As the moon and the twilight mingled, she stood with kindling eyes, And answered and said: "My brother, thou art strong, and thou shalt be wise: I am nothing so wroth as thou art with the ways of death and hell, For thereof had I a deeming when all things were seeming well. In sooth overlong it may linger; the children of murder shall thrive, While thy work is a weight for thine heart, and a toil for thy hand to drive; But I wot that the King of the Goth-folk for his deeds shall surely pay, And that I shall live to see it: but thy wrath shall pass away, And long shalt thou live on the earth an exceeding glorious king, And thy words shall be told in the market, and all men of thy deeds shall sing: Fresh shall thy memory be, and thine eyes like mine shall gaze On the day unborn in the darkness, the last of all earthly days, The last of the days of battle, when the host of the Gods is arrayed And there is an end for ever of all who were once afraid. There as thou drawest thy sword, thou shalt think of the days that were, And the foul shall still seem foul, and the fair shall still seem fair; But thy wit shall then be awakened, and thou shalt know indeed Why the brave man's spear is broken, and his war-shield fails at need; Why the loving is unbelovèd; why the just man falls from his state; Why the liar gains in a day what the soothfast strives for late. Yea, and thy deeds shalt thou know, and great shall thy gladness be; As a picture all of gold thy life-days shalt thou see, And know that thou too wert a God to abide through the hurry and haste; A God in the golden hall, a God on the rain-swept waste, A God in the battle triumphant, a God on the heap of the slain: And thine hope shall arise and blossom, and thy love shall be quickened again: And then shalt thou see before thee the face of all earthly ill; Thou shalt drink of the cup of awakening that thine hand hath holpen to fill; By the side of the sons of Odin shalt thou fashion a tale to be told In the hall of the happy Baldur: nor there shall the tale grow old Of the days before the changing, e'en those that over us pass. So harden thine heart, O brother, and set thy brow as the brass! Thou shalt do, and thy deeds shall be goodly, and the day's work shall be done Though nought but the wild deer see it. Nor yet shalt thou be alone For ever-more in thy waiting; for belike a fearful friend The long days for thee may fashion, to help thee ere the end. But now shalt thou bide in the wild-wood, and make thee a lair therein: Thou art here in the midst of thy foemen, and from them thou well mayst win Whatso thine heart desireth; yet be thou not too bold, Lest the tale of the wood-abider too oft to the king be told. Ere many days are departed again shall I see thy face, That I may wot full surely of thine abiding-place To send thee help and comfort; but when that hour is o'er It were good, O last of the Volsungs, that I see thy face no more, If so indeed it may be: but the Norns must fashion all, And what the dawn hath fated on the hour of noon shall fall."