thou gavest Andvari's ring to Gudrun—thou, and not thy captain of war." Thereby Gunnar understood that all his falsehood was known to her, so that never again might they two have any joy together. He had no answering word, but turned from her and departed, for bitter shame was come on him and hatred of Sigurd burnt in his soul like fire.

Then as evening drew on, boding of evil fell on Gudrun, and she sought her brothers that they might plead with Brynhild to pardon her and forget her bitter taunts.

But Gunnar she found seated alone arrayed in his war-gear and on his knees lay his sword, neither would he hear any word of further pleading with Brynhild.

Then sought she Hogni, and behold, he was in the like guise, and sat as one that waits for a foe. So she sped to Sigurd, but chill fear fell on her beholding him, for he was dight in the Helm of Aweing and his golden hauberk, and the Wrath lay on his knees, neither would he then speak to Brynhild.

So that heavy night passed away and there was but little sleep in the abode of the Niblungs. And with the dawn Sigurd arose and sought Brynhild's chamber where she lay as one dead. Like a pillar of light he stood in the sunshine and the Wrath rattled by his side. And Brynhild looked on him and said: "Art thou come to behold me? Thou—the mightiest and the worst of my betrayers." Then for very grief the breast of Sigurd heaved so that the rings of his byrny burst asunder and he cried: "O live, Brynhild beloved! For hereafter shalt thou know of the snare and the lie that entrapped us and the measureless grief of my soul." "It is o'erlate," said Brynhild, "for I may live no longer and the gods have forgotten the earth." And in such despair must he leave her.

Of the slaying of Sigurd the Volsung.

Then at high noon Brynhild sent for Gunnar and sought to whet him to the slaying of Sigurd, for to such hatred was her love turned.

Thereon he turned him again to the hall, and the Kings beheld his unstained sword in the torch-light, but they cast him never a word. Then shame and wrath urged him and he wended the second time to Sigurd's chamber, but yet again the dread eyes of the Volsung were open and he fled from their light to his biding brethren.

Of the mighty Grief of Gudrun over Sigurd dead.

But as for the grief of Gudrun over Sigurd no man may tell it. Long she lay on his body and spent herself in weeping, but at last she arose and cursed Brynhild and Gunnar and all the Niblung house, saying:

And therewith Gudrun fled forever from the Burg of the Niblungs, and none dared hinder or follow her, and none knew whither she turned for refuge.

Of the passing away of Brynhild.

THE END

GLOSSARY

ABBREVIATIONS:—n., noun; v., verb; cf., compare; e.g., for example; p.t., past tense; p.p. past participle.

Abasement, casting down, defeat.

Acre-biders, peaceful workers in the fields as distinguished from warriors who left their homes to go to war.

Amber, a yellow substance found on the shores of the Baltic Sea and used from very early days as an ornament. The "southern men," or traders from the shores of the Mediterranean, came north to buy it.

Ark, a box for treasures.

Atwain, in two pieces, e.g. "The sword ... had smitten his body atwain."

Avail, n. power; v. to have power, to succeed.

Bale, disaster, destruction, death; a great pile of wood for burning.

Balks, pieces of timber used to make a bridge.

Bane, destruction or a cause of destruction; often used to mean an enemy or slayer, e.g. Sigurd's sword is called "Fafnir's bane," and in the old saga Sigurd himself had the title Fafnir's-Bane.

Barter, to give in exchange for something else.

Bast, wrappings made of the soft inner bark of trees.

Bath of the swan, the sea.

Battle-acre, field of battle.

Beaker, a drinking cup.

Befall, happen.

Begrudge, to feel unwillingness in giving, to be displeased at another's success. Loki is called the World's Begrudger, because he liked to cause failure and unhappiness, and hated success in others.

Bench-cloths, coverings for seats.

Bent, a piece of high ground.

Betide, p.t. betided; p.p. betid; to happen, come to pass, e.g. "What hath betid?"

Bickering, stormy, struggling.

Bide or abide, p.t. abode; p.p. abode; to remain, dwell

Bight, a bend or curve in a coast or river bank.

Bill, an axe with a long handle.

Blazoning, painting, especially the painting of coats of arms or of records of valiant deeds.

Boar of Sôn. It was customary when making any solemn vows to lay the hand or sword on a sacred boar called the Boar of Sôn or the Boar of Atonement. The ceremony seems to have been also accompanied by drinking a draught, called in this poem the Cup of Daring Promise, in honour of one of the gods.

Boding, a misgiving, a feeling that evil is to come.

Bole, a tree-trunk.

Bows the acre's face, bends the growing grain in a harvest-field.

Brand, a sword.

Bucklers, shields.

Burg, a town, a fortress.

Byrny, a coat of armour for back and breast, made of linked iron rings.

Carles, peasants; a contemptuous word used for a man who is not a warrior.

Change his life, die and pass from the life on earth to that in Valhalla or Niflheim.

Chooser. One of the titles of Brynhild, as she was one of the Valkyries or maidens whom Odin sent into battles to single out for death the men he had chosen to be slain. Victory-Wafter is another title of Brynhild, since she brought victory to those for whom it was appointed and death to others.

Churl, a grudging, ungracious man.

Clave, p.p. of cleave, to pierce, hew, cut through.

Cloisters, a roofed passage running round a court-yard and open on the side towards the court-yard.

Close, a field.

Cloud-wreath, the cloud that often gathers about the top of a high mountain.

Compass, to contrive, accomplish.

Constrain, to force, to control and guide.

Coping, the topmost row of bricks in a wall, the top of a wall.

Craft, skill, knowledge of some particular art, a trade or occupation, e.g. song-craft.

Cull, to choose, pick out.

Cup of Daring Promise, see Boar of Sôn.

Daïs, a raised part of the floor at one end of a banquet hall, where the principal persons sat.

Dastard, a coward.

Dawn-dusk, the twilight at dawn before the sun is fully risen.

Day of the Battle, Ragnarok, when the spirits of dead warriors should join in the battle of the gods. "Day of Doom" has the same meaning.

Dearth, want, famine, scarcity.

Deft, skilful, e.g. deft in every cunning.

Dight, made ready, prepared, e.g. war-dight, prepared for war.

Dole, n. a gift dealt out as charity; v. to measure out in small portions, e.g. I doled out wisdom to thee.

Doom, n. a sentence, verdict, e.g. give righteous doom; v. to condemn, to sentence. Doom-ring, a circle of stones or hazel poles where kings heard complaints from their people and gave judgment.

Do on, put on; often shortened into "don"; cf. doff, which is shortened from do off.

Door-wards, porters, door-keepers.

Dragons, the war-ships of the northern nations, which often had their prows carved into a dragon's head.

Dwindle, to grow less.

Edges of bale, the sword edges, which bring bale or destruction.

Egg, to urge on, to persuade to some deed, e.g. "Too much thou eggest me."

Eld, old age.

Endlong, length-ways, along. Endlong and athwart, along and across.

Erewhile, some time ago, formerly.

Erne, an eagle.

Eyen, eyes; old plural of eye.

Fain, glad, willing, full of desire. Sometimes used as an adverb meaning "willingly," e.g. "They fain would go aland."

Fair-speech-masters, men skilled in poetry. There were professional singers and poets called skalds among the northern people, and the power to make verses and to sing was cultivated among the mass of the people and was fairly common.

Fallow, lying quiet, inactive, not bearing crops. The expression, "fallow bondage," means a bondage of sleep and idleness.

Fare, to travel. Sometimes when joined to adverbs it means to prosper, e.g. to fare ill, to fare well, how does he fare?

Fashion, to make, to arrange. Regin hoped to be the world's "fashioning lord," that is, the supreme king and orderer of all things.

Fell-abiding folk, men who worked at home instead of going out to battle.

Flame-blink, the flash of light from the fire round Brynhild's home.

Flaw, defect, fault, e.g. "the hauberk ... clean wrought without a flaw;" "the ring ... that hath ... no flaw for God to mend." If used of rain, it means a slight shower, e.g. "a flaw of summer rain,"

Fleck, spot, mark.

Foam-bow, the small rainbow seen in the spray from a waterfall.

Foil, n. defeat, failure; v. to defeat, to baffle.

Fold, a place for shutting up sheep. It is often used meaning any dwelling-place, e.g. Fafnir's abode is called "the lone destroyer's fold."

Folk, people. It is often joined with other words, e.g. man-folk, Goth-folk. Folk of the-war-wands forgers, are the race of dwarfs who had great skill in the making of weapons.

Fond, used in Old English to mean "foolish," or sometimes only to give emphasis, as in the expression "thy fondest need," meaning "thy greatest need."

Foot-hills, the lower hills round the base of a very high mountain.

Fore-ordained, settled by the will of the gods in early times.

Foster, to rear, to bring up a child, to care for, to shelter, e.g. "Now would I foster Sigurd;" "the house that fostered me."

Franklin, a well-to-do farmer, one who is not merely a hired servant.

Freyia, the wife of Odin and chief of the goddesses.

Gainsay, to resist, to refuse a request.

Gaping Gap, a name given to the state of things that existed before the world was made. There was supposed to have been an empty space till Odin created the world of gods and men.

Garner, to gather up, to store up; sometimes, to reap.

Garth, an enclosure, a place from which things may be garnered, e.g. "within the garth that it (the wall) girdeth."

Gear, a word used with many meanings, as, dress, arms, possessions, anything that a person has or uses, e.g. war-gear, all a man's armour and weapons; mail-gear, a man's armour.

Gird, to tie round, to be all round, e.g. "The Wrath to his side is girded;" "a wall doth he behold ... but within the garth that it girdeth no work of man is set."

Glaive, a sword.

God-home, Asgard.

Gold-bestrider, the name given to Sigurd by Giuki because he rode with the treasure of gold upon his saddle. To bestride is to stand over anything with one foot on each side.

Good-heart, kindly strength.

Goodlihead, a word of praise which is generally used to mean bodily beauty, but sometimes to mean beauty of character.

Grovel, to crouch low on the ground.

Guest-fain, hospitable, ready to welcome guests.

Guile, cunning, cleverness used for an evil purpose.

Guise, appearance, kind, dress, e.g. "such was the guise of his raiment;" "fair-clad in hunter's guise."

Halers of the hawsers, pullers of the ropes, i.e. seamen.

Hallow, to set apart for a solemn purpose, to make holy, e.g. I hallow me to Odin for a leader of his host.

Hangings, tapestry, woven stuff on which pictures or figures of gods and heroes were embroidered, used to decorate the walls of houses, e.g. "The walls were strange and wondrous with noble stories told;" "the gods on the hangings stirred."

Harness, armour.

Hauberk, a breast-plate.

Heave, to rise and fall, sometimes merely to rise, e.g. "The doom ... heaves up dim through the gloom."

High-seat, the daïs or chief seat where the master of a house and his principal guests sat.

High-tide, time of festival.

Hindfell, the word means "deer-mountain," since "fell" means any hill, and "hind" is the word we still use for a deer.

Hireling, a servant.

Hist, to give attention, to listen.

Hithermost, nearest.

Hoard, a store. Generally used of a treasure which the owner keeps selfishly, e.g. Fafnir's wisdom is called "grudged and hoarded wisdom," and his gold the "heavy hoard."

Hœnir, one of Odin's sons; a wise and blameless god who, the others believed, would return to reign over a new heaven and a new earth when Ragnarok was past.

Holt, a woodland.

Hoppled, fettered.

Horse-fed, cropped by horses.

Horse-herd, keeper of horses. "Herd" means any keeper of animals, and is generally joined with other words, e.g. shepherd, swine-herd.

Huddled, twisted together in a small space.

Intent, intention, purpose. In the passage, "For whom is the blood-point whetted and the edge of thine intent?" the meaning is, "Against whom is thy sword sharpened, and against whom is thy purpose so keen?"

Kin, family, relations. Kin of the Wolf, Loki and his children, one of whom was a monstrous wolf which was to fight against the gods at Ragnarok.

Kine, cattle.

Kirtle, a long cloak.

Lack, loss, e.g. "He knew there was ruin and lack." "The lack that made him loth" is used to describe the ring of Andvari which he was unwilling to give up with the rest of his treasure to Loki. v. "To be without," or, "to be found wanting."

Lay, a song.

Lea, a meadow.

Leeches, doctors.

Lief, willing.

Lift, the arch of the sky overhead, the highest part of the sky.

Linden, the lime-tree.

Linked mail, armour made of rings linked together.

Lintel, the top of a doorway.

List, to wish, to choose.

Litten, lighted up; cf. red-litten, torch-litten.

Long-ships, ships of war.

Lore, learning, knowledge.

Loth, unwilling, grieved.

Mar, to spoil, disfigure.

Mark, boundary, borderland.

Masters of God-home, the gods of Asgard against whom the giants and all foul monsters were constantly at war.

Mattock, a pick-axe.

Mead, a meadow.

Mew, a sea-gull.

Mid-mirk, thick darkness. Mirk, darkness.

Midward, prime, best days.

Midworld, the earth; the home of men as distinguished from Asgard, the home of the gods, and Niflheim, the home of the dead.

Minish, to grow less.

Moon-wake, the long straight path of light made by the moon on water.

Murder-churls, fierce and suspicious men ready to slay a guest.

Mute, dumb, silent.

Nether, lower.

Niggard, grudging, miserly, unproductive, e.g. the Glittering Heath is called "niggard ground."

Norns, the three maidens who decided the fates of gods and men. Their names were Urd, Verdandi and Skuld, or Past, Present, and Future, and they were more powerful than the gods themselves, e.g. "Gone, forth is the will of the Norns, that abideth ever the same."

Odin's door, a warrior's shield.

Odin's Hall, Valhalla, to which went the souls of warriors slain in battle.

Pall, a cloak of state; most commonly used in the expression "purple and pall."

Passing, very; used to give emphasis, e.g. "He loveth her passing sore," where both words are simply emphatic.

Peace-strings, the strings which tied a sword into its sheath when it was not in use.

Peers, equals in age and rank.

People's Praise. Odin, chief of the gods. "The death of the People's Praise" is Ragnarok, the time when Odin and all his fellow gods were to be destroyed.

Purblind, dim-sighted. The syllable "pur" is a form of the word pure, and gives emphasis to blind.

Purple, cloth dyed with a purple dye made from the murex, a shell-fish found in the Mediterranean. The secret of making it was known only to the "southern men" or Phoenician traders of Tyre and Sidon.

Quarry, game, prey, the animal chased by a hunter.

Quell, to stop, make to cease.

Quicken, to rouse, bring to life.

Ravening, devouring, eager for prey; often used of wild animals.

Reck, to notice, care about.

Reek, smoke rising from a fire, or spray and mist from a waterfall, e.g. "the reek of the falling flood;" "the heart of Fafnir ... sang among the reek."

Renown, fame, honour.

Rock-wall, mountain cliff.

Roof-tree, the topmost beam which forms the ridge of a roof.

Rue, to regret, to find a cause of woe.

Rumour, report, gossiping tale.

Rune, letter. The letters used in old Icelandic and similar languages are called runic characters. When written letters were first known in the north of Europe they were supposed to have magic powers, and gradually the word "rune" came to mean any spell, or even any wisdom which was beyond the ordinary knowledge of men.

Ruth, pity, regret, e.g. "Ruth arose in his heart;" "I have hearkened not nor heeded the words of thy fear and thy ruth."

Salutation, greeting.

Sate, satisfy to the full.

Scalds, the poets who recited poems or stories at feasts.

Scoff, an object of mockery.

Scored, carved, marked by lines cut deeply into a surface.

Sea-beast's tooth, the tusks of the walrus.

Sea-mead, the wide surface of the sea. The word means sea-meadow.

Seethe, to bubble and move like boiling water.

Semblance, an appearance, outward show where there is no reality.

Serry, to crowd closely together.

Shards, broken fragments, e.g. "the shards of a glaive of battle."

Shield-burg, a fortress built of shields. Burg means either a town, a castle, or a fortress.

Shield-wall, the defence made by fighting men holding their shields close together as they stand at bay.

Shift, n. a trick, cunning plan, e.g. "my cunning shifts;" v. to contrive, be able, e.g. "the man whose heart and hand may shift, To pluck it from the oak-wood."

Shimmer, to gleam and change colour as the light alters.

Skerry, a rocky island near the coast.

Slaked, cooled, put out; used of anything that has been burning and is now grown cold.

Sleight, cunning, trickery. Loki is called "the Master of Sleight" because of his skill in deceit.

Sleipnir, Odin's horse. It was grey, had eight feet, and could carry him over sea and land, and could also fly through the air.

Slot, the track left by a wild animal.

Sloth, idleness.

Smithy, to do the work of a smith, forge weapons.

Sooth, truth.

Sore, very much. It is generally used about things which are evil or painful, but sometimes only to give emphasis, e.g. "amber that the southern men love sore."

Spear-hedge, the bristling spears of an army in battle; cf. battle-wood, spear-wood.

Spell-drenched, stupefied or overwhelmed by magic.

Sphere-stream, the space beyond the air of this world, in which the planets or spheres move on their courses.

Stark, stiff, hard, severe.

Staunch, steadfast, unchanging.

Stead, n. a place; it is often joined to other words, e.g. hall-stead, a hall or the place where a hall has been, as in the sentence, "I went to the pillared hall-stead;" v. stead or bestead, to serve, to aid, e.g. "to stead me in the fight."

Steadfast, unchanging, faithful, unmoved.

Stithy, a blacksmith's forge.

Strait, narrow, cramped.

Stripling, a young man just grown up; cf. youngling.

Sunder, to separate, e.g. "We wend on the sundering ways."

Sun-dog, a bright spot like a faint image of the sun, seen near it in cloudy weather.

Swaddling, anything that wraps or enfolds, e.g. the coils of Fafnir passing over Sigurd in the pit are called "the swaddling of death."

Swart-haired, dark-haired.

Swathe, the long line of mown corn behind a reaper; cf. "swathes of the sword," i.e. heaps of dead in battle.

Targe, a shield.

Tarry, to wait, to linger, e.g. "Tarry till I say a word."

Thrall, a slave, "short-lived thralls of the gods," mortal men, not dwarfs or giants.

Tide, time, e.g. "the tide when my father fell;" "the night-tide."

Tiles of Odin, war shields, so called because Odin was god of war.

Tiller, the handle of the rudder which steers a ship.

Toils, snares, fetters.

To-morn, tomorrow morning.

Train, to entice, bring by trickery.

Tree-hole, tree-trunk.

Troth, a promise, generally a promise of marriage.

Troth-plight, promised in marriage.

Trow, to believe.

Twi-bill, an axe with a double-edged blade. It was the weapon which Odin carried when he appeared to men.

Unbitted, never taught to obey the bit, not broken in.

Unholpen, unhelped. Holpen is the old form of the p.p. helped.

Unstable, changeable, not lasting.

Uttermost horn, the signal for Ragnarok. It was believed that Heimdall, one of the gods who guarded a bridge called Bifrost between Asgard and the earth, would blow a blast on his horn which would be the sign for the beginning of the great battle between the gods and the powers of evil.

Venom, poison.

Wall-nook, an opening or bend in a wall.

Wallow, to roll about upon the ground, e.g. "Fafnir, the wallower on the gold."

Wan, pale, pinched with suffering.

Wane, to fade away, grow dim.

Warding-walls, guarding-walls. "Warding walls of death," man's armour that keeps death from him.

Wards, keepers, e.g. door-wards; cf. warden. Fafnir is called "the gold-warden."

War-wand, a sword.

Wary, careful, ever on the watch.

Waste, to destroy, to sweep away, e.g. Sigurd is said to "waste every wrong."

Waxen, grown, become.

Weal, happiness, good-fortune.

Wedge-array, an arrangement of fighting men in which they stood close together in the form of a triangle.

Weed, dress.

Well up, to rise as a spring bubbles out of the ground; used of feelings with the meaning "to arise and grow strong," e.g. "Wrath in his heart wells up."

Welter, the toss and ripple of the sea-waves.

Wend, to go.

Whetted, stirred up, made sharp or eager, e.g. "the whetted Wrath."

Whileome, in the past, once upon a time.

Whiles, from time to time.

Whit, a very small particle, a trifle, e.g. never a whit, no whit.

Wight, a man, a creature, e.g. sea-wights, great sea-monsters.

Wise, way, manner, after the fashion of.

Witch-wife, witch. Wife here means woman.

Wold, a hill; often used to mean open country.

Wood-craft, knowledge of the woods and of all creatures in them, e.g. "His wood-craft waxed so great, that he seemed the king of the creatures."

Wot, to know.

Wrack, strife, destruction, ruins. Wrack of a mighty battle, the dead left on the field.

Wrights, workmen, makers.

Writhen, bent, twisted out of shape, e.g. "Writhen and foul were the hands that made it glorious."

Written spear, a spear carved with letters or words.

Yearn, to long, to feel tenderness towards, e.g. "My heart to him doth yearn."

Yore, long ago; generally used in the expression "of yore," formerly, once upon a time.

LONGMANS' CLASS-BOOKS OF ENGLISH LITERATURE

Each Volume contains an Introduction and Notes.

Alcott's Little Women.

Allen's Heroes of Indian History and Stories of their Times. With Maps and Illustrations.

Anderson's English Letters selected for Reading in Schools.

Arnold's Sohrab and Rustum, and Balder Dead.

Ballantyne's The Coral Island. (Abridged).

Carroll's Alice in Wonderland.

Cook's (Captain) Voyages.

Defoe's Robinson Crusoe. (Abridged). With Illustrations.

Dickens' A Christmas Carol.

Dickens, Selections from. With Illustrations.

Doyle's Micah Clarke. (Abridged). With 20 Illustrations.

Doyle's The Refugees. (Abridged). With Illustrations.

Doyle's The White Company. (Abridged). With 12 Illustrations.

Fronde's Short Studies on Great Subjects. Selections. With Illustrations.

Haggard's Eric Bright eyes. (Abridged).

Haggard's Lysbeth. (Abridged).

Hawthorne's A Wonder Book.

Hawthorne's Tanglewood Tales.

Hughes' Tom Brown's School Days. (Abridged) With Frontispiece.

Jefferies (Richard), Selections from.

Kingsley's The Heroes. With Illustrations.

Kingsley's Hereward the Wake. (Abridged).

Kingsley's Westward Ho!

Lambs' Tales from Shakespeare. (Abridged.)

Lang's Tales of the Greek Seas. With Illustrations.

Lang's Tales of Troy. With Illustrations and a Map.

Macaulay's History of England. Chap I.

Macaulay's History of England. Chap III.

Macaulay's History of England, Selections from.

Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome, &c.

Marryat's Settlers in Canada.

Milton's Paradise Lost. Books I, II, III, IV, and V.

Milton's Comus, Il Penseroso, L'Allegro and Lycidas.

Morris's Atalanta's Race, and The Proud King.

Morris's The Man Born to be King.

Morris's The Story of the Glittering Plain.

Morris's The Story of Sigurd the Volsung.

Newman, Literary Selections from.

Reade's The Cloister and the Hearth.

Ruskin's King of the Golden River.

Scott's Lay of the Last Minstrel.

Scott's Marmion.

Scott's The Lady of the Lake.

Scott's The Talisman. (Abridged).

Scott's A Legend of Montrose. (Abridged).

Scott's Ivanhoe. (Abridged).

Scott's Quentin Durward. (Abridged).

Southey's The Life of Nelson.

Stevenson's Book of Selections.

Stevenson's A Child's Garden of Verse. With a Portrait.

Tales of King Arthur and the Round Table. With Illustrations.

Thackeray, Selections from.

Thornton's Selection of Poetry.

Weyman's The House of the Wolf.

Zimmern's Gods and Heroes of the North. With Illustrations.