Epic poetry, German -- Translations into English; Nibelungen -- Poetry
In plenty to overflowing were all things ready dight,
What things soever they needed; and many an eager knight
With joy looked on to the feast-tide. Fair lodging was given to them
all.
Amid joyance began King Etzel's bridal-festival.
So vast was the throng, in the city harboured they could not be;
And Rüdiger gave commandment--"Whosoever be not guests, ye
Without the walls find lodging in hamlet and homestead around."
Well wot I that daily and hourly waiting on Kriemhild were found
The noble baron Dietrich and many a knight of his host;
In labour of love aye toiling they wrought to the uttermost
That the hearts of their guests should be gladdened in stintless
plenty and peace,
So that Rüdiger and his kinsmen took now their disport and their
ease.
{P. 186}
Then came that royal bridal on the Feast of Whitsuntide,
Whereon the Hun-king Etzel won Kriemhild to be his bride
In Vienna the royal city: such hosts of men, I wot,
In the days of her first lord Siegfried on her pleasure had waited
not.
By her gifts unto many which never had seen her she made her known,
For which cause spake in his wonder to the guests full many an one:
"We weened that of all wealth Kriemhild was stripped bare--so had we
heard:
And behold, she doth with her bounty marvels great beyond word!"
Seven days and ten it lasted, that marriage festival-tide.
Ne'er was it told to the minstrel that any king beside
A marriage-feast so glorious hath held--we have heard not his name.
In new bright raiment vestured were all to the feast that came.
Ne'er had she sat in the Low Land in the days of long ago
In the presence of knights so many: yea, this of a truth do I know.
How rich soever in treasure was Siegfried, never had he
So many knights as were bounden to Etzel in fealty.
Never have Kings, of a surety, at their marriage-festivals
Unto guests given mantles so ample, such splendour-woven palls,
Never such costly vesture as was freely lavished here.
It was all for the sake of Kriemhild, for the honour of one most
dear.
In all--were they guests, were they home-folk--one mind in them all
abode,
Nought to begrudge in their giving, not the dearest thing they owed:
Whatsoe'er was desired of any, given it was forthright,
So that stripped bare even of vesture stood many a generous knight.
When she thought on the days passed over, how she dwelt on the green
Rhine-shore
With her noble murdered husband, her eyes with tears brimmed o'er.
Yet the ghost of the past aye banned she, that her sorrow none might
know,
That she might not shadow the honour which had come after all her
woe.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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