and Hogni the overwise,
    And Guttorm the young and the war-fain; and there in the door and the
      shade,
    With eyes to the earth cast downward, is the white-armed Niblung Maid. 
    But all these give Sigurd greeting, and hail him fair and well;
    And King Giuki saith: 
                          “Hail, Sigurd! what tidings wilt thou tell
    Of thy deeds since yestereven? or whitherward wentst thou?”

Then unto the earth leapt the Volsung, and gazed with doubtful brow
On the King and the Queen and the Brethren, and the white-armed
Giuki’s Child,
Yet amidst all these in a measure of his heavy heart was beguiled: 
He spread out his hands before them, and he spake: 
“O, what be ye,
Who ask of the deeds of Sigurd, and seek of the days to be? 
Are ye aught but the Niblung children? for meseems I would ask for a
gift,
But the thought of my heart is unstable, and my hope as the
winter-drift;
And the words may not be shapen.—­But speak ye, men of the earth,
Have ye any new-found tidings, or are deeds come nigh to the birth? 
Are there knots for my sword to sunder? are there thrones for my hand
to shake? 
And to which of the Gods shall I give, and from which of the Kings
shall I take? 
Or in which of the houses of man-folk henceforward shall I dwell? 
O speak, ye Niblung children, and the tale to Sigurd tell!”

    None answered a word for a space; but Gudrun wept in the door,
    And the noise of men came outward and of feet that went on the floor. 
    Then Grimhild stood before him, and took him by the hand,
    And she said:  “In the hall are gathered the earls of the Niblung land. 
    Come thou with the Mother of Kings and sit in thy place tonight,
    That the cheer of the earls may be bettered, nor the war-dukes lose
      delight.”

    “Come, brother and king,” said Gunnar, “for here of all the earth
    Is the place that may not lack thee, and the folk that loves thy
      worth.”

    “Come, Sigurd the wise,” said Hogni, “and so shall thy visage cheer
    The folk that is bold for tomorrow, and the hearts that know no fear.”

    “Come, Sigurd the keen,” said Guttorm, “for thy sword lies light in
      the sheath,
    And oft shall we ride together to face the fateful death.”

    No word at all spake Gudrun, as she stood in the doorway dim,
    But turned her face from beholding as she reached her hand to him.

    Then Sigurd nought gainsaid them, but into the hall he passed,
    And great shouts of salutation to the cloudy roof were cast,
    And rang back from the glassy pillars, and the woven God-folk stirred,
    And afar the clustering eagles on the golden roof-ridge heard,
    And cried out on the Sword of the Branstock as they cried in other
      days;
    And the harps rang out in the hall, and men sang in Sigurd’s praise.