By Kriemhild’s treasure-warders gold from the dead king’s hoard;
So brought they of their abundance—ay, now that he lived no more,
Thousands of marks for his soul’s rest were given from a fathomless store.
Lands and their revenues gave she through the whole land everywhere
Unto many a hallowed cloister, unto many a man of prayer.
Silver they gave unstinted, and raiment unto the poor.
So showed she before all people what love to the dead she bore.
When rang the bells unto high-mass on that third morning-tide,
There were seen all round the minster in the churchyard great and wide
The folk of the country weeping; they thronged it from end to end.