_
Now Brynhild and Sigurd left Hindfell, and Brynhild went to dwell in
her sister's house, but Sigurd abode not long in the land of Lymdale,
for his love urged him to great adventures wherein he might win glory
befitting the man who should wed so noble a woman as Brynhild.
So it befell one day in summer that he dight himself in the Helm of
Aweing and the Mail-coat all of gold, and girded the Wrath to his side
to ride forth again. And on his saddle he bound the red rings of
Fafnir's Treasure.
Then he kissed the ancient King Heimir, and hailed the folk of the
land who came to give him god-speed.
And he gathered the reins together, and set his face to the road,
And the glad steed neighed beneath him as they fared from the King's abode.
And out past the dewy closes; but the shouts went up to the sky,
Though some for very sorrow forbore the farewell cry,
Nor was any man but heavy that the godlike guest should go;
And they craved for that glad heart guileless, and that face without a foe.
* * * * *
But forth by dale and lealand doth the Son of Sigmund wend,
Till far away lies Lymdale and the folk of the forest's end;
And he rides a heath unpeopled and holds the westward way,
Till a long way off before him come up the mountains grey;
Grey, huge beyond all telling, and the host of the heaped clouds,
The black and the white together, on that rock-wall's coping crowds.
Pages:
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116