Then as evening drew on, boding of evil fell on Gudrun, and she sought her brothers that they might plead with Brynhild to pardon her and forget her bitter taunts.

But Gunnar she found seated alone arrayed in his war-gear and on his knees lay his sword, neither would he hear any word of further pleading with Brynhild.

Then sought she Hogni, and behold, he was in the like guise, and sat as one that waits for a foe.  So she sped to Sigurd, but chill fear fell on her beholding him, for he was dight in the Helm of Aweing and his golden hauberk, and the Wrath lay on his knees, neither would he then speak to Brynhild.

So that heavy night passed away and there was but little sleep in the abode of the Niblungs.  And with the dawn Sigurd arose and sought Brynhild’s chamber where she lay as one dead.  Like a pillar of light he stood in the sunshine and the Wrath rattled by his side.  And Brynhild looked on him and said:  “Art thou come to behold me?  Thou—­the mightiest and the worst of my betrayers.”  Then for very grief the breast of Sigurd heaved so that the rings of his byrny burst asunder and he cried:  “O live, Brynhild beloved!  For hereafter shalt thou know of the snare and the lie that entrapped us and the measureless grief of my soul.”  “It is o’erlate,” said Brynhild, “for I may live no longer and the gods have forgotten the earth.”  And in such despair must he leave her.

Of the slaying of Sigurd the Volsung.

Then at high noon Brynhild sent for Gunnar and sought to whet him to the slaying of Sigurd, for to such hatred was her love turned.

  “I look upon thee,” said Brynhild, “I know thy race and thy name,
  Yet meseems the deed thou sparest, to amend thine evil and shame.”

  “Nought, nought,” he said, “may amend it, save the hungry eyeless sword,
  And the war without hope or honour, and the strife without reward.”

  “Thou hast spoken the word,” said Brynhild, “if the word is enough, it is
       well. 
  Let us eat and drink and be merry, that all men of our words may tell!”

  “O all-wise woman,” said Gunnar, “what deed lieth under the tongue? 
  What day for the dearth of the people, when the seed of thy sowing hath
       sprung?”

  She said:  “Our garment is Shame, and nought the web shall rend,
  Save the day without repentance, and the deed that nought may amend.”

  “Speak, mighty of women,” said Gunnar, “and cry out the name and the deed
  That the ends of the Earth may hearken, and the Niblungs’ grievous Need.” 
  “To slay,” she said, “is the deed, to slay a King ere the morn,
  And the name is Sigurd the Volsung, my love and thy brother sworn.”