"To pay thee for thy favor, / O noble Ruediger,
Howe'er these lofty warriors / themselves against thee bear,
Yet never thee in combat / here shall touch my hand,
E'en though complete thou slayest / them from out Burgundian land."
Thereat the lofty Ruediger / 'fore him did courteous bend.
On all sides was lamenting / that no man might end
These so great heart-sorrows / that sorely they must bear.
The father of all virtue / fell with noble Ruediger.
Then eke the minstrel Volker / from hall down glancing said:
"Since Hagen thus, my comrade, / peace with thee hath made,
Lasting truce thou likewise / receivest from my hand.
Well hast thou deserved it / as fared we hither to this land.
"Thou, O noble margrave, / my messenger shalt be.
These arm-bands ruddy golden / thy lady gave to me,
That here at this high festival / I the same should wear.
Now mayst thyself behold them / and of my faith a witness bear."
"Would God but grant," / spake Ruediger, "who ruleth high in heaven,
That to thee by my lady / might further gift be given!
I'll gladly tell thy tidings / to spouse full dear to me,
An I but live to see her: / from doubt thereof thou mayst be free."