So he spake as a King of the people in whom all fear is dead,
  And his anguish no man noted, as the greeting-words he said: 
  “Hail, fairest of all things fashioned! hail, thou desire of eyes! 
  Hail, chooser of the mightiest, and teacher of the wise! 
  Hail, wife of my brother Gunnar! in might may thy days endure,
  And in peace without a trouble that the world’s weal may be sure!”

* * * * *

  But the song sprang up in the hall, and the eagles cried from above
  And forth to the freshness of May went the joyance of the feast: 
  And Sigurd sat with the Niblungs, and gave ear to most and to least. 
  And showed no sign to the people of the grief that on him lay;
  Nor seemeth he worser to any than he was on the yesterday.

Of the Contention betwixt the Queens.

So now must Sigurd and Brynhild abide together in the Burg of the Niblungs, yet each must bear the burden of sorrow alone.  Brynhild held close converse with Gudrun, and behaved humbly towards her lest strife should arise between them.  But Gudrun, filled with pride that she was the wife of so great a man as Sigurd, deemed it a little matter that all others should give her honour, and knowing how Sigurd had ridden the fire, she cherished great scorn of Gunnar and Brynhild in her heart, and her pride waxed daily greater.

Of the heart-wise Hogni men tell how he grew wiser day by day and more learned in the craft of his mother Grimhild.

As for Gunnar, he lived with Brynhild in great honour and praise from all men, but the thought of how Sigurd had ridden the fire in his semblance lay heavy upon him.  He brooded thereon in bitterness and envy, and the lie shadowed his life-days so that he had but small joy in his wife.

And Grimhild, marking his heavy mood, wrought upon him with cunning words and he gave ear to her.  For ever she spake of kings’ supplanters who bear away the praise from their lords after great deeds are done, and often her talk was of the mighty power that he holdeth who knoweth the shame of a king.  So Gunnar hearkened and ill thoughts grew within him.

  But fair-faced, calm as a God who hath none to call his foes,
  Betwixt the Kings and the people the golden Sigurd goes;
  No knowledge of man he lacketh, and the lore he gained of old
  From the ancient heart of the Serpent and the Wallower on the Gold
  Springs fresh in the soul of Sigurd; the heart of Hogni he sees,
  And the heart of his brother Gunnar, and he grieveth sore for these.

* * * * *

  It was most in these latter days that his fame went far abroad,
  The helper, the overcomer, the righteous sundering sword;
  The loveliest King of the King-folk, the man of sweetest speech,
  Whose ear is dull to no man that his helping shall beseech;
  The eye-bright seer of all things, that wasteth every wrong,
  The straightener of the crooked, the hammer of the strong: 
  Lo, such was the Son of Sigmund in the days whereof I tell,
  The dread of the doom and the battle; and all children loved him well.