Within seven years thereafter Hettel, in stormy fight

Within seven years thereafter Hettel, in stormy fight, Thrice to his foes gave battle. They who, day and night, To wrong his name and honor did their utmost gladly, Now by the knightly Hettel found themselves brought low and chastened sadly.

His castles he did strengthen, and peace he gave to his land, As well a king befitteth: such were the deeds of his hand, That never in any kingdom, when his name was spoken, Was it said he was faint-hearted. The praise of all did well his worth betoken.

While, with name so worthy, Hettel held the throne, Wâ-te, the man of wisdom, never left undone His duty to his master, to see him three times yearly; Truly he was faithful, far and near, to the lord he held so dearly.

Horant, the lord from Denmark, to court not seldom rode; Costly gems and clothing on the maids he there bestowed, With gold and silken raiment, meet for women’s wearing: He from Daneland brought them, and to all who wished was he of gifts unsparing.

The service true and steady that the liegemen of the king Gave to the lordly Hettel honor to him did bring. Praised was he for knighthood more than any other: This Hilda also furthered, a queen herself, and child of a queenly mother.

Hilda, Hagen’s daughter, children two did bear Unto her lord, King Hettel: to bring them up with care His faithful friends were bidden. Soon among his vassals Were the tidings bruited that an heir no more was lacking for his lands and castles.

One became a warrior, Ortwin was his name; To Wâ-te he was trusted. It was the teacher’s aim That he from early boyhood should his thoughts be turning To all things good and worthy; to be a trusty knight he thus was learning.

The very comely daughter of Hilda and the king Was called Gu-drun the lovely: from the land of the Hegeling To Denmark she was carried, to be in her kinsmen’s wardship. Thus they helped King Hettel, and this they never felt to be a hardship.

When the maid grew older, her shape became so fair That neither man nor woman to praise her could forbear: Far from the maiden’s birthplace, all her worth were telling. Gu-drun her kinsfolk called her, in the Danish land where now she had her dwelling.

That age she now was reaching when, had she been a man, A sword she might have wielded. Many a prince was fain To wed the lovely maiden, and sought her love and favor; But many came a-wooing who soon their hopes must lose, and win her never.

However fair was Hilda, Hettel’s lovely wife, Yet was Gu-drun more lovely, and fair beyond belief; More fair than the early Hilda, erst to Ireland carried. Above all other women Gu-drun was praised, ere yet the maid was married.

Her father scorned to give her to the king of Alzabé; When he heard he could not win her to him ’twas a sorry day. He held himself most highly for all his kingly graces, And thought there could be no one whose deeds, like his, were worthy of men’s praises.

Both brave he was and daring, and from the Moorland came: He was known afar and widely, Siegfried was his name; A king was he full mighty over vassals seven. He sued for Hilda’s daughter, such tales of her lofty worth to him were given.

He, with his faithful liegemen from far Icaria’s strand, Won many costly prizes there in Hettel’s land: His strong and doughty warriors, in sight of ladies seated Before King Hettel’s castle, in games of knighthood often there were mated.

When Hilda and her daughter passed the hall within, Before the house of Wigaleis there rose a mighty din From warriors of the Moorland, who, all boldly dashing, Rode in the sight of the women; oft of spears and shields was heard the clashing.

Never could knight in tilting better in this behave. A friendly will she bore him, and oft kind words she gave, Though he was brown to look on, and in hue was dusky even. He for her love was yearning, yet for a wife she ne’er to him was given.

This pained him beyond measure, and truly he was wroth That he from far had ridden, yet gave she not her troth. To burn the land of Hettel then did he threaten madly: His followers from Moorland, when now his hopes were lost, were mourning sadly.

From him was the maid withholden by Hettel’s lofty pride; And now their loving friendship was ended on either side. Then swore the Moor that never he his hate would slacken, And that the grudge he bore him, whate’er befell, should never be forsaken.

Then from the land of the Hegeling rode they all away. When many years were ended, there came at last a day When by a knight most worthy was bitter sorrow tasted; Then the foes of Herwic did him the worst they could, nor in it rested.