Of the vassals of King Siegfried, the Lord of the Netherland.
That story of sore tribulation stripped bare their life of its joys.
They believed not, till came far-ringing that lamentable voice.
Hasted the messenger onward, where the old King lay on his bed;
Yet not on the eyes of Siegmund had the dews of slumber been shed,
For dimly his heart foreboded the sorrow hard by the door.
He was doomed to behold his belovèd, his son, in life no more!
“Wake thee, O wake, King Siegmund! Tidings to thee I bring
From the Lady Kriemhild my mistress—there hath happed a fearful thing.
Above all woes known or imagined she hath suffered grief and wrong.