‘For Gautland’s master
glory endeth;
grief is fated
for Gautland’s queen.’
7
Birds sang blithely
o’er board and hearth,
bold men and brave
on benches sitting.
Mailclad, mighty,
his message spake there
a Gautish lord
gleaming-harnessed.
8
‘Siggeir sent me
swiftly steering:
fame of Volsung
far is rumoured.
Signy’s beauty,
Signy’s wisdom,
to his bed he wooeth,
bride most lovely.’
9
‘What saith Sigmund?
Shall his sister go
with lord so mighty
league to bind us?’
‘With lord so mighty
league and kinship
let us bind, and grant him
bride most lovely!’
10
Ere summer faded
sails came shining,
ships came shoreward
with shields gleaming.
Many and mighty
mailclad warriors
to the seats of Volsung
with Siggeir strode.
11
Birds sang blissful
over boards laden,
over Signy pale,
Siggeir eager.
Dark wine they drank,
doughty princes,
Gautland’s chieftains;
glad their voices.
12
Wan
night cometh;
wind ariseth;
doors are opened,
the din is silenced.
A man there enters,
mantled darkly,
hoary-bearded,
huge and ancient.
13
A sword he sweeps
from swathing cloak,
into standing stem
stabs it swiftly:
‘Who dares to draw,
doom unfearing,
the gift of Grimnir
gleaming deadly?’
14
Doors clanged backward;
din was wakened;
men leapt forward
mighty-handed.
Gaut and Volsung
glory seeking
strove they starkly,
straining vainly.
15
Sigmund latest
seized it lightly,
the blade from bole
brandished flaming.
Siggeir yearning
on that sword gazing
red gold offered,
ransom kingly.
