Against thy noble embraces myself no more do I ward.
At last have I throughly proved it, that thou art master and lord.”
Uprose from the grapple Siegfried—while faint lay the panting bride—
Back drew he as though he were minded to put but his raiment aside:
Yet first did he draw from her finger a little golden ring;
But thereof the Queen outwearied knew not anything.
That silken marvel, her girdle, for a trophy withal took he:
I know not if haply he did it in pride of victory.
To his wife he gave them thereafter—his own bane came thereof!
He is gone; and the King and Brunhild are alone in the bed of love.