King Gunther now and Hagen, those knights exceeding bold,
Had treacherously plotted a woodland hunt to hold.
With lances sharp pursuing the boar in forest free,
The wild bull and the bear too: what bolder sport could be?

With them rode Siegfried also, in honourable mind.
They carried food, too, with them, and that in divers kind.
Hard by a cool spring was he foredoom’d to lose his life.
And this was by the counsel of Brunhild, Gunther’s wife.

First went the bold thane thither where he Kriemhilda found,
Already on pack-horses his hunting-gear was bound,
And that of his companions: to cross the Rhine they meant,
Kriemhilda ne’er before had such reason to lament.

And then his own belovèd he on the mouth did kiss:
“God grant that I may find thee, my wife, safe, after this;
And that thine eyes may see me! With good friends, till I come
Beguile the time of waiting, I may not bide at home.”

Now thought she of the secret she had to Hagen told:⁠—
She did not dare to own it⁠— nor longer could withhold
The noble queen lamenting that she had e’er been born!
For thus with grief unmeasured did Siegfried’s fair wife mourn.

She spake unto the warrior: “Ah, let your hunting be!
Last night I had an ill dream: two wild boars I did see
That chased you o’er the moorland: the flowers grew red as blood.
If I do weep thus sorely, ’tis that I bode no good.

“I have a sore misgiving that there may be some plot:
Whether some grudge be owed us for service rendered not,
Which may be bringing on us dire hate and enmity?
Go not, dear lord, I beg thee in truth and honesty.”

“My love, in but a few days again I shall be here.
Nor know I of these people one who ill-will doth bear;
To me at all times friendly are all thy kith and kin:
Nor by these warriors elsewise entreated have I been.”

“Nay, nay, my dear lord Siegfried, I bode thy fate too well:
Last night my evil dreaming told how upon thee fell
Two mountains in the valley; I saw thee never more.
If thou wilt thus forsake me, ’twill wound me to the core.”

His wife so good and loving he in his arms did press,
And cherish’d her fair body with kisses numberless;
Then took his last leave of her, and tore himself away;
Alas, no more she saw him alive after that day!

Now rode they forth and came to a deep and shady wood,
For sake of sport, and many a warrior bold and good
Did follow after Gunther and with his sportsmen roam.
But Giselher and Gernot, they two remained at home.

And many horses, laden with stores of bread and wine
Provided for the huntsmen, went forward o’er the Rhine;
Both fish and flesh they carry, and many another cate
Such as a king so wealthy might duly have to eat.

They ordered their encampment, these hunters proud, hard by
The greenwood’s skirts, where mostly the quarry’s runs did lie
Which they to hunt were minded; ’twas on an eyot broad,
And thither too came Siegfried: as straight the king had word.

The hunters then appointed the watchers where to take
Their places at the openings. Then he, the bold man, spake,
Siegfried the ever-stalwart, “Who leads us through the wood,
To show us where the game is, ye valiant thanes and good?”

“Suppose we part,” quoth Hagen, “or ever we begin
To beat about the forest to see what is therein.
That I and these my masters may reason have to know
Who are the better sportsmen that on this chase do go.

“The beaters and the hounds too, we’ll evenly divide:
Thus each his choice may follow where’er he please to ride.
Then he who is best sportsman shall have our thanks therefore.”
So spake he, and the hunters together stay’d no more.

Then said the noble Siegfried: “The hounds I value not,
Save but a single setter, who such a scent hath got
That he the track will follow where’er the game hath led;
Here’s to a merry hunting!” Kriemhilda’s husband said.

Thereon an aged huntsman took with him a sleuth-hound,
And brought the noble hunters to where much game they found
Without too long a-seeking. The comrades then did hunt
Whatever broke from covert, as sportsmen keen are wont.

Whate’er the setter mark’d him, that slew with his own hand
Siegfried the doughty hero, who came from Netherland.
His steed so swiftly bore him, that naught could him outrun;
Praise above all the others upon this chase he won.

In all he put his hand to alert he was enow;
Of all the beasts, the first one that he to death did do
An ox was, strong and savage, that with his hand he fell’d;
And then he, on a sudden, a lion grim beheld.

E’en as the hound aroused it he with his bow let fly,
On which a sharpen’d arrow he’d fitted hastily.
After the shot the lion but three bounds further ran;
Whereon his hunting comrades to thank Siegfried began.

There after he an elk slew, and then a buffalo,
And then four sturdy bisons, a savage stag also.
His steed so swiftly bore him that naught could get away:
Of harts and hinds scarce any there were he fail’d to slay.

A huge wild boar the sleuth-hound had routed from his lair,
And when to flee he turn’d him right in his path was there
The hero of the hunting, all ready for the fight;
The savage brute did straightway charge at the valiant knight.

This boar Kriemhilda’s husband then with his broadsword slew:
The like no other huntsman so easily could do.
And when he thus had felled him, they put in leash the hound:
His goodly spoils were talk’d of all Burgundy around.

Then spake to him his huntsmen: “If ’tis for us to say,
Leave us, we pray, Lord Siegfried, a few live beasts to slay!
To-day thou hast made empty for us both wood and wold.”
Thereat he fell to smiling that worthy thane and bold.

Then suddenly, on all sides, were heard great noise and cries.
From dogs and men together such tumult did arise
That all the woodland echoed, and eke the mountain-side
For four-and-twenty leash-hounds the hunters had untied.

Then many a forest creature must unto death be done,
Since every hunter fancied that he might be the one
To win the prize for hunting: but no award could be
Until beside the camp-fire stout Siegfried they did see.

The hunting, though ’twas over, was not yet brought to end:
For some, with burdens laden, to camp their way did wend,
Of beast fells bringing many, and game a goodly store.
What piles of it for cooking the king’s camp-servants bore!

Then to the high-born hunters the king would have it known
That he to dine was ready. Then all at once was blown
A hunting-horn, right loudly, that all might know around
That now the noble princes would at the camp be found.

Quoth one of Siegfried’s huntsmen: “Sir, I have heard but now,
By sounding of a horn, that ’tis time for us to go
Back to the camp: in answer I will my bugle wind.”
Then went the loud blasts flying their followers to find.

Then spake the noble Siegfried: “Now let us leave the wood!”
His hunter bore him smoothly: and all in haste they rode.
They startled, with their clatter, a grisly brute and grim⁠—
A savage bear. Then, turning to those who followed him,

The thane cried: “Now our comrades a little fun shall share!
Loose from the leash the setter; yonder I spy a bear;
I’ll see that he goes with us from here unto the camp.
He never can escape us, however fast he tramp!”

They loosed the hound, and swiftly the bear before them hied.
Then thought Kriemhilda’s husband close after him to ride;
But to a ground-rift came he, whereby it could not be;
The sturdy beast made certain ’twas from the huntsmen free.

The proud knight, from his charger, sprang down upon the sward:
And straight began to chase it; the beast was off its guard,
And could not now outrun him: the hero clasp’d it round,
And, in a trice, unwounded, he held it tightly bound.

The man it was not able to scratch or bite one jot!
He bound it to his saddle, then promptly up he got.
Unto the camp he bore it⁠— a prize of hardihood;
Which all was but a pastime to that knight bold and good.

How noble was his bearing as into camp he rode!
His spear was very mighty, and thereto stout and broad.
Right down unto the rowel a handsome long-sword hung:
And a fair horn around him of ruddy gold was slung.

Of better hunting-habit I never have been told.
In tunic of black velvet there was he to behold;
A riding-cap of sable, handsome enough, he wore;
Ay, and what broider’d fillets he on his quiver bore!

Upon it there was fitted a cap of panther’s hide,
Because of its sweet odour. He carried at his side
A bow, such that it needed⁠— to draw it to the full⁠—
A hand-winch, when another save he himself did pull.

And then his nether garments of otter-skin were made.
From head to foot his raiment with tufts was overlaid.
And, ’mid the sleek fur, many a thread of golden twine
Of this bold champion-hunter on either side did shine.

And Balmung bore he also⁠— a handsome blade and broad,
That was so sharp, moreover, its edge was never scored
When helms by it were dinted; and either edge was keen.
Ne’er had that noble huntsman of gayer spirit been.

Since I have undertaken the story to declare,
I must tell how his quiver was fill’d with arrows rare;
The shafts of them were golden, the points a hand-breadth wide.
Whate’er with them he piercèd, surely and swiftly died.

So rode the noble hero in all his hunting gear;
And Gunther’s men espied him as he to them drew near.
They hurried out to meet him, and led his horse along.
There lay across his saddle the bear so huge and strong.

As soon as he alighted he loosed the binding thong
From off its paws and muzzle; then yelpings loud and long
Of hounds arose, so soon as afoot the bear appear’d.
The brute would to the forest: the folk were fairly scared.

The bear, through all the shouting, into the kitchen ramp’d:
Hey, how the frighted scullions from round the fire decamp’d!
The kettles toppled over, the burning sticks were drown’d:
Hey, what a store of victuals lay in the ashes round!

Quick from their seats upsprang they, the masters and the men.
The bear began a-growling: the king gave orders then
To let loose all the hound-pack, that in their leashes lay.
Had it herewith but ended that were a merry day!

With bows and spears provided they stay’d no longer there,
But off the swift ones started to follow up the bear.
Yet no one shot: so closely the dogs were thronging round.
The shouting of the people made hill and dale resound.

With all the pack behind him the bear began to race,
But, save Kriemhilda’s husband, no one could match its pace.
He quickly ran upon it, and with a sword-stroke slew.
Then to the camp-fire, slaughter’d, the grisly brute they drew.

And all who saw, were saying he was a mighty man.
The hunters proud were summon’d, and then the feast began.
Upon a fair green meadow, a goodly crowd they sate;
Ha, ’twas a royal banquet these haughty hunters ate!

The cupbearers still came not, who were the wine to bring⁠—
No heroes ever better deserved such offering;
Had there not been in secret such treacherous intent,
Then free had been those warriors of all disparagement.

Then spake the noble Siegfried: “I marvel much hereat;⁠—
Since from the kitchen plenty of food they send to eat,
Why come not the cupbearers to bring us also wine?
Let them treat hunters better, or ’tis no sport of mine!

“I have deserved that people more care of me should take.”
The king then from the table, in answer, falsely spake:
“However we have blunder’d we’ll mend it by-and-by;
’Tis all the fault of Hagen, who’d have us all go dry.”

Then Hagen spake, of Tronjé: “My dear lord list to me,
I reckon’d that the hunting to-day was fix’d to be
Right over in the Spessart, so sent the wine-flasks there.
If we to-day go thirsty, next time I’ll take more care!”

Then answer’d the lord Siegfried: “Small thanks, methinks, are thine!
Seven sumpters’ burden should they of mead and unmix’d wine
Have hither sent to meet us; or were that hard to do,
They should have pitch’d our quarters more nigh the Rhine unto.”

Then spake Hagen of Tronjé: “Ye noble knights and bold,
I know that here hard by is a spring of water cold⁠—
Pray be ye not offended⁠— ’tis thither we should go.”
To many a thane this counsel was fraught with mickle woe.

With pangs of thirst was Siegfried the warrior sorely smit:
The sooner then the table he gave them word to quit;
Along the hill-side would he unto the fountain wend.
Thus what the knights had plotted drew on towards its end.

The game that had been slaughter’d by Siegfried’s cunning hand,
They bade men pile on wagons, and carry through the land.
And everyone who saw it his praise and honour spake.
Right grievously did Hagen his troth to Siegfried break.

Whilst to the shady lindens they were upon their way,
Cried Hagen, lord of Tronjé: “Oft have I heard men say
That to Kriemhilda’s husband no one a match could be
When he would show his paces: ay! will he let us see!”

Then spake the Netherlander Siegfried, the valiant:
“Now is the time for trying, if ye a wager want,
From here unto the fountain; so soon as it be done
The onlookers shall settle which is the foremost one.”

“Now verily we’ll try it,” the warrior Hagen said.
Then quoth the stalwart Siegfried: “If ye come in ahead,
Before your feet I’ll lay me full length upon the grass.”
When Gunther heard the promise, how glad at heart he was!

Then spake the bold thane further: “Yet something more I’ll say,
I’ll carry all the clothing that I have worn to-day⁠—
My spear and eke my buckler, and all my hunting gear.”
His sword and quiver bound he around him then and there.

But they, the king and Hagen, their upper clothes did doff:
In two white shirts one saw them stand ready to be off.
As fleet as two wild panthers they through the clover ran:
Yet at the spring bold Siegfried came in the foremost man.

In all he put his hand to he won the prize from all.
Straightway his sword he loosen’d and let his quiver fall;
Against a bough of linden he let his stout spear rest;
Close by the flowing fountain now stood the stately guest.

And herein also Siegfried did manifest his worth:
He laid his shield beside him where flow’d the fountain forth,
But, greatly as he thirsted, the hero tasted not
Before the king had drunken: base thanks from him he got.

Cool was the spring of water, and clean, and bright, and good;
And Gunther bent him downwards to the refreshing flood;
As soon as he had quenchèd his thirst, away he came;
Then ready was bold Siegfried and would have done the same.

His courtesy and breeding, then met with their reward:
For Hagen to the background withdrew his bow and sword.
Then back again ran quickly to where he found the spear,
And looked to find a token the hero’s coat did bear.

And whilst the noble Siegfried drank of the rippling flood
He stabb’d him through the cross-mark, and through the wound his blood
Straight from his heart outspurted, and Hagen’s shirt was wet;
So foul a misdeed never befell a hero yet.

He left the lance within him close to his heart stuck tight;
And grimly then did Hagen betake himself to flight,
As in his life he never from mortal man did flee.
The stalwart Siegfried, feeling how sorely smit was he,

All madly from the fountain in rage and anguish sprang,
Whilst from between his shoulders a long lance-shaft did hang.
The chieftain thought to find there his bow, or else his sword:
Then verily had Hagen not gone without reward.

But when the knight sore-wounded his sword had fail’d to find,
And saw that they had left him naught save his shield behind,
He gripp’d it from the well’s side, and after Hagen ran:
Then vainly to escape him essay’d King Gunther’s man.

Though he to death was wounded, so mightily smote he,
That from the hero’s buckler there fell abundantly
The precious stones that deck’d it; the shield itself did break;
The noble guest his vengeance was fain enow to wreak.

Yet by his hand must Hagen lie stretch’d upon the ground.
So hard, in sooth, his blows were, they made the glebe resound.
Had he his sword had handy, then Hagen had been slain.
The wound was burning sorely, and made him writhe with pain.

His cheeks had lost their colour; no longer stand could he,
And all his strength of body was failing utterly;
Death’s sign upon his forehead in pallid hue he bore:
Fair women soon were mourning for him with weeping sore.

Then fell Kriemhilda’s husband upon the flowery sward:
One saw from out the lance-wound, how fast his life-blood pour’d.
Upbraiding then began he⁠— forced by his mortal pain⁠—
Those who had thus betray’d him and treacherously slain.

“Ye perjured, lying cowards,” the dying warrior said,
“What hath avail’d my service, since thus ye strike me dead?
To you aye was I faithful: and thus do ye repay!
Your kith and kin shall suffer for what ye’ve wrought this day.

“The children born unto ye shall be, from this day forth,
For evermore accursèd, for ye have wreak’d your wrath,
And vengeance all too sorely upon my body done:
Now ye, with scorn and hatred, all worthy knights shall shun.”

The knights all ran together to where he stricken lay.
To many a man among them it was a joyless day.
They who had aught of honour sore lamentation made.
From all he well deserved it, this hero undismay’d.

The king of the Burgundians mourn’d also for his death.
Then spake the dying chieftain: “Small need is there, in faith,
That he who work’d the evil should grieve that it be done:
Much blame he hath deservèd: ’twere better left alone!”

Grim Hagen spake to Gunther: “What art thou weeping for?
For done is our vexation and all our sorrows o’er:
We shall find few henceforward who ’gainst us dare to stand.
Glad am I that his kingship hath perish’d by my hand!”

“ ’Tis easy now to vaunt ye,” said Siegfried, in reply,
“If I had known beforehand your deadly enmity,
Alone would I against ye have well maintain’d my life:
For naught grieve I so sorely as for Kriemhild, my wife.

“And now must God forgive me, that I a son did get
Whom folks shall taunt in future and let him not forget
That kin of his by some one was murderously slain.
If that avail’d,” said Siegfried, “right well might I complain.”

Yet once more spake the hero, in anguish nigh to death:
“If thou, O king most noble, art willing to hold faith
With any living being, I fain would now consign
Unto your grace and favour, that well-loved wife of mine.

“And let her from this profit, that thou her brother art:
If there is faith in princes, stand by her with true heart.
My father and my liegemen must tarry long for me;
Ne’er worse to any woman could loss of dear friend be.”

All round about, the flowers were wetted with his blood,
As now with Death he struggled: nor long the strife withstood.
Alas, the deadly weapon too well had done its part!
Then mote he speak no further, that warrior of bold heart.

And when the nobles saw that the hero was quite dead,
Upon a shield they laid him, that was of wrought gold red;
And straightway held they counsel how they might best take heed
From all to keep it hidden that Hagen did the deed.

Then divers of them counsell’d: “Woe hath befallen us,
But ye must all conceal it, and tell the story thus:
‘As Dame Kriemhilda’s husband alone a-hunting rode,
Some vagabonds set on him and slew him in the wood.’ ”

Then spake of Tronjé Hagen: “Myself I’ll take him home,
It matters not to me that the truth to her should come:
Brunhilda’s mind hath sorely by her been harassèd,
It troubles me but little what tears she now may shed!”