She laughs and leaps, and about her the glittering waters spring: 
    But Brynhild laugheth in answer, and her face is white and wan
    As swift she taketh the water; and the bed-gear of the swan
    Wreathes long folds round about her as she wadeth straight and swift
    Where the white-scaled slender fishes make head against the drift: 
    Then she turned to the white-armed Gudrun, who stood far down the
      stream
    In the lapping of the west-wind and the rippling shallows’ gleam,
    And her laugh went down the waters, as the war-horn on the wind,
    When the kings of war are seeking, and their foes are fain to find.

    But Gudrun cried upon her, and said:  “Why wadest thou so
    In the deeps and the upper waters, and wilt leave me here below?”

    Then e’en as one transfigured loud Brynhild cried, and said: 
    “So oft shall it be between us at hall and board and bed;
    E’en so in Freyia’s garden shall the lilies cover me,
    While thou on the barren footways thy gown-hem folk shall see: 
    E’en so shall the gold cloths lap me, when we sit in Odin’s hall,
    While thou shiverest, little hidden, by thy lord, the Helper’s thrall,
    By the serving-man of Gunnar, who all his bidding doth,
    And waits by the door of the bower while his master plighteth the
      troth: 
    But my mate is the King of the King-folk who rode the Wavering Fire,
    And mocked at the ruddy death to win his heart’s desire. 
    Lo now, it is meet and righteous that ye of the happy days
    Should bow the heads and wonder at the wedding all men praise. 
    O, is it not goodly and sweet with the best of the earth to dwell,
    And the man that all shall worship when the tale grows old to tell! 
    For the woe and the anguish endure not, but the tale and the fame
      endure,
    And as wavering wind is the joyance, but the Gods’ renown shall
      be sure: 
    It is well, O ye troth-breakers! there was found a man to ride
    Through the waves of my Flickering Fire to lie by Brynhild’s side.”

    Then no word answered Gudrun till she waded up the stream
    And stretched forth her hand to Brynhild, and thereon was a golden
      gleam,
    And she spake, and her voice was but little: 
                              “Thou mayst know by this token and sign
    If the best of the kings of man-folk and the master of masters is
      thine.”

    White waxed the face of Brynhild as she looked on the glittering thing: 
    And she spake:  “By all thou lovest, whence haddest thou the ring?”

    Then Gudrun laughed in her glory the face of the Queen to see: 
    “Thinkst thou that my brother Gunnar gave the Dwarf-wrought ring to
      me?”

    Nought spake the glorious woman, but as one who clutcheth a knife
    She turned on the mocking Gudrun, and again spake Sigurd’s wife: