Now was the daylight ended and night began to close.
Amid the wayworn warriors disquietude arose
For when they were to rest them and to their beds begone.
This mooted was by Hagen; and soon it was made known.

Unto the host spake Gunther: “God grant you long to live!
We now would hence to slumber; we pray thee leave to give.
We’ll come to-morrow morning if thou dost order so.”
Right pleasantly agreed he, and bade his guests to go.

One saw the people crowding the guests on every side.
Then Volker the undaunted unto the Hunfolk cried:
“How dare ye get in front of the warriors’ very feet?
If ye will not give over with trouble ye will meet.

“A fiddle-stroke so heavy on one of you I’ll lay,
That, hath he a well-wisher, that same may rue the day.
Give place there to us warriors! ’twill be the best for you.
Folk call ye knights, but little ye have akin thereto.”

Whilst spake the fiddle-player so wrathfully his mind,
The valiant Hagen turn’d him, and gave a glance behind.
Said he: “The gallant minstrel hath warn’d you properly;
Ye heroes of Kriemhilda back to your homes go ye.

“The plan ye are devising will not come off, I trow.
Come back to-morrow morning if ye have aught to do,
And leave us weary strangers this night to rest in peace;
I ween that heroes ever so do in suchlike case.”

Anon the guests were taken into a roomy hall,
Which found they well provided, to suit the warriors all,
With richly furnish’d bedsteads, that were both wide and long.
The while Dame Kriemhild plotted to do them grievous wrong.

Right goodly mats from Arras all round about were spread,
Of bright-hued wool-stuffs woven; and many a cover-bed
Wrought of Arabian samite, the finest that might be;
Whereon were borders broider’d that shone right gloriously.

The coverlets of ermine did many a man espy,
And others of black sable, whereunder they might lie
And pass the night in comfort until the dawn of day.
A king and all his courtiers so softly never lay.

“O woe, for this night’s sojourn!” so spake young Giselher
“And woe for all my comrades who hither with us fare!
Howbeit that my sister so kind a bidding gave,
By cause of her, I fear me, we all our deaths shall have.”

“Now let your mind be easy,” Hagen the thane answer’d:
“I will from now till morning myself keep watch and ward;
And well I swear to guard you until the break of day.
Till then be all untroubled; then, save himself who may!”

Then bow’d they all before him and gave him thanks therefore,
And to their beds betook them: nor was it long before
Laid down in rest and slumber was every goodly man.
To don his arms the hero⁠— Hagen the bold⁠—began.

Then up and spake the minstrel, Volker the gallant thane:
“If thou dost not disdain it, then, Hagen, I am fain
To-night to keep guard with thee, until the morning break.”
Right heartily the hero his thanks to Volker spake:

“Now God in Heaven reward you, Volker, my comrade true!
To none in all my troubles save only unto you
Would I for aidance turn me, if need should e’er befall.
One day I will repay you, if Death do not forestall.”

Then in their shining raiment they twain their bodies clad,
And each of them his buckler upon his forearm had.
They went without the castle to stand the gateway by,
And there the guests they guarded: ’twas done right faithfully.

Volker the ever-ready then from his arm unbraced
His shield⁠—it was a good one⁠— which ’gainst the wall he placed.
Back to the hall he hasten’d, and there his fiddle seized,
And as became a hero, his friends therewith he pleased.

Beneath the doorway sat he upon a seat of stone;
A braver fiddle-player in sooth had ne’er been known.
With such sweet-sounding music upon the strings he play’d,
That all the high-born strangers their thanks to Volker paid.

The sweet clang of his viol made all the house resound.
His strength and skill together right excellent were found.
More softly and more sweetly to fiddle he began,
And lull’d upon their couches full many a troubled man.

And when they all were sleeping, and he thereof was sure,
The thane took up his buckler upon his arm once more,
And went outside the chamber before the tower to stand,
To guard the sleeping strangers against Kriemhilda’s band.

When halfway spent the night was, or earlier it might be,
The gallant Volker, watching, a shining helm could see
Far off amid the darkness. ’Twas one of Kriemhild’s men,
Who all to do a mischief unto the guests were fain.

Then spake the fiddle-player: “My friend, Sir Hagen, there,
Together it is fitting that we this trouble share.
I’ve seen some folk in armour before the house but now,
Else I am much mistaken, they’ll set on us, I trow.”

“Then hold thy peace,” quoth Hagen, “and let them nearer come.
Or ever they can see us, our swords will have struck home
And split their helmets for them, with double-handed might.
We’ll send them back to Kriemhild, methinks, in sorry plight!”

One of the Hunnish warriors had soon enough espied
That guarded was the doorway; how suddenly he cried:
“The matter we intended, in sooth will not go well.
I see the fiddle-player standing as sentinel!

“A brightly polish’d helmet upon his head hath he
Of pure, hard-temper’d metal, and strong, and blemish-free.
His hauberk’s rings are glowing as fiery embers would.
By him stands also Hagen: the guests have watchmen good.”

Forthwith they turn’d them backwards. When Volker that espied,
Again to his companion in wrathful voice, he cried:
“Now let me from the palace after the warriors go;
Of Dame Kriemhilda’s liegemen somewhat I fain would know.”

“Nay, do it not,” said Hagen; “I pray you by my love!
These ever-ready warriors, if from the house you move,
Would with their swords, I doubt not, bring you such straits to face,
That I should have to help you, were’t death to all my race.

“For whilst we two together are busy in the fray,
Some two or four among them will to the house away,
And quickly force an entrance, and some foul mischief do
Unto our sleeping comrades, which we shall ever rue.”

Then Volker spake in answer: “Let it be settled so;
But that I’ve seen them coming at least we’ll let them know,
So Kriemhild’s men hereafter shall never dare deny
That they would fain against us have wrought vile treachery.”

With that, towards them Volker sent forth a lusty shout:
“Ye nimble knights, in armour why go ye thus about?
Ye warriors of Kriemhilda, if ye on foray ride,
Myself and my companion ye should have at your side!”

No word there came in answer. Then wrathful wax’d his mood:
“Fie on ye, skulking rascals!” shouted the hero good;
“Would ye have caught us sleeping, and murder’d every one?
So foul a deed on heroes hath never yet been done.”

Unto the queen right truly was told how lucklessly
Her messengers had prosper’d. Good cause for grief had she.
Then otherwise contrived she: so cruel was her mood;
By which ere long to perish were heroes bold and good.