“It is well with my house,” said Gudrun, “and my brethren’s days are
      fair,
    And my mother’s morns are joyous, and her eves have done with care;
    And my father’s heart is happy, and the Niblung glory grows,
    And the land in peace is lying ’neath the lily and the rose: 
    But love and the mirth of summer have moved my heart to come
    To look on thy measureless beauty, and seek thy glory home.”

    “O be thou welcome!” said Brynhild; “it is good when queen-folk meet. 
    Come now, O goodly sister, and sit in my golden seat: 
    There are lovely hours before us, and the half of the summer day;
    And what is the night of summer that eve should drive thee away?”

    So they sat, they twain, in the high-seat; and the maidens bore them
      wine,
    And they handled Dwarf-wrought treasures with their fingers fair and
      fine,
    And lovely they were together, and they marvelled each at each: 
    Yet oft was Gudrun silent, and she faltered in her speech,
    As they matched great Kings and their war-deeds, and told of times
      that were,
    And their fathers’ fathers’ doings, and the deaths of war-lords dear. 
    And at last the twain sat silent, and spake no word at all,
    And the western sky waxed ruddy, for the sun drew near its fall;
    And the speech of the murmuring maidens, and the voice of the toil of
      folk,
    Died out in the hall of Brynhild as the garden-song awoke.

    Then Brynhild took up the word, and her voice was soft as she said: 
    “We have told of the best of King-folk, the living and the dead;
    But hast thou heard, my sister, how the world grows fair with the word
    Of a King from the mountains coming, a great and marvellous lord,
    Who hath slain the Foe of the Gods, and the King that was wise from
      of old;
    Who hath slain the great Gold-wallower, and gotten the ancient Gold;
    And the hand of victory hath he, and the overcoming speech,
    And the heart and the eyes triumphant, and the lips that win and
      teach?”

Then met the eyes of the women, and Brynhild’s word died out,
And bright flushed Gudrun’s visage, and her lips were moved with doubt. 
But again spake Brynhild the wise: 
“He is come of a marvellous kin,
And of men that never faltered, and goodly days shall he win: 
Yea now to this land is he coming, and great shall be his fame;
He is born of the Volsung King-folk, and Sigurd is his name.”

Then all the heart laughed in her, but the speech of her lips died out,
And red and pale waxed Gudrun, and her lips were moved with doubt,
Till she spake as a Queen of the Earth: 
“Sister, the day grows late,
And meseemeth the watch of the earl-folk looks oft from the Niblung
gate
For the gleam of our golden wains and the dust-cloud thin and soft;