Then softly thence they bare her in whose limbs was left no power.
Senseless and stirless lay she in their arms, that stricken wife.
It seemed that for very sorrow from her body would fleet her life.
When thus in his grave lay buried that noble and princely thane,
Then bowed in measureless sorrow sat all his warrior-train,
Even all from the land of the Niblungs that led of his banner had come.
Yea, and the old King Siegmund was whelmed in morningless gloom.
There was many a man among them that for three days long made moan,
And the tears of his bitter anguish were his meat and his drink alone,
Till their bodily frames no longer could so endure and live: