This was much to Hagen’s mind, and he agreed thereto. Then the swan-maiden said: “With ample safety ye may ride Into King Etzel’s land: I pledge on this my truth and troth, And therewithal my hand, “That never noble king’s array Did win in foreign State, Such honor and such lofty fame, Believe--such is your fate.” Overjoyed at these words, Hagen restored to the nymphs their strange garments; and no sooner had they donned them than straightway they became white swans. Then spake the other water-nymph, This one Sieglind’s hight: “I warn thee, Hagen Tronege, Sir Adrian’s son of might, “That to obtain the clothes, my aunt Has said what is not true: For shouldst thou journey to the Huns, That journey thou shalt rue. “Turn back again, ye heroes, There yet is time, I ween; For ye to this high festival, Have only bidden been “That ye should thereby perish, In royal Etzel’s land; And all who thither ride, To death extend the hand!” Then Hagen, seized with fury, cried: “Now, by my faith, thou liest in thy speech! No cause is it for all to die that one among us hath incurred deep hate.” Again the nymph in sorrow spoke: “Yet fate hath so declared, Of all your gallant company Shall only one be spared-- “And he, the chaplain of the King, As we full well do know, He only, home returning, to King Günther’s land shall go.” Then would Hagen hear no more, but asked if there was no ferryman at hand. She told him the ferryman’s house was on the other bank of the Danube, and warned him to be on his guard with the man and speak him fair, or evil might come of it, for he was of wrathful temper and a stout liegeman of the prince to whom the land on that side of the river belonged. At this Hagen looked scornfully and rode away, but again the Swan-maidens called to him, and bade him call himself Amelrich, for that name would surely bring the boatman. Therewith they arose in the air in their swan-garments and soon had vanished from sight. When Hagen spied the house across the stream he gave a mighty shout which brought the ferryman to the door. Hanging a heavy gold clasp upon the point of his sword, Hagen held it aloft so that it gleamed in the sunlight, and offered it to him, at the same time calling himself Amelrich, whereupon the doughty boatman seized the oars and rowed his boat across the river. No sooner had it touched the bank than Hagen sprang quickly into it, but the man shouted furiously: “Now hast thou lied to me! Thou art not my brother Amelrich, so on this side mayst thou bide, forsooth!” Hagen’s brow darkened, yet still he sought to speak him fair. “I am a stranger here,” he said, “and with me ride a thousand knights and many followers besides. We would fain go on our way, wherefore take this gold and ferry us across the stream.”