Song and Legend from the Middle Ages Part 15

'T is the true love I bear thee that bids me counsel this."

"Back shall I be shortly, my own beloved mate.

Not a soul in Rhineland know I, who bears me hate.

I'm well with all thy kinsmen; they're all my firm allies; Nor have I from any e'er deserv'd otherwise."

"Nay! do not, dearest Siegfried! 't is e'en thy death I dread.

Last night I dreamt, two mountains fell thundering on thy head, And I no more beheld thee; if thou from me wilt go, My heart will sure be breaking with bitterness of woe."

Round her peerless body his clasping arms he threw; Lovingly he kiss'd her, that faithful wife and true; Then took his leave, and parted;--in a moment all was o'er-- Living, alas poor lady! she saw him never more.

In the chase Siegfried prefers to hunt with a single limehound.

But he achieves most marvelous feats of skill and strength.

Stanzas 962-971.

All, that the limehound started, anon with mighty hand Were slain by n.o.ble Siegfried the chief of Netherland.

No beast could there outrun him, so swift is steed could race; He won from all high praises for mastery in the chace.

Whatever he attempted, he went the best before.

The first beast he encounter'd was a fierce half-bred boar.

Him with a mighty death-stroke he stretch'd upon the ground; Just after in a thicket a lion huge he found.

Him the limehound started; his bow Sir Siegfried drew; With a keen-headed arrow he shot the lion through.

But three faint bounds thereafter the dying monster made.

His wond'ring fellow-huntsmen thanks to Sir Siegfried paid.

Then one upon another a buffalo, an elk He slew, four strong ureoxen, and last a savage shelk.

No beast, how swift soever, could leave his steed behind; Scarcely their speed could profit the flying hart or hind . . . . . . .

They heard then all about them, throughout those forest grounds, Such shouting and such baying of huntsmen and of hounds, That hill and wood re-echoed with the wild uproar.

Th' attendants had uncoupled four and twenty dogs or more.

Then full many a monster was doom'd his last to groan.

They thought with glad expectance to challenge for their own The praise for the best hunting; but lower sunk their pride, When to the tryst-fire shortly they saw Sir Siegfried ride.

The hunting now was over for the most part at least; Game was brought in plenty and skins of many a beast To the place of meeting, and laid the hearth before.

Ah! to the busy kitchen what full supplies they bore!

The chase being done, the hunters are summoned to a feast in a neighboring glade. Here, though they are served with a profusion of sumptuous viands, there is, according to Hagen's plot, no wine to drink. When, toward the end of the meal Siegfried is tormented with thirst, Hagen tells him of a cool runnel near by under a linden, and proposes that he and Gunther and Siegfried shall try a race to this brook. Siegfried gaily consents, and boasts that he will run with all his clothing and his weapons upon him.

Stanzas 1005-1029.

King Gunther and Sir Hagan to strip were nothing slow; Both for the race stood ready in s.h.i.+rts as white as snow.

Long bounds, like two wild panthers o'er the gra.s.s they took, But seen was n.o.ble Siegfried before them at the brook.

Whate'er he did, the warrior high o'er his fellows soar'd.

Now laid he down his quiver, and quick ungirt his sword.

Against the spreading linden he lean'd his mighty spear.

So by the brook stood waiting the chief without a peer.

In every lofty virtue none with Sir Siegfried vied.

Down he laid his buckler by the water's side.

For all the thirst that parch'd him, one drop he never drank Till the king had finished; he had full evil thank.

Cool was the little runnel, and sparkled clear as gla.s.s.

O'er the rill king Gunther knelt down upon the gra.s.s.

When he his draught had taken, he rose and stepp'd aside.

Full fain alike would Siegfried his thirst have satisfied.

Dear paid he for his courtesy; his bow, his matchless blade, His weapons all, Sir Hagan far from their lord convey'd, Then back sprung to the linden to seize his ashen spear, And to find out the token survey'd his vesture near;

Then, as to drink Sir Siegfried down kneeling there he found, He pierc'd him through the croslet, that sudden from the wound Forth the life-blood spouted e'en o'er his murderer's weed.

Never more will warrior dare so foul a deed.

Between his shoulders sticking he left the deadly spear.

Never before Sir Hagan so fled for ghastly fear, As from the matchless champion whom he had butcher'd there.

Soon as was Sir Siegfried of the mortal wound aware,

Up he from the runnel started, as he were wood Out from betwixt his shoulders his own hugh boar-spear stood.

He thought to find his quiver or his broadsword true.

The traitor for his treason had then receiv'd his due.

But, ah! the deadly-wounded nor sword nor quiver found; His s.h.i.+eld alone beside him lay there upon the ground.

This from the bank he lifted and straight at Hagan ran; Him could not then by fleetness escape king Gunther's man.

E'en to the death though wounded, he hurl'd it with such power, That the whirling buckler scatter'd wide a shower Of the most precious jewels, then straight in s.h.i.+vers broke.

Full gladly had the warrior then vengeance with that stroke.

E'en as it was, his manhood fierce Hagan level'd low.

Loud, all around, the meadow rang with the wondrous blow.

Had he in hand good Balmung, the murderer he had slain.

His wound was sore upon him; he writh'd in mortal pain;

His lively colour faded; a cloud came o'er his sight: He could stand no longer; melted all his might; In his paling visage the mark of death he bore.

Soon many a lovely lady sorrow'd for him sore.

So the lord of Kriemhild among the flowerets fell.

From the wound fresh gus.h.i.+ng his heart's blood fast did well.

Then thus amidst his tortures, e'en with his failing breath, The false friends he upbraided who had contriv'd his death.

Thus spake the deadly-wounded, "Ay! cowards false as h.e.l.l!

To you I still was faithful; I serv'd you long and well; But what boots all?--for guerdon treason and death I've won.

By your friends, vile traitors! foully have you done.

Whoever shall hereafter from your loins be born, Shall take from such vile fathers a heritage of scorn.

On me you have wreak'd malice where grat.i.tude was due.

With shame shall you be banish'd by all good knights and true."