And the witchery of beauty to his heart became a snare.
Fain was he by battle-prowess to win that fair-one to wife:
But foredoomed thereby was the warrior to cast away his life.
He spake to the Queen: “To the feast-hall pass thou unto thy place.
Ere these be ware of the peril, a tumult will I upraise.
For the wrong he hath done thee shall Hagen make atonement at last,
When this King Gunther’s liegeman in bonds at thy feet I cast.
Now arm you all, my liegemen!” to his vassals did Blödel cry.
“We will forth against our foemen where in harbourage they lie.
My Lady, the wife of King Etzel, constrains me to this assay.