In the thirty-secondAventiure, after the nine thousand Burgundians under Dankwart have been slain, Hagen’s brother has one of his awe-inspiring moments in this strophe:
1939 “So we mir dirre leide,” sprach Aldrianes kint.
“nu wichet, Hiunen recken, ir lat mich an den wint,
daz der luft erküele mich sturmmüeden man.”
do sah man den recken vil harte herliche gan.
“Alas for this grief,” Aldriane’s son said, “stand back, you Hunnish knights, and let me out into the open, so that the breezes may cool me, a battle-weary man.” And he proceeded with magnificent stride.
It is not certain whether...