of him was the truth soon known!
Then rained from Lüdiger’s war-glaive such storm of blow on blow
That Siegfried’s steed ’neath the saddle sank on his haunches low;
But he sprang to his full height straightway, and the dauntless Siegfried’s might
Flashed forth in terrible lightnings through the tempest of that fight.
There beside him was Hagen smiting, and Gernot bare him well,
And Dankwart and Volker; before them the swaths of battle fell:
Hewed Sindold and Hunold and Ortwein, the war-triumphant lords:
Before them many a champion slept the sleep of swords.
In the battle’s heart close-grappling were Saxon and Lowland king,
And over their helm-crests ever did many a javelin sing;
Through glittering bucklers pierced they from the hands of heroes sped,
Till many a goodly shield-rim dripped with the life-stream red.
Mid the surges of battle-tempest sank many a good knight slain
From his steed to the earth: yet ever they clashed, those terrible twain
Hurling together, Siegfried and Lüdiger the king,
’Neath the splintered staves upsoaring and the javelins’ eager wing.
Lo, the sweep of the sword of Siegfried hath severed the King’s shield-band!
Now seeth the Netherland hero the victory hard at hand
Over the valiant Saxons—nigh these was the bitter end.
—Ha, how did the dauntless Dankwart the glittering mail-rings rend!—
Even then the King of the Saxons with sudden-cold despair
Beheld a crown emblazoned on the shield that Siegfried bare.
He saw it, he knew it—“None other than the Hero resistless is here!”
And he lifted his voice, through the clangour of battle his shout rang clear:
“Refrain you from fight, refrain you, all ye of my battle-aid!
Lo, here is the Son of Siegmund in the strife against us arrayed!
I have seen, I have known him, Siegfried, the all-resistless lord:
Of a truth hath the Foul Fiend sent him against us hitherward!
Let sink my battle-banners,” he cried, “the fight is done!”
For peace he made entreaty; peace was vouchsafed anon.
Yet himself must fare as hostage afar to Gunther’s land
Beneath the hard constraining of dauntless Siegfried’s hand.
So ceased the weary warriors with one consent from the fight;
And many a shattered helmet and shield to left and to right
Did they cast from their hands; nor any of all on the field that lay,
But blood-besprent from the hewing of Burgundia’s swords were they.
From the field, by the right of the victor, what captives they would did they lead:
And the swift war-helpers, Gernot and Hagen, took order with heed
That the wounded men upon litters be borne: so led they away,
Captives unto the Rhine-flood, five hundred men from the fray.
All empty-handed of triumph home rode each Danish knight,
Nor yet had the Saxons borne them so stoutly in that fight
That their people should sing their praises: in sorrow and shame went they
Mid wailing for dear ones fallen in the slaughter of that day.
Now their needless armour Rhineward the sumpter-beasts might bear,
For Siegfried the strong and his helpers had rid the land of the fear
Of foes from border to border: so had he accomplished this
That all King Gunther’s war-host must acclaim the deed for his.
Straightway to Worms Prince Gernot hasted the messengers’ feet
To bear unto friends in the homeland the tidings passing sweet,
That tale of the might triumphant of the Kings and their war-array,
The tale of the deeds of the valiant, of the dawn of glory’s day.
Fast, fast those victory-heralds sped, and the tale was told.
How leap their hearts for gladness that of late were sorrowful-souled,
For all those joyful tidings through the jubilant land that ring!
How instant are high-born ladies with eager questioning
How had it fared with their dear lords in the King’s war-host who fought!
Yea, into the presence of Kriemhild was a messenger straightway brought:
Yet the thing was done as in secret, and she would not that folk should know,
For the Hero’s sake in whose keeping was her heart from long ago.
When stood that victory-bringer in her bower before her eyes,
Kriemhild the lovely bespake him in exceeding gracious wise:
“Now tell me thy joyful tidings, and my gold shall thy guerdon be;
And, so nought of the truth be hidden, thou hast ever a friend in me.
Tell how hath my brother Gernot come forth of the battle-strife,
And other my friends and kinsmen. Be there many that lost their life?
Who in that day triumphant was in prowess chief?—say on!”
Spake the messenger true-hearted: “Sooth, battle-blencher was none;
But in that stern warrior-onset no champion rode so well,
O noble Daughter of Princes, if the truth my tongue must tell,
As the princely stranger-hero, which came
