XXV
"Sure it becomes us better here as we are to wait.
How can I ever honor who bears me deadly hate?
That will I do never as long as I have life.
I care not, I, a tittle for the wrath of Etzel's wife."
XXVI
Across his legs his broadsword o'erweening Hagan laid,
A keen well-temper'd weapon; on the pummel fair display'd
A beaming precious jasper, greener than grass, it bore.
At a glance did Kriemhild know it for that which Siegfried wore.
XXVII
At the sight she started; nigh her senses fled;
Golden was the handle, the scabbard trimm'd with red;
It brought back all her sorrow; her tears began to flow.
For that, I ween, had Hagan laid out the weapon so.
On the bench beside him Folker the swift and strong
A fiddlestick grasp'd closer, massy and broad and long,
As sharp as any razor, much like a battle-blade.
There sat the lofty couple unmov'd and undismay'd.
XXIX
So proud they felt together that pair of champions bold,
That rise would they never for one of mortal mould.
Straight up to them went Kriemhild, scarce deigning to bestow
The stern contemptuous greeting that foe accords to foe.