How Siegfried Was Slain, LXXI–XC

E'en to the death though wounded, he hurl'd it with such power, That the whirling buckler scatter'd wide a shower Of the most precious jewels, then straight in shivers broke. Full gladly had the warrior ta'en vengeance with that stroke.

E'en as it was, his manhood fierce Hagan level'd low. Loud, all around, the meadow rang with the wondrous blow. Had he in hand good Balmung, the murderer he had slain. His wound was sore upon him; he writh'd in mortal pain.

His lively color faded; a cloud came o'er his sight; He could stand no longer; melted all his might; In his paling visage the mark of death he bore. Soon many a lovely lady sorrow'd for him sore.

So the lord of Kriemhild among the flowerets fell. From the wound fresh gushing his heart's blood fast did well. Then thus amidst his tortures, e'en with his failing breath, The false friends he upbraided who had contriv'd his death.

Thus spake the deadly wounded, "Ay! cowards false as hell! To you I still was faithful; I serv'd you long and well;— But what boots all?—for guerdon treason and death I've won, By your friends vile traitors! foully have you done.

"Whoever shall hereafter from your loins be born, Shall take from such vile fathers a heritage of scorn. On me you have wreak'd malice where gratitude was due. With shame shall you be banish'd by all good knights and true."

Thither ran all the warriors where in his blood he lay. To many of that party sure 'twas a joyless day. Whoe'er were true and faithful, they sorrow'd for his fall. So much the peerless champion had merited of all.

With them the false King Gunther bewept his timeless end. Then spake the deadly wounded, "Little it boots your friend Yourself to plot his murder, and then the deed deplore. Such is a shameful sorrow; better at once 'twere o'er."

Then spake the low'ring Hagan, "I know not why you moan. Our cares all and suspicions are now for ever flown. Who now are left, against us who'll dare to make defence? Well's me, for all this weeping, that I have rid him hence."

"Small cause hast thou," said Siegfried, "to glory in my fate. Had I ween'd, thy friendship cloak'd such murderous hate, From such as thou full lightly could I have kept my life. Now grieve I but for Kriemhild, my dear, my widow'd wife.

"Now may God take pity, that e'er I had a son, Who this reproach must suffer from deed so foully done, That by his murderous kinsmen his father thus was slain. Had I but time to finish, of this I well might plain.

"Surely so base a murder the world did never see," Said he, and turn'd to Gunther, "as you have done on me. I sav'd your life and honor from shame and danger fell, And thus am I requited by you I serv'd so well."

Then further spake the dying, and speaking sigh'd full deep, "Oh king! if thou a promise with anyone wilt keep, Let me in this last moment thy grace and favor find For my dear love and lady, the wife I leave behind.

"Remember, she's thy sister, yield her a sister's right, Guard her with faith and honor, as thou'rt a king and knight. My father and my followers for me they long must wait, Comrade ne'er found from comrade so sorrowful a fate."

In his mortal anguish he writh'd him to and fro, And then said, deadly groaning, "This foul and murderous blow Deep will ye rue hereafter; this for sure truth retain, That in slaying Siegfried you yourselves have slain."

With blood were all bedabbled the flowerets of the field. Some time with death he struggled, as though he scorn'd to yield E'en to the foe, whose weapon strikes down the loftiest head. At last prone in the meadow lay mighty Siegfried dead.

When now the chiefs were certain that dead was the good knight, They laid him on a buckler with gold all richly dight, Then counsel took together the general to mislead, And keep the shameful secret that Hagan did the deed.

Then many said, repenting, "This deed will prove our bale; Still let us shroud the secret, and all keep in one tale, That the good lord of Kriemhild to hunt alone preferr'd, And so was slain by robbers as through the wood he spurr'd."

"I'll bring him home, and gladly," said Hagan, frowning stern; "As to his wife, I reck not whether the truth she learn, Who slander'd gentle Brunhild, and wrought her so much ill. I care not for her weeping, do she whate'er she will."

Of that same little runnel where Siegfried murder'd fell, The true and rightful story you now shall hear me tell. In th' Odenwald is a village, Odenheim is its name. There still the brook is running; doubt not it is the same.