| 1 | Ships they laded with shining gear, gems and jewels, joys of Gautland. Wild blew the winds, waves were foaming; they viewed afar the Völsung shore. | |
| 2 | Long ruled Sigmund, sire and uncle; Sinfjötli sat at his side proudly. There towered the tree, tall and ancient, birds in the branches were blithe again. | |
| 3 | Ever Grímnir’s gift gleamed in warfare; at Sigmund’s side Sinfjötli strode. Hard, handlinkéd, helm and corslet glasswhite glittered with grey silver. | |
| 4 | Seven kings they slew, their cities plundered; wide waxed their realm the world over. Of women fairest in war taken a wife took Sigmund; woe she brought him. | |
| 5 | Sinfjötli came sailing proudly ships goldladen to the shore steering. |
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| Sigmund | ‘Hail! Ódin’s son, eager-hearted! War no longer! Wine is pouring.’ | |
| 6 | In came the queen evil pondering – her sire was slain by Sinfjötli – : |
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| Queen | ‘Hail! Völsung fell, valiant-hearted! Weary art thou. Wine I bring thee. | |
| 7 | Steep stands the horn, Stepson thirsty!’ |
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| Sinfjötli | ‘Dark seems the drink, deadly blended!’ Sigmund seized it, swiftly drained it; no venom vanquished Völsung’s eldest. | |
| Queen | 8 | ‘Beer I bring thee brown and potent!’ |
| Sinfjötli | ‘Guile there gleameth grimly blended!’ Sigmund seized it, swiftly drank it; that prince of men poison harmed not. | |
| Queen | 9 | ‘Ale I offer thee, eager Völsung! Völsungs valiant at venom blench not; heroes ask not help in drinking – if drink thou darest, drink Sinfjötli!’ |
| 10 | Dead Sinfjötli drinking stumbled. |
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| Sigmund | ‘Woe! thou witchwife weary-hearted! Of the seed of Völsung in Signý’s child the fairest flower fades untimely!’ | |
| 11 | There sorrowladen Sigmund raised him, in arms caught him; out he wandered. Over wood and wild to the waves foaming witless strayed he to the waves roaring. | |
| Boatman | 12 | ‘Whither bringest thou thy burden heavy? My boat is ready to bear it hence.’ A man there steered, mantled darkly, hooded and hoary, huge and awful. |
| 13 | Alone was Sigmund by the land’s margin; in Valhöllu Völsung feasted: |
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| Völsung | ‘Son’s son welcome, and son of daughter! But one yet await we, the World’s chosen.’ | |
| * | ||