"Full glad I'd prove my friendship / to thee with mine own shield,
Dared I the same to offer / before Lady Kriemhild.
But take it, natheless, Hagen, / and bear it in thy hand.
Would that thou mightst take it / again unto Burgundian land!"
When with mind so willing / he offered him his shield,
Saw ye how eyes full many / with scalding tears were filled;
For the last gift was it / that was offered e'er
Unto any warrior / by Bechelaren's margrave, Ruediger.
How grim soe'er was Hagen / and stern soe'er of mind,
That gift to pity moved him / that there the chieftain kind,
So near his latest moment, / did on him bestow.
From eyes of many another / began likewise the tears to flow.
"Now God in heaven requite thee, / O noble Ruediger!
Like unto thee none other / warrior was there e'er,
Unto knights all friendless / so bounteously to give.
God grant in his mercy / thy virtue evermore to live.
"Woe's me to hear such tiding," / Hagen did declare.
"Such load of grief abiding / already do we bear,
If we with friends must struggle, / to God our plaint must be."
Thereto replied the margrave: / "'Tis cause of sorrow sore to me."