Then weeping thus and wailing the queen her sorrows pour'd; "Woe's me, woe's me for ever! sure no fair foeman's sword Shiver'd thy failing buckler; 'twas murder stopp'd thy breath; O that I knew who did it! death I'd requite with death." XII Then wept and wail'd full shrilly her gentle maidens all With their beloved mistress; woe were they for the fall Of their noble master there in his blood embrued. Hagan the wrath of Brunhild had wreak'd with deadly feud. XIII Then spake the sorrow-laden, "Go hence with your best speed, Quick call up Siegfried's liegemen, his warriors good at need; To Siegmund, too, let tidings of my deep loss be borne, That he may help his daughter his murder'd son to mourn." XIV A messenger ran quickly, and came where slept the band Of Siegfried's chosen champions from the Nibelunger's land. Their merry cheer his tidings chang'd to sorrow deep. His tale they would not credit until they saw him weep. XV Thence quickly came he running where aged Siegmund lay From the king's aching eyelids sweet sleep was far away. His heart, I ween, foreboded the deed that had been done, And that the childless father no more should see his son. XVI "Wake, wake! Sir King! Sir Siegmund! Kriemhild, my lady dear, In haste hath sent me hither; she's plung'd in doleful drear; Woe, that all woe surpasses, wrings her inmost heart. Help her to mourn the misery, whereof you own a part." XVII Then said the king, half-rising, "What has happ'd of woe To the fair Lady Kriemhild, which here thou com'st to show?" "Alas!" replied he weeping, "concealment here is vain; The noble Netherlander, Siegfried, thy son, is slain." XVIII Then said the good King Siegmund, "Leave off such idle sport; For my sake spread no further this mischievous report. Were't true indeed that Siegfried my son were made away, Ne'er could I cease from wailing e'en to my dying day." XIX "If me you will not credit, but still will doubt my tale, Hark then yourself to Kriemhild, hear her so wildly wail, Her and her band of maidens, for noble Siegfried dead." Then sorely shudder'd Siegmund; deep cause had he for dread. XX Straight from his bed up sprang he, and his hundred warriors too; Their long sharp-edged weapons with hasty hand they drew. Where they heard the wailing, headlong they thither ran; Thither too Siegfried's thousand, each a chosen man, XXI Led by the shrieks of horror, ran with like eager speed. Some of the household fancied, they came for funeral weed. Well might they be confounded, and from their senses start. The sting of deadly sorrow was deep in every heart. XXII