Then dropping on his knees, a mighty cup Richly adorn'd with many a picture rare, He thus presented to the king, who said: "Indeed, my good cup-bearer, you mean well, By thus affording me the ample means, To drown my thirst, in this great flood of wine!"

Then laughingly he rais'd it to his lips, And drank and drank, until the giant cup Was emptied to the dregs, and fairly stood The nail-test, as no single drop would flow, When upside down the beaker then was turn'd.

"Now, follow my example, all of you!"

The old carouser cried, with cheerful voice.

And swifter almost than the chased deer, The cup-bearers now hurried through the hall, Filling the cups as soon as they were quaff'd, Each trying in this tournament of wine, To get the better of his neighbours there.

Thus in short s.p.a.ce of time, many a tongue That often utter'd wise and prudent speech, Began to stammer,--until by degrees, The wine did conquer e'en the strongest men; So that when midnight came, it found them all, A prey to drunken and besotted sleep.

With soft and careful voice, Waltari now Call'd to Hildgund, and bidding her prepare, Went to the stable then to fetch his horse, Lion by name, his good and trusty steed That stood awaiting him pawing the ground, And with dilating nostrils, bit the reins As if impatient to display his strength.

Then on each side the treasure laden chests Were fasten'd carefully; some victuals too Packed in a basket, had not been forgot.

First lifting up the maiden in whose hands The reins he plac'd, Waltari follow'd her, His red-plum'd helmet towering above His ma.s.sive armour, whose protective strength Had stood the test, of many fierce attacks.

On either side, he wore a trusty sword, Beside a Hunnic sabre, short but sharp; And in his hands both shield and lance he held.

Thus, well prepar'd 'gainst any chance attack Waltari and his bride rode from the halls Of Attila for ever--full of joy All through the long and darksome night they rode, The maiden taking care to guide the steed, And watch the treasure, holding in her hand The fishing-rod, as her companion had Enough to do to carry all his arms.

But when the morning sun cast his first rays, Upon the slumb'ring earth, they left the track, Of the broad highway, turning to the shade Of lonely woods, and if the wish for flight Had not been stronger in the maiden's heart, Than fear,--she fain would have shrunk back, Before the dangers which seem'd lurking there Behind each tree; and when a branch but mov'd Or when some hidden bird its voice did raise, Her bosom heav'd, with half suppressed sighs.

But on they rode, having to find their way, Through pathless woods, and lonely mountain-glens.

Yet still they slept, in that vast banquet hall, Until the sun stood high up in the sky, When Attila, the king, first did awake, And rais'd his heavy head, clouded with wine, Then slowly rose, and stepping to the door, Call'd out with drowsy voice: "Ye men out there, Go find Waltari, quick and bring him here, That he may cheer his king with sprightly talk, Presenting him the welcome morning-cup."

The servants, to obey his order, went In all directions, looking here and there, Yet nowhere was Waltari to be found.

With trembling gait, Dame Ospirin now came, And from afar was heard her scolding voice, "What in the name of wonder ails Hildgund, That she forgets to bring my morning-gown?"

Then, there arose a whisper 'mongst the men, And soon the queen had guess'd the fatal truth, That both their captives now had taken flight.

Loud was her grief with which she now exclaim'd, "Oh cursed be the banquet, curs'd the wine Which so much mischief in one night has wrought!

And yet, I who foresaw the coming doom, Unheeded rais'd my warning voice in vain.

So now the strongest pillar of support, That propp'd the throne, Waltari too is gone."

Fierce was the anger which beset the heart Of Attila, who tearing his grey locks In his impotent rage, could find no words, In which to utter, all that rag'd within.

During that day he neither ate nor drank, In gloomy silence brooding o'er his loss, Even at night, his mind could find no rest, For stubborn sleep refus'd to close his eyes.

So, tossing restlessly about, he lay As if his blood were chang'd to liquid fire; Then madly starting up, he left his couch And pacing his dark chamber up and down, His frantic grief in all his acts display'd.

But while in fruitless sorrow, thus the night Crept by with stealthy, slowly measured tread, Waltari with his lady-love rode on In breathless silence, through the Hunnic lands.

But when the rising dawn announc'd the day, King Attila did call the eldest Huns, Whose h.o.a.ry heads were signs of ripen'd wit, Around his throne, and then address'd them thus: "He that shall bring Waltari back to me, That cunning fox who has deserted us, Him I will clothe, in costly golden robes And cover him with gifts from head to foot; So that his very feet shall tread on gold."

'Twas said in vain, for neither count nor knight Nor page nor slave was found in all the land, Who had the courage to pursue a man, Renowned for his valour and his strength, Who never yet had found his match and peer, Whose sword was ever crown'd with victory.

Thus all the king could say, was said in vain And unavailing were both gold and speech.

Thus unpursued the lovers onward sped, Trav'ling by night and resting in the day, In shady nooks and shelter'd mountain-glens Spending their time in catching birds and fish, To still their hunger, and to drive away All idle fancies from their hearts and heads, So that in all this time, the n.o.ble knight Not once the maiden wanted to embrace.

Full fourteen times the Sun had pa.s.s'd his round Since they had left the halls of Attila, When in the ev'ning light, between the trees They saw a sheet of water, flashing bright And golden in the sunshine,--and at last, They gave a joyous welcome to the Rhine, The n.o.ble river from whose vine-clad banks The stately battlements and lofty towers, Of ancient Worms, Franconia's capital Rose proudly in the air. A ferry-man Who then was loitering beside his boat, Row'd them across, and as a fee receiv'd Some fish which in the Danube had been caught, On that same morning by Waltari's hook.

As soon as they had reach'd the other side Waltari spurr'd his charger to a quicker pace.

The boatman, the next morning brought the fish Unto the royal cook, who gladly took The foreign ware; which, daintily prepar'd He serv'd that very day at the king's board.

Full of surprise King Gunther look'd at them, Then turning to his guests he said aloud, "In all the time that in Franconia, I Have sat upon the throne, I ne'er did see, A fish like these, amongst the goodly fare Upon my table; therefore tell me quick My worthy cook, whence these fair fish may come?"

The cook denounc'd the boatman, who was fetch'd And to the questions put, thus did reply: "As I was sitting by the riverside Just as the sun was slowly gliding down Behind the hills,--the eve of yesterday, A foreign rider, in full armour came Out from the woods, looking so proud and bold As if he then and there, came from the wars; And though his armour was not light I trow He yet did spur his horse to hurry on, As if by unseen enemies pursued.

Behind him, on the selfsame steed, a maid Fair as the sun, was seated, whose small hands Did guide the animal, whose wondrous strength, I had full leisure to observe the while.

Besides this double freight of man and maid, It bore two caskets, fasten'd to its sides, Which, as it shook its arched neck, gave forth A ringing, clinking sound of precious gold.

This man I row'd across, and got the fish Instead of copper payment, from his hands."

As soon as he had ended, Hagen cried "My friends, I bid ye all rejoice with me!

For surely 'tis my friend Waltari, who Now from the Huns has like myself escap'd."

Loud were the shouts of joy, which from all sides, Did greet this welcome news; but full of greed King Gunther, when the tumult had decreas'd, With cunning speech, the company address'd.

"I also, my good friends, bid you rejoice With me, that I have liv'd to see the day, When the fair treasure, which my father gave Unto the Huns,--a kindly providence Has now sent back, and never be it said, That I had fail'd to profit by my luck."

Thus Gunther spoke, nor did he tarry long, But choosing from his knights, twelve of the best, He bade them mount, and follow in this quest, On which his heart and soul was madly fix'd.

In vain did Hagen, faithful to his friend, Bid him beware, and try to turn his thoughts, To better aims,--his words did not avail; For avarice and l.u.s.t of gold had made Their fatal entrance into Gunther's heart.

So from the gates of Worms, the well-arm'd troop Rode onwards, following Waltari's track.

Meanwhile Waltari and his gentle bride Had enter'd a dark wood, where mighty trees Were giving shade and shelter from the heat.

Two rugged hills extended their steep peaks, In stern and gloomy grandeur heavenwards; A cool and shelter'd ravine lay between, Blocked up by narrow walls of sandy rocks.

And cradled in a nest of trees and gra.s.s, A very den for robbers, hard to take, Which they no sooner spied, than Walter said, "Here let us rest my love! For many nights My eyes have tasted neither rest nor sleep."

Then taking off his armour, he lay down Resting his head upon the maiden's lap.

And further he continued: "while I sleep.

My own beloved, keep a careful look Into the valley, and if but a cloud Of dust were rising in the distance, mind To wake me with a soft and gentle touch Of thy dear fingers. Do not startle me All of a sudden, even though a host Of enemies were coming at a time.

I fully trust thy loving eyes,"--and thus He clos'd his own and soon was fast asleep.

Meanwhile King Gunther's greedy eye had spied, The footprints of a solitary horse, And with exulting joy he cried aloud: "Come on my faithful va.s.sals! Ere the sun Has sunk behind those hills, we shall have ta'en Waltari with his stolen gold, I trow."

His face o'ershadow'd by a darkling cloud Prince Hagen said: "Believe me n.o.ble king,'

That not so lightly you will vanquish him.

Oft did I see how valiant heroes fell, Stretch'd to the ground by Walter's goodly sword, Which never miss'd its mark, nor found the man Who was his match in all the warlike arts."

Unheeded fell these words on Gunther's ear, And in the heat of noon, they reach'd the glen, Which as a stronghold nature had array'd.

With wakeful eyes, Hildgunde kept her watch, When suddenly she saw a cloud of dust Rise in the distance, and could hear the tramp Of swift approaching horses. So she laid Her lily fingers on Waltari's hair, And whisper'd in his ear: "awake my love, For I can see a troop of armed men; Their shields and lances glisten in the sun."

And from his drowsy eyes he rubb'd the sleep, Then hastily he seiz'd his sword and shield, Put on the armour, and thus stood prepar'd For b.l.o.o.d.y fight, which was to follow soon.

But when Hildgunde saw the knights approach, She threw herself despairing on the ground, And with a wailing voice she cried aloud: "Ah woe is me! the Huns are coming here!

But rather than return a prisoner A second time,--I prythee my dear lord, To kill me with thy sword;--so that if I, Shall never live to be thy wife, no man Shall dare to make me his reluctant bride."

With soothing words, Waltari then replied: "Be calm my own, and banish needless fear.

For He, who was my help in former plight, Will not desert me in my sorest need.

These are no Huns my darling! Silly boys, Not knowing what the danger they provoke, In youthful wantonness of stubborn pride."

Then, with a merry laugh he cried aloud: "Forsooth, look yonder, if I don't mistake That man is Hagen my alien friend!"

Then stepping to the entrance of the gorge, The hero boldly utter'd this proud speech: "I tell ye that not one Franconian man, Shall bring the tidings home unto his wife That, living, he had touch'd Waltari's gold, And,"--but he did not end the haughty speech, But falling on his knees he humbly ask'd, G.o.d's pardon for his own presumptuousness.

Anon he rose, and letting his keen eye Glance o'er the ranks of the approaching foes, He said unto himself, "of all these men There is but one of whom I am afraid; And that is Hagen, for I know his strength; And that in cunning tricks, there is no man Can claim to be his equal, I believe."-- But whilst Waltari held himself prepar'd Sir Hagen once again did warn the king: "If you would hear my counsel, I advise To send some messenger, and try to get A peaceful issue; for maybe that he Himself is ready to give up the gold.

If not, there still is time to draw the sword."

So Gamelo of Metz, a stalwart knight Was sent as herald to Waltari then, And soon accosted him, with this demand: "Tell me, oh stranger knight, whence thou dost come, What is thy name, and where thy home may be?"

"First let me hear," Waltari then replied, "Who is the man, whose orders to obey Thou camest hither?" And with haughty mien, Sir Gamelo now said: "Franconia's king, Gunther by name, has sent me on this quest."

Waltari then resum'd: "What does it mean, To stop and question peaceful trav'lers thus?

Waltari is my name, of Aquitain Whence, as a hostage to King Attila, I once was sent whilst I was yet a boy; And now, full tired of captivity, I'm turning back to liberty and home."

"If that is so," Sir Gamelo replied, "I've come to bid thee, to deliver up Thy golden treasure with yon damsel fair And thy good steed unto my lord and king; Who, under these conditions, will be pleas'd, To grant thee life and freedom unimpair'd."

With anger flashing from his dark-blue eyes Waltari when he heard this offer made, Loudly exclaim'd: "Think ye that I'm a fool?

How can thy king claim what is not his own Commanding me as if he were a G.o.d And I his wretched slave? As yet my hands Are free and without fetters,--yet, to prove My courtesy unto thy royal lord I willingly now offer him herewith A hundred bracelets of the purest gold."

With this fair offer, Gamelo return'd, And Hagen when he heard it, eagerly Said to the king: "oh take what he will give, Lest evil consequences should ensue.

A fearful dream, which came to me last night, Does fill my soul with an unusual dread Of coming ill. I dreamt oh gracious lord, That we together hunted in the wood When suddenly a monstrous bear appear'd Attacking you with such wild vehemence, That ere I yet could come to rescue you The bear had torn the flesh up to the hip, Of your right leg; and when with headlong haste, I rais'd the lance, it struck me with one paw, And scratch'd my eye out." But with proud disdain, The king replied: "I now see verily, That like thy father, much thou dost prefer, To fight with thy smooth tongue, than with thy sword."

With burning pain and anger Hagen heard These bitter words of ill deserved blame.

Yet, keeping a calm outside he replied: "If that be your opinion I'll refrain, From joining in this fight against my friend."

So leading out his horse to a near hill, He there sat down to watch the b.l.o.o.d.y game.

Then, Gunther turn'd to Gamelo once more.

"Go then, and tell him that we claim the whole.

And should he still refuse to give it up, I trow that thou art brave and strong enough, To force, and throw him with thy valiant sword."

And eager to obey his king's demand, Sir Gamelo rode out with joyous speed; And from the distance yet he rais'd his voice, And cried: "Halloh, good friend, I bid thee haste, And give the whole of thy fair treasure now, Into my hands, for my good lord and king."

Waltari heard, but did not deign to speak,-- So louder yet the knight, approaching him, Repeated the same quest: "Out with thy gold!"

But now Waltari, losing patience too, Cried out with angry voice: "Leave off thy noise!

One verily might think I were a thief, Who from thy king had robb'd the treasure here, Say, did I come to you with hostile mind, That thus you treat me like an outlaw'd man?

Did I burn houses? or destroy the lands?

Do other damage?--that you hunt me down Like some obnoxious, hurtful beast of prey?

If then to pa.s.s your land, one needs must pay, I'll offer you the double now, to still The avarice and greed of your proud king."

But Gamelo, with mocking tone replied.

"Yet more than this I trust you'll offer us, I'm weary now of talk,--so guard your life!"

And covering his arm with threefold shield, He threw his lance, which would have struck the mark, If with a subtle movement, Walter had Not turn'd aside, so that it glided past, Full harmless by, to fasten in the ground.

"Look out, here comes the answer,"--with these words, Waltari hurl'd his spear, which pierc'd the shield Of Gamelo,--and to his hip did nail The luckless hand, which just had miss'd its aim.

The wounded knight then letting go his shield, With his remaining hand tried hard to wrench The spear out of his side; but ere he could Succeed in his endeavour, Walter's sword Had stabb'd him to the heart;--so down he sank, Without a groan into the b.l.o.o.d.y gra.s.s.

No sooner did his nephew, Scaramund, Behold his uncle's fall, when loud he cried: "Leave him to me!--for either I will die, Or have revenge for my dear kinsman's blood!"

So on he gallop'd, up the narrow path That to Waltari's rocky fortress led, Gnashing his teeth with inward fury, that Could find no other vent, he cried aloud: "I have not come, to fight for thy mean gold, But I will have revenge for him who fell Before my very eyes,--slain by thy hand."