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 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 :

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