"Thou sayest sooth," said Sigurd, "thy deed and mine is done: But now our ways shall sunder, for here, meseemeth, the sun Hath but little of deeds to do, and no love to win aback." Then Regin crouched before him, and he spake: "Fare on to the wrack! Fare on to the murder of men, and the deeds of thy kindred of old! And surely of thee as of them shall the tale be speedily told. Thou hast slain thy Master's brother, and what wouldst thou say thereto, Were the judges met for the judging and the doom-ring hallowed due?" Then Sigurd spake as aforetime: "Thy deed and mine it was, And now our ways shall sunder, and into the world will I pass." But Regin darkened before him, and exceeding grim was he grown, And he spake: "Thou hast slain my brother, and wherewith wilt thou atone?" "Stand up, O Master," said Sigurd, "O Singer of ancient days, And take the wealth I have won thee, ere we wend on the sundering ways. I have toiled and thou hast desired, and the Treasure is surely anear, And thou hast wisdom to find it, and I have slain thy fear." But Regin crouched and darkened: "Thou hast slain my brother," he said. "Take thou the Gold," quoth Sigurd, "for the ransom of my head!" Then Regin crouched and darkened, and over the earth he hung; And he said: "Thou hast slain my brother, and the Gods are yet but young." Bright Sigurd towered above him, and the Wrath cried out in the sheath, And Regin writhed against it as the adder turns on death; And he spake: "Thou hast slain my brother, and to-day shalt thou be my thrall: Yea a King shall be my cook-boy and this heath my cooking-hall." Then he crept to the ash-grey coils where the life of his brother had lain, And he drew a glaive from his side and smote the smitten and slain, And tore the heart from Fafnir, while the eagles cried o'erhead, And sharp and shrill was their voice o'er the entrails of the dead. Then Regin spake to Sigurd: "Of this slaying wilt thou be free? Then gather thou fire together and roast the heart for me, That I may eat it and live, and be thy master and more; For therein was might and wisdom, and the grudged and hoarded lore:-- --Or else, depart on thy ways afraid from the Glittering Heath." Then he fell abackward and slept, nor set his sword in the sheath, But his hand was red on the hilts and blue were the edges bared, Ash-grey was his visage waxen, and with open eyes he stared On the height of heaven above him, and a fearful thing he seemed, As his soul went wide in the world, and of rule and kingship he dreamed.