Page:The lay of the Nibelungs; (IA nibelungslay00hortrich).pdf/250

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In red blood he was lying, and all his garb was wet;

But that it was his master he did not know as yet.

Into the room he carried the candle in his hand,

From him did Dame Kriemhilda some ill news understand.

For, as she with her women would to the minster fare,

The chamberlain spake to her: “My lady, stay you there!

Right opposite the doorway a murder’d knight doth lie.”

Whereat began Kriemhilda to weep unmeasuredly.

Before she knew for certain that ’twas her husband dead,

Unto her mind recall’d she how Hagen questionéd

In what way he might guard him: then first she was afraid.

An he were dead, her pleasure was all to sorrow made.

To earth down sank she swooning, and ne’er a word could say:

Upon the hapless fair one men gazed as there she lay.

The grief of Dame Kriemhilda was past all measuring:

After her swoon, the chamber did with her wailing ring.

Her people said unto her: “What if it be a guest?”

But from her mouth came flowing the blood, by anguish press’d;

Then spake she: “Tis my husband, my own belov’d Siegfried:

It was Brunhilda’s counsel, and Hagen did the deed.”

The lady bade them lead her where she her hero found.

With her white hand she lifted his fair head from the ground;

Red as he was with blood-stains, well knew she him again.—

There lay the Niblung hero, so pitifully slain.