For the woe and the anguish endure not, but the tale and the fame
endure,
And as wavering wind is the joyance, but the Gods' renown shall
be sure:
It is well, O ye troth-breakers! there was found a man to ride
Through the waves of my Flickering Fire to lie by Brynhild's side."

Then no word answered Gudrun till she waded up the stream
And stretched forth her hand to Brynhild, and thereon was a golden
gleam,
And she spake, and her voice was but little:
"Thou mayst know by this token and sign
If the best of the kings of man-folk and the master of masters is
thine."

White waxed the face of Brynhild as she looked on the glittering thing:
And she spake: "By all thou lovest, whence haddest thou the ring?"

Then Gudrun laughed in her glory the face of the Queen to see:
"Thinkst thou that my brother Gunnar gave the Dwarf-wrought ring to
me?"

Nought spake the glorious woman, but as one who clutcheth a knife
She turned on the mocking Gudrun, and again spake Sigurd's wife:

"I had the ring, O Brynhild, on the night that followed the morn,
When the semblance of Gunnar left thee in thy golden hall forlorn:
And he, the giver that gave it, was the Helper's war-got thrall,
And the babe King Elf uplifted to the war-dukes in the hall;
And he rode with the heart-wise Regin, and rode the Glittering Heath,
And gathered the Golden Harvest and smote the Worm to the death:
And he rode with the sons of the Niblungs till the words of men must
fail
To tell of the deeds of Sigurd and the glory of his tale:
Yet e'en as thou sayst, O Brynhild, the bidding of Gunnar he did,
For he cloaked him in Gunnar's semblance and his shape in Gunnar's
hid:--
Thou all-wise Queen of the Niblungs, was this so hard a part
For the learned in the lore of Regin, who ate of the Serpent's heart?
--Thus he wooed the bride for Gunnar, and for Gunnar rode the fire;
And he held thine hand for Gunnar, and lay by thy dead desire.
We have known thee for long, O Brynhild, and great is thy renown;
In this shalt thou joy henceforward and nought in thy wedding crown."

Now is Brynhild wan as the dead, and she openeth her mouth to speak,
But no word cometh outward: then the green bank doth she seek,
And casteth her raiment upon her, and flees o'er the meadow fair,
A