Sore throng'd were then the strangers, such crowds to see them ran; Thereat the valiant Folker thus to the Huns began.

"How dare you crowd and press us, ill-train'd, unnurtur'd crew?

Give place, or you'll discover 'twill be the worse for you.

IV

"My fiddlestick's no feather; on whom I let it fall, If he has friends that love him, 'twill set them weeping all.

Make way then for us warriors, for so it seems me right.

We're equals all in knighthood, not so in mood and might."

V

While thus in wrath the minstrel reprov'd the jostling crowd, Hagan, who had gone forward, look'd back and cried aloud, "List to the valiant gleeman; he gives you good advice; To your quarters, knights of Kriemhild! Let us not warn you twice.

VI

"Your malice lacks performance; e'en now, methinks, you doubt; So, if you would aught with us, by daylight seek us out, And, for this night, to slumber leave us wayfarers free.

Never, I ween, did warriors so long for it as we."

VII

Then led were the bold strangers thence to a s.p.a.cious hall.

For rest as for convenience they found it furnish'd all With beds, long, broad and sumptuous, arrang'd throughout the room, Dame Kriemhild still was plotting their bale and deadly doom.

VIII

Many a fine quilt from Arras you might see glittering there Of stuff most rich and precious, and many a tester fair Of silk from far Arabia the best that could be found, And thereupon were borders that bright shone wide around.

IX

And coverlets in order were laid of ermine white, And others of dark sable, whereunder every knight Should pa.s.s the hours in slumber e'en to the dawning day.

A king with his attendants ne'er in such splendor lay.

X

"Alas for these night quarters!" the youthful Giselher cried!

"Alas for our good comrades who 'midst the Huns abide!

However kind the message that from my sister sped, I fear, through her devices we all shall soon lie dead."

XI

"Now think not of such danger," the dauntless Hagan spake, "Myself this night about you the sentry's charge will take.

I'll keep you safe, believe me, e'en to the dawn of day.

For so long fear for nothing; then turn his doom who may."

XII

They bow'd to the good champion, and thank'd him, as was due, Then to the beds betook them, nor many moments flew Ere stretch'd upon his pallet was every mighty man.

Hagan the wakeful sentry to don his arms began.

XIII

Thereat the good Knight Folker, the valiant minstrel, spake, "If you'll not scorn it, Hagan, I'd fain your watch partake This night, till early morning bring us both relief."

Right cordially Sir Hagan thus thank'd the friendly chief:

XIV

"Now G.o.d in heaven reward you, Folker, dear friend and true.

For ne'er another comrade I long, but only you, What strait soe'er beset me; I'm yours to my last breath, And well will I requite you, if hinder'd not by death."

XV

With that his glittering hauberk each girt his waist about, Each grasp'd in hand his buckler, and straight, with courage stout From the house forth issuing, took post outside the door, And there with faith and manhood still watch'd their comrades o'er.

XVI

The swift-footed minstrel scarce had he left the hall, Ere he his good buckler set down against the wall, And back hurried thither; his viol he took in hand, And with it as became him charm'd the way-wearied band.

XVII

Upon the stone he sat him beneath the palace door; Minstrel more undaunted viol ne'er struck before; He struck the strings so sweetly ever as he play'd, That the meed of thanks to Folker each haughty stranger paid.

XVIII The house it all re-echoed, he struck so loud and shrill; The minstrel's strength was matchless, nor less the minstrel's skill.

Sweeter anon and softer when he to play began, On the beds he steep'd in slumber many a care-harrow'd man.

XIX

When they in sleep were buried, and this by proof he knew, Once more in hand his buckler grasp'd the champion true, And, from the room forth stalking, before the tower he stepp'd, And so the slumbering strangers from the men of Kriemhild kept.

XX

'Twas of the night the middle, or something earlier yet, When the bright gleam of helmets the glance of Folker met At distance through the darkness; 'twas Kriemhild's street-clad train, To do the guests a mischief all hastening on amain.