There now the Niblung War-king and the foster-brethren twain Lead up their golden harvest and stay it wain by wain, Till they hang o'er the rim scarce balanced: no glance they cast below To the black and awful waters well known from long ago, But they cut the yoke-beasts' traces, and drive them down the slopes, Who rush through the widening daylight, and bellow forth their hopes Of the straw-stall and the barley: but the Niblungs turn once more, Hard toil the warrior cart-carles for the garnering of their store, And shoulder on the wain-wheels o'er the edge of the grimly wall, And stand upright to behold it, how the waggons plunge and fall.
Down then and whirling outward the ruddy Gold fell forth, As a flame in the dim grey morning, flashed out a kingdom's worth, Then the waters, roared above it, the wan water and the foam Flew up o'er the face of the rock-wall as the tinkling Gold fell home, Unheard, unseen for ever, a wonder and a tale, Till the last of earthly singers from, the sons of men shall fail: Then the face of the further waters a widening ripple rent And forth from hollow places strange sounds as of talking went, And loud laughed Hogni in answer; but not so long he stayed As that half the oily ripple in long sleepy coils was laid, Or the lapping fallen silent in the water-beaten caves; Scarce streamward yet were drifting the foam-heaps o'er the waves. When betwixt the foster-brethren down the slopes King Hogni strode Toward the ancient Burg of his fathers, as a man that casteth a load: No word those fellows had spoken since he whispered low and light O'er the beds of the foster-brethren in the dead hour of the night, But his face was proud and glorious as he strode the war-gate through, And went up to his kingly chamber, and the golden bed he knew, And lay down and slept by his help-mate as a play-spent child might sleep In some franklin's wealthy homestead, in the room the nurses keep.
Nought the sun on that morn delayeth, but light o'er the world's face flies. And awake by the side of King Hogni the wedded woman lies, And her bosom is weary with sighing, and her eyes with dream-born tears. And a sound as of all confusion is ever in her ears: Then she turneth and crieth to Hogni, as she layeth a hand on his breast; "Wake, wake, thou son of Giuki! save thy speech-friend all unrest!"