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

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."