earth, amid the sorrowful lamentations of all the Rhineland folk; and
how, at Kriemhild's earnest wish, it was afterwards removed to the place
where now stands the little minster of Lorsch. As to which of these
stories is the true one, it is not for me to say. Enough it is to know
that Siegfried was dead, and that the spring-time had fled, and the
summer-season with all its golden glories had faded away from Rhineland,
and that the powers of darkness and of cold and of evil had prevailed.

To this day the city where was the dwelling of the Burgundian kings is
called Worms, in remembrance of the dragon, or worm, which Siegfried
slew; and a figure of that monster was for many years painted upon
the city arms, and borne on the banner of the Burgundians. And, until
recently, travellers were shown the Reisen-haus,--a stronghold, which,
men say, Siegfried built; and in it were many strange and mighty
weapons, which, they claim, were wielded by the hero. The lance which
was shown there was a great beam nearly eighty feet in length; and the
war-coat, wrought with steel and gold, and bespangled with gem-stones,
was a wonder to behold. And now, in the Church of St. Cecilia, you may
see what purports to be the hero's grave. And a pleasant meadow, not far
from the town, is still called Kriemhild's Rose-garden; while farther
away is the place called Drachenfels, or the dragon's field, where, they
say, Siegfried met Fafnir. But whether it is the same as the Glittering
Heath of the ancient legend, I know not.

And what became of the Hoard of Andvari?

The story is briefly told.[EN#36] When the days of mourning were past,
and the people had gone back sadly to their homes, Queen Kriemhild began
to speak of returning to the land of the Nibelungens. But Ute, her aged
mother, could not bear to part with her, and besought her to stay, for
a while at least, in the now desolate Burgundian castle. And Gernot and
Giselher, her true and loving brothers, added their words of entreaty
also. And so, though heart-sick, and with many misgivings, she agreed to
abide for a season in this cheerless and comfortless place. Many days,
even months, dragged by, and still she remained; for she found it still
harder and harder to tear herself away from her mother, and all that her
heart held dear. Yet never, for three years and more, did she even speak
to Gunther, or by any sign show that she remembered him. And, as for
Hagen, no words could utter the deep a