{"collection":"Northern European Mythology","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/neu/morris/ep2/ep211.htm","path":"neu/morris/ep2/ep211.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/neu/morris/ep2/ep211.htm","text":"The Earthly Paradise, (September-November), by William Morris, [1870]\nThe Prophecy of Guest the Wise.\nUPON a day, amid the maids that spun\n Within the bower at Bathstead, sat Gudrun,\n Her father in the firth a-fishing was,\n The while her mother through the meads did pass\n About some homely work. So there she sat,\n Nor set her hand to this work or to that,\n And a half-frown was on her pensive face,\n Nor did she heed the chatter of the place\n As girl spake unto girl. Then did she hear\n The sound of horse-hoofs swiftly drawing near,\n And started up, and cried, \"That shall be Guest,\n Riding, as still his wont is, from the west p. 340\n Unto the Thing, and this is just the day\n When he is wont at Bathstead to make stay.\"\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Then to the door she went, and with slim hand\n Put it aback, and \u2019twixt the posts did stand,\n And saw therewith a goodly company\n Ride up the grey slopes leading from the sea.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0That spring was she just come to her full height;\n Low-bosomed yet she was, and slim and light,\n Yet scarce might she grow fairer from that day;\n Gold were the locks wherewith the wind did play,\n Finer than silk, waved softly like the sea\n After a three days\u2019 calm, and to her knee\n Well-nigh they reached; fair were the white hands laid\n Upon the door-posts where the dragons played;\n Her brow was smooth now, and a smile began\n To cross her delicate mouth, the snare of man;\n For some thought rose within the heart of her\n That made her eyes bright, her cheeks ruddier\n Than was their wont, yet were they delicate\n As are the changing steps of high heaven's gate;\n Bluer than grey her eyes were; somewhat thin\n Her marvellous red lips; round was her chin,\n Cloven, and clear-wrought; like an ivory tower\n Rose up her neck from love's white-veiled bower.\n But in such lordly raiment was she clad,\n As midst its threads the scent of southlands had,\n And on its hem the work of such-like hands p. 341\n As deal with silk and gold in sunny lands.\n Too dainty seemed her feet to come anear\n The guest-worn threshold-stone. So stood she there,\n And rough the world about her seemed to be,\n A rude heap cast up from the weary sea.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0But now the new-come folk, some twelve in all,\n Drew rein before the doorway of the hall,\n And she a step or two across the grass\n Unto the leader of the men did pass,\n A white-haired elder clad in kirtle red:\n \"Be welcome here, O Guest the Wise!\" she said,\n \"My father honours me so much that I\n Am bid to pray thee not to pass us by,\n But bide here for a while; he says withal\n That thou and he together in the hall\n Are two wise men together, two who can\n Talk cunningly about the ways of man.\"\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Guest laughed, and leapt from off his horse, and said:\n \"Fair words from fair lips, and a goodly stead,\n But unto Thickwood must I go to-night\n To give my kinsman Armod some delight;\n Nevertheless here will we rest a while,\n And thou and I with talk an hour beguile,\n For so it is that all men say of thee,\n 'Not far off falls the apple from the tree,'\n That \u2019neath thy coif some day shall lie again p. 342\n When he is dead, 'the wise old Oswif's brain.\"\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0With that he took her hand, and to the hall\n She led him, and his fellows one and all\n Leapt to the ground, and followed clattering\n In through the porch, and many a goodly thing\n There had they plenteously; but mid the noise\n And rattling horns and laughter, with clear voice\n Spake Gudrun unto Guest, and ever he\n Smiled at her goodly sayings joyfully,\n And yet at whiles grew grave; yea, and she too,\n Though her eyes glistened, seemed as scarce she knew\n The things she said. At last, amid their speech,\n The old man stayed his hand as it did reach\n Out to the beaker, and his grey eyes stared\n As though unseen things to his soul were bared;\n Then Gudrun waited trembling, till he said:\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"Liest thou awake at midnight in thy bed,\n Thinking of dreams dreamed in the winter-tide,\n When the north-east, turned off the mountain-side,\n Shook the stout timbers of the hall, as when\n They shook in Norway ere the upland men\n Bore axe against them?\"\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0She spake low to him:\n \"So is it, but of these the most wax dim\n When daylight comes again; but four there are\u2014\n Four dreams in one\u2014that bring me yet great care,\n Nor may I soon forget them, yea, they sink\n Still deeper in my soul\u2014but do thou drink, p. 343\n And tell me merry tales; of what avail\n To speak of things that make a maiden pale\n And a man laugh?\"\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"Speak quick,\" he said, \"before\n This glimmer of a sight I have is o\u2019er.\"\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Then she delayed not, but in quick words said:\n \"Methought that with a coif upon my head\n I stood upon a stream-side, and withal\n Upon my heart the sudden thought did fall\n How foul that coif was, and how ill it sat,\n And though the folk beside me spoke \u2019gainst that,\n Nevertheless, from off mine head I tore\n The cursed thing, and cast it from the shore;\n And glad at heart was I when it was gone,\n And woke up laughing.\"\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"Well, the second one,\"\n Said Guest; \"Make good speed now, and tell me all!\"\n\"This was the dream,\" she said, \"that next did fall:\n By a great water was I; on mine arm\n A silver ring, that more my heart did charm\n Than one might deem that such a small thing might;\n My very own indeed seemed that delight,\n And long I looked to have it; but as I\n Stood and caressed the dear thing, suddenly\n It slipped from off my arm, and straightway fell\n Into the water: nor is more to tell p. 344\n But that I wept thereat, and sorrowed sore\n As for a friend that I should see no more.\"\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"As great,\" said Guest, \"is this thing as the last,\n What follows after?\"\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"O\u2019er the road I passed\n Nigh Bathstead,\" said she, \"in fair raiment clad,\n And on mine arm a golden ring I had;\n And seemly did I deem it, yet the love\n I had therefor was not so much above\n That wherewithal I loved the silver ring,\n As gold is held by all a dearer thing\n Than silver is; now, whatso worth it bore,\n Methought that needs for longer than before\n This ring should give me what it might of bliss;\n But even as with foolish dreams it is\n So was it now; falling I seemed to be,\n And spread my arms abroad to steady me;\n Upon a stone the ring smote, and atwain\n It broke; and when I stooped the halves to gain,\n Lo, blood ran out from either broken place;\n Then as I gazed thereon I seemed to trace\n A flaw within the craftsman's work, whereby\n The fair thing brake; yea, withal presently\n Yet other flaws therein could I discern;\n And as I stood and looked, and sore did yearn,\n Midst blind regrets, rather than raging pain,\n For that fair thing I should not see again,\n My eyes seemed opened, to my heart it came, p. 345\n Spite of those flaws, that on me lay the blame\n Why thus was spoiled that noble gift and rare,\n Because therewith I dealt not with due care:\n So with a sigh I woke.\"\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"Ill fare,\" said Guest,\n \"Three of thy dreams, tell now about the rest.\"\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"This is the last of the four dreams,\" she said;\n \"Methought I had a helm upon my head,\n Wrought all of gold, with precious gems beset,\n And pride and joy I had therein, and yet,\n So heavy was it, that I scarce might hold\n My head upright for that great weight of gold;\n Yet for all that I laid no blame or wrong\n Upon it, and I fain had kept it long;\n But amid this, while least I looked therefor,\n Something, I knew not what, the fair helm tore\n From off mine head, and then I saw it swept\n Into the firth, and when I would have wept\n Then my voice failed me, and mine eyes were dry\n Despite my heart; and therewith presently\n I woke, and heard withal the neat-herd's song\n As o\u2019er the hard white snow he went along\n Unto the byre, shouldering his load of hay;\n Then knew I the beginning of the day,\n And to the window went and saw afar\n The wide firth, black beneath the morning-star,\n And all the waste of snow, and saw the man\n Dark on the slope; \u2019twixt the dead earth and wan,p. 346\n And the dark vault of star-besprinkled sky,\n Croaking, a raven toward the sea did fly\u2014\n \u2014With that I fell a yearning for the spring,\n And all the pleasant things that it should bring,\n And lay back in my bed and shut my eyes,\n To see what pictures to my heart would rise,\n And slept, but dreamed no more; now spring is here\u2014\n Thou knowst perchance, made wise with many a year,\n What thing it is I long for; but to me\n All grows as misty as the autumn sea\n \u2019Neath the first hoar-frost, and I name it not,\n The thing wherewith my wondering heart is hot\"\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Then Guest turned round upon her, with a smile\n Beholding her fair face a little while,\n And as he looked on her she hid her eyes\n With slim hands, but he saw the bright flush rise,\n Despite of them, up to her forehead fair;\n Therewith he sighed as one who needs must bear\n A heavy burden.\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"Since thou thus hast told\n Thy dreams,\" he said, \"scarce may I now withhold\n The tale of what mine eyes have seen therein;\n Yet little from my foresight shalt thou win,\n Since both the blind, and they who see full well,\n Go the same road, and leave a tale to tell\n Of interwoven miseries, lest they,\n Who after them a while on earth must stay,\n Should have no pleasure in the winter night, p. 347\n When this man's pain is made that man's delight.\"\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0He smiled an old man's smile, as thus he spake,\n Then said, \"But I must hasten ere it break\n The thin sharp thread of light that yet I see\u2014\n \u2014Methinks a stirring life shall hap to thee.\n Thou shalt be loved and love; wrongs shalt thou give,\n Wrongs shalt thou take, and therewithal outlive\n Both wrongs, and love, and joy, and dwell alone\n When all the fellows of thy life are gone.\n Nay, think not I can tell thee much of this,\n How it shall hap, the sorrow or the bliss\n Only foreshadowing of outward things,\n Great, and yet not the greatest, dream-lore brings.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"For whereas of the ill coif thou didst dream,\n That such a husband unto me doth seem\n As thou shalt think mates thee but ill enow,\n Nor shall love-longings bind thee; so shalt thou\n By thine own deed shake off this man from thee.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"But next the ring of silver seems to me,\n Another husband, loved and loving well;\n But even as the ring from off thee fell\n Into the water, so it is with him,\n The sea shall make his love and promise dim.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cBut for the gold ring; thou shalt wed again, p. 348\n A worthier man belike\u2014yet well-nigh vain\n My strivings are to see what means the gold\n Thou lovedst not more than silver: I am old\n And thou art very young; hadst thou my sight,\n Perchance herein thou wouldst have more of might.\n But my heart says, that on the land there comes\n A faith that telleth of more lovesome homes\n For dead men, than we deemed of heretofore,\n And that this man full well shall know that lore.\n But whereas blood from out the ring did run,\n By the sword's edge his life shall be foredone:\n Then for the flaws\u2014see thou thyself to these!\n Thou knowest how a thing full well may please,\n When first thou hast it in thine hold, until\n Up to the surface float the seeds of ill,\n And vain regret o\u2019er all thy life is spread.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cBut for the heavy helm that bowed thine head\u2014\n This, thy last husband, a great chief shall be\n And hold a helm of terror over thee\n Though thou shalt love him: at the end of life\n His few last minutes shall he spend in strife\n With the wild waves of Hwammfirth, and in vain,\n For him too shall the white sea-goddess gain.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"So is thy dream areded; but these things\n Shall hang above thee, as on unheard wings\n The kestrel hangs above the mouse; nor more\n As erst I said shalt thou gain by my lore p. 349\n Than at the end of life, perchance, a smile\n That fate with sight and blindness did beguile\n Thine eyes in such sort\u2014that thou knewst the end,\n But not the way whereon thy feet did wend\n On any day amid the many years,\n Wherethrough thou waitedst for the flood of tears,\n The dreariness that at some halting-place,\n Waited in turn to change thy smiling face.\n Be merry yet! these things shall not be all\n That unto thee in this thy life shall fall.\"\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Amid these latter words of his, the may\n From her fair face had drawn her hands away,\n And sat there with fixed eyes, and face grown pale,.\n As one who sees the corner of the veil,\n That hideth strange things, lifted for a while;\n But when he ceased, she said with a faint smile\n And trembling lips:\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"Thanked be thou; well it is!\n From thee I get no promise of vain bliss,\n And constant joy; a tale I might have had\n From flattering lips to make my young heart glad\u2014\n Yea, have my thanks!\u2014yet wise as thou mayst be,\n Mayst thou not dimly through these tangles see?\"\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0He answered nought, but sat awhile with eyes\n Distraught and sad, and face made over wise\n With many a hard vain struggle; but at last\n As one who from him a great weight doth cast,\n He rose and snake to her: p. 350\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"Wild words, fair may,\n Now time it is that we were on our way.\"\n Then unto him her visage did she turn,\n In either cheek a bright red spot did burn,\n Her teeth were set hard, and her brow was knit\n As though she saw her life and strove with it.\n Yet presently but common words she spake,\n And bid him bide yet for her father's sake,\n To make him joyful when the boards were laid;\n But certainly, whatever words she said,\n She heeded little, only from her tongue\n By use and wont clear in his ears they rung.\n Guest answered as before, that he would ride,\n Because that night at Thickwood must he bide;\n So silent now with wandering weary eyes\n She watched his men do on their riding guise,\n Then led him from the hall but listlessly,\n As though she heeded nought where she might be.\n So forth he rode, but turned and backward gazed\n Before his folk the garth-gate latch had raised,\n And saw her standing yet anigh the hall,\n With her long shadow cast upon its wall,\n As with her eyes turned down upon the ground\n A long lock of her hair she wound and wound\n About her hand. Then turning once again,\n He passed the gate and shook his bridle-rein.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Now but a short way had he gone ere he\n Beheld a man draw nigh their company, p. 351\n Who, when they met, with fair words Guest did greet,\n And said that Olaf Peacock bade him meet\n Him and his men, and bid them to his stead:\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"And well ye wot, O Goodman Guest,\" he said,\n \"That all day long it snoweth meat and drink\n At Herdholt, and the gurgle and the clink\n Of mead and horns, the harp alone doth still.\"\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Guest laughed, and said, \"Well, be that as it will,\n Get swiftly back, and say that I will come\n To look upon the marvels of his home\n And hear his goodly voice; but may not bide\n The night through, for to Thickwood must I ride.\"\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Then the man turned and smote his horse; but they\n Rode slowly by the borders of the bay\n Upon that fresh and sunny afternoon,\n Noting the sea-birds\u2019 cry and surf's soft tune,\n Until at last into the dale they came,\n And saw the gilt roof-ridge of Herdholt flame\n In the bright sunlight over the fresh grass,\n O\u2019er which the restless white-woolled lambs did pass\n And querulous grey ewes; and wide around,\n Near and far up the dale, they heard the sound\n Of lowing kine, and the blithe neat-herd's voice,\n For in those days did all things there rejoice.\n Now presently from out the garth they saw\n A goodly company unto them draw,\n And thitherward came Olaf and his men;\n So joyous greeting was betwixt them when p. 352\n They met, and side by side the two chiefs rode,\n Right glad at heart unto the fair abode.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Great-limbed was Olaf Hauskuldson, well knit,\n And like a chief upon his horse did sit;\n Clear-browed and wide-eyed was he, smooth of skin\n Through fifty rough years; of his mother's kin,\n The Erse king's daughter, did his short lip tell,\n And dark-lashed grey-blue eyes; like a clear bell\n His voice was yet, despite of waves and wind,\n And such a goodly man you scarce might find,\n As for his years, in all the northern land.\n He held a gold-wrought spear in his right hand,\n A chief's gold ring his left arm did upbear,\n And as a mighty king's was all his gear,\n Well shaped of Flanders' cloth, and silk and gold.\n Thus they their way up to the garth did hold,\n And Thord the Short, Guest's son, was next thereby,\n A brisk man and a brave; so presently\n They passed the garth-wall, and drew rein before\n The new-built hall's well-carven, fair porch-door,\n And Guest laughed out with pleasure, to behold\n Its goodly fashion, as the Peacock told\n With what huge heed and care the place was wrought,\n And of the Norway earl's great wood, he brought\n Over the sea; then in they went and Guest\n Gazed through the cool dusk, till his eyes did rest\n Upon the noble stories, painted fair\n On the high panelling and roof-boards there; p. 353\n For over the high-seat, in his ship there lay\n The gold-haired Baldur, god of the dead day,\n The spring-flowers round his high pile, waiting there\n Until the Gods thereto the torch should bear;\n And they were wrought on this side and on that,\n Drawing on towards him. There was Frey, and sat\n On the gold-bristled boar, who first they say\n Ploughed the brown earth, and made it green for Frey.\n Then came dark-bearded Ni\u00f6rd; and after him\n Freyia, thin-robed, about her ankles slim\n The grey cats playing. In another place\n Thor's hammer gleamed o\u2019er Thor's red-bearded face;\n And Heimdall, with the gold horn slung behind,\n That in the God's-dusk he shall surely wind,\n Sickening all hearts with fear; and last of all\n Was Odin's sorrow wrought upon the wall,\n As slow-paced, weary-faced, he went along,\n Anxious with all the tales of woe and wrong\n His ravens, Thought and Memory, bring to him.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Guest looked on these until his eyes grew dim,\n Then turned about, and had no word to praise,\n So wrought in him the thought of those strange days\n Done with so long ago. But furthermore\n Upon the other side, the deeds of Thor\n Were duly done; the fight in the far sea\n With him who rings the world's iniquity,\n The Midgard Worm; strife in the giants' land,\n With snares and mockeries thick on either hand, p. 354\n And dealings with the Evil One who brought\n Death even amid the Gods\u2014all these well wrought\n Did Guest behold, as in a dream, while still\n His joyous men the echoing hall did fill\n With many-voiced strange clamour, as of these\n They talked, and stared on all the braveries.\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Then to the presses in the cloth-room there\n Did Olaf take him, and showed hangings fair\n Brought from the southlands far across the sea,\n And English linen and fair napery,\n And Flemish cloth; then back into the hall\n He led him, and took arms from off the wall,\n And let the mail-coat rings run o\u2019er his hands,\n And strung strange bows brought from the fiery lands.\n Then through the butteries he made him pass,\n And, smiling, showed what winter stock yet was;\n Fish, meal, and casks of wine, and goodly store\n Of honey, that the bees had grumbled o\u2019er\n In clover fields of Kent. Out went they then\n And saw in what wise Olaf's serving-men\n Dealt with the beasts, and what fair stock he had,\n And how the maids were working blithe and glad\n Within the women's chamber. Then at last,\n Guest smiled, and said;\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"Right fair is all thou hast,\n A noble life thou livest certainly,\n And in such wise as now, still may it be,\n Nor mayst thou know beginning of ill days!\n Now let it please thee that we go our ways, p. 355\n E\u2019en as I said, for the sun falleth low.\"\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"So be it then,\" said he. \"Nor shalt thou go\n Giftless henceforth; and I will go with thee\n Some little way, for we my sons may see;\n And fain I am to know how to thine eyes\n They seem, because I know thee for most wise,\n And that the cloud of time from thee hides less\n Than from most men, of woe or happiness.\"\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0With that he gave command, and men brought forth\n Two precious things; a hat of goodly worth,\n Of fur of Russia, with a gold chain wound\n Thrice round it, and a coin of gold that bound\n The chain's end in the front, and on the same\n A Greek king's head was wrought, of mighty fame\n In olden time; this unto Guest he gave,\n And smiled to see his deep-set eyes and grave\n Gleam out with joy thereover: but to Thord,\n Guest's son, he gave a well-adorned sword\n And English-\u2019broidered belt; and then once more\n They mounted by the goodly carven door,\n And to their horses gat all Guest's good men,\n And forth they rode toward Laxriver: but when\n They had just overtopped a low knoll's brow,\n Olaf cried out, \"There play hot hearts enow\n In the cold waves!\" Then Guest looked, and afar\n Beheld the tide play on the sandy bar\n About the stream's mouth, as the sea waves rushed p. 356\n In over it and back the land-stream pushed;\n But in the dark wide pool mid foam-flecks white,\n Beneath the slanting afternoon sunlight,\n He saw white bodies sporting, and the air\n Light from the south-west up the slopes did bear\n Sound of their joyous cries as there they played.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Then said he, \"Goodman, thou art well apaid\n Of thy fair sons, if they shall deal as well\n With earth as water.\"\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"Nought there is tell\n Of great deeds at their hands as yet,\" said he;\n \"But look you, how they note our company!\"\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0For waist-high from the waves one rose withal,\n And sent a shrill voice like a sea-mew's call\n Across the river, then all turned toward land,\n And beat the waves to foam with foot and hand,\n And certes kept no silence; up the side\n They scrambled, and about the shore spread wide\n Seeking their raiment, and the yellowing sun\n Upon the line of moving bodies shone,\n As running here and there with laugh and shout\n They flung the linen and grey cloth about,\n Yet spite of all their clamour clad them fast.\n So Guest and Olaf o\u2019er the green slopes passed\n At sober pace, the while the other men\n Raced down to meet the swimmers. p. 357\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"Many then\n There are, who have no part or lot in thee\n Among these lads,\" said Guest.\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"Yea, such there be,\"\n Said Olaf, \"sons of dale-dwellers hereby;\n But Kiartan rules the swimming.\"\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Earnestly\n Guest gazed upon the lads as they drew near,\n And scarcely now he seemed the words to hear\n That Olaf spake, who talked about his race\n And how they first had dwelling in that place;\n But at the last Guest turned his horse about\n Up stream, and drew rein, yet, as one in doubt,\n Looked o\u2019er his shoulder at the youths withal;\n But nought said Olaf, doubting what should fall\n From those wise lips.\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Then Guest spake, \"Who are these?\n Tell me their names; yon lad upon his knees,\n Turning the blue cloak over with his hands,\n While over him a sturdy fellow stands,\n Talking belike?\"\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"Hauskuld, my youngest son,\"\n Said Olaf, \"kneels there, but the standing one\n Is An the Black, my house-carle, a stout man.\"\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"Good,\" Guest said; \"name the one who e\u2019en now ran\n Through upraised hands a glittering silver chain, p. 358\n And, as we look now, gives it back again\n Unto a red-haired youth, tall, fair, and slim.\"\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"Haldor it was who gave the chain to him,\n And Helgi took it,\" Olaf said.\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Then Guest:\n \"There kneeleth one in front of all the rest,\n Less clad than any there, and hides from me\n Twain who are sitting nigher to the sea?\"\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\nThen Olaf looked with shaded eyes and said:\n \"Steinthor, the sluggard, is it, by my head\n He hideth better men! nay, look now, look!\"\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Then toward the stream his spear-butt Olaf shook,\n As Steinthor rose, and gat somewhat aside,\n And showed the other twain he first did hide.\n On a grey stone anigh unto the stream\n Sat a tall youth whose golden head did gleam\n In the low sun; half covered was his breast,\n His right arm bare as yet, a sword did rest\n Upon his knees, and some half-foot of it\n He from the sheath had drawn; a man did sit\n Upon the grass before him; slim was he,\n Black-haired and tall, and looked up smilingly\n Into the other's face, with one hand laid\n Upon the sword-sheath nigh the broad grey blade,\n And seemed as though he listened. p. 359\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Then spake Guest:\n \"No need, O friend, to ask about the rest,\n Since I have seen these; for without a word\n Kiartan I name the man who draws the sword\n From out the sheath, and low down in the shade\n Before him Bodli Thorleikson is laid.\n But tell me of that sword, who bore it erst?\"\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Then Olaf laughed, \"Some call that sword accursed;\n Bodli now bears it, which the Eastlander\n Geirmund, my daughter's husband, once did wear,\n Hast thou not heard the tale? he won the maid\n By my wife's word, wherefor with gold he paid,\n Or so I deemed; but whereas of good kin\n The man was, and the women hot herein,\n I stood not in the way; well, but his love,\n Whate\u2019er it was, quenched not his will to rove;\n He left her, but would nowise leave the sword,\n And so she helped herself, and for reward\n Got that, and a curse with it, babblers say.\n \u2014Let see if it prevail \u2019gainst my good day!\"\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Guest answered nought at all, his head was turned\n Eastward, away from where the low sun burned\n Above the swimmers. Olaf spake once more:\n \"Wise friend, thou thus hast heard their names told o\u2019er,\n How thinkest thou? hast thou the heart to tell\n Which in the years to come shall do right well?\" p. 360\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Guest spake nought for a while, and then he said,\n But yet not turning any more his head:\n \"Surely of this at least thou wouldst be glad,\n If Kiartan while he lived more glory had\n Than any man now waxing in the land.\"\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Then even as he spoke he raised his hand\n And smote his horse, and rode upon his way\n With no word more; neither durst Olaf stay\n His swift departing, doubting of his mood;\n For though indeed the word he spake was good,\n Yet some vague fear he seemed to leave behind,\n And Olaf scarce durst seek, lest he should find\n Some ill thing lurking by his glory's side.\n But after Guest his son and men did ride,\n And forth to Thickwood with no stay they went.\n But now, the journey and the day nigh spent,\n Unto his father as they rode turned Thord,\n With mind to say to him some common word,\n But stared astonished, for the great tears ran\n Over the wrinkled cheeks of the old man,\n Yea, and adown his beard, nor shame had he\n That Thord in such a plight his face should see,\n At last he spake:\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"Thou wonderest, O my son,\n To see the tears fall down from such an one\n As I am\u2014folly is it in good sooth\n Bewraying inward grief; but pain and ruth\n Work in me so, I may not hold my peace p. 361\n About the woes, that as thy years increase\n Thou shalt behold fall on the country-side\u2014\n \u2014But me the grey cairn ere that day shall hide\u2014\n Fair men and women have I seen to-day,\n Yet I weep not because these pass away,\n Sad though that is, but rather weep for this,\n That they know not upon their day of bliss\n How their worn hearts shall fail them ere they die,\n How sore the weight of woe on them shall lie,\n No sighing eases, wherewithal no hope,\n No pride, no rage, shall make them fit to cope.\n Remember what folk thou this day hast seen,\n And in what joyous steads thy feet have been,\n Then think of this!\u2014that men may look to see\n Love slaying love, and ruinous victory,\n And truth called lies, and kindness turned to hate,\n And prudence sowing seeds of all debate!\n Son, thou shalt live to hear when I am dead\n Of Bodli standing over Kiartan's head,\n His friend, his foster-brother, and his bane,\n That he in turn e\u2019en such an end may gain.\n Woe worth the while! forget it, and be blind!\n Look not before thee! the road left behind,\n Let that be to thee as a tale well told\n To make thee merry when thou growest old!\"\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0So spake he; but by this time had they come\n Unto the wood that lay round Armod's home,\n So on the tree-beset and narrow way p. 362\n They entered now, and left behind the day;\n And whatso things thenceforth to Guest befell,\n No more of him the story hath to tell.","title":"The Earthly Paradise (September-November): The Lovers of Gudrun: The Prophecy of Guest the Wise","type":"page"}