Good friends had he without number in the very house of his foes.
Kriemhild the hapless woman to her treasure-keeper spake:
“Now sorrow ye all in my sorrow, and suffer dole for my sake,
All ye whose hearts have loved him, all ye that be true unto me.
For the rest of the soul of Siegfried gold to the poor give ye.”
There was no child so little, so it had understanding at all,
But something it brought for the masses for him who lay stark under pall.
Yea, full one hundred masses on that one day did they sing.
Ah, there was a mighty concourse of lovers of that dead king!
When ended was all the mass-chant, the vast crowd melted away.