Now it happed that a knight of the Hunfolk beheld King Etzel go Safe under Dietrich's shielding, and would fain 'scape even so; But with a stroke so deadly the viol-minstrel swept The head from the skulker's shoulders, that to Etzel's feet it leapt. So when the Lord of Hunland came forth from the battle-wrack, He turned him about, and at Volker he looked in amazement back-- "Woe's me for the guests I have harboured! O day of sorrow and bane Wherein beneath their prowess all these my knights fall slain! Woe's me for my festal high-tide!" that king of nations said: "Within there fighteth a warrior, Volker, a name of dread. Like some wild boar he rageth--and a minstrel him they name! Thank Heaven that safe from the talons of this foul fiend I came! Doom rings and sings in his measures, red are the strokes of his bow; In his notes I hear the death-knell of many a knight laid low. What hath the viol-minstrel against us know I not. Never by guest such sorrow upon mine house was brought!"
(C) Straight to their harbourage went they, those noble warriors twain, Rüdiger, Lord of the Marches, and Dietrich, Bern's great thane. Themselves were steadfast-minded aloof from the quarrel to stay, And they straitly commanded their vassals to have nought to do with the fray. (C) Yet had those guests had foreknowledge of the mischief hard by the door, To be wrought by those two heroes, which for them fate had in store, Verily not so lightly had they won that hall-way through Ere those grim portal-keepers with the sword had smitten them too.
All whom they would had they suffered by this to pass from within; Then again brake forth in the feast-hall a yet more fearful din. Grimly the guests avenged them for the broken troth and the wrong. Ha, how were the helmets cloven by the arm of Volker the strong! To the clash of that deadly music King Gunther turned him about-- "Hearst thou the tunes, O Hagen, that Volker beateth out On the heads of the Huns, whosoever essay the door that he keeps? Red are the strings of the viol whereover his swift bow leaps!" "Sore is mine heart above measure for this thing," Hagen replied, "That in this hall-feast I am sundered afar from the good thane's side Ever was I his comrade, and he true comrade to me. We will dwell, if we win home ever, in love and loyalty. Behold, Lord King, is Volker to thee not faithful-souled? Nobly he earneth guerdon of thy silver and thy gold! His viol-bow goeth cleaving the adamant steel in twain, And the gemmed helm-crests are shattered and scattered in flashing rain. Never beheld I minstrel stand such a lord of the fray As Volker the thane hath proved him on this his glory-day. Hark, how through helm and shield-plate his measures clash and gride! He shall yet wear kingly raiment, and goodly steeds bestride."