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O us, in olden legends, is many a marvel told

Of praise-deserving heroes, of labours manifold,

Of weeping and of wailing, of joy and festival;

Ye shall of bold knights’ battling now hear a wondrous tale.

A very noble maiden grew up in Burgundy;

Than hers no greater beauty in any land might be:

The maid was called Kriemhilda— a woman passing fair—

For whose sake many a warrior his life must needs forbear.

To love that lovely maiden seem’d but to be her due;

None bore her spite, and many did for her favour sue.

Fair were beyond all measure her noble form and face:

Her virtues were sufficient all womankind to grace.

Three noble kings and wealthy guarded her as their own:

Sir Gunther and Sir Gernot, for deeds of honour known,

And Giselher the youngest, a gallant warrior he:

The lady was the sister and ward of all the three.