“A priest!” she cried; “they send to me a priest!
Mocking me, that my hand first helped these priests
Till a priest’s hand was strong to strike me down.”
He bent before her, swayed by grief and shame;
Then spoke: “Brunhild, they sent me not to thee;
But I came willingly, nor feared their wrath.
Arnulf and Pippin feast their warriors
In the high-raftered hall, and cheer the bards,
Who sing of how they smote thee: so I crept
Forth from the tumult. At the height of noon