Read Ebook: The Collected Works of Henrik Ibsen Vol. 02 (of 11) by Ibsen Henrik Archer William Editor
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DAGNY.
But needs must thou; honourable men were thy sons, one and all; a song must be made of them, and that can none of our kin but thou.
?RNULF.
SIGURD.
Meseems it is but meet; thou must e'en do as she says.
DAGNY.
Thy neighbours in Iceland will deem it ill done when the grave-ale is drunk over ?rnulf's children, and there is no song to sing with it. Thou hast ever time enough to follow thy sons.
?RNULF.
Well well, I will try it; and thou, Dagny, give heed, that afterwards thou mayst carve the song on staves.
Bragi's gift is bitter when the heart is broken; sorrow-laden singer, singing, suffers sorely.
Natheless, since the Skald-god gave me skill in song-craft, in a lay loud-ringing be my loss lamented! and wrathful wrecked my life and ravaged, wiled away my welfare, wasted ?rnulf's treasure.
Sons had ?rnulf seven, by the great gods granted;-- lonely now and life-sick goes the greybeard, sonless.
Seven sons so stately, bred among the sword-blades, made a mighty bulwark round the snow-locked sea-king.
Levelled lies the bulwark, dead my sons strong-hearted; gone the greybeard's gladness, desolate his dwelling.
Thorolf,--thou my last-born! 'Mongst the bold the boldest! Soon were spent my sorrow so but thou wert left me!
Fair thou wast as springtide, fond towards thy father, waxing straight and stalwart to so wight a warrior.
Dark and drear his death-wound leaves my life's lone evening; grief hath gripped my bosom as 'twixt hurtling targes.
Nought the Norn denied me of her rueful riches, showering woes unstinted over ?rnulf's world-way.
Nought, I said? Nay, truly, somewhat still is ?rnulf's, since of Suttung's mead-horn he betimes drank deeply. Follow me to the supper-board, lads; heavy has been our day's work!
Wilt thou not go in?
SIGURD.
Nay, I list not to. Tell me, are all things ready for to-morrow?
DAGNY.
They are ready; a silk-sewn shroud lies on the bench; but I know full surely that thou wilt hold thee against Gunnar, so I have not wept over it.
SIGURD.
Grant all good powers, that thou mayst never weep for my sake.
There will fall hard hailstones in that storm. Who comes?
K?RE THE PEASANT.
Folk thou wotst of, Sigurd Viking!
SIGURD.
Whither would ye?
K?RE.
To Gunnar's hall.
SIGURD.
As foemen?
K?RE.
Ay, trust me for that! Thou didst hinder me before; but now I ween thou wilt scarce do the like.
SIGURD.
Maybe not.
K?RE.
I have heard of thy challenge to Gunnar; but if things go to my mind, weak will be his weapons when the time comes for your meeting.
SIGURD.
'Tis venturesome work thou goest about; take heed for thyself, Peasant!
K?RE.
Leave that to me; wouldst thou tackle thy ship to-night, we will see that thou hast light enow!--Come, all my men; here goes the way.
Up from the board, ?rnulf; take vengeance on K?re the Peasant.
?RNULF.
K?re the Peasant--where is he?
SIGURD.
He is making for Gunnar's hall to burn it over their heads.
?RNULF.
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