Soon stood the knight full-armoured in stronger warrior-gear: He grasped in his battle-fury a stubborn-shafted spear, And he set his face unto Hagen to defy him to fight once more; Then leapt to meet him the hatred of that murder-wolf of war. For Hagen the thane would wait not for the coming of Iring's feet, But hurling javelins before him he sprang his foe to meet Down all the length of the stairway: his fury was passing great. Ah, little did Iring's prowess avail in the hour of fate! As the swords hewed through the bucklers, it was as a fierce wind blew The sparks of a burning forest. Then Hawart's liegeman true Gat from the sword of Hagen a wound that bit to the brain Crashing through buckler and helmet--he was never whole again. When ware was the good knight Iring of the bite of the sword-edge keen, Higher he swung his buckler his rifted helm to screen. He weened that in that grim sword-gash he had gotten scathe enow; But Gunther's liegeman dealt him a yet more deadly blow: For Hagen caught at a javelin that lay at his feet on the ground; At the Daneland hero he hurled it, and his shieldless face it found, And lo, the quivering spear-shaft stood out from his head behind. From the hand of Hagen the mighty a grim end did he find. Back to the ranks of his people staggered the fainting Dane; But ere they could raise the helmet from the piercèd head of the thane, They must needs draw out the spear-shaft:--death's hand upon him lay, And his friends brake forth into weeping: good cause to weep had they! {P. 283} Then Kriemhild, Daughter of Princes, to the stricken man drew nigh, And she cried over Iring the stalwart an exceeding bitter cry; Over his wounds sore wept she: her heart was wrung with grief. Then spake in his kinsmen's presence that battle-fearless chief: "Forbear thy lamentation, O Lady royal-born. What now availeth thy weeping? My life from my limbs is torn: Out through the wounds I have gotten it fleeteth fast away. Death putteth an end to my service of Etzel and thee this day." Unto Dane he turned and Thuringian, and bespake that warrior-band: "The gifts that the Queen hath proffered, take heed that no man's hand Be tempted to earn that guerdon of the shining gold and red; For if ye encounter Hagen, ye shall look on the place of the dead." Bloodless-grey was his visage: the tokens of death showed plain On the brow of the valiant Iring. Their hearts were wrung with pain For Hawart's hero-vassal, brave heart for ever stilled! Then a sudden fury of battle the Danemark warriors thrilled. On charged they, Irnfried and Hawart: they leapt to the guarded door, And a thousand heroes followed. Then roar on shattering roar Rang round in crashing echoes unearthly wild and high. What hail of massy javelins did against the Burgundians fly!