So once hath a man been fashioned and shall not be again. 
But for me hath been foaled the war-horse, the grey steed swift as
the cloud,
And for me were the edges smithied, and the Wrath cries out aloud;
And a voice hath called from the darkness, and I ride to the
Glittering Heath;
To smite on the door of Destruction, and waken the warder of Death.”

    So they kissed, the wise and the wise, and the child from the elder
      turned;
    And again in the glimmering house-ways the golden Sigurd burned;
    He stood outside in the sunlight, and tarried never a deal,
    But leapt on the cloudy Greyfell with the clank of gold and steel,
    And he rode through the sinking day to the walls of the kingly stead,
    And came to Regin’s dwelling when the wind was fallen dead,
    And the great sun just departing:  then blood-red grew the west,
    And the fowl flew home from the sea-mead, and all things sank to rest.

    Sigurd rideth to the Glittering Heath.

    Again on the morrow morning doth Sigurd the Volsung ride,
    And Regin, the Master of Masters, is faring by his side,
    And they leave the dwelling of kings and ride the summer land,
    Until at the eve of the day the hills are on either hand: 
    Then they wend up higher and higher, and over the heaths they fare
    Till the moon shines broad on the midnight, and they sleep ’neath the
      heavens bare;
    And they waken and look behind them, and lo, the dawning of day
    And the little land of the Helper and its valleys far away;
    But the mountains rise before them, a wall exceeding great.

    Then spake the Master of Masters:  “We have come to the garth and the
      gate: 
    There is youth and rest behind thee and many a thing to do,
    There is many a fond desire, and each day born anew;
    And the land of the Volsungs to conquer, and many a people’s praise: 
    And for me there is rest it maybe, and the peaceful end of days. 
    We have come to the garth and the gate; to the hall-door now shall
      we win,
    Shall we go to look on the high-seat and see what sitteth therein?”

    “Yea, and what else?” said Sigurd, “was thy tale but mockeries,
    And have I been drifted hither on a wind of empty lies?”

    “It was sooth, it was sooth,” said Regin, “and more might I have told
    Had I heart and space to remember the deeds of the days of old.”

    And he hung down his head as he spake it, and was silent a little
      space;
    And when it was lifted again there was fear in the Dwarf-king’s face. 
    And he said:  “Thou knowest my thought, and wise-hearted art thou grown: 
    It were well if thine eyes were blinder, and we each were faring alone,
    And I with my eld and my wisdom, and thou with thy youth and thy might;
    Yet whiles I dream I have