How the Treasure of the Nibelungers Was Brought to Worms, XXXVI–LIV

Then spake the young Sir Giselher, "Hagan the fierce and rude Hath foully wrong'd my sister; this I should have withstood; But that he is my kinsman, it should cost his life." Then afresh all vainly wept noble Siegfried's wife.

Then said the good Sir Gernot, "Ere this pernicious mine Confound us any further, better beneath the Rhine Sink it altogether, and tell no mortal where." Then sadly went fair Kriemhild to her brother Giselher.

She wept and said, "Dear brother, pray take some thought of me; Of my person and possessions thou should'st the guardian be." Then spake he to his sister, "I will, whate'er betide, Soon as we come back hither, for now we hence must ride."

King Gunther and his kinsmen they forthwith left the land. The very best among them he took to form his band. There stay'd behind but Hagan; fierce hate and malice still He bore the weeping Kriemhild, and sought to work her ill.

Ere back the king came thither, impatient of delay Hagan seiz'd the treasure, and bore it thence away. Into the Rhine at Lochheim the whole at once threw he! Henceforth he thought t' enjoy it, but that was ne'er to be.

He never more could get it for all his vain desire; So fortune of the traitor cheats of his treason's hire. Alone he hop'd to use it as long as he should live, But neither himself could profit, nor to another give.

Once more return'd the princess, and with them all their train. Forthwith began sad Kriemhild her heavy loss to plain With ladies and with maidens; their grief indeed was strong. In all good faith was Giselher ready to venge her wrong.

Then said they altogether, "Much evil hath he done." So for a time Sir Hagan retir'd their wrath to shun, Till he regain'd their favor; at last they look'd it o'er. Thereat to him fair Kriemhild yet deadlier hatred bore.

Ere thus the Knight of Trony had hidd'n the wondrous hoard, They all an oath together had sworn with one accord To keep it in concealment while one of them should live, So none himself could take it, nor to another give.

With this new weight of anguish surcharg'd was Kriemhild left, Of her bold husband widow'd, and of the hoard bereft By such o'erweening outrage; in tears the mourner lay, Nor ever ceas'd to sorrow e'en till her dying day.

From the death of Siegfried for thirteen years she dwelt On her wrongs ever brooding, nor joy one moment felt. The murder of her husband she could not once forget. To him she still was faithful; that praise is Kriemhild's yet.

The wealthy Lady Uta, when death took Dankrat hence, A sumptuous monastery rais'd at her own expense, Endowed with rich revenues, which yet its coffers fill; The abbey of Lorsch they call it; 'tis high in honor still.

Thereto the mourning Kriemhild no little part supplied Both for the soul of Siegfried and for all souls beside. She gave both gold and jewels; a wife more chaste and true, And a more liberal giver man surely never knew.

Since Kriemhild had King Gunther once to her grace restor'd, And yet by his connivance next lost the precious hoard, A thousand-fold more sorrow at her heart there lay. The proud and high-born lady would gladly thence away.

Meanwhile for Lady Uta was built with skill and care At Lorsch, fast by her abbey, a sumptuous palace fair. The widow left her children, and there seclusion found. Still lies she in her coffin deep in that hollow'd ground.

Then said the queen to Kriemhild, "List to me, daughter dear, Come to Lorsch, to my palace, thou canst not linger here; And dwell with me thy mother, and cease to weep and grieve." "To whom then," answer'd Kriemhild, "Shall I my husband leave?"

The Lady Uta answer'd, "Here let him still abide." "Now God in heaven forbid it!" the faithful wife replied; "No! my beloved mother, I must not have it so; If Kriemhild hence must journey, with her must Siegfried go."

Then gave command the mourner up to take the dead; His noble bones were forthwith transferred to their last bed At Lorsch beside the minster in many-honor'd guise. There yet in a long coffin the stately warrior lies.

Just then, when sorrowing Kriemhild was ready to depart, And hop'd with her fond mother to ease her aching heart, She yet was forc'd to tarry and that last hope resign. 'Twas caus'd by sudden tidings, that cross'd from far the Rhine.