Then Brynhild turned unto Hogni, and he greeted her fair and well,
And she prayed all blessings upon him, and a tale that the world
should tell: 
Then again she spake unto Gunnar:  “I had deemed ye had been but three
Who sprang from the loins of Giuki; is this fourth akin unto thee,
This hall-abider the mighty?”
He said:  “He is nought of our blood. 
But the Gods have sent him to usward to work us measureless good: 
It is even Sigurd the Volsung, the best man ever born,
The man that the Gods withstand not, my friend, and my brother sworn.”

She heard the name, and she changed not, but her feet went forth as
he led,
And under the cloudy roof-tree Queen Brynhild bowed her head. 
Then, were there a man so ancient as had lived beyond his peers
On the earth, that beareth all things, a twice-told tale of years,
He had heard no sound so mighty as the shout that shook the wall
When Brynhild’s feet unhearkened first trod the Niblung hall. 
No whit the clamour stirred her; but her godlike eyes she raised
And betwixt the hedge of the earl-folk on the golden high-seat gazed,
And the man that sat by Gudrun:  but e’en as the rainless cloud
Ere the first of the tempest ariseth the latter sun doth shroud,
And men look round and shudder, so Grimhild came between
The silent golden Sigurd and the eyes of the mighty Queen,
And again heard Brynhild greeting, and again she spake and said: 

    “O Mother of the Niblungs, such hap be on thine head,
    As thy love for me, the stranger, was past the pain of words! 
    Mayst thou see thy son’s sons glorious in the meeting of the swords! 
    Mayst thou sleep and doubt thee nothing of the fortunes of thy race! 
    Mayst thou hear folk call yon high-seat the earth’s most happy place!”

    Then the Wise-wife hushed before her, and a little fell aside,
    And nought from the eyes of Brynhild the high-seat now did hide;
    And the face so long desired, unchanged from time agone,
    In the house of the Cloudy People from the Niblung high-seat shone: 
    She stood with her hand in Gunnar’s, and all about and around
    Were the unfamiliar faces, and the folk that day had found;
    But her heart ran back through the years, and yet her lips did move
    With the words she spake on Hindfell, when they plighted troth of love.

    Lo, Sigurd fair on the high-seat by the white-armed Gudrun’s side,
    In the midst of the Cloudy People, in the dwelling of their pride! 
    His face is exceeding glorious and awful to behold;
    For of all his sorrow he knoweth and his hope smit dead and cold: 
    The will of the Norns is accomplished, and, lo, they wend on their
      ways,
    And leave the mighty Sigurd to deal with the latter days: 
    The Gods look down from heaven, and the lonely King they see,
    And sorrow over his sorrow,