OLD ASMUND SPEAKETH OVER THE WAR-DUKES: THE DEAD ARELAID IN MOUND
Now while all looked on, he went to the place where lay the bodies of the War-dukes, and looked down on the face of Otter and said:
"O Otter, there thou liest! and thou that I knew of old, When my beard began to whiten, as the best of the keen and the bold, And thou wert as my youngest brother, and thou didst lead my sons When we fared forth over the mountains to meet the arrowy Huns, And I smiled to see thee teaching the lore that I learned thee erst.
O Otter, dost thou remember how the Goth-folk came by the worst, And with thee in mine arms I waded the wide shaft-harrowed flood That lapped the feet of the mountains with its water blent with blood;And how in the hollow places of the mountains hidden away We abode the kindreds' coming as the wet night bideth day?
Dost thou remember, Otter, how many a joy we had, How many a grief remembered has made our high-tide glad?
O fellow of the hall-glee! O fellow of the field!
Why then hast thou departed and left me under shield?
I the ancient, I the childless, while yet in the Laxing hall Are thy brother's sons abiding and their children on thee call.
"O kindreds of the people! the soul that dwelt herein, This goodly way-worn body, was keen for you to win Good days and long endurance. Who knoweth of his deed What things for you it hath fashioned from the flame of the fire of need?
But of this at least well wot we, that forth from your hearts it came And back to your hearts returneth for the seed of thriving and fame.
In the ground wherein ye lay it, the body of this man, No deed of his abideth, no glory that he wan, But evermore the Markmen shall bear his deeds o'er earth, With the joy of the deeds that are coming, the garland of his worth."He was silent a little as he stood looking down on Otter's face with grievous sorrow, for all that his words were stout. For indeed, as he had said, Otter had been his battle-fellow and his hall-fellow, though he was much younger than Asmund; and they had been standing foot to foot in that battle wherein old Asmund's sons were slain by his side.
After a while he turned slowly from looking at Otter to gaze upon Thiodolf, and his body trembled as he looked, and he opened his mouth to speak; but no word came from it; and he sat down upon the edge of the bier, and the tears began to gush out of his old eyes, and he wept aloud. Then they that saw him wondered; for all knew the stoutness of his heart, and how he had borne more burdens than that of eld, and had not cowered down under them. But at last he arose again, and stood firmly on his feet, and faced the folk-mote, and in a voice more like the voice of a man in his prime than of an old man, he sang:
"Wild the storm is abroad Of the edge of the sword!
Far on runneth the path Of the war-stride of wrath!
The Gods hearken and hear The long rumour of fear From the meadows beneath Running fierce o'er the heath, Till it beats round their dwelling-place builded aloof And at last all up-swelling breaks wild o'er their roof, And quencheth their laughter and crieth on all, As it rolleth round rafter and beam of the Hall, Like the speech of the thunder-cloud tangled on high, When the mountain-halls sunder as dread goeth by.
"So they throw the door wide Of the Hall where they bide, And to murmuring song Turns that voice of the wrong, And the Gods wait a-gaze For that Wearer of Ways:
For they know he hath gone A long journey alone.
Now his feet are they hearkening, and now is he come, With his battle-wounds darkening the door of his home, Unbyrnied, unshielded, and lonely he stands, And the sword that he wielded is gone from his hands -Hands outstretched and bearing no spoil of the fight, As speechless, unfearing, he stands in their sight.
"War-father gleams Where the white light streams Round kings of old All red with gold, And the Gods of the name With joy aflame.
All the ancient of men Grown glorious again:
Till the Slains-father crieth aloud at the last:
'Here is one that belieth no hope of the past!
No weapon, no treasure of earth doth he bear, No gift for the pleasure of Godhome to share;But life his hand bringeth, well cherished, most sweet;And hark! the Hall singeth the Folk-wolf to greet!'
"As the rain of May On earth's happiest day, So the fair flowers fall On the sun-bright Hall As the Gods rise up With the greeting-cup, And the welcoming crowd Falls to murmur aloud.
Then the God of Earth speaketh; sweet-worded he saith, 'Lo, the Sun ever seeketh Life fashioned of death;And to-day as he turneth the wide world about On Wolf-stead he yearneth; for there without doubt Dwells the death-fashioned story, the flower of all fame.
Come hither new Glory, come Crown of the Name!'"All men's hearts rose high as he sang, and when he had ended arose the clang of sword and shield and went ringing down the meadow, and the mighty shout of the Markmen's joy rent the heavens: for in sooth at that moment they saw Thiodolf, their champion, sitting among the Gods on his golden chair, sweet savours around him, and sweet sound of singing, and he himself bright-faced and merry as no man on earth had seen him, for as joyous a man as he was.
But when the sound of their exultation sank down, the Hall-Sun spake again:
"Now wendeth the sun westward, and weary grows the Earth Of all the long day's doings in sorrow and in mirth;And as the great sun waneth, so doth my candle wane, And its flickering flame desireth to rest and die again.
Therefore across the meadows wend we aback once more To the holy Roof of the Wolfings, the shrine of peace and war.
And these that once have loved us, these warriors images, Shall sit amidst our feasting, and see, as the Father sees The works that menfolk fashion and the rest of toiling hands, When his eyes look down from the mountains and the heavens above all lands, And up from the flowery meadows and the rolling deeps of the sea.
There then at the feast with our champions familiar shall we be As oft we are with the Godfolk, when in story-rhymes and lays We laugh as we tell of their laughter, and their deeds of other days.
