But now on the dais he meeteth the kin of Giuki the wise: 
    Lo, here is the crowned Grimhild, the queen of the glittering eyes;
    Lo, here is the goodly Gunnar with the face of a king’s desire;
    Lo, here is Hogni that holdeth the wisdom tried in the fire;
    Lo, here is Guttorm the youngest, who longs for the meeting swords;
    Lo, here, as a rose in the oak-boughs, amid the Niblung lords
    Is the Maid of the Niblungs standing, the white-armed Giuki’s child;
    And all these looked long on Sigurd and their hearts upon him smiled.

    So Grimhild greeted the guest, and she deemed him fair and sweet,
    And she deemed him mighty of men, and a king for the queen-folk meet. 
    Then Gunnar the goodly war-king spake forth his greeting and speed,
    And deemed him noble and great, and a fellow for kings in their need: 
    And Hogni gave him his greeting, and none his eyes might dim,
    And he smiled as the winter sun on the shipless ocean’s rim. 
    Then greeted him Guttorm the young, and cried out that his heart was
      glad
    That the Volsung lived in their house, that a King of the Kings they
      had. 
    Then silent awhile the Maiden, the fair-armed Gudrun, stood,
    Yet might all men see by her visage that she deemed his coming good;
    But at last the gold she taketh, and before him doth she stand,
    And she poureth the wine of King-folk, and stretcheth forth her hand,
    And she saith:  “Hail, Sigurd the Volsung! may I see thy joy increase,
    And thy shielded sons beside thee, and thy days grown old in peace!”

    And he took the cup from her hand, and drank, while his heart rejoiced
    At the Niblung Maiden’s beauty, and her blessing lovely-voiced;
    And he thanked her well for the greeting, and no guile in his heart
      was grown,
    But he thought of his love enfolded in the arms of his renown.

    So the Niblungs feast glad-hearted through the undark night and kind,
    And the burden of all sorrow seems fallen far behind
    On the road their lives have wended ere that happiest night of nights,
    And the careless days and quiet seem but thieves of their delights;
    For their hearts go forth before them toward the better days to come,
    When all the world of glory shall be called the Niblungs’ home: 
    Yea, as oft in the merry season and the morning of the May
    The birds break out a-singing for the world’s face waxen gay,
    And they flutter there in the blossoms, and run through the dewy grass,
    As they sing the joy of the spring-tide, that bringeth the summer to
      pass;
    And they deem that for them alone was the earth wrought long ago. 
    And no hate and no repentance, and no fear to come they know;
    So fared the feast of the Niblungs on the eve that Sigurd came
    In the day of their deeds triumphant, and the blossom of their fame.