Adventure XVII: How Siegfried was Mourned and Buried

Till the even they waited; in darkness they crossed the Rhinefloodthen.Never from eviller hunting came heroes home again!That quarry was cause of lamenting unto many a noble wife:For his sake must many a warrior forfeit a gallant life.

Of exceeding arrogant outrage now must the minstrel sing,Yea, of revenge inhuman; for Hagen made them bringThe Netherland hero Siegfried, even his murdered kin,Before a certain chamber--and Kriemhild lay therein!Secretly there he laid him, before that door to lie,That his wife might find his body when her feet came forth therebyUnto mass in the grey dawn faring ere rising of the sun;For thereof the Lady Kriemhild missed full seldom one.

Then heard they the bells as aforetime peal from the minster-tower;And Kriemhild the lovely wakened the maidens of her bower;And she bade bring lights, and the raiment withal that she shouldwear;And a chamberlain bringing them stumbled on Siegfried lying there.He beheld one blood-empurpled, with all his vesture wet;But that this was his own lord Siegfried in no wise knew he yet.So bare he into the chamber the torch in his hand that burned;And from him the Lady Kriemhild a tale of horror learned.For, even as she with her maidens would forth to the holy place,"O Lady," the chamberlain stammered, "tarry a little space!Behold, without the chamber a murdered knight doth lie!"Rang out from the lips of Kriemhild an exceeding bitter cry.Ere she had looked, ere the fearful truth was certainly known,Back to that question of Hagen her thought had swiftly flown,How he should shield him. Anguish she never had known till that day;But now with his death all gladness from her life had fled away.

To the floor then sank she swooning; no word her lips could say.There in the heavy silence the lovely and joyless lay.Full was her cup of sorrow, sharp was her anguish-pang.She came to herself with a wild shriek, that all the chamber rang.Then faltered her bower-maidens, "A stranger it haply may be."But the blood from her mouth came bursting in her heart's fierceagony--"O nay, it is Siegfried, Siegfried, my lord, my belovèd one!Brunhild hath plotted the murder, and Hagen the deed hath done!"Then forth did her handmaids lead her, where lay the hero dead;And the wife's white hands uplifted the husband's comely head.Albeit with blood all crimsoned, he was known of love's keen sight.There lay the Niblung hero in lamentable plight.

Then the cry of a queen's heart-anguish through the shadowy palacepealed"Woe for my bitter affliction!--behold, how lieth thy shieldWith swords unbacked! O Siegfried, thee did a murderer smite!Him--knew I the doer--my vengeance to the uttermost should requite!"Brake forth into wailing her maidens with lamentation loudWith her, their belovèd Lady: they mourned all sorrow-bowedFor their noble King and their Master, lost unto them for aye.Foully avenged by Hagen was Brunhild's wrath that day!

Then spake the sorrow-stricken: "Let some one haste away,And swiftly arouse from slumber my Siegfried's vassal-array:Let him tell withal unto Siegmund the tale of my bitter pain.He must bear his part in the wailing o'er valiant Siegfried slain."Then ran a messenger, hasting where lay the warrior-bandOf the vassals of King Siegfried, the Lord of the Netherland.That story of sore tribulation stripped bare their life of its joys.They believed not, till came far-ringing that lamentable voice.Hasted the messenger onward, where the old King lay on his bed;Yet not on the eyes of Siegmund had the dews of slumber been shed,For dimly his heart foreboded the sorrow hard by the door.He was doomed to behold his belovèd, his son, in life no more!

"Wake thee, O wake, King Siegmund! Tidings to thee I bringFrom the Lady Kriemhild my mistress--there hath happed a fearfulthing.Above all woes known or imagined she hath suffered grief and wrong.Thou must bear thy part in the wailing, for to thee doth the sorrowbelong."Uprose then Siegmund, and questioned: "For what lamenteth she,My daughter, Kriemhild the lovely, as now thou sayest to me?""Sore cause hath she for lamenting," weeping the messenger said:"Murdered is Siegfried the valiant, her lord and her love liethdead!"Answered and spake King Siegmund: "Jest me no jests! Have doneWith a tale of such evil tidings concerning Siegfried my son!Unto no man say thou hereafter that slain he is!--O nay,For then could I never with wailing have done to my latest day!""Nay then, if thou wilt not believe me, if thou wilt not receive mytale,Thou shalt learn for thine own self--hearken! for that is Kriemhild'swailAnd the cry of all her maidens for Siegfried in death laid low!"Sharp terror thrilled through Siegmund, and pangs of unfeignèd woe.

He sprang from his bed: gathered round him a hundred men of hisband.Each man had caught up swiftly a sword keen-whetted in hand.Forth ran they whither the woeful death-keen guided them on,And after them knights a thousand, bold Siegfried's vassals, aregone.Was none that bethought him of vesture, till suddenly these drew nighWhere the long wild wail of the women went shivering up to the sky.In their anguish had none remembered; they knew not what they did;All thought was buried with sorrow in the grave of their hearts deephid.

So came King Siegmund where Kriemhild crouched by Siegfried's side:"Woe for our journey hither to this land accursèd!" he cried."Who hath reft from thee thine husband, hath torn this son most dearFrom me by the hand of murder, when none but friends were near?""Ha, if I knew but the felon," in fierce grief answered the Queen,"Never mine heart should forgive him while memory's edge is keen!With such vengeance would I requite him, that all his friends and hiskin.Trust me, should weep for my weeping, should find their afflictiontherein!"Then in his arms did Siegmund embrace that fallen chief;Then rose from all his lovers so mighty a cry of griefThat with that wild lamentation did hall and palace ring,And wailed up the streets of the city the shrieks wide-echoing.Who then to the wife of Siegfried to speak of comfort dared?They drew off the blood-stained raiment, and his goodly limbs theybared.They washed his wounds dark-clotted, they laid him on the bier.High swelled the tide of anguish in all that held him dear.

Then cried aloud his warriors that came from the Netherland:"Ready and eager for vengeance waiteth ever our hand.Here in this castle he lurketh of whom the deed was done!"Then hasted the knights of Siegfried to gird their armour on.With their shields those chosen heroes full-armed returned again,Brave knights eleven hundred; they were all of the warrior-trainNow of the old King Siegmund: full fain for the death of his sonWould the father have taken vengeance; yea, honour spurred him on.But as yet these wronged ones knew not upon whom should theirvengeance light,Unless peradventure with Gunther and his vassals they closed infight;For these on that woeful hunting with Siegfried rode that day.Then all-armed Kriemhild beheld them, and filled was her soul withdismay.How wild was her grief soever, how tortured soever her breast,Yet for the lives of the Niblungs she trembled terror-distressed,Lest by the men of her brethren they be slain; and she earnestlyspake,And in love she warned them, as ever doth friend for a dear friend'ssake:And she cried from the depths of her sorrow: "My lord, O SiegmundKing,What would ye essay? Ye know not how all too hard is the thing.For the valiant men of Gunther be a passing great array:Ye shall perish all of a surety, if ye fall on so many as they!"

But they clashed their uptossed bucklers, with the battle-lust werethey mad.But the noble Daughter of Princes now pleaded, and now forbadeThose knights all battle-eager to rush upon their doom;And it troubled her very sorely that they would not be turnedtherefrom.Then she turned to the King--"Lord Siegmund, for this time sheathedbe the swordTill there come a convenient season. Fear not, for my murdered lordI will help you to wreak full vengeance. Who hath torn my love frommine handsShall drink of my vengeance deeply, when once convicted he stands.But here by the Rhine so many of our haughty foes there are,That I counsel you, I beseech you, rush not yet into war.They can set in array full thirty where we can set but one.May God so do to the traitors as they unto us have done!Abide ye here in the palace, and mourn for my dead with your Queen,Until the day beginneth, O heroes battle-keen:Then help me to lay in a coffin the man beloved of me."Answered the thanes: "Dear Lady, as thou wilt, so shall it be."

The marvel of that lamentation, no man can tell it o'er,How the wail of the knights and the maidens, like the stormytempest-roar,Shrieked through the shuddering city till all her people heard,And thitherward hasted the burghers, a great throng terror-stirred.They joined to the guests' their wailing, they grieved for the glorygone.Wherein had Siegfried offended, unto no man was it known:Nay, none could divine cause wherefore the good knight lost his life.So wept with the Queen's handmaidens many a burgher's wife.Now for the silversmiths sent they, and bade them haste to mouldA great and strong-knit coffin of silver and ruddy gold;And with burnished steel they bade them brace it in every part.All folk were of sorrowful spirit, and exceeding heavy of heart.

By this was the night passed over: one said, "Lo, day is near."And the noble Queen commanded to the minster-door to bearHer royal dead, her husband for ever well-beloved;And with her all friends sore weeping in long procession moved.So when to the minster they brought him, tolled forth many a bell,And the chant of the priests rose upward, and the requiem's solemnswell.And thitherward King Gunther and all his liegemen came.Yea, Hagen the grim mid the mourners stood--and had no shame!

And the King said: "Sister belovèd, alas for thy sore distress!Alas for the heavy affliction that toucheth us no less!We too for the death of Siegfried must evermore lament.""Wrongly ye do!" cried the Lady from a heart with anguish rent."If ye hereby were afflicted, it had never befallen so!Nay, me had ye wholly forgotten, and this full well I know,In the hour when thus I was severed from my lord, my love, my one!Oh would to God in heaven that to me this deed had been done!"But they held to their lying story. Then did Kriemhild say:"He that affirmeth him guiltless may prove it now straightway.Here in the presence of all men let him go and stand by the bier!Forthright before all people shall the very truth appear."

A marvel it is past telling, oft have we known it betide:--When the slayer murder-polluted is seen by the dead man's side,The wounds bleed in witness against him: so did it now befall,And thereby was the guilt of Hagen made manifest unto all.For the wound brake forth into bleeding, as freely as at the first.Now they that before wept sorely into wilder weeping burst.But answered and spake King Gunther: "Now hearken, the truth isthis--He was set on and slain of robbers: no deed of Hagen it is."But Kriemhild replied: "These robbers but all too well I know!God give to the hands of his kinsmen vengeance on his foe!Thou, Gunther, and thou, Hagen, of you was the foul deed done!"Surged forward the vassals of Siegfried, fierce-eager to fall on.

But Kriemhild spake: "Unto mourning be this hour sacred, I pray!"Then two beside of her kinsmen drew nigh where the dead man lay,Even her brethren, Gernot and the stripling Giselher:And in leal faith these bewailed him with all the true souls there.Yea, from the heart they lamented for Kriemhild's perished lord.Now pealed the holy mass-chant: through the doors of the minsterpouredOn every hand young children no less than women and men.Even they whom his death smote lightly, wept with the best for himthen.Spake Giselher and Gernot: "O sister, receive of us thouFor the death of thy lord consolation: it is past all healing now.Thy loss by our love will we make good, so long as we both shalllive."But no one on earth could console her, of none would she comfortreceive.

By this was his coffin fashioned, when the sun in the mid-heavenshone.Loving hands from the bier uplifted the corpse that lay thereon.But the Queen said: "Nay, I beseech you, lay him not yet in thegrave;Ere then heavy tribute of mourning from all that love him I crave."In a pall most costly-woven that lifeless form they wound.Of a surety none that wept not was in all that concourse found.From her heart poured Uta the noble lamentation and mourning and woe;Wailing were all her handmaids for the princely head brought low.When the folk heard how in the minster they sang the requiem,And that Siegfried lay in his coffin, there came vast throngs of themWith their offerings--ah, how freely!--to buy his soul's repose.Good friends had he without number in the very house of his foes.Kriemhild the hapless woman to her treasure-keeper spake:"Now sorrow ye all in my sorrow, and suffer dole for my sake,All ye whose hearts have loved him, all ye that be true unto me.For the rest of the soul of Siegfried gold to the poor give ye."There was no child so little, so it had understanding at all,But something it brought for the masses for him who lay stark underpall.Yea, full one hundred masses on that one day did they sing.Ah, there was a mighty concourse of lovers of that dead king!

When ended was all the mass-chant, the vast crowd melted away.But again to her friends spake Kriemhild: "Leave me not this dayTo keep vigil alone o'er the hero, the hope of the world and itspride;Now all the joy of my life-days is buried by his side.Three days, three nights unceasing will I keep vigil hereTill my soul is filled with lamenting for him, my lord most dear.Peradventure His white Death-angel for me too God will send;So the sorrow of Kriemhild the hapless should find a blessèd end."

Now homeward the folk of the city were gone to their rest and theirsleep:But the priests and the monks aye chanting that vigil with her mustkeep;And his vassals and leal retainers that served that gallant chief--Ah, weariful nights were appointed to these, and days of grief.Through the days of their mourning many drank not, nor tasted ofbread:But, for such as could not endure it, to these was it plainly said:"Eat, drink, for we give to you freely." King Siegmund caredtherefor.Then fell on the faithful Niblungs trouble and travail sore.

As telleth the olden story, through three days weary-longNever an hour of respite from holy chant and songHad any singer of masses. What wealth of offeringsPoured in! Then even the poorest could give like very kings.For they sought out the poor and needy, and into their hands waspouredBy Kriemhild's treasure-warders gold from the dead king's hoard;So brought they of their abundance--ay, now that he lived no more,Thousands of marks for his soul's rest were given from a fathomlessstore.Lands and their revenues gave she through the whole land everywhereUnto many a hallowed cloister, unto many a man of prayer.Silver they gave unstinted, and raiment unto the poor.So showed she before all people what love to the dead she bore.When rang the bells unto high-mass on that third morning-tide,There were seen all round the minster in the churchyard great andwideThe folk of the country weeping; they thronged it from end to end.Yea, in death did they do him service, as unto a dear-loved friend.In these four days of their mourning, as the old bards sang unto me,Marks full thirty thousand, yea, more, it well may be,To the poor were freely given, that all for his soul might pray,Now that all his life and his beauty as a shadow had passed away.

The service of God was ended, into silence sank the song.With a storm of weeping shaken was all that mighty throng.Then out of the dim-lit minster forth to the grave was he borne--Oh wail of the hungry-hearted, oh voice of them that mourn!On moved that endless procession with cries of lamenting loud;No face that was glad, or of woman or man, was in all that crowd.Ere earth to earth they committed, once more did they pray and sing.What countless holy fathers were seen at his burying!

Or ever the true and faithful, the wife, to the grave-side came,With such fierce throes of anguish shaken was all her frame,That they needs must with cool spring-water besprinkle her once andagain,So racked was her heart overmeasure with agonies of pain.In sooth, 'twas a marvel exceeding that she died not there outright.Weeping her women upbare her with their hands on the left and theright."O ye true men of Siegfried," thus did the sad Queen cry,"I pray you of your compassion, and of your fealty,Vouchsafe unto me in my sorrow this one little graceThat once more and for the last time I may look on his lovely face!"So long in her anguish she pleaded, so earnestly she besought,That they needs must at last wrench open the coffin richly wrought.The Queen then thitherward led they, and she bowed her over her dead.In her white hands she enfolded and lifted his comely head;And she kissed that faded glory, that noble knight and good.Her starry eyes for sorrow wept very tears of blood.An exceeding pitiful parting saw all men in that hour.Then softly thence they bare her in whose limbs was left no power.Senseless and stirless lay she in their arms, that stricken wife.It seemed that for very sorrow from her body would fleet her life.

When thus in his grave lay buried that noble and princely thane,Then bowed in measureless sorrow sat all his warrior-train,Even all from the land of the Niblungs that led of his banner hadcome.Yea, and the old King Siegmund was whelmed in morningless gloom.There was many a man among them that for three days long made moan,And the tears of his bitter anguish were his meat and his drinkalone,Till their bodily frames no longer could so endure and live:So they took up the burden of living, and a little they ceased togrieve.(C) But lost unto all things Kriemhild in a deathlike swoon still layThrough the hours of the day and the darkness, even till the secondday.Whatsoe'er in her ears they whispered, she knew not anything:And no less stricken of sorrow lay grey-haired Siegmund the King.(C) Scarce to the mind's re-dawning he slowly won at the last:From his limbs by reason of anguish all bodily strength had passed.No marvel that weak was Siegmund! At last drew his liegemen near,Saying: "Lord, let us fare hence homeward: boots not that we lingerhere!"