INTRODUCTION (continued 4)

Which should say, “Let the great King’s country in peace unmarred abide,

For to make submission to Gunther hath Lüdeger bidden us ride.”

How passing loth was Siegfried to turn him back from the fight,

From avenging friends and kinsmen on these that had done them despite!

Scarce could the liegemen of Gunther persuade him to sheathe the sword.

Back rode he at last to the traitor, and the King his thanks outpoured:

“God guerdon thee, friend Siegfried, for thy good heart unto mine aid,

That thou offeredst thee so freely what time for thine help I prayed!

For this will I aye be beholden to thee, as well may I be.

Beyond all friends and kinsmen do I put chief trust in thee!

But seeing that now for a season war unto peace giveth place,

Go to, let us hunt the wild-boar and hold the bear in chase

In the Odenwald, as ofttimes in days overpast have I done.”

—By Hagen was all this plotted, the utter-treacherous one.

“Each guest of mine by my message shall straightway be certified

That tomorn we go forth hunting: whoso with me will ride,

Let him hold him early ready: if any will bide here still

Fleeting careless hours with the ladies, that doth he with my good will.”

With knightly courtesy Siegfried made answer thereunto:

“If ye ride forth a-hunting, I will gladly go with you.

So ye will but lend me a huntsman who shall rouse the quarry for me,

And therewithal some sleuth-hounds, to the forest will I with thee.”

“One huntsman wilt thou only?” King Gunther straightway replied.

“I will lend thee four, an it please thee, which know from side to side

The forest and all the wood-ways, and every wild thing’s lair,

Lest thou err from the path unknowing when campward at even we fare.”

Then rode the hero to Kriemhild, and told to her everything,

The while that the tale of Hagen was told in the ears of the King,

Even all his deadly devising against that noble thane:—

God grant such treachery never may be wrought by man again!

(C) So when these royal hunters had woven the dark death-snare,

Then told they the plot to their fellows. Yet Gernot and Giselher

Would not with the rest go hunting. Wherefore from warning their friend

They hardened their hearts, I know not. Fully paid was the price in the end.

XVI. How Siegfried was Murdered

Now Gunther the King and Hagen, those knights of high-born blood,

Have contrived with treacherous purpose the hunt through the glades of the wood.

O yea, with their spears keen-whetted will they pierce the forest-bear

And the wild boar and the bison—what sport for the brave more fair?

Forth rode with heart exultant Siegfried amidst of the rest.

All manner of meats followed after for the feasting of host and guest.

In the wood’s dark heart cool-welling is a spring—there left he his life

By the counselling of Brunhild, King Gunther’s ruthless wife.

But the bold knight, ere he departed, farewell to his wife would say.

Already on sumpters laden was his goodly hunting array,

And the gear of his woodland-fellows, for over the Rhine would they now.

But behold, she wept—ah, never had she more cause, I trow!

Soft on the lips he kissed her, his well-belovèd one:

“God grant me to see thee, belovèd, safe and sound anon,

And that thy sweet eyes may behold me!—with the friends thou boldest dear

Fleet thou the time all-careless: I may not tarry here.”

Then called she to mind the story—yet durst not tell him the tale—

Told erewhile unto Hagen: bitterly ’gan she bewail,

That noble Daughter of Princes, that ever she saw the light;

And brake into measureless weeping the bride of Siegfried the knight.

And she spake to her lord: “I beseech thee, O let this hunting be!

Last night was my dream a horror: two wild boars tracking thee

Held thee in chase o’er a moorland—then flowers grew suddenly red!

Cause have I for bitter weeping; for fear is mine heart as lead.

I fear—oh, I needs must shudder at the thought of a treacherous blow,

If haply offence hath been given to an unforgetting foe,

Unto some who might visit their hatred and malice on thee and me.

Stay here, dear lord: I beseech thee in love and in loyalty!”

But he said: “My wife, my belovèd, I shall be but a few days gone.

Is there any that here bears hatred to me?—I know not one.

Lo, one and all thy kinsmen unto me are gracious-willed,

And I, I have earned no guerdon save the love wherewith they be filled.”

“Ah no, but my lord, but my Siegfried, thy very death do I dread!

For I dreamed yet again for mine anguish: crashing down on thine head

Suddenly fell two mountains—and I saw thee never again!

If now from me thou departest, it shall be for mine uttermost pain.”

Then cast he his arms about her, the utter-faithful and dear,

And essayed with loving kisses that fairest of women to cheer.

This was their last leave-taking: lo, he is gone from her bower.

Alas and alas, never living she beheld him from that hour!

So the King rode forth to the wood-lawns that the forest’s arms enfold,

Seeking the hunter’s pastime, and many a baron bold

With Gunther rode and his liegemen. Two only were lacking there,

Twain in the city that tarried, Gernot and Giselher.

Many a beast full-laden before them passed over Rhine

For those blithe hunting-fellows bearing the bread and the wine,

The flesh and withal the fishes, and abundance of everything

Which beseemeth the lord of a kingdom when he goeth journeying.

Then chose they a place for their camping on the skirts of the forest green

Or ever the game brake cover, those lordly hunters keen:

Thence would they slip the sleuth-hounds—’twas a river-mead wide-spread.

And now overtook them Siegfried, and this to the King one said.

Then set they their watch of the huntsmen all round on every side

At the outlets of the wild-wood: then Siegfried the mighty cried,

And spake the valiant hero: “Now who shall show us the way,

O valiant knights and stalwart, to the lairs of the woodland prey?”

“Let us sunder each from other,” spake Hagen unto the rest,

“Or ever in chase of the quarry thicket and glade we quest.

So shall I and my royal master make proof of you all, and say

Who hath most cunning in woodcraft of all this hunter-array.

Henchmen and hounds, we will part them, that each may take his share;

Then, whithersoe’er each listeth, alone let each man fare.

Who taketh the goodliest quarry, to him will we give the praise.”

Then short time tarried the heroes from tracking the wild-wood ways.

Again spake Siegfried the noble: “Unto hounds have I no will,

Save for one only setter so blooded by woodcraft-skill

That he tracketh the slot unerring through the tangled forest wide.

Now, ho for a fortunate hunting!” the lord of Kriemhild cried.

Then a certain grey-haired hunter in the leash a sleuth-hound led,

And he brought those barons, or ever long time in seeking had fled,

Where they came on the wildwood’s children; whatsoe’er from covert burst

Was chased of those merry comrades, as huntsmen have done from the first.

Whatsoe’er his sleuth-hound started, that by the swift right hand

Was slain of Siegfried the valiant, the Hero of Netherland.

So fleet were the feet of his good steed, that nought might his speed outrun;

So the praise of cunning woodcraft before them all he won:

In all manner of hunter’s prowess he stood without a peer.

The first of the forest-children that fell before his spear

Was a strong young boar, and the javelin of Siegfried drank its blood.

Not long thereafter a lion fierce-eyed before him stood.

The hound gave tongue—forth leapt he—the hero shot with the bow

Speeding the keen-tipped arrow drawn on his woodland foe.

The shot struck home, and the lion thereafter leapt but thrice;

And the hero’s hunting-fellows acclaimed him with gladsome cries.

A bison he smote thereafter; a huge elk low hath he laid;

Four urochs strong, and a great stag, a giant of the glade.

So swiftly his good horse bare him, there was nought that his speed outsped.

Harts and hinds uncounted beneath his wood-spear bled.

And now, uproused by the sleuth-hound, a wild boar burst from his lair:

Even as to flight he turned him, behold, before him there

Was the fleet-foot Lord of the Woodland, and Siegfried barred his path.

Then charged on the gallant hero the monster foaming in wrath;

But the sword of the lord of Kriemhild with a swift thrust laid him low:

None other hunter living so featly had dealt the blow.

When dead he lay by the thicket, they leashed the hound again.

Now marvelled all Burgundians at the wealth of prey he had ta’en.

“If the thing may be asked offenceless,” his huntsman merrily said,

“Leave unto us, Lord Siegfried, of the wild things some few head.

Mountain and forest thou makest of tenants dispossessed!”

Sunnily smiled the hero at the old rough woodland jest.

Then halloo of men and baying of dogs burst forth all round:

Uprose so mighty a clamour of voices of huntsman and hound

That the mountain-side and the forest rang and rang again,

For that four and twenty couples were unleashed by the hunters then.

From the hearts of many children of the wild the life was riven,

While hoped full many a hunter that unto him should be given

The chiefest prize of woodcraft; but such might ne’er have been

While yet beside the camp-fire Siegfried the mighty was seen.

By now came the hunt to an ending, but not so wholly so,

But that still were the hunters bringing to the light of the camp-fire’s glow

Fells full many of wild things, and of venison good store:—

How busy now were the henchmen as the flesh to the spits they bore!

Then gave the King commandment that the hunters princely-born

Unto the supper be bidden: one long blast on the horn

Pealed far through the aisles of the forest, telling to all their band

That now at the place of the trysting waited the lord of the land.

Then spake a hunter of Siegfried: “My lord, I hear the blast

Of a horn that giveth us token that now must all we haste

Back to the place of the trysting. Now will I answer thereto.”

Then long blasts crying “Where are ye?” to their fellow-hunters flew.

Made answer Siegfried the noble, “Now forth of the wood must we.”

Smoothly the good steed bare him, fast followed his company.

They roused with their crashing and clamour a forest-beast fierce-eyed,

A savage bear; and the hero unto them that followed cried:

“I will show to our hunting-fellows a sport of merry glee.

Yonder a bear have I sighted: the hound from the leash slip ye.

Sir Bear to the place of the camping shall ride with us this day.

O nay, he shall not escape us, flee he as fast as he may!”

They slipped from the leash the sleuth-hound; swift turned the bear and fled,

And Kriemhild’s lord hard after to ride him down on-sped.

But he won a ravine all-rocky, too rugged for hoof of steed;

And the strong beast thought: “From the hunters now am I verily freed!”

But the good knight leapt exultant from the saddle, and so on foot

Rushed through the brake pursuing, and came unwares on the brute

As slowly he threaded the tangle: his strong hands gripped straightway

And cast it to earth unwounded, and swiftly bound the prey.

Fangs, claws were all unavailing against his masterful might:

Fast to the saddle he lashed it; then mounted the gallant knight,

And on to the place of the camp-fire he bare it triumphant-souled

To make sport for his hunting-fellows, that goodly thane and bold.

Ha, in what lordly splendour he rode amidst the throng,

With the mighty hunting-javelin, of the keen broad blade and long,

With the goodly battle-broadsword that low as his spur-tip hung,

With the ruddy golden bugle from the hero’s baldric slung!

Of goodlier hunting-raiment never hath story told.

His mighty frame did a doublet of the velvet black enfold:

With the sable’s fur dark-lustrous his golden hair was crowned;

And ah, what rich-wrought fringes bordered his quiver round!

A panther’s fell, by reason that ever about it clung

A strange sweet scent, encased it: from his shoulders a cross-bow swung

So mighty, that, save with a windlass, none but himself alone

Could bend its arch, yet lightly by his fingers was it done.

Sea-otter’s skin was his mantle, the fell from a far shore brought;

From shoulder to heel with white tufts was it richly overwrought;

And all throughout the fur-gloss shone flicker and glint of gold

That over-rippled the mantle of that forest-master bold.

Girt to his side was Balmung, that broad and sunbright brand,

Of such exceeding sharpness that none might its edge withstand

When lightened through battle’s tempest that helmet-sundering sword.

Well might he be heart-uplifted, that princely hunter-lord!

If I needs must tell the story from end to end all o’er,

I must sing of the goodly quiver and its plenteous arrow-store,

Whose shafts had gold bands clamping the handbreadth heads thereto.

Woe to the mark of that archer, for death on the points of them flew.

On came that stately rider forth of the forest-glade,

And the liegemen of Gunther beheld him like a king of hunters arrayed;

And they ran to meet him coming, and his bridle held they for him:—

Lo, cast across his saddle a huge bear mighty of limb!

Soon as on earth he lighted, from muzzle and shaggy paw

Loosed he the bands that bound it, and all the bandogs saw

That bear in their midst, and straightway all furiously they bayed.

Then rushed for the forest the monster: ha, many were sore afraid;

For the beast, from the tumult fleeing, through their woodland cooking-hall

Burst—how from the fires did the henchmen leap, and asunder fall!

Overturned was many a caldron, the brands hurled every way—

Woe’s me for the goodly victual flung mid the ashes grey!

Up from their seats on the greensward did earl and henchman spring:

Fiercely the bear snarled fleeing: straightway commanded the King

To loose the hound-pack on him, for by this all leashed they lay.

Ah, the day had had blithe ending—had that been the end of the day!

With bows and with spears on rushed they, was none that tarried there.

Fast followed the swift pursuers on the track of the fleeing bear:

Yet no man dared loose arrow, so thronged the hounds at his heels.

So loud was the tumult, the forest rang with the echo-peals.

The brute from the host of the bandogs fled with his uttermost might:

None save the lord of Kriemhild could follow that headlong flight;

But he swooped on the maddened quarry, with his sword he smote him and slew;

And the shaggy spoil to the camp-fire back the henchmen drew.

Then cried they all which beheld it, “Sooth, here is a stalwart lord!”

Now bade they the princely hunters to the forest banquet-board.

There in a fair green wood-lawn they sat in a great wide ring.

Unto these lordly hunters what goodly meats did they bring!

But the cupbearers far off lingered: no man with wine drew near,

Else never had feasting heroes been served with nobler cheer.

Had false hearts not thereunder been contriving treachery,

Those royal banquet-givers from reproach had been wholly free.

(C) By the wings of death overshadowed, nought knew he, the hero betrayed,

Neither dreamed of the snares of treason that round his feet were laid.

Yea, he was the flower of knighthood, deceit in him there was none.

—Ah, many that gat no profit thereof for his death must atone!

Then out spake Siegfried the noble: “In sooth, I marvel sore

That, seeing they bring from the camp-fires of meat such plenteous store,

The cupbearers bring not also therewithal the wine!

If this be your wont, ye are henceforth no hunting-fellows of mine.

Yet sure might I well deserve it, that ye fairly entreat your guest.”

Then spake from his place at the table the King with guileful breast:

“For this will we yet make atonement, this one day’s oversight.

Blameworthy is Hagen only, who would slay us with thirst outright.”

Made answer Hagen of Troneg: “My lord and master dear,

I weened that to-day our hunting should have been afar from here

In the forest of the Spessart, and thither the wine I sent.

If to-day ye be wineless, hereafter shall your hearts be well content.”

Made answer Siegfried the noble: “Small thank for thy promise have thou!

Of mead and of wine of the clearest seven sumpter-loads even now

Should have been in our midst unladen; or, if this too hard were found,

Nigher the good Rhine-water should have been our camping-ground.”

Made answer Hagen of Troneg: “My lords, and thou, O King,

I know where nigh to us lieth a cool-upwelling spring.

That ye be not indignant against me, I counsel that thither we go.”

—That rede unto many a hero was fraught with bitter woe!

Now by this was the good knight Siegfried with thirst-pangs sore distressed.

“Now thrust ye aside the table,” the hero cried to the rest;

“I will hence away to the hill-side, and drink thereby of the well.”

So all that counsel of treason as the false lords plotted befell.

The woodland spoil they laded upon wains, and bore through the land,

Even all that in that day’s hunting had fallen to Siegfried’s hand.

What folk soever beheld it the praise of the hero spoke

Even in the hour when Hagen his faith with Siegfried broke.

When these to the broad lime shading the spring were at point to have sped,

Even then spake Hagen of Troneg: “Oft have I heard this said,

That none with the lord of Kriemhild in fleetness of foot may vie,

If he put forth his strength in running: lo now, the truth let us try.”

Then the noble thane and valiant, the Hero of Netherland, spake:

“Thereof may ye well make trial, if with me ye be minded to make

A running-match to the well-head. If this shall of us be done,

Whoso is first, account we him our fleetest one.”

“Good, let us thereof make trial,” made answer Hagen the thane.

Then again spake Siegfried the stalwart: “If ye pass me, either of twain,

Then on the grass my body before your feet will I fling.”

How blithe to hear that promise was Gunther the traitor king!

Then spake that fearless hero: “This too unto you will I say:

I will bear on my body my raiment and all my war-array,

My boar-spear, yea, and my buckler, and all mine hunter’s weed.”

Therewithal with his sword and his quiver he girded himself with speed.

Then these twain stripped all raiment from their limbs, and on earth they laid,

And in nought save thin white tunics men saw their bodies arrayed.

Bounding as two wild panthers they raced o’er the clover green;

But long ere they won to the fountain, there standing was Siegfried seen.

In all manner of prowess ever men gave him the chiefest renown.

Straightway he unbuckled his war-glaive, his quiver laid he down,

And he leaned the stubborn boar-spear on the linden-tree’s smooth shaft.

And the princely guest stood waiting where the dimpling ripples laughed:

Yea, Siegfried then, as ever, his knightly courtesy showed.

He laid on the earth his buckler hard by where the runnel flowed.

How sorely he thirsted soever, not yet the hero drank

Till first the King had drunken—he earned right evil thank!

Clear was the spring as crystal, pure was the water and cool.

Down on the brink bowed Gunther, and stooped his lips to the pool;

And when to the full he had drunken, again to his feet did he rise,

While still looked Siegfried the fearless on the water with longing eyes.

For his courtesy heavily paid he!—his bow and his mighty sword

Were borne away by Hagen from their noble-hearted lord.

Back swiftly sprang the traitor; on the javelin his grasp he laid,

And glared in search of the token at the vest of the man betrayed.

Even as Siegfried the noble drank of the life-giving flood,

Fair through the crosslet he stabbed him. Sprang from the wound the blood,

His heart’s blood; and Hagen’s tunic was besprent with murder’s stain.

—Never may hand of warrior such villainy do again!

There in his heart deep-planted the murderer left the spear.

How swiftly thence did Hagen flee in his deadly fear!

Never on earth so fleetly from the face of man fled he

As when Siegfried’s limbs at the death-stab leapt convulsively.

Forthright did the maddened hero up from the well-brink spring:

Stood far out ’twixt his shoulders the long shaft quivering:

Swift glanced he around, as thinking to find there bow or sword—

Good sooth, he had dealt unto Hagen a richly-earned reward!

But now when the deadly-wounded might nowhere find his brand,

No weapon save only his buckler lay ready there to his hand:

That snatched he up from the well-side, and in chase of the murderer ran.

Full soon was the fleeing Hagen outrun by the dying man.

Albeit to death he was stricken, he smote with such mighty power

That out of the shield-face started and fell to earth in a shower

The costly gemstones: rifted was the very buckler’s rim—

Grim earnest of what stern vengeance he fain would have wreaked upon him!

By his hands’ resistless smiting was Hagen hurled to the ground:

With the clang of that mighty buffet the wood-lawn echoed round.

Had he gripped in his hand but his war-glaive, surely had Hagen been slain.

Maddened him now that death-wound, a very torment of pain.

Now fled from his face all colour, he was reeling on tottering feet:

Fainted his strength from his body as when earth-spilt waters fleet:

Death set on his brow his token, his lips were ashen-grey.

—Ah, many a comely woman for this mourned many a day!

On flowers with red dew sprinkled the belovèd of Kriemhild fell,

With the blood from his wound outbursting as the streams from a spring outwell.

Then he brake into bitter upbraiding from the lips by anguish wrung

Against them which had compassed his murder by the snare of a lying tongue.

Loud cried the deadly-wounded: “Dastards, accursèd be ye!

Where now is my guerdon for service to you who have murdered me?

Your stay was I still and your helper: for all this death is my meed!

O caitiffs, that do unto kinsman and friend so evil a deed!

Accursèd for this your offspring, even all that shall see the light,

Shall be ever from this day onward! Your malice and your spite

Ruthlessly on my body have ye wreaked all causelessly!

By all good knights shunned ever for your villainy ye shall be!”

Now by this had the knights run thither, and saw where murdered he lay.

To many a man true-hearted was that a joyless day.

Who cherished faith and honour, they wailed for the glory slain:

Well of them all he deserved it, that battle-fearless thane!

The traitor king that consented to his death wept now for it:

But the death-stricken cried: “Thou needest not this, thou hypocrite!

What doth he to weep for the mischief, who the profit thereof hath won?

O’erlate the accursèd repenteth the deed best left undone!”

Spake Hagen then, the relentless: “I see not why ye should rue.

There is an end of the terror that hath haunted us hitherto.

Few now are the foes remaining that against our might shall stand.

Glad am I that this man’s lordship is brought to an end by mine hand.”

“Lightly enow may ye vaunt you!” did the hero of Netherland cry:

“Had I known thy murderous purpose, thou serpent of treachery,

Full well against this thy plotting had Siegfried warded his life!

Ah, now is my chiefest sorrow for Kriemhild my widowed wife.

Now God forgive it, that ever to me hath a son been born

On whom shall be cast his life long the flouts of men and their scorn,

Because of the man whom his kinsfolk betrayed to his death with a kiss!

Had I but time—had I respite—well might I wail for this!

(C) Never was murder compassed so with villainy fraught,”

Unto the King said Siegfried, “as this that on me ye have wrought!

In the day of your dread I saved you, I helped you in bitterest need:

And for all my service rendered this is mine evil meed!”

Yet again that death-stricken hero spake with an anguished moan:

“If it be possible, Gunther, that to any on earth can be shown

By thee true faith hereafter, let one be commended now,

My dear-loved wife, to thine honour as a king: protect her thou.

May this for her profit avail her, that she is thy sister still.

By all the honour of princes, defend her thou from ill!

For me, for me shall my father and my liegemen tarry long.

Ne’er from her nearest and dearest hath woman received such wrong!”

(C) Then writhed he in mortal sufferance: he gasped with hard-drawn breath;

And he groaned from a heart sore anguished: “For this my murderous death

Through all your days hereafter shall ye bear the brand of Cain.

Know me herein true prophet—your own selves have ye slain!”

To right and to left were the flowers all drenched with the crimson flow.

Now hard with death is he wrestling, but short is the agony-throe,

For the wound that the blade death-dealing had stricken was all too sore.

Now the peerless knight and stainless shall never speak word more.

When they saw, those lords there standing, that the noble hero was dead,

They lifted him up, and they laid him on a golden buckler red.

Then took they counsel together that the truth might be known unto none,

And how this thing should be hidden, that of Hagen the deed had been done.

Spake of them many: “Evil this day is, a day of bale!

Remaineth only concealment: ye needs must be all in a tale.

We must say, as alone he was riding, robbers beset and slew

The hero, the lord of Kriemhild, as he fared the wildwood through.”

Spake Hagen of Troneg: “To Rhineland will I bear him, even I.

No whit shall it trouble Hagen, though she know all certainly,

That woman who dared flout Brunhild, and fill her heart with woe!

Let her weep, let her do as she listeth—I shall reck of it little enow.”

(C) Now as touching that selfsame fountain—if ye peradventure be fain

To learn where welleth the water whereby was Siegfried slain—

On the Odenwald’s fringe a village, hight Odenheim, doth lie:

Still floweth the stream—of a surety Siegfried died thereby.

XVII. How Siegfried was Mourned and Buried

Till the even they waited; in darkness they crossed the Rhineflood then.

Never from eviller hunting came heroes home again!

That quarry was cause of lamenting unto many a noble wife:

For his sake must many a warrior forfeit a gallant life.

Of exceeding arrogant outrage now must the minstrel sing,

Yea, of revenge inhuman; for Hagen made them bring

The Netherland hero Siegfried, even his murdered kin,

Before a certain chamber—and Kriemhild lay therein!

Secretly there he laid him, before that door to lie,

That his wife might find his body when her feet came forth thereby

Unto mass in the grey dawn faring ere rising of the sun;

For thereof the Lady Kriemhild missed full seldom one.

Then heard they the bells as aforetime peal from the minster-tower;

And Kriemhild the lovely wakened the maidens of her bower;

And she bade bring lights, and the raiment withal that she should wear;

And a chamberlain bringing them stumbled on Siegfried lying there.

He beheld one blood-empurpled, with all his vesture wet;

But that this was his own lord Siegfried in no wise knew he yet.

So bare he into the chamber the torch in his hand that burned;

And from him the Lady Kriemhild a tale of horror learned.

For, even as she with her maidens would forth to the holy place,

“O Lady,” the chamberlain stammered, “tarry a little space!

Behold, without the chamber a murdered knight doth lie!”

Rang out from the lips of Kriemhild an exceeding bitter cry.

Ere she had looked, ere the fearful truth was certainly known,

Back to that question of Hagen her thought had swiftly flown,

How he should shield him. Anguish she never had known till that day;

But now with his death all gladness from her life had fled away.

To the floor then sank she swooning; no word her lips could say.

There in the heavy silence the lovely and joyless lay.

Full was her cup of sorrow, sharp was her anguish-pang.

She came to herself with a wild shriek, that all the chamber rang.

Then faltered her bower-maidens, “A stranger it haply may be.”

But the blood from her mouth came bursting in her heart’s fierce agony—

“O nay, it is Siegfried, Siegfried, my lord, my belovèd one!

Brunhild hath plotted the murder, and Hagen the deed hath done!”

Then forth did her handmaids lead her, where lay the hero dead;

And the wife’s white hands uplifted the husband’s comely head.

Albeit with blood all crimsoned, he was known of love’s keen sight.

There lay the Niblung hero in lamentable plight.

Then the cry of a queen’s heart-anguish through the shadowy palace pealed

“Woe for my bitter affliction!—behold, how lieth thy shield

With swords unbacked! O Siegfried, thee did a murderer smite!

Him—knew I the doer—my vengeance to the uttermost should requite!”

Brake forth into wailing her maidens with lamentation loud

With her, their belovèd Lady: they mourned all sorrow-bowed

For their noble King and their Master, lost unto them for aye.

Foully avenged by Hagen was Brunhild’s wrath that day!

Then spake the sorrow-stricken: “Let some one haste away,

And swiftly arouse from slumber my Siegfried’s vassal-array:

Let him tell withal unto Siegmund the tale of my bitter pain.

He must bear his part in the wailing o’er valiant Siegfried slain.”

Then ran a messenger, hasting where lay the warrior-band

Of the vassals of King Siegfried, the Lord of the Netherland.

That story of sore tribulation stripped bare their life of its joys.

They believed not, till came far-ringing that lamentable voice.

Hasted the messenger onward, where the old King lay on his bed;

Yet not on the eyes of Siegmund had the dews of slumber been shed,

For dimly his heart foreboded the sorrow hard by the door.

He was doomed to behold his belovèd, his son, in life no more!

“Wake thee, O wake, King Siegmund! Tidings to thee I bring

From the Lady Kriemhild my mistress—there hath happed a fearful thing.

Above all woes known or imagined she hath suffered grief and wrong.

Thou must bear thy part in the wailing, for to thee doth the sorrow belong.”

Uprose then Siegmund, and questioned: “For what lamenteth she,

My daughter, Kriemhild the lovely, as now thou sayest to me?”

“Sore cause hath she for lamenting,” weeping the messenger said:

“Murdered is Siegfried the valiant, her lord and her love lieth dead!”

Answered and spake King Siegmund: “Jest me no jests! Have done

With a tale of such evil tidings concerning Siegfried my son!

Unto no man say thou hereafter that slain he is!—O nay,

For then could I never with wailing have done to my latest day!”

“Nay then, if thou wilt not believe me, if thou wilt not receive my tale,

Thou shalt learn for thine own self—hearken! for that is Kriemhild’s wail

And the cry of all her maidens for Siegfried in death laid low!”

Sharp terror thrilled through Siegmund, and pangs of unfeignèd woe.

He sprang from his bed: gathered round him a hundred men of his band.

Each man had caught up swiftly a sword keen-whetted in hand.

Forth ran they whither the woeful death-keen guided them on,

And after them knights a thousand, bold Siegfried’s vassals, are gone.

Was none that bethought him of vesture, till suddenly these drew nigh

Where the long wild wail of the women went shivering up to the sky.

In their anguish had none remembered; they knew not what they did;

All thought was buried with sorrow in the grave of their hearts deep hid.

So came King Siegmund where Kriemhild crouched by Siegfried’s side:

“Woe for our journey hither to this land accursèd!” he cried.

“Who hath reft from thee thine husband, hath torn this son most dear

From me by the hand of murder, when none but friends were near?”

“Ha, if I knew but the felon,” in fierce grief answered the Queen,

“Never mine heart should forgive him while memory’s edge is keen!

With such vengeance would I requite him, that all his friends and his kin.

Trust me, should weep for my weeping, should find their affliction therein!”

Then in his arms did Siegmund embrace that fallen chief;

Then rose from all his lovers so mighty a cry of grief

That with that wild lamentation did hall and palace ring,

And wailed up the streets of the city the shrieks wide-echoing.

Who then to the wife of Siegfried to speak of comfort dared?

They drew off the blood-stained raiment, and his goodly limbs they bared.

They washed his wounds dark-clotted, they laid him on the bier.

High swelled the tide of anguish in all that held him dear.

Then cried aloud his warriors that came from the Netherland:

“Ready and eager for vengeance waiteth ever our hand.

Here in this castle he lurketh of whom the deed was done!”

Then hasted the knights of Siegfried to gird their armour on.

With their shields those chosen heroes full-armed returned again,

Brave knights eleven hundred; they were all of the warrior-train

Now of the old King Siegmund: full fain for the death of his son

Would the father have taken vengeance; yea, honour spurred him on.

But as yet these wronged ones knew not upon whom should their vengeance light,

Unless peradventure with Gunther and his vassals they closed in fight;

For these on that woeful hunting with Siegfried rode that day.

Then all-armed Kriemhild beheld them, and filled was her soul with dismay.

How wild was her grief soever, how tortured soever her breast,

Yet for the lives of the Niblungs she trembled terror-distressed,

Lest by the men of her brethren they be slain; and she earnestly spake,

And in love she warned them, as ever doth friend for a dear friend’s sake:

And she cried from the depths of her sorrow: “My lord, O Siegmund King,

What would ye essay? Ye know not how all too hard is the thing.

For the valiant men of Gunther be a passing great array:

Ye shall perish all of a surety, if ye fall on so many as they!”

But they clashed their uptossed bucklers, with the battle-lust were they mad.

But the noble Daughter of Princes now pleaded, and now forbade

Those knights all battle-eager to rush upon their doom;

And it troubled her very sorely that they would not be turned therefrom.

Then she turned to the King—“Lord Siegmund, for this time sheathed be the sword

Till there come a convenient season. Fear not, for my murdered lord

I will help you to wreak full vengeance. Who hath torn my love from mine hands

Shall drink of my vengeance deeply, when once convicted he stands.

But here by the Rhine so many of our haughty foes there are,

That I counsel you, I beseech you, rush not yet into war.

They can set in array full thirty where we can set but one.

May God so do to the traitors as they unto us have done!

Abide ye here in the palace, and mourn for my dead with your Queen,

Until the day beginneth, O heroes battle-keen:

Then help me to lay in a coffin the man beloved of me.”

Answered the thanes: “Dear Lady, as thou wilt, so shall it be.”

The marvel of that lamentation, no man can tell it o’er,

How the wail of the knights and the maidens, like the stormy tempest-roar,

Shrieked through the shuddering city till all her people heard,

And thitherward hasted the burghers, a great throng terror-stirred.

They joined to the guests’ their wailing, they grieved for the glory gone.

Wherein had Siegfried offended, unto no man was it known:

Nay, none could divine cause wherefore the good knight lost his life.

So wept with the Queen’s handmaidens many a burgher’s wife.

Now for the silversmiths sent they, and bade them haste to mould

A great and strong-knit coffin of silver and ruddy gold;

And with burnished steel they bade them brace it in every part.

All folk were of sorrowful spirit, and exceeding heavy of heart.

By this was the night passed over: one said, “Lo, day is near.”

And the noble Queen commanded to the minster-door to bear

Her royal dead, her husband for ever well-beloved;

And with her all friends sore weeping in long procession moved.

So when to the minster they brought him, tolled forth many a bell,

And the chant of the priests rose upward, and the requiem’s solemn swell.

And thitherward King Gunther and all his liegemen came.

Yea, Hagen the grim mid the mourners stood—and had no shame!

And the King said: “Sister belovèd, alas for thy sore distress!

Alas for the heavy affliction that toucheth us no less!

We too for the death of Siegfried must evermore lament.”

“Wrongly ye do!” cried the Lady from a heart with anguish rent.

“If ye hereby were afflicted, it had never befallen so!

Nay, me had ye wholly forgotten, and this full well I know,

In the hour when thus I was severed from my lord, my love, my one!

Oh would to God in heaven that to me this deed had been done!”

But they held to their lying story. Then did Kriemhild say:

“He that affirmeth him guiltless may prove it now straightway.

Here in the presence of all men let him go and stand by the bier!

Forthright before all people shall the very truth appear.”

A marvel it is past telling, oft have we known it betide:—

When the slayer murder-polluted is seen by the dead man’s side,

The wounds bleed in witness against him: so did it now befall,

And thereby was the guilt of Hagen made manifest unto all.

For the wound brake forth into bleeding, as freely as at the first.

Now they that before wept sorely into wilder weeping burst.

But answered and spake King Gunther: “Now hearken, the truth is this—

He was set on and slain of robbers: no deed of Hagen it is.”

But Kriemhild replied: “These robbers but all too well I know!

God give to the hands of his kinsmen vengeance on his foe!

Thou, Gunther, and thou, Hagen, of you was the foul deed done!”

Surged forward the vassals of Siegfried, fierce-eager to fall on.

But Kriemhild spake: “Unto mourning be this hour sacred, I pray!”

Then two beside of her kinsmen drew nigh where the dead man lay,

Even her brethren, Gernot and the stripling Giselher:

And in leal faith these bewailed him with all the true souls there.

Yea, from the heart they lamented for Kriemhild’s perished lord.

Now pealed the holy mass-chant: through the doors of the minster poured

On every hand young children no less than women and men.

Even they whom his death smote lightly, wept with the best for him then.

Spake Giselher and Gernot: “O sister, receive of us thou

For the death of thy lord consolation: it is past all healing now.

Thy loss by our love will we make good, so long as we both shall live.”

But no one on earth could console her, of none would she comfort receive.

By this was his coffin fashioned, when the sun in the mid-heaven shone.

Loving hands from the bier uplifted the corpse that lay thereon.

But the Queen said: “Nay, I beseech you, lay him not yet in the grave;

Ere then heavy tribute of mourning from all that love him I crave.”

In a pall most costly-woven that lifeless form they wound.

Of a surety none that wept not was in all that concourse found.

From her heart poured Uta the noble lamentation and mourning and woe;

Wailing were all her handmaids for the princely head brought low.

When the folk heard how in the minster they sang the requiem,

And that Siegfried lay in his coffin, there came vast throngs of them

With their offerings—ah, how freely!—to buy his soul’s repose.

Good friends had he without number in the very house of his foes.

Kriemhild the hapless woman to her treasure-keeper spake:

“Now sorrow ye all in my sorrow, and suffer dole for my sake,

All ye whose hearts have loved him, all ye that be true unto me.

For the rest of the soul of Siegfried gold to the poor give ye.”

There was no child so little, so it had understanding at all,

But something it brought for the masses for him who lay stark under pall.

Yea, full one hundred masses on that one day did they sing.

Ah, there was a mighty concourse of lovers of that dead king!

When ended was all the mass-chant, the vast crowd melted away.

But again to her friends spake Kriemhild: “Leave me not this day

To keep vigil alone o’er the hero, the hope of the world and its pride;

Now all the joy of my life-days is buried by his side.

Three days, three nights unceasing will I keep vigil here

Till my soul is filled with lamenting for him, my lord most dear.

Peradventure His white Death-angel for me too God will send;

So the sorrow of Kriemhild the hapless should find a blessèd end.”

Now homeward the folk of the city were gone to their rest and their sleep:

But the priests and the monks aye chanting that vigil with her must keep;

And his vassals and leal retainers that served that gallant chief—

Ah, weariful nights were appointed to these, and days of grief.

Through the days of their mourning many drank not, nor tasted of bread:

But, for such as could not endure it, to these was it plainly said:

“Eat, drink, for we give to you freely.” King Siegmund cared therefor.

Then fell on the faithful Niblungs trouble and travail sore.

As telleth the olden story, through three days weary-long

Never an hour of respite from holy chant and song

Had any singer of masses. What wealth of offerings

Poured in! Then even the poorest could give like very kings.

For they sought out the poor and needy, and into their hands was poured

By Kriemhild’s treasure-warders gold from the dead king’s hoard;

So brought they of their abundance—ay, now that he lived no more,

Thousands of marks for his soul’s rest were given from a fathomless store.

Lands and their revenues gave she through the whole land everywhere

Unto many a hallowed cloister, unto many a man of prayer.

Silver they gave unstinted, and raiment unto the poor.

So showed she before all people what love to the dead she bore.

When rang the bells unto high-mass on that third morning-tide,

There were seen all round the minster in the churchyard great and wide

The folk of the country weeping; they thronged it from end to end.

Yea, in death did they do him service, as unto a dear-loved friend.

In these four days of their mourning, as the old bards sang unto me,

Marks full thirty thousand, yea, more, it well may be,

To the poor were freely given, that all for his soul might pray,

Now that all his life and his beauty as a shadow had passed away.

The service of God was ended, into silence sank the song.

With a storm of weeping shaken was all that mighty throng.

Then out of the dim-lit minster forth to the grave was he borne—

Oh wail of the hungry-hearted, oh voice of them that mourn!

On moved that endless procession with cries of lamenting loud;

No face that was glad, or of woman or man, was in all that crowd.

Ere earth to earth they committed, once more did they pray and sing.

What countless holy fathers were seen at his burying!

Or ever the true and faithful, the wife, to the grave-side came,

With such fierce throes of anguish shaken was all her frame,

That they needs must with cool spring-water besprinkle her once and again,

So racked was her heart overmeasure with agonies of pain.

In sooth, ’twas a marvel exceeding that she died not there outright.

Weeping her women upbare her with their hands on the left and the right.

“O ye true men of Siegfried,” thus did the sad Queen cry,

“I pray you of your compassion, and of your fealty,

Vouchsafe unto me in my sorrow this one little grace

That once more and for the last time I may look on his lovely face!”

So long in her anguish she pleaded, so earnestly she besought,

That they needs must at last wrench open the coffin richly wrought.

The Queen then thitherward led they, and she bowed her over her dead.

In her white hands she enfolded and lifted his comely head;

And she kissed that faded glory, that noble knight and good.

Her starry eyes for sorrow wept very tears of blood.

An exceeding pitiful parting saw all men in that hour.

Then softly thence they bare her in whose limbs was left no power.

Senseless and stirless lay she in their arms, that stricken wife.

It seemed that for very sorrow from her body would fleet her life.

When thus in his grave lay buried that noble and princely thane,

Then bowed in measureless sorrow sat all his warrior-train,

Even all from the land of the Niblungs that led of his banner had come.

Yea, and the old King Siegmund was whelmed in morningless gloom.

There was many a man among them that for three days long made moan,

And the tears of his bitter anguish were his meat and his drink alone,

Till their bodily frames no longer could so endure and live:

So they took up the burden of living, and a little they ceased to grieve.

(C) But lost unto all things Kriemhild in a deathlike swoon still lay

Through the hours of the day and the darkness, even till the second day.

Whatsoe’er in her ears they whispered, she knew not anything:

And no less stricken of sorrow lay grey-haired Siegmund the King.

(C) Scarce to the mind’s re-dawning he slowly won at the last:

From his limbs by reason of anguish all bodily strength had passed.

No marvel that weak was Siegmund! At last drew his liegemen near,

Saying: “Lord, let us fare hence homeward: boots not that we linger here!”

XVIII. How Kriemhild would not return to the Lowland with Siegmund

Then went the old King Siegmund where Kriemhild sat in her woe,

And he spake to the Queen: “To our own land homeward now let us go.

Guests are we all-unwelcome, I trow well, here by the Rhine.

Come with us, Kriemhild belovèd, to our country, thine and mine.

That thy kin in the land Burgundian have so evil entreated us

In slaying thy noble husband by murder most treacherous,

It shall not be remembered against thee: my love shall cherish thy life,

For the sake of my son and the noble child he hath left to his wife.

Thou, Lady, shalt have dominion, shalt have over all the control

That Siegfried gave to thee ever, that lord of the noble soul.

The crown shalt thou wear, and the kingdom shall bow beneath thy sway.

Thee shall the vassals of Siegfried with willing heart obey,”

Then the word to the squires was given, “Home ride we ere eventide!”

Out of the field they gathered in haste the steeds they should ride.

To dwell mid their deadly foemen was now to their souls as gall.

For the journey prepared was raiment of the dames and the handmaids all.

But now when the old King Siegmund was at point to ride away,

Drew nigh the kinsmen of Kriemhild to plead with her and to pray

That still she would stay with her mother in the land of Burgundy.

Made answer the joyless-hearted: “Now nay, it can never be!

How could I endure it, that ever I should look upon him with mine eyes

Who hath dealt with me, the hapless, in such despiteful wise?”

But the young Prince Giselher answered: “Sister belovèd, now

By a child’s true love I adjure thee, abide with thy mother thou!

For them which have darkened thy spirit, for them which have wounded thine heart,

No need hast thou of their service; in all that is mine thou hast part.”

But she to the knight made answer: “How can it be? Ah no!

If I look on the face of Hagen, I must die for utter woe.”

“Now nay, O sister belovèd, from this will I guard thee well.

With Giselher thy brother here sheltered shalt thou dwell.

My love for the death of thy dear lord shall atone in very deed.”

And the joyless made answer: “Kriemhild thereof hath bitter need!”

Now when in such loving fashion pleaded with her the lad,

Their prayers unto his supplication did Uta and Gernot add.

Yea, all her loyal kinsfolk entreated her there to stay.

“Among all the people of Siegfried no kinsman thou hast,” said they.

“They be all unto thee as strangers, as aliens,” Gernot said.

“Though the living may love thee, the strongest must needs at the last lie dead.

Bethink thee thereof, dear sister: to thine heart speak comfortably.

Here tarry with thine own kinsfolk: so shall it be well with thee.”

So she gave to her brother the promise, to abide with them in the land.

Now by this were the horses gathered for the men of Siegmund’s band;

And all to the land of the Niblungs were ready to ride away,

And laden upon the horses was the good knights’ war-array.

Then unto the bower of Kriemhild went grey-haired Siegmund the King,

And he spake to the Lady: “The warriors of Siegfried’s following

Stand waiting beside their horses. Forth and away let us ride.

The hours unto me are bitter while with Burgundy’s folk I abide.”

But the Lady Kriemhild made answer: “My kinsmen have wrought on my will,

Even my nearest and dearest, here to abide with them still.

None in the land of the Niblungs, say they, of my blood can I find.”

Then sore aggrieved was Siegmund that such should be Kriemhild’s mind.

And answered and spake the old King: “Lest any deceive thee beware.

Thou before all my kinsfolk the royal crown shalt wear,

Yea, wear it by right of kingship, even as heretofore.

For this shalt thou nowise suffer, that thy lord is beside thee no more.

Nay, forth with us do thou journey unto thine home and thy child;

Let him not be an orphan, his father dead, his mother exiled.

When thy son is grown unto manhood, thy comfort shall he be then:

Till then shalt thou have true service of many valiant men.”

But she answered: “My dear lord Siegmund, with thee I may not ride.

Nay, here with mine own must I tarry, what issue soever betide.

In my grief and my wrong to my kinsfolk for comfort and help must I look.”

When this was told them, the tidings ill could the good knights brook.

With one voice cried they against it: “Our plight may we surely deplore

That on us hath affliction lighted now as never before!

If here in the land Burgundian thou with our foes wilt abide,

Never have heroes ridden to an eviller festal-tide!”

But she answered: “In God’s good keeping shall ye fearlessly journey home.

I will get for you trusty escort for your warding until ye be come

Unto your own dear country. Good knights, farewell each one.

Unto your love and compassion I commend my little son.”

So when they knew of a surety that they could not in any wise shake

Her purpose, the men of Siegfried into bitter weeping brake.

Ah, with what deep heart-anguish King Siegmund took farewell

Of Kriemhild! Renewal of sorrow on the childless father fell.

“A curse on that festal high-day!” the King in bitterness cried:

“Never to king and his dear ones did such foul fortune betide

As here upon us hath fallen—and that at a feast, good sooth!

In Burgundy here shall they see us never again, of a truth!”

Then in fierce anger shouted the thanes of Siegfried’s band:

“Nay, once more yet may we journey unto this accursèd land,

If we find, if we prove of a surety who laid our dear lord low.

Amidst his friends have they won them deadly foes enow!”

For the last time kissed he Kriemhild. He spake in sorrow’s despair,

When he saw her steadfastly purposed to abide with her people there:

“Now ride we forth all joyless, as home to our people we go!

Now first my depth of affliction and all my sorrow I know!”

So rode they without all escort from Worms on Rhine away.

Well might they go all-fearless: so stern of mood were they,

That if haply foemen in malice had set upon them then,

Their heads had their own hands warded, those aweless Niblung men.

No leave would they take of any: they shook off the dust of their feet.

Yet Giselher and Gernot full lovingly came to greet

The old king at his departing; for they sorrowed in his heart-pain,

And thereof did they give clear witness, those valiant heroes twain.

For to Siegmund spake Prince Gernot exceeding courteously:

“Now God in Heaven be witness, of the death of Siegfried am I

Wholly and utterly guiltless! Never I heard this said,

That any bare him malice. From mine heart do I mourn for thy dead.”

Then Giselher the young prince provided them escort fair.

So led he unvexed of any the hearts overburdened with care,

Even the King and his good knights, back to their Netherland home.

Ah, with how little rejoicing their kinsmen beheld them come!

Touching all that befell them thereafter the old song holdeth its peace:

But at Worms was the plaining of Kriemhild heard without surcease

That her heart and her wounded spirit had no comforter,

Save one, the loving and faithful, her brother Giselher.

But there sat Brunhild the lovely enthroned in her arrogant pride.

Little she recked of Kriemhild as from depths of despair she cried.

Never in kindness or pity she stooped to the stricken again.

But the years stole on, till Kriemhild wrung her heart too with pain.

XIX. How the Hoard of the Niblungs came to Worms

While sat the noble Kriemhild a watcher by Siegfried’s grave,

Eckwart, Lord of the Marches, unto her with his war-band clave,

In Burgundia-land abiding constrained by his fealty;

And aye for the dead with his mistress he mourned right bitterly.

At Worms hard by the minster they reared her a palace-hall

Wide and stately-builded, and royally-dight withal:

And there with her handmaids round her that joyless one abode,

And oft she fared to the minster, for she loved the house of God.

There, where her belovèd was buried, full seldom her presence failed;

Day after day did she enter with spirit that inly wailed,

And prayed unto God the Almighty to take to his mercy his soul:

Ay, ever the faithful-hearted made for the knight great dole.

Came Uta and all her women to comfort her day by day;

But Kriemhild’s wounded spirit so crushed ’neath affliction lay,

That nothing availed consolation that the lips of the loving spake,

Forasmuch as with sharper anguish did her heart for her lost love ache

Than wife felt ever for husband, were her sorrow never so keen;

And the love of the true and faithful herein was of all men seen

That on to the end she mourned him, long as endured her life,

Till that great vengeance for Siegfried was wreaked at last by the wife.

So sat she sorrow-shrouded—truth is it the minstrel saith—

On till the fourth year’s dawning after her dear lord’s death;

And never a word unto Gunther her lips had uttered yet,

Never her eyes upon Hagen her mortal foe had she set.

Then Hagen spake unto Gunther: “If haply this might be done

That thou so couldst appease thy sister that again ye were set at one,

Then the gold of the Hoard of the Niblungs might unto thy kingdom be brought:

And how much might be thine, if Kriemhild unto lovingkindness were wrought!”

Said Gunther: “We will essay it. By my brethren may she be beguiled:

These shall beset her with pleading that now she be reconciled.

We may win her to bring that treasure—yea, share it willingly.”

“Nay, sooth I misdoubt me,” said Hagen, “that this may ever be.”

Then the King sent word unto Ortwein unto the palace to fare,

And the Lord of the Marches, Gere: when these were gotten there,

Gernot withal, and the young Prince Giselher, they brought.

And these with words of kindness on their lips unto Kriemhild sought.

Then spake the Prince Burgundian Gernot the first, and he said:

“Behold, overlong thou mournest, Lady, for Siegfried dead.

Sure proof shall of Gunther be given that he had no part in his death.

Yet for him folk hear thee mourning evermore with passionate breath.”

She said: “Him no man accuseth: it was Hagen who struck the blow.

Where only my lord could be wounded through me, through me did he know!

Whence should I have had misgivings of the hate unto him that he bare?

Else,” cried the Queen, “I had guarded my lips with jealous care

From the horror of such betrayal of my lord’s beloved life,

And had had no cause for weeping—oh wretched, wretched wife!

Never will I forgive him who wrought that dastard deed!”

Then for the King his brother did Giselher intercede.

(C) “Yea,” said she, “I needs must greet him, ye urge me so cruelly:

Yet so do ye make you partakers in Gunther’s sin against me.

He hath wrung my soul with anguish, who never wronged him yet!

My lips may grant him forgiveness, mine heart will never forget.”

(C) “Yet hereafter shall this be bettered,” whispered her kinsmen then.

If only the King by kindness may win her to smile again,

“He may yet by his love,” said Gernot, “fill all that void in her breast.”

Then again said the sorrow-burdened: “Behold, I grant your request:

I will meet the King, I will greet him.” The word unto Gunther they bring,

And to her with the best of his kinsfolk straightway cometh the King.

But Hagen the murderer dared not in the presence of Kriemhild be seen:

Too well did he know his vileness, the wrong he had done to the Queen.

Yet, seeing her hatred of Gunther was in semblance so put by,

With the kiss of reconcilement might he too have drawn nigh;

Yea, but for the felon plotting, the inexpiable wrong,

Even he might have stood unshrinking mid that false courtier-throng.

Never was reconcilement ’twixt sundered friend and friend

Made with such weeping. Rankled the wound in her heart without end.

Yet unto all forgiveness she granted—save that one.

No man would have slain him, had Hagen the wicked deed not done.

Not long thereafter the plotters brought to pass their intent

That Kriemhild the Daughter of Princes for the Hoard of the Treasure sent

To the land of the Niblungs: to Rhineland she caused them to bring the same.

’Twas her morning-gift, nor its warders might hold it against her claim.

So Giselher and Gernot to bring that Hoard must wend;

And armed men eighty hundred did the Lady Kriemhild send

To bring that hidden treasure from the caverns wherein it lay,

And Alberich the Dwarf-knight and his stout friends warded it aye.

When they saw these men from the Rhineland which had come for the Treasure’s sake,

Then Alberich the valiant to his mighty kinsmen spake:

“We may nowise refuse this treasure, to yield it to her desire;

’Tis her Gift of the Marriage-morning, and the Queen doth her own require.

Howbeit,” said Alberich, “never had this befallen thus,

Except by chance most evil this too had been lost unto us,

The potent Hood of Darkness, which vanished when Siegfried died,

Which the lord of Kriemhild the lovely had ever by his side.

In an evil hour for Siegfried did the Hero win that prey,

And pluck the Hood of Darkness from the hands of its keepers away,

And therewithal the lordship of all this land did he seize.”

Then the seneschal went to the chambers where lay that cavern’s keys.

There stood those sent of Kriemhild in front of the mountain’s door,

And divers withal of her kinsmen. So all that treasure-store

Brought they down to the sea-flood, and the ships therewith were fraught.

So over the rolling waters and on to the Rhine was it brought.

Now of the Hoard of the Niblungs shall ye hear the marvel told:

Twelve wains to the utmost laden down from that mountain-hold

Must bear that treasure seaward: four days and nights toiled they,

Each going and each returning three times each several day.

Therein was there nothing meaner than precious stones and gold,

And if one therewith had purchased all wealth that the world could hold,

“By not one mark is it minished!” whoso had seen it had said.

Not without cause that treasure was of Hagen coveted!

In its midst was the Wishing-rod lying, a little golden wand.

Whoso divined its virtue could stretch his sovereign hand

Over all the wide earth’s compass and all the folk therein.

Back to the Rhine with Gernot went many of Albrich’s kin.

(C) So then when the strong knight Gernot and the young prince Giselher

Had gotten the Hoard in possession, lords thereby they were

Of the Niblung land and its castles, and of many a noble knight:

Unto these came all in subjection through fear and awe of their might.

When in the land of Gunther that Hoard at last was seen,

And thereof was all the lordship laid in the hands of the Queen,

Therewith unto overflowing were towers and chambers stored.

Never since have been told such marvels of any treasure-hoard.

Ah, but had that great Treasure been greater a thousand-fold,

In its stead might she have but regiven from the grave her Siegfried the bold,

O gladly empty-handed had Kriemhild stood by his side!

Never was wife unto hero in love so true and tried.

When now that Hoard was Kriemhild’s, as a lode-star it drew to the land

Knights many from alien kingdoms: so freely bestowed her hand

That never such bounteous giving was seen in the olden days.

Unto all was she open-handed, and all men spoke her praise.

So freely thereof did she lavish on rich alike and on poor,

That Hagen spake unto Gunther: “Lo now, if this woman endure

In life but a little longer, she shall win to her fealty

So great an array of champions, that in evil case shall we be.”

Answered and spake King Gunther: “Her own is the treasure, I trow.

What have I to do to hinder? Let her hands as she will bestow.

Hardly I won her pardon for that first wrong that I wrought.

Let her share as she will her silver and her gold; unto me is it nought.”

To the King made answer Hagen: “Who suffers a woman to rule—

Be she who she may—such a treasure, of a surety he is but a fool.

She shall bring with all this largess a day upon us at the last

When all we bold Burgundians shall rue deeds overpast.”

Answered and spake King Gunther: “An oath unto her I swore

That sorrow or scathe would I visit upon her never more.

And thereunto will I hold me. My sister withal is she.”

Said Hagen: “Do thou nothing: be all the guilt upon me.”

So divers of her kinsmen were traitors again: they brake

Their oath; they robbed the widow, and her mighty wealth did they take.

Seized by the hand of Hagen were the keys that warded the same.

Wroth was her brother Gernot, when he knew that deed of shame.

Spake Giselher the young Prince: “Foul wrong hath been done herein

By Hagen unto my sister: I will none of the shame and the sin!

Yea, he, were he not my blood-kin, should forfeit for this his life!”

Brake forth afresh into weeping Siegfried’s unhappy wife.

Then spake again Prince Gernot: “Or ever such mischief befall

Unto us for the sake of the Treasure, it were well that we sank it all

In the waters of Rhine, to the end that the curse may cleave unto none!”

Unto Giselher came the forlorn one, and to him she made her moan.

She cried: “O brother belovèd, thou shouldst take thought for me:

A warder and protector of my life and my wealth shouldst thou be!”

He answered: “Yea, of a surety thy right shall of me be maintained

When we return—for a journey hath been for thy brethren ordained.”

Then Gunther the King and his kinsmen rode forth of Burgundia-land,

Even all that were best and noblest among them, a princely band.

But to work the will of his hatred Hagen tarried alone,

His undying hatred of Kriemhild: that he did, for her hurt was it done.

For ere that the great King Gunther homeward returned again,

In those days all that treasure Hagen by force had ta’en.

In the river-mere at Lochheim ’neath Rhine he sank it deep.

He sowed unto greed—but destruction was the fruit that his hands were to reap.

Now before that Hagen of Troneg thus hid the Treasure from sight,

Those kinsmen had sworn to each other an oath of awful might,

That, while in the land of the living they were, it should hidden abide;

So these could not use it, nor give it to any other beside.

Thereafter returned those princes with many a noble thane.

Then Kriemhild came before them of her grievous wrong to complain:

With her ladies she came and her maidens. The wrath of the earls flamed high:

They arrayed them against the traitor, and said, “He shall surely die!”

With one voice cried they together: “A wicked deed hath he done!”

From their anger he needs must hide him for a space, till again he won

The princes’ pardon and favour, and they yielded to let him live.

But henceforth was he hated of Kriemhild with the hate that will never forgive.

For now with a new affliction her heart was wrung once more:—

First took they the life of her husband, and now these traitors tore

From her hands her possessions! Her mourning was never at a stay

Through all the space of her life-tide unto her latest day.

From the hour of the death of Siegfried—behold, this witness is true—

Wearily lived she thirteen years of sorrow through,

And ever the death of the Hero unto her spirit clung.

Unto him was she true and faithful, as many a bard hath sung.

(C) A wealthy and princely abbey had Uta builded high

After the death of Dankart with the wealth of her treasury,

And with revenues richly endowed it, which it draweth unto this day.

By Lorsch that cloister standeth in honour abiding aye.

(C) Unto this were given thereafter of Kriemhild unstinted doles

For the peace of the soul of Siegfried, and for all Christian souls.

Gold gave she with hand ungrudging, and many a precious stone.

More faithful wife hath never on earth unto us been known.

(C) Since Kriemhild had granted forgiveness to the King for her lord’s blood spilt,

And of that great hoard thereafter had been spoiled through Gunther’s guilt,

Then higher swelled than ever the tide of her anguish of heart,

And the noble lady and royal from his city was fain to depart.

(C) Now it was so, that Lady Uta had builded a mansion beside

That cloister of Lorsch, a palace goodly and great and wide.

Thither went she leaving her children, and hid her from all men’s eyes;

And there to this day in her coffin the great queen buried lies.

(C) Then spake the old king’s widow: “Belovèd daughter, come;

No longer here shalt thou tarry; with me shall be thine home

At Lorsch in mine own palace: from weeping thou there shalt refrain.”

“Nay, where then,” answered Kriemhild, “shall I leave my lord who was slain?”

(C) “Even here,” said the Lady Uta, “by the minster in peace let him lie.”

“Now God in Heaven forbid it!” that true wife made reply.

“Nay, mother belovèd, never will I suffer it so to be.

Hence of a truth must mine husband be taken thither with me.”

(C) Therefore the sorrowful-hearted bade them unseal his grave.

To the noble bones of the Hero a resting-place they gave

At Lorsch beside the minster with honour manifold.

There still in a giant coffin lies the Hero chivalrous-souled.

(C) But it came to pass at the season when Kriemhild should have gone

To dwell with her mother, even as her will was to have done,

In Worms must she tarry, forbidden to rest by the hallowed shrine.

So was it by reason of tidings that came from afar over Rhine.

XX. How Queen Kriemhild was Wooed for the King of the Huns

It befell in the selfsame season, when the Lady Helka had died,

And Etzel the King would be wooing another woman for bride,

That his kinsmen in council assembled spake unto him of the fame

Of a certain proud queen widowed, that Kriemhild had to name.

Since Helka the Queen, the lovely, was taken from him and from life,

They said: “If haply thou thinkest on another noble wife,

In blood and in virtue the highest that ever prince hath won,

Take Kriemhild: Siegfried the Hero was her lord in days bygone.”

But the mighty King made answer: “Nay, how may this thing be?

A heathen am I; baptismal waters have touched not me;

And she is a Christian woman—the thing may never befall.

If ever she came, this surely a miracle might one call!”

But the valiant knights made answer: “Perchance may she do that same

For the sake of thy great dominions, for the sake of thy glorious name.

In any wise might one seek her to be thy noble queen.

She is worthy, O King, thy wooing; never lovelier woman was seen.”

And the noble King made answer: “Unto whom of you all be known

The people that dwell in Rhineland, and the realm their princes own?”

Answered the Lord of Bechlaren, the knightly Rüdiger:

“Known be its princely rulers unto me from my birth-tide year.

Lo, these be Gunther and Gernot, valiant knights and true,

And of these is Giselher youngest, and ever the Princes do

What sorteth wholly with honour and chivalry high-souled:

Yea, they walk in the steps of their fathers, the stainless heroes of old.”

Answered and spake King Etzel: “Friend, unto me declare

If indeed it well beseemeth that the crown at my side she wear.

If indeed she hath such beauty as flieth on rumour’s wing,

Mine high-born kinsmen shall never repent their counselling.”

“She is such as was once my Lady: in beauty is she no less

Than thy Queen the noble Helka; she is peerless in loveliness

Through all the wide world’s compass, a bride for a king to wed.

Who winneth her love, of a surety may his heart be comforted.”

Said the King: “By my love I charge thee, Rüdiger, win me this bride;

And if ever to me fair Kriemhild shall be joined at the marriage-tide,

To the uttermost of my power shalt thou have guerdon of me;

And thou shalt have fulfilled my pleasure in faith and in fealty.

I will bid my treasure-keepers freely to give unto thee

Horses and goodly raiment, whatsoever thy need shall be,

That thou and thy journeying-fellows in joyance ever may live.

Yea, as a great king giveth, for thine ambassage so will I give.”

Answered the Lord of the Marches, the mighty Rüdiger:

“If I sought of thee aught of thy bounty, not for mine honour it were:

Blithe will I go unto Rhineland at my good Lord’s command,

Of mine own wealth full-furnished: I received it all of thine hand.”

Made answer the great King Etzel: “When think ye forth to fare

To the wooing of the winsome? God take you into his care,

And crown with honour mine envoys unto her, my wife that shall be,

Let fortune but aid us, and Kriemhild incline to us graciously.”

And Rüdiger made answer: “Ere we ride from thy land away,

We must needs provide us with armour and royal-rich array,

To stand in the presence of princes with honour worthy of thee.

I think to lead into Rhineland five hundred knights with me;

So when in the realm Burgundian men look on me and mine,

With one voice all the people shall cry in the land of Rhine:

‘Never so far from his kingdom was such a goodly band

Sent forth by a king, as Etzel hath sent to Burgundia-land!’

Know thou, O King most mighty,—let the thing not give thee pause—

The wife of the chiefest hero on earth, of Siegfried, she was,

Of Siegmund’s son: that champion aforetime here didst thou see.

Right worship-worthy might all men account him verily.”

Answered and spake King Etzel: “If she was his worthy mate,

That noble prince’s glory is so exceeding great

That wholly it were for mine honour to call her my queen, I trow.

So great is the fame of her beauty that mine heart goeth out to her now.”

Answered the Lord of the Marches: “This then remaineth to say—

Hence will we take our departing on the four-and-twentieth day.

Unto Gotlind the well-belovèd, my wife, will I send the word

That I for the wooing of Kriemhild am on ambassage sent of my Lord.”

To his wife at Bechlaren tidings sent that knightly thane.

Joyful at once and sorry was that high-born chatelaine

That her lord should be sent forth seeking another bride for his King;

For unto the dear dead Helka did the love of her heart still cling.

So when the messengers’ tidings to the Margravine were told,

Unwelcome it came in a measure, and the Lady was sorrowful-souled;

For she feared she should see no mistress like her of the days of yore.

Ever she thought on Helka, and her heart within her was sore.

Seven days had passed, and the Margrave rode from the land of the Hun.

Greatly rejoiced King Etzel that his hest so swiftly was done.

In the city Vienna already was prepared their festal array,

And from setting forth on his journey would the knight no longer delay.

Gotlind his wife in Bechlaren for his coming eagerly stayed;

And the Margravine, Rüdiger’s daughter, a young and winsome maid,

Was fain to behold her father and them of his vassal-throng.

Sooth, that was a loving waiting of ladies fair and young.

Ere Rüdiger the noble forth of Vienna’s gate

Rode to Bechlaren, ready for him did all things wait

On the sumpter-beasts full laden, the raiment and warrior-gear.

So strongly guarded they journeyed, no spoiler dared draw near.

So when they were come to Bechlaren, and had passed through the gates thereof,

For all his warrior-fellows that knightly host of his love

Bade lodging fair be provided, and all was done as he willed.

And the Lady Gotlind hailed him with eyes with gladness filled,

Even she and her dear-loved daughter, the fair young Margravine.

No sweeter sight than the coming of her father had she seen.

When came out of Hunland the heroes, she saw them joyful-eyed,

And with smiling lips of greeting the high-born maiden cried:

“Welcome be now my father, and ye his vassal-train!”

Thereat to their lord’s young daughter many a gallant thane

In knightly courtesy bent him, and rendered thank unto her.

Well knew the Lady Gotlind the mind of Rüdiger;

For when in the hush of the night-tide by Rüdiger’s side she lay,

With loving speech she questioned, and the Margravine bade him say

Whither away from Hunland by his lord the King he was sent.

“Gotlind my wife,” he answered, “I will tell to thee all his intent:

This charge my lord hath given, that I woo him another bride,

Inasmuch as Helka the lovely, the wife of his youth, hath died.

Therefore to win for him Kriemhild now to the Rhine ride I;

And she, if she will, mid the Hunfolk shall be throned in empery.”

“God grant it may fall,” said Gotlind, “according to this thy word!

A tale of such glory and honour of that lady have we heard,

She might comfort our hearts for Helka whom we lost in the days bygone:

We might well mid the Hunfolk gladly behold her set on the throne.”

Answered the Lord of the Marches: “Heart’s dearest, lady mine,

These friends that with me be riding from this land on to the Rhine—

I would have thee with hand all-bounteous on these of thy wealth bestow;

For when heroes be rich-appointed, with hearts uplifted they go.”

“No man of them all,” she answered, “so he at my request

Take all that I freely offer, but shall have what suiteth him best,

Ere thou from Bechlaren departest with all thy vassal-train.”

Answered the Lord of the Marches, “Of thy bounty am I full fain.”

O me, what costly loom-work from her treasures forth she bare!

Thereof had the noble warriors raiment enough and to spare.

With diligence did she array them wholly, from neck to spur.

What vesture soever pleased him was chosen of Rüdiger.

On the seventh morning thereafter rode from Bechlaren away

That host with his train of warriors: weapons of war had they

And store of costly raiment, through Bavaria-land as they pressed.

Such steel-clad strong wayfarers no spoiler dared molest.

So then on the twelfth day’s morning to the land of Rhine they came.

Swiftly the tale of their coming flew on the wings of fame.

Full soon to the King and his kinsmen did the city-warders show

That guests were come from a far land. And now would Gunther know—

“Doth any man know yon strangers? If it be so, let him declare.”

Men looked on the sumpter-horses, and the heavy loads they bare;

How rich were the alien heroes might all discern thereby:

Then all through the wide-wayed city they lodged them royally.

So soon as men saw these strangers through the streets of the city ride,

They gazed on the long procession with wonder eager-eyed,

Sore marvelling whence these barons to the land of the Rhine had come.

“Know’st thou,” the King asked Hagen, “who these shall be, and wherefrom?”

Answered the Lord of Troneg: “Not yet have I looked on them well.

So soon as mine eyes have marked them, doubt not but I shall tell

From what far country hither hath ridden their knightly array.

They must needs be far-off dwellers if I know them not straightway.”

So when into many a hostel those guests of a king were brought,

King Etzel’s herald arrayed him in vesture richly wrought,

Even he and all his fellows, and they rode to the palace thus;

And the fashion of their raiment was exceeding glorious.

Then spake the valiant Hagen: “As I call up things long past,—

For in sooth many days have fleeted since I saw yon baron last,—

Such are they in semblance, methinketh, as Rüdiger now might be,

Out of the land of the Hunfolk, in port and in valiancy.”

“Meseems it is past believing,” the King made answer again,

“That unto this far country should journey Bechlaren’s thane!”

Yet scarce had the word of misgiving from the lips of Gunther flown,

Than by Hagen of a surety was the knightly Rüdiger known.

Then Troneg’s lord and his kinsmen to meet that stranger stept,

As valiant thanes five hundred down from the saddle leapt.

Courteous greeting and loving those Hunland envoys had.

Sooth, never a great king’s heralds had come so royally clad.

Then Hagen of Troneg lifted his voice, and he cried aloud:

“Now unto us be welcome these gallant thanes and proud!

Welcome the Lord of Bechlaren and all his valiant ones!”

Yea, hailed with abundant honour in truth were the warrior Huns.

King Gunther’s nearest kinsmen with welcoming hands drew nigh,

And to Rüdiger did Ortwein, fair Metz’s warder, cry:

“No guests so passing welcome to our hearts for many a day

Have we looked upon in Rhineland: sheer truth is that I say.”

Then one and all for his greeting they thanked that princely thane;

And into the Hall of the Presence paced Rüdiger and his train.

There they beheld King Gunther begirt with barons bold;

And he rose from his throne to greet them, like a great king courteous-souled.

With welcome how royal-courteous those heralds did he meet!

How eagerly did Gunther and Gernot his brother greet

That stately guest and his good knights! Worthy thereof they were.

Then by the hand did Gunther the King lead Rüdiger:

He brought him unto the high-seat whence himself had risen but now;

And he bade pour out for his guest-friends—and with joy they obeyed, I trow—

The sparkling mead of welcome, and the choicest of all wine

That man might find by searching in the lands that fringe the Rhine.

Came Giselher and Gere to bid the guests all-hail;

Dankwart withal and Volker, for these too heard the tale

Of the strangers worship-worthy. Blithe were they all of mood

As they greeted in Gunther’s presence that noble knight and good.

And now to his liege-lord Gunther did Hagen of Troneg say:

“With loving service ever should these thine earls repay

The kindness the Lord of the Marches showed unto us of old.

Now let the husband of Gotlind be requited manifold.”

Then spake King Gunther: “From asking will I no more delay:—

How fare thy Lord and thy Lady tell unto me straightway,

Etzel and Queen Helka, which rule the Hunfolk’s land.”

Answered the Margrave: “Gladly will I do my Lord’s command.”

Then rose he up from the high-seat; uprose his vassals all;

And he answered and spake unto Gunther: “If this indeed may befall

That thou givest me, King, free licence, without more tarrying

With willing lips will I utter the message that I bring.”

And the King said: “Whatsoever the charge of thy message be,

With friends do I take not counsel ere I grant thee liberty

To speak out all thy message unto me and my friends, O guest.

All honour shall be accorded thy petition and thy request.”

Spake that true-hearted herald: “Unto you by Rhine which dwell

In all manner of loyal service my King commendeth him well

And to all thy friends and kinsmen, the vassals of thy throne.

In faithfulness utter-loyal is this my message done.

The noble King requesteth that ye mourn his hapless lot;

For his people be sitting joyless: our Lady and Queen is not.

The wife of my good Lord, Helka the mighty, low is laid,

Whereby are young lives orphaned, even many a tender maid,

Children of noble princes, whom she fostered in bower and hall,

Whereby the whole land sitteth dark-shrouded in sorrow’s pall;

For now, ah me, have they no one whose love shall bless them and ward.

Long shall it be ere assuaging come to the grief of my Lord!”

“God guerdon him,” said Gunther, “that so graciously he commends

His loving and courteous service unto me and these my friends!

Gladly I hearken the greeting borne this day unto me,

And willing service I tender from me and mine by thee.”

Outspake a Prince Burgundian, and the good knight Gernot said:

“Well may the world sit mourning that Helka the fair is dead;

For in her did princely virtues and the law of kindness reign.”

“This witness is true: I have seen it,” said Hagen the high-born thane.

But again that noble herald, Lord Rüdiger, spake on:

“Lord King, now suffer me further: mine errand not yet is done.

I would utter the word of my dear Lord, the which by my mouth he saith.

He liveth in sorrow exceeding since the Lady Helka’s death.

They have told my Lord that Kriemhild sitteth a widow alone,

Now that Siegfried is dead. If it be so, if the truth unto him hath been shown,

Then if thou, O King, accord it, beneath the crown shall she stand

Before the knights of Etzel. I have spoken my Lord’s command.”

Answered and spake King Gunther of his princely-courteous mind:

“She shall hear my will in the matter, if her heart be so inclined.

Thereof will I certify you in three days from this day.

Or ever I prove her heart’s wish, why should I say thee nay?”

Thereafter they gave fair lodging unto all their guests straightway.

So kindly were they entreated that Rüdiger needs must say

That amid King Gunther’s liegemen good friends had he found enow.

Glad service did Hagen render for his kindness of long ago.

There did the Lord of Bechlaren till the third day’s dawning abide;

And the King dealt prudently, calling his counsellors to his side;

And he asked of his friends and his kinsmen if good in their sight this thing

Seemed, that his sister Kriemhild should wed with Etzel the King.

“Yea, good in our eyes it seemeth,” said they with one accord

Save Hagen alone: unto Gunther he spake, that valiant lord:

“If thou be wise and prudent, hereof take thou good heed,

That, be she never so willing, thou never consent to the deed.”

“Wherefore,” made answer Gunther, “should I his wooing withstand?

What kindness soever or blessing the Queen may have of mine hand,

That will I grant her gladly. Sister she is unto me.

Yea, ourselves might seek such alliance, if such for her honour be.”

But again made answer Hagen: “Nay, put this counsel by!

Did ye but know this Etzel and his might so well as I—

If thou, as thou saidst in mine hearing, unto hers add thy consent,

Above all men thou most surely shalt have chief cause to repent.”

“Wherefore?” said Gunther. “Lightly may I ward me against this,

To come so nigh to his presence that through any malice of his

Hurt I should be or imperilled, although she be wedded to him.”

“Never will I approve it!” made answer Hagen the grim.

Then the King bade summon Gernot to his presence and Giselher,

And he asked of these two princes if good in their eyes it were

That the Lady Kriemhild be wedded to the mighty Lord of the Hun:

And of these, save Hagen only, there spake against it none.

Then answered the Prince Burgundian, Giselher the knight:

“Now surely shouldst thou, friend Hagen, deal by her according to right.

Make good unto her that sorrow thou hast brought upon her ere now.

Whatsoever shall be for her profit, ungrudging suffer thou.

Yea, thou hast brought on my sister such passing bitter pain”—

So Giselher, peerless hero, unto Hagen spake again—

“That, how stern soe’er were her hatred, thy due hast thou but received.

Never by man hath woman of joy been so bereaved!”

“O yea, full well I know it: who knows it, nought care I!

But, if she take this Etzel, and see her hour draw nigh

Wherein she may compass her vengeance, she will do us what hurt she can:

And verily then in her service shall be many a mighty man!”

Made answer Gernot the dauntless, and unto Hagen he said:

“Nay then, long time may we tarry, yea, till these twain be dead,

Ere unto the land of Etzel the Hun-king journey we.

Let us deal with my sister truly: for our honour this shall be.”

Thereto made answer Hagen: “I say—gainsay it who dare—

If once the high-born Kriemhild the crown of Helka wear,

Whatsoever she may of mischief, that unto us will she do.

Ye knights, let be, I counsel: better shall this be for you.”

Then Giselher spake in his anger, the fair Queen Uta’s son:

“We be not in any wise minded to be traitors every one!

Whatsoe’er may befall her of honour, let us be glad thereof.

Whatsoever thou sayest, Hagen, I serve her in faith and love.”

When Hagen heard that saying, he was wroth and bitter of mood.

But Giselher and Gernot, the haughty knights and good,

And the King, the mighty Gunther—in one mind stood these three:

If this should be Kriemhild’s pleasure, they would grant it ungrudgingly.

Spake Gere, Lord of the Marches: “This word unto her will I bring

That none shall let her from yielding her love unto Etzel the King

Unto whom in fear and in homage many a good knight bends.

For all her past wrongs suffered unto her may he make amends.”

Then into the presence of Kriemhild passed that gallant knight.

She gave to him gracious welcome, and he spake the word forthright:

“Well mayst thou blithely greet me, and give me the messenger’s meed

For tidings of good fortune and days from sorrow freed!

One seeketh thy love, O Lady: lo, here his heralds be.

He is noble among the noblest that in honour and majesty

Have ruled over royal dominions, or a knightly crown have worn.

Proud knights be his suitors. This message from thy brother to thee have I borne.”

Then answered the sorrow-burdened: “Now God forbid that ye,

Even thou and all my kinsmen, should make a mockery

Of me in mine affliction! How should I shadow the life

Of a man that hath known the heart’s love of a true and faithful wife?”

Earnestly she gainsaid it. Then came in twain unto her,

Gernot the knight her brother, and the young prince Giselher;

And lovingly did they pray her to be comforted from her woe,

And to take the King to her husband, for that this to her profit should grow.

Yet howsoever they pleaded, was none could turn aside

The heart of that Queen of Sorrow to be another’s bride.

So they ceased, but they prayed her, “Suffer in any wise this thing,

An thou wilt nought else, to look on the herald of Etzel the King.”

“Yea,” answered the noble Lady, “this thing will I not deny.

Upon Rüdiger the knightly, the flower of chivalry,

Will I look with heart ungrudging: had another the messenger been,

Yea, any save this man only, my face should he ne’er have seen.”

And she said: “Unto this my bower let the friend of the King draw near

At morning-tide to-morrow; mine answer then shall he hear:

Yea all that mine heart hath determined with mine own lips will I tell.”

Then she turned her again to her mourning, and the tears of her sorrow fell.

Now Rüdiger the noble desired none other grace

So much as this, to be suffered to see her face to face;

For he knew the all-prevailing power of a wise man’s tongue;

And he thought, “If the thing may be compassed, the Queen shall consent ere long.”

At early morn scarce ended was holy prayer and song,

When the heralds drew near: around them pressed a mighty throng

To gaze on the knights to the palace which rode with Rüdiger there:

In the splendour of their raiment right gallant thanes they were.

Kriemhild the while, the high-born, in sorrow-stricken mood

For Rüdiger sat waiting, that noble knight and good,

Not decked as a queen, but in raiment that served her day by day;

But clad were her bower-maidens in royal-rich array.

At his coming she rose, and to meet him to the bower-door she went,

And with gracious greeting welcomed the herald of Etzel sent.

With none save comrades eleven he came before the Queen,

And with worshipful honour was welcomed: never princelier envoys were seen.

They bade them unto the high-seats, even him and his knightly train.

The while in the presence of Kriemhild stood the margraves twain,

The noble knights and valiant, Eckwart and Gere withal.

But by reason of Kriemhild’s sorrow heavy of cheer were they all.

Sat in their Lady’s presence many a comely maid;

But never the flood of the weeping and mourning of Kriemhild was stayed.

Her raiment over her bosom was wet with the hot tears’ flow.

And the noble Lord of the Marches beheld, and grieved in her woe.

Then spake that courteous herald: “O Daughter of Kings, I pray

For myself and my fellow-farers which have come from far away,

That thou of thy grace wilt suffer that now in thy presence we stand

And utter to thee the message that we bring from our fatherland.”

“This grace do I freely accord thee,” the sad Queen made reply;

“Speak whatsoe’er thou desirest, for purposed now am I

Gladly to hear that message: good herald and true thou art.”

Yet all through the courteous bidding discerned the reluctant heart.

Then the Knight of Bechlaren, the Margrave Rüdiger, spake the word:

“Unto thee, O Lady, Etzel the mighty King my Lord

In love and in faith doth commend him; his greeting I bear to thy land;

And good knights many he sendeth, his suitors for thine hand.

He maketh thee faithful proffer of love that shall banish pain;

All constancy of affection from his true heart shalt thou gain,

Even such as had Helka, who nearest lay to his heart of old—

The heart that remembers her goodness in lone grief manifold.”

Then spake unto him Queen Kriemhild: “Lord Margrave Rüdiger,

If of mine heart’s affliction any man were ware,

He would counsel me never to hearken if another man should woo,

Who have lost the best and the dearest that ever woman knew.”

“Wherein is there comfort for sorrow,” answered the valiant thane,

“More than in love of a true heart? Whoso this treasure may gain,

And hath won whom his heart hath chosen, and filled the void thereof,

He proveth that for sorrow there is no salve like unto love.

And if thou to my noble master wilt yield thy love, and wed,

Twelve crowns of mighty kingdoms will he set upon thine head,

Yea, and of thirty princes my Lord shall give thee the lands;