Siegfried, of the Netherlands, son of Siegmund and Sieglind, a warrior bold as he was young and comely, having heard of the great beauty of Kriemhild, desired to visit Worms that he might see the far-famed princess for himself.  Until this time he had been wandering through the world doing great deeds:  he had won the sword and treasure of the Nibelungs, had overcome their monarchs, had conquered a dwarf Alberich, gaining possession of his cloak of darkness.  Hagen, a mighty Burgundian paladin (in a passage which is obviously adapted from another version for the purpose of recounting Siegfried’s previous adventures), tells how “he had slain a dragon and made himself invulnerable by bathing in its blood.  We must receive him graciously, and avoid making him our enemy.”  Siegfried sojourned at Worms for over a year, distinguishing himself in all the martial exercises of the Burgundians and rendering them splendid service in their wars against the Saxons and Danes.  A year passed without his having been allowed to meet Kriemhild, who in secret cherished the utmost admiration for him.  Chagrined at the treatment meted out to him, he finally made up his mind to depart.  But his hosts did not desire to lose such a valuable ally, and brought about a meeting between him and the lady of his dreams.  The passage describing their first sight of one another is full of the essence of romance.

We are told that Kriemhild appeared before his eyes as does the rosy flush of dawn breaking from sombre clouds.  As he beheld her his heart was soothed and all his trouble vanished, for there stood she who had cost him many a love-pang, her eyes sparkling with pleasure, brighter than the rich jewels which covered her raiment, her cheeks suffused with the blushes of maidenhood.  No one had, he thought, ever seen so much beauty before.  As the silver moon obscures the light of the stars by its superior splendour, so did Kriemhild obscure the beauty of the ladies who surrounded her.  When he beheld her each hero drew himself up more proudly than ever and appeared as if ready to do battle for such a paragon of beauty.  She was preceded by chamberlains in rich attire, but no ushers might keep back the knights from sight of her, and they crowded about her to catch a glimpse of her face.  Pleased and sad was Siegfried, for, thought he, “How may I ever hope to win so peerless a creature?  The hope is a rash one.  Better were I to forget her—­but then, alas, my heart would have ceased to beat, and I should be dead!” Pale and red he grew.  He recked not of his own great worth.  For all there agreed that so handsome a warrior had never come to the Rhineland, so fair of body, so debonair was he.

The Wooing of Brunhild