Then the wife of Etzel commanded to set the hall aflame. Now on the heroes the torment of a fiery furnace came. The house was enwrapped in the leaping flames by a great wind blown. Never, I ween, such anguish by a leaguered host was known! Within were there voices crying: "Woe's me for this horror of pain! Better that dead we were lying in the storm of battle slain! God upon us have mercy!--how utterly are we lost! Grimly the Queen is wreaking her vengeance on all this host!" Cried a voice yet again through the hot reek: "Here must we meet our doom! Unto such a festal high-tide did the false King bid us come? Thirst in this flaming furnace so sore tormenteth me, That fainteth my life and faileth in this mine agony!" Then shouted Hagen of Troneg: "O noble knights and good, Whoso by thirst is tormented, here let him drink of the blood. In heat thus fiercely scorching better than wine it is: In this our strait moreover may we find none better than this." Then a certain knight which heard him went unto one of the dead; He bowed him down to the death-gash, he loosed the helm from his head; He drank of the blood fresh-flowing, and deep and long he quaffed Of a cup theretofore untasted, and sweet to his lips was the draught. "God guerdon thee, Lord Hagen," the weary warrior cried, "For this good drink I have gotten, who took thy counsel for guide! Never hath cupbearer poured me more soul-refreshing wine. So long as I live am I bounden to thee for this rede of thine." {P. 290} Now when his fellows heard it, that counsel seemed them good, And behold, there was many another that likewise drank of the blood: Therefrom in the frames of the warriors was strength and life renewed; By many a wife on the morrow in the death of her lord was it rued. From the roof great fragments flaming fell heavily all round; But their heads with the shields they warded, and dashed the brands to the ground. The rolling smoke and the scorching tormented them full sore: Never, I ween, unto heroes befell such pain before. Then again spake Hagen of Troneg: "Stand ye close to the wall: Suffer ye not the firebrands on your helmet-bands to fall, But beneath your feet do ye trample and quench in blood the flame. Unto an evil high-tide at Kriemhild's bidding we came!" Amid such tribulation the night drew on to an end. And ever the valiant minstrel kept guard with Hagen his friend, Before the palace-portal on his shield-rim resting a hand, Aye watching against new onslaughts from the men of Etzel's land. (C) Much it advantaged the heroes that the hall was vaulted o'er: By reason thereof, in the morning there lived so many the more. Albeit on them at the windows more hotly the flame-tongues played, Unflinching did they withstand them as valour and honour bade.