And the flame that the foemen quickened hath died out far aloof.

Ye gleanings of the battle, lift up your hearts on high,

For the House of the War-wise Wolfings and the Folk undoomed to die.

But ye kindreds of the Markmen, the Wolfing guests are ye,

And to-night we hold the high-tide, and great shall the feasting be,

For to-day by the road that we know not a many wend their ways

To the Gods and the ancient Fathers, and the hope of the latter days.

And how shall their feet be cumbered if we tangle them with woe,

And the heavy rain of sorrow drift o’er the road they go?

They have toiled, and their toil was troublous to make the days to come;

Use ye their gifts in gladness, lest they grieve for the Ancient Home!

Now are our maids arraying that fire-scorched Hall of ours

With the treasure of the Wolfings and the wealth of summer flowers,

And this eve the work before you will be the Hall to throng

And purge its walls of sorrow and quench its scathe and wrong.”

  She looked on the dead Thiodolf a moment, and then glanced from him to Otter and spake again:

  “O kindreds, here before you two mighty bodies lie;

Henceforth no man shall see them in house and field go by

As we were used to behold them, familiar to us then

As the wind beneath the heavens and the sun that shines on men;

Now soon shall there be nothing of their dwelling-place to tell,

Save the billow of the meadows, the flower-grown grassy swell!

Now therefore, O ye kindreds, if amidst you there be one

Who hath known the heart of the War-dukes, and the deeds their hands have done,

Will not the word be with him, while yet your hearts are hot,

Of our praise and long remembrance, and our love that dieth not?

Then let him come up hither and speak the latest word

O’er the limbs of the battle-weary and the hearts outworn with the sword.”

  She held her peace, and there was a stir in the ring of men: for they who were anigh the Dayling banner saw an old warrior sitting on a great black horse and fully armed.  He got slowly off his horse and walked toward the ring of warriors, which opened before him; for all knew him for Asmund the old, the war-wise warrior of the Daylings, even he who had lamented over the Hauberk of Thiodolf.  He had taken horse the day before, and had ridden toward the battle, but was belated, and had come up with them of the wain-burg just as they had crossed the water.

  CHAPTER XXXI—OLD ASMUND SPEAKETH OVER THE WAR-DUKES: THE DEAD ARE LAID IN MOUND

  Now while all looked on, he went to the place where lay the bodies of the War-dukes, and looked down on the face of Otter and said:

  “O Otter, there thou liest! and thou that I knew of old,

When my beard began to whiten, as the best of the keen and the bold,

And thou wert as my youngest brother, and thou didst lead my sons

When we fared forth over the mountains to meet the arrowy Huns,

And I smiled to see thee teaching the lore that I learned thee erst.

O Otter, dost thou remember how the Goth-folk came by the worst,

And with thee in mine arms I waded the wide shaft-harrowed flood

That lapped the feet of the mountains with its water blent with blood;

And how in the hollow places of the mountains hidden away

We abode the kindreds’ coming as the wet night bideth day?

Dost thou remember, Otter, how many a joy we had,

How many a grief remembered has made our high-tide glad?

O fellow of the hall-glee!  O fellow of the field!

Why then hast thou departed and left me under shield?

I the ancient, I the childless, while yet in the Laxing hall

Are thy brother’s sons abiding and their children on thee call.

  “O kindreds of the people! the soul that dwelt herein,

This goodly way-worn body, was keen for you to win

Good days and long endurance.  Who knoweth of his deed

What things for you it hath fashioned from the flame of the fire of need?

But of this at least well wot we, that forth from your hearts it came

And back to your hearts returneth for the seed of thriving and fame.

In the ground wherein ye lay it, the body of this man,

No deed of his abideth, no glory that he wan,

But evermore the Markmen shall bear his deeds o’er earth,

With the joy of the deeds that are coming, the garland of his worth.”

  He was silent a little as he stood looking down on Otter’s face with grievous sorrow, for all that his words were stout.  For indeed, as he had said, Otter had been his battle-fellow and his hall-fellow, though he was much younger than Asmund; and they had been standing foot to foot in that battle wherein old Asmund’s sons were slain by his side.

  After a while he turned slowly from looking at Otter to gaze upon Thiodolf, and his body trembled as he looked, and he opened his mouth to speak; but no word came from it; and he sat down upon the edge of the bier, and the tears began to gush out of his old eyes, and he wept aloud.  Then they that saw him wondered; for all knew the stoutness of his heart, and how he had borne more burdens than that of eld, and had not cowered down under them.  But at last he arose again, and stood firmly on his feet, and faced the folk-mote, and in a voice more like the voice of a man in his prime than of an old man, he sang:

     “Wild the storm is abroad

   Of the edge of the sword!

   Far on runneth the path

   Of the war-stride of wrath!

   The Gods hearken and hear

   The long rumour of fear

   From the meadows beneath

   Running fierce o’er the heath,

Till it beats round their dwelling-place builded aloof

And at last all up-swelling breaks wild o’er their roof,