Then horsed are the sons of the earl-folk, and their robes are glittering-gay, And they ride o'er the bridge of the river adown the dusty way, Till they come on a lovely people, and the maids of war they meet, Whose cloaks are blue and broidered, and their girded linen sweet; And they ride on the roan and the grey, and the dapple-grey and the red, And many a bloom of the may-tide on their crispy locks is shed: Fair, young are the sons of the earl-folk, and they laugh for love and glee, As the lovely-wristed maidens on the summer ways they see.
But lo, mid the sweet-faced fellows there cometh a golden wain, Like the wain of the sea be-shielded with the signs of the war-god's gain: Snow-white are its harnessed yoke-beasts, and its bench-cloths are of blue, Inwrought with the written wonders that ancient women knew; But nought therein there sitteth save a crownèd queen alone, Swan-white on the dark-blue bench-cloths and the carven ivory throne; Abashed are sons of the earl-folk of their laughter and their glee, When the glory of Queen Brynhild on the summer ways they see.
But they hear the voice of the woman, and her speech is soft and kind: "Are ye the sons of the Niblungs, and the folk I came to find, O young men fair and lovely? So may your days be long, And grow in gain and glory, and fail of grief and wrong!" Then they hailed her sweet and goodly, and back again they rode By the bridge o'er the rushing river to the gate of their abode; And high aloft, half-hearkened, rang the joyance of the horn, And the cry of the Ancient People from their walls of war was borne O'er the tilth of the plain, and the meadows, and the sheep-fed slopes that lead From the God-built wall of the mountains to the blossoms of the mead.
Then up in the wain stood Brynhild, and her voice was sweet as she said: "Is this the house of Gunnar, and the man I swore to wed?"
But she hearkened the cry from the gateway and the hollow of the door: "Yea this is the dwelling of Gunnar, and the house of the God of War: There is none of the world so mighty, be he outland King or Goth, Save Sigurd the mighty Volsung and the brother of his troth."
Then spake Brynhild and said: "Lo, a house of ancient Kings, Wrought for great deeds' fulfilment, and the birth of noble things! Be the bloom of the earth upon it, and the hope of the heavens above! May peace and joy abide there, and the full content of love! And when our days are done with, and we lie alow in rest, May its lords returning homeward still deem they see the best!"