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“You see me whole and hearty; with blood my clothes are red,

But from the wounds of others it thus hath happenéd;

And they have been so many that I have slain to-day,

That verily their number on oath I could not say.”

He answer’d: “Brother Dankwart, see to the door do thou,

And let not of the Hunsmen a single man come through.

I’ll reckon with these warriors, as need we have, in faith!

Our men-at-arms are lying in undeservéd death.”

“If chamberlain I must be,” the gallant man replied,

“To serve such mighty rulers, I am well satisfied.

I’ll answer for the stairway, as honour’s dear to me.”

Unto Kriemhilda’s warriors naught could more direful be.

“It is to me a marvel,” Hagen thereafter spake:

“What meaneth all the fluster these Hunnish warriors make?

They think they well could spare him, who yonder door doth hold,

And hath these high concernments to the Burgundians told!

“Long time about Kriemhilda have I been wont to hear,

That she her bitter sorrow was not content to bear.

Now drink we to her darling! for royal wine we’ll call!

The princeling of the Hunfolk shall be the first of all!”

Then the child Ortlieb slew he, Hagen, that warrior good,

So that from sword-blade downward flow’d o’er his hands the blood;

The infant’s head was sever’d and on the queen’s lap fell.

Then rose amongst the warriors a slaughter horrible.