great beyond measure, and after her swoon she cried out, that all
the chamber rang.

Then said her attendants, "What if it be a stranger?"

But the blood burst from her mouth by reason of her heart's anguish, and
she said, "Nay, it is Siegfried, my dear husband. Brunhild hath
counselled it, and Hagen hath done it."

The lady bade them show her where the hero lay. She lifted his beautiful
head with her white hands. Albeit he was red with blood, she knew him
straightway. Pitifully the hero of the Netherland lay there.

The gentle, good queen wailed in anguish, "Woe is me for this wrong! Thy
shield is unpierced by swords. Thou liest murdered. If I knew who had
done this deed, I would not rest until he was dead."

All her attendants wailed and cried with their dear mistress, for they
were woe for their noble master that they had lost. Foully had Hagen
avenged Brunhild's anger.

The sorrowful one said, "Go and wake Siegfried's men quickly; and tell
Siegmund also my dole, that he may help me to mourn for brave Siegfried."

Then a messenger ran in haste where Siegfried's heroes of the Nibelung
land lay, and took from them their joy with heavy tidings. They believed
it not, till they heard the wailing.

The messenger also came quickly where the king was. Siegmund slept not.
I ween his heart told him what had happened, and that he would see his
dear son never more.

"Arouse thee, Sir Siegmund! Kriemhild, my lady, hath sent me. For a
wrong hath been done her, that lieth heavier on her heart than any other
hath done. Thou shalt help her to mourn, for it is thy sorrow also."

Up rose Sir Siegmund then, and said, "What is fair Kriemhild's grief,
whereof thou tallest me?"

The messenger answered, weeping, "She mourneth with cause. Bold
Siegfried of the Netherland is slain."

But Siegmund said, "Jest not with these evil tidings of my son, and say
to none that he is slain; for never to my life's end could I mourn him
enow."

"If thou believest not what I tell thee, hearken thyself to Kriemhild,
how she maketh dole for Siegfried's death with all her maidens."

Then Siegmund feared and was sore affrighted. With an hundred of his men
he sprang out of his bed; they grasped their long swords and keen, with
their hands, and ran sorrowfully where they heard the sound of weeping.
They thought not on their vesture till they were there, for they had lost
their wits through grief. Mickle woe was buried in their he