Now let us leave the story of how they prosper’d there.
Ere then did never warriors of higher courage fare
In such like state and splendour through any king’s domain.
Of armour and apparel all had as they were fain.

The warden of the Rhineland equipp’d his warriors bold,
A thousand knights and sixty, so is the story told,
With men-at-arms nine thousand for this great festival.
They whom they left behind them ere long bewail’d them all.

Their riding gear they carried to Worms across the court.
Whereon an aged bishop of Spires spake in this sort
Unto the comely Uté: “Our friends have mind to fare
Unto this high assembly: God guard their honour there!”

Thereon unto her children did noble Uté say:
“Ye should, my noble heroes, be here content to stay:
I dreamt a dream this morning, of great dismay and dread;
How all the winged creatures within this land were dead.”

“Who puts his faith in dreamings,” then Hagen made reply,
“Knows not the proper meaning that may within them lie,
When honour, peradventure, may wholly be at stake.
I’m willing that my masters for court their leave should take.”

“We should indeed with gladness ride unto Etzel’s land:
There kings can have the service of many a hero’s hand,
When there we take our part in Kriemhilda’s revelry.”
Hagen the journey counsell’d: he rued it presently.

He would have been against it, if Gernot had not sought
With ill-advisèd speeches to set him so at naught:
Reminding him of Siegfried, the Lady Kriemhild’s lord;
Said he: “This ride to Hagen is therefore untoward.”

Then Hagen spake, of Tronjé: “Through fear I’ll not forego!
If such your will is, heroes, ’twere well to buckle to.
Gladly will I ride with you, e’en unto Etzel’s realm.”
Soon by his hand were shatter’d full many a shield and helm.

The boats were ready waiting, and many a man was there:
Whate’er they had of clothing on board forthwith they bare.
Unwearyingly wrought they until the fall of eve;
And full of joy and gladness at length their homes they leave.

Their tents and wooden cabins were pitch’d upon the green
Along the further Rhine-bank. When finish’d this had been,
The king’s fair wife besought him a while there to abide
For one night would she lay her his manly form beside.

With trumpeting and fluting the early morning brake,
To warn them to be starting: then did they ready make.
If any had a sweetheart her to his heart he laid;⁠—
For them a bitter parting King Etzel’s wife soon made!

The sons of the fair Uté for vassal had a man
As bold as he was faithful; now, when the march began,
He to the king, in secret, did thus his mind declare.
Said he: “It needs must grieve me that to this feast ye fare.”

This man by name was Rumold, a knight of ready hand.
“To whom,” so spake he, “leave ye your people and your land?
Alas, that none can turn you, ye warriors, from your mood!
This message of Kriemhilda’s to me ne’er boded good.”

“To thee my realm be trusted, and eke my little son,
Serve faithfully the ladies; so let my will be done.
Shouldst thou see any mourner, ’tis thine to cheer his life.
No harm will e’er befall us by cause of Etzel’s wife.”

The horses were awaiting the kings and eke their men;
With loving kiss departed full many a husband then,
Whose heart was full of courage, and body strong with life:
Soon to be sadly wept for by many a comely wife.

Who saw the eager warriors unto their horses go,
Saw likewise many a lady there standing in her woe.
That they for long were parting too surely did they feel,
Foreboding great disaster. Heart never thus had weal.

Now quickly the Burgundians did on their journey ride.
Then was there much disturbance through all the country wide;
On either side the mountains both women wept and men.
Howe’er their people bare it forth fared they blithely then.

The warriors of Niblung to ride with them had come,
A thousand men in hauberks, who left behind at home
Full many a lovely lady, ne’er to be seen again.
Still wrought the wounds of Siegfried in Kriemhild bitter pain.

Their course they now directed, King Gunther’s gallant men,
Up through the East Franks’ country, towards the River Main;
And thither led them Hagen, who knew the road of old.
Their marshal was Sir Dankwart, Burgundian hero bold.

As they from Eastern Franks’ land to Schwanefeld rode on,
Well might they be to all men by noble bearing known,
These princes and their kinsmen, heroes deserving fame.
The king on the twelfth morning unto the Danube came.

Then Hagen, knight of Tronjé, rode of them all foremost;
Good heart and courage gave he unto the Niblung host.
The warrior bold dismounted, down on the sand stood he,
And hastily his warhorse made fast unto a tree.

The stream was overflowing, no skiff was there to see,
The Nibelungs misdoubted, in great anxiety,
How they should e’er get over; the flood was all too wide.
The gallant knights dismounted hard by the river-side.

“Much damage,” said Sir Hagen, “may here be done to thee,
Ruler of the Rhineland! Look for thyself and see;
The river is o’erflowing, and mighty is its flood.
I trow we lose ere nightfall here many a hero good.”

“What art thou casting at me, Hagen?” the great king spake.
“Seek not again to daunt us for thine own honour’s sake.
The ford thou shalt find for us, which to that land doth cross,
That we both steeds and raiment may take there without loss.”

“My life to me,” quoth Hagen, “is not yet such a load
That I should wish to drown me in this wide, rushing flood!
For by my hands I’d sooner that many a man should die
In Etzel’s country yonder: goodwill thereto have I.

“Proud warriors and goodly, stay by the water then,
Whilst I along the river myself seek ferrymen,
Who presently will take us across to Gelfrat’s land.”
Then took the doughty Hagen his good shield in his hand.

Well clad was he in armour; his shield he did thereon,
And on his head his helmet; brightly enow it shone.
Above his harness wore he a sword so broad of blade
That wounds right deep and ghastly with either edge it made.

Then up and down the river he sought some ferryman;
He heard a splash of water; to hearken he began.
’Twas made by elfin women within a fountain fair,
Who fain to cool their bodies were bathing themselves there.

As soon as Hagen saw them he slyly towards them crept.
No sooner had they seen him than off they swiftly leapt.
That thus they had escaped him did please them mightily;
He took their raiment from them, no further harm did he.

Then spake one of the mermaids, Hadburga was she hight:
“O Hagen, noble warrior, we’ll tell to thee aright,
How thou upon this journey unto the Huns shalt thrive,
If thou, bold thane, our raiment again to us wilt give.”

They floated like to sea-birds before him on the flood.
It seemed to him their foresight must needs be sure and good.
Whatever they should tell him he, therefore, would believe.
To whatsoe’er he ask’d them, wise answers they would give.

Said she: “To Etzel’s country ye certainly may take
This ride; and I am ready my faith thereon to stake,
That ne’er did heroes journey to any kingdom yet⁠—
In truth ye may believe it⁠— who did such honour get.”

This saying made Sir Hagen within his heart right gay,
Then gave he them their garments and made no more delay.
When they their wondrous raiment forthwith had donn’d again,
The way to Etzel’s country aright they did explain.

Then spake the other mermaid, her name was Siegelind:
“Thee, Hagen, son of Aldrian, to warn I have a mind.
False was it what my sister to get her clothing said:
For comest thou to Hunsland, thou’lt sorely be betray’d.

“Ay! homeward shouldst thou turn thee; yet is there time to spare:
Seeing that ye, bold heroes, have thus been bidden there,
That all of you may perish within King Etzel’s land.
Whoe’er goes riding thither hath Death at his right hand.”

But Hagen spake in answer: “Ye fool me needlessly;
What rhyme or reason is it that all of us should die
Among the Hunfolk yonder, through hate of any man?”
More fully then their meaning to tell him they began.

And one of them spake further: “It must in sooth be so,
That none with life escapeth who to that land doth go,
Save only the king’s chaplain; that can we surely tell;
He unto Gunther’s kingdom will come back safe and well.”

Then, in grim mood, bold Hagen answer unto her made:
“ ’Twere hard to tell my masters what thou just now hast said,
That yonder ’mid the Hunfolk we all must lose our lives.
Show us across the water, thou wisest of all wives!”

She said: “Against this journey since thou wilt nothing hear,
There yonder in a hostel, unto the river near,
A ferryman is dwelling⁠— and none there is elsewhere.”
Then knowing what he wanted he would not tarry there.

But one of them call’d after the knight discomfited:
“Nay, wait awhile, Sir Hagen, thou wilt too fast ahead!
Hear better how we tell you to cross the sands aright;
The warden of the marchland by name is Else hight.

“He hath a brother also, Gelfrat the knight is he,
A great lord in Bavaria. Not easy will it be
For you to pass his marches. Ye ought to well beware⁠—
And with the boatman also ye needs must deal with care.

“So grim is he of humour, he will not let you go,
Unless unto the hero some good intent ye show:
Would ye by him be ferried, give him the payment due.
This land he hath in keeping, and is to Gelfrat true.

“And if he come not quickly shout to him o’er the flood,
Say ‘Amelrich’ your name is;⁠— he was a hero good,
Who, by his foes’ contrivance, was driven from this land⁠—
Whene’er his name is spoken the steersman is at hand.”

The haughty Hagen bow’d him before these womenfolk:
But listening in silence no word again he spoke.
Then higher up the river he walk’d, along the sand;
And there, across the water, he saw a hostel stand.

Then lustily began he to call across the flood:
“Now, steersman, fetch me over!” shouted the warrior good;
“Of ruddy gold an armlet I’ll give thee for reward.
The matter of my journey, I tell thee, presses hard.”

The boatman was so wealthy to serve he would not brook,
Wherefore a fee but seldom from anyone he took;
His underlings were likewise of high and haughty mood.
So, still, alone stood Hagen on this side of the flood.

Then with such might he shouted that, lo, from shore to shore
The river rang: the hero of strength had such great store:
“Now Amelrich come fetch ye, Lord Else’s man am I,
Who had to leave this country by force of enmity.”

High on his sword an armlet towards him did he hold⁠—
All bright and shining was it, compact of ruddy gold⁠—
That he, therefore, might row him across to Gelfrat’s land.
Then took the haughty boatman himself the oar in hand.

The ferryman was churlish and obstinate of will⁠—
The lust of great possession doth often end in ill⁠—
He wished to earn from Hagen that band of gold so red:
But from the warrior’s weapon grim death he got instead.

The ferryman pull’d stoutly unto the hitherside;
But when the man he found not, whose name he had heard cried,
Then was he wroth in earnest. At Hagen’s face look’d he,
And thus unto the hero he spake right bitterly:

“It may be that thou bearest the name of Amelrich;
To him of whom I mind me thou art in no wise like;
By father and by mother he brother was to me.
And as thou hast betray’d me, thou here canst bide!” said he.

“Not I, by God Almighty!” thereon, did Hagen speak:
“I am a stranger warrior, and help for others seek.
Take now in friendly fashion this wage I offer you
To put me o’er the water; I am your friend right true.”

The ferryman made answer: “Nay, that shall never be!
My well-belovèd masters have many an enemy;
Therefore I row no strangers across unto their land.
If life thou prizest, quickly step out upon the sand.”

“Now, do not so,” quoth Hagen, “for sorry is my mood,
But take from me in kindness this band of gold so good,
A thousand men and horses across the stream to row.”
The boatman grim gave answer: “That will I never do.”

A sturdy oar he lifted, mighty and broad of blade,
And struck a blow at Hagen; an erring stroke he made,
And in the boat he stagger’d and on his knee fell down.
A ferryman so gruesome Hagen had never known.

And when the haughty stranger still more he would provoke,
A steering board he wielded, and into splinters broke
About the head of Hagen. A stalwart man was he;
Whence came to Else’s boatman much sorrow presently.

In anger fiercely raging, Hagen reach’d out his hand
In haste to seize his scabbard, wherefrom he drew a brand,
And smote his head from off him, and dash’d it to the ground.
Among the proud Burgundians the news flew quickly round.

But at the self-same moment when he the boatman slew,
The skiff stream-downwards drifted, which gave him cause to rue;
For ere in hand he brought it to weary he began,
Then mighty was the rowing of royal Gunther’s man.

With sturdy strokes the stranger turn’d it about again,
Until within his hand-grasp the stout oar broke in twain.
He would, to reach the warriors, a sandy beach have found:
And having not another, how quickly now he bound

The splinters with his shield-strap! ’twas but a slender band.
Towards a coppice steering, he brought the boat to land.
There on the bank-side standing he found his masters three,
And liegemen came to meet him⁠— a goodly company.

Him with kind welcome greeted these noble knights and good.
But, when they look’d within it, the wherry reek’d with blood
That from the great wound spurted as he the boatman slew;
Then from the warriors Hagen had questions not a few.

No sooner had King Gunther seen the hot blood all red
Within the vessel washing, than, straightway, thus he said:
“Come, why not tell me, Hagen, where is the boatman gone?
I ween your strength so mighty hath him of life fordone.”

With lying words he answer’d: “As I the boat there found
A desert heath alongside, my hand the rope unbound;
But never of a boatman have I to-day had sight,
Nor here by fault on my part, hath any had despite.”

Then one of the Burgundians, the noble Gernot, said:
“To-day I needs must sorrow for friends soon to be dead;
Since we have found no boatman waiting for us at hand,
How are we to come over? For that in fear I stand.”

Right loudly then cried Hagen: “Lay down upon the green,
Ye squires, the horses’ trappings: I mind me I have been
The best of all the rowers that on the Rhine were found.
I’ll wager I can bring you across to Gelfrat’s ground.”

That they might be the sooner ferried across the flood,
They drave the horses in it; whose swimming was so good,
That, strong as was the current, they cross’d it none the less;
Though some far downwards drifted in very weariness.

Their gold and all their baggage unto the ship they bore,
Since from this journey’s ending they now could turn no more.
And Hagen was the captain; he ferried to the strand
Full many a gallant warrior into the unknown land.

Of noble knights a thousand first brought he to the shore,
And after these his warriors, and ever there were more:
Of men-at-arms nine thousand he ferried safe to land,
Nor all day long did weary the gallant Tronian’s hand.

When he the whole in safety across the flood had brought,
The warrior bold and eager of that strange story thought
Which the wild water-maidens erewhile to him had said.
Then for King Gunther’s chaplain the days were well-nigh sped!

Amidst the chapel baggage he sought and found the priest,
Who on his hand was leaning, that on the Pyx did rest.
But little that avail’d him when Hagen him did spy:
The all-forsaken chaplain must suffer grievously.

Out of the skiff he swung him, ere yet a moment pass’d,
Though many voices shouted: “Stay him, good sirs, avast.”
Young Giselher fell a-cursing in anger at the sight;
Yet would not Hagen heed him, but did it in despite.

Then spake the noble Gernot, the lord of Burgundy:
“This chaplain’s death, O Hagen, now what avails it thee?
Had any other done it it would have pleased you ill.
For what default or reason sought’st thou the priest to kill.”

As best he could he floated, and well escaped had he,
Had any dared to help him; but that was not to be,
Because the mightful Hagen was of too angry mood:
He thrust him under water⁠— that seem’d to no one good.

Now when the wretched chaplain no help saw in his need,
Backward again he turn’d him; sore was his plight indeed.
Yet though to swim he knew not, God help’d him with His hand,
That safe and sound in body he got once more to land.

There stood the hapless chaplain and shook his raiment out;
And thereby well knew Hagen that now there was no doubt
But true the tale was, told him by those wild water-wives.
Thought he: “Then all these warriors perforce must lose their lives.”

When that the three kings’ lieges the ship had all unstored,
And unto land had carried whate’er they had on board,
Hagen to pieces hew’d it and flung it in the flood.
Whereover marvell’d greatly those warriors bold and good.

“Why dost thou thus, O brother?” to him did Dankwart say:
“How shall we cross the water when on our homeward way,
We ride again from Hunsland unto the Rhine country?”
“Look you,” to him said Hagen, “that thing can never be!”

Then spake the lord of Tronjé: “This do I with the thought
That, should we on this journey have any cravens brought,
Who fain would basely leave us, through cowardice of mind,
They must a shameful ending here in this river find.”

A man there was amongst them from Burgundy who came,
By might of hand a hero, and Volker was his name.
Right cunningly he utter’d all that was in his mind,
And whatsoe’er did Hagen this minstrel good did find.

The chargers now were ready, each packhorse had its load.
So far, the host no damage had suffered on the road
To daunt them, or to trouble, except the chaplain’s loss;
Who needs must to the Rhineland on foot the country cross.