So the day grew old about them and the joy of their desire,
    And eve and the sunset came, and faint grew the sunset fire,
    And the shadowless death of the day was sweet in the golden tide;
    But the stars shone forth on the world, and the twilight changed and
      died;
    And sure if the first of man-folk had been born to that starry night,
    And had heard no tale of the sunrise, he had never longed for the
      light: 
    But Earth longed amidst her slumber, as ’neath the night she lay,
    And fresh and all abundant abode the deeds of Day.

BOOK III.

BRYNHILD.

     IN THIS BOOK IS TOLD OF THE DEEDS OF SIGURD, AND OF HIS SOJOURN
     WITH THE NIBLUNGS, AND IN THE END OF HOW HE DIED.

    Of the Dream of Gudrun the Daughter of Giuki.

    And now of the Niblung people the tale beginneth to tell,
    How they deal with the wind and the weather; in the cloudy drift they
      dwell
    When the war is awake in the mountains, and they drive the desert
      spoil,
    And their weaponed hosts unwearied through the misty hollows toil;
    But again in the eager sunshine they scour across the plain,
    And spear by spear is quivering, and rein is laid by rein,
    And the dust is about and behind them, and the fear speeds on before,
    As they shake the flowery meadows with the fleeting flood of war. 
    Yea, when they come from the battle, and the land lies down in peace,
    No less in gear of warriors they gather earth’s increase,
    And helmed as the Gods of battle they drive the team afield: 
    These come to the council of elders with sword and spear and shield,
    And shout to their war-dukes’ dooming of their uttermost desire: 
    These never bow the helm-crest before the High-Gods’ fire
    But show their swords to Odin, and cry on Vingi-Thor
    With the dancing of the ring-mail and the smitten shields of war: 
    Yet though amid their high-tides of the deaths of men they sing,
    And of swords in the battle broken, and the fall of many a king,
    Yet they sing it wreathed with the flowers and they praise the gift
      and the gain
    Of the war-lord sped to Odin as he rends the battle atwain. 
    And their days are young and glorious, and in hope exceeding great
    With sword and harp and beaker on the skirts of the Norns they wait.

    Now the King of this folk is Giuki, and he sits in the Niblung hall
    When the song of men goes roofward and the shields shine out from the
      wall;
    And his queen in the high-seat sitteth, the woman overwise,
    Grimhild the kin of the God-folk, the wife of the glittering eyes: 
    And his sons on each hand are sitting; there is Gunnar the great and
      fair,
    With the lovely face of a