and surely will I come
    To look upon thy glory and the Goths’ abundant home. 
    But let two months wear over, for I have many a thing
    To shape and shear in the Woodland, as befits a people’s king: 
    And thou meanwhile here abiding of all my goods shalt be free,
    And then shall we twain together roof over the glass-green sea
    With the sides of our golden dragons; and our war-hosts’ blended
      shields
    Shall fright the sea-abiders and the folk of the fishy fields.”

    Answered the smooth-speeched Siggeir:  “I thank thee well for this,
    And thy bidding is most kingly; yet take it not amiss
    That I wend my ways in the morning; for we Goth-folk know indeed
    That the sea is a foe full deadly, and a friend that fails at need,
    And that Ran who dwells thereunder will many a man beguile: 
    And I bear a woman with me; nor would I for a while
    Behold that sea-queen’s dwelling; for glad at heart am I
    Of the realm of the Goths and the Volsungs, and I look for long to lie
    In the arms of the fairest woman that ever a king may kiss. 
    So I go mine house to order for the increase of thy bliss,
    That there in nought but joyance all we may wear the days
    And that men of the time hereafter the more our lives may praise.”

    And for all the words of Volsung e’en so must the matter be,
    And Siggeir the Goth and Signy on the morn shall sail the sea. 
    But the feast sped on the fairer, and the more they waxed in disport
    And the glee that all men love, as they knew that the hours were short. 
    Yet a boding heart bare Sigmund amid his singing and laughter;
    And somewhat Signy wotted of the deeds that were coming after;
    For the wisest of women she was, and many a thing she knew;
    She would hearken the voice of the midnight till she heard what the
      Gods would do,
    And her feet fared oft on the wild, and deep was her communing
    With the heart of the glimmering woodland, where never a fowl may sing.

    So fair sped on the feasting amid the gleam of the gold,
    Amid the wine and the joyance; and many a tale was told
    To the harp-strings of that wedding, whereof the latter days
    Yet hold a little glimmer to wonder at and praise. 
    Then the undark night drew over, and faint the high stars shone,
    And there on the beds blue-woven the slumber-tide they won;
    Yea while on the brightening mountain the herd-boy watched his sheep. 
    Yet soft on the breast of Signy King Siggeir lay asleep.

    How the Volsungs fared to the Land of the Goths, and of the fall of
    King Volsung.