(C) Long, long between those wrestlers endured that desperate strife: But he slowly at last bare backward to the couch that maiden-wife. How grimly she fought soever, her strength waxed faint at the last: But aye through the heart of Gunther a tumult of wild thoughts passed. {P. 92} Long, long it seemed unto Gunther ere Siegfried tamed her mood. Her grip on his hands was so mighty that from 'neath his nails the blood At her terrible crushing spirted, that his soul was wrung with pain: Yet he wore her down by his stubborn endurance, and forced to refrain From the fury of eager onset, from the erstwhile tiger-leap. --Ware of all this was Gunther, though he hearkened in silence deep. He crushed her against the bed-beam, that for pain aloud she cried; For the strength of Siegfried the mighty tortured at last the bride. In a desperate hope, at the girdle that around her sides she wore She snatched, if she haply might bind him; but this from her grasp he tore. Her joints are strained unto breaking, on the rack is her fainting frame-- Lo, now is the strife's decision: wife to the King is the dame. She moaned, "O king and hero, take not my life from me! Atoned for in wifely duty shall be all scathe done unto thee! Against thy noble embraces myself no more do I ward. At last have I throughly proved it, that thou art master and lord." Uprose from the grapple Siegfried--while faint lay the panting bride-- Back drew he as though he were minded to put but his raiment aside: Yet first did he draw from her finger a little golden ring; But thereof the Queen outwearied knew not anything. That silken marvel, her girdle, for a trophy withal took he: I know not if haply he did it in pride of victory. To his wife he gave them thereafter--his own bane came thereof! He is gone; and the King and Brunhild are alone in the bed of love. All in the old sweet fashion he gathered her unto his breast: The erstwhile shame and the anger are for ever laid to rest. As Love the Overcomer prevailed, her cheek waxed wan-- There is no more Brunhild the Maiden, and her might as a dream is gone! O yea, she is now no stronger than any woman beside! He poured out his love upon her, he cherished his winsome bride. Ay, though she now should withstand him, what were her strength made frail? Unto Gunther is victory given by Love who is strong to prevail. {P. 93} Ah, in what lovingkindness the knight and the lady lay Through the glory-litten darkness till the shadows fled away! But long since had the hero Siegfried from the Bower of Slain Hate hied To the welcoming arms of the lovely, to the lips of a waiting bride. Lightly he put by questions that trembled on her tongue; And he kept those victory-trophies hidden from sight full long, Until to his Queen in his kingdom he gave, afar and late, The Gifts of Doom--how little availeth to strive with fate!