Three high-born Kings and wealthy guarded and held her dear; Gunther and Gernot, heroes in prowess without a peer, And Giselher the youngest, unmatched in foughten field: Their sister was she and their glory, and her sword were they and her shield. Lords were they of noble lineage, and of courtesy the crown, And their aweless might was matchless, and limitless their renown; And over the Land Burgundian they stretched the sceptred hand, Ere the strange, grim end of their story was told in Etzel's land. { P. 2} In the City of Worms by the Rhine-flood these Kings in their might abode, And the best in the whole land served them, the proudest knights that rode, With glory of homage served them through their life's triumphant tide-- Till the day when in woeful battle through the Feud of the Queens they died. And the mother that bare them was Uta, and the treasures of queens were hers, And their father the old king Dankart, and he made them heritors Of his realm in the hour of his dying, a champion mighty of old, Who in days of his youth reaped harvest of glory manifold.
As the tale of their goodlihead telleth, such kings were they, these three, Strong, fearless lords; and the vassals that bent before them the knee Were the best of all of whose doings their songs have the minstrels made, Stalwart and aweless of spirit, in battle unafraid. For these were Hagen of Troneg, and Dankwart his brother withal The battle-eager, and Ortwein the warder of Metz's wall; And with these stood Gere and Eckwart, lords of the marches twain, And Volker the Knight Alsatian, the name without a stain; And Rumold the feast-arrayer, a worship-worthy lord; Sindold and Hunold, which ever kept heedful watch and ward For the state of the palace royal, that all should be ordered well; And with these were there knightly vassals whose tale no bard may tell. Dankwart was their palace-marshal, and beside the feastful board Waited his nephew Ortwein, of Metz was he overlord; And Sindold bare them the wine-cup, a goodly baron he; And Hunold was chamberlain, perfect in utterest courtesy. But of all their palace-splendour, and their might renowned afar, And the majesty of their worship, and their knightly deeds of war, And the joy that the kingly heroes therein had all their days-- No minstrel hath wholly told it, no harp sung all their praise.