L
In richest stuff, deep sighing, they wrapp'd the clay-cold dead.
Not one, I ween, was present, but bitter tears he shed.
Then wail'd the high-born Uta; deep teen in heart she bore;
And all her dames lamented that Siegfried was no more.
LI
Soon as 'twas heard, the murder'd had now been laid in chest,
And that the mass was singing, to church the people press'd.
For his soul what offerings were brought in all men's view!
E'en 'midst foes so deadly, friends had he firm and true.
LII
Then the wretched Kriemhild her chamberlains bespake,
"Now must you toil and trouble suffer for my sake.
To those who honor'd Siegfried, and dear his widow hold,
For the soul of the departed deal out his treasur'd gold."
LIII
No child, howe'er so little, just knowing wrong from right,
But brought an offering thither; ere buried was the knight,
At least a hundred masses they sang the whole day long;
Thither all friends of Siegfried's flock'd in, a numerous throng.
LIV
When now the chants were over, the crowd would wend away.
Then spake the sobbing Kriemhild, "Ah! leave me not, I pray,
This night alone to sorrow, and watch th' unheeding dead.
With him, my own beloved, all my joys lie withered.