Who swam through the sweeping river, and back through the toppling wave.

  Regin telleth Sigurd of his kindred, and of the Gold that was

  accursed from ancient days.

  Now yet the days pass over, and more than words may tell

  Grows Sigurd strong and lovely, and all children love him well.

  But oft he looks on the mountains and many a time is fain

  To know of what lies beyond them, and learn of the wide world’s gain.

  * * * * *

  Now again it happed on a day that he sat in Regin’s hall

  And hearkened many tidings of what had chanced to fall,

  And of kings that sought their kingdoms o’er many a waste and wild,

  And at last saith the crafty master:

  “Thou art King Sigmund’s child:

  Wilt thou wait till these kings of the carles shall die in a little land,

  Or wilt thou serve their sons and carry the cup to their hand;

  Or abide in vain for the day that never shall come about,

  When their banners shall dance in the wind and shake to the war-gods’

  shout?”

  Then Sigurd answered and said: “Nought such do I look to be.

  But thou, a deedless man, too much thou eggest me:

  And these folk are good and trusty, and the land is lovely and sweet,

  And in rest and in peace it lieth as the floor of Odin’s feet:

  Yet I know that the world is wide, and filled with deeds unwrought;

  And for e’en such work was I fashioned, lest the songcraft come to nought.”

  * * * * *

  Then answered Regin the guileful: “The deed is ready to hand,

  Yet holding my peace is the best, for well thou lovest the land;

  And thou lovest thy life moreover, and the peace of thy youthful days,

  And why should the full-fed feaster his hand to the rye-bread raise?

  Yet they say that Sigmund begat thee and he looked to fashion a man.

  Fear nought; he lieth quiet in his mound by the sea-waves wan.”

  So shone the eyes of Sigurd, that the shield against him hung

  Cast back their light as the sunbeams; but his voice to the roof-tree rung:

  “Tell me, thou Master of Masters, what deed is the deed I shall do?

  Nor mock thou the son of Sigmund lest the day of his birth thou rue.”

  Then answered the Master of Sleight: “The deed is the righting of wrong,

  And the quelling a bale and a sorrow that the world hath endured o’erlong,

  And the winning a treasure untold, that shall make thee more than the kings;

  Thereof is the Helm of Aweing, the wonder of earthly things,

  And thereof is its very fellow, the War-Coat all of gold,

  That has not its like in the heavens, nor has earth of its fellow told.”

  Then answered Sigurd the Volsung: “How long hereof hast thou known?

  And what unto thee is this treasure, that thou seemest to give as thine

  own?”

  “Alas!” quoth the smithying master, “it is mine, yet none of mine,

  Since my heart herein avails not, and my hand is frail and fine —

  It is long since I first came hither to seek a man for my need;

  For I saw by a glimmering light that hence would spring the deed,

  And many a deed of the world: but the generations passed,

  And the first of the days was as near to the end that I sought as the last;

  Till I looked on thine eyes in the cradle: and now I deem through thee,

  That the end of my days of waiting, and the end of my woes shall be.”

  Then Sigurd awhile was silent; but at last he answered and said:

  “Thou shalt have thy will and the treasure, and shalt take the curse on

  thine head

  If a curse the gold enwrappeth: but the deed will I surely do,

  For today the dreams of my childhood hath bloomed in my heart anew:

  And I long to look on the world and the glory of the earth

  And to deal in the dealings of men, and garner the harvest of worth.

  But tell me, thou Master of Masters, where lieth this measureless wealth;

  Is it guarded by swords of the earl-folk, or kept by cunning and stealth?

  Is it over the main sea’s darkness, or beyond the mountain wall?

  Or e’en in these peaceful acres anigh to the hands of all?”

  Then Regin answered sweetly: “Hereof must a tale be told:

  Bide sitting, thou son of Sigmund, on the heap of unwrought gold,

  And hearken of wondrous matters, and of things unheard, unsaid,

  And deeds of my beholding ere the first of Kings was made.

  “And first ye shall know of a sooth, that I never was born of the race

  Which the masters of God-home have made to cover the fair earth’s face;

  But I come of the Dwarfs departed; and fair was the earth whileome

  Ere the short-lived thralls of the Gods amidst its dales were come.

  * * * * *

  “It was Reidmar the Ancient begat me; and now was he waxen old,

  And a covetous man and a king; and he bade, and I built him a hall,

  And a golden glorious house; and thereto his sons did he call,

  And he bade them be evil and wise, that his will through them might be

  wrought.

  Then he gave unto Fafnir my brother the soul that feareth nought,

  And the brow of the hardened iron, and the hand that may never fail,

  And the greedy heart of a king, and the ear that hears no wail.

  “But next unto Otter my brother he gave the snare and the net,

  And the longing to wend through the wild-wood, and wade the highways wet:

  And the foot that never resteth, while aught be left alive

  That hath cunning to match man’s cunning or might with his might to strive.

  “And to me, the least and the youngest, what gift for the slaying of ease?

  Save the grief that remembers the past, and the fear that the future sees;

  And the hammer and fashioning-iron, and the living coal of fire;

  And the craft that createth a semblance, and fails of the heart’s desire;

  And the toil that each dawning quickens and the task that is never done;

  And the heart that longeth ever, nor will look to the deed that is won.

  “Thus gave my father the gifts that might never be taken again;

  Far worse were we now than the Gods, and but little better than men.

  But yet of our ancient might one thing had we left us still:

  We had craft to change our semblance, and could shift us at our will

  Into bodies of the beast-kind, or fowl, or fishes cold;

  * * * * *

  “So dwelt we, brethren and father; and Fafnir my brother fared

  As the scourge and compeller of all things, and left no wrong undared;

  But for me, I toiled and I toiled; and fair grew my father’s house;

  But writhen and foul were the hands that had made it glorious;

  * * * * *

  “And myself a little fragment amidst it all I saw,

  Grim, cold-hearted, and unmighty as the tempest-driven straw.

  — Let be. — For Otter my brother saw seldom field or fold,

  And he oftenest used that custom, whereof e’en now I told,

  And would shift his shape with the wood-beasts and the things of land and

  sea;

  And he knew what joy their hearts had, and what they longed to be,

  And their dim-eyed understanding, and his wood-craft waxed so great,

  That he seemed the king of the creatures and their very mortal fate.

  “Now as the years won over three folk of the heavenly halls

  Grew aweary of sleepless sloth, and the day that nought befalls;

  And they fain would look on the earth, and their latest handiwork,

  And turn the fine gold over, lest a flaw therein should lurk.

  And the three were the heart-wise Odin, the Father of the Slain,

  And Loki, the World’s Begrudger, who maketh all labour vain,

  And Hoenir, the Utter-Blameless, who wrought the hope of man,

  And his heart and inmost yearnings, when first the work began;—”

  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: —

  “‘O hearken Gods of the Goths! ye shall die, and we shall be Gods,

  And rule your men beloved with bitter-heavy rods,

  And make them beasts beneath us, save today ye do our will,

  And pay us the ransom of blood, and our hearts with the gold fulfill.’

  “But Odin spake in answer, and his voice was awful and cold:

  ‘Give righteous doom, O Reidmar! say what ye will of the Gold!’

  “Then Reidmar laughed in his heart, and his wrath and his wisdom fled,

  And nought but his greed abided; and he spake from his throne and said:

  “‘Now hearken the doom I shall speak! Ye stranger-folk shall be free

  When ye give me the Flame of the Waters, the gathered Gold of the Sea,

  That Andvari hideth rejoicing in the wan realm pale as the grave;

  And the Master of Sleight shall fetch it, and the hand that never gave,

  And the heart that begrudgeth for ever shall gather and give and rue.

  — Lo this is the doom of the wise, and no doom shall be spoken anew.’

  “Then Odin spake: ‘It is well; the Curser shall seek for the curse;

  And the Greedy shall cherish the evil — and the seed of the Great they shall

  nurse.’

  “No word spake Reidmar the great, for the eyes of his heart were turned

  To the edge of the outer desert, so sore for the gold he yearned.

  But Loki I loosed from the toils, and he goeth his way abroad;

  And the heart of Odin he knoweth, and where he shall seek the Hoard.

  “There is a desert of dread in the uttermost part of the world,

  Where over a wall of mountains is a mighty water hurled,

  Whose hidden head none knoweth, nor where it meeteth the sea;

  And that force is the Force of Andvari, and an Elf of the Dark is he.

  In the cloud and the desert he dwelleth amid that land alone;

  And his work is the storing of treasure within his house of stone.

  Time was when he knew of wisdom, and had many a tale to tell

  Of the days before the Dwarf-age, and of what in that world befell:

  And he knew of the stars and the sun, and the worlds that come and go

  On the nether rim of heaven, and whence the wind doth blow,

  And how the sea hangs balanced betwixt the curving lands,

  And how all drew together for the first Gods’ fashioning hands.

  But now is all gone from him, save the craft of gathering gold,

  And he heedeth nought of the summer, nor knoweth the winter cold,

  Nor looks to the sun nor the snowfall, nor ever dreams of the sea,

  Nor hath heard of the making of men-folk, nor of where the high Gods be;

  But ever he gripeth and gathereth, and he toileth hour by hour,

  Nor knoweth the noon from the midnight as he looks on his stony bower,

  And saith: ‘It is short, it is narrow for all I shall gather and get;

  For the world is but newly fashioned, and long shall its years be yet.’

  “There Loki fareth, and seeth in a land of nothing good,

  Far off o’er the empty desert, the reek of the falling flood

  Go up to the floor of heaven, and thither turn his feet

  As he weaveth the unseen meshes and the snare of strong deceit;

  So he cometh his ways to the water, where the glittering foam-bow glows,

  And the huge flood leaps the rock-wall and a green arch over it throws.

  There under the roof of water he treads the quivering floor,

  And the hush of the desert is felt amid the water’s roar,

  And the bleak sun lighteth the wave-vault, and tells of the fruitless plain,

  And the showers that nourish nothing, and the summer come in vain.

  “There did the great Guile-master his toils and his tangles set,

  And as wide as was the water, so wide was woven the net;

  And as dim as the Elf’s remembrance did the meshes of it show;

  And he had no thought of sorrow, nor spared to come and go

  On his errands of griping and getting till he felt himself tangled and

  caught:

  Then back to his blinded soul was his ancient wisdom brought,

  And he saw his fall and his ruin, as a man by the lightning’s flame

  Sees the garth all flooded by foemen; and again he remembered his name;

  And e’en as a book well written the tale of the Gods he knew,

  And the tale of the making of men, and much of the deeds they should do.

  * * * * *

  “Then Andvari groaned and answered: ‘I know what thou wouldst have,

  The wealth mine own hands gathered, the gold that no man gave.’

  “‘Come forth,’ said Loki, ‘and give it, and dwell in peace henceforth —

  Or die in the toils if thou listeth, if thy life be nothing worth.’

  “Full sore the Elf lamented, but he came before the God,

  And the twain went into the rock-house and on fine gold they trod,

  And the walls shone bright, and brighter than the sun of the upper air.

  How great was that treasure of treasures: and the Helm of Dread was there;

  The world but in dreams had seen it; and there was the hauberk of gold;

  None other is in the heavens, nor has earth of its fellow told.

  “Then Loki bade the Elf-king bring all to the upper day,

  And he dight himself with his Godhead to bear the treasure away:

  So there in the dim grey desert before the God of Guile,

  Great heaps of the hid-world’s treasure the weary Elf must pile,

  And Loki looked on laughing: but, when it all was done,

  And the Elf was hurrying homeward, his finger gleamed in the sun:

  Then Loki cried: ‘Thou art guileful: thou hast not learned the tale

  Of the wisdom that Gods hath gotten and their might of all avail.

  * * * * *

  “‘Come hither again to thy master, and give the ring to me;

  For meseems it is Loki’s portion, and the Bale of Men shall it be.’

  “Then the Elf drew off the gold-ring and stood with empty hand

  E’en where the flood fell over ‘twixt the water and the land,

  And he gazed on the great Guile-master, and huge and grim he grew;

  And his anguish swelled within him, and the word of the Norns he knew;

  How that gold was the seed of gold to the wise and the shapers of things,

  The hoarders of hidden treasure, and the unseen glory of rings;

  But the seed of woe to the world and the foolish wasters of men,

  And grief to the generations that die and spring again:

  Then he cried:

  ‘There farest thou Loki, and might I load thee worse

  Than with what thine ill heart beareth, then shouldst thou bear my curse:

  But for men a curse thou bearest: entangled in my gold,

  Amid my woe abideth another woe untold.

  Two brethren and a father, eight kings my grief shall slay;

  And the hearts of queens shall be broken, and their eyes shall loathe the

  day.’

  * * * * *

  “But Loki laughed in silence, and swift in Godhead went,

  To the golden hall of Reidmar and the house of our content.

  But when that world of treasure was laid within our hall

  ’Twas as if the sun were minded to live ‘twixt wall and wall,

  And all we stood by and panted. Then Odin spake and said:

  “‘O Kings, O folk of the Dwarf-kind, lo, the ransom duly paid!

 

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