He said: "Thou wert heavy-hearted last night for the parting-tide;
And alone in the dreamy country thy soul would needs abide,
And see not the King that loves thee, nor remember the might of his hand;
So thou falledst a prey unholpen to the lies of the dreamy land."
"Ah, would they were lies," said Glaumvor, "for not the worst was this:
There thou wert in the holy high-seat mid the heart of the Niblung bliss,
And a sword was borne into our midmost, and its point and its edge were red,
And at either end the wood-wolves howled out in the day of dread;
With that sword wert thou smitten, O Gunnar, and the sharp point pierced thee through.
And the kin were all departed, and no face of man I knew:
Then I strove to flee and might not; for day grew dark and strange,
And no moonrise and no morning the eyeless mirk would change."
"Such are dreams of the night," said Gunnar, "that lovers oft perplex,
When the sundering hour is coming with the cares that entangle and vex.
Yet if there be more, fair woman, when a king speaks loving words,
May I cast back words of anger, and the threat of grinded swords?"
"O yet wouldst thou tarry," said Glaumvor, "in the fair sun-lighted day!
Nor give thy wife to another, nor cast thy kingdom away."
"Of what king of the people," said Gunnar, "hast thou known it written or told,
That the word was born in the even which the morrow should withhold?"
"Alas, alas!" said Glaumvor, "then all is over and done!
For I dreamed of the hall of the Niblungs at the setting of the sun,
How dead women came in thither no worse than queens arrayed,
Who passed by the earls of the Niblungs, and their hands on thy gown-skirt laid,
And hailed thee fair for their fellow, and bade thee come to their hall.
O bethink thee, King of the Niblungs, what tidings shall befall!"
"Yea, shall they befall?" said Gunnar, "then who am I to strive
Against the change of my life-days, while the Gods on high are alive?
I shall ride as my heart would have me; let the Gods bestir them then,
And raise up another people in the stead of the Niblung men:
But at home shalt thou sit, King's Daughter, in the keeping of the Fates,
And be blithe with the men of thy people and the guest within thy gates,
Till thou know of our glad returning to the holy house and dear
Or the fall of Giuki's children, and a tale that all shall hear.
Arise and do on gladness, lest the clouds roll on and lower
O'er the heavy hearts of the people in the Niblungs' parting hour."
So he spake, and his love rejoiced her, and they rose in the face of the day,
And no seeming shadow of evil on those bright-eyed King-folk lay.
Thus stirreth the house of the Niblungs, and awakeneth unto life;
And were there any envy, or doubt that breedeth strife,
'Twixt friends or kin or brethren, 'twas healed that self-same morn,
And peace and loving-kindness o'er all the house was borne,
Now arrayed are the earls and the warriors, and into the hall they come
When the morning sun is shining through the heart of their ancient home;
And lo, how the allwise Grimhild is set in the golden seat,
The first of the way-fain warriors, and the first of the wives to greet;
In the raiment of old she sitteth, aloft in the kingly place,
And all men marvel to see her and the glory of her face.