It called to mind her sorrow, / and she to weep began,
Whereat did mickle wonder / many an Etzel's man,
What grief had thus so sudden / made her sad of mood.
Spake she: "That hath Hagen, / ye knights of mettle keen and good."
They to their mistress answered: / "Such thing, how hath it been?
For that thee right joyous / we but now have seen.
Ne'er lived he so daring / that, having wrought thee ill,
His life he must not forfeit, / if but to vengeance point thy will."
"I live but to requite him / that shall avenge my wrong;
Whate'er be his desire / shall unto him belong.
Prostrate I beseech you," / —so spake the monarch's wife—
"Avenge me upon Hagen, / and forfeit surely be his life."
Three score of valiant warriors / made ready then straightway
To work the will of Kriemhild / and her best obey
By slaying of Sir Hagen, / the full valiant thane,
And eke the doughty Fiddler; / by shameful deed thus sought they gain.
When the queen beheld there / so small their company,
In full angry humor / to the warriors spake she:
"What there ye think to compass, / forego such purpose yet:
So small in numbers never / dare ye Hagen to beset.