Mirrored the angry torches. ‘Take the boy,’
I said to him: ‘I should but hinder you;
But leave me in the refuge of the church.’
There by the sleeping saints I sat and watched,
Fearing the dawn. So all my work was hurled
By ruinous chance to nothing in an hour.”
“Brunhild, not chance it was, but punishment:
The retribution followed on thy pride;
And on thy lust, and hunger for revenge.”
But Brunhild turned on him: “Would God destroy