He thought: "To pierce the maiden / were but small glory earned,"
And so the spear's sharp edges / backward pointing turned;
Against her mail-clad body / he made the shaft to bound,
And with such might he sent it / full loud her armor did resound.
The sparks as if in stormwind / from mail-rings flew around.
So mightily did hurl it / the son of Siegmund
That she with all her power / could not the shaft withstand.
In sooth it ne'er was speeded / so swiftly by King Gunther's hand.
But to her feet full sudden / had sprung Brunhild fair.
"A shot, O noble Gunther, / befitting hero rare."
She weened himself had done it, / and all unaided he,
Nor wot she one far mightier / was thither come so secretly.
Then did she go full sudden, / wrathful was her mood,
A stone full high she heaved / the noble maiden good,
And the same far from her / with might and main she swung:
Her armor's mail-rings jingled / as she herself thereafter sprung.
The stone, when it had fallen, / lay fathoms twelve from there,
And yet did spring beyond it / herself the maiden fair.
Then where the stone was lying / thither Siegfried went:
Gunther feigned to move it, / but by another arm 'twas sent.