* * * * *

  And for all the words of Volsung e’en so must the matter be,
  And Siggeir the Goth and Signy on the morn shall sail the sea.

Then the feast sped on the fairer, far into the night, but amidst the mirth Sigmund and Signy were sad at heart.  And before the sun was risen next day Signy came to her father in secret and begged him to stay in his own country rather than trust the guileful heart and murder-loving hand of Siggeir.  But Volsung answered that he must go to be Siggeir’s guest, for he could not break his pledged word through fear of peril.  So on the morrow the smooth-speeched Siggeir departed with Signy, and when two months were passed Volsung made ready to visit them.

How the Volsungs fared to the Land of the Goths, and of the fall of King Volsung.

* * * * *

  So now, when all things were ready, in the first of the autumn tide
  Adown unto the swan-bath the Volsung Children ride;
  And lightly go a shipboard, a goodly company,
  Though the tale thereof be scanty and their ships no more than three: 
  But kings’ sons dealt with the sail-sheets and earls and dukes of war
  Were the halers of the hawsers and the tuggers at the oar.

* * * * *

  But when the sun on the morrow shone over earth and sea
  Ashore went the Volsung Children a goodly company,
  And toward King Siggeir’s dwelling o’er heath and holt they went. 
  But when they came to the topmost of a certain grassy bent,
  Lo there lay the land before them as thick with shield and spear
  As the rich man’s wealthiest acre with the harvest of the year. 
  There bade King Volsung tarry and dight the wedge-array;
  “For duly,” he said, “doeth Siggeir to meet his guests by the way.” 
  So shield by shield they serried, nor ever hath been told
  Of any host of battle more glorious with the gold;
  And there stood the high King Volsung in the very front of war;
  And lovelier was his visage than ever heretofore,
  As he rent apart the peace-strings that his brand of battle bound
  And the bright blade gleamed to the heavens, and he cast the sheath to the
       ground. 
  Then up the steep came the Goth-folk, and the spear-wood drew anigh,
  And earth’s face shook beneath them, yet cried they never a cry;
  And the Volsungs stood all silent, although forsooth at whiles
  O’er the faces grown earth-weary would play the flickering smiles,
  And swords would clink and rattle:  not long had they to bide,
  For soon that flood of murder flowed round the hillock-side;
  Then at last the edges mingled, and if men forbore the shout,
  Yet the din of steel and iron in the grey clouds rang about;
  But how to tell of King Volsung, and the valour of his folk! 
  Three times the wood of battle before their edges broke;