“From his hand then draweth Sigurd Andvari’s ancient Gold;
There is naught but the sky above them as the ring together they hold,
The shapen-ancient token, that hath no change nor end,
No change, and no beginning, no flaw for God to mend:
Then Sigurd cries: ‘O Brynhild, now hearken while I swear
That the sun shall die in the heavens and the day no more be fair,
If I seek not love in Lymdale and the house that fostered thee,
And the land where thou awakedst ’twixt the woodland and the sea!
And she cried: ‘O Sigurd, Sigurd, now hearken while I swear
That the day shall die forever and the sun to blackness wear,