My joys are all lost | as the leaves of the tree
When the scather of twigs | from the warm day turns.”
[6]. Then Hamther spake forth, | the high of heart:
“Small praise didst thou, Guthrun, | to Hogni’s deed give
When they wakened thy Sigurth | from out of his sleep,
Thou didst sit on the bed | while his slayers laughed.
[7]. “Thy bed-covers white | with blood were red
From his wounds, and with gore | of thy husband were wet; [[548]]
So Sigurth was slain, | by his corpse didst thou sit,
And of gladness didst think not: | ’twas Gunnar’s doing.