at were within would have won out, but
Dankwart let none of them up the stair or down. Then a great crowd
gathered before the door, and the swords clanged loud upon the helmets,
so that Dankwart came in much scathe. Hagen feared for him, as was meet,
and he cried aloud to Folker, "Comrade, seest thou my brother beset by
the stark blows of the Huns? Save him, friend, or we lose the warrior."

"That will I, without fail," said the minstrel; and he began to fiddle
his way through the hall; it was a hard sword that rang in his hand.
Great thank he won from the knights of the Rhine.

He said to Dankwart, "Thou hast toiled hard to-day. Thy brother bade me
come to thy help. Do thou go without, and I will stand within."

Dankwart went outside the door and guarded the stair. Loud din made the
weapons of the heroes. Inside, Folker the Burgundian did the like. The
bold fiddler cried above the crowd, "The house is well warded, friend
Hagen; Etzel's door is barred by the hands of two knights that have made
it fast with a thousand bolts."

When Hagen saw the door secured, the famous knight and good threw back
his shield, and began to avenge the death of his friend in earnest. Many
a valiant knight suffered for his wrath.

When the Prince of Bern saw the wonders that Hagen wrought, and the
helmets that he brake, he sprang on to a bench, and cried, "Hagen poureth
out the bitterest wine of all."

The host and his wife fell in great fear. Many a dear friend was slain
before their eyes. Etzel himself scarce escaped from his foemen. He sat
there affrighted. What did it profit him that he was a king?

Proud Kriemhild cried to Dietrich, "Help me, noble knight, by the
princely charity of an Amelung king, to come hence alive. If Hagen reach
me, death standeth by my side."

"How can I help thee, noble queen? I cannot help myself. Gunther's men
are so grimly wroth that I can win grace for none."

"Nay now, good Sir Dietrich, show thy mercy, and help me hence or I die.
Save me and the king from this great peril."

"I will try. Albeit, for long, I have not seen good knights in such a
fury. The blood gusheth from the helmets at their sword-strokes."

The chosen knight shouted with a loud voice that rang out like the blast
of a buffalo horn, so that all the castle echoed with its strength, for
stark and of mickle might was Dietrich.

King Gunther heard his cry above the din of strife, and hearkened. He
said, "The voic