Then heard they the bells as aforetime peal from the…

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.