and bitter-souled,
When the tale how their king was a captive that day in their ears was told.
And they bare to his brother the tidings, and the storm of his wrath outbrake
In madness of fury and anguish for his captive brother’s sake.
Now by this had the king of the Danefolk been led from the field of fight
Back to the host of Gunther by Siegfried’s resistless might;
And to Hagen’s hand did he give him: glad were his friends for the word
That the King of the land of Denmark was the spoil of Siegfried’s sword!
Then they cried through the host, “To the spear-staves bind ye the banners on!”
“Forward!” rang Siegfried’s war-cry: “great deeds this day shall be done
Ere the evenfall, if my sinews fail not, if I lose not life!
This day through the land of the Saxons shall be rued by many a wife!
Heroes of Rhineland, whither I press before, take heed!
To the heart of Lüdiger’s war-host cleaving your path will I lead:
Ye shall see brave hewing of helmets by many a hero’s hand!
Ere back from the battle we turn us, shall sorrow o’ercloud this land.”
Now on their steeds have Gernot and the men of his war-band sprung;
In the grasp of the warrior-minstrel is the battle-flag upflung;
Volker is bearing the banner afront of them all to the fray:—
Yea, the very hearts of the camp-folk leap to the onset to-day!
Now the host that they led to the war-shock in no more than a thousand was told,
Save for those twelve knights of Siegfried. In clouds was the dust uprolled
From the tramp of the mighty horse-hoofs as they charged across the field:
Ever gleamed through the eddying darkness the glint of many a shield.
Now nearer and nearer the Saxons drew, and the flashing was seen
Of the tossing sea of their broadswords—O, the edges thereof were keen!—
Swung up, as telleth the story, in many a champion’s hand.
They were fain to thrust back the aliens from castle and from land.
Onward the battle-marshals the ranks to the war-shock led,
Onward withal Prince Siegfried with those his twelve knights sped
Which companioning his journey afar from the Low Land went.
Many a hand in the war-storm that day saw blood-besprent.
Now Sindold and Hunold and Gernot in the forefront of battle smite,
And many a hero falleth before them dead in the fight;
Ere they could prove their valour they slept the iron sleep:—
Ah, for their fate must many a lovely lady weep!
Volker and Hagen and Ortwein with shattering strokes made dim
The splendour of many a helmet in the battle bitter-grim;
For the blood streamed over the morions where the aweless heroes fought:
Yea, many a marvel of prowess the hand of Dankwart wrought.
Now the Danes are essaying how mighty are the broadswords that they wield:
Loud rang the clashing and clanging of shield that shocked on shield;
And the griding glaives keen-whetted made the hot blood spurt through the mail;
Nor for nought did the battle-fearless Saxons their foes assail.
Onward the fierce Burgundians through that war-thicket clave,
And many a wound wide-gaping they dealt with the deadly glaive.
All over the saddle-housings the blood ran streaming down:
So strove those dauntless champions for the winning of renown.
Far afront rang out the clashing of the helmet-sundering brand
In the grasp of the mightiest champions, where the knights of Netherland
Pressed after their lord on-charging through the heart of the battle-din:
Those Twelve in knightly fashion, where Siegfried led, burst in.
No man of the warriors of Rhineland could follow where these rode:
From far they beheld the blood-streams as in sudden crimson they flowed
Through the bright helms riven asunder by Siegfried’s smiting hand,
Till he found where Lüdiger battled afront of his own war-band.
Three times through their reeling squadrons did the Son of Siegmund ride
From end to end of their war-host—now Hagen fights at his side;
Yea, mightily now doth he help him to accomplish his will in the fight.
Borne down by their onset perished full many a valiant knight.
But face to face with Siegfried at last strong Lüdiger came,
And saw in his hand upleaping the great sword’s battle-flame,
Saw the edges of Balmung cleaving through his knights a death-strewn path.
Then the heart of the dauntless Saxon was swept by a storm of wrath.
Then hurled were the surges of battle together with clash of swords,
As the war-bands closed in the grapple of fight around their lords,
And the two kings sought each other with uttermost desire.
Reeled squadrons sundered before them till they met, for their hate was as fire.
To the Lord of the land of the Saxons long since the tidings came
How his brother was taken captive, and for this was his wrath aflame;
But he wotted not who had achieved it: nought knew he of Siegelind’s son,
For
