cil of the wise,
By the street and the wharf and the burg-gate he shines in the
people's eyes;
Stately and lovely to look on he heareth of good and of ill,
And he knitteth up and divideth, with life and death at his will.

_Of the exceeding great grief and mourning of Brynhild._

Now the sun cometh up in the morning and shines o'er holt and heath,
And the wall of the mighty mountains, and the sheep-fed slopes beneath,
And the horse-fed plain and the river, and the acres of the wheat,
And the herbs of bane and of healing, and the garden hedges sweet;
It shines on the sea and the shepherd, and the husbandman's desire;
On the Niblung Burg it shineth and smiteth the vanes afire;
And in Gudrun's bower it shineth, and seeth small joy therein,
For hushed the fair-clad maidens the work of women win;
Then Gudrun looketh about her, and she saith:
"Why sit ye so,
That I hearken but creak of the loom-stock and the battens' homeward
blow?
Why is your joy departed and your sweet speech fallen dumb?
Are the Niblungs fled from the battle, is their war-host overcome?
Have the Norns given forth their shaming? have they fallen in the
fight?
Yet the sun shines notwithstanding, and the world around is bright."

Then answered a noble woman, and the wise of maids was she:
"Thou knowest, O lovely lady, that nought of this may be;
Yet with woe that the world shall hearken the glorious house is filled,
On the hearth of all men hallowed the cup of joy is spilled.
--A dread, an untimely hour, an exceeding evil day!"

Then the wife of Sigurd answered: "Arise and go thy way
To the chamber of Queen Brynhild, and bid her wake at last,
For that long have we slept and slumbered, and the deedless night is
passed:
Bid her wake to the deeds of queen-folk, and be glad as the
world-queens are
When they look on the people that loves them, and thrust all trouble
afar.
Let her foster her greatness and glory, and the fame no ages forget,
That tomorn may as yesterday blossom, yea more abundantly yet."

Then arose the light-foot maiden: but she stayed and spake by the door:
"O Gudrun, I durst not behold her, for the days of her joyance are
o'er,
And the days of her life are numbered, and her might is waxen weak,
And she lieth as