of kings
seeking welcome!
Grimnir’s gift shall
gladly meet them!’
6
High sang the horns,
helms were gleaming,
shafts were shaken,
shields them answered.
Vikings’ standards,
Volsung’s banner
on strand were streaming;
stern the onslaught.
7
Old was Sigmund
as the oak gnarled;
his sword swung he
smoking redly.
Fate him fended
fearless striding
with dew of battle
dyed to shoulder.
8
A warrior strange,
one-eyed, awful,
strode and stayed him
standing silent,
huge and hoary
and hooded darkly.
The sword of Sigmund
sang before him.
9
His spear he raised:
sprang asunder
the sword of Grimnir,
singing splintered.
The king is fallen
cloven-breasted;
lords lie round him;
the land darkens.
10
Men were moaning,
the moon sinking.
Sigrlinn sought him,
sadly raised him:
‘Hope of healing
for thy hurts I bring,
my lord beloved,
last of Volsungs.’
11
‘From wanhope many
have been won to life,
yet healing I ask not.
Hope is needless.
Odin calls me
at the end of days.
Here lies not lost
the last Volsung!
12
Thy womb shall wax
with the World’s chosen,
serpent-slayer,
seed of Odin.
Till ages end
all shall name him
chief of chieftains,
changeless glory.
13
Of Grimnir’s gift
guard the fragments;
of the shards shall be shaped
a shining blade.
Too soon shall I see
Sigurd bear it
to glad Valholl
greeting Odin.’
14
Cold came morning
o’er the king lifeless
and woeful Sigrlinn
her watch keeping.
Ships came sailing
to the shore crowding,
rovers northern
to the red beaches
15
The bride of Sigmund
as a bondwoman
over sounding seas
sadly journeyed.
Wild blew the winds,
waves them lifted;
she viewed afar
the Volsung land.
16
