Of the Dream of Gudrun the Daughter of Giuki148
How the folk of Lymdale met Sigurd the Volsung in the woodland158
How Sigurd met Brynhild in Lymdale162
Of Sigurd's riding to the Niblungs168
Of Sigurd's warfaring in the company of the Niblungs, and of his great fame and glory177
Of the Cup of evil drink that Grimhild the Wise-wife gave to Sigurd184
Of the Wedding of Sigurd the Volsung195
Sigurd rideth with the Niblungs, and wooeth Brynhild for King Gunnar204
How Brynhild was wedded to Gunnar the Niblung221
Of the Contention betwixt the Queens228
Gunnar talketh with Brynhild240
Of the exceeding great grief and mourning of Brynhild245
Of the slaying of Sigurd the Volsung252
Of the mighty Grief of Gudrun over Sigurd dead262
Of the passing away of Brynhild268
Book IV.
GUDRUN.
King Atli wooeth and weddeth Gudrun276
Atli biddeth the Niblungs to him287
How the Niblungs fare to the Land of King Atli297
Atli speaketh with the Niblungs309
Of the Battle in Atli's Hall316
Of the Slaying of the Niblung Kings323
The Ending of Gudrun338
THE STORY OF SIGURD THE VOLSUNG AND THE FALL OF THE NIBLUNGS.
BOOK I.
SIGMUND.
in this book is told of the earlier days of the volsungs, and of sigmund the father of sigurd, and of his deeds, and of how he died while sigurd was yet unborn in his mother's womb.
Of the dwelling of King Volsung, and the wedding of Signy his daughter.
There was a dwelling of Kings ere the world was waxen old;
Dukes were the door-wards there, and the roofs were thatched with gold;
Earls were the wrights that wrought it, and silver nailed its doors;
Earls' wives were the weaving-women, queens' daughters strewed its floors,
And the masters of its song-craft were the mightiest men that cast
The sails of the storm of battle adown the bickering blast.
There dwelt men merry-hearted, and in hope exceeding great
Met the good days and the evil as they went the way of fate:
There the Gods were unforgotten, yea whiles they walked with men.
Though e'en in that world's beginning rose a murmur now and again
Of the midward time and the fading and the last of the latter days,
And the entering in of the terror, and the death of the People's Praise.
Thus was the dwelling of Volsung, the King of the Midworld's Mark,
As a rose in the winter season, a candle in the dark;
And as in all other matters 'twas all earthly houses' crown,
And the least of its wall-hung shields was a battle-world's renown,
So therein withal was a marvel and a glorious thing to see,
For amidst of its midmost hall-floor sprang up a mighty tree,
That reared its blessings roofward, and wreathed the roof-tree dear
With the glory of the summer and the garland of the year.
I know not how they called it ere Volsung changed his life,
But his dawning of fair promise, and his noontide of the strife,
His eve of the battle-reaping and the garnering of his fame,
Have bred us many a story and named us many a name;
And when men tell of Volsung, they call that war-duke's tree,
That crownèd stem, the Branstock; and so was it told unto me.
So there was the throne of Volsung beneath its blossoming bower.
But high o'er the roof-crest red it rose 'twixt tower and tower,
And therein were the wild hawks dwelling, abiding the dole of their lord;
And they wailed high over the wine, and laughed to the waking sword.
Still were its boughs but for them, when lo on an even of May
Comes a man from Siggeir the King with a word for his mouth to say:
"All hail to thee King Volsung, from the King of the Goths I come:
He hath heard of thy sword victorious and thine abundant home;
