Look down and curse for an unreverend thing
  An old bald woman who is no use at last. 
  These bleachy-threads, these tufts of death’s first combing,
  And loosening heartstrings twisted up together
  Would not make half a bowstring.  Son, forgive me....

                        GUNNAR
  A grasping woman’s gold upon her head
  Is made for hoarding, like all other gold: 
  A spendthrift woman’s gold upon her head
  Is made for spending on herself.  Let be—­
  She goes her heart’s way, and I go to earth.

  (AUNUND’S head rises above the wall near GUNNAR.)

  What, are you there?

                        AUNUND
  Yea, Gunnar, we are here.

      GUNNAR (thrusting with the bill)
  Then bide you there.

  (AUNUND’S head sinks; THORGEIR’S rises in the same place.)

How many heads have you?

                        THORGEIR
  But half as many as the feet we grow on.

                        GUNNAR
  And I’ve not yet used up (thrusting again) all my hands.

(As he thrusts another man rises a little farther back, and leaps past him into the loft.  Others follow, and GUNNAR is soon surrounded by many armed men, so that only the rising and falling of his bill is seen.)

  The threshing-floor is full....  Up, up, brain-biter! 
  We work too late to-night—­up, open the husks. 
  Oh, smite and pulse
  On their anvil heads: 
  The smithy is full,
  There are shoes to be made
  For the hoofs of the steeds
  Of the Valkyr girls....

                        FIRST MAN
                    Hack through the shaft....

                        SECOND MAN
                    Receive the blade
                    In the breast of a shield,
                    And wrench it round....

                        GUNNAR
                    For the hoofs of the steeds
                    Of the Valkyr girls
                    Who race up the night
                    To be first at our feast,
                    First in the play
                    With immortal spears
                    In deadly holes....

                        THIRD MAN
                    Try at his back....

      MANY VOICES (shouting in confusion)
  Have him down....  Heels on the bill....  Ahui, ahui....

  (The bill does not rise.)

      HROALD (with the breaking voice of a young man, high over all)
  Father....  It is my blow....  It is I who kill him.

  (The crowd parts, suddenly silent, showing GUNNAR fallen.
  RANNVEIG covers her face with her hands.)

      HALLGERD (laughing as she leans forward and holds her breasts in
        her hands)
  O clear sweet laughter of my heart, flow out! 
  It is so mighty and beautiful and blithe
  To watch a man dying—­to hover and watch.