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But again when the bolt of battle on the sleeping kings had been hurled,
And the gold-tipped cloud of the Niblungs had been sped on the winter world,
And once more in that hall of the stories was dight triumphant feast,
And in joy of soul past telling sat all men most and least,
There stood the daughter of Giuki by the king-folk's happy board,
And grave and stern was Gudrun as the wine of kings she poured:
But Sigurd smiled upon her, and he said:
“O maid, rejoice
For thy pledge's fair redeeming, and the hope of thy kindly voice!

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Thou hast prayed for the guest and the stranger, and, lo, from the battle and wrack
Is the hope of the Niblungs blossomed, and thy brethren's lives come back.”