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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Selection from the Poems of William Morris,
+by William Morris, Edited by Francis Hueffer
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: A Selection from the Poems of William Morris
+
+
+Author: William Morris
+
+Editor: Francis Hueffer
+
+Release Date: February 9, 2011  [eBook #35227]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SELECTION FROM THE POEMS OF
+WILLIAM MORRIS***
+
+
+E-text prepared by David T. Jones, Ross Cooling, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Canada Team (http://www.pgdpcanada.net) from page
+images generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries
+(http://www.archive.org/details/americana)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 35227-h.htm or 35227-h.zip:
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/35227/35227-h/35227-h.htm)
+      or
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/35227/35227-h.zip)
+
+
+      Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
+      http://www.archive.org/details/selectionfrompoe00morrrich
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+[Illustration: (hand-written letter)
+
+Franz Hueffer who came into the Rossetti circle in the manner indicated
+in the following letter (of which the greater part is in the writing of
+the late Lucy Rossetti - daughter of Ford Madox Brown) was a
+broad-headed, plodding, able German who wrote and spoke English
+perfectly enough before his naturalization. He was somewhat heavy in his
+enthusiasms; and Gabriel Rossetti laughed at him a good deal. On one
+occasion D.G.R. let off the following "nursery rhyme":--
+
+  There's a fluffy-haired German called Huffer
+  A loud and pragmatical duffer:
+  To stand on a tower
+  And shout "Schopenhauer"
+  Is reckoned his mission by Huffer.
+
+There was no malice in these rhymes of Rossetti's; but even his dear
+friend Morris ("Topsy" as his intimates called him on account of his
+shock of black hair) was not exempt from personal sallies of the
+kind,--as this, when M. got alarmed about his increasing bulk:--
+
+  There was a young person called Topsy
+  Who fancied he suffered from dropsy;
+  He shook like a jelly,
+  Till the Doctor cried "Belly!"--
+  Which angered; but comforted Topsy.
+
+Poor dear Morris! he had cause enough for alarm. Diabetes was only one
+among the agencies by which his stalwart frame was disintegrated at the
+age of 62.
+
+H.B.F.
+
+7 November 1897.]
+
+
+
+[Illustration: (hand-written letter) May 27th/89
+
+5 ENDSLEIGH GARDENS.
+
+N.W.
+
+Dear Forman,
+
+Please excuse a very laconic presentment of the facts. Francis Hueffer,
+Musical Critic of the "Times", author of the libretto of "Columba" of a
+volume on the "Troubadours" of "Half a century of Music in England" etc
+etc, died last Jan 7 aged 43 leaving a widow & three children, & little
+indeed.]
+
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+
+  EACH VOLUME SOLD SEPARATELY.
+
+
+  COLLECTION
+  OF
+  BRITISH AUTHORS
+
+  TAUCHNITZ EDITION.
+
+  VOL. 2378.
+  POEMS BY WILLIAM MORRIS
+  IN ONE VOLUME.
+
+
+  LEIPZIG: BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ
+
+  PARIS: C. REINWALD, 15, RUE DES SAINTS PÈRES.
+
+  PARIS: THE GALIGNANI LIBRARY, 224, RUE DE RIVOLI, AND AT NICE, 15, QUAI
+    MASSENA.
+
+
+  _This Collection is published with copyright for Continental
+  circulation, but all purchasers are earnestly requested not to introduce
+  the volumes into England or into any British Colony._
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+
+
+COLLECTION OF BRITISH AUTHORS
+
+TAUCHNITZ EDITION.
+
+VOL. 2378.
+
+POEMS BY WILLIAM MORRIS.
+
+IN ONE VOLUME.
+
+
+
+A SELECTION FROM THE POEMS OF WILLIAM MORRIS.
+
+Edited with a Memoir by Francis Hueffer.
+
+Copyright Edition.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Leipzig
+Bernhard Tauchnitz
+1886.
+The Right of Translation is reserved.
+
+
+
+
+MEMOIR
+
+OF
+
+WILLIAM MORRIS.
+
+
+William Morris, poet, decorative designer and socialist, was born in
+1834 at Clay Street, Walthamstow, now almost a suburb of London, at that
+time a country village in Essex. He went to school at Marlborough
+College and thence to Exeter College, Oxford, where he took his degree
+in 1857. During his stay in the University the subsequent mode of his
+life was prepared and foreshadowed in two important directions. Like
+most poets Morris was not what is called very assiduous "at his book";
+the routine of college training was no more an attraction to him than
+the ordinary amusements and dissipations of undergraduate existence. But
+he was studious all the same, reading the classics in his own somewhat
+spasmodic way and exploring with even greater zeal the mysteries of
+mediæval lore. His fellow-worker in these studies and his most intimate
+friend was and is at the present day Mr. Burne Jones, the famous
+painter, at that time a student of divinity. Artistic and literary
+pursuits thus went hand in hand, and received additional zest when the
+two young men became acquainted with Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Holman Hunt
+and other painters of the Pre-Raphaelite school who came to Oxford to
+execute the frescoes still dimly visible on the ceiling of the Union
+Debating Hall. Of the aims and achievements of the Pre-Raphaelite
+Brotherhood, and of the revival of mediæval feeling in art and
+literature originally advocated by its members ample account has been
+given in the memoir of Rossetti prefixed to his poems in the Tauchnitz
+edition. Its influence on Morris's early work, both in matter and form,
+will strike every observant reader of the opening ballads of the present
+collection. Later on the poet worked out for himself a distinct and
+individual phase of the mediæval movement, as will be mentioned by and
+by. At one time little was wanting to make Morris follow his friend
+Burne Jones's example and leave the pen for the brush. There is indeed
+still extant from his hand an unfinished picture evincing a remarkable
+sense of colour. He also for a short time became a pupil of the late Mr.
+G. E. Street, the architect, to whose genius London owes its finest
+modern Gothic building--the Law Courts in the Strand. On second
+thoughts, however, Morris came to the conclusion that poetry was his
+true field of action. His first literary venture was a monthly
+periodical started under his auspices in 1856 and called _The Oxford and
+Cambridge Magazine_. It contained, amongst other contributions from
+Morris's pen, a prose tale of a highly romantic character, and was, as
+regards artistic tendencies, essentially a sequel of _The Germ_, the
+organ of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, begun and continued for three
+numbers only, six years before. Several of the contributors to the
+earlier venture, including Rossetti, also supported its offshoot.
+Neither, however, gained popular favour, and after a year's struggling
+existence _The Oxford and Cambridge Magazine_ also came to an untimely
+end. At present both are eagerly sought for by collectors and fetch high
+prices at antiquarian sales. So changeable is the fate of books.
+
+In 1859 Morris married, after having the year before brought out his
+first volume of verse entitled _The Defence of Guenevere and Other
+Poems_. The book fell dead from the press, and it was not till it was
+republished 25 years later that the world recognised in it some of the
+freshest and most individual efforts of its author, whose literary
+position was by that time established beyond cavil. That position the
+poet owed in the first instance to two works published in rapid
+succession, _The Life and Death of Jason_, and _The Earthly Paradise_,
+the latter a collection of tales in verse filling four stout volumes.
+His remaining original works are _Love is enough_, a "morality" in the
+mediæval sense of the word, and _The Story of Sigurd the Volsung_, his
+longest and, in the opinion of some, his most perfect epic. In addition
+to these should be mentioned the translations from the old Norse
+undertaken in conjunction with Mr. Magnusson the well-known Icelandic
+scholar, and comprising _The Story of Grettir the Strong_ (1869), _The
+Volsunga Saga, with certain songs from the Elder Edda_ (1870), and
+_Three Northern Love Stories_ (1875); and finally a metrical rendering
+of _The Æneids of Virgil_.
+
+For a critical discussion or a detailed analysis of Morris's work this
+is not the place. It must be sufficient to indicate briefly the ideas
+which underlie that work and give it its literary _cachet_. Two main
+currents, derivable perhaps from a common source but running in
+different directions can be easily discerned. The subjects of his tales
+are almost without exception derived either from Greek myth or from
+mediæval folklore. After all that has been said and written of the gulf
+that divides the classic from the romantic feeling--_"Barbaren und
+Hellenen_", as Heine puts it, such a conjunction might appear
+incongruous. But the connecting link has here been found in the poet's
+mind. He looks upon his classical subject-matter through a mediæval
+atmosphere, in other words he writes about Venus and Cupid and Psyche
+and Medea as a poet of Chaucer's age might have done, barring of course
+the differences of language, although in this respect also it may be
+noted that the archaisms of expression affected by the modern poet
+appear indifferently in the Greek and the mediæval tales. The phenomenon
+is by no means unique in literature. Let the reader compare Chapman's
+Homer with Pope's, or let him open Morris's _Jason_ where the bells of
+Colchis "melodiously begin to ring", and the meaning of the
+afore-mentioned "mediæval atmosphere" will at once be as palpable to him
+as it was to Keats when, reading Chapman's rude verse, after Pope's
+polished stanzas, he felt
+
+          like some watcher of the skies
+  When a new planet swims into his ken.
+
+It was the romantic chord of Keats's nature, that chord which vibrates
+in _La belle Dame sans Merci_, which was harmoniously struck and made
+the great master of form overlook the formal imperfection of the
+earlier poet. To the same element such stories as _Jason_, or _The Love
+of Alcestis_ and the _Bellerophon_ in _The Earthly Paradise_ owe their
+charm.
+
+Morris's position towards mediæval subjects did not at first essentially
+differ from that of other poets of similar tendency. In his first volume
+English and French knights and damsels figure prominently, and the
+beautiful and frail wife of King Arthur is the heroine of the chief poem
+and has given her name to the book. But in the interval which elapsed
+between that volume and the _Earthly Paradise_ a considerable change had
+come over the poet's dream. By the aid of Mr. Magnusson he had become
+acquainted with the treasure of northern folklore hidden in the
+Icelandic sagas, the two Eddas, the story of the Volsungs (of which a
+masterly translation is due to the two friends), the Laxdæla saga and
+other tales of more or less remote antiquity.
+
+In the _Earthly Paradise_ the double current of the poet's fancy above
+alluded to is most strikingly apparent. The very framework in which the
+various tales are set seems to have been designed with that view. Guided
+probably by a vague tradition of a pre-Columbian discovery of America by
+the Vikings, the prologue relates how during a terrible pestilence
+certain mariners leave their northern home in search of the land where
+old age and death are not and where life is rounded by unbroken
+pleasure. Sailing west they come to a fair country. They gaze on
+southern sunshine and virgin forest and fertile champaign, but death
+meets them at every step, and happiness is farthest from their grasp
+when the people worship them as gods and sacrifice at their shrine.
+Escaping from this golden thraldom they regain their ship, and after
+many dangers and privations are driven by the wind to an island
+inhabited by descendants of the ancient Greeks, who have preserved their
+old worship and their old freedom. Here the weary wanderers of the main
+are hospitably received, and here they resolve to dwell in peace,
+forgetful of their vain search for the earthly paradise. At the
+beginning and the middle of every month the elders of the people and
+their guests meet together to while away the time with song and friendly
+converse. The islanders relate the traditions of their Grecian home, the
+mariners relate the sagas of the North, and Laurence, a Swabian priest
+who had joined the Norsemen in their quest, contributes the legends of
+Tannhäuser and of the ring given to Venus by the Roman youth. Here then
+there is full scope for the quaint beauty of romantic classicism and for
+the weird glamour of northern myth. Without encroaching upon the field
+of criticism proper the writer may state that, in his opinion, amongst
+the classic tales none is more graceful and finished than "The Golden
+Apples", and amongst the northern none more grandly developed and more
+epical in the strict sense of the word than _The Lovers of Gudrun_ based
+upon the Icelandic Laxdæla saga. The latter, unfortunately, cannot find
+a place in this volume for reasons of space.
+
+Every student of old northern literature is aware that amongst its
+remains none are more interesting as literary monuments, none more
+characteristic of the people from which they sprang than the two Eddas
+and the Volsunga Saga. Next to the Siege of Troy and the Arthurian
+legends perhaps no story or agglomeration of stories has left so many
+and so important traces in international fiction as the tale of Sigurd
+or Siegfried and his race, the heroic god-born Volsungs. Considering
+indeed the political insignificance and remoteness in which that story
+took its earliest surviving form this enormous success--if the modern
+term may be applied--seems at first singularly out of proportion. But it
+must be remembered that Iceland was little more than the storehouse of
+these old traditions which were the common property of the
+Teuto-Scandinavian race long before the Norsemen set foot on the
+northern isle. Of the two modern versions of the tale which are most
+thoroughly inspired by the ancient myth one, that of Wagner in his
+tetralogy _Der Ring des Nibelungen_, is dramatic in form, the other,
+Morris's _The Story of Sigurd the Volsung_, bears all the
+characteristics of the epic. To this difference of artistic aim, the
+difference of shape which the tale takes in the hands of the two poets
+may be traced. In one point however they agree. Both Wagner and Morris
+go back to the old Icelandic sources in preference to the mediæval
+German version of the tale embodied in the _Nibelungenlied_. From this
+the German poet borrows little more than the localization of his drama
+on the banks of the river Rhine, the English poet scarcely anything but
+his metre--the _Langzeile_ or long-line with six hightoned, and any
+number of unaccentuated syllables.
+
+The ordinary modern reader taking up the Volsunga Saga or either of the
+Eddas without preparation would probably see in them little more than a
+confused accumulation of impossible adventures and deeds of prowess with
+an admixture of incest, fratricide and other horrors. But on looking
+closer one discovers a certain plan in this entanglement, a plan much
+obscured by the unbridled fancy of the old narrators, and hardly
+realised by themselves, but which, if properly sifted, amounts to what
+we should call a moral or idea. To "point this moral," to consistently
+develop this idea, is the task of the modern poet courageous enough to
+grapple with such a subject. Two ways are open to him. Either he may
+wholly abandon the sequence of the old tale, and group its _disjecta
+membra_ round a leading idea as a centre, or else he may adhere to the
+order and essence of the legend as originally told, only emphasising
+such points as are essential to the significance of the story, and
+omitting or throwing into comparative shade those incidents which by
+their nature betray themselves to be arbitrary additions of later date.
+Wagner has chosen the former way, Morris the latter. This fact, and the
+divergent requirements of the drama and the epic, sufficiently account
+for their difference of treatment. The leading idea in both cases
+remains the same; it is the fatal curse which attaches to the gold or,
+which is the same in a moral sense, to the desire for gold--_auri sacra
+fames_.
+
+At first sight the tale of Sigurd, Fafnir's bane, seems to have little
+connection with this idea. It is briefly this. Sigurd, the son of
+Sigmund the Volsung, is brought up at the court of King Elf, the second
+husband of his mother, after Sigmund has been slain in battle. With a
+sword, fashioned from the shards of his father's weapon, he slays
+Fafnir, a huge worm or dragon, and possesses himself of the treasure
+watched by the monster, including a ring and the "helm of aweing," the
+latter in the _Nibelungenlied_, converted into the "Tarnkappe", a magic
+cap which makes the bearer invisible and endows him with supernatural
+strength. Tasting of the blood of the dragon, he understands the
+language of birds, and an eagle tells him of a beautiful maiden lying
+asleep on a rock called Hindfell, surrounded by a wall of wavering fire.
+Through it Sigurd rides and awakes Brynhild the sword maiden, or
+Valkyrie, from her magic slumber. Love naturally follows. The pair live
+together on Hindfell for a season and Brynhild teaches the youth the
+runes of her wisdom, a conception of woman's refining and civilising
+mission frequently met with in old Germanic tales. When Sigurd leaves
+her to seek new adventures they plight the troth of eternal love, and
+
+  Then he set the ring on her finger, and once if ne'er again
+  They kissed and clung together, and their hearts were full and fain.
+
+From Brynhild's rock Sigurd journeys to a realm "south of the Rhine"
+where dwell the kingly brothers, Gunnar, Hogni, and Guttorm, the
+Niblungs, together with their sister Gudrun, "the fairest of maidens",
+and their mother Grimhild, "a wise wife" and a fierce-hearted woman, as
+the Volsunga Saga alternately describes her. It is through a
+love-philter brewed by her that Sigurd forgets the vows exchanged with
+Brynhild, and becomes enamoured of Gudrun, whom he soon after weds. So
+powerful is the charm that the very name of his former love has been
+wiped from Sigurd's memory, and he willingly undertakes the task to woo
+and win Brynhild for his brother Gunnar. For that purpose he, by means
+of his magic cap, assumes Gunnar's semblance, and after having once
+more crossed the wall of wavering flame compels Brynhild to become his
+bride. But, faithful to his promise, he places a drawn sword between
+himself and the maid "as they lie on one bed together." On parting from
+her he receives back from Brynhild his own ring given to her at Hindfell
+in the days of their bliss. Sigurd then returns to Gunnar and resumes
+his own form, and all return home, the King leading his unwilling bride
+in triumph.
+
+The subsequent events are the outgrowth of the tragic guilt thus
+incurred. Sigurd reveals the secret of Brynhild's wooing to his wife,
+and allows her to take possession of the fatal ring, which she during a
+quarrel shows to Gunnar's wife. Brynhild thus informed of the fraud
+practised on her, thinks of vengeance, and incites her husband and his
+brothers to kill Sigurd. The deed is done while Sigurd lies asleep in
+his chamber with Gudrun, or, according to the more poetic version of the
+German epic, while he bends over a brook in the forest to quench his
+thirst after a day's hunting. But as soon as her beloved foe is killed
+the old passion never quenched rises up again in Brynhild's heart. To be
+united with her lover in death she pierces her breast with a sword, and
+one pyre consumes both.
+
+With this climax Wagner very properly concludes his drama. But the epic
+poet likes to follow the course of events to their ultimate
+consequences, and Morris, in accordance with the Volsunga Saga, proceeds
+to relate how, after many years of mournful widowhood, Gudrun is married
+to Atli, a mighty king, the brother of Brynhild. Eager to become
+possessed of Sigurd's treasure he invites the Niblungs, its actual
+owners, to his country, and there the kingly brothers and all their
+followers are killed by base treachery and after the most heroic
+resistance. They refuse sternly to ransom their lives by a discovery of
+the hoard which previous to their departure they have hidden at the
+bottom of a lake, and which thus is irrecoverably lost to mankind.
+Gudrun has incited her husband to the deed and has looked on calmly
+while her kinsmen were slain one after the other. But when all are dead
+and the murder of Sigurd has been revenged, the feeling of blood
+relationship so powerful among Northern nations is reawakened in her.
+While Atli and his earls are asleep she sets fire to the kingly hall,
+and her wretched husband falls by her own hand. It is characteristic of
+the Icelandic epic that after all these fates and horrors Gudrun lives
+for a number of years and is yet again married to a third husband. But
+to this length even Morris refuses to accompany the tale. In accordance
+with the Volsunga Saga his Gudrun throws herself into the sea; but the
+waves do not carry her "to the burg of king Imakr, a mighty king and
+lord of many folk."
+
+All this is very grand and weird, the reader will say, but where is the
+moral, the ideal essence of which these events are but the earthly
+reflex? To this essence we gradually ascend by inquiring into the
+mythological sources of the tale, by asking who is Sigurd, whence does
+he come, on what mission is he sent and by whom? also what is the
+significance of the treasure watched by a dragon and coveted by all
+mankind? This treasure we then shall find and the curse attaching to it
+ever since it was robbed from Andvari, the water-elf, is the keynote of
+the whole story. The curse proves fatal to all its successive owners
+from Andvari himself and Fafnir, who, for its sake, kills his father,
+down to Sigurd and Brynhild and the Niblung brothers. Nay, Odin himself,
+the supreme God, becomes subject to the curse of the gold through having
+once coveted it, and we dimly discern that the ultimate doom of the
+Aesir, the Ragnarök, or dusk of the Gods, of which the Voluspa speaks,
+is intimately connected with the same baneful influence. It further
+becomes evident that Sigurd the Volsung, the descendant of Odin, is
+destined to wrest the treasure and the power derived from it from the
+Niblungs, the dark or cloudy people who threaten the bright godworld of
+Valhall with destruction. And this leads us back to a still earlier
+stage of the myth in which Sigurd himself becomes the symbol of the
+celestial luminary conquering night and misty darkness, an idea
+repeatedly hinted at by Morris and splendidly illustrated by Wagner,
+when Siegfried appears on the stage illumined by the first rays of the
+rising sun. In the work of the German poet all this is brought out with
+a distinctness of which only dramatic genius of the highest order is
+capable. With an astounding grasp of detail and with a continuity of
+thought rarely equalled, Wagner has remoulded the confused and complex
+argument of the old tale, omitting what seemed unnecessary, and placing
+in juxtaposition incidents organically connected but separated by the
+obtuseness of later sagamen.
+
+Morris, as has been said before, proceeds on a different principle. His
+first object is to tell a tale, and to tell it as nearly as possible in
+the spirit and according to the letter of the old Sagas. In this he has
+succeeded in a manner at once indicative of his high poetic gifts and of
+a deep sympathy with the spirit of the Northern Myth, which breathes in
+every line and in every turn of his phraseology. To compare the peculiar
+tinge of his language with the ordinary archaisms and euphonisms of
+literary poets would be mistaking a field flower for its counterpart in
+a milliner's shop window. It is true that he also hints at the larger
+philosophic and moral issues of the tale. But when he refers to the end
+of the gods brought about by their own guilt or to the redeeming mission
+of Sigurd, it is done in the mysterious, not to say half conscious
+manner of the saga itself, and the effect is such as from his own point
+of view he intended it and could not but intend it to be.
+
+Between the publication of _The Defence of Guenevere_ and that of Jason
+ten years elapsed. During most of this time the poet was employed in
+artistic pursuits. In 1861 he started in conjunction with a number of
+friends the business of decorator and artistic designer which still
+bears his name. Growing from very modest beginnings this enterprise was
+destined to work an entire change in the external aspect of English
+homes. It soon extended its activity to every branch of art-workmanship.
+D. G. Rossetti, Madox Brown, and Burne Jones drew cartoons for the
+stained glass windows to be seen in many of our churches and colleges.
+Morris himself designed wall-papers and the patterns of carpets. The
+latter are woven on hand-looms in his factory at Merton Abbey, which
+stands on the banks of the river Wandle surrounded by orchards, and
+looks as like a medieval workshop as the modern dresses of the workgirls
+will allow. Another member of the firm, Philip Webb, was the first
+modern architect to build houses of red brick in the style vaguely and
+not quite correctly described as "Queen Anne." At present these houses
+count by thousands in London and a whole village of them has been built
+at Turnham Green. The members of the firm did not confine their
+attention to any particular style or age or country. Wherever beautiful
+things could be found they collected them and made them popular. Old
+china English, and foreign, Japanese fans and screens, Venetian glass
+and German pottery were equally welcome to them and through them to the
+public generally. It may be said that the "aesthetic" fashion as it came
+to be called will like other fashions die out, and that people in the
+course of time will grow tired of "living up to" their furniture and
+dresses. At the same time the idea thus insisted upon that beauty is an
+essential and necessary ingredient of practical modern English life is
+not likely to be without beneficial and permanent effect.
+
+It was as artistic worker and employer of skilled labour that Morris
+imbibed that profound disgust with our social condition which induced
+him to adopt the principles of extreme socialism. For a long time his
+views had tended in that direction, and at the end of 1884 he joined the
+Socialist League, a body professing the doctrines of international
+revolutionary socialism. He is the editor of its official organ, the
+_Commonweal_, which contains many contributions from his pen both in
+prose and verse. That the poet has not been entirely sunk in the
+politician, that longing for beauty is at least the partial cause of
+this desire for change at any price, is however proved by such a
+sentiment as, "Beauty, which is what is meant by _art_, using the word
+in its widest sense, is, I contend, no mere accident of human life which
+people can take or have as they choose, but a positive necessity of
+life, if we are to live as nature meant us to, that is unless we are
+content to be less than men," or by such a vision of a future earthly
+paradise as is expressed in the following lines:
+
+  Then a man shall work and bethink him, and rejoice in the deeds of his
+    hand,
+  Nor yet come home in the even, too faint and weary to stand,
+
+    .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .
+
+  For that which the worker winneth shall then be his indeed,
+  Nor shall half be reaped for nothing by him that sowed no seed.
+
+    .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .
+
+  Then all _mine_ and _thine_ shall be _ours_, and no more shall any man
+    crave
+  For riches that serve for nothing but to fetter a friend for a slave.
+
+One may admire the pathetic beauty of such lines, without sharing the
+poet's hope, that their import will ever be realised, in a world peopled
+by men and not by angels. History teaches and personal experience
+confirms that art enjoyment and art creation of the highest type must be
+confined to the few, and it is to be feared that social democracy,
+whatever it may do for the physical welfare of the many, will care
+little about beauty, either in nature or in art. The _Demos_ will never
+admire Rossetti's pictures or Keats's poetry, and the first thing the
+much-vaunted peasant proprietors, or peasant communes would do would be
+to cut down our ancient trees, level every hedgerow and turn parks and
+commons into potato plots or it may be turnip fields. One may feel
+certain of all this and yet admire the author of _The Earthly
+Paradise_, "the idle singer of an empty day" when he preaches universal
+brotherhood in the crossways of Hammersmith, and wrestles with
+policemen, or wrangles with obtuse magistrates about the freedom of
+speech. Conviction thus upheld at the cost of worldly advantage and
+personal convenience and taste must command respect even from those who
+cannot share it.
+
+  Francis Hueffer.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+                                                       Page
+
+  From "THE DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE AND OTHER POEMS."
+
+  The Defence of Guenevere                               23
+  A Good Knight in Prison                                36
+  Shameful Death                                         41
+  The Eve of Crecy                                       43
+  The Haystack in the Floods                             45
+  Riding together                                        51
+  Summer Dawn                                            54
+
+
+  From "THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON." (Book XIV.)
+
+  The Sirens.--The Garden of the Hesperides.--The
+  Heroes do Sacrifice at Malea                           55
+
+
+  From "THE EARTHLY PARADISE."
+
+  An Apology                                             82
+  From Prologue--The Wanderers                           84
+  Ogier the Dane                                         95
+  The golden Apples                                     147
+  L'Envoi                                               168
+
+
+  From "LOVE IS ENOUGH."
+
+  Interludes                                            173
+
+
+  From "THE STORY OF SIGURD THE VOLSUNG." (Book II.)
+
+  Regin                                                 178
+
+
+
+
+  FROM
+
+  "THE DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE AND OTHER POEMS."
+
+  THE DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE.
+
+
+  But, knowing now that they would have her speak,
+  She threw her wet hair backward from her brow,
+  Her hand close to her mouth touching her cheek,
+
+  As though she had had there a shameful blow,
+  And feeling it shameful to feel ought but shame,
+  All through her heart, yet felt her cheek burned so,
+
+  She must a little touch it; like one lame
+  She walked away from Gauwaine, with her head
+  Still lifted up; and on her cheek of flame
+
+  The tears dried quick; she stopped at last and said:
+ "O knights and lords, it seems but little skill
+  To talk of well-known things past now and dead.
+
+ "God wot I ought to say, I have done ill,
+  And pray you all forgiveness heartily!
+  Because you must be right such great lords--still
+
+ "Listen, suppose your time were come to die,
+  And you were quite alone and very weak;
+  Yea, laid a dying while very mightily
+
+ "The wind was ruffling up the narrow streak
+  Of river through your broad lands running well:
+  Suppose a hush should come, then some one speak:
+
+ "'One of these cloths is heaven, and one is hell,
+  Now choose one cloth for ever, which they be,
+  I will not tell you, you must somehow tell
+
+  "'Of your own strength and mightiness; here, see!'
+  Yea, yea, my lord, and you to ope your eyes,
+  At foot of your familiar bed to see
+
+ "A great God's angel standing, with such dyes,
+  Not known on earth, on his great wings, and hands,
+  Held out two ways, light from the inner skies
+
+  "Showing him well, and making his commands
+  Seem to be God's commands, moreover, too,
+  Holding within his hands the cloths on wands;
+
+ "And one of these strange choosing cloths was blue,
+  Wavy and long, and one cut short and red;
+  No man could tell the better of the two.
+
+ "'After a shivering half-hour you said,
+  'God help! heaven's colour, the blue;' and he said, 'hell.'
+  Perhaps you then would roll upon your bed,
+
+ "And cry to all good men that loved you well,
+  'Ah Christ! if only I had known, known, known;'
+  Launcelot went away, then I could tell,
+
+ "Like wisest man how all things would be, moan,
+  And roll and hurt myself, and long to die,
+  And yet fear much to die for what was sown.
+
+ "Nevertheless you, O Sir Gauwaine, lie,
+  Whatever may have happened through these years,
+  God knows I speak truth, saying that you lie."
+
+  Her voice was low at first, being full of tears,
+  But as it cleared, it grew full loud and shrill,
+  Growing a windy shriek in all men's ears,
+
+  A ringing in their startled brains, until
+  She said that Gauwaine lied, then her voice sunk,
+  And her great eyes began again to fill,
+
+  Though still she stood right up, and never shrunk,
+  But spoke on bravely, glorious lady fair!
+  Whatever tears her full lips may have drunk,
+
+  She stood, and seemed to think, and wrung her hair,
+  Spoke out at last with no more trace of shame,
+  With passionate twisting of her body there:
+
+ "It chanced upon a day Launcelot came
+  To dwell at Arthur's Court; at Christmas-time
+  This happened; when the heralds sung his name,
+
+ "'Son of King Ban of Benwick,' seemed to chime
+  Along with all the bells that rang that day,
+  O'er the white roofs, with little change of rhyme.
+
+ "Christmas and whitened winter passed away,
+  And over me the April sunshine came,
+  Made very awful with black hail-clouds, yea
+
+ "And in the Summer I grew white with flame,
+  And bowed my head down--Autumn, and the sick
+  Sure knowledge things would never be the same,
+
+ "However often Spring might be most thick
+  Of blossoms and buds, smote on me, and I grew
+  Careless of most things, let the clock tick, tick,
+
+ "To my unhappy pulse, that beat right through
+  My eager body; while I laughed out loud,
+  And let my lips curl up at false or true,
+
+ "Seemed cold and shallow without any cloud.
+  Behold my judges, then the cloths were brought:
+  While I was dizzied thus, old thoughts would crowd,
+
+ "Belonging to the time ere I was bought
+  By Arthur's great name and his little love,
+  Must I give up for ever then, I thought,
+
+ "That which I deemed would ever round me move
+  Glorifying all things; for a little word,
+  Scarce ever meant at all, must I now prove
+
+ "Stone-cold for ever? Pray you, does the Lord
+  Will that all folks should be quite happy and good?
+  I love God now a little, if this cord
+
+ "Were broken, once for all what striving could
+  Make me love anything in earth or heaven.
+  So day by day it grew, as if one should
+
+ "Slip slowly down some path worn smooth and even,
+  Down to a cool sea on a summer day;
+  Yet still in slipping there was some small leaven
+
+ "Of stretched hands catching small stones by the way,
+  Until one surely reached the sea at last,
+  And felt strange new joy as the worn head lay
+
+ "Back, with the hair like sea-weed; yea all past
+  Sweat of the forehead, dryness of the lips,
+  Washed utterly out by the dear waves o'ercast,
+
+ "In the lone sea, far off from any ships!
+  Do I not know now of a day in Spring?
+  No minute of that wild day ever slips
+
+ "From out my memory; I hear thrushes sing,
+  And wheresoever I may be, straightway
+  Thoughts of it all come up with most fresh sting:
+
+ "I was half mad with beauty on that day,
+  And went without my ladies all alone,
+  In a quiet garden walled round every way;
+
+ "I was right joyful of that wall of stone,
+  That shut the flowers and trees up with the sky,
+  And trebled all the beauty: to the bone,
+
+ "Yea right through to my heart, grown very shy
+  With weary thoughts, it pierced, and made me glad;
+  Exceedingly glad, and I knew verily,
+
+ "A little thing just then had made me mad;
+  I dared not think, as I was wont to do,
+  Sometimes, upon my beauty; If I had
+
+ "Held out my long hand up against the blue,
+  And, looking on the tenderly darken'd fingers,
+  Thought that by rights one ought to see quite through,
+
+ "There, see you, where the soft still light yet lingers,
+  Round by the edges; what should I have done,
+  If this had joined with yellow spotted singers,
+
+ "And startling green drawn upward by the sun?
+  But shouting, loosed out, see now! all my hair,
+  And trancedly stood watching the west wind run
+
+ "With faintest half-heard breathing sound--why there
+  I lose my head e'en now in doing this;
+  But shortly listen--In that garden fair
+
+ "Came Launcelot walking; this is true, the kiss
+  Wherewith we kissed in meeting that spring day,
+  I scarce dare talk of the remember'd bliss,
+
+ "When both our mouths went wandering in one way,
+  And aching sorely, met among the leaves;
+  Our hands being left behind strained far away.
+
+ "Never within a yard of my bright sleeves
+  Had Launcelot come before--and now, so nigh!
+  After that day why is it Guenevere grieves?
+
+ "Nevertheless you, O Sir Gauwaine, lie,
+  Whatever happened on through all those years,
+  God knows I speak truth, saying that you lie.
+
+ "Being such a lady could I weep these tears
+  If this were true? A great queen such as I
+  Having sinn'd this way, straight her conscience sears;
+
+ "And afterwards she liveth hatefully,
+  Slaying and poisoning, certes never weeps,--
+  Gauwaine be friends now, speak me lovingly.
+
+ "Do I not see how God's dear pity creeps
+  All through your frame, and trembles in your mouth?
+  Remember in what grave your mother sleeps,
+
+ "Buried in some place far down in the south,
+  Men are forgetting as I speak to you;
+  By her head sever'd in that awful drouth
+
+ "Of pity that drew Agravaine's fell blow,
+  I pray your pity! let me not scream out
+  For ever after, when the shrill winds blow
+
+ "Through half your castle-locks! let me not shout
+  For ever after in the winter night
+  When you ride out alone! in battle-rout
+
+ "Let not my rusting tears make your sword light!
+  Ah! God of mercy how he turns away!
+  So, ever must I dress me to the fight,
+
+ "So--let God's justice work! Gauwaine, I say,
+  See me hew down your proofs: yea all men know
+  Even as you said how Mellyagraunce one day,
+
+ "One bitter day in _la Fausse Garde_, for so
+  All good knights held it after, saw--
+  Yea, sirs, by cursed unknightly outrage; though
+
+ "You, Gauwaine, held his word without a flaw,
+  This Mellyagraunce saw blood upon my bed--
+  Whose blood then pray you? is there any law
+
+ "To make a queen say why some spots of red
+  Lie on her coverlet? or will you say,
+  'Your hands are white, lady, as when you wed,
+
+ "'Where did you bleed?' and must I stammer out--'Nay',
+  I blush indeed, fair lord, only to rend
+  My sleeve up to my shoulder, where there lay
+
+ "'A knife-point last night:' so must I defend
+  The honour of the lady Guenevere?
+  Not so, fair lords, even if the world should end
+
+ "This very day, and you were judges here
+  Instead of God. Did you see Mellyagraunce
+  When Launcelot stood by him? what white fear
+
+ "Curdled his blood, and how his teeth did dance,
+  His side sink in? as my knight cried and said,
+  'Slayer of unarm'd men, here is a chance!
+
+ "'Setter of traps, I pray you guard your head,
+  By God I am so glad to fight with you,
+  Stripper of ladies, that my hand feels lead
+
+ "'For driving weight; hurrah now! draw and do,
+  For all my wounds are moving in my breast,
+  And I am getting mad with waiting so.'
+
+ "He struck his hands together o'er the beast,
+  Who fell down flat, and grovell'd at his feet,
+  And groan'd at being slain so young--'at least.'
+
+ "My knight said, 'Rise you, sir, who are so fleet
+  At catching ladies, half-arm'd will I fight,
+  My left side all uncover'd!' then I weet,
+
+ "Up sprang Sir Mellyagraunce with great delight
+  Upon his knave's face; not until just then
+  Did I quite hate him, as I saw my knight
+
+ "Along the lists look to my stake and pen
+  With such a joyous smile, it made me sigh
+  From agony beneath my waist-chain, when
+
+ "The fight began, and to me they drew nigh;
+  Ever Sir Launcelot kept him on the right,
+  And traversed warily, and ever high
+
+ "And fast leapt caitiff's sword, until my knight
+  Sudden threw up his sword to his left hand,
+  Caught it, and swung it; that was all the fight.
+
+ "Except a spout of blood on the hot land;
+  For it was hottest summer; and I know
+  I wonder'd how the fire, while I should stand,
+
+ "And burn, against the heat, would quiver so,
+  Yards above my head; thus these matters went:
+  Which things were only warnings of the woe
+
+ "That fell on me. Yet Mellyagraunce was shent,
+  For Mellyagraunce had fought against the Lord;
+  Therefore, my lords, take heed lest you be blent
+
+ "With all this wickedness; say no rash word
+  Against me, being so beautiful; my eyes,
+  Wept all away the grey, may bring some sword
+
+ "To drown you in your blood; see my breast rise,
+  Like waves of purple sea, as here I stand;
+  And how my arms are moved in wonderful wise,
+
+ "Yea also at my full heart's strong command,
+  See through my long throat how the words go up
+  In ripples to my mouth; how in my hand
+
+ "The shadow lies like wine within a cup
+  Of marvellously colour'd gold; yea now
+  This little wind is rising, look you up,
+
+ "And wonder how the light is falling so
+  Within my moving tresses: will you dare
+  When you have looked a little on my brow,
+
+ "To say this thing is vile? or will you care
+  For any plausible lies of cunning woof,
+  When you can see my face with no lie there
+
+ "For ever? am I not a gracious proof--
+  'But in your chamber Launcelot was found'--
+  Is there a good knight then would stand aloof,
+
+ "When a queen says with gentle queenly sound:
+  'O true as steel come now and talk with me,
+  I love to see your step upon the ground
+
+ "'Unwavering, also well I love to see
+  That gracious smile light up your face, and hear
+  Your wonderful words, that all mean verily
+
+ "'The thing they seem to mean: good friend, so dear
+  To me in everything, come here to-night,
+  Or else the hours will pass most dull and drear;
+
+ "'If you come not, I fear this time I might
+  Get thinking over much of times gone by,
+  When I was young, and green hope was in sight:
+
+ "'For no man cares now to know why I sigh;
+  And no man comes to sing me pleasant songs,
+  Nor any brings me the sweet flowers that lie
+
+ "'So thick in the gardens; therefore one so longs
+  To see you, Launcelot; that we may be
+  Like children once again, free from all wrongs
+
+ "'Just for one night.' Did he not come to me?
+  What thing could keep true Launcelot away
+  If I said 'Come?' there was one less than three
+
+ "In my quiet room that night, and we were gay;
+  Till sudden I rose up, weak, pale, and sick,
+  Because a bawling broke our dream up, yea
+
+ "I looked at Launcelot's face and could not speak,
+  For he looked helpless too, for a little while;
+  Then I remember how I tried to shriek,
+
+ "And could not, but fell down; from tile to tile
+  The stones they threw up rattled o'er my head
+  And made me dizzier; till within a while
+
+ "My maids were all about me, and my head
+  On Launcelot's breast was being soothed away
+  From its white chattering, until Launcelot said--
+
+ "By God! I will not tell you more to-day,
+  Judge any way you will--what matters it?
+  You know quite well the story of that fray,
+
+ "How Launcelot still'd their bawling, the mad fit
+  That caught up Gauwaine--all, all, verily,
+  But just that which would save me; these things flit.
+
+ "Nevertheless you, O Sir Gauwaine, lie,
+  Whatever may have happen'd these long years,
+  God knows I speak truth, saying that you lie!
+
+ "All I have said is truth, by Christ's dear tears."
+  She would not speak another word, but stood
+  Turn'd sideways; listening, like a man who hears
+
+  His brother's trumpet sounding through the wood
+  Of his foe's lances. She lean'd eagerly,
+  And gave a slight spring sometimes, as she could
+
+  At last hear something really; joyfully
+  Her cheek grew crimson, as the headlong speed
+  Of the roan charger drew all men to see,
+  The knight who came was Launcelot at good need.
+
+
+
+
+  A GOOD KNIGHT IN PRISON.
+
+
+  SIR GUY, _being in the court of a Pagan castle_.
+
+
+  This castle where I dwell, it stands
+  A long way off from Christian lands,
+  A long way off my lady's hands,
+  A long way off the aspen trees,
+  And murmur of the lime-tree bees.
+
+  But down the Valley of the Rose
+  My lady often hawking goes,
+  Heavy of cheer; oft turns behind,
+  Leaning towards the western wind,
+  Because it bringeth to her mind
+  Sad whisperings of happy times,
+  The face of him who sings these rhymes.
+
+    King Guilbert rides beside her there,
+  Bends low and calls her very fair,
+  And strives, by pulling down his hair,
+  To hide from my dear lady's ken
+  The grisly gash I gave him, when
+  I cut him down at Camelot;
+  However he strives, he hides it not,
+  That tourney will not be forgot,
+  Besides, it is King Guilbert's lot,
+  Whatever he says she answers not.
+  Now tell me, you that are in love,
+  From the king's son to the wood-dove,
+  Which is the better, he or I?
+
+  For this king means that I should die
+  In this lone Pagan castle, where
+  The flowers droop in the bad air
+  On the September evening.
+
+    Look, now I take mine ease and sing,
+  Counting as but a little thing
+  The foolish spite of a bad king.
+
+    For these vile things that hem me in,
+  These Pagan beasts who live in sin,
+  The sickly flowers pale and wan,
+  The grim blue-bearded castellan,
+  The stanchions half worn-out with rust,
+  Whereto their banner vile they trust--
+  Why, all these things I hold them just
+  Like dragons in a missal book,
+  Wherein, whenever we may look,
+  We see no horror, yea, delight
+  We have, the colours are so bright;
+  Likewise we note the specks of white,
+  And the great plates of burnish'd gold.
+
+    Just so this Pagan castle old,
+  And everything I can see there,
+  Sick-pining in the marshland air,
+  I note; I will go over now,
+  Like one who paints with knitted brow,
+  The flowers and all things one by one,
+  From the snail on the wall to the setting sun.
+
+    Four great walls, and a little one
+  That leads down to the barbican,
+  Which walls with many spears they man,
+  When news comes to the castellan
+  Of Launcelot being in the land.
+
+    And as I sit here, close at hand
+  Four spikes of sad sick sunflowers stand,
+  The castellan with a long wand
+  Cuts down their leaves as he goes by,
+  Ponderingly, with screw'd-up eye,
+  And fingers twisted in his beard--
+  Nay, was it a knight's shout I heard?
+  I have a hope makes me afeard:
+  It cannot be, but if some dream
+  Just for a minute made me deem
+  I saw among the flowers there
+  My lady's face with long red hair,
+  Pale, ivory-colour'd dear face come,
+  As I was wont to see her some
+  Fading September afternoon,
+  And kiss me, saying nothing, soon
+  To leave me by myself again;
+    Could I get this by longing: vain!
+
+    The castellan is gone: I see
+  On one broad yellow flower a bee
+  Drunk with much honey--
+                              Christ! again,
+  Some distant knight's voice brings me pain,
+  I thought I had forgot to feel,
+  I never heard the blissful steel
+  These ten years past; year after year,
+  Through all my hopeless sojourn here,
+  No Christian pennon has been near;
+  Laus Deo! the dragging wind draws on
+  Over the marches, battle won,
+  Knights' shouts, and axes hammering,
+  Yea, quicker now the dint and ring
+  Of flying hoofs; ah, castellan,
+  When they come back count man for man,
+  Say whom you miss.
+
+    The PAGANS, _from the battlements_.
+
+                      Mahmoud to aid!
+  Why flee ye so like men dismay'd?
+
+          The PAGANS, _from without_.
+
+  Nay, haste! for here is Launcelot,
+  Who follows quick upon us, hot
+  And shouting with his men-at-arms.
+
+               SIR GUY.
+
+  Also the Pagans raise alarms,
+  And ring the bells for fear; at last
+  My prison walls will be well past.
+
+      SIR LAUNCELOT, _from outside_.
+
+  Ho! in the name of the Trinity,
+  Let down the drawbridge quick to me,
+  And open doors, that I may see
+  Guy the good knight.
+
+      The PAGANS, _from the battlements_.
+
+        Nay, Launcelot,
+  With mere big words ye win us not.
+
+        SIR LAUNCELOT.
+
+  Bid Miles bring up la perriere,
+  And archers clear the vile walls there,
+  Bring back the notches to the ear,
+  Shoot well together! God to aid!
+  These miscreants shall be well paid.
+
+  Hurrah! all goes together; Miles
+  Is good to win my lady's smiles
+  For his good shooting--Launcelot!
+  On knights a-pace! this game is hot!
+
+      SIR GUY _sayeth afterwards_.
+
+  I said, I go to meet her now,
+  And saying so, I felt a blow
+  From some clench'd hand across my brow,
+  And fell down on the sunflowers
+  Just as a hammering smote my ears,
+  After which this I felt in sooth;
+  My bare hands throttling without ruth
+  The hairy-throated castellan;
+  Then a grim fight with those that ran
+  To slay me, while I shouted, "God
+  For the Lady Mary!" deep I trod
+  That evening in my own red blood;
+  Nevertheless so stiff I stood,
+  That when the knights burst the old wood
+  Of the castle-doors, I was not dead.
+
+    I kiss the Lady Mary's head,
+  Her lips, and her hair golden red,
+  Because to-day we have been wed.
+
+
+
+
+  SHAMEFUL DEATH.
+
+
+  There were four of us about that bed;
+    The mass-priest knelt at the side,
+  I and his mother stood at the head,
+    Over his feet lay the bride;
+  We were quite sure that he was dead,
+    Though his eyes were open wide.
+
+  He did not die in the night,
+    He did not die in the day,
+  But in the morning twilight
+    His spirit pass'd away,
+  When neither sun nor moon was bright,
+    And the trees were merely grey.
+
+  He was not slain with the sword,
+    Knight's axe, or the knightly spear,
+  Yet spoke he never a word
+    After he came in here;
+  I cut away the cord
+    From the neck of my brother dear.
+
+  He did not strike one blow,
+    For the recreants came behind,
+  In a place where the hornbeams grow,
+    A path right hard to find,
+  For the hornbeam boughs swing so,
+    That the twilight makes it blind.
+
+  They lighted a great torch then,
+    When his arms were pinion'd fast,
+  Sir John the knight of the Fen,
+    Sir Guy of the Dolorous Blast,
+  With knights threescore and ten,
+    Hung brave Lord Hugh at last.
+
+  I am threescore and ten,
+    And my hair is all turn'd grey,
+  But I met Sir John of the Fen
+    Long ago on a summer day,
+  And am glad to think of the moment when
+    I took his life away.
+
+  I am threescore and ten,
+    And my strength is mostly pass'd,
+  But long ago I and my men,
+    When the sky was overcast,
+  And the smoke roll'd over the reeds of the fen,
+    Slew Guy of the Dolorous Blast.
+
+  And now, knights all of you,
+    I pray you pray for Sir Hugh,
+  A good knight and a true,
+    And for Alice, his wife, pray too.
+
+
+
+
+  THE EVE OF CRECY.
+
+
+  Gold on her head, and gold on her feet,
+  And gold where the hems of her kirtle meet,
+  And a golden girdle round my sweet;--
+    _Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite._
+
+  Margaret's maids are fair to see,
+  Freshly dress'd and pleasantly;
+  Margaret's hair falls down to her knee;--
+    _Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite._
+
+  If I were rich I would kiss her feet,
+  I would kiss the place where the gold hems meet,
+  And the golden girdle round my sweet--
+    _Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite._
+
+  Ah me! I have never touch'd her hand;
+  When the arriere-ban goes through the land,
+  Six basnets under my pennon stand;--
+    _Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite._
+
+  And many an one grins under his hood:
+  "Sir Lambert de Bois, with all his men good,
+  Has neither food nor firewood;"--
+    _Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite._
+
+  If I were rich I would kiss her feet,
+  And the golden girdle of my sweet,
+  And thereabouts where the gold hems meet;--
+    _Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite._
+
+  Yet even now it is good to think,
+  While my few poor varlets grumble and drink
+  In my desolate hall where the fires sink;--
+    _Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite._
+
+  Of Margaret sitting glorious there,
+  In glory of gold and glory of hair,
+  And glory of glorious face most fair;--
+    _Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite._
+
+  Likewise to-night I make good cheer,
+  Because this battle draweth near:
+  For what have I to lose or fear?--
+    _Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite._
+
+  For, look you, my horse is good to prance
+  A right fair measure in this war-dance,
+  Before the eyes of Philip of France;--
+    _Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite._
+
+  And sometime it may hap, perdie,
+  While my new towers stand up three and three,
+  And my hall gets painted fair to see--
+    _Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite._--
+
+  That folks may say: "Times change, by the rood,
+  For Lambert, banneret of the wood,
+  Has heaps of food and firewood;--
+    _Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite;_--
+
+  "And wonderful eyes, too, under the hood
+  Of a damsel of right noble blood:"
+  St. Ives, for Lambert of the wood!--
+    _Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite._
+
+
+
+
+  THE HAYSTACK IN THE FLOODS.
+
+
+  Had she come all the way for this,
+  To part at last without a kiss?
+  Yea, had she borne the dirt and rain
+  That her own eyes might see him slain
+  Beside the haystack in the floods?
+
+  Along the dripping leafless woods,
+  The stirrup touching either shoe,
+  She rode astride as troopers do;
+  With kirtle kilted to her knee,
+  To which the mud splash'd wretchedly;
+  And the wet dripp'd from every tree
+  Upon her head and heavy hair,
+  And on her eyelids broad and fair;
+  The tears and rain ran down her face.
+
+  By fits and starts they rode apace,
+  And very often was his place
+  Far off from her; he had to ride
+  Ahead, to see what might betide
+  When the road cross'd; and sometimes, when
+  There rose a murmuring from his men,
+  Had to turn back with promises;
+  Ah me! she had but little ease;
+  And often for pure doubt and dread
+  She sobb'd, made giddy in the head
+
+  By the swift riding; while, for cold,
+  Her slender fingers scarce could hold
+  The wet reins; yea, and scarcely, too,
+  She felt the foot within her shoe
+  Against the stirrup: all for this,
+  To part at last without a kiss
+  Beside the haystack in the floods.
+
+  For when they near'd that old soak'd hay,
+  They saw across the only way
+  That Judas, Godmar, and the three
+  Red running lions dismally
+  Grinn'd from his pennon, under which
+  In one straight line along the ditch,
+  They counted thirty heads.
+
+                            So then,
+  While Robert turn'd round to his men,
+  She saw at once the wretched end,
+  And, stooping down, tried hard to rend
+  Her coif the wrong way from her head,
+  And hid her eyes; while Robert said:
+  "Nay, love, 'tis scarcely two to one,
+  At Poictiers where we made them run
+  So fast--why, sweet my love, good cheer,
+  The Gascon frontier is so near,
+  Nought after this."
+
+                  But, "O," she said,
+  "My God! my God! I have to tread
+  The long way back without you; then
+  The court at Paris; those six men;
+  The gratings of the Chatelet;
+  The swift Seine on some rainy day
+  Like this, and people standing by,
+  And laughing, while my weak hands try
+  To recollect how strong men swim.
+  All this, or else a life with him,
+  For which I should be damned at last,
+  Would God that this next hour were past!"
+
+  He answer'd not, but cried his cry,
+  "St. George for Marny!" cheerily;
+  And laid his hand upon her rein.
+  Alas! no man of all his train
+  Gave back that cheery cry again;
+  And, while for rage his thumb beat fast
+  Upon his sword-hilt, some one cast
+  About his neck a kerchief long,
+  And bound him.
+
+                Then they went along
+  To Godmar; who said: "Now, Jehane,
+  Your lover's life is on the wane
+  So fast, that, if this very hour
+  You yield not as my paramour,
+  He will not see the rain leave off--
+  Nay, keep your tongue from gibe and scoff,
+  Sir Robert, or I slay you now."
+
+  She laid her hand upon her brow,
+  Then gazed upon the palm, as though
+  She thought her forehead bled, and--"No,"
+  She said, and turn'd her head away,
+  As there were nothing else to say,
+  And everything were settled: red
+  Grew Godmar's face from chin to head:
+  "Jehane, on yonder hill there stands
+  My castle, guarding well my lands:
+  What hinders me from taking you,
+  And doing that I list to do
+  To your fair wilful body, while
+  Your knight lies dead?"
+
+                            A wicked smile
+  Wrinkled her face, her lips grew thin,
+  A long way out she thrust her chin:
+  "You know that I should strangle you
+  While you were sleeping; or bite through
+  Your throat, by God's help--ah!" she said,
+  "Lord Jesus, pity your poor maid!
+  For in such wise they hem me in,
+  I cannot choose but sin and sin,
+  Whatever happens: yet I think
+  They could not make me eat or drink,
+  And so should I just reach my rest."
+
+  "Nay, if you do not my behest,
+  O Jehane! though I love you well,"
+  Said Godmar, "would I fail to tell
+  All that I know." "Foul lies," she said.
+  "Eh? lies, my Jehane? by God's head,
+  At Paris folks would deem them true!
+  Do you know, Jehane, they cry for you,
+  'Jehane the brown! Jehane the brown!
+  Give us Jehane to burn or drown!'--
+  Eh--gag me, Robert!--sweet my friend,
+  This were indeed a piteous end
+  For those long fingers, and long feet,
+  And long neck, and smooth shoulders sweet;
+  An end that few men would forget
+  That saw it--So, an hour yet:
+  Consider, Jehane, which to take
+  Of life or death!"
+
+                    So, scarce awake
+  Dismounting, did she leave that place,
+  And totter some yards: with her face
+  Turn'd upward to the sky she lay,
+  Her head on a wet heap of hay,
+  And fell asleep: and while she slept,
+  And did not dream, the minutes crept
+  Round to the twelve again; but she,
+  Being waked at last, sigh'd quietly,
+  And strangely childlike came, and said:
+  "I will not." Straightway Godmar's head,
+  As though it hung on strong wires, turn'd
+  Most sharply round, and his face burn'd.
+
+  For Robert--both his eyes were dry,
+  He could not weep but gloomily
+  He seem'd to watch the rain; yea, too,
+  His lips were firm; he tried once more
+  To touch her lips; she reach'd out, sore
+  And vain desire so tortured them,
+  The poor grey lips, and now the hem
+  Of his sleeve brush'd them.
+
+                            With a start
+  Up Godmar rose, thrust them apart;
+  From Robert's throat he loosed the bands
+  Of silk and mail; with empty hands
+  Held out, she stood and gazed, and saw,
+  The long bright blade without a flaw
+  Glide out from Godmar's sheath, his hand
+  In Robert's hair; she saw him bend
+  Back Robert's head; she saw him send
+  The thin steel down; the blow told well,
+  Right backward the knight Robert fell,
+  And moan'd as dogs do, being half dead,
+  Unwitting, as I deem: so then
+  Godmar turn'd grinning to his men,
+  Who ran, some five or six, and beat
+  His head to pieces at their feet.
+
+  Then Godmar turn'd again and said:
+  "So, Jehane, the first fitte is read!
+  Take note, my lady, that your way
+  Lies backward to the Chatelet!"
+  She shook her head and gazed awhile
+  At her cold hands with a rueful smile,
+  As though this thing had made her mad.
+  This was the parting that they had
+  Beside the haystack in the floods.
+
+
+
+
+  RIDING TOGETHER.
+
+
+  For many, many days together
+    The wind blew steady from the East;
+  For many days hot grew the weather,
+    About the time of our Lady's Feast.
+
+  For many days we rode together,
+    Yet met we neither friend nor foe;
+  Hotter and clearer grew the weather,
+    Steadily did the East wind blow.
+
+  We saw the trees in the hot, bright weather,
+    Clear-cut, with shadows very black,
+  As freely we rode on together
+    With helms unlaced and bridles slack.
+
+  And often as we rode together,
+    We, looking down the green-bank'd stream,
+  Saw flowers in the sunny weather,
+    And saw the bubble-making bream.
+
+  And in the night lay down together,
+    And hung above our heads the rood,
+  Or watch'd night-long in the dewy weather,
+    The while the moon did watch the wood.
+
+  Our spears stood bright and thick together,
+    Straight out the banners stream'd behind,
+  As we gallop'd on in the sunny weather,
+    With faces turn'd towards the wind.
+
+  Down sank our threescore spears together,
+    As thick we saw the Pagans ride;
+  His eager face in the clear fresh weather,
+    Shone out that last time by my side.
+
+  Up the sweep of the bridge we dash'd together,
+    It rock'd to the crash of the meeting spears,
+  Down rain'd the buds of the dear spring weather,
+    The elm-tree flowers fell like tears.
+
+  There, as we roll'd and writhed together,
+    I threw my arms above my head,
+  For close by my side, in the lovely weather,
+    I saw him reel and fall back dead.
+
+  I and the slayer met together,
+    He waited the death-stroke there in his place,
+  With thoughts of death, in the lovely weather,
+    Gapingly mazed at my madden'd face.
+
+  Madly I fought as we fought together;
+    In vain: the little Christian band
+  The pagans drowned, as in stormy weather,
+    The river drowns low-lying land.
+
+  They bound my blood-stain'd hands together,
+    They bound his corpse to nod by my side:
+  Then on we rode, in the bright-March weather,
+    With clash of cymbals did we ride.
+
+  We ride no more, no more together;
+    My prison-bars are thick and strong,
+  I take no heed of any weather,
+    The sweet Saints grant I live not long.
+
+
+
+
+  SUMMER DAWN.
+
+
+  Pray but one prayer for me 'twixt thy closed lips,
+    Think but one thought of me up in the stars.
+  The summer night waneth, the morning light slips,
+    Faint and grey 'twixt the leaves of the aspen, betwixt the cloud-bars,
+  That are patiently waiting there for the dawn:
+    Patient and colourless, though Heaven's gold
+  Waits to float through them along with the sun.
+  Far out in the meadows, above the young corn,
+    The heavy elms wait, and restless and cold
+  The uneasy wind rises; the roses are dun;
+  Through the long twilight they pray for the dawn,
+  Round the lone house in the midst of the corn.
+    Speak but one word to me over the corn,
+    Over the tender, bow'd locks of the corn.
+
+
+
+
+  FROM
+  "THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON."
+
+  BOOK XIV.
+
+  The Sirens--The Garden of the Hesperides--The Heroes do Sacrifice at
+    Malea.
+
+
+  Across the open sea they drew their wake
+  For three long days, and when the fourth 'gan break
+  Their eyes beheld the fair Trinacrian shore,
+  And there-along they coasted two days more.
+  Then first Medea warned them to take heed,
+  Lest they should end all memory of their deed
+  Where dwell the Sirens on the yellow sand,
+  And folk should think some tangled poisonous land
+  Had buried them, or some tumultuous sea
+  O'er their white bones was tossing angrily;
+  Or that some muddy river, far from Greece,
+  Drove seaward o'er the ringlets of the Fleece.
+    But when the Minyæ hearkened to this word,
+  With many a thought their wearied hearts were stirred,
+  And longing for the near-gained Grecian land,
+  Where in a little while their feet should stand;
+  Yet none the less like to a happy dream,
+  Now, when they neared it, did their own home seem,
+  And like a dream the glory of their quest,
+  And therewithal some thought of present rest
+  Stole over them, and they were fain to sigh,
+  Hearkening the sighing restless wind go by.
+    But hard on even of the second day,
+  As o'er the gentle waves they took their way,
+  The orange-scented land-breeze seemed to bear
+  Some other sounds unto the listening ear
+  Than all day long they had been hearkening,
+  The land-born signs of many a well-known thing.
+  Thereat Medea trembled, for she knew
+  That nigh the dreadful sands at last they drew,
+  For certainly the Sirens' song she heard,
+  Though yet her ear could shape it to no word,
+  And by their faces could the queen behold
+  How sweet it was, although no tale it told,
+  To those worn toilers o'er the bitter sea.
+    Now, as they sped along, they presently,
+  Rounding a headland, reached a little bay
+  Walled from the sea by splintered cliffs and grey,
+  Capped by the thymy hills' green wind-beat head,
+  Where 'mid the whin the burrowing rabbits fed.
+  And 'neath the cliff they saw a belt of sand,
+  'Twixt Nereus' pasture and the high scarped land,
+  Whereon, yet far off, could their eyes behold
+  White bodies moving, crowned and girt with gold,
+  Wherefrom it seemed that lovely music welled.
+    So when all this the grey-eyed queen beheld,
+  She said: "O Jason, I have made thee wise
+  In this and other things; turn then thine eyes
+  Seaward, and note the ripple of the sea,
+  Where there is hope as well as fear for thee.
+  Nor look upon the death that lurketh there
+  'Neath the grey cliff, though sweet it seems and fair;
+  For thou art young upon this day to die.
+  Take then the helm, and gazing steadily
+  Upon the road to Greece, make strong thine hand,
+  And steer us toward the lion-haunted land,
+  And thou, O Thracian! if thou e'er hast moved
+  Men's hearts with stories of the Gods who loved,
+  And men who suffered, move them on this day,
+  Taking the deadly love of death away,
+  That even now is stealing over them,
+  While still they gaze upon the ocean's hem,
+  Where their undoing is if they but knew."
+
+    But while she spake, still nigher Argo drew
+  Unto the yellow edges of the shore,
+  And little help she had of ashen oar,
+  For as her shielded side rolled through the sea,
+  Silent with glittering eyes the Minyæ
+  Gazed o'er the surge, for they were nigh enow
+  To see the gusty wind of evening blow
+  Long locks of hair across those bodies white,
+  With golden spray hiding some dear delight;
+  Yea, nigh enow to see their red lips smile,
+  Wherefrom all song had ceased now for a while,
+  As though they deemed the prey was in the net,
+  And they no more had need a bait to set,
+  But their own bodies, fair beyond man's thought,
+  Under the grey cliff, hidden not of aught
+  But of such mist of tears as in the eyes
+  Of those seafaring men might chance to rise.
+    A moment Jason gazed, then through the waist
+  Ran swiftly, and with trembling hands made haste
+  To trim the sail, then to the tiller ran,
+  And thrust aside the skilled Milesian man,
+  Who with half-open mouth, and dreamy eyes,
+  Stood steering Argo to that land of lies;
+  But as he staggered forward, Jason's hand
+  Hard on the tiller steered away from land,
+  And as her head a little now fell off
+  Unto the wide sea, did he shout this scoff
+  To Thracian Orpheus: "Minstrel, shall we die,
+  Because thou hast forgotten utterly
+  What things she taught thee whom men call divine?
+  Or will thy measures but lead folk to wine,
+  And scented beds, and not to noble deeds?
+  Or will they fail as fail the shepherd's reeds
+  Before the trumpet, when these sea-witches
+  Pipe shrilly to the washing of the seas?
+  I am a man, and these but beasts, but thou
+  Giving these souls, that all were men ere now,
+  Shalt be a very God and not a man!"
+    So spake he; but his fingers Orpheus ran
+  Over the strings, and sighing turned away
+  From that fair ending of the sunny bay;
+  But as his well-skilled hands were preluding
+  What his heart swelled with, they began to sing
+  With pleading voices from the yellow sands,
+  Clustered together, with appealing hands
+  Reached out to Argo as the great sail drew,
+  While o'er their white limbs sharp the spray-shower flew,
+  Since they spared not to set white feet among
+  The cold waves heedless of their honied song.
+    Sweetly they sang, and still the answer came
+  Piercing and clear from him, as bursts the flame
+  From out the furnace in the moonless night;
+  Yet, as their words are no more known aright
+  Through lapse of many ages, and no man
+  Can any more across the waters wan
+  Behold those singing women of the sea,
+  Once more I pray you all to pardon me,
+  If with my feeble voice and harsh I sing
+  From what dim memories yet may chance to cling
+  About men's hearts, of lovely things once sung
+  Beside the sea, while yet the world was young.
+
+      THE SIRENS.
+
+  O happy seafarers are ye,
+    And surely all your ills are past,
+  And toil upon the land and sea,
+    Since ye are brought to us at last.
+
+  To you the fashion of the world,
+    Wide lands laid waste, fair cities burned,
+  And plagues, and kings from kingdoms hurled,
+    Are nought, since hither ye have turned.
+
+  For as upon this beach we stand,
+    And o'er our heads the sea-fowl flit,
+  Our eyes behold a glorious land,
+    And soon shall ye be kings of it.
+
+      ORPHEUS.
+
+  A little more, a little more,
+    O carriers of the Golden Fleece,
+  A little labour with the oar,
+    Before we reach the land of Greece.
+
+  E'en now perchance faint rumours reach
+    Men's ears of this our victory,
+  And draw them down unto the beach
+    To gaze across the empty sea.
+
+  But since the longed-for day is nigh,
+    And scarce a God could stay us now,
+  Why do ye hang your heads and sigh,
+    Hindering for nought our eager prow?
+
+      THE SIRENS.
+
+  Ah, had ye chanced to reach the home
+    On which your fond desires were set,
+  Into what troubles had ye come?
+    Short love and joy and long regret.
+
+  But now, but now, when ye have lain
+    Asleep with us a little while
+  Beneath the washing of the main,
+    How calm shall be your waking smile!
+
+  For ye shall smile to think of life
+    That knows no troublous change or fear,
+  No unavailing bitter strife,
+    That ere its time brings trouble near.
+
+      ORPHEUS.
+
+  Is there some murmur in your ears,
+    That all that we have done is nought,
+  And nothing ends our cares and fears,
+    Till the last fear on us is brought?
+
+      THE SIRENS.
+
+  Alas! and will ye stop your ears,
+    In vain desire to do aught,
+  And wish to live 'mid cares and fears,
+    Until the last fear makes you nought?
+
+      ORPHEUS.
+
+  Is not the May-time now on earth,
+    When close against the city wall
+  The folk are singing in their mirth,
+    While on their heads the May-flowers fall?
+
+      THE SIRENS.
+
+  Yes, May is come, and its sweet breath
+    Shall well-nigh make you weep to-day,
+  And pensive with swift-coming death,
+    Shall ye be satiate of the May.
+
+      ORPHEUS.
+
+  Shall not July bring fresh delight,
+    As underneath green trees ye sit,
+  And o'er some damsel's body white
+    The noontide shadows change and flit?
+
+      THE SIRENS.
+
+  No new delight July shall bring
+    But ancient fear and fresh desire,
+  And, spite of every lovely thing,
+    Of July surely shall ye tire.
+
+      ORPHEUS.
+
+  And now, when August comes on thee,
+    And 'mid the golden sea of corn
+  The merry reapers thou mayst see,
+    Wilt thou still think the earth forlorn?
+
+      THE SIRENS.
+
+  Set flowers upon thy short-lived head,
+    And in thine heart forgetfulness
+  Of man's hard toil, and scanty bread,
+    And weary of those days no less.
+
+      ORPHEUS.
+
+  Or wilt thou climb the sunny hill,
+    In the October afternoon,
+  To watch the purple earth's blood fill
+    The grey vat to the maiden's tune?
+
+      THE SIRENS.
+
+  When thou beginnest to grow old,
+    Bring back remembrance of thy bliss
+  With that the shining cup doth hold,
+    And weary helplessly of this.
+
+      ORPHEUS.
+
+  Or pleasureless shall we pass by
+    The long cold night and leaden day,
+  That song, and tale, and minstrelsy
+    Shall make as merry as the May?
+
+      THE SIRENS.
+
+  List then, to-night, to some old tale
+    Until the tears o'erflow thine eyes;
+  But what shall all these things avail,
+    When sad to-morrow comes and dies?
+
+      ORPHEUS.
+
+  And when the world is born again,
+    And with some fair love, side by side,
+  Thou wanderest 'twixt the sun and rain,
+    In that fresh love-begetting tide;
+
+  Then, when the world is born again,
+    And the sweet year before thee lies,
+  Shall thy heart think of coming pain,
+    Or vex itself with memories?
+
+      THE SIRENS.
+
+  Ah! then the world is born again
+    With burning love unsatisfied,
+  And new desires fond and vain,
+    And weary days from tide to tide.
+
+  Ah! when the world is born again,
+    A little day is soon gone by,
+  When thou, unmoved by sun or rain,
+    Within a cold straight house shalt lie.
+
+    Therewith they ceased awhile, as languidly
+  The head of Argo fell off toward the sea,
+  And through the water she began to go,
+  For from the land a fitful wind did blow,
+  That, dallying with the many-coloured sail,
+  Would sometimes swell it out and sometimes fail,
+  As nigh the east side of the bay they drew;
+  Then o'er the waves again the music flew.
+
+      THE SIRENS.
+
+    Think not of pleasure, short and vain.
+  Wherewith, 'mid days of toil and pain,
+  With sick and sinking hearts ye strive
+  To cheat yourselves that ye may live
+  With cold death ever close at hand;
+  Think rather of a peaceful land,
+  The changeless land where ye may be
+  Roofed over by the changeful sea.
+
+      ORPHEUS.
+
+    And is the fair town nothing then,
+  The coming of the wandering men
+  With that long talked of thing and strange,
+  And news of how the kingdoms change;
+  The pointed hands, and wondering
+  At doers of a desperate thing?
+  Push on, for surely this shall be
+  Across a narrow strip of sea.
+
+      THE SIRENS.
+
+    Alas! poor souls and timorous,
+  Will ye draw nigh to gaze at us
+  And see if we are fair indeed,
+  For such as we shall be your meed,
+  There, where our hearts would have you go.
+  And where can the earth-dwellers show
+  In any land such loveliness
+  As that wherewith your eyes we bless,
+  O wanderers of the Minyæ,
+  Worn toilers over land and sea?
+
+      ORPHEUS.
+
+    Fair as the lightning thwart the sky,
+  As sun-dyed snow upon the high
+  Untrodden heaps of threatening stone
+  The eagle looks upon alone,
+  O fair as the doomed victim's wreath,
+  O fair as deadly sleep and death,
+  What will ye with them, earthly men,
+  To mate your three-score years and ten?
+  Toil rather, suffer and be free,
+  Betwixt the green earth and the sea.
+
+       THE SIRENS.
+
+    If ye be bold with us to go,
+  Things such as happy dreams may show
+  Shall your once heavy eyes behold
+  About our palaces of gold;
+  Where waters 'neath the waters run,
+  And from o'erhead a harmless sun
+  Gleams through the woods of chrysolite.
+  There gardens fairer to the sight
+  Than those of the Phæacian king
+  Shall ye behold; and, wondering,
+  Gaze on the sea-born fruit and flowers,
+  And thornless and unchanging bowers,
+  Whereof the May-time knoweth nought.
+    So to the pillared house being brought,
+  Poor souls, ye shall not be alone,
+  For o'er the floors of pale blue stone
+  All day such feet as ours shall pass,
+  And, 'twixt the glimmering walls of glass,
+  Such bodies garlanded with gold,
+  So faint, so fair, shall ye behold,
+  And clean forget the treachery
+  Of changing earth and tumbling sea.
+
+      ORPHEUS.
+
+    O the sweet valley of deep grass,
+  Where-through the summer stream doth pass,
+  In chain of shallow, and still pool,
+  From misty morn to evening cool;
+  Where the black ivy creeps and twines
+  O'er the dark-armed, red-trunkèd pines,
+  Whence clattering the pigeon flits,
+  Or, brooding o'er her thin eggs, sits,
+  And every hollow of the hills
+  With echoing song the mavis fills.
+  There by the stream, all unafraid,
+  Shall stand the happy shepherd maid,
+  Alone in first of sunlit hours;
+  Behind her, on the dewy flowers,
+  Her homespun woollen raiment lies,
+  And her white limbs and sweet grey eyes
+  Shine from the calm green pool and deep,
+  While round about the swallows sweep,
+  Not silent; and would God that we,
+  Like them, were landed from the sea.
+
+      THE SIRENS.
+
+    Shall we not rise with you at night,
+  Up through the shimmering green twilight,
+  That maketh there our changeless day,
+  Then going through the moonlight grey,
+  Shall we not sit upon these sands,
+  To think upon the troublous lands
+  Long left behind, where once ye were,
+  When every day brought change and fear?
+  There, with white arms about you twined,
+  And shuddering somewhat at the wind
+  That ye rejoiced erewhile to meet,
+  Be happy, while old stories sweet,
+  Half understood, float round your ears,
+  And fill your eyes with happy tears.
+    Ah! while we sing unto you there,
+  As now we sing, with yellow hair
+  Blown round about these pearly limbs,
+  While underneath the grey sky swims
+  The light shell-sailor of the waves,
+  And to our song, from sea-filled caves
+  Booms out an echoing harmony,
+  Shall ye not love the peaceful sea?
+
+      ORPHEUS.
+
+    Nigh the vine-covered hillocks green,
+  In days agone, have I not seen
+  The brown-clad maidens amorous,
+  Below the long rose-trellised house,
+  Dance to the querulous pipe and shrill,
+  When the grey shadow of the hill
+  Was lengthening at the end of day?
+  Not shadowy nor pale were they,
+  But limbed like those who 'twixt the trees,
+  Follow the swift of Goddesses.
+  Sunburnt they are somewhat, indeed,
+  To where the rough brown woollen weed
+  Is drawn across their bosoms sweet,
+  Or cast from off their dancing feet;
+  But yet the stars, the moonlight grey,
+  The water wan, the dawn of day,
+  Can see their bodies fair and white
+  As Hers, who once, for man's delight,
+  Before the world grew hard and old,
+  Came o'er the bitter sea and cold;
+  And surely those that met me there,
+  Her handmaidens and subjects were;
+  And shame-faced, half-repressed desire
+  Had lit their glorious eyes with fire,
+  That maddens eager hearts of men.
+  O would that I were with them when
+  The new-risen moon is gathering light,
+  And yellow from the homestead white
+  The windows gleam; but verily
+  This waits us o'er a little sea.
+
+      THE SIRENS.
+
+    Come to the land where none grows old,
+  And none is rash or over-bold,
+  Nor any noise there is nor war,
+  Nor rumour from wild lands afar,
+  Nor plagues, nor birth and death of kings;
+  No vain desire of unknown things
+  Shall vex you there, no hope or fear
+  Of that which never draweth near;
+  But in that lovely land and still
+  Ye may remember what ye will,
+  And what ye will, forget for aye.
+    So while the kingdoms pass away,
+  Ye sea-beat hardened toilers erst,
+  Unresting, for vain fame athirst,
+  Shall be at peace for evermore,
+  With hearts fulfilled of Godlike lore,
+  And calm, unwavering Godlike love,
+  No lapse of time can turn or move.
+  There, ages after your fair Fleece
+  Is clean forgotten, yea, and Greece
+  Is no more counted glorious,
+  Alone with us, alone with us,
+  Alone with us, dwell happily,
+  Beneath our trembling roof of sea.
+
+      ORPHEUS.
+
+    Ah! do ye weary of the strife
+  And long to change this eager life
+  For shadowy and dull hopelessness,
+  Thinking indeed to gain no less
+  Than far from this grey light to lie,
+  And there to die and not to die,
+  To be as if ye ne'er had been,
+  Yet keep your memory fresh and green,
+  To have no thought of good or ill,
+  Yet feed your fill or pleasure still?
+  O idle dream! Ah, verily
+  If it shall happen unto me
+  That I have thought of anything,
+  When o'er my bones the sea-fowl sing,
+  And I lie dead, how shall I pine
+  For those fresh joys that once were mine,
+  On this green fount of joy and mirth,
+  The ever young and glorious earth;
+  Then, helpless, shall I call to mind
+  Thoughts of the sweet flower-scented wind,
+  The dew, the gentle rain at night,
+  The wonder-working snow and white.
+  The song of birds, the water's fall,
+  The sun that maketh bliss of all;
+  Yea, this our toil and victory,
+  The tyrannous and conquered sea.
+
+      THE SIRENS.
+
+  Ah, will ye go, and whither then
+    Will ye go from us, soon to die,
+  To fill your three-score years and ten,
+    With many an unnamed misery?
+
+  And this the wretchedest of all,
+    That when upon your lonely eyes
+  The last faint heaviness shall fall
+    Ye shall bethink you of our cries.
+
+  Come back, nor grown old, seek in vain
+    To hear us sing across the sea.
+  Come back, come back, come back again,
+    Come back, O fearful Minyæ!
+
+      ORPHEUS.
+
+  Ah, once again, ah, once again,
+    The black prow plunges through the sea,
+  Nor yet shall all your toil be vain,
+    Nor yet forgot, O Minyæ.
+
+    In such wise sang the Thracian, in such wise
+  Out gushed the Sirens' deadly melodies;
+  But long before the mingled song was done,
+  Back to the oars the Minyæ, one by one,
+  Slunk silently; though many an one sighed sore,
+  As his strong fingers met the wood once more,
+  And from his breast the toilsome breathing came.
+    But as they laboured, some for very shame
+  Hung down their heads, and yet amongst them some
+  Gazed at the place whence that sweet song had come;
+  But round the oars and Argo's shielded side
+  The sea grew white, and she began to glide
+  Swift through the waters of that deadly bay;
+  But when a long wake now behind her lay,
+  And still the whistle of the wind increased,
+  Past shroud and mast, and all the song had ceased,
+  Butes rose up, the fair Athenian man,
+  And with wild eyes betwixt the rowers ran
+  Unto the poop and leapt into the sea;
+  Then all men rested on their oars, but he
+  Rose to the top, and towards the shore swam fast;
+  While all eyes watched him, who had well-nigh past
+  The place where sand and water 'gan to meet
+  In wreaths and ripples round the ivory feet,
+  When sun-burnt swimmer, snow-white glancing limb,
+  And yellow sand unto their eyes grew dim,
+  Nor did they see their fellow any more.
+    But when they once again beheld the shore
+  The wind sung o'er the empty beach and bare,
+  And by the cliff uprose into the air
+  A delicate and glittering little cloud,
+  That seemed some many-coloured sun to shroud;
+  But as the rugged cliff it drew above
+  The wondering Minyæ beheld it move
+  Westward, toward Lilybæum and the sun.
+    Then once more was their seaward course begun,
+  And soon those deadly sands were far astern,
+  Nor ever after could the heroes learn
+  If Butes lived or died; but old tales tell
+  That while the tumbling waves he breasted well,
+  Venus beheld him, as unseen she drew
+  From sunny Cyprus to the headland blue
+  Of Lilybæum, where her temple is;
+  She, with a mind his sun-burnt brows to kiss,
+  E'en as his feet were dropping nigh the beach,
+  And ere his hand the deadly hands could reach,
+  Stooped, as the merlin stoops upon the dove,
+  And snatched him thence to be awhile her love,
+  Betwixt the golden pillars of her shrine,
+  That those who pass the Ægades see shine
+  From high-raised Lilybæum o'er the sea.
+
+    But far away the sea-beat Minyæ
+  Cast forth the foam, as through the growing night
+  They laboured ever, having small delight
+  In life all empty of that promised bliss,
+  In love that scarce can give a dying kiss,
+  In pleasure ending sweet songs with a wail,
+  In fame that little can dead men avail,
+  In vain toil struggling with the fateful stream,
+  In hope, the promise of a morning dream.
+    Yet as night died, and the cold sea and grey
+  Seemed running with them toward the dawn of day,
+  Needs must they once again forget their death,
+  Needs must they, being alive and drawing breath,
+  As men who of no other life can know
+  In their own minds again immortal grow.
+    But toward the south a little now they bent,
+  And for a while o'er landless sea they went,
+  But on the third day made another land
+  At dawn of day, and thitherward did stand;
+  And since the wind blew lightly from the shore,
+  Somewhat abeam, they feared not with the oar
+  To push across the shallowing sea and green,
+  That washed a land the fairest they had seen,
+  Whose shell-strewn beach at highest of the tide
+  'Twixt sea and flowery shore was nowise wide,
+  And drawn a little backward from the sea
+  There stood a marble wall wrought cunningly,
+  Rosy and white, set thick with images,
+  And over-topped with heavy-fruited trees,
+  Which by the shore ran, as the bay did bend,
+  And to their eyes had neither gap nor end;
+  Nor any gate: and looking over this,
+  They saw a place not made for earthly bliss,
+  Or eyes of dying men, for growing there
+  The yellow apple and the painted pear,
+  And well-filled golden cups of oranges
+  Hung amid groves of pointed cypress trees;
+  On grassy slopes the twining vine-boughs grew,
+  And hoary olives 'twixt far mountains blue,
+  And many-coloured flowers, like as a cloud
+  The rugged southern cliffs did softly shroud;
+  And many a green-necked bird sung to his mate
+  Within the slim-leaved, thorny pomegranate,
+  That flung its unstrung rubies on the grass,
+  And slowly o'er the place the wind did pass
+  Heavy with many odours that it bore
+  From thymy hills down to the sea-beat shore,
+  Because no flower there is, that all the year,
+  From spring to autumn, beareth otherwhere,
+  But there it flourished; nor the fruit alone
+  From 'twixt the green leaves and the boughs outshone,
+  For there each tree was ever flowering.
+    Nor was there lacking many a living thing
+  Changed of its nature; for the roebuck there
+  Walked fearless with the tiger; and the bear
+  Rolled sleepily upon the fruit-strawn grass,
+  Letting the conies o'er his rough hide pass,
+  With blinking eyes, that meant no treachery.
+  Careless the partridge passed the red fox by;
+  Untouched the serpent left the thrushes brown,
+  And as a picture was the lion's frown.
+    But in the midst there was a grassy space,
+  Raised somewhat over all the flowery place,
+  On marble terrace-walls wrought like a dream;
+  And round about it ran a clear blue stream,
+  Bridged o'er with marble steps, and midmost there
+  Grew a green tree, whose smooth grey boughs did bear
+  Such fruit as never man elsewhere had seen,
+  For 'twixt the sunlight and the shadow green
+  Shone out fair apples of red gleaming gold.
+  Moreover round the tree, in many a fold,
+  Lay coiled a dragon, glittering little less
+  Than that which his eternal watchfulness
+  Was set to guard; nor yet was he alone,
+  For from the daisied grass about him shone
+  Gold raiment wrapping round two damsels fair,
+  And one upon the steps combed out her hair,
+  And with shut eyes sung low as in a dream;
+  And one stood naked in the cold blue stream,
+  While on the bank her golden raiment lay;
+  But on that noontide of the quivering day,
+  She only, hearing the seafarers' shout,
+  Her lovely golden head had turned about,
+  And seen their white sail flapping o'er the wall,
+  And as she turned had let her tresses fall,
+  Which the thin water rippling round her knee
+  Bore outward from her toward the restless sea.
+    Not long she stood, but looking seaward yet,
+  From out the water made good haste to get,
+  And catching up her raiment hastily,
+  Ran up the marble stair, and 'gan to cry:
+  "Wake, O my sisters, wake, for now are come
+  The thieves of Æa to our peaceful home."
+    Then at her voice they gat them to their feet,
+  And when her raiment all her body sweet
+  Once more had hidden, joining hand to hand,
+  About the sacred apples did they stand,
+  While coiled the dragon closer to the tree,
+  And raised his head above them threateningly.
+
+    Meanwhile, from Argo many a sea-beat face
+  Gazed longingly upon that lovely place,
+  And some their eager hands already laid
+  Upon the gangway. Then Medea said:--
+  "Get back unto the oars, O Minyæ,
+  Nor loiter here, for what have such as we
+  To do herein, where, 'mid undying trees,
+  Undying watch the wise Hesperides,
+  And where the while they watch, scarce can a God
+  Set foot upon the fruit-besprinkled sod
+  That no snow ever covers? therefore haste,
+  Nor yet in wondering your fair lives waste;
+  For these are as the Gods, nor think of us,
+  Nor to their eyes can aught be glorious
+  That son of man can do; would God that I
+  Could see far off the misty headland lie,
+  Where we the guilt of blood shall wash away,
+  For I grow weary of the dashing spray,
+  And ceaseless roll of interwoven seas,
+  And fain were sitting 'neath the whispering trees
+  In homely places, where the children play,
+  Who change like me, grow old, and die some day."
+    She ceased, and little soothly did they grieve,
+  For all its loveliness, that land to leave,
+  For now some God had chilled their hardihead,
+  And in their hearts had set a sacred dread,
+  They knew not why; but on their oars they hung,
+  A little longer as the sisters sung.
+
+        "O ye, who to this place have strayed,
+      That never for man's eyes was made,
+      Depart in haste, as ye have come,
+      And bear back to your sea-beat home
+      This memory of the age of gold,
+      And for your eyes, grown over-bold,
+      Your hearts shall pay in sorrowing,
+      For want of many a half-seen thing.
+
+        "Lo, such as is this garden green,
+      In days past, all the world has been,
+      And what we know all people knew,
+      Save this, that unto worse all grew.
+        "But since the golden age is gone,
+      This little place is left alone,
+      Unchanged, unchanging, watched of us,
+      The daughters of wise Hesperus.
+        "Surely the heavenly Messenger
+      Full oft is fain to enter here,
+      And yet without must he abide;
+      Nor longeth less the dark king's bride
+      To set red lips unto that fruit
+      That erst made nought her mother's suit.
+      Here would Diana rest awhile,
+      Forgetful of her woodland guile,
+      Among these beasts that fear her nought.
+      Nor is it less in Pallas' thought,
+      Beneath our trees to ponder o'er
+      The wide, unfathomed sea of lore;
+      And oft-kissed Citheræa, no less
+      Weary of love, full fain would press
+      These flowers with soft unsandalled feet.
+
+        "But unto us our rest is sweet,
+      Neither shall any man or God
+      Or lovely Goddess touch the sod
+      Where-under old times buried lie,
+      Before the world knew misery.
+      Nor will we have a slave or king,
+      Nor yet will we learn anything
+      But that we know, that makes us glad;
+      While oft the very Gods are sad
+      With knowing what the Fates shall do.
+        "Neither from us shall wisdom go
+      To fill the hungering hearts of men,
+      Lest to them threescore years and ten
+      Come but to seem a little day,
+      Once given, and taken soon away.
+      Nay, rather let them find their life
+      Bitter and sweet, fulfilled of strife,
+      Restless with hope, vain with regret,
+      Trembling with fear, most strangely set
+      'Twixt memory and forgetfulness;
+      So more shall joy be, troubles less,
+      And surely when all this is past,
+      They shall not want their rest at last.
+
+        "Let earth and heaven go on their way,
+      While still we watch from day to day,
+      In this green place left all alone,
+      A remnant of the days long gone."
+
+    There in the wind they hung, as word by word
+  The clear-voiced singers silently they heard;
+  But when the air was barren of their song,
+  Anigh the shore they durst not linger long,
+  So northward turned forewearied Argo's head,
+  And dipping oars, from that fair country sped,
+  Fulfilled of new desires and pensive thought,
+  Which that day's life unto their hearts had brought.
+    Then hard they toiled upon the bitter sea,
+  And in two days they did not fail to be
+  In sight of land, a headland high and blue
+  Which straight Milesian Erginus knew
+  To be the fateful place which now they sought,
+  Stormy Malea, so thitherward they brought
+  The groaning ship, and, casting anchor, lay
+  Beneath that headland's lee, within a bay,
+  Wherefrom the more part landed, and their feet
+  Once more the happy soil of Greece did meet.
+    Therewith they failèd not to bring ashore
+  Rich robes of price and of fair arms good store,
+  And gold and silver, that they there might buy
+  What yet they lacked for their solemnity;
+  Then, while upon the highest point of land
+  Some built an altar, Jason, with a band
+  Of all the chiefest of the Minyæ,
+  Turned inland from the murmur of the sea.
+    Not far they went ere by a little stream
+  Down in a valley they could see the gleam
+  Of brazen pillars and fair-gilded vanes,
+  And, dropping down by dank dark-wooded lanes
+  From off the hill-side, reached a house at last
+  Where in and out men-slaves and women passed,
+  And guests were streaming fast into the hall,
+  Where now the oaken boards were laid for all.
+  With these the Minyæ went, and soon they were
+  Within a pillared hall both great and fair,
+  Where folk already sat beside the board,
+  And on the dais was an ancient lord.
+    But when these saw the fearless Minyæ
+  Glittering in arms, they sprang up hastily,
+  And each man turned about unto the wall
+  To seize his spear or staff: then through the hall
+  Jason cried out: "Laconians, fear ye not,
+  Nor leave the flesh-meat while it reeketh hot
+  For dread of us, for we are men as ye,
+  And I am Jason of the Minyæ,
+  And come from Æa to the land of Greece,
+  And in my ship bear back the Golden Fleece,
+  And a fair Colchian queen to fill my bed.
+  And now we pray to share your wine and bread,
+  And other things we need, and at our hands
+  That ye will take fair things of many lands."
+    "Sirs," said the ancient lord, "be welcome here,
+  Come up and sit by me, and make such cheer
+  As here ye can: glad am I that to me
+  The first of Grecian men from off the sea
+  Ye now are come."
+                    Therewith the great hall rang
+  With joyful shouts, and as, with clash and clang
+  Of well-wrought arms, up to the dais they went,
+  All eyes upon the Minyæ were bent,
+  Nor could they have enough of wondering
+  At this or that sea-tossed victorious king.
+    So with the strangers there they held high feast,
+  And afterwards the slaves drove many a beast
+  Down to the shore, and carried back again
+  Great store of precious things in pack and wain;
+  Wrought gold and silver, gems, full many a bale
+  Of scarlet cloth, and fine silk, fit to veil
+  The perfect limbs of dreaded Goddesses;
+  Spices fresh-gathered from the outland trees,
+  And arms well-wrought, and precious scarce-known wine,
+  And carven images well-nigh divine.
+    So when all folk with these were satisfied,
+  Back went the Minyæ to the water-side,
+  And with them that old lord, fain to behold
+  Victorious Argo and the Fleece of Gold.
+  And so aboard amid the oars he lay
+  Throughout the night, and at the dawn of day
+  Did all men land, nor spared that day to wear
+  The best of all they had of gold-wrought gear,
+  And every one, being crowned with olive grey,
+  Up to the headland did they take their way,
+  Where now already stood the crownèd priests
+  About the altars by the gilt-horned beasts.
+  There, as the fair sun rose, did Jason break
+  Over the altar the thin barley-cake,
+  And cast the salt abroad, and there were slain
+  The milk-white bulls, and there red wine did rain
+  On to the fire from out the ancient jar,
+  And high rose up the red flame, seen afar
+  From many another headland of that shore:
+  But over all its crackling and its roar
+  Uprose from time to time a joyous song,
+  That on the summer morning lay for long,
+  The mighty voices of the Minyæ
+  Exulting o'er the tossing conquered sea,
+  That far below thrust on by tide and wind
+  The crumbling bases of the headland mined.
+
+
+
+
+  FROM
+
+  "THE EARTHLY PARADISE."
+
+  AN APOLOGY.
+
+
+  Of Heaven or Hell I have no power to sing,
+  I cannot ease the burden of your fears,
+  Or make quick-coming death a little thing,
+  Or bring again the pleasure of past years,
+  Nor for my words shall ye forget your tears,
+  Or hope again for aught that I can say,
+  The idle singer of an empty day.
+
+    But rather, when aweary of your mirth,
+  From full hearts still unsatisfied ye sigh,
+  And, feeling kindly unto all the earth,
+  Grudge every minute as it passes by,
+  Made the more mindful that the sweet days die--
+  --Remember me a little then I pray,
+  The idle singer of an empty day.
+
+    The heavy trouble, the bewildering care
+  That weighs us down who live and earn our bread,
+  These idle verses have no power to bear;
+  So let me sing of names remembered,
+  Because they, living not, can ne'er be dead,
+  Or long time take their memory quite away
+  From us poor singers of an empty day.
+
+    Dreamer of dreams, born out of my due time,
+  Why should I strive to set the crooked straight?
+  Let it suffice me that my murmuring rhyme
+  Beats with light wing against the ivory gate,
+  Telling a tale not too importunate
+  To those who in the sleepy region stay,
+  Lulled by the singer of an empty day.
+
+    Folk say, a wizard to a northern king
+  At Christmas-tide such wondrous things did show,
+  That through one window men beheld the spring,
+  And through another saw the summer glow,
+  And through a third the fruited vines a-row,
+  While still, unheard, but in its wonted way,
+  Piped the drear wind of that December day.
+
+    So with this Earthly Paradise it is,
+  If ye will read aright, and pardon me,
+  Who strive to build a shadowy isle of bliss
+  Midmost the beating of the steely sea,
+  Where tossed about all hearts of men must be:
+  Whose ravening monsters mighty men shall slay,
+  Not the poor singer of an empty day.
+
+
+
+
+  FROM
+
+  PROLOGUE--THE WANDERERS.
+
+  ARGUMENT.
+
+Certain gentlemen and mariners of Norway, having considered all that
+they had heard of the Earthly Paradise, set sail to find it, and after
+many troubles and the lapse of many years came old men to some Western
+land, of which they had never before heard: there they died, when they
+had dwelt there certain years, much honoured of the strange people.
+
+
+  Forget six counties overhung with smoke,
+  Forget the snorting steam and piston stroke,
+  Forget the spreading of the hideous town;
+  Think rather of the pack-horse on the down,
+  And dream of London, small, and white, and clean,
+  The clear Thames bordered by its gardens green;
+  Think, that below bridge the green lapping waves
+  Smite some few keels that bear Levantine staves,
+  Cut from the yew wood on the burnt-up hill,
+  And pointed jars that Greek hands toiled to fill,
+  And treasured scanty spice from some far sea,
+  Florence gold cloth, and Ypres napery,
+  And cloth of Bruges, and hogsheads of Guienne;
+  While nigh the thronged wharf Geoffrey Chaucer's pen
+  Moves over bills of lading--mid such times
+  Shall dwell the hollow puppets of my rhymes.
+
+    A nameless city in a distant sea,
+  White as the changing walls of faërie,
+  Thronged with much people clad in ancient guise
+  I now am fain to set before your eyes;
+  There, leave the clear green water and the quays,
+  And pass betwixt its marble palaces,
+  Until ye come unto the chiefest square;
+  A bubbling conduit is set midmost there,
+  And round about it now the maidens throng,
+  With jest and laughter, and sweet broken song,
+  Making but light of labour new begun
+  While in their vessels gleams the morning sun.
+    On one side of the square a temple stands,
+  Wherein the gods worshipped in ancient lands
+  Still have their altars, a great market-place
+  Upon two other sides fills all the space,
+  And thence the busy hum of men comes forth;
+  But on the cold side looking toward the north
+  A pillared council-house may you behold,
+  Within whose porch are images of gold,
+  Gods of the nations who dwelt anciently
+  About the borders of the Grecian sea.
+
+    Pass now between them, push the brazen door,
+  And standing on the polished marble floor
+  Leave all the noises of the square behind;
+  Most calm that reverent chamber shall ye find,
+  Silent at first, but for the noise you made
+  When on the brazen door your hand you laid
+  To shut it after you--but now behold
+  The city rulers on their thrones of gold,
+  Clad in most fair attire, and in their hands
+  Long carven silver-banded ebony wands;
+  Then from the daïs drop your eyes and see
+  Soldiers and peasants standing reverently
+  Before those elders, round a little band
+  Who bear such arms as guard the English land,
+  But battered, rent, and rusted sore, and they,
+  The men themselves, are shrivelled, bent, and grey;
+  And as they lean with pain upon their spears
+  Their brows seem furrowed deep with more than years;
+  For sorrow dulls their heavy sunken eyes,
+  Bent are they less with time than miseries.
+
+    Pondering on them the city grey-beards gaze
+  Through kindly eyes, midst thoughts of other days,
+  And pity for poor souls, and vague regret
+  For all the things that might have happened yet,
+  Until, their wonder gathering to a head,
+  The wisest man, who long that land has led,
+  Breaks the deep silence, unto whom again
+  A wanderer answers. Slowly as in pain,
+  And with a hollow voice as from a tomb
+  At first he tells the story of his doom,
+  But as it grows and once more hopes and fears,
+  Both measureless, are ringing round his ears,
+  His eyes grow bright, his seeming days decrease,
+  For grief once told brings somewhat back of peace.
+
+        THE ELDER OF THE CITY.
+
+    From what unheard-of world, in what strange keel,
+  Have ye come hither to our commonweal?
+  No barbarous race, as these our peasants say,
+  But learned in memories of a long-past day,
+  Speaking, some few at least, the ancient tongue
+  That through the lapse of ages still has clung
+  To us, the seed of the Ionian race.
+    Speak out and fear not; if ye need a place
+  Wherein to pass the end of life away,
+  That shall ye gain from us from this same day,
+  Unless the enemies of God ye are;
+  We fear not you and yours to bear us war,
+  And scarce can think that ye will try again
+  Across the perils of the shifting plain
+  To seek your own land whereso that may be:
+  For folk of ours bearing the memory
+  Of our old land, in days past oft have striven
+  To reach it, unto none of whom was given
+  To come again and tell us of the tale,
+  Therefore our ships are now content to sail,
+  About these happy islands that we know.
+
+
+      THE WANDERER.
+
+    Masters, I have to tell a tale of woe,
+  A tale of folly and of wasted life,
+  Hope against hope, the bitter dregs of strife,
+  Ending, where all things end, in death at last:
+  So if I tell the story of the past,
+  Let it be worth some little rest, I pray,
+  A little slumber ere the end of day.
+
+    No wonder if the Grecian tongue I know,
+  Since at Byzantium many a year ago
+  My father bore the twibil valiantly;
+  There did he marry, and get me, and die,
+  And I went back to Norway to my kin,
+  Long ere this beard ye see did first begin
+  To shade my mouth, but nathless not before
+  Among the Greeks I gathered some small lore,
+  And standing midst the Væringers, still heard
+  From this or that man many a wondrous word;
+  For ye shall know that though we worshipped God,
+  And heard mass duly, still of Swithiod
+  The Greater, Odin and his house of gold,
+  The noble stories ceased not to be told;
+  These moved me more than words of mine can say
+  E'en while at Micklegarth my folks did stay;
+  But when I reached one dying autumn-tide
+  My uncle's dwelling near the forest side,
+  And saw the land so scanty and so bare,
+  And all the hard things men contend with there,
+  A little and unworthy land it seemed,
+  And yet the more of Asagard I dreamed,
+  And worthier seemed the ancient faith of praise.
+
+    But now, but now--when one of all those days
+  Like Lazarus' finger on my heart should be
+  Breaking the fiery fixed eternity,
+  But for one moment--could I see once more
+  The grey-roofed sea-port sloping towards the shore,
+  Or note the brown boats standing in from sea,
+  Or the great dromond swinging from the quay,
+  Or in the beech-woods watch the screaming jay
+  Shoot up betwixt the tall trunks, smooth and grey--
+  Yea, could I see the days before distress
+  When very longing was but happiness.
+
+    Within our house there was a Breton squire
+  Well learned, who fail'd not to fan the fire
+  That evermore unholpen burned in me
+  Strange lands and things beyond belief to see;
+  Much lore of many lands this Breton knew;
+  And for one tale I told, he told me two.
+  He, counting Asagard a new-told thing,
+  Yet spoke of gardens ever blossoming
+  Across the western sea where none grew old,
+  E'en as the books at Micklegarth had told,
+  And said moreover that an English knight
+  Had had the Earthly Paradise in sight,
+  And heard the songs of those that dwelt therein.
+  But entered not, being hindered by his sin.
+  Shortly, so much of this and that he said
+  That in my heart the sharp barb entered,
+  And like real life would empty stories seem,
+  And life from day to day an empty dream.
+
+    Another man there was, a Swabian priest,
+  Who knew the maladies of man and beast,
+  And what things helped them; he the stone still sought
+  Whereby base metal into gold is brought,
+  And strove to gain the precious draught, whereby
+  Men live midst mortal men yet never die;
+  Tales of the Kaiser Redbeard could he tell
+  Who neither went to Heaven nor yet to Hell,
+  When from that fight upon the Asian plain
+  He vanished, but still lives to come again
+  Men know not how or when; but I listening
+  Unto this tale thought it a certain thing
+  That in some hidden vale of Swithiod
+  Across the golden pavement still he trod.
+
+    But while our longing for such things so grew,
+  And ever more and more we deemed them true,
+  Upon the land a pestilence there fell
+  Unheard of yet in any chronicle,
+  And, as the people died full fast of it,
+  With these two men it chanced me once to sit,
+  This learned squire whose name was Nicholas,
+  And Swabian Laurence, as our manner was;
+  For could we help it scarcely did we part
+  From dawn to dusk: so heavy, sad at heart,
+  We from the castle-yard beheld the bay
+  Upon that ne'er-to-be-forgotten day,
+  Little we said amidst that dreary mood,
+  And certes nought that we could say was good.
+
+    It was a bright September afternoon,
+  The parched-up beech-trees would be yellowing soon
+  The yellow flowers grown deeper with the sun
+  Were letting fall their petals one by one;
+  No wind there was, a haze was gathering o'er
+  The furthest bound of the faint yellow shore;
+  And in the oily waters of the bay
+  Scarce moving aught some fisher-cobles lay,
+  And all seemed peace; and had been peace indeed
+  But that we young men of our life had need,
+  And to our listening ears a sound was borne
+  That made the sunlight wretched and forlorn--
+  --The heavy tolling of the minster bell--
+  And nigher yet a tinkling sound did tell
+  That through the streets they bore our Saviour Christ
+  By dying lips in anguish to be kissed.
+
+    At last spoke Nicholas, "How long shall we
+  Abide here, looking forth into the sea
+  Expecting when our turn shall come to die?
+  Fair fellows, will ye come with me and try
+  Now at our worst that long-desired quest,
+  Now--when our worst is death, and life our best."
+    "Nay, but thou know'st," I said, "that I but wait
+  The coming of some man, the turn of fate,
+  To make this voyage--but I die meanwhile,
+  For I am poor, though my blood be not vile,
+  Nor yet for all his lore doth Laurence hold
+  Within his crucibles aught like to gold;
+  And what hast thou, whose father driven forth
+  By Charles of Blois, found shelter in the North?
+  But little riches as I needs must deem."
+    "Well," said he, "things are better than they seem,
+  For 'neath my bed an iron chest I have
+  That holdeth things I have made shift to save
+  E'en for this end; moreover, hark to this,
+  In the next firth a fair long ship there is
+  Well victualled, ready even now for sea,
+  And I may say it 'longeth unto me;
+  Since Marcus Erling, late its owner, lies
+  Dead at the end of many miseries,
+  And little Kirstin, as thou well mayst know,
+  Would be content throughout the world to go
+  If I but took her hand, and now still more
+  Hath heart to leave this poor death-stricken shore.
+  Therefore my gold shall buy us Bordeaux swords
+  And Bordeaux wine as we go oceanwards.
+    "What say ye, will ye go with me to-night,
+  Setting your faces to undreamed delight,
+  Turning your backs unto this troublous hell,
+  Or is the time too short to say farewell?"
+
+    "Not so," I said, "rather would I depart
+  Now while thou speakest, never has my heart
+  Been set on anything within this land."
+    Then said the Swabian, "Let us now take hand
+  And swear to follow evermore this quest
+  Till death or life have set our hearts at rest."
+
+    So with joined hands we swore, and Nicholas said,
+  "To-night, fair friends, be ye apparelled
+  To leave this land, bring all the arms ye can
+  And such men as ye trust, my own good man
+  Guards the small postern looking towards St. Bride,
+  And good it were ye should not be espied,
+  Since mayhap freely ye should not go hence,
+  Thou Rolf in special, for this pestilence
+  Makes all men hard and cruel, nor are they
+  Willing that folk should 'scape if they must stay:
+  Be wise; I bid you for a while farewell,
+  Leave ye this stronghold when St. Peter's bell
+  Strikes midnight, all will surely then be still,
+  And I will bide you at King Tryggve's hill
+  Outside the city gates."
+                           Each went his way
+  Therewith, and I the remnant of that day
+  Gained for the quest three men that I deemed true,
+  And did such other things as I must do,
+  And still was ever listening for the chime
+  Half maddened by the lazy lapse of time,
+  Yea, scarce I thought indeed that I should live
+  Till the great tower the joyful sound should give
+  That set us free: and so the hours went past,
+  Till startled by the echoing clang at last
+  That told of midnight, armed from head to heel
+  Down to the open postern did I steal,
+  Bearing small wealth--this sword that yet hangs here
+  Worn thin and narrow with so many a year,
+  My father's axe that from Byzantium,
+  With some few gems my pouch yet held, had come,
+  Nought else that shone with silver or with gold.
+    But by the postern gate could I behold
+  Laurence the priest all armed as if for war,
+  From off the town-wall, having some small store
+  Of arms and furs and raiment: then once more
+  I turned, and saw the autumn moonlight fall
+  Upon the new-built bastions of the wall,
+  Strange with black shadow and grey flood of light,
+  And further off I saw the lead shine bright
+  On tower and turret-roof against the sky,
+  And looking down I saw the old town lie
+  Black in the shade of the o'er-hanging hill,
+  Stricken with death, and dreary, but all still
+  Until it reached the water of the bay,
+  That in the dead night smote against the quay
+  Not all unheard, though there was little wind.
+  But as I turned to leave the place behind,
+  The wind's light sound, the slowly falling swell,
+  Were hushed at once by that shrill-tinkling bell,
+  That in that stillness jarring on mine ears,
+  With sudden jangle checked the rising tears,
+  And now the freshness of the open sea
+  Seemed ease and joy and very life to me.
+    So greeting my new mates with little sound,
+  We made good haste to reach King Tryggve's mound,
+  And there the Breton Nicholas beheld,
+  Who by the hand fair Kirstin Erling held,
+  And round about them twenty men there stood,
+  Of whom the more part on the holy rood
+  Were sworn till death to follow up the quest,
+  And Kirstin was the mistress of the rest.
+    Again betwixt us was there little speech,
+  But swiftly did we set on toward the beach,
+  And coming there our keel, the Fighting Man,
+  We boarded, and the long oars out we ran,
+  And swept from out the firth, and sped so well
+  That scarcely could we hear St. Peter's bell
+  Toll one, although the light wind blew from land;
+  Then hoisting sail southward we 'gan to stand,
+  And much I joyed beneath the moon to see
+  The lessening land that might have been to me
+  A kindly giver of wife, child, and friend,
+  And happy life, or at the worser end
+  A quiet grave till doomsday rend the earth.
+
+  Night passed, day dawned, and we grew full of mirth
+  As with the ever-rising morning wind
+  Still further lay our threatened death behind,
+  Or so we thought: some eighty men we were,
+  Of whom but fifty knew the shipman's gear,
+  The rest were uplanders; midst such of these
+  As knew not of our quest, with promises
+  Went Nicholas dealing florins round about,
+  With still a fresh tale for each new man's doubt,
+  Till all were fairly won or seemed to be
+  To that strange desperate voyage o'er the sea.
+
+
+
+
+  OGIER THE DANE.
+
+  ARGUMENT.
+
+When Ogier was born, six fay ladies came to the cradle where he lay, and
+gave him various gifts, as to be brave and happy and the like; but the
+sixth gave him to be her love when he should have lived long in the
+world: so Ogier grew up and became the greatest of knights, and at last,
+after many years, fell into the hands of that fay, and with her, as the
+story tells, he lives now, though he returned once to the world, as is
+shown in the process of this tale.
+
+
+  Within some Danish city by the sea,
+  Whose name, changed now, is all unknown to me,
+  Great mourning was there one fair summer eve,
+  Because the angels, bidden to receive
+  The fair Queen's lovely soul in Paradise,
+  Had done their bidding, and in royal guise
+  Her helpless body, once the prize of love,
+  Unable now for fear or hope to move,
+  Lay underneath the golden canopy;
+  And bowed down by unkingly misery
+  The King sat by it, and not far away,
+  Within the chamber a fair man-child lay,
+  His mother's bane, the king that was to be,
+  Not witting yet of any royalty,
+  Harmless and loved, although so new to life.
+
+    Calm the June evening was, no sign of strife
+  The clear sky showed, no storm grew round the sun,
+  Unhappy that his day of bliss was done;
+  Dumb was the sea, and if the beech-wood stirred,
+  'Twas with the nestling of the grey-winged bird
+  Midst its thick leaves; and though the nightingale
+  Her ancient, hapless sorrow must bewail,
+  No more of woe there seemed in her song
+  Than such as doth to lovers' words belong,
+  Because their love is still unsatisfied.
+    But to the King, on that sweet eventide,
+  No earth there seemed, no heaven when earth was gone;
+  No help, no God! but lonely pain alone;
+  And he, midst unreal shadows, seemed to sit
+  Himself the very heart and soul of it.
+  But round the cradle of the new-born child
+  The nurses now the weary time beguiled
+  With stories of the just departed Queen;
+  And how, amid the heathen folk first seen,
+  She had been won to love and godliness;
+  And as they spoke, e'en midst his dull distress,
+  An eager whisper now and then would smite
+  Upon the King's ear, of some past delight,
+  Some once familiar name, and he would raise
+  His weary head, and on the speaker gaze
+  Like one about to speak, but soon again
+  Would drop his head and be alone with pain,
+  Nor think of these; who, silent in their turn,
+  Would sit and watch the waxen tapers burn
+  Amidst the dusk of the quick-gathering night,
+  Until beneath the high stars' glimmering light,
+  The fresh earth lay in colourless repose.
+    So passed the night, and now and then one rose
+  From out her place to do what might avail
+  To still the new-born infant's fretful wail;
+  Or through the softly-opened door there came
+  Some nurse new waked, who, whispering low the name
+  Of her whose turn was come, would take her place;
+  Then toward the King would turn about her face
+  And to her fellows whisper of the day,
+  And tell again of her just past away.
+
+    So passed the night, the moon arose and grew,
+  From off the sea a little west-wind blew,
+  Rustling the garden-leaves like sudden rain;
+  And ere the moon had 'gun to fall again
+  The wind grew cold, a change was in the sky,
+  And in deep silence did the dawn draw nigh;
+  Then from her place a nurse arose to light
+  Fresh hallowed lights, for, dying with the night,
+  The tapers round about the dead Queen were;
+  But the King raised his head and 'gan to stare
+  Upon her, as her sweeping gown did glide
+  About the floor, that in the stillness cried
+  Beneath her careful feet; and now as she
+  Had lit the second candle carefully,
+  And on its silver spike another one
+  Was setting, through her body did there run
+  A sudden tremor, and the hand was stayed
+  That on the dainty painted wax was laid;
+  Her eyelids fell down and she seemed to sleep,
+  And o'er the staring King began to creep
+  Sweet slumber too; the bitter lines of woe
+  That drew his weary face did softer grow,
+  His eyelids dropped, his arms fell to his side;
+  And moveless in their places did abide
+  The nursing women, held by some strong spell,
+  E'en as they were, and utter silence fell
+  Upon the mournful, glimmering chamber fair.
+    But now light footsteps coming up the stair,
+  Smote on the deadly stillness, and the sound
+  Of silken dresses trailing o'er the ground;
+  And heavenly odours through the chamber passed,
+  Unlike the scents that rose and lily cast
+  Upon the freshness of the dying night;
+  Then nigher drew the sound of footsteps light
+  Until the door swung open noiselessly--
+  A mass of sunlit flowers there seemed to be
+  Within the doorway, and but pale and wan
+  The flame showed now that serveth mortal man,
+  As one by one six seeming ladies passed
+  Into the room, and o'er its sorrow cast
+  That thoughtless sense of joy bewildering,
+  That kisses youthful hearts amidst of spring;
+  Crowned were they, in such glorious raiment clad,
+  As yet no merchant of the world has had
+  Within his coffers; yet those crowns seemed fair
+  Only because they kissed their odorous hair,
+  And all that flowery raiment was but blessed
+  By those fair bodies that its splendour pressed.
+    Now to the cradle from that glorious band,
+  A woman passed, and laid a tender hand
+  Upon the babe, and gently drew aside
+  The swathings soft that did his body hide;
+  And, seeing him so fair and great, she smiled,
+  And stooped, and kissed him, saying, "O noble child,
+  Have thou a gift from Gloriande this day;
+  For to the time when life shall pass away
+  From this dear heart, no fear of death or shame,
+  No weariness of good shall foul thy name."
+    So saying, to her sisters she returned;
+  And one came forth, upon whose brow there burned
+  A crown of rubies, and whose heaving breast
+  With happy rings a golden hauberk pressed;
+  She took the babe, and somewhat frowning said,
+  "This gift I give, that till thy limbs are laid
+  At rest for ever, to thine honoured life
+  There never shall be lacking war and strife,
+  That thou a long-enduring name mayst win,
+  And by thy deeds, good pardon for thy sin."
+    With that another, who, unseen, meanwhile
+  Had drawn anigh, said with a joyous smile,
+  "And this forgotten gift to thee I give,
+  That while amidst the turmoil thou dost live,
+  Still shalt thou win the game, and unto thee
+  Defeat and shame but idle words shall be."
+    Then back they turned, and therewithal, the fourth
+  Said, "Take this gift for what it may be worth
+  For that is mine to give; lo, thou shalt be
+  Gentle of speech, and in all courtesy
+  The first of men: a little gift this is,
+  After these promises of fame and bliss."
+    Then toward the babe the fifth fair woman went;
+  Grey-eyed she was, and simple, with eyes bent
+  Down on the floor, parted her red lips were,
+  And o'er her sweet face marvellously fair
+  Oft would the colour spread full suddenly;
+  Clad in a dainty gown and thin was she,
+  For some green summer of the fay-land dight,
+  Tripping she went, and laid her fingers light
+  Upon the child, and said, "O little one,
+  As long as thou shalt look upon the sun
+  Shall women long for thee; take heed to this
+  And give them what thou canst of love and bliss."
+    Then, blushing for her words, therefrom she past,
+  And by the cradle stood the sixth and last,
+  The fairest of them all; awhile she gazed
+  Down on the child, and then her hand she raised,
+  And made the one side of her bosom bare;
+  "Ogier," she said, "if this be foul or fair
+  Thou know'st not now, but when thine earthly life
+  Is drunk out to the dregs, and war and strife
+  Have yielded thee whatever joy they may,
+  Thine head upon this bosom shalt thou lay;
+  And then, despite of knowledge or of God,
+  Will we be glad upon the flowery sod
+  Within the happy country where I dwell:
+  Ogier, my love that is to be, farewell!"
+
+    She turned, and even as they came they passed
+  From out the place, and reached the gate at last
+  That oped before their feet, and speedily
+  They gained the edges of the murmuring sea,
+  And as they stood in silence, gazing there
+  Out to the west, they vanished into air,
+  I know not how, nor whereto they returned.
+
+    But mixed with twilight in the chamber burned
+  The flickering candles, and those dreary folk,
+  Unlike to sleepers, from their trance awoke,
+  But nought of what had happed meanwhile they knew.
+  Through the half-opened casements now there blew
+  A sweet fresh air, that of the flowers and sea
+  Mingled together, smelt deliciously,
+  And from the unseen sun the spreading light
+  Began to make the fair June blossoms bright,
+  And midst their weary woe uprose the sun,
+  And thus has Ogier's noble life begun.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+  Hope is our life, when first our life grows clear;
+  Hope and delight, scarce crossed by lines of fear,
+  Yet the day comes when fain we would not hope,
+  But forasmuch as we with life must cope,
+  Struggling with this and that, and who knows why?
+  Hope will not give us up to certainty,
+  But still must bide with us: and with this man,
+  Whose life amid such promises began
+  Great things she wrought; but now the time has come
+  When he no more on earth may have his home.
+    Great things he suffered, great delights he had,
+  Unto great kings he gave good deeds for bad;
+  He ruled o'er kingdoms where his name no more
+  Is had in memory, and on many a shore
+  He left his sweat and blood to win a name
+  Passing the bounds of earthly creatures' fame.
+  A love he won and lost, a well-loved son
+  Whose little day of promise soon was done:
+  A tender wife he had, that he must leave
+  Before his heart her love could well receive;
+  Those promised gifts, that on his careless head
+  In those first hours of his fair life were shed
+  He took unwitting, and unwitting spent,
+  Nor gave himself to grief and discontent
+  Because he saw the end a-drawing nigh.
+    Where is he now? in what land must he die,
+  To leave an empty name to us on earth?
+  A tale half true, to cast across our mirth
+  Some pensive thoughts of life that might have been;
+  Where is he now, that all this life has seen?
+
+    Behold, another eve I bid you see
+  Than that calm eve of his nativity;
+  The sun is setting in the west, the sky
+  Is clear and hard, and no clouds come anigh
+  The golden orb, but further off they lie,
+  Steel-grey and black with edges red as blood,
+  And underneath them is the weltering flood
+  Of some huge sea, whose tumbling hills, as they
+  Turn restless sides about, are black or grey,
+  Or green, or glittering with the golden flame;
+  The wind has fallen now, but still the same
+  The mighty army moves, as if to drown
+  This lone, bare rock, whose shear scarped sides of brown
+  Cast off the weight of waves in clouds of spray.
+    Alas! what ships upon an evil day
+  Bent over to the wind in this ill sea?
+  What navy, whose rent bones lie wretchedly
+  Beneath these cliffs? a mighty one it was,
+  A fearful storm to bring such things to pass.
+
+    This is the loadstone rock; no armament
+  Of warring nations, in their madness bent
+  Their course this way; no merchant wittingly
+  Has steered his keel unto this luckless sea;
+  Upon no shipman's card its name is writ,
+  Though worn-out mariners will speak of it
+  Within the ingle on the winter's night,
+  When all within is warm and safe and bright,
+  And the wind howls without: but 'gainst their will
+  Are some folk driven here, and then all skill
+  Against this evil rock is vain and nought,
+  And unto death the shipmen soon are brought;
+  For then the keel, as by a giant's hand,
+  Is drawn unto that mockery of a land,
+  And presently unto its sides doth cleave;
+  When if they 'scape swift death, yet none may leave
+  The narrow limits of that barren isle,
+  And thus are slain by famine in a while
+  Mocked, as they say, by night with images
+  Of noble castles among groves of trees,
+  By day with sounds of merry minstrelsy.
+
+    The sun sinks now below this hopeless sea,
+  The clouds are gone, and all the sky is bright;
+  The moon is rising o'er the growing night,
+  And by its light may ye behold the bones
+  Of generations of these luckless ones
+  Scattered about the rock; but nigh the sea
+  Sits one alive, who uncomplainingly
+  Awaits his death. White-haired is he and old,
+  Arrayed in royal raiment, bright with gold,
+  But tarnished with the waves and rough salt air;
+  Huge is he, of a noble face and fair,
+  As for an ancient man, though toil and eld
+  Furrow the cheeks that ladies once beheld
+  With melting hearts--Nay, listen, for he speaks!
+    "God, thou hast made me strong! nigh seven weeks
+  Have passed since from the wreck we haled our store,
+  And five long days well told, have now passed o'er
+  Since my last fellow died, with my last bread
+  Between his teeth, and yet I am not dead.
+  Yea, but for this I had been strong enow
+  In some last bloody field my sword to show.
+  What matter? soon will all be past and done,
+  Where'er I died I must have died alone:
+  Yet, Caraheu, a good death had it been
+  Dying, thy face above me to have seen,
+  And heard my banner flapping in the wind,
+  Then, though my memory had not left thy mind,
+  Yet hope and fear would not have vexed thee more
+  When thou hadst known that everything was o'er;
+  But now thou waitest, still expecting me,
+  Whose sail shall never speck thy bright blue sea.
+    "And thou, Clarice, the merchants thou mayst call,
+  To tell thee tales within thy pictured hall,
+  But never shall they tell true tales of me:
+  Whatever sails the Kentish hills may see
+  Swept by the flood-tide toward thy well-walled town,
+  No more on my sails shall they look adown.
+    "Get thee another leader, Charlemaine,
+  For thou shalt look to see my shield in vain,
+  When in the fair fields of the Frankish land,
+  Thick as the corn they tread, the heathen stand.
+    "What matter? ye shall learn to live your lives;
+  Husbands and children, other friends and wives,
+  Shall wipe the tablets of your memory clean,
+  And all shall be as I had never been.
+
+    "And now, O God, am I alone with Thee;
+  A little thing indeed it seems to be
+  To give this life up, since it needs must go
+  Some time or other; now at last I know
+  How foolishly men play upon the earth,
+  When unto them a year of life seems worth
+  Honour and friends, and these vague hopes and sweet
+  That like real things my dying heart do greet,
+  Unreal while living on the earth I trod,
+  And but myself I knew no other god.
+  Behold, I thank Thee that Thou sweet'nest thus
+  This end, that I had thought most piteous,
+  If of another I had heard it told."
+
+    What man is this, who weak and worn and old,
+  Gives up his life within that dreadful isle,
+  And on the fearful coming death can smile?
+  Alas! this man, so battered and outworn,
+  Is none but he, who, on that summer morn,
+  Received such promises of glorious life:
+  Ogier the Dane this is, to whom all strife
+  Was but as wine to stir awhile the blood,
+  To whom all life, however hard, was good:
+  This is the man, unmatched of heart and limb,
+  Ogier the Dane, whose sight has waxed not dim
+  For all the years that he on earth has dwelt;
+  Ogier the Dane, that never fear has felt,
+  Since he knew good from ill; Ogier the Dane,
+  The heathen's dread, the evil-doer's bane.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+  Bright had the moon grown as his words were done,
+  And no more was there memory of the sun
+  Within the west, and he grew drowsy now,
+  And somewhat smoother was his wrinkled brow
+  As thought died out beneath the hand of sleep,
+  And o'er his soul forgetfulness did creep,
+  Hiding the image of swift-coming death;
+  Until as peacefully he drew his breath
+  As on that day, past for a hundred years,
+  When, midst the nurse's quickly-falling tears,
+  He fell asleep to his first lullaby.
+    The night changed as he slept, white clouds and high
+  Began about the lonely moon to close;
+  And from the dark west a new wind arose,
+  And with the sound of heavy-falling waves
+  Mingled its pipe about the loadstone caves;
+  But when the twinkling stars were hid away,
+  And a faint light and broad, like dawn of day,
+  The moon upon that dreary country shed,
+  Ogier awoke, and lifting up his head
+  And smiling, muttered, "Nay, no more again;
+  Rather some pleasure new, some other pain,
+  Unthought of both, some other form of strife;"
+  For he had waked from dreams of his old life,
+  And through St. Omer's archer-guarded gate
+  Once more had seemed to pass, and saw the state
+  Of that triumphant king; and still, though all
+  Seemed changed, and folk by other names did call
+  Faces he knew of old, yet none the less
+  He seemed the same, and, midst that mightiness,
+  Felt his own power, and grew the more athirst
+  For coming glory, as of old, when first
+  He stood before the face of Charlemaine,
+  A helpless hostage with all life to gain.
+    But now, awake, his worn face once more sank
+  Between his hands, and, murmuring not, he drank
+  The draught of death that must that thirst allay.
+
+    But while he sat and waited for the day
+  A sudden light across the bare rock streamed,
+  Which at the first he noted not, but deemed
+  The moon her fleecy veil had broken through;
+  But ruddier indeed this new light grew
+  Than were the moon's grey beams, and, therewithal,
+  Soft far-off music on his ears did fall;
+  Yet moved he not, but murmured, "This is death,
+  An easy thing like this to yield my breath,
+  Awake, yet dreaming, with no sounds of fear,
+  No dreadful sights to tell me it is near;
+  Yea, God, I thank Thee!" but with that last word
+  It seemed to him that he his own name heard
+  Whispered, as though the wind had borne it past;
+  With that he gat unto his feet at last,
+  But still awhile he stood, with sunken head,
+  And in a low and trembling voice he said,
+  "Lord, I am ready, whither shall I go?
+  I pray Thee unto me some token show."
+  And, as he said this, round about he turned,
+  And in the east beheld a light that burned
+  As bright as day; then, though his flesh might fear
+  The coming change that he believed so near,
+  Yet did his soul rejoice, for now he thought
+  Unto the very heaven to be brought:
+  And though he felt alive, deemed it might be
+  That he in sleep had died full easily.
+    Then toward that light did he begin to go,
+  And still those strains he heard, far off and low,
+  That grew no louder; still that bright light streamed
+  Over the rocks, yet nothing brighter seemed,
+  But like the light of some unseen bright flame
+  Shone round about, until at last he came
+  Unto the dreary islet's other shore,
+  And then the minstrelsy he heard no more,
+  And softer seemed the strange light unto him;
+  But yet or ever it had grown quite dim,
+  Beneath its waning light could he behold
+  A mighty palace set about with gold,
+  Above green meads and groves of summer trees
+  Far-off across the welter of the seas;
+  But, as he gazed, it faded from his sight,
+  And the grey hidden moon's diffused soft light,
+  Which soothly was but darkness to him now,
+  His sea-girt island prison did but show.
+    But o'er the sea he still gazed wistfully,
+  And said, "Alas! and when will this go by
+  And leave my soul in peace? must I still dream
+  Of life that once so dear a thing did seem,
+  That, when I wake, death may the bitterer be?
+  Here will I sit until he come to me,
+  And hide mine eyes and think upon my sin,
+  That so a little calm I yet may win
+  Before I stand within the awful place."
+    Then down he sat and covered up his face,
+  Yet therewithal his trouble could not hide,
+  Nor waiting thus for death could he abide,
+  For, though he knew it not, the yearning pain
+  Of hope of life had touched his soul again--
+  If he could live awhile, if he could live!
+  The mighty being, who once was wont to give
+  The gift of life to many a trembling man;
+  Who did his own will since his life began;
+  Who feared not aught, but strong and great and free
+  Still cast aside the thought of what might be;
+  Must all this then be lost, and with no will,
+  Powerless and blind, must he some fate fulfil,
+  Nor know what he is doing any more?
+
+    Soon he arose and paced along the shore,
+  And gazed out seaward for the blessed light;
+  But nought he saw except the old sad sight,
+  The ceaseless tumbling of the billows grey,
+  The white upspringing of the spurts of spray
+  Amidst that mass of timbers, the rent bones
+  Of the sea-houses of the hapless ones
+  Once cast like him upon this deadly isle.
+    He stopped his pacing in a little while,
+  And clenched his mighty hands, and set his teeth,
+  And gazing at the ruin underneath,
+  He swung from off the bare cliff's jagged brow,
+  And on some slippery ledge he wavered now,
+  Without a hand-hold, and now stoutly clung
+  With hands alone, and o'er the welter hung,
+  Not caring aught if thus his life should end;
+  But safely midst all this did he descend
+  The dreadful cliff, and since no beach was there,
+  But from the depths the rock rose stark and bare,
+  Nor crumbled aught beneath the hammering sea,
+  Upon the wrecks he stood unsteadily.
+
+    But now, amid the clamour of the waves,
+  And washing to-and-fro of beams and staves,
+  Dizzy with hunger, dreamy with distress,
+  And all those days of fear and loneliness,
+  The ocean's tumult seemed the battle's roar,
+  His heart grew hot, as when in days of yore
+  He heard the cymbals clash amid the crowd
+  Of dusky faces; now he shouted loud,
+  And from crushed beam to beam began to leap,
+  And yet his footing somehow did he keep
+  Amidst their tossing, and indeed the sea
+  Was somewhat sunk upon the island's lee.
+  So quickly on from wreck to wreck he passed,
+  And reached the outer line of wrecks at last,
+  And there a moment stood unsteadily,
+  Amid the drift of spray that hurried by,
+  And drew Courtain his sword from out its sheath,
+  And poised himself to meet the coming death,
+  Still looking out to sea; but as he gazed,
+  And once or twice his doubtful feet he raised
+  To take the final plunge, that heavenly strain
+  Over the washing waves he heard again,
+  And from the dimness something bright he saw
+  Across the waste of waters towards him draw;
+  And hidden now, now raised aloft, at last
+  Unto his very feet a boat was cast,
+  Gilded inside and out, and well arrayed
+  With cushions soft; far fitter to have weighed
+  From some sweet garden on the shallow Seine,
+  Or in a reach of green Thames to have lain,
+  Than struggle with that huge confusèd sea;
+  But Ogier gazed upon it doubtfully
+  One moment, and then, sheathing Courtain, said,
+  "What tales are these about the newly dead
+  The heathen told? what matter, let all pass;
+  This moment as one dead indeed I was,
+  And this must be what I have got to do,
+  I yet perchance may light on something new
+  Before I die; though yet perchance this keel
+  Unto the wondrous mass of charmed steel
+  Is drawn as others." With that word he leapt
+  Into the boat, and o'er the cushions crept
+  From stem to stern, but found no rudder there,
+  Nor any oars, nor were the cushions fair
+  Made wet by any dashing of the sea.
+    Now while he pondered how these things could be,
+  The boat began to move therefrom at last,
+  But over him a drowsiness was cast,
+  And as o'er tumbling hills the skiff did pass,
+  He clean forgot his death and where he was.
+
+    At last he woke up to a sunny day,
+  And, looking round, saw that his shallop lay
+  Moored at the edge of some fair tideless sea
+  Unto an overhanging thick-leaved tree,
+  Where in the green waves did the low bank dip
+  Its fresh and green grass-covered daisied lip;
+  But Ogier looking thence no more could see
+  That sad abode of death and misery,
+  Nor aught but wide and empty ocean, grey
+  With gathering haze, for now it neared midday;
+  Then from the golden cushions did he rise,
+  And wondering still if this were Paradise
+  He stepped ashore, but drew Courtain his sword
+  And muttered therewithal a holy word.
+    Fair was the place, as though amidst of May,
+  Nor did the brown birds fear the sunny day,
+  For with their quivering song the air was sweet;
+  Thick grew the field-flowers underneath his feet,
+  And on his head the blossoms down did rain,
+  Yet mid these fair things slowly and with pain
+  He 'gan to go, yea, even when his foot
+  First touched the flowery sod, to his heart's root
+  A coldness seemed to strike, and now each limb
+  Was growing stiff, his eyes waxed bleared and dim,
+  And all his stored-up memory 'gan to fail,
+  Nor yet would his once mighty heart avail
+  For lamentations o'er his changed lot;
+  Yet urged by some desire, he knew not what,
+  Along a little path 'twixt hedges sweet,
+  Drawn sword in hand, he dragged his faltering feet,
+  For what then seemed to him a weary way,
+  Whereon his steps he needs must often stay
+  And lean upon the mighty well-worn sword
+  That in those hands, grown old, for king or lord
+  Had small respect in glorious days long past.
+
+    But still he crept along, and at the last
+  Came to a gilded wicket, and through this
+  Entered a garden fit for utmost bliss,
+  If that might last which needs must soon go by:
+  There 'gainst a tree he leaned, and with a sigh
+  He said, "O God, a sinner I have been,
+  And good it is that I these things have seen
+  Before I meet what Thou hast set apart
+  To cleanse the earthly folly from my heart;
+  But who within this garden now can dwell
+  Wherein guilt first upon the world befell?"
+    A little further yet he staggered on,
+  Till to a fountain-side at last he won,
+  O'er which two white-thorns their sweet blossoms shed,
+  There he sank down, and laid his weary head
+  Beside the mossy roots, and in a while
+  He slept, and dreamed himself within the isle;
+  That splashing fount the weary sea did seem,
+  And in his dream the fair place but a dream;
+  But when again to feebleness he woke
+  Upon his ears that heavenly music broke,
+  Not faint or far as in the isle it was,
+  But e'en as though the minstrels now did pass
+  Anigh his resting-place; then fallen in doubt,
+  E'en as he might, he rose and gazed about,
+  Leaning against the hawthorn stem with pain;
+  And yet his straining gaze was but in vain,
+  Death stole so fast upon him, and no more
+  Could he behold the blossoms as before,
+  No more the trees seemed rooted to the ground,
+  A heavy mist seemed gathering all around,
+  And in its heart some bright thing seemed to be,
+  And round his head there breathed deliciously
+  Sweet odours, and that music never ceased.
+  But as the weight of Death's strong hand increased
+  Again he sank adown, and Courtain's noise
+  Within the scabbard seemed a farewell voice
+  Sent from the world he loved so well of old,
+  And all his life was as a story told,
+  And as he thought thereof he 'gan to smile
+  E'en as a child asleep, but in a while
+  It was as though he slept, and sleeping dreamed,
+  For in his half-closed eyes a glory gleamed,
+  As though from some sweet face and golden hair,
+  And on his breast were laid soft hands and fair,
+  And a sweet voice was ringing in his ears,
+  Broken as if with flow of joyous tears;
+    "Ogier, sweet friend, hast thou not tarried long?
+  Alas! thine hundred years of strife and wrong!"
+  Then he found voice to say, "Alas! dear Lord,
+  Too long, too long; and yet one little word
+  Right many a year agone had brought me here."
+  Then to his face that face was drawn anear,
+  He felt his head raised up and gently laid
+  On some kind knee, again the sweet voice said,
+  "Nay, Ogier, nay, not yet, not yet, dear friend!
+  Who knoweth when our linked life shall end,
+  Since thou art come unto mine arms at last,
+  And all the turmoil of the world is past?
+  Why do I linger ere I see thy face
+  As I desired it in that mourning place
+  So many years ago--so many years,
+  Thou knewest not thy love and all her fears?"
+    "Alas!" he said, "what mockery is this
+  That thou wilt speak to me of earthly bliss?
+  No longer can I think upon the earth,
+  Have I not done with all its grief and mirth?
+  Yes, I was Ogier once, but if my love
+  Should come once more my dying heart to move,
+  Then must she come from 'neath the milk-white walls
+  Whereon to-day the hawthorn blossom falls
+  Outside St. Omer's--art thou she? her name
+  I could remember once mid death and fame
+  Is clean forgotten now; but yesterday,
+  Meseems, our son, upon her bosom lay:
+  Baldwin the fair--what hast thou done with him
+  Since Charlot slew him? Ah, mine eyes wax dim;
+  Woman, forbear! wilt thou not let me die?
+  Did I forget thee in the days gone by?
+  Then let me die, that we may meet again!"
+
+    He tried to move from her, but all in vain,
+  For life had well-nigh left him, but withal
+  He felt a kiss upon his forehead fall,
+  And could not speak; he felt slim fingers fair
+  Move to his mighty sword-worn hand, and there
+  Set on some ring, and still he could not speak,
+  And once more sleep weighed down his eyelids weak.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+  But, ah! what land was this he woke unto?
+  What joy was this that filled his heart anew?
+  Had he then gained the very Paradise?
+  Trembling, he durst not at the first arise,
+  Although no more he felt the pain of eld,
+  Nor durst he raise his eyes that now beheld
+  Beside him the white flowers and blades of grass;
+  He durst not speak, lest he some monster was.
+    But while he lay and hoped, that gentle voice
+  Once more he heard; "Yea, thou mayst well rejoice!
+  Thou livest still, my sweet, thou livest still,
+  Apart from every earthly fear and ill;
+  Wilt thou not love me, who have wrought thee this,
+  That I like thee may live in double bliss?"
+    Then Ogier rose up, nowise like to one
+  Whose span of earthly life is nigh outrun,
+  But as he might have risen in old days
+  To see the spears cleave the fresh morning haze;
+  But, looking round, he saw no change there was
+  In the fair place wherethrough he first did pass,
+  Though all, grown clear and joyous to his eyes,
+  Now looked no worse than very Paradise;
+  Behind him were the thorns, the fountain fair
+  Still sent its glittering stream forth into air,
+  And by its basin a fair woman stood,
+  And as their eyes met his renewèd blood
+  Rushed to his face; with unused thoughts and sweet
+  And hurrying hopes, his heart began to beat.
+    The fairest of all creatures did she seem;
+  So fresh and delicate you well might deem
+  That scarce for eighteen summers had she blessed
+  The happy, longing world; yet, for the rest,
+  Within her glorious eyes such wisdom dwelt
+  A child before her had the wise man felt,
+  And with the pleasure of a thousand years
+  Her lips were fashioned to move joy or tears
+  Among the longing folk where she might dwell,
+  To give at last the kiss unspeakable.
+    In such wise was she clad as folk may be,
+  Who, for no shame of their humanity,
+  For no sad changes of the imperfect year,
+  Rather for added beauty, raiment wear;
+  For, as the heat-foretelling grey-blue haze
+  Veils the green flowery morn of late May-days,
+  Her raiment veiled her; where the bands did meet
+  That bound the sandals to her dainty feet,
+  Gems gleamed; a fresh rose-wreath embraced her head,
+  And on her breast there lay a ruby red.
+    So with a supplicating look she turned
+  To meet the flame that in his own eyes burned,
+  And held out both her white arms lovingly,
+  As though to greet him as he drew anigh.
+  Stammering he said, "Who art thou? how am I
+  So cured of all my evils suddenly,
+  That certainly I felt no mightier, when,
+  Amid the backward rush of beaten men,
+  About me drooped the axe-torn Oriflamme?
+  Alas! I fear that in some dream I am."
+    "Ogier," she said, "draw near, perchance it is
+  That such a name God gives unto our bliss;
+  I know not, but if thou art such an one
+  As I must deem, all days beneath the sun
+  That thou hast had, shall be but dreams indeed
+  To those that I have given thee at thy need.
+  For many years ago beside the sea
+  When thou wert born, I plighted troth with thee:
+  Come near then, and make mirrors of mine eyes,
+  That thou mayest see what these my mysteries
+  Have wrought in thee; surely but thirty years,
+  Passed amidst joy, thy new born body bears,
+  Nor while thou art with me, and on this shore
+  Art still full-fed of love, shalt thou seem more.
+  Nay, love, come nigher, and let me take thine hand,
+  The hope and fear of many a warring land,
+  And I will show thee wherein lies the spell,
+  Whereby this happy change upon thee fell."
+
+    Like a shy youth before some royal love,
+  Close up to that fair woman did he move,
+  And their hands met; yet to his changed voice
+  He dared not trust; nay, scarcely could rejoice
+  E'en when her balmy breath he 'gan to feel,
+  And felt strange sweetness o'er his spirit steal
+  As her light raiment, driven by the wind,
+  Swept round him, and, bewildered and half-blind,
+  His lips the treasure of her lips did press,
+  And round him clung her perfect loveliness.
+    For one sweet moment thus they stood, and then
+  She drew herself from out his arms again,
+  And panting, lovelier for her love, did stand
+  Apart awhile, then took her lover's hand,
+  And, in a trembling voice, made haste to say,--
+    "O Ogier, when thou earnest here to-day,
+  I feared indeed, that in my sport with fate,
+  I might have seen thee e'en one day too late,
+  Before this ring thy finger should embrace;
+  Behold it, love, and thy keen eyes may trace
+  Faint figures wrought upon the ruddy gold;
+  My father dying gave it me, nor told
+  The manner of its making, but I know
+  That it can make thee e'en as thou art now
+  Despite the laws of God--shrink not from me
+  Because I give an impious gift to thee--
+  Has not God made me also, who do this?
+  But I, who longed to share with thee my bliss,
+  Am of the fays, and live their changeless life,
+  And, like the gods of old, I see the strife
+  That moves the world, unmoved if so I will;
+  For we the fruit, that teaches good and ill,
+  Have never touched like you of Adam's race;
+  And while thou dwellest with me in this place
+  Thus shalt thou be--ah, and thou deem'st, indeed,
+  That thou shalt gain thereby no happy meed
+  Reft of the world's joys? nor canst understand
+  How thou art come into a happy land?--
+  Love, in thy world the priests of heaven still sing,
+  And tell thee of it many a joyous thing;
+  But think'st thou, bearing the world's joy and pain,
+  Thou couldst live there? nay, nay, but born again
+  Thus wouldst be happy with the angels' bliss;
+  And so with us no otherwise it is,
+  Nor hast thou cast thine old life quite away
+  Even as yet, though that shall be to-day.
+    "But for the love and country thou hast won,
+  Know thou, that thou art come to Avallon,
+  That is both thine and mine; and as for me,
+  Morgan le Fay men call me commonly
+  Within the world, but fairer names than this
+  I have for thee and me, 'twixt kiss and kiss."
+
+    Ah, what was this? and was it all in vain,
+  That she had brought him here this life to gain?
+  For, ere her speech was done, like one turned blind
+  He watched the kisses of the wandering wind
+  Within her raiment, or as some one sees
+  The very best of well-wrought images
+  When he is blind with grief, did he behold
+  The wandering tresses of her locks of gold
+  Upon her shoulders; and no more he pressed
+  The hand that in his own hand lay at rest:
+  His eyes, grown dull with changing memories,
+  Could make no answer to her glorious eyes:
+  Cold waxed his heart, and weary and distraught,
+  With many a cast-by, hateful, dreary thought,
+  Unfinished in the old days; and withal
+  He needs must think of what might chance to fall
+  In this life new-begun; and good and bad
+  Tormented him, because as yet he had
+  A worldly heart within his frame made new,
+  And to the deeds that he was wont to do
+  Did his desires still turn. But she a while
+  Stood gazing at him with a doubtful smile,
+  And let his hand fall down; but suddenly
+  Sounded sweet music from some close nearby,
+  And then she spoke again: "Come, love, with me,
+  That thou thy new life and delights mayst see."
+  And gently with that word she led him thence,
+  And though upon him now there fell a sense
+  Of dreamy and unreal bewilderment,
+  As hand in hand through that green place they went,
+  Yet therewithal a strain of tender love
+  A little yet his restless heart did move.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+    So through the whispering trees they came at last
+  To where a wondrous house a shadow cast
+  Across the flowers, and o'er the daisied grass
+  Before it, crowds of lovely folk did pass,
+  Playing about in carelessness and mirth,
+  Unshadowed by the doubtful deeds of earth;
+  And from the midst a band of fair girls came,
+  With flowers and music, greeting him by name,
+  And praising him; but ever like a dream
+  He could not break, did all to Ogier seem,
+  And he his old world did the more desire,
+  For in his heart still burned unquenched the fire,
+  That through the world of old so bright did burn:
+  Yet was he fain that kindness to return,
+  And from the depth of his full heart he sighed.
+    Then toward the house the lovely Queen did guide
+  His listless steps, and seemed to take no thought
+  Of knitted brow or wandering eyes distraught,
+  But still with kind love lighting up her face
+  She led him through the door of that fair place,
+  While round about them did the damsels press;
+  And he was moved by all that loveliness
+  As one might be, who, lying half asleep
+  In the May morning, notes the light wind sweep
+  Over the tulip-beds: no more to him
+  Were gleaming eyes, red lips, and bodies slim,
+  Amidst that dream, although the first surprise
+  Of hurried love wherewith the Queen's sweet eyes
+  Had smitten him, still in his heart did stir.
+
+    And so at last he came, led on by her
+  Into a hall wherein a fair throne was,
+  And hand in hand thereto the twain did pass;
+  And there she bade him sit, and when alone
+  He took his place upon the double throne,
+  She cast herself before him on her knees,
+  Embracing his, and greatly did increase
+  The shame and love that vexed his troubled heart:
+  But now a line of girls the crowd did part,
+  Lovelier than all, and Ogier could behold
+  One in their midst who bore a crown of gold
+  Within her slender hands and delicate;
+  She, drawing nigh, beside the throne did wait
+  Until the Queen arose and took the crown,
+  Who then to Ogier's lips did stoop adown
+  And kissed him, and said, "Ogier, what were worth
+  Thy miserable days of strife on earth,
+  That on their ashes still thine eyes are turned?"
+    Then, as she spoke these words, his changed heart burned
+  With sudden memories, and thereto had he
+  Made answer, but she raised up suddenly
+  The crown she held and set it on his head,
+  "Ogier," she cried, "those troublous days are dead;
+  Thou wert dead with them also, but for me;
+  Turn unto her who wrought these things for thee!"
+    Then, as he felt her touch, a mighty wave
+  Of love swept o'er his soul, as though the grave
+  Did really hold his body; from his seat
+  He rose to cast himself before her feet;
+  But she clung round him, and in close embrace
+  The twain were locked amidst that thronging place.
+
+    Thenceforth new life indeed has Ogier won,
+  And in the happy land of Avallon
+  Quick glide the years o'er his unchanging head;
+  There saw he many men the world thought dead,
+  Living like him in sweet forgetfulness
+  Of all the troubles that did once oppress
+  Their vainly-struggling lives--ah, how can I
+  Tell of their joy as though I had been nigh?
+  Suffice it that no fear of death they knew,
+  That there no talk there was of false or true,
+  Of right or wrong, for traitors came not there;
+  That everything was bright and soft and fair,
+  And yet they wearied not for any change,
+  Nor unto them did constancy seem strange.
+  Love knew they, but its pain they never had,
+  But with each other's joy were they made glad;
+  Nor were their lives wasted by hidden fire,
+  Nor knew they of the unfulfilled desire
+  That turns to ashes all the joys of earth,
+  Nor knew they yearning love amidst the dearth
+  Of kind and loving hearts to spend it on,
+  Nor dreamed or discontent when all was won;
+  Nor need they struggle after wealth and fame;
+  Still was the calm flow of their lives the same,
+  And yet, I say, they wearied not of it--
+  So did the promised days by Ogier flit.
+
+    Think that a hundred years have now passed by,
+  Since ye beheld Ogier lie down to die
+  Beside the fountain; think that now ye are
+  In France, made dangerous with wasting war;
+  In Paris, where about each guarded gate,
+  Gathered in knots, the anxious people wait,
+  And press around each new-come man to learn
+  If Harfleur now the pagan wasters burn,
+  Or if the Rouen folk can keep their chain,
+  Or Pont de l'Arche unburnt still guards the Seine?
+  Or if 'tis true that Andelys succour wants?
+  That Vernon's folk are fleeing east to Mantes?
+  When will they come? or rather is it true
+  That a great band the Constable o'erthrew
+  Upon the marshes of the lower Seine,
+  And that their long ships, turning back again,
+  Caught by the high-raised waters of the bore
+  Were driven here and there and cast ashore?
+    Such questions did they ask, and, as fresh men
+  Came hurrying in, they asked them o'er again,
+  And from scared folk, or fools, or ignorant,
+  Still got new lies, or tidings very scant.
+
+    But now amidst these men at last came one,
+  A little ere the setting of the sun,
+  With two stout men behind him, armed right well,
+  Who ever as they rode on, sooth to tell,
+  With doubtful eyes upon their master stared,
+  Or looked about like troubled men and scared.
+  And he they served was noteworthy indeed;
+  Of ancient fashion were his arms and weed,
+  Rich past the wont of men in those sad times;
+  His face was bronzed, as though by burning climes,
+  But lovely as the image of a god
+  Carved in the days before on earth Christ trod;
+  But solemn were his eyes, and grey as glass,
+  And like to ruddy gold his fine hair was:
+  A mighty man he was, and taller far
+  Than those who on that day must bear the war
+  The pagans waged: he by the warders stayed
+  Scarce looked on them, but straight their words obeyed
+  And showed his pass; then, asked about his name
+  And from what city of the world he came,
+  Said, that men called him now the Ancient Knight,
+  That he was come midst the king's men to fight
+  From St. Omer's; and as he spoke, he gazed
+  Down on the thronging street as one amazed,
+  And answered no more to the questioning
+  Of frightened folk of this or that sad thing;
+  But, ere he passed on, turned about at last
+  And on the wondering guard a strange look cast,
+  And said, "St. Mary! do such men as ye
+  Fight with the wasters from across the sea?
+  Then, certes, are ye lost, however good
+  Your hearts may be; not such were those who stood
+  Beside the Hammer-bearer years agone."
+    So said he, and as his fair armour shone
+  With beauty of a time long passed away,
+  So with the music of another day
+  His deep voice thrilled the awe-struck, listening folk.
+
+    Yet from the crowd a mocking voice outbroke,
+  That cried, "Be merry, masters, fear ye nought,
+  Surely good succour to our side is brought;
+  For here is Charlemaine come off his tomb
+  To save his faithful city from its doom."
+    "Yea," said another, "this is certain news,
+  Surely ye know how all the carvers use
+  To carve the dead man's image at the best,
+  That guards the place where he may lie at rest;
+  Wherefore this living image looks indeed,
+  Spite of his ancient tongue and marvellous weed,
+  To have but thirty summers."
+                                  At the name
+  Of Charlemaine, he turned to whence there came
+  The mocking voice, and somewhat knit his brow,
+  And seemed as he would speak, but scarce knew how;
+  So with a half-sigh soon sank back again
+  Into his dream, and shook his well-wrought rein,
+  And silently went on upon his way.
+
+    And this was Ogier: on what evil day
+  Has he then stumbled, that he needs must come,
+  Midst war and ravage, to the ancient home
+  Of his desires? did he grow weary then,
+  And wish to strive once more with foolish men
+  For worthless things? or is fair Avallon
+  Sunk in the sea, and all that glory gone?
+    Nay, thus it happed--One day she came to him
+  And said, "Ogier, thy name is waxen dim
+  Upon the world that thou rememberest not;
+  The heathen men are thick on many a spot
+  Thine eyes have seen, and which I love therefore;
+  And God will give His wonted help no more.
+  Wilt thou, then, help? canst thou have any mind
+  To give thy banner once more to the wind?
+  Since greater glory thou shalt win for this
+  Than erst thou gatheredst ere thou cam'st to bliss:
+  For men are dwindled both in heart and frame,
+  Nor holds the fair land any such a name
+  As thine, when thou wert living midst thy peers:
+  The world is worser for these hundred years."
+    From his calm eyes there gleamed a little fire,
+  And in his voice was something of desire,
+  To see the land where he was used to be,
+  As now he answered: "Nay, choose thou for me,
+  Thou art the wisest; it is more than well
+  Within this peaceful place with thee to dwell:
+  Nor ill perchance in that old land to die,
+  If, dying, I keep not the memory
+  Of this fair life of ours." "Nay, nay," said she,
+  "As to thy dying, that shall never be,
+  Whiles that thou keep'st my ring--and now, behold,
+  I take from thee thy charmed crown of gold,
+  And thou wilt be the Ogier that thou wast
+  Ere on the loadstone rock thy ship was cast:
+  Yet thou shalt have thy youthful body still,
+  And I will guard thy life from every ill."
+
+    So was it done, and Ogier, armed right well,
+  Sleeping, was borne away by some strong spell,
+  And set upon the Flemish coast; and thence
+  Turned to St. Omer's, with a doubtful sense
+  Of being in some wild dream, the while he knew
+  That great delight forgotten was his due,
+  That all which there might hap was of small worth.
+    So on he went, and sometimes unto mirth
+  Did his attire move the country-folk,
+  But oftener when strange speeches from him broke
+  Concerning men and things for long years dead,
+  He filled the listeners with great awe and dread;
+  For in such wild times as these people were
+  Are men soon moved to wonder and to fear.
+
+    Now through the streets of Paris did he ride,
+  And at a certain hostel did abide
+  Throughout that night, and ere he went next day
+  He saw a book that on a table lay,
+  And opening it 'gan read in lazy mood:
+  But long before it in that place he stood,
+  Noting nought else; for it did chronicle
+  The deeds of men of old he knew right well,
+  When they were living in the flesh with him:
+  Yea, his own deeds he saw, grown strange and dim
+  Already, and true stories mixed with lies,
+  Until, with many thronging memories
+  Of those old days, his heart was so oppressed,
+  He 'gan to wish that he might lie at rest,
+  Forgetting all things: for indeed by this
+  Little remembrance had he of the bliss
+  That wrapped his soul in peaceful Avallon.
+
+    But his changed life he needs must carry on;
+  For ye shall know the Queen was gathering men
+  To send unto the good King, who as then
+  In Rouen lay, beset by many a band
+  Of those who carried terror through the land,
+  And still by messengers for help he prayed:
+  Therefore a mighty muster was being made,
+  Of weak and strong, and brave and timorous,
+  Before the Queen anigh her royal house.
+  So thither on this morn did Ogier turn,
+  Some certain news about the war to learn;
+  And when he came at last into the square,
+  And saw the ancient palace great and fair
+  Rise up before him as in other days,
+  And in the merry morn the bright sun's rays
+  Glittering on gathering helms and moving spears,
+  He 'gan to feel as in the long-past years,
+  And his heart stirred within him. Now the Queen
+  Came from within, right royally beseen,
+  And took her seat beneath a canopy,
+  With lords and captains of the war anigh;
+  And as she came a mighty shout arose,
+  And round about began the knights to close,
+  Their oath of fealty there to swear anew,
+  And learn what service they had got to do.
+  But so it was, that some their shouts must stay
+  To gaze at Ogier as he took his way
+  Through the thronged place; and quickly too he gat
+  Unto the place whereas the Lady sat,
+  For men gave place unto him, fearing him:
+  For not alone was he most huge of limb,
+  And dangerous, but something in his face,
+  As his calm eyes looked o'er the crowded place,
+  Struck men with awe; and in the ancient days,
+  When men might hope alive on gods to gaze,
+  They would have thought, "The gods yet love our town
+  And from the heavens have sent a great one down."
+    Withal unto the throne he came so near,
+  That he the Queen's sweet measured voice could hear;
+  And swiftly now within him wrought the change
+  That first he felt amid those faces strange;
+  And his heart burned to taste the hurrying life
+  With such desires, such changing sweetness rife.
+  And yet, indeed, how should he live alone,
+  Who in the old past days such friends had known?
+  Then he began to think of Caraheu,
+  Of Bellicent the fair, and once more knew
+  The bitter pain of rent and ended love.
+  But while with hope and vain regret he strove,
+  He found none 'twixt him and the Queen's high seat,
+  And, stepping forth, he knelt before her feet
+  And took her hand to swear, as was the way
+  Of doing fealty in that ancient day,
+  And raised his eyes to hers; as fair was she
+  As any woman of the world might be
+  Full-limbed and tall, dark haired, from her deep eyes,
+  The snare of fools, the ruin of the wise,
+  Love looked unchecked; and now her dainty hand,
+  The well-knit holder of the golden wand,
+  Trembled in his, she cast her eyes adown,
+  And her sweet brow was knitted to a frown,
+  As he, the taker of such oaths of yore,
+  Now unto her all due obedience swore,
+  Yet gave himself no name; and now the Queen,
+  Awed by his voice as other folk had been,
+  Yet felt a trembling hope within her rise
+  Too sweet to think of, and with love's surprise
+  Her cheek grew pale; she said, "Thy style and name
+  Thou tellest not, nor what land of thy fame
+  Is glad; for, certes, some land must be glad,
+  That in its bounds her house thy mother had."
+    "Lady," he said, "from what far land I come
+  I well might tell thee, but another home
+  Have I long dwelt in, and its name have I
+  Forgotten now, forgotten utterly
+  Who were my fellows, and what deeds they did;
+  Therefore, indeed, shall my first name be hid
+  And my first country; call me on this day
+  The Ancient Knight, and let me go my way."
+  He rose withal, for she her fingers fair
+  Had drawn aback, and on him 'gan to stare
+  As one afeard; for something terrible
+  Was in his speech, and that she knew right well,
+  Who 'gan to love him, and to fear that she,
+  Shut out by some strange deadly mystery,
+  Should never gain from him an equal love;
+  Yet, as from her high seat he 'gan to move,
+  She said, "O Ancient Knight, come presently,
+  When we have done this muster, unto me,
+  And thou shalt have thy charge and due command
+  For freeing from our foes this wretched land!"
+    Then Ogier made his reverence and went,
+  And somewhat could perceive of her intent;
+  For in his heart life grew, and love with life
+  Grew, and therewith, 'twixt love and fame, was strife.
+    But, as he slowly gat him from the square,
+  Gazing at all the people gathered there,
+  A squire of the Queen's behind him came,
+  And breathless, called him by his new-coined name,
+  And bade him turn because the Queen now bade,
+  Since by the muster long she might be stayed,
+  That to the palace he should bring him straight,
+  Midst sport and play her coming back to wait;
+  Then Ogier turned, nought loath, and with him went,
+  And to a postern-gate his steps he bent,
+  That Ogier knew right well in days of old;
+  Worn was it now, and the bright hues and gold
+  Upon the shields above, with lapse of days,
+  Were faded much: but now did Ogier gaze
+  Upon the garden where he walked of yore,
+  Holding the hands that he should see no more;
+  For all was changed except the palace fair,
+  That Charlemaine's own eyes had seen built there
+  Ere Ogier knew him; there the squire did lead
+  The Ancient Knight, who still took little heed
+  Of all the things that by the way he said,
+  For all his thoughts were on the days long dead.
+    There in the painted hall he sat again,
+  And 'neath the pictured eyes of Charlemaine
+  He ate and drank, and felt it like a dream;
+  And midst his growing longings yet might deem
+  That he from sleep should wake up presently
+  In some fair city on the Syrian sea,
+  Or on the brown rocks of the loadstone isle.
+  But fain to be alone, within a while
+  He gat him to the garden, and there passed
+  By wondering squires and damsels, till at last,
+  Far from the merry folk who needs must play,
+  If on the world were coming its last day,
+  He sat him down, and through his mind there ran
+  Faint thoughts of that day, when, outworn and wan,
+  He lay down by the fountain-side to die.
+  But when he strove to gain clear memory
+  Of what had happed since on the isle he lay
+  Waiting for death, a hopeless castaway,
+  Thought failing him, would rather bring again
+  His life among the peers of Charlemaine,
+  And vex his soul with hapless memories;
+  Until at last, worn out by thought of these,
+  And hopeless striving to find what was true,
+  And pondering on the deeds he had to do
+  Ere he returned, whereto he could not tell,
+  Sweet sleep upon his wearied spirit fell.
+  And on the afternoon of that fair day,
+  Forgetting all, beneath the trees he lay.
+
+    Meanwhile the Queen, affairs of state being done,
+  Went through the gardens with one dame alone
+  Seeking for Ogier, whom at last she found
+  Laid sleeping on the daisy-sprinkled ground,
+  Dreaming, I know not what, of other days.
+  Then on him for a while the Queen did gaze,
+  Drawing sweet poison from the lovely sight,
+  Then to her fellow turned, "The ancient Knight--
+  What means he by this word of his?" she said;
+  "He were well mated with some lovely maid
+  Just pondering on the late-heard name of love."
+    "Softly, my lady, he begins to move,"
+  Her fellow said, a woman old and grey;
+  "Look now, his arms are of another day;
+  None know him or his deeds; thy squire just said
+  He asked about the state of men long dead;
+  I fear what he may be; look, seest thou not
+  That ring that on one finger he has got,
+  Where figures strange upon the gold are wrought:
+  God grant that he from hell has not been brought
+  For our confusion, in this doleful war,
+  Who surely in enough of trouble are
+  Without such help;" then the Queen turned aside
+  Awhile, her drawn and troubled face to hide,
+  For lurking dread this speech within her stirred;
+  But yet she said, "Thou sayest a foolish word,
+  This man is come against our enemies
+  To fight for us." Then down upon her knees
+  Fell the old woman by the sleeping knight,
+  And from his hand she drew with fingers light
+  The wondrous ring, and scarce again could rise
+  Ere 'neath the trembling Queen's bewildered eyes
+  The change began; his golden hair turned white,
+  His smooth cheek wrinkled, and his breathing light
+  Was turned to troublous struggling for his breath,
+  And on his shrunk lips lay the hand of death;
+  And, scarce less pale than he, the trembling Queen
+  Stood thinking on the beauty she had seen
+  And longed for but a little while ago,
+  Yet with her terror still her love did grow,
+  And she began to weep as though she saw
+  Her beauty e'en to such an ending draw.
+  And 'neath her tears waking he oped his eyes,
+  And strove to speak, but nought but gasping sighs
+  His lips could utter; then he tried to reach
+  His hand to them, as though he would beseech
+  The gift of what was his: but all the while
+  The crone gazed on them with an evil smile,
+  Then holding toward the Queen that wondrous ring,
+  She said, "Why weep'st thou? having this fair thing,
+  Thou, losing nought the beauty that thou hast,
+  May'st watch the vainly struggling world go past,
+  Thyself unchanged." The Queen put forth her hand
+  And took the ring, and there awhile did stand
+  And strove to think of it, but still in her
+  Such all-absorbing longings love did stir,
+  So young she was, of death she could not think,
+  Or what a cup eld gives to man to drink;
+  Yet on her finger had she set the ring
+  When now the life that hitherto did cling
+  To Ogier's heart seemed fading quite away,
+  And scarcely breathing with shut eyes he lay.
+  Then, kneeling down, she murmured piteously,
+  "Ah, wilt thou love me if I give it thee,
+  And thou grow'st young again? what should I do
+  If with the eyes thou thus shalt gain anew
+  Thou shouldst look scorn on me?" But with that word
+  The hedge behind her, by the west wind stirred,
+  Cast fear into her heart of some one nigh,
+  And therewith on his finger hastily
+  She set the ring, then rose and stood apart
+  A little way, and in her doubtful heart
+  With love and fear was mixed desire of life.
+    But standing so, a look with great scorn rife
+  The elder woman, turning, cast on her,
+  Pointing to Ogier, who began to stir;
+  She looked, and all she erst saw now did seem
+  To have been nothing but a hideous dream,
+  As fair and young he rose from off the ground
+  And cast a dazed and puzzled look around,
+  Like one just waked from sleep in some strange place;
+  But soon his grave eyes rested on her face,
+  And turned yet graver seeing her so pale,
+  And that her eyes were pregnant with some tale
+  Of love and fear; she 'neath his eyes the while
+  Forced her pale lips to semblance of a smile,
+  And said, "O Ancient Knight, thou sleepest then?
+  While through this poor land range the heathen men,
+  Unmet of any but my King and Lord:
+  Nay, let us see the deeds of thine old sword."
+    "Queen," said he, "bid me then unto this work,
+  And certes I behind no wall would lurk,
+  Nor send for succour, while a scanty folk
+  Still followed after me to break the yoke:
+  I pray thee grace for sleeping, and were fain
+  That I might rather never sleep again
+  Than have such wretched dreams as I e'en now
+  Have waked from."
+                    Lovelier she seemed to grow
+  Unto him as he spoke; fresh colour came
+  Into her face, as though for some sweet shame,
+  While she with tearful eyes beheld him so,
+  That somewhat even must his burnt cheek glow,
+  His heart beat faster. But again she said,
+  "Nay, will dreams burden such a mighty head?
+  Then may I too have pardon for a dream:
+  Last night in sleep I saw thee, who didst seem
+  To be the King of France; and thou and I
+  Were sitting at some great festivity
+  Within the many-peopled gold-hung place."
+    The blush of shame was gone as on his face
+  She gazed, and saw him read her meaning clear
+  And knew that no cold words she had to fear,
+  But rather that for softer speech he yearned.
+  Therefore, with love alone her smooth cheek burned;
+  Her parted lips were hungry for his kiss,
+  She trembled at the near approaching bliss;
+    Nathless, she checked her love a little while,
+  Because she felt the old dame's curious smile
+  Upon her, and she said, "O Ancient Knight,
+  If I then read my last night's dream aright,
+  Thou art come here our very help to be,
+  Perchance to give my husband back to me;
+  Come then, if thou this land art fain to save,
+  And show the wisdom thou must surely have
+  Unto my council; I will give thee then
+  What charge I may among my valiant men;
+  And certes thou wilt do so well herein,
+  That, ere long, something greater shalt thou win:
+  Come, then, deliverer of my throne and land,
+  And let me touch for once thy mighty hand
+  With these weak fingers."
+                             As she spoke, she met
+  His eager hand, and all things did forget
+  But for one moment, for too wise were they
+  To cast the coming years of joy away;
+  Then with her other hand her gown she raised
+  And led him thence, and o'er her shoulder gazed
+  At her old follower with a doubtful smile,
+  As though to say, "Be wise, I know thy guile!"
+    But slowly she behind the lovers walked,
+  Muttering, "So be it! thou shalt not be balked
+  Of thy desire; be merry! I am wise,
+  Nor will I rob thee of thy Paradise
+  For any other than myself; and thou
+  May'st even happen to have had enow
+  Of this new love, before I get the ring,
+  And I may work for thee no evil thing."
+
+    Now ye shall know that the old chronicle,
+  Wherein I read all this, doth duly tell
+  Of all the gallant deeds that Ogier did,
+  There may ye read them; nor let me be chid
+  If I therefore say little of these things,
+  Because the thought of Avallon still clings
+  Unto my heart, and scarcely can I bear
+  To think of that long, dragging useless year,
+  Through which, with dulled and glimmering memory,
+  Ogier was grown content to live and die
+  Like other men; but this I have to say,
+  That in the council chamber on that day
+  The Old Knight showed his wisdom well enow,
+  While fainter still with love the Queen did grow
+  Hearing his words, beholding his grey eyes
+  Flashing with fire of warlike memories;
+  Yea, at the last he seemed so wise indeed
+  That she could give him now the charge, to lead
+  One wing of the great army that set out
+  From Paris' gates, midst many a wavering shout
+  Midst trembling prayers, and unchecked wails and tears,
+  And slender hopes and unresisted fears.
+
+    Now ere he went, upon his bed he lay,
+  Newly awakened at the dawn of day,
+  Gathering perplexed thoughts of many a thing,
+  When, midst the carol that the birds did sing
+  Unto the coming of the hopeful sun,
+  He heard a sudden lovesome song begun
+  'Twixt two young voices in the garden green,
+  That seemed indeed the farewell of the Queen.
+
+
+  SONG.
+
+  HÆC.
+
+
+    _In the white-flowered hawthorn brake,
+  Love, be merry for my sake;
+  Twine the blossoms in my hair,
+  Kiss me where I am most fair--
+  Kiss me, love! for who knoweth
+  What thing cometh after death?_
+
+  ILLE.
+
+    _Nay, the garlanded gold hair
+  Hides thee where thou art most fair;_
+  _Hides the rose-tinged hills of snow--
+  Ah, sweet love, I have thee now!
+  Kiss me, love! for who knoweth
+  What thing cometh after death?_
+
+  HÆC.
+
+    _Shall we weep for a dead day,
+  Or set Sorrow in our way?
+  Hidden by my golden hair,
+  Wilt thou weep that sweet days wear?
+  Kiss me, love! for who knoweth
+  What thing cometh after death?_
+
+  ILLE.
+
+  _Weep, O Love, the days that flit,
+    Now, while I can feel thy breath;
+  Then may I remember it
+    Sad and old, and near my death.
+  Kiss me, love! for who knoweth
+  What thing cometh after death_?
+
+
+  Soothed by the pleasure that the music brought
+  And sweet desire, and vague and dreamy thought
+  Of happiness it seemed to promise him,
+  He lay and listened till his eyes grew dim,
+  And o'er him 'gan forgetfulness to creep
+  Till in the growing light he lay asleep,
+  Nor woke until the clanging trumpet-blast
+  Had summoned him all thought away to cast:
+  Yet one more joy of love indeed he had
+  Ere with the battle's noise he was made glad;
+  For, as on that May morning forth they rode
+  And passed before the Queen's most fair abode,
+  There at a window was she waiting them
+  In fair attire with gold in every hem,
+  And as the ancient Knight beneath her passed
+  A wreath of flowering white-thorn down she cast,
+  And looked farewell to him, and forth he set
+  Thinking of all the pleasure he should get
+  From love and war, forgetting Avallon
+  And all that lovely life so lightly won;
+  Yea, now indeed the earthly life o'erpast
+  Ere on the loadstone rock his ship was cast
+  Was waxing dim, nor yet at all he learned
+  To 'scape the fire that erst his heart had burned.
+  And he forgat his deeds, forgat his fame,
+  Forgat the letters of his ancient name
+  As one waked fully shall forget a dream,
+  That once to him a wondrous tale did seem.
+
+    Now I, though writing here no chronicle
+  E'en as I said, must nathless shortly tell
+  That, ere the army Rouen's gates could gain
+  By a broad arrow had the King been slain,
+  And helpless now the wretched country lay
+  Beneath the yoke, until the glorious day
+  When Ogier fell at last upon the foe,
+  And scattered them as helplessly as though
+  They had been beaten men without a name:
+  So when to Paris town once more he came
+  Few folk the memory of the King did keep
+  Within their hearts, and if the folk did weep
+  At his returning, 'twas for joy indeed
+  That such a man had risen at their need
+  To work for them so great deliverance,
+  And loud they called on him for King of France.
+
+    But if the Queen's heart were the more a-flame
+  For all that she had heard of his great fame,
+  I know not; rather with some hidden dread
+  Of coming fate, she heard her lord was dead,
+  And her false dream seemed coming true at last,
+  For the clear sky of love seemed overcast
+  With clouds of God's great judgments, and the fear
+  Of hate and final parting drawing near.
+    So now when he before her throne did stand
+  Amidst the throng as saviour of the land,
+  And she her eyes to his kind eyes did raise,
+  And there before all her own love must praise;
+  Then did she fall a-weeping, and folk said,
+  "See, how she sorrows for the newly dead!
+  Amidst our joy she needs must think of him;
+  Let be, full surely shall her grief wax dim
+  And she shall wed again."
+                              So passed the year,
+  While Ogier set himself the land to clear
+  Of broken remnants of the heathen men,
+  And at the last, when May-time came again,
+  Must he be crowned King of the twice-saved land,
+  And at the altar take the fair Queen's hand
+  And wed her for his own. And now by this
+  Had he forgotten clean the woe and bliss
+  Of his old life, and still was he made glad
+  As other men; and hopes and fears he had
+  As others, and bethought him not at all
+  Of what strange days upon him yet should fall
+  When he should live and these again be dead.
+
+    Now drew the time round when he should be wed,
+  And in his palace on his bed he lay
+  Upon the dawning of the very day:
+  'Twixt sleep and waking was he, and could hear
+  E'en at that hour, through the bright morn and clear,
+  The hammering of the folk who toiled to make
+  Some well-wrought stages for the pageant's sake,
+  Though hardly yet the sparrows had begun
+  To twitter o'er the coming of the sun,
+  Nor through the palace did a creature move.
+    There in the sweet entanglement of love
+  Midst languid thoughts of greater bliss he lay,
+  Remembering no more of that other day
+  Than the hot noon remembereth of the night,
+  Than summer thinketh of the winter white.
+    In that sweet hour he heard a voice that cried,
+  "Ogier, Ogier!" then, opening his eyes wide,
+  And rising on his elbow, gazed around,
+  And strange to him and empty was the sound
+  Of his own name; "Whom callest thou?" he said.
+  "For I, the man who lies upon this bed,
+  Am Charles of France, and shall be King to-day,
+  But in a year that now is past away
+  The Ancient Knight they called me: who is this,
+  Thou callest Ogier, then, what deeds are his?
+  And who art thou?" But at that word a sigh,
+  As of one grieved, came from some place anigh
+  His bed-side, and a soft voice spake again,
+  "This Ogier once was great amongst great men;
+  To Italy a helpless hostage led;
+  He saved the King when the false Lombard fled,
+  Bore forth the Oriflamme and gained the day;
+  Charlot he brought back, whom men led away,
+  And fought a day-long fight with Caraheu.
+  The ravager of Rome his right hand slew;
+  Nor did he fear the might of Charlemaine,
+  Who for a dreary year beset in vain
+  His lonely castle; yet at last caught then,
+  And shut in hold, needs must he come again
+  To give an unhoped great deliverance
+  Unto the burdened helpless land of France:
+  Denmark he gained thereafter, and he wore
+  The crown of England drawn from trouble sore;
+  At Tyre then he reigned, and Babylon
+  With mighty deeds he from the foemen won;
+  And when scarce aught could give him greater fame,
+  He left the world still thinking on his name.
+    "These things did Ogier, and these things didst thou,
+  Nor will I call thee by a new name now
+  Since I have spoken words of love to thee--
+  Ogier, Ogier, dost thou remember me,
+  E'en if thou hast no thought of that past time
+  Before thou earnest to our happy clime?"
+
+    As this was said, his mazed eyes saw indeed
+  A lovely woman clad in dainty weed
+  Beside his bed, and many a thought was stirred
+  Within his heart by that last plaintive word,
+  Though nought he said, but waited what should come.
+  "Love," said she, "I am here to bring thee home;
+  Well hast thou done all that thou cam'st to do,
+  And if thou bidest here, for something new
+  Will folk begin to cry, and all thy fame
+  Shall then avail thee but for greater blame;
+  Thy love shall cease to love thee, and the earth
+  Thou lovest now shall be of little worth
+  While still thou keepest life, abhorring it.
+  Behold, in men's lives that so quickly flit
+  Thus is it, how then shall it be with thee,
+  Who some faint image of eternity
+  Hast gained through me?--alas, thou heedest not!
+  On all these changing things thine heart is hot--
+  Take then this gift that I have brought from far,
+  And then may'st thou remember what we are;
+  The lover and the loved from long ago."
+    He trembled, and more memory seemed to grow
+  Within his heart as he beheld her stand,
+  Holding a glittering crown in her right hand:
+  "Ogier," she said, "arise and do on thee
+  The emblems of thy worldly sovereignity,
+  For we must pass o'er many a sea this morn."
+    He rose, and in the glittering tunic worn
+  By Charlemaine he clad himself, and took
+  The ivory hand, that Charlemaine once shook
+  Over the people's head in days of old;
+  Then on his feet he set the shoes of gold,
+  And o'er his shoulders threw the mantle fair,
+  And set the gold crown on his golden hair:
+  Then on the royal chair he sat him down,
+  As though he deemed the elders of the town
+  Should come to audience; and in all he seemed
+  To do these things e'en as a man who dreamed.
+
+    And now adown the Seine the golden sun
+  Shone out, as toward him drew that lovely one
+  And took from off his head the royal crown,
+  And, smiling, on the pillow laid it down
+  And said, "Lie there, O crown of Charlemaine,
+  Worn by a mighty man, and worn in vain,
+  Because he died, and all the things he did
+  Were changed before his face by earth was hid;
+  A better crown I have for my love's head,
+  Whereby he yet shall live, when all are dead
+  His hand has helped." Then on his head she set
+  The wondrous crown, and said, "Forget, forget!
+  Forget these weary things, for thou hast much
+  Of happiness to think of."
+                             At that touch
+  He rose, a happy light gleamed in his eyes;
+  And smitten by the rush of memories,
+  He stammered out, "O love! how came we here?
+  What do we in this land of Death and Fear?
+  Have I not been from thee a weary while?
+  Let us return--I dreamed about the isle;
+  I dreamed of other years of strife and pain,
+  Of new years full of struggles long and vain."
+    She took him by the hand and said, "Come, love,
+  I am not changed;" and therewith did they move
+  Unto the door, and through the sleeping place
+  Swiftly they went, and still was Ogier's face
+  Turned on her beauty, and no thought was his
+  Except the dear returning of his bliss.
+    But at the threshold of the palace-gate
+  That opened to them, she awhile did wait,
+  And turned her eyes unto the rippling Seine
+  And said, "O love, behold it once again!"
+  He turned, and gazed upon the city grey
+  Smit by the gold of that sweet morn of May;
+  He heard faint noises as of wakening folk
+  As on their heads his day of glory broke;
+  He heard the changing rush of the swift stream
+  Against the bridge-piers. All was grown a dream.
+  His work was over, his reward was come,
+  Why should he loiter longer from his home?
+
+    A little while she watched him silently,
+  Then beckoned him to follow with a sigh,
+  And, raising up the raiment from her feet,
+  Across the threshold stepped into the street;
+  One moment on the twain the low sun shone,
+  And then the place was void, and they were gone
+  How I know not; but this I know indeed,
+  That in whatso great trouble or sore need
+  The land of France since that fair day has been,
+  No more the sword of Ogier has she seen.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+  Such was the tale he told of Avallon,
+  E'en such an one as in days past had won
+  His youthful heart to think upon the quest;
+  But to those old hearts nigh in reach of rest,
+  Not much to be desired now it seemed--
+  Perchance the heart that of such things had dreamed
+  Had found no words in this death-laden tongue
+  We speak on earth, wherewith they might be sung;
+  Perchance the changing years that changed his heart
+  E'en in the words of that old tale had part,
+  Changing its sweet to bitter, to despair
+  The foolish hope that once had glittered there--
+  Or think, that in some bay of that far home
+  They then had sat, and watched the green waves come
+  Up to their feet with many promises;
+  Or the light wind midst blossom-laden trees,
+  In the sweet Spring had weighted many a word
+  Of no worth now, and many a hope had stirred
+  Long dead for ever.
+                       Howsoe'er that be
+  Among strange folk they now sat quietly,
+  As though that tale with them had nought to do,
+  As though its hopes and fears were something new.
+  But though, indeed, the outworn, dwindled band
+  Had no tears left for that once longed-for land,
+  The very wind must moan for their decay,
+  And from the sky, grown dull, and low, and grey,
+  Cold tears must fall upon the lonely field,
+  That such fair golden hopes erewhile did yield;
+  And on the blackening woods, wherein the doves
+  Sat silent now, forgetful of their loves.
+  Yet, since a little life at least was left,
+  They were not yet of every joy bereft,
+  For long ago was past the agony,
+  Midst which they found that they indeed must die;
+  And now well-nigh as much their pain was past
+  As though death's veil already had been cast
+  Over their heads--so, midst some little mirth,
+  They watched the dark night hide the gloomy earth.
+
+
+
+
+  THE GOLDEN APPLES.
+
+This tale tells of the voyage of a ship of Tyre, that, against the will
+of the shipmen, bore Hercules to an unknown land of the West, that he
+might accomplish a task laid on him by the Fates.
+
+
+    As many as the leaves fall from the tree,
+  From the world's life the years are fallen away
+  Since King Eurystheus sat in majesty
+  In fair Mycenæ; midmost of whose day
+  It once befell that in a quiet bay
+  A ship of Tyre was swinging nigh the shore,
+  Her folk for sailing handling rope and oar.
+
+    Fresh was the summer morn, a soft wind stole
+  Down from the sheep-browsed slopes the cliffs that crowned,
+  And ruffled lightly the long gleaming roll
+  Of the peaceful sea, and bore along the sound
+  Of shepherd-folk and sheep and questing hound,
+  For in the first dip of the hillside there
+  Lay bosomed 'mid its trees a homestead fair.
+
+    Amid regrets for last night, when the moon,
+  Risen on the soft dusk, shone on maidens' feet
+  Brushing the gold-heart lilies to the tune
+  Of pipes complaining, o'er the grass down-beat
+  That mixed with dewy flowers its odour sweet,
+  The shipmen laboured, till the sail unfurled
+  Swung round the prow to meet another world.
+
+    But ere the anchor had come home, a shout
+  Rang from the strand, as though the ship were hailed.
+  Whereat the master bade them stay, in doubt
+  That they without some needful thing had sailed;
+  When, lo! from where the cliff's steep grey sides failed
+  Into a ragged stony slip, came twain
+  Who seemed in haste the ready keel to gain.
+
+    Soon they drew nigh, and he who first came down
+  Unto the surf was a man huge of limb,
+  Grey-eyed, with crisp-curled hair 'twixt black and brown,
+  Who had a lion's skin cast over him,
+  So wrought with gold that the fell showed but dim
+  Betwixt the threads, and in his hand he bore
+  A mighty club with bands of steel done o'er.
+
+    Panting there followed him a grey old man,
+  Bearing a long staff, clad in gown of blue,
+  Feeble of aspect, hollow-cheeked and wan,
+  Who when unto his fellow's side he drew,
+  Said faintly: "Now, do that which thou shouldst do;
+  This is the ship." Then in the other's eye
+  A smile gleamed, and he spake out merrily:
+
+    "Masters, folk tell me that ye make for Tyre,
+  And after that still nearer to the sun;
+  And since Fate bids me look to die by fire,
+  Fain am I, ere my worldly day be done,
+  To know what from earth's hottest can be won;
+  And this old man, my kinsman, would with me.
+  How say ye, will ye bear us o'er the sea?"
+
+    "What is thy name?" the master said: "And know
+  That we are merchants, and for nought give nought;
+  What wilt thou pay?--thou seem'st full rich, I trow."
+  The old man muttered, stooped adown and caught
+  At something in the sand: "E'en so I thought,"
+  The younger said, "when I set out from home--
+  As to my name, perchance in days to come
+
+    "Thou shalt know that--but have heed, take this toy,
+  And call me the Strong Man." And as he spake
+  The master's deep-brown eyes 'gan gleam with joy,
+  For from his arm a huge ring did he take,
+  And cast it on the deck, where it did break
+  A water-jar, and in the wet shards lay
+  Golden, and gleaming like the end of day.
+
+    But the old man held out a withered hand,
+  Wherein there shone two pearls most great and fair,
+  And said, "If any nigher I might stand,
+  Then might'st thou see the things I give thee here--
+  And for a name--a many names I bear,
+  But call me Shepherd of the Shore this tide,
+  And for more knowledge with a good will bide."
+
+    From one to the other turned the master's eyes;
+  The Strong Man laughed as at some hidden jest,
+  And wild doubts in the shipman's heart did rise;
+  But thinking on the thing, he deemed it best
+  To bid them come aboard, and take such rest
+  As they might have of the untrusty sea,
+  'Mid men who trusty fellows still should be.
+
+    Then no more words the Strong Man made, but straight
+  Caught up the elder in his arms, and so,
+  Making no whit of all that added weight,
+  Strode to the ship, right through the breakers low,
+  And catching at the rope that they did throw
+  Out toward his hand, swung up into the ship;
+  Then did the master let the hawser slip.
+
+    The shapely prow cleft the wet mead and green,
+  And wondering drew the shipmen round to gaze
+  Upon those limbs, the mightiest ever seen;
+  And many deemed it no light thing to face
+  The splendour of his eyen, though they did blaze
+  With no wrath now, no hate for them to dread,
+  As seaward 'twixt the summer isles they sped.
+
+    Freshened the wind, but ever fair it blew
+  Unto the south-east; but as failed the land,
+  Unto the plunging prow the Strong Man drew,
+  And silent, gazing with wide eyes did stand,
+  As though his heart found rest; but 'mid the band
+  Of shipmen in the stern the old man sat,
+  Telling them tales that no man there forgat.
+
+    As one who had beheld, he told them there
+  Of the sweet singer, whom, for his song's sake,
+  The dolphins back from choking death did bear;
+  How in the mid sea did the vine outbreak
+  O'er that ill bark when Bacchus 'gan to wake;
+  How anigh Cyprus, ruddy with the rose
+  The cold sea grew as any June-loved close;
+
+    While on the flowery shore all things alive
+  Grew faint with sense of birth of some delight,
+  And the nymphs waited trembling there, to give
+  Glad welcome to the glory of that sight:
+  He paused then, ere he told how, wild and white,
+  Rose ocean, breaking o'er a race accurst,
+  A world once good, now come unto its worst.
+
+    And then he smiled, and said, "And yet ye won,
+  Ye men, and tremble not on days like these,
+  Nor think with what a mind Prometheus' son
+  Beheld the last of the torn reeling trees
+  From high Parnassus: slipping through the seas
+  Ye never think, ye men-folk, how ye seem
+  From down below through the green waters' gleam."
+
+    Dusk was it now when these last words he said,
+  And little of his visage might they see,
+  But o'er their hearts stole vague and troublous dread,
+  They knew not why; yet ever quietly
+  They sailed that night; nor might a morning be
+  Fairer than was the next morn; and they went
+  Along their due course after their intent.
+
+    The fourth day, about sunrise, from the mast
+  The watch cried out he saw Phoenician land;
+  Whereat the Strong Man on the elder cast
+  A look askance, and he straight took his stand
+  Anigh the prow, and gazed beneath his hand
+  Upon the low sun and the scarce-seen shore,
+  Till cloud-flecks rose, and gathered and drew o'er.
+
+    The morn grown cold; then small rain 'gan to fall,
+  And all the wind dropped dead, and hearts of men
+  Sank, and their bark seemed helpless now and small;
+  Then suddenly the wind 'gan moan again;
+  Sails flapped, and ropes beat wild about; and then
+  Down came the great east wind; and the ship ran
+  Straining, heeled o'er, through seas all changed and wan.
+
+    Westward, scarce knowing night from day, they drave
+  Through sea and sky grown one; the Strong Man wrought
+  With mighty hands, and seemed a god to save;
+  But on the prow, heeding all weather nought,
+  The elder stood, nor any prop he sought,
+  But swayed to the ship's wallowing, as on wings
+  He there were set above the wrack of things.
+
+    And westward still they drave; and if they saw
+  Land upon either side, as on they sped,
+  'Twas but as faces in a dream may draw
+  Anigh, and fade, and leave nought in their stead;
+  And in the shipmen's hearts grew heavy dread
+  To sick despair; they deemed they should drive on
+  Till the world's edge and empty space were won.
+
+    But 'neath the Strong Man's eyes e'en as they might
+  They toiled on still; and he sang to the wind,
+  And spread his arms to meet the waters white,
+  As o'er the deck they tumbled, making blind
+  The brine-drenched shipmen; nor with eye unkind
+  He gazed up at the lightning; nor would frown
+  When o'er the wet waste Jove's bolt rattled down.
+
+    And they, who at the last had come to think
+  Their guests were very gods, with all their fear
+  Feared nought belike that their good ship would sink
+  Amid the storm; but rather looked to hear
+  The last moan of the wind that them should bear
+  Into the windless stream of ocean grey,
+  Where they should float till dead was every day.
+
+    Yet their fear mocked them; for the storm 'gan die
+  About the tenth day, though unto the west
+  They drave on still; soon fair and quietly
+  The morn would break: and though amid their rest
+  Nought but long evil wandering seemed the best
+  That they might hope for; still, despite their dread,
+  Sweet was the quiet sea and goodlihead
+
+    Of the bright sun at last come back again;
+  And as the days passed, less and less fear grew,
+  If without cause, till faded all their pain;
+  And they 'gan turn unto their guests anew,
+  Yet durst ask nought of what that evil drew
+  Upon their heads; or of returning speak.
+  Happy they felt, but listless, spent, and weak.
+
+    And now as at the first the elder was,
+  And sat and told them tales of yore agone;
+  But ever the Strong Man up and down would pass
+  About the deck, or on the prow alone
+  Would stand and stare out westward; and still on
+  Through a fair summer sea they went, nor thought
+  Of what would come when these days turned to nought.
+
+    And now when twenty days were well passed o'er
+  They made a new land; cloudy mountains high
+  Rose from the sea at first; then a green shore
+  Spread fair below them: as they drew anigh
+  No sloping, stony strand could they espy,
+  And no surf breaking; the green sea and wide
+  Wherethrough they slipped was driven by no tide.
+
+    Dark fell ere they might set their eager feet
+  Upon the shore; but night-long their ship lay
+  As in a deep stream, by the blossoms sweet
+  That flecked the grass whence flowers ne'er passed away.
+  But when the cloud-barred east brought back the day,
+  And turned the western mountain-tops to gold,
+  Fresh fear the shipmen in their bark did hold.
+
+    For as a dream seemed all; too fair for those
+  Who needs must die; moreover they could see,
+  A furlong off, 'twixt apple-tree and rose,
+  A brazen wall that gleamed out wondrously
+  In the young sun, and seemed right long to be;
+  And memory of all marvels lay upon
+  Their shrinking hearts now this sweet place was won.
+
+    But when unto the nameless guests they turned,
+  Who stood together nigh the plank shot out
+  Shoreward, within the Strong Man's eyes there burned
+  A wild light, as the other one in doubt
+  He eyed a moment; then with a great shout
+  Leaped into the blossomed grass; the echoes rolled
+  Back from the hills, harsh still and over-bold.
+
+    Slowly the old man followed him, and still
+  The crew held back: they knew now they were brought
+  Over the sea the purpose to fulfil
+  Of these strange men; and in their hearts they thought,
+  "Perchance we yet shall live, if, meddling nought
+  With dreams, we bide here till these twain come back;
+  But prying eyes the fire-blast seldom lack."
+
+    Yet 'mongst them were two fellows bold and young,
+  Who, looking each upon the other's face,
+  Their hearts to meet the unknown danger strung,
+  And went ashore, and at a gentle pace
+  Followed the strangers, who unto the place
+  Where the wall gleamed had turned; peace and desire
+  Mingled together in their hearts, as nigher
+
+    They drew unto that wall, and dulled their fear:
+  Fair wrought it was, as though with bricks of brass;
+  And images upon its face there were,
+  Stories of things a long while come to pass:
+  Nor that alone--as looking in a glass
+  Its maker knew the tales of what should be,
+  And wrought them there for bird and beast to see.
+
+    So on they went; the many birds sang sweet
+  Through all that blossomed thicket from above,
+  And unknown flowers bent down before their feet;
+  The very air, cleft by the grey-winged dove,
+  Throbbed with sweet scent, and smote their souls with love.
+  Slowly they went till those twain stayed before
+  A strangely-wrought and iron-covered door.
+
+    They stayed, too, till o'er noise of wind, and bird,
+  And falling flower, there rang a mighty shout
+  As the Strong Man his steel-bound club upreared,
+  And drave it 'gainst the hammered iron stout,
+  Where 'neath his blows flew bolt and rivet out,
+  Till shattered on the ground the great door lay,
+  And into the guarded place bright poured the day.
+
+    The Strong Man entered, but his fellow stayed,
+  Leaning against a tree-trunk as they deemed.
+  They faltered now, and yet all things being weighed
+  Went on again; and thought they must have dreamed
+  Of the old man, for now the sunlight streamed
+  Full on the tree he had been leaning on,
+  And him they saw not go, yet was he gone:
+
+    Only a slim green lizard flitted there
+  Amidst the dry leaves; him they noted nought,
+  But trembling, through the doorway 'gan to peer,
+  And still of strange and dreadful saw not aught,
+  Only a garden fair beyond all thought.
+  And there, 'twixt sun and shade, the Strong Man went
+  On some long-sought-for end belike intent.
+
+    They 'gan to follow down a narrow way
+  Of green-sward that the lilies trembled o'er,
+  And whereon thick the scattered rose-leaves lay;
+  But a great wonder weighed upon them sore,
+  And well they thought they should return no more,
+  Yet scarce a pain that seemed; they looked to meet
+  Before they died things strange and fair and sweet.
+
+    So still to right and left the Strong Man thrust
+  The blossomed boughs, and passed on steadily,
+  As though his hardy heart he well did trust,
+  Till in a while he gave a joyous cry,
+  And hastened on, as though the end drew nigh;
+  And women's voices then they deemed they heard,
+  Mixed with a noise that made desire afeard.
+
+    Yet through sweet scents and sounds on did they bear
+  Their panting hearts, till the path ended now
+  In a wide space of green, a streamlet clear
+  From out a marble basin there did flow,
+  And close by that a slim-trunked tree did grow,
+  And on a bough low o'er the water cold
+  There hung three apples of red-gleaming gold.
+
+    About the tree, new risen e'en now to meet
+  The shining presence of that mighty one,
+  Three damsels stood, naked from head to feet
+  Save for the glory of their hair, where sun
+  And shadow flickered, while the wind did run
+  Through the grey leaves o'erhead, and shook the grass
+  Where nigh their feet the wandering bee did pass.
+
+    But 'midst their delicate limbs and all around
+  The tree-roots, gleaming blue black could they see
+  The spires of a great serpent, that, enwound
+  About the smooth bole, looked forth threateningly,
+  With glittering eyes and raised crest, o'er the three
+  Fair heads fresh crowned, and hissed above the speech
+  Wherewith they murmured softly each to each.
+
+    Now the Strong Man amid the green space stayed,
+  And leaning on his club, with eager eyes
+  But brow yet smooth, in voice yet friendly said:
+  "O daughters of old Hesperus the Wise,
+  Well have ye held your guard here; but time tries
+  The very will of gods, and to my hand
+  Must give this day the gold fruit of your land."
+
+    Then spake the first maid--sweet as the west wind
+  Amidst of summer noon her sweet voice was:
+  "Ah, me! what knows this place of changing mind
+  Of men or gods; here shall long ages pass,
+  And clean forget thy feet upon the grass,
+  Thy hapless bones amid the fruitful mould;
+  Look at thy death envenomed swift and cold!"
+
+    Hiding new flowers, the dull coils, as she spake,
+  Moved near her limbs: but then the second one,
+  In such a voice as when the morn doth wake
+  To song of birds, said, "When the world foredone
+  Has moaned its last, still shall we dwell alone
+  Beneath this bough, and have no tales to tell
+  Of things deemed great that on the earth befell."
+
+    Then spake the third, in voice as of the flute
+  That wakes the maiden to her wedding morn:
+  "If any god should gain our golden fruit,
+  Its curse would make his deathless life forlorn.
+  Lament thou, then, that ever thou wert born;
+  Yet all things, changed by joy or loss or pain,
+  To what they were shall change and change again."
+
+    "So be it," he said, "the Fates that drive me on
+  Shall slay me or shall save; blessing or curse
+  That followeth after when the thing is won
+  Shall make my work no better now nor worse;
+  And if it be that the world's heart must nurse
+  Hatred against me, how then shall I choose
+  To leave or take?--let your dread servant loose!"
+
+    E'en therewith, like a pillar of black smoke,
+  Swift, shifting ever, drave the worm at him;
+  In deadly silence now that nothing broke,
+  Its folds were writhing round him trunk and limb,
+  Until his glittering gear was nought but dim
+  E'en in that sunshine, while his head and side
+  And breast the fork-tongued, pointed muzzle tried.
+
+    Closer the coils drew, quicker all about
+  The forked tongue darted, and yet stiff he stood,
+  E'en as an oak that sees the straw flare out
+  And lick its ancient bole for little good:
+  Until the godlike fury of his mood
+  Burst from his heart in one great shattering cry,
+  And rattling down the loosened coils did lie;
+
+    And from the torn throat and crushed dreadful head
+  Forth flowed a stream of blood along the grass;
+  Bright in the sun he stood above the dead,
+  Panting with fury; yet as ever was
+  The wont of him, soon did his anger pass,
+  And with a happy smile at last he turned
+  To where the apples o'er the water burned.
+
+    Silent and moveless ever stood the three;
+  No change came o'er their faces, as his hand
+  Was stretched aloft unto the sacred tree;
+  Nor shrank they aught aback, though he did stand
+  So close that tresses of their bright hair, fanned
+  By the sweet garden breeze, lay light on him,
+  And his gold fell brushed by them breast and limb.
+
+    He drew adown the wind-stirred bough, and took
+  The apples thence; then let it spring away,
+  And from his brow the dark hair backward shook,
+  And said: "O sweet, O fair, and shall this day
+  A curse upon my life henceforward lay--
+  This day alone? Methinks of coming life
+  Somewhat I know, with all its loss and strife.
+
+    "But this I know, at least: the world shall wend
+  Upon its way, and, gathering joy and grief
+  And deeds done, bear them with it to the end;
+  So shall it, though I lie as last year's leaf
+  Lies 'neath a summer tree, at least receive
+  My life gone by, and store it, with the gain
+  That men alive call striving, wrong, and pain.
+
+    "So for my part I rather bless than curse,
+  And bless this fateful land; good be with it;
+  Nor for this deadly thing's death is it worse,
+  Nor for the lack of gold; still shall ye sit
+  Watching the swallow o'er the daisies flit;
+  Still shall your wandering limbs ere day is done
+  Make dawn desired by the sinking sun.
+
+    "And now, behold! in memory of all this
+  Take ye this girdle that shall waste and fade
+  As fadeth not your fairness and your bliss,
+  That when hereafter 'mid the blossoms laid
+  Ye talk of days and men now nothing made,
+  Ye may remember how the Theban man,
+  The son of Jove, came o'er the waters wan."
+
+    Their faces changed not aught for all they heard;
+  As though all things now fully told out were,
+  They gazed upon him without any word:
+  Ah! craving kindness, hope, or loving care,
+  Their fairness scarcely could have made more fair,
+  As with the apples folded in his fell
+  He went, to do more deeds for folk to tell.
+
+    Now as the girdle on the ground was cast
+  Those fellows turned and hurried toward the door,
+  And as across its broken leaves they passed
+  The old man saw they not, e'en as before;
+  But an unearthed blind mole bewildered sore
+  Was wandering there in fruitless, aimless wise,
+  That got small heed from their full-sated eyes.
+
+    Swift gat they to their anxious folk; nor had
+  More time than just to say, "Be of good cheer,
+  For in our own land may we yet be glad,"
+  When they beheld the guests a-drawing near;
+  And much bewildered the two fellows were
+  To see the old man, and must even deem
+  That they should see things stranger than a dream.
+
+    But when they were aboard the elder cried,
+  "Up sails, my masters, fair now is the wind;
+  Nor good it is too long here to abide,
+  Lest what ye may not loose your souls should bind."
+  And as he spake, the tall trees left behind
+  Stirred with the rising land-wind, and the crew,
+  Joyous thereat, the hawsers shipward drew.
+
+    Swift sped the ship, and glad at heart were all,
+  And the Strong Man was merry with the rest,
+  And from the elder's lips no word did fall
+  That did not seem to promise all the best;
+  Yet with a certain awe were men oppressed,
+  And felt as if their inmost hearts were bare,
+  And each man's secret babbled through the air.
+
+    Still oft the old man sat with them and told
+  Tales of past time, as on the outward way;
+  And now would they the face of him behold
+  And deem it changed; the years that on him lay
+  Seemed to grow nought, and no more wan and grey
+  He looked, but ever glorious, wise and strong,
+  As though no lapse of time for him were long.
+
+    At last, when six days through the kindly sea
+  Their keel had slipped, he said: "Come hearken now,
+  For so it is that things fare wondrously
+  E'en in these days; and I a tale can show
+  That, told by you unto your sons shall grow
+  A marvel of the days that are to come:
+  Take heed and tell it when ye reach your home.
+
+    "Yet living in the world a man there is
+  Men call the Theban King Amphitryon's son,
+  Although perchance a greater sire was his;
+  But certainly his lips have hung upon
+  Alcmena's breasts: great deeds this man hath won
+  Already, for his name is Hercules,
+  And e'en ye Asian folk have heard of these.
+
+    "Now ere the moon, this eve in his last wane,
+  Was born, this Hercules, the fated thrall
+  Of King Eurystheus, was straight bid to gain
+  Gifts from a land whereon no foot doth fall
+  Of mortal man, beyond the misty wall
+  Of unknown waters; pensively he went
+  Along the sea on his hard life intent.
+
+    "And at the dawn he came into a bay
+  Where the sea, ebbed far down, left wastes of sand,
+  Walled from the green earth by great cliffs and grey;
+  Then he looked up, and wondering there did stand,
+  For strange things lay in slumber on the strand;
+  Strange counterparts of what the firm earth hath
+  Lay scattered all about his weary path:
+
+    "Sea-lions and sea-horses and sea-kine,
+  Sea-boars, sea-men strange-skinned, of wondrous hair;
+  And in their midst a man who seemed divine
+  For changeless eld, and round him women fair,
+  Clad in the sea-webs glassy green and clear
+  With gems on head and girdle, limb and breast,
+  Such as earth knoweth not among her best.
+
+    "A moment at the fair and wondrous sight
+  He stared, then, since the heart in him was good,
+  He went about with careful steps and light
+  Till o'er the sleeping sea-god now he stood;
+  And if the white-foot maids had stirred his blood
+  As he passed by, now other thoughts had place
+  Within his heart when he beheld that face.
+
+    "For Nereus now he knew, who knows all things;
+  And to himself he said, 'If I prevail,
+  Better than by some god-wrought eagle-wings
+  Shall I be holpen;' then he cried out: 'Hail,
+  O Nereus! lord of shifting hill and dale!
+  Arise and wrestle; I am Hercules!
+  Not soon now shalt thou meet the ridgy seas.'
+
+    "And mightily he cast himself on him;
+  And Nereus cried out shrilly; and straightway
+  That sleeping crowd, fair maid with half-hid limb,
+  Strange man and green-haired beast, made no delay,
+  But glided down into the billows grey,
+  And, by the lovely sea embraced, were gone,
+  While they two wrestled on the sea strand lone.
+
+    "Soon found the sea-god that his bodily might
+  Was nought in dealing with Jove's dear one there;
+  And soon he 'gan to use his magic sleight:
+  Into a lithe leopard, and a hugging bear
+  He turned him; then the smallest fowl of air
+  The straining arms of Hercules must hold,
+  And then a mud-born wriggling eel and cold.
+
+    "Then as the firm hands mastered this, forth brake
+  A sudden rush of waters all around,
+  Blinding and choking: then a thin green snake
+  With golden eyes; then o'er the shell-strewn ground
+  Forth stole a fly the least that may be found;
+  Then earth and heaven seemed wrapped in one huge flame,
+  But from the midst thereof a voice there came:
+
+    "'Kinsman and stout-heart, thou hast won the day,
+  Nor to my grief: what wouldst thou have of me?'
+  And therewith to an old man small and grey
+  Faded the roaring flame, who wearily
+  Sat down upon the sand and said, 'Let be!
+  I know thy tale; worthy of help thou art;
+  Come now, a short way hence will there depart
+
+    "'A ship of Tyre for the warm southern seas,
+  Come we a-board; according to my will
+  Her way shall be.' Then up rose Hercules,
+  Merry of face, though hot and panting still;
+  But the fair summer day his heart did fill
+  With all delight; and so forth went the twain,
+  And found those men desirous of all gain.
+
+    "Ah, for these gainful men--somewhat indeed
+  Their sails are rent, their bark beat; kin and friend
+  Are wearying for them; yet a friend in need
+  They yet shall gain, if at their journey's end,
+  Upon the last ness where the wild goats wend
+  To lick the salt-washed stones, a house they raise
+  Bedight with gold in kindly Nereus' praise."
+
+    Breathless they waited for these latest words,
+  That like the soft wind of the gathering night
+  Were grown to be: about the mast flew birds
+  Making their moan, hovering long-winged and white;
+  And now before their straining anxious sight
+  The old man faded out into the air,
+  And from his place flew forth a sea-mew fair.
+
+    Then to the Mighty Man, Alcmena's son,
+  With yearning hearts they turned till he should speak,
+  And he spake softly: "Nought ill have ye done
+  In helping me to find what I did seek:
+  The world made better by me knows if weak
+  My hand and heart are: but now, light the fire
+  Upon the prow and worship the grey sire."
+
+    So did they; and such gifts as there they had
+  Gave unto Nereus; yea, and sooth to say,
+  Amid the tumult of their hearts made glad,
+  Had honoured Hercules in e'en such way;
+  But he laughed out amid them, and said, "Nay,
+  Not yet the end is come; nor have I yet
+  Bowed down before vain longing and regret.
+
+    "It may be--who shall tell, when I go back
+  There whence I came, and looking down behold
+  The place that my once eager heart shall lack,
+  And all my dead desires a-lying cold,
+  But I may have the might then to enfold
+  The hopes of brave men in my heart?--but long
+  Life lies before first with its change and wrong."
+
+    So fair along the watery ways they sped
+  In happy wise, nor failed of their return;
+  Nor failed in ancient Tyre the ways to tread,
+  Teaching their tale to whomsoever would learn,
+  Nor failed at last the flesh of beasts to burn
+  In Nereus' house, turned toward the bright day's end
+  On the last ness, round which the wild goats wend.
+
+
+
+
+  L'ENVOI.
+
+
+    Here are we for the last time face to face,
+  Thou and I, Book, before I bid thee speed
+  Upon thy perilous journey to that place
+  For which I have done on thee pilgrim's weed,
+  Striving to get thee all things for thy need--
+  --I love thee, whatso time or men may say
+  Of the poor singer of an empty day.
+
+    Good reason why I love thee, e'en if thou
+  Be mocked or clean forgot as time wears on;
+  For ever as thy fashioning did grow,
+  Kind word and praise because of thee I won
+  From those without whom were my world all gone,
+  My hope fallen dead, my singing cast away,
+  And I set soothly in an empty day.
+
+    I love thee; yet this last time must it be,
+  That thou must hold thy peace and I must speak,
+  Lest if thou babble I begin to see
+  Thy gear too thin, thy limbs and heart too weak,
+  To find the land thou goest forth to seek--
+  --Though what harm if thou die upon the way,
+  Thou idle singer of an empty day?
+
+    But though this land desired thou never reach,
+  Yet folk who know it mayst thou meet or death;
+  Therefore a word unto thee would I teach
+  To answer these, who, noting thy weak breath,
+  Thy wandering eyes, thy heart of little faith,
+  May make thy fond desire a sport and play,
+  Mocking the singer of an empty day.
+
+    That land's name, say'st thou? and the road thereto?
+  Nay, Book, thou mockest, saying thou know'st it not;
+  Surely no book of verse I ever knew
+  But ever was the heart within him hot
+  To gain the Land of Matters Unforgot--
+  --There, now we both laugh--as the whole world may,
+  At us poor singers of an empty day.
+
+    Nay, let it pass, and hearken! Hast thou heard
+  That therein I believe I have a friend,
+  Of whom for love I may not be afeard?
+  It is to him indeed I bid thee wend;
+  Yea, he perchance may meet thee ere thou end,
+  Dying so far off from the hedge of bay,
+  Thou idle singer of an empty day!
+
+    Well, think of him, I bid thee, on the road,
+  And if it hap that midst of thy defeat,
+  Fainting beneath thy follies' heavy load,
+  My Master, Geoffrey Chaucer, thou do meet,
+  Then shalt thou win a space of rest full sweet;
+  Then be thou bold, and speak the words I say,
+  The idle singer of an empty day!
+
+    "O Master, O thou great of heart and tongue,
+  Thou well mayst ask me why I wander here,
+  In raiment rent of stories oft besung!
+  But of thy gentleness draw thou anear,
+  And then the heart of one who held thee dear
+  Mayst thou behold! So near as that I lay
+  Unto the singer of an empty day.
+
+    "For this he ever said, who sent me forth
+  To seek a place amid thy company;
+  That howsoever little was my worth,
+  Yet was he worth e'en just so much as I;
+  He said that rhyme hath little skill to lie:
+  Nor feigned to cast his worser part away
+  In idle singing for an empty day.
+
+    "I have beheld him tremble oft enough
+  At things he could not choose but trust to me,
+  Although he knew the world was wise and rough:
+  And never did he fail to let me see
+  His love,--his folly and faithlessness, may be;
+  And still in turn I gave him voice to pray
+  Such prayers as cling about an empty day.
+
+    "Thou, keen-eyed, reading me, mayst read him through,
+  For surely little is there left behind;
+  No power great deeds unnameable to do;
+  No knowledge for which words he may not find,
+  No love of things as vague as autumn wind--
+  --Earth of the earth lies hidden by my clay,
+  The idle singer of an empty day!
+
+    "Children we twain are, saith he, late made wise
+  In love, but in all else most childish still,
+  And seeking still the pleasure of our eyes,
+  And what our ears with sweetest sounds may fill;
+  Not fearing Love, lest these things he should kill;
+  Howe'er his pain by pleasure doth he lay,
+  Making a strange tale of an empty day.
+
+    "Death have we hated, knowing not what it meant;
+  Life have we loved, through green leaf and through sere,
+  Though still the less we knew of its intent:
+  The Earth and Heaven through countless year on year,
+  Slow changing, were to us but curtains fair,
+  Hung round about a little room, where play
+  Weeping and laughter of man's empty day.
+
+    "O Master, if thine heart could love us yet,
+  Spite of things left undone, and wrongly done,
+  Some place in loving hearts then should we get,
+  For thou, sweet-souled, didst never stand alone,
+  But knew'st the joy and woe of many an one--
+  --By lovers dead, who live through thee we pray,
+  Help thou us singers of an empty day!"
+
+    Fearest thou, Book, what answer thou mayst gain
+  Lest he should scorn thee, and thereof thou die?
+  Nay, it shall not be.--Thou mayst toil in vain,
+  And never draw the House of Fame anigh;
+  Yet he and his shall know whereof we cry,
+  Shall call it not ill done to strive to lay
+  The ghosts that crowd about life's empty day.
+
+    Then let the others go! and if indeed
+  In some old garden thou and I have wrought,
+  And made fresh flowers spring up from hoarded seed,
+  And fragrance of old days and deeds have brought
+  Back to folk weary; all was not for nought.
+  --No little part it was for me to play--
+  The idle singer of an empty day.
+
+
+
+
+  FROM "LOVE IS ENOUGH."
+
+  INTERLUDES.
+
+
+  1.
+
+  Love is enough; though the World be a-waning
+  And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining,
+    Though the sky be too dark for dim eyes to discover
+  The gold-cups and daisies fair blooming thereunder,
+  Though the hills be held shadows, and the sea a dark wonder,
+    And this day draw a veil over all deeds, passed over,
+  Yet their hands shall not tremble, their feet shall not falter;
+  The void shall not weary, the fear shall not alter
+    These lips and these eyes of the loved and the lover.
+
+
+  2.
+
+  Love is enough: it grew up without heeding
+    In the days when ye knew not its name nor its measure,
+    And its leaflets untrodden by the light feet of pleasure
+  Had no boast of the blossom, no sign of the seeding,
+    As the morning and evening passed over its treasure.
+
+  And what do ye say then?--that Spring long departed
+    Has brought forth no child to the softness and showers;
+    --That we slept and we dreamed through the Summer of flowers;
+  We dreamed of the Winter, and waking dead-hearted
+    Found Winter upon us and waste of dull hours.
+
+  Nay, Spring was o'er happy and knew not the reason,
+    And Summer dreamed sadly, for she thought all was ended
+    In her fulness of wealth that might not be amended;
+  But this is the harvest and the garnering season,
+    And the leaf and the blossom in the ripe fruit are blended.
+
+  It sprang without sowing, it grew without heeding,
+    Ye knew not its name and ye knew not its measure,
+    Ye noted it not mid your hope and your pleasure;
+  There was pain in its blossom, despair in its seeding,
+    But daylong your bosom now nurseth its treasure.
+
+
+  3.
+
+  Love is enough: draw near and behold me
+    Ye who pass by the way to your rest and your laughter,
+    And are full of the hope of the dawn coming after
+  For the strong of the world have bought me and sold me
+    And my house is all wasted from threshold to rafter.
+      --Pass by me, and hearken, and think of me not!
+
+  Cry out and come near; for my ears may not hearken,
+    And my eyes are grown dim as the eyes of the dying.
+    Is this the grey rack o'er the sun's face a-flying?
+  Or is it your faces his brightness that darken?
+    Comes a wind from the sea, or is it your sighing?
+      --Pass by me and hearken, and pity me not!
+
+  Ye know not how void is your hope and your living:
+    Depart with your helping lest yet ye undo me!
+    Ye know not that at nightfall she draweth near to me,
+  There is soft speech between us and words of forgiving
+    Till in dead of the midnight her kisses thrill through me.
+      --Pass by me and hearken, and waken me not!
+
+  Wherewith will ye buy it, ye rich who behold me?
+    Draw out from your coffers your rest and your laughter,
+    And the fair gilded hope of the dawn coming after!
+  Nay this I sell not,--though ye bought me and sold me,--
+    For your house stored with such things from threshold to rafter.
+      --Pass by me, I hearken, and think of you not!
+
+
+  4.
+
+  Love is enough: ho ye who seek saving,
+    Go no further; come hither; there have been who have found it,
+  And these know the House of Fulfilment of Craving;
+    These know the Cup with the roses around it;
+    These know the World's Wound and the balm that hath bound it:
+  Cry out, the World heedeth not, "Love, lead us home!"
+
+  He leadeth, He hearkeneth, He cometh to you-ward;
+    Set your faces as steel to the fears that assemble
+  Round his goad for the faint, and his scourge for the froward:
+    Lo! his lips, how with tales of last kisses they tremble!
+    Lo! his eyes of all sorrow that may not dissemble!
+  Cry out, for he heedeth, "O Love, lead us home!"
+
+  O hearken the words of his voice of compassion:
+    "Come cling round about me, ye faithful who sicken
+  Of the weary unrest and the world's passing fashion!
+    As the rain in mid-morning your troubles shall thicken,
+    But surely within you some Godhead doth quicken,
+  As ye cry to me heeding, and leading you home.
+
+  "Come--pain ye shall have, and be blind to the ending!
+    Come--fear ye shall have, mid the sky's overcasting!
+  Come--change ye shall have, for far are ye wending!
+    Come--no crown ye shall have for your thirst and your fasting,
+    But the kissed lips of Love and fair life everlasting!
+  Cry out, for one heedeth, who leadeth you home!"
+
+  Is he gone? was he with us?--ho ye who seek saving,
+    Go no further; come hither; for have we not found it?
+  Here is the House of Fulfilment of Craving;
+    Here is the Cup with the roses around it;
+    The World's Wound well healed, and the balm that hath bound it:
+  Cry out! for he heedeth, fair Love that led home.
+
+
+
+
+  FROM
+
+  "THE STORY OF SIGURD THE VOLSUNG."
+
+  BOOK II.
+
+  R E G I N.
+
+
+Now this is the first book of the life and death of Sigurd the Volsung,
+and therein is told of the birth of him, and of his dealings with Regin
+the master of masters, and of his deeds in the waste places of the
+earth.
+
+  _Of the birth of Sigurd the son of Sigmund._
+
+  Peace lay on the land of the Helper and the house of Elf his son;
+  There merry men went bedward when their tide of toil was done,
+  And glad was the dawn's awakening, and the noontide fair and glad:
+  There no great store had the franklin, and enough the hireling had;
+  And a child might go unguarded the length and breadth of the land
+  With a purse of gold at his girdle and gold rings on his hand.
+  'Twas a country of cunning craftsmen, and many a thing they wrought,
+  That the lands of storm desired, and the homes of warfare sought.
+  But men deemed it o'er-well warded by more than its stems of fight,
+  And told how its earth-born watchers yet lived of plenteous might.
+  So hidden was that country, and few men sailed its sea,
+  And none came o'er its mountains of men-folk's company.
+  But fair-fruited, many-peopled, it lies a goodly strip,
+  'Twixt the mountains cloudy-headed and the sea-flood's surging lip,
+  And a perilous flood is its ocean, and its mountains, who shall tell
+  What things in their dales deserted and their wind-swept heaths may dwell.
+  Now a man of the Kings, called Gripir, in this land of peace abode:
+  The son of the Helper's father, though never lay his load
+  In the womb of the mother of Kings that the Helper's brethren bore;
+  But of Giant kin was his mother, of the folk that are seen no more;
+  Though whiles as ye ride some fell-road across the heath there comes
+  The voice of their lone lamenting o'er their changed and conquered homes.
+  A long way off from the sea-strand and beneath the mountains' feet
+  Is the high-built hall of Gripir, where the waste and the tillage meet;
+  A noble and plentiful house, that a little men-folk fear,
+  But beloved of the crag-dwelling eagles and the kin of the woodland deer.
+  A man of few words was Gripir, but he knew of all deeds that had been,
+  And times there came upon him, when the deeds to be were seen:
+  No sword had he held in his hand since his father fell to field,
+  And against the life of the slayer he bore undinted shield:
+  Yet no fear in his heart abided, nor desired he aught at all,
+  But he noted the deeds that had been, and looked for what should befall.
+
+  Again, in the house of the Helper there dwelt a certain man
+  Beardless and low of stature, of visage pinched and wan:
+  So exceeding old was Regin, that no son of man could tell
+  In what year of the days passed over he came to that land to dwell;
+  But the youth of King Elf had he fostered, and the Helper's youth thereto,
+  Yes and his father's father's: the lore of all men he knew,
+  And was deft in every cunning, save the dealings of the sword:
+  So sweet was his tongue-speech fashioned, that men trowed his every word;
+  His hand with the harp-strings blended was the mingler of delight
+  With the latter days of sorrow; all tales he told aright;
+  The Master of the Masters in the smithying craft was he;
+  And he dealt with the wind and the weather and the stilling of the sea;
+  Nor might any learn him leech-craft, for before that race was made,
+  And that man-folk's generation, all their life-days had he weighed.
+
+  In this land abideth Hiordis amid all people's praise
+  Till cometh the time appointed: in the fulness of the days
+  Through the dark and the dusk she travailed, till at last in the dawning
+    hour
+  Have the deeds of the Volsungs blossomed, and born their latest flower;
+  In the bed there lieth a man child, and his eyes look straight on the sun,
+  And lo, the hope of the people, and the days of a king are begun.
+
+  Men say of the serving-women, when they cried on the joy of the morn,
+  When they handled the linen raiment, and washed the king new-born,
+  When they bore him back unto Hiordis, and the weary and happy breast,
+  And bade her be glad to behold it, how the best was sprung from the best,
+  Yet they shrank in their rejoicing before the eyes of the child,
+  So bright and dreadful were they; yea though the spring morn smiled,
+  And a thousand birds were singing round the fair familiar home,
+  And still as on other mornings they saw folk go and come,
+  Yet the hour seemed awful to them, and the hearts within them burned
+  As though of fateful matters their souls were newly learned.
+
+  But Hiordis looked on the Volsung, on her grief and her fond desire,
+  And the hope of her heart was quickened, and her joy was a living fire;
+  And she said: "Now one of the earthly on the eyes of my child hath gazed
+  Nor shrunk before their glory, nor stayed her love amazed:
+  I behold thee as Sigmund beholdeth,--and I was the home of thine heart--
+  Woe's me for the day when thou wert not, and the hour when we shall part!"
+
+  Then she held him a little season on her weary and happy breast
+  And she told him of Sigmund and Volsung and the best sprung forth from
+    the best:
+  She spake to the new-born baby as one who might understand,
+  And told him of Sigmund's battle, and the dead by the sea-flood's strand,
+  And of all the wars passed over, and the light with darkness blent.
+
+  So she spake, and the sun rose higher, and her speech at last was spent,
+  And she gave him back to the women to bear forth to the people's kings,
+  That they too may rejoice in her glory and her day of happy things.
+
+  But there sat the Helper of Men with King Elf and Earls in the hall,
+  And they spake of the deeds that had been, and told of the times to
+    befall,
+  And they hearkened and heard sweet voices and the sound of harps draw
+    nigh,
+  Till their hearts were exceeding merry and they knew not wherefore or
+    why:
+  Then, lo, in the hall white raiment, as thither the damsels came,
+  And amid the hands of the foremost was the woven gold aflame.
+
+  "O daughters of earls," said the Helper, "what tidings then do ye bear?
+  Is it grief in the merry morning, or joy or wonder or fear?"
+
+  Quoth the first: "It is grief for the foemen that the Masters of God-home
+    would grieve."
+
+  Said the next: "'Tis a wonder of wonders, that the hearkening world shall
+    believe."
+
+  "A fear of all fears," said the third, "for the sword is uplifted on men."
+
+  "A joy of all joys," said the fourth, "once come, it comes not again!"
+
+  "Lo, son," said the ancient Helper, "glad sit the earls and the lords!
+  Lookst thou not for a token of tidings to follow such-like words?"
+
+  Saith King Elf: "Great words of women! or great hath our dwelling become."
+
+  Said the women: "Words shall be greater, when all folk shall praise our
+    home."
+
+  "What then hath betid," said King Elf, "do the high Gods stand in our
+    gate?"
+
+  "Nay," said they, "else were we silent, and they should be telling of
+    fate."
+
+  "Is the bidding come," said the Helper, "that we wend the Gods to see?"
+
+  "Many summers and winters," they said, "ye shall live on the earth, it
+    may be."
+
+  Said a young man: "Will ye be telling that all we shall die no more?"
+
+  "Nay," they answered, "nay, who knoweth but the change may be hard at
+    the door?"
+
+  "Come ships from the sea," said an elder, "with all gifts of the
+    Eastland gold?"
+
+  "Was there less than enough," said the women, "when last our treasure
+    was told?"
+
+  "Speak then," said the ancient Helper, "let the worst and the best be
+    said."
+
+  Quoth they: "'Tis the Queen of the Isle-folk, she is weary-sick on her
+    bed."
+
+  Said King Elf: "Yet ye come rejoicing; what more lieth under the tongue?"
+
+  They said: "The earth is weary; but the tender blade hath sprung,
+  That shall wax till beneath its branches fair bloom the meadows green;
+  For the Gods and they that were mighty were glad erewhile with the Queen."
+
+  Said King Elf: "How say ye, women? Of a King new-born do ye tell
+  By a God of the Heavens begotten in our fathers' house to dwell?"
+
+  "By a God of the Earth," they answered; "but greater yet is the son,
+  Though long were the days of Sigmund, and great are the deeds he hath
+    done."
+
+  Then she with the golden burden to the kingly high-seat stepped
+  And away from the new-born baby the purple cloths she swept,
+  And cried: "O King of the people, long mayst thou live in bliss,
+  As our hearts to-day are happy! Queen Hiordis sends thee this,
+  And she saith that the world shall call it by the name that thou shalt
+    name;
+  Now the gift to thee is given, and to thee is brought the fame."
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+  Then e'en as a man astonied King Elf the Volsung took,
+  While his feast-hall's ancient timbers with the cry of the earl-folk
+    shook;
+  For the eyes of the child gleamed on him till he was as one who sees
+  The very Gods arising mid their carven images:
+  To his ears there came a murmur of far seas beneath the wind
+  And the tramp of fierce-eyed warriors through the outland forest blind;
+  The sound of hosts of battle, cries round the hoisted shield,
+  Low talk of the gathered wise-ones in the Goth-folk's holy field:
+  So the thought in a little moment through King Elf the Mighty ran
+  Of the years and their building and burden, and toil of the sons of man,
+  The joy of folk and their sorrow, and the hope of deeds to do:
+  With the love of many peoples was the wise king smitten through,
+  As he hung o'er the new-born Volsung: but at last he raised his head,
+  And looked forth kind o'er his people, and spake aloud and said:
+
+  "O Sigmund King of Battle; O man of many days,
+  Whom I saw mid the shields of the fallen and the dead men's silent praise,
+  Lo, how hath the dark tide perished and the dawn of day begun!
+  And now, O mighty Sigmund, wherewith shall we name thy son?"
+
+  But there rose up a man most ancient, and he cried: "Hail Dawn of the Day!
+  How many things shalt thou quicken, how many shalt thou slay!
+  How many things shalt thou waken, how many lull to sleep!
+  How many things shalt thou scatter, how many gather and keep!
+  O me, how thy love shall cherish, how thine hate shall wither and burn!
+  How the hope shall be sped from thy right hand, nor the fear to thy left
+    return!
+  O thy deeds that men shall sing of! O thy deeds that the Gods shall see!
+  O SIGURD, Son of the Volsungs, O Victory yet to be!"
+
+  Men heard the name and they knew it, and they caught it up in the air,
+  And it went abroad by the windows and the doors of the feast-hall fair,
+  It went through street and market; o'er meadow and acre it went,
+  And over the wind-stirred forest and the dearth of the sea-beat bent,
+  And over the sea-flood's welter, till the folk of the fishers heard,
+  And the hearts of the isle-abiders on the sun-scorched rocks were stirred.
+
+  But the Queen in her golden chamber, the name she hearkened and knew;
+  And she heard the flock of the women, as back to the chamber they drew,
+  And the name of Sigurd entered, and the body of Sigurd was come,
+  And it was as if Sigmund were living and she still in her lovely home;
+  Of all folk of the world was she well, and a soul fulfilled of rest
+  As alone in the chamber she wakened and Sigurd cherished her breast.
+
+  But men feast in the merry noontide, and glad is the April green
+  That a Volsung looks on the sunlight and the night and the darkness have
+    been.
+  Earls think of marvellous stories, and along the golden strings
+  Flit words of banded brethren and names of war-fain Kings:
+  All the days of the deeds of Sigmund who was born so long ago;
+  All deeds of the glorious Signy, and her tarrying-tide of woe;
+  Men tell of the years of Volsung, and how long agone it was
+  That he changed his life in battle, and brought the tale to pass:
+  Then goeth the word of the Giants, and the world seems waxen old
+  For the dimness of King Rerir and the tale of his warfare told:
+  Yet unhushed are the singers' voices, nor yet the harp-strings cease
+  While yet is left a rumour of the mirk-wood's broken peace,
+  And of Sigi the very ancient, and the unnamed Sons of God,
+  Of the days when the Lords of Heaven full oft the world-ways trod.
+
+  So stilleth the wind in the even and the sun sinks down in the sea,
+  And men abide the morrow and the Victory yet to be.
+
+
+    _Sigurd getteth to him the horse that is called Greyfell._
+
+  Now waxeth the son of Sigmund in might and goodliness,
+  And soft the days win over, and all men his beauty bless.
+  But amidst the summer season was the Isle-queen Hiordis wed
+  To King Elf the son of the Helper, and fair their life-days sped.
+  Peace lay on the land for ever, and the fields gave good increase,
+  And there was Sigurd waxing mid the plenty and the peace.
+
+  Now hath the child grown greater, and is keen and eager of wit
+  And full of understanding, and oft hath the joy to sit
+  Amid talk of weighty matters when the wise men meet for speech;
+  And joyous he is moreover and blithe and kind with each.
+  But Regin the wise craftsmaster heedeth the youngling well,
+  And before the Kings he cometh, and saith such words to tell.
+
+  "I have fostered thy youth, King Elf, and thine O Helper of men,
+  And ye wot that such a master no king shall see again;
+  And now would I foster Sigurd; for, though he be none of thy blood,
+  Mine heart of his days that shall be speaketh abundant good."
+
+  Then spake the Helper of men-folk: "Yea, do herein thy will:
+  For thou art the Master of Masters, and hast learned me all my skill:
+  But think how bright is this youngling, and thy guile from him withhold;
+  For this craft of thine hath shown me that thy heart is grim and cold,
+  Though three men's lives thrice over thy wisdom might not learn;
+  And I love this son of Sigmund, and mine heart to him doth yearn."
+
+  Then Regin laughed, and answered: "I doled out cunning to thee;
+  But nought with him will I measure: yet no cold-heart shall he be,
+  Nor grim, nor evil-natured: for whate'er my will might frame,
+  Gone forth is the word of the Norns, that abideth ever the same.
+  And now, despite my cunning, how deem ye I shall die?"
+
+  And they said he would live as he listed, and at last in peace should lie
+  When he listed to live no longer; so mighty and wise he was.
+  But again he laughed and answered: "One day it shall come to pass,
+  That a beardless youth shall slay me: I know the fateful doom;
+  But nought may I withstand it, as it heaves up dim through the gloom."
+
+  So is Sigurd now with Regin, and he learns him many things;
+  Yea, all save the craft of battle, that men learned the sons of kings:
+  The smithying sword and war-coat; the carving runes aright;
+  The tongues of many countries, and soft speech for men's delight;
+  The dealing with the harp-strings, and the winding ways of song.
+  So wise of heart waxed Sigurd, and of body wondrous strong:
+  And he chased the deer of the forest, and many a wood-wolf slew,
+  And many a bull of the mountains: and the desert dales he knew,
+  And the heaths that the wind sweeps over; and seaward would he fare,
+  Far out from the outer skerries, and alone the sea-wights dare.
+
+  On a day he sat with Regin amidst the unfashioned gold,
+  And the silver grey from the furnace; and Regin spake and told
+  Sweet tales of the days that have been, and the Kings of the bold and
+    wise;
+  Till the lad's heart swelled with longing and lit his sunbright eyes.
+
+  Then Regin looked upon him: "Thou too shalt one day ride
+  As the Volsung Kings went faring through the noble world and wide.
+  For this land is nought and narrow, and Kings of the carles are these,
+  And their earls are acre-biders, and their hearts are dull with peace."
+
+  But Sigurd knit his brows, and in wrathful wise he said:
+  "Ill words of those thou speakest that my youth have cherished,
+  And the friends that have made me merry, and the land that is fair and
+    good."
+
+  Then Regin laughed and answered: "Nay, well I see by thy mood
+  That wide wilt thou ride in the world like thy kin of the earlier days:
+  And wilt thou be wroth with thy master that he longs for thy winning the
+    praise?
+  And now if the sooth thou sayest, that these King-folk cherish thee well,
+  Then let them give thee a gift whereof the world shall tell:
+  Yea hearken to this my counsel, and crave for a battle-steed."
+
+  Yet wroth was the lad and answered: "I have many a horse to my need,
+  And all that the heart desireth, and what wouldst thou wish me more?"
+
+  Then Regin answered and said: "Thy kin of the Kings of yore
+  Were the noblest men of men-folk; and their hearts would never rest
+  Whatso of good they had gotten, if their hands held not the best.
+  Now do thou after my counsel, and crave of thy fosterers here
+  That thou choose of the horses of Gripir whichso thine heart holds dear."
+
+  He spake and his harp was with him, and he smote the strings full sweet,
+  And sang of the host of the Valkyrs, how they ride the battle to meet,
+  And the dew from the dear manes drippeth as they ride in the first of
+    the sun,
+  And the tree-boughs open to meet it when the wind of the dawning is done:
+  And the deep dales drink its sweetness and spring into blossoming grass,
+  And the earth groweth fruitful of men, and bringeth their glory to pass.
+
+  Then the wrath ran off from Sigurd, and he left the smithying stead
+  While the song yet rang in the doorway: and that eve to the Kings he said:
+  "Will ye do so much for mine asking as to give me a horse to my will?
+  For belike the days shall come, that shall all my heart fulfill,
+  And teach me the deeds of a king."
+                    Then answered King Elf and spake:
+  "The stalls of the Kings are before thee to set aside or to take,
+  And nought we begrudge thee the best."
+                           Yet answered Sigurd again;
+  For his heart of the mountains aloft and the windy drift was fain:
+  "Fair seats for the knees of Kings! but now do I ask for a gift
+  Such as all the world shall be praising, the best of the strong and
+    the swift.
+  Ye shall give me a token for Gripir, and bid him to let me choose
+  From out of the noble stud-beasts that run in his meadow loose.
+  But if overmuch I have asked you, forget this prayer of mine,
+  And deem the word unspoken, and get ye to the wine."
+
+  Then smiled King Elf, and answered: "A long way wilt thou ride,
+  To where unpeace and troubles and the griefs of the soul abide,
+  Yea unto the death at the last: yet surely shalt thou win
+  The praise of many a people: so have thy way herein.
+  Forsooth no more may we hold thee than the hazel copse may hold
+  The sun of the early dawning, that turneth it all unto gold."
+
+  Then sweetly Sigurd thanked them; and through the night he lay
+  Mid dreams of many a matter till the dawn was on the way;
+  Then he shook the sleep from off him, and that dwelling of Kings he left
+  And wended his ways unto Gripir. On a crag from the mountain reft
+  Was the house of the old King builded; and a mighty house it was,
+  Though few were the sons of men that over its threshold would pass:
+  But the wild ernes cried about it, and the vultures toward it flew,
+  And the winds from the heart of the mountains searched every chamber
+    through,
+  And about were meads wide-spreading; and many a beast thereon,
+  Yea some that are men-folk's terror, their sport and pasture won.
+  So into the hall went Sigurd; and amidst was Gripir set
+  In a chair of the sea-beast's tooth; and his sweeping beard nigh met
+  The floor that was green as the ocean, and his gown was of mountain-gold
+  And the kingly staff in his hand was knobbed with the crystal cold.
+
+  Now the first of the twain spake Gripir: "Hail King with the eyen bright!
+  Nought needest thou show the token, for I know of thy life and thy light.
+  And no need to tell of thy message; it was wafted here on the wind,
+  That thou wouldst be coming to-day a horse in my meadow to find:
+  And strong must he be for the bearing of those deeds of thine that shall
+    be.
+  Now choose thou of all the way-wearers that are running loose in my lea,
+  And be glad as thine heart will have thee and the fate that leadeth thee
+    on,
+  And I bid thee again come hither when the sword of worth is won,
+  And thy loins are girt for thy going on the road that before thee lies;
+  For a glimmering over its darkness is come before mine eyes."
+
+  Then again gat Sigurd outward, and adown the steep he ran
+  And unto the horse-fed meadow: but lo, a grey-clad man,
+  One-eyed and seeming-ancient, there met him by the way:
+  And he spake: "Thou hastest, Sigurd; yet tarry till I say
+  A word that shall well bestead thee: for I know of these mountains well
+  And all the lea of Gripir, and the beasts that thereon dwell."
+
+  "Wouldst thou have red gold for thy tidings? art thou Gripir's horse-herd
+    then?
+  Nay sure, for thy face is shining like battle-eager men
+  My master Regin tells of: and I love thy cloud-grey gown
+  And thy visage gleams above it like a thing my dreams have known."
+
+  "Nay whiles have I heeded the horse-kind," then spake that elder of days,
+  "And sooth do the sages say, when the beasts of my breeding they praise.
+  There is one thereof in the meadow, and, wouldst thou cull him out,
+  Thou shalt follow an elder's counsel, who hath brought strange things
+    about,
+  Who hath known thy father aforetime, and other kings of thy kin."
+
+  So Sigurd said, "I am ready; and what is the deed to win?"
+
+  He said: "We shall drive the horses adown to the water-side,
+  That cometh forth from the mountains, and note what next shall betide."
+
+  Then the twain sped on together, and they drave the horses on
+  Till they came to a rushing river a water wide and wan;
+  And the white mews hovered o'er it; but none might hear their cry
+  For the rush and the rattle of waters, as the downlong flood swept by.
+  So the whole herd took the river and strove the stream to stem,
+  And many a brave steed was there; but the flood o'ermastered them:
+  And some, it swept them down-ward, and some won back to bank,
+  Some, caught by the net of the eddies, in the swirling hubbub sank;
+  But one of all swam over, and they saw his mane of grey
+  Toss over the flowery meadows, a bright thing far away:
+  Wide then he wheeled about them, then took the stream again
+  And with the waves' white horses mingled his cloudy mane.
+
+  Then spake the elder of days: "Hearken now, Sigurd, and hear;
+  Time was when I gave thy father a gift thou shalt yet deem dear,
+  And this horse is a gift of my giving:--heed nought where thou mayst ride:
+  For I have seen thy fathers in a shining house abide,
+  And on earth they thought of its threshold, and the gifts I had to give;
+  Nor prayed for a little longer, and a little longer to live."
+
+  Then forth he strode to the mountains, and fain was Sigurd now
+  To ask him many a matter: but dim did his bright shape grow,
+  As a man from the litten doorway fades into the dusk of night;
+  And the sun in the high-noon shone, and the world was exceeding bright.
+
+  So Sigurd turned to the river and stood by the wave-wet strand,
+  And the grey horse swims to his feet and lightly leaps aland,
+  And the youngling looks upon him, and deems none beside him good.
+  And indeed, as tells the story, he was come of Sleipnir's blood,
+  The tireless horse of Odin: cloud-grey he was of hue,
+  And it seemed as Sigurd backed him that Sigmund's son he knew,
+  So glad he went beneath him. Then the youngling's song arose
+  As he brushed through the noon-tide blossoms of Gripir's mighty close,
+  Then he singeth the song of Greyfell, the horse that Odin gave,
+  Who swam through the sweeping river, and back through the toppling wave.
+
+
+    _Regin telleth Sigurd of his kindred, and of the Gold that was
+      accursed from ancient days._
+
+  Now yet the days pass over, and more than words may tell
+  Grows Sigurd strong and lovely, and all children love him well.
+  But oft he looks on the mountains and many a time is fain
+  To know of what lies beyond them, and learn of the wide world's gain.
+  And he saith: "I dwell in a land that is ruled by none of my blood;
+  And my mother's sons are waxing, and fair kings shall they be and good;
+  And their servant or their betrayer--not one of these will I be.
+  Yet needs must I wait for a little till Odin calls for me."
+
+  Now again it happed on a day that he sat in Regin's hall
+  And hearkened many tidings of what had chanced to fall,
+  And of kings that sought their kingdoms o'er many a waste and wild,
+  And at last saith the crafty master:
+                         "Thou art King Sigmund's child:
+  Wilt thou wait till these kings of the carles shall die in a little land,
+  Or wilt thou serve their sons and carry the cup to their hand;
+  Or abide in vain for the day that never shall come about,
+  When their banners shall dance in the wind and shake to the war-gods'
+    shout?"
+
+  Then Sigurd answered and said: "Nought such do I look to be.
+  But thou, a deedless man, too much thou eggest me:
+  And these folk are good and trusty, and the land is lovely and sweet,
+  And in rest and in peace it lieth as the floor of Odin's feet:
+  Yet I know that the world is wide, and filled with deeds unwrought;
+  And for e'en such work was I fashioned, lest the song-craft come to
+    nought,
+  When the harps of God-home tinkle, and the Gods are at stretch to
+    hearken;
+  Lest the hosts of the Gods be scanty when their day hath begun to darken,
+  When the bonds of the Wolf wax thin, and Loki fretteth his chain.
+  And sure for the house of my fathers full oft my heart is fain,
+  And meseemeth I hear them talking of the day when I shall come,
+  And of all the burden of deeds, that my hand shall bear them home.
+  And so when the deed is ready, nowise the man shall lack:
+  But the wary foot is the surest, and the hasty oft turns back."
+
+  Then answered Regin the guileful: "The deed is ready to hand,
+  Yet holding my peace is the best, for well thou lovest the land;
+  And thou lovest thy life moreover, and the peace of thy youthful days,
+  And why should the full-fed feaster his hand to the rye-bread raise?
+  Yet they say that Sigmund begat thee and he looked to fashion a man.
+  Fear nought; he lieth quiet in his mound by the sea-waves wan."
+
+  So shone the eyes of Sigurd, that the shield against him hung
+  Cast back their light as the sunbeams; but his voice to the roof-tree
+    rung:
+  "Tell me, thou Master of Masters, what deed is the deed I shall do?
+  Nor mock thou the son of Sigmund lest the day of his birth thou rue."
+
+  Then answered the Master of Sleight: "The deed is the righting of wrong,
+  And the quelling a bale and a sorrow that the world hath endured o'erlong,
+  And the winning a treasure untold, that shall make thee more than the
+    kings;
+  Thereof is the Helm of Aweing, the wonder of earthly things,
+  And thereof is its very fellow, the War-coat all of gold,
+  That has not its like in the heavens, nor has earth of its fellow told."
+
+  Then answered Sigurd the Volsung: "How long hereof hast thou known?
+  And what unto thee is this treasure, that thou seemest to give as thine
+    own?"
+
+  "Alas!" quoth the smithying master, "it is mine, yet none of mine
+  Since my heart herein avails not, and my hand is frail and fine--
+  It is long since I first came hither to seek a man for my need;
+  For I saw by a glimmering light that hence would spring the deed,
+  And many a deed of the world: but the generations passed,
+  And the first of the days was as near to the end that I sought as the
+    last;
+  Till I looked on thine eyes in the cradle: and now I deem through thee,
+  That the end of my days of waiting, and the end of my woes shall be."
+
+  Then Sigurd awhile was silent; but at last he answered and said:
+  "Thou shalt have thy will and the treasure, and shalt take the curse on
+    thine head
+  If a curse the gold enwrappeth: but the deed will I surely do,
+  For to-day the dreams of my childhood have bloomed in my heart anew:
+  And I long to look on the world and the glory of the earth
+  And to deal in the dealings of men, and garner the harvest of worth.
+  But tell me, thou Master of Masters, where lieth this measureless wealth;
+  Is it guarded by swords of the earl-folk, or kept by cunning and stealth?
+  Is it over the main sea's darkness, or beyond the mountain wall?
+  Or e'en in these peaceful acres anigh to the hands of all?"
+
+  Then Regin answered sweetly: "Hereof must a tale be told:
+  Bide sitting, thou son of Sigmund, on the heap of unwrought gold,
+  And hearken of wondrous matters, and of things unheard, unsaid,
+  And deeds of my beholding ere the first of Kings was made.
+
+  "And first ye shall know of a sooth, that I never was born of the race
+  Which the masters of God-home have made to cover the fair earth's face;
+  But I come of the Dwarfs departed; and fair was the earth whileome
+  Ere the short-lived thralls of the Gods amidst its dales were come:--
+  And how were we worse than the Gods, though maybe we lived not as long?
+  Yet no weight of memory maimed us; nor aught we knew of wrong.
+  What felt our souls of shaming, what knew our hearts of love?
+  We did and undid at pleasure, and repented nought thereof.
+  --Yea we were exceeding mighty--bear with me yet, my son;
+  For whiles can I scarcely think it that our days are wholly done.
+  And trust not thy life in my hands in the day when most I seem
+  Like the Dwarfs that are long departed, and most of my kindred I dream.
+
+  "So as we dwelt came tidings that the Gods amongst us were,
+  And the people come from Asgard: then rose up hope and fear,
+  And strange shapes of things went flitting betwixt the night and the eve,
+  And our sons waxed wild and wrathful, and our daughters learned to grieve.
+  Then we fell to the working of metal, and the deeps of the earth would
+    know,
+  And we dealt with venom and leechcraft, and we fashioned spear and bow,
+  And we set the ribs to the oak-keel, and looked on the landless sea;
+  And the world began to be such-like as the Gods would have it to be.
+  In the womb of the woeful Earth had they quickened the grief and the gold.
+
+  "It was Reidmar the Ancient begat me; and now was he waxen old,
+  And a covetous man and a king; and he bade, and I built him a hall,
+  And a golden glorious house; and thereto his sons did he call,
+  And he bade them be evil and wise, that his will through them might be
+    wrought.
+  Then he gave unto Fafnir my brother the soul that feareth nought,
+  And the brow of the hardened iron, and the hand that may never fail,
+  And the greedy heart of a king, and the ear that hears no wail.
+
+  "But next unto Otter my brother he gave the snare and the net
+  And the longing to wend through the wild-wood, and wade the highways wet:
+  And the foot that never resteth, while aught be left alive
+  That hath cunning to match man's cunning or might with his might to
+    strive.
+
+  "And to me, the least and the youngest, what gift for the slaying of ease?
+  Save the grief that remembers the past, and the fear that the future sees;
+  And the hammer and fashioning-iron, and the living coal of fire;
+  And the craft that createth a semblance, and fails of the heart's desire;
+  And the toil that each dawning quickens and the task that is never done,
+  And the heart that longeth ever, nor will look to the deed that is won.
+
+  "Thus gave my father the gifts that might never be taken again;
+  Far worse were we now than the Gods, and but little better than men.
+  But yet of our ancient might one thing had we left us still:
+  We had craft to change our semblance, and could shift us at our will
+  Into bodies of the beast-kind, or fowl, or fishes cold;
+  For belike no fixed semblance we had in the days of old,
+  Till the Gods were waxen busy, and all things their form must take
+  That knew of good and evil, and longed to gather and make.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+  "So dwelt we, brethren and father; and Fafnir my brother fared
+  As the scourge and compeller of all things, and left no wrong undared;
+  But for me, I toiled and I toiled; and fair grew my father's house;
+  But writhen and foul were the hands that had made it glorious;
+  And the love of women left me, and the fame of sword and shield:
+  And the sun and the winds of heaven, and the fowl and the grass of the
+    field
+  Were grown as the tools of my smithy; and all the world I knew,
+  And the glories that lie beyond it, and whitherward all things drew;
+  And myself a little fragment amidst it all I saw,
+  Grim, cold-heart, and unmighty as the tempest-driven straw.
+  --Let be.--For Otter my brother saw seldom field or fold,
+  And he oftenest used that custom, whereof e'en now I told,
+  And would shift his shape with the wood-beasts and the things of land
+    and sea;
+  And he knew what joy their hearts had, and what they longed to be,
+  And their dim-eyed understanding, and his wood-craft waxed so great,
+  That he seemed the king of the creatures and their very mortal fate.
+
+  "Now as the years won over three folk of the heavenly halls
+  Grew aweary of sleepless sloth, and the day that nought befalls;
+  And they fain would look on the earth, and their latest handiwork,
+  And turn the fine gold over, lest a flaw therein should lurk.
+  And the three were the heart-wise Odin, the Father of the Slain,
+  And Loki, the World's Begrudger, who maketh all labour vain,
+  And Hænir, the Utter-Blameless, who wrought the hope of man,
+  And his heart and inmost yearnings, when first the work began;--
+  --The God that was aforetime, and hereafter yet shall be
+  When the new light yet undreamed of shall shine o'er earth and sea.
+
+  "Thus about the world they wended and deemed it fair and good,
+  And they loved their life-days dearly: so came they to the wood,
+  And the lea without a shepherd and the dwellings of the deer,
+  And unto a mighty water that ran from a fathomless mere.
+  Now that flood my brother Otter had haunted many a day
+  For its plenteous fruit of fishes; and there on the bank he lay
+  As the Gods came wandering thither; and he slept, and in his dreams
+  He saw the downlong river, and its fishy-peopled streams,
+  And the swift smooth heads of its forces, and its swirling wells and deep,
+  Where hang the poisèd fishes, and their watch in the rock-halls keep.
+  And so, as he thought of it all, and its deeds and its wanderings,
+  Whereby it ran to the sea down the road of scaly things,
+  His body was changed with his thought, as yet was the wont of our kind,
+  And he grew but an Otter indeed; and his eyes were sleeping and blind
+  The while he devoured the prey, a golden red-flecked trout.
+  Then passed by Odin and Hænir, nor cumbered their souls with doubt;
+  But Loki lingered a little, and guile in his heart arose,
+  And he saw through the shape of the Otter, and beheld a chief of his foes,
+  A king of the free and the careless: so he called up his baleful might,
+  And gathered his godhead together, and tore a shard outright
+  From the rock-wall of the river, and across its green wells cast;
+  And roaring over the waters that bolt of evil passed,
+  And smote my brother Otter that his heart's life fled away,
+  And bore his man's shape with it, and beast-like there he lay,
+  Stark dead on the sun-lit blossoms: but the Evil God rejoiced,
+  And because of the sound of his singing the wild grew many-voiced.
+
+  "Then the three Gods waded the river, and no word Hænir spake,
+  For his thoughts were set on God-home, and the day that is ever awake.
+  But Odin laughed in his wrath, and murmured: 'Ah, how long,
+  Till the iron shall ring on the anvil for the shackles of thy wrong!'
+
+  "Then Loki takes up the quarry, and is e'en as a man again;
+  And the three wend on through the wild-wood till they come to a grassy
+    plain
+  Beneath the untrodden mountains; and lo! a noble house,
+  And a hall with great craft fashioned, and made full glorious;
+  But night on the earth was falling; so scantly might they see
+  The wealth of its smooth-wrought stonework and its world of imagery:
+  Then Loki bade turn thither since day was at an end,
+  And into that noble dwelling the lords of God-home wend;
+  And the porch was fair and mighty, and so smooth-wrought was its gold,
+  That the mirrored stars of heaven therein might ye behold:
+  But the hall, what words shall tell it, how fair it rose aloft,
+  And the marvels of its windows, and its golden hangings soft,
+  And the forest of its pillars! and each like the wave's heart shone
+  And the mirrored boughs of the garden were dancing fair thereon.
+  --Long years agone was it builded, and where are its wonders now?
+
+  "Now the men of God-home marvelled, and gazed through the golden glow,
+  And a man like a covetous king amidst of the hall they saw;
+  And his chair was the tooth of the whale, wrought smooth with never a
+    flaw;
+  And his gown was the sea-born purple, and he bore a crown on his head,
+  But never a sword was before him: kind-seeming words he said,
+  And bade rest to the weary feet that had worn the wild so long.
+  So they sat, and were men by seeming; and there rose up music and song,
+  And they ate and drank and were merry: but amidst the glee of the cup
+  They felt themselves tangled and caught, as when the net cometh up
+  Before the folk of the 'firth, and the main sea lieth far off;
+  And the laughter of lips they hearkened, and that hall-abider's scoff,
+  As his face and his mocking eyes anigh to their faces drew,
+  And their godhead was caught in the net, and no shift of creation they
+    knew
+  To escape from their man-like bodies; so great that day was the Earth.
+
+  "Then spake the hall-abider: 'Where then is thy guileful mirth,
+  And thy hall-glee gone, O Loki? Come, Hænir, fashion now
+  My heart for love and for hope, that the fear in my body may grow,
+  That I may grieve and be sorry, that the ruth may arise in me,
+  As thou dealtst with the first of men-folk, when a master-smith thou
+    wouldst be.
+  And thou, Allfather Odin, hast thou come on a bastard brood?
+  Or hadst thou belike a brother, thy twin for evil and good,
+  That waked amidst thy slumber, and slumbered midst thy work?
+  Nay, Wise-one, art thou silent as a child amidst the mirk?
+  Ah, I know ye are called the Gods, and are mighty men at home,
+  But now with a guilt on your heads to no feeble folk are ye come,
+  To a folk that need you nothing: time was when we knew you not:
+  Yet e'en then fresh was the winter, and the summer sun was hot,
+  And the wood-meats stayed our hunger, and the water quenched our thirst,
+  Ere the good and the evil wedded and begat the best and the worst.
+  And how if to-day I undo it, that work of your fashioning,
+  If the web of the world run backward, and the high heavens lack a King?
+  --Woe's me! for your ancient mastery shall help you at your need:
+  If ye fill up the gulf of my longing and my empty heart of greed,
+  And slake the flame ye have quickened, then may ye go your ways
+  And get ye back to your kingship and the driving on of the days
+  To the day of the gathered war-hosts, and the tide of your Fateful Gloom.
+  Now nought may ye gainsay it that my mouth must speak the doom,
+  For ye wot well I am Reidmar, and that there ye lie red-hand
+  From the slaughtering of my offspring, and the spoiling of my land;
+  For his death of my wold hath bereft me and every highway wet.
+  --Nay, Loki, naught avails it, well-fashioned is the net.
+  Come forth, my son, my war-god, and show the Gods their work,
+  And thou who mightst learn e'en Loki, if need were to lie or lurk!'
+
+  "And there was I, I Regin, the smithier of the snare,
+  And high up Fafnir towered with the brow that knew no fear,
+  With the wrathful and pitiless heart that was born of my father's will,
+  And the greed that the Gods had fashioned the fate of the earth to
+    fulfill.
+
+  "Then spake the Father of Men: 'We have wrought thee wrong indeed,
+  And, wouldst thou amend it with wrong, thine errand must we speed;
+  For I know of thine heart's desire, and the gold thou shalt nowise lack,
+  --Nor all the works of the gold. But best were thy word drawn back,
+  If indeed the doom of the Norns be not utterly now gone forth.'
+
+  "Then Reidmar laughed and answered: 'So much is thy word of worth!
+  And they call thee Odin for this, and stretch forth hands in vain,
+  And pray for the gifts of a God who giveth and taketh again!
+  It was better in times past over, when we prayed for nought at all,
+  When no love taught us beseeching, and we had no troth to recall.
+  Ye have changed the world, and it bindeth with the right and the wrong
+    ye have made,
+  Nor may ye be Gods henceforward save the rightful ransom be paid.
+  But perchance ye are weary of kingship, and will deal no more with the
+    earth?
+  Then curse the world, and depart, and sit in your changeless mirth;
+  And there shall be no more kings, and battle and murder shall fail,
+  And the world shall laugh and long not, nor weep, nor fashion the tale.'
+
+  "So spake Reidmar the Wise; but the wrath burned through his word,
+  And wasted his heart of wisdom; and there was Fafnir the Lord,
+  And there was Regin the Wright, and they raged at their father's back:
+  And all these cried out together with the voice of the sea-storm's wrack;
+  'O hearken, Gods of the Goths! ye shall die, and we shall be Gods,
+  And rule your men belovèd with bitter-heavy rods,
+  And make them beasts beneath us, save to-day ye do our will,
+  And pay us the ransom of blood, and our hearts with the gold fulfill.'
+
+  "But Odin spake in answer, and his voice was awful and cold:
+  'Give righteous doom, O Reidmar! say what ye will of the Gold!'
+
+  "Then Reidmar laughed in his heart, and his wrath and his wisdom fled,
+  And nought but his greed abided; and he spake from his throne and said:
+
+  "'Now hearken the doom I shall speak! Ye stranger-folk shall be free
+  When ye give me the Flame of the Waters, the gathered Gold of the Sea,
+  That Andvari hideth rejoicing in the wan realm pale as the grave;
+  And the Master of Sleight shall fetch it, and the hand that never gave,
+  And the heart that begrudgeth for ever shall gather and give and rue.
+  --Lo! this is the doom of the wise, and no doom shall be spoken anew.'
+
+  "Then Odin spake: 'It is well; the Curser shall seek for the curse;
+  And the Greedy shall cherish the evil--and the seed of the Great they
+    shall nurse.'
+
+  "No word spake Reidmar the great, for the eyes of his heart were turned
+  To the edge of the outer desert, so sore for the gold he yearned.
+  But Loki I loosed from the toils, and he goeth his ways abroad;
+  And the heart of Odin he knoweth, and where he shall seek the Hoard.
+
+  "There is a desert of dread in the uttermost part of the world,
+  Where over a wall of mountains is a mighty water hurled,
+  Whose hidden head none knoweth, nor where it meeteth the sea;
+  And that force is the Force of Andvari, and an Elf of the Dark is he.
+  In the cloud and the desert he dwelleth amid that land alone;
+  And his work is the storing of treasure within his house of stone.
+  Time was when he knew of wisdom, and had many a tale to tell
+  Of the days before the Dwarf-age, and of what in that world befell:
+  And he knew of the stars and the sun, and the worlds that come and go
+  On the nether rim of heaven, and whence the wind doth blow,
+  And how the sea hangs balanced betwixt the curving lands,
+  And how all drew together for the first Gods' fashioning hands.
+  But now is all gone from him, save the craft of gathering gold,
+  And he heedeth nought of the summer, nor knoweth the winter cold,
+  Nor looks to the sun nor the snowfall, nor ever dreams of the sea,
+  Nor hath heard of the making of men-folk, nor of where the high Gods be:
+  But ever he gripeth and gathereth, and he toileth hour by hour
+  Nor knoweth the noon from the midnight as he looks on his stony bower,
+  And saith: 'It is short, it is narrow for all I shall gather and get;
+  For the world is but newly fashioned, and long shall its years be yet.'
+
+  "There Loki fareth, and seeth in a land of nothing good,
+  Far off o'er the empty desert, the reek of the falling flood
+  Go up to the floor of heaven, and thither turn his feet
+  As he weaveth the unseen meshes and the snare of strong deceit;
+  So he cometh his ways to the water, where the glittering foam-bow glows,
+  And the huge flood leaps the rock-wall and a green arch over it throws.
+  There under the roof of water he treads the quivering floor,
+  And the hush of the desert is felt amid the water's roar,
+  And the bleak sun lighteth the wave-vault, and tells of the fruitless
+    plain,
+  And the showers that nourish nothing, and the summer come in vain.
+
+  "There did the great Guile-master his toils and his tangles set,
+  And as wide as was the water, so wide was woven the net;
+  And as dim as the Elf's remembrance did the meshes of it show;
+  And he had no thought of sorrow, nor spared to come and go
+  On his errands of griping and getting till he felt himself tangled and
+    caught:
+  Then back to his blinded soul was his ancient wisdom brought,
+  And he saw his fall and his ruin, as a man by the lightning's flame
+  Sees the garth all flooded by foemen; and again he remembered his name;
+  And e'en as a book well written the tale of the Gods he knew,
+  And the tale of the making of men, and much of the deeds they should do.
+
+  "But Loki took his man-shape, and laughed aloud and cried:
+  'What fish of the ends of the earth is so strong and so feeble-eyed,
+  That he draweth the pouch of my net on his road to the dwelling of Hell?
+  What Elf that hath heard the gold growing, but hath heard not the light
+    winds tell
+  That the Gods with the world have been dealing and have fashioned men
+    for the earth?
+  Where is he that hath ridden the cloud-horse and measured the ocean's
+    girth,
+  But seen nought of the building of God-home nor the forging of the sword:
+  Where then is the maker of nothing, the earless and eyeless lord?
+  In the pouch of my net he lieth, with his head on the threshold of Hell!'
+
+  "Then the Elf lamented, and said: 'Thou knowst of my name full well:
+  Andvari begotten of Oinn, whom the Dwarf-kind called the Wise,
+  By the worst of the Gods is taken, the forge and the father of lies.'
+
+  "Said Loki: 'How of the Elf-kind, do they love their latter life,
+  When their weal is all departed, and they lie alow in the strife?'
+
+  "Then Andvari groaned and answered: 'I know what thou wouldst have,
+  The wealth mine own hands gathered, the gold that no man gave.'
+
+  "'Come forth,' said Loki, 'and give it, and dwell in peace henceforth--
+  Or die in the toils if thou listest, if thy life be nothing worth.'
+
+  "Full sore the Elf lamented, but he came before the God
+  And the twain went into the rock-house and on fine gold they trod,
+  And the walls shone bright, and brighter than the sun of the upper air.
+  How great was that treasure of treasures: and the Helm of Dread was there;
+  The world but in dreams had seen it; and there was the hauberk of gold;
+  None other is in the heavens, nor has earth of its fellow told.
+
+  "Then Loki bade the Elf-king bring all to the upper day,
+  And he dight himself with his Godhead to bear the treasure away:
+  So there in the dim grey desert, before the God of Guile,
+  Great heaps of the hid-world's treasure the weary Elf must pile,
+  And Loki looked on laughing: but, when it all was done,
+  And the Elf was hurrying homeward, his finger gleamed in the sun:
+  Then Loki cried: 'Thou art guileful: thou hast not learned the tale
+  Of the wisdom that Gods have gotten and their might of all avail.
+  Hither to me! that I learn thee of a many things to come;
+  Or despite of all wilt thou journey to the dead man's deedless home.
+  Come hither again to thy master, and give the ring to me;
+  For meseems it is Loki's portion, and the Bale of Men shall it be.'
+
+  "Then the Elf drew off the gold-ring and stood with empty hand
+  E'en where the flood fell over 'twixt the water and the land,
+  And he gazed on the great Guile-master, and huge and grim he grew;
+  And his anguish swelled within him, and the word of the Norns he knew;
+  How that gold was the seed of gold to the wise and the shapers of things,
+  The hoarders of hidden treasure, and the unseen glory of rings;
+  But the seed of woe to the world and the foolish wasters of men,
+  And grief to the generations that die and spring again:
+  Then he cried:
+                 'There farest thou, Loki, and might I load thee worse
+  Than with what thine ill heart beareth, then shouldst thou bear my curse:
+  But for men a curse thou bearest: entangled in my gold,
+  Amid my woe abideth another woe untold.
+  Two brethren and a father, eight kings my grief shall slay;
+  And the hearts of queens shall be broken, and their eyes shall loathe
+    the day.
+  Lo, how the wilderness blossoms! Lo, how the lonely lands
+  Are waving with the harvest that fell from my gathering hands!'
+
+  "But Loki laughed in silence, and swift in Godhead went,
+  To the golden hall of Reidmar and the house of our content.
+  But when that world of treasure was laid within our hall
+  'Twas as if the sun were minded to live 'twixt wall and wall,
+  And all we stood by and panted. Then Odin spake and said:
+
+  "'O Kings, O folk of the Dwarf-kind, lo, the ransom duly paid!
+  Will ye have this sun of the ocean, and reap the fruitful field,
+  And garner up the harvest that earth therefrom shall yield?'
+
+  "So he spake; but a little season nought answered Reidmar the wise
+  But turned his face from the Treasure, and peered with eager eyes
+  Endlong the hall and athwart it, as a man may chase about
+  A ray of the sun of the morning that a naked sword throws out;
+  And lo! from Loki's right-hand came the flash of the fruitful ring,
+  And at last spake Reidmar scowling:
+                            'Ye wait for my yea-saying
+  That your feet may go free on the earth, and the fear of my toils may
+    be done;
+  That then ye may say in your laughter: The fools of the time agone!
+  The purblind eyes of the Dwarf-kind! they have gotten the garnered sheaf
+  And have let their Masters depart with the Seed of Gold and of Grief:
+  O Loki, friend of Allfather, cast down Andvari's Ring,
+  Or the world shall yet turn backward and the high heavens lack a king.'
+
+  "Then Loki drew off the Elf-ring and cast it down on the heap,
+  And forth as the gold met gold did the light of its glory leap:
+  But he spake: 'It rejoiceth my heart that no whit of all ye shall lack,
+  Lest the curse of the Elf-king cleave not, and ye 'scape the utter wrack.'
+
+  "Then laughed and answered Reidmar: 'I shall have it while I live,
+  And that shall be long, meseemeth: for who is there may strive
+  With my sword, the war-wise Fafnir, and my shield that is Regin the Smith?
+  But if indeed I should die, then let men-folk deal therewith,
+  And ride to the golden glitter through evil deeds and good.
+  I will have my heart's desire, and do as the high Gods would.'
+
+  "Then I loosed the Gods from their shackles, and great they grew on
+    the floor
+  And into the night they gat them; but Odin turned by the door,
+  And we looked not, little we heeded, for we grudged his mastery;
+  Then he spake, and his voice was waxen as the voice of the winter sea:
+
+  "'O Kings, O folk of the Dwarfs, why then will ye covet and rue?
+  I have seen your fathers' fathers and the dust wherefrom they grew;
+  But who hath heard of my father or the land where first I sprung?
+  Who knoweth my day of repentance, or the year when I was young?
+  Who hath learned the names of the Wise-one or measured out his will?
+  Who hath gone before to teach him, and the doom of days fulfill?
+  Lo, I look on the Curse of the Gold, and wrong amended by wrong,
+  And love by love confounded, and the strong abased by the strong;
+  And I order it all and amend it, and the deeds that are done I see,
+  And none other beholdeth or knoweth; and who shall be wise unto me?
+  For myself to myself I offered, that all wisdom I might know,
+  And fruitful I waxed of works, and good and fair did they grow;
+  And I knew, and I wrought and fore-ordered; and evil sat by my side,
+  And myself by myself hath been doomed, and I look for the fateful tide;
+  And I deal with the generations, and the men mine hand hath made,
+  And myself by myself shall be grieved, lest the world and its fashioning
+    fade.'
+
+  "They went and the Gold abided: but the words Allfather spake,
+  I call them back full often for that golden even's sake,
+  Yet little that hour I heard them, save as wind across the lea;
+  For the gold shone up on Reidmar and on Fafnir's face and on me.
+  And sore I loved that treasure: so I wrapped my heart in guile,
+  And sleeked my tongue with sweetness, and set my face in a smile,
+  And I bade my father keep it, the more part of the gold,
+  Yet give good store to Fafnir for his goodly help and bold,
+  And deal me a little handful for my smithying-help that day.
+  But no little I desired, though for little I might pray;
+  And prayed I for much or for little, he answered me no more
+  Than the shepherd answers the wood-wolf who howls at the yule-tide door:
+  But good he ever deemed it to sit on his ivory throne,
+  And stare on the red rings' glory, and deem he was ever alone:
+  And never a word spake Fafnir, but his eyes waxed red and grim
+  As he looked upon our father, and noted the ways of him.
+
+  "The night waned into the morning, and still above the Hoard
+  Sat Reidmar clad in purple; but Fafnir took his sword,
+  And I took my smithying-hammer, and apart in the world we went;
+  But I came aback in the even, and my heart was heavy and spent;
+  And I longed, but fear was upon me and I durst not go to the Gold;
+  So I lay in the house of my toil mid the things I had fashioned of old;
+  And methought as I lay in my bed 'twixt waking and slumber of night
+  That I heard the tinkling metal and beheld the hall alight,
+  But I slept and dreamed of the Gods, and the things that never have slept,
+  Till I woke to a cry and a clashing and forth from the bed I leapt,
+  And there by the heaped-up Elf-gold my brother Fafnir stood,
+  And there at his feet lay Reidmar and reddened the Treasure with blood;
+  And e'en as I looked on his eyen they glazed and whitened with death,
+  And forth on the torch-litten hall he shed his latest breath.
+
+  "But I looked on Fafnir and trembled for he wore the Helm of Dread,
+  And his sword was bare in his hand, and the sword and the hand were red
+  With the blood of our father Reidmar, and his body was wrapped in gold,
+  With the ruddy-gleaming mailcoat of whose fellow hath nought been told,
+  And it seemed as I looked upon him that he grew beneath mine eyes:
+  And then in the mid-hall's silence did his dreadful voice arise:
+
+  "'I have slain my father Reidmar, that I alone might keep
+  The Gold of the darksome places, the Candle of the Deep.
+  I am such as the Gods have made me, lest the Dwarf-kind people the earth,
+  Or mingle their ancient wisdom with its short-lived latest birth.
+  I shall dwell alone henceforward, and the Gold and its waxing curse,
+  I shall brood on them both together, let my life grow better or worse.
+  And I am a King henceforward and long shall be my life,
+  And the Gold shall grow with my longing, for I shall hide it from strife,
+  And hoard up the Ring of Andvari in the house thine hand hath built.
+  O thou, wilt thou tarry and tarry, till I cast thy blood on the guilt?
+  Lo, I am a King for ever, and alone on the Gold shall I dwell
+  And do no deed to repent of and leave no tale to tell.'
+
+  "More awful grew his visage as he spake the word of dread
+  And no more durst I behold him, but with heart a-cold I fled;
+  I fled from the glorious house my hands had made so fair,
+  As poor as the new-born baby with nought of raiment or gear:
+  I fled from the heaps of gold, and my goods were the eager will,
+  And the heart that remembereth all, and the hand that may never be still.
+
+  "Then unto this land I came, and that was long ago
+  As men-folk count the years; and I taught them to reap and to sow,
+  And a famous man I became: but that generation died,
+  And they said that Frey had taught them, and a God my name did hide.
+  Then I taught them the craft of metals, and the sailing of the sea,
+  And the taming of the horse-kind, and the yoke-beasts' husbandry,
+  And the building up of houses; and that race of men went by,
+  And they said that Thor had taught them; and a smithying-carle was I.
+  Then I gave their maidens the needle and I bade them hold the rock,
+  And the shuttle-race gaped for them as they sat at the weaving-stock.
+  But by then these were waxen crones to sit dim-eyed by the door,
+  It was Freyia had come among them to teach the weaving-lore.
+
+  "Then I taught them the tales of old, and fair songs fashioned and true,
+  And their speech grew into music of measured time and due,
+  And they smote the harp to my bidding, and the land grew soft and sweet:
+  But ere the grass of their grave-mounds rose up above my feet,
+  It was Bragi had made them sweet-mouthed, and I was the wandering scald;
+  Yet green did my cunning flourish by whatso name I was called,
+  And I grew the master of masters--Think thou how strange it is
+  That the sword in the hands of a stripling shall one day end all this!
+
+  "Yet oft mid all my wisdom did I long for my brother's part,
+  And Fafnir's mighty kingship weighed heavy on my heart
+  When the Kings of the earthly kingdoms would give me golden gifts
+  From out of their scanty treasures, due pay for my cunning shifts.
+  And once--didst thou number the years thou wouldst think it long ago--
+  I wandered away to the country from whence our stem did grow.
+  There methought the fells grown greater, but waste did the meadows lie
+  And the house was rent and ragged and open to the sky.
+  But lo, when I came to the doorway, great silence brooded there,
+  Nor bat nor owl would haunt it, nor the wood-wolves drew anear.
+  Then I went to the pillared hall-stead, and lo, huge heaps of gold,
+  And to and fro amidst them a mighty Serpent rolled:
+  Then my heart grew chill with terror, for I thought on the wont of our
+    race,
+  And I, who had lost their cunning, was a man in a deadly place,
+  A feeble man and a swordless in the lone destroyer's fold;
+  For I knew that the Worm was Fafnir, the Wallower on the Gold.
+
+  "So I gathered my strength and fled, and hid my shame again
+  Mid the foolish sons of men-folk; and the more my hope was vain,
+  The more I longed for the Treasure, and deliv'rance from the yoke:
+  And yet passed the generations, and I dwelt with the short-lived folk.
+
+  "Long years, and long years after the tale of men-folk told
+  How up on the Glittering Heath was the house and the dwelling of gold,
+  And within that house was the Serpent, and the Lord of the Fearful Face:
+  Then I wondered sore of the desert; for I thought of the golden place
+  My hands of old had builded; for I knew by many a sign
+  That the Fearful Face was my brother, that the blood
+  of the Worm was mine.
+
+  "This was ages long ago, and yet in that desert he dwells,
+  Betwixt him and men death lieth, and no man of his semblance tells;
+  But the tale of the great Gold-wallower is never the more outworn.
+  Then came thy kin, O Sigurd, and thy father's father was born,
+  And I fell to the dreaming of dreams, and I saw thine eyes therein,
+  And I looked and beheld thy glory and all that thy sword should win;
+  And I thought that thou shouldst be he, who should bring my heart its
+    rest,
+  That of all the gifts of the Kings thy sword should give me the best.
+
+  "Ah, I fell to the dreaming of dreams; and oft the gold I saw,
+  And the golden-fashioned Hauberk, clean-wrought without a flaw,
+  And the Helm that aweth the world; and I knew of Fafnir's heart
+  That his wisdom was greater than mine, because he had held him apart,
+  Nor spilt on the sons of men-folk our knowledge of ancient days,
+  Nor bartered one whit for their love, nor craved for the people's praise.
+
+  "And some day I shall have it all, his gold and his craft and his heart
+  And the gathered and garnered wisdom he guards in the mountains apart.
+  And then when my hand is upon it, my hand shall be as the spring
+  To thaw his winter away and the fruitful tide to bring.
+  It shall grow, it shall grow into summer, and I shall be he that wrought,
+  And my deeds shall be remembered, and my name that once was nought;
+  Yea I shall be Frey, and Thor, and Freyia, and Bragi in one:
+  Yea the God of all that is,--and no deed in the wide world done,
+  But the deed that my heart would fashion: and the songs of the freed
+    from the yoke
+  Shall bear to my house in the heavens the love and the longing of folk;
+  And there shall be no more dying, and the sea shall be as the land,
+  And the world for ever and ever shall be young beneath my hand."
+
+  Then his eyelids fell, and he slumbered, and it seemed as Sigurd gazed
+  That the flames leapt up in the stithy and about the Master blazed,
+  And his hand in the harp-strings wandered and the sweetness from them
+    poured.
+  Then unto his feet leapt Sigurd and drew his stripling's sword,
+  And he cried: "Awake, O Master, for, lo, the day goes by,
+  And this too is an ancient story, that the sons of men-folk die,
+  And all save fame departeth. Awake! for the day grows late,
+  And deeds by the door are passing, nor the Norns will have them wait."
+
+  Then Regin groaned and wakened, sad-eyed and heavy-browed,
+  And weary and worn was he waxen, as a man by a burden bowed:
+  And he spake: "Hast thou hearkened, Sigurd, wilt thou help a man that
+    is old
+  To avenge him for his father? Wilt thou win that Treasure of Gold
+  And be more than the Kings of the earth? Wilt thou rid the earth of a
+    wrong
+  And heal the woe and the sorrow my heart hath endured o'erlong?"
+
+  Then Sigurd looked upon him with steadfast eyes and clear,
+  And Regin drooped and trembled as he stood the doom to hear:
+  But the bright child spake as aforetime, and answered the Master and said:
+  "Thou shalt have thy will, and the Treasure, and take the curse on
+    thine head."
+
+
+    _Of the forging of the Sword that is called The Wrath of Sigurd._
+
+  Now again came Sigurd to Regin, and said: "Thou hast taught me a task
+  Whereof none knoweth the ending: and a gift at thine hands I ask."
+
+  Then answered Regin the Master: "The world must be wide indeed
+  If my hand may not reach across it for aught thine heart may need."
+
+  "Yea wide is the world," said Sigurd, "and soon spoken is thy word;
+  But this gift thou shalt nought gainsay me: for I bid thee forge me a
+    sword."
+
+  Then spake the Master of Masters, and his voice was sweet and soft,
+  "Look forth abroad, O Sigurd, and note in the heavens aloft
+  How the dim white moon of the daylight hangs round as the Goth-God's
+    shield:
+  Now for thee first rang mine anvil when she walked the heavenly field
+  A slim and lovely lady, and the old moon lay on her arm:
+  Lo, here is a sword I have wrought thee with many a spell and charm
+  And all the craft of the Dwarf-kind; be glad thereof and sure;
+  Mid many a storm of battle full well shall it endure."
+
+  Then Sigurd looked on the slayer, and never a word would speak:
+  Gemmed were the hilts and golden, and the blade was blue and bleak,
+  And runes of the Dwarf-kind's cunning each side the trench were scored:
+  But soft and sweet spake Regin: "How likest thou the sword?"
+
+  Then Sigurd laughed and answered: "The work is proved by the deed;
+  See now if this be a traitor to fail me in my need."
+
+  Then Regin trembled and shrank, so bright his eyes outshone
+  As he turned about to the anvil, and smote the sword thereon;
+  But the shards fell shivering earthward, and Sigurd's heart grew wroth
+  As the steel-flakes tinkled about him: "Lo, there the right-hand's troth!
+  Lo, there the golden glitter, and the word that soon is spilt."
+  And down amongst the ashes he cast the glittering hilt,
+  And turned his back on Regin and strode out through the door
+  And for many a day of spring-tide came back again no more.
+  But at last he came to the stithy and again took up the word:
+  "What hast thou done, O Master, in the forging of the sword?"
+
+  Then sweetly Regin answered: "Hard task-master art thou,
+  But lo, a blade of battle that shall surely please thee now!
+  Two moons are clean departed since thou lookedst toward the sky
+  And sawest the dim white circle amid the cloud-flecks lie;
+  And night and day have I laboured; and the cunning of old days
+  Hath surely left my right-hand if this sword thou shalt not praise."
+
+  And indeed the hilts gleamed glorious with many a dear-bought stone,
+  And down the fallow edges the light of battle shone;
+  Yet Sigurd's eyes shone brighter, nor yet might Regin face
+  Those eyes of the heart of the Volsungs; but trembled in his place
+  As Sigurd cried: "O Regin, thy kin of the days of old
+  Were an evil and treacherous folk, and they lied and murdered for gold;
+  And now if thou wouldst bewray me, of the ancient curse beware,
+  And set thy face as the flint the bale and the shame to bear:
+  For he that would win to the heavens, and be as the Gods on high
+  Must tremble nought at the road, and the place where men-folk die."
+
+  White leaps the blade in his hand and gleams in the gear of the wall,
+  And he smites, and the oft-smitten edges on the beaten anvil fall:
+  But the life of the sword departed, and dull and broken it lay
+  On the ashes and flaked-off iron, and no word did Sigurd say,
+  But strode off through the door of the stithy and went to the Hall of
+    Kings,
+  And was merry and blithe that even mid all imaginings.
+
+  But when the morrow was come he went to his mother and spake:
+  "The shards, the shards of the sword, that thou gleanedst for my sake
+  In the night on the field of slaughter, in the tide when my father fell,
+  Hast thou kept them through sorrow and joyance? hast thou warded them
+    trusty and well?
+  Where hast thou laid them, my mother?"
+                  Then she looked upon him and said:
+  "Art thou wroth, O Sigurd my son, that such eyes are in thine head?
+  And wilt thou be wroth with thy mother? do I withstand thee at all?"
+
+  "Nay," said he, "nought am I wrathful, but the days rise up like a wall
+  Betwixt my soul and the deeds, and I strive to rend them through.
+  And why wilt thou fear mine eyen? as the sword lies baleful and blue
+  E'en 'twixt the lips of lovers, when they swear their troth thereon,
+  So keen are the eyes ye have fashioned, ye folk of the days agone;
+  For therein is the light of battle, though whiles it lieth asleep.
+  Now give me the sword, my mother, that Sigmund gave thee to keep."
+
+  She said: "I shall give it thee gladly, for fain shall I be of thy praise
+  When thou knowest my careful keeping of that hope of the earlier days."
+
+  So she took his hand in her hand, and they went their ways, they twain,
+  Till they came to the treasure of queen-folk, the guarded chamber of gain:
+  They were all alone with its riches, and she turned the key in the gold,
+  And lifted the sea-born purple, and the silken web unrolled,
+  And lo, 'twixt her hands and her bosom the shards of Sigmund's sword;
+  No rust-fleck stained its edges, and the gems of the ocean's hoard
+  Were as bright in the hilts and glorious, as when in the Volsungs' hall
+  It shone in the eyes of the earl-folk and flashed from the shielded wall.
+
+  But Sigurd smiled upon it, and he said: "O Mother of Kings,
+  Well hast thou warded the war-glaive for a mirror of many things,
+  And a hope of much fulfilment: well hast thou given to me
+  The message of my fathers, and the word of things to be:
+  Trusty hath been thy warding, but its hour is over now:
+  These shards shall be knit together, and shall hear the war-wind blow.
+  They shall shine through the rain of Odin, as the sun come back to the
+    world,
+  When the heaviest bolt of the thunder amidst the storm is hurled:
+  They shall shake the thrones of Kings, and shear the walls of war,
+  And undo the knot of treason when the world is darkening o'er.
+  They have shone in the dusk and the night-tide, they shall shine in the
+    dawn and the day;
+  They have gathered the storm together, they shall chase the clouds away;
+  They have sheared red gold asunder, they shall gleam o'er the garnered
+    gold;
+  They have ended many a story, they shall fashion a tale to be told:
+  They have lived in the wrack of the people; they shall live in the glory
+    of folk:
+  They have stricken the Gods in battle, for the Gods shall they strike
+    the stroke."
+
+  Then she felt his hands about her as he took the fateful sword,
+  And he kissed her soft and sweetly; but she answered never a word:
+  So great and fair was he waxen, so glorious was his face,
+  So young, as the deathless Gods are, that long in the golden place
+  She stood when he was departed: as some for-travailed one
+  Comes over the dark fell-ridges on the birth-tide of the sun,
+  And his gathering sleep falls from him mid the glory and the blaze;
+  And he sees the world grow merry and looks on the lightened ways,
+  While the ruddy streaks are melting in the day-flood broad and white;
+  Then the morn-dusk he forgetteth, and the moon-lit waste of night,
+  And the hall whence he departed with its yellow candles' flare:
+  So stood the Isle-king's daughter in that treasure-chamber fair.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+  But swift on his ways went Sigurd, and to Regin's house he came,
+  Where the Master stood in the doorway and behind him leapt the flame,
+  And dark he looked and little: no more his speech was sweet,
+  No words on his lip were gathered the Volsung child to greet,
+  Till he took the sword from Sigurd and the shards of the days of old;
+  Then he spake:
+                 "Will nothing serve thee save this blue steel and cold,
+  The bane of thy father's father, the fate of all his kin,
+  The baleful blade I fashioned, the Wrath that the Gods would win?"
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+  Then answered the eye-bright Sigurd: "If thou thy craft wilt do
+  Nought save these battle-gleanings shall be my helper true:
+  And what if thou begrudgest, and my battle-blade be dull,
+  Yet the hand of the Norns is lifted and the cup is over-full.
+  Repentst thou ne'er so sorely that thy kin must lie alow,
+  How much soe'er thou longest the world to overthrow,
+  And, doubting the gold and the wisdom, wouldst even now appease
+  Blind hate and eyeless murder, and win the world with these;
+  O'er-late is the time for repenting the word thy lips have said:
+  Thou shalt have the Gold and the wisdom and take its curse on thine head.
+  I say that thy lips have spoken, and no more with thee it lies
+  To do the deed or leave it: since thou hast shown mine eyes
+  The world that was aforetime, I see the world to be;
+  And woe to the tangling thicket, or the wall that hindereth me!
+  And short is the space I will tarry; for how if the Worm should die
+  Ere the first of my strokes be stricken? Wilt thou get to thy mastery
+  And knit these shards together that once in the Branstock stood?
+  But if not and a smith's hands fail me, a king's hand yet shall be good;
+  And the Norns have doomed thy brother. And yet I deem this sword
+  Is the slayer of the Serpent, and the scatterer of the Hoard."
+
+  Great waxed the gloom of Regin, and he said: "Thou sayest sooth
+  For none may turn him backward: the sword of a very youth
+  Shall one day end my cunning, as the Gods my joyance slew,
+  When nought thereof they were deeming, and another thing would do.
+  But this sword shall slay the Serpent; and do another deed,
+  And many an one thereafter till it fail thee in thy need.
+  But as fair and great as thou standest, yet get thee from mine house,
+  For in me too might ariseth, and the place is perilous
+  With the craft that was aforetime, and shall never be again,
+  When the hands that have taught thee cunning have failed from the world
+    of men.
+  Thou art wroth; but thy wrath must slumber till fate its blossom bear;
+  Not thus were the eyes of Odin when I held him in the snare.
+  Depart! lest the end overtake us ere thy work and mine be done,
+  But come again in the night-tide and the slumber of the sun,
+  When the sharded moon of April hangs round in the undark May."
+
+  Hither and thither a while did the heart of Sigurd sway
+  For he feared no craft of the Dwarf-kind, nor heeded the ways of Fate,
+  But his hand wrought e'en as his heart would: and now was he weary with
+    hate
+  Of the hatred and scorn of the Gods, and the greed of gold and of gain,
+  And the weaponless hands of the stripling of the wrath and the rending
+    were fain,
+  But there stood Regin the Master, and his eyes were on Sigurd's eyes,
+  Though nought belike they beheld him, and his brow was sad and wise;
+  And the greed died out of his visage and he stood like an image of old.
+
+  So the Norns drew Sigurd away, and the tide was an even of gold,
+  And sweet in the April even were the fowl-kind singing their best;
+  And the light of life smote Sigurd, and the joy that knows no rest,
+  And the fond unnamed desire, and the hope of hidden things;
+  And he wended fair and lovely to the house of the feasting Kings.
+
+  But now when the moon was at full and the undark May begun,
+  Went Sigurd unto Regin mid the slumber of the sun,
+  And amidst the fire-hall's pavement the King of the Dwarf-kind stood
+  Like an image of deeds departed and days that once were good;
+  And he seemed but faint and weary, and his eyes were dim and dazed
+  As they met the glory of Sigurd where the fitful candles blazed.
+  Then he spake:
+    "Hail, Son of the Volsungs, the corner-stone is laid,
+  I have toiled and thou hast desired, and, lo, the fateful blade!"
+
+  Then Sigurd saw it lying on the ashes slaked and pale
+  Like the sun and the lightning mingled mid the even's cloudy bale;
+  For ruddy and great were the hilts, and the edges fine and wan,
+  And all adown to the blood-point a very flame there ran
+  That swallowed the runes of wisdom wherewith its sides were scored.
+  No sound did Sigurd utter as he stooped adown for his sword,
+  But it seemed as his lips were moving with speech of strong desire.
+  White leapt the blade o'er his head, and he stood in the ring of its fire
+  As hither and thither it played, till it fell on the anvil's strength,
+  And he cried aloud in his glory, and held out the sword full length,
+  As one who would show it the world; for the edges were dulled no whit,
+  And the anvil was cleft to the pavement with the dreadful dint of it.
+
+  But Regin cried to his harp-strings: "Before the days of men
+  I smithied the Wrath of Sigurd, and now is it smithied again:
+  And my hand alone hath done it, and my heart alone hath dared
+  To bid that man to the mountain, and behold his glory bared.
+  Ah, if the son of Sigmund might wot of the thing I would,
+  Then how were the ages bettered, and the world all waxen good!
+  Then how were the past forgotten and the weary days of yore,
+  And the hope of man that dieth and the waste that never bore!
+  How should this one live through the winter and know of all increase!
+  How should that one spring to the sunlight and bear the blossom of peace!
+  No more should the long-lived wisdom o'er the waste of the wilderness
+    stray;
+  Nor the clear-eyed hero hasten to the deedless ending of day.
+  And what if the hearts of the Volsungs for this deed of deeds were born,
+  How then were their life-days evil and the end of their lives forlorn?"
+
+  There stood Sigurd the Volsung, and heard how the harp-strings rang,
+  But of other things they told him than the hope that the Master sang;
+  And his world lay far away from the Dwarf-king's eyeless realm
+  And the road that leadeth nowhere, and the ship without a helm:
+  But he spake: "How oft shall I say it, that I shall work thy will?
+  If my father hath made me mighty, thine heart shall I fulfill
+  With the wisdom and gold thou wouldest, before I wend on my ways;
+  For now hast thou failed me nought, and the sword is the wonder of days."
+
+  No word for a while spake Regin; but he hung his head adown
+  As a man that pondereth sorely, and his voice once more was grown
+  As the voice of the smithying-master as he spake: "This Wrath of thine
+  Hath cleft the hard and the heavy; it shall shear the soft and the fine:
+  Come forth to the night and prove it."
+                       So they twain went forth abroad,
+  And the moon lay white on the river and lit the sleepless ford,
+  And down to its pools they wended, and the stream was swift and full;
+  Then Regin cast against it a lock of fine-spun wool,
+  And it whirled about on the eddy till it met the edges bared,
+  And as clean as the careless water the laboured fleece was sheared.
+
+  Then Regin spake: "It is good, what the smithying-carle hath wrought:
+  Now the work of the King beginneth, and the end that my soul hath sought.
+  Thou shalt toil and I shall desire, and the deed shall be surely done:
+  For thy Wrath is alive and awake and the story of bale is begun."
+
+  Therewith was the Wrath of Sigurd laid soft in a golden sheath
+  And the peace-strings knit around it; for that blade was fain of death;
+  And 'tis ill to show such edges to the broad blue light of day,
+  Or to let the hall-glare light them, if ye list not play the play.
+
+
+    _Of Gripir's Foretelling._
+
+  Now Sigurd backeth Greyfell on the first of the morrow morn,
+  And he rideth fair and softly through the acres of the corn;
+  The Wrath to his side is girded, but hid are the edges blue,
+  As he wendeth his ways to the mountains, and rideth the horse-mead
+    through.
+  His wide grey eyes are happy, and his voice is sweet and soft,
+  As amid the mead-lark's singing he casteth song aloft:
+  Lo, lo, the horse and the rider! So once maybe it was,
+  When over the Earth unpeopled the youngest God would pass;
+  But never again meseemeth shall such a sight betide,
+  Till over a world unwrongful new-born shall Baldur ride.
+
+  So he comes to that ness of the mountains, and Gripir's garden steep,
+  That bravely Greyfell breasteth, and adown by the door doth he leap
+  And his war-gear rattleth upon him; there is none to ask or forbid
+  As he wendeth the house clear-lighted, where no mote of the dust is hid,
+  Though the sunlight hath not entered: the walls are clear and bright,
+  For they cast back each to other the golden Sigurd's light;
+  Through the echoing ways of the house bright-eyed he wendeth along,
+  And the mountain-wind is with him, and the hovering eagles' song;
+  But no sound of the children of men may the ears of the Volsung hear,
+  And no sign of their ways in the world, or their will, or their hope
+    or their fear.
+
+  So he comes to the hall of Gripir, and gleaming-green is it built
+  As the house of under-ocean where the wealth of the greedy is spilt;
+  Gleaming and green as the sea, and rich as its rock-strewn floor,
+  And fresh as the autumn morning when the burning of summer is o'er.
+  There he looks and beholdeth the high-seat, and he sees it strangely
+    wrought,
+  Of the tooth of the sea-beast fashioned ere the Dwarf-kind came to
+    nought;
+  And he looks, and thereon is Gripir, the King exceeding old,
+  With the sword of his fathers girded, and his raiment wrought of gold;
+  With the ivory rod in his right-hand, with his left on the crystal laid,
+  That is round as the world of men-folk, and after its image made,
+  And clear is it wrought to the eyen that may read therein of Fate
+  Though little indeed be its sea, and its earth not wondrous great.
+
+  There Sigurd stands in the hall, on the sheathed Wrath doth he lean,
+  All his golden light is mirrored in the gleaming floor and green;
+  But the smile in his face upriseth as he looks on the ancient King,
+  And their glad eyes meet and their laughter, and sweet is the welcoming:
+  And Gripir saith: "Hail Sigurd! for my bidding hast thou done,
+  And here in the mountain-dwelling are two Kings of men alone."
+
+  But Sigurd spake: "Hail father! I am girt with the fateful sword
+  And my face is set to the highway, and I come for thy latest word."
+
+  Said Gripir: "What wouldst thou hearken ere we sit and drink the wine?"
+
+  "Thy word and the Norns'," said Sigurd, "but never a word of mine."
+
+  "What sights wouldst thou see," said Gripir, "ere mine hand shall take
+    thine hand?"
+
+  "As the Gods would I see," said Sigurd, "though Death light up the land."
+
+  "What hope wouldst thou hope, O Sigurd, ere we kiss, we twain, and
+    depart?"
+
+  "Thy hope and the Gods'," said Sigurd, "though the grief lie hard on
+    my heart."
+
+  Nought answered the ancient wise-one, and not a whit had he stirred
+  Since the clash of Sigurd's raiment in his mountain-hall he heard;
+  But the ball that imaged the earth was set in his hand grown old;
+  And belike it was to his vision, as the wide-world's ocean rolled,
+  And the forests waved with the wind, and the corn was gay with the lark,
+  And the gold in its nether places grew up in the dusk and the dark,
+  And its children built and departed, and its King-folk conquered and went,
+  As over the crystal image his all-wise face was bent:
+  For all his desire was dead, and he lived as a God shall live,
+  Who the prayers of the world hath forgotten, and to whom no hand may give.
+
+  But there stood the mighty Volsung, and leaned on the hidden Wrath;
+  As the earliest sun's uprising o'er the sea-plain draws a path
+  Whereby men sail to the Eastward and the dawn of another day,
+  So the image of King Sigurd on the gleaming pavement lay.
+
+  Then great in the hall fair-pillared the voice of Gripir arose,
+  And it ran through the glimmering house-ways, and forth to the sunny
+    close;
+  There mid the birds' rejoicing went the voice of an o'er-wise King
+  Like a wind of midmost winter come back to talk with spring.
+
+  But the voice cried: "Sigurd, Sigurd! O great, O early born!
+  O hope of the Kings first fashioned! O blossom of the morn!
+  Short day and long remembrance, fair summer of the North!
+  One day shall the worn world wonder how first thou wentest forth!
+
+  "Arise, O Sigurd, Sigurd! in the night arise and go,
+  Thou shalt smite when the day-dawn glimmers through the folds of
+    God-home's foe:
+
+  "There the child in the noon-tide smiteth; the young King rendeth apart,
+  The old guile by the guile encompassed, the heart made wise by the heart.
+
+  "Bind the red rings, O Sigurd; bind up to cast abroad!
+  That the earth may laugh before thee rejoiced by the Waters' Hoard.
+
+  "Ride on, O Sigurd, Sigurd! for God's word goes forth on the wind,
+  And he speaketh not twice over; nor shall they loose that bind:
+  But the Day and the Day shall loosen, and the Day shall awake and arise,
+  And the Day shall rejoice with the Dawning, and the wise heart learn of
+    the wise.
+
+  "O fair, O fearless, O mighty, how green are the garths of Kings,
+  How soft are the ways before thee to the heart of their war-farings!
+
+  "How green are the garths of King-folk, how fair is the lily and rose
+  In the house of the Cloudy People, 'neath the towers of kings and foes!
+
+  "Smite now, smite now in the noontide! ride on through the hosts of men!
+  Lest the dear remembrance perish, and today come not again.
+
+  "Is it day?--But the house is darkling--But the hand would gather and
+    hold,
+  And the lips have kissed the cloud-wreath, and a cloud the arms enfold.
+
+  "In the dusk hath the Sower arisen; in the dark hath he cast the seed,
+  And the ear is the sorrow of Odin and the wrong, and the nameless need!
+
+  "Ah the hand hath gathered and garnered, and empty is the hand,
+  Though the day be full and fruitful mid the drift of the Cloudy Land!
+
+  "Look, look on the drift of the clouds, how the day and the even doth
+    grow
+  As the long-forgotten dawning that was a while ago!
+
+  "Dawn, dawn, O mighty of men! and why wilt thou never awake,
+  When the holy field of the Goth-folk cries out for thy love and thy sake?
+
+  "Dawn, now; but the house is silent, and dark is the purple blood
+  On the breast of the Queen fair-fashioned; and it riseth up as a flood
+  Round the posts of the door belovèd; and a deed there lieth therein:
+  The last of the deeds of Sigurd; the worst of the Cloudy Kin--
+  The slayer slain by the slain within the door and without.
+  --O dawn as the eve of the birth-day! O dark world cumbered with doubt!
+
+  "Shall it never be day any more, nor the sun's uprising and growth?
+  Shall the kings of earth lie sleeping and the war-dukes wander in sloth
+  Through the last of the winter twilight? is the word of the wise-ones said
+  Till the five-fold winter be ended and the trumpet waken the dead?
+
+  "Short day and long remembrance! great glory for the earth!
+  O deeds of the Day triumphant! O word of Sigurd's worth!
+  It is done, and who shall undo it of all who were ever alive?
+  May the Gods or the high Gods' masters 'gainst the tale of the righteous
+    strive,
+  And the deeds to follow after, and all their deeds increase,
+  Till the uttermost field is foughten, and Baldur riseth in peace!
+
+  "Cry out, O waste, before him! O rocks of the wilderness, cry!
+  For to-morn shalt thou see the glory, and the man not made to die!
+  Cry out, O upper heavens! O clouds beneath the lift
+  For the golden King shall be riding high-headed midst the drift:
+  The mountain waits and the fire; there waiteth the heart of the wise
+  Till the earthly toil is accomplished, and again shall the fire arise;
+  And none shall be nigh in the ending and none by his heart shall be laid,
+  Save the world that he cherished and quickened, and the Day that he
+    wakened and made."
+
+  So died the voice of Gripir from amidst the sunny close,
+  And the sound of hastening eagles from the mountain's feet arose,
+  But the hall was silent a little, for still stood Sigmund's son,
+  And he heard the words and remembered, and knew them one by one.
+  Then he turned on the ancient Gripir with eyes that knew no guile
+  And smiled on the wise of King-folk as the first of men might smile
+  On the God that hath fashioned him happy; and he spake:
+                     "Hast thou spoken and known
+  How there standeth a child before thee and a stripling scarcely grown?
+  Or hast thou told of the Volsungs, and the gathered heart of these,
+  And their still unquenched desire for garnering fame's increase?
+  E'en so do I hearken thy words: for I wot how they deem it long
+  Till a man from their seed be arisen to deal with the cumber and wrong.
+  Bid me therefore to sit by thy side, for behold I wend on my way,
+  And the gates swing to behind me, and each day of mine is a day
+  With deeds in the eve and the morning, nor deeds shall the noontide lack;
+  To the right and the left none calleth, and no voice crieth aback."
+
+  "Come, kin of the Gods," said Gripir, "come up and sit by my side
+  That we twain may be glad as the fearless, and they that have nothing
+    to hide:
+  I have wrought out my will and abide it, and I sit ungrieved and alone,
+  I look upon men and I help not; to me are the deeds long done
+  As those of to-day and to-morrow: for these and for those am I glad;
+  But the Gods and men are the framers, and the days of my life I have had."
+
+  Then Sigurd came unto Gripir, and he kissed the wise-one's face,
+  And they sat in the high-seat together, the child and the elder of days;
+  And they drank of the wine of King-folk, and were joyful each of each,
+  And spake for a while of matters that are meet for King-folk's speech;
+  The deeds of men that have been and Kin of the Kings of the earth;
+  And Gripir told of the outlands, and the mid-world's billowy girth,
+  And tales of the upper heaven were mingled with his talk,
+  And the halls where the Sea-Queen's kindred o'er the gem-strewn pavement
+    walk,
+  And the innermost parts of the earth, where they lie, the green and the
+    blue,
+  And the red and the glittering gem-stones that of old the Dwarf-kind knew.
+
+  Long Sigurd sat and marvelled at the mouth that might not lie,
+  And the eyes no God had blinded, and the lone heart raised on high,
+  Then he rose from the gleaming high-seat, and the rings of battle rang
+  And the sheathèd Wrath was hearkening and a song of war it sang,
+  But Sigurd spake unto Gripir:
+                    "Long and lovely are thy days,
+  And thy years fulfilled of wisdom, and thy feet on the unhid ways,
+  And the guileless heart of the great that knoweth not anger nor pain:
+  So once hath a man been fashioned and shall not be again.
+  But for me hath been foaled the war-horse, the grey steed swift as the
+    cloud,
+  And for me were the edges smithied, and the Wrath cries out aloud;
+  And a voice hath called from the darkness, and I ride to the Glittering
+    Heath;
+  To smite on the door of Destruction, and waken the warder of Death."
+
+  So they kissed, the wise and the wise, and the child from the elder
+    turned;
+  And again in the glimmering house-ways the golden Sigurd burned;
+  He stood outside in the sunlight, and tarried never a deal,
+  But leapt on the cloudy Greyfell with the clank of gold and steel,
+  And he rode through the sinking day to the walls of the kingly stead,
+  And came to Regin's dwelling when the wind was fallen dead,
+  And the great sun just departing: then blood-red grew the west,
+  And the fowl flew home from the sea-mead, and all things sank to rest.
+
+
+    _Sigurd rideth to the Glittering Heath._
+
+  Again on the morrow morning doth Sigurd the Volsung ride,
+  And Regin, the Master of Masters, is faring by his side,
+  And they leave the dwelling of kings and ride the summer land,
+  Until at the eve of the day the hills are on either hand:
+  Then they wend up higher and higher, and over the heaths they fare
+  Till the moon shines broad on the midnight, and they sleep 'neath the
+    heavens bare;
+  And they waken and look behind them, and lo, the dawning of day
+  And the little land of the Helper and its valley far away;
+  But the mountains rise before them, a wall exceeding great.
+
+  Then spake the Master of Masters: "We have come to the garth and the gate:
+  There is youth and rest behind thee and many a thing to do,
+  There is many a fond desire, and each day born anew;
+  And the land of the Volsungs to conquer, and many a people's praise:
+  And for me there is rest it maybe, and the peaceful end of days.
+  We have come to the garth and the gate; to the hall-door now shall we win,
+  Shall we go to look on the high-seat and see what sitteth therein?"
+
+  "Yea and what else?" said Sigurd, "was thy tale but mockeries
+  And have I been drifted hither on a wind of empty lies?"
+
+  "It was sooth, it was sooth," said Regin, "and more might I have told
+  Had I heart and space to remember the deeds of the days of old."
+
+  And he hung down his head as he spake it, and was silent a little space;
+  And when it was lifted again there was fear in the Dwarf-king's face.
+  And he said: "Thou knowest my thought, and wise-hearted art thou grown:
+  It were well if thine eyes were blinder, and we each were faring alone,
+  And I with my eld and my wisdom, and thou with thy youth and thy might;
+  Yet whiles I dream I have wrought thee, a beam of the morning bright,
+  A fatherless motherless glory, to work out my desire;
+  Then high my hope ariseth, and my heart is all afire
+  For the world I behold from afar, and the day that yet shall be;
+  Then I wake and all things I remember and a youth of the Kings I see--
+  --The child of the Wood-abider, the seed of a conquered King,
+  The sword that the Gods have fashioned, the fate that men shall sing:--
+  Ah might the world run backward to the days of the Dwarfs of old,
+  When I hewed out the pillars of crystal, and smoothed the walls of gold!"
+
+  Nought answered the Son of Sigmund; nay he heard him nought at all,
+  Save as though the wind were speaking in the bights of the mountain-hall:
+  But he leapt aback of Greyfell, and the glorious sun rose up,
+  And the heavens glowed above him like the bowl of Baldur's cup,
+  And a golden man was he waxen; as the heart of the sun he seemed,
+  While over the feet of the mountains like blood the new light streamed;
+  Then Sigurd cried to Greyfell and swift for the pass he rode
+  And Regin followed after as a man bowed down by a load.
+
+  Day-long they fared through the mountains, and that highway's fashioner
+  Forsooth was a fearful craftsman, and his hands the waters were,
+  And the heaped-up ice was his mattock, and the fire-blast was his man,
+  And never a whit he heeded though his walls were waste and wan,
+  And the guest-halls of that wayside great heaps of the ashes spent.
+  But, each as a man alone, through the sun-bright day they went,
+  And they rode till the moon rose upward, and the stars were small and
+    fair,
+  Then they slept on the long-slaked ashes beneath the heavens bare;
+  And the cold dawn came and they wakened, and the King of the Dwarf-kind
+    seemed
+  As a thing of that wan land fashioned; but Sigurd glowed and gleamed
+  Amid the shadowless twilight by Greyfell's cloudy flank,
+  As a little space they abided while the latest star-world shrank;
+  On the backward road looked Regin and heard how Sigurd drew
+  The girths of Greyfell's saddle, and the voice of his sword he knew
+  And he feared to look on the Volsung, as thus he fell to speak:
+
+  "I have seen the Dwarf-folk mighty, I have seen the God-folk weak;
+  And now, though our might be minished, yet have we gifts to give.
+  When men desire and conquer, most sweet is their life to live;
+  When men are young and lovely there is many a thing to do,
+  And sweet is their fond desire and the dawn that springs anew."
+
+  "This gift," said the Son of Sigmund, "the Norns shall give me yet,
+  And no blossom slain by the sunshine while the leaves with dew are wet."
+
+  Then Regin turned and beheld him: "Thou shalt deem it hard and strange,
+  When the hand hath encompassed it all, and yet thy life must change.
+  Ah, long were the lives of men-folk, if betwixt the Gods and them
+  Were mighty warders watching mid the earth's and the heaven's hem!
+  Is there any man so mighty he would cast this gift away,--
+  The heart's desire accomplished, and life so long a day,
+  That the dawn should be forgotten ere the even was begun?"
+
+  Then Sigurd laughed and answered: "Fare forth, O glorious sun;
+  Bright end from bright beginning, and the mid-way good to tell,
+  And death, and deeds accomplished, and all remembered well!
+  Shall the day go past and leave us, and we be left with night,
+  To tread the endless circle, and strive in vain to smite?
+  But thou--wilt thou still look backward? thou sayst I know thy thought:
+  Thou hast whetted the sword for the slaying, it shall turn aside for
+    nought.
+  Fear not! with the Gold and the wisdom thou shalt deem thee God alone,
+  And mayst do and undo at pleasure, nor be bound by right nor wrong:
+  And then, if no God I be waxen, I shall be the weak with the strong."
+
+  And his war-gear clanged and tinkled as he leapt to the saddle-stead:
+  And the sun rose up at their backs and the grey world changed to red.
+  And away to the west went Sigurd by the glory wreathed about,
+  But little and black was Regin as a fire that dieth out.
+  Day-long they rode the mountains by the crags exceeding old,
+  And the ash that the first of the Dwarf-kind found dull and quenched
+    and cold.
+  Then the moon in the mid-sky swam, and the stars were fair and pale,
+  And beneath the naked heaven they slept in an ash-grey dale;
+  And again at the dawn-dusk's ending they stood upon their feet,
+  And Sigurd donned his war-gear nor his eyes would Regin meet.
+
+  A clear streak widened in heaven low down above the earth;
+  And above it lay the cloud-flecks, and the sun, anigh its birth,
+  Unseen, their hosts was staining with the very hue of blood,
+  And ruddy by Greyfell's shoulder the Son of Sigmund stood.
+
+  Then spake the Master of Masters: "What is thine hope this morn
+  That thou dightest thee, O Sigurd, to ride this world forlorn?"
+
+  "What needeth hope," said Sigurd, "when the heart of the Volsungs turns
+  To the light of the Glittering Heath, and the house where the Waster
+    burns?
+  I shall slay the Foe of the Gods, as thou badst me a while agone,
+  And then with the Gold and its wisdom shalt thou be left alone."
+
+  "O Child," said the King of the Dwarf-kind, "when the day at last
+    comes round
+  For the dread and the Dusk of the Gods, and the kin of the Wolf is
+    unbound,
+  When thy sword shall hew the fire, and the wildfire beateth thy shield,
+  Shalt thou praise the wages of hope and the Gods that pitched the field?"
+
+  "O Foe of the Gods," said Sigurd, "wouldst thou hide the evil thing,
+  And the curse that is greater than thou, lest death end thy labouring,
+  Lest the night should come upon thee amidst thy toil for nought?
+  It is me, it is me that thou fearest, if indeed I know thy thought;
+  Yea me, who would utterly light the face of all good and ill,
+  If not with the fruitful beams that the summer shall fulfill,
+  Then at least with the world a-blazing, and the glare of the grinded
+    sword."
+
+  And he sprang aloft to the saddle as he spake the latest word,
+  And the Wrath sang loud in the sheath as it ne'er had sung before,
+  And the cloudy flecks were scattered like flames on the heaven's floor,
+  And all was kindled at once, and that trench of the mountains grey
+  Was filled with the living light as the low sun lit the way:
+  But Regin turned from the glory with blinded eyes and dazed,
+  And lo, on the cloudy war-steed how another light there blazed,
+  And a great voice came from amidst it:
+                           "O Regin, in good sooth,
+  I have hearkened not nor heeded the words of thy fear and thy ruth:
+  Thou hast told thy tale and thy longing, and thereto I hearkened well:--
+  Let it lead thee up to heaven, let it lead thee down to hell,
+  The deed shall be done to-morrow: thou shalt have that measureless Gold,
+  And devour the garnered wisdom that blessed thy realm of old,
+  That hath lain unspent and begrudged in the very heart of hate:
+  With the blood and the might of thy brother thine hunger shalt thou sate;
+  And this deed shall be mine and thine; but take heed for what followeth
+    then!
+  Let each do after his kind! I shall do the deeds of men;
+  I shall harvest the field of their sowing, in the bed of their strewing
+    shall sleep;
+  To them shall I give my life-days, to the Gods my glory to keep.
+  But thou with the wealth and the wisdom that the best of the Gods might
+    praise,
+  If thou shalt indeed excel them and become the hope of the days,
+  Then me in turn hast thou conquered, and I shall be in turn
+  Thy fashioned brand of the battle through good and evil to burn,
+  Or the flame that sleeps in thy stithy for the gathered winds to blow,
+  When thou listest to do and undo and thine uttermost cunning to show.
+  But indeed I wot full surely that thou shalt follow thy kind;
+  And for all that cometh after, the Norns shall loose and bind."
+
+  Then his bridle-reins rang sweetly, and the warding-walls of death,
+  And Regin drew up to him, and the Wrath sang loud in the sheath,
+  And forth from that trench in the mountains by the westward way they ride;
+  And little and black goes Regin by the golden Volsung's side;
+  But no more his head is drooping, for he seeth the Elf-king's Gold;
+  The garnered might and the wisdom e'en now his eyes behold.
+
+  So up and up they journeyed, and ever as they went
+  About the cold-slaked forges, o'er many a cloud-swept bent,
+  Betwixt the walls of blackness, by shores of the fishless meres,
+  And the fathomless desert waters, did Regin cast his fears,
+  And wrap him in desire; and all alone he seemed
+  As a God to his heirship wending, and forgotten and undreamed
+  Was all the tale of Sigurd, and the folk he had toiled among,
+  And the Volsungs, Odin's children, and the men-folk fair and young.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+  So on they ride to the westward, and huge were the mountains grown
+  And the floor of heaven was mingled with that tossing world of stone:
+  And they rode till the noon was forgotten and the sun was waxen low,
+  And they tarried not, though he perished, and the world grew dark below.
+  Then they rode a mighty desert, a glimmering place and wide,
+  And into a narrow pass high-walled on either side
+  By the blackness of the mountains, and barred aback and in face
+  By the empty night of the shadow; a windless silent place:
+  But the white moon shone o'erhead mid the small sharp stars and pale,
+  And each as a man alone they rode on the highway of bale.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+  So ever they wended upward, and the midnight hour was o'er,
+  And the stars grew pale and paler, and failed from the heaven's floor,
+  And the moon was a long while dead, but there was the promise of day,
+  No change came over the darkness, no streak of the dawning grey;
+  No sound of the wind's uprising adown the night there ran:
+  It was blind as the Gaping Gulf ere the first of the worlds began.
+
+  Then athwart and athwart rode Sigurd and sought the walls of the pass,
+  But found no wall before him; and the road rang hard as brass
+  Beneath the hoofs of Greyfell, as up and up he trod:
+  --Was it the daylight of Hell, or the night of the doorways of God?
+
+  But lo, at the last a glimmer, and a light from the west there came,
+  And another and another, like points of far-off flame;
+  And they grew and brightened and gathered; and whiles together they ran
+  Like the moonwake over the waters; and whiles they were scant and wan,
+  Some greater and some lesser, like the boats of fishers laid
+  About the sea of midnight; and a dusky dawn they made,
+  A faint and glimmering twilight: So Sigurd strains his eyes,
+  And he sees how a land deserted all round about him lies
+  More changeless than mid-ocean, as fruitless as its floor:
+  Then the heart leaps up within him, for he knows that his journey is o'er,
+  And there he draweth bridle on the first of the Glittering Heath:
+  And the Wrath is waxen merry and sings in the golden sheath
+  As he leaps adown from Greyfell, and stands upon his feet,
+  And wends his ways through the twilight the Foe of the Gods to meet.
+
+
+    _Sigurd slayeth Fafnir the Serpent_.
+
+  Nought Sigurd seeth of Regin, and nought he heeds of him,
+  As in watchful might and glory he strides the desert dim,
+  And behind him paceth Greyfell; but he deems the time o'erlong
+  Till he meet the great gold-warden, the over-lord of wrong.
+
+  So he wendeth midst the silence through the measureless desert place,
+  And beholds the countless glitter with wise and steadfast face,
+  Till him-seems in a little season that the flames grow somewhat wan,
+  And a grey thing glimmers before him, and becomes a mighty man,
+  One-eyed and ancient-seeming, in cloud-grey raiment clad;
+  A friendly man and glorious, and of visage smiling-glad:
+  Then content in Sigurd groweth because of his majesty,
+  And he heareth him speak in the desert as the wind of the winter sea:
+
+  "Hail Sigurd! Give me thy greeting ere thy ways alone thou wend!"
+
+  Said Sigurd: "Hail! I greet thee, my friend and my fathers' friend."
+
+  "Now whither away," said the elder, "with the Steed and the ancient
+    Sword?"
+
+  "To the greedy house," said Sigurd, "and the King of the Heavy Hoard."
+
+  "Wilt thou smite, O Sigurd, Sigurd?" said the ancient mighty-one.
+
+  "Yea, yea, I shall smite," said the Volsung, "save the Gods have slain
+    the sun."
+
+  "What wise wilt thou smite," said the elder, "lest the dark devour thy
+    day?"
+
+  "Thou hast praised the sword," said the child, "and the sword shall find
+    a way."
+
+  "Be learned of me," said the Wise-one, "for I was the first of thy folk."
+
+  Said the child: "I shall do thy bidding, and for thee shall I strike the
+    stroke."
+
+  Spake the Wise-one: "Thus shalt thou do when thou wendest hence alone:
+  Thou shalt find a path in the desert, and a road in the world of stone;
+  It is smooth and deep and hollow, but the rain hath riven it not,
+  And the wild wind hath not worn it, for it is but Fafnir's slot,
+  Whereby he wends to the water and the fathomless pool of old,
+  When his heart in the dawn is weary, and he loathes the Ancient Gold:
+  There think of the great and the fathers, and bare the whetted Wrath,
+  And dig a pit in the highway, and a grave in the Serpent's path:
+  Lie thou therein, O Sigurd, and thine hope from the glooming hide,
+  And be as the dead for a season, and the living light abide!
+  And so shall thine heart avail thee, and thy mighty fateful hand,
+  And the Light that lay in the Branstock, the well belovèd brand."
+
+  Said the child: "I shall do thy bidding, and for thee shall I strike the
+    stroke;
+  For I love thee, friend of my fathers, Wise Heart of the holy folk."
+
+  So spake the Son of Sigmund, and beheld no man anear,
+  And again was the night the midnight, and the twinkling flames shone clear
+  In the hush of the Glittering Heath; and alone went Sigmund's son
+  Till he came to the road of Fafnir, and the highway worn by one,
+  By the drift of the rain unfurrowed, by the windy years unrent,
+  And forth from the dark it came, and into the dark it went.
+
+  Great then was the heart of Sigurd, for there in the midmost he stayed,
+  And thought of the ancient fathers, and bared the bright blue blade,
+  That shone as a fleck of the day-light, and the night was all around.
+  Fair then was the Son of Sigmund as he toiled and laboured the ground;
+  Great, mighty he was in his working, and the Glittering Heath he clave,
+  And the sword shone blue before him as he dug the pit and the grave:
+  There he hid his hope from the night-tide and lay like one of the dead,
+  And wise and wary he bided; and the heavens hung over his head.
+
+  Now the night wanes over Sigurd, and the ruddy rings he sees,
+  And his war-gear's fair adornment, and the God-folk's images;
+  But a voice in the desert ariseth, a sound in the waste has birth,
+  A changing tinkle and clatter, as of gold dragged over the earth:
+  O'er Sigurd widens the day-light, and the sound is drawing close,
+  And speedier than the trample of speedy feet it goes;
+  But ever deemeth Sigurd that the sun brings back the day,
+  For the grave grows lighter and lighter and heaven o'erhead is grey.
+
+  But now, how the rattling waxeth till he may not heed nor hark!
+  And the day and the heavens are hidden, and o'er Sigurd rolls the dark,
+  As the flood of a pitchy river, and heavy-thick is the air
+  With the venom of hate long hoarded, and lies once fashioned fair:
+  Then a wan face comes from the darkness, and is wrought in manlike wise,
+  And the lips are writhed with laughter and bleared are the blinded eyes;
+  And it wandereth hither and thither, and searcheth through the grave
+  And departeth, leaving nothing, save the dark, rolled wave on wave
+  O'er the golden head of Sigurd and the edges of the sword,
+  And the world weighs heavy on Sigurd, and the weary curse of the Hoard:
+  Him-seemed the grave grew straiter, and his hope of life grew chill,
+  And his heart by the Worm was enfolded, and the bonds of the Ancient Ill.
+
+  Then was Sigurd stirred by his glory, and he strove with the swaddling
+    of Death;
+  He turned in the pit on the highway, and the grave of the Glittering
+    Heath;
+  He laughed and smote with the laughter and thrust up over his head,
+  And smote the venom asunder, and clave the heart of Dread;
+  Then he leapt from the pit and the grave, and the rushing river of blood,
+  And fulfilled with the joy of the War-God on the face of earth he stood
+  With red sword high uplifted, with wrathful glittering eyes;
+  And he laughed at the heavens above him for he saw the sun arise,
+  And Sigurd gleamed on the desert, and shone in the new-born light,
+  And the wind in his raiment wavered, and all the world was bright.
+
+  But there was the ancient Fafnir, and the Face of Terror lay
+  On the huddled folds of the Serpent, that were black and ashen-grey
+  In the desert lit by the sun; and those twain looked each on each,
+  And forth from the Face of Terror went a sound of dreadful speech:
+
+  "Child, child, who art thou that hast smitten? bright child, of whence
+    is thy birth?"
+
+  "I am called the Wild-thing Glorious, and alone I wend on the earth."
+
+  "Fierce child, and who was thy father?--Thou hast cleft the heart of the
+    Foe!"
+
+  "Am I like to the sons of men-folk, that my father I should know?"
+
+  "Wert thou born of a nameless wonder? shall the lies to my death-day
+    cling?"
+
+  "How lieth Sigurd the Volsung, and the Son of Sigmund the King?"
+
+  "O bitter father of Sigurd!--thou hast cleft mine heart atwain!"
+
+  "I arose, and I wondered and wended, and I smote, and I smote not in
+    vain."
+
+  "What master hath taught thee of murder?--Thou hast wasted Fafnir's day."
+
+  "I, Sigurd, knew and desired, and the bright sword learned the way."
+
+  "Thee, thee shall the rattling Gold and the red rings bring to the bane."
+
+  "Yet mine hand shall cast them abroad, and the earth shall gather again."
+
+  "I see thee great in thine anger, and the Norns thou heedest not."
+
+  "O Fafnir, speak of the Norns and the wisdom unforgot!"
+
+  "Let the death-doomed flee from the ocean, him the wind and the weather
+    shall drown."
+
+  "O Fafnir, tell of the Norns ere thy life thou layest adown!"
+
+  "O manifold is their kindred, and who shall tell them all?
+  There are they that rule o'er men-folk and the stars that rise and fall:
+  --I knew of the folk of the Dwarfs, and I knew their Norns of old;
+  And I fought, and I fell in the morning, and I die afar from the gold:
+  --I have seen the Gods of heaven, and their Norns withal I know:
+  They love and withhold their helping, they hate and refrain the blow;
+  They curse and they may not sunder, they bless and they shall not blend;
+  They have fashioned the good and the evil; they abide the change and the
+    end."
+
+  "O Fafnir, what of the Isle, and what hast thou known of its name,
+  Where the Gods shall mingle edges with Surt and the Sons of Flame?"
+
+  "O child, O Strong Compeller? Unshapen is its hight;
+  There the fallow blades shall be shaken and the Dark and the Day shall
+    smite,
+  When the Bridge of the Gods is broken, and their white steeds swim the
+    sea,
+  And the uttermost field is stricken, last strife of thee and me."
+
+  "What then shall endure, O Fafnir, the tale of the battle to tell?"
+
+  "I am blind, O Strong Compeller, in the bonds of Death and Hell.
+  But thee shall the rattling Gold and the red rings bring unto bane."
+
+  "Yet the rings mine hand shall scatter, and the earth shall gather again."
+
+  "Woe, woe! in the days passed over I bore the Helm of Dread,
+  I reared the Face of Terror, and the hoarded hate of the Dead:
+  I overcame and was mighty; I was wise and cherished my heart
+  In the waste where no man wandered, and the high house builded apart:
+  Till I met thine hand, O Sigurd, and thy might ordained from of old;
+  And I fought and fell in the morning, and I die far off from the Gold."
+
+  Then Sigurd leaned on his sword, and a dreadful voice went by
+  Like the wail of a God departing and the War-God's misery;
+  And strong words of ancient wisdom went by on the desert wind,
+  The words that mar and fashion, the words that loose and bind;
+  And sounds of a strange lamenting, and such strange things bewailed,
+  That words to tell their meaning the tongue of man hath failed.
+
+  Then all sank into silence, and the Son of Sigmund stood
+  On the torn and furrowed desert by the pool of Fafnir's blood,
+  And the Serpent lay before him, dead, chilly, dull, and grey;
+  And over the Glittering Heath fair shone the sun and the day,
+  And a light wind followed the sun and breathed o'er the fateful place,
+  As fresh as it furrows the sea-plain or bows the acres' face.
+
+
+    _Sigurd slayeth Regin the Master of Masters on the Glittering Heath_.
+
+  There standeth Sigurd the Volsung, and leaneth on his sword,
+  And beside him now is Greyfell and looks on his golden lord,
+  And the world is awake and living; and whither now shall they wend,
+  Who have come to the Glittering Heath, and wrought that deed to its end?
+  For hither comes Regin the Master from the skirts of the field of death,
+  And he shadeth his eyes from the sunlight as afoot he goeth and saith:
+  "Ah, let me live for a while! for a while and all shall be well,
+  When passed is the house of murder and I creep from the prison of hell."
+
+  Afoot he went o'er the desert, and he came unto Sigurd and stared
+  At the golden gear of the man, and the Wrath yet bloody and bared,
+  And the light locks raised by the wind, and the eyes beginning to smile,
+  And the lovely lips of the Volsung, and the brow that knew no guile;
+  And he murmured under his breath while his eyes grew white with wrath:
+
+  "O who art thou, and wherefore, and why art thou in the path?"
+  Then he turned to the ash-grey Serpent, and grovelled low on the ground,
+  And he drank of that pool of the blood where the stones of the wild were
+    drowned,
+  And long he lapped as a dog; but when he arose again,
+  Lo, a flock of the mountain-eagles that drew to the feastful plain;
+  And he turned and looked on Sigurd, as bright in the sun he stood,
+  A stripling fair and slender, and wiped the Wrath of the blood.
+
+  But Regin cried: "O Dwarf-kind, O many-shifting folk,
+  O shapes of might and wonder, am I too freed from the yoke,
+  That binds my soul to my body a withered thing forlorn,
+  While the short-lived fools of man-folk so fair and oft are born?
+  Now swift in the air shall I be, and young in the concourse of kings,
+  If my heart shall come to desire the gain of earthly things."
+
+  And he looked and saw how Sigurd was sheathing the Flame of War,
+  And the eagles screamed in the wind, but their voice came faint from afar:
+  Then he scowled, and crouched and darkened, and came to Sigurd and spake:
+  "O child, thou hast slain my brother, and the Wrath is alive and awake."
+
+  "Thou sayest sooth," said Sigurd, "thy deed and mine is done:
+  But now our ways shall sunder, for here, meseemeth, the sun
+  Hath but little of deeds to do, and no love to win aback."
+
+  Then Regin crouched before him, and he spake: "Fare on to the wrack!
+  Fare on to the murder of men, and the deeds of thy kindred of old!
+  And surely of thee as of them shall the tale be speedily told.
+  Thou hast slain thy Master's brother, and what wouldst thou say thereto,
+  Were the judges met for the judging and the doom-ring hallowed due?"
+
+  Then Sigurd spake as aforetime: "Thy deed and mine it was,
+  And now our ways shall sunder, and into the world will I pass."
+
+  But Regin darkened before him, and exceeding grim was he grown,
+  And he spake: "Thou hast slain my brother, and wherewith wilt thou atone?"
+
+  "Stand up, O Master," said Sigurd, "O Singer of ancient days,
+  And take the wealth I have won thee, ere we wend on the sundering ways.
+  I have toiled and thou hast desired, and the Treasure is surely anear,
+  And thou hast wisdom to find it, and I have slain thy fear."
+
+  But Regin crouched and darkened: "Thou hast slain my brother," he said.
+
+  "Take thou the Gold," quoth Sigurd, "for the ransom of my head!"
+
+  Then Regin crouched and darkened, and over the earth he hung;
+  And he said: "Thou hast slain my brother, and the Gods are yet but young."
+
+  Bright Sigurd towered above him, and the Wrath cried out in the sheath,
+  And Regin writhed against it as the adder turns on death;
+  And he spake: "Thou hast slain my brother, and to-day shalt thou be my
+    thrall:
+  Yea a King shall be my cook-boy and this heath my cooking-hall."
+
+  Then he crept to the ash-grey coils where the life of his brother had
+    lain,
+  And he drew a glaive from his side and smote the smitten and slain,
+  And tore the heart from Fafnir, while the eagles cried o'erhead,
+  And sharp and shrill was their voice o'er the entrails of the dead.
+
+  Then Regin spake to Sigurd: "Of this slaying wilt thou be free?
+  Then gather thou fire together and roast the heart for me,
+  That I may eat it and live, and be thy master and more;
+  For therein was might and wisdom, and the grudged and hoarded lore:--
+  --Or else, depart on thy ways afraid from the Glittering Heath."
+
+  Then he fell abackward and slept, nor set his sword in the sheath,
+  But his hand was red on the hilts and blue were the edges bared,
+  Ash-grey was his visage waxen, and with open eyes he stared
+  On the height of heaven above him, and a fearful thing he seemed,
+  As his soul went wide in the world, and of rule and kingship he dreamed.
+
+  But Sigurd took the Heart, and wood on the waste he found,
+  The wood that grew and died, as it crept on the niggard ground,
+  And grew and died again, and lay like whitened bones;
+  And the ernes cried over his head, as he builded his hearth of stones,
+  And kindled the fire for cooking, and sat and sang o'er the roast
+  The song of his fathers of old, and the Wolflings' gathering host:
+  So there on the Glittering Heath rose up the little flame,
+  And the dry sticks crackled amidst it, and alow the eagles came,
+  And seven they were by tale, and they pitched all round about
+  The cooking-fire of Sigurd, and sent their song-speech out:
+  But nought he knoweth its wisdom, or the word that they would speak:
+  And hot grew the Heart of Fafnir and sang amid the reek.
+
+  Then Sigurd looketh on Regin, and he deemeth it overlong
+  That he dighteth the dear-bought morsel, and the might for the Master
+    of wrong,
+  So he reacheth his hand to the roast to see if the cooking be o'er;
+  But the blood and the fat seethed from it and scalded his finger sore,
+  And he set his hand to his mouth to quench the fleshly smart,
+  And he tasted the flesh of the Serpent and the blood of Fafnir's Heart:
+  Then there came a change upon him, for the speech of fowl he knew,
+  And wise in the ways of the beast-kind as the Dwarfs of old he grew;
+  And he knitted his brows and hearkened, and wrath in his heart arose;
+  For he felt beset of evil in a world of many foes.
+  But the hilt of the Wrath he handled, and Regin's heart he saw,
+  And how that the Foe of the Gods the net of death would draw;
+  And his bright eyes flashed and sparkled, and his mouth grew set and
+    stern
+  As he hearkened the voice of the eagles, and their song began to learn.
+
+  For the first cried out in the desert: "O mighty Sigmund's son,
+  How long wilt thou sit and tarry now the dear-bought roast is done?"
+
+  And the second: "Volsung, arise! for the horns blow up to the hall,
+  And dight are the purple hangings, and the King to the feasting should
+    fall."
+
+  And the third: "How great is the feast if the eater eat aright
+  The Heart of the wisdom of old and the after-world's delight!"
+
+  And the fourth: "Yea what of Regin? shall he scatter wrack o'er the world?
+  Shall the father be slain by the son, and the brother 'gainst brother be
+    hurled?"
+
+  And the fifth: "He hath taught a stripling the gifts of a God to give:
+  He hath reared up a King for the slaying, that he alone might live."
+
+  And the sixth: "He shall waken mighty as a God that scorneth a truth;
+  He hath drunk of the blood of the Serpent, and drowned all hope and ruth."
+
+  And the seventh: "Arise, O Sigurd, lest the hour be overlate!
+  For the sun in the mid-noon shineth, and swift is the hand of Fate:
+  Arise! lest the world run backward and the blind heart have its will,
+  And once again be tangled the sundered good and ill;
+  Lest love and hatred perish, lest the world forget its tale,
+  And the Gods sit deedless, dreaming, in the high-walled heavenly vale."
+
+  Then swift ariseth Sigurd, and the Wrath in his hand is bare,
+  And he looketh, and Regin sleepeth, and his eyes wide-open glare;
+  But his lips smile false in his dreaming, and his hand is on the sword;
+  For he dreams himself the Master and the new world's fashioning-lord.
+  And his dream hath forgotten Sigurd, and the King's life lies in the pit;
+  He is nought; Death gnaweth upon him, while the Dwarfs in mastery sit.
+
+  But lo, how the eyes of Sigurd the heart of the guileful behold,
+  And great is Allfather Odin, and upriseth the Curse of the Gold,
+  And the Branstock bloometh to heaven from the ancient wondrous root;
+  The summer hath shone on its blossoms, and Sigurd's Wrath is the fruit:
+  Dread then he cried in the desert: "Guile-master, lo thy deed!
+  Hast thou nurst my life for destruction, and my death to serve thy need?
+  Hast thou kept me here for the net and the death that tame things die?
+  Hast thou feared me overmuch, thou Foe of the Gods on high?
+  Lest the sword thine hand was wielding should turn about and cleave
+  The tangled web of nothing thou hadst wearied thyself to weave.
+  Lo here the sword and the stroke! judge the Norns betwixt us twain!
+  But for me, I will live and die not, nor shall all my hope be vain."
+  Then his second stroke struck Sigurd, for the Wrath flashed thin and white,
+  And 'twixt head and trunk of Regin fierce ran the fateful light;
+  And there lay brother by brother a faded thing and wan.
+  But Sigurd cried in the desert: "So far have I wended on!
+  Dead are the foes of God-home that would blend the good and the ill;
+  And the World shall yet be famous, and the Gods shall have their will.
+  Nor shall I be dead and forgotten, while the earth grows worse and worse,
+  With the blind heart king o'er the people, and binding curse with curse."
+
+
+    _How Sigurd took to him the Treasure of the Elf Andvari._
+
+  Now Sigurd eats of the heart that once in the Dwarf-king lay,
+  The hoard of the wisdom begrudged, the might of the earlier day.
+  Then wise of heart was he waxen, but longing in him grew
+  To sow the seed he had gotten, and till the field he knew.
+  So he leapeth aback of Greyfell, and rideth the desert bare,
+  And the hollow slot of Fafnir, that led to the Serpent's lair.
+  Then long he rode adown it, and the ernes flew overhead,
+  And tidings great and glorious of that Treasure of old they said.
+  So far o'er the waste he wended, and when the night was come
+  He saw the earth-old dwelling, the dread Gold-wallower's home:
+  On the skirts of the Heath it was builded by a tumbled stony bent;
+  High went that house to the heavens, down 'neath the earth it went,
+  Of unwrought iron fashioned for the heart of a greedy king:
+  'Twas a mountain, blind without, and within was its plenishing
+  But the Hoard of Andvari the ancient, and the sleeping Curse unseen,
+  The Gold of the Gods that spared not and the greedy that have been.
+  Through the door strode Sigurd the Volsung, and the grey moon and the
+    sword
+  Fell in on the tawny gold-heaps of the ancient hapless Hoard:
+  Gold gear of hosts unburied, and the coin of cities dead,
+  Great spoil of the ages of battle, lay there on the Serpent's bed:
+  Huge blocks from mid-earth quarried, where none but the Dwarfs have mined,
+  Wide sands of the golden rivers no foot of man may find
+  Lay 'neath the spoils of the mighty and the ruddy rings of yore:
+  But amidst was the Helm of Aweing that the Fear of earth-folk bore,
+  And there gleamed a wonder beside it, the Hauberk all of gold,
+  Whose like is not in the heavens nor has earth of its fellow told:
+  There Sigurd seeth moreover Andvari's Ring of Gain,
+  The hope of Loki's finger, the Ransom's utmost grain;
+  For it shone on the midmost gold-heap like the first star set in the sky
+  In the yellow space of even when moon-rise draweth anigh.
+  Then laughed the Son of Sigmund, and stooped to the golden land,
+  And gathered that first of the harvest and set it on his hand;
+  And he did on the Helm of Aweing, and the Hauberk all of gold,
+  Whose like is not in the heavens nor has earth of its fellow told:
+  Then he praised the day of the Volsungs amid the yellow light,
+  And he set his hand to the labour and put forth his kingly might;
+  He dragged forth gold to the moon, on the desert's face he laid
+  The innermost earth's adornment, and rings for the nameless made;
+  He toiled and loaded Greyfell, and the cloudy war-steed shone
+  And the gear of Sigurd rattled in the flood of moonlight wan;
+  There he toiled and loaded Greyfell, and the Volsung's armour rang
+  Mid the yellow bed of the Serpent: but without the eagles sang:
+
+  "Bind the red rings, O Sigurd! let the gold shine free and clear!
+  For what hath the Son of the Volsungs the ancient Curse to fear?"
+
+  "Bind the red rings, O Sigurd! for thy tale is well begun,
+  And the world shall be good and gladdened by the Gold lit up by the sun."
+
+  "Bind the red rings, O Sigurd, and gladden all thine heart!
+  For the world shall make thee merry ere thou and she depart."
+
+  "Bind the red rings, O Sigurd! for the ways go green below,
+  Go green to the dwelling of Kings, and the halls that the Queen-folk
+    know."
+
+  "Bind the red rings, O Sigurd! for what is there bides by the way,
+  Save the joy of folk to awaken, and the dawn of the merry day?"
+
+  "Bind the red rings, O Sigurd! for the strife awaits thine hand,
+  And a plenteous war-field's reaping, and the praise of many a land."
+
+  "Bind the red rings, O Sigurd! But how shall store-house hold
+  That glory of thy winning and the tidings to be told?"
+
+  Now the moon was dead, and the star-worlds were great on the heavenly
+    plain,
+  When the steed was fully laden; then Sigurd taketh the rein
+  And turns to the ruined rock-wall that the lair was built beneath,
+  For there he deemed was the gate and the door of the Glittering Heath,
+  But not a whit moved Greyfell for aught that the King might do;
+  Then Sigurd pondered a while, till the heart of the beast he knew,
+  And clad in all his war-gear he leaped to the saddle-stead,
+  And with pride and mirth neighed Greyfell and tossed aloft his head,
+  And sprang unspurred o'er the waste, and light and swift he went,
+  And breasted the broken rampart, the stony tumbled bent;
+  And over the brow he clomb, and there beyond was the world,
+  A place of many mountains and great crags together hurled.
+  So down to the west he wendeth, and goeth swift and light,
+  And the stars are beginning to wane, and the day is mingled with night;
+  For full fain was the sun to arise and look on the Gold set free,
+  And the Dwarf-wrought rings of the Treasure and the gifts from the floor
+    of the sea.
+
+
+    _How Sigurd awoke Brynhild upon Hindfell._
+
+  By long roads rideth Sigurd amidst that world of stone,
+  And somewhat south he turneth; for he would not be alone,
+  But longs for the dwellings of man-folk, and the kingly people's speech,
+  And the days of the glee and the joyance, where men laugh each to each.
+  But still the desert endureth, and afar must Greyfell fare
+  From the wrack of the Glittering Heath, and Fafnir's golden lair.
+  Long Sigurd rideth the waste, when, lo, on a morning of day
+  From out of the tangled crag-walls, amidst the cloud-land grey
+  Comes up a mighty mountain, and it is as though there burns
+  A torch amidst of its cloud-wreath; so thither Sigurd turns,
+  For he deems indeed from its topmost to look on the best of the earth;
+  And Greyfell neigheth beneath him, and his heart is full of mirth.
+
+  So he rideth higher and higher, and the light grows great and strange,
+  And forth from the clouds it flickers, till at noon they gather and
+    change,
+  And settle thick on the mountain, and hide its head from sight;
+  But the winds in a while are awakened, and day bettereth ere the night,
+  And, lifted a measureless mass o'er the desert crag-walls high,
+  Cloudless the mountain riseth against the sunset sky,
+  The sea of the sun grown golden, as it ebbs from the day's desire;
+  And the light that afar was a torch is grown a river of fire,
+  And the mountain is black above it, and below is it dark and dun;
+  And there is the head of Hindfell as an island in the sun.
+
+  Night falls, but yet rides Sigurd, and hath no thought of rest,
+  For he longs to climb that rock-world and behold the earth at its best;
+  But now mid the maze of the foot-hills he seeth the light no more,
+  And the stars are lovely and gleaming on the lightless heavenly floor.
+  So up and up he wendeth till the night is wearing thin;
+  And he rideth a rift of the mountain, and all is dark therein,
+  Till the stars are dimmed by dawning and the wakening world is cold;
+  Then afar in the upper rock-wall a breach doth he behold,
+  And a flood of light poured inward the doubtful dawning blinds:
+  So swift he rideth thither and the mouth of the breach he finds,
+  And sitteth awhile on Greyfell on the marvellous thing to gaze:
+  For lo, the side of Hindfell enwrapped by the fervent blaze,
+  And nought 'twixt earth and heaven save a world of flickering flame,
+  And a hurrying shifting tangle, where the dark rents went and came.
+
+  Great groweth the heart of Sigurd with uttermost desire,
+  And he crieth kind to Greyfell, and they hasten up, and nigher,
+  Till he draweth rein in the dawning on the face of Hindfell's steep:
+  But who shall heed the dawning where the tongues of that wildfire leap?
+  For they weave a wavering wall, that driveth over the heaven
+  The wind that is born within it; nor ever aside is it driven
+  By the mightiest wind of the waste, and the rain-flood amidst it is
+    nought;
+  And no wayfarer's door and no window the hand of its builder hath wrought.
+  But thereon is the Volsung smiling as its breath uplifteth his hair,
+  And his eyes shine bright with its image, and his mail gleams white and
+    fair,
+  And his war-helm pictures the heavens and the waning stars behind:
+  But his neck is Greyfell stretching to snuff at the flame-wall blind,
+  And his cloudy flank upheaveth, and tinkleth the knitted mail,
+  And the gold of the uttermost waters is waxen wan and pale.
+
+  Now Sigurd turns in his saddle, and the hilt of the Wrath he shifts,
+  And draws a girth the tighter; then the gathered reins he lifts,
+  And crieth aloud to Greyfell, and rides at the wildfire's heart;
+  But the white wall wavers before him and the flame-flood rusheth apart,
+  And high o'er his head it riseth, and wide and wild is its roar
+  As it beareth the mighty tidings to the very heavenly floor:
+  But he rideth through its roaring as the warrior rides the rye,
+  When it bows with the wind of the summer and the hid spears draw anigh;
+  The white flame licks his raiment and sweeps through Greyfell's mane,
+  And bathes both hands of Sigurd and the hilts of Fafnir's bane,
+  And winds about his war-helm and mingles with his hair,
+  But nought his raiment dusketh or dims his glittering gear;
+  Then it fails and fades and darkens till all seems left behind,
+  And dawn and the blaze is swallowed in mid-mirk stark and blind.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+  But forth a little further and a little further on
+  And all is calm about him, and he sees the scorched earth wan
+  Beneath a glimmering twilight, and he turns his conquering eyes,
+  And a ring of pale slaked ashes on the side of Hindfell lies;
+  And the world of the waste is beyond it; and all is hushed and grey,
+  And the new-risen moon is a-paleing, and the stars grow faint with day.
+  Then Sigurd looked before him and a Shield-burg there he saw,
+  A wall of the tiles of Odin wrought clear without a flaw,
+  The gold by the silver gleaming, and the ruddy by the white;
+  And the blazonings of their glory were done upon them bright,
+  As of dear things wrought for the war-lords new come to Odin's hall.
+  Piled high aloft to the heavens uprose that battle-wall,
+  And far o'er the topmost shield-rim for a banner of fame there hung
+  A glorious golden buckler; and against the staff it rung
+  As the earliest wind of dawning uprose on Hindfell's face
+  And the light from the yellowing east beamed soft on the shielded place.
+
+  But the Wrath cried out in answer as Sigurd leapt adown
+  To the wasted soil of the desert by that rampart of renown;
+  He looked but little beneath it, and the dwelling of God it seemed,
+  As against its gleaming silence the eager Sigurd gleamed:
+  He draweth not sword from scabbard, as the wall he wendeth around,
+  And it is but the wind and Sigurd that wakeneth any sound:
+  But, lo, to the gate he cometh, and the doors are open wide,
+  And no warder the way withstandeth, and no earls by the threshold abide;
+  So he stands awhile and marvels; then the baleful light of the Wrath
+  Gleams bare in his ready hand as he wendeth the inward path:
+  For he doubteth some guile of the Gods, or perchance some Dwarf-king's
+    snare,
+  Or a mock of the Giant people that shall fade in the morning air:
+  But he getteth him in and gazeth; and a wall doth he behold,
+  And the ruddy set by the white, and the silver by the gold;
+  But within the garth that it girdeth no work of man is set,
+  But the utmost head of Hindfell ariseth higher yet;
+  And below in the very midmost is a Giant-fashioned mound,
+  Piled high as the rims of the Shield-burg above the level ground;
+  And there, on that mound of the Giants, o'er the wilderness forlorn,
+  A pale grey image lieth, and gleameth in the morn.
+
+  So there was Sigurd alone; and he went from the shielded door,
+  And aloft in the desert of wonder the Light of the Branstock he bore;
+  And he set his face to the earth-mound, and beheld the image wan,
+  And the dawn was growing about it; and, lo, the shape of a man
+  Set forth to the eyeless desert on the tower-top of the world,
+  High over the cloud-wrought castle whence the windy bolts are hurled.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+  Now he comes to the mound and climbs it, and will see if the man be dead;
+  Some King of the days forgotten laid there with crownèd head,
+  Or the frame of a God, it may be, that in heaven hath changed his life,
+  Or some glorious heart belovèd, God-rapt from the earthly strife:
+  Now over the body he standeth, and seeth it shapen fair,
+  And clad from head to foot-sole in pale grey-glittering gear,
+  In a hauberk wrought as straitly as though to the flesh it were grown:
+  But a great helm hideth the head and is girt with a glittering crown.
+
+  So thereby he stoopeth and kneeleth, for he deems it were good indeed
+  If the breath of life abide there and the speech to help at need;
+  And as sweet as the summer wind from a garden under the sun
+  Cometh forth on the topmost Hindfell the breath of that sleeping-one.
+  Then he saith he will look on the face, if it bear him love or hate,
+  Or the bonds for his life's constraining, or the sundering doom of fate.
+  So he draweth the helm from the head, and, lo, the brow snow-white,
+  And the smooth unfurrowed cheeks, and the wise lips breathing light;
+  And the face of a woman it is, and the fairest that ever was born,
+  Shown forth to the empty heavens and the desert world forlorn:
+  But he looketh, and loveth her sore, and he longeth her spirit to move,
+  And awaken her heart to the world, that she may behold him and love.
+  And he toucheth her breast and her hands, and he loveth her passing sore;
+  And he saith: "Awake! I am Sigurd;" but she moveth never the more.
+
+  Then he looked on his bare bright blade, and he said: "Thou--what wilt
+    thou do?
+  For indeed as I came by the war-garth thy voice of desire I knew."
+  Bright burnt the pale blue edges for the sunrise drew anear,
+  And the rims of the Shield-burg glittered, and the east was exceeding
+    clear:
+  So the eager edges he setteth to the Dwarf-wrought battle-coat
+  Where the hammered ring-knit collar constraineth the woman's throat;
+  But the sharp Wrath biteth and rendeth, and before it fail the rings,
+  And, lo, the gleam of the linen, and the light of golden things:
+  Then he driveth the blue steel onward, and through the skirt, and out,
+  Till nought but the rippling linen is wrapping her about;
+  Then he deems her breath comes quicker and her breast begins to heave,
+  So he turns about the War-Flame and rends down either sleeve,
+  Till her arms lie white in her raiment, and a river of sun-bright hair
+  Flows free o'er bosom and shoulder and floods the desert bare.
+
+  Then a flush cometh over her visage and a sigh upheaveth her breast,
+  And her eyelids quiver and open, and she wakeneth into rest;
+  Wide-eyed on the dawning she gazeth, too glad to change or smile,
+  And but little moveth her body, nor speaketh she yet for a while;
+  And yet kneels Sigurd moveless her wakening speech to heed,
+  While soft the waves of the daylight o'er the starless heavens speed,
+  And the gleaming rims of the Shield-burg yet bright and brighter grow,
+  And the thin moon hangeth her horns dead-white in the golden glow.
+  Then she turned and gazed on Sigurd, and her eyes met the Volsung's eyes.
+  And mighty and measureless now did the tide of his love arise,
+  For their longing had met and mingled, and he knew of her heart that she
+    loved,
+  As she spake unto nothing but him and her lips with the speech-flood
+    moved:
+
+  "O, what is the thing so mighty that my weary sleep hath torn,
+  And rent the fallow bondage, and the wan woe over-worn?"
+
+  He said: "The hand of Sigurd and the Sword of Sigmund's son,
+  And the heart that the Volsungs fashioned this deed for thee have done."
+
+  But she said: "Where then is Odin that laid me here alow?
+  Long lasteth the grief of the world, and man-folk's tangled woe!"
+
+  "He dwelleth above," said Sigurd, "but I on the earth abide,
+  And I came from the Glittering Heath the waves of thy fire to ride."
+
+  But therewith the sun rose upward and lightened all the earth,
+  And the light flashed up to the heavens from the rims of the glorious
+    girth;
+  But they twain arose together, and with both her palms outspread,
+  And bathed in the light returning, she cried aloud and said:
+
+  "All hail O Day and thy Sons, and thy kin of the coloured things!
+  Hail, following Night, and thy Daughter that leadeth thy wavering wings!
+  Look down with unangry eyes on us to-day alive,
+  And give us the hearts victorious, and the gain for which we strive!
+  All hail, ye Lords of God-home, and ye Queens of the House of Gold!
+  Hail thou dear Earth that bearest, and thou Wealth of field and fold!
+  Give us, your noble children, the glory of wisdom and speech,
+  And the hearts and the hands of healing, and the mouths and hands that
+    teach!"
+
+  Then they turned and were knit together; and oft and o'er again
+  They craved, and kissed rejoicing, and their hearts were full and fain.
+
+  Then Sigurd looketh upon her, and the words from his heart arise:
+  "Thou art the fairest of earth, and the wisest of the wise;
+  O who art thou that lovest? I am Sigurd, e'en as I told;
+  I have slain the Foe of the Gods, and gotten the Ancient Gold;
+  And great were the gain of thy love, and the gift of mine earthly days,
+  If we twain should never sunder as we wend on the changing ways.
+  O who art thou that lovest, thou fairest of all things born?
+  And what meaneth thy sleep and thy slumber in the wilderness forlorn?"
+
+  She said: "I am she that loveth: I was born of the earthly folk,
+  But of old Allfather took me from the Kings and their wedding yoke:
+  And he called me the Victory-Wafter, and I went and came as he would,
+  And I chose the slain for his war-host, and the days were glorious and
+    good,
+  Till the thoughts of my heart overcame me, and the pride of my wisdom
+    and speech,
+  And I scorned the earth-folk's Framer and the Lord of the world I must
+    teach:
+  For the death-doomed I caught from the sword, and the fated life I slew,
+  And I deemed that my deeds were goodly, and that long I should do and
+    undo.
+  But Allfather came against me and the God in his wrath arose;
+  And he cried: 'Thou hast thought in thy folly that the Gods have friends
+    and foes,
+  That they wake, and the world wends onward, that they sleep, and the
+    world slips back,
+  That they laugh, and the world's weal waxeth, that they frown and
+    fashion the wrack:
+  Thou hast cast up the curse against me; it shall fall aback on thine
+    head;
+  Go back to the sons of repentance, with the children of sorrow wed!
+  For the Gods are great unholpen, and their grief is seldom seen,
+  And the wrong that they will and must be is soon as it hath not been.'
+
+  "Yet I thought: 'Shall I wed in the world, shall I gather grief on the
+    earth?
+  Then the fearless heart shall I wed, and bring the best to birth,
+  And fashion such tales for the telling, that Earth shall be holpen at
+    least,
+  If the Gods think scorn of its fairness, as they sit at the changeless
+    feast.'
+
+  "Then somewhat smiled Allfather; and he spake: 'So let it be!
+  The doom thereof abideth; the doom of me and thee.
+  Yet long shall the time pass over ere thy waking-day be born:
+  Fare forth, and forget and be weary 'neath the Sting of the Sleepful
+    Thorn!'
+
+  "So I came to the head of Hindfell and the ruddy shields and white,
+  And the wall of the wildfire wavering around the isle of night;
+  And there the Sleep-thorn pierced me, and the slumber on me fell,
+  And the night of nameless sorrows that hath no tale to tell.
+  Now I am she that loveth; and the day is nigh at hand
+  When I, who have ridden the sea-realm and the regions of the land,
+  And dwelt in the measureless mountains and the forge of stormy days,
+  Shall dwell in the house of my fathers and the land of the people's
+    praise;
+  And there shall hand meet hand, and heart by heart shall beat,
+  And the lying-down shall be joyous, and the morn's uprising sweet.
+  Lo now, I look on thine heart and behold of thine inmost will,
+  That thou of the days wouldst hearken that our portion shall fulfill;
+  But O, be wise of man-folk, and the hope of thine heart refrain!
+  As oft in the battle's beginning ye vex the steed with the rein,
+  Lest at last in its latter ending, when the sword hath hushed the horn,
+  His limbs should be weary and fail, and his might be over-worn.
+  O be wise, lest thy love constrain me, and my vision wax o'er-clear,
+  And thou ask of the thing that thou shouldst not, and the thing that
+    thou wouldst not hear.
+
+  "Know thou, most mighty of men, that the Norns shall order all,
+  And yet without thine helping shall no whit of their will befall;
+  Be wise! 'tis a marvel of words, and a mock for the fool and the blind;
+  But I saw it writ in the heavens, and its fashioning there did I find:
+  And the night of the Norns and their slumber, and the tide when the world
+    runs back,
+  And the way of the sun is tangled, it is wrought of the dastard's lack.
+  But the day when the fair earth blossoms, and the sun is bright above,
+  Of the daring deeds is it fashioned and the eager hearts of love.
+
+  "Be wise, and cherish thine hope in the freshness of the days,
+  And scatter its seed from thine hand in the field of the people's praise;
+  Then fair shall it fall in the furrow, and some the earth shall speed,
+  And the sons of men shall marvel at the blossom of the deed:
+  But some the earth shall speed not; nay rather, the wind of the heaven
+  Shall waft it away from thy longing--and a gift to the Gods hast thou
+    given,
+  And a tree for the roof and the wall in the house of the hope that
+    shall be,
+  Though it seemeth our very sorrow, and the grief of thee and me.
+
+  "Strive not with the fools of man-folk: for belike thou shalt overcome;
+  And what then is the gain of thine hunting when thou bearest the quarry
+    home?
+  Or else shall the fool overcome thee, and what deed thereof shall grow?
+  Nay, strive with the wise man rather, and increase thy woe and his woe;
+  Yet thereof a gain hast thou gotten; and the half of thine heart hast
+    thou won
+  If thou mayst prevail against him, and his deeds are the deeds thou hast
+    done:
+  Yea, and if thou fall before him, in him shalt thou live again,
+  And thy deeds in his hand shall blossom, and his heart of thine heart
+    shall be fain.
+
+  "When thou hearest the fool rejoicing, and he saith, 'It is over and past,
+  And the wrong was better than right, and hate turns into love at the last,
+  And we strove for nothing at all, and the Gods are fallen asleep;
+  For so good is the world a growing that the evil good shall reap:'
+  Then loosen thy sword in the scabbard and settle the helm on thine head,
+  For men betrayed are mighty, and great are the wrongfully dead.
+
+  "Wilt thou do the deed and repent it? thou hadst better never been born:
+  Wilt thou do the deed and exalt it? then thy fame shall be outworn:
+  Thou shalt do the deed and abide it, and sit on thy throne on high,
+  And look on to-day and to-morrow as those that never die.
+
+  "Love thou the Gods--and withstand them, lest thy fame should fail in
+    the end,
+  And thou be but their thrall and their bondsman, who wert born for their
+    very friend:
+  For few things from the Gods are hidden, and the hearts of men they know,
+  And how that none rejoiceth to quail and crouch alow.
+
+  "I have spoken the words, belovèd, to thy matchless glory and worth;
+  But thy heart to my heart hath been speaking, though my tongue hath set
+    it forth:
+  For I am she that loveth, and I know what thou wouldst teach
+  From the heart of thine unlearned wisdom, and I needs must speak thy
+    speech."
+
+  Then words were weary and silent, but oft and o'er again
+  They craved and kissed rejoicing, and their hearts were full and fain.
+
+  Then spake the Son of Sigmund: "Fairest, and most of worth,
+  Hast thou seen the ways of man-folk and the regions of the earth?
+  Then speak yet more of wisdom; for most meet meseems it is
+  That my soul to thy soul be shapen, and that I should know thy bliss."
+
+  So she took his right hand meekly, nor any word would say,
+  Not e'en of love or praising, his longing to delay;
+  And they sat on the side of Hindfell, and their fain eyes looked and
+    loved,
+  As she told of the hidden matters whereby the world is moved:
+  And she told of the framing of all things, and the houses of the heaven;
+  And she told of the star-worlds' courses, and how the winds be driven;
+  And she told of the Norns and their names, and the fate that abideth
+    the earth;
+  And she told of the ways of King-folk in their anger and their mirth;
+  And she spake of the love of women, and told of the flame that burns,
+  And the fall of mighty houses, and the friend that falters and turns,
+  And the lurking blinded vengeance, and the wrong that amendeth wrong,
+  And the hand that repenteth its stroke, and the grief that endureth for
+    long;
+  And how man shall bear and forbear, and be master of all that is;
+  And how man shall measure it all, the wrath, and the grief, and the bliss.
+
+  "I saw the body of Wisdom, and of shifting guise was she wrought,
+  And I stretched out my hands to hold her, and a mote of the dust they
+    caught;
+  And I prayed her to come for my teaching, and she came in the midnight
+    dream--
+  And I woke and might not remember, nor betwixt her tangle deem:
+  She spake, and how might I hearken; I heard, and how might I know;
+  I knew, and how might I fashion, or her hidden glory show?
+  All things I have told thee of Wisdom are but fleeting images
+  Of her hosts that abide in the Heavens, and her light that Allfather sees:
+  Yet wise is the sower that sows, and wise is the reaper that reaps,
+  And wise is the smith in his smiting, and wise is the warder that keeps:
+  And wise shalt thou be to deliver, and I shall be wise to desire;
+  --And lo, the tale that is told, and the sword and the wakening fire!
+  Lo now, I am she that loveth, and hark how Greyfell neighs,
+  And Fafnir's Bed is gleaming, and green go the downward ways.
+  The road to the children of men and the deeds that thou shalt do
+  In the joy of thy life-days' morning, when thine hope is fashioned anew.
+  Come now, O Bane of the Serpent, for now is the high-noon come,
+  And the sun hangeth over Hindfell and looks on the earth-folk's home;
+  But the soul is so great within thee, and so glorious are thine eyes,
+  And me so love constraineth, and mine heart that was called the wise,
+  That we twain may see men's dwellings and the house where we shall dwell,
+  And the place of our life's beginning, where the tale shall be to tell."
+
+  So they climb the burg of Hindfell, and hand in hand they fare,
+  Till all about and above them is nought but the sunlit air,
+  And there close they cling together rejoicing in their mirth;
+  For far away beneath them lie the kingdoms of the earth,
+  And the garths of men-folk's dwellings and the streams that water them,
+  And the rich and plenteous acres, and the silver ocean's hem,
+  And the woodland wastes and the mountains, and all that holdeth all;
+  The house and the ship and the island, the loom and the mine and the
+    stall,
+  The beds of bane and healing, the crafts that slay and save,
+  The temple of God and the Doom-ring, the cradle and the grave.
+
+  Then spake the Victory-Wafter: "O King of the Earthly Age,
+  As a God thou beholdest the treasure and the joy of thine heritage,
+  And where on the wings of his hope is the spirit of Sigurd borne?
+  Yet I bid thee hover awhile as a lark alow on the corn;
+  Yet I bid thee look on the land 'twixt the wood and the silver sea
+  In the bight of the swirling river, and the house that cherished me!
+  There dwelleth mine earthly sister and the king that she hath wed;
+  There morn by morn aforetime I woke on the golden bed;
+  There eve by eve I tarried mid the speech and the lays of kings;
+  There noon by noon I wandered and plucked the blossoming things;
+  The little land of Lymdale by the swirling river's side,
+  Where Brynhild once was I called in the days ere my father died;
+  The little land of Lymdale 'twixt the woodland and the sea,
+  Where on thee mine eyes shall brighten and thine eyes shall beam on me."
+
+  "I shall seek thee there," said Sigurd, "when the day-spring is begun,
+  Ere we wend the world together in the season of the sun."
+
+  "I shall bide thee there," said Brynhild, "till the fullness of the days,
+  And the time for the glory appointed, and the springing-tide of praise."
+
+  From his hand then draweth Sigurd Andvari's ancient Gold;
+  There is nought but the sky above them as the ring together they hold,
+  The shapen ancient token, that hath no change nor end,
+  No change, and no beginning, no flaw for God to mend:
+  Then Sigurd cries: "O Brynhild, now hearken while I swear,
+  That the sun shall die in the heavens and the day no more be fair,
+  If I seek not love in Lymdale and the house that fostered thee,
+  And the land where thou awakedst 'twixt the woodland and the sea!"
+
+  And she cried: "O Sigurd, Sigurd, now hearken while I swear
+  That the day shall die for ever and the sun to blackness wear,
+  Ere I forget thee, Sigurd, as I lie 'twixt wood and sea
+  In the little land of Lymdale and the house that fostered me!"
+
+  Then he set the ring on her finger and once, if ne'er again,
+  They kissed and clung together, and their hearts were full and fain.
+
+  So the day grew old about them and the joy of their desire,
+  And eve and the sunset came, and faint grew the sunset fire,
+  And the shadowless death of the day was sweet in the golden tide;
+  But the stars shone forth on the world, and the twilight changed and
+    died;
+  And sure if the first of man-folk had been born to that starry night,
+  And had heard no tale of the sunrise, he had never longed for the light:
+  But Earth longed amidst her slumber, as 'neath the night she lay,
+  And fresh and all abundant abode the deeds of Day.
+
+
+  THE END.
+
+
+
+
+  PRINTING OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHER.
+
+
+
+
+  _Sold by all the principal booksellers on the Continent_.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+  January   1886.
+
+  TAUCHNITZ EDITION.
+
+  Each volume 1 Mark 60 Pf. or 2 Francs.
+
+_This Collection of British Authors, Tautchnitz Edition, will contain
+the new works of the most admired English and American Writers,
+immediately on their appearance, with copyright for continental
+circulation._
+
+
+
+
+  Contents:
+
+  Collection of British Authors, vol. 1-2377      _Page_ 2-13.
+
+  Collection of German Authors, vol. 1-47            "     14.
+
+  Series for the Young, vol. 1-30                    "     15.
+
+  Manuals of Conversation                            "     15.
+
+  Dictionaries                                       "     16.
+
+
+  Latest Volumes:
+
+  The Heir Presumptive. By _Florence Marryat_, 2 vols.
+
+  Othmar. By _Ouida_, 3 vols.
+
+  The Luck of the Darrells. By _James Payn_, 2 vols.
+
+  A Girton Girl. By Mrs. _Annie Edwardes_, 2 vols.
+
+  Murder or Manslaughter? By _Helen Mathers_, 1 v.
+
+  Andromeda. By _George Fleming_, 2 vols.
+
+  Maruja. By _Bret Harte_, 1 vol.
+
+  A Second Life. By Mrs. _Alexander_, 3 vols.
+
+  Colonel Enderby's Wife. By _Lucas Malet_, 2 vols.
+
+  A Family Affair. By _Hugh Conway_, 2 vols.
+
+
+
+
+  Collection of British Authors.
+
+
+  Rev. W. Adams:
+    Sacred Allegories 1 v.
+
+  Miss Aguilar:
+    Home Influence 2 v.
+    The Mother's Recompense 2 v.
+
+  Hamilton Aïdé:
+    Rita 1 v.
+    Carr of Carrlyon 2 v.
+    The Marstons 2 v.
+    In that State of Life 1 v.
+    Morals and Mysteries 1 v.
+    Penruddocke 2 v.
+    "A nine Days' Wonder" 1 v.
+    Poet and Peer 2 v.
+    Introduced to Society 1 v.
+
+  W. Harrison Ainsworth:
+    Windsor Castle 1 v.
+    Saint James's 1 v.
+    Jack Sheppard (w. portrait) 1 v.
+    The Lancashire Witches 2 v.
+    The Star-Chamber 2 v.
+    The Flitch of Bacon 1 v.
+    The Spendthrift 1 v.
+    Mervyn Clitheroe 2 v.
+    Ovingdean Grange 1 v.
+    The Constable of the Tower 1 v.
+    The Lord Mayor of London 2 v.
+    Cardinal Pole 2 v.
+    John Law 2 v.
+    The Spanish Match 2 v.
+    The Constable de Bourbon 2 v.
+    Old Court 2 v.
+    Myddleton Pomfret 2 v.
+    The South-Sea Bubble 2 v.
+    Hilary St. Ives 2 v.
+    Talbot Harland 1 v.
+    Tower Hill 1 v.
+    Boscobel; or, the Royal Oak 2 v.
+    The Good Old Times 2 v.
+    Merry England 2 v.
+    The Goldsmith's Wife 2 v.
+    Preston Fight 2 v.
+    Chetwynd Calverley 2 v.
+    The Leaguer of Lathom 2 v.
+    The Fall of Somerset 2 v.
+    Beatrice Tyldesley 2 v.
+    Beau Nash 2 v.
+    Stanley Brereton 2 v.
+
+  L. M. Alcott:
+    Little Women 2 v.
+    Little Men 1 v.
+    An Old-Fashioned Girl 1 v.
+
+  Mrs. Alexander:
+    A Second Life 3 v.
+
+  Alice, Grand Duchess of Hesse (with Portrait) 2 v.
+
+  "All for Greed," Author of--
+    All for Greed 1 v.
+    Love the Avenger 2 v.
+
+  Thomas Bailey Aldrich:
+    Marjorie Daw and other Tales 1 v.
+    The Stillwater Tragedy 1 v.
+
+  L. Alldridge:
+    By Love and Law 2 v.
+    The World she Awoke in 2 v.
+
+  F. Anstey:
+    The Giant's Robe 2 v.
+
+  Miss Austen:
+    Sense and Sensibility 1 v.
+    Mansfield Park 1 v.
+    Pride and Prejudice 1 v.
+    Northanger Abbey, and Persuasion 1 v.
+    Emma 1 v.
+
+  Lady Barker:
+    Station Life in New Zealand 1 v.
+    Station Amusements in New Zealand 1 v.
+    A Year's Housekeeping in South Africa 1 v.
+    Letters to Guy & A Distant Shore--Rodrigues 1 v.
+
+  Rev. R. H. Baynes:
+    Lyra Anglicana, Hymns & Sacred Songs 1 v.
+
+  Lord Beaconsfield:
+    _vide_ Disraeli.
+
+  Averil Beaumont:
+    Thornicroft's Model 2 v.
+
+  Currer Bell (Charlotte Brontë):
+    Jane Eyre 2 v.
+    Shirley 2 v.
+    Villette 2 v.
+    The Professor 1 v.
+
+  Ellis & Acton Bell:
+    Wuthering Heights, and Agnes Grey 2 v.
+
+  Frank Lee Benedict:
+    St. Simon's Niece 2 v.
+
+  Walter Besant:
+    The Revolt of Man 1 v.
+    The Golden Butterfly by Besant and Rice 2 v.
+    Ready-Money Mortiboy by Besant and Rice 2 v.
+    Dorothy Forster 2 v.
+
+  W. Black:
+    A Daughter of Heth 2 v.
+    In Silk Attire 2 v.
+    The strange Adventures of a Phaeton 2 v.
+    A Princess of Thule 2 v.
+    Kilmeny 1 v.
+    The Maid of Killeena 1 v.
+    Three Feathers 2 v.
+    Lady Silverdale's Sweetheart 1 v.
+    Madcap Violet 2 v.
+    Green Pastures and Piccadilly 2 v.
+    Macleod of Dare 2 v.
+    White Wings 2 v.
+    Sunrise 2 v.
+    The Beautiful Wretch 1 v.
+    Mr. Pisistratus Brown, M.P., etc. 1 v.
+    Shandon Bells (w. portrait) 2 v.
+    Judith Shakespeare 2 v.
+    The Wise Women of Inverness 1 v.
+
+  R. D. Blackmore:
+    Alice Lorraine 2 v.
+    Mary Anerley 3 v.
+    Christowell 2 v.
+    Tommy Upmore 2 v.
+
+  "Blackwood."
+    Tales from-- 1 v.
+    _Second Series_ 1 v.
+
+  Isa Blagden:
+    The Woman I loved, and the Woman who loved me; A Tuscan Wedding 1 v.
+
+  Lady Blessington:
+    Meredith 1 v.
+    Strathern 2 v.
+    Memoirs of a Femme de Chambre 1 v.
+    Marmaduke Herbert 2 v.
+    Country Quarters (w. portrait) 2 v.
+
+  Baroness Bloomfield:
+    Reminiscences of Court and Diplomatic Life (w. Portrait of Her Majesty
+      the Queen) 2 v.
+
+  Miss Braddon:
+    Lady Audley's Secret 2 v.
+    Aurora Floyd 2 v.
+    Eleanor's Victory 2 v.
+    John Marchmont's Legacy 2 v.
+    Henry Dunbar 2 v.
+    The Doctor's Wife 2 v.
+    Only a Clod 2 v.
+    Sir Jasper's Tenant 2 v.
+    The Lady's Mile 2 v.
+    Rupert Godwin 2 v.
+    Dead-Sea Fruit 2 v.
+    Run to Earth 2 v.
+    Fenton's Quest 2 v.
+    The Lovels of Arden 2 v.
+    Strangers and Pilgrims 2 v.
+    Lucius Davoren 3 v.
+    Taken at the Flood 3 v.
+    Lost for Love 2 v.
+    A Strange World 2 v.
+    Hostages to Fortune 2 v.
+    Dead Men's Shoes 2 v.
+    Joshua Haggard's Daughter 2 v.
+    Weavers and Weft 1 v.
+    In Great Waters 1 v.
+    An Open Verdict 3 v.
+    Vixen 3 v.
+    The Cloven Foot 3 v.
+    The Story of Barbara 2 v.
+    Just as I am 2 v.
+    Asphodel 3 v.
+    Mount Royal 2 v.
+    The Golden Calf 2 v.
+    Flower and Weed 1 v.
+    Phantom Fortune 3 v.
+    Under the Red Flag 1 v.
+    Ishmael 3 v.
+    Wyllard's Weird 3 v.
+
+  Lady Brassey:
+    A Voyage in the "Sunbeam" 2 v.
+    Sunshine and Storm in the East 2 v.
+    In the Trades, the Tropics, and the Roaring Forties 2 v.
+
+  The Bread-Winners 1 v.
+
+  Shirley Brooks:
+    The Silver Cord 3 v.
+    Sooner or Later 3 v.
+
+  Miss Rhoda Broughton:
+    Cometh up as a Flower 1 v.
+    Not wisely, but too well 2 v.
+    Red as a Rose is She 2 v.
+    Tales for Christmas Eve 1 v.
+    Nancy 2 v. Joan 2 v.
+    Second Thoughts 2 v.
+    Belinda 2 v.
+
+  John Brown:
+    Rab and his Friends, and other Tales 1 v.
+
+  Eliz. Barrett Browning:
+    A Selection from her Poetry (w. portrait) 1 v.
+    Aurora Leigh 1 v.
+
+  Robert Browning:
+    Poetical Works (with portrait) 4 v.
+
+  Bulwer (Lord Lytton):
+    Pelham (with portrait) 1 v.
+    Eugene Aram 1 v.
+    Paul Clifford 1 v.
+    Zanoni 1 v.
+    The Last Days of Pompeii 1 v.
+    The Disowned 1 v.
+    Ernest Maltravers 1 v.
+    Alice 1 v.
+    Eva, and the Pilgrims of the Rhine 1 v.
+    Devereux 1 v.
+    Godolphin, and Falkland 1 v.
+    Rienzi 1 v.
+    Night and Morning 1 v.
+    The Last of the Barons 2 v.
+    Athens 2 v.
+    The Poems and Ballads of Schiller 1 v.
+    Lucretia 2 v.
+    Harold 2 v.
+    King Arthur 2 v.
+    The new Timon; St Stephen's 1 v.
+    The Caxtons 2 v.
+    My Novel 4 v.
+    What will he do with it? 4 v.
+    The Dramatic Works 2 v.
+    A Strange Story 2 v.
+    Caxtoniana 2 v.
+    The Lost Tales of Miletus 1 v.
+    Miscellaneous Prose Works 4 v.
+    The Odes and Epodes of Horace 2 v.
+    Kenelm Chillingly 4 v.
+    The Coming Race 1 v.
+    The Parisians 4 v.
+    Pausanias 1 v.
+
+  Henry Lytton Bulwer (Lord Dalling):
+    Historical Characters 2 v.
+    The Life of Henry John Temple,
+    Viscount Palmerston 3 v.
+
+  John Bunyan:
+    The Pilgrim's Progress 1 v.
+
+  Buried Alone 1 v.
+
+  F. H. Burnett:
+    Through one Administration 2 v.
+
+  Miss Burney: Evelina 1 v.
+
+  Robert Burns:
+    Poetical Works (w. portrait) 1 v.
+
+  Richard F. Burton:
+    Mecca and Medina 3 v.
+
+  Mrs. B. H. Buxton:
+    "Jennie of 'the Prince's'" 2 v.
+    Won! 2 v.
+    Great Grenfell Gardens 2 v.
+    Nell--on and off the Stage 2 v.
+    From the Wings 2 v.
+
+  Lord Byron:
+    Poetical Works (w. portrait) 5 v.
+
+  Cameron:
+    Across Africa 2 v.
+
+  Thomas Carlyle:
+    The French Revolution 3 v.
+    Frederick the Great 13 v.
+    Oliver Cromwell's Letters and Speeches 4 v.
+    The Life of Friedrich Schiller 1 v.
+
+  Alaric Carr:
+    Treherne's Temptation 2 v.
+
+  Maria Louisa Charlesworth:
+    Oliver of the Mill 1 v.
+
+  "Chronicles of the Schönberg-Cotta Family," Author of--
+    Chronicles of the Schönberg-Cotta Family 2 v.
+    The Draytons and the Davenants 2 v.
+    On Both Sides of the Sea 2 v.
+    Winifred Bertram 1 v.
+    Diary of Mrs. Kitty Trevylyan 1 v.
+    The Victory of the Vanquished 1 v.
+    The Cottage by the Cathedral 1 v.
+    Against the Stream 2 v.
+    The Bertram Family 2 v.
+    Conquering and to Conquer 1 v.
+    Lapsed, but not Lost 1 v.
+
+  Frances Power Cobbe:
+    Re-Echoes 1 v.
+
+  Coleridge:
+    The Poems 1 v.
+
+  C. R. Coleridge:
+    An English Squire 2 v.
+
+  Chas. A. Collins:
+    A Cruise upon Wheels 2 v.
+
+  Mortimer Collins:
+    Sweet and Twenty 2 v.
+    A Fight with Fortune 2 v.
+
+  Wilkie Collins:
+    After Dark 1 v.
+    Hide and Seek 2 v.
+    A Plot in Private Life 1 v.
+    The Woman in White 2 v.
+    Basil 1 v.
+    No Name 3 v.
+    The Dead Secret 2 v.
+    Antonina 2 v.
+    Armadale 3 v.
+    The Moonstone 2 v.
+    Man and Wife 3 v.
+    Poor Miss Finch 2 v.
+    Miss or Mrs.? 1 v.
+    The New Magdalen 2 v.
+    The Frozen Deep 1 v.
+    The Law and the Lady 2 v.
+    The Two Destinies 1 v.
+    My Lady's Money & Percy and the Prophet 1 v.
+    The Haunted Hotel 1 v.
+    Fallen Leaves 2 v.
+    Jezebel's Daughter 2 v.
+    The Black Robe 2 v.
+    Heart and Science 2 v.
+    "I say no" 2 v.
+
+  "Cometh up as a Flower," Author of--
+    _vide_ Broughton.
+
+  Hugh Conway:
+    Called Back 1 v.
+    Bound Together 2 v.
+    Dark Days 1 v.
+    A Family Affair 2 v.
+
+  Fenimore Cooper:
+    The Spy (w. portrait) 1 v.
+    The two Admirals 1 v.
+    The Jack O'Lantern 1 v.
+
+  George L. Craik:
+    Manual of English Literature & Language 2 v.
+
+  Mrs. Craik (Miss Mulock):
+    John Halifax, Gentleman 2 v.
+    The Head of the Family 2 v.
+    A Life for a Life 2 v.
+    A Woman's Thoughts about Women 1 v.
+    Agatha's Husband 1 v.
+    Romantic Tales 1 v.
+    Domestic Stories 1 v.
+    Mistress and Maid 1 v.
+    The Ogilvies 1 v.
+    Lord Erlistoun 1 v.
+    Christian's Mistake 1 v.
+    Bread upon the Waters 1 v.
+    A Noble Life 1 v.
+    Olive 2 v.
+    Two Marriages 1 v.
+    Studies from Life 1 v.
+    Poems 1 v.
+    The Woman's Kingdom 2 v.
+    The Unkind Word 2 v.
+    A Brave Lady 2 v.
+    Hannah 2 v.
+    Fair France 1 v.
+    My Mother and I 1 v.
+    The Little Lame Prince 1 v.
+    Sermons out of Church 1 v.
+    The Laurel Bush 1 v.
+    A Legacy 2 v.
+    Young Mrs. Jardine 2 v.
+    His Little Mother 1 v.
+    Plain Speaking 1 v.
+    Miss Tommy 1 v.
+
+  Miss Georgiana Craik:
+    Lost and Won 1 v.
+    Faith Unwin's Ordeal 1 v.
+    Leslie Tyrrell 1 v.
+    Winifred's Wooing, and other Tales 1 v.
+    Mildred 1 v.
+    Esther Hill's Secret 2 v.
+    Hero Trevelyan 1 v.
+    Without Kith or Kin 2 v.
+    Only a Butterfly 1 v.
+    Sylvia's Choice;
+    Theresa 2 v.
+    Anne Warwick 1 v.
+    Two Tales of Married Life 2 v. (Vol. I. Hard to Bear, Vol. II. _vide_
+      M. C. Stirling.)
+    Dorcas 2 v.
+    Two Women 2 v.
+
+  Mrs. A. Craven:
+    Eliane. Translated by Lady Fullerton 2 v.
+
+  F. Marion Crawford:
+    Mr. Isaacs 1 v.
+    Doctor Claudius 1 v.
+    To Leeward 1 v.
+    A Roman Singer 1 v.
+    An American Politician 1 v.
+    Zoroaster 1 v.
+
+  J. W. Cross:
+    _vide_ George Eliot's Life.
+
+  Miss Cummins:
+    The Lamplighter 1 v.
+    Mabel Vaughan 1 v.
+    El Fureidîs 1 v.
+    Haunted Hearts 1 v.
+
+  "Daily News,"
+    War Correspondence 1877 by A. Forbes, etc. 3 v.
+
+  De-Foe:
+    Robinson Crusoe 1 v.
+
+  Democracy.
+    An American Novel 1 v.
+
+  Charles Dickens:
+    The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club (w. portrait) 2 v.
+    American Notes 1 v.
+    Oliver Twist 1 v.
+    The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby 2 v.
+    Sketches 1 v.
+    The Life and Adventures of Martin Chuzzlewit 2 v.
+    A Christmas Carol; the Chimes; the Cricket on the Hearth 1 v.
+    Master Humphrey's Clock (Old Curiosity Shop, Barnaby Rudge, and other
+      Tales) 3 v.
+    Pictures from Italy 1 v.
+    The Battle of Life;
+    the Haunted Man 1 v.
+    Dombey and Son 3 v.
+    David Copperfield 3 v.
+    Bleak House 4 v.
+    A Child's History of England (2 v. 8° M. 2,70.)
+    Hard Times 1 v.
+    Little Dorrit 4 v.
+    A Tale of two Cities 2 v.
+    Hunted Down;
+    The Uncommercial Traveller 1 v.
+    Great Expectations 2 v.
+    Christmas Stories 1 v.
+    Our Mutual Friend 4 v.
+    Somebody's Luggage;
+    Mrs. Lirriper's Lodgings; Mrs. Lirriper's Legacy 1 v.
+    Doctor Marigold's Prescriptions; Mugby Junction 1 v.
+    No Thoroughfare 1 v.
+    The Mystery of Edwin Drood 2 v.
+    The Mudfog Papers 1 v.
+    _Vide_ Household Words, Novels and Tales, and John Forster.
+
+  Charles Dickens:
+    The Letters of Charles Dickens edited by his Sister-in-law and his
+      eldest Daughter 4 v.
+
+  B. Disraeli (Lord Beaconsfield):
+    Coningsby 1 v.
+    Sybil 1 v.
+    Contarini Fleming (w. portrait) 1 v.
+    Alroy 1 v. Tancred 2 v.
+    Venetia 2 v.
+    Vivian Grey 2 v.
+    Henrietta Temple 1 v.
+    Lothair 2 v.
+    Endymion 2 v.
+
+  W. Hepworth Dixon:
+    Personal History of Lord Bacon 1 v.
+    The Holy Land 2 v.
+    New America 2 v.
+    Spiritual Wives 2 v.
+    Her Majesty's Tower 4 v.
+    Free Russia 2 v.
+    History of two Queens 6 v.
+    White Conquest 2 v.
+    Diana, Lady Lyle 2 v.
+
+  The Earl and the Doctor:
+    South Sea Bubbles 1 v.
+
+  Mrs. Edwardes:
+    Archie Lovell 2 v.
+    Steven Lawrence, Yeoman 2 v.
+    Ought we to Visit her? 2 v.
+    A Vagabond Heroine 1 v.
+    Leah: A Woman of Fashion 2 v.
+    A Blue-Stocking 1 v.
+    Jet: Her Face or Her Fortune? 1 v.
+    Vivian the Beauty 1 v.
+    A Ballroom Repentance 2 v.
+    A Girton Girl 2 v.
+
+  Miss Amelia B. Edwards:
+    Barbara's History 2 v.
+    Miss Carew 2 v.
+    Hand and Glove 1 v.
+    Half a Million of Money 2 v.
+    Debenham's Vow 2 v.
+    In the Days of my Youth 2 v.
+    Untrodden Peaks and unfrequented Valleys 1 v.
+    Monsieur Maurice 1 v.
+    Black Forest 1 v.
+    A Poetry-Book of Elder Poets 1 v.
+    A Thousand Miles up the Nile 2 v.
+    A Poetry-Book of Modern Poets 1 v.
+    Lord Brackenbury 2 v.
+
+  Miss M. Betham-Edwards:
+    The Sylvestres 1 v.
+    Felicia 2 v.
+    Brother Gabriel 2 v.
+    Forestalled 1 v.
+    Exchange no Robbery 1 v.
+    Disarmed 1 v.
+    Doctor Jacob 1 v.
+    Pearla 1 v.
+
+  Barbara Elbon:
+    Bethesda 2 v.
+
+  George Eliot:
+    Scenes of Clerical Life 2 v.
+    Adam Bede 2 v.
+    The Mill on the Floss 2 v.
+    Silas Marner 1 v.
+    Romola 2 v.
+    Felix Holt 2 v.
+    Daniel Deronda 4 v.
+    The Lifted Veil and Brother Jacob 1 v.
+    Impressions of Theophrastus Such 1 v.
+    Essays 1 v.
+
+  George Eliot's Life as related in her Letters and Journals. Arranged
+      and ed. by her Husband J. W. Cross 4 v.
+
+  Mrs. Elliot:
+    Diary of an Idle Woman in Italy 2 v.
+    Old Court Life in France 2 v.
+    The Italians 2 v.
+    The Diary of an Idle Woman in Sicily 1 v.
+    Pictures of Old Rome 1 v.
+    Diary of an Idle Woman in Spain 2 v.
+    The Red Cardinal 1 v.
+
+  Essays and Reviews 1 v.
+
+  Estelle Russell 2 v.
+
+  Expiated 2 v.
+
+  G. M. Fenn:
+    The Parson o' Dumford 2 v.
+    The Clerk of Portwick 2 v.
+
+  Fielding:
+    The History of Tom Jones 2 v.
+
+  Five Centuries of the English Language and Literature 1 v.
+
+  George Fleming:
+    Kismet 1 v.
+    Andromeda 2 v.
+
+  A. Forbes:
+    My Experiences of the War between France and Germany 2 v.
+    Soldiering and Scribbling 1 v.
+    See also "Daily News," War Correspondence.
+
+  Mrs. Forrester:
+    Viva 2 v.
+    Rhona 2 v.
+    Roy and Viola 2 v.
+    My Lord and My Lady 2 v.
+    I have Lived and Loved 2 v.
+    June 2 v.
+    Omnia Vanitas 1 v.
+    Although he was a Lord, etc. 1 v.
+    Corisande, etc. 1 v.
+
+  John Forster:
+    Life of Charles Dickens 6 v.
+    Life and Times of Oliver Goldsmith 2 v.
+
+  Jessie Fothergill:
+    The First Violin 2 v.
+    Probation 2 v.
+    Made or Marred and "One of Three" 1 v.
+    Kith and Kin 2 v.
+    Peril 2 v.
+
+  "Found Dead," Author of--
+    _vide_ James Payn.
+
+  Caroline Fox:
+    Memories of Old Friends from her Journals, edited by Horace N. Pym 2 v.
+
+  Frank Fairlegh 2 v.
+
+  E. A. Freeman:
+    The Growth of the English Constitution 1 v.
+    Select Historical Essays 1 v.
+
+  Lady G. Fullerton:
+    Ellen Middleton 1 v.
+    Grantley Manor 2 v.
+    Lady-Bird 2 v.
+    Too Strange not to be True 2 v.
+    Constance Sherwood 2 v.
+    A stormy Life 2 v.
+    Mrs. Gerald's Niece 2 v.
+    The Notary's Daughter 1 v.
+    The Lilies of the Valley 1 v.
+    The Countess de Bonneval 1 v.
+    Rose Leblanc 1 v.
+    Seven Stories 1 v.
+    The Life of Luisa de Carvajal 1 v.
+    A Will and a Way 2 v.
+    Eliane 2 v. (_vide_ Craven).
+    Laurentia 1 v.
+
+  Mrs. Gaskell:
+    Mary Barton 1 v.
+    Ruth 2 v.
+    North and South 1 v.
+    Lizzie Leigh 1 v.
+    The Life of Charlotte Brontë 2 v.
+    Lois the Witch 1 v.
+    Sylvia's Lovers 2 v.
+    A Dark Night's Work 1 v.
+    Wives and Daughters 3 v.
+    Cranford 1 v.
+    Cousin Phillis, and other Tales 1 v.
+
+  Geraldine Hawthorne _vide_ "Miss Molly."
+
+  Agnes Giberne:
+    The Curate's Home 1 v.
+
+  Right Hon. W. E. Gladstone:
+    Rome and the newest Fashions in Religion 1 v.
+    Bulgarian Horrors: Russia in Turkistan 1 v.
+    The Hellenic Factor in the Eastern Problem 1 v.
+
+  Goldsmith:
+    Select Works: The Vicar of Wakefield; Poems; Dramas (w. portrait) 1 v.
+
+  Major-Gen. C. G. Gordon's Journals, at Kartoum. Introduction and Notes
+    by A. E. Hake (with eighteen Illustrations) 2 v.
+
+  Mrs. Gore:
+    Castles in the Air 1 v.
+    The Dean's Daughter 2 v.
+    Progress and Prejudice 2 v.
+    Mammon 2 v.
+    A Life's Lessons 2 v.
+    The two Aristocracies 2 v.
+    Heckington 2 v.
+
+  Miss Grant:
+    Victor Lescar 2 v.
+    The Sun-Maid 2 v.
+    My Heart's in the Highlands 2 v.
+    Artiste 2 v.
+    Prince Hugo 2 v.
+    Cara Roma 2 v.
+
+  W. A. Baillie Grohman:
+    Tyrol and the Tyrolese 1 v.
+
+  "Guy Livingstone," Author of--
+    Guy Livingstone 1 v.
+    Sword and Gown 1 v.
+    Barren Honour 1 v.
+    Border and Bastille 1 v.
+    Maurice Dering 1 v.
+    Sans Merci 2 v.
+    Breaking a Butterfly 2 v.
+    Anteros 2 v.
+    Hagarene 2 v.
+
+  J. Habberton:
+    Helen's Babies & Other People's Children 1 v.
+    The Bowsham Puzzle 1 v.
+    One Tramp; Mrs. Mayburn's Twins 1 v.
+
+  Hake:
+    _v_. Gordon's Journals.
+
+  Mrs. S. C. Hall:
+    Can Wrong be Right? 1 v.
+    Marian 2 v.
+
+  Thomas Hardy:
+    The Hand of Ethelberta 2 v.
+    Far from the Madding Crowd 2 v.
+    The Return of the Native 2 v.
+    The Trumpet-Major 2 v.
+    A Laodicean 2 v.
+    Two on a Tower 2 v.
+    A Pair of Blue Eyes 2 v.
+
+  Agnes Harrison:
+    Martin's Vineyard 1 v.
+
+  Bret Harte:
+    Prose and Poetry (Tales of the Argonauts; Spanish and American
+      Legends; Condensed Novels; Civic and Character Sketches; Poems) 2 v.
+    Idyls of the Foothills 1 v.
+    Gabriel Conroy 2 v.
+    Two Men of Sandy Bar 1 v.
+    Thankful Blossom 1 v.
+    The Story of a Mine 1 v.
+    Drift from Two Shores 1 v.
+    An Heiress of Red Dog 1 v.
+    The Twins of Table Mountain, etc. 1 v.
+    Jeff Briggs's Love Story, etc. 1 v.
+    Flip, etc. 1 v.
+    On the Frontier 1 v.
+    By Shore and Sedge 1 v.
+    Maruja 1 v.
+
+  Sir H. Havelock, by the Rev. W. Brock, 1 v.
+
+  N. Hawthorne:
+    The Scarlet Letter 1 v.
+    Transformation 2 v.
+    Passages from the English Note-Books 2 v.
+
+  "Heir of Redclyffe," Author of--
+    _vide_ Yonge.
+
+  Sir Arthur Helps:
+    Friends in Council 2 v.
+    Ivan de Biron 2 v.
+
+  Mrs. Hemans:
+    The Select Poetical Works 1 v.
+
+  Mrs. Cashel Hoey:
+    A Golden Sorrow 2 v.
+    Out of Court 2 v.
+
+  Oliver Wendell Holmes:
+    The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table 1 v.
+    The Professor at the Breakfast-Table 1 v.
+    The Poet at the Breakfast-Table 1 v.
+
+  Household Words conducted by Ch. Dickens. 1851-56. 36 v.
+    Novels and Tales reprinted from Household Words by Ch. Dickens.
+      1856-59. 11 v.
+
+  Miss Howard:
+    One Summer 1 v.
+    Aunt Serena 1 v.
+    Guenn 2 v.
+
+  W. D. Howells:
+    A Foregone Conclusion 1 v.
+    The Lady of the Aroostook 1 v.
+    A Modern Instance 2 v.
+    The Undiscovered Country 1 v.
+    Venetian Life (w. portr.) 1 v.
+    Italian Journeys 1 v.
+    A Chance Acquaintance 1 v.
+    Their Wedding Journey 1 v.
+    A Fearful Responsibility, etc. 1 v.
+    A Woman's Reason 2 v.
+    Dr. Breen's Practice 1 v.
+
+  Thos. Hughes:
+    Tom Brown's School Days 1 v.
+
+  Jean Ingelow:
+    Off the Skelligs 3 v.
+    Poems 2 v.
+    Fated to be Free 2 v.
+    Sarah de Berenger 2 v.
+    Don John 2 v.
+
+  J. H. Ingram:
+    _vide_ E. A. Poe.
+
+  Washington Irving:
+    Sketch Book (w. portrait) 1 v.
+    Life of Mahomet 1 v.
+    Successors of Mahomet 1 v.
+    Oliver Goldsmith 1 v.
+    Chronicles of Wolfert's Roost 1 v.
+    Life of George Washington 5 v.
+
+  Helen Jackson:
+    Ramona 2 v.
+
+  G. P. R. James:
+    Morley Ernstein (w. portrait) 1 v.
+    Forest Days 1 v.
+    The False Heir 1 v.
+    Arabella Stuart 1 v.
+    Rose d'Albret 1 v.
+    Arrah Neil 1 v.
+    Agincourt 1 v.
+    The Smuggler 1 v.
+    The Step-Mother 2 v.
+    Beauchamp 1 v.
+    Heidelberg 1 v.
+    The Gipsy 1 v.
+    The Castle of Ehrenstein 1 v.
+    Darnley 1 v.
+    Russell 2 v.
+    The Convict 2 v.
+    Sir Theodore Broughton 2 v.
+
+  Henry James:
+    The American 2 v.
+    The Europeans 1 v.
+    Daisy Miller 1 v.
+    Roderick Hudson 2 v.
+    The Madonna of the Future, etc. 1 v.
+    Eugene Pickering, etc. 1 v.
+    Confidence 1 v.
+    Washington Square 2 v.
+    The Portrait of a Lady 3 v.
+    Foreign Parts 1 v.
+    French Poets and Novelists 1 v.
+    The Siege of London, etc. 1 v.
+    Portraits of Places 1 v.
+    A Little Tour in France 1 v.
+
+  J. Cordy Jeaffreson:
+    A Book about Doctors 2 v.
+    A Woman in Spite of herself 2 v.
+    The Real Lord Byron 3 v.
+
+  Mrs. Jenkin:
+    "Who Breaks--Pays" 1 v.
+    Skirmishing 1 v.
+    Once and Again 2 v.
+    Two French Marriages 2 v.
+    Within an Ace 1 v.
+    Jupiter's Daughters 1 v.
+
+  Edward Jenkins:
+    Ginx's Baby; Lord Bantam 2 v.
+
+  "Jennie of 'the Prince's,'" Author of--
+    _vide_ Mrs. Buxton.
+
+  Douglas Jerrold:
+    The History of St. Giles and St. James 2 v.
+    Men of Character 2 v.
+
+  "John Halifax," Author of--
+    _vide_ Mrs. Craik.
+
+  "Johnny Ludlow," Author of--
+    _vide_ Mrs. Wood.
+
+  Johnson:
+    The Lives of the English Poets 2 v.
+
+  Emily Jolly:
+    Colonel Dacre 2 v.
+
+  "Joshua Davidson," Author of--
+    _vide_ E. Lynn Linton.
+
+  Miss Kavanagh:
+    Nathalie 2 v.
+    Daisy Burns 2 v.
+    Grace Lee 2 v.
+    Rachel Gray 1 v.
+    Adèle 3 v.
+    A Summer and Winter in the Two Sicilies 2 v.
+    Seven Years 2 v.
+    French Women of Letters 1 v.
+    English Women of Letters 1 v.
+    Queen Mab 2 v.
+    Beatrice 2 v.
+    Sybil's Second Love 2 v.
+    Dora 2 v.
+    Silvia 2 v.
+    Bessie 2 v.
+    John Dorrien 3 v.
+    Two Lilies 2 v.
+    Forget-me-nots 2 v.
+
+  Annie Keary:
+    Oldbury 2 v.
+    Castle Daly 2 v.
+
+  Elsa D'Esterre-Keeling:
+    Three Sisters 1 v.
+
+  Kempis:
+    _vide_ Thomas a Kempis.
+
+  R. B. Kimball:
+    Saint Leger 1 v.
+    Romance of Student Life abroad 1 v.
+    Undercurrents 1 v.
+    Was he Successful? 1 v.
+    To-Day in New-York 1 v.
+
+  A. W. Kinglake:
+    Eothen 1 v.
+    Invasion of the Crimea v. 1-10.
+
+  Charles Kingsley:
+    Yeast 1 v.
+    Westward ho! 2 v.
+    Two Years ago 2 v.
+    Hypatia 2 v.
+    Alton Locke 1 v.
+    Hereward the Wake 2 v.
+    At Last 2 v.
+
+  Charles Kingsley:
+    His Letters and Memories of his Life edited by his Wife 2 v.
+
+  Henry Kingsley:
+    Ravenshoe 2 v.
+    Austin Elliot 1 v.
+    The Recollections of Geoffry Hamlyn 2 v.
+    The Hillyars and the Burtons 2 v.
+    Leighton Court 1 v.
+    Valentin 1 v.
+    Oakshott Castle 1 v.
+    Reginald Hetherege 2 v.
+    The Grange Garden 2 v.
+
+  May Laffan:
+    Flitters, Tatters, and the Counsellor, etc. 1 v.
+
+  Charles Lamb:
+    The Essays of Elia and Eliana 1 v.
+
+  Mary Langdon:
+    Ida May 1 v.
+
+  "Last of the Cavaliers," Author of--
+    Last of the Cavaliers 2 v.
+    The Gain of a Loss 2 v.
+
+  Leaves from the Journal of our Life in the Highlands from 1848 to 1861,
+      1 v.
+    More Leaves from the Journal of a Life in the Highlands from 1862 to
+      1882, 1 v.
+
+  Holme Lee:
+    _vide_ Miss Parr.
+
+  S. Le Fanu:
+    Uncle Silas 2 v.
+    Guy Deverell 2 v.
+
+  Mark Lemon:
+    Wait for the End 2 v.
+    Loved at Last 2 v.
+    Falkner Lyle 2 v.
+    Leyton Hall 2 v.
+    Golden Fetters 2 v.
+
+  Charles Lever:
+    The O'Donoghue 1 v.
+    The Knight of Gwynne 3 v.
+    Arthur O'Leary 2 v.
+    The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer 2 v.
+    Charles O'Malley 3 v.
+    Tom Burke of "Ours" 3 v.
+    Jack Hinton 2 v.
+    The Daltons 4 v.
+    The Dodd Family abroad 3 v.
+    The Martins of Cro' Martin 3 v.
+    The Fortunes of Glencore 2 v.
+    Roland Cashel 3 v.
+    Davenport Dunn 3 v.
+    Con Cregan 2 v.
+    One of Them 2 v.
+    Maurice Tiernay 2 v.
+    Sir Jasper Carew 2 v.
+    Barrington 2 v.
+    A Day's Ride: a Life's Romance 2 v.
+    Luttrell of Arran 2 v.
+    Tony Butler 2 v.
+    Sir Brook Fossbrooke 2 v.
+    The Bramleighs of Bishop's Folly 2 v.
+    A Rent in a Cloud 1 v.
+    That Boy of Norcott's 1 v.
+    St. Patrick's Eve; Paul Gosslett's Confessions 1 v.
+    Lord Kilgobbin 2 v.
+
+  G. H. Lewes:
+    Ranthorpe 1 v.
+    Physiology of Common Life 2 v.
+    On Actors and the Art of Acting 1 v.
+
+  E. Lynn Linton:
+    Joshua Davidson 1 v.
+    Patricia Kemball 2 v.
+    The Atonement of Leam Dundas 2 v.
+    The World well Lost 2 v.
+    Under which Lord? 2 v.
+    With a Silken Thread etc. 1 v.
+    Todhunters' at Loanin' Head etc. 1 v.
+    "My Love!" 2 v.
+    The Girl of the Period, etc. 1 v.
+    Ione 2 v.
+
+  Laurence W. M. Lockhart:
+    Mine is Thine 2 v.
+
+  Longfellow:
+    Poetical Works (w. portrait) 3 v.
+    The Divine Comedy of Dante Alighieri 3 v.
+    The New-England Tragedies 1 v.
+    The Divine Tragedy 1 v.
+    Three Books of Song 1 v.
+    The Masque of Pandora 1 v.
+
+  M. Lonsdale:
+    Sister Dora 1 v.
+
+  A Lost Battle 2 v.
+
+  Lutfullah:
+    Autobiography of Lutfullah, by Eastwick 1 v.
+
+  Lord Lytton:
+    _vide_ Bulwer.
+
+  Robert Lord Lytton (Owen Meredith):
+    Poems 2 v.
+    Fables in Song 2 v.
+
+  Lord Macaulay:
+    History of England (w. portrait) 10 v.
+    Critical and Historical Essays 5 v.
+    Lays of Ancient Rome 1 v.
+    Speeches 2 v.
+    Biographical Essays 1 v.
+    William Pitt, Atterbury 1 v.
+    (See also Trevelyan).
+
+  Justin McCarthy:
+    Waterdale Neighbours 2 v.
+    Lady Disdain 2 v.
+    Miss Misanthrope 2 v.
+    A History of our own Times 5 v.
+    Donna Quixote 2 v.
+    A short History of our own Times 2 v.
+    A History of the Four Georges vol. 1.
+
+  George MacDonald:
+    Alec Forbes of Howglen 2 v.
+    Annals of a Quiet Neighbourhood 2 v.
+    David Elginbrod 2 v.
+    The Vicar's Daughter 2 v.
+    Malcolm 2 v.
+    St. George and St. Michael 2 v.
+    The Marquis of Lossie 2 v.
+    Sir Gibbie 2 v.
+    Mary Marston 2 v.
+    The Gifts of the Child Christ, etc. 1 v.
+    The Princess and Curdie 1 v.
+
+  Mrs. Mackarness:
+    Sunbeam Stories 1 v.
+    A Peerless Wife 2 v.
+    A Mingled Yarn 2 v.
+
+  Charles McKnight:
+    Old Fort Duquesne 2 v.
+
+  Norman Macleod:
+    The old Lieutenant and his Son 1 v.
+
+  Mrs. Macquoid:
+    Patty 2 v.
+    Miriam's Marriage 2 v.
+    Pictures across the Channel 2 v.
+    Too Soon 1 v.
+    My Story 2 v.
+    Diane 2 v.
+    Beside the River 2 v.
+    A Faithful Lover 2 v.
+
+  "Mademoiselle Mori," Author of--
+    Mademoiselle Mori 2 v.
+    Denise 1 v.
+    Madame Fontenoy 1 v.
+    On the Edge of the Storm 1 v.
+    The Atelier du Lys 2 v.
+    In the Olden Time 2 v.
+
+  Lord Mahon:
+    _vide_ Stanhope.
+
+  E. S. Maine:
+    Scarscliff Rocks 2 v.
+
+  Lucas Malet:
+    Colonel Enderby's Wife 2 v.
+
+  Lord Malmesbury:
+    Memoirs of an Ex-Minister 3 v.
+
+  R. Blachford Mansfield:
+    The Log of the Water Lily 1 v.
+
+  Mark Twain:
+    The Adventures of Tom Sawyer 1 v.
+    The Innocents Abroad; or, the New Pilgrims' Progress 2 v.
+    A Tramp Abroad 2 v.
+    "Roughing it" 1 v.
+    The Innocents at Home 1 v.
+    The Prince and the Pauper 2 v.
+    The Stolen White Elephant, etc. 1 v.
+    Life on the Mississippi 2 v.
+    Sketches 1 v.
+    Huckleberry Finn 2 v.
+
+  Marmorne 1 v.
+
+  Capt. Marryat:
+    Jacob Faithful (w. portrait) 1 v.
+    Percival Keene 1 v.
+    Peter Simple 1 v.
+    Japhet 1 v.
+    Monsieur Violet 1 v.
+    The Settlers 1 v.
+    The Mission 1 v.
+    The Privateer's-Man 1 v.
+    The Children of the New-Forest 1 v.
+    Valerie 1 v.
+    Mr. Midshipman Easy 1 v.
+    The King's Own 1 v.
+
+  Florence Marryat:
+    Love's Conflict 2 v.
+    For Ever and Ever 2 v.
+    The Confessions of Gerald Estcourt 2 v.
+    Nelly Brooke 2 v.
+    Véronique 2 v.
+    Petronel 2 v.
+    Her Lord and Master 2 v.
+    The Prey of the Gods 1 v.
+    Life of Captain Marryat 1 v.
+    Mad Dumaresq 2 v.
+    No Intentions 2 v.
+    Fighting the Air 2 v.
+    A Star and a Heart 1 v.
+    The Poison of Asps 1 v.
+    A Lucky Disappointment 1 v.
+    My own Child 2 v.
+    Her Father's Name 2 v.
+    A Harvest of Wild Oats 2 v.
+    A Little Stepson 1 v.
+    Written in Fire 2 v.
+    Her World against a Lie 2 v.
+    A Broken Blossom 2 v.
+    The Root of all Evil 2 v.
+    The Fair-haired Alda 2 v.
+    With Cupid's Eyes 2 v.
+    My Sister the Actress 2 v.
+    Phyllida 2 v.
+    How They Loved Him 2 v.
+    Facing the Footlights (w. portrait) 2 v.
+    A Moment of Madness 1 v.
+    The Ghost of Charlotte Cray, etc. 1 v.
+    Peeress and Player 2 v.
+    Under the Lilies and Roses 2 v.
+    The Heart of Jane Warner 2 v.
+    The Heir Presumptive 2 v.
+
+  Mrs. Marsh:
+    Ravenscliffe 2 v.
+    Emilia Wyndham 2 v.
+    Castle Avon 2 v. Aubrey 2 v.
+    The Heiress of Haughton 2 v.
+    Evelyn Marston 2 v.
+    The Rose of Ashurst 2 v.
+
+  Emma Marshall:
+    Mrs. Mainwaring's Journal 1 v.
+    Benvenuta 1 v.
+    Lady Alice 1 v.
+    Dayspring 1 v.
+    Life's Aftermath 1 v.
+    In the East Country 1 v.
+
+  H. Mathers:
+    "Cherry Ripe!" 2 v.
+    "Land o' the Leal" 1 v.
+    My Lady Green Sleeves 2 v.
+    As he comes up the Stair, etc. 1 v.
+    Sam's Sweetheart 2 v.
+    Eyre's Acquittal 2 v.
+    Found Out 1 v.
+    Murder or Manslaughter? 1 v.
+
+  "Mehalah," Author of--
+    Mehalah 1 v.
+    John Herring 2 v.
+
+  Whyte Melville:
+    Kate Coventry 1 v.
+    Holmby House 2 v.
+    Digby Grand 1 v.
+    Good for Nothing 2 v.
+    The Queen's Maries 2 v.
+    The Gladiators 2 v.
+    The Brookes of Bridlemere 2 v.
+    Cerise 2 v.
+    The Interpreter 2 v.
+    The White Rose 2 v.
+    M. or N. 1 v.
+    Contraband; or A Losing Hazard 1 v.
+    Sarchedon 2 v.
+    Uncle John 2 v.
+    Katerfelto 1 v.
+    Sister Louise 1 v.
+    Rosine 1 v.
+    Roy's Wife 2 v.
+    Black but Comely 2 v.
+    Riding Recollections 1 v.
+
+  George Meredith:
+    The Ordeal of Feverel 2 v.
+    Beauchamp's Career 2 v.
+    The Tragic Comedians 1 v.
+
+  Owen Meredith:
+    _vide_ Robert Lord Lytton.
+
+  Milton:
+    Poetical Works 1 v.
+
+  "Miss Molly," Author of--
+    Geraldine Hawthorne 1 v.
+
+  "Molly Bawn," Author of--
+    Molly Bawn 2 v.
+    Mrs. Geoffrey 2 v.
+    Faith and Unfaith 2 v.
+    Portia 2 v.
+    Loÿs, Lord Berresford, etc. 1 v.
+    Her First Appearance, etc. 1 v.
+    Phyllis 2 v.
+    Rossmoyne 2 v.
+    Doris 2 v.
+    A Maiden all Forlorn, etc. 1 v.
+    A Passive Crime 1 v.
+
+  Miss Florence Montgomery:
+    Misunderstood 1 v.
+    Thrown Together 2 v.
+    Thwarted 1 v.
+    Wild Mike 1 v.
+    Seaforth 2 v.
+    The Blue Veil 1 v.
+
+  Moore:
+    Poetical Works (w. portrait) 5 v.
+
+  Lady Morgan's Memoirs 3 v.
+
+  Henry Morley:
+    Of English Literature in the Reign of Victoria. With Facsimiles of
+      the Signatures of Authors in the Tauchnitz Edition [v. 2000].
+
+  E. C. Grenville: Murray:
+    The Member for Paris 2 v.
+    Young Brown 2 v.
+    The Boudoir Cabal 3 v.
+    French Pictures in English Chalk (1st Series) 2 v.
+    The Russians of To-day 1 v.
+    French Pictures in English Chalk (2nd Series) 2 v.
+    Strange Tales 1 v.
+    That Artful Vicar 2 v.
+    Six Months in the Ranks 1 v.
+    People I have met 1 v.
+
+  "My little Lady," Author of--
+    _vide_ E. Frances Poynter.
+
+  New Testament [v. 1000].
+
+  Mrs. Newby:
+    Common Sense 2 v.
+
+  Dr. J. H. Newman:
+    Callista 1 v.
+
+  "Nina Balatka," Author of--
+    _vide_ Anthony Trollope.
+
+  "No Church," Author of--
+    No Church 2 v.
+    Owen:--a Waif 2 v.
+
+  Lady Augusta Noel:
+    From Generation to Generation 1 v.
+
+  Hon. Mrs. Norton:
+    Stuart of Dunleath 2 v.
+    Lost and Saved 2 v.
+    Old Sir Douglas 2 v.
+
+  Novels and Tales
+    _vide_ Household Words.
+
+  Not Easily Jealous 2 v.
+
+  L. Oliphant:
+    Altiora Peto 2 v.
+
+  Mrs. Oliphant:
+    Passages in the Life of Mrs. Margaret Maitland of Sunnyside 1 v.
+    The Last of the Mortimers 2 v.
+    Agnes 2 v.
+    Madonna Mary 2 v.
+    The Minister's Wife 2 v.
+    The Rector, and the Doctor's Family 1 v.
+    Salem Chapel 2 v.
+    The Perpetual Curate 2 v.
+    Miss Marjoribanks 2 v.
+    Ombra 2 v.
+    Memoir of Count de Montalembert 2 v.
+    May 2 v.
+    Innocent 2 v.
+    For Love and Life 2 v.
+    A Rose in June 1 v.
+    The Story of Valentine and his Brother 2 v.
+    Whiteladies 2 v.
+    The Curate in Charge 1 v.
+    Phoebe, Junior 2 v.
+    Mrs. Arthur 2 v.
+    Carità 2 v.
+    Young Musgrave 2 v.
+    The Primrose Path 2 v.
+    Within the Precincts 3 v.
+    The greatest Heiress in England 2 v.
+    He that will not when he may 2 v.
+    Harry Joscelyn 2 v.
+    In Trust 2 v.
+    It was a Lover and his Lass 3 v.
+    The Ladies Lindores 3 v.
+    Hester 3 v.
+    The Wizard's Son 3 v.
+
+  Ossian:
+    Poems 1 v.
+
+  Ouida:
+    Idalia 2 v.
+    Tricotrin 2 v.
+    Puck 2 v.
+    Chandos 2 v.
+    Strathmore 2 v.
+    Under two Flags 2 v.
+    Folle-Farine 2 v.
+    A Leaf in the Storm; A Dog of Flanders and other Stories 1 v.
+    Cecil Castlemaine's Gage 1 v.
+    Madame la Marquise 1 v.
+    Pascarèl 2 v.
+    Held in Bondage 2 v.
+    Two little Wooden Shoes 1 v.
+    Signa (w. portrait) 3 v.
+    In a Winter City 1 v.
+    Ariadnê 2 v.
+    Friendship 2 v.
+    Moths 3 v.
+    Pipistrello 1 v.
+    A Village Commune 2 v.
+    In Maremma 3 v.
+    Bimbi 1 v.
+    Wanda 3 v.
+    Frescoes, etc. 1 v.
+    Princess Napraxine 3 v.
+    A Rainy June (60 Pf.). Othmar 3 v.
+
+  Miss Parr (Holme Lee):
+    Basil Godfrey's Caprice 2 v.
+    For Richer, for Poorer 2 v.
+    The Beautiful Miss Barrington 2 v.
+    Her Title of Honour 1 v.
+    Echoes of a Famous Year 1 v.
+    Katherine's Trial 1 v.
+    Bessie Fairfax 2 v.
+    Ben Milner's Wooing 1 v.
+    Straightforward 2 v.
+    Mrs. Denys of Cote 2 v.
+    A Poor Squire 1 v.
+
+  Mrs. Parr:
+    Dorothy Fox 1 v.
+    The Prescotts of Pamphillon 2 v.
+    Gosau Smithy 1 v.
+    Robin 2 v.
+
+  "Paul Ferroll," Author of--
+    Paul Ferroll 1 v.
+    Year after Year 1 v.
+    Why Paul Ferroll killed his Wife 1 v.
+
+  James Payn:
+    Found Dead 1 v.
+    Gwendoline's Harvest 1 v.
+    Like Father, like Son 2 v.
+    Not Wooed, but Won 2 v.
+    Cecil's Tryst 1 v.
+    A Woman's Vengeance 2 v.
+    Murphy's Master 1 v.
+    In the Heart of a Hill 1 v.
+    At Her Mercy 2 v.
+    The Best of Husbands 2 v.
+    Walter's Word 2 v.
+    Halves 2 v.
+    Fallen Fortunes 2 v.
+    What He cost Her 2 v.
+    By Proxy 2 v.
+    Less Black than we're Painted 2 v.
+    Under one Roof 2 v.
+    High Spirits 1 v.
+    High Spirits (Second Series) 1 v.
+    A Confidential Agent 2 v.
+    From Exile 2 v.
+    A Grape from a Thorn 2 v.
+    Some Private Views 1 v.
+    For Cash Only 2 v.
+    Kit: A Memory 2 v.
+    The Canon's Ward 2 v.
+    Some Literary Recollections 1 v.
+    The Talk of the Town 1 v.
+    The Luck of the Darrells 2 v.
+
+  Miss Fr. M. Peard:
+    One Year 2 v.
+    The Rose-Garden 1 v.
+    Unawares 1 v.
+    Thorpe Regis 1 v.
+    A Winter Story 1 v.
+    A Madrigal 1 v.
+    Cartouche 1 v.
+    Mother Molly 1 v.
+    Schloss and Town 2 v.
+    Contradictions 2 v.
+    Near Neighbours 1 v.
+
+  Bishop Percy:
+    Reliques of Ancient English Poetry 3 v.
+
+  E. A. Poe:
+    Poems and Essays. Edited with a new Memoir by John H. Ingram 1 v.
+    Tales. Edited by John H. Ingram 1 v.
+
+  Pope:
+    Select Poetical Works (w. portrait) 1 v.
+
+  E. Frances Poynter:
+    My little Lady 2 v.
+    Ersilia 2 v.
+    Among the Hills 1 v.
+    Madame de Presnel 1 v.
+
+  Mrs. Campbell Praed:
+    Zéro 1 v.
+    Affinities 1 v.
+
+  Mrs. E. Prentiss:
+    Stepping Heavenward 1 v.
+
+  The Prince Consort's Speeches and Addresses 1 v.
+
+  Horace N. Pym:
+    _vide_ C. Fox.
+
+  W. F. Rae:
+    Westward by Rail 1 v.
+
+  Charles Reade:
+    "It is never too late to mend" 2 v.
+    "Love me little love me long" 1 v.
+    The Cloister and the Hearth 2 v.
+    Hard Cash 3 v.
+    Put Yourself in his Place 2 v.
+    A Terrible Temptation 2 v.
+    Peg Woffington 1 v.
+    Christie Johnstone 1 v.
+    A Simpleton 2 v.
+    The Wandering Heir 1 v.
+    A Woman-Hater 2 v.
+    Readiana 1 v.
+    Singleheart and Doubleface 1 v.
+
+  "Recommended to Mercy," Author of--
+    Recommended to Mercy 2 v.
+    Zoe's 'Brand' 2 v.
+
+  James Rice:
+    _vide_ W. Besant.
+
+  Alfred Bate Richards:
+    So very Human 3 v.
+
+  Richardson:
+    Clarissa Harlowe 4 v.
+
+  Mrs. Riddell (F. G. Trafford):
+    George Geith of Fen Court 2 v.
+    Maxwell Drewitt 2 v.
+    The Race for Wealth 2 v.
+    Far above Rubies 2 v.
+    The Earl's Promise 2 v.
+    Mortomley's Estate 2 v.
+
+  Rev. W. Robertson:
+    Sermons 4 v.
+
+  Charles H. Ross:
+    The Pretty Widow 1 v.
+    A London Romance 2 v.
+
+  Dante Gabriel Rossetti:
+    Poems 1 v.
+    Ballads and Sonnets 1 v.
+
+  J. Ruffini:
+    Lavinia 2 v.
+    Doctor Antonio 1 v.
+    Lorenzo Benoni 1 v.
+    Vincenzo 2 v.
+    A Quiet Nook 1 v.
+    The Paragreens on a Visit to Paris 1 v.
+    Carlino and other Stories 1 v.
+
+  W. Clark Russell:
+    A Sailor's Sweetheart 2 v.
+    The "Lady Maud" 2 v.
+    A Sea Queen 2 v.
+
+  G. A. Sala:
+    The Seven Sons of Mammon 2 v.
+
+  John Saunders:
+    Israel Mort, Overman 2 v.
+    The Shipowner's Daughter 2 v.
+    A Noble Wife 2 v.
+
+  Katherine Saunders:
+    Joan Merryweather and other Tales 1 v.
+    Gideon's Rock 1 v.
+    The High Mills 2 v.
+    Sebastian 1 v.
+
+  Sir Walter Scott:
+    Waverley (w. portrait) 1 v.
+    The Antiquary 1 v.
+    Ivanhoe 1 v.
+    Kenilworth 1 v.
+    Quentin Durward 1 v.
+    Old Mortality 1 v.
+    Guy Mannering 1 v.
+    Rob Roy 1 v.
+    The Pirate 1 v.
+    The Fortunes of Nigel 1 v.
+    The Black Dwarf;
+    A Legend of Montrose 1 v.
+    The Bride of Lammermoor 1 v.
+    The Heart of Mid-Lothian 2 v.
+    The Monastery 1 v.
+    The Abbot 1 v.
+    Peveril of the Peak 2 v.
+    The Poetical Works 2 v.
+    Woodstock 1 v.
+    The Fair Maid of Perth 1 v.
+    Anne of Geierstein 1 v.
+
+  Professor Seeley:
+    Life and Times of Stein 4 v.
+    The Expansion of England 1 v.
+
+  Miss Sewell:
+    Amy Herbert 2 v.
+    Ursula 2 v.
+    A Glimpse of the World 2 v.
+    The Journal of a Home Life 2 v.
+    After Life 2 v.
+    The Experience of Life; or, Aunt Sarah 2 v.
+
+  Shakespeare:
+    Plays and Poems (with portrait) (_Second Edition_) compl. 7 v.
+    _Shakespeare's_ Plays may also be had in 37 numbers, at M. 0,30.
+      each number.
+    Doubtful Plays 1 v.
+
+  Shelley:
+    A Selection from his Poems 1 v.
+
+  Nathan Sheppard:
+    Shut up in Paris (_Second Edition, enlarged_) 1 v.
+
+  Sheridan:
+    Dramatic Works 1 v.
+
+  J. Henry Shorthouse:
+    John Inglesant 2 v.
+
+  Smollett:
+    The Adventures of Roderick Random 1 v.
+    The Expedition of Humphry Clinker 1 v.
+    The Adventures of Peregrine Pickle 2 v.
+
+  Society in London. By a Foreign Resident 1 v.
+
+  Earl Stanhope (Lord Mahon):
+    History of England 7 v.
+    The Reign of Queen Anne 2 v.
+
+  Sterne:
+    The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy 1 v.
+    A Sentimental Journey (w. portrait) 1 v.
+
+  Robert Louis Stevenson:
+    Treasure Island 1 v.
+
+  "Still Waters," Author of--
+    Still Waters 1 v.
+    Dorothy 1 v.
+    De Cressy 1 v.
+    Uncle Ralph 1 v.
+    Maiden Sisters 1 v.
+    Martha Brown 1 v.
+    Vanessa 1 v.
+
+  M. C. Stirling:
+    Two Tales of Married Life 2 v.
+    Vol. II, A True Man,
+    Vol. I. _vide_ G. M. Craik.
+
+  "The Story of Elizabeth," Author of--
+    _v_. Miss Thackeray.
+
+  Mrs. H. Beecher Stowe:
+    Uncle Tom's Cabin (w. portrait) 2 v.
+    A Key to Uncle Tom's Cabin 2 v.
+    Dred 2 v.
+    The Minister's Wooing 1 v.
+    Oldtown Folks 2 v.
+
+  "Sunbeam Stories," Author of--
+    _vide_ Mackarness.
+
+  Swift:
+    Gulliver's Travels 1 v.
+
+  J. A. Symonds:
+    Sketches in Italy 1 v.
+    New Italian Sketches 1 v.
+
+  Baroness Tautphoeus:
+    Cyrilla 2 v.
+    The Initials 2 v.
+    Quits 2 v.
+    At Odds 2 v.
+
+  Colonel Meadows Taylor:
+    Tara: a Mahratta Tale 3 v.
+
+  Templeton:
+    Diary & Notes 1 v.
+
+  Lord Tennyson:
+    Poetical Works 7 v.
+    Queen Mary 1 v.
+    Harold 1 v.
+    Ballads and other Poems 1 v.
+    Becket; The Cup; The Falcon 1 v.
+
+  W. M. Thackeray:
+    Vanity Fair 3 v.
+    The History of Pendennis 3 v.
+    Miscellanies 8 v.
+    The History of Henry Esmond 2 v.
+    The English Humourists 1 v.
+    The Newcomes 4 v.
+    The Virginians 4 v.
+    The Four Georges;
+    Lovel the Widower 1 v.
+    The Adventures of Philip 2 v.
+    Denis Duval 1 v.
+    Roundabout Papers 2 v.
+    Catherine 1 v.
+    The Irish Sketch Book 2 v.
+    The Paris Sketch Book (w. portrait) 2 v.
+
+  Miss Thackeray:
+    The Story of Elizabeth 1 v.
+    The Village on the Cliff 1 v.
+    Old Kensington 2 v.
+    Bluebeard's Keys 1 v.
+    Five Old Friends 1 v.
+    Miss Angel 1 v.
+    Out of the World 1 v.
+    Fulham Lawn 1 v.
+    From an Island 1 v.
+    Da Capo 1 v.
+    Madame de Sévigné 1 v.
+    A Book of Sibyls 1 v.
+
+  Thomas a Kempis:
+    The Imitation of Christ 1 v.
+
+  A. Thomas:
+    Denis Donne 2 v.
+    On Guard 2 v.
+    Walter Goring 2 v.
+    Played out 2 v.
+    Called to Account 2 v.
+    Only Herself 2 v.
+    A narrow Escape 2 v.
+
+  Thomson:
+    Poetical Works (with portrait) 1 v.
+
+  F. G. Trafford:
+    _vide_ Mrs. Riddell.
+
+  G. O. Trevelyan:
+    The Life and Letters of Lord Macaulay (w. portrait) 4 v.
+    Selections from the Writings of Lord Macaulay 2 v.
+
+  Trois-Etoiles:
+    _vide_ Murray.
+
+  Anthony Trollope:
+    Doctor Thorne 2 v.
+    The Bertrams 2 v.
+    The Warden 1 v.
+    Barchester Towers 2 v.
+    Castle Richmond 2 v.
+    The West Indies 1 v.
+    Framley Parsonage 2 v.
+    North America 3 v.
+    Orley Farm 3 v.
+    Rachel Ray 2 v.
+    The Small House at Allington 3 v.
+    Can you forgive her? 3 v.
+    The Belton Estate 2 v.
+    Nina Balatka 1 v.
+    The Last Chronicle of Barset 3 v.
+    The Claverings 2 v.
+    Phineas Finn 3 v.
+    He knew he was Right 3 v.
+    The Vicar of Bullhampton 2 v.
+    Sir Harry Hotspur of Humblethwaite 1 v.
+    Ralph the Heir 2 v.
+    The Golden Lion of Granpere 1 v.
+    Australia and New Zealand 3 v.
+    Lady Anna 2 v.
+    Harry Heathcote of Gangoil 1 v.
+    The Way we live now 4 v.
+    The Prime Minister 4 v.
+    The American Senator 3 v.
+    South Africa 2 v.
+    Is he Popenjoy? 3 v.
+    An Eye for an Eye 1 v.
+    John Caldigate 3 v.
+    Cousin Henry 1 v.
+    The Duke's Children 3 v.
+    Dr. Wortle's School 1 v.
+    Ayala's Angel 3 v.
+    The Fixed Period 1 v.
+    Marion Fay 2 v.
+    Kept in the Dark 1 v.
+    Frau Frohmann, etc. 1 v.
+    Alice Dugdale, etc. 1 v.
+    La Mère Bauche, etc. 1 v.
+    The Mistletoe Bough, etc. 1 v.
+    An Autobiography 1 v.
+    An Old Man's Love 1 v.
+
+  T. Adolphus Trollope:
+    The Garstangs of Garstang Grange 2 v.
+    A Siren 2 v.
+
+  The Two Cosmos 1 v.
+
+  "Vèra," Author of--
+    Vèra 1 v.
+    The Hôtel du Petit St. Jean 1 v.
+    Blue Roses 2 v.
+    Within Sound of the Sea 2 v.
+    The Maritime Alps and their Seaboard 2 v.
+
+  Victoria R. I.:
+    _vide_ Leaves.
+
+  Virginia 1 v.
+
+  L. B. Walford:
+    Mr. Smith 2 v.
+    Pauline 2 v.
+    Cousins 2 v.
+    Troublesome Daughters 2 v.
+
+  Mackenzie Wallace:
+    Russia 3 v.
+
+  Eliot Warburton:
+    The Crescent and the Cross 2 v.
+    Darien 2 v.
+
+  S. Warren:
+    Passages from the Diary of a late Physician 2 v.
+    Ten Thousand a-Year 3 v.
+    Now and Then 1 v.
+    The Lily and the Bee 1 v.
+
+  "Waterdale Neighbours," Author of--
+    _vide_ Justin McCarthy.
+
+  Miss Wetherell:
+    The wide, wide World 1 v.
+    Queechy 2 v.
+    The Hills of the Shatemuc 2 v.
+    Say and Seal 2 v.
+    The Old Helmet 2 v.
+
+  A Whim and its Consequences 1 v.
+
+  W. White: Holidays in Tyrol 1 v.
+
+  "Who Breaks--Pays," Author of--
+    _vide_ Mrs. Jenkin.
+
+  J. S. Winter:
+    Regimental Legends 1 v.
+
+  Mrs. Henry Wood:
+    East Lynne 3 v.
+    The Channings 2 v.
+    Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles 2 v.
+    Verner's Pride 3 v.
+    The Shadow of Ashlydyat 3 v.
+    Trevlyn Hold 2 v.
+    Lord Oakburn's Daughters 2 v.
+    Oswald Cray 2 v.
+    Mildred Arkell 2 v.
+    St. Martin's Eve 2 v.
+    Elster's Folly 2 v.
+    Lady Adelaide's Oath 2 v.
+    Orville College 1 v.
+    A Life's Secret 1 v.
+    The Red Court Farm 2 v.
+    Anne Hereford 2 v.
+    Roland Yorke 2 v.
+    George Canterbury's Will 2 v.
+    Bessy Rane 2 v.
+    Dene Hollow 2 v.
+    The Foggy Night at Offord, etc. 1 v.
+    Within the Maze 2 v.
+    The Master of Greylands 2 v.
+    Johnny Ludlow (_First Series_) 2 v.
+    Told in the Twilight 2 v.
+    Adam Grainger 1 v.
+    Edina 2 v.
+    Pomeroy Abbey 2 v.
+    Lost in the Post, etc. By Johnny Ludlow 1 v.
+    A Tale of Sin, etc. By Johnny Ludlow 1 v.
+    Anne, etc. By Johnny Ludlow 1 v.
+    Court Netherleigh 2 v.
+    The Mystery of Jessy Page, etc. By Johnny Ludlow 1 v.
+    Helen Whitney's Wedding, etc. By Johnny Ludlow 1 v.
+    The Story of Dorothy Grape, etc. By Johnny Ludlow 1 v.
+
+  Wordsworth:
+    Select Poetical Works 2 v.
+
+  Lascelles Wraxall:
+    Wild Oats 1 v.
+
+  Edm. Yates:
+    Land at Last 2 v.
+    Broken to Harness 2 v.
+    The Forlorn Hope 2 v.
+    Black Sheep 2 v.
+    The Rock Ahead 2 v.
+    Wrecked in Port 2 v.
+    Dr. Wainwright's Patient 2 v.
+    Nobody's Fortune 2 v.
+    Castaway 2 v.
+    A Waiting Race 2 v.
+    The Yellow Flag 2 v.
+    The Impending Sword 2 v.
+    Two, by Tricks 1 v.
+    A Silent Witness 2 v.
+    Recollections and Experiences 2 v.
+
+  Miss Yonge:
+    The Heir of Redclyffe 2 v.
+    Heartsease 2 v.
+    The Daisy Chain 2 v.
+    Dynevor Terrace 2 v.
+    Hopes and Fears 2 v.
+    The Young Step-Mother 2 v.
+    The Trial 2 v.
+    The Clever Woman of the Family 2 v.
+    The Dove in the Eagle's Nest 2 v.
+    The Danvers Papers;
+    the Prince and the Page 1 v.
+    The Chaplet of Pearls 2 v.
+    The two Guardians 1 v.
+    The Caged Lion 2 v.
+    The Pillars of the House 5 v.
+    Lady Hester 1 v.
+    My Young Alcides 2 v.
+    The Three Brides 2 v.
+    Womankind 2 v.
+    Magnum Bonum 2 v.
+    Love and Life 1 v.
+    Unknown to History 2 v.
+    Stray Pearls (w. portrait) 2 v.
+    The Armourer's Prentices 2 v.
+    The two Sides of the Shield 2 v.
+
+  _The price of each volume is 1 Mark 60 Pfennige._
+
+
+
+
+  Collection of German Authors.
+
+
+  B. Auerbach:
+    On the Heights. Transl. by F. E. Bunnett. Second Authorized Edition,
+      thoroughly revised, 3 v.
+    Brigitta. From the German by C. Bell, 1 v.
+    Spinoza. From the German by Nicholson, 2 v.
+
+  G. Ebers:
+    An Egyptian Princess. Translated by E. Grove, 2 v.
+    Uarda. From the German by Bell, 2 v.
+    Homo Sum. From the German by Bell, 2 v.
+    The Sisters. From the German by Bell, 2 v.
+
+  Fouqué:
+    Undine, Sintram, etc. Translated by F. E. Bunnett, 1 v.
+
+  Ferdinand Freiligrath:
+    Poems. From the German. Edited by his Daughter. Second Copyright
+      Edition, enlarged, 1 v.
+
+  W. Görlach:
+    Prince Bismarck (with Portrait). From the German
+      by Miss M. E. von Glehn, 1 v.
+
+  Goethe:
+    Faust. From the German by John Anster, LL.D. 1 v.
+    Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship. From the German by Eleanor
+    Grove, 2 v.
+
+  K. Gutzkow:
+    Through Night to Light. From the German by M. A. Faber, 1 v.
+
+  F. W. Hackländer:
+    Behind the Counter [Handel u. Wandel]. From the German by Howitt, 1 v.
+
+  W. Hauff:
+    Three Tales. From the German by M. A. Faber, 1 v.
+
+  P. Heyse:
+    L'Arrabiata and other Tales. From the German by M. Wilson, 1 v.
+    The Dead Lake and other Tales. From the German by Mary Wilson, 1 v.
+    Barbarossa and other Tales. From the German by L. C. S., 1 v.
+
+  Wilhelmine von Hillern:
+    The Vulture Maiden [die Geier-Wally]. From the German by C. Bell
+      and E. F. Poynter, 1 v.
+    The Hour will come. From the German by Clara Bell, 2 v.
+
+  S. Kohn:
+    Gabriel. A Story of the Jews in Prague. From the German
+      by A. Milman, M.A., 1 v.
+
+  G. E. Lessing:
+    Nathan the Wise and Emilia Galotti. The former transl. by W. Taylor,
+      the latter by Chas. Lee Lewes, 1 v.
+
+  Fanny Lewald:
+    Stella. From the German by Beatrice Marshall, 2 v.
+
+  E. Marlitt:
+    The Princess of the Moor [das Haideprinzesschen], 2 v.
+
+  Maria Nathusius:
+    Joachim von Kamern and Diary of a poor young Lady. From the German
+      by Miss Thompson, 1 v.
+
+  Fritz Reuter:
+    In the Year '13: Transl. from the Platt-Deutsch by Chas.
+    Lee Lewes, 1 v.
+    An old Story of my Farming Days [Ut mine Stromtid]. From
+    the German
+      by M. W. Macdowall, 3 v.
+
+  Jean Paul Friedr. Richter:
+    Flower, Fruit and Thorn Pieces: or the Married Life, Death,
+      and Wedding of the Advocate of the Poor, Firmian Stanislaus
+      Siebenkäs.
+        Translated from the German by E. H. Noel, 2 v.
+
+  J. V. Scheffel:
+    Ekkehard. A Tale of the tenth Century. Translated from the German
+      by Sofie Delffs, 2 v.
+
+  G. Taylor:
+    Klytia. From the German by Sutton Fraser Corkran, 2 v.
+
+  H. Zschokke:
+    The Princess of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel and other Tales. From
+    the German
+      by M. A. Faber, 1 v.
+
+  _The price of each volume is 1 Mark 60 Pfennige._
+
+
+
+
+  Series for the Young.--_Each volume 1 Mark 60 Pf_.
+
+
+  Lady Barker:
+    Stories About. With Frontispiece, 1 v.
+
+  Louisa Charlesworth:
+    Ministering Children. With Frontispiece, 1 v.
+
+  Mrs. Craik (Miss Mulock):
+    Our Year. Illustrated by C. Dobell, 1 v.
+    Three Tales for Boys. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.
+    Three Tales for Girls. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.
+
+  Miss G. M. Craik:
+    Cousin Trix. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.
+
+  Maria Edgeworth:
+    Moral Tales. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.
+    Popular Tales. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 2 v.
+
+  Bridget & Julia Kavanagh:
+    The Pearl Fountain. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.
+
+  Charles and Mary Lamb:
+    Tales from Shakspeare. With the Portrait of Shakspeare, 1 v.
+
+  Emma Marshall:
+    Rex and Regina; or, The Song of the River. With six Illustrations,
+      1 vol.
+
+  Captain Marryat:
+    Masterman Ready; or, the Wreck of the Pacific. With Frontispiece, 1 v.
+
+  Florence Montgomery:
+    The Town-Crier; to which is added:
+    The Children with the Indian-Rubber Ball, 1 v.
+
+  Ruth and her Friends.
+    A Story for Girls. With Frontispiece, 1 v.
+
+  Mrs. Henry Wood:
+    William Allair; or, Running away to Sea. Frontispiece from a Drawing
+      by F. Gilbert, 1 v.
+
+  Miss Yonge:
+    Kenneth; or, the Rear-Guard of the Grand Army. With Frontispiece, 1 v.
+    The Little Duke. Ben Sylvester's Word. With a Frontispiece
+      by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.
+    The Stokesley Secret. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.
+    Countess Kate. With Frontispiece, 1 v.
+    A Book of Golden Deeds. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 2 v.
+    Friarswood Post-Office. With Frontispiece, 1 v.
+    Henrietta's Wish; or, Domineering. A Tale. With a Frontispiece
+      by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.
+    Kings of England: A History for the Young. With Frontispiece, 1 v.
+    The Lances of Lynwood; the Pigeon Pie. With Frontispiece, 1 v.
+    P's and Q's. With Frontispiece, 1 v.
+    Aunt Charlotte's Stories of English History. With Frontispiece, 1 v.
+    Bye-Words. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.
+    Lads and Lasses of Langley; Sowing and Sewing. With a Frontispiece
+      by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.
+
+
+
+
+  Tauchnitz Manuals of Conversation.
+
+  _Each bound M 2,25._
+
+
+  Neues Handbuch der _Englischen_ Conversationssprache von _A. Schlessing_.
+
+  A new Manual of the _German_ Language of Conversation by _A. Schlessing_.
+
+  Neues Handbuch der _Französischen_ Conversationssprache von _L. Rollin_.
+
+  Nouveau Manuel de la Conversation _Allemande_ par MM. _L. Rollin_ et
+    _Wolfgang Weber_.
+
+
+
+
+  Tauchnitz Dictionaries.
+
+
+A complete Dictionary of the English and German languages
+for general use. By _W. James_. Thirtieth Stereotype Edition.
+crown 8vo sewed Mark 4,50.
+
+A complete Dictionary of the English and French languages
+for general use. By _W. James_ and _A. Molé_. Thirteenth
+Stereotype Edition. crown 8vo sewed Mark 6,00.
+
+A complete Dictionary of the English and Italian languages
+for general use. By _W. James_ and _Gius. Grassi_. Ninth
+Stereotype Edition. crown 8vo sewed Mark 5,00.
+
+A New Pocket Dictionary of the English and German
+languages. By _J. E. Wessely_. Twelfth Stereotype Edition.
+16mo sewed Mark 1,50. bound Mark 2,25.
+
+A New Pocket Dictionary of the English and French
+languages. By _J. E. Wessely_. Twelfth Stereotype Edition.
+16mo sewed Mark 1,50. bound Mark 2,25.
+
+A New Pocket Dictionary of the English and Italian
+languages. By _J. E. Wessely_. Tenth Stereotype Edition.
+16mo sewed Mark 1,50. bound Mark 2,25.
+
+A New Pocket Dictionary of the English and Spanish
+languages. By _J. E. Wessely_ and _A. Gironés_. Ninth Stereotype
+Edition. 16mo sewed Mark 1,50. bound Mark 2,25.
+
+A New Pocket Dictionary of the French and German
+languages. By _J. E. Wessely_. Third Stereotype Edition.
+16mo sewed Mark 1,50. bound Mark 2,25.
+
+A New Pocket Dictionary of the Italian and German
+languages. By _G. Locella_. Third Stereotype Edition. 16mo
+sewed Mark 1,50. bound Mark 2,25.
+
+A New Dictionary of the Latin and English languages.
+Fifth Stereot. Ed. 16mo sewed Mark 1,50. bound Mark 2,25.
+
+A New Pocket Dictionary of the French and Spanish
+languages. By _L. Tolhausen_. Stereotype Edition. 16mo sewed
+Mark 1,50. bound Mark 2,25.
+
+Technological Dictionary in the French, English and
+German languages by _A._ and _L. Tolhausen_. Complete in three
+Parts, crown 8vo sewed Mark 26,50. Each Part separately:
+_French_, _German_, _English_ [Third Edition, with a grand Supplement]
+Mark 9,50. (Grand Supplement separate Mark 1,50.)
+_English_, _German_, _French_ [Third Edition, with a grand Supplement]
+Mark 9,00. (Grand Supplement separate Mark 1,00.)
+_German_, _English_, _French_ [Second Edition] Mark 8,00.
+
+A Hebrew and Chaldee Lexicon to the Old Testament.
+By Dr. _Julius Fürst_. Fifth Edition. Translated from the
+German by _Samuel Davidson_. Royal 8vo sewed Mark 19,00.
+
+No orders of private purchasers are executed by the publisher.
+
+
+  BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ, LEIPZIG.
+
+
+
+
+  January 1886.
+
+  Tauchnitz Edition.
+
+  Forthcoming Volumes:
+
+
+A new Novel. By Rhoda Broughton, Author of "Cometh up as a Flower."
+
+Don Gesualdo. A new Story. By Ouida.
+
+Green Pleasure and Grey Grief. A new Novel. By the Author of "Molly Bawn."
+
+Rainbow Gold. A new Novel. By D. Christie Murray.
+
+White Heather. A new Novel. By William Black.
+
+Mrs. Dymond. A new Novel. By Miss Thackeray.
+
+A Perilous Life. A new Novel. By Charles Reade.
+
+A new Novel. By Mrs. Oliphant.
+
+The Biography of Lord Lytton. By his Son, the Earl of Lytton.
+
+Allerton Towers. A new Novel. By Miss Annie Thomas.
+
+Miss Vandeleur. A new Novel. By John Saunders.
+
+Fortune's Fool. A new Novel. By Julian Hawthorne.
+
+Saint Mungo's City. A new Novel. By Sarah Tytler.
+
+Nuttie's Father. A new Novel. By Miss Yonge, Author of "The Heir of
+  Redclyffe."
+
+No. XIII; or, The Story of the Lost Vestal. A new Novel.
+By Emma Marshall.
+
+
+  A complete Catalogue of the Tauchnitz Edition is attached to this work.
+
+
+  Bernhard Tauchnitz, Leipzig;
+
+  And sold by all booksellers.
+
+
+
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's note:
+
+  Hyphenation, spelling and grammar have been preserved as in
+    the original.
+
+  Three pages of handwriting at front were not easily read and
+    there might be errors in transcription.
+
+  Page 72, "Lilybæaum" changed to "Lilybæum"
+
+  Page 149, "Golden, und gleaming" changed to "Golden, and gleaming"
+
+  Page 279, "turned aud beheld" changed to "turned and beheld"
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SELECTION FROM THE POEMS OF
+WILLIAM MORRIS***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 35227-8.txt or 35227-8.zip *******
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+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" />
+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Selection from the Poems of William Morris, by William Morris</title>
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+<body>
+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Selection from the Poems of William Morris,
+by William Morris, Edited by Francis Hueffer</h1>
+<pre>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: A Selection from the Poems of William Morris</p>
+<p>Author: William Morris</p>
+<p>Editor: Francis Hueffer</p>
+<p>Release Date: February 9, 2011  [eBook #35227]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SELECTION FROM THE POEMS OF WILLIAM MORRIS***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h4>E-text prepared by David T. Jones, Ross Cooling,<br />
+    and the Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team<br />
+    (<a href="http://www.pgdpcanada.net">http://www.pgdpcanada.net</a>)<br />
+    from page images generously made available by<br />
+    Internet Archive/American Libraries<br />
+    (<a href="http://www.archive.org/details/americana">http://www.archive.org/details/americana</a>)</h4>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10">
+  <tr>
+    <td valign="top">
+      Note:
+    </td>
+    <td>
+      Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
+      <a href="http://www.archive.org/details/selectionfrompoe00morrrich">
+      http://www.archive.org/details/selectionfrompoe00morrrich</a>
+	</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<img src="images/p002.jpg" width="385" height="471" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<br /><br />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 299px;">
+<img src="images/p007.jpg" width="299" height="400" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 299px">
+<img src="images/p008.jpg" width="299" height="400" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>Franz Hueffer who came into the Rossetti circle in the manner indicated
+in the following letter (of which the greater part is in the writing of
+the late Lucy Rossetti - daughter of Ford Madox Brown) was a
+broad-headed, plodding, able German who wrote and spoke English
+perfectly enough before his naturalization. He was somewhat heavy in his
+enthusiasms; and Gabriel Rossetti laughed at him a good deal. On one
+occasion D.G.R. let off the following "nursery rhyme":&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+There's a fluffy-haired German called Huffer<br />
+A loud and pragmatical duffer:<br />
+To stand on a tower<br />
+And shout "Schopenhauer"<br />
+Is reckoned his mission by Huffer.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>There was no malice in these rhymes of Rossetti's; but even his dear
+friend Morris ("Topsy" as his intimates called him on account of his
+shock of black hair) was not exempt from personal sallies of the
+kind,&mdash;as this, when M. got alarmed about his increasing bulk:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+There was a young person called Topsy<br />
+Who fancied he suffered from dropsy;<br />
+He shook like a jelly,<br />
+Till the Doctor cried "Belly!"&mdash;<br />
+Which angered; but comforted Topsy.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>Poor dear Morris! he had cause enough for alarm. Diabetes was only one
+among the agencies by which his stalwart frame was disintegrated at the
+age of 62.</p>
+
+<p class="center">H.B.F.</p>
+
+<p>7 November 1897.</p>
+
+
+<br /><br />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 299px;">
+<img src="images/p009.jpg" width="299" height="462" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+<br />
+
+
+<p>May 27th/89</p>
+
+<p class="right">5 ENDSLEIGH GARDENS.</p>
+
+<p class="right">N.W.</p>
+
+<p>Dear Forman,</p>
+
+<p>Please excuse a very laconic presentment of the facts. Francis Hueffer,
+Musical Critic of the "Times", author of the libretto of "Columba" of a
+volume on the "Troubadours" of "Half a century of Music in England" etc
+etc, died last Jan 7 aged 43 leaving a widow &amp; three children, &amp; little
+indeed.</p>
+
+
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+<h5>EACH VOLUME SOLD SEPARATELY.</h5>
+<br />
+<br />
+<h2>COLLECTION</h2>
+<h4>OF</h4>
+<h1>BRITISH AUTHORS</h1>
+<br />
+<h3>TAUCHNITZ EDITION.</h3>
+<br />
+<h3>VOL. 2378.<br />
+POEMS BY WILLIAM MORRIS<br />
+IN ONE VOLUME.</h3>
+<br />
+<br />
+<h4>LEIPZIG: BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ</h4>
+<h5>PARIS: C. REINWALD, 15, RUE DES SAINTS P&Egrave;RES.</h5>
+<h5>PARIS: THE GALIGNANI LIBRARY, 224, RUE DE RIVOLI, AND AT NICE, 15, QUAI
+MASSENA.</h5>
+<br />
+<h4><i>This Collection is published with copyright for Continental
+circulation, but all purchasers are earnestly requested not to introduce
+the volumes into England or into any British Colony.</i></h4>
+
+
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+<h2>COLLECTION</h2>
+<h4>OF</h4>
+<h1>BRITISH AUTHORS</h1>
+<h3>TAUCHNITZ EDITION.</h3>
+<br />
+<h3>VOL. 2378.<br />
+<br />
+POEMS BY WILLIAM MORRIS.<br />
+<br />
+IN ONE VOLUME.</h3>
+
+
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+<h3>A SELECTION</h3>
+<h5>FROM</h5>
+<h2>THE POEMS</h2>
+<h5>OF</h5>
+<h1>WILLIAM MORRIS.</h1>
+<br />
+<h5>EDITED</h5>
+<h3>WITH A MEMOIR</h3>
+<h4>BY FRANCIS HUEFFER.</h4>
+<br />
+<h4><i>COPYRIGHT EDITION.</i></h4>
+<br />
+<br />
+<h3>LEIPZIG<br />
+BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ<br />
+1886.</h3>
+<h4><i>The Right of Translation is reserved.</i></h4>
+
+
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+<h2>MEMOIR</h2>
+<h3>OF</h3>
+<h2>WILLIAM MORRIS.</h2>
+
+
+<p>William Morris, poet, decorative designer and socialist, was born in
+1834 at Clay Street, Walthamstow, now almost a suburb of London, at that
+time a country village in Essex. He went to school at Marlborough
+College and thence to Exeter College, Oxford, where he took his degree
+in 1857. During his stay in the University the subsequent mode of his
+life was prepared and foreshadowed in two important directions. Like
+most poets Morris was not what is called very assiduous "at his book";
+the routine of college training was no more an attraction to him than
+the ordinary amusements and dissipations of undergraduate existence. But
+he was studious all the same, reading the classics in his own somewhat
+spasmodic way and exploring with even greater zeal the mysteries of
+medi&aelig;val lore. His fellow-worker in these studies and his most intimate
+friend was and is at the present day Mr. Burne Jones, the famous
+painter, at that time a student of divinity. Artistic and literary
+pursuits thus went hand in hand, and received additional zest when the
+two young men became acquainted with Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Holman Hunt
+and other painters of the Pre-Raphaelite school who came to Oxford to
+execute the frescoes still dimly visible on the ceiling of the Union
+Debating Hall. Of the aims and achievements of the Pre-Raphaelite
+Brotherhood, and of the revival of medi&aelig;val feeling in art and
+literature originally advocated by its members ample account has been
+given in the memoir of Rossetti prefixed to his poems in the Tauchnitz
+edition. Its influence on Morris's early work, both in matter and form,
+will strike every observant reader of the opening ballads of the present
+collection. Later on the poet worked out for himself a distinct and
+individual phase of the medi&aelig;val movement, as will be mentioned by and
+by. At one time little was wanting to make Morris follow his friend
+Burne Jones's example and leave the pen for the brush. There is indeed
+still extant from his hand an unfinished picture evincing a remarkable
+sense of colour. He also for a short time became a pupil of the late Mr.
+G. E. Street, the architect, to whose genius London owes its finest
+modern Gothic building&mdash;the Law Courts in the Strand. On second
+thoughts, however, Morris came to the conclusion that poetry was his
+true field of action. His first literary venture was a monthly
+periodical started under his auspices in 1856 and called <i>The Oxford and
+Cambridge Magazine</i>. It contained, amongst other contributions from
+Morris's pen, a prose tale of a highly romantic character, and was, as
+regards artistic tendencies, essentially a sequel of <i>The Germ</i>, the
+organ of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, begun and continued for three
+numbers only, six years before. Several of the contributors to the
+earlier venture, including Rossetti, also supported its offshoot.
+Neither, however, gained popular favour, and after a year's struggling
+existence <i>The Oxford and Cambridge Magazine</i> also came to an untimely
+end. At present both are eagerly sought for by collectors and fetch high
+prices at antiquarian sales. So changeable is the fate of books.</p>
+
+<p>In 1859 Morris married, after having the year before brought out his
+first volume of verse entitled <i>The Defence of Guenevere and Other
+Poems</i>. The book fell dead from the press, and it was not till it was
+republished 25 years later that the world recognised in it some of the
+freshest and most individual efforts of its author, whose literary
+position was by that time established beyond cavil. That position the
+poet owed in the first instance to two works published in rapid
+succession, <i>The Life and Death of Jason</i>, and <i>The Earthly Paradise</i>,
+the latter a collection of tales in verse filling four stout volumes.
+His remaining original works are <i>Love is enough</i>, a "morality" in the
+medi&aelig;val sense of the word, and <i>The Story of Sigurd the Volsung</i>, his
+longest and, in the opinion of some, his most perfect epic. In addition
+to these should be mentioned the translations from the old Norse
+undertaken in conjunction with Mr. Magnusson the well-known Icelandic
+scholar, and comprising <i>The Story of Grettir the Strong</i> (1869), <i>The
+Volsunga Saga, with certain songs from the Elder Edda</i> (1870), and
+<i>Three Northern Love Stories</i> (1875); and finally a metrical rendering
+of <i>The &AElig;neids of Virgil</i>.</p>
+
+<p>For a critical discussion or a detailed analysis of Morris's work this
+is not the place. It must be sufficient to indicate briefly the ideas
+which underlie that work and give it its literary <i>cachet</i>. Two main
+currents, derivable perhaps from a common source but running in
+different directions can be easily discerned. The subjects of his tales
+are almost without exception derived either from Greek myth or from
+medi&aelig;val folklore. After all that has been said and written of the gulf
+that divides the classic from the romantic feeling&mdash;<i>"Barbaren und
+Hellenen</i>", as Heine puts it, such a conjunction might appear
+incongruous. But the connecting link has here been found in the poet's
+mind. He looks upon his classical subject-matter through a medi&aelig;val
+atmosphere, in other words he writes about Venus and Cupid and Psyche
+and Medea as a poet of Chaucer's age might have done, barring of course
+the differences of language, although in this respect also it may be
+noted that the archaisms of expression affected by the modern poet
+appear indifferently in the Greek and the medi&aelig;val tales. The phenomenon
+is by no means unique in literature. Let the reader compare Chapman's
+Homer with Pope's, or let him open Morris's <i>Jason</i> where the bells of
+Colchis "melodiously begin to ring", and the meaning of the
+afore-mentioned "medi&aelig;val atmosphere" will at once be as palpable to him
+as it was to Keats when, reading Chapman's rude verse, after Pope's
+polished stanzas, he felt</p>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">like some watcher of the skies</span>
+<span class="i0">When a new planet swims into his ken.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>It was the romantic chord of Keats's nature, that chord which vibrates
+in <i>La belle Dame sans Merci</i>, which was harmoniously struck and made
+the great master of form overlook the formal imperfection of the
+earlier poet. To the same element such stories as <i>Jason</i>, or <i>The Love
+of Alcestis</i> and the <i>Bellerophon</i> in <i>The Earthly Paradise</i> owe their
+charm.</p>
+
+<p>Morris's position towards medi&aelig;val subjects did not at first essentially
+differ from that of other poets of similar tendency. In his first volume
+English and French knights and damsels figure prominently, and the
+beautiful and frail wife of King Arthur is the heroine of the chief poem
+and has given her name to the book. But in the interval which elapsed
+between that volume and the <i>Earthly Paradise</i> a considerable change had
+come over the poet's dream. By the aid of Mr. Magnusson he had become
+acquainted with the treasure of northern folklore hidden in the
+Icelandic sagas, the two Eddas, the story of the Volsungs (of which a
+masterly translation is due to the two friends), the Laxd&aelig;la saga and
+other tales of more or less remote antiquity.</p>
+
+<p>In the <i>Earthly Paradise</i> the double current of the poet's fancy above
+alluded to is most strikingly apparent. The very framework in which the
+various tales are set seems to have been designed with that view. Guided
+probably by a vague tradition of a pre-Columbian discovery of America by
+the Vikings, the prologue relates how during a terrible pestilence
+certain mariners leave their northern home in search of the land where
+old age and death are not and where life is rounded by unbroken
+pleasure. Sailing west they come to a fair country. They gaze on
+southern sunshine and virgin forest and fertile champaign, but death
+meets them at every step, and happiness is farthest from their grasp
+when the people worship them as gods and sacrifice at their shrine.
+Escaping from this golden thraldom they regain their ship, and after
+many dangers and privations are driven by the wind to an island
+inhabited by descendants of the ancient Greeks, who have preserved their
+old worship and their old freedom. Here the weary wanderers of the main
+are hospitably received, and here they resolve to dwell in peace,
+forgetful of their vain search for the earthly paradise. At the
+beginning and the middle of every month the elders of the people and
+their guests meet together to while away the time with song and friendly
+converse. The islanders relate the traditions of their Grecian home, the
+mariners relate the sagas of the North, and Laurence, a Swabian priest
+who had joined the Norsemen in their quest, contributes the legends of
+Tannh&auml;user and of the ring given to Venus by the Roman youth. Here then
+there is full scope for the quaint beauty of romantic classicism and for
+the weird glamour of northern myth. Without encroaching upon the field
+of criticism proper the writer may state that, in his opinion, amongst
+the classic tales none is more graceful and finished than "The Golden
+Apples", and amongst the northern none more grandly developed and more
+epical in the strict sense of the word than <i>The Lovers of Gudrun</i> based
+upon the Icelandic Laxd&aelig;la saga. The latter, unfortunately, cannot find
+a place in this volume for reasons of space.</p>
+
+<p>Every student of old northern literature is aware that amongst its
+remains none are more interesting as literary monuments, none more
+characteristic of the people from which they sprang than the two Eddas
+and the Volsunga Saga. Next to the Siege of Troy and the Arthurian
+legends perhaps no story or agglomeration of stories has left so many
+and so important traces in international fiction as the tale of Sigurd
+or Siegfried and his race, the heroic god-born Volsungs. Considering
+indeed the political insignificance and remoteness in which that story
+took its earliest surviving form this enormous success&mdash;if the modern
+term may be applied&mdash;seems at first singularly out of proportion. But it
+must be remembered that Iceland was little more than the storehouse of
+these old traditions which were the common property of the
+Teuto-Scandinavian race long before the Norsemen set foot on the
+northern isle. Of the two modern versions of the tale which are most
+thoroughly inspired by the ancient myth one, that of Wagner in his
+tetralogy <i>Der Ring des Nibelungen</i>, is dramatic in form, the other,
+Morris's <i>The Story of Sigurd the Volsung</i>, bears all the
+characteristics of the epic. To this difference of artistic aim, the
+difference of shape which the tale takes in the hands of the two poets
+may be traced. In one point however they agree. Both Wagner and Morris
+go back to the old Icelandic sources in preference to the medi&aelig;val
+German version of the tale embodied in the <i>Nibelungenlied</i>. From this
+the German poet borrows little more than the localization of his drama
+on the banks of the river Rhine, the English poet scarcely anything but
+his metre&mdash;the <i>Langzeile</i> or long-line with six hightoned, and any
+number of unaccentuated syllables.</p>
+
+<p>The ordinary modern reader taking up the Volsunga Saga or either of the
+Eddas without preparation would probably see in them little more than a
+confused accumulation of impossible adventures and deeds of prowess with
+an admixture of incest, fratricide and other horrors. But on looking
+closer one discovers a certain plan in this entanglement, a plan much
+obscured by the unbridled fancy of the old narrators, and hardly
+realised by themselves, but which, if properly sifted, amounts to what
+we should call a moral or idea. To "point this moral," to consistently
+develop this idea, is the task of the modern poet courageous enough to
+grapple with such a subject. Two ways are open to him. Either he may
+wholly abandon the sequence of the old tale, and group its <i>disjecta
+membra</i> round a leading idea as a centre, or else he may adhere to the
+order and essence of the legend as originally told, only emphasising
+such points as are essential to the significance of the story, and
+omitting or throwing into comparative shade those incidents which by
+their nature betray themselves to be arbitrary additions of later date.
+Wagner has chosen the former way, Morris the latter. This fact, and the
+divergent requirements of the drama and the epic, sufficiently account
+for their difference of treatment. The leading idea in both cases
+remains the same; it is the fatal curse which attaches to the gold or,
+which is the same in a moral sense, to the desire for gold&mdash;<i>auri sacra
+fames</i>.</p>
+
+<p>At first sight the tale of Sigurd, Fafnir's bane, seems to have little
+connection with this idea. It is briefly this. Sigurd, the son of
+Sigmund the Volsung, is brought up at the court of King Elf, the second
+husband of his mother, after Sigmund has been slain in battle. With a
+sword, fashioned from the shards of his father's weapon, he slays
+Fafnir, a huge worm or dragon, and possesses himself of the treasure
+watched by the monster, including a ring and the "helm of aweing," the
+latter in the <i>Nibelungenlied</i>, converted into the "Tarnkappe", a magic
+cap which makes the bearer invisible and endows him with supernatural
+strength. Tasting of the blood of the dragon, he understands the
+language of birds, and an eagle tells him of a beautiful maiden lying
+asleep on a rock called Hindfell, surrounded by a wall of wavering fire.
+Through it Sigurd rides and awakes Brynhild the sword maiden, or
+Valkyrie, from her magic slumber. Love naturally follows. The pair live
+together on Hindfell for a season and Brynhild teaches the youth the
+runes of her wisdom, a conception of woman's refining and civilising
+mission frequently met with in old Germanic tales. When Sigurd leaves
+her to seek new adventures they plight the troth of eternal love, and</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then he set the ring on her finger, and once if ne'er again</span>
+<span class="i0">They kissed and clung together, and their hearts were full and fain.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>From Brynhild's rock Sigurd journeys to a realm "south of the Rhine"
+where dwell the kingly brothers, Gunnar, Hogni, and Guttorm, the
+Niblungs, together with their sister Gudrun, "the fairest of maidens",
+and their mother Grimhild, "a wise wife" and a fierce-hearted woman, as
+the Volsunga Saga alternately describes her. It is through a
+love-philter brewed by her that Sigurd forgets the vows exchanged with
+Brynhild, and becomes enamoured of Gudrun, whom he soon after weds. So
+powerful is the charm that the very name of his former love has been
+wiped from Sigurd's memory, and he willingly undertakes the task to woo
+and win Brynhild for his brother Gunnar. For that purpose he, by means
+of his magic cap, assumes Gunnar's semblance, and after having once
+more crossed the wall of wavering flame compels Brynhild to become his
+bride. But, faithful to his promise, he places a drawn sword between
+himself and the maid "as they lie on one bed together." On parting from
+her he receives back from Brynhild his own ring given to her at Hindfell
+in the days of their bliss. Sigurd then returns to Gunnar and resumes
+his own form, and all return home, the King leading his unwilling bride
+in triumph.</p>
+
+<p>The subsequent events are the outgrowth of the tragic guilt thus
+incurred. Sigurd reveals the secret of Brynhild's wooing to his wife,
+and allows her to take possession of the fatal ring, which she during a
+quarrel shows to Gunnar's wife. Brynhild thus informed of the fraud
+practised on her, thinks of vengeance, and incites her husband and his
+brothers to kill Sigurd. The deed is done while Sigurd lies asleep in
+his chamber with Gudrun, or, according to the more poetic version of the
+German epic, while he bends over a brook in the forest to quench his
+thirst after a day's hunting. But as soon as her beloved foe is killed
+the old passion never quenched rises up again in Brynhild's heart. To be
+united with her lover in death she pierces her breast with a sword, and
+one pyre consumes both.</p>
+
+<p>With this climax Wagner very properly concludes his drama. But the epic
+poet likes to follow the course of events to their ultimate
+consequences, and Morris, in accordance with the Volsunga Saga, proceeds
+to relate how, after many years of mournful widowhood, Gudrun is married
+to Atli, a mighty king, the brother of Brynhild. Eager to become
+possessed of Sigurd's treasure he invites the Niblungs, its actual
+owners, to his country, and there the kingly brothers and all their
+followers are killed by base treachery and after the most heroic
+resistance. They refuse sternly to ransom their lives by a discovery of
+the hoard which previous to their departure they have hidden at the
+bottom of a lake, and which thus is irrecoverably lost to mankind.
+Gudrun has incited her husband to the deed and has looked on calmly
+while her kinsmen were slain one after the other. But when all are dead
+and the murder of Sigurd has been revenged, the feeling of blood
+relationship so powerful among Northern nations is reawakened in her.
+While Atli and his earls are asleep she sets fire to the kingly hall,
+and her wretched husband falls by her own hand. It is characteristic of
+the Icelandic epic that after all these fates and horrors Gudrun lives
+for a number of years and is yet again married to a third husband. But
+to this length even Morris refuses to accompany the tale. In accordance
+with the Volsunga Saga his Gudrun throws herself into the sea; but the
+waves do not carry her "to the burg of king Imakr, a mighty king and
+lord of many folk."</p>
+
+<p>All this is very grand and weird, the reader will say, but where is the
+moral, the ideal essence of which these events are but the earthly
+reflex? To this essence we gradually ascend by inquiring into the
+mythological sources of the tale, by asking who is Sigurd, whence does
+he come, on what mission is he sent and by whom? also what is the
+significance of the treasure watched by a dragon and coveted by all
+mankind? This treasure we then shall find and the curse attaching to it
+ever since it was robbed from Andvari, the water-elf, is the keynote of
+the whole story. The curse proves fatal to all its successive owners
+from Andvari himself and Fafnir, who, for its sake, kills his father,
+down to Sigurd and Brynhild and the Niblung brothers. Nay, Odin himself,
+the supreme God, becomes subject to the curse of the gold through having
+once coveted it, and we dimly discern that the ultimate doom of the
+Aesir, the Ragnar&ouml;k, or dusk of the Gods, of which the Voluspa speaks,
+is intimately connected with the same baneful influence. It further
+becomes evident that Sigurd the Volsung, the descendant of Odin, is
+destined to wrest the treasure and the power derived from it from the
+Niblungs, the dark or cloudy people who threaten the bright godworld of
+Valhall with destruction. And this leads us back to a still earlier
+stage of the myth in which Sigurd himself becomes the symbol of the
+celestial luminary conquering night and misty darkness, an idea
+repeatedly hinted at by Morris and splendidly illustrated by Wagner,
+when Siegfried appears on the stage illumined by the first rays of the
+rising sun. In the work of the German poet all this is brought out with
+a distinctness of which only dramatic genius of the highest order is
+capable. With an astounding grasp of detail and with a continuity of
+thought rarely equalled, Wagner has remoulded the confused and complex
+argument of the old tale, omitting what seemed unnecessary, and placing
+in juxtaposition incidents organically connected but separated by the
+obtuseness of later sagamen.</p>
+
+<p>Morris, as has been said before, proceeds on a different principle. His
+first object is to tell a tale, and to tell it as nearly as possible in
+the spirit and according to the letter of the old Sagas. In this he has
+succeeded in a manner at once indicative of his high poetic gifts and of
+a deep sympathy with the spirit of the Northern Myth, which breathes in
+every line and in every turn of his phraseology. To compare the peculiar
+tinge of his language with the ordinary archaisms and euphonisms of
+literary poets would be mistaking a field flower for its counterpart in
+a milliner's shop window. It is true that he also hints at the larger
+philosophic and moral issues of the tale. But when he refers to the end
+of the gods brought about by their own guilt or to the redeeming mission
+of Sigurd, it is done in the mysterious, not to say half conscious
+manner of the saga itself, and the effect is such as from his own point
+of view he intended it and could not but intend it to be.</p>
+
+<p>Between the publication of <i>The Defence of Guenevere</i> and that of Jason
+ten years elapsed. During most of this time the poet was employed in
+artistic pursuits. In 1861 he started in conjunction with a number of
+friends the business of decorator and artistic designer which still
+bears his name. Growing from very modest beginnings this enterprise was
+destined to work an entire change in the external aspect of English
+homes. It soon extended its activity to every branch of art-workmanship.
+D. G. Rossetti, Madox Brown, and Burne Jones drew cartoons for the
+stained glass windows to be seen in many of our churches and colleges.
+Morris himself designed wall-papers and the patterns of carpets. The
+latter are woven on hand-looms in his factory at Merton Abbey, which
+stands on the banks of the river Wandle surrounded by orchards, and
+looks as like a medieval workshop as the modern dresses of the workgirls
+will allow. Another member of the firm, Philip Webb, was the first
+modern architect to build houses of red brick in the style vaguely and
+not quite correctly described as "Queen Anne." At present these houses
+count by thousands in London and a whole village of them has been built
+at Turnham Green. The members of the firm did not confine their
+attention to any particular style or age or country. Wherever beautiful
+things could be found they collected them and made them popular. Old
+china English, and foreign, Japanese fans and screens, Venetian glass
+and German pottery were equally welcome to them and through them to the
+public generally. It may be said that the "aesthetic" fashion as it came
+to be called will like other fashions die out, and that people in the
+course of time will grow tired of "living up to" their furniture and
+dresses. At the same time the idea thus insisted upon that beauty is an
+essential and necessary ingredient of practical modern English life is
+not likely to be without beneficial and permanent effect.</p>
+
+<p>It was as artistic worker and employer of skilled labour that Morris
+imbibed that profound disgust with our social condition which induced
+him to adopt the principles of extreme socialism. For a long time his
+views had tended in that direction, and at the end of 1884 he joined the
+Socialist League, a body professing the doctrines of international
+revolutionary socialism. He is the editor of its official organ, the
+<i>Commonweal</i>, which contains many contributions from his pen both in
+prose and verse. That the poet has not been entirely sunk in the
+politician, that longing for beauty is at least the partial cause of
+this desire for change at any price, is however proved by such a
+sentiment as, "Beauty, which is what is meant by <i>art</i>, using the word
+in its widest sense, is, I contend, no mere accident of human life which
+people can take or have as they choose, but a positive necessity of
+life, if we are to live as nature meant us to, that is unless we are
+content to be less than men," or by such a vision of a future earthly
+paradise as is expressed in the following lines:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then a man shall work and bethink him, and rejoice in the deeds of his hand,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor yet come home in the even, too faint and weary to stand,</span>
+<span class="i0">.&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .</span>
+<span class="i0">For that which the worker winneth shall then be his indeed,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor shall half be reaped for nothing by him that sowed no seed.</span>
+<span class="i0">.&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .&nbsp; .</span>
+<span class="i0">Then all <i>mine</i> and <i>thine</i> shall be <i>ours</i>, and no more shall any man crave</span>
+<span class="i0">For riches that serve for nothing but to fetter a friend for a slave.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>One may admire the pathetic beauty of such lines, without sharing the
+poet's hope, that their import will ever be realised, in a world peopled
+by men and not by angels. History teaches and personal experience
+confirms that art enjoyment and art creation of the highest type must be
+confined to the few, and it is to be feared that social democracy,
+whatever it may do for the physical welfare of the many, will care
+little about beauty, either in nature or in art. The <i>Demos</i> will never
+admire Rossetti's pictures or Keats's poetry, and the first thing the
+much-vaunted peasant proprietors, or peasant communes would do would be
+to cut down our ancient trees, level every hedgerow and turn parks and
+commons into potato plots or it may be turnip fields. One may feel
+certain of all this and yet admire the author of <i>The Earthly
+Paradise</i>, "the idle singer of an empty day" when he preaches universal
+brotherhood in the crossways of Hammersmith, and wrestles with
+policemen, or wrangles with obtuse magistrates about the freedom of
+speech. Conviction thus upheld at the cost of worldly advantage and
+personal convenience and taste must command respect even from those who
+cannot share it.</p>
+
+<p style="margin-left: 70%;"><span class="smcap">Francis Hueffer.</span></p>
+
+
+<br /><br />
+<h2>CONTENTS.</h2>
+<hr style="width: 15%;" />
+
+<table summary="Contents1" width="60%">
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+<td class="tdr">Page</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p><span class="smcap">From</span> "THE DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE AND OTHER POEMS."</p>
+<table summary="Contents2" width="60%">
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_DEFENCE_OF_GUENEVERE">The Defence of Guenevere</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">23</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><a href="#A_GOOD_KNIGHT_IN_PRISON">A Good Knight in Prison</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">36</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><a href="#SHAMEFUL_DEATH">Shameful Death</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">41</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_EVE_OF_CRECY">The Eve of Crecy</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">43</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_HAYSTACK_IN_THE_FLOODS">The Haystack in the Floods</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">45</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><a href="#RIDING_TOGETHER">Riding together</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">51</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><a href="#SUMMER_DAWN">Summer Dawn</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">54</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br />
+<br />
+<p><span class="smcap">From</span> "THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON." (Book <span class="smcap">XIV</span>.)</p>
+<br />
+<table summary="Contents3" width="60%">
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_SIRENS">The Sirens.&mdash;The Garden of the Hesperides.&mdash;The Heroes do Sacrifice at Malea</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">55</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br />
+<br />
+<p><span class="smcap">From</span> "THE EARTHLY PARADISE."</p>
+<br />
+<table summary="Contents4" width="60%">
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><a href="#AN_APOLOGY">An Apology</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">82</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><a href="#PROLOGUE">From Prologue&mdash;The Wanderers</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">84</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><a href="#OGIER_THE_DANE">Ogier the Dane</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">95</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_GOLDEN_APPLES">The golden Apples</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">147</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><a href="#LENVOI">L'Envoi</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">168</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">From</span> "LOVE IS ENOUGH."<br />
+<br />
+<table summary="Contents5" width="60%">
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><a href="#INTERLUDES">Interludes</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">173</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">From</span> "THE STORY OF SIGURD THE VOLSUNG." (Book II.)<br />
+<br />
+<table summary="Contents5" width="60%">
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><a href="#REGIN">Regin</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">178</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<br /><br />
+<h3>FROM</h3>
+
+<h2>"THE DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE AND OTHER POEMS."</h2>
+
+<h2><a name="THE_DEFENCE_OF_GUENEVERE" id="THE_DEFENCE_OF_GUENEVERE"></a>THE DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;But, knowing now that they would have her speak,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;She threw her wet hair backward from her brow,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Her hand close to her mouth touching her cheek,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;As though she had had there a shameful blow,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;And feeling it shameful to feel ought but shame,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;All through her heart, yet felt her cheek burned so,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;She must a little touch it; like one lame</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;She walked away from Gauwaine, with her head</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Still lifted up; and on her cheek of flame</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;The tears dried quick; she stopped at last and said:</span>
+<span class="i0">"O knights and lords, it seems but little skill</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;To talk of well-known things past now and dead.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"God wot I ought to say, I have done ill,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;And pray you all forgiveness heartily!</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Because you must be right such great lords&mdash;still</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Listen, suppose your time were come to die,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;And you were quite alone and very weak;</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Yea, laid a dying while very mightily</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"The wind was ruffling up the narrow streak</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Of river through your broad lands running well:</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Suppose a hush should come, then some one speak:</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"'One of these cloths is heaven, and one is hell,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Now choose one cloth for ever, which they be,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;I will not tell you, you must somehow tell</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"'Of your own strength and mightiness; here, see!'</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Yea, yea, my lord, and you to ope your eyes,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;At foot of your familiar bed to see</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"A great God's angel standing, with such dyes,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Not known on earth, on his great wings, and hands,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Held out two ways, light from the inner skies</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Showing him well, and making his commands</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Seem to be God's commands, moreover, too,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Holding within his hands the cloths on wands;</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"And one of these strange choosing cloths was blue,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Wavy and long, and one cut short and red;</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;No man could tell the better of the two.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"'After a shivering half-hour you said,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;'God help! heaven's colour, the blue;' and he said, 'hell.'</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Perhaps you then would roll upon your bed,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"And cry to all good men that loved you well,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;'Ah Christ! if only I had known, known, known;'</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Launcelot went away, then I could tell,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Like wisest man how all things would be, moan,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;And roll and hurt myself, and long to die,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;And yet fear much to die for what was sown.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Nevertheless you, O Sir Gauwaine, lie,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Whatever may have happened through these years,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;God knows I speak truth, saying that you lie."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Her voice was low at first, being full of tears,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;But as it cleared, it grew full loud and shrill,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Growing a windy shriek in all men's ears,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;A ringing in their startled brains, until</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;She said that Gauwaine lied, then her voice sunk,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;And her great eyes began again to fill,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Though still she stood right up, and never shrunk,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;But spoke on bravely, glorious lady fair!</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Whatever tears her full lips may have drunk,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;She stood, and seemed to think, and wrung her hair,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Spoke out at last with no more trace of shame,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;With passionate twisting of her body there:</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"It chanced upon a day Launcelot came</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;To dwell at Arthur's Court; at Christmas-time</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;This happened; when the heralds sung his name,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"'Son of King Ban of Benwick,' seemed to chime</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Along with all the bells that rang that day,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;O'er the white roofs, with little change of rhyme.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Christmas and whitened winter passed away,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;And over me the April sunshine came,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Made very awful with black hail-clouds, yea</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"And in the Summer I grew white with flame,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;And bowed my head down&mdash;Autumn, and the sick</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Sure knowledge things would never be the same,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"However often Spring might be most thick</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Of blossoms and buds, smote on me, and I grew</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Careless of most things, let the clock tick, tick,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"To my unhappy pulse, that beat right through</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;My eager body; while I laughed out loud,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;And let my lips curl up at false or true,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Seemed cold and shallow without any cloud.</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Behold my judges, then the cloths were brought:</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;While I was dizzied thus, old thoughts would crowd,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Belonging to the time ere I was bought</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;By Arthur's great name and his little love,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Must I give up for ever then, I thought,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"That which I deemed would ever round me move</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Glorifying all things; for a little word,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Scarce ever meant at all, must I now prove</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Stone-cold for ever? Pray you, does the Lord</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Will that all folks should be quite happy and good?</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;I love God now a little, if this cord</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Were broken, once for all what striving could</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Make me love anything in earth or heaven.</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;So day by day it grew, as if one should</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Slip slowly down some path worn smooth and even,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Down to a cool sea on a summer day;</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Yet still in slipping there was some small leaven</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Of stretched hands catching small stones by the way,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Until one surely reached the sea at last,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;And felt strange new joy as the worn head lay</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Back, with the hair like sea-weed; yea all past</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Sweat of the forehead, dryness of the lips,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Washed utterly out by the dear waves o'ercast,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"In the lone sea, far off from any ships!</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Do I not know now of a day in Spring?</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;No minute of that wild day ever slips</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"From out my memory; I hear thrushes sing,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;And wheresoever I may be, straightway</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Thoughts of it all come up with most fresh sting:</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"I was half mad with beauty on that day,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;And went without my ladies all alone,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;In a quiet garden walled round every way;</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"I was right joyful of that wall of stone,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;That shut the flowers and trees up with the sky,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;And trebled all the beauty: to the bone,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Yea right through to my heart, grown very shy</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;With weary thoughts, it pierced, and made me glad;</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Exceedingly glad, and I knew verily,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"A little thing just then had made me mad;</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;I dared not think, as I was wont to do,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Sometimes, upon my beauty; If I had</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Held out my long hand up against the blue,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;And, looking on the tenderly darken'd fingers,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Thought that by rights one ought to see quite through,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"There, see you, where the soft still light yet lingers,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Round by the edges; what should I have done,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;If this had joined with yellow spotted singers,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"And startling green drawn upward by the sun?</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;But shouting, loosed out, see now! all my hair,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;And trancedly stood watching the west wind run</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"With faintest half-heard breathing sound&mdash;why there</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;I lose my head e'en now in doing this;</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;But shortly listen&mdash;In that garden fair</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Came Launcelot walking; this is true, the kiss</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Wherewith we kissed in meeting that spring day,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;I scarce dare talk of the remember'd bliss,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"When both our mouths went wandering in one way,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;And aching sorely, met among the leaves;</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Our hands being left behind strained far away.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Never within a yard of my bright sleeves</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Had Launcelot come before&mdash;and now, so nigh!</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;After that day why is it Guenevere grieves?</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Nevertheless you, O Sir Gauwaine, lie,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Whatever happened on through all those years,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;God knows I speak truth, saying that you lie.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Being such a lady could I weep these tears</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;If this were true? A great queen such as I</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Having sinn'd this way, straight her conscience sears;</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"And afterwards she liveth hatefully,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Slaying and poisoning, certes never weeps,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Gauwaine be friends now, speak me lovingly.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Do I not see how God's dear pity creeps</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;All through your frame, and trembles in your mouth?</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Remember in what grave your mother sleeps,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Buried in some place far down in the south,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Men are forgetting as I speak to you;</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;By her head sever'd in that awful drouth</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Of pity that drew Agravaine's fell blow,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;I pray your pity! let me not scream out</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;For ever after, when the shrill winds blow</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Through half your castle-locks! let me not shout</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;For ever after in the winter night</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;When you ride out alone! in battle-rout</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Let not my rusting tears make your sword light!</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Ah! God of mercy how he turns away!</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;So, ever must I dress me to the fight,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"So&mdash;let God's justice work! Gauwaine, I say,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;See me hew down your proofs: yea all men know</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Even as you said how Mellyagraunce one day,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"One bitter day in <i>la Fausse Garde</i>, for so</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;All good knights held it after, saw&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Yea, sirs, by cursed unknightly outrage; though</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"You, Gauwaine, held his word without a flaw,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;This Mellyagraunce saw blood upon my bed&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Whose blood then pray you? is there any law</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"To make a queen say why some spots of red</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Lie on her coverlet? or will you say,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;'Your hands are white, lady, as when you wed,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"'Where did you bleed?' and must I stammer out&mdash;'Nay',</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;I blush indeed, fair lord, only to rend</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;My sleeve up to my shoulder, where there lay</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"'A knife-point last night:' so must I defend</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;The honour of the lady Guenevere?</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Not so, fair lords, even if the world should end</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"This very day, and you were judges here</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Instead of God. Did you see Mellyagraunce</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;When Launcelot stood by him? what white fear</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Curdled his blood, and how his teeth did dance,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;His side sink in? as my knight cried and said,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;'Slayer of unarm'd men, here is a chance!</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"'Setter of traps, I pray you guard your head,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;By God I am so glad to fight with you,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Stripper of ladies, that my hand feels lead</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"'For driving weight; hurrah now! draw and do,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;For all my wounds are moving in my breast,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;And I am getting mad with waiting so.'</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"He struck his hands together o'er the beast,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Who fell down flat, and grovell'd at his feet,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;And groan'd at being slain so young&mdash;'at least.'</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"My knight said, 'Rise you, sir, who are so fleet</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;At catching ladies, half-arm'd will I fight,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;My left side all uncover'd!' then I weet,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Up sprang Sir Mellyagraunce with great delight</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Upon his knave's face; not until just then</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Did I quite hate him, as I saw my knight</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Along the lists look to my stake and pen</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;With such a joyous smile, it made me sigh</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;From agony beneath my waist-chain, when</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"The fight began, and to me they drew nigh;</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Ever Sir Launcelot kept him on the right,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;And traversed warily, and ever high</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"And fast leapt caitiff's sword, until my knight</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Sudden threw up his sword to his left hand,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Caught it, and swung it; that was all the fight.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Except a spout of blood on the hot land;</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;For it was hottest summer; and I know</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;I wonder'd how the fire, while I should stand,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"And burn, against the heat, would quiver so,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Yards above my head; thus these matters went:</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Which things were only warnings of the woe</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"That fell on me. Yet Mellyagraunce was shent,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;For Mellyagraunce had fought against the Lord;</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Therefore, my lords, take heed lest you be blent</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"With all this wickedness; say no rash word</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Against me, being so beautiful; my eyes,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Wept all away the grey, may bring some sword</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"To drown you in your blood; see my breast rise,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Like waves of purple sea, as here I stand;</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;And how my arms are moved in wonderful wise,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Yea also at my full heart's strong command,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;See through my long throat how the words go up</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;In ripples to my mouth; how in my hand</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"The shadow lies like wine within a cup</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Of marvellously colour'd gold; yea now</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;This little wind is rising, look you up,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"And wonder how the light is falling so</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Within my moving tresses: will you dare</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;When you have looked a little on my brow,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"To say this thing is vile? or will you care</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;For any plausible lies of cunning woof,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;When you can see my face with no lie there</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"For ever? am I not a gracious proof&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;'But in your chamber Launcelot was found'&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Is there a good knight then would stand aloof,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"When a queen says with gentle queenly sound:</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;'O true as steel come now and talk with me,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;I love to see your step upon the ground</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"'Unwavering, also well I love to see</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;That gracious smile light up your face, and hear</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Your wonderful words, that all mean verily</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"'The thing they seem to mean: good friend, so dear</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;To me in everything, come here to-night,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Or else the hours will pass most dull and drear;</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"'If you come not, I fear this time I might</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Get thinking over much of times gone by,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;When I was young, and green hope was in sight:</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"'For no man cares now to know why I sigh;</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;And no man comes to sing me pleasant songs,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Nor any brings me the sweet flowers that lie</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"'So thick in the gardens; therefore one so longs</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;To see you, Launcelot; that we may be</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Like children once again, free from all wrongs</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"'Just for one night.' Did he not come to me?</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;What thing could keep true Launcelot away</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;If I said 'Come?' there was one less than three</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"In my quiet room that night, and we were gay;</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Till sudden I rose up, weak, pale, and sick,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Because a bawling broke our dream up, yea</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"I looked at Launcelot's face and could not speak,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;For he looked helpless too, for a little while;</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Then I remember how I tried to shriek,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"And could not, but fell down; from tile to tile</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;The stones they threw up rattled o'er my head</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;And made me dizzier; till within a while</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"My maids were all about me, and my head</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;On Launcelot's breast was being soothed away</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;From its white chattering, until Launcelot said&mdash;</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"By God! I will not tell you more to-day,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Judge any way you will&mdash;what matters it?</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;You know quite well the story of that fray,</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"How Launcelot still'd their bawling, the mad fit</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;That caught up Gauwaine&mdash;all, all, verily,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;But just that which would save me; these things flit.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Nevertheless you, O Sir Gauwaine, lie,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Whatever may have happen'd these long years,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;God knows I speak truth, saying that you lie!</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"All I have said is truth, by Christ's dear tears."</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;She would not speak another word, but stood</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Turn'd sideways; listening, like a man who hears</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;His brother's trumpet sounding through the wood</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Of his foe's lances. She lean'd eagerly,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;And gave a slight spring sometimes, as she could</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;At last hear something really; joyfully</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Her cheek grew crimson, as the headlong speed</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;Of the roan charger drew all men to see,</span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;The knight who came was Launcelot at good need.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+<h2><a name="A_GOOD_KNIGHT_IN_PRISON" id="A_GOOD_KNIGHT_IN_PRISON"></a>A GOOD KNIGHT IN PRISON.</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Sir Guy</span>, <i>being in the court of a Pagan castle</i>.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This castle where I dwell, it stands</span>
+<span class="i0">A long way off from Christian lands,</span>
+<span class="i0">A long way off my lady's hands,</span>
+<span class="i0">A long way off the aspen trees,</span>
+<span class="i0">And murmur of the lime-tree bees.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">But down the Valley of the Rose</span>
+<span class="i0">My lady often hawking goes,</span>
+<span class="i0">Heavy of cheer; oft turns behind,</span>
+<span class="i0">Leaning towards the western wind,</span>
+<span class="i0">Because it bringeth to her mind</span>
+<span class="i0">Sad whisperings of happy times,</span>
+<span class="i0">The face of him who sings these rhymes.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">King Guilbert rides beside her there,</span>
+<span class="i0">Bends low and calls her very fair,</span>
+<span class="i0">And strives, by pulling down his hair,</span>
+<span class="i0">To hide from my dear lady's ken</span>
+<span class="i0">The grisly gash I gave him, when</span>
+<span class="i0">I cut him down at Camelot;</span>
+<span class="i0">However he strives, he hides it not,</span>
+<span class="i0">That tourney will not be forgot,</span>
+<span class="i0">Besides, it is King Guilbert's lot,</span>
+<span class="i0">Whatever he says she answers not.</span>
+<span class="i0">Now tell me, you that are in love,</span>
+<span class="i0">From the king's son to the wood-dove,</span>
+<span class="i0">Which is the better, he or I?</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">For this king means that I should die</span>
+<span class="i0">In this lone Pagan castle, where</span>
+<span class="i0">The flowers droop in the bad air</span>
+<span class="i0">On the September evening.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Look, now I take mine ease and sing,</span>
+<span class="i0">Counting as but a little thing</span>
+<span class="i0">The foolish spite of a bad king.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">For these vile things that hem me in,</span>
+<span class="i0">These Pagan beasts who live in sin,</span>
+<span class="i0">The sickly flowers pale and wan,</span>
+<span class="i0">The grim blue-bearded castellan,</span>
+<span class="i0">The stanchions half worn-out with rust,</span>
+<span class="i0">Whereto their banner vile they trust&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">Why, all these things I hold them just</span>
+<span class="i0">Like dragons in a missal book,</span>
+<span class="i0">Wherein, whenever we may look,</span>
+<span class="i0">We see no horror, yea, delight</span>
+<span class="i0">We have, the colours are so bright;</span>
+<span class="i0">Likewise we note the specks of white,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the great plates of burnish'd gold.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Just so this Pagan castle old,</span>
+<span class="i0">And everything I can see there,</span>
+<span class="i0">Sick-pining in the marshland air,</span>
+<span class="i0">I note; I will go over now,</span>
+<span class="i0">Like one who paints with knitted brow,</span>
+<span class="i0">The flowers and all things one by one,</span>
+<span class="i0">From the snail on the wall to the setting sun.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Four great walls, and a little one</span>
+<span class="i0">That leads down to the barbican,</span>
+<span class="i0">Which walls with many spears they man,</span>
+<span class="i0">When news comes to the castellan</span>
+<span class="i0">Of Launcelot being in the land.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">And as I sit here, close at hand</span>
+<span class="i0">Four spikes of sad sick sunflowers stand,</span>
+<span class="i0">The castellan with a long wand</span>
+<span class="i0">Cuts down their leaves as he goes by,</span>
+<span class="i0">Ponderingly, with screw'd-up eye,</span>
+<span class="i0">And fingers twisted in his beard&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, was it a knight's shout I heard?</span>
+<span class="i0">I have a hope makes me afeard:</span>
+<span class="i0">It cannot be, but if some dream</span>
+<span class="i0">Just for a minute made me deem</span>
+<span class="i0">I saw among the flowers there</span>
+<span class="i0">My lady's face with long red hair,</span>
+<span class="i0">Pale, ivory-colour'd dear face come,</span>
+<span class="i0">As I was wont to see her some</span>
+<span class="i0">Fading September afternoon,</span>
+<span class="i0">And kiss me, saying nothing, soon</span>
+<span class="i0">To leave me by myself again;</span>
+<span class="i2">Could I get this by longing: vain!</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">The castellan is gone: I see</span>
+<span class="i0">On one broad yellow flower a bee</span>
+<span class="i0">Drunk with much honey&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i8">Christ! again,</span>
+<span class="i0">Some distant knight's voice brings me pain,</span>
+<span class="i0">I thought I had forgot to feel,</span>
+<span class="i0">I never heard the blissful steel</span>
+<span class="i0">These ten years past; year after year,</span>
+<span class="i0">Through all my hopeless sojourn here,</span>
+<span class="i0">No Christian pennon has been near;</span>
+<span class="i0">Laus Deo! the dragging wind draws on</span>
+<span class="i0">Over the marches, battle won,</span>
+<span class="i0">Knights' shouts, and axes hammering,</span>
+<span class="i0">Yea, quicker now the dint and ring</span>
+<span class="i0">Of flying hoofs; ah, castellan,</span>
+<span class="i0">When they come back count man for man,</span>
+<span class="i0">Say whom you miss.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4>The <span class="smcap">Pagans</span>, <i>from the battlements</i>.</h4>
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">Mahmoud to aid!</span>
+<span class="i0">Why flee ye so like men dismay'd?</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4>The <span class="smcap">Pagans</span>, <i>from without</i>.</h4>
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nay, haste! for here is Launcelot,</span>
+<span class="i0">Who follows quick upon us, hot</span>
+<span class="i0">And shouting with his men-at-arms.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Sir Guy.</span></h4>
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Also the Pagans raise alarms,</span>
+<span class="i0">And ring the bells for fear; at last</span>
+<span class="i0">My prison walls will be well past.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Sir Launcelot</span>, <i>from outside</i>.</h4>
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ho! in the name of the Trinity,</span>
+<span class="i0">Let down the drawbridge quick to me,</span>
+<span class="i0">And open doors, that I may see</span>
+<span class="i0">Guy the good knight.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">The Pagans</span>, <i>from the battlements</i>.</h4>
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">Nay, Launcelot,</span>
+<span class="i0">With mere big words ye win us not.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Sir Launcelot.</span></h4>
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Bid Miles bring up la perriere,</span>
+<span class="i0">And archers clear the vile walls there,</span>
+<span class="i0">Bring back the notches to the ear,</span>
+<span class="i0">Shoot well together! God to aid!</span>
+<span class="i0">These miscreants shall be well paid.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Hurrah! all goes together; Miles</span>
+<span class="i0">Is good to win my lady's smiles</span>
+<span class="i0">For his good shooting&mdash;Launcelot!</span>
+<span class="i0">On knights a-pace! this game is hot!</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Sir Guy</span> <i>sayeth afterwards</i>.</h4>
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I said, I go to meet her now,</span>
+<span class="i0">And saying so, I felt a blow</span>
+<span class="i0">From some clench'd hand across my brow,</span>
+<span class="i0">And fell down on the sunflowers</span>
+<span class="i0">Just as a hammering smote my ears,</span>
+<span class="i0">After which this I felt in sooth;</span>
+<span class="i0">My bare hands throttling without ruth</span>
+<span class="i0">The hairy-throated castellan;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then a grim fight with those that ran</span>
+<span class="i0">To slay me, while I shouted, "God</span>
+<span class="i0">For the Lady Mary!" deep I trod</span>
+<span class="i0">That evening in my own red blood;</span>
+<span class="i0">Nevertheless so stiff I stood,</span>
+<span class="i0">That when the knights burst the old wood</span>
+<span class="i0">Of the castle-doors, I was not dead.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">I kiss the Lady Mary's head,</span>
+<span class="i0">Her lips, and her hair golden red,</span>
+<span class="i0">Because to-day we have been wed.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+<h2><a name="SHAMEFUL_DEATH" id="SHAMEFUL_DEATH"></a>SHAMEFUL DEATH.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There were four of us about that bed;</span>
+<span class="i2">The mass-priest knelt at the side,</span>
+<span class="i0">I and his mother stood at the head,</span>
+<span class="i2">Over his feet lay the bride;</span>
+<span class="i0">We were quite sure that he was dead,</span>
+<span class="i2">Though his eyes were open wide.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">He did not die in the night,</span>
+<span class="i2">He did not die in the day,</span>
+<span class="i0">But in the morning twilight</span>
+<span class="i2">His spirit pass'd away,</span>
+<span class="i0">When neither sun nor moon was bright,</span>
+<span class="i2">And the trees were merely grey.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">He was not slain with the sword,</span>
+<span class="i2">Knight's axe, or the knightly spear,</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet spoke he never a word</span>
+<span class="i2">After he came in here;</span>
+<span class="i0">I cut away the cord</span>
+<span class="i2">From the neck of my brother dear.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">He did not strike one blow,</span>
+<span class="i2">For the recreants came behind,</span>
+<span class="i0">In a place where the hornbeams grow,</span>
+<span class="i2">A path right hard to find,</span>
+<span class="i0">For the hornbeam boughs swing so,</span>
+<span class="i2">That the twilight makes it blind.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">They lighted a great torch then,</span>
+<span class="i2">When his arms were pinion'd fast,</span>
+<span class="i0">Sir John the knight of the Fen,</span>
+<span class="i2">Sir Guy of the Dolorous Blast,</span>
+<span class="i0">With knights threescore and ten,</span>
+<span class="i2">Hung brave Lord Hugh at last.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">I am threescore and ten,</span>
+<span class="i2">And my hair is all turn'd grey,</span>
+<span class="i0">But I met Sir John of the Fen</span>
+<span class="i2">Long ago on a summer day,</span>
+<span class="i0">And am glad to think of the moment when</span>
+<span class="i2">I took his life away.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">I am threescore and ten,</span>
+<span class="i2">And my strength is mostly pass'd,</span>
+<span class="i0">But long ago I and my men,</span>
+<span class="i2">When the sky was overcast,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the smoke roll'd over the reeds of the fen,</span>
+<span class="i2">Slew Guy of the Dolorous Blast.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">And now, knights all of you,</span>
+<span class="i2">I pray you pray for Sir Hugh,</span>
+<span class="i0">A good knight and a true,</span>
+<span class="i2">And for Alice, his wife, pray too.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+<h2><a name="THE_EVE_OF_CRECY" id="THE_EVE_OF_CRECY"></a>THE EVE OF CRECY.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Gold on her head, and gold on her feet,</span>
+<span class="i0">And gold where the hems of her kirtle meet,</span>
+<span class="i0">And a golden girdle round my sweet;&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i2"><i>Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.</i></span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Margaret's maids are fair to see,</span>
+<span class="i0">Freshly dress'd and pleasantly;</span>
+<span class="i0">Margaret's hair falls down to her knee;&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i2"><i>Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.</i></span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">If I were rich I would kiss her feet,</span>
+<span class="i0">I would kiss the place where the gold hems meet,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the golden girdle round my sweet&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i2"><i>Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.</i></span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Ah me! I have never touch'd her hand;</span>
+<span class="i0">When the arriere-ban goes through the land,</span>
+<span class="i0">Six basnets under my pennon stand;&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i2"><i>Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.</i></span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">And many an one grins under his hood:</span>
+<span class="i0">"Sir Lambert de Bois, with all his men good,</span>
+<span class="i0">Has neither food nor firewood;"&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i2"><i>Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.</i></span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">If I were rich I would kiss her feet,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the golden girdle of my sweet,</span>
+<span class="i0">And thereabouts where the gold hems meet;&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i2"><i>Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.</i></span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Yet even now it is good to think,</span>
+<span class="i0">While my few poor varlets grumble and drink</span>
+<span class="i0">In my desolate hall where the fires sink;&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i2"><i>Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.</i></span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Of Margaret sitting glorious there,</span>
+<span class="i0">In glory of gold and glory of hair,</span>
+<span class="i0">And glory of glorious face most fair;&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i2"><i>Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.</i></span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Likewise to-night I make good cheer,</span>
+<span class="i0">Because this battle draweth near:</span>
+<span class="i0">For what have I to lose or fear?&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i2"><i>Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.</i></span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">For, look you, my horse is good to prance</span>
+<span class="i0">A right fair measure in this war-dance,</span>
+<span class="i0">Before the eyes of Philip of France;&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i2"><i>Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.</i></span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">And sometime it may hap, perdie,</span>
+<span class="i0">While my new towers stand up three and three,</span>
+<span class="i0">And my hall gets painted fair to see&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i2"><i>Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.</i>&mdash;</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">That folks may say: "Times change, by the rood,</span>
+<span class="i0">For Lambert, banneret of the wood,</span>
+<span class="i0">Has heaps of food and firewood;&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i2"><i>Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite;</i>&mdash;</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"And wonderful eyes, too, under the hood</span>
+<span class="i0">Of a damsel of right noble blood:"</span>
+<span class="i0">St. Ives, for Lambert of the wood!&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i2"><i>Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.</i></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+<h2><a name="THE_HAYSTACK_IN_THE_FLOODS" id="THE_HAYSTACK_IN_THE_FLOODS"></a>THE HAYSTACK IN THE FLOODS.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Had she come all the way for this,</span>
+<span class="i0">To part at last without a kiss?</span>
+<span class="i0">Yea, had she borne the dirt and rain</span>
+<span class="i0">That her own eyes might see him slain</span>
+<span class="i0">Beside the haystack in the floods?</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Along the dripping leafless woods,</span>
+<span class="i0">The stirrup touching either shoe,</span>
+<span class="i0">She rode astride as troopers do;</span>
+<span class="i0">With kirtle kilted to her knee,</span>
+<span class="i0">To which the mud splash'd wretchedly;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the wet dripp'd from every tree</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon her head and heavy hair,</span>
+<span class="i0">And on her eyelids broad and fair;</span>
+<span class="i0">The tears and rain ran down her face.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">By fits and starts they rode apace,</span>
+<span class="i0">And very often was his place</span>
+<span class="i0">Far off from her; he had to ride</span>
+<span class="i0">Ahead, to see what might betide</span>
+<span class="i0">When the road cross'd; and sometimes, when</span>
+<span class="i0">There rose a murmuring from his men,</span>
+<span class="i0">Had to turn back with promises;</span>
+<span class="i0">Ah me! she had but little ease;</span>
+<span class="i0">And often for pure doubt and dread</span>
+<span class="i0">She sobb'd, made giddy in the head</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">By the swift riding; while, for cold,</span>
+<span class="i0">Her slender fingers scarce could hold</span>
+<span class="i0">The wet reins; yea, and scarcely, too,</span>
+<span class="i0">She felt the foot within her shoe</span>
+<span class="i0">Against the stirrup: all for this,</span>
+<span class="i0">To part at last without a kiss</span>
+<span class="i0">Beside the haystack in the floods.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">For when they near'd that old soak'd hay,</span>
+<span class="i0">They saw across the only way</span>
+<span class="i0">That Judas, Godmar, and the three</span>
+<span class="i0">Red running lions dismally</span>
+<span class="i0">Grinn'd from his pennon, under which</span>
+<span class="i0">In one straight line along the ditch,</span>
+<span class="i0">They counted thirty heads.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i8">So then,</span>
+<span class="i0">While Robert turn'd round to his men,</span>
+<span class="i0">She saw at once the wretched end,</span>
+<span class="i0">And, stooping down, tried hard to rend</span>
+<span class="i0">Her coif the wrong way from her head,</span>
+<span class="i0">And hid her eyes; while Robert said:</span>
+<span class="i0">"Nay, love, 'tis scarcely two to one,</span>
+<span class="i0">At Poictiers where we made them run</span>
+<span class="i0">So fast&mdash;why, sweet my love, good cheer,</span>
+<span class="i0">The Gascon frontier is so near,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nought after this."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i8">But, "O," she said,</span>
+<span class="i0">"My God! my God! I have to tread</span>
+<span class="i0">The long way back without you; then</span>
+<span class="i0">The court at Paris; those six men;</span>
+<span class="i0">The gratings of the Chatelet;</span>
+<span class="i0">The swift Seine on some rainy day</span>
+<span class="i0">Like this, and people standing by,</span>
+<span class="i0">And laughing, while my weak hands try</span>
+<span class="i0">To recollect how strong men swim.</span>
+<span class="i0">All this, or else a life with him,</span>
+<span class="i0">For which I should be damned at last,</span>
+<span class="i0">Would God that this next hour were past!"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">He answer'd not, but cried his cry,</span>
+<span class="i0">"St. George for Marny!" cheerily;</span>
+<span class="i0">And laid his hand upon her rein.</span>
+<span class="i0">Alas! no man of all his train</span>
+<span class="i0">Gave back that cheery cry again;</span>
+<span class="i0">And, while for rage his thumb beat fast</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon his sword-hilt, some one cast</span>
+<span class="i0">About his neck a kerchief long,</span>
+<span class="i0">And bound him.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i8">Then they went along</span>
+<span class="i0">To Godmar; who said: "Now, Jehane,</span>
+<span class="i0">Your lover's life is on the wane</span>
+<span class="i0">So fast, that, if this very hour</span>
+<span class="i0">You yield not as my paramour,</span>
+<span class="i0">He will not see the rain leave off&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, keep your tongue from gibe and scoff,</span>
+<span class="i0">Sir Robert, or I slay you now."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">She laid her hand upon her brow,</span>
+<span class="i0">Then gazed upon the palm, as though</span>
+<span class="i0">She thought her forehead bled, and&mdash;"No,"</span>
+<span class="i0">She said, and turn'd her head away,</span>
+<span class="i0">As there were nothing else to say,</span>
+<span class="i0">And everything were settled: red</span>
+<span class="i0">Grew Godmar's face from chin to head:</span>
+<span class="i0">"Jehane, on yonder hill there stands</span>
+<span class="i0">My castle, guarding well my lands:</span>
+<span class="i0">What hinders me from taking you,</span>
+<span class="i0">And doing that I list to do</span>
+<span class="i0">To your fair wilful body, while</span>
+<span class="i0">Your knight lies dead?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i8">A wicked smile</span>
+<span class="i0">Wrinkled her face, her lips grew thin,</span>
+<span class="i0">A long way out she thrust her chin:</span>
+<span class="i0">"You know that I should strangle you</span>
+<span class="i0">While you were sleeping; or bite through</span>
+<span class="i0">Your throat, by God's help&mdash;ah!" she said,</span>
+<span class="i0">"Lord Jesus, pity your poor maid!</span>
+<span class="i0">For in such wise they hem me in,</span>
+<span class="i0">I cannot choose but sin and sin,</span>
+<span class="i0">Whatever happens: yet I think</span>
+<span class="i0">They could not make me eat or drink,</span>
+<span class="i0">And so should I just reach my rest."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Nay, if you do not my behest,</span>
+<span class="i0">O Jehane! though I love you well,"</span>
+<span class="i0">Said Godmar, "would I fail to tell</span>
+<span class="i0">All that I know." "Foul lies," she said.</span>
+<span class="i0">"Eh? lies, my Jehane? by God's head,</span>
+<span class="i0">At Paris folks would deem them true!</span>
+<span class="i0">Do you know, Jehane, they cry for you,</span>
+<span class="i0">'Jehane the brown! Jehane the brown!</span>
+<span class="i0">Give us Jehane to burn or drown!'&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">Eh&mdash;gag me, Robert!&mdash;sweet my friend,</span>
+<span class="i0">This were indeed a piteous end</span>
+<span class="i0">For those long fingers, and long feet,</span>
+<span class="i0">And long neck, and smooth shoulders sweet;</span>
+<span class="i0">An end that few men would forget</span>
+<span class="i0">That saw it&mdash;So, an hour yet:</span>
+<span class="i0">Consider, Jehane, which to take</span>
+<span class="i0">Of life or death!"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i8">So, scarce awake</span>
+<span class="i0">Dismounting, did she leave that place,</span>
+<span class="i0">And totter some yards: with her face</span>
+<span class="i0">Turn'd upward to the sky she lay,</span>
+<span class="i0">Her head on a wet heap of hay,</span>
+<span class="i0">And fell asleep: and while she slept,</span>
+<span class="i0">And did not dream, the minutes crept</span>
+<span class="i0">Round to the twelve again; but she,</span>
+<span class="i0">Being waked at last, sigh'd quietly,</span>
+<span class="i0">And strangely childlike came, and said:</span>
+<span class="i0">"I will not." Straightway Godmar's head,</span>
+<span class="i0">As though it hung on strong wires, turn'd</span>
+<span class="i0">Most sharply round, and his face burn'd.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">For Robert&mdash;both his eyes were dry,</span>
+<span class="i0">He could not weep but gloomily</span>
+<span class="i0">He seem'd to watch the rain; yea, too,</span>
+<span class="i0">His lips were firm; he tried once more</span>
+<span class="i0">To touch her lips; she reach'd out, sore</span>
+<span class="i0">And vain desire so tortured them,</span>
+<span class="i0">The poor grey lips, and now the hem</span>
+<span class="i0">Of his sleeve brush'd them.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i8">With a start</span>
+<span class="i0">Up Godmar rose, thrust them apart;</span>
+<span class="i0">From Robert's throat he loosed the bands</span>
+<span class="i0">Of silk and mail; with empty hands</span>
+<span class="i0">Held out, she stood and gazed, and saw,</span>
+<span class="i0">The long bright blade without a flaw</span>
+<span class="i0">Glide out from Godmar's sheath, his hand</span>
+<span class="i0">In Robert's hair; she saw him bend</span>
+<span class="i0">Back Robert's head; she saw him send</span>
+<span class="i0">The thin steel down; the blow told well,</span>
+<span class="i0">Right backward the knight Robert fell,</span>
+<span class="i0">And moan'd as dogs do, being half dead,</span>
+<span class="i0">Unwitting, as I deem: so then</span>
+<span class="i0">Godmar turn'd grinning to his men,</span>
+<span class="i0">Who ran, some five or six, and beat</span>
+<span class="i0">His head to pieces at their feet.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then Godmar turn'd again and said:</span>
+<span class="i0">"So, Jehane, the first fitte is read!</span>
+<span class="i0">Take note, my lady, that your way</span>
+<span class="i0">Lies backward to the Chatelet!"</span>
+<span class="i0">She shook her head and gazed awhile</span>
+<span class="i0">At her cold hands with a rueful smile,</span>
+<span class="i0">As though this thing had made her mad.</span>
+<span class="i0">This was the parting that they had</span>
+<span class="i0">Beside the haystack in the floods.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+<h2><a name="RIDING_TOGETHER" id="RIDING_TOGETHER"></a>RIDING TOGETHER.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For many, many days together</span>
+<span class="i2">The wind blew steady from the East;</span>
+<span class="i0">For many days hot grew the weather,</span>
+<span class="i2">About the time of our Lady's Feast.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">For many days we rode together,</span>
+<span class="i2">Yet met we neither friend nor foe;</span>
+<span class="i0">Hotter and clearer grew the weather,</span>
+<span class="i2">Steadily did the East wind blow.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">We saw the trees in the hot, bright weather,</span>
+<span class="i2">Clear-cut, with shadows very black,</span>
+<span class="i0">As freely we rode on together</span>
+<span class="i2">With helms unlaced and bridles slack.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">And often as we rode together,</span>
+<span class="i2">We, looking down the green-bank'd stream,</span>
+<span class="i0">Saw flowers in the sunny weather,</span>
+<span class="i2">And saw the bubble-making bream.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">And in the night lay down together,</span>
+<span class="i2">And hung above our heads the rood,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or watch'd night-long in the dewy weather,</span>
+<span class="i2">The while the moon did watch the wood.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Our spears stood bright and thick together,</span>
+<span class="i2">Straight out the banners stream'd behind,</span>
+<span class="i0">As we gallop'd on in the sunny weather,</span>
+<span class="i2">With faces turn'd towards the wind.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Down sank our threescore spears together,</span>
+<span class="i2">As thick we saw the Pagans ride;</span>
+<span class="i0">His eager face in the clear fresh weather,</span>
+<span class="i2">Shone out that last time by my side.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Up the sweep of the bridge we dash'd together,</span>
+<span class="i2">It rock'd to the crash of the meeting spears,</span>
+<span class="i0">Down rain'd the buds of the dear spring weather,</span>
+<span class="i2">The elm-tree flowers fell like tears.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">There, as we roll'd and writhed together,</span>
+<span class="i2">I threw my arms above my head,</span>
+<span class="i0">For close by my side, in the lovely weather,</span>
+<span class="i2">I saw him reel and fall back dead.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">I and the slayer met together,</span>
+<span class="i2">He waited the death-stroke there in his place,</span>
+<span class="i0">With thoughts of death, in the lovely weather,</span>
+<span class="i2">Gapingly mazed at my madden'd face.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Madly I fought as we fought together;</span>
+<span class="i2">In vain: the little Christian band</span>
+<span class="i0">The pagans drowned, as in stormy weather,</span>
+<span class="i2">The river drowns low-lying land.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">They bound my blood-stain'd hands together,</span>
+<span class="i2">They bound his corpse to nod by my side:</span>
+<span class="i0">Then on we rode, in the bright-March weather,</span>
+<span class="i2">With clash of cymbals did we ride.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">We ride no more, no more together;</span>
+<span class="i2">My prison-bars are thick and strong,</span>
+<span class="i0">I take no heed of any weather,</span>
+<span class="i2">The sweet Saints grant I live not long.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+<h2><a name="SUMMER_DAWN" id="SUMMER_DAWN"></a>SUMMER DAWN.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Pray but one prayer for me 'twixt thy closed lips,</span>
+<span class="i2">Think but one thought of me up in the stars.</span>
+<span class="i0">The summer night waneth, the morning light slips,</span>
+<span class="i2">Faint and grey 'twixt the leaves of the aspen, betwixt the cloud-bars,</span>
+<span class="i0">That are patiently waiting there for the dawn:</span>
+<span class="i2">Patient and colourless, though Heaven's gold</span>
+<span class="i0">Waits to float through them along with the sun.</span>
+<span class="i0">Far out in the meadows, above the young corn,</span>
+<span class="i2">The heavy elms wait, and restless and cold</span>
+<span class="i0">The uneasy wind rises; the roses are dun;</span>
+<span class="i0">Through the long twilight they pray for the dawn,</span>
+<span class="i0">Round the lone house in the midst of the corn.</span>
+<span class="i2">Speak but one word to me over the corn,</span>
+<span class="i2">Over the tender, bow'd locks of the corn.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+<h3>FROM</h3>
+<h2>"THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON."</h2>
+<br />
+<h3>BOOK XIV.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="THE_SIRENS" id="THE_SIRENS"></a>The Sirens&mdash;The Garden of the Hesperides
+&mdash;The Heroes do Sacrifice at Malea.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Across the open sea they drew their wake</span>
+<span class="i0">For three long days, and when the fourth 'gan break</span>
+<span class="i0">Their eyes beheld the fair Trinacrian shore,</span>
+<span class="i0">And there-along they coasted two days more.</span>
+<span class="i0">Then first Medea warned them to take heed,</span>
+<span class="i0">Lest they should end all memory of their deed</span>
+<span class="i0">Where dwell the Sirens on the yellow sand,</span>
+<span class="i0">And folk should think some tangled poisonous land</span>
+<span class="i0">Had buried them, or some tumultuous sea</span>
+<span class="i0">O'er their white bones was tossing angrily;</span>
+<span class="i0">Or that some muddy river, far from Greece,</span>
+<span class="i0">Drove seaward o'er the ringlets of the Fleece.</span>
+<span class="i2">But when the Miny&aelig; hearkened to this word,</span>
+<span class="i0">With many a thought their wearied hearts were stirred,</span>
+<span class="i0">And longing for the near-gained Grecian land,</span>
+<span class="i0">Where in a little while their feet should stand;</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet none the less like to a happy dream,</span>
+<span class="i0">Now, when they neared it, did their own home seem,</span>
+<span class="i0">And like a dream the glory of their quest,</span>
+<span class="i0">And therewithal some thought of present rest</span>
+<span class="i0">Stole over them, and they were fain to sigh,</span>
+<span class="i0">Hearkening the sighing restless wind go by.</span>
+<span class="i2">But hard on even of the second day,</span>
+<span class="i0">As o'er the gentle waves they took their way,</span>
+<span class="i0">The orange-scented land-breeze seemed to bear</span>
+<span class="i0">Some other sounds unto the listening ear</span>
+<span class="i0">Than all day long they had been hearkening,</span>
+<span class="i0">The land-born signs of many a well-known thing.</span>
+<span class="i0">Thereat Medea trembled, for she knew</span>
+<span class="i0">That nigh the dreadful sands at last they drew,</span>
+<span class="i0">For certainly the Sirens' song she heard,</span>
+<span class="i0">Though yet her ear could shape it to no word,</span>
+<span class="i0">And by their faces could the queen behold</span>
+<span class="i0">How sweet it was, although no tale it told,</span>
+<span class="i0">To those worn toilers o'er the bitter sea.</span>
+<span class="i2">Now, as they sped along, they presently,</span>
+<span class="i0">Rounding a headland, reached a little bay</span>
+<span class="i0">Walled from the sea by splintered cliffs and grey,</span>
+<span class="i0">Capped by the thymy hills' green wind-beat head,</span>
+<span class="i0">Where 'mid the whin the burrowing rabbits fed.</span>
+<span class="i0">And 'neath the cliff they saw a belt of sand,</span>
+<span class="i0">'Twixt Nereus' pasture and the high scarped land,</span>
+<span class="i0">Whereon, yet far off, could their eyes behold</span>
+<span class="i0">White bodies moving, crowned and girt with gold,</span>
+<span class="i0">Wherefrom it seemed that lovely music welled.</span>
+<span class="i2">So when all this the grey-eyed queen beheld,</span>
+<span class="i0">She said: "O Jason, I have made thee wise</span>
+<span class="i0">In this and other things; turn then thine eyes</span>
+<span class="i0">Seaward, and note the ripple of the sea,</span>
+<span class="i0">Where there is hope as well as fear for thee.</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor look upon the death that lurketh there</span>
+<span class="i0">'Neath the grey cliff, though sweet it seems and fair;</span>
+<span class="i0">For thou art young upon this day to die.</span>
+<span class="i0">Take then the helm, and gazing steadily</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the road to Greece, make strong thine hand,</span>
+<span class="i0">And steer us toward the lion-haunted land,</span>
+<span class="i0">And thou, O Thracian! if thou e'er hast moved</span>
+<span class="i0">Men's hearts with stories of the Gods who loved,</span>
+<span class="i0">And men who suffered, move them on this day,</span>
+<span class="i0">Taking the deadly love of death away,</span>
+<span class="i0">That even now is stealing over them,</span>
+<span class="i0">While still they gaze upon the ocean's hem,</span>
+<span class="i0">Where their undoing is if they but knew."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">But while she spake, still nigher Argo drew</span>
+<span class="i0">Unto the yellow edges of the shore,</span>
+<span class="i0">And little help she had of ashen oar,</span>
+<span class="i0">For as her shielded side rolled through the sea,</span>
+<span class="i0">Silent with glittering eyes the Miny&aelig;</span>
+<span class="i0">Gazed o'er the surge, for they were nigh enow</span>
+<span class="i0">To see the gusty wind of evening blow</span>
+<span class="i0">Long locks of hair across those bodies white,</span>
+<span class="i0">With golden spray hiding some dear delight;</span>
+<span class="i0">Yea, nigh enow to see their red lips smile,</span>
+<span class="i0">Wherefrom all song had ceased now for a while,</span>
+<span class="i0">As though they deemed the prey was in the net,</span>
+<span class="i0">And they no more had need a bait to set,</span>
+<span class="i0">But their own bodies, fair beyond man's thought,</span>
+<span class="i0">Under the grey cliff, hidden not of aught</span>
+<span class="i0">But of such mist of tears as in the eyes</span>
+<span class="i0">Of those seafaring men might chance to rise.</span>
+<span class="i2">A moment Jason gazed, then through the waist</span>
+<span class="i0">Ran swiftly, and with trembling hands made haste</span>
+<span class="i0">To trim the sail, then to the tiller ran,</span>
+<span class="i0">And thrust aside the skilled Milesian man,</span>
+<span class="i0">Who with half-open mouth, and dreamy eyes,</span>
+<span class="i0">Stood steering Argo to that land of lies;</span>
+<span class="i0">But as he staggered forward, Jason's hand</span>
+<span class="i0">Hard on the tiller steered away from land,</span>
+<span class="i0">And as her head a little now fell off</span>
+<span class="i0">Unto the wide sea, did he shout this scoff</span>
+<span class="i0">To Thracian Orpheus: "Minstrel, shall we die,</span>
+<span class="i0">Because thou hast forgotten utterly</span>
+<span class="i0">What things she taught thee whom men call divine?</span>
+<span class="i0">Or will thy measures but lead folk to wine,</span>
+<span class="i0">And scented beds, and not to noble deeds?</span>
+<span class="i0">Or will they fail as fail the shepherd's reeds</span>
+<span class="i0">Before the trumpet, when these sea-witches</span>
+<span class="i0">Pipe shrilly to the washing of the seas?</span>
+<span class="i0">I am a man, and these but beasts, but thou</span>
+<span class="i0">Giving these souls, that all were men ere now,</span>
+<span class="i0">Shalt be a very God and not a man!"</span>
+<span class="i2">So spake he; but his fingers Orpheus ran</span>
+<span class="i0">Over the strings, and sighing turned away</span>
+<span class="i0">From that fair ending of the sunny bay;</span>
+<span class="i0">But as his well-skilled hands were preluding</span>
+<span class="i0">What his heart swelled with, they began to sing</span>
+<span class="i0">With pleading voices from the yellow sands,</span>
+<span class="i0">Clustered together, with appealing hands</span>
+<span class="i0">Reached out to Argo as the great sail drew,</span>
+<span class="i0">While o'er their white limbs sharp the spray-shower flew,</span>
+<span class="i0">Since they spared not to set white feet among</span>
+<span class="i0">The cold waves heedless of their honied song.</span>
+<span class="i2">Sweetly they sang, and still the answer came</span>
+<span class="i0">Piercing and clear from him, as bursts the flame</span>
+<span class="i0">From out the furnace in the moonless night;</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet, as their words are no more known aright</span>
+<span class="i0">Through lapse of many ages, and no man</span>
+<span class="i0">Can any more across the waters wan</span>
+<span class="i0">Behold those singing women of the sea,</span>
+<span class="i0">Once more I pray you all to pardon me,</span>
+<span class="i0">If with my feeble voice and harsh I sing</span>
+<span class="i0">From what dim memories yet may chance to cling</span>
+<span class="i0">About men's hearts, of lovely things once sung</span>
+<span class="i0">Beside the sea, while yet the world was young.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">The Sirens.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O happy seafarers are ye,</span>
+<span class="i2">And surely all your ills are past,</span>
+<span class="i0">And toil upon the land and sea,</span>
+<span class="i2">Since ye are brought to us at last.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">To you the fashion of the world,</span>
+<span class="i2">Wide lands laid waste, fair cities burned,</span>
+<span class="i0">And plagues, and kings from kingdoms hurled,</span>
+<span class="i2">Are nought, since hither ye have turned.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">For as upon this beach we stand,</span>
+<span class="i2">And o'er our heads the sea-fowl flit,</span>
+<span class="i0">Our eyes behold a glorious land,</span>
+<span class="i2">And soon shall ye be kings of it.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Orpheus.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A little more, a little more,</span>
+<span class="i2">O carriers of the Golden Fleece,</span>
+<span class="i0">A little labour with the oar,</span>
+<span class="i2">Before we reach the land of Greece.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">E'en now perchance faint rumours reach</span>
+<span class="i2">Men's ears of this our victory,</span>
+<span class="i0">And draw them down unto the beach</span>
+<span class="i2">To gaze across the empty sea.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">But since the longed-for day is nigh,</span>
+<span class="i2">And scarce a God could stay us now,</span>
+<span class="i0">Why do ye hang your heads and sigh,</span>
+<span class="i2">Hindering for nought our eager prow?</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">The Sirens.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah, had ye chanced to reach the home</span>
+<span class="i2">On which your fond desires were set,</span>
+<span class="i0">Into what troubles had ye come?</span>
+<span class="i2">Short love and joy and long regret.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">But now, but now, when ye have lain</span>
+<span class="i2">Asleep with us a little while</span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath the washing of the main,</span>
+<span class="i2">How calm shall be your waking smile!</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">For ye shall smile to think of life</span>
+<span class="i2">That knows no troublous change or fear,</span>
+<span class="i0">No unavailing bitter strife,</span>
+<span class="i2">That ere its time brings trouble near.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Orpheus.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Is there some murmur in your ears,</span>
+<span class="i2">That all that we have done is nought,</span>
+<span class="i0">And nothing ends our cares and fears,</span>
+<span class="i2">Till the last fear on us is brought?</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">The Sirens.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Alas! and will ye stop your ears,</span>
+<span class="i2">In vain desire to do aught,</span>
+<span class="i0">And wish to live 'mid cares and fears,</span>
+<span class="i2">Until the last fear makes you nought?</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Orpheus.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Is not the May-time now on earth,</span>
+<span class="i2">When close against the city wall</span>
+<span class="i0">The folk are singing in their mirth,</span>
+<span class="i2">While on their heads the May-flowers fall?</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">The Sirens.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yes, May is come, and its sweet breath</span>
+<span class="i2">Shall well-nigh make you weep to-day,</span>
+<span class="i0">And pensive with swift-coming death,</span>
+<span class="i2">Shall ye be satiate of the May.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Orpheus.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Shall not July bring fresh delight,</span>
+<span class="i2">As underneath green trees ye sit,</span>
+<span class="i0">And o'er some damsel's body white</span>
+<span class="i2">The noontide shadows change and flit?</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">The Sirens.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No new delight July shall bring</span>
+<span class="i2">But ancient fear and fresh desire,</span>
+<span class="i0">And, spite of every lovely thing,</span>
+<span class="i2">Of July surely shall ye tire.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Orpheus.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And now, when August comes on thee,</span>
+<span class="i2">And 'mid the golden sea of corn</span>
+<span class="i0">The merry reapers thou mayst see,</span>
+<span class="i2">Wilt thou still think the earth forlorn?</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">The Sirens.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Set flowers upon thy short-lived head,</span>
+<span class="i2">And in thine heart forgetfulness</span>
+<span class="i0">Of man's hard toil, and scanty bread,</span>
+<span class="i2">And weary of those days no less.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Orpheus.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Or wilt thou climb the sunny hill,</span>
+<span class="i2">In the October afternoon,</span>
+<span class="i0">To watch the purple earth's blood fill</span>
+<span class="i2">The grey vat to the maiden's tune?</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">The Sirens.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When thou beginnest to grow old,</span>
+<span class="i2">Bring back remembrance of thy bliss</span>
+<span class="i0">With that the shining cup doth hold,</span>
+<span class="i2">And weary helplessly of this.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Orpheus.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Or pleasureless shall we pass by</span>
+<span class="i2">The long cold night and leaden day,</span>
+<span class="i0">That song, and tale, and minstrelsy</span>
+<span class="i2">Shall make as merry as the May?</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">The Sirens.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">List then, to-night, to some old tale</span>
+<span class="i2">Until the tears o'erflow thine eyes;</span>
+<span class="i0">But what shall all these things avail,</span>
+<span class="i2">When sad to-morrow comes and dies?</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Orpheus.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And when the world is born again,</span>
+<span class="i2">And with some fair love, side by side,</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou wanderest 'twixt the sun and rain,</span>
+<span class="i2">In that fresh love-begetting tide;</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then, when the world is born again,</span>
+<span class="i2">And the sweet year before thee lies,</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall thy heart think of coming pain,</span>
+<span class="i2">Or vex itself with memories?</span><br />
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">The Sirens.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah! then the world is born again</span>
+<span class="i2">With burning love unsatisfied,</span>
+<span class="i0">And new desires fond and vain,</span>
+<span class="i2">And weary days from tide to tide.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Ah! when the world is born again,</span>
+<span class="i2">A little day is soon gone by,</span>
+<span class="i0">When thou, unmoved by sun or rain,</span>
+<span class="i2">Within a cold straight house shalt lie.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Therewith they ceased awhile, as languidly</span>
+<span class="i0">The head of Argo fell off toward the sea,</span>
+<span class="i0">And through the water she began to go,</span>
+<span class="i0">For from the land a fitful wind did blow,</span>
+<span class="i0">That, dallying with the many-coloured sail,</span>
+<span class="i0">Would sometimes swell it out and sometimes fail,</span>
+<span class="i0">As nigh the east side of the bay they drew;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then o'er the waves again the music flew.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">The Sirens.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Think not of pleasure, short and vain.</span>
+<span class="i0">Wherewith, 'mid days of toil and pain,</span>
+<span class="i0">With sick and sinking hearts ye strive</span>
+<span class="i0">To cheat yourselves that ye may live</span>
+<span class="i0">With cold death ever close at hand;</span>
+<span class="i0">Think rather of a peaceful land,</span>
+<span class="i0">The changeless land where ye may be</span>
+<span class="i0">Roofed over by the changeful sea.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Orpheus.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">And is the fair town nothing then,</span>
+<span class="i0">The coming of the wandering men</span>
+<span class="i0">With that long talked of thing and strange,</span>
+<span class="i0">And news of how the kingdoms change;</span>
+<span class="i0">The pointed hands, and wondering</span>
+<span class="i0">At doers of a desperate thing?</span>
+<span class="i0">Push on, for surely this shall be</span>
+<span class="i0">Across a narrow strip of sea.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">The Sirens.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Alas! poor souls and timorous,</span>
+<span class="i0">Will ye draw nigh to gaze at us</span>
+<span class="i0">And see if we are fair indeed,</span>
+<span class="i0">For such as we shall be your meed,</span>
+<span class="i0">There, where our hearts would have you go.</span>
+<span class="i0">And where can the earth-dwellers show</span>
+<span class="i0">In any land such loveliness</span>
+<span class="i0">As that wherewith your eyes we bless,</span>
+<span class="i0">O wanderers of the Miny&aelig;,</span>
+<span class="i0">Worn toilers over land and sea?</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Orpheus.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Fair as the lightning thwart the sky,</span>
+<span class="i0">As sun-dyed snow upon the high</span>
+<span class="i0">Untrodden heaps of threatening stone</span>
+<span class="i0">The eagle looks upon alone,</span>
+<span class="i0">O fair as the doomed victim's wreath,</span>
+<span class="i0">O fair as deadly sleep and death,</span>
+<span class="i0">What will ye with them, earthly men,</span>
+<span class="i0">To mate your three-score years and ten?</span>
+<span class="i0">Toil rather, suffer and be free,</span>
+<span class="i0">Betwixt the green earth and the sea.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">The Sirens.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">If ye be bold with us to go,</span>
+<span class="i0">Things such as happy dreams may show</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall your once heavy eyes behold</span>
+<span class="i0">About our palaces of gold;</span>
+<span class="i0">Where waters 'neath the waters run,</span>
+<span class="i0">And from o'erhead a harmless sun</span>
+<span class="i0">Gleams through the woods of chrysolite.</span>
+<span class="i0">There gardens fairer to the sight</span>
+<span class="i0">Than those of the Ph&aelig;acian king</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall ye behold; and, wondering,</span>
+<span class="i0">Gaze on the sea-born fruit and flowers,</span>
+<span class="i0">And thornless and unchanging bowers,</span>
+<span class="i0">Whereof the May-time knoweth nought.</span>
+<span class="i2">So to the pillared house being brought,</span>
+<span class="i0">Poor souls, ye shall not be alone,</span>
+<span class="i0">For o'er the floors of pale blue stone</span>
+<span class="i0">All day such feet as ours shall pass,</span>
+<span class="i0">And, 'twixt the glimmering walls of glass,</span>
+<span class="i0">Such bodies garlanded with gold,</span>
+<span class="i0">So faint, so fair, shall ye behold,</span>
+<span class="i0">And clean forget the treachery</span>
+<span class="i0">Of changing earth and tumbling sea.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Orpheus.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">O the sweet valley of deep grass,</span>
+<span class="i0">Where-through the summer stream doth pass,</span>
+<span class="i0">In chain of shallow, and still pool,</span>
+<span class="i0">From misty morn to evening cool;</span>
+<span class="i0">Where the black ivy creeps and twines</span>
+<span class="i0">O'er the dark-armed, red-trunk&egrave;d pines,</span>
+<span class="i0">Whence clattering the pigeon flits,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or, brooding o'er her thin eggs, sits,</span>
+<span class="i0">And every hollow of the hills</span>
+<span class="i0">With echoing song the mavis fills.</span>
+<span class="i0">There by the stream, all unafraid,</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall stand the happy shepherd maid,</span>
+<span class="i0">Alone in first of sunlit hours;</span>
+<span class="i0">Behind her, on the dewy flowers,</span>
+<span class="i0">Her homespun woollen raiment lies,</span>
+<span class="i0">And her white limbs and sweet grey eyes</span>
+<span class="i0">Shine from the calm green pool and deep,</span>
+<span class="i0">While round about the swallows sweep,</span>
+<span class="i0">Not silent; and would God that we,</span>
+<span class="i0">Like them, were landed from the sea.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">The Sirens.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Shall we not rise with you at night,</span>
+<span class="i0">Up through the shimmering green twilight,</span>
+<span class="i0">That maketh there our changeless day,</span>
+<span class="i0">Then going through the moonlight grey,</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall we not sit upon these sands,</span>
+<span class="i0">To think upon the troublous lands</span>
+<span class="i0">Long left behind, where once ye were,</span>
+<span class="i0">When every day brought change and fear?</span>
+<span class="i0">There, with white arms about you twined,</span>
+<span class="i0">And shuddering somewhat at the wind</span>
+<span class="i0">That ye rejoiced erewhile to meet,</span>
+<span class="i0">Be happy, while old stories sweet,</span>
+<span class="i0">Half understood, float round your ears,</span>
+<span class="i0">And fill your eyes with happy tears.</span>
+<span class="i2">Ah! while we sing unto you there,</span>
+<span class="i0">As now we sing, with yellow hair</span>
+<span class="i0">Blown round about these pearly limbs,</span>
+<span class="i0">While underneath the grey sky swims</span>
+<span class="i0">The light shell-sailor of the waves,</span>
+<span class="i0">And to our song, from sea-filled caves</span>
+<span class="i0">Booms out an echoing harmony,</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall ye not love the peaceful sea?</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Orpheus.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Nigh the vine-covered hillocks green,</span>
+<span class="i0">In days agone, have I not seen</span>
+<span class="i0">The brown-clad maidens amorous,</span>
+<span class="i0">Below the long rose-trellised house,</span>
+<span class="i0">Dance to the querulous pipe and shrill,</span>
+<span class="i0">When the grey shadow of the hill</span>
+<span class="i0">Was lengthening at the end of day?</span>
+<span class="i0">Not shadowy nor pale were they,</span>
+<span class="i0">But limbed like those who 'twixt the trees,</span>
+<span class="i0">Follow the swift of Goddesses.</span>
+<span class="i0">Sunburnt they are somewhat, indeed,</span>
+<span class="i0">To where the rough brown woollen weed</span>
+<span class="i0">Is drawn across their bosoms sweet,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or cast from off their dancing feet;</span>
+<span class="i0">But yet the stars, the moonlight grey,</span>
+<span class="i0">The water wan, the dawn of day,</span>
+<span class="i0">Can see their bodies fair and white</span>
+<span class="i0">As Hers, who once, for man's delight,</span>
+<span class="i0">Before the world grew hard and old,</span>
+<span class="i0">Came o'er the bitter sea and cold;</span>
+<span class="i0">And surely those that met me there,</span>
+<span class="i0">Her handmaidens and subjects were;</span>
+<span class="i0">And shame-faced, half-repressed desire</span>
+<span class="i0">Had lit their glorious eyes with fire,</span>
+<span class="i0">That maddens eager hearts of men.</span>
+<span class="i0">O would that I were with them when</span>
+<span class="i0">The new-risen moon is gathering light,</span>
+<span class="i0">And yellow from the homestead white</span>
+<span class="i0">The windows gleam; but verily</span>
+<span class="i0">This waits us o'er a little sea.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">The Sirens.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Come to the land where none grows old,</span>
+<span class="i0">And none is rash or over-bold,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor any noise there is nor war,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor rumour from wild lands afar,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor plagues, nor birth and death of kings;</span>
+<span class="i0">No vain desire of unknown things</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall vex you there, no hope or fear</span>
+<span class="i0">Of that which never draweth near;</span>
+<span class="i0">But in that lovely land and still</span>
+<span class="i0">Ye may remember what ye will,</span>
+<span class="i0">And what ye will, forget for aye.</span>
+<span class="i2">So while the kingdoms pass away,</span>
+<span class="i0">Ye sea-beat hardened toilers erst,</span>
+<span class="i0">Unresting, for vain fame athirst,</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall be at peace for evermore,</span>
+<span class="i0">With hearts fulfilled of Godlike lore,</span>
+<span class="i0">And calm, unwavering Godlike love,</span>
+<span class="i0">No lapse of time can turn or move.</span>
+<span class="i0">There, ages after your fair Fleece</span>
+<span class="i0">Is clean forgotten, yea, and Greece</span>
+<span class="i0">Is no more counted glorious,</span>
+<span class="i0">Alone with us, alone with us,</span>
+<span class="i0">Alone with us, dwell happily,</span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath our trembling roof of sea.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Orpheus.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Ah! do ye weary of the strife</span>
+<span class="i0">And long to change this eager life</span>
+<span class="i0">For shadowy and dull hopelessness,</span>
+<span class="i0">Thinking indeed to gain no less</span>
+<span class="i0">Than far from this grey light to lie,</span>
+<span class="i0">And there to die and not to die,</span>
+<span class="i0">To be as if ye ne'er had been,</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet keep your memory fresh and green,</span>
+<span class="i0">To have no thought of good or ill,</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet feed your fill or pleasure still?</span>
+<span class="i0">O idle dream! Ah, verily</span>
+<span class="i0">If it shall happen unto me</span>
+<span class="i0">That I have thought of anything,</span>
+<span class="i0">When o'er my bones the sea-fowl sing,</span>
+<span class="i0">And I lie dead, how shall I pine</span>
+<span class="i0">For those fresh joys that once were mine,</span>
+<span class="i0">On this green fount of joy and mirth,</span>
+<span class="i0">The ever young and glorious earth;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then, helpless, shall I call to mind</span>
+<span class="i0">Thoughts of the sweet flower-scented wind,</span>
+<span class="i0">The dew, the gentle rain at night,</span>
+<span class="i0">The wonder-working snow and white.</span>
+<span class="i0">The song of birds, the water's fall,</span>
+<span class="i0">The sun that maketh bliss of all;</span>
+<span class="i0">Yea, this our toil and victory,</span>
+<span class="i0">The tyrannous and conquered sea.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">The Sirens.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah, will ye go, and whither then</span>
+<span class="i2">Will ye go from us, soon to die,</span>
+<span class="i0">To fill your three-score years and ten,</span>
+<span class="i2">With many an unnamed misery?</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">And this the wretchedest of all,</span>
+<span class="i2">That when upon your lonely eyes</span>
+<span class="i0">The last faint heaviness shall fall</span>
+<span class="i2">Ye shall bethink you of our cries.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Come back, nor grown old, seek in vain</span>
+<span class="i2">To hear us sing across the sea.</span>
+<span class="i0">Come back, come back, come back again,</span>
+<span class="i2">Come back, O fearful Miny&aelig;!</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Orpheus.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah, once again, ah, once again,</span>
+<span class="i2">The black prow plunges through the sea,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor yet shall all your toil be vain,</span>
+<span class="i2">Nor yet forgot, O Miny&aelig;.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">In such wise sang the Thracian, in such wise</span>
+<span class="i0">Out gushed the Sirens' deadly melodies;</span>
+<span class="i0">But long before the mingled song was done,</span>
+<span class="i0">Back to the oars the Miny&aelig;, one by one,</span>
+<span class="i0">Slunk silently; though many an one sighed sore,</span>
+<span class="i0">As his strong fingers met the wood once more,</span>
+<span class="i0">And from his breast the toilsome breathing came.</span>
+<span class="i2">But as they laboured, some for very shame</span>
+<span class="i0">Hung down their heads, and yet amongst them some</span>
+<span class="i0">Gazed at the place whence that sweet song had come;</span>
+<span class="i0">But round the oars and Argo's shielded side</span>
+<span class="i0">The sea grew white, and she began to glide</span>
+<span class="i0">Swift through the waters of that deadly bay;</span>
+<span class="i0">But when a long wake now behind her lay,</span>
+<span class="i0">And still the whistle of the wind increased,</span>
+<span class="i0">Past shroud and mast, and all the song had ceased,</span>
+<span class="i0">Butes rose up, the fair Athenian man,</span>
+<span class="i0">And with wild eyes betwixt the rowers ran</span>
+<span class="i0">Unto the poop and leapt into the sea;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then all men rested on their oars, but he</span>
+<span class="i0">Rose to the top, and towards the shore swam fast;</span>
+<span class="i0">While all eyes watched him, who had well-nigh past</span>
+<span class="i0">The place where sand and water 'gan to meet</span>
+<span class="i0">In wreaths and ripples round the ivory feet,</span>
+<span class="i0">When sun-burnt swimmer, snow-white glancing limb,</span>
+<span class="i0">And yellow sand unto their eyes grew dim,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor did they see their fellow any more.</span>
+<span class="i2">But when they once again beheld the shore</span>
+<span class="i0">The wind sung o'er the empty beach and bare,</span>
+<span class="i0">And by the cliff uprose into the air</span>
+<span class="i0">A delicate and glittering little cloud,</span>
+<span class="i0">That seemed some many-coloured sun to shroud;</span>
+<span class="i0">But as the rugged cliff it drew above</span>
+<span class="i0">The wondering Miny&aelig; beheld it move</span>
+<span class="i0">Westward, toward Lilyb&aelig;um and the sun.</span>
+<span class="i2">Then once more was their seaward course begun,</span>
+<span class="i0">And soon those deadly sands were far astern,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor ever after could the heroes learn</span>
+<span class="i0">If Butes lived or died; but old tales tell</span>
+<span class="i0">That while the tumbling waves he breasted well,</span>
+<span class="i0">Venus beheld him, as unseen she drew</span>
+<span class="i0">From sunny Cyprus to the headland blue</span>
+<span class="i0">Of Lilyb&aelig;um, where her temple is;</span>
+<span class="i0">She, with a mind his sun-burnt brows to kiss,</span>
+<span class="i0">E'en as his feet were dropping nigh the beach,</span>
+<span class="i0">And ere his hand the deadly hands could reach,</span>
+<span class="i0">Stooped, as the merlin stoops upon the dove,</span>
+<span class="i0">And snatched him thence to be awhile her love,</span>
+<span class="i0">Betwixt the golden pillars of her shrine,</span>
+<span class="i0">That those who pass the &AElig;gades see shine</span>
+<span class="i0">From high-raised Lilyb&aelig;um o'er the sea.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">But far away the sea-beat Miny&aelig;</span>
+<span class="i0">Cast forth the foam, as through the growing night</span>
+<span class="i0">They laboured ever, having small delight</span>
+<span class="i0">In life all empty of that promised bliss,</span>
+<span class="i0">In love that scarce can give a dying kiss,</span>
+<span class="i0">In pleasure ending sweet songs with a wail,</span>
+<span class="i0">In fame that little can dead men avail,</span>
+<span class="i0">In vain toil struggling with the fateful stream,</span>
+<span class="i0">In hope, the promise of a morning dream.</span>
+<span class="i2">Yet as night died, and the cold sea and grey</span>
+<span class="i0">Seemed running with them toward the dawn of day,</span>
+<span class="i0">Needs must they once again forget their death,</span>
+<span class="i0">Needs must they, being alive and drawing breath,</span>
+<span class="i0">As men who of no other life can know</span>
+<span class="i0">In their own minds again immortal grow.</span>
+<span class="i2">But toward the south a little now they bent,</span>
+<span class="i0">And for a while o'er landless sea they went,</span>
+<span class="i0">But on the third day made another land</span>
+<span class="i0">At dawn of day, and thitherward did stand;</span>
+<span class="i0">And since the wind blew lightly from the shore,</span>
+<span class="i0">Somewhat abeam, they feared not with the oar</span>
+<span class="i0">To push across the shallowing sea and green,</span>
+<span class="i0">That washed a land the fairest they had seen,</span>
+<span class="i0">Whose shell-strewn beach at highest of the tide</span>
+<span class="i0">'Twixt sea and flowery shore was nowise wide,</span>
+<span class="i0">And drawn a little backward from the sea</span>
+<span class="i0">There stood a marble wall wrought cunningly,</span>
+<span class="i0">Rosy and white, set thick with images,</span>
+<span class="i0">And over-topped with heavy-fruited trees,</span>
+<span class="i0">Which by the shore ran, as the bay did bend,</span>
+<span class="i0">And to their eyes had neither gap nor end;</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor any gate: and looking over this,</span>
+<span class="i0">They saw a place not made for earthly bliss,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or eyes of dying men, for growing there</span>
+<span class="i0">The yellow apple and the painted pear,</span>
+<span class="i0">And well-filled golden cups of oranges</span>
+<span class="i0">Hung amid groves of pointed cypress trees;</span>
+<span class="i0">On grassy slopes the twining vine-boughs grew,</span>
+<span class="i0">And hoary olives 'twixt far mountains blue,</span>
+<span class="i0">And many-coloured flowers, like as a cloud</span>
+<span class="i0">The rugged southern cliffs did softly shroud;</span>
+<span class="i0">And many a green-necked bird sung to his mate</span>
+<span class="i0">Within the slim-leaved, thorny pomegranate,</span>
+<span class="i0">That flung its unstrung rubies on the grass,</span>
+<span class="i0">And slowly o'er the place the wind did pass</span>
+<span class="i0">Heavy with many odours that it bore</span>
+<span class="i0">From thymy hills down to the sea-beat shore,</span>
+<span class="i0">Because no flower there is, that all the year,</span>
+<span class="i0">From spring to autumn, beareth otherwhere,</span>
+<span class="i0">But there it flourished; nor the fruit alone</span>
+<span class="i0">From 'twixt the green leaves and the boughs outshone,</span>
+<span class="i0">For there each tree was ever flowering.</span>
+<span class="i2">Nor was there lacking many a living thing</span>
+<span class="i0">Changed of its nature; for the roebuck there</span>
+<span class="i0">Walked fearless with the tiger; and the bear</span>
+<span class="i0">Rolled sleepily upon the fruit-strawn grass,</span>
+<span class="i0">Letting the conies o'er his rough hide pass,</span>
+<span class="i0">With blinking eyes, that meant no treachery.</span>
+<span class="i0">Careless the partridge passed the red fox by;</span>
+<span class="i0">Untouched the serpent left the thrushes brown,</span>
+<span class="i0">And as a picture was the lion's frown.</span>
+<span class="i2">But in the midst there was a grassy space,</span>
+<span class="i0">Raised somewhat over all the flowery place,</span>
+<span class="i0">On marble terrace-walls wrought like a dream;</span>
+<span class="i0">And round about it ran a clear blue stream,</span>
+<span class="i0">Bridged o'er with marble steps, and midmost there</span>
+<span class="i0">Grew a green tree, whose smooth grey boughs did bear</span>
+<span class="i0">Such fruit as never man elsewhere had seen,</span>
+<span class="i0">For 'twixt the sunlight and the shadow green</span>
+<span class="i0">Shone out fair apples of red gleaming gold.</span>
+<span class="i0">Moreover round the tree, in many a fold,</span>
+<span class="i0">Lay coiled a dragon, glittering little less</span>
+<span class="i0">Than that which his eternal watchfulness</span>
+<span class="i0">Was set to guard; nor yet was he alone,</span>
+<span class="i0">For from the daisied grass about him shone</span>
+<span class="i0">Gold raiment wrapping round two damsels fair,</span>
+<span class="i0">And one upon the steps combed out her hair,</span>
+<span class="i0">And with shut eyes sung low as in a dream;</span>
+<span class="i0">And one stood naked in the cold blue stream,</span>
+<span class="i0">While on the bank her golden raiment lay;</span>
+<span class="i0">But on that noontide of the quivering day,</span>
+<span class="i0">She only, hearing the seafarers' shout,</span>
+<span class="i0">Her lovely golden head had turned about,</span>
+<span class="i0">And seen their white sail flapping o'er the wall,</span>
+<span class="i0">And as she turned had let her tresses fall,</span>
+<span class="i0">Which the thin water rippling round her knee</span>
+<span class="i0">Bore outward from her toward the restless sea.</span>
+<span class="i2">Not long she stood, but looking seaward yet,</span>
+<span class="i0">From out the water made good haste to get,</span>
+<span class="i0">And catching up her raiment hastily,</span>
+<span class="i0">Ran up the marble stair, and 'gan to cry:</span>
+<span class="i0">"Wake, O my sisters, wake, for now are come</span>
+<span class="i0">The thieves of &AElig;a to our peaceful home."</span>
+<span class="i2">Then at her voice they gat them to their feet,</span>
+<span class="i0">And when her raiment all her body sweet</span>
+<span class="i0">Once more had hidden, joining hand to hand,</span>
+<span class="i0">About the sacred apples did they stand,</span>
+<span class="i0">While coiled the dragon closer to the tree,</span>
+<span class="i0">And raised his head above them threateningly.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Meanwhile, from Argo many a sea-beat face</span>
+<span class="i0">Gazed longingly upon that lovely place,</span>
+<span class="i0">And some their eager hands already laid</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the gangway. Then Medea said:&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">"Get back unto the oars, O Miny&aelig;,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor loiter here, for what have such as we</span>
+<span class="i0">To do herein, where, 'mid undying trees,</span>
+<span class="i0">Undying watch the wise Hesperides,</span>
+<span class="i0">And where the while they watch, scarce can a God</span>
+<span class="i0">Set foot upon the fruit-besprinkled sod</span>
+<span class="i0">That no snow ever covers? therefore haste,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor yet in wondering your fair lives waste;</span>
+<span class="i0">For these are as the Gods, nor think of us,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor to their eyes can aught be glorious</span>
+<span class="i0">That son of man can do; would God that I</span>
+<span class="i0">Could see far off the misty headland lie,</span>
+<span class="i0">Where we the guilt of blood shall wash away,</span>
+<span class="i0">For I grow weary of the dashing spray,</span>
+<span class="i0">And ceaseless roll of interwoven seas,</span>
+<span class="i0">And fain were sitting 'neath the whispering trees</span>
+<span class="i0">In homely places, where the children play,</span>
+<span class="i0">Who change like me, grow old, and die some day."</span>
+<span class="i2">She ceased, and little soothly did they grieve,</span>
+<span class="i0">For all its loveliness, that land to leave,</span>
+<span class="i0">For now some God had chilled their hardihead,</span>
+<span class="i0">And in their hearts had set a sacred dread,</span>
+<span class="i0">They knew not why; but on their oars they hung,</span>
+<span class="i0">A little longer as the sisters sung.</span>
+
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"O ye, who to this place have strayed,</span>
+<span class="i0">That never for man's eyes was made,</span>
+<span class="i0">Depart in haste, as ye have come,</span>
+<span class="i0">And bear back to your sea-beat home</span>
+<span class="i0">This memory of the age of gold,</span>
+<span class="i0">And for your eyes, grown over-bold,</span>
+<span class="i0">Your hearts shall pay in sorrowing,</span>
+<span class="i0">For want of many a half-seen thing.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"Lo, such as is this garden green,</span>
+<span class="i0">In days past, all the world has been,</span>
+<span class="i0">And what we know all people knew,</span>
+<span class="i0">Save this, that unto worse all grew.</span>
+<span class="i2">"But since the golden age is gone,</span>
+<span class="i0">This little place is left alone,</span>
+<span class="i0">Unchanged, unchanging, watched of us,</span>
+<span class="i0">The daughters of wise Hesperus.</span>
+<span class="i2">"Surely the heavenly Messenger</span>
+<span class="i0">Full oft is fain to enter here,</span>
+<span class="i0">And yet without must he abide;</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor longeth less the dark king's bride</span>
+<span class="i0">To set red lips unto that fruit</span>
+<span class="i0">That erst made nought her mother's suit.</span>
+<span class="i0">Here would Diana rest awhile,</span>
+<span class="i0">Forgetful of her woodland guile,</span>
+<span class="i0">Among these beasts that fear her nought.</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor is it less in Pallas' thought,</span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath our trees to ponder o'er</span>
+<span class="i0">The wide, unfathomed sea of lore;</span>
+<span class="i0">And oft-kissed Cither&aelig;a, no less</span>
+<span class="i0">Weary of love, full fain would press</span>
+<span class="i0">These flowers with soft unsandalled feet.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"But unto us our rest is sweet,</span>
+<span class="i0">Neither shall any man or God</span>
+<span class="i0">Or lovely Goddess touch the sod</span>
+<span class="i0">Where-under old times buried lie,</span>
+<span class="i0">Before the world knew misery.</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor will we have a slave or king,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor yet will we learn anything</span>
+<span class="i0">But that we know, that makes us glad;</span>
+<span class="i0">While oft the very Gods are sad</span>
+<span class="i0">With knowing what the Fates shall do.</span>
+<span class="i2">"Neither from us shall wisdom go</span>
+<span class="i0">To fill the hungering hearts of men,</span>
+<span class="i0">Lest to them threescore years and ten</span>
+<span class="i0">Come but to seem a little day,</span>
+<span class="i0">Once given, and taken soon away.</span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, rather let them find their life</span>
+<span class="i0">Bitter and sweet, fulfilled of strife,</span>
+<span class="i0">Restless with hope, vain with regret,</span>
+<span class="i0">Trembling with fear, most strangely set</span>
+<span class="i0">'Twixt memory and forgetfulness;</span>
+<span class="i0">So more shall joy be, troubles less,</span>
+<span class="i0">And surely when all this is past,</span>
+<span class="i0">They shall not want their rest at last.</span>
+<span class="i2">"Let earth and heaven go on their way,</span>
+<span class="i0">While still we watch from day to day,</span>
+<span class="i0">In this green place left all alone,</span>
+<span class="i0">A remnant of the days long gone."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">There in the wind they hung, as word by word</span>
+<span class="i0">The clear-voiced singers silently they heard;</span>
+<span class="i0">But when the air was barren of their song,</span>
+<span class="i0">Anigh the shore they durst not linger long,</span>
+<span class="i0">So northward turned forewearied Argo's head,</span>
+<span class="i0">And dipping oars, from that fair country sped,</span>
+<span class="i0">Fulfilled of new desires and pensive thought,</span>
+<span class="i0">Which that day's life unto their hearts had brought.</span>
+<span class="i2">Then hard they toiled upon the bitter sea,</span>
+<span class="i0">And in two days they did not fail to be</span>
+<span class="i0">In sight of land, a headland high and blue</span>
+<span class="i0">Which straight Milesian Erginus knew</span>
+<span class="i0">To be the fateful place which now they sought,</span>
+<span class="i0">Stormy Malea, so thitherward they brought</span>
+<span class="i0">The groaning ship, and, casting anchor, lay</span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath that headland's lee, within a bay,</span>
+<span class="i0">Wherefrom the more part landed, and their feet</span>
+<span class="i0">Once more the happy soil of Greece did meet.</span>
+<span class="i2">Therewith they fail&egrave;d not to bring ashore</span>
+<span class="i0">Rich robes of price and of fair arms good store,</span>
+<span class="i0">And gold and silver, that they there might buy</span>
+<span class="i0">What yet they lacked for their solemnity;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then, while upon the highest point of land</span>
+<span class="i0">Some built an altar, Jason, with a band</span>
+<span class="i0">Of all the chiefest of the Miny&aelig;,</span>
+<span class="i0">Turned inland from the murmur of the sea.</span>
+<span class="i2">Not far they went ere by a little stream</span>
+<span class="i0">Down in a valley they could see the gleam</span>
+<span class="i0">Of brazen pillars and fair-gilded vanes,</span>
+<span class="i0">And, dropping down by dank dark-wooded lanes</span>
+<span class="i0">From off the hill-side, reached a house at last</span>
+<span class="i0">Where in and out men-slaves and women passed,</span>
+<span class="i0">And guests were streaming fast into the hall,</span>
+<span class="i0">Where now the oaken boards were laid for all.</span>
+<span class="i0">With these the Miny&aelig; went, and soon they were</span>
+<span class="i0">Within a pillared hall both great and fair,</span>
+<span class="i0">Where folk already sat beside the board,</span>
+<span class="i0">And on the dais was an ancient lord.</span>
+<span class="i2">But when these saw the fearless Miny&aelig;</span>
+<span class="i0">Glittering in arms, they sprang up hastily,</span>
+<span class="i0">And each man turned about unto the wall</span>
+<span class="i0">To seize his spear or staff: then through the hall</span>
+<span class="i0">Jason cried out: "Laconians, fear ye not,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor leave the flesh-meat while it reeketh hot</span>
+<span class="i0">For dread of us, for we are men as ye,</span>
+<span class="i0">And I am Jason of the Miny&aelig;,</span>
+<span class="i0">And come from &AElig;a to the land of Greece,</span>
+<span class="i0">And in my ship bear back the Golden Fleece,</span>
+<span class="i0">And a fair Colchian queen to fill my bed.</span>
+<span class="i0">And now we pray to share your wine and bread,</span>
+<span class="i0">And other things we need, and at our hands</span>
+<span class="i0">That ye will take fair things of many lands."</span>
+<span class="i2">"Sirs," said the ancient lord, "be welcome here,</span>
+<span class="i0">Come up and sit by me, and make such cheer</span>
+<span class="i0">As here ye can: glad am I that to me</span>
+<span class="i0">The first of Grecian men from off the sea</span>
+<span class="i0">Ye now are come."</span>
+<span class="i8">Therewith the great hall rang</span>
+<span class="i0">With joyful shouts, and as, with clash and clang</span>
+<span class="i0">Of well-wrought arms, up to the dais they went,</span>
+<span class="i0">All eyes upon the Miny&aelig; were bent,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor could they have enough of wondering</span>
+<span class="i0">At this or that sea-tossed victorious king.</span>
+<span class="i2">So with the strangers there they held high feast,</span>
+<span class="i0">And afterwards the slaves drove many a beast</span>
+<span class="i0">Down to the shore, and carried back again</span>
+<span class="i0">Great store of precious things in pack and wain;</span>
+<span class="i0">Wrought gold and silver, gems, full many a bale</span>
+<span class="i0">Of scarlet cloth, and fine silk, fit to veil</span>
+<span class="i0">The perfect limbs of dreaded Goddesses;</span>
+<span class="i0">Spices fresh-gathered from the outland trees,</span>
+<span class="i0">And arms well-wrought, and precious scarce-known wine,</span>
+<span class="i0">And carven images well-nigh divine.</span>
+<span class="i2">So when all folk with these were satisfied,</span>
+<span class="i0">Back went the Miny&aelig; to the water-side,</span>
+<span class="i0">And with them that old lord, fain to behold</span>
+<span class="i0">Victorious Argo and the Fleece of Gold.</span>
+<span class="i0">And so aboard amid the oars he lay</span>
+<span class="i0">Throughout the night, and at the dawn of day</span>
+<span class="i0">Did all men land, nor spared that day to wear</span>
+<span class="i0">The best of all they had of gold-wrought gear,</span>
+<span class="i0">And every one, being crowned with olive grey,</span>
+<span class="i0">Up to the headland did they take their way,</span>
+<span class="i0">Where now already stood the crown&egrave;d priests</span>
+<span class="i0">About the altars by the gilt-horned beasts.</span>
+<span class="i0">There, as the fair sun rose, did Jason break</span>
+<span class="i0">Over the altar the thin barley-cake,</span>
+<span class="i0">And cast the salt abroad, and there were slain</span>
+<span class="i0">The milk-white bulls, and there red wine did rain</span>
+<span class="i0">On to the fire from out the ancient jar,</span>
+<span class="i0">And high rose up the red flame, seen afar</span>
+<span class="i0">From many another headland of that shore:</span>
+<span class="i0">But over all its crackling and its roar</span>
+<span class="i0">Uprose from time to time a joyous song,</span>
+<span class="i0">That on the summer morning lay for long,</span>
+<span class="i0">The mighty voices of the Miny&aelig;</span>
+<span class="i0">Exulting o'er the tossing conquered sea,</span>
+<span class="i0">That far below thrust on by tide and wind</span>
+<span class="i0">The crumbling bases of the headland mined.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+<h3>FROM</h3>
+
+<h2>"THE EARTHLY PARADISE."</h2>
+
+<h3><a name="AN_APOLOGY" id="AN_APOLOGY"></a>AN APOLOGY.</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Of Heaven or Hell I have no power to sing,</span>
+<span class="i0">I cannot ease the burden of your fears,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or make quick-coming death a little thing,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or bring again the pleasure of past years,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor for my words shall ye forget your tears,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or hope again for aught that I can say,</span>
+<span class="i0">The idle singer of an empty day.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">But rather, when aweary of your mirth,</span>
+<span class="i0">From full hearts still unsatisfied ye sigh,</span>
+<span class="i0">And, feeling kindly unto all the earth,</span>
+<span class="i0">Grudge every minute as it passes by,</span>
+<span class="i0">Made the more mindful that the sweet days die&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;Remember me a little then I pray,</span>
+<span class="i0">The idle singer of an empty day.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">The heavy trouble, the bewildering care</span>
+<span class="i0">That weighs us down who live and earn our bread,</span>
+<span class="i0">These idle verses have no power to bear;</span>
+<span class="i0">So let me sing of names remembered,</span>
+<span class="i0">Because they, living not, can ne'er be dead,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or long time take their memory quite away</span>
+<span class="i0">From us poor singers of an empty day.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Dreamer of dreams, born out of my due time,</span>
+<span class="i0">Why should I strive to set the crooked straight?</span>
+<span class="i0">Let it suffice me that my murmuring rhyme</span>
+<span class="i0">Beats with light wing against the ivory gate,</span>
+<span class="i0">Telling a tale not too importunate</span>
+<span class="i0">To those who in the sleepy region stay,</span>
+<span class="i0">Lulled by the singer of an empty day.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Folk say, a wizard to a northern king</span>
+<span class="i0">At Christmas-tide such wondrous things did show,</span>
+<span class="i0">That through one window men beheld the spring,</span>
+<span class="i0">And through another saw the summer glow,</span>
+<span class="i0">And through a third the fruited vines a-row,</span>
+<span class="i0">While still, unheard, but in its wonted way,</span>
+<span class="i0">Piped the drear wind of that December day.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">So with this Earthly Paradise it is,</span>
+<span class="i0">If ye will read aright, and pardon me,</span>
+<span class="i0">Who strive to build a shadowy isle of bliss</span>
+<span class="i0">Midmost the beating of the steely sea,</span>
+<span class="i0">Where tossed about all hearts of men must be:</span>
+<span class="i0">Whose ravening monsters mighty men shall slay,</span>
+<span class="i0">Not the poor singer of an empty day.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+<h3>FROM</h3>
+
+<h2><a name="PROLOGUE" id="PROLOGUE"></a>PROLOGUE&mdash;THE WANDERERS.</h2>
+
+<h3>ARGUMENT.</h3>
+
+<p>Certain gentlemen and mariners of Norway, having considered all that
+they had heard of the Earthly Paradise, set sail to find it, and after
+many troubles and the lapse of many years came old men to some Western
+land, of which they had never before heard: there they died, when they
+had dwelt there certain years, much honoured of the strange people.</p>
+<br />
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Forget six counties overhung with smoke,</span>
+<span class="i0">Forget the snorting steam and piston stroke,</span>
+<span class="i0">Forget the spreading of the hideous town;</span>
+<span class="i0">Think rather of the pack-horse on the down,</span>
+<span class="i0">And dream of London, small, and white, and clean,</span>
+<span class="i0">The clear Thames bordered by its gardens green;</span>
+<span class="i0">Think, that below bridge the green lapping waves</span>
+<span class="i0">Smite some few keels that bear Levantine staves,</span>
+<span class="i0">Cut from the yew wood on the burnt-up hill,</span>
+<span class="i0">And pointed jars that Greek hands toiled to fill,</span>
+<span class="i0">And treasured scanty spice from some far sea,</span>
+<span class="i0">Florence gold cloth, and Ypres napery,</span>
+<span class="i0">And cloth of Bruges, and hogsheads of Guienne;</span>
+<span class="i0">While nigh the thronged wharf Geoffrey Chaucer's pen</span>
+<span class="i0">Moves over bills of lading&mdash;mid such times</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall dwell the hollow puppets of my rhymes.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">A nameless city in a distant sea,</span>
+<span class="i0">White as the changing walls of fa&euml;rie,</span>
+<span class="i0">Thronged with much people clad in ancient guise</span>
+<span class="i0">I now am fain to set before your eyes;</span>
+<span class="i0">There, leave the clear green water and the quays,</span>
+<span class="i0">And pass betwixt its marble palaces,</span>
+<span class="i0">Until ye come unto the chiefest square;</span>
+<span class="i0">A bubbling conduit is set midmost there,</span>
+<span class="i0">And round about it now the maidens throng,</span>
+<span class="i0">With jest and laughter, and sweet broken song,</span>
+<span class="i0">Making but light of labour new begun</span>
+<span class="i0">While in their vessels gleams the morning sun.</span>
+<span class="i2">On one side of the square a temple stands,</span>
+<span class="i0">Wherein the gods worshipped in ancient lands</span>
+<span class="i0">Still have their altars, a great market-place</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon two other sides fills all the space,</span>
+<span class="i0">And thence the busy hum of men comes forth;</span>
+<span class="i0">But on the cold side looking toward the north</span>
+<span class="i0">A pillared council-house may you behold,</span>
+<span class="i0">Within whose porch are images of gold,</span>
+<span class="i0">Gods of the nations who dwelt anciently</span>
+<span class="i0">About the borders of the Grecian sea.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Pass now between them, push the brazen door,</span>
+<span class="i0">And standing on the polished marble floor</span>
+<span class="i0">Leave all the noises of the square behind;</span>
+<span class="i0">Most calm that reverent chamber shall ye find,</span>
+<span class="i0">Silent at first, but for the noise you made</span>
+<span class="i0">When on the brazen door your hand you laid</span>
+<span class="i0">To shut it after you&mdash;but now behold</span>
+<span class="i0">The city rulers on their thrones of gold,</span>
+<span class="i0">Clad in most fair attire, and in their hands</span>
+<span class="i0">Long carven silver-banded ebony wands;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then from the da&iuml;s drop your eyes and see</span>
+<span class="i0">Soldiers and peasants standing reverently</span>
+<span class="i0">Before those elders, round a little band</span>
+<span class="i0">Who bear such arms as guard the English land,</span>
+<span class="i0">But battered, rent, and rusted sore, and they,</span>
+<span class="i0">The men themselves, are shrivelled, bent, and grey;</span>
+<span class="i0">And as they lean with pain upon their spears</span>
+<span class="i0">Their brows seem furrowed deep with more than years;</span>
+<span class="i0">For sorrow dulls their heavy sunken eyes,</span>
+<span class="i0">Bent are they less with time than miseries.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Pondering on them the city grey-beards gaze</span>
+<span class="i0">Through kindly eyes, midst thoughts of other days,</span>
+<span class="i0">And pity for poor souls, and vague regret</span>
+<span class="i0">For all the things that might have happened yet,</span>
+<span class="i0">Until, their wonder gathering to a head,</span>
+<span class="i0">The wisest man, who long that land has led,</span>
+<span class="i0">Breaks the deep silence, unto whom again</span>
+<span class="i0">A wanderer answers. Slowly as in pain,</span>
+<span class="i0">And with a hollow voice as from a tomb</span>
+<span class="i0">At first he tells the story of his doom,</span>
+<span class="i0">But as it grows and once more hopes and fears,</span>
+<span class="i0">Both measureless, are ringing round his ears,</span>
+<span class="i0">His eyes grow bright, his seeming days decrease,</span>
+<span class="i0">For grief once told brings somewhat back of peace.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<br />
+<h4><span class="smcap">The Elder of the City.</span></h4>
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">From what unheard-of world, in what strange keel,</span>
+<span class="i0">Have ye come hither to our commonweal?</span>
+<span class="i0">No barbarous race, as these our peasants say,</span>
+<span class="i0">But learned in memories of a long-past day,</span>
+<span class="i0">Speaking, some few at least, the ancient tongue</span>
+<span class="i0">That through the lapse of ages still has clung</span>
+<span class="i0">To us, the seed of the Ionian race.</span>
+<span class="i2">Speak out and fear not; if ye need a place</span>
+<span class="i0">Wherein to pass the end of life away,</span>
+<span class="i0">That shall ye gain from us from this same day,</span>
+<span class="i0">Unless the enemies of God ye are;</span>
+<span class="i0">We fear not you and yours to bear us war,</span>
+<span class="i0">And scarce can think that ye will try again</span>
+<span class="i0">Across the perils of the shifting plain</span>
+<span class="i0">To seek your own land whereso that may be:</span>
+<span class="i0">For folk of ours bearing the memory</span>
+<span class="i0">Of our old land, in days past oft have striven</span>
+<span class="i0">To reach it, unto none of whom was given</span>
+<span class="i0">To come again and tell us of the tale,</span>
+<span class="i0">Therefore our ships are now content to sail,</span>
+<span class="i0">About these happy islands that we know.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">The Wanderer.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Masters, I have to tell a tale of woe,</span>
+<span class="i0">A tale of folly and of wasted life,</span>
+<span class="i0">Hope against hope, the bitter dregs of strife,</span>
+<span class="i0">Ending, where all things end, in death at last:</span>
+<span class="i0">So if I tell the story of the past,</span>
+<span class="i0">Let it be worth some little rest, I pray,</span>
+<span class="i0">A little slumber ere the end of day.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">No wonder if the Grecian tongue I know,</span>
+<span class="i0">Since at Byzantium many a year ago</span>
+<span class="i0">My father bore the twibil valiantly;</span>
+<span class="i0">There did he marry, and get me, and die,</span>
+<span class="i0">And I went back to Norway to my kin,</span>
+<span class="i0">Long ere this beard ye see did first begin</span>
+<span class="i0">To shade my mouth, but nathless not before</span>
+<span class="i0">Among the Greeks I gathered some small lore,</span>
+<span class="i0">And standing midst the V&aelig;ringers, still heard</span>
+<span class="i0">From this or that man many a wondrous word;</span>
+<span class="i0">For ye shall know that though we worshipped God,</span>
+<span class="i0">And heard mass duly, still of Swithiod</span>
+<span class="i0">The Greater, Odin and his house of gold,</span>
+<span class="i0">The noble stories ceased not to be told;</span>
+<span class="i0">These moved me more than words of mine can say</span>
+<span class="i0">E'en while at Micklegarth my folks did stay;</span>
+<span class="i0">But when I reached one dying autumn-tide</span>
+<span class="i0">My uncle's dwelling near the forest side,</span>
+<span class="i0">And saw the land so scanty and so bare,</span>
+<span class="i0">And all the hard things men contend with there,</span>
+<span class="i0">A little and unworthy land it seemed,</span>
+<span class="i0">And yet the more of Asagard I dreamed,</span>
+<span class="i0">And worthier seemed the ancient faith of praise.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">But now, but now&mdash;when one of all those days</span>
+<span class="i0">Like Lazarus' finger on my heart should be</span>
+<span class="i0">Breaking the fiery fixed eternity,</span>
+<span class="i0">But for one moment&mdash;could I see once more</span>
+<span class="i0">The grey-roofed sea-port sloping towards the shore,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or note the brown boats standing in from sea,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or the great dromond swinging from the quay,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or in the beech-woods watch the screaming jay</span>
+<span class="i0">Shoot up betwixt the tall trunks, smooth and grey&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">Yea, could I see the days before distress</span>
+<span class="i0">When very longing was but happiness.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Within our house there was a Breton squire</span>
+<span class="i0">Well learned, who fail'd not to fan the fire</span>
+<span class="i0">That evermore unholpen burned in me</span>
+<span class="i0">Strange lands and things beyond belief to see;</span>
+<span class="i0">Much lore of many lands this Breton knew;</span>
+<span class="i0">And for one tale I told, he told me two.</span>
+<span class="i0">He, counting Asagard a new-told thing,</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet spoke of gardens ever blossoming</span>
+<span class="i0">Across the western sea where none grew old,</span>
+<span class="i0">E'en as the books at Micklegarth had told,</span>
+<span class="i0">And said moreover that an English knight</span>
+<span class="i0">Had had the Earthly Paradise in sight,</span>
+<span class="i0">And heard the songs of those that dwelt therein.</span>
+<span class="i0">But entered not, being hindered by his sin.</span>
+<span class="i0">Shortly, so much of this and that he said</span>
+<span class="i0">That in my heart the sharp barb entered,</span>
+<span class="i0">And like real life would empty stories seem,</span>
+<span class="i0">And life from day to day an empty dream.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Another man there was, a Swabian priest,</span>
+<span class="i0">Who knew the maladies of man and beast,</span>
+<span class="i0">And what things helped them; he the stone still sought</span>
+<span class="i0">Whereby base metal into gold is brought,</span>
+<span class="i0">And strove to gain the precious draught, whereby</span>
+<span class="i0">Men live midst mortal men yet never die;</span>
+<span class="i0">Tales of the Kaiser Redbeard could he tell</span>
+<span class="i0">Who neither went to Heaven nor yet to Hell,</span>
+<span class="i0">When from that fight upon the Asian plain</span>
+<span class="i0">He vanished, but still lives to come again</span>
+<span class="i0">Men know not how or when; but I listening</span>
+<span class="i0">Unto this tale thought it a certain thing</span>
+<span class="i0">That in some hidden vale of Swithiod</span>
+<span class="i0">Across the golden pavement still he trod.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">But while our longing for such things so grew,</span>
+<span class="i0">And ever more and more we deemed them true,</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the land a pestilence there fell</span>
+<span class="i0">Unheard of yet in any chronicle,</span>
+<span class="i0">And, as the people died full fast of it,</span>
+<span class="i0">With these two men it chanced me once to sit,</span>
+<span class="i0">This learned squire whose name was Nicholas,</span>
+<span class="i0">And Swabian Laurence, as our manner was;</span>
+<span class="i0">For could we help it scarcely did we part</span>
+<span class="i0">From dawn to dusk: so heavy, sad at heart,</span>
+<span class="i0">We from the castle-yard beheld the bay</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon that ne'er-to-be-forgotten day,</span>
+<span class="i0">Little we said amidst that dreary mood,</span>
+<span class="i0">And certes nought that we could say was good.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">It was a bright September afternoon,</span>
+<span class="i0">The parched-up beech-trees would be yellowing soon</span>
+<span class="i0">The yellow flowers grown deeper with the sun</span>
+<span class="i0">Were letting fall their petals one by one;</span>
+<span class="i0">No wind there was, a haze was gathering o'er</span>
+<span class="i0">The furthest bound of the faint yellow shore;</span>
+<span class="i0">And in the oily waters of the bay</span>
+<span class="i0">Scarce moving aught some fisher-cobles lay,</span>
+<span class="i0">And all seemed peace; and had been peace indeed</span>
+<span class="i0">But that we young men of our life had need,</span>
+<span class="i0">And to our listening ears a sound was borne</span>
+<span class="i0">That made the sunlight wretched and forlorn&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;The heavy tolling of the minster bell&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">And nigher yet a tinkling sound did tell</span>
+<span class="i0">That through the streets they bore our Saviour Christ</span>
+<span class="i0">By dying lips in anguish to be kissed.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">At last spoke Nicholas, "How long shall we</span>
+<span class="i0">Abide here, looking forth into the sea</span>
+<span class="i0">Expecting when our turn shall come to die?</span>
+<span class="i0">Fair fellows, will ye come with me and try</span>
+<span class="i0">Now at our worst that long-desired quest,</span>
+<span class="i0">Now&mdash;when our worst is death, and life our best."</span>
+<span class="i2">"Nay, but thou know'st," I said, "that I but wait</span>
+<span class="i0">The coming of some man, the turn of fate,</span>
+<span class="i0">To make this voyage&mdash;but I die meanwhile,</span>
+<span class="i0">For I am poor, though my blood be not vile,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor yet for all his lore doth Laurence hold</span>
+<span class="i0">Within his crucibles aught like to gold;</span>
+<span class="i0">And what hast thou, whose father driven forth</span>
+<span class="i0">By Charles of Blois, found shelter in the North?</span>
+<span class="i0">But little riches as I needs must deem."</span>
+<span class="i2">"Well," said he, "things are better than they seem,</span>
+<span class="i0">For 'neath my bed an iron chest I have</span>
+<span class="i0">That holdeth things I have made shift to save</span>
+<span class="i0">E'en for this end; moreover, hark to this,</span>
+<span class="i0">In the next firth a fair long ship there is</span>
+<span class="i0">Well victualled, ready even now for sea,</span>
+<span class="i0">And I may say it 'longeth unto me;</span>
+<span class="i0">Since Marcus Erling, late its owner, lies</span>
+<span class="i0">Dead at the end of many miseries,</span>
+<span class="i0">And little Kirstin, as thou well mayst know,</span>
+<span class="i0">Would be content throughout the world to go</span>
+<span class="i0">If I but took her hand, and now still more</span>
+<span class="i0">Hath heart to leave this poor death-stricken shore.</span>
+<span class="i0">Therefore my gold shall buy us Bordeaux swords</span>
+<span class="i0">And Bordeaux wine as we go oceanwards.</span>
+<span class="i2">"What say ye, will ye go with me to-night,</span>
+<span class="i0">Setting your faces to undreamed delight,</span>
+<span class="i0">Turning your backs unto this troublous hell,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or is the time too short to say farewell?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"Not so," I said, "rather would I depart</span>
+<span class="i0">Now while thou speakest, never has my heart</span>
+<span class="i0">Been set on anything within this land."</span>
+<span class="i2">Then said the Swabian, "Let us now take hand</span>
+<span class="i0">And swear to follow evermore this quest</span>
+<span class="i0">Till death or life have set our hearts at rest."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">So with joined hands we swore, and Nicholas said,</span>
+<span class="i0">"To-night, fair friends, be ye apparelled</span>
+<span class="i0">To leave this land, bring all the arms ye can</span>
+<span class="i0">And such men as ye trust, my own good man</span>
+<span class="i0">Guards the small postern looking towards St. Bride,</span>
+<span class="i0">And good it were ye should not be espied,</span>
+<span class="i0">Since mayhap freely ye should not go hence,</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou Rolf in special, for this pestilence</span>
+<span class="i0">Makes all men hard and cruel, nor are they</span>
+<span class="i0">Willing that folk should 'scape if they must stay:</span>
+<span class="i0">Be wise; I bid you for a while farewell,</span>
+<span class="i0">Leave ye this stronghold when St. Peter's bell</span>
+<span class="i0">Strikes midnight, all will surely then be still,</span>
+<span class="i0">And I will bide you at King Tryggve's hill</span>
+<span class="i0">Outside the city gates."</span>
+<span class="i8">Each went his way</span>
+<span class="i0">Therewith, and I the remnant of that day</span>
+<span class="i0">Gained for the quest three men that I deemed true,</span>
+<span class="i0">And did such other things as I must do,</span>
+<span class="i0">And still was ever listening for the chime</span>
+<span class="i0">Half maddened by the lazy lapse of time,</span>
+<span class="i0">Yea, scarce I thought indeed that I should live</span>
+<span class="i0">Till the great tower the joyful sound should give</span>
+<span class="i0">That set us free: and so the hours went past,</span>
+<span class="i0">Till startled by the echoing clang at last</span>
+<span class="i0">That told of midnight, armed from head to heel</span>
+<span class="i0">Down to the open postern did I steal,</span>
+<span class="i0">Bearing small wealth&mdash;this sword that yet hangs here</span>
+<span class="i0">Worn thin and narrow with so many a year,</span>
+<span class="i0">My father's axe that from Byzantium,</span>
+<span class="i0">With some few gems my pouch yet held, had come,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nought else that shone with silver or with gold.</span>
+<span class="i2">But by the postern gate could I behold</span>
+<span class="i0">Laurence the priest all armed as if for war,</span>
+<span class="i0">From off the town-wall, having some small store</span>
+<span class="i0">Of arms and furs and raiment: then once more</span>
+<span class="i0">I turned, and saw the autumn moonlight fall</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the new-built bastions of the wall,</span>
+<span class="i0">Strange with black shadow and grey flood of light,</span>
+<span class="i0">And further off I saw the lead shine bright</span>
+<span class="i0">On tower and turret-roof against the sky,</span>
+<span class="i0">And looking down I saw the old town lie</span>
+<span class="i0">Black in the shade of the o'er-hanging hill,</span>
+<span class="i0">Stricken with death, and dreary, but all still</span>
+<span class="i0">Until it reached the water of the bay,</span>
+<span class="i0">That in the dead night smote against the quay</span>
+<span class="i0">Not all unheard, though there was little wind.</span>
+<span class="i0">But as I turned to leave the place behind,</span>
+<span class="i0">The wind's light sound, the slowly falling swell,</span>
+<span class="i0">Were hushed at once by that shrill-tinkling bell,</span>
+<span class="i0">That in that stillness jarring on mine ears,</span>
+<span class="i0">With sudden jangle checked the rising tears,</span>
+<span class="i0">And now the freshness of the open sea</span>
+<span class="i0">Seemed ease and joy and very life to me.</span>
+<span class="i2">So greeting my new mates with little sound,</span>
+<span class="i0">We made good haste to reach King Tryggve's mound,</span>
+<span class="i0">And there the Breton Nicholas beheld,</span>
+<span class="i0">Who by the hand fair Kirstin Erling held,</span>
+<span class="i0">And round about them twenty men there stood,</span>
+<span class="i0">Of whom the more part on the holy rood</span>
+<span class="i0">Were sworn till death to follow up the quest,</span>
+<span class="i0">And Kirstin was the mistress of the rest.</span>
+<span class="i2">Again betwixt us was there little speech,</span>
+<span class="i0">But swiftly did we set on toward the beach,</span>
+<span class="i0">And coming there our keel, the Fighting Man,</span>
+<span class="i0">We boarded, and the long oars out we ran,</span>
+<span class="i0">And swept from out the firth, and sped so well</span>
+<span class="i0">That scarcely could we hear St. Peter's bell</span>
+<span class="i0">Toll one, although the light wind blew from land;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then hoisting sail southward we 'gan to stand,</span>
+<span class="i0">And much I joyed beneath the moon to see</span>
+<span class="i0">The lessening land that might have been to me</span>
+<span class="i0">A kindly giver of wife, child, and friend,</span>
+<span class="i0">And happy life, or at the worser end</span>
+<span class="i0">A quiet grave till doomsday rend the earth.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Night passed, day dawned, and we grew full of mirth</span>
+<span class="i0">As with the ever-rising morning wind</span>
+<span class="i0">Still further lay our threatened death behind,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or so we thought: some eighty men we were,</span>
+<span class="i0">Of whom but fifty knew the shipman's gear,</span>
+<span class="i0">The rest were uplanders; midst such of these</span>
+<span class="i0">As knew not of our quest, with promises</span>
+<span class="i0">Went Nicholas dealing florins round about,</span>
+<span class="i0">With still a fresh tale for each new man's doubt,</span>
+<span class="i0">Till all were fairly won or seemed to be</span>
+<span class="i0">To that strange desperate voyage o'er the sea.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+<h2><a name="OGIER_THE_DANE" id="OGIER_THE_DANE"></a>OGIER THE DANE.</h2>
+
+<h3>ARGUMENT.</h3>
+
+<p>When Ogier was born, six fay ladies came to the cradle where he lay, and
+gave him various gifts, as to be brave and happy and the like; but the
+sixth gave him to be her love when he should have lived long in the
+world: so Ogier grew up and became the greatest of knights, and at last,
+after many years, fell into the hands of that fay, and with her, as the
+story tells, he lives now, though he returned once to the world, as is
+shown in the process of this tale.</p>
+
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Within some Danish city by the sea,</span>
+<span class="i0">Whose name, changed now, is all unknown to me,</span>
+<span class="i0">Great mourning was there one fair summer eve,</span>
+<span class="i0">Because the angels, bidden to receive</span>
+<span class="i0">The fair Queen's lovely soul in Paradise,</span>
+<span class="i0">Had done their bidding, and in royal guise</span>
+<span class="i0">Her helpless body, once the prize of love,</span>
+<span class="i0">Unable now for fear or hope to move,</span>
+<span class="i0">Lay underneath the golden canopy;</span>
+<span class="i0">And bowed down by unkingly misery</span>
+<span class="i0">The King sat by it, and not far away,</span>
+<span class="i0">Within the chamber a fair man-child lay,</span>
+<span class="i0">His mother's bane, the king that was to be,</span>
+<span class="i0">Not witting yet of any royalty,</span>
+<span class="i0">Harmless and loved, although so new to life.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Calm the June evening was, no sign of strife</span>
+<span class="i0">The clear sky showed, no storm grew round the sun,</span>
+<span class="i0">Unhappy that his day of bliss was done;</span>
+<span class="i0">Dumb was the sea, and if the beech-wood stirred,</span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas with the nestling of the grey-winged bird</span>
+<span class="i0">Midst its thick leaves; and though the nightingale</span>
+<span class="i0">Her ancient, hapless sorrow must bewail,</span>
+<span class="i0">No more of woe there seemed in her song</span>
+<span class="i0">Than such as doth to lovers' words belong,</span>
+<span class="i0">Because their love is still unsatisfied.</span>
+<span class="i2">But to the King, on that sweet eventide,</span>
+<span class="i0">No earth there seemed, no heaven when earth was gone;</span>
+<span class="i0">No help, no God! but lonely pain alone;</span>
+<span class="i0">And he, midst unreal shadows, seemed to sit</span>
+<span class="i0">Himself the very heart and soul of it.</span>
+<span class="i0">But round the cradle of the new-born child</span>
+<span class="i0">The nurses now the weary time beguiled</span>
+<span class="i0">With stories of the just departed Queen;</span>
+<span class="i0">And how, amid the heathen folk first seen,</span>
+<span class="i0">She had been won to love and godliness;</span>
+<span class="i0">And as they spoke, e'en midst his dull distress,</span>
+<span class="i0">An eager whisper now and then would smite</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the King's ear, of some past delight,</span>
+<span class="i0">Some once familiar name, and he would raise</span>
+<span class="i0">His weary head, and on the speaker gaze</span>
+<span class="i0">Like one about to speak, but soon again</span>
+<span class="i0">Would drop his head and be alone with pain,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor think of these; who, silent in their turn,</span>
+<span class="i0">Would sit and watch the waxen tapers burn</span>
+<span class="i0">Amidst the dusk of the quick-gathering night,</span>
+<span class="i0">Until beneath the high stars' glimmering light,</span>
+<span class="i0">The fresh earth lay in colourless repose.</span>
+<span class="i2">So passed the night, and now and then one rose</span>
+<span class="i0">From out her place to do what might avail</span>
+<span class="i0">To still the new-born infant's fretful wail;</span>
+<span class="i0">Or through the softly-opened door there came</span>
+<span class="i0">Some nurse new waked, who, whispering low the name</span>
+<span class="i0">Of her whose turn was come, would take her place;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then toward the King would turn about her face</span>
+<span class="i0">And to her fellows whisper of the day,</span>
+<span class="i0">And tell again of her just past away.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">So passed the night, the moon arose and grew,</span>
+<span class="i0">From off the sea a little west-wind blew,</span>
+<span class="i0">Rustling the garden-leaves like sudden rain;</span>
+<span class="i0">And ere the moon had 'gun to fall again</span>
+<span class="i0">The wind grew cold, a change was in the sky,</span>
+<span class="i0">And in deep silence did the dawn draw nigh;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then from her place a nurse arose to light</span>
+<span class="i0">Fresh hallowed lights, for, dying with the night,</span>
+<span class="i0">The tapers round about the dead Queen were;</span>
+<span class="i0">But the King raised his head and 'gan to stare</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon her, as her sweeping gown did glide</span>
+<span class="i0">About the floor, that in the stillness cried</span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath her careful feet; and now as she</span>
+<span class="i0">Had lit the second candle carefully,</span>
+<span class="i0">And on its silver spike another one</span>
+<span class="i0">Was setting, through her body did there run</span>
+<span class="i0">A sudden tremor, and the hand was stayed</span>
+<span class="i0">That on the dainty painted wax was laid;</span>
+<span class="i0">Her eyelids fell down and she seemed to sleep,</span>
+<span class="i0">And o'er the staring King began to creep</span>
+<span class="i0">Sweet slumber too; the bitter lines of woe</span>
+<span class="i0">That drew his weary face did softer grow,</span>
+<span class="i0">His eyelids dropped, his arms fell to his side;</span>
+<span class="i0">And moveless in their places did abide</span>
+<span class="i0">The nursing women, held by some strong spell,</span>
+<span class="i0">E'en as they were, and utter silence fell</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the mournful, glimmering chamber fair.</span>
+<span class="i2">But now light footsteps coming up the stair,</span>
+<span class="i0">Smote on the deadly stillness, and the sound</span>
+<span class="i0">Of silken dresses trailing o'er the ground;</span>
+<span class="i0">And heavenly odours through the chamber passed,</span>
+<span class="i0">Unlike the scents that rose and lily cast</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the freshness of the dying night;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then nigher drew the sound of footsteps light</span>
+<span class="i0">Until the door swung open noiselessly&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">A mass of sunlit flowers there seemed to be</span>
+<span class="i0">Within the doorway, and but pale and wan</span>
+<span class="i0">The flame showed now that serveth mortal man,</span>
+<span class="i0">As one by one six seeming ladies passed</span>
+<span class="i0">Into the room, and o'er its sorrow cast</span>
+<span class="i0">That thoughtless sense of joy bewildering,</span>
+<span class="i0">That kisses youthful hearts amidst of spring;</span>
+<span class="i0">Crowned were they, in such glorious raiment clad,</span>
+<span class="i0">As yet no merchant of the world has had</span>
+<span class="i0">Within his coffers; yet those crowns seemed fair</span>
+<span class="i0">Only because they kissed their odorous hair,</span>
+<span class="i0">And all that flowery raiment was but blessed</span>
+<span class="i0">By those fair bodies that its splendour pressed.</span>
+<span class="i2">Now to the cradle from that glorious band,</span>
+<span class="i0">A woman passed, and laid a tender hand</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the babe, and gently drew aside</span>
+<span class="i0">The swathings soft that did his body hide;</span>
+<span class="i0">And, seeing him so fair and great, she smiled,</span>
+<span class="i0">And stooped, and kissed him, saying, "O noble child,</span>
+<span class="i0">Have thou a gift from Gloriande this day;</span>
+<span class="i0">For to the time when life shall pass away</span>
+<span class="i0">From this dear heart, no fear of death or shame,</span>
+<span class="i0">No weariness of good shall foul thy name."</span>
+<span class="i2">So saying, to her sisters she returned;</span>
+<span class="i0">And one came forth, upon whose brow there burned</span>
+<span class="i0">A crown of rubies, and whose heaving breast</span>
+<span class="i0">With happy rings a golden hauberk pressed;</span>
+<span class="i0">She took the babe, and somewhat frowning said,</span>
+<span class="i0">"This gift I give, that till thy limbs are laid</span>
+<span class="i0">At rest for ever, to thine honoured life</span>
+<span class="i0">There never shall be lacking war and strife,</span>
+<span class="i0">That thou a long-enduring name mayst win,</span>
+<span class="i0">And by thy deeds, good pardon for thy sin."</span>
+<span class="i2">With that another, who, unseen, meanwhile</span>
+<span class="i0">Had drawn anigh, said with a joyous smile,</span>
+<span class="i0">"And this forgotten gift to thee I give,</span>
+<span class="i0">That while amidst the turmoil thou dost live,</span>
+<span class="i0">Still shalt thou win the game, and unto thee</span>
+<span class="i0">Defeat and shame but idle words shall be."</span>
+<span class="i2">Then back they turned, and therewithal, the fourth</span>
+<span class="i0">Said, "Take this gift for what it may be worth</span>
+<span class="i0">For that is mine to give; lo, thou shalt be</span>
+<span class="i0">Gentle of speech, and in all courtesy</span>
+<span class="i0">The first of men: a little gift this is,</span>
+<span class="i0">After these promises of fame and bliss."</span>
+<span class="i2">Then toward the babe the fifth fair woman went;</span>
+<span class="i0">Grey-eyed she was, and simple, with eyes bent</span>
+<span class="i0">Down on the floor, parted her red lips were,</span>
+<span class="i0">And o'er her sweet face marvellously fair</span>
+<span class="i0">Oft would the colour spread full suddenly;</span>
+<span class="i0">Clad in a dainty gown and thin was she,</span>
+<span class="i0">For some green summer of the fay-land dight,</span>
+<span class="i0">Tripping she went, and laid her fingers light</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the child, and said, "O little one,</span>
+<span class="i0">As long as thou shalt look upon the sun</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall women long for thee; take heed to this</span>
+<span class="i0">And give them what thou canst of love and bliss."</span>
+<span class="i2">Then, blushing for her words, therefrom she past,</span>
+<span class="i0">And by the cradle stood the sixth and last,</span>
+<span class="i0">The fairest of them all; awhile she gazed</span>
+<span class="i0">Down on the child, and then her hand she raised,</span>
+<span class="i0">And made the one side of her bosom bare;</span>
+<span class="i0">"Ogier," she said, "if this be foul or fair</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou know'st not now, but when thine earthly life</span>
+<span class="i0">Is drunk out to the dregs, and war and strife</span>
+<span class="i0">Have yielded thee whatever joy they may,</span>
+<span class="i0">Thine head upon this bosom shalt thou lay;</span>
+<span class="i0">And then, despite of knowledge or of God,</span>
+<span class="i0">Will we be glad upon the flowery sod</span>
+<span class="i0">Within the happy country where I dwell:</span>
+<span class="i0">Ogier, my love that is to be, farewell!"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">She turned, and even as they came they passed</span>
+<span class="i0">From out the place, and reached the gate at last</span>
+<span class="i0">That oped before their feet, and speedily</span>
+<span class="i0">They gained the edges of the murmuring sea,</span>
+<span class="i0">And as they stood in silence, gazing there</span>
+<span class="i0">Out to the west, they vanished into air,</span>
+<span class="i0">I know not how, nor whereto they returned.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">But mixed with twilight in the chamber burned</span>
+<span class="i0">The flickering candles, and those dreary folk,</span>
+<span class="i0">Unlike to sleepers, from their trance awoke,</span>
+<span class="i0">But nought of what had happed meanwhile they knew.</span>
+<span class="i0">Through the half-opened casements now there blew</span>
+<span class="i0">A sweet fresh air, that of the flowers and sea</span>
+<span class="i0">Mingled together, smelt deliciously,</span>
+<span class="i0">And from the unseen sun the spreading light</span>
+<span class="i0">Began to make the fair June blossoms bright,</span>
+<span class="i0">And midst their weary woe uprose the sun,</span>
+<span class="i0">And thus has Ogier's noble life begun.</span>
+</div></div>
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hope is our life, when first our life grows clear;</span>
+<span class="i0">Hope and delight, scarce crossed by lines of fear,</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet the day comes when fain we would not hope,</span>
+<span class="i0">But forasmuch as we with life must cope,</span>
+<span class="i0">Struggling with this and that, and who knows why?</span>
+<span class="i0">Hope will not give us up to certainty,</span>
+<span class="i0">But still must bide with us: and with this man,</span>
+<span class="i0">Whose life amid such promises began</span>
+<span class="i0">Great things she wrought; but now the time has come</span>
+<span class="i0">When he no more on earth may have his home.</span>
+<span class="i2">Great things he suffered, great delights he had,</span>
+<span class="i0">Unto great kings he gave good deeds for bad;</span>
+<span class="i0">He ruled o'er kingdoms where his name no more</span>
+<span class="i0">Is had in memory, and on many a shore</span>
+<span class="i0">He left his sweat and blood to win a name</span>
+<span class="i0">Passing the bounds of earthly creatures' fame.</span>
+<span class="i0">A love he won and lost, a well-loved son</span>
+<span class="i0">Whose little day of promise soon was done:</span>
+<span class="i0">A tender wife he had, that he must leave</span>
+<span class="i0">Before his heart her love could well receive;</span>
+<span class="i0">Those promised gifts, that on his careless head</span>
+<span class="i0">In those first hours of his fair life were shed</span>
+<span class="i0">He took unwitting, and unwitting spent,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor gave himself to grief and discontent</span>
+<span class="i0">Because he saw the end a-drawing nigh.</span>
+<span class="i2">Where is he now? in what land must he die,</span>
+<span class="i0">To leave an empty name to us on earth?</span>
+<span class="i0">A tale half true, to cast across our mirth</span>
+<span class="i0">Some pensive thoughts of life that might have been;</span>
+<span class="i0">Where is he now, that all this life has seen?</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Behold, another eve I bid you see</span>
+<span class="i0">Than that calm eve of his nativity;</span>
+<span class="i0">The sun is setting in the west, the sky</span>
+<span class="i0">Is clear and hard, and no clouds come anigh</span>
+<span class="i0">The golden orb, but further off they lie,</span>
+<span class="i0">Steel-grey and black with edges red as blood,</span>
+<span class="i0">And underneath them is the weltering flood</span>
+<span class="i0">Of some huge sea, whose tumbling hills, as they</span>
+<span class="i0">Turn restless sides about, are black or grey,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or green, or glittering with the golden flame;</span>
+<span class="i0">The wind has fallen now, but still the same</span>
+<span class="i0">The mighty army moves, as if to drown</span>
+<span class="i0">This lone, bare rock, whose shear scarped sides of brown</span>
+<span class="i0">Cast off the weight of waves in clouds of spray.</span>
+<span class="i2">Alas! what ships upon an evil day</span>
+<span class="i0">Bent over to the wind in this ill sea?</span>
+<span class="i0">What navy, whose rent bones lie wretchedly</span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath these cliffs? a mighty one it was,</span>
+<span class="i0">A fearful storm to bring such things to pass.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">This is the loadstone rock; no armament</span>
+<span class="i0">Of warring nations, in their madness bent</span>
+<span class="i0">Their course this way; no merchant wittingly</span>
+<span class="i0">Has steered his keel unto this luckless sea;</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon no shipman's card its name is writ,</span>
+<span class="i0">Though worn-out mariners will speak of it</span>
+<span class="i0">Within the ingle on the winter's night,</span>
+<span class="i0">When all within is warm and safe and bright,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the wind howls without: but 'gainst their will</span>
+<span class="i0">Are some folk driven here, and then all skill</span>
+<span class="i0">Against this evil rock is vain and nought,</span>
+<span class="i0">And unto death the shipmen soon are brought;</span>
+<span class="i0">For then the keel, as by a giant's hand,</span>
+<span class="i0">Is drawn unto that mockery of a land,</span>
+<span class="i0">And presently unto its sides doth cleave;</span>
+<span class="i0">When if they 'scape swift death, yet none may leave</span>
+<span class="i0">The narrow limits of that barren isle,</span>
+<span class="i0">And thus are slain by famine in a while</span>
+<span class="i0">Mocked, as they say, by night with images</span>
+<span class="i0">Of noble castles among groves of trees,</span>
+<span class="i0">By day with sounds of merry minstrelsy.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">The sun sinks now below this hopeless sea,</span>
+<span class="i0">The clouds are gone, and all the sky is bright;</span>
+<span class="i0">The moon is rising o'er the growing night,</span>
+<span class="i0">And by its light may ye behold the bones</span>
+<span class="i0">Of generations of these luckless ones</span>
+<span class="i0">Scattered about the rock; but nigh the sea</span>
+<span class="i0">Sits one alive, who uncomplainingly</span>
+<span class="i0">Awaits his death. White-haired is he and old,</span>
+<span class="i0">Arrayed in royal raiment, bright with gold,</span>
+<span class="i0">But tarnished with the waves and rough salt air;</span>
+<span class="i0">Huge is he, of a noble face and fair,</span>
+<span class="i0">As for an ancient man, though toil and eld</span>
+<span class="i0">Furrow the cheeks that ladies once beheld</span>
+<span class="i0">With melting hearts&mdash;Nay, listen, for he speaks!</span>
+<span class="i2">"God, thou hast made me strong! nigh seven weeks</span>
+<span class="i0">Have passed since from the wreck we haled our store,</span>
+<span class="i0">And five long days well told, have now passed o'er</span>
+<span class="i0">Since my last fellow died, with my last bread</span>
+<span class="i0">Between his teeth, and yet I am not dead.</span>
+<span class="i0">Yea, but for this I had been strong enow</span>
+<span class="i0">In some last bloody field my sword to show.</span>
+<span class="i0">What matter? soon will all be past and done,</span>
+<span class="i0">Where'er I died I must have died alone:</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet, Caraheu, a good death had it been</span>
+<span class="i0">Dying, thy face above me to have seen,</span>
+<span class="i0">And heard my banner flapping in the wind,</span>
+<span class="i0">Then, though my memory had not left thy mind,</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet hope and fear would not have vexed thee more</span>
+<span class="i0">When thou hadst known that everything was o'er;</span>
+<span class="i0">But now thou waitest, still expecting me,</span>
+<span class="i0">Whose sail shall never speck thy bright blue sea.</span>
+<span class="i2">"And thou, Clarice, the merchants thou mayst call,</span>
+<span class="i0">To tell thee tales within thy pictured hall,</span>
+<span class="i0">But never shall they tell true tales of me:</span>
+<span class="i0">Whatever sails the Kentish hills may see</span>
+<span class="i0">Swept by the flood-tide toward thy well-walled town,</span>
+<span class="i0">No more on my sails shall they look adown.</span>
+<span class="i2">"Get thee another leader, Charlemaine,</span>
+<span class="i0">For thou shalt look to see my shield in vain,</span>
+<span class="i0">When in the fair fields of the Frankish land,</span>
+<span class="i0">Thick as the corn they tread, the heathen stand.</span>
+<span class="i2">"What matter? ye shall learn to live your lives;</span>
+<span class="i0">Husbands and children, other friends and wives,</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall wipe the tablets of your memory clean,</span>
+<span class="i0">And all shall be as I had never been.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"And now, O God, am I alone with Thee;</span>
+<span class="i0">A little thing indeed it seems to be</span>
+<span class="i0">To give this life up, since it needs must go</span>
+<span class="i0">Some time or other; now at last I know</span>
+<span class="i0">How foolishly men play upon the earth,</span>
+<span class="i0">When unto them a year of life seems worth</span>
+<span class="i0">Honour and friends, and these vague hopes and sweet</span>
+<span class="i0">That like real things my dying heart do greet,</span>
+<span class="i0">Unreal while living on the earth I trod,</span>
+<span class="i0">And but myself I knew no other god.</span>
+<span class="i0">Behold, I thank Thee that Thou sweet'nest thus</span>
+<span class="i0">This end, that I had thought most piteous,</span>
+<span class="i0">If of another I had heard it told."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">What man is this, who weak and worn and old,</span>
+<span class="i0">Gives up his life within that dreadful isle,</span>
+<span class="i0">And on the fearful coming death can smile?</span>
+<span class="i0">Alas! this man, so battered and outworn,</span>
+<span class="i0">Is none but he, who, on that summer morn,</span>
+<span class="i0">Received such promises of glorious life:</span>
+<span class="i0">Ogier the Dane this is, to whom all strife</span>
+<span class="i0">Was but as wine to stir awhile the blood,</span>
+<span class="i0">To whom all life, however hard, was good:</span>
+<span class="i0">This is the man, unmatched of heart and limb,</span>
+<span class="i0">Ogier the Dane, whose sight has waxed not dim</span>
+<span class="i0">For all the years that he on earth has dwelt;</span>
+<span class="i0">Ogier the Dane, that never fear has felt,</span>
+<span class="i0">Since he knew good from ill; Ogier the Dane,</span>
+<span class="i0">The heathen's dread, the evil-doer's bane.</span>
+</div></div>
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Bright</span> had the moon grown as his words were done,</span>
+<span class="i0">And no more was there memory of the sun</span>
+<span class="i0">Within the west, and he grew drowsy now,</span>
+<span class="i0">And somewhat smoother was his wrinkled brow</span>
+<span class="i0">As thought died out beneath the hand of sleep,</span>
+<span class="i0">And o'er his soul forgetfulness did creep,</span>
+<span class="i0">Hiding the image of swift-coming death;</span>
+<span class="i0">Until as peacefully he drew his breath</span>
+<span class="i0">As on that day, past for a hundred years,</span>
+<span class="i0">When, midst the nurse's quickly-falling tears,</span>
+<span class="i0">He fell asleep to his first lullaby.</span>
+<span class="i2">The night changed as he slept, white clouds and high</span>
+<span class="i0">Began about the lonely moon to close;</span>
+<span class="i0">And from the dark west a new wind arose,</span>
+<span class="i0">And with the sound of heavy-falling waves</span>
+<span class="i0">Mingled its pipe about the loadstone caves;</span>
+<span class="i0">But when the twinkling stars were hid away,</span>
+<span class="i0">And a faint light and broad, like dawn of day,</span>
+<span class="i0">The moon upon that dreary country shed,</span>
+<span class="i0">Ogier awoke, and lifting up his head</span>
+<span class="i0">And smiling, muttered, "Nay, no more again;</span>
+<span class="i0">Rather some pleasure new, some other pain,</span>
+<span class="i0">Unthought of both, some other form of strife;"</span>
+<span class="i0">For he had waked from dreams of his old life,</span>
+<span class="i0">And through St. Omer's archer-guarded gate</span>
+<span class="i0">Once more had seemed to pass, and saw the state</span>
+<span class="i0">Of that triumphant king; and still, though all</span>
+<span class="i0">Seemed changed, and folk by other names did call</span>
+<span class="i0">Faces he knew of old, yet none the less</span>
+<span class="i0">He seemed the same, and, midst that mightiness,</span>
+<span class="i0">Felt his own power, and grew the more athirst</span>
+<span class="i0">For coming glory, as of old, when first</span>
+<span class="i0">He stood before the face of Charlemaine,</span>
+<span class="i0">A helpless hostage with all life to gain.</span>
+<span class="i2">But now, awake, his worn face once more sank</span>
+<span class="i0">Between his hands, and, murmuring not, he drank</span>
+<span class="i0">The draught of death that must that thirst allay.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">But while he sat and waited for the day</span>
+<span class="i0">A sudden light across the bare rock streamed,</span>
+<span class="i0">Which at the first he noted not, but deemed</span>
+<span class="i0">The moon her fleecy veil had broken through;</span>
+<span class="i0">But ruddier indeed this new light grew</span>
+<span class="i0">Than were the moon's grey beams, and, therewithal,</span>
+<span class="i0">Soft far-off music on his ears did fall;</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet moved he not, but murmured, "This is death,</span>
+<span class="i0">An easy thing like this to yield my breath,</span>
+<span class="i0">Awake, yet dreaming, with no sounds of fear,</span>
+<span class="i0">No dreadful sights to tell me it is near;</span>
+<span class="i0">Yea, God, I thank Thee!" but with that last word</span>
+<span class="i0">It seemed to him that he his own name heard</span>
+<span class="i0">Whispered, as though the wind had borne it past;</span>
+<span class="i0">With that he gat unto his feet at last,</span>
+<span class="i0">But still awhile he stood, with sunken head,</span>
+<span class="i0">And in a low and trembling voice he said,</span>
+<span class="i0">"Lord, I am ready, whither shall I go?</span>
+<span class="i0">I pray Thee unto me some token show."</span>
+<span class="i0">And, as he said this, round about he turned,</span>
+<span class="i0">And in the east beheld a light that burned</span>
+<span class="i0">As bright as day; then, though his flesh might fear</span>
+<span class="i0">The coming change that he believed so near,</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet did his soul rejoice, for now he thought</span>
+<span class="i0">Unto the very heaven to be brought:</span>
+<span class="i0">And though he felt alive, deemed it might be</span>
+<span class="i0">That he in sleep had died full easily.</span>
+<span class="i2">Then toward that light did he begin to go,</span>
+<span class="i0">And still those strains he heard, far off and low,</span>
+<span class="i0">That grew no louder; still that bright light streamed</span>
+<span class="i0">Over the rocks, yet nothing brighter seemed,</span>
+<span class="i0">But like the light of some unseen bright flame</span>
+<span class="i0">Shone round about, until at last he came</span>
+<span class="i0">Unto the dreary islet's other shore,</span>
+<span class="i0">And then the minstrelsy he heard no more,</span>
+<span class="i0">And softer seemed the strange light unto him;</span>
+<span class="i0">But yet or ever it had grown quite dim,</span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath its waning light could he behold</span>
+<span class="i0">A mighty palace set about with gold,</span>
+<span class="i0">Above green meads and groves of summer trees</span>
+<span class="i0">Far-off across the welter of the seas;</span>
+<span class="i0">But, as he gazed, it faded from his sight,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the grey hidden moon's diffused soft light,</span>
+<span class="i0">Which soothly was but darkness to him now,</span>
+<span class="i0">His sea-girt island prison did but show.</span>
+<span class="i2">But o'er the sea he still gazed wistfully,</span>
+<span class="i0">And said, "Alas! and when will this go by</span>
+<span class="i0">And leave my soul in peace? must I still dream</span>
+<span class="i0">Of life that once so dear a thing did seem,</span>
+<span class="i0">That, when I wake, death may the bitterer be?</span>
+<span class="i0">Here will I sit until he come to me,</span>
+<span class="i0">And hide mine eyes and think upon my sin,</span>
+<span class="i0">That so a little calm I yet may win</span>
+<span class="i0">Before I stand within the awful place."</span>
+<span class="i2">Then down he sat and covered up his face,</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet therewithal his trouble could not hide,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor waiting thus for death could he abide,</span>
+<span class="i0">For, though he knew it not, the yearning pain</span>
+<span class="i0">Of hope of life had touched his soul again&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">If he could live awhile, if he could live!</span>
+<span class="i0">The mighty being, who once was wont to give</span>
+<span class="i0">The gift of life to many a trembling man;</span>
+<span class="i0">Who did his own will since his life began;</span>
+<span class="i0">Who feared not aught, but strong and great and free</span>
+<span class="i0">Still cast aside the thought of what might be;</span>
+<span class="i0">Must all this then be lost, and with no will,</span>
+<span class="i0">Powerless and blind, must he some fate fulfil,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor know what he is doing any more?</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Soon he arose and paced along the shore,</span>
+<span class="i0">And gazed out seaward for the blessed light;</span>
+<span class="i0">But nought he saw except the old sad sight,</span>
+<span class="i0">The ceaseless tumbling of the billows grey,</span>
+<span class="i0">The white upspringing of the spurts of spray</span>
+<span class="i0">Amidst that mass of timbers, the rent bones</span>
+<span class="i0">Of the sea-houses of the hapless ones</span>
+<span class="i0">Once cast like him upon this deadly isle.</span>
+<span class="i2">He stopped his pacing in a little while,</span>
+<span class="i0">And clenched his mighty hands, and set his teeth,</span>
+<span class="i0">And gazing at the ruin underneath,</span>
+<span class="i0">He swung from off the bare cliff's jagged brow,</span>
+<span class="i0">And on some slippery ledge he wavered now,</span>
+<span class="i0">Without a hand-hold, and now stoutly clung</span>
+<span class="i0">With hands alone, and o'er the welter hung,</span>
+<span class="i0">Not caring aught if thus his life should end;</span>
+<span class="i0">But safely midst all this did he descend</span>
+<span class="i0">The dreadful cliff, and since no beach was there,</span>
+<span class="i0">But from the depths the rock rose stark and bare,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor crumbled aught beneath the hammering sea,</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the wrecks he stood unsteadily.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">But now, amid the clamour of the waves,</span>
+<span class="i0">And washing to-and-fro of beams and staves,</span>
+<span class="i0">Dizzy with hunger, dreamy with distress,</span>
+<span class="i0">And all those days of fear and loneliness,</span>
+<span class="i0">The ocean's tumult seemed the battle's roar,</span>
+<span class="i0">His heart grew hot, as when in days of yore</span>
+<span class="i0">He heard the cymbals clash amid the crowd</span>
+<span class="i0">Of dusky faces; now he shouted loud,</span>
+<span class="i0">And from crushed beam to beam began to leap,</span>
+<span class="i0">And yet his footing somehow did he keep</span>
+<span class="i0">Amidst their tossing, and indeed the sea</span>
+<span class="i0">Was somewhat sunk upon the island's lee.</span>
+<span class="i0">So quickly on from wreck to wreck he passed,</span>
+<span class="i0">And reached the outer line of wrecks at last,</span>
+<span class="i0">And there a moment stood unsteadily,</span>
+<span class="i0">Amid the drift of spray that hurried by,</span>
+<span class="i0">And drew Courtain his sword from out its sheath,</span>
+<span class="i0">And poised himself to meet the coming death,</span>
+<span class="i0">Still looking out to sea; but as he gazed,</span>
+<span class="i0">And once or twice his doubtful feet he raised</span>
+<span class="i0">To take the final plunge, that heavenly strain</span>
+<span class="i0">Over the washing waves he heard again,</span>
+<span class="i0">And from the dimness something bright he saw</span>
+<span class="i0">Across the waste of waters towards him draw;</span>
+<span class="i0">And hidden now, now raised aloft, at last</span>
+<span class="i0">Unto his very feet a boat was cast,</span>
+<span class="i0">Gilded inside and out, and well arrayed</span>
+<span class="i0">With cushions soft; far fitter to have weighed</span>
+<span class="i0">From some sweet garden on the shallow Seine,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or in a reach of green Thames to have lain,</span>
+<span class="i0">Than struggle with that huge confus&egrave;d sea;</span>
+<span class="i0">But Ogier gazed upon it doubtfully</span>
+<span class="i0">One moment, and then, sheathing Courtain, said,</span>
+<span class="i0">"What tales are these about the newly dead</span>
+<span class="i0">The heathen told? what matter, let all pass;</span>
+<span class="i0">This moment as one dead indeed I was,</span>
+<span class="i0">And this must be what I have got to do,</span>
+<span class="i0">I yet perchance may light on something new</span>
+<span class="i0">Before I die; though yet perchance this keel</span>
+<span class="i0">Unto the wondrous mass of charmed steel</span>
+<span class="i0">Is drawn as others." With that word he leapt</span>
+<span class="i0">Into the boat, and o'er the cushions crept</span>
+<span class="i0">From stem to stern, but found no rudder there,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor any oars, nor were the cushions fair</span>
+<span class="i0">Made wet by any dashing of the sea.</span>
+<span class="i2">Now while he pondered how these things could be,</span>
+<span class="i0">The boat began to move therefrom at last,</span>
+<span class="i0">But over him a drowsiness was cast,</span>
+<span class="i0">And as o'er tumbling hills the skiff did pass,</span>
+<span class="i0">He clean forgot his death and where he was.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">At last he woke up to a sunny day,</span>
+<span class="i0">And, looking round, saw that his shallop lay</span>
+<span class="i0">Moored at the edge of some fair tideless sea</span>
+<span class="i0">Unto an overhanging thick-leaved tree,</span>
+<span class="i0">Where in the green waves did the low bank dip</span>
+<span class="i0">Its fresh and green grass-covered daisied lip;</span>
+<span class="i0">But Ogier looking thence no more could see</span>
+<span class="i0">That sad abode of death and misery,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor aught but wide and empty ocean, grey</span>
+<span class="i0">With gathering haze, for now it neared midday;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then from the golden cushions did he rise,</span>
+<span class="i0">And wondering still if this were Paradise</span>
+<span class="i0">He stepped ashore, but drew Courtain his sword</span>
+<span class="i0">And muttered therewithal a holy word.</span>
+<span class="i2">Fair was the place, as though amidst of May,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor did the brown birds fear the sunny day,</span>
+<span class="i0">For with their quivering song the air was sweet;</span>
+<span class="i0">Thick grew the field-flowers underneath his feet,</span>
+<span class="i0">And on his head the blossoms down did rain,</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet mid these fair things slowly and with pain</span>
+<span class="i0">He 'gan to go, yea, even when his foot</span>
+<span class="i0">First touched the flowery sod, to his heart's root</span>
+<span class="i0">A coldness seemed to strike, and now each limb</span>
+<span class="i0">Was growing stiff, his eyes waxed bleared and dim,</span>
+<span class="i0">And all his stored-up memory 'gan to fail,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor yet would his once mighty heart avail</span>
+<span class="i0">For lamentations o'er his changed lot;</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet urged by some desire, he knew not what,</span>
+<span class="i0">Along a little path 'twixt hedges sweet,</span>
+<span class="i0">Drawn sword in hand, he dragged his faltering feet,</span>
+<span class="i0">For what then seemed to him a weary way,</span>
+<span class="i0">Whereon his steps he needs must often stay</span>
+<span class="i0">And lean upon the mighty well-worn sword</span>
+<span class="i0">That in those hands, grown old, for king or lord</span>
+<span class="i0">Had small respect in glorious days long past.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">But still he crept along, and at the last</span>
+<span class="i0">Came to a gilded wicket, and through this</span>
+<span class="i0">Entered a garden fit for utmost bliss,</span>
+<span class="i0">If that might last which needs must soon go by:</span>
+<span class="i0">There 'gainst a tree he leaned, and with a sigh</span>
+<span class="i0">He said, "O God, a sinner I have been,</span>
+<span class="i0">And good it is that I these things have seen</span>
+<span class="i0">Before I meet what Thou hast set apart</span>
+<span class="i0">To cleanse the earthly folly from my heart;</span>
+<span class="i0">But who within this garden now can dwell</span>
+<span class="i0">Wherein guilt first upon the world befell?"</span>
+<span class="i2">A little further yet he staggered on,</span>
+<span class="i0">Till to a fountain-side at last he won,</span>
+<span class="i0">O'er which two white-thorns their sweet blossoms shed,</span>
+<span class="i0">There he sank down, and laid his weary head</span>
+<span class="i0">Beside the mossy roots, and in a while</span>
+<span class="i0">He slept, and dreamed himself within the isle;</span>
+<span class="i0">That splashing fount the weary sea did seem,</span>
+<span class="i0">And in his dream the fair place but a dream;</span>
+<span class="i0">But when again to feebleness he woke</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon his ears that heavenly music broke,</span>
+<span class="i0">Not faint or far as in the isle it was,</span>
+<span class="i0">But e'en as though the minstrels now did pass</span>
+<span class="i0">Anigh his resting-place; then fallen in doubt,</span>
+<span class="i0">E'en as he might, he rose and gazed about,</span>
+<span class="i0">Leaning against the hawthorn stem with pain;</span>
+<span class="i0">And yet his straining gaze was but in vain,</span>
+<span class="i0">Death stole so fast upon him, and no more</span>
+<span class="i0">Could he behold the blossoms as before,</span>
+<span class="i0">No more the trees seemed rooted to the ground,</span>
+<span class="i0">A heavy mist seemed gathering all around,</span>
+<span class="i0">And in its heart some bright thing seemed to be,</span>
+<span class="i0">And round his head there breathed deliciously</span>
+<span class="i0">Sweet odours, and that music never ceased.</span>
+<span class="i0">But as the weight of Death's strong hand increased</span>
+<span class="i0">Again he sank adown, and Courtain's noise</span>
+<span class="i0">Within the scabbard seemed a farewell voice</span>
+<span class="i0">Sent from the world he loved so well of old,</span>
+<span class="i0">And all his life was as a story told,</span>
+<span class="i0">And as he thought thereof he 'gan to smile</span>
+<span class="i0">E'en as a child asleep, but in a while</span>
+<span class="i0">It was as though he slept, and sleeping dreamed,</span>
+<span class="i0">For in his half-closed eyes a glory gleamed,</span>
+<span class="i0">As though from some sweet face and golden hair,</span>
+<span class="i0">And on his breast were laid soft hands and fair,</span>
+<span class="i0">And a sweet voice was ringing in his ears,</span>
+<span class="i0">Broken as if with flow of joyous tears;</span>
+<span class="i2">"Ogier, sweet friend, hast thou not tarried long?</span>
+<span class="i0">Alas! thine hundred years of strife and wrong!"</span>
+<span class="i0">Then he found voice to say, "Alas! dear Lord,</span>
+<span class="i0">Too long, too long; and yet one little word</span>
+<span class="i0">Right many a year agone had brought me here."</span>
+<span class="i0">Then to his face that face was drawn anear,</span>
+<span class="i0">He felt his head raised up and gently laid</span>
+<span class="i0">On some kind knee, again the sweet voice said,</span>
+<span class="i0">"Nay, Ogier, nay, not yet, not yet, dear friend!</span>
+<span class="i0">Who knoweth when our linked life shall end,</span>
+<span class="i0">Since thou art come unto mine arms at last,</span>
+<span class="i0">And all the turmoil of the world is past?</span>
+<span class="i0">Why do I linger ere I see thy face</span>
+<span class="i0">As I desired it in that mourning place</span>
+<span class="i0">So many years ago&mdash;so many years,</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou knewest not thy love and all her fears?"</span>
+<span class="i2">"Alas!" he said, "what mockery is this</span>
+<span class="i0">That thou wilt speak to me of earthly bliss?</span>
+<span class="i0">No longer can I think upon the earth,</span>
+<span class="i0">Have I not done with all its grief and mirth?</span>
+<span class="i0">Yes, I was Ogier once, but if my love</span>
+<span class="i0">Should come once more my dying heart to move,</span>
+<span class="i0">Then must she come from 'neath the milk-white walls</span>
+<span class="i0">Whereon to-day the hawthorn blossom falls</span>
+<span class="i0">Outside St. Omer's&mdash;art thou she? her name</span>
+<span class="i0">I could remember once mid death and fame</span>
+<span class="i0">Is clean forgotten now; but yesterday,</span>
+<span class="i0">Meseems, our son, upon her bosom lay:</span>
+<span class="i0">Baldwin the fair&mdash;what hast thou done with him</span>
+<span class="i0">Since Charlot slew him? Ah, mine eyes wax dim;</span>
+<span class="i0">Woman, forbear! wilt thou not let me die?</span>
+<span class="i0">Did I forget thee in the days gone by?</span>
+<span class="i0">Then let me die, that we may meet again!"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">He tried to move from her, but all in vain,</span>
+<span class="i0">For life had well-nigh left him, but withal</span>
+<span class="i0">He felt a kiss upon his forehead fall,</span>
+<span class="i0">And could not speak; he felt slim fingers fair</span>
+<span class="i0">Move to his mighty sword-worn hand, and there</span>
+<span class="i0">Set on some ring, and still he could not speak,</span>
+<span class="i0">And once more sleep weighed down his eyelids weak.</span>
+</div></div>
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But, ah! what land was this he woke unto?</span>
+<span class="i0">What joy was this that filled his heart anew?</span>
+<span class="i0">Had he then gained the very Paradise?</span>
+<span class="i0">Trembling, he durst not at the first arise,</span>
+<span class="i0">Although no more he felt the pain of eld,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor durst he raise his eyes that now beheld</span>
+<span class="i0">Beside him the white flowers and blades of grass;</span>
+<span class="i0">He durst not speak, lest he some monster was.</span>
+<span class="i2">But while he lay and hoped, that gentle voice</span>
+<span class="i0">Once more he heard; "Yea, thou mayst well rejoice!</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou livest still, my sweet, thou livest still,</span>
+<span class="i0">Apart from every earthly fear and ill;</span>
+<span class="i0">Wilt thou not love me, who have wrought thee this,</span>
+<span class="i0">That I like thee may live in double bliss?"</span>
+<span class="i2">Then Ogier rose up, nowise like to one</span>
+<span class="i0">Whose span of earthly life is nigh outrun,</span>
+<span class="i0">But as he might have risen in old days</span>
+<span class="i0">To see the spears cleave the fresh morning haze;</span>
+<span class="i0">But, looking round, he saw no change there was</span>
+<span class="i0">In the fair place wherethrough he first did pass,</span>
+<span class="i0">Though all, grown clear and joyous to his eyes,</span>
+<span class="i0">Now looked no worse than very Paradise;</span>
+<span class="i0">Behind him were the thorns, the fountain fair</span>
+<span class="i0">Still sent its glittering stream forth into air,</span>
+<span class="i0">And by its basin a fair woman stood,</span>
+<span class="i0">And as their eyes met his renew&egrave;d blood</span>
+<span class="i0">Rushed to his face; with unused thoughts and sweet</span>
+<span class="i0">And hurrying hopes, his heart began to beat.</span>
+<span class="i2">The fairest of all creatures did she seem;</span>
+<span class="i0">So fresh and delicate you well might deem</span>
+<span class="i0">That scarce for eighteen summers had she blessed</span>
+<span class="i0">The happy, longing world; yet, for the rest,</span>
+<span class="i0">Within her glorious eyes such wisdom dwelt</span>
+<span class="i0">A child before her had the wise man felt,</span>
+<span class="i0">And with the pleasure of a thousand years</span>
+<span class="i0">Her lips were fashioned to move joy or tears</span>
+<span class="i0">Among the longing folk where she might dwell,</span>
+<span class="i0">To give at last the kiss unspeakable.</span>
+<span class="i2">In such wise was she clad as folk may be,</span>
+<span class="i0">Who, for no shame of their humanity,</span>
+<span class="i0">For no sad changes of the imperfect year,</span>
+<span class="i0">Rather for added beauty, raiment wear;</span>
+<span class="i0">For, as the heat-foretelling grey-blue haze</span>
+<span class="i0">Veils the green flowery morn of late May-days,</span>
+<span class="i0">Her raiment veiled her; where the bands did meet</span>
+<span class="i0">That bound the sandals to her dainty feet,</span>
+<span class="i0">Gems gleamed; a fresh rose-wreath embraced her head,</span>
+<span class="i0">And on her breast there lay a ruby red.</span>
+<span class="i2">So with a supplicating look she turned</span>
+<span class="i0">To meet the flame that in his own eyes burned,</span>
+<span class="i0">And held out both her white arms lovingly,</span>
+<span class="i0">As though to greet him as he drew anigh.</span>
+<span class="i0">Stammering he said, "Who art thou? how am I</span>
+<span class="i0">So cured of all my evils suddenly,</span>
+<span class="i0">That certainly I felt no mightier, when,</span>
+<span class="i0">Amid the backward rush of beaten men,</span>
+<span class="i0">About me drooped the axe-torn Oriflamme?</span>
+<span class="i0">Alas! I fear that in some dream I am."</span>
+<span class="i2">"Ogier," she said, "draw near, perchance it is</span>
+<span class="i0">That such a name God gives unto our bliss;</span>
+<span class="i0">I know not, but if thou art such an one</span>
+<span class="i0">As I must deem, all days beneath the sun</span>
+<span class="i0">That thou hast had, shall be but dreams indeed</span>
+<span class="i0">To those that I have given thee at thy need.</span>
+<span class="i0">For many years ago beside the sea</span>
+<span class="i0">When thou wert born, I plighted troth with thee:</span>
+<span class="i0">Come near then, and make mirrors of mine eyes,</span>
+<span class="i0">That thou mayest see what these my mysteries</span>
+<span class="i0">Have wrought in thee; surely but thirty years,</span>
+<span class="i0">Passed amidst joy, thy new born body bears,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor while thou art with me, and on this shore</span>
+<span class="i0">Art still full-fed of love, shalt thou seem more.</span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, love, come nigher, and let me take thine hand,</span>
+<span class="i0">The hope and fear of many a warring land,</span>
+<span class="i0">And I will show thee wherein lies the spell,</span>
+<span class="i0">Whereby this happy change upon thee fell."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Like a shy youth before some royal love,</span>
+<span class="i0">Close up to that fair woman did he move,</span>
+<span class="i0">And their hands met; yet to his changed voice</span>
+<span class="i0">He dared not trust; nay, scarcely could rejoice</span>
+<span class="i0">E'en when her balmy breath he 'gan to feel,</span>
+<span class="i0">And felt strange sweetness o'er his spirit steal</span>
+<span class="i0">As her light raiment, driven by the wind,</span>
+<span class="i0">Swept round him, and, bewildered and half-blind,</span>
+<span class="i0">His lips the treasure of her lips did press,</span>
+<span class="i0">And round him clung her perfect loveliness.</span>
+<span class="i2">For one sweet moment thus they stood, and then</span>
+<span class="i0">She drew herself from out his arms again,</span>
+<span class="i0">And panting, lovelier for her love, did stand</span>
+<span class="i0">Apart awhile, then took her lover's hand,</span>
+<span class="i0">And, in a trembling voice, made haste to say,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i2">"O Ogier, when thou earnest here to-day,</span>
+<span class="i0">I feared indeed, that in my sport with fate,</span>
+<span class="i0">I might have seen thee e'en one day too late,</span>
+<span class="i0">Before this ring thy finger should embrace;</span>
+<span class="i0">Behold it, love, and thy keen eyes may trace</span>
+<span class="i0">Faint figures wrought upon the ruddy gold;</span>
+<span class="i0">My father dying gave it me, nor told</span>
+<span class="i0">The manner of its making, but I know</span>
+<span class="i0">That it can make thee e'en as thou art now</span>
+<span class="i0">Despite the laws of God&mdash;shrink not from me</span>
+<span class="i0">Because I give an impious gift to thee&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">Has not God made me also, who do this?</span>
+<span class="i0">But I, who longed to share with thee my bliss,</span>
+<span class="i0">Am of the fays, and live their changeless life,</span>
+<span class="i0">And, like the gods of old, I see the strife</span>
+<span class="i0">That moves the world, unmoved if so I will;</span>
+<span class="i0">For we the fruit, that teaches good and ill,</span>
+<span class="i0">Have never touched like you of Adam's race;</span>
+<span class="i0">And while thou dwellest with me in this place</span>
+<span class="i0">Thus shalt thou be&mdash;ah, and thou deem'st, indeed,</span>
+<span class="i0">That thou shalt gain thereby no happy meed</span>
+<span class="i0">Reft of the world's joys? nor canst understand</span>
+<span class="i0">How thou art come into a happy land?&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">Love, in thy world the priests of heaven still sing,</span>
+<span class="i0">And tell thee of it many a joyous thing;</span>
+<span class="i0">But think'st thou, bearing the world's joy and pain,</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou couldst live there? nay, nay, but born again</span>
+<span class="i0">Thus wouldst be happy with the angels' bliss;</span>
+<span class="i0">And so with us no otherwise it is,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor hast thou cast thine old life quite away</span>
+<span class="i0">Even as yet, though that shall be to-day.</span>
+<span class="i2">"But for the love and country thou hast won,</span>
+<span class="i0">Know thou, that thou art come to Avallon,</span>
+<span class="i0">That is both thine and mine; and as for me,</span>
+<span class="i0">Morgan le Fay men call me commonly</span>
+<span class="i0">Within the world, but fairer names than this</span>
+<span class="i0">I have for thee and me, 'twixt kiss and kiss."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Ah, what was this? and was it all in vain,</span>
+<span class="i0">That she had brought him here this life to gain?</span>
+<span class="i0">For, ere her speech was done, like one turned blind</span>
+<span class="i0">He watched the kisses of the wandering wind</span>
+<span class="i0">Within her raiment, or as some one sees</span>
+<span class="i0">The very best of well-wrought images</span>
+<span class="i0">When he is blind with grief, did he behold</span>
+<span class="i0">The wandering tresses of her locks of gold</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon her shoulders; and no more he pressed</span>
+<span class="i0">The hand that in his own hand lay at rest:</span>
+<span class="i0">His eyes, grown dull with changing memories,</span>
+<span class="i0">Could make no answer to her glorious eyes:</span>
+<span class="i0">Cold waxed his heart, and weary and distraught,</span>
+<span class="i0">With many a cast-by, hateful, dreary thought,</span>
+<span class="i0">Unfinished in the old days; and withal</span>
+<span class="i0">He needs must think of what might chance to fall</span>
+<span class="i0">In this life new-begun; and good and bad</span>
+<span class="i0">Tormented him, because as yet he had</span>
+<span class="i0">A worldly heart within his frame made new,</span>
+<span class="i0">And to the deeds that he was wont to do</span>
+<span class="i0">Did his desires still turn. But she a while</span>
+<span class="i0">Stood gazing at him with a doubtful smile,</span>
+<span class="i0">And let his hand fall down; but suddenly</span>
+<span class="i0">Sounded sweet music from some close nearby,</span>
+<span class="i0">And then she spoke again: "Come, love, with me,</span>
+<span class="i0">That thou thy new life and delights mayst see."</span>
+<span class="i0">And gently with that word she led him thence,</span>
+<span class="i0">And though upon him now there fell a sense</span>
+<span class="i0">Of dreamy and unreal bewilderment,</span>
+<span class="i0">As hand in hand through that green place they went,</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet therewithal a strain of tender love</span>
+<span class="i0">A little yet his restless heart did move.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">So through the whispering trees they came at last</span>
+<span class="i0">To where a wondrous house a shadow cast</span>
+<span class="i0">Across the flowers, and o'er the daisied grass</span>
+<span class="i0">Before it, crowds of lovely folk did pass,</span>
+<span class="i0">Playing about in carelessness and mirth,</span>
+<span class="i0">Unshadowed by the doubtful deeds of earth;</span>
+<span class="i0">And from the midst a band of fair girls came,</span>
+<span class="i0">With flowers and music, greeting him by name,</span>
+<span class="i0">And praising him; but ever like a dream</span>
+<span class="i0">He could not break, did all to Ogier seem,</span>
+<span class="i0">And he his old world did the more desire,</span>
+<span class="i0">For in his heart still burned unquenched the fire,</span>
+<span class="i0">That through the world of old so bright did burn:</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet was he fain that kindness to return,</span>
+<span class="i0">And from the depth of his full heart he sighed.</span>
+<span class="i2">Then toward the house the lovely Queen did guide</span>
+<span class="i0">His listless steps, and seemed to take no thought</span>
+<span class="i0">Of knitted brow or wandering eyes distraught,</span>
+<span class="i0">But still with kind love lighting up her face</span>
+<span class="i0">She led him through the door of that fair place,</span>
+<span class="i0">While round about them did the damsels press;</span>
+<span class="i0">And he was moved by all that loveliness</span>
+<span class="i0">As one might be, who, lying half asleep</span>
+<span class="i0">In the May morning, notes the light wind sweep</span>
+<span class="i0">Over the tulip-beds: no more to him</span>
+<span class="i0">Were gleaming eyes, red lips, and bodies slim,</span>
+<span class="i0">Amidst that dream, although the first surprise</span>
+<span class="i0">Of hurried love wherewith the Queen's sweet eyes</span>
+<span class="i0">Had smitten him, still in his heart did stir.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">And so at last he came, led on by her</span>
+<span class="i0">Into a hall wherein a fair throne was,</span>
+<span class="i0">And hand in hand thereto the twain did pass;</span>
+<span class="i0">And there she bade him sit, and when alone</span>
+<span class="i0">He took his place upon the double throne,</span>
+<span class="i0">She cast herself before him on her knees,</span>
+<span class="i0">Embracing his, and greatly did increase</span>
+<span class="i0">The shame and love that vexed his troubled heart:</span>
+<span class="i0">But now a line of girls the crowd did part,</span>
+<span class="i0">Lovelier than all, and Ogier could behold</span>
+<span class="i0">One in their midst who bore a crown of gold</span>
+<span class="i0">Within her slender hands and delicate;</span>
+<span class="i0">She, drawing nigh, beside the throne did wait</span>
+<span class="i0">Until the Queen arose and took the crown,</span>
+<span class="i0">Who then to Ogier's lips did stoop adown</span>
+<span class="i0">And kissed him, and said, "Ogier, what were worth</span>
+<span class="i0">Thy miserable days of strife on earth,</span>
+<span class="i0">That on their ashes still thine eyes are turned?"</span>
+<span class="i2">Then, as she spoke these words, his changed heart burned</span>
+<span class="i0">With sudden memories, and thereto had he</span>
+<span class="i0">Made answer, but she raised up suddenly</span>
+<span class="i0">The crown she held and set it on his head,</span>
+<span class="i0">"Ogier," she cried, "those troublous days are dead;</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou wert dead with them also, but for me;</span>
+<span class="i0">Turn unto her who wrought these things for thee!"</span>
+<span class="i2">Then, as he felt her touch, a mighty wave</span>
+<span class="i0">Of love swept o'er his soul, as though the grave</span>
+<span class="i0">Did really hold his body; from his seat</span>
+<span class="i0">He rose to cast himself before her feet;</span>
+<span class="i0">But she clung round him, and in close embrace</span>
+<span class="i0">The twain were locked amidst that thronging place.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Thenceforth new life indeed has Ogier won,</span>
+<span class="i0">And in the happy land of Avallon</span>
+<span class="i0">Quick glide the years o'er his unchanging head;</span>
+<span class="i0">There saw he many men the world thought dead,</span>
+<span class="i0">Living like him in sweet forgetfulness</span>
+<span class="i0">Of all the troubles that did once oppress</span>
+<span class="i0">Their vainly-struggling lives&mdash;ah, how can I</span>
+<span class="i0">Tell of their joy as though I had been nigh?</span>
+<span class="i0">Suffice it that no fear of death they knew,</span>
+<span class="i0">That there no talk there was of false or true,</span>
+<span class="i0">Of right or wrong, for traitors came not there;</span>
+<span class="i0">That everything was bright and soft and fair,</span>
+<span class="i0">And yet they wearied not for any change,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor unto them did constancy seem strange.</span>
+<span class="i0">Love knew they, but its pain they never had,</span>
+<span class="i0">But with each other's joy were they made glad;</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor were their lives wasted by hidden fire,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor knew they of the unfulfilled desire</span>
+<span class="i0">That turns to ashes all the joys of earth,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor knew they yearning love amidst the dearth</span>
+<span class="i0">Of kind and loving hearts to spend it on,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor dreamed or discontent when all was won;</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor need they struggle after wealth and fame;</span>
+<span class="i0">Still was the calm flow of their lives the same,</span>
+<span class="i0">And yet, I say, they wearied not of it&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">So did the promised days by Ogier flit.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Think</span> that a hundred years have now passed by,</span>
+<span class="i0">Since ye beheld Ogier lie down to die</span>
+<span class="i0">Beside the fountain; think that now ye are</span>
+<span class="i0">In France, made dangerous with wasting war;</span>
+<span class="i0">In Paris, where about each guarded gate,</span>
+<span class="i0">Gathered in knots, the anxious people wait,</span>
+<span class="i0">And press around each new-come man to learn</span>
+<span class="i0">If Harfleur now the pagan wasters burn,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or if the Rouen folk can keep their chain,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or Pont de l'Arche unburnt still guards the Seine?</span>
+<span class="i0">Or if 'tis true that Andelys succour wants?</span>
+<span class="i0">That Vernon's folk are fleeing east to Mantes?</span>
+<span class="i0">When will they come? or rather is it true</span>
+<span class="i0">That a great band the Constable o'erthrew</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the marshes of the lower Seine,</span>
+<span class="i0">And that their long ships, turning back again,</span>
+<span class="i0">Caught by the high-raised waters of the bore</span>
+<span class="i0">Were driven here and there and cast ashore?</span>
+<span class="i2">Such questions did they ask, and, as fresh men</span>
+<span class="i0">Came hurrying in, they asked them o'er again,</span>
+<span class="i0">And from scared folk, or fools, or ignorant,</span>
+<span class="i0">Still got new lies, or tidings very scant.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">But now amidst these men at last came one,</span>
+<span class="i0">A little ere the setting of the sun,</span>
+<span class="i0">With two stout men behind him, armed right well,</span>
+<span class="i0">Who ever as they rode on, sooth to tell,</span>
+<span class="i0">With doubtful eyes upon their master stared,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or looked about like troubled men and scared.</span>
+<span class="i0">And he they served was noteworthy indeed;</span>
+<span class="i0">Of ancient fashion were his arms and weed,</span>
+<span class="i0">Rich past the wont of men in those sad times;</span>
+<span class="i0">His face was bronzed, as though by burning climes,</span>
+<span class="i0">But lovely as the image of a god</span>
+<span class="i0">Carved in the days before on earth Christ trod;</span>
+<span class="i0">But solemn were his eyes, and grey as glass,</span>
+<span class="i0">And like to ruddy gold his fine hair was:</span>
+<span class="i0">A mighty man he was, and taller far</span>
+<span class="i0">Than those who on that day must bear the war</span>
+<span class="i0">The pagans waged: he by the warders stayed</span>
+<span class="i0">Scarce looked on them, but straight their words obeyed</span>
+<span class="i0">And showed his pass; then, asked about his name</span>
+<span class="i0">And from what city of the world he came,</span>
+<span class="i0">Said, that men called him now the Ancient Knight,</span>
+<span class="i0">That he was come midst the king's men to fight</span>
+<span class="i0">From St. Omer's; and as he spoke, he gazed</span>
+<span class="i0">Down on the thronging street as one amazed,</span>
+<span class="i0">And answered no more to the questioning</span>
+<span class="i0">Of frightened folk of this or that sad thing;</span>
+<span class="i0">But, ere he passed on, turned about at last</span>
+<span class="i0">And on the wondering guard a strange look cast,</span>
+<span class="i0">And said, "St. Mary! do such men as ye</span>
+<span class="i0">Fight with the wasters from across the sea?</span>
+<span class="i0">Then, certes, are ye lost, however good</span>
+<span class="i0">Your hearts may be; not such were those who stood</span>
+<span class="i0">Beside the Hammer-bearer years agone."</span>
+<span class="i2">So said he, and as his fair armour shone</span>
+<span class="i0">With beauty of a time long passed away,</span>
+<span class="i0">So with the music of another day</span>
+<span class="i0">His deep voice thrilled the awe-struck, listening folk.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Yet from the crowd a mocking voice outbroke,</span>
+<span class="i0">That cried, "Be merry, masters, fear ye nought,</span>
+<span class="i0">Surely good succour to our side is brought;</span>
+<span class="i0">For here is Charlemaine come off his tomb</span>
+<span class="i0">To save his faithful city from its doom."</span>
+<span class="i2">"Yea," said another, "this is certain news,</span>
+<span class="i0">Surely ye know how all the carvers use</span>
+<span class="i0">To carve the dead man's image at the best,</span>
+<span class="i0">That guards the place where he may lie at rest;</span>
+<span class="i0">Wherefore this living image looks indeed,</span>
+<span class="i0">Spite of his ancient tongue and marvellous weed,</span>
+<span class="i0">To have but thirty summers."</span>
+<span class="i8">At the name</span>
+<span class="i0">Of Charlemaine, he turned to whence there came</span>
+<span class="i0">The mocking voice, and somewhat knit his brow,</span>
+<span class="i0">And seemed as he would speak, but scarce knew how;</span>
+<span class="i0">So with a half-sigh soon sank back again</span>
+<span class="i0">Into his dream, and shook his well-wrought rein,</span>
+<span class="i0">And silently went on upon his way.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">And this was Ogier: on what evil day</span>
+<span class="i0">Has he then stumbled, that he needs must come,</span>
+<span class="i0">Midst war and ravage, to the ancient home</span>
+<span class="i0">Of his desires? did he grow weary then,</span>
+<span class="i0">And wish to strive once more with foolish men</span>
+<span class="i0">For worthless things? or is fair Avallon</span>
+<span class="i0">Sunk in the sea, and all that glory gone?</span>
+<span class="i2">Nay, thus it happed&mdash;One day she came to him</span>
+<span class="i0">And said, "Ogier, thy name is waxen dim</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the world that thou rememberest not;</span>
+<span class="i0">The heathen men are thick on many a spot</span>
+<span class="i0">Thine eyes have seen, and which I love therefore;</span>
+<span class="i0">And God will give His wonted help no more.</span>
+<span class="i0">Wilt thou, then, help? canst thou have any mind</span>
+<span class="i0">To give thy banner once more to the wind?</span>
+<span class="i0">Since greater glory thou shalt win for this</span>
+<span class="i0">Than erst thou gatheredst ere thou cam'st to bliss:</span>
+<span class="i0">For men are dwindled both in heart and frame,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor holds the fair land any such a name</span>
+<span class="i0">As thine, when thou wert living midst thy peers:</span>
+<span class="i0">The world is worser for these hundred years."</span>
+<span class="i2">From his calm eyes there gleamed a little fire,</span>
+<span class="i0">And in his voice was something of desire,</span>
+<span class="i0">To see the land where he was used to be,</span>
+<span class="i0">As now he answered: "Nay, choose thou for me,</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou art the wisest; it is more than well</span>
+<span class="i0">Within this peaceful place with thee to dwell:</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor ill perchance in that old land to die,</span>
+<span class="i0">If, dying, I keep not the memory</span>
+<span class="i0">Of this fair life of ours." "Nay, nay," said she,</span>
+<span class="i0">"As to thy dying, that shall never be,</span>
+<span class="i0">Whiles that thou keep'st my ring&mdash;and now, behold,</span>
+<span class="i0">I take from thee thy charmed crown of gold,</span>
+<span class="i0">And thou wilt be the Ogier that thou wast</span>
+<span class="i0">Ere on the loadstone rock thy ship was cast:</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet thou shalt have thy youthful body still,</span>
+<span class="i0">And I will guard thy life from every ill."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">So was it done, and Ogier, armed right well,</span>
+<span class="i0">Sleeping, was borne away by some strong spell,</span>
+<span class="i0">And set upon the Flemish coast; and thence</span>
+<span class="i0">Turned to St. Omer's, with a doubtful sense</span>
+<span class="i0">Of being in some wild dream, the while he knew</span>
+<span class="i0">That great delight forgotten was his due,</span>
+<span class="i0">That all which there might hap was of small worth.</span>
+<span class="i2">So on he went, and sometimes unto mirth</span>
+<span class="i0">Did his attire move the country-folk,</span>
+<span class="i0">But oftener when strange speeches from him broke</span>
+<span class="i0">Concerning men and things for long years dead,</span>
+<span class="i0">He filled the listeners with great awe and dread;</span>
+<span class="i0">For in such wild times as these people were</span>
+<span class="i0">Are men soon moved to wonder and to fear.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Now through the streets of Paris did he ride,</span>
+<span class="i0">And at a certain hostel did abide</span>
+<span class="i0">Throughout that night, and ere he went next day</span>
+<span class="i0">He saw a book that on a table lay,</span>
+<span class="i0">And opening it 'gan read in lazy mood:</span>
+<span class="i0">But long before it in that place he stood,</span>
+<span class="i0">Noting nought else; for it did chronicle</span>
+<span class="i0">The deeds of men of old he knew right well,</span>
+<span class="i0">When they were living in the flesh with him:</span>
+<span class="i0">Yea, his own deeds he saw, grown strange and dim</span>
+<span class="i0">Already, and true stories mixed with lies,</span>
+<span class="i0">Until, with many thronging memories</span>
+<span class="i0">Of those old days, his heart was so oppressed,</span>
+<span class="i0">He 'gan to wish that he might lie at rest,</span>
+<span class="i0">Forgetting all things: for indeed by this</span>
+<span class="i0">Little remembrance had he of the bliss</span>
+<span class="i0">That wrapped his soul in peaceful Avallon.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">But his changed life he needs must carry on;</span>
+<span class="i0">For ye shall know the Queen was gathering men</span>
+<span class="i0">To send unto the good King, who as then</span>
+<span class="i0">In Rouen lay, beset by many a band</span>
+<span class="i0">Of those who carried terror through the land,</span>
+<span class="i0">And still by messengers for help he prayed:</span>
+<span class="i0">Therefore a mighty muster was being made,</span>
+<span class="i0">Of weak and strong, and brave and timorous,</span>
+<span class="i0">Before the Queen anigh her royal house.</span>
+<span class="i0">So thither on this morn did Ogier turn,</span>
+<span class="i0">Some certain news about the war to learn;</span>
+<span class="i0">And when he came at last into the square,</span>
+<span class="i0">And saw the ancient palace great and fair</span>
+<span class="i0">Rise up before him as in other days,</span>
+<span class="i0">And in the merry morn the bright sun's rays</span>
+<span class="i0">Glittering on gathering helms and moving spears,</span>
+<span class="i0">He 'gan to feel as in the long-past years,</span>
+<span class="i0">And his heart stirred within him. Now the Queen</span>
+<span class="i0">Came from within, right royally beseen,</span>
+<span class="i0">And took her seat beneath a canopy,</span>
+<span class="i0">With lords and captains of the war anigh;</span>
+<span class="i0">And as she came a mighty shout arose,</span>
+<span class="i0">And round about began the knights to close,</span>
+<span class="i0">Their oath of fealty there to swear anew,</span>
+<span class="i0">And learn what service they had got to do.</span>
+<span class="i0">But so it was, that some their shouts must stay</span>
+<span class="i0">To gaze at Ogier as he took his way</span>
+<span class="i0">Through the thronged place; and quickly too he gat</span>
+<span class="i0">Unto the place whereas the Lady sat,</span>
+<span class="i0">For men gave place unto him, fearing him:</span>
+<span class="i0">For not alone was he most huge of limb,</span>
+<span class="i0">And dangerous, but something in his face,</span>
+<span class="i0">As his calm eyes looked o'er the crowded place,</span>
+<span class="i0">Struck men with awe; and in the ancient days,</span>
+<span class="i0">When men might hope alive on gods to gaze,</span>
+<span class="i0">They would have thought, "The gods yet love our town</span>
+<span class="i0">And from the heavens have sent a great one down."</span>
+<span class="i2">Withal unto the throne he came so near,</span>
+<span class="i0">That he the Queen's sweet measured voice could hear;</span>
+<span class="i0">And swiftly now within him wrought the change</span>
+<span class="i0">That first he felt amid those faces strange;</span>
+<span class="i0">And his heart burned to taste the hurrying life</span>
+<span class="i0">With such desires, such changing sweetness rife.</span>
+<span class="i0">And yet, indeed, how should he live alone,</span>
+<span class="i0">Who in the old past days such friends had known?</span>
+<span class="i0">Then he began to think of Caraheu,</span>
+<span class="i0">Of Bellicent the fair, and once more knew</span>
+<span class="i0">The bitter pain of rent and ended love.</span>
+<span class="i0">But while with hope and vain regret he strove,</span>
+<span class="i0">He found none 'twixt him and the Queen's high seat,</span>
+<span class="i0">And, stepping forth, he knelt before her feet</span>
+<span class="i0">And took her hand to swear, as was the way</span>
+<span class="i0">Of doing fealty in that ancient day,</span>
+<span class="i0">And raised his eyes to hers; as fair was she</span>
+<span class="i0">As any woman of the world might be</span>
+<span class="i0">Full-limbed and tall, dark haired, from her deep eyes,</span>
+<span class="i0">The snare of fools, the ruin of the wise,</span>
+<span class="i0">Love looked unchecked; and now her dainty hand,</span>
+<span class="i0">The well-knit holder of the golden wand,</span>
+<span class="i0">Trembled in his, she cast her eyes adown,</span>
+<span class="i0">And her sweet brow was knitted to a frown,</span>
+<span class="i0">As he, the taker of such oaths of yore,</span>
+<span class="i0">Now unto her all due obedience swore,</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet gave himself no name; and now the Queen,</span>
+<span class="i0">Awed by his voice as other folk had been,</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet felt a trembling hope within her rise</span>
+<span class="i0">Too sweet to think of, and with love's surprise</span>
+<span class="i0">Her cheek grew pale; she said, "Thy style and name</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou tellest not, nor what land of thy fame</span>
+<span class="i0">Is glad; for, certes, some land must be glad,</span>
+<span class="i0">That in its bounds her house thy mother had."</span>
+<span class="i2">"Lady," he said, "from what far land I come</span>
+<span class="i0">I well might tell thee, but another home</span>
+<span class="i0">Have I long dwelt in, and its name have I</span>
+<span class="i0">Forgotten now, forgotten utterly</span>
+<span class="i0">Who were my fellows, and what deeds they did;</span>
+<span class="i0">Therefore, indeed, shall my first name be hid</span>
+<span class="i0">And my first country; call me on this day</span>
+<span class="i0">The Ancient Knight, and let me go my way."</span>
+<span class="i0">He rose withal, for she her fingers fair</span>
+<span class="i0">Had drawn aback, and on him 'gan to stare</span>
+<span class="i0">As one afeard; for something terrible</span>
+<span class="i0">Was in his speech, and that she knew right well,</span>
+<span class="i0">Who 'gan to love him, and to fear that she,</span>
+<span class="i0">Shut out by some strange deadly mystery,</span>
+<span class="i0">Should never gain from him an equal love;</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet, as from her high seat he 'gan to move,</span>
+<span class="i0">She said, "O Ancient Knight, come presently,</span>
+<span class="i0">When we have done this muster, unto me,</span>
+<span class="i0">And thou shalt have thy charge and due command</span>
+<span class="i0">For freeing from our foes this wretched land!"</span>
+<span class="i2">Then Ogier made his reverence and went,</span>
+<span class="i0">And somewhat could perceive of her intent;</span>
+<span class="i0">For in his heart life grew, and love with life</span>
+<span class="i0">Grew, and therewith, 'twixt love and fame, was strife.</span>
+<span class="i2">But, as he slowly gat him from the square,</span>
+<span class="i0">Gazing at all the people gathered there,</span>
+<span class="i0">A squire of the Queen's behind him came,</span>
+<span class="i0">And breathless, called him by his new-coined name,</span>
+<span class="i0">And bade him turn because the Queen now bade,</span>
+<span class="i0">Since by the muster long she might be stayed,</span>
+<span class="i0">That to the palace he should bring him straight,</span>
+<span class="i0">Midst sport and play her coming back to wait;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then Ogier turned, nought loath, and with him went,</span>
+<span class="i0">And to a postern-gate his steps he bent,</span>
+<span class="i0">That Ogier knew right well in days of old;</span>
+<span class="i0">Worn was it now, and the bright hues and gold</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the shields above, with lapse of days,</span>
+<span class="i0">Were faded much: but now did Ogier gaze</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the garden where he walked of yore,</span>
+<span class="i0">Holding the hands that he should see no more;</span>
+<span class="i0">For all was changed except the palace fair,</span>
+<span class="i0">That Charlemaine's own eyes had seen built there</span>
+<span class="i0">Ere Ogier knew him; there the squire did lead</span>
+<span class="i0">The Ancient Knight, who still took little heed</span>
+<span class="i0">Of all the things that by the way he said,</span>
+<span class="i0">For all his thoughts were on the days long dead.</span>
+<span class="i2">There in the painted hall he sat again,</span>
+<span class="i0">And 'neath the pictured eyes of Charlemaine</span>
+<span class="i0">He ate and drank, and felt it like a dream;</span>
+<span class="i0">And midst his growing longings yet might deem</span>
+<span class="i0">That he from sleep should wake up presently</span>
+<span class="i0">In some fair city on the Syrian sea,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or on the brown rocks of the loadstone isle.</span>
+<span class="i0">But fain to be alone, within a while</span>
+<span class="i0">He gat him to the garden, and there passed</span>
+<span class="i0">By wondering squires and damsels, till at last,</span>
+<span class="i0">Far from the merry folk who needs must play,</span>
+<span class="i0">If on the world were coming its last day,</span>
+<span class="i0">He sat him down, and through his mind there ran</span>
+<span class="i0">Faint thoughts of that day, when, outworn and wan,</span>
+<span class="i0">He lay down by the fountain-side to die.</span>
+<span class="i0">But when he strove to gain clear memory</span>
+<span class="i0">Of what had happed since on the isle he lay</span>
+<span class="i0">Waiting for death, a hopeless castaway,</span>
+<span class="i0">Thought failing him, would rather bring again</span>
+<span class="i0">His life among the peers of Charlemaine,</span>
+<span class="i0">And vex his soul with hapless memories;</span>
+<span class="i0">Until at last, worn out by thought of these,</span>
+<span class="i0">And hopeless striving to find what was true,</span>
+<span class="i0">And pondering on the deeds he had to do</span>
+<span class="i0">Ere he returned, whereto he could not tell,</span>
+<span class="i0">Sweet sleep upon his wearied spirit fell.</span>
+<span class="i0">And on the afternoon of that fair day,</span>
+<span class="i0">Forgetting all, beneath the trees he lay.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Meanwhile the Queen, affairs of state being done,</span>
+<span class="i0">Went through the gardens with one dame alone</span>
+<span class="i0">Seeking for Ogier, whom at last she found</span>
+<span class="i0">Laid sleeping on the daisy-sprinkled ground,</span>
+<span class="i0">Dreaming, I know not what, of other days.</span>
+<span class="i0">Then on him for a while the Queen did gaze,</span>
+<span class="i0">Drawing sweet poison from the lovely sight,</span>
+<span class="i0">Then to her fellow turned, "The ancient Knight&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">What means he by this word of his?" she said;</span>
+<span class="i0">"He were well mated with some lovely maid</span>
+<span class="i0">Just pondering on the late-heard name of love."</span>
+<span class="i2">"Softly, my lady, he begins to move,"</span>
+<span class="i0">Her fellow said, a woman old and grey;</span>
+<span class="i0">"Look now, his arms are of another day;</span>
+<span class="i0">None know him or his deeds; thy squire just said</span>
+<span class="i0">He asked about the state of men long dead;</span>
+<span class="i0">I fear what he may be; look, seest thou not</span>
+<span class="i0">That ring that on one finger he has got,</span>
+<span class="i0">Where figures strange upon the gold are wrought:</span>
+<span class="i0">God grant that he from hell has not been brought</span>
+<span class="i0">For our confusion, in this doleful war,</span>
+<span class="i0">Who surely in enough of trouble are</span>
+<span class="i0">Without such help;" then the Queen turned aside</span>
+<span class="i0">Awhile, her drawn and troubled face to hide,</span>
+<span class="i0">For lurking dread this speech within her stirred;</span>
+<span class="i0">But yet she said, "Thou sayest a foolish word,</span>
+<span class="i0">This man is come against our enemies</span>
+<span class="i0">To fight for us." Then down upon her knees</span>
+<span class="i0">Fell the old woman by the sleeping knight,</span>
+<span class="i0">And from his hand she drew with fingers light</span>
+<span class="i0">The wondrous ring, and scarce again could rise</span>
+<span class="i0">Ere 'neath the trembling Queen's bewildered eyes</span>
+<span class="i0">The change began; his golden hair turned white,</span>
+<span class="i0">His smooth cheek wrinkled, and his breathing light</span>
+<span class="i0">Was turned to troublous struggling for his breath,</span>
+<span class="i0">And on his shrunk lips lay the hand of death;</span>
+<span class="i0">And, scarce less pale than he, the trembling Queen</span>
+<span class="i0">Stood thinking on the beauty she had seen</span>
+<span class="i0">And longed for but a little while ago,</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet with her terror still her love did grow,</span>
+<span class="i0">And she began to weep as though she saw</span>
+<span class="i0">Her beauty e'en to such an ending draw.</span>
+<span class="i0">And 'neath her tears waking he oped his eyes,</span>
+<span class="i0">And strove to speak, but nought but gasping sighs</span>
+<span class="i0">His lips could utter; then he tried to reach</span>
+<span class="i0">His hand to them, as though he would beseech</span>
+<span class="i0">The gift of what was his: but all the while</span>
+<span class="i0">The crone gazed on them with an evil smile,</span>
+<span class="i0">Then holding toward the Queen that wondrous ring,</span>
+<span class="i0">She said, "Why weep'st thou? having this fair thing,</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou, losing nought the beauty that thou hast,</span>
+<span class="i0">May'st watch the vainly struggling world go past,</span>
+<span class="i0">Thyself unchanged." The Queen put forth her hand</span>
+<span class="i0">And took the ring, and there awhile did stand</span>
+<span class="i0">And strove to think of it, but still in her</span>
+<span class="i0">Such all-absorbing longings love did stir,</span>
+<span class="i0">So young she was, of death she could not think,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or what a cup eld gives to man to drink;</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet on her finger had she set the ring</span>
+<span class="i0">When now the life that hitherto did cling</span>
+<span class="i0">To Ogier's heart seemed fading quite away,</span>
+<span class="i0">And scarcely breathing with shut eyes he lay.</span>
+<span class="i0">Then, kneeling down, she murmured piteously,</span>
+<span class="i0">"Ah, wilt thou love me if I give it thee,</span>
+<span class="i0">And thou grow'st young again? what should I do</span>
+<span class="i0">If with the eyes thou thus shalt gain anew</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou shouldst look scorn on me?" But with that word</span>
+<span class="i0">The hedge behind her, by the west wind stirred,</span>
+<span class="i0">Cast fear into her heart of some one nigh,</span>
+<span class="i0">And therewith on his finger hastily</span>
+<span class="i0">She set the ring, then rose and stood apart</span>
+<span class="i0">A little way, and in her doubtful heart</span>
+<span class="i0">With love and fear was mixed desire of life.</span>
+<span class="i2">But standing so, a look with great scorn rife</span>
+<span class="i0">The elder woman, turning, cast on her,</span>
+<span class="i0">Pointing to Ogier, who began to stir;</span>
+<span class="i0">She looked, and all she erst saw now did seem</span>
+<span class="i0">To have been nothing but a hideous dream,</span>
+<span class="i0">As fair and young he rose from off the ground</span>
+<span class="i0">And cast a dazed and puzzled look around,</span>
+<span class="i0">Like one just waked from sleep in some strange place;</span>
+<span class="i0">But soon his grave eyes rested on her face,</span>
+<span class="i0">And turned yet graver seeing her so pale,</span>
+<span class="i0">And that her eyes were pregnant with some tale</span>
+<span class="i0">Of love and fear; she 'neath his eyes the while</span>
+<span class="i0">Forced her pale lips to semblance of a smile,</span>
+<span class="i0">And said, "O Ancient Knight, thou sleepest then?</span>
+<span class="i0">While through this poor land range the heathen men,</span>
+<span class="i0">Unmet of any but my King and Lord:</span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, let us see the deeds of thine old sword."</span>
+<span class="i2">"Queen," said he, "bid me then unto this work,</span>
+<span class="i0">And certes I behind no wall would lurk,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor send for succour, while a scanty folk</span>
+<span class="i0">Still followed after me to break the yoke:</span>
+<span class="i0">I pray thee grace for sleeping, and were fain</span>
+<span class="i0">That I might rather never sleep again</span>
+<span class="i0">Than have such wretched dreams as I e'en now</span>
+<span class="i0">Have waked from."</span>
+<span class="i8">Lovelier she seemed to grow</span>
+<span class="i0">Unto him as he spoke; fresh colour came</span>
+<span class="i0">Into her face, as though for some sweet shame,</span>
+<span class="i0">While she with tearful eyes beheld him so,</span>
+<span class="i0">That somewhat even must his burnt cheek glow,</span>
+<span class="i0">His heart beat faster. But again she said,</span>
+<span class="i0">"Nay, will dreams burden such a mighty head?</span>
+<span class="i0">Then may I too have pardon for a dream:</span>
+<span class="i0">Last night in sleep I saw thee, who didst seem</span>
+<span class="i0">To be the King of France; and thou and I</span>
+<span class="i0">Were sitting at some great festivity</span>
+<span class="i0">Within the many-peopled gold-hung place."</span>
+<span class="i2">The blush of shame was gone as on his face</span>
+<span class="i0">She gazed, and saw him read her meaning clear</span>
+<span class="i0">And knew that no cold words she had to fear,</span>
+<span class="i0">But rather that for softer speech he yearned.</span>
+<span class="i0">Therefore, with love alone her smooth cheek burned;</span>
+<span class="i0">Her parted lips were hungry for his kiss,</span>
+<span class="i0">She trembled at the near approaching bliss;</span>
+<span class="i2">Nathless, she checked her love a little while,</span>
+<span class="i0">Because she felt the old dame's curious smile</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon her, and she said, "O Ancient Knight,</span>
+<span class="i0">If I then read my last night's dream aright,</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou art come here our very help to be,</span>
+<span class="i0">Perchance to give my husband back to me;</span>
+<span class="i0">Come then, if thou this land art fain to save,</span>
+<span class="i0">And show the wisdom thou must surely have</span>
+<span class="i0">Unto my council; I will give thee then</span>
+<span class="i0">What charge I may among my valiant men;</span>
+<span class="i0">And certes thou wilt do so well herein,</span>
+<span class="i0">That, ere long, something greater shalt thou win:</span>
+<span class="i0">Come, then, deliverer of my throne and land,</span>
+<span class="i0">And let me touch for once thy mighty hand</span>
+<span class="i0">With these weak fingers."</span>
+<span class="i8">As she spoke, she met</span>
+<span class="i0">His eager hand, and all things did forget</span>
+<span class="i0">But for one moment, for too wise were they</span>
+<span class="i0">To cast the coming years of joy away;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then with her other hand her gown she raised</span>
+<span class="i0">And led him thence, and o'er her shoulder gazed</span>
+<span class="i0">At her old follower with a doubtful smile,</span>
+<span class="i0">As though to say, "Be wise, I know thy guile!"</span>
+<span class="i2">But slowly she behind the lovers walked,</span>
+<span class="i0">Muttering, "So be it! thou shalt not be balked</span>
+<span class="i0">Of thy desire; be merry! I am wise,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor will I rob thee of thy Paradise</span>
+<span class="i0">For any other than myself; and thou</span>
+<span class="i0">May'st even happen to have had enow</span>
+<span class="i0">Of this new love, before I get the ring,</span>
+<span class="i0">And I may work for thee no evil thing."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Now ye shall know that the old chronicle,</span>
+<span class="i0">Wherein I read all this, doth duly tell</span>
+<span class="i0">Of all the gallant deeds that Ogier did,</span>
+<span class="i0">There may ye read them; nor let me be chid</span>
+<span class="i0">If I therefore say little of these things,</span>
+<span class="i0">Because the thought of Avallon still clings</span>
+<span class="i0">Unto my heart, and scarcely can I bear</span>
+<span class="i0">To think of that long, dragging useless year,</span>
+<span class="i0">Through which, with dulled and glimmering memory,</span>
+<span class="i0">Ogier was grown content to live and die</span>
+<span class="i0">Like other men; but this I have to say,</span>
+<span class="i0">That in the council chamber on that day</span>
+<span class="i0">The Old Knight showed his wisdom well enow,</span>
+<span class="i0">While fainter still with love the Queen did grow</span>
+<span class="i0">Hearing his words, beholding his grey eyes</span>
+<span class="i0">Flashing with fire of warlike memories;</span>
+<span class="i0">Yea, at the last he seemed so wise indeed</span>
+<span class="i0">That she could give him now the charge, to lead</span>
+<span class="i0">One wing of the great army that set out</span>
+<span class="i0">From Paris' gates, midst many a wavering shout</span>
+<span class="i0">Midst trembling prayers, and unchecked wails and tears,</span>
+<span class="i0">And slender hopes and unresisted fears.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Now ere he went, upon his bed he lay,</span>
+<span class="i0">Newly awakened at the dawn of day,</span>
+<span class="i0">Gathering perplexed thoughts of many a thing,</span>
+<span class="i0">When, midst the carol that the birds did sing</span>
+<span class="i0">Unto the coming of the hopeful sun,</span>
+<span class="i0">He heard a sudden lovesome song begun</span>
+<span class="i0">'Twixt two young voices in the garden green,</span>
+<span class="i0">That seemed indeed the farewell of the Queen.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<br />
+<h2><span class="smcap">Song</span>.</h2>
+
+<h3>H&AElig;C.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2"><i>In the white-flowered hawthorn brake</i>,</span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Love, be merry for my sake</i>;</span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Twine the blossoms in my hair</i>,</span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Kiss me where I am most fair</i>&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Kiss me, love! for who knoweth</i></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>What thing cometh after death</i>?</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>ILLE.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2"><i>Nay, the garlanded gold hair</i></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Hides thee where thou art most fair</i>;</span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Hides the rose-tinged hills of snow</i>&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Ah, sweet love, I have thee now</i>!</span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Kiss me, love! for who knoweth</i></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>What thing cometh after death</i>?</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>H&AElig;C.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2"><i>Shall we weep for a dead day</i>,</span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Or set Sorrow in our way</i>?</span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Hidden by my golden hair</i>,</span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Wilt thou weep that sweet days wear</i>?</span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Kiss me, love! for who knoweth</i></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>What thing cometh after death</i>?</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>ILLE.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>Weep, O Love, the days that flit</i>,</span>
+<span class="i2"><i>Now, while I can feel thy breath</i>;</span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Then may I remember it</i></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>Sad and old, and near my death</i>.</span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Kiss me, love! for who knoweth</i></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>What thing cometh after death</i>?</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Soothed by the pleasure that the music brought</span>
+<span class="i0">And sweet desire, and vague and dreamy thought</span>
+<span class="i0">Of happiness it seemed to promise him,</span>
+<span class="i0">He lay and listened till his eyes grew dim,</span>
+<span class="i0">And o'er him 'gan forgetfulness to creep</span>
+<span class="i0">Till in the growing light he lay asleep,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor woke until the clanging trumpet-blast</span>
+<span class="i0">Had summoned him all thought away to cast:</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet one more joy of love indeed he had</span>
+<span class="i0">Ere with the battle's noise he was made glad;</span>
+<span class="i0">For, as on that May morning forth they rode</span>
+<span class="i0">And passed before the Queen's most fair abode,</span>
+<span class="i0">There at a window was she waiting them</span>
+<span class="i0">In fair attire with gold in every hem,</span>
+<span class="i0">And as the ancient Knight beneath her passed</span>
+<span class="i0">A wreath of flowering white-thorn down she cast,</span>
+<span class="i0">And looked farewell to him, and forth he set</span>
+<span class="i0">Thinking of all the pleasure he should get</span>
+<span class="i0">From love and war, forgetting Avallon</span>
+<span class="i0">And all that lovely life so lightly won;</span>
+<span class="i0">Yea, now indeed the earthly life o'erpast</span>
+<span class="i0">Ere on the loadstone rock his ship was cast</span>
+<span class="i0">Was waxing dim, nor yet at all he learned</span>
+<span class="i0">To 'scape the fire that erst his heart had burned.</span>
+<span class="i0">And he forgat his deeds, forgat his fame,</span>
+<span class="i0">Forgat the letters of his ancient name</span>
+<span class="i0">As one waked fully shall forget a dream,</span>
+<span class="i0">That once to him a wondrous tale did seem.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Now I, though writing here no chronicle</span>
+<span class="i0">E'en as I said, must nathless shortly tell</span>
+<span class="i0">That, ere the army Rouen's gates could gain</span>
+<span class="i0">By a broad arrow had the King been slain,</span>
+<span class="i0">And helpless now the wretched country lay</span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath the yoke, until the glorious day</span>
+<span class="i0">When Ogier fell at last upon the foe,</span>
+<span class="i0">And scattered them as helplessly as though</span>
+<span class="i0">They had been beaten men without a name:</span>
+<span class="i0">So when to Paris town once more he came</span>
+<span class="i0">Few folk the memory of the King did keep</span>
+<span class="i0">Within their hearts, and if the folk did weep</span>
+<span class="i0">At his returning, 'twas for joy indeed</span>
+<span class="i0">That such a man had risen at their need</span>
+<span class="i0">To work for them so great deliverance,</span>
+<span class="i0">And loud they called on him for King of France.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">But if the Queen's heart were the more a-flame</span>
+<span class="i0">For all that she had heard of his great fame,</span>
+<span class="i0">I know not; rather with some hidden dread</span>
+<span class="i0">Of coming fate, she heard her lord was dead,</span>
+<span class="i0">And her false dream seemed coming true at last,</span>
+<span class="i0">For the clear sky of love seemed overcast</span>
+<span class="i0">With clouds of God's great judgments, and the fear</span>
+<span class="i0">Of hate and final parting drawing near.</span>
+<span class="i2">So now when he before her throne did stand</span>
+<span class="i0">Amidst the throng as saviour of the land,</span>
+<span class="i0">And she her eyes to his kind eyes did raise,</span>
+<span class="i0">And there before all her own love must praise;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then did she fall a-weeping, and folk said,</span>
+<span class="i0">"See, how she sorrows for the newly dead!</span>
+<span class="i0">Amidst our joy she needs must think of him;</span>
+<span class="i0">Let be, full surely shall her grief wax dim</span>
+<span class="i0">And she shall wed again."</span>
+<span class="i8">So passed the year,</span>
+<span class="i0">While Ogier set himself the land to clear</span>
+<span class="i0">Of broken remnants of the heathen men,</span>
+<span class="i0">And at the last, when May-time came again,</span>
+<span class="i0">Must he be crowned King of the twice-saved land,</span>
+<span class="i0">And at the altar take the fair Queen's hand</span>
+<span class="i0">And wed her for his own. And now by this</span>
+<span class="i0">Had he forgotten clean the woe and bliss</span>
+<span class="i0">Of his old life, and still was he made glad</span>
+<span class="i0">As other men; and hopes and fears he had</span>
+<span class="i0">As others, and bethought him not at all</span>
+<span class="i0">Of what strange days upon him yet should fall</span>
+<span class="i0">When he should live and these again be dead.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Now drew the time round when he should be wed,</span>
+<span class="i0">And in his palace on his bed he lay</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the dawning of the very day:</span>
+<span class="i0">'Twixt sleep and waking was he, and could hear</span>
+<span class="i0">E'en at that hour, through the bright morn and clear,</span>
+<span class="i0">The hammering of the folk who toiled to make</span>
+<span class="i0">Some well-wrought stages for the pageant's sake,</span>
+<span class="i0">Though hardly yet the sparrows had begun</span>
+<span class="i0">To twitter o'er the coming of the sun,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor through the palace did a creature move.</span>
+<span class="i2">There in the sweet entanglement of love</span>
+<span class="i0">Midst languid thoughts of greater bliss he lay,</span>
+<span class="i0">Remembering no more of that other day</span>
+<span class="i0">Than the hot noon remembereth of the night,</span>
+<span class="i0">Than summer thinketh of the winter white.</span>
+<span class="i2">In that sweet hour he heard a voice that cried,</span>
+<span class="i0">"Ogier, Ogier!" then, opening his eyes wide,</span>
+<span class="i0">And rising on his elbow, gazed around,</span>
+<span class="i0">And strange to him and empty was the sound</span>
+<span class="i0">Of his own name; "Whom callest thou?" he said.</span>
+<span class="i0">"For I, the man who lies upon this bed,</span>
+<span class="i0">Am Charles of France, and shall be King to-day,</span>
+<span class="i0">But in a year that now is past away</span>
+<span class="i0">The Ancient Knight they called me: who is this,</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou callest Ogier, then, what deeds are his?</span>
+<span class="i0">And who art thou?" But at that word a sigh,</span>
+<span class="i0">As of one grieved, came from some place anigh</span>
+<span class="i0">His bed-side, and a soft voice spake again,</span>
+<span class="i0">"This Ogier once was great amongst great men;</span>
+<span class="i0">To Italy a helpless hostage led;</span>
+<span class="i0">He saved the King when the false Lombard fled,</span>
+<span class="i0">Bore forth the Oriflamme and gained the day;</span>
+<span class="i0">Charlot he brought back, whom men led away,</span>
+<span class="i0">And fought a day-long fight with Caraheu.</span>
+<span class="i0">The ravager of Rome his right hand slew;</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor did he fear the might of Charlemaine,</span>
+<span class="i0">Who for a dreary year beset in vain</span>
+<span class="i0">His lonely castle; yet at last caught then,</span>
+<span class="i0">And shut in hold, needs must he come again</span>
+<span class="i0">To give an unhoped great deliverance</span>
+<span class="i0">Unto the burdened helpless land of France:</span>
+<span class="i0">Denmark he gained thereafter, and he wore</span>
+<span class="i0">The crown of England drawn from trouble sore;</span>
+<span class="i0">At Tyre then he reigned, and Babylon</span>
+<span class="i0">With mighty deeds he from the foemen won;</span>
+<span class="i0">And when scarce aught could give him greater fame,</span>
+<span class="i0">He left the world still thinking on his name.</span>
+<span class="i2">"These things did Ogier, and these things didst thou,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor will I call thee by a new name now</span>
+<span class="i0">Since I have spoken words of love to thee&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">Ogier, Ogier, dost thou remember me,</span>
+<span class="i0">E'en if thou hast no thought of that past time</span>
+<span class="i0">Before thou earnest to our happy clime?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">As this was said, his mazed eyes saw indeed</span>
+<span class="i0">A lovely woman clad in dainty weed</span>
+<span class="i0">Beside his bed, and many a thought was stirred</span>
+<span class="i0">Within his heart by that last plaintive word,</span>
+<span class="i0">Though nought he said, but waited what should come.</span>
+<span class="i0">"Love," said she, "I am here to bring thee home;</span>
+<span class="i0">Well hast thou done all that thou cam'st to do,</span>
+<span class="i0">And if thou bidest here, for something new</span>
+<span class="i0">Will folk begin to cry, and all thy fame</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall then avail thee but for greater blame;</span>
+<span class="i0">Thy love shall cease to love thee, and the earth</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou lovest now shall be of little worth</span>
+<span class="i0">While still thou keepest life, abhorring it.</span>
+<span class="i0">Behold, in men's lives that so quickly flit</span>
+<span class="i0">Thus is it, how then shall it be with thee,</span>
+<span class="i0">Who some faint image of eternity</span>
+<span class="i0">Hast gained through me?&mdash;alas, thou heedest not!</span>
+<span class="i0">On all these changing things thine heart is hot&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">Take then this gift that I have brought from far,</span>
+<span class="i0">And then may'st thou remember what we are;</span>
+<span class="i0">The lover and the loved from long ago."</span>
+<span class="i2">He trembled, and more memory seemed to grow</span>
+<span class="i0">Within his heart as he beheld her stand,</span>
+<span class="i0">Holding a glittering crown in her right hand:</span>
+<span class="i0">"Ogier," she said, "arise and do on thee</span>
+<span class="i0">The emblems of thy worldly sovereignity,</span>
+<span class="i0">For we must pass o'er many a sea this morn."</span>
+<span class="i2">He rose, and in the glittering tunic worn</span>
+<span class="i0">By Charlemaine he clad himself, and took</span>
+<span class="i0">The ivory hand, that Charlemaine once shook</span>
+<span class="i0">Over the people's head in days of old;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then on his feet he set the shoes of gold,</span>
+<span class="i0">And o'er his shoulders threw the mantle fair,</span>
+<span class="i0">And set the gold crown on his golden hair:</span>
+<span class="i0">Then on the royal chair he sat him down,</span>
+<span class="i0">As though he deemed the elders of the town</span>
+<span class="i0">Should come to audience; and in all he seemed</span>
+<span class="i0">To do these things e'en as a man who dreamed.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">And now adown the Seine the golden sun</span>
+<span class="i0">Shone out, as toward him drew that lovely one</span>
+<span class="i0">And took from off his head the royal crown,</span>
+<span class="i0">And, smiling, on the pillow laid it down</span>
+<span class="i0">And said, "Lie there, O crown of Charlemaine,</span>
+<span class="i0">Worn by a mighty man, and worn in vain,</span>
+<span class="i0">Because he died, and all the things he did</span>
+<span class="i0">Were changed before his face by earth was hid;</span>
+<span class="i0">A better crown I have for my love's head,</span>
+<span class="i0">Whereby he yet shall live, when all are dead</span>
+<span class="i0">His hand has helped." Then on his head she set</span>
+<span class="i0">The wondrous crown, and said, "Forget, forget!</span>
+<span class="i0">Forget these weary things, for thou hast much</span>
+<span class="i0">Of happiness to think of."</span>
+<span class="i8">At that touch</span>
+<span class="i0">He rose, a happy light gleamed in his eyes;</span>
+<span class="i0">And smitten by the rush of memories,</span>
+<span class="i0">He stammered out, "O love! how came we here?</span>
+<span class="i0">What do we in this land of Death and Fear?</span>
+<span class="i0">Have I not been from thee a weary while?</span>
+<span class="i0">Let us return&mdash;I dreamed about the isle;</span>
+<span class="i0">I dreamed of other years of strife and pain,</span>
+<span class="i0">Of new years full of struggles long and vain."</span>
+<span class="i2">She took him by the hand and said, "Come, love,</span>
+<span class="i0">I am not changed;" and therewith did they move</span>
+<span class="i0">Unto the door, and through the sleeping place</span>
+<span class="i0">Swiftly they went, and still was Ogier's face</span>
+<span class="i0">Turned on her beauty, and no thought was his</span>
+<span class="i0">Except the dear returning of his bliss.</span>
+<span class="i2">But at the threshold of the palace-gate</span>
+<span class="i0">That opened to them, she awhile did wait,</span>
+<span class="i0">And turned her eyes unto the rippling Seine</span>
+<span class="i0">And said, "O love, behold it once again!"</span>
+<span class="i0">He turned, and gazed upon the city grey</span>
+<span class="i0">Smit by the gold of that sweet morn of May;</span>
+<span class="i0">He heard faint noises as of wakening folk</span>
+<span class="i0">As on their heads his day of glory broke;</span>
+<span class="i0">He heard the changing rush of the swift stream</span>
+<span class="i0">Against the bridge-piers. All was grown a dream.</span>
+<span class="i0">His work was over, his reward was come,</span>
+<span class="i0">Why should he loiter longer from his home?</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">A little while she watched him silently,</span>
+<span class="i0">Then beckoned him to follow with a sigh,</span>
+<span class="i0">And, raising up the raiment from her feet,</span>
+<span class="i0">Across the threshold stepped into the street;</span>
+<span class="i0">One moment on the twain the low sun shone,</span>
+<span class="i0">And then the place was void, and they were gone</span>
+<span class="i0">How I know not; but this I know indeed,</span>
+<span class="i0">That in whatso great trouble or sore need</span>
+<span class="i0">The land of France since that fair day has been,</span>
+<span class="i0">No more the sword of Ogier has she seen.</span>
+</div></div>
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Such</span> was the tale he told of Avallon,</span>
+<span class="i0">E'en such an one as in days past had won</span>
+<span class="i0">His youthful heart to think upon the quest;</span>
+<span class="i0">But to those old hearts nigh in reach of rest,</span>
+<span class="i0">Not much to be desired now it seemed&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">Perchance the heart that of such things had dreamed</span>
+<span class="i0">Had found no words in this death-laden tongue</span>
+<span class="i0">We speak on earth, wherewith they might be sung;</span>
+<span class="i0">Perchance the changing years that changed his heart</span>
+<span class="i0">E'en in the words of that old tale had part,</span>
+<span class="i0">Changing its sweet to bitter, to despair</span>
+<span class="i0">The foolish hope that once had glittered there&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">Or think, that in some bay of that far home</span>
+<span class="i0">They then had sat, and watched the green waves come</span>
+<span class="i0">Up to their feet with many promises;</span>
+<span class="i0">Or the light wind midst blossom-laden trees,</span>
+<span class="i0">In the sweet Spring had weighted many a word</span>
+<span class="i0">Of no worth now, and many a hope had stirred</span>
+<span class="i0">Long dead for ever.</span>
+<span class="i8">Howsoe'er that be</span>
+<span class="i0">Among strange folk they now sat quietly,</span>
+<span class="i0">As though that tale with them had nought to do,</span>
+<span class="i0">As though its hopes and fears were something new.</span>
+<span class="i0">But though, indeed, the outworn, dwindled band</span>
+<span class="i0">Had no tears left for that once longed-for land,</span>
+<span class="i0">The very wind must moan for their decay,</span>
+<span class="i0">And from the sky, grown dull, and low, and grey,</span>
+<span class="i0">Cold tears must fall upon the lonely field,</span>
+<span class="i0">That such fair golden hopes erewhile did yield;</span>
+<span class="i0">And on the blackening woods, wherein the doves</span>
+<span class="i0">Sat silent now, forgetful of their loves.</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet, since a little life at least was left,</span>
+<span class="i0">They were not yet of every joy bereft,</span>
+<span class="i0">For long ago was past the agony,</span>
+<span class="i0">Midst which they found that they indeed must die;</span>
+<span class="i0">And now well-nigh as much their pain was past</span>
+<span class="i0">As though death's veil already had been cast</span>
+<span class="i0">Over their heads&mdash;so, midst some little mirth,</span>
+<span class="i0">They watched the dark night hide the gloomy earth.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+<h2><a name="THE_GOLDEN_APPLES" id="THE_GOLDEN_APPLES"></a>THE GOLDEN APPLES.</h2>
+
+<p>This tale tells of the voyage of a ship of Tyre, that, against the will
+of the shipmen, bore Hercules to an unknown land of the West, that he
+might accomplish a task laid on him by the Fates.</p>
+
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">As many as the leaves fall from the tree,</span>
+<span class="i0">From the world's life the years are fallen away</span>
+<span class="i0">Since King Eurystheus sat in majesty</span>
+<span class="i0">In fair Mycen&aelig;; midmost of whose day</span>
+<span class="i0">It once befell that in a quiet bay</span>
+<span class="i0">A ship of Tyre was swinging nigh the shore,</span>
+<span class="i0">Her folk for sailing handling rope and oar.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Fresh was the summer morn, a soft wind stole</span>
+<span class="i0">Down from the sheep-browsed slopes the cliffs that crowned,</span>
+<span class="i0">And ruffled lightly the long gleaming roll</span>
+<span class="i0">Of the peaceful sea, and bore along the sound</span>
+<span class="i0">Of shepherd-folk and sheep and questing hound,</span>
+<span class="i0">For in the first dip of the hillside there</span>
+<span class="i0">Lay bosomed 'mid its trees a homestead fair.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Amid regrets for last night, when the moon,</span>
+<span class="i0">Risen on the soft dusk, shone on maidens' feet</span>
+<span class="i0">Brushing the gold-heart lilies to the tune</span>
+<span class="i0">Of pipes complaining, o'er the grass down-beat</span>
+<span class="i0">That mixed with dewy flowers its odour sweet,</span>
+<span class="i0">The shipmen laboured, till the sail unfurled</span>
+<span class="i0">Swung round the prow to meet another world.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">But ere the anchor had come home, a shout</span>
+<span class="i0">Rang from the strand, as though the ship were hailed.</span>
+<span class="i0">Whereat the master bade them stay, in doubt</span>
+<span class="i0">That they without some needful thing had sailed;</span>
+<span class="i0">When, lo! from where the cliff's steep grey sides failed</span>
+<span class="i0">Into a ragged stony slip, came twain</span>
+<span class="i0">Who seemed in haste the ready keel to gain.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Soon they drew nigh, and he who first came down</span>
+<span class="i0">Unto the surf was a man huge of limb,</span>
+<span class="i0">Grey-eyed, with crisp-curled hair 'twixt black and brown,</span>
+<span class="i0">Who had a lion's skin cast over him,</span>
+<span class="i0">So wrought with gold that the fell showed but dim</span>
+<span class="i0">Betwixt the threads, and in his hand he bore</span>
+<span class="i0">A mighty club with bands of steel done o'er.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Panting there followed him a grey old man,</span>
+<span class="i0">Bearing a long staff, clad in gown of blue,</span>
+<span class="i0">Feeble of aspect, hollow-cheeked and wan,</span>
+<span class="i0">Who when unto his fellow's side he drew,</span>
+<span class="i0">Said faintly: "Now, do that which thou shouldst do;</span>
+<span class="i0">This is the ship." Then in the other's eye</span>
+<span class="i0">A smile gleamed, and he spake out merrily:</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"Masters, folk tell me that ye make for Tyre,</span>
+<span class="i0">And after that still nearer to the sun;</span>
+<span class="i0">And since Fate bids me look to die by fire,</span>
+<span class="i0">Fain am I, ere my worldly day be done,</span>
+<span class="i0">To know what from earth's hottest can be won;</span>
+<span class="i0">And this old man, my kinsman, would with me.</span>
+<span class="i0">How say ye, will ye bear us o'er the sea?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"What is thy name?" the master said: "And know</span>
+<span class="i0">That we are merchants, and for nought give nought;</span>
+<span class="i0">What wilt thou pay?&mdash;thou seem'st full rich, I trow."</span>
+<span class="i0">The old man muttered, stooped adown and caught</span>
+<span class="i0">At something in the sand: "E'en so I thought,"</span>
+<span class="i0">The younger said, "when I set out from home&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">As to my name, perchance in days to come</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"Thou shalt know that&mdash;but have heed, take this toy,</span>
+<span class="i0">And call me the Strong Man." And as he spake</span>
+<span class="i0">The master's deep-brown eyes 'gan gleam with joy,</span>
+<span class="i0">For from his arm a huge ring did he take,</span>
+<span class="i0">And cast it on the deck, where it did break</span>
+<span class="i0">A water-jar, and in the wet shards lay</span>
+<span class="i0">Golden, and gleaming like the end of day.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">But the old man held out a withered hand,</span>
+<span class="i0">Wherein there shone two pearls most great and fair,</span>
+<span class="i0">And said, "If any nigher I might stand,</span>
+<span class="i0">Then might'st thou see the things I give thee here&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">And for a name&mdash;a many names I bear,</span>
+<span class="i0">But call me Shepherd of the Shore this tide,</span>
+<span class="i0">And for more knowledge with a good will bide."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">From one to the other turned the master's eyes;</span>
+<span class="i0">The Strong Man laughed as at some hidden jest,</span>
+<span class="i0">And wild doubts in the shipman's heart did rise;</span>
+<span class="i0">But thinking on the thing, he deemed it best</span>
+<span class="i0">To bid them come aboard, and take such rest</span>
+<span class="i0">As they might have of the untrusty sea,</span>
+<span class="i0">'Mid men who trusty fellows still should be.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Then no more words the Strong Man made, but straight</span>
+<span class="i0">Caught up the elder in his arms, and so,</span>
+<span class="i0">Making no whit of all that added weight,</span>
+<span class="i0">Strode to the ship, right through the breakers low,</span>
+<span class="i0">And catching at the rope that they did throw</span>
+<span class="i0">Out toward his hand, swung up into the ship;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then did the master let the hawser slip.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">The shapely prow cleft the wet mead and green,</span>
+<span class="i0">And wondering drew the shipmen round to gaze</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon those limbs, the mightiest ever seen;</span>
+<span class="i0">And many deemed it no light thing to face</span>
+<span class="i0">The splendour of his eyen, though they did blaze</span>
+<span class="i0">With no wrath now, no hate for them to dread,</span>
+<span class="i0">As seaward 'twixt the summer isles they sped.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Freshened the wind, but ever fair it blew</span>
+<span class="i0">Unto the south-east; but as failed the land,</span>
+<span class="i0">Unto the plunging prow the Strong Man drew,</span>
+<span class="i0">And silent, gazing with wide eyes did stand,</span>
+<span class="i0">As though his heart found rest; but 'mid the band</span>
+<span class="i0">Of shipmen in the stern the old man sat,</span>
+<span class="i0">Telling them tales that no man there forgat.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">As one who had beheld, he told them there</span>
+<span class="i0">Of the sweet singer, whom, for his song's sake,</span>
+<span class="i0">The dolphins back from choking death did bear;</span>
+<span class="i0">How in the mid sea did the vine outbreak</span>
+<span class="i0">O'er that ill bark when Bacchus 'gan to wake;</span>
+<span class="i0">How anigh Cyprus, ruddy with the rose</span>
+<span class="i0">The cold sea grew as any June-loved close;</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">While on the flowery shore all things alive</span>
+<span class="i0">Grew faint with sense of birth of some delight,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the nymphs waited trembling there, to give</span>
+<span class="i0">Glad welcome to the glory of that sight:</span>
+<span class="i0">He paused then, ere he told how, wild and white,</span>
+<span class="i0">Rose ocean, breaking o'er a race accurst,</span>
+<span class="i0">A world once good, now come unto its worst.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">And then he smiled, and said, "And yet ye won,</span>
+<span class="i0">Ye men, and tremble not on days like these,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor think with what a mind Prometheus' son</span>
+<span class="i0">Beheld the last of the torn reeling trees</span>
+<span class="i0">From high Parnassus: slipping through the seas</span>
+<span class="i0">Ye never think, ye men-folk, how ye seem</span>
+<span class="i0">From down below through the green waters' gleam."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Dusk was it now when these last words he said,</span>
+<span class="i0">And little of his visage might they see,</span>
+<span class="i0">But o'er their hearts stole vague and troublous dread,</span>
+<span class="i0">They knew not why; yet ever quietly</span>
+<span class="i0">They sailed that night; nor might a morning be</span>
+<span class="i0">Fairer than was the next morn; and they went</span>
+<span class="i0">Along their due course after their intent.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">The fourth day, about sunrise, from the mast</span>
+<span class="i0">The watch cried out he saw Phoenician land;</span>
+<span class="i0">Whereat the Strong Man on the elder cast</span>
+<span class="i0">A look askance, and he straight took his stand</span>
+<span class="i0">Anigh the prow, and gazed beneath his hand</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the low sun and the scarce-seen shore,</span>
+<span class="i0">Till cloud-flecks rose, and gathered and drew o'er.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">The morn grown cold; then small rain 'gan to fall,</span>
+<span class="i0">And all the wind dropped dead, and hearts of men</span>
+<span class="i0">Sank, and their bark seemed helpless now and small;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then suddenly the wind 'gan moan again;</span>
+<span class="i0">Sails flapped, and ropes beat wild about; and then</span>
+<span class="i0">Down came the great east wind; and the ship ran</span>
+<span class="i0">Straining, heeled o'er, through seas all changed and wan.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Westward, scarce knowing night from day, they drave</span>
+<span class="i0">Through sea and sky grown one; the Strong Man wrought</span>
+<span class="i0">With mighty hands, and seemed a god to save;</span>
+<span class="i0">But on the prow, heeding all weather nought,</span>
+<span class="i0">The elder stood, nor any prop he sought,</span>
+<span class="i0">But swayed to the ship's wallowing, as on wings</span>
+<span class="i0">He there were set above the wrack of things.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">And westward still they drave; and if they saw</span>
+<span class="i0">Land upon either side, as on they sped,</span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas but as faces in a dream may draw</span>
+<span class="i0">Anigh, and fade, and leave nought in their stead;</span>
+<span class="i0">And in the shipmen's hearts grew heavy dread</span>
+<span class="i0">To sick despair; they deemed they should drive on</span>
+<span class="i0">Till the world's edge and empty space were won.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">But 'neath the Strong Man's eyes e'en as they might</span>
+<span class="i0">They toiled on still; and he sang to the wind,</span>
+<span class="i0">And spread his arms to meet the waters white,</span>
+<span class="i0">As o'er the deck they tumbled, making blind</span>
+<span class="i0">The brine-drenched shipmen; nor with eye unkind</span>
+<span class="i0">He gazed up at the lightning; nor would frown</span>
+<span class="i0">When o'er the wet waste Jove's bolt rattled down.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">And they, who at the last had come to think</span>
+<span class="i0">Their guests were very gods, with all their fear</span>
+<span class="i0">Feared nought belike that their good ship would sink</span>
+<span class="i0">Amid the storm; but rather looked to hear</span>
+<span class="i0">The last moan of the wind that them should bear</span>
+<span class="i0">Into the windless stream of ocean grey,</span>
+<span class="i0">Where they should float till dead was every day.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Yet their fear mocked them; for the storm 'gan die</span>
+<span class="i0">About the tenth day, though unto the west</span>
+<span class="i0">They drave on still; soon fair and quietly</span>
+<span class="i0">The morn would break: and though amid their rest</span>
+<span class="i0">Nought but long evil wandering seemed the best</span>
+<span class="i0">That they might hope for; still, despite their dread,</span>
+<span class="i0">Sweet was the quiet sea and goodlihead</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Of the bright sun at last come back again;</span>
+<span class="i0">And as the days passed, less and less fear grew,</span>
+<span class="i0">If without cause, till faded all their pain;</span>
+<span class="i0">And they 'gan turn unto their guests anew,</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet durst ask nought of what that evil drew</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon their heads; or of returning speak.</span>
+<span class="i0">Happy they felt, but listless, spent, and weak.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">And now as at the first the elder was,</span>
+<span class="i0">And sat and told them tales of yore agone;</span>
+<span class="i0">But ever the Strong Man up and down would pass</span>
+<span class="i0">About the deck, or on the prow alone</span>
+<span class="i0">Would stand and stare out westward; and still on</span>
+<span class="i0">Through a fair summer sea they went, nor thought</span>
+<span class="i0">Of what would come when these days turned to nought.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">And now when twenty days were well passed o'er</span>
+<span class="i0">They made a new land; cloudy mountains high</span>
+<span class="i0">Rose from the sea at first; then a green shore</span>
+<span class="i0">Spread fair below them: as they drew anigh</span>
+<span class="i0">No sloping, stony strand could they espy,</span>
+<span class="i0">And no surf breaking; the green sea and wide</span>
+<span class="i0">Wherethrough they slipped was driven by no tide.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Dark fell ere they might set their eager feet</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the shore; but night-long their ship lay</span>
+<span class="i0">As in a deep stream, by the blossoms sweet</span>
+<span class="i0">That flecked the grass whence flowers ne'er passed away.</span>
+<span class="i0">But when the cloud-barred east brought back the day,</span>
+<span class="i0">And turned the western mountain-tops to gold,</span>
+<span class="i0">Fresh fear the shipmen in their bark did hold.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">For as a dream seemed all; too fair for those</span>
+<span class="i0">Who needs must die; moreover they could see,</span>
+<span class="i0">A furlong off, 'twixt apple-tree and rose,</span>
+<span class="i0">A brazen wall that gleamed out wondrously</span>
+<span class="i0">In the young sun, and seemed right long to be;</span>
+<span class="i0">And memory of all marvels lay upon</span>
+<span class="i0">Their shrinking hearts now this sweet place was won.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">But when unto the nameless guests they turned,</span>
+<span class="i0">Who stood together nigh the plank shot out</span>
+<span class="i0">Shoreward, within the Strong Man's eyes there burned</span>
+<span class="i0">A wild light, as the other one in doubt</span>
+<span class="i0">He eyed a moment; then with a great shout</span>
+<span class="i0">Leaped into the blossomed grass; the echoes rolled</span>
+<span class="i0">Back from the hills, harsh still and over-bold.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Slowly the old man followed him, and still</span>
+<span class="i0">The crew held back: they knew now they were brought</span>
+<span class="i0">Over the sea the purpose to fulfil</span>
+<span class="i0">Of these strange men; and in their hearts they thought,</span>
+<span class="i0">"Perchance we yet shall live, if, meddling nought</span>
+<span class="i0">With dreams, we bide here till these twain come back;</span>
+<span class="i0">But prying eyes the fire-blast seldom lack."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Yet 'mongst them were two fellows bold and young,</span>
+<span class="i0">Who, looking each upon the other's face,</span>
+<span class="i0">Their hearts to meet the unknown danger strung,</span>
+<span class="i0">And went ashore, and at a gentle pace</span>
+<span class="i0">Followed the strangers, who unto the place</span>
+<span class="i0">Where the wall gleamed had turned; peace and desire</span>
+<span class="i0">Mingled together in their hearts, as nigher</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">They drew unto that wall, and dulled their fear:</span>
+<span class="i0">Fair wrought it was, as though with bricks of brass;</span>
+<span class="i0">And images upon its face there were,</span>
+<span class="i0">Stories of things a long while come to pass:</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor that alone&mdash;as looking in a glass</span>
+<span class="i0">Its maker knew the tales of what should be,</span>
+<span class="i0">And wrought them there for bird and beast to see.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">So on they went; the many birds sang sweet</span>
+<span class="i0">Through all that blossomed thicket from above,</span>
+<span class="i0">And unknown flowers bent down before their feet;</span>
+<span class="i0">The very air, cleft by the grey-winged dove,</span>
+<span class="i0">Throbbed with sweet scent, and smote their souls with love.</span>
+<span class="i0">Slowly they went till those twain stayed before</span>
+<span class="i0">A strangely-wrought and iron-covered door.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">They stayed, too, till o'er noise of wind, and bird,</span>
+<span class="i0">And falling flower, there rang a mighty shout</span>
+<span class="i0">As the Strong Man his steel-bound club upreared,</span>
+<span class="i0">And drave it 'gainst the hammered iron stout,</span>
+<span class="i0">Where 'neath his blows flew bolt and rivet out,</span>
+<span class="i0">Till shattered on the ground the great door lay,</span>
+<span class="i0">And into the guarded place bright poured the day.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">The Strong Man entered, but his fellow stayed,</span>
+<span class="i0">Leaning against a tree-trunk as they deemed.</span>
+<span class="i0">They faltered now, and yet all things being weighed</span>
+<span class="i0">Went on again; and thought they must have dreamed</span>
+<span class="i0">Of the old man, for now the sunlight streamed</span>
+<span class="i0">Full on the tree he had been leaning on,</span>
+<span class="i0">And him they saw not go, yet was he gone:</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Only a slim green lizard flitted there</span>
+<span class="i0">Amidst the dry leaves; him they noted nought,</span>
+<span class="i0">But trembling, through the doorway 'gan to peer,</span>
+<span class="i0">And still of strange and dreadful saw not aught,</span>
+<span class="i0">Only a garden fair beyond all thought.</span>
+<span class="i0">And there, 'twixt sun and shade, the Strong Man went</span>
+<span class="i0">On some long-sought-for end belike intent.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">They 'gan to follow down a narrow way</span>
+<span class="i0">Of green-sward that the lilies trembled o'er,</span>
+<span class="i0">And whereon thick the scattered rose-leaves lay;</span>
+<span class="i0">But a great wonder weighed upon them sore,</span>
+<span class="i0">And well they thought they should return no more,</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet scarce a pain that seemed; they looked to meet</span>
+<span class="i0">Before they died things strange and fair and sweet.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">So still to right and left the Strong Man thrust</span>
+<span class="i0">The blossomed boughs, and passed on steadily,</span>
+<span class="i0">As though his hardy heart he well did trust,</span>
+<span class="i0">Till in a while he gave a joyous cry,</span>
+<span class="i0">And hastened on, as though the end drew nigh;</span>
+<span class="i0">And women's voices then they deemed they heard,</span>
+<span class="i0">Mixed with a noise that made desire afeard.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Yet through sweet scents and sounds on did they bear</span>
+<span class="i0">Their panting hearts, till the path ended now</span>
+<span class="i0">In a wide space of green, a streamlet clear</span>
+<span class="i0">From out a marble basin there did flow,</span>
+<span class="i0">And close by that a slim-trunked tree did grow,</span>
+<span class="i0">And on a bough low o'er the water cold</span>
+<span class="i0">There hung three apples of red-gleaming gold.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">About the tree, new risen e'en now to meet</span>
+<span class="i0">The shining presence of that mighty one,</span>
+<span class="i0">Three damsels stood, naked from head to feet</span>
+<span class="i0">Save for the glory of their hair, where sun</span>
+<span class="i0">And shadow flickered, while the wind did run</span>
+<span class="i0">Through the grey leaves o'erhead, and shook the grass</span>
+<span class="i0">Where nigh their feet the wandering bee did pass.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">But 'midst their delicate limbs and all around</span>
+<span class="i0">The tree-roots, gleaming blue black could they see</span>
+<span class="i0">The spires of a great serpent, that, enwound</span>
+<span class="i0">About the smooth bole, looked forth threateningly,</span>
+<span class="i0">With glittering eyes and raised crest, o'er the three</span>
+<span class="i0">Fair heads fresh crowned, and hissed above the speech</span>
+<span class="i0">Wherewith they murmured softly each to each.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Now the Strong Man amid the green space stayed,</span>
+<span class="i0">And leaning on his club, with eager eyes</span>
+<span class="i0">But brow yet smooth, in voice yet friendly said:</span>
+<span class="i0">"O daughters of old Hesperus the Wise,</span>
+<span class="i0">Well have ye held your guard here; but time tries</span>
+<span class="i0">The very will of gods, and to my hand</span>
+<span class="i0">Must give this day the gold fruit of your land."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Then spake the first maid&mdash;sweet as the west wind</span>
+<span class="i0">Amidst of summer noon her sweet voice was:</span>
+<span class="i0">"Ah, me! what knows this place of changing mind</span>
+<span class="i0">Of men or gods; here shall long ages pass,</span>
+<span class="i0">And clean forget thy feet upon the grass,</span>
+<span class="i0">Thy hapless bones amid the fruitful mould;</span>
+<span class="i0">Look at thy death envenomed swift and cold!"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Hiding new flowers, the dull coils, as she spake,</span>
+<span class="i0">Moved near her limbs: but then the second one,</span>
+<span class="i0">In such a voice as when the morn doth wake</span>
+<span class="i0">To song of birds, said, "When the world foredone</span>
+<span class="i0">Has moaned its last, still shall we dwell alone</span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath this bough, and have no tales to tell</span>
+<span class="i0">Of things deemed great that on the earth befell."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Then spake the third, in voice as of the flute</span>
+<span class="i0">That wakes the maiden to her wedding morn:</span>
+<span class="i0">"If any god should gain our golden fruit,</span>
+<span class="i0">Its curse would make his deathless life forlorn.</span>
+<span class="i0">Lament thou, then, that ever thou wert born;</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet all things, changed by joy or loss or pain,</span>
+<span class="i0">To what they were shall change and change again."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"So be it," he said, "the Fates that drive me on</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall slay me or shall save; blessing or curse</span>
+<span class="i0">That followeth after when the thing is won</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall make my work no better now nor worse;</span>
+<span class="i0">And if it be that the world's heart must nurse</span>
+<span class="i0">Hatred against me, how then shall I choose</span>
+<span class="i0">To leave or take?&mdash;let your dread servant loose!"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">E'en therewith, like a pillar of black smoke,</span>
+<span class="i0">Swift, shifting ever, drave the worm at him;</span>
+<span class="i0">In deadly silence now that nothing broke,</span>
+<span class="i0">Its folds were writhing round him trunk and limb,</span>
+<span class="i0">Until his glittering gear was nought but dim</span>
+<span class="i0">E'en in that sunshine, while his head and side</span>
+<span class="i0">And breast the fork-tongued, pointed muzzle tried.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Closer the coils drew, quicker all about</span>
+<span class="i0">The forked tongue darted, and yet stiff he stood,</span>
+<span class="i0">E'en as an oak that sees the straw flare out</span>
+<span class="i0">And lick its ancient bole for little good:</span>
+<span class="i0">Until the godlike fury of his mood</span>
+<span class="i0">Burst from his heart in one great shattering cry,</span>
+<span class="i0">And rattling down the loosened coils did lie;</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">And from the torn throat and crushed dreadful head</span>
+<span class="i0">Forth flowed a stream of blood along the grass;</span>
+<span class="i0">Bright in the sun he stood above the dead,</span>
+<span class="i0">Panting with fury; yet as ever was</span>
+<span class="i0">The wont of him, soon did his anger pass,</span>
+<span class="i0">And with a happy smile at last he turned</span>
+<span class="i0">To where the apples o'er the water burned.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Silent and moveless ever stood the three;</span>
+<span class="i0">No change came o'er their faces, as his hand</span>
+<span class="i0">Was stretched aloft unto the sacred tree;</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor shrank they aught aback, though he did stand</span>
+<span class="i0">So close that tresses of their bright hair, fanned</span>
+<span class="i0">By the sweet garden breeze, lay light on him,</span>
+<span class="i0">And his gold fell brushed by them breast and limb.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">He drew adown the wind-stirred bough, and took</span>
+<span class="i0">The apples thence; then let it spring away,</span>
+<span class="i0">And from his brow the dark hair backward shook,</span>
+<span class="i0">And said: "O sweet, O fair, and shall this day</span>
+<span class="i0">A curse upon my life henceforward lay&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">This day alone? Methinks of coming life</span>
+<span class="i0">Somewhat I know, with all its loss and strife.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"But this I know, at least: the world shall wend</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon its way, and, gathering joy and grief</span>
+<span class="i0">And deeds done, bear them with it to the end;</span>
+<span class="i0">So shall it, though I lie as last year's leaf</span>
+<span class="i0">Lies 'neath a summer tree, at least receive</span>
+<span class="i0">My life gone by, and store it, with the gain</span>
+<span class="i0">That men alive call striving, wrong, and pain.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"So for my part I rather bless than curse,</span>
+<span class="i0">And bless this fateful land; good be with it;</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor for this deadly thing's death is it worse,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor for the lack of gold; still shall ye sit</span>
+<span class="i0">Watching the swallow o'er the daisies flit;</span>
+<span class="i0">Still shall your wandering limbs ere day is done</span>
+<span class="i0">Make dawn desired by the sinking sun.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"And now, behold! in memory of all this</span>
+<span class="i0">Take ye this girdle that shall waste and fade</span>
+<span class="i0">As fadeth not your fairness and your bliss,</span>
+<span class="i0">That when hereafter 'mid the blossoms laid</span>
+<span class="i0">Ye talk of days and men now nothing made,</span>
+<span class="i0">Ye may remember how the Theban man,</span>
+<span class="i0">The son of Jove, came o'er the waters wan."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Their faces changed not aught for all they heard;</span>
+<span class="i0">As though all things now fully told out were,</span>
+<span class="i0">They gazed upon him without any word:</span>
+<span class="i0">Ah! craving kindness, hope, or loving care,</span>
+<span class="i0">Their fairness scarcely could have made more fair,</span>
+<span class="i0">As with the apples folded in his fell</span>
+<span class="i0">He went, to do more deeds for folk to tell.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Now as the girdle on the ground was cast</span>
+<span class="i0">Those fellows turned and hurried toward the door,</span>
+<span class="i0">And as across its broken leaves they passed</span>
+<span class="i0">The old man saw they not, e'en as before;</span>
+<span class="i0">But an unearthed blind mole bewildered sore</span>
+<span class="i0">Was wandering there in fruitless, aimless wise,</span>
+<span class="i0">That got small heed from their full-sated eyes.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Swift gat they to their anxious folk; nor had</span>
+<span class="i0">More time than just to say, "Be of good cheer,</span>
+<span class="i0">For in our own land may we yet be glad,"</span>
+<span class="i0">When they beheld the guests a-drawing near;</span>
+<span class="i0">And much bewildered the two fellows were</span>
+<span class="i0">To see the old man, and must even deem</span>
+<span class="i0">That they should see things stranger than a dream.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">But when they were aboard the elder cried,</span>
+<span class="i0">"Up sails, my masters, fair now is the wind;</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor good it is too long here to abide,</span>
+<span class="i0">Lest what ye may not loose your souls should bind."</span>
+<span class="i0">And as he spake, the tall trees left behind</span>
+<span class="i0">Stirred with the rising land-wind, and the crew,</span>
+<span class="i0">Joyous thereat, the hawsers shipward drew.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Swift sped the ship, and glad at heart were all,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the Strong Man was merry with the rest,</span>
+<span class="i0">And from the elder's lips no word did fall</span>
+<span class="i0">That did not seem to promise all the best;</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet with a certain awe were men oppressed,</span>
+<span class="i0">And felt as if their inmost hearts were bare,</span>
+<span class="i0">And each man's secret babbled through the air.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Still oft the old man sat with them and told</span>
+<span class="i0">Tales of past time, as on the outward way;</span>
+<span class="i0">And now would they the face of him behold</span>
+<span class="i0">And deem it changed; the years that on him lay</span>
+<span class="i0">Seemed to grow nought, and no more wan and grey</span>
+<span class="i0">He looked, but ever glorious, wise and strong,</span>
+<span class="i0">As though no lapse of time for him were long.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">At last, when six days through the kindly sea</span>
+<span class="i0">Their keel had slipped, he said: "Come hearken now,</span>
+<span class="i0">For so it is that things fare wondrously</span>
+<span class="i0">E'en in these days; and I a tale can show</span>
+<span class="i0">That, told by you unto your sons shall grow</span>
+<span class="i0">A marvel of the days that are to come:</span>
+<span class="i0">Take heed and tell it when ye reach your home.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"Yet living in the world a man there is</span>
+<span class="i0">Men call the Theban King Amphitryon's son,</span>
+<span class="i0">Although perchance a greater sire was his;</span>
+<span class="i0">But certainly his lips have hung upon</span>
+<span class="i0">Alcmena's breasts: great deeds this man hath won</span>
+<span class="i0">Already, for his name is Hercules,</span>
+<span class="i0">And e'en ye Asian folk have heard of these.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"Now ere the moon, this eve in his last wane,</span>
+<span class="i0">Was born, this Hercules, the fated thrall</span>
+<span class="i0">Of King Eurystheus, was straight bid to gain</span>
+<span class="i0">Gifts from a land whereon no foot doth fall</span>
+<span class="i0">Of mortal man, beyond the misty wall</span>
+<span class="i0">Of unknown waters; pensively he went</span>
+<span class="i0">Along the sea on his hard life intent.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"And at the dawn he came into a bay</span>
+<span class="i0">Where the sea, ebbed far down, left wastes of sand,</span>
+<span class="i0">Walled from the green earth by great cliffs and grey;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then he looked up, and wondering there did stand,</span>
+<span class="i0">For strange things lay in slumber on the strand;</span>
+<span class="i0">Strange counterparts of what the firm earth hath</span>
+<span class="i0">Lay scattered all about his weary path:</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"Sea-lions and sea-horses and sea-kine,</span>
+<span class="i0">Sea-boars, sea-men strange-skinned, of wondrous hair;</span>
+<span class="i0">And in their midst a man who seemed divine</span>
+<span class="i0">For changeless eld, and round him women fair,</span>
+<span class="i0">Clad in the sea-webs glassy green and clear</span>
+<span class="i0">With gems on head and girdle, limb and breast,</span>
+<span class="i0">Such as earth knoweth not among her best.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"A moment at the fair and wondrous sight</span>
+<span class="i0">He stared, then, since the heart in him was good,</span>
+<span class="i0">He went about with careful steps and light</span>
+<span class="i0">Till o'er the sleeping sea-god now he stood;</span>
+<span class="i0">And if the white-foot maids had stirred his blood</span>
+<span class="i0">As he passed by, now other thoughts had place</span>
+<span class="i0">Within his heart when he beheld that face.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"For Nereus now he knew, who knows all things;</span>
+<span class="i0">And to himself he said, 'If I prevail,</span>
+<span class="i0">Better than by some god-wrought eagle-wings</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall I be holpen;' then he cried out: 'Hail,</span>
+<span class="i0">O Nereus! lord of shifting hill and dale!</span>
+<span class="i0">Arise and wrestle; I am Hercules!</span>
+<span class="i0">Not soon now shalt thou meet the ridgy seas.'</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"And mightily he cast himself on him;</span>
+<span class="i0">And Nereus cried out shrilly; and straightway</span>
+<span class="i0">That sleeping crowd, fair maid with half-hid limb,</span>
+<span class="i0">Strange man and green-haired beast, made no delay,</span>
+<span class="i0">But glided down into the billows grey,</span>
+<span class="i0">And, by the lovely sea embraced, were gone,</span>
+<span class="i0">While they two wrestled on the sea strand lone.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"Soon found the sea-god that his bodily might</span>
+<span class="i0">Was nought in dealing with Jove's dear one there;</span>
+<span class="i0">And soon he 'gan to use his magic sleight:</span>
+<span class="i0">Into a lithe leopard, and a hugging bear</span>
+<span class="i0">He turned him; then the smallest fowl of air</span>
+<span class="i0">The straining arms of Hercules must hold,</span>
+<span class="i0">And then a mud-born wriggling eel and cold.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"Then as the firm hands mastered this, forth brake</span>
+<span class="i0">A sudden rush of waters all around,</span>
+<span class="i0">Blinding and choking: then a thin green snake</span>
+<span class="i0">With golden eyes; then o'er the shell-strewn ground</span>
+<span class="i0">Forth stole a fly the least that may be found;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then earth and heaven seemed wrapped in one huge flame,</span>
+<span class="i0">But from the midst thereof a voice there came:</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"'Kinsman and stout-heart, thou hast won the day,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor to my grief: what wouldst thou have of me?'</span>
+<span class="i0">And therewith to an old man small and grey</span>
+<span class="i0">Faded the roaring flame, who wearily</span>
+<span class="i0">Sat down upon the sand and said, 'Let be!</span>
+<span class="i0">I know thy tale; worthy of help thou art;</span>
+<span class="i0">Come now, a short way hence will there depart</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"'A ship of Tyre for the warm southern seas,</span>
+<span class="i0">Come we a-board; according to my will</span>
+<span class="i0">Her way shall be.' Then up rose Hercules,</span>
+<span class="i0">Merry of face, though hot and panting still;</span>
+<span class="i0">But the fair summer day his heart did fill</span>
+<span class="i0">With all delight; and so forth went the twain,</span>
+<span class="i0">And found those men desirous of all gain.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"Ah, for these gainful men&mdash;somewhat indeed</span>
+<span class="i0">Their sails are rent, their bark beat; kin and friend</span>
+<span class="i0">Are wearying for them; yet a friend in need</span>
+<span class="i0">They yet shall gain, if at their journey's end,</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the last ness where the wild goats wend</span>
+<span class="i0">To lick the salt-washed stones, a house they raise</span>
+<span class="i0">Bedight with gold in kindly Nereus' praise."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Breathless they waited for these latest words,</span>
+<span class="i0">That like the soft wind of the gathering night</span>
+<span class="i0">Were grown to be: about the mast flew birds</span>
+<span class="i0">Making their moan, hovering long-winged and white;</span>
+<span class="i0">And now before their straining anxious sight</span>
+<span class="i0">The old man faded out into the air,</span>
+<span class="i0">And from his place flew forth a sea-mew fair.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Then to the Mighty Man, Alcmena's son,</span>
+<span class="i0">With yearning hearts they turned till he should speak,</span>
+<span class="i0">And he spake softly: "Nought ill have ye done</span>
+<span class="i0">In helping me to find what I did seek:</span>
+<span class="i0">The world made better by me knows if weak</span>
+<span class="i0">My hand and heart are: but now, light the fire</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the prow and worship the grey sire."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">So did they; and such gifts as there they had</span>
+<span class="i0">Gave unto Nereus; yea, and sooth to say,</span>
+<span class="i0">Amid the tumult of their hearts made glad,</span>
+<span class="i0">Had honoured Hercules in e'en such way;</span>
+<span class="i0">But he laughed out amid them, and said, "Nay,</span>
+<span class="i0">Not yet the end is come; nor have I yet</span>
+<span class="i0">Bowed down before vain longing and regret.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"It may be&mdash;who shall tell, when I go back</span>
+<span class="i0">There whence I came, and looking down behold</span>
+<span class="i0">The place that my once eager heart shall lack,</span>
+<span class="i0">And all my dead desires a-lying cold,</span>
+<span class="i0">But I may have the might then to enfold</span>
+<span class="i0">The hopes of brave men in my heart?&mdash;but long</span>
+<span class="i0">Life lies before first with its change and wrong."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">So fair along the watery ways they sped</span>
+<span class="i0">In happy wise, nor failed of their return;</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor failed in ancient Tyre the ways to tread,</span>
+<span class="i0">Teaching their tale to whomsoever would learn,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor failed at last the flesh of beasts to burn</span>
+<span class="i0">In Nereus' house, turned toward the bright day's end</span>
+<span class="i0">On the last ness, round which the wild goats wend.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+<h2><a name="LENVOI" id="LENVOI"></a>L'ENVOI.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Here are we for the last time face to face,</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou and I, Book, before I bid thee speed</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon thy perilous journey to that place</span>
+<span class="i0">For which I have done on thee pilgrim's weed,</span>
+<span class="i0">Striving to get thee all things for thy need&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;I love thee, whatso time or men may say</span>
+<span class="i0">Of the poor singer of an empty day.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Good reason why I love thee, e'en if thou</span>
+<span class="i0">Be mocked or clean forgot as time wears on;</span>
+<span class="i0">For ever as thy fashioning did grow,</span>
+<span class="i0">Kind word and praise because of thee I won</span>
+<span class="i0">From those without whom were my world all gone,</span>
+<span class="i0">My hope fallen dead, my singing cast away,</span>
+<span class="i0">And I set soothly in an empty day.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">I love thee; yet this last time must it be,</span>
+<span class="i0">That thou must hold thy peace and I must speak,</span>
+<span class="i0">Lest if thou babble I begin to see</span>
+<span class="i0">Thy gear too thin, thy limbs and heart too weak,</span>
+<span class="i0">To find the land thou goest forth to seek&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;Though what harm if thou die upon the way,</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou idle singer of an empty day?</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">But though this land desired thou never reach,</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet folk who know it mayst thou meet or death;</span>
+<span class="i0">Therefore a word unto thee would I teach</span>
+<span class="i0">To answer these, who, noting thy weak breath,</span>
+<span class="i0">Thy wandering eyes, thy heart of little faith,</span>
+<span class="i0">May make thy fond desire a sport and play,</span>
+<span class="i0">Mocking the singer of an empty day.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">That land's name, say'st thou? and the road thereto?</span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, Book, thou mockest, saying thou know'st it not;</span>
+<span class="i0">Surely no book of verse I ever knew</span>
+<span class="i0">But ever was the heart within him hot</span>
+<span class="i0">To gain the Land of Matters Unforgot&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;There, now we both laugh&mdash;as the whole world may,</span>
+<span class="i0">At us poor singers of an empty day.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Nay, let it pass, and hearken! Hast thou heard</span>
+<span class="i0">That therein I believe I have a friend,</span>
+<span class="i0">Of whom for love I may not be afeard?</span>
+<span class="i0">It is to him indeed I bid thee wend;</span>
+<span class="i0">Yea, he perchance may meet thee ere thou end,</span>
+<span class="i0">Dying so far off from the hedge of bay,</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou idle singer of an empty day!</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Well, think of him, I bid thee, on the road,</span>
+<span class="i0">And if it hap that midst of thy defeat,</span>
+<span class="i0">Fainting beneath thy follies' heavy load,</span>
+<span class="i0">My Master, <span class="smcap">Geoffrey Chaucer</span>, thou do meet,</span>
+<span class="i0">Then shalt thou win a space of rest full sweet;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then be thou bold, and speak the words I say,</span>
+<span class="i0">The idle singer of an empty day!</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"O Master, O thou great of heart and tongue,</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou well mayst ask me why I wander here,</span>
+<span class="i0">In raiment rent of stories oft besung!</span>
+<span class="i0">But of thy gentleness draw thou anear,</span>
+<span class="i0">And then the heart of one who held thee dear</span>
+<span class="i0">Mayst thou behold! So near as that I lay</span>
+<span class="i0">Unto the singer of an empty day.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"For this he ever said, who sent me forth</span>
+<span class="i0">To seek a place amid thy company;</span>
+<span class="i0">That howsoever little was my worth,</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet was he worth e'en just so much as I;</span>
+<span class="i0">He said that rhyme hath little skill to lie:</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor feigned to cast his worser part away</span>
+<span class="i0">In idle singing for an empty day.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"I have beheld him tremble oft enough</span>
+<span class="i0">At things he could not choose but trust to me,</span>
+<span class="i0">Although he knew the world was wise and rough:</span>
+<span class="i0">And never did he fail to let me see</span>
+<span class="i0">His love,&mdash;his folly and faithlessness, may be;</span>
+<span class="i0">And still in turn I gave him voice to pray</span>
+<span class="i0">Such prayers as cling about an empty day.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"Thou, keen-eyed, reading me, mayst read him through,</span>
+<span class="i0">For surely little is there left behind;</span>
+<span class="i0">No power great deeds unnameable to do;</span>
+<span class="i0">No knowledge for which words he may not find,</span>
+<span class="i0">No love of things as vague as autumn wind&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;Earth of the earth lies hidden by my clay,</span>
+<span class="i0">The idle singer of an empty day!</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"Children we twain are, saith he, late made wise</span>
+<span class="i0">In love, but in all else most childish still,</span>
+<span class="i0">And seeking still the pleasure of our eyes,</span>
+<span class="i0">And what our ears with sweetest sounds may fill;</span>
+<span class="i0">Not fearing Love, lest these things he should kill;</span>
+<span class="i0">Howe'er his pain by pleasure doth he lay,</span>
+<span class="i0">Making a strange tale of an empty day.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"Death have we hated, knowing not what it meant;</span>
+<span class="i0">Life have we loved, through green leaf and through sere,</span>
+<span class="i0">Though still the less we knew of its intent:</span>
+<span class="i0">The Earth and Heaven through countless year on year,</span>
+<span class="i0">Slow changing, were to us but curtains fair,</span>
+<span class="i0">Hung round about a little room, where play</span>
+<span class="i0">Weeping and laughter of man's empty day.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">"O Master, if thine heart could love us yet,</span>
+<span class="i0">Spite of things left undone, and wrongly done,</span>
+<span class="i0">Some place in loving hearts then should we get,</span>
+<span class="i0">For thou, sweet-souled, didst never stand alone,</span>
+<span class="i0">But knew'st the joy and woe of many an one&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;By lovers dead, who live through thee we pray,</span>
+<span class="i0">Help thou us singers of an empty day!"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Fearest thou, Book, what answer thou mayst gain</span>
+<span class="i0">Lest he should scorn thee, and thereof thou die?</span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, it shall not be.&mdash;Thou mayst toil in vain,</span>
+<span class="i0">And never draw the House of Fame anigh;</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet he and his shall know whereof we cry,</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall call it not ill done to strive to lay</span>
+<span class="i0">The ghosts that crowd about life's empty day.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i2">Then let the others go! and if indeed</span>
+<span class="i0">In some old garden thou and I have wrought,</span>
+<span class="i0">And made fresh flowers spring up from hoarded seed,</span>
+<span class="i0">And fragrance of old days and deeds have brought</span>
+<span class="i0">Back to folk weary; all was not for nought.</span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;No little part it was for me to play&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">The idle singer of an empty day.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+<h2>FROM "LOVE IS ENOUGH."</h2>
+
+<h3><a name="INTERLUDES" id="INTERLUDES"></a>INTERLUDES.</h3>
+
+
+<h4>1.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Love is enough</span>; though the World be a-waning</span>
+<span class="i0">And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining,</span>
+<span class="i2">Though the sky be too dark for dim eyes to discover</span>
+<span class="i0">The gold-cups and daisies fair blooming thereunder,</span>
+<span class="i0">Though the hills be held shadows, and the sea a dark wonder,</span>
+<span class="i2">And this day draw a veil over all deeds, passed over,</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet their hands shall not tremble, their feet shall not falter;</span>
+<span class="i0">The void shall not weary, the fear shall not alter</span>
+<span class="i2">These lips and these eyes of the loved and the lover.</span>
+</div></div>
+<br /><br />
+
+<h4>2.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Love is enough</span>: it grew up without heeding</span>
+<span class="i2">In the days when ye knew not its name nor its measure,</span>
+<span class="i2">And its leaflets untrodden by the light feet of pleasure</span>
+<span class="i0">Had no boast of the blossom, no sign of the seeding,</span>
+<span class="i2">As the morning and evening passed over its treasure.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">And what do ye say then?&mdash;that Spring long departed</span>
+<span class="i2">Has brought forth no child to the softness and showers;</span>
+<span class="i2">&mdash;That we slept and we dreamed through the Summer of flowers;</span>
+<span class="i0">We dreamed of the Winter, and waking dead-hearted</span>
+<span class="i2">Found Winter upon us and waste of dull hours.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Nay, Spring was o'er happy and knew not the reason,</span>
+<span class="i2">And Summer dreamed sadly, for she thought all was ended</span>
+<span class="i2">In her fulness of wealth that might not be amended;</span>
+<span class="i0">But this is the harvest and the garnering season,</span>
+<span class="i2">And the leaf and the blossom in the ripe fruit are blended.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">It sprang without sowing, it grew without heeding,</span>
+<span class="i2">Ye knew not its name and ye knew not its measure,</span>
+<span class="i2">Ye noted it not mid your hope and your pleasure;</span>
+<span class="i0">There was pain in its blossom, despair in its seeding,</span>
+<span class="i2">But daylong your bosom now nurseth its treasure.</span>
+</div></div>
+<br /><br />
+
+<h4>3.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Love is enough</span>: draw near and behold me</span>
+<span class="i2">Ye who pass by the way to your rest and your laughter,</span>
+<span class="i2">And are full of the hope of the dawn coming after</span>
+<span class="i0">For the strong of the world have bought me and sold me</span>
+<span class="i2">And my house is all wasted from threshold to rafter.</span>
+<span class="i4">&mdash;Pass by me, and hearken, and think of me not!</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Cry out and come near; for my ears may not hearken,</span>
+<span class="i2">And my eyes are grown dim as the eyes of the dying.</span>
+<span class="i2">Is this the grey rack o'er the sun's face a-flying?</span>
+<span class="i0">Or is it your faces his brightness that darken?</span>
+<span class="i2">Comes a wind from the sea, or is it your sighing?</span>
+<span class="i4">&mdash;Pass by me and hearken, and pity me not!</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Ye know not how void is your hope and your living:</span>
+<span class="i2">Depart with your helping lest yet ye undo me!</span>
+<span class="i2">Ye know not that at nightfall she draweth near to me,</span>
+<span class="i0">There is soft speech between us and words of forgiving</span>
+<span class="i2">Till in dead of the midnight her kisses thrill through me.</span>
+<span class="i4">&mdash;Pass by me and hearken, and waken me not!</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Wherewith will ye buy it, ye rich who behold me?</span>
+<span class="i2">Draw out from your coffers your rest and your laughter,</span>
+<span class="i2">And the fair gilded hope of the dawn coming after!</span>
+<span class="i0">Nay this I sell not,&mdash;though ye bought me and sold me,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i2">For your house stored with such things from threshold to rafter.</span>
+<span class="i4">&mdash;Pass by me, I hearken, and think of you not!</span>
+</div></div>
+<br /><br />
+
+<h4>4.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Love is enough</span>: ho ye who seek saving,</span>
+<span class="i2">Go no further; come hither; there have been who have found it,</span>
+<span class="i0">And these know the House of Fulfilment of Craving;</span>
+<span class="i2">These know the Cup with the roses around it;</span>
+<span class="i2">These know the World's Wound and the balm that hath bound it:</span>
+<span class="i0">Cry out, the World heedeth not, "Love, lead us home!"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">He leadeth, He hearkeneth, He cometh to you-ward;</span>
+<span class="i2">Set your faces as steel to the fears that assemble</span>
+<span class="i0">Round his goad for the faint, and his scourge for the froward:</span>
+<span class="i2">Lo! his lips, how with tales of last kisses they tremble!</span>
+<span class="i2">Lo! his eyes of all sorrow that may not dissemble!</span>
+<span class="i0">Cry out, for he heedeth, "O Love, lead us home!"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">O hearken the words of his voice of compassion:</span>
+<span class="i2">"Come cling round about me, ye faithful who sicken</span>
+<span class="i0">Of the weary unrest and the world's passing fashion!</span>
+<span class="i2">As the rain in mid-morning your troubles shall thicken,</span>
+<span class="i2">But surely within you some Godhead doth quicken,</span>
+<span class="i0">As ye cry to me heeding, and leading you home.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Come&mdash;pain ye shall have, and be blind to the ending!</span>
+<span class="i2">Come&mdash;fear ye shall have, mid the sky's overcasting!</span>
+<span class="i0">Come&mdash;change ye shall have, for far are ye wending!</span>
+<span class="i2">Come&mdash;no crown ye shall have for your thirst and your fasting,</span>
+<span class="i2">But the kissed lips of Love and fair life everlasting!</span>
+<span class="i0">Cry out, for one heedeth, who leadeth you home!"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Is he gone? was he with us?&mdash;ho ye who seek saving,</span>
+<span class="i2">Go no further; come hither; for have we not found it?</span>
+<span class="i0">Here is the House of Fulfilment of Craving;</span>
+<span class="i2">Here is the Cup with the roses around it;</span>
+<span class="i2">The World's Wound well healed, and the balm that hath bound it:</span>
+<span class="i0">Cry out! for he heedeth, fair Love that led home.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+<h3>FROM</h3>
+
+<h2>"THE STORY OF SIGURD THE VOLSUNG."</h2>
+
+<h3>BOOK II.</h3>
+
+<h2><a name="REGIN" id="REGIN"></a>R E G I N.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Now this is the first book of the life and death of Sigurd the Volsung,
+and therein is told of the birth of him, and of his dealings with Regin
+the master of masters, and of his deeds in the waste places of the
+earth.</p>
+
+<h3><i>Of the birth of Sigurd the son of Sigmund.</i></h3>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Peace</span> lay on the land of the Helper and the house of Elf his son;</span>
+<span class="i0">There merry men went bedward when their tide of toil was done,</span>
+<span class="i0">And glad was the dawn's awakening, and the noontide fair and glad:</span>
+<span class="i0">There no great store had the franklin, and enough the hireling had;</span>
+<span class="i0">And a child might go unguarded the length and breadth of the land</span>
+<span class="i0">With a purse of gold at his girdle and gold rings on his hand.</span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas a country of cunning craftsmen, and many a thing they wrought,</span>
+<span class="i0">That the lands of storm desired, and the homes of warfare sought.</span>
+<span class="i0">But men deemed it o'er-well warded by more than its stems of fight,</span>
+<span class="i0">And told how its earth-born watchers yet lived of plenteous might.</span>
+<span class="i0">So hidden was that country, and few men sailed its sea,</span>
+<span class="i0">And none came o'er its mountains of men-folk's company.</span>
+<span class="i0">But fair-fruited, many-peopled, it lies a goodly strip,</span>
+<span class="i0">'Twixt the mountains cloudy-headed and the sea-flood's surging lip,</span>
+<span class="i0">And a perilous flood is its ocean, and its mountains, who shall tell</span>
+<span class="i0">What things in their dales deserted and their wind-swept heaths may dwell.</span>
+<span class="i0">Now a man of the Kings, called Gripir, in this land of peace abode:</span>
+<span class="i0">The son of the Helper's father, though never lay his load</span>
+<span class="i0">In the womb of the mother of Kings that the Helper's brethren bore;</span>
+<span class="i0">But of Giant kin was his mother, of the folk that are seen no more;</span>
+<span class="i0">Though whiles as ye ride some fell-road across the heath there comes</span>
+<span class="i0">The voice of their lone lamenting o'er their changed and conquered homes.</span>
+<span class="i0">A long way off from the sea-strand and beneath the mountains' feet</span>
+<span class="i0">Is the high-built hall of Gripir, where the waste and the tillage meet;</span>
+<span class="i0">A noble and plentiful house, that a little men-folk fear,</span>
+<span class="i0">But beloved of the crag-dwelling eagles and the kin of the woodland deer.</span>
+<span class="i0">A man of few words was Gripir, but he knew of all deeds that had been,</span>
+<span class="i0">And times there came upon him, when the deeds to be were seen:</span>
+<span class="i0">No sword had he held in his hand since his father fell to field,</span>
+<span class="i0">And against the life of the slayer he bore undinted shield:</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet no fear in his heart abided, nor desired he aught at all,</span>
+<span class="i0">But he noted the deeds that had been, and looked for what should befall.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Again, in the house of the Helper there dwelt a certain man</span>
+<span class="i0">Beardless and low of stature, of visage pinched and wan:</span>
+<span class="i0">So exceeding old was Regin, that no son of man could tell</span>
+<span class="i0">In what year of the days passed over he came to that land to dwell;</span>
+<span class="i0">But the youth of King Elf had he fostered, and the Helper's youth thereto,</span>
+<span class="i0">Yes and his father's father's: the lore of all men he knew,</span>
+<span class="i0">And was deft in every cunning, save the dealings of the sword:</span>
+<span class="i0">So sweet was his tongue-speech fashioned, that men trowed his every word;</span>
+<span class="i0">His hand with the harp-strings blended was the mingler of delight</span>
+<span class="i0">With the latter days of sorrow; all tales he told aright;</span>
+<span class="i0">The Master of the Masters in the smithying craft was he;</span>
+<span class="i0">And he dealt with the wind and the weather and the stilling of the sea;</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor might any learn him leech-craft, for before that race was made,</span>
+<span class="i0">And that man-folk's generation, all their life-days had he weighed.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">In this land abideth Hiordis amid all people's praise</span>
+<span class="i0">Till cometh the time appointed: in the fulness of the days</span>
+<span class="i0">Through the dark and the dusk she travailed, till at last in the dawning hour</span>
+<span class="i0">Have the deeds of the Volsungs blossomed, and born their latest flower;</span>
+<span class="i0">In the bed there lieth a man child, and his eyes look straight on the sun,</span>
+<span class="i0">And lo, the hope of the people, and the days of a king are begun.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Men say of the serving-women, when they cried on the joy of the morn,</span>
+<span class="i0">When they handled the linen raiment, and washed the king new-born,</span>
+<span class="i0">When they bore him back unto Hiordis, and the weary and happy breast,</span>
+<span class="i0">And bade her be glad to behold it, how the best was sprung from the best,</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet they shrank in their rejoicing before the eyes of the child,</span>
+<span class="i0">So bright and dreadful were they; yea though the spring morn smiled,</span>
+<span class="i0">And a thousand birds were singing round the fair familiar home,</span>
+<span class="i0">And still as on other mornings they saw folk go and come,</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet the hour seemed awful to them, and the hearts within them burned</span>
+<span class="i0">As though of fateful matters their souls were newly learned.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">But Hiordis looked on the Volsung, on her grief and her fond desire,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the hope of her heart was quickened, and her joy was a living fire;</span>
+<span class="i0">And she said: "Now one of the earthly on the eyes of my child hath gazed</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor shrunk before their glory, nor stayed her love amazed:</span>
+<span class="i0">I behold thee as Sigmund beholdeth,&mdash;and I was the home of thine heart&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">Woe's me for the day when thou wert not, and the hour when we shall part!"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then she held him a little season on her weary and happy breast</span>
+<span class="i0">And she told him of Sigmund and Volsung and the best sprung forth from the best:</span>
+<span class="i0">She spake to the new-born baby as one who might understand,</span>
+<span class="i0">And told him of Sigmund's battle, and the dead by the sea-flood's strand,</span>
+<span class="i0">And of all the wars passed over, and the light with darkness blent.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">So she spake, and the sun rose higher, and her speech at last was spent,</span>
+<span class="i0">And she gave him back to the women to bear forth to the people's kings,</span>
+<span class="i0">That they too may rejoice in her glory and her day of happy things.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">But there sat the Helper of Men with King Elf and Earls in the hall,</span>
+<span class="i0">And they spake of the deeds that had been, and told of the times to befall,</span>
+<span class="i0">And they hearkened and heard sweet voices and the sound of harps draw nigh,</span>
+<span class="i0">Till their hearts were exceeding merry and they knew not wherefore or why:</span>
+<span class="i0">Then, lo, in the hall white raiment, as thither the damsels came,</span>
+<span class="i0">And amid the hands of the foremost was the woven gold aflame.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"O daughters of earls," said the Helper, "what tidings then do ye bear?</span>
+<span class="i0">Is it grief in the merry morning, or joy or wonder or fear?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Quoth the first: "It is grief for the foemen that the Masters of God-home would grieve."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Said the next: "'Tis a wonder of wonders, that the hearkening world shall believe."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"A fear of all fears," said the third, "for the sword is uplifted on men."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"A joy of all joys," said the fourth, "once come, it comes not again!"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Lo, son," said the ancient Helper, "glad sit the earls and the lords!</span>
+<span class="i0">Lookst thou not for a token of tidings to follow such-like words?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Saith King Elf: "Great words of women! or great hath our dwelling become."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Said the women: "Words shall be greater, when all folk shall praise our home."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"What then hath betid," said King Elf, "do the high Gods stand in our gate?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Nay," said they, "else were we silent, and they should be telling of fate."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Is the bidding come," said the Helper, "that we wend the Gods to see?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Many summers and winters," they said, "ye shall live on the earth, it may be."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Said a young man: "Will ye be telling that all we shall die no more?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Nay," they answered, "nay, who knoweth but the change may be hard at the door?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Come ships from the sea," said an elder, "with all gifts of the Eastland gold?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Was there less than enough," said the women, "when last our treasure was told?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Speak then," said the ancient Helper, "let the worst and the best be said."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Quoth they: "'Tis the Queen of the Isle-folk, she is weary-sick on her bed."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Said King Elf: "Yet ye come rejoicing; what more lieth under the tongue?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">They said: "The earth is weary; but the tender blade hath sprung,</span>
+<span class="i0">That shall wax till beneath its branches fair bloom the meadows green;</span>
+<span class="i0">For the Gods and they that were mighty were glad erewhile with the Queen."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Said King Elf: "How say ye, women? Of a King new-born do ye tell</span>
+<span class="i0">By a God of the Heavens begotten in our fathers' house to dwell?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"By a God of the Earth," they answered; "but greater yet is the son,</span>
+<span class="i0">Though long were the days of Sigmund, and great are the deeds he hath done."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then she with the golden burden to the kingly high-seat stepped</span>
+<span class="i0">And away from the new-born baby the purple cloths she swept,</span>
+<span class="i0">And cried: "O King of the people, long mayst thou live in bliss,</span>
+<span class="i0">As our hearts to-day are happy! Queen Hiordis sends thee this,</span>
+<span class="i0">And she saith that the world shall call it by the name that thou shalt name;</span>
+<span class="i0">Now the gift to thee is given, and to thee is brought the fame."</span>
+</div></div>
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then e'en as a man astonied King Elf the Volsung took,</span>
+<span class="i0">While his feast-hall's ancient timbers with the cry of the earl-folk shook;</span>
+<span class="i0">For the eyes of the child gleamed on him till he was as one who sees</span>
+<span class="i0">The very Gods arising mid their carven images:</span>
+<span class="i0">To his ears there came a murmur of far seas beneath the wind</span>
+<span class="i0">And the tramp of fierce-eyed warriors through the outland forest blind;</span>
+<span class="i0">The sound of hosts of battle, cries round the hoisted shield,</span>
+<span class="i0">Low talk of the gathered wise-ones in the Goth-folk's holy field:</span>
+<span class="i0">So the thought in a little moment through King Elf the Mighty ran</span>
+<span class="i0">Of the years and their building and burden, and toil of the sons of man,</span>
+<span class="i0">The joy of folk and their sorrow, and the hope of deeds to do:</span>
+<span class="i0">With the love of many peoples was the wise king smitten through,</span>
+<span class="i0">As he hung o'er the new-born Volsung: but at last he raised his head,</span>
+<span class="i0">And looked forth kind o'er his people, and spake aloud and said:</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"O Sigmund King of Battle; O man of many days,</span>
+<span class="i0">Whom I saw mid the shields of the fallen and the dead men's silent praise,</span>
+<span class="i0">Lo, how hath the dark tide perished and the dawn of day begun!</span>
+<span class="i0">And now, O mighty Sigmund, wherewith shall we name thy son?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">But there rose up a man most ancient, and he cried: "Hail Dawn of the Day!</span>
+<span class="i0">How many things shalt thou quicken, how many shalt thou slay!</span>
+<span class="i0">How many things shalt thou waken, how many lull to sleep!</span>
+<span class="i0">How many things shalt thou scatter, how many gather and keep!</span>
+<span class="i0">O me, how thy love shall cherish, how thine hate shall wither and burn!</span>
+<span class="i0">How the hope shall be sped from thy right hand, nor the fear to thy left return!</span>
+<span class="i0">O thy deeds that men shall sing of! O thy deeds that the Gods shall see!</span>
+<span class="i0">O SIGURD, Son of the Volsungs, O Victory yet to be!"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Men heard the name and they knew it, and they caught it up in the air,</span>
+<span class="i0">And it went abroad by the windows and the doors of the feast-hall fair,</span>
+<span class="i0">It went through street and market; o'er meadow and acre it went,</span>
+<span class="i0">And over the wind-stirred forest and the dearth of the sea-beat bent,</span>
+<span class="i0">And over the sea-flood's welter, till the folk of the fishers heard,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the hearts of the isle-abiders on the sun-scorched rocks were stirred.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">But the Queen in her golden chamber, the name she hearkened and knew;</span>
+<span class="i0">And she heard the flock of the women, as back to the chamber they drew,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the name of Sigurd entered, and the body of Sigurd was come,</span>
+<span class="i0">And it was as if Sigmund were living and she still in her lovely home;</span>
+<span class="i0">Of all folk of the world was she well, and a soul fulfilled of rest</span>
+<span class="i0">As alone in the chamber she wakened and Sigurd cherished her breast.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">But men feast in the merry noontide, and glad is the April green</span>
+<span class="i0">That a Volsung looks on the sunlight and the night and the darkness have been.</span>
+<span class="i0">Earls think of marvellous stories, and along the golden strings</span>
+<span class="i0">Flit words of banded brethren and names of war-fain Kings:</span>
+<span class="i0">All the days of the deeds of Sigmund who was born so long ago;</span>
+<span class="i0">All deeds of the glorious Signy, and her tarrying-tide of woe;</span>
+<span class="i0">Men tell of the years of Volsung, and how long agone it was</span>
+<span class="i0">That he changed his life in battle, and brought the tale to pass:</span>
+<span class="i0">Then goeth the word of the Giants, and the world seems waxen old</span>
+<span class="i0">For the dimness of King Rerir and the tale of his warfare told:</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet unhushed are the singers' voices, nor yet the harp-strings cease</span>
+<span class="i0">While yet is left a rumour of the mirk-wood's broken peace,</span>
+<span class="i0">And of Sigi the very ancient, and the unnamed Sons of God,</span>
+<span class="i0">Of the days when the Lords of Heaven full oft the world-ways trod.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">So stilleth the wind in the even and the sun sinks down in the sea,</span>
+<span class="i0">And men abide the morrow and the Victory yet to be.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h4><i>Sigurd getteth to him the horse that is called Greyfell.</i></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now waxeth the son of Sigmund in might and goodliness,</span>
+<span class="i0">And soft the days win over, and all men his beauty bless.</span>
+<span class="i0">But amidst the summer season was the Isle-queen Hiordis wed</span>
+<span class="i0">To King Elf the son of the Helper, and fair their life-days sped.</span>
+<span class="i0">Peace lay on the land for ever, and the fields gave good increase,</span>
+<span class="i0">And there was Sigurd waxing mid the plenty and the peace.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Now hath the child grown greater, and is keen and eager of wit</span>
+<span class="i0">And full of understanding, and oft hath the joy to sit</span>
+<span class="i0">Amid talk of weighty matters when the wise men meet for speech;</span>
+<span class="i0">And joyous he is moreover and blithe and kind with each.</span>
+<span class="i0">But Regin the wise craftsmaster heedeth the youngling well,</span>
+<span class="i0">And before the Kings he cometh, and saith such words to tell.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"I have fostered thy youth, King Elf, and thine O Helper of men,</span>
+<span class="i0">And ye wot that such a master no king shall see again;</span>
+<span class="i0">And now would I foster Sigurd; for, though he be none of thy blood,</span>
+<span class="i0">Mine heart of his days that shall be speaketh abundant good."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then spake the Helper of men-folk: "Yea, do herein thy will:</span>
+<span class="i0">For thou art the Master of Masters, and hast learned me all my skill:</span>
+<span class="i0">But think how bright is this youngling, and thy guile from him withhold;</span>
+<span class="i0">For this craft of thine hath shown me that thy heart is grim and cold,</span>
+<span class="i0">Though three men's lives thrice over thy wisdom might not learn;</span>
+<span class="i0">And I love this son of Sigmund, and mine heart to him doth yearn."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then Regin laughed, and answered: "I doled out cunning to thee;</span>
+<span class="i0">But nought with him will I measure: yet no cold-heart shall he be,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor grim, nor evil-natured: for whate'er my will might frame,</span>
+<span class="i0">Gone forth is the word of the Norns, that abideth ever the same.</span>
+<span class="i0">And now, despite my cunning, how deem ye I shall die?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">And they said he would live as he listed, and at last in peace should lie</span>
+<span class="i0">When he listed to live no longer; so mighty and wise he was.</span>
+<span class="i0">But again he laughed and answered: "One day it shall come to pass,</span>
+<span class="i0">That a beardless youth shall slay me: I know the fateful doom;</span>
+<span class="i0">But nought may I withstand it, as it heaves up dim through the gloom."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">So is Sigurd now with Regin, and he learns him many things;</span>
+<span class="i0">Yea, all save the craft of battle, that men learned the sons of kings:</span>
+<span class="i0">The smithying sword and war-coat; the carving runes aright;</span>
+<span class="i0">The tongues of many countries, and soft speech for men's delight;</span>
+<span class="i0">The dealing with the harp-strings, and the winding ways of song.</span>
+<span class="i0">So wise of heart waxed Sigurd, and of body wondrous strong:</span>
+<span class="i0">And he chased the deer of the forest, and many a wood-wolf slew,</span>
+<span class="i0">And many a bull of the mountains: and the desert dales he knew,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the heaths that the wind sweeps over; and seaward would he fare,</span>
+<span class="i0">Far out from the outer skerries, and alone the sea-wights dare.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">On a day he sat with Regin amidst the unfashioned gold,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the silver grey from the furnace; and Regin spake and told</span>
+<span class="i0">Sweet tales of the days that have been, and the Kings of the bold and wise;</span>
+<span class="i0">Till the lad's heart swelled with longing and lit his sunbright eyes.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then Regin looked upon him: "Thou too shalt one day ride</span>
+<span class="i0">As the Volsung Kings went faring through the noble world and wide.</span>
+<span class="i0">For this land is nought and narrow, and Kings of the carles are these,</span>
+<span class="i0">And their earls are acre-biders, and their hearts are dull with peace."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">But Sigurd knit his brows, and in wrathful wise he said:</span>
+<span class="i0">"Ill words of those thou speakest that my youth have cherished,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the friends that have made me merry, and the land that is fair and good."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then Regin laughed and answered: "Nay, well I see by thy mood</span>
+<span class="i0">That wide wilt thou ride in the world like thy kin of the earlier days:</span>
+<span class="i0">And wilt thou be wroth with thy master that he longs for thy winning the praise?</span>
+<span class="i0">And now if the sooth thou sayest, that these King-folk cherish thee well,</span>
+<span class="i0">Then let them give thee a gift whereof the world shall tell:</span>
+<span class="i0">Yea hearken to this my counsel, and crave for a battle-steed."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Yet wroth was the lad and answered: "I have many a horse to my need,</span>
+<span class="i0">And all that the heart desireth, and what wouldst thou wish me more?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then Regin answered and said: "Thy kin of the Kings of yore</span>
+<span class="i0">Were the noblest men of men-folk; and their hearts would never rest</span>
+<span class="i0">Whatso of good they had gotten, if their hands held not the best.</span>
+<span class="i0">Now do thou after my counsel, and crave of thy fosterers here</span>
+<span class="i0">That thou choose of the horses of Gripir whichso thine heart holds dear."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">He spake and his harp was with him, and he smote the strings full sweet,</span>
+<span class="i0">And sang of the host of the Valkyrs, how they ride the battle to meet,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the dew from the dear manes drippeth as they ride in the first of the sun,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the tree-boughs open to meet it when the wind of the dawning is done:</span>
+<span class="i0">And the deep dales drink its sweetness and spring into blossoming grass,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the earth groweth fruitful of men, and bringeth their glory to pass.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then the wrath ran off from Sigurd, and he left the smithying stead</span>
+<span class="i0">While the song yet rang in the doorway: and that eve to the Kings he said:</span>
+<span class="i0">"Will ye do so much for mine asking as to give me a horse to my will?</span>
+<span class="i0">For belike the days shall come, that shall all my heart fulfill,</span>
+<span class="i0">And teach me the deeds of a king."</span>
+<span class="i8">Then answered King Elf and spake:</span>
+<span class="i0">"The stalls of the Kings are before thee to set aside or to take,</span>
+<span class="i0">And nought we begrudge thee the best."</span>
+<span class="i8">Yet answered Sigurd again;</span>
+<span class="i0">For his heart of the mountains aloft and the windy drift was fain:</span>
+<span class="i0">"Fair seats for the knees of Kings! but now do I ask for a gift</span>
+<span class="i0">Such as all the world shall be praising, the best of the strong and the swift.</span>
+<span class="i0">Ye shall give me a token for Gripir, and bid him to let me choose</span>
+<span class="i0">From out of the noble stud-beasts that run in his meadow loose.</span>
+<span class="i0">But if overmuch I have asked you, forget this prayer of mine,</span>
+<span class="i0">And deem the word unspoken, and get ye to the wine."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then smiled King Elf, and answered: "A long way wilt thou ride,</span>
+<span class="i0">To where unpeace and troubles and the griefs of the soul abide,</span>
+<span class="i0">Yea unto the death at the last: yet surely shalt thou win</span>
+<span class="i0">The praise of many a people: so have thy way herein.</span>
+<span class="i0">Forsooth no more may we hold thee than the hazel copse may hold</span>
+<span class="i0">The sun of the early dawning, that turneth it all unto gold."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then sweetly Sigurd thanked them; and through the night he lay</span>
+<span class="i0">Mid dreams of many a matter till the dawn was on the way;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then he shook the sleep from off him, and that dwelling of Kings he left</span>
+<span class="i0">And wended his ways unto Gripir. On a crag from the mountain reft</span>
+<span class="i0">Was the house of the old King builded; and a mighty house it was,</span>
+<span class="i0">Though few were the sons of men that over its threshold would pass:</span>
+<span class="i0">But the wild ernes cried about it, and the vultures toward it flew,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the winds from the heart of the mountains searched every chamber through,</span>
+<span class="i0">And about were meads wide-spreading; and many a beast thereon,</span>
+<span class="i0">Yea some that are men-folk's terror, their sport and pasture won.</span>
+<span class="i0">So into the hall went Sigurd; and amidst was Gripir set</span>
+<span class="i0">In a chair of the sea-beast's tooth; and his sweeping beard nigh met</span>
+<span class="i0">The floor that was green as the ocean, and his gown was of mountain-gold</span>
+<span class="i0">And the kingly staff in his hand was knobbed with the crystal cold.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Now the first of the twain spake Gripir: "Hail King with the eyen bright!</span>
+<span class="i0">Nought needest thou show the token, for I know of thy life and thy light.</span>
+<span class="i0">And no need to tell of thy message; it was wafted here on the wind,</span>
+<span class="i0">That thou wouldst be coming to-day a horse in my meadow to find:</span>
+<span class="i0">And strong must he be for the bearing of those deeds of thine that shall be.</span>
+<span class="i0">Now choose thou of all the way-wearers that are running loose in my lea,</span>
+<span class="i0">And be glad as thine heart will have thee and the fate that leadeth thee on,</span>
+<span class="i0">And I bid thee again come hither when the sword of worth is won,</span>
+<span class="i0">And thy loins are girt for thy going on the road that before thee lies;</span>
+<span class="i0">For a glimmering over its darkness is come before mine eyes."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then again gat Sigurd outward, and adown the steep he ran</span>
+<span class="i0">And unto the horse-fed meadow: but lo, a grey-clad man,</span>
+<span class="i0">One-eyed and seeming-ancient, there met him by the way:</span>
+<span class="i0">And he spake: "Thou hastest, Sigurd; yet tarry till I say</span>
+<span class="i0">A word that shall well bestead thee: for I know of these mountains well</span>
+<span class="i0">And all the lea of Gripir, and the beasts that thereon dwell."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Wouldst thou have red gold for thy tidings? art thou Gripir's horse-herd then?</span>
+<span class="i0">Nay sure, for thy face is shining like battle-eager men</span>
+<span class="i0">My master Regin tells of: and I love thy cloud-grey gown</span>
+<span class="i0">And thy visage gleams above it like a thing my dreams have known."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Nay whiles have I heeded the horse-kind," then spake that elder of days,</span>
+<span class="i0">"And sooth do the sages say, when the beasts of my breeding they praise.</span>
+<span class="i0">There is one thereof in the meadow, and, wouldst thou cull him out,</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou shalt follow an elder's counsel, who hath brought strange things about,</span>
+<span class="i0">Who hath known thy father aforetime, and other kings of thy kin."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">So Sigurd said, "I am ready; and what is the deed to win?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">He said: "We shall drive the horses adown to the water-side,</span>
+<span class="i0">That cometh forth from the mountains, and note what next shall betide."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then the twain sped on together, and they drave the horses on</span>
+<span class="i0">Till they came to a rushing river a water wide and wan;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the white mews hovered o'er it; but none might hear their cry</span>
+<span class="i0">For the rush and the rattle of waters, as the downlong flood swept by.</span>
+<span class="i0">So the whole herd took the river and strove the stream to stem,</span>
+<span class="i0">And many a brave steed was there; but the flood o'ermastered them:</span>
+<span class="i0">And some, it swept them down-ward, and some won back to bank,</span>
+<span class="i0">Some, caught by the net of the eddies, in the swirling hubbub sank;</span>
+<span class="i0">But one of all swam over, and they saw his mane of grey</span>
+<span class="i0">Toss over the flowery meadows, a bright thing far away:</span>
+<span class="i0">Wide then he wheeled about them, then took the stream again</span>
+<span class="i0">And with the waves' white horses mingled his cloudy mane.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then spake the elder of days: "Hearken now, Sigurd, and hear;</span>
+<span class="i0">Time was when I gave thy father a gift thou shalt yet deem dear,</span>
+<span class="i0">And this horse is a gift of my giving:&mdash;heed nought where thou mayst ride:</span>
+<span class="i0">For I have seen thy fathers in a shining house abide,</span>
+<span class="i0">And on earth they thought of its threshold, and the gifts I had to give;</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor prayed for a little longer, and a little longer to live."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then forth he strode to the mountains, and fain was Sigurd now</span>
+<span class="i0">To ask him many a matter: but dim did his bright shape grow,</span>
+<span class="i0">As a man from the litten doorway fades into the dusk of night;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the sun in the high-noon shone, and the world was exceeding bright.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">So Sigurd turned to the river and stood by the wave-wet strand,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the grey horse swims to his feet and lightly leaps aland,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the youngling looks upon him, and deems none beside him good.</span>
+<span class="i0">And indeed, as tells the story, he was come of Sleipnir's blood,</span>
+<span class="i0">The tireless horse of Odin: cloud-grey he was of hue,</span>
+<span class="i0">And it seemed as Sigurd backed him that Sigmund's son he knew,</span>
+<span class="i0">So glad he went beneath him. Then the youngling's song arose</span>
+<span class="i0">As he brushed through the noon-tide blossoms of Gripir's mighty close,</span>
+<span class="i0">Then he singeth the song of Greyfell, the horse that Odin gave,</span>
+<span class="i0">Who swam through the sweeping river, and back through the toppling wave.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><i>Regin telleth Sigurd of his kindred, and of the Gold that was accursed from ancient days.</i></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now yet the days pass over, and more than words may tell</span>
+<span class="i0">Grows Sigurd strong and lovely, and all children love him well.</span>
+<span class="i0">But oft he looks on the mountains and many a time is fain</span>
+<span class="i0">To know of what lies beyond them, and learn of the wide world's gain.</span>
+<span class="i0">And he saith: "I dwell in a land that is ruled by none of my blood;</span>
+<span class="i0">And my mother's sons are waxing, and fair kings shall they be and good;</span>
+<span class="i0">And their servant or their betrayer&mdash;not one of these will I be.</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet needs must I wait for a little till Odin calls for me."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Now again it happed on a day that he sat in Regin's hall</span>
+<span class="i0">And hearkened many tidings of what had chanced to fall,</span>
+<span class="i0">And of kings that sought their kingdoms o'er many a waste and wild,</span>
+<span class="i0">And at last saith the crafty master:</span>
+<span class="i8">"Thou art King Sigmund's child:</span>
+<span class="i0">Wilt thou wait till these kings of the carles shall die in a little land,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or wilt thou serve their sons and carry the cup to their hand;</span>
+<span class="i0">Or abide in vain for the day that never shall come about,</span>
+<span class="i0">When their banners shall dance in the wind and shake to the war-gods' shout?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then Sigurd answered and said: "Nought such do I look to be.</span>
+<span class="i0">But thou, a deedless man, too much thou eggest me:</span>
+<span class="i0">And these folk are good and trusty, and the land is lovely and sweet,</span>
+<span class="i0">And in rest and in peace it lieth as the floor of Odin's feet:</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet I know that the world is wide, and filled with deeds unwrought;</span>
+<span class="i0">And for e'en such work was I fashioned, lest the song-craft come to nought,</span>
+<span class="i0">When the harps of God-home tinkle, and the Gods are at stretch to hearken;</span>
+<span class="i0">Lest the hosts of the Gods be scanty when their day hath begun to darken,</span>
+<span class="i0">When the bonds of the Wolf wax thin, and Loki fretteth his chain.</span>
+<span class="i0">And sure for the house of my fathers full oft my heart is fain,</span>
+<span class="i0">And meseemeth I hear them talking of the day when I shall come,</span>
+<span class="i0">And of all the burden of deeds, that my hand shall bear them home.</span>
+<span class="i0">And so when the deed is ready, nowise the man shall lack:</span>
+<span class="i0">But the wary foot is the surest, and the hasty oft turns back."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then answered Regin the guileful: "The deed is ready to hand,</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet holding my peace is the best, for well thou lovest the land;</span>
+<span class="i0">And thou lovest thy life moreover, and the peace of thy youthful days,</span>
+<span class="i0">And why should the full-fed feaster his hand to the rye-bread raise?</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet they say that Sigmund begat thee and he looked to fashion a man.</span>
+<span class="i0">Fear nought; he lieth quiet in his mound by the sea-waves wan."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">So shone the eyes of Sigurd, that the shield against him hung</span>
+<span class="i0">Cast back their light as the sunbeams; but his voice to the roof-tree rung:</span>
+<span class="i0">"Tell me, thou Master of Masters, what deed is the deed I shall do?</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor mock thou the son of Sigmund lest the day of his birth thou rue."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then answered the Master of Sleight: "The deed is the righting of wrong,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the quelling a bale and a sorrow that the world hath endured o'erlong,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the winning a treasure untold, that shall make thee more than the kings;</span>
+<span class="i0">Thereof is the Helm of Aweing, the wonder of earthly things,</span>
+<span class="i0">And thereof is its very fellow, the War-coat all of gold,</span>
+<span class="i0">That has not its like in the heavens, nor has earth of its fellow told."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then answered Sigurd the Volsung: "How long hereof hast thou known?</span>
+<span class="i0">And what unto thee is this treasure, that thou seemest to give as thine own?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Alas!" quoth the smithying master, "it is mine, yet none of mine</span>
+<span class="i0">Since my heart herein avails not, and my hand is frail and fine&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">It is long since I first came hither to seek a man for my need;</span>
+<span class="i0">For I saw by a glimmering light that hence would spring the deed,</span>
+<span class="i0">And many a deed of the world: but the generations passed,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the first of the days was as near to the end that I sought as the last;</span>
+<span class="i0">Till I looked on thine eyes in the cradle: and now I deem through thee,</span>
+<span class="i0">That the end of my days of waiting, and the end of my woes shall be."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then Sigurd awhile was silent; but at last he answered and said:</span>
+<span class="i0">"Thou shalt have thy will and the treasure, and shalt take the curse on thine head</span>
+<span class="i0">If a curse the gold enwrappeth: but the deed will I surely do,</span>
+<span class="i0">For to-day the dreams of my childhood have bloomed in my heart anew:</span>
+<span class="i0">And I long to look on the world and the glory of the earth</span>
+<span class="i0">And to deal in the dealings of men, and garner the harvest of worth.</span>
+<span class="i0">But tell me, thou Master of Masters, where lieth this measureless wealth;</span>
+<span class="i0">Is it guarded by swords of the earl-folk, or kept by cunning and stealth?</span>
+<span class="i0">Is it over the main sea's darkness, or beyond the mountain wall?</span>
+<span class="i0">Or e'en in these peaceful acres anigh to the hands of all?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then Regin answered sweetly: "Hereof must a tale be told:</span>
+<span class="i0">Bide sitting, thou son of Sigmund, on the heap of unwrought gold,</span>
+<span class="i0">And hearken of wondrous matters, and of things unheard, unsaid,</span>
+<span class="i0">And deeds of my beholding ere the first of Kings was made.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"And first ye shall know of a sooth, that I never was born of the race</span>
+<span class="i0">Which the masters of God-home have made to cover the fair earth's face;</span>
+<span class="i0">But I come of the Dwarfs departed; and fair was the earth whileome</span>
+<span class="i0">Ere the short-lived thralls of the Gods amidst its dales were come:&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">And how were we worse than the Gods, though maybe we lived not as long?</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet no weight of memory maimed us; nor aught we knew of wrong.</span>
+<span class="i0">What felt our souls of shaming, what knew our hearts of love?</span>
+<span class="i0">We did and undid at pleasure, and repented nought thereof.</span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;Yea we were exceeding mighty&mdash;bear with me yet, my son;</span>
+<span class="i0">For whiles can I scarcely think it that our days are wholly done.</span>
+<span class="i0">And trust not thy life in my hands in the day when most I seem</span>
+<span class="i0">Like the Dwarfs that are long departed, and most of my kindred I dream.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"So as we dwelt came tidings that the Gods amongst us were,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the people come from Asgard: then rose up hope and fear,</span>
+<span class="i0">And strange shapes of things went flitting betwixt the night and the eve,</span>
+<span class="i0">And our sons waxed wild and wrathful, and our daughters learned to grieve.</span>
+<span class="i0">Then we fell to the working of metal, and the deeps of the earth would know,</span>
+<span class="i0">And we dealt with venom and leechcraft, and we fashioned spear and bow,</span>
+<span class="i0">And we set the ribs to the oak-keel, and looked on the landless sea;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the world began to be such-like as the Gods would have it to be.</span>
+<span class="i0">In the womb of the woeful Earth had they quickened the grief and the gold.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"It was Reidmar the Ancient begat me; and now was he waxen old,</span>
+<span class="i0">And a covetous man and a king; and he bade, and I built him a hall,</span>
+<span class="i0">And a golden glorious house; and thereto his sons did he call,</span>
+<span class="i0">And he bade them be evil and wise, that his will through them might be wrought.</span>
+<span class="i0">Then he gave unto Fafnir my brother the soul that feareth nought,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the brow of the hardened iron, and the hand that may never fail,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the greedy heart of a king, and the ear that hears no wail.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"But next unto Otter my brother he gave the snare and the net</span>
+<span class="i0">And the longing to wend through the wild-wood, and wade the highways wet:</span>
+<span class="i0">And the foot that never resteth, while aught be left alive</span>
+<span class="i0">That hath cunning to match man's cunning or might with his might to strive.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"And to me, the least and the youngest, what gift for the slaying of ease?</span>
+<span class="i0">Save the grief that remembers the past, and the fear that the future sees;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the hammer and fashioning-iron, and the living coal of fire;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the craft that createth a semblance, and fails of the heart's desire;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the toil that each dawning quickens and the task that is never done,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the heart that longeth ever, nor will look to the deed that is won.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Thus gave my father the gifts that might never be taken again;</span>
+<span class="i0">Far worse were we now than the Gods, and but little better than men.</span>
+<span class="i0">But yet of our ancient might one thing had we left us still:</span>
+<span class="i0">We had craft to change our semblance, and could shift us at our will</span>
+<span class="i0">Into bodies of the beast-kind, or fowl, or fishes cold;</span>
+<span class="i0">For belike no fixed semblance we had in the days of old,</span>
+<span class="i0">Till the Gods were waxen busy, and all things their form must take</span>
+<span class="i0">That knew of good and evil, and longed to gather and make.</span>
+</div></div>
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"So dwelt we, brethren and father; and Fafnir my brother fared</span>
+<span class="i0">As the scourge and compeller of all things, and left no wrong undared;</span>
+<span class="i0">But for me, I toiled and I toiled; and fair grew my father's house;</span>
+<span class="i0">But writhen and foul were the hands that had made it glorious;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the love of women left me, and the fame of sword and shield:</span>
+<span class="i0">And the sun and the winds of heaven, and the fowl and the grass of the field</span>
+<span class="i0">Were grown as the tools of my smithy; and all the world I knew,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the glories that lie beyond it, and whitherward all things drew;</span>
+<span class="i0">And myself a little fragment amidst it all I saw,</span>
+<span class="i0">Grim, cold-heart, and unmighty as the tempest-driven straw.</span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;Let be.&mdash;For Otter my brother saw seldom field or fold,</span>
+<span class="i0">And he oftenest used that custom, whereof e'en now I told,</span>
+<span class="i0">And would shift his shape with the wood-beasts and the things of land and sea;</span>
+<span class="i0">And he knew what joy their hearts had, and what they longed to be,</span>
+<span class="i0">And their dim-eyed understanding, and his wood-craft waxed so great,</span>
+<span class="i0">That he seemed the king of the creatures and their very mortal fate.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Now as the years won over three folk of the heavenly halls</span>
+<span class="i0">Grew aweary of sleepless sloth, and the day that nought befalls;</span>
+<span class="i0">And they fain would look on the earth, and their latest handiwork,</span>
+<span class="i0">And turn the fine gold over, lest a flaw therein should lurk.</span>
+<span class="i0">And the three were the heart-wise Odin, the Father of the Slain,</span>
+<span class="i0">And Loki, the World's Begrudger, who maketh all labour vain,</span>
+<span class="i0">And H&aelig;nir, the Utter-Blameless, who wrought the hope of man,</span>
+<span class="i0">And his heart and inmost yearnings, when first the work began;&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;The God that was aforetime, and hereafter yet shall be</span>
+<span class="i0">When the new light yet undreamed of shall shine o'er earth and sea.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Thus about the world they wended and deemed it fair and good,</span>
+<span class="i0">And they loved their life-days dearly: so came they to the wood,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the lea without a shepherd and the dwellings of the deer,</span>
+<span class="i0">And unto a mighty water that ran from a fathomless mere.</span>
+<span class="i0">Now that flood my brother Otter had haunted many a day</span>
+<span class="i0">For its plenteous fruit of fishes; and there on the bank he lay</span>
+<span class="i0">As the Gods came wandering thither; and he slept, and in his dreams</span>
+<span class="i0">He saw the downlong river, and its fishy-peopled streams,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the swift smooth heads of its forces, and its swirling wells and deep,</span>
+<span class="i0">Where hang the pois&egrave;d fishes, and their watch in the rock-halls keep.</span>
+<span class="i0">And so, as he thought of it all, and its deeds and its wanderings,</span>
+<span class="i0">Whereby it ran to the sea down the road of scaly things,</span>
+<span class="i0">His body was changed with his thought, as yet was the wont of our kind,</span>
+<span class="i0">And he grew but an Otter indeed; and his eyes were sleeping and blind</span>
+<span class="i0">The while he devoured the prey, a golden red-flecked trout.</span>
+<span class="i0">Then passed by Odin and H&aelig;nir, nor cumbered their souls with doubt;</span>
+<span class="i0">But Loki lingered a little, and guile in his heart arose,</span>
+<span class="i0">And he saw through the shape of the Otter, and beheld a chief of his foes,</span>
+<span class="i0">A king of the free and the careless: so he called up his baleful might,</span>
+<span class="i0">And gathered his godhead together, and tore a shard outright</span>
+<span class="i0">From the rock-wall of the river, and across its green wells cast;</span>
+<span class="i0">And roaring over the waters that bolt of evil passed,</span>
+<span class="i0">And smote my brother Otter that his heart's life fled away,</span>
+<span class="i0">And bore his man's shape with it, and beast-like there he lay,</span>
+<span class="i0">Stark dead on the sun-lit blossoms: but the Evil God rejoiced,</span>
+<span class="i0">And because of the sound of his singing the wild grew many-voiced.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Then the three Gods waded the river, and no word H&aelig;nir spake,</span>
+<span class="i0">For his thoughts were set on God-home, and the day that is ever awake.</span>
+<span class="i0">But Odin laughed in his wrath, and murmured: 'Ah, how long,</span>
+<span class="i0">Till the iron shall ring on the anvil for the shackles of thy wrong!'</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Then Loki takes up the quarry, and is e'en as a man again;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the three wend on through the wild-wood till they come to a grassy plain</span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath the untrodden mountains; and lo! a noble house,</span>
+<span class="i0">And a hall with great craft fashioned, and made full glorious;</span>
+<span class="i0">But night on the earth was falling; so scantly might they see</span>
+<span class="i0">The wealth of its smooth-wrought stonework and its world of imagery:</span>
+<span class="i0">Then Loki bade turn thither since day was at an end,</span>
+<span class="i0">And into that noble dwelling the lords of God-home wend;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the porch was fair and mighty, and so smooth-wrought was its gold,</span>
+<span class="i0">That the mirrored stars of heaven therein might ye behold:</span>
+<span class="i0">But the hall, what words shall tell it, how fair it rose aloft,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the marvels of its windows, and its golden hangings soft,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the forest of its pillars! and each like the wave's heart shone</span>
+<span class="i0">And the mirrored boughs of the garden were dancing fair thereon.</span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;Long years agone was it builded, and where are its wonders now?</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Now the men of God-home marvelled, and gazed through the golden glow,</span>
+<span class="i0">And a man like a covetous king amidst of the hall they saw;</span>
+<span class="i0">And his chair was the tooth of the whale, wrought smooth with never a flaw;</span>
+<span class="i0">And his gown was the sea-born purple, and he bore a crown on his head,</span>
+<span class="i0">But never a sword was before him: kind-seeming words he said,</span>
+<span class="i0">And bade rest to the weary feet that had worn the wild so long.</span>
+<span class="i0">So they sat, and were men by seeming; and there rose up music and song,</span>
+<span class="i0">And they ate and drank and were merry: but amidst the glee of the cup</span>
+<span class="i0">They felt themselves tangled and caught, as when the net cometh up</span>
+<span class="i0">Before the folk of the 'firth, and the main sea lieth far off;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the laughter of lips they hearkened, and that hall-abider's scoff,</span>
+<span class="i0">As his face and his mocking eyes anigh to their faces drew,</span>
+<span class="i0">And their godhead was caught in the net, and no shift of creation they knew</span>
+<span class="i0">To escape from their man-like bodies; so great that day was the Earth.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Then spake the hall-abider: 'Where then is thy guileful mirth,</span>
+<span class="i0">And thy hall-glee gone, O Loki? Come, H&aelig;nir, fashion now</span>
+<span class="i0">My heart for love and for hope, that the fear in my body may grow,</span>
+<span class="i0">That I may grieve and be sorry, that the ruth may arise in me,</span>
+<span class="i0">As thou dealtst with the first of men-folk, when a master-smith thou wouldst be.</span>
+<span class="i0">And thou, Allfather Odin, hast thou come on a bastard brood?</span>
+<span class="i0">Or hadst thou belike a brother, thy twin for evil and good,</span>
+<span class="i0">That waked amidst thy slumber, and slumbered midst thy work?</span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, Wise-one, art thou silent as a child amidst the mirk?</span>
+<span class="i0">Ah, I know ye are called the Gods, and are mighty men at home,</span>
+<span class="i0">But now with a guilt on your heads to no feeble folk are ye come,</span>
+<span class="i0">To a folk that need you nothing: time was when we knew you not:</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet e'en then fresh was the winter, and the summer sun was hot,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the wood-meats stayed our hunger, and the water quenched our thirst,</span>
+<span class="i0">Ere the good and the evil wedded and begat the best and the worst.</span>
+<span class="i0">And how if to-day I undo it, that work of your fashioning,</span>
+<span class="i0">If the web of the world run backward, and the high heavens lack a King?</span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;Woe's me! for your ancient mastery shall help you at your need:</span>
+<span class="i0">If ye fill up the gulf of my longing and my empty heart of greed,</span>
+<span class="i0">And slake the flame ye have quickened, then may ye go your ways</span>
+<span class="i0">And get ye back to your kingship and the driving on of the days</span>
+<span class="i0">To the day of the gathered war-hosts, and the tide of your Fateful Gloom.</span>
+<span class="i0">Now nought may ye gainsay it that my mouth must speak the doom,</span>
+<span class="i0">For ye wot well I am Reidmar, and that there ye lie red-hand</span>
+<span class="i0">From the slaughtering of my offspring, and the spoiling of my land;</span>
+<span class="i0">For his death of my wold hath bereft me and every highway wet.</span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;Nay, Loki, naught avails it, well-fashioned is the net.</span>
+<span class="i0">Come forth, my son, my war-god, and show the Gods their work,</span>
+<span class="i0">And thou who mightst learn e'en Loki, if need were to lie or lurk!'</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"And there was I, I Regin, the smithier of the snare,</span>
+<span class="i0">And high up Fafnir towered with the brow that knew no fear,</span>
+<span class="i0">With the wrathful and pitiless heart that was born of my father's will,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the greed that the Gods had fashioned the fate of the earth to fulfill.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Then spake the Father of Men: 'We have wrought thee wrong indeed,</span>
+<span class="i0">And, wouldst thou amend it with wrong, thine errand must we speed;</span>
+<span class="i0">For I know of thine heart's desire, and the gold thou shalt nowise lack,</span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;Nor all the works of the gold. But best were thy word drawn back,</span>
+<span class="i0">If indeed the doom of the Norns be not utterly now gone forth.'</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Then Reidmar laughed and answered: 'So much is thy word of worth!</span>
+<span class="i0">And they call thee Odin for this, and stretch forth hands in vain,</span>
+<span class="i0">And pray for the gifts of a God who giveth and taketh again!</span>
+<span class="i0">It was better in times past over, when we prayed for nought at all,</span>
+<span class="i0">When no love taught us beseeching, and we had no troth to recall.</span>
+<span class="i0">Ye have changed the world, and it bindeth with the right and the wrong ye have made,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor may ye be Gods henceforward save the rightful ransom be paid.</span>
+<span class="i0">But perchance ye are weary of kingship, and will deal no more with the earth?</span>
+<span class="i0">Then curse the world, and depart, and sit in your changeless mirth;</span>
+<span class="i0">And there shall be no more kings, and battle and murder shall fail,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the world shall laugh and long not, nor weep, nor fashion the tale.'</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"So spake Reidmar the Wise; but the wrath burned through his word,</span>
+<span class="i0">And wasted his heart of wisdom; and there was Fafnir the Lord,</span>
+<span class="i0">And there was Regin the Wright, and they raged at their father's back:</span>
+<span class="i0">And all these cried out together with the voice of the sea-storm's wrack;</span>
+<span class="i0">'O hearken, Gods of the Goths! ye shall die, and we shall be Gods,</span>
+<span class="i0">And rule your men belov&egrave;d with bitter-heavy rods,</span>
+<span class="i0">And make them beasts beneath us, save to-day ye do our will,</span>
+<span class="i0">And pay us the ransom of blood, and our hearts with the gold fulfill.'</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"But Odin spake in answer, and his voice was awful and cold:</span>
+<span class="i0">'Give righteous doom, O Reidmar! say what ye will of the Gold!'</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Then Reidmar laughed in his heart, and his wrath and his wisdom fled,</span>
+<span class="i0">And nought but his greed abided; and he spake from his throne and said:</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"'Now hearken the doom I shall speak! Ye stranger-folk shall be free</span>
+<span class="i0">When ye give me the Flame of the Waters, the gathered Gold of the Sea,</span>
+<span class="i0">That Andvari hideth rejoicing in the wan realm pale as the grave;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the Master of Sleight shall fetch it, and the hand that never gave,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the heart that begrudgeth for ever shall gather and give and rue.</span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;Lo! this is the doom of the wise, and no doom shall be spoken anew.'</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Then Odin spake: 'It is well; the Curser shall seek for the curse;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the Greedy shall cherish the evil&mdash;and the seed of the Great they shall nurse.'</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"No word spake Reidmar the great, for the eyes of his heart were turned</span>
+<span class="i0">To the edge of the outer desert, so sore for the gold he yearned.</span>
+<span class="i0">But Loki I loosed from the toils, and he goeth his ways abroad;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the heart of Odin he knoweth, and where he shall seek the Hoard.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"There is a desert of dread in the uttermost part of the world,</span>
+<span class="i0">Where over a wall of mountains is a mighty water hurled,</span>
+<span class="i0">Whose hidden head none knoweth, nor where it meeteth the sea;</span>
+<span class="i0">And that force is the Force of Andvari, and an Elf of the Dark is he.</span>
+<span class="i0">In the cloud and the desert he dwelleth amid that land alone;</span>
+<span class="i0">And his work is the storing of treasure within his house of stone.</span>
+<span class="i0">Time was when he knew of wisdom, and had many a tale to tell</span>
+<span class="i0">Of the days before the Dwarf-age, and of what in that world befell:</span>
+<span class="i0">And he knew of the stars and the sun, and the worlds that come and go</span>
+<span class="i0">On the nether rim of heaven, and whence the wind doth blow,</span>
+<span class="i0">And how the sea hangs balanced betwixt the curving lands,</span>
+<span class="i0">And how all drew together for the first Gods' fashioning hands.</span>
+<span class="i0">But now is all gone from him, save the craft of gathering gold,</span>
+<span class="i0">And he heedeth nought of the summer, nor knoweth the winter cold,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor looks to the sun nor the snowfall, nor ever dreams of the sea,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor hath heard of the making of men-folk, nor of where the high Gods be:</span>
+<span class="i0">But ever he gripeth and gathereth, and he toileth hour by hour</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor knoweth the noon from the midnight as he looks on his stony bower,</span>
+<span class="i0">And saith: 'It is short, it is narrow for all I shall gather and get;</span>
+<span class="i0">For the world is but newly fashioned, and long shall its years be yet.'</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"There Loki fareth, and seeth in a land of nothing good,</span>
+<span class="i0">Far off o'er the empty desert, the reek of the falling flood</span>
+<span class="i0">Go up to the floor of heaven, and thither turn his feet</span>
+<span class="i0">As he weaveth the unseen meshes and the snare of strong deceit;</span>
+<span class="i0">So he cometh his ways to the water, where the glittering foam-bow glows,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the huge flood leaps the rock-wall and a green arch over it throws.</span>
+<span class="i0">There under the roof of water he treads the quivering floor,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the hush of the desert is felt amid the water's roar,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the bleak sun lighteth the wave-vault, and tells of the fruitless plain,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the showers that nourish nothing, and the summer come in vain.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"There did the great Guile-master his toils and his tangles set,</span>
+<span class="i0">And as wide as was the water, so wide was woven the net;</span>
+<span class="i0">And as dim as the Elf's remembrance did the meshes of it show;</span>
+<span class="i0">And he had no thought of sorrow, nor spared to come and go</span>
+<span class="i0">On his errands of griping and getting till he felt himself tangled and caught:</span>
+<span class="i0">Then back to his blinded soul was his ancient wisdom brought,</span>
+<span class="i0">And he saw his fall and his ruin, as a man by the lightning's flame</span>
+<span class="i0">Sees the garth all flooded by foemen; and again he remembered his name;</span>
+<span class="i0">And e'en as a book well written the tale of the Gods he knew,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the tale of the making of men, and much of the deeds they should do.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"But Loki took his man-shape, and laughed aloud and cried:</span>
+<span class="i0">'What fish of the ends of the earth is so strong and so feeble-eyed,</span>
+<span class="i0">That he draweth the pouch of my net on his road to the dwelling of Hell?</span>
+<span class="i0">What Elf that hath heard the gold growing, but hath heard not the light winds tell</span>
+<span class="i0">That the Gods with the world have been dealing and have fashioned men for the earth?</span>
+<span class="i0">Where is he that hath ridden the cloud-horse and measured the ocean's girth,</span>
+<span class="i0">But seen nought of the building of God-home nor the forging of the sword:</span>
+<span class="i0">Where then is the maker of nothing, the earless and eyeless lord?</span>
+<span class="i0">In the pouch of my net he lieth, with his head on the threshold of Hell!'</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Then the Elf lamented, and said: 'Thou knowst of my name full well:</span>
+<span class="i0">Andvari begotten of Oinn, whom the Dwarf-kind called the Wise,</span>
+<span class="i0">By the worst of the Gods is taken, the forge and the father of lies.'</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Said Loki: 'How of the Elf-kind, do they love their latter life,</span>
+<span class="i0">When their weal is all departed, and they lie alow in the strife?'</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Then Andvari groaned and answered: 'I know what thou wouldst have,</span>
+<span class="i0">The wealth mine own hands gathered, the gold that no man gave.'</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"'Come forth,' said Loki, 'and give it, and dwell in peace henceforth&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">Or die in the toils if thou listest, if thy life be nothing worth.'</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Full sore the Elf lamented, but he came before the God</span>
+<span class="i0">And the twain went into the rock-house and on fine gold they trod,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the walls shone bright, and brighter than the sun of the upper air.</span>
+<span class="i0">How great was that treasure of treasures: and the Helm of Dread was there;</span>
+<span class="i0">The world but in dreams had seen it; and there was the hauberk of gold;</span>
+<span class="i0">None other is in the heavens, nor has earth of its fellow told.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Then Loki bade the Elf-king bring all to the upper day,</span>
+<span class="i0">And he dight himself with his Godhead to bear the treasure away:</span>
+<span class="i0">So there in the dim grey desert, before the God of Guile,</span>
+<span class="i0">Great heaps of the hid-world's treasure the weary Elf must pile,</span>
+<span class="i0">And Loki looked on laughing: but, when it all was done,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the Elf was hurrying homeward, his finger gleamed in the sun:</span>
+<span class="i0">Then Loki cried: 'Thou art guileful: thou hast not learned the tale</span>
+<span class="i0">Of the wisdom that Gods have gotten and their might of all avail.</span>
+<span class="i0">Hither to me! that I learn thee of a many things to come;</span>
+<span class="i0">Or despite of all wilt thou journey to the dead man's deedless home.</span>
+<span class="i0">Come hither again to thy master, and give the ring to me;</span>
+<span class="i0">For meseems it is Loki's portion, and the Bale of Men shall it be.'</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Then the Elf drew off the gold-ring and stood with empty hand</span>
+<span class="i0">E'en where the flood fell over 'twixt the water and the land,</span>
+<span class="i0">And he gazed on the great Guile-master, and huge and grim he grew;</span>
+<span class="i0">And his anguish swelled within him, and the word of the Norns he knew;</span>
+<span class="i0">How that gold was the seed of gold to the wise and the shapers of things,</span>
+<span class="i0">The hoarders of hidden treasure, and the unseen glory of rings;</span>
+<span class="i0">But the seed of woe to the world and the foolish wasters of men,</span>
+<span class="i0">And grief to the generations that die and spring again:</span>
+<span class="i0">Then he cried:</span>
+<span class="i8">'There farest thou, Loki, and might I load thee worse</span>
+<span class="i0">Than with what thine ill heart beareth, then shouldst thou bear my curse:</span>
+<span class="i0">But for men a curse thou bearest: entangled in my gold,</span>
+<span class="i0">Amid my woe abideth another woe untold.</span>
+<span class="i0">Two brethren and a father, eight kings my grief shall slay;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the hearts of queens shall be broken, and their eyes shall loathe the day.</span>
+<span class="i0">Lo, how the wilderness blossoms! Lo, how the lonely lands</span>
+<span class="i0">Are waving with the harvest that fell from my gathering hands!'</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"But Loki laughed in silence, and swift in Godhead went,</span>
+<span class="i0">To the golden hall of Reidmar and the house of our content.</span>
+<span class="i0">But when that world of treasure was laid within our hall</span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas as if the sun were minded to live 'twixt wall and wall,</span>
+<span class="i0">And all we stood by and panted. Then Odin spake and said:</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"'O Kings, O folk of the Dwarf-kind, lo, the ransom duly paid!</span>
+<span class="i0">Will ye have this sun of the ocean, and reap the fruitful field,</span>
+<span class="i0">And garner up the harvest that earth therefrom shall yield?'</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"So he spake; but a little season nought answered Reidmar the wise</span>
+<span class="i0">But turned his face from the Treasure, and peered with eager eyes</span>
+<span class="i0">Endlong the hall and athwart it, as a man may chase about</span>
+<span class="i0">A ray of the sun of the morning that a naked sword throws out;</span>
+<span class="i0">And lo! from Loki's right-hand came the flash of the fruitful ring,</span>
+<span class="i0">And at last spake Reidmar scowling:</span>
+<span class="i8">'Ye wait for my yea-saying</span>
+<span class="i0">That your feet may go free on the earth, and the fear of my toils may be done;</span>
+<span class="i0">That then ye may say in your laughter: The fools of the time agone!</span>
+<span class="i0">The purblind eyes of the Dwarf-kind! they have gotten the garnered sheaf</span>
+<span class="i0">And have let their Masters depart with the Seed of Gold and of Grief:</span>
+<span class="i0">O Loki, friend of Allfather, cast down Andvari's Ring,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or the world shall yet turn backward and the high heavens lack a king.'</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Then Loki drew off the Elf-ring and cast it down on the heap,</span>
+<span class="i0">And forth as the gold met gold did the light of its glory leap:</span>
+<span class="i0">But he spake: 'It rejoiceth my heart that no whit of all ye shall lack,</span>
+<span class="i0">Lest the curse of the Elf-king cleave not, and ye 'scape the utter wrack.'</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Then laughed and answered Reidmar: 'I shall have it while I live,</span>
+<span class="i0">And that shall be long, meseemeth: for who is there may strive</span>
+<span class="i0">With my sword, the war-wise Fafnir, and my shield that is Regin the Smith?</span>
+<span class="i0">But if indeed I should die, then let men-folk deal therewith,</span>
+<span class="i0">And ride to the golden glitter through evil deeds and good.</span>
+<span class="i0">I will have my heart's desire, and do as the high Gods would.'</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Then I loosed the Gods from their shackles, and great they grew on the floor</span>
+<span class="i0">And into the night they gat them; but Odin turned by the door,</span>
+<span class="i0">And we looked not, little we heeded, for we grudged his mastery;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then he spake, and his voice was waxen as the voice of the winter sea:</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"'O Kings, O folk of the Dwarfs, why then will ye covet and rue?</span>
+<span class="i0">I have seen your fathers' fathers and the dust wherefrom they grew;</span>
+<span class="i0">But who hath heard of my father or the land where first I sprung?</span>
+<span class="i0">Who knoweth my day of repentance, or the year when I was young?</span>
+<span class="i0">Who hath learned the names of the Wise-one or measured out his will?</span>
+<span class="i0">Who hath gone before to teach him, and the doom of days fulfill?</span>
+<span class="i0">Lo, I look on the Curse of the Gold, and wrong amended by wrong,</span>
+<span class="i0">And love by love confounded, and the strong abased by the strong;</span>
+<span class="i0">And I order it all and amend it, and the deeds that are done I see,</span>
+<span class="i0">And none other beholdeth or knoweth; and who shall be wise unto me?</span>
+<span class="i0">For myself to myself I offered, that all wisdom I might know,</span>
+<span class="i0">And fruitful I waxed of works, and good and fair did they grow;</span>
+<span class="i0">And I knew, and I wrought and fore-ordered; and evil sat by my side,</span>
+<span class="i0">And myself by myself hath been doomed, and I look for the fateful tide;</span>
+<span class="i0">And I deal with the generations, and the men mine hand hath made,</span>
+<span class="i0">And myself by myself shall be grieved, lest the world and its fashioning fade.'</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"They went and the Gold abided: but the words Allfather spake,</span>
+<span class="i0">I call them back full often for that golden even's sake,</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet little that hour I heard them, save as wind across the lea;</span>
+<span class="i0">For the gold shone up on Reidmar and on Fafnir's face and on me.</span>
+<span class="i0">And sore I loved that treasure: so I wrapped my heart in guile,</span>
+<span class="i0">And sleeked my tongue with sweetness, and set my face in a smile,</span>
+<span class="i0">And I bade my father keep it, the more part of the gold,</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet give good store to Fafnir for his goodly help and bold,</span>
+<span class="i0">And deal me a little handful for my smithying-help that day.</span>
+<span class="i0">But no little I desired, though for little I might pray;</span>
+<span class="i0">And prayed I for much or for little, he answered me no more</span>
+<span class="i0">Than the shepherd answers the wood-wolf who howls at the yule-tide door:</span>
+<span class="i0">But good he ever deemed it to sit on his ivory throne,</span>
+<span class="i0">And stare on the red rings' glory, and deem he was ever alone:</span>
+<span class="i0">And never a word spake Fafnir, but his eyes waxed red and grim</span>
+<span class="i0">As he looked upon our father, and noted the ways of him.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"The night waned into the morning, and still above the Hoard</span>
+<span class="i0">Sat Reidmar clad in purple; but Fafnir took his sword,</span>
+<span class="i0">And I took my smithying-hammer, and apart in the world we went;</span>
+<span class="i0">But I came aback in the even, and my heart was heavy and spent;</span>
+<span class="i0">And I longed, but fear was upon me and I durst not go to the Gold;</span>
+<span class="i0">So I lay in the house of my toil mid the things I had fashioned of old;</span>
+<span class="i0">And methought as I lay in my bed 'twixt waking and slumber of night</span>
+<span class="i0">That I heard the tinkling metal and beheld the hall alight,</span>
+<span class="i0">But I slept and dreamed of the Gods, and the things that never have slept,</span>
+<span class="i0">Till I woke to a cry and a clashing and forth from the bed I leapt,</span>
+<span class="i0">And there by the heaped-up Elf-gold my brother Fafnir stood,</span>
+<span class="i0">And there at his feet lay Reidmar and reddened the Treasure with blood;</span>
+<span class="i0">And e'en as I looked on his eyen they glazed and whitened with death,</span>
+<span class="i0">And forth on the torch-litten hall he shed his latest breath.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"But I looked on Fafnir and trembled for he wore the Helm of Dread,</span>
+<span class="i0">And his sword was bare in his hand, and the sword and the hand were red</span>
+<span class="i0">With the blood of our father Reidmar, and his body was wrapped in gold,</span>
+<span class="i0">With the ruddy-gleaming mailcoat of whose fellow hath nought been told,</span>
+<span class="i0">And it seemed as I looked upon him that he grew beneath mine eyes:</span>
+<span class="i0">And then in the mid-hall's silence did his dreadful voice arise:</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"'I have slain my father Reidmar, that I alone might keep</span>
+<span class="i0">The Gold of the darksome places, the Candle of the Deep.</span>
+<span class="i0">I am such as the Gods have made me, lest the Dwarf-kind people the earth,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or mingle their ancient wisdom with its short-lived latest birth.</span>
+<span class="i0">I shall dwell alone henceforward, and the Gold and its waxing curse,</span>
+<span class="i0">I shall brood on them both together, let my life grow better or worse.</span>
+<span class="i0">And I am a King henceforward and long shall be my life,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the Gold shall grow with my longing, for I shall hide it from strife,</span>
+<span class="i0">And hoard up the Ring of Andvari in the house thine hand hath built.</span>
+<span class="i0">O thou, wilt thou tarry and tarry, till I cast thy blood on the guilt?</span>
+<span class="i0">Lo, I am a King for ever, and alone on the Gold shall I dwell</span>
+<span class="i0">And do no deed to repent of and leave no tale to tell.'</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"More awful grew his visage as he spake the word of dread</span>
+<span class="i0">And no more durst I behold him, but with heart a-cold I fled;</span>
+<span class="i0">I fled from the glorious house my hands had made so fair,</span>
+<span class="i0">As poor as the new-born baby with nought of raiment or gear:</span>
+<span class="i0">I fled from the heaps of gold, and my goods were the eager will,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the heart that remembereth all, and the hand that may never be still.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Then unto this land I came, and that was long ago</span>
+<span class="i0">As men-folk count the years; and I taught them to reap and to sow,</span>
+<span class="i0">And a famous man I became: but that generation died,</span>
+<span class="i0">And they said that Frey had taught them, and a God my name did hide.</span>
+<span class="i0">Then I taught them the craft of metals, and the sailing of the sea,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the taming of the horse-kind, and the yoke-beasts' husbandry,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the building up of houses; and that race of men went by,</span>
+<span class="i0">And they said that Thor had taught them; and a smithying-carle was I.</span>
+<span class="i0">Then I gave their maidens the needle and I bade them hold the rock,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the shuttle-race gaped for them as they sat at the weaving-stock.</span>
+<span class="i0">But by then these were waxen crones to sit dim-eyed by the door,</span>
+<span class="i0">It was Freyia had come among them to teach the weaving-lore.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Then I taught them the tales of old, and fair songs fashioned and true,</span>
+<span class="i0">And their speech grew into music of measured time and due,</span>
+<span class="i0">And they smote the harp to my bidding, and the land grew soft and sweet:</span>
+<span class="i0">But ere the grass of their grave-mounds rose up above my feet,</span>
+<span class="i0">It was Bragi had made them sweet-mouthed, and I was the wandering scald;</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet green did my cunning flourish by whatso name I was called,</span>
+<span class="i0">And I grew the master of masters&mdash;Think thou how strange it is</span>
+<span class="i0">That the sword in the hands of a stripling shall one day end all this!</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Yet oft mid all my wisdom did I long for my brother's part,</span>
+<span class="i0">And Fafnir's mighty kingship weighed heavy on my heart</span>
+<span class="i0">When the Kings of the earthly kingdoms would give me golden gifts</span>
+<span class="i0">From out of their scanty treasures, due pay for my cunning shifts.</span>
+<span class="i0">And once&mdash;didst thou number the years thou wouldst think it long ago&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">I wandered away to the country from whence our stem did grow.</span>
+<span class="i0">There methought the fells grown greater, but waste did the meadows lie</span>
+<span class="i0">And the house was rent and ragged and open to the sky.</span>
+<span class="i0">But lo, when I came to the doorway, great silence brooded there,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor bat nor owl would haunt it, nor the wood-wolves drew anear.</span>
+<span class="i0">Then I went to the pillared hall-stead, and lo, huge heaps of gold,</span>
+<span class="i0">And to and fro amidst them a mighty Serpent rolled:</span>
+<span class="i0">Then my heart grew chill with terror, for I thought on the wont of our race,</span>
+<span class="i0">And I, who had lost their cunning, was a man in a deadly place,</span>
+<span class="i0">A feeble man and a swordless in the lone destroyer's fold;</span>
+<span class="i0">For I knew that the Worm was Fafnir, the Wallower on the Gold.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"So I gathered my strength and fled, and hid my shame again</span>
+<span class="i0">Mid the foolish sons of men-folk; and the more my hope was vain,</span>
+<span class="i0">The more I longed for the Treasure, and deliv'rance from the yoke:</span>
+<span class="i0">And yet passed the generations, and I dwelt with the short-lived folk.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Long years, and long years after the tale of men-folk told</span>
+<span class="i0">How up on the Glittering Heath was the house and the dwelling of gold,</span>
+<span class="i0">And within that house was the Serpent, and the Lord of the Fearful Face:</span>
+<span class="i0">Then I wondered sore of the desert; for I thought of the golden place</span>
+<span class="i0">My hands of old had builded; for I knew by many a sign</span>
+<span class="i0">That the Fearful Face was my brother, that the blood</span>
+<span class="i0">of the Worm was mine.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"This was ages long ago, and yet in that desert he dwells,</span>
+<span class="i0">Betwixt him and men death lieth, and no man of his semblance tells;</span>
+<span class="i0">But the tale of the great Gold-wallower is never the more outworn.</span>
+<span class="i0">Then came thy kin, O Sigurd, and thy father's father was born,</span>
+<span class="i0">And I fell to the dreaming of dreams, and I saw thine eyes therein,</span>
+<span class="i0">And I looked and beheld thy glory and all that thy sword should win;</span>
+<span class="i0">And I thought that thou shouldst be he, who should bring my heart its rest,</span>
+<span class="i0">That of all the gifts of the Kings thy sword should give me the best.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Ah, I fell to the dreaming of dreams; and oft the gold I saw,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the golden-fashioned Hauberk, clean-wrought without a flaw,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the Helm that aweth the world; and I knew of Fafnir's heart</span>
+<span class="i0">That his wisdom was greater than mine, because he had held him apart,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor spilt on the sons of men-folk our knowledge of ancient days,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor bartered one whit for their love, nor craved for the people's praise.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"And some day I shall have it all, his gold and his craft and his heart</span>
+<span class="i0">And the gathered and garnered wisdom he guards in the mountains apart.</span>
+<span class="i0">And then when my hand is upon it, my hand shall be as the spring</span>
+<span class="i0">To thaw his winter away and the fruitful tide to bring.</span>
+<span class="i0">It shall grow, it shall grow into summer, and I shall be he that wrought,</span>
+<span class="i0">And my deeds shall be remembered, and my name that once was nought;</span>
+<span class="i0">Yea I shall be Frey, and Thor, and Freyia, and Bragi in one:</span>
+<span class="i0">Yea the God of all that is,&mdash;and no deed in the wide world done,</span>
+<span class="i0">But the deed that my heart would fashion: and the songs of the freed from the yoke</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall bear to my house in the heavens the love and the longing of folk;</span>
+<span class="i0">And there shall be no more dying, and the sea shall be as the land,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the world for ever and ever shall be young beneath my hand."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then his eyelids fell, and he slumbered, and it seemed as Sigurd gazed</span>
+<span class="i0">That the flames leapt up in the stithy and about the Master blazed,</span>
+<span class="i0">And his hand in the harp-strings wandered and the sweetness from them poured.</span>
+<span class="i0">Then unto his feet leapt Sigurd and drew his stripling's sword,</span>
+<span class="i0">And he cried: "Awake, O Master, for, lo, the day goes by,</span>
+<span class="i0">And this too is an ancient story, that the sons of men-folk die,</span>
+<span class="i0">And all save fame departeth. Awake! for the day grows late,</span>
+<span class="i0">And deeds by the door are passing, nor the Norns will have them wait."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then Regin groaned and wakened, sad-eyed and heavy-browed,</span>
+<span class="i0">And weary and worn was he waxen, as a man by a burden bowed:</span>
+<span class="i0">And he spake: "Hast thou hearkened, Sigurd, wilt thou help a man that is old</span>
+<span class="i0">To avenge him for his father? Wilt thou win that Treasure of Gold</span>
+<span class="i0">And be more than the Kings of the earth? Wilt thou rid the earth of a wrong</span>
+<span class="i0">And heal the woe and the sorrow my heart hath endured o'erlong?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then Sigurd looked upon him with steadfast eyes and clear,</span>
+<span class="i0">And Regin drooped and trembled as he stood the doom to hear:</span>
+<span class="i0">But the bright child spake as aforetime, and answered the Master and said:</span>
+<span class="i0">"Thou shalt have thy will, and the Treasure, and take the curse on thine head."</span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h4><i>Of the forging of the Sword that is called The Wrath of Sigurd.</i></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now again came Sigurd to Regin, and said: "Thou hast taught me a task</span>
+<span class="i0">Whereof none knoweth the ending: and a gift at thine hands I ask."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then answered Regin the Master: "The world must be wide indeed</span>
+<span class="i0">If my hand may not reach across it for aught thine heart may need."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Yea wide is the world," said Sigurd, "and soon spoken is thy word;</span>
+<span class="i0">But this gift thou shalt nought gainsay me: for I bid thee forge me a sword."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then spake the Master of Masters, and his voice was sweet and soft,</span>
+<span class="i0">"Look forth abroad, O Sigurd, and note in the heavens aloft</span>
+<span class="i0">How the dim white moon of the daylight hangs round as the Goth-God's shield:</span>
+<span class="i0">Now for thee first rang mine anvil when she walked the heavenly field</span>
+<span class="i0">A slim and lovely lady, and the old moon lay on her arm:</span>
+<span class="i0">Lo, here is a sword I have wrought thee with many a spell and charm</span>
+<span class="i0">And all the craft of the Dwarf-kind; be glad thereof and sure;</span>
+<span class="i0">Mid many a storm of battle full well shall it endure."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then Sigurd looked on the slayer, and never a word would speak:</span>
+<span class="i0">Gemmed were the hilts and golden, and the blade was blue and bleak,</span>
+<span class="i0">And runes of the Dwarf-kind's cunning each side the trench were scored:</span>
+<span class="i0">But soft and sweet spake Regin: "How likest thou the sword?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then Sigurd laughed and answered: "The work is proved by the deed;</span>
+<span class="i0">See now if this be a traitor to fail me in my need."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then Regin trembled and shrank, so bright his eyes outshone</span>
+<span class="i0">As he turned about to the anvil, and smote the sword thereon;</span>
+<span class="i0">But the shards fell shivering earthward, and Sigurd's heart grew wroth</span>
+<span class="i0">As the steel-flakes tinkled about him: "Lo, there the right-hand's troth!</span>
+<span class="i0">Lo, there the golden glitter, and the word that soon is spilt."</span>
+<span class="i0">And down amongst the ashes he cast the glittering hilt,</span>
+<span class="i0">And turned his back on Regin and strode out through the door</span>
+<span class="i0">And for many a day of spring-tide came back again no more.</span>
+<span class="i0">But at last he came to the stithy and again took up the word:</span>
+<span class="i0">"What hast thou done, O Master, in the forging of the sword?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then sweetly Regin answered: "Hard task-master art thou,</span>
+<span class="i0">But lo, a blade of battle that shall surely please thee now!</span>
+<span class="i0">Two moons are clean departed since thou lookedst toward the sky</span>
+<span class="i0">And sawest the dim white circle amid the cloud-flecks lie;</span>
+<span class="i0">And night and day have I laboured; and the cunning of old days</span>
+<span class="i0">Hath surely left my right-hand if this sword thou shalt not praise."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">And indeed the hilts gleamed glorious with many a dear-bought stone,</span>
+<span class="i0">And down the fallow edges the light of battle shone;</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet Sigurd's eyes shone brighter, nor yet might Regin face</span>
+<span class="i0">Those eyes of the heart of the Volsungs; but trembled in his place</span>
+<span class="i0">As Sigurd cried: "O Regin, thy kin of the days of old</span>
+<span class="i0">Were an evil and treacherous folk, and they lied and murdered for gold;</span>
+<span class="i0">And now if thou wouldst bewray me, of the ancient curse beware,</span>
+<span class="i0">And set thy face as the flint the bale and the shame to bear:</span>
+<span class="i0">For he that would win to the heavens, and be as the Gods on high</span>
+<span class="i0">Must tremble nought at the road, and the place where men-folk die."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">White leaps the blade in his hand and gleams in the gear of the wall,</span>
+<span class="i0">And he smites, and the oft-smitten edges on the beaten anvil fall:</span>
+<span class="i0">But the life of the sword departed, and dull and broken it lay</span>
+<span class="i0">On the ashes and flaked-off iron, and no word did Sigurd say,</span>
+<span class="i0">But strode off through the door of the stithy and went to the Hall of Kings,</span>
+<span class="i0">And was merry and blithe that even mid all imaginings.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">But when the morrow was come he went to his mother and spake:</span>
+<span class="i0">"The shards, the shards of the sword, that thou gleanedst for my sake</span>
+<span class="i0">In the night on the field of slaughter, in the tide when my father fell,</span>
+<span class="i0">Hast thou kept them through sorrow and joyance? hast thou warded them trusty and well?</span>
+<span class="i0">Where hast thou laid them, my mother?"</span>
+<span class="i8">Then she looked upon him and said:</span>
+<span class="i0">"Art thou wroth, O Sigurd my son, that such eyes are in thine head?</span>
+<span class="i0">And wilt thou be wroth with thy mother? do I withstand thee at all?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Nay," said he, "nought am I wrathful, but the days rise up like a wall</span>
+<span class="i0">Betwixt my soul and the deeds, and I strive to rend them through.</span>
+<span class="i0">And why wilt thou fear mine eyen? as the sword lies baleful and blue</span>
+<span class="i0">E'en 'twixt the lips of lovers, when they swear their troth thereon,</span>
+<span class="i0">So keen are the eyes ye have fashioned, ye folk of the days agone;</span>
+<span class="i0">For therein is the light of battle, though whiles it lieth asleep.</span>
+<span class="i0">Now give me the sword, my mother, that Sigmund gave thee to keep."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">She said: "I shall give it thee gladly, for fain shall I be of thy praise</span>
+<span class="i0">When thou knowest my careful keeping of that hope of the earlier days."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">So she took his hand in her hand, and they went their ways, they twain,</span>
+<span class="i0">Till they came to the treasure of queen-folk, the guarded chamber of gain:</span>
+<span class="i0">They were all alone with its riches, and she turned the key in the gold,</span>
+<span class="i0">And lifted the sea-born purple, and the silken web unrolled,</span>
+<span class="i0">And lo, 'twixt her hands and her bosom the shards of Sigmund's sword;</span>
+<span class="i0">No rust-fleck stained its edges, and the gems of the ocean's hoard</span>
+<span class="i0">Were as bright in the hilts and glorious, as when in the Volsungs' hall</span>
+<span class="i0">It shone in the eyes of the earl-folk and flashed from the shielded wall.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">But Sigurd smiled upon it, and he said: "O Mother of Kings,</span>
+<span class="i0">Well hast thou warded the war-glaive for a mirror of many things,</span>
+<span class="i0">And a hope of much fulfilment: well hast thou given to me</span>
+<span class="i0">The message of my fathers, and the word of things to be:</span>
+<span class="i0">Trusty hath been thy warding, but its hour is over now:</span>
+<span class="i0">These shards shall be knit together, and shall hear the war-wind blow.</span>
+<span class="i0">They shall shine through the rain of Odin, as the sun come back to the world,</span>
+<span class="i0">When the heaviest bolt of the thunder amidst the storm is hurled:</span>
+<span class="i0">They shall shake the thrones of Kings, and shear the walls of war,</span>
+<span class="i0">And undo the knot of treason when the world is darkening o'er.</span>
+<span class="i0">They have shone in the dusk and the night-tide, they shall shine in the dawn and the day;</span>
+<span class="i0">They have gathered the storm together, they shall chase the clouds away;</span>
+<span class="i0">They have sheared red gold asunder, they shall gleam o'er the garnered gold;</span>
+<span class="i0">They have ended many a story, they shall fashion a tale to be told:</span>
+<span class="i0">They have lived in the wrack of the people; they shall live in the glory of folk:</span>
+<span class="i0">They have stricken the Gods in battle, for the Gods shall they strike the stroke."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then she felt his hands about her as he took the fateful sword,</span>
+<span class="i0">And he kissed her soft and sweetly; but she answered never a word:</span>
+<span class="i0">So great and fair was he waxen, so glorious was his face,</span>
+<span class="i0">So young, as the deathless Gods are, that long in the golden place</span>
+<span class="i0">She stood when he was departed: as some for-travailed one</span>
+<span class="i0">Comes over the dark fell-ridges on the birth-tide of the sun,</span>
+<span class="i0">And his gathering sleep falls from him mid the glory and the blaze;</span>
+<span class="i0">And he sees the world grow merry and looks on the lightened ways,</span>
+<span class="i0">While the ruddy streaks are melting in the day-flood broad and white;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then the morn-dusk he forgetteth, and the moon-lit waste of night,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the hall whence he departed with its yellow candles' flare:</span>
+<span class="i0">So stood the Isle-king's daughter in that treasure-chamber fair.</span>
+</div></div>
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But swift on his ways went Sigurd, and to Regin's house he came,</span>
+<span class="i0">Where the Master stood in the doorway and behind him leapt the flame,</span>
+<span class="i0">And dark he looked and little: no more his speech was sweet,</span>
+<span class="i0">No words on his lip were gathered the Volsung child to greet,</span>
+<span class="i0">Till he took the sword from Sigurd and the shards of the days of old;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then he spake:</span>
+<span class="i8">"Will nothing serve thee save this blue steel and cold,</span>
+<span class="i0">The bane of thy father's father, the fate of all his kin,</span>
+<span class="i0">The baleful blade I fashioned, the Wrath that the Gods would win?"</span>
+</div></div>
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then answered the eye-bright Sigurd: "If thou thy craft wilt do</span>
+<span class="i0">Nought save these battle-gleanings shall be my helper true:</span>
+<span class="i0">And what if thou begrudgest, and my battle-blade be dull,</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet the hand of the Norns is lifted and the cup is over-full.</span>
+<span class="i0">Repentst thou ne'er so sorely that thy kin must lie alow,</span>
+<span class="i0">How much soe'er thou longest the world to overthrow,</span>
+<span class="i0">And, doubting the gold and the wisdom, wouldst even now appease</span>
+<span class="i0">Blind hate and eyeless murder, and win the world with these;</span>
+<span class="i0">O'er-late is the time for repenting the word thy lips have said:</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou shalt have the Gold and the wisdom and take its curse on thine head.</span>
+<span class="i0">I say that thy lips have spoken, and no more with thee it lies</span>
+<span class="i0">To do the deed or leave it: since thou hast shown mine eyes</span>
+<span class="i0">The world that was aforetime, I see the world to be;</span>
+<span class="i0">And woe to the tangling thicket, or the wall that hindereth me!</span>
+<span class="i0">And short is the space I will tarry; for how if the Worm should die</span>
+<span class="i0">Ere the first of my strokes be stricken? Wilt thou get to thy mastery</span>
+<span class="i0">And knit these shards together that once in the Branstock stood?</span>
+<span class="i0">But if not and a smith's hands fail me, a king's hand yet shall be good;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the Norns have doomed thy brother. And yet I deem this sword</span>
+<span class="i0">Is the slayer of the Serpent, and the scatterer of the Hoard."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Great waxed the gloom of Regin, and he said: "Thou sayest sooth</span>
+<span class="i0">For none may turn him backward: the sword of a very youth</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall one day end my cunning, as the Gods my joyance slew,</span>
+<span class="i0">When nought thereof they were deeming, and another thing would do.</span>
+<span class="i0">But this sword shall slay the Serpent; and do another deed,</span>
+<span class="i0">And many an one thereafter till it fail thee in thy need.</span>
+<span class="i0">But as fair and great as thou standest, yet get thee from mine house,</span>
+<span class="i0">For in me too might ariseth, and the place is perilous</span>
+<span class="i0">With the craft that was aforetime, and shall never be again,</span>
+<span class="i0">When the hands that have taught thee cunning have failed from the world of men.</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou art wroth; but thy wrath must slumber till fate its blossom bear;</span>
+<span class="i0">Not thus were the eyes of Odin when I held him in the snare.</span>
+<span class="i0">Depart! lest the end overtake us ere thy work and mine be done,</span>
+<span class="i0">But come again in the night-tide and the slumber of the sun,</span>
+<span class="i0">When the sharded moon of April hangs round in the undark May."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Hither and thither a while did the heart of Sigurd sway</span>
+<span class="i0">For he feared no craft of the Dwarf-kind, nor heeded the ways of Fate,</span>
+<span class="i0">But his hand wrought e'en as his heart would: and now was he weary with hate</span>
+<span class="i0">Of the hatred and scorn of the Gods, and the greed of gold and of gain,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the weaponless hands of the stripling of the wrath and the rending were fain,</span>
+<span class="i0">But there stood Regin the Master, and his eyes were on Sigurd's eyes,</span>
+<span class="i0">Though nought belike they beheld him, and his brow was sad and wise;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the greed died out of his visage and he stood like an image of old.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">So the Norns drew Sigurd away, and the tide was an even of gold,</span>
+<span class="i0">And sweet in the April even were the fowl-kind singing their best;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the light of life smote Sigurd, and the joy that knows no rest,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the fond unnamed desire, and the hope of hidden things;</span>
+<span class="i0">And he wended fair and lovely to the house of the feasting Kings.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">But now when the moon was at full and the undark May begun,</span>
+<span class="i0">Went Sigurd unto Regin mid the slumber of the sun,</span>
+<span class="i0">And amidst the fire-hall's pavement the King of the Dwarf-kind stood</span>
+<span class="i0">Like an image of deeds departed and days that once were good;</span>
+<span class="i0">And he seemed but faint and weary, and his eyes were dim and dazed</span>
+<span class="i0">As they met the glory of Sigurd where the fitful candles blazed.</span>
+<span class="i0">Then he spake:</span>
+<span class="i2">"Hail, Son of the Volsungs, the corner-stone is laid,</span>
+<span class="i0">I have toiled and thou hast desired, and, lo, the fateful blade!"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then Sigurd saw it lying on the ashes slaked and pale</span>
+<span class="i0">Like the sun and the lightning mingled mid the even's cloudy bale;</span>
+<span class="i0">For ruddy and great were the hilts, and the edges fine and wan,</span>
+<span class="i0">And all adown to the blood-point a very flame there ran</span>
+<span class="i0">That swallowed the runes of wisdom wherewith its sides were scored.</span>
+<span class="i0">No sound did Sigurd utter as he stooped adown for his sword,</span>
+<span class="i0">But it seemed as his lips were moving with speech of strong desire.</span>
+<span class="i0">White leapt the blade o'er his head, and he stood in the ring of its fire</span>
+<span class="i0">As hither and thither it played, till it fell on the anvil's strength,</span>
+<span class="i0">And he cried aloud in his glory, and held out the sword full length,</span>
+<span class="i0">As one who would show it the world; for the edges were dulled no whit,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the anvil was cleft to the pavement with the dreadful dint of it.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">But Regin cried to his harp-strings: "Before the days of men</span>
+<span class="i0">I smithied the Wrath of Sigurd, and now is it smithied again:</span>
+<span class="i0">And my hand alone hath done it, and my heart alone hath dared</span>
+<span class="i0">To bid that man to the mountain, and behold his glory bared.</span>
+<span class="i0">Ah, if the son of Sigmund might wot of the thing I would,</span>
+<span class="i0">Then how were the ages bettered, and the world all waxen good!</span>
+<span class="i0">Then how were the past forgotten and the weary days of yore,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the hope of man that dieth and the waste that never bore!</span>
+<span class="i0">How should this one live through the winter and know of all increase!</span>
+<span class="i0">How should that one spring to the sunlight and bear the blossom of peace!</span>
+<span class="i0">No more should the long-lived wisdom o'er the waste of the wilderness stray;</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor the clear-eyed hero hasten to the deedless ending of day.</span>
+<span class="i0">And what if the hearts of the Volsungs for this deed of deeds were born,</span>
+<span class="i0">How then were their life-days evil and the end of their lives forlorn?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">There stood Sigurd the Volsung, and heard how the harp-strings rang,</span>
+<span class="i0">But of other things they told him than the hope that the Master sang;</span>
+<span class="i0">And his world lay far away from the Dwarf-king's eyeless realm</span>
+<span class="i0">And the road that leadeth nowhere, and the ship without a helm:</span>
+<span class="i0">But he spake: "How oft shall I say it, that I shall work thy will?</span>
+<span class="i0">If my father hath made me mighty, thine heart shall I fulfill</span>
+<span class="i0">With the wisdom and gold thou wouldest, before I wend on my ways;</span>
+<span class="i0">For now hast thou failed me nought, and the sword is the wonder of days."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">No word for a while spake Regin; but he hung his head adown</span>
+<span class="i0">As a man that pondereth sorely, and his voice once more was grown</span>
+<span class="i0">As the voice of the smithying-master as he spake: "This Wrath of thine</span>
+<span class="i0">Hath cleft the hard and the heavy; it shall shear the soft and the fine:</span>
+<span class="i0">Come forth to the night and prove it."</span>
+<span class="i8">So they twain went forth abroad,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the moon lay white on the river and lit the sleepless ford,</span>
+<span class="i0">And down to its pools they wended, and the stream was swift and full;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then Regin cast against it a lock of fine-spun wool,</span>
+<span class="i0">And it whirled about on the eddy till it met the edges bared,</span>
+<span class="i0">And as clean as the careless water the laboured fleece was sheared.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then Regin spake: "It is good, what the smithying-carle hath wrought:</span>
+<span class="i0">Now the work of the King beginneth, and the end that my soul hath sought.</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou shalt toil and I shall desire, and the deed shall be surely done:</span>
+<span class="i0">For thy Wrath is alive and awake and the story of bale is begun."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Therewith was the Wrath of Sigurd laid soft in a golden sheath</span>
+<span class="i0">And the peace-strings knit around it; for that blade was fain of death;</span>
+<span class="i0">And 'tis ill to show such edges to the broad blue light of day,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or to let the hall-glare light them, if ye list not play the play.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><i>Of Gripir's Foretelling.</i></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now Sigurd backeth Greyfell on the first of the morrow morn,</span>
+<span class="i0">And he rideth fair and softly through the acres of the corn;</span>
+<span class="i0">The Wrath to his side is girded, but hid are the edges blue,</span>
+<span class="i0">As he wendeth his ways to the mountains, and rideth the horse-mead through.</span>
+<span class="i0">His wide grey eyes are happy, and his voice is sweet and soft,</span>
+<span class="i0">As amid the mead-lark's singing he casteth song aloft:</span>
+<span class="i0">Lo, lo, the horse and the rider! So once maybe it was,</span>
+<span class="i0">When over the Earth unpeopled the youngest God would pass;</span>
+<span class="i0">But never again meseemeth shall such a sight betide,</span>
+<span class="i0">Till over a world unwrongful new-born shall Baldur ride.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">So he comes to that ness of the mountains, and Gripir's garden steep,</span>
+<span class="i0">That bravely Greyfell breasteth, and adown by the door doth he leap</span>
+<span class="i0">And his war-gear rattleth upon him; there is none to ask or forbid</span>
+<span class="i0">As he wendeth the house clear-lighted, where no mote of the dust is hid,</span>
+<span class="i0">Though the sunlight hath not entered: the walls are clear and bright,</span>
+<span class="i0">For they cast back each to other the golden Sigurd's light;</span>
+<span class="i0">Through the echoing ways of the house bright-eyed he wendeth along,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the mountain-wind is with him, and the hovering eagles' song;</span>
+<span class="i0">But no sound of the children of men may the ears of the Volsung hear,</span>
+<span class="i0">And no sign of their ways in the world, or their will, or their hope or their fear.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">So he comes to the hall of Gripir, and gleaming-green is it built</span>
+<span class="i0">As the house of under-ocean where the wealth of the greedy is spilt;</span>
+<span class="i0">Gleaming and green as the sea, and rich as its rock-strewn floor,</span>
+<span class="i0">And fresh as the autumn morning when the burning of summer is o'er.</span>
+<span class="i0">There he looks and beholdeth the high-seat, and he sees it strangely wrought,</span>
+<span class="i0">Of the tooth of the sea-beast fashioned ere the Dwarf-kind came to nought;</span>
+<span class="i0">And he looks, and thereon is Gripir, the King exceeding old,</span>
+<span class="i0">With the sword of his fathers girded, and his raiment wrought of gold;</span>
+<span class="i0">With the ivory rod in his right-hand, with his left on the crystal laid,</span>
+<span class="i0">That is round as the world of men-folk, and after its image made,</span>
+<span class="i0">And clear is it wrought to the eyen that may read therein of Fate</span>
+<span class="i0">Though little indeed be its sea, and its earth not wondrous great.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">There Sigurd stands in the hall, on the sheathed Wrath doth he lean,</span>
+<span class="i0">All his golden light is mirrored in the gleaming floor and green;</span>
+<span class="i0">But the smile in his face upriseth as he looks on the ancient King,</span>
+<span class="i0">And their glad eyes meet and their laughter, and sweet is the welcoming:</span>
+<span class="i0">And Gripir saith: "Hail Sigurd! for my bidding hast thou done,</span>
+<span class="i0">And here in the mountain-dwelling are two Kings of men alone."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">But Sigurd spake: "Hail father! I am girt with the fateful sword</span>
+<span class="i0">And my face is set to the highway, and I come for thy latest word."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Said Gripir: "What wouldst thou hearken ere we sit and drink the wine?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Thy word and the Norns'," said Sigurd, "but never a word of mine."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"What sights wouldst thou see," said Gripir, "ere mine hand shall take thine hand?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"As the Gods would I see," said Sigurd, "though Death light up the land."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"What hope wouldst thou hope, O Sigurd, ere we kiss, we twain, and depart?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Thy hope and the Gods'," said Sigurd, "though the grief lie hard on my heart."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Nought answered the ancient wise-one, and not a whit had he stirred</span>
+<span class="i0">Since the clash of Sigurd's raiment in his mountain-hall he heard;</span>
+<span class="i0">But the ball that imaged the earth was set in his hand grown old;</span>
+<span class="i0">And belike it was to his vision, as the wide-world's ocean rolled,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the forests waved with the wind, and the corn was gay with the lark,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the gold in its nether places grew up in the dusk and the dark,</span>
+<span class="i0">And its children built and departed, and its King-folk conquered and went,</span>
+<span class="i0">As over the crystal image his all-wise face was bent:</span>
+<span class="i0">For all his desire was dead, and he lived as a God shall live,</span>
+<span class="i0">Who the prayers of the world hath forgotten, and to whom no hand may give.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">But there stood the mighty Volsung, and leaned on the hidden Wrath;</span>
+<span class="i0">As the earliest sun's uprising o'er the sea-plain draws a path</span>
+<span class="i0">Whereby men sail to the Eastward and the dawn of another day,</span>
+<span class="i0">So the image of King Sigurd on the gleaming pavement lay.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then great in the hall fair-pillared the voice of Gripir arose,</span>
+<span class="i0">And it ran through the glimmering house-ways, and forth to the sunny close;</span>
+<span class="i0">There mid the birds' rejoicing went the voice of an o'er-wise King</span>
+<span class="i0">Like a wind of midmost winter come back to talk with spring.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">But the voice cried: "Sigurd, Sigurd! O great, O early born!</span>
+<span class="i0">O hope of the Kings first fashioned! O blossom of the morn!</span>
+<span class="i0">Short day and long remembrance, fair summer of the North!</span>
+<span class="i0">One day shall the worn world wonder how first thou wentest forth!</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Arise, O Sigurd, Sigurd! in the night arise and go,</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou shalt smite when the day-dawn glimmers through the folds of God-home's foe:</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"There the child in the noon-tide smiteth; the young King rendeth apart,</span>
+<span class="i0">The old guile by the guile encompassed, the heart made wise by the heart.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Bind the red rings, O Sigurd; bind up to cast abroad!</span>
+<span class="i0">That the earth may laugh before thee rejoiced by the Waters' Hoard.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Ride on, O Sigurd, Sigurd! for God's word goes forth on the wind,</span>
+<span class="i0">And he speaketh not twice over; nor shall they loose that bind:</span>
+<span class="i0">But the Day and the Day shall loosen, and the Day shall awake and arise,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the Day shall rejoice with the Dawning, and the wise heart learn of the wise.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"O fair, O fearless, O mighty, how green are the garths of Kings,</span>
+<span class="i0">How soft are the ways before thee to the heart of their war-farings!</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"How green are the garths of King-folk, how fair is the lily and rose</span>
+<span class="i0">In the house of the Cloudy People, 'neath the towers of kings and foes!</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Smite now, smite now in the noontide! ride on through the hosts of men!</span>
+<span class="i0">Lest the dear remembrance perish, and today come not again.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Is it day?&mdash;But the house is darkling&mdash;But the hand would gather and hold,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the lips have kissed the cloud-wreath, and a cloud the arms enfold.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"In the dusk hath the Sower arisen; in the dark hath he cast the seed,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the ear is the sorrow of Odin and the wrong, and the nameless need!</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Ah the hand hath gathered and garnered, and empty is the hand,</span>
+<span class="i0">Though the day be full and fruitful mid the drift of the Cloudy Land!</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Look, look on the drift of the clouds, how the day and the even doth grow</span>
+<span class="i0">As the long-forgotten dawning that was a while ago!</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Dawn, dawn, O mighty of men! and why wilt thou never awake,</span>
+<span class="i0">When the holy field of the Goth-folk cries out for thy love and thy sake?</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Dawn, now; but the house is silent, and dark is the purple blood</span>
+<span class="i0">On the breast of the Queen fair-fashioned; and it riseth up as a flood</span>
+<span class="i0">Round the posts of the door belov&egrave;d; and a deed there lieth therein:</span>
+<span class="i0">The last of the deeds of Sigurd; the worst of the Cloudy Kin&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">The slayer slain by the slain within the door and without.</span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;O dawn as the eve of the birth-day! O dark world cumbered with doubt!</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Shall it never be day any more, nor the sun's uprising and growth?</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall the kings of earth lie sleeping and the war-dukes wander in sloth</span>
+<span class="i0">Through the last of the winter twilight? is the word of the wise-ones said</span>
+<span class="i0">Till the five-fold winter be ended and the trumpet waken the dead?</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Short day and long remembrance! great glory for the earth!</span>
+<span class="i0">O deeds of the Day triumphant! O word of Sigurd's worth!</span>
+<span class="i0">It is done, and who shall undo it of all who were ever alive?</span>
+<span class="i0">May the Gods or the high Gods' masters 'gainst the tale of the righteous strive,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the deeds to follow after, and all their deeds increase,</span>
+<span class="i0">Till the uttermost field is foughten, and Baldur riseth in peace!</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Cry out, O waste, before him! O rocks of the wilderness, cry!</span>
+<span class="i0">For to-morn shalt thou see the glory, and the man not made to die!</span>
+<span class="i0">Cry out, O upper heavens! O clouds beneath the lift</span>
+<span class="i0">For the golden King shall be riding high-headed midst the drift:</span>
+<span class="i0">The mountain waits and the fire; there waiteth the heart of the wise</span>
+<span class="i0">Till the earthly toil is accomplished, and again shall the fire arise;</span>
+<span class="i0">And none shall be nigh in the ending and none by his heart shall be laid,</span>
+<span class="i0">Save the world that he cherished and quickened, and the Day that he wakened and made."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">So died the voice of Gripir from amidst the sunny close,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the sound of hastening eagles from the mountain's feet arose,</span>
+<span class="i0">But the hall was silent a little, for still stood Sigmund's son,</span>
+<span class="i0">And he heard the words and remembered, and knew them one by one.</span>
+<span class="i0">Then he turned on the ancient Gripir with eyes that knew no guile</span>
+<span class="i0">And smiled on the wise of King-folk as the first of men might smile</span>
+<span class="i0">On the God that hath fashioned him happy; and he spake:</span>
+<span class="i8">"Hast thou spoken and known</span>
+<span class="i0">How there standeth a child before thee and a stripling scarcely grown?</span>
+<span class="i0">Or hast thou told of the Volsungs, and the gathered heart of these,</span>
+<span class="i0">And their still unquenched desire for garnering fame's increase?</span>
+<span class="i0">E'en so do I hearken thy words: for I wot how they deem it long</span>
+<span class="i0">Till a man from their seed be arisen to deal with the cumber and wrong.</span>
+<span class="i0">Bid me therefore to sit by thy side, for behold I wend on my way,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the gates swing to behind me, and each day of mine is a day</span>
+<span class="i0">With deeds in the eve and the morning, nor deeds shall the noontide lack;</span>
+<span class="i0">To the right and the left none calleth, and no voice crieth aback."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Come, kin of the Gods," said Gripir, "come up and sit by my side</span>
+<span class="i0">That we twain may be glad as the fearless, and they that have nothing to hide:</span>
+<span class="i0">I have wrought out my will and abide it, and I sit ungrieved and alone,</span>
+<span class="i0">I look upon men and I help not; to me are the deeds long done</span>
+<span class="i0">As those of to-day and to-morrow: for these and for those am I glad;</span>
+<span class="i0">But the Gods and men are the framers, and the days of my life I have had."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then Sigurd came unto Gripir, and he kissed the wise-one's face,</span>
+<span class="i0">And they sat in the high-seat together, the child and the elder of days;</span>
+<span class="i0">And they drank of the wine of King-folk, and were joyful each of each,</span>
+<span class="i0">And spake for a while of matters that are meet for King-folk's speech;</span>
+<span class="i0">The deeds of men that have been and Kin of the Kings of the earth;</span>
+<span class="i0">And Gripir told of the outlands, and the mid-world's billowy girth,</span>
+<span class="i0">And tales of the upper heaven were mingled with his talk,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the halls where the Sea-Queen's kindred o'er the gem-strewn pavement walk,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the innermost parts of the earth, where they lie, the green and the blue,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the red and the glittering gem-stones that of old the Dwarf-kind knew.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Long Sigurd sat and marvelled at the mouth that might not lie,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the eyes no God had blinded, and the lone heart raised on high,</span>
+<span class="i0">Then he rose from the gleaming high-seat, and the rings of battle rang</span>
+<span class="i0">And the sheath&egrave;d Wrath was hearkening and a song of war it sang,</span>
+<span class="i0">But Sigurd spake unto Gripir:</span>
+<span class="i8">"Long and lovely are thy days,</span>
+<span class="i0">And thy years fulfilled of wisdom, and thy feet on the unhid ways,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the guileless heart of the great that knoweth not anger nor pain:</span>
+<span class="i0">So once hath a man been fashioned and shall not be again.</span>
+<span class="i0">But for me hath been foaled the war-horse, the grey steed swift as the cloud,</span>
+<span class="i0">And for me were the edges smithied, and the Wrath cries out aloud;</span>
+<span class="i0">And a voice hath called from the darkness, and I ride to the Glittering Heath;</span>
+<span class="i0">To smite on the door of Destruction, and waken the warder of Death."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">So they kissed, the wise and the wise, and the child from the elder turned;</span>
+<span class="i0">And again in the glimmering house-ways the golden Sigurd burned;</span>
+<span class="i0">He stood outside in the sunlight, and tarried never a deal,</span>
+<span class="i0">But leapt on the cloudy Greyfell with the clank of gold and steel,</span>
+<span class="i0">And he rode through the sinking day to the walls of the kingly stead,</span>
+<span class="i0">And came to Regin's dwelling when the wind was fallen dead,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the great sun just departing: then blood-red grew the west,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the fowl flew home from the sea-mead, and all things sank to rest.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><i>Sigurd rideth to the Glittering Heath.</i></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Again on the morrow morning doth Sigurd the Volsung ride,</span>
+<span class="i0">And Regin, the Master of Masters, is faring by his side,</span>
+<span class="i0">And they leave the dwelling of kings and ride the summer land,</span>
+<span class="i0">Until at the eve of the day the hills are on either hand:</span>
+<span class="i0">Then they wend up higher and higher, and over the heaths they fare</span>
+<span class="i0">Till the moon shines broad on the midnight, and they sleep 'neath the heavens bare;</span>
+<span class="i0">And they waken and look behind them, and lo, the dawning of day</span>
+<span class="i0">And the little land of the Helper and its valley far away;</span>
+<span class="i0">But the mountains rise before them, a wall exceeding great.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then spake the Master of Masters: "We have come to the garth and the gate:</span>
+<span class="i0">There is youth and rest behind thee and many a thing to do,</span>
+<span class="i0">There is many a fond desire, and each day born anew;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the land of the Volsungs to conquer, and many a people's praise:</span>
+<span class="i0">And for me there is rest it maybe, and the peaceful end of days.</span>
+<span class="i0">We have come to the garth and the gate; to the hall-door now shall we win,</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall we go to look on the high-seat and see what sitteth therein?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Yea and what else?" said Sigurd, "was thy tale but mockeries</span>
+<span class="i0">And have I been drifted hither on a wind of empty lies?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"It was sooth, it was sooth," said Regin, "and more might I have told</span>
+<span class="i0">Had I heart and space to remember the deeds of the days of old."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">And he hung down his head as he spake it, and was silent a little space;</span>
+<span class="i0">And when it was lifted again there was fear in the Dwarf-king's face.</span>
+<span class="i0">And he said: "Thou knowest my thought, and wise-hearted art thou grown:</span>
+<span class="i0">It were well if thine eyes were blinder, and we each were faring alone,</span>
+<span class="i0">And I with my eld and my wisdom, and thou with thy youth and thy might;</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet whiles I dream I have wrought thee, a beam of the morning bright,</span>
+<span class="i0">A fatherless motherless glory, to work out my desire;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then high my hope ariseth, and my heart is all afire</span>
+<span class="i0">For the world I behold from afar, and the day that yet shall be;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then I wake and all things I remember and a youth of the Kings I see&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;The child of the Wood-abider, the seed of a conquered King,</span>
+<span class="i0">The sword that the Gods have fashioned, the fate that men shall sing:&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">Ah might the world run backward to the days of the Dwarfs of old,</span>
+<span class="i0">When I hewed out the pillars of crystal, and smoothed the walls of gold!"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Nought answered the Son of Sigmund; nay he heard him nought at all,</span>
+<span class="i0">Save as though the wind were speaking in the bights of the mountain-hall:</span>
+<span class="i0">But he leapt aback of Greyfell, and the glorious sun rose up,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the heavens glowed above him like the bowl of Baldur's cup,</span>
+<span class="i0">And a golden man was he waxen; as the heart of the sun he seemed,</span>
+<span class="i0">While over the feet of the mountains like blood the new light streamed;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then Sigurd cried to Greyfell and swift for the pass he rode</span>
+<span class="i0">And Regin followed after as a man bowed down by a load.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Day-long they fared through the mountains, and that highway's fashioner</span>
+<span class="i0">Forsooth was a fearful craftsman, and his hands the waters were,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the heaped-up ice was his mattock, and the fire-blast was his man,</span>
+<span class="i0">And never a whit he heeded though his walls were waste and wan,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the guest-halls of that wayside great heaps of the ashes spent.</span>
+<span class="i0">But, each as a man alone, through the sun-bright day they went,</span>
+<span class="i0">And they rode till the moon rose upward, and the stars were small and fair,</span>
+<span class="i0">Then they slept on the long-slaked ashes beneath the heavens bare;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the cold dawn came and they wakened, and the King of the Dwarf-kind seemed</span>
+<span class="i0">As a thing of that wan land fashioned; but Sigurd glowed and gleamed</span>
+<span class="i0">Amid the shadowless twilight by Greyfell's cloudy flank,</span>
+<span class="i0">As a little space they abided while the latest star-world shrank;</span>
+<span class="i0">On the backward road looked Regin and heard how Sigurd drew</span>
+<span class="i0">The girths of Greyfell's saddle, and the voice of his sword he knew</span>
+<span class="i0">And he feared to look on the Volsung, as thus he fell to speak:</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"I have seen the Dwarf-folk mighty, I have seen the God-folk weak;</span>
+<span class="i0">And now, though our might be minished, yet have we gifts to give.</span>
+<span class="i0">When men desire and conquer, most sweet is their life to live;</span>
+<span class="i0">When men are young and lovely there is many a thing to do,</span>
+<span class="i0">And sweet is their fond desire and the dawn that springs anew."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"This gift," said the Son of Sigmund, "the Norns shall give me yet,</span>
+<span class="i0">And no blossom slain by the sunshine while the leaves with dew are wet."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then Regin turned and beheld him: "Thou shalt deem it hard and strange,</span>
+<span class="i0">When the hand hath encompassed it all, and yet thy life must change.</span>
+<span class="i0">Ah, long were the lives of men-folk, if betwixt the Gods and them</span>
+<span class="i0">Were mighty warders watching mid the earth's and the heaven's hem!</span>
+<span class="i0">Is there any man so mighty he would cast this gift away,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">The heart's desire accomplished, and life so long a day,</span>
+<span class="i0">That the dawn should be forgotten ere the even was begun?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then Sigurd laughed and answered: "Fare forth, O glorious sun;</span>
+<span class="i0">Bright end from bright beginning, and the mid-way good to tell,</span>
+<span class="i0">And death, and deeds accomplished, and all remembered well!</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall the day go past and leave us, and we be left with night,</span>
+<span class="i0">To tread the endless circle, and strive in vain to smite?</span>
+<span class="i0">But thou&mdash;wilt thou still look backward? thou sayst I know thy thought:</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou hast whetted the sword for the slaying, it shall turn aside for nought.</span>
+<span class="i0">Fear not! with the Gold and the wisdom thou shalt deem thee God alone,</span>
+<span class="i0">And mayst do and undo at pleasure, nor be bound by right nor wrong:</span>
+<span class="i0">And then, if no God I be waxen, I shall be the weak with the strong."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">And his war-gear clanged and tinkled as he leapt to the saddle-stead:</span>
+<span class="i0">And the sun rose up at their backs and the grey world changed to red.</span>
+<span class="i0">And away to the west went Sigurd by the glory wreathed about,</span>
+<span class="i0">But little and black was Regin as a fire that dieth out.</span>
+<span class="i0">Day-long they rode the mountains by the crags exceeding old,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the ash that the first of the Dwarf-kind found dull and quenched and cold.</span>
+<span class="i0">Then the moon in the mid-sky swam, and the stars were fair and pale,</span>
+<span class="i0">And beneath the naked heaven they slept in an ash-grey dale;</span>
+<span class="i0">And again at the dawn-dusk's ending they stood upon their feet,</span>
+<span class="i0">And Sigurd donned his war-gear nor his eyes would Regin meet.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">A clear streak widened in heaven low down above the earth;</span>
+<span class="i0">And above it lay the cloud-flecks, and the sun, anigh its birth,</span>
+<span class="i0">Unseen, their hosts was staining with the very hue of blood,</span>
+<span class="i0">And ruddy by Greyfell's shoulder the Son of Sigmund stood.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then spake the Master of Masters: "What is thine hope this morn</span>
+<span class="i0">That thou dightest thee, O Sigurd, to ride this world forlorn?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"What needeth hope," said Sigurd, "when the heart of the Volsungs turns</span>
+<span class="i0">To the light of the Glittering Heath, and the house where the Waster burns?</span>
+<span class="i0">I shall slay the Foe of the Gods, as thou badst me a while agone,</span>
+<span class="i0">And then with the Gold and its wisdom shalt thou be left alone."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"O Child," said the King of the Dwarf-kind, "when the day at last comes round</span>
+<span class="i0">For the dread and the Dusk of the Gods, and the kin of the Wolf is unbound,</span>
+<span class="i0">When thy sword shall hew the fire, and the wildfire beateth thy shield,</span>
+<span class="i0">Shalt thou praise the wages of hope and the Gods that pitched the field?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"O Foe of the Gods," said Sigurd, "wouldst thou hide the evil thing,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the curse that is greater than thou, lest death end thy labouring,</span>
+<span class="i0">Lest the night should come upon thee amidst thy toil for nought?</span>
+<span class="i0">It is me, it is me that thou fearest, if indeed I know thy thought;</span>
+<span class="i0">Yea me, who would utterly light the face of all good and ill,</span>
+<span class="i0">If not with the fruitful beams that the summer shall fulfill,</span>
+<span class="i0">Then at least with the world a-blazing, and the glare of the grinded sword."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">And he sprang aloft to the saddle as he spake the latest word,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the Wrath sang loud in the sheath as it ne'er had sung before,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the cloudy flecks were scattered like flames on the heaven's floor,</span>
+<span class="i0">And all was kindled at once, and that trench of the mountains grey</span>
+<span class="i0">Was filled with the living light as the low sun lit the way:</span>
+<span class="i0">But Regin turned from the glory with blinded eyes and dazed,</span>
+<span class="i0">And lo, on the cloudy war-steed how another light there blazed,</span>
+<span class="i0">And a great voice came from amidst it:</span>
+<span class="i8">"O Regin, in good sooth,</span>
+<span class="i0">I have hearkened not nor heeded the words of thy fear and thy ruth:</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou hast told thy tale and thy longing, and thereto I hearkened well:&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">Let it lead thee up to heaven, let it lead thee down to hell,</span>
+<span class="i0">The deed shall be done to-morrow: thou shalt have that measureless Gold,</span>
+<span class="i0">And devour the garnered wisdom that blessed thy realm of old,</span>
+<span class="i0">That hath lain unspent and begrudged in the very heart of hate:</span>
+<span class="i0">With the blood and the might of thy brother thine hunger shalt thou sate;</span>
+<span class="i0">And this deed shall be mine and thine; but take heed for what followeth then!</span>
+<span class="i0">Let each do after his kind! I shall do the deeds of men;</span>
+<span class="i0">I shall harvest the field of their sowing, in the bed of their strewing shall sleep;</span>
+<span class="i0">To them shall I give my life-days, to the Gods my glory to keep.</span>
+<span class="i0">But thou with the wealth and the wisdom that the best of the Gods might praise,</span>
+<span class="i0">If thou shalt indeed excel them and become the hope of the days,</span>
+<span class="i0">Then me in turn hast thou conquered, and I shall be in turn</span>
+<span class="i0">Thy fashioned brand of the battle through good and evil to burn,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or the flame that sleeps in thy stithy for the gathered winds to blow,</span>
+<span class="i0">When thou listest to do and undo and thine uttermost cunning to show.</span>
+<span class="i0">But indeed I wot full surely that thou shalt follow thy kind;</span>
+<span class="i0">And for all that cometh after, the Norns shall loose and bind."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then his bridle-reins rang sweetly, and the warding-walls of death,</span>
+<span class="i0">And Regin drew up to him, and the Wrath sang loud in the sheath,</span>
+<span class="i0">And forth from that trench in the mountains by the westward way they ride;</span>
+<span class="i0">And little and black goes Regin by the golden Volsung's side;</span>
+<span class="i0">But no more his head is drooping, for he seeth the Elf-king's Gold;</span>
+<span class="i0">The garnered might and the wisdom e'en now his eyes behold.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">So up and up they journeyed, and ever as they went</span>
+<span class="i0">About the cold-slaked forges, o'er many a cloud-swept bent,</span>
+<span class="i0">Betwixt the walls of blackness, by shores of the fishless meres,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the fathomless desert waters, did Regin cast his fears,</span>
+<span class="i0">And wrap him in desire; and all alone he seemed</span>
+<span class="i0">As a God to his heirship wending, and forgotten and undreamed</span>
+<span class="i0">Was all the tale of Sigurd, and the folk he had toiled among,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the Volsungs, Odin's children, and the men-folk fair and young.</span>
+</div></div>
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So on they ride to the westward, and huge were the mountains grown</span>
+<span class="i0">And the floor of heaven was mingled with that tossing world of stone:</span>
+<span class="i0">And they rode till the noon was forgotten and the sun was waxen low,</span>
+<span class="i0">And they tarried not, though he perished, and the world grew dark below.</span>
+<span class="i0">Then they rode a mighty desert, a glimmering place and wide,</span>
+<span class="i0">And into a narrow pass high-walled on either side</span>
+<span class="i0">By the blackness of the mountains, and barred aback and in face</span>
+<span class="i0">By the empty night of the shadow; a windless silent place:</span>
+<span class="i0">But the white moon shone o'erhead mid the small sharp stars and pale,</span>
+<span class="i0">And each as a man alone they rode on the highway of bale.</span>
+</div></div>
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So ever they wended upward, and the midnight hour was o'er,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the stars grew pale and paler, and failed from the heaven's floor,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the moon was a long while dead, but there was the promise of day,</span>
+<span class="i0">No change came over the darkness, no streak of the dawning grey;</span>
+<span class="i0">No sound of the wind's uprising adown the night there ran:</span>
+<span class="i0">It was blind as the Gaping Gulf ere the first of the worlds began.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then athwart and athwart rode Sigurd and sought the walls of the pass,</span>
+<span class="i0">But found no wall before him; and the road rang hard as brass</span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath the hoofs of Greyfell, as up and up he trod:</span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;Was it the daylight of Hell, or the night of the doorways of God?</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">But lo, at the last a glimmer, and a light from the west there came,</span>
+<span class="i0">And another and another, like points of far-off flame;</span>
+<span class="i0">And they grew and brightened and gathered; and whiles together they ran</span>
+<span class="i0">Like the moonwake over the waters; and whiles they were scant and wan,</span>
+<span class="i0">Some greater and some lesser, like the boats of fishers laid</span>
+<span class="i0">About the sea of midnight; and a dusky dawn they made,</span>
+<span class="i0">A faint and glimmering twilight: So Sigurd strains his eyes,</span>
+<span class="i0">And he sees how a land deserted all round about him lies</span>
+<span class="i0">More changeless than mid-ocean, as fruitless as its floor:</span>
+<span class="i0">Then the heart leaps up within him, for he knows that his journey is o'er,</span>
+<span class="i0">And there he draweth bridle on the first of the Glittering Heath:</span>
+<span class="i0">And the Wrath is waxen merry and sings in the golden sheath</span>
+<span class="i0">As he leaps adown from Greyfell, and stands upon his feet,</span>
+<span class="i0">And wends his ways through the twilight the Foe of the Gods to meet.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><i>Sigurd slayeth Fafnir the Serpent</i>.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nought Sigurd seeth of Regin, and nought he heeds of him,</span>
+<span class="i0">As in watchful might and glory he strides the desert dim,</span>
+<span class="i0">And behind him paceth Greyfell; but he deems the time o'erlong</span>
+<span class="i0">Till he meet the great gold-warden, the over-lord of wrong.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">So he wendeth midst the silence through the measureless desert place,</span>
+<span class="i0">And beholds the countless glitter with wise and steadfast face,</span>
+<span class="i0">Till him-seems in a little season that the flames grow somewhat wan,</span>
+<span class="i0">And a grey thing glimmers before him, and becomes a mighty man,</span>
+<span class="i0">One-eyed and ancient-seeming, in cloud-grey raiment clad;</span>
+<span class="i0">A friendly man and glorious, and of visage smiling-glad:</span>
+<span class="i0">Then content in Sigurd groweth because of his majesty,</span>
+<span class="i0">And he heareth him speak in the desert as the wind of the winter sea:</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Hail Sigurd! Give me thy greeting ere thy ways alone thou wend!"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Said Sigurd: "Hail! I greet thee, my friend and my fathers' friend."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Now whither away," said the elder, "with the Steed and the ancient Sword?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"To the greedy house," said Sigurd, "and the King of the Heavy Hoard."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Wilt thou smite, O Sigurd, Sigurd?" said the ancient mighty-one.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Yea, yea, I shall smite," said the Volsung, "save the Gods have slain the sun."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"What wise wilt thou smite," said the elder, "lest the dark devour thy day?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Thou hast praised the sword," said the child, "and the sword shall find a way."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Be learned of me," said the Wise-one, "for I was the first of thy folk."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Said the child: "I shall do thy bidding, and for thee shall I strike the stroke."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Spake the Wise-one: "Thus shalt thou do when thou wendest hence alone:</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou shalt find a path in the desert, and a road in the world of stone;</span>
+<span class="i0">It is smooth and deep and hollow, but the rain hath riven it not,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the wild wind hath not worn it, for it is but Fafnir's slot,</span>
+<span class="i0">Whereby he wends to the water and the fathomless pool of old,</span>
+<span class="i0">When his heart in the dawn is weary, and he loathes the Ancient Gold:</span>
+<span class="i0">There think of the great and the fathers, and bare the whetted Wrath,</span>
+<span class="i0">And dig a pit in the highway, and a grave in the Serpent's path:</span>
+<span class="i0">Lie thou therein, O Sigurd, and thine hope from the glooming hide,</span>
+<span class="i0">And be as the dead for a season, and the living light abide!</span>
+<span class="i0">And so shall thine heart avail thee, and thy mighty fateful hand,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the Light that lay in the Branstock, the well belov&egrave;d brand."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Said the child: "I shall do thy bidding, and for thee shall I strike the stroke;</span>
+<span class="i0">For I love thee, friend of my fathers, Wise Heart of the holy folk."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">So spake the Son of Sigmund, and beheld no man anear,</span>
+<span class="i0">And again was the night the midnight, and the twinkling flames shone clear</span>
+<span class="i0">In the hush of the Glittering Heath; and alone went Sigmund's son</span>
+<span class="i0">Till he came to the road of Fafnir, and the highway worn by one,</span>
+<span class="i0">By the drift of the rain unfurrowed, by the windy years unrent,</span>
+<span class="i0">And forth from the dark it came, and into the dark it went.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Great then was the heart of Sigurd, for there in the midmost he stayed,</span>
+<span class="i0">And thought of the ancient fathers, and bared the bright blue blade,</span>
+<span class="i0">That shone as a fleck of the day-light, and the night was all around.</span>
+<span class="i0">Fair then was the Son of Sigmund as he toiled and laboured the ground;</span>
+<span class="i0">Great, mighty he was in his working, and the Glittering Heath he clave,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the sword shone blue before him as he dug the pit and the grave:</span>
+<span class="i0">There he hid his hope from the night-tide and lay like one of the dead,</span>
+<span class="i0">And wise and wary he bided; and the heavens hung over his head.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Now the night wanes over Sigurd, and the ruddy rings he sees,</span>
+<span class="i0">And his war-gear's fair adornment, and the God-folk's images;</span>
+<span class="i0">But a voice in the desert ariseth, a sound in the waste has birth,</span>
+<span class="i0">A changing tinkle and clatter, as of gold dragged over the earth:</span>
+<span class="i0">O'er Sigurd widens the day-light, and the sound is drawing close,</span>
+<span class="i0">And speedier than the trample of speedy feet it goes;</span>
+<span class="i0">But ever deemeth Sigurd that the sun brings back the day,</span>
+<span class="i0">For the grave grows lighter and lighter and heaven o'erhead is grey.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">But now, how the rattling waxeth till he may not heed nor hark!</span>
+<span class="i0">And the day and the heavens are hidden, and o'er Sigurd rolls the dark,</span>
+<span class="i0">As the flood of a pitchy river, and heavy-thick is the air</span>
+<span class="i0">With the venom of hate long hoarded, and lies once fashioned fair:</span>
+<span class="i0">Then a wan face comes from the darkness, and is wrought in manlike wise,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the lips are writhed with laughter and bleared are the blinded eyes;</span>
+<span class="i0">And it wandereth hither and thither, and searcheth through the grave</span>
+<span class="i0">And departeth, leaving nothing, save the dark, rolled wave on wave</span>
+<span class="i0">O'er the golden head of Sigurd and the edges of the sword,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the world weighs heavy on Sigurd, and the weary curse of the Hoard:</span>
+<span class="i0">Him-seemed the grave grew straiter, and his hope of life grew chill,</span>
+<span class="i0">And his heart by the Worm was enfolded, and the bonds of the Ancient Ill.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then was Sigurd stirred by his glory, and he strove with the swaddling of Death;</span>
+<span class="i0">He turned in the pit on the highway, and the grave of the Glittering Heath;</span>
+<span class="i0">He laughed and smote with the laughter and thrust up over his head,</span>
+<span class="i0">And smote the venom asunder, and clave the heart of Dread;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then he leapt from the pit and the grave, and the rushing river of blood,</span>
+<span class="i0">And fulfilled with the joy of the War-God on the face of earth he stood</span>
+<span class="i0">With red sword high uplifted, with wrathful glittering eyes;</span>
+<span class="i0">And he laughed at the heavens above him for he saw the sun arise,</span>
+<span class="i0">And Sigurd gleamed on the desert, and shone in the new-born light,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the wind in his raiment wavered, and all the world was bright.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">But there was the ancient Fafnir, and the Face of Terror lay</span>
+<span class="i0">On the huddled folds of the Serpent, that were black and ashen-grey</span>
+<span class="i0">In the desert lit by the sun; and those twain looked each on each,</span>
+<span class="i0">And forth from the Face of Terror went a sound of dreadful speech:</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Child, child, who art thou that hast smitten? bright child, of whence is thy birth?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"I am called the Wild-thing Glorious, and alone I wend on the earth."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Fierce child, and who was thy father?&mdash;Thou hast cleft the heart of the Foe!"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Am I like to the sons of men-folk, that my father I should know?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Wert thou born of a nameless wonder? shall the lies to my death-day cling?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"How lieth Sigurd the Volsung, and the Son of Sigmund the King?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"O bitter father of Sigurd!&mdash;thou hast cleft mine heart atwain!"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"I arose, and I wondered and wended, and I smote, and I smote not in vain."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"What master hath taught thee of murder?&mdash;Thou hast wasted Fafnir's day."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"I, Sigurd, knew and desired, and the bright sword learned the way."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Thee, thee shall the rattling Gold and the red rings bring to the bane."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Yet mine hand shall cast them abroad, and the earth shall gather again."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"I see thee great in thine anger, and the Norns thou heedest not."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"O Fafnir, speak of the Norns and the wisdom unforgot!"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Let the death-doomed flee from the ocean, him the wind and the weather shall drown."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"O Fafnir, tell of the Norns ere thy life thou layest adown!"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"O manifold is their kindred, and who shall tell them all?</span>
+<span class="i0">There are they that rule o'er men-folk and the stars that rise and fall:</span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;I knew of the folk of the Dwarfs, and I knew their Norns of old;</span>
+<span class="i0">And I fought, and I fell in the morning, and I die afar from the gold:</span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;I have seen the Gods of heaven, and their Norns withal I know:</span>
+<span class="i0">They love and withhold their helping, they hate and refrain the blow;</span>
+<span class="i0">They curse and they may not sunder, they bless and they shall not blend;</span>
+<span class="i0">They have fashioned the good and the evil; they abide the change and the end."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"O Fafnir, what of the Isle, and what hast thou known of its name,</span>
+<span class="i0">Where the Gods shall mingle edges with Surt and the Sons of Flame?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"O child, O Strong Compeller? Unshapen is its hight;</span>
+<span class="i0">There the fallow blades shall be shaken and the Dark and the Day shall smite,</span>
+<span class="i0">When the Bridge of the Gods is broken, and their white steeds swim the sea,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the uttermost field is stricken, last strife of thee and me."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"What then shall endure, O Fafnir, the tale of the battle to tell?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"I am blind, O Strong Compeller, in the bonds of Death and Hell.</span>
+<span class="i0">But thee shall the rattling Gold and the red rings bring unto bane."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Yet the rings mine hand shall scatter, and the earth shall gather again."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Woe, woe! in the days passed over I bore the Helm of Dread,</span>
+<span class="i0">I reared the Face of Terror, and the hoarded hate of the Dead:</span>
+<span class="i0">I overcame and was mighty; I was wise and cherished my heart</span>
+<span class="i0">In the waste where no man wandered, and the high house builded apart:</span>
+<span class="i0">Till I met thine hand, O Sigurd, and thy might ordained from of old;</span>
+<span class="i0">And I fought and fell in the morning, and I die far off from the Gold."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then Sigurd leaned on his sword, and a dreadful voice went by</span>
+<span class="i0">Like the wail of a God departing and the War-God's misery;</span>
+<span class="i0">And strong words of ancient wisdom went by on the desert wind,</span>
+<span class="i0">The words that mar and fashion, the words that loose and bind;</span>
+<span class="i0">And sounds of a strange lamenting, and such strange things bewailed,</span>
+<span class="i0">That words to tell their meaning the tongue of man hath failed.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then all sank into silence, and the Son of Sigmund stood</span>
+<span class="i0">On the torn and furrowed desert by the pool of Fafnir's blood,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the Serpent lay before him, dead, chilly, dull, and grey;</span>
+<span class="i0">And over the Glittering Heath fair shone the sun and the day,</span>
+<span class="i0">And a light wind followed the sun and breathed o'er the fateful place,</span>
+<span class="i0">As fresh as it furrows the sea-plain or bows the acres' face.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><i>Sigurd slayeth Regin the Master of Masters on the Glittering Heath</i>.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There standeth Sigurd the Volsung, and leaneth on his sword,</span>
+<span class="i0">And beside him now is Greyfell and looks on his golden lord,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the world is awake and living; and whither now shall they wend,</span>
+<span class="i0">Who have come to the Glittering Heath, and wrought that deed to its end?</span>
+<span class="i0">For hither comes Regin the Master from the skirts of the field of death,</span>
+<span class="i0">And he shadeth his eyes from the sunlight as afoot he goeth and saith:</span>
+<span class="i0">"Ah, let me live for a while! for a while and all shall be well,</span>
+<span class="i0">When passed is the house of murder and I creep from the prison of hell."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Afoot he went o'er the desert, and he came unto Sigurd and stared</span>
+<span class="i0">At the golden gear of the man, and the Wrath yet bloody and bared,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the light locks raised by the wind, and the eyes beginning to smile,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the lovely lips of the Volsung, and the brow that knew no guile;</span>
+<span class="i0">And he murmured under his breath while his eyes grew white with wrath:</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"O who art thou, and wherefore, and why art thou in the path?"</span>
+<span class="i0">Then he turned to the ash-grey Serpent, and grovelled low on the ground,</span>
+<span class="i0">And he drank of that pool of the blood where the stones of the wild were drowned,</span>
+<span class="i0">And long he lapped as a dog; but when he arose again,</span>
+<span class="i0">Lo, a flock of the mountain-eagles that drew to the feastful plain;</span>
+<span class="i0">And he turned and looked on Sigurd, as bright in the sun he stood,</span>
+<span class="i0">A stripling fair and slender, and wiped the Wrath of the blood.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">But Regin cried: "O Dwarf-kind, O many-shifting folk,</span>
+<span class="i0">O shapes of might and wonder, am I too freed from the yoke,</span>
+<span class="i0">That binds my soul to my body a withered thing forlorn,</span>
+<span class="i0">While the short-lived fools of man-folk so fair and oft are born?</span>
+<span class="i0">Now swift in the air shall I be, and young in the concourse of kings,</span>
+<span class="i0">If my heart shall come to desire the gain of earthly things."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">And he looked and saw how Sigurd was sheathing the Flame of War,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the eagles screamed in the wind, but their voice came faint from afar:</span>
+<span class="i0">Then he scowled, and crouched and darkened, and came to Sigurd and spake:</span>
+<span class="i0">"O child, thou hast slain my brother, and the Wrath is alive and awake."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Thou sayest sooth," said Sigurd, "thy deed and mine is done:</span>
+<span class="i0">But now our ways shall sunder, for here, meseemeth, the sun</span>
+<span class="i0">Hath but little of deeds to do, and no love to win aback."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then Regin crouched before him, and he spake: "Fare on to the wrack!</span>
+<span class="i0">Fare on to the murder of men, and the deeds of thy kindred of old!</span>
+<span class="i0">And surely of thee as of them shall the tale be speedily told.</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou hast slain thy Master's brother, and what wouldst thou say thereto,</span>
+<span class="i0">Were the judges met for the judging and the doom-ring hallowed due?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then Sigurd spake as aforetime: "Thy deed and mine it was,</span>
+<span class="i0">And now our ways shall sunder, and into the world will I pass."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">But Regin darkened before him, and exceeding grim was he grown,</span>
+<span class="i0">And he spake: "Thou hast slain my brother, and wherewith wilt thou atone?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Stand up, O Master," said Sigurd, "O Singer of ancient days,</span>
+<span class="i0">And take the wealth I have won thee, ere we wend on the sundering ways.</span>
+<span class="i0">I have toiled and thou hast desired, and the Treasure is surely anear,</span>
+<span class="i0">And thou hast wisdom to find it, and I have slain thy fear."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">But Regin crouched and darkened: "Thou hast slain my brother," he said.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Take thou the Gold," quoth Sigurd, "for the ransom of my head!"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then Regin crouched and darkened, and over the earth he hung;</span>
+<span class="i0">And he said: "Thou hast slain my brother, and the Gods are yet but young."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Bright Sigurd towered above him, and the Wrath cried out in the sheath,</span>
+<span class="i0">And Regin writhed against it as the adder turns on death;</span>
+<span class="i0">And he spake: "Thou hast slain my brother, and to-day shalt thou be my thrall:</span>
+<span class="i0">Yea a King shall be my cook-boy and this heath my cooking-hall."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then he crept to the ash-grey coils where the life of his brother had lain,</span>
+<span class="i0">And he drew a glaive from his side and smote the smitten and slain,</span>
+<span class="i0">And tore the heart from Fafnir, while the eagles cried o'erhead,</span>
+<span class="i0">And sharp and shrill was their voice o'er the entrails of the dead.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then Regin spake to Sigurd: "Of this slaying wilt thou be free?</span>
+<span class="i0">Then gather thou fire together and roast the heart for me,</span>
+<span class="i0">That I may eat it and live, and be thy master and more;</span>
+<span class="i0">For therein was might and wisdom, and the grudged and hoarded lore:&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;Or else, depart on thy ways afraid from the Glittering Heath."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then he fell abackward and slept, nor set his sword in the sheath,</span>
+<span class="i0">But his hand was red on the hilts and blue were the edges bared,</span>
+<span class="i0">Ash-grey was his visage waxen, and with open eyes he stared</span>
+<span class="i0">On the height of heaven above him, and a fearful thing he seemed,</span>
+<span class="i0">As his soul went wide in the world, and of rule and kingship he dreamed.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">But Sigurd took the Heart, and wood on the waste he found,</span>
+<span class="i0">The wood that grew and died, as it crept on the niggard ground,</span>
+<span class="i0">And grew and died again, and lay like whitened bones;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the ernes cried over his head, as he builded his hearth of stones,</span>
+<span class="i0">And kindled the fire for cooking, and sat and sang o'er the roast</span>
+<span class="i0">The song of his fathers of old, and the Wolflings' gathering host:</span>
+<span class="i0">So there on the Glittering Heath rose up the little flame,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the dry sticks crackled amidst it, and alow the eagles came,</span>
+<span class="i0">And seven they were by tale, and they pitched all round about</span>
+<span class="i0">The cooking-fire of Sigurd, and sent their song-speech out:</span>
+<span class="i0">But nought he knoweth its wisdom, or the word that they would speak:</span>
+<span class="i0">And hot grew the Heart of Fafnir and sang amid the reek.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then Sigurd looketh on Regin, and he deemeth it overlong</span>
+<span class="i0">That he dighteth the dear-bought morsel, and the might for the Master of wrong,</span>
+<span class="i0">So he reacheth his hand to the roast to see if the cooking be o'er;</span>
+<span class="i0">But the blood and the fat seethed from it and scalded his finger sore,</span>
+<span class="i0">And he set his hand to his mouth to quench the fleshly smart,</span>
+<span class="i0">And he tasted the flesh of the Serpent and the blood of Fafnir's Heart:</span>
+<span class="i0">Then there came a change upon him, for the speech of fowl he knew,</span>
+<span class="i0">And wise in the ways of the beast-kind as the Dwarfs of old he grew;</span>
+<span class="i0">And he knitted his brows and hearkened, and wrath in his heart arose;</span>
+<span class="i0">For he felt beset of evil in a world of many foes.</span>
+<span class="i0">But the hilt of the Wrath he handled, and Regin's heart he saw,</span>
+<span class="i0">And how that the Foe of the Gods the net of death would draw;</span>
+<span class="i0">And his bright eyes flashed and sparkled, and his mouth grew set and stern</span>
+<span class="i0">As he hearkened the voice of the eagles, and their song began to learn.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">For the first cried out in the desert: "O mighty Sigmund's son,</span>
+<span class="i0">How long wilt thou sit and tarry now the dear-bought roast is done?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">And the second: "Volsung, arise! for the horns blow up to the hall,</span>
+<span class="i0">And dight are the purple hangings, and the King to the feasting should fall."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">And the third: "How great is the feast if the eater eat aright</span>
+<span class="i0">The Heart of the wisdom of old and the after-world's delight!"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">And the fourth: "Yea what of Regin? shall he scatter wrack o'er the world?</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall the father be slain by the son, and the brother 'gainst brother be hurled?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">And the fifth: "He hath taught a stripling the gifts of a God to give:</span>
+<span class="i0">He hath reared up a King for the slaying, that he alone might live."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">And the sixth: "He shall waken mighty as a God that scorneth a truth;</span>
+<span class="i0">He hath drunk of the blood of the Serpent, and drowned all hope and ruth."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">And the seventh: "Arise, O Sigurd, lest the hour be overlate!</span>
+<span class="i0">For the sun in the mid-noon shineth, and swift is the hand of Fate:</span>
+<span class="i0">Arise! lest the world run backward and the blind heart have its will,</span>
+<span class="i0">And once again be tangled the sundered good and ill;</span>
+<span class="i0">Lest love and hatred perish, lest the world forget its tale,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the Gods sit deedless, dreaming, in the high-walled heavenly vale."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then swift ariseth Sigurd, and the Wrath in his hand is bare,</span>
+<span class="i0">And he looketh, and Regin sleepeth, and his eyes wide-open glare;</span>
+<span class="i0">But his lips smile false in his dreaming, and his hand is on the sword;</span>
+<span class="i0">For he dreams himself the Master and the new world's fashioning-lord.</span>
+<span class="i0">And his dream hath forgotten Sigurd, and the King's life lies in the pit;</span>
+<span class="i0">He is nought; Death gnaweth upon him, while the Dwarfs in mastery sit.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">But lo, how the eyes of Sigurd the heart of the guileful behold,</span>
+<span class="i0">And great is Allfather Odin, and upriseth the Curse of the Gold,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the Branstock bloometh to heaven from the ancient wondrous root;</span>
+<span class="i0">The summer hath shone on its blossoms, and Sigurd's Wrath is the fruit:</span>
+<span class="i0">Dread then he cried in the desert: "Guile-master, lo thy deed!</span>
+<span class="i0">Hast thou nurst my life for destruction, and my death to serve thy need?</span>
+<span class="i0">Hast thou kept me here for the net and the death that tame things die?</span>
+<span class="i0">Hast thou feared me overmuch, thou Foe of the Gods on high?</span>
+<span class="i0">Lest the sword thine hand was wielding should turn about and cleave</span>
+<span class="i0">The tangled web of nothing thou hadst wearied thyself to weave.</span>
+<span class="i0">Lo here the sword and the stroke! judge the Norns betwixt us twain!</span>
+<span class="i0">But for me, I will live and die not, nor shall all my hope be vain."</span>
+<span class="i0">Then his second stroke struck Sigurd, for the Wrath flashed thin and white,</span>
+<span class="i0">And 'twixt head and trunk of Regin fierce ran the fateful light;</span>
+<span class="i0">And there lay brother by brother a faded thing and wan.</span>
+<span class="i0">But Sigurd cried in the desert: "So far have I wended on!</span>
+<span class="i0">Dead are the foes of God-home that would blend the good and the ill;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the World shall yet be famous, and the Gods shall have their will.</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor shall I be dead and forgotten, while the earth grows worse and worse,</span>
+<span class="i0">With the blind heart king o'er the people, and binding curse with curse."</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><i>How Sigurd took to him the Treasure of the Elf Andvari.</i></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now Sigurd eats of the heart that once in the Dwarf-king lay,</span>
+<span class="i0">The hoard of the wisdom begrudged, the might of the earlier day.</span>
+<span class="i0">Then wise of heart was he waxen, but longing in him grew</span>
+<span class="i0">To sow the seed he had gotten, and till the field he knew.</span>
+<span class="i0">So he leapeth aback of Greyfell, and rideth the desert bare,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the hollow slot of Fafnir, that led to the Serpent's lair.</span>
+<span class="i0">Then long he rode adown it, and the ernes flew overhead,</span>
+<span class="i0">And tidings great and glorious of that Treasure of old they said.</span>
+<span class="i0">So far o'er the waste he wended, and when the night was come</span>
+<span class="i0">He saw the earth-old dwelling, the dread Gold-wallower's home:</span>
+<span class="i0">On the skirts of the Heath it was builded by a tumbled stony bent;</span>
+<span class="i0">High went that house to the heavens, down 'neath the earth it went,</span>
+<span class="i0">Of unwrought iron fashioned for the heart of a greedy king:</span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas a mountain, blind without, and within was its plenishing</span>
+<span class="i0">But the Hoard of Andvari the ancient, and the sleeping Curse unseen,</span>
+<span class="i0">The Gold of the Gods that spared not and the greedy that have been.</span>
+<span class="i0">Through the door strode Sigurd the Volsung, and the grey moon and the sword</span>
+<span class="i0">Fell in on the tawny gold-heaps of the ancient hapless Hoard:</span>
+<span class="i0">Gold gear of hosts unburied, and the coin of cities dead,</span>
+<span class="i0">Great spoil of the ages of battle, lay there on the Serpent's bed:</span>
+<span class="i0">Huge blocks from mid-earth quarried, where none but the Dwarfs have mined,</span>
+<span class="i0">Wide sands of the golden rivers no foot of man may find</span>
+<span class="i0">Lay 'neath the spoils of the mighty and the ruddy rings of yore:</span>
+<span class="i0">But amidst was the Helm of Aweing that the Fear of earth-folk bore,</span>
+<span class="i0">And there gleamed a wonder beside it, the Hauberk all of gold,</span>
+<span class="i0">Whose like is not in the heavens nor has earth of its fellow told:</span>
+<span class="i0">There Sigurd seeth moreover Andvari's Ring of Gain,</span>
+<span class="i0">The hope of Loki's finger, the Ransom's utmost grain;</span>
+<span class="i0">For it shone on the midmost gold-heap like the first star set in the sky</span>
+<span class="i0">In the yellow space of even when moon-rise draweth anigh.</span>
+<span class="i0">Then laughed the Son of Sigmund, and stooped to the golden land,</span>
+<span class="i0">And gathered that first of the harvest and set it on his hand;</span>
+<span class="i0">And he did on the Helm of Aweing, and the Hauberk all of gold,</span>
+<span class="i0">Whose like is not in the heavens nor has earth of its fellow told:</span>
+<span class="i0">Then he praised the day of the Volsungs amid the yellow light,</span>
+<span class="i0">And he set his hand to the labour and put forth his kingly might;</span>
+<span class="i0">He dragged forth gold to the moon, on the desert's face he laid</span>
+<span class="i0">The innermost earth's adornment, and rings for the nameless made;</span>
+<span class="i0">He toiled and loaded Greyfell, and the cloudy war-steed shone</span>
+<span class="i0">And the gear of Sigurd rattled in the flood of moonlight wan;</span>
+<span class="i0">There he toiled and loaded Greyfell, and the Volsung's armour rang</span>
+<span class="i0">Mid the yellow bed of the Serpent: but without the eagles sang:</span>
+</div></div>
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Bind the red rings, O Sigurd! let the gold shine free and clear!</span>
+<span class="i0">For what hath the Son of the Volsungs the ancient Curse to fear?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Bind the red rings, O Sigurd! for thy tale is well begun,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the world shall be good and gladdened by the Gold lit up by the sun."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Bind the red rings, O Sigurd, and gladden all thine heart!</span>
+<span class="i0">For the world shall make thee merry ere thou and she depart."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Bind the red rings, O Sigurd! for the ways go green below,</span>
+<span class="i0">Go green to the dwelling of Kings, and the halls that the Queen-folk know."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Bind the red rings, O Sigurd! for what is there bides by the way,</span>
+<span class="i0">Save the joy of folk to awaken, and the dawn of the merry day?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Bind the red rings, O Sigurd! for the strife awaits thine hand,</span>
+<span class="i0">And a plenteous war-field's reaping, and the praise of many a land."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Bind the red rings, O Sigurd! But how shall store-house hold</span>
+<span class="i0">That glory of thy winning and the tidings to be told?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Now the moon was dead, and the star-worlds were great on the heavenly plain,</span>
+<span class="i0">When the steed was fully laden; then Sigurd taketh the rein</span>
+<span class="i0">And turns to the ruined rock-wall that the lair was built beneath,</span>
+<span class="i0">For there he deemed was the gate and the door of the Glittering Heath,</span>
+<span class="i0">But not a whit moved Greyfell for aught that the King might do;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then Sigurd pondered a while, till the heart of the beast he knew,</span>
+<span class="i0">And clad in all his war-gear he leaped to the saddle-stead,</span>
+<span class="i0">And with pride and mirth neighed Greyfell and tossed aloft his head,</span>
+<span class="i0">And sprang unspurred o'er the waste, and light and swift he went,</span>
+<span class="i0">And breasted the broken rampart, the stony tumbled bent;</span>
+<span class="i0">And over the brow he clomb, and there beyond was the world,</span>
+<span class="i0">A place of many mountains and great crags together hurled.</span>
+<span class="i0">So down to the west he wendeth, and goeth swift and light,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the stars are beginning to wane, and the day is mingled with night;</span>
+<span class="i0">For full fain was the sun to arise and look on the Gold set free,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the Dwarf-wrought rings of the Treasure and the gifts from the floor of the sea.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><i>How Sigurd awoke Brynhild upon Hindfell.</i></h4>
+
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">By long roads rideth Sigurd amidst that world of stone,</span>
+<span class="i0">And somewhat south he turneth; for he would not be alone,</span>
+<span class="i0">But longs for the dwellings of man-folk, and the kingly people's speech,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the days of the glee and the joyance, where men laugh each to each.</span>
+<span class="i0">But still the desert endureth, and afar must Greyfell fare</span>
+<span class="i0">From the wrack of the Glittering Heath, and Fafnir's golden lair.</span>
+<span class="i0">Long Sigurd rideth the waste, when, lo, on a morning of day</span>
+<span class="i0">From out of the tangled crag-walls, amidst the cloud-land grey</span>
+<span class="i0">Comes up a mighty mountain, and it is as though there burns</span>
+<span class="i0">A torch amidst of its cloud-wreath; so thither Sigurd turns,</span>
+<span class="i0">For he deems indeed from its topmost to look on the best of the earth;</span>
+<span class="i0">And Greyfell neigheth beneath him, and his heart is full of mirth.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">So he rideth higher and higher, and the light grows great and strange,</span>
+<span class="i0">And forth from the clouds it flickers, till at noon they gather and change,</span>
+<span class="i0">And settle thick on the mountain, and hide its head from sight;</span>
+<span class="i0">But the winds in a while are awakened, and day bettereth ere the night,</span>
+<span class="i0">And, lifted a measureless mass o'er the desert crag-walls high,</span>
+<span class="i0">Cloudless the mountain riseth against the sunset sky,</span>
+<span class="i0">The sea of the sun grown golden, as it ebbs from the day's desire;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the light that afar was a torch is grown a river of fire,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the mountain is black above it, and below is it dark and dun;</span>
+<span class="i0">And there is the head of Hindfell as an island in the sun.</span>
+</div></div>
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Night falls, but yet rides Sigurd, and hath no thought of rest,</span>
+<span class="i0">For he longs to climb that rock-world and behold the earth at its best;</span>
+<span class="i0">But now mid the maze of the foot-hills he seeth the light no more,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the stars are lovely and gleaming on the lightless heavenly floor.</span>
+<span class="i0">So up and up he wendeth till the night is wearing thin;</span>
+<span class="i0">And he rideth a rift of the mountain, and all is dark therein,</span>
+<span class="i0">Till the stars are dimmed by dawning and the wakening world is cold;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then afar in the upper rock-wall a breach doth he behold,</span>
+<span class="i0">And a flood of light poured inward the doubtful dawning blinds:</span>
+<span class="i0">So swift he rideth thither and the mouth of the breach he finds,</span>
+<span class="i0">And sitteth awhile on Greyfell on the marvellous thing to gaze:</span>
+<span class="i0">For lo, the side of Hindfell enwrapped by the fervent blaze,</span>
+<span class="i0">And nought 'twixt earth and heaven save a world of flickering flame,</span>
+<span class="i0">And a hurrying shifting tangle, where the dark rents went and came.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Great groweth the heart of Sigurd with uttermost desire,</span>
+<span class="i0">And he crieth kind to Greyfell, and they hasten up, and nigher,</span>
+<span class="i0">Till he draweth rein in the dawning on the face of Hindfell's steep:</span>
+<span class="i0">But who shall heed the dawning where the tongues of that wildfire leap?</span>
+<span class="i0">For they weave a wavering wall, that driveth over the heaven</span>
+<span class="i0">The wind that is born within it; nor ever aside is it driven</span>
+<span class="i0">By the mightiest wind of the waste, and the rain-flood amidst it is nought;</span>
+<span class="i0">And no wayfarer's door and no window the hand of its builder hath wrought.</span>
+<span class="i0">But thereon is the Volsung smiling as its breath uplifteth his hair,</span>
+<span class="i0">And his eyes shine bright with its image, and his mail gleams white and fair,</span>
+<span class="i0">And his war-helm pictures the heavens and the waning stars behind:</span>
+<span class="i0">But his neck is Greyfell stretching to snuff at the flame-wall blind,</span>
+<span class="i0">And his cloudy flank upheaveth, and tinkleth the knitted mail,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the gold of the uttermost waters is waxen wan and pale.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Now Sigurd turns in his saddle, and the hilt of the Wrath he shifts,</span>
+<span class="i0">And draws a girth the tighter; then the gathered reins he lifts,</span>
+<span class="i0">And crieth aloud to Greyfell, and rides at the wildfire's heart;</span>
+<span class="i0">But the white wall wavers before him and the flame-flood rusheth apart,</span>
+<span class="i0">And high o'er his head it riseth, and wide and wild is its roar</span>
+<span class="i0">As it beareth the mighty tidings to the very heavenly floor:</span>
+<span class="i0">But he rideth through its roaring as the warrior rides the rye,</span>
+<span class="i0">When it bows with the wind of the summer and the hid spears draw anigh;</span>
+<span class="i0">The white flame licks his raiment and sweeps through Greyfell's mane,</span>
+<span class="i0">And bathes both hands of Sigurd and the hilts of Fafnir's bane,</span>
+<span class="i0">And winds about his war-helm and mingles with his hair,</span>
+<span class="i0">But nought his raiment dusketh or dims his glittering gear;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then it fails and fades and darkens till all seems left behind,</span>
+<span class="i0">And dawn and the blaze is swallowed in mid-mirk stark and blind.</span>
+</div></div>
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But forth a little further and a little further on</span>
+<span class="i0">And all is calm about him, and he sees the scorched earth wan</span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath a glimmering twilight, and he turns his conquering eyes,</span>
+<span class="i0">And a ring of pale slaked ashes on the side of Hindfell lies;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the world of the waste is beyond it; and all is hushed and grey,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the new-risen moon is a-paleing, and the stars grow faint with day.</span>
+<span class="i0">Then Sigurd looked before him and a Shield-burg there he saw,</span>
+<span class="i0">A wall of the tiles of Odin wrought clear without a flaw,</span>
+<span class="i0">The gold by the silver gleaming, and the ruddy by the white;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the blazonings of their glory were done upon them bright,</span>
+<span class="i0">As of dear things wrought for the war-lords new come to Odin's hall.</span>
+<span class="i0">Piled high aloft to the heavens uprose that battle-wall,</span>
+<span class="i0">And far o'er the topmost shield-rim for a banner of fame there hung</span>
+<span class="i0">A glorious golden buckler; and against the staff it rung</span>
+<span class="i0">As the earliest wind of dawning uprose on Hindfell's face</span>
+<span class="i0">And the light from the yellowing east beamed soft on the shielded place.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">But the Wrath cried out in answer as Sigurd leapt adown</span>
+<span class="i0">To the wasted soil of the desert by that rampart of renown;</span>
+<span class="i0">He looked but little beneath it, and the dwelling of God it seemed,</span>
+<span class="i0">As against its gleaming silence the eager Sigurd gleamed:</span>
+<span class="i0">He draweth not sword from scabbard, as the wall he wendeth around,</span>
+<span class="i0">And it is but the wind and Sigurd that wakeneth any sound:</span>
+<span class="i0">But, lo, to the gate he cometh, and the doors are open wide,</span>
+<span class="i0">And no warder the way withstandeth, and no earls by the threshold abide;</span>
+<span class="i0">So he stands awhile and marvels; then the baleful light of the Wrath</span>
+<span class="i0">Gleams bare in his ready hand as he wendeth the inward path:</span>
+<span class="i0">For he doubteth some guile of the Gods, or perchance some Dwarf-king's snare,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or a mock of the Giant people that shall fade in the morning air:</span>
+<span class="i0">But he getteth him in and gazeth; and a wall doth he behold,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the ruddy set by the white, and the silver by the gold;</span>
+<span class="i0">But within the garth that it girdeth no work of man is set,</span>
+<span class="i0">But the utmost head of Hindfell ariseth higher yet;</span>
+<span class="i0">And below in the very midmost is a Giant-fashioned mound,</span>
+<span class="i0">Piled high as the rims of the Shield-burg above the level ground;</span>
+<span class="i0">And there, on that mound of the Giants, o'er the wilderness forlorn,</span>
+<span class="i0">A pale grey image lieth, and gleameth in the morn.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">So there was Sigurd alone; and he went from the shielded door,</span>
+<span class="i0">And aloft in the desert of wonder the Light of the Branstock he bore;</span>
+<span class="i0">And he set his face to the earth-mound, and beheld the image wan,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the dawn was growing about it; and, lo, the shape of a man</span>
+<span class="i0">Set forth to the eyeless desert on the tower-top of the world,</span>
+<span class="i0">High over the cloud-wrought castle whence the windy bolts are hurled.</span>
+</div></div>
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now he comes to the mound and climbs it, and will see if the man be dead;</span>
+<span class="i0">Some King of the days forgotten laid there with crown&egrave;d head,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or the frame of a God, it may be, that in heaven hath changed his life,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or some glorious heart belov&egrave;d, God-rapt from the earthly strife:</span>
+<span class="i0">Now over the body he standeth, and seeth it shapen fair,</span>
+<span class="i0">And clad from head to foot-sole in pale grey-glittering gear,</span>
+<span class="i0">In a hauberk wrought as straitly as though to the flesh it were grown:</span>
+<span class="i0">But a great helm hideth the head and is girt with a glittering crown.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">So thereby he stoopeth and kneeleth, for he deems it were good indeed</span>
+<span class="i0">If the breath of life abide there and the speech to help at need;</span>
+<span class="i0">And as sweet as the summer wind from a garden under the sun</span>
+<span class="i0">Cometh forth on the topmost Hindfell the breath of that sleeping-one.</span>
+<span class="i0">Then he saith he will look on the face, if it bear him love or hate,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or the bonds for his life's constraining, or the sundering doom of fate.</span>
+<span class="i0">So he draweth the helm from the head, and, lo, the brow snow-white,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the smooth unfurrowed cheeks, and the wise lips breathing light;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the face of a woman it is, and the fairest that ever was born,</span>
+<span class="i0">Shown forth to the empty heavens and the desert world forlorn:</span>
+<span class="i0">But he looketh, and loveth her sore, and he longeth her spirit to move,</span>
+<span class="i0">And awaken her heart to the world, that she may behold him and love.</span>
+<span class="i0">And he toucheth her breast and her hands, and he loveth her passing sore;</span>
+<span class="i0">And he saith: "Awake! I am Sigurd;" but she moveth never the more.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then he looked on his bare bright blade, and he said: "Thou&mdash;what wilt thou do?</span>
+<span class="i0">For indeed as I came by the war-garth thy voice of desire I knew."</span>
+<span class="i0">Bright burnt the pale blue edges for the sunrise drew anear,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the rims of the Shield-burg glittered, and the east was exceeding clear:</span>
+<span class="i0">So the eager edges he setteth to the Dwarf-wrought battle-coat</span>
+<span class="i0">Where the hammered ring-knit collar constraineth the woman's throat;</span>
+<span class="i0">But the sharp Wrath biteth and rendeth, and before it fail the rings,</span>
+<span class="i0">And, lo, the gleam of the linen, and the light of golden things:</span>
+<span class="i0">Then he driveth the blue steel onward, and through the skirt, and out,</span>
+<span class="i0">Till nought but the rippling linen is wrapping her about;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then he deems her breath comes quicker and her breast begins to heave,</span>
+<span class="i0">So he turns about the War-Flame and rends down either sleeve,</span>
+<span class="i0">Till her arms lie white in her raiment, and a river of sun-bright hair</span>
+<span class="i0">Flows free o'er bosom and shoulder and floods the desert bare.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then a flush cometh over her visage and a sigh upheaveth her breast,</span>
+<span class="i0">And her eyelids quiver and open, and she wakeneth into rest;</span>
+<span class="i0">Wide-eyed on the dawning she gazeth, too glad to change or smile,</span>
+<span class="i0">And but little moveth her body, nor speaketh she yet for a while;</span>
+<span class="i0">And yet kneels Sigurd moveless her wakening speech to heed,</span>
+<span class="i0">While soft the waves of the daylight o'er the starless heavens speed,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the gleaming rims of the Shield-burg yet bright and brighter grow,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the thin moon hangeth her horns dead-white in the golden glow.</span>
+<span class="i0">Then she turned and gazed on Sigurd, and her eyes met the Volsung's eyes.</span>
+<span class="i0">And mighty and measureless now did the tide of his love arise,</span>
+<span class="i0">For their longing had met and mingled, and he knew of her heart that she loved,</span>
+<span class="i0">As she spake unto nothing but him and her lips with the speech-flood moved:</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"O, what is the thing so mighty that my weary sleep hath torn,</span>
+<span class="i0">And rent the fallow bondage, and the wan woe over-worn?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">He said: "The hand of Sigurd and the Sword of Sigmund's son,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the heart that the Volsungs fashioned this deed for thee have done."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">But she said: "Where then is Odin that laid me here alow?</span>
+<span class="i0">Long lasteth the grief of the world, and man-folk's tangled woe!"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"He dwelleth above," said Sigurd, "but I on the earth abide,</span>
+<span class="i0">And I came from the Glittering Heath the waves of thy fire to ride."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">But therewith the sun rose upward and lightened all the earth,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the light flashed up to the heavens from the rims of the glorious girth;</span>
+<span class="i0">But they twain arose together, and with both her palms outspread,</span>
+<span class="i0">And bathed in the light returning, she cried aloud and said:</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"All hail O Day and thy Sons, and thy kin of the coloured things!</span>
+<span class="i0">Hail, following Night, and thy Daughter that leadeth thy wavering wings!</span>
+<span class="i0">Look down with unangry eyes on us to-day alive,</span>
+<span class="i0">And give us the hearts victorious, and the gain for which we strive!</span>
+<span class="i0">All hail, ye Lords of God-home, and ye Queens of the House of Gold!</span>
+<span class="i0">Hail thou dear Earth that bearest, and thou Wealth of field and fold!</span>
+<span class="i0">Give us, your noble children, the glory of wisdom and speech,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the hearts and the hands of healing, and the mouths and hands that teach!"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then they turned and were knit together; and oft and o'er again</span>
+<span class="i0">They craved, and kissed rejoicing, and their hearts were full and fain.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then Sigurd looketh upon her, and the words from his heart arise:</span>
+<span class="i0">"Thou art the fairest of earth, and the wisest of the wise;</span>
+<span class="i0">O who art thou that lovest? I am Sigurd, e'en as I told;</span>
+<span class="i0">I have slain the Foe of the Gods, and gotten the Ancient Gold;</span>
+<span class="i0">And great were the gain of thy love, and the gift of mine earthly days,</span>
+<span class="i0">If we twain should never sunder as we wend on the changing ways.</span>
+<span class="i0">O who art thou that lovest, thou fairest of all things born?</span>
+<span class="i0">And what meaneth thy sleep and thy slumber in the wilderness forlorn?"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">She said: "I am she that loveth: I was born of the earthly folk,</span>
+<span class="i0">But of old Allfather took me from the Kings and their wedding yoke:</span>
+<span class="i0">And he called me the Victory-Wafter, and I went and came as he would,</span>
+<span class="i0">And I chose the slain for his war-host, and the days were glorious and good,</span>
+<span class="i0">Till the thoughts of my heart overcame me, and the pride of my wisdom and speech,</span>
+<span class="i0">And I scorned the earth-folk's Framer and the Lord of the world I must teach:</span>
+<span class="i0">For the death-doomed I caught from the sword, and the fated life I slew,</span>
+<span class="i0">And I deemed that my deeds were goodly, and that long I should do and undo.</span>
+<span class="i0">But Allfather came against me and the God in his wrath arose;</span>
+<span class="i0">And he cried: 'Thou hast thought in thy folly that the Gods have friends and foes,</span>
+<span class="i0">That they wake, and the world wends onward, that they sleep, and the world slips back,</span>
+<span class="i0">That they laugh, and the world's weal waxeth, that they frown and fashion the wrack:</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou hast cast up the curse against me; it shall fall aback on thine head;</span>
+<span class="i0">Go back to the sons of repentance, with the children of sorrow wed!</span>
+<span class="i0">For the Gods are great unholpen, and their grief is seldom seen,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the wrong that they will and must be is soon as it hath not been.'</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Yet I thought: 'Shall I wed in the world, shall I gather grief on the earth?</span>
+<span class="i0">Then the fearless heart shall I wed, and bring the best to birth,</span>
+<span class="i0">And fashion such tales for the telling, that Earth shall be holpen at least,</span>
+<span class="i0">If the Gods think scorn of its fairness, as they sit at the changeless feast.'</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Then somewhat smiled Allfather; and he spake: 'So let it be!</span>
+<span class="i0">The doom thereof abideth; the doom of me and thee.</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet long shall the time pass over ere thy waking-day be born:</span>
+<span class="i0">Fare forth, and forget and be weary 'neath the Sting of the Sleepful Thorn!'</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"So I came to the head of Hindfell and the ruddy shields and white,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the wall of the wildfire wavering around the isle of night;</span>
+<span class="i0">And there the Sleep-thorn pierced me, and the slumber on me fell,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the night of nameless sorrows that hath no tale to tell.</span>
+<span class="i0">Now I am she that loveth; and the day is nigh at hand</span>
+<span class="i0">When I, who have ridden the sea-realm and the regions of the land,</span>
+<span class="i0">And dwelt in the measureless mountains and the forge of stormy days,</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall dwell in the house of my fathers and the land of the people's praise;</span>
+<span class="i0">And there shall hand meet hand, and heart by heart shall beat,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the lying-down shall be joyous, and the morn's uprising sweet.</span>
+<span class="i0">Lo now, I look on thine heart and behold of thine inmost will,</span>
+<span class="i0">That thou of the days wouldst hearken that our portion shall fulfill;</span>
+<span class="i0">But O, be wise of man-folk, and the hope of thine heart refrain!</span>
+<span class="i0">As oft in the battle's beginning ye vex the steed with the rein,</span>
+<span class="i0">Lest at last in its latter ending, when the sword hath hushed the horn,</span>
+<span class="i0">His limbs should be weary and fail, and his might be over-worn.</span>
+<span class="i0">O be wise, lest thy love constrain me, and my vision wax o'er-clear,</span>
+<span class="i0">And thou ask of the thing that thou shouldst not, and the thing that thou wouldst not hear.</span>
+</div></div>
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+<div class="poem2"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Know thou, most mighty of men, that the Norns shall order all,</span>
+<span class="i0">And yet without thine helping shall no whit of their will befall;</span>
+<span class="i0">Be wise! 'tis a marvel of words, and a mock for the fool and the blind;</span>
+<span class="i0">But I saw it writ in the heavens, and its fashioning there did I find:</span>
+<span class="i0">And the night of the Norns and their slumber, and the tide when the world runs back,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the way of the sun is tangled, it is wrought of the dastard's lack.</span>
+<span class="i0">But the day when the fair earth blossoms, and the sun is bright above,</span>
+<span class="i0">Of the daring deeds is it fashioned and the eager hearts of love.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Be wise, and cherish thine hope in the freshness of the days,</span>
+<span class="i0">And scatter its seed from thine hand in the field of the people's praise;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then fair shall it fall in the furrow, and some the earth shall speed,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the sons of men shall marvel at the blossom of the deed:</span>
+<span class="i0">But some the earth shall speed not; nay rather, the wind of the heaven</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall waft it away from thy longing&mdash;and a gift to the Gods hast thou given,</span>
+<span class="i0">And a tree for the roof and the wall in the house of the hope that shall be,</span>
+<span class="i0">Though it seemeth our very sorrow, and the grief of thee and me.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Strive not with the fools of man-folk: for belike thou shalt overcome;</span>
+<span class="i0">And what then is the gain of thine hunting when thou bearest the quarry home?</span>
+<span class="i0">Or else shall the fool overcome thee, and what deed thereof shall grow?</span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, strive with the wise man rather, and increase thy woe and his woe;</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet thereof a gain hast thou gotten; and the half of thine heart hast thou won</span>
+<span class="i0">If thou mayst prevail against him, and his deeds are the deeds thou hast done:</span>
+<span class="i0">Yea, and if thou fall before him, in him shalt thou live again,</span>
+<span class="i0">And thy deeds in his hand shall blossom, and his heart of thine heart shall be fain.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"When thou hearest the fool rejoicing, and he saith, 'It is over and past,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the wrong was better than right, and hate turns into love at the last,</span>
+<span class="i0">And we strove for nothing at all, and the Gods are fallen asleep;</span>
+<span class="i0">For so good is the world a growing that the evil good shall reap:'</span>
+<span class="i0">Then loosen thy sword in the scabbard and settle the helm on thine head,</span>
+<span class="i0">For men betrayed are mighty, and great are the wrongfully dead.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Wilt thou do the deed and repent it? thou hadst better never been born:</span>
+<span class="i0">Wilt thou do the deed and exalt it? then thy fame shall be outworn:</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou shalt do the deed and abide it, and sit on thy throne on high,</span>
+<span class="i0">And look on to-day and to-morrow as those that never die.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"Love thou the Gods&mdash;and withstand them, lest thy fame should fail in the end,</span>
+<span class="i0">And thou be but their thrall and their bondsman, who wert born for their very friend:</span>
+<span class="i0">For few things from the Gods are hidden, and the hearts of men they know,</span>
+<span class="i0">And how that none rejoiceth to quail and crouch alow.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"I have spoken the words, belov&egrave;d, to thy matchless glory and worth;</span>
+<span class="i0">But thy heart to my heart hath been speaking, though my tongue hath set it forth:</span>
+<span class="i0">For I am she that loveth, and I know what thou wouldst teach</span>
+<span class="i0">From the heart of thine unlearned wisdom, and I needs must speak thy speech."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then words were weary and silent, but oft and o'er again</span>
+<span class="i0">They craved and kissed rejoicing, and their hearts were full and fain.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then spake the Son of Sigmund: "Fairest, and most of worth,</span>
+<span class="i0">Hast thou seen the ways of man-folk and the regions of the earth?</span>
+<span class="i0">Then speak yet more of wisdom; for most meet meseems it is</span>
+<span class="i0">That my soul to thy soul be shapen, and that I should know thy bliss."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">So she took his right hand meekly, nor any word would say,</span>
+<span class="i0">Not e'en of love or praising, his longing to delay;</span>
+<span class="i0">And they sat on the side of Hindfell, and their fain eyes looked and loved,</span>
+<span class="i0">As she told of the hidden matters whereby the world is moved:</span>
+<span class="i0">And she told of the framing of all things, and the houses of the heaven;</span>
+<span class="i0">And she told of the star-worlds' courses, and how the winds be driven;</span>
+<span class="i0">And she told of the Norns and their names, and the fate that abideth the earth;</span>
+<span class="i0">And she told of the ways of King-folk in their anger and their mirth;</span>
+<span class="i0">And she spake of the love of women, and told of the flame that burns,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the fall of mighty houses, and the friend that falters and turns,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the lurking blinded vengeance, and the wrong that amendeth wrong,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the hand that repenteth its stroke, and the grief that endureth for long;</span>
+<span class="i0">And how man shall bear and forbear, and be master of all that is;</span>
+<span class="i0">And how man shall measure it all, the wrath, and the grief, and the bliss.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"I saw the body of Wisdom, and of shifting guise was she wrought,</span>
+<span class="i0">And I stretched out my hands to hold her, and a mote of the dust they caught;</span>
+<span class="i0">And I prayed her to come for my teaching, and she came in the midnight dream&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">And I woke and might not remember, nor betwixt her tangle deem:</span>
+<span class="i0">She spake, and how might I hearken; I heard, and how might I know;</span>
+<span class="i0">I knew, and how might I fashion, or her hidden glory show?</span>
+<span class="i0">All things I have told thee of Wisdom are but fleeting images</span>
+<span class="i0">Of her hosts that abide in the Heavens, and her light that Allfather sees:</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet wise is the sower that sows, and wise is the reaper that reaps,</span>
+<span class="i0">And wise is the smith in his smiting, and wise is the warder that keeps:</span>
+<span class="i0">And wise shalt thou be to deliver, and I shall be wise to desire;</span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;And lo, the tale that is told, and the sword and the wakening fire!</span>
+<span class="i0">Lo now, I am she that loveth, and hark how Greyfell neighs,</span>
+<span class="i0">And Fafnir's Bed is gleaming, and green go the downward ways.</span>
+<span class="i0">The road to the children of men and the deeds that thou shalt do</span>
+<span class="i0">In the joy of thy life-days' morning, when thine hope is fashioned anew.</span>
+<span class="i0">Come now, O Bane of the Serpent, for now is the high-noon come,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the sun hangeth over Hindfell and looks on the earth-folk's home;</span>
+<span class="i0">But the soul is so great within thee, and so glorious are thine eyes,</span>
+<span class="i0">And me so love constraineth, and mine heart that was called the wise,</span>
+<span class="i0">That we twain may see men's dwellings and the house where we shall dwell,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the place of our life's beginning, where the tale shall be to tell."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">So they climb the burg of Hindfell, and hand in hand they fare,</span>
+<span class="i0">Till all about and above them is nought but the sunlit air,</span>
+<span class="i0">And there close they cling together rejoicing in their mirth;</span>
+<span class="i0">For far away beneath them lie the kingdoms of the earth,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the garths of men-folk's dwellings and the streams that water them,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the rich and plenteous acres, and the silver ocean's hem,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the woodland wastes and the mountains, and all that holdeth all;</span>
+<span class="i0">The house and the ship and the island, the loom and the mine and the stall,</span>
+<span class="i0">The beds of bane and healing, the crafts that slay and save,</span>
+<span class="i0">The temple of God and the Doom-ring, the cradle and the grave.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then spake the Victory-Wafter: "O King of the Earthly Age,</span>
+<span class="i0">As a God thou beholdest the treasure and the joy of thine heritage,</span>
+<span class="i0">And where on the wings of his hope is the spirit of Sigurd borne?</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet I bid thee hover awhile as a lark alow on the corn;</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet I bid thee look on the land 'twixt the wood and the silver sea</span>
+<span class="i0">In the bight of the swirling river, and the house that cherished me!</span>
+<span class="i0">There dwelleth mine earthly sister and the king that she hath wed;</span>
+<span class="i0">There morn by morn aforetime I woke on the golden bed;</span>
+<span class="i0">There eve by eve I tarried mid the speech and the lays of kings;</span>
+<span class="i0">There noon by noon I wandered and plucked the blossoming things;</span>
+<span class="i0">The little land of Lymdale by the swirling river's side,</span>
+<span class="i0">Where Brynhild once was I called in the days ere my father died;</span>
+<span class="i0">The little land of Lymdale 'twixt the woodland and the sea,</span>
+<span class="i0">Where on thee mine eyes shall brighten and thine eyes shall beam on me."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"I shall seek thee there," said Sigurd, "when the day-spring is begun,</span>
+<span class="i0">Ere we wend the world together in the season of the sun."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">"I shall bide thee there," said Brynhild, "till the fullness of the days,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the time for the glory appointed, and the springing-tide of praise."</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">From his hand then draweth Sigurd Andvari's ancient Gold;</span>
+<span class="i0">There is nought but the sky above them as the ring together they hold,</span>
+<span class="i0">The shapen ancient token, that hath no change nor end,</span>
+<span class="i0">No change, and no beginning, no flaw for God to mend:</span>
+<span class="i0">Then Sigurd cries: "O Brynhild, now hearken while I swear,</span>
+<span class="i0">That the sun shall die in the heavens and the day no more be fair,</span>
+<span class="i0">If I seek not love in Lymdale and the house that fostered thee,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the land where thou awakedst 'twixt the woodland and the sea!"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">And she cried: "O Sigurd, Sigurd, now hearken while I swear</span>
+<span class="i0">That the day shall die for ever and the sun to blackness wear,</span>
+<span class="i0">Ere I forget thee, Sigurd, as I lie 'twixt wood and sea</span>
+<span class="i0">In the little land of Lymdale and the house that fostered me!"</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">Then he set the ring on her finger and once, if ne'er again,</span>
+<span class="i0">They kissed and clung together, and their hearts were full and fain.</span>
+&nbsp;
+<span class="i0">So the day grew old about them and the joy of their desire,</span>
+<span class="i0">And eve and the sunset came, and faint grew the sunset fire,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the shadowless death of the day was sweet in the golden tide;</span>
+<span class="i0">But the stars shone forth on the world, and the twilight changed and died;</span>
+<span class="i0">And sure if the first of man-folk had been born to that starry night,</span>
+<span class="i0">And had heard no tale of the sunrise, he had never longed for the light:</span>
+<span class="i0">But Earth longed amidst her slumber, as 'neath the night she lay,</span>
+<span class="i0">And fresh and all abundant abode the deeds of Day.</span>
+</div></div>
+<br />
+<h4>THE END.</h4>
+
+
+
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+<h3>PRINTING OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHER.</h3>
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+<h4><i>Sold by all the principal booksellers on the Continent</i>.</h4>
+
+<h2>January   1886.</h2>
+
+<h1>TAUCHNITZ EDITION.</h1>
+
+<h3>Each volume 1 Mark 60 Pf. or 2 Francs.</h3>
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><i>This Collection of British Authors, Tautchnitz Edition, will contain
+the new works of the most admired English and American Writers,
+immediately on their appearance, with copyright for continental
+circulation.</i></p>
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+
+<h2>Contents:</h2>
+
+<table summary="ContentsEnd" width="40%">
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl">Collection of British Authors, vol. 1-2377</td>
+<td class="tdr"><i>Page</i> 2-13.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl">Collection of German Authors, vol. 1-47</td>
+<td class="tdr">"&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;14.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl">Series for the Young, vol. 1-30</td>
+<td class="tdr">"&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;15.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl">Manuals of Conversation</td>
+<td class="tdr">"&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;15.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl">Dictionaries</td>
+<td class="tdr">"&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;16.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<h2>Latest Volumes:</h2>
+
+<p>
+The Heir Presumptive. By <i>Florence Marryat</i>, 2 vols.<br />
+<br />
+Othmar. By <i>Ouida</i>, 3 vols.<br />
+<br />
+The Luck of the Darrells. By <i>James Payn</i>, 2 vols.<br />
+<br />
+A Girton Girl. By Mrs. <i>Annie Edwardes</i>, 2 vols.<br />
+<br />
+Murder or Manslaughter? By <i>Helen Mathers</i>, 1 v.<br />
+<br />
+Andromeda. By <i>George Fleming</i>, 2 vols.<br />
+<br />
+Maruja. By <i>Bret Harte</i>, 1 vol.<br />
+<br />
+A Second Life. By Mrs. <i>Alexander</i>, 3 vols.<br />
+<br />
+Colonel Enderby's Wife. By <i>Lucas Malet</i>, 2 vols.<br />
+<br />
+A Family Affair. By <i>Hugh Conway</i>, 2 vols.<br />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Collection of British Authors.</h2>
+
+
+<p>
+Rev. W. Adams:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sacred Allegories 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Miss Aguilar:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Home Influence 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Mother's Recompense 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Hamilton A&iuml;d&eacute;:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rita 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Carr of Carrlyon 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Marstons 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In that State of Life 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Morals and Mysteries 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Penruddocke 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"A nine Days' Wonder" 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Poet and Peer 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Introduced to Society 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+W. Harrison Ainsworth:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Windsor Castle 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Saint James's 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Jack Sheppard (w. portrait) 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Lancashire Witches 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Star-Chamber 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Flitch of Bacon 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Spendthrift 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mervyn Clitheroe 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ovingdean Grange 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Constable of the Tower 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Lord Mayor of London 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cardinal Pole 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">John Law 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Spanish Match 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Constable de Bourbon 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Old Court 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Myddleton Pomfret 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The South-Sea Bubble 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hilary St. Ives 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Talbot Harland 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tower Hill 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Boscobel; or, the Royal Oak 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Good Old Times 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Merry England 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Goldsmith's Wife 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Preston Fight 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Chetwynd Calverley 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Leaguer of Lathom 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Fall of Somerset 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beatrice Tyldesley 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beau Nash 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Stanley Brereton 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+L. M. Alcott:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Little Women 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Little Men 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An Old-Fashioned Girl 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Mrs. Alexander:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Second Life 3 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Alice, Grand Duchess of Hesse (with Portrait) 2 v.<br />
+<br />
+"All for Greed," Author of&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All for Greed 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Love the Avenger 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Thomas Bailey Aldrich:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Marjorie Daw and other Tales 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Stillwater Tragedy 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+L. Alldridge:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By Love and Law 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The World she Awoke in 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+F. Anstey:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Giant's Robe 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Miss Austen:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sense and Sensibility 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mansfield Park 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pride and Prejudice 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Northanger Abbey, and Persuasion 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Emma 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Lady Barker:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Station Life in New Zealand 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Station Amusements in New Zealand 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Year's Housekeeping in South Africa 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Letters to Guy &amp; A Distant Shore&mdash;Rodrigues 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Rev. R. H. Baynes:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lyra Anglicana, Hymns &amp; Sacred Songs 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Lord Beaconsfield:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>vide</i> Disraeli.</span><br />
+<br />
+Averil Beaumont:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thornicroft's Model 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Currer Bell (Charlotte Bront&euml;):<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Jane Eyre 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shirley 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Villette 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Professor 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Ellis &amp; Acton Bell:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wuthering Heights, and Agnes Grey 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Frank Lee Benedict:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">St. Simon's Niece 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Walter Besant:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Revolt of Man 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Golden Butterfly by Besant and Rice 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ready-Money Mortiboy by Besant and Rice 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dorothy Forster 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+W. Black:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Daughter of Heth 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In Silk Attire 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The strange Adventures of a Phaeton 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Princess of Thule 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Kilmeny 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Maid of Killeena 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Three Feathers 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lady Silverdale's Sweetheart 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Madcap Violet 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Green Pastures and Piccadilly 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Macleod of Dare 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">White Wings 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sunrise 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Beautiful Wretch 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mr. Pisistratus Brown, M.P., etc. 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shandon Bells (w. portrait) 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Judith Shakespeare 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Wise Women of Inverness 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+R. D. Blackmore:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Alice Lorraine 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mary Anerley 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Christowell 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tommy Upmore 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Blackwood."<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tales from&mdash; 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Second Series</i> 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Isa Blagden:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Woman I loved, and the Woman who loved me; A Tuscan Wedding 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Lady Blessington:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Meredith 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Strathern 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Memoirs of a Femme de Chambre 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Marmaduke Herbert 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Country Quarters (w. portrait) 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Baroness Bloomfield:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Reminiscences of Court and Diplomatic Life (w. Portrait of Her Majesty the Queen) 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Miss Braddon:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lady Audley's Secret 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Aurora Floyd 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Eleanor's Victory 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">John Marchmont's Legacy 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Henry Dunbar 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Doctor's Wife 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Only a Clod 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sir Jasper's Tenant 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Lady's Mile 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rupert Godwin 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dead-Sea Fruit 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Run to Earth 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fenton's Quest 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Lovels of Arden 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Strangers and Pilgrims 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lucius Davoren 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Taken at the Flood 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lost for Love 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Strange World 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hostages to Fortune 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dead Men's Shoes 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Joshua Haggard's Daughter 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Weavers and Weft 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In Great Waters 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An Open Verdict 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Vixen 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Cloven Foot 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Story of Barbara 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Just as I am 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Asphodel 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mount Royal 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Golden Calf 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Flower and Weed 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Phantom Fortune 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Under the Red Flag 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ishmael 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wyllard's Weird 3 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Lady Brassey:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Voyage in the "Sunbeam" 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sunshine and Storm in the East 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the Trades, the Tropics, and the Roaring Forties 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Bread-Winners 1 v.<br />
+<br />
+Shirley Brooks:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Silver Cord 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sooner or Later 3 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Miss Rhoda Broughton:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cometh up as a Flower 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Not wisely, but too well 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Red as a Rose is She 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tales for Christmas Eve 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nancy 2 v. Joan 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Second Thoughts 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Belinda 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+John Brown:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rab and his Friends, and other Tales 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Eliz. Barrett Browning:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Selection from her Poetry (w. portrait) 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Aurora Leigh 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Robert Browning:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Poetical Works (with portrait) 4 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Bulwer (Lord Lytton):<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pelham (with portrait) 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Eugene Aram 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Paul Clifford 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Zanoni 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Last Days of Pompeii 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Disowned 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ernest Maltravers 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Alice 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Eva, and the Pilgrims of the Rhine 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Devereux 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Godolphin, and Falkland 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rienzi 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Night and Morning 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Last of the Barons 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Athens 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Poems and Ballads of Schiller 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lucretia 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Harold 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">King Arthur 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The new Timon; St Stephen's 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Caxtons 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Novel 4 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What will he do with it? 4 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Dramatic Works 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Strange Story 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Caxtoniana 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Lost Tales of Miletus 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Miscellaneous Prose Works 4 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Odes and Epodes of Horace 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Kenelm Chillingly 4 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Coming Race 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Parisians 4 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pausanias 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Henry Lytton Bulwer (Lord Dalling):<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Historical Characters 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Life of Henry John Temple, Viscount Palmerston 3 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+John Bunyan:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Pilgrim's Progress 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Buried Alone 1 v.<br />
+<br />
+F. H. Burnett:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through one Administration 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Miss Burney: Evelina 1 v.<br />
+<br />
+Robert Burns:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Poetical Works (w. portrait) 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Richard F. Burton:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mecca and Medina 3 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Mrs. B. H. Buxton:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Jennie of 'the Prince's'" 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Won! 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Great Grenfell Gardens 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nell&mdash;on and off the Stage 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From the Wings 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Lord Byron:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Poetical Works (w. portrait) 5 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Cameron:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Across Africa 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Thomas Carlyle:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The French Revolution 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Frederick the Great 13 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oliver Cromwell's Letters and Speeches 4 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Life of Friedrich Schiller 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Alaric Carr:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Treherne's Temptation 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Maria Louisa Charlesworth:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oliver of the Mill 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Chronicles of the Sch&ouml;nberg-Cotta Family," Author of&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Chronicles of the Sch&ouml;nberg-Cotta Family 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Draytons and the Davenants 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On Both Sides of the Sea 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Winifred Bertram 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Diary of Mrs. Kitty Trevylyan 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Victory of the Vanquished 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Cottage by the Cathedral 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Against the Stream 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Bertram Family 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Conquering and to Conquer 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lapsed, but not Lost 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Frances Power Cobbe:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Re-Echoes 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Coleridge:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Poems 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+C. R. Coleridge:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An English Squire 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Chas. A. Collins:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Cruise upon Wheels 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Mortimer Collins:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sweet and Twenty 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Fight with Fortune 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Wilkie Collins:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">After Dark 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hide and Seek 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Plot in Private Life 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Woman in White 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Basil 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No Name 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Dead Secret 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Antonina 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Armadale 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Moonstone 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Man and Wife 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Poor Miss Finch 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Miss or Mrs.? 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The New Magdalen 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Frozen Deep 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Law and the Lady 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Two Destinies 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Lady's Money &amp; Percy and the Prophet 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Haunted Hotel 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fallen Leaves 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Jezebel's Daughter 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Black Robe 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Heart and Science 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"I say no" 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Cometh up as a Flower," Author of&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>vide</i> Broughton.</span><br />
+<br />
+Hugh Conway:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Called Back 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bound Together 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dark Days 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Family Affair 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Fenimore Cooper:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Spy (w. portrait) 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The two Admirals 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Jack O'Lantern 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+George L. Craik:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Manual of English Literature &amp; Language 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Mrs. Craik (Miss Mulock):<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">John Halifax, Gentleman 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Head of the Family 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Life for a Life 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Woman's Thoughts about Women 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Agatha's Husband 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Romantic Tales 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Domestic Stories 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mistress and Maid 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Ogilvies 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lord Erlistoun 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Christian's Mistake 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bread upon the Waters 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Noble Life 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Olive 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Two Marriages 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Studies from Life 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Poems 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Woman's Kingdom 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Unkind Word 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Brave Lady 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hannah 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fair France 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Mother and I 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Little Lame Prince 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sermons out of Church 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Laurel Bush 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Legacy 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Young Mrs. Jardine 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His Little Mother 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Plain Speaking 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Miss Tommy 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Miss Georgiana Craik:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lost and Won 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Faith Unwin's Ordeal 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Leslie Tyrrell 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Winifred's Wooing, and other Tales 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mildred 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Esther Hill's Secret 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hero Trevelyan 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Without Kith or Kin 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Only a Butterfly 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sylvia's Choice; Theresa 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Anne Warwick 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Two Tales of Married Life 2 v. (Vol. I. Hard to Bear, Vol. II. <i>vide</i> M. C. Stirling.)</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dorcas 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Two Women 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Mrs. A. Craven:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Eliane. Translated by Lady Fullerton 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+F. Marion Crawford:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mr. Isaacs 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Doctor Claudius 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To Leeward 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Roman Singer 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An American Politician 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Zoroaster 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+J. W. Cross:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>vide</i> George Eliot's Life.</span><br />
+<br />
+Miss Cummins:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Lamplighter 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mabel Vaughan 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">El Fureid&icirc;s 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Haunted Hearts 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Daily News,"<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">War Correspondence 1877 by A. Forbes, etc. 3 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+De-Foe:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Robinson Crusoe 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Democracy.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An American Novel 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Charles Dickens:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club (w. portrait) 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">American Notes 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oliver Twist 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sketches 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Life and Adventures of Martin Chuzzlewit 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Christmas Carol; the Chimes; the Cricket on the Hearth 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Master Humphrey's Clock (Old Curiosity Shop, Barnaby Rudge, and other Tales) 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pictures from Italy 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Battle of Life; the Haunted Man 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dombey and Son 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">David Copperfield 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bleak House 4 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Child's History of England (2 v. 8&deg; M. 2,70.)</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hard Times 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Little Dorrit 4 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Tale of two Cities 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hunted Down; The Uncommercial Traveller 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Great Expectations 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Christmas Stories 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our Mutual Friend 4 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Somebody's Luggage; Mrs. Lirriper's Lodgings; Mrs. Lirriper's Legacy 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Doctor Marigold's Prescriptions; Mugby Junction 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No Thoroughfare 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Mystery of Edwin Drood 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Mudfog Papers 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Vide</i> Household Words, Novels and Tales, and John Forster.</span><br />
+<br />
+Charles Dickens:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Letters of Charles Dickens edited by his Sister-in-law and his eldest Daughter 4 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+B. Disraeli (Lord Beaconsfield):<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Coningsby 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sybil 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Contarini Fleming (w. portrait) 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Alroy 1 v. Tancred 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Venetia 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Vivian Grey 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Henrietta Temple 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lothair 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Endymion 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+W. Hepworth Dixon:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Personal History of Lord Bacon 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Holy Land 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">New America 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Spiritual Wives 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her Majesty's Tower 4 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Free Russia 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">History of two Queens 6 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">White Conquest 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Diana, Lady Lyle 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Earl and the Doctor:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">South Sea Bubbles 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Mrs. Edwardes:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Archie Lovell 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Steven Lawrence, Yeoman 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ought we to Visit her? 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Vagabond Heroine 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Leah: A Woman of Fashion 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Blue-Stocking 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Jet: Her Face or Her Fortune? 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Vivian the Beauty 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Ballroom Repentance 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Girton Girl 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Miss Amelia B. Edwards:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Barbara's History 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Miss Carew 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hand and Glove 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Half a Million of Money 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Debenham's Vow 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the Days of my Youth 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Untrodden Peaks and unfrequented Valleys 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Monsieur Maurice 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Black Forest 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Poetry-Book of Elder Poets 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Thousand Miles up the Nile 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Poetry-Book of Modern Poets 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lord Brackenbury 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Miss M. Betham-Edwards:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Sylvestres 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Felicia 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Brother Gabriel 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Forestalled 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Exchange no Robbery 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Disarmed 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Doctor Jacob 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pearla 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Barbara Elbon:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bethesda 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+George Eliot:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Scenes of Clerical Life 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Adam Bede 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Mill on the Floss 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Silas Marner 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Romola 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Felix Holt 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Daniel Deronda 4 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Lifted Veil and Brother Jacob 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Impressions of Theophrastus Such 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Essays 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+George Eliot's Life as related in her Letters and Journals. Arranged and ed. by her Husband J. W. Cross 4 v.<br />
+<br />
+Mrs. Elliot:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Diary of an Idle Woman in Italy 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Old Court Life in France 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Italians 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Diary of an Idle Woman in Sicily 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pictures of Old Rome 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Diary of an Idle Woman in Spain 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Red Cardinal 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Essays and Reviews 1 v.<br />
+<br />
+Estelle Russell 2 v.<br />
+<br />
+Expiated 2 v.<br />
+<br />
+G. M. Fenn:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Parson o' Dumford 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Clerk of Portwick 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Fielding:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The History of Tom Jones 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Five Centuries of the English Language and Literature 1 v.<br />
+<br />
+George Fleming:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Kismet 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Andromeda 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+A. Forbes:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Experiences of the War between France and Germany 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Soldiering and Scribbling 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">See also "Daily News," War Correspondence.</span><br />
+<br />
+Mrs. Forrester:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Viva 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rhona 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Roy and Viola 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Lord and My Lady 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I have Lived and Loved 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">June 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Omnia Vanitas 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Although he was a Lord, etc. 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Corisande, etc. 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+John Forster:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Life of Charles Dickens 6 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Life and Times of Oliver Goldsmith 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Jessie Fothergill:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The First Violin 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Probation 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Made or Marred and "One of Three" 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Kith and Kin 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Peril 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Found Dead," Author of&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>vide</i> James Payn.</span><br />
+<br />
+Caroline Fox:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Memories of Old Friends from her Journals, edited by Horace N. Pym 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Frank Fairlegh 2 v.<br />
+<br />
+E. A. Freeman:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Growth of the English Constitution 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Select Historical Essays 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Lady G. Fullerton:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ellen Middleton 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Grantley Manor 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lady-Bird 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Too Strange not to be True 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Constance Sherwood 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A stormy Life 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mrs. Gerald's Niece 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Notary's Daughter 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Lilies of the Valley 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Countess de Bonneval 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rose Leblanc 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seven Stories 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Life of Luisa de Carvajal 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Will and a Way 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Eliane 2 v. (<i>vide</i> Craven).</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Laurentia 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Mrs. Gaskell:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mary Barton 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ruth 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">North and South 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lizzie Leigh 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Life of Charlotte Bront&euml; 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lois the Witch 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sylvia's Lovers 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Dark Night's Work 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wives and Daughters 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cranford 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cousin Phillis, and other Tales 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Geraldine Hawthorne <i>vide</i> "Miss Molly."<br />
+<br />
+Agnes Giberne:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Curate's Home 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Right Hon. W. E. Gladstone:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rome and the newest Fashions in Religion 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bulgarian Horrors: Russia in Turkistan 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Hellenic Factor in the Eastern Problem 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Goldsmith:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Select Works: The Vicar of Wakefield; Poems; Dramas (w. portrait) 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Major-Gen. C. G. Gordon's Journals, at Kartoum. Introduction and Notes by A. E. Hake (with eighteen Illustrations) 2 v.<br />
+<br />
+Mrs. Gore:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Castles in the Air 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Dean's Daughter 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Progress and Prejudice 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mammon 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Life's Lessons 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The two Aristocracies 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Heckington 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Miss Grant:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Victor Lescar 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Sun-Maid 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Heart's in the Highlands 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Artiste 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Prince Hugo 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cara Roma 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+W. A. Baillie Grohman:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tyrol and the Tyrolese 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Guy Livingstone," Author of&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Guy Livingstone 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sword and Gown 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Barren Honour 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Border and Bastille 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Maurice Dering 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sans Merci 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Breaking a Butterfly 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Anteros 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hagarene 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+J. Habberton:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Helen's Babies &amp; Other People's Children 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Bowsham Puzzle 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">One Tramp; Mrs. Mayburn's Twins 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Hake: <i>v</i>. Gordon's Journals.<br />
+<br />
+Mrs. S. C. Hall:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Can Wrong be Right? 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Marian 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Thomas Hardy:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Hand of Ethelberta 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Far from the Madding Crowd 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Return of the Native 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Trumpet-Major 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Laodicean 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Two on a Tower 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Pair of Blue Eyes 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Agnes Harrison:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Martin's Vineyard 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Bret Harte:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Prose and Poetry (Tales of the Argonauts; Spanish and American Legends; Condensed Novels; Civic and Character Sketches; Poems) 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Idyls of the Foothills 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gabriel Conroy 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Two Men of Sandy Bar 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thankful Blossom 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Story of a Mine 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Drift from Two Shores 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An Heiress of Red Dog 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Twins of Table Mountain, etc. 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Jeff Briggs's Love Story, etc. 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Flip, etc. 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On the Frontier 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By Shore and Sedge 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Maruja 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Sir H. Havelock, by the Rev. W. Brock, 1 v.<br />
+<br />
+N. Hawthorne:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Scarlet Letter 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Transformation 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Passages from the English Note-Books 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Heir of Redclyffe," Author of&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>vide</i> Yonge.</span><br />
+<br />
+Sir Arthur Helps:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Friends in Council 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ivan de Biron 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Mrs. Hemans:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Select Poetical Works 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Mrs. Cashel Hoey:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Golden Sorrow 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Out of Court 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Oliver Wendell Holmes:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Professor at the Breakfast-Table 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Poet at the Breakfast-Table 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Household Words conducted by Ch. Dickens. 1851-56. 36 v.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Novels and Tales reprinted from Household Words by Ch. Dickens. 1856-59. 11 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Miss Howard:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">One Summer 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Aunt Serena 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Guenn 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+W. D. Howells:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Foregone Conclusion 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Lady of the Aroostook 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Modern Instance 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Undiscovered Country 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Venetian Life (w. portr.) 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Italian Journeys 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Chance Acquaintance 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their Wedding Journey 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Fearful Responsibility, etc. 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Woman's Reason 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dr. Breen's Practice 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Thos. Hughes:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tom Brown's School Days 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Jean Ingelow:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Off the Skelligs 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Poems 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fated to be Free 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sarah de Berenger 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Don John 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+J. H. Ingram:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>vide</i> E. A. Poe.</span><br />
+<br />
+Washington Irving:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sketch Book (w. portrait) 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Life of Mahomet 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Successors of Mahomet 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oliver Goldsmith 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Chronicles of Wolfert's Roost 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Life of George Washington 5 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Helen Jackson:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ramona 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+G. P. R. James:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Morley Ernstein (w. portrait) 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Forest Days 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The False Heir 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Arabella Stuart 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rose d'Albret 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Arrah Neil 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Agincourt 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Smuggler 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Step-Mother 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beauchamp 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Heidelberg 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Gipsy 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Castle of Ehrenstein 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Darnley 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Russell 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Convict 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sir Theodore Broughton 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Henry James:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The American 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Europeans 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Daisy Miller 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Roderick Hudson 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Madonna of the Future, etc. 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Eugene Pickering, etc. 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Confidence 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Washington Square 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Portrait of a Lady 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Foreign Parts 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">French Poets and Novelists 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Siege of London, etc. 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Portraits of Places 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Little Tour in France 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+J. Cordy Jeaffreson:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Book about Doctors 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Woman in Spite of herself 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Real Lord Byron 3 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Mrs. Jenkin:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Who Breaks&mdash;Pays" 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Skirmishing 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Once and Again 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Two French Marriages 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Within an Ace 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Jupiter's Daughters 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Edward Jenkins:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ginx's Baby; Lord Bantam 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Jennie of 'the Prince's,'" Author of&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>vide</i> Mrs. Buxton.</span><br />
+<br />
+Douglas Jerrold:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The History of St. Giles and St. James 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Men of Character 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+"John Halifax," Author of&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>vide</i> Mrs. Craik.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Johnny Ludlow," Author of&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>vide</i> Mrs. Wood.</span><br />
+<br />
+Johnson:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Lives of the English Poets 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Emily Jolly:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Colonel Dacre 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Joshua Davidson," Author of&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>vide</i> E. Lynn Linton.</span><br />
+<br />
+Miss Kavanagh:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nathalie 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Daisy Burns 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Grace Lee 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rachel Gray 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ad&egrave;le 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Summer and Winter in the Two Sicilies 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seven Years 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">French Women of Letters 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">English Women of Letters 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Queen Mab 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beatrice 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sybil's Second Love 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dora 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Silvia 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bessie 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">John Dorrien 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Two Lilies 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Forget-me-nots 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Annie Keary:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oldbury 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Castle Daly 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Elsa D'Esterre-Keeling:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Three Sisters 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Kempis:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>vide</i> Thomas a Kempis.</span><br />
+<br />
+R. B. Kimball:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Saint Leger 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Romance of Student Life abroad 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Undercurrents 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was he Successful? 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To-Day in New-York 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+A. W. Kinglake:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Eothen 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Invasion of the Crimea v. 1-10.</span><br />
+<br />
+Charles Kingsley:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yeast 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Westward ho! 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Two Years ago 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hypatia 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Alton Locke 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hereward the Wake 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At Last 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Charles Kingsley:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His Letters and Memories of his Life edited by his Wife 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Henry Kingsley:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ravenshoe 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Austin Elliot 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Recollections of Geoffry Hamlyn 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Hillyars and the Burtons 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Leighton Court 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Valentin 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oakshott Castle 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Reginald Hetherege 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Grange Garden 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+May Laffan:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Flitters, Tatters, and the Counsellor, etc. 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Charles Lamb:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Essays of Elia and Eliana 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Mary Langdon:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ida May 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Last of the Cavaliers," Author of&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Last of the Cavaliers 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Gain of a Loss 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Leaves from the Journal of our Life in the Highlands from 1848 to 1861, 1 v.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">More Leaves from the Journal of a Life in the Highlands from 1862 to 1882, 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Holme Lee:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>vide</i> Miss Parr.</span><br />
+<br />
+S. Le Fanu:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Uncle Silas 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Guy Deverell 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Mark Lemon:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wait for the End 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Loved at Last 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Falkner Lyle 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Leyton Hall 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Golden Fetters 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Charles Lever:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The O'Donoghue 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Knight of Gwynne 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Arthur O'Leary 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Charles O'Malley 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tom Burke of "Ours" 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Jack Hinton 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Daltons 4 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Dodd Family abroad 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Martins of Cro' Martin 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Fortunes of Glencore 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Roland Cashel 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Davenport Dunn 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Con Cregan 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">One of Them 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Maurice Tiernay 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sir Jasper Carew 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Barrington 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Day's Ride: a Life's Romance 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Luttrell of Arran 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tony Butler 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sir Brook Fossbrooke 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Bramleighs of Bishop's Folly 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Rent in a Cloud 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That Boy of Norcott's 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">St. Patrick's Eve; Paul Gosslett's Confessions 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lord Kilgobbin 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+G. H. Lewes:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ranthorpe 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Physiology of Common Life 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On Actors and the Art of Acting 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+E. Lynn Linton:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Joshua Davidson 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Patricia Kemball 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Atonement of Leam Dundas 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The World well Lost 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Under which Lord? 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With a Silken Thread etc. 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Todhunters' at Loanin' Head etc. 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"My Love!" 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Girl of the Period, etc. 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ione 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Laurence W. M. Lockhart:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mine is Thine 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Longfellow:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Poetical Works (w. portrait) 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Divine Comedy of Dante Alighieri 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The New-England Tragedies 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Divine Tragedy 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Three Books of Song 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Masque of Pandora 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+M. Lonsdale:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sister Dora 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+A Lost Battle 2 v.<br />
+<br />
+Lutfullah:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Autobiography of Lutfullah, by Eastwick 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Lord Lytton:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>vide</i> Bulwer.</span><br />
+<br />
+Robert Lord Lytton (Owen Meredith):<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Poems 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fables in Song 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Lord Macaulay:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">History of England (w. portrait) 10 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Critical and Historical Essays 5 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lays of Ancient Rome 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Speeches 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Biographical Essays 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">William Pitt, Atterbury 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(See also Trevelyan).</span><br />
+<br />
+Justin M<sup>c</sup>Carthy:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Waterdale Neighbours 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lady Disdain 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Miss Misanthrope 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A History of our own Times 5 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Donna Quixote 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A short History of our own Times 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A History of the Four Georges vol. 1.</span><br />
+<br />
+George MacDonald:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Alec Forbes of Howglen 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Annals of a Quiet Neighbourhood 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">David Elginbrod 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Vicar's Daughter 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Malcolm 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">St. George and St. Michael 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Marquis of Lossie 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sir Gibbie 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mary Marston 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Gifts of the Child Christ, etc. 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Princess and Curdie 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Mrs. Mackarness:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sunbeam Stories 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Peerless Wife 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Mingled Yarn 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Charles McKnight:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Old Fort Duquesne 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Norman Macleod:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The old Lieutenant and his Son 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Mrs. Macquoid:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Patty 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Miriam's Marriage 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pictures across the Channel 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Too Soon 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Story 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Diane 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beside the River 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Faithful Lover 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Mademoiselle Mori," Author of&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mademoiselle Mori 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Denise 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Madame Fontenoy 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On the Edge of the Storm 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Atelier du Lys 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the Olden Time 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Lord Mahon:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>vide</i> Stanhope.</span><br />
+<br />
+E. S. Maine:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Scarscliff Rocks 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Lucas Malet:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Colonel Enderby's Wife 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Lord Malmesbury:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Memoirs of an Ex-Minister 3 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+R. Blachford Mansfield:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Log of the Water Lily 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Mark Twain:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Adventures of Tom Sawyer 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Innocents Abroad; or, the New Pilgrims' Progress 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Tramp Abroad 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Roughing it" 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Innocents at Home 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Prince and the Pauper 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Stolen White Elephant, etc. 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Life on the Mississippi 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sketches 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Huckleberry Finn 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Marmorne 1 v.<br />
+<br />
+Capt. Marryat:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Jacob Faithful (w. portrait) 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Percival Keene 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Peter Simple 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Japhet 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Monsieur Violet 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Settlers 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Mission 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Privateer's-Man 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Children of the New-Forest 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Valerie 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mr. Midshipman Easy 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The King's Own 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Florence Marryat:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Love's Conflict 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For Ever and Ever 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Confessions of Gerald Estcourt 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nelly Brooke 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">V&eacute;ronique 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Petronel 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her Lord and Master 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Prey of the Gods 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Life of Captain Marryat 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mad Dumaresq 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No Intentions 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fighting the Air 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Star and a Heart 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Poison of Asps 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Lucky Disappointment 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My own Child 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her Father's Name 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Harvest of Wild Oats 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Little Stepson 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Written in Fire 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her World against a Lie 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Broken Blossom 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Root of all Evil 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Fair-haired Alda 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With Cupid's Eyes 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Sister the Actress 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Phyllida 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How They Loved Him 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Facing the Footlights (w. portrait) 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Moment of Madness 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Ghost of Charlotte Cray, etc. 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Peeress and Player 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Under the Lilies and Roses 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Heart of Jane Warner 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Heir Presumptive 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Mrs. Marsh:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ravenscliffe 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Emilia Wyndham 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Castle Avon 2 v. Aubrey 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Heiress of Haughton 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Evelyn Marston 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Rose of Ashurst 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Emma Marshall:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mrs. Mainwaring's Journal 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Benvenuta 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lady Alice 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dayspring 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Life's Aftermath 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the East Country 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+H. Mathers:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Cherry Ripe!" 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Land o' the Leal" 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Lady Green Sleeves 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As he comes up the Stair, etc. 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sam's Sweetheart 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Eyre's Acquittal 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Found Out 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Murder or Manslaughter? 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Mehalah," Author of&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mehalah 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">John Herring 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Whyte Melville:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Kate Coventry 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Holmby House 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Digby Grand 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Good for Nothing 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Queen's Maries 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Gladiators 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Brookes of Bridlemere 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cerise 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Interpreter 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The White Rose 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">M. or N. 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Contraband; or A Losing Hazard 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sarchedon 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Uncle John 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Katerfelto 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sister Louise 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rosine 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Roy's Wife 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Black but Comely 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Riding Recollections 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+George Meredith:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Ordeal of Feverel 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beauchamp's Career 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Tragic Comedians 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Owen Meredith:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>vide</i> Robert Lord Lytton.</span><br />
+<br />
+Milton:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Poetical Works 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Miss Molly," Author of&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Geraldine Hawthorne 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Molly Bawn," Author of&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Molly Bawn 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mrs. Geoffrey 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Faith and Unfaith 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Portia 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lo&yuml;s, Lord Berresford, etc. 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her First Appearance, etc. 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Phyllis 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rossmoyne 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Doris 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Maiden all Forlorn, etc. 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Passive Crime 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Miss Florence Montgomery:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Misunderstood 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thrown Together 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thwarted 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wild Mike 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seaforth 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Blue Veil 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Moore:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Poetical Works (w. portrait) 5 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Lady Morgan's Memoirs 3 v.<br />
+<br />
+Henry Morley:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of English Literature in the Reign of Victoria. With Facsimiles of the Signatures of Authors in the Tauchnitz Edition [v. 2000].</span><br />
+<br />
+E. C. Grenville: Murray:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Member for Paris 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Young Brown 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Boudoir Cabal 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">French Pictures in English Chalk (1st Series) 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Russians of To-day 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">French Pictures in English Chalk (2nd Series) 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Strange Tales 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That Artful Vicar 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Six Months in the Ranks 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">People I have met 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+"My little Lady," Author of&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>vide</i> E. Frances Poynter.</span><br />
+<br />
+New Testament [v. 1000].<br />
+<br />
+Mrs. Newby:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Common Sense 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Dr. J. H. Newman:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Callista 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Nina Balatka," Author of&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>vide</i> Anthony Trollope.</span><br />
+<br />
+"No Church," Author of&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No Church 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Owen:&mdash;a Waif 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Lady Augusta Noel:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From Generation to Generation 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Hon. Mrs. Norton:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Stuart of Dunleath 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lost and Saved 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Old Sir Douglas 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Novels and Tales<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>vide</i> Household Words.</span><br />
+<br />
+Not Easily Jealous 2 v.<br />
+<br />
+L. Oliphant:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Altiora Peto 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Mrs. Oliphant:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Passages in the Life of Mrs. Margaret Maitland of Sunnyside 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Last of the Mortimers 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Agnes 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Madonna Mary 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Minister's Wife 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Rector, and the Doctor's Family 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Salem Chapel 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Perpetual Curate 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Miss Marjoribanks 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ombra 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Memoir of Count de Montalembert 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">May 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Innocent 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For Love and Life 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Rose in June 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Story of Valentine and his Brother 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whiteladies 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Curate in Charge 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Phoebe, Junior 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mrs. Arthur 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Carit&agrave; 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Young Musgrave 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Primrose Path 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Within the Precincts 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The greatest Heiress in England 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He that will not when he may 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Harry Joscelyn 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In Trust 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It was a Lover and his Lass 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Ladies Lindores 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hester 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Wizard's Son 3 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Ossian:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Poems 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Ouida:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Idalia 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tricotrin 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Puck 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Chandos 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Strathmore 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Under two Flags 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Folle-Farine 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Leaf in the Storm; A Dog of Flanders and other Stories 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cecil Castlemaine's Gage 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Madame la Marquise 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pascar&egrave;l 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Held in Bondage 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Two little Wooden Shoes 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Signa (w. portrait) 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In a Winter City 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ariadn&ecirc; 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Friendship 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Moths 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pipistrello 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Village Commune 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In Maremma 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bimbi 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wanda 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Frescoes, etc. 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Princess Napraxine 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Rainy June (60 Pf.). Othmar 3 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Miss Parr (Holme Lee):<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Basil Godfrey's Caprice 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For Richer, for Poorer 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Beautiful Miss Barrington 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her Title of Honour 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Echoes of a Famous Year 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Katherine's Trial 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bessie Fairfax 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ben Milner's Wooing 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Straightforward 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mrs. Denys of Cote 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Poor Squire 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Mrs. Parr:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dorothy Fox 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Prescotts of Pamphillon 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gosau Smithy 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Robin 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Paul Ferroll," Author of&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Paul Ferroll 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Year after Year 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Why Paul Ferroll killed his Wife 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+James Payn:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Found Dead 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gwendoline's Harvest 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like Father, like Son 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Not Wooed, but Won 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cecil's Tryst 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Woman's Vengeance 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Murphy's Master 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the Heart of a Hill 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At Her Mercy 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Best of Husbands 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Walter's Word 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Halves 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fallen Fortunes 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What He cost Her 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By Proxy 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Less Black than we're Painted 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Under one Roof 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">High Spirits 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">High Spirits (Second Series) 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Confidential Agent 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From Exile 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Grape from a Thorn 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some Private Views 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For Cash Only 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Kit: A Memory 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Canon's Ward 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some Literary Recollections 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Talk of the Town 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Luck of the Darrells 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Miss Fr. M. Peard:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">One Year 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Rose-Garden 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Unawares 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thorpe Regis 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Winter Story 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Madrigal 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cartouche 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mother Molly 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Schloss and Town 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Contradictions 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Near Neighbours 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Bishop Percy:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Reliques of Ancient English Poetry 3 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+E. A. Poe:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Poems and Essays. Edited with a new Memoir by John H. Ingram 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tales. Edited by John H. Ingram 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Pope:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Select Poetical Works (w. portrait) 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+E. Frances Poynter:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My little Lady 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ersilia 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Among the Hills 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Madame de Presnel 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Mrs. Campbell Praed:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Z&eacute;ro 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Affinities 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Mrs. E. Prentiss:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Stepping Heavenward 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Prince Consort's Speeches and Addresses 1 v.<br />
+<br />
+Horace N. Pym:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>vide</i> C. Fox.</span><br />
+<br />
+W. F. Rae:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Westward by Rail 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Charles Reade:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"It is never too late to mend" 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Love me little love me long" 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Cloister and the Hearth 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hard Cash 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Put Yourself in his Place 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Terrible Temptation 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Peg Woffington 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Christie Johnstone 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Simpleton 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Wandering Heir 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Woman-Hater 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Readiana 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Singleheart and Doubleface 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Recommended to Mercy," Author of&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Recommended to Mercy 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Zoe's 'Brand' 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+James Rice:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>vide</i> W. Besant.</span><br />
+<br />
+Alfred Bate Richards:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So very Human 3 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Richardson:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Clarissa Harlowe 4 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Mrs. Riddell (F. G. Trafford):<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">George Geith of Fen Court 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Maxwell Drewitt 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Race for Wealth 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Far above Rubies 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Earl's Promise 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mortomley's Estate 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Rev. W. Robertson:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sermons 4 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Charles H. Ross:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Pretty Widow 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A London Romance 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Dante Gabriel Rossetti:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Poems 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ballads and Sonnets 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+J. Ruffini:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lavinia 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Doctor Antonio 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lorenzo Benoni 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Vincenzo 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Quiet Nook 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Paragreens on a Visit to Paris 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Carlino and other Stories 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+W. Clark Russell:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Sailor's Sweetheart 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The "Lady Maud" 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Sea Queen 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+G. A. Sala:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Seven Sons of Mammon 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+John Saunders:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Israel Mort, Overman 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Shipowner's Daughter 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Noble Wife 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Katherine Saunders:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Joan Merryweather and other Tales 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gideon's Rock 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The High Mills 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sebastian 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Sir Walter Scott:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Waverley (w. portrait) 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Antiquary 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ivanhoe 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Kenilworth 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Quentin Durward 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Old Mortality 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Guy Mannering 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rob Roy 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Pirate 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Fortunes of Nigel 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Black Dwarf;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Legend of Montrose 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Bride of Lammermoor 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Heart of Mid-Lothian 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Monastery 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Abbot 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Peveril of the Peak 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Poetical Works 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Woodstock 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Fair Maid of Perth 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Anne of Geierstein 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Professor Seeley:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Life and Times of Stein 4 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Expansion of England 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Miss Sewell:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Amy Herbert 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ursula 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Glimpse of the World 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Journal of a Home Life 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">After Life 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Experience of Life; or, Aunt Sarah 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Shakespeare:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Plays and Poems (with portrait) (<i>Second Edition</i>) compl. 7 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Shakespeare's</i> Plays may also be had in 37 numbers, at M. 0,30. each number.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Doubtful Plays 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Shelley:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Selection from his Poems 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Nathan Sheppard:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shut up in Paris (<i>Second Edition, enlarged</i>) 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Sheridan:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dramatic Works 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+J. Henry Shorthouse:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">John Inglesant 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Smollett:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Adventures of Roderick Random 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Expedition of Humphry Clinker 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Adventures of Peregrine Pickle 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Society in London. By a Foreign Resident 1 v.<br />
+<br />
+Earl Stanhope (Lord Mahon):<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">History of England 7 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Reign of Queen Anne 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Sterne:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Sentimental Journey (w. portrait) 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Robert Louis Stevenson:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Treasure Island 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Still Waters," Author of&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Still Waters 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dorothy 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">De Cressy 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Uncle Ralph 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Maiden Sisters 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Martha Brown 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Vanessa 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+M. C. Stirling:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Two Tales of Married Life 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Vol. II, A True Man,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Vol. I. <i>vide</i> G. M. Craik.</span><br />
+<br />
+"The Story of Elizabeth," Author of&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>v</i>. Miss Thackeray.</span><br />
+<br />
+Mrs. H. Beecher Stowe:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Uncle Tom's Cabin (w. portrait) 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Key to Uncle Tom's Cabin 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dred 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Minister's Wooing 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oldtown Folks 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Sunbeam Stories," Author of&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>vide</i> Mackarness.</span><br />
+<br />
+Swift:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gulliver's Travels 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+J. A. Symonds:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sketches in Italy 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">New Italian Sketches 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Baroness Tautphoeus:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cyrilla 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Initials 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Quits 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At Odds 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Colonel Meadows Taylor:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tara: a Mahratta Tale 3 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Templeton:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Diary &amp; Notes 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Lord Tennyson:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Poetical Works 7 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Queen Mary 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Harold 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ballads and other Poems 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Becket; The Cup; The Falcon 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+W. M. Thackeray:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Vanity Fair 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The History of Pendennis 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Miscellanies 8 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The History of Henry Esmond 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The English Humourists 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Newcomes 4 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Virginians 4 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Four Georges;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lovel the Widower 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Adventures of Philip 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Denis Duval 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Roundabout Papers 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Catherine 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Irish Sketch Book 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Paris Sketch Book (w. portrait) 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Miss Thackeray:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Story of Elizabeth 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Village on the Cliff 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Old Kensington 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bluebeard's Keys 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Five Old Friends 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Miss Angel 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Out of the World 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fulham Lawn 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From an Island 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Da Capo 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Madame de S&eacute;vign&eacute; 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Book of Sibyls 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Thomas a Kempis:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Imitation of Christ 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+A. Thomas:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Denis Donne 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On Guard 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Walter Goring 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Played out 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Called to Account 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Only Herself 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A narrow Escape 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Thomson:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Poetical Works (with portrait) 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+F. G. Trafford:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>vide</i> Mrs. Riddell.</span><br />
+<br />
+G. O. Trevelyan:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Life and Letters of Lord Macaulay (w. portrait) 4 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Selections from the Writings of Lord Macaulay 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Trois-Etoiles:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>vide</i> Murray.</span><br />
+<br />
+Anthony Trollope:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Doctor Thorne 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Bertrams 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Warden 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Barchester Towers 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Castle Richmond 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The West Indies 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Framley Parsonage 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">North America 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Orley Farm 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rachel Ray 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Small House at Allington 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Can you forgive her? 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Belton Estate 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nina Balatka 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Last Chronicle of Barset 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Claverings 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Phineas Finn 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He knew he was Right 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Vicar of Bullhampton 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sir Harry Hotspur of Humblethwaite 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ralph the Heir 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Golden Lion of Granpere 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Australia and New Zealand 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lady Anna 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Harry Heathcote of Gangoil 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Way we live now 4 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Prime Minister 4 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The American Senator 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">South Africa 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is he Popenjoy? 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An Eye for an Eye 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">John Caldigate 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cousin Henry 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Duke's Children 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dr. Wortle's School 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ayala's Angel 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Fixed Period 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Marion Fay 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Kept in the Dark 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Frau Frohmann, etc. 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Alice Dugdale, etc. 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">La M&egrave;re Bauche, etc. 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Mistletoe Bough, etc. 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An Autobiography 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An Old Man's Love 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+T. Adolphus Trollope:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Garstangs of Garstang Grange 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Siren 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Two Cosmos 1 v.<br />
+<br />
+"V&egrave;ra," Author of&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">V&egrave;ra 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The H&ocirc;tel du Petit St. Jean 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Blue Roses 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Within Sound of the Sea 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Maritime Alps and their Seaboard 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Victoria R. I.:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>vide</i> Leaves.</span><br />
+<br />
+Virginia 1 v.<br />
+<br />
+L. B. Walford:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mr. Smith 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pauline 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cousins 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Troublesome Daughters 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Mackenzie Wallace:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Russia 3 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Eliot Warburton:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Crescent and the Cross 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Darien 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+S. Warren:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Passages from the Diary of a late Physician 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ten Thousand a-Year 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now and Then 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Lily and the Bee 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+"Waterdale Neighbours," Author of&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>vide</i> Justin M<sup>c</sup>Carthy.</span><br />
+<br />
+Miss Wetherell:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The wide, wide World 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Queechy 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Hills of the Shatemuc 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Say and Seal 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Old Helmet 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+A Whim and its Consequences 1 v.<br />
+<br />
+W. White: Holidays in Tyrol 1 v.<br />
+<br />
+"Who Breaks&mdash;Pays," Author of&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>vide</i> Mrs. Jenkin.</span><br />
+<br />
+J. S. Winter:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Regimental Legends 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Mrs. Henry Wood:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">East Lynne 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Channings 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Verner's Pride 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Shadow of Ashlydyat 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Trevlyn Hold 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lord Oakburn's Daughters 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oswald Cray 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mildred Arkell 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">St. Martin's Eve 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Elster's Folly 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lady Adelaide's Oath 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Orville College 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Life's Secret 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Red Court Farm 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Anne Hereford 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Roland Yorke 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">George Canterbury's Will 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bessy Rane 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dene Hollow 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Foggy Night at Offord, etc. 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Within the Maze 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Master of Greylands 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Johnny Ludlow (<i>First Series</i>) 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Told in the Twilight 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Adam Grainger 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Edina 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pomeroy Abbey 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lost in the Post, etc. By Johnny Ludlow 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Tale of Sin, etc. By Johnny Ludlow 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Anne, etc. By Johnny Ludlow 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Court Netherleigh 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Mystery of Jessy Page, etc. By Johnny Ludlow 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Helen Whitney's Wedding, etc. By Johnny Ludlow 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Story of Dorothy Grape, etc. By Johnny Ludlow 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Wordsworth:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Select Poetical Works 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Lascelles Wraxall:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wild Oats 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Edm. Yates:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Land at Last 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Broken to Harness 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Forlorn Hope 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Black Sheep 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Rock Ahead 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wrecked in Port 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dr. Wainwright's Patient 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nobody's Fortune 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Castaway 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Waiting Race 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Yellow Flag 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Impending Sword 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Two, by Tricks 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Silent Witness 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Recollections and Experiences 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Miss Yonge:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Heir of Redclyffe 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Heartsease 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Daisy Chain 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dynevor Terrace 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hopes and Fears 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Young Step-Mother 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Trial 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Clever Woman of the Family 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Dove in the Eagle's Nest 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Danvers Papers; the Prince and the Page 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Chaplet of Pearls 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The two Guardians 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Caged Lion 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Pillars of the House 5 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lady Hester 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Young Alcides 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Three Brides 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Womankind 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Magnum Bonum 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Love and Life 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Unknown to History 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Stray Pearls (w. portrait) 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Armourer's Prentices 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The two Sides of the Shield 2 v.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<h4><i>The price of each volume is 1 Mark 60 Pfennige.</i></h4>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Collection of German Authors.</h2>
+
+
+<p>
+B. Auerbach:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On the Heights. Transl. by F. E. Bunnett. Second Authorized Edition, thoroughly revised, 3 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Brigitta. From the German by C. Bell, 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Spinoza. From the German by Nicholson, 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+G. Ebers:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An Egyptian Princess. Translated by E. Grove, 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Uarda. From the German by Bell, 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Homo Sum. From the German by Bell, 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Sisters. From the German by Bell, 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Fouqu&eacute;:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Undine, Sintram, etc. Translated by F. E. Bunnett, 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Ferdinand Freiligrath:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Poems. From the German. Edited by his Daughter. Second Copyright Edition, enlarged, 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+W. G&ouml;rlach:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Prince Bismarck (with Portrait). From the German by Miss M. E. von Glehn, 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Goethe:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Faust. From the German by John Anster, LL.D. 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship. From the German by Eleanor Grove, 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+K. Gutzkow:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through Night to Light. From the German by M. A. Faber, 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+F. W. Hackl&auml;nder:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Behind the Counter [Handel u. Wandel]. From the German by Howitt, 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+W. Hauff:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Three Tales. From the German by M. A. Faber, 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+P. Heyse:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">L'Arrabiata and other Tales. From the German by M. Wilson, 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Dead Lake and other Tales. From the German by Mary Wilson, 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Barbarossa and other Tales. From the German by L. C. S., 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Wilhelmine von Hillern:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Vulture Maiden [die Geier-Wally]. From the German by C. Bell and E. F. Poynter, 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Hour will come. From the German by Clara Bell, 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+S. Kohn:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gabriel. A Story of the Jews in Prague. From the German by A. Milman, M.A., 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+G. E. Lessing:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nathan the Wise and Emilia Galotti. The former transl. by W. Taylor, the latter by Chas. Lee Lewes, 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Fanny Lewald:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Stella. From the German by Beatrice Marshall, 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+E. Marlitt:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Princess of the Moor [das Haideprinzesschen], 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Maria Nathusius:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Joachim von Kamern and Diary of a poor young Lady. From the German by Miss Thompson, 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Fritz Reuter:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the Year '13: Transl. from the Platt-Deutsch by Chas. Lee Lewes, 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An old Story of my Farming Days [Ut mine Stromtid]. From the German by M. W. Macdowall, 3 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Jean Paul Friedr. Richter:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Flower, Fruit and Thorn Pieces: or the Married Life, Death, and Wedding of the Advocate of the Poor, Firmian Stanislaus Siebenk&auml;s. Translated from the German by E. H. Noel, 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+J. V. Scheffel:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ekkehard. A Tale of the tenth Century. Translated from the German by Sofie Delffs, 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+G. Taylor:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Klytia. From the German by Sutton Fraser Corkran, 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+H. Zschokke:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Princess of Brunswick-Wolfenb&uuml;ttel and other Tales. From the German by M. A. Faber, 1 v.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<h4><i>The price of each volume is 1 Mark 60 Pfennige.</i></h4>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Series for the Young.&mdash;<i>Each volume 1 Mark 60 Pf</i>.</h2>
+
+
+<p>
+Lady Barker:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Stories About. With Frontispiece, 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Louisa Charlesworth:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ministering Children. With Frontispiece, 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Mrs. Craik (Miss Mulock):<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our Year. Illustrated by C. Dobell, 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Three Tales for Boys. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Three Tales for Girls. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Miss G. M. Craik:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cousin Trix. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Maria Edgeworth:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Moral Tales. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Popular Tales. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 2 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Bridget &amp; Julia Kavanagh:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Pearl Fountain. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Charles and Mary Lamb:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tales from Shakspeare. With the Portrait of Shakspeare, 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Emma Marshall:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rex and Regina; or, The Song of the River. With six Illustrations, 1 vol.</span><br />
+<br />
+Captain Marryat:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Masterman Ready; or, the Wreck of the Pacific. With Frontispiece, 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Florence Montgomery:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Town-Crier; to which is added: The Children with the Indian-Rubber Ball, 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Ruth and her Friends.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Story for Girls. With Frontispiece, 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Mrs. Henry Wood:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">William Allair; or, Running away to Sea. Frontispiece from a Drawing by F. Gilbert, 1 v.</span><br />
+<br />
+Miss Yonge:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Kenneth; or, the Rear-Guard of the Grand Army. With Frontispiece, 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Little Duke. Ben Sylvester's Word. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Stokesley Secret. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Countess Kate. With Frontispiece, 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Book of Golden Deeds. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 2 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Friarswood Post-Office. With Frontispiece, 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Henrietta's Wish; or, Domineering. A Tale. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Kings of England: A History for the Young. With Frontispiece, 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Lances of Lynwood; the Pigeon Pie. With Frontispiece, 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">P's and Q's. With Frontispiece, 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Aunt Charlotte's Stories of English History. With Frontispiece, 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bye-Words. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lads and Lasses of Langley; Sowing and Sewing. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Tauchnitz Manuals of Conversation.</h2>
+
+<h4><i>Each bound M 2,25.</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>
+Neues Handbuch der <i>Englischen</i> Conversationssprache von <i>A. Schlessing</i>.<br />
+<br />
+A new Manual of the <i>German</i> Language of Conversation by <i>A. Schlessing</i>.<br />
+<br />
+Neues Handbuch der <i>Franz&ouml;sischen</i> Conversationssprache von <i>L. Rollin</i>.<br />
+<br />
+Nouveau Manuel de la Conversation <i>Allemande</i> par MM. <i>L. Rollin</i> et <i>Wolfgang Weber</i>.<br />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Tauchnitz Dictionaries.</h2>
+
+
+<p>A complete Dictionary of the English and German languages
+for general use. By <i>W. James</i>. Thirtieth Stereotype Edition.
+crown 8vo sewed Mark 4,50.</p>
+
+<p>A complete Dictionary of the English and French languages
+for general use. By <i>W. James</i> and <i>A. Mol&eacute;</i>. Thirteenth
+Stereotype Edition. crown 8vo sewed Mark 6,00.</p>
+
+<p>A complete Dictionary of the English and Italian languages
+for general use. By <i>W. James</i> and <i>Gius. Grassi</i>. Ninth
+Stereotype Edition. crown 8vo sewed Mark 5,00.</p>
+
+<p>A New Pocket Dictionary of the English and German
+languages. By <i>J. E. Wessely</i>. Twelfth Stereotype Edition.
+16mo sewed Mark 1,50. bound Mark 2,25.</p>
+
+<p>A New Pocket Dictionary of the English and French
+languages. By <i>J. E. Wessely</i>. Twelfth Stereotype Edition.
+16mo sewed Mark 1,50. bound Mark 2,25.</p>
+
+<p>A New Pocket Dictionary of the English and Italian
+languages. By <i>J. E. Wessely</i>. Tenth Stereotype Edition.
+16mo sewed Mark 1,50. bound Mark 2,25.</p>
+
+<p>A New Pocket Dictionary of the English and Spanish
+languages. By <i>J. E. Wessely</i> and <i>A. Giron&eacute;s</i>. Ninth Stereotype
+Edition. 16mo sewed Mark 1,50. bound Mark 2,25.</p>
+
+<p>A New Pocket Dictionary of the French and German
+languages. By <i>J. E. Wessely</i>. Third Stereotype Edition.
+16mo sewed Mark 1,50. bound Mark 2,25.</p>
+
+<p>A New Pocket Dictionary of the Italian and German
+languages. By <i>G. Locella</i>. Third Stereotype Edition. 16mo
+sewed Mark 1,50. bound Mark 2,25.</p>
+
+<p>A New Dictionary of the Latin and English languages.
+Fifth Stereot. Ed. 16mo sewed Mark 1,50. bound Mark 2,25.</p>
+
+<p>A New Pocket Dictionary of the French and Spanish
+languages. By <i>L. Tolhausen</i>. Stereotype Edition. 16mo sewed
+Mark 1,50. bound Mark 2,25.</p>
+
+<p>Technological Dictionary in the French, English and
+German languages by <i>A.</i> and <i>L. Tolhausen</i>. Complete in three
+Parts, crown 8vo sewed Mark 26,50. Each Part separately:
+<i>French</i>, <i>German</i>, <i>English</i> [Third Edition, with a grand Supplement]
+Mark 9,50. (Grand Supplement separate Mark 1,50.)
+<i>English</i>, <i>German</i>, <i>French</i> [Third Edition, with a grand Supplement]
+Mark 9,00. (Grand Supplement separate Mark 1,00.)
+<i>German</i>, <i>English</i>, <i>French</i> [Second Edition] Mark 8,00.</p>
+
+<p>A Hebrew and Chaldee Lexicon to the Old Testament.
+By Dr. <i>Julius F&uuml;rst</i>. Fifth Edition. Translated from the
+German by <i>Samuel Davidson</i>. Royal 8vo sewed Mark 19,00.</p>
+
+<p>No orders of private purchasers are executed by the publisher.</p>
+
+
+<h4>BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ, LEIPZIG.</h4>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>January 1886.</h2>
+
+<h1>Tauchnitz Edition.</h1>
+<hr style="width: 15%;" />
+
+<h3>Forthcoming Volumes:</h3>
+
+
+<p>A new Novel. By Rhoda Broughton, Author of "Cometh
+up as a Flower."</p>
+
+<p>Don Gesualdo. A new Story. By Ouida.</p>
+
+<p>Green Pleasure and Grey Grief. A new Novel. By the
+Author of "Molly Bawn."</p>
+
+<p>Rainbow Gold. A new Novel. By D. Christie Murray.</p>
+
+<p>White Heather. A new Novel. By William Black.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dymond. A new Novel. By Miss Thackeray.</p>
+
+<p>A Perilous Life. A new Novel. By Charles Reade.</p>
+
+<p>A new Novel. By Mrs. Oliphant.</p>
+
+<p>The Biography of Lord Lytton. By his Son, the Earl of
+Lytton.</p>
+
+<p>Allerton Towers. A new Novel. By Miss Annie Thomas.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Vandeleur. A new Novel. By John Saunders.</p>
+
+<p>Fortune's Fool. A new Novel. By Julian Hawthorne.</p>
+
+<p>Saint Mungo's City. A new Novel. By Sarah Tytler.</p>
+
+<p>Nuttie's Father. A new Novel. By Miss Yonge, Author of
+"The Heir of Redclyffe."</p>
+
+<p>No. XIII; or, The Story of the Lost Vestal. A new Novel.
+By Emma Marshall.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+<h3>A complete Catalogue of the Tauchnitz Edition is attached to this work.</h3>
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h4>Bernhard Tauchnitz, Leipzig;</h4>
+
+<h5>And sold by all booksellers.</h5>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p><b>Transcriber's Note:</b><br />
+<br />
+Hyphenation, spelling and grammar have been preserved as in
+the original.<br />
+<br />
+Three pages of handwriting at front were not easily read and
+there might be errors in transcription.<br />
+<br />
+Page 72, "Lilyb&aelig;aum" changed to "Lilyb&aelig;um"<br />
+<br />
+Page 149, "Golden, und gleaming" changed to "Golden, and gleaming"<br />
+<br />
+Page 279, "turned aud beheld" changed to "turned and beheld"</p>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SELECTION FROM THE POEMS OF WILLIAM MORRIS***</p>
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Selection from the Poems of William Morris,
+by William Morris, Edited by Francis Hueffer
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: A Selection from the Poems of William Morris
+
+
+Author: William Morris
+
+Editor: Francis Hueffer
+
+Release Date: February 9, 2011  [eBook #35227]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SELECTION FROM THE POEMS OF
+WILLIAM MORRIS***
+
+
+E-text prepared by David T. Jones, Ross Cooling, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Canada Team (http://www.pgdpcanada.net) from page
+images generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries
+(http://www.archive.org/details/americana)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 35227-h.htm or 35227-h.zip:
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/35227/35227-h/35227-h.htm)
+      or
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/35227/35227-h.zip)
+
+
+      Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
+      http://www.archive.org/details/selectionfrompoe00morrrich
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+[Illustration: (hand-written letter)
+
+Franz Hueffer who came into the Rossetti circle in the manner indicated
+in the following letter (of which the greater part is in the writing of
+the late Lucy Rossetti - daughter of Ford Madox Brown) was a
+broad-headed, plodding, able German who wrote and spoke English
+perfectly enough before his naturalization. He was somewhat heavy in his
+enthusiasms; and Gabriel Rossetti laughed at him a good deal. On one
+occasion D.G.R. let off the following "nursery rhyme":--
+
+  There's a fluffy-haired German called Huffer
+  A loud and pragmatical duffer:
+  To stand on a tower
+  And shout "Schopenhauer"
+  Is reckoned his mission by Huffer.
+
+There was no malice in these rhymes of Rossetti's; but even his dear
+friend Morris ("Topsy" as his intimates called him on account of his
+shock of black hair) was not exempt from personal sallies of the
+kind,--as this, when M. got alarmed about his increasing bulk:--
+
+  There was a young person called Topsy
+  Who fancied he suffered from dropsy;
+  He shook like a jelly,
+  Till the Doctor cried "Belly!"--
+  Which angered; but comforted Topsy.
+
+Poor dear Morris! he had cause enough for alarm. Diabetes was only one
+among the agencies by which his stalwart frame was disintegrated at the
+age of 62.
+
+H.B.F.
+
+7 November 1897.]
+
+
+
+[Illustration: (hand-written letter) May 27th/89
+
+5 ENDSLEIGH GARDENS.
+
+N.W.
+
+Dear Forman,
+
+Please excuse a very laconic presentment of the facts. Francis Hueffer,
+Musical Critic of the "Times", author of the libretto of "Columba" of a
+volume on the "Troubadours" of "Half a century of Music in England" etc
+etc, died last Jan 7 aged 43 leaving a widow & three children, & little
+indeed.]
+
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+
+  EACH VOLUME SOLD SEPARATELY.
+
+
+  COLLECTION
+  OF
+  BRITISH AUTHORS
+
+  TAUCHNITZ EDITION.
+
+  VOL. 2378.
+  POEMS BY WILLIAM MORRIS
+  IN ONE VOLUME.
+
+
+  LEIPZIG: BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ
+
+  PARIS: C. REINWALD, 15, RUE DES SAINTS PERES.
+
+  PARIS: THE GALIGNANI LIBRARY, 224, RUE DE RIVOLI, AND AT NICE, 15, QUAI
+    MASSENA.
+
+
+  _This Collection is published with copyright for Continental
+  circulation, but all purchasers are earnestly requested not to introduce
+  the volumes into England or into any British Colony._
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+
+
+COLLECTION OF BRITISH AUTHORS
+
+TAUCHNITZ EDITION.
+
+VOL. 2378.
+
+POEMS BY WILLIAM MORRIS.
+
+IN ONE VOLUME.
+
+
+
+A SELECTION FROM THE POEMS OF WILLIAM MORRIS.
+
+Edited with a Memoir by Francis Hueffer.
+
+Copyright Edition.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Leipzig
+Bernhard Tauchnitz
+1886.
+The Right of Translation is reserved.
+
+
+
+
+MEMOIR
+
+OF
+
+WILLIAM MORRIS.
+
+
+William Morris, poet, decorative designer and socialist, was born in
+1834 at Clay Street, Walthamstow, now almost a suburb of London, at that
+time a country village in Essex. He went to school at Marlborough
+College and thence to Exeter College, Oxford, where he took his degree
+in 1857. During his stay in the University the subsequent mode of his
+life was prepared and foreshadowed in two important directions. Like
+most poets Morris was not what is called very assiduous "at his book";
+the routine of college training was no more an attraction to him than
+the ordinary amusements and dissipations of undergraduate existence. But
+he was studious all the same, reading the classics in his own somewhat
+spasmodic way and exploring with even greater zeal the mysteries of
+mediaeval lore. His fellow-worker in these studies and his most intimate
+friend was and is at the present day Mr. Burne Jones, the famous
+painter, at that time a student of divinity. Artistic and literary
+pursuits thus went hand in hand, and received additional zest when the
+two young men became acquainted with Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Holman Hunt
+and other painters of the Pre-Raphaelite school who came to Oxford to
+execute the frescoes still dimly visible on the ceiling of the Union
+Debating Hall. Of the aims and achievements of the Pre-Raphaelite
+Brotherhood, and of the revival of mediaeval feeling in art and
+literature originally advocated by its members ample account has been
+given in the memoir of Rossetti prefixed to his poems in the Tauchnitz
+edition. Its influence on Morris's early work, both in matter and form,
+will strike every observant reader of the opening ballads of the present
+collection. Later on the poet worked out for himself a distinct and
+individual phase of the mediaeval movement, as will be mentioned by and
+by. At one time little was wanting to make Morris follow his friend
+Burne Jones's example and leave the pen for the brush. There is indeed
+still extant from his hand an unfinished picture evincing a remarkable
+sense of colour. He also for a short time became a pupil of the late Mr.
+G. E. Street, the architect, to whose genius London owes its finest
+modern Gothic building--the Law Courts in the Strand. On second
+thoughts, however, Morris came to the conclusion that poetry was his
+true field of action. His first literary venture was a monthly
+periodical started under his auspices in 1856 and called _The Oxford and
+Cambridge Magazine_. It contained, amongst other contributions from
+Morris's pen, a prose tale of a highly romantic character, and was, as
+regards artistic tendencies, essentially a sequel of _The Germ_, the
+organ of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, begun and continued for three
+numbers only, six years before. Several of the contributors to the
+earlier venture, including Rossetti, also supported its offshoot.
+Neither, however, gained popular favour, and after a year's struggling
+existence _The Oxford and Cambridge Magazine_ also came to an untimely
+end. At present both are eagerly sought for by collectors and fetch high
+prices at antiquarian sales. So changeable is the fate of books.
+
+In 1859 Morris married, after having the year before brought out his
+first volume of verse entitled _The Defence of Guenevere and Other
+Poems_. The book fell dead from the press, and it was not till it was
+republished 25 years later that the world recognised in it some of the
+freshest and most individual efforts of its author, whose literary
+position was by that time established beyond cavil. That position the
+poet owed in the first instance to two works published in rapid
+succession, _The Life and Death of Jason_, and _The Earthly Paradise_,
+the latter a collection of tales in verse filling four stout volumes.
+His remaining original works are _Love is enough_, a "morality" in the
+mediaeval sense of the word, and _The Story of Sigurd the Volsung_, his
+longest and, in the opinion of some, his most perfect epic. In addition
+to these should be mentioned the translations from the old Norse
+undertaken in conjunction with Mr. Magnusson the well-known Icelandic
+scholar, and comprising _The Story of Grettir the Strong_ (1869), _The
+Volsunga Saga, with certain songs from the Elder Edda_ (1870), and
+_Three Northern Love Stories_ (1875); and finally a metrical rendering
+of _The Aeneids of Virgil_.
+
+For a critical discussion or a detailed analysis of Morris's work this
+is not the place. It must be sufficient to indicate briefly the ideas
+which underlie that work and give it its literary _cachet_. Two main
+currents, derivable perhaps from a common source but running in
+different directions can be easily discerned. The subjects of his tales
+are almost without exception derived either from Greek myth or from
+mediaeval folklore. After all that has been said and written of the gulf
+that divides the classic from the romantic feeling--_"Barbaren und
+Hellenen_", as Heine puts it, such a conjunction might appear
+incongruous. But the connecting link has here been found in the poet's
+mind. He looks upon his classical subject-matter through a mediaeval
+atmosphere, in other words he writes about Venus and Cupid and Psyche
+and Medea as a poet of Chaucer's age might have done, barring of course
+the differences of language, although in this respect also it may be
+noted that the archaisms of expression affected by the modern poet
+appear indifferently in the Greek and the mediaeval tales. The phenomenon
+is by no means unique in literature. Let the reader compare Chapman's
+Homer with Pope's, or let him open Morris's _Jason_ where the bells of
+Colchis "melodiously begin to ring", and the meaning of the
+afore-mentioned "mediaeval atmosphere" will at once be as palpable to him
+as it was to Keats when, reading Chapman's rude verse, after Pope's
+polished stanzas, he felt
+
+          like some watcher of the skies
+  When a new planet swims into his ken.
+
+It was the romantic chord of Keats's nature, that chord which vibrates
+in _La belle Dame sans Merci_, which was harmoniously struck and made
+the great master of form overlook the formal imperfection of the
+earlier poet. To the same element such stories as _Jason_, or _The Love
+of Alcestis_ and the _Bellerophon_ in _The Earthly Paradise_ owe their
+charm.
+
+Morris's position towards mediaeval subjects did not at first essentially
+differ from that of other poets of similar tendency. In his first volume
+English and French knights and damsels figure prominently, and the
+beautiful and frail wife of King Arthur is the heroine of the chief poem
+and has given her name to the book. But in the interval which elapsed
+between that volume and the _Earthly Paradise_ a considerable change had
+come over the poet's dream. By the aid of Mr. Magnusson he had become
+acquainted with the treasure of northern folklore hidden in the
+Icelandic sagas, the two Eddas, the story of the Volsungs (of which a
+masterly translation is due to the two friends), the Laxdaela saga and
+other tales of more or less remote antiquity.
+
+In the _Earthly Paradise_ the double current of the poet's fancy above
+alluded to is most strikingly apparent. The very framework in which the
+various tales are set seems to have been designed with that view. Guided
+probably by a vague tradition of a pre-Columbian discovery of America by
+the Vikings, the prologue relates how during a terrible pestilence
+certain mariners leave their northern home in search of the land where
+old age and death are not and where life is rounded by unbroken
+pleasure. Sailing west they come to a fair country. They gaze on
+southern sunshine and virgin forest and fertile champaign, but death
+meets them at every step, and happiness is farthest from their grasp
+when the people worship them as gods and sacrifice at their shrine.
+Escaping from this golden thraldom they regain their ship, and after
+many dangers and privations are driven by the wind to an island
+inhabited by descendants of the ancient Greeks, who have preserved their
+old worship and their old freedom. Here the weary wanderers of the main
+are hospitably received, and here they resolve to dwell in peace,
+forgetful of their vain search for the earthly paradise. At the
+beginning and the middle of every month the elders of the people and
+their guests meet together to while away the time with song and friendly
+converse. The islanders relate the traditions of their Grecian home, the
+mariners relate the sagas of the North, and Laurence, a Swabian priest
+who had joined the Norsemen in their quest, contributes the legends of
+Tannhaeuser and of the ring given to Venus by the Roman youth. Here then
+there is full scope for the quaint beauty of romantic classicism and for
+the weird glamour of northern myth. Without encroaching upon the field
+of criticism proper the writer may state that, in his opinion, amongst
+the classic tales none is more graceful and finished than "The Golden
+Apples", and amongst the northern none more grandly developed and more
+epical in the strict sense of the word than _The Lovers of Gudrun_ based
+upon the Icelandic Laxdaela saga. The latter, unfortunately, cannot find
+a place in this volume for reasons of space.
+
+Every student of old northern literature is aware that amongst its
+remains none are more interesting as literary monuments, none more
+characteristic of the people from which they sprang than the two Eddas
+and the Volsunga Saga. Next to the Siege of Troy and the Arthurian
+legends perhaps no story or agglomeration of stories has left so many
+and so important traces in international fiction as the tale of Sigurd
+or Siegfried and his race, the heroic god-born Volsungs. Considering
+indeed the political insignificance and remoteness in which that story
+took its earliest surviving form this enormous success--if the modern
+term may be applied--seems at first singularly out of proportion. But it
+must be remembered that Iceland was little more than the storehouse of
+these old traditions which were the common property of the
+Teuto-Scandinavian race long before the Norsemen set foot on the
+northern isle. Of the two modern versions of the tale which are most
+thoroughly inspired by the ancient myth one, that of Wagner in his
+tetralogy _Der Ring des Nibelungen_, is dramatic in form, the other,
+Morris's _The Story of Sigurd the Volsung_, bears all the
+characteristics of the epic. To this difference of artistic aim, the
+difference of shape which the tale takes in the hands of the two poets
+may be traced. In one point however they agree. Both Wagner and Morris
+go back to the old Icelandic sources in preference to the mediaeval
+German version of the tale embodied in the _Nibelungenlied_. From this
+the German poet borrows little more than the localization of his drama
+on the banks of the river Rhine, the English poet scarcely anything but
+his metre--the _Langzeile_ or long-line with six hightoned, and any
+number of unaccentuated syllables.
+
+The ordinary modern reader taking up the Volsunga Saga or either of the
+Eddas without preparation would probably see in them little more than a
+confused accumulation of impossible adventures and deeds of prowess with
+an admixture of incest, fratricide and other horrors. But on looking
+closer one discovers a certain plan in this entanglement, a plan much
+obscured by the unbridled fancy of the old narrators, and hardly
+realised by themselves, but which, if properly sifted, amounts to what
+we should call a moral or idea. To "point this moral," to consistently
+develop this idea, is the task of the modern poet courageous enough to
+grapple with such a subject. Two ways are open to him. Either he may
+wholly abandon the sequence of the old tale, and group its _disjecta
+membra_ round a leading idea as a centre, or else he may adhere to the
+order and essence of the legend as originally told, only emphasising
+such points as are essential to the significance of the story, and
+omitting or throwing into comparative shade those incidents which by
+their nature betray themselves to be arbitrary additions of later date.
+Wagner has chosen the former way, Morris the latter. This fact, and the
+divergent requirements of the drama and the epic, sufficiently account
+for their difference of treatment. The leading idea in both cases
+remains the same; it is the fatal curse which attaches to the gold or,
+which is the same in a moral sense, to the desire for gold--_auri sacra
+fames_.
+
+At first sight the tale of Sigurd, Fafnir's bane, seems to have little
+connection with this idea. It is briefly this. Sigurd, the son of
+Sigmund the Volsung, is brought up at the court of King Elf, the second
+husband of his mother, after Sigmund has been slain in battle. With a
+sword, fashioned from the shards of his father's weapon, he slays
+Fafnir, a huge worm or dragon, and possesses himself of the treasure
+watched by the monster, including a ring and the "helm of aweing," the
+latter in the _Nibelungenlied_, converted into the "Tarnkappe", a magic
+cap which makes the bearer invisible and endows him with supernatural
+strength. Tasting of the blood of the dragon, he understands the
+language of birds, and an eagle tells him of a beautiful maiden lying
+asleep on a rock called Hindfell, surrounded by a wall of wavering fire.
+Through it Sigurd rides and awakes Brynhild the sword maiden, or
+Valkyrie, from her magic slumber. Love naturally follows. The pair live
+together on Hindfell for a season and Brynhild teaches the youth the
+runes of her wisdom, a conception of woman's refining and civilising
+mission frequently met with in old Germanic tales. When Sigurd leaves
+her to seek new adventures they plight the troth of eternal love, and
+
+  Then he set the ring on her finger, and once if ne'er again
+  They kissed and clung together, and their hearts were full and fain.
+
+From Brynhild's rock Sigurd journeys to a realm "south of the Rhine"
+where dwell the kingly brothers, Gunnar, Hogni, and Guttorm, the
+Niblungs, together with their sister Gudrun, "the fairest of maidens",
+and their mother Grimhild, "a wise wife" and a fierce-hearted woman, as
+the Volsunga Saga alternately describes her. It is through a
+love-philter brewed by her that Sigurd forgets the vows exchanged with
+Brynhild, and becomes enamoured of Gudrun, whom he soon after weds. So
+powerful is the charm that the very name of his former love has been
+wiped from Sigurd's memory, and he willingly undertakes the task to woo
+and win Brynhild for his brother Gunnar. For that purpose he, by means
+of his magic cap, assumes Gunnar's semblance, and after having once
+more crossed the wall of wavering flame compels Brynhild to become his
+bride. But, faithful to his promise, he places a drawn sword between
+himself and the maid "as they lie on one bed together." On parting from
+her he receives back from Brynhild his own ring given to her at Hindfell
+in the days of their bliss. Sigurd then returns to Gunnar and resumes
+his own form, and all return home, the King leading his unwilling bride
+in triumph.
+
+The subsequent events are the outgrowth of the tragic guilt thus
+incurred. Sigurd reveals the secret of Brynhild's wooing to his wife,
+and allows her to take possession of the fatal ring, which she during a
+quarrel shows to Gunnar's wife. Brynhild thus informed of the fraud
+practised on her, thinks of vengeance, and incites her husband and his
+brothers to kill Sigurd. The deed is done while Sigurd lies asleep in
+his chamber with Gudrun, or, according to the more poetic version of the
+German epic, while he bends over a brook in the forest to quench his
+thirst after a day's hunting. But as soon as her beloved foe is killed
+the old passion never quenched rises up again in Brynhild's heart. To be
+united with her lover in death she pierces her breast with a sword, and
+one pyre consumes both.
+
+With this climax Wagner very properly concludes his drama. But the epic
+poet likes to follow the course of events to their ultimate
+consequences, and Morris, in accordance with the Volsunga Saga, proceeds
+to relate how, after many years of mournful widowhood, Gudrun is married
+to Atli, a mighty king, the brother of Brynhild. Eager to become
+possessed of Sigurd's treasure he invites the Niblungs, its actual
+owners, to his country, and there the kingly brothers and all their
+followers are killed by base treachery and after the most heroic
+resistance. They refuse sternly to ransom their lives by a discovery of
+the hoard which previous to their departure they have hidden at the
+bottom of a lake, and which thus is irrecoverably lost to mankind.
+Gudrun has incited her husband to the deed and has looked on calmly
+while her kinsmen were slain one after the other. But when all are dead
+and the murder of Sigurd has been revenged, the feeling of blood
+relationship so powerful among Northern nations is reawakened in her.
+While Atli and his earls are asleep she sets fire to the kingly hall,
+and her wretched husband falls by her own hand. It is characteristic of
+the Icelandic epic that after all these fates and horrors Gudrun lives
+for a number of years and is yet again married to a third husband. But
+to this length even Morris refuses to accompany the tale. In accordance
+with the Volsunga Saga his Gudrun throws herself into the sea; but the
+waves do not carry her "to the burg of king Imakr, a mighty king and
+lord of many folk."
+
+All this is very grand and weird, the reader will say, but where is the
+moral, the ideal essence of which these events are but the earthly
+reflex? To this essence we gradually ascend by inquiring into the
+mythological sources of the tale, by asking who is Sigurd, whence does
+he come, on what mission is he sent and by whom? also what is the
+significance of the treasure watched by a dragon and coveted by all
+mankind? This treasure we then shall find and the curse attaching to it
+ever since it was robbed from Andvari, the water-elf, is the keynote of
+the whole story. The curse proves fatal to all its successive owners
+from Andvari himself and Fafnir, who, for its sake, kills his father,
+down to Sigurd and Brynhild and the Niblung brothers. Nay, Odin himself,
+the supreme God, becomes subject to the curse of the gold through having
+once coveted it, and we dimly discern that the ultimate doom of the
+Aesir, the Ragnaroek, or dusk of the Gods, of which the Voluspa speaks,
+is intimately connected with the same baneful influence. It further
+becomes evident that Sigurd the Volsung, the descendant of Odin, is
+destined to wrest the treasure and the power derived from it from the
+Niblungs, the dark or cloudy people who threaten the bright godworld of
+Valhall with destruction. And this leads us back to a still earlier
+stage of the myth in which Sigurd himself becomes the symbol of the
+celestial luminary conquering night and misty darkness, an idea
+repeatedly hinted at by Morris and splendidly illustrated by Wagner,
+when Siegfried appears on the stage illumined by the first rays of the
+rising sun. In the work of the German poet all this is brought out with
+a distinctness of which only dramatic genius of the highest order is
+capable. With an astounding grasp of detail and with a continuity of
+thought rarely equalled, Wagner has remoulded the confused and complex
+argument of the old tale, omitting what seemed unnecessary, and placing
+in juxtaposition incidents organically connected but separated by the
+obtuseness of later sagamen.
+
+Morris, as has been said before, proceeds on a different principle. His
+first object is to tell a tale, and to tell it as nearly as possible in
+the spirit and according to the letter of the old Sagas. In this he has
+succeeded in a manner at once indicative of his high poetic gifts and of
+a deep sympathy with the spirit of the Northern Myth, which breathes in
+every line and in every turn of his phraseology. To compare the peculiar
+tinge of his language with the ordinary archaisms and euphonisms of
+literary poets would be mistaking a field flower for its counterpart in
+a milliner's shop window. It is true that he also hints at the larger
+philosophic and moral issues of the tale. But when he refers to the end
+of the gods brought about by their own guilt or to the redeeming mission
+of Sigurd, it is done in the mysterious, not to say half conscious
+manner of the saga itself, and the effect is such as from his own point
+of view he intended it and could not but intend it to be.
+
+Between the publication of _The Defence of Guenevere_ and that of Jason
+ten years elapsed. During most of this time the poet was employed in
+artistic pursuits. In 1861 he started in conjunction with a number of
+friends the business of decorator and artistic designer which still
+bears his name. Growing from very modest beginnings this enterprise was
+destined to work an entire change in the external aspect of English
+homes. It soon extended its activity to every branch of art-workmanship.
+D. G. Rossetti, Madox Brown, and Burne Jones drew cartoons for the
+stained glass windows to be seen in many of our churches and colleges.
+Morris himself designed wall-papers and the patterns of carpets. The
+latter are woven on hand-looms in his factory at Merton Abbey, which
+stands on the banks of the river Wandle surrounded by orchards, and
+looks as like a medieval workshop as the modern dresses of the workgirls
+will allow. Another member of the firm, Philip Webb, was the first
+modern architect to build houses of red brick in the style vaguely and
+not quite correctly described as "Queen Anne." At present these houses
+count by thousands in London and a whole village of them has been built
+at Turnham Green. The members of the firm did not confine their
+attention to any particular style or age or country. Wherever beautiful
+things could be found they collected them and made them popular. Old
+china English, and foreign, Japanese fans and screens, Venetian glass
+and German pottery were equally welcome to them and through them to the
+public generally. It may be said that the "aesthetic" fashion as it came
+to be called will like other fashions die out, and that people in the
+course of time will grow tired of "living up to" their furniture and
+dresses. At the same time the idea thus insisted upon that beauty is an
+essential and necessary ingredient of practical modern English life is
+not likely to be without beneficial and permanent effect.
+
+It was as artistic worker and employer of skilled labour that Morris
+imbibed that profound disgust with our social condition which induced
+him to adopt the principles of extreme socialism. For a long time his
+views had tended in that direction, and at the end of 1884 he joined the
+Socialist League, a body professing the doctrines of international
+revolutionary socialism. He is the editor of its official organ, the
+_Commonweal_, which contains many contributions from his pen both in
+prose and verse. That the poet has not been entirely sunk in the
+politician, that longing for beauty is at least the partial cause of
+this desire for change at any price, is however proved by such a
+sentiment as, "Beauty, which is what is meant by _art_, using the word
+in its widest sense, is, I contend, no mere accident of human life which
+people can take or have as they choose, but a positive necessity of
+life, if we are to live as nature meant us to, that is unless we are
+content to be less than men," or by such a vision of a future earthly
+paradise as is expressed in the following lines:
+
+  Then a man shall work and bethink him, and rejoice in the deeds of his
+    hand,
+  Nor yet come home in the even, too faint and weary to stand,
+
+    .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .
+
+  For that which the worker winneth shall then be his indeed,
+  Nor shall half be reaped for nothing by him that sowed no seed.
+
+    .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .
+
+  Then all _mine_ and _thine_ shall be _ours_, and no more shall any man
+    crave
+  For riches that serve for nothing but to fetter a friend for a slave.
+
+One may admire the pathetic beauty of such lines, without sharing the
+poet's hope, that their import will ever be realised, in a world peopled
+by men and not by angels. History teaches and personal experience
+confirms that art enjoyment and art creation of the highest type must be
+confined to the few, and it is to be feared that social democracy,
+whatever it may do for the physical welfare of the many, will care
+little about beauty, either in nature or in art. The _Demos_ will never
+admire Rossetti's pictures or Keats's poetry, and the first thing the
+much-vaunted peasant proprietors, or peasant communes would do would be
+to cut down our ancient trees, level every hedgerow and turn parks and
+commons into potato plots or it may be turnip fields. One may feel
+certain of all this and yet admire the author of _The Earthly
+Paradise_, "the idle singer of an empty day" when he preaches universal
+brotherhood in the crossways of Hammersmith, and wrestles with
+policemen, or wrangles with obtuse magistrates about the freedom of
+speech. Conviction thus upheld at the cost of worldly advantage and
+personal convenience and taste must command respect even from those who
+cannot share it.
+
+  Francis Hueffer.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+                                                       Page
+
+  From "THE DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE AND OTHER POEMS."
+
+  The Defence of Guenevere                               23
+  A Good Knight in Prison                                36
+  Shameful Death                                         41
+  The Eve of Crecy                                       43
+  The Haystack in the Floods                             45
+  Riding together                                        51
+  Summer Dawn                                            54
+
+
+  From "THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON." (Book XIV.)
+
+  The Sirens.--The Garden of the Hesperides.--The
+  Heroes do Sacrifice at Malea                           55
+
+
+  From "THE EARTHLY PARADISE."
+
+  An Apology                                             82
+  From Prologue--The Wanderers                           84
+  Ogier the Dane                                         95
+  The golden Apples                                     147
+  L'Envoi                                               168
+
+
+  From "LOVE IS ENOUGH."
+
+  Interludes                                            173
+
+
+  From "THE STORY OF SIGURD THE VOLSUNG." (Book II.)
+
+  Regin                                                 178
+
+
+
+
+  FROM
+
+  "THE DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE AND OTHER POEMS."
+
+  THE DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE.
+
+
+  But, knowing now that they would have her speak,
+  She threw her wet hair backward from her brow,
+  Her hand close to her mouth touching her cheek,
+
+  As though she had had there a shameful blow,
+  And feeling it shameful to feel ought but shame,
+  All through her heart, yet felt her cheek burned so,
+
+  She must a little touch it; like one lame
+  She walked away from Gauwaine, with her head
+  Still lifted up; and on her cheek of flame
+
+  The tears dried quick; she stopped at last and said:
+ "O knights and lords, it seems but little skill
+  To talk of well-known things past now and dead.
+
+ "God wot I ought to say, I have done ill,
+  And pray you all forgiveness heartily!
+  Because you must be right such great lords--still
+
+ "Listen, suppose your time were come to die,
+  And you were quite alone and very weak;
+  Yea, laid a dying while very mightily
+
+ "The wind was ruffling up the narrow streak
+  Of river through your broad lands running well:
+  Suppose a hush should come, then some one speak:
+
+ "'One of these cloths is heaven, and one is hell,
+  Now choose one cloth for ever, which they be,
+  I will not tell you, you must somehow tell
+
+  "'Of your own strength and mightiness; here, see!'
+  Yea, yea, my lord, and you to ope your eyes,
+  At foot of your familiar bed to see
+
+ "A great God's angel standing, with such dyes,
+  Not known on earth, on his great wings, and hands,
+  Held out two ways, light from the inner skies
+
+  "Showing him well, and making his commands
+  Seem to be God's commands, moreover, too,
+  Holding within his hands the cloths on wands;
+
+ "And one of these strange choosing cloths was blue,
+  Wavy and long, and one cut short and red;
+  No man could tell the better of the two.
+
+ "'After a shivering half-hour you said,
+  'God help! heaven's colour, the blue;' and he said, 'hell.'
+  Perhaps you then would roll upon your bed,
+
+ "And cry to all good men that loved you well,
+  'Ah Christ! if only I had known, known, known;'
+  Launcelot went away, then I could tell,
+
+ "Like wisest man how all things would be, moan,
+  And roll and hurt myself, and long to die,
+  And yet fear much to die for what was sown.
+
+ "Nevertheless you, O Sir Gauwaine, lie,
+  Whatever may have happened through these years,
+  God knows I speak truth, saying that you lie."
+
+  Her voice was low at first, being full of tears,
+  But as it cleared, it grew full loud and shrill,
+  Growing a windy shriek in all men's ears,
+
+  A ringing in their startled brains, until
+  She said that Gauwaine lied, then her voice sunk,
+  And her great eyes began again to fill,
+
+  Though still she stood right up, and never shrunk,
+  But spoke on bravely, glorious lady fair!
+  Whatever tears her full lips may have drunk,
+
+  She stood, and seemed to think, and wrung her hair,
+  Spoke out at last with no more trace of shame,
+  With passionate twisting of her body there:
+
+ "It chanced upon a day Launcelot came
+  To dwell at Arthur's Court; at Christmas-time
+  This happened; when the heralds sung his name,
+
+ "'Son of King Ban of Benwick,' seemed to chime
+  Along with all the bells that rang that day,
+  O'er the white roofs, with little change of rhyme.
+
+ "Christmas and whitened winter passed away,
+  And over me the April sunshine came,
+  Made very awful with black hail-clouds, yea
+
+ "And in the Summer I grew white with flame,
+  And bowed my head down--Autumn, and the sick
+  Sure knowledge things would never be the same,
+
+ "However often Spring might be most thick
+  Of blossoms and buds, smote on me, and I grew
+  Careless of most things, let the clock tick, tick,
+
+ "To my unhappy pulse, that beat right through
+  My eager body; while I laughed out loud,
+  And let my lips curl up at false or true,
+
+ "Seemed cold and shallow without any cloud.
+  Behold my judges, then the cloths were brought:
+  While I was dizzied thus, old thoughts would crowd,
+
+ "Belonging to the time ere I was bought
+  By Arthur's great name and his little love,
+  Must I give up for ever then, I thought,
+
+ "That which I deemed would ever round me move
+  Glorifying all things; for a little word,
+  Scarce ever meant at all, must I now prove
+
+ "Stone-cold for ever? Pray you, does the Lord
+  Will that all folks should be quite happy and good?
+  I love God now a little, if this cord
+
+ "Were broken, once for all what striving could
+  Make me love anything in earth or heaven.
+  So day by day it grew, as if one should
+
+ "Slip slowly down some path worn smooth and even,
+  Down to a cool sea on a summer day;
+  Yet still in slipping there was some small leaven
+
+ "Of stretched hands catching small stones by the way,
+  Until one surely reached the sea at last,
+  And felt strange new joy as the worn head lay
+
+ "Back, with the hair like sea-weed; yea all past
+  Sweat of the forehead, dryness of the lips,
+  Washed utterly out by the dear waves o'ercast,
+
+ "In the lone sea, far off from any ships!
+  Do I not know now of a day in Spring?
+  No minute of that wild day ever slips
+
+ "From out my memory; I hear thrushes sing,
+  And wheresoever I may be, straightway
+  Thoughts of it all come up with most fresh sting:
+
+ "I was half mad with beauty on that day,
+  And went without my ladies all alone,
+  In a quiet garden walled round every way;
+
+ "I was right joyful of that wall of stone,
+  That shut the flowers and trees up with the sky,
+  And trebled all the beauty: to the bone,
+
+ "Yea right through to my heart, grown very shy
+  With weary thoughts, it pierced, and made me glad;
+  Exceedingly glad, and I knew verily,
+
+ "A little thing just then had made me mad;
+  I dared not think, as I was wont to do,
+  Sometimes, upon my beauty; If I had
+
+ "Held out my long hand up against the blue,
+  And, looking on the tenderly darken'd fingers,
+  Thought that by rights one ought to see quite through,
+
+ "There, see you, where the soft still light yet lingers,
+  Round by the edges; what should I have done,
+  If this had joined with yellow spotted singers,
+
+ "And startling green drawn upward by the sun?
+  But shouting, loosed out, see now! all my hair,
+  And trancedly stood watching the west wind run
+
+ "With faintest half-heard breathing sound--why there
+  I lose my head e'en now in doing this;
+  But shortly listen--In that garden fair
+
+ "Came Launcelot walking; this is true, the kiss
+  Wherewith we kissed in meeting that spring day,
+  I scarce dare talk of the remember'd bliss,
+
+ "When both our mouths went wandering in one way,
+  And aching sorely, met among the leaves;
+  Our hands being left behind strained far away.
+
+ "Never within a yard of my bright sleeves
+  Had Launcelot come before--and now, so nigh!
+  After that day why is it Guenevere grieves?
+
+ "Nevertheless you, O Sir Gauwaine, lie,
+  Whatever happened on through all those years,
+  God knows I speak truth, saying that you lie.
+
+ "Being such a lady could I weep these tears
+  If this were true? A great queen such as I
+  Having sinn'd this way, straight her conscience sears;
+
+ "And afterwards she liveth hatefully,
+  Slaying and poisoning, certes never weeps,--
+  Gauwaine be friends now, speak me lovingly.
+
+ "Do I not see how God's dear pity creeps
+  All through your frame, and trembles in your mouth?
+  Remember in what grave your mother sleeps,
+
+ "Buried in some place far down in the south,
+  Men are forgetting as I speak to you;
+  By her head sever'd in that awful drouth
+
+ "Of pity that drew Agravaine's fell blow,
+  I pray your pity! let me not scream out
+  For ever after, when the shrill winds blow
+
+ "Through half your castle-locks! let me not shout
+  For ever after in the winter night
+  When you ride out alone! in battle-rout
+
+ "Let not my rusting tears make your sword light!
+  Ah! God of mercy how he turns away!
+  So, ever must I dress me to the fight,
+
+ "So--let God's justice work! Gauwaine, I say,
+  See me hew down your proofs: yea all men know
+  Even as you said how Mellyagraunce one day,
+
+ "One bitter day in _la Fausse Garde_, for so
+  All good knights held it after, saw--
+  Yea, sirs, by cursed unknightly outrage; though
+
+ "You, Gauwaine, held his word without a flaw,
+  This Mellyagraunce saw blood upon my bed--
+  Whose blood then pray you? is there any law
+
+ "To make a queen say why some spots of red
+  Lie on her coverlet? or will you say,
+  'Your hands are white, lady, as when you wed,
+
+ "'Where did you bleed?' and must I stammer out--'Nay',
+  I blush indeed, fair lord, only to rend
+  My sleeve up to my shoulder, where there lay
+
+ "'A knife-point last night:' so must I defend
+  The honour of the lady Guenevere?
+  Not so, fair lords, even if the world should end
+
+ "This very day, and you were judges here
+  Instead of God. Did you see Mellyagraunce
+  When Launcelot stood by him? what white fear
+
+ "Curdled his blood, and how his teeth did dance,
+  His side sink in? as my knight cried and said,
+  'Slayer of unarm'd men, here is a chance!
+
+ "'Setter of traps, I pray you guard your head,
+  By God I am so glad to fight with you,
+  Stripper of ladies, that my hand feels lead
+
+ "'For driving weight; hurrah now! draw and do,
+  For all my wounds are moving in my breast,
+  And I am getting mad with waiting so.'
+
+ "He struck his hands together o'er the beast,
+  Who fell down flat, and grovell'd at his feet,
+  And groan'd at being slain so young--'at least.'
+
+ "My knight said, 'Rise you, sir, who are so fleet
+  At catching ladies, half-arm'd will I fight,
+  My left side all uncover'd!' then I weet,
+
+ "Up sprang Sir Mellyagraunce with great delight
+  Upon his knave's face; not until just then
+  Did I quite hate him, as I saw my knight
+
+ "Along the lists look to my stake and pen
+  With such a joyous smile, it made me sigh
+  From agony beneath my waist-chain, when
+
+ "The fight began, and to me they drew nigh;
+  Ever Sir Launcelot kept him on the right,
+  And traversed warily, and ever high
+
+ "And fast leapt caitiff's sword, until my knight
+  Sudden threw up his sword to his left hand,
+  Caught it, and swung it; that was all the fight.
+
+ "Except a spout of blood on the hot land;
+  For it was hottest summer; and I know
+  I wonder'd how the fire, while I should stand,
+
+ "And burn, against the heat, would quiver so,
+  Yards above my head; thus these matters went:
+  Which things were only warnings of the woe
+
+ "That fell on me. Yet Mellyagraunce was shent,
+  For Mellyagraunce had fought against the Lord;
+  Therefore, my lords, take heed lest you be blent
+
+ "With all this wickedness; say no rash word
+  Against me, being so beautiful; my eyes,
+  Wept all away the grey, may bring some sword
+
+ "To drown you in your blood; see my breast rise,
+  Like waves of purple sea, as here I stand;
+  And how my arms are moved in wonderful wise,
+
+ "Yea also at my full heart's strong command,
+  See through my long throat how the words go up
+  In ripples to my mouth; how in my hand
+
+ "The shadow lies like wine within a cup
+  Of marvellously colour'd gold; yea now
+  This little wind is rising, look you up,
+
+ "And wonder how the light is falling so
+  Within my moving tresses: will you dare
+  When you have looked a little on my brow,
+
+ "To say this thing is vile? or will you care
+  For any plausible lies of cunning woof,
+  When you can see my face with no lie there
+
+ "For ever? am I not a gracious proof--
+  'But in your chamber Launcelot was found'--
+  Is there a good knight then would stand aloof,
+
+ "When a queen says with gentle queenly sound:
+  'O true as steel come now and talk with me,
+  I love to see your step upon the ground
+
+ "'Unwavering, also well I love to see
+  That gracious smile light up your face, and hear
+  Your wonderful words, that all mean verily
+
+ "'The thing they seem to mean: good friend, so dear
+  To me in everything, come here to-night,
+  Or else the hours will pass most dull and drear;
+
+ "'If you come not, I fear this time I might
+  Get thinking over much of times gone by,
+  When I was young, and green hope was in sight:
+
+ "'For no man cares now to know why I sigh;
+  And no man comes to sing me pleasant songs,
+  Nor any brings me the sweet flowers that lie
+
+ "'So thick in the gardens; therefore one so longs
+  To see you, Launcelot; that we may be
+  Like children once again, free from all wrongs
+
+ "'Just for one night.' Did he not come to me?
+  What thing could keep true Launcelot away
+  If I said 'Come?' there was one less than three
+
+ "In my quiet room that night, and we were gay;
+  Till sudden I rose up, weak, pale, and sick,
+  Because a bawling broke our dream up, yea
+
+ "I looked at Launcelot's face and could not speak,
+  For he looked helpless too, for a little while;
+  Then I remember how I tried to shriek,
+
+ "And could not, but fell down; from tile to tile
+  The stones they threw up rattled o'er my head
+  And made me dizzier; till within a while
+
+ "My maids were all about me, and my head
+  On Launcelot's breast was being soothed away
+  From its white chattering, until Launcelot said--
+
+ "By God! I will not tell you more to-day,
+  Judge any way you will--what matters it?
+  You know quite well the story of that fray,
+
+ "How Launcelot still'd their bawling, the mad fit
+  That caught up Gauwaine--all, all, verily,
+  But just that which would save me; these things flit.
+
+ "Nevertheless you, O Sir Gauwaine, lie,
+  Whatever may have happen'd these long years,
+  God knows I speak truth, saying that you lie!
+
+ "All I have said is truth, by Christ's dear tears."
+  She would not speak another word, but stood
+  Turn'd sideways; listening, like a man who hears
+
+  His brother's trumpet sounding through the wood
+  Of his foe's lances. She lean'd eagerly,
+  And gave a slight spring sometimes, as she could
+
+  At last hear something really; joyfully
+  Her cheek grew crimson, as the headlong speed
+  Of the roan charger drew all men to see,
+  The knight who came was Launcelot at good need.
+
+
+
+
+  A GOOD KNIGHT IN PRISON.
+
+
+  SIR GUY, _being in the court of a Pagan castle_.
+
+
+  This castle where I dwell, it stands
+  A long way off from Christian lands,
+  A long way off my lady's hands,
+  A long way off the aspen trees,
+  And murmur of the lime-tree bees.
+
+  But down the Valley of the Rose
+  My lady often hawking goes,
+  Heavy of cheer; oft turns behind,
+  Leaning towards the western wind,
+  Because it bringeth to her mind
+  Sad whisperings of happy times,
+  The face of him who sings these rhymes.
+
+    King Guilbert rides beside her there,
+  Bends low and calls her very fair,
+  And strives, by pulling down his hair,
+  To hide from my dear lady's ken
+  The grisly gash I gave him, when
+  I cut him down at Camelot;
+  However he strives, he hides it not,
+  That tourney will not be forgot,
+  Besides, it is King Guilbert's lot,
+  Whatever he says she answers not.
+  Now tell me, you that are in love,
+  From the king's son to the wood-dove,
+  Which is the better, he or I?
+
+  For this king means that I should die
+  In this lone Pagan castle, where
+  The flowers droop in the bad air
+  On the September evening.
+
+    Look, now I take mine ease and sing,
+  Counting as but a little thing
+  The foolish spite of a bad king.
+
+    For these vile things that hem me in,
+  These Pagan beasts who live in sin,
+  The sickly flowers pale and wan,
+  The grim blue-bearded castellan,
+  The stanchions half worn-out with rust,
+  Whereto their banner vile they trust--
+  Why, all these things I hold them just
+  Like dragons in a missal book,
+  Wherein, whenever we may look,
+  We see no horror, yea, delight
+  We have, the colours are so bright;
+  Likewise we note the specks of white,
+  And the great plates of burnish'd gold.
+
+    Just so this Pagan castle old,
+  And everything I can see there,
+  Sick-pining in the marshland air,
+  I note; I will go over now,
+  Like one who paints with knitted brow,
+  The flowers and all things one by one,
+  From the snail on the wall to the setting sun.
+
+    Four great walls, and a little one
+  That leads down to the barbican,
+  Which walls with many spears they man,
+  When news comes to the castellan
+  Of Launcelot being in the land.
+
+    And as I sit here, close at hand
+  Four spikes of sad sick sunflowers stand,
+  The castellan with a long wand
+  Cuts down their leaves as he goes by,
+  Ponderingly, with screw'd-up eye,
+  And fingers twisted in his beard--
+  Nay, was it a knight's shout I heard?
+  I have a hope makes me afeard:
+  It cannot be, but if some dream
+  Just for a minute made me deem
+  I saw among the flowers there
+  My lady's face with long red hair,
+  Pale, ivory-colour'd dear face come,
+  As I was wont to see her some
+  Fading September afternoon,
+  And kiss me, saying nothing, soon
+  To leave me by myself again;
+    Could I get this by longing: vain!
+
+    The castellan is gone: I see
+  On one broad yellow flower a bee
+  Drunk with much honey--
+                              Christ! again,
+  Some distant knight's voice brings me pain,
+  I thought I had forgot to feel,
+  I never heard the blissful steel
+  These ten years past; year after year,
+  Through all my hopeless sojourn here,
+  No Christian pennon has been near;
+  Laus Deo! the dragging wind draws on
+  Over the marches, battle won,
+  Knights' shouts, and axes hammering,
+  Yea, quicker now the dint and ring
+  Of flying hoofs; ah, castellan,
+  When they come back count man for man,
+  Say whom you miss.
+
+    The PAGANS, _from the battlements_.
+
+                      Mahmoud to aid!
+  Why flee ye so like men dismay'd?
+
+          The PAGANS, _from without_.
+
+  Nay, haste! for here is Launcelot,
+  Who follows quick upon us, hot
+  And shouting with his men-at-arms.
+
+               SIR GUY.
+
+  Also the Pagans raise alarms,
+  And ring the bells for fear; at last
+  My prison walls will be well past.
+
+      SIR LAUNCELOT, _from outside_.
+
+  Ho! in the name of the Trinity,
+  Let down the drawbridge quick to me,
+  And open doors, that I may see
+  Guy the good knight.
+
+      The PAGANS, _from the battlements_.
+
+        Nay, Launcelot,
+  With mere big words ye win us not.
+
+        SIR LAUNCELOT.
+
+  Bid Miles bring up la perriere,
+  And archers clear the vile walls there,
+  Bring back the notches to the ear,
+  Shoot well together! God to aid!
+  These miscreants shall be well paid.
+
+  Hurrah! all goes together; Miles
+  Is good to win my lady's smiles
+  For his good shooting--Launcelot!
+  On knights a-pace! this game is hot!
+
+      SIR GUY _sayeth afterwards_.
+
+  I said, I go to meet her now,
+  And saying so, I felt a blow
+  From some clench'd hand across my brow,
+  And fell down on the sunflowers
+  Just as a hammering smote my ears,
+  After which this I felt in sooth;
+  My bare hands throttling without ruth
+  The hairy-throated castellan;
+  Then a grim fight with those that ran
+  To slay me, while I shouted, "God
+  For the Lady Mary!" deep I trod
+  That evening in my own red blood;
+  Nevertheless so stiff I stood,
+  That when the knights burst the old wood
+  Of the castle-doors, I was not dead.
+
+    I kiss the Lady Mary's head,
+  Her lips, and her hair golden red,
+  Because to-day we have been wed.
+
+
+
+
+  SHAMEFUL DEATH.
+
+
+  There were four of us about that bed;
+    The mass-priest knelt at the side,
+  I and his mother stood at the head,
+    Over his feet lay the bride;
+  We were quite sure that he was dead,
+    Though his eyes were open wide.
+
+  He did not die in the night,
+    He did not die in the day,
+  But in the morning twilight
+    His spirit pass'd away,
+  When neither sun nor moon was bright,
+    And the trees were merely grey.
+
+  He was not slain with the sword,
+    Knight's axe, or the knightly spear,
+  Yet spoke he never a word
+    After he came in here;
+  I cut away the cord
+    From the neck of my brother dear.
+
+  He did not strike one blow,
+    For the recreants came behind,
+  In a place where the hornbeams grow,
+    A path right hard to find,
+  For the hornbeam boughs swing so,
+    That the twilight makes it blind.
+
+  They lighted a great torch then,
+    When his arms were pinion'd fast,
+  Sir John the knight of the Fen,
+    Sir Guy of the Dolorous Blast,
+  With knights threescore and ten,
+    Hung brave Lord Hugh at last.
+
+  I am threescore and ten,
+    And my hair is all turn'd grey,
+  But I met Sir John of the Fen
+    Long ago on a summer day,
+  And am glad to think of the moment when
+    I took his life away.
+
+  I am threescore and ten,
+    And my strength is mostly pass'd,
+  But long ago I and my men,
+    When the sky was overcast,
+  And the smoke roll'd over the reeds of the fen,
+    Slew Guy of the Dolorous Blast.
+
+  And now, knights all of you,
+    I pray you pray for Sir Hugh,
+  A good knight and a true,
+    And for Alice, his wife, pray too.
+
+
+
+
+  THE EVE OF CRECY.
+
+
+  Gold on her head, and gold on her feet,
+  And gold where the hems of her kirtle meet,
+  And a golden girdle round my sweet;--
+    _Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite._
+
+  Margaret's maids are fair to see,
+  Freshly dress'd and pleasantly;
+  Margaret's hair falls down to her knee;--
+    _Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite._
+
+  If I were rich I would kiss her feet,
+  I would kiss the place where the gold hems meet,
+  And the golden girdle round my sweet--
+    _Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite._
+
+  Ah me! I have never touch'd her hand;
+  When the arriere-ban goes through the land,
+  Six basnets under my pennon stand;--
+    _Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite._
+
+  And many an one grins under his hood:
+  "Sir Lambert de Bois, with all his men good,
+  Has neither food nor firewood;"--
+    _Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite._
+
+  If I were rich I would kiss her feet,
+  And the golden girdle of my sweet,
+  And thereabouts where the gold hems meet;--
+    _Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite._
+
+  Yet even now it is good to think,
+  While my few poor varlets grumble and drink
+  In my desolate hall where the fires sink;--
+    _Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite._
+
+  Of Margaret sitting glorious there,
+  In glory of gold and glory of hair,
+  And glory of glorious face most fair;--
+    _Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite._
+
+  Likewise to-night I make good cheer,
+  Because this battle draweth near:
+  For what have I to lose or fear?--
+    _Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite._
+
+  For, look you, my horse is good to prance
+  A right fair measure in this war-dance,
+  Before the eyes of Philip of France;--
+    _Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite._
+
+  And sometime it may hap, perdie,
+  While my new towers stand up three and three,
+  And my hall gets painted fair to see--
+    _Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite._--
+
+  That folks may say: "Times change, by the rood,
+  For Lambert, banneret of the wood,
+  Has heaps of food and firewood;--
+    _Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite;_--
+
+  "And wonderful eyes, too, under the hood
+  Of a damsel of right noble blood:"
+  St. Ives, for Lambert of the wood!--
+    _Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite._
+
+
+
+
+  THE HAYSTACK IN THE FLOODS.
+
+
+  Had she come all the way for this,
+  To part at last without a kiss?
+  Yea, had she borne the dirt and rain
+  That her own eyes might see him slain
+  Beside the haystack in the floods?
+
+  Along the dripping leafless woods,
+  The stirrup touching either shoe,
+  She rode astride as troopers do;
+  With kirtle kilted to her knee,
+  To which the mud splash'd wretchedly;
+  And the wet dripp'd from every tree
+  Upon her head and heavy hair,
+  And on her eyelids broad and fair;
+  The tears and rain ran down her face.
+
+  By fits and starts they rode apace,
+  And very often was his place
+  Far off from her; he had to ride
+  Ahead, to see what might betide
+  When the road cross'd; and sometimes, when
+  There rose a murmuring from his men,
+  Had to turn back with promises;
+  Ah me! she had but little ease;
+  And often for pure doubt and dread
+  She sobb'd, made giddy in the head
+
+  By the swift riding; while, for cold,
+  Her slender fingers scarce could hold
+  The wet reins; yea, and scarcely, too,
+  She felt the foot within her shoe
+  Against the stirrup: all for this,
+  To part at last without a kiss
+  Beside the haystack in the floods.
+
+  For when they near'd that old soak'd hay,
+  They saw across the only way
+  That Judas, Godmar, and the three
+  Red running lions dismally
+  Grinn'd from his pennon, under which
+  In one straight line along the ditch,
+  They counted thirty heads.
+
+                            So then,
+  While Robert turn'd round to his men,
+  She saw at once the wretched end,
+  And, stooping down, tried hard to rend
+  Her coif the wrong way from her head,
+  And hid her eyes; while Robert said:
+  "Nay, love, 'tis scarcely two to one,
+  At Poictiers where we made them run
+  So fast--why, sweet my love, good cheer,
+  The Gascon frontier is so near,
+  Nought after this."
+
+                  But, "O," she said,
+  "My God! my God! I have to tread
+  The long way back without you; then
+  The court at Paris; those six men;
+  The gratings of the Chatelet;
+  The swift Seine on some rainy day
+  Like this, and people standing by,
+  And laughing, while my weak hands try
+  To recollect how strong men swim.
+  All this, or else a life with him,
+  For which I should be damned at last,
+  Would God that this next hour were past!"
+
+  He answer'd not, but cried his cry,
+  "St. George for Marny!" cheerily;
+  And laid his hand upon her rein.
+  Alas! no man of all his train
+  Gave back that cheery cry again;
+  And, while for rage his thumb beat fast
+  Upon his sword-hilt, some one cast
+  About his neck a kerchief long,
+  And bound him.
+
+                Then they went along
+  To Godmar; who said: "Now, Jehane,
+  Your lover's life is on the wane
+  So fast, that, if this very hour
+  You yield not as my paramour,
+  He will not see the rain leave off--
+  Nay, keep your tongue from gibe and scoff,
+  Sir Robert, or I slay you now."
+
+  She laid her hand upon her brow,
+  Then gazed upon the palm, as though
+  She thought her forehead bled, and--"No,"
+  She said, and turn'd her head away,
+  As there were nothing else to say,
+  And everything were settled: red
+  Grew Godmar's face from chin to head:
+  "Jehane, on yonder hill there stands
+  My castle, guarding well my lands:
+  What hinders me from taking you,
+  And doing that I list to do
+  To your fair wilful body, while
+  Your knight lies dead?"
+
+                            A wicked smile
+  Wrinkled her face, her lips grew thin,
+  A long way out she thrust her chin:
+  "You know that I should strangle you
+  While you were sleeping; or bite through
+  Your throat, by God's help--ah!" she said,
+  "Lord Jesus, pity your poor maid!
+  For in such wise they hem me in,
+  I cannot choose but sin and sin,
+  Whatever happens: yet I think
+  They could not make me eat or drink,
+  And so should I just reach my rest."
+
+  "Nay, if you do not my behest,
+  O Jehane! though I love you well,"
+  Said Godmar, "would I fail to tell
+  All that I know." "Foul lies," she said.
+  "Eh? lies, my Jehane? by God's head,
+  At Paris folks would deem them true!
+  Do you know, Jehane, they cry for you,
+  'Jehane the brown! Jehane the brown!
+  Give us Jehane to burn or drown!'--
+  Eh--gag me, Robert!--sweet my friend,
+  This were indeed a piteous end
+  For those long fingers, and long feet,
+  And long neck, and smooth shoulders sweet;
+  An end that few men would forget
+  That saw it--So, an hour yet:
+  Consider, Jehane, which to take
+  Of life or death!"
+
+                    So, scarce awake
+  Dismounting, did she leave that place,
+  And totter some yards: with her face
+  Turn'd upward to the sky she lay,
+  Her head on a wet heap of hay,
+  And fell asleep: and while she slept,
+  And did not dream, the minutes crept
+  Round to the twelve again; but she,
+  Being waked at last, sigh'd quietly,
+  And strangely childlike came, and said:
+  "I will not." Straightway Godmar's head,
+  As though it hung on strong wires, turn'd
+  Most sharply round, and his face burn'd.
+
+  For Robert--both his eyes were dry,
+  He could not weep but gloomily
+  He seem'd to watch the rain; yea, too,
+  His lips were firm; he tried once more
+  To touch her lips; she reach'd out, sore
+  And vain desire so tortured them,
+  The poor grey lips, and now the hem
+  Of his sleeve brush'd them.
+
+                            With a start
+  Up Godmar rose, thrust them apart;
+  From Robert's throat he loosed the bands
+  Of silk and mail; with empty hands
+  Held out, she stood and gazed, and saw,
+  The long bright blade without a flaw
+  Glide out from Godmar's sheath, his hand
+  In Robert's hair; she saw him bend
+  Back Robert's head; she saw him send
+  The thin steel down; the blow told well,
+  Right backward the knight Robert fell,
+  And moan'd as dogs do, being half dead,
+  Unwitting, as I deem: so then
+  Godmar turn'd grinning to his men,
+  Who ran, some five or six, and beat
+  His head to pieces at their feet.
+
+  Then Godmar turn'd again and said:
+  "So, Jehane, the first fitte is read!
+  Take note, my lady, that your way
+  Lies backward to the Chatelet!"
+  She shook her head and gazed awhile
+  At her cold hands with a rueful smile,
+  As though this thing had made her mad.
+  This was the parting that they had
+  Beside the haystack in the floods.
+
+
+
+
+  RIDING TOGETHER.
+
+
+  For many, many days together
+    The wind blew steady from the East;
+  For many days hot grew the weather,
+    About the time of our Lady's Feast.
+
+  For many days we rode together,
+    Yet met we neither friend nor foe;
+  Hotter and clearer grew the weather,
+    Steadily did the East wind blow.
+
+  We saw the trees in the hot, bright weather,
+    Clear-cut, with shadows very black,
+  As freely we rode on together
+    With helms unlaced and bridles slack.
+
+  And often as we rode together,
+    We, looking down the green-bank'd stream,
+  Saw flowers in the sunny weather,
+    And saw the bubble-making bream.
+
+  And in the night lay down together,
+    And hung above our heads the rood,
+  Or watch'd night-long in the dewy weather,
+    The while the moon did watch the wood.
+
+  Our spears stood bright and thick together,
+    Straight out the banners stream'd behind,
+  As we gallop'd on in the sunny weather,
+    With faces turn'd towards the wind.
+
+  Down sank our threescore spears together,
+    As thick we saw the Pagans ride;
+  His eager face in the clear fresh weather,
+    Shone out that last time by my side.
+
+  Up the sweep of the bridge we dash'd together,
+    It rock'd to the crash of the meeting spears,
+  Down rain'd the buds of the dear spring weather,
+    The elm-tree flowers fell like tears.
+
+  There, as we roll'd and writhed together,
+    I threw my arms above my head,
+  For close by my side, in the lovely weather,
+    I saw him reel and fall back dead.
+
+  I and the slayer met together,
+    He waited the death-stroke there in his place,
+  With thoughts of death, in the lovely weather,
+    Gapingly mazed at my madden'd face.
+
+  Madly I fought as we fought together;
+    In vain: the little Christian band
+  The pagans drowned, as in stormy weather,
+    The river drowns low-lying land.
+
+  They bound my blood-stain'd hands together,
+    They bound his corpse to nod by my side:
+  Then on we rode, in the bright-March weather,
+    With clash of cymbals did we ride.
+
+  We ride no more, no more together;
+    My prison-bars are thick and strong,
+  I take no heed of any weather,
+    The sweet Saints grant I live not long.
+
+
+
+
+  SUMMER DAWN.
+
+
+  Pray but one prayer for me 'twixt thy closed lips,
+    Think but one thought of me up in the stars.
+  The summer night waneth, the morning light slips,
+    Faint and grey 'twixt the leaves of the aspen, betwixt the cloud-bars,
+  That are patiently waiting there for the dawn:
+    Patient and colourless, though Heaven's gold
+  Waits to float through them along with the sun.
+  Far out in the meadows, above the young corn,
+    The heavy elms wait, and restless and cold
+  The uneasy wind rises; the roses are dun;
+  Through the long twilight they pray for the dawn,
+  Round the lone house in the midst of the corn.
+    Speak but one word to me over the corn,
+    Over the tender, bow'd locks of the corn.
+
+
+
+
+  FROM
+  "THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON."
+
+  BOOK XIV.
+
+  The Sirens--The Garden of the Hesperides--The Heroes do Sacrifice at
+    Malea.
+
+
+  Across the open sea they drew their wake
+  For three long days, and when the fourth 'gan break
+  Their eyes beheld the fair Trinacrian shore,
+  And there-along they coasted two days more.
+  Then first Medea warned them to take heed,
+  Lest they should end all memory of their deed
+  Where dwell the Sirens on the yellow sand,
+  And folk should think some tangled poisonous land
+  Had buried them, or some tumultuous sea
+  O'er their white bones was tossing angrily;
+  Or that some muddy river, far from Greece,
+  Drove seaward o'er the ringlets of the Fleece.
+    But when the Minyae hearkened to this word,
+  With many a thought their wearied hearts were stirred,
+  And longing for the near-gained Grecian land,
+  Where in a little while their feet should stand;
+  Yet none the less like to a happy dream,
+  Now, when they neared it, did their own home seem,
+  And like a dream the glory of their quest,
+  And therewithal some thought of present rest
+  Stole over them, and they were fain to sigh,
+  Hearkening the sighing restless wind go by.
+    But hard on even of the second day,
+  As o'er the gentle waves they took their way,
+  The orange-scented land-breeze seemed to bear
+  Some other sounds unto the listening ear
+  Than all day long they had been hearkening,
+  The land-born signs of many a well-known thing.
+  Thereat Medea trembled, for she knew
+  That nigh the dreadful sands at last they drew,
+  For certainly the Sirens' song she heard,
+  Though yet her ear could shape it to no word,
+  And by their faces could the queen behold
+  How sweet it was, although no tale it told,
+  To those worn toilers o'er the bitter sea.
+    Now, as they sped along, they presently,
+  Rounding a headland, reached a little bay
+  Walled from the sea by splintered cliffs and grey,
+  Capped by the thymy hills' green wind-beat head,
+  Where 'mid the whin the burrowing rabbits fed.
+  And 'neath the cliff they saw a belt of sand,
+  'Twixt Nereus' pasture and the high scarped land,
+  Whereon, yet far off, could their eyes behold
+  White bodies moving, crowned and girt with gold,
+  Wherefrom it seemed that lovely music welled.
+    So when all this the grey-eyed queen beheld,
+  She said: "O Jason, I have made thee wise
+  In this and other things; turn then thine eyes
+  Seaward, and note the ripple of the sea,
+  Where there is hope as well as fear for thee.
+  Nor look upon the death that lurketh there
+  'Neath the grey cliff, though sweet it seems and fair;
+  For thou art young upon this day to die.
+  Take then the helm, and gazing steadily
+  Upon the road to Greece, make strong thine hand,
+  And steer us toward the lion-haunted land,
+  And thou, O Thracian! if thou e'er hast moved
+  Men's hearts with stories of the Gods who loved,
+  And men who suffered, move them on this day,
+  Taking the deadly love of death away,
+  That even now is stealing over them,
+  While still they gaze upon the ocean's hem,
+  Where their undoing is if they but knew."
+
+    But while she spake, still nigher Argo drew
+  Unto the yellow edges of the shore,
+  And little help she had of ashen oar,
+  For as her shielded side rolled through the sea,
+  Silent with glittering eyes the Minyae
+  Gazed o'er the surge, for they were nigh enow
+  To see the gusty wind of evening blow
+  Long locks of hair across those bodies white,
+  With golden spray hiding some dear delight;
+  Yea, nigh enow to see their red lips smile,
+  Wherefrom all song had ceased now for a while,
+  As though they deemed the prey was in the net,
+  And they no more had need a bait to set,
+  But their own bodies, fair beyond man's thought,
+  Under the grey cliff, hidden not of aught
+  But of such mist of tears as in the eyes
+  Of those seafaring men might chance to rise.
+    A moment Jason gazed, then through the waist
+  Ran swiftly, and with trembling hands made haste
+  To trim the sail, then to the tiller ran,
+  And thrust aside the skilled Milesian man,
+  Who with half-open mouth, and dreamy eyes,
+  Stood steering Argo to that land of lies;
+  But as he staggered forward, Jason's hand
+  Hard on the tiller steered away from land,
+  And as her head a little now fell off
+  Unto the wide sea, did he shout this scoff
+  To Thracian Orpheus: "Minstrel, shall we die,
+  Because thou hast forgotten utterly
+  What things she taught thee whom men call divine?
+  Or will thy measures but lead folk to wine,
+  And scented beds, and not to noble deeds?
+  Or will they fail as fail the shepherd's reeds
+  Before the trumpet, when these sea-witches
+  Pipe shrilly to the washing of the seas?
+  I am a man, and these but beasts, but thou
+  Giving these souls, that all were men ere now,
+  Shalt be a very God and not a man!"
+    So spake he; but his fingers Orpheus ran
+  Over the strings, and sighing turned away
+  From that fair ending of the sunny bay;
+  But as his well-skilled hands were preluding
+  What his heart swelled with, they began to sing
+  With pleading voices from the yellow sands,
+  Clustered together, with appealing hands
+  Reached out to Argo as the great sail drew,
+  While o'er their white limbs sharp the spray-shower flew,
+  Since they spared not to set white feet among
+  The cold waves heedless of their honied song.
+    Sweetly they sang, and still the answer came
+  Piercing and clear from him, as bursts the flame
+  From out the furnace in the moonless night;
+  Yet, as their words are no more known aright
+  Through lapse of many ages, and no man
+  Can any more across the waters wan
+  Behold those singing women of the sea,
+  Once more I pray you all to pardon me,
+  If with my feeble voice and harsh I sing
+  From what dim memories yet may chance to cling
+  About men's hearts, of lovely things once sung
+  Beside the sea, while yet the world was young.
+
+      THE SIRENS.
+
+  O happy seafarers are ye,
+    And surely all your ills are past,
+  And toil upon the land and sea,
+    Since ye are brought to us at last.
+
+  To you the fashion of the world,
+    Wide lands laid waste, fair cities burned,
+  And plagues, and kings from kingdoms hurled,
+    Are nought, since hither ye have turned.
+
+  For as upon this beach we stand,
+    And o'er our heads the sea-fowl flit,
+  Our eyes behold a glorious land,
+    And soon shall ye be kings of it.
+
+      ORPHEUS.
+
+  A little more, a little more,
+    O carriers of the Golden Fleece,
+  A little labour with the oar,
+    Before we reach the land of Greece.
+
+  E'en now perchance faint rumours reach
+    Men's ears of this our victory,
+  And draw them down unto the beach
+    To gaze across the empty sea.
+
+  But since the longed-for day is nigh,
+    And scarce a God could stay us now,
+  Why do ye hang your heads and sigh,
+    Hindering for nought our eager prow?
+
+      THE SIRENS.
+
+  Ah, had ye chanced to reach the home
+    On which your fond desires were set,
+  Into what troubles had ye come?
+    Short love and joy and long regret.
+
+  But now, but now, when ye have lain
+    Asleep with us a little while
+  Beneath the washing of the main,
+    How calm shall be your waking smile!
+
+  For ye shall smile to think of life
+    That knows no troublous change or fear,
+  No unavailing bitter strife,
+    That ere its time brings trouble near.
+
+      ORPHEUS.
+
+  Is there some murmur in your ears,
+    That all that we have done is nought,
+  And nothing ends our cares and fears,
+    Till the last fear on us is brought?
+
+      THE SIRENS.
+
+  Alas! and will ye stop your ears,
+    In vain desire to do aught,
+  And wish to live 'mid cares and fears,
+    Until the last fear makes you nought?
+
+      ORPHEUS.
+
+  Is not the May-time now on earth,
+    When close against the city wall
+  The folk are singing in their mirth,
+    While on their heads the May-flowers fall?
+
+      THE SIRENS.
+
+  Yes, May is come, and its sweet breath
+    Shall well-nigh make you weep to-day,
+  And pensive with swift-coming death,
+    Shall ye be satiate of the May.
+
+      ORPHEUS.
+
+  Shall not July bring fresh delight,
+    As underneath green trees ye sit,
+  And o'er some damsel's body white
+    The noontide shadows change and flit?
+
+      THE SIRENS.
+
+  No new delight July shall bring
+    But ancient fear and fresh desire,
+  And, spite of every lovely thing,
+    Of July surely shall ye tire.
+
+      ORPHEUS.
+
+  And now, when August comes on thee,
+    And 'mid the golden sea of corn
+  The merry reapers thou mayst see,
+    Wilt thou still think the earth forlorn?
+
+      THE SIRENS.
+
+  Set flowers upon thy short-lived head,
+    And in thine heart forgetfulness
+  Of man's hard toil, and scanty bread,
+    And weary of those days no less.
+
+      ORPHEUS.
+
+  Or wilt thou climb the sunny hill,
+    In the October afternoon,
+  To watch the purple earth's blood fill
+    The grey vat to the maiden's tune?
+
+      THE SIRENS.
+
+  When thou beginnest to grow old,
+    Bring back remembrance of thy bliss
+  With that the shining cup doth hold,
+    And weary helplessly of this.
+
+      ORPHEUS.
+
+  Or pleasureless shall we pass by
+    The long cold night and leaden day,
+  That song, and tale, and minstrelsy
+    Shall make as merry as the May?
+
+      THE SIRENS.
+
+  List then, to-night, to some old tale
+    Until the tears o'erflow thine eyes;
+  But what shall all these things avail,
+    When sad to-morrow comes and dies?
+
+      ORPHEUS.
+
+  And when the world is born again,
+    And with some fair love, side by side,
+  Thou wanderest 'twixt the sun and rain,
+    In that fresh love-begetting tide;
+
+  Then, when the world is born again,
+    And the sweet year before thee lies,
+  Shall thy heart think of coming pain,
+    Or vex itself with memories?
+
+      THE SIRENS.
+
+  Ah! then the world is born again
+    With burning love unsatisfied,
+  And new desires fond and vain,
+    And weary days from tide to tide.
+
+  Ah! when the world is born again,
+    A little day is soon gone by,
+  When thou, unmoved by sun or rain,
+    Within a cold straight house shalt lie.
+
+    Therewith they ceased awhile, as languidly
+  The head of Argo fell off toward the sea,
+  And through the water she began to go,
+  For from the land a fitful wind did blow,
+  That, dallying with the many-coloured sail,
+  Would sometimes swell it out and sometimes fail,
+  As nigh the east side of the bay they drew;
+  Then o'er the waves again the music flew.
+
+      THE SIRENS.
+
+    Think not of pleasure, short and vain.
+  Wherewith, 'mid days of toil and pain,
+  With sick and sinking hearts ye strive
+  To cheat yourselves that ye may live
+  With cold death ever close at hand;
+  Think rather of a peaceful land,
+  The changeless land where ye may be
+  Roofed over by the changeful sea.
+
+      ORPHEUS.
+
+    And is the fair town nothing then,
+  The coming of the wandering men
+  With that long talked of thing and strange,
+  And news of how the kingdoms change;
+  The pointed hands, and wondering
+  At doers of a desperate thing?
+  Push on, for surely this shall be
+  Across a narrow strip of sea.
+
+      THE SIRENS.
+
+    Alas! poor souls and timorous,
+  Will ye draw nigh to gaze at us
+  And see if we are fair indeed,
+  For such as we shall be your meed,
+  There, where our hearts would have you go.
+  And where can the earth-dwellers show
+  In any land such loveliness
+  As that wherewith your eyes we bless,
+  O wanderers of the Minyae,
+  Worn toilers over land and sea?
+
+      ORPHEUS.
+
+    Fair as the lightning thwart the sky,
+  As sun-dyed snow upon the high
+  Untrodden heaps of threatening stone
+  The eagle looks upon alone,
+  O fair as the doomed victim's wreath,
+  O fair as deadly sleep and death,
+  What will ye with them, earthly men,
+  To mate your three-score years and ten?
+  Toil rather, suffer and be free,
+  Betwixt the green earth and the sea.
+
+       THE SIRENS.
+
+    If ye be bold with us to go,
+  Things such as happy dreams may show
+  Shall your once heavy eyes behold
+  About our palaces of gold;
+  Where waters 'neath the waters run,
+  And from o'erhead a harmless sun
+  Gleams through the woods of chrysolite.
+  There gardens fairer to the sight
+  Than those of the Phaeacian king
+  Shall ye behold; and, wondering,
+  Gaze on the sea-born fruit and flowers,
+  And thornless and unchanging bowers,
+  Whereof the May-time knoweth nought.
+    So to the pillared house being brought,
+  Poor souls, ye shall not be alone,
+  For o'er the floors of pale blue stone
+  All day such feet as ours shall pass,
+  And, 'twixt the glimmering walls of glass,
+  Such bodies garlanded with gold,
+  So faint, so fair, shall ye behold,
+  And clean forget the treachery
+  Of changing earth and tumbling sea.
+
+      ORPHEUS.
+
+    O the sweet valley of deep grass,
+  Where-through the summer stream doth pass,
+  In chain of shallow, and still pool,
+  From misty morn to evening cool;
+  Where the black ivy creeps and twines
+  O'er the dark-armed, red-trunked pines,
+  Whence clattering the pigeon flits,
+  Or, brooding o'er her thin eggs, sits,
+  And every hollow of the hills
+  With echoing song the mavis fills.
+  There by the stream, all unafraid,
+  Shall stand the happy shepherd maid,
+  Alone in first of sunlit hours;
+  Behind her, on the dewy flowers,
+  Her homespun woollen raiment lies,
+  And her white limbs and sweet grey eyes
+  Shine from the calm green pool and deep,
+  While round about the swallows sweep,
+  Not silent; and would God that we,
+  Like them, were landed from the sea.
+
+      THE SIRENS.
+
+    Shall we not rise with you at night,
+  Up through the shimmering green twilight,
+  That maketh there our changeless day,
+  Then going through the moonlight grey,
+  Shall we not sit upon these sands,
+  To think upon the troublous lands
+  Long left behind, where once ye were,
+  When every day brought change and fear?
+  There, with white arms about you twined,
+  And shuddering somewhat at the wind
+  That ye rejoiced erewhile to meet,
+  Be happy, while old stories sweet,
+  Half understood, float round your ears,
+  And fill your eyes with happy tears.
+    Ah! while we sing unto you there,
+  As now we sing, with yellow hair
+  Blown round about these pearly limbs,
+  While underneath the grey sky swims
+  The light shell-sailor of the waves,
+  And to our song, from sea-filled caves
+  Booms out an echoing harmony,
+  Shall ye not love the peaceful sea?
+
+      ORPHEUS.
+
+    Nigh the vine-covered hillocks green,
+  In days agone, have I not seen
+  The brown-clad maidens amorous,
+  Below the long rose-trellised house,
+  Dance to the querulous pipe and shrill,
+  When the grey shadow of the hill
+  Was lengthening at the end of day?
+  Not shadowy nor pale were they,
+  But limbed like those who 'twixt the trees,
+  Follow the swift of Goddesses.
+  Sunburnt they are somewhat, indeed,
+  To where the rough brown woollen weed
+  Is drawn across their bosoms sweet,
+  Or cast from off their dancing feet;
+  But yet the stars, the moonlight grey,
+  The water wan, the dawn of day,
+  Can see their bodies fair and white
+  As Hers, who once, for man's delight,
+  Before the world grew hard and old,
+  Came o'er the bitter sea and cold;
+  And surely those that met me there,
+  Her handmaidens and subjects were;
+  And shame-faced, half-repressed desire
+  Had lit their glorious eyes with fire,
+  That maddens eager hearts of men.
+  O would that I were with them when
+  The new-risen moon is gathering light,
+  And yellow from the homestead white
+  The windows gleam; but verily
+  This waits us o'er a little sea.
+
+      THE SIRENS.
+
+    Come to the land where none grows old,
+  And none is rash or over-bold,
+  Nor any noise there is nor war,
+  Nor rumour from wild lands afar,
+  Nor plagues, nor birth and death of kings;
+  No vain desire of unknown things
+  Shall vex you there, no hope or fear
+  Of that which never draweth near;
+  But in that lovely land and still
+  Ye may remember what ye will,
+  And what ye will, forget for aye.
+    So while the kingdoms pass away,
+  Ye sea-beat hardened toilers erst,
+  Unresting, for vain fame athirst,
+  Shall be at peace for evermore,
+  With hearts fulfilled of Godlike lore,
+  And calm, unwavering Godlike love,
+  No lapse of time can turn or move.
+  There, ages after your fair Fleece
+  Is clean forgotten, yea, and Greece
+  Is no more counted glorious,
+  Alone with us, alone with us,
+  Alone with us, dwell happily,
+  Beneath our trembling roof of sea.
+
+      ORPHEUS.
+
+    Ah! do ye weary of the strife
+  And long to change this eager life
+  For shadowy and dull hopelessness,
+  Thinking indeed to gain no less
+  Than far from this grey light to lie,
+  And there to die and not to die,
+  To be as if ye ne'er had been,
+  Yet keep your memory fresh and green,
+  To have no thought of good or ill,
+  Yet feed your fill or pleasure still?
+  O idle dream! Ah, verily
+  If it shall happen unto me
+  That I have thought of anything,
+  When o'er my bones the sea-fowl sing,
+  And I lie dead, how shall I pine
+  For those fresh joys that once were mine,
+  On this green fount of joy and mirth,
+  The ever young and glorious earth;
+  Then, helpless, shall I call to mind
+  Thoughts of the sweet flower-scented wind,
+  The dew, the gentle rain at night,
+  The wonder-working snow and white.
+  The song of birds, the water's fall,
+  The sun that maketh bliss of all;
+  Yea, this our toil and victory,
+  The tyrannous and conquered sea.
+
+      THE SIRENS.
+
+  Ah, will ye go, and whither then
+    Will ye go from us, soon to die,
+  To fill your three-score years and ten,
+    With many an unnamed misery?
+
+  And this the wretchedest of all,
+    That when upon your lonely eyes
+  The last faint heaviness shall fall
+    Ye shall bethink you of our cries.
+
+  Come back, nor grown old, seek in vain
+    To hear us sing across the sea.
+  Come back, come back, come back again,
+    Come back, O fearful Minyae!
+
+      ORPHEUS.
+
+  Ah, once again, ah, once again,
+    The black prow plunges through the sea,
+  Nor yet shall all your toil be vain,
+    Nor yet forgot, O Minyae.
+
+    In such wise sang the Thracian, in such wise
+  Out gushed the Sirens' deadly melodies;
+  But long before the mingled song was done,
+  Back to the oars the Minyae, one by one,
+  Slunk silently; though many an one sighed sore,
+  As his strong fingers met the wood once more,
+  And from his breast the toilsome breathing came.
+    But as they laboured, some for very shame
+  Hung down their heads, and yet amongst them some
+  Gazed at the place whence that sweet song had come;
+  But round the oars and Argo's shielded side
+  The sea grew white, and she began to glide
+  Swift through the waters of that deadly bay;
+  But when a long wake now behind her lay,
+  And still the whistle of the wind increased,
+  Past shroud and mast, and all the song had ceased,
+  Butes rose up, the fair Athenian man,
+  And with wild eyes betwixt the rowers ran
+  Unto the poop and leapt into the sea;
+  Then all men rested on their oars, but he
+  Rose to the top, and towards the shore swam fast;
+  While all eyes watched him, who had well-nigh past
+  The place where sand and water 'gan to meet
+  In wreaths and ripples round the ivory feet,
+  When sun-burnt swimmer, snow-white glancing limb,
+  And yellow sand unto their eyes grew dim,
+  Nor did they see their fellow any more.
+    But when they once again beheld the shore
+  The wind sung o'er the empty beach and bare,
+  And by the cliff uprose into the air
+  A delicate and glittering little cloud,
+  That seemed some many-coloured sun to shroud;
+  But as the rugged cliff it drew above
+  The wondering Minyae beheld it move
+  Westward, toward Lilybaeum and the sun.
+    Then once more was their seaward course begun,
+  And soon those deadly sands were far astern,
+  Nor ever after could the heroes learn
+  If Butes lived or died; but old tales tell
+  That while the tumbling waves he breasted well,
+  Venus beheld him, as unseen she drew
+  From sunny Cyprus to the headland blue
+  Of Lilybaeum, where her temple is;
+  She, with a mind his sun-burnt brows to kiss,
+  E'en as his feet were dropping nigh the beach,
+  And ere his hand the deadly hands could reach,
+  Stooped, as the merlin stoops upon the dove,
+  And snatched him thence to be awhile her love,
+  Betwixt the golden pillars of her shrine,
+  That those who pass the Aegades see shine
+  From high-raised Lilybaeum o'er the sea.
+
+    But far away the sea-beat Minyae
+  Cast forth the foam, as through the growing night
+  They laboured ever, having small delight
+  In life all empty of that promised bliss,
+  In love that scarce can give a dying kiss,
+  In pleasure ending sweet songs with a wail,
+  In fame that little can dead men avail,
+  In vain toil struggling with the fateful stream,
+  In hope, the promise of a morning dream.
+    Yet as night died, and the cold sea and grey
+  Seemed running with them toward the dawn of day,
+  Needs must they once again forget their death,
+  Needs must they, being alive and drawing breath,
+  As men who of no other life can know
+  In their own minds again immortal grow.
+    But toward the south a little now they bent,
+  And for a while o'er landless sea they went,
+  But on the third day made another land
+  At dawn of day, and thitherward did stand;
+  And since the wind blew lightly from the shore,
+  Somewhat abeam, they feared not with the oar
+  To push across the shallowing sea and green,
+  That washed a land the fairest they had seen,
+  Whose shell-strewn beach at highest of the tide
+  'Twixt sea and flowery shore was nowise wide,
+  And drawn a little backward from the sea
+  There stood a marble wall wrought cunningly,
+  Rosy and white, set thick with images,
+  And over-topped with heavy-fruited trees,
+  Which by the shore ran, as the bay did bend,
+  And to their eyes had neither gap nor end;
+  Nor any gate: and looking over this,
+  They saw a place not made for earthly bliss,
+  Or eyes of dying men, for growing there
+  The yellow apple and the painted pear,
+  And well-filled golden cups of oranges
+  Hung amid groves of pointed cypress trees;
+  On grassy slopes the twining vine-boughs grew,
+  And hoary olives 'twixt far mountains blue,
+  And many-coloured flowers, like as a cloud
+  The rugged southern cliffs did softly shroud;
+  And many a green-necked bird sung to his mate
+  Within the slim-leaved, thorny pomegranate,
+  That flung its unstrung rubies on the grass,
+  And slowly o'er the place the wind did pass
+  Heavy with many odours that it bore
+  From thymy hills down to the sea-beat shore,
+  Because no flower there is, that all the year,
+  From spring to autumn, beareth otherwhere,
+  But there it flourished; nor the fruit alone
+  From 'twixt the green leaves and the boughs outshone,
+  For there each tree was ever flowering.
+    Nor was there lacking many a living thing
+  Changed of its nature; for the roebuck there
+  Walked fearless with the tiger; and the bear
+  Rolled sleepily upon the fruit-strawn grass,
+  Letting the conies o'er his rough hide pass,
+  With blinking eyes, that meant no treachery.
+  Careless the partridge passed the red fox by;
+  Untouched the serpent left the thrushes brown,
+  And as a picture was the lion's frown.
+    But in the midst there was a grassy space,
+  Raised somewhat over all the flowery place,
+  On marble terrace-walls wrought like a dream;
+  And round about it ran a clear blue stream,
+  Bridged o'er with marble steps, and midmost there
+  Grew a green tree, whose smooth grey boughs did bear
+  Such fruit as never man elsewhere had seen,
+  For 'twixt the sunlight and the shadow green
+  Shone out fair apples of red gleaming gold.
+  Moreover round the tree, in many a fold,
+  Lay coiled a dragon, glittering little less
+  Than that which his eternal watchfulness
+  Was set to guard; nor yet was he alone,
+  For from the daisied grass about him shone
+  Gold raiment wrapping round two damsels fair,
+  And one upon the steps combed out her hair,
+  And with shut eyes sung low as in a dream;
+  And one stood naked in the cold blue stream,
+  While on the bank her golden raiment lay;
+  But on that noontide of the quivering day,
+  She only, hearing the seafarers' shout,
+  Her lovely golden head had turned about,
+  And seen their white sail flapping o'er the wall,
+  And as she turned had let her tresses fall,
+  Which the thin water rippling round her knee
+  Bore outward from her toward the restless sea.
+    Not long she stood, but looking seaward yet,
+  From out the water made good haste to get,
+  And catching up her raiment hastily,
+  Ran up the marble stair, and 'gan to cry:
+  "Wake, O my sisters, wake, for now are come
+  The thieves of Aea to our peaceful home."
+    Then at her voice they gat them to their feet,
+  And when her raiment all her body sweet
+  Once more had hidden, joining hand to hand,
+  About the sacred apples did they stand,
+  While coiled the dragon closer to the tree,
+  And raised his head above them threateningly.
+
+    Meanwhile, from Argo many a sea-beat face
+  Gazed longingly upon that lovely place,
+  And some their eager hands already laid
+  Upon the gangway. Then Medea said:--
+  "Get back unto the oars, O Minyae,
+  Nor loiter here, for what have such as we
+  To do herein, where, 'mid undying trees,
+  Undying watch the wise Hesperides,
+  And where the while they watch, scarce can a God
+  Set foot upon the fruit-besprinkled sod
+  That no snow ever covers? therefore haste,
+  Nor yet in wondering your fair lives waste;
+  For these are as the Gods, nor think of us,
+  Nor to their eyes can aught be glorious
+  That son of man can do; would God that I
+  Could see far off the misty headland lie,
+  Where we the guilt of blood shall wash away,
+  For I grow weary of the dashing spray,
+  And ceaseless roll of interwoven seas,
+  And fain were sitting 'neath the whispering trees
+  In homely places, where the children play,
+  Who change like me, grow old, and die some day."
+    She ceased, and little soothly did they grieve,
+  For all its loveliness, that land to leave,
+  For now some God had chilled their hardihead,
+  And in their hearts had set a sacred dread,
+  They knew not why; but on their oars they hung,
+  A little longer as the sisters sung.
+
+        "O ye, who to this place have strayed,
+      That never for man's eyes was made,
+      Depart in haste, as ye have come,
+      And bear back to your sea-beat home
+      This memory of the age of gold,
+      And for your eyes, grown over-bold,
+      Your hearts shall pay in sorrowing,
+      For want of many a half-seen thing.
+
+        "Lo, such as is this garden green,
+      In days past, all the world has been,
+      And what we know all people knew,
+      Save this, that unto worse all grew.
+        "But since the golden age is gone,
+      This little place is left alone,
+      Unchanged, unchanging, watched of us,
+      The daughters of wise Hesperus.
+        "Surely the heavenly Messenger
+      Full oft is fain to enter here,
+      And yet without must he abide;
+      Nor longeth less the dark king's bride
+      To set red lips unto that fruit
+      That erst made nought her mother's suit.
+      Here would Diana rest awhile,
+      Forgetful of her woodland guile,
+      Among these beasts that fear her nought.
+      Nor is it less in Pallas' thought,
+      Beneath our trees to ponder o'er
+      The wide, unfathomed sea of lore;
+      And oft-kissed Citheraea, no less
+      Weary of love, full fain would press
+      These flowers with soft unsandalled feet.
+
+        "But unto us our rest is sweet,
+      Neither shall any man or God
+      Or lovely Goddess touch the sod
+      Where-under old times buried lie,
+      Before the world knew misery.
+      Nor will we have a slave or king,
+      Nor yet will we learn anything
+      But that we know, that makes us glad;
+      While oft the very Gods are sad
+      With knowing what the Fates shall do.
+        "Neither from us shall wisdom go
+      To fill the hungering hearts of men,
+      Lest to them threescore years and ten
+      Come but to seem a little day,
+      Once given, and taken soon away.
+      Nay, rather let them find their life
+      Bitter and sweet, fulfilled of strife,
+      Restless with hope, vain with regret,
+      Trembling with fear, most strangely set
+      'Twixt memory and forgetfulness;
+      So more shall joy be, troubles less,
+      And surely when all this is past,
+      They shall not want their rest at last.
+
+        "Let earth and heaven go on their way,
+      While still we watch from day to day,
+      In this green place left all alone,
+      A remnant of the days long gone."
+
+    There in the wind they hung, as word by word
+  The clear-voiced singers silently they heard;
+  But when the air was barren of their song,
+  Anigh the shore they durst not linger long,
+  So northward turned forewearied Argo's head,
+  And dipping oars, from that fair country sped,
+  Fulfilled of new desires and pensive thought,
+  Which that day's life unto their hearts had brought.
+    Then hard they toiled upon the bitter sea,
+  And in two days they did not fail to be
+  In sight of land, a headland high and blue
+  Which straight Milesian Erginus knew
+  To be the fateful place which now they sought,
+  Stormy Malea, so thitherward they brought
+  The groaning ship, and, casting anchor, lay
+  Beneath that headland's lee, within a bay,
+  Wherefrom the more part landed, and their feet
+  Once more the happy soil of Greece did meet.
+    Therewith they failed not to bring ashore
+  Rich robes of price and of fair arms good store,
+  And gold and silver, that they there might buy
+  What yet they lacked for their solemnity;
+  Then, while upon the highest point of land
+  Some built an altar, Jason, with a band
+  Of all the chiefest of the Minyae,
+  Turned inland from the murmur of the sea.
+    Not far they went ere by a little stream
+  Down in a valley they could see the gleam
+  Of brazen pillars and fair-gilded vanes,
+  And, dropping down by dank dark-wooded lanes
+  From off the hill-side, reached a house at last
+  Where in and out men-slaves and women passed,
+  And guests were streaming fast into the hall,
+  Where now the oaken boards were laid for all.
+  With these the Minyae went, and soon they were
+  Within a pillared hall both great and fair,
+  Where folk already sat beside the board,
+  And on the dais was an ancient lord.
+    But when these saw the fearless Minyae
+  Glittering in arms, they sprang up hastily,
+  And each man turned about unto the wall
+  To seize his spear or staff: then through the hall
+  Jason cried out: "Laconians, fear ye not,
+  Nor leave the flesh-meat while it reeketh hot
+  For dread of us, for we are men as ye,
+  And I am Jason of the Minyae,
+  And come from Aea to the land of Greece,
+  And in my ship bear back the Golden Fleece,
+  And a fair Colchian queen to fill my bed.
+  And now we pray to share your wine and bread,
+  And other things we need, and at our hands
+  That ye will take fair things of many lands."
+    "Sirs," said the ancient lord, "be welcome here,
+  Come up and sit by me, and make such cheer
+  As here ye can: glad am I that to me
+  The first of Grecian men from off the sea
+  Ye now are come."
+                    Therewith the great hall rang
+  With joyful shouts, and as, with clash and clang
+  Of well-wrought arms, up to the dais they went,
+  All eyes upon the Minyae were bent,
+  Nor could they have enough of wondering
+  At this or that sea-tossed victorious king.
+    So with the strangers there they held high feast,
+  And afterwards the slaves drove many a beast
+  Down to the shore, and carried back again
+  Great store of precious things in pack and wain;
+  Wrought gold and silver, gems, full many a bale
+  Of scarlet cloth, and fine silk, fit to veil
+  The perfect limbs of dreaded Goddesses;
+  Spices fresh-gathered from the outland trees,
+  And arms well-wrought, and precious scarce-known wine,
+  And carven images well-nigh divine.
+    So when all folk with these were satisfied,
+  Back went the Minyae to the water-side,
+  And with them that old lord, fain to behold
+  Victorious Argo and the Fleece of Gold.
+  And so aboard amid the oars he lay
+  Throughout the night, and at the dawn of day
+  Did all men land, nor spared that day to wear
+  The best of all they had of gold-wrought gear,
+  And every one, being crowned with olive grey,
+  Up to the headland did they take their way,
+  Where now already stood the crowned priests
+  About the altars by the gilt-horned beasts.
+  There, as the fair sun rose, did Jason break
+  Over the altar the thin barley-cake,
+  And cast the salt abroad, and there were slain
+  The milk-white bulls, and there red wine did rain
+  On to the fire from out the ancient jar,
+  And high rose up the red flame, seen afar
+  From many another headland of that shore:
+  But over all its crackling and its roar
+  Uprose from time to time a joyous song,
+  That on the summer morning lay for long,
+  The mighty voices of the Minyae
+  Exulting o'er the tossing conquered sea,
+  That far below thrust on by tide and wind
+  The crumbling bases of the headland mined.
+
+
+
+
+  FROM
+
+  "THE EARTHLY PARADISE."
+
+  AN APOLOGY.
+
+
+  Of Heaven or Hell I have no power to sing,
+  I cannot ease the burden of your fears,
+  Or make quick-coming death a little thing,
+  Or bring again the pleasure of past years,
+  Nor for my words shall ye forget your tears,
+  Or hope again for aught that I can say,
+  The idle singer of an empty day.
+
+    But rather, when aweary of your mirth,
+  From full hearts still unsatisfied ye sigh,
+  And, feeling kindly unto all the earth,
+  Grudge every minute as it passes by,
+  Made the more mindful that the sweet days die--
+  --Remember me a little then I pray,
+  The idle singer of an empty day.
+
+    The heavy trouble, the bewildering care
+  That weighs us down who live and earn our bread,
+  These idle verses have no power to bear;
+  So let me sing of names remembered,
+  Because they, living not, can ne'er be dead,
+  Or long time take their memory quite away
+  From us poor singers of an empty day.
+
+    Dreamer of dreams, born out of my due time,
+  Why should I strive to set the crooked straight?
+  Let it suffice me that my murmuring rhyme
+  Beats with light wing against the ivory gate,
+  Telling a tale not too importunate
+  To those who in the sleepy region stay,
+  Lulled by the singer of an empty day.
+
+    Folk say, a wizard to a northern king
+  At Christmas-tide such wondrous things did show,
+  That through one window men beheld the spring,
+  And through another saw the summer glow,
+  And through a third the fruited vines a-row,
+  While still, unheard, but in its wonted way,
+  Piped the drear wind of that December day.
+
+    So with this Earthly Paradise it is,
+  If ye will read aright, and pardon me,
+  Who strive to build a shadowy isle of bliss
+  Midmost the beating of the steely sea,
+  Where tossed about all hearts of men must be:
+  Whose ravening monsters mighty men shall slay,
+  Not the poor singer of an empty day.
+
+
+
+
+  FROM
+
+  PROLOGUE--THE WANDERERS.
+
+  ARGUMENT.
+
+Certain gentlemen and mariners of Norway, having considered all that
+they had heard of the Earthly Paradise, set sail to find it, and after
+many troubles and the lapse of many years came old men to some Western
+land, of which they had never before heard: there they died, when they
+had dwelt there certain years, much honoured of the strange people.
+
+
+  Forget six counties overhung with smoke,
+  Forget the snorting steam and piston stroke,
+  Forget the spreading of the hideous town;
+  Think rather of the pack-horse on the down,
+  And dream of London, small, and white, and clean,
+  The clear Thames bordered by its gardens green;
+  Think, that below bridge the green lapping waves
+  Smite some few keels that bear Levantine staves,
+  Cut from the yew wood on the burnt-up hill,
+  And pointed jars that Greek hands toiled to fill,
+  And treasured scanty spice from some far sea,
+  Florence gold cloth, and Ypres napery,
+  And cloth of Bruges, and hogsheads of Guienne;
+  While nigh the thronged wharf Geoffrey Chaucer's pen
+  Moves over bills of lading--mid such times
+  Shall dwell the hollow puppets of my rhymes.
+
+    A nameless city in a distant sea,
+  White as the changing walls of faerie,
+  Thronged with much people clad in ancient guise
+  I now am fain to set before your eyes;
+  There, leave the clear green water and the quays,
+  And pass betwixt its marble palaces,
+  Until ye come unto the chiefest square;
+  A bubbling conduit is set midmost there,
+  And round about it now the maidens throng,
+  With jest and laughter, and sweet broken song,
+  Making but light of labour new begun
+  While in their vessels gleams the morning sun.
+    On one side of the square a temple stands,
+  Wherein the gods worshipped in ancient lands
+  Still have their altars, a great market-place
+  Upon two other sides fills all the space,
+  And thence the busy hum of men comes forth;
+  But on the cold side looking toward the north
+  A pillared council-house may you behold,
+  Within whose porch are images of gold,
+  Gods of the nations who dwelt anciently
+  About the borders of the Grecian sea.
+
+    Pass now between them, push the brazen door,
+  And standing on the polished marble floor
+  Leave all the noises of the square behind;
+  Most calm that reverent chamber shall ye find,
+  Silent at first, but for the noise you made
+  When on the brazen door your hand you laid
+  To shut it after you--but now behold
+  The city rulers on their thrones of gold,
+  Clad in most fair attire, and in their hands
+  Long carven silver-banded ebony wands;
+  Then from the dais drop your eyes and see
+  Soldiers and peasants standing reverently
+  Before those elders, round a little band
+  Who bear such arms as guard the English land,
+  But battered, rent, and rusted sore, and they,
+  The men themselves, are shrivelled, bent, and grey;
+  And as they lean with pain upon their spears
+  Their brows seem furrowed deep with more than years;
+  For sorrow dulls their heavy sunken eyes,
+  Bent are they less with time than miseries.
+
+    Pondering on them the city grey-beards gaze
+  Through kindly eyes, midst thoughts of other days,
+  And pity for poor souls, and vague regret
+  For all the things that might have happened yet,
+  Until, their wonder gathering to a head,
+  The wisest man, who long that land has led,
+  Breaks the deep silence, unto whom again
+  A wanderer answers. Slowly as in pain,
+  And with a hollow voice as from a tomb
+  At first he tells the story of his doom,
+  But as it grows and once more hopes and fears,
+  Both measureless, are ringing round his ears,
+  His eyes grow bright, his seeming days decrease,
+  For grief once told brings somewhat back of peace.
+
+        THE ELDER OF THE CITY.
+
+    From what unheard-of world, in what strange keel,
+  Have ye come hither to our commonweal?
+  No barbarous race, as these our peasants say,
+  But learned in memories of a long-past day,
+  Speaking, some few at least, the ancient tongue
+  That through the lapse of ages still has clung
+  To us, the seed of the Ionian race.
+    Speak out and fear not; if ye need a place
+  Wherein to pass the end of life away,
+  That shall ye gain from us from this same day,
+  Unless the enemies of God ye are;
+  We fear not you and yours to bear us war,
+  And scarce can think that ye will try again
+  Across the perils of the shifting plain
+  To seek your own land whereso that may be:
+  For folk of ours bearing the memory
+  Of our old land, in days past oft have striven
+  To reach it, unto none of whom was given
+  To come again and tell us of the tale,
+  Therefore our ships are now content to sail,
+  About these happy islands that we know.
+
+
+      THE WANDERER.
+
+    Masters, I have to tell a tale of woe,
+  A tale of folly and of wasted life,
+  Hope against hope, the bitter dregs of strife,
+  Ending, where all things end, in death at last:
+  So if I tell the story of the past,
+  Let it be worth some little rest, I pray,
+  A little slumber ere the end of day.
+
+    No wonder if the Grecian tongue I know,
+  Since at Byzantium many a year ago
+  My father bore the twibil valiantly;
+  There did he marry, and get me, and die,
+  And I went back to Norway to my kin,
+  Long ere this beard ye see did first begin
+  To shade my mouth, but nathless not before
+  Among the Greeks I gathered some small lore,
+  And standing midst the Vaeringers, still heard
+  From this or that man many a wondrous word;
+  For ye shall know that though we worshipped God,
+  And heard mass duly, still of Swithiod
+  The Greater, Odin and his house of gold,
+  The noble stories ceased not to be told;
+  These moved me more than words of mine can say
+  E'en while at Micklegarth my folks did stay;
+  But when I reached one dying autumn-tide
+  My uncle's dwelling near the forest side,
+  And saw the land so scanty and so bare,
+  And all the hard things men contend with there,
+  A little and unworthy land it seemed,
+  And yet the more of Asagard I dreamed,
+  And worthier seemed the ancient faith of praise.
+
+    But now, but now--when one of all those days
+  Like Lazarus' finger on my heart should be
+  Breaking the fiery fixed eternity,
+  But for one moment--could I see once more
+  The grey-roofed sea-port sloping towards the shore,
+  Or note the brown boats standing in from sea,
+  Or the great dromond swinging from the quay,
+  Or in the beech-woods watch the screaming jay
+  Shoot up betwixt the tall trunks, smooth and grey--
+  Yea, could I see the days before distress
+  When very longing was but happiness.
+
+    Within our house there was a Breton squire
+  Well learned, who fail'd not to fan the fire
+  That evermore unholpen burned in me
+  Strange lands and things beyond belief to see;
+  Much lore of many lands this Breton knew;
+  And for one tale I told, he told me two.
+  He, counting Asagard a new-told thing,
+  Yet spoke of gardens ever blossoming
+  Across the western sea where none grew old,
+  E'en as the books at Micklegarth had told,
+  And said moreover that an English knight
+  Had had the Earthly Paradise in sight,
+  And heard the songs of those that dwelt therein.
+  But entered not, being hindered by his sin.
+  Shortly, so much of this and that he said
+  That in my heart the sharp barb entered,
+  And like real life would empty stories seem,
+  And life from day to day an empty dream.
+
+    Another man there was, a Swabian priest,
+  Who knew the maladies of man and beast,
+  And what things helped them; he the stone still sought
+  Whereby base metal into gold is brought,
+  And strove to gain the precious draught, whereby
+  Men live midst mortal men yet never die;
+  Tales of the Kaiser Redbeard could he tell
+  Who neither went to Heaven nor yet to Hell,
+  When from that fight upon the Asian plain
+  He vanished, but still lives to come again
+  Men know not how or when; but I listening
+  Unto this tale thought it a certain thing
+  That in some hidden vale of Swithiod
+  Across the golden pavement still he trod.
+
+    But while our longing for such things so grew,
+  And ever more and more we deemed them true,
+  Upon the land a pestilence there fell
+  Unheard of yet in any chronicle,
+  And, as the people died full fast of it,
+  With these two men it chanced me once to sit,
+  This learned squire whose name was Nicholas,
+  And Swabian Laurence, as our manner was;
+  For could we help it scarcely did we part
+  From dawn to dusk: so heavy, sad at heart,
+  We from the castle-yard beheld the bay
+  Upon that ne'er-to-be-forgotten day,
+  Little we said amidst that dreary mood,
+  And certes nought that we could say was good.
+
+    It was a bright September afternoon,
+  The parched-up beech-trees would be yellowing soon
+  The yellow flowers grown deeper with the sun
+  Were letting fall their petals one by one;
+  No wind there was, a haze was gathering o'er
+  The furthest bound of the faint yellow shore;
+  And in the oily waters of the bay
+  Scarce moving aught some fisher-cobles lay,
+  And all seemed peace; and had been peace indeed
+  But that we young men of our life had need,
+  And to our listening ears a sound was borne
+  That made the sunlight wretched and forlorn--
+  --The heavy tolling of the minster bell--
+  And nigher yet a tinkling sound did tell
+  That through the streets they bore our Saviour Christ
+  By dying lips in anguish to be kissed.
+
+    At last spoke Nicholas, "How long shall we
+  Abide here, looking forth into the sea
+  Expecting when our turn shall come to die?
+  Fair fellows, will ye come with me and try
+  Now at our worst that long-desired quest,
+  Now--when our worst is death, and life our best."
+    "Nay, but thou know'st," I said, "that I but wait
+  The coming of some man, the turn of fate,
+  To make this voyage--but I die meanwhile,
+  For I am poor, though my blood be not vile,
+  Nor yet for all his lore doth Laurence hold
+  Within his crucibles aught like to gold;
+  And what hast thou, whose father driven forth
+  By Charles of Blois, found shelter in the North?
+  But little riches as I needs must deem."
+    "Well," said he, "things are better than they seem,
+  For 'neath my bed an iron chest I have
+  That holdeth things I have made shift to save
+  E'en for this end; moreover, hark to this,
+  In the next firth a fair long ship there is
+  Well victualled, ready even now for sea,
+  And I may say it 'longeth unto me;
+  Since Marcus Erling, late its owner, lies
+  Dead at the end of many miseries,
+  And little Kirstin, as thou well mayst know,
+  Would be content throughout the world to go
+  If I but took her hand, and now still more
+  Hath heart to leave this poor death-stricken shore.
+  Therefore my gold shall buy us Bordeaux swords
+  And Bordeaux wine as we go oceanwards.
+    "What say ye, will ye go with me to-night,
+  Setting your faces to undreamed delight,
+  Turning your backs unto this troublous hell,
+  Or is the time too short to say farewell?"
+
+    "Not so," I said, "rather would I depart
+  Now while thou speakest, never has my heart
+  Been set on anything within this land."
+    Then said the Swabian, "Let us now take hand
+  And swear to follow evermore this quest
+  Till death or life have set our hearts at rest."
+
+    So with joined hands we swore, and Nicholas said,
+  "To-night, fair friends, be ye apparelled
+  To leave this land, bring all the arms ye can
+  And such men as ye trust, my own good man
+  Guards the small postern looking towards St. Bride,
+  And good it were ye should not be espied,
+  Since mayhap freely ye should not go hence,
+  Thou Rolf in special, for this pestilence
+  Makes all men hard and cruel, nor are they
+  Willing that folk should 'scape if they must stay:
+  Be wise; I bid you for a while farewell,
+  Leave ye this stronghold when St. Peter's bell
+  Strikes midnight, all will surely then be still,
+  And I will bide you at King Tryggve's hill
+  Outside the city gates."
+                           Each went his way
+  Therewith, and I the remnant of that day
+  Gained for the quest three men that I deemed true,
+  And did such other things as I must do,
+  And still was ever listening for the chime
+  Half maddened by the lazy lapse of time,
+  Yea, scarce I thought indeed that I should live
+  Till the great tower the joyful sound should give
+  That set us free: and so the hours went past,
+  Till startled by the echoing clang at last
+  That told of midnight, armed from head to heel
+  Down to the open postern did I steal,
+  Bearing small wealth--this sword that yet hangs here
+  Worn thin and narrow with so many a year,
+  My father's axe that from Byzantium,
+  With some few gems my pouch yet held, had come,
+  Nought else that shone with silver or with gold.
+    But by the postern gate could I behold
+  Laurence the priest all armed as if for war,
+  From off the town-wall, having some small store
+  Of arms and furs and raiment: then once more
+  I turned, and saw the autumn moonlight fall
+  Upon the new-built bastions of the wall,
+  Strange with black shadow and grey flood of light,
+  And further off I saw the lead shine bright
+  On tower and turret-roof against the sky,
+  And looking down I saw the old town lie
+  Black in the shade of the o'er-hanging hill,
+  Stricken with death, and dreary, but all still
+  Until it reached the water of the bay,
+  That in the dead night smote against the quay
+  Not all unheard, though there was little wind.
+  But as I turned to leave the place behind,
+  The wind's light sound, the slowly falling swell,
+  Were hushed at once by that shrill-tinkling bell,
+  That in that stillness jarring on mine ears,
+  With sudden jangle checked the rising tears,
+  And now the freshness of the open sea
+  Seemed ease and joy and very life to me.
+    So greeting my new mates with little sound,
+  We made good haste to reach King Tryggve's mound,
+  And there the Breton Nicholas beheld,
+  Who by the hand fair Kirstin Erling held,
+  And round about them twenty men there stood,
+  Of whom the more part on the holy rood
+  Were sworn till death to follow up the quest,
+  And Kirstin was the mistress of the rest.
+    Again betwixt us was there little speech,
+  But swiftly did we set on toward the beach,
+  And coming there our keel, the Fighting Man,
+  We boarded, and the long oars out we ran,
+  And swept from out the firth, and sped so well
+  That scarcely could we hear St. Peter's bell
+  Toll one, although the light wind blew from land;
+  Then hoisting sail southward we 'gan to stand,
+  And much I joyed beneath the moon to see
+  The lessening land that might have been to me
+  A kindly giver of wife, child, and friend,
+  And happy life, or at the worser end
+  A quiet grave till doomsday rend the earth.
+
+  Night passed, day dawned, and we grew full of mirth
+  As with the ever-rising morning wind
+  Still further lay our threatened death behind,
+  Or so we thought: some eighty men we were,
+  Of whom but fifty knew the shipman's gear,
+  The rest were uplanders; midst such of these
+  As knew not of our quest, with promises
+  Went Nicholas dealing florins round about,
+  With still a fresh tale for each new man's doubt,
+  Till all were fairly won or seemed to be
+  To that strange desperate voyage o'er the sea.
+
+
+
+
+  OGIER THE DANE.
+
+  ARGUMENT.
+
+When Ogier was born, six fay ladies came to the cradle where he lay, and
+gave him various gifts, as to be brave and happy and the like; but the
+sixth gave him to be her love when he should have lived long in the
+world: so Ogier grew up and became the greatest of knights, and at last,
+after many years, fell into the hands of that fay, and with her, as the
+story tells, he lives now, though he returned once to the world, as is
+shown in the process of this tale.
+
+
+  Within some Danish city by the sea,
+  Whose name, changed now, is all unknown to me,
+  Great mourning was there one fair summer eve,
+  Because the angels, bidden to receive
+  The fair Queen's lovely soul in Paradise,
+  Had done their bidding, and in royal guise
+  Her helpless body, once the prize of love,
+  Unable now for fear or hope to move,
+  Lay underneath the golden canopy;
+  And bowed down by unkingly misery
+  The King sat by it, and not far away,
+  Within the chamber a fair man-child lay,
+  His mother's bane, the king that was to be,
+  Not witting yet of any royalty,
+  Harmless and loved, although so new to life.
+
+    Calm the June evening was, no sign of strife
+  The clear sky showed, no storm grew round the sun,
+  Unhappy that his day of bliss was done;
+  Dumb was the sea, and if the beech-wood stirred,
+  'Twas with the nestling of the grey-winged bird
+  Midst its thick leaves; and though the nightingale
+  Her ancient, hapless sorrow must bewail,
+  No more of woe there seemed in her song
+  Than such as doth to lovers' words belong,
+  Because their love is still unsatisfied.
+    But to the King, on that sweet eventide,
+  No earth there seemed, no heaven when earth was gone;
+  No help, no God! but lonely pain alone;
+  And he, midst unreal shadows, seemed to sit
+  Himself the very heart and soul of it.
+  But round the cradle of the new-born child
+  The nurses now the weary time beguiled
+  With stories of the just departed Queen;
+  And how, amid the heathen folk first seen,
+  She had been won to love and godliness;
+  And as they spoke, e'en midst his dull distress,
+  An eager whisper now and then would smite
+  Upon the King's ear, of some past delight,
+  Some once familiar name, and he would raise
+  His weary head, and on the speaker gaze
+  Like one about to speak, but soon again
+  Would drop his head and be alone with pain,
+  Nor think of these; who, silent in their turn,
+  Would sit and watch the waxen tapers burn
+  Amidst the dusk of the quick-gathering night,
+  Until beneath the high stars' glimmering light,
+  The fresh earth lay in colourless repose.
+    So passed the night, and now and then one rose
+  From out her place to do what might avail
+  To still the new-born infant's fretful wail;
+  Or through the softly-opened door there came
+  Some nurse new waked, who, whispering low the name
+  Of her whose turn was come, would take her place;
+  Then toward the King would turn about her face
+  And to her fellows whisper of the day,
+  And tell again of her just past away.
+
+    So passed the night, the moon arose and grew,
+  From off the sea a little west-wind blew,
+  Rustling the garden-leaves like sudden rain;
+  And ere the moon had 'gun to fall again
+  The wind grew cold, a change was in the sky,
+  And in deep silence did the dawn draw nigh;
+  Then from her place a nurse arose to light
+  Fresh hallowed lights, for, dying with the night,
+  The tapers round about the dead Queen were;
+  But the King raised his head and 'gan to stare
+  Upon her, as her sweeping gown did glide
+  About the floor, that in the stillness cried
+  Beneath her careful feet; and now as she
+  Had lit the second candle carefully,
+  And on its silver spike another one
+  Was setting, through her body did there run
+  A sudden tremor, and the hand was stayed
+  That on the dainty painted wax was laid;
+  Her eyelids fell down and she seemed to sleep,
+  And o'er the staring King began to creep
+  Sweet slumber too; the bitter lines of woe
+  That drew his weary face did softer grow,
+  His eyelids dropped, his arms fell to his side;
+  And moveless in their places did abide
+  The nursing women, held by some strong spell,
+  E'en as they were, and utter silence fell
+  Upon the mournful, glimmering chamber fair.
+    But now light footsteps coming up the stair,
+  Smote on the deadly stillness, and the sound
+  Of silken dresses trailing o'er the ground;
+  And heavenly odours through the chamber passed,
+  Unlike the scents that rose and lily cast
+  Upon the freshness of the dying night;
+  Then nigher drew the sound of footsteps light
+  Until the door swung open noiselessly--
+  A mass of sunlit flowers there seemed to be
+  Within the doorway, and but pale and wan
+  The flame showed now that serveth mortal man,
+  As one by one six seeming ladies passed
+  Into the room, and o'er its sorrow cast
+  That thoughtless sense of joy bewildering,
+  That kisses youthful hearts amidst of spring;
+  Crowned were they, in such glorious raiment clad,
+  As yet no merchant of the world has had
+  Within his coffers; yet those crowns seemed fair
+  Only because they kissed their odorous hair,
+  And all that flowery raiment was but blessed
+  By those fair bodies that its splendour pressed.
+    Now to the cradle from that glorious band,
+  A woman passed, and laid a tender hand
+  Upon the babe, and gently drew aside
+  The swathings soft that did his body hide;
+  And, seeing him so fair and great, she smiled,
+  And stooped, and kissed him, saying, "O noble child,
+  Have thou a gift from Gloriande this day;
+  For to the time when life shall pass away
+  From this dear heart, no fear of death or shame,
+  No weariness of good shall foul thy name."
+    So saying, to her sisters she returned;
+  And one came forth, upon whose brow there burned
+  A crown of rubies, and whose heaving breast
+  With happy rings a golden hauberk pressed;
+  She took the babe, and somewhat frowning said,
+  "This gift I give, that till thy limbs are laid
+  At rest for ever, to thine honoured life
+  There never shall be lacking war and strife,
+  That thou a long-enduring name mayst win,
+  And by thy deeds, good pardon for thy sin."
+    With that another, who, unseen, meanwhile
+  Had drawn anigh, said with a joyous smile,
+  "And this forgotten gift to thee I give,
+  That while amidst the turmoil thou dost live,
+  Still shalt thou win the game, and unto thee
+  Defeat and shame but idle words shall be."
+    Then back they turned, and therewithal, the fourth
+  Said, "Take this gift for what it may be worth
+  For that is mine to give; lo, thou shalt be
+  Gentle of speech, and in all courtesy
+  The first of men: a little gift this is,
+  After these promises of fame and bliss."
+    Then toward the babe the fifth fair woman went;
+  Grey-eyed she was, and simple, with eyes bent
+  Down on the floor, parted her red lips were,
+  And o'er her sweet face marvellously fair
+  Oft would the colour spread full suddenly;
+  Clad in a dainty gown and thin was she,
+  For some green summer of the fay-land dight,
+  Tripping she went, and laid her fingers light
+  Upon the child, and said, "O little one,
+  As long as thou shalt look upon the sun
+  Shall women long for thee; take heed to this
+  And give them what thou canst of love and bliss."
+    Then, blushing for her words, therefrom she past,
+  And by the cradle stood the sixth and last,
+  The fairest of them all; awhile she gazed
+  Down on the child, and then her hand she raised,
+  And made the one side of her bosom bare;
+  "Ogier," she said, "if this be foul or fair
+  Thou know'st not now, but when thine earthly life
+  Is drunk out to the dregs, and war and strife
+  Have yielded thee whatever joy they may,
+  Thine head upon this bosom shalt thou lay;
+  And then, despite of knowledge or of God,
+  Will we be glad upon the flowery sod
+  Within the happy country where I dwell:
+  Ogier, my love that is to be, farewell!"
+
+    She turned, and even as they came they passed
+  From out the place, and reached the gate at last
+  That oped before their feet, and speedily
+  They gained the edges of the murmuring sea,
+  And as they stood in silence, gazing there
+  Out to the west, they vanished into air,
+  I know not how, nor whereto they returned.
+
+    But mixed with twilight in the chamber burned
+  The flickering candles, and those dreary folk,
+  Unlike to sleepers, from their trance awoke,
+  But nought of what had happed meanwhile they knew.
+  Through the half-opened casements now there blew
+  A sweet fresh air, that of the flowers and sea
+  Mingled together, smelt deliciously,
+  And from the unseen sun the spreading light
+  Began to make the fair June blossoms bright,
+  And midst their weary woe uprose the sun,
+  And thus has Ogier's noble life begun.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+  Hope is our life, when first our life grows clear;
+  Hope and delight, scarce crossed by lines of fear,
+  Yet the day comes when fain we would not hope,
+  But forasmuch as we with life must cope,
+  Struggling with this and that, and who knows why?
+  Hope will not give us up to certainty,
+  But still must bide with us: and with this man,
+  Whose life amid such promises began
+  Great things she wrought; but now the time has come
+  When he no more on earth may have his home.
+    Great things he suffered, great delights he had,
+  Unto great kings he gave good deeds for bad;
+  He ruled o'er kingdoms where his name no more
+  Is had in memory, and on many a shore
+  He left his sweat and blood to win a name
+  Passing the bounds of earthly creatures' fame.
+  A love he won and lost, a well-loved son
+  Whose little day of promise soon was done:
+  A tender wife he had, that he must leave
+  Before his heart her love could well receive;
+  Those promised gifts, that on his careless head
+  In those first hours of his fair life were shed
+  He took unwitting, and unwitting spent,
+  Nor gave himself to grief and discontent
+  Because he saw the end a-drawing nigh.
+    Where is he now? in what land must he die,
+  To leave an empty name to us on earth?
+  A tale half true, to cast across our mirth
+  Some pensive thoughts of life that might have been;
+  Where is he now, that all this life has seen?
+
+    Behold, another eve I bid you see
+  Than that calm eve of his nativity;
+  The sun is setting in the west, the sky
+  Is clear and hard, and no clouds come anigh
+  The golden orb, but further off they lie,
+  Steel-grey and black with edges red as blood,
+  And underneath them is the weltering flood
+  Of some huge sea, whose tumbling hills, as they
+  Turn restless sides about, are black or grey,
+  Or green, or glittering with the golden flame;
+  The wind has fallen now, but still the same
+  The mighty army moves, as if to drown
+  This lone, bare rock, whose shear scarped sides of brown
+  Cast off the weight of waves in clouds of spray.
+    Alas! what ships upon an evil day
+  Bent over to the wind in this ill sea?
+  What navy, whose rent bones lie wretchedly
+  Beneath these cliffs? a mighty one it was,
+  A fearful storm to bring such things to pass.
+
+    This is the loadstone rock; no armament
+  Of warring nations, in their madness bent
+  Their course this way; no merchant wittingly
+  Has steered his keel unto this luckless sea;
+  Upon no shipman's card its name is writ,
+  Though worn-out mariners will speak of it
+  Within the ingle on the winter's night,
+  When all within is warm and safe and bright,
+  And the wind howls without: but 'gainst their will
+  Are some folk driven here, and then all skill
+  Against this evil rock is vain and nought,
+  And unto death the shipmen soon are brought;
+  For then the keel, as by a giant's hand,
+  Is drawn unto that mockery of a land,
+  And presently unto its sides doth cleave;
+  When if they 'scape swift death, yet none may leave
+  The narrow limits of that barren isle,
+  And thus are slain by famine in a while
+  Mocked, as they say, by night with images
+  Of noble castles among groves of trees,
+  By day with sounds of merry minstrelsy.
+
+    The sun sinks now below this hopeless sea,
+  The clouds are gone, and all the sky is bright;
+  The moon is rising o'er the growing night,
+  And by its light may ye behold the bones
+  Of generations of these luckless ones
+  Scattered about the rock; but nigh the sea
+  Sits one alive, who uncomplainingly
+  Awaits his death. White-haired is he and old,
+  Arrayed in royal raiment, bright with gold,
+  But tarnished with the waves and rough salt air;
+  Huge is he, of a noble face and fair,
+  As for an ancient man, though toil and eld
+  Furrow the cheeks that ladies once beheld
+  With melting hearts--Nay, listen, for he speaks!
+    "God, thou hast made me strong! nigh seven weeks
+  Have passed since from the wreck we haled our store,
+  And five long days well told, have now passed o'er
+  Since my last fellow died, with my last bread
+  Between his teeth, and yet I am not dead.
+  Yea, but for this I had been strong enow
+  In some last bloody field my sword to show.
+  What matter? soon will all be past and done,
+  Where'er I died I must have died alone:
+  Yet, Caraheu, a good death had it been
+  Dying, thy face above me to have seen,
+  And heard my banner flapping in the wind,
+  Then, though my memory had not left thy mind,
+  Yet hope and fear would not have vexed thee more
+  When thou hadst known that everything was o'er;
+  But now thou waitest, still expecting me,
+  Whose sail shall never speck thy bright blue sea.
+    "And thou, Clarice, the merchants thou mayst call,
+  To tell thee tales within thy pictured hall,
+  But never shall they tell true tales of me:
+  Whatever sails the Kentish hills may see
+  Swept by the flood-tide toward thy well-walled town,
+  No more on my sails shall they look adown.
+    "Get thee another leader, Charlemaine,
+  For thou shalt look to see my shield in vain,
+  When in the fair fields of the Frankish land,
+  Thick as the corn they tread, the heathen stand.
+    "What matter? ye shall learn to live your lives;
+  Husbands and children, other friends and wives,
+  Shall wipe the tablets of your memory clean,
+  And all shall be as I had never been.
+
+    "And now, O God, am I alone with Thee;
+  A little thing indeed it seems to be
+  To give this life up, since it needs must go
+  Some time or other; now at last I know
+  How foolishly men play upon the earth,
+  When unto them a year of life seems worth
+  Honour and friends, and these vague hopes and sweet
+  That like real things my dying heart do greet,
+  Unreal while living on the earth I trod,
+  And but myself I knew no other god.
+  Behold, I thank Thee that Thou sweet'nest thus
+  This end, that I had thought most piteous,
+  If of another I had heard it told."
+
+    What man is this, who weak and worn and old,
+  Gives up his life within that dreadful isle,
+  And on the fearful coming death can smile?
+  Alas! this man, so battered and outworn,
+  Is none but he, who, on that summer morn,
+  Received such promises of glorious life:
+  Ogier the Dane this is, to whom all strife
+  Was but as wine to stir awhile the blood,
+  To whom all life, however hard, was good:
+  This is the man, unmatched of heart and limb,
+  Ogier the Dane, whose sight has waxed not dim
+  For all the years that he on earth has dwelt;
+  Ogier the Dane, that never fear has felt,
+  Since he knew good from ill; Ogier the Dane,
+  The heathen's dread, the evil-doer's bane.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+  Bright had the moon grown as his words were done,
+  And no more was there memory of the sun
+  Within the west, and he grew drowsy now,
+  And somewhat smoother was his wrinkled brow
+  As thought died out beneath the hand of sleep,
+  And o'er his soul forgetfulness did creep,
+  Hiding the image of swift-coming death;
+  Until as peacefully he drew his breath
+  As on that day, past for a hundred years,
+  When, midst the nurse's quickly-falling tears,
+  He fell asleep to his first lullaby.
+    The night changed as he slept, white clouds and high
+  Began about the lonely moon to close;
+  And from the dark west a new wind arose,
+  And with the sound of heavy-falling waves
+  Mingled its pipe about the loadstone caves;
+  But when the twinkling stars were hid away,
+  And a faint light and broad, like dawn of day,
+  The moon upon that dreary country shed,
+  Ogier awoke, and lifting up his head
+  And smiling, muttered, "Nay, no more again;
+  Rather some pleasure new, some other pain,
+  Unthought of both, some other form of strife;"
+  For he had waked from dreams of his old life,
+  And through St. Omer's archer-guarded gate
+  Once more had seemed to pass, and saw the state
+  Of that triumphant king; and still, though all
+  Seemed changed, and folk by other names did call
+  Faces he knew of old, yet none the less
+  He seemed the same, and, midst that mightiness,
+  Felt his own power, and grew the more athirst
+  For coming glory, as of old, when first
+  He stood before the face of Charlemaine,
+  A helpless hostage with all life to gain.
+    But now, awake, his worn face once more sank
+  Between his hands, and, murmuring not, he drank
+  The draught of death that must that thirst allay.
+
+    But while he sat and waited for the day
+  A sudden light across the bare rock streamed,
+  Which at the first he noted not, but deemed
+  The moon her fleecy veil had broken through;
+  But ruddier indeed this new light grew
+  Than were the moon's grey beams, and, therewithal,
+  Soft far-off music on his ears did fall;
+  Yet moved he not, but murmured, "This is death,
+  An easy thing like this to yield my breath,
+  Awake, yet dreaming, with no sounds of fear,
+  No dreadful sights to tell me it is near;
+  Yea, God, I thank Thee!" but with that last word
+  It seemed to him that he his own name heard
+  Whispered, as though the wind had borne it past;
+  With that he gat unto his feet at last,
+  But still awhile he stood, with sunken head,
+  And in a low and trembling voice he said,
+  "Lord, I am ready, whither shall I go?
+  I pray Thee unto me some token show."
+  And, as he said this, round about he turned,
+  And in the east beheld a light that burned
+  As bright as day; then, though his flesh might fear
+  The coming change that he believed so near,
+  Yet did his soul rejoice, for now he thought
+  Unto the very heaven to be brought:
+  And though he felt alive, deemed it might be
+  That he in sleep had died full easily.
+    Then toward that light did he begin to go,
+  And still those strains he heard, far off and low,
+  That grew no louder; still that bright light streamed
+  Over the rocks, yet nothing brighter seemed,
+  But like the light of some unseen bright flame
+  Shone round about, until at last he came
+  Unto the dreary islet's other shore,
+  And then the minstrelsy he heard no more,
+  And softer seemed the strange light unto him;
+  But yet or ever it had grown quite dim,
+  Beneath its waning light could he behold
+  A mighty palace set about with gold,
+  Above green meads and groves of summer trees
+  Far-off across the welter of the seas;
+  But, as he gazed, it faded from his sight,
+  And the grey hidden moon's diffused soft light,
+  Which soothly was but darkness to him now,
+  His sea-girt island prison did but show.
+    But o'er the sea he still gazed wistfully,
+  And said, "Alas! and when will this go by
+  And leave my soul in peace? must I still dream
+  Of life that once so dear a thing did seem,
+  That, when I wake, death may the bitterer be?
+  Here will I sit until he come to me,
+  And hide mine eyes and think upon my sin,
+  That so a little calm I yet may win
+  Before I stand within the awful place."
+    Then down he sat and covered up his face,
+  Yet therewithal his trouble could not hide,
+  Nor waiting thus for death could he abide,
+  For, though he knew it not, the yearning pain
+  Of hope of life had touched his soul again--
+  If he could live awhile, if he could live!
+  The mighty being, who once was wont to give
+  The gift of life to many a trembling man;
+  Who did his own will since his life began;
+  Who feared not aught, but strong and great and free
+  Still cast aside the thought of what might be;
+  Must all this then be lost, and with no will,
+  Powerless and blind, must he some fate fulfil,
+  Nor know what he is doing any more?
+
+    Soon he arose and paced along the shore,
+  And gazed out seaward for the blessed light;
+  But nought he saw except the old sad sight,
+  The ceaseless tumbling of the billows grey,
+  The white upspringing of the spurts of spray
+  Amidst that mass of timbers, the rent bones
+  Of the sea-houses of the hapless ones
+  Once cast like him upon this deadly isle.
+    He stopped his pacing in a little while,
+  And clenched his mighty hands, and set his teeth,
+  And gazing at the ruin underneath,
+  He swung from off the bare cliff's jagged brow,
+  And on some slippery ledge he wavered now,
+  Without a hand-hold, and now stoutly clung
+  With hands alone, and o'er the welter hung,
+  Not caring aught if thus his life should end;
+  But safely midst all this did he descend
+  The dreadful cliff, and since no beach was there,
+  But from the depths the rock rose stark and bare,
+  Nor crumbled aught beneath the hammering sea,
+  Upon the wrecks he stood unsteadily.
+
+    But now, amid the clamour of the waves,
+  And washing to-and-fro of beams and staves,
+  Dizzy with hunger, dreamy with distress,
+  And all those days of fear and loneliness,
+  The ocean's tumult seemed the battle's roar,
+  His heart grew hot, as when in days of yore
+  He heard the cymbals clash amid the crowd
+  Of dusky faces; now he shouted loud,
+  And from crushed beam to beam began to leap,
+  And yet his footing somehow did he keep
+  Amidst their tossing, and indeed the sea
+  Was somewhat sunk upon the island's lee.
+  So quickly on from wreck to wreck he passed,
+  And reached the outer line of wrecks at last,
+  And there a moment stood unsteadily,
+  Amid the drift of spray that hurried by,
+  And drew Courtain his sword from out its sheath,
+  And poised himself to meet the coming death,
+  Still looking out to sea; but as he gazed,
+  And once or twice his doubtful feet he raised
+  To take the final plunge, that heavenly strain
+  Over the washing waves he heard again,
+  And from the dimness something bright he saw
+  Across the waste of waters towards him draw;
+  And hidden now, now raised aloft, at last
+  Unto his very feet a boat was cast,
+  Gilded inside and out, and well arrayed
+  With cushions soft; far fitter to have weighed
+  From some sweet garden on the shallow Seine,
+  Or in a reach of green Thames to have lain,
+  Than struggle with that huge confused sea;
+  But Ogier gazed upon it doubtfully
+  One moment, and then, sheathing Courtain, said,
+  "What tales are these about the newly dead
+  The heathen told? what matter, let all pass;
+  This moment as one dead indeed I was,
+  And this must be what I have got to do,
+  I yet perchance may light on something new
+  Before I die; though yet perchance this keel
+  Unto the wondrous mass of charmed steel
+  Is drawn as others." With that word he leapt
+  Into the boat, and o'er the cushions crept
+  From stem to stern, but found no rudder there,
+  Nor any oars, nor were the cushions fair
+  Made wet by any dashing of the sea.
+    Now while he pondered how these things could be,
+  The boat began to move therefrom at last,
+  But over him a drowsiness was cast,
+  And as o'er tumbling hills the skiff did pass,
+  He clean forgot his death and where he was.
+
+    At last he woke up to a sunny day,
+  And, looking round, saw that his shallop lay
+  Moored at the edge of some fair tideless sea
+  Unto an overhanging thick-leaved tree,
+  Where in the green waves did the low bank dip
+  Its fresh and green grass-covered daisied lip;
+  But Ogier looking thence no more could see
+  That sad abode of death and misery,
+  Nor aught but wide and empty ocean, grey
+  With gathering haze, for now it neared midday;
+  Then from the golden cushions did he rise,
+  And wondering still if this were Paradise
+  He stepped ashore, but drew Courtain his sword
+  And muttered therewithal a holy word.
+    Fair was the place, as though amidst of May,
+  Nor did the brown birds fear the sunny day,
+  For with their quivering song the air was sweet;
+  Thick grew the field-flowers underneath his feet,
+  And on his head the blossoms down did rain,
+  Yet mid these fair things slowly and with pain
+  He 'gan to go, yea, even when his foot
+  First touched the flowery sod, to his heart's root
+  A coldness seemed to strike, and now each limb
+  Was growing stiff, his eyes waxed bleared and dim,
+  And all his stored-up memory 'gan to fail,
+  Nor yet would his once mighty heart avail
+  For lamentations o'er his changed lot;
+  Yet urged by some desire, he knew not what,
+  Along a little path 'twixt hedges sweet,
+  Drawn sword in hand, he dragged his faltering feet,
+  For what then seemed to him a weary way,
+  Whereon his steps he needs must often stay
+  And lean upon the mighty well-worn sword
+  That in those hands, grown old, for king or lord
+  Had small respect in glorious days long past.
+
+    But still he crept along, and at the last
+  Came to a gilded wicket, and through this
+  Entered a garden fit for utmost bliss,
+  If that might last which needs must soon go by:
+  There 'gainst a tree he leaned, and with a sigh
+  He said, "O God, a sinner I have been,
+  And good it is that I these things have seen
+  Before I meet what Thou hast set apart
+  To cleanse the earthly folly from my heart;
+  But who within this garden now can dwell
+  Wherein guilt first upon the world befell?"
+    A little further yet he staggered on,
+  Till to a fountain-side at last he won,
+  O'er which two white-thorns their sweet blossoms shed,
+  There he sank down, and laid his weary head
+  Beside the mossy roots, and in a while
+  He slept, and dreamed himself within the isle;
+  That splashing fount the weary sea did seem,
+  And in his dream the fair place but a dream;
+  But when again to feebleness he woke
+  Upon his ears that heavenly music broke,
+  Not faint or far as in the isle it was,
+  But e'en as though the minstrels now did pass
+  Anigh his resting-place; then fallen in doubt,
+  E'en as he might, he rose and gazed about,
+  Leaning against the hawthorn stem with pain;
+  And yet his straining gaze was but in vain,
+  Death stole so fast upon him, and no more
+  Could he behold the blossoms as before,
+  No more the trees seemed rooted to the ground,
+  A heavy mist seemed gathering all around,
+  And in its heart some bright thing seemed to be,
+  And round his head there breathed deliciously
+  Sweet odours, and that music never ceased.
+  But as the weight of Death's strong hand increased
+  Again he sank adown, and Courtain's noise
+  Within the scabbard seemed a farewell voice
+  Sent from the world he loved so well of old,
+  And all his life was as a story told,
+  And as he thought thereof he 'gan to smile
+  E'en as a child asleep, but in a while
+  It was as though he slept, and sleeping dreamed,
+  For in his half-closed eyes a glory gleamed,
+  As though from some sweet face and golden hair,
+  And on his breast were laid soft hands and fair,
+  And a sweet voice was ringing in his ears,
+  Broken as if with flow of joyous tears;
+    "Ogier, sweet friend, hast thou not tarried long?
+  Alas! thine hundred years of strife and wrong!"
+  Then he found voice to say, "Alas! dear Lord,
+  Too long, too long; and yet one little word
+  Right many a year agone had brought me here."
+  Then to his face that face was drawn anear,
+  He felt his head raised up and gently laid
+  On some kind knee, again the sweet voice said,
+  "Nay, Ogier, nay, not yet, not yet, dear friend!
+  Who knoweth when our linked life shall end,
+  Since thou art come unto mine arms at last,
+  And all the turmoil of the world is past?
+  Why do I linger ere I see thy face
+  As I desired it in that mourning place
+  So many years ago--so many years,
+  Thou knewest not thy love and all her fears?"
+    "Alas!" he said, "what mockery is this
+  That thou wilt speak to me of earthly bliss?
+  No longer can I think upon the earth,
+  Have I not done with all its grief and mirth?
+  Yes, I was Ogier once, but if my love
+  Should come once more my dying heart to move,
+  Then must she come from 'neath the milk-white walls
+  Whereon to-day the hawthorn blossom falls
+  Outside St. Omer's--art thou she? her name
+  I could remember once mid death and fame
+  Is clean forgotten now; but yesterday,
+  Meseems, our son, upon her bosom lay:
+  Baldwin the fair--what hast thou done with him
+  Since Charlot slew him? Ah, mine eyes wax dim;
+  Woman, forbear! wilt thou not let me die?
+  Did I forget thee in the days gone by?
+  Then let me die, that we may meet again!"
+
+    He tried to move from her, but all in vain,
+  For life had well-nigh left him, but withal
+  He felt a kiss upon his forehead fall,
+  And could not speak; he felt slim fingers fair
+  Move to his mighty sword-worn hand, and there
+  Set on some ring, and still he could not speak,
+  And once more sleep weighed down his eyelids weak.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+  But, ah! what land was this he woke unto?
+  What joy was this that filled his heart anew?
+  Had he then gained the very Paradise?
+  Trembling, he durst not at the first arise,
+  Although no more he felt the pain of eld,
+  Nor durst he raise his eyes that now beheld
+  Beside him the white flowers and blades of grass;
+  He durst not speak, lest he some monster was.
+    But while he lay and hoped, that gentle voice
+  Once more he heard; "Yea, thou mayst well rejoice!
+  Thou livest still, my sweet, thou livest still,
+  Apart from every earthly fear and ill;
+  Wilt thou not love me, who have wrought thee this,
+  That I like thee may live in double bliss?"
+    Then Ogier rose up, nowise like to one
+  Whose span of earthly life is nigh outrun,
+  But as he might have risen in old days
+  To see the spears cleave the fresh morning haze;
+  But, looking round, he saw no change there was
+  In the fair place wherethrough he first did pass,
+  Though all, grown clear and joyous to his eyes,
+  Now looked no worse than very Paradise;
+  Behind him were the thorns, the fountain fair
+  Still sent its glittering stream forth into air,
+  And by its basin a fair woman stood,
+  And as their eyes met his renewed blood
+  Rushed to his face; with unused thoughts and sweet
+  And hurrying hopes, his heart began to beat.
+    The fairest of all creatures did she seem;
+  So fresh and delicate you well might deem
+  That scarce for eighteen summers had she blessed
+  The happy, longing world; yet, for the rest,
+  Within her glorious eyes such wisdom dwelt
+  A child before her had the wise man felt,
+  And with the pleasure of a thousand years
+  Her lips were fashioned to move joy or tears
+  Among the longing folk where she might dwell,
+  To give at last the kiss unspeakable.
+    In such wise was she clad as folk may be,
+  Who, for no shame of their humanity,
+  For no sad changes of the imperfect year,
+  Rather for added beauty, raiment wear;
+  For, as the heat-foretelling grey-blue haze
+  Veils the green flowery morn of late May-days,
+  Her raiment veiled her; where the bands did meet
+  That bound the sandals to her dainty feet,
+  Gems gleamed; a fresh rose-wreath embraced her head,
+  And on her breast there lay a ruby red.
+    So with a supplicating look she turned
+  To meet the flame that in his own eyes burned,
+  And held out both her white arms lovingly,
+  As though to greet him as he drew anigh.
+  Stammering he said, "Who art thou? how am I
+  So cured of all my evils suddenly,
+  That certainly I felt no mightier, when,
+  Amid the backward rush of beaten men,
+  About me drooped the axe-torn Oriflamme?
+  Alas! I fear that in some dream I am."
+    "Ogier," she said, "draw near, perchance it is
+  That such a name God gives unto our bliss;
+  I know not, but if thou art such an one
+  As I must deem, all days beneath the sun
+  That thou hast had, shall be but dreams indeed
+  To those that I have given thee at thy need.
+  For many years ago beside the sea
+  When thou wert born, I plighted troth with thee:
+  Come near then, and make mirrors of mine eyes,
+  That thou mayest see what these my mysteries
+  Have wrought in thee; surely but thirty years,
+  Passed amidst joy, thy new born body bears,
+  Nor while thou art with me, and on this shore
+  Art still full-fed of love, shalt thou seem more.
+  Nay, love, come nigher, and let me take thine hand,
+  The hope and fear of many a warring land,
+  And I will show thee wherein lies the spell,
+  Whereby this happy change upon thee fell."
+
+    Like a shy youth before some royal love,
+  Close up to that fair woman did he move,
+  And their hands met; yet to his changed voice
+  He dared not trust; nay, scarcely could rejoice
+  E'en when her balmy breath he 'gan to feel,
+  And felt strange sweetness o'er his spirit steal
+  As her light raiment, driven by the wind,
+  Swept round him, and, bewildered and half-blind,
+  His lips the treasure of her lips did press,
+  And round him clung her perfect loveliness.
+    For one sweet moment thus they stood, and then
+  She drew herself from out his arms again,
+  And panting, lovelier for her love, did stand
+  Apart awhile, then took her lover's hand,
+  And, in a trembling voice, made haste to say,--
+    "O Ogier, when thou earnest here to-day,
+  I feared indeed, that in my sport with fate,
+  I might have seen thee e'en one day too late,
+  Before this ring thy finger should embrace;
+  Behold it, love, and thy keen eyes may trace
+  Faint figures wrought upon the ruddy gold;
+  My father dying gave it me, nor told
+  The manner of its making, but I know
+  That it can make thee e'en as thou art now
+  Despite the laws of God--shrink not from me
+  Because I give an impious gift to thee--
+  Has not God made me also, who do this?
+  But I, who longed to share with thee my bliss,
+  Am of the fays, and live their changeless life,
+  And, like the gods of old, I see the strife
+  That moves the world, unmoved if so I will;
+  For we the fruit, that teaches good and ill,
+  Have never touched like you of Adam's race;
+  And while thou dwellest with me in this place
+  Thus shalt thou be--ah, and thou deem'st, indeed,
+  That thou shalt gain thereby no happy meed
+  Reft of the world's joys? nor canst understand
+  How thou art come into a happy land?--
+  Love, in thy world the priests of heaven still sing,
+  And tell thee of it many a joyous thing;
+  But think'st thou, bearing the world's joy and pain,
+  Thou couldst live there? nay, nay, but born again
+  Thus wouldst be happy with the angels' bliss;
+  And so with us no otherwise it is,
+  Nor hast thou cast thine old life quite away
+  Even as yet, though that shall be to-day.
+    "But for the love and country thou hast won,
+  Know thou, that thou art come to Avallon,
+  That is both thine and mine; and as for me,
+  Morgan le Fay men call me commonly
+  Within the world, but fairer names than this
+  I have for thee and me, 'twixt kiss and kiss."
+
+    Ah, what was this? and was it all in vain,
+  That she had brought him here this life to gain?
+  For, ere her speech was done, like one turned blind
+  He watched the kisses of the wandering wind
+  Within her raiment, or as some one sees
+  The very best of well-wrought images
+  When he is blind with grief, did he behold
+  The wandering tresses of her locks of gold
+  Upon her shoulders; and no more he pressed
+  The hand that in his own hand lay at rest:
+  His eyes, grown dull with changing memories,
+  Could make no answer to her glorious eyes:
+  Cold waxed his heart, and weary and distraught,
+  With many a cast-by, hateful, dreary thought,
+  Unfinished in the old days; and withal
+  He needs must think of what might chance to fall
+  In this life new-begun; and good and bad
+  Tormented him, because as yet he had
+  A worldly heart within his frame made new,
+  And to the deeds that he was wont to do
+  Did his desires still turn. But she a while
+  Stood gazing at him with a doubtful smile,
+  And let his hand fall down; but suddenly
+  Sounded sweet music from some close nearby,
+  And then she spoke again: "Come, love, with me,
+  That thou thy new life and delights mayst see."
+  And gently with that word she led him thence,
+  And though upon him now there fell a sense
+  Of dreamy and unreal bewilderment,
+  As hand in hand through that green place they went,
+  Yet therewithal a strain of tender love
+  A little yet his restless heart did move.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+    So through the whispering trees they came at last
+  To where a wondrous house a shadow cast
+  Across the flowers, and o'er the daisied grass
+  Before it, crowds of lovely folk did pass,
+  Playing about in carelessness and mirth,
+  Unshadowed by the doubtful deeds of earth;
+  And from the midst a band of fair girls came,
+  With flowers and music, greeting him by name,
+  And praising him; but ever like a dream
+  He could not break, did all to Ogier seem,
+  And he his old world did the more desire,
+  For in his heart still burned unquenched the fire,
+  That through the world of old so bright did burn:
+  Yet was he fain that kindness to return,
+  And from the depth of his full heart he sighed.
+    Then toward the house the lovely Queen did guide
+  His listless steps, and seemed to take no thought
+  Of knitted brow or wandering eyes distraught,
+  But still with kind love lighting up her face
+  She led him through the door of that fair place,
+  While round about them did the damsels press;
+  And he was moved by all that loveliness
+  As one might be, who, lying half asleep
+  In the May morning, notes the light wind sweep
+  Over the tulip-beds: no more to him
+  Were gleaming eyes, red lips, and bodies slim,
+  Amidst that dream, although the first surprise
+  Of hurried love wherewith the Queen's sweet eyes
+  Had smitten him, still in his heart did stir.
+
+    And so at last he came, led on by her
+  Into a hall wherein a fair throne was,
+  And hand in hand thereto the twain did pass;
+  And there she bade him sit, and when alone
+  He took his place upon the double throne,
+  She cast herself before him on her knees,
+  Embracing his, and greatly did increase
+  The shame and love that vexed his troubled heart:
+  But now a line of girls the crowd did part,
+  Lovelier than all, and Ogier could behold
+  One in their midst who bore a crown of gold
+  Within her slender hands and delicate;
+  She, drawing nigh, beside the throne did wait
+  Until the Queen arose and took the crown,
+  Who then to Ogier's lips did stoop adown
+  And kissed him, and said, "Ogier, what were worth
+  Thy miserable days of strife on earth,
+  That on their ashes still thine eyes are turned?"
+    Then, as she spoke these words, his changed heart burned
+  With sudden memories, and thereto had he
+  Made answer, but she raised up suddenly
+  The crown she held and set it on his head,
+  "Ogier," she cried, "those troublous days are dead;
+  Thou wert dead with them also, but for me;
+  Turn unto her who wrought these things for thee!"
+    Then, as he felt her touch, a mighty wave
+  Of love swept o'er his soul, as though the grave
+  Did really hold his body; from his seat
+  He rose to cast himself before her feet;
+  But she clung round him, and in close embrace
+  The twain were locked amidst that thronging place.
+
+    Thenceforth new life indeed has Ogier won,
+  And in the happy land of Avallon
+  Quick glide the years o'er his unchanging head;
+  There saw he many men the world thought dead,
+  Living like him in sweet forgetfulness
+  Of all the troubles that did once oppress
+  Their vainly-struggling lives--ah, how can I
+  Tell of their joy as though I had been nigh?
+  Suffice it that no fear of death they knew,
+  That there no talk there was of false or true,
+  Of right or wrong, for traitors came not there;
+  That everything was bright and soft and fair,
+  And yet they wearied not for any change,
+  Nor unto them did constancy seem strange.
+  Love knew they, but its pain they never had,
+  But with each other's joy were they made glad;
+  Nor were their lives wasted by hidden fire,
+  Nor knew they of the unfulfilled desire
+  That turns to ashes all the joys of earth,
+  Nor knew they yearning love amidst the dearth
+  Of kind and loving hearts to spend it on,
+  Nor dreamed or discontent when all was won;
+  Nor need they struggle after wealth and fame;
+  Still was the calm flow of their lives the same,
+  And yet, I say, they wearied not of it--
+  So did the promised days by Ogier flit.
+
+    Think that a hundred years have now passed by,
+  Since ye beheld Ogier lie down to die
+  Beside the fountain; think that now ye are
+  In France, made dangerous with wasting war;
+  In Paris, where about each guarded gate,
+  Gathered in knots, the anxious people wait,
+  And press around each new-come man to learn
+  If Harfleur now the pagan wasters burn,
+  Or if the Rouen folk can keep their chain,
+  Or Pont de l'Arche unburnt still guards the Seine?
+  Or if 'tis true that Andelys succour wants?
+  That Vernon's folk are fleeing east to Mantes?
+  When will they come? or rather is it true
+  That a great band the Constable o'erthrew
+  Upon the marshes of the lower Seine,
+  And that their long ships, turning back again,
+  Caught by the high-raised waters of the bore
+  Were driven here and there and cast ashore?
+    Such questions did they ask, and, as fresh men
+  Came hurrying in, they asked them o'er again,
+  And from scared folk, or fools, or ignorant,
+  Still got new lies, or tidings very scant.
+
+    But now amidst these men at last came one,
+  A little ere the setting of the sun,
+  With two stout men behind him, armed right well,
+  Who ever as they rode on, sooth to tell,
+  With doubtful eyes upon their master stared,
+  Or looked about like troubled men and scared.
+  And he they served was noteworthy indeed;
+  Of ancient fashion were his arms and weed,
+  Rich past the wont of men in those sad times;
+  His face was bronzed, as though by burning climes,
+  But lovely as the image of a god
+  Carved in the days before on earth Christ trod;
+  But solemn were his eyes, and grey as glass,
+  And like to ruddy gold his fine hair was:
+  A mighty man he was, and taller far
+  Than those who on that day must bear the war
+  The pagans waged: he by the warders stayed
+  Scarce looked on them, but straight their words obeyed
+  And showed his pass; then, asked about his name
+  And from what city of the world he came,
+  Said, that men called him now the Ancient Knight,
+  That he was come midst the king's men to fight
+  From St. Omer's; and as he spoke, he gazed
+  Down on the thronging street as one amazed,
+  And answered no more to the questioning
+  Of frightened folk of this or that sad thing;
+  But, ere he passed on, turned about at last
+  And on the wondering guard a strange look cast,
+  And said, "St. Mary! do such men as ye
+  Fight with the wasters from across the sea?
+  Then, certes, are ye lost, however good
+  Your hearts may be; not such were those who stood
+  Beside the Hammer-bearer years agone."
+    So said he, and as his fair armour shone
+  With beauty of a time long passed away,
+  So with the music of another day
+  His deep voice thrilled the awe-struck, listening folk.
+
+    Yet from the crowd a mocking voice outbroke,
+  That cried, "Be merry, masters, fear ye nought,
+  Surely good succour to our side is brought;
+  For here is Charlemaine come off his tomb
+  To save his faithful city from its doom."
+    "Yea," said another, "this is certain news,
+  Surely ye know how all the carvers use
+  To carve the dead man's image at the best,
+  That guards the place where he may lie at rest;
+  Wherefore this living image looks indeed,
+  Spite of his ancient tongue and marvellous weed,
+  To have but thirty summers."
+                                  At the name
+  Of Charlemaine, he turned to whence there came
+  The mocking voice, and somewhat knit his brow,
+  And seemed as he would speak, but scarce knew how;
+  So with a half-sigh soon sank back again
+  Into his dream, and shook his well-wrought rein,
+  And silently went on upon his way.
+
+    And this was Ogier: on what evil day
+  Has he then stumbled, that he needs must come,
+  Midst war and ravage, to the ancient home
+  Of his desires? did he grow weary then,
+  And wish to strive once more with foolish men
+  For worthless things? or is fair Avallon
+  Sunk in the sea, and all that glory gone?
+    Nay, thus it happed--One day she came to him
+  And said, "Ogier, thy name is waxen dim
+  Upon the world that thou rememberest not;
+  The heathen men are thick on many a spot
+  Thine eyes have seen, and which I love therefore;
+  And God will give His wonted help no more.
+  Wilt thou, then, help? canst thou have any mind
+  To give thy banner once more to the wind?
+  Since greater glory thou shalt win for this
+  Than erst thou gatheredst ere thou cam'st to bliss:
+  For men are dwindled both in heart and frame,
+  Nor holds the fair land any such a name
+  As thine, when thou wert living midst thy peers:
+  The world is worser for these hundred years."
+    From his calm eyes there gleamed a little fire,
+  And in his voice was something of desire,
+  To see the land where he was used to be,
+  As now he answered: "Nay, choose thou for me,
+  Thou art the wisest; it is more than well
+  Within this peaceful place with thee to dwell:
+  Nor ill perchance in that old land to die,
+  If, dying, I keep not the memory
+  Of this fair life of ours." "Nay, nay," said she,
+  "As to thy dying, that shall never be,
+  Whiles that thou keep'st my ring--and now, behold,
+  I take from thee thy charmed crown of gold,
+  And thou wilt be the Ogier that thou wast
+  Ere on the loadstone rock thy ship was cast:
+  Yet thou shalt have thy youthful body still,
+  And I will guard thy life from every ill."
+
+    So was it done, and Ogier, armed right well,
+  Sleeping, was borne away by some strong spell,
+  And set upon the Flemish coast; and thence
+  Turned to St. Omer's, with a doubtful sense
+  Of being in some wild dream, the while he knew
+  That great delight forgotten was his due,
+  That all which there might hap was of small worth.
+    So on he went, and sometimes unto mirth
+  Did his attire move the country-folk,
+  But oftener when strange speeches from him broke
+  Concerning men and things for long years dead,
+  He filled the listeners with great awe and dread;
+  For in such wild times as these people were
+  Are men soon moved to wonder and to fear.
+
+    Now through the streets of Paris did he ride,
+  And at a certain hostel did abide
+  Throughout that night, and ere he went next day
+  He saw a book that on a table lay,
+  And opening it 'gan read in lazy mood:
+  But long before it in that place he stood,
+  Noting nought else; for it did chronicle
+  The deeds of men of old he knew right well,
+  When they were living in the flesh with him:
+  Yea, his own deeds he saw, grown strange and dim
+  Already, and true stories mixed with lies,
+  Until, with many thronging memories
+  Of those old days, his heart was so oppressed,
+  He 'gan to wish that he might lie at rest,
+  Forgetting all things: for indeed by this
+  Little remembrance had he of the bliss
+  That wrapped his soul in peaceful Avallon.
+
+    But his changed life he needs must carry on;
+  For ye shall know the Queen was gathering men
+  To send unto the good King, who as then
+  In Rouen lay, beset by many a band
+  Of those who carried terror through the land,
+  And still by messengers for help he prayed:
+  Therefore a mighty muster was being made,
+  Of weak and strong, and brave and timorous,
+  Before the Queen anigh her royal house.
+  So thither on this morn did Ogier turn,
+  Some certain news about the war to learn;
+  And when he came at last into the square,
+  And saw the ancient palace great and fair
+  Rise up before him as in other days,
+  And in the merry morn the bright sun's rays
+  Glittering on gathering helms and moving spears,
+  He 'gan to feel as in the long-past years,
+  And his heart stirred within him. Now the Queen
+  Came from within, right royally beseen,
+  And took her seat beneath a canopy,
+  With lords and captains of the war anigh;
+  And as she came a mighty shout arose,
+  And round about began the knights to close,
+  Their oath of fealty there to swear anew,
+  And learn what service they had got to do.
+  But so it was, that some their shouts must stay
+  To gaze at Ogier as he took his way
+  Through the thronged place; and quickly too he gat
+  Unto the place whereas the Lady sat,
+  For men gave place unto him, fearing him:
+  For not alone was he most huge of limb,
+  And dangerous, but something in his face,
+  As his calm eyes looked o'er the crowded place,
+  Struck men with awe; and in the ancient days,
+  When men might hope alive on gods to gaze,
+  They would have thought, "The gods yet love our town
+  And from the heavens have sent a great one down."
+    Withal unto the throne he came so near,
+  That he the Queen's sweet measured voice could hear;
+  And swiftly now within him wrought the change
+  That first he felt amid those faces strange;
+  And his heart burned to taste the hurrying life
+  With such desires, such changing sweetness rife.
+  And yet, indeed, how should he live alone,
+  Who in the old past days such friends had known?
+  Then he began to think of Caraheu,
+  Of Bellicent the fair, and once more knew
+  The bitter pain of rent and ended love.
+  But while with hope and vain regret he strove,
+  He found none 'twixt him and the Queen's high seat,
+  And, stepping forth, he knelt before her feet
+  And took her hand to swear, as was the way
+  Of doing fealty in that ancient day,
+  And raised his eyes to hers; as fair was she
+  As any woman of the world might be
+  Full-limbed and tall, dark haired, from her deep eyes,
+  The snare of fools, the ruin of the wise,
+  Love looked unchecked; and now her dainty hand,
+  The well-knit holder of the golden wand,
+  Trembled in his, she cast her eyes adown,
+  And her sweet brow was knitted to a frown,
+  As he, the taker of such oaths of yore,
+  Now unto her all due obedience swore,
+  Yet gave himself no name; and now the Queen,
+  Awed by his voice as other folk had been,
+  Yet felt a trembling hope within her rise
+  Too sweet to think of, and with love's surprise
+  Her cheek grew pale; she said, "Thy style and name
+  Thou tellest not, nor what land of thy fame
+  Is glad; for, certes, some land must be glad,
+  That in its bounds her house thy mother had."
+    "Lady," he said, "from what far land I come
+  I well might tell thee, but another home
+  Have I long dwelt in, and its name have I
+  Forgotten now, forgotten utterly
+  Who were my fellows, and what deeds they did;
+  Therefore, indeed, shall my first name be hid
+  And my first country; call me on this day
+  The Ancient Knight, and let me go my way."
+  He rose withal, for she her fingers fair
+  Had drawn aback, and on him 'gan to stare
+  As one afeard; for something terrible
+  Was in his speech, and that she knew right well,
+  Who 'gan to love him, and to fear that she,
+  Shut out by some strange deadly mystery,
+  Should never gain from him an equal love;
+  Yet, as from her high seat he 'gan to move,
+  She said, "O Ancient Knight, come presently,
+  When we have done this muster, unto me,
+  And thou shalt have thy charge and due command
+  For freeing from our foes this wretched land!"
+    Then Ogier made his reverence and went,
+  And somewhat could perceive of her intent;
+  For in his heart life grew, and love with life
+  Grew, and therewith, 'twixt love and fame, was strife.
+    But, as he slowly gat him from the square,
+  Gazing at all the people gathered there,
+  A squire of the Queen's behind him came,
+  And breathless, called him by his new-coined name,
+  And bade him turn because the Queen now bade,
+  Since by the muster long she might be stayed,
+  That to the palace he should bring him straight,
+  Midst sport and play her coming back to wait;
+  Then Ogier turned, nought loath, and with him went,
+  And to a postern-gate his steps he bent,
+  That Ogier knew right well in days of old;
+  Worn was it now, and the bright hues and gold
+  Upon the shields above, with lapse of days,
+  Were faded much: but now did Ogier gaze
+  Upon the garden where he walked of yore,
+  Holding the hands that he should see no more;
+  For all was changed except the palace fair,
+  That Charlemaine's own eyes had seen built there
+  Ere Ogier knew him; there the squire did lead
+  The Ancient Knight, who still took little heed
+  Of all the things that by the way he said,
+  For all his thoughts were on the days long dead.
+    There in the painted hall he sat again,
+  And 'neath the pictured eyes of Charlemaine
+  He ate and drank, and felt it like a dream;
+  And midst his growing longings yet might deem
+  That he from sleep should wake up presently
+  In some fair city on the Syrian sea,
+  Or on the brown rocks of the loadstone isle.
+  But fain to be alone, within a while
+  He gat him to the garden, and there passed
+  By wondering squires and damsels, till at last,
+  Far from the merry folk who needs must play,
+  If on the world were coming its last day,
+  He sat him down, and through his mind there ran
+  Faint thoughts of that day, when, outworn and wan,
+  He lay down by the fountain-side to die.
+  But when he strove to gain clear memory
+  Of what had happed since on the isle he lay
+  Waiting for death, a hopeless castaway,
+  Thought failing him, would rather bring again
+  His life among the peers of Charlemaine,
+  And vex his soul with hapless memories;
+  Until at last, worn out by thought of these,
+  And hopeless striving to find what was true,
+  And pondering on the deeds he had to do
+  Ere he returned, whereto he could not tell,
+  Sweet sleep upon his wearied spirit fell.
+  And on the afternoon of that fair day,
+  Forgetting all, beneath the trees he lay.
+
+    Meanwhile the Queen, affairs of state being done,
+  Went through the gardens with one dame alone
+  Seeking for Ogier, whom at last she found
+  Laid sleeping on the daisy-sprinkled ground,
+  Dreaming, I know not what, of other days.
+  Then on him for a while the Queen did gaze,
+  Drawing sweet poison from the lovely sight,
+  Then to her fellow turned, "The ancient Knight--
+  What means he by this word of his?" she said;
+  "He were well mated with some lovely maid
+  Just pondering on the late-heard name of love."
+    "Softly, my lady, he begins to move,"
+  Her fellow said, a woman old and grey;
+  "Look now, his arms are of another day;
+  None know him or his deeds; thy squire just said
+  He asked about the state of men long dead;
+  I fear what he may be; look, seest thou not
+  That ring that on one finger he has got,
+  Where figures strange upon the gold are wrought:
+  God grant that he from hell has not been brought
+  For our confusion, in this doleful war,
+  Who surely in enough of trouble are
+  Without such help;" then the Queen turned aside
+  Awhile, her drawn and troubled face to hide,
+  For lurking dread this speech within her stirred;
+  But yet she said, "Thou sayest a foolish word,
+  This man is come against our enemies
+  To fight for us." Then down upon her knees
+  Fell the old woman by the sleeping knight,
+  And from his hand she drew with fingers light
+  The wondrous ring, and scarce again could rise
+  Ere 'neath the trembling Queen's bewildered eyes
+  The change began; his golden hair turned white,
+  His smooth cheek wrinkled, and his breathing light
+  Was turned to troublous struggling for his breath,
+  And on his shrunk lips lay the hand of death;
+  And, scarce less pale than he, the trembling Queen
+  Stood thinking on the beauty she had seen
+  And longed for but a little while ago,
+  Yet with her terror still her love did grow,
+  And she began to weep as though she saw
+  Her beauty e'en to such an ending draw.
+  And 'neath her tears waking he oped his eyes,
+  And strove to speak, but nought but gasping sighs
+  His lips could utter; then he tried to reach
+  His hand to them, as though he would beseech
+  The gift of what was his: but all the while
+  The crone gazed on them with an evil smile,
+  Then holding toward the Queen that wondrous ring,
+  She said, "Why weep'st thou? having this fair thing,
+  Thou, losing nought the beauty that thou hast,
+  May'st watch the vainly struggling world go past,
+  Thyself unchanged." The Queen put forth her hand
+  And took the ring, and there awhile did stand
+  And strove to think of it, but still in her
+  Such all-absorbing longings love did stir,
+  So young she was, of death she could not think,
+  Or what a cup eld gives to man to drink;
+  Yet on her finger had she set the ring
+  When now the life that hitherto did cling
+  To Ogier's heart seemed fading quite away,
+  And scarcely breathing with shut eyes he lay.
+  Then, kneeling down, she murmured piteously,
+  "Ah, wilt thou love me if I give it thee,
+  And thou grow'st young again? what should I do
+  If with the eyes thou thus shalt gain anew
+  Thou shouldst look scorn on me?" But with that word
+  The hedge behind her, by the west wind stirred,
+  Cast fear into her heart of some one nigh,
+  And therewith on his finger hastily
+  She set the ring, then rose and stood apart
+  A little way, and in her doubtful heart
+  With love and fear was mixed desire of life.
+    But standing so, a look with great scorn rife
+  The elder woman, turning, cast on her,
+  Pointing to Ogier, who began to stir;
+  She looked, and all she erst saw now did seem
+  To have been nothing but a hideous dream,
+  As fair and young he rose from off the ground
+  And cast a dazed and puzzled look around,
+  Like one just waked from sleep in some strange place;
+  But soon his grave eyes rested on her face,
+  And turned yet graver seeing her so pale,
+  And that her eyes were pregnant with some tale
+  Of love and fear; she 'neath his eyes the while
+  Forced her pale lips to semblance of a smile,
+  And said, "O Ancient Knight, thou sleepest then?
+  While through this poor land range the heathen men,
+  Unmet of any but my King and Lord:
+  Nay, let us see the deeds of thine old sword."
+    "Queen," said he, "bid me then unto this work,
+  And certes I behind no wall would lurk,
+  Nor send for succour, while a scanty folk
+  Still followed after me to break the yoke:
+  I pray thee grace for sleeping, and were fain
+  That I might rather never sleep again
+  Than have such wretched dreams as I e'en now
+  Have waked from."
+                    Lovelier she seemed to grow
+  Unto him as he spoke; fresh colour came
+  Into her face, as though for some sweet shame,
+  While she with tearful eyes beheld him so,
+  That somewhat even must his burnt cheek glow,
+  His heart beat faster. But again she said,
+  "Nay, will dreams burden such a mighty head?
+  Then may I too have pardon for a dream:
+  Last night in sleep I saw thee, who didst seem
+  To be the King of France; and thou and I
+  Were sitting at some great festivity
+  Within the many-peopled gold-hung place."
+    The blush of shame was gone as on his face
+  She gazed, and saw him read her meaning clear
+  And knew that no cold words she had to fear,
+  But rather that for softer speech he yearned.
+  Therefore, with love alone her smooth cheek burned;
+  Her parted lips were hungry for his kiss,
+  She trembled at the near approaching bliss;
+    Nathless, she checked her love a little while,
+  Because she felt the old dame's curious smile
+  Upon her, and she said, "O Ancient Knight,
+  If I then read my last night's dream aright,
+  Thou art come here our very help to be,
+  Perchance to give my husband back to me;
+  Come then, if thou this land art fain to save,
+  And show the wisdom thou must surely have
+  Unto my council; I will give thee then
+  What charge I may among my valiant men;
+  And certes thou wilt do so well herein,
+  That, ere long, something greater shalt thou win:
+  Come, then, deliverer of my throne and land,
+  And let me touch for once thy mighty hand
+  With these weak fingers."
+                             As she spoke, she met
+  His eager hand, and all things did forget
+  But for one moment, for too wise were they
+  To cast the coming years of joy away;
+  Then with her other hand her gown she raised
+  And led him thence, and o'er her shoulder gazed
+  At her old follower with a doubtful smile,
+  As though to say, "Be wise, I know thy guile!"
+    But slowly she behind the lovers walked,
+  Muttering, "So be it! thou shalt not be balked
+  Of thy desire; be merry! I am wise,
+  Nor will I rob thee of thy Paradise
+  For any other than myself; and thou
+  May'st even happen to have had enow
+  Of this new love, before I get the ring,
+  And I may work for thee no evil thing."
+
+    Now ye shall know that the old chronicle,
+  Wherein I read all this, doth duly tell
+  Of all the gallant deeds that Ogier did,
+  There may ye read them; nor let me be chid
+  If I therefore say little of these things,
+  Because the thought of Avallon still clings
+  Unto my heart, and scarcely can I bear
+  To think of that long, dragging useless year,
+  Through which, with dulled and glimmering memory,
+  Ogier was grown content to live and die
+  Like other men; but this I have to say,
+  That in the council chamber on that day
+  The Old Knight showed his wisdom well enow,
+  While fainter still with love the Queen did grow
+  Hearing his words, beholding his grey eyes
+  Flashing with fire of warlike memories;
+  Yea, at the last he seemed so wise indeed
+  That she could give him now the charge, to lead
+  One wing of the great army that set out
+  From Paris' gates, midst many a wavering shout
+  Midst trembling prayers, and unchecked wails and tears,
+  And slender hopes and unresisted fears.
+
+    Now ere he went, upon his bed he lay,
+  Newly awakened at the dawn of day,
+  Gathering perplexed thoughts of many a thing,
+  When, midst the carol that the birds did sing
+  Unto the coming of the hopeful sun,
+  He heard a sudden lovesome song begun
+  'Twixt two young voices in the garden green,
+  That seemed indeed the farewell of the Queen.
+
+
+  SONG.
+
+  HAEC.
+
+
+    _In the white-flowered hawthorn brake,
+  Love, be merry for my sake;
+  Twine the blossoms in my hair,
+  Kiss me where I am most fair--
+  Kiss me, love! for who knoweth
+  What thing cometh after death?_
+
+  ILLE.
+
+    _Nay, the garlanded gold hair
+  Hides thee where thou art most fair;_
+  _Hides the rose-tinged hills of snow--
+  Ah, sweet love, I have thee now!
+  Kiss me, love! for who knoweth
+  What thing cometh after death?_
+
+  HAEC.
+
+    _Shall we weep for a dead day,
+  Or set Sorrow in our way?
+  Hidden by my golden hair,
+  Wilt thou weep that sweet days wear?
+  Kiss me, love! for who knoweth
+  What thing cometh after death?_
+
+  ILLE.
+
+  _Weep, O Love, the days that flit,
+    Now, while I can feel thy breath;
+  Then may I remember it
+    Sad and old, and near my death.
+  Kiss me, love! for who knoweth
+  What thing cometh after death_?
+
+
+  Soothed by the pleasure that the music brought
+  And sweet desire, and vague and dreamy thought
+  Of happiness it seemed to promise him,
+  He lay and listened till his eyes grew dim,
+  And o'er him 'gan forgetfulness to creep
+  Till in the growing light he lay asleep,
+  Nor woke until the clanging trumpet-blast
+  Had summoned him all thought away to cast:
+  Yet one more joy of love indeed he had
+  Ere with the battle's noise he was made glad;
+  For, as on that May morning forth they rode
+  And passed before the Queen's most fair abode,
+  There at a window was she waiting them
+  In fair attire with gold in every hem,
+  And as the ancient Knight beneath her passed
+  A wreath of flowering white-thorn down she cast,
+  And looked farewell to him, and forth he set
+  Thinking of all the pleasure he should get
+  From love and war, forgetting Avallon
+  And all that lovely life so lightly won;
+  Yea, now indeed the earthly life o'erpast
+  Ere on the loadstone rock his ship was cast
+  Was waxing dim, nor yet at all he learned
+  To 'scape the fire that erst his heart had burned.
+  And he forgat his deeds, forgat his fame,
+  Forgat the letters of his ancient name
+  As one waked fully shall forget a dream,
+  That once to him a wondrous tale did seem.
+
+    Now I, though writing here no chronicle
+  E'en as I said, must nathless shortly tell
+  That, ere the army Rouen's gates could gain
+  By a broad arrow had the King been slain,
+  And helpless now the wretched country lay
+  Beneath the yoke, until the glorious day
+  When Ogier fell at last upon the foe,
+  And scattered them as helplessly as though
+  They had been beaten men without a name:
+  So when to Paris town once more he came
+  Few folk the memory of the King did keep
+  Within their hearts, and if the folk did weep
+  At his returning, 'twas for joy indeed
+  That such a man had risen at their need
+  To work for them so great deliverance,
+  And loud they called on him for King of France.
+
+    But if the Queen's heart were the more a-flame
+  For all that she had heard of his great fame,
+  I know not; rather with some hidden dread
+  Of coming fate, she heard her lord was dead,
+  And her false dream seemed coming true at last,
+  For the clear sky of love seemed overcast
+  With clouds of God's great judgments, and the fear
+  Of hate and final parting drawing near.
+    So now when he before her throne did stand
+  Amidst the throng as saviour of the land,
+  And she her eyes to his kind eyes did raise,
+  And there before all her own love must praise;
+  Then did she fall a-weeping, and folk said,
+  "See, how she sorrows for the newly dead!
+  Amidst our joy she needs must think of him;
+  Let be, full surely shall her grief wax dim
+  And she shall wed again."
+                              So passed the year,
+  While Ogier set himself the land to clear
+  Of broken remnants of the heathen men,
+  And at the last, when May-time came again,
+  Must he be crowned King of the twice-saved land,
+  And at the altar take the fair Queen's hand
+  And wed her for his own. And now by this
+  Had he forgotten clean the woe and bliss
+  Of his old life, and still was he made glad
+  As other men; and hopes and fears he had
+  As others, and bethought him not at all
+  Of what strange days upon him yet should fall
+  When he should live and these again be dead.
+
+    Now drew the time round when he should be wed,
+  And in his palace on his bed he lay
+  Upon the dawning of the very day:
+  'Twixt sleep and waking was he, and could hear
+  E'en at that hour, through the bright morn and clear,
+  The hammering of the folk who toiled to make
+  Some well-wrought stages for the pageant's sake,
+  Though hardly yet the sparrows had begun
+  To twitter o'er the coming of the sun,
+  Nor through the palace did a creature move.
+    There in the sweet entanglement of love
+  Midst languid thoughts of greater bliss he lay,
+  Remembering no more of that other day
+  Than the hot noon remembereth of the night,
+  Than summer thinketh of the winter white.
+    In that sweet hour he heard a voice that cried,
+  "Ogier, Ogier!" then, opening his eyes wide,
+  And rising on his elbow, gazed around,
+  And strange to him and empty was the sound
+  Of his own name; "Whom callest thou?" he said.
+  "For I, the man who lies upon this bed,
+  Am Charles of France, and shall be King to-day,
+  But in a year that now is past away
+  The Ancient Knight they called me: who is this,
+  Thou callest Ogier, then, what deeds are his?
+  And who art thou?" But at that word a sigh,
+  As of one grieved, came from some place anigh
+  His bed-side, and a soft voice spake again,
+  "This Ogier once was great amongst great men;
+  To Italy a helpless hostage led;
+  He saved the King when the false Lombard fled,
+  Bore forth the Oriflamme and gained the day;
+  Charlot he brought back, whom men led away,
+  And fought a day-long fight with Caraheu.
+  The ravager of Rome his right hand slew;
+  Nor did he fear the might of Charlemaine,
+  Who for a dreary year beset in vain
+  His lonely castle; yet at last caught then,
+  And shut in hold, needs must he come again
+  To give an unhoped great deliverance
+  Unto the burdened helpless land of France:
+  Denmark he gained thereafter, and he wore
+  The crown of England drawn from trouble sore;
+  At Tyre then he reigned, and Babylon
+  With mighty deeds he from the foemen won;
+  And when scarce aught could give him greater fame,
+  He left the world still thinking on his name.
+    "These things did Ogier, and these things didst thou,
+  Nor will I call thee by a new name now
+  Since I have spoken words of love to thee--
+  Ogier, Ogier, dost thou remember me,
+  E'en if thou hast no thought of that past time
+  Before thou earnest to our happy clime?"
+
+    As this was said, his mazed eyes saw indeed
+  A lovely woman clad in dainty weed
+  Beside his bed, and many a thought was stirred
+  Within his heart by that last plaintive word,
+  Though nought he said, but waited what should come.
+  "Love," said she, "I am here to bring thee home;
+  Well hast thou done all that thou cam'st to do,
+  And if thou bidest here, for something new
+  Will folk begin to cry, and all thy fame
+  Shall then avail thee but for greater blame;
+  Thy love shall cease to love thee, and the earth
+  Thou lovest now shall be of little worth
+  While still thou keepest life, abhorring it.
+  Behold, in men's lives that so quickly flit
+  Thus is it, how then shall it be with thee,
+  Who some faint image of eternity
+  Hast gained through me?--alas, thou heedest not!
+  On all these changing things thine heart is hot--
+  Take then this gift that I have brought from far,
+  And then may'st thou remember what we are;
+  The lover and the loved from long ago."
+    He trembled, and more memory seemed to grow
+  Within his heart as he beheld her stand,
+  Holding a glittering crown in her right hand:
+  "Ogier," she said, "arise and do on thee
+  The emblems of thy worldly sovereignity,
+  For we must pass o'er many a sea this morn."
+    He rose, and in the glittering tunic worn
+  By Charlemaine he clad himself, and took
+  The ivory hand, that Charlemaine once shook
+  Over the people's head in days of old;
+  Then on his feet he set the shoes of gold,
+  And o'er his shoulders threw the mantle fair,
+  And set the gold crown on his golden hair:
+  Then on the royal chair he sat him down,
+  As though he deemed the elders of the town
+  Should come to audience; and in all he seemed
+  To do these things e'en as a man who dreamed.
+
+    And now adown the Seine the golden sun
+  Shone out, as toward him drew that lovely one
+  And took from off his head the royal crown,
+  And, smiling, on the pillow laid it down
+  And said, "Lie there, O crown of Charlemaine,
+  Worn by a mighty man, and worn in vain,
+  Because he died, and all the things he did
+  Were changed before his face by earth was hid;
+  A better crown I have for my love's head,
+  Whereby he yet shall live, when all are dead
+  His hand has helped." Then on his head she set
+  The wondrous crown, and said, "Forget, forget!
+  Forget these weary things, for thou hast much
+  Of happiness to think of."
+                             At that touch
+  He rose, a happy light gleamed in his eyes;
+  And smitten by the rush of memories,
+  He stammered out, "O love! how came we here?
+  What do we in this land of Death and Fear?
+  Have I not been from thee a weary while?
+  Let us return--I dreamed about the isle;
+  I dreamed of other years of strife and pain,
+  Of new years full of struggles long and vain."
+    She took him by the hand and said, "Come, love,
+  I am not changed;" and therewith did they move
+  Unto the door, and through the sleeping place
+  Swiftly they went, and still was Ogier's face
+  Turned on her beauty, and no thought was his
+  Except the dear returning of his bliss.
+    But at the threshold of the palace-gate
+  That opened to them, she awhile did wait,
+  And turned her eyes unto the rippling Seine
+  And said, "O love, behold it once again!"
+  He turned, and gazed upon the city grey
+  Smit by the gold of that sweet morn of May;
+  He heard faint noises as of wakening folk
+  As on their heads his day of glory broke;
+  He heard the changing rush of the swift stream
+  Against the bridge-piers. All was grown a dream.
+  His work was over, his reward was come,
+  Why should he loiter longer from his home?
+
+    A little while she watched him silently,
+  Then beckoned him to follow with a sigh,
+  And, raising up the raiment from her feet,
+  Across the threshold stepped into the street;
+  One moment on the twain the low sun shone,
+  And then the place was void, and they were gone
+  How I know not; but this I know indeed,
+  That in whatso great trouble or sore need
+  The land of France since that fair day has been,
+  No more the sword of Ogier has she seen.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+  Such was the tale he told of Avallon,
+  E'en such an one as in days past had won
+  His youthful heart to think upon the quest;
+  But to those old hearts nigh in reach of rest,
+  Not much to be desired now it seemed--
+  Perchance the heart that of such things had dreamed
+  Had found no words in this death-laden tongue
+  We speak on earth, wherewith they might be sung;
+  Perchance the changing years that changed his heart
+  E'en in the words of that old tale had part,
+  Changing its sweet to bitter, to despair
+  The foolish hope that once had glittered there--
+  Or think, that in some bay of that far home
+  They then had sat, and watched the green waves come
+  Up to their feet with many promises;
+  Or the light wind midst blossom-laden trees,
+  In the sweet Spring had weighted many a word
+  Of no worth now, and many a hope had stirred
+  Long dead for ever.
+                       Howsoe'er that be
+  Among strange folk they now sat quietly,
+  As though that tale with them had nought to do,
+  As though its hopes and fears were something new.
+  But though, indeed, the outworn, dwindled band
+  Had no tears left for that once longed-for land,
+  The very wind must moan for their decay,
+  And from the sky, grown dull, and low, and grey,
+  Cold tears must fall upon the lonely field,
+  That such fair golden hopes erewhile did yield;
+  And on the blackening woods, wherein the doves
+  Sat silent now, forgetful of their loves.
+  Yet, since a little life at least was left,
+  They were not yet of every joy bereft,
+  For long ago was past the agony,
+  Midst which they found that they indeed must die;
+  And now well-nigh as much their pain was past
+  As though death's veil already had been cast
+  Over their heads--so, midst some little mirth,
+  They watched the dark night hide the gloomy earth.
+
+
+
+
+  THE GOLDEN APPLES.
+
+This tale tells of the voyage of a ship of Tyre, that, against the will
+of the shipmen, bore Hercules to an unknown land of the West, that he
+might accomplish a task laid on him by the Fates.
+
+
+    As many as the leaves fall from the tree,
+  From the world's life the years are fallen away
+  Since King Eurystheus sat in majesty
+  In fair Mycenae; midmost of whose day
+  It once befell that in a quiet bay
+  A ship of Tyre was swinging nigh the shore,
+  Her folk for sailing handling rope and oar.
+
+    Fresh was the summer morn, a soft wind stole
+  Down from the sheep-browsed slopes the cliffs that crowned,
+  And ruffled lightly the long gleaming roll
+  Of the peaceful sea, and bore along the sound
+  Of shepherd-folk and sheep and questing hound,
+  For in the first dip of the hillside there
+  Lay bosomed 'mid its trees a homestead fair.
+
+    Amid regrets for last night, when the moon,
+  Risen on the soft dusk, shone on maidens' feet
+  Brushing the gold-heart lilies to the tune
+  Of pipes complaining, o'er the grass down-beat
+  That mixed with dewy flowers its odour sweet,
+  The shipmen laboured, till the sail unfurled
+  Swung round the prow to meet another world.
+
+    But ere the anchor had come home, a shout
+  Rang from the strand, as though the ship were hailed.
+  Whereat the master bade them stay, in doubt
+  That they without some needful thing had sailed;
+  When, lo! from where the cliff's steep grey sides failed
+  Into a ragged stony slip, came twain
+  Who seemed in haste the ready keel to gain.
+
+    Soon they drew nigh, and he who first came down
+  Unto the surf was a man huge of limb,
+  Grey-eyed, with crisp-curled hair 'twixt black and brown,
+  Who had a lion's skin cast over him,
+  So wrought with gold that the fell showed but dim
+  Betwixt the threads, and in his hand he bore
+  A mighty club with bands of steel done o'er.
+
+    Panting there followed him a grey old man,
+  Bearing a long staff, clad in gown of blue,
+  Feeble of aspect, hollow-cheeked and wan,
+  Who when unto his fellow's side he drew,
+  Said faintly: "Now, do that which thou shouldst do;
+  This is the ship." Then in the other's eye
+  A smile gleamed, and he spake out merrily:
+
+    "Masters, folk tell me that ye make for Tyre,
+  And after that still nearer to the sun;
+  And since Fate bids me look to die by fire,
+  Fain am I, ere my worldly day be done,
+  To know what from earth's hottest can be won;
+  And this old man, my kinsman, would with me.
+  How say ye, will ye bear us o'er the sea?"
+
+    "What is thy name?" the master said: "And know
+  That we are merchants, and for nought give nought;
+  What wilt thou pay?--thou seem'st full rich, I trow."
+  The old man muttered, stooped adown and caught
+  At something in the sand: "E'en so I thought,"
+  The younger said, "when I set out from home--
+  As to my name, perchance in days to come
+
+    "Thou shalt know that--but have heed, take this toy,
+  And call me the Strong Man." And as he spake
+  The master's deep-brown eyes 'gan gleam with joy,
+  For from his arm a huge ring did he take,
+  And cast it on the deck, where it did break
+  A water-jar, and in the wet shards lay
+  Golden, and gleaming like the end of day.
+
+    But the old man held out a withered hand,
+  Wherein there shone two pearls most great and fair,
+  And said, "If any nigher I might stand,
+  Then might'st thou see the things I give thee here--
+  And for a name--a many names I bear,
+  But call me Shepherd of the Shore this tide,
+  And for more knowledge with a good will bide."
+
+    From one to the other turned the master's eyes;
+  The Strong Man laughed as at some hidden jest,
+  And wild doubts in the shipman's heart did rise;
+  But thinking on the thing, he deemed it best
+  To bid them come aboard, and take such rest
+  As they might have of the untrusty sea,
+  'Mid men who trusty fellows still should be.
+
+    Then no more words the Strong Man made, but straight
+  Caught up the elder in his arms, and so,
+  Making no whit of all that added weight,
+  Strode to the ship, right through the breakers low,
+  And catching at the rope that they did throw
+  Out toward his hand, swung up into the ship;
+  Then did the master let the hawser slip.
+
+    The shapely prow cleft the wet mead and green,
+  And wondering drew the shipmen round to gaze
+  Upon those limbs, the mightiest ever seen;
+  And many deemed it no light thing to face
+  The splendour of his eyen, though they did blaze
+  With no wrath now, no hate for them to dread,
+  As seaward 'twixt the summer isles they sped.
+
+    Freshened the wind, but ever fair it blew
+  Unto the south-east; but as failed the land,
+  Unto the plunging prow the Strong Man drew,
+  And silent, gazing with wide eyes did stand,
+  As though his heart found rest; but 'mid the band
+  Of shipmen in the stern the old man sat,
+  Telling them tales that no man there forgat.
+
+    As one who had beheld, he told them there
+  Of the sweet singer, whom, for his song's sake,
+  The dolphins back from choking death did bear;
+  How in the mid sea did the vine outbreak
+  O'er that ill bark when Bacchus 'gan to wake;
+  How anigh Cyprus, ruddy with the rose
+  The cold sea grew as any June-loved close;
+
+    While on the flowery shore all things alive
+  Grew faint with sense of birth of some delight,
+  And the nymphs waited trembling there, to give
+  Glad welcome to the glory of that sight:
+  He paused then, ere he told how, wild and white,
+  Rose ocean, breaking o'er a race accurst,
+  A world once good, now come unto its worst.
+
+    And then he smiled, and said, "And yet ye won,
+  Ye men, and tremble not on days like these,
+  Nor think with what a mind Prometheus' son
+  Beheld the last of the torn reeling trees
+  From high Parnassus: slipping through the seas
+  Ye never think, ye men-folk, how ye seem
+  From down below through the green waters' gleam."
+
+    Dusk was it now when these last words he said,
+  And little of his visage might they see,
+  But o'er their hearts stole vague and troublous dread,
+  They knew not why; yet ever quietly
+  They sailed that night; nor might a morning be
+  Fairer than was the next morn; and they went
+  Along their due course after their intent.
+
+    The fourth day, about sunrise, from the mast
+  The watch cried out he saw Phoenician land;
+  Whereat the Strong Man on the elder cast
+  A look askance, and he straight took his stand
+  Anigh the prow, and gazed beneath his hand
+  Upon the low sun and the scarce-seen shore,
+  Till cloud-flecks rose, and gathered and drew o'er.
+
+    The morn grown cold; then small rain 'gan to fall,
+  And all the wind dropped dead, and hearts of men
+  Sank, and their bark seemed helpless now and small;
+  Then suddenly the wind 'gan moan again;
+  Sails flapped, and ropes beat wild about; and then
+  Down came the great east wind; and the ship ran
+  Straining, heeled o'er, through seas all changed and wan.
+
+    Westward, scarce knowing night from day, they drave
+  Through sea and sky grown one; the Strong Man wrought
+  With mighty hands, and seemed a god to save;
+  But on the prow, heeding all weather nought,
+  The elder stood, nor any prop he sought,
+  But swayed to the ship's wallowing, as on wings
+  He there were set above the wrack of things.
+
+    And westward still they drave; and if they saw
+  Land upon either side, as on they sped,
+  'Twas but as faces in a dream may draw
+  Anigh, and fade, and leave nought in their stead;
+  And in the shipmen's hearts grew heavy dread
+  To sick despair; they deemed they should drive on
+  Till the world's edge and empty space were won.
+
+    But 'neath the Strong Man's eyes e'en as they might
+  They toiled on still; and he sang to the wind,
+  And spread his arms to meet the waters white,
+  As o'er the deck they tumbled, making blind
+  The brine-drenched shipmen; nor with eye unkind
+  He gazed up at the lightning; nor would frown
+  When o'er the wet waste Jove's bolt rattled down.
+
+    And they, who at the last had come to think
+  Their guests were very gods, with all their fear
+  Feared nought belike that their good ship would sink
+  Amid the storm; but rather looked to hear
+  The last moan of the wind that them should bear
+  Into the windless stream of ocean grey,
+  Where they should float till dead was every day.
+
+    Yet their fear mocked them; for the storm 'gan die
+  About the tenth day, though unto the west
+  They drave on still; soon fair and quietly
+  The morn would break: and though amid their rest
+  Nought but long evil wandering seemed the best
+  That they might hope for; still, despite their dread,
+  Sweet was the quiet sea and goodlihead
+
+    Of the bright sun at last come back again;
+  And as the days passed, less and less fear grew,
+  If without cause, till faded all their pain;
+  And they 'gan turn unto their guests anew,
+  Yet durst ask nought of what that evil drew
+  Upon their heads; or of returning speak.
+  Happy they felt, but listless, spent, and weak.
+
+    And now as at the first the elder was,
+  And sat and told them tales of yore agone;
+  But ever the Strong Man up and down would pass
+  About the deck, or on the prow alone
+  Would stand and stare out westward; and still on
+  Through a fair summer sea they went, nor thought
+  Of what would come when these days turned to nought.
+
+    And now when twenty days were well passed o'er
+  They made a new land; cloudy mountains high
+  Rose from the sea at first; then a green shore
+  Spread fair below them: as they drew anigh
+  No sloping, stony strand could they espy,
+  And no surf breaking; the green sea and wide
+  Wherethrough they slipped was driven by no tide.
+
+    Dark fell ere they might set their eager feet
+  Upon the shore; but night-long their ship lay
+  As in a deep stream, by the blossoms sweet
+  That flecked the grass whence flowers ne'er passed away.
+  But when the cloud-barred east brought back the day,
+  And turned the western mountain-tops to gold,
+  Fresh fear the shipmen in their bark did hold.
+
+    For as a dream seemed all; too fair for those
+  Who needs must die; moreover they could see,
+  A furlong off, 'twixt apple-tree and rose,
+  A brazen wall that gleamed out wondrously
+  In the young sun, and seemed right long to be;
+  And memory of all marvels lay upon
+  Their shrinking hearts now this sweet place was won.
+
+    But when unto the nameless guests they turned,
+  Who stood together nigh the plank shot out
+  Shoreward, within the Strong Man's eyes there burned
+  A wild light, as the other one in doubt
+  He eyed a moment; then with a great shout
+  Leaped into the blossomed grass; the echoes rolled
+  Back from the hills, harsh still and over-bold.
+
+    Slowly the old man followed him, and still
+  The crew held back: they knew now they were brought
+  Over the sea the purpose to fulfil
+  Of these strange men; and in their hearts they thought,
+  "Perchance we yet shall live, if, meddling nought
+  With dreams, we bide here till these twain come back;
+  But prying eyes the fire-blast seldom lack."
+
+    Yet 'mongst them were two fellows bold and young,
+  Who, looking each upon the other's face,
+  Their hearts to meet the unknown danger strung,
+  And went ashore, and at a gentle pace
+  Followed the strangers, who unto the place
+  Where the wall gleamed had turned; peace and desire
+  Mingled together in their hearts, as nigher
+
+    They drew unto that wall, and dulled their fear:
+  Fair wrought it was, as though with bricks of brass;
+  And images upon its face there were,
+  Stories of things a long while come to pass:
+  Nor that alone--as looking in a glass
+  Its maker knew the tales of what should be,
+  And wrought them there for bird and beast to see.
+
+    So on they went; the many birds sang sweet
+  Through all that blossomed thicket from above,
+  And unknown flowers bent down before their feet;
+  The very air, cleft by the grey-winged dove,
+  Throbbed with sweet scent, and smote their souls with love.
+  Slowly they went till those twain stayed before
+  A strangely-wrought and iron-covered door.
+
+    They stayed, too, till o'er noise of wind, and bird,
+  And falling flower, there rang a mighty shout
+  As the Strong Man his steel-bound club upreared,
+  And drave it 'gainst the hammered iron stout,
+  Where 'neath his blows flew bolt and rivet out,
+  Till shattered on the ground the great door lay,
+  And into the guarded place bright poured the day.
+
+    The Strong Man entered, but his fellow stayed,
+  Leaning against a tree-trunk as they deemed.
+  They faltered now, and yet all things being weighed
+  Went on again; and thought they must have dreamed
+  Of the old man, for now the sunlight streamed
+  Full on the tree he had been leaning on,
+  And him they saw not go, yet was he gone:
+
+    Only a slim green lizard flitted there
+  Amidst the dry leaves; him they noted nought,
+  But trembling, through the doorway 'gan to peer,
+  And still of strange and dreadful saw not aught,
+  Only a garden fair beyond all thought.
+  And there, 'twixt sun and shade, the Strong Man went
+  On some long-sought-for end belike intent.
+
+    They 'gan to follow down a narrow way
+  Of green-sward that the lilies trembled o'er,
+  And whereon thick the scattered rose-leaves lay;
+  But a great wonder weighed upon them sore,
+  And well they thought they should return no more,
+  Yet scarce a pain that seemed; they looked to meet
+  Before they died things strange and fair and sweet.
+
+    So still to right and left the Strong Man thrust
+  The blossomed boughs, and passed on steadily,
+  As though his hardy heart he well did trust,
+  Till in a while he gave a joyous cry,
+  And hastened on, as though the end drew nigh;
+  And women's voices then they deemed they heard,
+  Mixed with a noise that made desire afeard.
+
+    Yet through sweet scents and sounds on did they bear
+  Their panting hearts, till the path ended now
+  In a wide space of green, a streamlet clear
+  From out a marble basin there did flow,
+  And close by that a slim-trunked tree did grow,
+  And on a bough low o'er the water cold
+  There hung three apples of red-gleaming gold.
+
+    About the tree, new risen e'en now to meet
+  The shining presence of that mighty one,
+  Three damsels stood, naked from head to feet
+  Save for the glory of their hair, where sun
+  And shadow flickered, while the wind did run
+  Through the grey leaves o'erhead, and shook the grass
+  Where nigh their feet the wandering bee did pass.
+
+    But 'midst their delicate limbs and all around
+  The tree-roots, gleaming blue black could they see
+  The spires of a great serpent, that, enwound
+  About the smooth bole, looked forth threateningly,
+  With glittering eyes and raised crest, o'er the three
+  Fair heads fresh crowned, and hissed above the speech
+  Wherewith they murmured softly each to each.
+
+    Now the Strong Man amid the green space stayed,
+  And leaning on his club, with eager eyes
+  But brow yet smooth, in voice yet friendly said:
+  "O daughters of old Hesperus the Wise,
+  Well have ye held your guard here; but time tries
+  The very will of gods, and to my hand
+  Must give this day the gold fruit of your land."
+
+    Then spake the first maid--sweet as the west wind
+  Amidst of summer noon her sweet voice was:
+  "Ah, me! what knows this place of changing mind
+  Of men or gods; here shall long ages pass,
+  And clean forget thy feet upon the grass,
+  Thy hapless bones amid the fruitful mould;
+  Look at thy death envenomed swift and cold!"
+
+    Hiding new flowers, the dull coils, as she spake,
+  Moved near her limbs: but then the second one,
+  In such a voice as when the morn doth wake
+  To song of birds, said, "When the world foredone
+  Has moaned its last, still shall we dwell alone
+  Beneath this bough, and have no tales to tell
+  Of things deemed great that on the earth befell."
+
+    Then spake the third, in voice as of the flute
+  That wakes the maiden to her wedding morn:
+  "If any god should gain our golden fruit,
+  Its curse would make his deathless life forlorn.
+  Lament thou, then, that ever thou wert born;
+  Yet all things, changed by joy or loss or pain,
+  To what they were shall change and change again."
+
+    "So be it," he said, "the Fates that drive me on
+  Shall slay me or shall save; blessing or curse
+  That followeth after when the thing is won
+  Shall make my work no better now nor worse;
+  And if it be that the world's heart must nurse
+  Hatred against me, how then shall I choose
+  To leave or take?--let your dread servant loose!"
+
+    E'en therewith, like a pillar of black smoke,
+  Swift, shifting ever, drave the worm at him;
+  In deadly silence now that nothing broke,
+  Its folds were writhing round him trunk and limb,
+  Until his glittering gear was nought but dim
+  E'en in that sunshine, while his head and side
+  And breast the fork-tongued, pointed muzzle tried.
+
+    Closer the coils drew, quicker all about
+  The forked tongue darted, and yet stiff he stood,
+  E'en as an oak that sees the straw flare out
+  And lick its ancient bole for little good:
+  Until the godlike fury of his mood
+  Burst from his heart in one great shattering cry,
+  And rattling down the loosened coils did lie;
+
+    And from the torn throat and crushed dreadful head
+  Forth flowed a stream of blood along the grass;
+  Bright in the sun he stood above the dead,
+  Panting with fury; yet as ever was
+  The wont of him, soon did his anger pass,
+  And with a happy smile at last he turned
+  To where the apples o'er the water burned.
+
+    Silent and moveless ever stood the three;
+  No change came o'er their faces, as his hand
+  Was stretched aloft unto the sacred tree;
+  Nor shrank they aught aback, though he did stand
+  So close that tresses of their bright hair, fanned
+  By the sweet garden breeze, lay light on him,
+  And his gold fell brushed by them breast and limb.
+
+    He drew adown the wind-stirred bough, and took
+  The apples thence; then let it spring away,
+  And from his brow the dark hair backward shook,
+  And said: "O sweet, O fair, and shall this day
+  A curse upon my life henceforward lay--
+  This day alone? Methinks of coming life
+  Somewhat I know, with all its loss and strife.
+
+    "But this I know, at least: the world shall wend
+  Upon its way, and, gathering joy and grief
+  And deeds done, bear them with it to the end;
+  So shall it, though I lie as last year's leaf
+  Lies 'neath a summer tree, at least receive
+  My life gone by, and store it, with the gain
+  That men alive call striving, wrong, and pain.
+
+    "So for my part I rather bless than curse,
+  And bless this fateful land; good be with it;
+  Nor for this deadly thing's death is it worse,
+  Nor for the lack of gold; still shall ye sit
+  Watching the swallow o'er the daisies flit;
+  Still shall your wandering limbs ere day is done
+  Make dawn desired by the sinking sun.
+
+    "And now, behold! in memory of all this
+  Take ye this girdle that shall waste and fade
+  As fadeth not your fairness and your bliss,
+  That when hereafter 'mid the blossoms laid
+  Ye talk of days and men now nothing made,
+  Ye may remember how the Theban man,
+  The son of Jove, came o'er the waters wan."
+
+    Their faces changed not aught for all they heard;
+  As though all things now fully told out were,
+  They gazed upon him without any word:
+  Ah! craving kindness, hope, or loving care,
+  Their fairness scarcely could have made more fair,
+  As with the apples folded in his fell
+  He went, to do more deeds for folk to tell.
+
+    Now as the girdle on the ground was cast
+  Those fellows turned and hurried toward the door,
+  And as across its broken leaves they passed
+  The old man saw they not, e'en as before;
+  But an unearthed blind mole bewildered sore
+  Was wandering there in fruitless, aimless wise,
+  That got small heed from their full-sated eyes.
+
+    Swift gat they to their anxious folk; nor had
+  More time than just to say, "Be of good cheer,
+  For in our own land may we yet be glad,"
+  When they beheld the guests a-drawing near;
+  And much bewildered the two fellows were
+  To see the old man, and must even deem
+  That they should see things stranger than a dream.
+
+    But when they were aboard the elder cried,
+  "Up sails, my masters, fair now is the wind;
+  Nor good it is too long here to abide,
+  Lest what ye may not loose your souls should bind."
+  And as he spake, the tall trees left behind
+  Stirred with the rising land-wind, and the crew,
+  Joyous thereat, the hawsers shipward drew.
+
+    Swift sped the ship, and glad at heart were all,
+  And the Strong Man was merry with the rest,
+  And from the elder's lips no word did fall
+  That did not seem to promise all the best;
+  Yet with a certain awe were men oppressed,
+  And felt as if their inmost hearts were bare,
+  And each man's secret babbled through the air.
+
+    Still oft the old man sat with them and told
+  Tales of past time, as on the outward way;
+  And now would they the face of him behold
+  And deem it changed; the years that on him lay
+  Seemed to grow nought, and no more wan and grey
+  He looked, but ever glorious, wise and strong,
+  As though no lapse of time for him were long.
+
+    At last, when six days through the kindly sea
+  Their keel had slipped, he said: "Come hearken now,
+  For so it is that things fare wondrously
+  E'en in these days; and I a tale can show
+  That, told by you unto your sons shall grow
+  A marvel of the days that are to come:
+  Take heed and tell it when ye reach your home.
+
+    "Yet living in the world a man there is
+  Men call the Theban King Amphitryon's son,
+  Although perchance a greater sire was his;
+  But certainly his lips have hung upon
+  Alcmena's breasts: great deeds this man hath won
+  Already, for his name is Hercules,
+  And e'en ye Asian folk have heard of these.
+
+    "Now ere the moon, this eve in his last wane,
+  Was born, this Hercules, the fated thrall
+  Of King Eurystheus, was straight bid to gain
+  Gifts from a land whereon no foot doth fall
+  Of mortal man, beyond the misty wall
+  Of unknown waters; pensively he went
+  Along the sea on his hard life intent.
+
+    "And at the dawn he came into a bay
+  Where the sea, ebbed far down, left wastes of sand,
+  Walled from the green earth by great cliffs and grey;
+  Then he looked up, and wondering there did stand,
+  For strange things lay in slumber on the strand;
+  Strange counterparts of what the firm earth hath
+  Lay scattered all about his weary path:
+
+    "Sea-lions and sea-horses and sea-kine,
+  Sea-boars, sea-men strange-skinned, of wondrous hair;
+  And in their midst a man who seemed divine
+  For changeless eld, and round him women fair,
+  Clad in the sea-webs glassy green and clear
+  With gems on head and girdle, limb and breast,
+  Such as earth knoweth not among her best.
+
+    "A moment at the fair and wondrous sight
+  He stared, then, since the heart in him was good,
+  He went about with careful steps and light
+  Till o'er the sleeping sea-god now he stood;
+  And if the white-foot maids had stirred his blood
+  As he passed by, now other thoughts had place
+  Within his heart when he beheld that face.
+
+    "For Nereus now he knew, who knows all things;
+  And to himself he said, 'If I prevail,
+  Better than by some god-wrought eagle-wings
+  Shall I be holpen;' then he cried out: 'Hail,
+  O Nereus! lord of shifting hill and dale!
+  Arise and wrestle; I am Hercules!
+  Not soon now shalt thou meet the ridgy seas.'
+
+    "And mightily he cast himself on him;
+  And Nereus cried out shrilly; and straightway
+  That sleeping crowd, fair maid with half-hid limb,
+  Strange man and green-haired beast, made no delay,
+  But glided down into the billows grey,
+  And, by the lovely sea embraced, were gone,
+  While they two wrestled on the sea strand lone.
+
+    "Soon found the sea-god that his bodily might
+  Was nought in dealing with Jove's dear one there;
+  And soon he 'gan to use his magic sleight:
+  Into a lithe leopard, and a hugging bear
+  He turned him; then the smallest fowl of air
+  The straining arms of Hercules must hold,
+  And then a mud-born wriggling eel and cold.
+
+    "Then as the firm hands mastered this, forth brake
+  A sudden rush of waters all around,
+  Blinding and choking: then a thin green snake
+  With golden eyes; then o'er the shell-strewn ground
+  Forth stole a fly the least that may be found;
+  Then earth and heaven seemed wrapped in one huge flame,
+  But from the midst thereof a voice there came:
+
+    "'Kinsman and stout-heart, thou hast won the day,
+  Nor to my grief: what wouldst thou have of me?'
+  And therewith to an old man small and grey
+  Faded the roaring flame, who wearily
+  Sat down upon the sand and said, 'Let be!
+  I know thy tale; worthy of help thou art;
+  Come now, a short way hence will there depart
+
+    "'A ship of Tyre for the warm southern seas,
+  Come we a-board; according to my will
+  Her way shall be.' Then up rose Hercules,
+  Merry of face, though hot and panting still;
+  But the fair summer day his heart did fill
+  With all delight; and so forth went the twain,
+  And found those men desirous of all gain.
+
+    "Ah, for these gainful men--somewhat indeed
+  Their sails are rent, their bark beat; kin and friend
+  Are wearying for them; yet a friend in need
+  They yet shall gain, if at their journey's end,
+  Upon the last ness where the wild goats wend
+  To lick the salt-washed stones, a house they raise
+  Bedight with gold in kindly Nereus' praise."
+
+    Breathless they waited for these latest words,
+  That like the soft wind of the gathering night
+  Were grown to be: about the mast flew birds
+  Making their moan, hovering long-winged and white;
+  And now before their straining anxious sight
+  The old man faded out into the air,
+  And from his place flew forth a sea-mew fair.
+
+    Then to the Mighty Man, Alcmena's son,
+  With yearning hearts they turned till he should speak,
+  And he spake softly: "Nought ill have ye done
+  In helping me to find what I did seek:
+  The world made better by me knows if weak
+  My hand and heart are: but now, light the fire
+  Upon the prow and worship the grey sire."
+
+    So did they; and such gifts as there they had
+  Gave unto Nereus; yea, and sooth to say,
+  Amid the tumult of their hearts made glad,
+  Had honoured Hercules in e'en such way;
+  But he laughed out amid them, and said, "Nay,
+  Not yet the end is come; nor have I yet
+  Bowed down before vain longing and regret.
+
+    "It may be--who shall tell, when I go back
+  There whence I came, and looking down behold
+  The place that my once eager heart shall lack,
+  And all my dead desires a-lying cold,
+  But I may have the might then to enfold
+  The hopes of brave men in my heart?--but long
+  Life lies before first with its change and wrong."
+
+    So fair along the watery ways they sped
+  In happy wise, nor failed of their return;
+  Nor failed in ancient Tyre the ways to tread,
+  Teaching their tale to whomsoever would learn,
+  Nor failed at last the flesh of beasts to burn
+  In Nereus' house, turned toward the bright day's end
+  On the last ness, round which the wild goats wend.
+
+
+
+
+  L'ENVOI.
+
+
+    Here are we for the last time face to face,
+  Thou and I, Book, before I bid thee speed
+  Upon thy perilous journey to that place
+  For which I have done on thee pilgrim's weed,
+  Striving to get thee all things for thy need--
+  --I love thee, whatso time or men may say
+  Of the poor singer of an empty day.
+
+    Good reason why I love thee, e'en if thou
+  Be mocked or clean forgot as time wears on;
+  For ever as thy fashioning did grow,
+  Kind word and praise because of thee I won
+  From those without whom were my world all gone,
+  My hope fallen dead, my singing cast away,
+  And I set soothly in an empty day.
+
+    I love thee; yet this last time must it be,
+  That thou must hold thy peace and I must speak,
+  Lest if thou babble I begin to see
+  Thy gear too thin, thy limbs and heart too weak,
+  To find the land thou goest forth to seek--
+  --Though what harm if thou die upon the way,
+  Thou idle singer of an empty day?
+
+    But though this land desired thou never reach,
+  Yet folk who know it mayst thou meet or death;
+  Therefore a word unto thee would I teach
+  To answer these, who, noting thy weak breath,
+  Thy wandering eyes, thy heart of little faith,
+  May make thy fond desire a sport and play,
+  Mocking the singer of an empty day.
+
+    That land's name, say'st thou? and the road thereto?
+  Nay, Book, thou mockest, saying thou know'st it not;
+  Surely no book of verse I ever knew
+  But ever was the heart within him hot
+  To gain the Land of Matters Unforgot--
+  --There, now we both laugh--as the whole world may,
+  At us poor singers of an empty day.
+
+    Nay, let it pass, and hearken! Hast thou heard
+  That therein I believe I have a friend,
+  Of whom for love I may not be afeard?
+  It is to him indeed I bid thee wend;
+  Yea, he perchance may meet thee ere thou end,
+  Dying so far off from the hedge of bay,
+  Thou idle singer of an empty day!
+
+    Well, think of him, I bid thee, on the road,
+  And if it hap that midst of thy defeat,
+  Fainting beneath thy follies' heavy load,
+  My Master, Geoffrey Chaucer, thou do meet,
+  Then shalt thou win a space of rest full sweet;
+  Then be thou bold, and speak the words I say,
+  The idle singer of an empty day!
+
+    "O Master, O thou great of heart and tongue,
+  Thou well mayst ask me why I wander here,
+  In raiment rent of stories oft besung!
+  But of thy gentleness draw thou anear,
+  And then the heart of one who held thee dear
+  Mayst thou behold! So near as that I lay
+  Unto the singer of an empty day.
+
+    "For this he ever said, who sent me forth
+  To seek a place amid thy company;
+  That howsoever little was my worth,
+  Yet was he worth e'en just so much as I;
+  He said that rhyme hath little skill to lie:
+  Nor feigned to cast his worser part away
+  In idle singing for an empty day.
+
+    "I have beheld him tremble oft enough
+  At things he could not choose but trust to me,
+  Although he knew the world was wise and rough:
+  And never did he fail to let me see
+  His love,--his folly and faithlessness, may be;
+  And still in turn I gave him voice to pray
+  Such prayers as cling about an empty day.
+
+    "Thou, keen-eyed, reading me, mayst read him through,
+  For surely little is there left behind;
+  No power great deeds unnameable to do;
+  No knowledge for which words he may not find,
+  No love of things as vague as autumn wind--
+  --Earth of the earth lies hidden by my clay,
+  The idle singer of an empty day!
+
+    "Children we twain are, saith he, late made wise
+  In love, but in all else most childish still,
+  And seeking still the pleasure of our eyes,
+  And what our ears with sweetest sounds may fill;
+  Not fearing Love, lest these things he should kill;
+  Howe'er his pain by pleasure doth he lay,
+  Making a strange tale of an empty day.
+
+    "Death have we hated, knowing not what it meant;
+  Life have we loved, through green leaf and through sere,
+  Though still the less we knew of its intent:
+  The Earth and Heaven through countless year on year,
+  Slow changing, were to us but curtains fair,
+  Hung round about a little room, where play
+  Weeping and laughter of man's empty day.
+
+    "O Master, if thine heart could love us yet,
+  Spite of things left undone, and wrongly done,
+  Some place in loving hearts then should we get,
+  For thou, sweet-souled, didst never stand alone,
+  But knew'st the joy and woe of many an one--
+  --By lovers dead, who live through thee we pray,
+  Help thou us singers of an empty day!"
+
+    Fearest thou, Book, what answer thou mayst gain
+  Lest he should scorn thee, and thereof thou die?
+  Nay, it shall not be.--Thou mayst toil in vain,
+  And never draw the House of Fame anigh;
+  Yet he and his shall know whereof we cry,
+  Shall call it not ill done to strive to lay
+  The ghosts that crowd about life's empty day.
+
+    Then let the others go! and if indeed
+  In some old garden thou and I have wrought,
+  And made fresh flowers spring up from hoarded seed,
+  And fragrance of old days and deeds have brought
+  Back to folk weary; all was not for nought.
+  --No little part it was for me to play--
+  The idle singer of an empty day.
+
+
+
+
+  FROM "LOVE IS ENOUGH."
+
+  INTERLUDES.
+
+
+  1.
+
+  Love is enough; though the World be a-waning
+  And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining,
+    Though the sky be too dark for dim eyes to discover
+  The gold-cups and daisies fair blooming thereunder,
+  Though the hills be held shadows, and the sea a dark wonder,
+    And this day draw a veil over all deeds, passed over,
+  Yet their hands shall not tremble, their feet shall not falter;
+  The void shall not weary, the fear shall not alter
+    These lips and these eyes of the loved and the lover.
+
+
+  2.
+
+  Love is enough: it grew up without heeding
+    In the days when ye knew not its name nor its measure,
+    And its leaflets untrodden by the light feet of pleasure
+  Had no boast of the blossom, no sign of the seeding,
+    As the morning and evening passed over its treasure.
+
+  And what do ye say then?--that Spring long departed
+    Has brought forth no child to the softness and showers;
+    --That we slept and we dreamed through the Summer of flowers;
+  We dreamed of the Winter, and waking dead-hearted
+    Found Winter upon us and waste of dull hours.
+
+  Nay, Spring was o'er happy and knew not the reason,
+    And Summer dreamed sadly, for she thought all was ended
+    In her fulness of wealth that might not be amended;
+  But this is the harvest and the garnering season,
+    And the leaf and the blossom in the ripe fruit are blended.
+
+  It sprang without sowing, it grew without heeding,
+    Ye knew not its name and ye knew not its measure,
+    Ye noted it not mid your hope and your pleasure;
+  There was pain in its blossom, despair in its seeding,
+    But daylong your bosom now nurseth its treasure.
+
+
+  3.
+
+  Love is enough: draw near and behold me
+    Ye who pass by the way to your rest and your laughter,
+    And are full of the hope of the dawn coming after
+  For the strong of the world have bought me and sold me
+    And my house is all wasted from threshold to rafter.
+      --Pass by me, and hearken, and think of me not!
+
+  Cry out and come near; for my ears may not hearken,
+    And my eyes are grown dim as the eyes of the dying.
+    Is this the grey rack o'er the sun's face a-flying?
+  Or is it your faces his brightness that darken?
+    Comes a wind from the sea, or is it your sighing?
+      --Pass by me and hearken, and pity me not!
+
+  Ye know not how void is your hope and your living:
+    Depart with your helping lest yet ye undo me!
+    Ye know not that at nightfall she draweth near to me,
+  There is soft speech between us and words of forgiving
+    Till in dead of the midnight her kisses thrill through me.
+      --Pass by me and hearken, and waken me not!
+
+  Wherewith will ye buy it, ye rich who behold me?
+    Draw out from your coffers your rest and your laughter,
+    And the fair gilded hope of the dawn coming after!
+  Nay this I sell not,--though ye bought me and sold me,--
+    For your house stored with such things from threshold to rafter.
+      --Pass by me, I hearken, and think of you not!
+
+
+  4.
+
+  Love is enough: ho ye who seek saving,
+    Go no further; come hither; there have been who have found it,
+  And these know the House of Fulfilment of Craving;
+    These know the Cup with the roses around it;
+    These know the World's Wound and the balm that hath bound it:
+  Cry out, the World heedeth not, "Love, lead us home!"
+
+  He leadeth, He hearkeneth, He cometh to you-ward;
+    Set your faces as steel to the fears that assemble
+  Round his goad for the faint, and his scourge for the froward:
+    Lo! his lips, how with tales of last kisses they tremble!
+    Lo! his eyes of all sorrow that may not dissemble!
+  Cry out, for he heedeth, "O Love, lead us home!"
+
+  O hearken the words of his voice of compassion:
+    "Come cling round about me, ye faithful who sicken
+  Of the weary unrest and the world's passing fashion!
+    As the rain in mid-morning your troubles shall thicken,
+    But surely within you some Godhead doth quicken,
+  As ye cry to me heeding, and leading you home.
+
+  "Come--pain ye shall have, and be blind to the ending!
+    Come--fear ye shall have, mid the sky's overcasting!
+  Come--change ye shall have, for far are ye wending!
+    Come--no crown ye shall have for your thirst and your fasting,
+    But the kissed lips of Love and fair life everlasting!
+  Cry out, for one heedeth, who leadeth you home!"
+
+  Is he gone? was he with us?--ho ye who seek saving,
+    Go no further; come hither; for have we not found it?
+  Here is the House of Fulfilment of Craving;
+    Here is the Cup with the roses around it;
+    The World's Wound well healed, and the balm that hath bound it:
+  Cry out! for he heedeth, fair Love that led home.
+
+
+
+
+  FROM
+
+  "THE STORY OF SIGURD THE VOLSUNG."
+
+  BOOK II.
+
+  R E G I N.
+
+
+Now this is the first book of the life and death of Sigurd the Volsung,
+and therein is told of the birth of him, and of his dealings with Regin
+the master of masters, and of his deeds in the waste places of the
+earth.
+
+  _Of the birth of Sigurd the son of Sigmund._
+
+  Peace lay on the land of the Helper and the house of Elf his son;
+  There merry men went bedward when their tide of toil was done,
+  And glad was the dawn's awakening, and the noontide fair and glad:
+  There no great store had the franklin, and enough the hireling had;
+  And a child might go unguarded the length and breadth of the land
+  With a purse of gold at his girdle and gold rings on his hand.
+  'Twas a country of cunning craftsmen, and many a thing they wrought,
+  That the lands of storm desired, and the homes of warfare sought.
+  But men deemed it o'er-well warded by more than its stems of fight,
+  And told how its earth-born watchers yet lived of plenteous might.
+  So hidden was that country, and few men sailed its sea,
+  And none came o'er its mountains of men-folk's company.
+  But fair-fruited, many-peopled, it lies a goodly strip,
+  'Twixt the mountains cloudy-headed and the sea-flood's surging lip,
+  And a perilous flood is its ocean, and its mountains, who shall tell
+  What things in their dales deserted and their wind-swept heaths may dwell.
+  Now a man of the Kings, called Gripir, in this land of peace abode:
+  The son of the Helper's father, though never lay his load
+  In the womb of the mother of Kings that the Helper's brethren bore;
+  But of Giant kin was his mother, of the folk that are seen no more;
+  Though whiles as ye ride some fell-road across the heath there comes
+  The voice of their lone lamenting o'er their changed and conquered homes.
+  A long way off from the sea-strand and beneath the mountains' feet
+  Is the high-built hall of Gripir, where the waste and the tillage meet;
+  A noble and plentiful house, that a little men-folk fear,
+  But beloved of the crag-dwelling eagles and the kin of the woodland deer.
+  A man of few words was Gripir, but he knew of all deeds that had been,
+  And times there came upon him, when the deeds to be were seen:
+  No sword had he held in his hand since his father fell to field,
+  And against the life of the slayer he bore undinted shield:
+  Yet no fear in his heart abided, nor desired he aught at all,
+  But he noted the deeds that had been, and looked for what should befall.
+
+  Again, in the house of the Helper there dwelt a certain man
+  Beardless and low of stature, of visage pinched and wan:
+  So exceeding old was Regin, that no son of man could tell
+  In what year of the days passed over he came to that land to dwell;
+  But the youth of King Elf had he fostered, and the Helper's youth thereto,
+  Yes and his father's father's: the lore of all men he knew,
+  And was deft in every cunning, save the dealings of the sword:
+  So sweet was his tongue-speech fashioned, that men trowed his every word;
+  His hand with the harp-strings blended was the mingler of delight
+  With the latter days of sorrow; all tales he told aright;
+  The Master of the Masters in the smithying craft was he;
+  And he dealt with the wind and the weather and the stilling of the sea;
+  Nor might any learn him leech-craft, for before that race was made,
+  And that man-folk's generation, all their life-days had he weighed.
+
+  In this land abideth Hiordis amid all people's praise
+  Till cometh the time appointed: in the fulness of the days
+  Through the dark and the dusk she travailed, till at last in the dawning
+    hour
+  Have the deeds of the Volsungs blossomed, and born their latest flower;
+  In the bed there lieth a man child, and his eyes look straight on the sun,
+  And lo, the hope of the people, and the days of a king are begun.
+
+  Men say of the serving-women, when they cried on the joy of the morn,
+  When they handled the linen raiment, and washed the king new-born,
+  When they bore him back unto Hiordis, and the weary and happy breast,
+  And bade her be glad to behold it, how the best was sprung from the best,
+  Yet they shrank in their rejoicing before the eyes of the child,
+  So bright and dreadful were they; yea though the spring morn smiled,
+  And a thousand birds were singing round the fair familiar home,
+  And still as on other mornings they saw folk go and come,
+  Yet the hour seemed awful to them, and the hearts within them burned
+  As though of fateful matters their souls were newly learned.
+
+  But Hiordis looked on the Volsung, on her grief and her fond desire,
+  And the hope of her heart was quickened, and her joy was a living fire;
+  And she said: "Now one of the earthly on the eyes of my child hath gazed
+  Nor shrunk before their glory, nor stayed her love amazed:
+  I behold thee as Sigmund beholdeth,--and I was the home of thine heart--
+  Woe's me for the day when thou wert not, and the hour when we shall part!"
+
+  Then she held him a little season on her weary and happy breast
+  And she told him of Sigmund and Volsung and the best sprung forth from
+    the best:
+  She spake to the new-born baby as one who might understand,
+  And told him of Sigmund's battle, and the dead by the sea-flood's strand,
+  And of all the wars passed over, and the light with darkness blent.
+
+  So she spake, and the sun rose higher, and her speech at last was spent,
+  And she gave him back to the women to bear forth to the people's kings,
+  That they too may rejoice in her glory and her day of happy things.
+
+  But there sat the Helper of Men with King Elf and Earls in the hall,
+  And they spake of the deeds that had been, and told of the times to
+    befall,
+  And they hearkened and heard sweet voices and the sound of harps draw
+    nigh,
+  Till their hearts were exceeding merry and they knew not wherefore or
+    why:
+  Then, lo, in the hall white raiment, as thither the damsels came,
+  And amid the hands of the foremost was the woven gold aflame.
+
+  "O daughters of earls," said the Helper, "what tidings then do ye bear?
+  Is it grief in the merry morning, or joy or wonder or fear?"
+
+  Quoth the first: "It is grief for the foemen that the Masters of God-home
+    would grieve."
+
+  Said the next: "'Tis a wonder of wonders, that the hearkening world shall
+    believe."
+
+  "A fear of all fears," said the third, "for the sword is uplifted on men."
+
+  "A joy of all joys," said the fourth, "once come, it comes not again!"
+
+  "Lo, son," said the ancient Helper, "glad sit the earls and the lords!
+  Lookst thou not for a token of tidings to follow such-like words?"
+
+  Saith King Elf: "Great words of women! or great hath our dwelling become."
+
+  Said the women: "Words shall be greater, when all folk shall praise our
+    home."
+
+  "What then hath betid," said King Elf, "do the high Gods stand in our
+    gate?"
+
+  "Nay," said they, "else were we silent, and they should be telling of
+    fate."
+
+  "Is the bidding come," said the Helper, "that we wend the Gods to see?"
+
+  "Many summers and winters," they said, "ye shall live on the earth, it
+    may be."
+
+  Said a young man: "Will ye be telling that all we shall die no more?"
+
+  "Nay," they answered, "nay, who knoweth but the change may be hard at
+    the door?"
+
+  "Come ships from the sea," said an elder, "with all gifts of the
+    Eastland gold?"
+
+  "Was there less than enough," said the women, "when last our treasure
+    was told?"
+
+  "Speak then," said the ancient Helper, "let the worst and the best be
+    said."
+
+  Quoth they: "'Tis the Queen of the Isle-folk, she is weary-sick on her
+    bed."
+
+  Said King Elf: "Yet ye come rejoicing; what more lieth under the tongue?"
+
+  They said: "The earth is weary; but the tender blade hath sprung,
+  That shall wax till beneath its branches fair bloom the meadows green;
+  For the Gods and they that were mighty were glad erewhile with the Queen."
+
+  Said King Elf: "How say ye, women? Of a King new-born do ye tell
+  By a God of the Heavens begotten in our fathers' house to dwell?"
+
+  "By a God of the Earth," they answered; "but greater yet is the son,
+  Though long were the days of Sigmund, and great are the deeds he hath
+    done."
+
+  Then she with the golden burden to the kingly high-seat stepped
+  And away from the new-born baby the purple cloths she swept,
+  And cried: "O King of the people, long mayst thou live in bliss,
+  As our hearts to-day are happy! Queen Hiordis sends thee this,
+  And she saith that the world shall call it by the name that thou shalt
+    name;
+  Now the gift to thee is given, and to thee is brought the fame."
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+  Then e'en as a man astonied King Elf the Volsung took,
+  While his feast-hall's ancient timbers with the cry of the earl-folk
+    shook;
+  For the eyes of the child gleamed on him till he was as one who sees
+  The very Gods arising mid their carven images:
+  To his ears there came a murmur of far seas beneath the wind
+  And the tramp of fierce-eyed warriors through the outland forest blind;
+  The sound of hosts of battle, cries round the hoisted shield,
+  Low talk of the gathered wise-ones in the Goth-folk's holy field:
+  So the thought in a little moment through King Elf the Mighty ran
+  Of the years and their building and burden, and toil of the sons of man,
+  The joy of folk and their sorrow, and the hope of deeds to do:
+  With the love of many peoples was the wise king smitten through,
+  As he hung o'er the new-born Volsung: but at last he raised his head,
+  And looked forth kind o'er his people, and spake aloud and said:
+
+  "O Sigmund King of Battle; O man of many days,
+  Whom I saw mid the shields of the fallen and the dead men's silent praise,
+  Lo, how hath the dark tide perished and the dawn of day begun!
+  And now, O mighty Sigmund, wherewith shall we name thy son?"
+
+  But there rose up a man most ancient, and he cried: "Hail Dawn of the Day!
+  How many things shalt thou quicken, how many shalt thou slay!
+  How many things shalt thou waken, how many lull to sleep!
+  How many things shalt thou scatter, how many gather and keep!
+  O me, how thy love shall cherish, how thine hate shall wither and burn!
+  How the hope shall be sped from thy right hand, nor the fear to thy left
+    return!
+  O thy deeds that men shall sing of! O thy deeds that the Gods shall see!
+  O SIGURD, Son of the Volsungs, O Victory yet to be!"
+
+  Men heard the name and they knew it, and they caught it up in the air,
+  And it went abroad by the windows and the doors of the feast-hall fair,
+  It went through street and market; o'er meadow and acre it went,
+  And over the wind-stirred forest and the dearth of the sea-beat bent,
+  And over the sea-flood's welter, till the folk of the fishers heard,
+  And the hearts of the isle-abiders on the sun-scorched rocks were stirred.
+
+  But the Queen in her golden chamber, the name she hearkened and knew;
+  And she heard the flock of the women, as back to the chamber they drew,
+  And the name of Sigurd entered, and the body of Sigurd was come,
+  And it was as if Sigmund were living and she still in her lovely home;
+  Of all folk of the world was she well, and a soul fulfilled of rest
+  As alone in the chamber she wakened and Sigurd cherished her breast.
+
+  But men feast in the merry noontide, and glad is the April green
+  That a Volsung looks on the sunlight and the night and the darkness have
+    been.
+  Earls think of marvellous stories, and along the golden strings
+  Flit words of banded brethren and names of war-fain Kings:
+  All the days of the deeds of Sigmund who was born so long ago;
+  All deeds of the glorious Signy, and her tarrying-tide of woe;
+  Men tell of the years of Volsung, and how long agone it was
+  That he changed his life in battle, and brought the tale to pass:
+  Then goeth the word of the Giants, and the world seems waxen old
+  For the dimness of King Rerir and the tale of his warfare told:
+  Yet unhushed are the singers' voices, nor yet the harp-strings cease
+  While yet is left a rumour of the mirk-wood's broken peace,
+  And of Sigi the very ancient, and the unnamed Sons of God,
+  Of the days when the Lords of Heaven full oft the world-ways trod.
+
+  So stilleth the wind in the even and the sun sinks down in the sea,
+  And men abide the morrow and the Victory yet to be.
+
+
+    _Sigurd getteth to him the horse that is called Greyfell._
+
+  Now waxeth the son of Sigmund in might and goodliness,
+  And soft the days win over, and all men his beauty bless.
+  But amidst the summer season was the Isle-queen Hiordis wed
+  To King Elf the son of the Helper, and fair their life-days sped.
+  Peace lay on the land for ever, and the fields gave good increase,
+  And there was Sigurd waxing mid the plenty and the peace.
+
+  Now hath the child grown greater, and is keen and eager of wit
+  And full of understanding, and oft hath the joy to sit
+  Amid talk of weighty matters when the wise men meet for speech;
+  And joyous he is moreover and blithe and kind with each.
+  But Regin the wise craftsmaster heedeth the youngling well,
+  And before the Kings he cometh, and saith such words to tell.
+
+  "I have fostered thy youth, King Elf, and thine O Helper of men,
+  And ye wot that such a master no king shall see again;
+  And now would I foster Sigurd; for, though he be none of thy blood,
+  Mine heart of his days that shall be speaketh abundant good."
+
+  Then spake the Helper of men-folk: "Yea, do herein thy will:
+  For thou art the Master of Masters, and hast learned me all my skill:
+  But think how bright is this youngling, and thy guile from him withhold;
+  For this craft of thine hath shown me that thy heart is grim and cold,
+  Though three men's lives thrice over thy wisdom might not learn;
+  And I love this son of Sigmund, and mine heart to him doth yearn."
+
+  Then Regin laughed, and answered: "I doled out cunning to thee;
+  But nought with him will I measure: yet no cold-heart shall he be,
+  Nor grim, nor evil-natured: for whate'er my will might frame,
+  Gone forth is the word of the Norns, that abideth ever the same.
+  And now, despite my cunning, how deem ye I shall die?"
+
+  And they said he would live as he listed, and at last in peace should lie
+  When he listed to live no longer; so mighty and wise he was.
+  But again he laughed and answered: "One day it shall come to pass,
+  That a beardless youth shall slay me: I know the fateful doom;
+  But nought may I withstand it, as it heaves up dim through the gloom."
+
+  So is Sigurd now with Regin, and he learns him many things;
+  Yea, all save the craft of battle, that men learned the sons of kings:
+  The smithying sword and war-coat; the carving runes aright;
+  The tongues of many countries, and soft speech for men's delight;
+  The dealing with the harp-strings, and the winding ways of song.
+  So wise of heart waxed Sigurd, and of body wondrous strong:
+  And he chased the deer of the forest, and many a wood-wolf slew,
+  And many a bull of the mountains: and the desert dales he knew,
+  And the heaths that the wind sweeps over; and seaward would he fare,
+  Far out from the outer skerries, and alone the sea-wights dare.
+
+  On a day he sat with Regin amidst the unfashioned gold,
+  And the silver grey from the furnace; and Regin spake and told
+  Sweet tales of the days that have been, and the Kings of the bold and
+    wise;
+  Till the lad's heart swelled with longing and lit his sunbright eyes.
+
+  Then Regin looked upon him: "Thou too shalt one day ride
+  As the Volsung Kings went faring through the noble world and wide.
+  For this land is nought and narrow, and Kings of the carles are these,
+  And their earls are acre-biders, and their hearts are dull with peace."
+
+  But Sigurd knit his brows, and in wrathful wise he said:
+  "Ill words of those thou speakest that my youth have cherished,
+  And the friends that have made me merry, and the land that is fair and
+    good."
+
+  Then Regin laughed and answered: "Nay, well I see by thy mood
+  That wide wilt thou ride in the world like thy kin of the earlier days:
+  And wilt thou be wroth with thy master that he longs for thy winning the
+    praise?
+  And now if the sooth thou sayest, that these King-folk cherish thee well,
+  Then let them give thee a gift whereof the world shall tell:
+  Yea hearken to this my counsel, and crave for a battle-steed."
+
+  Yet wroth was the lad and answered: "I have many a horse to my need,
+  And all that the heart desireth, and what wouldst thou wish me more?"
+
+  Then Regin answered and said: "Thy kin of the Kings of yore
+  Were the noblest men of men-folk; and their hearts would never rest
+  Whatso of good they had gotten, if their hands held not the best.
+  Now do thou after my counsel, and crave of thy fosterers here
+  That thou choose of the horses of Gripir whichso thine heart holds dear."
+
+  He spake and his harp was with him, and he smote the strings full sweet,
+  And sang of the host of the Valkyrs, how they ride the battle to meet,
+  And the dew from the dear manes drippeth as they ride in the first of
+    the sun,
+  And the tree-boughs open to meet it when the wind of the dawning is done:
+  And the deep dales drink its sweetness and spring into blossoming grass,
+  And the earth groweth fruitful of men, and bringeth their glory to pass.
+
+  Then the wrath ran off from Sigurd, and he left the smithying stead
+  While the song yet rang in the doorway: and that eve to the Kings he said:
+  "Will ye do so much for mine asking as to give me a horse to my will?
+  For belike the days shall come, that shall all my heart fulfill,
+  And teach me the deeds of a king."
+                    Then answered King Elf and spake:
+  "The stalls of the Kings are before thee to set aside or to take,
+  And nought we begrudge thee the best."
+                           Yet answered Sigurd again;
+  For his heart of the mountains aloft and the windy drift was fain:
+  "Fair seats for the knees of Kings! but now do I ask for a gift
+  Such as all the world shall be praising, the best of the strong and
+    the swift.
+  Ye shall give me a token for Gripir, and bid him to let me choose
+  From out of the noble stud-beasts that run in his meadow loose.
+  But if overmuch I have asked you, forget this prayer of mine,
+  And deem the word unspoken, and get ye to the wine."
+
+  Then smiled King Elf, and answered: "A long way wilt thou ride,
+  To where unpeace and troubles and the griefs of the soul abide,
+  Yea unto the death at the last: yet surely shalt thou win
+  The praise of many a people: so have thy way herein.
+  Forsooth no more may we hold thee than the hazel copse may hold
+  The sun of the early dawning, that turneth it all unto gold."
+
+  Then sweetly Sigurd thanked them; and through the night he lay
+  Mid dreams of many a matter till the dawn was on the way;
+  Then he shook the sleep from off him, and that dwelling of Kings he left
+  And wended his ways unto Gripir. On a crag from the mountain reft
+  Was the house of the old King builded; and a mighty house it was,
+  Though few were the sons of men that over its threshold would pass:
+  But the wild ernes cried about it, and the vultures toward it flew,
+  And the winds from the heart of the mountains searched every chamber
+    through,
+  And about were meads wide-spreading; and many a beast thereon,
+  Yea some that are men-folk's terror, their sport and pasture won.
+  So into the hall went Sigurd; and amidst was Gripir set
+  In a chair of the sea-beast's tooth; and his sweeping beard nigh met
+  The floor that was green as the ocean, and his gown was of mountain-gold
+  And the kingly staff in his hand was knobbed with the crystal cold.
+
+  Now the first of the twain spake Gripir: "Hail King with the eyen bright!
+  Nought needest thou show the token, for I know of thy life and thy light.
+  And no need to tell of thy message; it was wafted here on the wind,
+  That thou wouldst be coming to-day a horse in my meadow to find:
+  And strong must he be for the bearing of those deeds of thine that shall
+    be.
+  Now choose thou of all the way-wearers that are running loose in my lea,
+  And be glad as thine heart will have thee and the fate that leadeth thee
+    on,
+  And I bid thee again come hither when the sword of worth is won,
+  And thy loins are girt for thy going on the road that before thee lies;
+  For a glimmering over its darkness is come before mine eyes."
+
+  Then again gat Sigurd outward, and adown the steep he ran
+  And unto the horse-fed meadow: but lo, a grey-clad man,
+  One-eyed and seeming-ancient, there met him by the way:
+  And he spake: "Thou hastest, Sigurd; yet tarry till I say
+  A word that shall well bestead thee: for I know of these mountains well
+  And all the lea of Gripir, and the beasts that thereon dwell."
+
+  "Wouldst thou have red gold for thy tidings? art thou Gripir's horse-herd
+    then?
+  Nay sure, for thy face is shining like battle-eager men
+  My master Regin tells of: and I love thy cloud-grey gown
+  And thy visage gleams above it like a thing my dreams have known."
+
+  "Nay whiles have I heeded the horse-kind," then spake that elder of days,
+  "And sooth do the sages say, when the beasts of my breeding they praise.
+  There is one thereof in the meadow, and, wouldst thou cull him out,
+  Thou shalt follow an elder's counsel, who hath brought strange things
+    about,
+  Who hath known thy father aforetime, and other kings of thy kin."
+
+  So Sigurd said, "I am ready; and what is the deed to win?"
+
+  He said: "We shall drive the horses adown to the water-side,
+  That cometh forth from the mountains, and note what next shall betide."
+
+  Then the twain sped on together, and they drave the horses on
+  Till they came to a rushing river a water wide and wan;
+  And the white mews hovered o'er it; but none might hear their cry
+  For the rush and the rattle of waters, as the downlong flood swept by.
+  So the whole herd took the river and strove the stream to stem,
+  And many a brave steed was there; but the flood o'ermastered them:
+  And some, it swept them down-ward, and some won back to bank,
+  Some, caught by the net of the eddies, in the swirling hubbub sank;
+  But one of all swam over, and they saw his mane of grey
+  Toss over the flowery meadows, a bright thing far away:
+  Wide then he wheeled about them, then took the stream again
+  And with the waves' white horses mingled his cloudy mane.
+
+  Then spake the elder of days: "Hearken now, Sigurd, and hear;
+  Time was when I gave thy father a gift thou shalt yet deem dear,
+  And this horse is a gift of my giving:--heed nought where thou mayst ride:
+  For I have seen thy fathers in a shining house abide,
+  And on earth they thought of its threshold, and the gifts I had to give;
+  Nor prayed for a little longer, and a little longer to live."
+
+  Then forth he strode to the mountains, and fain was Sigurd now
+  To ask him many a matter: but dim did his bright shape grow,
+  As a man from the litten doorway fades into the dusk of night;
+  And the sun in the high-noon shone, and the world was exceeding bright.
+
+  So Sigurd turned to the river and stood by the wave-wet strand,
+  And the grey horse swims to his feet and lightly leaps aland,
+  And the youngling looks upon him, and deems none beside him good.
+  And indeed, as tells the story, he was come of Sleipnir's blood,
+  The tireless horse of Odin: cloud-grey he was of hue,
+  And it seemed as Sigurd backed him that Sigmund's son he knew,
+  So glad he went beneath him. Then the youngling's song arose
+  As he brushed through the noon-tide blossoms of Gripir's mighty close,
+  Then he singeth the song of Greyfell, the horse that Odin gave,
+  Who swam through the sweeping river, and back through the toppling wave.
+
+
+    _Regin telleth Sigurd of his kindred, and of the Gold that was
+      accursed from ancient days._
+
+  Now yet the days pass over, and more than words may tell
+  Grows Sigurd strong and lovely, and all children love him well.
+  But oft he looks on the mountains and many a time is fain
+  To know of what lies beyond them, and learn of the wide world's gain.
+  And he saith: "I dwell in a land that is ruled by none of my blood;
+  And my mother's sons are waxing, and fair kings shall they be and good;
+  And their servant or their betrayer--not one of these will I be.
+  Yet needs must I wait for a little till Odin calls for me."
+
+  Now again it happed on a day that he sat in Regin's hall
+  And hearkened many tidings of what had chanced to fall,
+  And of kings that sought their kingdoms o'er many a waste and wild,
+  And at last saith the crafty master:
+                         "Thou art King Sigmund's child:
+  Wilt thou wait till these kings of the carles shall die in a little land,
+  Or wilt thou serve their sons and carry the cup to their hand;
+  Or abide in vain for the day that never shall come about,
+  When their banners shall dance in the wind and shake to the war-gods'
+    shout?"
+
+  Then Sigurd answered and said: "Nought such do I look to be.
+  But thou, a deedless man, too much thou eggest me:
+  And these folk are good and trusty, and the land is lovely and sweet,
+  And in rest and in peace it lieth as the floor of Odin's feet:
+  Yet I know that the world is wide, and filled with deeds unwrought;
+  And for e'en such work was I fashioned, lest the song-craft come to
+    nought,
+  When the harps of God-home tinkle, and the Gods are at stretch to
+    hearken;
+  Lest the hosts of the Gods be scanty when their day hath begun to darken,
+  When the bonds of the Wolf wax thin, and Loki fretteth his chain.
+  And sure for the house of my fathers full oft my heart is fain,
+  And meseemeth I hear them talking of the day when I shall come,
+  And of all the burden of deeds, that my hand shall bear them home.
+  And so when the deed is ready, nowise the man shall lack:
+  But the wary foot is the surest, and the hasty oft turns back."
+
+  Then answered Regin the guileful: "The deed is ready to hand,
+  Yet holding my peace is the best, for well thou lovest the land;
+  And thou lovest thy life moreover, and the peace of thy youthful days,
+  And why should the full-fed feaster his hand to the rye-bread raise?
+  Yet they say that Sigmund begat thee and he looked to fashion a man.
+  Fear nought; he lieth quiet in his mound by the sea-waves wan."
+
+  So shone the eyes of Sigurd, that the shield against him hung
+  Cast back their light as the sunbeams; but his voice to the roof-tree
+    rung:
+  "Tell me, thou Master of Masters, what deed is the deed I shall do?
+  Nor mock thou the son of Sigmund lest the day of his birth thou rue."
+
+  Then answered the Master of Sleight: "The deed is the righting of wrong,
+  And the quelling a bale and a sorrow that the world hath endured o'erlong,
+  And the winning a treasure untold, that shall make thee more than the
+    kings;
+  Thereof is the Helm of Aweing, the wonder of earthly things,
+  And thereof is its very fellow, the War-coat all of gold,
+  That has not its like in the heavens, nor has earth of its fellow told."
+
+  Then answered Sigurd the Volsung: "How long hereof hast thou known?
+  And what unto thee is this treasure, that thou seemest to give as thine
+    own?"
+
+  "Alas!" quoth the smithying master, "it is mine, yet none of mine
+  Since my heart herein avails not, and my hand is frail and fine--
+  It is long since I first came hither to seek a man for my need;
+  For I saw by a glimmering light that hence would spring the deed,
+  And many a deed of the world: but the generations passed,
+  And the first of the days was as near to the end that I sought as the
+    last;
+  Till I looked on thine eyes in the cradle: and now I deem through thee,
+  That the end of my days of waiting, and the end of my woes shall be."
+
+  Then Sigurd awhile was silent; but at last he answered and said:
+  "Thou shalt have thy will and the treasure, and shalt take the curse on
+    thine head
+  If a curse the gold enwrappeth: but the deed will I surely do,
+  For to-day the dreams of my childhood have bloomed in my heart anew:
+  And I long to look on the world and the glory of the earth
+  And to deal in the dealings of men, and garner the harvest of worth.
+  But tell me, thou Master of Masters, where lieth this measureless wealth;
+  Is it guarded by swords of the earl-folk, or kept by cunning and stealth?
+  Is it over the main sea's darkness, or beyond the mountain wall?
+  Or e'en in these peaceful acres anigh to the hands of all?"
+
+  Then Regin answered sweetly: "Hereof must a tale be told:
+  Bide sitting, thou son of Sigmund, on the heap of unwrought gold,
+  And hearken of wondrous matters, and of things unheard, unsaid,
+  And deeds of my beholding ere the first of Kings was made.
+
+  "And first ye shall know of a sooth, that I never was born of the race
+  Which the masters of God-home have made to cover the fair earth's face;
+  But I come of the Dwarfs departed; and fair was the earth whileome
+  Ere the short-lived thralls of the Gods amidst its dales were come:--
+  And how were we worse than the Gods, though maybe we lived not as long?
+  Yet no weight of memory maimed us; nor aught we knew of wrong.
+  What felt our souls of shaming, what knew our hearts of love?
+  We did and undid at pleasure, and repented nought thereof.
+  --Yea we were exceeding mighty--bear with me yet, my son;
+  For whiles can I scarcely think it that our days are wholly done.
+  And trust not thy life in my hands in the day when most I seem
+  Like the Dwarfs that are long departed, and most of my kindred I dream.
+
+  "So as we dwelt came tidings that the Gods amongst us were,
+  And the people come from Asgard: then rose up hope and fear,
+  And strange shapes of things went flitting betwixt the night and the eve,
+  And our sons waxed wild and wrathful, and our daughters learned to grieve.
+  Then we fell to the working of metal, and the deeps of the earth would
+    know,
+  And we dealt with venom and leechcraft, and we fashioned spear and bow,
+  And we set the ribs to the oak-keel, and looked on the landless sea;
+  And the world began to be such-like as the Gods would have it to be.
+  In the womb of the woeful Earth had they quickened the grief and the gold.
+
+  "It was Reidmar the Ancient begat me; and now was he waxen old,
+  And a covetous man and a king; and he bade, and I built him a hall,
+  And a golden glorious house; and thereto his sons did he call,
+  And he bade them be evil and wise, that his will through them might be
+    wrought.
+  Then he gave unto Fafnir my brother the soul that feareth nought,
+  And the brow of the hardened iron, and the hand that may never fail,
+  And the greedy heart of a king, and the ear that hears no wail.
+
+  "But next unto Otter my brother he gave the snare and the net
+  And the longing to wend through the wild-wood, and wade the highways wet:
+  And the foot that never resteth, while aught be left alive
+  That hath cunning to match man's cunning or might with his might to
+    strive.
+
+  "And to me, the least and the youngest, what gift for the slaying of ease?
+  Save the grief that remembers the past, and the fear that the future sees;
+  And the hammer and fashioning-iron, and the living coal of fire;
+  And the craft that createth a semblance, and fails of the heart's desire;
+  And the toil that each dawning quickens and the task that is never done,
+  And the heart that longeth ever, nor will look to the deed that is won.
+
+  "Thus gave my father the gifts that might never be taken again;
+  Far worse were we now than the Gods, and but little better than men.
+  But yet of our ancient might one thing had we left us still:
+  We had craft to change our semblance, and could shift us at our will
+  Into bodies of the beast-kind, or fowl, or fishes cold;
+  For belike no fixed semblance we had in the days of old,
+  Till the Gods were waxen busy, and all things their form must take
+  That knew of good and evil, and longed to gather and make.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+  "So dwelt we, brethren and father; and Fafnir my brother fared
+  As the scourge and compeller of all things, and left no wrong undared;
+  But for me, I toiled and I toiled; and fair grew my father's house;
+  But writhen and foul were the hands that had made it glorious;
+  And the love of women left me, and the fame of sword and shield:
+  And the sun and the winds of heaven, and the fowl and the grass of the
+    field
+  Were grown as the tools of my smithy; and all the world I knew,
+  And the glories that lie beyond it, and whitherward all things drew;
+  And myself a little fragment amidst it all I saw,
+  Grim, cold-heart, and unmighty as the tempest-driven straw.
+  --Let be.--For Otter my brother saw seldom field or fold,
+  And he oftenest used that custom, whereof e'en now I told,
+  And would shift his shape with the wood-beasts and the things of land
+    and sea;
+  And he knew what joy their hearts had, and what they longed to be,
+  And their dim-eyed understanding, and his wood-craft waxed so great,
+  That he seemed the king of the creatures and their very mortal fate.
+
+  "Now as the years won over three folk of the heavenly halls
+  Grew aweary of sleepless sloth, and the day that nought befalls;
+  And they fain would look on the earth, and their latest handiwork,
+  And turn the fine gold over, lest a flaw therein should lurk.
+  And the three were the heart-wise Odin, the Father of the Slain,
+  And Loki, the World's Begrudger, who maketh all labour vain,
+  And Haenir, the Utter-Blameless, who wrought the hope of man,
+  And his heart and inmost yearnings, when first the work began;--
+  --The God that was aforetime, and hereafter yet shall be
+  When the new light yet undreamed of shall shine o'er earth and sea.
+
+  "Thus about the world they wended and deemed it fair and good,
+  And they loved their life-days dearly: so came they to the wood,
+  And the lea without a shepherd and the dwellings of the deer,
+  And unto a mighty water that ran from a fathomless mere.
+  Now that flood my brother Otter had haunted many a day
+  For its plenteous fruit of fishes; and there on the bank he lay
+  As the Gods came wandering thither; and he slept, and in his dreams
+  He saw the downlong river, and its fishy-peopled streams,
+  And the swift smooth heads of its forces, and its swirling wells and deep,
+  Where hang the poised fishes, and their watch in the rock-halls keep.
+  And so, as he thought of it all, and its deeds and its wanderings,
+  Whereby it ran to the sea down the road of scaly things,
+  His body was changed with his thought, as yet was the wont of our kind,
+  And he grew but an Otter indeed; and his eyes were sleeping and blind
+  The while he devoured the prey, a golden red-flecked trout.
+  Then passed by Odin and Haenir, nor cumbered their souls with doubt;
+  But Loki lingered a little, and guile in his heart arose,
+  And he saw through the shape of the Otter, and beheld a chief of his foes,
+  A king of the free and the careless: so he called up his baleful might,
+  And gathered his godhead together, and tore a shard outright
+  From the rock-wall of the river, and across its green wells cast;
+  And roaring over the waters that bolt of evil passed,
+  And smote my brother Otter that his heart's life fled away,
+  And bore his man's shape with it, and beast-like there he lay,
+  Stark dead on the sun-lit blossoms: but the Evil God rejoiced,
+  And because of the sound of his singing the wild grew many-voiced.
+
+  "Then the three Gods waded the river, and no word Haenir spake,
+  For his thoughts were set on God-home, and the day that is ever awake.
+  But Odin laughed in his wrath, and murmured: 'Ah, how long,
+  Till the iron shall ring on the anvil for the shackles of thy wrong!'
+
+  "Then Loki takes up the quarry, and is e'en as a man again;
+  And the three wend on through the wild-wood till they come to a grassy
+    plain
+  Beneath the untrodden mountains; and lo! a noble house,
+  And a hall with great craft fashioned, and made full glorious;
+  But night on the earth was falling; so scantly might they see
+  The wealth of its smooth-wrought stonework and its world of imagery:
+  Then Loki bade turn thither since day was at an end,
+  And into that noble dwelling the lords of God-home wend;
+  And the porch was fair and mighty, and so smooth-wrought was its gold,
+  That the mirrored stars of heaven therein might ye behold:
+  But the hall, what words shall tell it, how fair it rose aloft,
+  And the marvels of its windows, and its golden hangings soft,
+  And the forest of its pillars! and each like the wave's heart shone
+  And the mirrored boughs of the garden were dancing fair thereon.
+  --Long years agone was it builded, and where are its wonders now?
+
+  "Now the men of God-home marvelled, and gazed through the golden glow,
+  And a man like a covetous king amidst of the hall they saw;
+  And his chair was the tooth of the whale, wrought smooth with never a
+    flaw;
+  And his gown was the sea-born purple, and he bore a crown on his head,
+  But never a sword was before him: kind-seeming words he said,
+  And bade rest to the weary feet that had worn the wild so long.
+  So they sat, and were men by seeming; and there rose up music and song,
+  And they ate and drank and were merry: but amidst the glee of the cup
+  They felt themselves tangled and caught, as when the net cometh up
+  Before the folk of the 'firth, and the main sea lieth far off;
+  And the laughter of lips they hearkened, and that hall-abider's scoff,
+  As his face and his mocking eyes anigh to their faces drew,
+  And their godhead was caught in the net, and no shift of creation they
+    knew
+  To escape from their man-like bodies; so great that day was the Earth.
+
+  "Then spake the hall-abider: 'Where then is thy guileful mirth,
+  And thy hall-glee gone, O Loki? Come, Haenir, fashion now
+  My heart for love and for hope, that the fear in my body may grow,
+  That I may grieve and be sorry, that the ruth may arise in me,
+  As thou dealtst with the first of men-folk, when a master-smith thou
+    wouldst be.
+  And thou, Allfather Odin, hast thou come on a bastard brood?
+  Or hadst thou belike a brother, thy twin for evil and good,
+  That waked amidst thy slumber, and slumbered midst thy work?
+  Nay, Wise-one, art thou silent as a child amidst the mirk?
+  Ah, I know ye are called the Gods, and are mighty men at home,
+  But now with a guilt on your heads to no feeble folk are ye come,
+  To a folk that need you nothing: time was when we knew you not:
+  Yet e'en then fresh was the winter, and the summer sun was hot,
+  And the wood-meats stayed our hunger, and the water quenched our thirst,
+  Ere the good and the evil wedded and begat the best and the worst.
+  And how if to-day I undo it, that work of your fashioning,
+  If the web of the world run backward, and the high heavens lack a King?
+  --Woe's me! for your ancient mastery shall help you at your need:
+  If ye fill up the gulf of my longing and my empty heart of greed,
+  And slake the flame ye have quickened, then may ye go your ways
+  And get ye back to your kingship and the driving on of the days
+  To the day of the gathered war-hosts, and the tide of your Fateful Gloom.
+  Now nought may ye gainsay it that my mouth must speak the doom,
+  For ye wot well I am Reidmar, and that there ye lie red-hand
+  From the slaughtering of my offspring, and the spoiling of my land;
+  For his death of my wold hath bereft me and every highway wet.
+  --Nay, Loki, naught avails it, well-fashioned is the net.
+  Come forth, my son, my war-god, and show the Gods their work,
+  And thou who mightst learn e'en Loki, if need were to lie or lurk!'
+
+  "And there was I, I Regin, the smithier of the snare,
+  And high up Fafnir towered with the brow that knew no fear,
+  With the wrathful and pitiless heart that was born of my father's will,
+  And the greed that the Gods had fashioned the fate of the earth to
+    fulfill.
+
+  "Then spake the Father of Men: 'We have wrought thee wrong indeed,
+  And, wouldst thou amend it with wrong, thine errand must we speed;
+  For I know of thine heart's desire, and the gold thou shalt nowise lack,
+  --Nor all the works of the gold. But best were thy word drawn back,
+  If indeed the doom of the Norns be not utterly now gone forth.'
+
+  "Then Reidmar laughed and answered: 'So much is thy word of worth!
+  And they call thee Odin for this, and stretch forth hands in vain,
+  And pray for the gifts of a God who giveth and taketh again!
+  It was better in times past over, when we prayed for nought at all,
+  When no love taught us beseeching, and we had no troth to recall.
+  Ye have changed the world, and it bindeth with the right and the wrong
+    ye have made,
+  Nor may ye be Gods henceforward save the rightful ransom be paid.
+  But perchance ye are weary of kingship, and will deal no more with the
+    earth?
+  Then curse the world, and depart, and sit in your changeless mirth;
+  And there shall be no more kings, and battle and murder shall fail,
+  And the world shall laugh and long not, nor weep, nor fashion the tale.'
+
+  "So spake Reidmar the Wise; but the wrath burned through his word,
+  And wasted his heart of wisdom; and there was Fafnir the Lord,
+  And there was Regin the Wright, and they raged at their father's back:
+  And all these cried out together with the voice of the sea-storm's wrack;
+  'O hearken, Gods of the Goths! ye shall die, and we shall be Gods,
+  And rule your men beloved with bitter-heavy rods,
+  And make them beasts beneath us, save to-day ye do our will,
+  And pay us the ransom of blood, and our hearts with the gold fulfill.'
+
+  "But Odin spake in answer, and his voice was awful and cold:
+  'Give righteous doom, O Reidmar! say what ye will of the Gold!'
+
+  "Then Reidmar laughed in his heart, and his wrath and his wisdom fled,
+  And nought but his greed abided; and he spake from his throne and said:
+
+  "'Now hearken the doom I shall speak! Ye stranger-folk shall be free
+  When ye give me the Flame of the Waters, the gathered Gold of the Sea,
+  That Andvari hideth rejoicing in the wan realm pale as the grave;
+  And the Master of Sleight shall fetch it, and the hand that never gave,
+  And the heart that begrudgeth for ever shall gather and give and rue.
+  --Lo! this is the doom of the wise, and no doom shall be spoken anew.'
+
+  "Then Odin spake: 'It is well; the Curser shall seek for the curse;
+  And the Greedy shall cherish the evil--and the seed of the Great they
+    shall nurse.'
+
+  "No word spake Reidmar the great, for the eyes of his heart were turned
+  To the edge of the outer desert, so sore for the gold he yearned.
+  But Loki I loosed from the toils, and he goeth his ways abroad;
+  And the heart of Odin he knoweth, and where he shall seek the Hoard.
+
+  "There is a desert of dread in the uttermost part of the world,
+  Where over a wall of mountains is a mighty water hurled,
+  Whose hidden head none knoweth, nor where it meeteth the sea;
+  And that force is the Force of Andvari, and an Elf of the Dark is he.
+  In the cloud and the desert he dwelleth amid that land alone;
+  And his work is the storing of treasure within his house of stone.
+  Time was when he knew of wisdom, and had many a tale to tell
+  Of the days before the Dwarf-age, and of what in that world befell:
+  And he knew of the stars and the sun, and the worlds that come and go
+  On the nether rim of heaven, and whence the wind doth blow,
+  And how the sea hangs balanced betwixt the curving lands,
+  And how all drew together for the first Gods' fashioning hands.
+  But now is all gone from him, save the craft of gathering gold,
+  And he heedeth nought of the summer, nor knoweth the winter cold,
+  Nor looks to the sun nor the snowfall, nor ever dreams of the sea,
+  Nor hath heard of the making of men-folk, nor of where the high Gods be:
+  But ever he gripeth and gathereth, and he toileth hour by hour
+  Nor knoweth the noon from the midnight as he looks on his stony bower,
+  And saith: 'It is short, it is narrow for all I shall gather and get;
+  For the world is but newly fashioned, and long shall its years be yet.'
+
+  "There Loki fareth, and seeth in a land of nothing good,
+  Far off o'er the empty desert, the reek of the falling flood
+  Go up to the floor of heaven, and thither turn his feet
+  As he weaveth the unseen meshes and the snare of strong deceit;
+  So he cometh his ways to the water, where the glittering foam-bow glows,
+  And the huge flood leaps the rock-wall and a green arch over it throws.
+  There under the roof of water he treads the quivering floor,
+  And the hush of the desert is felt amid the water's roar,
+  And the bleak sun lighteth the wave-vault, and tells of the fruitless
+    plain,
+  And the showers that nourish nothing, and the summer come in vain.
+
+  "There did the great Guile-master his toils and his tangles set,
+  And as wide as was the water, so wide was woven the net;
+  And as dim as the Elf's remembrance did the meshes of it show;
+  And he had no thought of sorrow, nor spared to come and go
+  On his errands of griping and getting till he felt himself tangled and
+    caught:
+  Then back to his blinded soul was his ancient wisdom brought,
+  And he saw his fall and his ruin, as a man by the lightning's flame
+  Sees the garth all flooded by foemen; and again he remembered his name;
+  And e'en as a book well written the tale of the Gods he knew,
+  And the tale of the making of men, and much of the deeds they should do.
+
+  "But Loki took his man-shape, and laughed aloud and cried:
+  'What fish of the ends of the earth is so strong and so feeble-eyed,
+  That he draweth the pouch of my net on his road to the dwelling of Hell?
+  What Elf that hath heard the gold growing, but hath heard not the light
+    winds tell
+  That the Gods with the world have been dealing and have fashioned men
+    for the earth?
+  Where is he that hath ridden the cloud-horse and measured the ocean's
+    girth,
+  But seen nought of the building of God-home nor the forging of the sword:
+  Where then is the maker of nothing, the earless and eyeless lord?
+  In the pouch of my net he lieth, with his head on the threshold of Hell!'
+
+  "Then the Elf lamented, and said: 'Thou knowst of my name full well:
+  Andvari begotten of Oinn, whom the Dwarf-kind called the Wise,
+  By the worst of the Gods is taken, the forge and the father of lies.'
+
+  "Said Loki: 'How of the Elf-kind, do they love their latter life,
+  When their weal is all departed, and they lie alow in the strife?'
+
+  "Then Andvari groaned and answered: 'I know what thou wouldst have,
+  The wealth mine own hands gathered, the gold that no man gave.'
+
+  "'Come forth,' said Loki, 'and give it, and dwell in peace henceforth--
+  Or die in the toils if thou listest, if thy life be nothing worth.'
+
+  "Full sore the Elf lamented, but he came before the God
+  And the twain went into the rock-house and on fine gold they trod,
+  And the walls shone bright, and brighter than the sun of the upper air.
+  How great was that treasure of treasures: and the Helm of Dread was there;
+  The world but in dreams had seen it; and there was the hauberk of gold;
+  None other is in the heavens, nor has earth of its fellow told.
+
+  "Then Loki bade the Elf-king bring all to the upper day,
+  And he dight himself with his Godhead to bear the treasure away:
+  So there in the dim grey desert, before the God of Guile,
+  Great heaps of the hid-world's treasure the weary Elf must pile,
+  And Loki looked on laughing: but, when it all was done,
+  And the Elf was hurrying homeward, his finger gleamed in the sun:
+  Then Loki cried: 'Thou art guileful: thou hast not learned the tale
+  Of the wisdom that Gods have gotten and their might of all avail.
+  Hither to me! that I learn thee of a many things to come;
+  Or despite of all wilt thou journey to the dead man's deedless home.
+  Come hither again to thy master, and give the ring to me;
+  For meseems it is Loki's portion, and the Bale of Men shall it be.'
+
+  "Then the Elf drew off the gold-ring and stood with empty hand
+  E'en where the flood fell over 'twixt the water and the land,
+  And he gazed on the great Guile-master, and huge and grim he grew;
+  And his anguish swelled within him, and the word of the Norns he knew;
+  How that gold was the seed of gold to the wise and the shapers of things,
+  The hoarders of hidden treasure, and the unseen glory of rings;
+  But the seed of woe to the world and the foolish wasters of men,
+  And grief to the generations that die and spring again:
+  Then he cried:
+                 'There farest thou, Loki, and might I load thee worse
+  Than with what thine ill heart beareth, then shouldst thou bear my curse:
+  But for men a curse thou bearest: entangled in my gold,
+  Amid my woe abideth another woe untold.
+  Two brethren and a father, eight kings my grief shall slay;
+  And the hearts of queens shall be broken, and their eyes shall loathe
+    the day.
+  Lo, how the wilderness blossoms! Lo, how the lonely lands
+  Are waving with the harvest that fell from my gathering hands!'
+
+  "But Loki laughed in silence, and swift in Godhead went,
+  To the golden hall of Reidmar and the house of our content.
+  But when that world of treasure was laid within our hall
+  'Twas as if the sun were minded to live 'twixt wall and wall,
+  And all we stood by and panted. Then Odin spake and said:
+
+  "'O Kings, O folk of the Dwarf-kind, lo, the ransom duly paid!
+  Will ye have this sun of the ocean, and reap the fruitful field,
+  And garner up the harvest that earth therefrom shall yield?'
+
+  "So he spake; but a little season nought answered Reidmar the wise
+  But turned his face from the Treasure, and peered with eager eyes
+  Endlong the hall and athwart it, as a man may chase about
+  A ray of the sun of the morning that a naked sword throws out;
+  And lo! from Loki's right-hand came the flash of the fruitful ring,
+  And at last spake Reidmar scowling:
+                            'Ye wait for my yea-saying
+  That your feet may go free on the earth, and the fear of my toils may
+    be done;
+  That then ye may say in your laughter: The fools of the time agone!
+  The purblind eyes of the Dwarf-kind! they have gotten the garnered sheaf
+  And have let their Masters depart with the Seed of Gold and of Grief:
+  O Loki, friend of Allfather, cast down Andvari's Ring,
+  Or the world shall yet turn backward and the high heavens lack a king.'
+
+  "Then Loki drew off the Elf-ring and cast it down on the heap,
+  And forth as the gold met gold did the light of its glory leap:
+  But he spake: 'It rejoiceth my heart that no whit of all ye shall lack,
+  Lest the curse of the Elf-king cleave not, and ye 'scape the utter wrack.'
+
+  "Then laughed and answered Reidmar: 'I shall have it while I live,
+  And that shall be long, meseemeth: for who is there may strive
+  With my sword, the war-wise Fafnir, and my shield that is Regin the Smith?
+  But if indeed I should die, then let men-folk deal therewith,
+  And ride to the golden glitter through evil deeds and good.
+  I will have my heart's desire, and do as the high Gods would.'
+
+  "Then I loosed the Gods from their shackles, and great they grew on
+    the floor
+  And into the night they gat them; but Odin turned by the door,
+  And we looked not, little we heeded, for we grudged his mastery;
+  Then he spake, and his voice was waxen as the voice of the winter sea:
+
+  "'O Kings, O folk of the Dwarfs, why then will ye covet and rue?
+  I have seen your fathers' fathers and the dust wherefrom they grew;
+  But who hath heard of my father or the land where first I sprung?
+  Who knoweth my day of repentance, or the year when I was young?
+  Who hath learned the names of the Wise-one or measured out his will?
+  Who hath gone before to teach him, and the doom of days fulfill?
+  Lo, I look on the Curse of the Gold, and wrong amended by wrong,
+  And love by love confounded, and the strong abased by the strong;
+  And I order it all and amend it, and the deeds that are done I see,
+  And none other beholdeth or knoweth; and who shall be wise unto me?
+  For myself to myself I offered, that all wisdom I might know,
+  And fruitful I waxed of works, and good and fair did they grow;
+  And I knew, and I wrought and fore-ordered; and evil sat by my side,
+  And myself by myself hath been doomed, and I look for the fateful tide;
+  And I deal with the generations, and the men mine hand hath made,
+  And myself by myself shall be grieved, lest the world and its fashioning
+    fade.'
+
+  "They went and the Gold abided: but the words Allfather spake,
+  I call them back full often for that golden even's sake,
+  Yet little that hour I heard them, save as wind across the lea;
+  For the gold shone up on Reidmar and on Fafnir's face and on me.
+  And sore I loved that treasure: so I wrapped my heart in guile,
+  And sleeked my tongue with sweetness, and set my face in a smile,
+  And I bade my father keep it, the more part of the gold,
+  Yet give good store to Fafnir for his goodly help and bold,
+  And deal me a little handful for my smithying-help that day.
+  But no little I desired, though for little I might pray;
+  And prayed I for much or for little, he answered me no more
+  Than the shepherd answers the wood-wolf who howls at the yule-tide door:
+  But good he ever deemed it to sit on his ivory throne,
+  And stare on the red rings' glory, and deem he was ever alone:
+  And never a word spake Fafnir, but his eyes waxed red and grim
+  As he looked upon our father, and noted the ways of him.
+
+  "The night waned into the morning, and still above the Hoard
+  Sat Reidmar clad in purple; but Fafnir took his sword,
+  And I took my smithying-hammer, and apart in the world we went;
+  But I came aback in the even, and my heart was heavy and spent;
+  And I longed, but fear was upon me and I durst not go to the Gold;
+  So I lay in the house of my toil mid the things I had fashioned of old;
+  And methought as I lay in my bed 'twixt waking and slumber of night
+  That I heard the tinkling metal and beheld the hall alight,
+  But I slept and dreamed of the Gods, and the things that never have slept,
+  Till I woke to a cry and a clashing and forth from the bed I leapt,
+  And there by the heaped-up Elf-gold my brother Fafnir stood,
+  And there at his feet lay Reidmar and reddened the Treasure with blood;
+  And e'en as I looked on his eyen they glazed and whitened with death,
+  And forth on the torch-litten hall he shed his latest breath.
+
+  "But I looked on Fafnir and trembled for he wore the Helm of Dread,
+  And his sword was bare in his hand, and the sword and the hand were red
+  With the blood of our father Reidmar, and his body was wrapped in gold,
+  With the ruddy-gleaming mailcoat of whose fellow hath nought been told,
+  And it seemed as I looked upon him that he grew beneath mine eyes:
+  And then in the mid-hall's silence did his dreadful voice arise:
+
+  "'I have slain my father Reidmar, that I alone might keep
+  The Gold of the darksome places, the Candle of the Deep.
+  I am such as the Gods have made me, lest the Dwarf-kind people the earth,
+  Or mingle their ancient wisdom with its short-lived latest birth.
+  I shall dwell alone henceforward, and the Gold and its waxing curse,
+  I shall brood on them both together, let my life grow better or worse.
+  And I am a King henceforward and long shall be my life,
+  And the Gold shall grow with my longing, for I shall hide it from strife,
+  And hoard up the Ring of Andvari in the house thine hand hath built.
+  O thou, wilt thou tarry and tarry, till I cast thy blood on the guilt?
+  Lo, I am a King for ever, and alone on the Gold shall I dwell
+  And do no deed to repent of and leave no tale to tell.'
+
+  "More awful grew his visage as he spake the word of dread
+  And no more durst I behold him, but with heart a-cold I fled;
+  I fled from the glorious house my hands had made so fair,
+  As poor as the new-born baby with nought of raiment or gear:
+  I fled from the heaps of gold, and my goods were the eager will,
+  And the heart that remembereth all, and the hand that may never be still.
+
+  "Then unto this land I came, and that was long ago
+  As men-folk count the years; and I taught them to reap and to sow,
+  And a famous man I became: but that generation died,
+  And they said that Frey had taught them, and a God my name did hide.
+  Then I taught them the craft of metals, and the sailing of the sea,
+  And the taming of the horse-kind, and the yoke-beasts' husbandry,
+  And the building up of houses; and that race of men went by,
+  And they said that Thor had taught them; and a smithying-carle was I.
+  Then I gave their maidens the needle and I bade them hold the rock,
+  And the shuttle-race gaped for them as they sat at the weaving-stock.
+  But by then these were waxen crones to sit dim-eyed by the door,
+  It was Freyia had come among them to teach the weaving-lore.
+
+  "Then I taught them the tales of old, and fair songs fashioned and true,
+  And their speech grew into music of measured time and due,
+  And they smote the harp to my bidding, and the land grew soft and sweet:
+  But ere the grass of their grave-mounds rose up above my feet,
+  It was Bragi had made them sweet-mouthed, and I was the wandering scald;
+  Yet green did my cunning flourish by whatso name I was called,
+  And I grew the master of masters--Think thou how strange it is
+  That the sword in the hands of a stripling shall one day end all this!
+
+  "Yet oft mid all my wisdom did I long for my brother's part,
+  And Fafnir's mighty kingship weighed heavy on my heart
+  When the Kings of the earthly kingdoms would give me golden gifts
+  From out of their scanty treasures, due pay for my cunning shifts.
+  And once--didst thou number the years thou wouldst think it long ago--
+  I wandered away to the country from whence our stem did grow.
+  There methought the fells grown greater, but waste did the meadows lie
+  And the house was rent and ragged and open to the sky.
+  But lo, when I came to the doorway, great silence brooded there,
+  Nor bat nor owl would haunt it, nor the wood-wolves drew anear.
+  Then I went to the pillared hall-stead, and lo, huge heaps of gold,
+  And to and fro amidst them a mighty Serpent rolled:
+  Then my heart grew chill with terror, for I thought on the wont of our
+    race,
+  And I, who had lost their cunning, was a man in a deadly place,
+  A feeble man and a swordless in the lone destroyer's fold;
+  For I knew that the Worm was Fafnir, the Wallower on the Gold.
+
+  "So I gathered my strength and fled, and hid my shame again
+  Mid the foolish sons of men-folk; and the more my hope was vain,
+  The more I longed for the Treasure, and deliv'rance from the yoke:
+  And yet passed the generations, and I dwelt with the short-lived folk.
+
+  "Long years, and long years after the tale of men-folk told
+  How up on the Glittering Heath was the house and the dwelling of gold,
+  And within that house was the Serpent, and the Lord of the Fearful Face:
+  Then I wondered sore of the desert; for I thought of the golden place
+  My hands of old had builded; for I knew by many a sign
+  That the Fearful Face was my brother, that the blood
+  of the Worm was mine.
+
+  "This was ages long ago, and yet in that desert he dwells,
+  Betwixt him and men death lieth, and no man of his semblance tells;
+  But the tale of the great Gold-wallower is never the more outworn.
+  Then came thy kin, O Sigurd, and thy father's father was born,
+  And I fell to the dreaming of dreams, and I saw thine eyes therein,
+  And I looked and beheld thy glory and all that thy sword should win;
+  And I thought that thou shouldst be he, who should bring my heart its
+    rest,
+  That of all the gifts of the Kings thy sword should give me the best.
+
+  "Ah, I fell to the dreaming of dreams; and oft the gold I saw,
+  And the golden-fashioned Hauberk, clean-wrought without a flaw,
+  And the Helm that aweth the world; and I knew of Fafnir's heart
+  That his wisdom was greater than mine, because he had held him apart,
+  Nor spilt on the sons of men-folk our knowledge of ancient days,
+  Nor bartered one whit for their love, nor craved for the people's praise.
+
+  "And some day I shall have it all, his gold and his craft and his heart
+  And the gathered and garnered wisdom he guards in the mountains apart.
+  And then when my hand is upon it, my hand shall be as the spring
+  To thaw his winter away and the fruitful tide to bring.
+  It shall grow, it shall grow into summer, and I shall be he that wrought,
+  And my deeds shall be remembered, and my name that once was nought;
+  Yea I shall be Frey, and Thor, and Freyia, and Bragi in one:
+  Yea the God of all that is,--and no deed in the wide world done,
+  But the deed that my heart would fashion: and the songs of the freed
+    from the yoke
+  Shall bear to my house in the heavens the love and the longing of folk;
+  And there shall be no more dying, and the sea shall be as the land,
+  And the world for ever and ever shall be young beneath my hand."
+
+  Then his eyelids fell, and he slumbered, and it seemed as Sigurd gazed
+  That the flames leapt up in the stithy and about the Master blazed,
+  And his hand in the harp-strings wandered and the sweetness from them
+    poured.
+  Then unto his feet leapt Sigurd and drew his stripling's sword,
+  And he cried: "Awake, O Master, for, lo, the day goes by,
+  And this too is an ancient story, that the sons of men-folk die,
+  And all save fame departeth. Awake! for the day grows late,
+  And deeds by the door are passing, nor the Norns will have them wait."
+
+  Then Regin groaned and wakened, sad-eyed and heavy-browed,
+  And weary and worn was he waxen, as a man by a burden bowed:
+  And he spake: "Hast thou hearkened, Sigurd, wilt thou help a man that
+    is old
+  To avenge him for his father? Wilt thou win that Treasure of Gold
+  And be more than the Kings of the earth? Wilt thou rid the earth of a
+    wrong
+  And heal the woe and the sorrow my heart hath endured o'erlong?"
+
+  Then Sigurd looked upon him with steadfast eyes and clear,
+  And Regin drooped and trembled as he stood the doom to hear:
+  But the bright child spake as aforetime, and answered the Master and said:
+  "Thou shalt have thy will, and the Treasure, and take the curse on
+    thine head."
+
+
+    _Of the forging of the Sword that is called The Wrath of Sigurd._
+
+  Now again came Sigurd to Regin, and said: "Thou hast taught me a task
+  Whereof none knoweth the ending: and a gift at thine hands I ask."
+
+  Then answered Regin the Master: "The world must be wide indeed
+  If my hand may not reach across it for aught thine heart may need."
+
+  "Yea wide is the world," said Sigurd, "and soon spoken is thy word;
+  But this gift thou shalt nought gainsay me: for I bid thee forge me a
+    sword."
+
+  Then spake the Master of Masters, and his voice was sweet and soft,
+  "Look forth abroad, O Sigurd, and note in the heavens aloft
+  How the dim white moon of the daylight hangs round as the Goth-God's
+    shield:
+  Now for thee first rang mine anvil when she walked the heavenly field
+  A slim and lovely lady, and the old moon lay on her arm:
+  Lo, here is a sword I have wrought thee with many a spell and charm
+  And all the craft of the Dwarf-kind; be glad thereof and sure;
+  Mid many a storm of battle full well shall it endure."
+
+  Then Sigurd looked on the slayer, and never a word would speak:
+  Gemmed were the hilts and golden, and the blade was blue and bleak,
+  And runes of the Dwarf-kind's cunning each side the trench were scored:
+  But soft and sweet spake Regin: "How likest thou the sword?"
+
+  Then Sigurd laughed and answered: "The work is proved by the deed;
+  See now if this be a traitor to fail me in my need."
+
+  Then Regin trembled and shrank, so bright his eyes outshone
+  As he turned about to the anvil, and smote the sword thereon;
+  But the shards fell shivering earthward, and Sigurd's heart grew wroth
+  As the steel-flakes tinkled about him: "Lo, there the right-hand's troth!
+  Lo, there the golden glitter, and the word that soon is spilt."
+  And down amongst the ashes he cast the glittering hilt,
+  And turned his back on Regin and strode out through the door
+  And for many a day of spring-tide came back again no more.
+  But at last he came to the stithy and again took up the word:
+  "What hast thou done, O Master, in the forging of the sword?"
+
+  Then sweetly Regin answered: "Hard task-master art thou,
+  But lo, a blade of battle that shall surely please thee now!
+  Two moons are clean departed since thou lookedst toward the sky
+  And sawest the dim white circle amid the cloud-flecks lie;
+  And night and day have I laboured; and the cunning of old days
+  Hath surely left my right-hand if this sword thou shalt not praise."
+
+  And indeed the hilts gleamed glorious with many a dear-bought stone,
+  And down the fallow edges the light of battle shone;
+  Yet Sigurd's eyes shone brighter, nor yet might Regin face
+  Those eyes of the heart of the Volsungs; but trembled in his place
+  As Sigurd cried: "O Regin, thy kin of the days of old
+  Were an evil and treacherous folk, and they lied and murdered for gold;
+  And now if thou wouldst bewray me, of the ancient curse beware,
+  And set thy face as the flint the bale and the shame to bear:
+  For he that would win to the heavens, and be as the Gods on high
+  Must tremble nought at the road, and the place where men-folk die."
+
+  White leaps the blade in his hand and gleams in the gear of the wall,
+  And he smites, and the oft-smitten edges on the beaten anvil fall:
+  But the life of the sword departed, and dull and broken it lay
+  On the ashes and flaked-off iron, and no word did Sigurd say,
+  But strode off through the door of the stithy and went to the Hall of
+    Kings,
+  And was merry and blithe that even mid all imaginings.
+
+  But when the morrow was come he went to his mother and spake:
+  "The shards, the shards of the sword, that thou gleanedst for my sake
+  In the night on the field of slaughter, in the tide when my father fell,
+  Hast thou kept them through sorrow and joyance? hast thou warded them
+    trusty and well?
+  Where hast thou laid them, my mother?"
+                  Then she looked upon him and said:
+  "Art thou wroth, O Sigurd my son, that such eyes are in thine head?
+  And wilt thou be wroth with thy mother? do I withstand thee at all?"
+
+  "Nay," said he, "nought am I wrathful, but the days rise up like a wall
+  Betwixt my soul and the deeds, and I strive to rend them through.
+  And why wilt thou fear mine eyen? as the sword lies baleful and blue
+  E'en 'twixt the lips of lovers, when they swear their troth thereon,
+  So keen are the eyes ye have fashioned, ye folk of the days agone;
+  For therein is the light of battle, though whiles it lieth asleep.
+  Now give me the sword, my mother, that Sigmund gave thee to keep."
+
+  She said: "I shall give it thee gladly, for fain shall I be of thy praise
+  When thou knowest my careful keeping of that hope of the earlier days."
+
+  So she took his hand in her hand, and they went their ways, they twain,
+  Till they came to the treasure of queen-folk, the guarded chamber of gain:
+  They were all alone with its riches, and she turned the key in the gold,
+  And lifted the sea-born purple, and the silken web unrolled,
+  And lo, 'twixt her hands and her bosom the shards of Sigmund's sword;
+  No rust-fleck stained its edges, and the gems of the ocean's hoard
+  Were as bright in the hilts and glorious, as when in the Volsungs' hall
+  It shone in the eyes of the earl-folk and flashed from the shielded wall.
+
+  But Sigurd smiled upon it, and he said: "O Mother of Kings,
+  Well hast thou warded the war-glaive for a mirror of many things,
+  And a hope of much fulfilment: well hast thou given to me
+  The message of my fathers, and the word of things to be:
+  Trusty hath been thy warding, but its hour is over now:
+  These shards shall be knit together, and shall hear the war-wind blow.
+  They shall shine through the rain of Odin, as the sun come back to the
+    world,
+  When the heaviest bolt of the thunder amidst the storm is hurled:
+  They shall shake the thrones of Kings, and shear the walls of war,
+  And undo the knot of treason when the world is darkening o'er.
+  They have shone in the dusk and the night-tide, they shall shine in the
+    dawn and the day;
+  They have gathered the storm together, they shall chase the clouds away;
+  They have sheared red gold asunder, they shall gleam o'er the garnered
+    gold;
+  They have ended many a story, they shall fashion a tale to be told:
+  They have lived in the wrack of the people; they shall live in the glory
+    of folk:
+  They have stricken the Gods in battle, for the Gods shall they strike
+    the stroke."
+
+  Then she felt his hands about her as he took the fateful sword,
+  And he kissed her soft and sweetly; but she answered never a word:
+  So great and fair was he waxen, so glorious was his face,
+  So young, as the deathless Gods are, that long in the golden place
+  She stood when he was departed: as some for-travailed one
+  Comes over the dark fell-ridges on the birth-tide of the sun,
+  And his gathering sleep falls from him mid the glory and the blaze;
+  And he sees the world grow merry and looks on the lightened ways,
+  While the ruddy streaks are melting in the day-flood broad and white;
+  Then the morn-dusk he forgetteth, and the moon-lit waste of night,
+  And the hall whence he departed with its yellow candles' flare:
+  So stood the Isle-king's daughter in that treasure-chamber fair.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+  But swift on his ways went Sigurd, and to Regin's house he came,
+  Where the Master stood in the doorway and behind him leapt the flame,
+  And dark he looked and little: no more his speech was sweet,
+  No words on his lip were gathered the Volsung child to greet,
+  Till he took the sword from Sigurd and the shards of the days of old;
+  Then he spake:
+                 "Will nothing serve thee save this blue steel and cold,
+  The bane of thy father's father, the fate of all his kin,
+  The baleful blade I fashioned, the Wrath that the Gods would win?"
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+  Then answered the eye-bright Sigurd: "If thou thy craft wilt do
+  Nought save these battle-gleanings shall be my helper true:
+  And what if thou begrudgest, and my battle-blade be dull,
+  Yet the hand of the Norns is lifted and the cup is over-full.
+  Repentst thou ne'er so sorely that thy kin must lie alow,
+  How much soe'er thou longest the world to overthrow,
+  And, doubting the gold and the wisdom, wouldst even now appease
+  Blind hate and eyeless murder, and win the world with these;
+  O'er-late is the time for repenting the word thy lips have said:
+  Thou shalt have the Gold and the wisdom and take its curse on thine head.
+  I say that thy lips have spoken, and no more with thee it lies
+  To do the deed or leave it: since thou hast shown mine eyes
+  The world that was aforetime, I see the world to be;
+  And woe to the tangling thicket, or the wall that hindereth me!
+  And short is the space I will tarry; for how if the Worm should die
+  Ere the first of my strokes be stricken? Wilt thou get to thy mastery
+  And knit these shards together that once in the Branstock stood?
+  But if not and a smith's hands fail me, a king's hand yet shall be good;
+  And the Norns have doomed thy brother. And yet I deem this sword
+  Is the slayer of the Serpent, and the scatterer of the Hoard."
+
+  Great waxed the gloom of Regin, and he said: "Thou sayest sooth
+  For none may turn him backward: the sword of a very youth
+  Shall one day end my cunning, as the Gods my joyance slew,
+  When nought thereof they were deeming, and another thing would do.
+  But this sword shall slay the Serpent; and do another deed,
+  And many an one thereafter till it fail thee in thy need.
+  But as fair and great as thou standest, yet get thee from mine house,
+  For in me too might ariseth, and the place is perilous
+  With the craft that was aforetime, and shall never be again,
+  When the hands that have taught thee cunning have failed from the world
+    of men.
+  Thou art wroth; but thy wrath must slumber till fate its blossom bear;
+  Not thus were the eyes of Odin when I held him in the snare.
+  Depart! lest the end overtake us ere thy work and mine be done,
+  But come again in the night-tide and the slumber of the sun,
+  When the sharded moon of April hangs round in the undark May."
+
+  Hither and thither a while did the heart of Sigurd sway
+  For he feared no craft of the Dwarf-kind, nor heeded the ways of Fate,
+  But his hand wrought e'en as his heart would: and now was he weary with
+    hate
+  Of the hatred and scorn of the Gods, and the greed of gold and of gain,
+  And the weaponless hands of the stripling of the wrath and the rending
+    were fain,
+  But there stood Regin the Master, and his eyes were on Sigurd's eyes,
+  Though nought belike they beheld him, and his brow was sad and wise;
+  And the greed died out of his visage and he stood like an image of old.
+
+  So the Norns drew Sigurd away, and the tide was an even of gold,
+  And sweet in the April even were the fowl-kind singing their best;
+  And the light of life smote Sigurd, and the joy that knows no rest,
+  And the fond unnamed desire, and the hope of hidden things;
+  And he wended fair and lovely to the house of the feasting Kings.
+
+  But now when the moon was at full and the undark May begun,
+  Went Sigurd unto Regin mid the slumber of the sun,
+  And amidst the fire-hall's pavement the King of the Dwarf-kind stood
+  Like an image of deeds departed and days that once were good;
+  And he seemed but faint and weary, and his eyes were dim and dazed
+  As they met the glory of Sigurd where the fitful candles blazed.
+  Then he spake:
+    "Hail, Son of the Volsungs, the corner-stone is laid,
+  I have toiled and thou hast desired, and, lo, the fateful blade!"
+
+  Then Sigurd saw it lying on the ashes slaked and pale
+  Like the sun and the lightning mingled mid the even's cloudy bale;
+  For ruddy and great were the hilts, and the edges fine and wan,
+  And all adown to the blood-point a very flame there ran
+  That swallowed the runes of wisdom wherewith its sides were scored.
+  No sound did Sigurd utter as he stooped adown for his sword,
+  But it seemed as his lips were moving with speech of strong desire.
+  White leapt the blade o'er his head, and he stood in the ring of its fire
+  As hither and thither it played, till it fell on the anvil's strength,
+  And he cried aloud in his glory, and held out the sword full length,
+  As one who would show it the world; for the edges were dulled no whit,
+  And the anvil was cleft to the pavement with the dreadful dint of it.
+
+  But Regin cried to his harp-strings: "Before the days of men
+  I smithied the Wrath of Sigurd, and now is it smithied again:
+  And my hand alone hath done it, and my heart alone hath dared
+  To bid that man to the mountain, and behold his glory bared.
+  Ah, if the son of Sigmund might wot of the thing I would,
+  Then how were the ages bettered, and the world all waxen good!
+  Then how were the past forgotten and the weary days of yore,
+  And the hope of man that dieth and the waste that never bore!
+  How should this one live through the winter and know of all increase!
+  How should that one spring to the sunlight and bear the blossom of peace!
+  No more should the long-lived wisdom o'er the waste of the wilderness
+    stray;
+  Nor the clear-eyed hero hasten to the deedless ending of day.
+  And what if the hearts of the Volsungs for this deed of deeds were born,
+  How then were their life-days evil and the end of their lives forlorn?"
+
+  There stood Sigurd the Volsung, and heard how the harp-strings rang,
+  But of other things they told him than the hope that the Master sang;
+  And his world lay far away from the Dwarf-king's eyeless realm
+  And the road that leadeth nowhere, and the ship without a helm:
+  But he spake: "How oft shall I say it, that I shall work thy will?
+  If my father hath made me mighty, thine heart shall I fulfill
+  With the wisdom and gold thou wouldest, before I wend on my ways;
+  For now hast thou failed me nought, and the sword is the wonder of days."
+
+  No word for a while spake Regin; but he hung his head adown
+  As a man that pondereth sorely, and his voice once more was grown
+  As the voice of the smithying-master as he spake: "This Wrath of thine
+  Hath cleft the hard and the heavy; it shall shear the soft and the fine:
+  Come forth to the night and prove it."
+                       So they twain went forth abroad,
+  And the moon lay white on the river and lit the sleepless ford,
+  And down to its pools they wended, and the stream was swift and full;
+  Then Regin cast against it a lock of fine-spun wool,
+  And it whirled about on the eddy till it met the edges bared,
+  And as clean as the careless water the laboured fleece was sheared.
+
+  Then Regin spake: "It is good, what the smithying-carle hath wrought:
+  Now the work of the King beginneth, and the end that my soul hath sought.
+  Thou shalt toil and I shall desire, and the deed shall be surely done:
+  For thy Wrath is alive and awake and the story of bale is begun."
+
+  Therewith was the Wrath of Sigurd laid soft in a golden sheath
+  And the peace-strings knit around it; for that blade was fain of death;
+  And 'tis ill to show such edges to the broad blue light of day,
+  Or to let the hall-glare light them, if ye list not play the play.
+
+
+    _Of Gripir's Foretelling._
+
+  Now Sigurd backeth Greyfell on the first of the morrow morn,
+  And he rideth fair and softly through the acres of the corn;
+  The Wrath to his side is girded, but hid are the edges blue,
+  As he wendeth his ways to the mountains, and rideth the horse-mead
+    through.
+  His wide grey eyes are happy, and his voice is sweet and soft,
+  As amid the mead-lark's singing he casteth song aloft:
+  Lo, lo, the horse and the rider! So once maybe it was,
+  When over the Earth unpeopled the youngest God would pass;
+  But never again meseemeth shall such a sight betide,
+  Till over a world unwrongful new-born shall Baldur ride.
+
+  So he comes to that ness of the mountains, and Gripir's garden steep,
+  That bravely Greyfell breasteth, and adown by the door doth he leap
+  And his war-gear rattleth upon him; there is none to ask or forbid
+  As he wendeth the house clear-lighted, where no mote of the dust is hid,
+  Though the sunlight hath not entered: the walls are clear and bright,
+  For they cast back each to other the golden Sigurd's light;
+  Through the echoing ways of the house bright-eyed he wendeth along,
+  And the mountain-wind is with him, and the hovering eagles' song;
+  But no sound of the children of men may the ears of the Volsung hear,
+  And no sign of their ways in the world, or their will, or their hope
+    or their fear.
+
+  So he comes to the hall of Gripir, and gleaming-green is it built
+  As the house of under-ocean where the wealth of the greedy is spilt;
+  Gleaming and green as the sea, and rich as its rock-strewn floor,
+  And fresh as the autumn morning when the burning of summer is o'er.
+  There he looks and beholdeth the high-seat, and he sees it strangely
+    wrought,
+  Of the tooth of the sea-beast fashioned ere the Dwarf-kind came to
+    nought;
+  And he looks, and thereon is Gripir, the King exceeding old,
+  With the sword of his fathers girded, and his raiment wrought of gold;
+  With the ivory rod in his right-hand, with his left on the crystal laid,
+  That is round as the world of men-folk, and after its image made,
+  And clear is it wrought to the eyen that may read therein of Fate
+  Though little indeed be its sea, and its earth not wondrous great.
+
+  There Sigurd stands in the hall, on the sheathed Wrath doth he lean,
+  All his golden light is mirrored in the gleaming floor and green;
+  But the smile in his face upriseth as he looks on the ancient King,
+  And their glad eyes meet and their laughter, and sweet is the welcoming:
+  And Gripir saith: "Hail Sigurd! for my bidding hast thou done,
+  And here in the mountain-dwelling are two Kings of men alone."
+
+  But Sigurd spake: "Hail father! I am girt with the fateful sword
+  And my face is set to the highway, and I come for thy latest word."
+
+  Said Gripir: "What wouldst thou hearken ere we sit and drink the wine?"
+
+  "Thy word and the Norns'," said Sigurd, "but never a word of mine."
+
+  "What sights wouldst thou see," said Gripir, "ere mine hand shall take
+    thine hand?"
+
+  "As the Gods would I see," said Sigurd, "though Death light up the land."
+
+  "What hope wouldst thou hope, O Sigurd, ere we kiss, we twain, and
+    depart?"
+
+  "Thy hope and the Gods'," said Sigurd, "though the grief lie hard on
+    my heart."
+
+  Nought answered the ancient wise-one, and not a whit had he stirred
+  Since the clash of Sigurd's raiment in his mountain-hall he heard;
+  But the ball that imaged the earth was set in his hand grown old;
+  And belike it was to his vision, as the wide-world's ocean rolled,
+  And the forests waved with the wind, and the corn was gay with the lark,
+  And the gold in its nether places grew up in the dusk and the dark,
+  And its children built and departed, and its King-folk conquered and went,
+  As over the crystal image his all-wise face was bent:
+  For all his desire was dead, and he lived as a God shall live,
+  Who the prayers of the world hath forgotten, and to whom no hand may give.
+
+  But there stood the mighty Volsung, and leaned on the hidden Wrath;
+  As the earliest sun's uprising o'er the sea-plain draws a path
+  Whereby men sail to the Eastward and the dawn of another day,
+  So the image of King Sigurd on the gleaming pavement lay.
+
+  Then great in the hall fair-pillared the voice of Gripir arose,
+  And it ran through the glimmering house-ways, and forth to the sunny
+    close;
+  There mid the birds' rejoicing went the voice of an o'er-wise King
+  Like a wind of midmost winter come back to talk with spring.
+
+  But the voice cried: "Sigurd, Sigurd! O great, O early born!
+  O hope of the Kings first fashioned! O blossom of the morn!
+  Short day and long remembrance, fair summer of the North!
+  One day shall the worn world wonder how first thou wentest forth!
+
+  "Arise, O Sigurd, Sigurd! in the night arise and go,
+  Thou shalt smite when the day-dawn glimmers through the folds of
+    God-home's foe:
+
+  "There the child in the noon-tide smiteth; the young King rendeth apart,
+  The old guile by the guile encompassed, the heart made wise by the heart.
+
+  "Bind the red rings, O Sigurd; bind up to cast abroad!
+  That the earth may laugh before thee rejoiced by the Waters' Hoard.
+
+  "Ride on, O Sigurd, Sigurd! for God's word goes forth on the wind,
+  And he speaketh not twice over; nor shall they loose that bind:
+  But the Day and the Day shall loosen, and the Day shall awake and arise,
+  And the Day shall rejoice with the Dawning, and the wise heart learn of
+    the wise.
+
+  "O fair, O fearless, O mighty, how green are the garths of Kings,
+  How soft are the ways before thee to the heart of their war-farings!
+
+  "How green are the garths of King-folk, how fair is the lily and rose
+  In the house of the Cloudy People, 'neath the towers of kings and foes!
+
+  "Smite now, smite now in the noontide! ride on through the hosts of men!
+  Lest the dear remembrance perish, and today come not again.
+
+  "Is it day?--But the house is darkling--But the hand would gather and
+    hold,
+  And the lips have kissed the cloud-wreath, and a cloud the arms enfold.
+
+  "In the dusk hath the Sower arisen; in the dark hath he cast the seed,
+  And the ear is the sorrow of Odin and the wrong, and the nameless need!
+
+  "Ah the hand hath gathered and garnered, and empty is the hand,
+  Though the day be full and fruitful mid the drift of the Cloudy Land!
+
+  "Look, look on the drift of the clouds, how the day and the even doth
+    grow
+  As the long-forgotten dawning that was a while ago!
+
+  "Dawn, dawn, O mighty of men! and why wilt thou never awake,
+  When the holy field of the Goth-folk cries out for thy love and thy sake?
+
+  "Dawn, now; but the house is silent, and dark is the purple blood
+  On the breast of the Queen fair-fashioned; and it riseth up as a flood
+  Round the posts of the door beloved; and a deed there lieth therein:
+  The last of the deeds of Sigurd; the worst of the Cloudy Kin--
+  The slayer slain by the slain within the door and without.
+  --O dawn as the eve of the birth-day! O dark world cumbered with doubt!
+
+  "Shall it never be day any more, nor the sun's uprising and growth?
+  Shall the kings of earth lie sleeping and the war-dukes wander in sloth
+  Through the last of the winter twilight? is the word of the wise-ones said
+  Till the five-fold winter be ended and the trumpet waken the dead?
+
+  "Short day and long remembrance! great glory for the earth!
+  O deeds of the Day triumphant! O word of Sigurd's worth!
+  It is done, and who shall undo it of all who were ever alive?
+  May the Gods or the high Gods' masters 'gainst the tale of the righteous
+    strive,
+  And the deeds to follow after, and all their deeds increase,
+  Till the uttermost field is foughten, and Baldur riseth in peace!
+
+  "Cry out, O waste, before him! O rocks of the wilderness, cry!
+  For to-morn shalt thou see the glory, and the man not made to die!
+  Cry out, O upper heavens! O clouds beneath the lift
+  For the golden King shall be riding high-headed midst the drift:
+  The mountain waits and the fire; there waiteth the heart of the wise
+  Till the earthly toil is accomplished, and again shall the fire arise;
+  And none shall be nigh in the ending and none by his heart shall be laid,
+  Save the world that he cherished and quickened, and the Day that he
+    wakened and made."
+
+  So died the voice of Gripir from amidst the sunny close,
+  And the sound of hastening eagles from the mountain's feet arose,
+  But the hall was silent a little, for still stood Sigmund's son,
+  And he heard the words and remembered, and knew them one by one.
+  Then he turned on the ancient Gripir with eyes that knew no guile
+  And smiled on the wise of King-folk as the first of men might smile
+  On the God that hath fashioned him happy; and he spake:
+                     "Hast thou spoken and known
+  How there standeth a child before thee and a stripling scarcely grown?
+  Or hast thou told of the Volsungs, and the gathered heart of these,
+  And their still unquenched desire for garnering fame's increase?
+  E'en so do I hearken thy words: for I wot how they deem it long
+  Till a man from their seed be arisen to deal with the cumber and wrong.
+  Bid me therefore to sit by thy side, for behold I wend on my way,
+  And the gates swing to behind me, and each day of mine is a day
+  With deeds in the eve and the morning, nor deeds shall the noontide lack;
+  To the right and the left none calleth, and no voice crieth aback."
+
+  "Come, kin of the Gods," said Gripir, "come up and sit by my side
+  That we twain may be glad as the fearless, and they that have nothing
+    to hide:
+  I have wrought out my will and abide it, and I sit ungrieved and alone,
+  I look upon men and I help not; to me are the deeds long done
+  As those of to-day and to-morrow: for these and for those am I glad;
+  But the Gods and men are the framers, and the days of my life I have had."
+
+  Then Sigurd came unto Gripir, and he kissed the wise-one's face,
+  And they sat in the high-seat together, the child and the elder of days;
+  And they drank of the wine of King-folk, and were joyful each of each,
+  And spake for a while of matters that are meet for King-folk's speech;
+  The deeds of men that have been and Kin of the Kings of the earth;
+  And Gripir told of the outlands, and the mid-world's billowy girth,
+  And tales of the upper heaven were mingled with his talk,
+  And the halls where the Sea-Queen's kindred o'er the gem-strewn pavement
+    walk,
+  And the innermost parts of the earth, where they lie, the green and the
+    blue,
+  And the red and the glittering gem-stones that of old the Dwarf-kind knew.
+
+  Long Sigurd sat and marvelled at the mouth that might not lie,
+  And the eyes no God had blinded, and the lone heart raised on high,
+  Then he rose from the gleaming high-seat, and the rings of battle rang
+  And the sheathed Wrath was hearkening and a song of war it sang,
+  But Sigurd spake unto Gripir:
+                    "Long and lovely are thy days,
+  And thy years fulfilled of wisdom, and thy feet on the unhid ways,
+  And the guileless heart of the great that knoweth not anger nor pain:
+  So once hath a man been fashioned and shall not be again.
+  But for me hath been foaled the war-horse, the grey steed swift as the
+    cloud,
+  And for me were the edges smithied, and the Wrath cries out aloud;
+  And a voice hath called from the darkness, and I ride to the Glittering
+    Heath;
+  To smite on the door of Destruction, and waken the warder of Death."
+
+  So they kissed, the wise and the wise, and the child from the elder
+    turned;
+  And again in the glimmering house-ways the golden Sigurd burned;
+  He stood outside in the sunlight, and tarried never a deal,
+  But leapt on the cloudy Greyfell with the clank of gold and steel,
+  And he rode through the sinking day to the walls of the kingly stead,
+  And came to Regin's dwelling when the wind was fallen dead,
+  And the great sun just departing: then blood-red grew the west,
+  And the fowl flew home from the sea-mead, and all things sank to rest.
+
+
+    _Sigurd rideth to the Glittering Heath._
+
+  Again on the morrow morning doth Sigurd the Volsung ride,
+  And Regin, the Master of Masters, is faring by his side,
+  And they leave the dwelling of kings and ride the summer land,
+  Until at the eve of the day the hills are on either hand:
+  Then they wend up higher and higher, and over the heaths they fare
+  Till the moon shines broad on the midnight, and they sleep 'neath the
+    heavens bare;
+  And they waken and look behind them, and lo, the dawning of day
+  And the little land of the Helper and its valley far away;
+  But the mountains rise before them, a wall exceeding great.
+
+  Then spake the Master of Masters: "We have come to the garth and the gate:
+  There is youth and rest behind thee and many a thing to do,
+  There is many a fond desire, and each day born anew;
+  And the land of the Volsungs to conquer, and many a people's praise:
+  And for me there is rest it maybe, and the peaceful end of days.
+  We have come to the garth and the gate; to the hall-door now shall we win,
+  Shall we go to look on the high-seat and see what sitteth therein?"
+
+  "Yea and what else?" said Sigurd, "was thy tale but mockeries
+  And have I been drifted hither on a wind of empty lies?"
+
+  "It was sooth, it was sooth," said Regin, "and more might I have told
+  Had I heart and space to remember the deeds of the days of old."
+
+  And he hung down his head as he spake it, and was silent a little space;
+  And when it was lifted again there was fear in the Dwarf-king's face.
+  And he said: "Thou knowest my thought, and wise-hearted art thou grown:
+  It were well if thine eyes were blinder, and we each were faring alone,
+  And I with my eld and my wisdom, and thou with thy youth and thy might;
+  Yet whiles I dream I have wrought thee, a beam of the morning bright,
+  A fatherless motherless glory, to work out my desire;
+  Then high my hope ariseth, and my heart is all afire
+  For the world I behold from afar, and the day that yet shall be;
+  Then I wake and all things I remember and a youth of the Kings I see--
+  --The child of the Wood-abider, the seed of a conquered King,
+  The sword that the Gods have fashioned, the fate that men shall sing:--
+  Ah might the world run backward to the days of the Dwarfs of old,
+  When I hewed out the pillars of crystal, and smoothed the walls of gold!"
+
+  Nought answered the Son of Sigmund; nay he heard him nought at all,
+  Save as though the wind were speaking in the bights of the mountain-hall:
+  But he leapt aback of Greyfell, and the glorious sun rose up,
+  And the heavens glowed above him like the bowl of Baldur's cup,
+  And a golden man was he waxen; as the heart of the sun he seemed,
+  While over the feet of the mountains like blood the new light streamed;
+  Then Sigurd cried to Greyfell and swift for the pass he rode
+  And Regin followed after as a man bowed down by a load.
+
+  Day-long they fared through the mountains, and that highway's fashioner
+  Forsooth was a fearful craftsman, and his hands the waters were,
+  And the heaped-up ice was his mattock, and the fire-blast was his man,
+  And never a whit he heeded though his walls were waste and wan,
+  And the guest-halls of that wayside great heaps of the ashes spent.
+  But, each as a man alone, through the sun-bright day they went,
+  And they rode till the moon rose upward, and the stars were small and
+    fair,
+  Then they slept on the long-slaked ashes beneath the heavens bare;
+  And the cold dawn came and they wakened, and the King of the Dwarf-kind
+    seemed
+  As a thing of that wan land fashioned; but Sigurd glowed and gleamed
+  Amid the shadowless twilight by Greyfell's cloudy flank,
+  As a little space they abided while the latest star-world shrank;
+  On the backward road looked Regin and heard how Sigurd drew
+  The girths of Greyfell's saddle, and the voice of his sword he knew
+  And he feared to look on the Volsung, as thus he fell to speak:
+
+  "I have seen the Dwarf-folk mighty, I have seen the God-folk weak;
+  And now, though our might be minished, yet have we gifts to give.
+  When men desire and conquer, most sweet is their life to live;
+  When men are young and lovely there is many a thing to do,
+  And sweet is their fond desire and the dawn that springs anew."
+
+  "This gift," said the Son of Sigmund, "the Norns shall give me yet,
+  And no blossom slain by the sunshine while the leaves with dew are wet."
+
+  Then Regin turned and beheld him: "Thou shalt deem it hard and strange,
+  When the hand hath encompassed it all, and yet thy life must change.
+  Ah, long were the lives of men-folk, if betwixt the Gods and them
+  Were mighty warders watching mid the earth's and the heaven's hem!
+  Is there any man so mighty he would cast this gift away,--
+  The heart's desire accomplished, and life so long a day,
+  That the dawn should be forgotten ere the even was begun?"
+
+  Then Sigurd laughed and answered: "Fare forth, O glorious sun;
+  Bright end from bright beginning, and the mid-way good to tell,
+  And death, and deeds accomplished, and all remembered well!
+  Shall the day go past and leave us, and we be left with night,
+  To tread the endless circle, and strive in vain to smite?
+  But thou--wilt thou still look backward? thou sayst I know thy thought:
+  Thou hast whetted the sword for the slaying, it shall turn aside for
+    nought.
+  Fear not! with the Gold and the wisdom thou shalt deem thee God alone,
+  And mayst do and undo at pleasure, nor be bound by right nor wrong:
+  And then, if no God I be waxen, I shall be the weak with the strong."
+
+  And his war-gear clanged and tinkled as he leapt to the saddle-stead:
+  And the sun rose up at their backs and the grey world changed to red.
+  And away to the west went Sigurd by the glory wreathed about,
+  But little and black was Regin as a fire that dieth out.
+  Day-long they rode the mountains by the crags exceeding old,
+  And the ash that the first of the Dwarf-kind found dull and quenched
+    and cold.
+  Then the moon in the mid-sky swam, and the stars were fair and pale,
+  And beneath the naked heaven they slept in an ash-grey dale;
+  And again at the dawn-dusk's ending they stood upon their feet,
+  And Sigurd donned his war-gear nor his eyes would Regin meet.
+
+  A clear streak widened in heaven low down above the earth;
+  And above it lay the cloud-flecks, and the sun, anigh its birth,
+  Unseen, their hosts was staining with the very hue of blood,
+  And ruddy by Greyfell's shoulder the Son of Sigmund stood.
+
+  Then spake the Master of Masters: "What is thine hope this morn
+  That thou dightest thee, O Sigurd, to ride this world forlorn?"
+
+  "What needeth hope," said Sigurd, "when the heart of the Volsungs turns
+  To the light of the Glittering Heath, and the house where the Waster
+    burns?
+  I shall slay the Foe of the Gods, as thou badst me a while agone,
+  And then with the Gold and its wisdom shalt thou be left alone."
+
+  "O Child," said the King of the Dwarf-kind, "when the day at last
+    comes round
+  For the dread and the Dusk of the Gods, and the kin of the Wolf is
+    unbound,
+  When thy sword shall hew the fire, and the wildfire beateth thy shield,
+  Shalt thou praise the wages of hope and the Gods that pitched the field?"
+
+  "O Foe of the Gods," said Sigurd, "wouldst thou hide the evil thing,
+  And the curse that is greater than thou, lest death end thy labouring,
+  Lest the night should come upon thee amidst thy toil for nought?
+  It is me, it is me that thou fearest, if indeed I know thy thought;
+  Yea me, who would utterly light the face of all good and ill,
+  If not with the fruitful beams that the summer shall fulfill,
+  Then at least with the world a-blazing, and the glare of the grinded
+    sword."
+
+  And he sprang aloft to the saddle as he spake the latest word,
+  And the Wrath sang loud in the sheath as it ne'er had sung before,
+  And the cloudy flecks were scattered like flames on the heaven's floor,
+  And all was kindled at once, and that trench of the mountains grey
+  Was filled with the living light as the low sun lit the way:
+  But Regin turned from the glory with blinded eyes and dazed,
+  And lo, on the cloudy war-steed how another light there blazed,
+  And a great voice came from amidst it:
+                           "O Regin, in good sooth,
+  I have hearkened not nor heeded the words of thy fear and thy ruth:
+  Thou hast told thy tale and thy longing, and thereto I hearkened well:--
+  Let it lead thee up to heaven, let it lead thee down to hell,
+  The deed shall be done to-morrow: thou shalt have that measureless Gold,
+  And devour the garnered wisdom that blessed thy realm of old,
+  That hath lain unspent and begrudged in the very heart of hate:
+  With the blood and the might of thy brother thine hunger shalt thou sate;
+  And this deed shall be mine and thine; but take heed for what followeth
+    then!
+  Let each do after his kind! I shall do the deeds of men;
+  I shall harvest the field of their sowing, in the bed of their strewing
+    shall sleep;
+  To them shall I give my life-days, to the Gods my glory to keep.
+  But thou with the wealth and the wisdom that the best of the Gods might
+    praise,
+  If thou shalt indeed excel them and become the hope of the days,
+  Then me in turn hast thou conquered, and I shall be in turn
+  Thy fashioned brand of the battle through good and evil to burn,
+  Or the flame that sleeps in thy stithy for the gathered winds to blow,
+  When thou listest to do and undo and thine uttermost cunning to show.
+  But indeed I wot full surely that thou shalt follow thy kind;
+  And for all that cometh after, the Norns shall loose and bind."
+
+  Then his bridle-reins rang sweetly, and the warding-walls of death,
+  And Regin drew up to him, and the Wrath sang loud in the sheath,
+  And forth from that trench in the mountains by the westward way they ride;
+  And little and black goes Regin by the golden Volsung's side;
+  But no more his head is drooping, for he seeth the Elf-king's Gold;
+  The garnered might and the wisdom e'en now his eyes behold.
+
+  So up and up they journeyed, and ever as they went
+  About the cold-slaked forges, o'er many a cloud-swept bent,
+  Betwixt the walls of blackness, by shores of the fishless meres,
+  And the fathomless desert waters, did Regin cast his fears,
+  And wrap him in desire; and all alone he seemed
+  As a God to his heirship wending, and forgotten and undreamed
+  Was all the tale of Sigurd, and the folk he had toiled among,
+  And the Volsungs, Odin's children, and the men-folk fair and young.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+  So on they ride to the westward, and huge were the mountains grown
+  And the floor of heaven was mingled with that tossing world of stone:
+  And they rode till the noon was forgotten and the sun was waxen low,
+  And they tarried not, though he perished, and the world grew dark below.
+  Then they rode a mighty desert, a glimmering place and wide,
+  And into a narrow pass high-walled on either side
+  By the blackness of the mountains, and barred aback and in face
+  By the empty night of the shadow; a windless silent place:
+  But the white moon shone o'erhead mid the small sharp stars and pale,
+  And each as a man alone they rode on the highway of bale.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+  So ever they wended upward, and the midnight hour was o'er,
+  And the stars grew pale and paler, and failed from the heaven's floor,
+  And the moon was a long while dead, but there was the promise of day,
+  No change came over the darkness, no streak of the dawning grey;
+  No sound of the wind's uprising adown the night there ran:
+  It was blind as the Gaping Gulf ere the first of the worlds began.
+
+  Then athwart and athwart rode Sigurd and sought the walls of the pass,
+  But found no wall before him; and the road rang hard as brass
+  Beneath the hoofs of Greyfell, as up and up he trod:
+  --Was it the daylight of Hell, or the night of the doorways of God?
+
+  But lo, at the last a glimmer, and a light from the west there came,
+  And another and another, like points of far-off flame;
+  And they grew and brightened and gathered; and whiles together they ran
+  Like the moonwake over the waters; and whiles they were scant and wan,
+  Some greater and some lesser, like the boats of fishers laid
+  About the sea of midnight; and a dusky dawn they made,
+  A faint and glimmering twilight: So Sigurd strains his eyes,
+  And he sees how a land deserted all round about him lies
+  More changeless than mid-ocean, as fruitless as its floor:
+  Then the heart leaps up within him, for he knows that his journey is o'er,
+  And there he draweth bridle on the first of the Glittering Heath:
+  And the Wrath is waxen merry and sings in the golden sheath
+  As he leaps adown from Greyfell, and stands upon his feet,
+  And wends his ways through the twilight the Foe of the Gods to meet.
+
+
+    _Sigurd slayeth Fafnir the Serpent_.
+
+  Nought Sigurd seeth of Regin, and nought he heeds of him,
+  As in watchful might and glory he strides the desert dim,
+  And behind him paceth Greyfell; but he deems the time o'erlong
+  Till he meet the great gold-warden, the over-lord of wrong.
+
+  So he wendeth midst the silence through the measureless desert place,
+  And beholds the countless glitter with wise and steadfast face,
+  Till him-seems in a little season that the flames grow somewhat wan,
+  And a grey thing glimmers before him, and becomes a mighty man,
+  One-eyed and ancient-seeming, in cloud-grey raiment clad;
+  A friendly man and glorious, and of visage smiling-glad:
+  Then content in Sigurd groweth because of his majesty,
+  And he heareth him speak in the desert as the wind of the winter sea:
+
+  "Hail Sigurd! Give me thy greeting ere thy ways alone thou wend!"
+
+  Said Sigurd: "Hail! I greet thee, my friend and my fathers' friend."
+
+  "Now whither away," said the elder, "with the Steed and the ancient
+    Sword?"
+
+  "To the greedy house," said Sigurd, "and the King of the Heavy Hoard."
+
+  "Wilt thou smite, O Sigurd, Sigurd?" said the ancient mighty-one.
+
+  "Yea, yea, I shall smite," said the Volsung, "save the Gods have slain
+    the sun."
+
+  "What wise wilt thou smite," said the elder, "lest the dark devour thy
+    day?"
+
+  "Thou hast praised the sword," said the child, "and the sword shall find
+    a way."
+
+  "Be learned of me," said the Wise-one, "for I was the first of thy folk."
+
+  Said the child: "I shall do thy bidding, and for thee shall I strike the
+    stroke."
+
+  Spake the Wise-one: "Thus shalt thou do when thou wendest hence alone:
+  Thou shalt find a path in the desert, and a road in the world of stone;
+  It is smooth and deep and hollow, but the rain hath riven it not,
+  And the wild wind hath not worn it, for it is but Fafnir's slot,
+  Whereby he wends to the water and the fathomless pool of old,
+  When his heart in the dawn is weary, and he loathes the Ancient Gold:
+  There think of the great and the fathers, and bare the whetted Wrath,
+  And dig a pit in the highway, and a grave in the Serpent's path:
+  Lie thou therein, O Sigurd, and thine hope from the glooming hide,
+  And be as the dead for a season, and the living light abide!
+  And so shall thine heart avail thee, and thy mighty fateful hand,
+  And the Light that lay in the Branstock, the well beloved brand."
+
+  Said the child: "I shall do thy bidding, and for thee shall I strike the
+    stroke;
+  For I love thee, friend of my fathers, Wise Heart of the holy folk."
+
+  So spake the Son of Sigmund, and beheld no man anear,
+  And again was the night the midnight, and the twinkling flames shone clear
+  In the hush of the Glittering Heath; and alone went Sigmund's son
+  Till he came to the road of Fafnir, and the highway worn by one,
+  By the drift of the rain unfurrowed, by the windy years unrent,
+  And forth from the dark it came, and into the dark it went.
+
+  Great then was the heart of Sigurd, for there in the midmost he stayed,
+  And thought of the ancient fathers, and bared the bright blue blade,
+  That shone as a fleck of the day-light, and the night was all around.
+  Fair then was the Son of Sigmund as he toiled and laboured the ground;
+  Great, mighty he was in his working, and the Glittering Heath he clave,
+  And the sword shone blue before him as he dug the pit and the grave:
+  There he hid his hope from the night-tide and lay like one of the dead,
+  And wise and wary he bided; and the heavens hung over his head.
+
+  Now the night wanes over Sigurd, and the ruddy rings he sees,
+  And his war-gear's fair adornment, and the God-folk's images;
+  But a voice in the desert ariseth, a sound in the waste has birth,
+  A changing tinkle and clatter, as of gold dragged over the earth:
+  O'er Sigurd widens the day-light, and the sound is drawing close,
+  And speedier than the trample of speedy feet it goes;
+  But ever deemeth Sigurd that the sun brings back the day,
+  For the grave grows lighter and lighter and heaven o'erhead is grey.
+
+  But now, how the rattling waxeth till he may not heed nor hark!
+  And the day and the heavens are hidden, and o'er Sigurd rolls the dark,
+  As the flood of a pitchy river, and heavy-thick is the air
+  With the venom of hate long hoarded, and lies once fashioned fair:
+  Then a wan face comes from the darkness, and is wrought in manlike wise,
+  And the lips are writhed with laughter and bleared are the blinded eyes;
+  And it wandereth hither and thither, and searcheth through the grave
+  And departeth, leaving nothing, save the dark, rolled wave on wave
+  O'er the golden head of Sigurd and the edges of the sword,
+  And the world weighs heavy on Sigurd, and the weary curse of the Hoard:
+  Him-seemed the grave grew straiter, and his hope of life grew chill,
+  And his heart by the Worm was enfolded, and the bonds of the Ancient Ill.
+
+  Then was Sigurd stirred by his glory, and he strove with the swaddling
+    of Death;
+  He turned in the pit on the highway, and the grave of the Glittering
+    Heath;
+  He laughed and smote with the laughter and thrust up over his head,
+  And smote the venom asunder, and clave the heart of Dread;
+  Then he leapt from the pit and the grave, and the rushing river of blood,
+  And fulfilled with the joy of the War-God on the face of earth he stood
+  With red sword high uplifted, with wrathful glittering eyes;
+  And he laughed at the heavens above him for he saw the sun arise,
+  And Sigurd gleamed on the desert, and shone in the new-born light,
+  And the wind in his raiment wavered, and all the world was bright.
+
+  But there was the ancient Fafnir, and the Face of Terror lay
+  On the huddled folds of the Serpent, that were black and ashen-grey
+  In the desert lit by the sun; and those twain looked each on each,
+  And forth from the Face of Terror went a sound of dreadful speech:
+
+  "Child, child, who art thou that hast smitten? bright child, of whence
+    is thy birth?"
+
+  "I am called the Wild-thing Glorious, and alone I wend on the earth."
+
+  "Fierce child, and who was thy father?--Thou hast cleft the heart of the
+    Foe!"
+
+  "Am I like to the sons of men-folk, that my father I should know?"
+
+  "Wert thou born of a nameless wonder? shall the lies to my death-day
+    cling?"
+
+  "How lieth Sigurd the Volsung, and the Son of Sigmund the King?"
+
+  "O bitter father of Sigurd!--thou hast cleft mine heart atwain!"
+
+  "I arose, and I wondered and wended, and I smote, and I smote not in
+    vain."
+
+  "What master hath taught thee of murder?--Thou hast wasted Fafnir's day."
+
+  "I, Sigurd, knew and desired, and the bright sword learned the way."
+
+  "Thee, thee shall the rattling Gold and the red rings bring to the bane."
+
+  "Yet mine hand shall cast them abroad, and the earth shall gather again."
+
+  "I see thee great in thine anger, and the Norns thou heedest not."
+
+  "O Fafnir, speak of the Norns and the wisdom unforgot!"
+
+  "Let the death-doomed flee from the ocean, him the wind and the weather
+    shall drown."
+
+  "O Fafnir, tell of the Norns ere thy life thou layest adown!"
+
+  "O manifold is their kindred, and who shall tell them all?
+  There are they that rule o'er men-folk and the stars that rise and fall:
+  --I knew of the folk of the Dwarfs, and I knew their Norns of old;
+  And I fought, and I fell in the morning, and I die afar from the gold:
+  --I have seen the Gods of heaven, and their Norns withal I know:
+  They love and withhold their helping, they hate and refrain the blow;
+  They curse and they may not sunder, they bless and they shall not blend;
+  They have fashioned the good and the evil; they abide the change and the
+    end."
+
+  "O Fafnir, what of the Isle, and what hast thou known of its name,
+  Where the Gods shall mingle edges with Surt and the Sons of Flame?"
+
+  "O child, O Strong Compeller? Unshapen is its hight;
+  There the fallow blades shall be shaken and the Dark and the Day shall
+    smite,
+  When the Bridge of the Gods is broken, and their white steeds swim the
+    sea,
+  And the uttermost field is stricken, last strife of thee and me."
+
+  "What then shall endure, O Fafnir, the tale of the battle to tell?"
+
+  "I am blind, O Strong Compeller, in the bonds of Death and Hell.
+  But thee shall the rattling Gold and the red rings bring unto bane."
+
+  "Yet the rings mine hand shall scatter, and the earth shall gather again."
+
+  "Woe, woe! in the days passed over I bore the Helm of Dread,
+  I reared the Face of Terror, and the hoarded hate of the Dead:
+  I overcame and was mighty; I was wise and cherished my heart
+  In the waste where no man wandered, and the high house builded apart:
+  Till I met thine hand, O Sigurd, and thy might ordained from of old;
+  And I fought and fell in the morning, and I die far off from the Gold."
+
+  Then Sigurd leaned on his sword, and a dreadful voice went by
+  Like the wail of a God departing and the War-God's misery;
+  And strong words of ancient wisdom went by on the desert wind,
+  The words that mar and fashion, the words that loose and bind;
+  And sounds of a strange lamenting, and such strange things bewailed,
+  That words to tell their meaning the tongue of man hath failed.
+
+  Then all sank into silence, and the Son of Sigmund stood
+  On the torn and furrowed desert by the pool of Fafnir's blood,
+  And the Serpent lay before him, dead, chilly, dull, and grey;
+  And over the Glittering Heath fair shone the sun and the day,
+  And a light wind followed the sun and breathed o'er the fateful place,
+  As fresh as it furrows the sea-plain or bows the acres' face.
+
+
+    _Sigurd slayeth Regin the Master of Masters on the Glittering Heath_.
+
+  There standeth Sigurd the Volsung, and leaneth on his sword,
+  And beside him now is Greyfell and looks on his golden lord,
+  And the world is awake and living; and whither now shall they wend,
+  Who have come to the Glittering Heath, and wrought that deed to its end?
+  For hither comes Regin the Master from the skirts of the field of death,
+  And he shadeth his eyes from the sunlight as afoot he goeth and saith:
+  "Ah, let me live for a while! for a while and all shall be well,
+  When passed is the house of murder and I creep from the prison of hell."
+
+  Afoot he went o'er the desert, and he came unto Sigurd and stared
+  At the golden gear of the man, and the Wrath yet bloody and bared,
+  And the light locks raised by the wind, and the eyes beginning to smile,
+  And the lovely lips of the Volsung, and the brow that knew no guile;
+  And he murmured under his breath while his eyes grew white with wrath:
+
+  "O who art thou, and wherefore, and why art thou in the path?"
+  Then he turned to the ash-grey Serpent, and grovelled low on the ground,
+  And he drank of that pool of the blood where the stones of the wild were
+    drowned,
+  And long he lapped as a dog; but when he arose again,
+  Lo, a flock of the mountain-eagles that drew to the feastful plain;
+  And he turned and looked on Sigurd, as bright in the sun he stood,
+  A stripling fair and slender, and wiped the Wrath of the blood.
+
+  But Regin cried: "O Dwarf-kind, O many-shifting folk,
+  O shapes of might and wonder, am I too freed from the yoke,
+  That binds my soul to my body a withered thing forlorn,
+  While the short-lived fools of man-folk so fair and oft are born?
+  Now swift in the air shall I be, and young in the concourse of kings,
+  If my heart shall come to desire the gain of earthly things."
+
+  And he looked and saw how Sigurd was sheathing the Flame of War,
+  And the eagles screamed in the wind, but their voice came faint from afar:
+  Then he scowled, and crouched and darkened, and came to Sigurd and spake:
+  "O child, thou hast slain my brother, and the Wrath is alive and awake."
+
+  "Thou sayest sooth," said Sigurd, "thy deed and mine is done:
+  But now our ways shall sunder, for here, meseemeth, the sun
+  Hath but little of deeds to do, and no love to win aback."
+
+  Then Regin crouched before him, and he spake: "Fare on to the wrack!
+  Fare on to the murder of men, and the deeds of thy kindred of old!
+  And surely of thee as of them shall the tale be speedily told.
+  Thou hast slain thy Master's brother, and what wouldst thou say thereto,
+  Were the judges met for the judging and the doom-ring hallowed due?"
+
+  Then Sigurd spake as aforetime: "Thy deed and mine it was,
+  And now our ways shall sunder, and into the world will I pass."
+
+  But Regin darkened before him, and exceeding grim was he grown,
+  And he spake: "Thou hast slain my brother, and wherewith wilt thou atone?"
+
+  "Stand up, O Master," said Sigurd, "O Singer of ancient days,
+  And take the wealth I have won thee, ere we wend on the sundering ways.
+  I have toiled and thou hast desired, and the Treasure is surely anear,
+  And thou hast wisdom to find it, and I have slain thy fear."
+
+  But Regin crouched and darkened: "Thou hast slain my brother," he said.
+
+  "Take thou the Gold," quoth Sigurd, "for the ransom of my head!"
+
+  Then Regin crouched and darkened, and over the earth he hung;
+  And he said: "Thou hast slain my brother, and the Gods are yet but young."
+
+  Bright Sigurd towered above him, and the Wrath cried out in the sheath,
+  And Regin writhed against it as the adder turns on death;
+  And he spake: "Thou hast slain my brother, and to-day shalt thou be my
+    thrall:
+  Yea a King shall be my cook-boy and this heath my cooking-hall."
+
+  Then he crept to the ash-grey coils where the life of his brother had
+    lain,
+  And he drew a glaive from his side and smote the smitten and slain,
+  And tore the heart from Fafnir, while the eagles cried o'erhead,
+  And sharp and shrill was their voice o'er the entrails of the dead.
+
+  Then Regin spake to Sigurd: "Of this slaying wilt thou be free?
+  Then gather thou fire together and roast the heart for me,
+  That I may eat it and live, and be thy master and more;
+  For therein was might and wisdom, and the grudged and hoarded lore:--
+  --Or else, depart on thy ways afraid from the Glittering Heath."
+
+  Then he fell abackward and slept, nor set his sword in the sheath,
+  But his hand was red on the hilts and blue were the edges bared,
+  Ash-grey was his visage waxen, and with open eyes he stared
+  On the height of heaven above him, and a fearful thing he seemed,
+  As his soul went wide in the world, and of rule and kingship he dreamed.
+
+  But Sigurd took the Heart, and wood on the waste he found,
+  The wood that grew and died, as it crept on the niggard ground,
+  And grew and died again, and lay like whitened bones;
+  And the ernes cried over his head, as he builded his hearth of stones,
+  And kindled the fire for cooking, and sat and sang o'er the roast
+  The song of his fathers of old, and the Wolflings' gathering host:
+  So there on the Glittering Heath rose up the little flame,
+  And the dry sticks crackled amidst it, and alow the eagles came,
+  And seven they were by tale, and they pitched all round about
+  The cooking-fire of Sigurd, and sent their song-speech out:
+  But nought he knoweth its wisdom, or the word that they would speak:
+  And hot grew the Heart of Fafnir and sang amid the reek.
+
+  Then Sigurd looketh on Regin, and he deemeth it overlong
+  That he dighteth the dear-bought morsel, and the might for the Master
+    of wrong,
+  So he reacheth his hand to the roast to see if the cooking be o'er;
+  But the blood and the fat seethed from it and scalded his finger sore,
+  And he set his hand to his mouth to quench the fleshly smart,
+  And he tasted the flesh of the Serpent and the blood of Fafnir's Heart:
+  Then there came a change upon him, for the speech of fowl he knew,
+  And wise in the ways of the beast-kind as the Dwarfs of old he grew;
+  And he knitted his brows and hearkened, and wrath in his heart arose;
+  For he felt beset of evil in a world of many foes.
+  But the hilt of the Wrath he handled, and Regin's heart he saw,
+  And how that the Foe of the Gods the net of death would draw;
+  And his bright eyes flashed and sparkled, and his mouth grew set and
+    stern
+  As he hearkened the voice of the eagles, and their song began to learn.
+
+  For the first cried out in the desert: "O mighty Sigmund's son,
+  How long wilt thou sit and tarry now the dear-bought roast is done?"
+
+  And the second: "Volsung, arise! for the horns blow up to the hall,
+  And dight are the purple hangings, and the King to the feasting should
+    fall."
+
+  And the third: "How great is the feast if the eater eat aright
+  The Heart of the wisdom of old and the after-world's delight!"
+
+  And the fourth: "Yea what of Regin? shall he scatter wrack o'er the world?
+  Shall the father be slain by the son, and the brother 'gainst brother be
+    hurled?"
+
+  And the fifth: "He hath taught a stripling the gifts of a God to give:
+  He hath reared up a King for the slaying, that he alone might live."
+
+  And the sixth: "He shall waken mighty as a God that scorneth a truth;
+  He hath drunk of the blood of the Serpent, and drowned all hope and ruth."
+
+  And the seventh: "Arise, O Sigurd, lest the hour be overlate!
+  For the sun in the mid-noon shineth, and swift is the hand of Fate:
+  Arise! lest the world run backward and the blind heart have its will,
+  And once again be tangled the sundered good and ill;
+  Lest love and hatred perish, lest the world forget its tale,
+  And the Gods sit deedless, dreaming, in the high-walled heavenly vale."
+
+  Then swift ariseth Sigurd, and the Wrath in his hand is bare,
+  And he looketh, and Regin sleepeth, and his eyes wide-open glare;
+  But his lips smile false in his dreaming, and his hand is on the sword;
+  For he dreams himself the Master and the new world's fashioning-lord.
+  And his dream hath forgotten Sigurd, and the King's life lies in the pit;
+  He is nought; Death gnaweth upon him, while the Dwarfs in mastery sit.
+
+  But lo, how the eyes of Sigurd the heart of the guileful behold,
+  And great is Allfather Odin, and upriseth the Curse of the Gold,
+  And the Branstock bloometh to heaven from the ancient wondrous root;
+  The summer hath shone on its blossoms, and Sigurd's Wrath is the fruit:
+  Dread then he cried in the desert: "Guile-master, lo thy deed!
+  Hast thou nurst my life for destruction, and my death to serve thy need?
+  Hast thou kept me here for the net and the death that tame things die?
+  Hast thou feared me overmuch, thou Foe of the Gods on high?
+  Lest the sword thine hand was wielding should turn about and cleave
+  The tangled web of nothing thou hadst wearied thyself to weave.
+  Lo here the sword and the stroke! judge the Norns betwixt us twain!
+  But for me, I will live and die not, nor shall all my hope be vain."
+  Then his second stroke struck Sigurd, for the Wrath flashed thin and white,
+  And 'twixt head and trunk of Regin fierce ran the fateful light;
+  And there lay brother by brother a faded thing and wan.
+  But Sigurd cried in the desert: "So far have I wended on!
+  Dead are the foes of God-home that would blend the good and the ill;
+  And the World shall yet be famous, and the Gods shall have their will.
+  Nor shall I be dead and forgotten, while the earth grows worse and worse,
+  With the blind heart king o'er the people, and binding curse with curse."
+
+
+    _How Sigurd took to him the Treasure of the Elf Andvari._
+
+  Now Sigurd eats of the heart that once in the Dwarf-king lay,
+  The hoard of the wisdom begrudged, the might of the earlier day.
+  Then wise of heart was he waxen, but longing in him grew
+  To sow the seed he had gotten, and till the field he knew.
+  So he leapeth aback of Greyfell, and rideth the desert bare,
+  And the hollow slot of Fafnir, that led to the Serpent's lair.
+  Then long he rode adown it, and the ernes flew overhead,
+  And tidings great and glorious of that Treasure of old they said.
+  So far o'er the waste he wended, and when the night was come
+  He saw the earth-old dwelling, the dread Gold-wallower's home:
+  On the skirts of the Heath it was builded by a tumbled stony bent;
+  High went that house to the heavens, down 'neath the earth it went,
+  Of unwrought iron fashioned for the heart of a greedy king:
+  'Twas a mountain, blind without, and within was its plenishing
+  But the Hoard of Andvari the ancient, and the sleeping Curse unseen,
+  The Gold of the Gods that spared not and the greedy that have been.
+  Through the door strode Sigurd the Volsung, and the grey moon and the
+    sword
+  Fell in on the tawny gold-heaps of the ancient hapless Hoard:
+  Gold gear of hosts unburied, and the coin of cities dead,
+  Great spoil of the ages of battle, lay there on the Serpent's bed:
+  Huge blocks from mid-earth quarried, where none but the Dwarfs have mined,
+  Wide sands of the golden rivers no foot of man may find
+  Lay 'neath the spoils of the mighty and the ruddy rings of yore:
+  But amidst was the Helm of Aweing that the Fear of earth-folk bore,
+  And there gleamed a wonder beside it, the Hauberk all of gold,
+  Whose like is not in the heavens nor has earth of its fellow told:
+  There Sigurd seeth moreover Andvari's Ring of Gain,
+  The hope of Loki's finger, the Ransom's utmost grain;
+  For it shone on the midmost gold-heap like the first star set in the sky
+  In the yellow space of even when moon-rise draweth anigh.
+  Then laughed the Son of Sigmund, and stooped to the golden land,
+  And gathered that first of the harvest and set it on his hand;
+  And he did on the Helm of Aweing, and the Hauberk all of gold,
+  Whose like is not in the heavens nor has earth of its fellow told:
+  Then he praised the day of the Volsungs amid the yellow light,
+  And he set his hand to the labour and put forth his kingly might;
+  He dragged forth gold to the moon, on the desert's face he laid
+  The innermost earth's adornment, and rings for the nameless made;
+  He toiled and loaded Greyfell, and the cloudy war-steed shone
+  And the gear of Sigurd rattled in the flood of moonlight wan;
+  There he toiled and loaded Greyfell, and the Volsung's armour rang
+  Mid the yellow bed of the Serpent: but without the eagles sang:
+
+  "Bind the red rings, O Sigurd! let the gold shine free and clear!
+  For what hath the Son of the Volsungs the ancient Curse to fear?"
+
+  "Bind the red rings, O Sigurd! for thy tale is well begun,
+  And the world shall be good and gladdened by the Gold lit up by the sun."
+
+  "Bind the red rings, O Sigurd, and gladden all thine heart!
+  For the world shall make thee merry ere thou and she depart."
+
+  "Bind the red rings, O Sigurd! for the ways go green below,
+  Go green to the dwelling of Kings, and the halls that the Queen-folk
+    know."
+
+  "Bind the red rings, O Sigurd! for what is there bides by the way,
+  Save the joy of folk to awaken, and the dawn of the merry day?"
+
+  "Bind the red rings, O Sigurd! for the strife awaits thine hand,
+  And a plenteous war-field's reaping, and the praise of many a land."
+
+  "Bind the red rings, O Sigurd! But how shall store-house hold
+  That glory of thy winning and the tidings to be told?"
+
+  Now the moon was dead, and the star-worlds were great on the heavenly
+    plain,
+  When the steed was fully laden; then Sigurd taketh the rein
+  And turns to the ruined rock-wall that the lair was built beneath,
+  For there he deemed was the gate and the door of the Glittering Heath,
+  But not a whit moved Greyfell for aught that the King might do;
+  Then Sigurd pondered a while, till the heart of the beast he knew,
+  And clad in all his war-gear he leaped to the saddle-stead,
+  And with pride and mirth neighed Greyfell and tossed aloft his head,
+  And sprang unspurred o'er the waste, and light and swift he went,
+  And breasted the broken rampart, the stony tumbled bent;
+  And over the brow he clomb, and there beyond was the world,
+  A place of many mountains and great crags together hurled.
+  So down to the west he wendeth, and goeth swift and light,
+  And the stars are beginning to wane, and the day is mingled with night;
+  For full fain was the sun to arise and look on the Gold set free,
+  And the Dwarf-wrought rings of the Treasure and the gifts from the floor
+    of the sea.
+
+
+    _How Sigurd awoke Brynhild upon Hindfell._
+
+  By long roads rideth Sigurd amidst that world of stone,
+  And somewhat south he turneth; for he would not be alone,
+  But longs for the dwellings of man-folk, and the kingly people's speech,
+  And the days of the glee and the joyance, where men laugh each to each.
+  But still the desert endureth, and afar must Greyfell fare
+  From the wrack of the Glittering Heath, and Fafnir's golden lair.
+  Long Sigurd rideth the waste, when, lo, on a morning of day
+  From out of the tangled crag-walls, amidst the cloud-land grey
+  Comes up a mighty mountain, and it is as though there burns
+  A torch amidst of its cloud-wreath; so thither Sigurd turns,
+  For he deems indeed from its topmost to look on the best of the earth;
+  And Greyfell neigheth beneath him, and his heart is full of mirth.
+
+  So he rideth higher and higher, and the light grows great and strange,
+  And forth from the clouds it flickers, till at noon they gather and
+    change,
+  And settle thick on the mountain, and hide its head from sight;
+  But the winds in a while are awakened, and day bettereth ere the night,
+  And, lifted a measureless mass o'er the desert crag-walls high,
+  Cloudless the mountain riseth against the sunset sky,
+  The sea of the sun grown golden, as it ebbs from the day's desire;
+  And the light that afar was a torch is grown a river of fire,
+  And the mountain is black above it, and below is it dark and dun;
+  And there is the head of Hindfell as an island in the sun.
+
+  Night falls, but yet rides Sigurd, and hath no thought of rest,
+  For he longs to climb that rock-world and behold the earth at its best;
+  But now mid the maze of the foot-hills he seeth the light no more,
+  And the stars are lovely and gleaming on the lightless heavenly floor.
+  So up and up he wendeth till the night is wearing thin;
+  And he rideth a rift of the mountain, and all is dark therein,
+  Till the stars are dimmed by dawning and the wakening world is cold;
+  Then afar in the upper rock-wall a breach doth he behold,
+  And a flood of light poured inward the doubtful dawning blinds:
+  So swift he rideth thither and the mouth of the breach he finds,
+  And sitteth awhile on Greyfell on the marvellous thing to gaze:
+  For lo, the side of Hindfell enwrapped by the fervent blaze,
+  And nought 'twixt earth and heaven save a world of flickering flame,
+  And a hurrying shifting tangle, where the dark rents went and came.
+
+  Great groweth the heart of Sigurd with uttermost desire,
+  And he crieth kind to Greyfell, and they hasten up, and nigher,
+  Till he draweth rein in the dawning on the face of Hindfell's steep:
+  But who shall heed the dawning where the tongues of that wildfire leap?
+  For they weave a wavering wall, that driveth over the heaven
+  The wind that is born within it; nor ever aside is it driven
+  By the mightiest wind of the waste, and the rain-flood amidst it is
+    nought;
+  And no wayfarer's door and no window the hand of its builder hath wrought.
+  But thereon is the Volsung smiling as its breath uplifteth his hair,
+  And his eyes shine bright with its image, and his mail gleams white and
+    fair,
+  And his war-helm pictures the heavens and the waning stars behind:
+  But his neck is Greyfell stretching to snuff at the flame-wall blind,
+  And his cloudy flank upheaveth, and tinkleth the knitted mail,
+  And the gold of the uttermost waters is waxen wan and pale.
+
+  Now Sigurd turns in his saddle, and the hilt of the Wrath he shifts,
+  And draws a girth the tighter; then the gathered reins he lifts,
+  And crieth aloud to Greyfell, and rides at the wildfire's heart;
+  But the white wall wavers before him and the flame-flood rusheth apart,
+  And high o'er his head it riseth, and wide and wild is its roar
+  As it beareth the mighty tidings to the very heavenly floor:
+  But he rideth through its roaring as the warrior rides the rye,
+  When it bows with the wind of the summer and the hid spears draw anigh;
+  The white flame licks his raiment and sweeps through Greyfell's mane,
+  And bathes both hands of Sigurd and the hilts of Fafnir's bane,
+  And winds about his war-helm and mingles with his hair,
+  But nought his raiment dusketh or dims his glittering gear;
+  Then it fails and fades and darkens till all seems left behind,
+  And dawn and the blaze is swallowed in mid-mirk stark and blind.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+  But forth a little further and a little further on
+  And all is calm about him, and he sees the scorched earth wan
+  Beneath a glimmering twilight, and he turns his conquering eyes,
+  And a ring of pale slaked ashes on the side of Hindfell lies;
+  And the world of the waste is beyond it; and all is hushed and grey,
+  And the new-risen moon is a-paleing, and the stars grow faint with day.
+  Then Sigurd looked before him and a Shield-burg there he saw,
+  A wall of the tiles of Odin wrought clear without a flaw,
+  The gold by the silver gleaming, and the ruddy by the white;
+  And the blazonings of their glory were done upon them bright,
+  As of dear things wrought for the war-lords new come to Odin's hall.
+  Piled high aloft to the heavens uprose that battle-wall,
+  And far o'er the topmost shield-rim for a banner of fame there hung
+  A glorious golden buckler; and against the staff it rung
+  As the earliest wind of dawning uprose on Hindfell's face
+  And the light from the yellowing east beamed soft on the shielded place.
+
+  But the Wrath cried out in answer as Sigurd leapt adown
+  To the wasted soil of the desert by that rampart of renown;
+  He looked but little beneath it, and the dwelling of God it seemed,
+  As against its gleaming silence the eager Sigurd gleamed:
+  He draweth not sword from scabbard, as the wall he wendeth around,
+  And it is but the wind and Sigurd that wakeneth any sound:
+  But, lo, to the gate he cometh, and the doors are open wide,
+  And no warder the way withstandeth, and no earls by the threshold abide;
+  So he stands awhile and marvels; then the baleful light of the Wrath
+  Gleams bare in his ready hand as he wendeth the inward path:
+  For he doubteth some guile of the Gods, or perchance some Dwarf-king's
+    snare,
+  Or a mock of the Giant people that shall fade in the morning air:
+  But he getteth him in and gazeth; and a wall doth he behold,
+  And the ruddy set by the white, and the silver by the gold;
+  But within the garth that it girdeth no work of man is set,
+  But the utmost head of Hindfell ariseth higher yet;
+  And below in the very midmost is a Giant-fashioned mound,
+  Piled high as the rims of the Shield-burg above the level ground;
+  And there, on that mound of the Giants, o'er the wilderness forlorn,
+  A pale grey image lieth, and gleameth in the morn.
+
+  So there was Sigurd alone; and he went from the shielded door,
+  And aloft in the desert of wonder the Light of the Branstock he bore;
+  And he set his face to the earth-mound, and beheld the image wan,
+  And the dawn was growing about it; and, lo, the shape of a man
+  Set forth to the eyeless desert on the tower-top of the world,
+  High over the cloud-wrought castle whence the windy bolts are hurled.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+  Now he comes to the mound and climbs it, and will see if the man be dead;
+  Some King of the days forgotten laid there with crowned head,
+  Or the frame of a God, it may be, that in heaven hath changed his life,
+  Or some glorious heart beloved, God-rapt from the earthly strife:
+  Now over the body he standeth, and seeth it shapen fair,
+  And clad from head to foot-sole in pale grey-glittering gear,
+  In a hauberk wrought as straitly as though to the flesh it were grown:
+  But a great helm hideth the head and is girt with a glittering crown.
+
+  So thereby he stoopeth and kneeleth, for he deems it were good indeed
+  If the breath of life abide there and the speech to help at need;
+  And as sweet as the summer wind from a garden under the sun
+  Cometh forth on the topmost Hindfell the breath of that sleeping-one.
+  Then he saith he will look on the face, if it bear him love or hate,
+  Or the bonds for his life's constraining, or the sundering doom of fate.
+  So he draweth the helm from the head, and, lo, the brow snow-white,
+  And the smooth unfurrowed cheeks, and the wise lips breathing light;
+  And the face of a woman it is, and the fairest that ever was born,
+  Shown forth to the empty heavens and the desert world forlorn:
+  But he looketh, and loveth her sore, and he longeth her spirit to move,
+  And awaken her heart to the world, that she may behold him and love.
+  And he toucheth her breast and her hands, and he loveth her passing sore;
+  And he saith: "Awake! I am Sigurd;" but she moveth never the more.
+
+  Then he looked on his bare bright blade, and he said: "Thou--what wilt
+    thou do?
+  For indeed as I came by the war-garth thy voice of desire I knew."
+  Bright burnt the pale blue edges for the sunrise drew anear,
+  And the rims of the Shield-burg glittered, and the east was exceeding
+    clear:
+  So the eager edges he setteth to the Dwarf-wrought battle-coat
+  Where the hammered ring-knit collar constraineth the woman's throat;
+  But the sharp Wrath biteth and rendeth, and before it fail the rings,
+  And, lo, the gleam of the linen, and the light of golden things:
+  Then he driveth the blue steel onward, and through the skirt, and out,
+  Till nought but the rippling linen is wrapping her about;
+  Then he deems her breath comes quicker and her breast begins to heave,
+  So he turns about the War-Flame and rends down either sleeve,
+  Till her arms lie white in her raiment, and a river of sun-bright hair
+  Flows free o'er bosom and shoulder and floods the desert bare.
+
+  Then a flush cometh over her visage and a sigh upheaveth her breast,
+  And her eyelids quiver and open, and she wakeneth into rest;
+  Wide-eyed on the dawning she gazeth, too glad to change or smile,
+  And but little moveth her body, nor speaketh she yet for a while;
+  And yet kneels Sigurd moveless her wakening speech to heed,
+  While soft the waves of the daylight o'er the starless heavens speed,
+  And the gleaming rims of the Shield-burg yet bright and brighter grow,
+  And the thin moon hangeth her horns dead-white in the golden glow.
+  Then she turned and gazed on Sigurd, and her eyes met the Volsung's eyes.
+  And mighty and measureless now did the tide of his love arise,
+  For their longing had met and mingled, and he knew of her heart that she
+    loved,
+  As she spake unto nothing but him and her lips with the speech-flood
+    moved:
+
+  "O, what is the thing so mighty that my weary sleep hath torn,
+  And rent the fallow bondage, and the wan woe over-worn?"
+
+  He said: "The hand of Sigurd and the Sword of Sigmund's son,
+  And the heart that the Volsungs fashioned this deed for thee have done."
+
+  But she said: "Where then is Odin that laid me here alow?
+  Long lasteth the grief of the world, and man-folk's tangled woe!"
+
+  "He dwelleth above," said Sigurd, "but I on the earth abide,
+  And I came from the Glittering Heath the waves of thy fire to ride."
+
+  But therewith the sun rose upward and lightened all the earth,
+  And the light flashed up to the heavens from the rims of the glorious
+    girth;
+  But they twain arose together, and with both her palms outspread,
+  And bathed in the light returning, she cried aloud and said:
+
+  "All hail O Day and thy Sons, and thy kin of the coloured things!
+  Hail, following Night, and thy Daughter that leadeth thy wavering wings!
+  Look down with unangry eyes on us to-day alive,
+  And give us the hearts victorious, and the gain for which we strive!
+  All hail, ye Lords of God-home, and ye Queens of the House of Gold!
+  Hail thou dear Earth that bearest, and thou Wealth of field and fold!
+  Give us, your noble children, the glory of wisdom and speech,
+  And the hearts and the hands of healing, and the mouths and hands that
+    teach!"
+
+  Then they turned and were knit together; and oft and o'er again
+  They craved, and kissed rejoicing, and their hearts were full and fain.
+
+  Then Sigurd looketh upon her, and the words from his heart arise:
+  "Thou art the fairest of earth, and the wisest of the wise;
+  O who art thou that lovest? I am Sigurd, e'en as I told;
+  I have slain the Foe of the Gods, and gotten the Ancient Gold;
+  And great were the gain of thy love, and the gift of mine earthly days,
+  If we twain should never sunder as we wend on the changing ways.
+  O who art thou that lovest, thou fairest of all things born?
+  And what meaneth thy sleep and thy slumber in the wilderness forlorn?"
+
+  She said: "I am she that loveth: I was born of the earthly folk,
+  But of old Allfather took me from the Kings and their wedding yoke:
+  And he called me the Victory-Wafter, and I went and came as he would,
+  And I chose the slain for his war-host, and the days were glorious and
+    good,
+  Till the thoughts of my heart overcame me, and the pride of my wisdom
+    and speech,
+  And I scorned the earth-folk's Framer and the Lord of the world I must
+    teach:
+  For the death-doomed I caught from the sword, and the fated life I slew,
+  And I deemed that my deeds were goodly, and that long I should do and
+    undo.
+  But Allfather came against me and the God in his wrath arose;
+  And he cried: 'Thou hast thought in thy folly that the Gods have friends
+    and foes,
+  That they wake, and the world wends onward, that they sleep, and the
+    world slips back,
+  That they laugh, and the world's weal waxeth, that they frown and
+    fashion the wrack:
+  Thou hast cast up the curse against me; it shall fall aback on thine
+    head;
+  Go back to the sons of repentance, with the children of sorrow wed!
+  For the Gods are great unholpen, and their grief is seldom seen,
+  And the wrong that they will and must be is soon as it hath not been.'
+
+  "Yet I thought: 'Shall I wed in the world, shall I gather grief on the
+    earth?
+  Then the fearless heart shall I wed, and bring the best to birth,
+  And fashion such tales for the telling, that Earth shall be holpen at
+    least,
+  If the Gods think scorn of its fairness, as they sit at the changeless
+    feast.'
+
+  "Then somewhat smiled Allfather; and he spake: 'So let it be!
+  The doom thereof abideth; the doom of me and thee.
+  Yet long shall the time pass over ere thy waking-day be born:
+  Fare forth, and forget and be weary 'neath the Sting of the Sleepful
+    Thorn!'
+
+  "So I came to the head of Hindfell and the ruddy shields and white,
+  And the wall of the wildfire wavering around the isle of night;
+  And there the Sleep-thorn pierced me, and the slumber on me fell,
+  And the night of nameless sorrows that hath no tale to tell.
+  Now I am she that loveth; and the day is nigh at hand
+  When I, who have ridden the sea-realm and the regions of the land,
+  And dwelt in the measureless mountains and the forge of stormy days,
+  Shall dwell in the house of my fathers and the land of the people's
+    praise;
+  And there shall hand meet hand, and heart by heart shall beat,
+  And the lying-down shall be joyous, and the morn's uprising sweet.
+  Lo now, I look on thine heart and behold of thine inmost will,
+  That thou of the days wouldst hearken that our portion shall fulfill;
+  But O, be wise of man-folk, and the hope of thine heart refrain!
+  As oft in the battle's beginning ye vex the steed with the rein,
+  Lest at last in its latter ending, when the sword hath hushed the horn,
+  His limbs should be weary and fail, and his might be over-worn.
+  O be wise, lest thy love constrain me, and my vision wax o'er-clear,
+  And thou ask of the thing that thou shouldst not, and the thing that
+    thou wouldst not hear.
+
+  "Know thou, most mighty of men, that the Norns shall order all,
+  And yet without thine helping shall no whit of their will befall;
+  Be wise! 'tis a marvel of words, and a mock for the fool and the blind;
+  But I saw it writ in the heavens, and its fashioning there did I find:
+  And the night of the Norns and their slumber, and the tide when the world
+    runs back,
+  And the way of the sun is tangled, it is wrought of the dastard's lack.
+  But the day when the fair earth blossoms, and the sun is bright above,
+  Of the daring deeds is it fashioned and the eager hearts of love.
+
+  "Be wise, and cherish thine hope in the freshness of the days,
+  And scatter its seed from thine hand in the field of the people's praise;
+  Then fair shall it fall in the furrow, and some the earth shall speed,
+  And the sons of men shall marvel at the blossom of the deed:
+  But some the earth shall speed not; nay rather, the wind of the heaven
+  Shall waft it away from thy longing--and a gift to the Gods hast thou
+    given,
+  And a tree for the roof and the wall in the house of the hope that
+    shall be,
+  Though it seemeth our very sorrow, and the grief of thee and me.
+
+  "Strive not with the fools of man-folk: for belike thou shalt overcome;
+  And what then is the gain of thine hunting when thou bearest the quarry
+    home?
+  Or else shall the fool overcome thee, and what deed thereof shall grow?
+  Nay, strive with the wise man rather, and increase thy woe and his woe;
+  Yet thereof a gain hast thou gotten; and the half of thine heart hast
+    thou won
+  If thou mayst prevail against him, and his deeds are the deeds thou hast
+    done:
+  Yea, and if thou fall before him, in him shalt thou live again,
+  And thy deeds in his hand shall blossom, and his heart of thine heart
+    shall be fain.
+
+  "When thou hearest the fool rejoicing, and he saith, 'It is over and past,
+  And the wrong was better than right, and hate turns into love at the last,
+  And we strove for nothing at all, and the Gods are fallen asleep;
+  For so good is the world a growing that the evil good shall reap:'
+  Then loosen thy sword in the scabbard and settle the helm on thine head,
+  For men betrayed are mighty, and great are the wrongfully dead.
+
+  "Wilt thou do the deed and repent it? thou hadst better never been born:
+  Wilt thou do the deed and exalt it? then thy fame shall be outworn:
+  Thou shalt do the deed and abide it, and sit on thy throne on high,
+  And look on to-day and to-morrow as those that never die.
+
+  "Love thou the Gods--and withstand them, lest thy fame should fail in
+    the end,
+  And thou be but their thrall and their bondsman, who wert born for their
+    very friend:
+  For few things from the Gods are hidden, and the hearts of men they know,
+  And how that none rejoiceth to quail and crouch alow.
+
+  "I have spoken the words, beloved, to thy matchless glory and worth;
+  But thy heart to my heart hath been speaking, though my tongue hath set
+    it forth:
+  For I am she that loveth, and I know what thou wouldst teach
+  From the heart of thine unlearned wisdom, and I needs must speak thy
+    speech."
+
+  Then words were weary and silent, but oft and o'er again
+  They craved and kissed rejoicing, and their hearts were full and fain.
+
+  Then spake the Son of Sigmund: "Fairest, and most of worth,
+  Hast thou seen the ways of man-folk and the regions of the earth?
+  Then speak yet more of wisdom; for most meet meseems it is
+  That my soul to thy soul be shapen, and that I should know thy bliss."
+
+  So she took his right hand meekly, nor any word would say,
+  Not e'en of love or praising, his longing to delay;
+  And they sat on the side of Hindfell, and their fain eyes looked and
+    loved,
+  As she told of the hidden matters whereby the world is moved:
+  And she told of the framing of all things, and the houses of the heaven;
+  And she told of the star-worlds' courses, and how the winds be driven;
+  And she told of the Norns and their names, and the fate that abideth
+    the earth;
+  And she told of the ways of King-folk in their anger and their mirth;
+  And she spake of the love of women, and told of the flame that burns,
+  And the fall of mighty houses, and the friend that falters and turns,
+  And the lurking blinded vengeance, and the wrong that amendeth wrong,
+  And the hand that repenteth its stroke, and the grief that endureth for
+    long;
+  And how man shall bear and forbear, and be master of all that is;
+  And how man shall measure it all, the wrath, and the grief, and the bliss.
+
+  "I saw the body of Wisdom, and of shifting guise was she wrought,
+  And I stretched out my hands to hold her, and a mote of the dust they
+    caught;
+  And I prayed her to come for my teaching, and she came in the midnight
+    dream--
+  And I woke and might not remember, nor betwixt her tangle deem:
+  She spake, and how might I hearken; I heard, and how might I know;
+  I knew, and how might I fashion, or her hidden glory show?
+  All things I have told thee of Wisdom are but fleeting images
+  Of her hosts that abide in the Heavens, and her light that Allfather sees:
+  Yet wise is the sower that sows, and wise is the reaper that reaps,
+  And wise is the smith in his smiting, and wise is the warder that keeps:
+  And wise shalt thou be to deliver, and I shall be wise to desire;
+  --And lo, the tale that is told, and the sword and the wakening fire!
+  Lo now, I am she that loveth, and hark how Greyfell neighs,
+  And Fafnir's Bed is gleaming, and green go the downward ways.
+  The road to the children of men and the deeds that thou shalt do
+  In the joy of thy life-days' morning, when thine hope is fashioned anew.
+  Come now, O Bane of the Serpent, for now is the high-noon come,
+  And the sun hangeth over Hindfell and looks on the earth-folk's home;
+  But the soul is so great within thee, and so glorious are thine eyes,
+  And me so love constraineth, and mine heart that was called the wise,
+  That we twain may see men's dwellings and the house where we shall dwell,
+  And the place of our life's beginning, where the tale shall be to tell."
+
+  So they climb the burg of Hindfell, and hand in hand they fare,
+  Till all about and above them is nought but the sunlit air,
+  And there close they cling together rejoicing in their mirth;
+  For far away beneath them lie the kingdoms of the earth,
+  And the garths of men-folk's dwellings and the streams that water them,
+  And the rich and plenteous acres, and the silver ocean's hem,
+  And the woodland wastes and the mountains, and all that holdeth all;
+  The house and the ship and the island, the loom and the mine and the
+    stall,
+  The beds of bane and healing, the crafts that slay and save,
+  The temple of God and the Doom-ring, the cradle and the grave.
+
+  Then spake the Victory-Wafter: "O King of the Earthly Age,
+  As a God thou beholdest the treasure and the joy of thine heritage,
+  And where on the wings of his hope is the spirit of Sigurd borne?
+  Yet I bid thee hover awhile as a lark alow on the corn;
+  Yet I bid thee look on the land 'twixt the wood and the silver sea
+  In the bight of the swirling river, and the house that cherished me!
+  There dwelleth mine earthly sister and the king that she hath wed;
+  There morn by morn aforetime I woke on the golden bed;
+  There eve by eve I tarried mid the speech and the lays of kings;
+  There noon by noon I wandered and plucked the blossoming things;
+  The little land of Lymdale by the swirling river's side,
+  Where Brynhild once was I called in the days ere my father died;
+  The little land of Lymdale 'twixt the woodland and the sea,
+  Where on thee mine eyes shall brighten and thine eyes shall beam on me."
+
+  "I shall seek thee there," said Sigurd, "when the day-spring is begun,
+  Ere we wend the world together in the season of the sun."
+
+  "I shall bide thee there," said Brynhild, "till the fullness of the days,
+  And the time for the glory appointed, and the springing-tide of praise."
+
+  From his hand then draweth Sigurd Andvari's ancient Gold;
+  There is nought but the sky above them as the ring together they hold,
+  The shapen ancient token, that hath no change nor end,
+  No change, and no beginning, no flaw for God to mend:
+  Then Sigurd cries: "O Brynhild, now hearken while I swear,
+  That the sun shall die in the heavens and the day no more be fair,
+  If I seek not love in Lymdale and the house that fostered thee,
+  And the land where thou awakedst 'twixt the woodland and the sea!"
+
+  And she cried: "O Sigurd, Sigurd, now hearken while I swear
+  That the day shall die for ever and the sun to blackness wear,
+  Ere I forget thee, Sigurd, as I lie 'twixt wood and sea
+  In the little land of Lymdale and the house that fostered me!"
+
+  Then he set the ring on her finger and once, if ne'er again,
+  They kissed and clung together, and their hearts were full and fain.
+
+  So the day grew old about them and the joy of their desire,
+  And eve and the sunset came, and faint grew the sunset fire,
+  And the shadowless death of the day was sweet in the golden tide;
+  But the stars shone forth on the world, and the twilight changed and
+    died;
+  And sure if the first of man-folk had been born to that starry night,
+  And had heard no tale of the sunrise, he had never longed for the light:
+  But Earth longed amidst her slumber, as 'neath the night she lay,
+  And fresh and all abundant abode the deeds of Day.
+
+
+  THE END.
+
+
+
+
+  PRINTING OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHER.
+
+
+
+
+  _Sold by all the principal booksellers on the Continent_.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+  January   1886.
+
+  TAUCHNITZ EDITION.
+
+  Each volume 1 Mark 60 Pf. or 2 Francs.
+
+_This Collection of British Authors, Tautchnitz Edition, will contain
+the new works of the most admired English and American Writers,
+immediately on their appearance, with copyright for continental
+circulation._
+
+
+
+
+  Contents:
+
+  Collection of British Authors, vol. 1-2377      _Page_ 2-13.
+
+  Collection of German Authors, vol. 1-47            "     14.
+
+  Series for the Young, vol. 1-30                    "     15.
+
+  Manuals of Conversation                            "     15.
+
+  Dictionaries                                       "     16.
+
+
+  Latest Volumes:
+
+  The Heir Presumptive. By _Florence Marryat_, 2 vols.
+
+  Othmar. By _Ouida_, 3 vols.
+
+  The Luck of the Darrells. By _James Payn_, 2 vols.
+
+  A Girton Girl. By Mrs. _Annie Edwardes_, 2 vols.
+
+  Murder or Manslaughter? By _Helen Mathers_, 1 v.
+
+  Andromeda. By _George Fleming_, 2 vols.
+
+  Maruja. By _Bret Harte_, 1 vol.
+
+  A Second Life. By Mrs. _Alexander_, 3 vols.
+
+  Colonel Enderby's Wife. By _Lucas Malet_, 2 vols.
+
+  A Family Affair. By _Hugh Conway_, 2 vols.
+
+
+
+
+  Collection of British Authors.
+
+
+  Rev. W. Adams:
+    Sacred Allegories 1 v.
+
+  Miss Aguilar:
+    Home Influence 2 v.
+    The Mother's Recompense 2 v.
+
+  Hamilton Aide:
+    Rita 1 v.
+    Carr of Carrlyon 2 v.
+    The Marstons 2 v.
+    In that State of Life 1 v.
+    Morals and Mysteries 1 v.
+    Penruddocke 2 v.
+    "A nine Days' Wonder" 1 v.
+    Poet and Peer 2 v.
+    Introduced to Society 1 v.
+
+  W. Harrison Ainsworth:
+    Windsor Castle 1 v.
+    Saint James's 1 v.
+    Jack Sheppard (w. portrait) 1 v.
+    The Lancashire Witches 2 v.
+    The Star-Chamber 2 v.
+    The Flitch of Bacon 1 v.
+    The Spendthrift 1 v.
+    Mervyn Clitheroe 2 v.
+    Ovingdean Grange 1 v.
+    The Constable of the Tower 1 v.
+    The Lord Mayor of London 2 v.
+    Cardinal Pole 2 v.
+    John Law 2 v.
+    The Spanish Match 2 v.
+    The Constable de Bourbon 2 v.
+    Old Court 2 v.
+    Myddleton Pomfret 2 v.
+    The South-Sea Bubble 2 v.
+    Hilary St. Ives 2 v.
+    Talbot Harland 1 v.
+    Tower Hill 1 v.
+    Boscobel; or, the Royal Oak 2 v.
+    The Good Old Times 2 v.
+    Merry England 2 v.
+    The Goldsmith's Wife 2 v.
+    Preston Fight 2 v.
+    Chetwynd Calverley 2 v.
+    The Leaguer of Lathom 2 v.
+    The Fall of Somerset 2 v.
+    Beatrice Tyldesley 2 v.
+    Beau Nash 2 v.
+    Stanley Brereton 2 v.
+
+  L. M. Alcott:
+    Little Women 2 v.
+    Little Men 1 v.
+    An Old-Fashioned Girl 1 v.
+
+  Mrs. Alexander:
+    A Second Life 3 v.
+
+  Alice, Grand Duchess of Hesse (with Portrait) 2 v.
+
+  "All for Greed," Author of--
+    All for Greed 1 v.
+    Love the Avenger 2 v.
+
+  Thomas Bailey Aldrich:
+    Marjorie Daw and other Tales 1 v.
+    The Stillwater Tragedy 1 v.
+
+  L. Alldridge:
+    By Love and Law 2 v.
+    The World she Awoke in 2 v.
+
+  F. Anstey:
+    The Giant's Robe 2 v.
+
+  Miss Austen:
+    Sense and Sensibility 1 v.
+    Mansfield Park 1 v.
+    Pride and Prejudice 1 v.
+    Northanger Abbey, and Persuasion 1 v.
+    Emma 1 v.
+
+  Lady Barker:
+    Station Life in New Zealand 1 v.
+    Station Amusements in New Zealand 1 v.
+    A Year's Housekeeping in South Africa 1 v.
+    Letters to Guy & A Distant Shore--Rodrigues 1 v.
+
+  Rev. R. H. Baynes:
+    Lyra Anglicana, Hymns & Sacred Songs 1 v.
+
+  Lord Beaconsfield:
+    _vide_ Disraeli.
+
+  Averil Beaumont:
+    Thornicroft's Model 2 v.
+
+  Currer Bell (Charlotte Bronte):
+    Jane Eyre 2 v.
+    Shirley 2 v.
+    Villette 2 v.
+    The Professor 1 v.
+
+  Ellis & Acton Bell:
+    Wuthering Heights, and Agnes Grey 2 v.
+
+  Frank Lee Benedict:
+    St. Simon's Niece 2 v.
+
+  Walter Besant:
+    The Revolt of Man 1 v.
+    The Golden Butterfly by Besant and Rice 2 v.
+    Ready-Money Mortiboy by Besant and Rice 2 v.
+    Dorothy Forster 2 v.
+
+  W. Black:
+    A Daughter of Heth 2 v.
+    In Silk Attire 2 v.
+    The strange Adventures of a Phaeton 2 v.
+    A Princess of Thule 2 v.
+    Kilmeny 1 v.
+    The Maid of Killeena 1 v.
+    Three Feathers 2 v.
+    Lady Silverdale's Sweetheart 1 v.
+    Madcap Violet 2 v.
+    Green Pastures and Piccadilly 2 v.
+    Macleod of Dare 2 v.
+    White Wings 2 v.
+    Sunrise 2 v.
+    The Beautiful Wretch 1 v.
+    Mr. Pisistratus Brown, M.P., etc. 1 v.
+    Shandon Bells (w. portrait) 2 v.
+    Judith Shakespeare 2 v.
+    The Wise Women of Inverness 1 v.
+
+  R. D. Blackmore:
+    Alice Lorraine 2 v.
+    Mary Anerley 3 v.
+    Christowell 2 v.
+    Tommy Upmore 2 v.
+
+  "Blackwood."
+    Tales from-- 1 v.
+    _Second Series_ 1 v.
+
+  Isa Blagden:
+    The Woman I loved, and the Woman who loved me; A Tuscan Wedding 1 v.
+
+  Lady Blessington:
+    Meredith 1 v.
+    Strathern 2 v.
+    Memoirs of a Femme de Chambre 1 v.
+    Marmaduke Herbert 2 v.
+    Country Quarters (w. portrait) 2 v.
+
+  Baroness Bloomfield:
+    Reminiscences of Court and Diplomatic Life (w. Portrait of Her Majesty
+      the Queen) 2 v.
+
+  Miss Braddon:
+    Lady Audley's Secret 2 v.
+    Aurora Floyd 2 v.
+    Eleanor's Victory 2 v.
+    John Marchmont's Legacy 2 v.
+    Henry Dunbar 2 v.
+    The Doctor's Wife 2 v.
+    Only a Clod 2 v.
+    Sir Jasper's Tenant 2 v.
+    The Lady's Mile 2 v.
+    Rupert Godwin 2 v.
+    Dead-Sea Fruit 2 v.
+    Run to Earth 2 v.
+    Fenton's Quest 2 v.
+    The Lovels of Arden 2 v.
+    Strangers and Pilgrims 2 v.
+    Lucius Davoren 3 v.
+    Taken at the Flood 3 v.
+    Lost for Love 2 v.
+    A Strange World 2 v.
+    Hostages to Fortune 2 v.
+    Dead Men's Shoes 2 v.
+    Joshua Haggard's Daughter 2 v.
+    Weavers and Weft 1 v.
+    In Great Waters 1 v.
+    An Open Verdict 3 v.
+    Vixen 3 v.
+    The Cloven Foot 3 v.
+    The Story of Barbara 2 v.
+    Just as I am 2 v.
+    Asphodel 3 v.
+    Mount Royal 2 v.
+    The Golden Calf 2 v.
+    Flower and Weed 1 v.
+    Phantom Fortune 3 v.
+    Under the Red Flag 1 v.
+    Ishmael 3 v.
+    Wyllard's Weird 3 v.
+
+  Lady Brassey:
+    A Voyage in the "Sunbeam" 2 v.
+    Sunshine and Storm in the East 2 v.
+    In the Trades, the Tropics, and the Roaring Forties 2 v.
+
+  The Bread-Winners 1 v.
+
+  Shirley Brooks:
+    The Silver Cord 3 v.
+    Sooner or Later 3 v.
+
+  Miss Rhoda Broughton:
+    Cometh up as a Flower 1 v.
+    Not wisely, but too well 2 v.
+    Red as a Rose is She 2 v.
+    Tales for Christmas Eve 1 v.
+    Nancy 2 v. Joan 2 v.
+    Second Thoughts 2 v.
+    Belinda 2 v.
+
+  John Brown:
+    Rab and his Friends, and other Tales 1 v.
+
+  Eliz. Barrett Browning:
+    A Selection from her Poetry (w. portrait) 1 v.
+    Aurora Leigh 1 v.
+
+  Robert Browning:
+    Poetical Works (with portrait) 4 v.
+
+  Bulwer (Lord Lytton):
+    Pelham (with portrait) 1 v.
+    Eugene Aram 1 v.
+    Paul Clifford 1 v.
+    Zanoni 1 v.
+    The Last Days of Pompeii 1 v.
+    The Disowned 1 v.
+    Ernest Maltravers 1 v.
+    Alice 1 v.
+    Eva, and the Pilgrims of the Rhine 1 v.
+    Devereux 1 v.
+    Godolphin, and Falkland 1 v.
+    Rienzi 1 v.
+    Night and Morning 1 v.
+    The Last of the Barons 2 v.
+    Athens 2 v.
+    The Poems and Ballads of Schiller 1 v.
+    Lucretia 2 v.
+    Harold 2 v.
+    King Arthur 2 v.
+    The new Timon; St Stephen's 1 v.
+    The Caxtons 2 v.
+    My Novel 4 v.
+    What will he do with it? 4 v.
+    The Dramatic Works 2 v.
+    A Strange Story 2 v.
+    Caxtoniana 2 v.
+    The Lost Tales of Miletus 1 v.
+    Miscellaneous Prose Works 4 v.
+    The Odes and Epodes of Horace 2 v.
+    Kenelm Chillingly 4 v.
+    The Coming Race 1 v.
+    The Parisians 4 v.
+    Pausanias 1 v.
+
+  Henry Lytton Bulwer (Lord Dalling):
+    Historical Characters 2 v.
+    The Life of Henry John Temple,
+    Viscount Palmerston 3 v.
+
+  John Bunyan:
+    The Pilgrim's Progress 1 v.
+
+  Buried Alone 1 v.
+
+  F. H. Burnett:
+    Through one Administration 2 v.
+
+  Miss Burney: Evelina 1 v.
+
+  Robert Burns:
+    Poetical Works (w. portrait) 1 v.
+
+  Richard F. Burton:
+    Mecca and Medina 3 v.
+
+  Mrs. B. H. Buxton:
+    "Jennie of 'the Prince's'" 2 v.
+    Won! 2 v.
+    Great Grenfell Gardens 2 v.
+    Nell--on and off the Stage 2 v.
+    From the Wings 2 v.
+
+  Lord Byron:
+    Poetical Works (w. portrait) 5 v.
+
+  Cameron:
+    Across Africa 2 v.
+
+  Thomas Carlyle:
+    The French Revolution 3 v.
+    Frederick the Great 13 v.
+    Oliver Cromwell's Letters and Speeches 4 v.
+    The Life of Friedrich Schiller 1 v.
+
+  Alaric Carr:
+    Treherne's Temptation 2 v.
+
+  Maria Louisa Charlesworth:
+    Oliver of the Mill 1 v.
+
+  "Chronicles of the Schoenberg-Cotta Family," Author of--
+    Chronicles of the Schoenberg-Cotta Family 2 v.
+    The Draytons and the Davenants 2 v.
+    On Both Sides of the Sea 2 v.
+    Winifred Bertram 1 v.
+    Diary of Mrs. Kitty Trevylyan 1 v.
+    The Victory of the Vanquished 1 v.
+    The Cottage by the Cathedral 1 v.
+    Against the Stream 2 v.
+    The Bertram Family 2 v.
+    Conquering and to Conquer 1 v.
+    Lapsed, but not Lost 1 v.
+
+  Frances Power Cobbe:
+    Re-Echoes 1 v.
+
+  Coleridge:
+    The Poems 1 v.
+
+  C. R. Coleridge:
+    An English Squire 2 v.
+
+  Chas. A. Collins:
+    A Cruise upon Wheels 2 v.
+
+  Mortimer Collins:
+    Sweet and Twenty 2 v.
+    A Fight with Fortune 2 v.
+
+  Wilkie Collins:
+    After Dark 1 v.
+    Hide and Seek 2 v.
+    A Plot in Private Life 1 v.
+    The Woman in White 2 v.
+    Basil 1 v.
+    No Name 3 v.
+    The Dead Secret 2 v.
+    Antonina 2 v.
+    Armadale 3 v.
+    The Moonstone 2 v.
+    Man and Wife 3 v.
+    Poor Miss Finch 2 v.
+    Miss or Mrs.? 1 v.
+    The New Magdalen 2 v.
+    The Frozen Deep 1 v.
+    The Law and the Lady 2 v.
+    The Two Destinies 1 v.
+    My Lady's Money & Percy and the Prophet 1 v.
+    The Haunted Hotel 1 v.
+    Fallen Leaves 2 v.
+    Jezebel's Daughter 2 v.
+    The Black Robe 2 v.
+    Heart and Science 2 v.
+    "I say no" 2 v.
+
+  "Cometh up as a Flower," Author of--
+    _vide_ Broughton.
+
+  Hugh Conway:
+    Called Back 1 v.
+    Bound Together 2 v.
+    Dark Days 1 v.
+    A Family Affair 2 v.
+
+  Fenimore Cooper:
+    The Spy (w. portrait) 1 v.
+    The two Admirals 1 v.
+    The Jack O'Lantern 1 v.
+
+  George L. Craik:
+    Manual of English Literature & Language 2 v.
+
+  Mrs. Craik (Miss Mulock):
+    John Halifax, Gentleman 2 v.
+    The Head of the Family 2 v.
+    A Life for a Life 2 v.
+    A Woman's Thoughts about Women 1 v.
+    Agatha's Husband 1 v.
+    Romantic Tales 1 v.
+    Domestic Stories 1 v.
+    Mistress and Maid 1 v.
+    The Ogilvies 1 v.
+    Lord Erlistoun 1 v.
+    Christian's Mistake 1 v.
+    Bread upon the Waters 1 v.
+    A Noble Life 1 v.
+    Olive 2 v.
+    Two Marriages 1 v.
+    Studies from Life 1 v.
+    Poems 1 v.
+    The Woman's Kingdom 2 v.
+    The Unkind Word 2 v.
+    A Brave Lady 2 v.
+    Hannah 2 v.
+    Fair France 1 v.
+    My Mother and I 1 v.
+    The Little Lame Prince 1 v.
+    Sermons out of Church 1 v.
+    The Laurel Bush 1 v.
+    A Legacy 2 v.
+    Young Mrs. Jardine 2 v.
+    His Little Mother 1 v.
+    Plain Speaking 1 v.
+    Miss Tommy 1 v.
+
+  Miss Georgiana Craik:
+    Lost and Won 1 v.
+    Faith Unwin's Ordeal 1 v.
+    Leslie Tyrrell 1 v.
+    Winifred's Wooing, and other Tales 1 v.
+    Mildred 1 v.
+    Esther Hill's Secret 2 v.
+    Hero Trevelyan 1 v.
+    Without Kith or Kin 2 v.
+    Only a Butterfly 1 v.
+    Sylvia's Choice;
+    Theresa 2 v.
+    Anne Warwick 1 v.
+    Two Tales of Married Life 2 v. (Vol. I. Hard to Bear, Vol. II. _vide_
+      M. C. Stirling.)
+    Dorcas 2 v.
+    Two Women 2 v.
+
+  Mrs. A. Craven:
+    Eliane. Translated by Lady Fullerton 2 v.
+
+  F. Marion Crawford:
+    Mr. Isaacs 1 v.
+    Doctor Claudius 1 v.
+    To Leeward 1 v.
+    A Roman Singer 1 v.
+    An American Politician 1 v.
+    Zoroaster 1 v.
+
+  J. W. Cross:
+    _vide_ George Eliot's Life.
+
+  Miss Cummins:
+    The Lamplighter 1 v.
+    Mabel Vaughan 1 v.
+    El Fureidis 1 v.
+    Haunted Hearts 1 v.
+
+  "Daily News,"
+    War Correspondence 1877 by A. Forbes, etc. 3 v.
+
+  De-Foe:
+    Robinson Crusoe 1 v.
+
+  Democracy.
+    An American Novel 1 v.
+
+  Charles Dickens:
+    The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club (w. portrait) 2 v.
+    American Notes 1 v.
+    Oliver Twist 1 v.
+    The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby 2 v.
+    Sketches 1 v.
+    The Life and Adventures of Martin Chuzzlewit 2 v.
+    A Christmas Carol; the Chimes; the Cricket on the Hearth 1 v.
+    Master Humphrey's Clock (Old Curiosity Shop, Barnaby Rudge, and other
+      Tales) 3 v.
+    Pictures from Italy 1 v.
+    The Battle of Life;
+    the Haunted Man 1 v.
+    Dombey and Son 3 v.
+    David Copperfield 3 v.
+    Bleak House 4 v.
+    A Child's History of England (2 v. 8vo M. 2,70.)
+    Hard Times 1 v.
+    Little Dorrit 4 v.
+    A Tale of two Cities 2 v.
+    Hunted Down;
+    The Uncommercial Traveller 1 v.
+    Great Expectations 2 v.
+    Christmas Stories 1 v.
+    Our Mutual Friend 4 v.
+    Somebody's Luggage;
+    Mrs. Lirriper's Lodgings; Mrs. Lirriper's Legacy 1 v.
+    Doctor Marigold's Prescriptions; Mugby Junction 1 v.
+    No Thoroughfare 1 v.
+    The Mystery of Edwin Drood 2 v.
+    The Mudfog Papers 1 v.
+    _Vide_ Household Words, Novels and Tales, and John Forster.
+
+  Charles Dickens:
+    The Letters of Charles Dickens edited by his Sister-in-law and his
+      eldest Daughter 4 v.
+
+  B. Disraeli (Lord Beaconsfield):
+    Coningsby 1 v.
+    Sybil 1 v.
+    Contarini Fleming (w. portrait) 1 v.
+    Alroy 1 v. Tancred 2 v.
+    Venetia 2 v.
+    Vivian Grey 2 v.
+    Henrietta Temple 1 v.
+    Lothair 2 v.
+    Endymion 2 v.
+
+  W. Hepworth Dixon:
+    Personal History of Lord Bacon 1 v.
+    The Holy Land 2 v.
+    New America 2 v.
+    Spiritual Wives 2 v.
+    Her Majesty's Tower 4 v.
+    Free Russia 2 v.
+    History of two Queens 6 v.
+    White Conquest 2 v.
+    Diana, Lady Lyle 2 v.
+
+  The Earl and the Doctor:
+    South Sea Bubbles 1 v.
+
+  Mrs. Edwardes:
+    Archie Lovell 2 v.
+    Steven Lawrence, Yeoman 2 v.
+    Ought we to Visit her? 2 v.
+    A Vagabond Heroine 1 v.
+    Leah: A Woman of Fashion 2 v.
+    A Blue-Stocking 1 v.
+    Jet: Her Face or Her Fortune? 1 v.
+    Vivian the Beauty 1 v.
+    A Ballroom Repentance 2 v.
+    A Girton Girl 2 v.
+
+  Miss Amelia B. Edwards:
+    Barbara's History 2 v.
+    Miss Carew 2 v.
+    Hand and Glove 1 v.
+    Half a Million of Money 2 v.
+    Debenham's Vow 2 v.
+    In the Days of my Youth 2 v.
+    Untrodden Peaks and unfrequented Valleys 1 v.
+    Monsieur Maurice 1 v.
+    Black Forest 1 v.
+    A Poetry-Book of Elder Poets 1 v.
+    A Thousand Miles up the Nile 2 v.
+    A Poetry-Book of Modern Poets 1 v.
+    Lord Brackenbury 2 v.
+
+  Miss M. Betham-Edwards:
+    The Sylvestres 1 v.
+    Felicia 2 v.
+    Brother Gabriel 2 v.
+    Forestalled 1 v.
+    Exchange no Robbery 1 v.
+    Disarmed 1 v.
+    Doctor Jacob 1 v.
+    Pearla 1 v.
+
+  Barbara Elbon:
+    Bethesda 2 v.
+
+  George Eliot:
+    Scenes of Clerical Life 2 v.
+    Adam Bede 2 v.
+    The Mill on the Floss 2 v.
+    Silas Marner 1 v.
+    Romola 2 v.
+    Felix Holt 2 v.
+    Daniel Deronda 4 v.
+    The Lifted Veil and Brother Jacob 1 v.
+    Impressions of Theophrastus Such 1 v.
+    Essays 1 v.
+
+  George Eliot's Life as related in her Letters and Journals. Arranged
+      and ed. by her Husband J. W. Cross 4 v.
+
+  Mrs. Elliot:
+    Diary of an Idle Woman in Italy 2 v.
+    Old Court Life in France 2 v.
+    The Italians 2 v.
+    The Diary of an Idle Woman in Sicily 1 v.
+    Pictures of Old Rome 1 v.
+    Diary of an Idle Woman in Spain 2 v.
+    The Red Cardinal 1 v.
+
+  Essays and Reviews 1 v.
+
+  Estelle Russell 2 v.
+
+  Expiated 2 v.
+
+  G. M. Fenn:
+    The Parson o' Dumford 2 v.
+    The Clerk of Portwick 2 v.
+
+  Fielding:
+    The History of Tom Jones 2 v.
+
+  Five Centuries of the English Language and Literature 1 v.
+
+  George Fleming:
+    Kismet 1 v.
+    Andromeda 2 v.
+
+  A. Forbes:
+    My Experiences of the War between France and Germany 2 v.
+    Soldiering and Scribbling 1 v.
+    See also "Daily News," War Correspondence.
+
+  Mrs. Forrester:
+    Viva 2 v.
+    Rhona 2 v.
+    Roy and Viola 2 v.
+    My Lord and My Lady 2 v.
+    I have Lived and Loved 2 v.
+    June 2 v.
+    Omnia Vanitas 1 v.
+    Although he was a Lord, etc. 1 v.
+    Corisande, etc. 1 v.
+
+  John Forster:
+    Life of Charles Dickens 6 v.
+    Life and Times of Oliver Goldsmith 2 v.
+
+  Jessie Fothergill:
+    The First Violin 2 v.
+    Probation 2 v.
+    Made or Marred and "One of Three" 1 v.
+    Kith and Kin 2 v.
+    Peril 2 v.
+
+  "Found Dead," Author of--
+    _vide_ James Payn.
+
+  Caroline Fox:
+    Memories of Old Friends from her Journals, edited by Horace N. Pym 2 v.
+
+  Frank Fairlegh 2 v.
+
+  E. A. Freeman:
+    The Growth of the English Constitution 1 v.
+    Select Historical Essays 1 v.
+
+  Lady G. Fullerton:
+    Ellen Middleton 1 v.
+    Grantley Manor 2 v.
+    Lady-Bird 2 v.
+    Too Strange not to be True 2 v.
+    Constance Sherwood 2 v.
+    A stormy Life 2 v.
+    Mrs. Gerald's Niece 2 v.
+    The Notary's Daughter 1 v.
+    The Lilies of the Valley 1 v.
+    The Countess de Bonneval 1 v.
+    Rose Leblanc 1 v.
+    Seven Stories 1 v.
+    The Life of Luisa de Carvajal 1 v.
+    A Will and a Way 2 v.
+    Eliane 2 v. (_vide_ Craven).
+    Laurentia 1 v.
+
+  Mrs. Gaskell:
+    Mary Barton 1 v.
+    Ruth 2 v.
+    North and South 1 v.
+    Lizzie Leigh 1 v.
+    The Life of Charlotte Bronte 2 v.
+    Lois the Witch 1 v.
+    Sylvia's Lovers 2 v.
+    A Dark Night's Work 1 v.
+    Wives and Daughters 3 v.
+    Cranford 1 v.
+    Cousin Phillis, and other Tales 1 v.
+
+  Geraldine Hawthorne _vide_ "Miss Molly."
+
+  Agnes Giberne:
+    The Curate's Home 1 v.
+
+  Right Hon. W. E. Gladstone:
+    Rome and the newest Fashions in Religion 1 v.
+    Bulgarian Horrors: Russia in Turkistan 1 v.
+    The Hellenic Factor in the Eastern Problem 1 v.
+
+  Goldsmith:
+    Select Works: The Vicar of Wakefield; Poems; Dramas (w. portrait) 1 v.
+
+  Major-Gen. C. G. Gordon's Journals, at Kartoum. Introduction and Notes
+    by A. E. Hake (with eighteen Illustrations) 2 v.
+
+  Mrs. Gore:
+    Castles in the Air 1 v.
+    The Dean's Daughter 2 v.
+    Progress and Prejudice 2 v.
+    Mammon 2 v.
+    A Life's Lessons 2 v.
+    The two Aristocracies 2 v.
+    Heckington 2 v.
+
+  Miss Grant:
+    Victor Lescar 2 v.
+    The Sun-Maid 2 v.
+    My Heart's in the Highlands 2 v.
+    Artiste 2 v.
+    Prince Hugo 2 v.
+    Cara Roma 2 v.
+
+  W. A. Baillie Grohman:
+    Tyrol and the Tyrolese 1 v.
+
+  "Guy Livingstone," Author of--
+    Guy Livingstone 1 v.
+    Sword and Gown 1 v.
+    Barren Honour 1 v.
+    Border and Bastille 1 v.
+    Maurice Dering 1 v.
+    Sans Merci 2 v.
+    Breaking a Butterfly 2 v.
+    Anteros 2 v.
+    Hagarene 2 v.
+
+  J. Habberton:
+    Helen's Babies & Other People's Children 1 v.
+    The Bowsham Puzzle 1 v.
+    One Tramp; Mrs. Mayburn's Twins 1 v.
+
+  Hake:
+    _v_. Gordon's Journals.
+
+  Mrs. S. C. Hall:
+    Can Wrong be Right? 1 v.
+    Marian 2 v.
+
+  Thomas Hardy:
+    The Hand of Ethelberta 2 v.
+    Far from the Madding Crowd 2 v.
+    The Return of the Native 2 v.
+    The Trumpet-Major 2 v.
+    A Laodicean 2 v.
+    Two on a Tower 2 v.
+    A Pair of Blue Eyes 2 v.
+
+  Agnes Harrison:
+    Martin's Vineyard 1 v.
+
+  Bret Harte:
+    Prose and Poetry (Tales of the Argonauts; Spanish and American
+      Legends; Condensed Novels; Civic and Character Sketches; Poems) 2 v.
+    Idyls of the Foothills 1 v.
+    Gabriel Conroy 2 v.
+    Two Men of Sandy Bar 1 v.
+    Thankful Blossom 1 v.
+    The Story of a Mine 1 v.
+    Drift from Two Shores 1 v.
+    An Heiress of Red Dog 1 v.
+    The Twins of Table Mountain, etc. 1 v.
+    Jeff Briggs's Love Story, etc. 1 v.
+    Flip, etc. 1 v.
+    On the Frontier 1 v.
+    By Shore and Sedge 1 v.
+    Maruja 1 v.
+
+  Sir H. Havelock, by the Rev. W. Brock, 1 v.
+
+  N. Hawthorne:
+    The Scarlet Letter 1 v.
+    Transformation 2 v.
+    Passages from the English Note-Books 2 v.
+
+  "Heir of Redclyffe," Author of--
+    _vide_ Yonge.
+
+  Sir Arthur Helps:
+    Friends in Council 2 v.
+    Ivan de Biron 2 v.
+
+  Mrs. Hemans:
+    The Select Poetical Works 1 v.
+
+  Mrs. Cashel Hoey:
+    A Golden Sorrow 2 v.
+    Out of Court 2 v.
+
+  Oliver Wendell Holmes:
+    The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table 1 v.
+    The Professor at the Breakfast-Table 1 v.
+    The Poet at the Breakfast-Table 1 v.
+
+  Household Words conducted by Ch. Dickens. 1851-56. 36 v.
+    Novels and Tales reprinted from Household Words by Ch. Dickens.
+      1856-59. 11 v.
+
+  Miss Howard:
+    One Summer 1 v.
+    Aunt Serena 1 v.
+    Guenn 2 v.
+
+  W. D. Howells:
+    A Foregone Conclusion 1 v.
+    The Lady of the Aroostook 1 v.
+    A Modern Instance 2 v.
+    The Undiscovered Country 1 v.
+    Venetian Life (w. portr.) 1 v.
+    Italian Journeys 1 v.
+    A Chance Acquaintance 1 v.
+    Their Wedding Journey 1 v.
+    A Fearful Responsibility, etc. 1 v.
+    A Woman's Reason 2 v.
+    Dr. Breen's Practice 1 v.
+
+  Thos. Hughes:
+    Tom Brown's School Days 1 v.
+
+  Jean Ingelow:
+    Off the Skelligs 3 v.
+    Poems 2 v.
+    Fated to be Free 2 v.
+    Sarah de Berenger 2 v.
+    Don John 2 v.
+
+  J. H. Ingram:
+    _vide_ E. A. Poe.
+
+  Washington Irving:
+    Sketch Book (w. portrait) 1 v.
+    Life of Mahomet 1 v.
+    Successors of Mahomet 1 v.
+    Oliver Goldsmith 1 v.
+    Chronicles of Wolfert's Roost 1 v.
+    Life of George Washington 5 v.
+
+  Helen Jackson:
+    Ramona 2 v.
+
+  G. P. R. James:
+    Morley Ernstein (w. portrait) 1 v.
+    Forest Days 1 v.
+    The False Heir 1 v.
+    Arabella Stuart 1 v.
+    Rose d'Albret 1 v.
+    Arrah Neil 1 v.
+    Agincourt 1 v.
+    The Smuggler 1 v.
+    The Step-Mother 2 v.
+    Beauchamp 1 v.
+    Heidelberg 1 v.
+    The Gipsy 1 v.
+    The Castle of Ehrenstein 1 v.
+    Darnley 1 v.
+    Russell 2 v.
+    The Convict 2 v.
+    Sir Theodore Broughton 2 v.
+
+  Henry James:
+    The American 2 v.
+    The Europeans 1 v.
+    Daisy Miller 1 v.
+    Roderick Hudson 2 v.
+    The Madonna of the Future, etc. 1 v.
+    Eugene Pickering, etc. 1 v.
+    Confidence 1 v.
+    Washington Square 2 v.
+    The Portrait of a Lady 3 v.
+    Foreign Parts 1 v.
+    French Poets and Novelists 1 v.
+    The Siege of London, etc. 1 v.
+    Portraits of Places 1 v.
+    A Little Tour in France 1 v.
+
+  J. Cordy Jeaffreson:
+    A Book about Doctors 2 v.
+    A Woman in Spite of herself 2 v.
+    The Real Lord Byron 3 v.
+
+  Mrs. Jenkin:
+    "Who Breaks--Pays" 1 v.
+    Skirmishing 1 v.
+    Once and Again 2 v.
+    Two French Marriages 2 v.
+    Within an Ace 1 v.
+    Jupiter's Daughters 1 v.
+
+  Edward Jenkins:
+    Ginx's Baby; Lord Bantam 2 v.
+
+  "Jennie of 'the Prince's,'" Author of--
+    _vide_ Mrs. Buxton.
+
+  Douglas Jerrold:
+    The History of St. Giles and St. James 2 v.
+    Men of Character 2 v.
+
+  "John Halifax," Author of--
+    _vide_ Mrs. Craik.
+
+  "Johnny Ludlow," Author of--
+    _vide_ Mrs. Wood.
+
+  Johnson:
+    The Lives of the English Poets 2 v.
+
+  Emily Jolly:
+    Colonel Dacre 2 v.
+
+  "Joshua Davidson," Author of--
+    _vide_ E. Lynn Linton.
+
+  Miss Kavanagh:
+    Nathalie 2 v.
+    Daisy Burns 2 v.
+    Grace Lee 2 v.
+    Rachel Gray 1 v.
+    Adele 3 v.
+    A Summer and Winter in the Two Sicilies 2 v.
+    Seven Years 2 v.
+    French Women of Letters 1 v.
+    English Women of Letters 1 v.
+    Queen Mab 2 v.
+    Beatrice 2 v.
+    Sybil's Second Love 2 v.
+    Dora 2 v.
+    Silvia 2 v.
+    Bessie 2 v.
+    John Dorrien 3 v.
+    Two Lilies 2 v.
+    Forget-me-nots 2 v.
+
+  Annie Keary:
+    Oldbury 2 v.
+    Castle Daly 2 v.
+
+  Elsa D'Esterre-Keeling:
+    Three Sisters 1 v.
+
+  Kempis:
+    _vide_ Thomas a Kempis.
+
+  R. B. Kimball:
+    Saint Leger 1 v.
+    Romance of Student Life abroad 1 v.
+    Undercurrents 1 v.
+    Was he Successful? 1 v.
+    To-Day in New-York 1 v.
+
+  A. W. Kinglake:
+    Eothen 1 v.
+    Invasion of the Crimea v. 1-10.
+
+  Charles Kingsley:
+    Yeast 1 v.
+    Westward ho! 2 v.
+    Two Years ago 2 v.
+    Hypatia 2 v.
+    Alton Locke 1 v.
+    Hereward the Wake 2 v.
+    At Last 2 v.
+
+  Charles Kingsley:
+    His Letters and Memories of his Life edited by his Wife 2 v.
+
+  Henry Kingsley:
+    Ravenshoe 2 v.
+    Austin Elliot 1 v.
+    The Recollections of Geoffry Hamlyn 2 v.
+    The Hillyars and the Burtons 2 v.
+    Leighton Court 1 v.
+    Valentin 1 v.
+    Oakshott Castle 1 v.
+    Reginald Hetherege 2 v.
+    The Grange Garden 2 v.
+
+  May Laffan:
+    Flitters, Tatters, and the Counsellor, etc. 1 v.
+
+  Charles Lamb:
+    The Essays of Elia and Eliana 1 v.
+
+  Mary Langdon:
+    Ida May 1 v.
+
+  "Last of the Cavaliers," Author of--
+    Last of the Cavaliers 2 v.
+    The Gain of a Loss 2 v.
+
+  Leaves from the Journal of our Life in the Highlands from 1848 to 1861,
+      1 v.
+    More Leaves from the Journal of a Life in the Highlands from 1862 to
+      1882, 1 v.
+
+  Holme Lee:
+    _vide_ Miss Parr.
+
+  S. Le Fanu:
+    Uncle Silas 2 v.
+    Guy Deverell 2 v.
+
+  Mark Lemon:
+    Wait for the End 2 v.
+    Loved at Last 2 v.
+    Falkner Lyle 2 v.
+    Leyton Hall 2 v.
+    Golden Fetters 2 v.
+
+  Charles Lever:
+    The O'Donoghue 1 v.
+    The Knight of Gwynne 3 v.
+    Arthur O'Leary 2 v.
+    The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer 2 v.
+    Charles O'Malley 3 v.
+    Tom Burke of "Ours" 3 v.
+    Jack Hinton 2 v.
+    The Daltons 4 v.
+    The Dodd Family abroad 3 v.
+    The Martins of Cro' Martin 3 v.
+    The Fortunes of Glencore 2 v.
+    Roland Cashel 3 v.
+    Davenport Dunn 3 v.
+    Con Cregan 2 v.
+    One of Them 2 v.
+    Maurice Tiernay 2 v.
+    Sir Jasper Carew 2 v.
+    Barrington 2 v.
+    A Day's Ride: a Life's Romance 2 v.
+    Luttrell of Arran 2 v.
+    Tony Butler 2 v.
+    Sir Brook Fossbrooke 2 v.
+    The Bramleighs of Bishop's Folly 2 v.
+    A Rent in a Cloud 1 v.
+    That Boy of Norcott's 1 v.
+    St. Patrick's Eve; Paul Gosslett's Confessions 1 v.
+    Lord Kilgobbin 2 v.
+
+  G. H. Lewes:
+    Ranthorpe 1 v.
+    Physiology of Common Life 2 v.
+    On Actors and the Art of Acting 1 v.
+
+  E. Lynn Linton:
+    Joshua Davidson 1 v.
+    Patricia Kemball 2 v.
+    The Atonement of Leam Dundas 2 v.
+    The World well Lost 2 v.
+    Under which Lord? 2 v.
+    With a Silken Thread etc. 1 v.
+    Todhunters' at Loanin' Head etc. 1 v.
+    "My Love!" 2 v.
+    The Girl of the Period, etc. 1 v.
+    Ione 2 v.
+
+  Laurence W. M. Lockhart:
+    Mine is Thine 2 v.
+
+  Longfellow:
+    Poetical Works (w. portrait) 3 v.
+    The Divine Comedy of Dante Alighieri 3 v.
+    The New-England Tragedies 1 v.
+    The Divine Tragedy 1 v.
+    Three Books of Song 1 v.
+    The Masque of Pandora 1 v.
+
+  M. Lonsdale:
+    Sister Dora 1 v.
+
+  A Lost Battle 2 v.
+
+  Lutfullah:
+    Autobiography of Lutfullah, by Eastwick 1 v.
+
+  Lord Lytton:
+    _vide_ Bulwer.
+
+  Robert Lord Lytton (Owen Meredith):
+    Poems 2 v.
+    Fables in Song 2 v.
+
+  Lord Macaulay:
+    History of England (w. portrait) 10 v.
+    Critical and Historical Essays 5 v.
+    Lays of Ancient Rome 1 v.
+    Speeches 2 v.
+    Biographical Essays 1 v.
+    William Pitt, Atterbury 1 v.
+    (See also Trevelyan).
+
+  Justin McCarthy:
+    Waterdale Neighbours 2 v.
+    Lady Disdain 2 v.
+    Miss Misanthrope 2 v.
+    A History of our own Times 5 v.
+    Donna Quixote 2 v.
+    A short History of our own Times 2 v.
+    A History of the Four Georges vol. 1.
+
+  George MacDonald:
+    Alec Forbes of Howglen 2 v.
+    Annals of a Quiet Neighbourhood 2 v.
+    David Elginbrod 2 v.
+    The Vicar's Daughter 2 v.
+    Malcolm 2 v.
+    St. George and St. Michael 2 v.
+    The Marquis of Lossie 2 v.
+    Sir Gibbie 2 v.
+    Mary Marston 2 v.
+    The Gifts of the Child Christ, etc. 1 v.
+    The Princess and Curdie 1 v.
+
+  Mrs. Mackarness:
+    Sunbeam Stories 1 v.
+    A Peerless Wife 2 v.
+    A Mingled Yarn 2 v.
+
+  Charles McKnight:
+    Old Fort Duquesne 2 v.
+
+  Norman Macleod:
+    The old Lieutenant and his Son 1 v.
+
+  Mrs. Macquoid:
+    Patty 2 v.
+    Miriam's Marriage 2 v.
+    Pictures across the Channel 2 v.
+    Too Soon 1 v.
+    My Story 2 v.
+    Diane 2 v.
+    Beside the River 2 v.
+    A Faithful Lover 2 v.
+
+  "Mademoiselle Mori," Author of--
+    Mademoiselle Mori 2 v.
+    Denise 1 v.
+    Madame Fontenoy 1 v.
+    On the Edge of the Storm 1 v.
+    The Atelier du Lys 2 v.
+    In the Olden Time 2 v.
+
+  Lord Mahon:
+    _vide_ Stanhope.
+
+  E. S. Maine:
+    Scarscliff Rocks 2 v.
+
+  Lucas Malet:
+    Colonel Enderby's Wife 2 v.
+
+  Lord Malmesbury:
+    Memoirs of an Ex-Minister 3 v.
+
+  R. Blachford Mansfield:
+    The Log of the Water Lily 1 v.
+
+  Mark Twain:
+    The Adventures of Tom Sawyer 1 v.
+    The Innocents Abroad; or, the New Pilgrims' Progress 2 v.
+    A Tramp Abroad 2 v.
+    "Roughing it" 1 v.
+    The Innocents at Home 1 v.
+    The Prince and the Pauper 2 v.
+    The Stolen White Elephant, etc. 1 v.
+    Life on the Mississippi 2 v.
+    Sketches 1 v.
+    Huckleberry Finn 2 v.
+
+  Marmorne 1 v.
+
+  Capt. Marryat:
+    Jacob Faithful (w. portrait) 1 v.
+    Percival Keene 1 v.
+    Peter Simple 1 v.
+    Japhet 1 v.
+    Monsieur Violet 1 v.
+    The Settlers 1 v.
+    The Mission 1 v.
+    The Privateer's-Man 1 v.
+    The Children of the New-Forest 1 v.
+    Valerie 1 v.
+    Mr. Midshipman Easy 1 v.
+    The King's Own 1 v.
+
+  Florence Marryat:
+    Love's Conflict 2 v.
+    For Ever and Ever 2 v.
+    The Confessions of Gerald Estcourt 2 v.
+    Nelly Brooke 2 v.
+    Veronique 2 v.
+    Petronel 2 v.
+    Her Lord and Master 2 v.
+    The Prey of the Gods 1 v.
+    Life of Captain Marryat 1 v.
+    Mad Dumaresq 2 v.
+    No Intentions 2 v.
+    Fighting the Air 2 v.
+    A Star and a Heart 1 v.
+    The Poison of Asps 1 v.
+    A Lucky Disappointment 1 v.
+    My own Child 2 v.
+    Her Father's Name 2 v.
+    A Harvest of Wild Oats 2 v.
+    A Little Stepson 1 v.
+    Written in Fire 2 v.
+    Her World against a Lie 2 v.
+    A Broken Blossom 2 v.
+    The Root of all Evil 2 v.
+    The Fair-haired Alda 2 v.
+    With Cupid's Eyes 2 v.
+    My Sister the Actress 2 v.
+    Phyllida 2 v.
+    How They Loved Him 2 v.
+    Facing the Footlights (w. portrait) 2 v.
+    A Moment of Madness 1 v.
+    The Ghost of Charlotte Cray, etc. 1 v.
+    Peeress and Player 2 v.
+    Under the Lilies and Roses 2 v.
+    The Heart of Jane Warner 2 v.
+    The Heir Presumptive 2 v.
+
+  Mrs. Marsh:
+    Ravenscliffe 2 v.
+    Emilia Wyndham 2 v.
+    Castle Avon 2 v. Aubrey 2 v.
+    The Heiress of Haughton 2 v.
+    Evelyn Marston 2 v.
+    The Rose of Ashurst 2 v.
+
+  Emma Marshall:
+    Mrs. Mainwaring's Journal 1 v.
+    Benvenuta 1 v.
+    Lady Alice 1 v.
+    Dayspring 1 v.
+    Life's Aftermath 1 v.
+    In the East Country 1 v.
+
+  H. Mathers:
+    "Cherry Ripe!" 2 v.
+    "Land o' the Leal" 1 v.
+    My Lady Green Sleeves 2 v.
+    As he comes up the Stair, etc. 1 v.
+    Sam's Sweetheart 2 v.
+    Eyre's Acquittal 2 v.
+    Found Out 1 v.
+    Murder or Manslaughter? 1 v.
+
+  "Mehalah," Author of--
+    Mehalah 1 v.
+    John Herring 2 v.
+
+  Whyte Melville:
+    Kate Coventry 1 v.
+    Holmby House 2 v.
+    Digby Grand 1 v.
+    Good for Nothing 2 v.
+    The Queen's Maries 2 v.
+    The Gladiators 2 v.
+    The Brookes of Bridlemere 2 v.
+    Cerise 2 v.
+    The Interpreter 2 v.
+    The White Rose 2 v.
+    M. or N. 1 v.
+    Contraband; or A Losing Hazard 1 v.
+    Sarchedon 2 v.
+    Uncle John 2 v.
+    Katerfelto 1 v.
+    Sister Louise 1 v.
+    Rosine 1 v.
+    Roy's Wife 2 v.
+    Black but Comely 2 v.
+    Riding Recollections 1 v.
+
+  George Meredith:
+    The Ordeal of Feverel 2 v.
+    Beauchamp's Career 2 v.
+    The Tragic Comedians 1 v.
+
+  Owen Meredith:
+    _vide_ Robert Lord Lytton.
+
+  Milton:
+    Poetical Works 1 v.
+
+  "Miss Molly," Author of--
+    Geraldine Hawthorne 1 v.
+
+  "Molly Bawn," Author of--
+    Molly Bawn 2 v.
+    Mrs. Geoffrey 2 v.
+    Faith and Unfaith 2 v.
+    Portia 2 v.
+    Loys, Lord Berresford, etc. 1 v.
+    Her First Appearance, etc. 1 v.
+    Phyllis 2 v.
+    Rossmoyne 2 v.
+    Doris 2 v.
+    A Maiden all Forlorn, etc. 1 v.
+    A Passive Crime 1 v.
+
+  Miss Florence Montgomery:
+    Misunderstood 1 v.
+    Thrown Together 2 v.
+    Thwarted 1 v.
+    Wild Mike 1 v.
+    Seaforth 2 v.
+    The Blue Veil 1 v.
+
+  Moore:
+    Poetical Works (w. portrait) 5 v.
+
+  Lady Morgan's Memoirs 3 v.
+
+  Henry Morley:
+    Of English Literature in the Reign of Victoria. With Facsimiles of
+      the Signatures of Authors in the Tauchnitz Edition [v. 2000].
+
+  E. C. Grenville: Murray:
+    The Member for Paris 2 v.
+    Young Brown 2 v.
+    The Boudoir Cabal 3 v.
+    French Pictures in English Chalk (1st Series) 2 v.
+    The Russians of To-day 1 v.
+    French Pictures in English Chalk (2nd Series) 2 v.
+    Strange Tales 1 v.
+    That Artful Vicar 2 v.
+    Six Months in the Ranks 1 v.
+    People I have met 1 v.
+
+  "My little Lady," Author of--
+    _vide_ E. Frances Poynter.
+
+  New Testament [v. 1000].
+
+  Mrs. Newby:
+    Common Sense 2 v.
+
+  Dr. J. H. Newman:
+    Callista 1 v.
+
+  "Nina Balatka," Author of--
+    _vide_ Anthony Trollope.
+
+  "No Church," Author of--
+    No Church 2 v.
+    Owen:--a Waif 2 v.
+
+  Lady Augusta Noel:
+    From Generation to Generation 1 v.
+
+  Hon. Mrs. Norton:
+    Stuart of Dunleath 2 v.
+    Lost and Saved 2 v.
+    Old Sir Douglas 2 v.
+
+  Novels and Tales
+    _vide_ Household Words.
+
+  Not Easily Jealous 2 v.
+
+  L. Oliphant:
+    Altiora Peto 2 v.
+
+  Mrs. Oliphant:
+    Passages in the Life of Mrs. Margaret Maitland of Sunnyside 1 v.
+    The Last of the Mortimers 2 v.
+    Agnes 2 v.
+    Madonna Mary 2 v.
+    The Minister's Wife 2 v.
+    The Rector, and the Doctor's Family 1 v.
+    Salem Chapel 2 v.
+    The Perpetual Curate 2 v.
+    Miss Marjoribanks 2 v.
+    Ombra 2 v.
+    Memoir of Count de Montalembert 2 v.
+    May 2 v.
+    Innocent 2 v.
+    For Love and Life 2 v.
+    A Rose in June 1 v.
+    The Story of Valentine and his Brother 2 v.
+    Whiteladies 2 v.
+    The Curate in Charge 1 v.
+    Phoebe, Junior 2 v.
+    Mrs. Arthur 2 v.
+    Carita 2 v.
+    Young Musgrave 2 v.
+    The Primrose Path 2 v.
+    Within the Precincts 3 v.
+    The greatest Heiress in England 2 v.
+    He that will not when he may 2 v.
+    Harry Joscelyn 2 v.
+    In Trust 2 v.
+    It was a Lover and his Lass 3 v.
+    The Ladies Lindores 3 v.
+    Hester 3 v.
+    The Wizard's Son 3 v.
+
+  Ossian:
+    Poems 1 v.
+
+  Ouida:
+    Idalia 2 v.
+    Tricotrin 2 v.
+    Puck 2 v.
+    Chandos 2 v.
+    Strathmore 2 v.
+    Under two Flags 2 v.
+    Folle-Farine 2 v.
+    A Leaf in the Storm; A Dog of Flanders and other Stories 1 v.
+    Cecil Castlemaine's Gage 1 v.
+    Madame la Marquise 1 v.
+    Pascarel 2 v.
+    Held in Bondage 2 v.
+    Two little Wooden Shoes 1 v.
+    Signa (w. portrait) 3 v.
+    In a Winter City 1 v.
+    Ariadne 2 v.
+    Friendship 2 v.
+    Moths 3 v.
+    Pipistrello 1 v.
+    A Village Commune 2 v.
+    In Maremma 3 v.
+    Bimbi 1 v.
+    Wanda 3 v.
+    Frescoes, etc. 1 v.
+    Princess Napraxine 3 v.
+    A Rainy June (60 Pf.). Othmar 3 v.
+
+  Miss Parr (Holme Lee):
+    Basil Godfrey's Caprice 2 v.
+    For Richer, for Poorer 2 v.
+    The Beautiful Miss Barrington 2 v.
+    Her Title of Honour 1 v.
+    Echoes of a Famous Year 1 v.
+    Katherine's Trial 1 v.
+    Bessie Fairfax 2 v.
+    Ben Milner's Wooing 1 v.
+    Straightforward 2 v.
+    Mrs. Denys of Cote 2 v.
+    A Poor Squire 1 v.
+
+  Mrs. Parr:
+    Dorothy Fox 1 v.
+    The Prescotts of Pamphillon 2 v.
+    Gosau Smithy 1 v.
+    Robin 2 v.
+
+  "Paul Ferroll," Author of--
+    Paul Ferroll 1 v.
+    Year after Year 1 v.
+    Why Paul Ferroll killed his Wife 1 v.
+
+  James Payn:
+    Found Dead 1 v.
+    Gwendoline's Harvest 1 v.
+    Like Father, like Son 2 v.
+    Not Wooed, but Won 2 v.
+    Cecil's Tryst 1 v.
+    A Woman's Vengeance 2 v.
+    Murphy's Master 1 v.
+    In the Heart of a Hill 1 v.
+    At Her Mercy 2 v.
+    The Best of Husbands 2 v.
+    Walter's Word 2 v.
+    Halves 2 v.
+    Fallen Fortunes 2 v.
+    What He cost Her 2 v.
+    By Proxy 2 v.
+    Less Black than we're Painted 2 v.
+    Under one Roof 2 v.
+    High Spirits 1 v.
+    High Spirits (Second Series) 1 v.
+    A Confidential Agent 2 v.
+    From Exile 2 v.
+    A Grape from a Thorn 2 v.
+    Some Private Views 1 v.
+    For Cash Only 2 v.
+    Kit: A Memory 2 v.
+    The Canon's Ward 2 v.
+    Some Literary Recollections 1 v.
+    The Talk of the Town 1 v.
+    The Luck of the Darrells 2 v.
+
+  Miss Fr. M. Peard:
+    One Year 2 v.
+    The Rose-Garden 1 v.
+    Unawares 1 v.
+    Thorpe Regis 1 v.
+    A Winter Story 1 v.
+    A Madrigal 1 v.
+    Cartouche 1 v.
+    Mother Molly 1 v.
+    Schloss and Town 2 v.
+    Contradictions 2 v.
+    Near Neighbours 1 v.
+
+  Bishop Percy:
+    Reliques of Ancient English Poetry 3 v.
+
+  E. A. Poe:
+    Poems and Essays. Edited with a new Memoir by John H. Ingram 1 v.
+    Tales. Edited by John H. Ingram 1 v.
+
+  Pope:
+    Select Poetical Works (w. portrait) 1 v.
+
+  E. Frances Poynter:
+    My little Lady 2 v.
+    Ersilia 2 v.
+    Among the Hills 1 v.
+    Madame de Presnel 1 v.
+
+  Mrs. Campbell Praed:
+    Zero 1 v.
+    Affinities 1 v.
+
+  Mrs. E. Prentiss:
+    Stepping Heavenward 1 v.
+
+  The Prince Consort's Speeches and Addresses 1 v.
+
+  Horace N. Pym:
+    _vide_ C. Fox.
+
+  W. F. Rae:
+    Westward by Rail 1 v.
+
+  Charles Reade:
+    "It is never too late to mend" 2 v.
+    "Love me little love me long" 1 v.
+    The Cloister and the Hearth 2 v.
+    Hard Cash 3 v.
+    Put Yourself in his Place 2 v.
+    A Terrible Temptation 2 v.
+    Peg Woffington 1 v.
+    Christie Johnstone 1 v.
+    A Simpleton 2 v.
+    The Wandering Heir 1 v.
+    A Woman-Hater 2 v.
+    Readiana 1 v.
+    Singleheart and Doubleface 1 v.
+
+  "Recommended to Mercy," Author of--
+    Recommended to Mercy 2 v.
+    Zoe's 'Brand' 2 v.
+
+  James Rice:
+    _vide_ W. Besant.
+
+  Alfred Bate Richards:
+    So very Human 3 v.
+
+  Richardson:
+    Clarissa Harlowe 4 v.
+
+  Mrs. Riddell (F. G. Trafford):
+    George Geith of Fen Court 2 v.
+    Maxwell Drewitt 2 v.
+    The Race for Wealth 2 v.
+    Far above Rubies 2 v.
+    The Earl's Promise 2 v.
+    Mortomley's Estate 2 v.
+
+  Rev. W. Robertson:
+    Sermons 4 v.
+
+  Charles H. Ross:
+    The Pretty Widow 1 v.
+    A London Romance 2 v.
+
+  Dante Gabriel Rossetti:
+    Poems 1 v.
+    Ballads and Sonnets 1 v.
+
+  J. Ruffini:
+    Lavinia 2 v.
+    Doctor Antonio 1 v.
+    Lorenzo Benoni 1 v.
+    Vincenzo 2 v.
+    A Quiet Nook 1 v.
+    The Paragreens on a Visit to Paris 1 v.
+    Carlino and other Stories 1 v.
+
+  W. Clark Russell:
+    A Sailor's Sweetheart 2 v.
+    The "Lady Maud" 2 v.
+    A Sea Queen 2 v.
+
+  G. A. Sala:
+    The Seven Sons of Mammon 2 v.
+
+  John Saunders:
+    Israel Mort, Overman 2 v.
+    The Shipowner's Daughter 2 v.
+    A Noble Wife 2 v.
+
+  Katherine Saunders:
+    Joan Merryweather and other Tales 1 v.
+    Gideon's Rock 1 v.
+    The High Mills 2 v.
+    Sebastian 1 v.
+
+  Sir Walter Scott:
+    Waverley (w. portrait) 1 v.
+    The Antiquary 1 v.
+    Ivanhoe 1 v.
+    Kenilworth 1 v.
+    Quentin Durward 1 v.
+    Old Mortality 1 v.
+    Guy Mannering 1 v.
+    Rob Roy 1 v.
+    The Pirate 1 v.
+    The Fortunes of Nigel 1 v.
+    The Black Dwarf;
+    A Legend of Montrose 1 v.
+    The Bride of Lammermoor 1 v.
+    The Heart of Mid-Lothian 2 v.
+    The Monastery 1 v.
+    The Abbot 1 v.
+    Peveril of the Peak 2 v.
+    The Poetical Works 2 v.
+    Woodstock 1 v.
+    The Fair Maid of Perth 1 v.
+    Anne of Geierstein 1 v.
+
+  Professor Seeley:
+    Life and Times of Stein 4 v.
+    The Expansion of England 1 v.
+
+  Miss Sewell:
+    Amy Herbert 2 v.
+    Ursula 2 v.
+    A Glimpse of the World 2 v.
+    The Journal of a Home Life 2 v.
+    After Life 2 v.
+    The Experience of Life; or, Aunt Sarah 2 v.
+
+  Shakespeare:
+    Plays and Poems (with portrait) (_Second Edition_) compl. 7 v.
+    _Shakespeare's_ Plays may also be had in 37 numbers, at M. 0,30.
+      each number.
+    Doubtful Plays 1 v.
+
+  Shelley:
+    A Selection from his Poems 1 v.
+
+  Nathan Sheppard:
+    Shut up in Paris (_Second Edition, enlarged_) 1 v.
+
+  Sheridan:
+    Dramatic Works 1 v.
+
+  J. Henry Shorthouse:
+    John Inglesant 2 v.
+
+  Smollett:
+    The Adventures of Roderick Random 1 v.
+    The Expedition of Humphry Clinker 1 v.
+    The Adventures of Peregrine Pickle 2 v.
+
+  Society in London. By a Foreign Resident 1 v.
+
+  Earl Stanhope (Lord Mahon):
+    History of England 7 v.
+    The Reign of Queen Anne 2 v.
+
+  Sterne:
+    The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy 1 v.
+    A Sentimental Journey (w. portrait) 1 v.
+
+  Robert Louis Stevenson:
+    Treasure Island 1 v.
+
+  "Still Waters," Author of--
+    Still Waters 1 v.
+    Dorothy 1 v.
+    De Cressy 1 v.
+    Uncle Ralph 1 v.
+    Maiden Sisters 1 v.
+    Martha Brown 1 v.
+    Vanessa 1 v.
+
+  M. C. Stirling:
+    Two Tales of Married Life 2 v.
+    Vol. II, A True Man,
+    Vol. I. _vide_ G. M. Craik.
+
+  "The Story of Elizabeth," Author of--
+    _v_. Miss Thackeray.
+
+  Mrs. H. Beecher Stowe:
+    Uncle Tom's Cabin (w. portrait) 2 v.
+    A Key to Uncle Tom's Cabin 2 v.
+    Dred 2 v.
+    The Minister's Wooing 1 v.
+    Oldtown Folks 2 v.
+
+  "Sunbeam Stories," Author of--
+    _vide_ Mackarness.
+
+  Swift:
+    Gulliver's Travels 1 v.
+
+  J. A. Symonds:
+    Sketches in Italy 1 v.
+    New Italian Sketches 1 v.
+
+  Baroness Tautphoeus:
+    Cyrilla 2 v.
+    The Initials 2 v.
+    Quits 2 v.
+    At Odds 2 v.
+
+  Colonel Meadows Taylor:
+    Tara: a Mahratta Tale 3 v.
+
+  Templeton:
+    Diary & Notes 1 v.
+
+  Lord Tennyson:
+    Poetical Works 7 v.
+    Queen Mary 1 v.
+    Harold 1 v.
+    Ballads and other Poems 1 v.
+    Becket; The Cup; The Falcon 1 v.
+
+  W. M. Thackeray:
+    Vanity Fair 3 v.
+    The History of Pendennis 3 v.
+    Miscellanies 8 v.
+    The History of Henry Esmond 2 v.
+    The English Humourists 1 v.
+    The Newcomes 4 v.
+    The Virginians 4 v.
+    The Four Georges;
+    Lovel the Widower 1 v.
+    The Adventures of Philip 2 v.
+    Denis Duval 1 v.
+    Roundabout Papers 2 v.
+    Catherine 1 v.
+    The Irish Sketch Book 2 v.
+    The Paris Sketch Book (w. portrait) 2 v.
+
+  Miss Thackeray:
+    The Story of Elizabeth 1 v.
+    The Village on the Cliff 1 v.
+    Old Kensington 2 v.
+    Bluebeard's Keys 1 v.
+    Five Old Friends 1 v.
+    Miss Angel 1 v.
+    Out of the World 1 v.
+    Fulham Lawn 1 v.
+    From an Island 1 v.
+    Da Capo 1 v.
+    Madame de Sevigne 1 v.
+    A Book of Sibyls 1 v.
+
+  Thomas a Kempis:
+    The Imitation of Christ 1 v.
+
+  A. Thomas:
+    Denis Donne 2 v.
+    On Guard 2 v.
+    Walter Goring 2 v.
+    Played out 2 v.
+    Called to Account 2 v.
+    Only Herself 2 v.
+    A narrow Escape 2 v.
+
+  Thomson:
+    Poetical Works (with portrait) 1 v.
+
+  F. G. Trafford:
+    _vide_ Mrs. Riddell.
+
+  G. O. Trevelyan:
+    The Life and Letters of Lord Macaulay (w. portrait) 4 v.
+    Selections from the Writings of Lord Macaulay 2 v.
+
+  Trois-Etoiles:
+    _vide_ Murray.
+
+  Anthony Trollope:
+    Doctor Thorne 2 v.
+    The Bertrams 2 v.
+    The Warden 1 v.
+    Barchester Towers 2 v.
+    Castle Richmond 2 v.
+    The West Indies 1 v.
+    Framley Parsonage 2 v.
+    North America 3 v.
+    Orley Farm 3 v.
+    Rachel Ray 2 v.
+    The Small House at Allington 3 v.
+    Can you forgive her? 3 v.
+    The Belton Estate 2 v.
+    Nina Balatka 1 v.
+    The Last Chronicle of Barset 3 v.
+    The Claverings 2 v.
+    Phineas Finn 3 v.
+    He knew he was Right 3 v.
+    The Vicar of Bullhampton 2 v.
+    Sir Harry Hotspur of Humblethwaite 1 v.
+    Ralph the Heir 2 v.
+    The Golden Lion of Granpere 1 v.
+    Australia and New Zealand 3 v.
+    Lady Anna 2 v.
+    Harry Heathcote of Gangoil 1 v.
+    The Way we live now 4 v.
+    The Prime Minister 4 v.
+    The American Senator 3 v.
+    South Africa 2 v.
+    Is he Popenjoy? 3 v.
+    An Eye for an Eye 1 v.
+    John Caldigate 3 v.
+    Cousin Henry 1 v.
+    The Duke's Children 3 v.
+    Dr. Wortle's School 1 v.
+    Ayala's Angel 3 v.
+    The Fixed Period 1 v.
+    Marion Fay 2 v.
+    Kept in the Dark 1 v.
+    Frau Frohmann, etc. 1 v.
+    Alice Dugdale, etc. 1 v.
+    La Mere Bauche, etc. 1 v.
+    The Mistletoe Bough, etc. 1 v.
+    An Autobiography 1 v.
+    An Old Man's Love 1 v.
+
+  T. Adolphus Trollope:
+    The Garstangs of Garstang Grange 2 v.
+    A Siren 2 v.
+
+  The Two Cosmos 1 v.
+
+  "Vera," Author of--
+    Vera 1 v.
+    The Hotel du Petit St. Jean 1 v.
+    Blue Roses 2 v.
+    Within Sound of the Sea 2 v.
+    The Maritime Alps and their Seaboard 2 v.
+
+  Victoria R. I.:
+    _vide_ Leaves.
+
+  Virginia 1 v.
+
+  L. B. Walford:
+    Mr. Smith 2 v.
+    Pauline 2 v.
+    Cousins 2 v.
+    Troublesome Daughters 2 v.
+
+  Mackenzie Wallace:
+    Russia 3 v.
+
+  Eliot Warburton:
+    The Crescent and the Cross 2 v.
+    Darien 2 v.
+
+  S. Warren:
+    Passages from the Diary of a late Physician 2 v.
+    Ten Thousand a-Year 3 v.
+    Now and Then 1 v.
+    The Lily and the Bee 1 v.
+
+  "Waterdale Neighbours," Author of--
+    _vide_ Justin McCarthy.
+
+  Miss Wetherell:
+    The wide, wide World 1 v.
+    Queechy 2 v.
+    The Hills of the Shatemuc 2 v.
+    Say and Seal 2 v.
+    The Old Helmet 2 v.
+
+  A Whim and its Consequences 1 v.
+
+  W. White: Holidays in Tyrol 1 v.
+
+  "Who Breaks--Pays," Author of--
+    _vide_ Mrs. Jenkin.
+
+  J. S. Winter:
+    Regimental Legends 1 v.
+
+  Mrs. Henry Wood:
+    East Lynne 3 v.
+    The Channings 2 v.
+    Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles 2 v.
+    Verner's Pride 3 v.
+    The Shadow of Ashlydyat 3 v.
+    Trevlyn Hold 2 v.
+    Lord Oakburn's Daughters 2 v.
+    Oswald Cray 2 v.
+    Mildred Arkell 2 v.
+    St. Martin's Eve 2 v.
+    Elster's Folly 2 v.
+    Lady Adelaide's Oath 2 v.
+    Orville College 1 v.
+    A Life's Secret 1 v.
+    The Red Court Farm 2 v.
+    Anne Hereford 2 v.
+    Roland Yorke 2 v.
+    George Canterbury's Will 2 v.
+    Bessy Rane 2 v.
+    Dene Hollow 2 v.
+    The Foggy Night at Offord, etc. 1 v.
+    Within the Maze 2 v.
+    The Master of Greylands 2 v.
+    Johnny Ludlow (_First Series_) 2 v.
+    Told in the Twilight 2 v.
+    Adam Grainger 1 v.
+    Edina 2 v.
+    Pomeroy Abbey 2 v.
+    Lost in the Post, etc. By Johnny Ludlow 1 v.
+    A Tale of Sin, etc. By Johnny Ludlow 1 v.
+    Anne, etc. By Johnny Ludlow 1 v.
+    Court Netherleigh 2 v.
+    The Mystery of Jessy Page, etc. By Johnny Ludlow 1 v.
+    Helen Whitney's Wedding, etc. By Johnny Ludlow 1 v.
+    The Story of Dorothy Grape, etc. By Johnny Ludlow 1 v.
+
+  Wordsworth:
+    Select Poetical Works 2 v.
+
+  Lascelles Wraxall:
+    Wild Oats 1 v.
+
+  Edm. Yates:
+    Land at Last 2 v.
+    Broken to Harness 2 v.
+    The Forlorn Hope 2 v.
+    Black Sheep 2 v.
+    The Rock Ahead 2 v.
+    Wrecked in Port 2 v.
+    Dr. Wainwright's Patient 2 v.
+    Nobody's Fortune 2 v.
+    Castaway 2 v.
+    A Waiting Race 2 v.
+    The Yellow Flag 2 v.
+    The Impending Sword 2 v.
+    Two, by Tricks 1 v.
+    A Silent Witness 2 v.
+    Recollections and Experiences 2 v.
+
+  Miss Yonge:
+    The Heir of Redclyffe 2 v.
+    Heartsease 2 v.
+    The Daisy Chain 2 v.
+    Dynevor Terrace 2 v.
+    Hopes and Fears 2 v.
+    The Young Step-Mother 2 v.
+    The Trial 2 v.
+    The Clever Woman of the Family 2 v.
+    The Dove in the Eagle's Nest 2 v.
+    The Danvers Papers;
+    the Prince and the Page 1 v.
+    The Chaplet of Pearls 2 v.
+    The two Guardians 1 v.
+    The Caged Lion 2 v.
+    The Pillars of the House 5 v.
+    Lady Hester 1 v.
+    My Young Alcides 2 v.
+    The Three Brides 2 v.
+    Womankind 2 v.
+    Magnum Bonum 2 v.
+    Love and Life 1 v.
+    Unknown to History 2 v.
+    Stray Pearls (w. portrait) 2 v.
+    The Armourer's Prentices 2 v.
+    The two Sides of the Shield 2 v.
+
+  _The price of each volume is 1 Mark 60 Pfennige._
+
+
+
+
+  Collection of German Authors.
+
+
+  B. Auerbach:
+    On the Heights. Transl. by F. E. Bunnett. Second Authorized Edition,
+      thoroughly revised, 3 v.
+    Brigitta. From the German by C. Bell, 1 v.
+    Spinoza. From the German by Nicholson, 2 v.
+
+  G. Ebers:
+    An Egyptian Princess. Translated by E. Grove, 2 v.
+    Uarda. From the German by Bell, 2 v.
+    Homo Sum. From the German by Bell, 2 v.
+    The Sisters. From the German by Bell, 2 v.
+
+  Fouque:
+    Undine, Sintram, etc. Translated by F. E. Bunnett, 1 v.
+
+  Ferdinand Freiligrath:
+    Poems. From the German. Edited by his Daughter. Second Copyright
+      Edition, enlarged, 1 v.
+
+  W. Goerlach:
+    Prince Bismarck (with Portrait). From the German
+      by Miss M. E. von Glehn, 1 v.
+
+  Goethe:
+    Faust. From the German by John Anster, LL.D. 1 v.
+    Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship. From the German by Eleanor
+    Grove, 2 v.
+
+  K. Gutzkow:
+    Through Night to Light. From the German by M. A. Faber, 1 v.
+
+  F. W. Hacklaender:
+    Behind the Counter [Handel u. Wandel]. From the German by Howitt, 1 v.
+
+  W. Hauff:
+    Three Tales. From the German by M. A. Faber, 1 v.
+
+  P. Heyse:
+    L'Arrabiata and other Tales. From the German by M. Wilson, 1 v.
+    The Dead Lake and other Tales. From the German by Mary Wilson, 1 v.
+    Barbarossa and other Tales. From the German by L. C. S., 1 v.
+
+  Wilhelmine von Hillern:
+    The Vulture Maiden [die Geier-Wally]. From the German by C. Bell
+      and E. F. Poynter, 1 v.
+    The Hour will come. From the German by Clara Bell, 2 v.
+
+  S. Kohn:
+    Gabriel. A Story of the Jews in Prague. From the German
+      by A. Milman, M.A., 1 v.
+
+  G. E. Lessing:
+    Nathan the Wise and Emilia Galotti. The former transl. by W. Taylor,
+      the latter by Chas. Lee Lewes, 1 v.
+
+  Fanny Lewald:
+    Stella. From the German by Beatrice Marshall, 2 v.
+
+  E. Marlitt:
+    The Princess of the Moor [das Haideprinzesschen], 2 v.
+
+  Maria Nathusius:
+    Joachim von Kamern and Diary of a poor young Lady. From the German
+      by Miss Thompson, 1 v.
+
+  Fritz Reuter:
+    In the Year '13: Transl. from the Platt-Deutsch by Chas.
+    Lee Lewes, 1 v.
+    An old Story of my Farming Days [Ut mine Stromtid]. From
+    the German
+      by M. W. Macdowall, 3 v.
+
+  Jean Paul Friedr. Richter:
+    Flower, Fruit and Thorn Pieces: or the Married Life, Death,
+      and Wedding of the Advocate of the Poor, Firmian Stanislaus
+      Siebenkaes.
+        Translated from the German by E. H. Noel, 2 v.
+
+  J. V. Scheffel:
+    Ekkehard. A Tale of the tenth Century. Translated from the German
+      by Sofie Delffs, 2 v.
+
+  G. Taylor:
+    Klytia. From the German by Sutton Fraser Corkran, 2 v.
+
+  H. Zschokke:
+    The Princess of Brunswick-Wolfenbuettel and other Tales. From
+    the German
+      by M. A. Faber, 1 v.
+
+  _The price of each volume is 1 Mark 60 Pfennige._
+
+
+
+
+  Series for the Young.--_Each volume 1 Mark 60 Pf_.
+
+
+  Lady Barker:
+    Stories About. With Frontispiece, 1 v.
+
+  Louisa Charlesworth:
+    Ministering Children. With Frontispiece, 1 v.
+
+  Mrs. Craik (Miss Mulock):
+    Our Year. Illustrated by C. Dobell, 1 v.
+    Three Tales for Boys. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.
+    Three Tales for Girls. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.
+
+  Miss G. M. Craik:
+    Cousin Trix. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.
+
+  Maria Edgeworth:
+    Moral Tales. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.
+    Popular Tales. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 2 v.
+
+  Bridget & Julia Kavanagh:
+    The Pearl Fountain. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.
+
+  Charles and Mary Lamb:
+    Tales from Shakspeare. With the Portrait of Shakspeare, 1 v.
+
+  Emma Marshall:
+    Rex and Regina; or, The Song of the River. With six Illustrations,
+      1 vol.
+
+  Captain Marryat:
+    Masterman Ready; or, the Wreck of the Pacific. With Frontispiece, 1 v.
+
+  Florence Montgomery:
+    The Town-Crier; to which is added:
+    The Children with the Indian-Rubber Ball, 1 v.
+
+  Ruth and her Friends.
+    A Story for Girls. With Frontispiece, 1 v.
+
+  Mrs. Henry Wood:
+    William Allair; or, Running away to Sea. Frontispiece from a Drawing
+      by F. Gilbert, 1 v.
+
+  Miss Yonge:
+    Kenneth; or, the Rear-Guard of the Grand Army. With Frontispiece, 1 v.
+    The Little Duke. Ben Sylvester's Word. With a Frontispiece
+      by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.
+    The Stokesley Secret. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.
+    Countess Kate. With Frontispiece, 1 v.
+    A Book of Golden Deeds. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 2 v.
+    Friarswood Post-Office. With Frontispiece, 1 v.
+    Henrietta's Wish; or, Domineering. A Tale. With a Frontispiece
+      by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.
+    Kings of England: A History for the Young. With Frontispiece, 1 v.
+    The Lances of Lynwood; the Pigeon Pie. With Frontispiece, 1 v.
+    P's and Q's. With Frontispiece, 1 v.
+    Aunt Charlotte's Stories of English History. With Frontispiece, 1 v.
+    Bye-Words. With a Frontispiece by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.
+    Lads and Lasses of Langley; Sowing and Sewing. With a Frontispiece
+      by B. Plockhorst, 1 v.
+
+
+
+
+  Tauchnitz Manuals of Conversation.
+
+  _Each bound M 2,25._
+
+
+  Neues Handbuch der _Englischen_ Conversationssprache von _A. Schlessing_.
+
+  A new Manual of the _German_ Language of Conversation by _A. Schlessing_.
+
+  Neues Handbuch der _Franzoesischen_ Conversationssprache von _L. Rollin_.
+
+  Nouveau Manuel de la Conversation _Allemande_ par MM. _L. Rollin_ et
+    _Wolfgang Weber_.
+
+
+
+
+  Tauchnitz Dictionaries.
+
+
+A complete Dictionary of the English and German languages
+for general use. By _W. James_. Thirtieth Stereotype Edition.
+crown 8vo sewed Mark 4,50.
+
+A complete Dictionary of the English and French languages
+for general use. By _W. James_ and _A. Mole_. Thirteenth
+Stereotype Edition. crown 8vo sewed Mark 6,00.
+
+A complete Dictionary of the English and Italian languages
+for general use. By _W. James_ and _Gius. Grassi_. Ninth
+Stereotype Edition. crown 8vo sewed Mark 5,00.
+
+A New Pocket Dictionary of the English and German
+languages. By _J. E. Wessely_. Twelfth Stereotype Edition.
+16mo sewed Mark 1,50. bound Mark 2,25.
+
+A New Pocket Dictionary of the English and French
+languages. By _J. E. Wessely_. Twelfth Stereotype Edition.
+16mo sewed Mark 1,50. bound Mark 2,25.
+
+A New Pocket Dictionary of the English and Italian
+languages. By _J. E. Wessely_. Tenth Stereotype Edition.
+16mo sewed Mark 1,50. bound Mark 2,25.
+
+A New Pocket Dictionary of the English and Spanish
+languages. By _J. E. Wessely_ and _A. Girones_. Ninth Stereotype
+Edition. 16mo sewed Mark 1,50. bound Mark 2,25.
+
+A New Pocket Dictionary of the French and German
+languages. By _J. E. Wessely_. Third Stereotype Edition.
+16mo sewed Mark 1,50. bound Mark 2,25.
+
+A New Pocket Dictionary of the Italian and German
+languages. By _G. Locella_. Third Stereotype Edition. 16mo
+sewed Mark 1,50. bound Mark 2,25.
+
+A New Dictionary of the Latin and English languages.
+Fifth Stereot. Ed. 16mo sewed Mark 1,50. bound Mark 2,25.
+
+A New Pocket Dictionary of the French and Spanish
+languages. By _L. Tolhausen_. Stereotype Edition. 16mo sewed
+Mark 1,50. bound Mark 2,25.
+
+Technological Dictionary in the French, English and
+German languages by _A._ and _L. Tolhausen_. Complete in three
+Parts, crown 8vo sewed Mark 26,50. Each Part separately:
+_French_, _German_, _English_ [Third Edition, with a grand Supplement]
+Mark 9,50. (Grand Supplement separate Mark 1,50.)
+_English_, _German_, _French_ [Third Edition, with a grand Supplement]
+Mark 9,00. (Grand Supplement separate Mark 1,00.)
+_German_, _English_, _French_ [Second Edition] Mark 8,00.
+
+A Hebrew and Chaldee Lexicon to the Old Testament.
+By Dr. _Julius Fuerst_. Fifth Edition. Translated from the
+German by _Samuel Davidson_. Royal 8vo sewed Mark 19,00.
+
+No orders of private purchasers are executed by the publisher.
+
+
+  BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ, LEIPZIG.
+
+
+
+
+  January 1886.
+
+  Tauchnitz Edition.
+
+  Forthcoming Volumes:
+
+
+A new Novel. By Rhoda Broughton, Author of "Cometh up as a Flower."
+
+Don Gesualdo. A new Story. By Ouida.
+
+Green Pleasure and Grey Grief. A new Novel. By the Author of "Molly Bawn."
+
+Rainbow Gold. A new Novel. By D. Christie Murray.
+
+White Heather. A new Novel. By William Black.
+
+Mrs. Dymond. A new Novel. By Miss Thackeray.
+
+A Perilous Life. A new Novel. By Charles Reade.
+
+A new Novel. By Mrs. Oliphant.
+
+The Biography of Lord Lytton. By his Son, the Earl of Lytton.
+
+Allerton Towers. A new Novel. By Miss Annie Thomas.
+
+Miss Vandeleur. A new Novel. By John Saunders.
+
+Fortune's Fool. A new Novel. By Julian Hawthorne.
+
+Saint Mungo's City. A new Novel. By Sarah Tytler.
+
+Nuttie's Father. A new Novel. By Miss Yonge, Author of "The Heir of
+  Redclyffe."
+
+No. XIII; or, The Story of the Lost Vestal. A new Novel.
+By Emma Marshall.
+
+
+  A complete Catalogue of the Tauchnitz Edition is attached to this work.
+
+
+  Bernhard Tauchnitz, Leipzig;
+
+  And sold by all booksellers.
+
+
+
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's note:
+
+  Hyphenation, spelling and grammar have been preserved as in
+    the original.
+
+  Three pages of handwriting at front were not easily read and
+    there might be errors in transcription.
+
+  Page 72, "Lilybaeaum" changed to "Lilybaeum"
+
+  Page 149, "Golden, und gleaming" changed to "Golden, and gleaming"
+
+  Page 279, "turned aud beheld" changed to "turned and beheld"
+
+
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