No face that was glad, or of woman or man, was in all that crowd.
Ere earth to earth they committed, once more did they pray and sing.
What countless holy fathers were seen at his burying!
Or ever the true and faithful, the wife, to the grave-side came,
With such fierce throes of anguish shaken was all her frame,
That they needs must with cool spring-water besprinkle her once and again,
So racked was her heart overmeasure with agonies of pain.
In sooth, ’twas a marvel exceeding that she died not there outright.
Weeping her women upbare her with their hands on the left and the right.
“O ye true men of Siegfried,” thus did the sad Queen cry,