And he drank of the Cup of the Promise, and fair as a star he shone,
    And all men rejoiced and wondered, and deemed Earth’s glory won.

    Then came the girded maidens, and the slim earls’ daughters poured,
    And uprose the dark-haired Gunnar and bare was the Niblung sword;
    Blue it gleamed in the hand of the folk-king as he laid it low on
      the Beast,
    And took oath as the Goths of aforetime in the hush of the people’s
      feast: 
    “I will work for the craving of Kings, and accomplish the will of the
      great,
    Nor ask what God withstandeth, nor hearken the tales of fate;
    When a King my life hath exalted, and wrought for my hope and my gain,
    For every deed he hath done me, thereto shall I fashion twain. 
    I shall bear forth the fame of the Niblungs through all that hindereth;
    In my life shall I win great glory, and be merry in my death.”

    So sweareth the lovely war-king and drinketh of the Cup,
    And the joy of the people waxeth and their glad cry goeth up. 
    But again came the girded maidens:  earls’ daughters pour the wine,
    And bare is the blade of Hogni in the feast-hall over the Swine;
    Then he cries o’er the hallowed Wood-beast:  “Earth, hearken, how I
      swear
    To beseech no man for his helping, and to vex no God with prayer;
    And to seek out the will of the Norns, and look in the eyes of the
      curse;
    And to laugh while the love aboundeth, lest the glad world grow into
      worse;
    Then if in the murder I laugh not, O Earth, remember my name,
    And oft tell it aloud to the people for the Niblungs’ fated shame!”

    Then he drank of the Cup of the Promise, and all men hearkened and
      deemed
    That his speech was great and valiant, and as one of the wise he
      seemed.

    Then the linen-folded maidens of the earl-folk lift the gold
    But the earls look each on the other, and Guttorm’s place behold,
    And empty it lieth before them; for the child hath wearied of peace,
    And he sits by the oars in the East-seas, and winneth fame’s increase. 
    Nor then, nor ever after, o’er the Holy Beast he spake,
    When mighty hearts were exalted for the golden Sigurd’s sake.

    But now crieth Giuki the Ancient:  “O fair sons, well have ye sworn,
    And gladdened my latter-ending, and my kingly hours outworn;
    Full fain from the halls of Odin on the world’s folk shall I gaze
    And behold all hearts rejoicing in the Niblungs’ glorious days.”

    Glad cries of earls rose upward and beat on the cloudy roof,
    And went forth on the drift of the autumn to the mountains far aloof: 
    Speech stirred in the hearts of the singers, and the harps might not
      refrain,
    And they called on the folk of aforetime of the Niblung joy to be fain.