He lifted his eyes as he thought it, for now was he come to his place,
    And there he stood by his father and met Siggeir face to face,
    And he saw him blithe and smiling, and heard him how he spake: 
    “O best of the sons of Volsung, I am merry for thy sake
    And the glory that thou hast gained us; but whereas thine hand and
      heart
    Are e’en now the lords of the battle, how lack’st thou for thy part
    A matter to better the best?  Wilt thou overgild fine gold
    Or dye the red rose redder?  So I prithee let me hold
    This sword that comes to thine hand on the day I wed thy kin. 
    For at home have I a store-house; there is mountain-gold therein
    The weight of a war-king’s harness; there is silver plenteous store;
    There is iron, and huge-wrought amber, that the southern men love sore,
    When they sell me the woven wonder, the purple born of the sea;
    And it hangeth up in that bower; and all this is a gift for thee: 
    But the sword that came to my wedding, methinketh it meet and right,
    That it lie on my knees in the council and stead me in the fight.”

    But Sigmund laughed and answered, and he spake a scornful word: 
    “And if I take twice that treasure, will it buy me Odin’s sword,
    And the gift that the Gods have given? will it buy me again to stand
    Betwixt two mightiest world-kings with a longed-for thing in mine hand
    That all their might hath missed of? when the purple-selling men
    Come buying thine iron and amber, dost thou sell thine honour then? 
    Do they wrap it in bast of the linden, or run it in moulds of earth? 
    And shalt thou account mine honour as a matter of lesser worth? 
    Came the sword to thy wedding, Goth-king, to thine hand it never came,
    And thence is thine envy whetted to deal me this word of shame.”

    Black then was the heart of Siggeir, but his face grew pale and red,
    Till he drew a smile thereover, and spake the word and said: 
    “Nay, pardon me, Signy’s kinsman! when the heart desires o’ermuch
    It teacheth the tongue ill speaking, and my word belike was such. 
    But the honour of thee and thy kindred, I hold it even as mine,
    And I love you as my heart-blood, and take ye this for a sign. 
    I bid thee now King Volsung, and these thy glorious sons,
    And thine earls and thy dukes of battle and all thy mighty ones,
    To come to the house of the Goth-kings as honoured guests and dear
    And abide the winter over; that the dusky days and drear
    May be glorious with thy presence, that all folk may praise my life,
    And the friends that my fame hath gotten; and that this my new-wed wife
    Thine eyes may make the merrier till she bear my eldest born.” 
    Then speedily answered Volsung:  “No king of the earth might scorn
    Such noble bidding, Siggeir;