Oh that He now would guide me, from whose fashioning hands I came!”
They hung upon him so sorely, the King and Kriemhild his wife,
That doomed was many a warrior to cast away his life
By Rüdiger’s right hand smitten, yea, the hero’s self must die.
Now hearken ye to the story of the woe he won thereby.
Well knew he that scathe and sorrow unmixed should be all his gain.
Of a truth unto Etzel and Kriemhild had he denied full fain
Herein to fulfil their pleasure. A dark thought haunted his breast,
That the world would hold him accursèd if he slew one single guest.
Then spake once more unto Etzel that hero battle-bold: