Now without is the door well warded, for Dankwart the keen stands there. Whosoever would win the threshold back hurled he down the stair. To the ringing music of sword-blades in many a hero's hand Within was the door well warded by Volker of Burgundy-land. Then over the tossing tumult a cry did the minstrel send: "Safe warded is the mansion, thou seest, Hagen my friend {P. 271} The door of Etzel's palace is locked and bolted amain Fast as with bars a thousand, by the hands of heroes twain!" So then when Hagen of Troneg saw that the door was fast, That battle-eager hero his shield behind him cast; Then, then in grimmest earnest he began to avenge the wrong. Then faint grew the hearts of the valiant, and palsied the might of the strong. When the Prince of Bern, Lord Dietrich, saw the marvels that he wrought, Saw Hagen the valiant cleaving the morions as he fought, Then sprang the chief of the Amals on a bench amidst of the hall, And he cried: "Here Hagen poureth a death-draught bitter as gall!" Well might the Lord of the Hunfolk be stricken with sore affright. --What hosts of his friends were falling down gulfs of death in his sight!-- Death's wings overgloomed him, for round him was closing the foes' stern ring. In anguish he sat--what profit was it now unto him to be King? Then cried in her fear unto Dietrich Kriemhild, a great king's wife: "Help me, O noble hero, O help me hence with life! By the chivalrous honour I pray thee of the princes of Amelung-land! For if yon Hagen reach me, death is at my right hand." "How may I avail to help thee," Dietrich the princely said, "O noble Daughter of Princes? For myself do I stand in dread, So fiercely the wrath is kindled of yon King Gunther's array, That for no man's life can I answer in this season of dismay." "Now nay, Lord Dietrich, noblest of all knights," cried the Queen; "Let the chivalry of thy spirit in this dark hour be seen. Forth of this place do thou help me or ever I lie here dead!" Of a surety the spirit of Kriemhild was anguished with mortal dread. "Nay then, if perchance it avail you, your help will I essay, Albeit have I seen never through many a perilous day Aflame with such bitter fury such hosts of warriors good. I see from the helmets spurting 'neath sword-strokes ever the blood!"