Uncertain it is to know, When we all come together, Sons of victorious gods, Who was born most fearless; Many a man is brave Who still does not thrust the blade Into another man’s breast. REGIN: Glad art thou now, Sigurd, Glad of thy victory. As thou wipest Gram on the grass. Thou hast my Brother wounded, Let myself have some share therein. SIGURD: It was thou who caused That I should ride Hither over frosty mountains; His wealth and life Would the spotted snake still possess, Hadst thou not excited me to fight. Then went Regin to Fafner and cut the heart out of him with the sword called Ridel, and afterwards drank the blood from the wound. He said: Sit down now, Sigurd! I will go to sleep: Hold Fafner’s heart by the fire. Such a repast Will I partake of After this drink of blood. SIGURD: Thou didst absent thyself When I in Fafner’s blood My sharp blade stained. I set my strength Against the power of the dragon While thou didst lie in the heath REGIN: Long wouldst thou Have let the old Troll lie in the heath, Hadst thou not used The sword which I made, Thy sharpened blade. SIGURD: Courage is better Than sword-strength Where angry men must fight; For the brave man I always see win Victory with a dull blade. It it better for the brave man Than for the coward To join in the battle, It is better for the glad Than for the sorrowing In all circumstances.