And Sigurd showed us the treasure, and won us the ruddy rings
    From the jaws of the treason and death, and redeemed our lives from
      the snare,
    That the uttermost days might know it, and the day of the Niblungs be
      fair: 
    And all this he giveth to thee, as the Gods give harvest and gain,
    And sit in their thrones of the heavens of the praise of the people
      fain.”

    Then Sigurd passed through the hall, and fair was the light of his
      eyes,
    And he came to King Giuki the ancient, and Grimhild the overwise,
    And stooped to the elder of days and kissed the war-wise head;
    And they loved him passing sore as a very son of their bed. 
    But he stood in the sight of the people, and sweet he was to see,
    And no foe and no betrayer, and no envier now hath he: 
    But Gunnar the bright in the battle deems him his earthly friend,
    And Hogni is fain of his fellow, howso the day’s work end,
    And Guttorm the young is joyous of the help and gifts he hath;
    And all these would shine beside him in the glory of his path;
    There is none to hate or hinder, or mar the golden day,
    And the light of love flows plenteous, as the sun-beams hide the way.

    Now there was the white-armed Gudrun, the lovely Giuki’s child,
    And her eyes beheld his glory, but her heart was unbeguiled,
    And the dear hope fainted in her:  I am frail and weak, she saith,
    And he so great and glorious with the eyes that look on death! 
    Yet she comes, and speaks before him as she bears the golden horn: 
    “The world is glad, O Sigurd, that ever thou wert born,
    And I with the world am rejoicing:  drink now to the Niblung bliss,
    That I, a deedless maiden, may thank thee well for this!”

    So he drank of the cup at her bidding and laughed, and said, “Forsooth,
    Good-will with the cup is blended, and the very heart of ruth: 
    Yet meseems thy words are merrier than thine inmost soul this eve;
    Nay, cast away thy sorrow, lest the Kings of battle grieve!”

    She smiled and departed from him, and there in the cloudy hall
    To the feast of their glad returning the Niblung children fall;
    And far o’er the flowery lealand the shepherds of the plain
    Behold the litten windows, and know that Kings are fain.

    So fares the tale of Sigurd through all kingdoms of the earth,
    And the tale is told of his doings by the utmost ocean’s girth;
    And fair feast the merchants deem it to warp their sea-beat ships
    High up the Niblung River, that their sons may hear his lips
    Shed fair words o’er their ladings and the opened southland bales;
    Then they get them aback to their countries, and tell how all men’s
      tales
    Are nought, and vain and empty in setting forth his grace,
    And the unmatched words of