Then Sigurd answered and said:  “Nought such do I look to be. 
    But thou, a deedless man, too much thou eggest me: 
    And these folk are good and trusty, and the land is lovely and sweet,
    And in rest and in peace it lieth as the floor of Odin’s feet: 
    Yet I know that the world is wide, and filled with deeds unwrought;
    And for e’en such work was I fashioned, lest the songcraft come to
      nought,
    When the harps of God-home tinkle, and the Gods are at stretch to
      hearken: 
    Lest the hosts of the Gods be scanty when their day hath begun to
      darken,
    When the bonds of the Wolf wax thin, and Loki fretteth his chain. 
    And sure for the house of my fathers full oft my heart is fain,
    And meseemeth I hear them talking of the day when I shall come,
    And of all the burden of deeds, that my hand shall bear them home. 
    And so when the deed is ready, nowise the man shall lack: 
    But the wary foot is the surest, and the hasty oft turns back.”

    Then answered Regin the guileful:  “The deed is ready to hand,
    Yet holding my peace is the best, for well thou lovest the land;
    And thou lovest thy life moreover, and the peace of thy youthful days,
    And why should the full-fed feaster his hand to the rye-bread raise? 
    Yet they say that Sigmund begat thee and he looked to fashion a man. 
    Fear nought; he lieth quiet in his mound by the sea-waves wan.”

    So shone the eyes of Sigurd, that the shield against him hung
    Cast back their light as the sunbeams; but his voice to the roof-tree
      rung: 
    “Tell me, thou Master of Masters, what deed is the deed I shall do? 
    Nor mock thou the son of Sigmund lest the day of his birth thou rue.”

    Then answered the Master of Sleight:  “The deed is the righting of
      wrong,
    And the quelling a bale and a sorrow that the world hath endured
      o’erlong,
    And the winning a treasure untold, that shall make thee more than the
      kings;
    Thereof is the Helm of Aweing, the wonder of earthly things,
    And thereof is its very fellow, the War-coat all of gold,
    That has not its like in the heavens, nor has earth of its fellow
      told.”

    Then answered Sigurd the Volsung:  “How long hereof hast thou known? 
    And what unto thee is this treasure, that thou seemest to give as
      thine own?”

    “Alas!” quoth the smithying master, “it is mine, yet none of mine,
    Since my heart herein avails not, and my hand is frail and fine—­
    It is long since I first came hither to seek a man for my need;
    For I saw by a glimmering light that hence would spring the deed,
    And many a deed of the world:  but the generations passed,
    And the first of the days was as near to the end that I sought as the
      last;
    Till I looked on thine eyes in the cradle:  and now I deem through thee,
    That the end of my days of waiting, and the end of my woes shall be.”