Then Sigurd goes out from before her; and the winds in the wall-nook
      strive,
    And the craving of fowl and the beast-kind with the speech of men is
      blent,
    And the voice of the sons of the Niblungs; and their day’s first hour
      is spent
    As he goes through the hall of the War-dukes, and many an earl is
      astir,
    But none durst question Sigurd lest of evil days he hear: 
    So he comes to his kingly chamber, and there sitteth Gudrun alone,
    And the fear in her soul is minished, but the love and the hatred are
      grown: 
    She is wan as the moonlit midnight; but her heart is cold and proud,
    And she asketh him nought of Brynhild, and nought he speaketh aloud.

    Of the slaying of Sigurd the Volsung.

    Ere the noon ariseth Brynhild, and forth abroad she goes,
    And sits by the wall of her bower ’twixt the lily and the rose;
    Great dread and sickness is on her, as it shall be once on the morn
    When the uttermost sun is arisen ’neath the blast of the world-shaking
      horn: 
    Her maidens come and go, but none dares cast her a word;
    From the wall the warders behold her, and turn round to the spear and
      the sword;
    Yea, few dare speak of Brynhild as morning fadeth in noon
    In the Burg of the ancient people mid the stir and the glory of June.

    Then cometh forth speech from Brynhild, and she calls to her maidens
      and saith: 
    “Go tell ye the King of the Niblungs that I am arisen from death,
    And come forth from the uttermost sickness, and with him I needs must
      speak: 
    That we look into weighty matters and due deeds for king-folk seek.”

    So they went and returned not again, and it was but a little space
    Ere she looked, and behold, it was Gunnar that stood before her face,
    And his war-gear darkened the noon-tide and the grey helm gleamed from
      his head,
    But his eyes were fearful beneath it:  then she gazed on the heavens
      and said: 

    “Thou art come, O King of the Niblungs; what mighty deed is to frame
    That thou wearest the cloudy harness, and the arms of the Niblung
      name?”

    He spake:  “O woman, thou mockest! what King of the people is here? 
    Are not all kings confounded, and all peoples’ shame laid bare? 
    Shall the Gods grow little to help, or men grow great to amend? 
    Nay, the hunt is up in the world and the Gods to the forest will wend,
    And their hearts are exceeding merry as they ride and drive the prey: 
    But what if the bear grin on them, and the wood-beast turn to bay? 
    What now if the whelp of their breeding a wolf of the world be grown,
    To cry out in the face of their brightness and mar their glad renown?”

    She heeded him not, nor hearkened:  but he said:  “Thou wert wise of old;
    And hither I come at thy bidding:  let the thought of thine heart be
      told.”