Her maidens were seated around her knee, Working bright figures in tapestry.
And one was singing the ancient rune Of Brynhilda's love and the wrath of Gudrun.
And through it, and round it, and over it all Sounded incessant the waterfall.
The Queen in her hand held a ring of gold, From the door of Lade's Temple old.
King Olaf had sent her this wedding gift, But her thoughts as arrows were keen and swift.
She had given the ring to her goldsmiths twain, Who smiled, as they handed it back again.
And Sigrid the Queen, in her haughty way, Said, "Why do you smile, my goldsmiths, say?"
And they answered: "O Queen! if the truth must be told, The ring is of copper, and not of gold!"
The lightning flashed o'er her forehead and cheek, She only murmured, she did not speak:
"If in his gifts he can faithless be, There will be no gold in his love to me."