midnight
Their white bony fingers have dragged you across the deep ! Did you not hear their voices , cold and hollow as the winter wind , calling , calling you , and saying , ` Come , come , proud robber , from over the far seas ; come and gather the beautiful rose of the northern forest ' ? Yes , Yes ! You have obeyed the dead -- the dead who feign sleep , but are ever wakeful ; -- you have come as a thief in the golden midnight , and the thing you seek is the life of Sigurd ! Yes -- yes ! it is true . The spirit can not lie .