The Story of Sigurd the Volsung and the Fall of the Niblungs | Page 7

her
words were a fashion of slumber, a vision of the night. But they drank
the wine of departing, and brought the horses dight, And forth abroad
the Goth-folk and the Volsung Children rode, Nor ever once would
Signy look back to that abode.
So down over acre and heath they rode to the side of the sea, And there
by the long-ships' bridges was the ship-host's company. Then Signy
kissed her brethren with ruddy mouth and warm, Nor was there one of
the Goth-folk but blessed her from all harm; Then sweet she kissed her
father and hung about his neck, And sure she whispered him somewhat
ere she passed forth toward the deck,
Though nought I know to tell it:
then Siggeir hailed them fair, And called forth many a blessing on the
hearts that bode his snare. Then were the gangways shipped, and blown
was the parting horn, And the striped sails drew with the wind, and
away was Signy borne White on the shielded long-ship, a grief in the
heart of the gold; Nor once would she turn her about the strand of her
folk to behold.
Thenceforward dwelt the Volsungs in exceeding glorious state, And
merry lived King Volsung, abiding the day of his fate; But when the
months aforesaid were well-nigh worn away
To his sons and his folk

of counsel he fell these words to say: "Ye mind you of Signy's wedding
and of my plighted troth To go in two months' wearing to the house of
Siggeir the Goth: Nor will I hide how Signy then spake a warning word

And did me to wit that her husband was a grim and guileful lord,
And would draw us to our undoing for envy and despite
Concerning
the Sword of Odin, and for dread of the Volsung might. Now wise is
Signy my daughter and knoweth nought but sooth: Yet are there
seasons and times when for longing and self-ruth The hearts of women
wander, and this maybe is such;
Nor for her word of Siggeir will I
trow it overmuch,
Nor altogether doubt it, since the woman is
wrought so wise; Nor much might my heart love Siggeir for all his
kingly guise. Yet, shall a king hear murder when a king's mouth
blessing saith? So maybe he is bidding me honour, and maybe he is
bidding me death: Let him do after his fashion, and I will do no less.

In peace will I go to his bidding let the spae-wrights ban or bless; And
no man now or hereafter of Volsung's blenching shall tell. But ye, sons,
in the land shall tarry, and heed the realm right well, Lest the Volsung
Children fade, and the wide world worser grow."
But with one voice cried all men, that they one and all would go To
gather the Goth-king's honour, or let one fate go over all If he bade
them to battle and murder, till each by each should fall. So spake the
sons of his body, and the wise in wisdom and war. Nor yet might it
otherwise be, though Volsung bade full sore That he go in some ship of
the merchants with his life alone in his hand;
With such love he loved
his kindred, and the people of his land. But at last he said:
"So be it; for in vain I war with fate, Who can raise up a king from the
dunghill and make the feeble great. We will go, a band of friends, and
be merry whatever shall come, And the Gods, mine own forefathers,
shall take counsel of our home."
So now, when all things were ready, in the first of the autumn tide
Adown unto the swan-bath the Volsung Children ride;
And lightly go
a shipboard, a goodly company,
Though the tale thereof be scanty
and their ships no more than three: But kings' sons dealt with the

sail-sheets and earls and dukes of war Were the halers of the hawsers
and the tuggers at the oar. So they drew the bridges shipward, and left
the land behind, And fair astern of the longships sprang up a following
wind; So swift o'er Ægir's acre those mighty sailors ran,
And speedier
than all other ploughed down the furrows wan. And they came to the
land of the Goth-folk on the even of a day; And lo by the inmost skerry
a skiff with a sail of grey That as they neared the foreshore ran
Volsung's ship aboard, And there was come white-hand Signy with her
latest warning word.
"O strange," she said, "meseemeth, O sweet, your gear to see, And the
well-loved Volsung faces, and the hands that cherished me. But short is
the time that is left me for the work I have to win, Though nought it be
but the speaking of a word