With his sword uplifted he rush'd upon the Dane.
No more against his fury could Hawart's man make head;
Swift down the stairs Sir Hagan pursued him as he fled.
XXVI
Above his head bold Iring held up his buckler strong;
Had that same scanty staircase been full trice as long,
No time had Hagan left him to strike a single stroke.
Ah! what a shower of sparkles red from his morion broke!
XXVII
Yet safe and sound Sir Iring came to his friends again.
Soon then were told to Kriemhild th' achievements of the Dane,
And what he unto Hagan had done with his good blade.
Thus unto the warrior her fervent thanks she paid.
XXVIII
"Now God reward thee, Iring! a noble knight thou art;
Thou hast reviv'd my courage and comforted my heart.
On Hagan's blood-stain'd armor, through thy bold deed, I look."
With her own hand then from him his shield for joy she took.
XXIX
"Your thanks you'd better husband," said Hagan stern and high,
"'Twould well befit a warrior his chance once more to try.
If then he came back scathless, he'd be indeed a knight.
This scratch will boot you little; so e'en a child could smite.
XXX
"The blood you see so gladly, which streaks my mail with red,
It but the more provokes me to heap this land with dead.
My strength is undiminish'd, my wrath is now begun;
You'll feel how little mischief to me has Iring done."
XXXI
Iring the Knight of Denmark there stood against the breeze,
Cooling him in his mailcoat, with helm unlaced for ease.
Loud said those about him how bold he was and brave.
Their praise to the good champion the loftiest courage gave.
XXXII
Then thus outspoke Sir Iring, "Friends! this for certain know;
Arm me, and delay not; once more I'll prove my foe.
His fierce and haughty bearing I can no longer brook."
His shield was hewn and shatter'd; a better straight he took.
XXXIII
Soon was arm'd the warrior, and better than before;
He shook in wrath and fury the weighty spear he bore;
With this against his foeman with sturdy strides he went.
Hate-sparkling eyes upon him the fierce Sir Hagan bent.
XXXIV
Th' attack of bold Sir Iring he would not there await;
Down the stairs he bounded, and ran upon him straight,
Now darting, and now smiting; his wrath was at the height;
Little then his prowess avail'd the Danish knight.
XXXV
The champions smote so fiercely, that fire-red blasts began
To burn from either buckler; then Hawart's luckless man
So grievously was wounded by Hagan's monstrous main
Through sever'd shield and morion, he ne'er was whole again.
XXXVI
That wound dash'd Iring's courage; he felt him ill bestead;
He rais'd his shield yet higher to guard his bleeding head;
He deem'd it grievous mischief, the wound it was so sore;
Yet at the hand of Hagan had he to suffer more.
XXXVII
A spear the man of Gunther found lying at his feet;
This at the head of Iring he darted sure and fleet,
So that the shaft outjutted, quivering, from his brow.
A fatal end has Hagan made of his foeman now!
XXXVIII
Back to his Danes Sir Iring recoil'd with faltering pace;
Ere from his head his comrades the helmet could unlace,
They broke from it the javelin; then close was death at hand.
His kindred wept around him, a sorrow-laden band.
XXXIX
Anon the queen came thither; she o'er the dying bent,
Bewailing dauntless Iring with ghastly dreariment,
And for his wounds sore weeping, and mourning for his sake.
Then thus among his kinsmen the hero faintly spake.
XL
"Fair and noble lady! cease for me to grieve.
What avails your weeping? my life I needs must leave;
Yes! the wounds are mortal that thus have pierc'd me through.
Death will not leave me longer to Etzel and to you."
XLI
Then thus to each Thüringian he spake, and every Dane,
"Hope not for gifts from Kriemhild, nor count her gold for gain,
For here, my friends! I warn you, e'en with my latest breath,
If once you fight with Hagan, you needs must look on death."
XLII
His lively hue was faded; the stamp of death he bore;
For the redoubted Iring his comrades sorrow'd sore.
Never could recover stout Hawart's vassal true.
Perforce each man of Denmark took to his sword anew.
XLIII
Irnfried at once and Hawart both hurried toward the hall
With a thousand warriors; from amongst them all
Loud peal'd the shout of battle; fierce was their wrath and hot.
Ah! what a sleet of javelins at those of Rhine they shot!
XLIV
Upon the valiant gleeman bold Irnfried rush'd amain,
But at his hand destruction was all that he could gain.
A stern man was the minstrel as e'er in field met foe.
Through th' helm he smote the landgrave a deep and deadly blow.
XLV
Sir Irnfried on Sir Folker dealt too a sturdy stroke,
That of his temper'd hauberk the links asunder broke,
And with the dint his harness all sparkled fiery red.
Then straight before the minstrel down dropp'd the landgrave dead.
XLVI
Sir Hawart and Sir Hagan clos'd too in deadly fight;
Their strife to each beholder was sure a wondrous sight.
Huge strokes from their keen weapons fell thick on either side,
Till by the stern Burgundian perforce Sir Hawart died.
XLVII
When Danes now and Thüringians saw both their leaders slain,
Against the house yet fiercer rush'd on the shouting train.
Loud round the sounding portal the din of battle peal'd,
And many a helm was cloven, and shatter'd many a shield.
XLVIII
"Fall back, my friends!" said Folker, "E'en let them enter in,
Yield for a while the passage they so desire to win.
Full soon they'll fall together within our bloody hold,
And reap with death and ruin Dame Kriemhild's fatal gold."
XLIX
Those overweening champions the hall had enter'd now;
Many a proud head among them was sudden taught to bow
Beneath the deadly sword-strokes of the fierce warriors there.
Well fought the valiant Gernot, well, too, young Giselher.
L
A thousand and four together had come into the hall;
You might see the broadswords flashing rise and fall;
Soon the bold intruders all dead together lay;
Of those renown'd Burgundians strange marvels one might say.
LI
Thereafter reigned deep silence; the din of war was hush'd;
Through every creak and cranny the blood on all sides gush'd From that
huge hill of slaughter; red did the gutters run.
So much was through their prowess by those of Rhineland done!
LII
With that the bold Burgundians sat down awhile to rest.
His bloody sword and buckler down laid each panting guest.
Still stood th' unwearied minstrel on guard the house before,
To watch if any foeman should seek to force the door.
LIII
Sore wail'd the royal Etzel, sore too his lady wept,
And sobbing dames and damsels like mournful concert kept.
Fell Death, I ween, had taken his oath to do them ill.
Alas! by those fierce strangers more were to perish still.
THIRTY-SIXTH ADVENTURE
HOW THE QUEEN GAVE ORDERS TO BURN DOWN THE HALL
I
"So now unlace your helmets," undaunted Hagan cried,
"I and my comrade o'er you will watch lest harm betide,
And should the men of Etzel again to fight come on,
Be sure I will not dally, but warn my lords anon."
II
Then many a prowest champion disarm'd his lofty head;
Down sat they on the corpses, that wide the floor bespread,
And lay in blood before them as by their hands they died;
Close still by Hate and Vengeance the noble guests were spied.
III
Not yet come on had evening, when the fierce king anew
And vengeance-breathing Kriemhild to fight together drew
The mighty men of Hungary; before him muster'd stood
Better than twenty thousand prepar'd for blows and blood.
IV
Once more 'gainst the Burgundians a fearful strife arose;
Dankwart before the portal among the clustering foes
From his lords undaunted leapt forth with a light bound.
'Twas thought he long had perish'd; out stepp'd he safe and sound.
V
The deadly struggle lasted till it was stopp'd by night;
The guests themselves defended 'gainst Etzel's men of might,
As well became good warriors, all through a summer's day.
Ah! what redoubted champions dead before them lay!
VI
'Twas e'en on a midsummer befell that murderous fight,
When on her nearest kinsmen and many a noble knight
Dame Kriemhild wreak'd the anguish that long in heart she bore,
Whence inly griev'd King Etzel, nor joy knew ever more.
VII
Yet on such sweeping slaughter at first she had not thought;
She only had for vengeance on one transgressor sought.
She wish'd that but on Hagan the stroke of death might fall;
Twas the foul fiend's contriving, that they should perish all.
VIII
And now the day was ended; ill were they then bestead.
They thought, 'twere surely better that they at once were dead,
Than in slow torture lingering unhopeful of release.
Those high and haughty warriors, ah! how they yearn'd for peace!
IX
They begg'd the Huns, King Etzel to bring before the hall;
Themselves then, blood-bedabbled and harness-stain'd withal,
With the three royal brethren from th' house mov'd faint and slow.
To whom to plain, they knew not, in their o'ermastering woe.
X
So near them both Etzel and Kriemhild drew;
To them belong'd the country; their host thus greater grew.
He thus bespake the strangers, "Now what would you with me?
Hope you for peace and friendship? that sure can hardly be.
XI
"After the deadly mischief that you to me have done,
The slaughter of my kinsmen, the murder of my son,
Cause shall you have to rue it as long as I have life;
So peace and truce expect not, but war and mortal strife."
XII
"Our grievous need compelled us," in answer Gunther said,
"My train before your warriors fell in their quarters dead;
How had I e'er deserved it, or they, that bloody end?
I came in faith to see thee, I ween'd thou wert my friend."
XIII
Then spake the bold Burgundian, the youthful Giselher,
"Ye noble knights of Etzel, who yet are living here,
In what have I offended? or how incurred your blame?
In kind and simple friendship into this land I came."
XIV
"Ah!" said they, "to our sorrow this castle and realm beside
Are both full of thy kindness; would you had never hied,
Thou and thy bloody brethren, from Worms across the Rhine!
You've fill'd our land with orphans;--so much for thee and thine!"
XV
Thereto in angry accents Sir Gunther made reply,
"If you would turn to friendship, and this wild hate lay by
'Gainst us home-distant warriors, 'twere well for us and you.
Your king will strike the guiltless if otherwise he do."
XVI
Then to the guests said Etzel, "No equal loss, I trow,
Have you and I encounter'd; the toil, the pain, the woe,
The shame as well as damage that I have borne to-day--
For this, not one among you shall living hence away."
XVII
Then to the king said Gernot, the death-defying knight,
"At least may God work with you in this to do us right.
If you are resolv'd to slay us, to th' open space and free
Let us come down to meet you; 'twill to your honor be.
XVIII
"Whate'er is to befall us, let it quick be done;
'Gainst such a host of warriors hope can we cherish none.
Scarce can we fight o'erwearied, much less attempt to fly.
How long will you compel us to pant and struggle ere we die?"
XIX
Then would the knights of Etzel their wish have granted straight,
And let come out the strangers before the palace gate.
Wroth thereat was Kriemhild; she had heard it soon.
Quickly to the strangers was denied the boon.
XX
"No! no! Hungarian heroes! My counsel take for true,
And grant them not their longing; beware of what you do;
Ne'er let those bloody murderers come out from yonder hall,
Or surely must your kinsmen endure a deadly fall.
XXI
"Were none of them yet living but Uta's children there,
My high-descended brothers, if once they got fresh air
To cool their heated harness, you'd one and all be lost;
The world has no such warriors; you'd learn it to your cost."
XXII
Then spake the youthful Giselher, "Fairest sister mine,
I little ween'd thy summons call'd me o'er the Rhine,
In this net of treason and mortal strait to lie.
How here of these Hungarians have I deserved to die?
XXIII
"To thee true was I ever; I never did thee wrong;
Loving and confiding I hither came along,
For thou, I thought, dear sister, didst bear like love to me.
Oh! look on us with kindness! what else should we expect from thee?"
XXIV
"Talk not to me of kindness! Unkind is all my thought.
Against me he of Trony such grievous wrong has wrought,
Never can I forgive it as long as I have life;
For that you all must suffer," said Etzel's furious wife.
XXV
"Yet would you to me Hagan up for a prisoner give,
No longer I'd refuse you, but fain would let you live,
For you're indeed my brethren, all of one mother sprung;
Then of the fit atonement I'd speak these lords among."
XXVI
"Now God in heaven forbid it!" Sir Gernot proudly said;
"Were there a thousand of us, we'd rather all lie dead,
All thy noble kinsmen, than e'er that only one
Give up to thee a captive; no! that can ne'er be done."
XXVII
"So we must die," said Giselher, "'scape can we never hence;
Still valiantly and knightly we'll stand on our defence,
Let him then, who would prove us, do now his worst endeavor;
I never friend abandoned, nor will abandon ever."
XXVIII
Then, scorning longer silence, cried Dankwart void of fear,
"Ay! my good brother Hagan stands not lonely here.
They who peace deny us, shall soon their anger rue.
We'll teach you bitter knowledge; take these my words for true."
XXIX
Then spake the queen, "Brave warriors, this hour to you belongs;
Up! closer to the staircase! take vengeance for my wrongs!
What thrift requites good service, I'll show you well to-day.
The insolence of Hagan I will in full repay.
XXX
"Let not a soul forth sally; their courage soon we'll tame;
I'll straight at the four corners bid set the hall on flame,
And thus will I revenge me at once for all my woes."
Quick Etzel's knights made ready, and fell upon her foes.
XXXI
Who yet without were standing, they instant drove within
By dint of darts and broadsword; deafening rose the din;
Yet naught their valiant followers could from the princes part;
Close link'd they stood together with fix'd and faithful heart.
XXXII
With that, the wife of Etzel bade set the hall on fire.
How sore then were they tortur'd in burning anguish dire!
At once, as the wind freshened, the house was in a glow.
Never, I ween, were mortals in such extremes of woe.
XXXIII
"We all are lost together," each to his neighbor cried,
"It had been far better we had in battle died.
Now God have mercy on us! woe for this fiery pain!
Ah! what a monstrous vengeance the bloody queen has ta'en!"
XXXIV
Then faintly said another, "Needs must we here fall dead!
What boots us now the greeting, to us by Etzel sped?
Ah me! I'm so tormented by thirst from burning heat,
That in this horrid anguish my life must quickly fleet."
XXXV
Thereat outspake Sir Hagan, the noble knight and good,
"Let each, by thirst torment'd, take here a draught of blood.
In such a heat, believe me, 'tis better far than wine.
Naught's for the time so fitting; such counsel, friends, is mine."
XXXVI
With that straight went a warrior, where a warm corpse he found.
On the dead down knelt he; his helmet he unbound;
Then greedily began he to drink the flowing blood.
However unaccustom'd, it seem'd him passing good.
XXXVII
"Now God requite thee, Hagan," the weary warrior cried,
"For such refreshing beverage by your advice supplied.
It has been my lot but seldom to drink of better wine.
For life am I thy servant for this fair hint of thine."
XXXVIII
When th' others heard and witness'd with what delight he quaff'd,
Yet many more among them drank too the bloody draught,
It strung again their sinews, and failing strength renew'd.
This in her lover's person many a fair lady rued.
XXXIX
Into the hall upon them the fire-flakes thickly fell;
These with their shields they warded warily and well.
With smoke and heat together they were tormented sore.
Never, I ween, good warriors such burning anguish bore.
XL
Through smoke and flame cried Hagan, "Stand close against the wall;
Let not the burning ashes on your helm-laces fall;
Into the blood yet deeper tread every fiery flake.
In sooth, this feast of Kriemhild's is ghastly merry-make."
XLI
'Twas well for the Burgundians that vaulted was the roof;
This was, in all their danger, the more to their behoof.
Only about the windows from fire they suffer'd sore.
Still, as their spirit impell'd them, themselves they bravely bore.
XLII
In such extremes of anguish pass'd off the dreary night.
Before the hall yet sleepless stood the gleeman wight,
And leaning on his buckler, with Hagan by his side,
Look'd out, what further mischief might from the Huns betide.
XLIII
Then thus bespoke he Hagan, "Let's back into the hall;
These Huns will then imagine that we have perish'd all
In the fiery torment they kindled to our ill.
They'll see yet some among us who'll do them battle still."
XLIV
Then the youthful Giselher, the bold Burgundian, spake,
"Methinks the breeze is fresh'ning, the day begins to break.
Better times may wait us--grant it God in heaven!
To us my sister Kriemhild a fatal feast has given."
XLV
With that outspake a warrior, "Ay! now I see the day.
Since we can hope no better in this our hard assay,
Let each don straight the harness, and think upon his life;
For soon will be upon us King Etzel's murderous wife."
XLVI
The host he little doubted but all the guests were dead,
By toil and fiery torture alike so ill bestead.
But yet within were living six hundred fearless wights;
Crowned king about him ne'er had better knights.
XLVII
The scouts who watched the strangers, had now the truth descried,
That, spite of all the travail and torment that had tried
The strength of lords and liegemen, they had survived it all,
And safe and sound as ever stalk'd up and down the hall.
XLVIII
'Twas told the queen that many unharm'd were yet to see;
"No! no!" made Kriemhild answer, "Sure it can never be
That such a fiery tempest has spared a single head.
Far sooner will I credit that one and all are dead."
XLIX
Still long'd both lords and liegemen for mercy and for grace,
If they might look for either from any there in place;
But neither grace nor mercy found they in Hunnish land,
So vengeance for their ruin they took with eager hand.
L
And now by early morning a deafening hostile din
Greeted the weary warriors; sore peril hemm'd them in.
From all sides round, against them a shower of missiles flew;
The dauntless band full knightly stood on defence anew.
LI
The mighty men of Etzel came on embolden'd more,
For that they hoped from Kriemhild to win her precious store;
And others, too, would frankly their king's command obey;
Thus had full many among them to look on death that day.
LII
Of promises and presents strange marvels might be told.
She bade bring bucklers forward heap'd high with ruddy gold;
She gave to all who'd take it; none empty went away.
Never were spent such treasures to work a foe's decay.
LIII
The best part of the champions came on in warlike gear.
Then cried the valiant Folker, "We're still to be found here.
Warriors advance to battle ne'er saw I yet so fain,
As those, who to destroy us, King Etzel's gold have ta'en."
LIV
Then from within cried many, "Nearer, ye warriors, still!
What's to be done, do quickly, whether for good or ill.
Here's not a man among us but is resolv'd to die."
Darts straight fill'd all their bucklers, so quick the Huns let fly.
LV
What can I tell you further? twelve hundred men or more
To force the fatal entrance attempted o'er and o'er.
But with sharp wounds the strangers soon cool'd their fiery mood.
None the stern strife could sever; flow might you see the blood
LVI
From gashes deep and deadly; full many there were slain,
Comrade there for comrade wept and wail'd in vain,
Till all in death together sank Etzel's valiants low.
Sore mourn'd for them their kinsmen in wild but bootless woe.
THIRTY-SEVENTH ADVENTURE
HOW MARGRAVE RUDEGER WAS SLAIN
I
That morn had fought the strangers as fitted well their fame;
Meanwhile fair Gotelind's husband into the courtyard came.
Naught saw he there on all sides but woe and doleful drear.
At the sight wept inly the faithful Rudeger.
II
"Woe's me," began the margrave, "That ever I was born,
That none can stay the sorrows of this disastrous morn!
Howe'er I long for concord, the king will ne'er agree;
Woes sees he wax around him, and more has yet to see."
III
With that, the faithful margrave to good Sir Dietrich sent,
That they might seek together to turn the king's intent.
Thereto sent answer Dietrich, "The mischief who can stay?
To none will now King Etzel give leave to part the fray."
IV
Just then a Hunnish warrior observ'd the margrave true
With tearful eyes there standing, as he was wont to do.
The same thus said to Kriemhild, "See how he stands to-day,
Whom Etzel o'er his fellows hath rais'd to power and sway,
V
"He who from all has service, from liegemen and from land!
O'er what a crowd of castles has Rudeger command!
How much the royal Etzel has giv'n him, well we know,
Yet ne'er in all this battle has he struck one knightly blow.
VI
"Methinks, of what befalls us he takes but little care,
While of broad fiefs at pleasure he holds an ample share.
'Tis said, in skill and courage the margrave stands alone,
But ill, I'm sure, have either here in our need been shown.
VII
In angry mood this slander the faithful warrior took;
He turn'd and on the murmurer cast a withering look.
Thought he, "Thou sure shalt pay for it; thou say'st that I am cow'd;
I'll show how much I fear thee: thy tale was told too loud."
VIII
At once his fist he doubled, and fiercely on him ran.
Such a fearful buffet he dealt the Hunnish man,
As needed not a second; dead at his feet he lay.
This wrung the heart of Etzel and heighten'd his dismay.
IX
"Away with thee, base babbler!" (thus the good margrave spake)
"Here have I pain and trouble enough my heart to break,
And thou, too, must revile me, as here I would not fight!
These guests I should with reason have held in high despite,
X
"And plagued them to my utmost alike in act and thought,
But that I the warriors myself had hither brought.
I was their guide and conduct into my master's land;
Against them ne'er can Rudeger uplift his wanderer's hand."
XI
Then unto the margrave spake Etzel standing near,
"How have you this day help'd us, right noble Rudeger!
When dead in such abundance our bleeding country fill,
More we nothing needed; you've done us grievous ill."
XII
The noble knight made answer, "I own he stirr'd my mood,
Twitting me with the favors (brawler coarse and rude!)
That thy free hand so largely has shower'd upon me here;
But his malicious tattle hath cost the liar dear."
XIII
Then came the fair Queen Kriemhild; she too had seen full well
What from the hero's anger the luckless Hun befell;
And she too mourn'd it deeply; with tears her eyes were wet.
Thus she spake to Rudeger, "How have we ever yet
XIV
"Deserv'd, that you, good Rudeger, should make our anguish more;
Now sure to me and Etzel you've promised o'er and o'er,
That you both life and honor would risk to do us right.
That you're the flower of knighthood, is own'd by every knight.
XV
"Now think upon the homage that once to me you swore,
When to the Rhine, good warrior, King Etzel's suit you bore,
That you would serve me ever to either's dying day.
Ne'er can I need so deeply, that you that vow should pay."
XVI
"Tis true, right noble lady; in this we're not at strife;
I pledg'd, to do you service, my honor and my life,
But my soul to hazard never did I vow.
I brought the princes hither, and must not harm them now."
XVII
Said she, "Remember, Rudeger, the promise thou didst make,
Thy word, thy oath remember that thou would'st vengeance take
On whosoever wrong'd me, and wrong with wrong repay."
Thereto replied the margrave, "I've never said you nay."
XVIII
With that, to beg and pray him the king began as well;
King and queen together both at his feet they fell.
Then might you the good margrave have seen full ill bestead,
And thus in bitterest anguish the faithful hero said.
XIX
"Woe's me the heaven-abandon'd, that I have liv'd to this!
Farewell to all my honors! woe for my first amiss!
My truth--my God-giv'n innocence--must they be both forgot?
Woe's me, O God in heaven! that death relieves me not!
XX
"Which part soe'er I foster, and whichsoe'er I shun,
In either case forsaken is good, and evil done; But should I side with
neither, all would the waverer blame.
Ah! would He deign to guide me, from whom my being came!"
XXI
Still went they on imploring, the king and eke his wife,
Whence many a valiant warrior soon came to lose his life
By the strong hand of Rudeger, and he, too, lastly fell.
So all his tale of sorrow you now shall hear me tell.
XXII