: "Thou art sister of Gunnar, and the kin of the best of
the earth;
So shalt thou go before me to meet the water cold."

Then, smiling nowise kindly, doth Gudrun her behold,
And she saith: "Thou art wrong, Queen Brynhild, to give the place to
me,
For she that is wife of the greatest more than sister-kin shall be.
--Nay, if here were the sister of Sigurd ne'er before me should she go,
Though sister were she surely of the best that the earth-folk know:
Yet I linger not, since thou biddest, for the courteous of women thou
art;
And the love of the night and the morning is heavy at my heart;
For the best of the world was beside me, while thou layest with Gunnar
the King."

She laughs and leaps, and about her the glittering waters spring:
But Brynhild laugheth in answer, and her face is white and wan
As swift she taketh the water; and the bed-gear of the swan
Wreathes long folds round about her as she wadeth straight and swift
Where the white-scaled slender fishes make head against the drift:
Then she turned to the white-armed Gudrun, who stood far down the
stream
In the lapping of the west-wind and the rippling shallows' gleam,
And her laugh went down the waters, as the war-horn on the wind,
When the kings of war are seeking, and their foes are fain to find.

But Gudrun cried upon her, and said: "Why wadest thou so
In the deeps and the upper waters, and wilt leave me here below?"

Then e'en as one transfigured loud Brynhild cried, and said:
"So oft shall it be between us at hall and board and bed;
E'en so in Freyia's garden shall the lilies cover me,
While thou on the barren footways thy gown-hem folk shall see:
E'en so shall the gold cloths lap me, when we sit in Odin's hall,
While thou shiverest, little hidden, by thy lord, the Helper's thrall,
By the serving-man of Gunnar, who all his bidding doth,
And waits by the door of the bower while his master plighteth the
troth:
But my mate is the King of the King-folk who rode the Wavering Fire,
And mocked at the ruddy death to win his heart's desire.
Lo now, it is meet and righteous that ye of the happy days
Should bow the heads and wonder at the wedding all men praise.
O, is it not goodly and sweet with the best of the earth to dwell,
And the man that all shall worship when the tale grows old to tell!