All around the flowers / were wetted with the blood
As there with death he struggled. / Yet not for long he could,
Because the deadly weapon / had cut him all too sore:
And soon the keen and noble / knight was doomed to speak no more.
When the lords perceivéd / how that the knight was dead,
Upon a shield they laid him / that was of gold full red,
And counsel took together / how of the thing should naught
Be known, but held in secret / that Hagen the deed had wrought.
Then spake of them a many: / "This is an evil day.
Now shall ye all conceal it / and all alike shall say,
When as Kriemhild's husband / the dark forest through
Rode alone a-hunting, / him the hand of robber slew."
Then spake of Tronje Hagen: / "Myself will bring him home.
In sooth I reck but little / if to her ears it come,
Who my Lady Brunhild / herself hath grieved so sore.
It maketh me small worry, / an if she weep for evermore."