Meantime, Starkad, who was now worn out with extreme age, and who seemed to be past military service and the calling of a champion, was loth to lose his ancient glory through the fault of eld, and thought it would be a noble thing if he could make a voluntary end, and hasten his death by his own free will.Having so often fought nobly, he thought it would be mean to die a bloodless death; and, wishing to enhance the glory of his past life by the lustre of his end, he preferred to be slain by some man of gallant birth rather than await the tardy shaft of nature.So shameful was it thought that men devoted to war should die by disease.His body was weak, and his eyes could not see clearly, so that he hated to linger any more in life.In order to buy himself an executioner, he wore hanging on his neck the gold which he had earned for the murder of Ole; thinking there was no fitter way of atoning for the treason he had done than to make the price of Ole's death that of his own also, and to spend on the loss of his own life what he had earned by the slaying of another.This, he thought, would be the noblest use he could make of that shameful price.So he girded him with two swords, and guided his powerless steps leaning on two staves.
One of the common people, seeing him, thinking two swords superfluous for the use of an old man, mockingly asked him to make him a present of one of them.Starkad, holding out hopes of consent, bade him come nearer, drew the sword from his side, and ran him through.This was seen by a certain Hather, whose father Hlenne Starkad had once killed in repentance for his own impious crime.Hatfier was hunting game with his dogs, but now gave over the chase, and bade two of his companions spur their horses hard and charge at the old man to frighten him.They galloped forward, and tried to make off, but were stopped by the staves of Starkad, and paid for it with their lives.Hather, terrified by the sight, galloped up closer, and saw who the old man was, but without being recognized by him in turn; and asked him if he would like to exchange his sword for a carriage.Starkad replied that he used in old days to chastise jeerers, and that the insolent had never insulted him unpunished.But his sightless eyes could not recognize the features of the youth; so he composed a song, wherein he should declare the greatness of his anger, as follows:
"As the unreturning waters sweep down the channel; so, as the years run by, the life of man flows on never to come back; fast gallops the cycle of doom, child of old age who shall make an end of all.Old age smites alike the eyes and the steps of men, robs the warrior of his speech and soul, tarnishes his fame by slow degrees, and wipes out his deeds of honour.It seizes his failing limbs, chokes his panting utterance, and numbs his nimble wit.When a cough is taken, when the skin itches with the scab, and the teeth are numb and hollow, and the stomach turns squeamish, -- then old age banishes the grace of youth, covers the complexion with decay, and sows many a wrinkle in the dusky skin.Old age crushes noble arts, brings down the memorials of men of old, and scorches ancient glories up; shatters wealth, hungrily gnaws away the worth and good of virtue, turns athwart and disorders all things.
"I myself have felt the hurtful power of injurious age, I, dim-sighted, and hoarse in my tones and in my chest; and all helpful things have turned to my hurt.Now my body is less nimble, and I prop it up, leaning my faint limbs on the support of staves.Sightless I guide my steps with two sticks, and follow the short path which the rod shows me, trusting more in the leading of a stock than in my eyes.None takes any charge of me, and no man in the ranks brings comfort to the veteran, unless, perchance, Hather is here, and succours his shattered friend.Whomsoever Hather once thinks worthy of his duteous love, that man he attends continually with even zeal, constant to his purpose, and fearing to break his early ties.He also often pays fit rewards to those that have deserved well in war, and fosters their courage; he bestows dignities on the brave, and honours his famous friends with gifts.Free with his wealth, he is fain to increase with bounty the brightness of his name, and to surpass many of the mighty.Nor is he less in war: his strength is equal to his goodness; he is swift in the fray, slow to waver, ready to give battle; and he cannot turn his back when the foe bears him hard.But for me, if I remember right, fate appointed at my birth that wars I should follow and in war Ishould die, that I should mix in broils, watch in arms, and pass a life of bloodshed.I was a man of camps, and rested not;hating peace, I grew old under thy standard, O War-god, in utmost peril; conquering fear, I thought it comely to fight, shameful to loiter, and noble to kill and kill again, to be for ever slaughtering! Oft have I seen the stern kings meet in war, seen shield and helmet bruised, and the fields redden with blood, and the cuirass broken by the spear-point, and the corselets all around giving at the thrust of the steel, and the wild beasts battening on the unburied soldier.Here, as it chanced, one that attempted a mighty thing, a strong-handed warrior, fighting against the press of the foe, smote through the mail that covered my head, pierced my helmet, and plunged his blade into my crest.
This sword also hath often been driven by my right hand in war, and, once unsheathed, hath cleft the skin and bitten into the skull."Hather, in answer, sang as follows:
