300 MORRIS
For the spears and shields of the Eastlands that the
merchant city throng; And back to the Niblung burg-gate the way seemed
weary-long.
Yet passeth hour on hour, and the doors they watch
and ward
But a long while hear no mail-clash, nor the ring- ing of the sword; Then droop the Niblung children, and their wounds
are waxen chill, And they think of the burg by the river, and the
builded holy hill, And their eyes are set on Gudrun as of men who
would beseech; But unlearned are they in craving, and know not
dastard's speech. Then doth Giuki's first-begotten a deed most fair
to be told, For his fair harp Gunnar taketh, and the warp of
silver and gold; With the hand of a cunning harper he dealeth with
the strings, And his voice in their midst goeth upward, as of
ancient days he sings, Ot the days before the Niblungs, and the days that
shall be yet; Till the hour of toil and smiting the warrior hearts
forget, Nor hear the gathering foemen, nor the sound of
swords aloof :
�� �
