At early dawn there sounded sweet flute and trumpet-clang; 'Twas the hour of parting; to work the warriors sprang. With a hasty kiss fond lovers were then constrain'd to sever. With woe and death fell Kriemhild soon sunder'd them for ever. XII The children of fair Uta a man had at their court, Bold alike and faithful, in all of best report. The same, as they were going, drew the king aside. "Woe's me," said he, "dear master, you to this feast will ride." XIII The good knight's name was Rumolt, a tall man of his hands. Said he, "To whom commit you your people and your lands? Would one could turn your warriors to do what best you should; This message of your sister's it never seem'd me good." XIV "This is my will and pleasure; to thee my infant heir, To thee I trust my country; of the women take good care; Whomever thou see'st weeping, his woe with comfort charm. Sure at the hands of Kriemhild we ne'er can come to harm." XV For the kings and for their liegemen the steeds were ready ranged; How many then, with kisses of true love interchanged, Full flown with lively vigor, athirst for bold emprise, Left each a stately lady to droop in tears and sighs. XVI When light into their saddles up sprang the warriors good, Then might you see the women how sorrowful they stood. All felt, they did for ever, and to their doom, depart, A dreary, dark foreboding, that shakes the firmest heart! XVII As the bold Burgundians rode forth in gallant show, To see them all the country ran hurrying to and fro. On either side the mountains both men and women wept. Little reck'd they the weepers; their joyous course they kept. XVIII In habergeons a thousand the knights of Nibelung's reign, Who many a lovely lady they ne'er should see again Had left at home in sorrow, rode gaily with the rest. The wounds of Siegfried fester'd in Kriemhild's throbbing breast. XIX So went they ever onward until the Main they spied, Thence up through Eastern Frankland the men of Gunther hied. Well knew the roads Sir Hagan, who led their steps aright; Their marshal was Sir Dankwart, the stout Burgundian knight. XX As on from Eastern Frankland to Schwanfeld still they rode, Their grace and stately courtesy and knightly bearing show'd, The princes and their kindred deserv'd their lofty fame. The king on the twelfth morning unto the Danube came. XXI A space the Knight of Trony rode on before the host; He still the Nibelungers best cheer'd and aided most. The fear-defying champion alighted on the lea, And fast beside the river his horse tied to a tree. XXII Swoln was the roaring river, bark was there none to spy; Every bold Nibelunger look'd on with wistful eye In doubt how to pass over, the surges spread so wide. Many a good knight from saddle down sprung the stream beside.