For now as he thought thereover, o'ermuch he deemed it dared
That he saw not the last of the Volsungs laid dead before his feet,
Back came his men ere the noontide, and he deemed their tidings sweet;
For they said: "We tell thee, King Siggeir, that Geirmund and Gylfi
are gone.
And we deem that a beast of the wild-wood this murder grim hath done,
For the bones yet lie in the fetters gnawed fleshless now and white;
But we deemed the eight abiding sore minished of their might."

So wore the morn and the noontide, and the even 'gan to fall,
And watchful eyes held Signy at home in bower and hall.

And again came the men in the morning, and spake: "The hopples hold
The bare white bones of Helgi, and the bones of Solar the bold:
And the six that abide seem feebler than they were awhile ago."

Still all the day and the night-tide must Signy nurse her woe
About the house of King Siggeir, nor any might she send:
And again came the tale on the morrow: "Now are two more come to
an end.
For Hunthiof dead and Gunthiof, their bones lie side by side,
And the four that are left, us seemeth, no long while will abide."

O woe for the well-watched Signy, how often on that day
Must she send her helpless eyen adown the woodland way!
Yet silent in her bosom she held her heart of flame.
And again on the morrow morning the tale was still the same:

"We tell thee now, King Siggeir, that all will soon be done;
For the two last men of the Volsungs, they sit there one by one,