"Bind the red rings, O Sigurd! for thy tale is well begun, And the world shall be good and gladdened by the Gold lit up by the sun." "Bind the red rings, O Sigurd, and gladden all thine heart! For the world shall make thee merry ere thou and she depart." "Bind the red rings, O Sigurd! for the ways go green below, Go green to the dwelling of Kings, and the halls that the Queen-folk know." "Bind the red rings, O Sigurd! for what is there bides by the way, Save the joy of folk to awaken, and the dawn of the merry day?" "Bind the red rings, O Sigurd! for the strife awaits thine hand, And a plenteous war-field's reaping, and the praise of many a land." "Bind the red rings, O Sigurd! But how shall store-house hold That glory of thy winning and the tidings to be told?" Now the moon was dead, and the star-worlds were great on the heavenly plain, When the steed was fully laden; then Sigurd taketh the rein And turns to the ruined rock-wall that the lair was built beneath, For there he deemed was the gate and the door of the Glittering Heath, But not a whit moved Greyfell for aught that the King might do; Then Sigurd pondered a while, till the heart of the beast he knew, And clad in all his war-gear he leaped to the saddle-stead, And with pride and mirth neighed Greyfell and tossed aloft his head, And sprang unspurred o'er the waste, and light and swift he went, And breasted the broken rampart, the stony tumbled bent; And over the brow he clomb, and there beyond was the world, A place of many mountains and great crags together hurled. So down to the west he wendeth, and goeth swift and light, And the stars are beginning to wane, and the day is mingled with night; For full fain was the sun to arise and look on the Gold set free, And the Dwarf-wrought rings of the Treasure and the gifts from the floor of the sea. _How Sigurd awoke Brynhild upon Hindfell._ By long roads rideth Sigurd amidst that world of stone, And somewhat south he turneth; for he would not be alone, But longs for the dwellings of man-folk, and the kingly people's speech, And the days of the glee and the joyance, where men laugh each to each. But still the desert endureth, and afar must Greyfell fare From the wrack of the Glittering Heath, and Fafnir's golden lair. Long Sigurd rideth the waste, when, lo, on a morning of day From out of the tangled crag-walls, amidst the cloud-land grey Comes up a mighty mountain, and it is as though there burns A torch amidst of its cloud-wreath; so thither Sigurd turns, For he deems indeed from its topmost to look on the best of the earth; And Greyfell neigheth beneath him, and his heart is full of mirth.