Of his giant strength the Margrave gave tokens all too true

Of his giant strength the Margrave gave tokens all too true: Dreadless and mighty-weaponed, how many a foe he slew! That saw a Prince Burgundian, and his grief and wrath 'gan swell:— Then, then death's imminent shadow o'er the noble Rüdiger fell:— It was Gernot the strong; to the hero he shouted across the hall, To the Margrave crying: "So many of my people before thee fall, Thou wilt leave, O Rüdiger, living no man of my vassal-train! I am stung into wrath above measure; from vengeance no more I refrain! Now shall the gift thou gavest be turned into scathe for thee, Since thou of my nearest and dearest hast reft so many from me. Hitherward turn thee, face me, thou noble and dreadless man! For thy gift will I give full payment, the uttermost that I can."

Ere, cleaving the war-waves, the Margrave might win unto where he stood, Bright rings of many a hauberk were crimson-sullied with blood; But at last those glory-cravers in the deadly grapple clashed; And they smote, and the death swift-leaping with the buckler aside they dashed. Yet nought might withstand the keenness of their swords all-sundering; And Rüdiger the Hero smote mightily Gernot the King, Smote through the flint-hard helmet, that the blood rushed down the blade: But swiftly the good knight dreadless that deadly stroke repaid. In his hand was the gift of the Margrave; he swung on high that steel: Though unto death he was wounded, yet one grim stroke did he deal: It crashed through the hard-knit buckler, it shore through the helmet-band— Alas, the doom went with it of the lord of the open hand!

Ah me! such rich gifts never so ill requited were. Down fell they dead together, Gernot and Rüdiger. In the war-storm each by other smitten on one doom came; And Hagen saw, and his anger burst into sudden flame,

And shouted the Hero of Troneg: "Evil hath come upon us! Such grievous hurt have we suffered by these who have perished thus, That for two lands and two peoples nor amends nor atonement there is. To the homeless shall Rüdiger's heroes now pay forfeit for this!"

(C) No mercy they showed thereafter, no foeman would they spare. Many a man down-beaten not sorely hurt fell there, Who might of his wounds have recovered, but overwhelmed by the flood Of war, 'neath the trampling of fighters he was drowned in a lake of blood. "Ah, woe is me for my brother," cried Giselher, "here laid low! Woe for the tale of sorrow that hour by hour doth grow! Yea, for my young bride's father for ever must I lament. The bitter scathe is twofold, and the grief that mine heart hath rent." Giselher looked on the father of his bride, where dead he lay; Then turned he from him to his vengeance on the last of the foes' array. Death stalked through the hall aye searching for the men of the Margrave slain, Till of all Bechlaren's vassals alive did none remain.

Thereafter Gunther and Hagen and Giselher the young, And Dankwart and Volker the minstrel, the knights of fame far-sung, Unto that place went together where those dead twain were found, And sorely wept and lamented those heroes song-renowned. "Evilly death hath robbed us!" cried the young Prince Giselher: "Yet now refrain your weeping: let us forth to the outer air; Let us cool these reeking hauberks, O battle-weary thanes. Unto us, I ween, God willeth that but little of life remains."

Sitting was one, one leaning against the stairway-wall; But again their hands were idle, for Rüdiger's liegemen all Lay dead within: the tumult of war had fallen asleep. Then Etzel's heart misgave him, so long was the hush and so deep. "Woe's me for this treacherous service!" in anger cried the Queen: "Too long be they holding parley! Our enemies therewithin

Are like to be wholly scatheless of our champion Rüdiger's hand! He is plotting to send them safely back to Burgundia-land! What boots it, O King Etzel, that on this man we have heaped All wealth he desired soever? A foul return have we reaped! He that was pledged to avenge us, a truce with our foes will he make!" Unto her made answer Volker, and the knightly minstrel spake: "Not so, alas, is the story, O Queen exalted high; And—dared I unto such high-born lady to give the lie— Thou dost lie in thy throat most foully of Rüdiger's trust betrayed. A sorry truce with the homeless he and his knights have made! With such good will he accomplished the hest of the King his lord, That he and all his liegemen be lying slain with the sword. Look round thee now, Queen Kriemhild, for another whom thou mayst send, For truly hath Rüdiger served thee unto the bitter end. If haply thou wilt not believe me, let thine eyes bear witness to thee." Then, to her heart's deep anguish, they gave proof plain to see; For they brought that mangled hero unto where of the King was he seen. Never the knights of Etzel knew grief so bitter-keen.

When they saw the corpse of the Margrave held forth in their sight, ah then Utterly it passeth the power of tongue or pen To tell of the wild lamentation that from women and men wailed high, The voice of a people's anguish, an exceeding bitter cry. So passing great was the sorrow of Etzel the mighty King, That, as when a wounded lion maketh the forest ring With his roar, so loud he lamented, and the Queen shrieked forth her pain. So wailed they in measureless dolour for noble Rüdiger slain.

XXXVIII. How Dietrich's Men were all slain