Song and Legend from the Middle Ages Part 16

Thither ran all the warriors where in his blood he lay.

To many of that party sure it was a joyless day.

Whoever were true and faithful, they sorrow'd for his fall.

So much the peerless champion had merited of all.

With them the false king Gunther bewept his timeless end.

Then spake the deadly-wounded; "little it boots your friend Yourself to plot his murder, and then the deed deplore.

Such is a shameful sorrow; better at once it were o'er."

Then spake the low'ring Hagan, "I know not why you moan.

Our cares all and suspicions are now for ever flown.

Who now are left, against us who'll dare to make defence?

Well's me, for all this weeping, that I have rid him hence."

"Small cause hast thou," said Siegfried, "to glory in my fate.

Had I ween'd thy friends.h.i.+p cloak'd such murderous hate, From such as thou full lightly could I have kept my life.

Now grieve I but for Kriemhild, my dear, my widow'd wife.

Then further spake the dying, and speaking sigh'd full deep, "Oh king! if thou a promise with any one wilt keep, Let me in this last moment thy grace and favour find For my dear love and lady, the wife I leave behind.

Remember, she's thy sister, yield her a sister's right, Guard her with faith and honour, as thou'rt a king and knight.

My father and my followers for me they long must wait.

Comrade ne'er found from comrade so sorrowful a fate."

In his mortal anguish he writh'd him to and fro, And then said, deadly groaning, "this foul and murderous blow Deep will ye rue hereafter; this for sure truth retain, That in slaying Siegfried you yourselves have slain."

With blood were all bedabbled the flowerets of the field.

Some time with death he struggled, as though he scorn'd to yield E'en to the foe, whose weapon strikes down the loftiest head.

At last p.r.o.ne in the meadow lay mighty Siegfried dead.

They carry the body of Siegfried back to Worms, and lay it at Kriemhild's door. Here she finding it next morning. She has it carried to the church and stands by it while the heroes come to view it, expecting to discover the murderer.

KRIEMHILD'S TEST.

Stanza 1071-1078.

And now the night was over; forth peep'd the morning fair; Straight had the n.o.ble lady thence to the minster bear The matchless champion Siegfried, her husband lov'd so dear.

All her friends close follow'd with many a sigh and tear.

When they the minster enter'd, how many a bell was rung!

How many a priest on all sides the mournful requiem sung!

Then thither with his meiny came Dancrat's haughty son, And thither too grim Hagan; it had been better left undone.

Then spoke the king, "dear sister, woe worth this loss of thine!

Alas that such misfortune has happ'd to me and mine!

For sure the death of Siegfried we ever both must rue."

"Nay", said the mournful lady, "so without cause you do,

For if you really rued it, never had it been.

I know, you have your sister forgotten quite and clean, So I and my beloved were parted as you see.

Good G.o.d! would he had granted the stroke had fall'n on me!"

Firmly they made denial; Kriemhild at once replied, "Whoe'er in this is guiltless, let him this proof abide.

In sight of all the people let him approach the bier, And so to each beholder shall the plain truth appear."

It is a mighty marvel, which oft e'en now we spy, That when the blood-stain'd murderer comes to the murder'd nigh, The wounds break out a-bleeding; then too the same befell, And thus could each beholder the guilt of Hagan tell.

The wounds at once burst streaming fast as they did before; Those, who then sorrow'd deeply, now yet lamented more.

Then outspake king Gunther, "I give you here to know, He was slain by robbers; Hagan struck ne'er a blow."

"Ay! well know I those robbers," his widow'd sister said; "By the hands of his true comrades may G.o.d revenge the dead!

False Gunther, and false Hagan! 't was you, your friend that slew."

Thereat the knights of Siegfried grip'd to their swords anew.

After the burial of Siegfried, Kriemhild decides to remain at the court of Gunther, in the care of her brothers. Thither is brought the enormous treasures of the Niebelungen, which Siegfried had won, and of which he had been the guardian, and which now fell to Kriemhild. The crafty Hagen gains possession of this horde, and conceals it by sinking it in the Rhine, hoping some day to recover and enjoy it. For thirteen years Kriemhild remains at the court of her brother, brooding over her wrongs and meditating revenge. The second part of the poem begins by telling how Etzel, king of the Huns, proposed for the hand of the widowed Kriemhild, and how she finally, hoping to use him in her plan of vengeance, consents to a marriage with him and goes away with him into his land. Here for many years she lives the beloved queen of the Huns. But her purpose of vengeance never falters, and at last she persuades Etzel to invite her brothers to his court on a visit. Against many forebodings and warnings they come, Hagen with them. After numerous interesting episodes upon the journey, they arrive at Etzell's court and are handsomely welcomed. But the inevitable quarrel soon breaks out and a desperate fight begins. After a most desperate and b.l.o.o.d.y struggle, Gunther, Hagen, and a few followers are shut up in a hall. To this Kriemhild sets fire.

THE BURNING OF THE HALL.

Stanza, 2186-2194.

With that, the wife of Etzel had set the hall on fire.

How sore then were they tortur'd in burning anguish dire!

At once, as the wind freshen'd, the house was in a glow.

Never, I ween, were mortals in such extremes of woe.

"We all are lost together," each to his neighbour cried, "It had been far better we had in battle died.

Now G.o.d have mercy on us! woe for this fiery pain!

Ah! what a monstrous vengeance the b.l.o.o.d.y queen has ta'en!"

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."

Thereat outspake Sir Hagan, the n.o.ble knight and good, "Let each, by thirst tormented, take here a draught of blood.

In such a heat, believe me, 't is better far than wine.

Nought's for the time so fitting; such counsel, friends, is mine."

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 pa.s.sing good.

"Now G.o.d requite thee, Hagan," the weary warrior cried, "For such refres.h.i.+ng 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."

When th' others heard and witness'd with that delight he quaff'd, Yet many more among them drank too the b.l.o.o.d.y draught.

It strung again their sinews, and failing strength renew'd.

This in her lover's person many a fair lady rued.