"
All grief, sharp scorn, sore longing, stark death in her voice he knew,
But gone forth is the doom of the Norns, and what shall he answer thereto,
While the death that amendeth lingers? and they twain shall dwell for awhile
In the Niblung house together by the hearth that forged the guile.
* * * * *
So he spake as a King of the people in whom all fear is dead,
And his anguish no man noted, as the greeting-words he said:
"Hail, fairest of all things fashioned! hail, thou desire of eyes!
Hail, chooser of the mightiest, and teacher of the wise!
Hail, wife of my brother Gunnar! in might may thy days endure,
And in peace without a trouble that the world's weal may be sure!"
* * * * *
But the song sprang up in the hall, and the eagles cried from above
And forth to the freshness of May went the joyance of the feast:
And Sigurd sat with the Niblungs, and gave ear to most and to least.
And showed no sign to the people of the grief that on him lay;
Nor seemeth he worser to any than he was on the yesterday.
_Of the Contention betwixt the Queens._
So now must Sigurd and Brynhild abide together in the Burg of the
Niblungs, yet each must bear the burden of sorrow alone. Brynhild held
close converse with Gudrun, and behaved humbly towards her lest strife
should arise between them.
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