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Updated: May 26, 2025
And Sigurd looked up at the tower, and saw who was there, and stayed with his face raised, motionless for a space. I minded how Mord had stared and cried out when first he saw Havelok, the son of Gunnar, in his war gear. "Biorn! where is Biorn?" cried Sigurd, looking back on the crowd as if he thought he would be there.
I am called a noble beast: neither father have I nor mother, and all alone have I fared hither." Said Fafnir, "Whereas thou hast neither father nor mother, of what wonder wert thou born then? But now, though thou tellest me not thy name on this my death-day, yet thou knowest verily that thou liest unto me." He answered, "Sigurd am I called, and my father was Sigmund."
"I must not forget to relate that he grew so enthusiastic over 'Sigurd Jorsalfar, the subject of which I explained to him as minutely as possible, that he said to von Hiilsen, the intendant of the royal theatres, who sat next to him: 'We must produce this work! "I then invited von Hiilsen to come to Christiania to witness a performance of it, and he said he was very eager to so.
On the intelligence of this fleet having arrived in Irish waters, according to the annals, Murkertach and his allies marched in force to Dublin, where, however, Magnus "made peace with them for one year," and Murkertach "gave his daughter to Sigurd, with many jewels and gifts."
The salmon, do you see, was a fairy salmon. Myself. What a strange coincidence! Murtagh. A what, Shorsha? Myself. Why, that the very same tale should be told of Finn-ma-Coul, which is related of Sigurd Fafnisbane. "What thief was that, Shorsha?" "Thief! 'Tis true, he took the treasure of Fafnir. Sigurd was the hero of the North, Murtagh, even as Finn is the great hero of Ireland.
That night, while he slept, Gudrun took Hognis son Hnifling, who desired to avenge his slaughtered father, and entering Atlis chamber, the young man thrust a sword through the breast of the Hunnish king. He awoke through the pain of his wound, and was informed by Gudrun that she was his murderess. He bitterly reproached her, only to be told that she cared for no one but Sigurd.
Arriving at the farmhouse, they saw Sigurd curled up under the porch, playing idly with the trailing rose-branches, but, on hearing their footsteps, he looked up, uttered a wild exclamation, and fled. Gueldmar tapped his own forehead significantly. "He grows worse and worse, the poor lad!" he said somewhat sorrowfully.
William Morris saw no reason for abandoning either the heroes or anything else of the epic tradition. The chief personages of Sigurd the Volsung are admittedly more than human, the events frankly marvellous. The poem is an impressive one, and in one way or another fulfils all the main qualifications of epic. But perhaps no great poem ever had so many faults.
"I myself have talked with one of the sailors who saw it," Sigurd explained. "He was Biorn's steersman. He saw it distinctly. He said that it looked like a fine country, with many trees." "If it was a real country and no witchcraft, it is strange that he contented himself with looking at it. Why did he not land and explore?" "Biorn Herjulfsson is a coward," Helga said contemptuously.
Now it seemed that Sigurd had a mind to go after him. But as he was leaving the crowd he met a certain rich merchant of the town, and he said: "Tell me, Biorn, who is this yellow haired lad that has just proved himself so skilful at the knife feat? And whence came he into Esthonia?" The merchant shook his head and said: "He is a wild and wilful loon, hersir, and of no account to any man.
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