Page:The lay of the Nibelungs; (IA nibelungslay00hortrich).pdf/129

V.]

Was that white hand, I wonder, in lover’s fashion press’d?

In sign of tender wooing? in sooth ’twas ne’er confess’d.

But scarce can I believe that such chance had been let go;

For she her kindness to him did very quickly show.

In the full bliss of summer, and in the fair Maytide,

Within his heart could never, again such joy abide

As now did fill his bosom; the while he there did stand,

And her whom he desiréd was holding hand in hand.

And many a warrior murmured: “Ah, if it only were

My lot to walk beside her, as I have seen him here,

Or at her side to lay me, what bliss would mine have been!”

Never served hero better, methinks, to win a queen.

Whate’er might be the country the strangers call’d their own,

None had an eye for any save for this pair alone.

And when they let her kiss him,— the goodly man and brave!—

In all this world he never a greater joy could have.

Then rose the King of Denmark, and suddenly did cry:

“To bring about this greeting how many wounded lie!

Too well have I observed it,— and all by Siegfried’s hand;

Forefend him, God, from coming again to Danish land!”

On one side and the other they bade the folk make way

For beauteous lady Kriemhild. Then saw one an array

Of valiant knights who churchward did bear her company.

Then could her goodly gallant no longer near her be;