“Let the chivalry of thy spirit in this dark hour be seen.
Forth of this place do thou help me or ever I lie here dead!”
Of a surety the spirit of Kriemhild was anguished with mortal dread.
“Nay then, if perchance it avail you, your help will I essay,
Albeit have I seen never through many a perilous day
Aflame with such bitter fury such hosts of warriors good.
I see from the helmets spurting ’neath sword-strokes ever the blood!”
Then did that peerless warrior uplift a shattering shout:
Like the horn of a wild bull blaring his mighty voice rang out,
That through all the wide-built fortress its thunder-echoes rolled;