So sank amid the flowers / Kriemhild's noble knight,
While from his wound flowed thickly / the blood before the sight.
Then gan he reviling / —for dire was his need—
Who had thus encompassed / his death by this same faithless deed.
Then spake the sorely wounded: / "O ye base cowards twain,
Doth then my service merit / that me ye thus have slain?
To you I e'er was faithful / and so am I repaid.
Alas, upon your kindred / now have ye shame eternal laid.
"By this deed dishonored / hereafter evermore
Are their generations. / Your anger all too sore
Have ye now thus vented / and vengeance ta'en on me.
With shame henceforth be parted / from all good knights' company."
All the hunters hastened / where he stricken lay,
It was in sooth for many / of them a joyless day.
Had any aught of honor, / he mourned that day, I ween,
And well the same did merit / the knight high-spirited and keen.
As there the king of Burgundy / mourned that he should die,
Spake the knight sore wounded: / "To weep o'er injury,
Who hath wrought the evil / hath smallest need, I trow.
Reviling doth he merit, / and weeping may he well forego."