Thus she stirred up the lust of Atli, she, unmoved as a mighty queen,
While the fire that burned within her by no child of man was seen.

There oft in the bed she lieth, and beside her Atli sleeps,
And she seeth him not nor heedeth, for the horror over her creeps,
And her own cry rings through the chamber that along ago she cried,
And a man for his life-breath gasping is struggling by her side,
Yea, who but Sigurd the Volsung; and no man of men in death
Ere spake such words of pity as the words that now he saith,
As the words he speaketh ever while he riseth up on the sword,
The sword of the foster-brethren and the Kings that swore the word.
Lo, there she lieth and hearkeneth if yet he speak again,
And long she lieth hearkening and lieth by the slain.

So dreams the waking Gudrun till the morn comes on apace
And the daylight shines on Atli, and no change comes over her face,
And deep hush lies on the chamber; but loud cries out her heart:
How long, how long, O God-folk, will ye sit alone and apart,
And let the blood of Sigurd cry on you from the earth,
While crowned are the sons of murder with worship and with worth?
If ye tarry shall I tarry? From the darkness of the womb
Came I not in the days passed over for accomplishing your doom?

So she saith till the daylight brightens, and the kingly house is astir,
And she sits by the side of Atli, and a woman's voice doth hear,
One who speaks with the voice of Gudrun, a queenly voice and cold:
"How oft shall I tell thee, Atli, of the wise Andvari's Gold,
The Treasure Regin craved for, the uncounted ruddy rings?
Full surely he that holds it shall rule all earthly kings:
Stretch forth thine hand, O Atli, for the gift is marvellous great,
And I am she that giveth! how long wilt thou linger and wait
Till the traitors come against thee with the war-torch and the steel,
And here in thy land thou perish, befooled of thy kingly weal?
Have I wedded the King of the Eastlands, the master of numberless swords,
Or a serving-man of the Niblungs, a thrall of the Westland lords?"

So spake the voice of Gudrun; suchwise she cast the seed
O'er the gold-lust of King Atli for the day of the Niblungs' Need.

Who is this in the hall of King Gunnar, this golden-gleaming man?
Who is this, the bright and the silent as the frosty eve and wan,
Round whom the speech of wise-ones lies hid in bonds of fear?
Who this in the Niblung feast-hall as the moon-rise draweth anear?

Hark! his voice mid the glittering benches and the wine-cups of the Earls,
As cold as the wind that bloweth where the winter river whirls,
And the winter sun forgetteth all the promise of the spring:
"Hear ye, O men of the Westlands, hear thou, O Westland King,
I have ridden the scorching highways, I have ridden the mirk-wood blind,
I have sailed the weltering ocean your Westland house to find;
For I am the man called Knefrud with Atli's word in my mouth.
That saith: O noble Gunnar, come thou and be glad in the south,
And rejoice with Eastland warriors; for the feast for thee is dight,
And the cloths for thy coming fashioned my glorious hall make bright.
Knowst thou not how the sun of the heavens hangs there 'twixt floor and roof.
How the light of the lamp all golden holds dusky night aloof?
How the red wine runs like a river, and the white wine springs as a well,
And the harps are never ceasing of ancient deeds to tell?
Thou shalt come when thy heart desireth, when thou weariest thou shalt go,
And shalt say that no such high-tide the world shall ever know.
Come bare and bald as the desert, and leave mine house again
As rich as the summer wine-burg, and the ancient wheat-sown plain!
Come, bid thy men be building thy store-house greater yet,
And make wide thy stall and thy stable for the gifts thine hand shall get!
Yet when thou art gone from Atli he shall stand by his treasure of gold,
He shall look through stall and stable, he shall ride by field and fold,
And no ounce from the weight shall be lacking, of his beasts shall lack no head,
If no thief hath stolen from Gunnar, if no beast in his land lie dead.
Yea henceforth let our lives be as one, let our wars and our wayfarings blend,
That my name with thine may be told of when the song is sung in the end,
That the ancient war-spent Atli may sit and laugh with delight
O'er thy feet the swift in battle, o'er thine hand uplifted to smite."

So spake the guileful Knefrud mid the silence of the wise,
Nor once his cold voice faltered, nor once he sank his eyes:
Then spake the glorious Gunnar:
"We hear King Atli's voice.
And the heart is glad within us that he biddeth us rejoice:
Yet the thing shall be seen but seldom that a Niblung fares from his land
With eyes by the gold-lust blinded, with the greedy griping hand.
When thou farest aback unto Atli, thou shalt tell him how thou hast been
In the house of the Westland Gunnar, and what things thine eyes have seen:
Thou shalt tell of the seven store-houses with swords filled through and through,
Gold-hilted, deftly smithied, in the Southland wave made blue:
Thou shalt tell of the house of the treasures and the Gold that lay erewhile
On the Glittering Heath of murder 'neath the heart of the Serpent's guile:
Thou shalt note our glittering hauberk, thou shalt strive to bend our bow,
Thou shalt look on the shield of Gunnar that its white face thou mayst know:
Thou shalt back the Niblung war-steed when the west wind blows its most,
And see if it over-run thee; thou shalt gaze on the Niblung host
And be glad of the friends of Atli; thou shalt fare through stable and stall,
And tell over the tale of the beast-kind, if the night forbear to fall;
Through the horse-mead shalt thou wander, through the meadows of the sheep,
But forbear to count their thousands lest thou weary for thy sleep;
Thou shalt look if the barns be empty, though the wheat-field whiteneth now,
In the midmost of the summer in the fields men cared to plough;
Thou shalt dwell with men that lack not, and the tillers fair and fain;
Thou shalt see, and long, and wonder, and tell thy King of his gain;
For in all that here thou beholdest hath he portion even as we;
Sweet bloometh his love in our midmost, and the fair time yet may be,
When we twain shall meet and be merry; and sure when our lives are done
No more shall men sunder our glory than the Gods have rent the sun.
Sit, mighty man, and be joyous: and then shalt thou cast us a word
And say how fareth our sister mid the glory of her lord."

Then Knefrud looked upon Gunnar, and spake, nor sank his eyes:
"Each morn at the day's beginning when the sun hath hope to arise
She looketh from Atli's tower toward the west part and the grey,
To see the Niblung spear-heads gleam down the lonely way:
Each eve at the day's departing on the topmost tower she stands,
And looketh toward the mirk-wood and the sea of the western lands:
There long in the wind she standeth, and the even grown acold,
To see the Niblung war-shields come forth from out the wold."

Then Gunnar turneth to Hogni, and he saith: "O glorious lord,
What saith thine heart to the bidding, and Atli's loving word?"