Epic poetry, German -- Translations into English; Nibelungen -- Poetry
Then saw the men of Blödel how their good lord lay slain,
And their hands from the guests Burgundian no longer would they
refrain.
With swords for the onset uplifted they rushed in furious mood
On the squires--but this their emprise ere long full many rued.
With a great voice then to his henchmen all did Dankwart cry:
"Ye see well, squires brave-hearted, they have doomed us all to die!
Now, homeless men, defend you, for sore is your need, I ween,
--So then for this were we bidden guests of a gracious queen!"
Then, whoso were swordless, 'twixt table and seat good weapons they
found,
For many a massy footstool swung they up from the ground.
O yea, those youths Burgundian would flinch no foot from the fray,
But with those ponderous maces the foes' helms dinted they.
How grimly the friendless yeomen defended them in the fight!
Those armèd knights from the feast-hall they drave in huddled flight.
Five hundred--yea, more, it may be--fled not, for they lay there
dead.
There yeomen and squires all blood-drenched stood and crimson-red.
In a little while thereafter these heavy tidings came
To the knights of King Etzel: with anguish and wrath were their souls
aflame
That Blödel with all those warriors nought save death had won.
This had the brother of Hagen with his squires and his yeomen done.
Or ever the King might hear it, a host of the Hunfolk stood,
Two thousand--yea, more, it may be--mail-clad, in furious mood.
They fell on the squires--one ending alone could there be to the
strife;--
And they left of all that concourse no single soul in life.
For a mighty host did the traitors lead to that hostelry,
And the homeless men unarmoured withstood them valiantly.
{P. 265}
What profited strength and valour? One doom of death did they find.
--But the feet of a terrible vengeance were treading close behind.
Now must ye hear a marvel and a horror hard to be said:
Burgundian squires nine thousand in the hall of blood lay dead,
And with these lay the knights of Dankwart, twelve battle-helpers
good;
And alone at last and unholpen in the midst of his foes he stood.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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