POETRY. | 629 
On the wonders of nature the stories of eld, 
On the secrets of magic high converse ye held: 
He sat by thy side, and he gazed on thy face, 
He hail'd thee most worthy of Sigurd’s embrace ; 
The wisest of women, the loveliest maid, 
The bravest that ever in battle outrade: 
And there, in the gloom of that mystic alcove, 
Ye pledg’d to each other the firm oath of love. 
Now spell-bound thou canst not his features descry, 
Thy charms in the gloom do not meet his keen eye. 
For Sigurd had hied to defend Giuka’s crown, 
He dwelt there with glory, he fought with renown ; 
_ At the court of good Giuka his warriors among 
None bore him so gallant, so brave, and so strong. 
Gudruna beheld him with eyes of desire, 
The noblest of knights at the court of her sire. 
She mix’d the leve-potion with charm and with spell, 
And all his frail oaths from his memory fell. 
She conquer’d his faith by the treacherous snare ; 
He led to the altar Gudruna the fair : 
And now with her brother unconscious he came, 
Who dar’d the chaste hand of Brynhilda to claim. 
But Gunnar the bold could not break through the spell ; 
. The flame bicker’d high, on the ground as he fell : 
And Sigurd the glorious, the mighty, must lend 
His valour to gain the fair prize for his friend. 
All night there he tarried, but ever between 
The maid and the knight lay his sword bright and sheen. 
The morrow he rode to the battle afar, 
And changed the maid’s couch for the turmoil of war. 
His friend reaps the harvest his valour has won, 
And claims the fair guerdon ere fall of the sun. 
With pomp to the altar he leads the young bride, 
She deems him the knight who had lain by her side ; 
Forgotten the vows she had made in gay France, 
Ere Odiv cast o’er her the magical trance. 
With gorgeous carousal, with dance and with song, 
With wassail his liegemen the nuptials prolong ; 
He revels in rapture and bliss through the night, 
And the swift hours are pass’d in the arms of delight : 
But when the bright morning first dawn’d on their bed, 
The bride rais’d with anguish her grief«stricken head ; 
For the thoughts of the past rose with force, and too late 
She remember’d young Sigurd, and curs’d her sad fate. 
Three days and three nights there in silence she lay, 
To sullen despair and dark horror a prey. ; 
