1958	----	HERMANN AND DOROTHEA By Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Translated by Ellen Frothingham INTRODUCTORY NOTE There are few modern poems of any country so perfect in their kind as the "Hermann and Dorothea" of Goethe. In clearness of characterization, in unity of tone, in the adjustment of background and foreground, in the conduct of the narrative, it conforms admirably to the strict canons of art; yet it preserves a freshness and spontaneity in its emotional appeal that are rare in works of so classical a perfection in form. The basis of the poem is a historical incident. In the year 1731 the Archbishop of Salzburg drove out of his diocese a thousand Protestants, who took refuge in South Germany, and among whom was a girl who became the bride of the son of a rich burgher. The occasion of the girl's exile was changed by Goethe to more recent times, and in the poem she is represented as a German from the west bank of the Rhine fleeing from the turmoil caused by the French Revolution. The political element is not a mere background, but is woven into the plot with consummate skill, being used, at one point, for example, in the characterization of Dorothea, who before the time of her appearance in the poem has been deprived of her first betrothed by the guillotine; and, at another, in furnishing a telling contrast between the revolutionary uproar in France and the settled peace of the German village. The characters of the father and the minister Goethe took over from the original incident, the mother he invented, and the apothecary he made to stand for a group of friends. But all of these persons, as well as the two lovers, are recreated, and this so skillfully that while they are made notably familiar to us as individuals, they are no less significant as permanent types of human nature. The hexameter measure which he employed, and which is retained in the present translation, he handled with such charm that it has since seemed the natural verse for the domestic idyl--witness the obvious imitation of this, as of other features of the poem, in Longfellow's "Evangeline." Taken as a whole, with its beauty of form, its sentiment, tender yet restrained, and the compelling pathos of its story, "Hermann and Dorothea" appeals to a wider public than perhaps any other product of its author. HERMANN AND DOROTHEA CALLIOPE FATE AND SYMPATHY "Truly, I never have seen the market and street so deserted! How as if it were swept looks the town, or had perished! Not fifty Are there, methinks, of all our inhabitants in it remaining, What will not curiosity do! here is every one running, Hurrying to gaze on the sad procession of pitiful exiles. Fully a league it must be to the causeway they have to pass over, Yet all are hurrying down in the dusty heat of the noonday. I, in good sooth, would not stir from my place to witness the sorrows Borne by good, fugitive people, who now, with their rescued possessions, Driven, alas! from beyond the Rhine, their beautiful country, Over to us are coming, and through the prosperous corner Roam of this our luxuriant valley, and traverse its windings. Well hast thou done, good wife, our son in thus kindly dispatching, Laden with something to eat and to drink, and with store of old linen, 'Mongst the poor folk to distribute; for giving belongs to the wealthy. How the youth drives, to be sure! What control he has over the horses! Makes not our carriage a handsome appearance,--the new one? With comfort, Four could be seated within, with a place on the box for the coachman. This time, he drove by himself. How lightly it rolled round the corner!" Thus, as he sat at his ease in the porch of his house on the market, Unto his wife was speaking mine host of the Golden Lion. Thereupon answered and said the prudent, intelligent housewife: "Father, I am not inclined to be giving away my old linen: Since it serves many a purpose; and cannot be purchased for money, When we may want it. To-day, however, I gave, and with pleasure, Many a piece that was better, indeed, in shirts and in bed-clothes; For I was told of the aged and children who had to go naked. But wilt thou pardon me, father? thy wardrobe has also been plundered. And, in especial, the wrapper that has the East-Indian flowers, Made of the finest of chintz, and lined with delicate flannel, Gave I away: it was thin and old, and quite out of the fashion." Thereupon answered and said, with a smile, the excellent landlord: "Faith! I am sorry to lose it, my good old calico wrapper, Real East-Indian stuff: I never shall get such another. Well, I had given up wearing it: nowadays, custom compels us Always to go in surtout, and never appear but in jacket; Always to have on our boots; forbidden are night-cap and slippers." "See!" interrupted the wife; "even now some are yonder returning, Who have beheld the procession: it must, then, already be over. Look at the dust on their shoes! and see how their faces are glowing! Every one carries his kerchief, and with it is wiping the sweat off. Not for a sight like that would I run so far and so suffer, Through such a heat; in sooth, enough shall I have in the telling." Thereupon answered and said, with emphasis, thus, the good father: "Rarely does weather like this attend such a harvest as this is. We shall be bringing our grain in dry, as the hay was before it. Not the least cloud to be seen, so perfectly clear is the heaven; And, with delicious coolness, the wind blows in from the eastward. That is the weather to last! over-ripe are the cornfields already; We shall begin on the morrow to gather our copious harvest." Constantly, while he thus spoke, the crowds of men and of women Grew, who their homeward way were over the market-place wending; And, with the rest, there also returned, his daughters beside him, Back to his modernized house on the opposite side of the market, Foremost merchant of all the town, their opulent neighbor, Rapidly driving his open barouche,--it was builded in Landau. Lively now grew the streets, for the city was handsomely peopled. Many a trade was therein carried on, and large manufactures. Under their doorway thus the affectionate couple were sitting, Pleasing themselves with many remarks on the wandering people. Finally broke in, however, the worthy housewife, exclaiming: "Yonder our pastor, see! is hitherward coming, and with him Comes our neighbor the doctor, so they shall every thing tell us; All they have witnessed abroad, and which 'tis a sorrow to look on." Cordially then the two men drew nigh, and saluted the couple; Sat themselves down on the benches of wood that were placed in the doorway, Shaking the dust from their feet, and fanning themselves with their kerchiefs. Then was the doctor, as soon as exchanged were the mutual greetings, First to begin, and said, almost in a tone of vexation: "Such is mankind, forsooth! and one man is just like another, Liking to gape and to stare when ill-luck has befallen his neighbor. Every one hurries to look at the flames, as they soar in destruction; Runs to behold the poor culprit, to execution conducted: Now all are sallying forth to gaze on the need of these exiles, Nor is there one who considers that he, by a similar fortune, May, in the future, if not indeed next, be likewise o'ertaken. Levity not to be pardoned, I deem; yet it lies in man's nature." Thereupon answered and said the noble, intelligent pastor; Ornament he of the town, still young, in the prime of his manhood. He was acquainted with life,--with the needs of his hearers acquainted; Deeply imbued he was with the Holy Scriptures' importance, As they reveal man's destiny to us, and man's disposition; Thoroughly versed, besides, in best of secular writings. "I should be loath," he replied, "to censure an innocent instinct, Which to mankind by good mother Nature has always been given. What understanding and reason may sometimes fail to accomplish, Oft will such fortunate impulse, that bears us resistlessly with it. Did curiosity draw not man with its potent attraction, Say, would he ever have learned how harmoniously fitted together Worldly experiences are? For first what is novel he covets; Then with unwearying industry follows he after the useful; Finally longs for the good by which he is raised and ennobled. While he is young, such lightness of mind is a joyous companion, Traces of pain-giving evil effacing as soon as 'tis over. He is indeed to be praised, who, out of this gladness of temper, Has in his ripening years a sound understanding developed; Who, in good fortune or ill, with zeal and activity labors: Such an one bringeth to pass what is good, and repaireth the evil." Then broke familiarly in the housewife impatient, exclaiming: "Tell us of what ye have seen; for that I am longing to hear of!" "Hardly," with emphasis then the village doctor made answer, "Can I find spirits so soon after all the scenes I have witnessed. Oh, the manifold miseries! who shall be able to tell them? E'en before crossing the meadows, and while we were yet at a distance, Saw we the dust; but still from hill to hill the procession Passed away out of our sight, and we could distinguish but little, But when at last we were come to the street that crosses the valley, Great was the crowd and confusion of persons on foot and of wagons. There, alas! saw we enough of these poor unfortunates passing, And could from some of them learn how bitter the sorrowful flight was, Yet how joyful the feeling of life thus hastily rescued. Mournful it was to behold the most miscellaneous chattels,-- All those things which are housed in every well-furnished dwelling, All by the house-keeper's care set up in their suitable places, Always ready for use; for useful is each and important.-- Now these things to behold, piled up on all manner of wagons, One on the top of another, as hurriedly they had been rescued. Over the chest of drawers were the sieve and wool coverlet lying; Thrown in the kneading-trough lay the bed, and the sheets on the mirror. Danger, alas! as we learned ourselves in our great conflagration Twenty years since, will take from a man all power of reflection, So that he grasps things worthless and leaves what is precious behind him. Here, too, with unconsidering care they were carrying with them Pitiful trash, that only encumbered the horses and oxen; Such as old barrels and boards, the pen for the goose, and the bird-cage. Women and children, too, went toiling along with their bundles, "Panting 'neath baskets and tubs, full of things of no manner of value: So unwilling is man to relinquish his meanest possession. Thus on the dusty road the crowded procession moved forward, All confused and disordered. The one whose beasts were the weaker, Wanted more slowly to drive, while faster would hurry another. Presently went up a scream from the closely squeezed women and children, And with the yelping of dogs was mingled the lowing of cattle, Cries of distress from the aged and sick, who aloft on the wagon, Heavy and thus overpacked, upon beds were sitting and swaying. Pressed at last from the rut and out to the edge of the highway, Slipped the creaking wheel; the cart lost its balance, and over Fell in the ditch. In the swing the people were flung to a distance, Far off into the field, with horrible screams; by good fortune Later the boxes were thrown and fell more near to the wagon. Verily all who had witnessed the fall, expected to see them Crushed into pieces beneath the weight of trunks and of presses. So lay the cart all broken to fragments, and helpless the people. Keeping their onward way, the others drove hastily by them, Each thinking only of self, and carried away by the current. Then we ran to the spot, and found the sick and the aged,-- Those who at home and in bed could before their lingering ailments Scarcely endure,--lying bruised on the ground, complaining and groaning, Choked by the billowing dust, and scorched by the heat of the noonday." Thereupon answered and said the kind-hearted landlord, with feeling: "Would that our Hermann might meet them and give them refreshment and clothing! Loath should I be to behold them: the looking on suffering pains me. Touched by the earliest tidings of their so cruel afflictions, Hastily sent we a mite from out of our super-abundance, Only that some might be strengthened, and we might ourselves be made easy. But let us now no longer renew these sorrowful pictures Knowing how readily fear steals into the heart of us mortals, And anxiety, worse to me than the actual evil. Come with me into the room behind, our cool little parlor, Where no sunbeam e'er shines, and no sultry breath ever enters Through its thickness of wall. There mother will bring us a flagon Of our old eighty-three, with which we may banish our fancies. Here 'tis not cosey to drink: the flies so buzz round the glasses." Thither adjourned they then, and all rejoiced in the coolness. Carefully brought forth the mother the clear and glorious vintage, Cased in a well-polished flask, on a waiter of glittering pewter, Set round with large green glasses, the drinking cups meet for the Rhine Wine. So sat the three together about the highly waxed table, Gleaming and round and brown, that on mighty feet was supported, Joyously rang at once the glasses of landlord and pastor, But his motionless held the third, and sat lost in reflection, Until with words of good-humor the landlord challenged him, saying,-- "Come, sir neighbor, empty your glass, for God in his mercy Thus far has kept us from evil, and so in the future will keep us. For who acknowledges not, that since our dread conflagration, When he so hardly chastised us, he now is continually blessing, Constantly shielding, as man the apple of his eye watches over, Holding it precious and dear above all the rest of his members? Shall he in time to come not defend us and furnish us succor? Only when danger is nigh do we see how great is his power. Shall he this blooming town which he once by industrious burghers Built up afresh from its ashes, and afterwards blessed with abundance, Now demolish again, and bring all the labor to nothing?" Cheerfully said in reply the excellent pastor, and kindly: "Keep thyself firm in the faith, and firm abide in this temper; For it makes steadfast and wise when fortune is fair, and when evil, Furnishes sweet consolation and animates hopes the sublimest." Then made answer the landlord, with thoughts judicious and manly: "Often the Rhine's broad stream have I with astonishment greeted, As I have neared it again, after travelling abroad upon business. Always majestic it seemed, and my mind and spirit exalted. But I could never imagine its beautiful banks would so shortly Be to a rampart transformed, to keep from our borders the Frenchman, And its wide-spreading bed be a moat all passage to hinder. See! thus nature protects, the stout-hearted Germans protect us, And thus protects us the Lord, who then will he weakly despondent? Weary already the combatants, all indications are peaceful. Would it might be that when that festival, ardently longed for, Shall in our church be observed, when the sacred Te Deum is rising, Swelled by the pealing of organ and bells, and the blaring of trumpets,-- Would it might be that that day should behold my Hermann, sir pastor, Standing, his choice now made, with his bride before thee at the altar, Making that festal day, that through every land shall be honored, My anniversary, too, henceforth of domestic rejoicing! But I observe with regret, that the youth so efficient and active Ever in household affairs, when abroad is timid and backward. Little enjoyment he finds in going about among others; Nay, he will even avoid young ladies' society wholly; Shuns the enlivening dance which all young persons delight in." Thus he spoke and listened; for now was heard in the distance Clattering of horses' hoofs drawing near, and the roll of the wagon, Which, with furious haste, came thundering under the gateway. TERPSICHORE HERMANN Now when of comely mien the son came into the chamber, Turned with a searching look the eyes of the preacher upon him, And, with the gaze of the student, who easily fathoms expression, Scrutinized well his face and form and his general bearing. Then with a smile he spoke, and said in words of affection: "Truly a different being thou comest! I never have seen thee Cheerful as now, nor ever beheld I thy glances so beaming. Joyous thou comest, and happy: 'tis plain that among the poor people Thou hast been sharing thy gifts, and receiving their blessings upon thee." Quietly then, and with serious words, the son made him answer: "If I have acted as ye will commend, I know not; but I followed That which my heart bade me do, as I shall exactly relate you. Thou wert, mother, so long in rummaging 'mong thy old pieces, Picking and choosing, that not until late was thy bundle together; Then too the wine and the beer took care and time in the packing. When I came forth through the gateway at last, and out on the high-road, Backward the crowd of citizens streamed with women and children, Coming to meet me; for far was already the band of the exiles. Quicker I kept on my way, and drove with speed to the village, Where they were meaning to rest, as I heard, and tarry till morning. Thitherward up the new street as I hasted, a stout-timbered wagon, Drawn by two oxen, I saw, of that region the largest and strongest; While, with vigorous steps, a maiden was walking beside them, And, a long staff in her hand, the two powerful creatures was guiding, Urging them now, now holding them back; with skill did she drive them. Soon as the maiden perceived me, she calmly drew near to the horses, And in these words she addressed me: 'Not thus deplorable always Has our condition been, as to-day on this journey thou seest. I am not yet grown used to asking gifts of a stranger, Which he will often unwillingly give, to be rid of the beggar. But necessity drives me to speak; for here, on the straw, lies Newly delivered of child, a rich land-owner's wife, whom I scarcely Have in her pregnancy, safe brought off with the oxen and wagon. Naked, now in her arms the new-born infant is lying, And but little the help our friends will be able to furnish, If in the neighboring village, indeed, where to-day we would rest us, Still we shall find them; though much do I fear they already have passed it. Shouldst thou have linen to spare of any description, provided Thou of this neighborhood art, to the poor in charity give it.' "Thus she spoke, and the pale-faced mother raised herself feebly Up from the straw, and towards me looked. Then said I in answer: 'Surely unto the good, a spirit from heaven oft speaketh, Making them feel the distress that threatens a suffering brother. For thou must know that my mother, already presaging thy sorrows, Gave me a bundle to use it straightway for the need of the naked,' Then I untied the knots of the string, and the wrapper of father's Unto her gave, and gave her as well the shirts and the linen. And she thanked me with joy, and cried: 'The happy believe not Miracles yet can be wrought: for only in need we acknowledge God's own hand and finger, that leads the good to show goodness, What unto us he has done through thee, may he do to thee also! And I beheld with what pleasure the sick woman handled the linens, But with especial delight the dressing-gown's delicate flannel. 'Let us make haste,' the maid to her said, 'and come to the village, Where our people will halt for the night and already are resting. There these clothes for the children I, one and all, straightway will portion.' Then she saluted again, her thanks most warmly expressing, Started the oxen; the wagon went on; but there I still lingered, Still held the horses in check; for now my heart was divided Whether to drive with speed to the village, and there the provisions Share 'mong the rest of the people, or whether I here to the maiden All should deliver at once, for her discreetly to portion. And in an instant my heart had decided, and quietly driving After the maiden, I soon overtook her, and said to her quickly: 'Hearken, good maiden;--my mother packed up not linen-stuffs only Into the carriage, that I should have clothes to furnish the naked; Wine and beer she added besides, and supply of provisions: Plenty of all these things I have in the box of the carriage. But now I feel myself moved to deliver these offerings also Into thy hand; for so shall I best fulfil my commission. Thou wilt divide them with judgment, while I must by chance be directed.' Thereupon answered the maiden: 'I will with faithfulness portion These thy gifts, that all shall bring comfort to those who are needy.' Thus she spoke, and quickly the box of the carriage I opened, Brought forth thence the substantial hams, and brought out the breadstuffs, Bottles of wine and beer, and one and all gave to the maiden. Willingly would I have given her more, but the carriage was empty. All she packed at the sick woman's feet, and went on her journey. I, with my horses and carriage, drove rapidly back to the city." Instantly now, when Hermann had ceased, the talkative neighbor Took up the word, and cried: "Oh happy, in days like the present, Days of flight and confusion, who lives by himself in his dwelling, Having no wife nor child to be clinging about him in terror! Happy I feel myself now, and would not for much be called father; Would not have wife and children to-day, for whom to be anxious. Oft have I thought of this flight before; and have packed up together All my best things already, the chains and old pieces of money That were my sainted mother's, of which not one has been sold yet. Much would be left behind, it is true, not easily gotten. Even the roots and the herbs, that were with such industry gathered, I should be sorry to lose, though the worth of the goods is but trifling. If my purveyor remained, I could go from my dwelling contented. When my cash I have brought away safe, and have rescued my person, All is safe: none find it so easy to fly as the single." "Neighbor," unto his words young Hermann with emphasis answered: "I can in no wise agree with thee here, and censure thy language. Is he indeed a man to be prized, who, in good and in evil, Takes no thought but for self, and gladness and sorrow with others Knows not how to divide, nor feels his heart so impel him? Rather than ever to-day would I make up my mind to be married: Many a worthy maiden is needing a husband's protection, And the man needs an inspiriting wife when ill is impending." Thereupon smiling the father replied: "Thus love I to hear thee! That is a sensible word such as rarely I've known thee to utter." Straightway, however, the mother broke in with quickness, exclaiming: "Son, to be sure, thou art right! we parents have set the example; Seeing that not in our season of joy did we choose one another; Rather the saddest of hours it was that bound us together. Monday morning--I mind it well; for the day that preceded Came that terrible fire by which our city was ravaged-- Twenty years will have gone. The day was a Sunday as this is; Hot and dry was the season; the water was almost exhausted. All the people were strolling abroad in their holiday dresses, 'Mong the villages partly, and part in the mills and the taverns. And at the end of the city the flames began, and went coursing Quickly along the streets, creating a draught in their passage. Burned were the barns where the copious harvest already was garnered; Burned were the streets as far as the market; the house of my father, Neighbor to this, was destroyed, and this one also fell with it. Little we managed to save. I sat, that sorrowful night through, Outside the town on the common, to guard the beds and the boxes. Sleep overtook me at last, and when I again was awakened, Feeling the chill of the morning that always descends before sunrise, There were the smoke and the glare, and the walls and chimneys in ruins. Then fell a weight on my heart; but more majestic than ever Came up the sun again, inspiring my bosom with courage. Then I rose hastily up, with a yearning the place to revisit Whereon our dwelling had stood, and to see if the hens had been rescued, Which I especially loved, for I still was a child in my feelings. Thus as I over the still-smoking timbers of house and of court-yard Picked my way, and beheld the dwelling so ruined and wasted, Thou camest up to examine the place, from the other direction. Under the ruins thy horse in his stall had been buried; the rubbish Lay on the spot and the glimmering beams; of the horse we saw nothing. Thoughtful and grieving we stood there thus, each facing the other, Now that the wall was fallen that once had divided our court-yards. Thereupon thou by the hand didst take me, and speak to me, saying,-- 'Lisa, how earnest thou hither? Go back! thy soles must be burning; Hot the rubbish is here: it scorches my boots, which are stronger.' And thou didst lift me up, and carry me out through thy court-yard. There was the door of the house left standing yet with its archway, Just as 'tis standing now, the one thing only remaining. Then thou didst set me down and kiss me; to that I objected; But thou didst answer and say with kindly significant language: 'See! my house lies in ruins: remain here and help me rebuild it; So shall my help in return be given to building thy father's.' Yet did I not comprehend thee until thou sentest thy mother Unto my father, and quick were the happy espousals accomplished. E'en to this day I remember with joy those half-consumed timbers, And I can see once more the sun coming up in such splendor; For 'twas the day that gave me my husband; and, ere the first season Passed of that wild desolation, a son to my youth had been given. Therefore I praise thee, Hermann, that thou, with an honest assurance, Shouldst, in these sorrowful days, be thinking thyself of a maiden, And amid ruins and war shouldst thus have the courage to woo her." Straightway, then, and with warmth, the father replied to her, saying: "Worthy of praise is the feeling, and truthful also the story, Mother, that thou hast related; for so indeed everything happened. Better, however, is better. It is not the business of all men Thus their life and estate to begin from the very foundation: Every one needs not to worry himself as we and the rest did. Oh, how happy is he whose father and mother shall give him, Furnished and ready, a house which he can adorn with his increase. Every beginning is hard; but most the beginning a household. Many are human wants, and every thing daily grows dearer, So that a man must consider the means of increasing his earnings. This I hope therefore of thee, my Hermann, that into our dwelling Thou wilt be bringing ere long a bride who is handsomely dowered; For it is meet that a gallant young man have an opulent maiden. Great is the comfort of home whene'er, with the woman elected, Enter the useful presents, besides, in box and in basket. Not for this many a year in vain has the mother been busy Making her daughter's linens of strong and delicate texture; God-parents have not in vain been giving their vessels of silver, And the father laid by in his desk the rare pieces of money; For there a day will come when she, with her gifts and possessions, Shall that youth rejoice who has chosen her out of all others. Well do I know how good in a house is a woman's position, Who her own furniture round her knows, in kitchen and chamber; Who herself the bed and herself the table has covered. Only a well-dowered bride should I like to receive to my dwelling. She who is poor is sure, in the end, to be scorned by her husband; And will as servant be held, who as servant came in with her bundle. Men will remain unjust when the season of love is gone over. Yes, my Hermann, thy father's old age thou greatly canst gladden, If thou a daughter-in-law will speedily bring to my dwelling, Out of the neighborhood here,--from the house over yonder, the green one. Rich is the man, I can tell thee. His manufactures and traffic Daily are making him richer; for whence draws the merchant not profit? Three daughters only he has, to divide his fortune among them. True that the eldest already is taken; but there is the second Still to be had, as well as the third; and not long so, it may be. I would never have lingered till now, had I been in thy place; But had fetched one of the maidens, as once I bore off thy dear mother." Modestly then did the son to the urgent father answer; "Truly 'twas my wish too, as well as thine own, to have chosen One of our neighbor's daughters, for we had been brought up together; Played, in the early days, about the market-place fountain; And, from the other boys' rudeness, I often have been their defender. That, though, is long since past: the girls, as they grew to be older, Properly stayed in the house, and shunned the more boisterous pastimes. Well brought up are they, surely! I used sometimes to go over, Partly to gratify thee, and because of our former acquaintance: But no pleasure I ever could take in being among them; For I was always obliged to endure their censures upon me. Quite too long was my coat, the cloth too coarse, and the color Quite too common; my hair was not cropped, as it should be, and frizzled. I was resolved, at last, that I, also, would dress myself finely, Just as those office-boys do who always are seen there on Sundays, Wearing in summer their half-silken flaps, that dangled about them; But I discovered, betimes, they made ever a laughing-stock of me. And I was vexed when I saw it,--it wounded my pride; but more deeply Felt I aggrieved that they the good-will should so far misinterpret That in my heart I bore them,--especially Minna the youngest. It was on Easter-day that last I went over to see them; Wearing my best new coat, that is now hanging up in the closet, And having frizzled my hair, like that of the other young fellows. Soon as I entered, they tittered; but that not at me, as I fancied. Minna before the piano was seated; the father was present, Hearing his daughters sing, and full of delight and good-humor. Much I could not understand of all that was said in the singing; But of Pamina I often heard, and oft of Tamino: And I, besides, could not stay there dumb; so, as soon as she ended, Something about the words I asked, and about the two persons. Thereupon all were silent and smiled; but the father made answer: 'Thou knowest no one, my friend, I believe, but Adam and Eve?' No one restrained himself longer, but loud laughed out then the maidens, Loud laughed out the boys, the old man held his sides for his laughing. I, in embarrassment, dropped my hat, and the giggling continued, On and on and on, for all they kept playing and singing. Back to the house here I hurried, o'ercome with shame and vexation, Hung up my coat in the closet, and pulled out the curls with my fingers, Swearing that never again my foot should cross over that threshold. And I was perfectly right; for vain are the maidens, and heartless. E'en to this day, as I hear, I am called by them ever 'Tamino.'" Thereupon answered the mother, and said: "Thou shouldest not, Hermann, Be so long vexed with the children: indeed, they are all of them children. Minna, believe me, is good, and was always disposed to thee kindly. 'Twas not long since she was asking about thee. Let her be thy chosen!" Thoughtfully answered the son: "I know not. That mortification Stamped itself in me so deeply, I never could bear to behold her Seated before the piano or listen again to her singing." Forth broke the father then, and in words of anger made answer: "Little of joy will my life have in thee! I said it would be so When I perceived that thy pleasure was solely in horses and farming: Work which a servant, indeed, performs for an opulent master, That thou doest; the father meanwhile must his son be deprived of, Who should appear as his pride, in the sight of the rest of the townsmen. Early with empty hopes thy mother was wont to deceive me, When in the school thy studies, thy reading and writing, would never As with the others succeed, but thy seat would be always the lowest. That comes about, forsooth, when a youth has no feeling of honor Dwelling within his breast, nor the wish to raise himself higher. Had but my father so cared for me as thou hast been cared for; If he had sent me to school, and provided me thus with instructors, I should be other, I trow, than host of the Golden Lion!" Then the son rose from his seat and noiselessly moved to the doorway, Slowly, and speaking no word. The father, however; in passion After him called, "Yes, go, thou obstinate fellow! I know thee! Go and look after the business henceforth, that I have not to chide thee; But do thou nowise imagine that ever a peasant-born maiden Thou for a daughter-in-law shalt bring into my dwelling, the hussy! Long have I lived in the world, and know how mankind should be dealt with; Know how to entertain ladies and gentlemen so that contented They shall depart from my house, and strangers agreeably can flatter. Yet I'm resolved that some day I one will have for a daughter, Who shall requite me in kind and sweeten my manifold labors; Who the piano shall play to me, too; so that there shall with pleasure All the handsomest people in town and the finest assemble, As they on Sundays do now in the house of our neighbor." Here Hermann Softly pressed on the latch, and so went out from the chamber. THALIA THE CITIZENS Thus did the modest son slip away from the angry upbraiding; But in the tone he had taken at first, the father continued: "That comes not out of a man which he has not in him; and hardly Shall the joy ever be mine of seeing my dearest wish granted: That my son may not as his father be, but a better. What would become of the house, and what of the city if each one Were not with pleasure and always intent on maintaining, renewing, Yea, and improving, too, as time and the foreigner teach us! Man is not meant, forsooth, to grow from the ground like a mushroom, Quickly to perish away on the spot of ground that begot him, Leaving no trace behind of himself and his animate action! As by the house we straightway can tell the mind of the master, So, when we walk through a city, we judge of the persons who rule it. For where the towers and walls are falling to ruin; where offal Lies in heaps in the gutters, and alleys with offal are littered; Where from its place has started the stone, and no one resets it; Where the timbers are rotting away, and the house is awaiting Vainly its new supports,--that place we may know is ill governed. Since if not from above work order and cleanliness downward, Easily grows the citizen used to untidy postponement; Just as the beggar grows likewise used to his ragged apparel. Therefore I wished that our Hermann might early set out on some travels; That he at least might behold the cities of Strasburg and Frankfort, Friendly Mannheim, too, that is cheerful and evenly builded. He that has once beheld cities so cleanly and large, never after Ceases his own native city, though small it may be, to embellish. Do not the strangers who come here commend the repairs in our gateway, Notice our whitewashed tower, and the church we have newly rebuilded? Are not all praising our pavement? the covered canals full of water, Laid with a wise distribution, which furnish us profit and safety, So that no sooner does fire break out than 'tis promptly arrested? Has not all this come to pass since the time of our great conflagration? Builder I six times was named by the council, and won the approval, Won moreover the heartfelt thanks of all the good burghers, Actively carrying out what I planned, and also fulfilling What had by upright men been designed, and left uncompleted. Finally grew the same zeal in every one of the council; All now labor together, and firmly decided already Stands it to build the new causeway that shall with the highroad connect us. But I am sorely afraid that will not be the way with our children. Some think only of pleasure and perishable apparel; Others will cower at home, and behind the stove will sit brooding. One of this kind, as I fear, we shall find to the last in our Hermann." Straightway answered and said the good and intelligent mother: "Why wilt thou always, father, be doing our son such injustice? That least of all is the way to bring thy wish to fulfilment. We have no power to fashion our children as suiteth our fancy; As they are given by God, we so must have them and love them; Teach them as best we can, and let each of them follow his nature. One will have talents of one sort, and different talents another. Every one uses his own; in his own individual fashion, Each must be happy and good. I will not have my Hermann found fault with; For he is worthy, I know, of the goods he shall one day inherit; Will be an excellent landlord, a pattern to burghers and builders; Neither in council, as I can foresee, will he be the most backward. But thou keepest shut up in his breast all the poor fellow's spirit, Finding such fault with him daily, and censuring as thou but now hast." And on the instant she quitted the room, and after him hurried, Hoping she somewhere might find him, and might with her words of affection Cheer him again, her excellent son, for well he deserved it. Thereupon when she was gone, the father thus smiling continued: "What a strange folk, to be sure, are these women; and just like the children; Both of them bent upon living according as suiteth their pleasure, While we others must never do aught but flatter and praise them. Once for all time holds good the ancients' trustworthy proverb: 'Whoever goes not forward comes backward.' So must it be always." Thereupon answered and said, in a tone of reflection, the doctor: "That, sir neighbor, I willingly grant; for myself I am always Casting about for improvement,--things new, so they be not too costly. But what profits a man, who has not abundance of money, Being thus active and stirring, and bettering inside and outside? Only too much is the citizen cramped: the good, though he know it, Has he no means to acquire because too slender his purse is, While his needs are too great; and thus is he constantly hampered. Many the things I had done; but then the cost of such changes Who does not fear, especially now in this season of danger? Long since my house was smiling upon me in modish apparel! Long since great panes of glass were gleaming in all of the windows! But who can do as the merchant does, who, with his resources, Knows the methods as well by which the best is arrived at? Look at that house over yonder,--the new one; behold with what splendor 'Gainst the background of green stand out the white spirals of stucco! Great are the panes in the windows; and how the glass sparkles and glitters, Casting quite into the shade the rest of the market-place houses! Yet just after the fire were our two houses the finest, This of the Golden Lion, and mine of the sign of the Angel. So was my garden, too, throughout the whole neighborhood famous: Every traveller stopped and gazed through the red palisadoes, Caught by the beggars there carved in stone and the dwarfs of bright colors. Then whosoever had coffee served in the beautiful grotto,-- Standing there now all covered with dust and Partly in ruins,-- Used to be mightily pleased with the glimmering light of the mussels Spread out in beautiful order; and even the eye of the critic Used by the sight of my corals and potter's ore to be dazzled. So in my parlor, too, they would always admire the painting, Where in a garden are gaily dressed ladies and gentlemen walking, And with their taper fingers are plucking and holding the flowers. But who would look at it now! In sooth, so great my vexation Scarcely I venture abroad. All now must be other and tasteful, So they call it; and white are the laths and benches of wood-work; Everything simple and smooth; no carving longer or gilding Can be endured, and the woods from abroad are of all the most costly. Well, I too should be glad could I get for myself something novel; Glad to keep up with the times, and be changing my furniture often; Yet must we all be afraid of touching the veriest trifle. For who among us has means for paying the work-people's wages Lately I had an idea of giving the Archangel Michael, Making the sign of my shop, another fresh coating of gilding, And to the terrible dragon about his feet that is winding; But I e'en let him stay browned as he is: I dreaded the charges." EUTERPE MOTHER AND SON Thus entertaining themselves, the men sat talking. The mother Went meanwhile to look for her son in front of the dwelling, First on the settle of stone, whereon 'twas his wont to be seated. When she perceived him not there, she went farther to look in the stable, If he were caring perhaps for his noble horses, the stallions, Which he as colts had bought, and whose care he intrusted to no one. And by the servant she there was told: He is gone to the garden. Then with a nimble step she traversed the long, double courtyards, Leaving the stables behind, and the well-builded barns, too, behind her; Entered the garden, that far as the walls of the city extended; Walked through its length, rejoiced as she went in every thing growing; Set upright the supports on which were resting the branches Heavily laden with apples, and burdening boughs of the pear-tree. Next some caterpillars removed from a stout, swelling cabbage; For an industrious woman allows no step to be wasted. Thus was she come at last to the end of the far-reaching garden, Where stood the arbor embowered in woodbine; nor there did she find him, More than she had hitherto in all her search through the garden. But the wicket was standing ajar, which out of the arbor, Once by particular favor, had been through the walls of the city Cut by a grandsire of hers, the worshipful burgomaster. So the now dried-up moat she next crossed over with comfort, Where, by the side of the road, direct the well-fenced vineyard, Rose with a steep ascent, its slope exposed to the sunshine. Up this also she went, and with pleasure as she was ascending Marked the wealth of the clusters, that scarce by their leafage were hidden. Shady and covered the way through the lofty middlemost alley, Which upon steps that were made of unhewn blocks you ascended. There were the Muscatel, and there were the Chasselas hanging Side by side, of unusual size and colored with purple, All set out with the purpose of decking the visitor's table; While with single vine-stocks the rest of the hillside was covered, Bearing inferior clusters, from which the delicate wine comes. Thus up the slope she went, enjoying already the vintage, And that festive day on which the whole country, rejoicing, Picks and tramples the grapes, and gathers the must into vessels: Fireworks, when it is evening, from every direction and corner Crackle and blaze, and so the fairest of harvests is honored. But more uneasy she went, her son after twice or thrice calling, And no answer receiving, except from the talkative echo, That with many repeats rang back from the towers of the city. Strange it was for her to seek him; he never had gone to a distance That he told her not first, to spare his affectionate mother Every anxious thought, and fear that aught ill had befallen. Still did she constantly hope that, if further she went, she should find him; For the two doors of the vineyard, the lower as well as the upper, Both were alike standing open. So now she entered the cornfield, That with its broad expanse the ridge of the hill covered over. Still was the ground that she walked on her own; and the crops she rejoiced in,-- All of them still were hers, and hers was the proud-waving grain, too, Over the whole broad field in golden strength that was stirring. Keeping the ridgeway, the footpath, between the fields she went onward, Having the lofty pear-tree in view, which stood on the summit, And was the boundary-mark of the fields that belonged to her dwelling. Who might have planted it, none could know, but visible was it Far and wide through the country; the fruit of the pear-tree was famous. 'Neath it the reapers were wont to enjoy their meal at the noon-day, And the shepherds were used to tend their flocks in its shadow. Benches of unhewn stones and of turf they found set about it. And she had not been mistaken, for there sat her Hermann, and rested,-- Sat with his head on his hand, and seemed to be viewing the landscape That to the mountains lay: his back was turned to his mother. Towards him softly she crept, and lightly touched on the shoulder; Quick he turned himself round: there were tears in his eyes as he met her. "Mother, how hast thou surprised me!" he said in confusion; and quickly Wiped the high-spirited youth his tears away. But the mother, "What! do I find thee weeping, my son?" exclaimed in amazement. "Nay, that is not like thyself: I never before have so seen thee! Tell me, what burdens thy heart? what drives thee here, to be sitting Under the pear-tree alone? These tears in thine eyes, what has brought them?" Then, collecting himself, the excellent youth made her answer: "Truly no heart can that man have in his bosom of iron, Who is insensible now to the needs of this emigrant people; He has no brains in his head, who not for his personal safety, Not for his fatherland's weal, in days like the present is anxious. Deeply my heart had been touched by the sights and sounds of the morning; Then I went forth and beheld the broad and glorious landscape Spreading its fertile slopes in every direction about us, Saw the golden grain inclining itself to the reapers, And the promise of well-filled barns from the plentiful harvest. But, alas, how near is the foe! The Rhine with its waters Guards us, indeed; but, ah, what now are rivers and mountains 'Gainst that terrible people that onward bears like a tempest! For they summon their youths from every quarter together, Call up their old men too, and press with violence forward. Death cannot frighten the crowd: one multitude follows another. And shall a German dare to linger behind in his homestead? Hopes he perhaps to escape the everywhere threatening evil? Nay, dear mother, I tell thee, to-day has made me regretful That I was lately exempt, when out of our townsmen were chosen Those who should serve in the army. An only son I am truly, Also our business is great, and the charge of our household is weighty. Yet were it better, I deem, in the front to offer resistance There on the border, than here to await disaster and bondage. So has my spirit declared, and deep in my innermost bosom Courage and longing have now been aroused to live for my country, Yea, and to die, presenting to others a worthy example. If but the strength of Germany's youth were banded together There on the frontier, resolved that it never would yield to the stranger, Ah, he should not on our glorious soil be setting his foot-steps, Neither consuming before our eyes the fruit of our labor, Ruling our men, and making his prey of our wives and our daughters. Hark to me, mother: for I in the depths of my heart am determined Quickly to do, and at once, what appears to me right and in reason; For he chooses not always the best who longest considers. Hearken, I shall not again return to the house; but directly Go from this spot to the city, and there present to the soldiers This right arm and this heart, to be spent in the fatherland's service. Then let my father say if there be no feeling of honor Dwelling within my breast, nor a wish to raise myself higher." Then with significant words spoke the good and intelligent mother, While from her eyes the quick-starting tears were silently falling: "Son, what change has come o'er thee to-day, and over thy temper, That thou speakest no more, as thou yesterday didst, and hast always, Open and free, to thy mother, and tellest exactly thy wishes? Any one else, had he heard thee thus speak, would in sooth have commended, And this decision of thine would have highly approved as most noble, Being misled by thy tone and by thy significant language. Yet have I nothing but censure to speak; for better I know thee. Thou concealest thy heart, and thy thoughts are not such as thou tellest. Well do I know that it is not the drum, not the trumpet that calls thee: Neither in uniform wouldst thou figure in sight of the maidens; Since, for all thou art honest and brave, it is thy vocation Here in quiet to care for the farm and provide for the household. Tell me honestly, therefore, what goads thee to such a decision?" Earnestly answered the son: "Nay, thou art mistaken, dear mother: One day is not like another. The youth matures into manhood: Better in stillness oft ripening to deeds than when in the tumult Wildering and wild of existence, that many a youth has corrupted. And, for as still as I am and was always, there yet in my bosom Has such a heart been shaped as abhors all wrong and injustice; And I have learned aright between worldly things to distinguish. Arm and foot, besides, have been mightily strengthened by labor. All this, I feel, is true: I dare with boldness maintain it. Yet dost thou blame me with reason, O mother! for thou hast surprised me Using a language half truthful and half that of dissimulation. For, let me honestly own,--it is not the near danger that calls me Forth from my father's house; nor is it the lofty ambition Helpful to be to my country, and terrible unto the foeman. They were but words that I spoke: they only were meant for concealing Those emotions from thee with which my heart is distracted; And so leave me, O mother! for, since the wishes are fruitless Which in my bosom I cherish, my life must go fruitlessly over. For, as I know, he injures himself who is singly devoted, When for the common cause the whole are not working together." "Hesitate not," replied thereupon the intelligent mother, "Every thing to relate me, the smallest as well as the greatest. Men will always be hasty, their thoughts to extremes ever running: Easily out of their course the hasty are turned by a hindrance. Whereas a woman is clever in thinking of means, and will venture E'en on a roundabout way, adroitly to compass her object. Let me know every thing, then; say wherefore so greatly excited 'As I ne'er saw thee before, why thy blood is coursing so hotly, Wherefore, against thy will, tears are filling thine eyes to o'erflowing." Then he abandoned himself, the poor boy, to his sorrow, and weeping, Weeping aloud on his kind mother's breast, he brokenly answered: "Truly my father's words to-day have wounded me sorely,-- Words which I have not deserved; not to-day, nor at any time have I: For it was early my greatest delight to honor my parents. No one knew more, so I deemed, or was wiser than those who begot me, And had with strictness ruled throughout the dark season of childhood. Many the things, in truth, I with patience endured from my playmates, When the good-will that I bore them they often requited with malice. Often I suffered their flings and their blows to pass unresented; But if they ventured to ridicule father, when he of a Sunday Home from Church would come, with his solemn and dignified bearing; If they made fun of his cap-string, or laughed at the flowers of the wrapper He with such stateliness wore, which was given away but this morning,-- Threateningly doubled my fist in an instant; with furious passion Fell I upon them, and struck out and hit, assailing them blindly, Seeing not where. They howled as the blood gushed out from their noses: Scarcely they made their escape from my passionate kicking and beating. Then, as I older grew, I had much to endure from my father; Violent words he oft vented on me, instead of on others, When, at the board's last session, the council had roused his displeasure, And I was made to atone for the quarrels and wiles of his colleagues. Thou has pitied me often thyself; for much did I suffer, Ever remembering with cordial respect the kindness of parents, Solely intent on increasing for us their goods and possessions, Much denying themselves in order to save for their children. But, alas! saving alone, for the sake of a tardy enjoyment,-- That is not happiness: pile upon pile, and acre on acre, Make us not happy, no matter how fair our estates may be rounded. For the father grows old, and with him will grow old the children, Losing the joy of the day, and bearing the care of tomorrow. Look thou below, and see how before us in glory are lying, Fair and abundant, the corn-fields; beneath them, the vineyard and garden; Yonder the stables and barns; our beautiful line of possessions. But when I look at the dwelling behind, where up in the gable We can distinguish the window that marks my room in the attic; When I look back, and remember how many a night from that window I for the moon have watched; for the sun, how many a morning! When the healthful sleep of a few short hours sufficed me,-- Ah, so lonely they seem to me then, the chamber and courtyard, Garden and glorious field, away o'er the hill that is stretching; All so desert before me lie: 'tis the wife that is wanting." Thereupon spoke the good mother, and thus with intelligence answered: "Son, not greater thy wish to bring thee a bride to thy chamber, That thou mayst find thy nights a beautiful part of existence, And that the work of the day may gain independence and freedom, Than is thy father's wish too, and thy mother's. We always have counselled,-- Yea, we have even insisted,--that thou shouldst select thee a maiden. But I was ever aware, and now my heart gives me assurance, That till the hour appointed is come, and the maiden appointed Shall with the hour appear, the choice will be left for the future, While more strong than all else will be fear of grasping the wrong one. If I may say it, my son, I believe thou already hast chosen; For thy heart has been touched, and been made more than wontedly tender. Speak it out honestly, then; for my soul has told me beforehand: That same maiden it is, the exile, whom thou hast elected." "Thou has said, mother!" the son thereupon with eagerness answered. "Yes, it is she; and if I to-day as my bride do not bring her Home to our dwelling, she from me will go, perhaps vanish for ever, Lost in the war's confusion and sad movings hither and thither. Mother, for ever in vain would then our abundant possessions Prosper before me, and seasons to come be in vain to me fruitful. Yea, I should hold in aversion the wonted house and the garden: Even my mother's love, alas! would not comfort my sorrow. Every tie, so I feel in my heart, by love is unloosened Soon as she fastens her own; and not the maid is it only Leaves behind father and mother, to follow the man she has chosen. He too, the youth, no longer knows aught of mother and father, When he the maiden, his only beloved, sees vanishing from him. Suffer me, then, to go hence wherever despair shall impel me: Since by my father himself the decisive words have been spoken; Since his house can no longer be mine if he shut out the maiden, Her whom alone as my bride I desire to bring to our dwelling." Thereupon quickly made answer the good and intelligent mother: "How like to rocks, forsooth, two men will stand facing each other! Proud and not to be moved, will neither draw near to his fellow; Neither will stir his tongue to utter the first word of kindness. Therefore I tell thee, my son, a hope yet lives in my bosom, So she be honest and good, thy father will let thee espouse her, Even though poor, and against a poor girl so decisive his sentence. Many a thing he is wont to speak out in his violent fashion Which he yet never performs; and so what he denies will consent to. Yet he requires a kindly word, and is right to require it: He is the father! Besides we know that his wrath after dinner,-- When he most hastily speaks, and questions all others' opinions,-- Signifies naught; the full force of his violent will is excited Then by the wine, which lets him not heed the language of others; None but himself does he see and feel. But now is come evening, Talk upon various subjects has passed between him and his neighbors. Gentle, he is; I am sure now his little excitement is over, And he can feel how unjust his passion has made him to others. Come, let us venture at once: success is alone to the valiant! Further we need the friends, still sitting together there with him; And in especial the worthy pastor will give us assistance." Thus she hastily spoke, and up from the stone then arising, Drew from his seat her son, who willingly followed. In silence Both descended the hill, their important purpose revolving. POLYHYMNIA THE CITIZEN OF THE WORLD HERE the three men, however, still sat conversing together, With mine host of the Lion, the village doctor, and pastor; And their talk was still on the same unvarying subject, Turning it this way and that, and viewing from every direction. But with his sober judgment the excellent pastor made answer: "Here will I not contradict you. I know that man should be always Striving for that which is better; indeed, as we see, he is reaching Always after the higher, at least some novelty craving. But be careful ye go not too far, for with this disposition Nature has given us pleasure in holding to what is familiar; Taught us in that to delight to which we have long been accustomed. Every condition is good that is founded on reason and nature. Many are man's desires, yet little it is that he needeth; Seeing the days are short and mortal destiny bounded. Ne'er would I censure the man whom a restless activity urges, Bold and industrious, over all pathways of land and of ocean, Ever untiring to roam; who takes delight in the riches, Heaping in generous abundance about himself and his children. Yet not unprized by me is the quiet citizen also, Making the noiseless round of his own inherited acres, Tilling the ground as the ever-returning seasons command him. Not with every year is the soil transfigured about him; Not in haste does the tree stretch forth, as soon as 'tis planted, Full-grown arms towards heaven and decked with plenteous blossoms. No: man has need of patience, and needful to him are also Calmness and clearness of mind, and a pure and right understanding. Few are the seeds he intrusts to earth's all-nourishing bosom; Few are the creatures he knows how to raise and bring to perfection. Centred are all his thoughts alone on that which is useful. Happy to whom by nature a mind of such temper is given, For he supports us all! And hail, to the man whose abode is Where in a town the country pursuits with the city are blended. On him lies not the pressure that painfully hampers the farmer, Nor is he carried away by the greedy ambition of cities; Where they of scanty possessions too often are given to aping, Wives and daughters especially, those who are higher and richer. Blessed be therefore thy son in his life of quiet employment; Blessed the wife, of like mind with himself, whom he one day shall choose him." Thus he spoke; and scarce had he ended when entered the mother, Holding her son by the hand, and so led him up to her husband. "Father," she said, "how oft when we two have been chatting together, Have we rejoiced in the thought of Hermann's future espousal, When he should bring his bride to be the light of our dwelling! Over and over again the matter we pondered: this maiden Fixing upon for him first, and then that, with the gossip of parents. But that day is now come; and Heaven at last has the maiden Brought to him hither, and shown him; and now his heart has decided. Said we not always then he should have his own choice in the matter? Was it not just now thy wish that he might with lively affection Feel himself drawn to some maiden? The hour is come that we hoped for. Yes; he has felt and has chosen and come to a manly decision. That same maiden it is that met him this morning, the stranger: Say he may have her, or else, as he swears, his life shall be single." "Give her me, father," so added the son: "my heart has elected Clear and sure; she will be to you both the noblest of daughters." But the father was silent. Then hastily rose the good pastor, Took up the word and said: "The moment alone is decisive; Fixes the life of man, and his future destiny settles. After long taking of counsel, yet only the work of a moment Every decision must be; and the wise alone seizes the right one. Dangerous always it is comparing the one with the other When we are making our choice, and so confusing our feelings. Hermann is pure. From childhood up I have known him, and never E'en as a boy was he wont to be reaching for this and the other: What he desired was best for him too, and he held to it firmly. Be not surprised and alarmed that now has appeared of a sudden, What thou hast wished for so long. It is true that the present appearance Bears not the form of the wish, exactly as thou hadst conceived it: For our wishes oft hide from ourselves the object we wish for; Gifts come down from above in the shapes appointed by Heaven. Therefore misjudge not the maiden who now of thy dearly beloved, Good and intelligent son has been first to touch the affections: Happy to whom at once his first love's hand shall be given, And in whose heart no tenderest wish must secretly languish. Yes: his whole bearing assures me that now his fate is decided. Genuine love matures in a moment the youth into manhood; He is not easily moved; and I fear that if this be refused him, Sadly his years will go by, those years that should be the fairest," Straightway then in a thoughtful tone the doctor made answer, On whose tongue for a long time past the words had been trembling: "Pray let us here as before pursue the safe middle course only. Make haste slowly: that was Augustus the emperor's motto. Willingly I myself place at my well-beloved neighbor's disposal, Ready to do him what service I can with my poor understanding. Youth most especially stands in need of some one to guide it. Let me therefore go forth that I may examine the maiden, And may question the people among whom she lives and who know her. Me 'tis not easy to cheat: I know how words should be valued." Straightway the son broke in, and with wing'ed words made he answer: "Do so, neighbor, and go and make thine inquiries; but with thee I should be glad if our minister here were joined in the errand: Two such excellent men would be irreproachable judges. O my father! believe me, she's none of those wandering maidens, Not one of those who stroll through the land in search of adventure, And who seek to ensnare inexperienced youth in their meshes. No: the hard fortunes of war, that universal destroyer, Which is convulsing the earth and has hurled from its deep foundations Many a structure already, have sent the poor girl into exile. Are not now men of high birth, the most noble, in misery roaming? Princes fly in disguise and kings are in banishment living. So alas! also is she, the best among all of her sisters, Driven an exile from home; yet, her personal sorrows forgetting, She is devoted to others; herself without help, she is helpful. Great is the want and the suffering over the earth that are spreading: Shall not some happiness, too, be begotten of all this affliction, And shall not I in the arms of my wife, my trusted companion, Look back with joy to the war, as do ye to the great conflagration?" Outspoke the father then in a tone of decision, and answered: "Strangely thy tongue has been loosened, my son, which many a year past Seemed to have stuck in thy mouth, and only to move on compulsion! I must experience to-day, it would seem, what threatens all fathers, That the son's headstrong will the mother with readiness favors, Showing too easy indulgence; and every neighbor sides with them When there is aught to be carried against the father and husband. But I will not oppose you, thus banded together: how could I? For I already perceive here tears and defiance beforehand. Go ye therefore, inquire, in God's name, bring me the daughter. But if not so, then the boy is to think no more of the maiden." Thus the father. The son cried out with joyful demeanor, "Ere it is evening the noblest of daughters shall hither be brought you, Such as no man with sound sense in his breast can fail to be pleased with. Happy, I venture to hope, will be also the excellent maiden. Yes; she will ever be grateful for having had father and mother Given once more in you, and such as a child most delights in. Now I will tarry no longer, but straightway harness the horses, Drive forth our friends at once on the footsteps of my beloved, Leaving them then to act for themselves, as their wisdom shall dictate, Guide myself wholly, I promise, according to what they determine, And, until I may call her my own, ne'er look on the maiden." Thus he went forth: the others meanwhile remained in discussion, Rapid and earnest, considering deeply their great undertaking. Hermann hasted straightway to the stable, where quietly standing Found he the spirited stallions, the clean oats quickly devouring, And the well-dried hay that was cut from the richest of meadows. On them without delay the shining bits he adjusted, Hastily drew the straps through the buckles of beautiful plating, Firmly fastened then the long broad reins, and the horses Led without to the court-yard, whither the willing assistant Had with ease, by the pole, already drawn forward the carriage. Next to the whipple-tree they with care by the neatly kept traces Joined the impetuous strength of the freely travelling horses. Whip in hand took Hermann his seat and drove under the doorway. Soon as the friends straightway their commodious places had taken, Quickly the carriage rolled off, and left the pavement behind it, Left behind it the walls of the town and the fresh-whitened towers. Thus drove Hermann on till he came to the well-known causeway. Rapidly, loitering nowhere, but hastening up hill and down hill. But as he now before him perceived the spire of the village, And no longer remote the garden-girt houses were lying, Then in himself he thought that here he would rein up the horses. Under the solemn shade of lofty linden-trees lying, Which for centuries past upon this spot had been rooted, Spread in front of the village a broad and grass-covered common, Favorite place of resort for the peasants and neighboring townsfolk. Here, at the foot of the trees, sunk deep in the ground was a well-spring; When you descended the steps, stone benches you found at the bottom, Stationed about the spring, whose pure, living waters were bubbling Ceaselessly forth, hemmed in by low walls for convenience of drawing. Hermann resolved that here he would halt, with his horses and carriage, Under the shade of the trees. He did so, and said to the others; "Here alight, my friends, and go your ways to discover Whether the maiden in truth be worthy the hand that I offer. That, she is so, I believe; naught new or strange will ye tell me. Had I to act for myself, I should go with speed to the village, Where a few words from the maiden's own lips should determine my fortune. Ye will with readiness single her out from all of the others, For there can scarcely be one that to her may be likened in bearing. But I will give you, besides, her modest attire for a token: Mark, then, the stomacher's scarlet, that sets off the arch of her bosom, Prettily laced, and the bodice of black fitting close to her figure; Neatly the edge of her kerchief is plaited into a ruffle, Which with a simple grace her chin's rounded outline encircles; Freely and lightly rises above it the head's dainty oval; And her luxuriant hair over silver bodkins is braided; Down from under her bodice, the full, blue petticoat falling, Wraps itself, when she is walking, about her neatly shaped ankles. Yet one thing will I say, and would make it my earnest petition,-- Speak not yourselves with the maiden, nor let your intent be discovered; Rather inquire of others, and hearken to what they may tell you. When ye have tidings enough to satisfy father and mother, Then return to me here, and we will consider what further. So did I plan it all out in my mind while driving you hither." Thus he spoke. The friends thereupon went their way to the village, Where, in the houses and gardens and barns, the people were swarming; Wagons on wagons stood crowded together along the broad highway. Men for the harnessed horses and lowing cattle were caring, While the women were busy in drying their clothes on the hedges, And in the running brook the children were merrily splashing. Making their way through the pressure of wagons, of people and cattle, Went the commissioned spies, and to right and to left looked about them, If they a figure might see that answered the maiden's description; But not one of them all appeared the beautiful damsel. Denser soon grew the press. A contest arose round the wagons 'Mongst the threatening men, wherein blended the cries of the women. Rapidly then to the spot, and with dignified step, came an elder, Joined the clamoring group, and straightway the uproar was silenced, As he commanded peace, and rebuked with a fatherly sternness. "Has, then, misfortune," he cried, "not yet so bound us together, That we have finally learned to bear and forbear one another, Though each one, it may be, do not measure his share of the labor? He that is happy, forsooth, is contentious! Will sufferings never Teach you to cease from your brawls of old between brother and brother? Grudge not one to another a place on the soil of the stranger; Rather divide what ye have, as yourselves, ye would hope to find mercy." Thus spoke the man and all became silent: restored to good humor, Peaceably then the people arranged their cattle and wagons. But when the clergyman now had heard what was said by the stranger, And had the steadfast mind of the foreign justice discovered, He to the man drew near and with words of meaning addressed him: "True it is, father, that when in prosperity people are living, Feeding themselves from the earth, which far and wide opens her bosom, And in the years and months renews the coveted blessings,-- All goes on of itself, and each himself deems the wisest, Deems the best, and so they continue abiding together, He of greatest intelligence ranking no higher than others; All that occurs, as if of itself, going quietly forward. But let disaster unsettle the usual course of existence, Tear down the buildings about us, lay waste the crops and the garden, Banish the husband and wife from their old, familiar-grown dwelling, Drive them to wander abroad through nights and days of privation,-- Then, ah then! we look round us to see what man is the wisest, And no longer in vain his glorious words will be spoken. Tell me, art thou not judge among this fugitive people, Father, who thus in an instant canst bid their passions be quiet? Thou dost appear to-day as one of those earliest leaders, Who through deserts and wanderings guided the emigrant nations. Yea, I could even believe I were speaking with Joshua or Moses." Then with serious look the magistrate answered him, saying: "Truly our times might well be compared with all others in strangeness, Which are in history mentioned, profane or sacred tradition; For who has yesterday lived and to-day in times like the present, He has already lived years, events are so crowded together. If I look back but a little, it seems that my head must be hoary Under the burden of years, and yet my strength is still active. Well may we of this day compare ourselves unto that people Who, from the burning bush, beheld in the hour of their danger God the Lord: we also in cloud and in fire have beheld him." Seeing the priest was inclined to speak yet more with the stranger, And was desirous of learning his story and that of his people, Privately into his ear his companion hastily whispered: "Talk with the magistrate further, and lead him to speak of the maiden. I, however, will wander in search, and as soon as I find her, Come and report to thee here." The minister nodded, assenting; And through the gardens, hedges, and barns, went the spy on his errand. CLIO THE AGE Now when the foreign judge had been by the minister questioned As to his people's distress, and how long their exile had lasted, Thus made answer the man: "Of no recent date are our sorrows; Since of the gathering bitter of years our people have drunken,-- Bitterness all the more dreadful because such fair hope had been blighted. Who will pretend to deny that his heart swelled high in his bosom, And that his freer breast with purer pulses was beating; When we beheld the new sun arise in his earliest splendor, When of the rights of men we heard, which to all should be common, Were of a righteous equality told, and inspiriting freedom? Every one hoped that then he should live his own life, and the fetters, Binding the various lands, appeared their hold to be loosing,-- Fetters that had in the hand of sloth been held and self-seeking. Looked not the eyes of all nations, throughout that calamitous season, Towards the world's capital city, for so it had long been considered, And of that glorious title was now, more than ever, deserving? "Were not the names of those men who first delivered the message, Names to compare with the highest that under the heavens are spoken? Did not, in every man, grow courage and spirit and language? And, as neighbors, we, first of all, were zealously kindled. Thereupon followed the war, and armed bodies of Frenchmen Pressed to us nearer; yet nothing but friendship they seemed to be bringing; Ay, and they brought it too; for exalted the spirit within them: They with rejoicing the festive trees of liberty planted, Promising every man what was his own, and to each his own ruling. High beat the heart of the youths, and even the aged were joyful; Gaily the dance began about the newly raised standard. Thus had they speedily won, these overmastering Frenchmen, First the spirits of men by the fire and dash of their bearing, Then the hearts of the women with irresistible graces. Even the pressure of hungry war seemed to weigh on us lightly, So before our vision did hope hang over the future, Luring our eyes abroad into newly opening pathways. Oh, how joyful the time when with her belov'ed the maiden Whirls in the dance, the longed-for day of their union awaiting! But more glorious that day on which to our vision the highest Heart of man can conceive seemed near and attainable to us. Loosened was every tongue, and men--the aged, the stripling-- Spoke aloud in words that were full of high feeling and wisdom. Soon, however, the sky was o'ercast. A corrupt generation Fought for the right of dominion, unworthy the good to establish; So that they slew one another, their new-made neighbors and brothers Held in subjection, and then sent the self-seeking masses against us. Chiefs committed excesses and wholesale plunder upon us, While those lower plundered and rioted down to the lowest: Every one seemed but to care that something be left for the morrow. Great past endurance the need, and daily grew the oppression: They were the lords of the day; there was none to hear our complaining. Then fell trouble and rage upon even the quietest spirit. One thought only had all, and swore for their wrongs to have vengeance, And for the bitter loss of their hope thus doubly deluded. Presently Fortune turned and declared on the side of the German, And with hurried marches the French retreated before us. Ah! then as never before did we feel the sad fortunes of warfare: He that is victor is great and good,--or at least he appears SO,-- And he, as one of his own, will spare the man he has conquered, Him whose service he daily needs, and whose property uses. But no law the fugitive knows, save of self-preservation, And, with a reckless greed, consumes all the possessions about him; Then are his passions also inflamed: the despair that is in him Out of his heart breaks forth, and takes shape in criminal action. Nothing is further held sacred; but all is for plunder. His craving Turns in fury on woman, and pleasure is changed into horror. Death he sees everywhere round him, and madly enjoys his last moments, "Taking delight in blood, in the shrieking of anguish exulting. Thereupon fiercely arose in our men the stern resolution What had been lost to avenge, and defend whate'er was remaining, Every man sprang to his arms, by the flight of the foeman encouraged, And by his blanching cheeks, and his timorous, wavering glances. Ceaselessly now rang out the clanging peal of the tocsin. Thought of no danger to come restrained their furious anger. Quick into weapons of war the husbandman's peaceful utensils All were converted; dripped with blood the scythe and the ploughshare. Quarter was shown to none: the enemy fell without mercy. Fury everywhere raged and the cowardly cunning of weakness. Ne'er may I men so carried away by injurious passion See again! the sight of the raging wild beast would be better. Let not man prattle of freedom, as if himself he could govern! Soon as the barriers are torn away, then all of the evil Seems let loose, that by law had been driven deep back into corners." "Excellent man!" thereupon with emphasis answered the pastor: "Though thou misjudgest mankind, yet can I not censure thee for it. Evil enough, I confess, thou hast had to endure from man's passions, Yet wouldst thou look behind over this calamitous season, Thou wouldst acknowledge thyself how much good thou also hast witnessed. How many excellent things that would in the heart have hidden, Had not danger aroused them, and did not necessity's pressure Bring forth the angel in man, and make him a god of deliv'rance." Thereupon answered and said the reverend magistrate, smiling: "There thou remindest me aptly of how we console the poor fellow, After his house has been burned, by recounting the gold and the silver Melted and scattered abroad in the rubbish, that still is remaining. Little enough, it is true; but even that little is precious. Then will the poor wretch after it dig and rejoice if he find it. Thus I likewise with happier thoughts will gratefully turn me Towards the few beautiful deeds of which I preserve the remembrance. Yes, I will not deny, I have seen old quarrels forgotten, Ill to avert from the state; I also have witnessed how friendship, Love of parent and child, can impossibilities venture; Seen how the stripling at once matured into man; how the aged Grew again young; and even the child into youth was developed, Yea, and the weaker sex too, as we are accustomed to call it, Showed itself brave and strong and ready for every emergence. Foremost among them all, one beautiful deed let me mention, Bravely performed by the hand of a girl, an excellent maiden; Who, with those younger than she, had been left in charge of a farmhouse, Since there, also, the men had marched against the invader. Suddenly fell on the house a fugitive band of marauders, Eager for booty, who crowded straightway to the room of the women. "There they beheld the beautiful form of the fully grown maiden, Looked on the charming young girls, who rather might still be called children. Savage desire possessed them; at once with merciless passion They that trembling band assailed and the high-hearted maiden. But she had snatched in an instant the sword of one from its scabbard, Felled him with might to the ground, and stretched him bleeding before her. Then with vigorous strokes she bravely delivered the maidens, Smiting yet four of the robbers; who saved themselves only by flying. Then she bolted the gates, and, armed, awaited assistance." Now when this praise the minister heard bestowed on the maiden, Rose straightway for his friend a feeling of hope in his bosom, And he had opened his lips to inquire what further befell her, If on this mournful flight she now with her people were present; When with a hasty step the village doctor approached them, Twitched the clergyman's coat, and said in his ear in a whisper: "I have discovered the maiden at last among several hundreds; By the description I knew her, so come, let thine own eyes behold her! Bring too the magistrate with thee, that so we may hear him yet further." But as they turned to go, the justice was summoned to leave them, Sent for by some of his people by whom his counsel was needed. Straightway the preacher, however, the lead of the doctor had followed Up to a gap in the fence where his finger he meaningly pointed. "Seest thou the maiden?" he said: "she has made some clothes for the baby Out of the well-known chintz,--I distinguish it plainly; and further There are the covers of blue that Hermann gave in his bundle. Well and quickly, forsooth, she has turned to advantage the presents. Evident tokens are these, and all else answers well the description. Mark how the stomacher's scarlet sets off the arch of her bosom, Prettily laced, and the bodice of black fits close to her figure; Neatly the edge of her kerchief is plaited into a ruffle, Which, with a simple grace, her chin's rounded outline encircles; Freely and lightly rises above it the bead's dainty oval, And her luxuriant hair over silver bodkins is braided. Now she is sitting, yet still we behold her majestical stature, And the blue petticoat's ample plaits, that down from her bosom Hangs in abundant folds about her neatly shaped ankles, She without question it is; come, therefore, and let us discover Whether she honest and virtuous be, a housewifely maiden." Then, as the seated figure he studied, the pastor made answer: "Truly, I find it no wonder that she so enchanted the stripling, Since, to a man's experienced eye, she seems lacking in nothing. Happy to whom mother Nature a shape harmonious has given! "Such will always commend him, and he can be nowhere a stranger. All approach with delight, and all are delighted to linger, If to the outward shape correspond but a courteous spirit. I can assure thee, in her the youth has found him a maiden, Who, in the days to come, his life shall gloriously brighten, Standing with womanly strength in every necessity by him. Surely the soul must be pure that inhabits a body so perfect, And of a happy old age such vigorous youth is the promise." Thereupon answered and said the doctor in language of caution: "Often appearances cheat; I like not to trust to externals. For I have oft seen put to the test the truth of the proverb: Till thou a bushel of salt with a new acquaintance hast eaten, Be not too ready to trust him; for time alone renders thee certain How ye shall fare with each other, and how well your friendship shall prosper. Let us then rather at first make inquiries among the good people By whom the maiden is known, and who can inform us about her." "Much I approve of thy caution," the preacher replied as he followed. "Not for ourselves is the suit, and 'tis delicate wooing for others." Towards the good magistrate, then, the men directed their footsteps, Who was again ascending the street in discharge of his duties. Him the judicious pastor at once addressed and with caution. "Look! we a maiden have here descried in the neighboring garden, Under an apple-tree sitting, and making up garments for children "Out of second-hand stuff that somebody doubtless has given; And we were pleased with her aspect: she seems like a girl to be trusted. Tell us whatever thou knowest: we ask it with honest intentions." Soon as the magistrate nearer had come, and looked into the garden, "Her thou knowest already," he said; "for when I was telling Of the heroic deed performed by the hand of that maiden, When she snatched the man's sword, and delivered herself and her charges, This was the one! she is vigorous born, as thou seest by her stature; Yet she is good as strong, for her aged kinsman she tended Until the day of his death, which was finally hastened by sorrow Over his city's distress, and his own endangered possessions. Also, with quiet submission, she bore the death of her lover, Who a high-spirited youth, in the earliest flush of excitement, Kindled by lofty resolve to fight for a glorious freedom, Hurried to Paris, where early a terrible death he encountered. For as at home, so there, his foes were deceit and oppression." Thus the magistrate spoke. The others saluted and thanked him, And from his purse a gold-piece the pastor drew forth:--for the silver He had some hours before already in charity given, When he in mournful groups had seen the poor fugitives passing;-- And to the magistrate handed it, saying: "Apportion the money 'Mongst thy destitute people, and God vouchsafe it an increase." But the stranger declined it, and, answering, said: "We have rescued Many a dollar among us, with clothing and other possessions, And shall return, as I hope, ere yet our stock is exhausted." Then the pastor replied, and pressed the money upon him: "None should be backward in giving in days like the present, and no one Ought to refuse to accept those gifts which in kindness are offered. None can tell how long he may hold what in peace he possesses, None how much longer yet he shall roam through the land of the stranger, And of his farm be deprived, and deprived of the garden that feeds him." "Ay, to be sure!" in his bustling way interrupted the doctor: "If I had only some money about me, ye surely should have it, Little and big; for certainly many among you must need it. Yet I'll not go without giving thee something to show what my will is, Even though sadly behind my good-will must lag the performance." Thus, as he spoke, by its straps his embroidered pocket of leather, Where his tobacco was kept, he drew forth,--enough was now in it Several pipes to fill,--and daintily opened, and portioned. "Small is the gift," he added. The justice, however, made answer: "Good tobacco can ne'er to the traveller fail to be welcome." Then did the village doctor begin to praise his canister. But the clergyman drew him away, and they quitted the justice. "Let us make haste," said the thoughtful man: "the youth's waiting in torture; Come I let him hear, as soon as he may, the jubilant tidings." So they hastened their steps, and came to where under the lindens Hermann against the carriage was leaning. The horses were stamping Wildly the turf; he held them in check, and, buried in musing, Stood, into vacancy gazing before him; nor saw the two envoys, Till, as they came, they called out and made to him signals of triumph. E'en as far off as they then were, the doctor began to address him; But they were presently nearer come and then the good pastor Grasped his hand and exclaimed, interrupting the word of his comrade: "Hail to thee, O young man! thy true eye and heart have well chosen; Joy be to thee and the wife of thy youth; for of thee she is worthy. Come then and turn us the wagon, and drive straightway to the village, There the good maid to woo, and soon bring her home to thy dwelling." Still, however, the young man stood, without sign of rejoicing Hearing his messenger's words, though heavenly they were and consoling. Deeply he sighed as he said: "With hurrying wheels we came hither, And shall be forced, perchance, to go mortified homeward and slowly. For disquiet has fallen upon me since here I've been waiting, Doubt and suspicion and all that can torture the heart of a lover. Think ye we have but to come, and that then the maiden will follow Merely because we are rich, while she is poor and an exile? "Poverty, too, makes proud, when it comes unmerited! Active Seems she to be, and contented, and so of the world is she mistress. Think ye a maiden like her, with the manners and beauty that she has, Can into woman have grown, and no worthy man's love have attracted? Think ye that love until now can have been shut out from her bosom? Drive not thither too rashly: we might to our mortification Have to turn softly homewards our horses' heads. For my fear is That to some youth already this heart has been given; already This brave hand has been clasped, has pledged faith to some fortunate lover. Then with my offer, alas! I should stand in confusion before her." Straightway the pastor had opened his lips to speak consolation, When his companion broke in, and said in his voluble fashion: "Years ago, forsooth, unknown had been such a dilemma. All such affairs were then conducted in regular fashion. Soon as a bride for their son had been by the parents selected, First some family friend they into their councils would summon, Whom they afterwards sent as a suitor to visit the parents Of the elected bride. Arrayed in his finest apparel, Soon after dinner on Sunday he sought the respectable burgher, When some friendly words were exchanged upon general subjects, He knowing how to direct the discourse as suited his purpose. After much circumlocution he finally mentioned the daughter, Praising her highly; and praising the man and the house that had sent him. Persons of tact perceived his intent, and the politic envoy Readily saw how their minds were disposed, and explained himself further. Then were the offer declined, e'en the 'no' brought not mortification; But did it meet with success, the suitor was ever thereafter Made the chief guest in the house on every festive occasion. For, through the rest of their lives, the couple ne'er failed to remember That 'twas by his experienced hand the first knot had been gathered. All that, however, is changed, and, with many another good custom, Quite fallen out of the fashion; for every man woos for himself now. Therefore let every man hear to his face pronounced the refusal, If a refusal there be, and stand shamed in the sight of the maiden!" "Let that be as it may!" made answer the youth, who had scarcely Unto the words paid heed; but in silence had made his decision. "I will go thither myself, will myself hear my destiny spoken Out of the lips of a maiden in whom I a confidence cherish Greater than heart of man has e'er before cherished in woman. Say what she will, 'twill be good and wise; of that I am certain. Should I behold her never again, yet this once will I see her; Yet this once the clear gaze of those dark eyes will encounter, If I must press her ne'er to my heart, yet that neck and that bosom Will I behold once more, that my arm so longs to encircle; Once more that mouth will see, whose kiss and whose 'yes' would for ever Render me happy, from which a 'no' will for ever destroy me. But ye must leave me alone. Do not wait for me here; but return ye Back to my father and mother again, and give them the knowledge That their son has not been deceived, that the maiden is worthy. So then leave me alone! I shall follow the footpath that crosses Over the hill by the pear-tree, and thence descends through our vineyard, Taking a shorter way home. And oh, may I bring to our dwelling, Joyful and quick my beloved! but perhaps I alone may come creeping Over that path to the house, and ne'er again tread it with gladness." Thus he spoke, and gave up the reins to the hand of the pastor, Who understandingly grasped them, the foaming horses controlling, Speedily mounted the carriage, and sat in the seat of the driver. But thou didst hesitate, provident neighbor, and say in remonstrance: "Heart and soul and spirit, my friend, I willingly trust thee; But as for life and limb, they are not in the safest of keeping, When the temporal reins are usurped by the hand of the clergy." But thou didst laugh at his words, intelligent pastor, and answer: "Sit thee down, and contentedly trust me both body and spirit; For, in holding the reins, my hand grew long ago skilful, Long has my eye been trained in making the nicest of turnings; For we were practised well in driving the carriage in Strasburg, When I the youthful baron accompanied thither; then daily Rolled the carriage, guided by me, through the echoing gateway, Out over dusty roads till we reached the meadows and lindens, Steering through groups of the town's-folk beguiling the day there with walking." Thereupon, half-reassured, the neighbor ascended the wagon, Sat like one who for a prudent leap is holding him ready, And the stallions sped rapidly homeward, desiring their stable. Clouds of dust whirled up from under their powerful hoofbeats. Long the youth stood there yet, and saw the dust in its rising, Saw the dust as it settled again: he stood there unheeding. ERATO DOROTHEA Like as the traveller, who, when the sun is approaching its setting, Fixes his eyes on it once again ere quickly it vanish, Then on the sides of the rocks, and on all the darkening bushes, Sees its hovering image; whatever direction he look in That hastes before, and flickers and gleams in radiant colors,-- So before Hermann's eyes moved the beautiful shape of the maiden Softly, and seeming to follow the path that led into the cornfield. But he aroused from his wildering dream and turned himself slowly Towards where the village lay and was wildered again; for again came Moving to meet him the lofty form of the glorious maiden. Fixedly gazed he upon her; herself it was and no phantom. Bearing in either hand a larger jar and a smaller, Each by the handle, with busy step she came on to the fountain. Joyfully then he hastened to meet her; the sight of her gave him Courage and strength; and thus the astonished girl he accosted: "Do I then find thee, brave-hearted maiden, so soon again busy, Rendering aid unto others, and happy in bringing them comfort? Say why thou comest alone to this well which lies at such a distance, When all the rest are content with the water they find in the village? This has peculiar virtues, 'tis true; and the taste is delicious. Thou to that mother wouldst bring it, I trow, whom thy faithfulness rescued." Straightway with cordial greeting the kindly maiden made answer: "Here has my walk to the spring already been amply rewarded, Since I have found the good friend who bestowed so abundantly on us; For a pleasure not less than the gifts is the sight of the giver. Come, I pray thee, and see for thyself who has tasted thy bounty; Come, and the quiet thanks receive of all it has solaced. But that thou straightway the reason mayst know for which I am hither Come to draw, where pure and unfailing the water is flowing, This I must tell thee,--that all the water we have in the village Has by improvident people been troubled with horses and oxen Wading direct through the source which brings the inhabitants water. And furthermore they have also made foul with their washings and rinsings All the troughs of the village, and all the fountains have sullied; For but one thought is in all, and that how to satisfy quickest Self and the need of the moment, regardless of what may come after." Thus she spoke, and the broad stone steps meanwhile had descended With her companion beside her, and on the low wall of the fountain Both sat them down. She bent herself over to draw, and he also Took in his hand the jar that remained, and bent himself over, And in the blue of the heavens, they, seeing their image reflected, Friendly greetings and nods exchanged in the quivering mirror. "Give me to drink," the youth thereupon in his gladness petitioned, And she handed the pitcher. Familiarly sat they and rested, Both leaning over their jars, till she presently asked her companion: "Tell me, why I find thee here, and without thy horses and wagon, Far from the place where I met thee at first? how camest thou hither?" Thoughtful he bent his eyes on the ground, then quietly raised them Up to her face, and, meeting with frankness the gaze of the maiden, Felt himself solaced and stilled. But then impossible was it, That he of love should speak; her eye told not of affection, Only of clear understanding, requiring intelligent answer. And he composed himself quickly, and cordially said to the maiden: "Hearken to me, my child, and let me reply to thy question. 'Twas for thy sake that hither I came; why seek to conceal it? Know I live happy at home with both my affectionate parents, Faithfully giving my aid their house and estates in directing, Being an only son, and because our affairs are extensive. Mine is the charge of the farm; my father bears rule in the household; While the presiding spirit of all is the diligent mother. But thine experience doubtless has taught thee how grievously servants, Now through deceit, and now through their carelessness, harass the mistress, Forcing her ever to change and replace one fault with another. Long for that reason my mother has wished for a maid in the household, Who not with hand alone, but with heart, too, will lend her assistance, Taking the daughter's place, whom, alas! she was early deprived of. How when to-day by the wagon I saw thee, so ready and cheerful, Witnessed the strength of thine arms, and thy limbs of such healthful proportion, When thy intelligent speech I heard, I was smitten with wonder. Hastening homeward, I there to my parents and neighbors the stranger Praised as she well deserved. But I now am come hither to tell thee What is their wish as mine.--Forgive me my stammering language." "Hesitate not," she, answering, said, "to tell me what follows. Thou dost not give me offence; I have listened with gratitude to thee: Speak it out honestly therefore; the sound of it will not alarm me. Thou wouldst engage me as servant to wait on thy father and mother, And to look after the well-ordered house of which ye are the owners; And thou thinkest in me to find them a capable servant, One who is skilled in her work, and not of a rude disposition. Short thy proposal has been, and short shall be also my answer. Yes, I will go with thee home, and the call of fate I will follow. Here my duty is done: I have brought the newly made mother Back to her kindred again, who are all in her safety rejoicing. Most of our people already are gathered; the others will follow. All think a few days more will certainly see them returning Unto their homes; for such is the exile's constant delusion. But by no easy hope do I suffer myself to be cheated During these sorrowful days which promise yet more days of sorrow. All the bands of the world have been loosed, and what shall unite them, Saving alone the need, the need supreme, that is on us? If in a good man's house I can earn my living by service, Under the eye of an excellent mistress, I gladly will do it; Since of doubtful repute, must be always a wandering maiden. Yes, I will go with thee, soon as I first shall have carried the pitchers Back to my friends, and prayed the good people to give me their blessing. Come thou must see them thyself, and from their hands must receive me." Joyfully hearkened the youth to the willing maiden's decision, Doubtful whether he ought not at once to make honest confession. Yet it appeared to him best to leave her awhile in her error, Nor for her love to sue, before leading her home to his dwelling. Ah! and the golden ring he perceived on the hand of the maiden, Wherefore he let her speak on, and gave diligent ear to her language. "Come," she presently said, "Let us back to the village; for maidens Always are sure to be blamed if they tarry too long at the fountain. Yet how delightful it is to chat by the murmuring water!" Then from their seats they rose, and both of them turned to the fountain One more look behind, and a tender longing possessed them. Both of the water-jars then in silence she took by the handle, Carried them up the steps, while behind her followed her lover. One of the pitchers he begged her to give him to lighten the burden. "Nay, let it be!" she said: "I carry them better so balanced. Nor shall the master, who is to command, be doing me service. Look not so gravely upon me, as thinking my fortune a hard one. Early a woman should learn to serve, for that is her calling; Since through service alone she finally comes to the headship, Comes to the due command that is hers of right in the household. Early the sister must wait on her brother, and wait on her parents; Life must be always with her a perpetual coming and going, Or be a fetching and carrying, making and doing for others. Happy for her be she wonted to think no way is too grievous, And if the hours of the night be to her as the hours of the daytime; If she find never a needle too fine, nor a labor too trifling; Wholly forgetful of self, and caring to live but in others! For she will surely, as mother, have need of every virtue, When, in the time of her illness, the cries of her infant arouse her Calling for food from her weakness, and cares are to suffering added. Twenty men bound into one were not able to bear such a burden; Nor is it meant that they should, yet should they with gratitude view it." Thus she spoke, and was come, meanwhile, with her silent companion, Far as the floor of the barn, at the furthermost end of the garden, Where was the sick woman lying, whom, glad, she had left with her daughters, Those late rescued maidens: fair pictures of innocence were they. Both of them entered the barn; and, e'en as they did so, the justice, Leading a child in each hand, came in from the other direction. These had been lost, hitherto, from the sight of their sorrowing mother; But in the midst of the crowd the old man now had descried them. Joyfully sprang they forward to meet their dear mother's embraces, And to salute with delight their brother, their unknown companion. Next upon Dorothea they sprang with affectionate greeting, Asking for bread and fruit, but more than all else for some water. So then she handed the water about; and not only the children Drank, but the sick woman too, and her daughters, and with them the justice. All were refreshed, and highly commended the glorious water; Acid it was to the taste, and reviving, and wholesome to drink of. Then with a serious face the maiden replied to them, saying: "Friends, for the last time now to your mouth have I lifted my pitcher; And for the last time by me have your lips been moistened with water. But henceforth in the heat of the day when the draught shall refresh you, When in the shade ye enjoy your rest beside a clear fountain, Think of me then sometimes and of all my affectionate service, Prompted more by my love than the duty I owed you as kindred. I shall acknowledge as long as I live the kindness ye've shown me. 'Tis with regret that I leave you; but every one now is a burden, More than a help to his neighbor, and all must be finally scattered Far through a foreign land, if return to our homes be denied us. See, here stands the youth to whom we owe thanks for the presents. He gave the cloak for the baby, and all these welcome provisions. Now he is come, and has asked me if I will make one in his dwelling, That I may serve therein his wealthy and excellent parents. And I refuse not the offer; for maidens must always be serving; Burdensome were it for them to rest and be served in the household. Therefore I follow him gladly. A youth of intelligence seems he, And so will also the parents be, as becometh the wealthy. So then farewell, dear friend; and mayst thou rejoice in thy nursling, Living, and into thy face already so healthfully looking! When thou shalt press him against thy breast in these gay-colored wrappings, Oh, then remember the kindly youth who bestowed them upon us, And who me also henceforth, thy sister, will shelter and nourish. Thou, too, excellent man!" she said as she turned to the justice; "Take my thanks that in many a need I have found thee a father." Then she knelt down on the floor by the side of the newly made mother, Kissing the weeping woman, and taking her low-whispered blessing. Thou, meanwhile, worshipful justice, wast speaking to Hermann and saying: "Justly mayst thou, my friend, be counted among the good masters, Careful to manage their household affairs with capable servants. For I have often observed how in sheep, as in horses and oxen, Men conclude never a bargain without making closest inspection, While with a servant who all things preserves, if honest and able, And who will every thing lose and destroy, if he set to work falsely, Him will a chance or an accident make us admit to our dwelling, And we are left, when too late, to repent an o'er hasty decision. Thou understandest the matter it seems; because thou hast chosen, Thee and thy parents to serve in the house, a maid who is honest. Hold her with care; for as long as thy household is under her keeping, Thou shalt not want for a sister, nor yet for a daughter thy parents." Many were come, meanwhile, near relatives all of the mother, Bringing her various gifts, and more suitable quarters announcing. All of them, hearing the maiden's decision, gave Hermann their blessing, Coupled with glances of meaning, while each made his special reflections. Hastily one and another would say in the ear of his neighbor: "If in the master a lover she find, right well were she cared for." Hermann took her at last by the hand, and said as he did so: "Let us be going; the day is declining, and distant the city." Eager and voluble then the women embraced Dorothea; Hermann drew her away; but other adieus must be spoken: Lastly the children with cries fell upon her and terrible weeping, Clung to her garments, and would not their dear second mother should leave them. But in a tone of command the women said, one and another: "Hush now, children, she's going to the town, and will presently bring you Plenty of nice sweet cake that was by your brother bespoken When by the stork just now he was brought past the shop of the baker. Soon you will see her come back with sugar-plums splendidly gilded." Then did the little ones loose their hold, and Hermann, though hardly, Tore her from further embraces away, and far-waving kerchiefs. MELPOMENE HERMANN AND DOROTHEA Towards the setting sun the two thus went on their journey: Close he had wrapped himself round with clouds portending a tempest. Out from the veil, now here and now there, with fiery flashes, Gleaming over the field shot forth the ominous lightning. "May not these threatening heavens," said Hermann, "be presently sending Hailstones upon us and violent rains; for fair is the harvest." And in the waving luxuriant grain they delighted together: Almost as high it reached as the lofty shapes that moved through it. Thereupon spoke the maiden, and said to her guide and companion: "Friend, unto whom I soon am to owe so kindly a fortune, Shelter and home, while many an exile's exposed to the tempest, Tell me concerning thy parents, I pray thee, and teach me to know them, Them whom with all my heart I desire to serve in the future. Who understands his master, more easily gives satisfaction, Having regard to the things which to him seem chief in importance, And on the doing of which his firm-set mind is determined. Tell me therefore, I pray, how to win thy father and mother." And to her question made answer the good and intelligent Hermann: "Ah, what wisdom thou showest, thou good, thou excellent maiden, Asking thus first of all concerning the tastes of my parents! Know that in vain hitherto I have labored in serving my father, Taking upon me as were it my own, the charge of the household; Early and late at work in the fields, and o'erseeing the vineyard. But my mother I fully content, who can value my service; And thou wilt also appear in her eyes the worthiest of maidens, If for the house thou carest, as were it thine own thou wast keeping. Otherwise is it with father, who cares for the outward appearance. Do not regard me, good maiden, as one who is cold and unfeeling, That unto thee a stranger I straightway discover my father. Nay, I assure thee that never before have words such as these are Freely dropped from my tongue, which is not accustomed to prattle; But from out of my bosom thou lurest its every secret. Some of the graces of life my good father covets about him, Outward signs of affection he wishes, as well as of honor; And an inferior servant might possibly give satisfaction, Who could turn these to account, while he might be displeased with a better." Thereupon said she with joy, the while her hastening footsteps Over the darkening pathway with easy motion she quickened: "Truly I hope to them both I shall equally give satisfaction: For in thy mother's nature I find such an one as mine own is, And to the outward graces I've been from my childhood accustomed. Greatly was courtesy valued among our neighbors the Frenchmen, During their earlier days; it was common to noble and burgher, As to the peasant, and every one made it the rule of his household. So, on the side of us Germans, the children were likewise accustomed Daily to bring to their parents, with kissing of hands and with curtseys, Morning good-wishes, and all through the day to be prettily mannered. Every thing thus that I learned, and to which I've been used from my childhood, All that my heart shall suggest, shall be brought into play for thy father. But who shall tell me of thee, and how thyself shouldst be treated, Thou the only son of the house, and henceforth my master?" Thus she said, and e'en as she spoke they stood under the pear-tree. Down from the heavens the moon at her full was shedding her splendor. Night had come on, and wholly obscured was the last gleam of sunlight, So that contrasting masses lay side by side with each other, Clear and bright as the day, and black with the shadows of midnight; Gratefully fell upon Hermann's ear the kindly asked question Under the shade of the glorious tree, the spot he so treasured, Which but this morning had witnessed the tears he had shed for the exile. And while they sat themselves down to rest them here for a little, Thus spoke the amorous youth, as he grasped the hand of the maiden: "Suffer thy heart to make answer, and follow it freely in all things." Yet naught further he ventured to say although so propitious Seemed the hour: he feared he should only haste on a refusal. Ah, and he felt besides the ring on her finger, sad token! Therefore they sat there, silent and still, beside one another. First was the maiden to speak: "How sweet is this glorious moonlight!" Said she at length: "It is as the light of the day in its brightness. There in the city I plainly can see the houses and courtyards, And in the gable--methinks I can number its panes-is a window." "What thou seest," the modest youth thereupon made her answer,-- "What thou seest is our dwelling, to which I am leading thee downward, And that window yonder belongs to my room in the attic, Which will be thine perhaps, for various changes are making. All these fields, too, are ours; they are ripe for the harvest to-morrow. Here in the shade we will rest, and partake of our noontide refreshment. But it is time we began our descent through the vineyard and garden; For dost thou mark how yon threatening storm-cloud comes nearer and nearer, Charged with lightning, and ready our fair full moon to extinguish?" So they arose from their seats, and over the cornfields descended, Through the luxuriant grain, enjoying the brightness of evening, Until they came to the vineyard, and so entered into its shadow. Then he guided her down o'er the numerous blocks that were lying, Rough and unhewn on the pathway, and served as the steps of the alley. Slowly the maiden descended, and leaning her hands on his shoulder, While with uncertain beams, the moon through the leaves overlooked them, Ere she was veiled by the cloud, and so left the couple in darkness. Carefully Hermann's strength supported the maid that hung o'er him; But, not knowing the path and the rough-hewn steps that led down it, Missed she her footing, her ankle turned, and she surely had fallen, Had not the dexterous youth his arm outstretched in an instant, And his beloved upheld. She gently sank on his shoulder; Breast was pressed against breast, and cheek against cheek. Thus he stood there Fixed as a marble statue, the force of will keeping him steadfast, Drew her not to him more closely, but braced himself under her pressure. Thus he the glorious burden felt, the warmth of her bosom, And the perfume of her breath, that over his lips was exhaling; Bore with the heart of a man the majestic form of the woman. But she with playfulness said, concealing the pain that she suffered: "That is a sign of misfortune, so timorous persons would tell us, When on approaching a house we stumble not far from the threshold; And for myself, I confess, I could wish for a happier omen. Let us here linger awhile that thy parents may not have to blame thee, Seeing a limping maid, and thou seem an incompetent landlord." URANIA PROSPECT Muses, O ye who the course of true love so willingly favor, Ye who thus far on his way the excellent youth have conducted, Even before the betrothal have pressed to his bosom the maiden; Further your aid vouchsafe this charming pair in uniting, Straightway dispersing the clouds which over their happiness lower! Yet first of all declare what is passing meanwhile at the Lion. Now for the third time again the mother impatient had entered Where were assembled the men, whom anxious but now she had quitted; Spoke of the gathering storm, and the moonlight's rapid obscuring; Then of her son's late tarrying abroad and the dangers of nightfall; Sharply upbraided her friends that without having speech of the maiden, And without urging his suit, they had parted from Hermann so early. "Make it not worse than it is," the father replied with displeasure. "For, as thou seest, we tarry ourselves and are waiting the issue." Calmly, however, from where he was sitting the neighbor made answer: "Never in hours of disquiet like this do I fail to be grateful Unto my late, blessed father, who every root of impatience Tore from my heart when a child, and left no fibre remaining; So that I learned on the instant to wait as do none of your sages." "Tell us," the pastor returned, "what legerdemain he made use of." "That will I gladly relate, for all may draw from it a lesson;" So made the neighbor reply. "When a boy I once stood of a Sunday Full of impatience, and looking with eagerness out for the carriage Which was to carry us forth to the spring that lies under the lindens. Still the coach came not. I ran, like a weasel, now hither, now thither, Up stairs and down, and forward and back, 'twixt the door and the window; Even my fingers itched to be moving; I scratched on the tables, Went about pounding and stamping, and hardly could keep me from weeping. All was observed by the calm-tempered man; but at last when my folly Came to be carried too far, by the arm he quietly took me, Led me away to the window, and spoke in this serious language: 'Seest thou yonder the carpenter's shop that is closed for the Sunday? He will re-open to-morrow, when plane and saw will be started, And will keep on through the hours of labor from morning till evening. But consider you this,--a day will be presently coming When that man shall himself be astir and all of his workmen, Making a coffin for thee to be quickly and skilfully finished. Then that house of boards they will busily bring over hither, Which must at last receive alike the impatient and patient, And which is destined soon with close-pressing roof to be covered.' Straightway I saw the whole thing in my mind as if it were doing; Saw the boards fitting together, and saw the black color preparing, Sat me down patiently then, and in quiet awaited the carriage. Now when others I see, in seasons of anxious expectance, Running distracted about, I cannot but think of the coffin." Smiling, the pastor replied: "The affecting picture of death stands Not as a dread to the wise, and not as an end to the pious. Those it presses again into life, and teaches to use it; These by affliction it strengthens in hope to future salvation. Death becomes life unto both. Thy father was greatly mistaken When to a sensitive boy he death in death thus depicted. Let us the value of nobly ripe age, point out to the young man, And to the aged the youth, that in the eternal progression Both may rejoice, and life may in life thus find its completion." But the door was now opened, and showed the majestical couple. Filled with amaze were the friends, and amazed the affectionate parents, Seeing the form of the maid so well matched with that of her lover. Yea, the door seemed too low to allow the tall figures to enter, As they together now appeared coming over the threshold. Hermann, with hurried words, presented her thus to his parents: "Here is a maiden," he said; "such a one as ye wish in the household. Kindly receive her, dear father: she merits it well; and thou, mother, Question her straightway on all that belongs to a housekeeper's duty, That ye may see how well she deserves to ye both to be nearer." Quickly he then drew aside the excellent clergyman, saying: "Help me, O worthy sir, and speedily out of this trouble; Loosen, I pray thee, this knot, at whose untying I tremble. Know that 'tis not as a lover that I have brought hither the maiden; But she believes that as servant she comes to the house, and I tremble Lest in displeasure she fly as soon as there's mention of marriage. But be it straightway decided; for she no longer in error Thus shall be left, and I this suspense no longer can suffer. Hasten and show us in this a proof of the wisdom we honor." Towards the company then the clergyman instantly turned him; But already, alas! had the soul of the maiden been troubled, Hearing the father's speech; for he, in his sociable fashion, Had in these playful words, with the kindest intention addressed her: "Ay, this is well, my child! with delight I perceive that my Hermann Has the good taste of his father, who often showed his in his young days, Leading out always the fairest to dance, and bringing the fairest Finally home as his wife; our dear little mother here that was. For by the bride that a man shall elect we can judge what himself is, Tell what the spirit is in him, and whether he feel his own value. Nor didst thou need for thyself, I'll engage, much time for decision; For, in good sooth, methinks, he's no difficult person to follow." Hermann had heard but in part; his limbs were inwardly trembling, And of a sudden a stillness had fallen on all of the circle. But by these words of derision, for such she could not but deem them, Wounded, and stung to the depths of her soul, the excellent maiden, Stood, while the fugitive blood o'er her cheeks and e'en to her bosom, Poured its flush. But she governed herself, and her courage collecting, Answered the old man thus, her pain not wholly concealing: "Truly for such a reception thy son had in no wise prepared me, When he the ways of his father described, the excellent burgher. Thou art a man of culture, I know, before whom I am standing; Dealest with every one wisely, according as suits his position; But thou hast scanty compassion, it seems, on one such as I am, Who, a poor girl, am now crossing thy threshold with purpose to serve thee; Else, with such bitter derision, thou wouldst not have made me remember How far removed my fortune from that of thyself and thy son is. True, I come poor to thy house, and bring with me naught but my bundle Here where is every abundance to gladden the prosperous inmates. Yet I know well myself; I feel the relations between us, Say, is it noble, with so much of mockery straightway to greet me, That I am sent from the house while my foot is scarce yet on the threshold?" Anxiously Hermann turned and signed to his ally the pastor That he should rush to the rescue and straightway dispel the delusion. Then stepped the wise man hastily forward and looked on the maiden's Tearful eyes, her silent pain and repressed indignation, And in his heart was impelled not at once to clear up the confusion, Rather to put to the test the girl's disquieted spirit. Therefore he unto her said in language intended to try her: "Surely, thou foreign-born maiden, thou didst not maturely consider, When thou too rashly decidedst to enter the service of strangers, All that is meant by the placing thyself 'neath the rule of a master; For by our hand to a bargain the fate of the year is determined, And but a single 'yea' compels to much patient endurance. Not the worst part of the service the wearisome steps to be taken, Neither the bitter sweat of a labor that presses unceasing; Since the industrious freeman must toil as well as the servant. But 'tis to bear with the master's caprice when he censures unjustly, Or when, at variance with self, he orders now this, now the other; Bear with the petulance, too, of the mistress, easily angered, And with the rude, overbearing ways of unmannerly children. All this is hard to endure, and yet to go on with thy duties Quickly, without delay, nor thyself grow sullen and stubborn. Yet thou appearest ill fitted for this, since already so deeply Stung by the father's jests: whereas there is nothing more common Than for a girl to be teased on account of a youth she may fancy." Thus he spoke. The maiden had felt the full force of his language, And she restrained her no more; but with passionate outburst her feelings Made themselves way; a sob broke forth from her now heaving bosom, And, while the scalding tears poured down, she straightway made answer: "Ah, that rational man who thinks to advise us in sorrow, Knows not how little of power his cold words have in relieving Ever a heart from that woe which a sovereign fate has inflicted. Ye are prosperous and glad; how then should a pleasantry wound you? Yet but the lightest touch is a source of pain to the sick man. Nay, concealment itself, if successful, had profited nothing. Better show now what had later increased to a bitterer anguish, And to an inward consuming despair might perhaps have reduced me. Let me go back! for here in this house I can tarry no longer. I will away, and wander in search of my hapless companions, Whom I forsook in their need; for myself alone choosing the better. This is my firm resolve, and I therefore may make a confession Which might for years perhaps have else lain hid in my bosom. Deeply indeed was I hurt by the father's words of derision; Not that I'm sensitive, proud beyond what is fitting a servant; But that my heart in truth had felt itself stirred with affection Towards the youth who to-day had appeared to my eyes as a savior. When he first left me there on the road, he still remained present, Haunting my every thought; I fancied the fortunate maiden Whom as a bride, perhaps, his heart had already elected. When at the fountain I met him again, the sight of him wakened Pleasure as great as if there had met me an angel from heaven; And with what gladness I followed, when asked to come as his servant. True, that I flattered myself in my heart,--I will not deny it,-- While we were hitherward coming, I might peradventure deserve him, Should I become at last the important stay of the household. Now I, alas! for the first time see what risk I was running, When I would make my home so near to the secretly loved one; Now for the first time feel how far removed a poor maiden Is from an opulent youth, no matter how great her deserving. All this I now confess, that my heart ye may not misinterpret, In that 'twas hurt by a chance to which I owe my awaking. Hiding my secret desires, this dread had been ever before me, That at some early day he would bring him a bride to his dwelling; And ah, how could I then my inward anguish have suffered! Happily I have been warned, and happily now has my bosom Been of its secret relieved, while yet there is cure for the evil. But no more; I have spoken; and now shall nothing detain me Longer here in a house where I stay but in shame and confusion, Freely confessing my love and that foolish hope that I cherished. Not the night which abroad is covered with lowering storm clouds; Not the roll of the thunder--I hear its peal--shall deter me; Not the pelt of the rain which without is beating in fury; Neither the blustering tempest; for all these things have I suffered During our sorrowful flight, and while the near foe was pursuing. Now I again go forth, as I have so long been accustomed, Carried away by the whirl of the times, and from every thing parted. Fare ye well! I tarry no longer; all now is over." Thus she spoke and back to the door she hastily turned her, Still bearing under her arm, as she with her had brought it, her bundle. But with both of her arms the mother seized hold of the maiden, Clasping her round the waist, and exclaiming, amazed and bewildered: "Tell me, what means all this? and these idle tears, say, what mean they? I will not let thee depart: thou art the betrothed of my Hermann." But still the father stood, observing the scene with displeasure, Looked on the weeping girl, and said in a tone of vexation: "This then must be the return that I get for all my indulgence, That at the close of the day this most irksome of all things should happen! For there is naught I can tolerate less than womanish weeping, Violent outcries, which only involve in disorder and passion, What with a little of sense had been more smoothly adjusted. Settle the thing for yourselves: I'm going to bed; I've no patience Longer to be a spectator of these your marvellous doings." Quickly he turned as he spoke, and hastened to go to the chamber Where he was wonted to rest, and his marriage bed was kept standing, But he was held by his son, who said in a tone of entreaty: "Father, hasten not from us, and be thou not wroth with the maiden. I, only I, am to blame as the cause of all this confusion, Which by his dissimulation our friend unexpectedly heightened. Speak, O worthy sir; for to thee my cause I intrusted. Heap not up sorrow and anger, but rather let all this be ended; For I could hold thee never again in such high estimation, If thou shouldst show but delight in pain, not superior wisdom." Thereupon answered and said the excellent clergyman, smiling: "Tell me, what other device could have drawn this charming confession Out of the good maiden's lips, and thus have revealed her affection? Has not thy trouble been straightway transformed into gladness and rapture? Therefore speak up for thyself; what need of the tongue of another?" Thereupon Hermann came forward, and spoke in these words of affection: "Do not repent of thy tears, nor repent of these passing distresses; For they complete my joy, and--may I not hope it-thine also? Not to engage the stranger, the excellent maid, as a servant, Unto the fountain I came; but to sue for thy love I came thither. Only, alas! my timorous look could thy heart's inclination Nowise perceive; I read in thine eyes of nothing but kindness, As from the fountain's tranquil mirror thou gavest me greeting. Might I but bring thee home, the half of my joy was accomplished. But thou completest it unto me now; oh, blest be thou for it!" Then with a deep emotion the maiden gazed on the stripling; Neither forbade she embrace and kiss, the summit of rapture, When to a loving pair they come as the longed-for assurance, Pledge of a lifetime of bliss, that appears to them now never-ending. Unto the others, meanwhile, the pastor had made explanation. But with feeling and grace the maid now advanced to the father, Bent her before him, and kissing the hand he would fain have withholden, Said: "Thou wilt surely be just and forgive one so startled as I was, First for my tears of distress, and now for the tears of my gladness. That emotion forgive me, and oh! forgive me this also. For I can scarce comprehend the happiness newly vouchsafed me. Yes, let that first vexation of which I, bewildered, was guilty Be too the last. Whatever the maid of affectionate service Faithfully promised, shall be to thee now performed by the daughter." Straightway then, concealing his tears, the father embraced her, Cordially, too, the mother came forward and kissed her with fervor, Pressing her hands in her own: the weeping women were silent. Thereupon quickly he seized, the good and intelligent pastor, First the father's hand, and the wedding-ring drew from his finger,-- Not so easily either: the finger was plump and detained it,-- Next took the mother's ring also, and with them betrothed he the children, Saying: "These golden circlets once more their office performing Firmly a tie shall unite, which in all things shall equal the old one, Deeply is this young man imbued with love of the maiden, And, as the maiden confesses, her heart is gone out to him also. Here do I therefore betroth you and bless for the years that are coming, With the consent of the parents, and having this friend as a witness." Then the neighbor saluted at once, and expressed his good wishes; But when the clergyman now the golden circlet was drawing Over the maiden's hand, he observed with amazement the other, Which had already by Hermann been anxiously marked at the fountain. And with a kindly raillery thus thereupon he addressed her: "So, then thy second betrothal is this? let us hope the first bridegroom May not appear at the altar, and so prohibit the marriage." But she, answering, said: "Oh, let me to this recollection Yet one moment devote; for so much is due the good giver, Him who bestowed it at parting, and never came back to his kindred. All that should come he foresaw, when in haste the passion for freedom, When a desire in the newly changed order of things to be working, Urged him onward to Paris, where chains and death he encountered. 'Fare thee well,' were his words; 'I go, for all is in motion Now for a time on the earth, and every thing seems to be parting. E'en in the firmest states fundamental laws are dissolving; Property falls away from the hand of the ancient possessor; Friend is parted from friend; and so parts lover from lover. Here I leave thee, and where I shall find thee again, or if ever, Who can tell? Perhaps these words are our last ones together. Man's but a stranger here on the earth, we are told and with reason; And we are each of us now become more of strangers than ever. Ours no more is the soil, and our treasures are all of them changing: Silver and gold are melting away from their time-honored patterns. All is in motion as though the already-shaped world into chaos Meant to resolve itself backward into night, and to shape itself over. Mine thou wilt keep thine heart, and should we be ever united Over the ruins of earth, it will be as newly made creatures, Beings transformed and free, no longer dependent on fortune; For can aught fetter the man who has lived through days such as these are! But if it is not to be, that, these dangers happily over, Ever again we be granted the bliss of mutual embraces, Oh, then before thy thoughts so keep my hovering image That with unshaken mind thou be ready for good or for evil! Should new ties allure thee again, and a new habitation, Enter with gratitude into the joys that fate shall prepare thee; Love those purely who love thee; be grateful to them who show kindness. But thine uncertain foot should yet be planted but lightly, For there is lurking the twofold pain of a new separation. Blessings attend thy life; but value existence no higher Than thine other possessions, and all possessions are cheating!' Thus spoke the noble youth, and never again I beheld him. Meanwhile I lost my all, and a thousand times thought of his warning. Here, too, I think of his words, when love is sweetly preparing Happiness for me anew, and glorious hopes are reviving, Oh forgive me, excellent friend, that e'en while I hold thee Close to my side I tremble! So unto the late-landed sailor Seem the most solid foundations of firmest earth to be rocking." Thus she spoke, and placed the two rings on her finger together. But her lover replied with a noble and manly emotion: "So much the firmer then, amid these universal convulsions, Be, Dorothea, our union! We two will hold fast and continue, Firmly maintaining ourselves, and the right to our ample possessions. For that man, who, when times are uncertain, is faltering in spirit, Only increases the evil, and further and further transmits it; While he refashions the world, who keeps himself steadfastly minded. Poorly becomes it the German to give to these fearful excitements Aught of continuance, or to be this way and that way inclining. This is our own! let that be our word, and let us maintain it! For to those resolute peoples respect will be ever accorded, Who for God and the laws, for parents, women and children, Fought and died, as together they stood with their front to the foeman. Thou art mine own; and now what is mine, is mine more than ever. Not with anxiety will I preserve it, and trembling enjoyment; Rather with courage and strength. To-day should the enemy threaten, Or in the future, equip me thyself and hand me my weapons. Let me but know that under thy care are my house and dear parents, Oh! I can then with assurance expose my breast to the foeman. And were but every man minded like me, there would be an upspring Might against might, and peace should revisit us all with its gladness." 
31314	----	Internet Archive. Transcriber's notes: 1. This book is derived from the Web Archive, http://www.archive.org/details/trumpeterskking00schegoog. 2. The oe diphthong is represented by [oe]. THE TRUMPETER OF SÄKKINGEN. THE THE TRUMPETER OF SÄKKINGEN A Song from the Upper Rhine. BY JOSEPH VICTOR VON SCHEFFEL. TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN BY MRS. FRANCIS BRÜNNOW. _Translation authorised by the Poet._ London: CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. NEW YORK: SCRIBNER, ARMSTRONG, & CO. 1877. CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS. CRYSTAL PALACE PRESS. O Song, at home well known to fame, That German hearts hath deeply stirred And long hath made of Scheffel's name A dear and honoured household word, Go forth in thy first foreign dress, Go forth to Albion's noble land! Will she not greetings kind express, And warmly clasp the stranger's hand? The Emerald Isle will surely give A welcome neither cold nor faint; For on thy pages still doth live The name of Erin's ancient Saint. Across the sea my country's shores As Hope's bright star before me rise; Will she not open wide her doors To one who on her heart relies? Farewell, oh work of vanished hours; When suffering rent my weary heart, Thy breath of fragrant woodland flowers Did life renew, fresh strength impart. Oh Scheffel! may thy years be long! And may'st thou live to see the time, When this thy genial Schwarzwald song Will find a home in every clime. _Basel_, _June_, 1877. CONTENTS. DEDICATION PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION PREFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION PREFACE TO THE FIFTIETH EDITION FIRST PART. HOW YOUNG WERNER RODE INTO THE SCHWARZWALD SECOND PART. YOUNG WERNER WITH THE SCHWARZWALD PASTOR THIRD PART. ST. FRIDOLIN'S DAY FOURTH PART. YOUNG WERNER'S ADVENTURES ON THE RHINE FIFTH PART. THE BARON AND HIS DAUGHTER SIXTH PART. HOW YOUNG WERNER BECAME THE BARON'S TRUMPETER SEVENTH PART. THE EXCURSION TO THE MOUNTAIN LAKE EIGHTH PART. THE CONCERT IN THE GARDEN PAVILION NINTH PART. TEACHING AND LEARNING TENTH PART. YOUNG WERNER IN THE GNOME'S CAVE ELEVENTH PART. THE HAUENSTEIN RIOT TWELFTH PART. YOUNG WERNER AND MARGARETTA THIRTEENTH PART. WERNER SUES FOR MARGARETTA FOURTEENTH PART. THE BOOK OF SONGS YOUNG WERNER'S SONGS SONGS OF THE CAT HIDDIGEIGEI SONGS OF THE SILENT MAN SOME OF MARGARETTA'S SONGS WERNER'S SONGS. FIVE YEARS LATER FIFTEENTH PART. THE MEETING IN ROME SIXTEENTH PART. SOLUTION AND END NOTES. DEDICATION. "Who is yonder light-haired stranger Who there like a cat is roaming O'er the roof of Don Pagano?"-- Thus asked many honest burghers, Dwellers on the Isle of Capri, When they from the market turning Looked up at the palm-tree and the Low-arched roof of moorish fashion. And the worthy Don Pagano Said: "That is a strange queer fellow, And most strange his occupation. Came here with but little luggage, Lives here quite alone but happy, Clambers up the steepest mountains, Over cliffs, through surf is strolling, Loves to steal along the sea-shore. Also lately 'mid the ruins Of the villa of Tiberius With the hermits there caroused. What's his business?--He's a German, And who knows what they are doing? But I saw upon his table Heaps of paper written over, Leaving very wasteful margins; I believe he is half crazy, I believe he's making verses." Thus he spoke.--And I myself was This queer stranger. Solitary I had on this rocky island Sung this song of my dear Schwarzwald. I went as a wand'ring scholar To far countries, to Italia; With much art became acquainted, Also with bad vetturinos, And with many burning flea-bites; But the sweet fruit of the lotus, Which doth banish love of country And the longing to return there, I have never found here growing. 'Twas in Rome. Hard lay the winter On th' eternal sev'n-hilled city: Hard? for even Marcus Brutus Would have caught a bad catarrh then; And the rain seemed never-ending. Like a dream then rose the vision Of the Schwarzwald, and the story Of the young musician Werner And the lovely Margaretta. In my youth I have stood often By their graves close to the Rhine shore; Many things which lie there buried Are, however, long forgotten. But like one to whom a sudden Ringing in his ears betokens That at home of him they're thinking, So I heard young Werner's trumpet Through the Roman Winter, through the Carnival's gay flower-show-- Heard it from afar, then nearer, Like the crystal which of vap'rous Fine materials is condensing And increases radiating; So the figures of this song grew-- Even followed me to Naples. In the halls of the Museum Who should meet me but the Baron Shaking his big cane and smiling, And before Pompeii's gate sat The black tom-cat Hiddigeigei. Purring, quoth he: "Leave all study; What is all this ancient rubbish, E'en that dog there in mosaic In the tragic Poet's dwelling, In comparison with me--the Epic type of all cat-nature?" This I could no longer stand, so Now began this ghost to banish. From the brother of the lovely Luisella, from the crooked Cunning druggist of Sorrento Quantities of ink I ordered, And sailed o'er the bay to Capri. Here began my exorcisms. Many pale-gold coloured sea-fish, Many lobsters, many oysters, I ate up without compassion; Drank the red wine like Tiberius, Without mercy poetising; On the roof went up and down till All resounded metrically, And the charm was then accomplished: Chained up in four-measured trochees Lay those figures which so long now From my couch sweet sleep had banished. 'Twas high time, too; Spring already Now gave signal of his coming-- Buds were sprouting on the fig-trees; Shots were cracking, for with guns and Nets they were the quails pursuing, Who towards home their flight were taking; And the minstrel was in peril Then of seeing feathered colleagues Set upon the table roasted. This dread o'er him, pen and inkstand Flew against the wall together. Ready now and newly soled were My strong boots which old Vesuvius Had much damaged with his sulphur. Farther now I journey onward. Up, my good old Marinaro! Off from land! the waves with pleasure Bear light hearts and weightless freightage. But the song, which with such happy Spring-born feelings from my heart welled, Bears my greetings to my country And to you, my honoured parents. Many faults are in it, truly: Tragic pathos may be wanting, And a racy tendance; also, As in Amaranth, the fragrant Incense of a pious soul, its Sober but pretentious colouring. Take him, as he is, this ruddy. Rough, uncouth son of the mountains, With a pine branch on his straw hat. What he's wanting in, pray, cover With the veil of kind indulgence. Take him not as thanks, for always In your Book of Love I'm debtor, But as greeting and as witness, That a man whom worldly fortune Has not placed 'mid smiling verdure, Yet can, happy as a lark pour Out his song on leafless branches. Capri, _May 1st_, 1853. PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. Five years, my merry song, have now rolled by Since thou didst venture thy first course to run, A simple strolling minstrel's chance to try, But no great laurels so far hast thou won. In circles of prosaic breathing mortals No praise was given thee of any kind-- Where formal stiffness bars life's glowing portals, Thou and thy kindred can no quarter find. And in the coteries of hoops and laces Few were the readers, fewer still the praises. Not everything suits everyone: the hill Grows different flowers than the vale and lea: But here and there in German homes there will Be found some hearts who fondly turn to thee; Where merry fellows are their wine enjoying With cheerful songs, thy praises will resound; Near landscape-painters' easels thou art lying, And in a huntsman's bag thou oft art found, And e'en of pastors it has been reported To thee as to their prayer-books they've resorted. And many who have taken a young bride To spend the honeymoon 'midst rural scenes, Do like to read thee, sitting side by side; Of happy hours thou often art the means. Then Säkkingen, the fair Black Forest's treasure, Which found at first in thee not much delight, Has by degrees derived from thee great pleasure, And to her heart with love has pressed thee tight. Upon the whole, success outweighs detraction, And thou canst view thy fate with satisfaction. Now that thou wilt a second course begin, I should for thee a better dress prepare, With finer threads the verses' measure spin, Here lengthen out, there shorten with more care, I know it well, right often have I faltered, Some of thy trochees sound a little lame; But the old humour now, alas! is altered, The mood which gave thee birth is not the same. O rosy dreams of youth, when joy abounded, Wherefore so soon by gloomy clouds surrounded! Once more in my dear Schwarzwald I now rest, And near me rush the healing waters out, On high a bird of prey soars o'er his nest, And in the brook are sporting tiny trout. From charcoal kilns the smoke clouds are ascending, With iris-coloured hues the sun embrace, And stately giant pines in rows unending, Like wreaths of evergreens, the mountains grace. A spicy hay-scent rises from the meadow, And honest folk dwell 'neath their thatched roof's shadow. And yet--should I now try new songs to sing, The old accustomed tone I could not find; Too often grief my soul with pangs doth wring, Instead of mirth, scorn filleth now my mind. The world serves idols now, the good ignoring, And truth is silent, beauty hides her face; What is unnatural men are adoring, God is forgotten. Mammon takes his place! The Poet, now, should be a prophet warning, Like those of old, reproving, praying, mourning! 'Tis not _my_ sphere; a mighty stirring song Requires another man, a different art; But though so much prevails that's sad and wrong. One may not quite disdain a merry heart. Go forth, my song, then, as thou didst before, A cheerful memory of life's fresh spring; Cheer up those hearts, which grief made sad and sore, And to friends far and near my greeting bring. Whenever men to nobler aims aspire, Then higher too will ring the poet's lyre. Rippoldsau, September, 1858. PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION. Hiddigeigei, his opinion: "Strange, perverse, are all mankind, Who, when discord holds dominion, In such ditties pleasure find.... Questions which the world are shaking, Now the thinker's mind assail, And no light as yet is breaking, Which solution shall prevail. "Yet our song unto perdition Has not been condemned, I hear-- What a marvel!--an edition For the third time will appear. Which in new dress, not inferior (Of the old nought has been spared), And, with quite unchanged interior, For its third trip is prepared. "I regret that I'm declining, And I fear I have the mange; And I show now, by my whining, When the wind and weather change. Coming storms, when brewing, ever My keen senses do betray; And the atmosphere was never Sultry as it is to-day. "Doubly thus I feel this parting, But thy course must onward lead; Take my blessing, song, on starting, And the cat's well-meant good speed! The green Rhine, the Schwarzwald breezes, Bring with them health, peace, and rest; Such a merry fellow pleases, And is hailed a welcome guest. "Golden Spring, thee still I'm praising; When the trumpet-notes rang out, Then my bristling fur seemed blazing, And bright sparks flew all about; And the trumpet with my growling Then defied Fate's evil doom; Gentle is to-day my howling O'er the hidden future's gloom." _Summer_, 1862. PREFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION. The Boezberg for the Rhine I have been leaving, A home-sick longing stirred my heart within, Once more that fragrant air I would be breathing Again would see the town of Fridolin, As if at my return with joy elated, She lay there basking in the autumn sun, Her minster's towers lately renovated, Reflected in the river, brightly shone; Far to the North, through bluish vapour breaking, The Hozzenwald, a stately background making. From the Gallus-Thurm on the Roman wall erected, To where the ancient convent buildings lie, The well-known gable roofs I all detected, Where often my light skiff had glided by; And where the shore by gravel banks is bounded, A sunny garden's blooming face doth smile; Half hidden by the chestnuts which surround it Lies cosily the castle's graceful pile. To it my hat in greeting I am tossing, As o'er the ancient covered bridge I'm crossing. Unto the dead my steps at first were tending, Unto the graveyard where the Rhine flows by, For many had been called to rest unending, Who once with me enjoyed this balmy sky. The old stone wall I neared with deep emotion, Inscribed with Werner Kirchhof s name and arms, And of his wife a record of devotion, Which, though long past, e'en now attracts and charms. And Heaven's blessing on the pair alighted. By death the same year they were re-united. To the market then I turned. "Are ghosts here wandering. Or is it you yourself who meets mine eyes?" So said the mayor by the court-house standing, Who slowly did the stranger recognise.... Long years have passed since friends were often going To hear my judgments in the dusky court; But though now many heads gray locks are showing, Their hearts are fresh, their memory is not short; And as we never shunned good cheer and drinking, From foaming bumpers we'll not now be shrinking. 'Tis true the Button landlord has been moving Out of his cosy tavern on the Square, But still retains his former skill in brewing, And in his new inn keeps the same good fare. And as around the table we sat cheering Our hearts with kindly memories of old, From many lips I these glad news was hearing, Which please the Poet more than heaps of gold: The Trumpeter, whose story I'd been singing, To young and old more joy was daily bringing. As a vignette the weekly paper gracing He's blowing politics instead of music now; And even more, somebody has been placing My hero on the stage--but ask not how. Could I but see the walls of the new tower, Which now is rising in the old one's place, Embellished by an artist of great power-- The figures of my song devised with grace! Thus might an artist's hand make expiation For the abuse by stage-representation. However, let that go, I am not fearing Whatever purpose thou mayst serve my song; Now that a new edition is appearing, I send my greeting home with it along. On thy fourth tour thou Schwarzwald-child be hieing, Where truth and goodness dwell, there enter in, And preach to those who with _ennui_ are sighing, How innocent amusement they may win. As often as there comes a new edition, "Preserve thee, God!" be ever my petition. Seon in the Aargau, _November_, 1864. PREFACE TO THE FIFTIETH EDITION. The Trumpeter now, all alive and refreshed, To the Jubilee loudly is blowing; The present year has both of us blessed, Great favour and lustre bestowing. I have my fiftieth year attained, Through joy and through sorrow surviving, And his editions--such fame has he gained-- At the fiftieth are now arriving. It may be that I a part of my youth And joy with him have been leaving; But still from these scenes--to tell the truth-- Great pleasure I now am receiving. To the Eggberg I climbed, where on high are seen The homes of the Hauenstein peasant; Their straw-thatched roofs with mosses still green, But no more quaint costumes at present. Through gaps in the forest I see shining bright The snow-peaks of Switzerland's Giants, The steep Finsteraarhorn's towering height The Jungfrau dazzling with diamonds; And as to the west I turn my gaze, Blue ridge above ridge is unfolding: And, in the evening's golden haze, I'm the Vosges' great Belchen beholding. When now to Säkkingen downward I hie, Through the dark green forest is gleaming The silvery lake, like the earth's clear eye, Looking upward, invitingly beaming. Gneiss rocks high o'er the grassy shore rise; And placed so as best to show it, Inscribed on a rock this meets mine eyes: "Säkkingen, the town, to her Poet!" And now, as by Bally's castle I stand, There my Trumpeter also stands blowing, Cast finely in bronze by a master's hand. That they know us well here all are showing; For, when I was going to pay at the inn, The kind hostess refused quite indignant. 'Tis clear, in the town of St. Fridolin, O'er us a bright star shines benignant. The Trumpeter bravely has blown his way Through much that his patience was tasking; And the publisher also his joy doth betray: For the author's likeness he's asking. Accept then this book, my friends, as before, With kind and growing affection; When the Schwarzwald's Poet shall be no more, Still hold him in fond recollection. Carlsruhe, _October_, 1876. THE TRUMPETER OF SÄKKINGEN. FIRST PART. HOW YOUNG WERNER RODE INTO THE SCHWARZWALD. To the Schwarzwald soars my song, up To the Feldberg, where the last small Cluster of its comrade mountains Toward the south are boldly looking, And, all mailed in fir-tree armour, Keep good watch there on the Rhine. Be thou greeted, peaceful forest! Be ye greeted, ancient pine-trees, Ye, who oft beneath your shadow Me, the weary one, have sheltered. Oddly twisted, spread your roots down Deep within the earth's vast bowels, Strength from out those depths imbibing, While to us is closed the entrance. And you envy not a transient Human being's transient doings. Only smile;--his feast at Christmas You adorn with your young scions. In your sturdy trunks lives also Conscious life-sustaining power. Resin through your veins is coursing; And your dreamy thoughts are surging Slow and heavy, upward, downward. Oft I saw the clear and gummy Tears which from your bark were oozing, When a woodman's wanton axe-stroke Rudely felled some loved companion. Oft I heard your topmost summits Spirit-like together whisper. Then there breathed throughout my soul a Sweet mysterious solemn dreaming. Don't find fault then, if my song now Soars within the forest shades. 'Twas in March: still played the Winter Masquerade; the branches, laden With fantastical ice-crystals, To the ground were lowly drooping; Here and there, out of Earth's bosom Tender plants their heads were thrusting-- Wood-anemones and cowslips. As the patriarch, old Noah, At the time of the great Deluge, Sent the dove to reconnoitre: So with winter's ice sore burdened, With impatience sends the Earth forth These first flowers with a question, Asking, whether the oppressor Has not come to his last gasp yet. Blustering from the Feldberg's summit Now old Master Storm is rushing, And rejoices, through the dark dense Forest he again is blowing; Says: "I greet you, ancient comrades; Why I come, you know the reason-- They believe, poor mortal children, When they see me tearing, snatching Roughly some old hat away, I am only there to frighten. That would be a pretty business, Breaking chimneys, smashing windows, Scattering through the air some thatchings, Tearing some old woman's clothing Till she signs the cross in praying! But you fir-trees know me better, Me, the fair Spring's thorough cleaner, Who what's mouldy sweeps afar off-- Who what's rotten blows to pieces-- Who the earth's domain well cleanses, That his radiant Lord and Master Worthily may make his entrance. And you, noble forest comrades, Who so oft, with bronze-like foreheads, Bravely have withstood my rudeness, Ye whose trunks I have to thank for Many knocks against my skull-bone, Ye alone shall hear my secret: Soon the Spring himself he cometh, And then, when the buds are bursting, Lark and blackbird sing their carols, And with fervent heat the Spring sun Brightly on your heads is shining, Then remember me, the Storm-wind, Who to-day, with boisterous fury As his harbinger swept past." Speaking thus, he shook the tree-tops With great roughness; boughs are snapping, Branches falling, and a thick, fine Rain of pine-leaves crackles downward. But the fir-trees, quite indignant, Took small notice of this homage. From their summits rang the answer, Rather scolding, I should call it: "You unmannerly rude fellow! We will have no business with you, And regret much that the finest Lords have oft the rudest servants. To the Alps begone directly, There is sport fit for your humour; There stand walls of rock all barren; Entertain yourself with them there." Now, while thus the storm and fir-trees Held such converse with each other, Could be heard a horse's footfall. Toiling through the snow-piled wood-path Seeks his way a weary horseman; Gaily flutters in the storm-wind, To and fro, his long gray mantle, His fair curling locks are waving, And, from out the cocked-up hat there Boldly nods a heron's feather. On his lips was just appearing Such a downy beard as ladies Much admire, because it showeth That its bearer is a man, still One whose kisses will not wound them. But not many pretty lips had Felt the soft touch of this beard yet. Which, as if for fun and mischief, Snow and ice now decked with crystals. In his clear blue eyes were glowing Warmth and mildness, earnest meaning, And you could not doubt his fist would Strike a valiant blow, when needed, With the heavy basket-hilted Sword, which, worn suspended by a Black belt from his shoulder, well-nigh Grazed the ground as he was riding. Wound around his riding-doublet Was a sash, to which was tied the Richly-gilded shining trumpet, Which he often with his mantle Sheltered from the falling snow-flakes; But, whene'er the wind pierced through it, Bringing forth tones shrill and wailing; Then around his mouth there played a Sweet strange smile of melancholy. Silent through the forest's thicket On he rode, while often roving Were his glances--as the case is, When a wanderer for the first time Over unknown roads is travelling. Rough the path--the poor horse often In the snow was nearly sinking, And o'er gnarl'd and tangled branches Of the knotted pine-roots stumbling. And the rider, in ill-humour, Said: "Sometimes it is quite tedious, Through the world alone to travel. There are times, 'mid gloomy forests, When one longeth for companions. Since I bade farewell this morning To the good monks of St. Blasien, Lonely was the road and dreary. Scattered here and there, a peasant, Through the snow-storm running swiftly, Hardly did my greeting notice. Then a pair of coal-black ravens, Who with hoarse discordant croakings, O'er a dead mole fiercely quarrelled; For the past two hours, however, I not once have had the honour To behold one living being. And in this lone forest district, Where the lofty snow-clad pine-trees Look as if in shrouds enveloped, I should like to have some comrades. Were they even rogues or gipsies, Or those two suspicious fellows Who escorted the old knight once Through the forest's gloom and thicket; Then appeared as Death and Devil, Grinning in his face with scorn! I should rather ride with them now-- Rather fight them, or play lively Dances for them, than so lonely Thus to trot through this dense forest." All comes to an end, however, Even riding through the forests. Round the trunks it grew much lighter, Storm and snow-clouds were receding, And the blue sky smiled benignant Through the dense shade of the pine-woods. Thus the miner, looking upward. Sees, far at the pit's mouth shining. Like a star, the distant daylight, Which he greets with joyful shouting. Likewise such a cheerful feeling Brightens up our riders face. So he reached the forest's border, And his eyes, so long restricted By dark woods to narrow prospects, Gladly swept the wide horizon. O how lovely woods and fields lay! Green meads in the narrow valley, Straw-thatched huts, low-roofed and mossy. And the modest village steeple; Deep below, where dusky forests Stretch along unto the lowlands, Like a long bright streak of silver, Takes the Rhine his westward course. Far off from the island glisten Battlements and lofty houses, And the minster's two tall spires; While beyond, in misty distance Shining, rise up unto Heaven Snowy peaks of giant mountains, Guardians of Helvetia's soil. As the pallid ardent thinker's Eye doth glow and cheek doth redden, When a thought, new and creative, Through his brain has flashed like lightning, So the golden light of evening Glows upon the Alpine Giants. (Do they dream of throes of labour Which their mother-earth of old felt, When they from her womb were bursting?) From the horse got off our rider, To a pine-tree stump he bound it, Gazed in wonder at the landscape, Spoke no word, but shouting tossed up In the air his pointed cocked hat, And began to blow a cheering Joyous tune upon his trumpet. To the Rhine it bore a greeting, Over toward the Alps it floated, Merry now, then full of feeling, Like a prayer devout and solemn, Then again quite roguish, joyful. Now trari-trara resounded, Echo's voice her plaudits sending From the bosom of the forest. Fair it was o'er hill and valley, But fair also to behold him, As he in the deep snow standing Lightly on his horse was leaning; Now and then a golden sunbeam Glory shed on man and trumpet, In the background gloomy fir-trees, Farther down among the meadows Rang his tunes out not unheeded! There was walking then the worthy Pastor of the neighbouring village, Who the snow-drifts was examining, Which, fast melting with the surging Waters rising o'er the meadows, Threatened to destroy the grass there. Plunged in thought, he deeply pondered How to ward off this great danger. Round him bounded, loudly barking, His two white and shaggy dogs. You who live in smoky cities, And are separated wholly From the simple life of nature, Shrug your shoulders! for my muse will Joyfully now sing the praises Of a pastor in the country. Simple is his life, and narrow: Where the village ends, end also All his labours and endeavours. While men slaughtered one another, In the bloody Thirty Years' War, For God's honour, the calm grandeur Of the Schwarzwald's solemn pine-woods Breathed its peace into his soul. Spider-webs spread o'er his book-shelves; And, 'mid all the theologians' Squabbles, he most likely never Had read one polemic treatise. With dogmatics altogether, Science in her heavy armour, He possessed but slight acquaintance. But, whenever 'mongst his people Could some discord be adjusted-- When the spiteful neighbours quarrelled; When the demon of dissension Marriage marred and children's duty; When the daily load of sorrow Heavily weighed down some poor man, And the needy longing soul looked Eagerly for consolation-- Then, as messenger from Heaven, To his flock the old man hastened; From the depths of his heart's treasure Gave to each advice and comfort. And if, in a distant village, Someone lay upon a sick-bed, With grim Death hard battle waging, Then--at midnight--at each hour, When a knock came at his hall-door-- E'en if snow the pathway covered-- Undismayed he went to comfort And bestow the sacred blessing. Solitary was his own life, For his nearest friends were only His two noble dogs (St. Bernards). His reward: a little child oft Bashfully approached him, kissing His old hand with timid reverence; Also oft a grateful smile played O'er the features of the dying, Which was meant for the old priest. Unperceived the old man came now By the border of the forest, To the Trumpeter whose last notes Rang resounding in the distance, Tapped him friendly on the shoulder: "My young master, may God bless you, 'Twas a fine tune you were playing! Since the horsemen of the emperor Buried here their serjeant-major, Whom a Swedish cannon-ball had Wounded mortally at Rhinefeld, And they blew as a farewell then The Reveille for their dead comrade-- Though 'tis long since it has happened, I have never heard such sounds here. Only on the organ plays my Organist, and that quite poorly; Therefore I am struck with wonder To encounter such an Orpheus. Will you treat to such fine music The wild beasts here of our forest, Stag and doe, and fox and badger? Or, perhaps, was it a signal, Like the call of the lost huntsman? I can see that you are strange here, By your long sword and your doublet; It is far still to the town there, And the road impracticable. Look, the Rhine-fog mounts already High up towards these upland forests, And it seems to me but prudent That with me you take your lodging; In the vale there stands my glebe-house, Plain, 'tis true, yet horse and rider Find sufficient shelter there." Then the horseman quickly answered: "Yes, I'm strange in a strange country, And I have not much reflected Where to-night shall be my lodging. To be sure, in these free forests A free heart can sleep if need be; But your courteous invitation I most gratefully accept." Then unfastened he his horse and Led it gently by the bridle, And the Pastor and the rider Like old friends walked to the village In the twilight of the evening. By the window of the glebe-house The old cook stood, looking serious; Mournfully her hands she lifted, Took a pinch of snuff and cried out: "Good St. Agnes! good St. Agnes! Stand by me in this my trouble! Thoughtlessly my kind old master Brings again a guest to stay here; What a thorough devastation Will he make in my good larder! Now farewell, you lovely brook-trout, Which I had reserved for Sunday, When the Dean of Wehr will dine here. Now farewell, thou hough of bacon! The old clucking hen, I fear much, Also now must fall a victim, And the stranger's hungry horse will Revel in our store of oats." SECOND PART. YOUNG WERNER WITH THE SCHWARZWALD PASTOR. Snugly in the well-warmed chamber, Now before the supper table, Sat the Trumpeter and Pastor, On the dish, right hot and steaming Had a roasted fowl paraded, But it had completely vanished; Only now a spicy fragrance Floated gently through the chamber, Like the songs by which the minstrel Still lives on through after ages; And the empty plates bore witness That a great and healthy hunger Lately here had been appeased. Now the Pastor raised a brimming Jug of wine, then filled the glasses And began, his guest accosting: "After supper 'tis the duty Of the host, his guest to question: Who he is, from whence he cometh? Where his country and his parents? In old Homer I have read oft That the King of the Phæacians Thus the noble hero questioned; And I hope you can relate me Just as many strange adventures As Ulysses. Take your comfort, Seat yourself in that warm corner, Yonder by the stove, which is a Hatching nest of solid thinking; 'Tis according to our custom The narrator's seat of honour. And I'll listen with attention. Still the old man hears with pleasure Of the storms of youth's wild passions." Then the young man: "I am sorry Not to be a proven hero, Neither have I conquered Ilium, Nor have blinded Polyphemus, Neither have I ever thus far Met with any Royal Princess, Who when spreading out the linen Felt for me a soft compassion. But with pleasure I obey you." On the bench he took his seat now By the stove all covered over With glazed tiles much ornamented. From the stove streamed out warm comfort, And the Pastor kindly told him To stretch out his weary legs there. He, however, would not do so; Took a swallow of the red wine, And began to tell his story: "Know, my name is Werner Kirchhof; I was born and grew to manhood, In the Pfalz, at Heidelberg." Old Heidelberg, thou beauty. With many honours crowned; Along the Rhine and Neckar, No town like thee is found. Thou town of merry fellows, Of wisdom full and wine, Clear flows thy placid river, Blue eyes therein do shine. When from the south is spreading Spring's smile o'er hill and lea, He out of blossoms weaveth A bridal robe for thee. Thee as a bride I fondly Enshrine within my heart; Like early love's sweet echoes, Thy name doth joy impart. Become life's cares too burning, And all abroad looks bare, I'll spur my good horse homeward To the Neckar vale so fair. "On the borders of the Neckar I have dreamt sweet dreams of childhood, Also have a school attended, Greek and Latin there have studied; And a thirsty old musician Taught me how to blow the trumpet. When I reached my eighteenth birthday, Said my guardian: 'You, young Werner, With a clever head are gifted, And are somewhat of a genius, And cut out of right material; You must now become a lawyer. That brings office and great honours, Gathers also golden ducats. And already I do see you As the well-appointed bailiff Of His Grace the Grand Elector; And I then must pay you homage. I will venture the prediction, If you act quite circumspectly, Then a seat may yet await you In th' Imperial Court at Wetzlar.' Thus I then became a lawyer; Bought myself a great big inkstand, Also bought a huge portfolio, And a heavy Corpus Juris, And the lecture-room frequented, Where, with yellow mummy visage, Samuel Brunnquell, the professor, Roman law to us expounded. Roman law, when I recall it, On my heart it lies like nightmare, Like a millstone on my stomach, And my head feels dull and stupid. To much nonsense did I listen, How they in the Roman Forum Snarling, quarrelled with each other; How Sir Gaius stuck to his point, And to his Sir Ulpianus; How then later comers dabbled. Till the Emperor Justinianus, He of all the greatest dabbler, Sent them home about their business. And I often asked the question: 'Must it really be our fate then These dry bones to gnaw forever, Which were flung to us as remnants From their banquets by the Romans? Why should not, from soil Germanic, Spring the flower of her own law, Simple, full of forest fragrance-- No luxuriant southern climber? Sad fate of the late-born races! Must read till their brows are sweating, And must try to disentangle Knotty twisted skeins forever. Can't we have a sword to cut them?' "Often, nightly, by the lamp-light I sat poring o'er the Codex, Read the Glossary and Cujacius Till my weary brain was racking; But this zeal brought me no blessing. Merrily would then my thoughts fly From my studies to that time when Old Cujacius' lovely daughter Mounted in her father's rostrum, With her voice sweet and melodious, Read for him his written lectures To the lucky youth of Paris. Usucaption and inheritance, And Novella hundred and eighteen, Changed into a dark-haired maiden Peeping from the Corpus Juris. From my trembling hands the pen fell, Overturned were sand and inkstand, And I caught hold of the trumpet: Usucaption and inheritance, And Novella hundred and eighteen, Wailing in adagio tempo. Flew forth from the study window Far into the starry night. "Yes, this zeal brought me no blessing. I one day went from my lodging, 'Neath my arm the Corpus Juris ('Twas the Elzevir edition, Which at Rotterdam was published) To the Heugass', to the pawn-house, Where the Jew, Levi Ben Machol, With his squinting eyes rapacious, Took it in his arms paternal, Paid me then two golden ducats-- Someone else may now redeem it! I became a saucy fellow, Wandered much o'er hill and valley Clinking spurs and serenading. If I ever caught one sneering, Quickly grasped my hand the rapier: 'Fight a duel! draw your weapons! Now advance!' That whistled nicely Through the air; on many smooth cheeks Wrote my sword so sharp and steady A memento everlasting. I, however, must confess here, That I did not choose the finest Company to wander round with. What I liked, was to sit drinking Up in the Elector's Castle, By our age's greatest marvel Which the German mind has wrought out, By the tun of Heidelberg. A most worthy hermit dwelt there, Who was the Elector's court fool, Was my dear old friend Perkéo; Who had out of life's wild whirlpool Peacefully withdrawn himself where He could meditate while drinking, And the cellar was his refuge. Here he lived, his care dividing 'Twixt himself and the big wine-tun; And he loved it--truer friendship Never has the world yet witnessed; 'Twas as if it were his bride. With a broom he swept it shining, Chased away the ugly spiders, And whenever came a feast-day, Hung it o'er with wreaths of ivy; Sang to it the morning greeting, Also sang the song of evening, And he carved in wood the image Of himself as his best offering. But when sipping his reward then From the big tun's mouth with kisses, Forth he launched in flights of fancy. Often at his feet I listened To his odd and comic speeches: 'There above, they call me foolish, Let them gossip, my dear fellow, Gossip never doth annoy me. Oh, the world has grown quite stupid! How they grope, and how they stumble, Over paths, to find what Truth is; Still in fog they are enveloped. To the first cause of all being We must needs go back, and bring the Last result of our researches In a concrete form together. Thus we comprehend the world well; For this purpose I am drinking Truly cosmogonically. Mundane space to me is nothing But a roomy vaulted cellar, Where as first and central wine-tun, Firmly stands the sun erected! Next to him the rank and file of Smaller casks, fixed stars and planets. As the divers casks are holding Wines of various sorts and flavours, So comprise the heavenly bodies Various spiritual natures. Land-wine this--that Rüdesheimer; But the earth-cask holds a mixture; Fermentation has half clouded And half volatilised the spirit The antagony of matter And of spirit is, by thinking, Blended into higher union. Thus soars my creative genius Far on high, while I am drinking. And when through my brain are rushing Revelations from the wine-fumes, And when then my feeble body Tottering sinks down by the wine-tun, 'Tis the triumph of the spirit, 'Tis the act of self-deliverance From the narrow bounds of being. Thus my solitude doth teach me Nature's everlasting system. With mankind it would be better, Had the great Germanic race but Understood their high vocation, And throughout the world had carried High the standard of the wine-cask, Made of drinking a devotion-- As the Persians worship fire!' O Perkéo! better were it Now with me, if to thy wisdom I had never, never listened! 'Twas a sharp cold winter morning, When down in the cosy cellar We were taking a potation, Talking philosophically; But when I stepped out at midday, The whole world and everybody Looked most strangely queer and funny. Rosy hues lit up all Nature, Angel-voices I heard plainly. On the balcony of the castle Stood surrounded by her ladies, Full of grace, of all the fairest, The Electress Leonora, Up to her start my bold glances, Up to her my daring longing; Clouded was my understanding. Quickly I approached the terrace And began to sing the wild air Which the Palsgrave Frederic once sang, As a love-sick serenader, To his lovely English bride." I kneel to thee as thy faithful true knight, Fair Princess, of women the pearl! Command, and I fight the Emperor's host, Command, and I hold the most dangerous post, To atoms the world I will hurl. I'll fetch thee from Heaven the sun and the moon. Fair Princess, of women the crown! I'll fetch countless stars from yon azure height, Spit them like frogs on my spear sharp and bright, And low at your feet lay them down. Command, I will even become a fool, Fair Princess, of women the prize! Indeed, I am one already I see, The light is far too dazzling for me, Which streams from thy sunny blue eyes. * * * * * * * "Do you hear the trumpets blowing? Do you hear the cannon roaring? There, near Prague, at Weissenberg, now For Bohemia's throne they're fighting. Palsgrave, 'twas a short sad winter! Palsgrave, thou wast sore defeated! Spur thy horse and seek a refuge! "O thou fairest of all women, From my dream what an awaking! For there came to me the Beadle, Summoned me before the Rector. Grimly wrinkled he his forehead, Wild with rage his locks were shaking; Sternly he pronounced my sentence-- His Magnificence the Rector: 'For your unpermitted blowing, For your unpermitted sing-song In the Castle's sacred precincts, You must quit the town and college In three days; by special favour Of our gracious sovereign princess, Further punishment is spared.' "Leave the town now--was I dreaming? No, it was a fact well founded. But before I left the city, All my debts I fully settled, In such cases quite unusual; And I rode on the third morning Out of Heidelberg; the fourth day Out of the Elector's country Unoffended; though my home had Thrust me out--the bolts drawn on me-- Yet I will not cease to love her. And the trumpet, cause of mischief, I hung gaily on my shoulder. And I augur it shall yet peal Joyful tunes to help me onward. I don't know now to what haven Horse and tempest may yet bear me, Still I look not backward more. Cheerful heart and courage daring Knows no sorrow, nor despairing, Fortune has good luck in store. Thus I came into the Schwarzwald.-- My kind host, pray tell me frankly Whether my long tale has made you Feel a heavy sleep approaching. But if not, I'll be most grateful If you'll give me some advice." Smiling rang the good old Pastor Glass to glass, and smiling said he: "Your tale has a lucky ending. I remember quite another, Of a young and handsome carpenter, And a Margravine's allurements. But it ended on the gallows. In this case, I am much puzzled How to give you good advice. In my code it is not written How to counsel such a person, Who with songs insults fair ladies, Leaves his law books in the pawn-house, With his trumpet loudly bloweth To himself a rosy future. But when human knowledge faileth, Heaven graciously doth help us. Way down in the forest-city, There in Säkkingen is a worthy Patron saint of all young people, Is the holy Fridolinus, And to-morrow is his feast-day. Never has he yet forsaken Him who prays for help in trouble; Therefore ask Saint Fridolinus." THIRD PART. ST. FRIDOLIN'S DAY. Lo! a ship comes o'er the ocean, Near Franconia's coast approaching, Foreign sails and foreign pendant. At the rudder sits a pale man, Clad in black and monkish robes. Hollow, like a mournful wailing, Sounds the strange speech of the pilgrims, Sound their prayers, and cries of sailors. 'Tis the ancient Celtic language From the Emerald Isle of Erin; And the vessel bears the pious Missionary Fridolinus. "Cease thy grieving, dearest mother; Not with sword nor with the war-axe Shall thy son gain fame and honour: Other ages, other weapons-- Faith and Love are my sole armour. For the love I bear my Saviour I go forth unto the heathen; Celtic blood impels me onward. And in dreams I've seen a vision-- A strange land and pine-clad mountains, A clear stream with a green island, Most as fair as my own country; Thither points the Lord His finger, Thither sails now Fridolinus." With a few choice Irish comrades, Filled with earnest, calm devotion, Fridolin sailed o'er the ocean; Came into the Frankish Empire, Where at Paris reigned King Clovis. Smiling spake he to the pilgrims: "I had never great affection For the saints and monkish orders; Since, however, the accursèd Allemanic lances whistled Nearer me than I thought pleasant On the battlefield of Zulpich, I have changed my mind entirely-- Even kings will pray in danger. Where you wander I'll protect you. And unto your special notice Recommend the Allemanni: They are stubborn and thick-headed, They are still most dogged heathen; Try to make them good and pious." Farther on the little band went, To the land of the Helvetians; There began their serious labour, And the holy cross was planted At the foot of snow-clad Säntis, Planted by the Bodensee. When descending from the Jura Fridolinus saw the ruins Of Augusta Rauracorum-- Roman walls--there still projected From the rubbish mighty columns Of the Temple of Serapis. But the Altar and the Cella Were o'ergrown with tangled brambles; And the ox-head of Serapis Had been built in o'er the stable By an Allemanic peasant, Whose forefathers had most likely Killed the last priest of Serapis. Seeing this then, Fridolinus Crossed himself and travelled onward, By the green banks of the river. Evening came, and far already Had the pious man now wandered. There beheld he, how the river Flowed in two divided branches; And in the green waters smiling Rose before him a small island, Sack like lying in the river. (Hence the peasants, who are never Over squeamish in comparing, Called the isle Sacconium.) Evening came; the larks were singing Fish sprang snapping from the water; Through the heart of Fridolinus Thrilled a thankful pious gladness. On his knees he sank down praying, For he recognised the island As the vision of his dreaming-- And he praised the Lord in Heaven. Oft, 'tis true, have many of us Mortals in these modern ages Also dreamt of tranquil islands, Where we happily might nestle, And the weary heart refresh with Forest calm and Sabbath quiet. Many also go with ardent Longing on the journey, but when Nearing as they hope their island, Suddenly it fades before them, As in southern climes the airy Image of the fay Morgana. Full of wonder, a wild native Sculled the stranger to the island, On a raft made of rough pine logs. Wild the island: limes and alders In low marshes here were growing; On the shore with pebbles covered, Also stood huge ancient willows; And some scattered huts with thatched roofs. Here in summer, when the salmon Are migrating up the river, Eager fishermen stand waiting With their long sharp pikes to spear them. Unremitting to his labour Went the saint--soon stood his log-house On the solid ground erected; Near the house the cross he planted. When the bell at dusk of evening Rang out far, Ave Maria! And he prayed devoutly kneeling; From the Rhine vale, many people Timidly looked at the island. Fierce and stubborn were these Almains. Once the Roman gods they hated; Now Franconia's God they hated, Who at Zulpich, like a tempest, Had o'erthrown their mighty host. When the lazy master idly Took his rest on winter evenings, And, with eager zest, the women Set their tongues in busy motion, And of this and that they gossiped-- How the jug of milk had curdled, How the hut was struck by lightning, How a youth was badly injured By a boar's sharp tusk when hunting-- Then in warning spoke the crafty Aged Allemanic grandam: "No one else have we to blame but Him who dwells on yonder island-- That old pallid, praying stranger. Trust ye not, I pray, the new God Of the Franks, nor false King Clovis!" And they feared the pious stranger. Once, upon the summer solstice, They all came unto his island, Drank there--after ancient custom-- Mead from their enormous tankards; And they tried to seize the stranger, But he had gone down the river. "We will leave this pallid man, then, Tokens that we've held our feast here!" Soon some lighted brands were flying In the hut of Fridolinus; And they sprang rejoicing through the Flames in singing, "Praised be Woden!" From the distance gazed with pleasure The old grandam, and her face shone Ghastly in the lurid light. Fridolinus, when returning, Saw his hut laid waste in ashes; And he said, then smiling sadly: "Lord, I thank thee for these trials, As they but increase my courage." Then he built anew his dwelling, And soon found an entrance open To the rough hearts of his neighbours. First the children, then the women, Listened to his gentle language; And some of the stubborn fellows Looked approval, when he showed them How in Erin, his own country, They could spear the salmon better; When he sang them ancient legends-- How, upon the Caledonian Cliffs, had raged a mighty battle With the Romans; and how Fingal Overthrew young Caracalla. Then they said: "A strong and mighty God has sent this man here to us; And a good God, for this stranger Bringeth blessing on our fishing." And in vain the grandam warned them: "Trust ye not, I pray, the new God Of the Franks and false King Clovis!" Yes, he touched these hearts so rugged Taught to them the Christian doctrine; And they understood that giving Is more blessed than receiving; That it was the Son of God who On the cross for men did suffer. Hardly had a year passed over-- 'Twas Palm-Sunday--when descended, From the slopes of all the mountains, A great throng, who then rowed over To the isle of Fridolinus. Peacefully there on the island, Sword, and shield, and axe they laid down; And the children gaily gathered For themselves the willow blossoms And sweet violets by the river. From his hut came Fridolinus, Fully robed in priestly vestments; By his side walked his companions Who had come from distant places: Gallas from Helvetia; also From the Bodensee Columban. And they led down to the shore then The great throng of the converted, And baptised them in the name of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. She alone did not come with them To the isle of Fridolinus, She the old and stubborn grandam; And she said: "No new gods need I, As my life is fast declining. I'm contented with the old ones, Who to me are kind and gracious, Who once gave me my dear husband-- My good, noble Siegebert. When'er Death from here should take me, I could never hope to find him; And for him my heart is yearning. In the woods I must be buried, Where the mandrake grows 'neath fir-trees Which with mistletoe are covered. I don't wish a cross on my grave, Shall not envy it to others." On that very day, however, Fridolin laid the foundations Of the cloister and the city; And his work waxed ever greater, And afar throughout the country Was the holy man revered. When again he paid a visit To King Clovis' court, in Paris, On his right the king did place him, And then solemnly donated The whole island to his cloister, And, besides, large tracts of country; Even a great saint became he. Have ye never heard the legend Of the court-day, and Count Ursus, Which the statues o'er the church door Have preserved e'en to the present? A great saint, indeed, became he, And is still the Rhineland's patron. To this day prevails the custom That the peasants have their first-born By the name of Fridli christened. * * * * On the sixth of March young Werner Gaily parted from the glebe-house; Gratefully he shook the hand of The good pastor, who sincerely Wished him a most pleasant journey. And the old cook was completely Reconciled unto the stranger; Bashfully she cast her eyes down To the ground, while deeply blushing, When young Werner, out of mischief, Kissed his hand to her, when leaving. Barking ran the two St. Bernards A long distance with our rider. Bright and warm the sun was shining On the town of Fridolinus; Solemn peals afar resounded, From the organ of the minster, As young Werner through the gate rode. Quickly found he first good shelter For his horse, and then he walked on To the crowded lively market, Went up to the old Cathedral, And he stood with head uncovered By the portal, where was passing Then the festive long procession. Through the war the precious relics Of the Saint had been well hidden In old Laufenburg's strong castle. They had often in the city Missed their presence with much sorrow. Now that peace once more was settled, They were striving with fresh ardour To do honour to their saint. At the head of the procession Came gay troops of merry children. But when they too loudly prattled, Then their old and gray-haired teacher Pulled them by the ear and scolded: "Keep quite still, my little people! Take great care, for Fridolinus May be listening to your gabbling. He, a Saint severe and holy, Will complain of you in Heaven." Twelve young men came next, who bore the Coffin, rich with gold and silver, Which enclosed the Saint's remains. Bearing it they chanted softly: Thou who dwellest high in Heaven, Bless thy people and thy city, Stretch o'er us thy arms of mercy, Fridolinus, Fridolinus! Grant us further thy protection; From all danger mayst thou guard us, War and pestilence keep from us, Fridolinus, Fridolinus! Then the Dean and all the Chaplains Followed after--bearing tapers Came the youthful Burgomaster, Came the town's wise Corporation And the other dignitaries: Bailiff, Revenue-receiver, Syndic, Notary, Attorney, And the old Chief Ranger also. (He came only for decorum, For with Mother Church and Saints' Days He was not upon good footing, Prayed much rather in the forest.) E'en the Messenger and Sergeant Did not then, as was their custom, Take a morning draught together, But joined gravely the procession. Then in dusky Spanish mantles, Ornamented with white crosses, Came the great Teutonic Order, All the Knights and their Commander. Down the river stood in Beuggen The Teutonic Order's Castle Whence at early dawn of morning All these knights had come on horseback. Then came black-robed, grave and aged, Noble ladies of the Convent, And in front by the blue standard Walked the aged Lady Abbess, And her thoughts were: "Fridolinus, Though thou art so full of kindness, One thing thou canst ne'er restore me, 'Tis my youth, so fair and golden. It was charming fifty years since, When my cheeks were red like roses, And when many knights were captured In the meshes of my glances! Long have I done penance for this, And I hope it is forgiven. Deeply wrinkled is my forehead, While the cheeks and lips are faded. And the sunken mouth is toothless." Next the train of noble ladies Came the burghers' comely housewives, At the end the elder matrons. Only one in work-day garments Kept aloof from the procession, 'Twas the hostess from the ancient Tavern of the "Golden Button;" So demanded ancient custom. There--so learn we from the legend-- Stood once in those heathen ages An old tavern; Fridolinus, When he first upon the island Set his foot, had there sought shelter; But the landlord, a rude heathen, Spoke unto the holy man thus: "All you priests are good for nothing, But to vilify our old gods; And you seldom carry even One red farthing in your pocket. So begone from off my threshold!" Now the purse of Fridolinus Had indeed but little in it, And he had to take his night's rest Underneath the shady lindens In the meadow. But the angels Cared well for him, and he found out, On awaking, that his purse was Filled with golden Roman pieces. Then again the Saint did visit The inhospitable tavern, Took a meal, and paid in shining Money what the host demanded; And to shame him left moreover Seven gold coins as a present. Thus for an eternal warning To all landlords void of pity, Although ages had elapsed since, No one from the "Golden Button" Could join in the Saint's procession. As the flowers in the mown field Gaily bloom 'mid dried up stubble, So close by the elder matrons Walked the lovely group of maidens, Clad in snow-white festive garments. Many old men, as they saw them Passing by in youthful beauty, Thought: "Upon our guard we must be, For these maidens are as dangerous As a Swedish regiment." In the front they bore a statue Of Our Lady, dress'd most richly, In a purple velvet garment, Which they had presented to her, As a grateful holy offering, When the weary war was ended. In that lovely file the fourth one Was a slender, light-haired maiden; On her curls, a wreath of violets, Over which the white veil floated, And it covered half her features, Like the hoar-frost in the Spring-time Glistening on the early rosebud. With her eyes cast down she passed by Where young Werner now was standing. He beheld her. Had the sun then Blinded suddenly his eyesight, Or the fair young maiden's beauty? Although others still came past him, Rooted to the spot he stood there, Looking only at the fourth one, Gazed, and gazed; when the procession Turned the corner of a side street Still he gazed, as if the fourth one In the file he must discover. "He is caught!" so goes the saying In that country, when one's soul is By the wand of love enchanted; Love can never be our captive, We are wholly conquered by him. So beware, my young friend Werner! Joy and sorrow hides the saying: "He is caught!" I need not say more. FOURTH PART. YOUNG WERNER'S ADVENTURES ON THE RHINE. Mirth now reigned within the city. Those who early had united In the honoured Saint's procession, Now sat, equally united, Drinking the good wine before them, Or the golden foaming beer. Corks were popping, glasses ringing; Many huge and mighty goblets By the guests were emptied quickly, In St Fridolinus' honour. Simpering with delight, the landlord Counted all the empty barrels, And, with a devout expression, Chalked them all upon the blackboard. From the inn outside the gate, which By the peasants was frequented, Came gay music; for, with legs crossed, There sat, playing on his fiddle, Schwefelhans, the violinist; And in wild and boisterous dances Were the Hauenstein young peasants Twirling round their buxom partners. Groaning was the floor, and shaking 'Neath their feet and heavy stamping, From the walls the plaster falling, So uproarious was their shouting. From afar, with turned-up noses, Many dandies looked on sneering; Yet, within themselves were thinking: "Better, after all, than nothing." The sedate and older people Sat together in the tap-room. As their ancestors delighted To get drunk in Woden's honour, So, in true historic spirit. They for Fridolin got tipsy. Many troubled faithful consorts Pulled their husbands by the coat-tail, When the second and the third piece Of hard money here was squandered; But the husband said quite coolly: "Dearest wife, control thy humour, For to-day all must be spent here!" And he left not till the watchman With the halberd came and ordered That 'twas time to close the tavern. With uncertain steps, ill-humoured, To his mountain-home he totters: And the silent night is witness Of some sudden headlong tumbles. But she covers them with darkness-- Kindly--as she does the beating Which, as finish to the feasting, He bestows on his poor consort. Lonely, far-off from the bustle, Walked young Werner toward the Rhine-strand, Without thinking where he wandered. Still before his eyes there hovered Those sweet features of the maiden Which he had beheld that morning, But now seemed a dream's fair vision. Burning was his brow; his eyes now Restlessly strayed up to heaven, Then he cast them meekly downward, As if asking where to find her; And he did not mind the north wind, Which his locks dishevelled sadly. Through his heart hot glowing thoughts ran Wildly chasing one another, Like the mist, which in the autumn Moves around the tops of mountains In most oddly-changing shapes; And it rang and surged within him, Like the first germ of a poem Growing in the mind's recesses. Also, thus, in bygone ages, By the Arno strolled another Child of man, plunged in deep musing; And he also blew the trumpet, Which, like that of the last judgment, Rang aloud, in piercing notes, through His benighted rotten age. But when he, upon that feast-day, First beheld the wondrous maiden Who his leading star through life was, And to Paradise did lead him; He then wandered by the river, Under shady oaks and myrtles; And, for all the joyful feelings Which within his heart were ringing, He could only find the utterance: "Beatricè! Beatricè!" And thus, after many thousand And still thousand years have rolled by, Others, who with love are stricken, Dreamily will walk the same way. And whenever the last scion Of the Germans on the Rhine-shore Has been gathered to his fathers, Then will others walk and muse there, And in gentle foreign language Murmur the sweet words: "I love thee!" Do you know them? They have noses Somewhat flattened out and ugly; By the Aral and the Irtish, Now their ancestors drink whisky, But to them belongs the future. Youthful love, thou pearl so precious, To the wounded heart a balsam, To life's tossing ship an anchor, Oasis in sandy deserts; Never would I venture singing Any new song to thy honour. I'm one of the Epigoni; And great hosts of valiant people Lived before King Agamemnon. I know also wise King Solomon, And the petty German poets. Bashful only, and most grateful, I recall thy gentle magic. As a golden light it shineth Through the mists of youth, and clearly To our view unveils life's outlines; Shows us where to plant our footsteps, And gives courage to the wanderer. Lofty hopes and timid longing, Dauntless thoughts and stubborn courage, All these do we owe to Love; And the cheerful heart that helps us, Like a mountain-staff, to spring o'er Rocks which lie upon our pathway. Happy, therefore, is the heart which Love triumphantly has entered! But young Werner seemed unconscious Why he thus to-day was strolling Idly here along the river. Dreamily he walked close by it, Heedless of the waves which often Gave his boots a thorough wetting. From the river's depths gazed at him Then the Rhine, who just the battle Of two aged crabs was watching, And with noisy, ringing laughter, Nodded praises, when in rage they Crossed their horny claws together. Yes, the Rhine--he is a handsome Youthful man, and not alone a Geographical conception-- For young Werner he felt pity. Rustling rose he from the water, In his locks a wreath of rushes, And a reed-staff in his right hand. Werner, like all Sunday children, Saw much more than other mortals; So he quickly recognised him, And made him a low obeisance. Smiling then to him the Rhine said: "Have no fear, my dear young dreamer, For I know where thy shoe pinches. Ye are strange and odd, ye mortals; Ye believe ye bear a secret Through the world in lonely musing, And each chafer understands it; E'en the gnats and the mosquitoes See it on your heated foreheads, See it in your tearful glances, That Love holds you in his meshes. Have no fear, I know what love is; I have heard upon my journeys Many false and many true vows Whispered in Romansh and German, Also in the Low Dutch language (In the last oft most insipid). Nightly likewise have I listened Near the shores to much flirtation And much kissing, yet kept silent. Many a poor devil also, In whose heart deep grief was gnawing, In my waves found peace and comfort. When the water-nymphs had gently Lulled him there to sleep, I bore him Off with care to shores far distant. Under willows, under rushes, Far from tongues of deadly malice, Rest is sweet to false Love's victims. Many thus have I so buried; I have also harboured many On the river's deep cool bottom In my crystal water-palace; Lodged them well so that they never Longed for man, nor for returning. "Have no fear, I know what love is. I myself feel something tightening Round my heart, when I the Schwarzwald's Mountains greet, and jump rejoicing O'er Schaffhausen's precipices, Force my way with courage, rushing Through the straits of Laufenburg. For I know that soon my lovely Schwarzwald child, the youthful Wiese, Comes to meet me, bashful, timid; And she prattles, in the rough speech Of the Almains, of the Feldberg, Of the ghosts beheld at midnight, Of sweet mountain flowers, and huge Caps and thirsty throats at Schopfheim. Yes, I love her, I have never Gazed enough at her blue eyes yet. Yes, I love her, I have never Kissed enough her rosy cheeks yet. Oft I rush, like thee, a dreamer, Wildly past old sober Basel, Get quite tired of the tedious Old town-councillors, and ruin Now and then a wall in passing. And they think, it was in anger, What was only done in frolic. Yes, I love her. Many other Charming women much pursue me; None, however,--e'en the stately, Richly vine-clad, blue-eyed Mosel-- Ever from my heart can banish Thee, the Feldberg's lovely daughter. When I through the sands of Holland Weary drag my sluggish waters, And I hear the wind-mills clapper, Tender longings oft steal o'er me For my early lovely sweetheart. Then with deep dull sound my waves roll Onward through the tedious meadows, Roll out far into the North Sea, But not one there understands me. "Have no fear; I know what love is. Ye I know, ye German dreamers Who on my fair shores are dwelling. I, indeed, am your true likeness, Am the history of your nation; Storm and passion, bitter ending, All are pictured in my course. Most romantic is my birthplace, And weird Alpine spirits watched well By my glittering icy cradle, And conducted me to daylight. Strong and wild was I in childhood; Never can the rocks be counted, Which I roaring dashed to pieces, And hurled up like balls at tennis. Fresh and gay I then float onward, Through the Swabian sea, and carry, Unimpaired, my youthful powers Farther to the German country. And once more come up before me All the fragrant recollections Of romance; my youthful dreaming Sweetly then returns transfigured: Foam and surging, strong-walled cities, Rocks and castles, quiet cloisters, Smiling vineyards on the hillside; From the tower calls the watchman, And the pennon gaily flutters, And from yonder cliff is ringing Wondrously the Lurley's song. But, alas! the good time passes; Nought but grief is then my portion; I devote myself to drinking, Pray at Cöln in the Cathedral, And become a beast of burden. Shabby tradesmen must I serve then, On my ill-used back must carry All the Dutchman's clumsy tow-boats. In the sand, to me so hateful, Wearily my way I drag on, And I've long been dead already, Ere my grave, the sea, receives me. So beware of such stagnation! "Yes, I can much more relate thee; I to-day am in good humour, And I love all jovial fellows, Who like thee and like myself face, Gaily with light hearts, the Future. But I'll end this long discourse now, And will give thee my best counsel. I know well that thou art love-struck, Know, thou lovest Margaretta, The old Baron's lovely daughter, Whose old castle standing yonder Is in my green waves reflected. Oft I see with joy the maiden Standing there upon the terrace, And I'll gladly take thee near her. There's the boat and there's the rudder; All the rest may well be trusted To thy own instinctive wisdom." Saying this, he shook his locks, and Dived beneath the water's surface; And the foaming surging waves then Closed the whirlpool where he vanished. And afar rang out his laughter, For, the battle of the crab had Ended now, one lay there bleeding, Of the tail bereft the other. Werner did as he was counselled. An old tower was there standing By the shore, half in the river; And where through a secret wicket To the strand came down the fisher, Was a quiet hidden inlet, Where lay boat and rudder ready. As the boatman kept the feast-day, So without permission Werner Took possession of the boat there. In the meantime evening crept on: Here and there rang from the mountains Clear and sharp, a shouting from some Tipsy peasant going homeward. O'er those distant pine-tree forests Streamed the moonlight through the valley; Bashfully some stars already From the clear blue sky were peeping. From the shore shoved off young Werner. As a horse, when in his stable Long imprisoned, gaily prances, Neighs with joy, when he can carry Through the fields again his master: So shot boldly swiftly downward, On the water gaily bounding, The light boat, and speeding onward Passed the walls of the old city. Soon it gained the ancient Rhine bridge, Which with timber-covered arches Boldly spans from shore to shore. And courageously young Werner Steered right through below the third pier, Laughing, when, as if to vex him, Three times up and three times downward Danced his boat, seized by the whirlpool Soon he now beheld the castle With its gable-roofs and turrets, Shining through the lofty chestnuts, All illumined by the moonlight. Yonder rose up from the river By the shore a bank of gravel, Bare and barren; it was often Flooded over by the river. Out of fun the country people Called it field of Fridolinus. Thither now the frail boat drifted; There it halted on the shelving Pebbly ground. Out jumped young Werner, And he looked with eager glances Whether he could not descry her. He could only see a distant Twinkling light up in the turret; But this wholly satisfied him. Often doth a distant vision More delight bestow upon us Than the fulness of possession; Hence our Song dwells on his pleasure, As he stands there on the sand-bank At that light in rapture gazing. Spread before his dreamy eyes lay Rosy visions of the future; Neither sun nor stars shone in them, Nothing but that light's faint glimmer. From the turret, where it flickered, Love flew forth, on rapid pinions, Noiselessly to him descended, And unseen stood there beside him On the field of Fridolinus; And he handed him the trumpet Which from Werner's neck was hanging, Saying: Blow your trumpet, blow it! And he blew until his blowing Filled with melody the night air. In the depths the Rhine was listening, Salmon, trout, and pike were listening, Water-nymphs were listening also, And the wind the ringing tones bore To the castle tenderly. FIFTH PART. THE BARON AND HIS DAUGHTER. Now, my Muse, thy powers summon! For thy path leads to the Baron And the lovely Margaretta. Now be circumspect and courteous; For, an aged trooper-colonel Might with thee and others like thee Not be very ceremonious; But might throw thee down the staircase, Which is steep and very slippery, And might prove injurious to thee. Now, my Muse, mount upward to the Castle gate, behold there sculptured The three balls upon the scutcheon. As in the armorial bearings Of the Medici in Florence-- Signs of ancient, noble lineage; Now ascend the steps of sandstone, Loudly knock at the great hall door, Then step in and give report of What thou there hast slyly noticed. In the spacious, lofty knights' hall, With its walls of panelled oak-wood. And with rows of old ancestral Dusty portraits decorated, There the Baron took his comfort, Seated in his easy arm-chair By the cheerful blazing fire. His mustache was gray already; On his forehead, which a Swedish Troopers sword had deeply scarred once, Many wrinkles had been furrowed Also by the hand of Time. And a most unpleasant guest had Taken quarters uninvited In the left foot of the Baron. Gout 'tis called in vulgar parlance, But if any learnèd person Rather podagra should call it, I shall offer no objection; Not the less will be its torments. Just this day the pangs were milder, Only now and then increasing, When the Baron, smiling, spoke thus: "Zounds! 'tis evident that in the Long and dreadful Thirty Years' war. E'en this plaguy gout adopted Something of the art of tactics. The attack begins in order; First the skirmishers go forward, Then the flying columns follow. Oh, I wish the devil had them, This whole reconnoitring party! But not even this sufficeth. Just as if I had a fortress In my heart--like guns 'tis roaring. Then it throbs like storming parties, Piif! paif! I capitulate." But just then there was a truce held. So the Baron took his comfort As he filled out of the stone jug His large goblet brimming over. Up by Hallau where the last spurs Of the Hohe-Randen's ridges To the Rhine are sloping downward, Where the vintner, while at labour, Hears the ceaseless mighty roaring Of the Rhine-fall by Schaffhausen: Had the sun with fervent glowing Ripened well the spicy red wine Which the Baron had selected As his usual evening beverage. And, to heighten his enjoyment, He puffed out clouds of tobacco. In his red and simple clay-pipe Burned the weed from foreign countries, Which he smoked through a long pipe-stem Made of fragrant cherry-wood. At the Baron's feet was lying Gracefully the worthy tom-cat, Hiddigeigei, with the coal-black Velvet fur and mighty tail. 'Twas an heirloom from his long-lost, Much-beloved, and stately consort, Leonore Monfort du Plessys. Hiddigeigei's native country Was Hungaria, and his mother, Who was of the race Angora, Bore him to a Puszta tom-cat. In his early youth to Paris He was sent as a fond token Of the love of an Hungarian, Who, though far in Debreczin, still With due reverence had remembered The blue eyes of Leonora, And the rats in her old palace. With the stately Leonora To the Rhine came Hiddigeigei. A true house-pet, somewhat lonesome Did he while away his life there; For, he hated to consort with Any of the German cat-tribe. "They may have," thus he was thinking In his consequential cat-pride, "Right good hearts, and may possess too At the bottom some good feeling, But 'tis polish that is wanting; A fine culture and high breeding, I miss sorely in these vulgar Natives of this forest-city. And a cat who won his knight spurs In fair Paris, and who often In the quarter of Montfaucon Has enjoyed a racy rat-hunt, Misses in this little town here All that is to him congenial, Any intercourse with equals." Isolated, therefore, but still Ever dignified and solemn Lived he in this lonely castle. Graceful through the halls he glided, Most melodious was his purring; And in fits of passion even, When he curved his back in anger, And his hair stood bristling backward, Never did he fail to mingle Dignity with graceful bearing. But when over roof and gable Up he softly clambered, starting On a hunting expedition. Then mysteriously by moonlight His green eyes like emeralds glistened; Then, indeed, he looked imposing This majestic Hiddigeigei. Near his cat sat the old Baron. In his eyes were often flashes, Now like lightning--then more softened Like the mellow rays of sunset, As he thought of bygone times. To old age belongs the solace Of recalling days of yore. Thus the aged ne'er are lonely. The dear shades are floating round them, Of the dead, in quaint old garments, Gorgeous once, now sadly faded. But fond memory blots decay out, And the skulls once more with beauty Are arrayed in youthful freshness. Then they talk of days long vanished, And the aged heart is beating, And the fist oft clinches tightly. As he passes by her turret, Once again she smiling greets him; Once again resound the trumpets, And the fiery charger bears him Neighing to the throng of battle. So the Baron with good humour Of the Past review was holding-- And, when oft he stretched his hand out, Suddenly grasped at his goblet, And a deep long draught then swallowed: Probably a dear and lovely Vision rose up bright before him. Oft it seemed as if his memory Clung to things which gave less pleasure; For sometimes, without a reason, Down there came on Hiddigeigei's Back a kick with cruel rudeness. And the cat thought it more prudent Then his resting-place to alter. Now into the hall stepped lightly The old Baron's lovely daughter Margaretta,--and her father Nodded kindly as she entered. Hiddigeigei's suffering face too Showed delight as cats express it. She had changed her festal white robe For a garment of black velvet. On her long and golden tresses, A black cap sat most coquettish, 'Neath which her blue eyes were smiling With a matron-like expression; To the girdle was attached the Bunch of keys and leather-pocket, German housewife's badge of honour. And she kissed the Baron's forehead, Saying: "Dear papa, don't blame me, If to-day I kept you waiting. The old Lady Abbess yonder In the convent did detain me, Told me many things of import, Wisely of old age discoursing, And of Time, the great destroyer. The Commander too of Beuggen Said such sweet things, just as if they Came right from the comfit-maker. I was glad, when I could leave them. For your lordship's further pleasure Here I am, all due attention. I am ready, from your favourite Theuerdank to read aloud now; For, I know, you like the rougher Tales of hunting and adventure, Better than the mawkish sweetness Of our present pastoral poets. "But, O wherefore, dearest father, Are you ever, ever smoking This bad poisonous tobacco? I am frightened when I see you Sitting there in clouds enveloped As in times of fog the Eggberg. And I'm sorry for the gilded Picture-frames hung on the walls there, And the pretty snow-white curtains. Don't you hear their low complaining, How the smoke from your red-clay pipe Makes them faded, gray and rusty? 'Tis most truly a fine country, That America which once the Spanish admiral discovered. I myself take great delight in The gay plumage of the parrots, And the pink and scarlet corals; Dream at times also of lofty Graceful palm-groves, lonely log-huts, Cocoa-nuts, gigantic flowers, And of mischievous wild monkeys. I wish almost it were lying In the sea still undiscovered; All because of this tobacco Which has been imported hither. I can grant a man forgiveness, Who more often than is needed Draws his red wine from the barrel, And could get, if necessary, Reconciled unto his red nose; Never to this horrid smoking." Smiling had the Baron listened, Smiling he puffed many smoke-clouds From his clay-pipe, and then answered: "Dearest child, you women always Thoughtlessly do talk of many Things beyond your comprehension. It is true that soldiers often Take up many evil habits, Not adapted to the boudoir. But my daughter finds with smoking Too much fault; for through this habit I have won my wife and household. And because to-day so many Old campaign tales through my head run, Do not read to-night. Sit down here; I will now relate thee something Of this much-abused tobacco, And of thy blest angel mother." Sceptically, Margaretta With her large blue eyes looked at him, Took her work up to embroider, Coloured worsted and her needle, Moved her stool then near the Baron's Arm-chair, and sat down beside him. Charming picture! In the forest, Round the knotty oak thus climbeth The wild rose in youthful beauty. Then the Baron at one swallow Drank his wine, and thus related: "When the wicked war was raging, I once roved with some few German Troopers yonder in fair Alsace; Hans von Weerth was our good colonel. Swedes and French laid siege to Breisach, And their camp was all alive with Stories of our daring ventures. But who e'er can stand 'gainst numbers? So one day the hounds attacked us, Just as if wild beasts they hunted; And at last, when bleeding freely From the wounds their fangs inflicted, We were forced to lay our arms down. Afterwards the French transported Us as prisoners to Paris, Caged us in Vincennes' strong fortress. 'Damn them!' said our valiant colonel, Hans von Weerth, 'it was much nicer, Galloping, with shining sabres Hostile lines to charge with fury, Than on this hard bench to sit here, And to battle with ennui thus. For this foe there is no weapon, Neither wine nor even dice-box, Nothing but tobacco. I once Tried it in the country of the Dull Mynheers, and here it also Will do service; let us smoke then!' The commander of the fortress Got a keg of best Varinas For us from a Dutch retailer, Got us also well-burnt clay-pipes. In the prisoners' room commenced now Such a smoking, such a puffing Of dense clouds of strong tobacco As no mortal eyes had seen yet In the gallant Frenchmen's country. Full of wonder gazed our jailors, And the news spread to the king's ears, And the king himself in person Came to see this latest marvel. Soon all Paris rang with stories Of the wild and boorish Germans, And of their, as yet unheard of, Truly wondrous feats in smoking. Coaches drove up, pages sprang down, All came to the narrow guard-room, Cavaliers and stately ladies; She came also, she the noble Leonore Montfort du Plessys. Even now I see her slight foot Stepping on our rough bare stone-floor, Hear her satin train still rustling, And my soldier's heart is beating As if in the thick of battle. Like the smoke from the big cannons Came the smoke out of my clay-pipe; And 'twas well so. On the same cloud Which I puffed there in the presence Of the proud one, sat god Cupid, Gaily shooting off his arrows, And he knew well how to hit right. Out of wonder grew deep interest, Then the interest fast to love changed, And the German bear appeared soon Finer far and nobler than the Paris lions altogether. "When, at last, the gates were opened Of our dungeon, and the herald Brought us tidings of our freedom, I was then still more a captive Bound in Leonora's fetters; And remained thus, and the wedding Which soon took us home to Rhine-land Only made the rivets stronger. When I think of this, I feel that Tears on my mustache are rolling. For what now to me remaineth Of the past so fair, but memory, And the black cat, Hiddigeigei, And my Leonora's image. Thou my child. God give her soul rest!" Speaking thus, he knocked the ashes From his pipe, and patted gently Hiddigeigei; but his daughter Roguishly knelt down before him. Saying: "Dearest father, grant me Your entire absolution. Never shall you hear in future From my lips an observation On account of this vile smoking." Graciously the Baron said then: "Thou hast also been sarcastic At my drinking oft too freely; And I have a mind to tell thee Still a most instructive story, How in Rheinau in the cloister, As the guest of the Lord Abbot I went through a bout of drinking In the famous wine of Hallau. But"--the Baron stopped and listened. "Zounds!" he said, "what's that I hear there? Whence doth come that trumpet-blowing?" Werner's music through the March night, Plaintive soared up to the castle, Begging entrance like a pet-dove, Which, returning to its mistress, Finds the window closed and fastened, And begins to peck and hammer. To the terrace went the Baron And his daughter; Hiddigeigei Followed both with step majestic. Through the cat's heart then swept omens Of a great, eventful future. All around they looked--but vainly. For the turret's gloomy shadow Covered both the bank and Werner. Like the blowing of the moot, then Like the clanging charge of horsemen, Up it mounted to the terrace, Then died out;--a small boat dimly They saw moving up the river. Backward stepped the Baron quickly, Pulled the bell and called his servant Anton, who came in directly. "Gain immediate information Who was blowing here the trumpet On the Rhine at this late hour. If a spirit, sign the cross thrice; If a mortal, greet him kindly, And command his presence hither, For with him I must hold converse." Soldier-like, saluting, turned then Right about face good old Anton: "I'll fulfil your lordship's orders." Meanwhile, silently descended Midnight over vale and city; And in Margaretta's slumbers Came a dream most sweet and wondrous: As she walked to the old minster Once again in festal garments, Fridolinus came to meet her; By his side there walked another, But 'twas not the dead man who once Followed him to Glarus court-house; 'Twas a youth, fair, tall, and slender; Like a trumpeter he looked, and Greeted her with lowly reverence; While Saint Fridolin was smiling. SIXTH PART. HOW YOUNG WERNER BECAME THE BARON'S TRUMPETER. Master Anton started early The next morning for the city, To find out that trumpet blower. By St. Fridolin's cathedral He turned off into a side-street. From the other side there came with Rapid steps the boatman Martin, And they met just at the corner, Bumping up against each other. "'Pon my soul," cried out the worthy Anton, as he rubbed his forehead; "Your thick skull is hard as iron." "Yours is not upholstered either With soft wool or springy sea-weed," Was the boatman's ready answer. "And what business have you running Through the city's streets thus early?" "I can ask the same," said Anton. "I seek someone who last evening From the shore my boat unfastened," Answered him the boatman Martin. "He may be my man," said Anton. "When I came down to the river, There I found my boat turned over On the shore--the rudder broken, And the fastening cut asunder. If a thunderstorm would only Sweep away these wicked people, Who like thieves at night are roving On the Rhine in borrowed vessels." "And the trumpet blow," said Anton.-- "But whenever I shall find him, To the justice I shall take him. He must pay me; even for the Black and blue mark which you gave me, I shall bring a heavy reckoning. It is shameful how this fellow Gives me such vexation!" Thus the Boatman scolding went on farther. "And I do not see myself, why I should take such extra trouble To hunt up this mischief-maker," Said old Anton to himself then. "Seems to me it is already Just the time when honest people For their morning draught are longing." To the "Golden Button's" shady Tap-room turned the worthy Anton Now his steps, and through a side-door In he stepped: he deemed it wiser Thus to hide before the public Such an early morning visit. Many worthy folks already Had there quietly assembled O'er their brimming foaming bumpers. Like red roses shone their faces, And like radishes their noses. "Want a big glass?" asked the waitress Our old Anton, who assented: "To be sure! hot is the weather, And when I woke up, already In my throat I felt a dryness." So good Anton soon was drinking From his large Bohemian bumper, Turning over in his mind well, How he should despatch his business. In the private room was sitting, Just then Werner with the landlord, Who had served for his guest's breakfast A fine slice of red smoked salmon, And commenced with the young stranger An instructive conversation: On the vintage in the Rhine-Pfalz, How the price of hops was standing, How they fared in time of war there. Now and then, to sound the stranger, He threw slyly out some questions, Whence he came and what his business. Still he gained no satisfaction; But quite shrewdly thus he reasoned: "He's no bookworm, for he seemeth Much too martial--nor a soldier Either, as he looks too modest; He may be a necromancer, An adept in all dark witchcraft, Alchemy, and other black arts. Wait, I'll catch thee;" and he turned their Talk to hidden buried treasures, And to midnight exorcisms. "Yes, my friend, here near the city Lies a sandbank in the river. At the time of Fridolinus Heaps of gold coin there were buried. One who knows, a clever fellow, Could there dig and make his fortune." "I already saw the sandbank," Said young Werner, "when I rowed there On the Rhine last night by moonlight." "What, you know it then already?" Said the landlord much astonished. "Have I caught thee?" he thought, keenly Looking at young Werner's pockets, If he could not hear a jingling Of great lots of golden money. "Have I caught thee?" also gladly To himself said worthy Anton. "It is, after all, the right thing Thus to take an early potion." From the spot where he was seated He had heard their conversation; And besides upon the table. By the stranger's sword and cocked hat, Also lay the sought-for trumpet. Drawing near, then, he said gravely: "With your leave, if you're no spirit-- And that seems to me unlikely. As you've just enjoyed your breakfast-- Then the Baron sends you greeting, And invites you to his castle. I will take you there with pleasure." Thus he spoke. Young Werner listened, Half astonished, and went with him. Smirking, thought the cunning landlord: "You will get it, my young master; You believed you had full freedom Thus to rove about the river, Spying out long-buried treasures. But the Baron found you out soon, And will stop your bold proceedings. Now you'll get it, when he treats you, From his amply-furnished stores, to Some of his well-seasoned curses. Like a top your head will spin then, And your ears buzz like a beehive. But this will concern you solely. If he keep you in a dungeon Of your horse I'll take possession; It will well score off your reckoning." Once more in the hall together Were the Baron and his daughter, And again he smoked his pipe there, When the ponderous folding-doors were Opened, and, with modest reverence, Werner entered. "If you only," Said the faithful Anton, "only Knew, your gracious lordship, what a Heavy task it was to find him!" Keenly did the Baron's eyes rest On young Werner, passing muster; By her father, lightly leaning On his arm-chair, Margaretta Bashfully looked at the stranger, And with both the first impression Of each other was most happy. "It is you, then," said the Baron, "Who last night have startled us here With your trumpet-blowing, therefore I should like to speak to you now." "This commences well," thought Werner, And, embarrassed, cast his eyes down To the ground. But the old Baron, Kindly smiling, thus continued: "You believe, perhaps, I shall now Call you to account for having Made loud music near the castle? You are wrong, 'tis not my business; For no license is here needed On the Rhine; if anybody Wants to catch a cold by playing Late at night there, he may do so. No, I only wish to ask you, Whether you would like here often As last night to blow the trumpet? But I fear I am mistaken. You are not by trade a player, May be one of those damned scribblers, Secretary to a foreign Embassy, as many are now Coaching all about the country, Just to spoil all that the soldier's Ready sword had once accomplished?" "Not bad either," thought young Werner; Still he liked the Baron's manner. "I am no professional player," Said he, "and still less a scribbler. As for my part, all the inkstands In the Holy Roman Empire Might dry up without my caring. I am not in any service, But as my own lord and master I am travelling for my pleasure, And await whatever fortune On my pathway may be blooming." "Very good, then," said the Baron. "If it stands thus, you may well hear Everything I have to tell you; But before we go on farther, With old wine it must be seasoned." Cleverly his thoughts divining, Margaretta, from the cellar, Now brought up two dusty bottles Which, with spider-webs all covered, In the sand had lain half-buried; Brought with them two fine-cut goblets, Which she filled and then presented. "This wine ripened long before the War raged in our German country," Said the Baron. "'Tis a famous Choice old wine which grew at Grenzach. Brightly in the glass it sparkles, Like pure gold its colour shineth, And a fragrance rises from it Like the finest greenhouse flowers. Master Trumpeter, ring glasses!" Loudly then rang both their goblets. Emptying his, the Baron spun out Farther still the conversation. "My young friend, you know, as long as This world lasts, there will be people Who are fond of hobby-horses. Some are mystics and ascetics, Others love old wine or brandy. Some, antiquities are seeking, Others are for chafers craving; Many others make bad verses. 'Tis a curious joke that each one Much prefers to choose a calling Most unsuited to his nature. I thus also ride my hobby, And this hobby is the noble Muse of music who regales me. As King Saul's deep sorrow vanished At the sound of David's harp once, So with cheering sounds of music Do I banish age's inroads And the gout, my old disturber. When sometimes in _tempo presto_ I an orchestra am leading, Oft I think I'm once more riding At the head of my brave squadrons. Right wing, charge the enemy! charge! At them now you piercing violins! Fire away you kettle-drums now! In the town here there are many Skilful players--though among them Is a want of sense artistic, And of connoisseurship, only Their good will doth hide their failings. Violin, flute, also viol, All these parts are well supported And the contrabass is perfect. But _one_ player still is wanting; And, my friend, what is a general Without orderlies, without a Fugleman the line of battle, And a band without the trumpet? "Once 'twas different These old walls can Hear him still, the valiant Rassmann, The chief trumpeter of my squadrons. Ha! that was a noble blowing! Rassmann, wherefore didst thou die? "Still as clear as on his last day, Do I see him at the shooting Festival at Laufenburg. His mustache was fiercely twisted, Bright and glistening was his trumpet, And his riding-boots were shining Like a mirror; I was chuckling. ''Tis a point of honour,' said he. 'I must all these Swiss astonish With myself and with my trumpet.' "Clear and cheerful rang out yonder Bugle-horns and trumpets; but as O'er the choir of forest singers Sounds the nightingale's sweet warbling, So above all rang out loudly Rassmann's wondrous trumpet-blowing. When we met, his cheeks were scarlet, And fatigued appeared his breathing. ''Tis a point of honour,' said he; And blew on still. Then were silenced All the trumpeters from Frickthal, Those from Solothurn and Aarau, By the trumpeter great Rassmann. Once again we met, 'twas evening. In the 'Golden Swan' he sat then; Like a giant 'mid the pigmies Looked he in this crowd of players. Many were the goblets emptied By the trumpeters from Frickthal, And from Solothurn and Aarau, But the most capacious goblet Was drank out by my brave Rassmann. And with fiery Castelberger, Which grows on the Aar by Schinznach, He at last filled up his trumpet. ''Tis a point of honour,' said he; Drank it out at one long swallow. 'To your health my worthy colleagues! Thus drinks trumpet-blower Rassmann.' Midnight had already passed by, Under tables lay some snoring, But with steady step and upright Started Rassmann from the tavern. On the Rhine with mocking humour He poured forth a roguish tune yet, Then a misstep! Poor, poor Rassmann! Straight he fell into the river, And the Rhine's tremendous whirlpool Thundered foaming and engulfed him, Him the bravest trumpet-blower. Ha! that was a noble blowing! Rassmann, wherefore didst thou die?" Deeply moved the Baron told this; Then continued after pausing: "My young friend, and think, last evening On the Rhine a trumpet rang out Like a greeting from his spirit, And a tune I heard performed there, Such a wilderness of sounds, and Played in Rassmann's finest manner. If we only had that trumpet, Then the gap would be filled up well. And once more I'd lead a full band, As it were to frays of music. Therefore hear now my proposal: Stay with us here in my castle. Paralysed is now the music In the forest-city, blow then New life into her old bones." Thoughtfully spoke then young Werner: "Noble lord, you do me honour, But I nourish a misgiving. Slim and straight have I thus grown up, Have not learnt the art of bending My proud back in any service." Said the Baron: "Take no trouble On that head; because the service Of the arts enslaves nobody. Only want of understanding Makes one lose one's independence. Be assured, nought is required Of you but some merry music. Only, if in idle moments You would write for me a letter, Or with my accounts would help me, I should thank you; for an ancient Soldier finds the pen a burden." Still young Werner hesitated; But a glance at Margaretta, And the clouds of doubt all vanished. "Noble lord," he said, "I'll stay then, On the Rhine shall be my home now!" "Bravo!" said the Baron kindly. "From the prompting of the moment Have the best results proceeded; Evil springs from hesitation. Master Trumpeter ring glasses! With the golden wine of Grenzach, With a hearty grasp of hands thus Let us seal our new-made contract." Turning then to Margaretta: "I present to you, my daughter, This new member of our household." Then young Werner's silent greeting Was returned by Margaretta. "Follow me now through the castle, My young friend, that I may show you Where you will abide in future. In the tower there I have the Very room for a musician, O'er the Rhine and mountains looking; And the radiant morning sun will Wake you early from your slumber. There you cosily can nestle. And the trumpet will sound well there." From the hall they both proceeded. From the hall the Baron's daughter Also went, and in the garden Gathered cowslips and sweet violets, Also other fragrant flowers, Speaking to herself: "How lonely Must the young man feel here, coming Thus to dwell with utter strangers! And, besides, the tower-room looks With its whitewashed walls so naked, That I think my pretty nosegay Will do much for its adornment." SEVENTH PART. THE EXCURSION TO THE MOUNTAIN LAKE. Azure heavens, glowing sunlight, Bees' low humming, larks' gay carols, Clear as glass the Rhine's green waters. On the mountains snow is melting, In the valleys blossom fruit trees, May begins his reign at last. In the path before the hall door Hiddigeigei took his comfort, Caring only that the sun's rays On his fur should fall and warm him. Through the garden walked the Baron With his daughter, and with pleasure He beheld the trees in blossom. "If my life should be preserved still For a hundred years or longer, I should always be delighted With this wonder-breathing May-time. True, indeed, I set no value On the May-dew, though the women Like to wet with it their faces. I have never seen a soul yet Who by it improved her beauty; Have no faith in arts of witchcraft In the night of St. Walpurgis, Nor in broomstick-riding squadrons. Notwithstanding there belongs a Magic to the month of May. My old weary bones have suffered Many painful gouty twinges From the chilly winds of April. Now these pains are quite forgotten, And I feel as if the old strength Of my youth were through me streaming, And as if I were once more a Beardless trim and gay young ensign, In those days when at Noerdlingen I fought fiercely, in close combat With those brave blue Swedish horseman. So I think, it would be pleasant To agree, this is a feast-day, Though no Saint has ever claimed it. Let us saunter through the forest. I will breathe the balmy pine air, And the young folks may try whether Fortune favours them at fishing. Yes, to-day I yearn for pleasure. Anton, get the horses ready." So 'twas done as he had ordered. In the court, filled with impatience, Pawed and neighed the fiery horses. Full of joyful expectation For the sport were the young people. Bent on fishing they had carried The great net up from the river. Worthy Anton had invited Many friends of the old Baron, Also had communicated With the ladies of the convent; And, besides, some uninvited Guests had also here assembled. When the landlord of the "Button" Heard the news, he to his wife said: "To thy care I trust entirely All the business of the tavern; In thy hands I lay the keys now Of the cellar and the larder, I must join the fishing-party." Speaking thus he stole off quickly; Ne'er he missed a hunt or fishing. Strong and hearty looked the Baron, On his charger firmly seated Like a bronze equestrian statue. By his side on her white palfrey Rode the lovely Margaretta. Gracefully to her slim figure Clung in folds her riding-habit; Gracefully the blue veil floated From her riding-hat of velvet. With a steady hand she boldly Reined her palfrey, who was bearing With delight so fair a burden. Watchfully good Anton followed His fair mistress; also Werner After them was gaily trotting, Though at a respectful distance. For, behind, in solemn grandeur, Came the big old-fashioned carriage Of the Lady Princess Abbess, With three ladies of the convent, Likewise old and venerable. They by Werner were escorted. He made many courtly speeches To these old and noble ladies, And broke many flowering branches From the trees, and most politely Handed them into the carriage; So that, struck with his fine manners, They unto each other whispered: "What a pity he's not noble!" Up hill steep the road ascended, And the forest of dark pine-trees Now received the long procession. Soon then through the dusky branches Silver like the mountain-lake shone, And already merry shouting Came from thence; for the young people Of the town had gained the lake-shore By a shorter steeper path. At the summit, where the main-road Took a different direction, Carriages and riders halted, And the vehicles and horses To the servants' care were left. Full of vigour, through the forest, Down the hill-slope walked the Baron, And the ladies followed bravely. Mosses like the softest velvet Thickly covered all the ground there, And descending was not dangerous. On a ridge, which wide and sunny, Far into the lake protruded, Numerous blocks of rock lay scattered. There the Baron rested, and the Ladies followed his example. Deep green lake, dense shade of fir-trees, Many thousand times I greet you. I who now this song am singing Of the past, rejoice in you still. Oh, how oft ye have refreshed me, When escaping from the daily Narrowness of petty town life, Out to you I used to wander. Often on the rock I've rested, Which the roots of the old pine-trees Cling to, while beneath the lake lies With its gently rippled surface. In deep shade the shores lie buried, But the glittering rays of sunlight Gaily dance across the water. All around reigned holy silence, Only heard there was the hammering Of the pecker on the pine-trees. Through the fallen leaves and mosses Rustled softly emerald lizards, And with clever questioning glances Curiously they eyed the stranger. Yes, I often lay there dreaming; And when often still at night-fall I sat there, I heard a rustling Through the reeds, the water-lilies Whispered softly to each other. Then arose from the deep water Mermaids, whose fair pallid faces Brightly shone in the soft moonlight. Heart overwhelming, mind bewildering, Were their gliding graceful motions; And they beckoned me to come there. But the fir-tree held and warned me: "Stay thou here on terra firma, Hast no business in the water." Deep green lake, dense shade of fir-trees, Oft I think of you quite sadly. Since those days I've been a wanderer: I have climbed up many mountains, And through many lands have travelled, Looked upon the restless ocean, And have heard the Sirens singing; But yet often through my memory Steal the lake's sweet soothing murmurs, And soft whispers from the fir-trees, Home, and love, and youth recalling. Now there was a noisy thronging, Running, shouting, laughing, joking, Down beneath there on the shore. Like a general, stood the cunning, Skilful landlord of the "Button," 'Mid the crowd of younger people, And on every side was giving His wise counsels, how they might now Have a good successful fishing. There behind the rocks a boat lay In the reeds with brushwood covered, And with chains securely fastened, That no poachers should disturb it, Who might come along at midnight, And employ it for their fishing. From its hiding-place they dragged it Onward to the lake-shore, and there Placed the heavy net within it. Closely netted were the meshes Of the coarsest twine, while many Leaden weights thereon were fastened. When they tried the boat for leakage, Although somewhat out of order, They pronounced it quite seaworthy. Now the landlord and five comrades, Gay and hopeful, took their places, And one end of the great net threw To some friends on shore remaining, With the charge to hold it tightly. From the shore they pushed away now, Rowing stoutly as the net sank Slowly down in a wide curve; Then returned with speed much lessened, Always dragging on the heavy Bulky net, so that the fishes Might therein become entangled. On the shore they sprang out quickly, And drew after them the netting, Till they nigh approached those friends who Still upon the shore were waiting. Stoutly pulling back the ends, they Raised the net out of the water, In great hopes of lots of booty. But within itself entangled It came slowly to the surface Empty: some unskilful rower Had prevented it from sinking, And the dwellers of the lake laughed To have just escaped such danger. Now the landlord cast sharp glances Over all the meshes. Nothing Met his anxious gaze but water; Not the smallest fish was caught there; Only an old boot half rotten, And a toad half crushed and flattened, Which with eyes protruding oddly Looked upon the sunlit forest, And the human faces round him, And he thought: "It is most truly Wonderful, how anybody Ever can enjoy existence, With this sky and this bright sunlight! Well, it seems to me no one here E'er can have the slightest notion Of the mud and all its splendour. Would I were in my own element!" Those who stood upon the lake-shore Raised a long and roaring laughter At these first-fruits of the fishing. But in rage broke out the landlord, O'er their laughter rang his scolding: "Stupid fellows, bunglers, numskulls!" And with angry kicks he sent then All the booty flying swiftly, Boot and toad in peace together To the water where they came from. Loudly splashing they sank downward. But the disappointed fishers Would again now try their fortune, Loosened all the tangled meshes, And with greatest care they lowered Then the net and raised it slowly. And to do so there were needed Many sturdy pulls and struggles. Ringing shouts and cries of triumph Greeted this successful fishing. From the rock came down the Baron To the fishers, and the ladies Eagerly made haste to follow. Over rocks and thorny brambles To the shore they found a pathway. Margaretta followed also, Notwithstanding her long habit. When young Werner saw her coming, Bashfully his arm he offered, And bewildered were his senses. So Sir Walter Raleigh's heart once Must have beaten, when his mantle He made use of as a carpet For his gracious royal mistress. Yet with thanks fair Margaretta Werner's arm and aid accepted. Out there in the verdant forest Many useless scruples vanish, Which oft elsewhere greatly trouble Masters of the ceremonies. The descent there was not easy, And no other arm was near her. By the lake they gaily looked now At the fishing booty struggling. Flapping in the net's strong meshes Were the captives. Many snapping Sought a way still for escaping, But on the bare sand were landed; And thus fruitless was their trial. Those who felt toward each other In the depths such bitter hatred, Now as captives were quite peaceful: Snake-like eels, so smooth and slippery, Well-fed carps with huge broad noses, And the pirate-fish, the slender Pike with jaws large and voracious. As in war, the harmless peasants Often to stray shots fall victims, So the fate of being captured Many others overtook: Handsome barbels, spotted gudgeons; Tiny bleaks, the river-swallow; And through all this crowd of fishes Sluggishly the crab was creeping; Inwardly he sadly grumbled: "Caught together, hung together." Well contented said the Baron: "After labour comes amusement. Seems to me, that our fresh booty Will taste better in the forest. Therefore let us now make ready For ourselves a rustic dinner." To these words they all assented, And the landlord of the "Button" Sent out two fleet-footed fellows To the city with the order: "Two large pans bring quickly hither; Bring me golden fresh-made butter, Also bread, and salt sufficient, And a keg of fine old wine. Bring me lemons too, and sugar; For I feel a premonition As if May-drink would be wanted." Off they started. Under shelter Of a rock with a tall pine-tree, Some the hearth were getting ready, Bringing there dry boughs and fagots, Loads of furze and moss together. Others now prepared the fishes For the feast, and all the ladies Gathered herbs of spicy fragrance, Such as thyme and leaves of strawberries; Also gathered for the May-wine The white-blooming fragrant woodroof. Which rejoiced at being broken By such tender hands, and thought thus: "Sweet it was in these dark pine-woods, To be blooming, 'mid the rocks here, But still sweeter in the May-time 'Tis to die, and with the last breath Highly then to spice the May-wine For the joy of human beings. Death in general is corruption, But the woodroof's death is like that Of the morning-dew on blossoms, Sweetly, without sighs, exhaling." From the town returning quickly Came the two fleet-footed fellows, Bringing stores, as had been ordered. And soon crackled on the stone-hearth Cheerfully a blazing fire. In the pans were frying briskly What had recently been swimming. First a mighty pike was served up To the ladies by the landlord, As a show of rustic cooking; And a solemn earnest silence Soon gave evidence that all were Very busy with the banquet. Only the confused low sounds of Gnawing fish-bones, munching crab-claws, Now disturbed the forest quiet. Meanwhile, farther up, delicious Fragrant May-wine was preparing. In a bowl of size capacious Margaretta's taste artistic Well had brewed it; mild and spicy, As sweet May himself the drink was. Every glass she filled up, kindly Helping all with graceful bearing. Everybody got his share, and All were merry round the fire. There the city-teacher also Stretched himself upon the grass-bank. From the school he had absconded, Also to enjoy the fishing. In his heart he bore a secret, Had to-day composed a song. May-wine, May-wine, drink of magic! Suddenly his cheeks were glowing, And his eyes were shining brightly. On the rock he sprang courageous, Saying: "I will sing you something." Smiling now, the others listened, And young Werner stepping forward, On his trumpet low and softly Blew a piece first as a prelude. Then upon the rock the teacher Raised his voice and sang with fervour. Werner joined him on the trumpet Clear and joyful, and the chorus Also fell in--clear and joyful Through the forest rang the MAY SONG. "A wondrous youth of lovely mien Rich gifts of joy is strewing; O'er hill and vale, where'er are seen His footsteps, light is glowing. The fresh young green decks hill and lea, The birds are singing merrily, While falls in gentle showers A rain of snow-white flowers. So in the woods we sing and shout, Heigh-tralala loud ringing; We sing, while all things bud and sprout, To May our welcome bringing. "Young May in humming sounds delights, Is full of merry capers; So through the fir-trees swarm great flights Of golden buzzing chafers. And from the moss white lilies rise, Of spring the fairest sweetest prize; Their bells in tuneful measure Ring in the May with pleasure. So in the woods we sing and shout, Heigh-tralala loud ringing; We sing, while all things bud and sprout, To May our welcome bringing. "Now everyone may think, who can, Of mirth, and love that burneth; To many an old and worthy man His youth again returneth. His shouts resound across the Rhine: 'O let me in, thou sweetheart mine!' And voices loud are crying; Love's darts in May are flying. So in the woods we sing and shout Heigh-tralala loud ringing; We sing, while all things bud and sprout, To May our welcome bringing." Long the plaudits, loud the clapping, When it ended. And the ladies Also seemed delighted with it; As, indeed, in the loud chorus Many gentle female voices Readily could be distinguished. Margaret in playful humour, Out of hazel-leaves and holly, And of violets and crowfoot, Wound a garland, and said archly: "This wreath to the most deserving! But I'm puzzled who shall get it-- Whether he who sang the May-song, Or else he who on the trumpet Played the fine accompaniment." Said the Baron: "In this matter I will give a just decision. Ever the first prize is given To the poet; but a garland Or a laurel-crown, what are they? I agree with the old Grecians Who awarded to the singer Just the victim's fattest portion, As the saddle or the buttock. And I fancy that the teacher's Stores are not so well provided, That he'll offer an objection. Therefore I make him a present Of the largest pike and carp, which Still are left among our booty. But as my young friend, the trumpeter, Seems disposed less practically, So you may, in my opinion, Honour him with your fair garland; For, indeed, he played not badly." Simpering now the happy singer Rubbed his hands and blessed the May-time, As he saw a glowing vision Of the pan with fishes frying. But young Werner to the maiden Bashfully approached, and lowly Bending on his knee, he hardly Dared to gaze at her blue eyes. But with grace placed Margaretta On his brow the blooming garland, While a weird and lurid fire-light Suddenly in fitful flashes Fell upon the group assembled. For the embers on the hearth-stone Had ignited the old pine-tree. Flaming fiery tongues now glided Through the branches full of resin; And the sparks flew crackling upward Wildly to the evening sky. Margaretta, Margaretta! Were they fireworks which the pine woods Fondly burned to do thee honour? Or did Cupid with his flaming Love-torch wander through the forest? But the flames were soon extinguished. And the Baron now gave orders That the party should break up; and Fishers, riders, noble ladies, All went homeward in the twilight. Faintly glimmering fell the last bright Sparks from out the pine-tree branches, Sinking in the mountain-lake. EIGHTH PART. THE CONCERT IN THE GARDEN PAVILION. In the garden of the castle Mighty chestnut trees are standing, And a pretty gay pavilion. In the Rhine are deeply sunken The foundations of the terrace. 'Tis a quiet cosy corner, Hidden by a mass of foliage. While below the waves are murmuring. For the last two months, mysterious Business has been going on here. Pots of colours, painting brushes, Lime and mortar, masons' trowels And high scaffoldings are rising To the dome of the pavilion. Is't some evil spirit's workshop?-- 'Tis no evil spirit's workshop. Frescoes here are being painted, And the legs which there are dangling From the lofty wooden scaffold, Are the legs of the illustrious Fresco-painter Fludribus, Who returning from Italia Had been living in the Rhine-land. He was pleased with the fair country, And the rosy happy faces, And the cellars full of wine. All the people wondered at him As they would at an enchanter; For he told them marvellous stories. In his youth he had been travelling, And by chance once in Bologna Came upon the school of artists. In the studio of Albini He became a colour-mixer; And from this most graceful master He found out with ready cunning How to paint both gods and heroes, And the airy little cupids. Yes, he even helped the master, Making easy light gradations, Or preparing the dead colouring. On the Rhine, far round the country Fludribus was the sole artist. Painted many tavern sign-boards, Pictures also for the chapels, Portraits e'en of brides of peasants. Stable was his reputation; For if any criticisers Would find fault with his great paintings, That an arm or nose was crooked, Or a cheek looked too much swollen, Then he would overwhelm his critics With the big high-sounding phrases He had learnt when at Bologna. Hearing nothing but perspective, Colouring and soft gradation, Modelling and bold foreshortening, Soon they lost their wits entirely. Margaretta, who with faithful Love had long the matter pondered, How she would surprise her father With a pleasure on his birthday, Spoke to Master Fludribus: "I have heard it oft related How in France in lordly castles They adorn the walls with frescoes. Therefore try to paint now something Like them here in my pavilion. From the world secluded, I know Naught about such compositions; Therefore to your taste I leave all, Only you must work in secret, As the Baron must know nothing." Fludribus looked consequential: "Though but trifling is the order, Still I coincide with Cæsar, And am rather here considered First than at great Rome the second. And besides, there all is finished. Even in the Pope's own palace All those thoughts high and æsthetic, Which I in my bosom cherished, Has a man by name of Raphael Painted on the walls already. But I shall great things achieve, And shall do like Buffamalco, Who with rich red wine imparted Glowing warmth to the cold colours. Therefore, furnish me with red wine First; of course, good eating with it. Rich reward I do not care for, Since the thought is my enjoyment, That I shall be made immortal Through the efforts of my genius. Thus I'll paint for almost nothing, Just the square foot seven shillings." Since two months he had been painting On the walls beneath the arched roof; Imitated Buffamalco; But he drank himself the red wine. And his compositions truly Were artistic, highly proper, And of elegant conception. To begin with: there paraded Perseus and Andromeda; At their feet lay deadly wounded The great Hydra, with a handsome Face, much like a human being, Who in dying still coquetted With the lovely rock-bound captive. Then the Judgment came of Paris; And in order that the dazzling Beauty of those heavenly ladies Should not quite eclipse the hero, They looked off toward the landscape, With their backs to the spectator. Similar were the other pictures: As Diana and Actæon, Orpheus and Eurydice. For the man of genius chooses From mythology his subjects; And he thinks, in nudeness only, Is revealed the highest beauty. Now the work was all accomplished, And with feeling, said the master: "Happy can I go to Hades, As my works are my memorial. In the history of this Rhine-land A new epoch of the fine arts Will begin with Fludribus." 'Twas the wish of Margaretta To inaugurate with music This so beautified pavilion. Ha! how Werner's heart was beating, When he heard the maid's desire. He directly went to Basel To select the new productions Of the musical composers; And he brought the scores back with him Of the great Venetian master, Claudio di Monteverde, Whose sweet pastoral composition Carried off the prize in music. Then there was a noisy bustle 'Mongst the artists of the city; And a most increasing practice In the frequent long rehearsals, All unnoticed by the Baron. Now, at last, the long-expected Day had come, the Baron's birthday. At the table he was chatting With his friend and pleasant neighbour, The good prelate of St. Blasien, Who had driven hither early, To express his heartfelt wishes. Meanwhile many hands were busy Decorating the pavilion With fresh garlands, and were placing Rows of music-desks in order. By degrees there came now gliding Through the side-gate by the river All the musical performers. First, the youthful burgomaster Bending under the unwieldy Contra-bass, whose sounds sonorous Often from his thoughts did banish All the cares of his high office, And the council's stupid blunders. Next there came the bloated chaplain Who played finely on the violin, Drawing from it such shrill wailings, As if wishing to give utterance To his lonely bachelor's heart. With his horn beneath his arm came The receiver's clerk, who often, A great bore to his superior, With his playing did enliven All the dry accounts he summed up, And the dulness of subtraction. There came also stepping slowly, Dressed in black, but shabby looking, With a hat the worse for usage, He the lank assistant-teacher, Who by Art consoled himself for What was wanting in his income, And instead of wine and roast beef Lived upon his flute's sweet music. Then came--Who can count, however, All these instrumental players? All the talent of the city For this concert had united. From the ironworks of Albbruck Even came the superintendent; He alone played the viola. Like a troop of mounted warriors Who the enemy expecting, Lurk in safe and hidden ambush, So they waited for the Baron To arrive. And like good marksmen Who with care before the battle Try their weapons, if their powder By the dew has not been damaged, If the flint is good for striking; So by blowing, scraping, tuning, They their instruments were trying. Margaretta led the Baron And his guest now to the garden. Women never are in want of A good pretext, when some fun or Some surprise they are preparing. So she praised the shady coolness And the view from the pavilion, Till the two old friends were turning Toward that spot without suspicion. Like a volley then resounded At their entrance a loud flourish, Every instrument saluting; And like roaring torrents bursting Wildly through the gaping sluice-gate, So the overture let loose now Its loud storming floods of music On the much astonished hearers. With the greatest skill young Werner Led the orchestra, whose chorus Gladly yielded to his bâton. Ha! that was a splendid bowing, Such a fiddling, such a pealing! Hopping lightly, like a locust, Through the din the clarinet flew, And the contra-bass kept groaning, As if wailing for its soul, While the player's brow was sweating From his arduous performance. There behind in the orchestra Fludribus the drum was beating; As a many-sided genius, During pauses, he was also To the triangle attending. But his heart o'erflowed with sadness; And the drum's dull sound re-echoed His complaints, as dull and grumbling: "Dilettanti, happy people! Merrily they suck the honey From the flowers which with heavy Throes the Master's mind created; And they spice well their enjoyment With their mutual frequent blunders. Genuine Art is a titanic Heaven-storming strife and struggle For a Beauty still receding, While the soul is gnawed with longing For the unattained Ideal. But these bunglers are quite happy." Now the din of sound subsided. As oft after heavy tempests, When the thunder ceases pealing, Mildly shineth forth the rainbow 'Gainst the canopy of heaven; So now the full band is followed By the trumpet's dulcet solo. Werner blew it: low and melting Rang the tunes forth from the trumpet. Full of wonder some were staring At the score, in wonder also The fat chaplain nudged the teacher On the arm, and whispered softly: "Hear'st thou what he's playing? Nothing Like it in the score is written. Has he read perhaps his music In the fair young lady's eyes?" Splendidly the concert came thus To an end, and the musicians Sat exhausted and yet happy That they had so well succeeded. Now the prelate of St. Blasien Stepped forth bowing quite politely To the band, and as a clever Connoisseur and statesman spoke thus: "Heavy wounds have been inflicted On our land while war was raging, And throughout our German country Rudeness was predominating. Therefore it deserves great praise, thus With the Muses to take refuge. This refreshes and ennobles, Civilises human beings, So that war and strife are silenced. All these frescoes on the walls here Show no ordinary talent; And still more this feast of music Makes me think well of the players Who my ears have thus delighted, Brought my happy youth before me, Took me back to fair Italia, When in Rome I listened to the Tones of Cavalieri's Daphne, And idyllic pastoral longing Filled my heart to overflowing. Therefore, my dear friends, continue Thus to worship at Art's altar. Let the harmony of sound keep Far from you all strife and discord. Oh how pleasant it would be, if Such a spirit were but common!" Deeply moved by these high praises From a man of such rich knowledge, The whole orchestra, delighted, Bowed to him when he had finished. Highly pleased, the Baron also Walked around, gave hearty greetings; And to testify his thanks--for Words alone don't suit a Baron-- Ordered from his well-stocked cellars A huge cask of beer brought up there. "'Twas well done, my good musicians, Most efficient chapel-master! Where the devil have you picked up All these pretty compositions? And you, Fludribus, have also Painted well; suits me exactly. Other times, 'tis true, may come yet When our goddesses must wear more Draperies than you have painted; But a gray old soldier does not Blame you for a little nudeness. Therefore, let us ring our glasses To our noble guest's good health, and To the excellent musicians. Yes, for aught I care, we'll drink to The fair shivering painted deities, That the winter in the Rhine-land May not prove too rigorous for them." Margaretta thought it wiser Now to leave the room, well knowing That the party might get noisy. On the threshold she gave Werner Her fair hand with grateful feeling. 'Tis most likely that the pressure Of the hand was full of meaning; But no chronicle doth tell us: Was it homage to the artist, Or a sign of deeper interest? Glasses rang and foaming bumpers, And there was some heavy drinking; But my song must keep the secret Of the fate of late returners; Also hide the sudden drowning Which the hat of the lank teacher Suffered in the Rhine that night. But at midnight, when the last guest For his home long since had started, Low the chestnut trees were whispering. Said the one: "Oh fresco paintings!" Said the other: "Oh thou ding dong!" Then the first: "I see the future-- See there two remorseless workmen, See two monstrous painting-brushes, See two buckets full of whitewash. And they quietly daub over, With a heavy coating, heroes, Deities, and Fludribus. Other ages--other pictures!" Said the other: "In the far-off Future I hear from the same place Glees resounding from male voices. Rising to our lofty summits, Simple touching German music. Other ages--other music!" Both together added: "True love Will endure throughout all ages!" NINTH PART. TEACHING AND LEARNING. Winds and the swift river's current Hardly had swept off the dulcet Melodies of Monteverde, When the people in the city Held no other conversation Than of this great feast of music. Not, however, of the spirit Of the melodies they'd heard then, Neither of the deep emotion Which was in their souls awakened, Were they speaking; they disputed Who received the Baron's thanks first At the end of the performance; Whom the Abbot had distinguished Most that evening by his praises; And what finally was served up From the kitchen and the cellar. As the tail of a dead lizard Still, when life has long departed, With spasmodic jerks is writhing: So the memory of great actions Still lives on in daily gossip. But with thoughts above such nonsense Margaretta took an early Solitary walk next morning To the honeysuckle arbour, There to dream of last night's music, Specially of Werner's solo, Which still through her soul was thrilling Like a message of sweet love. But what saw she? In the arbour On the little rustic table She beheld the very trumpet. Like the magic horn of Huon, Wondrous mysteries containing; Dumb, but full of deep expression, Like a star it sparkled there. Margaretta stood confounded At the arbour's shady entrance: "Came he here? And now, where is he? Wherefore has he left his trumpet Here so wholly unprotected? Easily a worm might crawl in, Or a thief might come and steal it. Shall I take it to the castle, Take it in my careful keeping? No, I'll go, do nothing with it, Should indeed have gone before." But she tarried, for her eyes were Held in durance by the trumpet, Like a shad caught by the fish-hook. "Oh, I wonder," she was thinking, "Whether my breath would be able From its depths a tone to waken. Oh I much should like to know this! No one sees what I am doing, All around no living being. Only my old Hiddigeigei Licks the dew from off the box-tree; Only insects in the sand here Follow out their digging instinct, And the caterpillars gently Up and down the arbour crawl." So the maiden shyly entered, Shyly she took up the trumpet, To her rosy lips she pressed it; But with fright she well-nigh trembled At her breath to sound transforming In the trumpet's golden calyx. Which the air was bearing farther, Farther--ah, who knoweth where? But she cannot stop the fun now, And with sounds discordant, horrid, Fit to rend the ears to pieces, So disturbed the morning stillness, That the poor cat Hiddigeigei's Long black hair stood up like bristles, Like the sharp quills of a hedgehog. Raising then his paw to cover His offended ear, he spoke thus: "Suffer on, my valiant cat-heart, Which so much has borne already, Also bear this maiden's music! We, we understand the laws well, Which do regulate and govern Sound, enigma of creation. And we know the charm mysterious Which invisibly through space floats, And, intangible a phantom, Penetrates our hearing organs, And in beasts' as well as men's hearts Wakes up love, delight and longing, Raving madness and wild frenzy. And yet, we must bear this insult, That when nightly in sweet mewing We our love-pangs are outpouring, Men will only laugh and mock us, And our finest compositions Rudely brand as caterwauling. And in spite of this we witness That these same fault-finding beings Can produce such horrid sounds as Those which I have just now heard. Are such tones not like a nosegay Made of straw, and thorns, and nettles, In the midst a prickly thistle? And in presence of this maiden Who the trumpet there is blowing, Can a man then without blushing E'er sneer at our caterwauling? But, thou valiant heart, be patient! Suffer now, the time will yet come When this self-sufficient monster, Man, will steal from us the true art Of expressing all his feelings; When the whole world in its struggle For the highest form of culture Will adopt our style of music. For in history, there is justice. She redresses every wrong." But besides old Hiddigeigei, Standing far down by the river There was still another listener To these first attempts at blowing, Who felt anger more than pleasure. It was Werner. He came early With his trumpet to the garden, Wanted to compose a song there In that quiet morning-hour. First, however, his dear trumpet He laid on the rustic table. Then stood musing by the stone-wall Gazing at the rapid river. "Yes, I see, your waves preserve still Their old course and disposition, Ever toward the ocean rushing, As my heart for my love striveth. Who now from the goal is farthest, Clear green river, thou or I?" All this train of thought was broken By the stork from the old tower, Who, full of a father's pride, had Taken his young brood to ramble On the Rhine-shore for the first time. 'Twas amusing to young Werner How just then the old stork gravely, On the sand with stealthy cunning, Closely a poor eel was watching, Who of various worms was making There a comfortable meal. He, however, who was wielding O'er the little worms the strand-law, Soon himself will serve as breakfast. For the greater eats the lesser, And the greatest eats the great ones. In this simple manner nature Solves the knotty social question. No more did his smoothness help him, No more his sleek body's wriggling, No more his spasmodic beating With his tail so strong and supple. Tightly held in the indented Beak of the determined parent, He was given to the hopeful Stork-brood, now to be divided; And they held with noisy clatter Solemnly their morning-feast. Nearer to observe this, Werner Had descended to the Rhine-bank, And he seemed in no great hurry To commence his composition. There he sat himself down gently On the insect-covered moss-bank. Shaded by a silvery willow, And it gave him much amusement Thus to be a silent witness Of this banquet of the storks. Pleasures, yet, of all descriptions Are but fleeting on our planet. Even to the most contented Doth it happen that fate often Like a meteor bursts upon them. Only a short time had Werner Viewed this scene when he was startled By the tones of his own trumpet, Which like keen-edged Pandour daggers Deep into his soul were cutting. "'Tis the gardener's saucy youngster Who my trumpet thus is blowing," Said young Werner, in his anger Starting from his seat so quickly That the storks thereby much frightened, Fluttering upward sought the tower; And so quickly that they even Had no time to take the eel off. Like a poor old torso lay he On the sand so pitifully; And the chronicles are silent Whether the old father stork came Ever back to take his booty. Werner meanwhile to the garden Climbed up; to the shady arbour On the soft green sward he's walking, That the pebbly footpath may not By the noise betray his coming. In the very act of sinning Doth he wish to catch the rascal, And to beat time to his music On his back without relenting. Thus he comes up to the arbour, With his hand raised high in anger. But, as if 'twere struck by lightning, To his side it dropped down quickly, And the stroke remained, like German Unity and other projects, Only an ideal dream. Then beheld he Margaretta Pressing to her lips the trumpet, And her rosy cheeks are puffed out Like those trumpet-blowing angels' In the church of Fridolinus. Up she starts now as a thief would In the neighbour's yard detected, And the trumpet drops abruptly From the touch of her soft lips. Werner covered her confusion Through a clever maze of language; And with ardour he commences On the spot to teach the maiden The first steps in trumpet-blowing In strict order, with due method; Shows the instrument's construction, How to use the lips in blowing, That true tones may be forthcoming. Margaretta listened docile. And before she is aware, new Tones she finds she is awaking From the trumpet which young Werner With low bows had handed to her. Easily from him she learneth What her father's cuirassiers blew As the call to charge in battle; Only a few notes and simple, But most pithy and inspiring. Love is, there can be no question, Of all teachers the most skilful; And what years of earnest study Do not conquer, he is winning With the charm of an entreaty, With the magic of a look. E'en a common Flemish blacksmith Once became through love's sweet passion In advanced age a great painter. Happy teacher, happy scholar, In the honeysuckle arbour! 'Twas as if the only safety Of the German empire rested On this trumpet-call's performance. But within their souls was stirring Quite a different melody: That sweet song, old as creation, Of the bliss of youthful lovers; True, a song without the words yet, But they had divined its meaning, And beneath a playful manner Hid the blissful consciousness, Startled by this trumpet-blowing Came the Baron reconnoitring, Tried to frown, but soon his anger Was converted into pleasure, When he heard his child there blowing The old fanfar of his horsemen. Friendly spoke he to young Werner: "You are truly in your office A most ardent zeal unfolding. If you go on in this manner, We shall see most wondrous things yet. The old stable-door which harshly Creaks and groans upon its hinges, Even in the pond the bull-frogs May perhaps change for the better, Through your trumpet's magic charm." Werner held, however, henceforth His dear trumpet as a jewel, Which the richest Basel merchant, With the fullest bag of money, Could not ever purchase from him; For the lips of Margaretta Made it sacred by their touch. TENTH PART. YOUNG WERNER IN THE GNOME'S CAVE. From the Feldberg tears a raging Foaming torrent through the forests To the Rhine--its name is Wehra. In the narrow valley standeth 'Midst the rocks a single fir-tree; In the branches sat the haggard Wicked wood-sprite Meysenhartus, Who to-day behaved quite badly: Showing his sharp teeth and grinning, Tore a branch off from the fir-tree, And kept gnawing at a pine-cone; Clambered often quite indignant Up and down just like a squirrel; From the wings of a poor night-owl Roughly plucked out several feathers; And while mocking the old fir-tree Rocked himself upon its summit. "High old fir-tree, green old fir-tree! I with thee would ne'er my lot change. Firmly rooted must thou stand there, And take everything that happens; Never canst thou quit thy station. And if ever Fate ordaineth. Thou to far-off lands shalt wander, Men have first to come with axes; With hard strokes they hack and cut thee, Deep into thy flesh, till falling; And then strip unmercifully All thy skin from off thy body; Throw thee next into the Rhine, and Make thee swim as far as Holland. And if e'er they pay the honour On a frigate to erect thee As a proud and stately mast, still Thou art but a smooth-skinned fir-tree, Without roots there lonely standing; And thou yearnest on the ocean For thy old home in the forest, Till at last a flash of lightning Mast and ship and all destroyeth. High old fir-tree, green old fir-tree! I with thee would ne'er my lot change!" Said the fir-tree: "Everybody Must accept the sphere he's born in, And fulfil his duties fully. So we think here in the forest; And 'tis well so, at least better Than to hop will-o'-the-wisp like, Playing pranks and doing mischief, Men and cattle oft misleading, And the stupid wanderer's curses As reward home with thee taking. Anyhow, no one cares for thee. For, at best, a peasant sayeth, Devil take this Meysenhartus! But they're others who write volumes Proving thou hast no existence; That to lose one's way at night-time Comes from fogs and drunken frolics. Oh the spirit-shares stand badly! On the highway I would rather As a paving-stone be lying, Than to be a third-class spirit, Like the wood-sprite Meysenhartus." Said the spirit: "Thou knowest nothing Of all this, my noble fir-tree. Meysenhartus and his brothers O'er the globe rule powerfully; Everywhere throughout creation Are wrong tracks, and also people Who upon these same paths wander. And whenever, gay or mournful, Someone goes upon a wrong track, He has been by us deluded. Let them doubt if there are spirits; Still they are in our dominion. And to-day you'll see me leading Someone far astray to show him That the spirits are in numbers." From the hill came Master Werner. Deeply musing o'er his love-dream He had wandered through the forest, And as far as man is happy Here below, he was; and buoyant Hope and joy his heart were filling. Many burning thoughts were passing Through his brain, as if they shortly Into love-songs might be growing, Just as caterpillars later Into butterflies develop. Homeward now he would be turning; But the wood-sprite Meysenhartus Hid with dust the right path from him, And young Werner, absent-minded, 'Stead of river-ward went inland. Now again the wood-sprite grinning Clambered to the fir-tree's summit, Rocking gaily in the branches. "He is caught!" so said he, mocking. Werner paying no attention, Went up through the Hasel valley, Till he came to a steep mountain, To a corner cool and shady. Holly, sloe, and climbing ivy Grew around the rocks luxuriant, While near by a clear spring rippled. Through the bushes stepped young Werner To refresh himself by drinking. Strongly tangled was the brushwood, And upon it he trod firmly. Then upon his ear broke squeaking Wailing tones, as from a mole which At his subterranean labour Caught in traps and now detected, Roughly is jerked up to daylight. From the grass rose something crackling; Lo, there stood a gray-clad pygmy, Hardly three feet high, and hunchbacked; But his face was clear and gentle, And his odd small eyes looked clever. Gracefully he let the long ends Of his garment on the ground trail, And said, limping: "Sir, you have been Treading on my foot most rudely." Said young Werner: "I am sorry." Now the pygmy: "And what business Have you in our vale at all?" Said young Werner: "I by no means Wish to seek for the acquaintance Of such injudicious pygmies, Who like grasshoppers are skipping, And are asking silly questions." Said the pygmy: "Thus ye all speak, All ye rude and clumsy mortals; Ever with your big feet tramping Till the ground beneath you trembles. And yet you are only clinging To the surface like the chafers Which are nestling in the tree-bark; Thinking that you rule creation, But entirely ignoring All those spirits which, though silent, On the heights, in depths, are working. Oh ye rude and clumsy mortals! Shut up proudly in your houses, You are groaning with hard labour. In the hot-house of your noddles Are some plants called art and science, And you even brag of such weeds. By the lime-spar and rock-crystal! You have much to learn, I tell you, Ere the truth you will see dawning!" Said young Werner: "It is lucky That to-day I feel so peaceful, Else I should have taken pleasure By your long gray beard to hang you On the holly bushes yonder! But my heart to-day is glowing With the sunshine of my love-dreams, Which you with your spars and crystals Never can be comprehending. Oh, to-day I could embrace all, And be kind to everybody. Say then who you are, and whether I can be of any service." Then the dwarf said: "This sounds better. To your questions I will answer. To the race of gnomes belong I, Who in crevices are living; Down in subterranean caverns, Watch there gold and silver treasures, Grind and polish bright the crystals, Carry coals to the eternal Fire in the earth's deep centre; And we heat there well. Without us You here would have long since frozen. From Vesuvius and Mount Etna You can see our furnace smoking. E'en for you ungrateful mortals, Though unseen, we're ever working; And sweet lullabies are singing In the mountains to your rivers, That no harm they may be doing; Keep the crumbling rocks from falling, Chain the ice up in the glaciers; Boil for you the pungent rock-salt, Also mix much healing matter With the springs from which you're drinking. Never ceasing, and enormous Is the gray gnomes' daily labour In the bowels of the earth. Formerly they used to know us; Wise and clever men and women, Grave old priests descended to us In the depths, where to our labour They oft listened, and they spoke thus: "In the caves the gods are dwelling." But you have become estranged since; Still, we willingly will open To your gaze our hidden treasures; And we hold in great affection All the travelling German scholars; For their hearts are kind and generous, And they see much more than others. You seem also one, so follow! Here my cave is, in this valley; If you can but stoop a little, I will show you where to enter." Said young Werner: "I am ready." Thereupon the little pygmy From the rock pushed back some brushwood, When appeared a small low passage. "Light is needed here for mortals," Said the gnome, who now was rubbing Two hard flints, and soon had lighted By the sparks a piece of pine-wood. With this torch he went ahead then; Werner followed, often stooping, Often even well-nigh creeping, For the rocks were nearly meeting. Soon, however, widely opened At the passage end a cavern Of gigantic height and grandeur. Slender columns there supported Lofty arches of the ceiling; From the walls the gray stalactites Hung in various patterns twining, Marvellous, yet graceful textures; Some like tears which from the walls dropped, Others like the richly twisted Branches of gigantic corals. An unearthly bluish colour All throughout the space was glowing, Mingled with the glaring torch-light From the sharp-edged stones reflected. From the depths a rushing sound rose As from distant mountain-streams. Werner gazed at all this splendour, Felt as in a dream transported To some strange and lofty temple, And his heart was filled with awe. "My young friend," now said the pygmy, "Tell me, pray, what are you thinking Of the gnome's secluded dwelling? This is but a place for work-days. Fairer ones far in the North lie, Also in the Alpine caverns; But Italia owns the fairest, On the rocky shore of Capri, In the Mediterranean Sea. O'er the sea's blue waters rise up The stalactites' lofty arches, And the waves in the dark cavern With blue magic light are gleaming, And the tide protects the entrance. The Italian gnomes there often Bathe and frolic with the daughters Of old Nereus, the sea-god, And the sailor shuns the grotto. But perhaps in later ages May a sunday-child look in there, Like thyself a travelling minstrel, Or a merry-hearted artist. But now, come, we must go farther!" Downward stepped he with the torch-light Ever farther, Werner saw how Huge chaotic rocky masses Lay in heaps of wild confusion, Over which was rushing foaming, To the bottomless abyss, a river. Over steep and high rocks clambering, They now entered a new passage. It looked home-like, a large square-room, Of high rocky walls constructed, Fitted for a hermitage; Round about stood slender columns. Ever dropping from the ceiling And through centuries increasing Had stalactites slowly formed them; And some others stood half finished In the process of formation. Now the gnome knocked on the columns, And mysterious solemn tones rang Out in deep harmonious rhythm. "They are tuned," he said, "according To the harmony of the spheres." In this room a rock was lying. Smooth and round, just like a table; And there motionless and silent Sat a man--looked as if sleeping, Leaned his head upon his right hand. Stony were his lordly features, And the flame of life no longer Played o'er them; and doubtless many Tears had his sad eyes been shedding. Petrified they now were hanging In his beard and from his robes. Werner gazed at him with terror And he asked: "Is this a statue, Or a man of flesh and blood?" Said the gnome: "This is my guest here, 'Tis the _silent man_, whom many Years I've comfortably sheltered. Once he was a proud old mortal, And I found him in the valley, And I offered then to show him Where to find the nearest village. But he shook his head and broke out In a mocking scornful laughter. Marvellously grand his words were, Now like prayers devout and pious, Like a psalm, such as we gnomes sing Often in the earth's vast bowels; Then like curses unto heaven. Much I could not understand. But it woke the recollections Of the days of time primeval, When the wild ferocious Titans Rocks and mountains tore up o'er us From their firm and deep foundations, And we fled to greater depths. For the man I felt great pity, And I took him to my cavern; And he liked it, when I showed him All the gnomes' incessant labours; And directly felt at home here. Oft together have we listened To the growing of stalactites, Chatted also many evenings Of the things below us hidden; Only when my conversation Turned to men, he grew quite angry; Dark his frowns were, and he broke once Seven columns in his fury. When I wished to praise the sunlight And the skies, he stopped me, saying: 'Speak not of the sky or sunlight! In the sunlight there above us Snakes are creeping, and they sting one; Men are living and they hate one; Up there in the starry heavens We see questions which are waiting For an answer; who can give it?' So he stayed here in the cavern, And the grief which overwhelmed him Was dissolved in tender sadness. Oft I saw him gently weeping; Oft, when a melodious wailing Through the columns' hollow shafts rang, He sat there, his sweet songs singing. But he gradually grew silent. Did I ask him what he wanted, Then he smiling took my hand: 'Gnome, I many songs can sing thee, But the best I have not sung yet. Will you know its name? 'Tis silence. Silence--silence! oh how well one Learns it here in thy deep cavern; Depth creates true modesty. But the cold is o'er me creeping; Gnome! 'tis true, my poor heart freezes. Gnome! dost thou know what true love is? If for diamonds thou art digging, And dost find them, take them with thee, Guard them safely in thy cavern. Gnome, thy heart will never freeze then!' "These the last words he has spoken. Now for years he has been silent In this spot. He has not died yet Nor is living, but his body Slowly into stone is changing; And I nurse him; heartfelt pity For my silent guest I cherish, Often try to cheer his spirit With the columns' solemn music, And I know it pleases him. Without taking any freedom, I think you too are a minstrel; And the service you can do me Is to play before my guest here." Then young Werner took his trumpet And began to play; his mournful Strains were ringing through the cavern As if breathing forth deep pity. Then in thinking of his own love, Through the sadness now there mingled Strains of joy--first faint and distant, Then came nearer--fresher, fuller, And the last notes sounded like a Glorious hymn on Easter morning. And the silent man then listened, Nodded gently with his head. Fare-thee-well, dream on in peace, thou Silent man, in thy still cavern, Till the fulness comes of knowledge And of love, to wake the sleeper. Through the winding cave young Werner With the gnome was now returning. As the spacious dome they entered A great rock the gnome uplifted. Underneath a shrine was hidden, And within were sparkling jewels, Also writings and old parchments. One pale amethyst, and papers Which by age had turned quite yellow, Gave the gnome now to young Werner, Saying: "Take these as mementoes! If the world above doth vex thee, Here thou e'er wilt find a refuge. But when wicked men are saying That gnomes' feet are webbed like geese-feet, Then, by lime-spar and rock-crystal! Say that they are dreadful liars. True, our soles are somewhat flattened; But 'tis only a rude peasant Who so cruelly maligns us. Now good-bye, there is the outlet; Take the pine-torch, light thyself now, I have other things to do."-- Spoke and crept into a crevice. Musing through the narrow passage Went young Werner, and his head struck Oft against the rocky ceiling Ere he reached again the daylight. Peacefully the evening-bell rang Through the vale as he went homeward. ELEVENTH PART. THE HAUENSTEIN RIOT. Through the Schwarzwald spreads a buzzing. Buzzing as of bees when swarming, As of the approaching storm-wind. In the tavern savage fellows Meet: their heavy fists are striking On the table: "Bring me wine here! Better times are now approaching For this land of Hauenstein." From the corn-loft brings the peasant His old-fashioned rusty musket, Which below the floor was hidden; Fetches also the long halberd. On the walnut-tree the raven Harshly croaks: "Long have I fasted; Soon I'll have meat for my dinner, I shall relish thee, poor peasant!" Now the people from the mountains. Throng at Herrischried the market; There the seat is of their union, There they hold their union-meeting. But to-day the Hauenstein peasants Came not in black velvet doublets, With red stomachers and white frills, As was usually their custom. Some had buckled on cuirasses, Others wore their leather doublets; In the breeze the flag was waving, And the morning sun was shining On their spears and thick spiked clubs. Near the old church in the market Stood the village elders, with the Union-leader and mace-bearer. "Silence, men!" the beadle shouted. Silence reigned, and on the church-steps Mounted then the peasants' speaker, Holding an official paper, Stroked his long gray beard, and said: "Inasmuch as the hard war-time Has much injured town and country, And the debt is much augmented; So to meet increased expenses Our most gracious rulers hereby Do exact new contributions; Seven florins from each household, And from all the bachelors two. And next week the tax-collector Comes to gather these new taxes. So 'tis written in this paper." --"Death upon the tax-collector! May God damn him!" cried the people.-- "Now as we ourselves have suffered Quite enough by this sad war, and Many lost their goods and chattels; And because 'tis pledged in writing As one of our privileges, That there shall be no new taxes E'er imposed upon this country, Many this demand consider As a most unjust extortion, Think we should stand up most firmly For our ancient rights by charter, And should never pay a farthing." --"Not a farthing!" cried the people.-- "So we summoned you together For your final resolution." Like the distant surf their voices Loudly roared in wild confusion: "Come! stand up! speak out! We must now Hear the Bergalingen Fridli. He knows best--and all we others Always are of his opinion." Then stepped out the man thus called for, And upon a big log mounting, Spoke thus with a shrewd expression: "Do you see at last, dull peasants, What the end will be? Your fathers Once gave up their little finger; Now they want to seize the whole hand. Only give it, and you'll soon see, How they'll flay your very skin off! Who can really thus compel us? In his woods free lives the peasant, Nothing but the sun above him. So it stands in our old records, In the statutes of our union: Nothing there of rent and socage, Nothing of a bondman's service! But there's danger we shall have them. Do you know what will protect us? Yonder there the Swiss can tell you, And the valiant Appenzellers. This here!"--and he brandished fiercely O'er his head his thick spiked club.-- "On the fir-tree I heard piping Lately a white bird at midnight: Good old time, that bygone time, Peasants, freemen in their forests; If with spears and guns you seek it, You will see it soon returning. Now, Amen! my speech is ended." Then wild cries rose from the people-- "He is right" were many saying; "To the devil with our rulers! Burn these damned taxation-papers! All these scribblers may look out soon If this flame can be extinguished With the fluid in their inkstands." Said another: "Thou, oh governor, Didst consign me to a dungeon; Poor my fare, with only water! Thou hast wine within thy cellar, And I hope we now shall try it. Yes, with thee I'll square accounts soon!" Said a third one: "Thee my musket, Which has brought down many woodcocks, I shall use for nobler sport soon. Then hit well! For we'll be shooting At the great black double eagle." Thus a murmur through the crowd went. Just as when the plague is raging, Everywhere infection spreadeth, So were all the peasants' hearts now Filled with passion and blind wrath. And in vain spoke the experienced Villaringen elder, Balthes: "If a horse's tail is bridled, Not his mouth, no one can drive him. If the peasant seeks for justice By revolt, all will go badly; In the end he gets a thrashing. Hence of old we were commanded To obey the ruling powers, And--" but now in voluntary Was he stopped in his sage counsels: "Turn him out, this old fool Balthes! May God damn him! He is faithless; He's a traitor to his country!" Thus they howled out, stones were flying, Spears were threatening, and his friends could Hardly get him off in safety. "To be short, what use of speaking?" Fridli said, of Bergalingen. "Who are faithful to our old rights And will go for them to battle, Raise their hands high!" And they raised them All, while loud hurrahs they shouted. Arms are clanking, flags are waving, Battle-cries--the drums are beating. And that day large bands were marching From the hills toward the river To attack the forest-cities. In the forest from the fir-tree Looked the wood-sprite Meysenhartus, Mocking at the peasants' army, Said: "A lucky journey to you! No need I should now mislead you, As you choose yourselves the wrong track!" Scouts are riding, watchmen blowing, Women wailing, children crying; Through the vale rings the alarm-bell. Burghers through the streets are running: "Close the gates! Defend the town-walls! Bring the guns up to the tower!" From the terrace saw the Baron This commotion in the forest, How the mountain-paths were darkened By the peasant-bands descending. "Am I dreaming," said he, "or have All these men indeed forgotten, How a hundred and fifty years since Such mad peasants' jokes were punished? Yes, indeed, the forest glitters With their helmets and their halberds. Well devised, you cunning peasants! While below there on the Danube The proud eagle of the emperor Lets the Turks feel his sharp talons, You think that it will be easy, On the Rhine to pluck his feathers! Look out well that this your reckoning Won't deceive you; and I swear here, The old Baron will not fail to Greet you with a warm reception." Turned and went into the castle, And he donned his leathern doublet, Buckled on the heavy broadsword, And gave orders to the household: "Quickly get your weapons ready, Keep good watch upon the towers, Raise the drawbridge, and let no one, While I am away, here enter! Master Werner, you may order All the rest. Protect my castle, And my daughter, my chief treasure! Have no fear, dear Margaretta; Brave must be a soldier's child. Only some few coal-black ravens Come there flying from the forest, Want to get their skulls well battered 'Gainst the walls of this good city. God preserve you! I myself go To my post, up to the town-hall." Margaretta threw herself now In the Baron's arms, who kindly Pressed upon her brow fond kisses. Shaking Werner's hand then warmly He walked off unto the square. There the ladies of the convent Wailing went up to the minster: "Show us mercy, Fridolinus!" By his door the "Button" landlord Asked the Baron: "Is it time now, That we put our gold and silver In the cellar's deepest places?" Said the Baron: "Shame upon you! It is time to take your weapons And to help defend the city. Show the same zeal as when fishing!" In the town-hall were assembled Councillors and burgomaster. Many of the city-fathers Made wry faces, as though fearing The last judgment-day was coming. On their hearts their sins were pressing Like a hundredweight; they cried out: "Save us, God, from this great evil, And we'll promise all our lifetime Ne'er to take unlawful interest, Never to defraud the orphan, Ne'er to mix sand with our spices." Even one proposed this motion: "Let us send out to these peasants Meat and wine in great abundance, Also of doubloons some dozens, That from hence they may depart; They in Waldshut may look out then, How they drive away these fellows." Now the Baron came among them: "My good sirs! I do believe you Hang your heads. To work now bravely! When the Swedes the town beleagured, Then 'twas grave, but this is only Child's play. Surely you have always Liked to hear and make good music; So the booming guns will please you. Let the orchestra strike up now! And these fellows, when they hear you, Homeward soon will all go dancing, E'er the emperor's own detachment Plays for them the grand finale." Thus he spoke. In times of terror Oft a brave word at the right time Can work wonders; many cowards From example drink in courage; And one single iron will leads Oft along the wavering masses. Thus the council looked up strengthened To the Baron's gray moustaches. "Yes, this is just our opinion, We'll defend our city bravely, And the Baron shall command us; For he knows well how to do it. Death to all these cursed peasants!" Through the streets th' alarm is sounded To the town-gate, where a narrow Dam leads on to terra firma, Ran well armed the younger people. On the bastion stood commanding Fludribus, the fresco-painter, Who had there assembled round him Some young lads who with great effort An old gun were hauling up there. Smiling looked at them the Baron, But great Fludribus said gravely: "Devotees of art can boast of Stores of universal knowledge. Let them have a chance, and they will Rule the state as well as armies. My keen eye sees well there's danger In this spot; and as Cellini From the Castle of St Angelo Shot the constable of France once. So--alas at foes inferior-- Cannonades here Fludribus." "Only do not kill them all off!" Said the Baron; "and be sure first To get balls enough and powder; For, the gun you there are dragging Will not be of use without them!" To the Rhine-bank came the peasants In great crowds, and looked up growling At the high walls of the city And the well-closed city-gate. "In his den the fox is hiding, He has barred his hole most firmly, But the peasants will unearth him," Fridli said, of Bergalingen. "Forward! I will be your leader!" Drums were beating the assault now, Heavy muskets cracking loudly; Through the powder-smoke ran shouting All these hordes against the town-gate. On the walls to best advantage Had the Baron placed his forces; And was tranquilly then looking At the crowd of wild assaulters. "'Tis to be regretted," thought he, "That such strength is idly wasted. Out of these strong country lubbers One might form a splendid regiment." His command is heard: "Now fire!" The assaulters then were welcomed With a well-aimed thundering volley, And they fled in all directions; Like a swarm of crows dispersing, When the hail-shot flies among them. And not few of them had fallen. 'Neath an apple-tree was lying By the shore one who spoke feebly To a comrade passing by him: "Greet from me my poor old mother, Also my Verena Frommherz. Say, she can with a good conscience Marry the tall Uickerhans now. For, poor Seppli here is staining The white sand with his true heart's blood!" Whilst this happened by the town-gate, Some were trying if the city Could be entered by a back-way. On the Rhine below were lying Fishing-boats beside a cabin, Where in traps they caught the salmon. There another crowd streamed onward. An audacious lad from Karsau Led them; for, he knew each byway Near the river, and had often Many fish at night-time stolen From the nets of other people. In three fishing-boats, well manned, thence Were they rowing up the river. Willow-trees and heavy brushwood, And a bend there in the river Saved them from discovery. Where the garden of the castle On arched walls is far projecting O'er the Rhine, they stopped their barges, And quite easy was the landing. On the roof of the pavilion Which once Fludribus had painted Sat the black cat Hiddigeigei. With surprise the worthy cat saw Spear-heads far below him glistening; Saw a man, too, upward climbing On the stone wall, tightly holding With his teeth a shining sabre; And how others followed after. Growling said then Hiddigeigei: "Best for a wise cat it would be Ever to remain quite neutral To man's foolish acts of daring; But I hate these boorish peasants, Hate the smell of cows and stables. If they triumph, woe to Europe; For, it would destroy completely The fine atmosphere of culture. Now look out below, you fellows! Since the geese by cries of warning Saved the Capitol of Rome once, Animals are taking interest In the history of the world." Up he sprang in furious anger, Curved his back, his hair all bristling, And commenced a caterwauling Fit to take away one's hearing. On the jutting turret standing. Faithful Anton heard this wauling, And involuntarily looking Toward that way: "Good heaven!" said he, "In the garden is the enemy." Quick his signal-shot brought other Men-at-arms, along with Werner, Who placed quickly his few fighters: "Stand thou here--thou there--don't hurry With your fire!" His heart beat wildly: "Ha, my sword, maintain thy valour!" Shallow was the castle's moat then, Well-nigh dry, and 'mid the rushes Glisten many swords and spear-heads. Daring men are climbing upward O'er the tower's crumbling stone-work. Muskets cracking, arrows flying. Axe-strokes 'gainst the gate are ringing, Everywhere attack, and shouting: "Castle thou wilt soon be taken!" And between, the fall of bodies In the moat is heard--much blood flows. By the gate cries out young Werner: "Well done, Anton! Now take aim at That dark fellow on thy left hand; I'll attend unto the other. Steady now! They are retreating!" Thus the first attack proved fruitless, And with bloody heads drew back now The assaulters, seeking shelter, 'Midst the chestnut-trees' dense thicket. Scornful words now reach the castle: "Coward knights, faint-hearted servants, Keep behind the walls, protected. Just come out to honest combat If you've courage." "Death and Devil!" Werner shouted. "Let the bridge down! Spears at rest! Now onward!--Mock us? In the Rhine with these damned scoundrels!" Down the bridge fell rattling loudly; Far ahead went Werner rushing, Right into the crowd; ran over Just the fellow who did guide them. "When the sword gets dull, thou rascal, With my fist alone I'll kill thee." In the crowd he sees a sturdy Soldier, with a weather-beaten Face, bold and defiant-looking. He had served with Wallenstein once, And now fought for these mean peasants From mere love of strife and bloodshed. "Taste my steel now, gray old warrior," Cried young Werner, as his sword swung Whizzing through the air to strike him. But the soldier's halberd parried Werner's stroke: "Not badly done, lad! Here my answer!" Blood was dripping From young Werner's locks; his forehead Showed a deep wound from the halberd. But the one who swung it, never Gave a second stroke; his own throat, Where by armour not protected, Being cut by Werner's weapon. Three steps backward then he staggered Sinking: "Devil, stir thy fire! Hast me now!" Dead lay the soldier. Werner, thy young life guard well now! Raging were the peasants, thronging In great crowds around this handful. 'Gainst a chestnut-tree now leaning Weak, but still his life defending, Stood young Werner; round him rallied, Brave and faithful, all the servants. Save him, God! The wound is bleeding, From his hand the sword falls slowly, Dimmed his eyes are, and the enemy At his gory breast is aiming. Then--all may go well yet-- From the castle rings distinctly, As if for a charge, the trumpet; Then a shot--one falls; a volley Follows. "Onward!" so the Baron Now commands, and wildly flying Tear the peasants to the Rhine. Cheer up, Werner, friends are coming, And with them comes Margaretta! When the fight below was raging, To the terrace she ascended, And she blew--herself not knowing Why she did it--in the anguish Of her soul, the battle signal Used in the Imperial army. Which she'd learned in happy moments In the honeysuckle-arbour. It was heard by those returning With the Baron from the town-gate; And the maiden's war-cry made them Hurry quickly to the rescue Of those fighting in the garden. Woman's heart, so gentle, timid, What gave thee such courage then? "God, he lives!" she bent now softly Over him who 'neath the chestnuts There on the green sward was lying, Stroked the fair locks, lank and bloody, From his brow: "Hast fought right bravely!" Half unconscious gazed young Werner; Did he then behold a vision? Closed his eyes, and on two muskets To the castle he was borne. TWELFTH PART. YOUNG WERNER AND MARGARETTA. In the castle's chapel dimly Was a flickering lamp-light burning, Shining on the altar-picture, Whence the Queen of Heaven looked down With a gracious pitying smile, 'Neath the picture hung fresh gathered Roses and geranium-garlands. Kneeling there prayed Margaretta: "Sorely tried one, full of mercy! Thou who givest us protection, Care for him who badly wounded Lies now on a bed of anguish; And bestow on me forgiveness If thou thinkst it very sinful That he fills my thoughts alone." Hope and trust their light were shedding In her heart as thus she prayed. And more cheerful Margaretta Now ascended up the staircase. On the threshold of the sick-room Was the gray old doctor standing, And he beckoned her to come there. Judging what most likely would be The first question she would ask him, He then said with voice half muffled: "Fear no more, my gracious lady; Fresh young blood and youthful vigour From such wounds not long can suffer, And already gentle slumber, Messenger of health, doth soothe him. He to-day can take an airing." Spoke and left; for, his attention Many wounded men were craving, And he hated useless gossip. Softly entered Margaretta Now the sick-room of young Werner, Bashful and yet curious whether All was true the doctor told her. Gently slumbering lay young Werner, Pale in youthful beauty, looking Like a statue. As if dreaming, He lay holding, o'er his forehead And his healing wound, his right hand, As one who from glaring sunlight Wishes to protect his eyes; Round his lips a smile was playing. Long on him gazed Margaretta-- Long and longer. Thus in old times In the forest of Mount Ida Gazed the goddess, fair Diana, On Endymion the sleeper. Pity held her eye a captive; Ah, and pity is a fruitful Soil for love's sweet plant to grow in. From a tiny seed 'tis spreading In this ground so rich and fertile, Which it permeates completely With its thousand fibrous rootlets. Thrice already Margaretta To the door her way had wended, But as many times returning She at last approached the bedside. On the table stood a cooling Potion, medicines in bottles; But she neither touched the cooling Potion nor the other bottles. Timidly she bent there o'er him, Timidly and hardly breathing, Lest her breath might wake the sleeper. Long she gazed at his closed eyelids And involuntarily stooping, With her lips--But who interprets All the strange mysterious actions Of a first sweet loving passion? Well-nigh can my song conjecture That she really wished to kiss him; But she did not; startled sighing, Turned abruptly--like a timid Fawn she hurried from the chamber. Like a man who, long accustomed To the gloom and damp of dungeons, Seems bewildered when beholding, For the first time free fair Nature: "Hast thou not, O sun, grown brighter? Has the sky not deeper colours?" And his eyes are nearly dazzled By the light so long denied him: Thus returns the convalescent Once again to life and vigour. Fresher, warmer, rosier visions Rise before his raptured glances, Which he greets with fond rejoicing. "World, how fair thou art!" was also Dropping from the lips of Werner, As on the broad steps he slowly Now descended to the garden. Leaning on his staff, he stood long Quiet, basking in the sunbeams Playing o'er the fragrant flowers, Drew a long breath, and then slowly Stepped upon the garden-terrace. On the stone-seat in the sunshine He sat down now. Bees were humming, Butterflies were lightly flying 'Mid the verdant chestnut-branches, Out and in, like tavern-goers. Green, pellucid, gently rushing, Bore the Rhine its waters onward; And a pine-raft filled with people, Snake-like, swiftly sped toward Basel. Near the shore, up to his knees stood In the river there a fisher, Singing gently to himself thus: "Peasant comes with spears and muskets, Peasant storms the forest-city, Peasant will now fight with Austria: Peasant! you will find that will Make much heavier the bill; Take your purse and pay the joke! Seven florins seemed too much then, One-and-twenty must thou pay now. Soldiers quartered are dear guests too; Then the plaisters from the surgeons: Peasant! you will find that will Make much heavier the bill; Take your purse and pay the joke!" Gaily gazed young Werner o'er the Lovely landscape and the river; But he stopped his contemplations. On the wall with sunlight flooded He beheld a shadow gliding, As of curls and flowing garments-- Well did Werner know this shadow. Through the shrubbery came smiling Margaretta; she was watching Hiddigeigei's graceful gambols, Who then in the garden-arbour With a wee white mouse was playing. With his velvet paws he held it Tight, and like a gracious sovereign Looked down on his trembling captive. From his seat rose up young Werner Bowing lowly and with reverence. Over Margaretta's cheeks spread Ever-changing rosy blushes. "Master Werner, may God bless you, And how are you? You were silent Such a long time, so with pleasure Shall I hear your voice once more." "Since my forehead made acquaintance Lately with the enemy's halberd, Hardly knew I," answered Werner, "Where my life and thoughts had flown to. O'er me lay thick clouds of darkness; But to-day in dreams an angel To my side descended, saying: Thou art well, arise, be happy That thou hast thy health recovered And it was so. With a firm step Thus far have I come already." Now again fair Margaretta's Cheeks were like the blush of morning. When the dream young Werner mentioned, Bashfully she turned her head; then Playfully she interrupted: "I suppose you are now looking At the battle-field; indeed it Proved a hot day, and I fancy Still I hear the roar of battle: Do you still recall, you stood there By yon tree, and there a dead man Lay beneath those blooming elders? Where the gossamer so lightly Through the air in threads is flying, Spears and halberds then were glittering. There, where still you see the traces Of fresh plaster on the stone-wall, Broke those peasants through when flying. And, my good sir, over yonder Then my father loudly scolded, That a certain person headlong Had into such danger plunged." "Death and--but forgive, my lady. That well-nigh I swore," said Werner. "They were mocking us; and others, If they please, may keep their temper. When I hear such stinging speeches, Then my heart burns, my fist clenches: Fight! no other means I know of; Fight I must, e'en should the whole world Go to atoms with a crash. Through my veins there flows no fish-blood; And to-day, though somewhat feeble, In the same case, I should stand there By the chestnut-tree again." "Wicked man," said Margaretta, "That a fresh stroke from a halberd Should be crossing your old scar, and That--but do you know who suffered Keenly for your daring conduct? Do you know whose tears were flowing? Would you once more give the order: Lower drawbridge! if I begged you: Werner stay and do remember The poor suffering Margaretta? If I--," but she was not able Further to spin out her sentence. What the mouth spoke not, the eyes said; What the eyes said not, the heart did. Dreamily young Werner lifted Unto her his raptured gaze: "Am I dying, or is doubly My young life to me now given?" In each other's arms they flew then, Sought each other's lips with ardour, And transported, pressed upon them Love's first kiss, so sweet and blissful. Golden-purple streamed the sunlight Through the shady trees' high summits, Down upon two happy beings-- On young Werner's pallid features, On the lovely blushing maiden. Love's first kiss so sweet and blissful! Thinking of thee, joy and sorrow Both steal o'er me; joy, that also I have once thy nectar tasted, Sorrow, that but once we taste it! For thy sake I wished to cull from Language, all the fairest flowers, For a wreath unto thine honour; But, instead of words rose visions Clear before me, and they led me Far to float o'er time and space. First I soared to Eden's garden, When the new-born world was lying In its pristine youthful freshness, When its age by days was reckoned. Evening came, a rosy light spread O'er the sky, while in the river's Waves the sun to rest sank slowly; On the shore, in merry frolic, Graceful animals were playing. Through the shady paths 'neath palm-trees The first human couple walked. Wide through space they gazed in silence, 'Mid the holy peace of evening; In each other's eyes they looked then, And their lips did meet. Then I saw before me rising. Visions of quite different aspect; Dark the sky, rain-storm and lightning, Mountains bursting, from the dark depths Foaming waters rushing upward. Flooded over is the ancient Mother Earth, and she is dying. To the cliffs the waves are rolling, To the old man and his consort, To the two last living mortals. Now a flash--I saw them smiling, Then embracing, without speaking, Ever kissing. Night then--roaring, Did the flood engulf these beings. This I saw, and well I know now, That a kiss outweighs all language, Is, though mute, love's song of songs. And when words fail, then the singer Should be silent; therefore silent He returns now to the garden. On the stone steps of the terrace Lay the worthy Hiddigeigei; And with great amazement saw he, How his mistress and young Werner Were each other fondly kissing. Grumbling said he to himself then: "Often have I meditated On great problems hard to settle, Which my cat-heart fully fathomed; But there's one which yet remaineth Quite unsolved, uncomprehended: Why do people kiss each other? Not from hatred, not from hunger, Else they'd bite and eat each other; Neither can it be an aimless Nonsense, for they are in general Wise, and know well what they're doing. Why then is it, I ask vainly, Why do people kiss each other? Why do mostly so the youthful? And why mostly so in Spring-time? Over all these knotty questions, I intend to ponder further, On the gable-roof to-morrow." Margaretta plucked some roses, Took then Werner's hat, and gaily With the fairest ones adorned it. "Poor pale man, till there are blooming On your own cheeks just such roses, On your hat you'll have to wear them. But now tell me, wherefore is it That I do so dearly love you? Not a word you ere have spoken, That could show me that you loved me. Sometimes only shy and bashful Did you raise at me your glances, And sometimes you played before me. Is it, then, your country's custom, That a woman's love is won there, Without words by trumpet-blowing?" "Margaretta, sweetest darling," Said young Werner, "could I venture? You appeared to me so saint-like, In your flowing, snow-white garments. At the feast of Fridolinus. 'Twas your glance which made me enter In your noble father's service; And your favour was the sunshine Which my daily life illumined. Ah! there by the mountain-lake once, On my head was placed a garland. 'Twas love's crown of thorns you gave me, And in silence I have worn it. Could I speak, O could the homeless Trumpeter his yearnings utter Boldly to fair Margaretta? Unto you as to an angel, Who is guarding us poor mortals Did I look in silent worship, And I wished in your dear service Here to die beneath the chestnuts. From that fate you have preserved me, Unto life and health restored me, Made my life now doubly precious, As I know your love adorns it. Take me then! Since you did give me That first burning kiss, I only Live through you, belong to you now, Margaretta--ever thine!" "Thine, yes, thine," said Margaretta; "What stiff barriers are erected By our words! Belong to you now-- What a solemn cold expression. Ever thine! 'tis thus love speaketh. No more you; _thou_, heart to heart pressed, Lips to lips, that is his language; Therefore, Werner, let another Kiss now seal it"--and their lips met. In the sky the moon first shineth, Then by countless stars is followed; So the first kiss, when once given, Is by hosts of others followed. But how many were by stealth robbed And paid duly back with interest, All this doth my song keep secret. Poetry and dry statistics Are, alas, not on good terms. Also Anton came now hurrying Through the garden with a message: "The three ladies from the convent, Who the first of May went with us To the fishing, send their greeting To your gracious ladyship, and Also make most kind inquiries For the health of Master Werner, Who, they trust, will soon amend." THIRTEENTH PART. WERNER SUES FOR MARGARETTA. Night, how long and full of terror! When thou bring'st not to the weary With thy shades refreshing slumber, And sweet dreams to comfort him. Restlessly his thoughts are delving In the past's great heaps of rubbish, Where they rake up many fragments Of his former life, and nowhere Can his eyes abide with pleasure; Only gloomy spectres rise up, Which the sunlight soon would banish. Unrefreshed, next to the future Roves the mind from which sweet sleep flies; Forges plans, takes resolutions, Builds up proud and airy castles; But like owls and bats are flying All around them hosts of doubts which Drive away all hope and courage. From the tower-clock struck midnight. On his couch was lying sleepless Werner in the turret-chamber; Through the window beaming faintly Fell a narrow ray of moonlight, While beneath the Rhine did rush. And the sleepless brain of Werner Is by dream-like visions haunted. Once it seemed to him like Sunday; Bells are pealing, horses neighing, Toward the Schwarzwald goes a wedding, He walks at the head as bridegroom, By his side is Margaretta; And she wears a wreath of myrtle. In the village loud rejoicings, And the roads and village street are All with flowers overstrewn. In his priestly robes is standing By the church-door the old Pastor Blessing, beckoning him to enter-- But the vision's thread broke off here For a new one: He imagined At the door there was a knocking; And now enters the odd figure Of his dear old friend Perkéo, With his red nose shining brightly In the dimly-lighted chamber; And he speaks with husky voice thus: "Oh, my lad, with love don't meddle! Love's a fire which consumeth Him who kindles it, completely; And thou art no charcoal-burner! Come then home to the clear Neckar, Come with me to my old wine-tun, Which contains good stuff sufficient All thy love-flames to put out." Next he seems to be transported To an Eastern field of battle. Cries of Allah, sabres whirring; And he soon strikes down a Pashaw From his horse, and brings the crescent To the general, Prince Eugene, Who then claps him on the shoulder: "Well done, my Imperial captain!" From the battle-field his dreaming Flies back to the days of childhood, And his nurse sings in the garden: "Squirrel climbs up on the blackthorn, Squirrel goes up to the tree-top, Squirrel falls into his grave. Had he not so high ascended, Then his fall had been less heavy, Had not broken then his leg." Thus disturbed by all this dreaming, Werner sprang up of a sudden, With long strides walked through his chamber; And his mind was troubled always By the same portentous question: "Shall I ask the Baron for her?" Love well-nigh appeared to him now Just like stolen fruit; he felt that, Like a thief, before the day broke, He had better leave the castle. But just then the sun was rising, With the beauty of a bridegroom In the blush of early morning. "Be ashamed, my heart, great coward! Yes, I'll ask him," cried young Werner. At his breakfast sat the Baron Poring deeply o'er a letter Which the day before was brought him By a messenger from Suabia, From the Danube; where through narrow Valleys the young stream is flowing, And steep limestone rocks are rising From the water which reflects them With their verdant crowns of beech-trees; Thence the man had come on horseback. And the letter read as follows: "Does my comrade still remember His old Hans von Wildenstein? Down the Rhine and Danube many Drops of water have been flowing, Since we in that war together Lay before the bivouac-fire; And I see it by my son's growth, Who is now a strapping fellow-- Four-and-twenty years he reckons. First a page unto his highness The Grand Duke of Würtemberg; Then to Tübingen I sent him. If I by his debts can judge well, Which I had to pay for him there, He must have vast stores of knowledge. Now he stays with me at home, at Wildenstein; is hunting stags here, Hunting foxes, hares and rabbits; But sometimes the rascal even Hunts the peasants' pretty daughters. So 'tis time to think of taming Him beneath the yoke of marriage. If I err not, you, my friend, have Just a daughter suited for him. With old comrades 'tis the custom Not to beat around the bush, but Go straight forward to the business. So I ask you, shall my Damian Start upon a tour of courtship To your castle on the Rhine? Answer soon. Receive the greetings Of thy Hans von Wildenstein! "Postscript: Do you still remember That great brawl we had at Augsburg, And the rage of wealthy Fugger, The ill-humour of his ladies, Two-and-thirty years ago?" With great effort tried the Baron His friend's writing to decipher. Spent a good half-hour upon it Ere he came to its conclusion. Smiling said he then: "A Suabian Is a devil of a fellow. One and all they are unpolished. And coarse-grained is their whole nature; But within their square-built noddles Lie rich stores of clever cunning. Many stupid brainless fellows Might from them obtain supplies. Truly my old Hans now even In old age is calculating Like the best diplomatist. For, his much encumbered, rotten Owl's-nest out there on the Danube, Would be well propped up and rescued By a good rich marriage-portion. Still his plan is worth considering; For, the name of Wildenstein is Well known all throughout the Empire, Since they followed as crusaders In the train of Barbarossa. Let the younker try his chance then!" Werner with most solemn aspect, Dressed in black, the room now entered; Sadness lay on his pale features. In good humour spoke the Baron: "I was wishing just to see you, For I want you to be ready With your pen, and as my faithful Secretary write a letter, And a letter of importance. There's a knight who lives in Suabia Questioning me about my daughter; Asks her hand from me in marriage For his son, the younker Damian. Write him then, how Margaretta Daily grows in grace and beauty; How she--but I need not tell you. Think you are an artist--sketch then With your pen a life-like, faithful Portrait, not a jot forgetting. Also write, to his proposal I do offer no objection, And the younker, if he pleases, May come here and try his fortune." "May come here and try his fortune," Said young Werner, as if dreaming, Mumbling to himself--when grimly Said the Baron: "What's the matter? You have now as long a visage As a protestant old preacher On Good Friday. Is the fever Coming once again to plague you?" Gravely answered him young Werner: "I, my lord, can't write that letter, You must find another penman; For, I come myself as suitor, Come to ask you for your daughter." "Come--to ask you--for your daughter!" In his turn now said the Baron To himself--he made a wry mouth As one playing on the Jew's-harp, And he felt a sudden twitching In his foot from his old enemy Podagra, and gravely said: "My young friend, your brain is truly Still affected with the fever. Hurry quickly to the garden; There stands in the shade a fountain, There is flowing clear cool water; If you dip your head thrice in it Then your fever soon will cool." "Noble lord," now answered Werner, "Spare your jokes, for you may better Use them, when the noble younker Comes here from the land of Suabia. Calm and free from any fever Have I on this step decided, And to Margaretta's father I repeat the same petition." Darkly frowning said the Baron: "Do you want to hear from me then What your own good sense should tell you? Most unwillingly I hurt you With harsh words; I've not forgotten That the wound upon your forehead, Hardly healed yet, you received here By your ardour in my service. He who ventures as a suitor For my daughter first must show me That he comes of noble lineage. Nature has set up strict barriers Round us all with prescient wisdom, To us all our sphere assigning, Wherein we the best may prosper. In the Holy Roman Empire Is each rank defined most clearly-- Nobles, commoners, and peasants. If they keep within their circle, From themselves their race renewing, They'll remain then strong and healthy. Each is then just like a column, Which supports the whole; but never Should these classes mix together. Do you know the consequences? Our descendants would have something Of each class, and yet be nothing-- Shallow, good-for-nothing mongrels, Tossed about, because uprooted From the soil of old tradition. Firm, exclusive must a man be; And his course of life already Must be inborn, an inheritance Coming down through generations. Hence our custom does require Equal rank when people marry; And I hold as law this custom; I shall not allow a stranger To o'erleap this solid barrier, And no trumpeter shall therefore Ever woo a noble lady." Thus the Baron. With great labour Had he put the words together Of this solemn and unusual Theoretical discourse. Meanwhile Hiddigeigei lying There, behind the stove, was listening. At the end assent he nodded, But in thoughtful meditation Raised his paw up to his forehead, Reasoning to himself as follows: "Why do people kiss each other? Never shall I solve this question! I did think at last I'd solved it, Thought that kisses might be useful As a means to stop one's talking, And prevent one from declaiming Bitter stinging words of truth. But, alas, now this solution Seems, I must confess, erroneous; Else young Werner long before this Would have kissed my good old master." To the Baron said young Werner, And his voice was growing hollow: "Much I thank you for this lesson. 'Midst the fir-trees of the mountains, By the green waves of the river, In the sunlight of the May-time, Has my eye been overlooking All these barriers of custom. Thanks, that you have thus recalled them. Also, thanks for all your kindness, Shown to me while on the Rhine. Now my time is up, the meaning Of your words I thus interpret: 'Right about face!' I go gladly. As a suitor fully equal I shall here return, or never. Be not angry then--farewell!" Spoke, and from the room departed, And he knew what must be done now. At the door with troubled glances Still a long while gazed the Baron: "I am really sad," he muttered, "Wherefore is this brave youth's name not Damian von Wildenstein?" Parting, parting, dismal moment! Who first ever did invent it? Surely 'twas a wicked man, far In the Polar Sea, and freezing Round his nose the polar wind blew; And his shaggy, jealous consort, Plagued him, so he no more relished The sweet comfort of the train-oil. O'er his head he drew a yellow, Furry sealskin, and then waving With his fur-protected right hand, To his Ylaleyka spoke he First this harsh and mournful sentence: "Fare-thee-well, from thee I'm parting!" Parting, parting, dismal moment! In his turret-chamber Werner, Was now tying bag and baggage. Fastening up his travelling knapsack: Greets the walls of his snug chamber For the last time, for they seemed then Just like good old friends and comrades. Only these he took farewell of; Margaretta's eyes he could not For the world then have encountered. To the court-yard he descended, Quickly his good horse he saddled. Hoofs then clatter; a sad rider Rode forth from the castle's precincts. In the low ground by the river Stood a walnut-tree; once more there Now he halted with his horse, And once more took up his trumpet; From his overburdened soul then His farewell rang to the castle-- Rang out; don't you know the swan's song, When with death's foreboding o'er him Out into the lake he's swimming? Through the rushes, through the snow-white Water-lilies, rings his death-song: "Lovely world, I now must leave thee; Lovely world I die reluctant!" Thus he blew there. Were those tears which Glistened brightly on his trumpet, Or some rain-drops which had fallen? Onward now; the sharp spurs quickly In the horse's flanks he presses, And is flying at full gallop Round the forest's farthest edge. FOURTEENTH PART. THE BOOK OF SONGS. Werner went to distant countries, Margaretta's heart was blighted; Some few years will now pass over Ere the two are reunited. But, meanwhile, abrupt transitions Are not to my taste, I own; So with songs, like wreaths of flowers, Shall this gap be overstrewn. YOUNG WERNER'S SONGS. I. The moment when I saw thee first, Struck dumb, I stood there dreaming, My thoughts ran into harmonies, Which through my heart were streaming. So here I stand, poor trumpeter, And on the sward am blowing; In words I cannot tell my love, In music it is flowing. II. The moment when I saw thee first, The sixth of March, like lightning, Came quickly from the azure sky A flash, my heart igniting. It burn'd up all that dwelt therein, A dire destruction bringing, But from the ruins, ivy-like, My loved one's name was springing. III. Turn not thy timid glance away, To hide what there doth glisten; Come to the terrace, while I play, And to my music listen. In vain your efforts to escape, I still continue blowing; With magic speed my tunes take shape Into a ladder growing. On these sweet tones' melodious rounds Love gently is ascending; Through bolt and lock still pierce the sounds Which I to thee am sending. Turn not thy timid glance away, To hide what there doth glisten; Come to the terrace while I play, And to my music listen. IV. A merry piece I blew on the shore, How clear my trumpet was pealing! Above the storm the tones did soar Up to the castle stealing. The water-nymph on her crystal couch Hears music through the wild roaring; She rises up to listen well To a human heart's outpouring. And when she dives to her home below, With laughter the fishes she's telling, "O River-children, one doth see Strange things where mortals are dwelling. "There stands someone on shore, in the storm: What do you think he's doing? Blows evermore the same old tune-- The tune of Love's soft wooing." V. Thou Muse of Music, take my thanks, Be praise to thee forever, For teaching me thy Art divine, That Art which faileth never. Though language is a noble thing, There are limits to what it expresses; No speech has uttered yet what lives In the soul's most hidden recesses. It matters not that there are times, When words to us are wanting; For then, within, mysterious sounds Our spell-bound hearts are haunting. It murmurs, hums, it swells and rings, Our hearts seem well-nigh breaking, Till music's glorious hosts burst forth, To forms of life awaking. Oft I should stand before my love A stupid bashful fellow, Were not my trumpet there at hand, And love-songs sweet and mellow. Thou Muse of Music, take my thanks, Be praise to thee forever, For teaching me thy Art divine, That Art which faileth never. VI. The skylark and the raven Are of a different tribe; I feel as if in heaven! That I am not a scribe. The world is not so prosy, The woods with mirth o'erflow, To me life seems all rosy, My trumpet rings hallo. And merry tunes 'tis sending Forth in a constant flow; Who finds these sounds offending May to the cloister go. When ink it shall be raining, Sand fall instead of snow, Then, from my sin abstaining, I nevermore will blow. VII. Where 'neath the bridge the waters foam, Dame Trout was swimming downward, And met her cousin Salmon there: "How are you, river-comrade?" "I'm well," quoth he, "but thought just now: If only lightning flashing, Down there, would strike that stripling dead, Him and his trumpet smashing! The live-long day my fine young sir On shore is promenading; Rhine up, Rhine down, and never stops His hateful serenading." Dame Trout, then smiling, answered him; "Dear cousin, you are spiteful, I, on the contrary, do find The Trumpeter delightful. "If you, like him, could but enjoy Fair Margaretta's favour, To learn the trumpet even now, You would not deem much labour." VIII. I pray that no fair rose for me, By thy dear hands, be broken; A slip of holly evergreen, Be of our love the token. The chaplet green with glossy sheen O'er the fruit good watch is keeping; And all will prick who try to pick What's for another's reaping. The gaudy rose, when Autumn comes, Finds that her beauty waneth; The holly leaf her modest green Through cold and snow retaineth. IX. Her fragrant balm the sweet May night O'er hill and vale is breathing, When through the shrubs with footsteps light To the castle I am stealing. In the garden waves the linden-tree, I climb to its green bower, And from the leafy canopy My song soars to the tower: "Young Werner is the happiest youth In the German Empire dwelling, But who bewitched him thus, forsooth, In words he won't be telling. Hurrah! is all that he will say, How lovely is the month of May, Dear love, I send thee greeting!" With joyous trills the nightingale On the topmost bough is singing, While far o'er mountain and o'er vale The thrilling notes are ringing. The birds are looking all about, Awaking from their slumber; From branch, and bush, and hedge burst out Glad voices without number: "Young Werner is the happiest youth In the German Empire dwelling, But who bewitched him thus, forsooth, In words he won't be telling. Hurrah! is all that he will say, How lovely is the month of May, Dear love, I send thee greeting!" The sounds are heard, are borne along By the river downward flowing; And from afar echoes the song, Fainter and fainter growing. And through the air of rosy morn I see two angels winging, Like a harp's sweet tones, from Heaven borne, I hear their voices singing: "Young Werner is the happiest youth In the German Empire dwelling, But who bewitched him thus, forsooth, In words he won't be telling. Hurrah! is all that he will say, How lovely is the month of May, Dear love, I send thee greeting!" X. Who's clattering from the tower To me a greeting queer? 'Tis, in his nest so cosy, My friend the stork I hear. He's preparing for a journey, O'er sea and land will hie; The Autumn is coming quickly, So now he says good-bye. Art right, that thou dost travel Where warmer skies do smile; From me greet fair Italia, And also Father Nile. There in the south are waiting Far better meals for thee, Than German frogs and paddocks, Poor chafers and ennui! Old fellow, God preserve thee, My blessing take along; For thou, at peaceful night-time, Hast often heard my song. And if perchance thou wert not Asleep within thy nest, Thou must have seen how often With kisses I was blest. But be not, pray, a tell-tale, Be still, old comrade mine, What business have the Moors there With lovers on the Rhine? XI. A settled life I did despise, And so to wandering took; When soon I found, to my surprise, A comfortable nook. But as I lay in rest's soft lap, And hoped for long repose, There broke o'er me a thunder-clap, My stay came to a close. Each year a different plant I see Spring up, with beauty clad; A fool's mad dance this world would be, If 'twere not quite so sad. XII. To life belongs a most unpleasant feature: That not a rose without sharp thorns doth grow, Much as love's yearning stirs our human nature, Through pangs of parting we at last must go. From thy dear eyes, when I my fate was trying, A gleam of love and joy streamed forth to me: Preserve thee God! my joy seemed then undying, Preserve thee God! such joy was not to be. I've suffered much from envy, hatred, sorrow, A weather-beaten wanderer sad and worn; I dreamt of peace and of a happy morrow, When I to thee by angel-guides was borne. To thy dear arms for comfort I was flying, In grateful thanks I vowed my life to thee: Preserve thee God! my joy seemed then undying, Preserve thee God! such joy was not to be. The clouds fly fast, the wind the leaves is sweeping, A heavy shower falls o'er woods and meads: The weather with my parting is in keeping, Gray as the sky my path before me leads. Whatever may come, joy's smile or bitter sighing, Thou lovely maid! I'll think of naught but thee! Preserve thee God! my joy seemed once undying, Preserve thee God! such joy was not for me. SONGS OF THE CAT HIDDIGEIGEI. I. Honest folks are turning lately Their attention to the Muses, And with ease compose their own songs For their daily household uses. Therefore I shall also try it, On light pinions freely winging; For, who dares deny our talent, Takes from cats the right of singing? If I always run to book-stores I shall find it too expensive; And their gaudy books contain oft Naught but trash, weak and offensive. II. When through vales and on the mountains Roars the storm at midnight drear, Clambering over ridge and chimney Hiddigeigei doth appear. Like a spirit he stands up there, Never looked he half so fair; Fire from his eyes is streaming, Fire from his bristling hair. And he howls in fierce wild measure, An old war-cry caterwauling, Which is borne off by the storm-wind, Like the distant thunder rolling. Not a soul then ever sees him, Each is sleeping in his house; But far down, deep in the cellar, Listens the poor trembling mouse. For his voice she recognises, And she knows that, when in rage, Most ferocious is the aspect Of this valiant feline sage. III. From the tower's highest summit Gaze I at the world below; From my lofty seat I'm able To observe life's ceaseless flow. And the cat's green eyes are staring, And he laughs within his sleeve, That those pygmies there are trying Such great follies to achieve. What's the use? Up to my level Never can I raise mankind. Let them follow their devices, Small their loss is, to my mind. For perverted are men's actions, And their work is woe and crash. Conscious of his own great value, Grins the cat down on this trash! IV. O the world does us injustice, And for thanks I look quite vainly; For the finest chords of feline Nature, it mistakes so plainly. Thus, if some one falls down drunken, And a throbbing like a hammer Racks his heavy head on waking, Germans call it _Katzenjammer_. Katzenjammer, oh great insult! Gentle is our caterwauling; Only men I hear too often Through the streets at night-time bawling. Yes! they do us great injustice, Never can be comprehending All the deep and morbid sorrow Which a poor cat's heart is rending. V. Hiddigeigei often has raved with delight, The true, good, and beautiful seeking; Hiddigeigei often felt grief's deadly blight, And with tender sad yearnings was weeping. Hiddigeigei once has felt his heart glow, When the fairest of cats he was wooing; And just as a troubadour's love-songs flow, Rang nightly his spirited mewing. Hiddigeigei many a valiant fight, Like the Paladin Roland, was waging; But men have often belaboured his hide, And with dropping hot pitch made him raging. Hiddigeigei to his sorrow found out, That his fair one was false and deceiving That from a poor insignificant lout She was secretly visits receiving. Hiddigeigei then did open his eyes, Left off his pining and yearning; The world henceforth he learned to despise, To his inner self earnestly turning. VI. Lovely month of May, how hateful To a cat you are, and dreary Ne'er I thought such din of music Could a cat's heart make so weary. From the branches, from the bushes Birds their warbling notes are ringing; Far and wide, as if for money, Men I hear forever singing. There the cook sings in the kitchen-- Is love also her head turning? In falsetto she now screameth, That with rage my soul is burning. Farther upward will I clamber, To the terrace slowly wending. Woe to me, for from the garden Are my neighbour's songs ascending. Even next the roof I cannot Find the rest for which I'm pining; Near me dwells a crazy poet, His own verses ever whining. When despairing to the cellar Down I rush the noise escaping; Ah, above me they are dancing, To the pipes, and fiddles' scraping. Harmless tribe! Your lyric madness You'll continue, while there yonder, In the East, the clouds are gathering, Soon to burst in tragic thunder. VII. May has come now. To the thinker, Who the causes of phenomena Searches, 'tis a natural sequence: In the centre of creation Are two aged white cats standing, Who the world turn on its axis; And their labour there produces The recurring change of seasons. But why is it in the May month That my eyes are ever ogling, That my heart is so impassioned? And why is it that I daily Must be leering sixteen hours From the terrace, as if nailed there, At the fair cat Apollonia, At the black-haired Jewess Rachel? VIII. A strong bulwark 'gainst enticements I have built on good foundations; But to the most virtuous even Sometimes come unsought temptations. And more ardent than in youth's time, The old dream comes o'er me stealing; I on memory's pinions soar up, Filled with burning amorous feeling. Oh fair Naples, land of beauty, With thy nectar-cup thou cheerest! To Sorrento I'd be flying. To a roof to me the dearest. Old Vesuvius and the white sails On the bay are greeting bringing, And the olive-woods are gladdened By the spring-birds' joyous singing. To the Loggia slinks Carmela, Strokes my beard with soft caresses; Of all cats by far the fairest, Lovingly my paw she presses. And she looks on me with longing, But now hark! there is a howling; Is the surf thus loudly roaring? Or is old Vesuvius growling? 'Tis not old Vesuvius growling, For he holds now his vacation. In the yard, destruction vowing, Barks the worst dog in creation-- Barks the worst dog in creation-- Barks Francesco, loudly yelling; And my lovely dream's enchantment He thus rudely is dispelling. IX. Hiddigeigei strictly shunneth What his conscience might be hurting; But he oft connives benignly At his fellow-cats' gay flirting. Hiddigeigei with great ardour Makes the mice-hunt his chief duty; And he frets not if another With sweet music worships beauty. Quoth the wise cat Hiddigeigei: Ere it rots, the fruit be plucking; So, if years should come of famine, Memory's paws remain for sucking. X. Even a God-fearing conduct, Cannot keep us from declining; With despair I see already In my fur some gray hairs shining. Yes, unpitying Time destroyeth All for which we've boldly striven; For against the sharp-toothed tyrant Nature has no weapons given. Unadmired and forgotten We fall victims to this power. Wish I could, with fury raging, Eat both clock-hands of the tower. XI. Long past is the time, ere man in his might O'er the earth his dominion was spreading; When the mammoth roamed in his ancient right Through the forests which crashed 'neath his treading. In vain may'st thou search now far and near For the Lion, the desert's great ruler; But we must remember, that we live here In a climate decidedly cooler. In life and in fiction is given no praise To the great and the highly gifted; And ever weaker is growing the race Till genius to nothing is sifted. When cats disappear the mice raise their voice, Till they like the others skedaddle; At last in mad frolic we hear _them_ rejoice-- The infusoria rabble. XII. Hiddigeigei sees with sorrow To a close his days are drawing; Death may come at any moment, So deep grief his heart is gnawing. O how gladly I the riches Of my wisdom would be preaching, That in joy as well as sorrow Cats might profit from my teaching. Ah! the road of life is rugged; On it rough sharp stones are lying. Stumbling o'er this path so dreary, Sprained and bruised we limp on crying. Life oft useless wounds is giving. For 'tis full of brawls and knavery; Vainly many cats have fallen Victims to an empty bravery. But for what this constant fretting? The young cats are laughing ever, No advice from me accepting-- Only suffering makes them clever. Let us see what they'll accomplish; History's teachings are derided: His sage maxims ne'er to publish, Hiddigeigei has decided. XIII. Growing weaker, breathing harder, Soon I'll feel Death's shadow o'er me: Make my grave there in the store-house, In my former field of glory. Valiantly all round me slaying Fought I like a raging lion: In his armour clad then bury Of his race the last brave scion. Yes the last, because the offspring Win their parents equal never! They are good but wooden people, Not so witty nor as clever. Wooden are they, thinking solely Of the moment, hollow hearted; Only few still hold as sacred The bequests of the departed. But sometime, when years have passed by, In my grave I've long been sleeping, Then will come the angry cat's howl Nightly down upon you sweeping. Hiddigeigei's solemn warning Will you from your slumber waken: Ever fear the coils of dulness! Save yourselves, ye God-forsaken! SONGS OF THE SILENT MAN. FROM THE CAVE OF THE GNOMES. I. Quiet heart! O ponder lonely, Valiant, by no fears assailed; Only in calm meditation Lofty secrets are unveiled. While the storms of life are raging, While mean souls for trifles fight. Thou on wings of song art soaring O'er the mob in purer light. Leave the dusty road to others, And thy soul unsullied keep, A clear mirror, like the ocean, Where the sun has sunk to sleep. O'er the world's loud bustle rising, Soars the eagle lone on high; Cranes and storks, they flock together, But close to the earth do fly. Quiet heart! O ponder lonely, Valiant, by no fears assailed; Only in calm meditation Lofty secrets are unveiled. II. Leave all commonplace forever, Digging deeply, upward soaring; For rich Nibelungen-treasures Lie all ready for exploring. From the mountains we see shining Distant seas and shores of beauty; While beneath we hear the booming Of the gnomes hard at their duty. Manna-like is spread around us Spiritual food abundant; And before our vision rises The old truth with light redundant-- As coarse threads and fine together In _one_ net are intertwisting, So the same laws are forever For the small and great existing. But a point comes,--sad confession?-- Where to pause, our thoughts restraining; At the limit of perception Is mysterious silence reigning. III. Past me wander beings pallid, Fill the air with words of anguish: All our doings are invalid, Sick and old, we slowly languish. Have you ne'er the wondrous story Found in ancient books related, Of the spring, wherein the hoary Plunged, then rose rejuvenated? And this fountain is no fiction, Within reach of all 'tis flowing; But you've lost the true direction, Farther from its traces going. In the forests' verdant bowers, Where deep calm the soul entrances, Where on graceful ferns and flowers Elves sweep through their nightly dances: There by stones and moss well hidden, Rush the waters from the mountain; From Earth's bosom springs unbidden, Ever fresh, this magic fountain. There with peace the soul is ravished; There the mind regains its powers; And the wealth of Spring is lavished O'er old wounds in blossom-showers. IV. Wilt thou know the world more clearly, See then what before thee lies; How from matter and from forces The whole fabric doth arise. Of the fixed forms of creation Thou the moving cause must see; In the changes of phenomena Find what lasts eternally. In presumptuous opinions Fresh pure seeds ne'er germinate; By deep meditation only Human minds explore, create. V. With the eagle's piercing sight endowed, And the heart with hope o'erflowing, I found myself with a mounted crowd To thought's fierce battle going. The banners high, the lance in rest, The enemy's ranks were broken. On their broad backs, O what a jest, To mark a nice blue token! We came at last to the end of our course, O'er our failure in knowledge repining; Then slowly I turned my gallant horse, Myself to silence resigning; Too proud to believe--my thoughts all free,-- To the cave as a refuge flying. The world is far too shallow for me, The core is deeper lying. I for my weapons no longer care, In the corner there they lie rusting. No priggish fool to provoke me shall dare, To my valour alone I am trusting. These owls and bats a look alone Suffices to abolish; Still serveth well an ass's bone, The Philistines to demolish. VI. Be proud, and thy lot nobly bear, From tears and sighs desisting; Like thee will many others fare, While thinkers are existing. There are many problems left unsolved By former speculations; But when thou art to dust resolved, Come other generations. The wrinkles on thy lofty brow Let them go on increasing, They are the scars which show us how Thought's struggle was unceasing. And if no laurel-crown to thee To deck thy brow be given; Still be thou proud; thy soul so free For thought alone has striven. SOME OF MARGARETTA'S SONGS. I. How proud he is and stately! How noble is his air! A trumpeter he's only, Yet I for him do care. And owned he castles seven, He could not look more fair. O would to him were given Another name to bear! Ah, were he but a noble, A knight of the Golden Fleece! Love, thou art full of trouble, Love, thou art full of peace. II. Two days now have passed already, Since I gave him that first kiss; Ever since that fatal hour All with me has gone amiss. My dear little room, so pretty, Where so nice a life I led, Is now in such dire confusion. That it almost turns my head. My sweet roses and carnations, Withered now, for care ye pine! Oh, I think, instead of water, I have deluged you with wine. My dear lovely snow-white pigeon Has no water and no bread; And the goldfinch in his cage there Looks as if he were half dead. I am putting blue and red yarn In my white net as I knit; And I work in my embroidery White wool where it doth not fit. Where are Parcival and Theuerdank? If I only, only knew! I believe that I those poets In the kitchen-pantry threw. And the kitchen plates are standing On the book-case--what a shame! Ah, for all these many blunders I my love, my love must blame! III. Away he is gone in the wide wide world; No word of farewell has he spoken. Thou fresh young player in wood and mead, Thou sun whose light is my daily need, When wilt thou send me a token? I hardly had time in his eyes to gaze, When the dream already had vanished; Oh Love, why dost thou two lovers unite, With thy burning torch their hearts ignite, When their bliss so soon must be banished? And where does he go? The world is so large, So full of deep snares for a rover. He even may go to Italia, where The women, I hear, are so false and so fair! May Heaven protect my dear lover. FIVE YEARS LATER. WERNER'S SONGS FROM ITALY. I. Too well were all things going, Therefore it could not last; My cheeks my grief are showing, Misfortune came too fast. The violet and clover, The flowers all are gone. 'Mid frost and snow, a rover I wander sad alone. Good luck will never favour The man who nothing dares; But he who does not waver The smile of fortune shares. II. A lonely rock juts upward Just by the craggy strand; The angry foaming waters Have torn it from the land. Now in green waves half sunken Defiantly it lies; The snow-white gulls are flying Around it with shrill cries. There on the heaving billows Is dancing a light boat; The sounds of plaintive singing Up to the lone rock float: "O that I to my country, And to my love were borne; O home in dear old Rhine-land, For thee my heart is torn!" III. Bewitched I am by the summer night, In silent thought I am riding; Bright glow-worms through the thicket fly Like happy dreams, which in times gone by My longing heart were delighting. Bewitched I am by the summer night. In silent thought I am riding; The golden stars shine so far and bright, In the water's fair bosom is mirrored their light, As, in Time's deep sea, love abiding. Bewitched I am by the summer night, In silent thought I am riding; The nightingale sings from the myrtle tree, He warbles so meltingly, tenderly, As if Fate his heart had been blighting. Bewitched I am by the summer night, In silent thought I am riding; The sea rises high, the waves do frown; Wherefore these useless tears which down The rider's wan cheeks are gliding? IV. 'Neath the waves the sun is going, With bright hues the sky is glowing, Twilight o'er the earth is stealing, Far-off evening bells are pealing: Thee I think of, Margaretta. On the rocky crag I'm lying, Stranger in a strange land sighing; Round my feet the waves are dancing, Through my soul float dreams entrancing: Thee I think of, Margaretta. V. Oh Roman girl, why lookest thou At me with burning glances? Thine eye, though beautiful it be, The stranger ne'er entrances. Beyond the Alps there is a grave, The Rhine watch o'er it keepeth; And three wild roses bloom thereon; Therein my love-dream sleepeth. Oh Roman girl, why lookest thou At me with burning glances? Thine eye, though beautiful it be, The stranger ne'er entrances. VI. Outside the gates when walking, I see of life no trace; There is the wide-spread graveyard Of the ancient Roman race. They rest from love and hatred, From pleasure, strife, and guilt; There in the Appian Way are Their tombs of marble built A tower greets me, gilded By the setting sun's last rays-- Cæcilia Metella, At thy proud tomb I gaze. My eyes are turning northward, As 'mid this pile I stand; My thoughts are swiftly flying Far from this southern land, On to another tower, With stones of smaller size; By the shady vine-clad window I see my love's sweet eyes. VII. The world lies now encircled By the frosty winter night. No use that by the hearth-stone I think of love's sad flight. The logs will soon be burnt out, To ashes all will fall; The embers will cease glowing, That is the end of all. It is the same old story, I think of nothing more But silence and forgetting-- Forget what I adore? VIII. The crowd it frolics, shouts and sings, Disturbs Rome's usual quiet; Mad folly high her banner swings, And thronging masks run riot. Now up and down the Corso pace Gay coaches 'mid wild showers; The Carnival's great sport takes place, The fight with chalk and flowers. Confetti and fair roses fly, Bouquets are thickly raining. That hit--good luck! how glows her eye! Thou art the victory gaining. And thou, my heart, mirth also show, Forget what thou hast suffered; Let bygone times and bygone woe With flowers sweet be covered. IX. By the clear green Lake of Nemi An old maple-tree doth grow; Through its lofty leafy summit The breezes sadly blow. By the clear green Lake of Nemi A young musician lies, He hums a song, while many Tears glisten in his eyes. On the clear green Lake of Nemi The waves so gently flow; The maple and musician Their own minds do not know. By the clear green Lake of Nemi Is the best inn of the land; Praiseworthy macaroni, And wine of famous brand. The maple and musician Are crazy both, I think; Else they would go there yonder, Grow sane by honest drink. X. My heart is filled with rancour, The storm howls all around; Thou art the man I want now, Thou false Italian hound. Thy dagger's thrust I parried; Now, worthy friend, beware How from a German sword's stroke Thy Italian skull will fare. The sun's last rays had vanished Far from the Vatican; It rose to shine next morning Upon a lifeless man. XI. Oh Ponte Molle, thou bridge of renown, Near thee many draughts have I swallowed down, From bottles in wicker-work braided. Oh Ponte Molle, what is the cause That I between my glasses now pause, Can hardly to drink be persuaded? Oh Ponte Molle, 'tis strange in truth, That the lovely days of my vanished youth And love's old dream are recurring. Through the land the hot sirocco blows, And within my heart the old flame glows, Sweet music within me is stirring. Oh Tiber-stream, oh St. Peter's dome, Oh thou all-powerful ancient Rome, Naught care I for all thou containest. Where'er in my restless wanderings I rove, My gentle and lovely Schwarzwald-love, The fairest on earth thou remainest! Oh Ponte Molle, how lovely was she! And if I thousands of girls should see, To love but the one I am willing. And if ever thy solid pile should bear The weight of her footsteps, I will swear, Even thy cold frame would be thrilling. But useless the longing and useless the woe, The sun is too ardent so far to go, And flying is not yet invented. Padrone, another bottle of wine! This Orvieto so pearly and fine Makes even a sad heart contented. Oh Ponte Molle, thou bridge of renown, Hast thou on my head called witchcraft down For my love-sick and dreamy talking? A cloud of dust whirls up to the sky, A herd of oxen now passing by Blocks up the way I am walking. XII. (_Monte testaccio._) I do not know what the end will be; O'er the low ground spreads the gloaming, The ominous bat already I see As she starts on her nightly roaming. On Ponte Molle all is still, I think the good old hostess will Very soon the inn be closing. A little owl I hear there screech In the cypress grove 'tis hiding; Campagna fogs up there now reach, Over gate and city gliding. They roll and float like ghostly troops Round Cestius' Pyramid in groups; What are the dead there wanting? Now bursts a light around the hill, The leaden gray clouds are fast going; The full moon's face rises slow and still, With envy's yellow hue glowing. She shines so pale, she shines so cold, Right into the goblet which I hold; That cannot be a good omen. He who from his sweetheart is torn away, Will love her more dearly than ever; And who doth long in the night-air stay, Will catch most surely a fever. And now the hostess the light puts out, Felice notte! I back to her shout; The bill I'll settle to-morrow. XIII. Awaking from my slumber I hear the skylark sing; The rosy morning greets me, The fresh young day of Spring. In the garden waves the palm-tree Mysteriously its crown, And on the distant sea-shore The surf rolls up and down; And azure-blue the heavens, The golden sun so bright; My heart, what more is wanting? Chime in with all thy might! And now pour out thy praises To God, who oft gave proof, He never would forsake thee-- 'Tis thou who kept aloof. XIV. To serve, to serve! an evil ring, Has this word so harsh and frigid; My love is gone, my life's sweet Spring; My heart, become not rigid. My trumpet looks so sad to-day, With crape around it winding; In a cage they put the player gay, Lay on him fetters binding. Deep grief and pain infest his way, His heart with arrows stinging; For his daily bread he has to play, He can no more be singing. Who on the Rhine sang to his lyre. Of all save joy unheeding, Is now--sad fate--the Pope's great choir In the Sistine Chapel leading. FIFTEENTH PART. THE MEETING IN ROME. Scorching lay the heat of summer Over Rome, th' Eternal City; Sluggishly his yellow waters Rolls the Tiber, rolls them seaward, Through the sultry air; however, Not so much from choice, but rather From a sense of duty, knowing That it is a river's business. Deep down at the river's bottom, Sat old Tiber, and he muttered: "Oh how slowly time is dragging! I am weary! Would the end were Of this dull monotonous motion! Will no storm ere raise a flood-tide, To engulf this little country, And drag all the brooks and rivers, Also me--the river veteran-- And embrace us all together In the ocean's mighty bosom? E'en to wash the walls forever Of old Rome I find most tedious. And what matter that this region And myself are held as classic? Vanished, turned to dust and ashes, Are those genial Roman poets, Who, their brows adorned with laurel, And their hearts imbued with rhythm, Formerly have sung my praises. Then came others, long since vanished, Others followed in their stead, like Pictures in a magic lantern. Well! to me 'tis all the same, if Only they would not disturb me. Oh what have these busy mortals Thrown into my quiet waters, Quite regardless of my comfort! Where my nymphs with sacred rushes Had arranged for me a pillow, For my usual siesta, There now lie great heaps of rubbish, Roman helmets, Gaulish weapons, Old utensils of Etruria, And the lovely marble statues Which once from the tomb of Hadrian Down upon thick-headed Goths fell; And the bones all mixed together Of defenders and aggressors; Just as if my river-bed were An historic lumber chamber. Oh how sick I am and weary! Worn-out world, when wilt thou die?" Whilst now thus the worthy Tiber Gave full vent unto his anger By this discontented grumbling, There above gay life was surging, And arrayed in festal garments Crowds went toward the Vatican. On St. Angelo's Bridge was hardly Room enough for all the passers. Crowding came in Spanish mantles, Wigs and swords, the grand Signori; Then some black Franciscan friars, Also Capuchins, and common Roman burghers. Here and there a Sun-burnt and wild-looking shepherd Of the near Campagna wore with Classic grace his tattered garment; And among them, with light footsteps, Walked the lovely Roman maidens, With black veils, although this covering Did not hide their fervent glances. (O how can the glowing sunshine, Even when its rays are gathered By adepts in their reflectors, E'er compare with Roman glances? Heart which felt their flames, be silent!) From the castle of St. Angelo Flutter gaily many banners, Bearing all the Pope's insignia, Both the mitre and the crossed keys, Giving notice of the feast-day Kept in honour of St. Peter. There before the proud cathedral Were the sparkling fountains playing; Through the spray the vivid rainbow Glitters o'er the granite basins. And the obelisk gigantic Of Rameses, King of Egypt, Looked upon the crowd of people, In his native tongue lamenting: "Most perplexing are these Romans! In the time of Nero hardly Did I comprehend their doings; Now still less I understand them. But this much I have discovered, That the climate here is chilly. Amun-Rè, thou god of sunlight, Take me home to my old friends there, To the Sphinx, and let me once more Hear the prayer of Memnon's column Through the glowing desert ringing!" On the broad steps of the Vatican And beneath the marble columns Tall Swiss halberdiers are walking To and fro in keeping watch there. Clanging through the hall the echo Of their heavy tread is ringing. To the gray old corporal turning Speaks a youthful soldier sadly: "Fine, indeed, and proud we Swiss are, And I see no other soldiers In the streets of Rome as jaunty As we look with our cuirasses, In the black, red, yellow doublet. Many burning glances shyly From the windows fall upon us; But the heart is wildly yearning Homeward, homeward for the mountains, As at Strasburg on the bulwarks When the Alpine horn was blowing. Willingly would I give up all, Earnest money, silver scudi, E'en the Holy Father's blessing, E'en the wine of Orvieto Which pearls sweetly in the goblet, Could I once again be chasing Boldly on their tracks the chamois O'er the rocks, near avalanches, On the craggy steep Pilatus; Or steal gently in the moonlight Over fragrant Alpine meadows To the faintly-lighted cottage, To the dairy-maid, the light-haired Kunigund of Appenzell; And then greet the golden sunrise With a joyful heartfelt jodel. Oh Saint Peter, thy fine music I should miss without regretting, Could I hear again the well-known Sharp shrill whistle of the marmot In its lonely Alpine cave!" On the steps of the cathedral Stood in crowds close packed together Elegant and idle dandies, Holding muster over all the Carriages and great state coaches Which came quickly driving up there. "Do you see the Eminenza With that round face like the full moon, With the double chin, he's leaning On the servant in rich livery? 'Tis the Cardinal Borghese. He would rather now be sitting Quiet in the Sabine mountains In the airy villa by the Rural beauty Donna Baldi. He's a man of taste, a scholar, Loves the classics, and especially Doth he love the true Bucolic." "Who is that?" now asked another, "That imposing-looking person? Don't you see there what a splendid Chain of honour he is wearing; How he shakes his periwig now Like th' Olympian Jupiter?" "What, you do not known him?" answered Then loquaciously another, "Him, the Chevalier Bernini? Who has just restored the Pantheon, Who upon St. Peter's also Has bestowed such rich adornments, And the golden tabernacle Built o'er Peter's grave, which cost more Than a hundred thousand scudi. Take your hat off! Since the world was, Has she seen no greater master, Nor--" He was then interrupted By a man with gray moustaches, Who his shoulder tapped and scornful Said: "You are mistaken; never Saw the world a greater bungler! I say this, Salvator Rosa." Coaches come, in front postilions; Splendid uniforms are glittering And with retinue attended Steps an aged lady onward To the portal of the Dome. "How she's fading," said then someone, "The illustrious Queen of Sweden! Do you still recall her lovely Looks when first she made her entrance? Then the Gate del Popolo looked Just as if built out of flowers; And as far as Ponte Molle Came the Romans out to greet her. Down the long street of the Corso Unto the Venetian Palace Were the shouts of joy unending. Do you see that little hunchback Standing there, who now is sneezing? He stands high in grace and favour As one of the queen's attendants. He's a scholar of deep learning, The philologist Naudaeus. He knows everything that happened, And sometime ago he even, Over there at Prince Corsini's, Danced an ancient Saltarello To instruct the royal party, Whose loud laughter was heard plainly Even far off by the Tiber." In the throng now quite unnoticed Came a heavy lumbering carriage; In it were two black-robed ladies; On the box sat worthy Anton As their coachman, calling loudly: "Room ye people for the gracious Lady Abbess and my mistress!" Called in German, which roused laughter. With bewildered eyes he looked round At the foreign scene, and just then Passing by the queen's attendants, He beheld a gray old coachman, And he muttered from his coach-box: "Don't I know thee, Swedish rascal? Didst thou not belong once to the Regiment of Sudermanland? Do you now expect my thanks here For the cut you had the kindness To bestow upon my arm once In the fight at Nuremberg? A most marvellous place is truly This old Rome, for long-forgotten Friends and foes meet here again!" On the classic soil of Italy Now my song greets Margaretta. Gladly would it strew its fairest Blossoms on the path to welcome And to cheer this pallid maiden, So that smiles might light her features; For, since Werner left the castle, Pleasure had become a stranger. Only once they saw her laughing, When the Suabian younker came there; But it was a bitter laughter, Harsh, discordant as a string sounds On a mandolin when snapping; And the younker then returned thence Single, as from home he started. Silently the maiden sorrowed As the months and years sped onward; Till at last the Princess Abbess, Filled with pity, told the Baron: "On our soil your child no longer Thrives as heretofore, but slowly Her poor heart from grief is withering. Change of air oft worketh wonders. Let me take then Margaretta With me to the Holy City, Where in spite of age I'm going; For, in Chur the wicked bishop Threatens to deprive our convent Of our fairest Swiss possessions, And I shall complain of him there, Saying to the Holy Father: 'Show me mercy, justly punish The harsh bishop of the Grisons.'" Said the Baron: "Take her with you; And may Heaven grant its blessing, That you may bring back my daughter Rosy-cheeked and happy-hearted." Thus to Italy they travelled With old Anton as their coachman. Now the carriage-door he opened, And alighting, the old Abbess, Followed by fair Margaretta, Walked up to the church and entered. Margaretta gazed in wonder At the vastness of the building, Where man seems reduced to nothing; At the giant marble columns, And the dome with gold overladen. In the niche of the great nave stands The bronze statue of St. Peter, Which this day in papal vestments Was arrayed, the gold brocade robe Hanging stiffly on the statue; On the head the Bishop's mitre. And they saw how many people Kissed the foot of this bronze statue. Then a papal chamberlain led Both the German ladies forward To a seat close by the altar, Place of honour kept for strangers. Now was heard the sound of music; And the Holy Father coming Through the side-door from the Vatican Made his entrance to St. Peter's. Stout Swiss halberdiers were marching At the head of the procession, Followed by the celebrated Singers of the papal choir. Heavy music-books were carried By the choristers, some hardly Strong enough to bear the folios. Then there came in motley order Monsignori robed in violet; Abbots followed then and prelates, And the canons of St. Peter's, Heavy looking, their fat figures Corresponding to their livings. Leaning on his staff the General Of the Capuchins walked slowly For a load of more than ninety Years was resting on his shoulders; But his brain was working out still Many plans with youthful vigour. With Franciscans from the cloister Ara c[oe]li also came the Prior of Pallazuola. By the shores of Lake Albano, 'Neath the shade of Monte Cavo, Stands his little monastery, Peaceful spot for idle dreamers. On he walked in deep thought buried; And who knows wherefore his mutterings Did not sound like prayer, but more like "Fare-thee-well, Amalia." After them the choicest portion, All the cardinals, were walking, Their long robes of scarlet colour On the marble pavement trailing. "Heart, be patient," so was thinking Cardinal di Ottoboni; "Now I'm second to the Pope yet, But in seven years most likely I shall mount St Peter's chair." Then a train of cavaliers came With their shining swords, and followed In strict military order; 'Twas the Pope's own guard of honour. And at last the Holy Father Made his entrance, being carried On a throne by eight strong bearers. O'er his head were held by pages The great fans of peacock-feathers. Snow-white were his festal garments; And his right hand, raised in blessing, Wore the signet-ring of Peter. Low the crowd knelt down in silence. At the foot of the High Altar The procession had arrived now, And the Pope held solemn service Over the Apostle's grave. Solemnly and gravely sounded The peculiar choral measures Which old Master Palestrina Had in his strict style composed. And the aged Lady Abbess Prayed with fervent deep devotion. But fair Margaretta's glances Were directed up to heaven, Whence these solemn strains of music Seemed to her to be descending. But her eye was then attracted To the singers' box--she trembled: For, amid the group of singers, Though half hidden by a column, Stood a stately light-haired figure. And again she looked now upward; From her sight the Pope had vanished, All the Cardinals had vanished, Likewise all the nine-and-eighty Burning lamps o'er Peter's grave. "My old dream, dost thou return then? My old dream, why dost thou haunt me Even in these sacred precincts?" The last notes had died out softly, And the Holy Mass was ended. "Oh how pale you look, dear lady!" Said the aged Lady Abbess. "Take my vial, it will help you, It contains the finest essence Which I bought myself in Florence At the cloister of San Marco." The procession of the singers Passed just then before the ladies. "God in heaven! oh have mercy! Yes, 'tis he! I know the scar there On his brow--it is my Werner!" Dark before her eyes it grew now, And her heart was beating wildly. No more could her feet support her, And the maiden sank down fainting On the hard cold floor of marble. SIXTEENTH PART. SOLUTION AND END. Innocentius the Eleventh Was kind-hearted; and his dinner He had just now greatly relished. At dessert he still was sitting, And while luscious fruit enjoying, Said to Cardinal Albani: "Who was that young pallid lady, Who this morning in St. Peter's Fell upon the floor and fainted?" Answered Cardinal Albani: "On this subject just at present I can give no information; But the Monsignor Venusto I will ask, for he knows always What in Rome is daily happening; Knows what in salons is gossiped, What the senators are doing, What is drunk by Flemish artists, What is sung by Prima Donnas, Even what the puppet-show is Playing on the Square Navona. There is naught the Monsignore Can't unravel and discover." E'en before was served the coffee (At that time this was a novel Beverage and rarely taken, Only on the highest feast-days) Had the Cardinal already Learnt the facts. He thus related: "This pale maiden is a noble Lady, who has travelled hither With that German Princess Abbess; And she saw--most marvellously-- In the church a man this morning, Whom she once had lost her heart with, And whom, still more marvellously, She unto this day is loving, Notwithstanding and in spite of Want of noble birth and titles, And her father's stem refusal. And the cause of this her fainting Is, again most marvellously, No one else but Signor Werner, Chapel-master to your Holiness. This the Monsignor Venusto Heard to-day, when on a visit To the Abbess who related Confidentially these facts." Then the Pope said: "This is truly A most strange and touching meeting. Were the subject not too modern, And the actors of the drama Not such semi-barbarous Germans, Then some poet might win laurels In the sweet groves of Arcadia, Should he sing this wondrous meeting. But I truly take an interest In the grave young Signor Werner. Greatly has improved the singing Of my choir, since he leads it, And the taste for solemn music; While my own Italian singers Care too much for operatic Tunes of lighter character. Quietly he does his duty, Of his own accord ne'er speaking; Never begs of me a favour; Never was his hand extended To receive the gifts of bribery. Yet examples of corruption Are more frequent with us, surely, Than the fleas in sultry summer. Monsignor Venusto knows this! Seems to me that this grave German Is consumed by secret sorrow. I should really like to know now, If he's thinking of his love yet?" Said the Cardinal Albani: "I well-nigh may answer for this. In the books kept on the conduct Of all high and low officials In the State and Church departments, It is mentioned as a wonder That he strictly shuns all women. First we nourished a suspicion That his heart had fallen victim To the charms of the fair hostess Of the inn near Vale Egeria. He was seen each evening strolling Through the Porta Sebastiano, And outside there is no dwelling But the tavern just now mentioned. Thus such nightly promenading Of one yet in early manhood Could not but arouse suspicion. Therefore we once sent two persons Carefully to track his footsteps, But they found him 'mid the ruined Tombs along the Appian Way. There had once a great patrician Built a tomb to his freed woman, Whom he'd brought as a remembrance From Judæa, at the time of The destruction of the Temple. She was called Zatcha Achyba. There he sat, the spies related; 'Twas a subject for an artist: The Campagna's sombre landscape; Moonlight on the marble tombstone; He his mantle wrapped around him; Mournfully he blew his trumpet Through the gloomy lonely silence. This had brought upon him later Many mocking jeers like this one: 'Signor Werner is composing For the Jewess there a requiem.'" At this smiled the Holy Father, And the Cardinals did likewise; Following these high examples, All the chamberlains smiled also; Even Carlo Dolci's features Now relaxed their gloomy sadness. And the Pope said: "We must all have Great respect for this young German. It were well if many others Who at night away are stealing, To the Appian Way were going. Signor Werner, I assure you, Stands most high in my good graces, And to-morrow he shall see it; For, I recollect, I've granted Then an audience to the Abbess." On the first day of July in Sixteen hundred seventy-nine, there Rose the sun with special glory. Cooling blew the tramontana Through the cypresses and myrtles In the Vatican's fair garden; And the half-parched flowers gladly Raised their heads, breathed out fresh fragrance, O'er the bronze gigantic pine-cone,-- Which once Hadrian's museum Had adorned, and now was living 'Mid the jessamines and roses, As a pensioner contented,-- Lively lizards swiftly glided, Snapping at the tiny insects Ever dancing in the sunshine. Fountains played, and birds were singing; E'en the pale old marble statues With warm life became imbued. And the satyr, with his reed flute, Raised his foot as if intending To go dancing round the garden; But Apollo's hand waved warning: "Friend, those times have passed forever; Thou wouldst only raise a scandal." Bathed in sunlight, Rome looks smiling O'er the river at the Vatican; From the sea of houses, churches, And fair palaces, the Quirinal Proudly rises; in the distance Towers up the Capitolium In the violet autumn haze. Through the Boscareccio's verdant Alleys swept the shining white robe Of His Holiness, who kindly To the Abbess and the maiden Here had granted audience. And the Abbess gained assurance, That her lawsuit would be taken Into prompt consideration. Then to Margaretta turning. Said the Pope: "None of the pilgrims Ever leave Rome without comfort; So I, as the soul's physician, Must prevent another fainting." And he whispered to a servant: "Go and fetch the chapel-master." Werner came: to stately manhood In this southern clime he'd ripened Since he left, a hopeless suitor, The old castle in the Rhine-land. Life's wild whirlpool, since that morning, Had well tossed him hither thither. Willingly I would relate here, How he went to many countries; How o'er land and sea he travelled; How he with the Knights of Malta Cruised against the Turkish corsairs; Till at last a fate mysterious Unto Rome had duly brought him. But my song becomes impatient; Like a driver who is snapping At the door his whip, 'tis calling: "Onward! On to the conclusion!" Werner came; bewildered gazed he Twice, yes thrice, at Margaretta, Gazed at her in utter silence; But his glances did express more Than a printed folio volume. 'Twas the glance with which Ulysses Sitting by the suitors' corpses Gazed upon his consort, from whom He by twenty years of wandering And of suffering had been parted. Innocentius the Eleventh Was kind-hearted, a discerner Of men's hearts. Most kindly said he: "Those whom Providence united In His goodness and His wisdom, Shall no more be separated. Yesterday when in St. Peter's, And to-day here in the garden, I have come to the conviction, That there is a case here waiting For my papal interference. "'Tis indeed a mighty power Love, a power all subduing; Than light even more ethereal, Doth it penetrate all barriers, And the chair of Peter also Is not safe from its invasion When it asks us for our help. "But it is a pleasant duty Of the head of Christendom, To make smooth the path of lovers, Every obstacle removing, That true love may be victorious. And of all the various nations, 'Tis the Germans who beyond all Keep us busy with such matters. So the Count of Gleichen brought here With him a fair Turkish consort From the Holy Land, though knowing His own consort still was living. And our annals make full mention Of our predecessor's troubles Brought about by this wild action. So likewise the most unhappy Of all knights came here, Tannhauser: "'Pope Urbano, Pope Urbano, Heal the sick man held as captive Seven years within the mountain Of the wicked goddess Venus!' But to-day the case is different And more pleasing; there is nothing Which conflicts with any canon. There is only a slight scruple-- If I've heard right--with the Baron. You, my Werner, have been faithful, But I read 'neath all this quiet Resignation to your duty, That reluctantly you sang here, As a caged-up bird is singing. Oft you've asked for your dismission, Which I ever did deny you, And to-day would never grant you, If it only were the custom, That the papal chapel-master Could like other mortals marry. But in Rome we must keep always, As you know, traditions sacred; Palestrina for this reason Went himself to foreign lands. "Therefore go with my full favour; And because the lady's father Thinks the name of Werner Kirchhof Much too simple, so I grant you Knighthood by my sovereign power. You, I know, care naught about it; For you by your art ennobled Think such titles of no moment. But perhaps the gracious lady May consider it more proper, To bestow her hand in marriage On the Marquis Camposanto Rather than on Master Werner. And because I hold the power Both to bind as well as loosen, I now solemnly betroth you. E'en this loveless age rejoices At examples of devotion. You have shown one--be then happy, And receive my papal blessing." This he spoke with much emotion. And overwhelmed with grateful feelings Werner knelt with Margaretta Down before the Holy Father; And the Abbess wept so freely That the grass thought it was raining. With the tears of the good Abbess Closes now the touching story Of the young musician Werner And the lovely Margaretta. But who's wandering late at night-time Through the Corso, who is stealing Through that dark and narrow side-street? 'Tis the faithful coachman Anton; Filled with joy is his whole being. To give vent unto this feeling He is going to the wine-house, To the tavern del Fachino. And to-night he is not drinking Country wine in fogliette; He has ordered a straw-covered Bottle of good Orvieto And of Monte Porzio. Panes are crashing, fragments flying; For he throws each empty bottle In his rapture through the window. Though indignant at the oil-drops Which upon the wine are floating, Just like comets in the ether, Still he drinks and drinks with ardour; Only while the tavern-keeper Went to fetch him the sixth bottle From the cellar, thus he spoke out: "Thou, oh heart of an old coachman, Now rejoice, for soon thou'lt harness Thy good horses and drive homeward. From the standpoint of a coachman Italy is but a mournful Land, behind in every comfort. Horrid roads, and frequent toll-gates, Musty stalls, and oats quite meagre, Coaches rough! I feel insulted Every time I see those waggons Drawn by oxen yoked together. The first element is wanting Of a coachman's daily comfort, 'Tis the handy German hostler. Oh how much I miss those worthies! Oh how gladly I will welcome One in pointed cap and apron! In my joy again to see him I will hug and even kiss him. And at home what great surprises Are in store! Oh never was I So impressed with the grave duties Of a coachman as at present At a proud trot, such as never Has been seen in this whole country, Shall I drive my lord and ladies Home through Florence and Milan. "At Schaffhausen, the last station For our night's rest, I must promptly Send a messenger on horseback, And he must alarm the city: 'Put up quickly all your banners, Load your cannons for saluting, And erect an arch of honour!' Then we enter the next evening Through the ancient gate in triumph, And my whip I'll crack so loudly That the town-house windows rattle. Then I hear the aged Baron Asking sharply: 'What's the meaning Of these banners and this uproar?' From afar I shout already: 'Heaven's blessing rests upon us; Here a bridal pair are coming, And, my lord, they are your children.' This day ne'er shall be forgotten! In remembrance shall the tom-cat Hiddigeigei have a genuine Whole well-smoked Italian sausage. For the sake of after ages Must the good schoolmaster make me A fine poem on this subject; I don't care, e'en should it cost me The amount of two whole thalers, And it must conclude as follows: 'From true love and trumpet-blowing Many useful things are springing; For true love and trumpet-blowing E'en a noble wife are winning. May true love and trumpet-blowing Each one find good fortune bringing, As our trumpeter young Werner, On the Rhine at old Säkkingen.'" THE END. NOTES. The town of Säkkingen, where the scene of this poem is laid, is situated amid beautiful scenery on the outskirts of the Schwarzwald (Black Forest), on the right bank of the Rhine, and on the road from Basel to Constance, about 30 miles above the former place. The town owes its origin to the settlement of St. Fridolinus (as related in the Third Part of the poem), who came here from Ireland in the 6th century, and founded a monastery, afterwards converted into a convent for noble ladies. The settlement was made on an island in the Rhine. In the poem the town is still considered as lying on an island, but according to the legend, St. Fridolinus altered the course of the Rhine, leading its waters entirely to the west side of the island. The castle of Schoenau, on the site of the old castle of the Baron, the father of the heroine of the story, stands close to the Rhine, and is now the seat of Mr. Theodore Bally, the well-known wealthy and benevolent proprietor of large silk manufactories. He has caused the old tower of the castle to be restored, and intends to adorn its walls with frescoes, representing scenes from the poem. _Page_ 1.--Michele Pagano, a very popular hotel-keeper in Capri, whose hotel was mostly frequented by German artists. He died only very recently, universally regretted. _Page_ 3.--The cat Hiddigeigei, the old Baron's cat, with which the reader will become better acquainted as a philosophising cat in the course of the poem. _Page_ 5.--Amaranth, a poem by Oscar von Redwitz, published a few years before "The Trumpeter of Säkkingen," and at that time very popular, especially with certain classes in Germany. _Page_ 13.--The Boezberg, a mountain in the Jura, over which the old road from Basel to Zürich led. Now the railroad between the two places pierces it with a tunnel. --The Hozzenwald, the Hauenstein mountains. See note to page 15. --The Gallus Tower, an old tower at the upper extremity of Säkkingen, properly called after St. Gallus, now used as a house of refuge for homeless people. _Page_ 14.--The graveyard of Säkkingen contains still the tombstone of the hero and heroine of the poem. Their names, as given there, are Franz Werner Kirchhofer and Marie Ursula von Schoenau. The first died in May, 1690, the latter in March of the following year. _Page_ 15.--The Eggberg is one of the mountains in the Hauenstein country, to the north of Säkkingen. The inhabitants of this country were formerly remarkable for their quaint costumes coming down from the 15th century. The men wore shirts with large frills around the neck, red stomachers, long black jackets, and wide trousers reaching below the knee, and called hozen. Hence the land was called Hozzenland. The dress of the women was also very peculiar, and of many bright colours. These old costumes are now rarely seen. _Page_ 17.--"The silvery lake," a romantic small lake, half an hour N.W. from Säkkingen. It lies in a hollow on the hills, surrounded by rocks and splendid fir-woods. The lake, which is known by the name of Berg See (mountain lake), is now also called Scheffel See. It is a favourite spot for excursions from far and near, and abounds in fish. _Page_ 19.--The Feldberg, the highest point of the Schwarzwald. _Page_ 20.--St. Blasien, formerly a very ancient monastery of Benedictine monks, called thus after St. Blasius, Bishop of Sebaste, whose relics were brought here by one of the early abbots. _Page_ 21.--"Then appeared as Death and Devil." This is the subject of one of Albrecht Dürer's most celebrated engravings, called Ritter, Tod, and Teufel (the Knight, Death, and the Devil), where the knight rides quietly and unmoved through a gloomy mountain glen, smiling at Death, who holds up an hourglass before him, and taking no notice at all of the droll Devil, who tries to grasp him from behind. The knight is evidently an embodiment of the freer spirit which began to reign then in Germany. The engraving is of the year 1513. _Page_ 26.--"Far off on the island glisten." The town of Säkkingen with its minster. _Page_ 30.--Rheinfeld, or rather Rheinfelden, a town on the left bank of the Rhine, about halfway between Säkkingen and Basel, where, during the Thirty Years' War, in the year 1638 several actions took place. _Page_ 32.--Wehr, a village about six miles from Säkkingen, on the road to Schopfheim, in the neighbourhood of a stalactite cave (Hasler Hoehle) mentioned in the Tenth Part. _Page_ 38.--Cujacius (Jacques de Cujas), a very distinguished jurist and professor of law in the university of Bourges (d. 1590). His only daughter, Susanna, became known by her profligate life. But the stories told of her by Catherinot cannot have happened during her father's lifetime, as he died when she was only three years old. _Page_ 43--Palsgrave Frederic married the Princess Elizabeth, daughter of James the First of England, in 1613. He was afterwards made king of Bohemia by the Protestant princes of Germany, and moved to Prague in 1619. In the year following his army was routed near Prague by the forces of the Catholic League, and he had to fly with his family. _Page_ 46.--"Of a young and handsome carpenter." The pastor refers here to a popular German song, still often sung by students: War einst ein jung, jung Zimmergesell, Der hatte zu bauen ein Schloss, etc. It is the story of a young carpenter who built a castle for a Margrave. During the absence of the latter the Margravine falls in love with the carpenter. The lovers are afterwards surprised by the Margrave, who has a gallows built on which the carpenter is hung. _Page_ 49.--Clovis (465-511), king of the Franks, was married, while he was still a heathen, to Clotilde, a Christian princess of Burgundy. During the battle at Tolbiac (Zülpich), near Cologne, when sorely pressed by the enemy, the Allemanni, he vowed to become a Christian, if he should gain the victory. After routing and subjugating the Allemanni, the king and many thousands of his people were baptised by the Bishop of Rheims, on the 23rd of December of the same year (496). _Page_ 50.--"Augusta Rauracorum," Colonia Raurica, afterwards called Augusta Rauracorum, a Roman colony founded in the year 44 B.C., by L. Munatius Plancus. On the site of the Roman town are now two villages, Basel-Augst and Kaiser-Augst, the latter a station on the railroad from Basel to Zurich. Near Basel-Augst the remains of a Roman amphitheatre and of a temple can still be seen. _Page_ 56.--Count Ursus of Glarus had been converted to Christianity by St. Fridolinus, and, with the consent of his brother Landolph, donated, a short time before his death, all his estates to the new cloister at Säkkingen. When Landolph, after the death of his brother refused to acknowledge his will, Fridolinus was obliged to go to law in order to make good his claim, and after a long litigation was at last notified by the government of Glarus that he would not be able to have his claims settled, unless he could bring the dead Count Ursus himself in court as a witness. Then, the legend says, Fridolinus went, on the day appointed for the court, to Glarus, raised Ursus from his grave, and walked with him to Rankweil (the seat of the court, ten hours from Glarus), where the count gave testimony in regard to his donation. Landolph then not only gave up his brother's estates, but added also a large portion of his own. After that Fridolinus walked back to Glarus with Count Ursus, and committed him again to his grave. The saint, on account of this miracle, is visually portrayed in company with the skeleton of Count Ursus. _Page_ 58.--Laufenburg, a town six miles above Säkkingen, and situated on the beautiful rapids of the Rhine. A tower of the old strong castle on the Swiss side is still standing. _Page_ 59.--Beuggen, a town on the Rhine below Säkkingen. The ancient building of the Teutonic order is still standing, and is used now by the Moravians as an institute for children. _Page_ 71.--The Wiese, a river coming from the Feldberg and flowing into the Rhine a little below Basel. The beautiful valley of the clear rapid river is now much visited, as there is a railroad as far as the town of Zell. This region has become classic through the poet Hebel, who wrote in the Allemannic idiom, still generally spoken in this whole region. At Hausen, the station before Zell, where he was born, a monument has been erected to him. There is also at Schopfheim, the station below Hausen, on a hill called Hebelshoehe, a bust of the poet The women of this region are remarkable for their large singular-looking caps, to which Scheffel alludes. _Page_ 76.--This gravel bank, called Field of Fridolinus, is still seen in the Rhine, opposite the castle Schoenau. _Page_ 80.--Hallau, a village not far from the railroad station Neuhausen, the stopping-place for visiting the falls of the Rhine. The red wine grown there is still very celebrated. --The Hohe-Randen, a mountain to the north of Schapfhausen. _Page_ 85.--Theuerdank, a German poem of the beginning of the 16th century, written by Melchior Pfinzing, the secretary of the Emperor Maximilian, who had planned and sketched the poem himself. _Page_ 101.--Grenzach, the first German village going from Basel, on the railroad to Säkkingen and Constanz. It is celebrated for the wine grown there. _Page_ 104.--The Frickthal, in the Swiss canton Aargau, nearly south of Säkkingen. _Page_ 105.--Schinznach, a village in the canton Aargau, much visited on account of its hot sulphur springs. In the neighbourhood are the ruins of the castle of Hapsburg, the cradle of the imperial house of Austria. _Page_ 109.--The mountain lake. See note to page 17. _Page_ 120.--May drink, or May wine, a favourite drink in Germany for the spring-time, made by steeping the leaves of woodroof in the light white wine of the country, and sweetening it with sugar. It is an old custom prevailing already in the 16th century, when the woodroof was added to the wine not only to cheer the heart with its fine aroma, but also for medicinal purposes, as acting on the liver. _Page_ 135.--Albbruck, a place above Laufenburg on the Rhine, at the mouth of the little river Alb, the valley of which is the most beautiful in the Schwarzwald. Formerly there were here quite important ironworks. _Page_ 151.--"E'en a common Flemish blacksmith." Quentin Massys (1466-1530), a celebrated Flemish painter, said to have been originally a blacksmith. While such, he fell in love, and in order to gain the maiden's consent as well as her father's (who was an artist) he forsook his trade, devoted himself to painting, and became a great master in his art. On the tombstone which his admirers placed on his grave a hundred years after his death, stands the Latin hexameter: Connubialis amor ex mulcibre fecit Apellem! _Page_ 152.--The Gnome's cave (Die Erdmannshöhle), a stalactite cave near the village of Hasel (whence the cave is called also Haselhöhle), between Wehr and Schopfheim. It can be reached from the former by a walk of half an hour, and is often visited with guides. The first cave, which one reaches through a low passage, is 13 feet high, the next contains a small lake. There is also a little river rushing along under steps, over which one walks. The cave contains, like all caves of this kind, most fantastic stalactite structures, which popular fancy has called the organ, the chancel, the skeleton, &c. Some columns when struck give out tones which sound as thirds. The most interesting part of the cave is called Die Fürstengruft (The Prince's Sepulchre), a large room, 16 feet high, with a stalactite structure resembling a large coffin. Popular superstition has from times immemorial made this cave the haunt of gnomes. _Page_ 169.--The ancient county of Hauenstein lies between two spurs of the Feldberg, the eastern one coming down to the town of Waldshut on the Rhine, the western one to Säkkingen. It is also called Hozzenland (see note to page 15). The early history of the country is somewhat obscure until the time of the Emperor Rudolph of Hapsburg, when it acknowledged the sovereignty of Austria. In the times of the fight for the German throne between Albrecht of Austria and Adolphe of Nassau, and between Frederick the Beautiful and Ludwig of Bavaria, when Suabia was without a duke and Germany without an emperor, the different villages of the country founded a union (Einung) for their protection. There is still in existence such a union document drawn up in the year 1433. The entire union was divided into eight smaller ones, each of which stood under an elected leader (Einungsmeister). All these eight leaders elected one of their body as speaker (Redmann), who held the leadership of the entire union. By this the Hauenstein peasants were greatly protected in their ancient rights; still the oppression of the Austrian governors (Waldvoegte) often incited revolutions, the most important of which occurred during the Peasants' War in 1525. Others lasted from 1589 to 1614, arising from an impost laid on wine. The poet introduces such a rising here in the course of his story. _Page_ 206.--The Fuggers are an Augsburg family, who, by their linen-trade and weaving, and afterwards by the purchase of mines in Austria, amassed an enormous fortune, and were raised to the rank of nobles by the Emperor Maximilian. The family attained their greatest splendour under the Emperor Charles the Fifth, who, at the time of the Diet at Augsburg, raised the two brothers then living to the rank of counts. _Page_ 235.--Katzenjammer, literally translated, cats' misery, the vulgar German expression for the indisposition after a drunken debauch. _Page_ 255.--Parcival, written by Wolfram von Eschenbach about the year 1200. Theuerdank, a German poem of the 16th century. See note to page 85. _Page_ 277.--"As at Strasburg on the bulwarks." The Swiss soldier refers here to a popular song: Zu Strasburg auf der Schanz, Da ging mein Trauern an, etc. The simple but touching story of a soldier who stands guard on the bulwarks of Strasburg and hears the Alpine horn blown on the other side of the Rhine. Seized with home sickness he swims across the Rhine, but is taken afterwards and shot as a deserter. _Page_ 278.--The villa of the Cardinal Borghese, Casa Baldi, near Olevano, in the Sabine country, is still in existence, and is now an inn much frequented by artists. It has become celebrated by Scheffel's humorous song, "Abschied von Olevano" (Farewell to Olevano), which he wrote on the spot when leaving there after a long sojourn. It is published in Scheffers collection of songs, "Gaudeamus." _Page_ 285.--Cardinal Pietro Ottoboni of Venice, who in 1689 became the successor of Innocent XI. as Alexander VIII. CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS, CRYSTAL PALACE PRESS. 
7321	----	THE NIBELUNGENLIED _Translated into Rhymed English Verse in the Metre of the Original_ By George Henry Needler _Associate Professor of German in University College, Toronto_ * * * * * PREFACE This translation of the Nibelungenlied is published with the simple purpose of placing one of the world's great epic poems within the reach of English readers. Translations are at best but poor substitutes for originals. A new translation of a poem implies also a criticism of those that have preceded it. My apology for presenting this new English version of the Nibelungenlied is that none of those hitherto made has reproduced the metrical form of the original. In the hope of making the outlines of the poem clearer for the modern reader, I have endeavored to supply in the Introduction a historical background by summing up the results of investigation into its origin and growth. The translation itself was begun many years ago, when I studied the original under Zarncke in Leipzig. G. H. N. University College, Toronto, September, 1904. * * * * * CONTENTS INTRODUCTION. I. THE NIBELUNGEN SAGA. 1. Origin of the Saga. 2. The Northern Form of the Saga. 3. The Saga as Preserved in the Nibelungenlied. 4. Mythical Element and Historical Element. II. THE NIBELUNGENLIED. 1. The Manuscripts. 2. Stages in the Evolution of the Poem. 3. Character of the Poem. 4. Later Forms of the Saga. 5. Poem and Saga in Modern Literature. 6. Modern German Translations. 7. English Translations. 8. Editions of the Nibelungenlied. THE NIBELUNGENLIED. FIRST ADVENTURE: Kriemhild's Dream. SECOND ADVENTURE: Siegfried. THIRD ADVENTURE: How Siegfried Came to Worms. FOURTH ADVENTURE: How Siegfried Fought with the Saxons. FIFTH ADVENTURE: How Siegfried first Saw Kriemhild. SIXTH ADVENTURE: How Gunther Fared to Isenland to Brunhild. SEVENTH ADVENTURE: How Gunther Won Brunhild. EIGHTH ADVENTURE: How Siegfried Fared to his Knights, the Nibelungen. NINTH ADVENTURE: How Siegfried was Sent to Worms. TENTH ADVENTURE: How Brunhild was Received at Worms. ELEVENTH ADVENTURE: How Siegfried Came Home with his Wife. TWELFTH ADVENTURE: How Gunther Bade Siegfried to the Feast. THIRTEENTH ADVENTURE: How They Fared to the Feast. FOURTEENTH ADVENTURE: How the Queens Berated Each Other. FIFTEENTH ADVENTURE: How Siegfried was Betrayed. SIXTEENTH ADVENTURE: How Siegfried was Slain. SEVENTEENTH ADVENTURE: How Kriemhild Mourned for Siegfried. EIGHTEENTH ADVENTURE: How Sigmund Fared Home Again. NINETEENTH ADVENTURE: How the Nibelungen Hoard was Brought to Worms. TWENTIETH ADVENTURE: How King Etzel Sent for Kriemhild. TWENTY-FIRST ADVENTURE: How Kriemhild Fared to the Huns. TWENTY-SECOND ADVENTURE: How Etzel Kept the Wedding-feast. TWENTY-THIRD ADVENTURE: How Kriemhild Thought to Avenge Her Wrong. TWENTY-FOURTH ADVENTURE: How Werbel and Schwemmel Brought the Message. TWENTY-FIFTH ADVENTURE: How the Knights all Fared to the Huns. TWENTY-SIXTH ADVENTURE: How Gelfrat was Slain by Dankwart. TWENTY-SEVENTH ADVENTURE: How They Came to Bechelaren. TWENTY-EIGHTH ADVENTURE: How the Burgundians Came to Etzel's Castle. TWENTY-NINTH ADVENTURE: How He Arose not before Her. THIRTIETH ADVENTURE: How They Kept Guard. THIRTY-FIRST ADVENTURE: How They Went to Mass. THIRTY-SECOND ADVENTURE: How Bloedel was Slain. THIRTY-THIRD ADVENTURE: How the Burgundians Fought with the Huns. THIRTY-FOURTH ADVENTURE: How They Cast Out the Dead. THIRTY-FIFTH ADVENTURE: How Iring was Slain. THIRTY-SIXTH ADVENTURE: How the Queen Bade Set Fire to the Hall. THIRTY-SEVENTH ADVENTURE: How the Margrave Ruediger was Slain. THIRTY-EIGHTH ADVENTURE: How All Sir Dietrich's Knights were Slain. THIRTY-NINTH ADVENTURE: How Gunther and Hagen and Kriemhild were Slain. * * * * * THE NIBELUNGENLIED I. THE NIBELUNGEN SAGA 1. Origin of the Saga All the Aryan peoples have had their heroic age, the achievements of which form the basis of later saga. For the Germans this was the period of the Migrations, as it is called, in round numbers the two hundred years from 400 to 600, at the close of which we find them settled in those regions which they have, generally speaking, occupied ever since. During these two centuries kaleidoscopic changes had been taking place in the position of the various Germanic tribes. Impelled partly by a native love of wandering, partly by the pressure of hostile peoples of other race, they moved with astonishing rapidity hither and thither over the face of Europe, generally in conflict with one another or buffeted by the Romans in the west and south, and by the Huns in the east. In this stern struggle for existence and search for a permanent place of settlement some of them even perished utterly; amid the changing fortunes of all of them deeds were performed that fixed themselves in the memory of the whole people, great victories or great disasters became the subject of story and song. We need only to recall such names as those of Ermanric and Theodoric to remind ourselves what an important part was played by the Germanic peoples of that Migration Period in the history of Europe. During it a national consciousness was engendered, and in it we have the faint beginnings of a national literature. Germanic saga rests almost entirely upon the events of these two centuries, the fifth and sixth. Although we get glimpses of the Germans during the four or five preceding centuries, none of the historic characters of those earlier times have been preserved in the national sagas. With these sagas based on history, however, have been mingled in most cases primeval Germanic myths, possessions of the people from prehistoric times. A most conspicuous example of this union of mythical and originally historical elements is the Nibelungen saga, out of which grew in course of time the great national epic, the Nibelungenlied. The Nibelungen saga is made up of two parts, on the one hand the mythical story of Siegfried and on the other the story, founded on historic fact, of the Burgundians. When and how the Siegfried myth arose it is impossible to say; its origin takes us back into the impenetrable mists of the unrecorded life of our Germanic forefathers, and its form was moulded by the popular poetic spirit. The other part of the saga is based upon the historic incident of the overthrow of the Burgundian kingdom by the Huns in the year 437. This annihilation of a whole tribe naturally impressed itself vividly upon the imagination of contemporaries. Then the fact of history soon began to pass over into the realm of legend, and, from causes which can no longer be determined, this tradition of the vanished Burgundians became united with the mythical story of Siegfried. This composite Siegfried-Burgundian saga then became a common possession of the Germanic peoples, was borne with many of them to lands far distant from the place of its origin, and was further moulded by each according to its peculiar genius and surroundings. In the Icelandic Eddas, the oldest of which we have as they were written down in the latter part of the ninth century, are preserved the earliest records of the form it had taken among the northern Germanic peoples. Our Nibelungenlied, which is the chief source of our knowledge of the story as it developed in Germany, dates from about the year 1200. These two versions, the Northern and the German, though originating in this common source, had diverged very widely in the centuries that elapsed between their beginning and the time when the manuscripts were written in which they are preserved. Each curtailed, re-arranged, or enlarged the incidents of the story in its own way. The character of the chief actors and the motives underlying what we may call the dramatic development assumed widely dissimilar forms. The German Nibelungenlied may be read and appreciated as one of the world's great epic poems without an acquaintance on the part of the reader with the Northern version of the saga. In order, however, to furnish the setting for a few episodes that would in that case remain either obscure or colorless, and with a view to placing the readers of this translation in a position to judge better the deeper significance of the epic as the eloquent narrative of a thousand years of the life of the people among whom it grew, the broad outlines of the saga in its Northern form will be given here. 2. The Northern Form of the Saga Starting at the middle of the fifth century from the territory about Worms on the Rhine where the Burgundians were overthrown, the saga soon spread from the Franks to the other Germanic peoples. We have evidence of its presence in northern Germany and Denmark. Allusions to it in the Anglo-Saxon poem, the _Wanderer_, of the seventh century and in the great Anglo-Saxon epic _Beowulf_ of a short time later, show us that it had early become part of the national saga stock in England. Among the people of Norway and Iceland it took root and grew with particular vigor. Here, farthest away from its original home and least exposed to outward influences, it preserved on the whole most fully its heathen Germanic character, especially in its mythical part. By a fortunate turn of events, too, the written record of it here is of considerably earlier date than that which we have from Germany. The Eddas, as the extensive collection of early Icelandic poems is called, are the fullest record of Germanic mythology and saga that has been handed down to us, and in them the saga of Siegfried and the Nibelungen looms up prominently. The earliest of these poems date from about the year 850, and the most important of them were probably written down within a couple of centuries of that time. They are thus in part some three centuries older than the German Nibelungenlied, and on the whole, too, they preserve more of the original outlines of the saga. By bringing together the various episodes of the saga from the Eddas and the Volsung saga, a prose account of the mythical race of the Volsungs, we arrive at the following narrative. On their wanderings through the world the three gods Odin, Honir, and Loki come to a waterfall where an otter is devouring a fish that it has caught. Loki kills the otter with a stone, and they take off its skin. In the evening they seek a lodging at the house of Hreidmar, to whom they show the skin. Hreidmar recognizes it as that of his son, whom Loki has killed when he had taken on the form of an otter. Assisted by his sons Fafnir and Regin, Hreidmar seizes the three gods, and spares their lives only on the promise that they will fill the skin, and also cover it outwardly, with gold. Loki is sent to procure the ransom. With a net borrowed from the sea-goddess Ran he catches at the waterfall the dwarf Andvari in form of a fish and compels him to supply the required gold. Andvari tries to keep back a ring, but this also Loki takes from him, whereupon the dwarf utters a curse upon the gold and whosoever may possess it. The ransom is now paid to Hreidmar; even the ring must, on Hreidmar's demand, be given in order to complete the covering of the otter's skin. Loki tells him of the curse connected with the ownership of the gold. When Hreidmar refuses Fafnir and Regin a share in the treasure, he is killed by Fafnir, who takes possession of the hoard to the exclusion of Regin. In the form of a dragon Fafnir dwells on Gnita Heath guarding the hoard, while Regin broods revenge. From Odin is descended King Volsung, who has a family of ten sons and one daughter. The eldest son is Sigmund, twin-born with his sister Signy. King Siggeir of Gautland sues for the hand of Signy, whom her father gives to Siggeir against her will. In the midst of King Volsung's hall stood a mighty oak-tree. As the wedding-feast is being held there enters a stranger, an old man with one eye, his hat drawn down over his face and bearing in his hand a sword. This sword he thrusts to the hilt into the tree, saying that it shall belong to him who can draw it out again; after which he disappears as he had come. All the guests try their strength in vain upon the sword, but Sigmund alone is able to draw it forth. He refuses to sell it to Siggeir for all his proffered gold. Siggeir plans vengeance. He invites Volsung and his sons to Gautland, and returns home thither with his bride Signy, who before going warns her father to be upon his guard. At the appointed time King Volsung and his sons go as invited to Gautland. In spite of Signy's repeated warning he will not flee from danger, and falls in combat with Siggeir; his ten sons are taken prisoners, and placed in stocks in the forest. For nine successive nights a she-wolf comes and devours each night one of them, till only Sigmund remains. By the aid of Signy he escapes. The she-wolf, it was said, was the mother of Siggeir. To Sigmund, who has hidden in a wood, Signy sends her eldest boy of ten years that Sigmund may test his courage and see if he is fit to be a helper in seeking revenge. Neither he, however, nor his younger brother stands the test. Signy sees that only a scion of the race of Volsung will suffice, and accordingly disguises herself and lives three days with Sigmund in the wood. From their union a son Sinfiotli is born, whom also, after ten years, she sends out to Sigmund. He stands every test of courage, and is trained by Sigmund, who thinks he is Siggeir's son. Bent on revenge, Sigmund repairs with Sinfiotli to Siggeir's castle. After Sinfiotli has slain the king's two sons, he and Sigmund are overpowered and condemned to be buried alive. With Sigmund's sword, however, which Signy has managed to place in their hands, they cut their way out, then set fire to Siggeir's hall. Signy comes forth and reveals to Sigmund that Sinfiotli is their own son; and then, saying that her work of revenge is complete and that she can live no longer, she returns into the burning hall and perishes with Siggeir and all his race. Sigmund now returns home and rules as a mighty king. He marries Borghild, who later kills Sinfiotli with a poisoned drink, and is cast away by Sigmund. He then marries Hjordis. Lyngvi, the son of King Hunding, was also a suitor and now invades Sigmund's land. The latter hews down many of his enemies, until an old man with one eye, in hat and dark cloak, interposes his spear, against which Sigmund's sword breaks in two. Sigmund falls severely wounded. In the night Hjordis seeks the scene of the combat and finds Sigmund still alive. He refuses to allow her to heal his wounds, saying that Odin no longer wills that he swing the sword. He tells Hjordis to preserve carefully the pieces of the broken sword; the son she bears in her womb shall yet swing the sword when welded anew, and win thereby a glorious name. At dawn Sigmund dies. Hjordis is borne off by Vikings and, after the birth of her son, she becomes the wife of the Danish prince Alf. The son of Hjordis was called Sigurd. He grew up a boy of wondrous strength and beauty, with eyes that sparkled brightly, and lived at the court of King Hjalprek, the father of Alf. Regin, the dwarfish brother of Fafnir, was his tutor. Regin welds together the pieces of the broken sword Gram, so sharp and strong that with it Sigurd cleaves Regin's anvil in twain. With men and ships that he has received from King Hjalprek Sigurd goes against the sons of Hunding, whom he slays, thereby avenging the death of his father. Regin has urged him to kill Fafnir and take possession of the hoard. On the Gnita Heath he digs a ditch from which, as the dragon Fafnir passes over it, he plunges the sword into his heart. The dying Fafnir warns him of the curse attached to the possession of the gold; also that Regin is to be guarded against. The latter bids him roast the heart of Fafnir. While doing so he burns his finger by dipping it in the blood to see if the heart is done, and to cool his finger puts it into his mouth. Suddenly he is able to understand the language of the birds in the wood. They warn him to beware of Regin, whom he straightway slays. The birds tell him further of the beautiful valkyrie Brynhild, who sleeps on the fire-encircled mountain awaiting her deliverer. Then Sigurd places Fafnir's hoard upon his steed Grani, takes with him also Fafnir's helm, and rides away to Frankenland. He sees a mountain encircled by a zone of fire, makes his way into it and beholds there, as he deems it, a man in full armor asleep. When he takes off the helmet he finds that it is a woman. With his sword he cuts loose the armor. The woman wakes and asks if it be the hero Sigurd who has awakened her. In joy that it is so, Brynhild relates to him how Odin had punished her by this magic sleep for disobedience, and how that she had yet obtained from him the promise that she should be wakened only by a hero who knew no fear. She now teaches Sigurd many wise runes, and tells him of harm to fear through love of her. In spite of all, however, Sigurd does not waver, and they swear an oath of mutual faithful love. Next Sigurd comes to King Gjuki at the Rhine, and joins in friendship with him and his sons Gunnar and Hogni. Queen Grimhild gives Sigurd a potion which causes him to forget Brynhild and be filled with love for her own daughter Gudrun, whom he marries. Gunnar now seeks Brynhild for wife, and Sigurd goes with him on his wooing-journey. They come to the castle encircled by fire, where Brynhild lives. She will be wooed only by him who will ride to her through the flames. Gunnar tries in vain to do this, even when mounted on Sigurd's steed Grani. Sigurd and Gunnar then exchange shapes and the former spurs Grani through the flames. He calls himself Gunnar the son of Gjuki, and finally Brynhild consents to become his wife. Three nights he shares her couch, but always his sharp sword lies between them. He takes the ring from her finger and places in its stead one from Fafnir's treasure. Then he exchanges form again with Gunnar, who is soon after wedded to Brynhild. Only now does Sigurd recollect the oath that he once swore to Brynhild himself. One day Brynhild and Gudrun are bathing in the Rhine. A quarrel arises between them when Brynhild takes precedence of Gudrun by going into the water above her in the stream, saying that her husband is a braver and mightier man than Gudrun's. Gudrun retorts by revealing the secret that it was Sigurd in Gunnar's form, and not Gunnar himself, who rode through the flame, and in proof thereof shows her the ring taken by Sigurd from Brynhild's finger. Pale as death, Brynhild goes quietly home: Gunnar must die, she says in wrath. Sigurd tries to pacify her, even offering to desert Gudrun. Now she will have neither him nor another, and when Gunnar appears she demands of him Sigurd's death. In spite of Hogni's protest Gunnar's stepbrother Gutthorm, who has not sworn blood-friendship with Sigurd, is got to do the deed. He is given the flesh of wolf and serpent to eat in order to make him savage. Twice Gutthorm goes to kill Sigurd, but cowers before the piercing glance of his eyes; at last he steals upon Sigurd asleep and thrusts his sword through him. The dying Sigurd hurls the sword after the fleeing murderer and cuts him in two. To Gudrun, who wakes from sleep by his side, he points to Brynhild as the instigator of the crime, and dies. Brynhild rejoices at the sound of Gudrun's wailing. Gudrun cannot find relief for her grief, the tears will not flow. Men and women seek to console her by tales of greater woes befallen them. But still Gudrun cannot weep as she sits by Sigurd's corpse. At last one of the women lifts the cloth from Sigurd's face and lays his head upon Gudrun's lap. Then Gudrun gazes on his blood-besmirched hair, his dimmed eyes, and breast pierced by the sword: she sinks down upon the couch and a flood of tears bursts at length from her eyes. Brynhild now tells Gunnar that Sigurd had really kept faith with him on the wooing journey; but she will live with him no longer and pierces herself with a sword, after foretelling to Gunnar his future fate and that of Gudrun. In accord with her own request she is burned on one funeral-pyre with Sigurd, the sword between them as once before. Atli,[1] king of the Huns, now seeks Gudrun for wife. She refuses, but Grimhild gives her a potion which causes her to forget Sigurd and the past, and then she becomes the wife of Atli. After Sigurd's death Gunnar had taken possession of the Niflungen hoard, and this Atli now covets. He treacherously invites Gunnar and the others to visit him, which they do in spite of Gudrun's warnings, first of all, however, sinking the hoard in the Rhine. On their arrival Atli demands of them the hoard, which, he says, belongs of right to Gudrun. On their refusal he attacks them. Hosts of fighters on both sides fall and in the end Gunnar and Hogni, the only two of their number remaining, are bound in fetters. Gunnar refuses Atli's command to reveal the hiding-place of the hoard, bidding them bring to him the heart of Hogni. They kill a servant and bring his heart to Gunnar; but Gunnar sees how it still quivers with fear, and knows it is not the heart of the fearless Hogni. Then the latter is really killed, and his heart is brought to Gunnar, who cries exultingly that now only the Rhine knows where the hoard lies hidden. In spite of Gudrun Atli orders that Gunnar be thrown into a den of serpents. With a harp communicated to him by Gudrun he pacifies them all but one, which stings him to the heart, and thus Gunnar dies. Gudrun is nominally reconciled with Atli, but in secret plans revenge for the death of her brothers. She kills Atli's two sons, gives him at a banquet their blood to drink and their hearts to eat. In the night she plunges a sword into his own heart, confesses herself to him as his murderer, and sets fire to the castle, in which Atli and all his remaining men are consumed. [1] That is, Attila; the Etzel of the Nibelungenlied. 3. The Saga as preserved in the Nibelungenlied The saga as we find it in the German Nibelungenlied differs very widely in form and substance from the Northern version which has just been outlined, though the two have still enough points of similarity to indicate clearly a common origin. Each bears the stamp of the poetic genius of the people among whom it grew. Of all the sagas of the Germanic peoples none holds so prominent a place as the Nibelungen saga, and it may safely be said that the epic literature of the world, though offering poems of more refined literary worth, has none that are at the same time such valuable records of the growth of the poetic genius of two kindred peoples through many centuries of their early civilization as the Edda poems of this saga and the Nibelungenlied. It is impossible here to undertake a comparison of the two and point out in detail their parallelism and their respective significance as monuments of civilization; suffice it to indicate briefly the chief points of difference in the two stories, and note particularly those parts of the Nibelungenlied that have, as it were, suffered atrophy, and that point to earlier stages of the saga in which, as in the Northern version, they played a more important role. First, as to the hoard. The Nibelungenlied knows nothing of its being taken by Loki from Andvari, of the latter's curse upon it, and how it came finally into the possession of Fafnir, the giant-dragon. Here it belongs, as we learn from Hagen's account (strophes 86-99), to Siegfried (Sigurd), who has slain the previous owners of it, Schilbung and Nibelung, and wrested it from its guardian the dwarf Alberich (Andvari). From this point onward its history runs nearly parallel in the two versions. After Siegfried's death it remains for a time with Kriemhild (Gudrun), is treacherously taken from her by Gunther (Gunnar) and Hagen (Hogni), and finally, before their journey to Etzel (Atli), sunk in the Rhine. The protracted narrative of Sigurd's ancestry and his descent from Odin has no counterpart in the Nibelungenlied. Here we learn merely that Siegfried is the son of Siegmund. His father plays an entirely different part; and his mother's name is not Hjordis, as in the Edda, but Siegelind. Of Siegfried's youth the Nibelungenlied knows very little. No mention is made of his tutelage to the dwarf smith Regin and preparation for the slaying of the dragon Fafnir. The account of him placed in the mouth of Hagen (strophes 86-501), how he won the hoard, the _tarnkappe_, and the sword Balmung, and slew the dragon, is evidently a faint echo of an earlier version of this episode, which sounds out of place in the more modern German form of the story. From the latter the mythical element has almost entirely vanished. It is worthy of note, moreover, that the very brief account of Siegfried's slaying of the dragon is given in the Nibelungenlied as separate from his acquisition of the hoard, and differs in detail from that of the Edda. Of Sigurd's steed Grani, his ride to Frankenland, and his awakening of Brynhild the Nibelungenlied has nothing to tell us. Through the account of Siegfried's assistance to Gunther in the latter's wooing of Brunhild (Adventures 6 and 7) shimmers faintly, however, the earlier tradition of the mythical Siegfried's awakening of the fire-encircled valkyrie. Only by our knowledge of a more original version can we explain, for example, Siegfried's previous acquaintance with Brunhild which the Nibelungenlied takes for granted but says nothing of. On this point of the relation between Sigurd and Brynhild it is difficult to form a clear account owing to the confusion and even contradictions that exist when the various Northern versions themselves are placed side by side. The name of the valkyrie whom Sigurd awakens from her magic sleep is not directly mentioned. Some of the accounts are based on the presupposition that she is one with the Brynhild whom Sigurd later wooes for Gunnar, while others either know nothing of the sleeping valkyrie or treat the two as separate personages. The situation in the Nibelungenlied is more satisfactorily explained by the theory that they were originally identical. But we see at once that the figure of Brunhild has here lost much of its original significance. It is her quarrel with Kriemhild (Gudrun) that leads to Siegfried's death, though the motives are not just the same in the two cases; and after the death of Siegfried she passes unaccountably from the scene. But it is in the concluding part of the story--the part which, as we shall see, has its basis in actual history--that the two accounts diverge most widely. So strange, indeed, has been the evolution of the saga that the central character of it, Kriemhild (Gudrun) holds a diametrically opposite relation to her husband Etzel (Atli) at the final catastrophe in the two versions. In the Nibelungenlied as in the Edda the widowed Kriemhild (Gudrun) marries King Etzel (Atli), her consent in the former resulting from a desire for revenge upon the murderers of Siegfried, in the latter from the drinking of a potion which takes away her memory of him; in the Nibelungenlied it is Kriemhild who treacherously lures Gunther and his men to their destruction unknown to Etzel, in the Edda the invitation comes from Atli, while Gudrun tries to warn them to stay at home; in the former Kriemhild is the author of the attack on the guests, in the latter Atli; in the former Kriemhild is the frenzied avenger of her former husband Siegfried's death upon her brother Gunther, in the latter Gudrun is the avenger of her brothers' death upon her husband Atli. 4. Mythical Element and Historical Element A sifting of the Nibelungen saga reveals a mythical element (the story of Siegfried) and a historical element (the story of the Burgundians and Etzel). How, when, and where these two elements were blended together must remain largely a matter of conjecture. This united central body received then from time to time accessions of other elements, some of them originally historical in character, some of them pure inventions of the poetic imagination. The Siegfried myth is the oldest portion of the Nibelungen saga, and had already passed through a long period of development before its union with the story of the Burgundian kings. Like so many others of its kind, it is part of the spiritual equipment of our Germanic ancestors at the dawn of their recorded history. It grew gradually with the people themselves and has its counterpart among other peoples. Such myths are a record of the impressions made upon the mind of man by the mighty manifestations of the world of nature in which he lives; their formation may be likened to the unconscious impressions of its surroundings on the mind of the child. And just as the grown man is unable to trace back the formation of his own individuality to its very beginnings in infancy, so is it impossible for the later nation in its advanced stage to peer back beyond the dawn of its history. It is in the gloom beyond the dawn that such myths as this of Siegfried have their origin. Though modern authorities differ greatly in their conjectures, it is generally agreed that the Siegfried story was in its original form a nature-myth. The young day slays the mist-dragon and awakens the sun-maiden that sleeps on the mountain; at evening he falls a prey to the powers of gloom that draw the sun down again beneath the earth. With this day-myth was probably combined the parallel myth of the changing seasons: the light returns in spring, slays the cloud-dragon, and frees the budding earth from the bonds of winter.[2] [2] For the Siegfried saga in general see Symons in Paul's Grundriss der germanischen Philologie, 2d ed., vol. III, pp. 651-671. In the course of time this nature-myth became transformed into a hero-saga; the liberating power of light was humanized into the person of the light-hero Siegfried. This stage of development had already been reached at the time of our earliest records, and the evidences point to the Rhine Franks, a West Germanic tribe settled in the fifth century in the country about Cologne, as the people among whom the transformation from nature-myth to hero-saga took place, for it is among them that the saga in its earliest form is localized. By the Rhine Siegfried is born, there he wins the Nibelungen hoard, and in Frankenland he finds the sleeping valkyrie. By the Rhine, too, he enters into service with the Nibelungen kings and weds their sister. The Franks had as neighbors up-stream in the first half of the fifth century the Burgundians, an East Germanic tribe. These Burgundians, who were closely allied to the Goths, had originally dwelt in the Baltic region between the Vistula and the Oder, whence they had made their way south westward across Germany and settled in the year 413 in _Germania prima_ on the west bank of the Rhine about Worms. Here a tragic fate was soon to overtake them. In the year 435 they had already suffered a reverse in a conflict with the Romans under Aetius, and two years later, in 437, they were practically annihilated by the Huns. Twenty thousand of them, we are told, fell in battle, the remainder were scattered southward. Beyond the brief record by a contemporary, Prosper, we know but little of this event. It has been conjectured that the Huns were on this occasion acting as auxiliaries of Aetius. At any rate it is fairly certain that Attila was not personally on the scene. We can easily imagine what a profound impression this extinction of the Burgundians would produce upon the minds of their neighbors the Rhine Franks. Fact, too, would soon become mingled with fiction. This new feat was ascribed to Attila himself, already too well known as the scourge of Europe and the subduer of so many German tribes. A very few years later, however, fate was to subdue the mighty conqueror himself. With the great battle of Chalons in 451 the tide turned against him, and two years afterwards he died a mysterious death. The historian Jordanes of the sixth century relates that on the morning after Attila's wedding with a German princess named Ildico (Hildiko) he was found lying in bed in a pool of blood, having died of a hemorrhage. The mysteriousness of Attila's ending inspired his contemporaries with awe, and the popular fancy was not slow to clothe this event also in a dress of fiction. The attendant circumstances peculiarly favored such a process. Historians soon recorded the belief that Attila had perished at the hands of his wife, and it was only a step further for the imagination to find the motive for the deed in the desire of Hildiko to avenge the death of her German kinsmen who had perished through Attila. The saga of Attila's death is before long connected with the growing Burgundian saga, Hildiko becomes the sister of the Burgundian kings Gundahari, Godomar, and Gislahari, and her deed is vengeance taken upon Attila for his destruction of her brothers. As is seen at once from the outline I have already given (Chapter 2.) of the saga as we find it in the Edda, this is the stage of development it had reached when it began to find its way northward from the Rhine country to Norway and Iceland. It is unnecessary here to record the speculations--for beyond speculations we cannot go--as to how the union of this historical saga of the Burgundians and Attila with the Siegfried saga took place. In the course of time, and naturally with greatest probability among the Rhine Franks who followed the Burgundians as occupants of _Germania prima_, the two were brought together, and the three Burgundian kings and their sister were identified with the three Nibelungen kings and their sister of the already localized Siegfried saga. It is also beyond the scope of this introduction to follow the course of the saga northward or to note its further evolution during its wanderings and in its new home until it was finally recorded in poetic form in the Edda. We have now to consider briefly the transformation it passed through in Germany between this date (about 500) and the time (about 1200) when it emerges in written record as the Nibelungenlied. An account has already been given (Chapter 3.) of the chief features in which the Nibelungenlied differs from the Northern form. As we saw there, the mythical element of the Siegfried saga has almost entirely evaporated and the historical saga of the Burgundian kings and Attila has undergone a complete transformation. That the originally mythical and heathen Siegfried saga should dwindle away with the progress of civilization and under the influence of Christianity was but natural. The character of the valkyrie Brynhild who avenges upon Sigurd his infidelity to her, yet voluntarily unites herself with him in death, as heathen custom demanded, is no longer intelligible. She recedes into the background, and after Siegfried's death, though she is still living, she plays no further part. The Nibelungenlied found its final form on Upper German, doubtless Austrian, territory. Here alone was it possible that that greatest of all transformations could take place, namely, in the character of Attila. The Franks of the Rhine knew him only as the awe-inspiring conqueror who had annihilated their neighbors the Burgundians. In Austrian lands it was quite otherwise. Many Germanic tribes, particularly the East Goths, had fought under the banner of Attila, and in the tradition handed down from them he lived as the embodiment of wisdom and generosity. Here it was impossible that epic story should picture him as slaying the Burgundian kings through a covetous desire for their gold. The annihilation of the Burgundians is thus left without a motive. To supply this, Kriemhild's character is placed upon an entirely different basis. Instead of avenging upon Attila the death of her brothers the Burgundian kings, Kriemhild now avenges upon her brothers the slaying of her first husband Siegfried. This fundamental change in the character of Kriemhild has a deep ethical reason. To the ancient heathen Germans the tie of blood-relationship was stronger than that of wedlock, and thus in the original version of the story Attila's wife avenges upon him the death of her _brothers_; to the Christianized Germans of later times the marriage bond was the stronger, and accordingly from the altered motive Kriemhild avenges upon her brothers the slaying of her _husband_. In accordance, too, with this ethical transformation the scene of the catastrophe is transferred from Worms to Attila's court. Kriemhild now looms up as the central figure of the second half of the drama, while Etzel remains to the last ignorant of her designs for revenge. This transformation of the fundamental parts of the saga was accompanied by another process, namely, the addition of new characters. Some of these are the product of the poetic faculty of the people or individuals who preserved and remoulded the story in the course of centuries, others are based upon history. To the former class belong the Margrave Ruediger, the ideal of gentle chivalry, and Volker the Fiddler-knight, doubtless a creation of the _spielleute_. To the second class belong Dietrich of Bern, in whom we see the mighty East Gothic king, Theodoric of Verona; also Bishop Pilgrim of Passau, a very late importation, besides several others in whom are perpetuated in more or less faint outline actual persons of history. This introduction of fresh characters from time to time as the saga grew has led to some strange anachronisms, which however are a disturbing element only to us readers of a modern day, who with sacrilegious hand lift the veil through which they were seen in a uniform haze of romance by the eye of the knights and ladies of seven centuries ago. _They_ neither knew nor cared to know, for instance, that Attila was dead before Theodoric was born, and that Bishop Pilgrim flourished at Passau the trifling space of five hundred years later still.[3] [3] Attila lived from about 406 to 453; Theodoric, 475 to 526. Pilgrim was Bishop of Passau, 971 to 991. II. THE NIBELUNGENLIED 1. The Manuscripts Among the German epic poems of the Middle Ages the Nibelungenlied [4] enjoyed an exceptional popularity, as is evident from the large number of manuscripts--some thirty, either complete or fragmentary--that have been preserved from the centuries immediately following its appearance. Three are of prime importance as texts, namely, those preserved now in Munich, St. Gall, and Donaueschingen, and cited as A, B, and C respectively. Since the time when Lachmann, about a century ago, made the first scientific study of the poem, a whole flood of writings has been poured forth discussing the relative merits of these texts. Each in turn has had its claims advocated with warmth and even acrimony. None of these three principal manuscripts, however, offers the poem in its earliest form; they all point to a still earlier version. It is now generally admitted that the St. Gall manuscript (B), according to which the present translation has been made, contains the best and most nearly original text. [4] The closing strophe of MS. C calls the poem der _Nibelunge liet_, or Nibelungenlied, i.e. the lay of the Nibelungen, and this is the title by which it is commonly known. MSS. A and B have in the corresponding strophe _der Nibelunge not_, i.e. the 'need', 'distress', 'downfall' of the Nibelungen. In the title of the poem 'Nibelungen' is simply equivalent to 'Burgundians': the poem relates the downfall of the Burgundian kings and their people. Originally the Nibelungen were, as their name, which is connected with _nebel_, 'mist', 'gloom', signifies, the powers of darkness to whom the light-hero Siegfried fell a prey. After Siegfried obtains possession of the treasure the name Nibelungen is still applied to Alberich and the dwarfs who guard it and who are now Siegfried's vassals. Then after Siegfried's death the name is given to the Burgundians. It is a mistake to suppose that the name was applied in each case to those who became possessors of the hoard, for Siegfried himself is never so designated. 2. Stages in the Evolution of the Poem Hand in hand with the discussion of the relative authenticity of the manuscripts went the consideration of another more important literary question,--the evolution of the poem itself. Even if we knew nothing of the history of the Nibelungen saga as revealed in the Edda and through other literary and historic sources, a reading of the poem would give us unmistakable hints that it is not, in its present form, a perfect literary unit. We detect inconsistencies in matter and inequalities of style that prove it to be a remodelling of material already existing in some earlier form. What, then, has been the history of its evolution? How did this primeval Siegfried myth, this historical saga of the Burgundians and Attila, first come to be part of the poetic stock of the German people? What was its earliest poetic form, and what series of transformations did it pass through during seven centuries of growth? These and many kindred questions present themselves, and the search for answers to them takes us through many winding labyrinths of the nation's contemporary history. Few products of German literature have so exercised and tantalized critics as the Nibelungenlied. In this connection we have to remind ourselves that comparatively little of what must have been the large body of native poetry in Germany previous to the eleventh century has come down to us. Barely enough has been preserved to show the path of the nation's literary progress. Some of the important monuments have been saved by chance, while others of equal or perhaps greater value have been irrecoverably lost. The interest in the various incidents of the Nibelungen story was sufficient to keep it alive among the people and hand it down orally through many generations. If we could observe it as it passed from age to age we should doubtless see it undergoing continuous change according to the time and the class of the people that were the preservers of the native literature in its many ups and downs. Lachmann in the year 1816 was the first to bring scientific criticism to bear on the question of the Nibelungenlied and its origin. Applying to it the same methods as had recently been used by Wolf in his criticism of the Homeric poems, he thought he was able to discover as the basis of the complete epic a cycle of twenty separate _lieder_, ballads or shorter episodic poems, on the strength of which belief he went so far as to publish an edition of the poem in which he made the division into the twenty separate lays and eliminated those strophes (more than one third of the whole number) that he deemed not genuine. It is now generally admitted, however, that the pioneer of Nibelungen investigation fell here into over-positive refinements of literary criticism. Separate shorter poems there doubtless existed narrating separate episodes of the story, but these are no longer to be arrived at by a process of critical disintegration and pruning of the epic as we have it. An examination of the twenty _lieder_ according to Lachmann's division convinces us that they are not separate units in the sense he conceived them to be. Though these twenty _lieder_ may be based upon a number of earlier episodic poems, yet the latter already constituted a connected series. They were already like so many scenes of a gradually developing drama. Events were foreshadowed in one that were only fulfilled in another, and the incidents of later ones are often only intelligible on the supposition of an acquaintance with motives that originated in preceding ones. It is in this sense only, not according to Lachmann's overwrought theory, that we are justified in speaking of a _liedercyclus_, or cycle of separate episodic poems, as the stage of the epic antecedent to the complete form in which we now have it. But beyond this cycle we cannot trace it back. How the mythical saga of Siegfried and the Nibelungen, and the story of the Burgundians and Attila, were first sung in alliterative lays in the Migration Period, how as heathen song they were pushed aside or slowly influenced by the spirit of Christianity, how with changing time they changed also their outward poetical garb from alliteration to rhyme and altered verse-form, till at last in the twelfth century they have become the cycle of poems from which the great epic of the Nibelungenlied could be constructed--of all this we may form a faint picture from the development of the literature in general, but direct written record of it is almost completely wanting. 3. Character of the Poem The twelfth and thirteenth centuries witnessed far-reaching changes in the social and intellectual life of the German lands, the leading feature of which is the high development of all that is included under the name of chivalry. It is marked, too, by a revival of the native literature such as had not been known before, a revival which is due almost entirely to its cultivation by the nobility. From emperor down to the simple knight they were patrons of poetry and, what is most striking, nearly all the poets themselves belong to the knightly class. The drama has not yet begun, but in the field of epic and lyric there appear about the year 1200 poets who are among the greatest that German literature even down to the present time has to show. The epic poetry of that period, though written almost entirely by the knights, is of two distinct kinds according to its subject: on the one hand what is called the Court Epic, on the other hand the National, or Popular, Epic. The Court Epic follows for the most part French models and deals chiefly with the life of chivalry, whose ideals were embodied in king Arthur and his circle of knights; the National Epic drew its subjects from the national German saga, its two great products being the Nibelungenlied and the poem of Gudrun. Court Epic and National Epic are further distinct in form, the Court Epic being written in the rhymed couplets popularized in modern times in English by Sir Walter Scott, while the National Epic is composed in four-lined strophes. Though we know the name and more or less of the life of the authors of the many court epics of the period, the name of the poet who gave the Nibelungenlied its final form has not been recorded. As we have seen, the poem is at bottom of a truly popular, national character, having its beginnings in mythology and early national history. For centuries the subject had been national property and connected with the name of no one individual. We have it now in the form in which it was remodelled to suit the taste of the court and the nobility, and like the court epic to be read aloud in castle hall. That it is written in four-lined strophes[5] and not in the usual rhymed couplets of the court epics is doubtless due to the fact that the former verse-form had already been used in the earlier ballads upon which it is based, and was simply taken over by the final moulder of the poem. This latter was probably a member of the nobility like the great majority of the epic poets of the time; he must at least have been well acquainted with the manners, tastes, sentiments, and general life of the nobility. Through him the poem was brought outwardly more into line with the literary ideals of the court circles. This shows itself chiefly in a negative way, namely, in the almost complete avoidance of the coarse language and farcical situations so common with the popular poet, the _spielmann_. Beyond this no violence is done to the simple form of the original. The style is still inornate and direct, facts still speak rather than words, and there is nothing approaching the refined psychological dissection of characters and motives such as we find in Wolfram von Eschenbach and the other court writers. [5] For description of the Nibelungen strophe see below, Chapter 7. When we look to the inner substance we see that the ground ideals are still those of the original Germanic heroic age. The chief characters are still those of the first stages of the story--Siegfried, Brunhild, Gunther, Kriemhild, Hagen. The fundamental theme is the ancient theme of _triuwe_, unswerving personal loyalty and devotion, which manifests itself above all in the characters of Kriemhild and Hagen. Kriemhild's husband Siegfried is treacherously slain: her sorrow and revenge are the motives of the drama. Hagen's mistress has, though with no evil intent on Siegfried's part, received an insult to her honor: to avenge that insult is Hagen's absorbing duty, which he fulfils with an utter disregard of consequences. Over this their fundamental character the various persons of the story have received a gloss of outward conduct in keeping with the close of the twelfth century. The poet is at pains to picture them as models of courtly bearing, excelling in _hofscheit_, _zuht_, _tugent_. Great attention is paid to dress, and the preparation of fitting apparel for court festivities is described and re-described with wearisome prolixity. A cardinal virtue is _milte_, liberality in the bestowal of gifts. Courtesy toward women is observed with the careful formality of the age of the minnesingers. It was above all Siegfried, the light-hero of the original myth, whose character lent itself to an idealization of knighthood. Ruediger holds a like place in the latter part of the poem. In the evident pleasure with which the minstrel-knight Volker of the sword-fiddlebow is depicted, as well doubtless as in occasional gleams of broader humor, the hand of the minstrels who wrought on the story in its earlier ballad stages may be seen. And the whole poem, in keeping with its form in an age strongly under church influence, has been tinged with the ideals of Christianity. Not only does the ordinary conversation of all the characters, including even the heathen Etzel, contain a great number of formal imprecations of God, but Christian institutions and Christian ethics come frequently into play. Mass is sung in the minster, baptism, marriage, burial are celebrated in Christian fashion, the devil is mentioned according to the Christian conception, we hear of priest, chaplain, and bishop, Christians are contrasted with heathen, and Kriemhild, in marrying Etzel, has a hope of turning him to Christianity. In Hagen's attempt to drown the chaplain whom the Burgundians have with them as they set out for the land of the Huns we have perhaps an expression of the conflict between the heathen and the Christian elements, possibly also a reflection of the traditional animosity of the _spielmann_ to his clerical rival. The Nibelungenlied and the Iliad of Homer have often been compared, but after all to no great purpose. The two epics are alike in having their roots deep in national origins, but beyond this we have contrasts rather than resemblances. The Iliad is a more varied and complete picture of the whole Greek world than the Nibelungenlied is of the German, its religious atmosphere has not been disturbed in the same way as that of the saga of early Germanic times projected several centuries into a later Christian age, and it possesses in every way a greater unity of sentiment. In the varied beauty of its language, its wealth of imagery, its depth of feeling and copiousness of incident the Iliad is superior to the Nibelungenlied with its language of simple directness, its few lyrical passages, its expression of feeling by deeds rather than by words. Homer, too, is in general buoyant, the Nibelungenlied is sombre and stern. And in one last respect the two epics differ most of all: the Iliad is essentially narrative and descriptive, a series of episodes; the Nibelungenlied is essentially dramatic, scene following scene of dramatic necessity and pointing steadily to a final and inevitable catastrophe. 4. Later Forms of the Saga In the Northern Edda and in the German Nibelungenlied the Nibelungen saga found its fullest and most poetic expression. But these were not to be the only literary records of it. Both in Scandinavian lands and in Germany various other monuments, scattered over the intervening centuries, bear witness to the fact that it lived on in more or less divergent forms. The Danish historian Saxo Grammaticus of the latter part of the twelfth century has a reference to the story of Kriemhild's treachery toward her brothers. About the year 1250 an extensive prose narrative, known as the Thidrekssaga, was written by a Norwegian from oral accounts given him by men from Bremen and Munster. This narrative is interesting as showing the form the saga had taken by that date on Low German territory, and holds an important place in the history of the development of the saga. It has much more to say of the early history of Siegfried than we find in the Nibelungenlied, and yet in the main outlines of the story of Kriemhild's revenge it corresponds with the German epic and not with the Northern Edda. A chronicle of the island of Hven in the Sound, dating in its original form from the sixteenth century, as well as Danish ballads on the same island that have lived on into modern times, tell of Sivard (Siegfried), Brynhild, and also of Grimild's (Kriemhild's) revenge. In Norway and Sweden traces of the saga have recently been discovered; while songs that are sung on the Faroe Islands, as an accompaniment to the dance on festive occasions, have been recorded, containing over six hundred strophes in which is related in more or less distorted form the Nibelungen story. In Germany the two poems known as the _Klage_ and _Hurnen Seyfrid_ are the most noteworthy additional records of the Nibelungen saga, as offering in part at least independent material. The _Klage_ is a poem of over four thousand lines in rhymed couplets, about half of it being an account of the mourning of Etzel, Dietrich, and Hildebrand as they seek out the slain and prepare them for burial, the other half telling of the bringing of the news to Bechlaren, Passau, and Worms. The poem was written evidently very soon after the Nibelungenlied, the substance of which was familiar to the author, though he also draws in part from other sources. Compared with the Nibelungenlied it possesses but little poetic merit and is written with distinctly Christian sentiment which is out of harmony with the ground-tone of the Germanic tragedy. The _Hurnen Seyfrid_ is a poem of 179 four-lined strophes which is preserved only in a print of the sixteenth century, but at least a portion of whose substance reaches back in its original form to a period preceding the composition of the Nibelungenlied. It is evidently, as we have it, formed by the union of two earlier separate poems, which are indeed to a certain extent contradictory of each other. The first tells of the boyhood of Seyfrid (Siegfried) and his apprenticeship to the smith; how he slew many dragons, burned them, and smeared over his body with the resulting fluid horny substance (hence his name _hurnen_), which made him invulnerable; how he further found the hoard of the dwarf Nybling, and by service to King Gybich won the latter's daughter for his wife. The second part tells how King Gybich reigned at Worms. He has three sons, Gunther, Hagen, Gyrnot, and one daughter, Kriemhild. The latter is borne off by a dragon, but finally rescued by Seyfrid, to whom she is given in marriage. The three brothers are jealous of the might and fame of Seyfrid, and after eight years Hagen slays him beside a cool spring in the Ottenwald. The poem _Biterolf_, written soon after the Nibelungenlied, and _Rosengarten_ of perhaps a half-century later, represent Dietrich in conflict with Siegfried at Worms. The famous shoemaker-poet Hans Sachs of Nuremberg in 1557 constructed a tragedy, _Der hornen Sewfriedt_, on the story of Siegfried as he knew it from the _Hurnen Seyfrid_ and the _Rosengarten_. A prose version of the _Hurnen Seyfrid_, with free additions and alterations, is preserved in the _Volksbuch vom gehornten Sigfrid_, the oldest print of which dates from the year 1726. Of the vast number of Fairy Tales, those most genuine creations of the poetic imagination of the people, in which live on, often to be sure in scarcely recognizable form, many of the myths and sagas of the nation's infancy, there are several that may with justice be taken as relics of the Siegfried myth, for instance, The Two Brothers, The Young Giant, The Earth-Manikin, The King of the Golden Mount, The Raven, The Skilled Huntsman, and perhaps also the Golden Bird and The Water of Life;[6] though it would seem from recent investigations that Thorn-Rose or the Sleeping Beauty, is no longer to be looked upon as the counterpart of the sleeping Brynhild. Finally, it is probable that several names in Germany and in Northern countries preserve localized memories of the saga. [6] These will be found in Grimm's Marchen as numbers 60, 90-93, 111, 57, and 97. 5. Poem and Saga in Modern Literature Fundamentally different from the foregoing natural outgrowths of the Nibelungen saga are the modern dramas and poems founded upon it since the time of the romanticists at the beginning of the nineteenth century.[7] Nearly all of these have already vanished as so much chaff from the winnowing-mill of time: only two, perhaps, are now considered seriously, namely, Hebbel's _Die Nibelungen_ and Richard Wagner's _Ring des Nibelungen_. Hebbel in his grandly conceived drama in three parts follows closely the story as we have it in our epic poem the Nibelungenlied, and the skill with which he makes use of its tragic elements shows his dramatic genius at its best. But not even the genius of Hebbel could make these forms of myth and saga live again for us upon a modern stage, and the failure of this work with its wealth of poetic beauty and many scenes of highest dramatic effectiveness to maintain its place as an acting drama is sufficient evidence that the yawning gap that separates the sentiment of the modern world from that of the early centuries in which these sagas grew is not to be bridged over by the drama, however easy and indeed delightful it may be for us to allow ourselves to be transported thither to that romantic land upon the wings of epic story. Wagner in his music-drama in three parts and prelude has followed in the main the saga in its Northern form [8] up to the death of Siegfried and Brunhild, but to the entire exclusion of the latter part of the story in which Atli (Etzel) figures; his work has accordingly hardly any connection with the Nibelungenlied here offered in translation. Only the pious loyalty of national sentiment can assign a high place in dramatic literature to Wagner's work with its intended imitation of the alliterative form of verse; while his philosophizing gods and goddesses are also but decadent modern representatives of their rugged heathen originals. [7] The curious will find a list of these in the introduction to Piper's edition, cited below, Chapter 7. [8] See above, Chapter 2. 6. Modern German Translations The language of the Nibelungenlied presents about the same difficulty to the German reader of to-day as that of our English Chaucer to us. Many translations into modern German have accordingly been made to render it accessible to the average reader without special study. In the year 1767 Bodmer in Zurich published a translation into hexameters of a portion of it, and since the investigations of Lachmann raised it to the position of a national epic of first magnitude many more have appeared, both in prose and verse. The best in prose is that by Scherr, of the year 1860. Of the metrical translations that by Simrock, which in its later editions follows pretty closely the text of MS. C, is deservedly the most popular and has passed through a great number of editions. Bartsch has also made a translation based on his edition of MS. B. These modern versions by Simrock and Bartsch reproduce best the metrical quality of the original strophe. Easily obtainable recent translations are those by Junghans (in Reclam's Universalbibliothek) of text C, and by Hahn (Collection Spemann) of text A. 7. English Translations[9] [9] For a complete list of these, also of magazine articles, etc., relating to the Nibelungenlied, see F. E. Sandbach, The _Nibelungenlied and Gudrun in England and America_, London, 1903. Early in last century interest in the Nibelungenlied began to manifest itself in England. A synopsis of it, with metrical translation of several strophes, appeared in the year 1814 in Weber, Jamieson and Scott's "Illustrations of Northern Antiquities" (London and Edinburgh), in which, according to Lockhart, Sir Walter Scott's hand may perhaps be seen. Carlyle, laboring as a pioneer to spread a knowledge of German literature in England, contributed to the Westminster Review in 1831 his well-known essay on the Nibelungenlied which, though containing an additional mass of rather ill-arranged matter and now antiquated in many particulars, is still well worth reading for its enthusiastic account of the epic itself in the genuine style of the author. Carlyle here reproduces in metrical form a few strophes. He has said elsewhere that one of his ambitions was to make a complete English version of the poem. Since then an endless number of accounts of it, chiefly worthless, has appeared in magazines and elsewhere. The first attempt at a complete metrical translation was made in 1848 by Jonathan Birch, who however only reproduces Lachmann's twenty _lieder_, with some fifty-one strophes added on his own account. His version of the first strophe runs thus: Legends of by-gone times reveal wonders and prodigies, Of heroes worthy endless fame,--of matchless braveries,-- Of jubilees and festal sports,--of tears and sorrows great,-- And knights who daring combats fought:--the like I now relate. In 1850 appeared William Nansom Lettsom's translation of the whole poem according to Braunfels' edition, with the opening strophe turned as follows: In stories of our fathers high marvels we are told Of champions well approved in perils manifold. Of feasts and merry meetings, of weeping and of wail, And deeds of gallant daring I'll tell you in my tale. The next metrical rendering is that by A. G. Foster-Barham in the year 1887. His first strophe reads: Many a wondrous story have the tales of old, Of feats of knightly glory, and of the Heroes bold, Of the delights of feasting, of weeping and of wail, Of noble deeds of daring; you may list strange things in my tale. In the year 1898 follows still another, by Alice Horton (edited by E. Bell). This latest translation is based on Bartsch's text of MS. B, and is prefaced by Carlyle's essay. First strophe: To us, in olden legends, / is many a marvel told Of praise-deserving heroes, / of labours manifold, Of weeping and of wailing, / of joy and festival; Of bold knights' battling shall you / now hear a wondrous tale. Apart from the many faults of interpretation all of the metrical translations of the Nibelungenlied here enumerated are defective in one all-important respect: they do not reproduce the poem in its _metrical form_. Carlyle and other pioneers we may perhaps acquit of any intention of following the original closely in this regard. None of the translators of the complete poem, however, has retained in the English rendering what is after all the very essence of a poem,--its exact metrical quality. Birch has created an entirely different form of strophe in which all four lines are alike, each containing seven principal accents, with the caesura, following the fourth foot. Lettsom makes the first serious attempt to reproduce the original strophe. It is evident from the introduction to his translation (see p. xxvi) that he had made a careful study of its form, and he does in fact reproduce the first three lines exactly. Of the fourth line he says: "I have not thought it expedient to make a rule of thus lengthening the fourth lines of the stanzas, though I have lengthened them occasionally"(!). What moved him thus to deprive the stanza of its most striking feature--and one, moreover, that is easily preserved in English--he does not make clear. The versions of Foster-Barham and of Horton and Bell show the same disfigurement, the latter omitting the extra accent of the fourth line, as they say, "for the sake of euphony"(!). It is just this lengthened close of each strophe that gives the Nibelungenlied its peculiar metrical character and contributes not a little to the avoidance of monotony in a poem of over two thousand strophes. In theory the form of the fourth line as it stands in the original is no more foreign to the genius of the English language than to that of modern German, and few of the many Germans giving a modernized version of the epic have been bold enough to lay sacrilegious hands upon it to shorten it. A brief account of the Nibelungen strophe may not be out of place here, owing to the fact that its character has generally been misunderstood. The origin and evolution of the strophe have been the subject of much discussion, the results of which we need not pause to formulate here. As it appears in actual practice in our poem of about the year 1200, it was as follows: Each strophe consists of four long lines, the first line rhyming with the second, and the third with the fourth. The rhymes are masculine, that is, rhymes on the end syllable. Each line is divided by a clearly marked caesura into two halves; each half of the first three lines and the first half of the fourth line has three accented syllables, the second half of the fourth line has four accented syllables. The first half of each line ends in an unaccented syllabic--or, strictly speaking, in a syllable bearing a secondary accent; that is, each line has what is called a "ringing" caesura. The metrical character of the Nibelungen strophe is thus due to its fixed number of accented syllables. Of unaccented syllables the number may vary within certain limits. Ordinarily each accented syllable is preceded by an unaccented one; that is, the majority of feet are iambic. The unaccented syllable may, however, at times be wanting, or there may, on the other hand, be two or even three of them together. A characteristic of the second half of the last line is that there is very frequently no unaccented syllable between the second and the third accented ones. Among occasional variations of the normal strophe as here described may be mentioned the following: The end-rhyme is in a few instances feminine instead of masculine; while on the other hand the ending of the first half-lines is occasionally masculine instead of feminine, that is, the caesura is not "ringing." In a few scattered instances we find strophes that rhyme throughout in the caesura as well as at the end of lines;[10] occasionally the first and second lines, or still less frequently the third and fourth, alone have caesural rhyme.[11] Rhyming of the caesura may be regarded as accidental in most cases, but it is reproduced as exactly as possible in this translation. [10] Strophes 1, 17, 102, and possibly 841. [11] Strophes 18, 69, 103, 115, 129, 148, 177, 190, 198, 222, 231, 239, 293, 325, 345, 363, 485, 584, 703, 712, 859, 864, 894, 937, 1022, 1032, 1114, 1225, 1432, 1436, 1460, 1530, 1555, 1597, 1855, 1909, 1944, 1956, 2133, 2200, 2206, 2338. In the original the opening strophe, which is altogether more regular than the average and is, moreover, one of the few that have also complete caesural rhyme, is as follows: Uns ist in alten maeren / wunders vil geseit von heleden lobebaeren, / von grozer arebeit, von frouden, hochgeziten, / von weinen und von klagen, von kuener recken striten / muget ir nu wunder hoeren sagen. Here the only place where the unaccented syllable is lacking before the accented is before _wunders_ at the beginning of the second half of the first line. A strophe showing more typical irregularities is, for instance, the twenty-second: In sinen besten ziten, / bi sinen jungen tagen, man mohte michel wunder / von Sivride sagen, waz eren an im wuchse / und wie scoene was sin lip. sit heten in ze minne / diu vil waetlichen wip. Here the rhyme of the first and second lines is still masculine, _tagen_ and _sagen_ being pronounced _tagn_ and _sagn_. The unaccented syllable is lacking, e.g., before the second accent of the second half of line two, also before the first and the third accent of the second half of line four. There are two unaccented syllables at the beginning (_Auftakt_) of the second half of line three. The absence of the unaccented syllable between the second and the third accent of the last half of the fourth line of a strophe, as here, is so frequent in the poem as to amount almost to a rule; it shows an utter misconception, or disregard, of its true character, nevertheless, to treat this last half-line as having only three accented syllables, as all translators hitherto have done. 8. Editions Of The Nibelungenlied MS. A. (Hohenems-Munich). Lachmann, _Der Nibelunge Not und die Klage_, 5th ed., Berlin, 1878. Several reprints of the text alone later. MS. B. (St. Gall). Bartsch, _Das Nibelungenlied_, 6th ed., Leipzig, 1886. (Vol. 3 of the series Deutsche Classiker des Mittelalters.) Piper, _Die Nibelungen_. (Vol. 6 of Kurschner's Deutsche National-Litteratur.) MS. C. (Donaueschingen). Zarncke, _Das Nibelungenlied_, 6th ed., Leipzig, 1887. * * * * * THE NIBELUNGENLIED * * * * * FIRST ADVENTURE Kriemhild's Dream 1 To us in olden story / are wonders many told Of heroes rich in glory, / of trials manifold: Of joy and festive greeting, / of weeping and of woe, Of keenest warriors meeting, / shall ye now many a wonder know. 2 There once grew up in Burgundy / a maid of noble birth, Nor might there be a fairer / than she in all the earth: Kriemhild hight the maiden, / and grew a dame full fair, Through whom high thanes a many / to lose their lives soon doomed were. 3 'Twould well become the highest / to love the winsome maid, Keen knights did long to win her, / and none but homage paid. Beauty without measure, / that in sooth had she, And virtues wherewith many / ladies else adorned might be. 4 Three noble lords did guard her, / great as well in might, Gunther and Gernot, / each one a worthy knight, And Giselher their brother, / a hero young and rare. The lady was their sister / and lived beneath the princes' care. 5 These lords were free in giving, / and born of high degree; Undaunted was the valor / of all the chosen three. It was the land of Burgundy / o'er which they did command, And mighty deeds of wonder / they wrought anon in Etzel's land. 6 At Worms amid their warriors / they dwelt, the Rhine beside, And in their lands did serve them / knights of mickle pride, Who till their days were ended / maintained them high in state. They later sadly perished / beneath two noble women's hate. 7 A high and royal lady, / Ute their mother hight, Their father's name was Dankrat, / a man of mickle might. To them his wealth bequeathed he / when that his life was done, For while he yet was youthful / had he in sooth great honor won. 8 In truth were these three rulers, / as I before did say, Great and high in power, / and homage true had they Eke of knights the boldest / and best that e'er were known, Keen men all and valiant, / as they in battle oft had shown. 9 There was of Tronje Hagen, / and of that princely line His brother valiant Dankwart; / and eke of Metz Ortwein; Then further the two margraves, / Gere and Eckewart; Of Alzei was Volker, / a doughty man of dauntless heart. 10 Rumold the High Steward, / a chosen man was he, Sindold and Hunold / they tended carefully Each his lofty office / in their three masters' state, And many a knight beside them / that I the tale may ne'er relate. 11 Dankwart he was Marshal; / his nephew, then, Ortwein Upon the monarch waited / when that he did dine; Sindold was Cup-bearer, / a stately thane was he, And Chamberlain was Hunold, / masters all in courtesy. 12 Of the kings' high honor / and their far-reaching might, Of their full lofty majesty / and how each gallant knight Found his chiefest pleasure / in the life of chivalry, In sooth by mortal never / might it full related be. 13 Amid this life so noble / did dream the fair Kriemhild How that she reared a falcon, / in beauty strong and wild, That by two eagles perished; / the cruel sight to see Did fill her heart with sorrow / as great as in this world might be. 14 The dream then to her mother / Queen Ute she told, But she could not the vision / than thus more clear unfold: "The falcon that thou rearedst, / doth mean a noble spouse: God guard him well from evil / or thou thy hero soon must lose." 15 "Of spouse, O darling mother, / what dost thou tell to me? Without a knight to woo me, / so will I ever be, Unto my latest hour / I'll live a simple maid, That I through lover's wooing / ne'er be brought to direst need." 16 "Forswear it not so rashly," / her mother then replied. "On earth if thou wilt ever / cast all care aside, 'Tis love alone will do it; / thou shalt be man's delight, If God but kindly grant thee / to wed a right good valiant knight." 17 "Now urge the case, dear mother," / quoth she, "not further here. Fate of many another / dame hath shown full clear How joy at last doth sorrow / lead oft-times in its train. That I no ruth may borrow, / from both alike I'll far remain." 18 Long time, too, did Kriemhild / her heart from love hold free, And many a day the maiden / lived right happily, Ere good knight saw she any / whom she would wish to woo. In honor yet she wedded / anon a worthy knight and true. 19 He was that same falcon / she saw the dream within Unfolded by her mother. / Upon her nearest kin, That they did slay him later, / how wreaked she vengeance wild! Through death of this one hero / died many another mother's child. SECOND ADVENTURE Siegfried 20 There grew likewise in Netherland / a prince of noble kind, Siegmund hight his father, / his mother Siegelind-- Within a lordly castle / well known the country o'er, By the Rhine far downward: / Xanten was the name it bore. 21 Siegfried they did call him, / this bold knight and good; Many a realm he tested, / for brave was he of mood. He rode to prove his prowess / in many a land around: Heigh-ho! what thanes of mettle / anon in Burgundy he found! 22 In the springtime of his vigor, / when he was young and bold, Could tales of mickle wonder / of Siegfried be told, How he grew up in honor, / and how fair he was to see: Anon he won the favor / of many a debonair lady. 23 As for a prince was fitting, / they fostered him with care: Yet how the knightly virtues / to him native were! 'Twas soon the chiefest glory / of his father's land, That he in fullest measure / endowed with princely worth did stand. 24 He soon was grown in stature / that he at court did ride. The people saw him gladly, / lady and maid beside Did wish that his own liking / might lead him ever there. That they did lean unto him / the knight was soon right well aware. 25 In youth they let him never / without safe escort ride; Soon bade Siegmund and Siegelind / apparel rich provide; Men ripe in wisdom taught him, / who knew whence honor came. Thus many lands and people / he won by his wide-honored name. 26 Now was he of such stature / that he could weapons bear: Of what thereto he needed / had he an ample share. Then to think of loving / fair maids did he begin, And well might they be honored / for wooer Siegfried bold to win. 27 Then bade his father Siegmund / make known to one and all That he with his good kinsmen / would hold high festival. And soon were tidings carried / to all the neighboring kings; To friends at home and strangers / steeds gave he and rich furnishings. 28 Wherever they found any / who knight was fit to be By reason of his kindred, / all such were courteously Unto the land invited / to join the festal throng, When with the prince so youthful / on them the knightly sword was hung. 29 Of this high time of revelry / might I great wonders tell. Siegmund and Siegelind / great honor won full well, Such store of goodly presents / they dealt with generous hand, That knights were seen full many / from far come pricking to their land. 30 Four hundred lusty squires / were there to be clad In knight's full garb with Siegfried. / Full many a beauteous maid At work did never tire, / for dear they did him hold, And many a stone full precious / those ladies laid within the gold, 31 That they upon the doublets / embroidered cunningly Of those soon to be knighted: / 't was thus it had to be, Seats bade the host for many / a warrior bold make right Against the high midsummer, / when Siegfried won the name of knight. 32 Then went unto the minster / full many a noble knight And gallant squires beside them. / The elder there with right Did wait upon the younger, / as once for them was done. They were all light-hearted, / in hope of pleasure every one. 33 God to praise and honor / they sang the mass' song; There, too, were crowds of people, / a great and surging throng, When after knightly custom / knighthood received they then, In such a stately pageant / as scarce might ever be again. 34 They hastened where they found them / saddled many a steed; In the court of Siegmund's castle / they tilted with such speed That far the din resounded / through castle and through hall, As in the play with clamor / did join the fiery riders all. 35 Well-tried old knights and youthful / met there in frequent clash, There was sound of shattered lances / that through the air did crash, And along before the castle / were splinters seen to fly From hands of knights a many: / each with other there did vie. 36 The king he bade give over: / they led the chargers out: There was seen all shattered / many a boss well-wrought, And many a stone full costly / lay there upon the sward From erstwhile shining shield-bands, / now broken in the jousting hard. 37 The guests all went thereafter / where seats for them were reared; They by the choicest viands / from weariness were cheered, And wine, of all the rarest, / that then in plenty flowed. Upon both friends and strangers / were fitting honors rich bestowed. 38 In such merry manner / all day did last the feast. Many a wandering minstrel / knew not any rest, But sang to win the presents / dealt out with bounteous hand; And with their praise was honored / far and wide King Siegmund's land. 39 The monarch then did order / Siegfried his youthful son In fee give lands and castles, / as he erstwhile had done. To all his sword-companions / he gave with such full hand, That joyed they o'er the journey / they now had made unto that land. 40 The festival yet lasted / until the seventh day. Siegelind after old custom / in plenty gave away --For so her son she honored-- / rich gifts of shining gold: In sooth deserved she richly / that all should him in honor hold. 41 Never a wandering minstrel / was unprovided found: Horses there and raiment / so free were dealt around, As if to live they had not / beyond it one day more. I ween a monarch's household / ne'er bestowed such gifts before. 42 Thus closed the merry feasting / in this right worthy way, And 't was well known thereafter / how those good knights did say That they the youthful hero / for king would gladly have; But this nowise he wished for, / Siegfried the stately knight and brave. 43 While that they both were living, / Siegmund and Siegelind, No crown their son desired, / --thereto he had no mind. Yet would he fain be master / o'er all the hostile might That in the lands around him / opposed the keen and fiery knight. THIRD ADVENTURE. How Siegfried came to Worms 44 Seldom in sooth, if ever, / the hero's heart was sad. He heard them tell the story, / how that a winsome maid There lived afar in Burgundy, / surpassing fair to see: Great joy she brought him later, / but eke she brought him misery. 45 Of her exceeding beauty / the fame spread far and near, And of the thing, moreover, / were knights oft-times aware How the maid's high spirit / no mortal could command: The thing lured many a stranger / from far unto King Gunther's land. 46 Although to win her favor / were many wooers bent, In her own heart would never / Kriemhild thereto consent That any one amongst them / for lover she would have: Still to her was he a stranger / to whom anon her troth she gave. 47 To true love turned his fancy / the son of Siegelind. 'Gainst his, all others' wooing / was like an idle wind: Full well did he merit / a lady fair to woo, And soon the noble Kriemhild / to Siegfried bold was wedded true. 48 By friends he oft was counselled, / and many a faithful man, Since to think of wooing / in earnest he began, That he a wife should find him / of fitting high degree. Then spoke the noble Siegfried: / "In sooth fair Kriemhild shall it be, 49 "The noble royal maiden / in Burgundy that dwells, For sake of all her beauty. / Of her the story tells, Ne'er monarch was so mighty / that, if for spouse he sighed, 'Twere not for him befitting / to take the princess for his bride." 50 Unto King Siegmund also / the thing was soon made known. His people talked about it, / whereby to him was shown The Prince's fixed purpose. / It grieved him sorely, too, That his son intent was / the full stately maid to woo. 51 Siegelind asked and learned it, / the noble monarch's wife. For her loved son she sorrowed / lest he should lose his life, For well she knew the humor / of Gunther and his men. Then gan they from the wooing / strive to turn the noble thane. 52 Then said the doughty Siegfried: / "O father dear to me, Without the love of woman / would I ever be, Could I not woo in freedom / where'er my heart is set. Whate'er be said by any, / I'll keep the selfsame purpose yet." 53 "Since thou wilt not give over," / the king in answer said, "Am I of this thy purpose / inwardly full glad, And straightway to fulfil it / I'll help as best I can, Yet in King Gunther's service / is many a haughty-minded man. 54 "And were there yet none other / than Hagen, warrior-knight, He with such haughty bearing / is wont to show his might, That I do fear right sorely / that sad our end may be, If we set out with purpose / to win the stately maid for thee." 55 "Shall we by that be hindered?" / outspake Siegfried then; "Whate'er in friendly fashion / I cannot obtain I'll yet in other manner / take that, with sword in hand. I trow from them I'll further / wrest both their vassals and their land." 56 "I grieve to hear thy purpose," / said Siegmund the king; "If any one this story / unto the Rhine should bring, Then durst thou never after / within that land be seen. Gunther and Gernot, / --well known to me they long have been. 57 "By force, however mighty, / no man can win the maid," Spake King Siegmund further, / "to me hath oft been said. But if with knightly escort / thither thou wilt ride, Good friends--an have we any-- / shall soon be summoned to thy side." 58 "No wish," then answered Siegfried, / "it ever was of mine, That warrior knights should follow / with me unto the Rhine As if arrayed for battle: / 'twould make my heart full sad, To force in hostile manner / to yield to me the stately maid. 59 "By my own hand--thus only-- / trust I to win my bride; With none but twelve in company / to Gunther's land I'll ride. In this, O royal father, / thy present help I pray." Gray and white fur raiment / had his companions for the way. 60 Siegelind his mother / then heard the story too, And grieved she was on hearing / what her dear son would do, For she did fear to lose him / at hands of Gunther's men. Thereat with heart full heavy / began to weep the noble queen. 61 Then came forth Sir Siegfried / where the queen he sought, And to his weeping mother / thus gently spake his thought: "No tear of grief thou shouldest / ever shed for me, For I care not a tittle / for all the warriors that be. 62 "So help me on my journey / to the land of Burgundy, And furnish such apparel / for all my knights and me, As warriors of our station / might well with honor wear. Then I in turn right truly / to thee my gratitude will swear." 63 "Since thou wilt not give over," / Siegelind then replied, "My only son, I'll help thee / as fits thee forth to ride, With the best apparel / that riders ever wore, Thee and thy companions: / ye shall of all have goodly store." 64 Then bowed the youthful Siegfried / the royal dame before, And said: "Upon the journey / will I take no more, But twelve good knights only: / for these rich dress provide, For I would know full gladly / how 't doth with Kriemhild betide." 65 Then sat at work fair women / by night and eke by day, And rest indeed but little / from busy toil had they, Until they had made ready / the dress Siegfried should wear. Firm bent upon the journey, / no other counsel would he hear. 66 His father bade a costly / garb for him prepare, That leaving Siegmund's country / he the same might wear. For all their glittering breastplates / were soon prepared beside, And helmets firmly welded, / and shining shields long and wide. 67 Then fast the day grew nearer / when they should thence depart. Men and likewise women / went sorrowing in heart, If that they should ever / see more their native land. With full equipment laden / the sumpter horses there did stand. 68 Their steeds were stately, furnished / with trappings rich with gold; It were a task all bootless / to seek for knights more bold Than were the gallant Siegfried / and his chosen band. He longed to take departure / straightway for Burgundian land. 69 Leave granted they with sadness, / both the king and queen, The which to turn to gladness / sought the warrior keen, And spake then: "Weep ye shall not / at all for sake of me, Forever free from doubtings / about my safety may ye be." 70 Stern warriors stood there sorrowing, / --in tears was many a maid. I ween their hearts erred nothing, / as sad forebodings said That 'mongst their friends so many / thereby were doomed to die. Good cause had they to sorrow / at last o'er all their misery. 71 Upon the seventh morning / to Worms upon the strand Did come the keen knights riding. / Bright shone many a band Of gold from their apparel / and rich equipment then; And gently went their chargers / with Siegfried and his chosen men. 72 New-made shields they carried / that were both strong and wide And brightly shone their helmets / as thus to court did ride Siegfried the keen warrior / into King Gunther's land. Of knights before was never / beheld so richly clad a band. 73 The points of their long scabbards / reached down unto the spur, And spear full sharply pointed / bore each chosen warrior. The one that Siegfried carried / in breadth was two good span, And grimly cut its edges / when driven by the fearless man. 74 Reins with gold all gleaming / held they in the hand, The saddle-bands were silken. / So came they to the land. On every side the people / to gape at them began, And also out to meet them / the men that served King Gunther ran. 75 Gallant men high-hearted, / knight and squire too, Hastened to receive them, / for such respect was due, And bade the guests be welcome / unto their master's land. They took from them their chargers, / and shields as well from out the hand. 76 Then would they eke the chargers / lead forth unto their rest; But straight the doughty Siegfried / to them these words addressed: "Yet shall ye let our chargers / stand the while near by; Soon take we hence our journey; / thereon resolved full well am I. 77 "If that be known to any, / let him not delay, Where I your royal master / now shall find, to say,-- Gunther, king so mighty / o'er the land of Burgundy." Then told him one amongst them / to whom was known where that might be: 78 "If that the king thou seekest, / right soon may he be found. Within that wide hall yonder / with his good knights around But now I saw him sitting. / Thither do thou repair, And thou may'st find around him / many a stately warrior there." 79 Now also to the monarch / were the tidings told, That within his castle / were knights arrived full bold, All clad in shining armor / and apparelled gorgeously; But not a man did know them / within the land of Burgundy. 80 Thereat the king did wonder / whence were come to him These knights adventure seeking / in dress so bright and trim, And shields adorned so richly / that new and mighty were. That none the thing could tell him / did grieve him sorely to hear. 81 Outspake a knight then straightway, / Ortwein by name was he, Strong and keen as any / well was he known to be: "Since we of them know nothing, / bid some one quickly go And fetch my uncle Hagen: / to him thou shalt the strangers show. 82 "To him are known far kingdoms / and every foreign land, And if he know these strangers / we soon shall understand." The king then sent to fetch him: / with his train of men Unto the king's high presence / in stately gear went he then. 83 What were the king's good pleasure, / asked Hagen grim in war. "In the court within my castle / are warriors from afar, And no one here doth know them: / if them thou e'er didst see In any land far distant, / now shalt thou, Hagen, tell to me." 84 "That will I do, 'tis certain."-- / To a window then he went, And on the unknown strangers / his keen eye he bent. Well pleased him their equipment / and the rich dress they wore, Yet ne'er had he beheld them / in land of Burgundy before. 85 He said that whencesoever / these knights come to the Rhine, They bear a royal message, / or are of princely line. "Their steeds are so bedizened, / and their apparel rare: No matter whence they journey, / high-hearted men in truth they are." 86 Further then spake Hagen: / "As far as goes my ken, Though I the noble Siegfried / yet have never seen, Yet will I say meseemeth, / howe'er the thing may be, This knight who seeks adventure, / and yonder stands so proud, is he. 87 "'Tis some new thing he bringeth / hither to our land. The valiant Nibelungen / fell by the hero's hand, Schilbung and Nibelung, / from royal sire sprung; Deeds he wrought most wondrous / anon when his strong arm he swung. 88 "As once alone the hero / rode without company, Found he before a mountain / --as hath been told to me-- With the hoard of Nibelung / full many stalwart men; To him had they been strangers / until he chanced to find them then. 89 "The hoard of King Nibelung / entire did they bear Forth from a mountain hollow. / And now the wonder hear, How that they would share it, / these two Nibelung men. This saw the fearless Siegfried, / and filled he was with wonder then. 90 "He came so near unto them / that he the knights espied, And they in turn him also. / One amongst them said: 'Here comes the doughty Siegfried, / hero of Netherland.' Since 'mongst the Nibelungen / strange wonders wrought his mighty hand. 91 "Right well did they receive him, / Schilbung and Nibelung, And straight they both together, / these noble princes young, Bade him mete out the treasure, / the full valorous man, And so long time besought him / that he at last the task began. 92 "As we have heard in story, / he saw of gems such store That they might not be laden / on wagons full five score; More still of gold all shining / from Nibelungenland. 'Twas all to be divided / between them by keen Siegfried's hand. 93 "Then gave they him for hire / King Nibelung's sword. And sooth to say, that service / brought them but small reward, That for them there performed / Siegfried of dauntless mood. His task he could not finish; / thereat they raged as were they wood. 94 "They had there of their followers / twelve warriors keen, And strong they were as giants: / what booted giants e'en? Them slew straightway in anger / Siegfried's mighty hand, And warriors seven hundred / he felled in Nibelungenland 95 "With the sword full trusty, / Balmung that hight. Full many a youthful warrior / from terror at the sight Of that deadly weapon / swung by his mighty hand Did render up his castle / and pledge him fealty in the land. 96 "Thereto the kings so mighty, / them slew he both as well. But into gravest danger / through Alberich he fell, Who thought for his slain masters / vengeance to wreak straightway, Until the mighty Siegfried / his wrath with strong arm did stay. 97 "Nor could prevail against him / the Dwarf, howe'er he tried. E'en as two wild lions / they coursed the mountainside, Where he the sightless mantle[1] / from Alberich soon won. Then Siegfried, knight undaunted, / held the treasure for his own. [1] This is the _tarnkappe_, a cloak that made the wearer invisible, and also gave him the strength of twelve men. 98 "Who then dared join the struggle, / all slain around they lay. Then he bade the treasure / to draw and bear away Thither whence 'twas taken / by the Nibelungen men. Alberich for his valor / was then appointed Chamberlain. 99 "An oath he had to swear him, / he'd serve him as his slave; To do all kinds of service / his willing pledge he gave"-- Thus spake of Tronje Hagen-- / "That has the hero done; Might as great before him / was never in a warrior known. 100 "Still know I more about him, / that has to me been told. A dragon, wormlike monster, / slew once the hero bold. Then in its blood he bathed him, / since when his skin hath been So horn-hard, ne'er a weapon / can pierce it, as hath oft been seen. 101 "Let us the brave knight-errant / receive so courteously That we in nought shall merit / his hate, for strong is he. He is so keen of spirit / he must be treated fair: He has by his own valor / done many a deed of prowess rare." 102 The monarch spake in wonder: / "In sooth thou tellest right. Now see how proudly yonder / he stands prepared for fight, He and his thanes together, / the hero wondrous keen! To greet him we'll go thither, / and let our fair intent be seen." 103 "That canst thou," out spake Hagen, / "well in honor do. He is of noble kindred, / a high king's son thereto. 'Tis seen in all his bearing; / meseems in truth, God wot, The tale is worth the hearing / that this bold knight has hither brought." 104 Then spake the mighty monarch: / "Be he right welcome here. Keen is he and noble, / of fame known far and near. So shall he be fair treated / in the land of Burgundy." Down then went King Gunther, / and Siegfried with his men found he. 105 The king and his knights with him / received so well the guest, That the hearty greeting / did their good will attest. Thereat in turn the stranger / in reverence bowed low, That in their welcome to him / they did such courtesy bestow. 106 "To me it is a wonder," / straightway spake the host, "From whence, O noble Siegfried, / come to our land thou dost, Or what here thou seekest / at Worms upon the Rhine." Him the stranger answered: / "Put thou away all doubts of thine. 107 "I oft have heard the tiding / within my sire's domain, How at thy court resided / --and know this would I fain-- Knights, of all the keenest, / --'tis often told me so-- That e'er a monarch boasted: / now come I hither this to know. 108 "Thyself have I heard also / high praised for knightly worth; 'Tis said a nobler monarch / ne'er lived in all the earth. Thus speak of thee the people / in all the lands around. Nor will I e'er give over / until in this the truth I've found. 109 "I too am warrior noble / and born to wear a crown; So would I right gladly / that thou of me shouldst own That I of right am master / o'er people and o'er land. Of this shall now my honor / and eke my head as pledges stand. 110 "And art thou then so valiant / as hath to me been told, I reck not, will he nill he / thy best warrior bold, I'll wrest from thee in combat / whatever thou may'st have; Thy lands and all thy castles / shall naught from change of masters save." 111 The king was seized with wonder / and all his men beside, To see the manner haughty / in which the knight replied That he was fully minded / to take from him his land. It chafed his thanes to hear it, / who soon in raging mood did stand. 112 "How could it be my fortune," / Gunther the king outspoke, "What my sire long ruled over / in honor for his folk, Now to lose so basely / through any vaunter's might? In sooth 'twere nobly showing / that we too merit name of knight!" 113 "Nowise will I give over," / was the keen reply. "If peace through thine own valor / thy land cannot enjoy, To me shall all be subject: / if heritage of mine Through thy arm's might thou winnest, / of right shall all hence-forth be thine. 114 "Thy land and all that mine is, / at stake shall equal lie. Whiche'er of us be victor / when now our strength we try, To him shall all be subject, / the folk and eke the land." But Hagen spake against it, / and Gernot too was quick at hand. 115 "Such purpose have we never," / Gernot then said, "For lands to combat ever, / that any warrior dead Should lie in bloody battle. / We've mighty lands and strong; Of right they call us master, / and better they to none belong." 116 There stood full grim and moody / Gernot's friends around, And there as well amongst them / was Ortwein to be found. He spake: "This mild peace-making / doth grieve me sore at heart, For by the doughty Siegfried / attacked all undeserved thou art. 117 "If thou and thy two brothers / yourselves to help had naught, And if a mighty army / he too had hither brought, I trow I'd soon be able / to make this man so keen His manner now so haughty / of need replace by meeker mien." 118 Thereat did rage full sorely / the hero of Netherland: "Never shall be measured / 'gainst me in fight thy hand. I am a mighty monarch, / thou a king's serving-knight; Of such as thou a dozen / dare not withstand me in the fight." 119 For swords then called in anger / of Metz Sir Ortwein: Son of Hagen's sister / he was, of Tronje's line. That Hagen so long was silent / did grieve the king to see. Gernot made peace between them: / a gallant knight and keen was he. 120 Spake he thus to Ortwein: / "Curb now thy wrathful tongue, For here the noble Siegfried / hath done us no such wrong; We yet can end the quarrel / in peace,--such is my rede-- And live with him in friendship; / that were for us a worthier deed." 121 Then spake the mighty Hagen: / "Sad things do I forebode For all thy train of warriors, / that this knight ever rode Unto the Rhine thus armed. / 'Twere best he stayed at home; For from my masters never / to him such wrong as this had come." 122 But outspake Siegfried proudly, / whose heart was ne'er dismayed: "An't please thee not, Sir Hagen, / what I now have said, This arm shall give example / whereby thou plain shall see How stern anon its power / here in Burgundy will be." 123 "Yet that myself will hinder," / said then Gernot. All his men forbade he / henceforth to say aught With such unbridled spirit / to stir the stranger's ire. Then Siegfried eke was mindful / of one most stately maid and fair. 124 "Such strife would ill befit us," / Gernot spake again; "For though should die in battle / a host of valiant men 'Twould bring us little honor / and ye could profit none." Thereto gave Siegfried answer, / good King Siegmund's noble son: 125 "Wherefore bides thus grim Hagen, / and Ortwein tardy is To begin the combat / with all those friends of his, Of whom he hath so many / here in Burgundy?" Answer him they durst not, / for such was Gernot's stern decree. 126 "Thou shalt to us be welcome," / outspake young Giselher, "And all thy brave companions / that hither with thee fare. Full gladly we'll attend thee, / I and all friends of mine." For the guests then bade they / pour out in store of Gunther's wine. 127 Then spake the stately monarch: / "But ask thou courteously, And all that we call ours / stands at thy service free; So with thee our fortune / we'll share in ill and good." Thereat the noble Siegfried / a little milder was of mood. 128 Then carefully was tended / all their knightly gear, And housed in goodly manner / in sooth the strangers were, All that followed Siegfried; / they found a welcome rest. In Burgundy full gladly / anon was seen the noble guest. 129 They showed him mickle honor / thereafter many a day, And more by times a thousand / than I to you could say. His might respect did merit, / ye may full well know that. Scarce a man e'er saw him / who bore him longer any hate. 130 And when they held their pastime, / the kings with many a man, Then was he ever foremost; / whatever they began, None there that was his equal, / --so mickle was his might-- If they the stone were putting, / or hurling shaft with rival knight. 131 As is the knightly custom, / before the ladies fair To games they turned for pastime, / these knights of mettle rare; Then ever saw they gladly / the hero of Netherland. But he had fixed his fancy / to win one fairest maiden's hand. 132 In all that they were doing / he'd take a ready part. A winsome loving maiden / he bore within his heart; Him only loved that lady, / whose face he ne'er had seen, But she full oft in secret / of him spake fairest words, I ween. 133 And when before the castle / they sped in tournament, The good knights and squires, / oft-times the maiden went And gazed adown from casement, / Kriemhild the princess rare. Pastime there was none other / for her that could with this compare. 134 And knew he she was gazing / whom in his heart he bore, He joy enough had found him / in jousting evermore. And might he only see her, / --that can I well believe-- On earth through sight none other / his eyes could such delight receive. 135 Whene'er with his companions / to castle court he went, E'en as do now the people / whene'er on pleasure bent, There stood 'fore all so graceful / Siegelind's noble son, For whom in love did languish / the hearts of ladies many a one. 136 Eke thought he full often: / "How shall it ever be, That I the noble maiden / with my own eyes may see, Whom I do love so dearly / and have for many a day? To me is she a stranger, / which sorely grieves my heart to say." 137 Whene'er the kings so mighty / rode o'er their broad domain, Then of valiant warriors / they took a stately train. With them abroad rode Siegfried, / which grieved those ladies sore: --He too for one fair maiden / at heart a mickle burden bore. 138 Thus with his hosts he lingered / --'tis every tittle true-- In King Gunther's country / a year completely through, And never once the meanwhile / the lovely maid did see, Through whom such joy thereafter / for him, and eke such grief should be. FOURTH ADVENTURE How Siegfried fought with the Saxons 139 Now come wondrous tidings / to King Gunther's land, By messengers brought hither / from far upon command Of knights unknown who harbored / against him secret hate. When there was heard the story, / at heart in sooth the grief was great. 140 Of these I now will tell you: / There was King Luedeger From out the land of Saxons, / a mighty warrior, And eke from land of Denmark / Luedegast the king: Whene'er they rode to battle / went they with mighty following. 141 Come were now their messengers / to the land of Burgundy, Sent forth by these foemen / in proud hostility. Then asked they of the strangers / what tidings they did bring: And when they heard it, straightway / led them to court before the king. 142 Then spake to them King Gunther: / "A welcome, on my word. Who 'tis that send you hither, / that have I not yet heard: Now shall ye let me know it," / spake the monarch keen. Then dreaded they full sorely / to see King Gunther's angry mien. 143 "Wilt them, O king, permit us / the tidings straight to tell That we now have brought thee, / no whit will we conceal, But name thee both our masters / who us have hither sent: Luedegast and Luedeger, / --to waste thy land is their intent. 144 "Their hate hast thou incurred, / and thou shalt know in sooth That high enraged against thee / are the monarchs both. Their hosts they will lead hither / to Worms upon the Rhine; They're helped by thanes full many-- / of this put off all doubts of thine. 145 "Within weeks a dozen / their march will they begin; And if thy friends be valiant, / let that full quick be seen, To help thee keep in safety / thy castles and thy land: Full many a shield and helmet / shall here be cleft by warrior's hand. 146 "Or wilt thou with them parley, / so let it quick be known, Before their hosts so mighty / of warlike men come down To Worms upon Rhine river / sad havoc here to make, Whereby must death most certain / many a gallant knight o'ertake." 147 "Bide ye now the meanwhile," / the king did answer kind, "Till I take better counsel; / then shall ye know my mind. Have I yet warriors faithful, / from these I'll naught conceal, But to my friends I'll straightway / these warlike tidings strange reveal." 148 The lordly Gunther wondered / thereat and troubled sore, As he the message pondered / in heart and brooded o'er. He sent to fetch grim Hagen / and others of his men, And bade likewise in hurry / to court bring hither Gernot then. 149 Thus at his word his trusted / advisers straight attend. He spake: "Our land to harry / foes all unknown will send Of men a mighty army; / a grievous wrong is this. Small cause have we e'er given / that they should wish us aught amiss." 150 "Our swords ward such things from us," / Gernot then said; "Since but the fated dieth, / so let all such lie dead. Wherefore I'll e'er remember / what honor asks of me: Whoe'er hath hate against us / shall ever here right welcome be." 151 Then spake the doughty Hagen: / "Methinks 'twould scarce be good; Luedegast and Luedeger / are men of wrathful mood. Help can we never summon, / the days are now so few." So spake the keen old warrior, / "'Twere well Siegfried the tidings knew." 152 The messengers in the borough / were harbored well the while, And though their sight was hateful, / in hospitable style As his own guests to tend them / King Gunther gave command, Till 'mongst his friends he learned / who by him in his need would stand. 153 The king was filled with sorrow / and his heart was sad. Then saw his mournful visage / a knight to help full glad, Who could not well imagine / what 'twas that grieved him so. Then begged he of King Gunther / the tale of this his grief to know. 154 "To me it is great wonder," / said Siegfried to the king, "How thou of late hast changed / to silent sorrowing The joyous ways that ever / with us thy wont have been." Then unto him gave answer / Gunther the full stately thane: 155 "'Tis not to every person / I can the burden say That ever now in secret / upon my heart doth weigh: To well-tried friends and steady / are told our inmost woes." --Siegfried at first was pallid, / but soon his blood like fire up-rose. 156 He spake unto the monarch: / "To thee I've naught denied. All ills that now do threaten / I'll help to turn aside. And if but friends thou seekest, / of them the first I'll be, And trow I well with honor / till death to serve thee faithfully." 157 "God speed thee well, Sir Siegfried, / for this thy purpose fair: And though such help in earnest / thy arm should render ne'er, Yet do I joy at hearing / thou art so true to me. And live I yet a season, / right heartily repaid 'twill be. 158 "Know will I also let thee / wherefore I sorrowing stand. Through messengers from my foemen / have tidings reached my land That they with hosts of warriors / will ride my country o'er; Such thing to us did never / thanes of any land before." 159 "Small cause is that for grieving," / said then Siegfried; "But calm thy troubled spirit / and hearken to my rede: Let me for thee acquire / honor and vantage too, And bid thou now assemble / for service eke thy warriors true. 160 "And had thy mighty enemies / to help them now at hand Good thanes full thirty thousand, / against them all I'd stand, Had I but one good thousand: / put all thy trust in me." Then answered him King Gunther: / "Thy help shall full requited be." 161 "Then bid for me to summon / a thousand of thy men, Since I now have with me / of all my knightly train None but twelve knights only; / then will I guard thy land. For thee shall service faithful / be done alway by Siegfried's hand. 162 "Herein shall help us Hagen / and eke Ortwein, Dankwart and Sindold, / those trusted knights of thine; And with us too shall journey / Volker, the valiant man; The banner he shall carry: / bestow it better ne'er I can. 163 "Back to their native country / the messengers may go; They'll see us there right quickly, / let them full surely know, So that all our castles / peace undisturbed shall have." Then bade the king to summon / his friends with all their warriors brave. 164 To court returned the heralds / King Luedeger had sent, And on their journey homeward / full joyfully they went. King Gunther gave them presents / that costly were and good, And granted them safe convoy; / whereat they were of merry mood. 165 "Tell ye my foes," spake Gunther, / "when to your land ye come, Than making journeys hither / they better were at home; But if they still be eager / to make such visit here, Unless my friends forsake me, / cold in sooth shall be their cheer." 166 Then for the messengers / rich presents forth they bore, Whereof in sooth to give them / Gunther had goodly store: And they durst not refuse them / whom Luedeger had sent. Leave then they took immediate, / and homeward joyfully they went. 167 When to their native Denmark / the messengers returned, And the king Luedegast / the answer too had learned, They at the Rhine had sent him, / --when that to him was told, His wrath was all unbounded / to have reply in words so bold. 168 'Twas said their warriors numbered / many a man full keen: "There likewise among them / with Gunther have we seen Of Netherland a hero, / the same that Siegfried hight." King Luedegast was grieved, / when he their words had heard aright. 169 When throughout all Denmark / the tidings quick spread o'er, Then in hot haste they summoned / helpers all the more, So that King Luedegast, / 'twixt friends from far and near, Had knights full twenty thousand / all furnished well with shield and spear. 170 Then too his men did summon / of Saxony Luedeger, Till they good forty thousand, / and more, had gathered there, With whom to make the journey / 'gainst the land of Burgundy. --At home likewise the meanwhile / King Gunther had sent forth decree 171 Mighty men to summon / of his own and brothers twain, Who against the foemen / would join the armed train. In haste they made them ready, / for right good cause they had. Amongst them must thereafter / full many a noble thane lie dead. 172 To march they quick made ready. / And when they thence would fare, The banner to the valiant / Volker was given to bear, As they began the journey / from Worms across the Rhine; Strong of arm grim Hagen / was chosen leader of the line. 173 With them there rode Sindold / and eke the keen Hunold Who oft at hands of Gunther / had won rewards of gold; Dankwart, Hagen's brother, / and Ortwein beside, Who all could well with honor / in train of noble warriors ride. 174 "King Gunther," spake then Siegfried, / "stay thou here at home; Since now thy knights so gallant / with me will gladly come, Rest thou here with fair ladies, / and be of merry mood: I trow we'll keep in safety / thy land and honor as we should. 175 "And well will I see to it / that they at home remain, Who fain would ride against thee / to Worms upon the Rhine. Against them straight we'll journey / into their land so far That they'll be meeker minded / who now such haughty vaunters are." 176 Then from the Rhine through Hesse / the hosts of knights rode on Toward the land of Saxons, / where battle was anon. With fire and sword they harried / and laid the country waste, So that both the monarchs / full well the woes of war did taste. 177 When came they to the border / the train-men onward pressed. With thought of battle-order / Siegfried the thanes addressed: "Who now shall guard our followers / from danger in the rear?" In sooth like this the Saxons / in battle worsted never were. 178 Then said they: "On the journey / the men shall guarded be By the valiant Dankwart, / --a warrior swift is he; So shall we lose the fewer / by men of Luedeger. Let him and Ortwein with him / be chosen now to guard the rear." 179 Spake then the valiant Siegfried: / "Myself will now ride on, And against our enemies / will keep watch in the van, Till I aright discover / where they perchance may be." The son of fair Queen Siegelind / did arm him then immediately. 180 The folk he left to Hagen / when ready to depart, And as well to Gernot, / a man of dauntless heart. Into the land of Saxons / alone he rode away, And by his hand was severed / many a helmet's band that day. 181 He found a mighty army / that lay athwart the plain, Small part of which outnumbered / all those in his own train: Full forty thousand were they / or more good men of might. The hero high in spirit / saw right joyfully the sight. 182 Then had eke a warrior / from out the enemy To guard the van gone forward, / all armed cap-a-pie. Him saw the noble Siegfried, / and he the valiant man; Each one straight the other / to view with angry mien began. 183 Who he was I'll tell you / that rode his men before, --A shield of gold all shining / upon his arm he bore-- In sooth it was King Luedegast / who there the van did guard. Straightway the noble Siegfried / full eagerly against him spurred. 184 Now singled out for combat / him, too, had Luedegast. Then full upon each other / they spurred their chargers fast, As on their shields they lowered / their lances firm and tight, Whereat the lordly monarch / soon found himself in sorry plight. 185 After the shock their chargers / bore the knights so fast Onward past each other / as flew they on the blast. Then turned they deftly backward / obedient to the rein, As with their swords contested / the grim and doughty fighters twain. 186 When Siegfried struck in anger / far off was heard the blow, And flew from off the helmet, / as if 'twere all aglow, The fiery sparks all crackling / beneath his hand around. Each warrior in the other / a foeman worth his mettle found. 187 Full many a stroke with vigor / dealt eke King Luedegast, And on each other's buckler / the blows fell thick and fast. Then thirty men discovered / their master's sorry plight: But ere they came to help him / had doughty Siegfried won the fight. 188 With three mighty gashes / which he had dealt the king Through his shining breastplate / made fast with many a ring. The sword with sharpest edges / from wounds brought forth the blood, Whereat King Luedegast / apace fell into gloomy mood. 189 To spare his life he begged him, / his land he pledged the knight, And told him straight moreover, / that Luedegast he hight. Then came his knights to help him, / they who there had seen How that upon the vanguard / fierce fight betwixt the twain had been. 190 After duel ended, / did thirty yet withstand Of knights that him attended; / but there the hero's hand Kept safe his noble captive / with blows of wondrous might. And soon wrought greater ruin / Siegfried the full gallant knight. 191 Beneath his arm of valor / the thirty soon lay dead. But one the knight left living, / who thence full quickly sped To tell abroad the story / how he the others slew; In sooth the blood-red helmet / spake all the hapless tidings true. 192 Then had the men of Denmark / for all their grief good cause, When it was told them truly / their king a captive was. They told it to King Luedeger, / when he to rage began In anger all unbounded: / for him had grievous harm been done. 193 The noble King Luedegast / was led a prisoner then By hand of mighty Siegfried / back to King Gunther's men, And placed in hands of Hagen: / and when they did hear That 'twas the king of Denmark / they not a little joyful were. 194 He bade the men of Burgundy / then bind the banners on. "Now forward!" Siegfried shouted, / "here shall yet more be done, An I but live to see it; / ere this day's sun depart, Shall mourn in land of Saxons / full many a goodly matron's heart. 195 "Ye warriors from Rhineland, / to follow me take heed, And I unto the army / of Luedeger will lead. Ere we again turn backward / to the land of Burgundy Helms many hewn asunder / by hand of good knights there shall be." 196 To horse then hastened Gernot / and with him mighty men. Volker keen in battle / took up the banner then; He was a doughty Fiddler / and rode the host before. There, too, every follower / a stately suit of armor wore. 197 More than a thousand warriors / they there had not a man, Saving twelve knights-errant. / To rise the dust began In clouds along the highway / as they rode across the fields, And gleaming in the sunlight / were seen the brightly shining shields. 198 Meanwhile eke was nearing / of Saxons a great throng, Each a broadsword bearing / that mickle was and long, With blade that cut full sorely / when swung in strong right hand. 'Gainst strangers were they ready / to guard their castles and their land. 199 The leaders forth to battle / led the warriors then. Come was also Siegfried / with his twelve chosen men, Whom he with him hither / had brought from Netherland. That day in storm of battle / was blood-bespattered many a hand. 200 Sindold and Hunold / and Gernot as well, Beneath their hands in battle / full many a hero fell, Ere that their deeds of valor / were known throughout the host. Through them must many a stately / matron weep for warrior lost. 201 Volker and Hagen / and Ortwein in the fight Lustily extinguished / full many a helmet's light With blood from wounds down flowing,-- / keen fighters every one. And there by Dankwart also / was many a mickle wonder done. 202 The knights of Denmark tested / how they could weapons wield. Clashing there together / heard ye many a shield And 'neath sharp swords resounding, / swung by many an arm. The Saxons keen in combat / wrought 'mid their foes a grievous harm. 203 When the men of Burgundy / pressed forward to the fight, Gaping wounds full many / hewed they there with might. Then flowing down o'er saddle / in streams was seen the blood, So fought for sake of honor / these valiant riders keen and good. 204 Loudly were heard ringing, / wielded by hero's hand, The sharply-cutting weapons, / where they of Netherland Their master followed after / into the thickest throng: Wherever Siegfried led them / rode too those valiant knights along. 205 Of warriors from Rhine river / could follow not a one. There could be seen by any / a stream of blood flow down O'er brightly gleaming helmet / 'neath Siegfried's mighty hand, Until King Luedeger / before him with his men did stand. 206 Three times hither and thither / had he the host cut through From one end to the other. / Now come was Hagen too Who helped him well in battle / to vent his warlike mood. That day beneath his valor / must die full many a rider good. 207 When the doughty Luedeger / Siegfried there found, As he swung high in anger / his arm for blows around And with his good sword Balmung / knights so many slew, Thereat was the keen warrior / filled with grief and anger too. 208 Then mickle was the thronging / and loud the broadswords clashed, As all their valiant followers / 'gainst one another dashed. Then struggled all the fiercer / both sides the fight to win; The hosts joined with each other: / 'twas frightful there to hear the din. 209 To the monarch of the Saxons / it had been told before, His brother was a captive, / which grieved his heart right sore. He knew not that had done it / fair Siegelind's son, For rumor said 'twas Gernot. / Full well he learned the truth anon. 210 King Luedeger struck so mighty / when fierce his anger rose, That Siegfried's steed beneath him / staggered from the blows, But forthwith did recover; / then straight his rider keen Let all his furious mettle / in slaughter of his foes be seen. 211 There helped him well grim Hagen, / and Gernot in the fray, Dankwart and Volker; / dead many a knight there lay. Sindold and Hunold / and Ortwein, doughty thane, By them in that fierce struggle / was many a valiant warrior slain. 212 Unparted in storm of battle / the gallant leaders were, Around them over helmet / flew there many a spear Through shield all brightly shining, / from hand of mighty thane: And on the glancing armor / was seen full many a blood-red stain. 213 Amid the hurly-burly / down fell many a man To ground from off his charger. / Straight 'gainst each other ran Siegfried the keen rider / and eke King Luedeger. Then flew from lance the splinters / and hurled was many a pointed spear. 214 'Neath Siegfried's hand so mighty / from shield flew off the band. And soon to win the victory / thought he of Netherland Over the valiant Saxons, / of whom were wonders seen. Heigh-ho! in shining mail-rings / many a breach made Dankwart keen! 215 Upon the shining buckler / that guarded Siegfried's breast Soon espied King Luedeger / a painted crown for crest; By this same token knew he / it was the doughty man, And to his friends he straightway / amid the battle loud began: 216 "Give o'er from fighting further, / good warriors every one! Amongst our foes now see I / Siegmund's noble son, Of netherland the doughty / knight on victory bent. Him has the evil Devil / to scourge the Saxons hither sent." 217 Then bade he all the banners / amid the storm let down. Peace he quickly sued for: / 'Twas granted him anon, But he must now a hostage / be ta'en to Gunther's land. This fate had forced upon him / the fear of Siegfried's mighty hand. 218 They thus by common counsel / left off all further fight. Hacked full many a helmet / and shields that late were bright From hands down laid they weary; / as many as there might be, With stains they all were bloody / 'neath hands of the men of Burgundy. 219 Each whom he would took captive, / now they had won the fight. Gernot, the noble hero, / and Hagen, doughty knight, Bade bear forth the wounded. / Back led they with them then Unto the land of Burgundy / five hundred stalwart fighting-men. 220 The knights, of victory cheated, / their native Denmark sought, Nor had that day the Saxons / with such high valor fought, That one could praise them for it, / which caused the warriors pain. Then wept their friends full sorely / at home for those in battle slain. 221 For the Rhine then laden / they let their armor be. Siegfried, the knight so doughty, / had won the victory With his few chosen followers; / that he had nobly done, Could not but free acknowledge / King Gunther's warriors every one. 222 To Worms sent Gernot riding / now a messenger, And of the joyous tiding / soon friends at home were ware, How that it well had prospered / with him and all his men. Fought that day with valor / for honor had those warriors keen. 223 The messenger sped forward / and told the tidings o'er. Then joyfully they shouted / who boded ill before, To hear the welcome story / that now to them was told. From ladies fair and noble / came eager questions manifold, 224 Who all the fair fortune / of King Gunther's men would know. One messenger they ordered / unto Kriemhild to go. But that was done in secret: / she durst let no one see, For he was 'mongst those warriors / whom she did love so faithfully. 225 When to her own apartments / was come the messenger Joyfully addressed him / Kriemhild the maiden fair: "But tell me now glad tidings, / and gold I'll give to thee, And if thou tell'st not falsely, / good friend thou'lt ever find in me. 226 "How has my good brother / Gernot in battle sped, And how my other kinsmen? / Lies any of them dead? Who wrought most deeds of valor? / --That shall thou let me know." Then spake the messenger truly: / "No knight but did high valor show. 227 "But in the dire turmoil / rode rider none so well, O Princess fair and noble, / since I must truly tell, As the stranger knight full noble / who comes from Netherland; There deeds of mickle wonder / were wrought by doughty Siegfried's hand. 228 "Whate'er have all the warriors / in battle dared to do, Dankwart and Hagen / and the other knights so true, Howe'er they fought for honor, / 'twas naught but idle play Beside what there wrought Siegfried, / King Siegmund's son, amid the fray. 229 "Beneath their hands in battle / full many a hero fell, Yet all the deeds of wonder / no man could ever tell, Wrought by the hand of Siegfried, / when rode he 'gainst the foe: And weep aloud must women / for friends by his strong arm laid low. 230 "There, too, the knight she loved / full many a maid must lose. Were heard come down on helmet / so loud his mighty blows, That they from gaping gashes / brought forth the flowing blood. In all that maketh noble / he is a valiant knight and good. 231 "Many a deed of daring / of Metz Sir Ortwein wrought: For all was evil faring / whom he with broadsword caught, Doomed to die that instant, / or wounded sore to fall. And there thy valiant brother / did greater havoc work than all 232 "That e'er in storm of battle / was done by warrior bold. Of all those chosen warriors / let eke the truth be told: The proud Burgundian heroes / have made it now right plain, That they can free from insult / their country's honor well maintain. 233 "Beneath their hands was often / full many a saddle bare, When o'er the field resounding / their bright swords cut the air. The warriors from Rhine river / did here such victory win That for their foes 'twere better / if they such meeting ne'er had seen. 234 "Keen the knights of Tronje / 'fore all their valor showed, When with their stalwart followers / against their foes they rode; Slain by the hand of Hagen / must knights so many be, 'Twill long be in the telling / here in the land of Burgundy. 235 "Sindold and Hunold, / Gernot's men each one, And the valiant Rumold / have all so nobly done, King Luedeger will ever / have right good cause to rue That he against thy kindred / at Rhine dared aught of harm to do. 236 "And deeds of all most wondrous / e'er done by warrior keen In earliest time or latest, / by mortal ever seen, Wrought there in lusty manner / Siegfried with doughty hand. Rich hostages he bringeth / with him unto Gunther's land. 237 "By his own strength subdued them / the hero unsurpassed And brought down dire ruin / upon King Luedegast, Eke on the King of Saxons / his brother Luedeger. Now hearken to the story / I tell thee, noble Princess fair. 238 "Them both hath taken captive / Siegfried's doughty hand. Hostages were so many / ne'er brought into this land As to the Rhine come hither / through his great bravery." Than these could never tidings / unto her heart more welcome be. 239 "With captives home they're hieing, / five hundred men or mo', And of the wounded dying / Lady shalt thou know, Full eighty blood-stained barrows / unto Burgundian land, Most part hewn down in battle / beneath keen Siegfried's doughty hand. 240 "Who message sent defiant / unto the Rhine so late Must now as Gunther's prisoners / here abide their fate. Bringing such noble captives / the victors glad return." Then glowed with joy the princess / when she the tidings glad did learn. 241 Her cheeks so full of beauty / with joy were rosy-red, That passed he had uninjured / through all the dangers dread, The knight she loved so dearly, / Siegfried with doughty arm. Good cause she had for joying / o'er all her friends escaped from harm. 242 Then spake the beauteous maiden: / "Glad news thou hast told me, Wherefor now rich apparel / thy goodly meed shall be, And to thee shall be given / ten marks of gold as well." 'Tis thus a thing right pleasant / to ladies high such news to tell. 243 The presents rich they gave him, / gold and apparel rare. Then hastened to the casement / full many a maiden fair, And on the street looked downward: / hither riding did they see Many a knight high-hearted / into the land of Burgundy. 244 There came who 'scaped uninjured, / and wounded borne along, All glad to hear the greetings / of friends, a joyful throng. To meet his friends the monarch / rode out in mickle glee: In joying now was ended / all his full great anxiety. 245 Then did he well his warriors / and eke the strangers greet; And for a king so mighty / 'twere nothing else but meet That he should thank right kindly / the gallant men each one, Who had in storm of battle / the victory so bravely won. 246 Then of his friends King Gunther / bade tidings tell straightway, Of all his men how many / were fallen in the fray. Lost had he none other / than warriors three score: Then wept they for the heroes, / as since they did for many more. 247 Shields full many brought they / all hewn by valiant hand, And many a shattered helmet / into King Gunther's hand. The riders then dismounted / from their steeds before the hall, And a right hearty welcome / from friends rejoicing had they all. 248 Then did they for the warriors / lodging meet prepare, And for his guests the monarch / bade full well have care. He bade them take the wounded / and tend them carefully, And toward his enemies also / his gentle bearing might ye see. 249 To Luedeger then spake he: / "Right welcome art thou here. Through fault of thine now have I / lost many friends full dear, For which, have I good fortune, / thou shall right well atone. God rich reward my liegemen, / such faithfulness to me they've shown." 250 "Well may'st thou thank them, truly," / spake then Luedeger; "Hostages so noble / won a monarch ne'er. For chivalrous protection / rich goods we offer thee, That thou now right gracious / to us thy enemies shalt be." 251 "I'll grant you both your freedom," / spake the king again; "But that my enemies surely / here by me remain, Therefor I'll have good pledges / they ne'er shall quit my land, Save at my royal pleasure." / Thereto gave Luedeger the hand. 252 Sweet rest then found the weary / their tired limbs to aid, And gently soon on couches / the wounded knights were laid; Mead and wine right ruddy / they poured out plenteously: Than they and all their followers / merrier men there none might be. 253 Their shields all hacked in battle / secure were laid away; And not a few of saddles / stained with blood that day, Lest women weep to see them, / hid they too from sight. Full many a keen rider / home came aweary from the fight. 254 The host in gentlest manner / did his guests attend: The land around with stranger / was crowded, and with friend. They bade the sorely wounded / nurse with especial care: Whereby the knights high-hearted / 'neath all their wounds knew not despair. 255 Who there had skill in healing / received reward untold, Silver all unweighed / and thereto ruddy gold For making whole the heroes / after the battle sore. To all his friends the monarch / gave presents rich in goodly store. 256 Who there again was minded / to take his homeward way They bade, as one a friend doth, / yet a while to stay. The king did then take counsel / how to reward each one, For they his will in battle / like liegemen true had nobly done. 257 Then outspake royal Gernot: / "Now let them homeward go; After six weeks are over, / --thus our friends shall know-- To hold high feast they're bidden / hither to come again; Many a knight now lying / sore wounded will be healed ere then. 258 Of Netherland the hero / would also then take leave. When of this King Gunther / did tidings first receive, The knight besought he kindly / not yet his leave to take: To this he'd ne'er consented / an it were not for Kriemhild's sake. 259 A prince he was too noble / to take the common pay; He had right well deserved it / that the king alway And all his warriors held him / in honor, for they had seen What by his arm in battle / bravely had accomplished been. 260 He stayed there yet a little / for the maiden's sake alone, Whom he would see so gladly. / And all fell out full soon As he at heart had wished it: / well known to him was she. Home to his father's country / joyously anon rode he. 261 The king bade at all seasons / keep up the tournament, And many a youthful rider / forth to the lists there went. The while were seats made ready / by Worms upon the strand For all who soon were coming / unto the Burgundian land. 262 In the meantime also, / ere back the knights returned, Had Kriemhild, noble lady, / the tidings likewise learned, The king would hold high feasting / with all his gallant men. There was a mickle hurry, / and busy were fair maidens then 263 With dresses and with wimples / that they there should wear. Ute, queen so stately, / the story too did hear, How to them were coming / proud knights of highest worth. Then from enfolding covers / were store of dresses rich brought forth. 264 Such love she bore her children / she bade rich dress prepare, Wherewith adorned were ladies / and many a maiden fair, And not a few young riders / in the land of Burgundy. For strangers many bade she / rich garments eke should measured be. FIFTH ADVENTURE How Siegfried first saw Kriemhild 265 Unto the Rhine now daily / the knights were seen to ride, Who there would be full gladly / to share the festive tide. To all that thither journeyed / to the king to show them true, In plenty them were given / steeds and rich apparel too. 266 And soon were seats made ready / for every noble guest, As we have heard the story, / for highest and for best, Two and thirty princes / at the festival. Then vied with one another / to deck themselves the ladies all. 267 Never was seen idle / the young Prince Giselher: The guests and all their followers / received full kindly were By him and eke by Gernot / and their men every one. The noble thanes they greeted / as ever 'tis in honor done. 268 With gold bright gleaming saddles / unto the land they brought, Good store of rich apparel / and shields all richly wrought Unto the Rhine they carried / to that high festival. And joyous days were coming / for the wounded warriors all. 269 They who yet on couches / lay wounded grievously For joy had soon forgotten / how bitter death would be: The sick and all the ailing / no need of pity had. Anent the days of feasting / were they o'er the tidings glad, 270 How they should make them merry / there where all were so. Delight beyond all measure, / of joys an overflow, Had in sooth the people / seen on every hand: Then rose a mickle joyance / over all King Gunther's land. 271 Full many a warrior valiant / one morn at Whitsuntide All gorgeously apparelled / was thither seen to ride, Five thousand men or over, / where the feast should be; And vied in every quarter / knight with knight in revelry. 272 Thereof the host was mindful, / for he well did understand How at heart right warmly / the hero of Netherland Loved alone his sister, / though her he ne'er had seen, Who praised for wondrous beauty / before all maidens else had been. 273 Then spake the thane so noble / of Metz Sir Ortwein: "Wilt thou full be honored / by every guest of thine, Then do them all the pleasure / the winsome maids to see, That are held so high in honor / here in the land of Burgundy. 274 "What were a man's chief pleasure, / his very joy of life, An 't were not a lovely maiden / or a stately wife? Then let the maid thy sister / before thy guests appear." --Brave thanes did there full many / at heart rejoice the rede to hear. 275 "Thy words I'll gladly follow," / then the monarch said, And all the knights who heard him / ere thereat right glad. Then told was Queen Ute / and eke her daughter fair, That they with maids in waiting / unto the court should soon repair. 276 Then in well-stored wardrobes / rich attire they sought, And forth from folding covers / their glittering dresses brought, Armbands and silken girdles / of which they many had. And zealous to adorn her / was then full many a winsome maid. 277 Full many a youthful squire / upon that day did try, By decking of his person, / to win fair lady's eye; For the which great good fortune / he'd take no monarch's crown: They longed to see those maidens, / whom they before had never known. 278 For her especial service / the king did order then To wait upon his sister / a hundred of his men, As well upon his mother: / they carried sword in hand. That was the court attendance / there in the Burgundian land. 279 Ute, queen so stately, / then came forth with her: And with the queen in waiting / ladies fair there were, A hundred or over, / in festal robes arrayed. Eke went there with Kriemhild / full many a fair and winsome maid. 280 Forth from their own apartments / they all were seen to go: There was a mickle pressing / of good knights to and fro, Who hoped to win the pleasure, / if such a thing might be, The noble maiden Kriemhild, / delight of every eye, to see. 281 Now came she fair and lovely, / as the ruddy sun of morn From misty clouds emerging. / Straight he who long had borne Her in his heart and loved her, / from all his gloom was freed, As so stately there before him / he saw the fair and lovely maid. 282 Her rich apparel glittered / with many a precious stone, And with a ruddy beauty / her cheeks like roses shone. Though you should wish to do so, / you could not say, I ween, That e'er a fairer lady / in all the world before was seen. 283 As in a sky all starlit / the moon shines out so bright, And through the cloudlets peering / pours down her gentle light, E'en so was Kriemhild's beauty / among her ladies fair: The hearts of gallant heroes / were gladder when they saw her there. 284 The richly clad attendants / moved stately on before, And the valiant thanes high-hearted / stood patiently no more, But pressed right eager forward / to see the lovely maid: In noble Siegfried's bosom / alternate joy and anguish swayed. 285 He thought with heart despairing, / "How could it ever be, That I should win thy favor? / There hoped I foolishly. But had I e'er to shun thee, / then were I rather dead." And oft, to think upon it, / the color from his visage fled. 286 The noble son of Siegmund / did there so stately stand As if his form were pictured / by good old master's hand Upon a piece of parchment. / All who saw, confessed That he of all good heroes / was the stateliest and the best. 287 The fair Kriemhild's attendants / gave order to make way On all sides for the ladies, / and willing thanes obey. To see their noble bearing / did every warrior cheer; Full many a stately lady / of gentle manner born was there. 288 Then outspake of Burgundy / Gernot the valiant knight: "To him who thus has helped thee / so bravely in the fight, Gunther, royal brother, / shalt thou like favor show, A thane before all others; / he's worthy of it well, I trow. 289 "Let then the doughty Siegfried / unto my sister go To have the maiden's greetings, / --'twill be our profit so. She that ne'er greeted hero / shall greet him courteously, That thus the stately warrior / for aye our faithful friend may be." 290 The king's knights hastened gladly / upon his high command And told these joyous tidings / to the prince of Netherland. "It is the king's good pleasure / that thou to court shalt go, To have his sister's greetings; / to honor thee 'tis ordered so." 291 Then was the thane full valiant / thereat soon filled with joy. Yea, bore he in his bosom / delight without alloy At thought that he should straightway / Ute's fair daughter see. Siegfried anon she greeted / in courteous manner lovingly. 292 As she saw the knight high-hearted / there before her stand, Blushed red and spake the maiden, / the fairest of the land: "A welcome, brave Sir Siegfried, / thou noble knight and good." As soon as he had heard it, / the hearty greeting cheered his mood. 293 Before her low he bended; / him by the hand took she, And by her onward wended / the knight full willingly. They cast upon each other / fond glances many a one, The knight and eke the maiden; / furtively it all was done. 294 Whether he pressed friendly / that hand as white as snow From the love he bore her, / that I do not know; Yet believe I cannot / that this was left undone, For straightway showed the maiden / that he her heart had fully won. 295 In the sunny summer season / and in the month of May Had his heart seen never / before so glad a day, Nor one so fully joyous, / as when he walked beside That maiden rich in beauty / whom fain he'd choose to be his bride. 296 Then thought many a warrior: / "Were it likewise granted me To walk beside the maiden, / just as now I see, Or to lie beside her, / how gladly were that done!" But ne'er a knight more fully / had gracious lady's favor won. 297 From all the lands far distant / were guests distinguished there, But fixed each eye was only / upon this single pair. By royal leave did Kriemhild / kiss then the stately knight: In all the world he never / before had known so rare delight. 298 Then full of strange forebodings, / of Denmark spake the king: "This full loving greeting / to many woe will bring, --My heart in secret warns me-- / through Siegfried's doughty hand. God give that he may never / again be seen within my land." 299 On all sides then 'twas ordered / 'fore Kriemhild and her train Of women make free passage. / Full many a valiant thane With her unto the minster / in courtly way went on. But from her side was parted / the full stately knight anon. 300 Then went she to the minster, / and with her many a maid. In such rich apparel / Kriemhild was arrayed, That hearty wishes many / there were made in vain: Her comely form delighted / the eye of many a noble thane. 301 Scarce could tarry Siegfried / till mass was sung the while. And surely did Dame Fortune / upon him kindly smile, To him she was so gracious / whom in his heart he bore. Eke did he the maiden, / as she full well deserved, adore. 302 As after mass then Kriemhild / came to the minster door, The knight his homage offered, / as he had done before. Then began to thank him / the full beauteous maid, That he her royal brothers / did 'gainst their foes so nobly aid. 303 "God speed thee, Sir Siegfried," / spake the maiden fair, "For thou hast well deserved / that all these warriors are, As it hath now been told me, / right grateful unto thee." Then gan he cast his glances / on the Lady Kriemhild lovingly. 304 "True will I ever serve them," / --so spake the noble thane-- "And my head shall never / be laid to rest again, Till I, if life remaineth, / have their good favor won. In sooth, my Lady Kriemhild, / for thy fair grace it all is done." 305 Ne'er a day passed over / for a twelve of happy days, But saw they there beside him / the maiden all did praise, As she before her kinsmen / to court would daily go: It pleased the thane full highly / that they did him such honor show. 306 Delight and great rejoicing, / a mighty jubilee, Before King Gunther's castle / daily might ye see, Without and eke within it, / 'mongst keen men many a one. By Ortwein and by Hagen / great deeds and wondrous there were done. 307 Whate'er was done by any, / in all they ready were To join in way right lusty, / both the warriors rare: Whereby 'mongst all the strangers / they won an honored name, And through their deeds so wondrous / of Gunther's land spread far the fame. 308 Who erstwhile lay sore wounded / now were whole again, And fain would share the pastime, / with all the king's good men; With shields join in the combat, / and try the shaft so long. Wherein did join them many / of the merry-making throng. 309 To all who joined the feasting / the host in plenty bade Supply the choicest viands: / so guarded well he had 'Gainst whate'er reproaches / could rise from spite or spleen. Unto his guests right friendly / to go the monarch now was seen. 310 He spake: "Ye thanes high-hearted, / ere now ye part from me, Accept of these my presents; / for I would willingly Repay your noble service. / Despise ye not, I pray, What now I will share with you: / 'tis offered in right grateful way." 311 Straightway they of Denmark / thus to the king replied: "Ere now upon our journey / home again we ride, We long for lasting friendship. / Thereof we knights have need, For many a well-loved kinsman / at hands of thy good thanes lies dead." 312 Luedegast was recovered / from all his wounds so sore, And eke the lord of Saxons / from fight was whole once more. Some amongst their warriors / left they dead behind. Then went forth King Gunther / where he Siegfried might find. 313 Unto the thane then spake he: / "Thy counsel give, I pray. The foes whom we hold captive / fain would leave straightway, And long for lasting friendship / with all my men and me. Now tell me, good Sir Siegfried, / what here seemeth good to thee. 314 "What the lords bid as ransom, / shall now to thee be told Whate'er five hundred horses / might bear of ruddy gold, They'd give to me right gladly, / would I but let them free." Then spake the noble Siegfried: / "That were to do right foolishly. 315 "Thou shalt let them freely / journey hence again; And that they both hereafter / shall evermore refrain From leading hostile army / against thee and thy land, Therefor in pledge of friendship / let each now give to thee the hand." 316 "Thy rede I'll gladly follow." / Straightway forth they went. To those who offered ransom / the answer then was sent, Their gold no one desired / which they would give before. The warriors battle-weary / dear friends did yearn to see once more. 317 Full many a shield all laden / with treasure forth they bore: He dealt it round unmeasured / to friends in goodly store; Each one had marks five hundred / and some had more, I ween. Therein King Gunther followed / the rede of Gernot, knight full keen. 318 Then was a great leave-taking, / as they departed thence. The warriors all 'fore Kriemhild / appeared in reverence, And eke there where her mother / Queen Ute sat near by. Gallant thanes were never / dismissed as these so graciously. 319 Bare were the lodging-places, / when away the strangers rode. Yet in right lordly manner / there at home abode The king with friends around him, / full noble men who were. And them now saw they daily / at court before Kriemhild appear. 320 Eke would the gallant hero / Siegfried thence depart, The thing to gain despairing / whereon was set his heart. The king was told the tidings / how that he would away. Giselher his brother / did win the knight with them to stay. 321 "Whither, O noble Siegfried, / wilt thou now from us ride? Do as I earnest pray thee, / and with these thanes abide, As guest here with King Gunther, / and live right merrily. Here dwell fair ladies many: / them will he gladly let thee see." 322 Then spake the doughty Siegfried: / "Our steeds leave yet at rest, The while from this my purpose / to part will I desist. Our shields once more take from us. / Though gladly home I would, Naught 'gainst the fond entreaties / of Giselher avail me could." 323 So stayed the knight full gallant / for sake of friendship there. In sooth in ne'er another / country anywhere Had he so gladly lingered: / iwis it was that he, Now whensoe'er he wished it, / Kriemhild the maiden fair could see. 324 'Twas her surpassing beauty / that made the knight to stay. With many a merry pastime / they whiled the time away; But love for her oppressed him, / oft-times grievously. Whereby anon the hero / a mournful death was doomed to die. SIXTH ADVENTURE How Gunther fared to Isenland to Brunhild 325 Tidings unknown to any / from over Rhine now come, How winsome maids a many / far yonder had their home. Whereof the royal Gunther / bethought him one to win, And o'er the thought the monarch / of full joyous mood was seen. 326 There was a queenly maiden / seated over sea, Like her nowhere another / was ever known to be. She was in beauty matchless, / full mickle was her might; Her love the prize of contest, / she hurled the shaft with valiant knight. 327 The stone she threw far distant, / wide sprang thereafter too. Who turned to her his fancy / with intent to woo, Three times perforce must vanquish / the lady of high degree; Failed he in but one trial, / forfeited his head had he. 328 This same the lusty princess / times untold had done. When to a warrior gallant / beside the Rhine 'twas known, He thought to take unto him / the noble maid for wife: Thereby must heroes many / since that moment lose their life. 329 Then spake of Rhine the master: / "I'll down unto the sea Unto Brunhild journey, / fare as 'twill with me. For her unmeasured beauty / I'll gladly risk my life, Ready eke to lose it, / if she may not be my wife." 330 "I counsel thee against it," / spake then Siegfried. "So terrible in contest / the queen is indeed, Who for her love is suitor / his zeal must dearly pay. So shalt thou from the journey / truly be content to stay." 331 "So will I give thee counsel," / outspake Hagen there, "That thou beg of Siegfried / with thee to bear The perils that await thee: / that is now my rede, To him is known so fully / what with Brunhild will be thy need." 332 He spake: "And wilt thou help me, / noble Siegfried, To win the lovely maiden? / Do what now I plead; And if in all her beauty / she be my wedded wife, To meet thy fullest wishes / honor will I pledge and life." 333 Thereto answered Siegfried, / the royal Siegmund's son: "Giv'st thou me thy sister, / so shall thy will be done, --Kriemhild the noble princess, / in beauty all before. For toils that I encounter / none other meed I ask thee more." 334 "That pledge I," spake then Gunther, / "Siegfried, in thy hand. And comes the lovely Brunhild / thither to this land, Thereunto thee my sister / for wife I'll truly give, That with the lovely maiden / thou may'st ever joyful live." 335 Oaths the knight full noble / upon the compact swore, Whereby to them came troubles / and dangers all the more, Ere they the royal lady / brought unto the Rhine. Still should the warriors valiant / in sorest need and sorrow pine. 336 With him carried Siegfried / that same mantle then, The which with mickle trouble / had won the hero keen From a dwarf in struggle, / Alberich by name. They dressed them for the journey, / the valiant thanes of lofty fame. 337 And when the doughty Siegfried / the sightless mantle wore, Had he within it / of strength as good a store As other men a dozen / in himself alone. The full stately princess / anon by cunning art he won. 338 Eke had that same mantle / such wondrous properties That any man whatever / might work whate'er he please When once he had it on him, / yet none could see or tell. 'Twas so that he won Brunhild; / whereby him evil since befell. 339 "Ere we begin our journey, / Siegfried, tell to me, That we with fullest honor / come unto the sea, Shall we lead warriors with us / down to Brunhild's land? Thanes a thirty thousand / straightway shall be called to hand." 340 "Men bring we ne'er so many," / answered Siegfried then. "So terrible in custom / ever is the queen, That all would death encounter / from her angry mood. I'll give thee better counsel, / thane in valor keen and good. 341 "Like as knights-errant journey / down the Rhine shall we. Those now will I name thee / who with us shall be; But four in all the company / seaward shall we fare: Thus shall we woo the lady, / what fortune later be our share. 342 "Myself one of the company, / a second thou shalt be, Hagen be the third one / --so fare we happily; The fourth let it be Dankwart, / warrior full keen. Never thousand others / dare in fight withstand us then." 343 "The tale I would know gladly," / the king then further said, "Ere we have parted thither / --of that were I full glad-- What should we of apparel, / that would befit us well, Wear in Brunhild's presence: / that shalt thou now to Gunther tell." 344 "Weeds the very finest / that ever might be found They wear in every season / in Brunhild's land: So shall we rich apparel / before the lady wear, That we have not dishonor / where men the tale hereafter hear." 345 Then spake he to the other: / "Myself will go unto My own loving mother, / if I from her may sue That her fair tendant maidens / help that we be arrayed As we may go in honor / before the high majestic maid." 346 Then spake of Tronje Hagen / with noble courtliness: "Why wilt thou of thy mother / beg such services? Only let thy sister / hear our mind and mood: So shall for this our journey / her good service be bestowed." 347 Then sent he to his sister / that he her would see, And with him also Siegfried. / Ere that such might be, Herself had there the fair one / in rich apparel clad. Sooth to tell, the visit / but little did displease the maid. 348 Then also were her women / decked as for them was meet. The princes both were coming: / she rose from off her seat, As doth a high-born lady / when that she did perceive, And went the guest full noble / and eke her brother to receive. 349 "Welcome be my brother / and his companion too. I'd know the story gladly," / spake the maiden so, "What ye now are seeking / that ye are come to me: I pray you straightway tell me / how 't with you valiants twain may be." 350 Then spake the royal Gunther: / "Lady, thou shall hear: Spite of lofty spirits / have we yet a care. To woo a maid we travel / afar to lands unknown; We should against the journey / have rich apparel for our own." 351 "Seat thee now, dear brother," / spake the princess fair; "Let me hear the story, / who the ladies are That ye will seek as suitors / in stranger princes' land." Both good knights the lady / took in greeting by the hand. 352 With the twain then went she / where she herself had sat, To couches rich and costly, / in sooth believe ye that, Wrought in design full cunning / of gold embroidery. And with these fair ladies / did pass the time right pleasantly. 353 Many tender glances / and looks full many a one Fondly knight and lady / each other cast upon. Within his heart he bore her, / she was as his own life. Anon the fairest Kriemhild / was the doughty Siegfried's wife. 354 Then spake the mighty monarch: / "Full loving sister mine, This may we ne'er accomplish / without help of thine. Unto Brunhild's country / as suitor now we fare: 'Tis fitting that 'fore ladies / we do rich apparel wear." 355 Then spake the royal maiden: / "Brother dear to me, In whatsoever manner / my help may given be, Of that I well assure you, / ready thereto am I. To Kriemhild 'twere a sorrow / if any should the same deny. 356 "Of me, O noble brother, / thou shalt not ask in vain: Command in courteous manner / and I will serve thee fain. Whatever be thy pleasure, / for that I'll lend my aid And willingly I'll do it," / spake the fair and winsome maid. 357 "It is our wish, dear sister, / apparel good to wear; That shall now directing / the royal hand prepare; And let thy maids see to it / that all is done aright, For we from this same journey / turn not aside for word of wight." 358 Spake thereupon the maiden: / "Now mark ye what I say: Myself have silks in plenty; / now send us rich supply Of stones borne on bucklers, / so vesture we'll prepare." To do it royal Gunther / and Siegfried both right ready were. 359 "And who are your companions," / further questioned she, "Who with you apparelled / now for court shall be?" "I it is and Siegfried, / and of my men are two, Dankwart and Hagen, / who with us to court shall go. 360 "Now rightly what we tell thee, / mark, O sister dear: 'Tis that we four companions / for four days may wear Thrice daily change of raiment / so wrought with skilful hand That we without dishonor / may take our leave of Brunhild's land." 361 After fair leave-taking / the knights departed so. Then of her attendants / thirty maids to go Forth from her apartments / Kriemhild the princess bade, Of those that greatest cunning / in such skilful working had. 362 The silks that were of Araby / white as the snow in sheen, And from the land of Zazamank / like unto grass so green, With stones of price they broidered; / that made apparel rare. Herself she cut them, Kriemhild / the royal maiden debonair. 363 Fur linings fashioned fairly / from dwellers in the sea Beheld by people rarely, / the best that e'er might be, With silken stuffs they covered / for the knights to wear. Now shall ye of the shining / weeds full many a wonder hear. 364 From land of far Morocco / and eke from Libya Of silks the very finest / that ever mortal saw With any monarch's kindred, / they had a goodly store. Well showed the Lady Kriemhild / that unto them good will she bore. 365 Since they unto the journey / had wished that so it be, Skins of costly ermine / used they lavishly, Whereon were silken pieces / black as coal inlaid. To-day were any nobles / in robes so fashioned well arrayed. 366 From the gold of Araby / many a stone there shone. The women long were busy / before the work was done; But all the robes were finished / ere seven weeks did pass, When also trusty armor / for the warriors ready was. 367 When they at length were ready / adown the Rhine to fare, A ship lay waiting for them / strong built with mickle care, Which should bear them safely / far down unto the sea. The maidens rich in beauty / plied their work laboriously. 368 Then 'twas told the warriors / for them was ready there The finely wrought apparel / that they were to wear; Just as they had wished it, / so it had been made; After that the heroes / there by the Rhine no longer stayed. 369 To the knights departing / went soon a messenger: Would they come in person / to view their new attire, If it had been fitted / short and long aright. 'Twas found of proper measure, / and thanked those ladies fair each knight. 370 And all who there beheld them / they must needs confess That in the world they never / had gazed on fairer dress: At court to wear th' apparel / did therefore please them well. Of warriors better furnished / never could a mortal tell. 371 Thanks oft-times repeated / were there not forgot. Leave of parting from them / the noble knights then sought: Like thanes of noble bearing / they went in courteous wise. Then dim and wet with weeping / grew thereat two shining eyes. 372 She spake: "O dearest brother, / still here thou mightest stay, And woo another woman-- / that were the better way-- Where so sore endangered / stood not thus thy life. Here nearer canst thou find thee / equally a high-born wife." 373 I ween their hearts did tell them / what later came to pass. They wept there all together, / whatever spoken was. The gold upon their bosoms / was sullied 'neath the tears That from their eyes in plenty / fell adown amid their fears. 374 She spake: "O noble Siegfried, / to thee commended be Upon thy truth and goodness / the brother dear to me, That he come unscathed / home from Brunhild's land." That plighted the full valiant / knight in Lady Kriemhild's hand. 375 The mighty thane gave answer: / "If I my life retain, Then shall thy cares, good Lady, / all have been in vain. All safe I'll bring him hither / again unto the Rhine, Be that to thee full sicker." / To him did the fair maid incline. 376 Their shields of golden color / were borne unto the strand, And all their trusty armor / was ready brought to hand. They bade their horses bring them: / they would at last depart. --Thereat did fairest women / weep with sad foreboding heart. 377 Down from lofty casement / looked many a winsome maid, As ship and sail together / by stirring breeze were swayed. Upon the Rhine they found them, / the warriors full of pride. Then outspake King Gunther: / "Who now is here the ship to guide?" 378 "That will I," spake Siegfried; / "I can upon the flood Lead you on in safety, / that know ye, heroes good; For all the water highways / are known right well to me." With joy they then departed / from the land of Burgundy. 379 A mighty pole then grasped he, / Siegfried the doughty man, And the ship from shore / forth to shove began. Gunther the fearless also / himself took oar in hand. The knights thus brave and worthy / took departure from the land. 380 They carried rich provisions, / thereto the best of wine That might in any quarter / be found about the Rhine. Their chargers stood in comfort / and rested by the way: The ship it moved so lightly / that naught of injury had they. 381 Stretched before the breezes / were the great sail-ropes tight, And twenty miles they journeyed / ere did come the night, By fair breezes favored / down toward the sea. Their toil repaid thereafter / the dauntless knights full grievously. 382 Upon the twelfth morning, / as we in story hear, Had they by the breezes / thence been carried far, Unto Castle Isenstein / and Brunhild's country: That to Siegfried only / was known of all the company. 383 As soon as saw King Gunther / so many towers rise And eke the boundless marches / stretch before his eyes, He spake: "Tell me, friend Siegfried, / is it known to thee Whose they are, the castles / and the majestic broad country?" 384 Thereto gave answer Siegfried: / "That well to me is known: Brunhild for their mistress / do land and people own And Isenstein's firm towers, / as ye have heard me say. Ladies fair a many / shall ye here behold to-day. 385 "And I will give you counsel: / be it well understood That all your words must tally / --so methinks 'twere good. If ere to-day is over / our presence she command, Must we leave pride behind us, / as before Brunhild we stand. 386 "When we the lovely lady / 'mid her retainers see, Then shall ye, good companions, / in all your speech agree That Gunther is my master / and I his serving-man: 'Tis thus that all he hopeth / shall we in the end attain." 387 To do as he had bidden / consented straight each one, And spite of proudest spirit / they left it not undone. All that he wished they promised, / and good it proved to be When anon King Gunther / the fair Brunhild came to see. 388 "Not all to meet thy wishes / do I such service swear, But most 'tis for thy sister, / Kriemhild the maiden fair; Just as my soul unto me / she is my very life, And fain would I deserve it / that she in truth become my wife." SEVENTH ADVENTURE How Gunther won Brunhild 389 The while they thus did parley / their ship did forward glide So near unto the castle / that soon the king espied Aloft within the casements / many a maiden fair to see. That all to him were strangers / thought King Gunther mournfully. 390 He asked then of Siegfried, / who bare him company: "Know'st thou aught of the maidens, / who the same may be, Gazing yonder downward / upon us on the tide? Howe'er is named their master, / minded are they high in pride." 391 Then spake the valiant Siegfried: / "Now thither shalt thou spy Unseen among the ladies, / then not to me deny Which, wert thou free in choosing, / thou'dst take to be thy queen." "That will I do," then answered / Gunther the valiant knight and keen. 392 "I see there one among them / by yonder casement stand, Clad in snow-white raiment: / 'tis she my eyes demand, So buxom she in stature, / so fair she is to see. An I were free in choosing, / she it is my wife must be." 393 "Full well now in choosing / thine eyes have guided thee: It is the stately Brunhild / the maiden fair to see, That doth now unto her / thy heart and soul compel." All the maiden's bearing / pleased the royal Gunther well. 394 But soon the queen commanded / from casement all to go Of those her beauteous maidens: / they should not stand there so To be gazed at by the strangers. / They must obey her word. What were the ladies doing, / of that moreover have we heard. 395 Unto the noble strangers / their beauty they would show, A thing which lovely women / are ever wont to do. Unto the narrow casements / came they crowding on, When they spied the strangers: / that they might also see, 'twas done. 396 But four the strangers numbered, / who came unto that land. Siegfried the doughty / the king's steed led in hand: They saw it from the casements, / many a lovely maid, And saw the willing service / unto royal Gunther paid. 397 Then held he by the bridle / for him his gallant steed, A good and fair-formed charger, / strong and of noble breed, Until the royal Gunther / into the saddle sprung. Thus did serve him Siegfried: / a service all forgot ere long. 398 Then his own steed he also / led forth upon the shore. Such menial service had he / full seldom done before, That he should hold the stirrup / for monarch whomsoe'er. Down gazing from the casements / beheld it ladies high and fair. 399 At every point according, / the heroes well bedight --Their dress and eke their chargers / of color snowy white-- Were like unto each other, / and well-wrought shield each one Of the good knights bore with him, / that brightly glimmered in the sun. 400 Jewelled well was saddle / and narrow martingale As they rode so stately / in front of Brunhild's Hall, And thereon bells were hanging / of red gold shining bright. So came they to that country, / as fitting was for men of might, 401 With spears all newly polished, / with swords, well-made that were And by the stately heroes / hung down unto the spur: Such bore the valiant riders / of broad and cutting blade. The noble show did witness / Brunhild the full stately maid. 402 With him came then Dankwart / and Hagen, doughty thane. The story further telleth / how that the heroes twain Of color black as raven / rich attire wore, And each a broad and mighty / shield of rich adornment bore. 403 Rich stones from India's country / every eye could see, Impending on their tunics, / sparkle full brilliantly. Their vessel by the river / they left without a guard, As thus the valiant heroes / rode undaunted castleward. 404 Six and fourscore towers / without they saw rise tall, Three spacious palaces / and moulded well a hall All wrought of precious marble / green as blade of grass, Wherein the royal Brunhild / with company of fair ladies was. 405 The castle doors unbolted / were flung open wide As out toward them / the men of Brunhild hied And received the strangers / into their Lady's land. Their steeds they bade take over, / and also shield from out the hand. 406 Then spake a man-in-waiting: / "Give o'er the sword each thane, And eke the shining armor."-- / "Good friend, thou ask'st in vain," Spake of Tronje Hagen; / "the same we'd rather wear." Then gan straightway Siegfried / the country's custom to declare. 407 "'Tis wont within this castle, / --of that be now aware-- That never any stranger / weapons here shall bear. Now let them hence be carried: / well dost thou as I say." In this did full unwilling / Hagen, Gunther's man, obey. 408 They bade the strangers welcome / with drink and fitting rest. Soon might you see on all sides / full many knights the best In princely weeds apparelled / to their reception go: Yet did they mickle gazing / who would the keen new-comers know. 409 Then unto Lady Brunhild / the tidings strange were brought How that unknown warriors / now her land had sought, In stately apparel / come sailing o'er the sea. The maiden fair and stately / gave question how the same might be. 410 "Now shall ye straight inform me," / spake she presently, "Who so unfamiliar / these warrior knights may be, That within my castle / thus so lordly stand, And for whose sake the heroes / have hither journeyed to my land." 411 Then spake to her a servant: / "Lady, I well can say Of them I've ne'er seen any / before this present day: Be it not that one among them / is like unto Siegfried. Him give a goodly welcome: / so is to thee my loyal rede. 412 "The next of the companions / he is a worthy knight: If that were in his power / he well were king of might O'er wide domains of princes, / the which might reach his hand. Now see him by the others / so right majestically stand. 413 "The third of the companions, / that he's a man of spleen, --Withal of fair-formed body, / know thou, stately Queen,-- Do tell his rapid glances / that dart so free from him. He is in all his thinking / a man, I ween, of mood full grim. 414 "The youngest one among them / he is a worthy knight: As modest as a maiden, / I see the thane of might Goodly in his bearing / standing so fair to see, We all might fear if any / affront to him should offered be. 415 "How blithe soe'er his manner, / how fair soe'er is he, Well could he cause of sorrow / to stately woman be, If he gan show his anger. / In him may well be seen He is in knightly virtues / a thane of valor bold and keen." 416 Then spake the queen in answer: / "Bring now my robes to hand. And is the mighty Siegfried / come unto this land, For love of me brought thither, / he pays it with his life. I fear him not so sorely / that I e'er become his wife." 417 So was fair Brunhild / straightway well arrayed. Then went with her thither / full many a beauteous maid, A hundred good or over, / bedight right merrily. The full beauteous maidens / would those stranger warriors see. 418 And with them went the warriors / there of Isenland, The knights attending Brunhild, / who bore sword in hand, Five hundred men or over. / Scarce heart the strangers kept As those knights brave and seemly / down from out the saddle leapt. 419 When the royal lady / Siegfried espied, Now mote ye willing listen / what there the maiden said. "Welcome be thou, Siegfried, / hither unto this land. What meaneth this thy journey, / gladly might I understand." 420 "Full mickle do I thank thee, / my Lady, high Brunhild, That thou art pleased to greet me, / noble Princess mild, Before this knight so noble, / who stands before me here: For he is my master, / whom first to honor fitting were. 421 "Born is he of Rhineland: / what need I say more? For thee 'tis highest favor / that we do hither fare. Thee will he gladly marry, / an bring that whatsoe'er. Betimes shalt thou bethink thee: / my master will thee never spare. 422 "For his name is Gunther / and he a mighty king. If he thy love hath won him, / more wants he not a thing. In sooth the king so noble / hath bade me hither fare: And gladly had I left it, / might I to thwart his wishes dare." 423 She spake: "Is he thy master / and thou his vassal art, Some games to him I offer, / and dare he there take part, And comes he forth the victor, / so am I then his wife: And be it I that conquer, / then shall ye forfeit each his life." 424 Then spake of Tronje Hagen: / "Lady, let us see Thy games so fraught with peril. / Before should yield to thee Gunther my master, / that well were something rare. He trows he yet is able / to win a maid so passing fair." 425 "Then shall ye try stone-putting / and follow up the cast, And the spear hurl with me. / Do ye naught here in haste. For well may ye pay forfeit / with honor eke and life: Bethink ye thus full calmly," / spake she whom Gunther would for wife. 426 Siegfried the valiant / stepped unto the king, And bade him speak out freely / his thoughts upon this thing Unto the queen so wayward, / he might have fearless heart. "For to well protect thee / from her do I know an art." 427 Then spake the royal Gunther: / "Now offer, stately Queen, What play soe'er thou mayest. / And harder had it been, Yet would I all have ventured / for all thy beauty's sake. My head I'll willing forfeit / or thyself my wife I'll make." 428 When therefore the Queen Brunhild / heard how the matter stood The play she begged to hasten, / as indeed she should. She bade her servants fetch her / therefor apparel trim, A mail-coat ruddy golden / and shield well wrought from boss to rim. 429 A battle-tunic silken / the maid upon her drew, That in ne'er a contest / weapon pierced through, Of skins from land of Libya, / and structure rare and fine; And brilliant bands embroidered / might you see upon it shine. 430 Meanwhile were the strangers / jibed with many a threat; Dankwart and Hagen, / their hearts began to beat. How here the king should prosper / were they of doubtful mood, Thinking, "This our journey / shall bring us wanderers naught of good." 431 The while did also Siegfried / the thane beyond compare, Before 'twas marked by any, / unto the ship repair, Where he found his sightless mantle[2] / that did hidden lie, And slipped into 't full deftly: / so was he veiled from every eye. [2] See strophe 97, note. 432 Thither back he hied him / and found great company About the queen who ordered / what the high play should be. There went he all in secret; / so cunningly 'twas done, Of all around were standing / perceived him never any one. 433 The ring it was appointed / wherein the play should be 'Fore many a keen warrior / who the same should see. More than seven hundred / were seen their weapons bear, That whoso were the victor / they might sure the same declare. 434 Thither was come Brunhild; / all armed she did stand Like as she were to combat / for many a royal land; Upon her silken tunic / were gold bars many a one, And glowing 'mid the armor / her flesh of winsome color shone. 435 Then followed her attendants / and with them thither brought At once a shield full stately, / of pure red gold 'twas wrought, With steel-hard bands for facings, / full mickle 'twas and broad, Wherewith in the contest / would guard herself the lovely maid. 436 To hold the shield securely / a well-wrought band there was, Whereon lay precious jewels / green as blade of grass. Full many a ray their lustre / shot round against the gold. He were a man full valiant / whom this high dame should worthy hold. 437 The shield was 'neath the boss-point, / as to us is said, Good three spans in thickness, / which should bear the maid. Of steel 'twas wrought so richly / and had of gold such share, That chamberlain and fellows / three the same scarce could bear. 438 When the doughty Hagen / the shield saw thither brought, Spake the knight of Tronje, / and savage was his thought: "Where art thou now, King Gunther? / Shall we thus lose our life! Whom here thou seekst for lover, / she is the very Devil's wife." 439 List more of her apparel; / she had a goodly store. Of silk of Azagang / a tunic made she wore, All bedight full richly; / amid its color shone Forth from the queen it covered, / full many a sparkling precious stone. 440 Then brought they for the lady, / large and heavy there, As she was wont to hurl it, / a sharply-pointed spear; Strong and massive was it, / huge and broad as well, And at both its edges / it cut with devastation fell. 441 To know the spear was heavy / list ye wonders more: Three spears of common measure / 'twould make, and something o'er. Of Brunhild's attendants / three scarce the same could bear. The heart of noble Gunther / thereat began to fill with fear. 442 Within his soul he thought him: / "What pickle am I in? Of hell the very Devil, / how might he save his skin? Might I at home in Burgundy / safe and living be, Should she for many a season / from proffered love of mine be free." 443 Then spake Hagen's brother / the valiant Dankwart: "In truth this royal journey / doth sorely grieve my heart. We passed for good knights one time: / what caitiff's death, if we Here in far-off country / a woman's game are doomed to be! 444 "It rueth me full sorely / that I came to this land. And had my brother Hagen / his good sword in hand, And had I mine to help him, / a bit more gently then, A little tame of spirit, / might show themselves all Brunhild's men. 445 "And know it of a certain / to lord it thus they'd cease; E'en though oaths a thousand / I'd sworn to keep the peace, Before that I'd see perish / my dear lord shamefully, Amid the souls departed / this fair maid herself should be." 446 "Well should we unhampered / quit at last this land," Spake his brother Hagen, / "did we in armor stand, Such as we need for battle, / and bore we broadswords good: 'Twould be a little softened, / this doughty lady's haughty mood." 447 Well heard the noble maiden / what the warriors spoke. Back athwart her shoulder / she sent a smiling look: "Now thinks he him so valiant, / so let them armed stand; Their full keen-edged broadswords / give the warriors each in hand." 448 When they their swords received, / as the maiden said, The full valiant Dankwart / with joy his face grew red. "Now play they what them pleaseth," / cried the warrior brave; "Gunther is yet a freeman, / since now in hand good swords we have." 449 The royal Brunhild's prowess / with terror was it shown. Into the ring they bore her / in sooth a ponderous stone, Great and all unwieldy, / huge it was and round: And scarce good knights a dozen / together raised it from the ground. 450 To put this was her custom / after trial with the spear. Thereat the men of Burgundy / began to quake with fear. "Alack! Alack!" quoth Hagen, / "what seeks the king for bride? Beneath in hell 'twere better / the Devil had her by his side!" 451 On her white arms the flowing / sleeves she backward flung, Then with grasp of power / the shield in hand she swung, And spear poised high above her. / So did the contest start. Gunther and Siegfried / saw Brunhild's ire with falling heart. 452 And were it not that Siegfried / a ready help did bring, Surely then had perished / beneath her hand the king. There went he unperceived / and the king's hand did touch. Gunther at his cunning / artifice was troubled much. 453 "What is that hath touched me?" / thought the monarch keen. Then gazed he all around him: / none was there to be seen. A voice spake: "Siegfried is it, / a friend that holds thee dear. Before this royal maiden / shall thy heart be free from fear. 454 "Thy shield in hand now give me / and leave it me to bear, And do thou rightly mark thee / what thou now shalt hear. Now make thyself the motions, / --the power leave to me." When he did know him rightly, / the monarch's heart was filled with glee. 455 "Now secret keep my cunning, / let none e'er know the same: Then shall the royal maiden / here find but little game Of glory to win from thee, / as most to her is dear. Behold now how the lady / stands before thee void of fear." 456 The spear the stately maiden / with might and main did wield, And huge and broad she hurled it / upon the new-made shield, That on his arm did carry / the son of Siegelind; From the steel the sparks flew hissing / as if were blowing fierce the wind. 457 The mighty spear sharp-pointed / full through the shield did crash, That ye from off the mail-rings / might see the lightning flash. Beneath its force they stumbled, / did both those men of might; But for the sightless mantle / they both were killed there outright. 458 From mouth of the full doughty / Siegfried burst the blood. Full soon he yet recovered; / then seized the warrior good The spear that from her strong arm / thus his shield had rent, And back with force as came it / the hand of doughty Siegfried sent. 459 He thought: "To pierce the maiden / were but small glory earned," And so the spear's sharp edges / backward pointing turned; Against her mail-clad body / he made the shaft to bound, And with such might he sent it / full loud her armor did resound. 460 The sparks as if in stormwind / from mail-rings flew around. So mightily did hurl it / the son of Siegmund That she with all her power / could not the shaft withstand. In sooth it ne'er was speeded / so swiftly by King Gunther's hand. 461 But to her feet full sudden / had sprung Brunhild fair. "A shot, O noble Gunther, / befitting hero rare." She weened himself had done it, / and all unaided he, Nor wot she one far mightier / was thither come so secretly. 462 Then did she go full sudden, / wrathful was her mood, A stone full high she heaved / the noble maiden good, And the same far from her / with might and main she swung: Her armor's mail-rings jingled / as she herself thereafter sprung. 463 The stone, when it had fallen, / lay fathoms twelve from there, And yet did spring beyond it / herself the maiden fair. Then where the stone was lying / thither Siegfried went: Gunther feigned to move it, / but by another arm 'twas sent. 464 A valiant man was Siegfried / full powerful and tall. The stone then cast he farther, / and farther sprang withal. From those his arts so cunning / had he of strength such store That as he leaped he likewise / the weight of royal Gunther bore. 465 And when the leap was ended / and fallen was the stone, Then saw they ne'er another / but Gunther alone. Brunhild the fair maiden, / red grew she in wrath: Siegfried yet had warded / from royal Gunther surest death. 466 Unto her attendants / she spake in loud command, When she saw 'cross the circle / the king unvanquished stand. "Come hither quick, my kinsmen, / and ye that wait on me; Henceforth unto Gunther / shall all be pledged faithfully." 467 Then laid the knights full valiant / their swords from out the hand; At feet 'fore mighty Gunther / from Burgundian land Offered himself in service / full many a valiant knight. They weened that he had conquered / in trial by his proper might. 468 He gave her loving greeting, / right courteous was he. Then by the hand she took him, / the maiden praiseworthy, In pledge that all around him / was his to have and hold. Whereat rejoiced Hagen / the warrior valorous and bold. 469 Into the spacious palace / with her thence to go Bade she the noble monarch. / When they had done so, Then still greater honors / unto the knight were shown. Dankwart and Hagen, / right willingly they saw it done. 470 Siegfried the valiant, / by no means was he slow, His sightless mantle did he / away in safety stow. Then went he again thither / where many a lady sat. He spake unto the monarch-- / full cunningly was done all that: 471 "Why bidest thus, my master? / Wilt not the play begin, To which so oft hath challenged / thee the noble queen? Let us soon have example / what may the trial be." As knew he naught about it, / did the knight thus cunningly. 472 Then spake the queen unto him: / "How hath this ever been, That of the play, Sir Siegfried, / nothing thou hast seen, Wherein hath been the victor / Gunther with mighty hand?" Thereto gave answer Hagen / a grim knight of Burgundian land. 473 Spake he: "There dost thou, Lady, / think ill without a cause: By the ship down yonder / the noble Siegfried was, The while the lord of Rhineland / in play did vanquish thee: Thus knows he nothing of it," / spake Gunther's warrior courteously. 474 "A joy to me these tidings," / the doughty Siegfried spoke, "That so thy haughty spirit / is brought beneath the yoke, And that yet one there liveth / master to be of thine. Now shalt thou, noble maiden, / us follow thither to the Rhine." 475 Then spake the maiden shapely: / "It may not yet be so. All my men and kindred / first the same must know. In sooth not all so lightly / can I quit my home. First must I bid my trusty / warriors that they hither come." 476 Then bade she messengers / quickly forth to ride, And summoned in her kindred / and men from every side. Without delay she prayed them / to come to Isenstein, And bade them all be given / fit apparel rare and fine. 477 Then might ye see daily / 'twixt morn and eventide Unto Brunhild's castle / many a knight to ride. "God wot, God wot," quoth Hagen, / "we do an evil thing, To tarry here while Brunhild / doth thus her men together bring. 478 "If now into this country / their good men they've brought --What thing the queen intendeth / thereof know we naught: Belike her wrath ariseth, / and we are men forlorn-- Then to be our ruin / were the noble maiden born." 479 Then spake the doughty Siegfried: / "That matter leave to me. Whereof thou now art fearful, / I'll never let it be. Ready help I'll bring thee / hither unto this land, Knights of whom thou wotst not / till now I'll bring, a chosen band. 480 "Of me shalt thou ask not: / from hence will I fare. May God of thy good honor / meanwhile have a care. I come again right quickly / with a thousand men for thee, The very best of warriors / hitherto are known to me." 481 "Then tarry not unduly," / thus the monarch said. "Glad we are full fairly / of this thy timely aid." He spake: "Till I come to thee / full short shall be my stay. That thou thyself hast sent me / shalt thou unto Brunhild say." EIGHTH ADVENTURE How Siegfried fared to his Knights, the Nibelungen 482 Thence went then Siegfried / out through the castle door In his sightless mantle / to a boat upon the shore. As Siegmund's son doth board it / him no mortal sees; And quickly off he steers it / as were it wafted by the breeze. 483 No one saw the boatman, / yet rapid was the flight Of the boat forth speeding / driven by Siegfried's might. They weened that did speed it / a swiftly blowing wind: No, 'twas Siegfried sped it, / the son of fairest Siegelind. 484 In that one day-time / and the following night Came he to a country / by dint of mickle might, Long miles a hundred distant, / and something more than this: The Nibelungen were its people / where the mighty hoard was his. 485 Alone did fare the hero / unto an island vast Whereon the boat full quickly / the gallant knight made fast. Of a castle then bethought him / high upon a hill, And there a lodging sought him, / as wayworn men are wont to still. 486 Then came he to the portals / that locked before him stood. They guarded well their honor / as people ever should. At the door he gan a-knocking, / for all unknown was he. But full well 'twas guarded, / and within it he did see 487 A giant who the castle / did guard with watchful eye, And near him did at all times / his good weapons lie. Quoth he: "Who now that knocketh / at the door in such strange wise?" Without the valiant Siegfried / did cunningly his voice disguise. 488 He spake: "A bold knight-errant / am I; unlock the gate. Else will I from without here / disturbance rare create For all who'd fain lie quiet / and their rest would take." Wrathful grew the Porter / as in this wise Siegfried spake. 489 Now did the giant valorous / his good armor don, And placed on head his helmet; / then the full doughty man His shield up-snatched quickly / and gate wide open swung. How sore was he enraged / as himself upon Siegfried he flung! 490 'How dared he thus awaken / brave knights within the hall?' The blows in rapid showers / from his hand did fall. Thereat the noble stranger / began himself to shield. For so a club of iron / the Porter's mighty arm did wield, 491 That splinters flew from buckler, / and Siegfried stood aghast From fear that this same hour / was doomed to be his last, So mightily the Porter's / blows about him fell. To find such faithful warder / did please his master Siegfried well. 492 So fiercely did they struggle / that castle far within And hall where slept the Nibelungen / echoed back the din. But Siegfried pressed the Porter / and soon he had him bound. In all the land of Nibelungen / the story soon was bruited round. 493 When the grim sound of fighting / afar the place had filled, Alberich did hear it, / a Dwarf full brave and wild. He donned his armor deftly, / and running thither found This so noble stranger / where he the doughty Porter bound. 494 Alberich was full wrathy, / thereto a man of power. Coat of mail and helmet / he on his body wore, And in his hand a heavy / scourge of gold he swung. Where was fighting Siegfried, / thither in mickle haste he sprung. 495 Seven knobs thick and heavy / on the club's end were seen, Wherewith the shield that guarded / the knight that was so keen He battered with such vigor / that pieces from it brake. Lest he his life should forfeit / the noble stranger gan to quake. 496 The shield that all was battered / from his hand he flung; And into sheath, too, thrust he / his sword so good and long. For his trusty chamberlain / he did not wish to slay, And in such case he could not / grant his anger fullest sway. 497 With but his hands so mighty / at Alberich he ran. By the beard then seized he / the gray and aged man, And in such manner pulled it / that he full loud did roar. The youthful hero's conduct / Alberich did trouble sore. 498 Loud cried the valiant steward: / "Have mercy now on me. And might I other's vassal / than one good hero's be, To whom to be good subject / I an oath did take, Until my death I'd serve thee." / Thus the man of cunning spake. 499 Alberich then bound he / as the giant before. The mighty arm of Siegfried / did trouble him full sore. The Dwarf began to question: / "Thy name, what may it be?" Quoth he: "My name is Siegfried; / I weened I well were known to thee." 500 "I joy to hear such tidings," / Dwarf Alberich replied. "Well now have I found thee / in knightly prowess tried, And with goodly reason / lord o'er lands to be. I'll do whate'er thou biddest, / wilt thou only give me free." 501 Then spake his master Siegfried: / "Quickly shalt thou go, And bring me knights hither, / the best we have to show, A thousand Nibelungen, / to stand before their lord." Wherefore thus he wished it, / spake he never yet a word. 502 The giant and Alberich / straightway he unbound. Then ran Alberich quickly / where the knights he found. The warriors of Nibelung / he wakened full of fear. Quoth he: "Be up, ye heroes, / before Siegfried shall ye appear." 503 From their couches sprang they / and ready were full soon, Clothed well in armor / a thousand warriors boon, And went where they found standing / Siegfried their lord. Then was a mickle greeting / courteously in act and word. 504 Candles many were lighted, / and sparkling wine he drank. That they came so quickly, / therefor he all did thank. Quoth he: "Now shall ye with me / from hence across the flood." Thereto he found full ready / the heroes valiant and good. 505 Good thirty hundred warriors / soon had hither pressed, From whom were then a thousand / taken of the best. For them were brought their helmets / and what they else did need. For unto Brunhild's country / would he straightway the warriors lead. 506 He spake: "Ye goodly nobles, / that would I have you hear, In full costly raiment / shall ye at court appear, For yonder must there see us / full many a fair lady. Therefore shall your bodies / dight in good apparel be." 507 Upon a morning early / went they on their way. What host of brave companions / bore Siegfried company! Good steeds took they with them / and garments rich to wear, And did in courtly fashion / unto Brunhild's country fare. 508 As gazed from lofty parapet / women fair to see, Spake the queen unto them: / "Knows any who they be, Whom I see yonder sailing / upon the sea afar? Rich sails their ships do carry, / whiter than snow they are." 509 Then spake the king of Rhineland: / "My good men they are, That on my journey hither / left I lying near. I've sent to call them to me: / now are they come, O Queen." With full great amazing / were the stately strangers seen. 510 There saw they Siegfried / out on the ship's prow stand Clad in costly raiment, / and with him his good band. Then spake Queen Brunhild: / "Good monarch, let me know, Shall I go forth to greet them, / or shall I greetings high forego?" 511 He spake: "Thou shalt to meet them / before the palace go, So that we see them gladly / they may surely know." Then did the royal lady / fulfil the king's behest. Yet Siegfried in the greeting / was not honored with the rest. 512 Lodgings were made ready / and their armor ta'en in hand. Then was such host of strangers / come into that land, On all sides they jostled / from the great company. Then would the knights full valiant / homeward fare to Burgundy. 513 Then spake Queen Brunhild: / "In favor would I hold Who might now apportion / my silver and my gold To my guests and the monarch's, / for goodly store I have." Thereto an answer Dankwart, / Giselher's good warrior, gave: 514 "Full noble royal Lady, / give me the keys to hold. I trow I'll so divide it," / spake the warrior bold, "If blame there be about it, / that shall be mine alone." That he was not a niggard, / beyond a doubt he soon had shown. 515 When now Hagen's brother / the treasure did command, So many a lavish bounty / dealt out the hero's hand, Whoso mark did covet, / to him was given such store That all who once were poor men / might joyous live for evermore. 516 In sooth good pounds a hundred / gave he to each and all. A host in costly raiment / were seen before the hall, Who in equal splendor / ne'er before were clad. When the queen did hear it, / verily her heart was sad. 517 Then spake the royal lady: / "Good King, it little needs, That now thy chamberlain / of all my stately weeds Leave no whit remaining, / and squander clean my gold. Would any yet prevent it, / him would I aye in favor hold. 518 "He deals with hand so lavish, / in sooth doth ween the thane That death I've hither summoned; / but longer I'll remain. Eke trow I well to spend all / my sire hath left to me." Ne'er found queen a chamberlain / of such passing generosity. 519 Then spake of Tronje Hagen: / "Lady, be thou told, That the king of Rhineland / raiment hath and gold So plenteous to lavish / that we may well forego To carry with us homeward / aught that Brunhild can bestow." 520 "No; as high ye hold me," / spake the queen again, "Let me now have filled / coffers twice times ten Of gold and silken raiment, / that may deal out my hand, When that we come over / into royal Gunther's land." 521 Then with precious jewels / the coffers they filled for her. The while her own chamberlain / must be standing near: For no whit would she trust it / unto Giselher's man. Whereat Gunther and Hagen / heartily to laugh began. 522 Then spake the royal lady: / "To whom leave I my lands? First must they now be given / in charge from out our hands." Then spake the noble monarch: / "Whomsoe'er it pleaseth thee, Bid him now come hither, / the same we'll let our Warden be." 523 One of her highest kindred / near by the lady spied, --He was her mother's brother-- / to him thus spake the maid: "Now be to thee entrusted / the castles and eke the land, Until that here shall govern / Gunther the king by his own hand." 524 Trusty knights two thousand / from her company Chose she to journey with her / unto Burgundy, Beyond those thousand warriors / from Nibelungenland. They made ready for the journey, / and downward rode unto the strand. 525 Six and eighty ladies / led they thence with her, Thereto good hundred maidens / that full beauteous were. They tarried no whit longer, / for they to part were fain. Of those they left behind them, / O how they all to weep began! 526 In high befitting fashion / quitted she her land: She kissed of nearest kindred / all who round did stand. After fair leave-taking / they went upon the sea. Back to her father's country / came never more that fair lady. 527 Then heard you on the journey / many a kind of play: Every pleasant pastime / in plenty had they. Soon had they for their journey / a wind from proper art: So with full great rejoicing / did they from that land depart. 528 Yet would she on the journey / not be the monarch's spouse: But was their pleasant pastime / reserved for his own house At Worms within his castle / at a high festival, Whither anon full joyous / came they with their warriors all. NINTH ADVENTURE How Siegfried was sent to Worms 529 When that they had journeyed / full nine days on their way, Then spake of Tronje Hagen: / "Now hear what I shall say. We tarry with the tidings / for Worms upon the Rhine. At Burgundy already / should now be messengers of thine." 530 Then outspake King Gunther: / "There hast thou spoken true. And this selfsame journey, / none were so fit thereto As thyself, friend Hagen. / So do thou now ride on. This our high court journey, / none else can better make it known." 531 Thereto answered Hagen: / "Poor messenger am I. Let me be treasure-warden. / Upon the ships I'll stay Near by the women rather, / their guardian to be, Till that we bring them safely / into the land of Burgundy. 532 "Now do thou pray Siegfried / that he the message bear, For he's a knight most fitting / this thing to have in care. If he decline the journey, / then shalt thou courteously, For kindness to thy sister, / pray that he not unwilling be." 533 He sent for the good warrior / who came at his command. He spake: "Since we are nearing / home in my own land, So should I send a message / to sister dear of mine And eke unto my mother, / that we are nigh unto the Rhine. 534 "Thereto I pray thee, Siegfried, / now meet my wish aright," Spake the noble monarch: / "I'll ever thee requite." But Siegfried still refused it, / the full valiant man, Till that King Gunther / sorely to beseech began. 535 He spake: "Now bear the message, / in favor unto me And eke unto Kriemhild / a maiden fair to see, That the stately maiden / help me thy service pay." When had heard it Siegfried, / ready was the knight straightway. 536 "Now what thou wilt, command me: / 'twill not be long delayed. This thing will I do gladly / for sake of that fair maid. Why should I aught refuse her, / who all my heart hath won? What thou for her commandest, / whate'er it be 'twill all be done." 537 "Then say unto my mother, / Ute the queen, That we on our journey / in joyous mood have been. Let know likewise my brothers / what fortune us befell. Eke unto all our kinsmen / shalt thou then merry tidings tell. 538 "Unto my fair sister / shalt thou all confide. From me bring her fair compliment / and from Brunhild beside, And eke unto our household / and all my warriors brave. What my heart e'er did strive for, / how well accomplished it I have! 539 "And say as well to Ortwein / nephew dear of mine That he do bid make ready / at Worms beside the Rhine. And all my other kindred, / to them made known shall be, With Brunhild I am minded / to keep a great festivity. 540 "And say unto my sister, / when that she hath learned That I am to my country / with many a guest returned, She shall have care to welcome / my bride in fitting way. So all my thoughts of Kriemhild / will be her service to repay." 541 Then did Sir Siegfried / straightway in parting greet High the Lady Brunhild, / as 'twas very meet, And all her company; / then toward the Rhine rode he. Nor in this world a better / messenger might ever be. 542 With four and twenty warriors / to Worms did he ride. When soon it was reported / the king came not beside, Then did all the household / of direst news have dread: They feared their royal master / were left in distant country dead. 543 Then sprang they from the saddle, / full high they were of mood. Full soon before them Giselher / the prince so youthful stood, And Gernot his brother. / How quickly then spake he, When he the royal Gunther / saw not in Siegfried's company: 544 "Be thou welcome, Siegfried. / Yet shalt thou tell to me, Why the king my brother / cometh not with thee. Brunhild's prowess is it / hath taken him, I ween; And so this lofty wooing / hath naught but our misfortune been." 545 "Now cease such ill foreboding. / To you and friends hath sent My royal companion / his good compliment. Safe and sound I left him; / myself did he command That I should be his herald / with tidings hither to your land. 546 "Quickly shall ye see to it, / how that it may be, That I the queen and likewise / your fair sister see. From Gunther and Brunhild / the message will I tell That hath now been sent them: / the twain do find them passing well." 547 Then spake the youthful Giselher: / "So shalt thou go to her: Here dost thou on my sister / a favor high confer. In sooth she's mickle anxious / how't with my brother be. The maid doth see thee gladly, / --of that will I be surety." 548 Then outspake Sir Siegfried: / "If serve her aught I can, That same thing most willing / in truth it shall be done. Who now will tell the ladies / I would with them confer?" Then was therein Giselher / the stately knight his messenger. 549 Giselher the valiant / unto his mother kind And sister spake the tidings / when he the twain did find: "To us returned is Siegfried, / the hero of Netherlands Unto the Rhine he cometh / at my brother Gunther's command. 550 "He bringeth us the tidings / how't with the king doth fare. Now shall ye give permission / that he 'fore you appear. He'll tell the proper tidings / from Isenland o'er the main." Yet mickle sad forebodings / did trouble still the ladies twain. 551 They sprang for their attire / and donned it nothing slow. Then bade they that Siegfried / to court should thither go. That did he right willing / for he gladly them did see. Kriemhild the noble maiden / spake to him thus graciously. 552 "Welcome be, Sir Siegfried, / thou knight right praiseworthy. Yet where may King Gunther / my noble brother be? It is through Brunhild's prowess, / I ween, he is forlorn. Alack of me, poor maiden, / that I into this world was born!" 553 The valiant knight then answered: / "Give me news-bringer's meed Know ye, fairest ladies, / ye weep without a need. I left him well and happy, / that would I have you know; They two have sent me hither / to bear the tidings unto you. 554 "And offer thee good service / both his bride and he, My full noble lady, / in love and loyalty. Now give over weeping, / for straight will they be here." They had for many a season / heard not a tale to them so dear. 555 With fold of snow-white garment / then her eyes so bright Dried she after weeping. / She gan thank the knight Who of these glad tidings / had been the messenger. Then was a mickle sorrow / and cause of weeping ta'en from her. 556 She bade the knight be seated, / which he did willingly. Then spake the lovely maiden: / "It were a joy to me, Could I the message-bringer / with gold of mine repay. Thereto art thou too high-born; / I'll serve thee then in other way." 557 "If I alone were ruler," / spake he, "o'er thirty lands, Yet gifts I'd take right gladly, / came they from thy fair hands." Then spake the virtuous maiden: / "In truth it shall be so." Then bade she her chamberlain / forth for message-money go. 558 Four and twenty armlets / with stones of precious kind, These gave she him for guerdon. / 'Twas not the hero's mind, That he himself should keep them: / he dealt them all around Unto her fair attendants / whom he within the chamber found. 559 Of service, too, her mother / did kindly offer make. "Then have I more to tell you," / the keen warrior spake: "Of what the king doth beg you, / when comes he to the Rhine. Wilt thou perform it, lady, / then will he e'er to thee incline. 560 "The noble guests he bringeth, / --this heard I him request, That ye shall well receive them; / and furthermore his hest, That ye ride forth to meet him / 'fore Worms upon the strand. So have ye from the monarch / faithfully his high command." 561 Then spake the lovely maiden: / "Full ready there am I. If I in aught can serve him, / I'll never that deny. In all good faith and kindness / shall it e'er be done." Then deeper grew her color / that from increase of joy she won. 562 Never was royal message / better received before. The lady sheer had kissed him, / if 'twere a thing to dare. From those high ladies took he / his leave in courteous wise. Then did they there in Burgundy / in way as Siegfried did advise. 563 Sindold and Hunold / and Rumold the thane In truth were nothing idle, / but wrought with might and main To raise the sitting-places / 'fore Worms upon the strand. There did the royal Steward / busy 'mid the workers stand. 564 Ortwein and Gere / thought longer not to bide, But sent unto their kinsmen / forth on every side. They told of festive meeting / there that was to be; And deck themselves to meet them / did the maidens fair to see. 565 The walls throughout the palace / were dight full richly all, Looking unto the strangers; / and King Gunther's hall Full well with seats and tables / for many a noble guest. And great was the rejoicing / in prospect of the mighty feast. 566 Then rode from every quarter / hither through the land The three monarchs' kinsmen, / who there were called to hand, That they might be in waiting / for those expected there. Then from enfolding covers / took they store of raiments rare. 567 Some watchers brought the tidings / that Brunhild's followers were Seen coming riding hither. / Then rose a mickle stir Among the folk so many / in the land of Burgundy. Heigh-ho! What valiant warriors / alike on both parts might you see! 568 Then spake the fair Kriemhild: / "Of my good maidens, ye Who at this reception / shall bear me company, From out the chests now seek ye / attire the very best. So shall praise and honor / be ours from many a noble guest." 569 Then came the knights also / and bade bring forth to view The saddles richly furnished / of ruddy golden hue, That ladies fair should ride on / at Worms unto the Rhine. Better horse-equipment / could never artisan design. 570 Heigh-ho! What gold all glancing / from the steeds there shone! Sparkled from their bridles / full many a precious stone. Gold-wrought stools for mounting / and shining carpets good Brought they for the ladies: / joyous were they all of mood. 571 Within the court the heroes / bedight with trappings due Awaited noble maidens, / as I have told to you. A narrow band from saddle / went round each horse's breast, Its beauty none could tell you: / of silk it was the very best. 572 Six and eighty ladies / came in manner meet Wearing each a wimple. / Kriemhild there to greet They went, all fair to look on, / in shining garments clad. Then came eke well apparelled / full many a fair and stately maid. 573 Four and fifty were they / of the land of Burgundy, And they were eke the noblest / that ever you might see. Adorned with shining hair-bands / the fair-haired maids came on. What now the king desired, / that most carefully was done. 574 Made of stuffs all costly, / the best you might desire, Before the gallant strangers / wore they such rich attire As well did fit the beauty / of many amid the throng. He sure had lost his senses, / who could have wished them any wrong. 575 Of sable and of ermine / many a dress was worn. Arms and hands a many / did they full well adorn With rings o'er silken dresses / that there did clothe them well. Of all the ready-making / none might ever fully tell. 576 Full many a well-wrought girdle / in long and costly braid About the shining garments / by many a hand was laid On dress of precious ferrandine / of silk from Araby. And full of high rejoicing / were those maids of high degree. 577 With clasps before her bosom / was many a fair maid Laced full beauteously. / She might well be sad, Whose full beaming color / vied not with weeds she wore. Such a stately company / ne'er possessed a queen before. 578 When now the lovely maidens / attired you might see, Soon were those beside them / should bear them company, Of warriors high-hearted / a full mickle band. And with their shields they carried / full many an ashen shaft in hand. TENTH ADVENTURE How Brunhild was received at Worms 579 On yonder side Rhine river / they saw a stately band, The king and host of strangers, / ride down unto the strand, And also many a lady / sitting on charger led. By those who should receive them / was goodly preparation made. 580 Soon they of Isenland / the ship had entered then, And with them Siegfried's vassals / the Nibelungen men; They strained unto the shore / with untiring hand When they beheld the monarch's / friends upon the farther strand. 581 Now list ye eke the story / of the stately queen, Ute, how at her bidding / ladies fair were seen Forth coming from the castle / to ride her company. Then came to know each other / full many a knight and fair lady. 582 The Margrave Gere / but to the castle gate The bridle held for Kriemhild; / the keen Siegfried did wait Thenceforward upon her. / She was a beauteous maid. Well was the knight's good service / by the lady since repaid. 583 Ortwein the valiant / Queen Ute rode beside, And many a knight full gallant / was stately lady's guide. At such a high reception, / that may we say, I ween, Was ne'er such host of ladies / in company together seen. 584 With show of rider's talent / the tilt was carried on, For might the knights full gallant / naught fitting leave undone, As passed down to the river / Kriemhild the lady bright. Then helped was many a lady / fair from charger to alight. 585 The king had then come over / and many a stranger too. Heigh-ho! What strong shafts splintered / before the ladies flew! Many a shaft go crashing / heard you there on shield. Heigh-ho! What din of costly / arms resounded o'er the field. 586 The full lovely maidens / upon the shore did stand, As Gunther with the strangers / stepped upon the land; He himself did Brunhild / by the hand lead on. Then sparkled towards each other / rich dress and many a shining stone. 587 Then went Lady Kriemhild / with fullest courtesy due, To greet the Lady Brunhild / and her retinue. And saw ye each the head-band / with fair hand move aside When they kissed each other: / high courtesy did the ladies guide. 588 Then spake the maiden Kriemhild, / a high-born lady she: "Unto this our country / shalt thou right welcome be, To me and to my mother / and each true friend of mine, That we here have with us." / Then each did unto each incline. 589 Within their arms the ladies / oft-times clasped each other. Like this fond reception / heard ye of ne'er another, As when both the ladies / there the bride did greet, Queen Ute and her daughter; / oft-times they kissed her lips so sweet. 590 When all of Brunhild's ladies / were come upon the strand, Then was there taken / full fondly by the hand By the warriors stately / many a fair lady. Before the Lady Brunhild / the train of fair maids might ye see. 591 Before their greetings ended / a mickle time was gone, For lips of rosy color / were kissed there, many a one. Long stood they together, / the royal ladies high, And so to look upon them / pleased many a noble warrior's eye. 592 Then spied with probing eye, too, / who before did hear That till then was never / aught beheld so fair, As those two royal ladies: / they found it was no lie. In all their person might ye / no manner of deceit espy. 593 Who there could spy fair ladies / and judge of beauty rare, They praised the wife of Gunther / that she was passing fair; Yet spake again the wise men / who looked with keener gaze, They rather would to Kriemhild / before Brunhild award the praise. 594 Then went unto each other / maid and fair lady. Full many a fair one might ye / in rich adornment see. There stood rich tents a many, / silken great and small, Wherewith in every quarter / 'fore Worms the field was covered all. 595 Of the king's high kindred / a mighty press there was. Then bade they Brunhild / and Kriemhild on to pass, And with them all the ladies, / where they in shade might be. Thither did bring them warriors / of the land of Burgundy. 596 When now the strangers also / on horse sat every one, Plenteous knightly tilting / at shield was there begun. Above the field rose dust-clouds, / as had the country been All in flames a-burning; / who bore the honors there was seen. 597 Looked on full many a maiden / as the knights did sport them so. Meseemeth that Sir Siegfried / full many a to-and-fro Did ride with his good followers / along 'fore many a tent. With him of Nibelungen / a thousand stately men there went. 598 Then came of Tronje Hagen, / whom the king did send; He bade in pleasing manner / the tourney have an end, Before in dust be buried / all the ladies fair. And ready to obey him / soon the courteous strangers were. 599 Then spake Sir Gernot: / "Now let the chargers stand, Until the air is cooler, / for we must be at hand As escort for fair ladies / unto the stately hall; And will the king take saddle, / so let him find you ready all." 600 When now the sound of tourney / o'er all the field was spent, Then went for pleasant pastime / 'neath many a lofty tent The knights unto the ladies, / and willing thither hied. And there they passed the hours / till such time as they thence should ride. 601 Just before the evening / when the sun was in the west, And the air grew cooler, / no longer did they rest, But both knights and ladies / unto the castle passed. And eyes in loving glances / on many a beauteous maid were cast. 602 By hand of goodly warrior / many a coat was rent, For in the country's custom / they tourneyed as they went, Until before the palace / the monarch did dismount. They tended fairest ladies / as knights high-spirited are wont. 603 After fairest greeting / the queens did part again. Dame Ute and her daughter, / thither passed the twain With train of fair attendants / unto a hall full wide. Din of merrymaking / heard ye there on every side. 604 Arranged were sitting-places / where the king would be With his guests at table. / By him might ye see Standing the fair Brunhild. / She wore a royal crown In the monarch's country, / the which might well such mistress own. 605 Seats for all the people / at many a spacious board There were, as saith the story, / where victuals rich were stored. How little there was lacking / of all that makes a feast! And by the monarch saw ye / sitting many a stately guest. 606 The royal host's attendants / in basins golden red Carried water forward. / And should it e'er be said By any that a better / service did receive Ever guests of monarch, / I never could such thing believe. 607 Before the lord of Rhineland / with water was waited on, Unto him Sir Siegfried, / as fitting was, had gone; He called to mind a promise / that made by him had been Ere that the Lady Brunhild / afar in Isenland he'd seen. 608 He spake: "Thou shalt bethink thee / what once did plight thy hand, If that the Lady Brunhild / should come unto this land, Thou'dst give to me thy sister. / Where now what thou hast sworn? In this thy wooing journey / not small the labor I have borne." 609 Then to his guest the monarch: / "Well hast thou minded me, And by this hand shall never / false word plighted be. To gain thy wish I'd help thee / in the way as best I know." Bidden then was Kriemhild / forth unto the king to go. 610 With her full beauteous maidens / unto the Hall she passed. Then sprang the youthful Giselher / adown the steps in haste "Bid now these many maidens / wend their way again; None but my sister only / unto the king shall enter in." 611 Then led they Kriemhild thither / where the king was found, With him were knights full noble / from many a land around. Within that Hall so spacious / she waited the king's behest, What time the Lady Brunhild / betook her likewise to the feast. 612 Then spake the royal Gunther: / "Sister mine full fair, Redeem the word I've given, / an hold'st thou virtue dear. Thee to a knight I plighted: / An tak'st thou him to man, Thereby my wish full truly / unto the warrior hast thou done." 613 Then spake the noble maiden: / "Brother full dear to me, Not long shalt thou entreat me. / In truth I'll ever be Obedient to thy bidding; / that shall now be done, And him I'll take full gladly, / my Lord, whom thou giv'st me for man." 614 Before those fair eyes' glances / grew Siegfried's color red. The knight to Lady Kriemhild / his service offered. Within a ring together / then were led the twain, And they asked the maiden, / if she to take the knight were fain. 615 Upon her face not little / was the modest glow; Nathless to joy of Siegfried / did fortune will it so, That the maiden would not / refuse the knight her hand. Eke swore his wife to make her / the noble king of Netherland. 616 When he to her had plighted, / and eke to him the maid, Siegfried to embrace her / nothing more delayed, But clasped in arms full fondly / and oft the lady fair, And stately knights were witness / how that he kissed the princess there. 617 When that the maids attendant / from thence had ta'en their leave, In place of honor seated / Siegfried might ye perceive And by him fairest Kriemhild; / and many a knight at hand Was seen of the Nibelungen / at Siegfried's service ready stand. 618 There too was Gunther seated / and with him Queen Brunhild. At sight of Kriemhild sitting / by Siegfried was she filled With anger such as never / before her heart did swell: She wept, and tears in plenty / adown her shining face there fell. 619 Then spake who ruled the country: / "What aileth, lady mine, That so thou let'st be dimmed / thine eyes that brightly shine? Be straight of joyous spirit, / for now at thy command My land and my good castles / and host of stately warriors stand." 620 "Good cause to me for weeping," / spake the lady fair. "For sake of this thy sister / sorrow now I bear, Whom here behold I seated / by one that serveth thee. That must forever grieve me, / shall she thus dishonored be." 621 Then answered her King Gunther: / "But for the nonce be still. At other time more fitting / the thing to thee I'll tell, Wherefore thus my sister / to Siegfried I did give. And truly with the hero / may she ever joyous live." 622 She spake: "Her name and beauty / thus lost it grieveth me. An knew I only whither, / from hence I'd surely flee, This night nor e'er hereafter / to share thy royal bed, Say'st thou not truly wherefore / Kriemhild thus hath Siegfried wed." 623 Then spake the noble monarch: / "Then unto thee be known That he as stately castles, / lands wide as I, doth own. And know thou that full surely / a mighty monarch he; Wherefore the fairest maiden / I grant him thus his wife to be." 624 Whate'er the king did tell her, / sad was she yet of mood. Then hastened from the tables / full many a warrior good, And jousted that the castle / walls gave back the din. Amid his guests the monarch / waiting longingly was seen. 625 He deemed 'twere better lying / beside his fair lady. Of thinking on that plaisance / his mind he could not free, And what her love would bring him / before the night be past; He many a glance full tender / upon the Lady Brunhild cast. 626 The guests they bade give over / in joust who combated, For that with spouse new-wedded / the monarch would to bed. Leaving then the banquet, / there together met Kriemhild and Brunhild: / their bitter hate was silent yet. 627 At hand were their attendants; / they longer tarried not, And chamberlains full lordly / lights for them had brought. Then parted eke the followers / of the monarchs twain, And bearing Siegfried company / went full many a worthy thane. 628 The lords were both come thither / where that they should lie. As each one bethought him / of loving victory To win o'er winsome lady, / merry he grew of mood. The noble Siegfried's pastime / it was beyond all measure good. 629 As there Sir Siegfried / by fair Kriemhild lay And to the maid devoted / himself in such fond way As noble knight beseemeth, / they twain to him were one, And not a thousand others / had he then ta'en for her alone. 630 I'll tell you now no further / how he the lady plied, But list ye first the story / what Gunther did betide By Lady Brunhild lying. / In sooth the noble thane By side of other ladies / a deal more happily had lain. 631 Withdrawn were now attendants, / man and also maid; Not long to lock the chamber / within the king delayed. He weened to have good pleasure / of that fair lady, Yet was the time still distant / when that she his wife should be. 632 In gown of whitest linen / unto the bed she passed. Then thought the knight full noble: / "Now have I here at last All that I e'er desired / as long as I can tell." Perforce her stately beauty / did please the monarch passing well. 633 That they should shine more dimly / he placed the lights aside, Then where did lie the lady / the thane full eager hied. He placed himself a-nigh her, / his joy right great it was, As in his arms the monarch / the winsome maid did there embrace. 634 A loving plaisance had he / with vigor there begun If that the noble lady / had let the same be done. She then did rage so sorely / that grieved was he thereat; He weened to find who loved him, / --instead he found him naught but hate. 635 Spake she: "Good knight and noble, / from this thing give o'er. That which thou here hast hope of, / it may be nevermore. A maid I still will keep me / --well mayest thou know that-- Until I learn that story." / Gunther wrathy grew thereat. 636 Her gown he wrought to ruin / to win her maidenhead. Whereat did seize a girdle / the full stately maid, A strong and silken girdle / that round her sides she wore, And with the same the monarch / she soon had brought to pains full sore. 637 His feet and his hands also, / together bound she all, Unto a nail she bore him / and hung him on the wall. Him who disturbed her sleeping / in his love she sorely let, And from her mighty prowess, / he full nigh his death had met. 638 Then gan he to entreat her, / who master late had been. "From these my bonds now loose me, / my full noble queen. Nor trow I e'er, fair lady, / victor o'er thee to be, And henceforth will I seldom / seek to lie thus nigh to thee." 639 She recked not how 'twere with him, / as she full softly lay. There hung he, will he nill he, / the night through unto day, Until the light of morning / through the windows shone. Could he e'er boast of prowess, / small now the measure he did own. 640 "Now tell me, lordly Gunther, / wert thou thereat so sad, If that in bonds should find thee" / --spake the fairest maid-- "Thy royal men-in-waiting, / bound by lady's hand?" Then spake the knight full noble: / "Thou should'st in case most evil stand. 641 "Eke had I little honor / therefrom," continued he. "For all thy royal honor / let me then go to thee. Since that my fond embracements / do anger thee so sore, With these my hands I pledge thee / to touch thy garment nevermore." 642 Then she loosed him straightway / and he once more stood free. To the bed he went as erstwhile / where rested his lady. But far from her he laid him / and well he now forebore To stir the lady's anger / by touching e'en the gown she wore. 643 At length came their attendants / who garments fresh did bring, Whereof was ready for them / good store on that morning. Yet merry as his folk were, / a visage sad did own The lord of that proud country, / for all he wore that day a crown. 644 As was the country's custom, / a thing folk do of right, Gunther and Brunhild / presently were dight To go unto the minster / where the mass was sung. Thither eke came Siegfried, / and in their trains a mighty throng. 645 As fitted royal honor / for them was thither brought The crown that each should carry / and garments richly wrought. There were they consecrated; / and when the same was done, Saw ye the four together / happy stand and wearing crown. 646 There was knighted many a squire, / --six hundred or beyond-- In honor of the crowning, / that shall ye understand. Arose full great rejoicing / in the land of Burgundy As hand of youthful warrior / did shatter shaft right valiantly. 647 Then sat in castle casement / maidens fair to see, And many a shield beneath them / gleamed full brilliantly. Yet himself had sundered / from all his men the king; Though joyous every other, / sad-visaged stood he sorrowing. 648 He and the doughty Siegfried, / how all unlike their mood! Well wist the thing did grieve him / that noble knight and good. He went unto the monarch / and straight addressed him so: "This night how hast thou fared? / In friendship give thou me to know." 649 To his guest the king gave answer: / "Than shame and scathe I've naught. The devil's dam I surely / into my house have brought. When as I thought to have her / she bound me like a thrall; Unto a nail she bore me / and hung me high upon the wall. 650 "There hung I sore in anguish / the night through until day Ere that she would unbind me, / the while she softly lay! And hast thou friendly pity / know then the grief I bear." Then spake the doughty Siegfried: / "Such grieves me verily to hear. 651 "The which I'll show thee truly, / wilt thou me not deny. I'll bring it that to-night she / so near to thee shall lie That she to meet thy wishes / shall tarry nevermore." Thereat rejoice did Gunther / to think perchance his trials o'er. 652 Then further spake Sir Siegfried: / "With thee 'twill yet be right. I ween that all unequal / we twain have fared this night. To me thy sister Kriemhild / dearer is than life; Eke shall the Lady Brunhild / be yet this coming night thy wife." 653 "I'll come unto thy chamber / this night all secretly," Spake he, "and wrapped in mantle / invisible I'll be, That of this my cunning / naught shall any know; And thy attendants shalt thou / bid to their apartments go. 654 "The lights I'll all extinguish / held by each page in hand, By the which same token / shalt thou understand I present am to serve thee. / I'll tame thy shrewish wife That thou this night enjoy her, / else forfeit be my caitiff life." 655 "An thou wilt truly leave me" / --answered him the king-- 'My lady yet a maiden, / I joy o'er this same thing. So do thou as thou willest; / and takest thou her life, E'en that I'll let pass o'er me, / --to lose so terrible a wife." 656 "Thereto," spake then Siegfried, / "plight I word of mine, To leave her yet a maiden. / A sister fair of thine Is to me before all women / I ever yet have seen." Gunther believed right gladly / what had by Siegfried plighted been. 657 Meanwhile the merry pastime / with joy and zest went on. But all the din and bustle / bade they soon be done, When band of fairest ladies / would pass unto the hall 'Fore whom did royal chamberlains / bid backward stand the people all. 658 The chargers soon and riders / from castle court were sped. Each of the noble ladies / by bishop high was led, When that before the monarchs / they passed to banquet board, And in their train did follow / to table many a stately lord. 659 There sat the king all hopeful / and full of merriment; What him did promise Siegfried, / thereon his mind was bent. To him as long as thirty / did seem that single day; To plaisance with his lady, / thither turned his thought alway. 660 And scarce the time he bided / while that the feast did last. Now unto her chamber / the stately Brunhild passed, And for her couch did Kriemhild / likewise the table leave. Before those royal ladies / what host ye saw of warriors brave! 661 Full soon thereafter Siegfried / sat right lovingly With his fair wife beside him, / and naught but joy had he. His hand she clasped full fondly / within her hand so white, Until--and how she knew not-- / he did vanish from her sight. 662 When she the knight did fondle, / and straightway saw him not, Unto her maids attendant / spake the queen distraught: "Meseemeth a mickle wonder / where now the king hath gone. His hands in such weird fashion / who now from out mine own hath drawn?" 663 Yet further not she questioned. / Soon had he hither gone Where with lights were standing / attendants many a one. The same he did extinguish / in every page's hand; That Siegfried then was present / Gunther thereby did understand. 664 Well wist he what he would there; / so bade he thence be gone Ladies and maids-in-waiting. / And when that was done, Himself the mighty monarch / fast did lock the door: Two bolts all wrought securely / he quickly shoved the same before. 665 The lights behind the curtains / hid he presently. Soon a play was started / (for thus it had to be), Betwixt the doughty Siegfried / and the stately maid: Thereat was royal Gunther / joyous alike and sad. 666 Siegfried there laid him / by the maid full near. Spake she: "Let be, now, Gunther, / an hast thou cause to fear Those troubles now repeated / which befell thee yesternight." And soon the valiant Siegfried / through the lady fell in sorry plight. 667 His voice did he keep under / and ne'er a word spake he. Intently listened Gunther, / and though he naught could see, Yet knew he that in secret / nothing 'twixt them passed. In sooth nor knight nor lady / upon the bed had mickle rest. 668 He did there as if Gunther / the mighty king he were, And in his arms he pressed her, / the maiden debonair. Forth from the bed she hurled him / where a bench there stood, And head of valiant warrior / against a stool went ringing loud. 669 Up sprang again undaunted / the full doughty man, To try for fortune better. / When he anew began Perforce to curb her fury, / fell he in trouble sore. I ween that ne'er a lady / did so defend herself before. 670 When he would not give over, / up the maid arose: "My gown so white thou never / thus shalt discompose. And this thy villain's manner / shall sore by thee be paid, The same I'll teach thee truly," / further spake the buxom maid. 671 Within her arms she clasped him, / the full stately thane, And thought likewise to bind him, / as the king yestreen, That she the night in quiet / upon her couch might lie. That her dress he thus did rumple, / avenged the lady grievously. 672 What booted now his prowess / and eke his mickle might? Her sovereignty of body / she proved upon the knight; By force of arm she bore him, / --'twixt wall and mighty chest (For so it e'en must happen) / him she all ungently pressed. 673 "Ah me!"--so thought the hero-- / "shall I now my life Lose at hand of woman, / then will every wife Evermore hereafter / a shrewish temper show Against her lord's good wishes, / who now such thing ne'er thinks to do." 674 All heard the monarch meanwhile / and trembled for the man. Sore ashamed was Siegfried, / and a-raging he began. With might and main he struggled / again to make him free, Ere which to sorest trouble / 'neath Lady Brunhild's hand fell he. 675 Long space to him it seemed / ere Siegfried tamed her mood. She grasped his hand so tightly / that 'neath the nails the blood Oozed from the pressure, / which made the hero wince. Yet the stately maiden / subdued he to obedience since. 676 Her unrestrained temper / that she so late displayed, All overheard the monarch, / though ne'er a word he said. 'Gainst the bed did press her Siegfried / that aloud she cried, Ungentle was the treatment / that he meted to the bride. 677 Then grasped she for a girdle / that round her sides she wore, And thought therewith to bind him; / but her limbs and body o'er Strained beneath the vigor / that his strong arm displayed. So was the struggle ended / --Gunther's wife was vanquished. 678 She spake: "O noble monarch, / take not my life away. The harm that I have done thee / full well will I repay. No more thy royal embraces / by me shall be withstood, For now I well have seen it, / thou canst be lord o'er woman's mood." 679 From the couch rose Siegfried, / lying he left the maid, As if that he would from him / lay his clothes aside. He drew from off her finger / a ring of golden sheen Without that e'er perceived / his practice the full noble queen. 680 Thereto he took her girdle / that was all richly wrought: If from wanton spirit / he did it, know I not. The same he gave to Kriemhild: / the which did sorrow bear. Then lay by one another / Gunther and the maiden fair. 681 Hearty were his embraces / as such king became: Perforce must she relinquish / her anger and her shame. In sooth not little pallid / within his arms she grew, And in that love-surrender / how waned her mighty prowess too! 682 Then was e'en she not stronger / than e'er another bride; He lay with fond embraces / the beauteous dame beside. And had she struggled further, / avail how could it aught? Gunther, when thus he clasped her, / such change upon her strength had wrought. 683 And with right inward pleasure / she too beside him lay In warmest love embracings / until the dawn of day! Meantime now had Siegfried / departure ta'en from there, And was full well received / by a lady debonair. 684 Her questioning he avoided / and all whereon she thought, And long time kept he secret / what he for her had brought, Until in his own country / she wore a royal crown; Yet what for her he destined, / how sure at last it was her own. 685 Upon the morn was Gunther / by far of better mood Than he had been before it; / joy thus did spread abroad 'Mid host of knights full noble / that from his lands around To his court had been invited, / and there most willing service found. 686 The merry time there lasted / until two weeks were spent, Nor all the while did flag there / the din of merriment And every kind of joyance / that knight could e'er devise; With lavish hand expended / the king thereto in fitting wise. 687 The noble monarch's kinsmen / upon his high command By gifts of gold and raiment / told forth his generous hand, By steed and thereto silver / on minstrel oft bestowed. Who there did gift desire / departed thence in merry mood. 688 All the store of raiment / afar from Netherland, The which had Siegfried's thousand / warriors brought to hand Unto the Rhine there with them, / complete 'twas dealt away, And eke the steeds well saddled: / in sooth a lordly life led they. 689 Ere all the gifts so bounteous / were dealt the guests among, They who would straightway homeward / did deem the waiting long. Ne'er had guests of monarch / such goodly gifts before; And so as Gunther willed it / the merry feast at last was o'er. ELEVENTH ADVENTURE How Siegfried came home with his Wife 690 When that now the strangers / all from thence were gone, Spake unto his followers / noble Siegmund's son: "We shall eke make ready / home to my land to fare." Unto his spouse was welcome / such news when she the same did hear. 691 She spake unto her husband: / "When shall we hence depart? Not hastily on the journey / I pray thee yet to start. With me first my brothers / their wide lands shall share." Siegfried yet it pleased not / such words from Kriemhild to hear. 692 The princes went unto him / and spake they there all three: "Now know thou well, Sir Siegfried, / for thee shall ever be In faithfulness our service / ready while yet we live." The royal thanes then thanked he / who thus did proof of friendship give. 693 "With thee further share we," / spake young Giselher, "The lands and eke the castles / by us that owned are. In wide lands whatsoever / we rule o'er warriors brave, Of the same with Kriemhild / a goodly portion shalt thou have. 694 Then spake unto the princes / the son of Siegmund When he their lofty purpose / did rightly understand: "God grant your goodly heritage / at peace may ever be, And eke therein your people. / The spouse in sooth so dear to me." 695 "May well forego the portion / that ye to her would give. For she a crown shall carry, / if to such day I live, And queen more rich than any / that lives she then must be. What else to her ye offer, / therein I'll meet you faithfully." 696 Then spake the Lady Kriemhild: / "If wealth thou wilt not choose, Yet gallant thanes of Burgundy / shalt thou not light refuse. They're such as monarch gladly / would lead to his own land. Of these shall make division / with me my loving brothers' hand." 697 Thereto spake noble Gernot: / "Now take to please thy mind. Who gladly will go with thee / full many here thou'lt find. Of thirty hundred warriors / we give thee thousand men To be thy royal escort." / Kriemhild did summon then 698 Hagen of Tronje to her / and Ortwein instantly: And would they and their kinsmen / make her good company? To hear the same did Hagen / begin to rage full sore. Quoth he: "E'en royal Gunther / may thus bestow us nevermore. 699 "Other men that serve thee, / let them follow thee; Thou know'st the men of Tronje / and what their pledges be: Here must we by the monarchs / in service true abide; Hereto as them we followed, / so shall we henceforth keep their side." 700 And so the thing was ended: / to part they ready make. A high and noble escort / did Kriemhild to her take, Maidens two and thirty / and five hundred men also. In Lady Kriemhild's company / the Margrave Eckewart did go. 701 Leave took they all together, / squire and also knight, Maidens and fair ladies, / as was their wont aright. There parted they with kisses / and eke with clasp of hand: Right merrily they journeyed / forth from royal Gunther's land. 702 Their friends did give them escort / upon the way full far. Night-quarters at every station / they bade for them prepare, Where they might wish to tarry / as on their way they went. Then straightway was a messenger / unto royal Siegmund sent, 703 To him and Siegelind bearing / thereof the joyful sign That his son was coming / from Worms upon the Rhine And with him Ute's daughter, / Kriemhild the fair lady. As this could other message / nevermore so welcome be. 704 "Well is me!" quoth Siegmund, / "that I the day have known, When the fair Lady Kriemhild / here shall wear a crown. Thus higher shall my kingdom / stand in majesty. My son the noble Siegfried / here himself the king shall be." 705 Then dealt the Lady Siegelind / velvet red in store, Silver and gold full heavy / to them the news that bore: She joyed to hear the story / that there her ear did greet. Then decked themselves her ladies / all in rich attire meet. 706 'Twas told, with Siegfried coming / whom they did expect. Then bade they sitting-places / straightway to erect, Where he before his kinsmen / a crown in state should wear. Then men of royal Siegmund / forward rode to meet him there. 707 Was e'er more royal greeting, / news have I not to hand, As came the knights full noble / into Siegmund's land. There the royal Siegelind / to Kriemhild forth did ride With ladies fair a many, / and followed gallant knights beside 708 Out a full day's journey / to welcome each high guest. And little with the strangers / did they ever rest Until into a castle / wide they came once more, The same was called Xanten, / where anon a crown they wore. 709 With smiling lips Dame Siegelind / --and Siegmund eke did this-- To show the love they bore her / full oft did Kriemhild kiss, And eke the royal Siegfried: / far was their sorrow gone. And all the merry company, / good welcome had they every one. 710 The train of strangers bade they / 'fore Siegmund's Hall to lead, And maidens fair a many / down from gallant steed Helped they there dismounting. / Full many a man was there To do them willing service / as was meet for ladies fair. 711 How great soe'er the splendor / erstwhile beside the Rhine, Here none the less was given / raiment yet more fine, Nor were they e'er attired / in all their days so well. Full many a wonder might I / of their rich apparel tell. 712 How there in state resplendent / they sat and had full store, And how each high attendant / gold-broidered raiment wore, With stones full rare and precious / set with skill therein! The while with care did serve them / Siegelind the noble queen. 713 Then spake the royal Siegmund / before his people so: "To every friend of Siegfried / give I now to know That he before these warriors / my royal crown shall wear." And did rejoice that message / the thanes of Netherland to hear. 714 His crown to him he tendered / and rule o'er wide domain Whereof he all was master. / Where'er did reach his reign Or men were subject to him / bestowed his hand such care That evil-doers trembled / before the spouse of Kriemhild fair. 715 In such high honor truly / he lived, as ye shall hear, And judged as lofty monarch / unto the tenth year, What time his fairest lady / to him a son did bear. Thereat the monarch's kinsmen / filled with mickle joyance were. 716 They soon the same did christen / and gave to him a name, Gunther, as hight his uncle, / nor cause was that for shame: Grew he but like his kinsmen / then happy might he be. As well he did deserve it, / him fostered they right carefully. 717 In the selfsame season / did Lady Siegelind die, When was full power wielded / by Ute's daughter high, As meet so lofty lady / should homage wide receive. That death her thus had taken / did many a worthy kinsman grieve. 718 Now by the Rhine yonder, / as we likewise hear, Unto mighty Gunther / eke a son did bear Brunhild his fair lady / in the land of Burgundy. In honor to the hero / Siegfried named eke was he. 719 The child they also fostered / with what tender care! Gunther the noble monarch / anon did masters rare Find who should instruct him / a worthy man to grow. Alas! by sad misfortune / to friends was dealt how fell a blow! 720 At all times the story / far abroad was told, How that in right worthy / way the warriors bold Lived there in Siegmund's country / as noble knights should do. Likewise did royal Gunther / eke amid his kinsmen true. 721 Land of the Nibelungen / Siegfried as well did own, --Amid his lofty kindred / a mightier ne'er was known-- And Schilbung's knights did serve him, / with all that theirs had been. That great was thus his power / did fill with joy the knight full keen. 722 Hoard of all the greatest / that hero ever won, Save who erstwhile did wield it, / now the knight did own, The which before a mountain / he seized against despite, And for whose sake he further / slew full many a gallant knight. 723 Naught more his heart could wish for; / yet had his might been less, Rightly must all people / of the high knight confess, One was he of the worthiest / that e'er bestrode a steed. Feared was his mickle prowess, / and, sooth to say, thereof was need. TWELFTH ADVENTURE How Gunther bade Siegfried to the Feast 724 Now all time bethought her / royal Gunther's wife: "How now doth Lady Kriemhild / lead so haughty life? In sooth her husband Siegfried / doth homage to us owe, But now full long unto us / little service he doth show." 725 That in her heart in secret / eke she pondered o'er. That they were strangers to her / did grieve her heart full sore, And so seldom sign of service / came from Siegfried's land. How it thus was fallen, / that she fain would understand. 726 She probed then the monarch, / if the thing might be, That she the Lady Kriemhild / once again might see. She spake it all in secret / whereon her heart did dwell; The thing she then did speak of / pleased the monarch passing well. 727 "How might we bring them hither" / --spake the mighty king-- "Unto this my country? / 'Twere ne'er to do, such thing. They dwell too distant from us, / the quest I fear to make." Thereto gave answer Brunhild, / and in full crafty wise she spake: 728 "How high soe'er and mighty / king's man were ever one, Whate'er should bid his master, / may he not leave undone." Thereat did smile King Gunther, / as such words spake she: Ne'er bade he aught of service, / oft as Siegfried he did see. 729 She spake: "Full loving master, / as thou hold'st me dear, Help me now that Siegfried / and thy sister fair Come to this our country, / that them we here may see; In sooth no thing could ever / unto me more welcome be. 730 "Thy sister's lofty bearing / and all her courtesy, Whene'er I think upon it, / full well it pleaseth me, How we did sit together / when erst I was thy spouse! Well in sooth with honor / might she the valiant Siegfried choose." 731 She pleaded with the monarch / so long till answered he: "Know now that guests none other / so welcome were to me. To gain thy wish 'tis easy: / straight messengers of mine To both shall message carry, / that hither come they to the Rhine." 732 Thereto the queen gave answer: / "Now further shalt thou say, When thou them wilt summon, / or when shall be the day That our dear friends come hither / unto our country. Who'll bear thy message thither, / shalt thou eke make known to me." 733 "That will I," spake the monarch. / "Thirty of my men Shall thither ride unto them." / The same he summoned then, And bade them with the message / to Siegfried's land to fare. They joyed as gave them Brunhild / stately raiment rich to wear. 734 Then further spake the monarch: / "Ye knights from me shall bring This message, nor withhold ye / of it anything, Unto the doughty Siegfried / and eke my sister fair: In the world could never any / to them a better purpose bear. 735 "And pray them both that hither / they come unto the Rhine. With me will e'er my lady / such grace to pay combine, Ere turn of sun in summer / he and his men shall know That liveth here full many / to them would willing honor show. 736 "Unto royal Siegmund / bear greeting fair from me, That I and my friends ever / to him well-minded be. And tell ye eke my sister / she shall no wise omit Hither to friends to journey: / ne'er feast could better her befit." 737 Brunhild and Ute / and ladies all at hand, They sent a fairest greeting / unto Siegfried's land To winsome ladies many / and many a warrior brave. With godspeed from the monarch / and friends the messengers took leave. 738 They fared with full equipment: / their steeds did ready stand And rich were they attired: / so rode they from that land They hastened on the journey / whither they would fare; Escort safe the monarch / had bidden eke for them prepare. 739 Their journey had they ended / e'er three weeks were spent. At the Nibelungen castle, / whither they were sent, In the mark of Norway / found they the knight they sought, And weary were the horses / the messengers so far had brought. 740 Then was told to Siegfried / and to Kriemhild fair How knights were there arrived / who did raiment wear Like as in land of Burgundy / of wont the warriors dressed. Thereat did hasten Kriemhild / from couch where she did lying rest. 741 Then bade eke to a window / one of her maids to go. She saw the valiant Gere / stand in the court below, And with him his companions, / who did thither fare. To hear such joyous tidings, / how soon her heart forgot its care. 742 She spake unto the monarch: / "Look now thitherward Where with the doughty Gere / stand in the castle yard Whom to us brother Gunther / adown the Rhine doth send!" Thereto spake doughty Siegfried: / "With greeting fair we'll them attend." 743 Then hastened their retainers / all the guests to meet, And each of them in special / manner then did greet The messengers full kindly / and warmest welcome bade. Siegmund did likewise / o'er their coming wax full glad. 744 In fitting way was harbored / Gere and his men, And steeds in charge were taken. / The messengers went then Where beside Sir Siegfried / the Lady Kriemhild sat. To court the guests were bidden, / where them did greeting fair await. 745 The host with his fair lady, / straightway up stood he, And greeted fairly Gere / of the land of Burgundy And with him his companions / King Gunther's men also. Gere, knight full mighty, / bade they to a settle go. 746 "Allow that first the message / we give ere sit we down; The while we'll stand, though weary / upon our journey grown. Tidings bring we to you / what greetings high have sent Gunther and Brunhild / who live in royal fair content. 747 "Eke what from Lady Ute / thy mother now we've brought. The youthful Giselher / and also Sir Gernot And best among thy kinsmen / have sent us here to thee: A fairest greeting send they / from the land of Burgundy." 748 "God give them meed," spake Siegfried; / "Good will and faith withal I trow full well they harbor, / as with friends we shall; Likewise doth eke their sister. / Now further shall ye tell If that our friends beloved / at home in high estate do dwell. 749 "Since that we from them parted / hath any dared to do Scathe to my lady's kinsmen? / That shall ye let me know. I'll help them ever truly / all their need to bear Till that their enemies / have good cause my help to fear." 750 Then spake the Margrave / Gere, a knight full good: "In all that maketh knighthood / right proud they stand of mood. Unto the Rhine they bid you / to high festivity: They'd see you there full gladly, / thereof may ye not doubtful be. 751 "And bid they eke my Lady / Kriemhild that she too, When ended is the winter, / thither come with you. Ere turn of sun in summer / trust they you to see." Then spake the doughty Siegfried: / "That same thing might hardly be." 752 Thereto did answer Gere / of the land of Burgundy: "Your high mother Ute / hath message sent by me, Likewise Gernot and Giselher, / that they plead not in vain. That you they see so seldom / daily hear I them complain. 753 "Brunhild my mistress / and all her company Of fair maids rejoice them; / if the thing might be That they again should see you, / of merry mood they were." Then joy to hear the tidings / filled the Lady Kriemhild fair. 754 Gere to her was kinsman. / The host did bid him rest, Nor long were they in pouring / wine for every guest. Thither came eke Siegmund / where the strangers he did see, And in right friendly manner / spake to the men of Burgundy: 755 "Welcome be, ye warriors, / ye Gunther's men, each one. Since that fair Kriemhild / Siegfried my son For spouse did take unto him, / we should you ofter see Here in this our country, / an ye good friends to us would be." 756 They spake, whene'er he wished it, / full glad to come were they. All their mickle weariness / with joy was ta'en away. The messengers were seated / and food to them they bore, Whereof did Siegfried offer / unto his guests a goodly store. 757 Until nine days were over / must they there abide, When did at last the valiant / knights begin to chide That they did not ride thither / again unto their land. Then did the royal Siegfried / summon his good knights to hand. 758 He asked what they did counsel: / should they unto the Rhine? "Me unto him hath bidden / Gunther, friend of mine, He and his good kinsmen, / to high festivity. Thither went I full gladly, / but that his land so far doth lie. 759 "Kriemhild bid they likewise / that she with me shall fare. Good friends, now give ye counsel / how we therefor prepare. And were it armies thirty / to lead in distant land, Yet must serve them gladly / evermore Siegfried's hand." 760 Then answer gave his warriors. / "An't pleaseth thee to go Thither to the festival, / we'll counsel what thou do. Thou shalt with thousand warriors / unto Rhine river ride. So may'st thou well with honor / in the land of Burgundy abide." 761 Then spake of Netherland / Siegmund the king: "Will ye to the festival, / why hide from me the thing! I'll journey with you thither, / if it not displeasing be, And lead good thanes a hundred / wherewith to swell your company." 762 "And wilt thou with us journey, / father full dear to me," Spake the valiant Siegfried, / "full glad thereat I'll be. Before twelve days are over / from these my lands I fare." To all who'd join the journey / steeds gave they and apparel rare. 763 When now the lofty monarch / was minded thus to ride Bade he the noble messengers / longer not to bide, And to his lady's kinsmen / to the Rhine a message sent, How that he would full gladly / join to make them merriment. 764 Siegfried and Kriemhild, / this same tale we hear, To the messengers gave so richly / that the burden could not bear Their horses with them homeward, / such wealth in sooth he had. The horses heavy-laden / drove they thence with hearts full glad. 765 Siegfried and Siegmund / their people richly clad. Eckewart the Margrave, / straightway he bade For ladies choose rich clothing, / the best that might be found, Or e'er could be procured / in all Siegfried's lands around. 766 The shields and the saddles / gan they eke prepare, To knights and fair ladies / who with them should fare Lacked nothing that they wished for, / but of all they were possessed. Then to his friends led Siegfried / many a high and stately guest. 767 The messengers swift hasted / homeward on their way, And soon again came Gere / to the land of Burgundy. Full well was he received, / and there dismounted all His train from off their horses / before the royal Gunther's Hall. 768 Old knights and youthful squires / crowded, as is their way, To ask of them the tidings. / Thus did the brave knight say: "When to the king I tell them / then shall ye likewise hear." He went with his companions / and soon 'fore Gunther did appear. 769 Full of joy the monarch / did from the settle spring; And did thank them also / for their hastening Brunhild the fair lady. / Spake Gunther eagerly: "How now liveth Siegfried, / whose arm hath oft befriended me?" 770 Then spake the valiant Gere: / "Joy o'er the visage went Of him and eke thy sister. / To friends was never sent A more faithful greeting / by good knight ever one, Than now the mighty Siegfried / and his royal sire have done." 771 Then spake unto the Margrave / the noble monarch's wife: "Now tell me, cometh Kriemhild? / And marketh yet her life Aught of the noble bearing / did her erstwhile adorn?" "She cometh to thee surely," / Gere answer did return. 772 Ute straightway the messengers / to her did command. Then might ye by her asking / full well understand To her was joyous tidings / how Kriemhild did betide. He told her how he found her, / and that she soon would hither ride. 773 Eke of all the presents / did they naught withhold, That had given them Siegfried: / apparel rich and gold Displayed they to the people / of the monarchs three. To him were they full grateful / who thus had dealt so bounteously. 774 "Well may he," quoth Hagen, / "of his treasure give, Nor could he deal it fully, / should he forever live: Hoard of the Nibelungen / beneath his hand doth lie. Heigh-ho, if came it ever / into the land of Burgundy!" 775 All the king's retainers / glad they were thereat, That the guests were coming. / Early then and late Full little were they idle, / the men of monarchs three. Seats builded they full many / toward the high festivity. 776 The valiant knight Hunold / and Sindold doughty thane Little had of leisure. / Meantime must the twain, Stands erect full many, / as their high office bade. Therein did help them Ortwein, / and Gunther's thanks therefor they had. 777 Rumold the High Steward / busily he wrought Among them that did serve him. / Full many a mighty pot, And spacious pans and kettles, / how many might ye see! For those to them were coming / prepared they victuals plenteously. THIRTEENTH ADVENTURE How they fared to the Feast 778 Leave we now the ardor / wherewith they did prepare, And tell how Lady Kriemhild / and eke her maidens fair From land of Nibelungen / did journey to the Rhine. Ne'er did horses carry / such store of raiment rich and fine. 779 Carrying-chests full many / for the way they made ready. Then rode the thane Siegfried / with his friends in company And eke the queen thither / where joy they looked to find. Where now was high rejoicing / they soon in sorest grief repined. 780 At home behind them left they / Lady Kriemhild's son That she did bear to Siegfried / --'twas meet that that be done. From this their festive journey / rose mickle sorrow sore: His father and his mother / their child beheld they never more. 781 Then eke with them thither / Siegmund the king did ride. Had he e'er had knowledge / what should there betide Anon from that high journey, / such had he never seen: Ne'er wrought upon dear kindred / might so grievous wrong have been. 782 Messengers sent they forward / that the tidings told should be. Then forth did ride to meet them / with gladsome company Ute's friends full many / and many a Gunther's man. With zeal to make him ready / unto his guests the king began. 783 Where he found Brunhild sitting, / thither straight went he. "How received thee my sister, / as thou cam'st to this country? Like preparations shalt thou / for Siegfried's wife now make." "Fain do I that; good reason / have I to love her well," she spake. 784 Then quoth the mighty monarch: / "The morn shall see them here. Wilt thou go forth to meet them, / apace do thou prepare, That not within the castle / their coming we await. Guests more welcome never / greeted I of high estate." 785 Her maidens and her ladies / straight did she command To choose them rich apparel, / the best within the land, In which the stately company / before the guests should go. The same they did right gladly, / that may ye full surely know. 786 Then eke to offer service / the men of Gunther hied, And all his doughty warriors / saw ye by the monarch's side. Then rode the queen full stately / the strangers forth to meet, And hearty was the welcome / as she her loving guests did greet. 787 With what glad rejoicings / the guests they did receive! They deemed that Lady Kriemhild / did unto Brunhild give Ne'er so warm a welcome / to the land of Burgundy. Bold knights that yet were strangers / rejoiced each other there to see. 788 Now come was also Siegfried / with his valiant men. The warriors saw ye riding / thither and back again, Where'er the plain extended, / with huge company. From the dust and crowding / could none in all the rout be free. 789 When the monarch of the country / Siegfried did see And with him also Siegmund, / spake he full lovingly: "Be ye to me full welcome / and to all these friends of mine. Our hearts right glad they shall be / o'er this your journey to the Rhine." 790 "God give thee meed," spake Siegmund, / a knight in honor grown. "Since that my son Siegfried / thee for a friend hath known, My heart hath e'er advised me / that thee I soon should see." Thereto spake royal Gunther: / "Joy hast thou brought full great to me." 791 Siegfried was there received, / as fitted his high state, With full lofty honors, / nor one did bear him hate. There joined in way right courteous / Gernot and Giselher: I ween so warm a welcome / did they make for strangers ne'er. 792 The spouse of each high monarch / greeted the other there. Emptied was many a saddle, / and many a lady fair By hero's hand was lifted / adown upon the sward. By waiting on fair lady / how many a knight sought high reward! 793 So went unto each other / the ladies richly dight; Thereat in high rejoicing / was seen full many a knight, That by both the greeting / in such fair way was done. By fair maidens standing / saw ye warriors many a one. 794 Each took the hand of other / in all their company; In courteous manner bending / full many might ye see And loving kisses given / by ladies debonair. Rejoiced the men of Gunther / and Siegfried to behold them there. 795 They bided there no longer / but rode into the town. The host bade to the strangers / in fitting way be shown, That they were seen full gladly / in the land of Burgundy. High knights full many tilting / before fair ladies might ye see. 796 Then did of Tronje Hagen / and eke Ortwein In high feats of valor / all other knights outshine. Whate'er the twain commanded / dared none to leave undone; By them was many a service / to their high guests in honor shown. 797 Shields heard ye many clashing / before the castle gate With din of lances breaking. / Long in saddle sate The host and guests there with him, / ere that within they went. With full merry pastime / joyfully the hours they spent. 798 Unto the Hall so spacious / rode the merry company. Many a silken cover / wrought full cunningly Saw ye beyond the saddles / of the ladies debonair On all sides down hanging. / King Gunther's men did meet them there. 799 Led by the same the strangers / to their apartments passed. Meanwhile oft her glances / Brunhild was seen to cast Upon the Lady Kriemhild, / for she was passing fair. In lustre vied her color / with the gold that she did wear. 800 Within the town a clamor / at Worms on every hand Arose amid their followers. / King Gunther gave command To Dankwart his Marshal / to tend them all with care. Then bade he fitting quarters / for the retinue prepare. 801 Without and in the castle / the board for all was set: In sooth were never strangers / better tended yet. Whatever any wished for / did they straightway provide: So mighty was the monarch / that naught to any was denied. 802 To them was kind attention / and all good friendship shown. The host then at the table / with his guests sat him down. Siegfried they bade be seated / where he did sit before. Then went with him to table / full many a stately warrior more. 803 Gallant knights twelve hundred / in the circle there, I ween, With him sat at table. / Brunhild the lofty queen Did deem that never vassal / could more mighty be. So well she yet was minded, / she saw it not unwillingly. 804 There upon an evening, / as the king with guests did dine, Full many a rich attire / was wet with ruddy wine, As passed among the tables / the butlers to and fro. And great was their endeavor / full honor to the guests to show. 805 As long hath been the custom / at high festivity Fit lodging there was given / to maid and high lady. From whence soe'er they came there / they had the host's good care; Unto each guest was meted / of fitting honors fullest share. 806 When now the night was ended / and came forth the dawn, From chests they carried with them, / full many a precious stone Sparkled on costly raiment / by hand of lady sought. Stately robes full many / forth to deck them then they brought. 807 Ere dawn was full appeared, / before the Hall again Came knights and squires many, / whereat arose the din E'en before the matins / that for the king were sung. Well pleased was the monarch / at joust to see the warriors young. 808 Full lustily and loudly / many a horn did blare, Of flutes and eke of trumpets / such din did rend the air That loud came back the echo / from Worms the city wide. The warriors high-hearted / to saddle sprung on every side. 809 Arose there in that country / high a jousting keen Of many a doughty warrior / whereof were many seen, Whom there their hearts more youthful / did make of merry mood; Of these 'neath shield there saw ye / many a stately knight and good. 810 There sat within the casements / many a high lady And maidens many with them, / the which were fair to see. Down looked they where did tourney / many a valiant man. The host with his good kinsmen / himself a-riding soon began. 811 Thus they found them pastime, / and fled the time full well; Then heard they from the minster / the sound of many a bell. Forth upon their horses / the ladies thence did ride; Many a knight full valiant / the lofty queens accompanied. 812 They then before the minster / alighted on the grass. Unto her guests Queen Brunhild / yet well-minded was. Into the spacious minster / they passed, and each wore crown. Their friendship yet was broken / by direst jealousy anon. 813 When the mass was ended / went they thence again In full stately manner. / Thereafter were they seen Joyous at board together. / The pleasure full did last, Until days eleven / amid the merry-making passed. FOURTEENTH ADVENTURE How the Queens Berated Each Other 814 Before the time of vespers / arose a mickle stir On part of warriors many / upon the courtyard there. In knightly fashion made they / the time go pleasantly; Thither knights and ladies / went their merry play to see. 815 There did sit together / the queens, a stately pair, And of two knights bethought them, / that noble warriors were. Then spake the fair Kriemhild: / "Such spouse in sooth have I, That all these mighty kingdoms / might well beneath his sceptre lie." 816 Then spake the Lady Brunhild: / "How might such thing be? If that there lived none other / but himself and thee, So might perchance his power / rule these kingdoms o'er; The while that liveth Gunther, / may such thing be nevermore." 817 Then again spake Kriemhild: / "Behold how he doth stand In right stately fashion / before the knightly band, Like as the bright moon beameth / before the stars of heaven. In sooth to think upon it / a joyous mood to me is given." 818 Then spake the Lady Brunhild: / "How stately thy spouse be, Howe'er so fair and worthy, / yet must thou grant to me Gunther, thy noble brother, / doth far beyond him go: In sooth before all monarchs / he standeth, shalt thou truly know." 819 Then again spake Kriemhild: / "So worthy is my spouse, That I not have praised him / here without a cause. In ways to tell full many / high honor doth he bear: Believe well may'st thou, Brunhild, / he is the royal Gunther's peer." 820 "Now guard thee, Lady Kriemhild, / my word amiss to take, For not without good reason here / such thing I spake. Both heard I say together, / when them I first did see, When that erstwhile the monarch / did work his royal will o'er me, 821 And when in knightly fashion / my love for him he won, Then himself said Siegfried / he were the monarch's man. For liegeman thus I hold him, / since he the same did say." Then spake fair Lady Kriemhild: / "With me 'twere dealt in sorry way. 822 "And these my noble brothers, / how could they such thing see, That I of their own liegeman / e'er the wife should be? Thus will I beg thee, Brunhild, / as friend to friend doth owe, That thou, as well befits thee, / shalt further here such words forego." 823 "No whit will I give over," / spake the monarch's spouse. "Wherefore should I so many / a knight full valiant lose, Who to us in service / is bounden with thy man?" Kriemhild the fair lady / thereat sore to rage began. 824 "In sooth must thou forego it / that he should e'er to thee Aught of service offer. / More worthy e'en is he Than is my brother Gunther, / who is a royal lord. So shalt thou please to spare me / what I now from thee have heard. 825 "And to me is ever wonder, / since he thy liegeman is, And thou dost wield such power / over us twain as this, That he so long his tribute / to thee hath failed to pay. 'Twere well thy haughty humor / thou should'st no longer here display." 826 "Too lofty now thou soarest," / the queen did make reply. "Now will I see full gladly / if in such honor high This folk doth hold thy person / as mine own it doth." Of mood full sorely wrathful / were the royal ladies both. 827 Then spake the Lady Kriemhild: / "That straightway shall be seen. Since that thou my husband / dost thy liegeman ween, To-day shall all the followers / of both the monarchs know, If I 'fore wife of monarch / dare unto the minster go. 828 "That I free-born and noble / shalt thou this day behold, And that my royal husband, / as now to thee I've told, 'Fore thine doth stand in honor, / by me shall well be shown. Ere night shalt thou behold it, / how wife of him thou call'st thine own 829 To court shall lead good warriors / in the land of Burgundy. And ne'er a queen so lofty / as I myself shall be Was seen by e'er a mortal, / or yet a crown did wear." Then mickle was the anger / that rose betwixt the ladies there. 830 Then again spake Brunhild: / "Wilt thou not service own, So must thou with thy women / hold thyself alone Apart from all my following, / as we to minster go." Thereto gave answer Kriemhild: / "In truth the same I fain will do." 831 "Now dress ye fair, my maidens," / Kriemhild gave command. "Nor shall shame befall me / here within this land. An have ye fair apparel, / let now be seen by you. What she here hath boasted / may Brunhild have full cause to rue." 832 But little need to urge them: / soon were they richly clad In garments wrought full deftly, / lady and many a maid. Then went with her attendants / the spouse of the monarch high; And eke appeared fair Kriemhild, / her body decked full gorgeously, 833 With three and forty maidens, / whom to the Rhine led she, All clad in shining garments / wrought in Araby. So came unto the minster / the maidens fair and tall. Before the hall did tarry / for them the men of Siegfried all. 834 The people there did wonder / how the thing might be, That no more together / the queens they thus did see, And that beside each other / they went not as before. Thereby came thanes a many / anon to harm and trouble sore. 835 Here before the minster / the wife of Gunther stood. And good knights full many / were there of merry mood With the fair ladies / that their eyes did see. Then came the Lady Kriemhild / with a full stately company. 836 Whate'er of costly raiment / decked lofty maids before, 'Twas like a windy nothing / 'gainst what her ladies wore. The wives of thirty monarchs / --such riches were her own-- Might ne'er display together / what there by Lady Kriemhild shown. 837 Should any wish to do so / he could not say, I ween, That so rich apparel / e'er before was seen As there by her maidens / debonair was worn: But that it grieved Brunhild / had Kriemhild that to do forborne. 838 There they met together / before the minster high. Soon the royal matron, / through mickle jealousy, Kriemhild to pass no further, / did bid in rage full sore: "She that doth owe her homage / shall ne'er go monarch's wife before." 839 Then spake the Lady Kriemhild / --angry was her mood: "An could'st thou but be silent / that for thee were good. Thyself hast brought dishonor / upon thy fair body: How might, forsooth, a harlot / ever wife of monarch be?" 840 "Whom mak'st thou now a harlot?" / the king's wife answered her. "That do I thee," spake Kriemhild, / "for that thy body fair First was clasped by Siegfried, / knight full dear to me. In sooth 'twas ne'er my brother / won first thy maidenhead from thee. 841 "How did thy senses leave thee? / Cunning rare was this. How let his love deceive thee, / since he thy liegeman is? And all in vain," quoth Kriemhild, / "the plaint I hear thee bring." "In sooth," then answered Brunhild, / "I'll tell it to my spouse the king." 842 "What reck I of such evil? / Thy pride hath thee betrayed, That thou deem'st my homage / should e'er to thee be paid. Know thou in truth full certain / the thing may never be: Nor shall I e'er be ready / to look for faithful friend in thee." 843 Thereat did weep Queen Brunhild: / Kriemhild waited no more, But passed into the minster / the monarch's wife before, With train of fair attendants. / Arose there mickle hate, Whereby eyes brightly shining / anon did grow all dim and wet. 844 However God they worshipped / or there the mass was sung, Did deem the Lady Brunhild / the waiting all too long, For that her heart was saddened / and angry eke her mood. Therefore anon must suffer / many a hero keen and good. 845 Brunhild with her ladies / 'fore the minster did appear. Thought she: "Now must Kriemhild / further give me to hear Of what so loud upbraideth / me this free-tongued wife. And if he thus hath boasted, / amend shall Siegfried make with life." 846 Now came the noble Kriemhild / followed by warrior band. Then spake the Lady Brunhild: / "Still thou here shalt stand. Thou giv'st me out for harlot: / let now the same be seen. Know thou, what thus thou sayest / to me hath mickle sorrow been." 847 Then spake the Lady Kriemhild: / "So may'st thou let me go. With the ring upon my finger / I the same can show: That brought to me my lover / when first by thee he lay." Ne'er did Lady Brunhild / know grief as on this evil day. 848 Quoth she: "This ring full precious / some hand from me did steal, And from me thus a season / in evil way conceal: Full sure will I discover / who this same thief hath been." Then were the royal ladies / both in mood full angry seen. 849 Then gave answer Kriemhild: / "I deem the thief not I. Well hadst thou been silent, / hold'st thou thine honor high. I'll show it with this girdle / that I around me wear, That in this thing I err not: / Siegfried hath lain by thee full near." 850 Wrought of silk of Nineveh / a girdle there she wore, That of stones full precious / showed a goodly store. When saw it Lady Brunhild / straight to weep gan she: Soon must Gunther know it / and all the men of Burgundy. 851 Then spake the royal matron: / "Bid hither come to me Of Rhine the lofty monarch. / Hear straightway shall he How that his sister / doth my honor stain. Here doth she boast full open / that I in Siegfried's arms have lain." 852 The king came with his warriors, / where he did weeping find His royal spouse Brunhild, / then spake in manner kind: "Now tell me, my dear lady, / who hath done aught to thee?" She spake unto the monarch: / "Thy wife unhappy must thou see. 853 "Me, thy royal consort, / would thy sister fain Rob of all mine honor. / To thee must I complain: She boasts her husband Siegfried / hath known thy royal bed." Then spake the monarch Gunther: / "An evil thing she then hath said." 854 "I did lose a girdle: / here by her 'tis worn, And my ring all golden. / That I e'er was born, Do I rue full sorely / if thou wardest not from me This full great dishonor: / that will I full repay to thee." 855 Then spake the monarch Gunther: / "Now shall he come near, And hath he such thing boasted, / so shall he let us hear: Eke must full deny it / the knight of Netherland." Then straight the spouse of Kriemhild / hither to bring he gave command. 856 When that angry-minded / Siegfried them did see, Nor knew thereof the reason, / straightway then spake he: "Why do weep these ladies? / I'd gladly know that thing, Or wherefore to this presence / I am bidden by the king." 857 Then spake the royal Gunther: / "Sore grieveth me this thing: To me my Lady Brunhild / doth the story bring, How that thereof thou boastest / that her fair body lay First in thy embraces: / this doth thy Lady Kriemhild say." 858 Thereto gave answer Siegfried: / "An if she thus hath said, Full well shall she repent it / ere doth rest my head: Before all thy good warriors / of that I'll make me free, And swear by my high honor / such thing hath ne'er been told by me." 859 Then spake of Rhine the monarch: / "That shalt thou let us see. The oath that thou dost offer, / if such performed be, Of all false accusation / shalt thou delivered stand." In ring to take their station / did he the high-born thanes command. 860 The full valiant Siegfried / in oath the hand did give. Then spake the lordly monarch: / "Well now do I perceive How thou art all blameless, / of all I speak thee free; What here maintains my sister, / the same hath ne'er been done by thee." 861 Thereto gave answer Siegfried: / "If gain should e'er accrue Unto my spouse, that Brunhild / from her had cause to rue, Know that to me full sorely / 'twould endless sorrow be." Then looked upon each other / the monarchs twain right graciously. 862 "So should we govern women," / spake the thane Siegfried, "That to leave wanton babble / they should take good heed. Forbid it to thy wife now, / to mine I'll do the same. Such ill-becoming manner /in sooth doth fill my heart with shame." 863 No more said many a lady / fair, but thus did part. Then did the Lady Brunhild / grieve so sore at heart, That it must move to pity / all King Gunther's men. To go unto his mistress / Hagen of Tronje saw ye then. 864 He asked to know her worry, / as he her weeping saw. Then told she him the story. / To her straight made he vow, That Lady Kriemhild's husband / must for the thing atone, Else henceforth should never / a joyous day by him be known. 865 Then came Ortwein and Gernot / where they together spake, And there the knights did counsel / Siegfried's life to take. Thither came eke Giselher, / son of Ute high. When heard he what they counselled, / spake he free from treachery: 866 "Ye good knights and noble, / wherefore do ye that? Ne'er deserved hath Siegfried / in such way your hate, That he therefor should forfeit / at your hands his life. In sooth small matter is it / that maketh cause for woman's strife." 867 "Shall we rear race of bastards?" / Hagen spake again: "Therefrom but little honor / had many a noble thane. The thing that he hath boasted / upon my mistress high, Therefor my life I forfeit, / or he for that same thing shall die." 868 Then spake himself the monarch: / "To us he ne'er did give Aught but good and honor: / let him therefore live. What boots it if my anger / I vent the knight upon? Good faith he e'er hath shown us, / and that full willingly hath done." 869 Then outspake of Metz / Ortwein the thane: "In sooth his arm full doughty / may bring him little gain. My vengeance full he'll suffer, / if but my lord allow." The knights--nor reason had they-- / against him mortal hate did vow. 870 None yet his words did follow, / but to the monarch's ear Ne'er a day failed Hagen / the thought to whisper there: If that lived not Siegfried, / to him would subject be Royal lands full many. / The king did sorrow bitterly. 871 Then did they nothing further: / soon began the play. As from the lofty minster / passed they on their way, What doughty shafts they shattered / Siegfried's spouse before! Gunther's men full many / saw ye there in rage full sore. 872 Spake the king: "Now leave ye / such mortal enmity: The knight is born our honor / and fortune good to be. Keen is he unto wonder, / hath eke so doughty arm That, were the contest open, / none is who dared to work him harm." 873 "Naught shall he know," quoth Hagen. / "At peace ye well may be: I trow the thing to manage / so full secretly That Queen Brunhild's weeping / he shall rue full sore. In sooth shall he from Hagen / have naught but hate for evermore." 874 Then spake the monarch Gunther: / "How might such thing e'er be?" Thereto gave answer Hagen: / "That shalt thou hear from me. We'll bid that hither heralds / unto our land shall fare, Here unknown to any, / who shall hostile tidings bear. 875 "Then say thou 'fore the strangers / that thou with all thy men Wilt forth to meet the enemy. / He'll offer service then If that thus thou sayest, / and lose thereby his life, Can I but learn the story / from the valiant warrior's wife." 876 The king in evil manner / did follow Hagen's rede, And the two knights, ere any / man thereof had heed, Had treachery together / to devise begun. From quarrel of two women / died heroes soon full many a one. FIFTEENTH ADVENTURE How Siegfried was Betrayed 877 Upon the fourth morning / two and thirty men Saw ye to court a-riding. / Unto King Gunther then Were tidings borne that ready / he should make for foe-- This lie did bring to women / many, anon full grievous woe. 878 Leave had they 'fore the monarch's / presence to appear, There to give themselves out / for men of Luedeger, Him erstwhile was conquered / by Siegfried's doughty hand And brought a royal hostage / bound unto King Gunther's land. 879 The messengers he greeted / and to seat them gave command. Then spake one amongst them: / "Allow that yet we stand Until we tell the tidings / that to thee are sent. Know thou that warriors many / on thee to wreak their hate are bent. 880 "Defiance bids thee Luedegast / and eke Luedeger Who at thy hands full sorely / erstwhile aggrieved were: In this thy land with hostile / host they'll soon appear." To rage begin the monarch / when such tidings he did hear. 881 Those who did act thus falsely / they bade to lodge the while. How himself might Siegfried / guard against such guile As there they planned against him, / he or ever one? Unto themselves 'twas sorrow / great anon that e'er 'twas done. 882 With his friends the monarch / secret counsel sought. Hagen of Tronje / let him tarry not. Of the king's men yet were many / who fain would peace restore: But nowise would Hagen / his dark purpose e'er give o'er. 883 Upon a day came Siegfried / when they did counsel take, And there the knight of Netherland / thus unto them spake: "How goeth now so sorrowful / amid his men the king? I'll help you to avenge it, / hath he been wronged in anything." 884 Then spake the monarch Gunther: / "Of right do I lament, Luedegast and Luedeger / have hostile message sent: They will in open manner / now invade my land." The knight full keen gave answer: / "That in sooth shall Siegfried's hand, 885 "As doth befit thy honor, / know well to turn aside. As erstwhile to thy enemies, / shall now from me betide: Their lands and eke their castles / laid waste by me shall be Ere that I give over: / thereof my head be surety. 886 "Thou and thy good warriors / shall here at home abide, And let me with my company / alone against them ride. That I do serve thee gladly, / that will I let them see; By me shall thy enemies, / --that know thou-- full requited be." 887 "Good tidings, that thou sayest," / then the monarch said, As if he in earnest / did joy to have such aid. Deep did bow before him / the king in treachery. Then spake Sir Siegfried: / "Bring that but little care to thee." 888 Then serving-men full many / bade they ready be: 'Twas done alone that Siegfried / and his men the same might see. Then bade he make them ready / the knights of Netherland, And soon did Siegfried's warriors / for fight apparelled ready stand. 889 "My royal father Siegmund, / here shalt thou remain," Spake then Sir Siegfried. / "We come full soon again If God but give good fortune, / hither the Rhine beside; Here shalt thou with King Gunther / full merrily the while abide." 890 Then bound they on the banners / as they thence would fare. Men of royal Gunther / were full many there, Who naught knew of the matter, / or how that thing might be: There with Siegfried saw ye / of knights a mickle company. 891 Their helms and eke their mail-coats / bound on horse did stand: And doughty knights made ready / to fare from out that land. Then went of Tronje Hagen / where he Kriemhild found And prayed a fair leave-taking, / for that to battle they were bound. 892 "Now well is me, such husband / I have," Kriemhild said, "That to my loving kindred / can bring so potent aid, As my lord Siegfried / doth now to friends of me. Thereby," spake the high lady, / "may I full joyous-minded be. 893 "Now full dear friend Hagen, / call thou this to mind, Good-will I e'er have borne thee, / nor hate in any kind. Let now therefrom have profit / the husband dear to me. If Brunhild aught I've injured / may't not to him requited be. 894 "For that I since have suffered," / spake the high lady. "Sore punishment hath offered / therefor the knight to me. That I have aught e'er spoken / to make her sad of mood, Vengeance well hath taken / on me the valiant knight and good." 895 "In the days hereafter shall ye / be reconciled full well. Kriemhild, beloved lady, / to me shalt thou tell How that in Siegfried's person / I may service do to thee. That do I gladly, lady, / and unto none more willingly." 896 "No longer were I fearful," / spake his noble wife, "That e'er in battle any / should take from him his life, Would he but cease to follow / his high undaunted mood: Secure were then forever / the thane full valiant and good." 897 "Lady," spake then Hagen, / "an hast thou e'er a fear That hostile blade should pierce him, / now shalt thou give to hear With what arts of cunning / I may the same prevent. On horse and foot to guard him / shall ever be my fair intent." 898 She spake: "Of my kin art thou, / as I eke of thine. In truth to thee commended / be then dear spouse of mine, That him well thou guardest / whom full dear I hold." She told to him a story / 'twere better had she left untold. 899 She spake: "A valorous husband / is mine, and doughty too. When he the worm-like dragon / by the mountain slew, In its blood the stately / knight himself then bathed, Since when from cutting weapons / in battle is he all unscathed. 900 "Nathless my heart is troubled / when he in fight doth stand, And full many a spear-shaft / is hurled by hero's hand, Lest that I a husband / full dear should see no more. Alack! How oft for Siegfried / must I sit in sorrow sore! 901 "On thy good-will I rest me, / dear friend, to tell to thee, And that thy faith thou fully / provest now to me, Where that my spouse may smitten / be by hand of foe. This I now shall tell thee, / and on thy honor this I do. 902 "When from the wounded dragon / reeking flowed the blood, And therein did bathe him / the valiant knight and good, Fell down between his shoulders / full broad a linden leaf. There may he be smitten; / 'tis cause to me of mickle grief.' 903 Then spake of Tronje Hagen: / "Upon his tunic sew Thou a little token. / Thereby shall I know Where I may protect him / when in the fight we strain." She weened to save the hero, / yet wrought she nothing save his bane. 904 She spake: "All fine and silken / upon his coat I'll sew A little cross full secret. / There, doughty thane, shalt thou From my knight ward danger / when battle rageth sore, And when amid the turmoil / he stands his enemies before." 905 "That will I do," quoth Hagen, / "lady full dear to me." Then weened eke the lady / it should his vantage be, But there alone did Kriemhild / her own good knight betray. Leave of her took Hagen, / and joyously he went away. 906 The followers of the monarch / were all of merry mood. I ween that knight thereafter / never any could Of treachery be guilty / such as then was he When that Queen Kriemhild / did rest on his fidelity. 907 With his men a thousand / upon the following day Rode thence Sir Siegfried / full joyously away. He weened he should take vengeance / for harm his friends did bear. That he might view the tunic / Hagen rode to him full near. 908 When he had viewed the token / sent Hagen thence away Two of his men in secret / who did other tidings say: How that King Gunther's country / had nothing now to fear And that unto the monarch / had sent them royal Luedeger. 909 'Twas little joy to Siegfried / that he must turn again Ere for the hostile menace / vengeance he had ta'en. In sooth the men of Gunther / could scarce his purpose bend. Then rode he to the monarch, / who thus began his thanks to lend: 910 "Now God reward thee for it, / my good friend Siegfried, That thou with mind so willing / hast holpen me in need. That shall I e'er repay thee, / as I may do of right. To thee before all other / friends do I my service plight. 911 "Now that from battle-journey / free we are once more, So will I ride a-hunting / the wild bear and the boar Away to the Vosges forest, / as I full oft have done." The same had counselled Hagen, / the full dark and faithless man. 912 "To all my guests here with me / shall now be told That we ride forth at daybreak: / themselves shall ready hold, Who will join the hunting; / will any here remain For pastime with fair ladies, / the thing behold I eke full fain." 913 Then outspake Sir Siegfried / as in manner due: "If that thou rid'st a-hunting, / go I gladly too. A huntsman shalt thou grant me / and good hound beside That shall the game discover; / so with thee to the green I'll ride." 914 Straightway spake the monarch: / "Wilt thou but one alone? And wilt thou, four I'll grant thee, / to whom full well is known The forest with the runways / where most the game doth stray, And who unto the camp-fires / will help thee back to find thy way." 915 Unto his spouse then rode he, / the gallant knight and bold. Full soon thereafter Hagen / unto the king had told How he within his power / would have the noble thane: May deed so dark and faithless / ne'er by knight be done again! SIXTEENTH ADVENTURE How Siegfried was slain 916 Gunther and Hagen, / the knights full keen, Proposed with evil forethought / a hunting in the green: The boar within the forest / they'd chase with pointed spear, And shaggy bear and bison. / --What sport to valiant men more dear? 917 With them rode also Siegfried / happy and light of heart: Their load of rich refreshments / was made in goodly part. Where a spring ran cooling / they took from him his life, Whereto in chief had urged them / Brunhild, royal Gunther's wife. 918 Then went the valiant Siegfried / where he Kriemhild found; Rich hunting-dress was laden / and now stood ready bound For him and his companions / across the Rhine to go. Than this a sadder hour / nevermore could Kriemhild know. 919 The spouse he loved so dearly / upon the mouth he kissed. "God grant that well I find thee / again, if so He list, And thine own eyes to see me. / 'Mid kin that hold thee dear May now the time go gently, / the while I am no longer near." 920 Then thought she of the story / --but silence must she keep-- Whereof once Hagen asked her: / then began to weep The princess high and noble / that ever she was born, And wept with tears unceasing / the valiant Siegfried's wife forlorn. 921 She spake unto her husband: / "Let now this hunting be. I dreamt this night of evil, / how wild boars hunted thee, Two wild boars o'er the meadow, / wherefrom the flowers grew red. That I do weep so sorely / have I poor woman direst need. 922 "Yea, do I fear, Sir Siegfried, / something treacherous, If perchance have any / of those been wronged by us Who might yet be able / to vent their enmity. Tarry thou here, Sir Siegfried: / let that my faithful counsel be." 923 Quoth he: "I come, dear lady, / when some short days are flown. Of foes who bear us hatred / here know I never one. All of thine own kindred / are gracious unto me, Nor know I aught of reason / why they should other-minded be." 924 "But nay, beloved Siegfried, / thy death I fear 'twill prove. This night I dreamt misfortune, / how o'er thee from above Down there fell two mountains: / I never saw thee more. And wilt thou now go from me, / that must grieve my heart full sore." 925 The lady rich in virtue / within his arms he pressed, And with loving kisses / her fair form caressed. From her thence he parted / ere long time was o'er: Alas for her, she saw him / alive thereafter nevermore. 926 Then rode from thence the hunters / deep within a wold In search of pleasant pastime. / Full many a rider bold Followed after Gunther / in his stately train. Gernot and Giselher, / --at home the knights did both remain. 927 Went many a horse well laden / before them o'er the Rhine, That for the huntsmen carried / store of bread and wine, Meat along with fishes / and other victualling, The which upon his table / were fitting for so high a king. 928 Then bade they make encampment / before the forest green Where game was like to issue, / those hunters proud and keen, Who there would join in hunting, / on a meadow wide that spread. Thither also was come Siegfried: / the same unto the king was said. 929 By the merry huntsmen / soon were watched complete At every point the runways. / The company then did greet Siegfried the keen and doughty: / "Who now within the green Unto the game shall guide us, / ye warriors so bold and keen?" 930 "Now part we from each other," / answered Hagen then, "Ere that the hunting / we do here begin! Thereby may be apparent / to my masters and to me Who on this forest journey / of the hunters best may be. 931 "Let then hounds and huntsmen / be ta'en in equal share, That wheresoever any / would go, there let him fare. Who then is first in hunting / shall have our thanks this day." Not longer there together / did the merry hunters stay. 932 Thereto quoth Sir Siegfried: / "Of dogs have I no need, More than one hound only / of trusty hunting breed For scenting well the runway / of wild beast through the brake. And now the chase begin we!" / --so the spouse of Kriemhild spake. 933 Then took a practised hunter / a good tracking-hound, That did bring them where they / game in plenty found, Nor kept them long awaiting. / Whate'er did spring from lair Pursued the merry huntsmen, / as still good hunters everywhere. 934 As many as the hound started / slew with mighty hand Siegfried the full doughty / hero of Netherland. So swiftly went his charger / that none could him outrun; And praise before all others / soon he in the hunting won. 935 He was in every feature / a valiant knight and true. The first within the forest / that with his hand he slew Was a half-grown wild-boar / that he smote to ground; Thereafter he full quickly / a wild and mighty lion found. 936 When it the hound had started, / with bow he shot it dead, Wherewith a pointed arrow / he had so swiftly sped That the lion after / could forward spring but thrice. All they that hunted with him / cried Siegfried's praise with merry voice. 937 Soon fell a prey unto him / an elk and bison more, A giant stag he slew him / and huge ure-oxen four. His steed bore him so swiftly / that none could him outrun; Of stag or hind encountered / scarce could there escape him one. 938 A boar full huge and bristling / soon was likewise found, And when the same bethought him / to flee before the hound, Came quick again the master / and stood athwart his path. The boar upon the hero / full charged straightway in mickle wrath. 939 Then the spouse of Kriemhild, / with sword the boar he slew, A thing that scarce another / hunter had dared to do. When he thus had felled him / they lashed again the hound, And soon his hunting prowess / was known to all the people round. 940 Then spake to him his huntsmen: / "If that the thing may be, So let some part, Sir Siegfried, / of the forest game go free; To-day thou makest empty / hillside and forest wild." Thereat in merry humor / the thane so keen and valiant smiled. 941 Then they heard on all sides / the din, from many a hound And huntsmen eke the clamor / so great was heard around That back did come the answer / from hill and forest tree-- Of hounds had four-and-twenty / packs been set by hunter free. 942 Full many a forest denizen / from life was doomed to part. Each of all the hunters / thereon had set his heart, To win the prize in hunting. / But such could never be, When they the doughty Siegfried / at the camping-place did see. 943 Now the chase was ended, / --and yet complete 'twas not. All they to camp who wended / with them thither brought Skin of full many an animal / and of game good store. Heigho! unto the table / how much the king's attendants bore! 944 Then bade the king the noble / hunters all to warn That he would take refreshment, / and loud a hunting-horn In one long blast was winded: / to all was known thereby That the noble monarch / at camp did wait their company. 945 Spake one of Siegfried's huntsmen: / "Master, I do know By blast of horn resounding / that we now shall go Unto the place of meeting; / thereto I'll make reply." Then for the merry hunters / blew the horn right lustily. 946 Then spake Sir Siegfried: / "Now leave we eke the green." His charger bore him smoothly, / and followed huntsmen keen. With their rout they started / a beast of savage kind, That was a bear untamed. / Then spake the knight to those behind 947 "For our merry party / some sport will I devise. Let slip the hound then straightway, / a bear now meets my eyes, And with us shall he thither / unto the camp-fire fare. Full rapid must his flight be / shall he our company forbear." 948 From leash the hound was loosened, / the bear sprang through the brake, When that the spouse of Kriemhild / did wish him to o'ertake. He sought a pathless thicket, / but yet it could not be, As bruin fondly hoped it, / that from the hunter he was free. 949 Then from his horse alighted / the knight of spirit high, And gan a running after. / Bruin all unguardedly Was ta'en, and could escape not. / Him caught straightway the knight, And soon all unwounded / had him bound in fetters tight. 950 Nor claws nor teeth availed him / for aught of injury, But bound he was to saddle. / Then mounted speedily The knight, and to the camp-fire / in right merry way For pastime led he bruin, / the hero valiant and gay. 951 In what manner stately / unto the camp he rode! He bore a spear full mickle, / great of strength and broad. A sword all ornamented / hung down unto his spur, And wrought of gold all ruddy / at side a glittering horn he wore. 952 Of richer hunting-garments / heard I ne'er tell before. Black was the silken tunic / that the rider wore, And cap of costly sable / did crown the gallant knight. Heigho, and how his quiver / with well-wrought hands was rich bedight! 953 A skin of gleaming panther / covered the quiver o'er, Prized for its pleasant odor. / Eke a bow he bore, The which to draw if ever / had wished another man, A lever he had needed: / such power had Siegfried alone. 954 Of fur of costly otter / his mantle was complete, With other skins embroidered / from head unto the feet. And 'mid the fur all shining, / full many a golden seam On both sides of the valiant / huntsman saw ye brightly gleam. 955 Balmung, a goodly weapon / broad, he also wore, That was so sharp at edges / that it ne'er forbore To cleave when swung on helmet: / blade it was full good. Stately was the huntsman / as there with merry heart he rode. 956 If that complete the story / to you I shall unfold, Full many a goodly arrow / did his rich quiver hold Whereof were gold the sockets, / and heads a hand-breadth each. In sooth was doomed to perish / whate'er in flight the same did reach. 957 Pricking like goodly huntsman / the noble knight did ride When him the men of Gunther / coming thither spied. They hasted out to meet him / and took from him his steed, As bruin great and mighty / by the saddle he did lead. 958 When he from horse alighted / he loosed him every band From foot and eke from muzzle. / Straight on every hand Began the dogs a howling / when they beheld the bear. Bruin would to the forest: / among the men was mickle stir. 959 Amid the clamor bruin / through the camp-fires sped: Heigho, how the servants / away before him fled! O'erturned was many a kettle / and flaming brands did fly: Heigho, what goodly victuals / did scattered in the ashes lie! 960 Then sprang from out the saddle / knights and serving-men. The bear was wild careering: / the king bade loosen then All the dogs that fastened / within their leashes lay. If this thing well had ended, / then had there passed a merry day. 961 Not longer then they waited / but with bow and eke with spear Hasted the nimble hunters / to pursue the bear, Yet none might shoot upon him / for all the dogs around. Such clamor was of voices / that all the mountain did resound. 962 When by the dogs pursued / the bear away did run, None there that could o'ertake him / but Siegfried alone. With his sword he came upon him / and killed him at a blow, And back unto the camp-fire / bearing bruin they did go. 963 Then spake who there had seen it, / he was a man of might. Soon to the table bade they / come each noble knight, And on a smiling meadow / the noble company sat. Heigho, with what rare victuals / did they upon the huntsmen wait! 964 Ne'er appeared a butler / wine for them to pour. Than they good knights were never / better served before, And had there not in secret / been lurking treachery, Then were the entertainers / from every cause of cavil free. 965 Then spake Sir Siegfried: / "A wonder 'tis to me, Since that from the kitchen / so full supplied are we, Why to us the butlers / of wine bring not like store: If such the huntsman's service / a huntsman reckon me no more. 966 "Meseems I yet did merit / some share of courtesy." The king who sat at table / spake then in treachery: "Gladly shall be amended / wherein we're guilty so. The fault it is of Hagen, / he'd willing see us thirsting go." 967 Then spake of Tronje Hagen: / "Good master, hear me say, I weened for this our hunting / we did go to-day Unto the Spessart forest: / the wine I thither sent. Go we to-day a-thirsting, / I'll later be more provident." 968 Thereto replied Sir Siegfried: / "Small merit here is thine. Good seven horses laden / with mead and sparkling wine Should hither have been conducted. / If aught the same denied, Then should our place of meeting / have nearer been the Rhine beside." 969 Then spake of Tronje Hagen: / "Ye noble knights and bold, I know here nigh unto us / a spring that's flowing cold. Be then your wrath appeased, / and let us thither go." Through that same wicked counsel / came many a thane to grievous woe. 970 Sore was the noble Siegfried / with the pangs of thirst: To bid them rise from table / was he thus the first. He would along the hillside / unto the fountain go: In sooth they showed them traitors, / those knights who there did counsel so. 971 On wagons hence to carry / the game they gave command Which had that day been slaughtered / by Siegfried's doughty hand. He'd carried off the honors, / all who had seen did say. Hagen his faith with Siegfried / soon did break in grievous way. 972 When now they would go thither / to where the linden spread, Spake of Tronje Hagen: / "To me hath oft been said, That none could follow after / Kriemhild's nimble knight Or vie with him in running: / would that he'd prove it to our sight!" 973 Then spake of Netherland / bold Siegfried speedily: "That may ye well have proof of, / will ye but run with me In contest to the fountain. / When that the same be done, To him be given honor / who the race hath fairly won." 974 "Now surely make we trial," / quoth Hagen the thane. Thereto the doughty Siegfried: / "I too will give you gain, Afore your feet at starting / to lay me in the grass." When that he had heard it, / thereat how joyous Gunther was! 975 And spake again the warrior: / "And ye shall further hear: All my clothing likewise / will I upon me wear, The spear and shield full heavy / and hunting-dress I'll don." His sword as well as quiver / had he full quickly girded on. 976 Doffed they their apparel / and aside they laid it then: Clothed in white shirts only / saw you there the twain. Like unto two wild panthers / they coursed across the green: Yet first beside the fountain / was the valiant Siegfried seen. 977 No man in feats of valor / who with him had vied. The sword he soon ungirded / and quiver laid aside, The mighty spear he leaned / against the linden-tree: Beside the running fountain / stood the knight stately to see. 978 To Siegfried naught was lacking / that doth good knight adorn. Down the shield then laid he / where did flow the burn, Yet howsoe'er he thirsted / no whit the hero drank Before had drunk the monarch: / therefor he earned but evil thank. 979 There where ran clear the water / and cool from out the spring, Down to it did bend him / Gunther the king. And when his thirst was quenched / rose he from thence again: Eke the valiant Siegfried, / how glad had he done likewise then. 980 For his courtesy he suffered. / Where bow and sword there lay, Both did carry Hagen / from him thence away, And again sprang quickly thither / where the spear did stand: And for a cross the tunic / of the valiant knight he scanned. 981 As there the noble Siegfried / to drink o'er fountain bent, Through the cross he pierced him, / that from the wound was sent The blood nigh to bespatter / the tunic Hagen wore. By hand of knight such evil / deed shall wrought be nevermore. 982 The spear he left projecting / where it had pierced the heart. In terror as that moment / did Hagen never start In flight from any warrior / he ever yet had found. Soon as the noble Siegfried / within him felt the mighty wound, 983 Raging the knight full doughty / up from the fountain sprang, The while from 'twixt his shoulders / stood out a spearshaft long. The prince weened to find there / his bow or his sword: Then in sooth had Hagen / found the traitor's meet reward. 984 When from the sorely wounded / knight his sword was gone, Then had he naught to 'venge him / but his shield alone. This snatched he from the fountain / and Hagen rushed upon, And not at all escape him / could the royal Gunther's man. 985 Though he nigh to death was wounded / he yet such might did wield That out in all directions / flew from off the shield Precious stones a many: / the shield he clave in twain. Thus vengeance fain had taken / upon his foe the stately thane. 986 Beneath his hand must Hagen / stagger and fall to ground. So swift the blow he dealt him, / the meadow did resound. Had sword in hand been swinging, / Hagen had had his meed, So sorely raged he stricken: / to rage in sooth was mickle need. 987 Faded from cheek was color, / no longer could he stand, And all his might of body / soon complete had waned, As did a deathly pallor / over his visage creep. Full many a fairest lady / for the knight anon must weep. 988 So sank amid the flowers / Kriemhild's noble knight, While from his wound flowed thickly / the blood before the sight. Then gan he reviling / --for dire was his need-- Who had thus encompassed / his death by this same faithless deed. 989 Then spake the sorely wounded: / "O ye base cowards twain, Doth then my service merit / that me ye thus have slain? To you I e'er was faithful / and so am I repaid. Alas, upon your kindred / now have ye shame eternal laid. 990 "By this deed dishonored / hereafter evermore Are their generations. / Your anger all too sore Have ye now thus vented / and vengeance ta'en on me. With shame henceforth be parted / from all good knights' company." 991 All the hunters hastened / where he stricken lay, It was in sooth for many / of them a joyless day. Had any aught of honor, / he mourned that day, I ween, And well the same did merit / the knight high-spirited and keen. 992 As there the king of Burgundy / mourned that he should die, Spake the knight sore wounded: / "To weep o'er injury, Who hath wrought the evil / hath smallest need, I trow. Reviling doth he merit, / and weeping may he well forego." 993 Thereto quoth grim Hagen: / "Ye mourn, I know not why: This same day hath ended / all our anxiety. Few shall we find henceforward / for fear will give us need, And well is me that from his / mastery we thus are freed." 994 "Light thing is now thy vaunting," / did Siegfried then reply. "Had I e'er bethought me / of this thy infamy Well had I preserved / 'gainst all thy hate my life. Me rueth naught so sorely / as Lady Kriemhild my wife. 995 "Now may God have mercy / that to me a son was born, That him alack!, the people / in times to come shall spurn, That those he nameth kinsmen / have done the murderer's deed. An had I breath," spake Siegfried, / "to mourn o'er this I well had need." 996 Then spake, in anguish praying, / the hero doomed to die: "An wilt thou, king, to any / yet not good faith deny, In all the world to any, / to thee commended be And to thy loving mercy / the spouse erstwhile was wed to me. 997 "Let it be her good fortune / that she thy sister is: By all the princely virtues, / I beg thee pledge me this. For me long time my father / and men henceforth must wait: Upon a spouse was never / wrought, as mine, a wrong so great." 998 All around the flowers / were wetted with the blood As there with death he struggled. / Yet not for long he could, Because the deadly weapon / had cut him all too sore: And soon the keen and noble / knight was doomed to speak no more. 999 When the lords perceived / how that the knight was dead, Upon a shield they laid him / that was of gold full red, And counsel took together / how of the thing should naught Be known, but held in secret / that Hagen the deed had wrought. 1000 Then spake of them a many: / "This is an evil day. Now shall ye all conceal it / and all alike shall say, When as Kriemhild's husband / the dark forest through Rode alone a-hunting, / him the hand of robber slew." 1001 Then spake of Tronje Hagen: / "Myself will bring him home. In sooth I reck but little / if to her ears it come, Who my Lady Brunhild / herself hath grieved so sore. It maketh me small worry, / an if she weep for evermore." SEVENTEENTH ADVENTURE How Kriemhild mourned for Siegfried, and How he was Buried 1002 There till the night they tarried / and o'er the Rhine they went. By knights in chase might never / more evil day be spent; For the game that there they hunted / wept many a noble maid. In sooth by many a valiant / warrior must it since be paid. 1003 Of humor fierce and wanton / list now and ye shall hear, And eke of direst vengeance. / Hagen bade to bear Siegfried thus lifeless, / of the Nibelung country, Unto a castle dwelling / where Lady Kriemhild found might be. 1004 He bade in secret manner / to lay him there before Where she should surely find him / when she from out the door Should pass to matins early, / ere that had come the day. In sooth did Lady Kriemhild / full seldom fail the hour to pray. 1005 When, as was wont, in minster / the bell to worship bade, Kriemhild, fair lady, wakened / from slumber many a maid: A light she bade them bring her / and eke her dress to wear. Then hither came a chamberlain / who Siegfried's corse found waiting there. 1006 He saw him red and bloody, / all wet his clothing too. That it was his master, / in sooth no whit he knew. On unto the chamber / the light in hand he bore, Whereby the Lady Kriemhild / did learn what brought her grief full sore. 1007 When she with train of ladies / would to the minster go, Then spake the chamberlain: / "Pause, I pray thee now: Here before thy dwelling / a noble knight lies slain." Thereat gan Lady Kriemhild / in grief unmeasured sore to plain. 1008 Ere yet that 'twas her husband / she did rightly find, Had she Hagen's question / begun to call to mind, How might he protect him: / then first did break her heart, For all her joy in living / did with his death from her depart. 1009 Unto the earth then sank she / ere she a word did say, And reft of all her pleasure / there the fair lady lay. Soon had Kriemhild's sorrow / all measure passed beyond: She shrieked, when past the swooning, / that did the chamber all resound. 1010 Then spake her attendants: / "What if't a stranger were?" From out her mouth the heart-blood / did spring from anguish sore. Then spake she: "It is Siegfried / my husband, other none: This thing hath counselled Brunhild, / and Hagen's hand the deed hath done." 1011 The lady bade them lead her / where did lie the knight, And his fair head she raised / with her hand full white. Red though it was and bloody / she knew him yet straightway, As all forlorn the hero / of Nibelungenland there lay. 1012 Then cried the queen in anguish, / whose hand such wealth might wield: "O woe is me for sorrow! / Yet is not thy shield With blow of sword now battered, / but murdered dost thou lie. And knew I who hath done it, / by my counsel should he die." 1013 All of her attendants / did weep and wail enow With their beloved mistress, / for filled they were with woe For their noble master / whom they should see no more. For anger of Queen Brunhild / had Hagen wrought revenge full sore. 1014 Then spake Kriemhild sorrowing: / "Hence now the message take, And all the men of Siegfried / shall ye straightway awake. Unto Siegmund likewise / tell ye my sorrow deep, If that he will help me / for the doughty Siegfried weep." 1015 Then ran straightway a messenger / and soon he found at hand, Siegfried's valiant warriors / of Nibelungenland. Of joy he all bereft him / with tale that he did bear, Nor would they aught believe it / till sound of weeping met their ear. 1016 The messenger came eke quickly / where the king did lie, Yet closed was not in sleeping / the monarch Siegmund's eye: I ween his heart did tell him / the thing that there had been, And that his dear son living / might nevermore by him be seen. 1017 "Awake, awake, Lord Siegmund. / Hither hath sent for thee Kriemhild my mistress. / A wrong now beareth she, A grief that 'fore all others / unto her heart doth go: To mourn it shalt thou help her, / for sorely hast thou need thereto." 1018 Up raised himself then Siegmund. / He spake: "What may it be Of wrong that grieveth Kriemhild, / as thou hast told to me?" The messenger spake weeping: / "Now may I naught withhold: Know thou that of Netherland / Siegfried brave lies slain and cold." 1019 Thereto gave answer Siegmund: / "Let now such mocking be And tale of such ill tidings / --an thou regardest me-- As that thou say'st to any / now he lieth slain: An were it so, I never / unto my end might cease to plain." 1020 "Wilt thou now believe not / the tidings that I bear, So may'st thyself the Lady / Kriemhild weeping hear, And all of her attendants, / that Siegfried lieth dead." With terror filled was Siegmund: / whereof in very sooth was need. 1021 He and his men a hundred / from their beds they sprang, Then snatched in hand full quickly / swords both sharp and long, And toward the sound of weeping / in sorrow sore did speed. There came a thousand warriors / eke of the valiant knight Siegfried. 1022 When they heard the women weeping / in such sore distress Thought some, strict custom keeping, / we first must don our dress. In sooth for very sorrow / their wits no more had they, For on their hearts a burden / of grief full deep and heavy lay. 1023 Then came the monarch Siegmund / where he Kriemhild espied. He spake: "Alack that ever / to this country I did ride! Who in such wondrous manner, / and while good friends are near, Hath of my child bereft me / and thee of spouse thou hold'st so dear?" 1024 "Ah, might I him discover," / spake the lady high, "Evermore would mercy / I to him deny. Such meed of vengeance should he / at my hands receive That all who call him kinsman / reason good should have to grieve." 1025 Siegmund the monarch / in arms the knight did press, And of his friends there gathered / so great was the distress, That from the mighty wailing / palace and wide hall And Worms the city likewise / with sound of woe re-echoed all. 1026 None was who aught might comfort / the wife of Siegfried there. They drew the knight's attire / from off his body fair, From wounds the blood, too, washed they / and laid him on the bier. Then from all his people / a mighty wailing might ye hear. 1027 Then outspake his warriors / of Nibelungenland: "Until he be avenged / rest shall not our hand. He is within this castle / who the deed hath done." Then rushed to find their weapons / Siegfried's warriors every one. 1028 The knights of chosen valor / with shields did thither throng, Eleven hundred warriors, / that did to train belong Of Siegmund the monarch. / That his son lay dead, Would he wreak dire vengeance, / whereof in very sooth was need. 1029 Yet knew they not whom should they / beset in battle then, If it were not Gunther / and with him his men With whom their lord Siegfried / unto the hunting rode. Yet filled with fear was Kriemhild / when she beheld how armed they stood. 1030 How great soe'er her sorrow / and stern the grief she bore, Yet for the Nibelungen / feared she death full sore From her brother's warriors, / and bade them hold their wrath. She gave them kindly warning / as friend to friend beloved doth. 1031 Then spake she rich in sorrow: / "What thing beginnest thou, Good my lord Siegmund? / This case thou dost not know. In sooth hath here King Gunther / so many a valiant knight, Lost are ye all together, / will ye the thanes withstand in fight." 1032 With shields upraised they ready / for the fight did stand. But the queen full noble / did straightway give command To those high knights, and prayed them, / their purpose to give o'er. That she might not dissuade them, / in sooth to her was sorrow sore. 1033 Spake she thus: "Lord Siegmund, / thou shalt this thing let be Until more fitting season. / Seek will I e'er with thee Full to avenge my husband. / Who him from me hath ta'en, An I shall know him guilty, / in me shall surely find his bane. 1034 "Of warriors proud and mighty / are many here by Rhine, Therefore will I advise not / the struggle to begin. For one that we can muster / good thirty men have they; As unto us their dealing, / God them requite in equal way. 1035 "Here shall ye bide with me / and help my grief to bear; Soon as dawns the morning, / ye noble knights and rare, Help me my loved husband / prepare for burial." "That shall be done full willing," / spake the doughty warriors all. 1036 To you could never any / full the wonder say, Of knights and noble ladies, / so full of grief were they, That the sound of wailing / through the town was heard afar, Whereat the noble burghers / hastily did gather there. 1037 With the guests they mourned together, / for sore they grieved as well. What was the guilt of Siegfried / none to them might tell, Wherefore the knight so noble / thus his life should lose. Then wept with the high ladies / many a worthy burgher's spouse. 1038 Smiths they bade a casket / work full hastily All of gold and silver / that great and strong should be. They bade them fast to weld it / with bands of steel full good. Then saw ye all the people / stand right sorrowful of mood. 1039 Now the night was over, / for day, they said, drew near. Then bade the noble lady / unto the minster bear Siegfried her lord full loved / for whom she mourned so. Whoe'er was friend unto him, / him saw ye weeping thither go. 1040 As they brought him to the minster / bells full many rung. On every hand then heard ye / how priests did chant their song. Thither with his followers / came Gunther the king And eke the grim knight Hagen / where was sound of sorrowing. 1041 He spake: "Full loving sister, / alack for grief to thee, And that from such great evil / spared we might not be! Henceforth must we ever / mourn for Siegfried's sake." "That do ye without reason," / full of woe the lady spake. 1042 "If that ye grieved for it, / befallen were it not. For say I may full truly, / me had ye all forgot There where I thus was parted / from my husband dear. Would it God," spake Kriemhild, / "that done unto myself it were!" 1043 Fast they yet denied it. / Kriemhild spake again: "If any speak him guiltless, / let here be seen full plain. Unto the bier now shall he / before the people go; Thus the truth full quickly / may we in this manner know." 1044 It is a passing wonder / that yet full oft is seen, Where blood-bespotted slayer / beside slain corse hath been, That from the wounds come blood-drops, / as here it eke befell. Thereby the guilt of Hagen / might they now full plainly tell. 1045 Now ran the wounds all bloody /like as they did before. Who erstwhile wept full sorely / now wept they mickle more. Then spake the monarch Gunther: / "To thee the truth be known: Slain hath he been by robbers, / nor is this deed by Hagen done." 1046 "Of these same robbers," spake she, / "full well I understand. God give that yet may vengeance / wreak some friendly hand. Gunther and Hagen, / yourselves have done this deed." Then looked for bloody conflict / the valiant thanes that served Siegfried. 1047 Then spake unto them Kriemhild: / "Now bear with me my need." Knights twain came likewise hither / and did find him dead,-- Gernot her brother / and the young Giselher. With upright hearts then joined they / with the others grief to share. 1048 They mourned for Kriemhild's husband / with hearts all full of woe. A mass should then be chanted: / to the minster forth did go Man and child and woman / gathered from every side. E'en they did likewise mourn him / who little lost that Siegfried died. 1049 Gernot and Giselher spake: / "O Sister dear, Now comfort thee in sorrow, / for death is ever near. Amends we'll make unto thee / the while that we shall live." In the world might never any / unto her a comfort give. 1050 His coffin was made ready / about the middle day. From off the bier they raised him / whereupon he lay. But yet would not the lady / let him be laid in grave. Therefor must all the people / first a mickle trouble have. 1051 In a shroud all silken / they the dead man wound. I ween that never any / that wept not might be found. There mourned full of sorrow / Ute the queen full high And all of her attendants / that such a noble knight did die. 1052 When did hear the people / how they in minster sung, And that he there lay coffined, / came then a mickle throng: For his soul's reposing / what offerings they bore! E'en amid his enemies / found he of good friends a store. 1053 Kriemhild the poor lady / to her attendants spake: "Let them shun no trouble / to suffer for my sake, Who to him are friendly-minded / and me in honor hold; For the soul of Siegfried / meted be to them his gold." 1054 Child so small there was not, / did it but reason have, But offering carried thither. / Ere he was laid in grave, More than a hundred masses / upon the day they sung, Of all the friends of Siegfried / was gathered there a mickle throng. 1055 When were the masses over, / the folk departed soon. Then spake the Lady Kriemhild: / "Leave ye me not alone To pass the night in watching / by this chosen thane now dead, With whose passing from me / all my joy of life hath fled. 1056 "Three days and three nights further / shall he lie on bier, Until my heart find quiet / that weeps for spouse so dear. God perchance commandeth / that death eke me do take: That were for me poor Kriemhild / fit end of all my woe to make." 1057 Then of the town the people / went to their homes again. Priests and monks yet bade she / longer there remain, And all the hero's followers / who willing served alway. They watched a night all gruesome, / and full of toil was eke the day. 1058 Meat and drink forgetting / abode there many a one. If any were would take it / 'twas unto all made known, That have they might in plenty: / thus did provide Siegmund. Then for the Nibelungen / did trouble and sore need abound. 1059 The while the three days lasted / --such the tale we hear-- All who could join the chanting, / mickle must they bear There of toil and trouble. / What gifts to them they bore! Rich were seen full many / who did suffer need before. 1060 As many poor as found they / who themselves had naught, By them yet an offering / bade they there be brought, Of gold of Siegfried's treasure. / Though he no more might live, Yet for his soul's reposing / marks many thousand did they give. 1061 Land of fruitful income / bestowed Kriemhild around, Wheresoever cloisters / and worthy folk were found. Silver and apparel / to the poor she gave in store, And in good manner showed she / that truest love to him she bore. 1062 Upon the third morning / at the mass' tide Was there beside the minster / filled the church-yard wide With country-folk a-weeping / that came from far and near: In death they yet did serve him / as is meet for friend full dear. 1063 And so it hath been told us, / ere these four days were o'er, Marks full thirty thousand, / yea, in sooth, and more, For his soul's reposing / to the poor were given there: The while that lay all broken / his life and eke his body fair. 1064 When ended was the service / and full the masses sung, In unrestrained sorrow / there the flock did throng. They bade that from the minster / he to the grave be borne. Them that fain had kept him / there beheld ye weep and mourn. 1065 Thence full loud lamenting / did the people with him pass. Unmoved there never any / nor man nor woman was. Ere that in grave they laid him / chanted they and read. What host of priests full worthy / at his burial were gathered! 1066 Ere that the wife of Siegfried / was come unto the grave, With water from the fountain / full oft her face they lave, So struggled with her sorrow / the faithful lady fair. Great beyond all measure / was the grief that she did bear. 1067 It was a mickle wonder / that e'er her life she kept. Many a lady was there / that helped her as she wept. Then spake the queen full noble: / "Ye men that service owe To Siegfried, as ye love me, / now to me a mercy show. 1068 "Upon this sorrow grant ye / the little grace to me That I his shining visage / yet once more may see." So filled she was with anguish / and so long time she sought, Perforce they must break open / the casket all so fairly wrought. 1069 Where she did see him lying / they then the lady led. With hand full white and spotless / raised she his fair head; Then kissed she there all lifeless / the good and noble knight,-- And wept so that for sorrow / ran blood from out her eyes so bright. 1070 Mournful was the parting / that then did rend the twain. Thence away they bore her, / nor might she walk again, But in a swoon did senseless / the stately lady lie. In sooth her winsome body / for sorrow sore was like to die. 1071 When they the knight full noble / now in the grave had laid, Beheld ye every warrior / beyond all measure sad That with him was come hither / from Nibelung country. Full seldom joyous-hearted / might ye royal Siegmund see. 1072 And many were among them / that for sorrow great Till three days were over / did nor drink nor eat. Yet might they not their bodies / long leave uncared-for so: For food they turned from mourning / as people still are wont to do. EIGHTEENTH ADVENTURE How Siegmund fared Home Again 1073 Then went royal Siegmund / where he Kriemhild found. Unto the queen spake he: / "Home must we now be bound. We ween that guests unwelcome / here are we by the Rhine. Kriemhild, beloved lady, / come now to country that is mine. 1074 "Though from us hath been taken / by foul traitor's hand Thy good spouse and noble / here in stranger land, Thine be it not to suffer: / good friend thou hast in me For sake of son beloved: / thereof shalt thou undoubting be. 1075 "Eke shalt thou have, good lady, / all the power to hold, The which erstwhile hath shown thee / Siegfried the thane full bold. The land and the crown likewise, / be they thine own to call, And gladly eke shall serve thee / Siegfried's doughty warriors all." 1076 Then did they tell the servants / that they thence would ride, And straight to fetch the horses / these obedient hied. 'Mid such as so did hate them / it grieved them more to stay: Ladies high and maidens / were bidden dress them for the way. 1077 When that for royal Siegmund / stood ready horse and man, Her kinsmen Lady Kriemhild / to beseech began That she from her mother / would still forbear to go. Then spake the lofty lady: / "That might hardly yet be so. 1078 "How might I for ever / look with eyes upon Him that to me, poor woman, / such evil thing hath done?" Then spake the youthful Giselher: / "Sister to me full dear, By thy goodness shalt thou / tarry with thy mother here." 1079 "Who in this wise have harmed thee / and so grieved thy heart, Thyself may'st spurn their service: / of what is mine take part." Unto the knight she answered: / "Such thing may never be. For die I must for sorrow / when that Hagen I should see." 1080 "From need thereof I'll save thee, / sister full dear to me, For with thy brother Giselher / shalt thou ever be. I'll help to still thy sorrow / that thy husband lieth dead." Then spake she sorrow-stricken: / "Thereof in sooth had Kriemhild need." 1081 When that the youthful Giselher / such kindly offer made, Then her mother Ute / and Gernot likewise prayed, And all her faithful kinsmen, / that she would tarry there: For that in Siegfried's country / but few of her own blood there were. 1082 "To thee they all are strangers," / did Gernot further say. Nor lived yet man so mighty / but dead at last he lay. Bethink thee that, dear sister, / in comfort of thy mood. Stay thou amid thy kinsmen, / I counsel truly for thy good." 1083 To Giselher she promised / that she would tarry there. For the men of Siegmund / the horses ready were, When they thence would journey / to the Nibelungen land: On carrying-horses laden / the knights' attire did ready stand. 1084 Went the royal Siegmund / unto Kriemhild then; He spake unto the lady: / "Now do Siegfried's men Await thee by the horses. / Straight shall we hence away, For 'mid the men of Burgundy / unwilling would I longer stay." 1085 Then spake the Lady Kriemhild: / "My friends have counselled me, That by the love I bear them, / here my home shall be, For that no kinsmen have I / in the Nibelungen land." Grieved full sore was Siegmund / when he did Kriemhild understand. 1086 Then spake the royal Siegmund: / "To such give not thine ear, A queen 'mid all my kinsmen, / thou a crown shalt wear And wield as lordly power / as e'er till now thou hast. Nor thou a whit shalt forfeit, / that we the hero thus have lost. 1087 "And journey with us thither, / for child's sake eke of thine: Him shalt thou never, lady, / an orphan leave to pine. When hath grown thy son to manhood, / he'll comfort thee thy mood. Meanwhile shall ready serve thee / many a warrior keen and good." 1088 She spake: "O royal Siegmund, / I may not thither ride, For I here must tarry, / whate'er shall me betide, 'Mid them that are my kinsmen, / who'll help my grief to share." The knights had sore disquiet / that such tidings they must hear. 1089 "So might we say full truly," / spake they every one, "That unto us still greater / evil now were done, Would'st thou longer tarry / here amid our foes: In sooth were never journey / of knights to court more full of woes." 1090 "Now may ye free from trouble / in God's protection fare: I'll bid that trusty escort / shall you have in care Unto Siegmund's country. / My child full dear to me, Unto your knights' good mercy / let it well commended be." 1091 When that they well perceived / how she would not depart, Wept all the men of Siegmund / and sad they were at heart. In what right heavy sorrow / Siegmund then took leave Of the Lady Kriemhild! / Full sore thereover must he grieve. 1092 "Woe worth this journey hither," / the lofty monarch spake. "Henceforth from merry meeting / shall nevermore o'ertake King or his faithful kinsmen / what here our meed hath been. Here 'mid the men of Burgundy / may we never be more seen." 1093 Then spake the men of Siegfried / in open words and plain: "An might we right discover / who our lord hath slain, Warriors bent on vengeance / shall yet lay waste this ground. Among his kin in plenty / may doughty foemen be found." 1094 Anon he kissed Kriemhild / and spake sorrowfully, When she there would tarry, / and he the same did see: "Now ride we joy-forsaken / home unto our land. First now what 'tis to sorrow / do I rightly understand." 1095 From Worms away sans escort / unto the Rhine they rode: I ween that they full surely / did go in such grim mood, That had against them any / aught of evil dared, Hand of keen Nibelungen / had known full well their life to guard. 1096 Nor parting hand they offered / to any that were there. Then might ye see how Gernot / and likewise Giselher Did give him loving greeting. / That as their very own They felt the wrong he suffered, / by the courteous knights and brave was shown. 1097 Then spake in words full kindly / the royal knight Gernot: "God in heaven knoweth / that of guilt I've naught In the death of Siegfried, / that e'er I e'en did hear Who here to him were hostile. / Well may I of thy sorrow share." 1098 An escort safe did furnish / the young knight Giselher: Forth from out that country / he led them full of care, The monarch with his warriors, / to Netherland their home. How joyless is the greeting / as thither to their kin they come! 1099 How fared that folk thereafter, / that can I nowise say. Here heard ye Kriemhild plaining / as day did follow day, That none there was to comfort / her heart and sorry mood, Did Giselher not do it; / he faithful was to her and good. 1100 The while the fair Queen Brunhild / in mood full haughty sat, And weep howe'er did Kriemhild, / but little recked she that, Nor whit to her of pity / displayed she evermore. Anon was Lady Kriemhild / eke cause to her of sorrow sore. NINETEENTH ADVENTURE How the Nibelungen Hoard was Brought to Worms 1101 When that the noble Kriemhild / thus did widowed stand, Remained there with his warriors / by her in that land Eckewart the margrave, / and served her ever true. And he did help his mistress / oft to mourn his master too. 1102 At Worms a house they built her / the minster high beside, That was both rich and spacious, / full long and eke full wide, Wherein with her attendants / joyless did she dwell. She sought the minster gladly, / --that to do she loved full well. 1103 Seldom undone she left it, / but thither went alway In sorry mood where buried / her loved husband lay. God begged she in his mercy / his soul in charge to keep, And, to the thane right faithful, / for him full often did she weep. 1104 Ute and her attendants / all times a comfort bore, But yet her heart was stricken / and wounded all so sore That no whit might avail it / what solace e'er they brought. For lover taken from her / with such grief her heart was fraught, 1105 As ne'er for spouse beloved / a wife did ever show. Thereby how high in virtue / she stood ye well might know. She mourned until her ending / and while did last her life. Anon a mighty vengeance / wreaked the valiant Siegfried's wife. 1106 And so such load of sorrow / for her dead spouse she bore, The story sayeth truly, / for years full three or more, Nor ever unto Gunther / any word spake she, And meantime eke her enemy / Hagen never might she see. 1107 Then spake of Tronje Hagen: / "Now seek'st thou such an end, That unto thee thy sister / be well-disposed friend? Then Nibelungen treasure / let come to this country: Thereof thou much might'st win thee, / might Kriemhild friendly-minded be." 1108 He spake: "Be that our effort. / My brothers' love hath she: Them shall we beg to win her / that she our friend may be, And that she gladly see it / that we do share her store." "I trow it well," spake Hagen, / "may such thing be nevermore." 1109 Then did he Ortwein / unto the court command And the margrave Gere. / When both were found at hand, Thither brought they Gernot / and eke young Giselher. In friendly manner sought they / to win the Lady Kriemhild there. 1110 Then spake of Burgundy / Gernot the warrior strong: "Lady, the death of Siegfried / thou mournest all too long. Well will the monarch prove thee / that him he ne'er hath slain. 'Tis heard how that right sorely / thou dost for him unending plain." 1111 She spake: "The king none chargeth: / t'was Hagen's hand that slew. When Hagen me did question / where might one pierce him through, How might e'er thought come to me / that hate his heart did bear? Then 'gainst such thing to guard me," / spake she, "had I ta'en good care. 1112 "And kept me from betraying / to evil hands his life, Nor cause of this my weeping / had I his poor lorn wife. My heart shall hate forever / who this foul deed have done." And further to entreat her / young Giselher had soon begun. 1113 When that to greet the monarch / a willing mind spake she, Him soon with noble kinsmen / before her might ye see. Yet dare might never Hagen / unto her to go: On her he'd wrought sore evil, / as well his guilty mind did know. 1114 When she no hatred meted / unto Gunther as before, By Hagen to be greeted / were fitting all the more. Had but by his counsel / no ill to her been done, So might he all undaunted / unto Kriemhild have gone. 1115 Nor e'er was peace new offered / kindred friends among Sealed with tears so many. / She brooded o'er her wrong. To all she gave her friendship / save to one man alone. Nor slain her spouse were ever, / were not the deed by Hagen done. 1116 Small time it was thereafter / ere they did bring to pass That with the Lady Kriemhild / the mighty treasure was, That from Nibelungen country / she brought the Rhine unto. It was her bridal portion / and 'twas fairly now her due. 1117 For it did journey thither / Gernot and Giselher. Warriors eighty hundred / Kriemhild commanded there That they should go and fetch it / where hidden it did lie, And where the good thane Alberich / with friends did guard it faithfully. 1118 When saw they coming warriors / from Rhine the hoard to take, Alberich the full valiant / to his friends in this wise spake: "We dare not of the treasure / aught from them withhold: It is her bridal portion, / --thus the noble queen hath told. 1119 "Yet had we never granted," / spake Alberich, "this to do, But that in evil manner / the sightless mantle too With the doughty Siegfried / we alike did lose, The which did wear at all times / the fair Kriemhild's noble spouse. 1120 "Now alas hath Siegfried / had but evil gain That from us the sightless mantle / the hero thus hath ta'en, And so hath forced to serve him / all these lands around." Then went forth the porter / where full soon the keys he found. 1121 There stood before the mountain / ready Kriemhild's men, And her kinsmen with them. / The treasure bore they then Down unto the water / where the ships they sought: To where the Rhine flowed downward / across the waves the hoard they brought. 1122 Now of the treasure further / may ye a wonder hear: Heavy wains a dozen / scarce the same might bear In four days and nights together / from the mountain all away, E'en did each one of them / thrice the journey make each day. 1123 In it was nothing other / than gold and jewels rare. And if to every mortal / on earth were dealt a share, Ne'er 'twould make the treasure / by one mark the less. Not without good reason / forsooth would Hagen it possess. 1124 The wish-rod lay among them, / of gold a little wand. Whosoe'er its powers / full might understand, The same might make him master / o'er all the race of men. Of Alberich's kin full many / with Gernot returned again. 1125 When they did store the treasure / in King Gunther's land, And to royal Kriemhild / 'twas given 'neath her hand, Storing-rooms and towers / could scarce the measure hold. Nevermore such wonder / might of wealth again be told. 1126 And had it e'en been greater, / yea a thousandfold, If but again might Kriemhild / safe her Siegfried hold, Fain were she empty-handed / of all the boundless store. Spouse than she more faithful / won a hero nevermore. 1127 When now she had the treasure, / she brought into that land Knights many from far distance. / Yea, dealt the lady's hand So freely that such bounty / ne'er before was seen. High in honor held they / for her goodly heart the queen. 1128 Unto both rich and needy / began she so to give That fearful soon grew Hagen, / if that she would live Long time in such high power, / lest she of warriors true Such host might win to serve her, / that cause would be her strength to rue. 1129 Spake Gunther then: / "The treasure is hers and freedom too. Wherefore shall I prevent her, / whate'er therewith she do? Yea, nigh she did her friendship / from me evermore withhold. Now reck we not who shareth / or her silver or her gold." 1130 Unto the king spake Hagen: / "No man that boasteth wit Should to any woman / such hoard to hold permit. By gifts she yet will bring it / that will come the day When valiant men of Burgundy / rue it with good reason may." 1131 Then spake the monarch Gunther: / "To her an oath I swore, That I would cause of evil / to her be nevermore, Whereof henceforth I'll mind me: / sister she is to me." Then spake further Hagen: / "Let me bear the guilt for thee." 1132 Many they were that kept not / there their plighted word: From the widow took they / all that mighty hoard: Every key had Hagen / known to get in hand. Rage filled her brother Gernot / when he the thing did understand. 1133 Then spake the knight Giselher: / "Hagen here hath wrought Sore evil to my sister: / permit this thing I'll not. And were he not my kinsman, / he'd pay it with his life." Anew did fall aweeping / then the doughty Siegfried's wife. 1134 Then spake the knight Gernot: / "Ere that forever we Be troubled with this treasure, / let first commanded be Deep in the Rhine to sink it, / that no man have it more." In sad manner plaining / Kriemhild stood Giselher before. 1135 She spake: "Beloved brother, / be mindful thou of me: What life and treasure toucheth / shalt thou my protector be." Then spake he to the lady: / "That shall sure betide, When we again come hither: / now called we are away to ride." 1136 The monarch and his kinsmen / rode from out the land, And in his train the bravest / ye saw on any hand: Went all save Hagen only, / and there he stayed for hate, That he did bear to Kriemhild, / and full gladly did he that. 1137 Ere that the mighty monarch / was thither come again, In that while had Hagen / all that treasure ta'en. Where Loch is by the river / all in the Rhine sank he. He weened thereof to profit, / yet such thing might never be. 1138 The royal knights came thither / again with many a man. Kriemhild with her maidens / and ladies then began To mourn the wrong they suffered, / that pity was to hear. Fain had the faithful Giselher / been unto her a comforter. 1139 Then spake they all together: / "Done hath he grievous wrong." But he the princes' anger / avoided yet so long At last to win their favor. / They let him live sans scathe. Then filled thereat was Kriemhild / as ne'er before with mickle wrath. 1140 Ere that of Tronje Hagen / had hidden thus the hoard, Had they unto each other / given firm plighted word, That it should lie concealed / while one of them might live. Thereof anon nor could they / to themselves nor unto other give. 1141 With renewed sorrows / heavy she was of heart That so her dear-loved husband / perforce from life must part, And that of wealth they reft her. / Therefor she mourned alway, Nor ever ceased her plaining / until was come her latest day. 1142 After the death of Siegfried / dwelt she in sorrow then, --Saith the tale all truly-- / full three years and ten, Nor in that time did ever / for the knight mourn aught the less. To him she was right faithful, / must all the folk of her confess. TWENTIETH ADVENTURE How King Etzel sent to Burgundy for Kriemhild 1143 In that same time when ended / was Lady Helke's life, And that the monarch Etzel / did seek another wife, To take a highborn widow / of the land of Burgundy Hun his friends did counsel: / Lady Kriemhild hight was she. 1144 Since that was ended / the fair Helke's life, Spake they: "Wilt thou ever / win for thee noble wife, The highest and the fairest / that ever king did win, Take to thee this same lady / that doughty Siegfried's spouse hath been." 1145 Then spake the mighty monarch: / "How might that come to pass Since that I am a heathen, / nor named with sign of cross? The lady is a Christian, / thereto she'll ne'er agree. Wrought must be a wonder, / if the thing may ever be." 1146 Then spake again his warriors: / "She yet may do the same. For sake of thy great power / and thy full lofty name Shalt thou yet endeavor / such noble wife to gain. To woo the stately lady / might each monarch high be fain." 1147 Then spake the noble monarch: / "Who is 'mong men of mine, That knoweth land and people / dwelling far by Rhine?" Spake then of Bechelaren / the trusty Ruediger: "I have known from childhood / the noble queen that dwelleth there. 1148 "And Gunther and Gernot, / the noble knights and good, And hight the third is Giselher: / whatever any should That standeth high in honor / and virtue, doth each one: Eke from eld their fathers / have in like noble manner done." 1149 Then spake again Etzel: / "Friend, now shalt thou tell, If she within my country / crown might wear full well-- For be she fair of body / as hath been told to me, My friends for this their counsel / shall ever full requited be." 1150 "She likeneth in beauty / well my high lady, Helke that was so stately. / Nor forsooth might be In all this world a fairer / spouse of king soe'er. Whom taketh she for wooer, / glad of heart and mind he were." 1151 He spake: "Make trial, Ruediger, / as thou hold'st me dear. And if by Lady Kriemhild / e'er I lie full near, Therefor will I requite thee / as in best mode I may: So hast thou then fulfilled / all my wish in fullest way. 1152 "Stores from out my treasure / I'll bid to thee to give, That thou with thy companions / merry long shalt live, Of steeds and rich apparel / what thou wilt have to share. Thereof unto thy journey / I'll bid in measure full prepare." 1153 Thereto did give him answer / the margrave Ruediger: "Did I thy treasure covet / unworthy thing it were. Gladly will I thy messenger / be unto the Rhine, From my own store provided: / all have I e'en from hand of thine." 1154 Then spake the mighty monarch: / "When now wilt thou fare To seek the lovely lady? / God of thee have care To keep thee on thy journey / and eke a wife to me. Therein good fortune help me, / that she to us shall gracious be." 1155 Then again spake Ruediger: / "Ere that this land we quit, Must we first prepare us / arms and apparel fit, That we may thus in honor / in royal presence stand. To the Rhine I'll lead five hundred / warriors, a doughty band. 1156 "Wherever they in Burgundy / me and my men may see, Shall they all and single / then confess of thee That ne'er from any monarch / so many warriors went As now to bear thy message / thou far unto the Rhine hast sent. 1157 "May it not, O mighty monarch, / thee from thy purpose move: Erstwhile unto Siegfried / she gave her noble love, Who scion is of Siegmund: / him thou here hast seen. Worthy highest honor / verily the knight had been." 1158 Then answered him King Etzel: / "Was she the warrior's wife, So worthy was of honor / the noble prince in life, That I the royal lady / therefor no whit despise. 'Tis her surpassing beauty / that shall be joy unto mine eyes." 1159 Then further spake the margrave: / "Hear then what I do say: After days four-and-twenty / shall we from hence away. Tidings to Gotelinde / I'll send, my spouse full dear, That I to Lady Kriemhild / myself will be thy messenger." 1160 Away to Bechelaren / sent then Ruediger. Both sad his spouse and joyous / was the news to hear. He told how for the monarch / a wife he was to woo: With love she well remembered / the fair Lady Helke too. 1161 When that the margravine / did the message hear, In part 'twas sorrow to her, / and weep she must in fear At having other mistress / than hers had been before. To think on Lady Helke / did grieve her inmost heart full sore. 1162 Ruediger from Hunland / in seven days did part, Whereat the monarch Etzel / merry was of heart. When at Vienna city / all was ready for the way, To begin the journey / might he longer not delay. 1163 At Bechelaren waited / Gotelinde there, And eke the young margravine, / daughter of Ruediger, Was glad at thought her father / and all his men to see. And many a lovely maiden / looked to the coming joyfully. 1164 Ere that to Bechelaren / rode noble Ruediger From out Vienna city, / was rich equipment there For them in fullest measure / on carrying-horses brought, That went in such wise guarded / that robber hand disturbed them not. 1165 When they at Bechelaren / within the town did stand, His fellows on the journey / did the host command To lead to fitting quarters / and tend carefully. The stately Gotelinde, / glad she was her spouse to see. 1166 Eke his lovely daughter / the youthful margravine,-- To her had nothing dearer / than his coming been. The warriors too from Hunland, / what joy for her they make! With a laughing spirit / to all the noble maiden spake: 1167 "Be now to us right welcome, / my father and all his men." Fairest thanks on all sides / saw ye offered then Unto the youthful margravine / by many a valiant knight. How Ruediger was minded / knew Gotelinde aright. 1168 When then that night she / by Ruediger lay, Questioned him the margravine / in full loving way, Wherefore had sent him thither / the king of Hunland. He spake: "My Lady Gotelinde, / that shalt thou gladly understand. 1169 "My master now hath sent me / to woo him other wife, Since that by death was ended / the fair Helke's life. Now will I to Kriemhild / ride unto the Rhine: She shall here in Hunland / be spouse to him and stately queen." 1170 "God will it," spake Gotelinde, / "and well the same might be, Since that so high in honor / ever standeth she. The death of my good mistress / we then may better bear; Eke might we grant her gladly / among the Huns a crown to wear." 1171 Then spake to her the margrave: / "Thou shalt, dear lady mine, To them that shall ride with me / thither unto the Rhine, In right bounteous manner / deal out a goodly share. Good knights go lighter-hearted / when they well provided fare." 1172 She spake: "None is among them, / an he would take from me, But I will give whatever / to him may pleasing be, Ere that ye part thither, / thou and thy good men." Thereto spake the margrave: / "So dost thou all my wishes then." 1173 Silken stuffs in plenty / they from her chamber bore, And to the knights full noble / dealt out in goodly store, Mantles lined all richly / from collar down to spur. What for the journey pleased him / did choose therefrom Sir Ruediger. 1174 Upon the seventh morning / from Bechelaren went The knight with train of warriors. / Attire and armament Bore they in fullest measure / through the Bavarian land, And ne'er upon the journey / dared assail them robber band. 1175 Unto the Rhine then came they / ere twelve days were flown, And there were soon the tidings / of their coming known. 'Twas told unto the monarch / and with him many a man, How strangers came unto him. / To question then the king began, 1176 If any was did know them, / for he would gladly hear. They saw their carrying-horses / right heavy burdens bear: That they were knights of power / knew they well thereby. Lodgings they made them ready / in the wide city speedily. 1177 When that the strangers / had passed within the gate Every eye did gaze on / the knights that came in state, And mickle was the wonder / whence to the Rhine they came. Then sent the king for Hagen, / if he perchance might know the same. 1178 Then spake he of Tronje: / "These knights I ne'er have seen, Yet when we now behold them / I'll tell thee well, I ween, From whence they now ride hither / unto this country. An I not straightway know them, / from distant land in sooth they be." 1179 For the guests fit lodgings / now provided were. Clad in rich apparel / came the messenger, And to the court his fellows / did bear him company. Sumptuous attire / wore they, wrought full cunningly. 1180 Then spake the doughty Hagen: / "As far as goes my ken, For that long time the noble / knight I not have seen, Come they in such manner / as were it Ruediger, The valiant thane from Hunland, / that leads the stately riders here." 1181 Then straightway spake the monarch: / "How shall I understand That he of Bechelaren / should come unto this land?" Scarce had King Gunther / his mind full spoken there, When saw full surely Hagen / that 'twas the noble Ruediger. 1182 He and his friends then hastened / with warmest welcoming. Then saw ye knights five hundred / adown from saddle spring, And were those knights of Hunland / received in fitting way. Messengers ne'er beheld ye / attired in so fine array. 1183 Hagen of Tronje, / with voice full loud spake he: "Unto these thanes full noble / a hearty welcome be, To the lord of Bechelaren / and his men every one." Thereat was fitting honor / done to every valiant Hun. 1184 The monarch's nearest kinsmen / went forth the guests to meet. Of Metz the knight Sir Ortwein / Ruediger thus did greet: "The while our life hath lasted, / never yet hath guest Here been seen so gladly: / be that in very truth confessed." 1185 For that greeting thanked they / the brave knights one and all. With train of high attendants / they passed unto the hall, Where valiant men a many / stood round the monarch's seat. The king arose from settle / in courteous way the guests to greet. 1186 Right courteously he greeted / then the messenger. Gunther and Gernot, / full busy both they were For stranger and companions / a welcome fit to make. The noble knight Sir Ruediger / by the hand the king did take. 1187 He led him to the settle / where himself he sat: He bade pour for the strangers / (a welcome work was that) Mead the very choicest / and the best of wine, That e'er ye might discover / in all the lands about the Rhine. 1188 Giselher and Gere / joined the company too, Eke Dankwart and Volker, / when that they knew The coming of the strangers: / glad they were of mood, And greeted 'fore the monarch / fair the noble knights and good. 1189 Then spake unto his master / of Tronje the knight: "Let our thanes seek ever / fully to requite What erstwhile the margrave / in love to us hath done: Fair Gotelinde's husband / our gratitude full well hath won." 1190 Thereto spake King Gunther: / "Withhold it not I may. How they both do bear them, / tell me now, I pray, Etzel and Helke / afar in Hunland." Then answered him the margrave: / "Fain would I have thee understand." 1191 Then rose he from the settle / and his men every one. He spake unto the monarch: / "An may the thing be done, And is't thy royal pleasure, / so will I naught withhold, But the message that I bring thee / shall full willingly be told." 1192 He spake: "What tale soever, / doth this thy message make, I grant thee leave to tell it, / nor further counsel take. Now shalt thou let us hear it, / me and my warriors too, For fullest leave I grant thee / thy high purpose to pursue." 1193 Then spake the upright messenger: / "Hither to thee at Rhine Doth faithful service tender / master high of mine; To all thy kinsmen likewise, / as many as may be: Eke is this my message / borne in all good will to thee. 1194 "To thee the noble monarch / bids tell his tale of need. His folk 's forlorn and joyless; / my mistress high is dead, Helke the full stately / my good master's wife, Whereby now is orphaned / full many a fair maiden's life, 1195 "Children of royal parents / for whom hath cared her hand: Thereby doth the country / in plight full sorry stand. Alack, nor is there other / that them with love may tend. I ween the time long distant / eke when the monarch's grief shall end." 1196 "God give him meed," spake Gunther, / "that he so willingly Doth offer thus good service / to my kinsmen and to me-- I joy that I his greeting / here have heard this day-- The which with glad endeavor / my kinsmen and my men shall pay." 1197 Thereto the knight of Burgundy, / the valiant Gernot, said: "The world may ever rue it / that Helke fair lies dead, So manifold the virtues / that did her life adorn." A willing testimony / by Hagen to the words was borne. 1198 Thereto again spake Ruediger / the noble messenger: "Since thou, O king, dost grant it, / shalt thou now further hear What message 'tis my master / beloved hath hither sent, For that since death of Helke / his days he hath in sorrow spent. 1199 "'Tis told my lord that Kriemhild / doth widowed live alone, And dead is doughty Siegfried. / May now such thing be done, And wilt thou grant that favor, / a crown she then shall wear Before the knights of Etzel: / this message from my lord I bear." 1200 Then spake the mighty monarch / --a king he was of grace-- "My will in this same matter / she'll hear, an so she please. Thereof will I instruct thee / ere three days are passed by-- Ere I her mind have sounded, / wherefore to Etzel this deny?" 1201 Meanwhile for the strangers / bade they make cheer the best In sooth so were they tended / that Ruediger confessed He had 'mong men of Gunther / of friends a goodly store. Hagen full glad did serve him, / as he had Hagen served of yore. 1202 Thus there did tarry Ruediger / until the third day. The king did counsel summon / --he moved in wisest way-- If that unto his kinsmen / seemed it fitting thing, That Kriemhild take unto her / for spouse Etzel the king. 1203 Together all save Hagen / did the thing advise, And unto King Gunther / spake he in this wise: "An hast thou still thy senses, / of that same thing beware, That, be she ne'er so willing, / thou lend'st thyself her will to share." 1204 "Wherefore," spake then Gunther, / "should I allow it not? Whene'er doth fortune favor / Kriemhild in aught, That shall I gladly grant her, / for sister dear is she. Yea, ought ourselves to seek it, / might it but her honor be." 1205 Thereto gave answer Hagen: / "Now such words give o'er. Were Etzel known unto thee / as unto me of yore, And did'st thou grant her to him, / as 'tis thy will I hear, Then wouldst thou first have reason / for thy later weal to fear." 1206 "Wherefore?" spake then Gunther. / "Well may I care for that, E'er to thwart his temper / that so I aught of hate At his hands should merit, / an if his wife she be." Thereto gave answer Hagen: / "Such counsel hast thou ne'er of me." 1207 Then did they bid for Gernot / and Giselher to go, For wished they of the royal / twain their mind to know, If that the mighty monarch / Kriemhild for spouse should take. Yet Hagen and none other / thereto did opposition make. 1208 Then spake of Burgundy / Giselher the thane: "Well may'st thou now, friend Hagen, / show upright mind again: For sorrows wrought upon her / may'st thou her well requite. Howe'er she findeth fortune, / ne'er should it be in thy despite." 1209 "Yea, hast thou to my sister / so many sorrows done," So spake further Giselher, / the full noble thane, "That fullest reason hath she / to mete thee naught but hate. In sooth was never lady / than she bereft of joy more great." 1210 "What I do know full certain, / that known to all I make: If e'er shall come the hour / that she do Etzel take, She'll work us yet sore evil, / howe'er the same she plan. Then in sooth will serve her / full many a keen and doughty man." 1211 In answer then to Hagen / the brave Gernot said: "With us doth lie to leave it / until they both be dead, Ere that we ride ever / unto Etzel's land. That we be faithful to her / doth honor meantime sure command." 1212 Thereto again spake Hagen: / "Gainsay me here may none. And shall the noble Kriemhild / e'er sit 'neath Helke's crown, Howe'er she that accomplish, / she'll do us grievous hurt. Good knights, therefrom to keep you / doth better with your weal consort." 1213 In anger spake then Giselher / the son of Ute the fair: "None shall yet among us / himself like traitor bear. What honor e'er befall her, / rejoice thereat should we. Whate'er thou sayest, Hagen, / true helper shall she find in me." 1214 When that heard it Hagen / straightway waxed he wroth. Gernot and Giselher / the knights high-minded both, And Gunther, mighty monarch, / did counsel finally, If that did wish it Kriemhild, / by them 'twould unopposed be. 1215 Then spake the margrave Gere: / "That lady will I tell How that of royal Etzel / she may think full well. In fear are subject to him / brave warriors many a one: Well may he recompense her / for wrong that e'er to her was done." 1216 Then went the knight full valiant / where he did Kriemhild find, And straightway spake unto her / upon her greeting kind: "Me may'st thou gladly welcome / with messengers high meed. Fortune hath come to part thee / now from all thy bitter need. 1217 "For sake of love he bears thee, / lady, doth seek thy hand One of all the highest / that e'er o'er monarch's land Did rule in fullest honor, / or ever crown might wear: High knights do bring the message, / which same thy brother bids thee hear." 1218 Then spake she rich in sorrow: / "Now God forbid to thee And all I have of kinsmen / that aught of mockery They do on me, poor woman. / What were I unto one, Who e'er at heart the joyance / of a noble wife hath known?" 1219 Much did she speak against it. / Anon as well came there Gernot her brother / and the young Giselher. In loving wise they begged her / her mourning heart to cheer: An would she take the monarch, / verily her weal it were. 1220 Yet might not then by any / the lady's mind be bent, That any man soever / to love she would consent. Thereon the thanes besought her: / "Now grant the thing to be, An dost thou nothing further, / that the messenger thou deign'st to see." 1221 "That will I not deny you," / spake the high lady, "That the noble Ruediger / I full gladly see, Such knightly grace adorns him. / Were he not messenger, And came there other hither / by him I all unspoken were." 1222 She spake: "Upon the morrow / bid him hither fare Unto this my chamber. / Then shall he fully hear How that do stand my wishes, / the which I'll tell him true." Of her full grievous sorrow / was she minded thus anew. 1223 Eke not else desired / the noble Ruediger Than that by the lady / leave thus granted were: He knew himself so skilful, / might he such favor earn, So should he her full certain / from her spoken purpose turn. 1224 Upon the morrow early / when that the mass was sung Came the noble messengers, / whereof a mickle throng. They that should Sir Ruediger / to court bear company, Many a man full stately / in rich apparel might ye see. 1225 Kriemhild, dame high-stated, / --full sad she was of mood-- There Ruediger awaited, / the noble knight and good. He found her in such raiment / as daily she did wear: The while were her attendants / in dresses clad full rich and rare, 1226 Unto the threshold went she / the noble guest to meet, And the man of Etzel / did she full kindly greet. Twelve knights there did enter, / himself and eleven more, And well were they received: / to her such guests came ne'er before. 1227 The messenger to seat him / and his men they gave command. The twain valiant margraves / saw ye before her stand, Eckewart and Gere, / the noble knights and keen, Such was the lady's sorrow, / none saw ye there of cheerful mien. 1228 They saw before her sitting / full many a lady fair, And yet the Lady Kriemhild / did naught but sorrow there. The dress upon her bosom / was wet with tears that fell, And soon the noble margrave / perceived her mickle grief full well. 1229 Then spake the lofty messenger: / "Daughter of king full high, To me and these my fellows / that bear me company Deign now the grace to grant us / that we before thee stand And tell to thee the tidings / wherefore we rode unto thy land." 1230 "That grace to thee is granted," / spake the lofty queen; "Whate'er may be thy message, / I'll let it now be seen That I do hear it gladly: / thou'rt welcome messenger." That fruitless was their errand / deemed the others well to hear. 1231 Then spake of Bechelaren / the noble Ruediger: "Pledge of true love unto thee / from lofty king I bear, Etzel who bids thee, lady, / here royal compliment: He hath to woo thy favor / knights full worthy hither sent. 1232 "His love to thee he offers / full heartily and free: Fidelity that lasteth / he plighteth unto thee, As erst to Lady Helke / who o'er his heart held sway. Yea, thinking on her virtues / hath he full oft had joyless day." 1233 Then spake the royal lady: / "O Margrave Ruediger, If that known to any / my sharp sorrows were, Besought then were I never / again to take me spouse. Such ne'er was won by lady / as the husband I did lose." 1234 "What is that sootheth sorrow," / the valiant knight replied, "An be't not loving friendship / whene'er that may betide, And that each mortal choose him / who his delight shall be? Naught is that so availeth / to keep the heart from sorrow free. 1235 "Wilt thou minded be to love him, / this noble master mine, O'er mighty crowns a dozen / the power shall be thine. Thereto of princes thirty / my lord shall give thee land, The which hath all subdued / the prowess of his doughty hand. 1236 "O'er many a knight full worthy / eke mistress shalt thou be That my Lady Helke / did serve right faithfully, And over many a lady / that served amid her train, Of high and royal lineage," / spake the keen and valiant thane. 1237 "Thereto my lord will give thee / --he bids to thee make known-- If that beside the monarch / thou deign'st to wear a crown, Power in fullest measure / that Helke e'er might boast: The same in lordly manner / shalt thou wield o'er Etzel's host." 1238 Then spake the royal lady: / "How might again my life Have thereof desire / to be a hero's wife? Hath death in one already / wrought me such sorrows sore, That joyless must my days be / from this time for evermore." 1239 Then spake the men of Hunland: / "O royal high lady, Thy life shall there by Etzel / so full of honor be Thy heart 'twill ever gladden / if but may be such thing: Full many a thane right stately / doth homage to the mighty king. 1240 "Might but Helke's maidens / and they that wait on thee E'er be joined together / in one royal company, Well might brave knights to see them / wax merry in their mood. Be, lady, now persuaded / --'tis verily thy surest good." 1241 She spake in courteous manner: / "Let further parley be Until doth come the morrow. / Then hither come to me. So will I give my answer / to bear upon your way." The noble knights and worthy / must straight therein her will obey. 1242 When all from thence were parted / and had their lodgings sought, Then bade the noble lady / that Giselher be brought, And eke with him her mother. / To both she then did tell That meet for her was weeping, / and naught might fit her mood so well. 1243 Then spake her brother Giselher: / "Sister, to me 'tis told-- And well may I believe it-- / that thy grief manifold Etzel complete will scatter, / an tak'st thou him for man. Whate'er be other's counsel, / meseems it were a thing well done." 1244 Further eke spake Giselher: / "Console thee well may he. From Rhone unto Rhine river, / from Elbe unto the sea, King there is none other / that holds so lordly sway. An he for spouse do take thee, / gladden thee full well he may." 1245 "Brother loved full dearly, / wherefore dost counsel it? To mourn and weep forever / doth better me befit. How may I 'mid warriors / appear in royal state? Was ever fair my body, / of beauty now 'tis desolate." 1246 Then spake the Lady Ute / her daughter dear unto: "The thing thy brother counsels, / my loving child, that do. By thy friends be guided, / then with thee well 'twill be. Long time it now hath grieved me / thee thus disconsolate to see." 1247 Then prayed she God with fervor / that he might her provide With store of gold and silver / and raiment rich beside, As erstwhile when her husband / did live a stately thane: Since then so happy hour / never had she known again. 1248 In her own bosom thought she: / "An shall I not deny My body to a heathen / --a Christian lady I-- So must I while life lasteth / have shame to be my own. An gave he realms unnumbered, / such thing by me might ne'er be done." 1249 And there withal she left it. / The night through until day, Upon her couch the lady / with mind full troubled lay. Nor yet her eyes full shining / of tears at all were free, Until upon the morrow / forth to matins issued she. 1250 When for mass was sounded, / came there the kings likewise. Again did they their sister / by faithful word advise To take for spouse unto her / of Hunland the king. All joyless was the visage / they saw the lady thither bring. 1251 They bade the men of Etzel / thither lead again, Who unto their country / fain their leave had ta'en, Their message won or fruitless, / how that soe'er might be. Unto the court came Ruediger. / Full eager were his company 1252 By the knight to be informed / how the thing befell, And if betimes they knew it / 'twould please them all full well, For weary was the journey / and long unto their land. Soon did the noble Ruediger / again in Kriemhild's presence stand. 1253 In full earnest manner / then the knight gan pray The high royal lady / that she to him might say What were from her the message / to Etzel he should bear. Naught but denial only / did he from the lady hear, 1254 For that her love might never / by man again be won. Thereto spake the margrave: / "Ill such thing were done. Wherefore such fair body / wilt thou to ruin give? Spouse of knight full worthy / may'st thou yet in honor live." 1255 Naught booted how they besought her, / till that Ruediger Spake in secret manner / in the high lady's ear, How Etzel should requite her / for ills she e'er did know. Then gan her mickle sorrow / milder at the thought to grow. 1256 Unto the queen then spake he: / "Let now thy weeping be. If 'mong the Huns hadst thou / other none than me And my faithful kinsmen / and my good men alone, Sorely must he repay it / who hath aught to thee of evil done." 1257 Thereat apace all lighter / the lady's sorrow grew, She spake: "So swear thou truly, / what any 'gainst me do, That thou wilt be the foremost / my sorrows to requite." Thereto spake the margrave: / "Lady, to thee my word I plight." 1258 With all his men together / sware then Ruediger Faithfully to serve her, / and in all things whatsoe'er Naught would e'er deny her / the thanes from Etzel's land, Whereof she might have honor: / thereto gave Ruediger his hand. 1259 Then thought the faithful lady: / "Since I thus have won Band of friends so faithful, / care now have I none How shall speak the people / in my sore need of me. The death of my loved husband / perchance shall yet avenged be." 1260 Thought she: "Since hath Etzel / so many knights and true, An shall I but command them, / whate'er I will I do. Eke hath he such riches / that free may be my hand: Bereft of all my treasure / by Hagen's faithless art I stand." 1261 Then spake she unto Ruediger: / "Were it not, as I do know, The king is yet a heathen, / so were I fain to go Whithersoe'er he willed it, / and take him for my lord." Thereto spake the margrave: / "Lady, no longer hold such word. 1262 "Such host he hath of warriors / who Christians are as we, That beside the monarch / may care ne'er come to thee. Yea, may he be baptized / through thee to Christian life: Well may'st thou then rejoice thee / to be the royal Etzel's wife." 1263 Then spake again her brother: / "Sister, thy favor lend, That now all thy sorrow / thereby may have an end." And so long they besought her / that full of sadness she Her word at length had plighted / the monarch Etzel's wife to be. 1264 She spake: "You will I follow, / I most lorn lady, That I fare to Hunland, / as soon as it may be That I friends have ready / to lead me to his land." Before the knights assembled / fair Kriemhild pledged thereto her hand. 1265 Then spake again the margrave: / "Two knights do serve thee true, And I thereof have many: / 'tis easy thing to do, That thee with fitting honor / across the Rhine we guide. Nor shalt thou, lady, longer / here in Burgundy abide. 1266 "Good men have I five hundred, / and eke my kinsmen stand Ready here to serve thee / and far in Etzel's land, Lady, at thy bidding. / And I do pledge the same, Whene'er thou dost admonish, / to serve thee without cause for shame. 1267 "Now bid with full equipment / thy horses to prepare: Ruediger's true counsel / will bring thee sorrow ne'er; And tell it to thy maidens / whom thou wilt take with thee. Full many a chosen warrior / on the way shall join our company." 1268 They had full rich equipment / that once their train arrayed The while that yet lived Siegfried, / so might she many a maid In honor high lead with her, / as she thence would fare. What steeds all rich caparisoned / awaited the high ladies there! 1269 If till that time they ever / in richest dress were clad, Thereof now for their journey / full store was ready made, For that they of the monarch / had such tidings caught. From chests longtime well bolted / forth the treasures rich were brought. 1270 Little were they idle / until the fifth day, But sought rich dress that folded / secure in covers lay. Kriemhild wide did open / all her treasure there, And largess great would give she / unto the men of Ruediger. 1271 Still had she of the treasure / of Nibelungenland, (She weened the same in Hunland / to deal with bounteous hand) So great that hundred horses / ne'er the whole might bear. How stood the mind of Kriemhild, / came the tidings unto Hagen's ear. 1272 He spake: "Since Kriemhild never / may me in favor hold, E'en so here must tarry / Siegfried's store of gold. Wherefore unto mine enemies / such mickle treasure go? What with the treasure Kriemhild / intendeth, that full well I know. 1273 "Might she but take it thither, / in sooth believe I that, 'Twould be dealt out in largess / to stir against me hate. Nor own they steeds sufficient / the same to bear away. 'Twill safe be kept by Hagen / --so shall they unto Kriemhild say." 1274 When she did hear the story, / with grief her heart was torn. Eke unto the monarchs / all three the tale was borne. Fain would they prevent it: / yet when that might not be, Spake the noble Ruediger / in this wise full joyfully: 1275 "Wherefore, queen full stately, / weep'st thou o'er this gold? For thee will King Etzel / in such high favor hold When but his eyes behold thee, / to thee such store he'll give That ne'er thou may'st exhaust it: / that, lady, by my word believe." 1276 Thereto the queen gave answer: / "Full noble Ruediger, Greater treasure never / king's daughter had for share Than this that Hagen from me / now hath ta'en away." Then went her brother Gernot / to the chamber where the treasure lay. 1277 With force he stuck the monarch's / key into the door, And soon of Kriemhild's treasure / they from the chamber bore Marks full thirty thousand / or e'en more plenteously. He bade the guests to take it, / which pleased King Gunther well to see. 1278 Then Gotelinde's husband / of Bechelaren spake: "An if my Lady Kriemhild / with her complete might take What treasure e'er came hither / from Nibelungenland, Ne'er a whit would touch it / mine or my royal lady's hand. 1279 "Now bid them here to keep it, / for ne'er the same I'll touch. Yea brought I from my country / of mine own wealth so much, That we upon our journey / may be full well supplied, And ne'er have lack in outlay / as in state we homeward ride." 1280 Chests well filled a dozen / from the time of old Had for their own her maidens, / of the best of gold That e'er ye might discover: / now thence away 'twas borne, And jewels for the ladies / upon the journey to be worn. 1281 Of the might she yet was fearful / of Hagen grim and bold. Still had she of mass-money / a thousand marks in gold, That gave she for the soul's rest / of her husband dear. Such loving deed and faithful / did touch the heart of Ruediger. 1282 Then spake the lady mournful: / "Who now that loveth me, And for the love they bear me / may willing exiles be, Who with me to Hunland / now away shall ride? Take they of my treasure / and steeds and meet attire provide." 1283 Then did the margrave Eckewart / answer thus the queen: "Since I from the beginning / of thy train have been, Have I e'er right faithful / served thee," spake the thane, "And to the end I'll ever / thus faithful unto thee remain. 1284 "Eke will I lead with me / five hundred of my men, Whom I grant to serve thee / in faithful way again. Nor e'er shall we be parted / till that we be dead." Low bowing thanked him Kriemhild, / as verily might be his meed. 1285 Forth were brought the horses, / for that they thence would fare. Then was a mickle weeping / of friends that parted there. Ute, queen full stately, / and many a lady more Showed that from Lady Kriemhild / to part did grieve their hearts full sore. 1286 A hundred stately maidens / with her she led away, And as for them was fitting, / full rich was their array. Many a bitter tear-drop / from shining eye fell down: Yet joys knew they full many / eke in Etzel's land anon. 1287 Thither came Sir Giselher / and Gernot as well, And with them train of followers, / as duty did compel. Safe escort would they furnish / for their dear sister then, And with them led of warriors / a thousand brave and stately men. 1288 Then came the valiant Gere, / and Ortwein eke came he: Rumold the High Steward / might not absent be. Unto the Danube did they / night-quarters meet provide. Short way beyond the city / did the royal Gunther ride. 1289 Ere from the Rhine they started / had they forward sent Messengers that full quickly / unto Hunland went, And told unto the monarch / how that Ruediger For spouse at length had won him / the high-born queen beyond compare. TWENTY-FIRST ADVENTURE How Kriemhild fared to the Huns 1290 The messengers leave we riding. / Now shall ye understand How did the Lady Kriemhild / journey through the land, And where from her were parted / Gernot and Giselher. Upon her had they waited / as faithful unto her they were. 1291 As far as to the Danube / at Vergen did they ride, Where must be the parting / from their royal sister's side, For that again they homeward / would ride unto the Rhine. No eye but wet from weeping / in all the company was seen. 1292 Giselher the valiant / thus to his sister said: "If that thou ever, lady, / need hast of my aid, And fronts thee aught of trouble, / give me to understand, And straight I'll ride to serve thee / afar unto King Etzel's land." 1293 Upon the mouth then kissed she / all her friends full dear. The escort soon had taken / eke leave of Ruediger And the margrave's warriors / in manner lovingly. With the queen upon her journey / went many a maid full fair to see. 1294 Four beyond a hundred / there were, all richly clad In silk of cunning pattern. / Many a shield full broad On the way did guard the ladies / in hand of valiant thane. Full many a stately warrior / from thence did backward turn again. 1295 Thence away they hastened / down through Bavarian land. Soon were told the tidings / how that was at hand A mickle host of strangers, / where a cloister stands from yore And where the Inn its torrent / doth into Danube river pour. 1296 At Passau in the city / a lordly bishop bode. Empty soon each lodging / and bishop's palace stood: To Bavarian land they hastened / the high guests to meet, And there the Bishop Pilgrim / the Lady Kriemhild fair did greet. 1297 The warriors of that country / no whit grieved they were Thus to see follow with her / so many a maiden fair. Upon those high-born ladies / their eyes with joy did rest, Full comfortable quarters / prepared they for each noble guest. 1298 With his niece the bishop / unto Passau rode. When among the burghers / the story went abroad, That thither was come Kriemhild, / the bishop's niece full fair, Soon did the towns-people / reception meet for her prepare. 1299 There to have them tarry / was the bishop fain. To him spake Sir Eckewart: / "Here may we not remain. Unto Ruediger's country / must we journey down. Thanes many there await us, / to whom our coming well is known." 1300 The tidings now knew likewise / Lady Gotelinde fair. Herself and noble daughter / did them quick prepare. Message she had from Ruediger / that he well pleased would be, Should she unto Lady / Kriemhild show such courtesy, 1301 That she ride forth to meet her, / and bring his warriors true Upward unto the Ense. / When they the tidings knew, Saw ye how on all sides / they thronged the busy way. Forth to meet the strangers / rode and eke on foot went they. 1302 As far as Everdingen / meanwhile was come the queen: In that Bavarian country / on the way were never seen Robbers seeking plunder, / as e'er their custom was: Of fear from such a quarter / had the travellers little cause. 1303 'Gainst that had well provided / the noble margrave: A band he led that numbered / good thousand warriors brave. There was eke come Gotelinde, / spouse of Ruediger, And bearing her high company / full many noble knights there were. 1304 When came they o'er the Traune / by Ense on the green, There full many an awning / outstretched and tent was seen, Wherein that night the strangers / should find them welcome rest. Well was made provision / by Ruediger for each high guest. 1305 Not long fair Gotelinde did in her quarters stay, But left them soon behind her. / Then coursed upon the way With merry jingling bridle / many a well-shaped steed. Full fair was the reception: / whereat was Ruediger right glad. 1306 On one side and the other / did swell the stately train Knights that rode full gaily, / many a noble thane. As they in joust disported, / full many a maid looked on, Nor to the queen unwelcome / was the riders' service done. 1307 As rode there 'fore the strangers / the men of Ruediger, From shaft full many a splinter / saw ye fly in air In hand of doughty warrior / that jousted lustily. Them might ye 'fore the ladies / pricking in stately manner see. 1308 Anon therefrom they rested. / Knights many then did greet Full courteously each other. / Then forth Kriemhild to meet Went the fair Gotelinde, / by gallant warriors led. Those skilled in lady's service, / --little there the rest they had. 1309 The lord of Bechelaren / unto his lady rode. Soon the noble margravine / her high rejoicing showed, That all safe and sound he / from the Rhine was come again. The care that filled her bosom / by mickle joy from her was ta'en. 1310 When him she had received, / her on the green he bade Dismount with all the ladies / that in her train she led. There saw ye all unidle / many a knight of high estate, Who with full ready service / upon the ladies then did wait. 1311 Then saw the Lady Kriemhild / the margravine where she stood Amid her fair attendants: / nearer not she rode. Upon the steed that bore her / the rein she drew full tight, And bade them straightway help her / adown from saddle to alight. 1312 The bishop saw ye leading / his sister's daughter fair, And with him eke went Eckewart / to Gotelinde there. The willing folk on all sides / made way before their feet. With kiss did Gotelinde / the dame from land far distant greet. 1313 Then spake in manner kindly / the wife of Ruediger; "Right glad am I, dear lady, / that I thy visage fair Have in this our country / with mine own eyes seen. In these times might never / greater joy to me have been." 1314 "God give thee meed," spake Kriemhild, / "Gotelinde, for this grace. If with son of Botelung / happy may be my place, May it henceforth be thy profit / that me thou here dost see." Yet all unknown to either / was that which yet anon must be. 1315 With curtsy to each other / went full many a maid, The knights a willing service / unto the ladies paid. After the greeting sat they / adown upon the green; Knew many then each other / that hitherto had strangers been. 1316 For the ladies they poured refreshment. / Now was come mid-day, And did those high attendants / there no longer stay, But went where found they ready / many a spreading tent. Full willing was the service / unto the noble guests they lent. 1317 The night through until morning / did they rest them there. They of Bechelaren / meanwhile did prepare That into fitting quarters / each high guest be brought. 'Twas by the care of Ruediger / that never one did want for aught. 1318 Open ye saw the windows / the castle walls along, And the burgh at Bechelaren / its gates wide open flung, As through the guests went pricking, / that there full welcome were. For them the lord full noble / had bidden quarters meet prepare. 1319 Ruediger's fair daughter / with her attendant train Came forth in loving manner / to greet the lofty queen. With her was eke her mother / the stately margravine; There full friendly greeting / of many a maiden fair was seen. 1320 By the hand they took each other / and thence did pass each pair Into a Hall full spacious, / the which was builded fair, And 'neath its walls the Danube / flowed down with rushing tide. As breezes cool played round them, / might they full happy there abide. 1321 What they there did further, / tell it not I can. That they so long did tarry, / heard ye the knights complain That were of Kriemhild's company, / who unwilling there abode. What host of valiant warriors / with them from Bechelaren rode! 1322 Full kindly was the service / did render Ruediger, Likewise gave Lady Kriemhild / twelve golden armbands rare To Gotelinde's daughter, / and dress so richly wrought That finer was none other / that into Etzel's land she brought. 1323 Though Nibelungen treasure / from her erstwhile was ta'en, Good-will of all that knew her / did she e'er retain With such little portion / as yet she did command. Unto her host's attendants / dealt she thereof with bounteous hand. 1324 The Lady Gotelinde / such honors high again Did pay in gracious manner / to the guests afar from Rhine That of all the strangers / found ye never one That wore not rich attire / from her, and many a precious stone. 1325 When they their fast had broken / and would thence depart, The lady of the castle / did pledge with faithful heart Unto the wife of Etzel / service true to bear. Kriemhild caressed full fondly / the margravine's young daughter fair. 1326 To the queen then spake the maiden: / "If e'er it pleaseth thee, Well know I that my father / dear full willingly Unto thee will send me / where thou livest in Hunland." That faithful was the maiden, / full well did Kriemhild understand. 1327 Now ready were the horses / the castle steps before, And soon the queen full stately / did take her leave once more Of the lovely daughter / and spouse of Ruediger. Eke parted with fair greeting / thence full many a maiden fair. 1328 Each other they full seldom / thereafter might behold. From Medelick were carried / beakers rich of gold In hand and eke full many, / wherein was sparkling wine: Upon the way were greeted / thus the strangers from the Rhine. 1329 High there a lord was seated, / Astold the name he bore, Who that into Osterland / did lead the way before As far as to Mautaren / adown the Danube's side. There did they fitting service / for the lofty queen provide. 1330 Of his niece the bishop / took leave in loving wise. That she well should bear her, / did he oft advise, And that she win her honor / as Helke erst had done. Ah, how great the honor / anon that 'mid the Huns she won! 1331 Unto the Traisem brought they / forth the strangers then. Fair had they attendance / from Ruediger's men, Till o'er the country riding / the Huns came them to meet. With mickle honor did they / then the royal lady greet. 1332 For had the king of Hunland, / Traisem's stream beside, A full mighty castle, / known afar and wide, The same hight Traisenmauer: / Dame Helke there before Did sit, such bounteous mistress / as scarce ye ever might see more, 1333 An it were not Kriemhild / who could such bounty show, That after days of sorrow / the pleasure she might know, To be held in honor / by Etzel's men each one: That praise in fullest measure / had she amid those thanes anon. 1334 Afar the might of Etzel / so well was known around, That at every season / within his court were found Knights of all the bravest, / whereof ye e'er did hear In Christian lands or heathen: / with him all thither come they were. 1335 By him at every season, / as scarce might elsewhere be, Knights both of Christian doctrine / and heathen use saw ye. Yet in what mind soever / did each and every stand, To all in fullest measure / dealt the king with bounteous hand. TWENTY-SECOND ADVENTURE How Etzel kept the Wedding-feast with Kriemhild 1336 At Traisenmauer she tarried / until the fourth day. Upon the road the dust-clouds / meanwhile never lay. But rose like smoke of fire / around on every side: Onward then through Austria / King Etzel's warriors did ride. 1337 Then eke unto the monarch / such tidings now were told, That at the thought did vanish / all his grief of old, In what high manner Kriemhild / should in his land appear. Then gan the monarch hasten / where he did find the lady fair. 1338 Of many a tongue and varied / upon the way were seen Before King Etzel riding / full many warriors keen, Of Christians and of heathen / a spreading company. To greet their coming mistress / forth they rode in fair array. 1339 Of Reuss men and Greeks there / great was the tale, And rapid saw ye riding / the Wallach and the Pole On chargers full of mettle / that they did deftly guide. Their own country's custom / did they in no wise lay aside. 1340 From the land of Kief / rode there full many a thane, And the wild Petschenegers. / Full many a bow was drawn, As at the flying wild-fowl / through air the bolt was sped. With might the bow was bended / as far as to the arrow's head. 1341 A city by the Danube / in Osterland doth stand, Hight the same is Tulna: / of many a distant land Saw Kriemhild there the customs, / ne'er yet to her were known. To many there did greet her / sorrow befell through her anon. 1342 Before the monarch Etzel / rode a company Of merry men and mighty, / courteous and fair to see, Good four-and-twenty chieftains, / mighty men and bold. Naught else was their desire / save but their mistress to behold. 1343 Then the Duke Ramung / from far Wallachia With seven hundred warriors / dashed forth athwart her way: Their going might ye liken / unto birds in flight. Then came the chieftain Gibeke, / with his host a stately sight. 1344 Eke the valiant Hornbog / with full thousand men From the king went forward / to greet his mistress then. After their country's custom / in joy they shouted loud; The doughty thanes of Hunland / likewise in merry tourney rode. 1345 Then came a chief from Denmark, / Hawart bold and keen, And the valiant Iring, / in whom no guile was seen, And Irnfried of Thuringia, / a stately knight to see: Kriemhild they greeted / that honor high therefrom had she, 1346 With good knights twelve hundred / whom led they in their train. Thither with three thousand / came Bloedel eke, the thane That was King Etzel's brother / out of Hunland: Unto his royal mistress / led he then his stately band. 1347 Then did come King Etzel / and Dietrich by his side With all his doughty fellows. / In state there saw ye ride Many a knight full noble, / valiant and void of fear. The heart of Lady Kriemhild / did such host of warriors cheer. 1348 Then to his royal mistress / spake Sir Ruediger: "Lady, now give I greeting / to the high monarch here. Whom to kiss I bid thee, / grant him such favor then: For not to all like greeting / may'st thou give 'mid Etzel's men." 1349 They lifted then from saddle / the dame of royal state. Etzel the mighty monarch / might then no longer wait, But sprang from off his charger / with many a warrior keen: Unto Kriemhild hasting / full joyously he then was seen. 1350 As is to us related, / did there high princes twain By the lady walking / bear aloft her train, As the royal Etzel / went forward her to meet, And she the noble monarch / with kiss in kindly wise did greet. 1351 Aside she moved her wimple, / whereat her visage fair Gleamed 'mid the gold around it. / Though many a knight stood there, They deemed that Lady Helke / did boast not fairer face. Full close beside the monarch / his brother Bloedel had his place. 1352 To kiss him then Margrave / Ruediger her did tell, And eke the royal Gibeke / and Sir Dietrich as well. Of highest knights a dozen / did Etzel's spouse embrace; Other knights full many / she greeted with a lesser grace. 1353 All the while that Etzel / stood by Kriemhild so, Did the youthful riders / as still they're wont to do: In varied tourney saw ye / each 'gainst the other pass, Christian knights and heathen, / as for each the custom was. 1354 From men that followed Dietrich / saw ye in kindly wise Splinters from the lances / flying high arise Aloft above their bucklers, / from hand of good knight sent! By the German strangers / pierced was many a shield and rent. 1355 From shaft of lances breaking / did far the din resound. Together came the warriors / from all the land around, Eke the guests of the monarch / and many a knight there was. Thence did the mighty monarch / then with Lady Kriemhild pass. 1356 Stretched a fair pavilion / beside them there was seen: With tents as well was covered / all around the green, Where they now might rest them / all that weary were. By high-born knights was thither / led full many a lady fair. 1357 With their royal mistress, / where in rich cushioned chair Sat the queen full stately. / 'Twas by the margrave's care That well had been provided, / with all that seemed good, A worthy seat for Kriemhild: / thereat was Etzel glad of mood. 1358 What was by Etzel spoken, / may I not understand. In his right hand resting / lay her fair white hand. They sat in loving fashion, / nor Ruediger would let The king have secret converse / with Lady Kriemhild as yet. 1359 'Twas bidden that the jousting / on all sides they give o'er. The din of stately tourney / heard ye then no more. All the men of Etzel / unto their tents did go, For every warrior present / did they full spacious lodging show. 1360 And now the day was ended / and they did rest the night Until beheld they shining / once more the morning light. Soon on charger mounted / again was many a man: Heigho, what merry pastime, / the king to honor, they began! 1361 By the Huns the monarch / bade honors high be shown. Soon rode they forth from Tulna / unto Vienna town, Where found they many a lady / decked out in fair array: The same the monarch Etzel's / wife received in stately way. 1362 In very fullest measure / upon them there did wait Whate'er they might desire. / Of knights the joy was great, Looking toward the revel. / Lodging then sought each one. The wedding of the monarch / was in merry wise begun. 1363 Yet not for all might lodging / within the town be had. All that were not strangers, / Ruediger them bade That they find them lodgings / beyond the city's bound. I ween that at all seasons / by Lady Kriemhild's side was found 1364 The noble Sir Dietrich / and many another thane, Who amid their labors / but little rest had ta'en, That the guests they harbored / of merry mood should be. For Ruediger and his companions / went the time full pleasantly. 1365 The wedding time was fallen / upon a Whitsuntide, When the monarch Etzel / lay Kriemhild beside In the town at Vienna. / So many men I ween Through her former husband / had not in her service been. 1366 Many that ne'er had seen her / did her rich bounty take, And many a one among them / unto the strangers spake: "We deemed that Lady Kriemhild / of wealth no more had aught Now hath she by her giving / here full many a wonder wrought." 1367 The wedding-feast it lasted / for days full seventeen. Ne'er of other monarch / hath any told, I ween, That wedded with more splendor: / of such no tale we hear. All that there were present, / new-made apparel did they wear. 1368 I ween that far in Netherland / sat she ne'er before Amid such host of warriors. / And this believe I more: Was Siegfried rich in treasure, / that yet he ne'er did gain, As here she saw 'fore Etzel, / so many a high and noble thane. 1369 Nor e'er gave any other / at his own wedding-tide So many a costly mantle / flowing long and wide, Nor yet so rich apparel / --so may ye well believe-- As here from hand of Kriemhild / did they one and all receive. 1370 Her friends and eke the strangers / were of a single mind, That they would not be sparing / of treasure in any kind: What any from them desired, / they gave with willing hand. Many a thane from giving / himself of clothing reft did stand. 1371 How by her noble husband / at the Rhine a queen she sat, Of that she still was minded, / and her eye grew wet thereat. Yet well she kept it hidden / that none the same might mark. Now had she wealth of honor / after long years of sorrow dark. 1372 What any did with bounty, / 'twas but an idle wind By side of Dietrich's giving: / what Etzel's generous mind Before to him had given, / complete did disappear. Eke wrought there many a wonder / the hand of bounteous Ruediger. 1373 Bloedelein the chieftain / that came from Hunland, Full many a chest to empty / did he then command, Of gold and eke of silver. / That did they freely give. Right merrily the warriors / of the monarch saw ye live. 1374 Likewise the monarch's minstrels / Werbel and Schwemmelein, Won they at the wedding / each alone, I ween, Marks a good thousand / or even more than that, Whenas fair Lady Kriemhild / 'neath crown by royal Etzel sat. 1375 Upon the eighteenth morning / from Vienna town they went. Then in knightly pastime / many a shield was rent By spear full well directed / by doughty rider's hand. So came the royal Etzel / riding into Hunland. 1376 At Heimburg's ancient castle / they tarried over night. Tell the tale of people / no mortal ever might, And the number of good warriors / did o'er the country come. Ah, what fairest women / were gathered unto Etzel's home! 1377 By Miesenburg's majestic / towers did they embark. With horses eke and riders / the water all was dark, As if 'twere earth they trod on, / as far as eye might see. The way-worn ladies rested / now on board right pleasantly. 1378 Now was lashed together / many a boat full good, That no harm they suffered / from the waves and flood. Many a stately awning / likewise above them spread, Just as if beneath them / had they land and flowery mead. 1379 When to Etzelburg the tidings / soon were borne along, Therein of men and women / were seen a merry throng. Who once the Lady Helke / as mistress did obey, Anon by Lady Kriemhild / lived they many a gladsome day. 1380 There did stand expectant / full many a maid high-born, That since the death of Helke / had pined all forlorn. Daughters of seven monarchs / Kriemhild there waiting found, That were the high adornment / of all King Etzel's country round. 1381 Herrat, a lofty princess, / did all the train obey, Sister's child to Helke, / in whom high virtues lay, Betrothed eke of Dietrich, / of royal lineage born, Daughter of King Nentwein; / her did high honors eft adorn. 1382 Against the strangers' coming / her heart with joy flowed o'er: Eke was thereto devoted / of wealth a mickle store. Who might e'er give the picture, / how the king eft sat on throne? Nor had with any mistress / the Huns such joyous living known. 1383 As with his spouse the monarch / up from the river came, Unto the noble Kriemhild / of each they told the name 'Mong them that she did find there: / she fairer each did greet. Ah, how mighty mistress / she long did sit in Helke's seat! 1384 Ready and true the service / to her was offered there. The queen dealt out in plenty / gold and raiment rare, Silver eke and jewels. / What over Rhine she brought With her unto Hunland, / soon thereof retained she naught. 1385 Eke in faithful service / she to herself did win All the king's warriors / and all his royal kin, --So that ne'er did Lady Helke / so mighty power wield As until death to Kriemhild / such host did willing service yield. 1386 Thus stood so high in honor / the court and country round, That there at every season / was pleasant pastime found By each, whithersoever / his heart's desire might stand: That wrought the monarch's favor / and the queen's full bounteous hand. TWENTY-THIRD ADVENTURE How Kriemhild thought to avenge her Wrong 1387 In full lordly honor, / --truth is that ye hear-- Dwelt they with each other / until the seventh year. Meanwhile Lady Kriemhild / a son to Etzel bore, Nor gladder might the monarch / be o'er aught for evermore. 1388 Yet would she not give over, / nor with aught be reconciled, But that should be baptized / the royal Etzel's child After Christian custom: / Ortlieb they did him call. Thereat was mickle joyance / over Etzel's borders all. 1389 Whate'er of highest virtues / in Lady Helke lay, Strove the Lady Kriemhild / to rival her each day. Herrat the stranger maiden / many a grace she taught, Who yet with secret pining / for her mistress Helke was distraught. 1390 To stranger and to native / full well she soon was known, Ne'er monarch's country, said they, / did royal mistress own That gave with freer bounty, / that held they without fear. Such praise she bore in Hunland, / until was come the thirteenth year. 1391 Now had she well perceived / how all obeyed her will, As service to royal mistress / king's knights do render still, And how at every season / twelve kings 'fore her were seen. She thought of many a sorrow / that wrought upon her once had been. 1392 Eke thought she of lordly power / in Nibelungenland That she erstwhile had wielded, / and how that Hagen's hand Of it all had reft her / with her lord Siegfried dead; She thought for so great evil / how might he ever be repaid. 1393 "'Twould be, might I but bring him / hither into this land." She dreamed that fondly led her / full often by the hand Giselher her brother, / full oft in gentle sleep Thought she to have kissed him, / wherefrom he sorrow soon must reap. 1394 I ween the evil demon / was Kriemhild's counsellor That she her peace with Gunther / should sacred keep no more, Whom she kissed in friendly token / in the land of Burgundy. Adown upon her bosom / the burning tears fell heavily. 1395 On her heart both late and early / lay the heavy thought, How that, herself all guiltless, / thereto she had been brought, That she must share in exile / a heathen monarch's bed. Through Hagen eke and Gunther / come she was to such sore need. 1396 From her heart such longing / seldom might she dismiss. Thought she: "A queen so mighty / I am o'er wealth like this, That I upon mine enemies / may yet avenge me well. Fain were I that on Hagen / of Tronje yet my vengeance fell. 1397 "For friends that once were faithful / full oft my heart doth long. Were they but here beside me / that wrought on me such wrong, Then were in sooth avenged / my lover reft of life; Scarce may I bide that hour," / spake the royal Etzel's wife. 1398 Kriemhild they loved and honored, / the monarch's men each one, As they that came there with her: / well might the same be done. The treasure wielded Eckewart, / and won good knights thereby. The will of Lady Kriemhild might / none in all that land deny. 1399 She mused at every season: / "The king himself I'll pray,"-- That he to her the favor / might grant in friendly way, To bring her kinsmen hither / unto Hunland. What vengeful thought she cherished / might none soever understand. 1400 As she in stillest night-time / by the monarch lay (In his arms enclosed he held her, / as he was wont alway To caress the noble lady: / she was to him as life), Again unto her enemies / turned her thoughts his stately wife. 1401 She spake unto the monarch: / "My lord full dear to me, Now would I pray a favor, / if with thy grace it be, That thou wilt show unto me / if merit such be mine That unto my good kinsmen / truly doth thy heart incline." 1402 The mighty monarch answered / (from guile his heart was free): "Of a truth I tell thee, / if aught of good may be The fortune of thy kinsmen, / --of that I were full fain, For ne'er through love of woman / might I friends more faithful gain." 1403 Thereat again spake Kriemhild: / "That mayst thou well believe, Full high do stand my kinsmen; / the more it doth me grieve That they deign so seldom / hither to take their way. That here I live a stranger, / oft I hear the people say." 1404 Then spake the royal Etzel: / "Beloved lady mine, Seemed not too far the journey, / I'd bid from yond the Rhine Whom thou wouldst gladly welcome / hither unto my land." Thereat rejoiced the lady / when she his will did understand. 1405 Spake she: "Wilt thou true favor / show me, master mine, Then shall thou speed thy messengers / to Worms across the Rhine. Were but my friends acquainted / what thing of them I would, Then to this land came hither / full many a noble knight and good." 1406 He spake: "Whene'er thou biddest, / straight the thing shall be. Thyself mightst ne'er thy kinsmen / here so gladly see, As I the sons of Ute, / high and stately queen. It grieveth me full sorely / that strangers here so long they've been. 1407 "If this thing doth please thee, / beloved lady mine, Then gladly send I thither / unto those friends of thine As messengers my minstrels / to the land of Burgundy." He bade the merry fiddlers / lead before him presently. 1408 Then hastened they full quickly / to where they found the king By side of Kriemhild sitting. / He told them straight the thing, How they should be his messengers / to Burgundy to fare. Full stately raiment bade he / for them straightway eke prepare. 1409 Four and twenty warriors / did they apparel well. Likewise did the monarch / to them the message tell, How that they King Gunther / and his men should bid aright. Them eke the Lady Kriemhild / to secret parley did invite. 1410 Then spake the mighty monarch: / "Now well my words attend. All good and friendly greeting / unto my friends I send, That they may deign to journey / hither to my country. Few be the guests beside them / that were so welcome unto me. 1411 "And if they be so minded / to meet my will in aught, Kriemhild's lofty kinsmen, / that they forego it not To come upon the summer / here where I hold hightide, For that my joy in living / doth greatly with my friends abide." 1412 Then spake the fiddle-player, / Schwemmelein full bold: "When thinkst thou in this country / such high feast to hold, That unto thy friends yonder / tell the same we may?" Thereto spake King Etzel: / "When next hath come midsummer day." 1413 "We'll do as thou commandest," / spake then Werbelein. Unto her own chamber / commanded then the queen To bring in secret manner / the messengers alone. Thereby did naught but sorrow / befall full many a thane anon. 1414 She spake unto the messengers: / "Mickle wealth I give to you, If my will in this matter / right faithfully ye do, And bear what tidings send I / home unto our country. I'll make you rich in treasure / and fair apparelled shall ye be. 1415 "And friends of mine so many / as ever see ye may At Worms by Rhine river, / to them ye ne'er shall say That any mood of sorrow / in me ye yet have seen. Say ye that I commend me / unto the knights full brave and keen." 1416 "Pray them that to King Etzel's / message they give heed, Thereby to relieve me / of all my care and need, Else shall the Huns imagine / that I all friendless am. If I but a knight were, / oft would they see me at their home. 1417 "Eke say ye unto Gernot, / brother to me full dear, To him might never any / disposed be more fair; Pray him that he bring hither / unto this country All our friends most steadfast, / that we thereby shall honored be. 1418 "Say further eke to Giselher / that he do have in mind, That by his guilt I never / did cause for sorrow find; Him therefore would I gladly / here with mine own eyes see, And give him warmest welcome, / so faithful hath he been to me. 1419 "How I am held in honor, / to my mother eke make plain. And if of Tronje Hagen / hath mind there to remain, By whom might they in coming / through unknown lands be shown? The way to Hunland hither / from youth to him hath well been known." 1420 No whit knew the messengers / wherefore she did advise That they of Tronje Hagen / should not in any wise Leave by the Rhine to tarry. / That was anon their bane: Through him to dire destruction / was doomed full many a doughty thane. 1421 Letters and kindly greeting / now to them they give; They fared from thence rich laden, / and merrily might live. Leave then they took of Etzel / and eke his lady fair, And parted on their journey / dight in apparel rich and rare. TWENTY-FOURTH ADVENTURE How Werbel and Schwemmel brought the Message 1422 When to the Rhine King Etzel / his messengers had sent, With hasty flight fresh tidings / from land to land there went: With messengers full quickly / to his high festival He bade them, eke and summoned. / To many thereby did death befall. 1423 The messengers o'er the borders / of Hunland thence did fare Unto the land of Burgundy; / thither sent they were Unto three lordly monarchs / and eke their mighty men. To Etzel's land to bid them / hastily they journeyed then. 1424 Unto Bechelaren / rode they on their way, Where found they willing service. / Nor did aught delay Ruediger to commend him / and Gotelinde as well And eke their fairest daughter / to them that by the Rhine did dwell. 1425 They let them not unladen / with gifts from thence depart, So did the men of Etzel / fare on with lighter heart. To Ute and to her household / sent greeting Ruediger, That never margrave any / to them more well disposed were. 1426 Unto Brunhild also / did they themselves commend With willing service offered / and steadfast to the end. Bearing thus fair greeting / the messengers thence did fare, And prayed the noble margravine / that God would have them in his care. 1427 Ere the messengers had fully / passed o'er Bavarian ground, Had the nimble Werbel / the goodly bishop found. What greetings to his kinsmen / unto the Rhine he sent, That I cannot tell you; / the messengers yet from him went 1428 Laden with gold all ruddy, / to keep his memory. Thus spake the Bishop Pilgrim: / "'Twere highest joy to me Might I my sister's children / here see in home of mine, For that I may but seldom / go unto them to the Rhine." 1429 What were the ways they followed / as through the lands they fared, That can I nowise tell you. / Yet never any dared Rob them of wealth or raiment, / for fear of Etzel's hand: A lofty king and noble, / mighty in sooth was his command. 1430 Before twelve days were over / came they unto the Rhine, And rode into Worms city / Werbel and Schwemmelein. Told were soon the tidings / to the kings and their good men, How that were come strange messengers. / Gunther the king did question then. 1431 And spake the monarch further: / "Who here may understand Whence do come these strangers / riding unto our land?" Yet was never any / might answer to him make, Until of Tronje Hagen / thus unto King Gunther spake: 1432 "To us hath come strange tidings / to hand this day, I ween, For Etzel's fiddlers riding / hither have I seen. The same have by thy sister / unto the Rhine been sent: For sake of their high master / now give we them fair compliment." 1433 E'en then did ride the messengers / unto the castle door, And never royal minstrels / more stately went before. By the monarch's servants / well received they were: They gave them fitting lodging / and for their raiment had a care. 1434 Rich and wrought full deftly / was the travelling-dress they wore, Wherein they well with honor / might go the king before; Yet they at court no longer / would the same garments wear. The messengers inquired / if any were might wish them there. 1435 In sooth in such condition / many eke were found, Who would receive them gladly; / to such they dealt around. Then decked themselves the strangers / in garments richer far, Such as royal messengers / beseemeth well at court to wear. 1436 By royal leave came forward / to where the monarch sat The men that came from Etzel, / and joy there was thereat. Hagen then to meet them / in courteous manner went, And heartily did greet them, / whereat they gave fair compliment. 1437 To know what were the tidings, / to ask he then began How did find him Etzel / and each valiant man. Then answer gave the fiddler: / "Ne'er higher stood the land, Nor the folk so joyous: / that shall ye surely understand." 1438 They went unto the monarch. / Crowded was the hall. There were received the strangers / as of right men shall Kindly greeting offer / in other monarch's land. Many a valiant warrior / saw Werbel by King Gunther stand. 1439 Right courteously the monarch / began to greet them then: "Now be ye both right welcome, / Hunland's merry men, And knights that give you escort. / Hither sent are ye By Etzel mighty monarch / unto the land of Burgundy?" 1440 They bowed before the monarch; / then spake Werbelein: "My dear lord and master, / and Kriemhild, sister thine, Hither to thy country / give fairest compliment. In faith of kindly welcome / us unto you they now have sent." 1441 Then spake the lofty ruler: / "I joy o'er this ye bring. How liveth royal Etzel," / further spake the king, "And Kriemhild, my sister, / afar in Hunland?" Then answered him the fiddler: / "That shalt thou straightway understand. 1442 "That never any people / more lordly life might show Than they both do joy in, / --that shalt thou surely know,-- Wherein do share their kinsmen / and all their doughty train. When from them we parted, / of our journey were they fain." 1443 "My thanks for these high greetings / ye bring at his command And from my royal sister. / That high in joy they stand, The monarch and his kinsmen, / rejoiceth me to hear. For, sooth to say, the tidings / asked I now in mickle fear." 1444 The twain of youthful princes / were eke come thitherward, As soon as they the tidings / from afar had heard. Right glad were seen the messengers / for his dear sister's sake By the young Giselher, / who in such friendly manner spake: 1445 "Right hearty were your welcome / from me and brother mine, Would ye but more frequent / ride hither to the Rhine; Here found ye friends full many / whom glad ye were to see, And naught but friendly favors / the while that in this land ye be." 1446 "To us how high thy favor," / spake Schwemmel, "know we well; Nor with my best endeavor / might I ever tell How kindly is the greeting / we bear from Etzel's hand And from your noble sister, / who doth in highest honor stand. 1447 "Your sometime love and duty / recalleth Etzel's queen, And how to her devoted / in heart we've ever been, But first to royal Gunther / do we a message bear, And pray it be your pleasure / unto Etzel's land to fare. 1448 "To beg of you that favor / commanded o'er and o'er Etzel mighty monarch / and bids you know the more, An will ye not your sister / your faces give to see, So would he know full gladly / wherein by him aggrieved ye be, 1449 "That ye thus are strangers / to him and all his men. If that his spouse so lofty / to you had ne'er been known, Yet well he thought to merit / that him ye'd deign to see; In sooth could naught rejoice him / more than that such thing might be." 1450 Then spake the royal Gunther: / "A sennight from this day Shall ye have an answer, / whereon decide I may With my friends in counsel. / The while shall ye repair Unto your place of lodging, / and right goodly be your fare." 1451 Then spake in answer Werbel: / "And might such favor be That we the royal mistress / should first have leave to see, Ute, the lofty lady, / ere that we seek our rest?" To him the noble Giselher / in courteous wise these words addressed. 1452 "That grace shall none forbid you. / Will ye my mother greet, Therein do ye most fully / her own desire meet. For sake of my good sister / fain is she you to see, For sake of Lady Kriemhild / ye shall to her full welcome be." 1453 Giselher then led him / unto the lofty dame, Who fain beheld the messengers / from Hunland that came. She greeted them full kindly / as lofty manner taught, And in right courteous fashion / told they to her the tale they brought. 1454 "Pledge of loyal friendship / sendeth unto thee Now my lofty mistress," / spake Schwemmel. "Might it be, That she should see thee often, / then shalt thou know full well, In all the world there never / a greater joy to her befell." 1455 Replied the royal lady: / "Such thing may never be. Gladly as would I oft-times / my dearest daughter see, Too far, alas, is distant / the noble monarch's wife. May ever yet full happy / with King Etzel be her life. 1456 "See that ye well advise me, / ere that ye hence are gone, What time shall be your parting; / for messengers I none Have seen for many seasons / as glad as greet I you." The twain gave faithful promise / such courtesy full sure to do. 1457 Forthwith to seek their lodgings / the men of Hunland went, The while the mighty monarch / for trusted warriors sent, Of whom did noble Gunther / straightway question make, How thought they of the message. / Whereupon full many spake 1458 That he might well with honor / to Etzel's land be bound, The which did eke advise him / the highest 'mongst them found, All save Hagen only, / whom sorely grieved such rede. Unto the king in secret / spake he: "Ill shall be thy meed. 1459 "What deed we twain compounded / art thou full well aware, Wherefor good cause we ever / shall have Kriemhild to fear, For that her sometime husband / I slew by my own hand. How dare we ever journey / then unto King Etzel's land?" 1460 Replied the king: "My sister / no hate doth harbor more. As we in friendship kissed her, / vengeance she forswore For evil that we wrought her, / ere that from hence she rode,-- Unless this message, Hagen, / ill for thee alone forebode." 1461 "Now be thou not deceived," / spake Hagen, "say what may The messengers from Hunland. / If thither be thy way, At Kriemhild's hands thou losest / honor eke and life, For full long-avenging / is the royal Etzel's wife." 1462 Added then his counsel / the princely Gernot there: "Though be it thou hast reason / thine own death to fear Afar in Hunnish kingdom, / should we for that forego To visit our high sister, / that were in sooth but ill to do." 1463 Unto that thane did likewise / Giselher then say: "Since well thou know'st, friend Hagen, / what guilt on thee doth weigh, Then tarry here behind us / and of thyself have care, And let who dares the journey / with us unto my sister fare." 1464 Thereat did rage full sorely / Tronje's doughty thane: "So shall ye ne'er find any / that were to go more fain, Nor who may better guide you / than I upon your way. And will ye not give over, / know then my humor soon ye may." 1465 Then spake the Kitchen Master, / Rumold a lofty thane: "Here might ye guests and kinsmen / in plenty long maintain After your own pleasure, / for ye have goodly store. I ween ye ne'er found Hagen / traitor to you heretofore. 1466 "If heed ye will not Hagen, / still Rumold doth advise --For ye have faithful service / from me in willing wise-- That here at home ye tarry / for the love of me, And leave the royal Etzel / afar with Kriemhild to be. 1467 "Where in the world might ever / ye more happy be Than here where from danger / of every foeman free, Where ye may go as likes you / in goodliest attire, Drink wine the best, and stately / women meet your heart's desire. 1468 "And daily is your victual / the best that ever knew A king of any country. / And were the thing not true, At home ye yet should tarry / for sake of your fair wife Ere that in childish fashion / ye thus at venture set your life. 1469 "Thus rede I that ye go not. / Mighty are your lands, And at home more easy may ye / be freed from hostile hands Than if ye pine in Hunland. / How there it is, who knows? O Master, go not thither, / --such is the rede that Rumold owes." 1470 "We'll ne'er give o'er the journey," / Gernot then did say, "When thus our sister bids us / in such friendly way And Etzel, mighty monarch. / Wherefore should we refrain? Who goes not gladly thither, / here at home may he remain." 1471 Thereto gave answer Hagen: / "Take not amiss, I pray, These my words outspoken, / let befall what may. Yet do I counsel truly, / as ye your safety prize, That to the Huns ye journey / armed full well in warlike guise. 1472 "Will ye then not give over, / your men together call, The best that ye may gather / from districts one and all. From out them all I'll choose you / a thousand knights full good, Then may ye reck but little / the vengeful Kriemhild's angry mood." 1473 "I'll gladly heed thy counsel," / straight the king replied, And bade the couriers traverse / his kingdom far and wide. Soon they brought together / three thousand men or more, Who little weened what mickle / sorrow was for them in store. 1474 Joyful came they riding / to King Gunther's land. Steeds and equipment for them / all he did command, Who should make the journey / thence from Burgundy. Warriors many were there / to serve the king right willingly. 1475 Hagen then of Tronje / to Dankwart did assign Of their warriors eighty / to lead unto the Rhine. Equipped in knightly harness / were they soon at hand. Riding in gallant fashion / unto royal Gunther's land. 1476 Came eke the doughty Volker, / a noble minstrel he, With thirty goodly warriors / to join the company, Who wore so rich attire / 'twould fit a monarch well. That he would fare to Hunland, / bade he unto Gunther tell. 1477 Who was this same Volker / that will I let you know: He was a knight full noble, / to him did service owe Many a goodly warrior / in the land of Burgundy. For that he well could fiddle, / named the Minstrel eke was he. 1478 Thousand men chose Hagen, / who well to him were known. What things in storm of battle / their doughty arm had done, Or what they wrought at all times, / that knew he full well. Nor of them might e'er mortal / aught but deeds of valor tell. 1479 The messengers of Kriemhild, / full loath they were to wait, For of their master's anger / stood they in terror great. Each day for leave to journey / more great their yearning grew, But daily to withhold it / crafty Hagen pretext knew. 1480 He spake unto his master: / "Well shall we beware Hence to let them journey / ere we ourselves prepare In seven days thereafter / to ride to Etzel's land: If any mean us evil, / so may we better understand. 1481 "Nor may the Lady Kriemhild / ready make thereto, That any by her counsel / scathe to us may do. Yet if such wish she cherish, / evil shall be her meed, For many a chosen warrior / with us shall we thither lead." 1482 Shields well-wrought and saddles, / with all the mickle gear That into Etzel's country / the warriors should wear, The same was now made ready / for many a knight full keen. The messengers of Kriemhild / before King Gunther soon were seen. 1483 When were come the messengers, / Gernot them addressed: "King Gunther now is minded / to answer Etzel's quest. Full gladly go we thither / with him to make high-tide And see our lofty sister, / --of that set ye all doubt aside." 1484 Thereto spake King Gunther: / "Can ye surely say When shall be the high-tide, / or upon what day We shall there assemble?" / Spake Schwemmel instantly: "At turn of sun in summer / shall in sooth the meeting be." 1485 The monarch leave did grant them, / ere they should take their way, If that to Lady Brunhild / they would their homage pay, His high pleasure was it / they unto her should go. Such thing prevented Volker, / and did his mistress' pleasure so. 1486 "In sooth, my Lady Brunhild / hath scarce such health to-day As that she might receive you," / the gallant knight did say. "Bide ye till the morrow, / may ye the lady see." When thus they sought her presence, / might their wish not granted be. 1487 To the messengers right gracious / was the mighty king, And bade he from his treasure / on shields expansive bring Shining gold in plenty / whereof he had great store. Eke richest gifts received they / from his lofty kinsmen more. 1488 Giselher and Gernot, / Gere and Ortwein, That they were free in giving / soon full well was seen. So costly gifts were offered / unto each messenger That they dared not receive them, / for Etzel's anger did they fear. 1489 Then unto King Gunther / Werbel spake again: Sire, let now thy presents / in thine own land remain. The same we may not carry, / my master hath decreed That we accept no bounty. / Of that in sooth we've little need." 1490 Thereat the lord of Rhineland / was seen in high displeasure, That they should thus accept not / so mighty monarch's treasure? In their despite yet took they / rich dress and gold in store, The which moreover with them / home to Etzel's land they bore. 1491 Ere that they thence departed / they Lady Ute sought, Whereat the gallant Giselher / straight the minstrels brought Unto his mother's presence. / Kind greetings sent the dame, And wish that high in honor / still might stand her daughter's name. 1492 Then bade the lofty lady / embroidered silks and gold For the sake of Kriemhild, / whom loved she as of old, And eke for sake of Etzel, / unto the minstrels give. What thus so free was offered / might they in sooth right fain receive. 1493 Soon now had ta'en departure / the messengers from thence, From knight and fairest lady, / and joyous fared they hence Unto Suabian country; / Gernot had given behest Thus far for armed escort, / that none their journey might molest. 1494 When these had parted from them, / safe still from harm were they, For Etzel's might did guard them / wherever led their way. Nor ever came there any / that aught to take would dare, As into Etzel's country / they in mickle haste did fare. 1495 Where'er they friends encountered, / to all they straight made known How that they of Burgundy / should follow after soon From Rhine upon their journey / unto the Huns' country. The message brought they likewise / unto Bishop Pilgrim's see. 1496 As down 'fore Bechelaren / they passed upon their way, The tidings eke to Ruediger / failed they not to say, And unto Gotelinde, / the margrave's wife the same. At thought so soon to see them / was filled with joy the lofty dame. 1497 Hasting with the tidings / each minstrel's courser ran, Till found they royal Etzel / within his burgh at Gran. Greeting upon greeting, / which they must all bestow, They to the king delivered; / with joy his visage was aglow. 1498 When that the lofty Kriemhild / did eke the tidings hear, How that her royal brothers / unto the land would fare, In sooth her heart was gladdened; / on the minstrels she bestowed Richest gifts in plenty, / as she to her high station owed. 1499 She spake: "Now shall ye, Werbel / and Schwemmel, tell to me Who cometh of my kinsmen / to our festivity, Who of all were bidden / this our land to seek? Now tell me, when the message / heard he, what did Hagen speak?" 1500 Answered: "He came to council / early upon a day, But little was of pleasant / in what he there did say. When learned he their intention, / in wrath did Hagen swear, To death 'twere making journey, / to country of the Huns to fare. 1501 "Hither all are coming, / thy royal brothers three, And they right high in spirit. / Who more shall with them be, The tale to tell entire / were more than I might do. To journey with them plighted / Volker the valiant fiddler too." 1502 "'Twere little lost, full truly," / answered then the queen, "If by my eyes never / Volker here were seen. 'Tis Hagen hath my favor, / a noble knight is he, And mickle is my pleasure / that him full soon we here may see." 1503 Her way the Lady Kriemhild / then to the king did take, And in right joyous manner / unto her consort spake: "How liketh thee the tidings, / lord full dear to me? What aye my heart hath yearned for, / that shall now accomplished be." 1504 "Thy will my joy was ever," / the lofty monarch said. "In sooth for my own kinsmen / I ne'er have been so glad, To hear that they come hither / unto my country. To know thy friends are coming, / hath parted sadness far from me." 1505 Straight did the royal provosts / give everywhere decree That hall and stately palace / well prepared should be With seats, that unprovided / no worthy guest be left. Anon by them the monarch / should be of mickle joy bereft. TWENTY-FIFTH ADVENTURE How the Knights all fared to the Huns 1506 Tell we now no further / how they here did fare. Knights more high in spirit / saw ye journey ne'er In so stately fashion / to the land of e'er a king. Of arms and rich attire / lacked they never anything. 1507 At Rhine the lordly monarch / equipped his warriors well, A thousand knights and sixty, / as I did hear tell, And eke nine thousand squires / toward the festivity. Whom they did leave behind them / anon must mourn full grievously. 1508 As at Worms across the courtyard / equipment full they bore Spake there of Speyer / a bishop old and hoar Unto Lady Ute: / "Our friends have mind to fare Unto the festivity; / may God their honor have in care." 1509 Then spake unto her children / Ute the noble dame: "At home ye here should tarry, / ye knights full high in fame. Me dreamt but yester even / a case of direst need, How that in this country / all the feathered fowl were dead." 1510 "Who recketh aught of dreamings," / Hagen then replied, "Distraught is sure his counsel / when trouble doth betide, Or he would of his honor / have a perfect care. I counsel that my master / straight to take his leave prepare. 1511 "Gladly shall we journey / into Etzel's land; There at their master's service / may good knights ready stand, For that we there shall witness / Kriemhild's festivity." That Hagen gave such counsel, / rue anon full sore did he. 1512 Yet in sooth far other / than this had been his word, Had not with bitter mocking / Gernot his anger stirred. He spake to him of Siegfried / whom Kriemhild loved so, And said: "Therefore the journey / would Hagen willingly forego." 1513 Then spake of Tronje Hagen: / "Through fear I nothing do. Whenever will ye, Masters, / set straight your hand thereto, With you I'll gladly journey / unto Etzel's land." Many a shield and helmet / there hewed anon his mighty hand. 1514 The ships stood ready waiting, / whereunto ample store Of clothing for the journey / men full many bore, Nor had they time for resting / till shades of even fell. Anon in mood full joyous / bade they friends at home farewell. 1515 Tents full large and many / arose upon the green, Yonder side Rhine river. / But yet the winsome queen Caressed the doughty monarch / that night, and still did pray That far from Etzel's country / among his kinsmen might he stay. 1516 When sound of flute and trumpet / arose at break of day, A signal for their parting, / full soon they took their way. Each lover to his bosom / did friend more fondly press: King Etzel's wife full many / did part anon in dire distress. 1517 The sons of stately Ute, / a good knight had they, A brave man and a faithful. / When they would thence away, Apart unto the monarch / did he his mind reveal, And spake: "That ye will journey, / may I naught but sorrow feel." 1518 Hight the same was Rumold, / a man of doughty hand. He spake: "To whom now leave ye / people here and land? O that never any / might alter your intent! Small good, methinks, may follow / message e'er by Kriemhild sent." 1519 "The land to thee entrusted / and eke my child shall be, And tender care of ladies, / --so hast command from me. Whene'er thou seest weeping, / do there thy comfort give. Yea, trust we free from sorrow / at hand of Etzel's wife to live." 1520 For knight and royal master / the chargers ready were, As with fond embracing / parted many there, Who long in joy together / a merry life had led. By winsome dame full many / therefor must bitter tear be shed. 1521 As did those doughty warriors / into the saddle spring, Might full many a lady / be seen there sorrowing; For told them well their spirit / that thus so long to part Did bode a dire peril, / the which must ever cloud the heart. 1522 As mounted stood the valiant / thanes of Burgundy, Might ye a mickle stirring / in that country see, Both men and women weeping / on either riverside. Yet pricked they gaily forward, / let what might their folk betide. 1523 The Nibelungen warriors / in hauberks bright arrayed Went with them, a thousand, / while at home behind them stayed Full many a winsome lady, / whom saw they nevermore. The wounds of doughty Siegfried / still grieved the Lady Kriemhild sore. 1524 Their journey they directed / onward to the Main, Up through East Frankish country, / the men of Gunther's train Thither led by Hagen, / who well that country knew; Marshal to them was Dankwart, / a knight of Burgundy full true. 1525 On from East Frankish country / to Schwanefeld they went, A train of valiant warriors / of high accomplishment, The monarchs and their kinsmen, / all knights full worthy fame. Upon the twelfth morning / the king unto the Danube came. 1526 The knight of Tronje, Hagen, / the very van did lead, Ever to the Nibelungen / a surest help in need. First the thane full valiant / down leapt upon the ground, And straightway then his charger / fast unto a tree he bound. 1527 Flooded were the waters / and ne'er a boat was near, Whereat began the Nibelungen / all in dread to fear They ne'er might cross the river, / so mighty was the flood. Dismounted on the shore, / full many a stately knight then stood. 1528 "Ill may it," spake then Hagen, / "fare here with thee, Lord of Rhine river. / Now thyself mayst see How flooded are the waters, / and swift the current flows. I ween, before the morrow / here many a goodly knight we lose." 1529 "How wilt reproach me, Hagen?" / the lofty monarch spake. I pray thee yet all comfort / not from our hearts to take. The ford shalt thou discover / whereby we may pass o'er, Horse and equipment bringing / safely unto yonder shore." 1530 "In sooth, not I," quoth Hagen, / "am yet so weary grown Of life, that in these waters / wide I long to drown. Ere that, shall warriors sicken / in Etzel's far country Beneath my own arm stricken: / --'tis my intent full certainly. 1531 "Here tarry by the water, / ye gallant knights and good, The while I seek the boatmen / myself along the flood, Who will bring us over / into Gelfrat's land." With that the doughty Hagen / took his trusty shield in hand. 1532 He cap-a-pie was armed, / as thus he strode away, Upon his head a helmet / that gleamed with brilliant ray, And o'er his warlike harness / a sword full broad there hung, That on both its edges / did fiercely cut, in battle swung. 1533 He sought to find the boatmen / if any might be near, When sound of falling waters / full soon upon his ear. Beside a rippling fountain, / where ran the waters cool, A group of wise mermaidens / did bathe themselves within the pool. 1534 Ware of them soon was Hagen / and stole in secret near, But fast away they hurried / when they the sound did hear. That they at all escaped him, / filled they were with glee. The knight did take their clothing, / yet wrought none other injury. 1535 Then spake the one mermaiden, / Hadburg that hight: "Hagen, knight full noble, / tell will we thee aright, An wilt thou, valiant warrior, / our garments but give o'er, What fortune may this journey / to Hunland have for thee in store." 1536 They hovered there before him / like birds above the flood, Wherefore did think the warrior / that tell strange things they could, And all the more believed he / what they did feign to say, As to his eager question / in ready manner answered they. 1537 Spake one: "Well may ye journey / to Etzel's country. Thereto my troth I give thee / in full security That ne'er in any kingdom / might high guests receive Such honors as there wait you, / --this may ye in sooth believe." 1538 To hear such speech was Hagen / in sooth right glad of heart; He gave to them their garments, / and straightway would depart. But when in strange attire / they once more were dight, Told they of the journey / into Etzel's land aright. 1539 Spake then the other mermaid, / Siegelind that hight: "I warn thee, son of Aldrian, / Hagen valiant knight, 'Twas but to gain her clothing / my cousin falsely said, For, comest thou to Hunland, / sorely shalt thou be betrayed. 1540 "Yea, that thou turnest backward / is fitter far, I ween; For but your death to compass / have all ye warriors keen Received now the bidding / unto Etzel's land. Whose doth thither journey, / death leadeth surely by the hand." 1541 Thereto gave answer Hagen: / "False speech hath here no gain. How might it ever happen / that we all were slain Afar in Etzel's country / through hate of any man?" To tell the tale more fully / unto him she then began. 1542 Spake again the other: / "The thing must surely be, That of you never any / his home again shall see, Save only the king's chaplain; / well do we understand That he unscathed returneth / unto royal Gunther's land." 1543 Then spake the valiant Hagen / again in angry way: "Unto my royal masters / 'twere little joy to say That we our lives must forfeit / all in Hunland. Now show us, wisest woman, / how pass we safe to yonder strand." 1544 She spake: "Since from thy purposed / journey thou wilt not turn, Where upward by the water / a cabin stands, there learn Within doth dwell a boatman, / nor other find thou mayst." No more did Hagen question, / but strode away from there in haste. 1545 As went he angry-minded / one from afar did say: "Now tarry still, Sir Hagen; / why so dost haste away? Give ear yet while we tell thee / how thou reachest yonder strand. Master here is Else, / who doth rule this borderland. 1546 "Hight is his brother Gelfrat, / and is a thane full rare, Lord o'er Bavarian country. / Full ill with you 'twill fare, Will ye pass his border. / Watchful must ye be, And eke with the ferryman / 'twere well to walk right modestly. 1547 "He is so angry-minded / that sure thy bane 'twill be, Wilt thou not show the warrior / all civility. Wilt thou that he transport thee, / give all the boatman's due. He guardeth well the border / and unto Gelfrat is full true. 1548 "If he be slow to answer, / then call across the flood That thy name is Amelrich. / That was a knight full good, Who for a feud did sometime / go forth from out this land. The ferryman will answer, / when he the name doth understand. 1549 Hagen high of spirit / before those women bent, Nor aught did say, but silent / upon his way he went. Along the shore he wandered / till higher by the tide On yonder side the river / a cabin standing he espied. 1550 He straight began a calling / across the flood amain. "Now fetch me over, boatman," / cried the doughty thane. "A golden armband ruddy / I'll give to thee for meed. Know that to make this crossing / I in sooth have very need." 1551 Not fitting 'twas high ferryman / his service thus should give, And recompense from any / seldom might he receive; Eke were they that served him / full haughty men of mood. Still alone stood Hagen / on the hither side the flood. 1552 Then cried he with such power / the wave gave back the sound, For in strength far-reaching / did the knight abound: "Fetch me now, for Amelrich, / Else's man, am I, That for feud outbroken / erstwhile from this land did fly." 1553 Full high upon his sword-point / an armband did he hold, Fair and shining was it / made of ruddy gold, The which he offered to him / for fare to Gelfrat's land. The ferryman high-hearted / himself did take the oar in hand. 1554 To do with that same boatman / was ne'er a pleasant thing; The yearning after lucre / yet evil end doth bring. Here where thought he Hagen's / gold so red to gain, Must he by the doughty / warrior's fierce sword be slain. 1555 With might across the river / his oar the boatman plied, But he who there was named / might nowhere be espied. His rage was all unbounded / when he did Hagen find, And loud his voice resounded / as thus he spake his angry mind: 1556 "Thou mayst forsooth be called / Amelrich by name: Whom I here did look for, / no whit art thou the same. By father and by mother / brother he was to me. Since me thou thus hast cozened, / so yet this side the river be." 1557 "Nay, by highest Heaven," / Hagen did declare. "Here am I a stranger / that have good knights in care. Now take in friendly manner / here my offered pay, And guide me o'er the ferry; / my favor hast thou thus alway." 1558 Whereat replied the boatman: / "The thing may never be. There are that to my masters / do bear hostility; Wherefore I never stranger / do lead into this land. As now thy life thou prizest, / step straightway out upon the strand." 1559 "Deny me not," quoth Hagen, / "for sad in sooth my mood. Take now for remembrance / this my gold so good, And carry men a thousand / and horses to yonder shore." Quoth in rage the boatman: / "Such thing will happen nevermore." 1560 Aloft he raised an oar / that mickle was and strong, And dealt such blow on Hagen, / (but rued he that ere long,) That in the boat did stumble / that warrior to his knee. In sooth so savage boatman / ne'er did the knight of Tronje see. 1561 With thought the stranger's anger / the more to rouse anew, He swung a mighty boat-pole / that it in pieces flew Upon the crown of Hagen;-- / he was a man of might. Thereby did Else's boatman / come anon to sorry plight. 1562 Full sore enraged was Hagen, / as quick his hand he laid Upon his sword where hanging / he found the trusty blade. His head he struck from off him / and flung into the tide. Known was soon the story / to the knights of Burgundy beside. 1563 While the time was passing / that he the boatman slew, The waters bore him downward, / whereat he anxious grew. Ere he the boat had righted / began his strength to wane, So mightily was pulling / royal Gunther's doughty thane. 1564 Soon he yet had turned it, / so rapid was his stroke, Until the mighty oar / beneath his vigor broke. As strove he his companions / upon the bank to gain, No second oar he found him. / Yet soon the same made fast again. 1565 With quickly snatched shield-strap, / a fine and narrow band. Downward where stood a forest / he sought again the land, And there his master found he / standing upon the shore. In haste came forth to meet him / many a stately warrior more. 1566 The gallant knight they greeted / with right hearty mood. When in the boat perceived they / reeking still the blood That from the wound had issued / where Hagen's sword did swing, Scarce could his companions / bring to an end their questioning. 1567 When that royal Gunther / the streaming blood did see Within the boat there running, / straightway then spake he: "Where is now the ferryman, / tell me, Hagen, pray? By thy mighty prowess / his life, I ween, is ta'en away." 1568 Thereto replied he falsely: / "When the boat I found Where slopeth a wild meadow, / I the same unbound. Hereabout no ferryman / I to-day have seen, Nor ever cause of sorrow / unto any have I been." 1569 The good knight then of Burgundy, / the gallant Gernot, spake: "Dear friends full many, fear I, / the flood this day will take, Since we of the boatmen / none ready here may find To guide us o'er the current. / 'Tis mickle sorrow to my mind." 1570 Full loudly cried then Hagen: / "Lay down upon the grass, Ye squires, the horse equipments. / I ween a time there was, Myself was best of boatmen / that dwelt the Rhine beside. To Gelfrat's country trow I / to bring you safely o'er the tide." 1571 That they might come the sooner / across the running flood, Drove they in the horses. / Their swimming, it was good, For of them never any / beneath the waves did sink, Though many farther downward / must struggle sore to gain the brink. 1572 Their treasure and apparel / unto the boat they bore, Since by no means the journey / thought they to give o'er. Hagen was director, / and safely reached the strand With many a stalwart warrior / bound unto the unknown land. 1573 Gallant knights a thousand / first he ferried o'er, Whereafter came his own men. / Of others still were more, For squires full nine thousand / he led unto that land. That day no whit was idle / that valiant knight of Tronje's hand. 1574 When he them all in safety / o'er the flood had brought, Of that strange story / the valiant warrior thought, Which erstwhile had told him / those women of the sea. Lost thereby the chaplain's / life well-nigh was doomed to be. 1575 Beside his priestly baggage / he saw the chaplain stand, Upon the holy vestments / resting with his hand. No whit was that his safety; / when Hagen him did see, Must the priest full wretched / suffer sorest injury. 1576 From out the boat he flung him / ere might the thing be told, Whereat they cried together: / "Hold, O Master, hold!" Soon had the youthful Giselher / to rage thereat begun, And mickle was his sorrow / that Hagen yet the thing had done. 1577 Then outspake Sir Gernot, / knight of Burgundy: "What boots it thee, Sir Hagen, / that thus the chaplain die? Dared any else to do it, / thy wrath 'twould sorely stir. Wherein the priest's offending, / thus thy malice to incur?" 1578 To swim the chaplain struggled. / He thought him yet to free, If any but would help him. / Yet such might never be, For that the doughty Hagen / full wrathful was of mood, He sunk him to the bottom, / whereat aghast each warrior stood. 1579 When that no help forthcoming / the wretched priest might see, He sought the hither shore, / and fared full grievously. Though failed his strength in swimming, / yet helped him God's own hand, That he came securely / back again unto the land. 1580 Safe yonder stood the chaplain / and shook his dripping dress. Thereby perceived Hagen / how true was none the less The story that did tell him / the strange women of the sea. Thought he: "Of these good warriors / soon the days must ended be." 1581 When that the boat was emptied, / and complete their store All the monarch's followers / had borne upon the shore, Hagen smote it to pieces / and cast it on the flood, Whereat in mickle wonder / the valiant knights around him stood. 1582 "Wherefore dost this, brother," / then Sir Dankwart spake; "How shall we cross the river / when again we make Our journey back from Hunland, / riding to the Rhine?" Behold how Hagen bade him / all such purpose to resign. 1583 Quoth the knight of Tronje: / "This thing is done by me, That if e'er coward rideth / in all our company, Who for lack of courage / from us away would fly, He beneath these billows / yet a shameful death must die." 1584 One there journeyed with them / from the land of Burgundy, That was a knight of valor, / Volker by name was he. He spake in cunning manner / whate'er might fill his mind, And aught was done by Hagen / did the Fiddler fitting find. 1585 Ready stood their chargers, / the carriers laden well; At passage of the river / was there naught to tell Of scathe to any happened, / save but the king's chaplain. Afoot must he now journey / back unto the Rhine again. TWENTY-SIXTH ADVENTURE How Gelfrat was Slain by Dankwart 1586 When now they all were gathered / upon the farther strand, To wonder gan the monarch: / "Who shall through this land On routes aright direct us, / that not astray we fare?" Then spake the doughty Volker: / "Thereof will I alone have care." 1587 "Now hark ye all," quoth Hagen, / "knight and squire too, And list to friendly counsel, / as fitting is to do. Full strange and dark the tidings / now ye shall hear from me: Home nevermore return we / unto the land of Burgundy. 1588 "Thus mermaids twain did tell me, / who spake to me this morn, That back we come not hither. / You would I therefore warn That armed well ye journey / and of all ills beware. To meet with doughty foemen / well behooveth us prepare. 1589 "I weened to turn to falsehood / what those wise mermaids spake, Who said that safe this journey / none again should make Home unto our country / save the chaplain alone: Him therefore was I minded / to-day beneath the flood to drown." 1590 From company to company / quickly flew the tale, Whereon grew many a doughty / warrior's visage pale, As gan he think in sorrow / how death should snatch away All ere the journey ended; / and very need for grief had they. 1591 By Moeringen was it / they had the river crossed, Where also Else's boatman / thus his life had lost. There again spake Hagen: / "Since in such wise by me Wrath hath been incurred, / assailed full surely shall we be. 1592 "Myself that same ferryman / did this morning slay. Far bruited are the tidings. / Now arm ye for the fray, That if Gelfrat and Else / be minded to beset Our train to-day, they surely / with sore discomfiture be met. 1593 "So keen they are, well know I / the thing they'll not forego. Your horses therefore shall ye / make to pace more slow, That never man imagine / we flee away in fear." "That counsel will I follow," / spake the young knight Giselher. 1594 "Who will guide our vanguard / through this hostile land?" "Volker shall do it," spake they, / "well doth he understand Where leadeth path and highway, / a minstrel brave and keen." Ere full the wish was spoken, / in armor well equipped was seen 1595 Standing the doughty Fiddler. / His helmet fast he bound, And from his stately armor / shot dazzling light around. Eke to a staff he fastened / a banner, red of hue. Anon with royal masters / came he to sorest sorrow too. 1596 Unto Gelfrat meanwhile / had sure tidings flown, How that was dead his boatman; / the story eke was known Unto the doughty Else, / and both did mourn his fate. Their warriors they summoned, / nor must long time for answer wait. 1597 But little space it lasted / --that would I have you know-- Ere that to them hasted / who oft a mickle woe Had wrought in stress of battle / and injury full sore; To Gelfrat now came riding / seven hundred knights or more. 1598 When they their foes to follow / so bitterly began, Led them both their masters. / Yet all too fast they ran After the valiant strangers / vengeance straight to wreak. Ere long from those same leaders / did death full many a warrior take. 1599 Hagen then of Tronje / the thing had ordered there, --How of his friends might ever / knight have better care?-- That he did keep the rearguard / with warriors many a one, And Dankwart eke, his brother; / full wisely the thing was done. 1600 When now the day was over / and light they had no more, Injury to his followers / gan he to dread full sore. They shield in hand rode onward / through Bavarian land, And ere they long had waited / beset they were by hostile band. 1601 On either side the highway / and close upon their rear Of hoofs was heard the clatter; / too keen the chasers were. Then spake the valiant Dankwart: / "The foe is close at hand. Now bind we on the helmet, / --wisdom doth the same command." 1602 Upon the way they halted, / nor else they safe had been. Through the gloom perceived they / of gleaming shields the sheen. Thereupon would Hagen / longer not delay: "Who rideth on the highway?"-- / That must Gelfrat tell straight-way. 1603 Of Bavaria the margrave / thereupon replied: "Our enemies now seek we, / and swift upon them ride. Fain would I discover / who hath my boatman slain. A knight he was of valor, / whose death doth cause me grievous pain." 1604 Then spake of Tronje Hagen: / "And was the boatman thine That would not take us over? / The guilt herein is mine. Myself did slay the warrior, / and had, in sooth, good need, For that beneath his valor / I myself full nigh lay dead. 1605 "For pay I rich attire / did bid, and gold a store, Good knight, that to thy country / he should us ferry o'er. Thereat he raged full sorely / and on me swung a blow With a mighty boat-pole, / whereat I eke did angry grow. 1606 "For my sword then reached I / and made his rage to close With a wound all gaping: / so thou thy knight didst lose. I'll give thee satisfaction / as to thee seemeth good." Straightway began the combat, / for high the twain in valor stood. 1607 "Well know I," spake Gelfrat, / "when Gunther with his train Rode through this my country / that we should suffer bane From Hagen, knight of Tronje. / No more shall he go free, But for my boatman's slaying / here a hostage must he be." 1608 Against their shields then lowered / for the charge the spear Gelfrat and Hagen; / eager to close they were. Else and Dankwart / spurred eke in stately way, Scanning each the other; / then both did valorous arm display. 1609 How might ever heroes / show doughty arm so well? Backward from off his charger / from mighty tilt there fell Hagen the valiant, / by Gelfrat's hand borne down. In twain was rent the breast-piece: / to Hagen thus a fall was known. 1610 Where met in charge their followers, / did crash of shafts resound. Risen eke was Hagen, / who erst unto the ground Was borne by mighty lance-thrust, / prone upon the grass. I ween that unto Gelfrat / nowise of gentle mood he was. 1611 Who held their horses' bridles / can I not recount, But soon from out their saddles / did they all dismount. Hagen and Gelfrat / straightway did fierce engage, And all their men around them / did eke a furious combat wage. 1612 Though with fierce onslaught Hagen / upon Gelfrat sprung, On his shield the noble margrave / a sword so deftly swung That a piece from off the border / 'mid flying sparks it clave. Well-nigh beneath its fury / fell dead King Gunther's warrior brave. 1613 Unto Dankwart loudly / thereat he gan to cry: "Help! ho! my good brother! / Encountered here have I A knight of arm full doughty, / from whom I come not free." Then spake the valiant Dankwart: / "Myself thereof the judge will be." 1614 Nearer sprang the hero / and smote him such a blow With a keen-edged weapon / that he in death lay low. For his slain brother Else / vengeance thought to take, But soon with all his followers / 'mid havoc swift retreat must make. 1615 Slain was now his brother, / wound himself did bear, And of his followers eighty / eke had fallen there, By grim death snatched sudden. / Then must the doughty knight, From Gunther's men to save him, / turn away in hasty flight. 1616 When that they of Bavaria / did from the carnage flee, The blows that followed after / resounded frightfully; For close the knights of Tronje / upon their enemies chased, Who to escape the fury / did quit the field in mickle haste. 1617 Then spake upon their fleeing / Dankwart the doughty thane: "Upon our way now let us / backward turn again, And leave them hence to hasten / all wet with oozing blood. Unto our friends return we, / this verily meseemeth good." 1618 When back they were returned / where did the scathe befall, Outspake of Tronje Hagen: / "Now look ye, warriors all, Who of our tale is lacking, / or who from us hath been Here in battle riven / through the doughty Gelfrat's spleen." 1619 Lament they must for warriors / four from them were ta'en. But paid for were they dearly, / for roundabout lay slain Of their Bavarian foemen / a hundred or more. The men of Tronje's bucklers / with blood were wet and tarnished o'er. 1620 From out the clouds of heaven / a space the bright moon shone. Then again spake Hagen: / "Bear report let none To my beloved masters / how we here did fare. Let them until the morrow / still be free from aught of care." 1621 When they were back returned / who bore the battle's stress, Sore troubled was their company / from very weariness. "How long shall we keep saddle?" / was many a warrior's quest. Then spake the valiant Dankwart: / "Not yet may we find place of rest, 1622 "But on ye all must journey / till day come back again." Volker, knight of prowess, / who led the foremost train, Bade to ask the marshal: / "This night where shall we be, That rest them may our chargers, / and eke my royal masters three?" 1623 Thereto spake valiant Dankwart: / "The same I ne'er can say, Yet may we never rest us / before the break of day. Where then we find it fitting / we'll lay us on the grass." When they did hear his answer, / what source of grief to all it was! 1624 Still were they unbetrayed / by reeking blood and red, Until the sun in heaven / its shining beams down shed At morn across the hill-tops, / that then the king might see How they had been in battle. / Spake he then full angrily: 1625 "How may this be, friend Hagen? / Scorned ye have, I ween, That I should be beside you, / where coats of mail have been Thus wet with blood upon you. / Who this thing hath done?" Quoth he: "The same did Else, / who hath this night us set upon. 1626 "To avenge his boatman / did they attack our train. By hand of my brother / hath Gelfrat been slain. Then fled Else before us, / and mickle was his need. Ours four, and theirs a thousand, / remained behind in battle dead." 1627 Now can we not inform you / where resting-place they found. But cause to know their passing / had the country-folk around, When there the sons of Ute / to court did fare in state. At Passau fit reception / did presently the knights await. 1628 The noble monarchs' uncle, / Bishop Pilgrim that was, Full joyous-hearted was he / that through the land did pass With train of lusty warriors / his royal nephews three. That willing was his service, / waited they not long to see. 1629 To greet them on their journey / did friends lack no device, Yet not to lodge them fully / might Passau's bounds suffice. They must across the water / where spreading sward they found, And lodge and tent erected / soon were stretching o'er the ground. 1630 Nor from that spot they onward / might journey all that day, And eke till night was over, / for pleasant was their stay. Next to the land of Ruediger / must they in sooth ride on, To whom full soon the story / of their coming eke was known. 1631 When fitting rest had taken / the knights with travel worn, And of Etzel's country / they had reached the bourn, A knight they found there sleeping / that ne'er should aught but wake, From whom of Tronje Hagen / in stealth a mighty sword did take. 1632 Hight in sooth was Eckewart / that same valiant knight. For what was there befallen / was he in sorry plight, That by those heroes' passing / he had lost his sword. At Ruediger's marches / found they meagre was the guard. 1633 "O, woe is me dishonored," / Eckewart then cried; "Yea, rueth me fully sorely, / this Burgundian ride. What time was taken Siegfried, / did joy depart from me. Alack, O Master Ruediger, / how ill my service unto thee!" 1634 Hagen, full well perceiving / the noble warrior's plight, Gave him again his weapon / and armbands six full bright. "These take, good knight, in token / that thou art still my friend. A valiant warrior art thou, / though dost thou lone this border tend." 1635 "May God thy gifts repay thee," / Eckewart replied, "Yet rueth me full sorely / that to the Huns ye ride. Erstwhile slew ye Siegfried / and vengeance have to fear; My rede to you is truly: / "Beware ye well of danger here." 1636 "Now must God preserve us," / answered Hagen there. "In sooth for nothing further / have these thanes a care Than for place of shelter, / the kings and all their band, And where this night a refuge / we may find within this land. 1637 "Done to death our horses / with the long journey are, And food as well exhausted," / Hagen did declare. "Nor find we aught for purchase; / a host we need instead, Who would in kindness give us, / ere this evening, of his bread." 1638 Thereto gave answer Eckewart: / "I'll show you such a one, That so warm a welcome / find ye never none In country whatsoever / as here your lot may be, An if ye, thanes full gallant, / the noble Ruediger will see. 1639 He dwelleth by the highway / and is most bounteous host That house e'er had for master. / His heart may graces boast, As in the lovely May-time / the flowrets deck the mead. To do good thanes a service / is for his heart most joyous deed." 1640 Then spake the royal Gunther: / "Wilt thou my messenger be, If will my dear friend Ruediger, / as favor done to me, His hospitable shelter / with all my warriors share, Therefor full to requite thee / shall e'er hereafter be my care." 1641 "Thy messenger am I gladly," / Eckewart replied, And in right willing manner / straight away did ride, The message thus received / to Ruediger to bear. Nor did so joyous tidings / for many a season greet his ear. 1642 Hasting to Bechelaren / was seen a noble thane. The same perceived Ruediger, / and spake: "O'er yonder plain Hither hastens Eckewart, / who Kriemhild's might doth own." He weened that by some foemen / to him had injury been done. 1643 Then passed he forth the gateway / where the messenger did stand. His sword he loosed from girdle / and laid from out his hand. The message that he carried / might he not long withhold From the master and his kinsmen; / full soon the same to them was told. 1644 He spake unto the margrave: / "I come at high command Of the lordly Gunther / of Burgundian land, And Giselher and Gernot, / his royal brothers twain. In service true commends him / unto thee each lofty thane. 1645 "The like hath Hagen bidden / and Volker as well With homage oft-times proffered. / And more have I to tell, The which King Gunther's marshal / to thee doth send by me: How that the valiant warriors / do crave thy hospitality." 1646 With smiling visage Ruediger / made thereto reply: "Now joyeth me the story / that the monarchs high Do deign to seek my service, / that ne'er refused shall be. Come they unto my castle, / 'tis joy and gladness unto me." 1647 "Dankwart the marshal / hath bidden let thee know Who seek with them thy shelter / as through thy land they go: Three score of valiant leaders / and thousand knights right good, With squires eke nine thousand." / Thereat was he full glad of mood. 1648 "To me 'tis mickle honor," / Ruediger then spake, "That through my castle's portals / such guests will entry make, For ne'er hath been occasion / my service yet to lend. Now ride ye, men and kinsmen, / and on these lofty knights attend." 1649 Then to horse did hasten / knight and willing squire, For glad they were at all times / to do their lord's desire, And keen that thus their service / should not be rendered late. Unwitting Lady Gotelinde / still within her chamber sate. TWENTY-SEVENTH ADVENTURE How they came to Bechelaren 1650 Then went forth the margrave / where two ladies sate, His wife beside his daughter, / nor longer did he wait To tell the joyful tidings / that unto him were brought, How Kriemhild's royal brothers / his hospitality had sought. 1651 "Dearly loved lady," / spake then Ruediger, "Full kind be thy reception / to lordly monarchs here, That now with train of warriors / to court do pass this way. Fair be eke thy greeting / to Hagen, Gunther's man, this day. 1652 "One likewise with them cometh, / Dankwart by name, Volker hight the other, / a knight of gallant fame. Thyself and eke thy daughter / with kiss these six shall greet; Full courteous be your manner / as ye the doughty thanes shall meet." 1653 Gave straight their word the ladies, / and willing were thereto. From out great chests they gorgeous / attire in plenty drew, Which they to meet the lofty / strangers thought to wear, Mickle was the hurry / there of many a lady fair. 1654 On ne'er a cheek might any / but nature's hue be seen. Upon their head they carried / band of golden sheen, That was a beauteous chaplet, / that so their glossy hair By wind might not be ruffled: / that is truth as I declare. 1655 At such employment busy / leave we those ladies now. Here with mickle hurry / across the plain did see Friends of noble Ruediger / the royal guests to meet, And them with warmest welcome / unto the margrave's land did greet. 1656 When coming forth the margrave / saw their forms appear, How spake with heart full joyous / the valiant Ruediger! "Welcome be ye, Sires, / and all your gallant band. Right glad am I to see you / hither come unto my land." 1657 Then bent the knights before him / each full courteously. That he good-will did bear them / might they full quickly see. Hagen had special greeting, / who long to him was known; To Volker eke of Burgundy / was like highest honor shown. 1658 Thus Dankwart eke he greeted, / when spake the doughty thane: "While we thus well are harbored, / who then for all the train Of those that follow with us / shall meet provision make?" "Yourselves this night right easy / shall rest," the noble margrave spake. 1659 "And all that follow with you, / with equipment whatsoe'er Ye bring into my country / of steed or warlike gear, So sure shall it be guarded / that of all the sum, E'en to one spur's value, / to you shall never damage come. 1660 "Now stretch aloft, my squires, / the tents upon the plain. What here ye have of losses / will I make good again. Unbridle now the horses / and let them wander free." Upon their way they seldom / did meet like hospitality. 1661 Thereat rejoiced the strangers. / When thus it ordered was, Rode the high knights forward. / All round upon the grass Lay the squires attendant / and found a gentle rest. I ween, upon their journey / was here provision costliest. 1662 Out before the castle / the noble margravine Had passed with her fair daughter. / In her train were seen A band of lovely women / and many a winsome maid, Whose arms with bracelets glittered, / and all in stately robes arrayed. 1663 The costly jewels sparkled / with far-piercing ray From out their richest vestments, / and buxom all were they. Now came the strangers thither / and sprang upon the ground. How high in noble courtesy / the men of Burgundy were found! 1664 Six and thirty maidens / and many a fair lady, --Nor might ye ever any / more winsome wish to see-- Went then forth to meet them / with many a knight full keen. At hands of noble ladies / fairest greeting then was seen. 1665 The margrave's youthful daughter / did kiss the kings all three As eke had done her mother. / Hagen stood thereby. Her father bade her kiss him; / she looked the thane upon, Who filled her so with terror, / she fain had left the thing undone. 1666 When she at last must do it, / as did command her sire, Mingled was her color, / both pale and hue of fire. Likewise kissed she Dankwart / and the Fiddler eke anon: That he was knight of valor / to him was such high favor shown. 1667 The margrave's youthful daughter / took then by the hand The royal knight Giselher / of Burgundian land. E'en so led forth her mother / the gallant Gunther high. With those guests so lofty / walked they there full joyfully. 1668 The host escorted Gernot / to a spacious hall and wide, Where knights and stately ladies / sate them side by side. Then bade they for the strangers / pour good wine plenteously: In sooth might never heroes / find fuller hospitality. 1669 Glances fond and many / saw ye directed there Upon Ruediger's daughter, / for she was passing fair. Yea, in his thoughts caressed her / full many a gallant knight; A lady high in spirit, / well might she every heart delight. 1670 Yet whatsoe'er their wishes, / might none fulfilled be. Hither oft and thither / glanced they furtively On maidens and fair ladies, / whereof were many there. Right kind the noble Fiddler / disposed was to Ruediger. 1671 They parted each from other / as ancient custom was, And knights and lofty ladies / did separating pass When tables were made ready / within the spacious hall. There in stately manner / they waited on the strangers all. 1672 To do the guests high honor / likewise the table sought With them the lofty margravine. / Her daughter led she not, But left among the maidens, / where fitting was she sat. That they might not behold her, grieved were the guests in sooth thereat. 1673 The drinking and the feasting, / when 'twas ended all, Escorted was the maiden / again into the hall. Then of merry jesting / they nothing lacked, I ween, Wherein was busy Volker, / a thane full gallant and keen. 1674 Then spake the noble Fiddler / to all in lofty tone: "Great mercy, lordly margrave, / God to thee hath shown, For that he hath granted / unto thee a wife Of so surpassing beauty, / and thereto a joyous life. 1675 "If that I were of royal / birth," the Fiddler spake, "And kingly crown should carry, / to wife I'd wish to take This thy lovely daughter, / --my heart thus prompteth me. A noble maid and gentle / and fair to look upon is she." 1676 Then outspake the margrave: / "How might such thing be, That king should e'er desire / daughter born to me? Exiled from my country / here with my spouse I dwell: What avails the maiden, / be she favored ne'er so well?" 1677 Thereto gave answer Gernot, / a knight of manner kind: "If to my desire / I ever spouse would find, Then would I of such lady / right gladly make my choice." In full kindly manner / added Hagen eke his voice: 1678 "Now shall my master Giselher / take to himself a spouse. The noble margrave's daughter / is of so lofty house, That I and all his warriors / would glad her service own, If that she in Burgundy / should ever wear a royal crown." 1679 Glad thereat full truly / was Sir Ruediger, And eke Gotelinde: / they joyed such words to hear. Anon arranged the heroes / that her as bride did greet The noble knight Giselher, / as was for any monarch meet. 1680 What thing is doomed to happen, / who may the same prevent? To come to the assembly / they for the maidens sent, And to the knight they plighted / the winsome maid for wife, Pledge eke by him was given, / his love should yet endure with life. 1681 They to the maid allotted / castles and spreading land, Whereof did give assurance / the noble monarch's hand And eke the royal Gernot, / 'twould surely so be done. Then spake to them the margrave: / "Lordly castles have I none, 1682 "Yet true shall be my friendship / the while that I may live. Unto my daughter shall I / of gold and silver give What hundred sumpter-horses / full laden bear away, That her husband's lofty kinsmen / find honor in the fair array." 1683 They bade the knight and maiden / within a ring to stand, As was of old the custom. / Of youths a goodly band, That all were merry-hearted, / did her there confront, And thought they on her beauty / as mind of youth is ever wont. 1684 When they began to question / then the winsome maid, Would she the knight for husband, / somewhat she was dismayed, And yet forego she would not / to have him for her own. She blushed to hear the question, / as many another maid hath done. 1685 Her father Ruediger prompted / that Yes her answer be, And that she take him gladly. / Unto her instantly Sprang the young Sir Giselher, / and in his arm so white He clasped her to his bosom. / --Soon doomed to end was her delight. 1686 Then spake again the margrave: / "Ye royal knights and high, When that home ye journey / again to Burgundy I'll give to you my daughter, / as fitting is to do, That ye may take her with you." / They gave their plighted word thereto. 1687 What jubilation made they / yet at last must end. The maiden then was bidden / unto her chamber wend, And guests to seek their couches / and rest until the day. For them the host provided / a feast in hospitable way. 1688 When they had feasted fully / and to the Huns' country Thence would onward journey, / "Such thing shall never be," Spake the host full noble, / "but here ye still shall rest. Seldom hath my good fortune / welcomed yet so many a guest." 1689 Thereto gave answer Dankwart: / "In sooth it may not be. Bread and wine whence hast thou / and food sufficiently, Over night to harbor / of guests so great a train?" When the host had heard it, / spake he: "All thy words are vain. 1690 "Refuse not my petition, / ye noble lords and high. A fortnight's full provision / might I in sooth supply, For you and every warrior / that journeys in your train. Till now hath royal Etzel / small portion of my substance ta'en." 1691 Though fain they had declined it, / yet they there must stay E'en to the fourth morning. / Then did the host display So generous hand and lavish / that it was told afar. He gave unto the strangers / horses and apparel rare. 1692 The time at last was over / and they must journey thence. Then did the valiant Ruediger / with lavish hand dispense Unto all his bounty, / refused he unto none Whate'er he might desire. / Well-pleased they parted every one. 1693 His courteous retainers / to castle gateway brought Saddled many horses, / and soon the place was sought Eke by the gallant strangers / each bearing shield in hand, For that they thence would journey / onward into Etzel's land. 1694 The host had freely offered / rich presents unto all, Ere that the noble strangers / passed out before the hall. High in honor lived he, / a knight of bounty rare. His fair daughter had he / given unto Giselher. 1695 Eke gave he unto Gunther, / a knight of high renown, What well might wear with honor / the monarch as his own, --Though seldom gift received he-- / a coat of harness rare. Thereat inclined King Gunther / before the noble Ruediger. 1696 Then gave he unto Gernot / a good and trusty blade, Wherewith anon in combat / was direst havoc made. That thus the gift was taken / rejoiced the margrave's wife: Thereby the noble Ruediger / was doomed anon to lose his life. 1697 Gotelinde proffered Hagen, / as 'twas a fitting thing, Her gifts in kindly manner. / Since scorned them not the king, Eke he without her bounty / to the high festivity Should thence not onward journey. / Yet loath to take the same was he. 1698 "Of all doth meet my vision," / Hagen then spake, "Would I wish for nothing / with me hence to take But alone the shield that hanging / on yonder wall I see. The same I'd gladly carry / into Etzel's land with me." 1699 When the stately margravine / Hagen's words did hear, Brought they to mind her sorrow, / nor might she stop a tear. She thought again full sadly / how her son Nudung fell, Slain by hand of Wittich; / and did her breast with anguish swell. 1700 She spake unto the hero: / "The shield to thee I'll give. O would to God in heaven / that he still did live, Whose hand erstwhile did wield it! / In battle fell he low, And I, a wretched mother, / must weep with never-ending woe. 1701 Thereat the noble lady / up from the settle rose, And soon her arms all snow-white / did the shield enclose. She bore it unto Hagen, / who made obeisance low; The gift she might with honor / upon so valiant thane bestow. 1702 O'er it, to keep its color, / a shining cover lay With precious stones all studded, / nor ever shone the day Upon a shield more costly; / if e'er a longing eye Did covet to possess it, / scarce thousand marks the same might buy. 1703 The shield in charge gave Hagen / thence away to bear. Before his host then Dankwart / himself presented there, On whom the margrave's daughter / did costly dress bestow. Wherein anon in Hunland / arrayed full stately he did go. 1704 Whate'er of gifts by any / was accepted there, Them had his hand ne'er taken, / but that intent all were To do their host an honor / who gave with hand so free. By his guests in combat / soon doomed was he slain to be. 1705 Volker the valiant / to Gotelinde came And stood in courteous manner / with fiddle 'fore the dame. Sweet melodies he played her / and sang his songs thereby, For thought he from Bechelaren / to take departure presently. 1706 The margravine bade to her / a casket forth to bear. And now of presents given / full freely may ye hear. Therefrom she took twelve armbands / and drew them o'er his hand. "These shall thou with thee carry, / as ridest thou to Etzel's land, 1707 "And for my sake shalt wear them / when at court thou dost appear, That when thou hither comest / I may the story hear How thou hast done me honor / at the high festival." What did wish the lady, / faithfully performed he all. 1708 Thus to his guests the host spake: / "That ye more safely fare, Myself will give you escort / and bid them well beware That upon the highway / no ill on you be wrought." Thereat his sumpter horses / straightway laden forth were brought 1709 The host was well prepared / with five hundred men With horse and rich attire. / These led he with him then In right joyous humor / to the high festival. Alive to Bechelaren / again came never one of all. 1710 Thence took his leave Sir Ruediger / with kiss full lovingly; As fitting was for Giselher, / likewise the same did he. With loving arms enfolding / caressed they ladies fair. To many a maid the parting / did bring anon full bitter tear. 1711 On all sides then the windows / were open wide flung, As with his train of warriors / the host to saddle sprung. I ween their hearts did tell them / how they should sorrow deep. For there did many a lady / and many a winsome maiden weep. 1712 For dear friends left behind him / grieved many a knight full sore. Whom they at Bechelaren / should behold no more. Yet rode they off rejoicing / down across the sand Hard by the Danube river / on their way to Etzel's land. 1713 Then spake to the Burgundians / the gallant knight and bold, Ruediger the noble: / "Now let us not withhold The story of our coming / unto the Hun's country. Unto the royal Etzel / might tidings ne'er more welcome be." 1714 Down in haste through Austria / the messenger did ride, Who told unto the people / soon on every side, From Worms beyond Rhine river / were high guests journeying. Nor unto Etzel's people / gladder tidings might ye bring. 1715 Onward spurred the messengers / who did the message bear, How now in Hunnish country / the Nibelungen were. "Kriemhild, lofty lady, / warm thy welcome be; In stately manner hither / come thy loving brothers three." 1716 Within a lofty casement / the Lady Kriemhild stood, Looking for her kinsmen, / as friend for friend full good. From her father's country / saw she many a knight; Eke heard the king the tidings, / and laughed thereat for sheer delight. 1717 "Now well my heart rejoiceth," / spake Lady Kriemhild. "Hither come my kinsmen / with many a new-wrought shield And brightly shining hauberk: / who gold would have from me, Be mindful of my sorrow; / to him I'll ever gracious be." TWENTY-EIGHTH ADVENTURE How the Burgundians came to Etzel's Castle 1718 When that the men of Burgundy / were come into the land, He of Bern did hear it, / the aged Hildebrand. He told it to his master, / who sore thereat did grieve; The knight so keen and gallant / bade he in fitting way receive. 1719 Wolfhart the valiant / bade lead the heroes forth. In company with Dietrich / rode many a thane of worth, As out to receive them / across the plain he went, Where might ye see erected / already many a stately tent. 1720 When that of Tronje Hagen / them far away espied, Unto his royal masters / full courteously he said: "Now shall ye, doughty riders, / down from the saddle spring, And forward go to meet them / that here to you a welcome bring. 1721 "A train there cometh yonder, / well knew I e'en when young. Thanes they are full doughty / of the land of Amelung. He of Bern doth lead them, / and high of heart they are; To scorn their proffered greeting / shall ye in sooth full well beware." 1722 Dismounted then with Dietrich, / (as was meet and right,) Attended by his squire / many a gallant knight. They went unto the strangers / and greeted courteously The knights that far had ridden / from the land of Burgundy. 1723 When then Sir Dietrich / saw them coming near, What words the thane delivered, / now may ye willing hear, Unto Ute's children. / Their journey grieved him sore. He weened that Ruediger knowing / had warned what lay for them in store. 1724 "Welcome be ye, Masters, / Gunther and Giselher, Gernot and Hagen, / welcome eke Volker And the valiant Dankwart. / Do ye not understand? Kriemhild yet sore bemoaneth / the hero of Nibelungen land." 1725 "Long time may she be weeping," / Hagen spake again; "In sooth for years a many / dead he lies and slain. To the monarch now of Hunland / should she devoted be: Siegfried returneth never, / buried now long time is he." 1726 "How Siegfried's death was compassed, / let now the story be: While liveth Lady Kriemhild, / look ye for injury." Thus did of Bern Sir Dietrich / unto them declare: "Hope of the Nibelungen, / of her vengeance well beware." 1727 "Whereof shall I be fearful?" / the lofty monarch spake: "Etzel hath sent us message, / (why further question make?) That we should journey hither / into his country. Eke hath my sister Kriemhild / oft wished us here as guests to see. 1728 "I give thee honest counsel," / Hagen then did say, "Now shalt thou here Sir Dietrich / and his warriors pray To tell thee full the story, / if aught may be designed, And let thee know more surely / how stands the Lady Kriemhild's mind." 1729 Then went to speak asunder / the lordly monarchs three, Gunther and Gernot, / and Dietrich went he. "Now tell us true, thou noble / knight of Bern and kind, If that perchance thou knowest / how stands thy royal mistress' mind." 1730 The lord of Bern gave answer: / "What need to tell you more? I hear each day at morning / weeping and wailing sore The wife of royal Etzel, / who piteous doth complain To God in heaven that Siegfried / her doughty spouse from her was ta'en." 1731 "Then must we e'en abide it," / was the fearless word Of Volker the Fiddler, / "what we here have heard. To court we yet shall journey / and make full clear to all, If that to valiant warriors / may aught amid the Huns befall." 1732 The gallant thanes of Burgundy / unto court then rode, And went in stately manner / as was their country's mode. Full many a man in Hunland / looked eagerly to see Of what manner Hagen, / Tronje's doughty thane, might be. 1733 For that was told the story / (and great the wonder grew) How that of Netherland / Siegfried he slew, That was the spouse of Kriemhild, / in strength without a peer, Hence a mickle questioning / after Hagen might ye hear. 1734 Great was the knight of stature, / may ye know full true, Built with breast expansive; / mingled was the hue Of his hair with silver; / long he was of limb; As he strode stately forward / might ye mark his visage grim. 1735 Then were the thanes of Burgundy / unto quarters shown, But the serving-man of Gunther / by themselves alone. Thus the queen did counsel, / so filled she was with hate. Anon where they were harbored / the train did meet with direst fate. 1736 Dankwart, Hagen's brother, / marshal was he. To him the king his followers / commended urgently, That he provide them plenty / and have of them good care. The noble knight of Burgundy / their safety well in mind did bear. 1737 By her train attended, / Queen Kriemhild went To greet the Nibelungen, / yet false was her intent. She kissed her brother Giselher / and took him by the hand: Thereat of Tronje Hagen / did tighter draw his helmet's band. 1733 "After such like greeting," / the doughty Hagen spake, "Let all watchful warriors / full precaution take: Differs wide the greeting / on masters and men bestowed. Unhappy was the hour / when to this festival we rode." 1739 She spake: "Now be ye welcome / to whom ye welcome be. For sake of friendship never / ye greeting have from me. Tell me now what bring ye / from Worms across the Rhine, That ye so greatly welcome / should ever be to land of mine?" 1740 "An I had only known it," / Hagen spake again, "That thou didst look for present / from hand of every thane, I were, methinks, so wealthy / --had I me bethought-- That I unto this country / likewise to thee my gift had brought." 1741 "Now shall ye eke the story / to me more fully say: The Nibelungen treasure, / where put ye that away? My own possession was it, / as well ye understand. That same ye should have brought me / hither unto Etzel's land." 1742 "In sooth, my Lady Kriemhild, / full many a day hath flown Since of the Nibelungen / hoard I aught have known. Into the Rhine to sink it / my lords commanded me: Verily there must it / until the day of judgment be." 1743 Thereto the queen gave answer: / "Such was e'en my thought. Thereof right little have ye / unto me hither brought, Although myself did own it / and once o'er it held sway. 'Tis cause that I for ever / have full many a mournful day." 1744 "The devil have I brought thee," / Hagen did declare. "My shield it is so heavy / that I have to bear, And my plaited armor; / my shining helmet see, And sword in hand I carry, / --so might I nothing bring for thee." 1745 Then spake the royal lady / unto the warriors all: "Weapon shall not any / bear into the hall. To me now for safe keeping, / ye thanes shall give them o'er." "In sooth," gave answer Hagen, / "such thing shall happen nevermore. 1746 "Such honor ne'er I covet, / royal lady mild, That to its place of keeping / thou shouldst bear my shield With all my other armor, / --for thou art a queen. Such taught me ne'er my sire: / myself will be my chamberlain." 1747 "Alack of these my sorrows!" / the Lady Kriemhild cried; "Wherefore will now my brother / and Hagen not confide To me their shields for keeping? / Some one did warning give. Knew I by whom 'twas given, / brief were the space that he might live." 1748 Thereto the mighty Dietrich / in wrath his answer gave: "'Tis I who now these noble / lords forewarned have, And Hagen, knight full valiant / of the land of Burgundy. Now on! thou devil's mistress, / let not the deed my profit be." 1749 Great shame thereat did Kriemhild's / bosom quickly fill; She feared lest Dietrich's anger / should work her grievous ill. Naught she spake unto them / as thence she swiftly passed, But fierce the lightning glances / that on her enemies she cast. 1750 By hand then grasped each, other / doughty warriors twain: Hight the one was Dietrich, / with Hagen, noble thane. Then spake in courteous manner / that knight of high degree: "That ye are come to Hunland, / 'tis very sorrow unto me; 1751 "For what hath here been spoken / by the lofty queen." Then spake of Tronje Hagen: / "Small cause to grieve, I ween." Held converse thus together / those brave warriors twain, King Etzel which perceiving / thus a questioning began: 1752 "I would learn full gladly," / --in such wise spake he-- "Who were yonder warrior, / to whom so cordially Doth greeting give Sir Dietrich. / Meseemeth high his mood. Whosoe'er his sire, / a thane he is of mettle good." 1753 Unto the king gave answer / of Kriemhild's train a knight: "Born he was of Tronje, / Aldrian his sire hight. How merry here his bearing, / a thane full grim is he. That I have spoken truly, / shalt thou anon have cause to see." 1754 "How may I then perceive it / that fierce his wrath doth glow?" Naught of basest treachery / yet the king did know, That anon Queen Kriemhild / 'gainst her kinsmen did contrive, Whereby returned from Hunland / not one of all their train alive. 1755 "Well knew I Aldrian, / he once to me was thane: Praise and mickle honor / he here by me did gain. Myself a knight did make him, / and gave him of my gold. Helke, noble lady, / did him in highest favor hold. 1756 "Thereby know I fully / what Hagen since befell. Two stately youths as hostage / at my court did dwell, He and Spanish Walter, / from youth to manhood led. Hagen sent I homeward; / Walter with Hildegunde fled." 1757 He thought on ancient story / that long ago befell. His doughty friend of Tronje / knew he then right well, Whose youthful valor erstwhile / did such assistance lend. Through him in age he must be / bereft of many a dearest friend. TWENTY-NINTH ADVENTURE How He arose not before Her 1758 Then parted from each other / the noble warriors twain, Hagen of Tronje / and Dietrich, lofty thane. Then did King Gunther's warrior / cast a glance around, Seeking a companion / the same he eke full quickly found. 1759 As standing there by Giselher / he did Volker see, He prayed the nimble Fiddler / to bear him company, For that full well he knew it / how grim he was of mood, And that in all things was he / a knight of mettle keen and good. 1760 While yet their lords were standing / there in castle yard Saw ye the two knights only / walking thitherward Across the court far distant / before the palace wide. The chosen thanes recked little / what might through any's hate betide. 1761 They sate them down on settle / over against a hall, Wherein dwelt Lady Kriemhild, / beside the palace wall. Full stately their attire / on stalwart bodies shone. All that did look upon them / right gladly had the warriors known. 1762 Like unto beasts full savage / were they gaped upon, The two haughty heroes, / by full many a Hun. Eke from a casement Etzel's / wife did them perceive: Once more to behold them / must fair Lady Kriemhild grieve. 1763 It called to mind her sorrow, / and she to weep began, Whereat did mickle wonder / many an Etzel's man, What grief had thus so sudden / made her sad of mood. Spake she: "That hath Hagen, / ye knights of mettle keen and good." 1764 They to their mistress answered: / "Such thing, how hath it been? For that thee right joyous / we but now have seen. Ne'er lived he so daring / that, having wrought thee ill, His life he must not forfeit, / if but to vengeance point thy will." 1765 "I live but to requite him / that shall avenge my wrong; Whate'er be his desire / shall unto him belong. Prostrate I beseech you," / --so spake the monarch's wife-- "Avenge me upon Hagen, / and forfeit surely be his life." 1766 Three score of valiant warriors / made ready then straightway To work the will of Kriemhild / and her best obey By slaying of Sir Hagen, / the full valiant thane, And eke the doughty Fiddler; / by shameful deed thus sought they gain. 1767 When the queen beheld there / so small their company, In full angry humor / to the warriors spake she: "What there ye think to compass, / forego such purpose yet: So small in numbers never / dare ye Hagen to beset. 1768 "How doughty e'er be Hagen, / and known his valor wide, A man by far more doughty / that sitteth him beside, Volker the Fiddler: / a warrior grim is he. In sooth may not so lightly / the heroes twain confronted be." 1769 When that she thus had spoken, / ready soon were seen Four hundred stalwart warriors; / for was the lofty queen Full intent upon it / to work them evil sore. Therefrom for all the strangers / was mickle sorrow yet in store. 1770 When that complete attired / were here retainers seen, Unto the knights impatient / in such wise spake the queen: "Now bide ye yet a moment / and stand ye ready so, While I with crown upon me / unto my enemies shall go. 1771 "And list while I accuse him / how he hath wrought me bane, Hagen of Tronje, / Gunther's doughty thane. I know his mood so haughty, / naught he'll deny of all. Nor reck I what of evil / therefrom may unto him befall." 1772 Then saw the doughty Fiddler / --he was a minstrel keen-- Adown the steps descending / the high and stately queen Who issued from the castle. / When he the queen espied, Spake the valiant Volker / to him was seated by his side: 1773 "Look yonder now, friend Hagen, / how that she hither hies Who to this land hath called us / in such treacherous wise. No monarch's wife I ever / saw followed by such band Of warriors armed for battle, / that carry each a sword in hand. 1774 "Know'st thou, perchance, friend Hagen, / if hate to thee they bear? Then would I well advise thee / of them full well beware And guard both life and honor. / That methinks were good, For if I much mistake not, / full wrathful is the warriors' mood. 1775 "Of many eke among them / so broad the breasts do swell, That who would guard him 'gainst them / betimes would do it well. I ween that 'neath their tunics / they shining mail-coats wear: Yet might I never tell thee, / 'gainst whom such evil mind they bear." 1776 Then spake all wrathful-minded / Hagen the warrior keen: "On me to vent their fury / is their sole thought, I ween, That thus with brandished weapons / their onward press we see. Despite them all yet trow I / to come safe home to Burgundy. 1777 "Now tell me, friend Volker, / wilt thou beside me stand, If seek to work me evil / here Kriemhild's band? That let me hear right truly, / as I am dear to thee. By thy side forever / shall my service faithful be." 1778 "Full surely will I help thee," / the minstrel straight replied; "And saw I e'en a monarch / with all his men beside Hither come against us, / the while a sword I wield Not fear shall ever prompt me / from thy side one pace to yield." 1779 "Now God in heaven, O Volker, / give thy high heart its meed. Will they forsooth assail me, / whereof else have I need? Wilt thou thus stand beside me / as here is thy intent, Let come all armed these warriors, / on whatsoever purpose bent." 1780 "Now rise we from this settle," / the minstrel spake once more, "While that the royal lady / passeth here before. To her be done this honor / as unto lady high. Ourselves in equal manner / shall we honor eke thereby." 1781 "Nay, nay! as me thou lovest," / Hagen spake again, "For so would sure imagine / here each hostile thane That 'twere from fear I did it, / should I bear me so. For sake of never any / will I from this settle go. 1782 "Undone we both might leave it / in sooth more fittingly. Wherefore should I honor / who bears ill-will to me? Such thing will I do never, / the while I yet have life. Nor reck I aught how hateth / me the royal Etzel's wife." 1783 Thereat defiant Hagen / across his knee did lay A sword that shone full brightly, / from whose knob did play The light of glancing jasper / greener than blade of grass. Well perceived Kriemhild / that it erstwhile Siegfried's was. 1784 When she the sword espied, / to weep was sore her need. The hilt was shining golden, / the sheath a band of red. As it recalled her sorrow, / her tears had soon begun; I ween for that same purpose / 'twas thus by dauntless Hagen done. 1785 Eke the valiant Volker / a fiddle-bow full strong Unto himself drew nearer; / mickle it was and long, Like unto a broad-sword / full sharp that was and wide. So sat they all undaunted / the stately warriors side by side. 1786 There sat the thanes together / in such defiant wise That would never either / from the settle rise Through fear of whomsoever. / Then strode before their feet The lofty queen, and wrathful / did thus the doughty warriors greet. 1787 Quoth she: "Now tell me, Hagen, / upon whose command Barest thou thus to journey / hither to this land, And knowest well what sorrow / through thee my heart must bear. Wert thou not reft of reason, / then hadst thou kept thee far from here." 1788 "By none have I been summoned," / Hagen gave reply. "Three lofty thanes invited / were to this country: The same I own as masters / and service with them find. Whene'er they make court journey / 'twere strange should I remain behind." 1789 Quoth she: "Now tell me further, / wherefore didst thou that Whereby thou hast deserved / my everlasting hate? 'Twas thou that slewest Siegfried, / spouse so dear to me, The which, till life hath ended, / must ever cause for weeping be." 1790 Spake he: "Why parley further, / since further word were vain? E'en I am that same Hagen / by whom was Siegfried slain, That deft knight of valor. / How sore by him 'twas paid That the Lady Kriemhild / dared the fair Brunhild upbraid! 1791 "Beyond all cavil is it, / high and royal dame, Of all the grievous havoc / I do bear the blame. Avenge it now who wisheth, / woman or man tho't be. An I unto thee lie not, / I've wrought thee sorest injury." 1792 She spake: "Now hear, ye warriors, / how denies he not at all The cause of all my sorrow. / Whate'er may him befall Reck I not soever, / that know ye, Etzel's men." The overweening warriors / blank gazed upon each other then. 1793 Had any dared the onset, / seen it were full plain The palm must be awarded / to the companions twain, Who had in storm of battle / full oft their prowess shown. What that proud band designed / through fear must now be left undone. 1794 Outspake one of their number: / "Wherefore look thus to me? What now I thought to venture / left undone shall be, Nor for reward of any / think I my life to lose; To our destruction lures us / here the royal Etzel's spouse." 1795 Then spake thereby another: / "Like mind therein have I. Though ruddy gold were offered / like towers piled high, Yet would I never venture / to stir this Fiddler's spleen. Such are the rapid glances / that darting from his eyes I've seen. 1796 "Likewise know I Hagen / from youthful days full well, Nor more about his valor / to me need any tell. In two and twenty battles / I the knight have seen, Whereby sorest sorrow / to many a lady's heart hath been. 1797 "When here they were with Etzel, / he and the knight of Spain Bore storm of many a battle / in many a warlike train For sake of royal honor, / so oft thereof was need. Wherefore of right are honors / high the valiant Hagen's meed. 1798 "Then was yet the hero / but a child in years; Now how hoary-headed / who were his youthful feres, To wisdom now attained, / a warrior grim and strong, Eke bears he with him Balmung, / the which he gained by mickle wrong." 1799 Therewith the matter ended, / and none the fight dared start, Whereat the Lady Kriemhild / full heavy was of heart. Her warriors thence did vanish, / for feared they death indeed At hands of the Fiddler, / whereof right surely was there need. 1800 Outspake then the Fiddler: / "Well we now have seen, That enemies here do greet us, / as we forewarned have been. Back unto the monarchs / let us straight repair, That none against our masters / to raise a hostile hand may dare. 1801 "How oft from impious purpose / doth fear hold back the hand, Where friend by friend doth only / firm in friendship stand, Until right sense give warning / to leave the thing undone. Thus wisdom hath prevented / the harm of mortals many a one." 1802 "Heed I will thy counsel," / Hagen gave reply. Then passed they where / the monarchs found they presently In high state received / within the palace court. Loud the valiant Volker / straight began after this sort 1803 Unto his royal masters: / "How long will ye stand so, That foes may press upon you? / To the king ye now shall go, And from his lips hear spoken / how is his mind to you." The valiant lords and noble / consorted then by two and two. 1804 Of Bern the lofty Dietrich / took by the hand Gunther the lordly monarch / of Burgundian land; Irnfried escorted Gernot, / a knight of valor keen, And Ruediger with Giselher / going unto the court was seen. 1805 Howe'er with fere consorted / there any thane might be, Volker and Hagen / ne'er parted company, Save in storm of battle / when they did reach life's bourne, 'Twas cause that highborn ladies / anon in grievous way must mourn. 1806 Unto the court then passing / with the kings were seen. Of their lofty retinue / a thousand warriors keen, And threescore thanes full valiant / that followed in their train; The same from his own country / had doughty Hagen with him ta'en. 1807 Hawart and eke Iring, / chosen warriors twain, Saw ye walk together / in the royal train. By Dankwart and Wolfhart, / a thane of high renown, Was high courtly bearing / there before the others shown. 1808 When the lord of Rhineland / passed into the hall, Etzel mighty monarch / waited not at all, But sprang from off his settle / when he beheld him nigh. By monarch ne'er was given / greeting so right heartily. 1809 "Welcome be, Lord Gunther, / and eke Sir Gernot too, And your brother Giselher. / My greetings unto you I sent with honest purpose / to Worms across the Rhine; And welcome all your followers / shall be unto this land of mine. 1810 "Right welcome be ye likewise, / doughty warriors twain, Volker the full valiant, / and Hagen dauntless thane, To me and to my lady / here in my country. Unto the Rhine to greet you / many a messenger sent she." 1811 Then spake of Tronje Hagen: / "Thereof I'm well aware, And did I with my masters / not thus to Hunland fare, To do thee honor had I / ridden unto thy land." Then took the lofty monarch / the honored strangers by the hand. 1812 He led them to the settle / whereon himself he sat, Then poured they for the strangers / --with care they tended that-- In goblets wide and golden / mead and mulberry wine, And bade right hearty welcome / unto the knights afar from Rhine. 1813 Then spake the monarch Etzel: / "This will I freely say: Naught in this world might happen / to bring my heart more joy, Than that ye lofty heroes / thus are come to me. The queen from mickle sadness / thereby make ye likewise free. 1814 "To me 'twas mickle wonder / wherein had I transgressed, That I for friends had won me / so many a noble guest, Yet ye had never deigned / to come to my country. 'Tis now turned cause of gladness / that you as guests I here may see." 1815 Thereto gave answer Ruediger, / a knight of lofty mind: "Well mayst thou joy to see them; / right honor shalt thou find And naught but noble bearing / in my high mistress' kin. With them for guest thou likewise / many a stately thane dost win." 1816 At turn of sun in summer / were the knights arrived At mighty Etzel's palace. / Ne'er hath monarch lived That lordly guests did welcome / with higher compliment. When come was time of eating, / the king with them to table went. 1817 Amid his guests more stately / a host was seated ne'er. They had in fullest measure / of drink and goodly fare; Whate'er they might desire, / they ready found the same. Tales of mickle wonder / had spread abroad the heroes' fame. THIRTIETH ADVENTURE How they kept Guard 1818 And now the day was ended / and nearing was the night. Came then the thought with longing / unto each way-worn knight, When that they might rest them / and to their beds be shown. 'Twas mooted first by Hagen / and straight was answer then made known. 1819 To Etzel spake then Gunther: / "Fair days may God thee give! To bed we'll now betake us, / an be it by thy leave; We'll come betimes at morning, / if so thy pleasure be." From his guests the monarch / parted then full courteously. 1820 Upon the guests on all sides / the Huns yet rudely pressed, Whereat the valiant Volker / these words to them addressed: "How dare ye 'fore these warriors / thus beset the way? If that ye desist not, / rue such rashness soon ye may. 1821 "Let fall will I on some one / such stroke of fiddle-bow, That eyes shall fill with weeping / if he hath friend to show. Why make not way before us, / as fitting were to do! Knights by name ye all are, / but knighthood's ways unknown to you." 1822 When outspake the Fiddler / thus so wrathfully Backward glanced bold Hagen / to see what this might be. Quoth he: "He redes you rightly, / this keen minstrel knight. Ye followers of Kriemhild, / now pass to rest you for the night. 1823 "The thing whereof ye're minded / will none dare do, I ween. If aught ye purpose 'gainst us, / on the morrow be that seen, And let us weary strangers / the night in quiet pass; I ween, with knights of honor / such evermore the custom was." 1824 Then were led the strangers / into a spacious hall Where they found prepared / for the warriors one and all Beds adorned full richly, / that were both wide and long. Yet planned the Lady Kriemhild / to work on them the direst wrong. 1825 Rich quilted mattress covers / of Arras saw ye there Lustrous all and silken, / and spreading sheets there were Wrought of silk of Araby, / the best might e'er be seen. O'er them lay rich embroidered / stuffs that cast a brilliant sheen. 1826 Coverlets of ermine / full many might ye see, With sullen sable mingled, / whereunder peacefully They should rest the night through / till came the shining day. A king with all retinue / ne'er, I ween, so stately lay. 1827 "Alack for these night-quarters!" / quoth young Giselher, "Alack for my companions / who this our journey share! How kind so e'er my sister's / hospitality, Dead by her devising, / I fear me, are we doomed to be." 1828 "Let now no fears disturb you," / Hagen gave reply; "Through the hours of sleeping / keep the watch will I. I trust full well to guard you / until return the day, Thereof be never fearful; / let then preserve him well who may." 1829 Inclined they all before him / thereat to give him grace. Then sought they straight their couches; / in sooth 'twas little space Until was softly resting / every stately man. But Hagen, valiant hero, / the while to don his armor gan. 1830 Spake then to him the Fiddler, / Volker a doughty thane: "I'll be thy fellow, Hagen, / an wilt thou not disdain, While watch this night thou keepest, / until do come the morn." Right heartily the hero / to Volker then did thanks return. 1831 "God in heaven requite thee, / Volker, trusty fere. In all my time of trouble / wished I none other near, None other but thee only, / when dangers round me throng. I'll well repay that favor, / if death withhold its hand so long." 1832 Arrayed in glittering armor / both soon did ready stand; Each did take unto him / a mighty shield in hand, And passed without the portal / there to keep the way. Thus were the strangers guarded, / and trusty watchers eke had they. 1833 Volker the valiant, / as he sat before the hall, Leaned his trusty buckler / meanwhile against the wall, Then took in hand his fiddle / as he was wont to do: All times the thane would render / unto his friends a service true. 1834 Beneath the hall's wide portal / he sat on bench of stone; Than he a bolder fiddler / was there never none. As from his chords sweet echoes / resounded through the hall, Thanks for glad refreshment / had Volker from the warriors all. 1835 Then from the strings an echo / the wide hall did fill, For in his fiddle-playing / the knight had strength and skill. Softer then and sweeter / to fiddle he began And wiled to peaceful slumber / many an anxious brooding man. 1836 When they were wrapped in slumber / and he did understand, Then took again the warrior / his trusty shield in hand And passed without the portal / to guard the entrance tower, And safe to keep his fellows / where Kriemhild's crafty men did lower. 1837 About the hour of midnight, / or earlier perchance, The eye of valiant Volker / did catch a helmet's glance Afar from out the darkness: / the men of Kriemhild sought How that upon the strangers / might grievous scathe in stealth be wrought. 1838 Quoth thereat the Fiddler: / "Friend Hagen, 'tis full clear That we do well together / here this watch to share. I see before us yonder / men armed for the fight; I ween they will attack us, / if I their purpose judge aright." 1839 "Be silent, then," spake Hagen, / "and let them come more nigh. Ere that they perceive us / shall helmets sit awry, By good swords disjointed / that in our hands do swing. Tale of vigorous greeting / shall they back to Kriemhild bring." 1840 Amid the Hunnish warriors / one full soon did see, That well the door was guarded; / straightway then cried he: "The thing we here did purpose / 'tis need we now give o'er, For I behold the Fiddler / standing guard before the door. 1841 "Upon his head a helmet / of glancing light is seen, Welded strong and skilful, / dintless, of clearest sheen. The mail-rings of his armor / do sparkle like the fire, Beside him stands eke Hagen; / safe are the strangers from our ire." 1842 Straightway they back returned. / When Volker that did see, Unto his companion / wrathfully spake he: "Now let me to those caitiffs / across the court-yard go; What mean they by such business, / from Kriemhild's men I fain would know." 1843 "No, as thou dost love me," / Hagen straight replied; "If from this hall thou partest, / such ill may thee betide At hands of these bold warriors / and from the swords they bear, That I must haste to help thee, / though here our kinsmen's bane it were. 1844 "Soon as we two together / have joined with them in fight, A pair or two among them / will surely hasten straight Hither to this hall here, / and work such havoc sore Upon our sleeping brethren, / as must be mourned evermore." 1845 Thereto gave answer Volker: / "So much natheless must be, That they do learn full certain / how I the knaves did see, That the men of Kriemhild / hereafter not deny What they had wrought full gladly / here with foulest treachery." 1846 Straightway then unto them / aloud did Volker call: "How go ye thus in armor, / ye valiant warriors all? Or forth, perchance, a-robbing, / Kriemhild's men, go ye? Myself and my companion / shall ye then have for company." 1847 Thereto no man gave answer. / Wrathful grew his mood: "Fie, ye caitiff villains," / spake the hero good, "Would ye us so foully / have murdered while we slept? With knights so high in honor / full seldom thus hath faith been kept." 1848 Then unto Queen Kriemhild / were the tidings borne, How her men did fail their purpose: / 'twas cause for her to mourn. Yet otherwise she wrought it, / for grim she was of mood: Anon through her must perish / full many a valorous knight and good. THIRTY-FIRST ADVENTURE How they went to Mass 1849 "So cool doth grow my armor," / Volker made remark, "I ween but little longer / will endure the dark. By the air do I perceive it, / that soon will break the day." Then waked they many a warrior / who still in deepest slumber lay. 1850 When brake the light of morning / athwart the spacious hall, Hagen gan awaken / the stranger warriors all, If that they to the minster / would go to holy mass. After the Christian custom, / of bells a mickle ringing was. 1851 There sang they all uneven, / that plainly might ye see How Christian men and heathen / did not full well agree. Each one of Gunther's warriors / would hear the service sung, So were they all together / up from their night-couches sprung. 1852 Then did the warriors lace them / in so goodly dress, That never heroes any, / that king did e'er possess, More richly stood attired; / that Hagen grieved to see. Quoth he: "Ye knights, far other / here must your attire be. 1853 "Yea, know among you many / how here the case doth stand. Bear ye instead of roses / your good swords in hand, For chaplets all bejewelled / your glancing helmets good, Since we have well perceived / how is the angry Kriemhild's mood. 1854 "To-day must we do battle, / that will I now declare. Instead of silken tunic / shall ye good hauberks wear, And for embroidered mantle / a trusty shield and wide, That ye may well defend you, / if ye must others' anger bide. 1855 "My masters well beloved, / knights and kinsmen true, 'Tis meet that ye betake you / unto the minster too, That God do not forsake you / in peril and in need, For certain now I make you / that death is nigh to us indeed. 1856 "Forget ye not whatever / wrong ye e'er have done, But there 'fore God right meekly / all your errors own; Thereto would I advise you, / ye knights of high degree, For God alone in heaven / may will that other mass ye see." 1857 Thus went they to the minster, / the princes and their men. Within the holy churchyard / bade them Hagen then Stand all still together / that they part not at all. Quoth he: "Knows not any / what may at hands of Huns befall. 1858 "Let stand, good friends, all ready, / your shields before your feet, That if ever any / would you in malice greet, With deep-cut wound ye pay him; / that is Hagen's rede, That from men may never / aught but praises be your meed." 1859 Volker and Hagen, / the twain thence did pass Before the broad minster. / Therein their purpose was That the royal Kriemhild / must meet them where they stood There athwart her pathway. / In sooth full grim she was of mood. 1860 Then came the royal Etzel / and eke his spouse full fair. Attired were the warriors / all in raiment rare That following full stately / with her ye might see; The dust arose all densely / round Kriemhild's mickle company. 1861 When the lofty monarch / thus all armed did see The kings and their followers, / straightway then cried he: "How see I in this fashion / my friends with helm on head? By my troth I sorrow / if ill to them have happened. 1862 "I'll gladly make atonement / as doth to them belong. Hath any them affronted / or done them aught of wrong, To me 'tis mickle sorrow, / well may they understand. To serve them am I ready, / in whatsoever they command." 1863 Thereto gave answer Hagen: / "Here hath wronged us none. 'Tis custom of my masters / to keep their armor on Till full three days be over, / when high festival they hold. Did any here molest us, / to Etzel would the thing be told." 1864 Full well heard Kriemhild likewise / how Hagen gave reply. Upon him what fierce glances / flashed furtively her eye! Yet betray she would not / the custom of her country, Though well she long had known it / in the land of Burgundy. 1865 How grim soe'er and mighty / the hate to them she bore, Had any told to Etzel / how stood the thing before, Well had he prevented / what there anon befell. So haughty were they minded / that none to him the same would tell. 1866 With the queen came forward / there a mighty train, But no two handbreadths yielded / yet those warriors twain To make way before her. / The Huns did wrathful grow, That their mistress passing / should by them be jostled so. 1867 Etzel's highborn pages / were sore displeased thereat, And had upon the strangers / straightway spent their hate, But that they durst not do it / their high lord before. There was a mickle pressing, / yet naught of anger happened more. 1868 When they thence were parting / from holy service done, On horse came quickly prancing / full many a nimble Hun. With the Lady Kriemhild / went many a maiden fair, And eke to make her escort / seven thousand knights rode there. 1869 Kriemhild with her ladies / within the casement sat By Etzel, mighty monarch, / --full pleased he was thereat. They wished to view the tourney / of knights beyond compare. What host of strangers riding / thronged the court before them there! 1870 The marshal with the squires / not in vain ye sought, Dankwart the full valiant: / with him had he brought His royal master's followers / of the land of Burgundy. For the valiant Nibelungen / the steeds well saddled might ye see. 1871 When their steeds they mounted, / the kings and all their men, Volker thane full doughty, / gave his counsel then, That after their country's fashion / they ride a mass mellay. His rede the heroes followed / and tourneyed in full stately way. 1872 The knight had counsel given / in sooth that pleased them well; The clash of arms in mellay / soon full loud did swell. Many a valiant warrior / did thereto resort, As Etzel and Kriemhild / looked down upon the spacious court. 1873 Came there unto the mellay / six hundred knights of those That followed Dietrich's bidding, / the strangers to oppose. Pastime would they make them / with the men of Burgundy, And if he leave had granted. / had done the same right willingly. 1874 In their company rode there / how many a warrior bold! When unto Sir Dietrich / then the thing was told, Forbade he that 'gainst Gunther's / men they join the play. He feared lest harm befall them, / and well his counsel did he weigh. 1875 When of Bern the warriors / thence departed were, Came they of Bechelaren, / the men of Ruediger, Bearing shield five hundred, / and rode before the hall; Rather had the margrave / that they came there not at all. 1876 Prudently then rode he / amid their company And told unto his warriors / how they might plainly see, That the men of Gunther / were in evil mood: Did they forego the mellay, / please him better far it would. 1877 When they were thence departed, / the stately knights and bold, Came they of Thuringia, / as hath to us been told, And of them of Denmark / a thousand warriors keen. From crash of spear up-flying / full frequent were the splinters seen. 1878 Irnfried and Hawart / rode into the mellay, Whom the gallant men of Rhineland / received in knightly play: Full oft the men of Thuringia / they met in tournament, Whereby the piercing lance-point / through many a stately shield was sent. 1879 Eke with three thousand warriors / came Sir Bloedel there. Etzel and Kriemhild / were of his coming ware, As this play of chivalry / before them they did see. Now hoped the queen that evil / befall the men of Burgundy. 1880 Schrutan and Gibecke / rode into the mellay, Eke Ramung and Hornbog / after the Hunnish way; Yet must they come to standstill / 'fore the thanes of Burgundy. High against the palace / wall the splintered shafts did fly. 1881 How keen soe'er the contest, / 'twas naught but knightly sport. With shock of shields and lances / heard ye the palace court Loud give back the echo / where Gunther's men rode on. His followers in the jousting / on every side high honor won. 1882 So long they held such pastime / and with so mickle heat That through the broidered trappings / oozed clear drops of sweat From the prancing chargers / whereon the knights did ride. In full gallant manner / their skill against the Huns they tried. 1883 Then outspake the Fiddler, / Volker deft of hand: "These knights, I ween, too timid / are 'gainst us to stand. Oft did I hear the story / what hate to us they bore; Than this a fairer season / to vent it, find they nevermore." 1884 "Lead back unto the stables," / once more spake Volker then, "Now our weary chargers; / we'll ride perchance again When comes the cool of evening, / if fitting time there be. Mayhap the queen will honor / award to men of Burgundy." 1885 Beheld they then prick hither / one dressed in state so rare That of the Huns none other / might with him compare. Belike from castle tower / did watch his fair lady; So gay was his apparel / as it some knight's bride might be. 1886 Then again quoth Volker: / "How may I stay my hand? Yonder ladies' darling / a knock shall understand. Let no man here deter me, / I'll give him sudden check. How spouse of royal Etzel / thereat may rage, I little reck." 1887 "Nay, as thou dost love me," / straight King Gunther spake; "All men will but reproach us / if such affront we make. The Huns be first offenders, / for such would more befit." Still did the royal Etzel / in casement by Queen Kriemhild sit. 1888 "I'll add unto the mellay," / Hagen did declare; "Let now all these ladies / and knights be made aware How we can ride a charger; / 'twere well we make it known, For, come what may, small honor / shall here to Gunther's men be shown." 1889 Once more the nimble Volker / into the mellay spurred, Whereat full many a lady / soon to weep was heard. His lance right through the body / of that gay Hun he sent: 'Twas cause that many a woman / and maiden fair must sore lament. 1890 Straight dashed into the mellay / Hagen and his men. With three score of his warriors / spurred he quickly then Forward where the Fiddler / played so lustily. Etzel and Kriemhild / full plainly might the passage see. 1891 Then would the kings their minstrel / --that may ye fairly know-- Leave not all defenceless / there amid the foe. With them a thousand heroes / rode forth full dexterously, And soon had gained their purpose / with show of proudest chivalry. 1892 When in such rude fashion / the stately Hun was slain, Might ye hear his kinsmen / weeping loud complain. Then all around did clamor: / "Who hath the slayer been?" "None but the Fiddler was it, / Volker the minstrel keen." 1893 For swords and for shields then / called full speedily That slain margrave's kinsmen / of the Hun's country. To avenge him sought they / Volker in turn to slay. In haste down from the casement / royal Etzel made his way. 1894 Arose a mighty clamor / from the people all; The kings and men of Burgundy / dismounted 'fore the hall, And likewise their chargers / to the rear did send. Came then the mighty Etzel / and sought to bring the strife to end. 1895 From one of that Hun's kinsmen / who near by him did stand Snatched he a mighty weapon / quick from out his hand, And therewith backward smote them, / for fierce his anger wrought. "Shall thus my hospitality / unto these knights be brought to naught?" 1896 "If ye the valiant minstrel / here 'fore me should slay," Spake the royal Etzel, / "it were an evil day. When he the Hun impaled / I did observe full well, That not through evil purpose / but by mishap it so befell. 1897 "These my guests now must ye / ne'er disturb in aught." Himself became their escort. / Away their steeds were brought Unto the stables / by many a waiting squire, Who ready at their bidding / stood to meet their least desire. 1898 The host with the strangers / into the palace went, Nor would he suffer any / further his wrath to vent. Soon were the tables ready / and water for them did wait. Many then had gladly / on them of Rhineland spent their hate. 1899 Not yet the lords were seated / till some time was o'er. For Kriemhild o'er her sorrow / meantime did trouble sore. She spake: "Of Bern, O Master, / thy counsel grant to me, Thy help and eke thy mercy, / for here in sorry plight I be." 1900 To her gave answer Hildebrand, / a thane right praiseworthy: "Who harms the Nibelungen / shall ne'er have help of me, How great soe'er the guerdon. / Such deed he well may rue, For never yet did any / these gallant doughty knights subdue." 1901 Eke in courteous manner / Sir Dietrich her addressed: "Vain, O lofty mistress, / unto me thy quest. In sooth thy lofty kinsmen / have wronged me not at all, That I on thanes so valorous / should thus with murderous purpose fall. 1902 "Thy prayer doth thee small honor, / O high and royal dame, That upon thy kinsmen / thou so dost counsel shame. Thy grace to have they deemed / when came they to this land. Nevermore shall Siegfried / avenged be by Dietrich's hand." 1903 When she no guile discovered / in the knight of Bern, Unto Bloedel straightway / did she hopeful turn With promise of wide marches / that Nudung erst did own. Slew him later Dankwart / that he forgot the gift full soon. 1904 Spake she: "Do thou help me, / Sir Bloedel, I pray. Yea, within the palace / are foes of mine this day, Who erstwhile slew Siegfried, / spouse full dear to me. Who helps me to avenge it, / to him I'll e'er beholden be." 1905 Thereto gave answer Bloedel: / "Lady, be well aware, Ne'er to do them evil / 'fore Etzel may I dare, For to thy kinsmen, lady, / beareth he good will. Ne'er might the king me pardon, / wrought I upon them aught of ill." 1906 "But nay, Sir Bloedel, my favor / shall thou have evermore. Yea, give I thee for guerdon / silver and gold in store, And eke a fairest lady, / that Nudung erst should wed: By her fond embraces / may'st thou well be comforted. 1907 "The land and eke the castles, / all to thee I'll give; Yea, may'st thou, knight full noble, / in joyance ever live, Call'st thou thine the marches, / wherein did Nudung dwell. Whate'er this day I promise, / fulfil it all I will full well." 1908 When understood Sir Bloedel / what gain should be his share, And pleased him well the lady / for that she was so fair, By force of arms then thought he / to win her for his wife. Thereby the knight aspirant / was doomed anon to lose his life. 1909 "Unto the hall betake thee," / quoth he unto the queen, "Alarum I will make thee / ere any know, I ween. Atone shall surely Hagen / where he hath done thee wrong: To thee I'll soon give over / King Gunther's man in fetters strong." 1910 "To arms, to arms!" quoth Bloedel, / "my good warriors all: In their followers' quarters / upon the foe we'll fall. Herefrom will not release me / royal Etzel's wife. To win this venture therefore / fear not each one to lose his life." 1911 When at length Queen Kriemhild / found Bloedel well content To fulfil her bidding, / she to table went With the monarch Etzel / and eke a goodly band. Dire was the treason / she against the guests had planned. 1912 Since in none other manner / she knew the strife to start, (Kriemhild's ancient sorrow / still rankled in her heart), Bade she bring to table / Etzel's youthful son: By woman bent on vengeance / how might more awful deed be done? 1913 Went upon the instant / four of Etzel's men, And soon came bearing Ortlieb, / the royal scion, then Unto the princes' table, / where eke grim Hagen sate. The child was doomed to perish / by reason of his deadly hate. 1914 When the mighty monarch / then his child did see, Unto his lady's kinsmen / in manner kind spake he: "Now, my good friends, behold ye / here my only son, And child of your high sister: / may it bring you profit every one. 1915 "Grow he but like his kindred, / a valiant man he'll be, A mighty king and noble, / doughty and fair to see. Live I but yet a little, / twelve lands shall he command; May ye have faithful service / from the youthful Ortlieb's hand. 1916 "Therefore grant me favor, / ye good friends of mine; When to your country ride ye / again unto the Rhine, Shall ye then take with you / this your sister's son, And at your hands may ever / by the child full fair be done. 1917 "Bring him up in honor / until to manhood grown. If then in any country / hath wrong to you been done, He'll help you by his valor / vengeance swift to wreak." Eke heard the Lady Kriemhild / royal Etzel thus to speak. 1918 "Well might these my masters / on his faith rely, Grew he e'er to manhood," / Hagen made reply: "Yet is the prince, I fear me, / more early doomed of fate. 'Twere strange did any see me / ever at court on Ortlieb wait." 1919 The monarch glanced at Hagen, / sore grieved at what he heard; Although the king full gallant / thereto spake ne'er a word, Natheless his heart was saddened / and heavy was his mind. Nowise the mood of Hagen / was to merriment inclined. 1920 It grieved all the princes / and the royal host That of his child did Hagen / make such idle boast. That they must likewise leave it / unanswered, liked they not: They little weaned what havoc / should by the thane anon be wrought. THIRTY-SECOND ADVENTURE How Bloedel was Slain 1921 The knights by Bloedel summoned / soon armed and ready were, A thousand wearing hauberks / straightway did repair Where Dankwart sat at table / with many a goodly squire. Soon knight on knight was seeking / in fiercest way to vent his ire. 1922 When there Sir Bloedel / strode unto the board, Dankwart the marshal / thus spoke courteous word: "Unto this hall right welcome / good Sir Bloedel be. What business hast thou hither / is cause of wonder yet to me." 1923 "No greeting here befits thee," / spake Bloedel presently, "For that this my coming / now thy end must be, Through Hagen's fault, thy brother, / who Siegfried erstwhile slew To the Huns thou mak'st atonement, / and many another warrior too." 1924 "But nay, but nay, Sir Bloedel," / Dankwart spake thereto, "For so should we have reason / our coming here to rue. A child I was and little / when Siegfried lost his life, Nor know I why reproacheth / me the royal Etzel's wife." 1925 "In sooth I may the story / never fully tell. Gunther and Hagen was it / by whom the deed befell. Now guard you well, ye strangers, / for doomed in sooth are ye, Unto Lady Kriemhild / must your lives now forfeit be." 1926 "An so thou wilt desist not," / Dankwart declared, "Regret I my entreaty, / my toil were better spared." The nimble thane and valiant / up from the table sprung, And drew a keen-edged weapon, / great in sooth that was and long. 1927 Then smote he with it Bloedel / such a sudden blow That his head full sudden / before his feet lay low. "Be that thy wedding-dower," / the doughty Dankwart spake, "Along with bride of Nudung / whom thou would'st to thy bosom take. 1928 "To-morrow may she marry, / but some other one: Will he have bridal portion, / e'en so to him be done." A Hun that liked not treason / had given him to know How that the queen upon him / thought to work so grievous woe. 1929 When the men of Bloedel / saw thus their master slain, To fall upon the strangers / would they longer not refrain. With swords swung high above them / upon the squires they flew In a grimmest humor. / Soon many must that rashness rue. 1930 Full loudly cried then Dankwart / to all his company: "Behold ye, noble squires, / the fate that ours must be. Now quit yourselves with valor, / for evil is our pass, Though fair to us the summons / hither from Lady Kriemhild was!" 1931 They, too, reached down before them, / who no weapons bore, And each a massive footstool / snatched from off the floor, For the Burgundian squires / no whit were they dismayed; And by the selfsame weapons / was many a dint in helmet made. 1932 How fierce they fought to shield them / the strangers one and all! E'en their armed foemen / drove they from the hall. Or smote dead within it / hundreds five or more; All the valiant fighters / saw ye drenched with ruddy gore. 1933 Ere long the wondrous tidings / some messenger did tell Unto Etzel's chieftain / --fierce did their anger swell-- How that slain was Bloedel / and knights full many a one; The which had Hagen's brother / with his lusty squires done. 1934 The Huns, by anger driven, / ere Etzel was aware, Two thousand men or over, / did quick themselves prepare. They fell upon those squires / --e'en so it had to be-- And never any living / they left of all that company. 1935 A mickle host they faithless / unto those quarters brought, But lustily the strangers / 'gainst their assailants fought. What booted swiftest valor? / Soon must all lie dead. A dire woe thereafter / on many a man was visited. 1936 Now may ye hear a wondrous / tale of honor told: Of squires full nine thousand / soon in death lay cold, And eke good knights a dozen / there of Dankwart's band. Forlorn ye saw him only / the last amid his foemen stand. 1937 The din at last was ended / and lulled the battle-sound, When the valiant Dankwart / did cast a glance around. "Alack for my companions," / cried he, "now from me reft. Alack that I now only / forlorn amid my foes am left." 1938 The swords upon his body / fell full thick and fast, Which rashness many a warrior's / widow mourned at last. His shield he higher lifted / and drew the strap more low: Down coats of ring-made armor / made he the ebbing blood to flow. 1939 "O woe is me!" spake Dankwart, / the son of Aldrian. "Now back, ye Hunnish fighters, / let me the open gain, That the air give cooling / to me storm-weary wight." In splendid valor moving / strode forward then anew the knight. 1940 As thus he battle-weary / through the hall's portal sprang, What swords of new-come fighters / upon his helmet rang! They who not yet had witnessed / what wonders wrought his hand, Rashly rushed they forward / to thwart him of Burgundian land. 1941 "Now would to God," quoth Dankwart, / "I found a messenger Who to my brother Hagen / might the tidings bear, That 'fore host of foemen / in such sad case am I! From hence he'd surely help me, / or by my side he slain would lie." 1942 Then Hunnish knights gave answer: / "Thyself the messenger Shalt be, when to thy brother / thee a corse we bear. So shall that thane of Gunther / first true sorrow know. Upon the royal Etzel / here hast thou wrought so grievous woe." 1943 Quoth he: "Now leave such boasting / and yield me passage free, Else shall mail-rings a many / with blood bespattered be. Myself will tell the tidings / soon at Etzel's court, And eke unto my masters / of this my travail make report." 1944 Etzel's men around him / belabored he so sore That they at sword-point / durst not withstand him more. Spears shot into his shield he / so many there did stop That he the weight unwieldy / must from out his hand let drop. 1945 Then thought they to subdue him / thus of his shield bereft, But lo! the mighty gashes / wherewith he helmets cleft! Must there keen knights full many / before him stagger down, High praise the valiant Dankwart / thereby for his valor won. 1946 On right side and on left side / they still beset his way, Yet many a one too rashly / did mingle in the fray. Thus strode he 'mid the foemen / as doth in wood the boar By yelping hounds beleaguered; / more stoutly fought he ne'er before. 1947 As there he went, his pathway / with reeking blood was wet. Yea, never any hero / more bravely battled yet When by foes surrounded, / than he did might display. To court did Hagen's brother / with splendid valor make his way. 1948 When stewards and cup-bearers / heard how sword-blades rung, Many a brimming goblet / from their hands they flung And eke the viands ready / that they to table bore; Thus many doughty foemen / withstood him where he sought the door. 1949 "How now, ye stewards?" / cried the weary knight; "'Twere better that ye tended / rather your guests aright, Bearing to lords at table / choice food that fitteth well, And suffered me these tidings / unto my masters dear to tell." 1950 Whoe'er before him rashly / athwart the stairway sprung, On him with blow so heavy / his mighty sword he swung, That soon faint heart gave warning / before his path to yield. Mickle wonder wrought he / where sword his doughty arm did wield. THIRTY-THIRD ADVENTURE How the Burgundians fought with the Huns 1951 Soon as the valiant Dankwart / stood beneath the door, Bade he Etzel's followers / all make way before. With blood from armor streaming / did there the hero stand; A sharp and mighty weapon / bore he naked in his hand. 1952 Into the hall then Dankwart / cried with voice full strong: "At table, brother Hagen, / thou sittest all too long. To thee and God in heaven / must I sore complain: Knights and squires also / lie within their lodging slain." 1953 Straight he cried in answer: / "Who hath done such deed?" "That hath done Sir Bloedel / and knights that he did lead. Eke made he meet atonement, / that may'st thou understand: His head from off his body / have I struck with mine own hand." 1954 "'Tis little cause for sorrow," / Hagen spake again, "When they tell the story / of a valiant thane, That he to death was smitten / by knight of high degree. The less a cause for weeping / to winsome women shall it be. 1955 "Now tell me, brother Dankwart, / how thou so red may'st be; From thy wounds thou sufferest, / I ween, full grievously. Lives he within this country / who serves thee in such way, Him must the devil shelter, / or for the deed his life shall pay." 1956 "Behold me here all scatheless. / My gear is wet with blood, From wounds of others, natheless, / now hath flowed that flood, Of whom this day so many / beneath my broadsword fell: Must I make solemn witness, / ne'er knew I full the tale to tell." 1957 He answered: "Brother Dankwart, / now take thy stand before, And Huns let never any / make passage by the door. I'll speak unto these warriors, / as needs must spoken be: Dead lie all our followers, / slain by foulest treachery." 1958 "Must I here be chamberlain," / replied the warrior keen, "Well know I such high monarchs / aright to serve, I ween. So will I guard the stairway / as sorts with honor well." Ne'er to the thanes of Kriemhild / so sorry case before befell. 1959 "To me 'tis mickle wonder," / Hagen spake again, "What thing unto his neighbor / whispers each Hunnish thane. I ween they'd forego the service / of him who keeps the door, And who such high court tidings / to his friends of Burgundy bore. 1960 "Long since of Lady Kriemhild / the story I did hear, How unavenged her sorrow / she might no longer bear. A memory-cup now quaff we / and pay for royal cheer! The youthful lord of Hunland / shall make the first instalment here." 1961 Thereat the child Ortlieb / doughty Hagen slew, That from the sword downward / the blood to hand-grip flew, And into lap of Kriemhild / the severed head down rolled. Then might ye see 'mid warriors / a slaughter great and grim unfold. 1962 By both hands swiftly wielded, / his blade then cut the air And smote upon the tutor / who had the child in care, That down before the table / his head that instant lay: It was a sorry payment / wherewith he did the tutor pay. 1963 His eye 'fore Etzel's table / a minstrel espied: To whom in hasty manner / did wrathful Hagen stride, Where moved it on the fiddle / his right hand off smote he; "Have that for thy message / unto the land of Burgundy." 1964 "Alack my hand!" did Werbel / that same minstrel moan; "What, Sir Hagen of Tronje, / have I to thee done? I bore a faithful message / unto thy master's land. How may I more make music / thus by thee bereft of hand?" 1965 Little in sooth recked Hagen, / fiddled he nevermore. Then in the hall all wrathful / wrought he havoc sore Upon the thanes of Etzel / whereof he many slew; Ere they might find exit, / to death then smote he not a few. 1966 Volker the full valiant / up sprang from board also: In his hand full clearly / rang out his fiddle-bow, For mightily did fiddle / Gunther's minstrel thane. What host of foes he made him / because of Hunnish warriors slain! 1967 Eke sprang from the table / the lofty monarchs three, Who glad had stilled the combat / ere greater scathe might be. Yet all their art availed not / their anger to assuage, When Volker and Hagen / so mightily began to rage. 1968 When the lord of Rhineland / saw how his toil was vain, Gaping wounds full many / himself did smite amain Through rings of shining mail-coats / there upon the foe. He was a valiant hero, / as he full gallantly did show. 1969 Strode eke into the combat / Gernot a doughty thane; By whom of Hunnish warriors / full many a one was slain With a sword sharp-edged / he had of Ruediger; Oft sent to dire ruin / by him the knights of Etzel were. 1970 The youthful son of Ute / eke to the combat sprang, And merrily his broadsword / upon the helmets rang Of many a Hunnish warrior / there in Etzel's land; Feasts of mickle wonder / wrought Giselher with dauntless hand. 1971 How bold soe'er was any, / of kings and warrior band, Saw ye yet the foremost / Giselher to stand There against the foemen, / a knight of valor good; Wounded deep full many / made he to fall in oozing blood. 1972 Eke full well defend them / did Etzel's warriors too. There might ye see the strangers / their gory way to hew With swords all brightly gleaming / adown that royal hall; Heard ye there on all sides / loudly ring the battle-call. 1973 Join friends within beleaguered / would they without full fain, Yet might they at the portal / but little vantage gain. Eke they within had gladly / gained the outer air; Nor up nor down did Dankwart / suffer one to pass the stair. 1974 There before the portal / surged a mighty throng, And with a mickle clangor / on helm the broadsword rung. Thus on the valiant Dankwart / his foes did sorely press, And soon his trusty brother / was anxious grown o'er his distress. 1975 Full loudly cried then Hagen / unto Volker: "Trusty fere, behold'st thou / my brother standing there, Where on him Hunnish warriors / their mighty blows do rain? Good friend, save thou my brother / ere we do lose the valiant thane." 1976 "That will I do full surely," / thereat the minstrel spake. Adown the hall he fiddling / gan his way to make; In his hand full often / a trusty sword rang out, While grateful knights of Rhineland / acclaimed him with a mickle shout. 1977 Soon did the valiant Volker / Dankwart thus address: "Hard this day upon thee / hath weighed the battle's stress. That I should come to help thee / thy brother gave command; Keep thou without the portal, / I inward guarding here will stand." 1978 Dankwart, thane right valiant, / stood without the door And guarded so the stairway / that none might pass before. There heard ye broadswords ringing, / swung by warrior's hand, While inward in like manner / wrought Volker of Burgundian land. 1979 There the valiant Fiddler / above the press did call: "Securely now, friend Hagen, / closed is the hall. Yea, so firmly bolted / is King Etzel's door By hands of two good warriors, / as thousand bars were set before," 1980 When Hagen thus of Tronje / the door did guarded find, The warrior far renowned / swung his shield behind; He first for harm received / revenge began to take, Whereat all hope of living / did soon his enemies forsake. 1981 When of Bern Sir Dietrich / rightly did perceive How the doughty Hagen / did many a helmet cleave, The king of Amelungen / upon a bench leaped up; Quoth he: "Here poureth Hagen / for us exceeding bitter cup." 1982 Great fear fell eke on Etzel, / as well might be the case, (What trusty followers snatched they / to death before his face!) For well nigh did his enemies / on him destruction bring. There sat he all confounded. / What booted him to be a king? 1983 Cried then aloud to Dietrich / Kriemhild, the high lady: "Now help me, knight so noble, / that hence with life I flee, By princely worth, I pray thee, / thou lord of Amelung's land; If here do reach me Hagen, / straight find I death beneath his hand." 1984 "How may my help avail thee, / noble queen and high?" Answered her Sir Dietrich, / "Fear for myself have I. Too sorely is enraged / each knight in Gunther's band, To no one at this season / may I lend assisting hand." 1985 "But nay, but nay, Sir Dietrich, / full noble knight and keen, What maketh thy bright chivalry, / let it this day be seen, And bring me hence to safety, / else am I death's sure prey." Good cause was that on Kriemhild's / bosom fear so heavy lay. 1986 "So will I here endeavor / to help thee as I may; Yet shalt thou well believe me, / hath passed full many a day Since saw I goodly warriors / of so bitter mood. 'Neath swords behold I flowing / through helmets plenteously the blood." 1987 Lustily then cried he, / the warrior nobly born, That his voice rang loudly / like blast from bison's horn, That all around the palace / gave back the lusty sound; Unto the might of Dietrich / never limit yet was found. 1988 When did hear King Gunther / how called the doughty man Above the storm of combat, / to hearken he began. Quoth he: "The voice of Dietrich / hath fallen upon mine ear; I ween some of his followers / before our thanes have fallen here. 1989 "High on the board I see him; / he beckons with the hand. Now my good friends and kinsmen / of Burgundian land, Stay ye your hands from conflict, / let us hear and see If done upon the chieftain / aught by my men of scathe there be." 1990 When thus King Gunther / did beg and eke command, With swords in stress of battle / stayed they all the hand. 'Twas token of his power / that straight the strife did pause. Then him of Bern he questioned / what of his outcry were the cause. 1991 He spake: "Full noble Dietrich, / what here on thee is wrought By any of my warriors? / For truly is my thought To make a full atonement / and amends to thee. If here hath wronged thee any, / 'twere cause of mickle grief to me." 1992 Then answered him Sir Dietrich: / "Myself do nothing grieve. Grant me with thy protection / but this hall to leave And quit the dire conflict, / with them that me obey. Then surely will I ever / seek thy favor to repay." 1993 "How plead'st thou thus so early?" / Wolfhart was heard; "The Fiddler so securely / the door not yet hath barred, But it so wide we'll open / to pass it through, I trow." "Now hold thy peace," quoth Dietrich, / "wrought but little here hast thou." 1994 Then spake the royal Gunther: / "That grant I thee to do, Forth from the hall lead many / or lead with thee few, An if my foes it be not; / here stay they every one. Upon me here in Hunland / hath grievous wrong by them been done." 1995 When heard he Gunther's answer / he took beneath his arm The noble Queen Kriemhild, / who dreaded mickle harm. On the other side too led he / Etzel with him away; Eke went thence with Dietrich / six hundred knights in fair array. 1996 Then outspake the margrave, / the noble Ruediger: "If leave to any others / be granted forth to fare, Of those who glad would serve you, / give us the same to see. Yea, peace that's never broken / 'twixt friends 'tis meet should ever be." 1997 Thereto gave answer Giselher / of the land of Burgundy: "Peace and unbroken friendship / wish we e'er with thee, With thee and all thy kinsmen, / as true thou ever art. We grant thee all untroubled / with thy friends from hence to part." 1998 When thus Sir Ruediger / from the hall did pass, A train of knights five hundred / or more with him there was, Of them of Bechelaren, / kinsmen and warriors true, Whose parting gave King Gunther / anon full mickle cause to rue. 1999 When did a Hunnish warrior / Etzel's passing see 'Neath the arm of Dietrich, / to profit him thought he. Smote him yet the Fiddler / such a mighty blow, That 'fore the feet of Etzel / sheer on the floor his head fell low. 2000 When the country's monarch / had gained the outer air, Turned he looking backward / and gazed on Volker. "Alack such guests to harbor! / Ah me discomfited! That all the knights that serve me / shall before their might lie dead. 2001 "Alack their coming hither!" / spake the king once more. "Within, a warrior fighteth / like to wild forest boar; Hight the same is Volker, / and a minstrel is also; To pass the demon scatheless / I to fortune's favor owe. 2002 "Evil sound his melodies, / his strokes of bow are red, Yea, beneath his music / full many a knight lies dead. I know not what against us / hath stirred that player's ire, For guests ne'er had I any / whereby to suffer woe so dire." 2003 None other would they suffer / to pass the door than those. Then 'neath the hall's high roof-tree / a mighty din arose. For evil wrought upon them / those guests sore vengeance take. Volker the doughty Fiddler, / what shining helmets there he brake! 2004 Gunther, lofty monarch, / thither turned his ear. "Hear'st thou the music, Hagen, / that yonder Volker Doth fiddle for the Hun-men, / when near the door they go? The stroke is red of color, / where he doth draw the fiddle-bow." 2005 "Mickle doth it rue me," / Hagen spake again, "That in the hall far severed / I am from that bold thane. I was his boon companion / and he sworn friend to me: Come we hence ever scatheless, / trusty feres we yet shall be. 2006 "Behold now, lofty sire, / the faith of Volker bold! With will he seeks to win him / thy silver and thy gold. With fiddle-bow he cleaveth / e'en the steel so hard, Bright-gleaming crests of helmets / are scattered by his mighty sword. 2007 "Never saw I fiddler / so dauntless heart display, As the doughty Volker / here hath done this day. Through shield and shining helmet / his melodies ring clear; Give him to ride good charger / and eke full stately raiment wear." 2008 Of all the Hunnish kindred / that in the hall had been, None now of all their number / therein to fight was seen. Hushed was the din of battle / and strife no more was made: From out their hands aweary / their swords the dauntless warriors laid. THIRTY-FOURTH ADVENTURE How they cast out the Dead 2009 From toil of battle weary / rested the warriors all. Volker and Hagen / passed out before the hall, And on their shields did lean them, / those knights whom naught could daunt. Then with full merry converse / gan the twain their foes to taunt. 2010 Spake meanwhile of Burgundy / Giselher the thane: "Not yet, good friends, may ye / think to rest again. Forth from the hall the corses / shall ye rather bear. Again we'll be assailed, / that would I now in sooth declare. 2011 "Beneath our feet no longer / here the dead must lie. But ere in storm of battle / at hand of Huns to die, We'll deal such wounds around us / as 'tis my joy to see. Thereon," spake Giselher, / "my heart is fixed right steadfastly." 2012 "I joy in such a master," / Hagen spake again: "Such counsel well befitteth / alone so valiant thane As my youthful master / hath shown himself this day. Therefor, O men of Burgundy, / every one rejoice ye may." 2013 Then followed they his counsel / and from the hall they bore Seven thousand bodies / and cast them from the door. Adown the mounting stairway / all together fell, Whereat a sound of wailing / did from mourning kinsmen swell. 2014 Many a man among them / so slight wound did bear That he were yet recovered / had he but gentle care, Who yet falling headlong / now surely must be dead. Thereat did grieve their kinsmen / as verily was sorest need. 2015 Then outspake the Fiddler, / Volker a hero bold: "Now do I find how truly / hath to me been told That cowards are the Hun-men / who do like women weep. Rather should be their effort / their wounded kin alive to keep." 2016 These words deemed a margrave / spoken in kindly mood. He saw one of his kinsmen / weltering in his blood. In his arms he clasped him / and thought him thence to bear, But as he bent above him / pierced him the valiant minstrel's spear. 2017 When that beheld the others / all in haste they fled, Crying each one curses / on that same minstrel's head. From the ground then snatched he / a spear with point full keen, That 'gainst him up the stairway / by a Hun had hurled been. 2018 Across the court he flung it / with his arm of might Far above the people. / Then did each Hunnish knight Seek him safer quarters / more distant from the hall. To see his mighty prowess / did fill with fear his foemen all. 2019 As knights full many thousand / far 'fore the palace stood, Volker and Hagen / gan speak in wanton mood "Unto King Etzel, / nor did they aught withhold; Wherefrom anon did sorrow / o'ertake those doughty warriors bold. 2020 "'Twould well beseem," quoth Hagen, / "the people's lofty lord Foremost in storm of battle / to swing the cutting sword, As do my royal masters / each fair example show. Where hew they through the helmets / their swords do make the blood to flow." 2021 To hear such words brave Etzel / snatched in haste his shield. "Now well beware of rashness," / cried Lady Kriemhild, "And offer to thy warriors / gold heaped on shield full high: If yonder Hagen reach thee, / straightway shalt thou surely die." 2022 So high was the king's mettle / that he would not give o'er, Which case is now full seldom / seen in high princes more; They must by shield-strap tugging / him perforce restrain. Grim of mood then Hagen / began him to revile again. 2023 "It was a distant kinship," / spake Hagen, dauntless knight, "That Etzel unto Siegfried / ever did unite, And husband he to Kriemhild / was ere thee she knew. Wherefore, O king faint-hearted, / seek'st thou such thing 'gainst me to do?" 2024 Thereto eke must listen / the noble monarch's spouse, And grievously to hear it / did Kriemhild's wrath arouse. That he 'fore men of Etzel / durst herself upbraid; To urge them 'gainst the strangers / she once more her arts essayed. 2025 Cried she: "Of Tronje Hagen / whoso for me will slay, And his head from body severed / here before me lay, For him the shield of Etzel / I'll fill with ruddy gold, Eke lands and lordly castles / I'll give him for his own to hold." 2026 "I wot not why they tarry," / --thus the minstrel cried; "Ne'er saw I heroes any / so their courage hide, When to them was offered, / like this, reward so high. 'Tis cause henceforth that Etzel / for aye to them goodwill deny." 2027 "Who in such craven manner / do eat their master's bread, And like caitiffs fail him / in time of greatest need, Here see I standing many / of courage all forlorn, Yet would be men of valor; / all time be they upheld to scorn." THIRTY-FIFTH ADVENTURE How Iring was Slain 2028 Cried then he of Denmark, / Iring the margrave: "Fixed on things of honor / my purpose long I have, And oft in storm of battle, / where heroes wrought, was I. Bring hither now my armor, / with Hagen I'll the combat try." 2029 "I counsel thee against it," / Hagen then replied, "Or bring a goodly company / of Hun-men by thy side. If peradventure any / find entrance to the hall, I'll cause that nowise scatheless / down the steps again they fall." 2030 "Such words may not dissuade me," / Iring spake once more; "A thing of equal peril / oft have I tried before. Yea, will I with my broadsword / confront thee all alone. Nor aught may here avail thee / thus to speak in haughty tone." 2031 Soon the valiant Iring / armed and ready stood, And Irnfried of Thuringia / a youth of mettle good, And eke the doughty Hawart, / with thousand warriors tried. Whate'er his purpose, Iring / should find them faithful by his side. 2032 Advancing then with Iring / did the Fiddler see All clad in shining armor / a mighty company, And each a well-made helmet / securely fastened wore. Thereat the gallant Volker / began to rail in anger sore. 2033 "Seest thou, friend Hagen, / yonder Iring go, Who all alone to front thee / with his sword did vow? Doth lying sort with honor? / Scorned the thing must be. A thousand knights or over / here bear him armed company." 2034 "Now make me not a liar," / cried Hawart's man aloud, "For firm is still my purpose / to do what now I vowed, Nor will I turn me from it / through any cause of fear. Alone I'll stand 'fore Hagen, / awful howsoe'er he were." 2035 On ground did throw him Iring / before his warriors' feet, That they leave might grant him / alone the knight to meet. Loath they were to do it; / well known to them might be The haughty Hagen's prowess / of the land of Burgundy. 2036 Yet so long besought he / that granted was their leave; When they that followed with him / did his firm mind perceive, And how 'twas bent on honor, / they not restrained him. Then closed the two chieftains / together in a combat grim. 2037 Iring of Denmark / raised his spear on high, And with the shield he covered / himself full skilfully; He upward rushed on Hagen / unto the hall right close, When round the clashing fighters / soon a mighty din arose. 2038 Each hurled upon the other / the spear with arm of might, That the firm shields were pierced / e'en to their mail-coats bright, And outward still projecting / the long spear-shafts were seen. In haste then snatched their broadswords / both the fighters grim and keen. 2039 In might the doughty Hagen / and prowess did abound, As Iring smote upon him / the hall gave back the sound. The palace all and towers / re-echoed from their blows, Yet might that bold assailant / with victory ne'er the combat close. 2040 On Hagen might not Iring / wreak aught of injury. Unto the doughty Fiddler / in haste then turned he. Him by his mighty sword-strokes / thought he to subdue, But well the thane full gallant / to keep him safe in combat knew. 2041 Then smote the doughty Fiddler / so lustily his shield That from it flew its ornaments / where he the sword did wield. Iring must leave unconquered / there the dauntless man; Next upon King Gunther / of Burgundy in wrath he ran. 2042 There did each in combat / show him man of might; Howe'er did Gunther and Iring / yet each the other smite, From wounds might never either / make the blood to flow, So sheltered each his armor, / well wrought that was and strong enow. 2043 Gunther left he standing, / upon Gernot to dash, And when he smote ring-armor / the fire forth did flash. But soon had he of Burgundy, / Gernot the doughty thane, Well nigh his keen assailant / Iring of Denmark slain. 2044 Yet from the prince he freed him, / for nimble was he too. Four of the men of Burgundy / the knight full sudden slew Of those that followed with them / from Worms across the Rhine. Thereupon might nothing / the wrath of Giselher confine. 2045 "God wot well, Sir Iring," / young Giselher then cried, "Now must thou make requital / for them that here have died 'Neath thy hand so sudden." / He rushed upon him so And smote the knight of Denmark / that he might not withstand the blow. 2046 Into the blood down fell he / staggering 'neath its might, That all who there beheld it / might deem the noble knight Sword again would never / wield amid the fray. Yet 'neath the stroke of Giselher / Iring all unwounded lay. 2047 Bedazed by helmet's sounding / where ringing sword swung down, Full suddenly his senses / so from the knight were flown: That of his life no longer / harbored he a thought. That the doughty Giselher / by his mighty arm had wrought. 2048 When somewhat was subsided / the din within his head From mighty blow so sudden / on him was visited, Thought he: "I still am living / and bear no mortal wound. How great the might of Giselher, / till now unwitting, have I found." 2049 He hearkened how on all sides / his foes around did stand; Knew they what he did purpose, / they had not stayed their hand. He heard the voice of Giselher / eke in that company, As cunning he bethought him / how yet he from his foes might flee. 2050 Up from the blood he started / with fierce and sudden bound; By grace alone of swiftness / he his freedom found. With speed he passed the portal / where Hagen yet did stand, And swift his sword he flourished / and smote him with his doughty hand. 2051 To see such sight quoth Hagen: / "To death thou fall'st a prey; If not the Devil shield thee, / now is thy latest day." Yet Iring wounded Hagen / e'en through his helmet's crown. That did the knight with Waske, / a sword that was of far renown. 2052 When thus Sir Hagen / the smart of wound did feel, Wrathfully he brandished / on high his blade of steel. Full soon must yield before him / Hawart's daring man, Adown the steps pursuing / Hagen swiftly after ran. 2053 O'er his head bold Iring / his shield to guard him swung, And e'en had that same stairway / been full three times as long, Yet had he found no respite / from warding Hagen's blows. How plenteously the ruddy / sparks above his helm arose! 2054 Unscathed at last came Iring / where waited him his own. Soon as was the story / unto Kriemhild known, How that in fight on Hagen / he had wrought injury, Therefor the Lady Kriemhild / him gan to thank full graciously. 2055 "Now God requite thee, Iring, / thou valiant knight and good, For thou my heart hast comforted / and merry made my mood. Red with blood his armor, / see I yonder Hagen stand." For joy herself did Kriemhild / take his shield from out his hand. 2056 "Small cause hast thou to thank him," / thus wrathful Hagen spake; "For gallant knight 'twere fitting / trial once more to make. If then returned he scatheless, / a valiant man he were. The wound doth boot thee little / that now from his hand I bear. 2057 "That here from wound upon me / my mail-coat see'st thou red, Shall bring woful reprisal / on many a warrior's head. Now is my wrath aroused / in full 'gainst Hawart's thane. As yet in sooth hath Iring / wrought on me but little bane." 2058 Iring then of Denmark / stood where fanned the wind. He cooled him in his armor / and did his helm unbind. Then praised him all the people / and spoke him man of might, Whereat the margrave's bosom / swelled full high with proud delight. 2059 "Now hearken friends unto me," / Iring once more spake; "Make me straightway ready, / new trial now to make If I this knight so haughty / may yet perchance subdue." New shield they brought, for Hagen / did his erstwhile asunder hew. 2060 Soon stood again the warrior / in armor all bedight. In hand a spear full massy / took the wrathful knight, Wherewith on yonder Hagen / he thought to vent his hate. With grim and fearful visage / on him the vengeful thane did wait. 2061 Yet not abide his coming / might Hagen longer now. Adown he rushed upon him / with many a thrust and blow, Down where the stairway ended / for fierce did burn his ire. Soon the might of Iring / must 'neath his furious onset tire, 2062 Their shields they smote asunder / that the sparks began To fly in ruddy showers. / Hawart's gallant man Was by sword of Hagen / wounded all so sore Through shield and shining cuirass, / that whole he found him never more. 2063 When how great the wound was / Iring fully knew, Better to guard his helm-band / his shield he higher drew. The scathe he first received / he deemed sufficient quite, Yet injury far greater / soon had he from King Gunther's knight. 2064 From where it lay before him / Hagen a spear did lift And hurled it upon Iring / with aim so sure and swift, It pierced his head, and firmly / fixed the shaft did stand; Full grim the end that met him / 'neath the doughty Hagen's hand. 2065 Backward Iring yielded / unto his Danish men. Ere for the knight his helmet / they undid again, From his head they drew the spear-point; / to death he was anigh. Wept thereat his kinsmen, / and sore need had verily. 2066 Came thereto Queen Kriemhild / and o'er the warrior bent, And for the doughty Iring / gan she there lament. She wept to see him wounded, / and sorely grieved the queen. Then spake unto his kinsmen / the warrior full brave and keen. 2067 "I pray thee leave thy moaning, / royal high lady. What avails thy weeping? / Yea, soon must ended be My life from wounds outflowing / that here I did receive. To serve thyself and Etzel / will death not longer grant me leave." 2068 Eke spake he to them of Thuringia / and to them of Danish land: "Of you shall never any / receive the gift in hand From your royal mistress / of shining gold full red. Whoe'er withstandeth Hagen / death calleth down upon his head." 2069 From cheek the color faded, / death's sure token wore Iring the gallant warrior: / thereat they grieved full sore. Nor more in life might tarry / Hawart's valiant knight: Enraged the men of Denmark / again did arm them for the fight. 2070 Irnfried and Hawart / before the hall then sprang Leading thousand warriors. / Full furious a clang Of weapons then on all sides / loud and great ye hear. Against the men of Burgundy / how hurled they many a mighty spear! 2071 Straight the valiant Irnfried / the minstrel rushed upon, But naught but grievous injury / 'neath his hand he won: For the noble Fiddler / did the landgrave smite E'en through the well-wrought helmet; / yea, grim and savage was the knight. 2072 Sir Irnfried then in answer / the valiant minstrel smote, That must fly asunder / the rings of his mailed coat Which showered o'er his cuirass / like sparks of fire red. Soon must yet the landgrave / fall before the Fiddler dead. 2073 Eke were come together / Hawart and Hagen bold, And saw he deeds of wonder / who did the sight behold. Swift flew the sword and fiercely / swung by each hero's hand. But soon lay Hawart prostrate / before him of Burgundian land. 2074 When Danish men and Thuringians / beheld their masters fall, Fearful was the turmoil / that rose before the hall As to the door they struggled, / on dire vengeance bent. Full many a shield and helmet / was there 'neath sword asunder rent. 2075 "Now backward yield," cried Volker / "and let them pass within; Thus only are they thwarted / of what they think to win. When but they pass the portals / are they full quickly slain. With death shall they the bounty / of their royal mistress gain." 2076 When thus with pride o'erweening / they did entrance find, The head of many a warrior / was so to earth inclined, That he must life surrender / 'neath blows that thickly fell. Well bore him valiant Gernot / and eke Sir Giselher as well. 2077 Four knights beyond a thousand / were come into the house; The light from sword-blades glinted, / swift swung with mighty souse. Not one of all their number / soon might ye living see; Tell might ye mickle wonders / of the men of Burgundy. 2078 Thereafter came a stillness, / and ceased the tumult loud. The blood in every quarter / through the leak-holes flowed, And out along the corbels / from men in death laid low. That had the men of Rhineland / wrought with many a doughty blow. 2079 Then sat again to rest them / they of Burgundian land, Shield and mighty broadsword / they laid from out the hand. But yet the valiant Fiddler / stood waiting 'fore the door, If peradventure any / would seek to offer combat more. 2080 Sorely did King Etzel / and eke his spouse lament, Maidens and fair ladies / did sorrow sore torment. Death long since upon them, / I ween, such ending swore. To fall before the strangers / was doomed full many a warrior more. THIRTY-SIXTH ADVENTURE How the Queen bade set fire to the Hall 2081 "Now lay ye off the helmets," / the words from Hagen fell: "I with a boon companion / will be your sentinel. And seek the men of Etzel / to work us further harm, For my royal masters / full quickly will I cry alarm." 2082 Then freed his head of armor / many a warrior good. They sate them on the corses, / that round them in the blood Of wounds themselves had dealt them, / prostrate weltering lay. Now to his guests so lofty / scant courtesy did Etzel pay. 2083 Ere yet was come the even, / King Etzel did persuade, And eke the Lady Kriemhild, / that once more essayed The Hunnish knights to storm them. / Before them might ye see Good twenty thousand warriors, / who soon for fight must ready be. 2084 Then with a furious onset / the strangers they attacked. Dankwart, Hagen's brother, / who naught of courage lacked, Sprang out 'mid the besiegers / to ward them from the door. 'Twas deemed a deadly peril, / yet scatheless stood he there before. 2085 Fierce the struggle lasted / till darkness brought an end. Themselves like goodly heroes / the strangers did defend Against the men of Etzel / all the long summer day. What host of valiant warriors / before them fell to death a prey! 2086 At turn of sun in summer / that havoc sore was wrought, When the Lady Kriemhild / revenge so dire sought Upon her nearest kinsmen / and many a knight beside, Wherefore with royal Etzel / never more might joy abide. 2087 As day at last was ending / sad they were of heart. They deemed from life 'twere better / in sudden death to part Than be thus long tormented / by great o'erhanging dread. That respite now be granted, / the knights so proud and gallant prayed. 2088 They prayed to lead the monarch / hither to them there. As heroes blood-bespotted, / and stained from battle-gear, Forth from the hall emerged / the lofty monarchs three. They wist not to whom complained / might their full grievous sorrows be. 2089 Etzel and Kriemhild / they soon before them found, And great was now their company / from all their lands around. Spake Etzel to the strangers: / "What will ye now of me? Ye hope for end of conflict, / but hardly may such favor be. 2090 "This so mighty ruin / that ye on me have wrought, If death thwart not my purpose, / shall profit you in naught. For child that here ye slew me / and kinsmen dear to me, Shall peace and reconcilement / from you withheld forever be." 2091 Thereto gave answer Gunther: / "To that drove sorest need. Lay all my train of squires / before thy warriors dead Where they for night assembled. / How bore I so great blame? Of friendly mind I deemed thee, / as trusting in thy faith I came." 2092 Then spake eke of Burgundy / the youthful Giselher: "Ye knights that still are living / of Etzel, now declare Whereof ye may reproach me! / How hath you harmed my hand? For in right friendly manner / came I riding to this land." 2093 Cried they: "Well is thy friendship / in burgh and country known By sorrow of thy making. / Gladly had we foregone The pleasure of thy coming / from Worms across the Rhine. Our country hast thou orphaned, / thou and brother eke of thine." 2094 In angry mood King Gunther / unto them replied: "An ye this mighty hatred / appeased would lay aside, Borne 'gainst us knights here homeless, / to both a gain it were For Etzel's wrath against us / we in sooth no guilt do bear." 2095 The host then to the strangers: / "Your sorrow here and mine Are things all unequal. / For now must I repine With honor all bespotted / and 'neath distress of woe. Of you shall never any / hence from my country living go." 2096 Then did the doughty Gernot / unto King Etzel say: "God then in mercy move thee / to act in friendly way. Slay us knights here homeless, / yet grant us down to go To meet thee in the open: / thine honor biddeth thus to do. 2097 "Whate'er shall be our portion, / let that straightway appear. Men hast thou yet so many / that, should they banish fear, Not one of us storm-weary / might keep his life secure. How long shall we here friendless / this woeful travail yet endure?" 2098 By the warriors of Etzel / their wish nigh granted was, And leave well nigh was given / that from the hall they pass. When Kriemhild knew their purpose, / high her anger swelled, And straightway such a respite / was from the stranger knights withheld. 2099 "But nay, ye Hunnish warriors! / what ye have mind to do, Therefrom now desist ye, / --such is my counsel true; Nor let foes so vengeful / pass without the hall, Else must in death before them / full many of your kinsmen fall. 2100 "If of them lived none other / but Ute's sons alone, My three noble brothers, / and they the air had won Where breeze might cool their armor, / to death ye were a prey. In all this world were never / born more valiant thanes than they." 2101 Then spake the youthful Giselher: / "Full beauteous sister mine, When to this land thou bad'st me / from far beside the Rhine, I little deemed such trouble / did here upon me wait. Whereby have I deserved / from the Huns such mortal hate? 2102 "To thee I ever faithful / was, nor wronged thee e'er. In such faith confiding / did I hither fare, That thou to me wert gracious, / O noble sister mine. Show mercy now unto us, / we must to thee our lives resign." 2103 "No mercy may I show you, / --unmerciful I'll be. By Hagen, knight of Tronje, / was wrought such woe to me, That ne'er is reconcilement / the while that I have life. That must ye all atone for," / --quoth the royal Etzel's wife. 2104 "Will ye but Hagen only / to me as hostage give, Then will I not deny you / to let you longer live. Born are ye of one mother / and brothers unto me, So wish I that compounded / here with these warriors peace may be." 2105 "God in heaven forfend it," / Gernot straightway said; "E'en though we were a thousand, / lay we all rather dead, We who are thy kinsmen, / ere that warrior one Here we gave for hostage. / Never may such thing be done." 2106 "Die must we all," quoth Giselher, / "for such is mortal's end. Till then despite of any, / our knighthood we'll defend. Would any test our mettle, / here may he trial make. For ne'er, when help he needed, / did I a faithful friend forsake." 2107 Then spake the valiant Dankwart, / a knight that knew no fear; "In sooth stands not unaided / my brother Hagen here. Who here have peace denied us / may yet have cause to rue. I would that this ye doubt not, / for verily I tell you true." 2108 The queen to those around her: / "Ye gallant warriors, go Now nigher to the stairway / and straight avenge my woe. I'll ever make requital / therefor, as well I may. For his haughty humor / will I Hagen full repay. 2109 "To pass without the portal / let not one at all, For at its four corners / I'll bid ignite the hall. So will I fullest vengeance / take for all my woe." Straightway the thanes of Etzel / ready stood her hest to do. 2110 Who still without were standing / were driven soon within By sword and spear upon them, / that made a mighty din. Yet naught might those good warriors / from their masters take, By their faith would never / each the other's side forsake. 2111 To burn the hall commanded / Etzel's wife in ire, And tortured they those warriors / there with flaming fire; Full soon with wind upon it / the house in flames was seen. To any folk did never / sadder plight befall, I ween. 2112 Their cries within resounded: / "Alack for sorest need! How mickle rather lay we / in storm of battle dead. 'Fore God 'tis cause for pity, / for here we all must die! Now doth the queen upon us / vengeance wreak full grievously." 2113 Among them spake another: / "Our lives we here must end. What now avails the greeting / the king to us did send? So sore this heat oppresseth / and parched with thirst my tongue, My life from very anguish / I ween I must resign ere long." 2114 Then quoth of Tronje Hagen: / "Ye noble knights and good, Whoe'er by thirst is troubled, / here let him drink the blood. Than wine more potent is it / where such high heat doth rage, Nor may we at this season / find us a better beverage." 2115 Where fallen knight was lying, / thither a warrior went. Aside he laid his helmet, / to gaping wound he bent, And soon was seen a-quaffing / therefrom the flowing blood. To him though all unwonted, / yet seemed he there such drinking good. 2116 "Now God reward thee, Hagen," / the weary warrior said, "That I so well have drunken, / thus by thy teaching led. Better wine full seldom / hath been poured for me, And live I yet a season / I'll ever faithful prove to thee." 2117 When there did hear the others / how to him it seemed good, Many more beheld ye / eke that drank the blood. Each thereby new vigor / for his body won, And eke for lover fallen / wept many a buxom dame anon. 2118 The flaming brands fell thickly / upon them in the hall, With upraised shields they kept them / yet scatheless from their fall, Though smoke and heat together / wrought them anguish sore. Beset were heroes never, / I ween, by so great woe before. 2119 Then spake of Tronje Hagen: / "Stand nigh unto the wall, Let not the brands all flaming / upon your helmets fall. Into the blood beneath you / tread them with your feet. In sooth in evil fashion / us doth our royal hostess greet." 2120 In trials thus endured / ebbed the night away. Still without the portal / did the keen Fiddler stay And Hagen his good fellow, / o'er shield their bodies leant; They deemed the men of Etzel / still on further mischief bent. 2121 Then was heard the Fiddler: / "Pass we into the hall, For so the Huns shall fondly / deem we are perished all Amid the mickle torture / we suffer at their hand. Natheless shall they behold us / boun for fight before them stand." 2122 Spake then of Burgundy / the young Sir Giselher: "I ween 'twill soon be dawning, / for blows a cooler air. To live in fuller joyance / now grant us God in heaven. To us dire entertainment / my sister Kriemhild here hath given." 2123 Spake again another: / "Lo! how I feel the day. For that no better fortune / here await us may, So don, ye knights, your armor, / and guard ye well your life. Full soon, in sooth, we suffer / again at hands of Etzel's wife." 2124 Fondly Etzel fancied / the strangers all were dead, From sore stress of battle / and from the fire dread; Yet within were living / six hundred men so brave, That never thanes more worthy / a monarch for liegemen might have. 2125 The watchers set to watch them / soon full well had seen How still lived the strangers, / spite what wrought had been Of harm and grievous evil, / on the monarchs and their band. Within the hall they saw them / still unscathed and dauntless stand. 2126 Told 'twas then to Kriemhild / how they from harm were free. Whereat the royal lady / quoth, such thing ne'er might be That any still were living / from that fire dread. "Nay, believe I rather / that within they all lie dead." 2127 Gladly yet the strangers / would a truce compound, Might any grace to offer / amid their foes be found. But such appeared not any / in them of Hunnish land. Well to avenge their dying / prepared they then with willing hand. 2128 About the dawn of morning / greeted they were again With a vicious onslaught, / that paid full many a thane. There was flung upon them / many a mighty spear, While gallantly did guard them / the lofty thanes that knew not fear. 2129 The warriors of Etzel / were all of eager mood, And Kriemhild's promised bounty / win for himself each would; To do the king's high bidding / did likewise urge their mind. 'Twas cause full soon that many / were doomed swift death in fight to find. 2130 Of store of bounty promised / might wonders great be told, She bade on shields to carry / forth the ruddy gold, And gave to him that wished it / or would but take her store; In sooth a greater hire / ne'er tempted 'gainst the foe before. 2131 A mickle host of warriors / went forth in battle-gear. Then quoth the valiant Volker: / "Still may ye find us here. Ne'er saw I move to battle / warriors more fain, That to work us evil / the bounty of the king have ta'en." 2132 Then cried among them many: / "Hither, ye knights, more nigh! Since all at last must perish, / 'twere better instantly; And here no warrior falleth / but who fore-doomed hath been." With well-flung spears all bristling / full quickly then their shields were seen. 2133 What need of further story? / Twelve hundred stalwart men, Repulsed in onset gory, / still returned again; But dealing wounds around them / the strangers cooled their mood, And there stood all unvanquished. / Flowing might ye see the blood 2134 From deep wounds and mortal, / whereof were many slain. For friends in battle fallen / heard ye loud complain; Slain were all those warriors / that served the mighty king, Whereat from loving kinsmen / arose a mickle sorrowing. THIRTY-SEVENTH ADVENTURE How the Margrave Ruediger was Slain 2135 At morning light the strangers / had wrought high deed of fame, When the spouse of Gotelinde / unto the courtyard came. To behold on both sides / such woe befallen there, Might not refrain from weeping / sorely the faithful Ruediger. 2136 "O woe is me!" exclaimed he, / "that ever I was born. Alack that this great sorrow / no hand from us may turn! Though I be ne'er so willing, / the king no peace will know, For he beholds his sorrow / ever great and greater grow." 2137 Then did the kindly Ruediger / unto Dietrich send, If to the lofty monarchs / they yet might truce extend. The knight of Bern gave message: / "How might such thing be? For ne'er the royal Etzel / granteth to end it peacefully." 2138 When a Hunnish warrior / saw standing Ruediger As from eyes sore weeping / fell full many a tear, To his royal mistress spake he: / "Behold how stands he there With whom here by Etzel / none other may in might compare, 2139 "And who commandeth service / of lands and people all. How many lordly castles / Ruediger his own doth call, That unto him hath given / the bounty of the king! Not yet in valorous conflict / saw'st thou here his sword to swing. 2140 "Methinks, but little recks he, / what may here betide, Since now in fullest measure / his heart is satisfied. 'Tis told he is, surpassing / all men, forsooth, so keen, But in this time of trials / his valor ill-displayed hath been." 2141 Stood there full of sorrow / the brave and faithful man, Yet whom he thus heard speaking / he cast his eyes upon. Thought he: "Thou mak'st atonement, / who deem'st my mettle cold. Thy thought here all too loudly / hast thou unto the people told." 2142 His fist thereat he doubled / and upon him ran, And smote with blow so mighty / there King Etzel's man That prone before him straightway / fell that mocker dead. So came but greater sorrow / on the royal Etzel's head. 2143 "Hence thou basest caitiff," / cried then Ruediger; "Here of pain and sorrow / enough I have to bear. Wherefore wilt thou taunt me / that I the combat shun? In sooth had I the utmost / of harm upon the strangers done, 2144 "For that good reason have I / to bear them hate indeed, But that myself the warriors / as friends did hither lead. Yea, was I their safe escort / into my master's land; So may I, man most wretched, / ne'er raise against them hostile hand." 2145 Then spake the lofty Etzel / unto the margrave: "What aid, O noble Ruediger, / here at thy hands we have! Our country hath so many / already doomed to die, We need not any other: / now hast thou wrought full wrongfully." 2146 Returned the knight so noble: / "My heart he sore hath grieved, And reproached me for high honors / at thy hand received And eke for gifts unto me / by thee so freely made; Dearly for his slander / hath the base traducer paid." 2147 When had the queen come hither / and had likewise seen How on the Hunnish warrior / his wrath had vented been, Incontinent she mourned it, / and tears bedimmed her sight. Spake she unto Ruediger: / "How dost thou now our love requite, 2148 "That for me and thy master / thou bring'st increase of woe? Now hast thou, noble Ruediger, / ever told us so, How that thou life and honor / for our sake wouldst dare. Eke heard I thanes full many / proclaim thee knight beyond compare. 2149 "Of the oath I now remind thee / that thou to me didst swear, When counsel first thou gavest / to Etzel's land to fare, That thou wouldst truly serve me / till one of us were dead: Of that I wretched woman / never stood so sore in need." 2150 "Nor do I, royal mistress, / deny that so I sware That I for thy well-being / would life and honor dare: But eke my soul to forfeit, / --that sware I not indeed. 'Tis I thy royal brothers / hither to this land did lead." 2151 Quoth she: "Bethink thee, Ruediger, / of thy fidelity And oath once firmly plighted / that aught of harm to me Should ever be avenged, / and righted every ill." Replied thereto the margrave: / "Ne'er have I failed to work thy will." 2152 Etzel the mighty monarch / to implore him then began, And king and queen together / down knelt before their man, Whereat the good margrave / was seen in sorest plight, And gan to mourn his station / in piteous words the faithful knight. 2153 "O woe is me most wretched," / he sorrow-stricken cried, "That forced I am my honor / thus to set aside, And bonds of faith and friendship / God hath imposed on me. O Thou that rul'st in heaven! / come death, I cannot yet be free. 2154 "Whate'er it be my effort / to do or leave undone, I break both faith and honor / in doing either one; But leave I both, all people / will cry me worthy scorn. May He look down in mercy / who bade me wretched man be born!" 2155 With many a prayer besought him / the king and eke his spouse, Wherefore was many a warrior / soon doomed his life to lose At hand of noble Ruediger, / when eke did die the thane. Now hear ye how he bore him, / though filled his heart with sorest pain. 2156 He knew how scathe did wait him / and boundless sorrowing, And gladly had refused / to obey the king And eke his royal mistress. / Full sorely did he fear, That if one stranger slew he, / the scorn of all the world he'd bear. 2157 Then spake unto the monarch / the full gallant thane: "O royal sire, whatever / thou gavest, take again, The land and every castle, / that naught remain to me. On foot a lonely pilgrim / I'll wander to a far country." 2158 Thereto replied King Etzel: / "Who then gave help to me? My land and lordly castles / give I all to thee, If on my foes, O Ruediger, / revenge thou wilt provide. A mighty monarch seated, / shalt thou be by Etzel's side." 2159 Again gave answer Ruediger: / "How may that ever be? At my own home shared they / my hospitality. Meat and drink I offered / to them in friendly way, And gave them of my bounty: / how shall I seek them here to slay ? 2160 "The folk belike will fancy / that I a coward be. Ne'er hath faithful service / been refused by me Unto the noble princes / and their warriors too; That e'er I gained their friendship, / now 'tis cause for me to rue. 2161 "For spouse unto Sir Giselher / gave I a daughter mine, Nor into fairer keeping / might I her resign, Where truth were sought and honor / and gentle courtesy: Ne'er saw I thane so youthful / virtuous in mind as he." 2162 Again gave answer Kriemhild: / "O noble Ruediger, To me and royal Etzel / in mercy now give ear For sorrows that o'erwhelm us. / Bethink thee, I implore, That monarch never any / harbored so evil guests before." 2163 Spake in turn the margrave / unto the monarch's wife: "Ruediger requital / must make to-day with life For that thou and my master / did me so true befriend. Therefore must I perish; / now must my service find an end. 2164 "E'en this day, well know I, / my castles and my land Must surely lose their master / beneath a stranger's hand. To thee my wife and children / commend I for thy care, And with all the lorn ones / that wait by Bechelaren's towers fair." 2165 "Now God reward thee, Ruediger," / thereat King Etzel quoth. He and the queen together, / right joyful were they both. "To us shall all thy people / full commended be; Eke trow I by my fortune / no harm shall here befall to thee." 2166 For their sake he ventured / soul and life to lose. Thereat fell sore to weeping / the royal Etzel's spouse. He spake: "I must unto you / my plighted word fulfil. Alack! beloved strangers, / whom to assail forbids my will." 2167 From the king there parting / ye saw him, sad of mood, And passed unto his warriors / who at small distance stood. "Don straightway now your armor, / my warriors all," quoth he. "Alas! must I to battle / with the valiant knights of Burgundy." 2168 Then straightway for their armor / did the warriors call. A shining helm for this one, / for that a shield full tall Soon did the nimble squires / before them ready hold. Anon came saddest tidings / unto the stranger warriors bold. 2169 With Ruediger there saw ye / five hundred men arrayed, And noble thanes a dozen / that came unto his aid, Thinking in storm of battle / to win them honor high. In sooth but little knew they / how death awaited them so nigh. 2170 With helm on head advancing / saw ye Sir Ruediger. Swords that cut full keenly / the margrave's men did bear, And eke in hand each carried / a broad shield shining bright. Boundless was the Fiddler's / sorrow to behold the sight. 2171 When saw the youthful Giselher / his bride's sire go Thus with fastened helmet, / how might he ever know What he therewith did purpose / if 'twere not only good? Thereat the noble monarchs / right joyous might ye see of mood. 2172 "I joy for friends so faithful," / spake Giselher the thane, "As on our journey hither / we for ourselves did gain. Full great shall be our vantage / that I found spouse so dear, And high my heart rejoiceth / that plighted thus to wed we were." 2173 "Small cause I see for comfort," / thereto the minstrel spake. "When saw ye thanes so many / come a truce to make With helmet firmly fastened / and bearing sword in hand? By scathe to us will Ruediger / service do for tower and land." 2174 The while that thus the Fiddler / had spoken to the end, His way the noble Ruediger / unto the hall did wend. His trusty shield he rested / on the ground before his feet, Yet might he never offer / his friends in kindly way to greet. 2175 Loudly the noble margrave / cried into the hall: "Now guard you well, ye valiant / Nibelungen all. From me ye should have profit: / now have ye harm from me. But late we plighted friendship: / broken now these vows must be." 2176 Then quailed to hear such tidings / those knights in sore distress, For none there was among them / but did joy the less That he would battle with them / for whom great love they bore. At hand of foes already / had they suffered travail sore. 2177 "Now God in heaven forfend it," / there King Gunther cried, "That from mercy to us / thou so wilt turn aside, And the faithful friendship / whereof hope had we. I trow in sooth that never / may such thing be done by thee." 2178 "Desist therefrom I may not," / the keen knight made reply, "But now must battle with you, / for vow thereto gave I. "Now guard you, gallant warriors, / as fear ye life to lose: From plighted vow release me / will nevermore King Etzel's spouse." 2179 "Too late thou turnst against us," / spake King Gunther there. "Now might God requite thee, / O noble Ruediger, For the faith and friendship / thou didst on us bestow, If thou a heart more kindly / even to the end wouldst show. 2180 "We'd ever make requital / for all that thou didst give,-- I and all my kinsmen, / wouldst thou but let us live,-- For thy gifts full stately, / as faithfully thou here To Etzel's land didst lead us: / know that, O noble Ruediger." 2181 "To me what pleasure were it," / Ruediger did say, "With full hand of my treasure / unto you to weigh And with a mind right willing / as was my hope to do! Thus might no man reproach me / with lack of courtesy to you." 2182 "Turn yet, O noble Ruediger." / Gernot spake again, "For in so gracious manner / did never entertain Any host the stranger, / as we were served by thee; And live we yet a little, / shall thou well requited be." 2183 "O would to God, full noble / Gernot," spake Ruediger, "That ye were at Rhine river / and that dead I were With somewhat saved of honor, / since I must be your foe! Upon good knights was never / wrought by friends more bitter woe." 2184 "Now God requite thee, Ruediger," / Gernot gave reply, "For gifts so fair bestowed. / I rue to see thee die, For that in thee shall perish / knight of so gentle mind. Here thy sword I carry, / that gav'st thou me in friendship kind. 2185 "It never yet hath failed me / in this our sorest need, And 'neath its cutting edges / many a knight lies dead. 'Tis strong and bright of lustre, / cunning wrought and well. I ween, whate'er was given / by knight it doth in worth excel. 2186 "An wilt thou not give over / upon us here to fall, And if one friend thou slayest / here yet within this hall, With this same sword thou gavest, / I'll take from thee thy life. I sorrow for thee Ruediger, / and eke thy fair and stately wife." 2187 "Would God but give, Sir Gernot, / that such thing might be, That thou thy will completely / here fulfilled mightst see, And of thy friends not any / here his life should lose! Yea, shalt thou live to comfort / both my daughter and my spouse." 2188 Then out spake of Burgundy / the son of Ute fair: "How dost thou so, Sir Ruediger? / All that with me are To thee are well disposed. / Thou dost an evil thing, And wilt thine own fair daughter / to widowhood too early bring. 2189 "If thou with armed warriors / wilt thus assail me here, In what unfriendly manner / thou makest to appear How that in thee I trusted / beyond all men beside, When thy fairest daughter / erstwhile I won to be my bride." 2190 "Thy good faith remember, / O Prince of virtue rare, If God from hence do bring thee," / --so spake Ruediger: "Forsake thou not the maiden / when bereft of me, But rather grant thy goodness / be dealt to her more graciously." 2191 "That would I do full fairly," / spake Giselher again. "But if my lofty kinsmen, / who yet do here remain, Beneath thy hand shall perish, / severed then must be The friendship true I cherish / eke for thy daughter and for thee." 2192 "Then God to us give mercy," / the knight full valiant spake. Their shields in hand then took they, / as who perforce would make Their passage to the strangers / into Kriemhild's hall. Adown the stair full loudly / did Hagen, knight of Tronje, call: 2193 "Tarry yet a little, / O noble Ruediger, For further would we parley," / --thus might ye Hagen hear-- "I and my royal masters, / as presseth sorest need. What might it boot to Etzel / that we strangers all lay dead. 2194 "Great is here my trouble," / Hagen did declare: "The shield that Lady Gotelinde / gave to me to bear Hath now been hewn asunder / by Hun-men in my hand. With friendly thought I bore it / hither into Etzel's land. 2195 "Would that God in heaven / might grant in kindliness, That I a shield so trusty / did for my own possess As in thy hand thou bearest, / O noble Ruediger! In battle-storm then need I / never hauberk more to wear." 2196 "Full glad I'd prove my friendship / to thee with mine own shield, Dared I the same to offer / before Lady Kriemhild. But take it, natheless, Hagen, / and bear it in thy hand. Would that thou mightst take it / again unto Burgundian land!" 2197 When with mind so willing / he offered him his shield, Saw ye how eyes full many / with scalding tears were filled; For the last gift was it / that was offered e'er Unto any warrior / by Bechelaren's margrave, Ruediger. 2198 How grim soe'er was Hagen / and stern soe'er of mind, That gift to pity moved him / that there the chieftain kind, So near his latest moment, / did on him bestow. From eyes of many another / began likewise the tears to flow. 2199 "Now God in heaven requite thee, / O noble Ruediger! Like unto thee none other / warrior was there e'er, Unto knights all friendless / so bounteously to give. God grant in his mercy / thy virtue evermore to live. 2200 "Woe's me to hear such tiding," / Hagen did declare. "Such load of grief abiding / already do we bear, If we with friends must struggle, / to God our plaint must be." Thereto replied the margrave: / "'Tis cause of sorrow sore to me." 2201 "To pay thee for thy favor, / O noble Ruediger, Howe'er these lofty warriors / themselves against thee bear, Yet never thee in combat / here shall touch my hand, E'en though complete thou slayest / them from out Burgundian land." 2202 Thereat the lofty Ruediger / 'fore him did courteous bend. On all sides was lamenting / that no man might end These so great heart-sorrows / that sorely they must bear. The father of all virtue / fell with noble Ruediger. 2203 Then eke the minstrel Volker / from hall down glancing said: "Since Hagen thus, my comrade, / peace with thee hath made, Lasting truce thou likewise / receivest from my hand. Well hast thou deserved it / as fared we hither to this land. 2204 "Thou, O noble margrave, / my messenger shalt be. These arm-bands ruddy golden / thy lady gave to me, That here at this high festival / I the same should wear. Now mayst thyself behold them / and of my faith a witness bear." 2205 "Would God but grant," / spake Ruediger, "who ruleth high in heaven, That to thee by my lady / might further gift be given! I'll gladly tell thy tidings / to spouse full dear to me, An I but live to see her: / from doubt thereof thou mayst be free." 2206 When thus his word was given, / his shield raised Ruediger. Nigh to madness driven / bode he no longer there, But ran upon the strangers / like to a valiant knight. Many a blow full rapid / smote the margrave in his might. 2207 Volker and Hagen / made way before the thane, As before had promised / to him the warriors twain. Yet found he by the portal / so many a valiant man That Ruediger the combat / with mickle boding sore began. 2208 Gunther and Gernot / with murderous intent Let him pass the portal, / as knights on victory bent. Backward yielded Giselher, / with sorrow all undone; He hoped to live yet longer, / and therefore Ruediger would shun. 2209 Straight upon their enemies / the margrave's warriors sprung, And following their master / was seen a valiant throng. Swords with cutting edges / did they in strong arm wield, 'Neath which full many a helmet / was cleft, and many a fair wrought shield. 2210 The weary strangers likewise / smote many a whirring slash, Wherefrom the men of Bechelaren / felt deep and long the gash Through the shining ring-mail / e'en to their life's core. In storm of battle wrought they / glorious deeds a many more. 2211 All his trusty followers / now eke had gained the hall, On whom Volker and Hagen / did soon in fury fall, And mercy unto no man / save Ruediger they showed. The blood adown through helmets, / where smote their swords, full plenteous flowed. 2212 How right furiously / were swords 'gainst armor driven! On shields the well-wrought mountings / from their wards were riven, And fell their jewelled facings / all scattered in the blood. Ne'er again might warriors / show in fight so grim a mood. 2213 The lord of Bechelaren / through foemen cut his way, As doth each doughty warrior / in fight his might display. On that day did Ruediger / show full plain that he A hero was undaunted, / full bold and eke full praiseworthy. 2214 Stood there two knights right gallant, / Gunther and Gernot, And in the storm of battle / to death full many smote. Eke Giselher and Dankwart, / never aught recked they How many a lusty fighter / saw 'neath their hand his latest day. 2215 Full well did show him Ruediger / a knight of mettle true, Doughty in goodly armor. / What warriors there he slew! Beheld it a Burgundian, / and cause for wrath was there. Not longer now was distant / the death of noble Ruediger. 2216 Gernot, knight full doughty, / addressed the margrave then, Thus speaking to the hero: / "Wilt thou of all my men Living leave not any, / O noble Ruediger? That gives me grief unmeasured; / the sight I may not longer bear. 2217 "Now must thy gift unto me / prove thy sorest bane, Since of my friends so many / thou from me hast ta'en. Now hither turn to front me, / thou bold and noble knight: As far as might may bear me / I trust to pay thy gift aright." 2218 Ere that full the margrave / might make his way to him, Must rings of glancing mail-coats / with flowing blood grow dim. Then sprang upon each other / those knights on honor bent, And each from wounds deep cutting / sought to keep him all unshent. 2219 Their swords cut so keenly / that might withstand them naught. With mighty arm Sir Ruediger / Gernot then smote Through the flint-hard helmet, / that downward flowed the blood. Therefor repaid him quickly / the knight of keen and valiant mood. 2220 The gift he had of Ruediger / high in hand he swung, And though to death was wounded / he smote with blow so strong That the good shield was cloven / and welded helmet through. The spouse of fair Gotelinde, / then his latest breath he drew. 2221 In sooth so sad requital / found rich bounty ne'er. Slain fell they both together, / Gernot and Ruediger, Alike in storm of battle, / each by the other's hand. Sore was the wrath of Hagen / when he the harm did understand. 2222 Cried there the lord of Tronje: / "Great is here our loss. In death of these two heroes / such scathe befalleth us, Wherefor land and people / shall repine for aye. The warriors of Ruediger / must now to us the forfeit pay." 2223 "Alack for this my brother, / snatched by death this day! What host of woes unbidden / encompass me alway! Eke must I moan it ever / that noble Ruediger fell. Great is the scathe to both sides / and great the sorrowing as well." 2224 When then beheld Sir Giselher / his lover's sire dead, Must all that with him followed / suffer direst need. There Death was busy seeking / to gather in his train, And of the men of Bechelaren / came forth not one alive again. 2225 Gunther and Giselher / and with them Hagen too, Dankwart and Volker, / doughty thanes and true, Went where found they lying / the two warriors slain, Nor at the sight the heroes / might their grief and tears restrain. 2226 "Death robbeth us right sorely," / spake young Sir Giselher: "Yet now give o'er your weeping / and let us seek the air, That the ringed mail grow cooler / on us storm-weary men. God in sooth will grant us / not longer here to live, I ween." 2227 Here sitting, and there leaning / was seen full many a thane, Resting once more from combat, / the while that all lay slain The followers of Ruediger. / Hushed was the battle's din. At length grew angry Etzel, / that stillness was so long within. 2228 "Alack for such a service!" / spake the monarch's wife; "For never 'tis so faithful / that our foes with life Must to us make payment / at Ruediger's hand. He thinks in sooth to lead them / again unto Burgundian land. 2229 "What boots it, royal Etzel, / that we did ever share With him what he desired? / The knight doth evil there. He that should avenge us, / the same a truce doth make." Thereto the stately warrior / Volker in answer spake: 2230 "Alas 'tis no such case here, / O high and royal dame. Dared I but give the lie to / one of thy lofty name, Thou hast in fiendish manner / Ruediger belied. He and all his warriors / have laid all thoughts of truce aside. 2231 "With so good heart obeyed he / his royal master's will That he and all his followers / here in death lie still. Look now about thee, Kriemhild, / who may thy hests attend. Ruediger the hero / hath served thee faithful to the end. 2232 "Wilt thou my words believe not, / to thee shall clear be shown." To cause her heart a sorrow, / there the thing was done. Wound-gashed they bore the hero / where him the king might see. Unto the thanes of Etzel / ne'er might so great sorrow be. 2233 When did they the margrave / a corse on bier behold, By chronicler might never / written be nor told All the wild lamenting / of women and of men, As with grief all stricken / out-poured they their hearts' sorrow then. 2234 Royal Etzel's sorrow / there did know no bound. Like to the voice of lion / echoing rang the sound Of the king's loud weeping, / wherein the queen had share. Unmeasured they lamented / the death of noble Ruediger. THIRTY-EIGHTH ADVENTURE How all Sir Dietrich's Knights were Slain 2235 On all sides so great sorrow / heard ye there around, That palace and high tower / did from the wail resound. Of Bern a man of Dietrich / eke the same did hear, And speedily he hastened / the tidings to his lord to bear. 2236 Spake he unto his master: / "Sir Dietrich give me ear. What yet hath been my fortune, / never did I hear Lamenting past all measure, / as at this hour hath been. Scathe unto King Etzel / himself hath happened, I ween. 2237 "Else how might they ever / all show such dire need? The king himself or Kriemhild, / one of them lieth dead, By the doughty strangers / for sake of vengeance slain. Unmeasured is the weeping / of full many a stately thane." 2238 Then spake of Bern Sir Dietrich: / "Ye men to me full dear, Now haste ye not unduly. / The deeds performed here By the stranger warriors / show sore necessity. That peace with them I blighted, / let it now their profit be." 2239 Then spake the valiant Wolfhart: / "Thither will I run To make question of it / what they now have done, And straight will tidings bring thee, / master full dear to me, When yonder I inform me, / whence may so great lamenting be." 2240 Answer gave Sir Dietrich: / "Fear they hostility, The while uncivil questioning / of their deed there be, Lightly are stirred to anger / good warriors o'er the thing. Yea, 'tis my pleasure, Wolfhart, / thou sparest them all such questioning. 2241 Helfrich he then commanded / thither with speed to go That from men of Etzel / he might truly know, Or from the strangers straightway, / what thing there had been. As that, so sore lamenting / of people ne'er before was seen. 2242 Questioned then the messenger: / "What hath here been wrought?" Answered one among them: / "Complete is come to naught What of joy we cherished / here in Hunnish land. Slain here lieth Ruediger, / fallen 'neath Burgundian hand. 2243 "Of them that entered with him / not one doth longer live." Naught might ever happen / Helfrich more to grieve, Nor ever told he tidings / so ruefully before. Weeping sore the message / unto Dietrich then he bore. 2244 "What the news thou bringst us?" / Dietrich spake once more; "Yet, O doughty Helfrich, / wherefore dost weep so sore?" Answered the noble warrior: / "With right may I complain: Yonder faithful Ruediger / lieth by the Burgundians slain." 2245 The lord of Bern gave answer: / "God let not such thing be! That were a mighty vengeance, / and eke the Devil's glee. Whereby had ever Ruediger / from them deserved such ill? Well know I to the strangers / was ever well disposed his will." 2246 Thereto gave answer Wolfhart: / "In sooth have they this done, Therefor their lives shall forfeit / surely, every one. And make we not requital, / our shame for aye it were; Full manifold our service / from hand of noble Ruediger." 2247 Then bade the lord of Amelungen / the case more full to learn. He sat within a casement / and did full sadly mourn. He prayed then that Hildebrand / unto the strangers go, That he from their own telling / of the case complete might know. 2248 The warrior keen in battle, / Master Hildebrand, Neither shield nor weapon / bore he in his hand, But would in chivalrous manner / unto the strangers go. His sister's son reviled him / that he would venture thus to do. 2249 Spake in anger Wolfhart: / "Goest thou all weaponless, Must I of such action / free my thought confess: Thou shalt in shameful fashion / hither come again; Goest thou armed thither, / will all from harm to thee refrain." 2250 So armed himself the old man / at counsel of the young. Ere he was ware of it, / into their armor sprung All of Dietrich's warriors / and stood with sword in hand. Grieved he was, and gladly / had turned them Master Hildebrand. 2251 He asked them whither would they. / "Thee company we'll bear, So may, perchance, less willing / Hagen of Tronje dare, As so oft his custom, / to give thee mocking word." The thane his leave did grant them / at last when he their speech had heard. 2252 Keen Volker saw approaching, / in armor all arrayed, Of Bern the gallant warriors / that Dietrich's word obeyed, With sword at girdle hanging / and bearing shield in hand. Straight he told the tidings / to his masters of Burgundian land. 2253 Spake the doughty Fiddler: / "Yonder see I come near The warriors of Dietrich / all clad in battle gear And decked their heads with helmets, / as if our harm they mean. For us knights here homeless / approacheth evil end, I ween." 2254 Meanwhile was come anigh them / Master Hildebrand. Before his foot he rested / the shield he bore in hand, And soon began to question / the men of Gunther there: "Alack, ye gallant warriors, / what harm hath wrought you Ruediger? 2255 "Me did my master Dietrich / hither to you command: If now the noble margrave / hath fallen 'neath the hand Of any knight among you, / as word to us is borne, Such a mighty sorrow / might we never cease to mourn." 2256 Then spake of Tronje Hagen: / "True is the tale ye hear. Though glad I were, if to you / had lied the messenger, And if the faithful Ruediger / still his life might keep, For whom both man and woman / must ever now in sorrow weep!" 2257 When they for sooth the passing / of the hero knew, Those gallant knights bemoaned him / like faithful friends and true; On Dietrich's lusty warriors / saw ye fall the tear Adown the bearded visage, / for sad of heart in truth they were. 2258 Of Bern then a chieftain, / Siegstab, further cried: "Of all the mickle comfort / now an end is made, That Ruediger erst prepared us / after our days of pain. The joy of exiled people / here lieth by you warriors slain." 2259 Then spake of Amelungen / the thane Wolfwein: "If that this day beheld I / dead e'en sire of mine, No more might be my sorrow / than for this hero's life. Alack! who bringeth comfort / now to the noble margrave's wife?" 2260 Spake eke in angry humor / Wolfhart a stalwart thane: "Who now shall lead our army / on the far campaign, As full oft the margrave / of old hath led our host? Alack! O noble Ruediger, / that in such manner thee we've lost!" 2261 Wolfbrand and Helfrich / and Helmnot with warriors all Mourned there together / that he in death must fall. For sobbing might not further / question Hildebrand. He spake: "Now do, ye warriors, / according to my lord's command. 2262 "Yield unto us Ruediger's / corse from out the hall, In whose death to sorrow / hath passed our pleasure all; And let us do him service / for friendship true of yore That e'er for us he cherished / and eke for many a stranger more. 2263 "We too from home are exiles / like unto Ruediger. Why keep ye us here waiting? / Him grant us hence to bear, That e'en though death hath reft him / our service he receive, Though fairer had we paid it / the while the hero yet did live." 2264 Thereto spake King Gunther: / "No service equal may That which, when death hath reft him, / to friend a friend doth pay. Him deem I friend right faithful, / whoe'er the same may do. Well make ye here requital / for many a service unto you." 2265 "How long shall we beseech you," / spake Wolfhart the thane; "Since he that best consoled us / by you now lieth slain, And we, alas, no longer / his living aid may have, Grant us hence to bear him / and lay the hero in his grave." 2266 Thereto answered Volker: / "Thy prayer shall all deny. From out the hall thou take him, / where doth the hero lie 'Neath deep wounds and mortal / in blood now smitten down. So may by thee best service / here to Ruediger be shown." 2267 Answered Wolfhart boldly: / "Sir Fiddleman, God wot Thou shalt forbear to stir us, / for woe on us thou'st wrought. Durst I despite my master, / uncertain were thy life; Yet must we here keep silence, / for he did bid us shun the strife." 2268 Then spake again the Fiddler: / "'Tis all too much of fear, For that a thing's forbidden, / meekly to forbear. Scarce may I deem it valor / worthy good knight to tell." What said his faithful comrade, / did please the doughty Hagen well. 2269 "For proof be not o'er-eager," / Wolfhart quick replied, "Else so I'll tune thy fiddle / that when again ye ride Afar unto Rhine river, / sad tale thou tellest there. Thy haughty words no longer / may I now with honor bear." 2270 Spake once more the Fiddler: / "If e'er the harmony Of my fiddle-strings thou breakest, / thy helmet's sheen shall be Made full dim of lustre / by stroke of this my hand, Howe'er fall out my journey / homeward to Burgundian land." 2271 Then would he rush upon him / but that him did restrain Hildebrand his uncle / who seized him amain. "I ween thou would'st be witless, / by youthful rage misled. My master's favor had'st thou / evermore thus forfeited." 2272 "Let loose the lion, Master, / that doth rage so sore. If but my sword may reach him," / spake Volker further more, "Though he the world entire / by his own might had slain, I'll smite him that an answer / never may he chant again." 2273 Thereat with anger straightway / the men of Bern were filled. Wolfhart, thane right valiant, / grasped in haste his shield, And like to a wild lion / out before them sped. By friends a goodly number / full quickly was he followed. 2274 Though by the hall went striding / ne'er so swift the thane, O'ertook him Master Hildebrand / ere he the steps might gain, For nowise would he let him / be foremost in the fray. In the stranger warriors / worthy foemen soon found they. 2275 Straight saw ye upon Hagen / rush Master Hildebrand, And sword ye heard give music / in each foeman's hand. Sore they were enraged, / as ye soon were ware, For from their swinging broadswords / whirred the ruddy sparks in air. 2276 Yet soon the twain were parted / in the raging fight: The men of Bern so turned it / by their dauntless might. Ere long then was Hildebrand / from Hagen turned away, While that the doughty Wolfhart / the valiant Volker sought to slay. 2277 Upon the helm the Fiddler / he smote with blow so fierce That the sword's keen edges / unto the frame did pierce. With mighty stroke repaid him / the valiant minstrel too, And so belabored Wolfhart / that thick the sparks around him flew. 2278 Hewing they made the fire / from mail-rings scintillate, For each unto the other / bore a deadly hate. Of Bern the thane Wolfwein / at length did part the two,-- Which thing might none other / than man of mickle prowess do. 2279 Gunther, knight full gallant, / received with ready hand There the stately warriors / of Amelungen land. Eke did young Giselher / of many a helmet bright, With blood all red and reeking, / cause to grow full dim the light. 2280 Dankwart, Hagen's brother, / was a warrior grim. What erstwhile in combat / had been wrought by him Against the men of Etzel / seemed now as toying vain, As fought with flaming ire / the son of valiant Aldrian. 2281 Ritschart and Gerbart, / Helfrich and Wichart Had oft in storm of battle / with valor borne their part, As now 'fore men of Gunther / they did clear display. Likewise saw ye Wolfbrand / glorious amid the fray. 2282 There old Master Hildebrand / fought as he were wode. Many a doughty warrior / was stricken in the blood By the sword that swinging / in Wolfhart's hand was seen. Thus took dire vengeance / for Ruediger those knights full keen. 2283 Havoc wrought Sir Siegstab / there with might and main. Ho! in the hurly-burly / what helms he cleft in twain Upon the crowns of foemen, / Dietrich's sister's son! Ne'er in storm of battle / had he more feats of valor done. 2284 When the doughty Volker / there aright had seen How many a bloody rivulet / was hewn by Siegstab keen From out the well-wrought mail-rings, / the hero's ire arose. Quick he sprang toward him, / Siegstab then his life must lose. 2285 Ere long time was over, / 'neath the Fiddler's hand, Who of his art did give him / such share to understand That beneath his broadsword / smitten to death he lay. Old Hildebrand avenged him / as bade his mighty arm alway. 2286 "Alack that knight so loved," / spake Master Hildebrand, "Here should thus lie fallen / 'neath Volker's hand. Now lived his latest hour / in sooth this Fiddler hath." Filled was the hero Hildebrand / straightway with a mighty wrath. 2287 With might smote he Volker / that severed flew the band E'en to the hall's wide limit / far on either hand From shield and eke from helmet / borne by the Fiddler keen; Therewith the doughty Volker / reft of life at last had been. 2288 Pressed eager to the combat / Dietrich's warriors true, Smiting that the mail-rings / afar from harness flew, And that the broken sword-points / soaring aloft ye saw, The while that reeking blood-stains / did they from riven helmets draw. 2289 There of Tronje Hagen / beheld Volker dead. In that so bloody carnage / 'twas far the sorest need Of all that did befall him / in death of friend and man. Alack! for him what vengeance / Hagen then to wreak began! 2290 "Therefrom shall profit never / Master Hildebrand. Slain hath been here my helper / 'neath the warrior's hand, The best of feres in battle / that fortune ever sent." His shield upraised he higher / and hewing through the throng he went. 2291 Next saw ye Dankwart / by doughty Helfrich slain, Gunther and Giselher / did full sorely plain, When they beheld him fallen / where fiercely raged the fray. For his death beforehand / dearly did his foemen pay. 2292 The while coursed Wolfhart / thither and back again, Through Gunther's men before him / hewing wide a lane. Thrice in sooth returning / strode he down the hall, And many a lusty warrior / 'neath his doughty hand must fall. 2293 Soon the young Sir Giselher / cried aloud to him: "Alack, that I should ever / find such foeman grim! Sir knight, so bold and noble, / now turn thee here to me. I trow to end thy coursing, / the which will I no longer see." 2294 To Giselher then turned him / Wolfhart in the fight, And gaping wounds full many / did each the other smite. With such a mighty fury / he to the monarch sped That 'neath his feet went flying / the blood e'en high above his head. 2295 With rapid blows and furious / the son of Ute fair Received the valiant Wolfhart / as came he to him there. How strong soe'er the thane was, / his life must ended be. Never king so youthful / might bear himself more valiantly. 2296 Straight he smote Wolfhart / through well-made cuirass, That from the wound all gaping / the flowing blood did pass. Unto death he wounded / Dietrich's liegeman true, Which thing in sooth might never / any save knight full gallant do. 2297 When the valiant Wolfhart / of the wound was ware, His shield flung he from him / and high with hand in air Raised he a mighty weapon / whose keen edge failed not. Through helmet and through mail-rings / Giselher with might he smote. 2298 Grimly each the other / there to death had done. Of Dietrich's men no longer / lived there ever one. When old Master Hildebrand / Wolfhart's fall had seen, In all his life there never / such sorrow him befell, I ween. 2299 Fallen now were Gunther's / warriors every one, And eke the men of Dietrich. / Hildebrand the while had gone Where Wolfhart had fallen / down in pool of blood. In his arms then clasped he / the warrior of dauntless mood. 2300 Forth from the hall to bear him / vainly did he try: But all too great the burden / and there he still must lie. The dying knight looked upward / from his bloody bed And saw how that full gladly / him his uncle thence had led. 2301 Spake he thus mortal wounded: / "Uncle full dear to me, Now mayst thou at such season / no longer helpful be. To guard thee well from Hagen / indeed me seemeth good, For bears he in his bosom / a heart in sooth of grimmest mood. 2302 "And if for me my kinsmen / at my death would mourn, Unto the best and nearest / by thee be message borne That for me they weep not, / --of that no whit is need. At hand of valiant monarch / here lie I gloriously dead. 2303 "Eke my life so dearly / within this hall I've sold, That have sore cause for weeping / the wives of warriors bold. If any make thee question, / then mayst thou freely say That my own hand nigh hundred / warriors hath slain to-day." 2304 Now was Hagen mindful / of the minstrel slain, From whom the valiant Hildebrand / erstwhile his life had ta'en. Unto the Master spake he: / "My woes shalt thou repay. Full many a warrior gallant / thou hast ta'en from us hence away." 2305 He smote upon Hildebrand / that loud was heard the tone Of Balmung resounding / that erst did Siegfried own, But Hagen bold did seize it / when he the hero slew. The old warrior did guard him, / as he was knight of mettle true. 2306 Dietrich's doughty liegeman / with broadsword did smite That did cut full sorely, / upon Tronje's knight; Yet had the man of Gunther / never any harm. Through his cuirass well-jointed / Hagen smote with mighty arm. 2307 Soon as his wound perceived / the aged Hildebrand, Feared he more of damage / to take from Hagen's hand; Across his back full deftly / his shield swung Dietrich's man, And wounded deep, the hero / in flight 'fore Hagen's fury ran. 2308 Now longer lived not any / of all that goodly train Save Gunther and Hagen, / doughty warriors twain. With blood from wound down streaming / fled Master Hildebrand, Whom soon in Dietrich's presence, / saw ye with saddest tidings stand. 2309 He found the chieftain sitting / with sorrow all distraught, Yet mickle more of sadness / unto him he brought. When Dietrich saw how Hildebrand / cuirass all blood-red wore, With fearful heart he questioned, / what the news to him he bore. 2310 "Now tell me, Master Hildebrand, / how thus wet thou be From thy life-blood flowing, / or who so harmeth thee. In hall against the strangers / thou'st drawn thy sword, I ween. 'Twere well my straight denial / here by these had honored been." 2311 Replied he to his master: / "From Hagen cometh all. This deep wound he smote me / there within the hall When I from his fury / thought to turn away. 'Tis marvel that I living / saved me from the fiend this day." 2312 Then of Bern spake Dietrich: / "Aright hast thou thy share, For thou didst hear me friendship / unto these knights declare, And now the peace hast broken, / that I to them did give. If my disgrace it were not, / by this hand no longer shouldst thou live." 2313 "Now be not, Master Dietrich, / so sorely stirred to wrath. On me and on my kinsmen / is wrought too great a scathe. Thence sought we Ruediger / to bear all peacefully, The which by men of Gunther / to us no whit would granted be." 2314 "Ah, woe is me for sorrow! / Is Ruediger then dead, In all my need there never / such grief hath happened. The noble Gotelinde / is cousin fair to me. Alack for the poor orphans / that there in Bechelaren must be!" 2315 Grief and anguish filled him / o'er Ruediger thus slain, Nor might at all the hero / the flowing tears restrain. "Alack for faithful helper / that death from me hath torn. King Etzel's trusty liegeman / never may I cease to mourn. 2316 "Canst thou, Master Hildebrand, / true the tidings say, Who might be the warrior / that Ruediger did slay?" "That did the doughty Gernot / with mighty arm," he said: "Eke at hand of Ruediger / lieth the royal hero dead." 2317 Spake he again to Hildebrand: / "Now let my warriors know, That straightway they shall arm them, / for thither will I go. And bid to fetch hither / my shining mail to me. Myself those knights will question / of the land of Burgundy." 2318 "Who here shall do thee service?" / spake Master Hildebrand; "All that thou hast yet living, / thou seest before thee stand. Of all remain I only; / the others, they are dead." As was in sooth good reason, / filled the tale his soul with dread, 2319 For in his life did never / such woe to him befall. He spake: "Hath death so reft me / of my warriors all, God hath forsaken Dietrich, / ah me, a wretched wight! Sometime a lofty monarch / I was, high throned in wealth and might." 2320 "How might it ever happen?" / Dietrich spake again, "That so worthy heroes / here should all be slain By the battle-weary / strangers thus beset? Ill fortune me hath chosen, / else death had surely spared them yet. 2321 "Since that fate not further / to me would respite give, Then tell me, of the strangers / doth any longer live?" Answered Master Hildebrand: / "God wot, never one Save Hagen, and beside him / Gunther lofty king alone." 2322 "Alack, O faithful Wolfhart, / must I thy death now mourn, Soon have I cause to rue me / that ever I was born. Siegstab and Wolfwein / and eke Wolfbrand! Who now shall be my helpers / in the Amelungen land? 2323 "Helfrich, thane full valiant, / and is he likewise slain? For Gerbart and Wichart / when shall I cease to plain? Of all my life's rejoicing / is this the latest day. Alack that die for sorrow / never yet a mortal may!" THIRTY-NINTH ADVENTURE How Gunther and Hagen and Kriemhild were Slain 2324 Himself did then Sir Dietrich / his armor take in hand, To don the which did help him / Master Hildebrand. The doughty chieftain meanwhile / must make so loud complain That from high palace casement / oft came back the sound again. 2325 Natheless his proper humor / soon he did regain, And armed full in anger / stood the worthy thane; A shield all wrought full firmly / took he straight in hand, And forth they strode together, / he and Master Hildebrand. 2326 Spake then of Tronje Hagen: / "Lo, where doth hither wend In wrath his way Sir Dietrich. / 'Tis plain he doth intend On us to wreak sore vengeance / for harm befallen here. To-day be full decided / who may the prize for valor bear! 2327 "Let ne'er of Bern Sir Dietrich / hold him so high of might Nor deem his arm so doughty / and terrible in fight That, will he wreak his anger / on us for sorest scathe,"-- Such were the words of Hagen, / --"I dare not well withstand his wrath." 2328 Upon these words defiant / left Dietrich Hildebrand, And to the warriors hither / came where both did stand Without before the palace, / and leaning respite found. His shield well proved in battle / Sir Dietrich lowered to the ground. 2329 Addressed to them Sir Dietrich / these words of sorrowing: "Wherefore hast thou such evil, / Gunther mighty king, Wrought 'gainst me a stranger? / What had I done to thee, Of my every comfort / in such manner reft to be? 2330 "Seemed then not sufficient / the havoc unto you When from us the hero / Ruediger ye slew, That now from me ye've taken / my warriors one and all? Through me did so great sorrow / ne'er to you good knights befall. 2331 "Of your own selves bethink you / and what the scathe ye bore, The death of your companions / and all your travail sore, If not your hearts, good warriors, / thereat do heavy grow. That Ruediger hath fallen, / --ah me! how fills my heart with woe! 2332 "In all this world to any / more sorrow ne'er befell, Yet have ye minded little / my loss and yours as well. Whate'er I most rejoiced in / beneath your hands lies slain; Yea, for my kinsmen fallen / never may I cease to plain." 2333 "No guilt lies here upon us," / Hagen in answer spake. "Unto this hall hither / your knights their way did take, With goodly train of warriors / full armed for the fight. Meseemeth that the story / hath not been told to thee aright." 2334 "What shall I else believe in? / To me told Hildebrand How, when the knights that serve me / of Amelungenland Did beg the corse of Ruediger / to give them from the hall, Nought offered ye but mockings / unto the valiant warriors all." 2335 Then spake the King of Rhineland: / "Ruediger to bear away Came they in company hither; / whose corse to them deny I bade, despiting Etzel, / nor with aught malice more, Whereupon did Wolfhart / begin to rage thereat full sore." 2336 Then spake of Bern the hero: / "'Twas fated so to be. Yet Gunther, noble monarch, / by thy kingly courtesy Amends make for the sorrow / thou here on me hast wrought, That so thy knightly honor / still unsullied be in aught. 2337 "Then yield to me as hostage / thyself and eke thy man; So will I surely hinder, / as with best might I can, That any here in Hunland / harm unto thee shall do: Henceforward shalt thou find me / ever well disposed and true." 2338 "God in heaven forfend it," / Hagen spake again, "That unto thee should yield them / ever warriors twain Who in their strength reliant / all armed before thee stand, And yet 'fore foes defiant / may freely swing a blade in hand." 2339 "So shall ye not," spake Dietrich, / "proffered peace forswear, Gunther and Hagen. / Misfortune such I bear At both your hands, 'tis certain / ye did but do aright, Would ye for so great sorrow / now my heart in full requite. 2340 "I give you my sure promise / and pledge thereto my hand That I will bear you escort / home unto your land; With honors fit I'll lead you, / thereon my life I set, And for your sake sore evil / suffered at your hands forget." 2341 "Ask thou such thing no longer," / Hagen then replied. "For us 'twere little fitting / the tale be bruited wide, That twain of doughty warriors / did yield them 'neath thy hand. Beside thee is none other / now but only Hildebrand." 2342 Then answered Master Hildebrand: / "The hour may come, God wot, Sir Hagen, when thus lightly / disdain it thou shalt not If any man such offer / of peace shall make to thee. Welcome might now my master's / reconciliation be." 2343 "I'd take in sooth his friendship," / Hagen gave reply, "Ere that I so basely / forth from a hall would fly. As thou hast done but lately, / O Master Hildebrand. I weened with greater valor / couldst thou 'fore a foeman stand." 2344 Thereto gave answer Hildebrand: / "From thee reproach like that? Who was then on shield so idle / 'fore the Waskenstein that sat, The while that Spanish Walter / friend after friend laid low? Such valor thou in plenty / hast in thine own self to show." 2345 Outspake then Sir Dietrich: / "Ill fits it warriors bold That they one another / like old wives should scold. Thee forbid I, Hildebrand, / aught to parley more. Ah me, most sad misfortune / weigheth on my heart full sore. 2346 "Let me hear, Sir Hagen," / Dietrich further spake, "What boast ye doughty warriors / did there together make, When that ye saw me hither / come with sword in hand? Thought ye then not singly / me in combat to withstand?" 2347 "In sooth denieth no one," / bold Sir Hagen spake, "That of the same with sword-blow / I would trial make, An but the sword of Niblung / burst not within my hand. Yea, scorn I that to yield us / thus haughtily thou mak'st demand." 2348 When Dietrich now perceived / how Hagen raged amain, Raise his shield full quickly / did the doughty thane. As quick upon him Hagen / adown the perron sprang, And the trusty sword of Niblung / full loud on Dietrich's armor rang. 2349 Then knew full well Sir Dietrich / that the warrior keen Savage was of humor, / and best himself to screen Sought of Bern the hero / from many a murderous blow, Whereby the valiant Hagen / straightway came he well to know. 2350 Eke fear he had of Balmung, / a strong and trusty blade. Each blow meanwhile Sir Dietrich / with cunning art repaid, Till that he dealt to Hagen / a wound both deep and long, Whereat give o'er the struggle / must the valiant knight and strong. 2351 Bethought him then Sir Dietrich: / "Through toil thy strength has fled, And little honor had I / shouldst thou lie before me dead. So will I yet make trial / if I may not subdue Thee unto me as hostage." / Light task 'twas not the same to do. 2352 His shield down cast he from him / and with what strength he found About the knight of Tronje / fast his arms he wound. In such wise was subdued / by him the doughty knight; Gunther the noble monarch / did weep to see his sorry plight. 2353 Bind Hagen then did Dietrich, / and led him where did stand Kriemhild the royal lady, / and gave into her hand Of all the bravest warrior / that ever weapon bore. After her mickle sorrow / had she merry heart once more. 2354 For joy before Sir Dietrich / bent royal Etzel's wife: "Blessed be thou ever / in heart while lasteth life. Through thee is now forgotten / all my dire need; An death do not prevent me, / from me shall ever be thy meed." 2355 Then spake to her Sir Dietrich, / "Take not his life away, High and royal lady, / for full will he repay Thee for the mickle evil / on thee have wrought his hands. Be it not his misfortune / that bound before thee here he stands." 2356 Then bade she forth lead Hagen / to dungeon keep near by, Wherein he lay fast bolted / and hid from every eye. Gunther, the noble monarch, / with loudest voice did say: "The knight of Bern who wrongs me, / whither hath he fled away?" 2357 Meanwhile back towards him / the doughty Dietrich came, And found the royal Gunther / a knight of worthy name. Eke he might bide longer / but down to meet him sprang, And soon with angry clamor / their swords before the palace rang. 2358 How famed soe'er Sir Dietrich / and great the name he bore, With wrath was filled King Gunther, / and eke did rage full sore At thought of grievous sorrow / suffered at his hand: Still tell they as high wonder / how Dietrich might his blows withstand. 2359 In store of doughty valor / each did nothing lack. From palace and from tower / the din of blows came back As on well-fastened helmets / the lusty swords came down, And royal Gunther's valor / in the fight full clear was shown. 2360 The knight of Bern yet tamed him / as Hagen erst befell, And oozing through his armor / the blood was seen to swell From cut of sharpest weapon / in Dietrich's arm that swung. Right worthily King Gunther / had borne him after labors long. 2361 Bound was then the monarch / by Sir Dietrich's hand, Albeit bonds should suffer / ne'er king of any land. But deemed he, if King Gunther / and Hagen yet were free, Secure might never any / from their searching vengeance be. 2362 When in such manner Dietrich / the king secure had bound By the hand he led him / where Kriemhild he found. At sight of his misfortune / did sorrow from her flee: Quoth she: "Welcome Gunther / from out the land of Burgundy." 2363 He spake: "Then might I thank thee, / sister of high degree, When that some whit more gracious / might thy greeting be. So angry art thou minded / ever yet, O queen, Full spare shall be thy greeting / to Hagen and to me, I ween." 2364 Then spake of Bern the hero: / "Ne'er till now, O queen, Given o'er as hostage / have knights so worthy been, As I, O lofty lady, / in these have given to thee: I pray thee higher evils / to spare them now for sake of me." 2365 She vowed to do it gladly. / Then forth Sir Dietrich went With weeping eyes to see there / such knights' imprisonment. In grimmest ways thereafter / wreaked vengeance Etzel's wife: Beneath her hand those chosen / warriors twain must end their life. 2366 She let them lie asunder / the less at ease to be, Nor did each the other / thenceforward ever see Till that unto Hagen / her brother's head she bore. In sooth did Kriemhild vengeance / wreak upon the twain full sore. 2367 Forth where she should find Hagen / the queen her way did take, And in right angry manner / she to the warrior spake: "An thou wilt but restore me / that thou hast ta'en from me, So may'st thou come yet living / home to the land of Burgundy." 2368 Answered thereto grim Hagen: / "'Twere well thy breath to save, Full high and royal lady. / Sworn by my troth I have That I the hoard will tell not; / the while that yet doth live Of my masters any, / the treasure unto none I'll give." 2369 "Then ended be the story," / the noble lady spake. She bade them from her brother / straightway his life to take. His head they struck from off him, / which by the hair she bore Unto the thane of Tronje. / Thereat did grieve the knight full sore. 2370 When that he in horror / his master's head had seen, Cried the doughty warrior / unto Kriemhild the queen: "Now is thy heart's desire / at length accomplished. And eke hath all befallen / as my foreboding heart hath said. 2371 "Dead lieth now the noble / king of Burgundy, Also youthful Giselher / and Sir Gernot eke doth he. The treasure no one knoweth / but God and me alone, Nor e'er by thee, she-devil, / shall its hiding-place be known." 2372 Quoth she: "But ill requital / hast thou made to me. Yet mine the sword of Siegfried / now henceforth shall be, The which when last I saw him, / my loved husband bore, In whom on me such sorrow / through guilt of thine doth weigh full sore." 2373 She drew it from the scabbard, / nor might he say her nay, Though thought she from the warrior / his life to take away. With both hands high she raised it / and off his head struck she, Whereat did grieve King Etzel / full sore the sorry sight to see. 2374 "To arms!" cried then the monarch: / "here lieth foully slain Beneath the hand of woman / of all the doughtiest thane That e'er was seen in battle / or ever good shield bore! Though foeman howsoever, / yet grieveth this my heart full sore." 2375 Quoth then the aged Hildebrand: / "Reap no gain she shall, That thus she dared to slay him. / Whate'er to me befall, And though myself in direst / need through him have been, By me shall be avenged / the death of Tronje's knight full keen." 2376 In wrathful mood then Hildebrand / unto Kriemhild sprung, And 'gainst the queen full swiftly / his massy blade he swung. Aloud she then in terror / 'fore Hildebrand did wail, Yet that she shrieked so loudly, / to save her what might that avail? 2377 So all those warriors fated / by hand of death lay strewn, And e'en the queen full lofty / in pieces eke was hewn. Dietrich and royal Etzel / at length to weep began, And grievously they mourned / kinsmen slain and many a man. 2378 Who late stood high in honor / now in death lay low, And fate of all the people / weeping was and woe. To mourning now the monarch's / festal tide had passed, As falls that joy to sorrow / turneth ever at the last. 2379 Nor can I tell you further / what later did befall, But that good knights and ladies / saw ye mourning all, And many a noble squire, / for friends in death laid low. Here hath the story ending, / --that is the Nibelungen woe.