The Collected Works of William Morris With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris |
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| III, IV, V, VI. |
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| IX. |
| X. |
| XII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XXI. |
 | XXIV. |
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THE WOOING OF SWANHILD |
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 | The Collected Works of William Morris |  |
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THE WOOING OF SWANHILD
ARGUMENT
OF OLD TIME A CERTAIN KING, WELL STRICKEN IN YEARS, SENT HIS YOUNG SON TO WOO FOR HIM AN EXCEEDING FAIR MAIDEN, BUT, WHEREAS EVIL TONGUES WERE BUSY ABOUT THESE THREE, THE END OF IT WAS THAT THE YOUNG FOLK BEWRAYED THE OLD KING, AND, BEWRAYED IN THEIR TURN, DIED A TERRIBLE DEATH.
A King of the Goths there was as tells my tale
Men called Hermanaric, a man of might
Whose fortune midst all trouble did prevail;
High soared his joyful spirit many a night
Of battle won beneath his banner bright;
Bowed knees he knew, and trembling outstretched hands,
And shouts of welcome to new-conquered lands.
Men called Hermanaric, a man of might
Whose fortune midst all trouble did prevail;
High soared his joyful spirit many a night
Of battle won beneath his banner bright;
Bowed knees he knew, and trembling outstretched hands,
And shouts of welcome to new-conquered lands.
But now at last he sat him down in peace
Fain to forget that there was more to win,
Doubtful in dealing with his late-gained ease,
Mid the wide borders of his land, wherein
Whate'er there was of woe or fear or sin
But reached him when his great men bade him choose
If they should slay or save or bind or loose.
Fain to forget that there was more to win,
Doubtful in dealing with his late-gained ease,
Mid the wide borders of his land, wherein
Whate'er there was of woe or fear or sin
But reached him when his great men bade him choose
If they should slay or save or bind or loose.
Now mid his highest lords a man there was
Of forty summers, fair of speech and mien,
Well-liking, deft to bring all things to pass
That by the King's eyes they might so be seen
As though Hermanaric the Goth had been
The King of Paradise, and no more wrong
Than God, to give account to weak or strong.
Of forty summers, fair of speech and mien,
Well-liking, deft to bring all things to pass
That by the King's eyes they might so be seen
As though Hermanaric the Goth had been
The King of Paradise, and no more wrong
Than God, to give account to weak or strong.
Black-haired this lord was, thin-lipped, stern of brow,
As one fulfilled of justice; so when he
Gave mercy unto one beat down enow,
Strange sweetness seemed in that benignity
Wherewith his freed heart bade the wretch go free.
Folk trembled at his name, prayed for him, deemed
His death a hope that scarcely might be dreamed.
As one fulfilled of justice; so when he
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Strange sweetness seemed in that benignity
Wherewith his freed heart bade the wretch go free.
Folk trembled at his name, prayed for him, deemed
His death a hope that scarcely might be dreamed.
But whatsoe'er he was to other folk,
This lord called Bikki, to the King he grew
His right hand, yea his will, who, ere he spoke
The very thought his heart was big with knew;
Bold to do things the King had scarce dared do,
Yet would have done—no flatterer of the King,
Outspoken, fearing neither man nor thing.
This lord called Bikki, to the King he grew
His right hand, yea his will, who, ere he spoke
The very thought his heart was big with knew;
Bold to do things the King had scarce dared do,
Yet would have done—no flatterer of the King,
Outspoken, fearing neither man nor thing.
The King had seen him kind, and knew his word
A thing ne'er broken: when the last great strife
Was quenched in one huge battle Bikki's sword,
When every minute with all loss was rife,
Had been unto the King the hope of life,
And his calm heart had made full victory
Bloom from the barren sword-encompassed tree.
A thing ne'er broken: when the last great strife
Was quenched in one huge battle Bikki's sword,
When every minute with all loss was rife,
Had been unto the King the hope of life,
And his calm heart had made full victory
Bloom from the barren sword-encompassed tree.
So by the King's hands well-nigh Bikki ruled,
Yet in such wise that not to any there
It showed as though the King was much befooled,
And he, nigh sixty winters old, must bear,
As he was well content, both foul and fair,
Curses and blessings, seeming still to be
The God that gave both bliss and misery.
Yet in such wise that not to any there
It showed as though the King was much befooled,
And he, nigh sixty winters old, must bear,
As he was well content, both foul and fair,
Curses and blessings, seeming still to be
The God that gave both bliss and misery.
Yet one there was that had no wish to praise
The state of Bikki, e'en the King's one son,
A fair man in the spring-time of his days,
Who for his youth's sake few great deeds had done
And therewithal was strangely looked upon,
Unloved, unfeared, unknown by most of folk
Not kindly, men said, haughty when he spoke.
The state of Bikki, e'en the King's one son,
A fair man in the spring-time of his days,
Who for his youth's sake few great deeds had done
And therewithal was strangely looked upon,
Unloved, unfeared, unknown by most of folk
Not kindly, men said, haughty when he spoke.
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Unknown as he might be, yet was it so
That Bikki knew him, and he none the less,
As one unwitting, Bikki's heart did know
Which thing with all despair would him oppress
At whiles, and whiles would prick him to redress
The wrong that God upon the world had cast
And raise the burden from men's hearts at last.
That Bikki knew him, and he none the less,
As one unwitting, Bikki's heart did know
Which thing with all despair would him oppress
At whiles, and whiles would prick him to redress
The wrong that God upon the world had cast
And raise the burden from men's hearts at last.
For praise and love he longed for overmuch;
No sluggard was he, yet with such a soul
As pleasure somewhat overquick did touch,
As over-soon felt pain's cloud o'er it roll;
And much he lacked clear sight of any goal,
And lacked withal the power of lasting hate
Of being to any as relentless fate.
No sluggard was he, yet with such a soul
As pleasure somewhat overquick did touch,
As over-soon felt pain's cloud o'er it roll;
And much he lacked clear sight of any goal,
And lacked withal the power of lasting hate
Of being to any as relentless fate.
Note of these men too, that though Randver felt
The bright day darken when his foe drew nigh,
And though in Bikki's cruel heart there dwelt
Most strong intent to sweep his enemy
From out his path, yet scarce to any eye
Seemed Bikki to the prince but frank and kind,
Though somewhat sullen Randver did they find.
The bright day darken when his foe drew nigh,
And though in Bikki's cruel heart there dwelt
Most strong intent to sweep his enemy
From out his path, yet scarce to any eye
Seemed Bikki to the prince but frank and kind,
Though somewhat sullen Randver did they find.
Now in these days it fell out that the King
Would hold a great feast: thereat Bikki was
And Randver the King's son, and everything
In the most mirthful wise was brought to pass,
Till gleamed the summer moonlight through the glass,
Then mid a pleasant lull of the feast's noise
Unto the King cried Bikki in high voice:
Would hold a great feast: thereat Bikki was
And Randver the King's son, and everything
In the most mirthful wise was brought to pass,
Till gleamed the summer moonlight through the glass,
Then mid a pleasant lull of the feast's noise
Unto the King cried Bikki in high voice:
“In merry days, O King, we dwell with thee
E'en as this day, and wide around thy land
Is richly dowered with all felicity,
And all thy foes lie quiet neath thy hand,
And all men praise thee, praying that still may stand
Thy wise dominion; yet no God thou art;
Despite thy wealth one day must thou depart.
E'en as this day, and wide around thy land
Is richly dowered with all felicity,
And all thy foes lie quiet neath thy hand,
And all men praise thee, praying that still may stand
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Despite thy wealth one day must thou depart.
“And though we doubt not that, if this thy son
Shall live to reign when thou art fallen asleep,
Then neath the guiding hand of such an one
Our honour and our good-hap we shall keep,
Yet is he one alone—not over-deep
The sword need pierce, o'er-deep the arrow fly
For all thy race to perish utterly.”
Shall live to reign when thou art fallen asleep,
Then neath the guiding hand of such an one
Our honour and our good-hap we shall keep,
Yet is he one alone—not over-deep
The sword need pierce, o'er-deep the arrow fly
For all thy race to perish utterly.”
The King signed with his hand, as down the hall
A murmur rose, and smiled, and spake in turn:
“Meseems, O Bikki, that my thoughts do fall
From out thy lips; either the wine doth burn
Within me past its wont now, or I yearn
At waking-tides to see upon my bed
Hope of more sons, some fair Queen's goodlihead.
A murmur rose, and smiled, and spake in turn:
“Meseems, O Bikki, that my thoughts do fall
From out thy lips; either the wine doth burn
Within me past its wont now, or I yearn
At waking-tides to see upon my bed
Hope of more sons, some fair Queen's goodlihead.
“Speak out, O friend, what more thou hast to say,
For pleasant seems thy face, and well I know
Thou art not one to cast thy words away,
And as thou hast beheld my longing grow,
So unto me art thou good friend enow
A fair fulfilment thereunto to seek;
Speak out the name thy heart hath bade thee speak.”
For pleasant seems thy face, and well I know
Thou art not one to cast thy words away,
And as thou hast beheld my longing grow,
So unto me art thou good friend enow
A fair fulfilment thereunto to seek;
Speak out the name thy heart hath bade thee speak.”
“O King,” said Bikki, “scarce without the sound
Of harp and fiddle should I speak the name
Thou bidst me name—but bid the girls fill round
At least, and drink one cup unto the fame
Of one who feared not iron nor the flame,
Nor words of men, nor love to madness grown—
Sigurd, the best man that the world has known!”
Of harp and fiddle should I speak the name
Thou bidst me name—but bid the girls fill round
At least, and drink one cup unto the fame
Of one who feared not iron nor the flame,
Nor words of men, nor love to madness grown—
Sigurd, the best man that the world has known!”
Up stood the King, and through the hall there rang
A mighty shout; for fresh in each man's mind
That memory was; so mid the beakers' clang
Folk drank thereto, and brave and true and kind
Men 'gan to feel: but as one deaf and blind
Sat Randver, with his hand about his cup,
While to the roof men's boastful glee rolled up.
A mighty shout; for fresh in each man's mind
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Folk drank thereto, and brave and true and kind
Men 'gan to feel: but as one deaf and blind
Sat Randver, with his hand about his cup,
While to the roof men's boastful glee rolled up.
Then turned Hermanaric unto him and said:
“Grudgest thou then the fame of such an one,
Or me the late-come bliss of being well-wed
Unto his kin?—for as my friend's words run
That is the deed meseems that must be done—
Rise up for shame, man, lest I deem thee yet
No son that ever erst I did beget!”
“Grudgest thou then the fame of such an one,
Or me the late-come bliss of being well-wed
Unto his kin?—for as my friend's words run
That is the deed meseems that must be done—
Rise up for shame, man, lest I deem thee yet
No son that ever erst I did beget!”
Then Randver rose and said with troubled face,
In low voice: “Sigurd, wheresoe'er thou art
I drink to thee!—who in such happy case
Abode that thou wert loved, nor diedst apart
From her who was the nighest to thine heart—
So fell the shadows from thee—would that I
None otherwise than thus might live and die!”
In low voice: “Sigurd, wheresoe'er thou art
I drink to thee!—who in such happy case
Abode that thou wert loved, nor diedst apart
From her who was the nighest to thine heart—
So fell the shadows from thee—would that I
None otherwise than thus might live and die!”
Sourly his father looked on him, then turned
To Bikki, and said: “Yet methought, men tell
Of Sigurd that his young child slain was burned
Beside him on the fire, when that befell
Which long had been foretold for him; for well
The Niblungs willed none should be left behind
To grow up keeping their ill deed in mind.”
To Bikki, and said: “Yet methought, men tell
Of Sigurd that his young child slain was burned
Beside him on the fire, when that befell
Which long had been foretold for him; for well
The Niblungs willed none should be left behind
To grow up keeping their ill deed in mind.”
“Yea,” Bikki said, “so was it that there died
A man-child with him, but when Gudrun lay
Over her husband dead, within her side
There lay a child unborn—fair was the day
That saw her first, eighteen years past away—
A fair day in despite the tears and woe,
The tangled misery that she woke unto.”
A man-child with him, but when Gudrun lay
Over her husband dead, within her side
There lay a child unborn—fair was the day
That saw her first, eighteen years past away—
A fair day in despite the tears and woe,
The tangled misery that she woke unto.”
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Again the King spake: “Dreadful tales we heard
Of Gudrun wed to Atli, and how he
Entrapped the guileful Niblungs unafeared,
And how they died: and how at last that she
Slew both her children in her misery,
And of his own hall filled with swirling fire
Made for King Atli royal funeral pyre.”
Of Gudrun wed to Atli, and how he
Entrapped the guileful Niblungs unafeared,
And how they died: and how at last that she
Slew both her children in her misery,
And of his own hall filled with swirling fire
Made for King Atli royal funeral pyre.”
“Yea,” Bikki said, “such tale may one deem true,
Yet know for sure that on the yellow sand
She stood, not able any more to wail,
And foiled in gaining death, her cold white hand
And wet arm round her babe, in the fair land
Of Jonakur: because, folk say, the sea
Would nowise end her life and misery.
Yet know for sure that on the yellow sand
She stood, not able any more to wail,
And foiled in gaining death, her cold white hand
And wet arm round her babe, in the fair land
Of Jonakur: because, folk say, the sea
Would nowise end her life and misery.
“There the King wedded her, and there e'en now
She dwelleth: and the sea-drenched white-lipped child
Of that sad morn, fairer each day did grow
Till over her the Queen who ne'er had smiled
For many a year, is grown all kind and mild
Since of her babe Swanhild the Gods had care;
And in that court sweet pass the days and fair.”
She dwelleth: and the sea-drenched white-lipped child
Of that sad morn, fairer each day did grow
Till over her the Queen who ne'er had smiled
For many a year, is grown all kind and mild
Since of her babe Swanhild the Gods had care;
And in that court sweet pass the days and fair.”
Then the King smiled and said: “Hearkenest thou, son,
To what our counsellor saith, and deemest thou
That it were good we wedded such an one,
Daughter of Sigurd, were she fair enow
To look down from the throne, when, helm on brow,
And spear in hand the Goths go forth to war,
Wondering how fair the maids of Heaven are?”
To what our counsellor saith, and deemest thou
That it were good we wedded such an one,
Daughter of Sigurd, were she fair enow
To look down from the throne, when, helm on brow,
And spear in hand the Goths go forth to war,
Wondering how fair the maids of Heaven are?”
As Randver reddened, struggling with some word,
And the King's wrath seemed rising once again,
Bikki broke in: “Nay fear ye nought, fair lord,
That she of Sigurd should be come in vain!
She is so fair, folk say, that men are fain
She should not die or change—it shameth me
Somewhat to speak of such-like things to thee:
And the King's wrath seemed rising once again,
Bikki broke in: “Nay fear ye nought, fair lord,
That she of Sigurd should be come in vain!
She is so fair, folk say, that men are fain
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Somewhat to speak of such-like things to thee:
“For thou art old, I battered with much war,
And worn with thought of counselling thee at need,
Judging of men, all things that weary are,
And through all toil perchance nowhither lead:
And yet, Lord Randver, unto thee indeed
Meet might it be to hearken what folk say,
Poets and wandering folk, of this fair may!”
And worn with thought of counselling thee at need,
Judging of men, all things that weary are,
And through all toil perchance nowhither lead:
And yet, Lord Randver, unto thee indeed
Meet might it be to hearken what folk say,
Poets and wandering folk, of this fair may!”
A troubled frown gathered on Randver's brow
At Bikki's words, but nought he answered him,
Who spake: “Time was I had been fain enow
To hear of poets' guess of hidden limb
And swaying of the silk-clad body slim,
And what they say of hands like lily-flowers
Dealing a-morning with the golden showers
At Bikki's words, but nought he answered him,
Who spake: “Time was I had been fain enow
To hear of poets' guess of hidden limb
And swaying of the silk-clad body slim,
And what they say of hands like lily-flowers
Dealing a-morning with the golden showers
“Of hair that God shall never make again;
Their tale of lips too fair to love, of eyes
So bright that to behold them is a pain,
Of what it is to see the fall and rise
Of her fair fragrant bosom; what surprise
Of joy shall greet the happy man she loves,
When through the clouds the moon of midnight moves.”
Their tale of lips too fair to love, of eyes
So bright that to behold them is a pain,
Of what it is to see the fall and rise
Of her fair fragrant bosom; what surprise
Of joy shall greet the happy man she loves,
When through the clouds the moon of midnight moves.”
Randver sat moody-silent, and no less
The King withal, who smiling stroked his beard
Till at the last he woke from thoughtfulness,
And cried: “Well now that I thy tale have heard,
It seems a fair tale: neither are we feared
Of this King's saying nay to our desire
Since for the maiden scarce may he look higher.
The King withal, who smiling stroked his beard
Till at the last he woke from thoughtfulness,
And cried: “Well now that I thy tale have heard,
It seems a fair tale: neither are we feared
Of this King's saying nay to our desire
Since for the maiden scarce may he look higher.
“But let tomorn bring counsel, and more words
Concerning this last stem of a great race.
Drink to our fortune, son!—and ye, fair lords,
In all the earth let there be one glad place
Whatso of trouble the world without may chase
Through these fair hours of night that heed us not—
Drink and be glad for all that we have got!”
Concerning this last stem of a great race.
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In all the earth let there be one glad place
Whatso of trouble the world without may chase
Through these fair hours of night that heed us not—
Drink and be glad for all that we have got!”
So wore the feast through to an end: but when
The next morn came then withal Randver knew
That the King sat among his wisest men
In council: but the prince went not thereto
Nor was he summoned, for the days were few
Whereon the King would call him to the board
O'er which the great men dealt the treasured word.
The next morn came then withal Randver knew
That the King sat among his wisest men
In council: but the prince went not thereto
Nor was he summoned, for the days were few
Whereon the King would call him to the board
O'er which the great men dealt the treasured word.
But when noon came the King for Randver sent
Who found him lonely; and all eagerly
He 'gan to tell him of his full intent
How Swanhild in his kingly bed should lie:
“Lo son,” he said, “swift draweth eld anigh,
And I would live my life nor waste the days
Yet left me ere I travel on dark ways:
Who found him lonely; and all eagerly
He 'gan to tell him of his full intent
How Swanhild in his kingly bed should lie:
“Lo son,” he said, “swift draweth eld anigh,
And I would live my life nor waste the days
Yet left me ere I travel on dark ways:
“Therefore tomorrow a fair company
Shall take ship here, and in a noble keel
Make for King Jonak's land across the sea
Bearing great gifts, as coming not to steal
The maid, but in a royal fashion deal
With her and hers; and now my will it is
That thou and Bikki speed my hope in this.”
Shall take ship here, and in a noble keel
Make for King Jonak's land across the sea
Bearing great gifts, as coming not to steal
The maid, but in a royal fashion deal
With her and hers; and now my will it is
That thou and Bikki speed my hope in this.”
Now Randver reddened as the King made end,
And answered slowly: “Meet it is that I,
O father, on thine errands still should wend,
And bear aloft thy might and majesty;
Yet mindst thou not how in the haven lie
Things wherein thou too once wouldst have delight,
Fair long-ships with no maidens' pillows dight?
And answered slowly: “Meet it is that I,
O father, on thine errands still should wend,
And bear aloft thy might and majesty;
Yet mindst thou not how in the haven lie
Things wherein thou too once wouldst have delight,
Fair long-ships with no maidens' pillows dight?
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“Mindest thou not how word thou gavest me
That in what embers of the old strife burn,
Quickening our life yet, I myself should be
The captain and the leader? Sore I yearn
Among hard things a goodly name to earn;
For mid thy peaceful glory here I dwell
Mocked of myself by unrest none can tell.
That in what embers of the old strife burn,
Quickening our life yet, I myself should be
The captain and the leader? Sore I yearn
Among hard things a goodly name to earn;
For mid thy peaceful glory here I dwell
Mocked of myself by unrest none can tell.
“Mocked of myself—and, to speak out my heart,
Scarce looked upon by thee or any one
In such a wise, as well befits the part
That I should play on earth: with little done
Amid folk wont to see great marvels won—
Let me go, father, for the world is wide;
As lief would I be from my death to hide
Scarce looked upon by thee or any one
In such a wise, as well befits the part
That I should play on earth: with little done
Amid folk wont to see great marvels won—
Let me go, father, for the world is wide;
As lief would I be from my death to hide
“In homespun cloak as in a cloak of gold!”
His voice rose as he spake, and at the last
Nought wavering did there seem in him or cold:
But o'er the King's wide face a shadow passed
Of puzzled wrath; that no less faded fast
Before his son's eyes; and he smiled and said:
“Nowise the good-heart of our kin is dead;
His voice rose as he spake, and at the last
Nought wavering did there seem in him or cold:
But o'er the King's wide face a shadow passed
Of puzzled wrath; that no less faded fast
Before his son's eyes; and he smiled and said:
“Nowise the good-heart of our kin is dead;
“And well meseems is that—I have enow
To bring my bride home: in the days bygone
I should make such words just e'en as thou
Nor borne, when aught of fame was to be won,
To go my father's errands—I have done
As an old man in asking thee for this:
Go, son, and grudge me not a little bliss—
To bring my bride home: in the days bygone
I should make such words just e'en as thou
Nor borne, when aught of fame was to be won,
To go my father's errands—I have done
As an old man in asking thee for this:
Go, son, and grudge me not a little bliss—
“A little bliss such as my life knew not
The sooth to say ere I began to think
That after all my fame might be forgot
Or I at best into dull death must sink—
All blessings on thee! Would I had to drink
The cup the Fates have filled for thee anew!
Go forth O son, be happy, strong and true.”
The sooth to say ere I began to think
That after all my fame might be forgot
Or I at best into dull death must sink—
All blessings on thee! Would I had to drink
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Go forth O son, be happy, strong and true.”
Then Randver spake in a low voice and grave,
“All hail my father, and tomorrow morn
Two fleets shall stem together the green wave
At the haven's mouth, and unto days unborn
Shall each go its own way and ere the corn
The plain is green with now is garnered in
I hope a little change of life to win.
“All hail my father, and tomorrow morn
Two fleets shall stem together the green wave
At the haven's mouth, and unto days unborn
Shall each go its own way and ere the corn
The plain is green with now is garnered in
I hope a little change of life to win.
“Farewell in love, O father, if again
I see thy face it may be I shall speak
Words that my lips this day should speak in vain:
O farewell! think if I have been too weak
Through all the coils that mar our life to break,
Yet have I been too strong that with blind eyes
I should help weave our web of miseries.”
I see thy face it may be I shall speak
Words that my lips this day should speak in vain:
O farewell! think if I have been too weak
Through all the coils that mar our life to break,
Yet have I been too strong that with blind eyes
I should help weave our web of miseries.”
Then spake the King: “I know not of this word
What thou wouldst mean by it; once more I say
Good hap go with thy counsel and thy sword—
And yet again, meeter for thee to stay
Until thou mightest go upon thy way
After high feast and good gifts as is meet
For a son of the Goths and lord of a fair fleet.”
What thou wouldst mean by it; once more I say
Good hap go with thy counsel and thy sword—
And yet again, meeter for thee to stay
Until thou mightest go upon thy way
After high feast and good gifts as is meet
For a son of the Goths and lord of a fair fleet.”
“Nay,” Randver said, “thou wottest well that we
Have waited but a week for wind and now
The wind is fair—hold thou no feast for me,
Pinch not thy treasury to help my show—
Keep all thy gifts until my fame shall grow,
For now a banner and a name is all
I need wherewith to conquer or to fall.”
Have waited but a week for wind and now
The wind is fair—hold thou no feast for me,
Pinch not thy treasury to help my show—
Keep all thy gifts until my fame shall grow,
For now a banner and a name is all
I need wherewith to conquer or to fall.”
They kissed and parted; Randver to the quays
And tumult of the shipmen passed; the King
Sat silent thinking over long-past days
And gazing at the ghost of many a thing
That once was full of life—till hurrying
O'er his departure thither Bikki came
And thoughtfully the King called out his name,
And tumult of the shipmen passed; the King
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And gazing at the ghost of many a thing
That once was full of life—till hurrying
O'er his departure thither Bikki came
And thoughtfully the King called out his name,
And when he drew [nigh] said: “Did Randver pass
From out the palace?” “Yea,” he said, “and I
Rejoiced to see him blithesome as he was
As in the porch he passed me hurriedly;
Most well content he seemeth certainly
To go a-wooing for thee, yet belike
Fair blows one day his gilded sword shall strike.”
From out the palace?” “Yea,” he said, “and I
Rejoiced to see him blithesome as he was
As in the porch he passed me hurriedly;
Most well content he seemeth certainly
To go a-wooing for thee, yet belike
Fair blows one day his gilded sword shall strike.”
“Nay, Bikki,” said the King, “and is it so?
Thou growest envious—I have done him wrong:
High words he spake e'en now and needs must go
His own ways and not mine. His heart is strong
To win all glory mighty men among
And I am glad of him and so being glad
Must lose the sight of him that once I had
Thou growest envious—I have done him wrong:
High words he spake e'en now and needs must go
His own ways and not mine. His heart is strong
To win all glory mighty men among
And I am glad of him and so being glad
Must lose the sight of him that once I had
“Whenas I deemed him but of little worth.”
Then Bikki smiled. “Nay, me thou wrongest withal
Who ever deemed that all the fame of earth
Into the lap of thee and thine would fall
And therefore have so served thee: this I call
A happy day whereon he doth begin
E'en greater fame than thou belike to win.
Then Bikki smiled. “Nay, me thou wrongest withal
Who ever deemed that all the fame of earth
Into the lap of thee and thine would fall
And therefore have so served thee: this I call
A happy day whereon he doth begin
E'en greater fame than thou belike to win.
“Moreover in despite thy word, not ill
I deem it that this marvel of thy wife
(For surely few days shall that wish fulfill)
Should meet him not first mid an idle life,
Idle yet with desire of high things rife—
Thou deemedst him of little worth saidst thou?
Ever I deemed him wise and great enow:
I deem it that this marvel of thy wife
(For surely few days shall that wish fulfill)
Should meet him not first mid an idle life,
Idle yet with desire of high things rife—
Thou deemedst him of little worth saidst thou?
Ever I deemed him wise and great enow:
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“Knewest thou ever dastard's or fool's heart
Go with such eyes as in the head of him
Are set: or hast thou seen a coward's part
Played by a man so wrought in every limb?
Trust me those eyes shall yet make fair eyes dim.
But all is well now—brave and amorous
Wise, fain of fame, well shall he prop thine house.”
Go with such eyes as in the head of him
Are set: or hast thou seen a coward's part
Played by a man so wrought in every limb?
Trust me those eyes shall yet make fair eyes dim.
But all is well now—brave and amorous
Wise, fain of fame, well shall he prop thine house.”
Well pleased the King smiled e'en as Bikki went
From out the chamber—who at eve that day
Came upon Randver on the quays, intent
On furnishing his fleet in the best way
That might be, and light of heart and gay
He seemed indeed, as one at last set free
From tangling trouble and uncertainty.
From out the chamber—who at eve that day
Came upon Randver on the quays, intent
On furnishing his fleet in the best way
That might be, and light of heart and gay
He seemed indeed, as one at last set free
From tangling trouble and uncertainty.
A cloud came o'er his face as Bikki drew
Anigh him, and his cheek grew somewhat red
As though he wotted that the other knew
His inmost thought; but Bikki spake and said:
“Fair sight to me to see the goodlihead
Of this thy fleet! Thou lookest a great chief;
I look to hear of deeds past man's belief.”
Anigh him, and his cheek grew somewhat red
As though he wotted that the other knew
His inmost thought; but Bikki spake and said:
“Fair sight to me to see the goodlihead
Of this thy fleet! Thou lookest a great chief;
I look to hear of deeds past man's belief.”
By a great open arm-chest Randver stood
And his right hand amid the mail-rings played,
A vague blind hate curdled his eager blood
As he looked up to Bikki now and said
With a half smile: “If all be rightly weighed
This journey shall in after days become
More famed than mine—this bringing the may home.”
And his right hand amid the mail-rings played,
A vague blind hate curdled his eager blood
As he looked up to Bikki now and said
With a half smile: “If all be rightly weighed
This journey shall in after days become
More famed than mine—this bringing the may home.”
“Yea,” Bikki said, “yet as thou art my friend
More than my King's son, so much will I say,
That would the thing were well brought to an end,
And I as heart-whole as I am today!
I have heard tell of men who cast all life away
For such a hope as when I lie asleep
Betwixt my troth and vague desire will creep.”
More than my King's son, so much will I say,
That would the thing were well brought to an end,
And I as heart-whole as I am today!
I have heard tell of men who cast all life away
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Betwixt my troth and vague desire will creep.”
Randver stared wild at him. “Thou meanest then
That thou amid thy five and forty years
Shouldst turn stark traitor, be a tale to men!
Bethink thee, Bikki, that thy King's son wears
A sword, and of the axe the headsman bears—
Or art thou grown so great that thou art king,
Lord of my father, me and everything?”
That thou amid thy five and forty years
Shouldst turn stark traitor, be a tale to men!
Bethink thee, Bikki, that thy King's son wears
A sword, and of the axe the headsman bears—
Or art thou grown so great that thou art king,
Lord of my father, me and everything?”
Bikki smiled calmly: “When the deed is done
Then slay me: but behold I told this tale to thee
Because in good sooth still I deemed thee one
Too wise to long too much for sovereignty,
And therefore, thought I, goeth he over sea
Because he deems holding a war-ship's helm
An easier thing than ruling a great realm.
Then slay me: but behold I told this tale to thee
Because in good sooth still I deemed thee one
Too wise to long too much for sovereignty,
And therefore, thought I, goeth he over sea
Because he deems holding a war-ship's helm
An easier thing than ruling a great realm.
“But if thou art less wise than I had thought
And thinkest to come back unto this land
To rule it when thy sire is come to naught,
Then wiser had it been to glove thine hand
And in the court of Jonakur to stand
Wooing fair Swanhild for thy father's bed.
Come, art thou wroth when all my word is said?”
And thinkest to come back unto this land
To rule it when thy sire is come to naught,
Then wiser had it been to glove thine hand
And in the court of Jonakur to stand
Wooing fair Swanhild for thy father's bed.
Come, art thou wroth when all my word is said?”
There Randver stood a short while silently
The swift thoughts busy in his inmost mind:
Somewhat too glad to see the back of me
My father seemed—Bikki is left behind,
Hermanaric's heart grows day by day more blind—
Yea and may happen I may yet prevail
And death is left me even though I fail.
The swift thoughts busy in his inmost mind:
Somewhat too glad to see the back of me
My father seemed—Bikki is left behind,
Hermanaric's heart grows day by day more blind—
Yea and may happen I may yet prevail
And death is left me even though I fail.
Then Bikki spake: “The thing that erst I said
Whenas I deemed that thou wert prince no more,
No more thy father's heir, I scarce should dread
If thou went'st with me—and behold full sore
I cling to life nor would that all were o'er
For a youth's longing—neither durst I say
Unto the King what thee I tell today.”
Whenas I deemed that thou wert prince no more,
294
If thou went'st with me—and behold full sore
I cling to life nor would that all were o'er
For a youth's longing—neither durst I say
Unto the King what thee I tell today.”
Then Randver laughed aloud. “I deemed thee wise—
Nor know what madman's dream this is that thou
Shouldst tell me of a love for unseen eyes
Grown in an hour within thine heart; ere now
I deemed no wind maids' love to thee might blow.”
Then Bikki said: “Belike a dream it was
That brought this strange desire of mine to pass.
Nor know what madman's dream this is that thou
Shouldst tell me of a love for unseen eyes
Grown in an hour within thine heart; ere now
I deemed no wind maids' love to thee might blow.”
Then Bikki said: “Belike a dream it was
That brought this strange desire of mine to pass.
“Medreamed that on my bed last night I lay
And heard a moaning slowly drawing near,
And through the open door there came a may
Bewailing her, more fair than aught is fair
Who seemed unto my inmost heart more dear
Than mine own life. She held out hands to me
And showed her slim wrists shackled cruelly
And heard a moaning slowly drawing near,
And through the open door there came a may
Bewailing her, more fair than aught is fair
Who seemed unto my inmost heart more dear
Than mine own life. She held out hands to me
And showed her slim wrists shackled cruelly
“And moaned, ‘O Bikki thine hand forged me these
And who shall free me?’ On mine heart withal
Came thronging thick a crowd of memories
Of fair deeds undone, proffered love let fall
All barren to the earth—and musical
Mine own rough voice seemed grown now as I said:
‘In all wise would I help thy drearihead—
And who shall free me?’ On mine heart withal
Came thronging thick a crowd of memories
Of fair deeds undone, proffered love let fall
All barren to the earth—and musical
Mine own rough voice seemed grown now as I said:
‘In all wise would I help thy drearihead—
“‘For thou art Swanhild.’ Then she smiled on me
In piteous wise, and with bare hands I wrought,
As dreams will have it, till I set her free;
And then she kissed me and it passes thought
To tell how sweet that was till day made nought
Of all my gladness. Nay but well thou sayst
I am a fool to strive such bliss to taste.”
In piteous wise, and with bare hands I wrought,
As dreams will have it, till I set her free;
And then she kissed me and it passes thought
To tell how sweet that was till day made nought
Of all my gladness. Nay but well thou sayst
I am a fool to strive such bliss to taste.”
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Then Randver thought, Lies is it, nought but lies
Belike—and yet men tell strange tales of love,
And this man, forger of all miseries,
Who knows but somewhat might his hard heart move?
And lies or truth nowise doth it behove
A man to flee from fate and they meseems
Would have me to the end dream out these dreams.
Belike—and yet men tell strange tales of love,
And this man, forger of all miseries,
Who knows but somewhat might his hard heart move?
And lies or truth nowise doth it behove
A man to flee from fate and they meseems
Would have me to the end dream out these dreams.
Then he spake out: “What counsel givest thou
For me to follow? for thou knowest I deem
That the King gave right joyous leave e'en now
For my departing; neither will a dream
Hold back the word of dastard if I seem
To choose for my ease' sake to go with thee.”
“Nay,” Bikki said, “easy the thing shall be:
For me to follow? for thou knowest I deem
That the King gave right joyous leave e'en now
For my departing; neither will a dream
Hold back the word of dastard if I seem
To choose for my ease' sake to go with thee.”
“Nay,” Bikki said, “easy the thing shall be:
“Take thou tonight thy due seat at the board
And in meanwhile shall I have seen the King,
So say thou nought till he takes up the word,
Then answer at thy best e'en to such thing
As he shall say. Yea thou art wise to cling
To what the Fates have given into thy life—
Hard to build up great state from daily life.”
And in meanwhile shall I have seen the King,
So say thou nought till he takes up the word,
Then answer at thy best e'en to such thing
As he shall say. Yea thou art wise to cling
To what the Fates have given into thy life—
Hard to build up great state from daily life.”
He went therewith, and Randver left alone
Felt listless, restless, full of a vague fear;
A petty thing the world to him was grown,
And yet he felt as great days drew anear—
Great days great joy and woe with them to bear—
And yet withal foiled, beaten did he feel
And fresh defeat upon him seemed to steal.
Felt listless, restless, full of a vague fear;
A petty thing the world to him was grown,
And yet he felt as great days drew anear—
Great days great joy and woe with them to bear—
And yet withal foiled, beaten did he feel
And fresh defeat upon him seemed to steal.
Most glorious was the feast that night in hall
When all the glories of his days bygone
Hermanaric seemed about him to recall;
Yea with the spirit of old battles won
Men's hearts seemed raised aloft, old banners shone
From wall and pillar and old war-cries rang
Amid the melodies the minstrels sang.
When all the glories of his days bygone
Hermanaric seemed about him to recall;
Yea with the spirit of old battles won
Men's hearts seemed raised aloft, old banners shone
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Amid the melodies the minstrels sang.
There sat Hermanaric, ruddy, wide of face,
His yellow white-streaked hair and beard spread wide
Over his gold gown; keen adown the place
Gazed his grey eyes, unruffled fearless pride
All wrath and selfwill in his face did hide;
Great was the hand that had so oft prevailed
In dreadful fight, long fingered, almond-nailed.
His yellow white-streaked hair and beard spread wide
Over his gold gown; keen adown the place
Gazed his grey eyes, unruffled fearless pride
All wrath and selfwill in his face did hide;
Great was the hand that had so oft prevailed
In dreadful fight, long fingered, almond-nailed.
Uneasily did Randver gaze at him
As toward his place he went, and in his heart
The morn's clear vision now had grown all dim,
And in a net he seemed to play his part
In a strange land where by some devilish art
All that he had of good seemed turned to ill,
A petty peevish deedless dreamer still.
As toward his place he went, and in his heart
The morn's clear vision now had grown all dim,
And in a net he seemed to play his part
In a strange land where by some devilish art
All that he had of good seemed turned to ill,
A petty peevish deedless dreamer still.
Dream-like the feast went on—as in a dream
At last he heard the King say: “O fair son,
True is it that this morning we did deem
That whereas thou wert fain to get thee gone
From our foes' hands to win what might be won,
Thy wish was worthy of our name, yet now
Again a choice we give thee. So choose thou:
At last he heard the King say: “O fair son,
True is it that this morning we did deem
That whereas thou wert fain to get thee gone
From our foes' hands to win what might be won,
Thy wish was worthy of our name, yet now
Again a choice we give thee. So choose thou:
“Choose when thou once again hast heard me say
That gain we deem [it] that thy lips should speak
The words our heart has for the matchless may
Our counsellor tells of. Sure not far to seek
Hereafter shall times be to help the weak
And beat adown the strong. Yet make thy choice,
And either way well may thy heart rejoice.”
That gain we deem [it] that thy lips should speak
The words our heart has for the matchless may
Our counsellor tells of. Sure not far to seek
Hereafter shall times be to help the weak
And beat adown the strong. Yet make thy choice,
And either way well may thy heart rejoice.”
And now when Randver rose to meet the King
His iron scabbard clashed against the board,
And a pang took his heart, for in its ring
Seemed unto him a warning word,
And o'er his heart strange thoughts unbidden poured
And he grew dizzy, till across a space
Of gold and fair things he saw Bikki's face.
His iron scabbard clashed against the board,
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Seemed unto him a warning word,
And o'er his heart strange thoughts unbidden poured
And he grew dizzy, till across a space
Of gold and fair things he saw Bikki's face.
And then, what say I? even as a blank
Waiting for somewhat did his vexed heart grow
And all the tumult of his spirit sank.
Within himself he said, Scarce did I know
This man's power erst. Yet did he feel as though
Something there was that craved for help from him,
And with vague pity did his eyes wax dim.
Waiting for somewhat did his vexed heart grow
And all the tumult of his spirit sank.
Within himself he said, Scarce did I know
This man's power erst. Yet did he feel as though
Something there was that craved for help from him,
And with vague pity did his eyes wax dim.
“O father,” said he, at the last, “I choose
E'en that which seemeth to be most thy will,
My hope of glory at this tide to lose
The better all thy glory to fulfill:
And yet account me fain as ever still
To try myself amid the sweep of swords,
Nor deem my morning's speech but wind and words.”
E'en that which seemeth to be most thy will,
My hope of glory at this tide to lose
The better all thy glory to fulfill:
And yet account me fain as ever still
To try myself amid the sweep of swords,
Nor deem my morning's speech but wind and words.”
A short laugh laughed the King and said: “O son
Thanked be thou, as thy deeds shall be thy worth.”
Then fierce wrath fell on Randver, all alone,
Deserted did he feel amid the mirth
Wherewith the hall rang, and a hollow dearth
Of all desire and hope there seemed to be,
On coming days he brooded balefully.
Thanked be thou, as thy deeds shall be thy worth.”
Then fierce wrath fell on Randver, all alone,
Deserted did he feel amid the mirth
Wherewith the hall rang, and a hollow dearth
Of all desire and hope there seemed to be,
On coming days he brooded balefully.
And he alone, he thought, was in such mood
Of all men there, though the King once or twice
Cast looks at him that boded nothing good,
And Bikki glanced at him with eager eyes
Not noted of him: so in mirthful wise
Passed on the feast triumphant to its end,
And somewhat nearer death did all men wend.
Of all men there, though the King once or twice
Cast looks at him that boded nothing good,
And Bikki glanced at him with eager eyes
Not noted of him: so in mirthful wise
Passed on the feast triumphant to its end,
And somewhat nearer death did all men wend.
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By noon of the next day did Randver stand
Upon the ship's deck looking back to where
Quick lessening lay the hillsides of his land,
Striving to think if it were foul or fair
The aspect of the days to come—nought clear
Might he behold the road his feet must tread
Or know if hope his way adown it led.
Upon the ship's deck looking back to where
Quick lessening lay the hillsides of his land,
Striving to think if it were foul or fair
The aspect of the days to come—nought clear
Might he behold the road his feet must tread
Or know if hope his way adown it led.
At least the sense of weakness and defeat
That made his life seem ruined yesterday
Was dimmed withal: he felt as he might meet
Whatever trouble round his journey lay
Without complaint, and play out all the play
Hoping for little, fearing nought at all,
Till into time's waste all he was should fall.
That made his life seem ruined yesterday
Was dimmed withal: he felt as he might meet
Whatever trouble round his journey lay
Without complaint, and play out all the play
Hoping for little, fearing nought at all,
Till into time's waste all he was should fall.
Then Bikki came to him and said: “Fair lord,
Worse than my thought went matters yesternight.
The King has fools about him and some word
Has reached his ears from these in my despite
Nor might I strive this morn the thing to right
For fear of worsening them—Let be, for time
Shall help thee yet—high shall thy fortune climb:
Worse than my thought went matters yesternight.
The King has fools about him and some word
Has reached his ears from these in my despite
Nor might I strive this morn the thing to right
For fear of worsening them—Let be, for time
Shall help thee yet—high shall thy fortune climb:
“Because methinks I know thee such an one
Who will not strive a little thing to win,
Painfully doing what must needs be done
Hour by hour; but waiting to begin
Thou standest did the sky and earth raise din,
And Gods are on the earth—and then forsooth
The world shall see thy greatness and thy truth.”
Who will not strive a little thing to win,
Painfully doing what must needs be done
Hour by hour; but waiting to begin
Thou standest did the sky and earth raise din,
And Gods are on the earth—and then forsooth
The world shall see thy greatness and thy truth.”
He turned away when he had spoken this
Not as one mocking him, and Randver stood
Wondering what in such great words was amiss
Spoken so gravely too—that scarce seemed good
Despite of that—and yet withal his mood
Was softened by that speech, and Bikki seemed
A better man than Randver erst had deemed.
Not as one mocking him, and Randver stood
Wondering what in such great words was amiss
Spoken so gravely too—that scarce seemed good
Despite of that—and yet withal his mood
299
A better man than Randver erst had deemed.
So the time passed a ship-board: neither spoke
Much of the errand they were bound upon,
And Bikki never that past tale awoke
Of dream-brought longings, but of great things done
In days past spoke regretfully as one
Who still must be a useful drudge and thrall
To those on whom the world's good word should fall.
Much of the errand they were bound upon,
And Bikki never that past tale awoke
Of dream-brought longings, but of great things done
In days past spoke regretfully as one
Who still must be a useful drudge and thrall
To those on whom the world's good word should fall.
So sailing on ere eve of the sixth day
The shipmen saw King Jonak's land ahead
And in the morning midmost of a bay
Beset by mountains blue on either hand
They saw his city and made haste to stand
Toward shore, and ever as they neared the same
On every ship raised banners of great fame,
The shipmen saw King Jonak's land ahead
And in the morning midmost of a bay
Beset by mountains blue on either hand
They saw his city and made haste to stand
Toward shore, and ever as they neared the same
On every ship raised banners of great fame,
And o'er the shield-hung sides hung cloth of gold
And made the minstrels sweet and soft tunes sing;
And all men were arrayed fair to behold
Yet without sign of any warlike thing
As toward the town they sailed forth triumphing,
Save only that Prince Randver now was clad
In all the daintiest war-gear that he had.
And made the minstrels sweet and soft tunes sing;
And all men were arrayed fair to behold
Yet without sign of any warlike thing
As toward the town they sailed forth triumphing,
Save only that Prince Randver now was clad
In all the daintiest war-gear that he had.
A rich and goodly place it seemed to be,
Ships of strange fashion thronged the haven there,
And noble houses stood anigh the sea,
And up the slopes rose wall and tower fair
Guarding the many homes that therein were
From war and wrong. Then Bikki spake and said,
“A peaceful place mid the world's drearihead!
Ships of strange fashion thronged the haven there,
And noble houses stood anigh the sea,
And up the slopes rose wall and tower fair
Guarding the many homes that therein were
From war and wrong. Then Bikki spake and said,
“A peaceful place mid the world's drearihead!
“Were it not good, fair lord, in such a place
Neath this fair sky a little while to dwell
Beholding through the long day's hours some face
Thou lovedst most of all, that loved thee well,
Letting the world go its wild ways to tell
Wild stories of the cruel hearts and strong
That weigh the world down with resistless wrong?”
Neath this fair sky a little while to dwell
300
Thou lovedst most of all, that loved thee well,
Letting the world go its wild ways to tell
Wild stories of the cruel hearts and strong
That weigh the world down with resistless wrong?”
Nought answered Randver, but with face a-glow
Went forward, for betwixt the craft that lay
Thick in the haven passed the galley now,
And he felt happy and the sunny day
Seemed rife with hope as in time past away
When each new waking up was bright and strange
And in his own right hand lay all life's change.
Went forward, for betwixt the craft that lay
Thick in the haven passed the galley now,
And he felt happy and the sunny day
Seemed rife with hope as in time past away
When each new waking up was bright and strange
And in his own right hand lay all life's change.
And now ashore with all their state they went,
And as along the much thronged street they passed
Folk wondered much what all this glory meant
And many a look on Randver maidens cast
And well nigh deemed that now belike at last
Some God long worshipped all unseen had come
To look upon his people in their home.
And as along the much thronged street they passed
Folk wondered much what all this glory meant
And many a look on Randver maidens cast
And well nigh deemed that now belike at last
Some God long worshipped all unseen had come
To look upon his people in their home.
So in the King's hall were they made good cheer
When they had named themselves and land and lord,
And word was given them that the King would hear
Their speech if they had brought him any word
Concerning peaceful dealings or the sword
The morrow morn, when rested they should be
By food and sleep from tossing on the sea.
When they had named themselves and land and lord,
And word was given them that the King would hear
Their speech if they had brought him any word
Concerning peaceful dealings or the sword
The morrow morn, when rested they should be
By food and sleep from tossing on the sea.
But the next morn in great state were they brought
Unto the King, and Bikki on the way
Spake unto Randver: “What is now thy thought
Concerning that which we shall see today?
Is not this like an old dream passed away
And half forgotten? Hark how the bells ring!
Most certainly this is a mighty King.
Unto the King, and Bikki on the way
Spake unto Randver: “What is now thy thought
Concerning that which we shall see today?
Is not this like an old dream passed away
And half forgotten? Hark how the bells ring!
Most certainly this is a mighty King.
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“Yet is thy father mightier—she may live
A noble life, this maiden.” Red as blood
Waxed Randver as some answer he did give
Of little import; for it seemed nought good
That any man should know each changing mood
As this man knew it, and in pitying tone
Had Bikki spoken e'en as he had known
A noble life, this maiden.” Red as blood
Waxed Randver as some answer he did give
Of little import; for it seemed nought good
That any man should know each changing mood
As this man knew it, and in pitying tone
Had Bikki spoken e'en as he had known
The swelling pity in the prince's heart.
Then Bikki spake again: “Yea and thou too
Art born methinks to play a noble part
Who thinking not of that which thou wilt do
Shalt some day find thyself betwixt the two,
Sorrow and ease, and scarcely made thy choice—
Thy heart a maid great-hearted shall rejoice.”
Then Bikki spake again: “Yea and thou too
Art born methinks to play a noble part
Who thinking not of that which thou wilt do
Shalt some day find thyself betwixt the two,
Sorrow and ease, and scarcely made thy choice—
Thy heart a maid great-hearted shall rejoice.”
Then Randver would have answered, but withal
Out blared the trumpets and the street they turned
Into the square that lay before the hall,
Upon the steps whereof the bright sun burned
With steel and gold—and sorely Randver yearned
Even as one would see his lady by
When some great deed he doeth mightily.
Out blared the trumpets and the street they turned
Into the square that lay before the hall,
Upon the steps whereof the bright sun burned
With steel and gold—and sorely Randver yearned
Even as one would see his lady by
When some great deed he doeth mightily.
But in the hall deep shadowed did they wend
And as one in a dream did Randver see
A throne adown the steel grove's nether end
Whereon there sat arrayed majestically
A black-haired man not great, and by his knee
Upon the marble steps a youth there sat
Black-haired and short, and yet well-knit with that.
And as one in a dream did Randver see
A throne adown the steel grove's nether end
Whereon there sat arrayed majestically
A black-haired man not great, and by his knee
Upon the marble steps a youth there sat
Black-haired and short, and yet well-knit with that.
But by the King's right hand stood two men more,
Younger it seemed and of most mighty make,
Who with fierce grey eyes looked the Goth folk o'er
As though they had been ever fain to take
The spear and shield and deadly strife to wake
With men so well arrayed—yet did he gaze
Still as one dreaming for a woman's face.
Younger it seemed and of most mighty make,
Who with fierce grey eyes looked the Goth folk o'er
As though they had been ever fain to take
The spear and shield and deadly strife to wake
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Still as one dreaming for a woman's face.
And on the King's left hand did there sit one
A woman crowned upon a chair of state
From whose great eyes all restless grief was gone
Whose hands were folded ever as to wait
The hands that came not from the bonds of Fate;
Kind red her lips were yet, nor grown all white
The golden hair once wrought for man's delight.
A woman crowned upon a chair of state
From whose great eyes all restless grief was gone
Whose hands were folded ever as to wait
The hands that came not from the bonds of Fate;
Kind red her lips were yet, nor grown all white
The golden hair once wrought for man's delight.
Yea kind the eyes beneath the unwrinkled brow
Above the cheeks grown hollow, colourless,
That once were like the sky of dawn aglow.
Then many a thought on Randver's dream did press,
Scarce knew he if to fear or pity or bless
For Gudrun Giuki's daughter there he knew
And all the wild days she had laboured through.
Above the cheeks grown hollow, colourless,
That once were like the sky of dawn aglow.
Then many a thought on Randver's dream did press,
Scarce knew he if to fear or pity or bless
For Gudrun Giuki's daughter there he knew
And all the wild days she had laboured through.
No other woman there he saw, and while
He pondered dreamily on many a thing
Across King Jonak's face there came the smile
That well befits the visage of a king
When all his life goes forward triumphing,
And down the hall his voice came round and fair,
Meet for the glory that was gathered there.
He pondered dreamily on many a thing
Across King Jonak's face there came the smile
That well befits the visage of a king
When all his life goes forward triumphing,
And down the hall his voice came round and fair,
Meet for the glory that was gathered there.
“Good welcome to you, Goths, and chief of all
To thee, King's Son, whether thou comest here
To pass fair days with us in festival,
Or weighty matters of goodwill dost bear!
Yea welcome still if news of war and fear
Thou carriest, since every man's last day
Awaits him unseen on his changing way.”
To thee, King's Son, whether thou comest here
To pass fair days with us in festival,
Or weighty matters of goodwill dost bear!
Yea welcome still if news of war and fear
Thou carriest, since every man's last day
Awaits him unseen on his changing way.”
Then Randver spake rather from memory still
Of things that like a dream or an old tale
Hung round him than from any present will:
“All hail, O King! no news of war or bale
We bring thee, yet are earnest to prevail
In asking a great gift of thee, that yet
Scarce shall a worthier man than this one get
Of things that like a dream or an old tale
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“All hail, O King! no news of war or bale
We bring thee, yet are earnest to prevail
In asking a great gift of thee, that yet
Scarce shall a worthier man than this one get
“Who asketh thee thereof now. King, men say
That in thine house there dwelleth such an one
That all the world holds not so fair a may
And her we ask—Is my speech well begun?
For if not, ere this glittering morning sun
Has come to his full height our oars shall smite
The green waves of your haven into white.”
That in thine house there dwelleth such an one
That all the world holds not so fair a may
And her we ask—Is my speech well begun?
For if not, ere this glittering morning sun
Has come to his full height our oars shall smite
The green waves of your haven into white.”
Then spake King Jonak somewhat eagerly:
“Yea for thyself then askest thou this maid?”
There seemed a murmuring in the air anigh,
Why not, why not? as Randver spake and said,
“The King my father all due things has weighed
And deemeth nothing may fulfill his bliss
Or cure past trouble save the gaining this.
“Yea for thyself then askest thou this maid?”
There seemed a murmuring in the air anigh,
Why not, why not? as Randver spake and said,
“The King my father all due things has weighed
And deemeth nothing may fulfill his bliss
Or cure past trouble save the gaining this.
“He sayeth also that thy realm is great
And rich, abiding ever in good peace,
But biddeth thee take heed of wavering fate,
To look around and note the world's disease,
And how the grey wolf howls through palaces
Where once a great lord scarce might raise his voice
Unless its sound should make the king rejoice;
And rich, abiding ever in good peace,
But biddeth thee take heed of wavering fate,
To look around and note the world's disease,
And how the grey wolf howls through palaces
Where once a great lord scarce might raise his voice
Unless its sound should make the king rejoice;
“Therewith he bids thee call to mind how oft
Hermanaric's crest through doubt and fear hath shone,
The banner of the Goths been raised aloft
When some great folk must needs with day be done;
He asketh thee if thou wilt call him son
And from his restful scabbard draw his sword
If evil threats thee with thy lightest word.”
Hermanaric's crest through doubt and fear hath shone,
The banner of the Goths been raised aloft
When some great folk must needs with day be done;
He asketh thee if thou wilt call him son
And from his restful scabbard draw his sword
If evil threats thee with thy lightest word.”
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A little space was silence now, the while
King Jonak with his exultation strove
That he might answer like a king; a smile
Somewhat the war-worn face of Bikki now did move,
And Randver's eyes met Gudrun's from above
[Bending] upon [him] with a doubtful gaze
Where fear and pity, yea e'en hate had place.
King Jonak with his exultation strove
That he might answer like a king; a smile
Somewhat the war-worn face of Bikki now did move,
And Randver's eyes met Gudrun's from above
[Bending] upon [him] with a doubtful gaze
Where fear and pity, yea e'en hate had place.
Then spake the King: “Thanks at the least we give
To thee for thy fair speech, prince; for thy sire,
Although we hope without his aid to live
And rule our folk in peace, yet we desire
Beyond all things to draw unto us nigher
So great a king whom all the world doth praise
For his great heart and life and happy days.
To thee for thy fair speech, prince; for thy sire,
Although we hope without his aid to live
And rule our folk in peace, yet we desire
Beyond all things to draw unto us nigher
So great a king whom all the world doth praise
For his great heart and life and happy days.
“Yet must we hold some counsel with our lords
This day at least, and making no delay
Give thee thine answer in all loving words
Whether we needs must answer Yea or Nay.
So with good heart take our good cheer today
And fair things for a memory of this morn.”
Then forth on both sides were the fair gifts borne,
This day at least, and making no delay
Give thee thine answer in all loving words
Whether we needs must answer Yea or Nay.
So with good heart take our good cheer today
And fair things for a memory of this morn.”
Then forth on both sides were the fair gifts borne,
And men's eyes glistened such as looked for gain.
But 'twixt the King and Queen sat Randver now
Amid fair talk, although a restless pain,
Whose seed and root no troublous search would show,
Was at his heart and still on him did grow
Craving to be alone a little while,
All things about him seemed so base and vile—
But 'twixt the King and Queen sat Randver now
Amid fair talk, although a restless pain,
Whose seed and root no troublous search would show,
Was at his heart and still on him did grow
Craving to be alone a little while,
All things about him seemed so base and vile—
All things save Gudrun who in kindly wise
Sat hearkening, whose faint smile would die away
At whiles e'en as the shimmering sunlight dies
About the noon of some wild rainy day,
At whiles she seemed as she her hand would lay
On his caressingly, then with a frown
And helpless look would let her hand fall down.
Sat hearkening, whose faint smile would die away
At whiles e'en as the shimmering sunlight dies
About the noon of some wild rainy day,
At whiles she seemed as she her hand would lay
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And helpless look would let her hand fall down.
But howsoe'er betwixt these twain it went,
Or Bikki watching them, o'erlong it were
To tell of all the glee wherein was spent
That summer day. Joyous seemed all folk there,
Nor had the Goths seen anything more fair
Than the King's house arrayed all suddenly
For feast as if for men who need should die.
Or Bikki watching them, o'erlong it were
To tell of all the glee wherein was spent
That summer day. Joyous seemed all folk there,
Nor had the Goths seen anything more fair
Than the King's house arrayed all suddenly
For feast as if for men who need should die.
So wore the day until the sun was low
And Randver in his chamber sat alone
At last, and felt the scented west wind blow
From out the garden, hearkening to the moan
Of the low surf, and song of thrushes grown
O'er joyous with the coming of the dew,
And the late 'wildered bees that scantly flew
And Randver in his chamber sat alone
At last, and felt the scented west wind blow
From out the garden, hearkening to the moan
Of the low surf, and song of thrushes grown
O'er joyous with the coming of the dew,
And the late 'wildered bees that scantly flew
From lily-flower to lime tree: sitting so
And pondering, did one smite upon the door
And entering bowed before him, bid him know
That fain the Queen was ere the day was o'er
To show him 'twixt the palace and the shore
How fair the birds sang. So he went with him
Just as the sea sucked down the sun's last rim.
And pondering, did one smite upon the door
And entering bowed before him, bid him know
That fain the Queen was ere the day was o'er
To show him 'twixt the palace and the shore
How fair the birds sang. So he went with him
Just as the sea sucked down the sun's last rim.
A little time they went whenas they met,
Gudrun and he, alone between the trees
Not speaking much until a hand she set
Upon his shoulder and said: “Would the seas
Had been red flame to stay you, that some peace
I might have gained this latter end of life!
O me, O me, again beginneth strife!”
Gudrun and he, alone between the trees
Not speaking much until a hand she set
Upon his shoulder and said: “Would the seas
Had been red flame to stay you, that some peace
I might have gained this latter end of life!
O me, O me, again beginneth strife!”
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He shuddered and she said: “Thou knowest not,
For thou art young—art young—all hope thou hast,
I know thee that thy heart may well grow hot
With the sweet poison that for me is past
So long ago—poor man, thou shalt be cast
Into an endless sea of strife and ill
And good it were if I might save thee still.”
For thou art young—art young—all hope thou hast,
I know thee that thy heart may well grow hot
With the sweet poison that for me is past
So long ago—poor man, thou shalt be cast
Into an endless sea of strife and ill
And good it were if I might save thee still.”
“Lady,” he said, “I wot not of thy words
What they should mean! my life is scarce begun;
I think indeed to try me mid the swords
When this vain day of court-serving is done:
But then—what then? all life beneath the sun
Is full of risk and trouble, little ruth
Is due to me slain mid the swords forsooth.”
What they should mean! my life is scarce begun;
I think indeed to try me mid the swords
When this vain day of court-serving is done:
But then—what then? all life beneath the sun
Is full of risk and trouble, little ruth
Is due to me slain mid the swords forsooth.”
“Hearken,” she said, “thou seemest true and brave
Though thou mayst deem but raving that I say:
A wise man and a true nearby I have
Called Ulf the Red; at morn of this same day
His long-ship ready for fair cruising lay
Nor did he stop save this same feast to see:
Now him and his and life I give to thee.”
Though thou mayst deem but raving that I say:
A wise man and a true nearby I have
Called Ulf the Red; at morn of this same day
His long-ship ready for fair cruising lay
Nor did he stop save this same feast to see:
Now him and his and life I give to thee.”
He started: “Surely,” said he, “this I know
That thou wouldst have me straightway get me gone,
And in my mind a glimmering thought doth grow
That thou for some cause deemst me such an one
That I should cheat the man who sent his son
To win him bliss and honour—hastily
I speak, for haste within thy words doth lie.”
That thou wouldst have me straightway get me gone,
And in my mind a glimmering thought doth grow
That thou for some cause deemst me such an one
That I should cheat the man who sent his son
To win him bliss and honour—hastily
I speak, for haste within thy words doth lie.”
“O haste enow,” she said, “else might I tell
A many signs to thee whereby I deem
That most strong longing on thy spirit fell
Ere thou might'st know it, fostered by some dream
A wake or sleeping, or words that did seem
To hold up hope or pleasure to thine eyes—
How should I tell? but born in dreadful wise.”
A many signs to thee whereby I deem
That most strong longing on thy spirit fell
Ere thou might'st know it, fostered by some dream
A wake or sleeping, or words that did seem
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How should I tell? but born in dreadful wise.”
He said: “Tomorrow would I answer thee:
Fain would I commune with myself this night.”
“Nay, ere men sleep begins the misery—
O man, O man! when thou hast her in thy sight
How shalt thou bear to let that dear delight
Pass without thee adown life's dismal road?
How shalt thou bear the unhelped lonely load?”
Fain would I commune with myself this night.”
“Nay, ere men sleep begins the misery—
O man, O man! when thou hast her in thy sight
How shalt thou bear to let that dear delight
Pass without thee adown life's dismal road?
How shalt thou bear the unhelped lonely load?”
How sweet the eve was! twixt the garden trees
The new-risen moon showed now and sweeter scent
The lily cast forth neath the dewy breeze
And round their heads flittering the dusk bats went:
He hearkened and knew all her swift words meant,
But sweet and sweet and sweet they seemed to him,
No pain there seemed in them however dim.
The new-risen moon showed now and sweeter scent
The lily cast forth neath the dewy breeze
And round their heads flittering the dusk bats went:
He hearkened and knew all her swift words meant,
But sweet and sweet and sweet they seemed to him,
No pain there seemed in them however dim.
His heart beat quick as with some joy new gained,
As silent there he stood awhile, the night
Strode on apace and the light west wind waned
And she stood silent watching him, till bright
The house 'gan glow with new-lit light on light
And noise of much folk hurrying to the hall,
For well nigh ready was the festival.
As silent there he stood awhile, the night
Strode on apace and the light west wind waned
And she stood silent watching him, till bright
The house 'gan glow with new-lit light on light
And noise of much folk hurrying to the hall,
For well nigh ready was the festival.
Then spake she in a low hard voice: “Vain love—
The vain love of my life and vainer still
The life that nothing other folk may move!
O Gods that make alive that ye may kill,
And give that ye may take away, your will
In other worlds should needs work something good
Since here your chosen dwell mid tears and blood!
The vain love of my life and vainer still
The life that nothing other folk may move!
O Gods that make alive that ye may kill,
And give that ye may take away, your will
In other worlds should needs work something good
Since here your chosen dwell mid tears and blood!
“And now at last the image of old days
Drifts from me into mortal change and strife
Where this man seeing but flower-tangled ways
Pities not her nor me nor his own life,
And Sigurd has no memory of the wife—
Ah not his love, but she who dwelt with him
Ere yet the glory of the world waxed dim.
Drifts from me into mortal change and strife
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Pities not her nor me nor his own life,
And Sigurd has no memory of the wife—
Ah not his love, but she who dwelt with him
Ere yet the glory of the world waxed dim.
“Ah me how kind, how kind I might have been—
Had I been loved—” She sought his dreaming eyes
Amid the soft night's gathering dusk of green
Until strange passion in her breast 'gan rise
And on his breast she laid in eager wise
A trembling hand and cried: “Not all so ill
Thou choosest, son! short life with woe to fill
Had I been loved—” She sought his dreaming eyes
Amid the soft night's gathering dusk of green
Until strange passion in her breast 'gan rise
And on his breast she laid in eager wise
A trembling hand and cried: “Not all so ill
Thou choosest, son! short life with woe to fill
“And be beloved—and be beloved as I
Was never loved who yet for all good peace
I might, would cast no longing by
Nor change my misery for the world's increase
Of all good things!—O we at least with these
Will deal not waiting dully for the tide
When stripped and shivering death we must abide!”
Was never loved who yet for all good peace
I might, would cast no longing by
Nor change my misery for the world's increase
Of all good things!—O we at least with these
Will deal not waiting dully for the tide
When stripped and shivering death we must abide!”
Then from the palace out the trumpets blared,
And growing clamour came across the night,
And through the trees afar the torches flared
As seeking betwixt rose and lily white
The King's folk went. “Hearken,” she said, “delight
Awaiteth many a careless man this eve,
And thou—thou goest thither to receive
And growing clamour came across the night,
And through the trees afar the torches flared
As seeking betwixt rose and lily white
The King's folk went. “Hearken,” she said, “delight
Awaiteth many a careless man this eve,
And thou—thou goest thither to receive
“A strange new life that beareth death withal;
For doubt thou not thy wooing well hath sped,
And on thine offer King and lords did fall
As falls a starving man on new baked bread.
I hate thee not, yet would thou hadst been dead
A month agone! would that the Gothic land
Lay waste and kingless 'neath some conqueror's hand!
For doubt thou not thy wooing well hath sped,
And on thine offer King and lords did fall
As falls a starving man on new baked bread.
I hate thee not, yet would thou hadst been dead
A month agone! would that the Gothic land
Lay waste and kingless 'neath some conqueror's hand!
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“Ah me I rave, yet hearken once again:
That councillor that on thy right [hand] stood,
Either my ancient foresight is all vain
Or thou and I from him may hope no good—
I know the eyes and mouth that thirst for blood.”
Then as one wakened, toward her Randver turned,
And in his eyes a strange and new light burned.
That councillor that on thy right [hand] stood,
Either my ancient foresight is all vain
Or thou and I from him may hope no good—
I know the eyes and mouth that thirst for blood.”
Then as one wakened, toward her Randver turned,
And in his eyes a strange and new light burned.
He spake:“Thanks have thou, O great-hearted Queen,
For all thy words! Natheless thou wrongest me,
Whatever idle dreams in me have been,
If still thou deemest that on thine and thee
My hands shall lay the weight of misery.
For though thy Swanhild's loveliness should move
My dreamy fiery heart to utter love,
For all thy words! Natheless thou wrongest me,
Whatever idle dreams in me have been,
If still thou deemest that on thine and thee
My hands shall lay the weight of misery.
For though thy Swanhild's loveliness should move
My dreamy fiery heart to utter love,
“Yet fear me not, for I might live worse life
Than such a love about with me to bear
To make my hands the stronger in all strife,
And make my heart the freer from all fear
Since I should care nought for what most men care—
Perchance at last to fall asleep and find
That she at last was grown mine own and kind.
Than such a love about with me to bear
To make my hands the stronger in all strife,
And make my heart the freer from all fear
Since I should care nought for what most men care—
Perchance at last to fall asleep and find
That she at last was grown mine own and kind.
“Be merrier, Queen, for where she goeth indeed
May I not serve her as a very friend
Where not unlike it is that she shall need
True heart to help her ere her life-days end,
So that we twain unto death's door may wend
With hands not touching aught, heart free from heart,
Yet scarcely lonely though so nigh apart.”
May I not serve her as a very friend
Where not unlike it is that she shall need
True heart to help her ere her life-days end,
So that we twain unto death's door may wend
With hands not touching aught, heart free from heart,
Yet scarcely lonely though so nigh apart.”
She answered not save only with a sigh,
And in the dusk eve did he deem withal
He saw her smile; but those drew anigh
Who bore the torches, and the flowers did fall
Brushed by the stiff gold robes as toward the hall
They passed together, talking of such things
As well befit the lives of Queens and Kings.
And in the dusk eve did he deem withal
He saw her smile; but those drew anigh
Who bore the torches, and the flowers did fall
Brushed by the stiff gold robes as toward the hall
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As well befit the lives of Queens and Kings.
High feast in hall that eve, great joyance there
Of pageant and of song while men did eat.
The very maidens that the cups did bear
About the Gothic guests' adorned seat
Were clad in raiment for Kings' daughters meet,
And as the scented tapers burned away
From off their sides waned figures painted gay.
Of pageant and of song while men did eat.
The very maidens that the cups did bear
About the Gothic guests' adorned seat
Were clad in raiment for Kings' daughters meet,
And as the scented tapers burned away
From off their sides waned figures painted gay.
Scarcely the Goths deemed they had seen ere then
Such weight of gold and silver nobly wrought,
Or such rich raiment on the serving-men,
Or drank such goodly wine from far lands brought.
Shortly to say in glory passing thought,
Such careful state as though men's lives should last
For ever, to its midst that great feast passed.
Such weight of gold and silver nobly wrought,
Or such rich raiment on the serving-men,
Or drank such goodly wine from far lands brought.
Shortly to say in glory passing thought,
Such careful state as though men's lives should last
For ever, to its midst that great feast passed.
Then flushed were men with glory and with wine,
And many rash words to their lips did rise
As more and more they deemed themselves divine;
But Randver sat with restless troubled eyes,
Glancing about aweary, anxious-wise,
From Bikki's laugh and the King's merry face
To Gudrun's sad set smile, till the glad place
And many rash words to their lips did rise
As more and more they deemed themselves divine;
But Randver sat with restless troubled eyes,
Glancing about aweary, anxious-wise,
From Bikki's laugh and the King's merry face
To Gudrun's sad set smile, till the glad place
Seemed filled with foolish shadows round about,
Dread lurking hate and guile and baffled love;
And yet a strange hope struggled with his doubt
And whiles his heart beat high with thought to prove
How yet his secret love the world should move,
For now at last he knew how it should be
When he that face the world's desire should see.
Dread lurking hate and guile and baffled love;
And yet a strange hope struggled with his doubt
And whiles his heart beat high with thought to prove
How yet his secret love the world should move,
For now at last he knew how it should be
When he that face the world's desire should see.
Now made the King a sign and forthwithal
Loud sang the horns shattering 'gainst the high
Adorned roof, and down the joyous hall
Was silence when their noise died utterly.
And then afar off a low melody
Sprang up and seemed drawing nigh but slow,
As if the folk who made it lingered now.
Loud sang the horns shattering 'gainst the high
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Was silence when their noise died utterly.
And then afar off a low melody
Sprang up and seemed drawing nigh but slow,
As if the folk who made it lingered now.
Then Randver noted Bikki grow right grave,
And how the Queen flushed and the King meanwhile
Seemed struggling all his kingly grace to save
From mere delight—and Randver a faint smile
Strove somewhat his wild faintness to beguile
And even this he said: If it should be
That all my hope was but vain mockery!
And how the Queen flushed and the King meanwhile
Seemed struggling all his kingly grace to save
From mere delight—and Randver a faint smile
Strove somewhat his wild faintness to beguile
And even this he said: If it should be
That all my hope was but vain mockery!
But amid this the music grew all loud,
The hall-doors swung aback and through them came
Into the hall so fair and strange a crowd
That the Goths' wonder has not any name;
For in their foremost did great tapers flame
And down the hall a day-like lustre shed
From hands of damsels white-clad, garlanded.
The hall-doors swung aback and through them came
Into the hall so fair and strange a crowd
That the Goths' wonder has not any name;
For in their foremost did great tapers flame
And down the hall a day-like lustre shed
From hands of damsels white-clad, garlanded.
Then came the music, maids and children fair,
Flushed sweet with summer, bright-eyed with delight,
So clad that cantles of the meads seemed there
Whereas their raiment 'neath young limbs and light
Went wavering underneath the harp-strings bright,
And down the hall there came a marvellous scent
As though the summer through its portals went.
Flushed sweet with summer, bright-eyed with delight,
So clad that cantles of the meads seemed there
Whereas their raiment 'neath young limbs and light
Went wavering underneath the harp-strings bright,
And down the hall there came a marvellous scent
As though the summer through its portals went.
More maids withal, each holding in her hand
Lily or rose-bough, clad in such a wise
As though the summer never left the land
And they need hide but little from the eyes
Of the brown thrush hushed by the mysteries
Of moon-blessed woods now on the high tree swayed.
Lily or rose-bough, clad in such a wise
As though the summer never left the land
And they need hide but little from the eyes
Of the brown thrush hushed by the mysteries
Of moon-blessed woods now on the high tree swayed.
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But round the hindermost of these were slung
Baskets of thin woven silver wherefrom they
Sweet rose-leaves on the marble pavement flung,
Making thereon a soft and odorous way
For feet that were to follow, and the day
Might well come back for midmost night to show
Her aspect that adown that path did go.
Baskets of thin woven silver wherefrom they
Sweet rose-leaves on the marble pavement flung,
Making thereon a soft and odorous way
For feet that were to follow, and the day
Might well come back for midmost night to show
Her aspect that adown that path did go.
Gold-clad she was, gold-shod and crowned with gold,
So that her raiment like herself might seem
Too delicate for mere men to behold,
Yet she herself looked not like any dream,
Nay rather, mid the changing flush and gleam
Of moving limbs and waving raiment, she
Seemed the one noble fair reality.
So that her raiment like herself might seem
Too delicate for mere men to behold,
Yet she herself looked not like any dream,
Nay rather, mid the changing flush and gleam
Of moving limbs and waving raiment, she
Seemed the one noble fair reality.
I know not what within her eyes there was
More than in other sweet and passionate eyes,
I know not what across her mouth did pass
More than o'er others wrought in wondrous wise,
With what snare heaved the store-house of her sighs
More than another's wrought supremely fair:
Yet went all madness and desire there
More than in other sweet and passionate eyes,
I know not what across her mouth did pass
More than o'er others wrought in wondrous wise,
With what snare heaved the store-house of her sighs
More than another's wrought supremely fair:
Yet went all madness and desire there
Whereas she went adown the silent hall
Nor might one call her eager or at peace,
Nor stern nor kind, nor glad nor sorry at all,
Nor full of love nor lacking love's increase,
And yet above and ruling all of these
Not bound by love nor binding it but more
Herself the very love she did adore.
Nor might one call her eager or at peace,
Nor stern nor kind, nor glad nor sorry at all,
Nor full of love nor lacking love's increase,
And yet above and ruling all of these
Not bound by love nor binding it but more
Herself the very love she did adore.
The hall was silent for a while, and then
Upleapt the Goths unto their feet, and high
Their wild shout rang and in the hands of men
Gleamed the white steel and tossed tumultuously
Round the white face of Randver; but one cry
Unheard amid the tumult had he given
As though his heart with unnamed pangs was riven.
Upleapt the Goths unto their feet, and high
Their wild shout rang and in the hands of men
Gleamed the white steel and tossed tumultuously
Round the white face of Randver; but one cry
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As though his heart with unnamed pangs was riven.
Bikki himself was pale a little while
And a strange frown made dark his wide clear brow
That gave place soon unto a lip-made smile
The eyes might make no answer to: but now
She drew anigh. King Jonak flushed did grow
And raised his cup twice, then spake out and said:
“O King's son, have thou here the goodlihead
And a strange frown made dark his wide clear brow
That gave place soon unto a lip-made smile
The eyes might make no answer to: but now
She drew anigh. King Jonak flushed did grow
And raised his cup twice, then spake out and said:
“O King's son, have thou here the goodlihead
“That thou hast asked for for thy father's sake,
Knowing not what thou askedst; and thou maid,
Draw nigh unto him, give a kiss and take—
For he is now thy son.” As the King said
These words, 'gan Gudrun tremble, and she laid
Her hands upon her chair as if to rise,
Gazing about with wild and wandering eyes.
Knowing not what thou askedst; and thou maid,
Draw nigh unto him, give a kiss and take—
For he is now thy son.” As the King said
These words, 'gan Gudrun tremble, and she laid
Her hands upon her chair as if to rise,
Gazing about with wild and wandering eyes.
But Randver, when he felt her hand in his
And all the heaven of her sweet lips drew nigh,
Faltered no more nor shrank away from bliss
When on his lips at last her lips did lie,
And when the little space had clean gone by
Wherein they touched so, a strange happy smile
The pallor of his changed face did beguile.
And all the heaven of her sweet lips drew nigh,
Faltered no more nor shrank away from bliss
When on his lips at last her lips did lie,
And when the little space had clean gone by
Wherein they touched so, a strange happy smile
The pallor of his changed face did beguile.
But she was changed and for a little space
Piteous and wild her eyes were, till at last
They met as in a dream her mother's face
Kind and imploring: then the anguish passed
From out her face and round about she cast
A glance by inner agony made cold
But durst no more the prince's eyes behold.
Piteous and wild her eyes were, till at last
They met as in a dream her mother's face
Kind and imploring: then the anguish passed
From out her face and round about she cast
A glance by inner agony made cold
But durst no more the prince's eyes behold.
Yet must she sit betwixt him and her sire
And hearken to his voice and wonder how
Amid the bitterness of his desire
He spake of common things, for surely now
She did not fail her heart and his to know,
And she fell wondering when the time should be
When she alone his lonely eyes should see.
And hearken to his voice and wonder how
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He spake of common things, for surely now
She did not fail her heart and his to know,
And she fell wondering when the time should be
When she alone his lonely eyes should see.
Strange minutes heavy laden to these twain
With bitterness and joy, so real, so strange,
Wherein now nothing more seemed left to gain,
Now nothing gained of all the wondrous change
Had left them yearning for, and still did range
From utter woe to utter bliss each heart,
So close they seemed now, now so far apart.
With bitterness and joy, so real, so strange,
Wherein now nothing more seemed left to gain,
Now nothing gained of all the wondrous change
Had left them yearning for, and still did range
From utter woe to utter bliss each heart,
So close they seemed now, now so far apart.
Meanwhile who noted them? Bikki talked loud
With flushed face, and the King sat glad and smiled
With lips and eyes and heart; Gudrun was bowed
Over the board as somewhat now beguiled
With thought of past days—and the joy waxed wild
Within the hall among the rest of folk
Until the pale dawn o'er the garden broke.
With flushed face, and the King sat glad and smiled
With lips and eyes and heart; Gudrun was bowed
Over the board as somewhat now beguiled
With thought of past days—and the joy waxed wild
Within the hall among the rest of folk
Until the pale dawn o'er the garden broke.
Then as a burnt-down torch out the feast flared,
And through the town and palace noisily
The guests unto their wonted dwellings fared;
Then in the gathering light o'er all did lie
Deep silence, but no rest of heart or eye
For those that love from all the world made lone,
Who lone of love lay now that hour was gone.
And through the town and palace noisily
The guests unto their wonted dwellings fared;
Then in the gathering light o'er all did lie
Deep silence, but no rest of heart or eye
For those that love from all the world made lone,
Who lone of love lay now that hour was gone.
In tilt and pageant and high feast went by
The next few days. Randver saw Swanhild oft
But never so but some one was anigh,
Whether he saw her glorious eyes aloft
Above the spears, or heard her speaking soft
Anigh him, or they passed so close that each
Might feel the other's breath their parched lips reach.
The next few days. Randver saw Swanhild oft
But never so but some one was anigh,
Whether he saw her glorious eyes aloft
Above the spears, or heard her speaking soft
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Might feel the other's breath their parched lips reach.
Howe'er they met still flickering shadows seemed
To part their hands and lips and hearts, and make
Their lives a dream without their own wills dreamed—
A dream that feverish pain should ne'er forsake,
Wherefrom perchance they never should awake,
With no more hope than hell, yet sweet indeed
As Heaven's ne'er parched, ne'er frozen, blessed mead.
To part their hands and lips and hearts, and make
Their lives a dream without their own wills dreamed—
A dream that feverish pain should ne'er forsake,
Wherefrom perchance they never should awake,
With no more hope than hell, yet sweet indeed
As Heaven's ne'er parched, ne'er frozen, blessed mead.
So shall it be, thought Randver, many a day
Till all days end for us: must change needs be?
Why must we strive to cast this pain away
And in the gulf of all uncertainty
Go struggling till again we come to see
All things as others see them, with no hope,
With all the dread ourselves have made to cope?
Till all days end for us: must change needs be?
Why must we strive to cast this pain away
And in the gulf of all uncertainty
Go struggling till again we come to see
All things as others see them, with no hope,
With all the dread ourselves have made to cope?
| The Collected Works of William Morris | |