The House of the Wolfings | Page 9

thrive by the
praise of the people; it is blent with my drink and my meat; As I
slumber in the night-tide it laps me soft and sweet; And through the
chamber window when I waken in the morn With the wind of the sun's
arising from the meadow is it borne And biddeth me remember that yet
I live on earth: Then I rise and my might is with me, and fills my heart
with mirth, As I think of the praise of the people; and all this joy I win
By the deeds that my heart commandeth and the hope that lieth
therein."
"Yea," she said, "but day runneth ever on the heels of day, and there are
many and many days; and betwixt them do they carry eld."
"Yet art thou no older than in days bygone," said he. "Is it so, O
Daughter of the Gods, that thou wert never born, but wert from before
the framing of the mountains, from the beginning of all things?"
But she said:
"Nay, nay; I began, I was born; although it may be indeed That not on
the hills of the earth I sprang from the godhead's seed. And e'en as my
birth and my waxing shall be my waning and end. But thou on many an
errand, to many a field dost wend Where the bow at adventure bended,
or the fleeing dastard's spear Oft lulleth the mirth of the mighty. Now
me thou dost not fear, Yet fear with me, beloved, for the mighty Maid I
fear; And Doom is her name, and full often she maketh me afraid And
even now meseemeth on my life her hand is laid."
But he laughed and said:
"In what land is she abiding? Is she near or far away? Will she draw up

close beside me in the press of the battle play? And if then I may not
smite her 'midst the warriors of the field With the pale blade of my
fathers, will she bide the shove of my shield?"
But sadly she sang in answer:
"In many a stead Doom dwelleth, nor sleepeth day nor night: The rim
of the bowl she kisseth, and beareth the chambering light When the
kings of men wend happy to the bride-bed from the board. It is little to
say that she wendeth the edge of the grinded sword, When about the
house half builded she hangeth many a day; The ship from the strand
she shoveth, and on his wonted way By the mountain-hunter fareth
where his foot ne'er failed before: She is where the high bank crumbles
at last on the river's shore: The mower's scythe she whetteth; and lulleth
the shepherd to sleep Where the deadly ling-worm wakeneth in the
desert of the sheep. Now we that come of the God-kin of her redes for
ourselves we wot, But her will with the lives of men-folk and their
ending know we not. So therefore I bid thee not fear for thyself of
Doom and her deed, But for me: and I bid thee hearken to the helping
of my need. Or else--Art thou happy in life, or lusteth thou to die In the
flower of thy days, when thy glory and thy longing bloom on high?"
But Thiodolf answered her:
"I have deemed, and long have I deemed that this is my second life,
That my first one waned with my wounding when thou cam'st to the
ring of strife. For when in thine arms I wakened on the hazelled field of
yore, Meseemed I had newly arisen to a world I knew no more, So
much had all things brightened on that dewy dawn of day. It was dark
dull death that I looked for when my thought had died away. It was
lovely life that I woke to; and from that day henceforth My joy of the
life of man-folk was manifolded of worth. Far fairer the fields of the
morning than I had known them erst, And the acres where I wended,
and the corn with its half-slaked thirst; And the noble Roof of the
Wolfings, and the hawks that sat thereon; And the bodies of my
kindred whose deliverance I had won; And the glimmering of the
Hall-Sun in the dusky house of old; And my name in the mouth of the
maidens, and the praises of the bold, As I sat in my battle-raiment, and

the ruddy spear well steeled Leaned 'gainst my side war-battered, and
the wounds thine hand had healed. Yea, from that morn thenceforward
has my life been good indeed, The gain of to-day was goodly, and good
to-morrow's need, And good the whirl of the battle, and the broil I
wielded there, Till I fashioned the ordered onset, and the