left
    To remember the woe of Brynhild, and the joy from her life-days reft;
    Lest the grey wolf howl in the hall, and the wood-king roll in the
      porch,
    And the moon through thy broken rafters be the Niblungs’ feastful
      torch.”

    “O God-folk hearken,” cried Gudrun, “what a tale there is to tell! 
    How a Queen hath cursed her people, and the folk that hath cherished
      her well!”

    “O Niblung child,” said Brynhild, “what bitterer curse may be
    Than the curse of Grimhild thy mother, and the womb that carried thee?”

    “Ah fool!” said the wife of Sigurd, “wilt thou curse thy very friend? 
    But the bitter love bewrays thee, and thy pride that nought shall end.”

    “Do I curse the accursed?” said Brynhild, “but yet the day shall come,
    When thy word shall scarce be better on the threshold of thine home;
    When thine heart shall be dulled and chilly with e’en such a mingling
      of might,
    As in Sigurd’s cup she mingled, and thou shalt not remember aright.”

    Out-brake the child of the Niblungs:  “A witless lie is this;
    But thou sickenest sore for Sigurd, and the giver of all bliss: 
    A ruthless liar thou art:  thou wouldst cut off my glory and gain,
    Though it further thine own hope nothing, and thy longing be empty
      and vain. 
    Ah, thou hungerest after mine husband!—­yet greatly art thou wed,
    And high o’er the kings of the Goth-folk doth Gunnar rear the head.”

    “Which one of the sons of Giuki,” said Brynhild, “durst to ride
    Through the waves of my Flickering Fire to lie by Brynhild’s side? 
    Thou shouldst know him, O Sister of Kings; let the glorious name be
      said,
    Lest mine oath in the water be written, and I wake up, vile and
      betrayed,
    In the arms of the faint-heart dastard, and of him that loveth life,
    And casteth his deeds to another, and the wooing of his wife.”

    “Yea, hearken,” said she of the Niblungs, “what words the stranger
      saith! 
    Hear the words of the fool of love, how she feareth not the death,
    Nor to cry the shame on Gunnar, whom the King-folk tremble before: 
    The wise and the overcomer, the crown of happy war!”

    Said Brynhild:  “Long were the days ere the Son of Sigmund came;
    Long were the days and lone, but nought I dreamed of the shame. 
    So may the day come, Grimhild, when thine eyes know not thy son! 
    Think then on the man I knew not, and the deed thy guile hath done!”

    Then coldly laughed Queen Gudrun, and she said:  “Wilt thou lay all
      things
    On the woman that hath loved thee and the Mother of the Kings? 
    O all-wise Queen of the Niblungs, was this change too hard a part
    For the learned in the lore of Regin, who ate of the Serpent’s heart?”