Now grew unto man in the Low Land the child of a line world-famed. For Siegmund the King begat him, his mother was Siegelind named,
In a tower-engirdled stronghold renowned through the earth afar,
Where the Rhine and the sea meet: Xanten men named that burg of war.
{p. 4}
Now telleth the tale of a hero, how fair and stately he grew,
How the shield of his heart was honour, nor taint of shame he knew,
How shone the star of his glory, how strong was that fearless lord:—
Ho for the harvest of honour that earth’s field gave to his sword!
And his far-sung name was Siegfried, the name of a noble Knight;
And he proved in his strength great-hearted full many a champion’s might,
And through many a strange land cleft he a path by his own right hand:—
Ho for the fiery warriors he found in Burgundia-land!
(C) Or ever this valiant champion to man was fully grown,
By deeds of such marvellous prowess had the might of his hands been shown
That the minstrel’s voice and the harpstrings rang ever with his praise:
Not a tithe thereof is remembered in these the latter days.
But the noontide of his glory, but the spring of his goodlihead—
How marvelled the world at his story, what things were of Siegfried said,
How bloomed as a bower his honour, how goodly he was to behold,
How dreamed of his love fair women, how their eyes the heart’s dream told!
As beseems that a hero be fostered was he nurtured with diligent heed;
But his own heart still was a wellspring of faith and of knightly deed,
That by him was the land of his father as with gold of a diadem crowned,
For in all the deeds of kingfolk all-kingly was he found.
And by this so great was he waxen that to halls of kings must he fare:
Glad-faced did the earls look on him, and dame and damsel there
Sore longed to behold him wending thitherward evermore,
And their eyes unto his shone welcome, and he knew the love they bore.
Ever that child of princes rode girt by a henchman-ring,
And in lovely-woven raiment of his mother’s fashioning;
And the wise and the lessoned in honour must teach him their lore, as one
For whom there waited a kingdom and a nation’s heart to be won.
So waxed he to strength of manhood, till sword and shield he swayed,
And in goodliest harness of battle were his mighty limbs arrayed.
Then his thoughts after fair dream-faces of maids flew questing wide—
And O for the bliss and the honour of her that should be his bride!
{p. 5}
Then sent King Siegmund the bidding-word to his vassals all,
And to all friends loyal-hearted, for a high-tide festival;
And the tale thereof into kingdoms of other lords they bare
With gifts for the friend and the stranger, even steeds and raiment fair.
Wheresoever a strong young warrior high-born longed sore for the day
That should bring to him knighthood’s golden spurs, all such bade they
To come to the land of Siegmund, to Siegfried’s festal tide,
To be girt with the sword of knighthood, standing by Siegfried’s side.
Long shall men sing of the wonder of that crown of festal days,
How Siegmund and Siegelind won them the treasure-giver’s praise
For the gifts of cost uncounted that they gave with stintless hand,
How the rumour thereof drew strangers from afar into Siegmund’s land.
Came thither squires four hundred in knighthood’s vesture to be
Arrayed with the young prince Siegfried; and maidens comely to see
Sat fashioning goodly raiment, and their love with the threads was enwound,
As they laid the priceless gemstones thereon with the gold set round,
As their broidery-work on the robe-hems gleamed fair in coil on coil
For the strong young knights high-hearted—they were worthy the love-sped toil.
And the King bade dight the high-seats for the guests, for the thanes of pride,
At the feast of the knighting of Siegfried in the heart of the summer-tide.
Then fared they on to the minster, young squires of high degree
And noble knights full many; and in proud humility
Did the elder serve the younger, by the law that from old time came.
On their lips was mirth and laughter, in their eyes the hope of fame.
When they chanted the Mass to the honour of God in the highest height,
The mighty throngs surged inward to gaze on that gallant sight,
When after the ancient custom those squires with spur and brand
Were arrayed, and with honour never since seen in any land.
Then hasted they where harnessed were the steeds abiding their lords:
Then rose in the lists of Siegmund the clash of spears and swords:
Then the halls of the palace re-echoed, as in joyous combat they crashed,
When the mighty-hearted champions forth to the onset flashed.
{p. 6}
From old knight and young warrior the clash and the clang rose high:
The splintered spear-shafts flying leapt up to the laughing sky,
The shards of the lances upsoaring to the roof of the palace-hall.
And the earls and the high-born ladies sat throned beholding all.
Then the King bade stay the combat, and they led the war-steeds thence,
From the field wide-strewn with the strong shields, the brave heart’s rifted fence,
Strewn with the costly gemstones wherewith was the grass bestarred
From the glittering shield-bands fallen in the grapple bitter-hard.
Then sat those guests in the feast-hall in their own ordained high-seats;
And the war-toil’s ache was banished like a dream by the goodly meats
And the wines of noble vintage that flowed as a fountain free.
There homeland guest and stranger had honour plenteously.
In gentle sports and joyous had they worn the long day out;
And now the song of the minstrels through the feast-hall went about;
And their singing had goodly guerdon of the ever-bounteous hand,
And their praise was a crown of glory upon all King Siegmund’s land.
Then the King bade Siegfried deliver in fee to his vassals true
Broad lands and stately castles, as himself had been wont to do.
And he gave with hand ungrudging to his fellows of the sword,
That their hearts were glad for his presence, for their coming thitherward.
So the feast sped on and the mirth-tide, till they saw the seventh sun rise;
And all in the olden fashion did the Queen give gifts of price;
Red gold for the love of Siegfried, and in Siegfried’s name she gave.
That to him as the giver of bounty the hearts of all men clave.
Not a wandering bard thereafter in need in the land abode:
Steeds, raiment on these were showered as though with gifts it snowed,
As though there should come no morrow, and men’s lives lack nothing more:
Never were palace-stewards that lavished so of their store.
So filled with the winning of honour that feast-tide fleeted by,
That whiles one heard the earl-folk each unto other cry:
“Well were we if but Prince Siegfried in his father’s stead were our lord!”
But a grief unto him was their longing, and his true heart loathed the word.
{p. 7}
While endured the days of Siegmund and Siegelind, their son
Siegfried, the loved and the loving, would in no wise sit on the throne.
But he yearned in his fearless spirit to break the oppressor’s yoke,
And to rid of the fear of the spoiler the hearth of the lowly folk.
(C) No man might make him a mocking: since first the sword he drew,
The praise of the brave was his lodestar; but little rest he knew:
Ever he wooed war-perils, and his battle-triumphant hand
Bare the banner of his glory through many a far-off land.