If you have never been interested in middle high Germanic poetry, here is your addictive introduction to the genre. Don’t confuse it with Wagner’s opera, The Ring of the Nibelungs (Der Ring des Nibelungen) – the opera is based only very loosely on this story, which is loosely related to certain Norse legends and historical figures.

It begins by introducing Kriemhild, a beautiful princess who has decided never to get married, and Sigfrid, a prince who is heroic, noble and almost invincible. Even in the very first chapter/canto/adventure, it is predicted that Kriemhild will marry someone who will die tragically, though she is determined not to. Of course, Sigfrid hears of her, decides that she is a woman worthy of his love, and brings his best men to visit her brothers, who rule the country of the Rhine. Though Sigfrid is originally very pushy – threatening to take their country by force – he lets them befriend him, and eventually helps them out when they are attacked. Eventually, he calls on the Nibelungs, a mysterious and fabulously wealthy race of mighty warriors whom he had previously conquered. The Nibelungs, Sigfrid’s men and Kriemhild’s brothers’ kingdom seem united in common friendship.

However, Kriemhild’s brother has also decided that he wants to marry a princess famed for her beauty and disdain of men, Brunhild – who is superbly strong, as well. He asks Sigfrid’s help to woo Brunhild, and unwittingly starts a chain of events which will ultimately destroy them all.

This poem’s radically Catholic foundations show in the characters’ encounters with death and each other: they understand that they are not in control and that they are following Another’s plan in their lives, but they continue to pray and sacrifice for each other. They are held to very strict rules of chivalry and ‘fair play’ which guard charitable action, and once they begin to transgress these rules, they harm not only each other but themselves. Tension builds throughout the story as the reader is encouraged to find a good and just character, and is unable; even those who were initially reasonable (or at least excusable) become evil and bloody by the end. Often their greatest virtue becomes their downfall, when they cease to guide it through charity: Kriemhild’s extraordinary love for her husband, Hagen’s loyalty and pragmaticism, Attila’s benevolent complacency.

Ryder’s verse translation is excellent, keeping close to the original metre and avoiding the contorted grammar of so many poetic translations. Some of the lines are almost amusingly colloquial. For instance, Sigfrid puts on a magic cloak of invisibility to help Kriemhild’s brother at one point, confusing Kriemhild:

She turned to his men and said, “How very weird!
I wonder now, where could the king have gone?”

Ryder excels in his descriptions of battle, and, curiously enough, this epic poem has more than an ordinary description of practical matters in the courtly life: before Gunther, Kriemhild’s brother, goes off to woo his bride, he reminds her:

“And take good note, my lady, of what I say.
The four of us must have, for every day
Of four, three changes of clothes, in perfect taste,
Lest when we leave Brunhild’s land we go disgraced.”

The constant foreshadowing of danger and tragedy keeps the story interesting while it tells of happy years, and leads smoothly into the death and destruction of the second half. Despite the cautions, though, by the end the story becomes so bloody that one is set to wondering where it should have ended – what alternate actions would have stopped the chain of events and led to peace. It is an amazing and even enjoyable story of good people who, motivated by what they consider to be righteous anger, destroy each other and all those they love.