As their steeds went softly pacing as they followed Siegfried on.
New-wrought were the knights’ broad bucklers, bright without fleck or stain,
And their helms were a flashing splendour, as rode that gallant train
After the aweless Siegfried through the heart of Burgundia-land;
Never therein did heroes so goodly-apparelled stand.
Low as the spurs all-golden their mighty sword-points hung;
Sharp battle-spears those champions in their strong hands lightly swung.
Of two full spans was the blue blade of the lance that Siegfried bare;
Keen were the long cold edges, and the lightning of death slept there.
Starred reins all gold-embroidered swung light in the rider’s hand,