Ever gushing as streams from a fountain the hot blood redden_The Lay of the Nibelung Men

way.

Did e'er knight single-handed more gallantly turn to bay

Facing such hosts of foemen as in that hour did he?

On pressed to the palace the brother of Hagen triumphantly.

The cupbearers heard and the stewards the bickering blades' fierce

clang,

And they caught at their swords, down casting the cups on the floor

that rang:

Some clutched spears, dropping the bakemeats that they to the

feast-hall bare;

So when Dankwart won to the palace, fresh foemen thronged the stair.

"How now, ye knightly sewers," did the weary warrior say,

"Of a truth, to the guests of your master meet service should ye pay,

And should bear to the waiting princes the goodly meats through the

hall,

And let me bear to my masters the tidings I come withal."

Whosoe'er with presumptuous courage to bar his coming essayed,

Upon him with his swinging war-glaive such giant strokes he laid,

That the rest all terror-stricken fell back from his fierce

onslaught.

Marvels exceeding mighty by his prowess had he wrought.

XXXIII.

How the Fight began in Etzel's Hall

{P. 267}

So then when the aweless Dankwart strode through the feast-hall

door,

Shouting to Etzel's servants, "Back! bar my path no more!"

Behold, with the blood of slaughter all his apparel dripped,

And a sword exceeding mighty unsheathed in his hand he gripped.

so,

That men were bearing Ortlieb through the feast-hall to and fro

From table unto table to the princes one after one--

And now through his evil tidings was the innocent undone!

For loud and clear cried Dankwart in the presence of all that throng:

"Thou sittest, O brother Hagen, here at thine ease too long!

Unto you and to God in Heaven of wrong unto us I complain.

Our knights and our squires together in the hostelry lie slain!"

Cried Hagen to him in answer: "Now who hath done this thing?"

"This was the deed of Blödel and of them of his following:

But dearly he paid for his treason, unto all men here be it said;

For with these mine hands from his shoulders have I hewn the

traitor's head."

"He hath paid for his wrong too lightly," Hagen the dauntless cried,

"If men may but say of the traitor as of any knight who hath died,

That stilled by the hands of a hero he hath slept the iron sleep;

Fair ladies for one so smitten shall have less cause to weep.

Make answer to me, dear brother, how art thou thus all red?

I trow thou hast been sore wounded, and full evilly hast sped.

If the villain be here in presence who did this deed contrive,

Except the Foul Fiend help him, he goeth not hence alive!"

"Nay, before you I stand unwounded; my raiment is wet with blood;

But it gushed from the deadly gashes of other war-thanes good

{P. 268}

Whereof this day so many beneath my sword-edge fell--

If I must make oath of their number, good sooth, I could not tell."

"Brother Dankwart," he cried, "our warder of yon door do thou be,

And let no man of the Hunfolk win forth of the hall by thee.

Now with these knights will I reason, as our wrong constraineth us.

Dead lie our fellows guiltless: it is they have entreated them thus!"

"Must I," said the valiant hero, "be the chamber-sentinel?

In presence of kings so mighty the office liketh me well.

Dear as I cherish mine honour, I will faithfully guard yon stair."

At his word on the knights of Kriemhild fell the shadow of despair.

"Now exceeding sorely I marvel," rang Hagen's bitter jeer,

"What secret the Hunfolk whisper each in his fellow's ear.

I ween they would gladly spare him who watcheth yonder the door,

Who unto the men Burgundian such royal tidings bore!

Long time since, I bethink me, have I heard Queen Kriemhild say

That she would not endure her anguish of heart unavenged for aye.

A loving-cup to her vengeance! In Etzel's wine be it poured!

And the first to spill the death-drink be the hope of the Hunfolk's

Lord!"

Then he lashed at the young child Ortlieb, Hagen the terrible thane,

That down o'er his hand from the sword-blade did the blood of the

innocent rain,

And into the lap of his mother hurled was the head from the stroke.

Then mid the knights a murder grim and great awoke.

For next on the young child's guardian, which tended him truly and

well,

A mighty stroke two-handed swift as the lightning fell,

That afront of the foot of the table his head on the floor was cast.

A woeful guerdon he gave him for all his travail past!

He marked where at Etzel's table was seated a minstrel-man:

Swiftly upon him Hagen in madness of fury ran;

He smote him where on his viol rested the bard's right hand--

"That have thou for the message thou broughtest to Burgundy-land!"

{P. 269}

"Woe for mine hand!" cried Werbel the harper of Etzel the King.

"Wherein, Lord Hagen of Troneg, have I wronged thee in anything?

I came to the land of thy masters in faith and in loyalty.

How shall I waken my music who am maimed of mine hand by thee?"

Little enow recked Hagen, though never he harped again!

Then up and down the feast-hall he raged, till his hands had slain

Full many a knight of Etzel, to sate his murder-lust:

Many an earl in the palace through the gates of death he thrust.

Volker the battle-eager from his place at the table sprang;

His viol-bow now was his war-glaive, and loud in the hands it rang

Of that viol-minstrel of Gunther: a music of death did he wake:

Many a foe mid the Hunfolk for kinsmen slain did he make.

Leapt up withal from the table the noble Princes three:

They would fain have parted the fighters, ere wilder the work should

be,

But all in vain was their prudence, and nothing availed their might;

For those twain, Volker and Hagen, were mad with the fury of fight.

Now ware was the Lord of Rhineland that he could not still the fray:

Then himself unsheathed his war-glaive, and fell on the foes' array,

And he cleft their shining hauberks, and dealt wounds deep and wide.

What man of his hands was the hero that havoc testified.

Then also Gernot the stalwart plunged mid the surges of strife:

Out of many a valiant champion of the Huns he smote the life.

With the keen-edged brand of battle, the gift that Rüdiger gave,

For many a knight of Etzel did he open the gates of the grave.

Then the youngest son of Uta hurled into the tempest-roar:

His battle-brand victorious through many a morion shore

Of the warriors of King Etzel, the pride of the Hunfolk's land.

Ay, marvels of hero-prowess were wrought by Giselher's hand.

But, how brave were the rest soever, the kings and their

vassal-train,

Yet no man like unto Volker might ye see, as he battled amain

Facing the starkest foemen--ha, 'twas a warrior good!

Many a champion before him fell wounded to death in his blood.

{P. 270}

Of a truth the liegemen of Etzel made stout defence that day:

But the guests--ye might see them hewing forth and back their way

Through the length and breadth of the feast-hall of the King with the

lightening brand,

While scream and groan of the stricken went up on every hand.

Then they without right gladly would have holpen their friends

within:

But when they would force that doorway, small honour could they win.

And they in the hall full gladly would have gotten to outer air,

But past that door-ward Dankwart might none set foot on the stair.

So gathered before that portal throngs upon throngs of foes,

And loud were the helmets ringing as the swords dealt crashing blows.

Then hardly bestead was the warder, Dankwart the unafraid;

But his brother marked his peril, as love and loyalty bade.

With a mighty voice unto Volker straightway did Hagen shout:

"Seest thou yonder, my comrade, how beset by a Hunnish rout

Alone my brother standeth, while down on him stark blows rain?

O friend, do thou help my brother, ere sped be the valiant thane."

Made answer the viol-minstrel: "Yea verily will I so."

Through the hall he strode to the music of that strange viol-bow,

That sword of the ice-brook's temper, that rang in his grasp

evermore;

And the Rhineland knights as they heard it gave hearty thanks

therefor.

Then unto Dankwart Volker the aweless hero said:

"This day hast thou sorely travailed, and now art thou hardly

bestead:

Wherefore to me for thine helping did Hagen thy brother appeal.

Them from without withstand thou, and with these from within will I

deal."

Now without is the door well warded, for Dankwart the keen stands

there.

Whosoever would win the threshold back hurled he down the stair.

To the ringing music of sword-blades in many a hero's hand

Within was the door well warded by Volker of Burgundy-land.

Then over the tossing tumult a cry did the minstrel send:

"Safe warded is the mansion, thou seest, Hagen my friend

{P. 271}

The door of Etzel's palace is locked and bolted amain

Fast as with bars a thousand, by the hands of heroes twain!"

So then when Hagen of Troneg saw that the door was fast,

That battle-eager hero his shield behind him cast;

Then, then in grimmest earnest he began to avenge the wrong.

Then faint grew the hearts of the valiant, and palsied the might of

the strong.

When the Prince of Bern, Lord Dietrich, saw the marvels that he

wrought,

Saw Hagen the valiant cleaving the morions as he fought,

Then sprang the chief of the Amals on a bench amidst of the hall,

And he cried: "Here Hagen poureth a death-draught bitter as gall!"

Well might the Lord of the Hunfolk be stricken with sore affright.

--What hosts of his friends were falling down gulfs of death in his

sight!--

Death's wings overgloomed him, for round him was closing the foes'

stern ring.

In anguish he sat--what profit was it now unto him to be King?

Then cried in her fear unto Dietrich Kriemhild, a great king's wife:

"Help me, O noble hero, O help me hence with life!

By the chivalrous honour I pray thee of the princes of Amelung-land!

For if yon Hagen reach me, death is at my right hand."

"How may I avail to help thee," Dietrich the princely said,

"O noble Daughter of Princes? For myself do I stand in dread,

So fiercely the wrath is kindled of yon King Gunther's array,

That for no man's life can I answer in this season of dismay."

"Now nay, Lord Dietrich, noblest of all knights," cried the Queen;

"Let the chivalry of thy spirit in this dark hour be seen.

Forth of this place do thou help me or ever I lie here dead!"

Of a surety the spirit of Kriemhild was anguished with mortal dread.

"Nay then, if perchance it avail you, your help will I essay,

Albeit have I seen never through many a perilous day

Aflame with such bitter fury such hosts of warriors good.

I see from the helmets spurting 'neath sword-strokes ever the blood!"

Then did that peerless warrior uplift a shattering shout:

Like the horn of a wild bull blaring his mighty voice rang out,

{P. 272}

That through all the wide-built fortress its thunder-echoes rolled;

So great was the strength of Dietrich, its measure may not be told.

Then heard that shout King Gunther, and he hearkened thereunto

As it pealed o'er the battle-tempest, and the voice of the hero he

knew;

And he cried: "The voice of Dietrich!--it fell on mine ear but now.

Our knights in the battle have smitten a friend of his, I trow.

There on the table I see him: he beckoneth with his hand.

Ho ye, my friends and kinsmen, knights of Burgundia-land,

From the strife for a little refrain you, that so we may hear and see

What hurt hath been done unto Dietrich by them of my company."

So the knights at the prayer of Gunther, at the warrior king's

behest,

Let sink their swords, and the fury of fight for a space had rest.

By that sudden peace did Gunther his power unto all men show:

Then straightway he asked of Dietrich wherefore he cried to him so.

He said: "O noble Dietrich, now who hath lifted a hand

Of any my friends against thee? Willing and ready I stand

To make unto thee atonement, and thy claim to satisfy.

If any had done thee a mischief, grieved to the heart were I."

Made answer the noble Dietrich: "No wrong hath been wrought unto me.

But let me in peace and safety forth of the hall go free,

And take with me all my people out of the bitter strife;

So will I to thee of a surety be beholden all my life."

"Wherefore so soon," cried Wolfhart, "a grace of him dost implore?

Yon viol-minstrel hath barred not, I wot, so fast the door,

But that wide ourselves can set it, till we all therethrough have

won."

"Thou, hold thy peace!" said Dietrich, "no smallest deed hast thou

done."

Spake unto him King Gunther: "This I accord unto you.

Lead all forth of the palace, many be they or few,

So they be not my foemen: of these forth goeth none,

For of these foul wrong hath been done me here in the land of the

Hun."

When Dietrich the noble heard it, around the high-born Queen

Cast he an arm of protection--her fear was deadly-keen!--

{P. 273}

And forth of the hall King Etzel he drew with the other hand;

And after Dietrich followed six hundred knights of his band.

Then unto Gunther the Margrave, the noble Rüdiger, cried:

"If thou meanest that forth of the palace any shall win beside

Of such as be fain to serve thee, of this thing do me to wit;

So shall our bond of friendship and peace be abidingly knit."

Then to his fair bride's father Giselher straightway spake:

"Let peace and love between us be a bond that none shall break.

The troth-plight of friendship ever do thou and thine maintain.

Go fearless forth of the palace, thou and thy vassal-train."

When Rüdiger, Lord of the Marches, passed free through the guarded

door,

There went with him five hundred--yea, peradventure more--

Friends of the Lord of Bechlaren and his trusty vassal-throng:

But of that fair faith unto Gunther great scathe befell ere long.

Now it happed that a knight of the Hunfolk beheld King Etzel go

Safe under Dietrich's shielding, and would fain 'scape even so;

But with a stroke so deadly the viol-minstrel swept

The head from the skulker's shoulders, that to Etzel's feet it leapt.

So when the Lord of Hunland came forth from the battle-wrack,

He turned him about, and at Volker he looked in amazement back--

"Woe's me for the guests I have harboured! O day of sorrow and bane

Wherein beneath their prowess all these my knights fall slain!

Woe's me for my festal high-tide!" that king of nations said:

"Within there fighteth a warrior, Volker, a name of dread.

Like some wild boar he rageth--and a minstrel him they name!

Thank Heaven that safe from the talons of this foul fiend I came!

Doom rings and sings in his measures, red are the strokes of his bow;

In his notes I hear the death-knell of many a knight laid low.

What hath the viol-minstrel against us know I not.

Never by guest such sorrow upon mine house was brought!"

{P. 274}

twain,

Rüdiger, Lord of the Marches, and Dietrich, Bern's great thane.

Themselves were steadfast-minded aloof from the quarrel to stay,

And they straitly commanded their vassals to have nought to do with

the fray.

the door,

To be wrought by those two heroes, which for them fate had in store,

Verily not so lightly had they won that hall-way through

Ere those grim portal-keepers with the sword had smitten them too.

All whom they would had they suffered by this to pass from within;

Then again brake forth in the feast-hall a yet more fearful din.

Grimly the guests avenged them for the broken troth and the wrong.

Ha, how were the helmets cloven by the arm of Volker the strong!

To the clash of that deadly music King Gunther turned him about--

"Hearst thou the tunes, O Hagen, that Volker beateth out

On the heads of the Huns, whosoever essay the door that he keeps?

Red are the strings of the viol whereover his swift bow leaps!"

"Sore is mine heart above measure for this thing," Hagen replied,

"That in this hall-feast I am sundered afar from the good thane's

side

Ever was I his comrade, and he true comrade to me.

We will dwell, if we win home ever, in love and loyalty.

Behold, Lord King, is Volker to thee not faithful-souled?

Nobly he earneth guerdon of thy silver and thy gold!

His viol-bow goeth cleaving the adamant steel in twain,

And the gemmed helm-crests are shattered and scattered in flashing

rain.

Never beheld I minstrel stand such a lord of the fray

As Volker the thane hath proved him on this his glory-day.

Hark, how through helm and shield-plate his measures clash and gride!

He shall yet wear kingly raiment, and goodly steeds bestride."

So fought they on, till of Hunfolk that in that hall had been

Through all its mist of slaughter no living man was seen.

There was none to fight, and the uproar was hushed, the tumult died.

From their hands the aweless heroes laid now their swords aside.

XXXIV.

How they cast forth the Dead

{P. 275}

Then sat them down the warriors to rest them toil-forspent.

But forth of the feast-hall doorway Volker and Hagen went;

And leaning upon their bucklers, as in scorn of foes without,

Spake they together, casting at the Hunfolk gibe and flout.

Then cried the Prince Burgundian, Giselher the thane:

"We may not, O friends belovèd, resting longer remain.

We must needs first hale the corpses forth of the palace-hall;

For our foes, I say of a surety, again upon us will fall.

Nowise it befitteth that longer clogging our feet they lie.

Ere the foe in the storm of battle from us wrest victory,

Deep wounds will we hew full many, and sweet is the thought unto me;

Yea, my heart is set on the war-feast," said Giselher, "steadfastly."

"Glad am I that such a war-lord I have!" cried Hagen the grim.

"This counsel well beseemeth no meaner knight than him,

But such an one as the young Prince hath proved him to-day in your

sight:

And for this, O thanes Burgundian, blithe be your hearts and light!"

Then did they after his counsel, and out through the door they drew

Seven thousand slain men's corpses, and forth of the palace threw.

Afront of the steps they hurled them adown to the court below.

Then wailed from the friends of the slaughtered lamentation and

mourning and woe.

There was many a man among them whose hurts were not so sore,

But that soon, had he gentle tendance, he were whole again as before,

Who yet found death all swiftly, hurled from that cruel height.

Loudly their kin lamented who saw that pitiful sight.

Then shouted the viol-minstrel, the champion dauntless-souled:

"Now well do I see how truly the tale unto me was told

{P. 276}

That this is a land of cravens: like women they wail, these Huns,

They who should now be tending the battle-stricken ones!"

Then it seemed to a lord of the marches that he spake not in scoffing

mood;

And that same lord had a kinsman there fallen in his blood;

And he thought from the carnage to bear him, and his arms around him

he threw;

But the minstrel with a javelin hurled at him, and slew.

Then back from the stairway fled they who in hope had been drawing

near,

Cursing the viol-minstrel in the impotent fury of fear.

Then caught up Volker a javelin, stubborn-shafted and keen:

Shot by one of the Hunfolk against himself had it been.

Across the court he sped it, putting his might to the cast,

That it flew o'er their heads fierce-singing; and Etzel's men were

aghast,

As he warned them to safer standing, from the hall-door far away.

At his matchless might all people were thrilled with sore dismay.

Before that hall with Etzel in thousands the Hunfolk stood.

And now did Volker and Hagen in scornful-reckless mood

Set them to gall the Hun-king, and with bitter taunts to defy.

Ere long grim retribution on the heroes came thereby.

"It were well," cried Hagen, "to hearten the folk in the evil day,

That the lords of the land should battle in the forefront of the

fray,

Even as this day battle those true men, even my lords:

They hew the helmets asunder, blood flieth to meet their swords."

No battle-blencher was Etzel: he grasped in wrath and pride

His shield--"Risk not at their bidding thine own life!" Kriemhild

cried.

"Nay, offer thy shield gold-brimming for a champion of thy war-band.

If thou close with yonder Hagen, death standeth at thy right hand."

Yet the King was a knight so fearless that he would not refrain from

the strife--

Sooth, now such mighty princes more dearly tender their life!--

Their lord from the fray by his shield-band his servants needs must

hale.

Then with grim laughter Hagen again at the King 'gan rail:

{P. 277}

"Good sooth, 'tis a far-away kinship," he cried with bitter jeer,

"That hath drawn this Etzel and Siegfried each unto other so near!

He wantoned with yonder Kriemhild or ever she looked on thee!

What ho, King Etzel the craven, what grudge hast thou against me?"

In the ears of the great Queen tingled the scoffer's every word:

Black grew the heart of Kriemhild at the thought that his taunt was

heard

Of all those vassals of Etzel, when he dared to make her a jest;

And she set her once more to enkindle her champions against that

guest.

She cried: "Whosoever will smite me yon Hagen of Troneg dead,

And bring for a trophy hither and cast at my feet his head,

For him the shield of Etzel will I fill with gold to the brim,

Yea also, castles for guerdon and land will I give unto him."

"I wot not why these falter," the viol-minstrel said.

"Never have I seen heroes stand so sorely adread,

When offered in all men's hearing is all that wealth of gold.

Of a truth, never more will Etzel unto these be gracious-souled.

These things of shame and scorning, on the bread of the King they

feed,

And behold, they now forsake him in the stress of his sorest need!

Of such I behold full many: utterly cowed are they--

And they name them heroes!--branded are they with contempt for aye!"

For his kin and his perished liegemen did he make bitter moan.

From many a land around him stood knights on every side,

And wept with the King for the sorrow of that heavy festal tide.

"Warriors I see full many with false tears weeping here;

But little do they for the helping of their king in his evil case.

They eat the bread of their master to their shame and confusion of

face!"

is truth."

And of all that throng was no man more stung with shame and ruth

Than Iring, Lord of the Marches, a knight from the land of the Dane;

And in sooth in no long season he proved it in battle-strain.

XXXV.

How Iring fought and died

{P. 278}

Then shouted the Margrave Iring, the lord of the Danefolk's land:

"Ever on quest of honour have I set mine heart and hand,

And have done my best endeavour where surges of fight tossed high.

Bring me mine harness! My prowess against yon Hagen I try."

"Thou shalt do it to thy destruction!" did Hagen scornfully say.

"Thou shouldst better bid these Hunfolk to shrink yet farther away.

Though twain, yea, three of you rushing essay to win this hall,

Back grievously hurt will I send them; adown this stair shall they

fall."

"Not for thy threats I refrain me!" cried Iring with shining eyes.

"Full oft ere this have I ventured on as perilous emprise.

Alone will I withstand thee, and not with words, but the sword.

What care I for all thy vaunting, O thou tongue-valiant lord?"

Then with speed was the good thane Iring sheathed in knightly mail

And Irnfried of Thuringia, a heart unused to quail,

And Hawart the strong, with a thousand warriors in battle-array,

Stood eager to go where Iring the hero led the way.

Then looked the viol-minstrel, and beheld that huge war-band

That would press on after Iring, armed all with shield and brand,

And upon their heads had they settled and laced the helmets bright.

Then was the valiant Volker exceeding wroth at the sight.

"Seest thou, friend Hagen," he shouted, "how Iring cometh on,

He that but now made proffer to meet thee in battle alone?

Is it seemly that heroes be liars? contempt upon such I pour.

Lo, armed at his side come onward a thousand knights or more!"

"Liar me thou no liars!" Hawart's liegeman replied.

"Unto you did I give a promise, and by that will I abide.

{P. 279}

My word shall not be broken for any craven fear!

Be Hagen never so grimly, alone will I meet him here."

Thereat did Iring bow him at his friends' and liegemen's feet:

"Suffer ye me unholpen," he said, "yon knight to meet."

Right sorely loth they consented, for known to them well was the

might

Of Hagen the Burgundian, the overweening knight.

So long did he entreat them that at last they needs must yield.

When his friends and his faithful vassals beheld him

steadfast-willed,

And marked how he thirsted for honour, at the last they let him go.

Then did begin a grapple most grim 'twixt foe and foe.

Ever gushing as streams from a fountain the hot blood reddened his