As the men of the land Bavarian fled from the face of their foes, Ringing and clanging behind them ever echoed the dread death-blows, As the vassals of Troneg's hero held them close in chase. Whoso would 'scape, small respite had he in that terrible race! But amidst of pursuit and slaughter, to the rest cried Dankwart the thane: "Halt! on the path of our journey backward turn we the rein. Let us leave them riding in panic, while fast their gashes bleed. Back to our friends let us hasten: of a truth 'tis the better rede." When back to the place of their conflict they came, where many had died, Spake Hagen of Troneg: "Heroes, now let us be certified Who from our ranks be missing, whom of our friends we have lost Here, where the wrath of Gelfrat so many lives hath cost." So they numbered, and four were lacking; but for these they made short moan. Well were they avenged of a surety! For the deaths of these to atone There lay of Bavaria's champions more than a hundred dead. The shields of the men of Troneg with blood were bedimmed and red. Fitfully out of the cloud-rack brake the clear moon's light. Then to the rest spake Hagen: "Let no man tell this night To my well-belovèd liege-lords what hap hath befallen us here. Till the morrow, as touching our welfare, no care let them know nor fear." When the rest of the host was o'ertaken by these which had come from the fray, Behold, all men were complaining for weariness of the way. "How long must we ride unresting?" many a warrior cried. Spake Dankwart the brave: "No hostel is here wherein to abide. Needs must ye still ride onward till breaketh the light of day." Then Volker the swift war-helper, which ordered their array, Sent one to ask of the Marshal: "Where shall we halt to-morn, Where the steeds and our well-loved masters may rest with toil outworn?" But answered Dankwart the fearless: "I may not certainly say. But we cannot and may not rest us till dawn in the sky is grey: {P. 222} Then, wheresoever we find us, on the grass must we lay us to rest." Heavily weighed the tidings on many a warrior's breast. Unbewrayed by the blood red-reeking through those dark hours they rode, Till the sun shot forth, for a greeting to Morning's feet, as they trode The crests of the hills, his flame-shafts. Then straightway the King espied The tokens of that grim conflict, and in indignation he cried: "What meaneth this, friend Hagen? And thought ye scorn of our aid, That I might not come to your helping when the rings of your mail were made Red with the blood of battle? Who brought you unto this plight?" He answered: "The deed was Elsè's: he fell on us in the night. To avenge his ferryman's slaying his riders pursued us fast. Dead by the hand of my brother Gelfrat to earth was cast. Then Elsè fleeing outran us--of sore need surely he fled! Of us but four, but a hundred of them, on the field lie dead."