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The Collected Works of William Morris

With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris

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E'en so sat Sigurd the Volsung till the night waxed moonless and grey,
Till the chill dawn spread o'er the lowland, and the purple fells grew clear
In the cloudless summer dawn-dusk, and the sun was drawing anear:
Then reddened the Burg of the Niblungs, and the walls of the ancient folk,
And a wind came down from the mountains and the living things awoke
And cried out for need and rejoicing; till, lo, the rim of the sun
Showed over the eastern ridges, and the new day was begun;
And the beams rose higher and higher, and white grew the Niblung wall,
And the spears on the ramparts glistered and the windows blazed withal,
And the sunlight flooded the courts, and throughout the chambers streamed:
Then bright as the flames of the heaven the Helm of Aweing gleamed,
Then clashed the red rings of the Treasure, as Sigurd stood on his feet,
And went through the echoing chambers, as the winds in the wall-nook beat;

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And there in the earliest morning while the lords of the Niblungs lie
'Twixt light sleep and awakening they hear the clash go by,
And their dreams are of happy battle, and the songs that follow fame,
And the hope of the Gods accomplished, and the tales of the ancient name,
Ere Sigurd came to the Niblungs and faced their gathered foes.