“Now do ye off your helmets,” quoth Hagen, the bold knight,
“For I and my companion will guard ye all aright.
And should the men of Etzel a fresh attack essay,
So will I warn my masters with all the speed I may.”

The head was then uncover’d of many a warrior good;
They sat upon the fallen, who lay there steep’d in blood,
And had to death been smitten so lately by their hand.
By many evil glances the noble guests were scann’d.

Before the fall of evening the king his measures took⁠—
The queen thereto assenting⁠— that with some better luck
The Hunnish knights might venture. Full twenty thousand men
Were seen before him standing: to battle must they, then.

Thereon with furious onslaught the strangers were attack’d.
And Dankwart, Hagen’s brother, a man right swift to act,
Sprang from his lords, the foemen before the door to rout;⁠—
It seem’d that he must perish, but safely gat he out.

The deadly struggle lasted till stay’d it was by night.
As well became good heroes, the guests maintain’d the fight
Against the men of Etzel one whole long summer day.
And ah, what gallant warriors about them dying lay!

’Twas at the summer solstice this slaughter great befell,
Whereby the Dame Kriemhilda avenged her heartache well
Upon her nearest kinsfolk and many another wight.
From that time royal Etzel knew nevermore delight.

The day for them was ended in great anxiety.
It seem’d to them ’twere better a speedy death to die,
Than linger there, awaiting some dread, unheard-of pain.
Therefore the haughty warriors to beg a truce were fain.

The king, by word, besought they to come unto them there.
These heroes, blood-bespatter’d and soil’d with armour-wear,
From out the palace follow’d the noble kings all three;
They knew not to what hearer to plead their misery.

Both Etzel and Kriemhilda came thither them before.
The land was their possession: their host grew more and more.
The king spake to the strangers: “Say, what will ye of me?
A truce ye would be granted? Such thing can hardly be

“After such insult grievous as ye on me have cast,
(Nor shall ye profit by it if life for me should last)
My child, that ye have slain me, and many of my kin.
Peace and atonement, surely, ye cannot hope to win!”

Whereto made answer Gunther: “By dire need we were led.
My people all were lying before thy heroes dead
Within the hostel yonder: what pretext did I lend?
To thee in good faith came I, I thought thou wert my friend.”

Then Giselher, the youngest of the Burgundian three:
“Ye chiefs,” cried he, “of Etzel, who living yet may be,
How have I wrong’d ye, warriors? In what am I to blame?
Unto this country riding in kindly mood I came.”

They answer’d: “Every city throughout the land with woe
Is fill’d through this thy kindness. Ay, glad were we, I trow,
If thou hadst ne’er come hither from Worms beyond the Rhine.
The country thou hast orphan’d, with brothers twain of thine.”

Thereon, in wrathful humour, Gunther the warrior spake:
“If of this bitter hatred an ending ye would make
With us, unhappy strangers, ’twere better for us both!
’Tis for no fault on our part what Etzel to us doth.”

Then to the guests the host said: “Your troubles and my own
Are nowise to be liken’d. The burden on me thrown
Of shame and loss together which I have had to bear;⁠—
For this not one among you hence with his life shall fare.”

Thereon the stalwart Gernot made answer to the king:
“So then may God incline you to do a friendly thing!
An ye must slay us strangers, then let us come to you
From here unto the open. Thus honour bids you do.

“Whate’er to us may happen, be it done out of hand!
So many whole men have ye who us will dare withstand,
That none of us, strife-weary, alive they’ll let away.
For how long are we warriors in this distress to stay?”

The warriors of Etzel would have agreed thereto
That they outside the palace be granted leave to go.
But when Kriemhilda heard it, sorely aggrieved was she.
Then for the outcast strangers no hope of peace could be.

“Nay, nay, ye Hunnish warriors, the thing ye have in thought⁠—
In good faith I advise ye⁠— see that ye do it not.
These murder-wreaking fellows let not without the hall,
Else shall right deadly sorrows upon your kinsmen fall.

“Though not another living save Uté’s sons there were⁠—
These same, my noble brothers⁠— and they but to the air
Came out to cool their hauberks, your hope were all forlorn;⁠—
More valiant warriors never into this world were born.”

Then Giselher, the youngest, said: “Fairest sister mine,
Right ill I did to trust you, when from beyond the Rhine
Unto this land thou bad’st me into this direful strait.
How have I from the Hunsfolk deserved this cruel fate?

“To thee I e’er was faithful, I never did thee hurt.
And on the understanding I hither rode to court
That thou, most noble sister, wert well-disposed to me.
Be merciful towards us: not elsewise can it be!”

“I cannot show you mercy; unmerciful am I.
For me hath Tronian Hagen wrought so much misery
It may not be atoned for as long as I have life.
Ye all must pay the forfeit;” so answer’d Etzel’s wife.

“Yet will ye Hagen only to me as hostage give,
I will not say for certain I may not let you live⁠—
Seeing ye are my brothers and of one mother bred;⁠—
Then with these chiefs assembled I may of pardon rede.”

“Now God in Heaven forefend it!” Gernot in answer said:
“Were there a thousand of us, we sooner all were dead⁠—
Though of thy kith and kindred⁠— ere we gave up to thee
A single man as hostage: nay, that can never be.”

“Then are we doom’d to perish!” made answer Giselher;
“Yet no one shall deprive us of any knightly gear.
Here, as before, abide we, would any us assail,
For ne’er to any comrade did I in fealty fail.”

Then spake the gallant Dankwart (by him ’twas meetly done):
“In sooth my brother Hagen standeth not yet alone!
They who a truce deny us may yet have cause to rue;
Of that we’ll make you certain⁠— take ye my word as true!”

The queen spake to her warriors: “Ye men of courage high,
Go closer to the stairway, avenge mine injury!
Then will I be your debtor, as I by all means should.
I would requite on Hagen his overweening mood.

“Let no man leave the palace, I charge ye above all;
I will, at the four corners, have fire set to the hall:
So all the wrongs I’ve suffer’d right well avenged shall be.”
The warriors of Etzel were ready speedily.

Those that without were standing they drave the hall within
By smiting and by shooting; and fearful was the din.
Yet never would the princes their faithful men forsake;
Their fealty to each other could neither of them break.

Then Etzel’s wife gave bidding to set alight the hall.
And so with fire were tortured those warriors’ bodies all.
Caught by the wind, the palace was presently aflame;
I ween that people never to such dire anguish came.

“Oh, woe upon this horror!” cried many a one inside:
“For us it had been better had we in battle died.
May God have pity on us! lost evermore are we!
On us the queen her anger now wreaks infernally.”

Quoth one within the palace: “Needs must we all lie dead!
What profits us the greeting that from the king we had?
The burning heat so sorely with thirst doth torture me,
I trow that in this torment my life will quickly flee.”

Then Hagen spake, of Tronjé: “Ye noble knights and good,
Whoe’er by thirst is troubled may quench it here with blood.
In heat like this ’tis better than wine of any kind,
And at this time, moreover, no better may ye find.”

So went one of the warriors to where a corpse he found:
He knelt to where the wound was, his helmet he unbound,
And then he fell to drinking the oozing stream of blood;
Unused as he was to it, he thought it passing good.

“Requite thee God, Sir Hagen,” that man so weary spake,
“Seeing that thou hast taught me so well my thirst to slake!
A better wine right seldom hath been pour’d out for me.
Live I for some while longer, I’ll aye be bound to thee.”

The rest being told about it, and how he found it good,
Then were there many others who also drank the blood.
Thereby each one among them began to gain new life⁠—
In dear ones it was paid for by many a goodly wife.

Within the hall about them the sparks fell thick around,
Upon their shields they caught them and turn’d them to the ground.
The fire and smoke together distress’d them terribly.
I trow that heroes never felt greater misery.

Then Tronian Hagen shouted: “Stand closer to the wall!
Let not the burning embers upon your helm-bands fall,
But in the blood more deeply trample them with your feet:
This feast the queen hath made us is but a sorry treat!”

In such distressful doings the night to ending wore,
And still the gallant minstrel kept watch the house before
With Hagen his companion; upon their shields they leant,
From Etzel’s folk awaiting some further detriment.

Then spake the fiddle-player: “Now go we to the hall:
So shall the Huns imagine that each of us and all
Have perish’d in this torture that hath on us been done;
Yet shall they see us meet them, in battle, everyone.”

Then Giselher, the youngest of the Burgundians, spake:
“A cool wind is arising, I trow the day will break.
Now grant us, God of Heaven, on better times to fall!
For us my sister Kriemhild hath made ill festival.”

Then spake there yet another: “The dawning I can see;
And since for us naught better is ever like to be,
Do on your armour, heroes; see to your safety all;⁠—
King Etzel’s wife, I doubt not, will quickly on us fall.”

The host might well imagine that all the guests were slain
By dint of all their labours, or by the fiery pain;
Yet still of them were living six hundred gallant wights,
Than whom no king whatever had any better knights.

They who the strangers guarded had fail’d not to espy
That still the guests were living, in spite of injury
And pains that had befallen the lords and liegemen too;
Quite sound they saw them pacing the chamber to and fro.

’Twas told unto Kriemhilda that they were safe and well.
Whereto the queen made answer: “It ne’er were possible
That through the fiery torment any of them have stay’d!
I’d rather take for granted that all of them lie dead.”

The princes and their liegemen were fain enough to live,
Had anyone been willing mercy to them to give.
None could they find of any within the Hunnish land!
So to avenge their dying they sought with willing hand.

Towards the dawn of morning, they had, for greeting fair,
A dire assault of battle: in straits the heroes were.
Though thickly all amongst them stout javelins were thrown,
The brave and noble warriors like true knights held their own.

The zeal of Etzel’s people was quicken’d by desire,
That they from Queen Kriemhilda might earn the promised hire;
Moreover they were eager to do the king’s command.
And so no few among them found speedy death at hand.

Of promising and giving might wondrous tales be told.
She bade her folk on bucklers to bring the ruddy gold;
She gave to all who craved it and would accept her fee.
Ay! ne’er was greater guerdon spent for an enemy.

A mighty force of warriors came in their panoply.
To them cried gallant Volker: “Here waiting still are we!
I ne’er saw knights more gladly go forth to face the foe
Than these who the king’s bounty have taken, for our woe.”

Then many of them shouted: “Come nigh, ye heroes, pray,
That we may have our ending⁠— ay, come without delay!
Here none there are remaining but have been doom’d to die!”
With shafts one saw their bucklers all bristling speedily.

What have I more to tell you? A good twelve hundred men
Made onset sore upon them, again and yet again.
The strangers cool’d their fury by wounding many a one⁠—
No truce could be between them; one saw the life blood run

From wounds of deadly deepness; and many were there slain;
And every man among them one heard for friends complain.
The mighty king and noble lost all his bravest there,
For whom their loving kinsfolk sore sorrow had to bear.