And great shouts of salutation to the cloudy roof were cast;
And they rang from the glassy pillars, and the Gods on the hangings stirred,
And afar the clustering eagles on the golden roof-ridge heard,
And cried out on the Sword of the Branstock as they cried in the other days:
Then the harps rang out in the hall, and men sang in Sigurd's praise

* * * * *

But now on the dais he meeteth the kin of Giuki the wise:
Lo, here is the crowned Grimhild, the queen of the glittering eyes;
Lo, here is the goodly Gunnar with the face of a king's desire;
Lo, here is Hogni that holdeth the wisdom tried in the fire;
Lo, here is Guttorm the youngest, who longs for the meeting swords;
Lo, here, as a rose in the oak-boughs, amid the Niblung lords
Is the Maid of the Niblungs standing, the white-armed Giuki's child;
And all these looked long on Sigurd and their hearts upon him smiled.

Then all gave him greeting as one who should be their fellow in mighty
deeds, and the fair-armed Gudrun, Giuki's daughter, brought him a cup
of welcome, and that night the Niblungs feasted in gladness of heart.

_Of Sigurd's warfaring in the company of the Niblungs, and of his great
fame and glory._

So Sigurd abode with the Niblungs all through summer and harvest time
till with the stark midwinter came tidings of war. Then the earls of
Giuki donned dusky hauberks and led forth their bands from the
fortress, and the fair face and golden gear of Sigurd shone among
those swart-haired warriors.

They fell on the cities of the plains, but none might resist the
valour of Sigurd, and the Niblungs turned in triumph from the war,
bringing rich spoil. So all that winter Sigurd fared to war with them
and grew greater in glory and more beloved of all men, but ever the
thoughts of his heart turned to Lymdale and to Brynhild who awaited
him there.

Now sheathed is the Wrath of Sigurd; for as wax withstands the flame,
So the Kings of the land withstood him and the glory of his fame.
And before the grass is growing, or the kine have fared from the stall,
The song of the fair-speech-masters goes up in the Niblung hall,
And they sing of the golden Sigurd and the face without a foe,
And the lowly man exalted and the mighty brought alow:
And they say, when the sun of summer shall come aback to the land,
It shall shine on the fields of the tiller that fears no heavy hand;
That the sheaf shall