So great a sound of mourning on every side was heard,
From palace walls and turrets the echoes all were stirr’d.
By one of Dietrich’s liegemen of Bern ’twas heard as well;
How swiftly then he started the direful news to tell.

Unto the prince then spake he: “Hearken, my Lord Dietrich,
As long as I’ve been living, ne’er have I heard the like
Of such unearthly wailing as I have heard but now:
Some harm unto King Etzel himself hath come, I trow.

“How else would all the people be in distress so dread?
The king, or may be Kriemhild, must one of them be dead⁠—
Slain by those daring strangers, who bore them enmity:
And many goodly warriors are wailing bitterly.”

Then spake of Bern the hero: “My trusty lieges dear,
Now be ye not too hasty! what hath befallen here
Was wrought by homeless warriors, by dire distresses driven;
And let them use the freedom that I to them have given.”

Then spake the gallant Wolfhart: “I will myself be gone
And ask about the matter, what ’tis that they have done.
And then I will report it to you, my master dear,
When yonder I discover what mean the cries we hear.”

Thereon Lord Dietrich answer’d: “When one has wrath to face,
Full oft, at ill-timed questions, ’tis found to be the case
That warriors too swiftly are apt offence to take:
In truth I will not, Wolfhart, that you the quest should make.”

Thereon he summon’d Helfrich right speedily to go;
And from the men of Etzel he bade him get to know⁠—
Or even from the strangers⁠— what doings there had been;
For ne’er such great lamenting of people was there seen.

The envoy made inquiry: “What hath there here been done?”
Then answer’d one among them: “Now is for ever gone
All that we had of pleasure in this Hungarian land!⁠—
Here Rüdeger lies slaughter’d by the Burgundians’ hand.

“Of those who enter’d with him not one came out again.”
Then verily to Helfrich ne’er could be greater pain.
In sooth he ne’er had carried news so unwillingly:
The messenger to Dietrich went weeping bitterly.

“What hast thou,” then said Dietrich, “for us discoverèd?
And wherefore, warrior Helfrich, thy tears so freely shed?”
“Good cause have I for weeping,” answer’d the noble thane:
“Good Rüdeger is lying by the Burgundians slain.”

The knight of Bern made answer: “God grant that may not be!
That were a fearful vengeance, and foul fiend’s pleasantry:
Howe’er were such requital deserved by Rüdeger?
For well am I persuaded he held the strangers dear.”

Thereto made Wolfhart answer: “If they this deed have done
It verily shall cost them the life of everyone!
To us ’twould be disgraceful if this we were to stand,
For Rüdeger has served us right often with his hand.”

But Amelung’s chieftain bade them better inform’d to be.
Meanwhile within his window right mournfully sat he;
And Hildebrand enjoin’d he unto the guests to go,
That he whate’er had happen’d from them might surely know.

That warrior bold in battle, the ancient Hildebrand,
Nor shield nor any weapon took with him in his hand;
He to the guests was going in courtesy alone.
But sore were the upbraidings made by his sister’s son.

For spake the fiery Wolfhart: “Wilt thou so simply go?
Then certes some misusage thou wilt not fail to know!
So, full of grief and trouble, thou needs must homeward fare:
But if thou takest thy weapons they each will have a care.”

Then did the ancient gird him e’en as the stripling bade.
But lo! before he knew it, in fighting gear array’d,
Were standing Dietrich’s warriors, with drawn sword everyone.
This thing the hero liked not, and gladly had forgone.

He asked where they were going. “Along with you we’ll fare!
Perchance Hagen of Tronjé so much the less may dare
With mocking speech to meet you⁠— which well he knows to use.”
When that he heard, the warrior no longer could refuse.

The gallant Volker saw them in armour fully dight,
Those knights of Bern come marching, all Dietrich’s men of might;
Their swords were girt upon them, they carried shield in hand.
Unto his lords he told it of the Burgundian land.

Then spake the fiddle-player: “Yonder I see them go,
The followers of Dietrich⁠— in semblance of a foe,
With weapons and in helmets: us mean they to withstand.
I trow for us poor exiles misfortune is at hand.”

E’en at the self-same moment came Hildebrand to him,
And at his feet his buckler he set upon its rim.
The followers of Gunther to question then he sought:
“Alas! what harm, good heroes, to you hath Rüdeger wrought?

“Me hath my master Dietrich sent unto you to say:
‘If any one among you hath by his hand this day
Laid low the noble margrave⁠— as we are told by some⁠—
An injury so grievous we ne’er could overcome.’ ”

Then Hagen spake of Tronjé: “No lie the tidings are;
Though fain I were to grant you, for love of Rüdeger,
That they had lied who told you, and he were still in life:
He must be ever wept for by man and maid and wife.”

When all knew, of a surety, that Rüdeger was dead,
The warriors bewail’d him, as love and fealty bade.
From each of Dietrich’s liegemen one saw the tears-drops fall
O’er chin and beard descending: sore was the grief of all.

Then Siegestab outspeaking⁠— the duke from Bern⁠—said he:
“Forever now is ended the hospitality
That Rüdeger aye show’d us after our days of pain.
The Comfort of the exile lies by you heroes slain.”

Then from among the Amelungs, the warrior Wolfwin said:
“Were I this day before me to see my father dead,
Ne’er could I feel more sorrow than at this stricken life:
Alas! who now will comfort the worthy margrave’s wife?”

Thereon in mood of anger the thane Sir Wolfhart cried:
“Who on so many a foray shall now the warriors guide,
As heretofore the margrave hath times right often done?
Alas, most noble Rüdeger, that thou from us art gone!”

There Helferich and Wolfbrand and Helmot also were,
With all their friends, bewailing the death of Rüdeger;
And Hildebrand for sobbing could ask no more of aught.
He spake: “Now do ye, warriors, that which my lord hath sought,

“Give Rüdeger’s dead body to us from out the hall,
With whom, in very sorrow, our joys are ended all;
And let us now requite him for all that he hath done
For us, in faithful friendship, and many another one.

“We also here are strangers, like the thane Rüdeger,
Why do ye keep us waiting? Let us his body bear
Away, to him our service e’en after death to give:
Far rather had we done it, whilst he were yet alive!”

“No service is so worthy,” then the King Gunther spake,
“As that for a dead comrade a friend doth undertake,
And steadfast faith I call it, where’er the same I find.
Ye pay him honour rightly, to you he hath been kind.”

“How long must we be pleading?” Wolfhart the warrior said:
“Since our best Consolation by you is stricken dead,
And we, alas! no longer the good thereof may have,
So let us take the chieftain and lay him in his grave.”

Thereto made answer Volker: “He shall be given by none!
Come to the hall and take him, here where the thane, fordone,
With deadly wounds disfigured, lies in the bloody pool:
That were to do your duty to Rüdeger in full.”

Thereon bold Wolfhart answer’d: “Sir Minstrel, God doth know
No need have ye to taunt us, ye’ve done us harm enow.
Durst I offend my master, you’d be the worse for this,
But we must pass it over, since strife forbidden us is.”

Then spake the fiddle-player: “Fear claims too much, I trow,
When all that is forbidden a man must needs forego;
By me that were not reckon’d a right good hero’s mood!”
The speech of his companion seemed unto Hagen good.

“That shall not serve your purpose,” Wolfhart in answer spake:
“I’ll so untune your fiddle that you a tale may take,
Along with you, when homewards unto the Rhine you ride;
I cannot brook with honour your overweening pride.”

Then spake the fiddle-player: “If thou a fiddlestring
Of mine untuneful makest, thy helmet’s glittering
Must speedily be lessen’d and clouded by my hand,
Howe’er betide my riding to the Burgundian land.”

He would have sprung upon him, if he had not been stay’d
By Hildebrand his uncle, who hands upon him laid:
“In this thy senseless anger thou wouldst, I trow, go mad,
And so my master’s favour might’st never more have had.”

“Let go the lion, master! fierce though he be of mood,
Comes he into my clutches,” said Volker, warrior good,
“E’en though a world of people he with his hands hath slain,
I’ll kill him, that the story he ne’er may tell again.”

By this was sorely quicken’d the Berners’ angry mood;
And Wolfhart clutch’d his buckler, a ready knight and good:
E’en Hke a savage lion in front of them he rush’d,
Whilst following close behind him his friends the onset push’d.

Yet though he sprang so swiftly, to reach the palace wall
He could not on the stairway old Hildebrand forestall,
Who would not that another first in the fight should be.
Their guerdon from the strangers they both got presently.

Then quickly upon Hagen sprang Master Hildebrand:
The clashing of the sword-blades was heard on either hand;
Their wrath was sorely kindled, as presently was plain;
A fiery stream was scatter’d from off their weapons twain.

Yet quickly were they sunder’d under the stress of fight:
The men of Bern so caused it, prevailing in their might.
Whereon away from Hagen betook him Hildebrand;
And needs must gallant Volker stout Wolfhart’s onset stand.

He smote the fiddle-player upon his helmet good,
So bravely that the sword-edge unto the sidebands hew’d;
The fiddler bold repaid him with all his might and main,
And laid his blows on Wolfhart, until he reel’d again.

They struck from the mail-armour of fiery sparks enow;
Their hate for one another was felt in every blow;
Then came the warrior Wolfwin of Bern the twain between:
Had he not been a hero that never could have been.

The warrior Gunther also gave with unstinting hand
A welcome to the heroes far-famed of Amelung land;
And Giselher the lordly made helms that shone before,
On head of many a warrior, ruddy and wet with gore.

And Dankwart, Hagen’s brother, a fearsome man was he:
Whatever he, already, on Etzel’s chivalry
In battle had accomplish’d, e’en as the wind was naught:
The son of the bold Aldrian now like a madman fought.

Richart and Gerbart likewise, Helfrich and eke Wichart,
Who oftentimes in battle right well had play’d their part,
Now plainly show’d their prowess to Gunther’s fighting men;
Wolfbrand in combat proudly was seen to bear him then,

And like a madman raging fought ancient Hildebrand.
Full many a doughty warrior then fell by Wolfhart’s hand,
Death-stricken by his sword-blows, into the pool of blood.
Thus Rüdeger avenged they, these gallant knights and good.

Then fought the noble Siegstab as of his might was due;
Ha! and upon his foemen what goodly helmets too
Were shiver’d in the battle by Dietrich’s sister’s son;
He could not in the struggle e’er better work have done.

Thereon the sturdy Volker, as soon as he beheld
How from the tough mail-armour the blood in streamlets well’d
At gallant Siegstab’s sword-strokes, the hero’s wrath arose;
Forward he sprang to meet him: and so his life to lose

Upon the spot had Siegstab through that same fiddle-man;
Who forthwith of his cunning to give such proof began
That by his mighty weapon quick death must needs ensue.
Old Hildebrand avenged him, as of his strength was due.

“Woe, for my lord belovèd!” cried Master Hildebrand,
“Who here in death is lying stricken by Volker’s hand:
Henceforth this fiddle-player shall save himself no more!”
Bold Hildebrand was wrathful as ne’er he was before.

Then smote he so at Volker, that far to either wall
The bands and clasps in pieces were strown about the hall,
From helm and eke from buckler of that same minstrel bold:
And so of sturdy Volker the ending there was told.

The liegemen then of Dietrich came thronging to the rout;
They smote till from the hauberks the links flew far about,
And splinter’d weapons saw one as high in air they flew;
Hot flowing blood in streamlets from out the helms they drew.

When Hagen, lord of Tronjé, saw Volker lying slain,
More grievous was his sorrow than all the other pain
That in this high foregathering he had for man or kin.
What vengeance for the hero did Hagen then begin!

“It shall not long advantage the old man Hildebrand
That yonder lies my helpmate slain by the hero’s hand⁠—
The veriest good comrade that ever yet I had!”
He raised his shield, and forward he rush’d with hewing blade.

Meanwhile the stalwart Helfrich had stricken Dankwart low.
To Giselher and Gunther grievous it was enow
When in the stress of battle they saw him fall beneath:
With his own hands already he had avenged his death.

Now all this while did Wolfhart stride up and down again,
And with his sword unresting he hew’d at Gunther’s men.
A third time he the journey had made along the hall,
And many were the warriors doom’d by his hand to fall.

Then Giselher the lordly to Wolfhart loudly spake:
“Woe! that so fierce a foeman ’twas e’er my luck to make!
O noble knight and gallant, now turn thyself to me,
I’ll do my best to end it: it may no longer be.”

To Giselher, in fighting, then Wolfhart turn’d him round,
And each upon the other made many a gaping wound:
With such a mighty onset against the king he dash’d,
The blood beneath his footsteps above his head was splash’d.

With swift and deadly sword-strokes the son of Uté fair
Gave greeting unto Wolfhart, the gallant hero, there.
How strong the thane soever, he was not to be saved:
So young a king could never more boldly have behaved.

He struck a blow at Wolfhart, cleaving the hauberk good,
And over him and downwards, gush’d from the wound the blood
Unto the death he wounded that man of Dietrich’s own;
None but a very warrior to do the like had known.

As soon as gallant Wolfhart was of the wound aware,
He let his shield slip downwards; but higher in the air
A weapon strong he wielded: it was a keen one too;
Wherewith through helm and hauberk the hero Giselher slew.

So had they one another to cruel death fordone,
And then of Dietrich’s lieges there lived but one alone.
When Hildebrand the ancient beheld how Wolfhart fell,
I trow, until his ending, such grief he ne’er could tell.

The men-at-arms of Gunther were dead now everyone,
As likewise those of Dietrich; and Hildebrand had gone
Unto the place where Wolfhart was lying in the blood:
Within his arms he folded that warrior brave and good.

Fain would he from the chamber have borne him bodily,
But he was all too weighty, he e’en must let him lie.
The dying man uplifted his eyes amid the blood,
And saw well that his kinsman would help him if he could.

“My well-belovèd uncle,” the dying one then said,
“At this time it avails not to give me any aid.
Now ware you well of Hagen! ay, take my words for good;
For in his heart he nurses an ever cruel mood.

“If after death my kinsfolk for me should mourning be,
Unto my next and dearest I bid you say for me
That they for me must weep not: need for it is there none,
Here lie I slain in honour, by kingly hands fordone.

“So throughly here, moreover, have I avenged my life,
That cause indeed for wailing hath many a good knight’s wife:
If anyone should ask you so may you answer plain,
A good five score are lying whom I myself have slain.”

Meanwhile had Hagen likewise upon the minstrel thought,
Whom Hildebrand the valiant unto his end had brought.
Then spake he to the warrior: “My loss thou shalt requite,
For here thou hast bereft us of many a goodly knight.”

He struck a blow at Hildebrand, such that one might have told
The hissing sound of Balmung, the sword that Hagen bold
From Siegfried’s self had taken when he that hero slew;
The blow the old man parried: ay! he was valiant too.

The warrior of Dietrich against the Tronian knight
His weapon broad uplifted, that keenly too could smite.
To wound the man of Gunther yet might he not prevail.
Then once again smote Hagen through well-wrought coat of mail.

Now when the old Sir Hildebrand was of the wound aware,
More evil yet he dreaded from Hagen’s hand to bear.
His shield the man of Dietrich threw back behind his head,
And, desperately wounded, the chief from Hagen fled.

Of all the knightly warriors remain’d there but a pair⁠—
Save Gunther’s self and Hagen none others living were.
Old Hildebrand all bleeding in flight had safety sought,
And when he came to Dietrich a woeful tale he brought.

He saw his master sitting with visage woe-begone⁠—
The prince was yet more sorry when he his tale had done;
Upon the bloody hauberk of Hildebrand look’d he,
And sought of him his tidings in all anxiety.

“Now tell me, Master Hildebrand, why are ye in this state,
And reeking with your life-blood? or who hath done you that?
I ween that in the palace you with the guests have fought:
So strictly I forbade it that ye in nowise ought.”

Unto his lord he answer’d: “ ’Twas Hagen did it all!
He set on me and gave me this wound within the hall,
E’en as I from the warrior to turn myself began.
And hither from that devil barely with life I ran!”

Then he of Bern made answer: “Ye are but served aright!
Seeing that ye had heard me swear friendship with the knight,
And then ye break the peace-pledge granted to him by me:
Would it not ever shame me your life should forfeit be.”

“Now be ye not so wrathful, my good Lord Dietrich, pray!
On me and on my kinsfolk the loss too hard doth weigh.
We purposed from the palace to carry Rüdeger;
To grant it all unwilling King Gunther’s liegemen were.”

“Now woe upon such tidings! is Rüdeger then dead?
This is the greatest sorrow that e’er I sufferèd.
The noble Gotelinda is child of aunt of mine.
Ay! woe for the poor orphans who at Bechlaren pine.”

His death weigh’d sorely on him, with ruth and sorrow great.
He fell to bitter weeping; sad was the hero’s strait:
“Woe for my trusty helpmate who now is lost to me!
Ay! of King Etzel’s liegeman the like I ne’er shall see.

“Now must ye, Master Hildebrand, tell me the story true.
Which of the warriors was it who him so foully slew?”
“That did the stalwart Gernot by strength of arm,” he said:
“By Rüdeger’s hand the hero is also lying dead.”

To Hildebrand then spake he: “Now let my liegemen know
That they must straightway arm them, for thither will I go;
And bid them bring me hither my shirt of shining mail.
From the Burgundian heroes myself I’ll have the tale.”

Then Hildebrand made answer: “Who shall now go with thee?
None others hast thou living but what thou here dost see;
I am thine only liegeman; the others all are dead.”
He shudder’d at these tidings⁠— in sooth, there was good need,

For never such great sorrow he in this world had known.
He spake: “And if my liegemen are truly dead and gone,
Then am I God-forsaken, I, Dietrich, wretched wight!
Erewhile a noble sovran and full of power and might.”

“How could such thing have happen’d?” spake Dietrich once again,
“These far-renownèd heroes⁠— that all of them are slain
By men with fighting weary, in sore necessity!
But for mine evil fortune, death still afar would be.

“Seeing my doom avails not to ward from me this ill,
Now tell me, of the guest-folk are any living still?”
Then Master Hildebrand answer’d: “God knoweth, only twain⁠—
Hagen to wit, and Gunther the noble king⁠—remain.”

“Dear Wolfhart, woe betide me! if thou from me art torn,
Too quickly may I rue me that ever I was born!
And Siegestab and Wolfwin, and none the less Wolfbrand.
Who now shall help my journey back to the Amelungs’ land?

“Helfrich the ever gallant, and have they laid him low?
And Gerebart and Wichart⁠— how weep for them enow?
Of all my joy and pleasure the ending is this day:
Fain would I die for sorrow⁠— alas that no man may!”