his war-helm, and they wonder at his sword,
    And the tinkling rings of his hauberk, and the rings of the ancient
      Hoard: 
    And they say:  Are the Gods on the earth? did the world change
      yesternight? 
    Are the sons of Odin coming, and the days of Baldur the bright?

    But forth stood Heimir the ancient, and of Gods and men was he chief
    Of all who have handled the harp; and he stood betwixt blossom and
      leaf,
    And thrust his spear in the earth and cast abroad his hands: 
    “Hail, thou that ridest hither from the North and the desert lands! 
    Now thy face is turned to our hall-door and thereby must be thy way;
    And, unless the time so presseth that thou ridest night and day,
    It were good that thou lie in my house, and hearken the clink of the
      horn,
    Whether peace in thy hand thou bear us, or war on thy saddle be borne;
    Whether wealth thou seek, or friends, or kin, or a maiden lost,
    Or hast heart for the building of cities nor wilt hold thee aback for
      the cost;
    If fame thou wilt have among King-folk, to the land of the Kings art
      thou come,
    Or wouldst thou adown to the sea-flood, thou must pass by the garth
      of our home. 
    Yea art thou a God from the heavens, who wilt deem me little of worth,
    And art come for the wrack of my realm and wilt cast King Heimir forth,
    Thou knowest I fear thee nothing, and no worse shall thy welcome be: 
    Or art thou a wolf of the hearth, none here shall meddle with thee:—­
    Yet lo, as I look on thine eyen, and behold thy hope and thy mirth,
    Meseems thou art better than these, some son of the Kings of the
      Earth.”

    Then spake the treasure-bestrider,—­for his horse e’en now had he
      reined
    By the King and the earls of the people where the boughs of the
      thicket waned:—­
    “Yea I am a son of the Kings; but my kin have passed away,
    And once were they called the Volsungs, and the sons of God were they: 
    I am young, but have learned me wisdom; I am lone, but deeds have I
      done;
    I have slain the Foe of the Gods, and the Bed of the Worm have I won. 
    But meseems that the earth is lovely, and that each day springeth anew
    And beareth the blossom of hope, and the fruit of deeds to do. 
    And herein thou sayest the sooth, that I seek the fame of Kings,
    And with them would I do and undo and be heart of their warfarings: 
    And for this o’er the Glittering Heath to the kingdoms of earth am I
      come,
    And over the head of Hindfell, and I seek the earl-folk’s home
    That is called the lea of Lymdale ’twixt the wood and the water-side;
    For men call it the gate of the world where the Kings of Men abide: 
    Nor the least of God-folk am I, nor the wolf of the Kings accursed,
    But Sigurd the son of Sigmund in the land of the Helper nursed: 
    And I thank thee, lord, for thy bidding, and tonight will I bide in
      thine hall,
    And fare on the morrow to Lymdale and the deeds thenceforward to fall.”