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The Collected Works of William Morris

With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris

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CHAPTER XX. OF SIGURD'S MEETING WITH BRYNHILD ON THE MOUNTAIN.
  
  
  
  
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CHAPTER XX. OF SIGURD'S MEETING WITH BRYNHILD ON THE MOUNTAIN.

[Songs extracted from the verse narrative.]


335

[What bit on the byrny]

[Brynhild.]
What bit on the byrny,
Why breaks my sleep away,
Who has turned from me
My wan tormenting?

[“Sigmund's son]

[Sigurd.]
“Sigmund's son
With Sigurd's sword
E'en now rent down
The raven's wall.

[“Long have I slept]

[Brynhild.]
“Long have I slept
And slumbered long,
Many and long are the woes of mankind,
By the might of Odin
Must I bide helpless
To shake from off me the spells of slumber.

336

“Hail to the day come back!
Hail, sons of the daylight!
Hail to thee, dark night, and thy daughter!
Look with kind eyes a-down,
On us sitting here lonely,
And give unto us the gain that we long for.
“Hall to the Æsir,
And the sweet Asyniur!
Hail to the fair earth fulfilled of plenty!
Fair words, wise hearts,
Would we win from you,
And healing hands while life we hold.”

[“Beer bring I to thee]

[Brynhild.]
“Beer bring I to thee,
Fair fruit of the byrnies' clash,
Mixed is it mightily,

337

Mingled with fame,
Brimming with bright lays
And pitiful runes,
Wise words, sweet words,
Speech of great game.
“Runes of war know thou,
If great thou wilt be!
Cut them on hilt of hardened sword,
Some on the brand's back,
Some on its shining side,
Twice name Tyr therein.
“Sea-runes good at need,
Learnt for ship's saving,
For the good health of the swimming horse;
On the stern cut them,
Cut them on the rudder-blade
And set flame to shaven oar:
Howso big be the sea-hills,
Howso blue beneath,
Hail from the main then comest thou home.
“Word-runes learn well
If thou wilt that no man
Pay back grief for the grief thou gavest;
Wind thou these,
Weave thou these,
Cast thou these all about thee,
At the Thing,
Where folk throng,
Unto the full doom faring.
“Of ale-runes know the wisdom
If thou wilt that another's wife
Should not bewray thine heart that trusteth;
Cut them on the mead-horn,
On the back of each hand,
And nick an N upon thy nail.

338

“Ale have thou heed
To sign from all harm,
Leek lay thou in the liquor,
Then I know for sure
Never cometh to thee
Mead with hurtful matters mingled.
“Help-runes shalt thou gather
If skill thou wouldst gain
To loosen child from low-laid mother;
Cut be they in hands hollow,
Wrapped the joints round about;
Call for the Good-folks' gainsome helping.
“Learn the bough-runes' wisdom
If leech-lore thou lovest;
And wilt wot about wounds' searching
On the bark be they scored;
On the buds of trees
Whose boughs look eastward ever.
“Thought-runes shalt thou deal with
If thou wilt be of all men
Fairest-souled wight, and wisest;
These areded,
These first cut,
These first took to heart high Hropt.
“On the shield were they scored
That stands before the shining God,
On Early-waking's ear,
On All-knowing's hoof,
On the wheel which runneth
Under Rognir's chariot;
On Sleipnir's jaw-teeth,
On the sleigh's traces.
“On the rough bear's paws,
And on Bragi's tongue,

339

On the wolf's claws,
And on eagle's bill,
On bloody wings,
And bridge's end;
On loosing palms,
And pity's path:
“On glass, and on gold,
And on goodly silver,
In wine and in wort,
And the seat of the witch-wife;
On Gungnir's point,
And Grani's bosom;
On the Norn's nail,
And the neb of the night-owl.
“All these so cut,
Were shaven and sheared,
And mingled in with holy mead,
And sent upon wide ways enow;
Some abide with the Elves,
Some abide with the Æsir,
Or with the wise Vanir,
Some still hold the sons of mankind.
“These be the book-runes,
And the runes of good help,
And all the ale-runes,
And the runes of much might;
To whomso they may avail,
Unbewildered unspoilt;
They are wholesome to have:
Thrive thou with these then,
When thou hast learnt their lore,
Till the Gods end thy life-days.
“Now shalt thou choose thee
E'en as choice is bidden,
Sharp steel's root and stem,

340

Choose song or silence;
See to each in thy heart,
All hurt has been heeded.”

Then answered Sigurd:

“Ne'er shall I flee,
Though thou wottest me fey;
Never was I born for blenching,
Thy loved rede will I
Hold aright in my heart
Even as long as I may live.”