Within the door an entrance thus gallant Dankwart made;
The household folk of Etzel to stand aside he bade.
The whole of his apparel bespatter’d was with gore;
A mighty naked weapon within his hand he bore.

Then loudly Dankwart shouted before the assembled throng:
“Bestir thee, brother Hagen, thou sittest all too long!
To thee and God in Heaven appeal I in our need:
Yeomen and knights together lie in the hostel dead.”

And he cried back in answer: “And who hath done it then?”
Quoth Dankwart: “The Lord Bloedel, together with his men.
But dearly hath he paid it, that would I have you know.
I smote his head from off him; mine own hand gave the blow.”

“ ’Tis but a little grievance,” quoth Hagen of Tronjé;
“Whene’er one has occasion of any thane to say,
That he by hands of warrior was of his life fordone,
So much the less fair women for him have need to moan.

“Now tell me, brother Dankwart, why all so red ye be?
Methinks that thou art wounded and suffer’st grievously.
If in the land he liveth who this on thee hath done,
Except the foul fiend save him, his life’s as good as gone.”

“You see me whole and hearty; with blood my clothes are red,
But from the wounds of others it thus hath happenèd;
And they have been so many that I have slain to-day,
That verily their number on oath I could not say.”

He answer’d: “Brother Dankwart, see to the door do thou,
And let not of the Hunsmen a single man come through.
I’ll reckon with these warriors, as need we have, in faith!
Our men-at-arms are lying in undeservèd death.”

“If chamberlain I must be,” the gallant man replied,
“To serve such mighty rulers, I am well satisfied.
I’ll answer for the stairway, as honour’s dear to me.”
Unto Kriemhilda’s warriors naught could more direful be.

“It is to me a marvel,” Hagen thereafter spake:
“What meaneth all the fluster these Hunnish warriors make?
They think they well could spare him, who yonder door doth hold,
And hath these high concernments to the Burgundians told!

“Long time about Kriemhilda have I been wont to hear,
That she her bitter sorrow was not content to bear.
Now drink we to her darling! for royal wine we’ll call!
The princeling of the Hunfolk shall be the first of all!”

Then the child Ortlieb slew he, Hagen, that warrior good,
So that from sword-blade downward flow’d o’er his hands the blood;
The infant’s head was sever’d and on the queen’s lap fell.
Then rose amongst the warriors a slaughter horrible.

With double-handed sword-stroke he dealt a blow at large
Against the man of learning, who had the child in charge.
His head all in a moment before the table lay:
In good sooth for the teacher it was but sorry pay!

He saw by Etzel’s table a certain minstrelman,
And Hagen in his fury to fall on him began;
His left hand on the fiddle he lopp’d off suddenly:
“There’s somewhat thou canst carry for news to Burgundy!”

“Woe for my hand!” cried Werbel the minstrel: “wilt thou say
What evil I have done thee, Lord Hagen of Tronjé?
In all good faith I journey’d unto your master’s land;
The notes how can I finger since I have lost my hand?”

But little heeded Hagen, though he ne’er fiddled more.
He wreak’d within the palace a vengeance grim and sore
Upon the knights of Etzel, of whom a host he slew.
Death dealt he in the palace to people not a few.

The ever-ready Volker up from the table sprang:
And in his hand right loudly his fiddle-bow outrang.
Right fearsome was the music that Gunther’s minstrel play’d;
Ay! ’mid the gallant Hunsmen what enemies he made!

Upsprang, too, from the table, the noble rulers three:
They gladly would have stay’d it, ere mischief worse should be.
But all their wit avail’d not the rising storm to quell,
When Volker joining Hagen to such wild raving fell.

When saw the Lord of Rhineland the fight could not be stay’d,
The prince himself fought also, and many a wide wound made
Upon his foemen’s bodies, their shining mail-coats through.
A hand-strong hero was he: as now all grimly knew.

The stalwart Gernot likewise was forward in the strife;
Ay! he among the Hunsmen took many a hero’s life,
A keen-edged weapon wielding⁠— by Rüdeger ’twas given.
By him were Etzel’s warriors right grievously bedriven.

The young son of Dame Uté into the fight now dash’d,
And gloriously his broadsword right through the helmets crash’d⁠—
To grief of Etzel’s warriors of the Hungarian land.
There wrought were many marvels by gallant Gis’lher’s hand.

Howe’er the kings and liegemen were valiant in the fight,
Above them all right plainly did Giselher in might
Stand forth against the foemen; he was a hero good.
Such wounds he dealt, that many fell weltering in their blood.

The men of Etzel also stood stoutly to the foe.
There one might see the strangers go hacking to and fro
With their bright glancing weapons, all through the royal hall.
And horrid shrieks from all sides upon the ear did fall.

They who were on the outside would to their friends within;
But found that at the doorways small vantage they could win.
Out from the hall right gladly would they within it fare:
But none of them would Dankwart let up or down the stair.

Thereby around the gateways a mighty press arose,
And din of helmets also beneath the broadsword blows.
And thus the gallant Dankwart fell into sore distress:
But that his brother heeded, as bound in faithfulness.

For thereupon to Volker Sir Hagen cried aloud:
“Now look you yonder, comrade, how round my brother crowd
The Hunnish warriors closely, and blows upon him rain:
Friend, go and help my brother, or we shall lose the thane.”

“That will I do full surely,” answer’d the minstrelman;
And straightway through the palace his fiddling he began.
His hand with his stout broadsword full often music made;
To him the Rhenish warriors unbounded thanks repaid.

And soon the gallant Volker to Dankwart came and said:
“To-day no little trouble hath fallen on your head.
Your brother hath enjoin’d me to lend a helping hand:
If you’ll look to the outside, within the door I’ll stand.”

Dankwart the ever-ready without the gateway stood;
Well guarded he the stairway, let any come who would.
One heard the clang of weapons in the bold hero’s hand.
The like, within, did Volker of the Burgundian land.

Loudly the valiant minstrel shouted across the throng:
“The hall is closed, friend Hagen, with bolt and barrier strong.
The door of Etzel’s chamber is safely barr’d as well:
Two heroes’ hands that hold it a thousand bolts excel.”

When Hagen, Lord of Tronjé, knew that the door was fast,
His shield back on his shoulders the goodly chieftain cast.
First fell he to avenging the ills upon him wrought:
Of longer life his foemen had then but little thought.

The Prince of Bern no sooner had seen how matters went,
And how the mighty Hagen so many helmets rent,
Than sprang the Amelung ruler upon a bench: quoth he:
“The liquor Hagen giveth is vile as drink can be!”

The host was full of sorrow⁠— good cause had he to rue:
What friends of him belovèd before his eyes they slew!
And hardly from his foemen unscath’d himself came he;
In grief he sat⁠—what profit was it a king to be?

The mighty Queen Kriemhilda to Dietrich call’d and said;
“With all your manhood give me, O noble knight, your aid,
By all those princes’ merits erewhile of Amelung land:
Should Hagen once have reach’d me, my death were close at hand.”

“And how am I to help you,” Lord Dietrich answering said,
“Great queen, when I have reason myself to be afraid?
These followers of Gunther with wrath so sorely burn,
That I with no one’s safety can now myself concern.”

“Nay, say not so, Lord Dietrich, thou noble knight and good,
This day make plain to all men thy kind and virtuous mood,
In that thou hence wilt help me: or I am like to die.”
Her fears had brought Kriemhilda to sore anxiety.

“Can I do aught to help you, I verily will try;
Since never have I witness’d, for many years gone by,
To such deep wrath enkindled so many a warrior good.
Ay! through the riven helmets I see the surging blood.”

This thane of proven valour with power began to shout;
Like unto horn of bison his voice rang loudly out,
Until its strength re-echoed the wide-wall’d stronghold round.
The mightiness of Dietrich was great beyond all bound.

When Gunther heard the clamour proceeding from this man
Above the noise of battle, to hearken he began.
Said he: “The voice of Dietrich is to my hearing plain;
I trow that our retainers some friend of his have slain.

“I see him on the table, he beckons with his hand.
Ye friends of mine and kinsfolk from the Burgundian land,
Cease fighting for a season, and let one hear and see
What to the thane hath happen’d through them who follow me.”

And when the royal Gunther besought and gave command,
They, in the stress of battle, halted with sword in hand.
So great the power he wielded, not one durst strike a blow
Whilst him of Bern he challenged, with readiness enow.

Said he: “Most noble Dietrich, what hath to you been done
By any of my people? I’m willing, be it known,
Amends and satisfaction right readily to give.
Were any man to wrong you, right deeply should I grieve.”

Then answer’d the Lord Dietrich: “Naught hath been done to me;
But let me leave the palace with your safe-conduct free,
And get with my retainers from this fell strife away:
For that I’ll owe you service assuredly for aye.”

Then unto him spake Wolfhart: “Why ask ye grace so soon?
That door, I trow, the fiddler hath not so closely done
But we can force it open enough to get away.”
“Now hold thy peace,” cried Dietrich, “the devil thou dost play.”

Then spake the royal Gunther: “That will I let you do.
Out of this place depart ye, many be ye or few,
But not a single foeman⁠— here stay they everyone.
They have anent these Hunsfolk so basely to me done.”

When Dietrich heard that saying, he took beneath his arm
The noble queen, sore stricken with sorrow and alarm.
Upon his other arm he took Etzel with him then;
There also went with Dietrich six hundred goodly men.

Then up and spake the margrave, the noble Rüdeger:
“If any from the palace be yet allowed to fare,
Who still are fain to serve you, to us let it be known:
For thus may peace enduring betwixt good friends be sown.”

Whereto made answer Gis’lher, of the Burgundian land:
“To you shall peace and pardon be granted at our hand,
Since you and your retainers were e’er of faithful heart.
You all shall, unmolested, hence with your friends depart.”

When Rüdeger the margrave departed from the hall,
Five hundred men went with him or more, belike, in all,
Who came from Bechelaren, liegemen and friends as well;
By whom unto King Gunther great mischief soon befell.

Meanwhile a Hunnish warrior, who saw how Etzel went
By Dietrich’s side, to profit thereby was all intent;
But with his sword the minstrel fetch’d at him such a slice,
That at the feet of Etzel his head lay in a trice.

When that the country’s ruler had got outside the place,
He stopp’d and look’d behind him towards where Volker was:
“Woe’s me for this dread stranger; a cruel destiny
It is that all my warriors must dead before him lie!

“And woe upon this feasting,” the noble sovran cried,
“For one, by name of Volker, is fighting there inside
Like to a savage boar, and yet a minstrel he!
I thank my Lord and Saviour I’m from that devil free!

“Right evil sound his measures, his strokes are bloody red;
Ay, and his tunes have smitten full many a hero dead.
I know not what against us this minstrel doth attest,
For never have I harbour’d so downright ill a guest!”

They’d let from out the palace as many as they chose;
Then from the folk within it a fearful din arose.
The guests for what had happen’d a dire revenge would have.
Ay! Volker the undaunted, what helmets then he clave!

Gunther, the noble ruler, turn’d at that noise around:
“Hear’st thou yon music, Hagen, which Volker there doth sound
Amid the Hunfolk fiddling, who through the door would go?
He hath a blood-red straker upon his fiddle-bow!”

“It grieves me beyond measure,” Hagen in answer spake,
“That I before that warrior a seat in hall should take.
I have been his companion, as he was likewise mine,
And we shall aye be faithful if hence we ever win.

“Now mark, great king, how Volker doth thee and thine uphold
Right willingly he earneth thy silver and thy gold.
Through steel of hardest temper his fiddle-bow will smite;
He breaks from off the helmets their shining crests and bright.

“I never saw a fiddler so nobly hold his own
As this same warrior Volker throughout the day hath done.
On helmet and on buckler his music ringeth clear:
A gallant horse deserves he and raiment rich to wear.”

Of those of Hunnish kindred who had been in that hall,
Not one was left within it alive amongst them all.
Now silenced was the uproar; for none there were to fight:
Aside was laid the weapon of every gallant knight.