"And first ye shall know of a sooth, that I never was born of the race Which the masters of God-home have made to cover the fair earth's face; But I come of the Dwarfs departed; and fair was the earth whileome Ere the short-lived thralls of the Gods amidst its dales were come:-- And how were we worse than the Gods, though maybe we lived not as long? Yet no weight of memory maimed us; nor aught we knew of wrong. What felt our souls of shaming, what knew our hearts of love? We did and undid at pleasure, and repented nought thereof. --Yea we were exceeding mighty--bear with me yet, my son; For whiles can I scarcely think it that our days are wholly done. And trust not thy life in my hands in the day when most I seem Like the Dwarfs that are long departed, and most of my kindred I dream.
"So as we dwelt came tidings that the Gods amongst us were, And the people came from Asgard: then rose up hope and fear, And strange shapes of things went flitting betwixt the night and the eve, And our sons waxed wild and wrathful, and our daughters learned to grieve. Then we fell to the working of metal, and the deeps of the earth would know, And we dealt with venom and leechcraft, and we fashioned spear and bow, And we set the ribs to the oak-keel, and looked on the landless sea; And the world began to be such-like as the Gods would have it to be. In the womb of the woeful earth had they quickened the grief and the gold.
"It was Reidmar the Ancient begat me; and now was he waxen old, And a covetous man and a king; and he bade, and I built him a hall, And a golden glorious house; and thereto his sons did he call, And he bade them be evil and wise, that his will through them might be wrought. Then he gave unto Fafnir my brother the soul that feareth nought, And the brow of the hardened iron, and the hand that may never fail, And the greedy heart of a king, and the ear that hears no wail.
"But next unto Otter my brother he gave the snare and the net, And the longing to wend through the wild-wood, and wade the highways wet: And the foot that never resteth, while aught be left alive That hath cunning to match man's cunning or might with his might to strive.
"And to me, the least and the youngest, what gift for the slaying of ease? Save the grief that remembers the past, and the fear that the future sees; And the hammer and fashioning-iron, and the living coal of fire; And the craft that createth a semblance, and fails of the heart's desire; And the toil that each dawning quickens and the task that is never done; And the heart that longeth ever, nor will look to the deed that is won.