happy, as the King his voice upraised;
    There he sang of the works of Odin, and the hails of the heavenly
      coast,
    And the sons of God uprising, and the Wolflings’ gathering host;
    And he told of the birth of Rerir, and of Volsung yet unborn,
    All the deeds of his father’s father, and his battles overworn;
    Then he told of Signy and Sigmund, and the changing of their lives;
    Tales of great kings’ departing, and their kindred and their wives. 
    But his song and his fond desire go up to the cloudy roof,
    And blend with the eagles’ shrilling in the windy night aloof. 
    So he made an end of his story, and he sat and longed full sore
    That the days of all his longing as a story might be o’er: 
    But the wonder of the people, and their love of Sigurd grew,
    And green grew the tree of the Volsungs, as the Branstock blossomed
      anew.

    Now up rose Grimhild the wise-wife, and she stood by Sigurd and said: 
    “There is none of the kings of kingdoms that may match thy goodlihead: 
    Lo now, thou hast sung of thy fathers; but men shall sing of thee,
    And therewith shall our house be remembered, and great shall our
      glory be. 
    I beseech thee hearken a little to a faithful word of mine,
    When thou of this cup hast drunken; for my love is blent with the
      wine.”

    He laughed and took the cup:  But therein with the blood of the earth
    Earth’s hidden might was mingled, and deeds of the cold sea’s birth,
    And things that the high Gods turn from, and a tangle of strange love,
    Deep guile, and strong compelling, that whoso drank thereof
    Should remember not his longing, should cast his love away,
    Remembering dead desire but as night remembereth day.

    So Sigurd looked on the horn, and he saw how fair it was scored
    With the cunning of the Dwarf-kind and the masters of the sword;
    And he drank and smiled on Grimhild above the beaker’s rim,
    And she looked and laughed at his laughter; and the soul was changed
      in him. 
    Men gazed and their hearts sank in them, and they knew not why it was,
    Why the fair-lit hall was darkling, nor what had come to pass: 
    For they saw the sorrow of Sigurd, who had seen but his deeds erewhile,
    And the face of the mighty darkened, who had known but the light of
      its smile.

    But Grimhild looked and was merry:  and she deemed her life was great,
    And her hand a wonder of wonders to withstand the deeds of Fate: 
    For she saw by the face of Sigurd and the token of his eyes
    That her will had abased the valiant, and filled the faithful with
      lies,
    And blinded the God-born seer, and turned the steadfast athwart,
    And smitten the pride of the joyous, and the hope of the eager heart;
    The hush of the hall she hearkened,