Beat backward from gable to gable, and rattled o'er roof-tree and rafter,
Moody and still sat Siggeir; for he said: "They have trained me here As a mock for their woodland bondsmen; and yet shall they buy it dear."
Now the tumult sank a little, and men cried on Volsung the King And his sons, the hedge of battle, to try the fateful thing. So Volsung laughed, and answered: "I will set me to the toil, Lest these my guests of the Goth-folk should deem I fear the foil. Yet nought am I ill-sworded, and the oldest friend is best; And this, my hand's first fellow, will I bear to the grave-mound's rest,
Nor wield meanwhile another: Yea this shall I have in hand When mid the host of Odin in the Day of Doom I stand."
Therewith from his belt of battle he raised the golden sheath, And showed the peace-strings glittering about the hidden death: Then he laid his hand on the Branstock, and cried: "O tree beloved, I thank thee of thy good-heart that so little thou art moved: Abide thou thus, green
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