Then came his brother Dankwart before the chatelaine, And on him rich-broidered vesture did the Margrave's daughter bestow Which thereafter he wore glad-hearted in the halls of the Hunland foe. But of all gifts Rüdiger gave them, how great soever of worth, Unto none had the haughty princes stretched a finger forth, Were it not for his courteous kindness, and the love it begat that day-- Yet ere long were they foes so bitter that they needs must smite him and slay! Then Volker the battle-eager, with his viol in his hand, Stepped forth with courtly bearing before Gotlind to stand; And the sweet notes rang through the feast-hall as he chanted the lovely lay. So took he leave of the Lady ere he passed from Bechlaren away. Then the wife of the Margrave commanded that her maids unto her should bring A casket--of gifts love-sweetened now shall the minstrel sing:-- Twelve armlets she took from the coffer, and she slid them over his hand: "These bear thou, Volker, I pray thee, into King Etzel's land; And there for my sake shalt thou wear them in presence of King and thane, That folk may tell me the story, when hither thou comest again, Of the courtly service rendered unto me of Etzel's guest." And the bold knight did thereafter according to all her request. Then spake to his guests the Margrave: "For your safe journeying hence Myself will be your escort: so strong shall be your defence, That none shall set upon you to do you hurt by the way." Then was his sumpter-palfrey saddled without delay. Arrayed he stood for the journey, and, furnished with raiment and steed Good knights with him five hundred; and all these thence did he lead {P. 233} Bound for the Hunfolk's high-tide with merry hearts and light-- There returned again to Bechlaren of them all no single knight! Then did their host with kisses of love from his dear wife part; With kisses was Giselher sundered from his bride; with yearning heart They held in their arms fond-clasping their wives, the passing fair. Ah, soon bewept full sorely by many a maiden they were! All through that stately castle they flung the casements wide To see the Lord of the Marches with all his men forth ride. Their hearts with mournful boding whispered to them, I trow: Wept many a winsome lady and maiden to see them go. For beloved friends and for kinsmen all these were sorrowing sore Whom the watchers should see returning to Bechlaren never more. Yet rode that company blithely down to the river-strand, And far through the Danube-valley away to the Hunfolk's land.