Then waited they for nightfall, and o’er the Rhine did row:
Ne’er to more direful ending could heroes hunting go.
The quarry they had slaughter’d mourn’d noble maids and wives:
And many goodly warriors paid for it with their lives.

Of arrogance o’erweening the tale ye soon shall hear,
And of a fearful vengeance. Then Hagen bade men bear
The body of dead Siegfried, the Niblung lord of late,
And lay it in a chamber wherein Kriemhild did wait.

He had him laid in secret down close beside her door,
That she might find him lying when she, as heretofore,
Went forth to matins early, ere daylight had begun;
Which duty dame Kriemhilda but seldom left undone.

The wonted bell was ringing, which to the minster bade;
Then rose the fair Kriemhilda and waken’d many a maid:
She bade them bring a taper, and fetch her all her gear.
Then came a chamber-servant who lit on Siegfried there.

In red blood he was lying, and all his garb was wet;
But that it was his master he did not know as yet.
Into the room he carried the candle in his hand,
From him did Dame Kriemhilda some ill news understand.

For, as she with her women would to the minster fare,
The chamberlain spake to her: “My lady, stay you there!
Right opposite the doorway a murder’d knight doth lie.”
Whereat began Kriemhilda to weep unmeasuredly.

Before she knew for certain that ’twas her husband dead,
Unto her mind recall’d she how Hagen questionèd
In what way he might guard him: then first she was afraid.
An he were dead, her pleasure was all to sorrow made.

To earth down sank she swooning, and ne’er a word could say:
Upon the hapless fair one men gazed as there she lay.
The grief of Dame Kriemhilda was past all measuring:
After her swoon, the chamber did with her wailing ring.

Her people said unto her: “What if it be a guest?”
But from her mouth came flowing the blood, by anguish press’d;
Then spake she: “ ’Tis my husband, my own belov’d Siegfried:
It was Brunhilda’s counsel, and Hagen did the deed.”

The lady bade them lead her where she her hero found.
With her white hand she lifted his fair head from the ground;
Red as he was with blood-stains, well knew she him again.⁠—
There lay the Niblung hero, so pitifully slain.

Then in her sorrow cried she, that fair and gentle queen:
“Woe on mine evil fortune! Upon thy shield is seen
No dint of any sword-stroke: thou liest murder’d there.
And wist I who hath done it, of death mote he be ware.”

Thereon all her attendants began to wail and weep:
With their belovèd lady, their grief indeed was deep
About their noble master, of whom they were forlorn.
Thus heavily had Hagen made good Brunhilda’s scorn.

Then sorrowfully spake she: “Go hence now, all of ye,
And waken Siegfried’s liegemen as quickly as may be.
And unto Siegmund also my sorrow must ye tell,
If so be he will help me to mourn brave Siegfried well.”

A messenger ran swiftly and found them where they lay⁠—
Siegfried’s own band of heroes from Niblung land were they.
He told the grievous tidings, and joy fled at his word;
Yet would they not believe it till they the wailing heard.

The messenger sped further to where he found the king.
Unto the noble Siegmund that night no sleep did bring;
His heart within foreboded what happ’d to him, I ween:
How that his dear son living should never more be seen.

“Awake, arise, Lord Siegmund! Kriemhilda, my mistress,
Hath bidden me to fetch thee; to her a sore distress
Hath happ’d beyond all others, which cuts her to the heart:
And thou must help her mourning, for thou in it hast part.”

Upstarted Siegmund, crying: “What grief hath happenèd
Unto the fair Kriemhilda, as thou just now hast said?”
Then spake the herald, weeping, “I cannot it withhold:
Ay! Siegfried hath been murder’d, the Netherlander bold!”

Then spake the noble Siegmund: “Pray let this jesting be,
And of such evil stories, beware, for love of me,
The like you tell to no man⁠— how Siegfried hath been slain:
In such case could I never live happily again.”

“If thou wilt not believe me when thou hast heard my tale,
With thine own ears ’tis easy to hear Kriemhilda wail;
For she and all her people are mourning Siegfried dead.”
Then sore afraid was Siegmund: and sad was he indeed.

Straight from his couch upsprang he, with five score of his men;
They reach’d their hands in search of their weapons long and keen,
And ran, grief-stricken, thither to where they heard the cries;
Then, too, the thousand warriors of Siegfried bold did rise.

Whilst piteously the women were heard to weep and moan,
Some of the men bethought them that raiment they should don:
Ay, scarcely for their trouble could they their senses keep.
And bitter was the anguish that in their hearts lay deep.

Soon came the royal Siegmund to where Kriemhild did stand.
He spake: “Woe on the journey that brought us to this land
Who hath thy husband taken, and reft me of my son,
And, amidst friends and kinsmen, thus murderously done?”

“Ah, if I only knew him!” the noble wife did say,
“No mercy would I show him, in mind or body aye:
Such evil would I do him, that if his kith and kin
Had not good cause for weeping, ’twould be no fault of mine.”

Then in his arms did Siegmund the murder’d prince enfold;
Whereat his friends their sorrow so little could withhold,
That with their lamentation the palace rang and hall;
And even through Worms city, the sounds of woe did fall.

To none who strove to comfort did Siegfried’s wife give heed.
Meanwhile from out its clothing his body fair they freed;
They washed his wounds with water, and laid him on the bier;
The sorrow of his people right grievous was to hear.

Then up and spake his warriors the men of Niblung-land:
“With right goodwill shall vengeance be taken at our hand;
Within this very fortress is he who did the deed.”
Then ran they all for weapons the liegemen of Siegfried.

These thanes, for valour chosen, each with his shield, were there,
A thousand and one hundred, ready at hand they were
To follow noble Siegmund. The murder of his son
He to avenge was eager⁠— ’twas needful to be done.

Nor knew they ’gainst what foemen they had to strive withal,
Unless it might be Gunther and his bold liegemen all,
With whom their master Siegfried, did late a-hunting go.
Kriemhilda saw them arming, and grievous was her woe.

However deep her sorrow, and dire as was her need,
Yet did she for the Niblungs fear with such mighty dread
Death, by her brother’s liegemen, that she would have them stay:
She warn’d them in all kindness, as friends each other may.

Thus spake the grief-lorn lady; “My lord Siegmund, what dost
Thou think to take in hand now? Thou hast not weigh’d the cost.
King Gunther hath so many bold warriors at command,
That all of ye will perish if ye his knights withstand.”

With shields already lifted, they needs must to the fray;
The noble queen besought them and even bade them stay,
And seek not for a conflict⁠— these knights of courage high.
Yet would they not forego it; which grieved her verily.

So said she: “Noble Siegmund, ’twere best to let it be
Until a fitter season: then will I readily
Avenge with you mine husband. Who me hath widow made,
To him, when it is proven, shall evil be repaid.

“Hereby upon the Rhine-strand dwells many a haughty knight:
I cannot therefore counsel that you with them should fight.
Full thirty warriors have they against our every one.
God grant that they may prosper as they to us have done!

“Ye must remain beside me, this grief with me to share;
And, when the day is dawning, ye heroes bold prepare
To help me in his coffin my husband dear to lay.”
Then all the thanes made answer: “It shall be as you say.”

No tongue could ever tell you the marvel of it, how
From knights as well as ladies arose the cries of woe,
So that throughout the city the noise thereof did sound.
The noble burghers heard it, and quickly throng’d around.

They mournèd with the strangers, for they themselves were sad.
If fault had been with Siegfried, none told them that it had,
Nor why the noble warrior had forfeited his life.
Then wept, too, with the women, each worthy burgher’s wife.

The smiths were bidden quickly a coffin to devise
Of gold y-wrought and silver, strong and of mickle size;
They bade them firmly bind it, with temper’d steel and good.
Then truly all the people were sorrowful of mood.

The night was spent, and daylight ’twas said would soon appear.
The noble lady bade them unto the minster bear
Siegfried their noble master, her husband well-beloved.
One saw his friends all weeping, as they the body moved.

They brought him to the minster, and toll’d was many a bell:
On every side the chanting of priests was heard to swell.
And thither came King Gunther, and all his folk with him,
To take part in the mourning; and likewise Hagen grim.

He said: “My dearest sister, alas, indeed, for thee!
That from thy sorrow’s burden can none of us be free:
We must bewail for ever the loss of Siegfried’s life.”
“That do ye without reason,” answer’d the mourning wife.

“It never need have happen’d if real your sorrow were;
Me must ye have forgotten⁠— that may I well aver⁠—
When I was there bereft of my own belovèd one.
I would to God,” said Kriemhild, “it had to me been done!”

They clave unto their lying. Kriemhild began again:
“Whoso of you is guiltless, now let him make it plain;⁠—
Let each before the people walk up unto the bier;
Thereby the truth that’s in him shall presently appear.”

It is a wondrous marvel that oft hath happenèd:
That when one sees the slayer beside the murder’d dead,
The wounds afresh start bleeding; as here, too, came to pass.
Whereby men saw that Hagen the malefactor was.

Again the wounds bled freely, as they had done afore;
They who had mourn’d him sorely bewail’d him now the more.
Then spake aloud King Gunther: “I tell you everyone
’Twas vagabonds that slew him: ’twas not by Hagen done.”

“These vagabonds, too surely are known to me,” she spake,
“By friendly hands, God willing, we’ll vengeance on them take!
Thou Gunther and thou Hagen have surely done this thing.”
By this time Siegfried’s warriors for strife were hankering.

Kriemhilda spake yet further: “Now share with me my need.”
Then came those twain unto her who found him lying dead⁠—
They were her brother Gernot and Giselher the youth.
As many a man did later, these mourn’d for him in sooth.

With all their hearts they mourn’d him, the husband of Kriemhild.
Now masses must be chanted: the minster soon was fill’d
With men, and wives, and children⁠— from every side they came.
E’en they who little miss’d him mourn’d Siegfried all the same.

Gernot, and Giselher with him, spake: “Sister dear to me,
Now, for this death, take comfort, as verily must be.
We will atone unto you as long as we shall live.”
Yet on the earth was no one who could her comfort give.

His coffin was made ready well-nigh about midday;
Then from the bier they raised him, whereon till then he lay.
Fain would the noble lady have kept him from the grave;
Which unto her attendants sore trouble surely gave.

In richly broider’d vestment they wrapp’d the body round,
And then, I ween, that no one unweeping there was found.
With all her heart wept Uté⁠— a noble woman she⁠—
And each of her attendants the goodly corpse to see.

When people heard the chanting within the church begin,
And knew that he was coffin’d, they throng’d to enter in:
For his soul’s weal and profit what offerings were made!
In sooth, among the foemen good friends enough he had!

Kriemhilda, the poor lady, said to her chamberlain:
“The love they bear towards me will be to them a bane,
Seeing they grudge him nothing and hold me also dear;
For Siegfried’s weal ’tis fitting that they his gold should share.

There was no child so little, who any wit might have,
But join’d in the almsgiving, ere he was laid in grave.
More than a hundred masses were sung ere day was done
And Siegfried’s friends and kinsmen came thronging ev’ry one.

When ended was the chanting the people went away.
Then spake the lady Kriemhild: “Ye must not let me stay
Alone to watch beside him, this knight exceeding brave.
My joys are, with his body, all buried in the grave.

“Three days and three nights longer here would I keep him still,
Until of my dear husband my heart has had its fill.
Then what if God should order that death should take me too?
Then would poor Kriemhild’s sorrows no longer trouble you.”

The people from the city now homewards went their way.
The priests and monks Kriemhilda besought with her to stay,
And eke her own attendants, to watch beside the knight.
Forbidding was the darkness and wearisome the light.

From eating and from drinking did many a man abstain.
If any cared to take it, to them it was made plain
That they might have in plenty: Siegmund of that took care.
And yet, full many a labour the Niblung-folk must share:

For three whole days, unceasing⁠— the story thus we hear⁠—
They who had skill in singing must needs the burden bear
Of chanting many an office. What alms to them folk paid!
They who were poor aforetime now wealth in plenty had.

Whene’er they found poor people who nothing had to bring,
They sent them to the minster, with gold for offering
From Siegfried’s treasure taken. Since life he could not have,
Of marks for his soul’s welfare they many thousand gave.

The first-fruits were divided in all the land around,
Wherever cloister-houses or goodly folk were found.
Of silver and of raiment the poor got ample store:
Men did the like as showing what love to him they bore.

Upon the third day early, just at the hour of Mass,
The churchyard wide extending⁠— that by the minster was⁠—
With country-people’s wailing was fill’d from end to end.
In death they did him service, as to a well-loved friend.

In those four days of mourning, indeed, it hath been said,
That marks full thirty-thousand, or even more, were paid
For sake of his soul’s welfare, and given to the poor.
Laid low was all his beauty, his life was now no more.

When God was servèd duly, and all the chants were sung,
A dreadful cry of sorrow arose from out the throng;
Out of the minster must they now bear him to his grave.
Those who were loth to lose him fresh tears and cries forth gave.

With cries of lamentation the people follow’d then;
The faces all were joyless of women and of men.
Ere in his grave they laid him they sang and read withal;
Ay! and the priests were worthy who gave him burial.

Or ever Siegfried’s widow had come unto the grave,
Her faithful heart with sorrow such bitter strife did have
That they must needs revive her with water from the spring;
Her bitterness of sorrow was past all measuring.

It was a mickle wonder that strength again she found.
With cries of pity, helping, the women throng’d around.
Then spake the Queen: “O liegemen of Siegfried, hearken ye!
I pray you of your fealty a favour grant to me⁠—

“That after all my sorrow this small grace I may gain,
And on his goodly features may set my eyes again.”
So long did she beseech them, with all her sorrow’s strength,
That they the splendid coffin must break apart at length.

And then they brought the lady to where her love did lie,
And she his fair head lifted, with white hand tenderly,
And in his death she kiss’d him⁠— the noble knight and good;
Her shining eyes, for sorrow, were weeping tears of blood.

It was a piteous parting, if ever there was one.
And so away they bore her; she could not go alone,
For in a swoon and senseless that noble wife lay low;
Her life, for weal appointed, was well-nigh lost in woe.

When now their noble master within his grave was laid,
Unmeasured was the sorrow that all his followers had,
Who from the Niblung country had borne him company;
And little joy or gladness in Siegmund was to see.

Amongst them there were many who, for their sorrow’s sake,
Till those three days were ended nor meat nor drink did take.
Yet could they not their bodies abandon utterly:
So feasting follow’d sorrow, as evermore will be.