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“And now must God forgive me, that I a son did get

Whom folks shall taunt in future and let him not forget

That kin of his by some one was murderously slain.

If that avail’d,” said Siegfried, “right well might I complain.”

Yet once more spake the hero, in anguish nigh to death:

“If thou, O king most noble, art willing to hold faith

With any living being, I fain would now consign

Unto your grace and favour, that well-loved wife of mine.

“And let her from this profit, that thou her brother art:

If there is faith in princes, stand by her with true heart.

My father and my liegemen must tarry long for me;

Ne’er worse to any woman could loss of dear friend be.”

All round about, the flowers were wetted with his blood,

As now with Death he struggled: nor long the strife withstood.

Alas, the deadly weapon too well had done its part!

Then more he speak no further, that warrior of bold heart.

And when the nobles saw that the hero was quite dead,

Upon a shield they laid him, that was of wrought gold red;

And straightway held they counsel how they might best take heed

From all to keep it hidden that Hagen did the deed.

Then divers of them counsell’d: “Woe hath befallen us,

But ye must all conceal it, and tell the story thus:

‘As Dame Kriemhilda’s husband alone a-hunting rode,

Some vagabonds set on him and slew him in the wood.’”