Right glad in court and castle were all the thanes when they heard Of the friends that should come; and a spirit of diligent toiling stirred In all men late and early, yea, in all the Kings' array. Long ranks of stately high-seats afront of the burg reared they. There toiling was Hunold the valiant, there toiling was Sindold the thane: Full little rest they tasted, in their office as laboured the twain, Steward and cupbearer-royal, as the seats rose rank on rank: There daily was Ortwein helping; and Gunther rendered them thank. Rumold the feast-arrayer, how urged he on at that tide The vassalry of the kitchen!--full many a caldron wide, Skillet and seething-vessel--how shone they in line on line For the ordering of the feasting of the guests of the Land of Rhine! (C) Toiled also the palace-maidens in many a fair device: They broidered the costly loomwork, and many a gem of price They set in the midst of the gold thread, that far its splendour shone. Was none but thanked them and praised them as they cunningly laid them thereon. XIII. How they Fared to the Feast-tide {P. 106} From the tale of their diligent toiling awhile refraineth the song, And telleth how Lady Kriemhild and all her handmaid-throng Set forth from the land of the Niblungs to the realms by Rhine to fare. Never such wealth of royal vesture did horses bear: For with many a casket and coffer they laded the sumpter-train. Amidst of friends and kinsmen rode Siegfried the hero-thane; And beside him the Daughter of Princes mid dreams of gladness rode: --Ah me, sore grief lay ambushed by the path that their horses trode! But the little child of Siegfried, but Kriemhild's darling one, Safe in the home-land left they; of need must it so be done. Begotten for him of their journey was bitter affliction and sore. Strong father and lovely mother that child saw never more! Beside them went forth riding Siegmund the ancient king. Ah, had his heart foreboded what sorrow was doomed to spring For him of that festal high-tide, he had never looked thereon! Never from wrongs of kindred such bitter grief had he won!