"Whoever shall hereafter from your loins be born,
Shall take from such vile fathers a heritage of scorn.
On me you have wreak'd malice where gratitude was due.
With shame shall you be banish'd by all good knights and true."
LXXVII
Thither ran all the warriors where in his blood he lay.
To many of that party sure 'twas a joyless day.
Whoe'er were true and faithful, they sorrow'd for his fall.
So much the peerless champion had merited of all.
LXXVIII
With them the false King Gunther bewept his timeless end.
Then spake the deadly wounded, "Little it boots your friend
Yourself to plot his murder, and then the deed deplore.
Such is a shameful sorrow; better at once 'twere o'er."
LXXIX
Then spake the low'ring Hagan, "I know not why you moan.
Our cares all and suspicions are now for ever flown.
Who now are left, against us who'll dare to make defence?
Well's me, for all this weeping, that I have rid him hence."
LXXX
"Small cause hast thou," said Siegfried, "to glory in my fate.
Had I ween'd, thy friendship cloak'd such murderous hate,
From such as thou full lightly could I have kept my life.
Now grieve I but for Kriemhild, my dear, my widow'd wife.