No longer now might they tarry: they must needs press on to the goal. But of all his mighty possessions would Rüdiger's princely soul Spare nought in his lavish bounty: whatsoever any might crave, Unto none he denied or begrudged it; to the heroes gladly he gave. Before the gate of the castle the squires brought harness-dight Long lines of goodly horses: then came forth many a knight Unto where the steeds stood waiting. Their shields on their arms they bare, For thence would they now be riding unto Etzel's land to fare. {P. 231} But, or ever the high-born strangers forth of the feast-hall strode, Freely the host on the heroes the gifts of his love had bestowed. He could live wealth-crowned with honour, how largely he gave soe'er. His daughter, a gift all-priceless, had he given to Giselher; But to Gunther the peerless hero Rüdiger gave a thing That well might add new honour to the majesty of a king. Right seldom the King took presents, but he bowed him courteously As he took from the hand all-courteous the hauberk goodly to see. And a sword, a light of battle, unto Gernot the princely he gave; Ere long in the wild war-tempest mightily flashed that glaive. Smiled on him the wife of the Margrave as he took that gift from his hand. --Ah me, but her noble husband was to die by that same brand! Then, as well beseemed such a lady, unto Hagen Gotlind brought Gifts of her lovingkindness: since the King had refused them not, She prayed he would fare not forward unto Etzel's festal-tide Unholpen of her bounty; but the hero refused, and replied: "Of all things that ever," said Hagen, "I have seen unto this day, Nought I desire so sorely to bear with me hence away As the shield that hangeth yonder against your palace-wall: That same would I bear right gladly unto Etzel's festival." When heard of the wife of the Margrave was the word that Hagen spake, It wakened her sleeping sorrow: no marvel her tears outbrake! With anguish she called to remembrance the death of Nudung, her son, Whom Wittich had slain; and rekindled was the olden grief and moan. To the thane made answer the mother: "O yea, the shield will I give. Ah, would to God in Heaven that yet on the earth he might live Who bare it of old! In battle he slept the iron sleep. I must needs evermore lament him: sore cause have I to weep." Then the noble wife of the Margrave rose up from her carven chair, And she took down the shield of the dear dead with her own white hands, and bare And gave it, her gift unto Hagen: he received in his hands the same; Ay, and he won for the buckler new glory of deathless fame! {P. 232} A cover of bright-hued loomwork enfolded its blazonries. Never hath shone the daylight on better shield than this. So richly with precious gemstones bordered was its device, That, if any were fain to buy it, a thousand marks were its price. His squires bare forth at his bidding that shield for the mighty thane.