And then he cries aloud, so that Sigrun hears him, and looks up,
listening--

"Ha, come thou forth, Sigrun of Sevafell!
Here is thy lord
If thou wouldst see him;
The cairn is open,
Helgi is here
With the sword-wounds bleeding--staunch thou the blood!

For I must ride soon
The reddening roads,
My good horse climb
The ways of the air;
West of the sky-bridge
Needs I must be
Before the grey cock cry to the sun."

Sigrun is up now, and at the door. She pants as she pulls at the
bobbin of the latch. Her eyes are on fire with eagerness. But the
maid cries to her--

"Go not, go not,
Sigrun of Sevafell,
Sister of kings,
Seek not the house of the dead!
For the night is abroad
When the dead are mighty;
Await bright dawn, thou shalt be stronger."

But Sigrun is out in the moonlight, and Helgi is upon his feet. Now
she has him in her arms; now she holds his pale face between her hands
and speaks to him close--

"The hawks of Odin
Greet not the Storm-lord,
Scenting the slain, their smoking quarry,
Not more eagerly
Cry they the dawn dew
Than I cry thee, dead King Helgi.

Now I kiss thee, dead King Helgi,
Ere thou castest
Thy blood-clutter'd mail-shirt.
Bloody the dew
On thy dauntless body,
Heavy the rime
On thy raven love-locks;
Cold are thy hands, Helgi, my king's son,
How shall I loose thee, lover and lord?"

But Helgi puts her hands away from his face and holds her apart--

"The death-dew is dank on me,
Sigrun of Sevafell,
This is thy doing, O sun-fraught lady,
Golden woman, the tears thou sheddest
Upon thy bed stay not beside thee;
Like blood they fall, cold and deathly,
Like sobs they stab me
Through the breast!"

Then, seeing her despair, he throws up his white face towards the moon
and laughs without joy--

"Ho, let us drink
Deep draughts of joy,
We that have lost
Land and life!
Let no man keen us,
Let no man pity
The wounds shining upon my body."

He clasps her close in his arms, and speaks as it were between his
teeth.

"Now is a queen,
Sigrun of Sevafell,
Now is a queen
Shut in the cairn,
Living and warm with the cold dead."

But she strains him to her and cries aloud--
"Helgi, Helgi, here is thy bed made,
Thou son of Wolfings, a warm bed, a gentle--
Fast in arms, Helgi, enfold me;
As when thou livedst
Clip me in death sleep."

And th