Long Sigurd sat and marvelled at the mouth that might not lie, And the eyes no God had blinded, and the lone heart raised on high, Then he rose from the gleaming high-seat, and the rings of battle rang And the sheathèd Wrath was hearkening and a song of war it sang, But Sigurd spake unto Gripir: "Long and lovely are thy days, And thy years fulfilled of wisdom, and thy feet on the unhid ways, And the guileless heart of the great that knoweth not anger nor pain: So once hath a man been fashioned and shall not be again. But for me hath been foaled the war-horse, the grey steed swift as the cloud, And for me were the edges smithied, and the Wrath cries out aloud; And a voice hath called from the darkness, and I ride to the Glittering Heath; To smite on the door of Destruction, and waken the warder of Death." So they kissed, the wise and the wise, and the child from the elder turned; And again in the glimmering house-ways the golden Sigurd burned; He stood outside in the sunlight, and tarried never a deal, But leapt on the cloudy Greyfell with the clank of gold and steel, And he rode through the sinking day to the walls of the kingly stead, And came to Regin's dwelling when the wind was fallen dead, And the great sun just departing: then blood-red grew the west, And the fowl flew home from the sea-mead, and all things sank to rest. _Sigurd rideth to the Glittering Heath._ Again on the morrow morning doth Sigurd the Volsung ride, And Regin, the Master of Masters, is faring by his side, And they leave the dwelling of kings and ride the summer land, Until at the eve of the day the hills are on either hand: Then they wend up higher and higher, and over the heaths they fare Till the moon shines broad on the midnight, and they sleep 'neath the heavens bare; And they waken and look behind them, and lo, the dawning of day And the little land of the Helper and its valley far away; But the mountains rise before them, a wall exceeding great. Then spake the Master of Masters: "We have come to the garth and the gate: There is youth and rest behind thee and many a thing to do, There is many a fond desire, and each day born anew; And the land of the Volsungs to conquer, and many a people's praise: And for me there is rest it maybe, and the peaceful end of days. We have come to the garth and the gate; to the hall-door now shall we win, Shall we go to look on the high-seat and see what sitteth therein?" "Yea and what else?" said Sigurd, "was thy tale but mockeries And have I been drifted hither on a wind of empty lies?" "It was sooth, it was sooth," said Regin, "and more might I have told Had I heart and space to remember the deeds of the days of old."