Then athwart and athwart rode Sigurd and sought the walls of the pass,
  But found no wall before him; and the road rang hard as brass
  Beneath the hoofs of Greyfell, as up and up he trod: 
  —­Was it the daylight of Hell, or the night of the doorway of God? 
  But lo, at the last a glimmer, and a light from the west there came,
  And another and another, like points of far-off flame;
  And they grew and brightened and gathered; and whiles together they ran
  Like the moonwake over the waters; and whiles they were scant and wan,
  Some greater and some lesser, like the boats of fishers laid
  About the sea of midnight; and a dusky dawn they made,
  A faint and glimmering twilight:  So Sigurd strains his eyes,
  And he sees how a land deserted all round about him lies
  More changeless than mid-ocean, as fruitless as its floor: 
  Then the heart leaps up within him, for he knows that his journey is o’er,
  And there he draweth bridle on the first of the Glittering Heath: 
  And the Wrath is waxen merry and sings in the golden sheath
  As he leaps adown from Greyfell, and stands upon his feet,
  And wends his ways through the twilight the Foe of the Gods to meet.

Sigurd slayeth Fafnir the Serpent.

  Nought Sigurd seeth of Regin, and nought he heeds of him,
  As in watchful might and glory he strides the desert dim,
  And behind him paceth Greyfell; but he deems the time o’erlong
  Till he meet the great gold-warden, the over-lord of wrong.

  So he wendeth midst the silence through the measureless desert place,
  And beholds the countless glitter with wise and steadfast face,
  Till him-seems in a little season that the flames grown somewhat wan,
  And a grey thing glimmers before him, and becomes a mighty man,
  One-eyed and ancient-seeming, in cloud-grey raiment clad;
  A friendly man and glorious, and of visage smiling-glad: 
  Then content in Sigurd groweth because of his majesty,
  And he heareth him speak in the desert as the wind of the winter sea: 

  “Hail Sigurd!  Give me thy greeting ere thy ways alone thou wend!”

  Said Sigurd:  “Hail!  I greet thee, my friend and my fathers’ friend.”

  “Now whither away,” said the elder, “with the Steed and the ancient Sword?”

  “To the greedy house,” said Sigurd, “and the King of the Heavy Hoard.”

  “Wilt thou smite, O Sigurd, Sigurd?” said the ancient mighty-one.

  “Yea, yea, I shall smite,” said the Volsung, “save the Gods have slain the
       sun.”

  “What wise wilt thou smite,” said the elder, “lest the dark devour thy day?”

  “Thou hast praised the sword,” said the child, “and the sword shall find a
       way.”

  “Be learned of me,” said the Wise-one, “for I was the first of thy folk.”

  Said the child:  “I shall do thy bidding, and for thee shall I strike the
       stroke.”