He said:  “It is sharper to bear than the bitter sword in the breast,
    O woe, to think of it now in the days of our gleaning of rest!”

    Said Brynhild:  “I bid thee remember the word that I have sworn,
    How the sun shall turn to blackness, and the last day be outworn,
    Ere I forget thee, Sigurd, and the kindness of thy face.”

    And they kissed and the day grew later and noon failed the golden
      place. 
    But Sigurd said:  “O Brynhild, remember how I swore
    That the sun should die in the heavens and day come back no more,
    Ere I forget thy wisdom and thine heart of inmost love. 
    Lo now, shall I unsay it, though the Gods be great above,
    Though my life should last for ever, though I die tomorrow morn,
    Though I win the realm of the world, though I sink to the
      thrall-folk’s scorn?”

    She said:  “Thou shalt never unsay it, and thy heart is mine indeed: 
    Thou shalt bear my love in thy bosom as thou helpest the earth-folk’s
      need: 
    Thou shalt wake to it dawning by dawning; thou shalt sleep and it
      shall not be strange: 
    There is none shall thrust between us till our earthly lives shall
      change. 
    Ah, my love shall fare as a banner in the hand of thy renown,
    In the arms of thy fame accomplished shall it lie when we lay us adown. 
    O deathless fame of Sigurd!  O glory of my lord! 
    O birth of the happy Brynhild to the measureless reward!”

    So they sat as the day grew dimmer, and they looked on days to come,
    And the fair tale speeding onward, and the glories of their home;
    And they saw their crowned children and the kindred of the kings,
    And deeds in the world arising and the day of better things;
    All the earthly exaltation, till their pomp of life should be passed,
    And soft on the bosom of God their love should be laid at the last.

    But when words have a long while failed them, and the night is nigh
      at hand,
    They arise in the golden glimmer, and apart and anigh they stand: 
    Then Brynhild stooped to the Wrath, and touched the hilts of the sword,
    Ere she wound her arms round Sigurd and cherished the lips of her lord: 
    Then sweet were the tears of Brynhild, and fast and fast they fell,
    And the love that Sigurd uttered, what speech of song may tell?

    But he turned and departed from her, and her feet on the threshold
      abode
    As he went through the pillared feast-hall, and forth to the night
      he rode: 
    So he turned toward the dwelling of Heimir and his love and his fame
      seemed one,
    And all full-well accomplished, what deeds soe’er were done: 
    And the love that endureth for ever, and the endless hope he bore. 
    As he faced the change of Heaven and the chance of worldly war.