Through the streets as the valiant warriors behind the proud Queens rode.
They lighted down on the greensward before the minster-gate.
Still to her guests did Brunhild harbour nought of hate.
Hosts, guests, passed crowned together beneath the wide-hung dome.
—Soon all that love was sundered; sprang bitter affliction therefrom.
When the chanting of mass was ended, forth of the doors again
Came they in splendour and honour. Passed that gladsome train
On to the banquet-royal: joy knew nor stint nor stay
In the flowing tide of pleasure—till dawned the eleventh day.
(C) Yet ever the Queen was musing: “Delay no longer will I!