THE COLLECTED POEMS OF HENRIK IBSEN Translated by John ...

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“But though my brothers perished,
My father lives, look you!” —
“No, I must tell you, Sigrun!
My good sword smote him too!”
“Let father fall and kinsmen,
Let brothers, friends be gone, —
No tears shall fall from Sigrun
While Helge still lives on!” —
Then homeward fares young Helge
And with him his fair bride,
Soon to be throned in Braalund
As queen in lofty pride.
3. HELGE’S DEATH
And it was Sigrun’s brother
Dag Høgnesøn, who flew
Unscathed the fierce encounter;
The others Helge slew.
He haunts the hall right glumly,
Sworn man of Helge’s band;
But Helge now rules over
King Høgne’s very land.
He haunts the hall right glumly,
Then Sigrun whispers low:
“Why art thou, my dear brother,
So silent, brooding so?”
“My lip needs must be silent,
My mind be pensive too,
My father and my brothers
I’ll not forget, like you!
“I sat once with the highest,
Girt with the royal sword,
Now I amongst his henchmen
Sit lowest at the board!”
Then forth the warriors trample
Across the floor to fare
Into the woods, where Helge
Would hunt the wolf and bear.