The Story of Siegfried | Page 3

deeds in the song of
Fafnir, in the "Elder Edda." Then, in the "Younger Edda," the story is
repeated in the myth of the Niflungs and the Gjukungs. It is told again
in the "Volsunga Saga" of Iceland. It is repeated and re-repeated in
various forms and different languages, and finally appears in the
"Nibelungen Lied," a grand old German poem, which may well be
compared with the Iliad of the Greeks. In this last version, Sigurd is
called Siegfried; and the story is colored and modified by the
introduction of many notions peculiar to the middle ages, and unknown
to our Pagan fathers of the north. In our own time this myth has been
woven into a variety of forms. William Morris has embodied it in his
noble poem of "Sigurd the Volsung;" Richard Wagner, the famous
German composer, has constructed from it his inimitable drama, the
"Nibelungen Ring;" W. Jordan, another German writer, has given it to
the world in his "Sigfrid's Saga;" and Emanuel Geibel has derived from
it the materials for his "Tragedy of Brunhild."
And now I, too, come with the STORY OF SIEGFRIED, still another
version of the time-honored legend. The story as I shall tell it you is not
in all respects a literal rendering of the ancient myth; but I have taken
the liberty to change and recast such portions of it as I have deemed
advisable. Sometimes I have drawn materials from one version of the
story, sometimes from another, and sometimes largely from my own
imagination alone. Nor shall I be accused of impropriety in thus
reshaping a narrative, which, although hallowed by an antiquity of a
thousand years and more, has already appeared in so many different
forms, and been clothed in so many different garbs; for, however much
I may have allowed my fancy or my judgment to retouch and remodel
the immaterial portions of the legend, the essential parts of this
immortal myth remain the same. And, if I succeed in leading you to a
clearer understanding and a wiser appreciation of the thoughts and
feelings of our old northern ancestors, I shall have accomplished the

object for which I have written this Story of Siegfried.

Contents.

The Fore Word I. Mimer, the Master II. Greyfell III. The Curse of Gold
IV. Fafnir, the Dragon V. In AEgir's Kingdom VI. Brunhild VII. In
Nibelungen Land VIII. Siegfried's Welcome Home IX. The Journey to
Burgundy-land X. Kriemhill's Dream XI. How the Spring Time Came
XII. The War with the North-kings XIII. The Story of Balder XIV.
How Gunther Outwitted Brunhild XV. In Nibelungen Land Again XVI.
How Brunhild Was Welcomed Home XVII. How Siegfried Lived in
Nibelungen Land XVIII. How the Mischief Began to Brew XIX. How
They Hunted in the Odenwald XX. How the Hoard Was Brought to
Burgundy The After Word Notes

Adventure I. Mimer, the Master.

At Santen, in the Lowlands, there once lived a young prince named
Siegfried. His father, Siegmund, was king of the rich country through
which the lazy Rhine winds its way just before reaching the great North
Sea; and he was known, both far and near, for his good deeds and his
prudent thrift. And Siegfried's mother, the gentle Sigelind, was loved
by all for her goodness of heart and her kindly charity to the poor.
Neither king nor queen left aught undone that might make the young
prince happy, or fit him for life's usefulness. Wise men were brought
from far-off lands to be his teachers; and every day something was
added to his store of knowledge or his stock of happiness. And very
skilful did he become in warlike games and in manly feats of strength.
No other youth could throw the spear with so great force, or shoot the
arrow with surer aim. No other youth could run more swiftly, or ride
with more becoming ease. His gentle mother took delight in adding to
the beauty of his matchless form, by clothing him in costly garments

decked with the rarest jewels. The old, the young, the rich, the poor, the
high, the low, all praised the fearless Siegfried, and all vied in friendly
strife to win his favor. One would have thought that the life of the
young prince could never be aught but a holiday, and that the birds
would sing, and the flowers would bloom, and the sun would shine
forever for his sake.
But the business of man's life is not mere pastime; and none knew this
truth better than the wise old king, Siegmund.
"All work is noble," said he to Siegfried; "and he who yearns to win
fame must not shun toil. Even princes should know how to earn a
livelihood by the labor of their hands."
And so, while