91
 
 POPULAR EPICS 
 
 MIDDLE AGES.
 
 MIDDLE AGES 
 
 NORSE-GERMAN AND CARLOVINGIAN 
 CYCLES. 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN MALCOLM LUDLOW. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 Jtottinm mtir 
 MACMILLAN AND CO. 
 1865.
 
 Cambrihgt : 
 
 PRINTED BY JONATHAN PALMER, SIDNEY STREET.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 SOME years ago, on the first appearance of the 
 " Idylls of the King," I undertook to read the 
 volume with a class at the Working Men's College, 
 and to preface the reading by some account of 
 those epics of chivalry of which the ' Idylls' are 
 the latest and most precious outgrowth. I was 
 acquainted with the Nibelungenlied, and knew its 
 relation to the Edda; was tolerably familiar with 
 both the German and the French of the twelfth 
 or thirteenth centuries ; knew something of the 
 ' Chanson de Roland,' and one or two of the 
 Carlovingian poems earliest edited in the mis- 
 named "Romans des douze Pairs," as well as of 
 the " Tristans ;" had read the Mabinogion and Sir 
 Thomas Mallory. In promising a general sketch, 
 I quite expected, I must confess, to find the whole 
 thing ready done to my hand, so that I should 
 have only to condense, and to refer my hearers for
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 further details to one or more standard works 
 treating ex professo of the subject. To my sur- 
 prise however, on referring to such authorities as 
 Warton, Ellis, Ritson, Weber, De la Rue and 
 others, I found nothing that suited my purpose : 
 masses of antiquarian and bibliographical disqui- 
 sition, nothing complete, nothing clear, nothing 
 which I could feel to be sufficient. So I had to 
 set to work at first hand, and make up my mind 
 for myself. 
 
 The time was short before me when I ventured 
 upon this rash undertaking, and I soon found 
 myself surrounded with such a mass of material 
 as I could not hope to master before my readings 
 began. When they were over however, I could 
 not help feeling the wish to complete what I had 
 attempted, to put into shape what I had rough- 
 hewn. The ' Song of Roland,' which I now studied 
 for the first time in the original, fully repaid the 
 pains I bestowed upon it. I conceived the idea of 
 a general work on those popular epics of the 
 middle ages, which have done so much at bottom 
 to fashion the modern mind. Friends urged me to 
 carry the plan out ; a publisher was taken with it.
 
 PREFACE. Vll 
 
 The first, but very likely the last instalment of 
 the work is now offered to the reader. I dare not 
 say that it has not often palled upon me in the 
 doing, and that amidst the terrible realities of the 
 last few years, the mock prowess of imaginary or 
 mythicized personages has not been often a weari- 
 ness to flesh and spirit alike. But a work of this 
 description acquires as it were a momentum of its 
 own as it proceeds ; the more one does, the less 
 one likes to throw away what one has done ; so 
 that in short, so far as it has gone, here it is. 
 
 It would indeed require, for its completion, a 
 volume on the Arthurian cycle ; and a supple- 
 mentary one which should embrace (according to 
 my view) the lesser cycles of the Cid and the 
 Crusades, of the Theological epics, the Beast- 
 epics, and finally, by way of appendix, the Clas- 
 sico-chivalrous epics, such as those on the Siege 
 of Troy, Alexander the Great, &c. But the last- 
 named poems I believe to have never been really 
 popular epics in the true sense of the term, and the 
 same observation applies to the Arthurian cycle 
 generally, a fact which makes me the less loth to 
 leave this part of my original purpose, for the present
 
 Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 at least, unfulfilled. Without in the least contest- 
 ing either the antiquity or the originally popular 
 character of much of the material which has been 
 woven into the last-named cycle, I think it must be 
 confessed that in its development it is the latest 
 of the three great cycles, and courtly rather than 
 popular, and that in no instance does any whole 
 poem belonging to it rise to the height of a 
 genuine epic. Nor can this be wondered at, since 
 it does not appeal, if I may so speak, to the epical 
 passions of mankind, patriotism, religious zeal, 
 love, hatred, revenge, in their singleness and in 
 their breadth, but only to the sentiments and to 
 the fancy. We can only make Arthur epical by 
 making him more and more unreal; the only 
 patriotism he appeals to is a microscopic Welsh 
 or Breton patriotism; no religious fervour can be 
 kindled in his favour by making him a Christian 
 hero against certain Paynim Saxons, long con- 
 verted into good Catholics by the time the first 
 minstrel sang of him, in any but a Kymric dia- 
 lect. The real centres of interest in the Arthurian 
 cycle are two essentially unpopular ones, the 
 wire-drawn double adulteries of Lancelot with
 
 PREFACE. ix 
 
 Guinevere and of Tristan with Isolt (to say 
 nothing of the ugly tales of Arthur's own birth 
 and of Mordred's); very fit themes for courtly 
 pruriency and sentimentalism, very poor and dull 
 ones for the healthy popular mind. Indeed it may 
 be said that the only truly epical element in the 
 Arthurian cycle is the Quest of the Holy Grail ; 
 but that both comes too late, and is essentially too 
 false, ever to develop itself into a true popular 
 epic.* Caring myself less for the Arthurian cycle 
 than for either of the others, I rejoice at the same 
 time to think that it has been more thoroughly 
 studied than any, so that whatever pains I might 
 have bestowed upon it will be the less missed. 
 
 Many will indeed find fault with me for de- 
 voting so much space to works so well known as 
 the Nibelungenlied, or even as the Gudrun, re- 
 cently given to the public in an English form by 
 Miss Letherbrow. A little reflection will however 
 shew, I think, that the Nibelungenlied is the real 
 standard of comparison for the whole Norse-Ger- 
 
 * I do not indeed mean to say that some of the German poems 
 of the cycle have not a really epical character, but it is then purely 
 individual. They may be epical romances, they are not epics.
 
 x PREFACE. 
 
 man cycle, and that a full abstract of it was 
 absolutely needed on that account. I will add 
 indeed that, well known as the work may be to 
 many amongst us, I have found by experience that 
 a man may have passed through school and college 
 with the utmost distinction, and be a writer in the 
 most dreaded of weekly journals, without having 
 ever read a line of it. As respects Miss Lether- 
 brow's work again, I can only say that these 
 volumes were wholly finished and in the pub- 
 lisher's hands before hers appeared ; and whilst 
 her interesting " Introduction" may be usefully 
 referred to as a sketch of early Norse-German 
 literature, I have borrowed nothing from it but 
 a note or two ; whilst the liberties she has taken 
 with the conduct of the poem are such that I have 
 not been able, as I hoped, to shorten my own 
 abstract of it by reference to her work. 
 
 On the other hand, it is perhaps necessary to 
 remind the reader that my purpose has been to 
 give a notion of the cycles of popular epic in the 
 middle ages, not of popular middle age epics 
 generally. Hence any epic or fragment of epic 
 that stands quite detached, does not enter into my
 
 PREFACE. XI 
 
 plan. Had it been otherwise, I should have had 
 to assign a substantive place and value to the 
 Jutish epic " Beowulf" for instance, to the fragment 
 on the battle of Finnesburh, &c., instead of dealing 
 with Beowulf and other Anglo-Saxon fragments 
 simply in relation to the Norse-German cycle. It 
 seems undoubtedly true that these remains of 
 Anglo-Saxon literature are among the earliest, if 
 not the very earliest samples of popular middle 
 age epic which have been preserved to us. But 
 nothing clusters round them, nothing grows from 
 them ; they are rootless alike and fruitless. Nor 
 have they, I venture to think, any such distinctive 
 character and worth as to claim consideration on 
 their own account in a work like this, which lays 
 no claim to be an exhaustive one ; whilst as monu- 
 ments of the language of our Anglo-Saxon fore- 
 fathers they have already enjoyed, and must con- 
 tinue to enjoy, a full meed of attention in this 
 country. 
 
 Again, the reader must bear always in mind 
 that it is the cycles of epic which I have en- 
 deavoured to exhibit, not the cycles of legend. 
 When the epic degenerates into the mere fanciful
 
 xii PREFACE. 
 
 romance, still more when the language of the latter 
 sinks into prose, I have no further concern with it. 
 Those who wish to trace the noble old songs into 
 their lowest stages of prosaic degradation, I must 
 refer to Dunlop's "History of Fiction" or such like 
 works. For myself I must confess that with the 
 prose romances of chivalry I have but little pa- 
 tience, and could heartily wish they had all re- 
 mained in the ashes of Don Quijote's fireplace, from 
 whence even Sir Thomas Mallory would never 
 have deserved to escape without a singeing. 
 
 I must indeed conclude by saying that I have 
 no pretensions to bibliographic or other learning ; 
 that I write, if not for the many to whom such 
 a subject is scarcely capable of commending itself 
 now-a-days, yet for all who may be ignorant of 
 that subject, and not for the few who know all 
 about it. To these last I have nothing to tell ; 
 though I may say that I have consulted more 
 books in reference to my purpose than I have 
 thought it useful to the reader to refer to, either 
 in notes, or in one of those bibliographical lists 
 d VAllemande or a la Buckle, which, unless they 
 embody the results of the exhaustive patience and
 
 PREFACE. xiii 
 
 almost unerring acumen of a Von Savigny, seem to 
 me generally worth little more than the paper they 
 blacken. On the other hand, as I believe I have 
 never borrowed a fact or an opinion without ac- 
 knowledgment, whatever critical conclusions I have 
 put forth without such acknowledgment must be 
 considered as arrived at by independent research 
 or reasoning, and where coincident with those of 
 others may perhaps add something to their weight. 
 And if any should ask what purpose the book is 
 likely to serve, I answer That our fellow-creatures 
 distant from us in time appear to me as deserving 
 of our sympathy as those distant from us in space, 
 and that, in an age which is ready to read any 
 book of travels among Feejee Islanders and South 
 African Damaras, a journey back into the eleventh, 
 twelfth, or thirteenth century of mediaeval Europe 
 should not be an altogether unwelcome one. Nay 
 more, as we should probably wish our descend- 
 ants some five or six hundred years hence to take 
 some interest in what we now think and feel, as 
 we should be inclined to deem it beforehand no 
 unprofitable task for them to make, themselves 
 acquainted with the various leading works of our
 
 XIV PREFACE. 
 
 day, those on which the mind of nineteenth century 
 Europe will have especially fed,- so, I venture to 
 think, should we in turn feel some interest in what 
 the men of five or six hundred years ago thought 
 and felt, in the legends and the poems which fed 
 their minds. Perhaps we shall find something to 
 learn from them. Perhaps their rough and artless, 
 and often cumbrous verse may have something to 
 teach ours, so cunning and delicate. Perhaps, if 
 we look closely into it, we may discover that the 
 substance of poetry is there, of which we have too 
 often kept only the garment. Perhaps a single 
 scene from the ' Nibelungenlied' or the ' Song of 
 Roland' may prove to be worth more than a 
 third or fourth edition of most nineteenth century 
 volumes of poems. 
 
 One word more. Though I am solely respon- 
 sible for the work and for its faults, I should be 
 ungrateful not to acknowledge the valuable in- 
 formation and suggestions which I have received 
 from my friend Professor V. A. Huber of Werni- 
 gerode, to whom I would have dedicated these 
 volumes, had I deemed them less unworthy of his 
 learned name.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 I. Some words on the Growth of Legend . . 3 
 
 II. The Great Cycles of Middle Age Romance . 17 
 
 PART II. 
 
 I. The Norse-German Cycle and its Sources . . 29 
 
 II. Traces of the Norse-German Cycle in the Anglo- 
 Saxon . . . . -38 
 
 III. Walthar of Aquitain . . . -45 
 
 IV. Edda Legends of Sigurd, Gudrun, and Atla . 64 
 V. The Lay of Hildebrand (Hildebrant's Lied) . 98 
 
 VI. The Lay and Lament of the Niblungs ('Nibelun- 
 
 genlied' and ' Klage') . . . 105 
 
 VII. Biterolf : The Dietrich Legends . . .184 
 
 VIII. Gudrun ...... 193 
 
 IX. The Book of Heroes (Heldenbuch) : The Heroic 
 
 Poems ..... 240 
 
 X. The Book of Heroes : The Romantic Poems . 259
 
 xvi CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 XI. Close of the Norse-German Cycle ; The ' Horned 
 
 Siegfried' ; The Danish Ballads . . 306 
 
 XII. The Lombard Sub-Cycle : King Rother . . 317 
 
 PART III. 
 
 XIII. The French Chansons de Geste . . . -345 
 
 XIV. The Growth of Carlovingian Legend . -352 
 XV. The Story of Roncevaux .... 357 
 
 XVI. The "Song of Roland" . . . .362 
 
 APPENDIX (The Chronicle of Turpin) . . 423
 
 PAKT I. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 SOME WORDS ON THE GROWTH OF LEGEND. 
 
 MANY ponderous tomes of commentary have been 
 compiled on the subject of the legends of the 
 middle ages, and of the popular epics and so-called 
 romances of chivalry into which they eventually 
 shaped themselves. Whence came they ? From 
 the far East ? from the far West ? from the far 
 North ? Each hypothesis has had its passionate 
 votaries. They have been by turns Bardic or Runic, 
 Arabic, Teutonic, Aryan. Not less various have 
 been the points of view from which the character 
 of the legends themselves, apart from their origin, 
 has been considered. They have been priceless 
 relics of shattered civilizations ; they have been 
 ignorant forgeries of a later age. They have re- 
 counted the deeds of strictly historical personages ; 
 they have been purely mythical embodiments of 
 religious dogmas, or of nature's mysteries. They 
 have been the creations of the freest, boldest
 
 4 ON THE GROWTH OF LEGEND. 
 
 poetical fancy ; they have been the traditional ex- 
 pression of a strict and secret lore. Pehaps the 
 learned volumes in which each theory is set forth 
 have never carried entire conviction but to those 
 minds which, by the accidents of birth, education, 
 personal investigation, were predisposed to be con- 
 vinced by them. Probably no impartial man ever 
 rose from the perusal of any, howsoever wearisome 
 in its fanaticism, without feeling that some truth 
 lay at the bottom of the theory it set forth. 
 
 The precise filiation of each particular legend is 
 no doubt matter of purely antiquarian research. 
 The modifications which it underwent fall often 
 within the actual domain of history. But the life, 
 growth, power of the legend lie altogether outside 
 of either antiquarian or historical learning. They 
 belong to another sphere, which is that of the 
 simple man and of the wayfarer, as much as of the 
 student. The observation of the ordinary facts of 
 human nature will, in reality, tell us more about 
 those legends than all the volumes of all the 
 libraries. 
 
 The babe is scarcely born, so to speak, when 
 the power of measured sound asserts itself over it. 
 Not more instinctively does its yet sightless eye 
 turn towards the light, than does the mother or the 
 nurse use song to hush and soothe it. Peculiar
 
 ON THE GROWTH OF LEGEND. 5 
 
 melodies are those of the nursery ; confined in 
 range, monotonous, repetitive. Too high a note, 
 too various a measure, too bold a modulation, will 
 rouse the child, sometimes with cries, when already 
 half lulled to slumber. Months go by, and the 
 mystery of language begins to unfold itself before 
 him. Strange then is the literature which is first 
 presented to him. Mixed or not with music, the 
 nursery rhymes of all countries offer precisely the 
 same characteristics. They are language so far, 
 that they consist in great measure of words strung 
 together in some grammatical construction. There 
 may be subject, and verb, and predicate. But the 
 result is often either simple no-meaning, or pal- 
 pable absurdity ; if not in each single sentence, 
 yet at least in the chain of sentences of which 
 the rhyme is composed. 
 
 But the child's intellect is growing, and the out- 
 ward sequency of lines in the nursery rhyme, its 
 "short swallow-flights," to use Mr. Tennyson's 
 expression, of meaning, are begetting the craving 
 for a truer sequency, for a more intelligible use of 
 language. "Tell me a 'tory," becomes now the 
 favourite request of the future man or woman. 
 Most of us know how keen is the appetite thus 
 engendered, how it "grows by what it feeds on." 
 The aliment which it seeks varies according to age
 
 6 ON THE GROWTH OF LEGEND. 
 
 and temperament. At first it is generally satisfied 
 with mere marvels, including under that name all 
 that transcends the slender experience or know- 
 ledge of the little questioner. But the growth of 
 human emotion soon craves for a different food ; 
 stories must now turn upon persons rather than 
 upon things. For a long time novelty seems 
 scarcely an ingredient in the listener's pleasure. 
 The same tales will be asked for over and over 
 again, seemingly until his mind becomes absolutely 
 saturated with them. Any curtailment is resented ; 
 variation somewhat impatiently borne ; but every 
 additional detail is received with the greatest thank- 
 fulness. Meanwhile the moral sense comes in, and 
 makes higher demands. The boy asks for tales of 
 battle, of the wit that braves danger, of the courage 
 that bears it down, of strength exerted in the de- 
 fence of weakness, for the overcoming of injustice. 
 The girl takes rather a painful delight in tales of 
 suffering innocence finally vindicated or avenged. 
 
 With the quickening of the intellect a remark- 
 able stage is often, but not always, entered upon, 
 As the child's large beliefs shrink gradually by 
 longer converse with realities, as giants and fairies, 
 ogres and gnomes, drop out of the circle of his 
 possible future acquaintances, a relish for mystery 
 and the unravelling of mystery often takes the place
 
 ON THE GROWTH OF LEGEND. 7 
 
 of the past craving for marvels. The lowest form 
 of this feeling is seen in the delight in riddles, 
 charades, puzzles of all kinds ; then it shows itself 
 in the practice or invention of secret freemasonries 
 of childish friendship, school languages, finger lan- 
 guages, cyphers, symbols of all kinds, to set the 
 supposed curiosity of the profane world at defiance ; 
 sometimes in strange attraction towards all mys- 
 teries or pretended mysteries of history or society, 
 from Eleusis to the nearest lodge of Druids or 
 Foresters ; sometimes in a passion for allegory, 
 making the Fairy Queen or even Rasselas the 
 most favourite sources of intellectual pleasure 
 alas ! and perhaps models for imitation. About 
 this time perhaps, also, what may be called the 
 genealogical instinct appears, though it often crops 
 out much earlier. Intense is the interest taken 
 by the child in the family ; he will listen for hours 
 as you trace up the stock, or as he learns how and 
 where his father and mother's life has been spent, 
 and that of their fathers before them ; the visit 
 of the most distant cousin is expected as an event 
 of the gravest importance. 
 
 By this period probably the boy or girl is near 
 to that debateable age, between childhood and 
 youth, when vague presentiments of future man- 
 hood or womanhood mix already strangely with
 
 8 ON THE GROWTH OF LEGEND. 
 
 all the childishness of the actual child. The genea- 
 logical instinct itself is already an earnest of the 
 change. For strange it is, but true, that the social 
 brings forth the individual, that the discovery of 
 his position as a member of a family, and of the 
 depths of meaning of that relation, is precisely that 
 which reveals to the child his true personality, as 
 a creature having to do and feel and suffer that 
 which none other can do and feel and suffer for 
 him, having, as it were, folded within himself a new 
 family life which seeks to be developed. It is part 
 of this new-felt individuality that the child is pro- 
 bably now his or her own best story-teller. All 
 the past hungers of the fancy may often remain ; 
 the craving for adventure, for wonders, even of the 
 most fantastic description ; the craving for pathos, 
 conjuring up scenes of torture and even death, 
 often the most dreadful ; the craving for moral 
 excellence, often toppling over into the falsest 
 sentimentalism. But a new thread runs through 
 all these various feelings. The hero or heroine is 
 a strange being ; the young story-weaver's self at 
 once and yet a creature far higher, nobler than 
 that self, it may be a quite distinct, even his- 
 torical personage, into which that self is projected. 
 And by the side of that hero or heroine stands 
 a creature of the other sex, sometimes a trans-
 
 ON THE GROWTH OF LEGEND. 9 
 
 figured person or merely name, sometimes a pure 
 ideal ; the pair, sometimes united, sometimes 
 parted, but emulous of each other's excellence, 
 labours, sufferings, death. These dreams often far 
 precede the very earliest motions of any sexual 
 instinct properly so called ; though generally coin- 
 cident with physical development, they are often 
 quite unconnected with it ; the day-dreams of youth 
 or maiden in their teens are as prose to them, wild 
 poetry as are these to the realities of after-life. 
 
 At an altogether varying period comes in the 
 religious sentiment ; yet perhaps most often about 
 simultaneously with those first love-dreams above 
 mentioned ; sometimes indeed replacing them al- 
 together ; at other times blending with them. 
 But whenever it appears its influence is always 
 most powerful. Religious fervour spurs the youth- 
 ful imagination in its quests of adventure ; religious 
 persecution adds pathos to its tales of suffering ; 
 religious martyrdom perhaps, in its most secret 
 and cherished fancies, crowns the hero or heroine's 
 glory. 
 
 As is the child, so is the child-race ; the history 
 of the fancy's development in the one applies 
 equally to the other. There is no race probably 
 so utterly brutal that some traces of music, in the 
 shape generally of a monotonous chant, cannot
 
 IO ON THE GROWTH OF LEGEND. 
 
 be found among it. Listen to the words mixed 
 with such ; they are generally of the most meaning- 
 less or incoherent character, exactly answering to 
 our nursery rhymes. Soon appears, however, the 
 actual tale, saga or legend, as we variously term 
 it in reference to the race ; still utterly uncouth, 
 full of marvels for the most part alike purposeless 
 and incredible. But the human interest mixes 
 with it before long, if not from the first. Human 
 prowess is seen as being itself a marvel ; the great 
 deeds of the warrior, bandit, wanderer, become 
 inexhaustible themes for song and story ; heroes 
 work portents or overcome them ; certain ideals 
 grow up, of commanding power perhaps for the 
 manlier races, of suffering innocence for the more 
 feminine ; the Northern Skald calls the ravens 
 to witness of the strong arm of his Berserk champion ; 
 the Persian story-teller makes his hearers weep 
 over the martyrdom of the Im&ms. 
 
 And now perhaps, especially if the tribe or 
 race be divided into groups of different degrees 
 of intellectual development, dawns the true myth- 
 ical instinct. Reckon not as such the child-man's 
 first impersonations of material forces, which are 
 but the shapings of his wonder at the marvels of 
 the creation round him. Has your child never 
 asked you whether the tree or the flower was alive ?
 
 ON THE GROWTH OF LEGEND. II 
 
 have you never found it hard to persuade him 
 that the watch was not ? It is the overpowering 
 sense of an ocean of life ever welling and brimming 
 around them, which they cannot trace to its source, 
 that makes the child-races place that source in 
 whatever seems to shew forth a life of its own, and 
 ascribe a person to the thunder and to the storm- 
 wave, to the stream and to the fountain. The 
 marvel is the same for all, there is a common 
 recognition of it ; there is no mystery yet between 
 man and man. But soon, by contemplation per- 
 haps of the marvel, some men see, or think they 
 see, deeper into it than others, think perhaps that 
 it is no marvel at all, or merely the cloak of a 
 greater one. And so the marvel turns into the mys- 
 tery. The same words mean different things to 
 different men ; a secret lore becomes the privilege 
 of a few, of a caste, is jealously guarded by them, 
 traditionally handed down. These become subtle 
 to discover hidden meanings, subtle to hide them 
 again in words. It is their boast to tell tales to 
 the vulgar, to the purport of which the vulgar 
 shall have no clue ; to clothe their learning or their 
 doctrine in shapes of individual personages, some- 
 times traditionary heroes of the tribe, sometimes 
 creations of the fancy. In doing so, they are 
 caught in their own inventions ; they give out
 
 12 ON THE GROWTH OF LEGEND. 
 
 myths for facts, they come to empty facts of their 
 reality ; the flesh-and-blood creatures whom they 
 have selected as vehicles of their mystic lore fade 
 away into absolute abstractions. 
 
 But whilst the wise men, call them priests, 
 bards, what you will, are spinning away their 
 brains into cobwebs, the race itself has been grow- 
 ing to adolescence ; it has come to look beyond 
 the wild raid by sea or land, the mighty thrust or 
 buffet in the fight. The sense of its own indi- 
 viduality, continuity, has come upon it. Pride of 
 lineage has sprung up ; genealogy has become a 
 study ; in Arab tent or Afghan hut, the mere 
 beadroll of family names is music to the listener's 
 ear. And in proportion as the feeling of hereditary 
 existence is accompanied by a somewhat more 
 settled state of life, by nobler aims, manners more 
 refined, the love-tale gradually emerges into pro- 
 minence. Throw in about this period a religious 
 faith more or less ennobling in itself, and which 
 shall not favour one sex at the expense of the 
 other, and you will have ere long the whole rich 
 luxuriance of chivalrous romance. A branch of 
 composition, let us remember, however deeply 
 tinged in our Europe with strictly Christian in- 
 fluences, yet perfectly recognizable in the East, 
 wherever the female sex has not been unduly de-
 
 ON THE GROWTH OF LEGEND. 13 
 
 pressed ; as, for instance, among the Rajpoots of 
 Hindostan, or even amongst races newly converted 
 to Mahomedanism from a faith in which that sex 
 has enjoyed its true dignity, as may be seen in 
 Firdausi. But where the religious faith is strong, 
 as was Christianity in our own middle ages, its 
 reaction upon the romance is most marked. In her 
 severer forms, faith would fain destroy it altogether ; 
 in her subtler, she endeavours to supply its place 
 by fantastic tales of devotion, by all the religious 
 phantasmagoria of the Golden Legend or the Lives 
 of the Saints ; failing this again, she strives to hug 
 it with deadly-loving arms, to penetrate into its 
 vitals, live with its life, grow with its growth, till she 
 has overcome and absorbed it. Such is the history 
 of all romantic-religious fiction, from the twelfth 
 century to the so-called religious novels of our 
 days, and among these, from Dunallan to the 
 latest Anglo-catholic novelet. But apart from this 
 conscious deliberate action of the faith on the ro- 
 mance, which is seldom satisfactory either in its 
 handywork or in its results, there is an unconscious 
 involuntary one which is pregnant with noble ef- 
 fect ; which instead of lowering the faith to the 
 romance is always drawing the romance upward 
 toward the faith, and working out in its heroes
 
 14 ON THE GROWTH OF LEGEND. 
 
 whatever of righteousness, gentleness, purity, self- 
 sacrifice is contained in that faith itself. 
 
 Such then is the story, I take it, of middle age 
 epic and romance, with its outgrowths to the pre- 
 sent day. At the first, a core of real history, as 
 connected with the deeds of some traditionary hero, 
 mixed up with whatever portents and marvels come 
 within the range of credibility for the race and 
 age ; the tale swelling as it is told, with as easy 
 credence and unconcealed delight on the listener's 
 part as any child's tale does amongst ourselves at 
 this day ; connecting itself with genealogies and 
 family traditions ; seized upon perhaps by bards 
 and mystics as a vehicle or storehouse of secret 
 lore, charged by them with new meanings, carried 
 into new and wilful developments to serve their pur- 
 pose ; flowering out into romances of love with the 
 adolescence of the race ; twisted aside by monkish 
 ingenuity into ecclesiastical or semi-ecclesiastical 
 channels, but by penetration of a nobler faith reach- 
 ing to ideals of chivalrous purity and magnanimity. 
 True it is, that by the side of its noblest aspira- 
 tions you will find threads, or rather gutters of 
 unutterable filth. True it is, that its pathos runs 
 into sentimentalism, its purity into affectation, 
 exactly in the same manner, dear reader, as those 
 stories with which you used to lull yourself to sleep
 
 ON THE GROWTH OF LEGEND. 15 
 
 when a child. Yet we must not judge aims by 
 deeds, but deeds by aims ; and there must have 
 been a strange power in those old legends to have 
 fastened the hold they have upon the mind of 
 Europe, so that three centuries after the burning 
 of Don Quijote's library, the worn-out tale of 
 Arthur and Merlin, of Lancelot and Guinevere, shall 
 still supply the theme, in matter-of-fact, calico- 
 printing, steam -ploughing, Enfield- rifle -shooting 
 England, for new masterpieces to a great poet. 
 
 It is observable of these poems, at least of 
 almost all the earlier ones, that they have come 
 down to us without the names of their authors, 
 in copies perpetually varying amongst themselves. 
 For they were essentially sung poetry, sung long 
 before written, varied no doubt perpetually, now 
 and then by the first composer himself, and still 
 more by those who only repeated his songs at 
 second-hand, according to the tenacity of their 
 memory, the circumstances under which they had 
 to sing, the inspiration of the moment. Travelling 
 from castle to castle, the minstrel always sought 
 as far as possible to interweave local traditions and 
 reminiscences into his song ; but the glory of his 
 host of to-night would be the shame of him of to- 
 morrow ; the conquering race would ill- brook an 
 eulogy on the virtues of the conquered ; the con-
 
 1 6 ON THE GROWTH OF LEGEND. 
 
 quered would take small pleasure in the tale of 
 their defeats. Hence (amongst other causes) that 
 strange variety of text, which I have mentioned as 
 characterizing almost all of these poems. Another 
 similar feature, which however more particularly 
 marks the French ones, consists in frequent re- 
 petitions of the same incident or speech, with slight 
 modifications. Between texts thus varying not 
 only amongst themselves, but in themselves, it is 
 often far from easy to discern the true thread of 
 the narrative ; and I crave pardon beforehand if in 
 the following pages I should prove to have failed 
 sometimes in seizing it
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE GREAT CYCLES OF MIDDLE AGE ROMANCE. 
 
 FRIEDRICH SCHLEGEL, at the outset of the eighth 
 Lecture of his course on "Ancient and Modern 
 Literature," enumerates three great cycles of fables 
 and histories as having served for subjects to the 
 poems of chivalry in the middle ages. The first 
 cycle, " formed of the Sagas of the Gothic, Frank- 
 ish, and Burgundian heroes, from the time of the 
 migration of the (barbarian) races," supplies the 
 contents of the German ' Nibelungenlied' and ' Hel- 
 denbuch,' but comprises also a large portion of the 
 heroic legend of the earlier ' Edda,' with one or two 
 later Sagas besides. This cycle, as he truly ob- 
 serves, has at best a groundwork of history, and 
 links itself closely with the old heathenish past and 
 its legends of the gods. The second cycle is the 
 French one ; its chief subject is Charlemagne, and 
 more particularly his war against the Arabs, the 
 fight at Roncevaux, and the glory of the great
 
 1 8 THE GREAT CYCLES OF 
 
 heroes united round him. The third cycle is the 
 British one, that of King Arthur and his Round 
 Table. 
 
 This classification, true in the main, is perhaps 
 not quite exhaustive. The Spanish 'Chronicle of 
 the Cid/ which indeed Schlegel presently mentions, 
 although possessing much in common with the 
 Carlovingian cycle, forms yet, with its later develop- 
 ments in the ' Romancero', a distinct though sub- 
 ordinate Spanish cycle. It has congeners, moreover, 
 in other crusade poems properly so-called, although 
 these may not have developed into a complete cycle. 
 Whilst quite beyond these three quasi-historical 
 cycles lie two others of pure fancy ; one, the theo- 
 logical, turning chiefly on visions of hell or heaven, 
 or both, such as the legends of the purgatory of 
 St. Brandan or St. Patrick, and which culminates 
 in Dante's masterpiece : the other, the satirical, 
 mainly growing out of the Flemish Beast-epic, as 
 it may be called, which Goethe in our own days 
 has modernized in his ' Reineke Fuchs.' 
 
 Of these various cycles, the only one with which 
 we may be said to be tolerably familiar is the 
 British one, and, through Dante alone, the religious. 
 Still, though the Norse-German cycle is far from 
 being thoroughly known or sufficiently appreciated 
 in this country, yet what knowledge of it exists
 
 MIDDLE AGE ROMANCE. 19 
 
 is true knowledge, and presents the legend in all its 
 genuine features of pathos and of horror. The 
 second or French cycle labours under the mis- 
 fortune of being very well misknown, through its 
 later and caricatured developments, such as they 
 are presented to us by the Italian poets, and more 
 especially in Ariosto's ' Orlando Furioso.' Schlegel 
 himself was entirely misled on this subject by the 
 paucity of information then existing upon it, and 
 builds up a theory in respect to it which is wholly 
 unsupported by facts. The Carlovingian tales, he 
 says, " soon stray very far away from truth ; the 
 real hero was changed into an idle ruler, similar to 
 those of the south. This may have partly arisen 
 from the fact that the Normans, who especially 
 cultivated this kind of poetry, represented Charles 
 to themselves, amid all the glory which surrounded 
 his name, in similar relations to those in which 
 they found the inactive monarchs of old France on 
 his throne in their time." Now with one signal 
 exception indeed, the ' Song of Roland,' it is re- 
 markable that none of the leading French epics 
 appear to be of Norman composition ;* and the 
 
 * "It maybe remarked in conclusion that these Carlovingian 
 romances appear never to have enjoyed a great popularity in 
 
 mediaeval England, or even among the Normans.' We 
 
 believe that, with the exception of the Chanson de Roland, there 
 is no known MS. of any of the Chansons de Geste written in the
 
 2O THE GREAT CYCLES OF 
 
 excepted one, to the confusion of Schlegel's theory, 
 is full of the most perfect reverence for the name 
 of the great emperor. Moreover, a recent writer 
 in the 'Edinburgh Review' expresses what I believe 
 to be now the more generally received opinion, in 
 saying that when we examine carefully the early 
 French epic poetry, we can hardly doubt " that it 
 is that very poetry of the old Prankish race which 
 Charlemagne sought to preserve in its original 
 form, but of which he became not the preserver 
 but the hero, after it had gone through a great 
 metamorphosis in style and form."* Thus the 
 subjects of the early epics would belong not to 
 the Carlovingian, but to the Merovingian era : and 
 if we could suppose the form of the poems to have 
 come to us unchanged, the rois faineants whom 
 they may exhibit would not be, as Schlegel imagines, 
 the later Carlovingians, but those late Merovingians 
 whom the energetic house of Pepin of Heristal 
 supplanted.f But no one has ventured to assign 
 
 Norman or Anglo-Norman dialect." Edinb. Review, No. 234, 
 for April 1862. The latter assertion is however incorrect, as wit- 
 ness M. Michel's edition of 'Charlemagne,' hereafter to be noticed, 
 besides various other MSS., generally however of a late date. 
 
 * Edinburgh Review, U.S. 
 
 t There is one poem indeed of the cycle which somewhat answers 
 to Schlegel's hypothesis, ' Raoul de Cambrai,' in which figures the 
 late Carlovingian Louis d' Outremer.
 
 MIDDLE AGE ROMANCE. 21 
 
 to the oldest of these poems which we now possess 
 a date earlier, as respects its actual form, than the 
 Capetian era, whilst that one, as before observed, is 
 remarkable for its tone of loyalty. Thus, if indeed 
 there soon sets in through these popular epics 
 a current of evident dislike towards the royal name, 
 and a tendency to depreciate the royal personages, 
 viewed in connexion with the facts of the time, 
 the probabilities are that this represents feelings 
 not of contempt for lazy Carlovingians of the past, 
 but on the contrary, of distrust towards stirring 
 Capetians of the present, in whom the feudal chiefs 
 of France had hoped to find merely a change of 
 puppets, and were more and more obliged to recog- 
 nize a new race of masters. A large portion of 
 the cycle, which must yet bear the title of Carlo- 
 vingian, since the name of Charlemagne lies at its 
 centre, consists thus of poems representing the 
 protest of feudalism against royalty, and is occupied 
 with the deeds of heroes real or mythical (Gerard 
 of Roussillon for instance) who wage war against 
 the Carlovingian monarchs. As royalty grows 
 stronger, such glorifications of rebellious heroes are 
 in turn proscribed ; but it is then too late to recal 
 the old reverence for Charlemagne itself; and so 
 the cycle assumes the purely fantastic, more or less 
 grotesque character which has been pointed out.
 
 22 THE GREAT CYCLES OF 
 
 But this modification in its political spirit is not 
 the only one which the popular epic undergoes. 
 Both in the Norse-German and in the Carlovingian 
 cycles, a vast difference is visible between the 
 earlier and the later groups, in respect to the 
 relation between the sexes. In the earlier groups 
 love holds but small room ; deeds of warfare are 
 the poet's main subject ; women may figure promi- 
 nently in his work, but rather as fierce heroines 
 or faithful wives than as beloved mistresses. In 
 the latter group sentiment begins to prevail above 
 action, and with sentiment, fancy. The subjects 
 are drawn from the land of romance rather than 
 from the field of tradition ; from foreign rather 
 than from domestic sources ; a certain ideal has 
 sprung up, which can no longer well consort even 
 with current local traditions. Siegfried and Dietrich, 
 Charlemagne the great emperor and his peerless 
 nephew Roland, glide into purely legendary shapes ; 
 then a yet more absolute monarch of fancy, King 
 Arthur of the Round Table, takes his place. To 
 this, the third cycle enumerated by Schlegel, be- 
 long poems of wonderful beauty and pathos or 
 even thoughtful depth, such as two of the French 
 ' Tristans', or the German ' Parcival ;' but in life- 
 like vigour and freshness they are far from equal- 
 ling those of the former cycles.
 
 MIDDLE AGE ROMANCE. 23 
 
 We have not indeed anywhere a continuous 
 series of samples illustrating the growth of the 
 epic. But the short poems of the older Edda, 
 as compared with the Nibelungenlied and its 
 cognate epics, shew clearly how songs devoted 
 to some particular event or adventure, ballads as 
 we now improperly call them, form the foundation 
 of the epical structure ; how these are first merely 
 collected together, like mere cairns of heaped-up 
 stones, then bound together in one continuous 
 narration, like those same stones cemented into 
 an actual wall or other work of masonry. The 
 French cycle shews more especially how the actual 
 epic again expands and develops itself; either by 
 outward accretion, so to speak, in the shape of con- 
 tinuation or preliminary narration ; or by inward in- 
 crease, as each successive age intercalates new scenes 
 and descriptions, or touches up the old ones with new 
 details. Again, a period is visible everywhere, when, 
 the interest of the tale having outgrown the lan- 
 guage in which it was first told, the poem has to 
 be modernized. The French Carlovingian epics of 
 the thirteenth century, for instance, are to a great 
 extent attempts at renovating the older ones. 
 
 Meanwhile Prose, Poetry's limpfoot but steady- 
 paced sister, has gradually been coming up with 
 the latter. Even while engaged in changing her
 
 24 THE GREAT CYCLES OF 
 
 costume, Prose pounces upon Poetry as she stands 
 halted, and proceeds to put her own livery upon 
 her. From the thirteenth to the fifteenth century 
 in France, from a somewhat later period in Ger- 
 many and England, the older poems are sedulously 
 ' done into prose' ; some only survive in that form. 
 The novel, in the shape of the so-called "romance of 
 chivalry," has killed the poem ; and killed it so utterly 
 and entirely, that when in the sixteenth century the 
 immortal chronicler of the hidalgo of La Mancha 
 proceeds to burn the huge pile which by this time 
 has grown up of prose romantic fiction, he shows 
 no symptom of having ever suspected the presence 
 of the lovely corpse that lay smothered beneath. 
 What charms indeed even the prose romance may 
 yet retain, many of us well know. Grown men 
 will tell you how the purchase, when in their teens, 
 of some stray volume of Sir Thomas Mallory at 
 a London bookstall was to them as the opening 
 of a new world, that same Sir Thomas Mallory 
 whose crude farrago of incongruous materials is, 
 to those who only approach it after some acquaint- 
 ance with the originals, one of the most unbearable 
 of travesties. 
 
 But Prose never wholly kills Poetry. Every 
 really popular epic-cycle leaves traces behind it 
 in popular verse. As the epic grew up out of
 
 MIDDLE AGE ROMANCE. 25 
 
 songs, so it resolves itself into songs again. Look 
 behind the dreary brick or rather mud wall of 
 prose fiction, and you will find the separate stones 
 of the shattered epic temple still discoverable, often 
 carved into new and shapely forms. The Norse- 
 German epic inspires more than one beautiful 
 Danish ballad ; the Spanish ' Romancero' is full of 
 Carlovingian and Arthurian subjects ; the popular 
 songs of Brittany retain many a trace of the 
 Arthurian legend.
 
 PAET II. 
 
 THE NORSE-GERMAN CYCLE.
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE NORSE-GERMAN CYCLE AND ITS SOURCES. 
 
 THE Norse-German Cycle, although, as I have 
 said, the earliest of the three leading ones, yet 
 extends in point of time over a greater space than 
 any of the others ; since, although its earliest works 
 appear assignable to the eighth century, we find 
 poems belonging to it, with considerable traces of 
 the epical character in them, composed as late as 
 the fourteenth century, or even (if we reckon the 
 ' Horned Siegfried') the fifteenth ; whilst at the end 
 of the fifteenth century a large portion of the cycle 
 is collected together, and, without destroying the 
 individual character of the poems composing it, 
 shortened (a solitary instance, so far as I am aware, 
 in the annals of middle-age epics), in the ' Hel- 
 denbuch' or ' Book of Heroes' of Kaspar von der 
 Roen (1472) ; and again, the legends which com- 
 pose it in their later form, appear to have flowered 
 up locally into a new poetical life in the Danish
 
 30 THE NORSE-GERMAN CYCLE 
 
 ballads of the thirteenth and following centuries. 
 Hence it has happened that, without putting on, 
 like the Carlovingian cycle, the garb of Italian 
 travesty, the Norse-German one has actually lived 
 on to the present day in popular use through some 
 of its more legendary developments ; since in the 
 ballad form it extends still from Iceland, the 
 Feroe Islands, Sweden and Denmark, throughout 
 Germany. 
 
 On the other hand, if we measure the influence 
 of the cycle by space instead of time, we shall find 
 that that influence has been almost strictly con- 
 fined, within the limits of its title, to the Teutonic 
 race, in its two great branches, the German or Teu- 
 ton-proper, and the Gothic. At the period when the 
 cycle grew up indeed, that race spread nearly over 
 the whole of Gaul, as well as Northern Italy, to 
 say nothing of Spain, and until the establishment 
 of the second Hunnic or Hungarian kingdom in 
 the tenth century, must have remained scattered in 
 much greater numbers than it is now to the East of 
 the present German frontier. But from thence to 
 the present time, the sphere of the Norse-German 
 cycle seems to have gone on narrowing rather than 
 increasing, as have done the other cycles ; and it is 
 only within the present century that it has begun 
 to react upon other races, or even upon so note-
 
 AND ITS SOURCES. 31 
 
 worthy an offshoot of the Teutonic race itself as 
 our own. 
 
 Weber's ' Illustrations of Northern Antiquities' 
 (Edinburgh, 1814) was, I believe, the first work 
 which introduced the Norse-German cycle of epics 
 to the English reader ; although one of the poems 
 of the Edda which belong to it had already been 
 translated by the Hon. Mr. Herbert, afterwards 
 Dean of Manchester. Weber's work is however 
 so utterly uncritical, that I fear it has only tended 
 to mislead later writers, such as Mr. Carlyle. It 
 never exhibits any choice of texts ; makes no dis- 
 tinctions of comparative antiquity, but leads up 
 from the more modern to the more ancient in a 
 manner most bewildering to the reader ; and shews 
 almost as little sense of poetical merit as of historic 
 character. I have ventured on this account to ab- 
 stract in the following pages some of the poems 
 already abstracted by Weber, believing that the 
 difference of texts, and of position in the series, 
 will give a value to such matter even for those who 
 may happen to possess already Weber's indeed not 
 very commonly found work. 
 
 With the religious element in the cycle I shall 
 not deal, but refer the reader to Grimm's ' Deutsche 
 Mythologie.' No part of the epic value of the story, 
 so far as I know, turns upon the connexion of the
 
 32 THE NORSE-GERMAN CYCLE. 
 
 hero Sigurd with any of the gods of the Norse 
 Pantheon ; he is exhibited to us as a Christian in 
 the later forms of the legend. The main core of 
 historic fact and interest in these, which constitute 
 the German, and more properly speaking epical 
 portion of the cycle, lies, I take it, in the tradition 
 of the great struggle between the Hunnic and 
 Teuto-Gothic races in the fourth and fifth centuries, 
 including the overthrow of Attila by Aetius, at the 
 head of the Goths and Franks, near Chalons, toward 
 450. But the Hun conquest is made contemporary 
 with the next latest great name of Gothic tradition, 
 Theodoric, king of Italy, later than Attila by half 
 a century (born 442, defeats Odoacer 4^8^ dies 526), 
 himself probably confounded with the West-Goth 
 Theodoric, Attila's contemporary, who perished at 
 the battle of Chalons ; and the story is mixed up 
 with tales out of the Norse legend of Sigurd, who 
 may either have been a man or a myth. 
 
 Viewed indeed either historically or artistically, 
 the cycle seems to represent the fusion of four, 
 which in reference to their ultimate amalgamation 
 may be termed sub-cyles. Two of these may be 
 looked upon as Gothic, but representing two far- 
 distant realms of Gothic settlement : one seems 
 distinctly West-German ; the last is of doubtful 
 origin. First comes the North-Gothic or proper
 
 AND ITS SOURCES. 33 
 
 Norse one of Sigurd (the Sifrit-Siegfried of the 
 Germans), whose name is indeed connected in the 
 later legend with the Netherlands, but who seems 
 to me a true Norse hero. This sub-cycle, however, 
 blends almost at once with the German one of 
 Gunnar (Gunther) and Haugn (Hagen), known, it 
 would seem, originally (though the term comes 
 to be very variously applied) as the Niflungs 
 (Nibelungen). The origin of this seems distinctly 
 to be on the Rhine. According to an early poem 
 of the sub-cycle, preserved to us in monkish Latin 
 ('Walthar of Aquitain'), these Niflungs or Niblungs 
 were Franks of the Rhine. Even in the Norse 
 Edda, the connexion of the two intermingled cycles 
 with this tract of country is shewn by the magic 
 sleep of one of its heroines, Brynhild, among the 
 Franks ; and there have not wanted writers who 
 have sought to identify her and her lover Sigurd 
 with the ' Brunehaut' and ' Sigebert' of Merovin- 
 gian history. Without insisting on the weight of 
 local tradition, it may be added that the legendary 
 seat of Gunther's realm (the city of Worms and its 
 neighbourhood) is still full of recollections of Sieg- 
 fried and his bride Chriemhild or Kriemhilt. 
 
 In its simplest shape, the legend of these two 
 combined sub-cycles resolves itself into the story 
 of a Norse sea-rover marrying the sister of a chief 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 THE NORSE-GERMAN CYCLE 
 
 whose wife he had himself courted in former days, 
 and perishing through the resentment of the latter. 
 So viewed, there is nothing which need be unhis- 
 torical about its origin. If we suppose the sea- 
 rover to have sailed or rowed up the Rhine, he 
 would in the fifth century have met on its banks 
 the Riparian Franks. Coming thither from the 
 Netherlands, we may understand how the Sifrit of 
 later days came to be treated as a prince of that 
 country. If latterly the Frankish chiefs his mur- 
 derers were treated as Burgundians, it would be 
 because the name of Gunnar-Gunther was chiefly 
 recollected as the royal name of that tribe. 
 
 The sub-cycles of Sigurd-Sifrit and Gunnar- 
 Gunther, then, interweave themselves with that of 
 Atla-Etzel (i. e. Attila) whether Gothic or German, 
 it would be difficult to say. In one form of the 
 legend, the point of contact, which is very probably 
 historical, lies in the well-known practice of the 
 Hun conqueror, of retaining near him the sons of 
 tributary chiefs as hostages, and in the escape from 
 his court of Hagen, a relative or dependent of the 
 Frankish king, Gunther. Although this connexion 
 never entirely disappears from the legend, a more 
 prominent one is supplied in other versions by the 
 marriage of Sigurd-Sifrit's widow with the king of 
 the Huns himself, followed by the destruction of
 
 AND ITS SOURCES. 35 
 
 her family at his court. But this event, and the 
 character of the conqueror, are quite differently 
 treated in the Norse and German forms of the 
 legend. In the former, Atla is still the ferocious 
 Attila of history ; the Niblungs perish through his 
 treachery ; and their sister here called Gudrun 
 remains devotedly attached to her brothers, even 
 to the extent of destroying her own children by 
 Atla. In the German version, on the contrary, it 
 is through the treachery of Kriemhilt their sister 
 (the name itself being in the North applied to 
 Gudrun's mother) and in revenge for Sifrit her first 
 husband's death, that the Niblungs, or Burgund- 
 ians, come to their death ; whilst Etzel-Attila be- 
 comes the most kindly and good-tempered of 
 sovereigns. How this marked discrepancy should 
 have arisen, I cannot venture to pronounce ; but 
 there are historical indications that the tale of 
 Kriemhilt's treachery to her brothers was current 
 at an early period, and Hungarian tradition alleges 
 that Attila had a German wife of that name. 
 
 Lastly comes the sub-cycle, which must have 
 been originally South-Gothic, of Dietrich-Theodoric 
 of Bern-Verona ; a personage kept indeed in po- 
 litical subordination to Etzel-Attila, but represented 
 as the main-stay of his power, and who in the later 
 German legend is exhibited as finally triumphing
 
 36 THE NORSE-GERMAN CYCLE 
 
 over the Niblungs-Burgundians, whilst in its latest 
 forms he is even exalted above the semi-mythic 
 Sifrit himself. Strange to say, this sub-cycle, 
 apparently the latest in its origin, is among the 
 earliest of which a genuine fragment is preserved, 
 in the ' Lay of Hildebrand', ascribed by Gervinus 
 to the eighth century (though I shall hereafter give 
 reasons for doubting its extreme antiquity), and 
 which, whilst preserving the memory of the enmity 
 between Theodoric and Odoacer, shews the former 
 already as subordinate to the king of the Huns. 
 It is no less remarkable, as shewing the wide ex- 
 tension of the sub-cycle even at an early period, 
 that the fragment should have been found so far 
 north as Fulda, in the heart of what was once Aus- 
 trasian France. Latterly indeed Dietrich appears 
 to have grown up into the typical German, or more 
 properly Suabian hero of the age of chivalry, and 
 finds his way as such both into the Danish ballads 
 and the later prose sagas of the north ; retaining 
 always something of that sluggish character which 
 is characteristic of the Suabian, perhaps himself 
 the most fitting type of the whole German people. 
 The mingling of these various sub-cycles, seem- 
 ingly incongruous, when running together in the 
 great German epic of the ' Nibelungenlied' or ' Lay 
 of the Niblungs,' towards the end of the twelfth or
 
 AND ITS SOURCES. 37 
 
 beginning of the thirteenth century, forms a legend 
 of great dramatic power, in which the passion of 
 love, though recognized, assumes yet a singularly 
 fearful and in part repulsive shape. Besides two or 
 three poems of somewhat doubtful position in the 
 series, the ' Book of Heroes,' stretching over another 
 century or more, exhibits various personages or 
 portions of the legend in the garb of the (poetic) 
 romance of chivalry properly so-called.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 TRACES OF THE NORSE-GERMAN CYCLE IN THE 
 ANGLO-SAXON. 
 
 THE most complete collection of testimonies re- 
 lating to the Norse-German cycle is to be found in 
 Grimm's 'Deutsche Heldensage' (Gottingen, 1829), 
 which I have largely made use of in the following 
 pages ; though even this may be usefully supple- 
 mented by M. Amedee Thierry's admirable ' His- 
 toire d'Attila et de ses successeurs, jusqu' a 1'etab- 
 lissement des Hongrois en Europe' (Paris, 1856). 
 Suffice it to say that the fact of the existence of a 
 class of minstrels who sang the great deeds of war- 
 riors is testified to by Priscus at the court of the 
 historic Attila in the middle of the fifth century, 
 by Jornandes among the Goths in the middle of the 
 sixth, whilst in the ninth Eginhard records the 
 writing down of such " barbarous and most ancient 
 songs" by order of Charlemagne.* Again, the 
 
 * Barbara et antiquissima carmina, quibus veterum regum actus 
 et bella canebantur. Eginh, Vita Karoli M. , c. 29.
 
 THE N.-G. CYCLE AND THE ANGLO-SAXONS. 39 
 
 ' Chronicle of Quedlinburg,' written at the end of 
 the tenth and beginning of the eleventh centuries, 
 speaks of king Theodoric, popularly called "Thi- 
 deric de Berne," of whom the country folk sang in 
 former days (de quo cantabant rustici olim). Thus 
 we have historic evidence, 1st, That in the fifth and 
 sixth centuries there was among the Huns and 
 Goths a mass of popular heroic poetry ; 2nd, That 
 in the ninth there were extant some " most ancient 
 songs" in the "barbarous" tongues ; 3rd, That some 
 time before the end of the tenth "Thideric de 
 Berne" was a popular hero.* 
 
 Perhaps the earliest poetical trace of the legend 
 afterwards connected with Sigurd, is found in our 
 Anglo-Saxon ' Beowulf, a poem deemed at latest 
 of the ninth century, but which is itself in all pro- 
 bability, as Mr. Thorpe has conjectured,f a mere 
 Anglo-Saxon and Christianized paraphrase of an 
 old heathen saga, composed in the South-west of 
 Sweden, and brought over to England during the 
 sway of her Danish kings or according to Mr. 
 Kemble, with her early Saxon invaders.f But 
 
 * Grimm indeed is so sceptical as to the historical character of 
 the personages in the legend, that he believes the mythical Dietrich 
 to be older than the real Theodoric, and will not even admit the 
 identity of Atla and Etzel. 
 
 t See Preface to his edition. J. H. Parker, 1855.' 
 J T have not thought it necessary to abstract Beowulf, although 
 the oldest popular middle age epic extant, both as being probably
 
 4O TRACES OF THE NORSE-GERMAN CYCLE 
 
 what the later legend relates of Sigurd, Beowulf 
 attributes to his father Sigmund. A thane at king 
 Hrothgar's court, whose memory is stored with songs 
 and old sagas, tells of " Sigemund" the Wcel- 
 sing, his battles and wide journeyings, his wars and 
 fights, which, it is said, the children of men did not 
 well know of, except Fitela his nephew, who was 
 with him. "To Sigemund sprang after death's 
 day glory no little since battle-hardy he the 
 worm slew the hoard's guardian. He under a 
 hoar stone an etheling's bairn alone ventured 
 the bold deed ; Fitela was not with him, yet it 
 chanced him that his sword went through the 
 wondrous worm, that in the wall stood the noble 
 iron ; the drake murdered perished. The unlucky 
 had by daring gained that he the ring-hoard 
 might enjoy at his own pleasure." Of Sigmund 
 it is then said that he was " of wanderers by far 
 the greatest throughout the human race ;" but that 
 after thriving at first he was at last betrayed to the 
 Jutes, who are treated as his enemies. This con- 
 flict with a "worm" or dragon is apparently that 
 fight with the dragon Fafnir, which holds so con- 
 spicuous a place in the Edda among the exploits 
 of Sigurd; the title of "Wcelsing" or "son of 
 
 the best known among us, and as having really but slight poetic 
 value in itself; besides that (except in the passages alluded to) it 
 stands almost entirely detached from all the great poetic cycles.
 
 IN THE ANGLO-SAXON. 4! 
 
 Wcelse" given to Sigmund, being evidently his and 
 Sigurd's family name of "Volsung," recorded in 
 the Norse ; whilst the " Fitela" of Beowulf is to be 
 recognized in the " Sinfiotli" of the Volsunga saga. 
 Whether therefore we attribute Beowulf to the 
 ninth, or with Mr. Kemble to the fifth century, or 
 with Grimm to the eighth, or perhaps the seventh, 
 we have in it proof that at the period when it was 
 composed, the legend of Sigurd properly so-called 
 had not gained currency. It is clear, however, that 
 Mr. Kemble rated too high the antiquity of the 
 poem when he attributed it to the fifth century. 
 For there seems no reason to doubt that the king 
 Hygelac spoken of in it is the Chochilaic or Cho- 
 hilag of Gregory of Tours, and of the ' Gesta Regum 
 Francoruml a Danish king who invaded Gaul in 
 the days of Theuderic son of Clovis, consequently 
 in the sixth century. But the poem relates the 
 death of Hygelac, his being succeeded by his son 
 Heardred, then of tender age, and Beowulf s as- 
 cending to the throne himself, and dying at a great 
 age after a conflict with a dragon. The story of 
 the poem therefore may be taken to comprise a 
 period of about half a century, which would carry 
 us to the very close of the sixth. But the fabulous 
 details of the poem, such as the dragort-fight with 
 which it concludes, entirely preclude us from as-
 
 42 TRACES OF THE NORSE-GERMAN CYCLE 
 
 signing it to a contemporary, or even to the son of 
 a contemporary, of the hero. The least interval we 
 can allow for its composition will probably be a 
 century. This would bring it down to the end of 
 the seventh or beginning of the eighth century, 
 the latter being apparently the date adopted by 
 the German commentators. And I am inclined to 
 think, from evidence which will be presently con- 
 sidered, that such is its real date. 
 
 A story of Sigmund and his conflict with a 
 treasure -watching dragon was then current in 
 Southern Sweden about the end of the seventh 
 or beginning of the eighth century. But it is ex- 
 pressly stated that Sigmund's deeds were "much 
 unknown ;" that the children of men " well knew 
 not" of his "wide journeyings," "his warfare and 
 his crimes." The presumption is therefore that at 
 this time the legend of Sigmund was a com- 
 paratively new one. The modifications which that 
 legend subsequently underwent must therefore be 
 referred to a period posterior say to 680 or 700. 
 But in addition to the above passage as to Sig- 
 mund, Beowulf speaks also of another personage, 
 prominent in the later development of the cycle, 
 Hama, the Heim or Heime of the Germans, and 
 connects him with Eormenric-Hermanaric, in a 
 manner which serves to throw light upon a poem
 
 IN THE ANGLO-SAXON. 43 
 
 of the Edda, and to bring this in turn in connexion 
 with a passage in the historian Jornandes, as I shall 
 have occasion to shew hereafter. In mentioning 
 moreover the "Wylfingas" or Wolfings, it records 
 the stock of another personage of the legend, 
 Dietrich's chief follower, " Master Hildebrand." 
 
 And now we may observe that some of the 
 names connected with the legend in its subsequent 
 form occur in the so-called ' Scop or Gleeman's 
 Tale.' This is usually printed, and is viewed by 
 Grimm as contemporary with Beowulf, but be- 
 longs evidently I should say (though Mr. Guest in 
 the ' Penny Cyclopaedia' takes a directly opposite 
 view) to a much later date. There is a parade of 
 learning in it, including references to Alexander, 
 Caesar, and the Greeks, the Israelites, the "Ex 
 Syrings" (Assyrians), Hebrews, Egyptians, Medes 
 and Persians, quite foreign to the rough sim- 
 plicity of Beowulf, and belonging apparently to a 
 period subsequent to the diffusion of learning in 
 the vernacular Anglo-Saxon, which may be said 
 to have begun under Alfred. The very earliest 
 period to which it can, I think, be ascribed, is quite 
 the close of the sixth century, since it speaks of 
 JElfwlne (Alboin) king of the Lombards, who died 
 in 573. But, if I am right in my inference from its 
 style of composition, it is rather to be referred to
 
 44 THE N.-G. CYCLE AND THE ANGLO-SAXONS. 
 
 the tenth century. Here then we meet with the 
 name of JEtla. (Attila), who ruled the Huns ; Ha- 
 gena (Hagen), Eormanric (Hermanric), who ruled 
 the Goths, Gifica the Burgundians. The name of 
 " Hama" occurs again, and this time in connexion 
 with that of " Wudga," a personage who under the 
 name of "Wittich" becomes prominent in the later 
 legend, and is constantly associated with " Heime;" 
 it also names "Sifeka," apparently the traitor 
 'Sibeche' of the legend of Dietrich. Again, the 
 poet says he was "with the Burgundians, there 
 I a ring received there me Guthhere gave a 
 welcome present in reward of song that was no 
 sluggish king ;" and he equally celebrates the 
 generosity of Eormanric.* But no legend is con- 
 nected with these personages in the poem. 
 
 From these various indications in the Anglo- 
 Saxon poems it is to be inferred that, at a period 
 which may be reckoned from the seventh to the 
 tenth centuries, various of the personages in the 
 Norse -German cycle were familiarly known to 
 Western minstrels. 
 
 * Of course, if this passage were to be taken literally, it would 
 prove the gleeman to have been a contemporary of the princes re- 
 ferred to. But as he speaks also of "yElfwine" from alleged personal 
 acquaintance, it is impossible to treat any of his statements as 
 genuine. The "Guthhere" he speaks of is however probably the 
 true Burgundian Gunther, not the Frank chief of the same name 
 spoken of in the ' Waltharius. '
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 WALTHAR OF AQUITAIN. 
 
 I SHOULD reckon as probably nearly contemporary 
 with the 'Scop's tale' the curious Latin poem of 
 'Waltharius,' or 'Walter of Aquitain/ which Fauriel 
 ascribes to the eighth or ninth century, Grimm and 
 Schmeller (whose edition of the poem in their ' La- 
 teinische Gedichte des x. und xi. J. H.', Gottingen, 
 1838, is the one I shall refer to) to the tenth; the 
 earliest MS. belonging, according to the German 
 writers, to the beginning of the twelfth century, 
 although they do not consider that any subsisting 
 text is good or old enough to be taken as a stand- 
 ard. The peculiarity of this work is that although 
 epical, it is clearly not itself a popular epic ; it is 
 composed in a learned language, and apparently 
 simply as a literary exercise ;* written by a monk, 
 
 * In one MS. a passage occurs giving " Gerald" as the name of 
 the author, and "bishop Erckambald" as that of the person for 
 whom it was composed. It has been concluded by French writers
 
 46 WALTHAR OF AQUITAIN. 
 
 dedicated to a monk. But it is impossible not to 
 see 1 in it the attempt to Latinize an already ex- 
 isting legend of the vernacular traditions. Though 
 Sigurd-Sifrit is not referred to, three of the leading 
 personages of the Norse-German cycle Attila the 
 king of the Huns, Gunther, Hagen figure pro- 
 minently in it; and the legend is distinctly con- 
 nected with the later ' Nibelungenlied' by repeated 
 allusions to it in the latter. I shall give a short 
 abstract of its contents. 
 
 The empire of the Huns had already lasted for 
 more than a thousand years, when Attila (who in 
 one MS. is already called "Etcilo") invaded the 
 Franks ruled over by Gibicho,* to whom had re- 
 cently been born a son named Gunthar. By the 
 advice of his council, Gibicho determines to pay 
 tribute and give hostages; but his son Gunthar 
 being too young, he sends in his place a noble 
 youth named Hagan, with an immense treasure. 
 The Huns next attack the Burgundians, whose 
 king Herric has an only daughter, the beautiful 
 
 that this "Gerald" was a monk of Fleury on the Loire, and that 
 "Erckambald" was " Archimbald," administrator of the see of 
 Strasburg about 970. Grimm cannot make up his mind about the 
 authorship, but shews sufficiently that Gerald, whoever he was, was 
 not a monk of Fleury. 
 
 * The ' Scop's tale, ' as we have seen, mentions Gifica as ruling 
 over the Burgundians.
 
 WALTHAR OF AQUITAIN. 47 
 
 Hiltgunt (Hildegund). Surprised by the enemy, 
 Herric shuts himself up in Chalons, but calling 
 together all the elders, proposes that since the 
 Franks, who are so much stronger, have yielded, 
 they should do the like, and offer to give his only 
 daughter for hostage. This being done, Attila 
 receives his envoys " mildly, as was his wont," and 
 taking away with him "the fairest gem of her 
 parents," with treasures unnumbered, turns toward 
 the West, where Alphere reigns over the Aqui- 
 tanians, having an only son, Walthar, already af- 
 fianced to Hildegund ; he has in turn to pay tribute 
 and give up his son as a hostage. 
 
 Attila, returning to his capital, shews the utmost 
 kindness to his hostages, has them brought up as 
 his own children, and handing the girl over to the 
 queen, has the boys always in his sight, and causes 
 them to be instructed in all warlike and intellectual 
 arts, till already they surpass all the Huns; the 
 maiden likewise is entrusted with the care of all 
 the treasures, "and there wants but little that she 
 should reign herself." Meanwhile however the 
 news comes of Gibicho's death, and of Gunthar's 
 succeeding to him; on learning which, Hagan 
 makes his escape by night. Warned by his flight, 
 the queen suggests to Attila that he should marry 
 Walthar (who is greatly distinguishing himself at
 
 48 WALTHAR OF AQUITAIN. 
 
 the head of the Huns) to a Hunnish maiden. Wal- 
 thar declares himself unworthy of such an honour, 
 and urges that if married he might neglect his 
 military duties, declaring that nothing is so sweet 
 to him as for ever to be busy in the faithful service 
 of his lord. The king is lulled by his words, which 
 seem ere long confirmed by a signal victory of the 
 army under Walthar's leadership over a revolted 
 people. On his return however, after answering 
 in few words the enquiries of the courtiers, 
 Walthar, going straight to the king's chamber, 
 finds there Hildegund alone, and speaks to her on 
 the subject of their betrothal, hitherto untouched 
 between them. She deems him at first to be 
 merely mocking her. He protests; declares that 
 he is weary of their exile, anxious to escape, and 
 would have fled ere this, but that it grieved him 
 to leave Hildegund alone. ' Let my lord command,' 
 she replies ; ' I am ready for his love to bear evil 
 hap or good.' He then bids her, as she has the 
 care of the treasure, take out for him a helmet, 
 a coat of mail, a breastplate ; fill two chests with 
 Hunnish (money) rings till she can scarce lift either 
 to her bosom, place four pair of sandals (or gaiters) 
 on the top, with fish-hooks ; and let all be ready in 
 a week. He on his part on the seventh day will 
 give a grand feast to the king, his nobles, his chiefs,
 
 WALTHAR OF AQUITAIN. 49 
 
 and all his household, and will endeavour with all 
 his mind to " bury them in drink," till none shall 
 know what happens. Let Hildegund meanwhile 
 spare her wine, scarce quench her thirst, and when 
 all the party are helpless, then they will hasten to 
 westward. 
 
 The feast is given. Walthar presses the wine 
 and food on the guests. When the dishes are 
 cleared and the tables taken away, he hands to the 
 king a splendid carved goblet full of wine, which 
 the king empties at a draught, and orders all to 
 follow his example. Full cups are brought on all 
 sides, and are returned empty. " Hot drunkenness 
 soon rules in all the hall ;" the heroes stagger, and 
 are all fairly floored at last, so that if any one had 
 set fire to the house there would have remained 
 none who could have known the cause. Walthar 
 now calls Hildegund, and takes out of the stable 
 his noble war-horse, which he called ' Lion' for his 
 courage. The two chests are hung on either side, 
 with a small provision of food for the journey; the 
 damsel takes the flowing reins. He puts on him- 
 self his armour; on his left thigh a two-edged 
 sword, a single-edged Hunnish one on his right, 
 the spear in his right hand, the shield in his left ; 
 while with the reins, the maiden holds also a fish- 
 ing-rod. They flee all night ; but during the day
 
 50 WALTHAR OF AQUITAIN. 
 
 they hide in the dark woods ; every breath, every 
 bird makes the maid tremble ; they avoid the vil- 
 lages, the fair cornfields, following by-ways, rounding 
 their course by " unshorn" mountains. Meanwhile 
 the Huns have woke up from their drunken sleep ; 
 the king has asked for Walthar, but he cannot be 
 found ; the queen misses Hildegund, and soon sees 
 that her fears lest Walthar should follow Hagan's 
 example have been realized. The pillar of the 
 empire, she cries, is fallen ; Walthar is gone and 
 Hildegund with him. The king is at first bewil- 
 dered ; anger will not suffer him to speak ; for the 
 whole day he can neither eat nor drink, nor can he 
 sleep at night. On the morrow he offers enormous 
 gifts to any one who will bring him back Walthar 
 bound ; but none dares to venture on such an 
 errand. 
 
 Walthar still pursues his flight, feeding on the 
 birds of the wood, the fishes of the streams, full of 
 respect always for the maiden. On the fourteenth 
 day at even he reaches the Rhine, not far from 
 Worms. To the ferryman he gives in payment 
 fishes which he had previously caught, and still 
 hastens on. On the morning the ferryman goes 
 into the city, and sells the fish to the king's cook, 
 who dresses and sets them before the king. The 
 latter declares that there are no such fishes in
 
 WALTHAR OF AQUITAIN. 51 
 
 France ; who can have brought them ? The ferry- 
 man is summoned, and relates his ferrying over of 
 the armed warrior, and the fair maiden, and the 
 strong war-horse with the two chests. Hagan, who 
 sate at table, joyfully exclaims, ' Congratulate me 
 on the news, it is Walthar my comrade returning 
 from the Huns.' ' Congratulate me,' retorts the 
 king, 'on having lived till now; the Almighty 
 sends me back Gibicho's treasure.' Leaping up, 
 he orders his horse to be brought, and taking with 
 him twelve of his bravest chiefs, besides Hagan, 
 who seeks in vain to dissuade him, he goes in 
 search of the stranger. 
 
 Walthar, journeying from the Rhine, has reached 
 the forest of the Vosges, "wont to resound with 
 hounds and horns." Here, between two hills 
 standing close together, is a pleasant cave, not 
 hollowed out in the earth, but made by the beet- 
 ling of the rocks ; a fit haunt for bloodthirsty rob- 
 bers, carpeted with green grass. Walthar espying 
 it tarries in it to rest ; for since his escape from the 
 Huns he had known no sleep but leaning on his 
 shield, scarcely closing his eyes. Now, putting off 
 his heavy armour, he places his head on the 
 maiden's lap, bidding her look around, and wake 
 him with a gentle touch if she see a black cloud, 
 but not to rouse him suddenly, even should she see
 
 52 WALTHAR OF AQUITAIN. 
 
 a vast troop, since her pure eyes may view from 
 hence afar. So saying, he closed his bright eyes, 
 and enjoyed the longed-for rest. 
 
 But Gunthar had seen his track in the dust, and 
 spurring on his horse, urges his companions on. 
 Hagan warns him that if he had seen Walthar in 
 his fury as often as himself, he would not deem 
 him so easy to despoil. They approach; Hilde- 
 gund perceives a dust-cloud, and gently rouses 
 Walthar, who puts on his armour. When they are 
 near, she deems them to be Huns, and falling at 
 his feet, implores him, as she was not worthy to 
 share his bed, that he will cut her head off with 
 his sword, lest she should belong to any other. 
 " Should I be stained with innocent blood ?" he 
 asks ; " how could my sword destroy my foes, if it 
 spared not now so faithful a friend ? . . . He who 
 brought me oft out of sundry dangers, He can 
 now, believe it, confound here our enemies." Then 
 lifting up his eyes, he exclaims that these are not 
 the Huns, but "Franci nebulones" which the 
 German editors translate " the Niblung Franks"- 
 and recognizing Hagan's helmet, points it out with 
 a laugh to his companion. Going now to the 
 entrance of the encampment he speaks a "proud 
 word," that no Frank shall ever thence returning 
 presume to tell his wife that he has taken ought of
 
 WALTHAR OF AQUITAIN. 53 
 
 the treasure unpunished, then falls to the ground 
 and asks forgiveness for having thus spoken. Ex- 
 amining the newcomers, he declares that he fears 
 no one but Hagan, who knows his mode of war- 
 fare, and is subtle ; should he escape his wiles, then 
 " I am rescued from the fight for thee, Hildegund, 
 my betrothed." 
 
 Hagan now advises a parley, in case Walthar 
 should be ready to give up the treasure without 
 bloodshed. Camelo, prefect of Metz, is sent to 
 him, and asks who he is, and whence and whither 
 going ? On his reply, Camelo summons him to 
 give up his horse, the two chests and the maiden, 
 on which conditions the king will grant him his 
 life. Walthar charges him with folly ; is the king 
 a god, to grant him life ? has he touched him with 
 his hands, drawn him from a prison, twisted his 
 chained hands behind his back ? Yet if he will let 
 him go, he will send him a hundred armlets of red 
 metal. Hagan advises the king to accept the offer ; 
 he had an evil dream last night, of a bear which 
 tore off one of the king's legs in conflict, and put 
 out one of Hagan's own eyes when he came to the 
 king's aid. The king reproaches him with being 
 as great a coward as his father, who never liked 
 battle. Hagan, justly wroth, declares that he will 
 share neither the fight nor the spoils; they have
 
 54 WALTHAR OF AQUITAIN. 
 
 their opponent before them ; he will look on. So 
 saying, he climbs a neighbouring hill, and descend- 
 ing from his horse sits down to look on. 
 
 Walthar's encampment was such that one enemy 
 alone could attack him abreast. It is needless to 
 go into the details of his several conflicts, which 
 are varied with very considerable skill and fancy, 
 but which all end in Walthar's success. The sixth 
 champion he has to meet is Patavrid, sister's son to 
 Hagan, who vainly endeavours to hold him back, 
 whilst Walthar himself as vainly advises him to 
 keep away. After the fall of the seventh, the 
 Franks themselves urge Gunthar to give over the 
 fight ; but he, furious at past ill-success, only urges 
 them to it the more vehemently. The four last 
 make a combined attack, the foremost bearing a 
 huge trident, which the others support from the 
 rear, but are equally unfortunate. At last the king 
 is left alone, and flees to Hagan, beseeching him 
 to come to his aid, asking whether he is not 
 ashamed of leaving unavenged the death of so 
 many kinsmen and friends ? Hagan long resists 
 his solicitations, but is moved at last. It is idle 
 however to attack Walthar in his present strong- 
 hold ; were France to send against him all her 
 horsemen and footmen, he would do to them as to 
 the others. The only method is to tempt him
 
 WALTHAR OF AQUITAIN. 55 
 
 from hence by seeming to depart, and when he is 
 in the open to pursue and attack him. Then the 
 king may fight if he have a mind, for never will 
 Walthar flee from them two ; they must themselves 
 either flee or sharply fight. The king praises his 
 companion's advice, and kisses him. They leave, 
 and select a spot for an ambush, letting their horses 
 go loose. 
 
 Night falls, and Walthar is perplexed as to his 
 proceedings. Shall he remain ? shall he commit 
 himself to the wilderness ? He distrusts Hagan 
 alone, and that kiss of the king's. At last he de- 
 cides upon remaining at least till the morning ; the 
 king shall not say that he fled, like a thief, through 
 the darkness. So after fortifying his encampment 
 against a surprise with bushes, he turns himself to 
 the dead bodies with bitter groans, touches each 
 with his head, and then, prostrating himself towards 
 the east, with his sword bare, he prays thus : " Maker 
 of [all] things, ruling all events, without whose 
 permission and command nought happens, I give 
 Thee thanks, who defendest me from the unjust 
 darts of the hostile crowd and from their insults. 
 And with contrite mind I entreat the gracious 
 Lord, that He whose will is not to destroy 
 the sinner but the sin, may grant me to behold 
 these in the dwellings of heaven." Rising now, he
 
 5 6 WALTHAR OF AQUITAIN. 
 
 binds together the six horses which remained, 
 two having been killed, and king Gunthar having 
 taken three away; then loosens his armour, and 
 lightens of its weight his smoking body. Next, 
 after comforting his sorrowful betrothed with his 
 talk, and refreshing himself with food, he lies down 
 upon his shield, bidding the maiden watch during 
 his first sleep ; reserving to himself the morning 
 watch, which he deems the more dangerous. At 
 his head she watches accordingly, keeping her eyes 
 open with singing; after his first sleep, rising at 
 once, he bids her sleep in turn, and stands leaning 
 upon his spear ; sometimes going round the horses, 
 sometimes approaching his defences to look out. 
 In the morning he spoils the dead of their weapons 
 and accoutrements, leaving them their clothes, but 
 taking their armlets, girdles, helmets, swords, breast- 
 plates. With these he loads four of the horses, 
 calls his betrothed to place her on the fifth, and 
 mounts the sixth himself. Then leaving the in- 
 trenchment alone first, and carefully listening for 
 any sound, he sends forward first the four laden 
 horses, then the maiden, then closes the rear with 
 the horse bearing the two chests. They journey 
 for about a mile, when looking back, Hildegund 
 sees two men riding down a hill towards them, and 
 calls to Walthar to flee. He recognizes the pur-
 
 WALTHAR OF AQUITAIN. 57 
 
 suers. " Vainly," he replies, " shall my right hand 
 have overthrown many a foe ; if honour fails, shame 
 attends my last hour." He deems it better to 
 await the attack than to fly, but does not despair 
 of success. He bids her take the reins of his horse 
 Lion (which bears the gold) and seek refuge in 
 a neighbouring wood, while he ascends the hill to 
 await the foe. 
 
 Meanwhile the king and Hagan are hastening 
 towards him. The former begins from a distance 
 to address him with insults. Walthar vouchsafes 
 no answer, but turns to Hagan, appealing to their 
 old friendship, to the recollection of their childish 
 games : he would have expected that on learning 
 his return Hagan himself would have hastened to 
 greet him, compelled him to accept his hospitality, 
 escorted him peacefully to his father's kingdom. 
 It was Hagan's countenance that made him forget 
 his father, think little of his country. Will he now 
 break the pledged faith ? let him abide by it, and 
 he shall depart rich with Walthar's praise, his shield 
 filled with red gold. Wrathfully Hagan replies: 
 "First thou usest violence, Walthar, then seekest 
 to delude (sopharis). Thyself brakest thy faith, 
 when thou sawest me near, and overthrewest so 
 many of my comrades and even kinsmen Yet 
 I might have borne all else, if one sorrow had been
 
 58 WALTHAR OF AQUITAIN. 
 
 wanting ; for with thy sword hast thou plucked one 
 dear, bright, soft, precious, tender flower There- 
 fore I will take no treasure to make peace ; I will 
 learn if thou alone hast courage in war, I seek at 
 thy hands my nephew's slaughter." 
 
 All three leap from their horses to fight on foot. 
 Hagan begins the conflict by flinging his spear, 
 which Walthar avoids with his shield ; glancing off, 
 it "wounds" the hill, sinking up to the head in the 
 ground. Weakly Gunthar flings an ashwood shaft 
 in turn ; it sticks at the bottom of Walthar's shield, 
 and soon falls to the ground with a shake. Draw- 
 ing their swords, and covering themselves with 
 their shields, the Franks now seek to close in with 
 the Aquitanian, who keeps them at bay with his 
 spear. As their shorter swords cannot reach him, 
 king Gunthar now conceives a "silly" plan, that 
 of recovering his spear, which lay before the hero's 
 feet, and winks to Hagan to go in front. Already 
 had he his hand on the spear, when Walthar per- 
 ceiving the device, whilst he places his foot on the 
 prize, flings Gunthar on his knees, and would have 
 killed him, had not Hagan rushed to his aid and 
 covered with his shield the king, who gets up 
 quivering and quaking (tremens trepidusque). The 
 fight begins again ; Walthar is like a bear held at 
 bay by the dogs ; the hot sun adds to the labour
 
 WALTHAR OF AQUITAIN. 59 
 
 of the struggle. Walthar begins to fear lest by 
 their wiles they may weary and overcome him ; so 
 taking the offensive he springs at Hagan, and with 
 a spear-stroke carries away a portion of his armour, 
 then with a marvellous blow of his bare sword 
 smites off the king's leg as far as the thigh ; Gun- 
 thar falls at his feet on his shield, and with a second 
 blow Walthar is about to despatch him, when 
 Hagan throws himself before him, and the sword 
 falls on his own head. But so well tempered is 
 Hagan's helmet that the "astonished" blade flies 
 in pieces, and its fragments glitter in the air and 
 on the grass. Impatient, he flings away the hilt, 
 though of rich metal and handywork ; Hagan seizes 
 the opportunity to cut off his right hand, fearful to 
 peoples and princes. 
 
 Undismayed, with countenance unfallen, Wal- 
 thar inserts his wounded stump into the shield, and 
 draws with his left the "half-sword" (semispata) 
 girt to his right side. With this he soon has his 
 revenge, striking out Hagan's right eye with a blow 
 which cuts atwain his temple and lips, and strikes 
 out six of his double teeth. But it is the last 
 stroke. Wounds and want of breath make both 
 the great-souled heroes lay down their arms ; Gun- 
 thar's foot, Walthar's hand, Hagan's quivering eye 
 lie on the ground. The two sit, and stanch with
 
 60 WALTHAR OF AQUITAIN. 
 
 flowers the flowing stream of their blood. Alphere's 
 son calls the maiden, who binds up all the wounds. 
 He then bids her bring the wine, and offer it first 
 to Hagan ; a good fighter is he, if he will but abide 
 by his troth ; then let her give to himself, as having 
 borne more than the rest ; last of all let Gunthar 
 drink, a poor warrior among the brave. Hagan 
 declines the first draught ; let the maiden give first 
 to Alphere's son, her husband and lord ; " for I own 
 he is stronger than I." Weary in all their body 
 after their tremendous blows, "thorny" Hagan 
 (evidently a play on the words Hagan, hagdorn, 
 hawthorn) and the Aquitanian joke over their cups. 
 'Friend,' says Hagan, 'when thou huntest the stag, 
 of whose leather mayest thou have gloves without 
 end, I warn thee to fill thy right-hand glove with 
 soft wool, that thou mayest deceive the game with 
 the semblance of a hand. But what sayest thou 
 to the breaking the custom of thy people in girding 
 thy sword on thy right side, and embracing thy 
 wife with thy left arm ?' Walthar retorts, some- 
 what unintelligibly, by telling Hagan he will have 
 to avoid boar's flesh ; that he will distrust the effect 
 of his orders to his servants, and greet the troops 
 of heroes with a side-glance ; in remembrance of 
 their old friendship, he advises him, if he gets home, 
 to make a larded broth of milk and flour, which 
 will both feed and cure him.
 
 WALTHAR OF AQUITAIN. 6l 
 
 So speaking they renew their "bloody bond," 
 place on horseback the king, who is in sore pain ; 
 the Franks return to Worms, Walthar to Aquitain, 
 where he celebrates magnificently his marriage 
 with Hildegund, and, beloved by all, after his 
 father's death rules the people happily for thirty 
 years. "What wars after this, what triumphs he 
 often had, behold my blunted pen refuses to mark. 
 Thou, whosoever readest this, forgive a chirping 
 cricket, weigh not the yet rough voice, but the age, 
 since as yet she hath not yet left the nest for the 
 air. This is the poem of Walthar. Save us, Jesus 
 Christ." 
 
 Nothing is more curious in this poem than the 
 mingled currents of religious and popular feeling. 
 It is difficult to suppose that the personages of the 
 legend were not purely heathen ; yet the vein of 
 Christianity which the writer's profession causes 
 to run through it is of the most genuine and in- 
 teresting character, and, like the probably con- 
 temporary plays of Hrotsvitha, indicates a far truer 
 and wholesomer apprehension of Christian truth 
 than is at all discernible in the works of the 
 following period. Few scenes of epic poetry per- 
 haps are more touching than Walthar praying by 
 the dead bodies of the foes whom he had slain, 
 that he may see them all again in heaven. In-
 
 62 WALTHAR OF AQUITAIN. 
 
 deed, the poem exhibits throughout a far more 
 delicate feeling than any others of the cycle, and 
 shows clearly, like Hrotsvitha's, the vast superiority 
 of monastic culture at this period. Barbarous as 
 is often the diction, yet it testifies to a study of 
 classical models ; centos from Virgil are perpetually 
 brought in. Again, in nothing does the poem ap- 
 pear more remarkable than in the absence of 
 all legendary stage-scenery of dragons, monsters, 
 giants, and the like. There is nothing obviously 
 fabulous about it beyond the bravery and endurance 
 of the heroes, and their capacity for receiving 
 tremendous wounds.* 
 
 * Those who may feel curious about the legend of Walther of 
 Aquitain, may find the farther remains of it indicated in Grimm and 
 Schmeller's work before quoted, p. 101 and foil. The allusions 
 to it in the ' Nibelungenlied' I shall hereafter point out. In a 
 middle-age German poem of 'Biterolf and Dietlieb,' hereafter 
 noticed, Walther is represented describing the magnificence of 
 Attila's court, and how Hagen and Walther received their swords 
 from him ; besides an allusion to their fight on the Rhine. Walther 
 and Hagen appear together in other old German songs. In the 
 Norse ' Vilkina-saga,' the legend of Walther of Vaskastein represents 
 Walther as nephew to Hermanric. Following at first the Latin 
 poem, it diverges from it in representing Walther's fight as having 
 taken place with twelve chiefs sent by Attila after him on his escape. 
 One curious detail of it is that he puts Hogni or Hagen's eye out 
 with the breastbone of a roast boar, which seems to indicate the 
 source of the otherwise unintelligible passage of the Latin poem, 
 where Walther advises Hagan to eschew boar's meat. Again, in 
 the tenth century, the ' Chronicle of Novalesa' a Piedmontese con-
 
 WALTHAR OF AQUITAIN. 63 
 
 Negatively, therefore, the evidence both of the 
 'Scop's tale' and of 'Walthar of Aquitain' tends 
 to show that although Attila, Hagen, and Gunther 
 were personages celebrated in the poetry of the 
 day from the seventh to the ninth centuries, yet 
 the legend which connects them afterwards with 
 Sigurd was not in existence. 
 
 vent near Susa, founded 726 or 750 together with large (but often 
 very incorrect) extracts from the poem above abstracted, gives an 
 account of Walther's retreat to a convent in his old age (Novalesa 
 itself) and of his adventures while there, which will be found in an 
 abridged form in the Appendix to the 2nd volume of the present 
 work, as having apparently served as prototype to a poem of the 
 Carlovingian cycle. In a Polish tale of the thirteenth century occur 
 also the names of Walgerzs and Helgunda, but their flight is from 
 France over the Rhine eastward. In the Norse ' Vilkina Saga', 
 Hagen in found with Attila, to whom Hermanric sends Walthar. 
 There is a later Latin poem of ' Walthar 1 in distichs, also quoted in 
 the ' Novalesian Chronicle', which makes him the terror of the East 
 and the West, and sends him as a conqueror to India. A fragment 
 of the legend in German, belonging to the beginning of the thirteenth 
 century, has also been discovered.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 EDDA LEGENDS OF SIGURD, GUDRUN, AND ATLA. 
 
 THE earliest form of the full-developed legend 
 afterwards embodied in the ' Nibelungenlied' is to 
 be found in the 'Older Edda,' collected by See- 
 mund in the eleventh or twelfth centuries (1056 
 1121), but the poems of which are considered (with 
 some later exceptions) to belong to the eighth or 
 to the beginning of the ninth century. I cannot 
 help thinking that this work has been generally 
 viewed, especially by our German brethren, too 
 much in the light of later times ; that as respects 
 the legends now occupying us, for instance, they 
 have rather read into it their own 'Nibelungen- 
 lied' than taken it at its actual value. Especially 
 do they seem to me to have erred in attributing 
 too much weight to the late prose ' Vilkina-saga', 
 ascribed by Miiller to the end of the fourteenth 
 century, deemed by Grimm at least a hundred 
 years older but anyhow representing, I take it, in
 
 EDDA LEGENDS OF SIGURD, ETC. 65 
 
 the main, a reflex action of the German legend on 
 the Norse, as against the almost purely Norse 
 Edda. As the Edda is avowedly a collection of 
 earlier metrical pieces, all prose arguments, develop- 
 ments, intercalations, must be considered as belong- 
 ing to the collector, or at all events to his age, and 
 cannot therefore be put on the same line as the verse. 
 So, I take it, will it be with the titles, names of 
 personages, &c., where not forming part of the 
 text ; so evidently of the order in which the pieces 
 occur. What alterations the text may have under- 
 gone we cannot for the most part even guess. 
 Gervinus and Grimm may or may not be right in 
 ascribing the Edda, like the ' Lay of Hildebrand,' 
 to the eighth century ; without doubting that many 
 portions of it may substantially belong even to an 
 earlier period, I believe that, taking the text in 
 its present shape, it would be most unwise to 
 assign to it any such antiquity. 
 
 The names of our legend occur already in the 
 mythological poems which occupy the first volume 
 of the collection. In the ' Song of Hundla' (the 
 Huntress), it is said that " the father of peoples" 
 gave "the sword" to Sigmund. In a later stanza, 
 Jormunrec (Hermanric) is spoken of as Sigurd's 
 son-in-law; Sigurd himself as "the grim one who 
 killed Fafnir," " born" (not of Sigmund but) " of
 
 66 EDDA LEGENDS OF 
 
 Vaulsing and of Hiordisa." Mention is made of 
 " Gunnar and Haugn, Giuka's seed, and eke Gu- 
 drun their sister" (names in which we easily recog- 
 nize the ' Gunthar', ' Hagan', and ' Gibicho', of 
 Walthar of Aquitain), as well as of Guttorm, who 
 is stated not to have been of Giuka's blood, but 
 yet to have been brother to both the former. The 
 group of poems relating specially to the legend 
 occurs however among the heroic pieces of the 
 second volume. Some of the first of these, the 
 two songs of ' Helg Hunding-slayer' (Helga Quida 
 Hundingsbana I. and II.) relate to a hero named 
 Helg, son of Sigmund, and to a personage named 
 Haugn ; but the latter does not appear to be the 
 Haugn of the true Sigurd-legends, nor is there 
 anything to identify Sigmund. The Sigurd-cycle 
 proper opens with the tales called of 'Sigurd 
 Fafnir-slayer' (Sigurdar Quida Fafnisbana). The 
 first prefigures all the others. 
 
 Sigurd, son of Sigmund and Hiordisa, goes in 
 search of Griper, the wisest of men, who foreshows 
 his whole life to him. He will be the most excellent 
 of men under the sun, supreme among kings, " pro- 
 digal of gold but sparing of flight, excellent of 
 aspect, wise in words." He will first avenge his 
 father, and strike down the sons of the Hundings. 
 He will slay Fafnir and Reginn, and take from the
 
 SIGURD, GUDRUN, AND ATLA. 6/ 
 
 former all his wealth. Riding towards king Giuka 
 he will meet sleeping on the hill " the royal daugh- 
 ter, bright, in her breastplate"; he will cut the 
 breastplate with his sword ; she will teach him 
 runes, whatsoever men may wish to know, and 
 render him eloquent. He shall be the glad guest 
 of a famous king in Heimer's habitation. Sud- 
 denly the sage stops ; what he saw before him 
 has passed away from him; it would be unlawful 
 to question him any farther. Sigurd however is 
 not satisfied, and the sage reluctantly continues : 
 A woman is with Heimer, brilliant of aspect ; men 
 name her Brynhild, daughter of Budla, but she has 
 been brought up in cruelty. She will deprive him 
 of pleasure, he will neither sleep, nor speak of 
 business, nor take note of men, unless he beholds 
 the maiden. Sigurd asks if he shall marry her. 
 Yes, all oaths shall ye make, fully and firmly, but 
 few shall ye keep. When thou shalt have been 
 Giuka's host for one night, thou shalt no longer 
 remember Heimer's excellent foster-daughter. Si- 
 gurd asks if Griper sees lightness in him, that 
 he should break bonds once contracted ? Griper 
 replies that he will be deceived by the wiles of 
 a woman. The white-haired queen will offer him 
 her daughter Gudrun. Sigurd asks if he shall 
 marry her, observing philosophically that he will
 
 68 EDDA LEGENDS OF 
 
 then be " full-wived." Grimhild will wholly circum- 
 vent him ; she will advise him to ask Brynhild for 
 Gunnar, lord of men. He will promise the journey 
 to the king's mother ; he will put upon him Gun- 
 nar's outward semblance and gestures. Sigurd 
 declares that he would not deceive the lady. He 
 is told that he will sleep " chaste with the maid 
 as if she were his mother ;" therefore shall the 
 glory of his name remain while the world lasts. 
 The nuptials will be celebrated ; but Brynhild will 
 deem herself " a woman ill-given" (in marriage), 
 will tell Gunnar that Sigurd does not well keep 
 his oaths. Sigurd will be killed, Gudrun's heart 
 will burn, she will take no delight in anything. 
 But a nobler man shall not come upon the earth 
 under the sun than Sigurd. The hero finally 
 replies, philosophically enough, that the fates can- 
 not be conquered, and that Griper would have 
 foretold a fairer life for him had he been able. 
 
 Herr Simrock views this piece as one of a late 
 date. I agree with him ; no popular legend first 
 appears in the shape of a poetical prophecy. No 
 doubt all the detached elements of the story were 
 already current in popular tradition before they 
 were thrown into a whole, and put into the mouth 
 of the elsewise unknown wisest of men, Griper. 
 This lateness of date renders all the more remark-
 
 SIGURD, GUDRUN, AND ATLA. 69 
 
 able the discrepancies between this version of the 
 legend and the later German one, followed event- 
 ually in the Norse also. Gudrun, as I have pointed 
 out, not Grimhild, is Sigurd's wife, Grimhild only 
 his mother-in-law. There is nothing whatever to 
 connect Brynhild, Budla's daughter, with the en- 
 chanted lady whom Sigurd is to deliver, and who 
 is to teach him all manner of runes. But I think 
 it is impossible, considering the piece as a summary 
 of prior legends, and comparing it with the others 
 that have been preserved, to doubt that it indicates 
 the existence of several that are now lost, and 
 consequently that it must be ascribed to a de- 
 cidedly earlier period than the date of Saemund's 
 own life, to whom it has nevertheless been at- 
 tributed. If we allow half a century for the 
 measure of oblivion, it will belong say to the loth 
 century, or to the very first years of the nth. 
 The Sigurd sub-cycle then, in its connexion with 
 that of Gunnar-Gunthar, or the Niblungs, was com- 
 plete by that time. 
 
 The second tale of the series, ' Fafnisbana II.,' 
 (Sigurdar Quida, Part I.), is partly made up with 
 prose argument and interpolation. It relates to 
 the story of Fafnir and the treasure; tells how 
 Reginn (Fafnir's brother) makes a sword for 
 Sigurd ; gives his description of good and evil
 
 7O EDDA LEGENDS OF 
 
 omens. A prose tail-piece describes the actual 
 conflict, and how Sigurd stabs Fafnir to the heart. 
 Part II., though interpolated in like manner as 
 Part I., is a characteristic specimen of Edda poetry. 
 Fafnir speaks : " Youth, and youth, of what youth 
 art thou born ? of what men art thou the man ? 
 when thou didst tinge red in Fafnir that bright 
 
 o o 
 
 blade of thine, in my heart stood the sword." 
 Who impelled Sigurd to the deed ? " My spirit 
 impelled me, my hands helped me, and my sharp 
 sword." Fafnir predicts that the sounding gold 
 and rings will be Sigurd's bane. Sigurd replies 
 naively that " every man will take money per- 
 petually, till that one day when every living 
 creature must depart hence to Hela." Fafnir 
 predicts that he will die drowned. Sigurd, with 
 apparently somewhat ill-timed desire for know- 
 ledge, asks questions about the fatal Norns, and 
 is told that some are children of the Ases, some 
 of elves, some of dwarfs. Fafnir again advises 
 him to go home, and warns him that the rings and 
 money will be his bane, that Reginn, who betrayed 
 Fafnir, will also betray Sigurd. The latter rejects 
 the advice, and sings a song of triumph. Reginn, 
 who has been lying in the heath meanwhile, now 
 comes forward, cuts Fafnir's heart out and drinks 
 his blood. Sigurd sneers at him for remaining
 
 SIGURD, GUDRUN, AND ATLA. 7 1 
 
 away from the fight Reginn replies that it was 
 his sword that did it all. Sigurd now takes the 
 dragon's heart and roasts it on a spit. Touching 
 it with his finger to see if it is roasted, and putting 
 his finger to his mouth, he suddenly understands 
 the language of birds, and hears the eagles chat- 
 tering in the bushes, and saying it would be wise 
 for him to eat the heart at once, and to kill Reginn, 
 who means to cheat him and obtain all the 
 money. So Sigurd cuts Reginn's head off, eats 
 Fafnir's heart, and drinks the blood both of Fafnir 
 and Reginn. He now hears the birds talking 
 of the loveliest of women who is awaiting him, 
 sleeping on the high Hindarfjall, girt outwardly 
 on all sides with fire. 
 
 The next piece is entitled 'The tale of Bryn- 
 hilda, Budla's daughter,' (Quida Brynhildar Budla 
 dottor). The prose argument tells how Sigurd 
 rides up Hindarfjall towards Frankland, sees a 
 great light, finds a wall made of shields, a flag in the 
 middle, and a man lying all in armour, whom he dis- 
 covers to be a woman on taking off his helmet. Her 
 breastplate seems stuck to her body, he cuts it up 
 with his sword. She wakes up, exclaiming, " Who 
 has cut my breastplate ?" says that she has slept 
 long, offers him a horn of mead, and then, in several 
 stanzas of considerable beauty, greets the day, the
 
 72 EDDA LEGENDS OF 
 
 day's sons, the night and her daughter, the 
 and their kinswomen the ^Esymior, the earth. 
 Sigurd asks her to teach him wisdom, as she knows 
 all that happens in the earth. She complies : 
 " A drink I offer thee, thou warlike man, medicated 
 with strength and great glory ; filled is it with 
 lays and medicine, good prayers and pleasant 
 talk." She then proceeds to impart to him the 
 meaning of the different characters of runes, seem- 
 ingly graven on the magic cup ; giving him, in 
 fact, a whole course of ethical instruction from the 
 Norse point of view. He is to be blameless to- 
 wards his friends, not to avenge himself though 
 injured, to swear nothing but the truth, not to go 
 to law with fools, not to give hospitality to witches, 
 not to take delight in women, not to quarrel with 
 warriors over his cups, to fight rather than burn 
 bold men with whom he quarrels ; to avoid evil 
 and the betrayal of women, to take care of the 
 bodies of the dead, never to believe the promises 
 of an enemy who is his kinsman, and to observe 
 which way evil is likely to fall out. 
 
 The name of Brynhild certainly occurs at the 
 head of this piece, and is also prefixed to the 
 stanzas put in the mouth of the female interlocu- 
 tor. But the name is never once used by either 
 Sigurd or the lady, and there is absolutely nothing
 
 SIGURD, GUDRUN, AND ATLA. 73 
 
 to identify the enchanted Walkiire whom he 
 delivers with the Brynhild of the received legend. 
 It is my firm belief that such identification is 
 altogether the result of a misapprehension of later 
 times. The 'Brynhildar Quida' I take to be an 
 ethical essay of some old Norse vates, which he 
 threw into this form of a dialogue between Sigurd 
 and a Walkiire whom he delivered. The ethics 
 in nowise profit Sigurd during the remainder of 
 his adventures, nor is there anything to connect 
 this adventure with the others. This absence of 
 connexion being felt, it was sought to be supplied 
 by making Brynhild tlie delivered Walkiire ; but 
 the connexion is one of name only. 
 
 The 'Third tale of Sigurd' (Sigurdar Quida 
 Fafnisbana III.) is one of the most striking of the 
 series. Sigurd has married Giuka's daughter, Gu- 
 drun. He has conquered Brynhild for Gunnar, has 
 slept by her side, a naked sword between the pair. 
 But Brynhild loves him. At evening she says to 
 herself: " Let me have Sigurd, or die." By a 
 strange revulsion of feeling, she threatens to leave 
 Gunnar unless he kills Sigurd. Gunnar does not 
 know how to compass this, but calls Haugn to 
 counsel, telling him naively that he would rather 
 lose his life than his wife's treasures. Haugn 
 answers with the Jesuitry of a true pirate, that it is
 
 74 EDDA LEGENDS OF 
 
 not befitting for them to break " the sworn oaths, 
 the faith given ;" but that they may entrust with 
 the murder Guttorm, a younger brother, who is 
 " outside of the sworn oaths, the promises given." 
 Guttorm stabs Sigurd to the heart in his bed, but 
 Sigurd, flinging his sword at him, cuts him in two 
 as he withdraws. " Asleep was Gudrun in the 
 bed, sorrowless by Sigurd ; but she woke robbed 
 of delight." He lifts himself up : " Weep not, 
 Gudrun, so sorely, my young wife, thy brothers are 
 alive." The author of all the mischief is Bryn- 
 hild, who loved him before any other man. As he 
 expired, Gudrun swung her arms so vehemently that 
 "the horses' jaws clattered, and geese clanged in 
 the yard." " Then laughed Brynhild, Budla's 
 daughter, for once with all her heart, when from 
 her bed she heard the sharp weeping of Giuka's 
 daughter." Gunnar now reproaches Brynhild, tells 
 her she deserves that her brother Atla should be 
 slaughtered before her eyes. She tells him that 
 Atla little fears his rage ; descants upon her mis- 
 take in marrying him, declares that Sigurd is the 
 only one whom she loved, and finally announces 
 that she is about to kill herself. Gunnar throws 
 his arms round her neck ; all seek to dissuade her 
 from her purpose ; Haugn alone advises that none 
 delay her from her long journey ; and may she
 
 SIGURD, GUDRUN, AND ATLA. 75 
 
 never live again reborn ! Under cruel auspices 
 she came into her mother's sight ; she was born 
 for everlasting damage and trouble of soul to many 
 men. She distributes rich gifts among her ser- 
 vants, puts on a golden breastplate, and rips her- 
 self up with a sword. Thus wounded, she begins 
 to prophecy ; Gunnar and Gudrun will be recon- 
 ciled ; Gudrun will have a daughter, Swanhild, 
 " whiter than a beautiful day ;" Gudrun will marry 
 Atla ; Gunnar himself will try to marry Oddrun, 
 but Atla will not allow him, though they will love 
 each other, and he will be thrown into the serpents' 
 den ; but Atla will soon die, for Gudrun is bitter 
 in his bed. High waves will bear her to the land 
 of Jonakur, Swanhild will be sent out of the 
 country, and all the family of Sigurd will perish. 
 One thing she asks of Gunnar : that he will build 
 her a wide pyre, and on a bed burn with her body 
 "that Hunnish man" on one side of her, and on 
 the other side her slaves ; but let there be between 
 them a sword, " as when we two mounted on one 
 bed, and were called by the name of husband and 
 wife." Their journey will not thus be dishonour- 
 able, for they will be accompanied by five maidens, 
 eight servitors of good birth, and her foster-brother, 
 given her by Budla her father. " Much have I 
 said, more would I say, if the sword gave me more
 
 76 EDDA LEGENDS OF 
 
 space to speak. My voice fails, my wounds swell ; 
 truth only have I spoken ; so will I cease." Thus 
 artlessly closes the poem. 
 
 The observations before made with reference 
 to Griper's prophecy apply equally to that of Bryn- 
 hild. I am strongly inclined to think that it is 
 insititious, and the work of a later age, foisted in 
 to accredit the legends which it refers to ; it will 
 be observed that it is the first piece which con- 
 nects the Sigurd-Gunnar sub-cycle with that of 
 Atla. But the crude simplicity and rugged gran- 
 deur of the great bulk of the poem seem to me 
 to bear witness of its antiquity. The wholesale 
 sacrifice of human life with which it concludes 
 stamps it at once as belonging to a heathen age. 
 
 A fragment of the ' Second tale of Brynhild' 
 (Brynhildar Quida II.) deals with the same sub- 
 ject. Gunnar asks Brynhild what crime Sigurd 
 has committed, that she should wish to deprive 
 him of life ; she replies that he gave her oaths 
 which were but lies, that he deceived her when 
 he should have faithfully kept all his promises. 
 According to the version contained in this piece, 
 the murder was committed when the kings were 
 riding (somewhat in accordance with the traditions 
 followed by the Nibelungenlied). " Out stood Gu- 
 drun, Giuka's daughter, and first of all she spoke :
 
 SIGURD, GUDRUN, AND ATLA. 77 
 
 Where is now Sigurd, lord of men, that my kins- 
 man should ride the first ?" To this Haugn alone 
 gave answer: "We have cut Sigurd in half with 
 our swords ; the grey horse stands nodding over 
 the dead king. Then laughed Brynhild this time 
 with all her heart ; all the castle thundered. ' Pros- 
 perously may you enjoy your lands and subjects, 
 since you have laid the strong king low.' " But 
 a raven from the tree has cried aloud : " With your 
 blood will Atla tinge red the edges of the swords ; 
 slaughter shall break the oaths which shall be 
 given." Brynhild ends by bewailing again her fate, 
 and the deceitful journey of Sigurd and Gunnar. 
 
 ' Brynhild's Hell-ride' (Helreid Brynhildar, which 
 appears to me again a piece of late date) relates 
 the 1 questioning of Brynhild's ghost by a giantess, 
 who reproaches her with Sigurd's murder ; and is 
 apparently the first piece which connects her at all 
 with the sleeping maiden of Hindarfjall. It dwells 
 however chiefly on the circumstances of her mar- 
 riage, and tells how for eight nights she had slept 
 in the same bed with Sigurd as if he had been her 
 brother, neither laying an arm on the other, which 
 Gudrun afterwards cast at her, telling her she had 
 slept in Sigurd's arms ;* then she learnt what she 
 
 * Sigurd's deceptive conquest of marital rights for Gunnar, 
 a prominent feature of the later legend, is evidently here referred
 
 78 EDDA LEGENDS OF 
 
 fain would not have done, that they had deceived 
 her when she took a husband. The piece con- 
 cludes as usual by a platitude. " Surely with too 
 many sorrows always at once women and men will 
 be born. We two our life shall spend together, 
 Sigurd with me. Be thou swallowed in earth, 
 child of the giants !" 
 
 The ' First tale of Gudrun' (Gudrunar Quida I.) 
 is very striking. " There was a time when Gudrun 
 was ready to die, when sorrowful she sat by 
 Sigurd. She gave forth no groans, nor tossed her 
 hands, nor wept like other women. Noble earls 
 came to visit her, but she could not weep ; she 
 was so shaken with grief that she almost burst. 
 Excellent earls' wives adorned with gold sate 
 before Gudrun ; each of them told the sharpest 
 sorrow which she had borne. Then spoke Gjaf- 
 lang, Giuka's sister : ' I know myself to be the 
 most void of pleasure that is in the earth. I have 
 lost five husbands ; of two daughters, of three 
 sisters and eight brothers, I am left alone.' But 
 Gudrun in nowise could weep, so sad was she after 
 her husband's death, and burning with rage of 
 heart because of the king's murder. Then spoke 
 to her Herborg, queen of Hunland : 'A sharper 
 
 to. But it is observable that in those Norse pieces which seem the 
 earliest, Sigurd has simply jilted Brynhild.
 
 SIGURD, GUDRUN, AND ATLA. 79 
 
 woe have I to tell. My seven sons fell in fight in 
 the Southland, and my husband the eighth.' " 
 Her father and mother and her four brothers died 
 drowned, overwhelmed by the sea. Herself had 
 to perform the funeral rites and prepare their 
 graves ; and all these sufferings she endured in 
 one year, so that no one could give her comfort. 
 Then she became a prisoner of war, and had to 
 tire and tie the shoes of her warlike captor's 
 wife, threatened every morning by her and struck 
 with hard blows. " None the more could Gudrun 
 weep, so sad was she after her husband's death." 
 But Gullrand Giuka's daughter now tells her mo- 
 ther that she does not know how to deal with a 
 young woman. She uncovers the dead body, and 
 bids Gudrun kiss him as if he were alive. " One 
 look cast Gudrun, saw the king's hair running with 
 blood, the bright eyes of the prince all dull, the 
 king's heart torn with the sword. Then Gudrun 
 bent herself back on the bolster, loosened was her 
 hairpin, her cheek reddened, but a raindrop trickled 
 over her knees. Then wept Gudrun, Giuka's 
 daughter," the trait occurring which we met with 
 before, that " the geese clanged in the yard." She 
 now praises Sigurd (one of her comparisons sound- 
 ing to us rather unsavoury). Her Sigurd was 
 like " a headed leek grown high above the grass,"
 
 8O EDDA LEGENDS OF 
 
 or a bright gem strung on a string. She herself 
 was exalted, but now she is low as a leaf in the 
 woods. As she sits, as she lies, she longs for him 
 who shared her talk. She then proceeds to curse 
 her brothers and Brynhild, "that execrable fury." 
 The latter curses Gullrand for having moved 
 Gudrun to tears. Gullrand retorts, nothing loth. 
 Brynhild strangely enough now casts the blame on 
 her brother Atla. The piece closes with a striking 
 picture of Brynhild, as she stood near the pillar of 
 elmwood, strongly grasping it, flashing fire from 
 her eyes, and snorting poison, when she saw the 
 wounds in Sigurd's body. 
 
 We may safely pass over the " Drap Niflung," 
 a mere prose argument of the slaughter of the 
 Niflungs, to come to the ' Second tale of Gudrun' 
 (Quida Gudrunar Giukadottr II.) Gudrun laments 
 herself, and says that she was a maid among maid- 
 ens, brought up by her mother, bright in her 
 bower, loving much her brothers, till Giuka adorned 
 her with gold and gave her to Sigurd. " Sigurd 
 was above the sons of Giuka as a green leek, grow- 
 ing above the grass, or a high-footed hart above 
 wild beasts, or plum-bright gold above grey silver." 
 But her brothers could not rest till they had killed 
 him. Gran (his horse) ran in, and Sigurd came 
 not ; all the saddle-beasts were bathed in sweat.
 
 SIGURD, GUDRUN, AND ATLA. 8 1 
 
 Weeping she went to speak with Gran ; he dropped 
 his head on the grass. She asked his fate of her 
 brother. " Gunnar nodded his head, and said to 
 me : ' Haugn wrought Sigurd's death. Surely he 
 lies beyond the river, killed and given to wolves, 
 Guttorm his slayer. Look for Sigurd to South- 
 ward, there shalt thou hear the ravens croak, the 
 eagles scream longing for food, the wolves howl 
 around thy husband." Gudrun wished that the 
 ravens might tear Gunnar's own heart. She went 
 alone to collect what the wolves had left. 
 " Neither did I utter a groan, nor toss my hands, 
 nor weep like other women, when fasting I sat by 
 
 Sigurd The wolves would have seemed to me 
 
 far kinder had they taken my life ; or fain had 
 I been burnt as the birchwood." It is now related 
 that she went to Half, Sigurd's foster-father, and re- 
 mained seven and a half years with Thor, daughter 
 of Haco, in Denmark, occupying herself in tapestry 
 work, and tracing the great deeds of the Hun 
 warriors, Sigmund and others. Grimhild sends 
 Haugn to appease her ; offers her a drink " cold 
 and bitter," which shall make her forget her in- 
 juries; and makes her the most liberal promises 
 if she will consent to marry Atla. After shewing 
 much repugnance to the idea of marrying a brother 
 of Brynhild, she at last consents. Evil dreams
 
 82 EDDA LEGENDS OF 
 
 beset Atla the night of his marriage ; he relates to 
 his wife how he has seen her stab him, seen his 
 favourite shrubs torn out of his garden, eagles fly 
 out of his arms " foodless to luckless roofs," whelps 
 escape from his hand, their bodies turned to corpses 
 which he had unwillingly to eat. This piece ap- 
 pears to me a patchwork of fragments, and Atla's 
 " garden" and Gudrun's tapestry seem evidently to 
 indicate a more settled age than that of the early 
 Norse rovers. 
 
 The ' Third tale of Gudrun' (Quida Gudrunar 
 Giukadottr III.) refers to a legend of which there 
 is no trace elsewhere. Gudrun addresses Atla, 
 asking what ails him ? He tells her that what is 
 amiss with him is that she dishonours him with 
 Theodrec (Theodoric). She denies the imputation, 
 declaring that they only talked together in their 
 sorrow, and offers to undergo the ordeal of boiling 
 water. She comes through it unscathed, whilst 
 her accuser, Herkia, gets scalded, and receives a 
 ducking in a foul pool. This piece seems to be- 
 long to the Atla-Etzel sub-cycle, mixed already 
 with that of Theodrec-Dietrich. Herkia is evi- 
 dently Attila's historic wife Herca or Kerka (Helche 
 of the Germans). The piece is ascribed by Grimm 
 to the eleventh or twelfth century, and by P. E. 
 Miiller is attributed to Saemund himself.
 
 SIGURD, GUDRUN, AND ATLA. 83 
 
 The ' Lament of Oddrun' (Oddrunar Gratr) is 
 another somewhat similar offshoot from the main 
 stem of tradition, which should perhaps have been 
 inserted in the collection somewhat further on. 
 Oddrun is represented as acting the part of Lucina 
 towards a certain Borgnya, and thereupon tells her 
 story. She loved Gunnar as Brynhild ought to 
 have done. Gunnar offered much money to Atla, 
 who seems to have had control of her, for per- 
 mission to marry her. He refuses to receive it 
 from Giuka's sons ; but they could not refrain from 
 stolen pleasures, and were at last surprized in a thick 
 wood by Atla's servants. In vain they offer rings 
 to their discoverers to keep their secret ; they are 
 betrayed, and of the two Niflungs, Haugn's heart 
 is cut out, and Gunnar is thrown into the den of 
 snakes. Oddrun tries to save him by means of 
 a boat, but fails, and Atla's mother " may she 
 rot alive !" stabs him to the heart. 
 
 Now comes the grim ' Tale of Atla' (Atla Quida), 
 which the last one anticipates on some points. 
 Atla sends a messenger to Gunnar, inviting him 
 to his court, and promising presents to him. Gun- 
 nar is doubtful as to accepting the invitation ; he 
 asks Haugn's advice, who dissuades him from 
 going. They have more wealth than the Huns 
 can give them. What meant the girl who sent
 
 84 EDDA LEGENDS OF 
 
 them a ring wrapped in wolfs skin ? surely caution. 
 But other friends advise them to the contrary, and 
 finally Gunnar leaves with Haugn, though with 
 evil forebodings. " The wolf," he says, " will 
 possess the heritage of the Niflungs. O aged men 
 adorned with beards ! if Gunnar perish, black-felled 
 bears will bite the harvests with their teeth ; the 
 troop of dogs will rejoice if Gunnar comes not 
 back." Journeying still under evil auspices, they 
 reach at last Atla's castle. Their sister (Gudrun) 
 hears her brothers enter. " Thou art betrayed 
 now, Gunnar !" she cries, and advises him to leave 
 the house, as the snake-den will be his doom. He 
 answers that it is too late. They take him and 
 throw him into chains. Haugn however sells his 
 life dear. " Seven did Haugn kill with his sharp 
 sword ; but the eighth he thrust into the hot fire : 
 so should a fierce man defend himself from his 
 foes." Gunnar is now represented as making some 
 inexplicable requests for the heart of Haugn.* 
 Instead of cutting out his heart in the first instance, 
 they cut out that of Hialla, place it upon a bloody 
 dish, and offer it to Gunnar. He sees through the 
 
 * In the closing scene of the Nibelungenliecl, Hagen refuses 
 to tell where the Niblungs' hoard is buried while Gunther is alive, 
 and Kriemhilt hereupon has her brother's head cut off. Something 
 to this effect is probably here implied, the parts played by the two 
 personages being however interverted.
 
 SIGURD, GUDRUN, AND ATLA. 85 
 
 deception : " Here have I the heart of Hialla the 
 fearful, different from the heart of Haugn the 
 fearless. If it quivers much, lying in the dish, 
 it quivered much more when it lay in his breast." 
 They now treat Haugn in like manner : " Then 
 laughed Haugn, when they cut him to the heart 
 .... he thought nowise of weeping. They placed 
 it bloody in a dish, and bore it to Gunnar. Calmly 
 spoke Gunnar, the warlike Niflung : ' Here have 
 I the heart of Haugn the fearless, different from 
 the heart of Hialla the fearful. If it quivers little, 
 lying in the dish, so not much it quivered when 
 it lay in his breast.' " He says he is now sole heir 
 to the Niflungs' treasure, since Haugn is dead ; 
 while they both lived, it was always doubtful. 
 Now it is nought to him, let the Rhine have it. 
 Atla comes to him ; Gunnar reproaches him. 
 " Anger billowing in his soul struck the harp 
 through his foot" (i. e. his hands being manacled) ; 
 " clear sounded the strings. So should the fierce- 
 minded ring-bestower keep his gold against men." 
 He is killed, seemingly by Atla. Gudrun now 
 brings to drink to the latter in a gilt cup ; she 
 insults him for the death of her brothers, and of 
 her sons Erp and Eitel, whose death is thus far 
 merely inferred. Atla had wearied himself with 
 drinking ; he had no spear in his hand, for he did
 
 86 EDDA LEGENDS OF 
 
 not beware of Gudrun. She kills him, and sets fire 
 to the palace. " No such woman ever since put 
 on the breastplate to avenge her brothers. Three 
 illustrious kings she put to death" (i. e. Atla and 
 his two sons) " before glorious she perished." 
 
 A complete divergence will be observed between 
 the tone of this piece and those of the true Sigurd 
 group. There we heard of Gunnar and Haugn's 
 treachery towards Sigurd, and Gudrun's bitter 
 grief and intimated thirst of revenge against her 
 brothers. Here Gunnar and Haugn especially rise 
 from traitors into heroes ; Gudrun, though Atla's 
 wife, has nothing but affection towards her brothers, 
 and avenges them not only on Atla but upon her 
 own children by him. I think it is impossible 
 to mistake here the existence of two separate 
 threads of tradition, of two legends, of one of 
 which Sigurd, of the other of which the Niflungs 
 are the heroes, but which some clumsy hand has 
 sought to weave into one by the insertion in the 
 ' Gudrunar Quida II.' of Grimhild's expedient of 
 the cup of oblivion. 
 
 Another version of the last legend is the ' Song 
 of AtlainGreenlandish'* (Atla mal in Graenlandsko). 
 
 * i. e. Not the American Greenland, but a district of that name 
 in Sweden. Grimm supposes this piece to be somewhat later than 
 the others, which he ascribes to the eighth century.
 
 SIGURD, GUDRUN, AND ATLA. 8/ 
 
 From this it appears, as may be inferred from the 
 last, that the treachery towards the Niflungs was 
 Atla's own ; that his wife heard secretly what was 
 being plotted, and wrote them letters of warning 
 by the messenger. All* was joy, it relates, at 
 Gunnar's, when the message was received. Kost- 
 bera, Haugn's wife, was there, as well as Glaumvar, 
 Gunnar's own wife. But at night Kostbera, a wise 
 woman, decyphers Gudrun's letter by the firelight. 
 She communicates to Haugn his sister's warning, 
 presses him not to go. To his protests that he 
 is not afraid, she retorts by relating all manner 
 of ill-omened dreams which she has had, that his 
 bed was burned, that a high fire shot up through 
 the house, that a bear came in, breaking through 
 the doors, and seized many people between his 
 jaws, that an eagle flew in and sprinkled them 
 all with blood. Glaumvor meanwhile relates dreams 
 of equally evil omen to Gunnar, that he was going 
 to be hanged, that worms devoured his body, that 
 a bloody sword was taken out of him, that a 
 spear transfixed him, that dogs ran about bark- 
 ing; that a stream flowed in, swelled over the 
 seats, overwhelmed everything; that dead women 
 came in full dress, claiming him as their husband 
 and inviting him to their couch. Gunnar an- 
 swers that it is too late, that go they must. As
 
 88 EDDA LEGENDS OF 
 
 a last resource Glaumvor hints her fears to the 
 messenger, warning him of the dishonour of treach- 
 ery. He curses Atla if any evil should be intended. 
 After leave-taking the Niflungs depart, pursued as 
 in the other piece by evil omens. Arrived at their 
 destination, the messenger, somewhat ironically, one 
 would say, bids them depart, revealing the intended 
 treachery. Haugn kills him ; they insult Atla 
 who was assembling with his hosts. Gudrun rushes 
 out, scattering her necklaces and rings, kisses the 
 Niflungs, reminds them of her warnings, and vainly 
 endeavours to make peace. She then throws off 
 her mantle, seizes a sword, defends the life of her 
 kinsmen, strikes two men to the ground, wounds 
 Atla's brother so that he has to be carried away, 
 kills another still. They fight three hours, the 
 field flows with blood, till of thirty men that were 
 with Atla eighteen had fallen. Atla now curses 
 Gudrun ; he has had no peace since she came to 
 him ; she has sent his sister to hell. She replies 
 that he took her mother, killed her for her treasures, 
 starved her cousin to death ; thanks be to the 
 Gods that things fall out ill with him ! whereupon 
 the poet breaks out into an appeal to worthy men 
 to lament Gudrun. The remainder of the piece 
 appears to be in great measure an amplification 
 of the last. More intelligibly, however, it seems
 
 SIGURD, GUDRUN, AND ATLA. 89 
 
 to ascribe to Atla the order to cut out Haugn's 
 heart, while Gunnar is fixed on a gibbet. Beit 
 advises to cut out Hialla's heart instead. The 
 wretched slave " howled before he felt the blade," 
 offered to manure the gardens, to do the hardest 
 labours if suffered to live. Haugn " few do so" 
 intercedes for the slave. His laughter when his 
 own heart is cut out is again commemorated, as 
 well as Gunnar's playing on the harp, so sweetly, 
 that women wept, men lamented. A dialogue 
 between Atla and Gudrun now follows. He boasts 
 of his success ; she warns him to expect no good 
 whilst she is alive ; he endeavours to pacify her 
 by promises of presents. Her lamentations are for 
 Haugn : " We two were brought up in the same 
 house, and played many a game." She defers 
 however eventually to her husband's superior 
 strength ; let him do as he pleases. Atla is de- 
 ceived. A great feast is appointed, by Gudrun 
 in honour of her brother's funeral, by Atla for 
 the entertainment of his men. She cuts off her 
 two children's heads. Atla asks where they have 
 gone to play, since he sees them nowhere. She 
 tells him that she has killed them, has given him 
 their skulls for cups, reddened his drink with 
 their blood. " I took," she says, " their hearts, 
 and roasted them on a spit ; then I offered them
 
 9O EDDA LEGENDS OF 
 
 to thee, and said they were calves' hearts. . . . Thou 
 leftest nothing of the dish ; greedily didst thou 
 eat." He tells her she shall be burnt next day, 
 after being stoned. By a totally new conclusion, 
 which seems in fact a different fragment, Haugn's 
 daughter and Gudrun kill Atla, after mutual re- 
 proaches between husband and wife ; and finally 
 Gudrun kills herself. 
 
 She is however alive again in the next piece, 
 the ' Song of Hamdir' or ' Hamdismal'. The 
 subject of this is Gudrun's revenge for the death 
 of Swanhild (her daughter by Sigurd) who had 
 been given in marriage to Jormunrek, and "whom 
 Jormunrek had trampled under foot by horses 
 white and black in the highway." It is this out- 
 rage which she presses her two sons (by Sigurd) 
 to avenge ; they are the only remains of her 
 family ; she is solitary as a poplar in the holt. 
 Her son Hamdir tells her she did not praise Haugn 
 when they woke Sigurd from sleep ; Saurli, the 
 other son, warns her that she will have to bewail 
 them also, as they will die far away. On their 
 road they meet and fell to the ground their brother 
 Erpr, but press on to Jormunrek's palace. Jor- 
 munrek was sitting in his hall ; he " laughed, he 
 stroked his beard with his hand ; he shook his 
 dark head," and ordered his golden cup to be
 
 SIGURD, GUDRUN, AND ATLA. 91 
 
 filled. " Could he but see Hamdir and Saurli, 
 and bind them with bowstrings, and hang them on 
 a gibbet ! . . . A tumult arose in the hall ; the cups 
 flew; men lay bathed in blood that had issued 
 from men's breasts." Hamdir cries that Jormunrek 
 had wished for them, and there they were. The 
 king " growled like a bear." The young men how- 
 ever are overpowered, and perish, lamenting the 
 death of their brother Erpr. 
 
 " Gudrun's promptings" (Gudrunar Hvavt) is a 
 piece turning on the same story, and running 
 almost in the same words, with only a few ad- 
 ditional developments. " I knew three fires, I 
 knew three hearths ; to the house of three hus- 
 bands was I brought. Better than all was Sigurd 
 alone, whose death was brought by my brothers." 
 She tells how she cast herself into the water, how 
 the waves refused to drown her, how she married 
 a third time, and had children of Jonakur ; praises 
 Swanhild ; laments over her ills, and seems to end 
 by announcing the intention to burn herself. The 
 piece is evidently the composition of a mere pro- 
 fessional minstrel, as is shewn by the conclusion : 
 " May it be better of heart with all worthy men, 
 may sorrow be less to all women, to whom this 
 tale of woe shall be recited." 
 
 The Older Edda is no doubt a very interesting
 
 92 EDDA LEGENDS OF 
 
 and precious historical monument. It is, if I am 
 not mistaken, the earliest collection of national 
 myths and traditional songs which the middle ages 
 have handed down to us ; that directed by Charle- 
 magne to be made two centuries before having 
 to all appearance perished. Venerable as the 
 Edda is however even in its present shape, I can- 
 not doubt that it owes much of that shape to the 
 doctoring of the worthy Saemund. I cannot be- 
 lieve that many of the pieces in the cycle which 
 has occupied us are not composed of fragments 
 tagged together according to the notions of the 
 compiler. I cannot but believe that the order in 
 which he has placed them, however convenient for 
 the reader who seeks merely a continuous legend, 
 is in fact wholly foreign to the original character 
 and family relations of many at least among them. 
 I cannot but believe that many passages are in 
 fact mere interpolations, inserted for the very pur- 
 pose of propping up the factitious sequency thus 
 created. 
 
 For any one who looks at the group of poems 
 with unprejudiced eyes, I repeat my conviction 
 that they must be felt to be wholly discrepant 
 amongst themselves. The Gudrun who sits tear- 
 less by Sigurd's corpse is a totally different 
 personage from the Gudrun who fights by Gunnar
 
 SIGURD, GUDRUN, AND ATLA. 93 
 
 and Haugn's side. Later ages may have sought to 
 patch them up into one by the clumsy expedient 
 of the cup of oblivion (which makes her forget 
 nothing). The Sigurd group appears to me the 
 oldest one, the group of Atla and the destruction 
 of the Niflungs to come next, and that of the re- 
 venge of Swanhild's death to be the last. Sigurd's 
 great exploit, the killing of Fafnir, it may be ob- 
 served, is alluded to in that remarkable book which 
 Mr. Dasent has introduced to English readers, the 
 'Story of Burnt Njal,' since in it Hallgerda directs 
 her daughter by Glum to be called Thorgerda, " for 
 she came down from Sigurd Fafnisbane on the 
 father's side, according to the family pedigree" 
 (vol. i. p. 30).* 
 
 The correspondence between the Atla group of 
 poems, it may be observed, with the facts of his- 
 tory, is somewhat closer than that of the Nibelun- 
 genlied. The historic Attila is related to have 
 been found dead in his bed on the morrow of his 
 marriage with a young German, Ildico. The ver- 
 sion of a death from natural causes seems to have 
 been politicly adopted by his successors. But 
 the rumour spread evidently at an early period 
 
 * This, it will be observed, is in contradiction with Brynhild's 
 prophecy in the third tale of Sigurd, that all Sigurd's family will 
 perish.
 
 94 EDDA LEGENDS OF 
 
 that he was murdered by Ildico, in revenge for the 
 death of her kinsman, a part nearly identical to 
 that played by Gudrun in the Atla songs of the 
 Edda. M. Amedee Thierry even ingeniously con- 
 jectures that in the Walthar ' Hiltgund' is ' Ildico,' 
 and that Attila's fury at Hiltgund's escape is to be 
 ascribed to a passion for her. 
 
 If from the Edda we pass to the Skaldic works 
 of the thirteenth century, we find the different 
 legends woven into a still more elaborate story. 
 Yet it is remarkable that though the sleeping 
 Walkiire is called Brynhilde, she does not appear 
 to be further identified with Brynhild the daughter 
 of Giuka. The quarrel between Gudrun and Bryn- 
 hild is attributed to their both going to the river to 
 wash their heads, when Brynhild went further in 
 the stream, saying that she would not wash her head 
 with water coming from Gudrun's hair, since she 
 had a braver husband ; to which Gudrun retorted 
 by disclosing the facts of Sigurd's victory. De- 
 scribing the death of Gunnar, the Saga relates that 
 when Gunnar in the serpents' den harped with his 
 feet because his hands were bound, he sent to sleep 
 all the snakes there, except one adder, which bit 
 him in the breast, fastened its head in the wound, 
 and hung feeding on his liver. Such details are 
 evidently the mere embroidery of a more active
 
 SIGURD, GUDRUN, AND ATLA. 95 
 
 fancy, thrown over the rugged groundwork of the 
 old legends.* 
 
 I have said that the existing group of poems 
 relating to Swanhild's death appears to me the 
 latest of the three forming the Norse epics. Its 
 subject however is both ancient and historical. 
 For Jornandes in the middle of the sixth century, 
 speaking of Hermanric, the great ruler of the 
 united Goths before the time when the Huns first 
 drove them on the Roman empire, mentions the 
 execution by him of his wife Sanielh, whom we 
 may identify with Swanhild, and his subsequent 
 murder by her brothers " Sarus" and " Ammius." 
 In these it is easy to recognize the "Saurli" and 
 " Hamdir" of the Edda, on the one hand, and on 
 the other the " Hama" whom Beowulf speaks of as 
 having experienced Eormenric's craft, and carried 
 away a great treasure. Next, the Quedlinburg 
 chronicle (end of the tenth and beginning of the 
 eleventh century) speaks equally of Hermanric's 
 murder by the brothers " Hernidus" (for which read 
 " Hemidus"), " Serila", and " Adaocar", the two 
 former names being still identifiable with "Hamdir" 
 and " Saurli", while the third, if discrepant from 
 the Norse " Erpr", still indicates in agreement with 
 
 * Being ignorant of the Norse, I quote only from the German 
 abridgment of the ' Saga-bibliothek' annexed to Simrock's Edda.
 
 96 EDDA LEGENDS OF 
 
 it the existence of a third brother. Eckehard in 
 the Ursperg chronicle, writing in the first half of the 
 twelfth century, and referring to Jornandes, speaks 
 of the " Sarus" and " Ammius" of that author as 
 commonly called " Sarelus" and " Hamidiecus' 
 names still closer to the Norse. Lastly, if we turn 
 to the eighth book of Saxo Grammaticus, an 
 author of the second half of the twelfth century, 
 we shall find equally the story of the marriage of 
 "Jarmericus" described here as king of Denmark 
 with " S wavilda" (evidently the Norse "Swanhild"), 
 of her adultery and treading under foot by horses, 
 which at first shrank from injuring her lovely form, 
 and of 'Jarmericus" death at the hands of her four 
 step-brothers, whom Saxo calls Hellespontici (ap- 
 parently meaning Danes of Huen). Remarkably 
 enough, the name "Guthruna" (Gudrun) even occurs, 
 but as that of a Norse sorceress whom the brothers 
 consult, and by whose magic arts the king's men 
 fall out amongst themselves. The mythical portion 
 of the Norse poems seems thus to lie simply in 
 the connexion between the story of Hermanric 
 and those of Sigurd and Attila, Hermanric, for 
 instance, having died a quarter of a century before 
 Attila's birth. 
 
 The Norse poems which I have analyzed are, 
 like the misnamed ballads of later times, epoids
 
 SIGURD, GUDRUN, AND ATLA. 97 
 
 rather than epics. Such short epically treated 
 pieces form indeed (as we know by the instance 
 of the Iliad itself) the stuff out of which epics are 
 woven ; and if the worthy Saemund had possessed 
 a little more of poetic fervour, instead of merely 
 arranging those of the Sigurd and Atla cycle in 
 a sequency, and (I suspect) doctoring them more 
 or less, he would very likely have anticipated the 
 ' Nibelungenlied' by making one poem of the whole. 
 I think nevertheless one feels very thankful to 
 him that he did not. The rough vigour and dread 
 pathos of several of the pieces might probably 
 have been lost without any countervailing ad- 
 vantages.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE LAY OF HILDEBRAND (HILDEBRANT'S LIED). 
 
 THE name which forms the core of the third sub- 
 cycle, that of Dietrich, it will be observed, has only 
 occurred once in the Edda in the ' Third tale of 
 Gudrun', itself without direct connexion with the 
 main current of the legend. I have left on one 
 side hitherto the ancient German poem already 
 mentioned as belonging to this sub-cycle, and 
 considered by German writers, as I have said, to 
 be of the eighth century. As a transition to the 
 ' Nibelungenlied', in which all previous sub-cycles 
 are fused into one, it has now become necessary 
 to consider it, and its intrinsic merit fully entitles 
 it to our attention. I shall refer to it from Grein's 
 edition (Gottingen, 1858).* A text of it, with Latin 
 
 * Or see Simrock's ' Altdeutsches Lesebuch,' Bonn, 1851. 
 A French translation is given in Ampere's ' Histoire Litteraire de 
 la France avant le douzieme siecle.'
 
 THE LAY OF HILDEBRAND. 99 
 
 and English translation, is indeed to be found in 
 Weber's " Illustrations of Northern Antiquities." 
 But the state of criticism was so low at the date 
 of his work, that he treats it as a fragment of 
 a " prose romance," the old alliterative rhythm 
 of the piece having till then entirely escaped the 
 learned, whilst the rendering of several passages 
 differs greatly from that of more recent interpreters. 
 The subject of this poem, of which unfortunately 
 only a fragment has been preserved to us, is a 
 fight between father and son; thereby recalling, 
 as has been observed, the well-known oriental 
 legend of the fight between Sohrab and Rustem, 
 to which Firdausi has given so beautiful a shape. 
 I shall give a condensation of it, premising that 
 many words and meanings of the text are still 
 doubtful and contested. The language in which 
 it is written differs very considerably from that 
 of any of the other German poems of the cycle 
 which have come down to us, and whether be- 
 longing to the eighth century or not, testifies of 
 great antiquity. 
 
 ' I have heard tell how by challenge Hildebrand 
 and Hadubrand met between two hosts, the son 
 with the father.* They made ready their armour, 
 put to rights their battle garments, girded on their 
 
 * Literally, "son-fatherly."
 
 100 THE LAY OF HILDEBRAND 
 
 swords, the heroes, on their coats of mail; they 
 rode to the fight. 
 
 ' Hildebrand spoke, Heribrand's son. He was 
 the lordlier man, the more experienced in life. 
 He began to ask with few words who of the men 
 in the people might be his (opponent's) father? 
 " Of what race art thou ? If thou name me one 
 (kinsman) I know the others ; all the great nation 
 I know." 
 
 ' Hadubrand spoke, Hildebrand's son : " This 
 was told me by our people, the old and experienced, 
 who were before me, that my father was called 
 Hildebrand. I am called Hadubrand. Of old 
 he went eastward, he fled hence from Ottaker's 
 hatred, with Deotric (Dietrich) and his many 
 knights, he forsook in the land both his young 
 bride in her bower and his unwaxen bairn without 
 inheritance ; eastward he rode from hence. Since 
 then Deotric lost my father, so friendless a man ; 
 unmeasured was Ottaker's wrath against that best 
 of knights till Deotric lost him. At the head of 
 the folk was he ever, fighting was ever lieve to 
 him ; men of price knew him well. I ween not 
 he is yet alive." 
 
 " I pledge the great God above in heaven," 
 quoth Hildebrand, " that thou never heldest con- 
 verse with a man so near of kin as now." He
 
 (HILDEBRANT'S LIED). 101 
 
 took from his arms twisted rings made by the 
 imperials, which the king gave him, the lord of 
 the Huns : " This I now give to thee of free grace." 
 
 ' Hadubrand spoke, Hildebrand's son : " With 
 the spear should one receive gifts, spear-point 
 against spear-point Crafty art thou beyond mea- 
 sure, thou old Hun. Thou trickest me with thy 
 words, thou wilt throw me with thy spear. So 
 aged art thou that thou must be always plotting. 
 This was told me by seamen, westward over the 
 middle sea, that he was carried off by the battle. 
 Dead is Hildebrand, Heribrand's son." 
 
 ' Hildebrand spoke, Heribrand's son. "Woe 
 now, O ruler-God ! sorrow befals me. Sixty sum- 
 mers and winters I have wandered out of my 
 country ; wherever I might be placed among the 
 fighters, in no stronghold yet hath any wrought 
 bane on me ; now shall my sweet child hew me 
 with his sword, crush me with his bill, or I must 
 be his bane. Alas ! I see by thy weapons that 
 thou hast a good lord, and wilt not be a recreant 
 in defence of his land ; if thy strength avail thee, 
 thou mayest win arms of a lordly man, and strip 
 him of his armour-ornaments. Most cowardly 
 would he be of the East-folk who should refuse 
 thee the fight, since thou so boastest thee. To-day 
 must it be decided which of us two shall boast
 
 IO2 THE LAY OF HILDEBRAND 
 
 of armour won, or be master of both breast- 
 plates." 
 
 'Then rained they forth first their ash-spears 
 sharply, so that they stuck in either shield. Then 
 rushed they together in their battle-garments, they 
 lifted harmfully their white shields' 
 
 In the whole of the Norse-German cycle there 
 is nothing so truly Homeric as this noble fragment, 
 the lost conclusion of which, I suppose, consisted 
 in the death of Hadubrand, though a modernized 
 version by Kaspar von der Roen (end of fifteenth 
 century) concludes by a reconciliation. An echo 
 of the poem is also to be found in one of the late 
 works of the cycle, 'Alphart's death', in which 
 Alphart, Hildebrand's nephew, has an encounter 
 with Hildebrand under strange armour, and in like 
 manner refuses to believe the latter when he declares 
 himself, treating his words as a mere trick to 
 deceive him. 
 
 The chief value of the poem in its mutilated 
 shape, however, consists in its introducing us to 
 two prominent personages of the Nibelungenlied, 
 Dietrich and his follower Hildebrand, always called 
 Master Hildebrand in later tradition. As before 
 observed,* the historical struggle between Odoacer- 
 Ottaker and Theodoric-Deodric is visibly referred 
 * See ante, p. 36.
 
 (HILDEBRANT'S LIED). 103 
 
 to ; but on the other hand, the legendary connexion 
 between Dietrich and Attila is referred to almost 
 as evidently, since Hildebrand is spoken of as an 
 "old Hun," and as wearing rings given by "the 
 lord of the Huns." And the character of Hilde- 
 brand himself a sort of Teutonic cross between 
 Nestor and Ulysses old, experienced, crafty, yet 
 full of valour is precisely the same as that as- 
 signed to him in the later legends. 
 
 The ' Lay of Hildebrand' is said to have been 
 found at Fulda on a MS. actually of the eighth 
 century. No doubt its alliterative rhythm places it 
 far in the rear of any other works of the cycle in the 
 German group. But if we assume the Edda poems 
 to represent in the main the customs and feelings 
 of the Norsemen in the eighth century, it is really 
 surprising to find how widely different are those 
 indicated in the ' Lay of Hildebrand,' which seems 
 to belong to the actual dawn of an age of chivalry. 
 The rude bandits of the Edda, greedy only of gold, 
 are here succeeded by champions in 'battle-gar- 
 ments,' i. e. armour, engaging in single combat on 
 horseback, breaking their spears on each other's 
 shields, actuated by a keen sense of honour. I 
 know of nothing, I must say, in the eighth century 
 which answers to this picture. The very term 
 'battle-garment', with several other expressions,
 
 104 THE LAY O F HILDEBRAND. 
 
 belongs essentially to the language of the later 
 poems. Were it not for what seems to be the 
 positive evidence of palaeography, I confess I should 
 feel great difficulty on this ground in attributing 
 to the ' Lay of Hildebrand' a greater antiquity than 
 to the ' Walthar', i. e. in placing it at an earlier 
 period than the ninth century. 
 
 We have now before us all the elements of the 
 great epic which crowns without closing the Norse- 
 German cycle. This we have next to consider.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 ('NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 
 
 BEFORE treating of the ' Nibelungenlied' I should, 
 if I followed German authority, have spoken of the 
 poem of ' Biterolf and Dietlieb/ published by Von 
 der Hagen in the second volume of his ' Deutsche 
 Gedichte des Mittelalters/ Berlin, 1820, and which 
 is treated by Gervinus as anterior to the 'Nibe- 
 lungenlied', and belonging to the twelfth century ; 
 and I should also have postponed the ' Lied' or 
 ' Lay' itself of the Niblungs to the ' Klage' or 
 ' Lament', which is equally treated by Gervinus as 
 anterior in date to the former, and which is more- 
 over considered by both Lachmann and W. Grimm 
 to be the work of the same author as ' Biterolf.' I 
 shall however give further on the reason for my 
 not doing so. 
 
 Considered as the centre and masterpiece of its 
 cycle, the ' Lay of the Niblungs' stands alone
 
 106 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 amongst the great epic cycles in the lateness of 
 its date. It belongs, in its earliest actual shape, to 
 the beginning of the thirteenth century (1210) 
 i.e. to a period, as we shall see hereafter, when 
 the Carlovingian epic was in full decadence : it is 
 almost incredible to think that, heathen in fact as 
 is the substance of it under a thin drapery of 
 Christianity, in its finished shape it preceded but 
 by little more than half a century the birth of the 
 great Christian poet of the middle ages (Dante, 
 born 1265), and is only about a century older than 
 that marvellous work of his, which is as it were the 
 summing up of middle-age Christianity itself (Divina 
 Commedia, supposed by Tiraboschi to have been 
 finished by 1313); since it is certainly not too 
 much to say that the spirit of the ' Nibelungenlied' 
 is as far removed from that of Dante, as is the latter 
 from that of our own times. The detached por- 
 tions of the German epic are however supposed to 
 have been put into shape between 1190 and 1210; 
 whilst a Latin original is also supposed to have 
 been composed between 960 and 980, founded itself 
 on popular songs of an earlier date. The great 
 difficulty connected with the ' Nibelungenlied' lies 
 however in the differences which exist between the 
 legend embodied in it and that of the Edda. For, 
 discrepant as are the Norse poems of the Sigurd-
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 107 
 
 Atla group, their discrepancy with the German 
 ones of the parallel group, as I have already in 
 part pointed out, is still more surprising. Sigurd 
 indeed, under the name of Sifrit (Sivrit, Sigfrid, 
 Siegfried) reappears as the original hero, to be 
 murdered by Gunther and Hagen, the 'Gunnar' 
 and ' Haugn' of the Norse, they in turn to lose 
 their life at Etzel's court. But, in one half of the 
 cycle, instead of the latter princes being the ' Nib- 
 lungs', it is Sifrit himself and his father Sigmund 
 who are connected with that name. In the whole, 
 instead of Gudrun, it is Kriemhilt her mother 
 in the Norse who marries Sifrit, and afterwards 
 Etzel. And instead of her showing any affection 
 towards her brothers at the last, it is her bitter 
 relentless hatred towards them which is made the 
 moving-spring of the final tragedy. In this more- 
 over great prominence is given to Dietrich, whose 
 name, it will be remembered, scarcely figures in the 
 Edda. Strange as this may appear, considering 
 the frequent communications which existed be- 
 tween Germany and Scandinavia throughout the 
 middle ages, it is certain that something like the 
 German version of the latter portion of the legend 
 was popular in the twelfth century ; since in that 
 century Saxo Grammaticus, relating an event of 
 about the year 1130, speaks of a Saxon minstrel
 
 108 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 sent to duke Canute of Seeland by king Magnus 
 on a treacherous errand, as having sought to warn 
 his victim by singing the tale of the "notorious 
 treachery of Grimild towards her brothers" (Book 
 xiii). But it is not only the variations in the story 
 which separate the Norse poems from the German 
 ones. The Norse heroes are mere wandering chiefs, 
 the German ones knights and princes. Love, 
 which especially in the earlier Sigurd group of the 
 Norse is rather rudely made use of than delineated, 
 becomes in the ' Lay of the Niblungs' a prominent 
 feature of the tale. The interval between the two, 
 judging by the tone and spirit alone, is that not of 
 years but of centuries. The Edda presents us with 
 the rough songs of Norse sea-rovers ; the ' Nibe- 
 lungenlied' belongs to the early part of the age of 
 chivalry. This is indeed discernible even in the 
 old 'Lay of Hildebrand', as I have above tried to 
 point out. 
 
 The ' Nibelungenlied', of which an abstract is 
 already to be found in Weber, and which has been 
 frequently reviewed in this country, and even trans- 
 lated into English verse (by Mr. W. N. Lettsom, 
 1850), is probably still chiefly known among us 
 through a paper by Mr. Carlyle (Miscellanies, vol. 
 ii.). I have indeed doubly hesitated, after the new 
 and spirited abstract of it contained in Mr. Carlyle's
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 109 
 
 Essay, with its snatches of translation in verse, to 
 present one of my own in sober prose. But, 
 misled apparently, as I have before ventured to 
 suggest, by Weber, Mr. Carlyle, whilst admitting 
 the ' Nibelungenlied' to be of earlier date than the 
 ' Heldenbuch', proceeds to consider it through the 
 medium of the latter, including even its latest 
 element, the ' Horned Siegfried ;' which process, 
 though the literary values of the works would be in- 
 verted, seems to me somewhat as if one should try 
 to evolve the Arthurian legend out of Sir Thomas 
 Mallory through the ' Idylls of the King.' I have 
 therefore, for the better comprehension of the whole 
 cycle, assigned to the ' Lay of the Niblungs' its 
 due place and space in the development of the 
 legend. For the history of the poem itself, how 
 it was first printed in 1757 by Bodmer, then by 
 C. H. Muller, and finally was " investigated, trans- 
 lated, collated, commented upon with more or less 
 result, to almost boundless lengths," I would refer 
 the reader to Mr. Carlyle's pages. It will be suf- 
 ficient to say that, whilst the characteristic feature 
 of the work lies in its consisting, in its present 
 shape, not of a mere collection of detached pieces 
 put into sequency by a compiler, but of an actual 
 fusion, whether by one hand or by several, of 
 whatever elements may have previously existed
 
 1 10 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 separately into a real poem, discrepant indeed still 
 to a great extent in its various parts, but still full 
 of interest as a whole, a furious controversy has 
 raged amongst our German cousins as to whether 
 it was to be considered as one poem or as many, 
 and the attempt has been made by Lachmann to 
 sort out as many as twenty separate poems from 
 it; and he in turn, after apparently winning his 
 way with the mass of the literary world, has found 
 himself latterly sharply contradicted by Professor 
 Holtzendorf of Heidelberg, a stout assertor of the 
 original unity of the poem. I am assured however 
 by a valued German friend, and am delighted to 
 hear it, that "public opinion in general takes no 
 interest at all in the debate, no more than it did to 
 any amount when Lachmann started his theory." 
 Almost all analogy of course would lead to the 
 conclusion that Lachmann is substantially right, 
 that like all real popular epics, the work is one 
 literally composed, i. e. put together, not written off 
 as a whole, like the cultivated epics of a more 
 modern era ; but few probably would be disposed 
 to carry out the view into such minute dissection 
 of parts as he attempted. In the meanwhile, the 
 texts which Lachmann treats as the most ancient,* 
 
 * And which I have followed ; Lachmann's edition of Berlin, 
 1826, Lassberg's of 1846, St. Gall and Constance. There is a
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). in 
 
 Holtzendorf declares to be modern. The reader 
 must try to be as little disturbed as possible by 
 this war of the commentators in considering the 
 poem itself. 
 
 The great Greek epic opens with the word which 
 is to serve as its key-note throughout, "Wrath." 
 It leaps as it were at a bound to the summit of its 
 argument, as a song of gods and men, by bringing 
 before us at once the powers of the world above, 
 this one as the inspirer of the singer himself, those 
 as the authors of the dire strife which he has to 
 sing of. Not so the great German epic. Though 
 still more emphatically a ' song of wrath' than the 
 Iliad, it professes to be a mere wonder-tale. It 
 looks around, not above ; invokes no inspiring god- 
 dess, but simply, and in form quite inartistically, 
 addresses itself to a circle of nameless hearers : 
 " In ancient tales many wonders are told us of 
 praiseful heroes. Of travail great, of joy and high- 
 tides, of tears and wailing, of bold knights' battle- 
 strifes, ye may now hear wonders told.* There 
 
 handy school edition of the latter text by Schonhuth, Heilbronn and 
 Leipzig, 1847. It is evident that the division into cantos or 
 ' adventures' (aventiure, the word itself adopted from the French), 
 and even the stanza form occasionally, which mark one or both of 
 these versions, are signs of lateness. 
 
 * The punctuation of these opening sentences must remain quite 
 uncertain, unless we suppose them to form really two separate, 
 alternative openings for the minstrel's use.
 
 112 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 grew up in Burgundland a very noble maid ; in all 
 lands that are nought fairer could be ; Kriemhilt 
 by name. A fair wife she was; for whom must 
 many knights lose their life." Three kings were 
 her brothers, Gunther, Gernot, and young Giselher. 
 They dwelt at Worms by the Rhine, and had 
 heroes in their service ; Hagen of Tronege and his 
 brother Dankwart the swift, marshal of the court ; 
 Ortwin of Metz, Margraves Gere and Eckwart; 
 Volker of Alzeye (afterwards exhibited to us as the 
 'fiddler' or minstrel); Rumolt the 'cook-master', 
 &c. While Kriemhilt is dreaming ominous dreams 
 of a falcon ' strong, fair, and wild', which she brings 
 up for many days, but which two eagles destroy, 
 which her mother Ute (or Vote) tells her means 
 some noble husband, whom she must soon lose, 
 Sifrit, a noble king's son in the Netherlands, whose 
 father was Sigemund (Sigmund) and his mother 
 Sigelint, goes wandering through the world in 
 quest of adventures, famed for valour and comeli- 
 ness. Even before growing to manhood, he has 
 done such wonders that men may sing and tell of 
 them for ever. And now great festivities are cele- 
 brated in his honour by his parents ; a tourney is 
 held, at which lances fly to splinters, and much red 
 gold is lavished away by the queen. The elder 
 sovereigns hand over all their authority to their
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 113 
 
 son, though during the lives of his father and 
 mother he refuses to bear the crown. The young 
 hero hears say how there is a fair maid in Bur- 
 gundy, "shapely to a wish." He speaks to his 
 father and mother of his desire to marry Kriem- 
 hilt ; they assent, but warn him to beware of Gun- 
 ther's men, Hagen especially. He departs with 
 twelve companions only; all their clothing was of 
 red gold ; their horses went even, their shields were 
 new, strong, and broad, and glittering their helms ; 
 sharp were their spears, Sifrit's was full two spans 
 broad. When they reach Worms, Hagen is called 
 in by the kings to say who the strangers are. 
 Looking from a window, he guesses the chief to be 
 Sifrit, the slayer of the Niblungs* and the con- 
 queror of their father's sword Balmung (or Pal- 
 mung) and of all their treasure ; the conqueror also 
 of king Albrich, and the winner of the 'cape of 
 darkness.' Once he bathed himself in a dragon's 
 blood which he had slain, so that no weapon can 
 wound him.f 
 
 * The ' Niblungs', it will be observed, are here treated as quite 
 distinct from the Burgundian kings of Worms. But the whole of 
 this earlier portion of the poem must be considered (as is almost 
 universally the case in such compositions) as being later in point of 
 date than much at least of the remainder. 
 
 t This reference to the legend of the slaying of Fafnir will be 
 noticed. The incidents differ greatly. Sigurd drinks the blood and 
 learns mysteries ; Sifrit bathes in it and becomes invulnerable. 
 
 VOL. r. i
 
 1 14 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 The kings go down to greet the stranger, whom 
 it is deemed wise to treat courteously. Sifrit be- 
 haves himself haughtily at first, requiring the 
 princes to submit to him ; after considerable alter- 
 cation they agree to share with him ; great fes- 
 tivities are celebrated, and Kriemhilt looks out 
 from her window at the handsome stranger, who 
 equally longs to see her, and yet has to remain for 
 a whole year in Gunther's country before doing so. 
 
 Suddenly invasion is threatened by Ludegar of 
 Saxony and Ludegast of Denmark, to Gunther's 
 great disquietude. Sifrit offers to fight the in- 
 vaders ; his offer is of course accepted. He over- 
 comes each in turn. The messengers give account 
 of the battle to Kriemhilt; none has approached 
 Sifrit in bravery. Great festivities are held on the 
 return of the victorious army. Ortwin, a Burgun- 
 dian officer, suggests that for the greater pleasure 
 of the guests the king's sister be brought forth. 
 She appears going forth "as the red morning 
 out of thick clouds" and Sifrit is both glad and 
 sorry. How can it ever come to pass, he thinks, 
 that he should enjoy her love ? if he should dis- 
 please her, death would be a softer fate. The hand 
 of Kriemhilt is eventually made a condition of his 
 accompanying Gunther to Iceland to obtain the 
 hand of "Prunhild" or "Briinhilt" (Brynhild), for
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 115 
 
 which purpose all equip themselves with the utmost 
 splendour, the poet showing the extent of his 
 learning by speaking of the products of Morocco 
 (Marroch), Libya, and Arabia. 
 
 The trials of strength with the young heroine 
 need not probably be dwelt upon at length. Be- 
 tween the two last occurs a marvellous expedition 
 of Sifrit to the land of the Niblungs, to bring back 
 troops for Gunther in order to keep Brimhilt's men 
 in check. Wrapped in his " tarnkappe" (mantle of 
 darkness),* he pushes a ship through the sea by 
 his strength, the shipman thinking it was the wind. 
 At the door of a castle he engages with and over- 
 comes a giant-porter, and then king Albrich the 
 dwarf, whom he has fought before, winning from 
 him the Niblungs' hoard, and has compelled to 
 swear fealty to him. Albrich, the second time 
 overcome, declares that but for his oath he would 
 swear faith to his new victor, and is overjoyed to 
 hear that it is Sifrit himself. On Sifrit's return, 
 his appearance at the head of a thousand men as 
 
 * It will be observed that, after Briinhilt is finally conquered, 
 the ' tarnkappe' is heard of no more. I believe it to be a mere 
 device of later times for avoiding the unfavourable shadow left on 
 Sigurd-Sifrit's character as a hero through his unfaithfulness towards 
 Briinhilt. His ' wishing-rod' and the tales of his childhood, and of 
 his fight with the sons of king Niblung, are evidently also late 
 interpolations, by men who had lost even the meaning of the original 
 legend.
 
 Il6 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 Gunther's vassal tends to give Briinhilt a false idea 
 of his position. At the final trial of strength, by 
 which Sifrit, through the use of the 'tarnkappe', 
 conquers for Gunther the exercise of his marital 
 rights, and the scene of which is shifted to Worms 
 after the king's return, Sifrit takes unluckily from 
 Briinhilt a gold ring and her girdle, and gives them 
 to his wife. Having accomplished this service, and 
 agreed for a division of the country, Sifrit leads his 
 bride back to his own land, where they have a 
 magnificent reception, and the heroes have given 
 to them "richer clothing than they had ever yet 
 worn in all their days." They remain thus twelve 
 years; Kriemhilt has a son called Gunther after 
 his uncle, Briinhilt one named Sifrit after his. 
 Sigelint, Sifrit's mother, dies. Gunther's wife 
 meanwhile, looking upon Sifrit as a mere vassal, 
 begins to think that Kriemhilt holds herself too high, 
 and that Sifrit ought to do suit and service. She 
 persuades Gunther to invite them to Worms, which 
 is accordingly done, the messengers finding Sifrit 
 at the Niblungs' castle, in the march of Norway. 
 After conferring with his friends, Sifrit accepts the 
 invitation, taking with him one thousand men ; 
 Sigmund his father offers to accompany him with 
 one hundred more. Sifrit and Kriemhilt give so 
 much to the messengers that they cannot carry it.
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 117 
 
 They show their presents on their return. " He 
 may well give rings," says Hagen ; " he could not 
 spend his gold though he should live for ever. His 
 hand has grasped the hoard of the Niblungs. 
 Hey! that it could yet come into the land of the 
 Burgundians !" 
 
 Sifrit and Kriemhilt depart then with their 
 father, leaving at home their child; "father and 
 mother saw the child never more." They are re- 
 ceived with all friendliness and hospitality; many 
 a rich dress is made wet with wine. Briinhilt 
 meanwhile thinks that ere long she must ask 
 Kriemhilt why they have so long withheld tribute. 
 But Kriemhilt's pride in her husband precipitates 
 the rupture. She boasts that Sifrit could put all 
 the land at his disposal. Briinhilt declares that 
 this cannot be while Gunther is alive. " Seest 
 thou," says Kriemhilt pointing to her husband, 
 "how he stands? how right masterfully he goes 
 before the knights, as the bright moon before the 
 stars ?" Briinhilt still insists that Gunther must 
 be above Sifrit ; declares that she herself heard 
 Sifrit say that he was Gunther's man, and at last 
 begins to speak about the tribute. Kriemhilt, 
 stung to the quick, determines to shew her supe- 
 riority by taking precedence of Briinhi-lt in going 
 to church. She dresses herself and her maids up
 
 Il8 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 in splendid vestments; thirty kings' wives could 
 not dress themselves as she did ; and when Briin- 
 hilt at the church-door orders her as a vassal to 
 stand back, taunts the queen with having had Sifrit 
 for her first lover, goes into church before her, and 
 ends by showing her the ring and the girdle which 
 he had taken from her. 
 
 Brunhilt in tears makes complaint to Gunther, 
 who reproaches Sifrit for his wife's boasts over a 
 service which should have remained secret. Sifrit 
 protests his innocence, and appeases the king. But 
 Hagen finds Brunhilt weeping, hears her tale, and 
 vows revenge. Ortwin and Gernot plot with him 
 to kill Sifrit, young Giselher alone endeavouring to 
 dissuade them from doing so; the king at last 
 gives in to the plan. False messengers make their 
 appearance, announcing an attack from Ludegar 
 and Ludegast. Sifrit asks them to undertake the 
 adventure with his Netherlanders, leaving his father 
 Sigmund behind. Hagen, who is to accompany 
 him, comes to take leave of Kriemhilt, who recom- 
 mends Sifrit to his care. She is now much vexed 
 at what she has done to Brunhilt; her husband 
 has so thrashed her for it that she could scarcely 
 appease him ; well has he avenged it, " the hero 
 bold and good." Hagen hypocritically asks how 
 he may look after Sifrit's welfare. She then tells
 
 ('NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 119 
 
 him that when he slew the dragon on the mountain 
 and bathed himself in the blood, so as to become 
 invulnerable, a broad linden-leaf stuck between his 
 shoulders, there he can be struck with effect. 
 Hagen treacherously suggests to her that she 
 should sew on her husband's dress a small sign, 
 that he may know from what quarter he needs pro- 
 tection, and she promises to put on Sifrit's dress 
 a silken cross to mark the spot. 
 
 Hagen seems now to see his way clearly to the 
 plotted revenge. News comes of a sham peace 
 after the sham invasion, and Hagen suggests a 
 hunting party, which Sifrit accepts. He parts with 
 forebodings from his wife, " his darling," kissing her 
 on the mouth ; " God grant me, lady, to see thee 
 again safe and sound." Kriemhilt thinks of what 
 she has imprudently told Hagen, she weeps be- 
 yond measure, and entreats Sifrit not to go, lest 
 there should be treachery. He replies that he 
 knows of no enemies there who can bear him ill- 
 will. She continues her entreaties, telling him of 
 the evil dreams she has had. But he will not be 
 persuaded. " He clasped her in his arms, the wife 
 rich in virtue ; with loving kisses he comforted her 
 fair body; with her leave he then departed in a 
 short time ; alas, she never saw him more safe and 
 sound." The poet dwells at length on the details
 
 120 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 of the hunt, and on Sifrit's exploits, which end by 
 his binding a live bear upon his horse, and finally 
 killing him. They sit down to eat ; Sifrit, " in all 
 his virtues free from all falseness," reproaches 
 Hagen with not having provided wine for them. 
 Hagen says he knows of a cool spring, and offers 
 to shew the way. They proceed thither, and Hagen 
 and Sifrit race to it in their shirts. Sifrit reaches 
 first, but out of courtesy will not drink before the 
 king; ill thanks he got, for as he drank Hagen 
 shot him from behind through the silken cross of 
 Kriemhilt. Sifrit's heart's blood spirts out on 
 Hagen. He finds nothing at hand to avenge him- 
 self with but his shield. With this he strikes 
 Hagen down, with such a stroke that the gems 
 fly out, and the shield splits ; he would have killed 
 him, had he but a sword. But his strength failed 
 him ; Kriemhilt's husband " fell among the flowers," 
 the blood running fast from his wounds. Gunther 
 bewails his death; "grim Hagen" cannot under- 
 stand why the king should weep, since all their 
 sorrow and pain is at an end. Sifrit reproaches 
 them with their treachery; little would Hagen have 
 to boast of, had Sifrit known his murderous habit ; 
 struggling bitterly with death, he tells him that 
 they will rue this day hereafter ; yet recommends 
 his wife to him ; " nought rue I so sore," he says,
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 121 
 
 " as lady Kriemhilt my wife." The flowers on all 
 sides are wet with blood through his death-wrestle. 
 They put the body on a golden shield, and de- 
 termine to conceal Hagen's treachery. In one 
 version, the poet ends the canto by fixing the 
 scene of the murder at Otenhaim in the Otenwald. 
 Sifrit's dead body has been placed at Kriem- 
 hilt's door. A chamberlain finds it without recog- 
 nizing it. But Kriemhilt, before ever she discovers 
 that it was her husband, begins weeping out of 
 measure, thinking of Hagen's questioning. In vain 
 her companions try to quiet her, telling her the 
 murdered man is only some guest. "The blood 
 burst from her mouth through her heart-anguish. 
 She said, ' It is Sifrit, my well-beloved husband, 
 this is Brianhilt's counsel, this is Hagen's deed.' " 
 When she was shown the knight, "she lifted his 
 comely head with her white hand ;" red though it 
 were with blood, she recognized it. She sees that 
 his shield is not hacked with sword-cuts. "Thou 
 liest murdered," she exclaims, "and could I but 
 know who did it, I would ever plan his death." 
 She desires that Sifrit's men and Sigmund be 
 awakened. Sigmund has not slept; "his heart 
 told him what had happened to him, that he should 
 see Sifrit no more." They bid him rise and go to 
 lady Kriemhilt. He springs from his bed with one
 
 122 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 hundred of his men, who seize their sharp long 
 weapons. Kriemhilt clasps her father-in-law in her 
 arms; the whole town of Worms resounds with 
 their weeping; the Niblungs rush to arms to 
 avenge the murder. Kriemhilt however, in the 
 midst of her need and anguish, sees the danger of 
 a conflict, and warns them not to rush on their 
 death. Noble burghers come to wait with the 
 guests, with them good burghers' wives. Smiths 
 are bid make a corfin of " noble marble stone, full 
 mickle and strong." Sifrit is carried to the min- 
 ster, the bells ring, the priests sing. Gunther 
 comes with his men, " with him grim Hagen," and 
 declares that no harm has befallen Sifrit from his 
 men ; but the wounds begin to bleed when Hagen 
 passes before the body. Gernot and Giselher 
 however bewail the dead in all sincerity; their 
 eyes become " wet-blind." After the mass Kriem- 
 hilt lets the body dwell yet three days and three 
 nights ; many men remain without eating or drink- 
 ing ; great alms are given to the poor, to the value 
 of many thousand marks. As they finally bear 
 the corpse to the grave, Kriemhilt's " faithful body" 
 is wrung with such anguish that they have to 
 sprinkle her "very thick" with water; a great 
 wonder it was that she ever recovered. She begs 
 to see once more Sifrit's " comely head," and begs
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 123 
 
 so long that they break up again the costly coffin. 
 They brought the lady to where she found him lying. 
 " She heaved his comely head with her very white 
 hands, and kissed him thus dead, the good noble 
 knight; her very bright eyes wept blood for grief;" 
 full of anguish was the parting which then took 
 place. They bore the lady thence, she could not 
 go ; senseless they found her, the lordly woman ; 
 for grief her winsome body was like to die. The 
 whole day and night, till the next day, she under- 
 stood not what was said ; for three days long she 
 neither ate nor drank. In the same need lay the 
 lord Sigmund. 
 
 But his men said to Sigmund, We must go to 
 our land, we may not remain here longer. He 
 comes to tell Kriemhilt that they must leave ; she 
 will have all the power that Sifrit had ; all Sifrit's 
 men will gladly obey her. On the other hand, 
 her friends at Worms, her mother, the lady Ute, 
 her brother Giselher, entreat her to remain. At 
 first she resists their entreaties, saying she must die 
 for grief if she should see Hagen. Eventually how- 
 ever, at the moment of the Niblungs' departure, she 
 determines to remain. Giselher escorts king Sig- 
 mund carefully back to the Netherlands. Only 
 Count Eckwart remains behind with his men ; " he 
 served his lady with all his will till his death."
 
 124 
 
 She makes her a wooden chamber at Worms by 
 the minster, where she spends much of her time. 
 So sat she in her grief for four and a-half years, 
 speaking never a word to her brother Gunther, nor 
 seeing her foe Hagen. 
 
 Hagen now suggests that by means of Kriem- 
 hilt they may get possession of the Niblung 
 treasure. Yielding at last to Gernot's urging, she 
 has the hoard, her " morgengabe" (gift of the wed- 
 ding morrow) brought from the land of the Nib- 
 lungs. But she only uses it to distribute such gifts 
 to rich and poor that many are won to her service, 
 and her brothers feel anxious as to her purpose. 
 Hagen undertakes to get possession of the treasure, 
 and does so, much to the indignation of Gernot. 
 They swear mutually neither to show nor give 
 away the treasure but by common consent, but 
 Hagen gets sole possession, and sinks it all in the 
 Rhine. Kriemhilt continues in her sorrow till the 
 twelfth year, but eventually, at her mother's in- 
 stance, leaves her retreat to live with the latter. 
 
 It befell in those days that the lady Helche, 
 Etzel's wife, died, and that king Etzel sought to 
 marry again. His friends urged him to ask Kriem- 
 hilt in marriage, " a noble wife, the highest and the 
 best that ever king won." 'How can it be,' he 
 asks, 'since I am a heathen unbaptized, and the
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 125 
 
 lady a Christian ?' Good Margrave Rudeger of 
 Bechlar says he has known from childhood the 
 queen and Gunther, Gernot and Giselher. Etzel 
 offers him rich presents if he will obtain the lady's 
 hand for him. Rudeger declines his presents, but 
 is willing to be his messenger at his own expense, 
 and starts with five hundred men, visiting on the 
 way at Bechlar his wife Gotelint, and his daughter, 
 sometimes called Dietelind. They ride through 
 Bavaria, "seldom" attacked by robbers, and enter 
 Worms in great splendour. Hagen is sent to 
 ascertain who they are, and recognizes Rudeger. 
 They are most courteously received ; on Rudeger's 
 setting forth the object of his embassy, Gunther 
 asks seven days' delay before giving an answer. 
 He summons a council ; all are of opinion, Hagen 
 alone excepted, that Kriemhilt should marry Etzel. 
 Hagen declares that if she ever bear Helche's 
 crown, she will do harm to the Burgundians. 
 Giselher is wroth with him ; if the marriage be for 
 her good they should rejoice at it. Gernot and 
 Giselher go and entreat Kriemhilt to consent to 
 the marriage, but fail to persuade her, the " rich in 
 sorrow;" for the "many virtues" of Rudeger she 
 however agrees to receive the messengers, who wait 
 upon her the next morning, attired in their best. 
 She receives them in her every-day dress, " all wet
 
 126 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 at the breast with hot tears." Rudeger delivers his 
 message. She will be lady of twelve rich crowns, 
 rule the lands of thirty princes. She promises a 
 reply the next day. Giselher and her mother 
 both advise her to go. She prays " the rich God to 
 fashion her counsel." She, a Christian woman, 
 shall she give her body to a heathen ? She finds 
 somewhat to rely upon in the assurance given to 
 her by Rudeger and confirmed by his oath, that he 
 and his men shall be faithful to her, and shall 
 avenge her of all injuries. She begins to think, if 
 the power of Etzel be so great, she may do her 
 will. His heathenism is however the sticking 
 point. Rudeger assures her that "he is not quite 
 a heathen ;" he has many Christian knights ; she 
 will easily be able to turn him to God. At last, at 
 her brother's renewed urging, she yields. 
 
 She had still some of the Niblungs' gold, which 
 she prepares to distribute or take with her; "she 
 wanted to make rich all Rudeger's men." Hagen 
 hears of it, and resolves to prevent the treasure 
 from going. He knows well what Kriemhilt does 
 with this treasure ; if she were to bear it hence, she 
 would only divide it in hatred to him. Kriemhilt 
 learns this with " grim sorrow." Rudeger bids her 
 never grieve for the gold; Etzel will give her so 
 much wealth that she will never be able to dis-
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 127 
 
 tribute it. They fill in haste twelve chests with 
 gold to carry away; she spends one thousand 
 marks in masses for her husband's soul before 
 leaving. Eckwart with five hundred men remains 
 in her service; she takes with her one hundred 
 "rich maids." Giselher with Gernot and one 
 thousand knights accompany her some way, and 
 on taking leave the former reminds his sister that 
 if ever she wants him he will come to her aid. 
 
 The journey to Etzel's capital is lengthily de- 
 scribed. They cross Bavaria, resting at Passau, 
 with Bishop Pilgrin, Kriemhilt's uncle. Gotelint, 
 Rudeger's wife, comes to meet them. "Enough 
 out of Bavaria would have taken plunder on the 
 roads, according to their custom ; so might they 
 perhaps have done harm to the guests. That was 
 well understood by the lord Margrave ; he led one 
 thousand knights, and yet more." When they 
 met, "the service of the knight was not unpleasing 
 to the queen." Feasts are held ; Kriemhilt makes 
 presents to Rudeger's wife and daughters, regret- 
 ting that she is not able to do more. The young 
 princess is much attracted toward her, and offers 
 to come to her in the Huns' land. The bishop 
 takes leave of his niece, expressing the hope that 
 she may be as virtuous as Helche her prede- 
 cessor.
 
 128 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 Meanwhile all the Christian and heathen knights 
 of Etzel's court troop to meet her. " Of Russians 
 and of Greeks rode there many a man ;" Polanders 
 and Wallacks went together on a line, riding their 
 good chargers with their wonted horsecraft ; " the 
 wild Pescenare" (?) shot birds flying with their 
 bows. Before Etzel the rich rode four-and-twenty 
 princes; Duke Ramunk of Wallackland with seven 
 hundred men (as flying birds they passed) ; Prince 
 Gibeke with his lordly troop ; Hornboge the 
 swift ; bold Hawart of Denmark ; Irinc the swift ; 
 Irnfrit of Thuringen ; the lord Blodel, Etzel's bro- 
 ther; lastly Etzel himself with Dietrich. The 
 queen's mood was "well lifted" by the sight. She 
 greets her new husband with a kiss, and is led by 
 him to kiss twelve others. All proclaim that the 
 lady Helche could not be fairer. Jousting takes 
 place; Kriemhilt sits beside Etzel; "what they 
 said to each other," observes the poet, "I do not 
 know, save that her white hand was between his 
 two, and lovingly they sate." She proceeds to 
 Vienna, and on Whitsunday king Etzel obtains 
 fulfilment of all his desires. Sifrit had not so many 
 nobles as the queen sees around her, nor did he 
 give away so many rich mantles, nor such good 
 clothes. The knights followed the example of their 
 lord, and many a knight remained "quite without
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 129 
 
 clothes through his generosity."* From the city 
 they proceed to Etzel's castle, where Helche's wo- 
 men, seven kings' daughters, with Herrat, Helche's 
 sister's daughter and Dietrich's wife, await their 
 new mistress. 
 
 In such high honour dwelt they till the seventh 
 year. The queen has a son, who is baptized and 
 named Ortlieb. So it goes on till the thirteenth 
 year. Kriemhilt has been measuring her power. 
 She has well ascertained that none opposes her, 
 and that twelve kings are at all times at her com- 
 mand. She thinks of many a woe which she had 
 endured in her first home ; of the great honours 
 which she had had from the Niblungs' land, and 
 of which, through Sifrit's death, Hagen's hand has 
 deprived her. She wishes that she might bring 
 him into the country. She dreams of her brother 
 Giselher, and kisses him in her sleep ; " I ween the 
 evil Wayland suggested this to Kriemhilt." It lies 
 on her heart, early and late, how without fault on 
 her part she has been brought to this, that she 
 should love a heathen man. This was the doing of 
 Hagen and Gunther. Every day she desires to be 
 revenged on them for this. She is now so mighty, 
 she thinks, that, let who may be offended, she is 
 
 * Von milte bloz ane cleit. The use of the word 'milte, 1 
 mildness, in the sense of liberality, is characteristic of the age. 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 able to do harm to her foes. She is always think- 
 ing of asking the king to bring her friends into the 
 Huns' land. One night, as she lies clasped in his 
 arms, she prefers her request, which the king will- 
 ingly grants. 
 
 Etzel sends Werbel and Swemmel, his two 
 minstrels literally, fiddlers as messengers, with 
 twenty-four men as an escort. Gunther and his 
 friends are to be invited to a festival. The queen 
 specially charges the messengers privately to men- 
 tion to no one that they have ever seen her troubled 
 in mind. They are to say she is afraid that the 
 Huns will deem her destitute of friends ; were she 
 a knight, she would go herself. Let them bring all 
 their best friends. If Hagen of Tronege wishes to 
 remain behind, ask who will shew them through the 
 land ; he knows from a child the way to the Huns.* 
 
 The messengers accomplish their journey in 
 twelve days without accident. "Their silver and 
 their clothes no man took from them ; men feared 
 their lord's hatred; for the noble well-born king 
 was very mighty." The fiddler-envoys are nobly 
 received, and deliver their message. Gunther bids 
 them go to the hostelry, and calls his friends to- 
 
 * This is one of the passages which imply the legend contained 
 in 'Walthar of Aquitain', where Hagen is represented as a fellow 
 hostage with Walther at Etzel's court.
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 131 
 
 gather to counsel. The best advise him to go, 
 all but Hagen alone: to him it was "grim loath." 
 "Ye know," he tells them, "what we have done. 
 We must always beware of Kriemhilt. Since I 
 slew her husband to death with my hand, how 
 durst we ride into Etzel's country ?" They may 
 lose there both honour and life. It were ill done, 
 says Gernot, to forbear seeing their sister, because 
 Hagen being guilty is afraid of death. Since 
 Hagen feels guilty, says Giselher, he may remain 
 behind and take care of himself. Hagen, enraged 
 by the taunt, declares that none shall scare him 
 from undertaking the journey. In vain Rumolt 
 the master-cook in turn advises them to remain ; 
 where can they ever be better than where they 
 are ? have they not food enough, the best that ever 
 was ? As they will not follow his counsel in re- 
 maining, Hagen advises them at least to go in 
 force. To this Gunther agrees ; one thousand 
 heroes, selected by Hagen out of three thou- 
 sand, are to follow him ; Hagen and his brother 
 Dankwart will take eighty, others in proportion. 
 Amongst others comes a personage of whom much 
 will be seen hereafter, Volker, "a noble player," 
 with thirty knights ; " he was called the player be- 
 cause he could fiddle." Meanwhile the Huns' mes- 
 sengers are sore annoyed at not receiving their
 
 132 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 congt, another device of Hagen's, who bids the 
 lords beware lest they let the envoys depart before 
 they are ready themselves to leave, so that Kriem- 
 hilt should not have time to contrive any mischief 
 before their arrival. 
 
 By the time that many brave knights are ready 
 to start, the messengers receive their dismissal. 
 Great presents are bestowed on them, but they 
 declare that their lord has forbidden them to re- 
 ceive any ; at which Gunther is sore troubled. 
 They have an interview with the queen-mother 
 Ute, but none with Brunhild, and make haste 
 back, giving news of the speedy arrival of the 
 Burgundians to bishop Pilgrin and to Rudeger. 
 They meet Etzel at Gran, who flushes red with joy 
 at the news of the coming of his wife's friends. 
 The queen is profuse in her liberalities to the mes- 
 sengers. She asks what said Hagen. " He came 
 one morning early," said the messengers ; " few 
 good words did he speak. When they praised the 
 journey hither to Hunland, grim Hagen called it 
 a journey to death." The queen declares she 
 will stand pledge for Hagen, that good hero ; her 
 heart is lifted up at the thought of seeing him. 
 Quarters are prepared for the beloved guests. 
 
 Never did highminded heroes go forth so lord- 
 like into any king's land as the Burgundians. Yet
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 133 
 
 ill omens beset them. The old bishop of Spire talks 
 with fair lady Ute : ' Our friends,' he says, ' mean 
 to go to the festival ; may God preserve them 
 there !' The noble Ute speaks to her children. 
 ' Ye should remain here, good heroes,' she says ; 
 ' I have dreamed of need and anguish, and that all 
 the birds in this land were dead.' Hagen affects 
 to make light of her dreams. They depart ; Ru- 
 molt in sorrow asks to whom they leave the 
 people and the land ? " To thee" (Gunther re- 
 plies) " be the land commended, and also my little 
 child, and serve thou well the ladies, that is my 
 will ; whomsoever thou seest weep, him comfort ; 
 never will king Etzel's wife do us harm." Passing 
 through East Franconia, on the twelfth morning 
 they reach the Danube.* The waters were swollen, 
 so that they could not see their expected ships. 
 Hagen forebodes evil through the rising of the 
 waters and the strength of the current ; many good 
 heroes, he weens, will they lose this day. The 
 king entreats him, through his own virtues, to dis- 
 courage them no more. Hagen declares that his 
 life is not so loathly to him as that he should wish 
 
 * The term "Niblung" is here used three times in five stanzas 
 (1463, 1466, and 1467 of Lachmann's text, 1553, 1556, and 1557 of 
 Lassberg's), apparently to designate the Burgundians, This occurs 
 from henceforth several times again, evidently showing that the 
 poem in its present state is put together out of two different legends.
 
 134 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 to drown himself; before that, many a man shall 
 die by his hands in Etzel's country. He under- 
 takes to go in search of a ferryman to carry them 
 over to Gelpfrat's land. 
 
 Searching up and down on the banks, well 
 armed with shield and two-edged sword, he sees 
 "wise* women" bathing in a fair fountain, and 
 seizes their clothes (" the hero did them no further 
 harm"). " Then spoke the one merwife, Hadeburc 
 by name : ' Noble knight Hagen, if you will give us 
 back our clothes, we will make known to you how 
 ye shall accomplish your journey to the court of 
 the Huns.'" As she spoke, "they floated like the 
 birds before him on the flood." She tells him they 
 may well go to Etzel's land, for never heroes 
 reached such honour as they will. He now gives 
 them back " their wondrous apparel," and they tell 
 him the way to Etzel's court. Then spoke the 
 other merwife, who was called Sigelint she warns 
 him that her companion " for love of her clothes 
 hath lied to him." If he go hence to the Huns, he 
 is sore deceived. Those who do so " have death in 
 their hand." Hagen tells them they are deceiving 
 him; they cannot all remain dead in Hunland. 
 One of the merwives says then that the king's 
 
 * Mr. Carlyle translates "white." It would be but the dif- 
 ference of a letter. But the reading of both the old texts is "wise."
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 135 
 
 chaplain alone will return in safety. "In grim 
 mood spoke then the bold Hagen : 'That were 
 a weary tale to tell to my lord, that we are all to 
 lose our lives to the Huns. Yet show us over the 
 water, thou all-wise woman.'" Since he will not 
 take counsel respecting the journey, says she, there 
 is a house over by the water where there is a ferry- 
 man, and nowhere else ; but he should beware of 
 the latter, as well as of the knight Gelpfrat, a 
 Bavarian lord. If the ferryman will not come, let 
 them call over the stream the name of Amelrich, 
 that of a "good hero" who left the country on 
 account of his enemies, and the ferryman will then 
 come. 
 
 Hagen follows the stream till he sees the house 
 indicated on the other side. He cries out to the 
 ferryman that if he will ferry him over he will give 
 him a pouch of red gold. But the ferryman was 
 so rich, and his servants were so proud, that they 
 would not come. Then cried Hagen, " Now take 
 me, I am Amelrich." The proud ferryman himself 
 takes the rudder and hastens over, but is very 
 wroth when he sees that his fare is not Amelrich. 
 Hagen thanks him, and offers him his pay. The 
 ferryman declares he has orders from his lord 
 to bring over no stranger. Hagen says his heart 
 is sorrowful ; " take from me for love this good
 
 136 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 gold, and ferry us over, one thousand horse and 
 also many men." It can never be, said the " grim 
 ferryman." He had a strong rudder (or oar) 
 " mickle and broad ;" with it he smote Hagen who 
 was unprepared, and brought him to his knees. 
 Hagen is very wroth, and cuts off his head. 
 
 He now goes back to his party, who are as- 
 tonished to see the blood reeking in the boat. 
 Gunther fears lest he should have killed the ferry- 
 man. Hagen lies to him, declaring he has seen 
 no ferryman, hurt no one ; he is himself the best 
 ferryman by the Rhine's side, and will bring them 
 over. He takes over first one thousand knights, 
 then nine thousand servitors. As he was bringing 
 some over, including the king's chaplain, he thought 
 of the strange tale of the wild merwife, and sud- 
 denly flings the chaplain out of the ship, much 
 to Giselher's anger. Gernot declares that were 
 it any one else who had done the deed he should 
 suffer for it. The priest swims for his life, none 
 daring to help him, Hagen even pushing him down ; 
 but though he knew not how to swim, God's hand 
 helped him, and he reached the land. " There 
 stood the poor priest, and shook his clothes." Then 
 Hagen saw that the wild merwife had told him 
 true. After they had unladed the boat, he breaks 
 it up, and flings the pieces into the stream. Dank-
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 137 
 
 wart, his brother, asks him how they are now to 
 get back ? Hagen replies that he does it that 
 none may think to escape. 
 
 (The wild beauty of this passage over the Rhine 
 must, I think, strike every one. The merwives 
 and their prophecy, the meeting with the ferry- 
 man, Hagen's unwonted forbearance with him, 
 his sudden impulse to test the truth of the mer- 
 wives by the attempted murder of the poor chaplain, 
 the escape of the latter, the breaking up of 
 the boat, form a series of vivid scenes, such as 
 Shakspeare himself might have painted them, yet 
 all overhung by the weight of an approaching 
 doom.) 
 
 They are all out of the boat. Who shall guide 
 them ? asks the king. Hagen now tells them that 
 they will never return, that two merwives told him 
 so that morning ; that he sought in vain to detect 
 the wild merwife in a lie by drowning the chaplain. 
 He also tells of the ferryman's death, and bids 
 them beware of Gelpfrat's and his brother Else's 
 revenge for it, and advises them to descend from 
 horseback so as to go more softly. Volker " the 
 swift fiddler" is chosen for their guide, as knowing 
 already the country. For all their precautions, 
 Gelpfrat and Else come up with seven hundred 
 men and more, and meet Hagen and his brother
 
 138 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 Dankwart with sixty men who were before. Hagen 
 relates the circumstances of the ferryman's death, 
 and offers any atonement for it. It is refused, and 
 a conflict takes place. Hagen, engaged in single 
 combat with Gelpfrat, is sore pressed, and calls 
 for aid to his brother, who was engaged with Else ; 
 Dankwart springs to his assistance, and deals 
 Gelpfrat a deadly blow, when Else, already wounded, 
 orders a retreat. The dead are reckoned up ; 
 Hagen has lost four men, the Bavarians a hundred 
 or more. 
 
 So on to Passau, where Bishop Pilgrin receives 
 them hospitably, and where they remain all day. 
 They then make their way into Rudeger's land, 
 where Hagen finds Eckwart asleep, and takes 
 from him his arms, but restores them with a pre- 
 sent on his mentioning Rudeger's name. Eckwart 
 warns them to be on their guard, on account of 
 Sifrit's death. Hagen asks for lodgings, but only 
 for the king and his men, as the horses have all 
 perished through the hardness of the roads, and 
 their provisions have run short. Eckwart promises 
 them all hospitality from Rudeger, " the best host 
 that ever came to house ;" as the sweet May fills 
 the grass with blossoms, so glad of heart is he 
 when he can serve heroes. Eckwart therfore under- 
 takes to be their messenger towards Rudeger.
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 139 
 
 Rudeger hears the message " with laughing mouth," 
 and promises his hospitality. When told that he 
 will have to entertain sixty brave chiefs, a thousand 
 good knights, and nine thousand squires, he is all 
 the more overjoyed, and gives immediate directions 
 for their reception, which he announces to the lady 
 Gotelint, who as yet knew nothing. " Well-be- 
 loved darling," said then Rudeger, "you should 
 
 full well receive the noble kings here You 
 
 should also fairly greet Hagen, Gunther's man ; 
 with him comes also one that is called Dankwart ; 
 
 the other is called Volker These six shall 
 
 ye kiss, you and my daughter." The ladies ac- 
 cordingly bestir themselves, take rich garments 
 out of chests, and make every preparation. 
 
 Rudeger goes out to receive his guests, whom 
 he greets in the most friendly manner, undertaking 
 to provide for the men, and to protect all their 
 goods, not so much as half a spur shall be lost. 
 The margravine appears before the door with her 
 fair daughter, and many a fair maid in splendid 
 garments covered with precious stones ; six-and- 
 thirty maids there were, and other women, fair 
 to a wish. The young margravine kisses the three 
 kings, her mother following her. Hagen too stood 
 by; her father bade her kiss him. She looked 
 then upon him, and he seemed to her so grewsome
 
 140 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 that she had fain passed him by. Yet she must 
 needs do her bidding; but as she did it "mixed 
 was her colour, pale and red" at once. She kissed 
 also Dankwart, afterwards the player. The young 
 margravine now takes Giselher in by the hand ; 
 her mother does the same by Gunther; Rudeger 
 leads in Gernot. Good wine is served ; never could 
 heroes be better treated. Rudeger's daughter at- 
 tracts the gaze of all by her good looks. 
 
 The next passage is curious, as showing the 
 early Teutonic existence of a social (or unsocial) 
 habit that separates us yet from all Latin nations. 
 "After the custom they parted from one another, 
 the knights and ladies ; they went elsewhere." 
 But the guests were troubled to see the ladies no 
 longer, and when all had eaten their full cheer, the 
 fair ones were shown back into the hall. Volker 
 praised the margrave's good fortune. " Were I 
 a prince," said the player, " did I wear a crown, 
 I would have your fair daughter to wife." " How 
 should a king ever desire my dear daughter ?" 
 replied Rudeger ; " we are both poor, I and my 
 wife, and have nought to give her ; what boots 
 then her fair body ?" " Ye should leave this talk," 
 said the lord Gernot ; " could I have to wife a 
 darling to my will, I should be always joyous with 
 such a wife." Hagen now suggests a match between
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 141 
 
 Giselher and the princess. The proposal is agreed 
 to ; the kings endow her with castles and lands ; 
 the margrave, having no land to give, promises 
 silver and gold. According to custom they make 
 the fair ones stand in a ring ; they begin to ask 
 the fair maid if she will have the chief. Partly 
 was she loth, and yet thought to take him ; " she 
 was ashamed of the question, as many a maid has 
 been." Her father Rudeger bids her say yes, and 
 agrees to give her over on their return from Etzel's 
 court ; after which the guests are dismissed to 
 sleep. 
 
 They are entertained again in the morning ; 
 but when about to start, the noble host warns them 
 not to go to the Huns' land, but to stay with him ; 
 seldom has he had such agreeable guests. Dank- 
 wart declares it is impossible ; asks, somewhat 
 bluntly, where he will find bread and wine for so 
 many men ? Rudeger is distressed beyond measure 
 by the question ; he declares that he can fully 
 supply all their wants for fourteen nights. Event- 
 ually they have to tarry till the fourth morning. 
 Rudeger bestows on them at parting weapons and 
 clothes ; whatever any one wished to take, that 
 he refused to no one. To Giselher he has given 
 his daughter ; to Gunther he gives a suit of armour ; 
 to Gernot a ' weapon good enough' (ein waffen guot
 
 142 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 genuoc) ; by which afterwards Rudeger himself 
 lost his life. The margravine offers her gifts to 
 Hagen. He wishes for nought " but yon shield, 
 hanging there on the wall ;" that would he gladly 
 bear with him to the Huns' land. The shield is to 
 the margravine a memento of a past bereavement ; 
 it was that of Nuodung " whom Witege slew" (an 
 allusion which the Vilkina Saga explains by con- 
 necting Nuodung with Dietrich's warfare against 
 Hermanric). Yet she takes it down with her own 
 white hands and gives it to Hagen ; better shield 
 never lit up the day with precious stones ; it was 
 worth full 1000 marks. Dankwart in like manner 
 receives rich garments from the princess. It came 
 not in their minds, says the poet, that hereafter 
 they should be such enemies to their host, that 
 they should slay him dead. Volker comes last 
 with his fiddle, and stands before Gotelint ; he 
 fiddles sweet tunes, and sings to her his lay of 
 leave-taking, the queen giving him " a load of 
 friendly gifts." 
 
 Rudeger now announces his intention of ac- 
 companying himself his guests to Etzel's land, and 
 starts with five hundred men on horseback. They 
 part with kisses. Giselher did as his virtue coun- 
 selled him. With clasped arms the knights com- 
 forted their fair wives. Many a window was
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 143 
 
 unclosed and thrown full open to see them depart. 
 Yet rode they forth with joy, over the sands down 
 by the Danube, as far as the Huns' land. Messen- 
 gers go forth through Austria, announcing that 
 " the Niblungs"* are come to the Huns. When the 
 king announces the news to his wife, her heaviness 
 begins in part to yield. She thinks of having 
 revenge on Hagen. 
 
 When the Burgundians (in later texts " the Nib- 
 lungs") come into the land, Dietrich and Wolfhart 
 are sent to meet them. Hagen rides ahead of the 
 guests. When the lord Dietrich saw them, he 
 was both lieve and loth. He knew the tale ; their 
 coming was loth to him. ' Be welcome,' he said, 
 ' lord Gunther, Gernot and Giselher, Hagen and 
 Dankwart, with you also Volker. .... My lady 
 Kriemhilt yet weeps sore for the hero of Niblung- 
 land. She may well weep long,' answers Hagen ; 
 ' it is many years since he was slain. The king 
 of the Huns whom she hath taken to husband, 
 he it is whom she should now love. Sifrit comes 
 no more ; he has been now long buried.' ' Whilst 
 my lady Kriemhilt lives,' said he of Bern, ' evil 
 may yet befall. Trust of the Niblungs, be thou 
 ware.' The chiefs draw him apart, and ask of him 
 
 * Observe this term again stanza 1653 (Lachmann). It occurs 
 equally in stanzas 1664, 1675.
 
 144 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 further particulars. How does he know the lady 
 Kriemhilt's mind ? Then spoke the prince* of 
 Bern : ' What shall I say now ? every morning 
 early I hear her, Etzel's wife, weep and wail full 
 sadly to the God of heaven, for strong Sifrit's 
 body.' 
 
 They ride to the court. Many brave Huns 
 crowd round Hagen, to see how he is made. 
 They tell of him that he slew Sifrit of the Nether- 
 lands, strongest of all chiefs, Kriemhilt's husband. 
 Well grown was the hero (Hagen), big in the 
 chest, his hair mixed with grey, his legs long, his 
 gait lordly. The queen has the guests from Rhine- 
 land separated in their quarters (so that afterwards 
 they slew the squires at their lodgings). In re- 
 ceiving the Niblungs (sic] she kisses Giselher and 
 takes him by the hand (i.e, him alone). Hagen 
 sees it, and binds his helmet all the faster. The 
 queen asks him what they have brought her from 
 Worms, over the Rhine ? Hagen retorts that she 
 is so rich, that he should never have brought gifts 
 to her. She insists : ' The hoard of the Niblungs, 
 what have ye done with it ? It was my own, as ye 
 well know. Ye should have brought it to me hither 
 in Etzel's land.' Hagen answers that " my lords" 
 
 * Vogt, i. e. bailiff. The Italian march or frontier was entrusted 
 to Dietrich's keeping.
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 145 
 
 ordered it to be sunk in the Rhine : there it must 
 be till the day of judgment. How could he bring 
 it ? He has much to carry, his hauberk, his 
 shield, his helmet bright, this sword in his hands. 
 The lady now announces that none is to bring 
 arms into the hall ; they must give up to her their 
 weapons; she will have them kept. Hagen de- 
 clares it cannot be : "I desire not the honour, 
 bounteous daughter of princes, that you should 
 bear to the hostelry my shield and my other ac- 
 coutrements. You are a queen. My father did not 
 teach me so. I will myself be chamberman." 
 ' Woe is me,' exclaims Kriemhilt, ' my brother and 
 Hagen are warned ! could I know who did this, I 
 would ever plot his death.' In anger replied the 
 lord Dietrich : ' I am he that warned the noble 
 princes, and Hagen the bold.' Sorely ashamed 
 was Etzel's wife, for bitterly she feared Dietrich ; 
 she went from thence and spoke no more, but cast 
 swift glances at her foes. 
 
 Dietrich and Hagen speak together, Dietrich 
 lamenting the coming of the Burgundians. Etzel 
 sees them, and asks who is the chief whom the 
 lord Dietrich is greeting with such friendship. 
 One of Kriemhilt's men answers, ' He is born of 
 Tronege, his father was called Aldrian, he is a 
 grim man.' Etzel then (it would seem, although 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 the text seems defective in not indicating the 
 change of speaker) says he knew well Aldrian, 
 who was his " man", and won with him great 
 praise and honour. " I made him knight," he 
 says, " and gave him my gold." ' Helche the true 
 had him in great affection. He was my prisoner, 
 he and " Walther of Spain." Here they grew up 
 into men. Hagen I sent home again ; Walther 
 with Hildegund ran away.' The king is rejoiced 
 to see one who did him such service in his youth. 
 (This is the remarkable passage which directly 
 connects the Nibelungen cycle with the Latin 
 poem of 'Walthar of Aquitain', having for sub- 
 ject, it will be recollected, the flight of Walther 
 with Hildegund from Etzel's court, and exhibiting 
 Hagen as intimate with the former.) 
 
 Hagen and Dietrich separate. Hagen looks 
 over his shoulder for a companion. He sees Vol- 
 ker the brave fiddler, and asks him to go with 
 him. They leave the court, and sit outside the 
 palace, opposite a hall where sate Kriemhilt on 
 a bench below, her queenly garments all glitter- 
 ing upon her. She sees them through a window ; 
 she is sore troubled and begins to weep. Etzel's 
 men wonder ; who can have thus troubled her ? 
 ' It is Hagen,' she replies. ' Lady mistress, how 
 has this happened ? we saw you lately full of
 
 ('NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 147 
 
 gladness. Whoever has done this, it shall cost 
 him his life.' " I lay myself at your feet," said 
 the king's wife ; " avenge me of Hagen, so that 
 he lose his life." Full sixty brave men are ready 
 to slay Hagen and the fiddler. But the queen, 
 seeing so small a troop, in grim mood dissuades 
 them from the attempt. So few could never with- 
 stand Hagen ; and however strong and brave be 
 he of Tronege, yet far stronger is he that sits by, 
 Volker the fiddler. More than four hundred men 
 gather round her. She yet bids them be still 
 awhile ; she will go with them herself against her 
 foes. 
 
 She descends to meet them ; the fiddler sees 
 her come down, and warns Hagen. Never did he 
 see with a queen so many men with sword in hand, 
 going in such warlike fashion ; they should be on 
 their guard. Hagen answers wrathfully, ' I know 
 well that all this is done for me.' But will Volker 
 stand by him ? if he will, Hagen will be always faith- 
 fully at his service. Volker assures him of his help ; 
 though there come out against them the king with 
 all his chiefs, he would not yield a foot for fear 
 of them. But they should at least stand up from 
 their seats, Kriemhilt is a queen, they should 
 do honour to her as she passes. ' Nay by my 
 love,' replies Hagen, ' they would fancy that I did
 
 148 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 it for fear. For her will I never rise from my seat.' 
 Over his leg lay a bright sword ; on its hilt a bright 
 jasper, greener than the grass. Kriemhilt recog- 
 nized it as Sifrit's. It reminded her of her woe ; 
 she began to weep. Volker drew nearer to him 
 " a fiddle-bow strong, mickle and long, like a 
 sword sharp and broad ; there sate unaffrighted 
 the two knights together." The " noble queen" 
 went by their feet, and offered them foelike greet- 
 ing : ' Now tell me, Hagen, who hath sent after 
 you, that you should ride hither into this land, 
 when you well know what you have done to me ?' 
 ' None sent for me,' he replies. ' To this land 
 were escorted three knights that are called my 
 masters ; I am their man.' ' Now tell me further,' 
 she said, ' why did you that whereby you have 
 earned my hate ? You slew Sifrit my beloved 
 husband, for which I have cause enough to weep 
 evermore till mine end.' ' Why more talk ?' said 
 he. ' It is enough. I am that Hagen who slew 
 Sifrit, how sorely he paid for the lady Kriem- 
 hilt's scolding of the fair Brunhild ! All the blame 
 is mine ; avenge it who will, woman or man, I will 
 not lie, I have wrought you much sorrow.' ' Now 
 hear him, ye knights,' she says, ' how he tells the 
 truth.' But the Hunnish knights refuse to be her 
 instruments. One says flatly he will not fulfil his
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 149 
 
 promise, he will not lose his life for any one's 
 gifts. Another is of the same mind. Were they 
 to give him towers of red gold he would not stand 
 up to that fiddler. Hagen too he knows from his 
 youth. He has seen him in two-and-twenty battle- 
 storms wherein many ladies found their heart's woe.* 
 He was then but a child ; a grim man is he now ; 
 he bears moreover Balmung, which evilly he won. 
 In short, none will fight the pair. 
 
 At Volker's suggestion they go forth to rejoin 
 their masters. They find the princes just going 
 to court Volker and Hagen never were parted 
 from this time, save in a battle-storm at their last 
 hour. As the Rhenish prince comes in, introduced 
 by him of Bern, Etzel springs from his seat. So 
 right fair a greeting from a king never more took 
 place. ' Be welcome, lord Gunther, and also lord 
 Gernot, and your brother Giselher ; be ye greatly 
 welcome, ye two knights, Volker the full bold and 
 also Hagen, to me and to my lady here in this 
 land. She hath in great truth very often reminded 
 me of you.' Hagen replies that had he not come 
 on his lord's account he would have come in 
 honour of the king. Wine is handed round in wide 
 golden cups ; they then proceed to table. Never 
 
 * "Him and the Spaniard," the text bears, another evident 
 allusion to Walther of Aquitain.
 
 150 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 host sat more graciously by his guests. They 
 gave them their fill of meat and drink ; all they 
 wished was at their command ; for many wonders 
 had been told of the heroes. 
 
 The day had now an end. The night was near ; 
 the "way-weary knights" wished for their beds. 
 Gunther asks leave to depart, promising to come 
 early in the morning. As they depart, the Huns 
 throng the guests, which Volker complains of. They 
 are taken into a spacious hall, wherein afterwards 
 they received their death-fall, containing many rich 
 beds, long and wide, covered with Arabian silks, 
 with ermine, with the swart sable. Giselher's heart 
 misgives him ; however kindly his sister may have 
 received him, he fears that they may meet their 
 deaths by her means. Hagen offers to perform 
 " the shield-watch" till day ; Volker offers to per- 
 form it with him. Each takes shield in hand and 
 goes out to stand before the door ; but Volker, 
 leaning his shield against the wall, goes back and 
 takes his fiddle. " Then rendered he his friends 
 such service as beseemed the knight. Under the 
 door of the house sate he upon the stone ; a bolder 
 fiddler was never yet" He struck the strings, and 
 all the house resounded ; sweeter and softer he be- 
 gan to play, and lulled upon the beds many a sorrow- 
 ful man. When he found that they were all asleep,
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 151 
 
 he took his shield again, and went out to stand 
 before the door, and so guarded his friends from 
 Kriemhilt's men. A night surprise is indeed at- 
 tempted by the latter, but the sight of the fiddler 
 and Hagen at their shield-watch is enough to 
 make the Huns fall back. 
 
 At the approach of day, the watchers have to 
 wake up the many who yet lie sleeping. Hagen 
 asks them if they will go to the minster and hear 
 the mass after Christian fashion, they agree, but 
 he is grieved to see them put on splendid garments 
 for the occasion. ' Take/ he says, ' for roses your 
 swords in your hands, and for hats well decked 
 with gems the bright good helmets ; for silken 
 shirts hauberks, and for rich mantles good shields.' 
 They will have to fight to-day let them bewail 
 to God their sorrow and their need, and know for 
 certain that death draws near. 
 
 So they go to the minster, the princes and their 
 men. Hagen bids them lay their shields at their 
 feet. Their host comes with his fair wife, arrayed 
 in rich garments. When king Etzel sees the knights 
 of the Rhine thus armed, he exclaims that it 
 is painful to him to see his friends go in their 
 helmets ; if any one had done aught to them he 
 would gladly punish him as they might think 
 good. ' None hath done aught to us/ answers
 
 152 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 Hagen of Tronege. ' But it is my lord's custom to 
 go armed to all festivities for three full days.' 
 
 After church come the jousts. Volker is un- 
 lucky enough to kill a richly dressed Hun. There 
 is a cry to arms ; the Huns seek to kill the fiddler. 
 King Etzel endeavours to stop the tumult; de- 
 claring he saw how the mischief happened, that 
 Volker wounded the Hun without meaning it, that 
 they must leave his guests in peace. They go in 
 to feast in the palace ; but the Rhine men have 
 many foes ; Etzel himself is somewhat nettled to 
 see them eat while yet armed, but threatens still 
 any who should molest them. Kriemhilt asks 
 Dietrich's counsel ; but Hildebrand answers for his 
 lord, ' Who slays the Niblungs must do it without 
 me.' The queen promises her gold to any one 
 who will single out and kill Hagen ; but she would 
 be much grieved were any one else hurt. Dietrich 
 tells her her prayer does her little honour. She 
 turns for help to Blodel. He bears no hatred, he 
 says, to the Niblungs ; he will be ill seen of the 
 king if he attacks them. She promises him silver 
 and gold, land, a fair wife. Blodel is tempted, and 
 undertakes to risk his life with all his men in the 
 attempt. 
 
 The princes go to the feast. Four of Etzel's 
 men bring in Ortlieb the young king. " Now see,
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 153 
 
 my friends," says the king, " this is my only man" 
 i.e. son. If he lives, he will give him thirty 
 countries. He begs of them that when they leave 
 they will take their sister's son with them, deal 
 graciously by the child, and bring him up to 
 honour, till he come to be a man. Hagen roughly 
 answers that seldom will he be seen going to court 
 after Ortlieb. The king is vexed by the speech. 
 But Hagen's mood was not good for pastime. All 
 the princes were grieved. 
 
 Meanwhile Blodel with a thousand men has 
 gone to the hostelry where Dankwart the marshal 
 sate at table with the squires. Dankwart receives 
 him courteously ; what means his visit ? ' Greet 
 me not,' replied Blodel. Dankwart must lose his 
 life because of Hagen his brother, who slew Sifrit. 
 Dankwart replies that he was but a small squire 
 when Sifrit lost his life. Blodel will listen to 
 nothing. ' Then entreaty had better be spared', re- 
 plies Dankwart ; and springing from table, he takes 
 a sharp sword, large and long, and strikes a swift 
 blow, so that Blodel's head and helmet lie at his 
 feet. 'That be thy morning-gift,' said Dankwart 
 the hero, ' to her whom thou hast chosen to thyself; 
 she may to-morrow marry another man' (for a true 
 Hun had told him of the queen's counsel). Blodel's 
 men however rush upon the squires. They had no
 
 154 THE LAY AN D LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 swords; they tear up the benches, and drive out 
 the armed men, but there remain dead five hundred 
 or more. 
 
 News is carried to Etzel that Blodel and his 
 men are killed. Two thousand men go against 
 the squires, they slaughter them all, a thousand, 
 with twelve knights of Dankwart's. Swords enough 
 fell on his body, as he remained alone. 'O that 
 he had a messenger, to tell his brother Hagen !' 
 ' Thou must be the messenger ; we will bear thee 
 dead before thy brother.' He tries himself to go 
 to the court and give the news. His shield is so 
 full of spears that he lets it fall for the weight. As 
 a wild boar in the wood before the hounds, so he 
 rushes through the midst of them. Carvers and 
 cup-bearers hear the clank of swords ; the drink 
 and the meat fall from many a hand. Dank- 
 wart reaches the door all running with blood, 
 carrying a mighty sword bare in his hand. It was 
 just the moment when Ortlieb was being carried 
 backwards and forwards from table to table. 
 
 ' You sit too long, brother Hagen, to you and 
 to God from heaven I cry our need. Knights and 
 squires in the hostelry lie dead.' ' Who has done 
 this ?' cries Hagen. ' Lord Blodel and his men ; 
 but he has not enjoyed it, for I struck off his head 
 with these hands.' ' Why is Dankwart bloody ?'
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 155 
 
 ' It is the blood of others.' Hagen (whom the 
 poet seizes this strange opportunity of calling 
 ' the good hero') suddenly kills Ortlieb ; the child's 
 head leaps into Kriemhilt's lap. Amongst other 
 mischief, he also strikes off a hand of Werbel 
 the fiddler, who had brought the invitation into 
 the Burgundians' land. Volker springs from 
 table, his fiddle-bow in his hand, and 'fiddles' 
 sternly. The three kings also spring from table, 
 anxious to leave ere the mischief be greater. Gun- 
 ther first enters into the fray ; then Gernot, slaying 
 many with the sharp sword given him by Rudeger; 
 then Ute's young son did great wonders, standing 
 foremost among the foes. " Then men saw the 
 guests go hewing with their bright swords through 
 the king's hall." The crowd presses in from with- 
 out ; Dankwart is in great danger ; Hagen calls on 
 Volker to go to his help, who begins to go " full 
 fiddling" through the palace, a sharp sword in his 
 hand. Suddenly he calls out that the house is 
 shut, that Etzel's door also is closed. The host 
 sits very anxious ; what avails him to be king ? 
 The queen calls on Dietrich for help. Dietrich 
 answers at first that he has enough to do to look 
 after himself, so enraged are Gunther's men. Pre- 
 vailed upon however by her entreaties, he calls 
 out; his voice sounded like a horn. Gunther
 
 156 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 recognizes it, and bids his men cease from striking, 
 that he may know what his friends have done to 
 Dietrich ; he is willing to make him any atone- 
 ment. Dietrich replies that nothing has been done 
 to him, but begs to be allowed to leave the house 
 in peace with his companions. Gunther grants 
 the request ; whereupon he takes out under his 
 arm the noble queen, and Etzel on the other side ; 
 many others go with him. Rudeger in turn is 
 likewise allowed to depart. As Dietrich goes out, 
 a Hun knight who seeks to take advantage of the 
 escort is struck such a blow by Volker that his 
 head rolls at Etzel's feet ; which makes Etzel, once 
 out, thank his salvation that he has " escaped the 
 devil." The prowess of the fiddler, the " tunes" 
 which he " fiddles with the Huns" excite equally 
 within the admiration of Gunther and Hagen. 
 When the slaughter is over, they put out the dead 
 bodies; seven thousand are flung down the hall- 
 steps ; some, only wounded, are killed by the fall. 
 A cry of lamentation arises from the Huns ; Volker 
 wonders to hear them wail like women, and "shoots" 
 dead a margrave who was endeavouring to carry 
 away the dead body of a comrade. Etzel, rendered 
 desperate by the slaughter of his knights, comes 
 out to fight the Burgundians ; Kriemhilt advises 
 him rather to bribe them ; but Hagen begins in-
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 157 
 
 suiting the king and queen. She offers gold, 
 castles, lands, to any one who will bring her Ha- 
 gen's head. Volker expresses his wonder that so 
 rich a reward should tempt no one. At last Irinc 
 of Denmark undertakes the task. Hagen at first 
 refuses, saying that he must have two or three at 
 a time. Irnfrit of Thuringia and Hawart the 
 strong with a thousand men go with Irinc, but he 
 insists upon fighting alone. He engages in suc- 
 cession not only Hagen, but also Volker, Gunther, 
 Gernot, and Giselher, slaying by the way four Bur- 
 gundian knights. Giselher strikes down and stuns 
 him without wounding him ; but Irinc recovers 
 himself and springs away, wounding Hagen in the 
 face as he leaves the building unhurt. Great of 
 course is the rejoicing on Kriemhilt's side. After 
 refreshing himself and providing himself with better 
 weapons, Irinc is unwise enough to repeat the 
 venture, but is this time slain by Hagen. Irnfrit and 
 Hawart with their thousand men go in to avenge 
 his death, but Danes and Thuringians are all in 
 turn slain by the Burgundians ; then all is still, 
 while the blood flows on all sides through every 
 crevice. 
 
 Hagen now bids them unloose their helmets ; 
 he and his mate will keep watch. The knights 
 sit down to rest on the bodies of those they have
 
 158 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 killed. But before the evening, the king and 
 queen have gathered together before the house full 
 twenty thousand men. The hard strife lasts till 
 into the night ; all the " summer-long day" the 
 guests defend themselves like good heroes against 
 Etzel's men. At last they ask a truce, and wish 
 to see the king and queen. The king declares he 
 cannot make peace, after the death of his child 
 and so many of his men. Gunther declares they 
 were compelled by the slaughter of the followers 
 at the hostelry. The parley goes on ; Etzel's chiefs 
 are inclined to let the guests go ; Kriemhilt opposes 
 it. Young Giselher addresses her as his " full fair 
 sister ;" why has she invited him over the Rhine 
 to die ? how has he deserved death at her hands ? 
 He was ever faithful to her, never did he harm 
 to her ; " full dear sister mine," he again addresses 
 her, wilt thou not have mercy ? " I can have no 
 mercy for you ; I have unmercy ; Hagen of Tronege 
 has done me so great harm. Full unatoned for 
 is it; whilst I have life, ye must all pay for it." 
 Only if they will deliver Hagen over to her as a 
 hostage will she give them their lives. 'Would God 
 from heaven,' then spoke Gernot, ' were we a thou- 
 sand, that we all lay dead, ere we gave thee that 
 one man as a hostage.' 'We must then die,' spoke 
 Giselher; since never has he betrayed the faith
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 159 
 
 of a friend. The queen now threatens to fire the 
 hall, and on their still holding out, carries out her 
 purpose. 
 
 The Burgundians are ready to perish for heat 
 and thirst. " Then spoke Hagen of Tronege, the 
 good knight : ' Whomsoever thirst-need twinges, 
 let him here drink the blood ; it is in such a heat 
 still better than wine.' Loosing the helmet of a 
 fainting man, he bows him to the wounds of a dead 
 man ; he began to drink the flowing blood. ' Now 
 praise I God, Sir Hagen,' spoke the weary man, 
 ' that I by your teaching have drunk so well ; full 
 seldom has better wine been poured to me.' " The 
 others do the same, and gain much strength there- 
 by. They keep off the fire with their shields as 
 best they may, or by Hagen's advice tread out the 
 falling brands in the blood. 
 
 The weary night passes thus, till Giselher feels 
 a cool wind rising, which makes him think day is 
 coming. They put on their armour again; there 
 remain yet six hundred men, than whom never 
 king had better. The Huns are astonished to see 
 them come forth yet alive ; Kriemhilt will not at 
 first believe that they have escaped. The fight 
 recommences ; Volker bids the Huns come nearer, 
 since there remains none among them but must 
 die. One thousand two hundred men attack
 
 l6o THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 them ; but the guests ' with wounds cool well their 
 courage.' 
 
 Rudeger, coming to the court in the morning, 
 sees the carnage on both sides, and weeps. He 
 sends to Dietrich, to know if yet the king can be 
 appeased ; Dietrich replies that there is no chance. 
 A Hun sees Rudeger weeping, and goes to com- 
 plain to the queen ; for so many castles as he has 
 received from the king, Rudeger has never yet 
 struck a good stroke in this assault. Rudeger in- 
 dignant strikes the Hun dead, deploring that he 
 should ever have brought the guests into Hunland. 
 " Then spoke to the margrave Etzel the lord king : 
 ' How have you helped us, full noble Rudeger ? 
 when we have so many cowards here in the land, 
 we have no more need of you ; you have done full 
 evilly.' " The queen also comes, her eyes wet with 
 tears. " How have we deserved it, that you should 
 increase our sorrow, to me and to the king ?" She 
 reminds him of his promise, made to her when he 
 first escorted her to Etzel, that he would serve her 
 till death. Rudeger admits that he swore to risk 
 for her honour and life ; but that he should lose 
 his soul, that swore he never. She bids him re- 
 member his oath, that he would ever avenge her 
 ills. Etzel too begins to implore him ; both throw 
 themselves at his feet. Rudeger feels himself in a
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 161 
 
 strait ; whatever course he takes, he must do evil. 
 He beseeches the king to take back land and 
 castles ; he will go forth on foot. What help were 
 that ? says Etzel ; land and people, he will rather 
 give Rudeger all, that he should avenge them ; he 
 shall be king beside Etzel. How can Rudeger act 
 so ? He invited the Burgundians to his house ; he 
 offered them meat and drink, he gave them his 
 gifts ; to Giselher he gave his daughter ; never saw 
 he a young king so virtuous-minded. The queen 
 continues to entreat his mercy. At last Rudeger 
 yields. He knows that his fate is death, and com- 
 mends to the mercy of his sovereigns his wife and 
 child, and the many poor souls at Bechlar. The 
 king trusts he will yet come off safe ; but Etzel's 
 wife wept to see him venture soul and body. 
 
 Sadly Rudeger went forth from the king. He 
 found his chiefs close at hand, and bade them arm, 
 as he must engage the bold Burgundians. Quick 
 they sprang to their weapons, and with five hundred 
 men, and twelve chiefs besides, he proceeded to 
 the beleaguered house; sharp swords bore the 
 margrave's men, and before their hands the bright 
 broad shields. Volker saw them, and was loth; 
 young Giselher beholding his father-in-law as he 
 came with closed helmet, how should he under- 
 stand that he meant aught but good ? ' Now well
 
 1 62 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 is me,' he said, 'that I should have made such 
 friends on the way ; glad am I, by my troth, of my 
 marriage.' ' I know not what your trust is, spake 
 the player ; when saw ye ever through the sunlight 
 so many heroes go with closed helmets, bearing 
 sword in hand ? Rudeger means to earn upon us 
 his castles and his land.' Before the fiddler had 
 finished his speech, they saw the noble Rudeger 
 before the house. His good shield he set before 
 his feet, now must he to his friends renounce 
 service and greeting. The noble margrave calls 
 out into the hall; heretofore they were friends, 
 now must he be quit of his troth. Affrighted were 
 the need-sore men at this news, who after having 
 endured such labour from their foes, must now 
 strive with their friend. Gunther beseeches him 
 to have mercy. Rudeger declares he must fight 
 them ; he has promised, and Etzel's wife would not 
 discharge him. Again Gunther promises to serve 
 him ever if he will let them live. Gunther reminds 
 him of the rich presents he gave them, Gernot of 
 the loving reception they met with at his hands. 
 'Would God,' said Rudeger, 'most noble Gernot, 
 that ye were at the Rhine, and I were dead !' 
 Gernot shows the arms he gave him, which have 
 never failed him in all this need ; bright are they 
 and stedfast, lordly and good; if Rudeger slays
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 163 
 
 his friends, must Gernot kill him with his own 
 sword ? Giselher tells him he wishes too soon to 
 make a widow of his fair daughter ; how unfriendly 
 is it for Rudeger and his men to strive with one 
 who is true to him above all other men, since he 
 has taken his daughter to wife! 'Think of your 
 truth, noble lord king ; should God send you from 
 hence' (so spoke Rudeger) 'let not the young girl 
 pay for me ; by your own virtues vouchsafe to be 
 gracious.' Giselher replies that should his men 
 perish in the fight, all friendship must be parted be- 
 tween him and Rudeger and his daughter. " Now 
 may God have mercy," spoke the bold man ; and 
 the shields were lifted for the fight, when Hagen 
 called out : ' Wait awhile, most noble Rudeger, let 
 us speak further ; what does our death help Etzel ? 
 ' I am in much trouble for the shield, which lady 
 Gotelint gave me to bear; the Huns have hewn it 
 down from my hand. I bore it as a friend into 
 Etzel's land ; would that God from heaven would 
 grant me to bear yet a shield as good as that thou 
 hast before thy hands, most noble Rudeger, then 
 would I need no more hauberk for the storm.' 
 'Full willingly would I be good to thee with my 
 shield, durst I offer it thee before Kriemhilt. Yet 
 take thou it, Hagen, and bear it on thy hand ; ah, 
 couldst thou but carry it into the Burgundians'
 
 164 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 land!' As he so willingly offered him the shield 
 for gift, there were eyes enough red with hot tears ; 
 that was the last gift that from thenceforth ever 
 more offered to any knight Rudeger of Bechlar. 
 So grim were Hagen, so wrathful-minded, yet the 
 gift pitied him, which the good hero, so near to his 
 last moments, had made; many a noble knight 
 with him began to lament. 'Now God from 
 heaven reward you, most noble Rudeger; never 
 more shall be your like, who to wretched knights 
 make such lordly gifts. God grant that your virtue 
 may live for ever !' Hagen pledges himself never 
 to lift his hand upon Rudeger, though he were to 
 slay all the Burgundians. Volker declares that 
 since his mate Hagen has made peace, he will do 
 the like, and bids him look at the red fiddle-bow 
 which the margravine gave him. 'Would God,' 
 said Rudeger, ' that the margravine could give you 
 yet more ; the news will I gladly give to my 
 darling, should I see her again.' So speaking he 
 lifts his shield and begins the fray, while Hagen 
 and Volker look on ; but when his men engage the 
 conflict they spring into it, sparing him alone. 
 Rudeger slays so many of the Burgundians that at 
 last Gernot engages him; they perish by each 
 other's hand, Rudeger under his own weapons. 
 The furious Burgundians slay all Rudeger's men,
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 165 
 
 and then sit down, strife-weary, weening, Giselher 
 says, that God means them not to live much 
 longer. The silence lasts so long that Etzel's wife 
 fears treachery ; she imagines that Rudeger means 
 to take the guests away to their country. Volker 
 overhears her; could he accuse so noble a body of 
 lying, devilishly has she lied upon Rudeger. He 
 and his followers lie dead ; " look round, Kriemhilt, 
 whom ye would now command ; Rudeger the hero 
 has served you to the end." To convince them, 
 they bring the hero's mangled body for the king 
 to see. When they saw them drag the margrave 
 dead, a writer could not write nor say the grief of 
 woman and man. King Etzel roared like a lion 
 with heart-sorrow. 
 
 One of Dietrich's men hears the great lamenta- 
 tion. He addresses the prince, declaring he never 
 heard the like; the king himself must have gone 
 up; either he or the queen must be dead. Bold 
 Wolfhart offers to go and learn the news. Diet- 
 rich, fearful of his temper, bids Helpfrich go in- 
 stead. He returns in tears with the tidings of 
 Rudeger's death. It is the devil's mock, says 
 Dietrich. Wolfhart declares that the guests should 
 all pay for it. Thoughtful sate the prince at a 
 window. He bade Hilprant (or Hildebrand) go 
 and learn what had happened. The "stormbold
 
 1 66 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 knight," Master Hildebrand, went forth without 
 shield or weapon ; grim Wolfhart, who sees it, de- 
 clares that if he go bare, he will return shameful. 
 Before he was aware of it, all Dietrich's knights 
 were in arms, sword in hand, to accompany him. 
 
 Volker sees them coming, and forebodes evil. 
 Hildebrand places his shield before his feet, and 
 asks what they have done to Rudeger ? is it true 
 that they have slain him ? ' The news is true, 
 answers Hagen; would God the messenger had 
 lied to you ! that Rudeger were yet alive ! Man 
 and woman must ever weep for him.' Dietrich's 
 men begin to weep ; " one saw the tears go over 
 their beards and over their chins." Hildebrand for 
 sobbing can put no more questions, but asks for 
 the body of Rudeger that they may pay him the 
 last honours. Volker however will not let them 
 in ; Wolfhart provokes him ; Hildebrand his uncle 
 endeavours to restrain him. "Let go the lion, 
 master," cries Volker. Wolfhart springs at him; 
 old Hildebrand however is before, and attacks 
 Hagen; a "fire-red wind" goes forth from their 
 two swords. The fray begins ; many bold knights 
 fall on all sides. A grim man was Dankwart, 
 Hagen's brother ; what he had done before in the 
 strife with Etzel's knights was but a wind. Old 
 Hildebrand fares like one mad. Volker slays Sig-
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 167 
 
 stap, sister's son to Dietrich ; Hildebrand avenges 
 him on Volker himself. Hagen of Tronege sees 
 Volker dead ; of all the feast that was his greatest 
 sorrow. Helpfrich the strong slays Dankwart; 
 Wolfhart goes hewing down Gunther's men on all 
 sides. Giselher calls him ; they engage, and perish 
 by each other's hands. Hildebrand runs to Wolf- 
 hart, and endeavours to carry him off from the 
 hall; but he was a little too heavy; he must let 
 him lie. The wounded man looks at him out of 
 his blood ; he begs his uncle not to care for him, 
 but to beware of Hagen, and to tell his men there 
 is no need to weep ; " by a king's hand I lie here 
 in lordly death ; I have too so avenged here my 
 life, that good knights' wives must bewail it; if 
 any ask you, ye shall say at once, by my one hand 
 a full hundred lie slain." 
 
 Hagen seeks to avenge Volker on Hildebrand, 
 and strikes a blow by which one might well know 
 Balmung, Sifrit's sword, which Hagen had taken 
 from the hero when he slew him. Hildebrand 
 strikes at him in return, but cannot wound him. 
 Wounded himself, and fearing worse, he throws his 
 shield over his back, and outruns Hagen. None 
 remain alive but himself, Gunther, and Hagen. 
 Dietrich receives him with reproaches ; why did 
 Hildebrand fight with the guests, in spite of his
 
 1 68 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 master's forbiddance ? Hildebrand explains that 
 they wanted to carry away Rudeger, but were not 
 allowed. ' Is Rudeger then dead ?' Then weeping, 
 ' O the true help that I have lost ! Who is the 
 knight that hath slain him ?' Strong Gernot, 
 Hildebrand answers, did it ; but the hero too lies 
 himself dead by Rudeger's hand. Dietrich now 
 bids Hildebrand tell his men to arm quickly, as he 
 will himself go and question the Burgundian heroes. 
 "Then spake Master Hildebrand: 'Whither shall 
 I go ? What you have of living (men), that see you 
 stand by you." Dietrich shudders at the news. 
 " God hath forgotten me, poor Dietrich that I am ! 
 
 I was a mighty king, lordly and rich But how 
 
 could it befal,' spake lord Dietrich, ' that they should 
 all be dead, the praiseworthy heroes, through the 
 strife-weary ones that yet were sore pressed ? . . . . 
 Has none of the guests yet survived ?" " God 
 knows, none more, but Hagen alone, and Gunther 
 the lord king." 
 
 " Then took the lord Dietrich himself his war 
 apparel ; old Hildebrand helped him to arm. Sorely 
 too wailed the strong man, so that the house began 
 to resound with his voice. Then again gained he 
 the mind of a true hero ; in grimness then was 
 armed the good knight ; a shield full tough then 
 took he in his hand ; soon they went forth, he and 
 Master Hildebrand."
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 169 
 
 Hagen sees them, and that the lord Dietrich is 
 coming to avenge his strong woe ; never seemed 
 he so strong of body and so terrible. Dietrich 
 and Hildebrand hear them speak; they find the 
 two chiefs both standing outside the house, leaning 
 on the doorpost. Dietrich puts down his good 
 shield, and reproaches Gunther with the ill they 
 have wrought upon him ; whatever he had of joy, 
 lies slain by them. " We are not so guilty," said 
 Hagen ; " methinks the tale has not been rightly 
 told you." "What shall I rather believe ? Hilde- 
 brand told me, when my knights of the Amelungs' 
 land desired that you should give them Rudeger 
 out of the hall, ye offered nought but insult to 
 my knights here below." " They said they wished 
 to carry Rudeger from hence," said Gunther ; " I 
 bade this be denied them, but for spite of Etzel, 
 and not of thy men ; and then Wolfhart began to 
 storm about it." " So must it be," said the hero 
 of Bern ; " Gunther, noble king, through thy virtues 
 make amends to me for the sorrows that have 
 
 befallen me from thee Give thyself to me as 
 
 a prisoner, thou and thy man ; so will I protect 
 thee the best I can, that none of the Huns here 
 do aught to thee ; thou shalt find in me nought but 
 truth and all good." " God from heaven forbid," 
 said then Hagen, " that two knights should give
 
 I/O THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 themselves up to thee, who stand yet before thee 
 armed so warlike yet." " I give you my troth," 
 said Dietrich, "that I ride with you home again 
 to your land ; I conduct you honourably, or I lie 
 dead ; for you I will forget my dreadful woe." 
 "The tale fits not well to be told of us," replies 
 Hagen, " that two so brave men should give them- 
 selves up to you, now that one sees by you none 
 but a single Hildebrand." He goes on to reproach 
 Hildebrand for his flight. Hildebrand retorts, 
 with a new allusion to the subject of the 'Wal- 
 tharius': "now who was it that sat on his shield 
 before the Wasgenstein, when Walther of Spain slew 
 him so many of his troop ?" " It befits not heroes," 
 says Dietrich, " that they should scold like old 
 wives. I forbid you, Master Hildebrand, to say 
 more." But it is in vain ; Hagen is incensed at 
 the idea of their being asked to give themselves 
 up. Seeing his " grim mood," Dietrich seizes his 
 shield, and Hagen springs on him with the good 
 sword of the Niblungs. But Dietrich's sword is 
 " a weapon strong enough," and with it he is adroit 
 enough to give him a wound " deep and long." 
 He thinks now it will be little honour to kill him, 
 he should rather take him. " His shield he let 
 fall ; his strength it was great ; Hagen of Tronege 
 he grasped in his arms; then was overcome by
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 171 
 
 him the brave man. Gunther the noble began to 
 sorrow therefore. Dietrich then bound Hagen, 
 bore him where he found the noble queen, and 
 gave to her hand the boldest knight that ever bore 
 sword ; after her full strong sorrow then was she joy- 
 ful enough." He recommends her very uselessly 
 as one feels beforehand to spare his life. Mean- 
 while Gunther is calling for him to come, and 
 rushes on him at his appearance. It was a wonder 
 that lord Dietrich survived, so sore wroth and 
 enraged was Gunther, so lordly was his courage. 
 Yet the blood began to flow through the rings of 
 his mail through a sword-stroke of lord Dietrich's ; 
 at last he was bound " as no kings should be," and 
 carried out in turn to Kriemhilt. " Welcome," said 
 she, " Gunther, a hero of the Burgundians' land !" 
 " I should salute you," he replies, " my very dear 
 sister, if your greeting might be more gracious." 
 " Wife of a noble king," says Rudeger, " never were 
 such good knights made prisoners as I, lady, have 
 given you ; now should you let the poor ones be 
 safe with me." She said she would do it gladly. 
 With tearful eyes Dietrich departed. " Grimly 
 afterwards did Etzel's wife avenge herself." 
 
 She made them lie apart, so that neither after- 
 wards ever saw the other, till she bore her brother's 
 head to Hagen. First she went to Hagen : " If
 
 1/2 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 you will give me back that you have taken from 
 me, you may yet well go home alive to the Bur- 
 gundians." " The prayer is lost," said grim Hagen ; 
 " full noble queen, I have sworn it, that whilst any 
 of my lords live I will show the hoard to no one." 
 An end to this, said she. " Then bade she take 
 her brother's life. Men smote off his head ; by the 
 hair she bore it before the hero of Tronege; sorrow 
 enough was it for him." He tells her he thought 
 it would be so. Now is the king of Burgundy 
 dead, and Giselher, and Gernot ; none knows where 
 the treasure is, but God and himself; it shall ever 
 be concealed from her. She declares she will at 
 least have Sifrit's sword ; " It was borne by my 
 sweet love, when I saw him last ; when a heart- 
 sorrow befell me above all sorrow." She took it 
 from the sheath, he could not prevent it, she 
 lifted it with her hands, she smote off his head. 
 King Etzel saw it and was displeased enough. 
 Old Hildebrand declared that though she durst 
 slay him, she shall not enjoy his death; he will 
 himself avenge the bold one of Tronege. Old 
 Hildebrand sprang to Kriemhilt, and struck the 
 queen with a sword ; what did it help her, that she 
 full dreadfully screamed ? To pieces was then 
 hewed the noble woman. Dietrich and Etzel be- 
 gan to weep, and so, amidst universal tears and
 
 ('NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 173 
 
 lamentations, "Here has the tale an end; this is 
 the Niblungs' need."* 
 
 So ends this wonderful poem, to my mind by 
 far the grandest of epics since the Iliad, and even 
 superior to that in its conclusion for sustained 
 tragic awfulness ; whilst on the other hand, of 
 course, it must always remain inferior beyond 
 comparison to that masterpiece in all the essential 
 characteristics of the Greek genius, unity, and 
 proportion of parts, and adequacy of means to ends 
 and motives to acts, in short all the qualities de- 
 pendent on the fjuerpov, the inner music of thought 
 and form. Here, as in the series of Norse legends, 
 and still more offensively since they have been 
 reduced to outward unity, we are called upon to 
 shift our sympathies bodily from Sifrit to his mur- 
 derers, and to look upon the cowards of the first 
 part as the dauntless heroes of the second. Kriem- 
 hilt's preferring to reside in the neighbourhood of 
 her husband's murderers remains perfectly unac- 
 countable ; not less so that she should so long 
 delay her revenge, nor that her second lord, Etzel, 
 (who indeed plays no very creditable part) should 
 espouse so readily the cause of his predecessor in 
 her affections. I should be inclined myself to con- 
 
 * Or, according to the later text, 'the Niblungs' lay.'
 
 1/4 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 sider that the poem is really the work of at least 
 three distinct rhapsodes, the earliest of whom must 
 have followed the Norse legend, according to which, 
 as we have seen, Gunther and his kindred were the 
 Niflungs or Niblungs. Traces of this, it will be 
 recollected, are frequent towards the middle of the 
 poem, whilst the older title ('Niblungs' Need') shows 
 that this must have been the original form of 
 the legend. I should then incline to consider the 
 last books, representing the catastrophe at Etzel's 
 court, as the next most ancient portion; and the 
 beginning, occupied chiefly with Sifrit (though deal- 
 ing with the oldest legend), as the most modern, 
 and in fact introduced chiefly to account for Kriem- 
 hilt's hate to Hagen.* The wonderful keeping of 
 the last part, its perfect truth of character in all 
 the heroes, forbid me from supposing that the same 
 great poet would ever have produced anything so 
 out of keeping with the close, so devoid of truth of 
 character, as the commencement 
 
 * In legendary poems of a semi-historic nature, it will generally 
 be found that the most ancient portion lies towards the middle, and 
 that the most modern is at the beginning of the series. The 
 popularity of a poem would tempt in the first instance to con- 
 tinuation; but each step then becomes more difficult to take, as 
 carrying the poet towards his own times, and thereby hampering his 
 invention ; whereas each step backward from the commencement, 
 by carrying him towards the unknown, adds to his freedom.
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 1/5 
 
 This view is, I think, to some extent supported 
 by a poem often found in MS. in connexion with 
 the former, called "the Lament," "Diu Klage," 
 and which I should agree with Gervinus in con- 
 sidering as probably more ancient than the former 
 part of the "Lied," as far as the actual text at 
 least is concerned. But in substance, I cannot 
 help viewing it as decidedly more modern than the 
 " Lied," taken as a whole.* Not only does it pro- 
 fess to rest altogether on the authority of a written 
 book, thereby showing itself not to be the work of 
 a true rhapsode, but to belong to that second epoch 
 of the popular epic, when a state of semi-cultiva- 
 tion exists, and the minstrel seeks to bolster up his 
 compositions with sham authorities either of texts 
 or of names, but the very conception of it is 
 artificial, however inartistic the form. The natural 
 flow of poetry is to lament over the recently dead, 
 to tell the story of those long departed. When the 
 practice comes in of composing laments over per- 
 sonages dead centuries before, you may be sure 
 that the actual story of those personages has long 
 been told, and that it is a mere attempt to dress 
 up old matter in a new form. Here the 'Klage' 
 visibly implies the 'Noth' throughout; although, 
 starting from and chiefly dealing with Kriemhilt's 
 * M. Amedee Thierry indeed ascribes it to the fourteenth century.
 
 1/6 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 second wedding and its consequences, and repro- 
 ducing the leading events of the narrative in the 
 waitings of the three surviving personages, Etzel, 
 Dietrich, and Hildebrand, it seems to me to show 
 that the catastrophe was considered the kernel of 
 the whole cycle of legend. It is indeed observed 
 by Grimm and Gervinus that the robbery of the 
 Niblungs' treasure is made by it the prominent 
 ground of Kriemhilt's revenge ; and so far, the in- 
 ference seems to be a probable one, that the giving 
 the first place as a determining cause of that re- 
 venge to Kriemhilt's affection for her long dead 
 first husband must have been a refinement of a 
 later age. But although it may be literally true, 
 as Grimm maintains, that the writer has not had 
 before him "our Nibelunge Noth," a "Nibelunge 
 Noth," I repeat it, underlies it throughout. 
 
 At any rate, the ' Klage' is immeasurably in- 
 ferior to the ' Noth', and amounts only to a vulgar 
 continuation of it. Nothing can be more tiresome 
 than Etzel's perpetual lamentations over wife, child, 
 brother, chiefs, &c., which indeed Dietrich is shown 
 reproving as womanlike ; nor is additional dignity 
 imparted to such by his declaring that " Machmet" 
 (Mahomet) has not profited him, or that he is 
 punished for having been five years a Christian and 
 then having abandoned his faith; whilst some of
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 177 
 
 his doleful sayings sound like Joe Millers, such as 
 "Alas ! that no one may die till his last day comes" 
 (v. 1033). In despite of perpetual weeping, wailing, 
 screaming, the pathos is of the poorest, feeblest 
 description. After having supped full of horrors in 
 the storm, what can one care for hearing that on 
 Hildebrand being told to carry Rudeger out, as he 
 bent down, the wound that Hagen had given him 
 began to bleed, and the body was "partly too 
 heavy for him," so that he could only bear it to 
 the door, then lost his strength and changed colour, 
 so that water was sent for ? Or how is the hearer 
 touched by being told that "however right un- 
 pleasant the dead may be to people, one saw then 
 many dead men kissed and fondled ?" 
 
 The special subject of the " Klage" is, as a 
 sequel to the " Noth," to describe the search among 
 the dead bodies in the house of slaughter, the 
 burying of them, the journey of Etzel's " fiddler," 
 Swemmelin, to the Rhine by way of Bechlar and 
 Passau, to give the tidings of the massacre to queen 
 Briinhilt, his return, and the final parting from 
 Etzel of Dietrich and his wife Herrat, who take 
 also Bechlar on their way. Level and poor as the 
 narrative is, it reaches to pathos in the descrip- 
 tion of the arrival of the messengers at Bechlar. 
 To spare his niece (Gotelint), Dietrich has directed 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 them not to mention the terrible events which have 
 happened, but to say that he and Rudeger will 
 soon come and see her, or at all events himself. 
 They are received with great rejoicing; Gotelint 
 and her daughter think " both to receive love with- 
 out sorrow, as often before, from beloved glances." 
 The young margravine has a foreboding of evil at 
 seeing the messengers so few, only seven. Then 
 her mother tells her of an evil dream which she 
 has had ; and she in turn has to tell of another 
 which had come to herself. Meanwhile the mes- 
 sengers are at hand, and are observed to be sad. 
 They give to Rudeger's wife the false tidings of 
 peace which they had been instructed to give ; the 
 younger lady wonders that her father should have 
 been so "cross" as to send no message to herself 
 specially. The ladies go on questioning the mes- 
 sengers about Kriemhilt, and how she received her 
 brother ? what she said to Hagen ? what to Gun- 
 ther ? How is it, asks the younger one, that 
 Giselher has sent her never a message ? Each 
 lying answer costs the speaker more and more ; at 
 last his tears begin to flow. The young margravine 
 exclaims that there must be ill news; evil has 
 befallen them ; the guests and her father must be 
 dead. As she speaks, one of the messengers can 
 contain himself no longer ; a cry breaks with blood
 
 ('NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 179 
 
 from his mouth. All his companions burst into 
 tears at the same time. The margravine conjures 
 them by their troth to tell how they parted from 
 her husband ; the lie must have an end. " Then 
 spake the fiddler, Swemmelin the messenger: 
 ' Lady, we wished to deny to you that which we 
 yet must say, since no man could conceal it ; after 
 this hour, ye see margrave Rudeger no more alive." 
 The margravine, we are afterwards told, died of 
 grief through the news ; so did old queen Ute at 
 her abbey of Lors. Briinhilt survives, and is pre- 
 vailed upon by her vassals to have her son crowned. 
 Etzel, after parting with Dietrich, loses his mind ; 
 according to another version, his fate remains 
 altogether uncertain. Dietelint the young mar- 
 gravine is taken under Dietrich's protection, who 
 undertakes to find her a husband. Bishop Pilgrin 
 has the story written out in Latin letters, "that 
 men should deem it true." A writer, Master 
 Konrad, then began to set it down in writing ; 
 since then it has been often set to verse in Teuton 
 tongues ; old and young know well the tale. " Of 
 their joy and of their sorrow I now say to you no 
 more ; this lay is called ' Ein Klage.' " 
 
 It need hardly to be pointed out that the last 
 portion of both the " Lied" and " Klage" must be
 
 ISO THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 held to be in great measure borrowed from the 
 Dietrich sub-cycle. 
 
 A strange passage occurs in an appendix to 
 Mr. Kemble's " Beowulf." Speaking of Attila, he 
 says (pp. 258, 259): "That this prince drew gra- 
 dually into his traditional history the exploits of 
 others, and more particularly those of Chlodowic 
 and his sons in the matter of the Burgundian king- 
 dom, is quite clear to any one who will take the 
 pains to look over the accounts of the Burgundian 
 war in Gregory of Tours, wJiere scarcely a name of 
 note in the Nibelungen cyclus is wanting" The 
 first doubt that occurs in this passage is, what 
 Burgundian war Mr. Kemble refers to, seeing that 
 that of Clovis-Chlodowic and that of his sons are 
 wholly distinct. But " any one who will take the 
 pains to look over the accounts" of the former war 
 in Bk. ii. chs. 32 4, and of the latter in Bk. iii. 
 ch. II, of the author referred to, will find that the 
 only names mentioned in the former are Gundo- 
 badus, Godegiselus, and Aridius, in the latter, 
 Chlothacarius, Childebertus, Theudericus, and Go- 
 domarus. Now the only ones of the above names 
 which appear to be identifiable with those of the 
 Nibelungenlied are Godegiselus-Giselher, and Theu- 
 dericus-Dietrich. It is true that elsewhere Gregory 
 speaks of a Burgundian Sigimundus, answering to
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED' AND 'KLAGE'). 181 
 
 Sigmund, whilst Brunihildis is a prominent per- 
 sonage in his later history among the Franks, as 
 well as the Burgundian Gunther. Nevertheless, 
 Grimm has pointed out in the Burgundian Law 
 a text which does supply to a great extent the 
 connexion which Mr. Kemble has rashly deduced 
 from Gregory of Tours: "If any shall be ascer- 
 tained to have been free in the days of our prede- 
 cessors of royal memory, that is, Gibica, Godomar, 
 Gislahar, and Gundahar" (si quos apud regiae 
 memoriae auctores nostros, id est Gibicam, Godom- 
 
 arem, Gislaharium, Gundaharium ), let them 
 
 remain in the same state of freedom." Here it is 
 impossible to mistake the "Giselher" and "Gun- 
 ther" of the Nibelungenlied, the " Gibeke" of other 
 poems of the cycle. And a Burgundian king 
 " Gundicar" or " Cundichar" is mentioned by three 
 separate writers (Prosper of Aquitain, Cassiodorus, 
 and Paulus Diaconus) as a contemporary of Attila, 
 and by the latter expressly as having been over- 
 thrown by the Hunnish king. 
 
 Bishop Pilgrin, it should be observed, is equally 
 a historical personage, of considerable prominence 
 in his time, who rilled the see of Passau from 971 
 to 991, and took a great share in the conversion of 
 the Hungarians to Christianity. M. Amedee Thierry 
 ingeniously suggests that the older legend as per-
 
 1 82 THE LAY AND LAMENT OF THE NIBLUNGS 
 
 petuated In the Norse, in which Attila is still the 
 ferocious monarch of history, may have been 
 touched up and moralized by Bishop Pilgrin for 
 the Hungarians, whose great national hero Attila 
 was, so as to soften all the harsher features of his 
 character. The difficulty in this supposition is, 
 that no Hungarian Nibelungenlied has been pre- 
 served, and that the Hungarian chronicles (alluded 
 to as historical by Mr. Carlyle), though full of 
 fables which have some points of contact with the 
 German legend, yet sensibly depart from it. In 
 these chronicles, Attila is represented, in conformity 
 with history, as having many wives, foremost among 
 whom are named Honoria the daughter of the 
 emperor of Greece (historically only affianced to 
 him), and Crimhild or Kremheilch, daughter of the 
 duke of Bavaria, each of them having a son, 
 Honoria's son is named Chaba, and Crimhild's 
 Aladar. On the death of Attila from haemorrhage, 
 the night of his marriage with Mikolt, daughter of 
 the king of the Bactrians (apparently the historical 
 ' Ildico'), Theodoric excites the sons against each 
 other ; the Germans take part for Crimhild's son, 
 the Huns for Honoria's. A gigantic fifteen days' 
 battle ensues, for many days after which nor man 
 nor beast could drink of the bloody waters of the 
 Danube; Chaba is beaten and withdraws into Asia,
 
 (' NIBELUNGENLIED* AND ' KLAGE'). 183 
 
 but Aladar dies of his wounds. In this narrative 
 we may recognize the real battle of the Catalaunic 
 plains, and perhaps also the slaughter of the Nib- 
 lungs, which Grimm is disposed to connect with 
 the former.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 BITEROLF: THE DIETRICH LEGENDS. 
 
 THE vast preeminence of the 'Nibelungenlied' over 
 other poems of the cycle can never be felt more 
 keenly than when it is compared with one deemed 
 by Gervinus to belong to the end of the twelfth 
 century, and consequently to be older than the 
 completed form of the ' Nibelungenlied' as we have 
 it now ; a work of quite epical proportions, since it 
 extends over no less than 13,000 and odd lines, 
 and not without a certain epical character in its 
 treatment of the subject, but the oppressive tedious- 
 ness of which must be felt to be imagined, 'Biterolf 
 and Dietlieb.' It requires to be noticed, as it has 
 a value in the development of the cycle ; but the 
 reader may rest assured that I will not make him 
 tarry over it longer than may be necessary. Like 
 the "Klage," it professes to rest upon an older 
 written original. 
 
 A gallant knight, Biterolf, whose capital is
 
 BITEROLF: THE DIETRICH LEGENDS. 185 
 
 Toledo (Tolet) hears such marvels spoken of king 
 Etzel's court, that he secretly leaves his wife Diet- 
 lint and his son Dietlieb to go in quest of it. In 
 his absence his son grows up, and eventually starts 
 forth secretly in like manner in quest of his father. 
 In crossing Burgundy, he is attacked by king Gun- 
 ther, but throws all his adversaries, reaches Etzel's 
 court, and after the inevitable incident of a fight 
 between father and son, unknown as yet to each 
 other, a mutual recognition takes place, and father 
 and son proceed homewards, but with an army 
 from Etzel sent to avenge the outrage committed 
 by the Burgundians on young Dietlieb. Gunther 
 is found supported by a numerous body of valiant 
 guests, whom he has invited together under pretext 
 of a tourney; the knights of the two armies at first 
 tourney together, then a great battle takes place, 
 which remains indecisive, and is followed by a 
 general reconciliation, after which Biterolf and 
 Dietlieb continue their way homeward. 
 
 Such is the very slender subject of this enor- 
 mous poem written indeed in real doggrel. It 
 is quite obvious that the unpleasing character of 
 Biterolf, who leaves wife and child simply to attach 
 himself to the service of a strange sovereign, is 
 almost sufficient to deprive it of all interest in 
 itself. Gervinus points out, and probably with
 
 1 86 BITEROLF: THE DIETRICH LEGENDS. 
 
 truth, that the subject of the wanderings of a son 
 in search of a father is characteristic of the Arthu- 
 rian cycle, and that ' Biterolf thus testifies to the 
 influence of that cycle over Germany at the period 
 when it was composed. 
 
 I have before intimated that the author of ' Bit- 
 erolf is considered by some German authorities to 
 be the same as the one of the ' Klage.' In point 
 of tediousness and garrulity, the two poems cer- 
 tainly nearly match each other ; though I must say 
 that I miss in ' Biterolf' the absolute childishness of 
 parts of the ' Klage.' In other respects indeed, the 
 same observations apply in great measure to both 
 works. Whether older or not than the present 
 text of the ' Nibelungenlied,' it is certain that 
 'Biterolf' implies throughout, with some discrep- 
 ancy on minor points, the whole legend of the 
 latter. In character, it is unmistakeably more 
 modern ; as for instance, in the way in which it is 
 larded with reflexions ; as when, after dwelling on 
 Etzel's liberality, the author declares that "whoso 
 acts not as a Christian, but only hoards and spares, 
 may fare yet better to hell than Etzel the warrior, 
 though he were a heathen." The chief value of the 
 work indeed consists in its presenting to us all the 
 leading personages of the ' Nibelungenlied' Sifrit, 
 Gunther, Gernot, Hagen, Briinhilt, Kriemhilt, Etzel,
 
 BITEROLF: THE DIETRICH LEGENDS. 187 
 
 Rudeger, Hildebrand, Dietrich, Wolfhart, Blodel, 
 &c, &c., with others of the cycle such as Walther, 
 often in connexion with details which seem to be- 
 long to lost portions of the original cycle ; and the 
 author's great difficulty (as that of later poets will 
 be seen to have been also), taking up the story of 
 his personages at a period antecedent to the great 
 catastrophe of the Nibelungenlied, was evidently 
 to exhibit fully their valour without allowing them 
 to deal a single deadly stroke at one another. Thus, 
 in the whole of the great battle between the Huns 
 and their allies on the one hand and the Bureun- 
 
 t> 
 
 dians and their allies on the other, the only chief 
 of note who is killed is Stutfuchs of Apulia. 
 
 Among the personages who figure prominently 
 in Biterolf is Walther of Spain. He meets Bite- 
 rolf at Paris (v. 566 and foil.) on his journey to 
 Etzel's court, and fights him, after which the two 
 recognize each other as uncle and nephew, Walther 
 being a son of Biterolf 's sister (v. 671). The ad- 
 ventures which form the subject of "Walthar of 
 Aquitain" are clearly referred to; Walther tells 
 his uncle of Etzel's court, how he and Hildegund 
 left it (v. 767 and foil.), and how he and Hagen 
 both " received swords from Etzel" /. e. were 
 knighted by him. Biterolf on leaving Walther 
 makes him "peace-master" of his land (v. 788),
 
 1 88 BITEROLF: THE DIETRICH LEGENDS. 
 
 recommending his wife and friends to his care. 
 Biterolf and Walther are however arrayed on op- 
 posite sides at the last, when by Hagen's advice 
 the latter is invited as a guest by Gunther, and 
 brings Hildegund with him. Walther's flight is 
 again alluded to, when on Rudeger's coming as 
 messenger Walther receives him laughingly (v. 
 6275), thinking how he had left the realm of the 
 Huns, whilst Rudeger asks news of fair Hildegund, 
 whom Walther afterwards allows him to kiss ; " her 
 sweet rose-red mouth she lovingly offered him" 
 (w. 6856 7). When Hildebrand arrays the host 
 for the battle, he opposes Rudeger to Walther, 
 especially putting forward as a grievance against 
 Walther that he carried away Hildegund from 
 queen Helche (v. 7648 and foil.). In the battle 
 itself, a messenger is sent by Biterolf and Dietlieb 
 to Walther, complaining of his acting against kinship 
 by fighting on the opposite side. He asks in reply 
 how he can leave his host, who pours him out his 
 wine ? it were very unknightly not to come to his 
 help. But they mutually agree to avoid one 
 another. Walther and Rudeger meet and wound 
 each other; they are parted, but meet again. 
 Walther and Hildegund are eventually shown as 
 taking a prominent part in the general reconcile- 
 ment. And whilst "Biterolf" serves thus further
 
 BITEROLF: THE DIETRICH LEGENDS. 189 
 
 to consolidate the connexion between the legend 
 of 'Walthar' and that of the Niblungs, it serves 
 also, as I shall presently have occasion to show, to 
 connect those legends with a remarkable poem 
 which has to be next considered, the " Gudrun." 
 
 'Biterolf in short which seems to have been 
 greatly overrated by some German writers, may 
 be admitted to contain genuine and valuable traces 
 of the earlier legend, but worked up with untiring 
 garrulity in the most prolix days of the age of 
 chivalry. Its great fault is, that we never feel it to 
 be real. It is a mere prologue to the great drama 
 of the ' Nibelungenlied.' Here and there we may 
 come upon a striking or touching scene or passage ; 
 as where Biterolf, arriving in Austria on his way to 
 Hunland, and asked by Wolfrat who has led him 
 through the land, replies : " Our hand, and our 
 knightly heart, leads us full well;" or where it is 
 said of Dietlieb, brought up in Biterolf 's absence : 
 " Full sorrowful it was to the child, when he saw 
 other children by him, and one of them said 
 Father ! he was for ever asking what a father was." 
 Of whole scenes, perhaps the best are those of 
 "mild Rudeger's" embassy, and of his gracious 
 reception by the ladies; of Dietrich's shrinking 
 from the encounter with Sifrit, Wolf hart's de- 
 nunciation of him to Hildebrand, and the old
 
 190 BITEROLF: 'THE DIETRICH LEGENDS. 
 
 knight's remonstrances with his master. "Your 
 father," he tells him, "gave your hand by faith 
 into mine, that I might have you and all his in my 
 care. There stood by many a man, German and 
 also Italian, when he commended to me all that 
 he left after his death. Thereto I turned heart 
 and mind, how I might bring you up with honour. 
 Now am I quite deceived, as if I had never taught 
 you for a day. Now must you practise strife with 
 me. ... I will see how the spear is levelled by your 
 hand ; mine . . . must be levelled at you, and, take 
 it on my faith . . . through the breast or at the eyes 
 I stick you with my hand." Dietrich objects that 
 he bears his armour, whilst Hildebrand only has 
 a shield, with a silken shirt. The old man replies 
 that he knows not Dietrich to be so wise or his 
 arm so big as to hurt him. They fight till Dietrich 
 has the better of him, when Hildebrand tells Diet- 
 rich that he has only done it to prove him, and 
 Dietrich in turn says that his blood is so warmed 
 that he is ready to withstand Sifrit, of whom we 
 may observe that whilst his possession of the 
 Niblungs' hoard is mentioned, and his conquest 
 over Albrich, his invulnerableness is not. Another 
 striking scene is that of Sifrit's encounter with 
 Hayme or Heime, the striking of the famous sword 
 Nagelring out of the latter's hand, so that it flies
 
 BITEROLF: THE DIETRICH LEGENDS. 191 
 
 high in air over three troops of fighters, and the 
 struggle between the two hosts for the possession 
 of the sword, which is at last seized by Dietrich. 
 Indeed, but for the sameness, there is no doubt 
 considerable vigour in the whole narrative of the 
 great battle. 
 
 The poem, it should be observed, appears to 
 belong mainly to the Dietrich sub-cycle. Dietrich, 
 it will be observed, is already represented as a 
 match for Sifrit, when fairly stirred up. It is not 
 uninteresting, in viewing the relation of perfect 
 friendship and faithfulness shewn by the German 
 poems between Etzel and Dietrich, to compare the 
 very different version of the Hungarian chron- 
 icles, as analyzed by M. Amedee Thierry. Here, 
 on the arrival of the Huns under Attila, Theo- 
 doric and an imaginary Lombard hero defeat the 
 former on the plains of the Danube, in a tre- 
 mendous imaginary battle of Tarnok Welg, in 
 which the Huns lose 125,000 men, but the victors 
 the still greater number of 200,000, and after which 
 the vanquished pursue the victors, and in turn de- 
 feat them a little below Vienna. Wounded by an 
 arrow in the forehead, Theodoric refuses to have 
 it pulled out, but rides with it in hot haste to 
 Rome, to shew the imminence of the danger; for 
 which, says the Hungarian chronicler of the fifteenth
 
 IQ2 BITEROLF: THE DIETRICH LEGENDS. 
 
 century, Thwroczi, he is called Theodoric the im- 
 mortal, 'Halathalon Ditrek,' till this day. The 
 kings of Germany now bring their homage, and 
 Theodoric, unsupported, becomes himself Attila's 
 vassal, but treacherously suggests various danger- 
 ous expeditions, to lure him on to his ruin ; a part 
 which, as before mentioned, Theodoric continues 
 to play after Attila's death, by exciting his sons 
 against each other. 
 
 Nor can we, in dealing with the Dietrich sub- 
 cycle, overlook those popular traditions of the 
 middle ages which, through inability to canonize 
 the Arian hero, represent him as descending alive 
 on horseback in full armour into Etna; or those 
 which exhibit him as a sort of national male 
 banshee for- Germany. Thus Godfrey, monk of 
 Cologne, writing in the middle of the thirteenth 
 century, in his 'Annals' for the year 1197, speaks 
 of the appearance on the banks of the Moselle of 
 ' a phantom of wondrous size, sitting on horseback 
 in human form/ that of Theodoric, coming forth 
 to foretell various calamities for the empire.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 GUDRUN. 
 
 NEXT in value to the ' Nibelungenlied' in the 
 Norse-German cycle, though without other con- 
 nexion with it than the mere names of a few of its 
 personages, but linked already with ' Biterolf and 
 mingling with the stream of later legend, is the 
 poem of ' Gudrun' (Chautrun), in metre belonging 
 to the thirteenth century apparently, but which 
 through Biterolf can be traced in some shape at 
 least to the twelfth.* 
 
 It must be clearly kept in view that the ' Gu- 
 drun' who gives her name to the . poem has no 
 more connexion with her of the ' Edda' than has 
 
 * Since the pages which follow were written, has appeared Miss 
 Letherbrow's "Gudrun, a Story of the North Sea" (1863), nominally 
 a "free prose version" of the poem, but in fact a complete recasting 
 of it, not always, I venture to think, a judicious one. To Miss 
 Letherbrow's Preface I may however refer the reader for an account 
 of the MS. of Gudrun, and of modern German translations and 
 theories on the poem, and to her " Introduction" for some specula- 
 tions as to the localities referred to in it. 
 
 VOL. I. O
 
 IQ4 GUDRUN. 
 
 the ' Hagen', one of its chief heroes, with the 
 ' Nibelungenlied'. Hagen is the son of a king of 
 Iceland named Sigebant, and is afterwards king 
 himself; his especial appellation is that of the 
 'wild' Hagen, probably derived from the story of 
 his childhood. At a great festival celebrated by 
 his father, he is carried away, a boy of seven, by 
 a griffin* to his nest. One of the young griffins 
 lays his claw on him, but in flying from tree to 
 tree he lets him fall. The child hides himself, and 
 so escaping, discovers three young maids, all kings' 
 daughters, who had been brought in like manner. 
 They all maintain themselves together for awhile, 
 hiding from the griffins, living on wild herbs, till 
 a crusading host is shipwrecked on the coast. The 
 griffins fly down to carry away the dead bodies; 
 the boy creeps down too, and finding a dead man 
 in armour, puts it on himself. The old griffin 
 swoops down upon him, he defends himself, and 
 with the drowned man's sword hews off the bird's 
 leg and kills him, and then exterminates the whole 
 brood one after the other in like manner. He now 
 bids his companions come forth without fear; be- 
 comes a most expert archer, hunter, fisher; grows 
 
 * I adopt this term from Miss Letherbrow. There is nothing 
 however in the text, I think, to show that any fabulous monster is 
 meant, but simply a vulture or other huge bird of prey.
 
 GUDRUN. 195 
 
 till he has the strength of twelve men. But they 
 are all tired of their exile, and seek to depart. 
 Travelling along the sea-shore they see a ship, 
 and Hagen calls to it. The sailors fear "wild 
 mer-children" when they see the maidens on the 
 beach. But the Count of Carady, who is on board 
 on a pilgrimage, puts forth in a boat and takes 
 them in. He asks the maidens who they are. The 
 eldest is daughter of the king of India ; the 
 middle one, of the lord of Portugal, the youngest, 
 of the lord of Iceland. Wild Hagen in turn de- 
 clares his parentage ; on hearing which, the Count 
 says he must retain him as a hostage for all the 
 harm which his friends have done to him in Carady. 
 Hagen is wroth, and bids the sailors steer towards 
 Ireland. On their refusal, he throws thirty of them 
 into the water, and can scarcely be stopped by his 
 three companions from killing the Count. The 
 ship's course is now directed towards Ireland ; on 
 his arrival, the Count sends twelve of the pilgrims 
 to announce to king Sigeband that they are bring- 
 ing back his son. The king at first Deceives them 
 roughly and discredits their story ; but on hearing 
 a message from Hagen himself as to a golden cross 
 which he bears on his breast, the mother feels it 
 must be her son, and the king and queen ride off 
 to meet him. " With weeping eyes she kissed him
 
 196 GUDRUN. 
 
 on the mouth ; ' Before I was sick, now am I whole. 
 Be welcome, Hagen, my only child ! Now may all 
 well take comfort that are here with Sigeband.' " 
 Rich garments are put on the young damsels ; the 
 king and the Count of Carady are reconciled. 
 
 Young Hagen grows up to full manhood, and 
 acquires great renown. He marries one of his 
 companions in misfortune, fair Hilda of India. 
 The nuptials are celebrated with great splendour, 
 and after them Sigeband abdicates in favour of his 
 son, who rules with great rigour towards wrong- 
 doers, of whom he has ' eighty or more' beheaded 
 in a year, and with great success against his 
 enemies, so that he comes to be called the " Way- 
 land of all kings." A fair daughter is borne to 
 him, who is named Hilda after her mother. By 
 the time she is twelve, so comely is she that all 
 wealthy princes begin to sue for wild Hagen's 
 daughter. But her father is so proud that he will 
 give her to no suitor ; a prince of Denmark who 
 makes the venture loses life and honour for his 
 pains. 
 
 Now there was a mighty king at Hegelingen in 
 Friesland, young Hettel, who had lost both father 
 and mother, and who was advised by his best 
 counsellors to take a wife. Young Morung of 
 Nifland suggests the fair daughter of Hagen of
 
 GUDRUN. 197 
 
 Ireland. The king objects that many a noble man 
 has lost his life on her account But send, says 
 Morung, to Horant, who well knows Hagen and 
 his ways ; without his help it shall never prosper. 
 From Daneland, over which he was lord, Horant 
 comes to his sovereign's bidding with sixty of his 
 men, bold Frute among them. On being ques- 
 tioned by the king, he declares that he never saw 
 a fairer than Hilda of Ireland. But he declines to 
 go as messenger to sue for her hand, since all such 
 are hanged or slain by Hagen. Frute suggests 
 that Wate of Sturmen, Horant's uncle, who had 
 brought up king Hettel, should be sent as mes- 
 senger. Wate comes with twelve of his men, and 
 is heartily greeted by the king. But on learning 
 what is sought of him, he is wroth : " He who has 
 told thee this, if I were to die this day, it would 
 not grieve him." He declares at once that it must 
 be Frute and Horant who have given this advice, 
 and summons them to go with him. Horant is 
 nothing loth ; Frute only advises that they take 
 seven hundred men with them on "a ship of 
 cypress-wood, fast and good," with plenty of good 
 armour, good victuals and rich presents. Wate is 
 of the same opinion. The king bids that no ex- 
 pense be spared ; the ship's rudder glows all red 
 with gold, the anchor is of silver. At the appointed
 
 198 GUDRUN. 
 
 time Wate rides in from Sturmen, his horses heavy 
 with silver and apparel, four hundred men with 
 him. Swift Morung comes from Friesland with two 
 hundred knights, brave Horant from Denmark, 
 Yrolt from Ortland, " though the king never gave 
 him his garments ;" a thousand or more willing 
 messengers were ready at king Hettel's bidding. 
 A hundred are chosen to lie concealed in the ship ; 
 the whole number of the expedition, knights and 
 serving men, was "thirty hundred." 'When you 
 see us nearing,' says Horant, ' you shall behold the 
 fair maiden ;' sad however the king remained at 
 their departure. 
 
 They leave ; a north wind fills their sails. On 
 the wild sea some are sad for discomfort ; but dis- 
 comfort is the lot of him who "tills the waves." 
 Over a thousand miles of water they sail to Hagen's 
 castle at Balian. They give themselves out as 
 merchants, come from a far country, having rich 
 lords on board their ship ; when taken before 
 Hagen, they give him a thousand marks' worth of 
 jewels, and full twenty thousand on the reception 
 of Horant and Yrolt at court. After sharing all 
 with his knights, Hagen asks Horant whence they 
 come. Horant replies that they are banished folk, 
 driven out by a mighty king, Hettel of Hegelingen. 
 Hagen offers, if they will stay with him, to share
 
 GUDRUN. 199 
 
 his land with them. He has lodgings prepared for 
 them in the city, where they astonish and delight 
 all by their liberality; only the knights who re- 
 main hidden in the ship would fainer be in hard 
 battle-storms than on such an errand. 
 
 The young queen wishes to see the generous 
 strangers. Her father invites them to a feast; they 
 come in the richest of apparel. The queen rises at 
 their coming; the king "bade them be seated, as 
 one does to guests." The best of wine is brought ; 
 the queen leaves, begging Hagen to send the guests 
 to her room. Wate goes in first, a broad-bearded 
 man. The queen and her daughter begin to joke 
 him, asking whether he would rather be sitting by 
 fair ladies than be fighting in hard strife ? Wate 
 replies that though he never sate so softly by fair 
 ladies, yet it would be easier for him to fight in full 
 hard battle-strife. The lovely maiden laughs to 
 see which he prefers. The queen advises him to 
 remain, and bids them be always welcome at court, 
 and sit without shame by the ladies. Great re- 
 joicings take place ; Horant is much beloved by 
 the ladies ; old Wate wins the king's friendship. 
 Pretending himself ignorant of fencing, he takes 
 a lesson from a fence-master, from whose hand 
 Hagen takes the foil, declaring that he will teach 
 his guest his four strokes. But Wate was in fact
 
 200 GUDRUN. 
 
 a consummate fencer ; Hagen soon recognizes 
 Wate's mastership, and is half angry ; the conflict 
 goes on till the buttons fly off, when they stop. 
 Yrolt now tells him that fencing is the daily 
 pastime of knight and serving-man in their lord's 
 country. "'Had I known it," says Hagen, "the 
 foil had never come in my hand ; never saw I 
 youth learn so quickly.' Many a noble mother's 
 son laughs at the speech." 
 
 It came to pass one evening, that Horant sang 
 with voice so masterly that it pleased every one. 
 The old queen heard it from the window, and begged 
 him for a gift to sing every evening. " As the 
 night had ended and it began to dawn, Horant 
 began to sing, so that in the hedges all the birds 
 held their peace at his sweet song ; the people that 
 slept there remained not long lying." Ever higher 
 and better he lifts his song ; Hagen hears it, and 
 rises to listen ; his daughter and her maidens mark 
 how the birds lose their notes through the song. 
 Women and men all thank him ; Hagen's heroes 
 declare there is no one so sick but he might get 
 well by hearing such a voice. When he has done 
 singing, the young queen goes and begs her father 
 to bid him sing again. He declares he is ready 
 to give the singer 1000 pounds if he will sing again 
 at eve.
 
 GUDRUN. 201 
 
 The evening comes ; the sick and the whole 
 cannot leave the place where Horant sings. " The 
 beasts in the wood let their food stand ; the worms 
 that should go in the grass, the fish that should 
 swim in the wave, leave their purpose." When he 
 has done, the choirs of the priests, the sound of 
 the bells, no longer seem what they were ; all that 
 have heard Horant long after him. The young 
 queen gives twelve purses of gold to her cham- 
 berlain to go and bid him come and sing to her 
 in her chamber. He comes, and sings a song of 
 Amile, "which never Christian man learnt since 
 nor before, save he heard it on the wild flute." 
 The fair maid thanks him and gives him her hand, 
 " not gold was so good." Pressed to accept 
 rewards, he will take nothing but a girdle to give 
 to his master. She asks who his master is ? " I never 
 saw so rich a king," he replies, and tells how for the 
 love of her they have all been sent to the country. 
 She declares that she would willingly be the king's 
 wife, could Horant sing to her at eve and at morn. 
 He tells her that his lord has daily at his court 
 twelve who can sing far better than himself; yet 
 howsoever sweet their song, his lord sings best of 
 all. She says that but for her father she would 
 willingly follow them from hence. Morung now 
 tells her that they have 700 knights, ready to share
 
 202 GUDRUN. 
 
 with them both the lieve and the loth; they will ask 
 leave to depart, and then let her beg of Hagen per- 
 mission for herself and her mother to visit the ship. 
 The high-chamberlain comes and interrupts them, 
 asking who has allowed the two strangers to be 
 there ? She tries to appease him. " Is it," he 
 asks, " the knight who can sing so well ?" He 
 knew one just such, whose mother and his own 
 father were children of one father ; his name was 
 Horant of Daneland. The eyes of the knights 
 moisten, a recognition takes place, and the cham- 
 berlain declares that he will be their protector, 
 whereupon they confide to him their design. All 
 being now ready, on the fourth day they beg of 
 Hagen leave to depart, since Hettel has sent to 
 say that he is willing for reconcilement, but request 
 that " your fair daughter and my lady your wife" 
 may come and see what they have. The king says 
 he will go himself. 
 
 On the morrow morning, after the time of early 
 mass, maids and wives array themselves to go 
 under Hagen's leading to the sands, with them 
 looo good knights of Ireland. The anchors were 
 all heaved ; the chests stood open on the sand for 
 the queens to see. The old queen is separated 
 from her daughter ; up spring the armed men, sails 
 are hoisted, and in spite of Hagen's fury, the
 
 GUDRUN. 203 
 
 guests escape with their prize. They hasten over 
 seas to Daneland, where Hettel receives his bride 
 and her maidens (among whom is Hilburga, or 
 Hildeburg, of Portugal, one of the damsels carried 
 away by the griffin) with great joy. But as they 
 sate among the flowers, Hagen was near. 
 
 As the night began to fall, Horant the brave 
 knight of Daneland saw a sail with a cross, well 
 he knew it ; " for such pilgrims had old Wate 
 little love." The Danes arm themselves in haste ; 
 Hagen's ship presses on to the sand, he leaps in 
 great wrath into the water ; a shower of arrows 
 white as snow pours on him ; Hettel advances 
 to meet his father-in-law ; a wonder it was that 
 he could withstand Hagen at all, so strong was 
 he. But he receives a wound, and his men coming 
 up part him from Hagen. The latter breaks 
 through the press, dealing deadly blows, throwing 
 behind him " many a noble knight, of whom never 
 more shall the tale be told in his country, how 
 he fared in the strife." Old Wate engages him, 
 and a fierce conflict ensues. Hagen breaks his 
 war-pike on Wate's shield, but wounds him on 
 the head. The dead and wounded lie on all sides. 
 Hettel, whose wounds are bound, calls to Hagen : 
 " By your own honour, let your hate have an 
 end, that our friends die no more." Grirn was
 
 204 GUDRUN. 
 
 Hagen's mood ; wherefore should the strife be 
 parted ? he loudly asks. " I am Hettel of the 
 land of Hegeling, who sent his dear men so far 
 after the lady Hilda." Hagen allows himself to 
 be appeased, and peace is concluded. Yet many 
 suffer " from the deep wounds they have brought 
 from the strife ; many were there found who never 
 more thought of need and strife." King Hettel 
 sends for Wate, who was known to have been 
 " medicined by a wild woman." He comes with 
 " a good root" in his hand, and a box containing 
 a plaister. " Sweet Hilda, the fair queen," entreats 
 him to heal her father and his knights, as well 
 as the knights of Hegelingen, who " have wetted 
 the sand with blood, like a rain." He refuses to 
 do so till the reconcilement be complete, which 
 is effected by Hagen's reception of his daughter. 
 The sick are now healed, and Hagen and his men 
 nobly entertained for twelve days, and loaded with 
 gifts at their departure. Hagen recommends his 
 daughter to Hildeburg, and on his return tells the 
 old queen that he could never have better bestowed 
 his daughter, and that had he more daughters, he 
 would send them to Hegelingen. 
 
 Hettel lived in great honour and happiness with 
 his wife, who bore him two children ; a son, Ort- 
 wein, who was sent to be brought up by Wate ;
 
 GUDRUN. 2O5 
 
 and a daughter, Gudrun, who grew up to still 
 greater beauty than her mother, and was sought 
 in marriage by many noble princes. King Seyfrid 
 of Moorland (who seems afterwards treated as 
 king of Carady) came to Hettel's court to sue for 
 her, but was dismissed. King Hartmut of Or- 
 many, son of king Ludwig, sends an embassy 
 to ask for her hand, but meets with the like 
 refusal, even when he pleads again in person. 
 Young Herwig of Seeland, her neighbour, courts 
 her also, till Hettel bids him cease from his suit. 
 Herwig raises a host of 3000 men, and " one cool 
 morning" comes before Hettel's city. " While yet 
 they slept in Hettel's hall, there called a watcher 
 from over the fortress ' Up, up ! strange guests 
 have we ! arm yourselves, ye heroes, and see the 
 gleam of many a helm !' They sprang from their 
 beds and lay there no longer ; whoever was within, 
 poor man or lord, must needs take heed for his 
 honour and eke for his life ; so sought Herwig 
 his wife in battle-storm." Sharp is the fight ; 
 wrathful is king Hettel, but valiant is Herwig; 
 Gudrun looks on, and is both lieve and loth. At 
 last she calls down to the knights : " Hettel, lord 
 father, now flows down the blood through the 
 hauberks, our walls are breached on all sides; an 
 evil neighbour is Herwig ; for my sake ye shall 
 make peace."
 
 206 GUDRUN. 
 
 The strife is parted. With a hundred of his 
 knights Herwig goes before the queens. He fears, 
 he says, that he may have displeased Gudrun 
 through his lightness. ' Who were the lady/ she 
 replies, ' who would be displeased by such service ? 
 believe me, it displeases me not; no maid that 
 you ever saw could be more friendly to you than 
 I would be ; if but my next friends would consent, 
 I would be by you always according to your own 
 will.' " With loving glances he looked her under 
 the eyes." By her father and mother's leave he 
 courts her now ; " before the damsel stood the 
 good hero, as if wrought by a master's hand on 
 a white board."* If she will love him, he tells her, 
 all his cities and all his men shall serve her. She 
 replies (changing " you" to " thou") that she will 
 part all hate between him and her kin ; he shall 
 ever have joy with her. She is given to him to 
 wife, but her mother would not part with her for 
 a year, during which time he is advised to spend 
 his time " with fair women elsewhere." 
 
 Meanwhile, however, Seyfrid of Moorland had 
 prepared an expedition against Herwig; 80,000 
 heroes, with twenty strong ships. They reach 
 Herwig's land, and put all to fire and sword. 
 
 * "Wand." Miss Letherbrow translates "parchment." The 
 word may be understood in several senses, but none seems to me 
 less likely than this.
 
 GUDRUN. 2O7 
 
 After a valiant resistance, he sends to solicit aid 
 from Gudrun. Hettel willingly agrees to go to 
 his son-in-law's assistance, and summons Wate and 
 Horant, Morung and his son Ortwein. A twelve 
 days' battle is fought ; on the thirteenth day the 
 invaders retire. But Hartmut's spies have seen 
 all, and before Hettel can return to Hegelingen, 
 by his mother Gerlint's counsel, Hartmut and his 
 father invade the country, and through the fool- 
 hardiness of Hettel's knights, who instead of closing 
 the gates go out to meet them, carry away Gudrun 
 from the city of Matalan, with two-and-sixty ladies, 
 and many a lovely maid. 
 
 Queen Hilda sends news to her husband and 
 son-in-law that her daughter is taken, her heroes 
 are slain, her gold and gems carried away by the 
 men of Ormany. Great is the sorrow of the kings 
 and all their men at the news. By Wate's advice, 
 peace is made with king Seyfrid of Moorland, 
 and his aid secured against Hartmut and Ludwig. 
 They are at a loss for ships ; but Wate takes pos- 
 session of some ships which had brought pilgrims, 
 on which five hundred or more of Hettel's best 
 men embark. 
 
 Ludwig and Hartmut were far away, on the 
 broad Wulpenstrand ; seven nights they dwelt 
 there with the fair ladies ; so far were they from
 
 208 GUDRUN. 
 
 Matalan that they thought of no hurt to come 
 from Wate and his men. A ship appears ; crosses 
 are on the sails ; they deem it is but pilgrims. 
 More ships follow ; they come so near that helmets 
 are seen on board. The men of Ormany seize 
 their shields ; dread is the conflict ; never saw one 
 snow fall so thick as the shafts. Wate and Ludwig 
 fight, the latter scarcely escapes ; " an evil guest" 
 is Wate to his foes. All the day long the hard 
 strife lasted ; grimly wept Gudrun and the other 
 ladies. Ludwig and Hettel fight ; the latter is 
 killed ; grim Wate hears of it, and rages like a 
 boar ; evening-red shines many a helmet under 
 his swift strokes. In the falling night Horant kills 
 one of his own kinsmen. " Murder has been done," 
 cries Herwig, and bids his men cease from strife 
 till the morrow. But in the night, by Ludwig's 
 craft, the enemy make off unperceived. By the 
 time the men of Denmark are aware of their 
 departure, it is deemed too late to pursue them. 
 The dead are buried with great solemnity ; a 
 cloister of Hospitallers is founded on the spot. But 
 sorrowful is the return journey ; only old Wate 
 ventures to present himself before the lady Hilda, 
 to tell her the evil news. Compensation is made 
 to the pilgrims who had been despoiled of their 
 ships, and a new expedition is prepared for Gu- 
 drun's rescue.
 
 GUDRUN. 209 
 
 Meanwhile Hartmut and his party were nearing 
 Ormany, Ludwig's stronghold. He bids Gudrun 
 cheer up and love his son. She would rather be 
 dead, she replies. He takes her by the hair and 
 flings her into the sea. Hartmut rescues her, and 
 declares that were it any one else than his father, 
 he would have taken from him both life and 
 honour. 
 
 They reach the coast of Ormany, where Hart-^ 
 mut's mother, queen Gerlint, and her daughter 
 Ortrun, give them a magnificent reception. But 
 Gudrun declines to kiss Gerlint, through whose 
 counsel she has suffered so much woe. She refuses 
 to be comforted ; her eyes and cheeks are seldom 
 dry; in spite of Ortrun's affection, of Hartmut's 
 constant service, of Gerlint's offer to hand over the 
 crown to her, she declares that she can never love 
 the young king. Gerlint now asks him to hand 
 over the lady to her, that she may bring her 
 to reason. Hartmut begs her at least, since the 
 maid is unhappy, to teach her kindly ; so much 
 woe hath he wrought her, she may well turn away 
 from his service. But the " evil deviless" declares 
 to Gudrun that since she will not have joy, she 
 must have pain. She parts her from all the fair 
 maids her companions ; noble duchesses have to 
 wind yarn ; Heregart, the best of all, has to carry 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 GUDRUN. 
 
 water to Ortrun's chamber; the daughter of a 
 prince who had strongholds and lands, she must 
 heat the oven with her white hands (though after- 
 wards, we are told, she marries the queen's butler, 
 and becomes a powerful duchess). For four years 
 and a-half the maidens are thus treated, till Hart- 
 mut has returned from three campaigns. He asks 
 his dear one to be shown to him ; he sees that 
 she has had but little comfort and good food, and 
 asks his mother why she has so acted. " We slew 
 dead her men, so many a knight, we made the lady 
 Gudrun an orphan, my father slew her father." 
 Gerlint replies that were they to follow Gudrun 
 for thirty years she would not be reconciled to 
 him. Hartmut says he desires her more and more ; 
 not knowing that she disliked him always more. 
 He still leaves Gudrun with Gerlint, who now tells 
 her she must dust stools and benches with her 
 hair, do her room three times a day, and kindle 
 the fire in it. Seven years she works, as king's 
 child never worked. By the ninth year, Hartmut 
 is advised by his friends to get himself crowned, 
 and to bring anyhow the fair maid to his will. 
 Still she repels him, declaring she is a foe to him 
 and all his kin, and will never trust him. "You 
 know well," he replies, " Gudrun, that mine own 
 are the lands and the farms and the folk also;
 
 GUDRUN. 211 
 
 what should hinder me from winning you to me 
 for a bride ?" " It would be ill done," she answers ; 
 ' other princes would say that Hagen's child is a 
 harlot in Hartmut's land.' "What need I care 
 what they did ?" he asked : " if it should seem good 
 to you, lady, I would be king and you queen." 
 " Be without care," she said, " never will I love you 
 willingly." She enumerates her wrongs, declares 
 that were she a knight, his father Ludwig should 
 seldom dare come to her unarmed. It is the 
 custom till now that no woman ever take a man 
 but by their joint will. Since God has forgotten 
 her, she suffers willingly all her many sorrows. 
 He now puts her in charge of his sister Ortrun, 
 begging her to win her favour for him. Gudrun 
 is offered cities and land, fed with good meat and 
 drink till her colour becomes once more rose-red. 
 Still she is obdurate, till at last Hartmut leaves 
 the land, since he is so hated. The evil Gerlint 
 now makes Gudrun serve her again, and bids her 
 wash clothes on the sands, where she has to stand 
 from morning till night. Hildeburg sees her and 
 obtains permission to wash with her. They have 
 to wash thus for six years and a-half. 
 
 Meanwhile Hilda was always preparing an ex- 
 pedition to rescue her daughter; seven strong 
 ships with two-and-twenty pinnaces, which were
 
 212 GUDRUN. 
 
 the delight of her eyes. When they are ready, she 
 sends round messengers to Herwig, Horant, Mo- 
 rung, Wate ; to Ortwein her son, who was flying 
 his hawk under a " bird-rich" tree. All come 
 gladly. Horant is made standard-bearer ; she 
 earnestly recommends her son, not yet twenty, 
 to the knights. The ladies weep much at their 
 departure, but Hilda stops the weeping ; she will 
 have the knights go forth with joy, and clang of 
 music, and singing ; only when they have left the 
 ladies stand at the windows, and follow them with 
 their eyes as far as they can from Matalan town. 
 The masts crack, a good wind comes, many a sail 
 is stretched. On the Wulpenstrand they join forces 
 with ten thousand men of the king of Carady, 
 i.e. Seyfrid. Twenty-four pinnaces he has, and 
 victuals more than enough for twenty years. Pro- 
 ceeding on their course, they are stopped for some 
 while at Gyfers before the load-stone mountain, 
 but a western wind releases them. They reach 
 the shores of the neighbouring coast to Ormany, 
 and land on a wild part of the coast, drawing their 
 ships on to the sands. Yrolt mounts a very high 
 tree, and descries the seven palaces and the hall 
 of Ormany itself. That night they rest ; on the 
 morrow they consider whom they shall send for 
 messengers before them to Gudrun. " I will be
 
 GUDRUN. 213 
 
 messenger," says Ortwein ; " Gudrun is my sister 
 by her father and her mother." " I will be the 
 other," says king Herwig ; " I will die by thee 
 or succeed ; if the maid were thy sister, she was 
 given to me for wife." Wate advises them to do 
 nothing of the kind, since if Hartmut is aware of 
 them, he will have them hanged on a gallows. 
 They insist however on undertaking the venture. 
 Ortwein begs the knights to avenge them if they 
 should perish, and at whatever cost of labour to 
 themselves, not to leave behind them the sorrowful 
 ladies before having engaged a fight. 
 
 Now as Gudrun and Hildeburg were washing 
 on the sands about midday, a bird came flying 
 down. Gudrun spoke to it : " Ah, me ! fair bird, 
 I pity thee so much, to have flown so far over 
 the sea-flood." With a man's voice God's angel 
 began to answer her, and offered to give her news 
 of her friends. Gudrun asks about her mother, 
 about Ortwein and Herwig, Yrolt and Morung, 
 Horant, Wate, and Frute. She learns of the host 
 which Hilda has sent for her rescue, and that all 
 the friends she has named form part of it, and also 
 of the coming of the messengers. The angel dis- 
 appears ; the ladies go on washing, and talking 
 of the heroes. At night they return home, and 
 are found fault with by evil Gerlint. She com-
 
 214 GUDRUN. 
 
 plains of their idleness, declares that they must 
 wash her linen early and late, be out as soon as 
 it is day. Palm-Sunday is nigh, and guests are 
 coming, whose clothes must be washed white. 
 They go from her, and put off their wet clothes ; 
 sorry was their food, nor soft their bed ; they slept 
 but on hard benches. As they go to the window 
 in the morning, the snow lies on the ground. They 
 go to the queen, and beg at least for shoes, lest 
 by washing barefoot they should be frozen to 
 death. She refuses ; what were their death to her ? 
 They go forth to the sands to wash as usual, 
 looking over the sea for the announced messengers. 
 Long had they waited, when they saw coming 
 over the sea two men alone in a boat. Hildeburg 
 thinks it may be the messengers. Gudrun is taken 
 with a sudden shame at being found washing, and 
 cannot bear to wait for them. As they are going 
 off, the messengers call after them, asking whose 
 the clothes are ; by the honour of all maids they 
 beg them to return. Thus adjured, they come 
 back in their shifts all wet, shivering in the cold 
 March winds amid the snow and the ice, blocks 
 of which were swaying on the sea. Their hair was 
 loose ; through their shifts shone white as snow 
 their lovely bodies. Noble Herwig bade them 
 good morning ; dear to them now were such words
 
 GUDRUN. 215 
 
 as "good morning" and "good evening." 'Whose 
 are these rich clothes on the sand ?' asks Ortwein ; 
 ' for whom are ye washing ? so fair are ye both, who 
 wrongs you ? so right fair are ye, ye might wear 
 crowns. Hath your master yet more of such fair 
 washers?' ' He hath many fairer than we may be,' 
 she replies. 'But ask what ye will, for we must 
 depart ; evil hap is ours if we be seen to speak 
 with you.' ' Whose then is this heritage, and this 
 rich land, and the good cities, and how is he 
 named ?' On hearing the names of Hartmut and 
 Ludwig, Ortwein asks further how they can find 
 the princes. Gudrun replies that they left them in 
 the city at early morn with eighty hundred men. 
 Whom do they fear, asked Herwig, to be always 
 sitting with heroes around them ? Gudrun replies 
 that they are always in fear of foes from a far land 
 called Hegelingen. 
 
 As they spoke, the fair maids shivered with the 
 cold. If it might not seem a shame to you, noble 
 maidens, asks Herwig, would ye not bear our 
 mantles on the sand ? But Hilda's daughter de- 
 clares that no eye shall ever see men's garments 
 upon her. " Oft Herwig looked on the damsel ; 
 so fair she seemed to him and so shapely too, that 
 in his heart it made him oft to sigh, so like she 
 was to one, of whom full oft he thought lovingly."
 
 2l6 GUDRUN. 
 
 Have they ever heard of the coming of a great 
 army into the land, among which was one called 
 Gudrun ? Ortwein now asks. There came such 
 a host, it is now long since, she replies ; full sorrow- 
 fully came the ladies to land ; she whom you seek, 
 I saw her lately in great labours. Sir Ortwein, says 
 Herwig, if your sister Gudrun be yet living any- 
 where, this is she, I never saw any one so like to 
 her. At the mention of Ortwein's name, Gudrun 
 in turn tells the speaker that he is like one whom 
 she knew, Herwig of Seeland ; were he alive, the 
 hero would loose them from their captivity. But 
 she is herself the only one who was brought over 
 sea by Hartmut ; the maid of Hegelingen is dead 
 in great labours. Tears start from the heroes' 
 eyes ; She was my wife, exclaims Herwig. Ye 
 would deceive me, says the poor maid ; I have 
 been told of Herwig's death ; were he alive, he 
 would have borne me hence. Look at my hand, 
 says the noble knight, whether you know the gold 
 [ring] whereby I was affianced to Gudrun ; if you 
 are my wife, I will bear you hence. She looked at 
 his hand, she saw the shining ring with a precious 
 gem set in it ; she herself at one time had worn it 
 on her hand. ' The ring that was mine I recognize 
 well,' she says ; ' see too this one that my sweet- 
 heart sent, when I, poor maid, was with joy in my
 
 GUDRUN. 217 
 
 father's land.' He looked in turn at her ring; 
 " now have I, after many a sorrow, seen my joy 
 and my bliss." He clasped the maiden in his 
 arms, he kissed her I know not how oft, her and 
 Hildeburg the lovely maid. ' But could ye do no 
 other service in this land,' asks Ortwein, 'than to 
 wash clothes ? and where are your maidens that 
 they should let you wash alone ?' ' Where can 
 I find them ?' she asks weeping. ' Well have we 
 prospered in our journey,' says lord Herwig; 'now 
 must we see to bring them away.' ' Had I a 
 hundred sisters,' replies Ortwein, I would rather 
 let them die than to steal away from my grim foes 
 those who were taken from me in battle-storm.' 
 ' My anguish is,' says the hero of Seeland, ' lest if 
 they become aware of us, they bear away the 
 maidens so far that we cannot discover them.' 
 ' And how are we to leave here,' asks Ortwein, ' my 
 sister's noble following? Gudrun shall enjoy the 
 service of all her maids.' 'My darling I must 
 bear away with me,' says Herwig ; ' let us then 
 seek as we please for our ladies.' ' I had rather 
 be cut in pieces with my sister than do so,' Ortwein 
 replies. 'What have I done to thee, dear brother 
 Ortwein ?' pleads Gudrun ; ' I know not wherefore 
 thou shouldst thus punish me.' ' I do it not for 
 hate of thee, dear sister, but I cannot take thee
 
 2l8 GUDRUN. 
 
 away save with honour ; thou shalt yet have 
 Herwig thy betrothed lord.' 
 
 They went to the skiffs; the fair maid wept; 
 endless, she cries, is her sorrow. She calls after 
 Herwig: "Before I was the best, now men hold 
 me for the worst ; to whom dost thou leave me, or 
 wherewith shall I, poor orphan, comfort myself?" 
 " Thou art not the worst, thou must be the best ; 
 most noble queen, conceal my journey; ere the 
 sun shine to-morrow, I am here, I pledge it on my 
 troth, with 80,000 heroes." A hard parting was 
 that from friends. They followed the messengers 
 with their eyes as far as they could, they forgot 
 the washing. 'Why do you let these clothes lie 
 so ?' asks Hildeburg at last ; ' Gerlint will beat us, 
 never yet so sorely.' 'Never more will I wash 
 for Gerlint,' replies Gudrun ; 'two kings have 
 kissed me. Though one should beat me till to- 
 morrow, I trust I should not die, and those who 
 use us so ill, some of them must perish for it.' She 
 bears the clothes to the sea, she flings them with 
 her hands far upon the waves. 
 
 As night came, heavily went Hildeburg to the 
 city, yet bearing a bundle of her washing ; but 
 Gudrun went empty-handed. They are received 
 with scoldings and threats by Gerlint. Gudrun 
 tells her that the clothes were too heavy for her ;
 
 GUDRUN. 219 
 
 " if you never see them, on my truth it is very in- 
 different to me." The " deviless" bids her be bound 
 to a bed-post, meaning to flog her skin off with 
 thorns. Gudrun now " craftily" offers to buy her- 
 self off from punishment by bestowing her love on 
 Hartmut. Gerlint at once is pacified, and a mes- 
 senger runs in haste to Hartmut to tell the news, 
 asking for " messenger's bread" in reward. Hart- 
 mut will not at first believe him, but the news 
 being confirmed, he springs from his seat and 
 hastens joyous to the maid in her room. In her 
 wet shift she stood, and greeted him with tearful 
 eyes. He would have clasped her in his arms ; 
 ' Nay, Hartmut, do it not yet. I am but a poor 
 washerwoman, you a rich king; I will let you do 
 it when I stand under a crown before your knights 
 and am called a queen.' 'Shapely maiden,' he 
 replies, 'order what you please of me and my 
 friends.' She asks first for a "fair bath," then 
 that her maidens be brought to her. Three-and- 
 sixty are brought, who with loose hair and in 
 coarse clothes went about the court. She requires 
 them to be bathed and clothed. They are clad in 
 the best of garments that are to be found ; the 
 poorest of them might well suit a king. Gerlint 
 sends Ortrun to Gudrun; they embrace lovingly; 
 glad was Ortrun to see the noble washeress so
 
 220 GUDRUN. 
 
 winsomely clad. Craftily Gudrun now bids Hart- 
 mut send messengers throughout Ormany, sum- 
 moning all his best friends to court. A hundred 
 messengers or more are sent out, so diminishing 
 the number of the Hegelingers' foes. 
 
 When Gudrun and her maids withdraw to her 
 chamber at night, a plenteous feast is prepared for 
 them. Some of the maids of Hegelingen begin to 
 weep, thinking that for them there is no joy, since 
 they must dwell there all their lives. Gudrun 
 laughs, she that for fourteen years has known 
 no mirth. The " evil deviless" has heard it She 
 goes to Hartmut, declares to him that Gudrun 
 must have received a secret message from her 
 friends ; let him beware. ' Let be,' he replies, ' her 
 friends are so far off, I shall always be able well to 
 defend myself against them.' Gudrun now goes 
 to bed, the youths of Ormany bearing the light 
 before her ; more than thirty beds are there, with 
 rich bedclothes of silk and gold. When the door 
 is bolted, she tells her maids that she has kissed 
 this day Herwig her husband and Ortwein her 
 brother; the joyful time is at hand; if she can but 
 live to the hour when men shall call her queen, 
 she will largely make them recompense. Joyful 
 was their mood when they lay down to sleep. 
 
 Meanwhile Herwig and Ortwein had given ac-
 
 GUDRUN. 221 
 
 count to their men of their journey. The knights 
 weep to hear of Gudrun and Hildeburg being 
 found washing on the sands. This excites old 
 Wate's scorn : ' Ye behave like old wives,' he tells 
 them ; ' would ye help Gudrun out of her need, ye 
 should make the clothes red that her white hands 
 have washed.' He bids them all embark in silence, 
 and be ready against the morning ; he who would 
 conquer early on the morrow, he should not lie 
 long. When they hear his horn for the first time, 
 let them make ready for the strife ; at the second 
 blast let them go to their horses, at the third let 
 them sit on horseback in their armour ; but all 
 must wait till they see him ride armed behind fair 
 Hilda's banner. 
 
 High was the morning-star, when a fair maid 
 of Gudrun's going to a window and spying for the 
 day, saw the gleam of helmets and of bright 
 shields. The city was invested ; and all the field 
 shone with armour. She goes to her mistress : 
 ' Wake, noble maiden,' " our friends from home 
 have not forgotten us poor ones.' " The lady Gu- 
 drun sprang from her bed to the window, and saw 
 many a rich sail swaying over the sea. " Then 
 spake the noble maid : ' Now for the first time 
 I feel sad ; alas, me wretched one, that ever I had 
 life ! to-day shall one see die here many a worthy
 
 222 GUDRUN. 
 
 man.'" Loudly now cried Ludwig's watcher; 
 " Wake, lord Ludwig, thy city and thy land are 
 walled round with dire guests ; dear to-day shall 
 thy knights buy Gudrun's laugh." .Ludwig looks 
 out himself. ' Perhaps they are pilgrims,' he says ; 
 ' it must be told my son Hartmut.' Hartmut, who 
 says he knows all the banners in twenty lands, 
 goes with Ludwig to the window and sees the 
 host. " They lie a bit too near my city," says 
 Hartmut ; " no pilgrims are they, dear father 
 mine." He recognizes and describes one by one 
 the banners of the Moorish king, of Horant, Frute, 
 Morung, Ortwein, Hilda, Herwig, Yrolt. " A 
 battle-storm draws nigh," he concludes ; " now up, 
 all my men !" They spring from their beds, they 
 call for their bright armour, forty hundred knights 
 gird themselves. " What would you do, sir Hart- 
 mut ?" asks Gerlint ; " why would you lose your 
 life yourself, and all these heroes ? The foes will 
 slay you, if ye go out to them from the stronghold." 
 " Get you hence, mother," said the noble knight, 
 " you have nought to teach me and my men ; 
 advise your ladies, that may easily bear it, how 
 they may prick gems and gold on silk. Bid 
 Gudrun now go washing with her maids, as you 
 have done hitherto ; you think she hath no friends 
 nor following." .... Gerlint still urges him to close
 
 GUDRUN. 223 
 
 the gates and await a siege ; he has bread and 
 wine, good victual for a year. Let him guard his 
 honour and not lose his life ; let him cause bows 
 and cross-bows to be shot from the windows; ere 
 they have to use swords with the foe, she and her 
 maids will cast stones at them. Angrily Hartmut 
 bids her begone ; " before I be found shut up in 
 this city, I would rather die outside there among 
 Hilda's followers." Since he is resolved, " now 
 arm yourselves," says she to their men, "beside 
 my son, strike out from the helmets the glow of 
 the hot fire ! . . . . receive well the foes with deep 
 wounds." 
 
 The gates are opened ; thirty hundred men ride 
 out after Hartmut. Once, twice, thrice, did the 
 hero of Sturmenland (Wate) blow his horn. Whilst 
 Herwig's darling looks out from a battlement, the 
 hosts ride against one another ; as Hartmut rides 
 before his troop, all his armour shines against the 
 sun. Ortwein and Hartmut furnish the first course ; 
 Ortwein is wounded, as Horant after him. Her- 
 wig engages Ludwig ; either he must have his wife 
 back, or one of them must die. Herwig receives 
 a fall in the first instance, and is only saved by 
 his men. Ashamed of his ill-success before his 
 darling's eyes, he hastens after Ludwig again, 
 wounds him, and cuts off his head. Hartmut on
 
 224 GUDRUN. 
 
 the other hand, ignorant as yet of his father's 
 death, is so pressed that he withdraws into the 
 city, Wate reaching the gate almost at the same 
 time, under a shower of arrows; but Wate cares 
 little who lives or dies, so he conquer. Hartmut 
 looks out, and sees a foe at every one of the four 
 gates, the Moorish king at one, Ortwein at another, 
 Herwig at a third, old Wate at the fourth. He 
 cannot fly, he has no feathers ; he cannot go under 
 the earth, nor to the sea, because of the enemy ; 
 all that remains is to engage the foe. Dismounting 
 from their horses, they strive sword in hand at the 
 gates ; Hartmut seeks out grim Wate, and though 
 it was said he had the strength of six-and-twenty 
 men, yet young Hartmut " gave him knighthood," 
 and did well in the strife ; a marvel was it that he 
 died not by Wate's hand. 
 
 Suddenly he hears Gerlint cry out, offering 
 great reward to whoso should slay Gudrun and 
 her following. A faithless churl, greedy of wealth, 
 runs to do the deed ; and had not Hartmut seen 
 it, Gudrun's head would have been cut off. " She 
 forgot somewhat her virtue ; how loud she screamed, 
 as if about to die !" Hartmut knew her voice, and 
 seeing the murderer with his raised sword, calls 
 out to him that if he slay but one of the ladies, his 
 life is lost, and all his kin shall be hanged. The
 
 GUDRUN. 225 
 
 king had well-nigh lost his own life by saving 
 hers ; but Ortrun, wringing her hands, rushes to 
 Gudrun, and falling at her feet, "Take pity," she 
 cries, " child of a noble prince, of so many of my 
 folk who are here dead ! think how it was with 
 thee when thy father was slain !* noble queen, now 
 have I this day lost mine !" She urges Hartmut's 
 danger, recalls how she alone stood a friend to 
 Gudrun. Gudrun knows not how to part the strife ; 
 were she a knight to bear arms, gladly would she 
 part it, so that none should slay Ortrun's brother. 
 Ortrun wept with such anguish, she besought so 
 dearly, that at last the lady Gudrun went to the 
 window, and beckoned with the hand, and asked 
 if there were any there from her fatherland ? Her- 
 wig answers, at first without recognizing her. She 
 begs him to save Hartmut from old Wate. Herwig 
 calls for his banner, and hastens towards Wate, 
 calling to him from afar, in the names of the fair 
 maidens, to cease from strife. In scorn Wate 
 answered : " Herwig, now get you hence ! Should 
 I now follow ladies, what should I do with my 
 sense ? Should I spare the foes ?" For the love 
 of Gudrun Herwig sprang to them ; wroth was 
 Wate, and struck a stroke at Herwig. His knights 
 now leapt forward and helped Herwig thence, but 
 
 * Mi/TJffat irarpbs ffoio. . . . 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 GUDRUN. 
 
 Hartmut was made prisoner, with him eighty good 
 knights ; all the rest were slain. Nor was this the 
 end. Wate stormed the city, and all within was 
 destroyed or plundered ; of furs and silks, of silver 
 and gold, so much was carried forth as two ships 
 could not bear. Men and women were slain ; many 
 a child in the cradle lost there its life. " Strong 
 Yrolt called to Wate: 'What the d 1 have the 
 young children done to you ? No fault have they 
 of the slaughter of our men ; through God's honour 
 let the poor orphans have safety.' Said Wate the 
 old : ' A child's mind hast thou. They that weep 
 in the cradle, would it seem good to thee that 
 I let them live ? Were they to grow up, I would 
 trust them no more than a wild Saxon.'" 
 
 Sorrowful came Ortrun to Gudrun, beseeching 
 mercy, and obtains it for herself, and three-and- 
 thirty maidens, and two-and-sixty knights. Evil 
 Gerlint came also, beseeching mercy too. " Un- 
 merciful were you to me," replies Gudrun. Old 
 Wate heard it ; up he stood, with eager eyes, and 
 ell-broad beard, wet-clad, running over with blood ; 
 all dreaded him. Gudrun bade him be welcome. 
 "Are you Hilda's daughter?" he asks; "who are 
 these ladies that are so near to you?" "It is the 
 lady Ortrun," she replies, " whom you must spare ; 
 truly the ladies dread you much. The others are
 
 GUDRUN. 227 
 
 the poor ones whom Ludwig's host brought with 
 me over the sea from Hegelingen. You sweat 
 all with blood, come not so near to us ; the service 
 you have done us, make it not repulsive to us." 
 Wate went further, and found Herwig and Ortwein, 
 Yrolt and Morung and Frute, busy in slaying 
 many a good knight. But Heregart the young 
 duchess came, and begged mercy of Gudrun, de- 
 claring herself still in her following. Angrily did 
 Gudrun reproach her with the little heed she had 
 taken of her sufferings, yet bade her stand below 
 amongst her maids. But Wate was still seeking 
 for evil Gerlint, who stood in Gudrun's following. 
 Grimly he came through the hall : " My lady 
 Gudrun, give me here below Gerlint and her 
 friends, who made you to wash." " There is none 
 such here." Nearer he came in his wrath : " Will 
 ye quickly show me the right ones ?" A fair 
 maiden winked to him with her eyes, whereby he 
 knew the evil deviless : " Tell me," said he, " lady 
 Gerlint, will you have any more washing ?" He 
 took her by the hand, and dragged her thence : 
 " Lady queen, never more shall my damsel wash 
 your clothes." As he brought her before the 
 palace door, he took her by the hair and smote 
 her head off. Loud screamed the ladies. Wate 
 came back, and asked for Gerlint's kin. Weeping
 
 228 GUDRUN. 
 
 spoke Hettel's child, and implored him to leave her 
 those who had come to her for peace, noble Ortrun 
 and her following from Ormany. He spared these, 
 but asked for the lady Heregart, the young duchess, 
 who had given her love to the king's butler. In 
 vain they all begged she might be spared ; her 
 head he smote off too, so that the ladies began 
 to flee behind Gudrun. 
 
 And now came Herwig with his companions, 
 and was lovingly received by Gudrun. The princes 
 took counsel together, what to do with the good 
 city Cassiane. Wate advises it to be burned. Frute 
 on the contrary recommends that the dead be 
 carried out, the blood washed off the walls, the 
 city preserved. His advice is followed ; four thou- 
 sand or more dead bodies are thrown into the 
 sea ; Gudrun is placed under the keeping of Horant, 
 together with all their prisoners, a thousand men 
 remaining with them, whilst Wate and Frute with 
 thirty thousand men go out through the land, 
 wasting it with fire and sword. Six-and-twenty 
 cities are destroyed, and a thousand or more prison- 
 ers brought back. They now return to Hegelingen, 
 leaving Horant and Morung to keep the country, 
 and taking Hartmut with the prisoners, though 
 Wate cannot understand why they are not rather 
 slain at once.
 
 GUDRUN. 229 
 
 Swiftly they returned, the winds favouring them. 
 Their voyage had lasted a year when they reached 
 Matalan. Joyously did Hilda receive them. Her- 
 wig brings Ortrun by the hand. ' Kiss the lady- 
 maiden,' says Gudrun to her mother ; ' in my 
 distress she did me much service and honour.' 
 " I will kiss no one here, ere I know who be the 
 ladies, or how they are named, whom thou bidst 
 me kiss so friendlily." " It is Ortrun, the young 
 maid of the realm of Ormany." " I will not kiss 
 her ; why givest thou such counsel to me ? Were 
 I to bid her be killed, it would suit me far better ; 
 her folk have done me much sorrow; that which 
 I have wept over here was her kinsmen's best 
 spectacle." With tears at last Gudrun prevails 
 upon her mother to kiss Ortrun. Hildeburg comes 
 too, led by Frute. " Dear mother mine," said 
 Gudrun, " greet now Hildeburg ; can ought be 
 better than friendly faithfulness ? Whoso had a 
 kingdom of gold and precious stones, he should 
 give it to Hildeburg." "Well has it been told 
 me how with thee she has borne the lieve and the 
 loath ; never can I sit joyful under the crown, till 
 with right faithfulness I have rewarded her for the 
 service she did to thee." The knights are greeted 
 in their turn, and the " noble widow" treats all 
 for five days with abundant hospitality.
 
 23O GUDRUN. 
 
 And now Gudrun and Ortrun come and be- 
 seech Hilda to have mercy on Hartmut, who lies 
 yet bound. At first she declares that she can have 
 none, but yields at last, Ortrun pledging his ser- 
 vices. He is delivered from his chains, bathed, 
 richly clad and brought to court. No comelier 
 man was there ; " in all his sorrows he stood as if 
 he had been drawn well with a pencil." Kindly 
 the ladies look on him ; their old hatred lies ap- 
 peased ; they quite forget that their knights had 
 slain one another in great battle-storms. Herwig 
 is anxious to take leave; but Hilda begs him to 
 remain for a great festival which she is about to 
 hold. Gudrun takes occasion of it to make up 
 marriages between Ortwein and Ortrun, and be- 
 tween Hartmut and Hildeburg, so as fully to 
 appease the old hates, whilst she asks Herwig to 
 give his sister to the king of Carady. He ob- 
 jects that he has no clothes to give her, since the 
 Moorish king has wasted all his land and burnt his 
 cities ; but Seyfrid declares he would take her, were 
 she only in a shift. So the maid is sent for to 
 Hegelingen, and after a splendid reception, she is 
 taken to a tent of rich silk, wondering what is to 
 be done. The king of Carady comes forward : 
 ' Will you have this man ? nine kingdoms will be 
 put under you.' " Christianlike shone the hero's
 
 GUDRUN. 231 
 
 colour ; his hair lay on his head like spun gold ; 
 she were very unwise not to give him her love. 
 Yet she praised him scantly, as oft a maiden does." 
 However, they are affianced ; the four kings' wed- 
 dings take place ; five hundred or more are made 
 " sword-knights" in their honour ; a great festival 
 is held ; though there be but little wind, the dust is 
 as the night. Great largess is bestowed by all, 
 after which the kings depart, Hartmut and Seyfrid 
 first. Then Gudrun, amid smiles and tears, leaves 
 Matalan, and Ortwein and Herwig part, after 
 swearing to each other that whoever should seek 
 to hurt either, both should take and slay him. 
 
 Without deserving to rank as its editor Von der 
 Hagen wishes it to do, as a 'twin sun' (nebensonne) 
 to the ' Nibelungenlied,' ' Gudrun' has obviously 
 great beauties. The quaintly poetical incident of 
 Horant's singing is perhaps the gem of the earlier 
 portion. There is equally a good deal of ten- 
 derness and beauty, though wire-drawn in true 
 thirteenth century fashion, in the story of Gudrun's 
 captivity, and of her interview with the messengers. 
 And there is real dramatic power in her sudden 
 revulsion of feeling when she has been ' kissed by 
 two kings', which rises into epic grandeur in the 
 storming of Cassian city. The picture of grim Wate 
 in particular raging for slaughter is truly worthy of
 
 232 GUDRUN. 
 
 the ' Nibelungenlied' itself. But (except perhaps 
 when fresh from reading ' Biterolf) it is difficult, 
 I suppose, to get through the 6824 lines of 'Gu- 
 drun' without feeling that one has had enough of it. 
 
 The earliest reference to any portion of the 
 "Gudrun" legend appears to occur in the Exeter 
 Anglo-Saxon MS., where Heovrend the "lay-crafty 
 man" is spoken of, apparently the Horant of the 
 German poem. The sweet singing of Horant, it 
 may be said at once, is referred to in a poem of 
 the latter half of the thirteenth century, and in 
 several later ones. An allusion to Wate's valour 
 again seems to occur in Priest Konrad's version of 
 the ' Song of Roland' (i 173 to 1 177).* 
 
 I have now to point out the passages of ' Bit- 
 erolf which evidently imply the existence of the 
 ' Gudrun' legend, though not, apparently, of the 
 poem in its actual form, and which thus serve to 
 bind it to the cycle in general, though rather as an 
 outlying adjunct than as a component link. 
 
 Among the chiefs whom, before the battle in 
 ' Biterolf' between the Huns and the Burgundians, 
 Gunther enumerates to his followers as likely to 
 
 * Miss Letherbrow in her introduction (p. 41) quotes also a 
 passage from Priest Lamprecht's "Alexander" (about 1180), re- 
 ferring to the death of ' ' Hilda's father .... between Hagen and 
 Wate," on the " Wulpinwerd."
 
 GUDRUN. 233 
 
 come against them as foemen from Hunland, he 
 names " Hawart the strong, the hero of Denmark," 
 (vv. 4959 60) a hero who indeed already occurs 
 in the Nibelungenlied. 
 
 Strange to say, less than 1200 lines further on 
 (v. 6227 and foil.) " Herwart the strong, the hero of 
 Denmark" (obviously the same personage) is among 
 those whom Gunther summons to his own assist- 
 ance. The same Hawart-Herwart afterwards turns 
 into " Herbert," and figures as such on the Bur- 
 gundian side during the remainder of the poem. 
 This " Herbert from Daneland" is represented as 
 saying of Dietrich that he knows well " how I rode 
 from Ormany, and how my arm there conquered 
 king Ludwig's child. Yea, I carried off his maiden 
 from the realm of Ormany full mightfully. When 
 Hartmut and his men and Ludwig his father with- 
 stood me, I and the maiden had none else; whom 
 the lord Ludwig could never overcome ; mischance 
 befell him from my hand alone." He goes on to 
 say that, riding through the land, though with his 
 body wounded, he heard men and women tell of 
 a giant who oppressed the land, and slew him, 
 though Ludwig and all his men never durst with- 
 stand him. On leaving the country he slew Gold- 
 wart and Seewart ; came to Bern, was attacked by 
 Dietrich and Hildebrand whilst bearing his wife
 
 234 GUDRUN. 
 
 alone through the land ; gladly had they taken 
 from him " Hildeburg" the rich. Yet " ' I brought 
 her,' said the good hero, ' untaken through the 
 land; Master Hildebrand well knows it; thereby 
 is my wife yet here with me on the Rhine.' " 
 
 We see obviously from this that the Hawart-Her- 
 wart-Herbort of Biterolf is the Herwig of ' Gudrun'. 
 We recognize his expedition to "Ormany," his 
 struggles with Ludwig and with Hartmut his son, 
 and his success. Beyond this, the tale is evidently 
 divergent. Instead of going with an army as in 
 Gudrun, Herbort-Herwig has gone alone, and by 
 land instead of by sea; and what marks a still 
 stronger divergence, the maiden described as the 
 object of his endeavours is Hildeburg, Gudrun's 
 companion in the other poem. With this however 
 agrees a passage in the ' Klage,' which speaks of 
 " Hildeburg of Normandy" as one of Helche's 
 women. I cannot help thinking that these pas- 
 sages mark the story of Gudrun's captivity as in- 
 sititious, and indicate to us an older and more 
 genuine version of the legend. The hero's carrying 
 off his bride alone on horseback, on the other 
 hand, and the attack made upon him, strongly 
 resemble the Walther-legend. 
 
 'Gudrun' indeed, like most of the greater mid- 
 dle-age epics, must not be taken as primarily
 
 GUDRUN. 235 
 
 forming a whole, nor as the work of a single 
 author. A single instance will prove this : The 
 ravages of king Seyfrid of Moorland in Herwig's 
 land are represented as simultaneous with, or 
 rather slightly anterior to, Hartmut's carrying away 
 of Gudrun. The captivity of the latter is repre- 
 sented at v. 4087 as approaching the ninth year. 
 Her washing is afterwards mentioned as lasting 
 six-and-a-half years (v. 4280). Yet at the close of 
 the poem, Herwig is represented as unable to 
 endow his sister on account of Seyfrid's ravages. 
 Evidently, Gudrun's prolonged captivity of more 
 than fifteen years is a mere graft upon the original 
 legend, according to which her rescue must have 
 followed close upon her abduction. This is abund- 
 antly confirmed by other considerations (apart from 
 those which are supplied by 'Biterolf'). The ante- 
 cedent improbability of Herwig's waiting fifteen 
 years before recovering his wife, devotedly as he is 
 represented to be attached to her, must strike 
 every one ; nor is it less extraordinary that Hilda's 
 preparations for the rescue should have taken so 
 long a time. Again, Ortwein is represented (v. 
 3539) as wishing to avenge his father when slain 
 by Ludwig ; yet after the fifteen years of Gudrun's 
 captivity, when the trial expedition for her rescue 
 is about to start, Hilda recommends him to the
 
 236 GUDRUN. 
 
 princes as being scarcely twenty years old (v. 4459)- 
 Still more extraordinary is it to find Hildeburg, the 
 second in age of the three princesses who were 
 companions to Hagen, represented latterly as a 
 " lovely maid," sharing the trials of Hagen's daugh- 
 ter Gudrun, and married to Gudrun's own lover 
 Hartmut, when she must have been some twenty 
 years older than Gudrun, and Gudrun herself be- 
 tween thirty and forty. 
 
 Assuming therefore that the detail of Gudrun's 
 captivity does not belong to the original legend, 
 the next question is, whether the remainder of it is 
 to be treated as forming a continuous composition. 
 I must say it seems to me that the poem, as we 
 have it, embraces at least two separate ones of 
 earlier date, a "lay of Hagen," and the "lay of 
 Gudrun" itself. The earlier portion is not only 
 visibly independent of the latter, but the latter is 
 connected with it only by the names of personages, 
 and a few slight allusions as respects Hildeburg. 
 It is sufficiently surprising to find Horant, Morung, 
 Yrolt, Wate, Frute, alive and as vigorous as ever 
 throughout the whole action of the second part. 
 But after the characteristic incident of Horant's 
 sweet singing, which is so instrumental in winning 
 Hilda, it is difficult to account for the total omission 
 of reference to such a gift afterwards, if really the
 
 GUDRUN. 237 
 
 poem is to be treated as continuous. Wate on the 
 other hand develops latterly into a totally different 
 personage from what he is at first. In what I 
 must call the Hagen-lay, as the former preceptor 
 of Hettel, he is represented rather as a sort of 
 Northern Ulysses. However skilful at fencing, 
 craft rather than strength seems his prerogative, 
 and so far from courting strife, he is extremely 
 wroth at being selected for the embassy to Hagen. 
 In the true Gudrun-lay on the other hand, he be- 
 comes the leading warrior, he has the strength of 
 six-and-twenty men, and his character is marked 
 by a ferocity which closely assimilates him to 
 the Hagen of the ' Nibelungenlied.' The frequent 
 variations in proper names are another indication 
 of variety of source, or at least of text. Thus 
 Hartmut's country figures as 'Ormanie', 'Orman- 
 din', or ' Normandie'. 
 
 As respects the relative antiquity of the different 
 portions of the poem, I should be inclined to think 
 that the Gudrun-lay proper is the oldest* A 
 
 * Although I must confess never to have entered beyond the 
 ankle into the sea of German controversy as to the Nibelungenlied, 
 I must say that the mere touch of those learned waters was suf- 
 ficient to deter me from making acquaintance with the minor Dead 
 Sea of the Gudrun-controversy. Miss Letherbrow seems to have 
 been bolder, and I once more refer the reader to her Preface as 
 to the present state of the matter.
 
 238 GUDRUN. 
 
 kernel of ancient legend lies also in the Hagen-lay, 
 but it is greatly overlaid by modern additions. 
 The scenery and names seem to indicate that the 
 origin of the poem is Norse rather than German ; 
 but the story of the griffins is evidently derived 
 from Oriental traditions; while the fencing is a 
 detail of very modern character. Equally modern, 
 as I have said already, appears to be the story of 
 Gudrun's trials in captivity, as inserted into the 
 Gudrun-lay. To the thirteenth century, I believe, 
 belongs the idea of female sufferings as a subject 
 for epic treatment ; the story of Gudrun may thus 
 be connected with the French "Berte aux grans 
 pies," and links itself on to the popular fourteenth 
 century tale of the " Patient Grizzel," as treated by 
 Boccacio and Chaucer. 
 
 It should indeed be observed that in the 
 "Younger Edda" of Snorro, a version of the legend 
 varying in names and other particulars occurs. 
 Here Hilldr the Dane, daughter of Hagen (Hogni), 
 is Hettel's (here called Hedin's) beloved, and 
 escapes with him, pursued by Hagen. Father and 
 son-in-law are reconciled, but Hilldr, who is repre- 
 sented as a sorceress, ceasing to love Hettel, throws 
 a charm upon both, so that every night her father 
 and husband rise and fight till the day. M. Ame'de'e 
 Thierry sees in this form of the legend especially
 
 GUDRUN. 239 
 
 a reminiscence of the history of Attila; Hettel 
 for him is Attila, Hilldr the latter's historic bride 
 Ildico, whom, as before mentioned, he would also 
 identify with Walther's bride Hildegund. The 
 carrying away of Hogni's daughter is spoken of 
 indeed by older Norse writers than Snorro, and 
 also by Saxo Grammaticus.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH) : THE 
 HEROIC POEMS. 
 
 I. ALPHART'S DEATH. 
 
 WE now enter upon the consideration of the great 
 collection of the ' Heldenbuch' or ' Book of Heroes', 
 edited by Kaspar von der Roen in the fifteenth 
 century, but supposed by Grasse to have been first 
 put together from earlier sources, and touched up 
 by Wolfram von Eschenbach and Heinrich von 
 Ofterdingen at the end of the twelfth century.* 
 Mr. Carlyle, who seems to have known it only at 
 second hand, whilst, as before observed, strangely 
 using it as a sort of clue to the ' Nibelungenlied', 
 
 * Vilmar in his ' Geschichte der deutschen National-literatur, ' 
 indicates indeed several earlier "Hero-books", and would even 
 deny the title to Kaspar von der Roen's collection, which he greatly 
 disparages. It seems however to have been the most complete and 
 popular of any. It is the one therefore which I shall chiefly refer 
 to, though I have consulted other printed texts of some of the poems 
 contained in it.
 
 THE HEROIC POEMS. 241 
 
 treats it as mere ' doggrel', and is willing to throw 
 it all out of window. The term ' doggrel' is ap- 
 plied with Mr. Carlyle's usual unreliable hastiness 
 of expression, a great portion of the ' Heldenbuch' 
 being written in verse far more regular and artist- 
 ically-wrought than that of the 'Nibelungenlied', 
 and however unequal in merit are the poems of 
 which it is composed, several of them appear to 
 me full of beauty. 
 
 Kaspar von der Roen's collection consists of the 
 following poems : I. 'Otnit.' 2. ' Wolfdietrich.' 3. 
 ' Etzel's Court -keeping' (Etzel's Hofhaltung). 4. 
 ' Giant Sigenot' (Riese Sigenot). 5. ' Ecke's Journey' 
 (Ecken Ausfahrt). 6. ' Dietrich and his companions' 
 (Dietrich und seine Gesellen). 7. ' King Laurin' 
 (Konig Laurin). 8. ' The Rose Garden at Worms' 
 (Der Rosengarten zu Worms). 9. ' The Lay of 
 Hildebrand' (Das Hildebrand's Lied). 10. 'The 
 Sea-monster' (Das Meer-wunder). n. 'Duke Ernst 1 
 (Herzog Ernst) the last a poem quite unconnected 
 with the cycle. Later printed ' Hero-books' in- 
 clude other poems which, like the ' Horned Sieg- 
 fried', have become popular through the greater 
 diffusion of the more modern editions; and it is 
 from such a modernized ' Heldenbuch' that Weber 
 has printed his abstracts and extracts. MSS. of 
 most of these poems have however been dis- 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH) : 
 
 covered by modern industry. The ' Rose Garden 
 at Worms', otherwise called 'the great Rose-gar- 
 den' (to distinguish it from 'King Laurin', called 
 also ' the little Rose-garden'), was already thus pub- 
 lished from the MS. by Von der Hagen and Pri- 
 misser in 1820. Since then, a couple of valuable 
 volumes by Von der Hagen, ' Altdeutsche Helden- 
 lieder aus dem Sagenkreise Dietrichs von Bern 
 und der Nibelungen' (Leipzig, 1855), have given us 
 one or more texts from the MSS. of several other 
 of the poems comprised both in Kaspar von der 
 Roen's and later ' Hero-books', namely ' Ortnit' 
 (Otnit) and Wolfdietrich, with a ' Hugdietrich' 
 between, the 'Death of Alphart' (Alphart's 
 Tod), ' The battle of Ravenna' (Die Ravenna- 
 schlacht), Giant Sigenot, Ecke's journey, Dietrich 
 and his companions, with fragments of ' Diet- 
 rich's marriage journey' (Dietrich's Brautfahrt), 
 Etzel's Court-keeping, and ' Ermenrich's Death' 
 (Ermenrich's Tod). A modernized version of the 
 ' Horned Siegfried', ' Etzel's Court-keeping', the 
 ' Great Rose-garden', ' Alphart's Death', ' Ecke's 
 Journey', and ' Giant Sigenot' will moreover be 
 found in a publication of earlier date by the same 
 author (Berlin, 1811). Among the poems above 
 referred to (which do not exhaust the cycle), I 
 shall select a few, of merit in themselves, which 
 serve to develop the sub-cycle of Dietrich.
 
 ALPHART'S DEATH. 243 
 
 The finest of these, and indeed the most noble 
 of all the later poems of the Norse-German cycle, 
 is ' Alphart's death'. It seems to be, in its present 
 shape, considered to belong, like the 'Battle of 
 Ravenna' to be presently noticed, to the fourteenth 
 century,* but like the latter, it had probably an 
 original of the thirteenth. It connects itself with 
 that which forms the main subject of the Dietrich 
 sub-cycle, the persecution, through Sibich's trea- 
 chery, of Dietrich by his uncle Ementrich or 
 Ermentrich, emperor of Greece, a legendary per- 
 sonage who has evidently taken the place of the 
 historical Odoacer (still remembered, as before 
 pointed out, in the old ' Lay of Hildebrand'), whilst 
 by his name he seems to represent the still older 
 Hermanric of Gothic history. It is moreover re- 
 markable as bringing forward two personages, 
 hitherto (as in ' Biterolf ') of secondary importance 
 in the legend, Weytege-Wittich and Heime-Heim 
 his comrade, the former of whom especially, in the 
 Norse Vilkina-saga, becomes quite another North- 
 ern Achilles; but here on the contrary the part 
 they play, though an important one, is latterly 
 anything but creditable, to Wittich especially. It 
 
 * Grimm looks upon Otnit, Wolfdietrich, the Rose-garden, and 
 Alphart as nearly contemporaneous, and probably belonging to the 
 second half of the thirteenth century.
 
 244 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH) : 
 
 will be recollected that " Hama" and " Wudga" are 
 names already found conjoined in the " Gleeman's 
 tale," that in the Anglo-Saxon Hama and the 
 Norse Hamdir we have already recognized the 
 "Ammius" of Jornandes, that a connexion be- 
 tween Ammius-Hamdir-Hama-Heime and Herman- 
 ric-Eormenric-Jormunrek Jarmericus Ermentrich 
 is indicated alike by Jornandes, by Beowulf, by the 
 Edda, and by Saxo Grammaticus. But the nature 
 of that connexion is lost in the later legend. Here 
 Heime is no longer the nephew or stepson of 
 Ermentrich, but simply, with Wittich, one of his 
 principal chieftains, and who moreover remains 
 faithful to him against Dietrich. In short, the part 
 occupied in history by him and his brothers is now 
 in the main transferred to Dietrich. And there 
 seems to be evidence that a form of the later 
 version was current at least in the ninth century. 
 Thus Flodoard, writing at that period the history 
 of the Church of Reims, relates that Foulques 
 archbishop of Rheims, in dissuading king Arnulf 
 from undertaking a war against Charles the Simple, 
 quoted the instance of Hermanric, who by the im- 
 pious advice of one of his counsellors doomed all 
 his kin to death. 
 
 Kaiser Ermentrich, through the advice of the 
 false traitor Sibich, has determined to expel his
 
 ALPHART'S DEATH. 245 
 
 nephew Dietrich from the land. The knights Heim 
 and Wittich, called upon by Dietrich to stand by 
 him, deem themselves bound to the emperor ; whom 
 however, on their rejoining him, Heim strongly 
 advises not to drive out his nephew, telling him it 
 is unfriendly conduct, and that Dietrich will empty 
 many a saddle ere he be worsted. Otherwise, all 
 Dietrich's knights declare that they will support 
 him against his uncle's unjust enmity. 
 
 The Kaiser's host is nigh to Bern (Verona) ; who 
 from Dietrich's side shall be sent on the watch ? 
 Young Alphart, Hildebrand's nephew, offers him- 
 self. 'Dear brother mine,' says brave Wolf hart, 
 ' let now another knight take the watch ; thou art 
 but a child of thy years.' ' No honour will it be 
 to me,' replies Alphart, 'to tarry here like a poor 
 wife ; on the watch will I ride forth, none can turn 
 me from it; to-day will I die, or be reckoned for 
 a knight. What should I do, were I not to risk 
 body and life ? Since the foes are come upon the 
 green heath, I dare well withstand them.' In vain 
 do Dietrich and his uncle Hylbrand, i.e. Hilde- 
 brand, dissuade him ; in vain does many a good 
 knight begin to grieve ; in vain do they take him 
 by the hand before the lady Ute, his uncle's wife, 
 who endeavours herself to turn him from his pur- 
 pose ; in vain at last comes the fair lady Amelgart,
 
 246 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH) : 
 
 who bids him remember that she has been given 
 him to wife, and falling on her knees beseeches 
 him at least to take some one with him who shall 
 give notice if he be attacked. Alphart tells his 
 bride that it is for her he makes the venture, nor 
 will he have help of any. 
 
 Armed by the Lady Ute, mounted by her on 
 a good horse, and receiving his spear from her 
 hand, Alphart rides over the bridge that crosses 
 the Adige ; yonder on the heath are eighty of the 
 Kaiser's knights awaiting him, and he knows it 
 not. His uncle Hildebrand determines to ride 
 after him in strange armour, hoping to overcome 
 him and bring him back a prisoner. Alphart takes 
 him for an imperialist and rides at him. Hilde- 
 brand is ashamed of yielding to a youth, and awaits 
 the encounter. They fight, and at last Alphart 
 gives Hildebrand such a stroke as stretches him 
 on the green heather. Quickly cried the old man, 
 ' Let me live, I am thy uncle Hildebrand.' Alphart 
 treats this at first as a trick, and will only be con- 
 vinced on taking off his adversary's helmet. ' Not 
 wise seem you to me ; so old as you are, you 
 should have foregone this journey.' 'I did it for 
 the good ; come now back with me to Bern.' 
 ' Nay, I will yet serve the watch this day.' ' Christ 
 be gracious to thee, for surely thou hast made
 
 ALPHART'S DEATH. 247 
 
 known to me thy manhood; the praiseworthy 
 prince will not be loth to hear that thou hast con- 
 quered me.' As from afar the prince sees Hilde- 
 brand coming, 'You have been long away, Master 
 Hildebrand,' he cries ; ' where is your prisoner that 
 you are bringing ?' ' Lord, we have sent forth the 
 bravest knight that in our times hath ever won the 
 name of knight The young chief met me on the 
 broad plain ; I could not stand before him.' ' Not 
 loth am I to hear that the young chief hath con- 
 quered ; on my troth, it was well enough done for 
 a youth.' 
 
 Meanwhile Alphart stands on the heath, tight- 
 ening anew the girths of his horse. Eighty knights 
 under a green banner worked with gold ride up to 
 him. He asks who is their chief. Duke Wolfing 
 replies that they are sent by Kaiser Ermentrich 
 for Dietrich's hurt. To Wolfing's question who 
 Alphart is, the latter only answers that he is his 
 foe, and to all who mean evil by his lord. The 
 Duke observes that he holds of the Kaiser castles, 
 wealth and land, he has received his pay, "the 
 bright gold so red;" when the Kaiser orders, he 
 must ride to the fray. They fight, and Alphart 
 drives his spear right through the breast of Wolf- 
 ing. The knights press upon him to avenge their 
 chief. He meets on foot two of them successively
 
 248 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH) : 
 
 and kills them. The remainder now attack him all 
 at once, but he slays them all except eight, who 
 leap on their horses and take to flight, pursued by 
 Alphart, who however stops after awhile, for he is 
 hot, and the sweat falls on the heather through the 
 rings of his mail. 
 
 He dismounts, and taking his spear in his hand 
 seeks the shade of a linden-tree. From hence he 
 can see the smoke of Ermentrich's host fly over 
 the broad plain. ' Had I now one thousand men,' 
 he thinks, ' the Kaiser should not be excused from 
 fighting. Had I Wolfhart my dear brother, and 
 the prince of Bern, and the old Master my uncle 
 Hildebrand, and were the three of the same mind 
 with me, the foe should have to leave this land.' 
 He unbinds his helmet, he turns him to the breeze. 
 By this time the eight knights had come running, 
 they stood all wounded before the Kaiser, their 
 shields and helmets all wet with blood. ' Welcome 
 be ye, knights ; where are the other heroes who 
 were with you on the watch ? where is Duke Wolf- 
 ing, and his eighty men ?' ' He is dead, and the 
 others remain by him. We saw it with our eyes ; 
 ask of them never more. We were eighty, eight 
 have come back ; the others lie all slain to death 
 upon the heather.' ' Now tell me, worthy man, 
 how many were the knights who conquered you ?'
 
 ALPHART'S DEATH. 249 
 
 ' It was a single knight' ' Who was the 
 
 knight ? what bore he on his shield that I may 
 know him ? Was it my nephew Dietrich or one 
 of his servants ?' They reply that the knight was 
 one of such valour that he will certainly ride hither 
 himself. At this news, the imperialists begin at 
 once to fall back. Alphart perceives the move- 
 ment from afar, he laughs, and thinks whether he 
 will pursue them. But he deems that it would be 
 reckoned foolhardiness were he slain on such a 
 venture, and he would not be lamented; so he 
 bides under the linden-tree. Meanwhile the Kaiser 
 is asking again who the foeman knight was. The 
 fugitives can only say that he bore a white shield 
 with a lion of red gold, and above a golden crown. 
 This is not Dietrich's cognizance ; it must be, they 
 think, some stranger knight come to help him from 
 afar. 
 
 The Kaiser is sore troubled. He has silver and 
 gold brought forth, he offers it to whosoever will 
 go upon the watch; but all are silent. Alphart 
 meanwhile dwells still under the linden, for it was 
 the law in those days that whosoever went upon 
 the watch, were he knight or servant, he kept it till 
 the end of the day. The Kaiser now addresses 
 Wittich, appealing to his faith, and offering to 
 share with him castles and wealth and lands.
 
 250 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH) : 
 
 Wittich replies that for the many gifts that the 
 Kaiser has bestowed upon him, he is entitled to 
 have a return, and arming himself, goes in search 
 of Alphart. But as he goes a fear comes upon 
 him, the weight of his armour oppresses him, he 
 feels so hot that the sweat drops through his mail 
 on the green heather. ' God from heaven,' he ex- 
 claims, ' what is this ? what will happen to-day on 
 the watch ? I will not ride forth.' He turns round 
 his horse and faces the host. Then he bethinks 
 him again as a hero : ' Rather must thou endure 
 grief, since the praiseworthy Kaiser hath chosen 
 thee out of 80,000 men.' His friend Heim too 
 rides after him, meaning to revenge him if he fall. 
 Alphart comes forth to meet Wittich, whom he 
 recognizes, and reproaches bitterly for his breach 
 of faith to Dietrich, but refuses again to give his 
 name in answer to Wittich's inquiries. Wittich 
 declares he has never been so reproached in all his 
 life; he would not be a man if he were to bear 
 it. 'To whomsoever God may grant heal,' says 
 Alphart, 'let him live while he may; but I ween 
 nought shall part us twain, save cither's last day.' 
 They fight ; Wittich shivers his lance on Alphart's 
 breast, Alphart strikes Wittich to the earth, far 
 behind his horse Schimming, who ran off and ate 
 the green grass, caring little for his lord's fall. A
 
 ALPHART'S DEATH. 251 
 
 sword-fight follows, of which Alphart has again the 
 best, stunning Wittich with his blows till he thinks 
 only how to escape, and at last stretching him on 
 the heather as if dead, the blood gushing from his 
 nose and ears ; but he forbears to kill him whilst 
 thus at his mercy. 
 
 Now Heim comes forward, and suggests that 
 each champion should return to his own party. 
 Alphart insists that Wittich should be left with 
 him as a hostage. Wittich now appeals to Heim 
 to come to his aid, reminding him of past vows 
 and services rendered. Heim deems it would be 
 evil done if both at once were to strike the youth. 
 However, he ends by yielding to Wittich's en- 
 treaties. Alphart for a time has the better still, 
 and pursues both his foes; but they weary him, 
 and he appeals to them to remember knightly 
 honour, and to encounter him singly, pledging 
 himself not to yield to either. Heim cannot resist 
 the appeal, and engages him alone, but receives 
 such a blow that the blood spirts forth an ell. 
 Then Heim attacks Alphart in front, Wittich from 
 behind, and the latter strikes Alphart a treacherous 
 blow through the leg, so that he can hardly stand ; 
 after which they take to flight. Alphart calls after 
 them ; are they such cowards as to flee from him 
 on his one leg ? He springs after them ; in a lion's
 
 252 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH) : 
 
 rage he leaps on Heim and wounds him twice in 
 the breast. Then they close for a final grapple, in 
 which at last Heim splits open Alphart's head, 
 whilst Wittich runs him through the body. He 
 dies crying still "Fie, ye evil cowards, ye men 
 
 without honour !" 
 
 This, which should be the end of the poem, 
 represents unfortunately but a break in the MS., 
 which afterwards continues at some length to relate 
 the succour brought to Dietrich by Walther of 
 Karlingen and other chiefs, who have been sum- 
 moned by Hildebrand to come and help Dietrich 
 in his need and avenge young Alphart's death, and 
 by monk Ylsan (who it seems had offended Dietrich 
 by slaying his uncle Garten, and is anxious to be 
 reconciled to him), with 1 100 monks wearing black 
 coats over their bright armour ; the encounter of 
 the party with Studenfuss of the Rhine (apparently 
 the ' Stutfuchs' of ' Biterolf '), the relief by them of 
 Verona invested by the Kaiser, and the battle be- 
 tween the two hosts, in which the monks distinguish 
 themselves greatly, so that the emperor deems 
 them to 'sing evil chaunts.' The poem ends by 
 the discomfiture of the imperialists, and the flight 
 of Sibich, of the emperor, and of Wittich and 
 Heim, which is followed by a distribution of the 
 booty.
 
 THE BATTLE OF RAVENNA. 253 
 
 II. THE BATTLE OF RAVENNA (RAVENNA- 
 SCHLACHT). 
 
 The ' Battle of Ravenna' (first half of the four- 
 teenth century) is in fact but a different version of 
 the action which forms the subject of the latter part 
 of ' Alphart's Death', only placed at a later epoch, 
 and one more consistent with the general course 
 of the legend. It might deserve more attention 
 here, were it not that the Carlovingian cycle will 
 afford us much finer specimens of the battle-epic, 
 in the description of the fields of Roncevaux and 
 Aleschans. The most interesting portion of it, and 
 that on which alone I shall dwell at any length, is 
 that relating to the death of Etzel's sons. 
 
 Dietrich is sad for the many knights whom he 
 has lost in Romishland through the persecution of 
 Kaiser Ermenrich. Queen Helche comforts him ; 
 king Etzel promises to give him 1,100,000 men, 
 that he may go and avenge his wrongs ; all the 
 chiefs promise their aid. After great festivities, 
 the host is about to start. Queen Helche mean- 
 while has had an evil dream, of a dragon that came 
 flying through her room, carried away her sons to 
 a broad heath, and there tore them in- pieces. They 
 come to greet her in the morning : ' Welcome be
 
 254 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH) : 
 
 ye from God,' she says, 'my full dear sons, my 
 eyes' blooming delight, my Easter-day, my May ; 
 what joy have I to see you !' But they have come 
 to beg permission to go with Dietrich. Both 
 Helche and Etzel are very loth to give it, fearing 
 the craft of Ermenrich. Dietrich declares he will 
 not let them go out of his keeping ; but they must 
 not ride further than he may allow. Pressed at 
 last by their importunities, Helche in tears asks 
 her husband to give his consent, and they are 
 allowed to go, their mother specially commending 
 them to Dietrich. 
 
 After the surrender of Padua to the Huns, the 
 two armies meet under Ravenna. Dietrich, before 
 proceeding to the field, specially commends the 
 two young princes and his brother Diether to old 
 Elsan, (Ylsan ?) " as God commended His mother to 
 St. John." Whatever displeasure the princes may 
 show, Elsan is not to let them approach the gate, 
 under pain of his life. Dietrich also recommends 
 the princes to his brother Diether, as being a little 
 older than his companions, reminding him that if 
 they (the princes of Bern) were to lose " the Hun- 
 nish march" they would be dead for ever. He 
 warns them all that they are not to believe any 
 report of his death ; but that if he should perish, 
 ' Bern' is to be handed over to Etzel. The princes
 
 THE BATTLE OF RAVENNA. 255 
 
 are much grieved at parting one by one from all 
 the chiefs. More than a hundred times did Dietrich 
 kiss his brother Diether on the mouth, and also the 
 young princes. 
 
 Left alone, the princes ask leave of Elsan to see 
 ' Bern', seeing it lies in Hunland. With great re- 
 luctance he consents. They go round the town, 
 but on coming out take the wrong road, which 
 leads straight to Ravenna. Elsan has missed them, 
 and searches for them in vain. The three young 
 men ride all the day, lose themselves in the even- 
 ing mist, and spend the night on a heath. Early 
 the next morning they descry Wittich, armed as if 
 for battle. The sight of one who has done such 
 harm to his party much grieves Diether; would 
 that Wittich might die under his hand! Scharf, 
 one of the young princes, says they must conquer 
 the traitor. Wittich, who has perceived them, now 
 calls to them, asking if they are companions of ' him 
 of Bern' ? Diether now replies that Wittich must 
 expiate his breach of faith. ' Fare back to Hun- 
 land,' he retorts, ' and reproach me not, else will ye 
 see Hunland no more.' The three young men set 
 upon him, Scharf foremost, who inflicts on Wittich 
 two wounds, and strikes a blow which, though 
 aimed by too weak a hand to reach the flesh, is 
 sufficient to unhorse him, but is killed. Grimly
 
 256 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH) : 
 
 his brother Orte rushes on Wittich, but, alas ! the 
 young men's armour was but their summer gar- 
 ments. Again Wittich advises his assailant to go 
 his way, but is only met by reproaches. He is 
 thrice wounded in this new conflict with Orte, in 
 which Diether joins after a time. The fight lasts 
 till the evening, and Wittich is sore pressed ; but 
 in his fury at last he strikes a blow which cleaves 
 Orte's skull. Diether is so grieved at the sight 
 that the blood starts from his eyes; but after in- 
 flicting four new wounds on Wittich, he is in turn 
 cloven in twain through the shoulder. Wittich 
 however is overwhelmed with grief at his victory ; 
 he weeps over Diether, and kisses all his wounds. 
 
 Meanwhile the battle is raging under Ravenna. 
 Under Ermenrich fight various personages both 
 of ' Gudrun' and of the ' Nibelungenlied', Frute of 
 Daneland, Herman (Hartmut ?) of Normandy, Mo- 
 runk of England, Gunther, Sifrit. Dietrich's host 
 is marshalled by Hildebrand, Helfrich taking the 
 standard. The struggle is a bloody one ; " Wolf- 
 hart becomes young that day in the strife." Diet- 
 rich and Sifrit close together; Dietrich is nearly 
 killed, and is only saved by a silken shirt under 
 his hauberk, with four relics sewn in it ; but in turn 
 he strikes Sifrit down, and compels him to beg for 
 his life. At last Ermenrich takes to flight with the
 
 THE BATTLE OF RAVENNA. 257 
 
 traitor Sibich, who however is taken prisoner by 
 Eckart. 
 
 Great is the woe of Dietrich when the dead 
 bodies of the dead princes and of Diether are dis- 
 covered by Helfrich. 'Who will ever trust me 
 now ?' exclaims the chief. He beats his breast, he 
 bites his arm and his hand ; O ! that he were dead! 
 He gazes upon the wounds of the dead ; so deep 
 are they, he declares that they can only have been 
 made by Mimung, the sword of Wittich. At this 
 moment Rudeger tells him that Wittich is riding 
 by. Dietrich instantly rides after him, but at sight 
 of him Wittich takes to flight. In vain Dietrich 
 adjures him to tarry; Wittich flees all the faster. 
 But his uncle Reinolt who accompanies him cannot 
 bear Dietrich's appeals and taunts; he stops and 
 awaits the latter, while Wittich rides off. Dietrich 
 soon kills Reinolt, and resumes his pursuit of Wit- 
 tich. But when on the point of reaching him, a 
 mermaid carries off the latter and his horse, telling 
 him that thirty such as he could not withstand 
 Dietrich in his wrath. 
 
 Ravenna is stormed after the battle, but Ermen- 
 rich escapes. Dietrich revenges himself by setting 
 fire to the palace and the tower ; the proud burghers 
 come out and give up their relics. Dietrich now 
 sends Rudeger and Helfrich to Etzel's court to 
 
 VOL. r. s
 
 258 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH). 
 
 bear the news. The queen asks at once about her 
 children. Rudeger can only reply by tears. She 
 presses him anew. "Your two sons lie dead on 
 the heath before Ravenna." Bitter is Helche's woe. 
 'Alas!' she cries, 'for their dear blooming youth, 
 for their high-praised virtue! Yea, rightly knew 
 no man what virtue lay in them ! Alas ! for their 
 dear greetings, that seemed to me so sweet and so 
 pure ! Joy of my best time, how have I lost thee !' 
 She loads Dietrich with curses for his breach of 
 faith. Rudeger defends him, and speaks of young 
 Diether who also lies dead. ' Tell me, Rudeger, by 
 thy truth,' says the queen, ' weeps he yet sadly, the 
 king of the Roman land ? is Diether really dead ?' 
 'I saw with my eyes Dietrich kiss the young 
 kings on their wounds, I saw him bite his flesh 
 from his hands ; never can I forget his weeping.' 
 By degrees Helche begins to pity Dietrich, and is 
 sorry for having cursed him ; and she ends by 
 sending him assurance of her favour. The news 
 has now to be told to Etzel, with the like effects, 
 save that he seems to be chiefly comforted by hear- 
 ing that Elsan's head has been cut off. Dietrich 
 soon follows his messengers, and on reaching the 
 presence of his sovereign bows his head down upon 
 Etzel's foot, begging him to avenge his two sons 
 upon him ; but Etzel lifts him up kindly, and for- 
 gives him.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE BOOK OF HEROES : THE ROMANTIC POEMS. 
 I. OTNIT. 
 
 THE two foregoing poems may be considered as 
 the latest worthy specimens of the true epic. It 
 will not have escaped the reader how remarkably 
 abstinent almost all the works hitherto noticed of 
 the German portion of the cycle have been from 
 the vulgar marvellous. With the exception of the 
 former portion of the ' Nibelungenlied' (in date 
 probably the latest), the opening of ' Gudrun' and 
 a few subsequent passages, and the incident, pro- 
 bably interpolated at a late period, of the carrying 
 away of Wittich and his horse by a mermaid in 
 the ' Battle of Ravenna,' we have been left un- 
 molested by giants, dwarfs, dragons, monsters, 
 magicians, &c. The only marvels have been those 
 of the strength and endurance of the heroes ; or 
 if supernatural creatures have been introduced, 
 it has been those whose fabled existence forms,
 
 260 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH). 
 
 as it Avere, a part of the national character itself 
 as the ' merwomen' of the Rhine in the ' Nibelun- 
 genlied'. The introduction of the fabulous as 
 a mere part of the poetic machinery, and a whet 
 to the blast fancy, marks the lower stage of the 
 purely romantic, as distinct from the heroic epic. 
 When the poet of the ' Nibelungenlied' sang of 
 the endurance of the Burgundians in the House 
 of Slaughter, and of their quenching their thirst 
 in the blood of the dead, he told that which, being 
 a simple exaggeration of the known powers of 
 man, was no doubt believed in with profound faith 
 by a vast number of his simpler hearers. When 
 a later minstrel told of Wittich being carried away 
 by a mermaid, he said that which, as he himself 
 assuredly knew, not one grown man among his 
 audience could credit for an instant. The one 
 appealed to his hearers' faith, the other simply 
 to their fancy. 
 
 To this form then of the purely romantic or 
 fanciful epic belong two poems which open the ' Hel- 
 denbuch,' and which have thereby attracted, I believe, 
 an undue amount of attention, ' Otnit' (more 
 properly ' Ortnit' or ' Ortnic'), and ' Wolfdietrich', 
 the former personage a Lombard king, the latter 
 his avenger, and his successor both in the throne 
 and in the affections of his widow. I shall not
 
 OTNIT AND WOLFDIETRICH. 26l 
 
 attempt to abstract them. Attributed by some 
 to Wolfram von Eschenbach, ascribed by Ger- 
 vinus to the end of the thirteenth century, written 
 in regular stanzas of eight short lines with alternate 
 rhymes, these works have nothing directly in 
 common with the poems of the cycle hitherto 
 considered but the personage of king Elberich the 
 dwarf, evidently the ' Albrich' of the Nibelungen- 
 lied. Of the identity of Otnit with Odoacer, of 
 Wolfdietrich with the Dietrich of the cycle, which 
 Mr. Carlyle speaks of, I have failed to find so 
 much as a trace in the originals. Kaspar von der 
 Roen indeed expressly treats Wolfdietrich as the 
 grandfather of Dietrich of Bern, and as such he 
 figures in the poems of the Dietrich legend proper ; 
 the poem evidently offering us an instance, of 
 which many occur in the other great cycles, of 
 the growth of legend by the accretion of tales 
 of the ancestors of a chief hero. Considering 
 moreover that Theodoric, instead of being the 
 avenger, was the deadly foe of Odoacer, and that 
 the memory of his victory over the latter, as above 
 shewn, has been preserved in the ' Battle of Ra- 
 venna,' though Odoacer has grown in it to be an 
 emperor of Greece under a Gothic name, it was 
 hardly to be expected that the two- personages 
 should be found in any such connexion as that
 
 262 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH). 
 
 spoken of by Mr. Carlyle. It is true that in other 
 poems of the cycle, as the ' Great Rose-Garden,' 
 the same personage apparently who figures here 
 as Wolfdietrich the grandfather of Dietrich of Bern, 
 appears as his contemporary, under the title of 
 the " Comely Dietrich of Greece."* 
 
 Both ' Otnit' and ' Wolfdietrich', which latter 
 occurs also as divided into the two lays of ' Hug- 
 dietrich' and ' Wolfdietrich', are poems versified 
 with considerable skill, not uninteresting, and 
 studded now and then with striking and beautiful 
 passages. The one which Mr. Carlyle quotes as 
 " Sole specimen of that old German doggrel," and 
 as " perhaps the finest" detached passage in the 
 Heldenbuch, does not occur in the version of 
 Kaspar von der Roen. Its title to be called 
 ' doggrel' must be left to the reader. Anyone may 
 see it is almost faultless in metre, and I should 
 call it in fact a favourable specimen of Minnesinger 
 poetry. The finest passage, to my mind, in the 
 older text, is perhaps one describing the parting 
 between king Otnit and his wife when he goes forth 
 to fight and be killed by a dragon (stanzas 258 
 260, 263 266), which is full of pathos ; but I 
 certainly should not take upon myself to say it 
 
 * There were indeed two contemporary historical Theodorics, 
 as Mr. Kingsley, in his lectures on "the Roman and the Teuton," 
 will have reminded many.
 
 SIGENOT AND ECKE. 263 
 
 was the finest in the ' Heldenbuch', still less 
 would I say so of Mr. Carlyle's excerpt. But the 
 reader is not likely to take much interest in the 
 conquests over Turks and encounters with dwarfs, 
 mermen, or dragons, of purely fanciful heroes with 
 whom he is not otherwise acquainted. I will 
 merely observe that the poem concludes with a 
 penance by Wolfdietrich, which, with varying cir- 
 cumstances, appears to have been somewhat cele- 
 brated in the later legends, (see for instance post, 
 p. 268) and in which, according to Kaspar's version, 
 being laid on a bier, many hundred devils come 
 and carry him alive to hell, and practise torments 
 and temptations upon him. 
 
 II. SIGENOT AND ECKE. 
 
 Two other poems, in stanza metre, ' Giant Sige- 
 not' and ' Ecke's journey', which I shall call simply 
 ' Sigenot' and ' Ecke', stand in direct connexion 
 with the main body of the Dietrich-legend. The 
 former, much the inferior one of the two, deserves 
 to be slightly referred to as forming avowedly 
 an introduction to the latter. 
 
 Dietrich finds a tall man (Sigenot) sleeping in 
 a wood, and wakes him. The latter recognizes on
 
 264 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH). 
 
 the hero a helmet once belonging to his nephew 
 Grein, whom Dietrich has killed, and declares that 
 he must avenge him. They fight, the giant strikes 
 Dietrich down, carries him off, and casts him into 
 a 'hollow stone' which afterwards appears to be 
 a tower where there is no light Hildebrand 
 comes riding by, and sees his master's horse bound, 
 whereby he knows he must be near. The giant 
 attacks him with a steel stake, strikes his sword 
 out of his hand, and seizing him by the beard, 
 drags him toward the ' hollow stone'. But when 
 arrived there, Hildebrand's beard breaks in the 
 giant's hand, who has been moreover unwise 
 enough to leave his stake behind. Seeing his 
 master's sword hanging up, Hildebrand seizes it, 
 and with it cuts off an arm and a leg of the giant, 
 whom he proceeds to despatch. 
 
 Meanwhile Dietrich in the hollow stone here 
 called a tower is in great straits ' from many a 
 strong worm,' i. e. serpent. Hildebrand somewhat 
 cruelly takes the opportunity of rating him for 
 going forth alone. Dietrich acknowledges that 
 things have gone " a little amiss" with him, and 
 begs his follower to help him out. There is 
 however no ladder to be found ; at Dietrich's 
 suggestion, Hildebrand cuts up his garments and 
 forms a rope which he throws in; but as he is
 
 SIGENOT AND ECKE. 265 
 
 drawing up Dietrich it breaks, and the latter is so 
 much injured by the fall that he bids Hildebrand 
 go away and look after his wife and brother, as 
 he can nevermore be healed. However, by the 
 assistance of a dwarf named Eggerich, whom Hil- 
 debrand finds sleeping in the mountain and seizes 
 by the beard, Hildebrand finds a ladder which 
 is hanged on the tower; Dietrich is rescued, and 
 his wounds are salved. But the one night that 
 he lay there, it seemed to him thirty years. 
 
 " Here begins the Lay of Egge" (i. e. Ecke), 
 says the MS. ; and this is so far superior to the 
 former, that I can hardly believe it to be the work 
 of the same author. 
 
 There was a land named Gripiar (i. e. Colonia 
 Agrippina') in heathen times ; its chief town was 
 named Koln, and it was praised afar ; the town 
 lies nigh the Rhine, and is full well built. There 
 sate (there) heroes in a hall ; they spoke wonders 
 without number of knights of price. The one was 
 lord Fasolt, to whom fair ladies were friendly ; the 
 other was lord Ecke, the third wild Ebenrot. They 
 said all alike that no man was braver in time of 
 need than lord Dietrich of Bern, a hero throughout 
 all lands ; and keen also with crafts was lord Hil- 
 debrand. But the lord Ecke was loth to hear him 
 of Bern praised by all. ' What is happened to the
 
 266 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH). 
 
 folk' ? he said ; ' have they not often seen full 
 many a man fall down, slain by my hand through 
 his armour? Well might ye dismiss this talk. 
 But after him of Bern will I search throughout 
 all lands ; I must find him and give him battle ; 
 he shall deprive me of my life, or else lose all his 
 praise.' Then spoke wild Ebenrot : " Full shame- 
 fully did Dietrich slay to death the lady Hilte and 
 also Grein,* for a breastplate that he took. Had 
 Grein awaked, he had never come thence.' Then 
 spoke lord Fasolt : ' Neither foe nor friend am I 
 to Dietrich, I never saw him with my eyes. But 
 those who have seen the hero, I hear them ever 
 assign to him the preeminence ; truly is he said 
 to be the bravest in time of need that ever received 
 baptism. Tell me, lord Ebenrot, wherein it ever 
 misfell him ? Shew me a man who ever yet con- 
 quered him. Not shamefully did he overcome 
 Grein and his wife, they pressed him so sore ; he 
 slew them on the green open to save his life.' 
 ' True is it,' said lord Ecke, lord Dietrich is full 
 perfect in princely honour. For me, men know 
 not yet who I am ; they must know me also ; 
 if I deprive him of life it will be said in the land, 
 lord Ecke has slain him of Bern. I am full twenty 
 
 * This event, it will be remembered, is referred to at the 
 commencement of ' Sigenot'. I cannot state the details of it.
 
 ECKE. 267 
 
 years old, I have killed full a hundred men, felling 
 them under my hand with deep wounds to the 
 ground, as the wind casts down the trees on the 
 mountains. As many a good hero as I have ever 
 met in storm or strife, I have conquered him till 
 now ; my greatest woe is when I have none to 
 fight. Who should thank me for withstanding 
 a dozen cowards and overthrowing them ? but by 
 withstanding a good man who shall hew my shield 
 and pierce my armour, if I conquer him, it will 
 be more honour to me than to slay such a dozen 
 of the feeble.' 
 
 Three fair queens sate by and heard this talk. 
 The highest of them spoke : " Alas ! that I never 
 saw him of Bern ! Who is he ? If my eye should 
 never behold him, then God has forgotten me, and 
 all my joy is gone. Blessed is the woman that 
 bore so worthy a body, of whom such things are 
 told ! Enough lords there be that speak falsely of 
 him, and are heavy that men should speak well of 
 him ; but they cannot contend with him in man- 
 hood nor in honour.' Now the lady that spoke 
 was named Seburk ; she bore crown at Jochgrim. 
 Addressing Ecke, she bade him be welcome if he 
 should win on the quest he speaks of. Ecke de- 
 clares that he will not fail to go in search of Diet- 
 rich. The lady promises him the best breastplate
 
 268 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH). 
 
 ever seen, once belonging to king Otnit of Lom- 
 bardy, who therein perished ; for a worm found 
 him sleeping before a stone wall, and carried him 
 into the hollow mountain, where the young worms 
 ' sucked him through the work' i. e. through his 
 mail armour. Wolfdietrich of Greece conquered 
 the breastplate, but at Tischen the knight "bro- 
 thered himself," i. e, made himself a monk, and 
 gave the breastplate to his convent. There the 
 high-minded one expiated his sins in one night, 
 by a penance strong above all others, wrestling 
 with all the dead whom he had slain from a child ; 
 there, continues the lady, ' I bought the breast- 
 plate for 50,000 marks. Of pure steel is it, with 
 rings of gold big as a finger, hardened in dragon's 
 blood ; no sword-cut hath ever struck so much as 
 a hair from it ; wrought was it in Araby, a land's 
 price is in it. I will give it to thee on this con- 
 dition, that if thou find him of Bern, thou let him 
 live.' ' Lady, he shall live if he will give up to me 
 his sword ; but that can hardly be, so much do 
 I hear of his manhood. God send me this help !' 
 ' Could I but see the hero', says the lady, ' in all 
 my years nought liefer could befall me. His high 
 name kills me. I know not what he hath done 
 to me, that my heart so longs after him.' Ecke 
 pledges himself to bring Dietrich or lose his life.
 
 ECKE. 269 
 
 An old wayfaring man hears him, and speaks : 
 'Lord, this is not well done. If you should in 
 your pride withstand him of Bern, your end, be- 
 lieve me, will not be good. He is the father of the 
 afflicted ; what he wins, he shares ; honour much 
 he loves ; God forbid that you should harm him.' 
 ' Dear companion', said the noble lady, ' knowest 
 thou Dietrich ? Tell us tidings of him.' ' Yes do 
 I,' said the wayfaring man ; ' a praiseworthy knight 
 is the noble one of Bern ; broad in the chest, 
 shaped as a lion.' 
 
 Ecke is richly armed (full details being given of 
 the rest of his armour and weapons besides the 
 breastplate). He is promised for reward the love 
 of any one of the three queens whom he may 
 choose. But when the best horse in the land is 
 brought for him to mount, he declines it, for it 
 would not be strong enough to bear him. For 
 himself, he can go a fortnight afoot without feeling 
 hunger or fatigue. In vain the lady Seburk presses 
 him, declaring she will be spoken ill of for giving 
 him a breastplate and no charger. They see him 
 go forth afoot, like a leopard through the wood, 
 bounding wide on his way, whilst his armour re- 
 sounds afar like a bell. The wild creatures are 
 affrighted at the noise, the birds are wakened up 
 and give out manifold notes ; all flee before him.
 
 2/0 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH). 
 
 Down the wood ran Ecke, till he came upon a 
 road and a cultivated country. He found a hermit, 
 and asked him how far it were to ' Bern'. He is 
 told there are yet twelve miles, too far for him to 
 go, and is offered hospitality in the hermitage. 
 At table he asks his host concerning the prince of 
 Bern, saying he has never set eyes on him, and 
 fain would see him. The hermit tells him he was 
 at ' Bern' late the previous night, and saw there the 
 prince. Ecke is rejoiced, and thanking the hermit 
 for his food and his treatment, asks the way to 
 ' Bern'. In vain the hermit presses him to bide till 
 the day ; Ecke replies that his heart compels him, 
 he cannot sleep. 
 
 Before daylight he left, and came upon a beaten 
 path that led him to ' Bern' ; in the morning he went 
 into the town. As he passed through the streets, 
 the folk fled before him, for his breastplate shone 
 as if on fire, like live coals glowed his shield and 
 his headgear. 'Who is that man,' it is asked, 
 ' who stands there in the fire ? if he tarry at all, 
 the whole good town shall be burned.' Loud cried 
 Ecke : ' Where is lord Dietrich of Bern ? Long 
 have I sought him ; I am sent forth by ladies, rich, 
 fair, and noble, who fain would see him ; never yet 
 was I lady's messenger; more have I done for 
 them than for God.' Master Hildebrand sees him :
 
 ECKE. 271 
 
 ' Never saw I,' he says, ' so rich apparel of gold cut 
 so long. I say it not for hate, but a narrower cut 
 coat would suit you far better than to come in 
 arms to seek my lord. But in so rich apparel you 
 must have come on horseback ?' ' No horse could 
 have brought me hither. Three famous queens 
 have sent me to bring him of Bern to their house ; 
 he shall depart again with good honour when he 
 shall list to go, thereof I give him my troth ; but 
 they fain would see him, they long after him.' 
 ' How durst you come hither to Bern ? You will 
 have lost your journey ; you know not my lord's 
 custom. He fights with those who come on horse- 
 back ; but you are the first who have come bound- 
 ing on your feet I advise you as a friend, follow 
 another road, and take yourself off from Bern. If 
 my lord fought with vagabonds, he would with- 
 stand you.' Looking straight into his eyes (lit- 
 erally ' under the eyes'), wrathfully replied Ecke : 
 ' You chide me too sharpfy ; had I hold of you by 
 the beard before the gate on the broad heath, it 
 should be loth to you, of a surety.' Master Hilde- 
 brand saw the speech was grievous to him, he did 
 as a wise man doeth, and said : ' I did it in jest. 
 My lord is not here at home ; he is riding to Tyrol 
 in the forest ; there will you find the hero. Yet be 
 not anxious to strive with him ; full many a knight
 
 2/2 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH). 
 
 has he felled dead with his hand. But if you 
 should conquer him, come then hither to Bern, 
 I will myself withstand you.' 
 
 Taking his sword in his hand, asking leave of 
 none, Ecke departs, and crosses the Adige to go 
 up the mountain ; wherever he goes men ascend 
 to the battlements to look at him. That day he 
 fared from 'Bern' till he saw Trent. On being 
 questioned as to his errand, he says he seeks him 
 of Bern, and is shown up a mountain, where he 
 spends a night. In the morning there comes to 
 him a monster (afterwards called a ' mer-monster', 
 but really a centaur), half-man and half-horse, clad 
 in horn, who shoots a bolt at him, crying with a 
 terrible voice ; but the bolt can do nothing on the 
 knight's cuirass. Then with a sword the centaur 
 gives him such a blow as strikes him down sense- 
 less on the green grass. But his wrath woke him 
 up, and helped him out of his need ; for he struck 
 the creature with such a sword-stroke through his 
 horn-garment, that he fell dead. Hot with the 
 fight, Ecke comes to a linden-tree, where he finds 
 a wounded man. He asks who has wounded him ? 
 ' It was the good prince of Bern ; none can strive 
 with him ; a lion's valour is his.' The lord Ecke 
 sate down by the man, he began to measure his 
 wounds with both his hands : ' Never', he cried,
 
 ECKE. 273 
 
 saw I wounds in any land that were struck so 
 deep ! Hero, nought remains whole to thee under 
 helmet or shield. No sword can have done this ; 
 it must be the wild thunder-stroke from heaven.' 
 ' Hither I rode, I fourth, from the Rhine, for a fair 
 lady's will, to win glory ; a brave man rode against 
 us, who bore on his shield a lion of red gold. He 
 withstood us all four, the three he slew to death, 
 I will not lament them, for cowards they were all 
 together ; not long they defended themselves. But 
 now my life is gone ; give me some earth in my 
 mouth for God's honour, that my soul may go to 
 God sound' (i. e. absolved). ' Ask no more of me, 
 my wounds so pain me. For God's sake let me 
 rest, I cannot live longer.' In spite of this appeal 
 Ecke questions him still further, and obtains his 
 name (Helfrich of Lun) and that of his companions. 
 He declares he will avenge him, and binds up his 
 wounds. 
 
 Having been shewn by the knight the path 
 which Dietrich took, Ecke proceeds on his final 
 quest. Dark was the valley where the knights 
 met, but their armour shone so bright it was like 
 a burning sunshine. The lord Dietrich deemed 
 it was Hiltegrin his helmet that gave the shine, 
 and addressed it : 'How fair thou art ! free of all 
 grief must be the smith whose hand wrought the 
 
 VOL. r. T
 
 2/4 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH). 
 
 crown on thee. The older thou growest, the 
 brighter art thou ever.' But so speaking he hears 
 the man coming, about the distance of a horse-run 
 (i. e. of a charge by a knight in armour). ' I would 
 receive you with greeting, lord,' said Dietrich, ' if 
 it be your will. Who hath sent you hither ? how 
 run you thus after me ?' ' I have been sent hither, 
 I have traversed strange lands, in quest of lord 
 Dietrich of Bern ; fair ladies should he go and see ; 
 I would tell him of three queens, noble and rich.' 
 ' Many Dietrichs there may be at Bern ; if you 
 mean the Dietrich to whom Dietmar left Bern 
 and other his properties, him you find here in me.' 
 ' Now turn thee, knight ; I stand here on my 
 feet, I cannot escape thee, having come hither 
 without a horse. On me thou mayest win the 
 richest armour that ever rich Kaiser's child had 
 on his body.' Dietrich asks how he came by such 
 armour, which Ecke proceeds to describe, praising 
 at great length breastplate, sword, &c., successively. 
 'If thy sword be so sharp,' says Dietrich, 'that it 
 will hurt giants, I will not withstand thee ; a fool 
 were I to fight with thee.' 'Well I see thou art 
 
 loth to fight Dietrich thou mayest be called, 
 
 but thou doest not as the prince of Bern. Rather 
 would I die than part from thee.' And Ecke pro- 
 ceeds to curse the lady who sent him, and the
 
 ECKE. 275 
 
 path which he has followed. ' Hast thou name 
 of knight ?' asks Dietrich ; ' thou shouldest well 
 be ashamed of not being able to hold thy peace. 
 What need hast thou to strive with me ? I will 
 not strive with thee, thou hast done me no harm. 
 Give my service to thy lady from him of Bern, 
 tell her I will always be her knight' ' Not a word' 
 (literally, not a hair) 'will I say to her of thee. 
 Bare thou art of all honour; cowardice teaches 
 thee to flee. Dost thou see my good breastplate, 
 and this noble smith's work ? Through this worms 
 sucked the blood of Kaiser Otnit. Now strive 
 yet, fearless hero ; my armour is wrought of Saxon 
 gold.' ' I fight for no one's gold. Will you not 
 be friends with me ? I have done you no harm. 
 But if we must fight, wait till the day shines ; 
 on my troth it is too early yet.' ' Now turn, lord 
 knight, if thou have ever a man's courage; turn 
 hither, worthy good knight, for the honour of all 
 ladies. Henceforth will I withstand any who 
 should praise thee. Art thou he of whom men 
 tell tales to knights and to ladies ? Three noble 
 queens have sent me after thee, who fain would 
 see thee.' ' Three queens, sayest thou ? whilst we 
 fight here for them, their mouth must laugh. I 
 wonder what pleasure it will be to them, if one 
 should dwell here (dead), and the other alone 
 comes away !'
 
 2/6 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH). 
 
 Goaded at last by Ecke's taunts, Dietrich dis- 
 mounts and they begin to fight, both wishing for 
 the day. The more they hew at each other, the 
 brighter shines their armour. At daybreak the 
 birds begin to sing ; but Ecke's breastplate and 
 Hiltegrin overclang their singing. The blood runs 
 from the noses and ears of the knights. The 
 spear-shafts take fire from the sparks from the 
 helmets ; the smoke rises through the trees like 
 a cloud. So terrible is the strife, that no coward 
 could look upon it. Ecke strikes through the red 
 lion on Dietrich's shield, who gives way, but the 
 trees which are felled by Ecke's furious blows serve 
 him for a shield ; Ecke's own breastplate is hard 
 as a mountain. Dietrich gives Ecke a knock-down 
 blow, but the latter wounds him again and again, 
 and boasting already of his victory, tells Dietrich 
 he must follow him alive or dead. Dietrich how- 
 ever recovers new strength each time, and fells 
 his foe till five times, then calls on him to give 
 in. At last they wrestle on the grass; Dietrich 
 has the upper hand, and bids Ecke give up his 
 sword ; on his refusal he runs him through. But 
 he is grieved at what he has done ; ' My victory 
 and thy youthful death,' he exclaims, ' make me 
 red with shame ; never saw I knight so rush upon 
 his death, as, hero, thou hast done. Blessed on
 
 ECKE. 277 
 
 earth is he who in all things knows how to hold 
 and to leave.' After a long lament, he takes 
 off Ecke's armour, and by request of the latter 
 cuts off his head, and binds it to his saddle. 
 
 The rest of the poem is greatly inferior, and 
 seems to have been composed by some one who 
 was not even acquainted with the commence- 
 ment. Dietrich departing finds by a pleasant 
 spring a fair lady sleeping. Binding his hawk 
 to a linden-tree, he falls on one knee before her. 
 On awaking, she heals him with a wondrous salve, 
 and tells him she has a fair land in the sea, and 
 knows the evil and the good ; she bids him more- 
 over go to Jochgrim and give the news to the 
 queens, foretelling him much trouble, but promising 
 that he will eventually escape. On his way he 
 meets a maid who is pursued by Fasolt with his 
 leash-hounds, and overcomes in turn both him 
 and the third brother, here called Eggenot He 
 ends by killing their mother and sister, two fearful 
 giantesses. 
 
 The ' Lay of Ecke' belongs evidently to that 
 later school of poetry, in which the exploits of 
 particular heroes are related, rather than great 
 national traditions ; and to that later division of 
 the school, in which the individual is not even 
 brought into connexion with the general. It may
 
 2?8 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH). 
 
 be in this respect contrasted with ' Alphart's death,' 
 which it otherwise resembles somewhat in subject. 
 There, the wilfulness of Alphart was yet blended 
 with devotion to his chief; here, the wilfulness 
 of Ecke stands unredeemed by any sense of duty. 
 At the same time, there is a sort of epic greatness 
 still hanging over the career of the headstrong 
 youth, and the dash and brilliancy of the poem 
 are unmistakeable. That it must have been very 
 popular, that in its present shape we have only 
 a late rifaccimento, or rather the result of several 
 rifaccimenti of it, appears to me evident. Origi- 
 nally, Ecke seems to have been nothing but a 
 gallant, stalwart young knight; latterly, he was 
 transmogrified by vulgar hands into a paynim 
 giant, member of a brood of monsters. This 
 change of view is not only apparent, as already 
 indicated, in the conclusion, but may be traced 
 in various superadded details (which I have omitted 
 in great measure) throughout the poem, towards 
 the latter half of which indeed Ecke begins to be 
 designated in the text as a giant. Another obvious 
 inconsistency, for which the original author is 
 surely not to be held responsible, lies in the long 
 wanderings after Dietrich which are in one place 
 spoken of, whilst in the text as preserved Ecke 
 seems to have had only a forest to pass through be-
 
 ECKE. 279 
 
 fore coming within a few miles of Verona. There 
 are indeed historical indications of the popularity of 
 the legend throughout the thirteenth century. An 
 " Austrian Chronicle" of the middle of that century 
 speaks of ' how Dietrich slew sir Ecke.' Marner, 
 in the latter half of that century, refers to " Ecke's 
 death" as one of the subjects which a minstrel 
 would be called on to sing of. Hugo of Trimberg, 
 at the end of the century, mentions equally ' sir 
 Ecke,' and ' how sir Dietrich fought' with him, 
 as popular themes of song. Ottokar of Horneck 
 (about 1295) is still more distinct in speaking of 
 the three queens " who sent the great knight Ecke, 
 Vasolt's brother, after him of Bern," and of the 
 armour they gave him. Similar references occur 
 in various other German poems of the period, and 
 even in the " Livonian Chronicle." 
 
 III. THE GREAT ROSE-GARDEN (GROSSE ROSEN- 
 GARTEN). 
 
 All sense of greatness disappears when we con- 
 sider a poem, the last that I shall endeavour to
 
 28O THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH). 
 
 epitomize, but which is perhaps the pleasantest 
 specimen of the purely fanciful epic of chivalry 
 within the Norse-German cycle, the " Great Rose- 
 Garden." 
 
 The poet, who evidently considers himself to 
 have fallen on degenerate days, begins by referring 
 to the rich kings and heroes of old, how they 
 strove with one another for honour's sake without 
 hatred, how they could cleave shields and helmets 
 and suffer pain for fair ladies' sake, and went on 
 long journeys to increase their praise. Such a 
 journey to "Worms on the Rhine" he next pro- 
 ceeds to describe. 
 
 At Worms dwelt fair Kriemhilt, with her father 
 Gippich,* who had a garden full of red gold 
 and treasures ; whosoever might break into it, the 
 king would become his servant. In the garden 
 was joy and gladness, and red roses enough, and 
 twelve of the boldest men whom king Gippich 
 could collect, to defend the rose-garden, and many 
 a clever maiden white. And king Gippich sent 
 messengers to king Etzel, inviting him to come, if 
 he wished to look at the rose-garden, with twelve 
 heroes like unto his own, and he would serve him 
 
 * The "Gibicho" of 'Walthar of Aquitain,' the "Giuka" of 
 theEdda, the "Gifica" of the 'Scop's Tale,' the "Gibica" of the 
 Burgundian law, &c.
 
 THE GREAT ROSE-GARDEN. 28 1 
 
 if he won. (From some passages in the poem, it 
 would seem that these joustings were to be in 
 honour of Kriemhilt's wedding with Sifrit.) 
 
 So king Etzel rode into the land of Dietrich of 
 Bern, who came to meet him with five hundred 
 knights: 'Welcome, Etzel rich king of the Huns ; 
 what seek you in my land ?' ' King Gippich has 
 sent messengers to ask if any will dare ride against 
 the Burgundians ; he has a rose-garden at Worms 
 on the Rhine ; whoso breaches it, his servant will 
 he be.' He of Bern and Master Hildebrand pro- 
 mised to help the king ; as they went back to the 
 hostelry, they found many a knight sitting on a 
 table, and so merry that they would all have leapt 
 over it. " For God's sake now sit still," said lord 
 Dietrich. So, going to a bench, and calling his 
 chaplain and his secretary, he gives the latter the 
 letter to read, forbidding any to leave till they 
 have heard its contents. As the secretary opened 
 the letter, how loud he laughed ! " ' There stand 
 so many wonders in the letter, whoso is become 
 a knight, or will a knight become, let him hear 
 this news, and stand here by me.' 'What stands 
 then in the letter ?' said the chaplain. ' King 
 Gippich is her father, and well we know it ; down 
 there by the Rhine the lands obey him. . . Gunther 
 is her brother, and Gernot the other.' ' Now read
 
 282 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH). 
 
 for good, master, what stands in the letter?' 
 'Fair Kriemhilt has sent her greeting to us, an 
 the lord Dietrich dare carry his sword and his 
 shield to Worms on the Rhine ? and defiance to 
 lord Dietrich,* says the maid.' " Dietrich declares 
 that, if he should not be able to ride, they must 
 carry him thither, to do justice to the maiden's 
 greeting. The secretary reads further from the 
 letter the description of Kriemhilt's garden, which 
 she has dressed since she was a child, half a mile 
 broad, with many roses and other flowers ; a lin- 
 den-tree within it, so wide that it gives shade to 
 five hundred fair dames, with birds in its branches ; 
 beneath it bellows black as a coal, which when you 
 pull, there goes a wind through the branches above 
 in the lime-tree, where the birds are, and they 
 begin to sing so sweetly one against the other, the 
 small and the great, that no heart was ever so 
 mournful as not to be solaced by them ; under the 
 linden-tree is also a carved ivory seat, with samite 
 and furs upon it. Twelve chosen knights, each 
 a hero in storms and battles, keep the garden ; to 
 each is given a damsel, and a broad land ; they 
 must bring twelve that are their equals. And 
 what then ? says lord Dietrich. Each victor, a 
 damsel shall kiss him, and put a garland upon 
 
 * Und trutz und tratz her Dietrich. Untranslateable.
 
 THE GREAT ROSE-GARDEN. 283 
 
 him. " Now let her kiss the devil !" says Wolf- 
 hart. He is not for the journey, though he were 
 to vanquish ; he can do without such adventures ; 
 he has "a red mouth here too at home." Be- 
 comingly spoke Master Hildebrand : should he 
 perhaps win a garland, he will give it to the lady 
 Ute, his dear lady. Dietrich bids the secretary 
 name king Gippich's twelve knights ; the first is 
 the king himself, then Gunther, Gernot, Hagen 
 Aldrian's son, Walther, Volker of Alsace, sister's 
 son to Kriemhilt, the fiddler ; Stiifing king of 
 Hungary, Asprian the giant,* who bears two 
 swords, Schrudan the giant, who rules by fear over 
 the Prussians as far as the sea, Rienolt, Herbert, 
 and the twelfth Sifrit king of the Netherlands, who 
 bears twelve swords, one named Balmung. Wolf- 
 hart still declares that he will not ride to Worms 
 for a rose-garland, but remain at home with a 
 whole skull. ' He wants to be entreated to go,' 
 said his brother Alphart. But when Wittich says 
 he is willing to remain with Wolfhart, if his lord 
 allow, ' nay, we will all go,' says Wolfhart. One 
 or two others make objections. Heime would 
 gladly go, but not for roses. ' If I rode for roses," 
 replies Dietrich, ' it were apelike ;' but he must 
 
 * This is a personage who figures in another early epic hereafter 
 noticed, king Rother, and also in the Vilkina Saga.
 
 284 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH). 
 
 meet the maiden's challenge. And he bids the 
 secretary read on still, how, if they care not for 
 the roses, there are dragons to fight in the forest. 
 Finally, the twelve knights are chosen ; old Master 
 Hildebrand the first, then he of Bern, then Wolf- 
 hart, then "a proud youth of Denmark," then young 
 Sigstap ; Rudiger, the mild margrave ; Heime, 
 Wittich, Hartung the rich king of Russia, comely 
 Dietrich of Greece, high-minded Dietlieb of Styria 
 the eleventh. But who is to be the twelfth ? 
 
 Hildebrand suggests his brother, Ilsan the 
 monk. ' How can this be ?' asks Dietrich, since 
 he has been two-and-thirty years in the cloister ; 
 it were sin to take him from his good life. " Know 
 you not, dear lord, what the monk swore to you, 
 when you gave him leave to enter the cloister? 
 He promised you a ride," (i. e. a knightly ex- 
 pedition) "and swore you an oath, that when ye 
 would he should be ready." 
 
 They ride towards Isenburg, Master Hildebrand 
 foremost. On the fifth morning they were at the 
 convent gates, as the monk was about to sing 
 an early mass. The lords with their shields al- 
 most knocked in the door. " Let me in quick," 
 said Master Hildebrand, " I too would fain be a 
 brother in the cloister." ' Who knocks at the 
 door ?' cried monk Ilsan. ' Bring me my armour,
 
 THE GREAT ROSE-GARDEN. 285 
 
 and my good sword, and my bright helmet ;' ' if 
 they wish to force the monks, were they two-and- 
 thirty, I attack them all. Quick tell, who is before 
 the door?' Lord, it is an old man, and bears 
 three wolves.' ' Hurrah, ever hurrah, it is my 
 brother Hildebrand.' ' By his side is a younger 
 man, and seems a strong hero; on his shield an 
 angry lion.' ' It is my lord Dietrich.' Then went 
 to the door monk Ilsan ; over his mail he bore 
 a grey coat, on his legs he bore coarse thick hosen. 
 ' Benedicite, brother/ said Master Hildebrand. 'The 
 devil lead thee,' said the monk, ' that thou shouldst 
 be riding to battle the livelong year ; thou mightest 
 have thy ease by lady Ute's side.' ' I would do 
 it if I could,' said Master Hildebrand ; ' but I must 
 ride for roses ; we are sent for by fair Kriemhilt.' 
 ' Well it appears, dear brother, that you are 
 mad. Are you on your way to Bern, lord Diet- 
 rich ?' ' My lord begs you,' said Master Hilde- 
 brand, ' to fulfil your troth to him, pledged with 
 your hand and sworn to, that when he chose to 
 ride, you should be ready.' Ilsan knows well 
 that he promised it, and if they go to Bern, he 
 is ready to fare with them, but will have nought 
 to say to the ride to Worms. However, on Diet- 
 rich's telling him that it will be shame to him not 
 to help his brother, he yields, and throwing off
 
 286 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH). 
 
 his cape, stands forth in his " old storm-armour." 
 He " will go to Worms, and see the river of Rhine, 
 for a garland of roses, for a damsel's kiss ;" they 
 must pledge him that all shall be fulfilled to him, 
 though Kriemhilt should say that she had never 
 thought of such a thing. He now invites them 
 to breakfast, and promises good wine; the monks 
 must pay for it. After they have eaten, a horse 
 is brought to the monk, " Scheming's brother, 
 mickle and strong," and he girds on a sword. The 
 abbot willingly grants him leave to depart, which 
 he does after taking his spear and his sword, with 
 which " in his day he has played so often." The 
 monks all curse him as he goes : " For that thou 
 hast parted from thy brotherhood, mayest thou be 
 killed and never victorious ! So strong a man 
 is he, we are deceived in him ; so often has he 
 pulled us round by the ears, when we would not 
 do what he bade us ; he brought us in the cloister 
 into anxiousness and need." But an old monk 
 praises God for the riddance. 
 
 On the fifth morning at daybreak the lords 
 had reached the host, save Wolfhart alone, who 
 lay apart, but on hearing the news came before 
 them, pointing out as an outrage that " he of Bern" 
 has brought a monk with him. " Mockest thou ?" 
 said Heime. ' If thou wilt not believe me, see
 
 THE GREAT ROSE-GARDEN. 287 
 
 him yonder thyself.' Up sprang all the lords ; 
 those who could not find shoes went barefoot, 
 running all together towards Dietrich, save Wolf- 
 hart alone, who ran somewhat behind. " Welcome 
 from God, lord Dietrich of Bern," said all the lords 
 together; "and be you welcome also, old Hilde- 
 brand ; but what the evil devil would the monk 
 in this land ?" " Sir monk," said Wolfhart, " take 
 yourself off hence quick to the cells ; I will not 
 ride with you to the foreign land." "Who is the 
 young knight ?" said monk Ilsan ; " if he will not 
 have a care of himself he will suffer for it." ' He 
 is thy sister's son,' said Master Hildebrand. ' Is 
 it then Wolfhart ? He lay in the cradle when 
 I last saw him ; I knew not that I was to suffer 
 from him so great an outrage." Matters are made 
 up between uncle and nephew. All rejoin king 
 Etzel, who rides back with them to the country, 
 and takes in Dietrich, Hildebrand, and Rudeger 
 to queen Herke (Helche of the ' Nibelungenlied'). 
 
 Graciously she welcomes them. They tell her 
 of the garden up the Rhine, of the birds that 
 sit on the linden-tree, of the bright maidens each 
 with a rose-garland on her head, of the twelve 
 knights already afield, who on their coats of mail 
 bear twelve golden birds, whose plumage must 
 be praised over all the world. ' Bring us of the
 
 288 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH). 
 
 roses' from Worms on the Rhine, says the noble 
 queen. Here too has she many a clever maid ; 
 if they conquer, each shall have a damsel and 
 a broad land ; and if they of the Rhine have their 
 coats all adorned with golden birds, she will have 
 all theirs adorned with twelve " sea-wonders." 
 To work these, she has her chests opened, and 
 bids the goldsmiths take out gold and precious 
 stones ; each sea-wonder has a gem in its mouth ; 
 their banner too is worked with red gold and 
 gems, and with gems too the helmets of the twelve 
 knights. She bids them choose for themselves 
 swift chargers ; long of side are they and strong 
 of chest, and wide-leaping. She has a rich tent 
 made, all bright with gold and precious stones, so 
 that " it blazed like a taper" ; the twelve champions 
 were at their ease beneath it. One found there 
 many a lordly game ; the tables were of ivory, 
 smooth as glass ; above in the tent lay the bright 
 carbuncle. After many encouragements they take 
 their leave one by one ; Master Hildebrand has 
 charge of the 'storm-banner,' and leads them joy- 
 fully through the land. 
 
 But on reaching the river Rhine, he plants his 
 banner, and speaks to the lords, bidding a halt, for 
 never saw they such big ferrymen as are here. 
 One of such he knows well, and good luck must
 
 THE GREAT ROSE-GARDEN. 289 
 
 he have who should cross with his life against that 
 ferryman's will ; and he has twelve sons, all fearful ; 
 whomsoever he ferries over, he will have of him 
 for fee the right foot and the left hand. ' An evil 
 pledge to leave,' said he of Bern ; ' I will attack 
 him myself.' ' I will be messenger,' said monk 
 Ilsan ; ' the big man will ween I am a pilgrim 
 when he sees my beard.' ' Strange news this,' said 
 Wolfhart ; ' how shall we conquer twelve men in 
 the garden, if we suffer so great an outrage from 
 one ? We should beg of him as men beg of an 
 ass, with a good scourge, and say, " Now ferry 
 us over Rhine, and the devil pay thee, thy dear 
 lord !" 
 
 Meanwhile knights and ladies from Worms have 
 seen many a red banner waving over the heather, 
 and the glitter of gems on the helmets. These 
 guests, they say, are come to fight in the rose- 
 garden ; evil befal Kriemhilt for sending letters 
 to the Huns! At this moment monk Ilsan came 
 to the Rhine, and began to call to the ferryman : 
 ' Wilt thou ferry twelve men over ? they shall pay 
 thee.' 'Yes, dear brother,' replied the ferryman, 
 ' I will ferry thee over for God's sake.' But when 
 he had brought his boat over, and saw the monk 
 in battle array, he began to reproach him for de- 
 ceiving him, and seizing a rudder (or oar) struck 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 2QO THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH). 
 
 at the monk, who however sprang under it, and 
 began fighting the ferryman with his fists, till the 
 blood ran, and the ferryman at last was struck 
 to the ground. ' Such a strong devil I never 
 knew,' said the ferryman ; ' never was I yet felled 
 in storm or in strife ; now hath he conquered me 
 as if I were a little child of seven years old.' Since 
 Kriemhilt the queen has invited such guests, let 
 her will be done. So he has boats enough made 
 ready, and ferries over the knights with their crowned 
 helmets. In the town of Worms many a knight's 
 lady is saying that so many proud heroes were 
 never ferried over Rhine ; if they come into the 
 garden, Kriemhilt's heroes will be slain. King 
 Etzel promises the ferryman, if he conquers, to 
 share his wealth with him. ' Come when ye please,' 
 said the ferryman, ' you will find me ready.' 
 
 They pitch their tents in the field by Worms. 
 Mild Riideger is sent as a messenger, to know if 
 the knights will fight by the Rhine or in the 
 garden ; he is clad in a garment worth 12,000 marks. 
 He fares alone with Herman his squire, and alights 
 at the garden. The queen sits under a dais for 
 the sun. ' Say, rich prince, what is thy name ?' 
 said one of the ladies. ' I serve king Etzel and 
 lord Dietrich ; the fairest among you all, what 
 is her name ?' ' The fairest among us all is Kriem-
 
 THE GREAT ROSE-GARDEN. 29 1 
 
 hilt the fair maid.' Kneeling the margrave pre- 
 sents the letter, which the queen's secretary reads, 
 loud laughing at the acceptance of the challenge 
 by king Etzel and lord Dietrich and their knights, 
 who mean to destroy all the flowers and the grass 
 of the garden, so that it be all wet with blood. 
 
 A damsel asks that the margrave may hear 
 the birds sing. So they began to pull the bellows ; 
 a wind went through the branches above in the 
 linden-tree where the birds were ; they sang one 
 against the other, the small and the great; was 
 never heart so sorrowful that could weary of that 
 pastime; they sang one against the other, the 
 throstle and nightingale. 'You have upon earth here 
 a whole heavenly realm,' said the margrave ; " could 
 I live in it, so long as live I may, a year with 
 the ladies were but a short day." A damsel played 
 sweetly with a lute ;* whoso heard her must be 
 rich with joy. The margrave took off his garment 
 and gave it to her. ' What prince can this be ?' 
 said the queen, ' to give such rich gifts.' Again 
 they ask him who he is. " Right virtuously" he 
 replies : ' I serve king Etzel and lord Dietrich ; 
 I am subject to lady Herke the mild ; I am called 
 Riideger of Bechlan' (Bechlar). The queen says 
 
 * The "rotta" or "chrotta", a well-known instrument of the 
 middle ages, which appears as early as in Venantius Fortunatus.
 
 2Q2 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH). 
 
 she has heard much of his virtues. Does he see 
 the twelve damsels sitting before her? she will 
 give him one, with a golden crown, and a kingdom. 
 He replies that he will rest satisfied with the lady 
 Gotelint, " since God from heaven led me to her 
 from the first ;" he will remain stedfast to her, and 
 grow old beside her. But when are they to come 
 with the armed hand ? At this very hour, replied 
 the queen. 
 
 He took leave of her at midday. On his 
 return, Dietrich asks at once where he has lost his 
 garment. Rudeger replies that he gave it to a 
 maiden who played so sweetly on the harp and 
 the lute. " Thou art a mild man," say they all. 
 He then tells them that " he has been in paradise ;" 
 that there are damsels in the garden who would 
 take away sorrow from all eyes ; a kiss from them 
 will be a rich reward. It is agreed to send Hil- 
 debrand on the morrow to arrange the fight. Sig- 
 stap undertakes the ' shield-watch', and is attacked 
 by Rienolt of Megilant (Milan), whom he wounds. 
 
 Hildebrand is courteously received by king 
 Gippich, and asks him to select his twelve cham- 
 pions. The king will be the first for his daughter's 
 sake. Hildebrand, who is a hundred years old, 
 will fight him himself. Gunther is matched against 
 Friite of Denmark, Gernot against Rudeger, Hagen
 
 THE GREAT ROSE-GARDEN. 293 
 
 against Wolfhart, Walther against Hartung of 
 Russia, Stiifing of Hungary against Dietlieb of 
 Syria, Asprian the giant against Wittich, Schrudan 
 of Prussia against Heime the four-elbowed, Herbert 
 against fair Dietrich of Greece, Volker of Alsace 
 the fiddler, sister's son to Briinhilt,* against monk 
 Ilsan, Sifrit of the Netherlands against lord Diet- 
 rich. But Rienolt has got wounded overnight, and 
 cannot fight. Hildebrand goes back, and bids his 
 men get ready; one after another must go to the 
 fight. He has all the huts where they have slept 
 set fire to ; and men see on the field the strong 
 heroes with their crowned helmets, their swift 
 steeds by them. 
 
 At the blowing of king Etzel's horn comes 
 Hagen, a silver-white shield in his hand, two 
 golden horns on his helmet. He springs into the 
 garden ; angrily he cries, ' With whom am I to 
 fight?' 'With Wolfhart,' replies Hildebrand, and 
 Wolfhart springs forward on his white horse, a 
 wolf of red gold on his shield, a silver-white stake 
 upon his helmet, in his hand a spear big as the 
 arm. They meet and unhorse each other, they 
 seize their swords, they strike upon one another 
 as if they were blind. Weary at last, they sit 
 down and rest awhile, unloosing their helmets, 
 
 * To Kriemhilt, according to an earlier passage.
 
 294 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH). 
 
 and washing from their eyes the dust and the 
 sweat; then, refreshed, they spring up and strive 
 together again, till their shields are red with blood. 
 But Hagen is struck to the earth, and had the 
 queen not parted them in haste, Wolfhart would 
 have killed him. Wolfhart cries, with voice sound- 
 ing like a horn, that he must have more fighting ; 
 where is Hagen ? The queen tells him Hagen 
 will not strive any more ; let Wolfhart take the 
 prize. 
 
 King Gippich now calls for Asprian. " Up 
 sprang the giant, long and big therewith," and 
 grimly armed himself. Hildebrand calls Wittich 
 to oppose him. " Have I killed thy father or thy 
 brother, that thou hast betrayed me to this devil's 
 man, and paired me against him ? take him your- 
 self in hand. So big is he and so long, the devil, 
 that for fighting with him I have no desire." Diet- 
 rich entreats Wittich to undertake the fight, pro- 
 mising him his good horse Scheming. Wittich 
 asks for Hildebrand's warranty of the gift, which 
 is granted. Yet will he not 'risk his worthy life 
 against the long giant' unless margrave Riideger 
 will arm him and grant him reconcilement for what, 
 in the text I am following, remains an unexplained 
 cause of offence, but which, from other texts, ap- 
 pears to be the slaying of Nuodung, Riideger's son,
 
 THE GREAT ROSE-GARDEN. 295 
 
 referred to in the Nibelungenlied, when Hagen 
 receives Nuodung's shield from the margravine. 
 This too is done, and Wittich at last springs into 
 the garden. The giant strikes upon him with his 
 two swords; of all the heroes was none so over- 
 matched as Wittich ; but he fights craftily, fleeing 
 before the giant till he finds an opportunity of 
 cutting off one of his hands. The giant is furious, 
 and with the other hand discharges a blow which 
 strikes Wittich down upon one knee; in all his 
 days it had never so happened to him. But spring- 
 ing up between the giant's legs, he cuts off one of 
 his feet,* and then his hauberk, which three men 
 could not have carried. " Wittich," cries the queen, 
 "thou must let him live." But he did as though 
 he heard it not, and took away his life ; then turn- 
 ing round, said : " Proud maiden, if you will have 
 the long giant, he shall not be denied you." She 
 complains that he would not hear when she first 
 called. If he has slain him, he may have him him- 
 self. So Wittich quits the garden, receives the 
 good horse Scheming from him of Bern, and 
 mounting him declares that now he fears no longer 
 king nor kaisar. 
 
 Schrudan, Asprian's comrade, is slain in turn 
 
 * Wittich, it will be observed, is represented here as using fairly 
 the crafts which he uses unfairly in ' Alphart'.
 
 296 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH). 
 
 by Heime; then Stiifing by Dietlieb. Giinther, 
 matched against young king Frute of Denmark 
 whom he has deprived of his inheritance,* receives 
 a blow which cuts through his helmet, so that the 
 blood runs down before his eyes and blinds him. 
 The queen springs up and begs that they be parted. 
 Friite declares that unless his heritage be restored 
 he will kill Gunther. " I thought your fighting 
 here was for roses," she says. " Lady, my land is 
 dearer to me than your roses." He seizes his 
 sword right grimly. "Your land is won," cry all 
 the ladies. " I will never believe it," he answers, 
 " unless Gunther says it." Gunther grants the land 
 back. Hildebrand rejoices over Friite's success. 
 "God abide by the right, who knows all things," 
 says he of Bern. Gippich laments his son's ill-fate. 
 ' We have deserved it, by my faith,' says Gunther. 
 
 Gernot is now matched against Rlideger, who 
 " springs to his foe amid the red roses." As they 
 fight, and either breastplate is red with blood, a 
 damsel with her red mouth prays God to watch 
 over the knight who gave her such rich gifts. 
 Kriemhilt strikes her on the mouth, that the blood 
 flows ; " Wishest thou luck to a stranger man ?" 
 But when Riideger sees the damsel bleeding, so 
 
 * This indicates evidently a different legend from that of ' Gu- 
 drun' respecting one of the personages of that poem.
 
 THE GREAT ROSE-GARDEN. 297 
 
 fiercely he strives that the queen springs up, parting 
 them, and awarding him the prize. Walther is in 
 turn rescued from Hartung, whilst Herbert is killed 
 by Dietrich of Greece; Rienolt is conquered by 
 Sigstap. 
 
 Monk Ilsan is now called out by Hildebrand. 
 He comes forward, a grey coat over his mail. 
 ' Give me,' he asks, ' a champion among the roses, 
 or I tread them all down, and leave never a one.' 
 He proceeds to tramp up and down the garden, 
 treading down the roses. None comes forward to 
 meet him. ' Hast thou none bold enough to with- 
 stand him, dear father ?' says the queen ; ' may 
 his grey coat be shamed for ever!' Monk Ilsan 
 laughs. ' Most noble queen, cursing is forbidden, 
 as well I know, who am a cloister-man.' '111 
 service is it to God to mock me thus,' says the 
 queen. ' My orders are true,' he replies ; ' see here 
 my staff, given to me by the abbot himself, who 
 sent me to hear confessions.' ' Heavy is this man's 
 mock ; he bears a sharp sword for a staff. Say, was 
 the abbot not uncanny, who gave it thee ? It is 
 the devil whom thou servest with thy staff.' 
 ' Though I were to lose here my soul for roses, the 
 news came to the cloister that brought me hither, 
 that every one shall have a damsel's kiss, who 
 dares fight here for a rose-garland ; for this will
 
 298 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH). 
 
 I break shield and helmet.' "The devil kiss thee 
 on thy rough beard," says the lady. King Gippich 
 calls out Volker to fight with him, on whose shield 
 was a fiddle. With strong swift strokes they 
 fight; but the monk looks often upon the ladies, 
 for which Hildebrand sharply reproves him. He 
 has however the upper hand, and the queen has 
 the combatants parted. 'To the devil I com- 
 mend thee and thy brethren,' says Volker ; ' thou 
 hast given me great strokes with thy staff; a bold 
 serving man is he who dares wait on thee.' ' Has 
 the queen any more fiddlers ?' asks the monk ; 
 'how sweet soever their strings may sound, their 
 fiddlebow is sick.' 
 
 Gippich now turns to Sifrit, bidding him arm; 
 if he will avenge him, fair Kriemhilt shall be his 
 own. Up stands the queen, and kisses the king 
 of the Netherlands, bidding him fight cheerfully. 
 Let her be without anxiety, he tells her; whoso 
 shall fight with him, though he had the courage of 
 three men, he will overcome him with his good 
 sword. Hildebrand calls out Dietrich to oppose 
 him. And here occurs a scene exactly parallel to 
 the one in ' Biterolf/ Dietrich declining to encounter 
 the "devil's man" till his blood is warmed by Hil- 
 debrand's taunts, and afterwards by an encounter 
 with him, with the addition however of a few de-
 
 THE GREAT ROSE-GARDEN. 299 
 
 tails, as that Wolfhart is ready to fight if Diet- 
 rich is not, that Dietrich leaves Hildebrand after 
 striking him to the ground, and (by a trick of the 
 old man) is afterwards told of his death by Wolf- 
 hart. Grieved at this news, he goes and knocks at 
 the garden gate : " Let me quickly in to Sifrit the 
 wild, though he be horned ;* slain through him 
 lies Master Hildebrand ; I will avenge me on him, 
 though he were a stone wall." The fight is a 
 furious one, so that many a noble lady weeps : 
 "And should two generous princes lose their life 
 for the queen's will ?" they say, " it is too much." 
 " Let them fight !" said Kriemhilt ; " it is child's 
 play to me; who ever saw for roses so grim a 
 strife as fights lord Dietrich of Bern with Sifrit of 
 the Netherlands ?" The blood flows in streams ; 
 Sifrit wins new strength by thinking of the kiss 
 his lady gave him, and presses Dietrich so sorely 
 that he takes to flight. Already Kriemhilt de- 
 clares that he will have to be her servant all his 
 life. 'Why hold you not your peace, lady Kriem- 
 hilt ?' says Brimhilt ; ' When he of Bern is right 
 enraged, he strikes deep wounds.' Hildebrand 
 
 * This term already occurs in one passage of the Nibelungen, 
 and gives its name to the latest poem of the Sigurd legend, that 
 of the "Horned Siegfried." As Mr. Carlyle explains, it is meant 
 to express Sifrit's invulnerableness, not his being crested with actual 
 horns.
 
 300 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH). 
 
 runs up and begins again to scold his master, who 
 returns to the fight; but once more Sifrit begins to 
 drive him round. ' Go to thy master, Hildebrand,' 
 cries Wittich, ' and again reprove him, or we shall 
 lose here prize and honour.' Loudly calls Hilde- 
 brand to him, ' How now, well-known prince of 
 Bern ? look on the fair ladies, born on the Rhine, 
 how they sit under the linden-trees, and all make 
 mock of thee, young and old together.' Dietrich 
 is enraged, and begins to " reek," like a house on 
 fire. Seizing his sword Rose with both hands, 
 to the joy of the Huns, he strikes Sifrit with 
 wounds deep and long through horn and through 
 mail, so that Sifrit in turn flees before him. 
 Briinhilt now begins to taunt Kriemhilt, who 
 at last, seeing Sifrit's double hauberk hewn off 
 from his body by Dietrich's sword, and the 
 blood flowing over his gold-coloured shield, weep- 
 ing springs from her seat, and bidding all her 
 ladies come with her, runs through flowers and 
 roses to the fighters, calling out to Dietrich to 
 cease fighting, for he has won the prize. Dietrich 
 pretends not to hear, till with great strokes he has 
 hewn off Sifrit's helmet. At last, all the ladies 
 entreating him, as looking through his visor he 
 sees " so many red mouthlings" speaking to him, 
 he grants life to the Netherlander, who is taken
 
 THE GREAT ROSE-GARDEN. 30 1 
 
 under the arms and carried off, and his wounds 
 searched, which were more than a span wide. He 
 declares that had he known Dietrich six months 
 before, he would have avoided him ; the devil in 
 hell should fight him. 'Well we knew,' say the 
 ladies, ' that when he of Bern is right enraged, he 
 strikes deep wounds.' 
 
 There remain of the champions only Hildebrand 
 and king Gippich. Dietrich taunts the former, 
 telling him the king will pay him off all he has 
 himself had to suffer from him. They fight ; king 
 Gippich thirsts for revenge, and pursues Hildebrand 
 with uplifted sword. ' Hildebrand, bold knight,' 
 says Dietrich, ' if king Gippich slays thee, I'll give 
 to lady Ute a young husband, of whom she is well 
 worthy.' ' Nay, lord of Bern, were I slain, men 
 would hear lady Ute wail and lament and hotly 
 weep ; so great is her troth toward me, it would 
 be ever woe to her red mouth, should she have 
 to take another husband than me ; so will I well 
 fight for the lovely lady.' So saying, he strikes 
 through king Gippich's armour and shield, bidding 
 him pay for Dietrich's words, and fells the king 
 at last at his feet. 'Will you let your father 
 perish?' cry the young damsels to Kriemhilt; 
 ' will you not think that he is your father ?' ' Let 
 my father live,' cries she to Hildebrand. ' If you
 
 302 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH). 
 
 with your heroes become subject to my lord, I will 
 let your father live.' The terms must needs be 
 accepted. 
 
 Hildebrand leaves the garden with king Gip- 
 pich and Sifrit, who have to give up their sceptres 
 and crowns to king Etzel. Sifrit bewails himself; 
 to-day he was a king, but now a poor man ; what 
 is life worth to him ? Etzel however bids them 
 keep their crowns, but be subject to himself and 
 to the lord Dietrich. ' Now prepare yourselves 
 quickly, ye knights, that ye may receive the 
 garland and the kiss.' 
 
 The twelve heroes go into the garden. Towards 
 each of them comes a shapely damsel, who em- 
 braces the champion, sets a rose-garland on his 
 head, and kisses him on the mouth. Dietrich 
 mocks Wolfhart for receiving a rose-garland on 
 uncombed hair. ' It is Hagen's sword that has 
 disordered it,' replies Wolfhart. ' The heroes have 
 all their reward, and not I,' says monk Ilsan; 'I 
 must seek it with my* good sword. I must have 
 a chaplet, or the linden-tree must pay for my 
 waiting ; the dais against the sunshine will I hew 
 down, the birds on the tree will all be set free.' 
 ' An you be a good friar,' says the queen, ' do me 
 no violence.' 'Then give me my chaplet.' 'The 
 garland thou shalt have at once, but no damsel
 
 THE GREAT ROSE-GARDEN. 303 
 
 will kiss thee on thy rough beard.' 'Am I then 
 the devil, because I have a rough beard ? I bear 
 true orders ; I will have my right, or knights and 
 squires shall lie dead by my hands.' 'A red 
 mouthling shall reconcile us,' said the queen. Then 
 came toward him a clever maiden, a rose-garland 
 in her hands ; she set it on the monk's short hair. 
 He took the fair maiden under the arms: "Who 
 ever saw on earth so sweet an image ?" She kissed 
 monk Ilsan on his rough beard : ' Had I such joy 
 within my convent, I would live for ever without 
 torment under the friar's coat, I would kiss for 
 worship more than a thousand times this image 
 that stands before me. Now must I rue it ever, 
 that I have to leave her here, her smile, and her 
 embrace, and her lovely countenance.' The monk 
 would have pledged himself to her on the spot, but 
 Dietrich reproves him, saying it would be told to 
 the abbot. ' So great is the falseness of the abbot 
 and the brotherhood,' says Ilsan, 'whoso should 
 bring him news that I had lost my life, all would 
 rejoice, and give him rich largess; not a monk in 
 the cloister is friendly to me.' ' This talk wearies 
 me,' said wounded Hagen ; ' let whoso may rejoice, 
 no joy is mine; soft salve were better for me than 
 all red mouths ; and though I should heal, yet 
 have we lost four knights for Kriemhilt's sake ; the
 
 304 THE BOOK OF HEROES (HELDENBUCH). 
 
 devil serve her, as Wolfhart served me!' Wolf- 
 hart expresses his regret at having harmed him, 
 and asks him for his friendship. ' Willingly,' said 
 Hagen, 'the fault is not thine; Kriemhilt the 
 queen hath brewed the slaughter.' The poem con- 
 cludes by the departure of the champions from 
 Hunland, their return by way of Bechlar, their 
 reception by the queen of the Huns, and their dis- 
 persion, with the incident of Wittich's earlier de- 
 parture, on account of Wolfhart's jealousy at 
 seeing him in possession of the horse Scheming. 
 Monk Ilsan, as might be expected, is refused ad- 
 mission at his convent, and has to break in the 
 door. 
 
 Mr. Carlyle's brief account of the " Great Rose- 
 Garden" is apparently derived through Weber from 
 a late text, stuffed out with a host of superfluous 
 exaggerations, especially as regards the prowess 
 of monk Ilsan. The latter, who figures in serious 
 shape in ' Alphart's death,' and is perhaps also the 
 'Elsan' of the 'Battle of Ravenna,' although he 
 has various congeners in the French cycle, and is 
 by no means distantly related to our Friar Tuck, 
 becomes yet, as it seems to me, in the hands of the 
 author, a perfectly original personage, the creation 
 of whom would alone mark the true poet. The 
 want of reality in the ' Rose-garden,' while de-
 
 THE GREAT ROSE-GARDEN. 305 
 
 priving it of true epic power, does not moreover 
 impair the poetical character of the work. You 
 evidently see that the author does not in the least 
 believe what he is telling; but he would fain be 
 able still to do so; and this yearning after an 
 avowedly ideal past, coupled with a considerable 
 amount of genial dramatic power, is precisely what 
 gives its peculiar charm to the poem. There is 
 moreover great skill and delicacy in the way in 
 which the tragic story of the ' Nibelungenlied' is led 
 up to by the exhibition of Kriemhilt's pride and 
 wilfulness, and of Hagen's feelings of resentment 
 towards her. The ' Great Rose-Garden' must have 
 been highly popular, for Von der Hagen tells us 
 that ' Chriemhilt's Rose-Garden' is still the name 
 of a meadow near Worms. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 CLOSE OF THE NORSE-GERMAN CYCLE; 
 THE 'HORNED SIEGFRIED;' THE DANISH BALLADS. 
 
 WITH the ' Great Rose-Garden' I close this survey 
 of the Norse-German cycle proper. It is not indeed 
 considered to be the latest by any means of the 
 poems in that cycle, being ascribed by Grimm to the 
 middle, by Gervinus even to the beginning of the 
 thirteenth century. But it marks, properly speak- 
 ing, the German transition to the renaissance school 
 of epic among the Italians, artistic, elaborate, 
 mostly facetious or satirical. 'Alphart,' the 'Ra- 
 vennaschlacht,' even ' Ecke,' if later in date, are in 
 fact earlier in character than the 'Great Rose- 
 Garden.' 
 
 Beyond them all lies the ' Horned Siegfried,' 
 with its childish stories of Siegfried and Chriem- 
 hild's childhood, of her being carried off by a 
 dragon, of his combat with the dragon, and victory 
 over it by the aid of a dwarf. This belongs really,
 
 THE DANISH BALLADS. 307 
 
 though in verse, to the group of the German 
 ' Kinder marchen.' The legend of Siegfried's horny 
 skin, which gives it its name, is no doubt, as shewn 
 by the reference to it in the " Great Rose-Garden" 
 in the thirteenth century, of much earlier date than 
 the poem of the " Horned Siegfried" itself. But 
 such a coarse material rendering of the idea of 
 invulnerableness indicates of itself the degeneracy 
 of poetical conception.* The cycle of Norse-Ger- 
 man epic, properly so called, is worked out. 
 
 But as that cycle has for one of its starting- 
 points the epoids or shorter pieces of the Older 
 Edda, so its true conclusion lies in the Danish 
 ballads. These, in their earliest preserved form, 
 belong only to the sixteenth century, the first 
 hundred of them having been published, as may 
 be seen from the Preface to Grimm's " Altdanische 
 Heldenlieder," in 1591, whilst the larger collection 
 of the " Kampe-viser" dates only from 1695. But 
 there is about some of them an unmistakeable 
 character of antique vigour, which carries us far 
 away from the close of the sixteenth century. A 
 few which turn upon the legends of the Norse- 
 German epic cycle are remarkable indeed, as be- 
 
 * Vilmar and other German writers indeed consider that the 
 ' Horned Siegfried' must have had a very ancient original. I differ 
 from them in toto. Legends of heroes' childhoods are always of 
 secondary growth.
 
 308 CLOSE OF THE NORSE-GERMAN CYCLE: 
 
 longing far more to the German than to the Norse 
 portion of that cycle, but with peculiarities of their 
 own. Thus, the kingdom of the Huns becomes in 
 them the small island of " Huen" in the Sound; that 
 Sound, and not the river Rhine, becomes the scene 
 of the famous crossing; Hagen and Volker, under the 
 names of "Hogen" and "Volquart" or "Folquard," 
 are the prominent personages, and are treated as 
 brothers to " Grimild" ; the ' Grim Hagen' of the 
 Nibelungenlied becoming here a young hero who 
 wins damsels' favours at his last hour ; the tragedy 
 of the Hall of Slaughter dwindles down into the 
 deaths of Hagen and Volker alone, and in various 
 other details the legend departs from either type 
 before set out. I would say at once that it appears 
 to me not at all unlikely that this Danish form of 
 the legend is the one really referred to by Saxo 
 Grammaticus, and consequently that it may well 
 belong to the thirteenth century. 
 
 To give an idea of these, I shall translate the 
 first of three, which are indeed to a great extent 
 identical in subject and treatment. 
 
 " It was the proud lady Grimild, who had the 
 mead prepared ; she invited the bold knights from 
 all strange and distant lands ; she invited them to 
 come without delay to the fight and to the strife. 
 
 "It was the hero Hogen, who lost his young
 
 THE DANISH BALLADS. 309 
 
 life. It was the hero Hogen, who went out to the 
 strand ; he found there the Ferryman upon the 
 white sand. 'Hearken, good Ferryman, ferry me 
 over the Sound ; I give thee my good golden ring, 
 that weighs well fifteen pounds.' ' I ferry thee not 
 over the Sound, for all thy gold so red ; an thou 
 come into Huenild's land, there shalt thou be slain 
 to death. 
 
 " It was the hero Hogen, who drew out his sword; 
 it was the hapless Ferryman, whose head he cut off. 
 He took the golden ring from his arm, he gave it 
 to Ferryman's wife : ' This shalt thou have for love, 
 for Ferryman's young body.' 
 
 " It was the hero Hogen, who went up and down 
 on the strand ; he found there a mer-dame, resting 
 on the white sand. ' Hail to thee, hail to thee, 
 good mer-dame, an artful wife art thou ; an I come 
 into Huenild's land, can I preserve my life ?' 
 ' Strong forts hast thou, also much gold so red ; 
 an thou come on Huen island, there shalt thou be 
 slain to death.' 
 
 " It was the hero Hogen, who quick outdrew his 
 sword ; it was the hapless mer-dame, whose head 
 he cut off. The bloody head he seized, he threw it 
 out into the Sound, he tossed the body after ; there 
 both met at the bottom. Lord Gimmer and Lord 
 Germer, they pushed the skiff from the land with
 
 310 CLOSE OF THE NORSE-GERMAN CYCLE: 
 
 courage. Angry to them was the weather, and 
 strong the sea flood. 
 
 "Angry to them was the weather, and strong 
 the sea flood. The iron rudder good went in twain 
 in hero Hogen's hand. 
 
 " The iron rudder strong went in twain in hero 
 Hogen's hand. With two gilded shields the lords 
 steered themselves to land. 
 
 " As now they came to land, they drew out their 
 swords. There stood there a damsel so proud, who 
 looked upon their passage. Small was she in the 
 middle, of right measure in her length, short in the 
 body ; her gait was that of a damsel. 
 
 "To Nordbing they go, where the porter was 
 wont to stand : ' Where is now the porter, who 
 should here watch and go ?' ' Here is the porter, 
 who lies for protection and defence ; an I knew 
 whence ye came, your message I were lieve to 
 bear.' ' Hither are we come over three fields of 
 land ; Lady Grimild is our sister ; be that known 
 to thee in truth.' 
 
 " In then went the porter, and placed himself 
 straightway before the table; clever was he in 
 speech, full well could he shape his words. 
 
 " Clever was he in speech, full well could he 
 shape his words : ' There tarry without before the 
 door two so well-born men
 
 THE DANISH BALLADS. 311 
 
 "There tarry without before the door two so 
 well-born men ! The one bears a riddle, the other 
 a gilded helmet. The fiddle he bears not for any 
 lord's reward ; from whencesoever they are come, 
 they are two dukes' sons.' 
 
 " It was the proud lady Grimild ; she wrapped 
 her head in her garment; she went to the court- 
 yard of the fort, and invited her brothers in : 
 'Will ye go into the room, and drink mead and 
 wine ? A bed of silk, when ye would sleep, and 
 two damsels mine.' 
 
 "It was the proud lady Grimild; she wrapped 
 her head in her garment; so went she into the 
 stone-built room before all her champions : ' Here 
 sit ye, all my men, and drink both mead and wine ; 
 who will slay hero Hogen, my best beloved bro- 
 ther ? Whoso will earn this prize, let him slay 
 hero Hogen to death : he shall rule in my castles, 
 and win my gold so red.' 
 
 "Thereupon answered a champion, a governor 
 over the land : ' The prize insooth will I earn with 
 this free hand ; the prize will I earn, and slay hero 
 Hogen to death ; so am I master over thy castles, 
 and over thy gold so red.' 
 
 " To this spake Player Folquard, with his great 
 iron-stake : ' Fairly will I teach thee, ere thou go 
 forth.' Therewith he struck the first stroke, fifteen
 
 312 CLOSE OF THE NORSE-GERMAN CYCLE: 
 
 champions lay dead. Ha! ha! Player Folquard, 
 how thou movest thy fiddle-bow ! 
 
 " He struck the champions so, that a bridge of 
 them he made, and both broad and long it was; 
 great unrest it brought to all. Above were the 
 skins, below the peasen small;* which made hero 
 Hogen to fall first of all. 
 
 " It was hero Hogen, who would again stand up. 
 'Hold now, dear brother' "(i.e. cried Grimild)", 
 'thou knowest how things go; hold now, all- 
 dearest brother, so fast thou holdest thy troth, 
 that falling first to earth, thou wilt stand up never 
 more.'f 
 
 " So faithful was hero Hogen, he would not break 
 his word; on both his knees he stood, as he re- 
 ceived the death-wound. Yet slew he three cham- 
 pions, who were not of the meanest ; so went he 
 hence to Hammer, to find his father's treasure. 
 
 "Yet was the leech so friendly to him, that he 
 received damsel's favour; proud Huenild it was, 
 with her he begat a son. Ranke was the champion 
 bright; he avenged his father's death; starved 
 
 * In a version of the legend in Danish prose (the chronicle of 
 Huen) this seemingly imperfect passage is explained by a statement 
 that Grimild strewed peas by treachery. 
 
 f There seems to be a passage omitted relating the giving of 
 such a pledge.
 
 THE DANISH BALLADS. 313 
 
 Grimild by Niding's treasure, with hunger-need 
 through want of bread. 
 
 " So went he forth of the land toward Bern in 
 Lombardy; there was he with Danish men, and 
 showed forth his manhood. At home remained 
 his mother, from whom Huen took its name; 
 among knights and among warriors the noise 
 thereof went far abroad." 
 
 In the second of the three poems referred to, 
 evil dreams of Hagen's mother are referred to; 
 Hagen kills the mer-wife, but not the ferryman ; 
 he boasts of having killed king Siegfried with his 
 own hand, and also strong king Ottelin. Here 
 occurs an incident recalling the Nibelungenlied, of 
 his drinking blood out of a helmet. 
 
 The third poem is full of vigour, and but for 
 its many points of contact with the others, might 
 well deserve translation. In it occur, as the names 
 of Hogen's companions besides Folquard, lords 
 "Gynther" and "Gerlof," evidently the German 
 ' Gunther' and ' Gernot,' that of " king Giincelin," 
 as Grimild's champion, and that of "good Obbe 
 Tern," as lending Hogen a "good sword" in the 
 strife. 
 
 It is remarkable, as shewing the tendency of 
 tradition to incorporate fact, that on the small 
 island of Huen (now Swedish territory) appear to
 
 314 CLOSE OF THE NORSE-GERMAN CYCLE: 
 
 have been found the remains of four castles, two of 
 which (Norborg and Hammer) are mentioned in 
 the ballads ; and that the chronicle of the island 
 relates with some variations the same legend. 
 
 In other Danish ballads, which are closer to the 
 Norse than to the German version of the Sigurd- 
 Sifrit legend, that hero is mentioned under the 
 name of Sivard, but instead of perishing by the 
 hand of Hagen or his kinsmen, he is killed by a 
 certain "good lord Nielus," who then hews Bryn- 
 hild in pieces, and afterwards kills himself. 
 
 Other ballads turn upon the Dietrich legend. 
 One describes the fight of Dietrich and a lion with 
 a serpent, and the subsequent attachment of the 
 lion to his deliverer ; this seems borrowed from the 
 ' Heldenbuch' poem of ' Wolfdietrich.' Another 
 singularly fanciful one, supposed to belong to the 
 latter half of the fifteenth century, brings into play 
 a prominent personage of the Carlovingian cycle, 
 Oger the Dane (Olger Danske), in a fight between 
 him and Dietrich, in which the German champion 
 is made to take to flight. 
 
 Lastly, there is a ballad of "The fighting 
 monk," which, although the name of its hero is 
 omitted, is evidently a reminiscence of the prowess 
 of sturdy ' monk Ilsan' of the Rose-garden. The 
 ' fighting,' otherwise called the ' cold-headed monk,'
 
 THE DANISH BALLADS. 315 
 
 conquers twelve champions, then an enchanter, and 
 on his return to the convent stretches three monks 
 in their blood, ' because the brose was not yet on 
 the table,' ' hangs fifteen up in the smoke, because 
 the fish was not yet boiled,' strikes out one of the 
 abbot's eyes, because he made them sit so long, 
 and eventually becomes abbot himself, and rules 
 the convent for thirty years. The piece is one full 
 of vigour and grim humour. 
 
 That the Norse-German cycle is worthy of a 
 distinct and not un-prominent place in the history 
 of the world's literature, few persons, I think, even 
 after the imperfect and superficial survey which 
 I have given of it here, will be inclined to doubt. 
 Viewed merely as a cycle, without reference to any 
 particular poems, it presents us with a group of 
 personages of marked individuality, and consider- 
 ing the long period over which the poems spread, 
 great consistency of character. Proud and re- 
 vengeful Kriemhilt, Rudeger the mild and courtly 
 margrave, Dietrich the noble knight, easy-tem- 
 pered, hard to rouse, but when roused not to be 
 conquered, impetuous, high-tempered Wolfhart, 
 wise old Hildebrant, free-spoken and faithful, 
 full of craft and sly humour, yet never deficient in 
 valour, the gentle lady Helche are distinct and
 
 316 CLOSE OF THE NORSE-GERMAN CYCLE. 
 
 worthy members of that great ideal family which 
 begins (in the West) with Achilles and the sons of 
 Atreus, with Ulysses and Nestor. So too, and 
 prominently, are the Hagen and Volker of the 
 ' Nibelungenlied' ; so is the ' Wate' of the latter 
 half of ' Gudrun' ; so are monk Ilsan of the ' Rose- 
 Garden,' and Alphart, and Ecke; when we once 
 know them, we feel that we have added names to 
 the circle of our poetical acquaintance, which 
 henceforth we should be sorry to have missed 
 from it. It will be remarkable to observe how the 
 other great middle-age cycles in turn will con- 
 tribute new personages to the epic family, whose 
 character may in some respects recal, but will yet 
 remain entirely distinct from, those which the first 
 cycle has hitherto introduced to us.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE LOMBARD SUB-CYCLE : KING ROTHER. 
 
 BEFORE passing on to the Carlovingian cycle pro- 
 per, it seems necessary to say something of a 
 poem decidedly epical in character, belonging only 
 through one of its personages to the Norse-German 
 cycle, and only loosely, and as may easily be 
 judged, at a late period connected with the Car- 
 lovingian, ' King Rother,' a work of which the 
 original authorship is ascribed by Von der Hagen 
 to the former half of the twelfth century, but evi- 
 dently re-written in great measure towards the 
 close. Its connexion with the Carlovingian cycle 
 is simply that the hero is represented (quite un- 
 historically of course) as father to king Pepin. It 
 belongs visibly, not so much to Germany proper 
 as to Germanized Italy, and may be said to repre- 
 sent a Lombard sub-cycle. 
 
 By the Western sea sat a king, lord Rother, in the 
 town of Bar (or Bare), where he lived with great hon-
 
 318 THE LOMBARD SUB-CYCLE: 
 
 our. Two-and-seventy kings served him, he was the 
 most lordly man that ever received the crown in 
 Rome. His young courtiers began to say that he 
 should take him a wife. A count who by his wiles 
 had helped him to come from Rome, the good 
 hero Lupolt (Leopold), tells of a rich king's daugh- 
 ter over the Eastern sea at Constantinople; her 
 father is called Constantine. Fair is she, and 
 shines as the star from heaven; she shines before 
 other women as gold before silk ; well would she 
 suit a king ; but no man has ever sought her yet 
 but has lost his life. Margrave Herman advises 
 to send Lupolt as a messenger to sue for her. 
 Lupolt is willing to go, though at the risk of his 
 life, but begs that eleven other counts be sent with 
 him, all with such goodly garments as they may 
 wear without shame before a king. Many a hero 
 quickly offers himself for the adventure ; the eleven 
 are chosen ; white were all their horses ; never in 
 any land were so many well-made lords; a very 
 crafty man leads them. 
 
 They cross the sea, and ride to Constantine's 
 court in splendid apparel, young count Erwin fore- 
 most. The queen bids king Constantine go and 
 receive them, as she would fain know whence they 
 come; strange is their raiment; he who has sent 
 them must be a stately man. Both king and
 
 KING ROTHER. 319 
 
 queen receive them most graciously; an old lady 
 declares that it must be a wonderful land from 
 whence they come, so full of gems and gold are 
 their garments. Lupolt begs for leave to deliver 
 his message. He comes from a rich king, comeliest 
 man that was ever born of woman ; he goes at- 
 tended by great crowds; swift heroes serve him. 
 Leave being granted to him, he proceeds to say 
 that his lord, king Rother, who sits westward by 
 the sea, desires Constantine's daughter to wife. 
 The king angrily replies that he must long regret 
 having given Lupolt leave to speak. Were he to 
 give his daughter to any man, he might send her 
 to Lupolt's lord ; but wisely has Lupolt done in 
 speaking first about the message, else would he 
 never more have seen the day, for no man has yet 
 sued for his daughter but has lost his head. As 
 it is, they must never more see their lord's realm 
 again. He sends the messengers to prison ; many 
 a day were they there, that they never saw the sun 
 nor "the moon so light"; hunger and need they 
 suffered ; how could they live ? Whilst they weep 
 and bewail themselves to God, the king has the 
 contents of their ships examined ; wonderful wealth 
 is found, which is handed over to the king's cham- 
 berlain to keep. 
 
 It is now a year and a day that they have lain
 
 320 THE LOMBARD SUB-CYCLE: 
 
 in the dungeon, and Rother is very anxious. He 
 sits upon a stone, and for three days and three 
 nights speaks nothing to any one, always thinking 
 how he may go to Greece. He calls to him an old 
 man, his trusted counsellor, count Berter (or Berker) 
 of Meran, and asks advice how to get beyond sea to 
 the city of Constantinople, since he fears that king 
 Constantine has beheaded the messengers. Berter 
 says he had eleven lordly sons; the twelfth was 
 sent forth by Rother beyond seas to fight the 
 heathen; he was killed in God's service, never 
 should he be lamented. But seven of his sons are 
 gone on this journey ; Lupolt and Erwin were the 
 eldest. His advice is to lead forth the host, and 
 slay Hungarians and Greeks ; he himself will go in 
 the van. Rother willingly assents to this advice, 
 and preparations are made for departure, the king, 
 by the advice of his lords, taking abundant trea- 
 sure with him. Messages are sent far and wide 
 through the land, that whoso wishes to become 
 rich, let him come to the court at Rome. A letter 
 is sent "to an unknown land, where was a giant 
 named Asprian, who never came to court ;" but on 
 receiving the news he rises and comes to court 
 with a troop of giants, armed with steel stakes; 
 bright helmets they wear, and snow-white breast- 
 plates, and swords besides their stakes; Berter is 
 delighted at their coming.
 
 KING ROTHER. 321 
 
 The crown and government being entrusted to 
 count Amelgar till the king's return, Rother takes 
 with him twelve dukes, each with two hundred 
 men, and king Asprian with twelve of his men, one 
 of them a fearful giant, who went chained like a 
 lion, and was "one of the boldest men that ever 
 were called mother's bairns ;" when his chains were 
 taken off, no one could offend him without losing 
 his life ; Witolt was " the good hero" called. Lading 
 the ships with immense treasures, Rother embarks 
 with all his host, to go over the broad sea to Con- 
 stantinople. He bethinks himself of " a wisdom," 
 and calling his lords together, tells them that since 
 they go into an unknown land, and it is no child's 
 play, they must protect their body by good cun- 
 ning ; let all, poor and rich, call him Thiderich 
 (generally written Dietrich in the latter part of the 
 poem, which form I shall adopt), that he be not 
 known. This they swear to do. 
 
 On their arrival, the giants begin fighting on 
 the sand. One of the burghers comes hastily to 
 tell the king that a folk is come with such power 
 as never was seen ; were it not that one lies bound, 
 they were all lost. The strangers reach the palace 
 in magnificent apparel, riding on snow-white mules. 
 One of the king's counsellors suspects it may well 
 be the lords of the imprisoned messengers, and 
 
 VOL. I. Y
 
 322 THE LOMBARD SUB-CYCLE : 
 
 that he has been himself the " wayland" of the iron 
 stakes borne by the giants. The Greek dukes 
 and the good queen go to meet the strangers ; she 
 bids them be welcome. Two counts offer to ease 
 Asprian of his stake, but it is so heavy that they 
 cannot lift nor bear it, and they have to leave it 
 on the ground. As king Constantine sits on his 
 throne, the false Dietrich complains to him of king 
 Rother, who has forbidden him his land, offers his 
 services and solicits protection. Constantine takes 
 counsel with his worthiest lords; he is very sorry 
 that the stranger ever came; he has one in his 
 suite who might be a fitting mate for the devil in 
 hell. Still, by their advice, and for fear of worse 
 consequences, he tells Dietrich that he accepts his 
 services, stating moreover that he holds imprisoned 
 in his dungeon Rother's messengers, a piece of 
 news which excites Asprian's anger. 
 
 The strangers are lodged near the gates. Twelve 
 waggons are employed for seven days* in bringing 
 gold and treasure and the other contents of the 
 ships. The giants excite great astonishment. As 
 she looks upon Witolt : " See now, lord Constan- 
 tine," says the queen, " here are they carrying thy 
 master in chains How foolish were we to deny 
 
 * Seven nights in the original, the mode of calculation which 
 has left its mark in our " se'nnight" and " fortnight."
 
 KING ROTHER. 323 
 
 our daughter to Rother, who drove these men over 
 the sea !" Fain would she now give the girl to 
 these, for they are his masters, and he must rather 
 pluck his eye out with his hand than be wroth with 
 such a chief. As they sit down to the feast, a fear- 
 ful lion is brought before the king's table, but 
 because the beast takes some of Asprian's bread, 
 the latter thereupon seizes him with his hand, and 
 flings him against the wall, crushing him to death. 
 The king is grieved ; the queen, rather pleased, 
 takes advantage of the fact to repeat her regret 
 that they should have refused their daughter to 
 Rother, and urges the release of the messengers. 
 Old Berter observes the queen's satisfaction. 
 
 On returning to his quarters, Dietrich begins a 
 course of abundant alms and largess-giving, till 
 six thousand men attach themselves to him, as 
 well as a count named Arnold, who had lost great 
 honour in his own land, and who receives 1000 
 marks, the best quarters in the town, and thirty 
 knights to serve him for a twelvemonth. All Con- 
 stantines men now begin to flock to Dietrich for 
 the sake of his gifts. At his daughter's request, 
 Constantine gives orders for a great festival; but 
 in preparing for it, a quarrel arises between Asprian 
 and a lordly duke named Frederick ; blood is shed, 
 the chained giant Witolt begins "to growl like a
 
 324 THE LOMBARD SUB-CYCLE I 
 
 bear," breaks his chains, and seizing a steel pike 
 twenty-four ells long, begins to do dreadful havoc. 
 The news is brought to the king, who laments over 
 the dishonour that is inflicted on him by Dietrich's 
 men. The queen bids him hold his peace, and re- 
 turns to her old regrets that they had not given 
 their daughter to Rother, who would have sent him 
 defenders. 
 
 The king's daughter comes forth, fairest of 
 women that ever adorned their body with a golden 
 crown ; a hundred praiseworthy maidens follow 
 her. Dietrich comes forth too in splendid array, 
 shirt of silk, and coronet of gold stuck with 
 precious stones. Three days the festival lasts ; on 
 the third great largess is given to minstrels and 
 wandering folk ; Dietrich wins over more hearts 
 by his liberality. The young princess longs that 
 he should come to her rooms. Herlint, her chief 
 attendant, offers herself for the message. Dietrich 
 receives her with full courtesy, though declining 
 through humility to go to her mistress ; but he re- 
 wards her with rich gifts, including a shoe of gold 
 and one of silver, both fitting the same foot. The 
 young queen on learning the result of her message 
 laments that the hero will not see her, and asks 
 Herlint to give her the shoes, offering to fill them 
 with gold. After putting on the gold one, finding
 
 KING ROTHER. 325 
 
 that the silver shoe does not fit, she sends Herlint 
 back to ask the other, and that he will come and 
 see her. Lifting her dress to the knee, Herlint 
 runs across the palace to Dietrich, who knows 
 well her errand beforehand. She returns after 
 delivering her message ; he soon follows her, while 
 Asprian with his giants succeeds in diverting 
 everybody's attention from him, as with two com- 
 panions he proceeds to the lady's rooms. 
 
 The young queen was standing at the window 
 when Dietrich came. She receives him courteously, 
 and begs him to put on the shoes. He sits down 
 at her feet ; she places her foot on his leg. Cun- 
 ningly he asks her, since she has been sued for by 
 many a man, who of all has pleased her best ? 
 She replies that no mother has ever had a worthier 
 bairn than himself; but could she have her choice, 
 she would take the hero whose messengers are 
 lying in her father's dungeon, king Rother, other- 
 wise must she ever go a maid. If she will love 
 Rother, he answers, he will soon bring him to her. 
 Then Rother, she retorts, cannot have driven 
 him out, but he must be a messenger from the 
 king. " Now leave I everything of mine to God's 
 grace and thine own ; thy feet are on Rother's 
 lap." Startled, she withdraws her feet ; her pride, 
 she says, has taken her in, that she should have
 
 326 THE LOMBARD SUB-CYCLE: 
 
 placed her feet in his lap. If he be king Rother, 
 he could not be more worthy than he is, and if 
 God has sent him, right glad is she ; but she can- 
 not make sure that he is telling her the truth ; else 
 is there no man so comely whom she would rather 
 take, if he be king Rother. Craftily he replies, by 
 asking to see the prisoners, who will be able to 
 assure her of the truth. She objects that her father 
 will never hand them over to any man who will 
 not undertake on his life for their return to prison. 
 This Dietrich pledges ; the lady kisses him, and he 
 departs. 
 
 After much thinking over night, when the day 
 comes the lady dresses herself in black, and with 
 staff in hand and palm on shoulder, as if she were 
 going to leave the country, she goes to her father's 
 room, and under colour of an evil dream that she 
 had had, of having to go down alive into the pit, 
 she obtains permission to take out the prisoners 
 for three days, but only on condition that some 
 one shall pledge himself on his life for their safe 
 return to prison. On the king's going to table in 
 the evening, she goes round hotly weeping, asking 
 the guests to be pledges for the prisoners, but none 
 dare do so, till she comes to Dietrich, whom she 
 implores most beseechingly ; he of course under- 
 takes the warranty, as agreed between them.
 
 KING ROTHER. 327 
 
 They go to the prison ; daylight shines into it, 
 to which the captives were no more accustomed. 
 Erwin was the first who came out ; sore was the 
 grief of his father ; he turned him round and wrung 
 his hands, but durst not weep ; never had he such 
 pain since his mother bare him. Black and filthy 
 were the worthy knights, in rags like poor men. 
 Dietrich, restraining himself from tears, bids them 
 be taken to his hostelry. ' Lupolt, dear lord/ says 
 Erwin, ' seest thou stand there a grey man with the 
 fair beard ? he gazed on me, he turned him round, 
 he rung his hands, he durst not weep. Surely it 
 must be a sign from the good God that we shall 
 get from hence.' ' It may well be our father,' 
 answered Lupolt. "Then laughed they both for 
 joy and sorrow." 
 
 They were left "hand-fast" till the next day, 
 when the young princess won leave from her father 
 to go and serve them. She hastens to Dietrich ; 
 goodly garments of his are put upon the captives ; 
 Berter is cup-bearer whilst his children eat. As 
 they sate, their sorrow partly forgotten, Dietrich 
 took a harp, and began sounding a lay. He that 
 drank, his hand fell and he spilt the liquor on the 
 table ; he that cut bread, his knife fell from his 
 grasp ; they were witless for comfort. They sate 
 all and heard till Lupolt sprang over the table
 
 328 THE LOMBARD SUB-CYCLE: 
 
 with Erwin, and welcomed and kissed the rich 
 harper. Rightly now saw the lady that this was 
 king Rother. After having been three days abroad, 
 the messengers went back to their prison, into 
 which meanwhile had been carried much bed- 
 clothes and other good stuff, and where they were 
 well fed during twenty days, whilst a covered pas- 
 sage was dug between their prison and Dietrich's 
 hostelry, to enable them to go out, so that their 
 bodies began to gain strength. 
 
 But now there came against king Constantine 
 the greatest host that ever was seen ; two-and- 
 seventy kings of Babylon under a fearful heathen 
 named Ymelot, whom nought could withstand ; 
 over all the unchristian land was his command 
 obeyed ; he wished to be God himself. News is 
 brought to king Constantine that they are coming, 
 full 100,000 strong. Dietrich solicits the release 
 of the prisoners ; had they horse and armour, there 
 is many a hero among them ; he offers himself to 
 go against the enemy. Constantine sends far and 
 wide through the land to summon his men, of 
 whom 50,000 come to Constantinople; the twelve 
 knights are brought out of prison and taken into 
 Dietrich's corps, all on snow-white horses ; his 
 banner brings 20,000 worthy men together. They 
 set out to meet the foe ; a se'nnight they ride
 
 KING ROTHER. 329 
 
 before they reach the two-and-seventy kings of 
 "waste" Babylon. Dietrich encamps in the fore- 
 part of the host, and is the first to attack the 
 enemy overnight. Witolt is unchained ; Asprian 
 presses on to Ymelot's tent, who, when he sees 
 the giant's pike, says nothing, and allows himself 
 to be taken prisoner. The heathen flee on all sides 
 before the giants ; " grim death hunted them." 
 Witolt is now caught and chained up again ; Diet- 
 rich returns to his quarters as if nothing had hap- 
 pened. 
 
 The watcher, hearing apparently the noise of 
 Dietrich's men returning, wakes up the king, " Up, 
 lord Constantine, I hear thy foes ; with great 
 clamour methinks they come hither." Constantine 
 and his chiefs arm in haste ; many a one casts re- 
 proach on Dietrich who does nothing ; surely the 
 king is betrayed by him. Constantine himself goes 
 to waken him up. He is answered by Ymelot : 
 " Lord, you mock without need ; this night at 
 midnight, as I lay in my bed, there came a frightful 
 man and took me away under his arms ; my men 
 are all slain, they cannot hurt thee." Constantine 
 now goes into Dietrich's tent, and taking him by 
 the hand, thanks him for his good service. At 
 daybreak Dietrich himself brings Ymelot by the 
 hand into the king's tent. He cunningly suggests
 
 330 THE LOMBARD SUB-CYCLE: 
 
 that a messenger will be needed to tell the ladies 
 of the good news. Constantine bids him bear the 
 tidings himself. Taking with him only his own 
 men, who came with him over the seas, and send- 
 ing the rest of his folk to the king's banners, he 
 starts for Constantinople. 
 
 Weeping the queen received him. Where, she 
 asks, are the king and his knights ? " Dietrich, 
 dear lord, shall we ever see them more ?" Nay, 
 replies Dietrich, Ymelot has slain them and rides 
 hither in great might ; I dare not trust to maintain 
 myself, I must flee over seas ; women and children, 
 all who remain in the fortress, will be slain by 
 Ymelot Both the queen and her daughter entreat 
 Dietrich to take them away. He bids them go 
 toward the ships; many a fair lady, weeping and 
 wringing her hands, comes with them ; all would 
 fain go beyond seas to save their lives from 
 Ymelot. Dietrich bids his men embark in haste, 
 he takes on board the daughter, leaves the mo- 
 ther on the strand, who with tears inquires his 
 motive for so doing, and beseeches him to take her 
 with her daughter. The "crafty man" now tells 
 her that Constantine is not dead, that Ymelot is 
 taken, that the king and his men are riding home- 
 wards, and will be here in three days, and that she 
 may tell him that his daughter has gone with
 
 KING ROTHER. 331 
 
 Rother, "westward over the sea." The queen is 
 delighted ; she tells him that had she had her will, 
 the damsel had been given to him in gentler 
 fashion ; may St. Giles preserve him ! " Fare you 
 well, mother mine," replies the princess. The ladies 
 return laughing to the palace, wishing Rother a 
 happy return to his home. On arriving in his 
 kingdom indeed Rother found it in a state of strife 
 owing to his absence, so that his "way-weary" 
 knights could have but little rest. 
 
 Meanwhile Constantine had returned to his 
 court. Hastily he inquired for his daughter, since 
 he did not see her. The queen tells him that the 
 worthy knight Dietrich was king Rother, and that 
 he has borne their daughter beyond seas ; how 
 could she be better wed ? Constantine is bitterly 
 grieved, and swoons away. Hereupon Ymelot 
 manages to escape in a ship, and returns to " waste 
 Babylon," so that on coming to himself he hears 
 the cry from old and young, " Ymelot is escaped." 
 However being " mild of gold" (i. e. liberal) he pro- 
 ceeds to distribute rich rewards to his men. Out 
 of the crowd there speaks a minstrel, offering to 
 bring back the king's daughter if he be provided 
 with a ship and store of merchant's wares, " gold 
 and stones, white small pearls, scarlet and peltries," 
 and sixty worthy knights to lie concealed. Con-
 
 332 THE LOMBARD SUB-CYCLE: 
 
 stantine bids him take what he will out of the royal 
 treasures. A ship is laded, and makes sail for 
 ' Bare' over the sea, whilst king Rother is away at 
 the war, leaving Lupolt in charge of the city. 
 
 On the arrival of the Greeks, the cunning min- 
 strel begins selling his wares at fabulously low 
 prices ; " there was nothing so dear, that he gave 
 it not for a penny ;" the burgesses deem him mad. 
 He gives out moreover that a stone he has is of 
 such virtue that, if a queen took it in her hand, 
 it would give light over all the land, and no one 
 should die, for if before burial he should be stroked 
 with it, he would revive, whilst the halt and the 
 crooked, if touched by the stone with the queen, 
 would become sound again, only she must come 
 on board the ship. He is willing to be hanged if 
 he tell not the truth. A knight, who has two little 
 deformed children, goes and entreats the queen to 
 make the trial, which, in Lupolt's absence, v she 
 consents to. But the instant she is on board, the 
 minstrel bids the sailors heave off. They make 
 sail, leaving many a cripple waiting on the strand, 
 and the minstrel in answer to the queen tells her 
 it is her father Constantine who has sent them. 
 " Wo is me," she exclaims, " King Rother ! how 
 thou wilt now begin to grieve thy life for me, as 
 I pine for thee !"
 
 KING ROTHER. 333 
 
 There is great rejoicing on her arrival at Con- 
 stantinople, on the part of all except her mother. 
 The king hugs and kisses his daughter, but will 
 not listen to her complaints, and bids her hold 
 her peace. Meanwhile all 'Bare' is in commotion 
 for the loss of the lady ; Lupolt does his best to 
 comfort the people. On the seventh day Rother 
 arrives, and is met by Lupolt with the evil tidings. 
 "I alone," says the knight, "am guilty against 
 thee ; thou shalt judge concerning me what is fair 
 and right." But before all the assembled lords 
 Rother takes Lupolt by the hand and kisses him 
 on the mouth : " Why grievest thou thy life, my 
 nephew ? there lives many a fair wife. ... if thou 
 fearest my wrath, then were all thy service ill lost, 
 that thou hast richly done to me . . . were I ever 
 wroth with thee, I should do as Judas, who lost 
 himself." . . The duke of Meran comes forward 
 and thanks the king for his conduct. They must 
 go in strength beyond seas : " My beard is never 
 so grey that I stay here at home." The lords vie 
 with each other in pledges of service and succour 
 for the expedition ; the old duke of Meran makes 
 light of death, if he can give a stroke of his sword 
 to king Constantine, for still he feels pricked by 
 the old pain of his having so martyred Lupolt. 
 
 At the set time the host assembles ; thirty
 
 334 THE LOMBARD SUB-CYCLE: 
 
 thousand men make sail, and twenty-two ships ; in 
 six weeks they reach Constantinople, and disem- 
 bark unperceived at a woody point a mile below 
 the city. Rother announces that he will go alone 
 to Constantine in the garb of a pilgrim. Young 
 Wolfrat of Tengelingen advises him to take with 
 him Berter of Meran and Lupolt, and offers him 
 his good horn, which shall give them intimation 
 that he is discovered. If we hear it, says Asprian, 
 the fort is lost. 
 
 The three depart, Rother foremost. Outside of 
 the wood, he meets a good knight on horseback, 
 who greets and questions him. " I am a poor 
 man," replies Rother, " I must wander for my 
 food ; now tell me, my dear lord, I am a poor 
 pilgrim, and journey through the realm full sadly ; 
 the needy man must mostly go to court ; there are 
 they fain to ask news of the pilgrim ; tell me some 
 now for God's sake, well shall it be rewarded thee." 
 The knight tells him a wondrous tale : There was 
 at Constantinople a rich lord of great honour, libe- 
 ral of his gold, whose court stood open to poor and 
 rich, who found father and mother in him ; he who 
 asked of him a thousand pounds, he gave him rings 
 to boot ; no tongue could tell his virtues. Such 
 knights he had, as never another man under heaven. 
 He helped Constantine in his great need, and took
 
 KING ROTHER. 335 
 
 Ymelot, a frightful heathen ; but his service was 
 for a fair lady who dwelt in the fortress ; she ran 
 away with him from her father. This was king 
 Rother; and "now learn, good pilgrim, how he 
 was rewarded." The heathen man escaped; king 
 Constantine sent messengers for his daughter, who 
 stole her from king Rother and brought her back 
 again over the sea. And hither to the Greeks' land 
 rode king Ymelot, leading many a good hero, and 
 put all to fire and sword, and took Constantine, who 
 only obtained relief by giving Rother's wife to the 
 frightful king of " waste Babylon ; his son shall 
 take her this night, as thou thyself mayest see." 
 At Constantinople, with many warriors, are thirty 
 kings of "waste Babylon"; Rother's wife stands 
 and grieves her worthy life. Might but Christ send 
 Asprian before the day ! Amen, say the pilgrims. 
 Going into the city, they find Constantine at 
 table, with a king named Basilistriun (or Balis- 
 triun), son of Ymelot ; by him sate Rother's wife, 
 and grieved her life. Whilst Rother and his men 
 succeed amid the crowd in creeping under the table, 
 Constantine tells his daughter that he has dreamed 
 of a falcon, coming flying from Rome, that carried 
 her again beyond seas. Were Rother to come, 
 says the heathen, he should be drowned in the sea. 
 The queen is grieved ; but Rother, sitting on her
 
 336 THE LOMBARD SUB-CYCLE: 
 
 footstool, gives her a gold ring lettered with his 
 name. The lady reads it and laughs, and tells her 
 mother that the king of Bare is come. Constantine 
 sees her laugh : "Well to thee, dear daughter mine, 
 now does thy father rejoice." "That I was ever 
 wroth against thee," she replies, " much it grieves 
 me ; I will do it never more." " Lady," says 
 Ymelot, " you lie needlessly ; I ween your laugh- 
 ing makes for us hearts' woe and wringing of 
 hands. . . .there are in this hall spies of the king 
 of Bare." . . . " I saw," says Balistriun, " a good 
 ring, which thy daughter, Constantine, gave to the 
 old queen ; Rother is in here, the king of Bare ; 
 how he came hither thou must be well aware." 
 " I will bid twelve of my men," said king Con- 
 stantine, " stand before the door of the hall, that 
 they may know well whom we have in here." 
 Rother and his knights, " in honour of the heavenly 
 king and all his host," come forth from under the 
 table. " I am surely here," says Rother, " look on 
 me who will." Balistriun threatens to drown him ; 
 " 111 shall he die," says Constantine. Rother cun- 
 ningly asks only to be hanged on yonder hill 
 before the wood. Rother is bound, to the bitter 
 grief of the young queen ; all, men and women, 
 bewail his fate. Count Arnold, whom he had 
 formerly guerdoned, assembles his knights and
 
 KING ROTHER. 337 
 
 others, and urges the duty of liberating Rother. 
 Five thousand are willing to risk their lives for the 
 undertaking. 
 
 The thirty kings of " waste Babylon" go forth 
 from Constantinople, led by king Balistriun, to 
 hang Rother, full sixty thousand men with them. 
 As the cry rises, ' Hoist him up on the gallows/ 
 Count Arnold addresses his men : Two guerdons 
 have they ; one, " the fair realm of heaven," since 
 whoso lies here dead, his soul shall be delivered 
 into the blessed life ; " what better could be given 
 him ?" the other, to save the true man, who shall 
 lead them into his land to dwell there with him. 
 They strike with such strokes as to drive away the 
 heathen from the gallows. As Arnold comes up 
 with Rother, the latter begs him to cut asunder 
 his bands, that he may blow his horn, and summon 
 Asprian. Loud sounds the horn ; " My lord is 
 bested," cries Asprian, "up, hero Wolfrat." Out 
 they burst from the wood, their hauberks clanging 
 as they spring. Rother bids them spare Arnold 
 and his men. The giants rush on all sides; As- 
 prian kills all that he comes across ; Witolt never 
 speaks till he breaks his pike, when he draws a 
 fearful weapon. Blood flows from the wounded ; 
 "If any should cry O, Witolt ran oh him and 
 trode him on the mouth, so that he never should be 
 
 VOL. i. z
 
 338 THE LOMBARD SUB-CYCLE. 
 
 sound." A minstrel who barely escapes from him 
 goes and tells the king of his prowess, and of the 
 approach of the knights from Rome. 
 
 These meanwhile are deliberating what to do 
 after recovering the young queen. Witolt has 
 threatened to destroy the fort of Constantinople. 
 Asprian says that it should be spared, as containing 
 the graves of the twelve apostles, and of St. Helena 
 Constantine's mother, who found the cross. Witolt, 
 who " feared the Saviour," is overwhelmed with 
 sorrow at his proposal. Woe is him that he ever 
 was born ! the devil surely counselled him, poor 
 fool, to destroy the fort. All the giants throw 
 their pikes away; "for the everlasting God who 
 gave them life they let Constantinople stand." 
 Berter commends Rother for his clemency so far, 
 and advises him moreover to spare Constantine 
 and content himself with taking back his wife. 
 "Since my father died," replies Rother, "and I 
 was entrusted to thee, thy will was evermore to 
 my honour; thou barest me night and day that 
 I should not come to harm, and thou showedst me 
 as to thy child what were christianlike things, and 
 taughtest me how to treat good servants according 
 to their rights; now God the good through His 
 mercy let thee enjoy all truth ; ever shall it grieve 
 me that I overlive thee." . . .
 
 KING ROTHER. 339 
 
 Constantino on the other hand, terrified at his 
 fate, bewails himself to the queen over his " great 
 childishness" in carrying away Rother's wife. He 
 bids her take their fair daughter and lead her to 
 the hero, and beg mercy for himself. " Why fearest 
 thou, Constantine ?" retorts the queen ; "the kings 
 of waste Babylon are thy helpers" . . ., and proceeds 
 to lecture him on his pride. The king finally goes 
 himself, without any of his men, but with his 
 daughter in her most gorgeous array, his queen, 
 and eighty fair ladies with golden crowns. As 
 they reached Rother's camp, Rother's wife shone 
 before all the other women like a burning jacynth. 
 Erwin advises his master to receive his father-in- 
 law courteously, and that no one do him a scorn. 
 Asprian would fain give him one blow first. Nay, 
 lord Asprian, says Berter ; now that he has come 
 among the ladies, had he taken the life of all thy 
 children, we should honour this lady in the king's 
 person. Lupolt and Erwin receive the queens ; 
 " Rother kissed his wife, she was to him as the life, 
 he kissed also the old queen and bade her be wel- 
 come." Wolfrat took Constantine by the hand ; 
 only Witolt, when he saw it, began to laugh and 
 bite his pike, and to cast frightful looks at the 
 king. The queen bids the king take notice that 
 but for Rother's honour he would never again see
 
 340 THE LOMBARD SUB-CYCLE. 
 
 his people nor his land. She presents her daughter 
 to Rother, and compliments Berter; Constantine 
 bids Arnold stand forward, and rewards him by 
 making him king of Greece. All now return, and 
 on the very day that Rother and his men reach 
 Bare, the queen is delivered of a son, who is called 
 Pepin; he afterwards married Bertha, who bare 
 Karl (Charlemagne). Finally, Rother rewards his 
 men by rich distributions of lands. To the giants 
 in common he gives Scotland ; to Asprian Rheims, 
 Spain to Erwin, Austria, Bohemia, and Poland to 
 Wolfrat, to Lupolt Berter's government, Apulia 
 and Sicily, &c. After four-and-twenty years, Pepin 
 wishes to be armed knight. Great are the festivi- 
 ties at Aix-la-chapelle ; all Rother's former vassals 
 make their appearance with numerous followers. 
 Pepin has already girt his sword, when there rides 
 to the place a "snow-white" chief, two thousand 
 men after him. It is Berter ; he bids Rother follow 
 him and help his " poor soul" by becoming a hermit 
 in the woods. The queen deems the advice good. 
 " Then spoke the" . . . and so the poem breaks off, 
 in the middle of a line, between article and sub- 
 stantive. 
 
 ' King Rother,' it will be seen, has but little 
 tragic interest. The captivity of Rother's messen- 
 gers, the leading out of Rother himself to be hung,
 
 KING ROTHER. 341 
 
 offer the nearest approach to such ; but everywhere 
 the poet gives intimations, which I have not thought 
 necessary to insert, that the sufferers will get through 
 their trials safely. Yet the poem has a certain 
 clumsy, almost childish originality of its own. It 
 seems to have been written by some garrulous old 
 priest, very averse to bloodshed, a great admirer 
 of small cunning, and especially fond of the display 
 of outward wealth, so that he is always ready to 
 stop at any moment of his narrative to describe 
 clothes and jewelry. The mildness of Rother's 
 character is somewhat happily hit off, and the 
 merciless wisdom of the old queen, inexorably 
 ' improving' every trial for Constantine's benefit, is 
 cruelly true to every-day experience. 
 
 Von der Hagen points out some analogies 
 between 'Rother' and the poems later in date of 
 the Nibelungen-cycle, such as 'Otnit' and 'Wolf- 
 dietrich', as well as with the Norse ' Vilkina Saga' 
 of the thirteenth century. The giant ' Asprian', it 
 will be remembered, figures in the ' Rose-garden', 
 though playing there a much less distinguished 
 part. The legend itself seems to me to have been 
 originally Lombard, not only through the name of 
 its hero Rother (Rotharis in the history of the 
 Lombard kingdom), but through that of his cap- 
 ital, ' Bar' or ' Bare', which I should identify with
 
 342 THE LOMBARD SUB-CYCLE. 
 
 " Bari" in Southern Italy (though Von der Hagen 
 does not appear to do so), and through the rela- 
 tions which are shown with the Greek empire 
 and Constantinople. The attempted connexion of 
 the hero with the Carlovingians, and frequent re- 
 ferences to France, especially towards the end, 
 seem to me to belong, not to the origin of the 
 legend, but to a later elaboration of it. The spell- 
 ing of several of the names, it should be observed, 
 varies in the latter part (Berker' for 'Berter', &c., 
 &c). 
 
 A somewhat noteworthy feature of "King Rother" 
 lies in the exhibition of friendly and Christian 
 giants as the allies of the hero. The chained 
 Witolt's bonhommie towards Asprian his immediate 
 chief and Rother his sovereign is exemplary, and 
 his contrition at having ever thought of destroying 
 a city which contained the tombs of the apostles, 
 not long after he has been represented as treading 
 on the mouth of any wounded enemy who should 
 cry O, is peculiarly edifying.
 
 PART III. 
 
 THE FRENCH OR CARLOVINGIAN CYCLE.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE FRENCH CHANSONS DE GESTE. 
 
 I SUPPOSE there are few instances in the history of 
 the world of two poetical cycles, extending over 
 areas immediately adjoining to each other, and 
 almost synchronous in their development, yet inter-, 
 penetrating each other so little as the Norse-Ger- 
 man and the Carlovingian cycles ; thus presenting 
 a strong contrast to the Arthurian cycle, which so 
 frequently blends itself with the Carlovingian. The 
 "Weland" of Norse tradition our "Wayland 
 Smith" figures indeed as " Galand" in several of 
 the French poems; but he is no actual personage 
 in either epic-cycle. Dwarf Albrich or Elbrich 
 again, transformed into "Auberon" our "Oberon" 
 comes equally before us in " Huo of Bordeaux" 
 (a poem curious indeed in connexion with this par- 
 ticular legend, but which I have not deemed it 
 necessary specially to notice, as not really bearing 
 on the main development of the cycle) ; but Al-
 
 346 THE FRENCH CHANSONS DE GESTE. 
 
 brich-Auberon is still but a side-figure in either 
 group of epic personages. Traces however have 
 been discovered of the Norse-German epic cycle 
 proper in Western romance. In the Auchinleck 
 MS. Grimm has pointed out a reference to Wit- 
 tich's famous sword Mimung ; whilst a fragment in 
 French Alexandrines of the Harleian collection 
 speaks of Hildebrand and of Herebrand.* Per- 
 haps however the most vivid idea of the relation 
 between the two is given in a tradition preserved 
 by an Icelandic chronicler, how the Emperor 
 Charlemain once wished to see the old renowned 
 champions of the North ; how Earl Widforull 
 called them forth, and they appeared in four di- 
 visions, mounted on their war-steeds, clad in full 
 armour ; how, when Dietrich came before the Em- 
 peror, they sprang from their chargers and seated 
 themselves in his presence ; how Dietrich was 
 known by his towering stature, and by the crowned 
 lion on his shield. For in truth, beside the great 
 historic Emperor of the West, the Norse-German 
 heroes are but shadowy forms of greatness, 
 dwellers in the nether darkness, not creatures of 
 the sunlight ; yet are they not unconscious of their 
 own worth, and though they may come forth in 
 deference to that imperial will, yet will they not 
 
 * 'Quarterly Review,' vol. xiii. p. 396.
 
 THE FRENCH CHANSONS DE GESTE. 347 
 
 bow to the imperial presence, but sit as equals 
 beside the later conqueror. 
 
 In dealing with the French cycle then, what 
 has been said of the Norse-German one will only 
 be of avail to us by way of artistic comparison. 
 We enter upon a new realm of poetry, in which all 
 stands as clear and sharp-cut as much was dim 
 and hazy in the former one ; a realm emphatically 
 of noonday sunshine, as compared with the twilight 
 of the Edda, or the thick gloom of the ' Nibelun- 
 genlied.' 
 
 Those amongst us who know something of the 
 French language and its literature, and who judge 
 of it, as Frenchmen themselves do, mainly by the 
 productions of the seventeenth and eighteenth 
 centuries, would probably agree very much in the 
 following conclusions : As an instrument of the 
 intellect proper, French has admirable qualities. 
 It is simple mostly in construction, clear, subtle, 
 delicate at once and forcible ; its prose is perhaps 
 the type-prose of modern times. But the language 
 has (to use one of its own idioms) 'the defects of 
 its qualities' ; it is essentially unpoetical ; its verse 
 has no rhythm to any ear but a French one ; its 
 so-called poems, whether so-called epics like the 
 Henriade, or so-called odes like those of J. B. 
 Rousseau, have little or nothing in common with
 
 348 THE FRENCH CHANSONS DE GESTE. 
 
 what other nations are used to deem poetry, and 
 are generally intolerable to them ; its classic stage 
 at least is hampered by those dreary fetters of the 
 " unities," which at one time had well-nigh brought 
 our own to wrack and ruin. 
 
 Such, I believe, would be the judgment of 
 nineteen out of every twenty readers of French, 
 without reckoning those who know French litera- 
 ture only through translations or by hearsay. 
 Those who have gone a little deeper into the 
 matter have mostly stopped at the sixteenth cen- 
 tury, or at most have reached the fourteenth in the 
 pages of Froissart Here they have been initiated 
 into a very different French literature from that of 
 the "great century" of Louis XIV., far freer and 
 bolder ; yet in the sixteenth century mostly over- 
 laid with Latin words and Latin erudition ; every- 
 where still, except in some of the works of the 
 sixteenth century, which mostly exhibit its pre- 
 valent parade of classical lore in the most pro- 
 minent manner, a literature of prose. 
 
 Now it will astonish such persons greatly to be 
 told that behind not only the seventeenth and 
 sixteenth, but the fourteenth century even, there 
 lies in the French language a whole literature of 
 the truest and freshest poetry, both epical and 
 lyrical ; a body of epic poems in particular, which
 
 THE FRENCH CHANSONS DE GESTE. 349 
 
 although they may be individually surpassed by 
 the grand German Nibelungenlied, yet as a group 
 stand perfectly matchless in European literature, 
 and claim to rank not only in the same category 
 with, but in one or two instances not very far 
 from, old Greek masterpieces. Ranging from the 
 eleventh century to the thirteenth, these poems 
 deal primarily with national subjects, belonging, 
 as I have said, mostly to the great heroic era of 
 France, that of the early Carlovingians. They are 
 not however, I repeat it, of that age by any means, 
 but belong in their subjects mainly to the Mero- 
 vingian age, in their actual form to the first blos- 
 soming of the feudal system, which rose upon the 
 very ruins of the Carlovingian monarchy ; a period 
 which, amid all its brutalities, I believe to have 
 been one of the most wonderful development of 
 local life and energy. 
 
 The variety of text in the different MSS. of 
 these French epics, "Songs of deeds" (chansons 
 de geste) as they are characteristically called, is at 
 least as great as in those of the Norse-German 
 school. But they are still more marked, as inti- 
 mated ere this, by incessant repetitions, with slight 
 modifications of detail. One of the editors of the 
 " Chanson de Roland," M. Genin, insists very 
 strongly that such repetitions are " a form of pri-
 
 3 SO THE FRENCH CHANSONS DE GESTE. 
 
 mitive art," born from the needs of middle-age 
 minstrelsy, which required that the story should be 
 taken up at different points of its development. 
 Something, no doubt, may be due to this. But it 
 seems to me much more probable that these re- 
 petitions represent generally different versions, the 
 result of modifications of the theme, either wilful, 
 by minstrels who thought it could be improved 
 upon, or who felt compelled by local circumstances, 
 or took advantage of such, to vary it, or acciden- 
 tal, where their defective memory compelled them 
 to fill up a void out of their own heads. Great 
 facility, it should be observed, was offered for 
 such variations by the extreme simplicity of the 
 original French epic metre, consisting simply of 
 long pieces on a single rhyme, itself only in fact 
 an assonance, or uniformity of vowel in the last syl- 
 lable ; a metre indeed which in the earlier works 
 commends itself still further to the sympathies of 
 other nations as being the ordinary pentameter 
 heroic of modern Europe, only with an unvarying 
 c<zsura after the second foot. When the poem was 
 eventually committed to writing, it became no 
 doubt an advantage to the minstrel to possess at 
 once the main text, if I may so call it, and its 
 ' various readings' ; only instead of putting these in 
 foot-notes, as is our habit, the copyist inserted them
 
 THE FRENCH CHANSONS DE GESTE. 351 
 
 in the body of the work. By so doing indeed, 
 accident, if I may so speak, proved perhaps some- 
 times a better poet than the original one ; the 
 same incident, repeated in a different form, gained 
 in effect. Wherever this has seemed to me to be 
 the case, I have in the following pages, without 
 scruple, preserved the repetition. It need scarcely 
 be pointed out that, the more popular a poem was, 
 and above all, the longer its popularity lasted, the 
 more various texts of it would be found, and the 
 more repetitions in the same text.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE GROWTH OF CARLOVINGIAN LEGEND. 
 
 THE French school of popular epic differs greatly 
 from the Norse-German in this, that it is in its 
 essence historically Christian. Nothing is more per- 
 ceptible in the Nibelungenlied, than that we have 
 before us a Pagan groundwork, with just a little 
 Christianity worked in. In the earliest of the 
 French poems, on the contrary, the Christianity of 
 the day, such as it was, forms evidently part of the 
 very tissue of the story. Of the three great cycles 
 again, the French is especially remarkable, inas- 
 much as it has its ground in real, acknowledged 
 history. Prize essays may be written till Dooms- 
 day to prove that Sigurd or Arthur did or did not 
 exist No man out of Bedlam doubts that Charle- 
 magne did. Yet undoubtedly the Charlemain of 
 romance, though he may have features in common 
 with the Charlemagne of history, is a very different 
 personage from him. We look in vain through
 
 THE GROWTH OF CARLOVINGIAN LEGEND. 353 
 
 Eginhard's pages for the twelve peers ; for the 
 prowess of Roland and Oliver and Turpin, the 
 treachery of Ganilo, the wisdom of Naymes of 
 Bavaria. Could we trace to their origin all these 
 personages in and through their various develop- 
 ments, we should know really by experience what 
 I have endeavoured elsewhere* to shadow forth 
 hypothetically, how legend grows. 
 
 The first flash of light was indeed cast upon this 
 subject by M. Paulin Paris, when he pointed out 
 that in the history of Dagobert I. we find mention 
 of a great battle fought in the Pyrenees, in which 
 twelve Prankish chiefs were killed ; and suggested 
 that this was the traditional Roncevaux, these the 
 twelve peers of Charlemain. The conclusion seems 
 irresistible ; and we may thus see how a favourite 
 hero gathers up into himself the fame of many 
 a traditional exploit whose true author's name has 
 faded away. A French Grimm, who should put 
 together a French " Heldensage," would no doubt 
 be able to do much towards clearing up these 
 "origins" of the Carlovingian epic. 
 
 We cannot indeed be surprised that French 
 legend should have fastened upon the personage 
 of Charlemagne. It is difficult, even for a gene- 
 ration which has listened to the last echoes of the 
 
 * See Part I. chap. I. 
 VOL. I. A A
 
 354 THE GROWTH OF CARLO VINGIAN LEGEND. 
 
 exploits of another Charlemagne, Napoleon the 
 First, to read without wonder the bare enumera- 
 tion of the achievements of the great Emperor of the 
 West; how, by him or by his lieutenants, the Prank- 
 ish sway was carried to the Weser, the Elbe and 
 the Oder, the Danube, the Raab and the Theiss, 
 the Adige and the Po, the Ebro ; how the ' Her- 
 mansaiile' was thrown down in German forests, and 
 the ' Hring' of the Avars broken into in distant 
 Hungary ; how the Pope crowned him, and the 
 Emirs of Spain became his vassals, and the distant 
 Khalifs assured him of their friendship. Accord- 
 ingly, seventy years after his death, as was observed 
 by Chateaubriand in his ' Etudes Historiques', and 
 was again pointed out by M. J. J. Ampere, in his 
 interesting ' Histoire Litteraire de la France avant 
 le I2e siecle', we already find his memory assuming 
 a legendary character in the pages of the Monk 
 of St. Gall. M. Ampere quotes to this effect, and 
 with reason, that striking passage which describes 
 Charlemagne's appearance in Lombardy, when king 
 Desiderius is looking out for him, and the air 
 darkens at his approach : 
 
 "Then was seen Iron Charles himself, crested 
 with an iron helmet, armleted with iron bracelets, 
 an iron hauberk sheltering his iron chest and broad 
 shoulders, his iron spear lifted upright filling his
 
 THE GROWTH OF CARLO VINGIAN LEGEND. 355 
 
 left hand ; for his right was always stretched to his 
 unconquered sword ; the outside of his thighs, 
 which for greater ease of mounting in others are 
 usually bare of mail, in him was surrounded with 
 iron plates. What need I speak of his leggings ? 
 which with the whole army were wont to be used 
 always of iron. In his shield nothing appeared 
 but iron; his horse also in spirit and colour had 
 the gleam of iron. And this fashion all who went 
 before, all who surrounded him on both sides, all 
 who followed, and the whole common discipline, 
 imitated as far as possible. Iron filled the plains 
 and the streets ; the sun's rays were cast back by 
 
 the sharpness of iron ' O iron !' ' Iron alas !' so 
 
 sounded the confused clamour of the citizens. 
 Iron made the firm walls to tremble. . . . Seeing 
 therefore with quickest glance these things (which 
 I, stammering and toothless, have attempted, as 
 I ought not to have done, to explain lengthily and 
 by a slow circuit), Otker the true watchman said to 
 Desiderius : ' Behold him whom thou hast so de- 
 sired to see.' And saying this he fell almost dead." 
 It is impossible here to mistake the way in 
 which the popular fancy was already at work on 
 that great memory. In the next century, as 
 M. Ampere observes, Italian monks will seriously 
 relate that Charlemagne went to Jerusalem. The
 
 356 THE GROWTH OF CARLOVINGIAN LEGEND. 
 
 progress of the legend, it may be observed, always 
 tends to increase the age of Charlemagne. In 
 Turold's work, after referred to, "the Song of 
 Roland," although Charlemagne is still a right 
 royal monarch, full of warlike vigour, implicitly 
 obeyed by his barons, still he is the " white-bearded 
 emperor," although in fact at the date of the action 
 of the poem, the fight of Roncevaux, he was only 
 thirty-six years old, and was not an emperor till 
 twelve years later. In later poems he is repre- 
 sented as being almost in second childhood ; he 
 is freely disobeyed by his knights, made public 
 game of. Meanwhile, according to what almost 
 invariably takes place in such cases, the leading 
 characters in the legend being so to speak worked 
 out, subordinate ones are made more prominent, or 
 new ones brought forward. Thus by the thirteenth 
 century, we find in the " Song of the Saxons," be- 
 sides Charlemagne himself, only Duke Naymes of 
 Bavaria remaining of the old set of personages, and 
 a new hero, Baldwin, another nephew of Charle- 
 magne, filling the chief place.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE STORY OF RONCEVAUX. 
 
 AT the heart, so to speak, of the Carlovingian 
 legend lies the world-renowned fight at Roncevaux, 
 an event beyond doubt more demonstrably real 
 than Arthur's battle of Badon Hill, but scarcely 
 less fictitious in its recognised poetical story. A 
 fight at Roncevaux there certainly was, and not 
 only one, but two, at forty-six years' interval, and 
 under precisely similar circumstances. Eginhard 
 tells us, both in his Life of Charlemagne and in 
 his Annals (year 778), that the king having invaded 
 Spain with all his forces, pushed as far as Saragossa, 
 before which he received hostages from the Saracen 
 chiefs, and then returned to his own states. But 
 whilst engaged in the Pyrenean passes, the Basques 
 attacked his rear-guard, which perished to a man. 
 Most of the officers of the palace, to whom the 
 king had given the command of his troops, were 
 amongst the slain, and amongst others, " Roland,
 
 358 THE STORY OF RONCEVAUX. 
 
 (Hruodlandus) prefect of the marches of Brittany." 
 This reverse, says the historian, in great measure 
 obscured the joy of the king's Spanish successes. 
 And he expressly states that no revenge could be 
 taken of this disaster, as the light-footed moun- 
 taineers dispersed at once and could not be dis- 
 covered. The popular poetry of the Basques, it 
 may be observed, has perpetuated the recollection 
 of this event in their " Song of Alta-bigar."* For 
 
 * This has been several times printed in France, amongst others 
 by M. Michel in his edition of the ' Chanson de Roland' (Paris, 
 1837). As it is still but little known in England, I insert it here : 
 
 "A cry has arisen from the midst of the mountains of the 
 Escualdunac ; and the etcheco-jauna (master of the house), standing 
 before his door, has opened his ears, and has said ' Who goes 
 there? what will they with me?' And the dog that slept at his 
 master's feet has roused itself, and has filled the neighbourhood of 
 Altabicar with its barkings. 
 
 " In the pass of Ibaneta a noise resounds ; it nears, touching the 
 rocks to right, to left ; it is the dull murmur of a coming army. Our 
 men have replied to it from the mountain-tops ; they have blown in 
 their ox-horns ; and the etcheco-jauna sharpens his arrows. 
 
 "They come ! they come ! what a hedge of spears ! How the 
 rainbow-hued banners float in the midst ! What lightning flashes 
 from the weapons ! How many are they ? Child, reckon them 
 well ! ' One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, 
 eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eight- 
 een, nineteen, twenty.' 
 
 "Twenty, and thousands more besides! One should lose time 
 in reckoning them. Let us unite our sinewy arms, let us uproot 
 these rocks, let us fling them from the mountain-tops upon their 
 very heads t Crush them ! Kill them !
 
 THE STORY OF RONCEVAUX. 359 
 
 them it had no religious meaning ; it recalled 
 simply the days of the old barbaric invasions, 
 another struggle with the giants of the north. The 
 second battle of Roncevaux took place under 
 Louis the Debonair, in 824, when two Prankish 
 counts returning from Spain were again surprised 
 and surrounded by the Pyrenean mountaineers, 
 
 " And what had they to do in our mountains, these men of the 
 North? why are they come to disturb our peace? When God 
 makes mountains, it is that men may not cross them. But the 
 rocks fall rolling, they overwhelm the troops ; blood streams, flesh 
 quivers. O ! how many crushed bones ! what a sea of blood ! 
 
 " Flee, flee, all to whom strength remains, and a horse ! Flee, 
 king Karloman, with thy black plumes and thy red mantle. Thy 
 nephew, thy bravest, thy darling, Roland, is stretched dead yonder. 
 His courage was of no avail. And now, Escualdunac, let us leave 
 the rocks there ; let us quickly descend, flinging our arrows at the 
 fugitives. 
 
 "They flee, they flee! Where then is the hedge of spears? 
 Where the rainbow-hued banners floating in the midst ? lightnings 
 flash no more from their blood-soiled weapons. How many are 
 they ? child, reckon them well ' Twenty, nineteen, eighteen, seven- 
 teen, sixteen, fifteen, fourteen, thirteen, twelve, eleven, ten, nine, 
 eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.' 
 
 ' ' One ! There is not even one. It is done. Etcheco-jauna, 
 you may go in with your dog, kiss wife and children, clean your 
 arrows, put them away with your ox-horn, then lie down over them 
 and sleep. By night, the eagles shall come and eat the crushed 
 flesh, and the bones shall whiten in eternity. " 
 
 A capital ballad, and which, if really extant in a MS. of the 
 end of the twelfth or beginning of the thirteenth century, must rank 
 as one of the most finished poems of the age.
 
 360 THE STORY OF RONCEVAUX. 
 
 and lost all their troops, themselves remaining in 
 the power of the foe.* 
 
 That these two battles should in the popular 
 memory have run into one can surprise no one, 
 nor that they should have become mixed up with 
 that earlier Pyrenean battle of the Merovingian 
 era to which I have alluded. Nor can we wonder 
 that the true meaning of these battles should have 
 escaped the many; that they should have been 
 considered simply as an episode of that great war 
 between Christian and Mussulman, of which the 
 last embers burst out even nowadays in the 
 flames of Delhi, Jedda, or Damascus massacres. 
 Spain was in the power of the Saracens ; it was 
 to fight the Saracens that both the latter Prankish 
 armies had crossed the Pyrenees ; the slaughter 
 at Roncevaux must have taken place at the hands 
 of Saracens. It is somewhat more remarkable 
 that the historical traitor of the second disaster, 
 Lupus or Lope duke of Gascony, who was hung 
 for his treachery, should have disappeared behind 
 the name of a later personage, Ganilo archbishop 
 of Sens, who, after receiving many favours from 
 Charles the Bald, signally betrayed him. As 
 Ganilo died in 865, it seems, as M. Genin observes 
 in his edition of the ' Song of Roland', impossible 
 
 * Eginhard, Annals, in anno 824.
 
 THE STORY OF RONCEVAUX. 361 
 
 to assign an earlier period than the end of the 
 ninth century or the beginning of the tenth for the 
 rise of the legend, properly so called, of Ronce- 
 vaux, in which Ganilo plays so prominent a part, 
 and by no means a clerical one. This would give 
 about half a century or more for the ripening of 
 the legend into a complete epical form, as we now 
 have it at Turold's hands. But if it be true, ac- 
 cording to Seroux d'Agincourt, as quoted by M. 
 Ge"nin, that on the doors of Verona Cathedral are 
 to be found the figures of Ogier and Roland, in 
 work of the ninth century, it would seem that, 
 however late may be Ganilo's introduction into the 
 legend as a dramatic personage, the purely heroic 
 part of that legend had already developed itself 
 within a century or so from the actual event, mix- 
 ing itself indeed with that of the earlier disaster.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 I. THE POEM. 
 
 ON the popularity of the Carlovingian legend there 
 is no need to dwell. The exploits of Roland and 
 Oliver, as M. Genin observes, were sung in Sweden 
 and Denmark, in Hungary and Italy, and even in 
 Greece. Our own phrase, the meaning of which 
 has now escaped the many, "a Rowland for an 
 Oliver", testifies to the diffusion of the story 
 amongst ourselves three centuries ago. In its 
 later form, no doubt, this story was founded on 
 the celebrated chronicle of the false Turpin. But 
 other versions of it must undoubtedly have been 
 current, greatly at variance with that work in some 
 of their leading incidents, since Pope Calixtus II., 
 n that extraordinary document in which he placed 
 the chronicle of Turpin on the same rank as the 
 canonical books, actually went so far as to damn 
 all those who should listen to the 'lying songs of
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 363 
 
 minstrels' on the same subject* Now it is pre- 
 cisely such a version which is presented to us by 
 the " Song of Roland", a poem apparently of the 
 eleventh century, and the earliest recorded one of 
 the Carlovingian cycle. 
 
 Of this poem, purporting to be written by Turold 
 or Theroulde, and which I certainly agree with its 
 latest editor and other French writers in deeming 
 the masterpiece of French epic poetry, the earliest 
 text is preserved at Oxford. Two editions of it 
 have been published, one by M. Francisque Michel, 
 (i837)f, the other by M. Genin (1851). Of the 
 controversy which has been raised on the subject 
 of M. Genin's edition, it would be too long to 
 speak here, though it certainly constitutes a piquant 
 dish of literary scandal. M. Ge"nin appears, no 
 doubt, entitled to the credit of having been the first 
 to do complete justice to, and seek due popularity 
 for, a noble poem, which M. Michel had only pub- 
 lished in a very limited edition (of 200 copies) as 
 a mere literary curiosity, as well as to the merit 
 of many ingenious philological corrections ; but he 
 must, I think, be deemed chargeable with having 
 
 * A brief summary of the ' Pseudo-Turpin' will be found in the 
 Appendix. 
 
 f In M. Michel's volume will be found an indication of and 
 extracts from the other MSS. of the poem.
 
 364 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 put himself forward as the autocratic censor of a 
 text which he had in fact never seen, and with 
 having done but scant justice to, if he did not 
 quite ignore, the labours of his predecessors not 
 to speak of many blunders of his own in text and 
 translation. 
 
 The "Song of Roland" has indeed, apart from 
 any question of literary merit, a peculiar interest 
 for our country ; not only as forming one of the 
 treasures of the Bodleian, but from its connexion 
 with one of the half-dozen greatest events in our 
 history, the battle of Hastings. For there, as we 
 are told by Wace, in his "Roman de Rou", Wil- 
 liam of Normandy's minstrel 
 
 " Taillefer who full well sang On a horse that 
 fast went Before them went singing Of Carlemain 
 and of Roland A nd of Oliver and of the vassals 
 Who died in Roncevaux"* 
 
 The remainder of the story, how the minstrel 
 begged of William " the first blow of the battle," 
 how he played with his lance, how his horse 
 rushed open-mouthed on the Saxons, how rider 
 and charger met their death, will be found only 
 
 * In spite of Wace's text, a number of learned men have main- 
 tained that the song sung at Hastings was one of 'Rollo,' not of 
 ' Roland'. I believe my readers will be glad of my sparing them 
 all controversy on the subject.
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 365 
 
 partly in Wace, but at greater length (and I suspect 
 much embellished) in Geoffrey Gaimar's Anglo- 
 Saxon chronicles. 
 
 It thus appears that to the sound of a " Song of 
 Roland" England was conquered by the Normans. 
 But with the exception of the Oxford MS., all the 
 other texts of the present poem which have come 
 down to us are amplifications of the thirteenth or 
 fourteenth centuries. Of the English one on the 
 contrary it is declared by M. Guessard, one of M. 
 Genin's opponents, that " it cannot reasonably be 
 made to go back beyond the twelfth century," 
 though he expressly guards himself against being 
 "too affirmative." M. Genin, on the other hand, 
 deems it of the eleventh, and the archaic language 
 seems to me alone, I must say, (apart from other 
 internal evidence to be hereafter noticed) to fix it 
 as at least half a century older than a work which 
 I should deem its immediate successor, and should 
 attribute to the first quarter of the twelfth century, 
 Garin the Lorrainer. We have thus a strong pre- 
 sumption that the Oxford MS. represents to us, 
 if not the actual text of the song as sung by 
 Taillefer, yet one closely corresponding to it* 
 
 * One of the puzzles of the Oxford MS. consists in the letters 
 or word AOI following most of the divisions of the poem, and 
 representing, it has been suggested, perhaps a war-cry. If so, it
 
 366 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 The poem, anyhow, is one of firstrate beauty.* 
 I know nothing more truly epical because nothing 
 broader and simpler than this beginning : 
 
 " Charles the king, our great Emperor, seven 
 years quite full has been in Spain. As far as the 
 sea he conquered the haughty land; no castle is 
 there that remains before him ; wall nor city is 
 left to be broken, save Saragossa, which is on 
 a mountain. King Marsile holds it, who loves not 
 God : Mahomet he serves and invokes Apollo."t 
 
 Sitting in an orchard under shade, more than 
 twenty thousand men around him, Marsile calls 
 his dukes and counts to council, as to how he may 
 rid himself of Charlemain. One only answers him, 
 the wise Blancandrin, who advises him to send 
 a friendly embassy to Charles, with splendid pre- 
 sents, offering to go and do fealty to him at 
 Michaelmas, and receive Christian baptism, and 
 giving ten or twenty hostages if necessary ; he will 
 himself send his son. The Franks will depart, 
 Michaelmas will come and go without tidings of 
 
 might afford an additional presumption in favour of the identity 
 of the Oxford text with Taillefer's song. 
 
 * An English version of it, but from the modern French, by 
 Mrs. Marsh, has been published in a quarto form. The one which 
 follows appeared in "Macmillan's Magazine." 
 
 f The confusion here indicated between Mahomedanism and 
 Paganism runs through all the popular thought of the Middle Ages.
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 367 
 
 the paynim, the proud king will cut off the host- 
 ages' heads ; but it is better they lose their heads 
 " than that we lose bright Spain the fair." 
 
 The advice is taken; envoys are sent with the 
 lying message, on white mules, with olive-branches 
 in their hands. They come to Charlemain, who 
 has just taken Cordova, sitting he too in "a great 
 orchard"; by him Roland and Oliver and other 
 chiefs, and fifteen thousand men of " sweet France." 
 The knights are sitting on white cloths, playing at 
 draughts and chess ; agile bachelors are fencing ; 
 on an arm-chair of gold, under a pine-tree, beside 
 a hawthorn, " sits the king who holds sweet France ; 
 white is his beard and flowered all" (i.e. white- 
 haired) " his head ; comely his body, proud his 
 countenance. If any asks for him, there is no 
 need of pointing him out." The messengers deliver 
 their message ; king Marsile will give largely of 
 his treasures ; bears, and lions, and greyhounds in 
 leash, seven hundred camels and a thousand moulted 
 hawks, four hundred mules loaded with gold and 
 silver, fifty carts filled with the like to pay the 
 soldiers. Charlemain has been long enough in this 
 country ; he should go to Aix ; there the king will 
 follow him. 
 
 " The emperor stretches his hands toward God, 
 bows his head, begins to think ... In his words
 
 368 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 never was he hasty ; his custom is to speak at 
 leisure." Lifting his head, he asks what warrant 
 he shall have of such words ? The hostages are 
 offered, and the pledge of baptism is given. The 
 emperor gives no answer however that night, but 
 has the messengers nobly entertained, and sum- 
 mons his barons to council for the next morning 
 under a pine-tree ; " By those of France" (i. e. by 
 their advice) " he means wholly to walk." 
 
 They come ; Duke Ogier and Archbishop 
 Turpin, Richard the old and his nephew Henry, 
 brave Count Acelin of Gascony, Tedbald of Reims 
 and his cousin Milo, Gerer and Gerin, Count 
 Roland and Oliver the brave and comely; and 
 Guenes (or Ganilo) "who did the treason." The 
 emperor sets forth Marsile's offers. Roland starts 
 to his feet. " 111 shall ye credit Marsile !" Once 
 before the same attempt was made, fifteen thousand 
 pagans were sent with olive-branches in their hands, 
 using the same words ; the emperor sent two of 
 his counts, but the pagan king cut their heads off. 
 " Make the war as you have undertaken it ; lead 
 all your host to Saragossa, besiege it all your life- 
 long, avenge those whom the felon has killed." 
 
 The emperor's visage darkens, he answers nought. 
 All are silent, save Ganilo, who rises and comes 
 before Charlemain, and proudly speaks : " When
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 369 
 
 king Marsile offers you that with joined hands he 
 will become your man, and will hold all Spain by 
 your gift, and then will receive the law we hold, 
 who advises you that we reject this plea, he cares 
 not, sire, of what death we die. It is not right 
 that pride's counsel should have the upper hand. 
 Leave we the fools, and hold we by the wise." 
 
 Naymes (of Bavaria) comes after him, " better 
 vassal in the court was none :" King Marsile is van- 
 quished, he cries mercy, it would be a sin to do 
 more to him ; this great war should go no further. 
 " Well hath the Duke spoken," say the French. 
 
 "Lord Barons, whom shall we send to Sara- 
 gossa, to king Marsile ?" Naymes offers to go ; the 
 emperor tells him he is a wise man, and shall not 
 go so far from him. Roland offers ; Oliver objects 
 that he is too proud and might do mischief, but 
 could well go himself; the emperor forbids them 
 both. Archbishop Turpin offers in turn, and is 
 in turn silenced. The emperor tells the knights 
 to choose a baron for messenger. " Ganilo my 
 stepfather," suggests Roland. "You shall send 
 none wiser," say the French. 
 
 Full angry was count Ganilo ; from his neck he 
 threw his great furs of sable, and remained in his 
 tunic. " Hazel were his eyes and full proud his 
 visage, comely his body, and broad his sides"; all 
 
 VOL. I. BB
 
 3/0 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 his peers look at him with admiration. "Fool," 
 says he to Roland, " what madness is this ? Well 
 do men know that I am thy stepfather. Hast 
 thou judged that I go to Marsile ? An God 
 grant that I return from thence, I will moot thee 
 such a counter-blow as shall last thee all thy life !" 
 ' Am / proud and a fool ?' answers Roland. 
 ' Well do men know I care not for threats. But it 
 should be a wise man to do the message. If the 
 king choose, I am ready to do it for you.' " Ganilo 
 repels the ironical offer, and declares that he will 
 go, after a short delay, to lighten his " great wrath." 
 Roland laughs on hearing this. Ganilo is ready to 
 burst with rage. He addresses the emperor : since 
 none who go to Saragossa can return, he recom- 
 mends to him his fair son Baldwin, the son of the 
 emperor's sister, to him he leaves his honours and 
 his fiefs ; " keep him well, with my eyes I shall 
 never see him." "Your heart is too tender," re- 
 plies the emperor ; " since I order it, it befits you 
 to go." And he offers him the "staff and the 
 glove," apparently the insignia of his embassy. 
 " ' Sire,' says Ganilo, ' Roland has done all this ; 
 I will not love him all my life long, nor Oliver, for 
 that he is his companion, nor the twelve peers, for 
 that they love him so. I defy them, sire, before 
 your eyes.' Then said the king : ' You are too ill-
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 minded ; now shall you go, for certain, when I 
 command it.' ' Go I may, but without warranty.' " 
 i. e. for my life. As the glove is handed to him 
 he lets it fall, an evil omen which strikes all the 
 French. He takes his leave at once, and departs 
 in stately array, amid much lamentation from his 
 knights, whom he charges to greet for him his 
 wife, and Pinabel his friend and peer, and his son 
 Baldwin whom they are to hold for lord. 
 
 He rejoins the Saracen messenger, and speaks 
 with Blancandrin. The latter begins by dwelling 
 on Charlemain's achievements, who has conquered 
 Apulia and all Calabria, passed the salt sea to 
 England, and conquered the tribute of it to the 
 Holy Father. But what does he want in the 
 Spanish marches ? Evil work do those dukes and 
 counts who so advise their lord ! I know none 
 such, replies Ganilo, but Roland. The emperor 
 was sitting under the shade in a meadow by Car- 
 cassonne ; came his nephew, in his hand a ruddy 
 apple. "'Behold, lord,' said Roland to his uncle, 
 'of all the kings I present you the crowns.' His 
 pride should well confound him, for every day he 
 gives himself away to death. Were he killed, we 
 should all have peace." They ride on, and end by 
 pledging each other that they will seek Roland's 
 death.
 
 372 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 They reach Saragossa, and find king Marsile 
 sitting under a pine-tree, twenty thousand Saracens 
 around. Blancandrin gives account of his embassy; 
 Charlemain has returned no reply, but has sent 
 a noble French baron, from whom they shall hear 
 whether they will have peace or not. 
 
 " But count Ganilo had well bethought himself; 
 by great wisdom he began to speak, as he who 
 well knows how." Charles's message, he tells the 
 king, is that he should become a Christian, and 
 receive half Spain in fief; if not, he shall be taken 
 and bound, carried to Aix, and there judged and 
 put to death. The king is so enraged that he 
 would have pierced him with a javelin, if not 
 hindered. Ganilo, seeing this, puts his hand on 
 his sword, draws it two fingers' length out of the 
 scabbard : " Sword," says he, " full fair and bright 
 are you ; so long have I borne you at the king's 
 court, that the emperor of France shall never say 
 that I die alone in the strange land ; ere that, the 
 best shall have paid for you !" The Saracens 
 interfere to stop the quarrel. Ganilo declares that 
 for all the gold that God made, nor for all the 
 riches in the land, would he have spared to give 
 Charlemain's message. " He was wrapped in a 
 mantle of sable, that was covered with a cloth of 
 Alexandria. He throws it down, and Blancandrin
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 373 
 
 receives it ; but his sword he would not quit ; in 
 his right fist by the golden hilt he held it. The 
 pagans say 'a noble baron is here.'" He goes on 
 to develop the message; Charlemain will give 
 Marsile half Spain in fee ; " the other half he will 
 give to Roland his nephew; a full proud joint- 
 tenant you shall have there." If not, he will be 
 besieged in Saragossa, bound, taken to Aix neither 
 on palfrey, charger, nor mule, but thrown upon 
 a wretched baggage-hack, and at Aix lose his 
 head. In proof whereof he hands him the em- 
 peror's letter. Marsile, "discoloured with rage", 
 breaks the seal, flings the wax away, and reads 
 out the contents, by which Charlemain bids him 
 moreover send as hostage his uncle the khalif. 
 Marsile's son asks that Ganilo be delivered to 
 him, and he will do justice of him ! Ganilo 
 hearing this, brandishes his sword, and sets his 
 back against the pine-trunk. 
 
 But the king enters into the orchard with the 
 best of his men ; Blancandrin bids him call the 
 Frenchman, for he has pledged his faith for their 
 behoof. At the king's bidding he brings Ganilo. 
 "There they treat of the unrighteous treason." 
 Marsile begins by apologising for his rashness, and 
 offers Ganilo five hundred pounds' worth of gold 
 in sables ; before to-morrow night he will have
 
 374 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 made amends. He then begins to speak of Charle- 
 main. " He is very old ; his time is spent ; me- 
 thinks he is more than two hundred years old ? 
 Through how many lands has he carried his body ! 
 how many blows received on his shield ! how many 
 rich kings led to beggary ! When shall he ever 
 be tired of warring ?" Ganilo replies : ' Not such is 
 Charles ! None can see him and know him, but 
 will say that the emperor is a man ! I cannot so 
 praise nor vaunt him to you, but that there shall be 
 in him yet more honour and goodness. Who could 
 recount his great valour ? God has enlightened 
 him with such a baronage, as would rather die 
 than leave his baronry.' The pagan says : ' I marvel 
 much at Charlemain, who is grey and old. Me- 
 thinks he is two hundred years old and more ? 
 Through how many lands has he worked his 
 body ! how many blows received of lances and 
 swords ! how many rich kings led to beggary ! 
 When shall he ever be tired of warring ?' 
 ' Never,' said Ganilo, ' while his nephew lives. There 
 is no such vassal under heaven's cope. Full equally 
 brave is his comrade Oliver ; the twelve peers, 
 whom Charles holds so dear, form the vanguard 
 with twenty thousand knights. Charles is secure, 
 he fears no man.'" 
 
 Marsile boasts in turn of the four hundred thou-
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 375 
 
 sand knights whom he can bring forward. Ganilo 
 warns him to do no such thing. "Leave folly, 
 hold by wisdom. Give so much wealth to the 
 emperor that every Frenchman shall marvel. For 
 twenty hostages that you shall send to him, the 
 king shall return to sweet France; his rearguard 
 he will leave behind him ; there will be his nephew 
 count Roland, I think, and Oliver the brave and 
 courteous. Dead are the counts, if any will believe 
 me. Charles will see his great pride fall ; and he 
 will have no mind ever to make war upon you.' 
 'Fair Sir Ganilo, an God bless you, how shall I 
 kill Roland?'" Ganilo tells him that when the 
 king will be at the pass of Sizer, his rear-guard 
 behind him with Roland and Oliver and twenty 
 thousand French, he is to send a hundred thousand 
 pagans against them ; there will be great slaughter ; 
 but a second battle must be fought, and in one or 
 the other Roland would perish ; and Roland dead, 
 " Charles would lose the right arm of his body," 
 and "the great land* would remain in peace." 
 They mutually swear to the treason, Ganilo on the 
 relics contained in his sword-hilt, Marsile on a book 
 of "the law of Mahomet and Tervagant" One of 
 the Saracens now gives his sword to Ganilo, another 
 
 * 'Terre major 1 i.e. France a remarkable expression of this 
 poem.
 
 3/6 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 his helmet; queen Bramimond two bracelets for 
 his wife ; the king promises him " ten mules laden 
 with finest gold of Arabia," and this year by year. 
 Ganilo now departs with the keys of Saragossa, 
 the presents and the hostages. 
 
 He reaches the emperor of a morning, as he 
 sits on the green grass before his tent, Roland 
 with him and Oliver and Naymes, and a good 
 number of others. He delivers the lying message ; 
 if he has not brought the khalif, it is because with 
 his own eyes he has seen him and three hundred 
 thousand men all shipwrecked and drowned, four 
 leagues from the shore. Before a month Marsile 
 will follow the emperor to France, to receive the 
 Christian law and hold Spain of him. The king 
 thanks him for his services. A thousand trumpets 
 sound throughout the army, the French raise their 
 camp, load their sumpter-horses, and depart for 
 "sweet France." But while they march home- 
 ward, the pagans ride by the upper valleys, hau- 
 berks on, banners folded, helmets closed, swords 
 girded, shields on neck, and lances in rest ; they 
 tarry in a wood on the summit of the hills ; four 
 hundred thousand men await the daybreak. "God! 
 what sorrow that the French know it not !" 
 
 The emperor is troubled with evil dreams. At 
 one time he deems that Ganilo seizes his lance,
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 377 
 
 and shaking it causes it to fly in pieces ; at another, 
 that being at Aix a boar bites his right arm, and 
 a leopard from Ardenne assails him ; but a hound 
 comes leaping, bites the right ear of the boar, and 
 wrathfully fights the leopard. At dawn he asks 
 his barons whom he shall entrust with the charge 
 of the rearguard. " Roland my stepson," answers 
 Ganilo ; " no baron have you of so great vassalry." 
 "A devil alive are you," replies the king ; " deadly 
 rage has entered your body. And who shall be 
 before me in the vanguard ?" " Ogier of Den- 
 mark," says Ganilo ; " you have no baron who can 
 do it better than he." Roland declares that since 
 the rearguard is adjudged to him, the king shall 
 lose nor palfrey nor charger, nor ridable mule, nor 
 hack, that shall not have been paid for by their 
 swords. " Give me," says he to the emperor, " the 
 bow you hold in your fist ; methinks they shall not 
 reproach me that it fall from me, as did to Ganilo 
 the staff which he received with his right hand." 
 The emperor's countenance darkens, "he fingers 
 his beard and untwists his moustache," he cannot 
 help weeping; Naymes sees Roland's wrath, and 
 begs the king to give him the bow, which he does. 
 The emperor presses Roland to retain with him 
 half the host. ' I will do no such thing,' replies 
 Roland ; " I will retain twenty thousand full brave
 
 3/8 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 Franks ; pass the gates all in safety, never shall ye 
 fear any man while I live." 
 
 He mounts his charger; to him come Oliver his 
 mate, and Gerin, and brave Gerer, and Josse, and 
 Berenger, and Jastor, and old Anseis, and proud 
 Gerard of Roussillon, and rich duke Gaifer. " By 
 my head I will go!" says the archbishop. "'And 
 I with you,' says count Walter ; ' I am Roland's 
 man, I ought not to fail him.' " Twenty thousand 
 knights are thus chosen out. Count Roland calls 
 Walter of Luz, and tells him with a thousand men 
 to occupy the depths and heights, that the emperor 
 may lose none of his men. 
 
 " High are the mountains and gloomy the valleys, 
 dark the rocks, marvellous the defiles." When the 
 French approach the "great land," they see Gas- 
 cony, and remember " their fiefs and their honours, 
 and their damsels and their gentle wives ; there is 
 none of them but weeps for pity. Charlemain is 
 anxious above all the others ; he has left his 
 nephew at the gates of Spain." Duke Naymes 
 rides beside him, and asks him why he is heavy- 
 hearted. Charles tells him he fears Ganilo will 
 destroy France; he has adjudged Roland to the 
 rearguard, whom if Charles loses, he will never 
 have his match. Seeing him weep, a hundred 
 thousand French are moved, and fear for Roland.
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 3/9 
 
 Meanwhile Marsile has summoned all his men, 
 four hundred thousand in three days ; after expos- 
 ing Mahomet to their adoration on the highest 
 tower in Saragossa, they ride by hill and dale till 
 they see the pennons of the twelve peers. Mar- 
 sile's nephew (afterwards called Asbroth) comes 
 forward on a mule, and laughing asks a guerdon 
 of the king for many a service, "the blow of 
 Roland," whom he means to kill with his sharp 
 sword. Marsile " gives him the glove" of it. As- 
 broth then asks for eleven of the barons, to fight 
 the twelve peers. Falsaro, Marsile's brother, king 
 Corsallis, Malprimis of Brigal, (swifter footman 
 than a horse), an emir of Balaguer, an almacer 
 of Maurienne (i. e. Savoy), Turgis count of Tourte- 
 louse, Escremiz of Vauterne, Esturganz and his 
 mate Estramariz, Margariz of Sibille, the friend of 
 ladies through his beauty, Chernuble of Munigro, 
 whose hair sweeps the ground, who bears a bigger 
 load for sport than four mules for baggage, who 
 comes from a land where " sun shines not, nor corn 
 can grow, nor rain falls, nor dew wets, nor is there 
 stone that be not all black, some say that devils 
 dwell there," offer themselves for the purpose, all 
 boasting of what they will achieve. One hundred 
 thousand Saracens go with him, and ami in a larch 
 grove.
 
 380 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 " Clear was the day and fair was the sun ; no 
 garment have they but it all glitters like fire ; they 
 sound a thousand trumpets for more comeliness. 
 Great is the noise, the French heard it. Said 
 Oliver ' Sir comrade, methinks we may have battle 
 of Saracens ?' Answers Roland : ' And God grant 
 it us ! Well ought we to be here for our king. 
 For one's lord should one suffer distress, and en- 
 dure great heat and great cold; one should lose 
 both leather and hair. Now look every one to 
 fulfil such great blows, that evil song be not sung 
 of us ! Pagans are in the wrong and Christians in 
 the right. Evil example shall never be of me.' 
 
 "Oliver has climbed on a high pine-tree, he 
 looks to right amidst a grassy vale, he sees come 
 that paynim folk, he calls Roland his comrade : 
 'Toward Spain I see come such a tumult, so 
 many white hauberks, so many glittering helmets ! 
 These shall do a great mischief to our French. 
 Ganilo knew it, the felon, the traitor, who judged 
 us" (i. e. assigned this post to us) " before the em- 
 peror.' ' Hold thy peace, Oliver,' answers count 
 Roland ; 'he is my stepfather, I will not have a 
 word said of him.'" Oliver sees so many Saracens 
 that he cannot even count the troops of them. All 
 bewildered he descends from the pine-tree. "I 
 have seen so many pagans," he tells the French,
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 381 
 
 "'never man on earth saw more ! Ye shall have 
 
 a battle, never was the like ! Lord Barons, have 
 virtue from God, stand to the field, that we be not 
 beaten!' 'Cursed be he that flees!" say the 
 French ; " never for dying shall one man fail you." 
 "Comrade Roland," Oliver pursues, "'now blow 
 your horn ; Charles will hear it, the host will re- 
 turn.' ' I should do as a madman ! In sweet 
 France I should lose my praise! I will strike 
 always great blows with Durandal ; the brand shall 
 be bloody to the hilt; ill shall come the felon 
 pagans to the gates : I pledge you they are all 
 judged to death.' ' Comrade Roland, now sound 
 the ivory horn. Charles will hear it, he will make 
 the host return, the king with his baronry will 
 succour us.' Replies Roland : ' May it not please 
 the Lord God that my kinsmen be blamed for me, 
 nor sweet France fall into contempt ! Rather will 
 I strike enough with Durandal, my good sword 
 that I have girded to my side. You shall see the 
 brand all bloody. Ill gathered themselves together 
 the felon pagans : I pledge you they are all given 
 over to death.' ' Comrade Roland, sound your 
 ivory horn ; Charles will hear it, who is passing at 
 the gates : I pledge you the French will return.' 
 'May it not please God,' replies Roland to him, 
 ' it be said by any living man that I have blown
 
 382 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 horn for pagans ! Never for this shall my kinsmen 
 have reproach. When I shall be in the great 
 battle, and I shall strike a thousand blows and 
 seven hundred, you shall see the bloody steel of 
 Durandal ! The French are good, they will strike 
 as vassals : those of Spain shall have no safety 
 from death.' ' Said Oliver : I know no blame of 
 this. I have seen the Saracens of Spain ; covered 
 with them are the vales and the mountains, and 
 the brushwoods and all the plains. Great are the 
 hosts of that stranger-folk ; a full small company 
 have we.' Answers Roland : ' My desire is all 
 the greater. May it not please God nor His saints 
 nor His angels that ever for me France lose her 
 worth ! I had rather die than shame should come 
 to me. The better we strike, the more the emperor 
 loves us.' Roland is brave, and Oliver is wise ; 
 bothhave wonderful vassalage" (i.e. bravery). "Now 
 that they are on horseback and in arms, never for 
 death will they eschew battle ; good are the counts 
 and high their words." 
 
 Oliver still remonstrates. Roland, "prouder 
 than lion or leopard," calls the French, and speaks 
 aloud to Oliver : " Sir comrade, friend, speak not 
 so ! The emperor who left the French in our care, 
 placed apart twenty thousand ; to his mind there 
 was not one coward among them. For one's lord
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 383 
 
 one should suffer great ills, and suffer strong cold 
 and great heat, one should lose blood and flesh. 
 Strike with thy lance, and I with Durandal, my 
 good sword which the king gave me. If I die, 
 he who has her may say, 'This sword belonged 
 to a noble vassal.'" Archbishop Turpin on his 
 horse makes a sermon to the French : " Lord barons, 
 Charles left us here; for our king well should we 
 die ; help to sustain Christendom. Ye shall have 
 battle, ye are all sure of it, for with your eyes you 
 see the Saracens. Cry your sins, pray God's 
 mercy, I will absolve you to heal your souls. If 
 ye die, ye will be holy martyrs, ye shall have seats 
 in the highest Paradise." The French dismount, 
 they kneel on the ground, the archbishop blesses 
 them in God's name ; " for penance he commands 
 them to strike." The French then rise, mount 
 their horses, and place themselves in battle array. 
 
 Roland is in the gates of Spain on his good 
 horse Veillantif, in his hand his broadsword, the 
 point towards heaven, a white pennon laced to the 
 top ; his golden reins float in his hands. " Full 
 comely was his body, his visage bright and laugh- 
 ing. After him came following his comrade ; those 
 of France claim him to warranty. Proudly he 
 looks towards the Saracens, towards the French 
 humbly and mildly ; courteously he says a word to
 
 \ 
 384 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 them : ' Lord barons, ride on gently ; these pagans 
 go seeking a great martyrdom ; to-day shall we 
 have booty fair and great; so worthy never had 
 king of France.' At these words the hosts go join- 
 ing each other. Said Oliver : ' I care not to speak. 
 You deigned not to sound your ivory horn; nor 
 shall you have aid from Charles. He knows not 
 a word of it, nor is he in fault, the brave one. 
 Those who are there are not to blame. Lord 
 barons, hold the field ; by God I pray you, be 
 resolved to strike blows, to receive and to give. 
 The war-cry of Charles we should not forget.' At 
 these words the French cry out ; and who should 
 hear them shout Monjoie might well remember 
 vassalage." 
 
 The battle begins by a single combat between 
 Roland and Asbroth, whom Roland attacks with 
 such fury that he cleaves him down the spine. 
 Then Falsaro, who " held the land of Dathan and 
 Abiron," half-a-foot broad between his eyes, is 
 killed by Oliver. Archbishop Turpin runs his 
 great spear through king Corsalis, Angelier kills 
 Malprimis of Brigal, Gerer his comrade the emir. 
 " Fair is our battle," said Oliver. Duke Samson 
 cuts the almacer through heart and liver and lungs. 
 "A baron's blow," says the archbishop. Anseis 
 kills Turgis of Tourtelouse ; Angelier again Escremiz
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 385 
 
 of Vauterne, Walter Esturganz, Berenger Estra- 
 mariz.* Of the twelve Saracen peers two only 
 remain, Chernuble and Margariz, a "full valiant 
 knight, fair and strong and swift and light," who 
 has a pass of arms with Oliver, but without result 
 The battle is now general. After fifteen blows 
 Roland's spear breaks, and he draws Durandal, 
 with which he splits atwain both Chernuble and 
 his horse. Oliver with the stump of his broken 
 spear brains a pagan, strikes and kills on all sides 
 till the wood splinters to his very hand. * Where 
 is your sword Haultclear ?' asks Roland. Oliver 
 draws it, and cleaves in turn a pagan and his horse. 
 " For such blows the emperor loves us," cries 
 Roland. The archbishop kills Siglorel the en- 
 chanter, who, led by Jupiter, has already been in 
 hell. "Brother Oliver," cries Roland, "fair are 
 such blows to me." The pagans die by thousands 
 and by hundreds ; who flees not has no warranty 
 against death. But " the French will not see again 
 their fathers nor their kindred, nor Charlemain 
 who waits for them at the gates. In France there 
 is a marvellous tempest, a storm of thunder and of 
 wind, rain and hail beyond measure. Many a 
 
 * It will be seen that the names of the French champions differ 
 in several instances from those mentioned at p. 378. 
 
 VOL. I. CC
 
 386 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 lightning falls, and often ; earthquakes truly are 
 there from St. Michael of Paris to Sens, from 
 Besangon to the port of Wishant. There is no 
 shelter whereof the walls crack not ; against mid- 
 day great darkness is there, no light save the sky 
 opens. None sees it without dismay; many say 
 ''Tis the last day, the end of this present age.' 
 They know not nor speak the truth ; 'tis the great 
 woe for Roland's death." 
 
 " The French have struck with heart and vigour. 
 The pagans are dead, by thousands, by crowds. 
 Of one hundred thousand not two can escape. 
 Says Roland : ' Our men are full brave ; no man 
 under heaven has better ; it is written in the geste 
 of the French that our emperor has vassals in- 
 deed.' " They go through the field, seeking their 
 men, they weep with their eyes for their kinsmen. 
 Now comes king Marsile with his great host, full 
 thirty troops, seven thousand trumpets sounding 
 the charge. Says Roland : " Oliver, comrade, bro- 
 ther, felon Ganilo has sworn our death ; the treason 
 cannot be hid ; full great revenge shall the emperor 
 take of it. A battle we shall have, strong and ob- 
 stinate ; never man yet saw the like come together. 
 I will strike with Durandal my sword, and you, 
 comrade, strike with Haultclear ; in so many good 
 places have we borne them, so many battles have
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 387 
 
 we achieved with them, evil song should not be 
 sung of them." 
 
 Before Marsile's host rides the Saracen Abisme, 
 black as pitch, loving more treason and murder 
 than all the gold of Galicia ; no man ever saw him 
 play nor laugh ; a favourite he of king Marsile, and 
 bears his dragon, to which all the host rally. The 
 archbishop, seated on a horse which he took from 
 a king whom he killed in Denmark, well-cut of 
 the feet, flat of leg, short of thigh, broad in the 
 hind-quarter, long in the sides, high in the back, 
 with white tail and yellow mane, and small ears on 
 his tawny head, no beast dare go against him, 
 the archbishop goes strike Abisme on his gemmed 
 shield, and cleaves him from the one side to the 
 other. " Great vassalage is this," say the French ; 
 "with the archbishop full safe is the cross." Yet 
 seeing the pagans are so many, the French look 
 often to Oliver and Roland. " Lord barons," says 
 the archbishop, "go not to think ill. By God I 
 pray you that ye flee not, that no worthy man 
 sing evilly of it. ... We shall here have our end ; 
 beyond this day we shall be no more alive ; but 
 of one thing I warrant you well, holy Paradise is 
 given to you, with the innocents ye shall, sit there." 
 
 Angelier of Gascony is now killed by a Saracen, 
 the same who gave Ganilo his sword, Oliver
 
 388 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 however takes swift revenge of the peer's death. 
 Then Valdabrun, another of Ganilo's friends, 
 " lord by sea of four hundred dromons," who had 
 taken Jerusalem by treason, violated Solomon's 
 temple, and killed the patriarch before the font, 
 kills duke Samson, whom Roland in turn avenges. 
 An African of Africa, son of king Malchus, kills 
 Anseis, and is killed by Turpin. The son of the 
 king of Cappadocia kills Gerin and Gerer, Berenger 
 and others, but meeting Roland, flees before him, 
 yet in vain ; with one blow Roland cleaves atwain 
 man and horse. So valiant are the French that 
 victory seems long to remain with them. Great 
 is the prowess of Roland, Oliver, and the arch- 
 bishop. The number of their slain "is written in 
 charters and briefs ; the geste says, more than four 
 thousand." But after four successful encounters, 
 the fifth is "heavy and grievous," all the French 
 knights are killed save sixty ; " before they die, 
 they will sell themselves dear." 
 
 " Count Roland sees great loss of his men. He 
 calls his comrade Oliver: 'Fair dear comrade, for 
 God's sake who protects you, see how many good 
 vassals lie on the ground. Well may we pity sweet 
 France, the fair ; how deserted she remains now of 
 such barons! Ah, friend king, why are you not 
 here ? Oliver, brother, how shall we do it ? how
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 389 
 
 shall we send news to him ?' Says Oliver : ' I know 
 not how to fetch him. Better die than shame be 
 drawn on us.' 
 
 " Said Roland then : ' I will sound the ivory 
 horn ; Charles will hear it, who is passing the gates 
 of Spain ; I pledge you the French will return.' 
 Said Oliver : ' Great shame were it, and a reproach 
 to all your kinsmen. Such a shame would last all 
 their lifetime. When I said it to you you would 
 do nought ; you shall not do it by my advice .... 
 If the king were here, we should have no harm ; 
 those who are there ought to bear no blame.' 
 Said Oliver : ' By this beard of mine, if I may see 
 my pleasant sister Alda, never shall you lie in her 
 arms.' 
 
 " Said Roland then : ' Why are you wroth with 
 me ?' And he answered : ' Comrade, it is your 
 doing; for vassalage by sense is not folly; better 
 is measure than foolishness ; Frenchmen are dead 
 by your lightness ; never shall Charles have service 
 of us ... never shall be such a man till God's judg- 
 ment! You will die here, and France will be 
 shamed ; to-day the loyal company fails us ; for 
 before evening grievous will be the parting.' 
 
 " The archbishop heard them disputing, he 
 pricked his horse with his spurs of pure gold. 
 He came to them and began to reprove them :
 
 390 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 'Sir Roland, and you Sir Oliver, for God I pray 
 you, dispute not. To blow the horn would now 
 no more avail us, but nevertheless it is full better 
 the king should come, he may avenge us. Those 
 of Spain ought not to return. Our French, de- 
 scending on foot, will find us dead and cut to 
 pieces, they will lift us in biers, on sumpter-horses, 
 they will lament us with mourning and pity, they 
 will bury us in minsters, so that we be not eaten 
 by wolves, nor hogs, nor dogs.' Roland answers : 
 ' Sir, you speak full well.' 
 
 " Roland has placed the ivory in his mouth. . . . 
 High are the hills, and the voice is full long. For 
 thirty great leagues they heard it answer. Charles 
 heard it and all his companies. Said the king : 
 ' Our men do battle.' And Ganilo replied : ' If 
 another said it, it would seem a great lie.' 
 
 "Count Roland, by labour and by effort, by 
 great pain, sounds his ivory horn ; from his mouth 
 bursts the clear blood forth; the temples of his 
 head are bursting. Of the horn he holds very 
 wide is the hearing. Charles hears it, who is pass- 
 ing at the gates; Naymes hears it, the French 
 listen. Said the king : ' I hear Roland's horn ; 
 never would he sound it but in a fight.' Ganilo 
 answers: 'Battle there is none; you are old, and 
 flowery, and white ; by such words you seem a
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 391 
 
 child. You know enough Roland's great pride; 
 great marvel is it that God has so long suffered 
 
 him For a single hare he goes blowing his 
 
 horn all the day; before his peers he goes now 
 boasting. Besides, there is no one who would seek 
 him in the field. Ride on then ; why stop you ? 
 The great land is full far ahead.' 
 
 " Count Roland has his mouth all bloody ; burst 
 are the temples of his head ; he sounds the ivory 
 with pain and weariness ; Charles hears it, and his 
 French likewise. Said the king : ' That horn has 
 a long breath.' Replies Duke Naymes : ' A baron 
 is labouring at it ! There is battle ! By my wit, 
 that man betrayed him who sought to deceive you. 
 Make ready, sound your cry, bear succour to your 
 fair vassalry; you hear well enough that Roland 
 is going mad.'" 
 
 The king at once rides back in all haste with 
 his men. He has count Ganilo seized and handed 
 over as a felon to the cooks of his household, 
 placing him in charge of Bego the master-cook. 
 One hundred kitchen companions, of the best and 
 the worst, pull out his beard and moustache, and 
 strike him each four blows with their fists; they 
 beat him with sticks, they put a big chain on his 
 neck, chaining him ' like a bear,' and place him on 
 a sumpter-horse for shame.
 
 392 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 " High are the hills, and dark, and great ; deep 
 the valleys, swift running the streams ; the trumpets 
 sound behind and before. . . . Angrily rides the 
 emperor ; anxious and sorrowful the French." But 
 they cannot be in time. 
 
 Roland looks to the hills and the moors; he 
 sees so many French lie dead, he bewails them as 
 a gentle knight : " Lord barons, God have mercy 
 on you ! grant paradise to all your souls ! make 
 them lie in holy flowers! Never saw I better 
 vassals than you ; so long have ye always served 
 me ! so great countries have ye conquered for 
 Charles ! . . . Land of France, a full sweet country 
 are you. . . . Barons of France, for me I see you 
 die; I cannot defend nor warrant you. God help 
 you, who never lied ! Oliver, brother, I ought not 
 to fail you. I will die of grief if another kill me 
 not. Sir comrade, let us go and strike again !' 
 
 " Count Roland has gone afield, he holds Du- 
 randal, he strikes like a vassal. ... As the stag goes 
 before the dogs, before Roland so flee the pagans. 
 Said the archbishop : ' You do well enough. Such 
 valour should a knight have who bears arms and 
 sits on a good horse. In the battle he should be 
 strong and fierce, or otherwise he is not worth 
 fourpence, rather should he be monk in minster, 
 so shall he pray daily for our sins.' Roland re-
 
 THE " SONG OF ROLAND." 393 
 
 plies: 'Strike, spare them not!'" At these words 
 the French begin again, fierce as lions, knowing 
 that they shall have no quarter. 
 
 King Marsile strikes valiantly on the Saracens' 
 part, he kills amongst others Ivorie, Ivo, and Gerard 
 of Roussillon. Roland seeking to avenge them 
 strikes off the king's right hand, and kills his son. 
 One hundred thousand pagans are so affrighted 
 that they take to flight, never to return. But if 
 Marsile has fled, there remains his uncle Marganice, 
 with his black Ethiopians, large-nosed, broad-eared, 
 more than fifty thousand. Seeing them ride against 
 him, " Then said Roland : ' Here shall we receive 
 martyrdom ; now know I well that we have but 
 little to live; but felon he who sells not himself 
 dear before. Strike, lords, with your polished 
 weapons ; so challenge your deaths and your lives 
 that sweet France be not shamed by us. When to 
 this field shall come Charles my lord, and shall see 
 such a chastening of the Saracens that against one 
 of us he shall find fifteen dead, he will not fail to 
 bless us.'" 
 
 The fewness of the French gives pride and 
 comfort to the Saracens. Marganice, striking 
 Oliver from behind, pierces him through the chest 
 with his spear, and thinks to have well avenged his 
 people on such a knight alone. But Oliver, though
 
 394 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 feeling his death- wound, strikes with Haultclear 
 the golden helmet of Marganice, casting down its 
 flowers and crystals, and cleaves his head down to 
 the smaller teeth. " Pagan," he cries, " nor to wife 
 nor lady whom thou hast seen shalt thou boast in 
 the kingdom whence thou art that thou hast taken 
 from me one penny's-worth, or done damage to me 
 or to any." Flinging himself into the midst of the 
 fray he strikes on all sides, dismembering the 
 Saracens, throwing them dead one upon the other. 
 But he calls to Roland for aid, for to-day they 
 must part. 
 
 Roland looks on Oliver; his face is colourless, 
 the clear blood runs down his body and drops to 
 the ground ; for grief he faints on his horse. 
 Oliver has so bled that his eyes have lost their 
 strength ; " nor far nor near can he see so clear as 
 to recognise any mortal man. When his comrade 
 meets him, he strikes him on his helmet gemmed 
 with gold, he cleaves it in two to the nose-piece, 
 but wounds him not in the head. At such a blow 
 Roland looks on him, and asks him soft and gentry, 
 ' Sir comrade, have you done it willingly ? this is 
 Roland, who is wont to love you so ; in nowise had 
 you defied me.' Said Oliver : ' Now I hear you 
 speak, I see you not ; the Lord God see you ! I 
 have struck you ; now forgive me.' Roland replies :
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 395 
 
 'I am none the worse; I forgive it you here and 
 before God.' With these words one bends to the 
 other ; midst such love, behold, they are parted. 
 
 " Oliver feels that death much anguishes him ; 
 both his eyes turn in his head ; he loses all his 
 hearing and his sight. He descends from horse- 
 back and lies down on the earth, hardly and loud 
 he proclaims his sins, both his hands joined towards 
 heaven. He prays God that He may give him 
 Paradise, and bless Charles and sweet France, and 
 his comrade Roland above all men ; his heart fails 
 him. . . . The count is dead." 
 
 Roland sees it, and laments over him full sweet- 
 ly : " Sir comrade, ill were you so bold ! Together 
 we have been for years and days; thou didst me 
 no wrong nor did I wrong thee ; when thou art 
 dead, 'tis grief that I should live." He faints 
 again on his horse ; only his golden stirrups prevent 
 his falling. When he comes back to himself he 
 sees great damage. All the French are killed, save 
 the archbishop, and Walter of Luz, who has been 
 fighting the pagans on the mountains, and has 
 seen all his men killed. He is now fleeing against 
 his will through the valleys, calling on Roland : 
 " Ha ! gentle count, valiant man, where art thou ? 
 Never knew I fear where thou wert. I am that 
 Walter who conquered Maelgut, nephew to Droo,
 
 396 THE " SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 the old and grey-haired ; through vassalage I was 
 wont to be thy favourite. My lance is broken, and 
 pierced is my shield, and my hauberk unmailed 
 and broken ; a spear has struck me through the 
 body; I shall die, but I have sold myself dear." 
 Roland hears him, and returns to the fray. He 
 kills twenty of the enemy, Walter six, the arch- 
 bishop five. A thousand Saracens come down on 
 foot, forty thousand on horseback. They dare no 
 more approach, but from afar they throw lances 
 and spears and darts. Walter falls the first ; then 
 Turpin is wounded in the head, pierced with four 
 spears through the body, his horse killed under 
 him. But quick he leaps up again from the earth, 
 looks for Roland and runs to him: '"I am not 
 vanquished ! a good vassal yields never alive.' He 
 draws Almace, his sword of burnished steel ; in the 
 great fray he strikes a thousand blows and more. 
 Charles said afterwards that he spared none; four 
 hundred were found around him, some wounded, 
 some struck through, some with their heads cut 
 off; so says the geste and he who was in the field, 
 the baron (St.) Giles through whom God makes 
 miracles, who made the charter in Laon minster; 
 who learns not so much has not well understood it. 
 " Count Roland is fighting bravely, but his body 
 is all in sweat and very hot, his head pains him full
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 397 
 
 sore. His temples are burst through his blowing 
 of the horn, but yet he would fain know if Charles 
 will come. He draws the ivory horn, feebly he 
 sounds it. The emperor stood and listened. ' Sirs/ 
 said he, 'full ill it goes with us. Roland my 
 nephew this day fails us ; I hear by his blowing 
 that he will scarcely live more; who would be 
 there, let him ride swiftly; sound your trumpets, 
 as many as are in the host.' Sixty thousand are 
 blown so loud that the mountains resound and the 
 valleys answer. The pagans hear it, they take it 
 not for pleasantry." Four hundred of the best of 
 them rush at once upon Roland. He sees them 
 approach without fear; he and the archbishop 
 have both heard the music of Charles's host. 
 
 " Count Roland never loved a coward, nor a 
 proud man, nor a man of ill parts, nor a knight 
 that were not a good vassal. He called archbishop 
 Turpin : ' Sir, you are afoot, and I am on horseback ; 
 for love of you I will here take my stand ; together 
 will we have the good and the evil; I will not 
 leave you for any fleshly man. We will yet to- 
 day return this assault to the pagans. The blows 
 of the best are those of Durandal.' Said the arch- 
 bishop : ' Felon who shall not strike well ; Charles 
 is coming, who will well avenge us.'" The pagans 
 say amongst themselves that Roland will never be
 
 398 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 vanquished by fleshly man. Once more they fling 
 missiles at them ; Roland's shield is fractured and 
 pierced, his hauberk broken and unmailed, his 
 horse Veillantif wounded in twenty places and 
 killed under him. The pagans now flee towards 
 Spain ; Roland, unhorsed, cannot pursue them. 
 He goes to the aid of the archbishop, unlaces his 
 gilded helmet, takes off his light white hauberk, 
 cuts off his tunic, and puts strips of it in his wounds. 
 Pressing him then to his breast, softly he places 
 him on the green grass, full gently he prays him : 
 " ' Ha, gentle man, now give me my leave ; our 
 companions whom we had so dear, now are they 
 dead ; we should not leave them. I wish to go 
 and fetch them, and place them in order before 
 you.' Said the archbishop : ' Go and return ; this 
 field is yours, thank God, and mine.' Roland re- 
 turns, he goes all alone through the field, he 
 searches the valleys, he searches the hills, he finds 
 Berenger and Otho, he finds Anseis and Samson, 
 he finds old Gerard of Roussillon, one by one the 
 baron has taken them, he has come with them all 
 to the archbishop, he has placed them in a row 
 before his knees. The archbishop cannot forbear 
 weeping ; lifting his hand he gives his blessing, 
 then says : ' 111 was it with you, barons ; God the 
 glorious have all your souls, and place them in
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 399 
 
 Paradise in holy flowers ! my own death so an- 
 guishes me, I shall not see the mighty emperor.'" 
 Roland goes again to search the field, and brings 
 back Oliver pressed against his bosom. He places 
 him on a shield by the others ; the archbishop ab- 
 solves and crosses them. Roland bursts out weep- 
 ing, and falls fainting to the earth. Seeing him 
 faint, the archbishop felt such a woe as never 
 before ; he takes the horn, and goes to fetch water 
 from a runnel in Roncevals. Slowly he goes and 
 tottering ; so feeble is he through loss of blood 
 that before he has gone an acre he falls on his face. 
 Roland, recovering himself, rises to his feet. " He 
 looks below and he looks above ; on the green 
 grass, beyond his comrades, he sees the noble 
 baron lying, the archbishop. . . . Dead is Turpin, 
 Charles's warrior. By great battles, and by full 
 fair sermons, against the paynim he was ever a 
 champion ; God grant him His holy blessing ! 
 
 " Count Roland sees the archbishop on the 
 ground ; out of his body he sees the bowels lying; 
 over his brow his brain is bubbling out;" on his 
 chest " he has crossed his white fair hands. Sorely 
 Roland bewails him, according to the custom of his 
 country : ' Ha, gentle man, debonair knight, this 
 day I commend thee to the glorious Heavenly 
 One ; never shall be man who will more willingly
 
 400 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 serve Him. Since the apostles was never such a 
 prophet to keep the law and to draw men. May 
 never your soul have suffering ! May the gate of 
 Paradise be open to him !'" 
 
 Roland feels that death is near ; by his ears his 
 brain is escaping. He prays God for his peers, and 
 then the angel Gabriel for himself. Taking the 
 ivory horn in one hand, and Durandal in the other, 
 he proceeds to Spain-ward, and ascends a hill, 
 where under a goodly tree are four blocks of 
 marble. Here again he faints away, when a Saracen 
 who feigned himself dead, seizes on him and his 
 arms, exclaiming, 'Vanquished is Charles's nephew! 
 This sword will I carry to Arabia !" But Roland, 
 feeling the sword drawn away, opens his eyes, and 
 with the ivory horn which he had not lost hold of, 
 strikes him such a blow as crushes helmet and 
 head at once, drives the eyes out of their sockets, 
 and stretches the Saracen dead at his feet. " Cow- 
 ard !" said he, " how wert thou so bold as to seize 
 me by right or by wrong ? None shall hear it but 
 shall deem thee a fool." But he has split the thick 
 of the ivory horn, and all the crystal and gold are 
 fallen from it. He perceives that he can see no 
 more. He raises himself however on his feet; 
 before him was a brown rock. He strikes ten 
 blows on it with Durandal. The steel creaks, but
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 401 
 
 does not break. "' Ha, Durandal," he exclaims, 
 " how bright thou art and white ! how thou shinest 
 and flamest against the sun! Charles was in the 
 vale of Maurienne when God from Heaven com- 
 manded him by His angel that he should give 
 thee to a captain ; wherefore the gentle king, the 
 great, did gird thee on me ; with this I conquered 
 him Normandy and Brittany, with this I con- 
 quered him Poitou and Maine, with this I con- 
 quered him Burgundy and Lorraine, with this I 
 conquered him Provence and Aquitain, and Lom- 
 bardy, and all Romania ; with this I conquered 
 him Bavaria and all Flanders, and Alemain and 
 all Apulia, Constantinople, whereof he took the 
 faith, and in Saxony too he did what he demanded ; 
 with this I conquered him Scotland, Wales, Ireland, 
 and England which he held for his chamber ; con- 
 quered have I with this so many countries and 
 lands which Charles holds, the white-bearded, that 
 for this sword I have sorrow and grief. Better to die 
 than that it remain among the paynim. May God 
 the Father not let France be shamed thereby !' . . . 
 " Roland feels that death is passing through 
 him, from his head it descends upon his heart. 
 Beneath a pine-tree he goes running; upon the 
 green grass he lies down on his face, under him he 
 puts his sword and the ivory horn ; he turns his 
 
 VOL. I. DD
 
 402 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 head toward the pagan folk. For this he does 
 it, ... that Charles should say, and all his people, 
 that the gentle count died a conqueror. He con- 
 fesses his sins, minutely and often ... he stretches 
 his right glove toward God ... St. Gabriel took it 
 from his hand. Upon his arm he held his head 
 bowed ; with clasped hands he is gone to his end. 
 God sent His angel cherubim, and St. Michael of 
 the danger ; with them came St. Gabriel ; they 
 bear the count's soul to Paradise."* 
 
 " Dead is Roland ; God has his soul in Heaven. 
 The emperor reaches Roncevals. There is no 
 way nor path, nor of void earth yard nor foot- 
 breadth, but Frenchman or pagan lies there. 
 Charles cries ' Where are you, fair nephew ? where 
 is the archbishop and Count Oliver, where is Gerin 
 and his comrade Gerer, where is Otho and Count 
 Berenger, Ivo and Ivorie whom I held so dear ? 
 What is become of Angelier the Gascon, Samson 
 the duke, and Anseis the baron ? Where is Gerard 
 of Roussillon the old, the twelve peers whom I had 
 left ?' . . . He pulls his beard like a man in wrath ; his 
 
 * The climax of interest in the poem is henceforth past. Yet 
 so entirely, it would seem, for the middle-age reader or hearer, did 
 the fate of the individual hero merge in the larger story of the con- 
 flict between Christian and Mussulman, that two-thirds of the poem 
 still remain. I shall of course abridge still more succinctly from 
 henceforth.
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND. 403 
 
 knight barons weep . . . twenty thousand fall fainting 
 to the ground . . . they weep for their sons, their bro- 
 thers, their nephews, their friends, their liege lords." 
 Naymes advises the king to ride on and take 
 revenge on the pagans. The sun stops in the 
 heavens while the French pursue the fleeing Sara- 
 cens, and drive them into the Ebro. King Marsile 
 however has meanwhile reached Saragossa, from 
 whence he had sent his letters to Baligant the old 
 amiral,* who has survived Virgil and Homer ; 
 Marsile threatens to renounce his faith if not 
 succoured. Baligant leaves Alexandria with a 
 huge fleet, and at last, the day after the battle, 
 reaches Saragossa, of which Marsile sends the keys 
 out to him. Learning what has happened, the 
 amiral rides at once to meet the emperor. 
 
 After a night troubled with evil dreams, Charles 
 had gone out alone in search of his nephew's body ; 
 for he had heard Roland say that were he to die 
 in a strange realm, he would pass beyond his men 
 and his peers, and would have his head turned 
 toward the foemen's country, and would thus 
 end conqueringly (conquer rantment}. As he goes, 
 Charles finds the flowers of all the field red with 
 the blood of "our barons," and cannot forbear 
 weeping. Reaching two trees, he recognises Ro- 
 
 * i. e. Emir-al-mumenim.
 
 404 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 land's blows on three blocks of marble, and sees 
 his nephew lying on the green grass, a sight which 
 makes him faint away. On his return to conscious- 
 ness he begins " so softly" to lament him : " Friend 
 Roland, God have mercy on thee ! never man saw 
 such a knight to wage and end great battles ; my 
 honour is turned to decline !" He tears out his hair 
 by handsful ; a hundred thousand Franks weep to 
 see him. " Friend Roland," he begins again, " I 
 shall go to France ; when I shall be at Laon in my 
 room, from many realms shall come the stranger 
 men, they will ask, ' Where is the count-captain ?' 
 I shall tell them that he is dead in Spain. With 
 great sorrow afterwards shall I hold my realm ; 
 never shall be day that I do not weep and lament 
 for this. Friend Roland, worthy man, fair youth, 
 when I shall be at Aix in my chapel, my men 
 shall come, they will ask me news ; marvellous 
 and evil news shall I tell them ; ' Dead is my 
 nephew who made me conquer so much !' Against 
 me will rebel the Saxons, and Hungarians, and 
 Bulgarians, and so many different nations, Romans, 
 Apulians, and all they of Palermo, and those of 
 
 Africa, and those of Califern Ah France, how 
 
 deserted thou remainest ! So great woe have I 
 that fain would I not be." 
 
 They bury the dead, with absolutions, and in-
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 405 
 
 cense, and great honour. The hearts of Roland 
 and Oliver and Turpin are taken out, put in a 
 cloth and then into a white marble urn ; their 
 bodies are then put into stag-leather, well washed 
 with spice and wine, and placed upon three carts, 
 covered with a cloth. News now comes of the 
 approach of the Saracen vanguard, and two mes- 
 sengers bring the amiral's message of defiance. 
 The battle is now set in array. The French have 
 ten corps of troops ; of the Saracens the geste of 
 the French reckons thirty corps. Before the amiral 
 is borne his dragon, and the standard of Tervagan 
 and Mahound, and an image of Apollo the felon. 
 Great are the hosts and fair the different corps ; 
 between them nor mountain nor valley, nor hill, 
 nor forest, nor wood ; they see each other well 
 amidst the plain. The battle is engaged. The 
 French, greedy of revenge, do wonders, but not 
 without loss ; even Duke Naymes is wounded. 
 Towards evening, beginning to despair of success, 
 the amiral draws out his beard white as flower on 
 thorn, that wherever he goes he may be seen. 
 The two sovereigns meet at last in single combat ; 
 Charles receives a blow on the head which cleaves 
 the helmet and lays bare the bone;, he staggers, 
 he is near to falling, but the angel Gabriel calls to 
 him, " Great king, what doest thou ?" Recovering
 
 406 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 himself, with " the sword of France" he cleaves the 
 amiral in twain with a deadly blow. The pagans 
 now flee, and the French pursue. Great is the 
 heat, and the dust rises ; the pursuit lasts as far as 
 Saragossa. Bramidonie (elsewhere called Brami- 
 mond), Marsile's wife, has mounted to her tower 
 with the clerks and canons of her false law. When 
 she sees the confusion of the Arabs, ' Help us, 
 Mahound!' she exclaims, 'our men are vanquished, 
 the amiral is killed.' On hearing her, Marsile turns 
 to the wall and dies of grief, giving his soul to the 
 devils. The emperor breaks down the gates of 
 Saragossa, and enters the city. A thousand French 
 search the town, "the synagogues and mahoun- 
 dries" (mahumeries) ; with mallets of iron and wood 
 they break the images ; the bishops bless the 
 waters, lead the pagans to baptism ; if any op- 
 pose, he is hung or burnt or killed ; more than 
 a hundred thousand are baptized, all but the queen, 
 who is to be led a prisoner to sweet France, that 
 she may be converted " by love." 
 
 Leaving a garrison in Saragossa, the emperor 
 now departs. At Bordeaux, on the altar he places 
 the ivory horn full of gold ; pilgrims see it who go 
 there. To Blaye he takes his nephew and Oliver 
 and the archbishop, has them put in white tombs ; 
 they lie there in St. Roman's. He tarries not till
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND. 407 
 
 he reaches Aix, and as soon as arrived sends to 
 summon "his judgers," Bavarians and Saxons, 
 Lorrainers and Frisians, Germans, Burgundians, 
 men of Poitou, Normans and Bretons, and those 
 of France. Then begins the trial of Ganilo. 
 
 But as Charlemain enters the hall, " to him comes 
 Alda, a fair damsel. Said she to the king : ' Where 
 is Roland the captain, who swore to take me for 
 his mate?' Charles has sorrow and grief for the 
 saying, he weeps with his eyes, he pulls his white 
 beard : ' Sister, dear friend, thou askest me of a 
 dead man ! I will give thee a full weighty ex- 
 change for him, this is Louis, I cannot say more, 
 he is my son and will hold my marches.' Alda 
 answers : ' This word is strange to me. May it not 
 please God, nor His saints, nor His angels, that 
 after Roland I remain alive !' She loses her colour, 
 she falls at Charlemain's feet, she is dead for ever ; 
 God have mercy on her soul ! The French barons 
 weep and lament over her." Charles summons 
 four countesses; they bear her to a convent of 
 nuns, watch her all night till the day break, bury 
 her fairly by an altar. " Full great honour the 
 king has done her." 
 
 Ganilo the felon, in chains of iron, is before the 
 palace, bound to a stake by serfs who tie his hands 
 with straps of stag-leather, and beat him with
 
 408 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 sticks. When the barons assemble, Charles has him 
 brought before him. ' Lord barons,' says he, 'judge 
 me Ganilo.' " ' He was in the host with me as far 
 as into Spain ; he took from me twenty thousand of 
 my French, and my nephew whom ye shall never 
 see, and Oliver the brave and the courteous ; the 
 twelve peers has he betrayed for money.' Said 
 Ganilo : 'A felon be I if I hide it ; Roland wronged 
 me in gold and in goods, wherefore I sought his 
 death and his ruin ; but no treason do I grant' .... 
 Before the king stood there Ganilo ; a lusty body 
 has he, a pleasant colour on his face ; were he loyal, 
 he had well resembled a baron" . . . He cried aloud : 
 " ' For God's love hearken to me, barons ; I was in 
 the host with the emperor, I served him by faith 
 and by love. Roland his nephew took me into his 
 hatred, and so adjudged me to death and to grief. 
 I was messenger to king Marsile ; by my know- 
 ledge I got clear; I defied Roland the fighter and 
 Oliver and all their comrades ; Charles heard it 
 and his noble barons ; I have avenged myself of 
 them, but there is no treason.' ". . . . There are as- 
 sembled thirty of Ganilo's barons, who all obey 
 one, Pinabel of Sorence castle, a good vassal who 
 can both speak and fight, who has undertaken to 
 give the lie at the sword's point to any who should 
 condemn Ganilo. The barons consult together ;
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND. 409 
 
 they decide upon praying the king to quit-claim 
 Ganilo for this once, that he may serve him faith- 
 fully hereafter. Roland is dead and will be seen 
 no more ; it would be folly to fight. Only Thierry, 
 brother of Lord Geoffrey of Anjou, holds out 
 against this decision. It is however carried to 
 Charlemain, whose visage darkens on receipt of it. 
 But Thierry comes forward, a knight spare of 
 body and slim, black-haired, brown-eyed, not very 
 tall, nor yet too short. Courteously he bids the 
 emperor not trouble himself. Ganilo is a felon for 
 having betrayed Roland ; he has perjured himself 
 against the king. Wherefore Thierry adjudges him 
 to be hung, and his body burnt as a felon. If any 
 of Ganilo's kin will give him the lie, he is ready 
 to warrant his judgment. Well said ! reply the 
 Franks. Pinabel takes up his kinsman's quarrel ; 
 gloves are given ; Ogier of Denmark proclaims the 
 appeal of battle to be in due form. They fight in 
 a meadow before Aix. After many a stout stroke, 
 Pinabel offers to become Thierry's man " by love 
 and by faith," if he will reconcile Ganilo to the 
 king. Thierry replies by offering to reconcile 
 Pinabel with Charlemain if he renounces the battle. 
 Each refuses ; Thierry receives at last a' blow which 
 cuts his face open, but replies to it by another 
 which cleaves Pinabel's head in two and strikes
 
 4IO THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 him dead. The emperor comes and takes Thierry 
 in his arms, wiping his face with his great sable 
 furs. Pinabel's pledges, thirty of Ganilo's kinsmen, 
 are hung on a tree ; Ganilo is sentenced to be torn 
 to pieces by horses. Bramimond is next baptized 
 under the name of Juliana. 
 
 But at night, while the king is lying in bed in 
 his vaulted chamber, St. Gabriel comes from God 
 to bid him summon all his hosts, that he may go 
 into the land of Syria, to the succour of king 
 Vivian, who is besieged by the pagans. Fain would 
 the emperor not go. 
 
 " ' God !' said the king, ' so painful is my life !' 
 He weeps with his eyes, he pulls his white beard. 
 Here ends the story (geste) that Turold related." 
 
 II. ORIGIN, DATE, INFLUENCE, AND CHARACTER 
 OF THE POEM. 
 
 EVERY work of art or literature must bear more or 
 less the impress of the ideas of its time ; how much 
 more so one which addressed itself essentially to 
 the popular feeling, which was sung before it was 
 written, which was to earn the bread of the wander-
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND. 411 
 
 ing minstrel for him ! I think we may fairly say 
 that the " Song of Roland" bears internal evidence 
 of its antiquity, and I suspect also, of its origin. 
 It stands quite apart from all subsequent epics in 
 its glorification of Charlemagne. Its hero-worship 
 is perfectly genuine ; it is not merely for show that 
 the exploits of Roland and his peers are described ; 
 the feeling all through is that of intense reverence 
 towards them. Again, it is brutal, but it is also 
 singularly simple and pure. The marvels which 
 abound in it are told with almost childlike honesty; 
 and, very different from later works of the kind, 
 not a coarse word occurs in it, if I mistake not, 
 from the first page to the last. All these features 
 are characteristic of a young, half-savage race, pure 
 of manners, which has not yet outgrown the recol- 
 lection of its great men. Now this was precisely 
 the case with the Normans of the eleventh century. 
 To the feudal barons of the rest of France, who 
 had newly cast off the Carlovingian yoke, the re- 
 collection of Charlemagne must have been irksome 
 rather than otherwise. For the Norman on the 
 contrary, the remembrance of Rollo served to 
 hallow the name of Charlemagne : new converts to 
 Christianity, they had all the fervour of such ; and 
 there is nothing more striking in the story of the 
 battle of Hastings than the picture of the Normans
 
 412 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 passing the battle-watch in prayer and the Saxons 
 in revelry. Above all, they were essentially, as 
 compared with the Saxons on the one hand, with 
 the French on the other, a new race, lovers of the 
 marvellous, and in spite of occasional outbursts of 
 lust, certainly retaining much of Norse purity of 
 manners.* 
 
 We may therefore, I think, fairly look upon 
 the Song of Roland as a Norman poem of the 
 eleventh century. M. Genin in one passage goes 
 farther, and from grammatical resemblances to a 
 certain translation of the book of Kings, which 
 belongs to the end of the tenth century, treats it as 
 contemporary with the latter work. His theory is 
 that it was written by a certain Theroulde, tutor of 
 William the Conqueror, and that the Oxford MS., 
 after passing through Taillefer's own hands, was 
 deposited in his MS. chest by a second Theroulde, 
 abbot of Peterborough, who died in 1098. We 
 need not follow him through his ingenious chain 
 of hypotheses, f But it is nevertheless true that 
 in many respects the Song of Roland seems to 
 bear the marks of an authorship more cultivated 
 than that of later epics of the kind. There are 
 
 * It will be seen that I draw precisely opposite conclusions to 
 F. Schlegel's, from the fact of Norman authorship. 
 
 f See also the Preface to M. Michel's edition as to various 
 Turolds or Thorolds.
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 413 
 
 none of those appeals to the public, as one might 
 call them, which generally open the latter, and are 
 largely scattered through them. There is more 
 brevity, more artistic symmetry of plan. In the 
 account of nature's mourning for Roland, M. Ge- 
 nin even sees a reminiscence of the passage in 
 Virgil's Georgics, describing the omens of Caesar's 
 death. 
 
 On the other hand two things appear to me to 
 be clear, Firstly, we have not before us the origi- 
 nal text, secondly, we have not before us the first 
 work of its kind. 
 
 That we have not before us the original text 
 seems to me to be proved by the repetitions which 
 occur in most of the leading passages, which are 
 given two or three times over with slight variations of 
 detail. Whatever M. Genin may say to the contrary, 
 I have not a doubt myself that, in the case before 
 us as in others, the variations frequently represent 
 chronological differences, and distinct rifaccimenti. 
 Thus, in the three versions of Roland's death, there 
 seems to me to be a clear gradation of treatment. 
 The first (which I have chiefly followed) is mainly 
 heroic ; it dwells on Roland's turning his face towards 
 the foe ; his religious performances are disposed of 
 in two lines : ' He proclaimed his guilt, minutely 
 and often ; for his sins he offered the glove.' The
 
 414 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 second is specially religious, and brings in angels. 
 The third is sentimental as well ; it tells us the 
 hero's last thoughts, it introduces a little Biblical 
 lore, it names the angels who come down to 
 Roland.* In my own belief, the first account, 
 
 * 1st 2nd 
 
 "Roland feels that "Roland feels that " Count Roland lies 
 death is passing his time is no more, beneath a pine-tree, 
 through him ; from his Towards Spain he is Towards Spain he has 
 head it descends upon on a sharp peak ; with turned his face ; he 
 his heart. Beneath a one hand he has beaten begins to remember 
 pine-tree he has gone his breast : ' God, my many things, so 
 running, on the green guilt towards Thy vir- many lands which 
 grass he has laid him- tues, of the sins, the the baron conquered, 
 self on his face, under great and the small, sweet France, the 
 him he puts his sword that I have done since men of his race, 
 and the ivory horn ; he the hour that I was Charlemain his lord 
 turns his head toward born to this day that who nourished him ; 
 the Pagan folk. For I have reached. ' His he cannot refrain from 
 this he has done it, right glove he has weeping and sighing ; 
 that he wishes truly stretched toward God ; but himself ' he will 
 that Charles may say angels of heaven de- not forget ; he pro- 
 and all his people, the scend to him." claims his guilt, he 
 
 gentle count, that he prays mercy of God : 
 
 died a conqueror. He ' True Father, who 
 
 proclaimed his guilt, never didst lie, who 
 
 minutely and often ; didst raise St. Lazarus 
 
 for his sins he offered from the dead, and 
 
 the glove of it. didst save Daniel from 
 
 the lions, save my 
 soul from thy perils 
 for the sins which I 
 did in my life. ' His 
 right glove he offered
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 415 
 
 completed by a single line, placed after the two 
 others : " Dead is Roland ; God has his soul in 
 Heaven," represents the original text, whilst the 
 two others correspond to different historical stages 
 of feeling and development. Perhaps half a century 
 would not be too long a period to span the interval 
 between the first and the last. 
 
 On the other hand, I am strongly impressed 
 with the feeling that the text before us, with its 
 latest incrustations of thought, belongs to a period 
 certainly anterior to the first crusade, i.e. cannot be 
 older than about the third quarter of the eleventh 
 century. The feelings which originated the crusades 
 breathe all through it ; the actual idea of crusading 
 in the east is scarcely hinted at except at the last ; 
 and that idea is one that so entirely took hold of 
 the mind of Christendom when it was put forth, 
 
 to God; St. Gabriel 
 has taken it from his 
 hand. On his arm he 
 held his head bowed, 
 with raised hands he 
 has gone to his end. 
 God sent His angel 
 cherubim, and St. 
 Michael of the dan- 
 ger ; with them came 
 St. Gabriel ; they bear 
 the count's soul to 
 Paradise.
 
 416 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 that I cannot believe it to have been current with- 
 out leaving its mark strongly fixed on a popular 
 work like this. And I am equally disposed to fix 
 the date of the text before even the conquest of 
 England ; because (assuming the work to be Nor- 
 man) that event was also one so great that it must 
 have printed itself on all contemporary popular 
 heroids. Frequent allusions to Southern Italy and 
 Sicily seem to me to mark that the Norman ex- 
 ploits in Sicily were then recent ; whilst two allu- 
 sions to the conquest by Roland of England, of 
 which Charlemagne " made his chamber," seem to 
 me precisely to indicate that state of feeling prior 
 to the conquest, when the Normans simply coveted 
 England, and sought pleas for winning it. On the 
 whole, therefore, I am not indisposed to think that 
 the different versions which M. Genin's text repre- 
 sents correspond to a period stretching from about 
 1010 to about 1060. 
 
 But again : the work before us does not repre- 
 sent the absolute birth of a literature. " Songs," 
 by which poems such as the present may well be 
 intended, appear in it already as an actual power 
 in the world of chivalry. "Let no evil song be 
 sung of us," forms part of Roland's reply to Oliver, 
 when he first bids him sound his horn. He repeats 
 the same thing when the French are attacked by
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 417 
 
 the main body of Marsile's army; archbishop 
 Turpin uses soon afterwards the same argument 
 Nor does the poem pretend to be original. It 
 professes on the contrary to be founded on existing 
 histories. " It is written in the geste of the Franks 
 (en la geste f rancor)", says Roland, "that our. 
 emperor has vassals (indeed)." Of those whom the 
 three champions killed, there were, "it is written 
 in charters and briefs, says the geste, more than 
 four thousand." Round Turpin alone there were 
 four hundred : " so says the geste, and he who was 
 at the field, Giles the baron, through whom God 
 makes miracles, and who made the charter at the 
 minster of Laon." Of the Saracens at the battle 
 after Roland's death "the geste of the Franks 
 numbers thirty troops." Again, for the trial of 
 Ganilo, " it is written in the old geste that Charles 
 summoned men from many lands." 
 
 What was the geste thus referred to ? Not the 
 celebrated chronicle known as that of the false 
 Turpin, since the poem represents the supposed 
 author of it as having been killed himself on the 
 field of Roncevaux. I need not dwell here on 
 M. G^nin's ingenious and indeed almost demonstra- 
 tive argument, that the real author of this chronicle 
 was in fact Guy of Burgundy, afterwards Pope 
 Calixtus II. (1050 1124). But evidently, so mate- 
 
 VOL. I. EE
 
 4l8 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 rial a variation of the original theme could not 
 have been ventured upon, whilst that was still in 
 the full blaze of its popularity. Consequently, 
 since 1092 is the period when we see the Turpin 
 chronicle first put forward, the presumption is, that 
 the old song of Roland was already getting out of 
 date. If we allow a period of seventy-five years, 
 or the length of a long life, for this to take place, 
 we shall find ourselves led back, by an altogether 
 different chain of reasoning, to the first quarter of 
 the eleventh century as the date of the full popu- 
 larity of the earlier legend, and of the probable 
 first composition of the present text, or to just 
 about the time before assigned, but with a geste of 
 unknown antiquity behind, of which only the far- 
 off wellspring can be dimly discerned in that Mero- 
 vingian Roncevaux pointed out by M. Paris. 
 
 Notwithstanding Pope Calixtus's damning of 
 those who should listen to the 'lying songs of 
 jonglours] M. Genin shows that Turold's work 
 must have been familiar to the authors of two of 
 the leading epics of the twelfth and thirteenth 
 centuries, ' Agolant' and ' Gerard of Viana ;' to 
 ' Priest Conrad,' writer of a German ' Lay of 
 Roland' (Ruolandes Liet), edited by Grimm, and 
 which must have been composed between 1173 
 and 1177 ;* to Sostegna de Zanobi, author of the 
 
 * The writer states that the work had been translated from
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 419 
 
 Italian poem of the fourteenth century called " la 
 Spagna." He points out also some striking re- 
 semblances between Turold's poem and the famous 
 Spanish " Cid." The French versions of it descend 
 to the fourteenth century, each amplifying and 
 weakening the original. The popularity of the 
 Carlovingian legends in Italy has been something 
 almost incredible. Thus in a curious Italian pam- 
 phlet of the year 1850, " Cenno critico intorno ad 
 alcuni costumi ed usi dei Napoletani," by G. Ro- 
 bello, it is stated how the writer, going after dinner 
 to walk near the Mole at Naples, stopped to listen 
 to the story of the exploits of Charlemain and his 
 paladins, as told by an itinerant litterateur; ob- 
 serving that whilst, of the various groups of story- 
 tellers and listeners scattered on the Mole, in a few 
 only was read and explained the " Gerusalemme 
 Liberata," the greater number were occupied with 
 the great adventures of Roland, Roger, Rinaldo, 
 Bradamante, spiced with innumerable marvels. 
 
 French into Latin, and thence into German, by the wish of the 
 daughter of a Duke Henry, who is supposed to have been Henry 
 the Lion, 1173 7- Conrad must have had, Grimm supposes with 
 M. Genin (and an inspection of the poem seems to me necessarily to 
 lead to the same conclusion), Turold's very work before him, but 
 also, Grimm thinks, another poem on the same subject ; which 
 surmise, if correct, would supply another argument in favour of the 
 pre-existing geste. It is observable that the poem ends with the 
 punishment of Ganilo.
 
 420 THE "SONG OF ROLAND." 
 
 And he grumbles at the Italians for having grown 
 so enamoured of a foreign prince, that since the 
 prose compilation called the "Reali di Francia," 
 his exploits should have afforded a subject to 
 more than forty poems, over and above songs and 
 legends.* 
 
 The real beauty of Turold's poem needs surely 
 no commendation. All his characters are thrown 
 off with the most perfect vigour, and detach them- 
 selves quite distinctly on our mind's eye. In the 
 treatment of Ganilo in particular there is very con- 
 siderable subtlety ; no pains seem to have been 
 spared by the poet in trying to avoid making him 
 a mere stage villain. He is strong and handsome ; 
 he can put on all the semblance of courage, if he 
 has not the reality of it ; he is adroit to a degree. 
 This is brought out with peculiar success in the 
 history of his embassy, and in that remarkable 
 
 * In the appendices to M. Francisque Michel's edition of the 
 Chanson de Roland will be found the Basque song of Alta-bi9ar, 
 a Latin poem (one of our Cotton MSS.) and fragments on the rout 
 of Roncevaux ; a collection of Spanish romances on the same sub- 
 ject, with an indication of other Spanish poems and dramatic pieces 
 relating to it ; a list of similar Italian poems ; a summary and 
 fragments of an English poem, (a fourteenth century Lansdowne 
 MS.) ; an analysis of the German poems by Priest Conrad and by 
 Striker; an extract from the Danish prose "Chronicle of Kaisar 
 Charlemain"; a reference to an Icelandic Saga, and finally the 
 indication of some French prose romances partly treating of the 
 same subject.
 
 THE "SONG OF ROLAND. 421 
 
 scene with Marsile, where Ganilo lets the Saracen 
 gradually worm out of him the treason which he 
 is predetermined to commit Apart from the de- 
 lineation of character, we find the poet always 
 rising to the height of his argument. In his de- 
 scription of the great slaughter of Roncevaux he 
 is as tragic, if not as awful, as the author of the 
 Nibelungenlied in describing the carnage at Etzel's 
 court. The great fault in the poem lies in the 
 climax of interest occurring so long before the end ; 
 otherwise, in point of condensation, in the keeping 
 of the characters, in the natural sequency of the 
 story, in the nobleness of the argument, it is far 
 superior to the German masterpiece itself, though 
 falling short of it in variety of interest, and through 
 the absence of female characters all but the one 
 touching glimpse of Alda. It may be said to be, 
 in short, more heroic, and less human, than the 
 Nibelungenlied ; and because less human, therefore 
 inferior.
 
 APPENDIX* 
 
 THE CHRONICLE OF TURPIN (De vita Caroli magni et 
 Rolandi). 
 
 This work has so greatly influenced the poetical 
 literature of the middle ages, that it may not be out 
 of place to give the headings of its chapters, with a 
 few occasional details as to their contents. I borrow 
 them from Ciampi's edition of 1822 (Florence, 8vo.). 
 
 I. Incipit historia famosissimi Caroli Magni, quando tellurem 
 hispanicam et galletianam a potestate Saracenorum liberavit. 
 
 II. De muris Pampilonise per semetipsos lapsis. 
 
 III. Nomina villarum et urbium quas acquisivit Carolus in 
 Hispania. 
 
 IV. De idolo Mahumet. 
 
 V. De ecclesiis quas Carolus fecit. 
 
 VI. De reditu Caroli ad Galliam et de Aigolando (i. e. Agolant) 
 rege Aphricanorum. 
 
 VII. Terribile exemplum de non retinendis eleemosynis. 
 
 VIII. De bello Sancti Facundi ubi hastae viruerunt. 
 
 IX. Venit Carolus ad Aigolandum in specie nuntii ut videat 
 Aigolandum et exploret urbem Agensii, quam et cepit, fugato 
 Aigolando cum multis regibus. 
 
 X. De urbe Santonica ubi hastse viruerunt. 
 
 XI. De fuga Aigolandi et de militibus exercituum Caroli. 
 
 XII. Hsec sunt nomina pugnatorum majorum qui fuere cum eo 
 [enumerates Roland, Oliver, 'Estulfuss,' 'Arastagnus' king of the 
 
 See p. 363.
 
 424 APPENDIX. 
 
 Britons, 'Englerius' (Engelier), Gaifier, 'Gelerus,' 'Galinus,' Salo- 
 mon comrade of ' Estulfus,' Baldwin uterine brother of Roland, 
 ' Aldebodus' king of Frisia, Arnald of Berlande (Beaulande), Naman 
 (Naymes) duke of Bavaria, Ogier duke of Dacia, ' Oellus' count of 
 Nantes, Lambert prince of Berry, Constantine Prefect of Rome, 
 Rainald of Albo Spino (Montauban), Walter of Thermes, William, 
 Garin duke of Lorraine, Rogo, Guinard, 'Esturnutus,' Tederic, 
 Berengard, Atto, Ganalon (Ganilo), Ivo, and Samson duke of 
 Burgundy]. 
 
 XIII. De datis treugis et de disputatione Caroli et Aigolandi. 
 
 XIV. De ordinibus qui fuerunt in convivio Caroli, et de pauper- 
 ibus, unde Aigolandus scandalum sumpsit et renuit baptizari [the 
 Saracen is represented as refusing to be christened through seeing 
 the ill-treatment of the poor in Charles's host ; whereupon the 
 emperor begins to treat them liberally]. 
 
 XV. De bello Pampilonensi et de morte Aigolandi. 
 
 XVI. Quidam Christiani revertentes ad spolia cupiditatis causa 
 trucidantur. 
 
 XVII. De bello Furcse. 
 
 XVIII. Pugnant Rolandus et Ferracutus qui vincitur ac peri- 
 mitur a Rolando, primum disputatione facta de fide. 
 
 XIX. De bello Larvarum. 
 
 XX. De concilio Caroli et profectione ejus ad Sanctum Jacobum. 
 
 XXI. De persona et fortitudine Caroli [he is represented as 
 eight feet high, measured by his own feet, qui erant longissimi, with 
 a palm and a half of face, a palm of beard, forehead a foot broad, 
 eyes as a lion's or as carbuncles, eyebrows a half palm between, 
 waist eight palms of span. He would eat a quarter of a sheep, or 
 two fowls, or a duck, or a peacock, or a crane, or a whole hare ; 
 drank little wine at meat ; could cleave a man and horse at one 
 stroke ; could raise a man in armour on his palm from the ground 
 to the height of his head]. 
 
 XXII. De proditione Ganaloni et de bello Roncievallis. 
 
 XXIII. De passione Rolandi et morte Marsini (Marsile) et de 
 fuga Belrigandi (Baligant). 
 
 [It is from the previous chapter that a resemblance to Turold's 
 ' Song of Roland' becomes perceptible. It is here close, such as
 
 THE CHRONICLE OF TURPIN. 425 
 
 the striking by Roland of his sword ' Durrenda' upon ' petroneum 
 marmoreum,' i. e. the 'perron marbrin' of the poet. The address of 
 Roland to his sword affords perhaps the most favourable sample of 
 the pseudo-Turpin's style. I abridge it, as it is evidently borrowed 
 from a poetical text already cumbered with repetition : 
 
 "O pulcherrime gladius, non. . . furibunde, sed semper lucidissime, 
 longitudine decentissime, latitudine congrue, fortitudine firmissime, 
 manu-tenente eburneo candidissime, cruce aurea splendidissime, 
 superficie deaurate, pomo berillo decorate, litteris clarissimis magni 
 nominis Dei A et G sculpte, acumine legitime, Dei virtute circum- 
 date, quis amplius tua virtute erit usus ? quis amplius te possidebit ? 
 
 quis te habebit ? Per* te Saraceni destruuntur, gens perfida 
 
 perimitur, lex Christiana exaltatur, laus Dei et gloria et celeberrima 
 fama acquiritur. O quoties Domini nostri Jesu Christi sanguinem 
 per te vindicavi ! . . . Quot vicibus per te aut Judaeum perfidum 
 aut Saracenum peremi ! . . . . Nullatenus vivere poterit qui a te 
 vulneratus aliquantulum extitit ; si miles ignarus aut piger te habuit, 
 nimis ex hoc doleo ; si Saracenus aut alius perfidus te tetigit, valde 
 doleo." 
 
 The poem is exactly followed in the story of the three strokes, 
 which only break the marble]. 
 
 XXIV. De sonitu tubae et confessione et transitu Rolandi [tells, 
 as in the poem, of Roland's bursting his vein in blowing the horn, 
 of his being heard by Charlemain, of Ganilo's detaining the latter. 
 But inasmuch as Turpin is necessarily away from the battle, it is 
 Baldwin who brings water to Roland and blesses him. By Thierry's 
 advice, Roland confesses his sins at great length, and prays also at 
 great length for those who are dead in the war], 
 
 XXV. De visione Turpini episcopi, et de lamentatione Caroli 
 super morte Rolandi [At the mass of the dead, Turpin being rapt in 
 ecstacy sees Marsile's soul carried to hell, and Roland's to heaven. 
 Charles's lament over Roland is again one of the finer passages of 
 the book : " O alti nominis, O brachium dextrum corporis mei, 
 O barba optima, decus Gallorum, spata justitiae, hasta inflexibilis, 
 lorica incorruptibilis, galea salvationis, Judae Machabeo probitate 
 comparatus, &c., &c., cur te in his oris adduxi? cur mortuum te 
 video? cur non morior tecum ?" &c.].
 
 426 APPENDIX. 
 
 XXVI. De hoc quod sol stetit spatio trium dierum. Exercitus 
 Caroli adspectat martyres de Roncievalli per diversa loca sepeliendos, 
 et Ganalonus proditor nece damnatur. [Oliver is found crucified on 
 the field. The fight between Pinabel and Thierry, and the execution 
 of Ganilo, are related much as in the ' Song of Roland']. 
 
 XXVII. De corporibus mortuorum sale et aromatibus condi- 
 torum. 
 
 XXVIII. De duobus coemeteriis sacrosanctis, uno apud Are- 
 latem, altero apud Blavium. 
 
 XXIX. De sepultura Rolandi et cseterorum qui apud Belinum 
 et diversis locis sepulti sunt. 
 
 XXX. De his qui sepulti sunt apud urbem Arelatem in Aylis 
 Campis. 
 
 XXXI. De concilio quod apud beatum Dionysium Carolus 
 adunavit. 
 
 XXXII. De morte Caroli. 
 
 No unprejudiced person can entertain the slightest 
 doubt about the character of Turpin's Chronicle. It is 
 the attempt of an unscrupulous clergy to adapt popular 
 legends to its own purposes, one exactly similar to that 
 which in our own days, in French and Belgian editions 
 of 'Uncle Tom's Cabin,' transformed Uncle Tom into 
 a pious Roman Catholic, and directed all his prayers 
 to the Virgin Mary. In order to compete with the lay 
 minstrel, the clerical falsifier stuffs the legend well with 
 marvels ; but being utterly devoid of imagination, he can 
 only supply these at second-hand, mostly by travesties 
 from Holy Scripture, as the fall of the walls of Pampe- 
 luna, or the standing still of the sun for the return of 
 the army, or the sprouting of the spears. The pious 
 outpourings of his heroes are of the most wordy and 
 tedious description, and the only moral duty which he 
 seems anxious to inculcate is that of almsgiving.
 
 THE CHRONICLE OF TURPIN. 427 
 
 It would perhaps be too much to say that the Pseudo- 
 Turpin blighted the development of the Carlovingian 
 epic; that without it, the 'Song of Roland' must have 
 been succeeded by some masterpiece of world-wide re- 
 nown. If the French epical school had not, by the end of 
 the eleventh century (when the Pseudo-Turpin appeared), 
 contained already within it the germs of dissolution and 
 death, it never could have been ruined by a work in 
 itself so feeble. But it would be impossible for us pro- 
 bably now to over-estimate the effect of such a work, 
 coming out under ecclesiastical patronage, pandering at 
 once to popular tastes and to superstitious feelings, and 
 eventually placed audaciously by a Pope, whom we 
 may presume to have had at least a hand in its com- 
 position, on the rank of the Canonical books. That the 
 low fraudulence of Rome must have inflicted a grievous 
 blow on the literature of France by thus forcing her 
 monkish trash into the place of the simple and earnest 
 song of old Turold, we cannot doubt on comparing the 
 two, even though we may not feel convinced that his 
 mantle might otherwise have fallen on a successor en- 
 dowed with a double portion of his spirit. 
 
 END OF VOLUME I.
 
 118708 
 
 CAMBRIDGE : J. PALMER, PRINTER, SIDNEY STREET.