So they spake, and their hearts were heavy, and they longed for the morrow morn, And the morrow of tomorrow, and the new day yet to be born.
But Brynhild cried to her maidens: "Now open ark and chest, And draw forth queenly raiment of the loveliest and the best, Red rings that the Dwarf-lords fashioned, fair cloths that queens have sewed, To array the bride for the mighty, and the traveller for the road."
They wept as they wrought her bidding and did on her goodliest gear; But she laughed mid the dainty linen, and the gold-rings fashioned fair: She arose from the bed of the Niblungs, and her face no more was wan; As a star in the dawn-tide heavens, mid the dusky house she shone: And they that stood about her, their hearts were raised aloft Amid their fear and wonder: then she spake them kind and soft:
"Now give me the sword, O maidens, wherewith I sheared the wind When the Kings of Earth were gathered to know the Chooser's mind."
All sheathed the maidens brought it, and feared the hidden blade, But the naked blue-white edges across her knees she laid, And spake: "The heaped-up riches, the gear my fathers left, All dear-bought woven wonders, all rings from battle reft, All goods of men desired, now strew them on the floor, And so share among you, maidens, the gifts of Brynhild's store."
They brought them mid their weeping, but none put forth a hand To take that wealth desired, the spoils of many a land: There they stand and weep before her, and some are moved to speech, And they cast their arms about her and strive with her, and beseech That she look on her loved-ones' sorrow and the glory of the day. It was nought; she scarce might see them, and she put their hands away And she said: "Peace, ye that love me! and take the gifts and the gold In remembrance of my fathers and the faithful deeds of old."
Then she spake: "Where now is Gunnar, that I may speak with him? For new things are mine eyes beholding and the Niblung house grows dim, And new sounds gather about me, that may hinder me to speak When the breath is near to flitting, and the voice is waxen weak."
Then upright by the bed of the Niblungs for a moment doth she stand, And the blade flasheth bright in the chamber, but no more they hinder her hand Than if a God were smiting to rend the world in two: Then dulled are the glittering edges, and the bitter point cleaves through The breast of the all-wise Brynhild, and her feet from the pavement fail, And the sigh of her heart is hearkened mid the hush of the maidens' wail. Chill, deep is the fear upon them, but they bring her aback to the bed, And her hand is yet on the hilts, and sidelong droopeth her head.