She dreamed a dream, how that walking anear her, close at her side,
Was Giselher her brother, and she kissed him again and again
In slumber—what meant that vision was thereafter all too plain!
The Foul Fiend was it surely that whispered Kriemhild’s heart
In outward-seeming friendship from Gunther the King to part,
And with kiss of feigned forgiveness, in Burgundia years ago.
Now the old pain woke, and her vesture was drenched with the hot tears’ flow.
On her heart lay morning by morning, and evening by evening lay
The thought, how they had constrained her the faith of her youth to betray
By taking to husband a heathen, when will thereto she had none.