(C) No mercy they showed thereafter, no foeman would they spare. Many a man down-beaten not sorely hurt fell there, Who might of his wounds have recovered, but overwhelmed by the flood Of war, 'neath the trampling of fighters he was drowned in a lake of blood. "Ah, woe is me for my brother," cried Giselher, "here laid low! Woe for the tale of sorrow that hour by hour doth grow! Yea, for my young bride's father for ever must I lament. The bitter scathe is twofold, and the grief that mine heart hath rent." Giselher looked on the father of his bride, where dead he lay; Then turned he from him to his vengeance on the last of the foes' array. Death stalked through the hall aye searching for the men of the Margrave slain, Till of all Bechlaren's vassals alive did none remain. Thereafter Gunther and Hagen and Giselher the young, And Dankwart and Volker the minstrel, the knights of fame far-sung, Unto that place went together where those dead twain were found, And sorely wept and lamented those heroes song-renowned. "Evilly death hath robbed us!" cried the young Prince Giselher: "Yet now refrain your weeping: let us forth to the outer air; Let us cool these reeking hauberks, O battle-weary thanes. Unto us, I ween, God willeth that but little of life remains." Sitting was one, one leaning against the stairway-wall; But again their hands were idle, for Rüdiger's liegemen all Lay dead within: the tumult of war had fallen asleep. Then Etzel's heart misgave him, so long was the hush and so deep. "Woe's me for this treacherous service!" in anger cried the Queen: "Too long be they holding parley! Our enemies therewithin {P. 305} Are like to be wholly scatheless of our champion Rüdiger's hand! He is plotting to send them safely back to Burgundia-land! What boots it, O King Etzel, that on this man we have heaped All wealth he desired soever? A foul return have we reaped! He that was pledged to avenge us, a truce with our foes will he make!" Unto her made answer Volker, and the knightly minstrel spake: "Not so, alas, is the story, O Queen exalted high; And--dared I unto such high-born lady to give the lie-- Thou dost lie in thy throat most foully of Rüdiger's trust betrayed. A sorry truce with the homeless he and his knights have made! With such good will he accomplished the hest of the King his lord, That he and all his liegemen be lying slain with the sword. Look round thee now, Queen Kriemhild, for another whom thou mayst send, For truly hath Rüdiger served thee unto the bitter end. If haply thou wilt not believe me, let thine eyes bear witness to thee." Then, to her heart's deep anguish, they gave proof plain to see; For they brought that mangled hero unto where of the King was he seen. Never the knights of Etzel knew grief so bitter-keen.