So ever is sorrow begotten of joy at the end of all.
What things befell thereafter in the land no minstrel hath sung[[13]],
Save that ever the voice of weeping from Christian and Heathen rung,
Weeping of knights and ladies, and of many a maiden fair:
Whelmed in abysses of sorrow for the loved and the lost they were.
(C) Ah no, no more can I tell you of a people’s misery.
There are the mighty fallen—in silence let them lie.
I can bring not from years forgotten that nation’s after-fate.
The Lay is ended—the Story of the Niblungs’ Bitter Strait.
[The End]