Dull sleep she deemed was better than with turmoiled thought to strive: 
    But there rode a wife in the wood, a queen of the daughters of men,
    And she came where Gudrun abided, whose might was minished as then,
    Till she was as a child forgotten; nor that queen might she gainsay;
    Who took the white-armed Gudrun, and bore my daughter away
    To her burg o’er the hither mountains; there she cherished her soft
      and sweet,
    Till she rose, from death delivered, and went upon her feet: 
    She awoke and beheld those strangers, a trusty folk and a kind,
    A goodly and simple people, that few lords of war shall find: 
    Glorious and mighty they deemed her, as an outcast wandering God,
    And she loved their loving-kindness, and the fields of the tiller she
      trod,
    And went ’twixt the rose and the lily, and sat in the chamber of wool,
    And smiled at the laughing maidens, and sang over shuttle and spool. 
    Seven seasons there hath she bided, and this have I wotted for long;
    But I knew that her heart is as mine to remember the grief and the
      wrong,
    So the days of thy sister I told not, in her life would I have no part,
    Lest a foe for thy life I should fashion, and sharpen a sword for thine
      heart: 
    But now is the day of our deeds, and no longer durst I refrain,
    Lest I put the Gods’ hands from me, and make their gifts but vain. 
    Yea, the woman is of the Niblungs, and often I knew her of old,
    How her heart would burn within her when the tale of their glory was
      told. 
    With wisdom and craft shall I work, with the gifts that Odin hath
      given,
    Wherewith my fathers of old, and the ancient mothers have striven.”

    “Thy word is good,” quoth Gunnar, “a happy word indeed: 
    Lo, how shall I fear a woman, who have played with kings in my need? 
    Yea, how may I speak of my sister, save well remembering
    How goodly she was aforetime, how fair in everything,
    How kind in the days passed over, how all fulfilled of love
    For the glory of the Niblungs, and the might that the world shall move? 
    She shall see my face and Hogni’s, she shall yearn to do our will,
    And the latter days of her brethren with glory shall fulfil.”

    Then Grimhild laughed and answered:  “Today then shalt thou ride
    To the dwelling of Thora the Queen, for there doth thy sister abide.”

    As she spake came the wise-heart Hogni, and that speech of his mother
      he heard,
    And he said:  “How then are ye saying a new and wonderful word,
    That ye meddle with Gudrun’s sorrow, and her grief of heart awake? 
    Will ye draw out a dove from her nest, and a worm to your hall-hearth
      take?”

    “What then,” said his brother Gunnar, “shall we thrust by Atli’s word? 
    Shall we strive, while the world is mocking, with the might of the
      Eastland sword,
    While the wise are mocking to see it, how the great devour the great?”