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When Hagen, Lord of Tronjé, knew that the door was fast,

His shield back on his shoulders the goodly chieftain cast.

First fell he to avenging the ills upon him wrought:

Of longer life his foemen had then but little thought.

The Prince of Bern no sooner had seen how matters went,

And how the mighty Hagen so many helmets rent,

Than sprang the Amelung ruler upon a bench: quoth he:

“The liquor Hagen giveth is vile as drink can be!”

The host was full of sorrow— good cause had he to rue:

What friends of him belovéd before his eyes they slew!

And hardly from his foemen unscath’d himself came he;

In grief he sat—what profit was it a king to be?

The mighty Queen Kriemhilda to Dietrich call’d and said:

“With all your manhood give me, O noble knight, your aid,

By all those princes’ merits erewhile of Amelung land:

Should Hagen once have reach’d me, my death were close at hand.”

“And how am I to help you,” Lord Dietrich answering said,

‘Great queen, when I have reason myself to be afraid?

These followers of Gunther with wrath so sorely burn,

That I with no one’s safety can now myself concern.”

“Nay, say not so, Lord Dietrich, thou noble knight and good,

This day make plain to all men thy kind and virtuous mood,

In that thou hence wilt help me: or I am like to die.”

Her fears had brought Kriemhilda to sore anxiety.