"O kindreds, here before you two mighty bodies lie; Henceforth no man shall see them in house and field go by As we were used to behold them, familiar to us then As the wind beneath the heavens and the sun that shines on men; Now soon shall there be nothing of their dwelling-place to tell, Save the billow of the meadows, the flower-grown grassy swell! Now therefore, O ye kindreds, if amidst you there be one Who hath known the heart of the War-dukes, and the deeds their hands have done, Will not the word be with him, while yet your hearts are hot, Of our praise and long remembrance, and our love that dieth not? Then let him come up hither and speak the latest word O'er the limbs of the battle-weary and the hearts outworn with the sword." She held her peace, and there was a stir in the ring of men: for they who were anigh the Dayling banner saw an old warrior sitting on a great black horse and fully armed. He got slowly off his horse and walked toward the ring of warriors, which opened before him; for all knew him for Asmund the old, the war-wise warrior of the Daylings, even he who had lamented over the Hauberk of Thiodolf. He had taken horse the day before, and had ridden toward the battle, but was belated, and had come up with them of the wain-burg just as they had crossed the water. CHAPTER XXXI--OLD ASMUND SPEAKETH OVER THE WAR-DUKES: THE DEAD ARE LAID IN MOUND Now while all looked on, he went to the place where lay the bodies of the War-dukes, and looked down on the face of Otter and said: "O Otter, there thou liest! and thou that I knew of old, When my beard began to whiten, as the best of the keen and the bold, And thou wert as my youngest brother, and thou didst lead my sons When we fared forth over the mountains to meet the arrowy Huns, And I smiled to see thee teaching the lore that I learned thee erst. O Otter, dost thou remember how the Goth-folk came by the worst, And with thee in mine arms I waded the wide shaft-harrowed flood That lapped the feet of the mountains with its water blent with blood; And how in the hollow places of the mountains hidden away We abode the kindreds' coming as the wet night bideth day? Dost thou remember, Otter, how many a joy we had, How many a grief remembered has made our high-tide glad? O fellow of the hall-glee! O fellow of the field! Why then hast thou departed and left me under shield? I the ancient, I the childless, while yet in the Laxing hall Are thy brother's sons abiding and their children on thee call.