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.