GUNNAR
They have not come, they have gone.
RANNVEIG
I crossed the yard,
Hearing a noise, but a big bird dropped past,
Beating my eyes; and then the yard was clear.
(The deep baying of the hound is heard again.)
GUNNAR
They must be spies: yonder is news of them.
The wise hound knew them, and knew them again.
(The baying is succeeded by one mid howl.)
Nay, nay!
Men treat thee sorely, Samm my fosterling:
Even by death thou warnest—but it is meant
That our two deaths will not be far apart.
RANNVEIG
Think you that men are yonder?
GUNNAR
Men are yonder.
RANNVEIG
My son, my son, get on the rattling war-woof,
The old grey shift of Odin, the hide of steel.
Handle the snake with edges, the fang of the rings.
GUNNAR (going to the weapons by the high-seat)
There are not enough moments to get under
That heavy fleece: an iron hat must serve.