And gathered that first of the harvest and set it on his hand;
    And he did on the Helm of Aweing, and the Hauberk all of gold,
    Whose like is not in the heavens nor has earth of its fellow told: 
    Then he praised the day of the Volsungs amid the yellow light,
    And he set his hand to the labour and put forth his kingly might;
    He dragged forth gold to the moon, on the desert’s face he laid
    The innermost earth’s adornment, and rings for the nameless made;
    He toiled and loaded Greyfell, and the cloudy war-steed shone
    And the gear of Sigurd rattled in the flood of moonlight wan;
    There he toiled and loaded Greyfell, and the Volsung’s armour rang
    Mid the yellow bed of the Serpent:  but without the eagles sang: 

    “Bind the red rings, O Sigurd! let the gold shine free and clear! 
    For what hath the Son of the Volsungs the ancient Curse to fear?”

    “Bind the red rings, O Sigurd! for thy tale is well begun,
    And the world shall be good and gladdened by the Gold lit up by the
      sun.”

    “Bind the red rings, O Sigurd! and gladden all thine heart! 
    For the world shall make thee merry ere thou and she depart.”

    “Bind the red rings, O Sigurd! for the ways go green below,
    Go green to the dwelling of Kings, and the halls that the Queen-folk
      know.”

    “Bind the red rings, O Sigurd! for what is there bides by the way,
    Save the joy of folk to awaken, and the dawn of the merry day?”

    “Bind the red rings, O Sigurd! for the strife awaits thine hand,
    And a plenteous war-field’s reaping, and the praise of many a land.”

    “Bind the red rings, O Sigurd!  But how shall storehouse hold
    That glory of thy winning and the tidings to be told?”

    Now the moon was dead, and the star-worlds were great on the heavenly
      plain,
    When the steed was fully laden; then Sigurd taketh the rein
    And turns to the ruined rock-wall that the lair was built beneath,
    For there he deemed was the gate and the door of the Glittering Heath,
    But not a whit moved Greyfell for aught that the King might do;
    Then Sigurd pondered a while, till the heart of the beast he knew,
    And clad in all his war-gear he leaped to the saddle-stead,
    And with pride and mirth neighed Greyfell and tossed aloft his head,
    And sprang unspurred o’er the waste, and light and swift he went,
    And breasted the broken rampart, the stony tumbled bent;
    And over the brow he clomb, and there beyond was the world,
    A place of many mountains and great crags together hurled. 
    So down to the west he wendeth, and goeth swift and light,
    And the stars are beginning to wane, and the day is mingled with night;
    For full fain was the sun to arise and look on the Gold set free,
    And the Dwarf-wrought rings of the Treasure and the gifts from the
      floor of the sea.