“And some day I shall have it all, his gold and his craft and his heart
  And the gathered and garnered wisdom he guards in the mountains apart.”

* * * * *

  And he spake:  “Hast thou hearkened, Sigurd, wilt thou help a man that is old
  To avenge him for his father?  Wilt thou win that Treasure of Gold
  And be more than the Kings of the earth?  Wilt thou rid the earth of a wrong
  And heal the woe and the sorrow my heart hath endured o’erlong?”

  Then Sigurd looked upon him with steadfast eyes and clear,
  And Regin drooped and trembled as he stood the doom to hear: 
  But the bright child spake as aforetime, and answered the Master and said: 
  “Thou shalt have thy will, and the Treasure, and take the curse on thine
       head.”

Of the forging of the Sword that is called The Wrath of Sigurd.

* * * * *

But when the morrow was come he went to his mother and spake: 
“The shards, the shards of the sword, that thou gleanedst for my sake
In the night on the field of slaughter, in the tide when my father fell,
Hast thou kept them through sorrow and joyance? hast thou warded them trusty
and well? 
Where hast thou laid them, my mother?”
Then she looked upon him and said: 
“Art thou wroth, O Sigurd my son, that such eyes are in thine head? 
And wilt thou be wroth with thy mother? do I withstand thee at all?”

“Nay,” said he, “nought am I wrathful, but the days rise up like a wall
Betwixt my soul and the deeds, and I strive to rend them through.

* * * * *

“Now give me the sword, my mother, that Sigmund gave thee to keep.”

  She said:  “I shall give it thee gladly, for fain shall I be of thy praise
  When thou knowest my careful keeping of that hope of the earlier days.”

  So she took his hand in her hand, and they went their ways, they twain;
  Till they came to the treasure of queen-folk, the guarded chamber of gain: 
  They were all alone with its riches, and she turned the key in the gold,
  And lifted the sea-born purple, and the silken web unrolled,
  And lo, ’twixt her hands and her bosom the shards of Sigmund’s sword;
  No rust-fleck stained its edges, and the gems of the ocean’s hoard
  Were as bright in the hilts and glorious, as when in the Volsungs’ hall
  It shone in the eyes of the earl-folk and flashed from the shielded wall.

  But Sigurd smiled upon it, and he said:  “O Mother of Kings,
  Well hast thou warded the war-glaive for a mirror of many things,
  And a hope of much fulfilment:  well hast thou given to me
  The message of my fathers, and the word of thing to be: 
  Trusty hath been thy warding, but its hour is over now: 
  These shards shall be knit together, and shall hear the war-wind blow.”