this thing, I trust, shall I hinder,” spake Gernot yet again;
And he gave command to be silent unto all his mighty men,
Howsoever they chafed, from saying one word that should chafe their guest.
Mid the hush flew a peace-dove, a vision of Kriemhild, to Siegfried’s breast.
“For what cause should we battle against thee?” yet again did Gernot cry:
“Yea, though a host of the good knights in the grapple of fight should die,
Small honour were ours, small profit were thine, of such strife unmeet!”
Yet again did the son of Siegmund, Siegfried, his challenge repeat:
“Why linger they, Hagen and Ortwein?—why hang they yet aback,
They and their friends, their champions, from the storm of the battle-wrack?
And of all Burgundia’s chosen is none to the combat stirred?”
But they heeded Gernot’s counsel, and they answered him not a word.
“Our guest shalt thou be full welcome,” the young lad Giselher cried,
“Thou and thy valiant champions which wait hereby at thy side.
We will joyfully do thee service, even all these friends of mine.”
Then they cried to the cupbearers, “Pour ye for the guests of King Gunther the wine!”
Spake the lord of the land yet further, “Lo, all that was ours hitherto,
Is yours, so in honour ye ask it; we will hold back nought from you.
Yea, ye shall with us be partners in our goods and our very blood!”
Then soft grew the eyes of Siegfried, and melted his angry mood.
Then they took from the warriors their war-gear, and heedfully laid it by;
And they sought for them stately chambers, and lodged them royally:
Yea, even Siegfried’s henchmen were housed in noble wise.
And in Burgundy nought met Siegfried thereafter save welcoming eyes.
All rendered to him high worship and honour day by day,
Yea, a thousandfold more richly than minstrel’s tongue may say.
All this was his valour’s guerdon—no marvel that so it should be,
For the hero was passing winsome, and sweet were his eyes to see.
Whensoever the kings and their vassals in knightly pastime strove,
Evermore was Siegfried the foremost, howsoever his strength they might prove.
There was none that with Siegfried could match him, so passing great was his might,
Or in hurling the massy rock-shard, or in speeding the lance’s flight.
In presence of high-born ladies full oft was their prowess tried,
And proved was the strength of the valiant before the lovely-eyed;
And the Netherland’s knight found favour still with the passing-fair:
But his love was set on the highest, his heart was otherwhere.
(C) Yea, lovely palace-ladies, as the knights rode flashing by,
Would ask of the warrior-stranger of bearing proud and high—
“How stately is his stature, how rich his arraying!” they cried.
“ ’Tis the hero of the Low Land!” full many a voice replied.
What deeds they essayed soever, still foremost Siegfried pressed:
But ever a lovely vision, a dream-face, haunted his breast;
And the eyes of his soul were yearning on an unbeholden face:
And she—her heart had received him, her lips low murmured his praise.
What time in the lists of the palace the good knights ran the course,
And the squires, and shivered the spear-shafts, ever on rider and horse
Unseen from the casement gazing was the daughter of kings, Kriemhild:
She craved none other pastime, in this was her joy fulfilled.
Had he known, had he known that she watched him, whom shrined in his heart he bore,
Content in those lists enchanted had he ridden evermore;
But ah, had his eyes but beheld her!—I know of a surety this,
Nought else upon earth had he longed for, whose soul had won to its bliss.
Whensoe’er in the castle-courtyard he chanced mid the knights to stand,
As amidst of their gallant pastime they are wont in every land,
How winsome then and how graceful he stood, Queen Siegelind’s child!
Ah, the heart of many a maiden unwares was love-beguiled.
But he, he was thinking, thinking, “Shall the day-dawn ever arise
In mine heart?—shall the Queen of women be ever beheld of mine eyes,
The love of my soul, my darling, my dream of long agone?
She is far from me, far; and with anguish of spirit I muse thereon!”
Whensoe’er those mighty war-kings rode through Burgundia-land,
Still did their knights attend them arrayed on either hand;
Rode Siegfried with these: at his going that lovely lady sighed;
And his heart the while was aching for her through a weary tide.
So abode he with those three war-lords—true is it, how strange soe’er—
In the land of Gunther the royal through all the space of a year;
Yet in all that season his heart’s love not once did he behold,
Of whom he should yet have gladness and sorrow manifold.
IV.
How Siegfried warred against the Saxons
