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“So grim is he of humour, he will not let you go,

Unless unto the hero some good intent ye show:

Would ye by him be ferried, give him the payment due.

This land he hath in keeping, and is to Gelfrat true.

“And if he come not quickly shout to him o’er the flood,

Say ‘Amelrich’ your name is;— he was a hero good,

Who, by his foes’ contrivance, was driven from this land—

Whene’er his name is spoken the steersman is at hand.”

The haughty Hagen bow’d him before these womenfolk:

But listening in silence no word again he spoke.

Then higher up the river he walk’d, along the sand;

And there, across the water, he saw a hostel stand.

Then lustily began he to call across the flood:

“Now, steersman, fetch me over!” shouted the warrior good;

“Of ruddy gold an armlet I’ll give thee for reward.

The matter of my journey, I tell thee, presses hard.”

The boatman was so wealthy to serve he would not brook,

Wherefore a fee but seldom from anyone he took;

His underlings were likewise of high and haughty mood.

So, still, alone stood Hagen on this side of the flood.

Then with such might he shouted that, lo, from shore to shore

The river rang: the hero of strength had such great store:

“Now Amelrich come fetch ye, Lord Else’s man am I,

Who had to leave this country by force of enmity.”