Appendix 3 - Page 2

minded the vows
Sworn to the Volsung,
And the sore wrong
To be wrought against Sigurd.
Wavered his mind
A weary while,
No wont it was
Of those days worn by,
That queens should flee
From the realms of their kings.
"Brynhild to me
Is better than all,
The child of Budli
Is the best of women.
Yea, and my life
Will I lay down,
Ere I am twinned
From that woman's treasure."
He bade call Hogni
To the place where he bided;
With all the trust that might be,
Trowed he in him.
"Wilt thou bewray Sigurd
For his wealth's sake?
Good it is to rule
O'er the Rhine's metal;
And well content
Great wealth to wield,
Biding in peace
And blissful days."
One thing alone Hogni Had for an answer:
"Such doings for us
Are naught seemly to do;
To rend with sword
Oaths once sworn,
Oaths once sworn,
And troth once plighted.
"Nor know we on mould,
Men of happier days,
The while we four
Rule over the folk;
While the bold in battle,
The Hun King, bides living.
"And no nobler kin
Shall be known afield,
If our five sons
We long may foster;
Yea, a goodly stem
Shall surely wax.
But I clearly see
In what wise it standeth,
Brynhild's sore urging
O'ermuch on thee beareth.
"Guttorm shall we
Get for the slaying,
Our younger brother
Bare of wisdom;
For he was out of
All the oaths sworn,
All the oaths sworn,
And the plighted troth."
Easy to rouse him
Who of naught recketh!
Deep stood the sword
In the heart of Sigurd.
There, in the hall,
Gat the high-hearted vengeance;
For he can his sword
At the reckless slayer:
Out at Guttorm
Flew Gram the mighty,
The gleaming steel
From Sigurd's hand.
Down fell the slayer
Smitten asunder;
The heavy head
And the hands fell one way,
But the feet and such like
Aback where they stood.
Gudrun was sleeping
Soft in the bed,
Empty of sorrow
By the side of Sigurd:
When she awoke
With all pleasure gone,
Swimming in blood
Of Frey's beloved.
So sore her hands
She smote together,
That the great-hearted
Gat raised in bed;
"O Gudrun, weep not
So woefully,
Sweet lovely bride,
For thy brethren live for thee!
"A young child have I
For heritor;
Too young to win forth
From the house of his foes.--
Black deeds and ill
Have they been a-doing,
Evil rede
Have they wrought at last.
"Late, late, rideth with them
Unto the Thing,
Such sister's son,
Though seven thou bear,--
But well I wot