still seem fair;
But thy wit shall then be awakened, and thou shalt know indeed
Why the brave man's spear is broken, and his war shield fails at need;
Why the loving is unbeloved; why the just man falls from his state;
Why the liar gains in a day what the soothfast strives for late.
Yea, and thy deeds shalt thou know, and great shall thy gladness be;
As a picture all of gold thy life-days shalt thou see,
And know that thou wert a God to abide through the hurry and haste;
A God in the golden hall, a God in the rain-swept waste,
A God in the battle triumphant, a God on the heap of the slain:
And thine hope shall arise and blossom, and thy love shall be quickened
again:
And then shalt thou see before thee the face of all earthly ill;
Thou shalt drink of the cup of awakening that thine hand hath holpen to
fill;
By the side of the sons of Odin shalt thou fashion a tale to be told
In the hall of the happy Baldur.

(P. 25.)

In this wise one Christian might hearten another to accept the dealings
of Providence to-day. While we do not think that a worshipper of Odin
would have spoken all these words, they are not an undue exaggeration of
the noblest traits of the old Icelandic religion.

The poem does not record the death of Siggeir's and Signy's son, though
the saga does. Morris adds a touch when he makes the imprisoned men
exult over the sword that Signy drops into their grave, and he also puts
into the mouth of Siggeir in the burning hall words that the saga does
not contain. The poem says that the women of the Gothfolk were permitted
to retire from the burning hall, but the saga has no such statement. The
war of foul words between Granmar and Sinfjoetli is left in the saga, and
the cause of Gudrod's death is changed from rivalry over a woman to
anger over a division of war booty. In Sigmund's lament over his
childlessness we have another of the poet's additions, and certainly we
find no fault with the liberty:

The tree was stalwart, but its boughs are old and worn.
Where now are the children departed, that amidst my life were born?
I know not the men about me, and they know not of my ways:
I am nought but a picture of battle, and a song for the people to
praise.
I must strive with the deeds of my kingship, and yet when mine hour is
come
It shall meet me as glad as the goodman when he bringet