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“For love of me, forbear ye!” King Gunther quickly spake;

“These people will upbraid us if we the onset make;

Let ye the Huns begin it, more seemly ’twere, I ween.”

Now all this time King Etzel was sitting by the queen.

“I’ll make the hubbub greater,” quoth Hagen, in his turn;

“We needs must let the ladies and these same champions learn

How we can sit our horses: ’twill be good sport withal,

Though little praise to any of Gunther’s men befall.”

Then rode the ready Volker into the fray again:

Whereby had many a woman, ere long, right grievous pain.

The noble Hunsman’s body transfix’d he with his spear;

Which soon both wife and maiden bewail’d with many a tear.

With hurtling speed did Hagen rush forward with his men,

His sixty chosen warriors; and quickly rode he then

Upon the fiddler’s footsteps, to where the joust was held.

Both Etzel and Kriemhilda plainly the whole beheld.

The kings were all unwilling their minstrel brave to leave

Amid the foemen fighting, and succour none to give;

A thousand heroes therefore towards him deftly rode,—

In high-accomplish’d fashion they did whate’er they would.

When that the noble Hunsman in death was stricken low,

One heard among his kinsmen complaints and cries of woe.

And all the folk were asking: “Who can this deed have done?”

“Volker, the fearless minstrel, yon fiddler is the one!”