The noble King requesteth that ye mourn his hapless lot;
For his people be sitting joyless: our Lady and Queen is not.
The wife of my good Lord, Helka the mighty, low is laid,
Whereby are young lives orphaned, even many a tender maid,
Children of noble princes, whom she fostered in bower and hall,
Whereby the whole land sitteth dark-shrouded in sorrow’s pall;
For now, ah me, have they no one whose love shall bless them and ward.
Long shall it be ere assuaging come to the grief of my Lord!”
“God guerdon him,” said Gunther, “that so graciously he commends
His loving and courteous service unto me and these my friends!