With a dreadful voice cried Gunnar:  “O fool, hast thou heard it told
    Who won the Treasure aforetime and the ruddy rings of the Gold? 
    It was Sigurd, child of the Volsungs, the best sprung forth from the
      best: 
    He rode from the North and the mountains and became my summer-guest. 
    My friend and my brother sworn:  he rode the Wavering Fire
    And won me the Queen of Glory and accomplished my desire;
    The praise of the world he was, the hope of the biders in wrong,
    The help of the lowly people, the hammer of the strong: 
    Ah, oft in the world henceforward shall the tale be told of the deed,
    And I, e’en I, will tell it in the day of the Niblungs’ Need: 
    For I sat night-long in my armour, and when light was wide o’er the
      land
    I slaughtered Sigurd my brother, and looked on the work of mine hand. 
    And now, O mighty Atli, I have seen the Niblungs’ wreck,
    And the feet of the faint-heart dastard have trodden Gunnar’s neck;
    And if all be little enough, and the Gods begrudge me rest,
    Let me see the heart of Hogni cut quick from his living breast,
    And laid, on the dish before me:  and then shall I tell of the Gold,
    And become thy servant, Atli, and my life at thy pleasure hold. 
    O goodly story of Gunnar, and the King of the broken troth
    In the heavy Need of the Niblungs, and the Sorrow of Odin the Goth!”

    Grim then waxed Atli bemocked, yet he pondered a little while,
    For yet with his bitter anger strove the hope of his greedy guile,
    And as one who falleth a-dreaming he hearkened Gunnar’s word,
    While his eyes beheld that Treasure, and the rings of the Ancient
      Hoard.

    But he spake low-voiced to his sword-carles, and they heard and
      understood,
    And departed swift from the feast-hall to do the work he would. 
    To the chamber of death they gat them, to the pit they went adown,
    And saw the wise men sitting round the war-king of renown: 
    Then they spake:  “We are Atli’s bondmen, and Atli’s doom we bring: 
    We shall carve the heart from thy body, and thou living yet, O King.”

    Then Hogni laughed, for they feared him; and he said:  “Speed ye the
      work! 
    For fain would I look on the storehouse where such marvels used to
      lurk,
    And the forge of fond desires, and the nurse of life that fails. 
    Take heed now! deeds are doing for the fashioners of tales.”

    But they feared as they looked on the Niblung, and the wise men
      hearkened and spake,
    And bade them abide for a season, yea even for Atli’s sake,
    For the night-slaying is as the murder; and they looked on each other
      and feared,
    For Atli’s bitter whisper their very hearts had heard: 
    Then they said:  “The King makes merry, as a well the white wine
      springs,
    And the red wine runs as a river; and what are the hearts of kings,
    That men may know them naked from the hearts of bond and thrall? 
    Nor go we empty-handed to King Atli in his hall.”