Now, on the further Rhine-bank, came with a numerous band
The king and his guests with him, and drew nigh to the strand.
One saw, too, by the rein led, full many a maiden’s steed.
For those who should receive them to wait they had no need.

For when the folk of Iceland unto the ship were led⁠—
And eke the Niblung people who Siegfried followèd⁠—
They put across the water, with quick, unwearied hand,
To where, upon the quay-side, they saw the king’s friends stand.

Now hearken to my story! I’ll tell you how the Queen
Uté, the rich queen-mother, was with her maidens seen,
Forth coming from the castle, whence she herself did ride.
Then many an acquaintance ’twixt knight and maid was tied.

Kriemhilda’s palfrey led was by Gere the Margrave
As far as the fort gateway, where Siegfried, warrior brave,
Must thenceforth wait upon her;⁠— she was a lovely maid!
And he by this fair lady was, later, well repaid.

Alongside Lady Uté, Ortwein the bold rode he,
With many knights and maidens who bare them company.
Ne’er at a great reception, we must confess, had been
So great a throng of ladies as here together seen.

And many a fair encounter took place amid the train
Of praise-deserving heroes, (they could not well refrain)
Before the fair Kriemhilda, until the ship they reach.
Then from their palfreys lift they, the well-dight ladies each.

The king had now cross’d over, and many a guest of worth.
Hey! what stout shafts were shiver’d for these fair ladies’ mirth!
One heard the hurtling tumult, as lance on buckler rang,
Ay, and the rich shield-bosses that in the press did clang!

The fair ones now were standing the landing-place upon;⁠—
With all his guests had Gunther up from the vessel gone;
He led the Lady Brunhild with his own royal hand.
Then shone against each other bright gems and garments grand.

With courtly grace Dame Kriemhild did thereupon repair
To where the Lady Brunhild and all her courtiers were.
One saw them push their chaplets with their white fingers by,
What time they kissed each other: ’twas done in courtesy.

Then spake the maid Kriemhilda, and fittingly spake she:
“To us in this our country right welcome may you be;
To me, and to my mother, as unto ev’ry friend
Whom we as faithful reckon.” Then each did lowly bend.

The dames each other greeted with clasp of hand and arm,
No one had ever heard of a welcoming so warm.
As soon as the two ladies the bride for certain wist,
Dame Uté and her daughter her sweet mouth often kiss’d.

When all Brunhilda’s ladies had lighted on the strand,
They tenderly were greeted, and taken by the hand.
For many a well-dight woman there was a warrior good;
And many beauteous maidens with Dame Brunhilda stood.

Before their greeting ended a good long hour had sped;
Ay, and the lips, like roses, were kiss’d of many a maid.
Still stood by one another those two kings’ daughters bright⁠—
To many a valiant hero they were a lovely sight.

With their own eyes beheld they, who often told had been
That no such peerless beauty had ever yet been seen
As that of these two ladies: it now was plain to view;⁠—
One saw, too, on their bodies naught in the least untrue.

Those who could judge of women and on fair forms decide,
Did laud and praise for beauty the royal Gunther’s bride.
But others⁠—they were wise men with more discerning eyes⁠—
Said, that from Dame Brunhilda Kriemhilda won the prize.

Now dame and maid were walking, each other opposite,
And many a lovely body one saw right nobly dight.
And many a rich pavilion and silken tent were there:
The plain that Worms surrounded was crowded everywhere.

The kinsmen of King Gunther came thronging thereunto.
Brunhilda and Kriemhilda were thither bade to go
And take with them their ladies⁠— where they in shade could stand.
There, with them, came the nobles of the Burgundian land.

Meanwhile upon their chargers the guests were all a-field,
And many a doughty lance-thrust was caught upon the shield.
The plain with dust was smoking⁠— as though the very earth
In flames would soon be bursting: now heroes show’d their worth.

Upon these knightly doings looked many a maiden’s eye.
I doubt not that Sir Siegfried full many a time rode by
The tents, as with his liegemen he back and forward sped.
A thousand gallant warriors from Nibelung he led.

Then Hagen, lord of Tronjé, at his host’s bidding went,
And courteously the hero did close the tournament⁠—
Lest by the dust besprinkled the beauteous maids should be.
This order by the guests was obey’d good-humouredly.

Then spake the noble Gernot: “Let now the horses rest.
As soon as it grows cooler we knights will do our best
To please these lovely ladies, before the palace wide.
Let everyone be ready whene’er the king will ride.”

When all the wide field over the tournament was stayed,
For pastime went the heroes beneath the tall tents’ shade,
To parley with the ladies⁠— on mirth and pleasure bent;
Thus, till ’twas time for riding, their leisure hours were spent.

But when it grew towards even and near the sun’s last ray⁠—
Seeing the air was cooler⁠— they would no more delay.
Then many a knight and lady toward the castle rode.
On many a beauteous woman were loving looks bestow’d.

And now they raced for raiment such as good knights do wear,
These highly-mettled warriors⁠— as was the custom there⁠—
Until they reach’d the palace; there did the king dismount,
And they the ladies aided as gallant knights be wont.

Now, too, the royal ladies did from each other part.
Queen Uté and her daughter together did depart,
With all their court-attendants, unto a chamber wide.
Then shouts of joy and laughter were heard on ev’ry side.

The seats being set in order, the royal Gunther would
Go with his guests to supper; ’twas seen how by him stood
The beautiful Brunhilda; and now a crown she wore,
As queen in her king’s kingdom;⁠— well worth was she therefore.

Fine seats were set for many, by tables broad and good⁠—
As we have been assurèd⁠— laid with abundant food.
Of all that they could wish for how little lack was seen!
And with the king was many a guest of lordly mien.

The host’s own body-servants, in ewers of red gold,
Did fetch and carry water. If you should e’er be told
That at a prince’s wedding the service was more fit,
’Twould trouble me but little⁠— I’d put no faith in it!

Before the great Rhine ruler did of the water take,
Sir Siegfried went unto him a due request to make:
To warn him of his promise, which he, by his right hand
Pledged, ere he saw Brunhilda at home in Isenland.

He spake: “You must remember, you swore by your right hand,
If ever Dame Brunhilda should come to this your land,
You’d give to me your sister; now what hath got your oath?
Much trouble with your journey I’ve taken, nothing loth.”

Then to his guest the king said: “Thou didst right well to speak;⁠—
What on my hand I swore you, that oath I will not break.
As best I can, I’ll help you to bring about this thing.”
Then was Kriemhilda summon’d to court before the king.

With all her beauteous maidens she came unto the hall.
Then, from a dais springing, young Giselher did call:
“Bid all these other damsels return, for verily
No other than my sister here with the king shall be.”

They brought the Lady Kriemhild to where the king did stand,
With noble knights around him from many a prince’s land.
In the wide hall they bade her stand quietly alone;⁠—
Meanwhile the Lady Brunhild had to the banquet gone.

Thereon did speak King Gunther: “Dear sister, noble maid,
I trust unto thy goodness to let mine oath be paid.
I’ve pledged thee to a warrior; should he become thy lord,
By thy true faith and duty thou wilt have kept my word!”

Then spake the noble maiden: “Belovèd brother mine,
Thou shouldst not thus beseech me; my will is ever thine
To do as thou commandest; what thou hast will’d, shall be:
I’ll take, my lord, for husband, him whom thou giv’st to me.”

At her dear eyes’ kind glances all red grew Siegfried’s face;
At Dame Kriemhilda’s service the knight himself did place.
They twain then must together within the circle stand:
They asked if she were willing to take this hero’s hand?

A little was she shamèd with maiden modesty;
But yet, so blest was Siegfried and eke so lucky he,
That she did not refuse him at once and out of hand.
To wife he swore to take her, that king of Netherland.

So he to her was plighted, and unto him the maid.
And now the loving damsel no longer was afraid
Within the arms of Siegfried in sweet embrace to rest.
And then, before the heroes, his beauteous queen he kiss’d.

The crowd in twain divided; and, soon as this was done,
Lo, there was Siegfried seated upon the second throne
And, by his side, Kriemhilda; many on them did wait;
One saw the Niblungs thronging around where Siegfried sate.

The king was likewise seated, with Brunhilda the maid.
But when she saw Kriemhilda (she ne’er had been so sad!)
By noble Siegfried sitting, a-weeping she began:
Her many hot tears falling adown her bright cheeks ran.

Then spake the country’s ruler: “What ails you, lady mine,
That you should dim with weeping those bright and shining eyne?
You rather should be joyful that subject unto you
My land is, and my castles, and many a bold man, too.”

“Good cause have I for weeping,” replied the beauteous maid,
“In sooth about thy sister my very heart is sad;
I see her sitting next to yon vassal of thine own:
Needs must I ever mourn it if she be thus undone.”

King Gunther whisper’d to her: “I prithee, silent be!
At some more fitting season I’ll tell this tale to thee,
And wherefore unto Siegfried I did my sister give;
In sooth she, with this warrior, right happily may live.”

She said: “I aye must pity her beauty and her grace;
And gladly would I hide me⁠— did I but know a place⁠—
That it might ne’er befall me to lay me by your side;⁠—
Unless thou tell’st me wherefore she must be Siegfried’s bride.”

The noble king said to her: “This much then understand:
He hath as many castles as I, and broader land⁠—
That know now of a surety; a mighty king is he,
And therefore this fair maiden gave I his wife to be.”

Whate’er the king said to her, she troubled was in mood.
Now hastened from the tables full many a warrior good.
So lusty was their tilting, it made the fortress ring;⁠—
The host amid his guests was distraught and wearying.

He thought how sweet would rest be, by that fair woman’s side!
His heart was never free from this longing for his bride.
He from her wifely duties much love must surely win:
Then tenderly Brunhilda to eye did he begin.

The guests of knightly pastimes were bid to make an end;
The king unto his chamber would with his spouse ascend.
Before the great hall-stairway Kriemhild and Brunhild met:
They look’d upon each other with nought but kindness yet.

Then came their court-attendants; there was no lingering;
The chamberlains rich-suited the taper-lights did bring.
The warriors were divided⁠— to either king his men:
’Twas plainly seen how many did follow Siegfried then.

Unto their wedding chambers thus both the heroes came.
And each of them was thinking how he by love would tame
His lovely lady’s scruples, and tender was his mood.
To Siegfried was his pastime beyond all measure good.

For when the lordly hero held Kriemhild to his heart,
And comforted the maiden with every loving art,
Amid his noble wooing she seem’d his very life:
Not for a thousand others had he foregone his wife.

Of how he woo’d his lady I nothing more will tell.
But hearken to this story, to Gunther what befell
Along with Dame Brunhilda. Methinks the comely thane,
On many a softer pillow with other dames had lain!

The serving-folk had vanish’d, women as well as men:
The door of the bride-chamber was quickly closèd then.
He thought he should be clasping her sweet form presently⁠—
The time was still far distant when she his wife would be.

In shift of snow-white linen she came unto the bed.
Then thought the noble warrior: “Now have I compassèd
All that I ever yearn’d for, through all my livelong days!”
Her beauty had bewitch’d him⁠— ’twere no unlikely case.

The noble king did firstly quench with his hand the light.
To where the dame was lying then ventured that bold knight.
He stretch’d himself beside her: his joy could not be told
As in his arms the hero the lovely one did fold.

All loving customs was he right ready to fulfil,
If but the noble lady had let him have his will.
But she so full of wrath was that sorry was his state:
He thought to meet with kindness, and found unfriendly hate.

She spake: “O knight most noble, you best had let me be,
For that which might content you you ne’er will get from me!
I will remain a maiden⁠— you may be sure of that⁠—
Until I learn the story.” That made her Gunther hate.

He tried to wring love from her, and, striving, tore her dress.
Whereat she seized a girdle⁠— this masterful princess;
It was a cord well-twisted, which round the hips she wore.
Then to the king full measure she gave of anguish sore.

His feet and hands together she fasten’d therewithal;
Then to a nail she bore him, and hung him on the wall!
Because her sleep he hinder’d, to him she love forbad:
Her strength, in sooth, was such that his death he well-nigh had.

Then fell he to beseeching, who master should have been:
“Loose now my bonds, I pray you, most good and noble queen!
I’ll take an oath, fair lady, you never to constrain;
And never will I lay me so nigh to you again.”

She little reck’d how fared he, so she but softly lay:
He needs must stay there hanging all night until the day⁠—
Until the light of morning athwart the lattice shone.
If e’er of strength he boasted, that strength was well-nigh gone.

“Now say to me Lord Gunther, would you not be afraid
To be found tied and hanging,” question’d the beauteous maid,
“By your own body-servants?⁠— bound by a woman, too?”
The noble knight made answer: “ ’Twould evil bode for you!

“I, too, should win small honour,” the worthy man did say:
“I pray you of your goodness to let me by you stay,
And since it seems my wooing doth anger you so much,
’Twill long be ere my fingers shall dare your robe to touch!”

Then speedily she loosed him, and let him to his feet.
Again into the bride-bed he to his wife did get;
Yet so far did he lay him, that he her raiment fair
Thenceforth could scarcely ruffle⁠— of that she took good care.

In came then their attendants, and brought them fresh array⁠—
Of which a mighty store was all ready for that day.
How gay soe’er the world was, right gloomy had he grown,
The country’s noble ruler, who wore, by day, a crown!

According to old custom, which rightly men obey,
King Gunther and Queen Brunhild no longer must delay
To go unto the minster, where Holy Mass was sung.
There, likewise, came Sir Siegfried, and mighty was the throng.

As kingly rank demanded, in readiness did wait
Whatever they had need of: their crowns and robes of state.
Then were they consecrated; and, after that was done,
All four were seen in gladness to stand, each with a crown.

Then many youths were knighted⁠— six hundred, maybe more⁠—
In honour of the crowning;⁠— of that ye may be sure;
And great rejoicing was there throughout Burgundian land.
One heard the lances splinter in every new knight’s hand.

The fair maids in the windows sat, and o’erlook’d the field:
They saw below them flashing full many a polish’d shield.
King Gunther kept aloof from his lieges’ revelry⁠—
Whate’er the rest were doing, a mournful man was he:

How great was the unlikeness of his and Siegfried’s mood!
And well he knew what ailed him that noble knight and good.
Unto the king he hastened, and straight to question fell:
“How fared you yestereven? to me you this should tell.”

Then to his guest the host spake: “A foul disgrace ’twill be!
I’ve brought the very devil home to the house with me!
For when I sought to woo her, she bound me tight withal,
Then to a nail she bore me and hang’d me on the wall.

“There hung I in mine anguish all night until the day,
Before she would unbind me. How softly, too, she lay!
This, trusting in your friendship, I tell you secretly.”
Then cried the stalwart Siegfried: “This grieves me, verily;

“I’ll see if I can help you, so put your grief away.
I’ll manage that this evening she’ll let you by her stay;⁠—
She shall not even flout you, nor scorn your love again.”
This saying was to Gunther sweet comfort after pain.

And further spake Sir Siegfried: “Thou yet mayst prosper well.
Right different, I ween, was the luck that us befell!
To me your sister Kriemhild is dearer than my life:
This same night Dame Brunhilda shall be your willing wife.”

He said: “Unto your chamber I’ll come this very night,
Clad in my hood of darkness, unseen of any wight⁠—
That ne’er another person my artifice may know;
So let your chamber-servants unto their hostel go.

“The lights the pages carry I’ll suddenly put out;
And this will be the token, that you may have no doubt
But I am nigh to aid you: yea! I will tame your wife
That you this night can woo her;⁠— thereon I stake my life!”

“Then,” quoth the king, “be careful thou yieldest not to love;
She is mine own dear lady! The rest I do approve⁠—
Do with her what thou choosest;⁠— if thou shouldst take her life
Methinks I would o’erlook it: she is a fearsome wife!”

“I do agree,” cried Siegfried, “and, by my faith, I swear
I will not seek to woo her. Is not thy sister dear
Before all other women I have set eyes on aye?”
Right well believèd Gunther what Siegfried then did say.

The merry games brought gladness and also weariness.
The tilting and the shouting were bidden soon to cease:
For to the hall the ladies were shortly to depart.
The chamberlains commanded the folk to stand apart.

The horses and the people were driven from the court.
Each of the beauteous ladies a bishop did escort,
When they in kingly presence must go to sit at meat.
And many a goodly liegeman them follow’d to their seat.

The king, with hopes encouraged, in joyous humour sat:
What Siegfried had assured him, his mind was full of that!
To him this one day seemèd as long as thirty days.
Upon his lady’s wooing his thoughts were set always.

He scarcely could content him until the meal was done.
Then was the fair Brunhilda at leisure to be gone,
As also was Kriemhilda; both to their rooms would go,
The thanes around them thronging;⁠— ha! ’twas a gallant show!

Sir Siegfried by Kriemhilda his beauteous wife still sate,
And with her held sweet converse with joy unmarr’d by hate.
His hands she softly fondled with hers that were so white⁠—
Until⁠—but how she knew not⁠— he vanish’d from her sight.

As she with him was toying and found he’d slipped away,
She turned to his attendants, and thus the queen did say:
“I marvel what hath happen’d the king, where hath he gone?
His hands he but this moment hath taken from mine own.”

She did not question further. Meanwhile he quickly came
To where the chamber-servants did wait with links aflame:
He straight began to quench them, each in the page’s hand.
That it was done by Siegfried Gunther did understand.

Well knew he what he wanted: he therefore bade begone
The maids and dames who waited. As soon as this was done
The noble king was careful himself to lock the door:
Two strong bolts drew he quickly and fastened therebefore.

Behind the tester-hangings he hid the tapers’ light.
And then began a play-piece, which ended not that night,
Betwixt the stalwart Siegfried and that fair maiden wife;⁠—
Which was unto King Gunther with joy and sorrow rife.

When on the couch lay Siegfried alongside of the queen:
“Take care,” quoth she, “Lord Gunther, —though sweet it might have been
To love me⁠—lest you suffer as you have done before.”
The lady for bold Siegfried had bitter woe in store.

To hide his voice he fail’d not, and ne’er a word spake he.
And so ’twas plain to Gunther, although he could not see,
That nothing sly or secret was passing ’twixt the twain.
But little peace or comfort did either of them gain!

He bore himself as though he the great King Gunther were,
And in his arms clasp’d closely that maiden passing fair.
But on a bench by-standing she hurl’d him from the bed,
So that against a footstool he loudly smote his head.

Arising, strong as ever, up leapt the gallant man:
This time he would do better! but soon as he began
To try and overpower her, again she wrought him woe.
Ne’er wife hath made a fending the like of that, I trow!

And when he gave not over, the maiden sprang upright:
“Full ill doth it beseem you to touch my shift so white!
Coarse are you and unmanner’d: woe therefore you betide!
You shall not soon forget it!” the comely maiden cried.

She clasp’d the good knight tightly with both her arms around,
And would have laid and bound him, as she the king had bound⁠—
That she in peace and quiet might lie upon her bed.
The ruffling of her raiment she vengefully repaid.

What did his valour serve him, and what his power of limb,
When she essayed to show him that she could master him?
By might and main she bore him⁠— not elsewise could it be⁠—
And ’twixt the bed and cupboard she crush’d him cruelly.

“Ah, woe is me!” the knight thought, “am I to lose my life,
And that through a mere maiden? if so be, every wife,
From this day forth for ever, with arrogance and pride
Will treat her lawful husband; which else should ne’er betide.”

The king could hear all plainly, and grievèd for the man.
Siegfried, full sore ashamèd, to rage within began;
His monstrous strength outputting he with the maid did close,
And strove with all his forces Dame Brunhild to oppose.

Long time it seemed to Gunther ere he the maid did quell.
She grasp’d his hands so tightly, that from each finger-nail
The blood burst from her pressure;⁠— sad pain the hero bore
Ere yet the noble maiden he made for evermore

Renounce that will unruly, of which she was so proud.
The king heard what was passing, but durst not speak a word.
Against the bed he press’d her, until she cried again:
His strength it was sufficient to cause her gruesome pain.

Then clutch’d she at the girdle she wore about her waist,
And would have bound him with it: he stopp’d it with such haste
And force, that all her body and joints crack’d in the strife.
Thus ended was the battle⁠— she now was Gunther’s wife.

She spake: “O noble sovran, now let my life go free,
And all shall be atoned for that I have done to thee.
Ne’er more I’ll do despite to the love of thy true heart:
Right surely have I proved that thou women’s master art.”

Sir Siegfried stepp’d aside then⁠— whilst there the maiden lay⁠—
As though he had bethought him his clothes to put away;
But first, from off her finger a golden ring he drew,
So that the noble maiden naught of it ever knew.

He likewise took her girdle⁠— a silken cord and good⁠—
I know not if he took it in arrogance of mood.
Unto his wife he gave it, whence woe he one day had.
Then lay each by the other the king and his fair maid.

He woo’d her as a lover, as was his right to do.
And needs must she her anger and eke her shame forego.
So closely did he court her her cheeks grew somewhat pale:
Ah me! how all her power was made by love to fail!

For now she was no stronger than any other dame,
And all her lovely body his very own became.
If she had tried to spurn him, what profit could it prove?
This was the work of Gunther by virtue of his love.

How full of fond endearments he by the lady lay,
In tender love and kindness until the dawn of day!
Meanwhile, the noble Siegfried had gone again outside,
And was right warmly welcomed by his own winsome bride.

He put aside the questions which did perplex her thought,
And long from her kept hidden what he for her had brought;⁠—
Until, a queen and crownèd, to his own land she went.
What he was doom’d to give her he nowise could prevent!

The host upon the morrow was in a gayer mood
Than on the former morning; thereby a humour good
Spread through his lands, rejoicing full many a noble thane
Whom to his house he summon’d, and well did entertain.

The merry-making lasted until the fourteenth day.
And all the while the turmoil did not abate nor stay
With all kinds of rejoicing, which one and all must share.
’Twas all at the king’s charges, and great in sooth they were.

For noble Gunther’s kinsmen, as them the king had told,
Gave gifts to do him honour, of raiment and red gold,
Of horses and of silver, unto the outland men.
They who for gifts were eager departed happy then.

And even the lord Siegfried from out of Netherland,
With all his thousand lieges, of that apparel grand
Which they had brought to Rhineland to them did freely give;
Fine horses, eke, and saddles: right nobly could they live!

Ere all the costly presents were shared among the throng,
Those who would fain go homeward began to think it long.
Ne’er yet of like enjoyment had guests so had their fill.
And so the wedding ended, such was King Gunther’s will.