Gunther passed over the river, to us would be wrought foul wrong By the insolence of this Hagen! For this shall his heart's blood pay! Yea, for my ferryman's murder his life shall atone straightway!" {P. 220} Then couched they over the bucklers for the onset-shock their spears, Gelfrat and Hagen the mighty: their rage was exceeding fierce. Dankwart the while and Elsè in fight clashed man against man. Right well did they prove their prowess, and stern was the strife that began. When was more gallant encounter of champions so renowned? In the mighty shock of their clashing was Hagen borne to the ground, Over his charger's crupper by Gelfrat's hand back-forced, Since the breast-band had snapped asunder: then first was Hagen unhorsed. With crashing of shivering lances then met their men withal. Swift to his feet leapt Hagen, more terrible from that fall Wherein by his enemy's lance-thrust he was hurled from the selle to the sward. As flaming fire against Gelfrat was the wrath of Troneg's lord. I know not in battle-travail who held each warrior's steed, For both had voided the saddle, and face to face on the mead Stood they, Hagen and Gelfrat: then each at the other sprang. Knights aided their lords: all round them the din of conflict rang. How furiously soever Hagen on Gelfrat leapt, Yet the sword of the noble Margrave from the hero's buckler swept A huge shard earthward-clanging; the sparks were as lightning-flame. Then the champion of King Gunther even to death's brink came. He lifted his voice, and to Dankwart he cried for aid, and he said: "Help me, O brother belovèd, for now am I hardly bestead Of a mighty-handed hero; he putteth in peril my life!" Answered him Dankwart the fearless, "Lo, I will part your strife!" With a leap of his horse he was on them: so fierce and fell a blow With the keen sword dealt he to Gelfrat, that in death he laid him low. Then Elsè would fain take vengeance for the mighty champion slain; But, so fast were they falling, backward borne were his vassal-train. Slain was his hero-brother, himself had a grievous wound: Full eighty of his war-thanes already were stretched on the ground A prey unto death the relentless: of need must the princely knight Flee from the men of Gunther in headlong-hasty flight. {P. 221}