But he wildly woke when the torch’s glare
Burst on him through the gloom.
“The morning wind blows free,
And the hour of chase is near:
Come forth, come forth with me!
What dost thou, Sigurd, here?”
“I have put out the holy sepulchral fire,
I have scatter’d the dust of my warrior-sire!
It burns on my head, and it weighs down my heart;
But the winds shall not wander without their part