How the Burgundians Fought with the Huns, I–XXXV

Soon as the fearless warrior beneath the lintel hied, He bade the men of Etzel keep distance yet more wide. The blood from that fierce combat down all his armor pour'd, And in his hand uplifted he held his naked sword.

Just at the very moment that in burst Dankwart so, It chanc'd the young Prince Ortlieb was carried to and fro From table unto table; the news of that fell strife, So sudden brought among them, cost the fair child his life.

To a good knight then Dankwart shouted loud and strong, "Be stirring, brother Hagan, you're sitting all too long. To you and God in heaven our deadly strait I plain; Yeomen and knights together lie in their quarters slain."

"Tell me who has done it?" Hagan fiercely cried. "Sir Blœdel and his meiny," Dankwart straight replied, "And paid too has he dearly; he's dead among the dead; This hand from off his shoulders smote at a stroke his head."

"Small is the loss," said Hagan, "whenever one can tell That a vanquish'd hero by hands heroic fell. Thus it still befitteth a knight to yield his breath; So much the less fair ladies should sorrow for his death.

"Now tell me, brother Dankwart, why are you so red? Your wounds, methinks, oppress you; they must have sorely bled. If he's yet in this country who has harm'd you thus in strife, But the foul fiend aid him, it shall cost his life."

"You see me whole and hearty; my weed with blood is wet, But 'tis from wounds of others whom sword to sword I met, Of whom I slew so many, though furious all and fell, That, if I had to swear it, th' amount I ne'er could tell."

Said th' other, "Brother Dankwart, keep guard upon the door; Let not one Hungarian step the threshold o'er. Straight, as need impels us, converse with them will I. Our friends by their devices were guiltless done to die."

"Since I'm to be door-keeper," replied the champion true "(And well to such great monarchs such service I can do), As fits me, 'gainst all comers the staircase I'll maintain." Naught could be more distasteful to Kriemhild's knightly train.

"In sooth," resum'd Sir Hagan, "I can't but wonder here, What now these Huns are whisp'ring each in his fellow's ear. I ween, they well could spare him, who keeps the door so bold, Him, who to us Burgundians his courtly tale has told.

"Long have I heard and often of moody Kriemhild tell, That still her heart's deep sorrow she harbors fierce and fell; Now then let's drink to friendship! king's wine shall quench our thirst, And the young Prince of Hungary himself shall pledge us first."

With that the good Knight Hagan smote Ortlieb the young child; The gushing blood, down flowing, both sword and hand defil'd; Into the lap of Kriemhild bounded the ghastly head. At once among the warriors a fearful butchery spread.

Then with both hands uplifted he dealt a stroke at large 'Gainst the grave-visag'd tutor, who had the child in charge; His sever'd head down falling, before the table lay. For all his learned lessons t' faith 'twas sorry pay.

Just then at Etzel's table a minstrel met his view; Upon him in an instant in wrath Sir Hagan flew. His right hand on his viol off lopp'd he suddenly; "Take that for the kind message thou brought'st to Burgundy."

"Alas! my hands!" cried Werbel frantic with pain and woe, "What have I done, Sir Hagan, that you should serve me so? I came in faith and honor into your master's land. How can I now make music since I have lost my hand?"

Little reck'd Sir Hagan if ne'er he fiddled more; Then round his death-strokes dealing he stretch'd upon the floor Many a good knight of Etzel's, and wide the slaughter spread, Turning to bale the banquet, and heap'd the hall with dead.

Up the ready Folker leapt from table quick; In his hand loud clatter'd his deadly fiddlestick. Harsh crashing notes discordant King Gunther's minstrel play'd. Ah! what a host of foemen among the Huns he made!

Up, too, leapt from table the royal brethren three; They thought to part the battle ere mischief more should be. But lost was all their labor, vain was all help of man; When Folker and stern Hagan once so to rage began.

When saw the Lord of Rhineland no power could stint the strife, He too dealt dole about him with wounds that let out life, Through the shining hauberks cutting deadly way. A prowest knight was Gunther, as clear he show'd that day.

At once into the battle the sturdy Gernot flew; Thick as they flock'd around him the clustering Huns he slew With his sword, the gift of Rudeger, the which he wielded so, That many a knight of Etzel's he laid for ever low.

The third too of the brethren rush'd into the fray; Through th' helms of Etzel's warriors his swords made bloody way; Death follow'd every buffet; right wondrous deeds were done That hour by youthful Giselher, Dame Uta's youngest son.

Well fought that day the brethren, well too their men of might, But ever valiant Folker stood foremost in the fight, Against his foes so knightly himself the warrior bore. Many brought he among them to wallow in their gore.

On their defence, too, stoutly stood Etzel's champions all. Then might you see the strangers through the kingly hall With their glittering broadswords slashing and hewing go. Loud thrill'd throughout the palace wild screams of wail and woe.

Then those without in hurried to aid their friends within, But found upon the staircase more was to lose than win; Out fain would rush the others, and through the doorway fare. To none gave Dankwart passage, nor up nor down the stair.

To force the guarded portal throng'd the Huns amain. With the clattering sword-strokes the morions rang again. Then stood the valiant Dankwart in deadly peril there; Of that his loving brother took heed with timely care.

Straight to dauntless Folker, Hagan shouted loud, "See you there my brother beset by yonder crowd, Batter'd by blades unnumber'd, by countless bucklers cross'd? Up, and save him, comrade! or the good knight is lost."

"Fear not," replied the minstrel, "I'll do your bidding soon." Straight strode he through the palace playing his harshest tune. Oft clash'd the keen-edg'd broadsword that in his hand he bore. The noble chiefs of Rhineland thank'd him o'er and o'er.

Then to the fearless Dankwart the minstrel-knight 'gan say, "You must have surely suffered sore press and toil to-day. Sent hither by your brother to aid you I have been. If you'll without be warder, I'll keep the door within."

Firm the nimble Dankwart stood outside the door; All who the stairs were mounting down drove he evermore; In the grasp of the warriors their swords clash'd fearfully. The like within did stoutly Folker of Burgundy.

Loud the valiant minstrel shouted o'er the throng, "The hall is shut, friend Hagan! the locks are firm and strong. The hands of two stout warriors King Etzel's door secure; A thousand bolts, believe me, would not be half so sure."

When Hagan saw the portal secur'd against attack, By the thong his buckler the fiery chief threw back, And whirl'd his sword for vengeance with huge two-handed sway; No hope had then his foemen with life to come away.

When good Sir Dietrich noted how with each swashing stroke The furious Lord of Trony a Hunnish morion broke, On to a bench straight leapt he, to see the knights of Rhine. Said he, "Sure Hagan's serving the very worst of wine."

The host was sore bewilder'd with horror and surprise; What crowds of friends and subjects were slain before his eyes! Scarce 'midst the bloody turmoil himself from danger free, He sat in mortal anguish; what boot was his a king to be?

Proud Kriemhild cried to Dietrich in ghastly drear affright, "Help me with thy valor, good and noble knight By the worth of all the princes of th' Amelungers' land. If Hagan only reach me, Death have I close at hand."

"Fair queen," replied Sir Dietrich, "how can I help you here? Or how protect another when for myself I fear? So wroth are these Burgundians, so high their passions run, That I in such a moment can promise peace to none."