m, what nightless shadowless heaven?
--So they feast in the hall of Atli, and that eve is the first of the
seven.

So they feast, and weary, and know not how weary they are grown,
As they stretch out hands to gather where their hands have never sown;
They are drunken with wine and with folly, and the hope they would
bring to pass
Of the mirth no man may compass, and the joy that never was,
Till their heads hang heavy with slumber, and their hands from the
wine-cup fail,
And blind stray their hands in the harp-strings and their mouths may
tell no tale.

Now the throne of Atli is empty, low lieth the world-king's head
Mid the woven gold and the purple, and the dreams of Atli's bed,
And Gudrun lieth beside him as the true by the faithful and kind,
And every foe is departed, and no fear is left behind:
Lo, lo, the rest of the night-tide for which all kings would long,
And all warriors of the people that have fought with fear and wrong.

Yet a while;--it was but an hour and the moon was hung so high,
As it seemed that the silent night-tide would never change and die;
But lo, how the dawn comes stealing o'er the mountains of the east,
And dim grows Atli's roof-sun o'er yestereven's feast;
Dim yet in the treasure-houses lie the ancient heaps of gold,
But slowly come the colours to the Dwarf-wrought rings of old:
Yet a while; and the day-light lingers: yea, yea, is it darker than
erst?
Hath the day into night-tide drifted, the day by the twilight nursed?
Are the clouds in the house of King Atli? Or what shines brighter that
morn,
In helms and shields of the ancient, and swords by dead kings borne?
Have the heavens come down to Atli? Hath his house been lifted on high,
Lest the pride of the triumphing World-King should fade in the world
and die?

Lo, lo, in the hall of the Murder where the white-armed Gudrun stands,
Aloft by the kingly high-seat, and nought empty are her hands;
For the litten brand she beareth, and the grinded war-sword bare:
Still she stands for a little season till day groweth white and fair
Without the garth of King Atli; but within, a wavering cloud
Rolls, hiding the roof and the roof-sun; then she stirreth and crieth
aloud:

"Alone was I yestereven: and alone in the night I lay,
And I thought on the ancient fathers, and l