National Epics Part 27

"Tarry yet a little, right n.o.ble Rudeger!

I and my lords a moment would yet with you confer; Thereto hard need compels us, and danger gathering nigh; What boot were it to Etzel though here forlorn we die?

"I'm now," pursued Sir Hagan, "beset with grievous care; The s.h.i.+eld that Lady Gotelind gave me late to bear, Is hewn, and all-to broken by many a Hunnish brand.

I brought it fair and friendly hither to Etzel's land.

"Ah! that to me this favour heaven would be pleas'd to yield, That I might to defend me bear so well-prov'd a s.h.i.+eld As that, right n.o.ble Rudeger, before thee now display'd!

No more should I in battle need then the hauberk's aid."

"Fain with the same I'd serve thee to th' height of thy desire, But that I fear such proffer might waken Kriemhild's ire.

Still, take it to thee, Hagan, and wield it well in hand.

Ah! might'st thou bring it with thee to thy Burgundian land!"

While thus with words so courteous so fair a gift he sped, The eyes of many a champion with scalding tears were red, 'T was the last gift, that buckler, e'er given to comrade dear By the lord of Bechelaren, the blameless Rudeger.

However stern was Hagan, and of unyielding mood, Still at the gift he melted, which one so great and good Gave in his last few moments, e'en on the eve of fight, And with the stubborn warrior mourn'd many a n.o.ble knight.

"Now G.o.d in heaven, good Rudeger, thy recompenser be!

Your like on earth, I'm certain, we never more shall see, Who gifts so good and gorgeous to homeless wanderers give.

May G.o.d protect your virtue, that it may ever live!

"Alas! this b.l.o.o.d.y bus'ness!" Sir Hagan then went on, "We have had to bear much sorrow, and more shall have anon.

Must friend with friend do battle, nor heaven the conflict part?"

The n.o.ble margrave answer'd, "That wounds my inmost heart."

"Now for thy gift I'll quit thee, right n.o.ble Rudeger!

What e'er may chance between thee and my bold comrades here, My hand shall touch thee never amidst the heady fight, Not e'en if thou shouldst slaughter every Burgundian knight."

For that to him bow'd courteous the blameless Rudeger.

Then all around were weeping for grief and doleful drear, Since none th' approaching mischief had hope to turn aside.

The father of all virtue in that good margrave died.

What a fearful clatter of clas.h.i.+ng blades there rang!

From s.h.i.+elds beneath the buffets how the plates they sprang, And precious stones unnumber'd rain'd down into the gore!

They fought so fell and furious as man will never more.

The lord of Bechelaren went slas.h.i.+ng here and there, As one who well in battle knew how himself to bear.

Well prov'd the n.o.ble Rudeger in that day's b.l.o.o.d.y fight, That never handled weapon a more redoubted knight.

Loud o'er the din of battle stout Gernot shouted then, "How now, right n.o.ble Rudeger? not one of all my men Thou 'lt leave me here unwounded; in sooth it grieves me sore To see my friends thus slaughter'd; bear it can I no more.

"Now must thy gift too surely the giver harm to-day, Since of my friends so many thy strength has swept away.

So turn about and face me, thou bold and high-born man!

Thy goodly gift to merit, I'll do the best I can."

Ere through the press the margrave could come Sir Gernot nigh, Full many a glittering mail-coat was stain'd a b.l.o.o.d.y die.

Then those fame-greedy champions each fierce on th' other leapt, And deadly wounds at distance with wary ward they kept.

So sharp were both their broadswords, resistless was their dint, Sudden the good Sir Rudeger through th' helmet hard as flint So struck the n.o.ble Gernot, that forth the blood it broke; With death the stern Burgundian repaid the deadly stroke.

He heaved the gift of Rudeger with both his hands on high, And to the death though wounded, a stroke at him let fly Right through both s.h.i.+eld and morion; deep was the gash and wide.

At once the lord of Gotelind beneath the swordcut died.

In sooth a gift so goodly was worse requited ne'er.

Down dead dropp'd both together, Gernot and Rudeger.

Each slain by th' other's manhood, then prov'd, alas! too well.

Thereat first Sir Hagan furious wax'd and fell.

Then cried the knight of Trony, "Sure we with ills are cross'd; Their country and their people in both these chiefs have lost More than they'll e'er recover;--woe worth this fatal day!

We have here the margrave's meiny, and they for all shall pay!"

All struck at one another, none would a foeman spare.

Full many a one, unwounded, down was smitten there, Who else might have 'scap'd harmless, but now, though whole and sound, In the thick press was trampled, or in the blood was drown'd.

"Alas! my luckless brother who here in death lies low!

How every hour I'm living brings some fresh tale of woe!

And ever must I sorrow for the good margrave too.

On both sides dire destruction and mortal ills we rue."

Soon as the youthful Giselher beheld his brother dead, Who yet within were lingering by sudden doom were sped.

Death, his pale meiny choosing, dealt each his dreary dole.

Of those of Bechelaren 'scaped not one living soul.

King Gunther and young Giselher, and fearless Hagan too, Dankwart as well as Folker, the n.o.ble knights and true, Went where they found together out-stretched the valiant twain.

There wept th' a.s.sembled warriors in anguish o'er the slain.

"Death fearfully despoils us," said youthful Giselher, "But now give over wailing, and haste to th' open air To cool our heated hauberks, faint as we are with strife.

G.o.d, methinks, no longer, will here vouchsafe us life."

This sitting, that reclining, was seen full many a knight; They took repose in quiet; around (a fearful sight!) Lay Rudeger's dead comrades; all was hush'd and still; From that long dreary silence King Etzel augur'd ill.

"Alas for this half friends.h.i.+p!" thus Kriemhild frowning spake, "If it were true and steadfast, Sir Rudeger would take Vengeance wide and sweeping on yonder murderous band; Now back he'll bring them safely to their Burgundian land.

"What boot our gifts, King Etzel? was it, my lord, for this We gave him all he asked us? The chief has done amiss.

He, who should have reveng'd us, will now a treaty make."

Thereto in answer Folker, the gallant minstrel, spake,

"Not so the truth is, lady! the more the pity too!

If one the lie might venture to give a dame like you, Most foully against the margrave you've lied, right n.o.ble queen!

Sore trick'd in that same treaty he and his men have been.

"With such good will the margrave his king's commands obey'd, That he and all his meiny dead on this floor are laid.

Now look about you, Kriemhild! for servants seek anew; Well were you served by Rudeger; he to the death was true.

"The fact if still you're doubting, before your eyes we'll bring."