Epic poetry, German -- Translations into English; Nibelungen -- Poetry
Then Wolfhart had leapt on the minstrel, but in mid rush was he
held,
By the giant strength of his uncle, old Hildebrand, compelled.
{P. 311}
"I see thou wouldst play the madman in thy foolish wrath!" did he
cry.
"The favour of our Lord Dietrich thou wilt forfeit utterly!"
"Let loose thy lion, O keeper, so fiercely he chafes at the chain!
But and if to mine hands he cometh," cried Volker the mighty thane,
"Although his wondrous prowess had smitten the whole world dead,
I will slay him: no more hot answers from that mad tongue shall be
sped!"
In the eyes of the Bernese warriors blazed the onset's light:
Upswung his buckler Wolfhart, that battle-eager knight:
With the leap of a desert lion against that taunter he leapt:
Like a torrent up to the stairway his friends behind him swept.
But with what great leaps soever to the door of the hall he sped,
Old Hildebrand before him sprang to the stairway-head:
He would suffer none to outpace him, nor to plunge mid the war-surge
first
Ready the stern guests waited to quench their battle-thirst.
Full upon Hagen rushed he, old Master Hildebrand,
Loud rang the swords fierce-smiting in either hero's hand.
The crash of their mighty meeting spake out their fury afar.
Flashed from their clashing war-glaives a fire-red wind of war.
Then suddenly were they sundered by the sweep of the tide of fight,
By the inrushing charge of the Bern-folk afire with fury and might.
And as Hildebrand from Hagen on the tempest of battle was whirled,
Wolfhart the strong in that moment against bold Volker hurled.
On the helm of the viol-minstrel so mightily clashed his glaive,
That the steel's resistless keenness through the bands of the morion
clave:
That stroke did the aweless minstrel so fiercely, so swiftly repay,
That the sword-smitten harness of Wolfhart was a fountain of fiery
spray.
From the hauberks, as they hewed them, did the lightning-flashes
flare:
Grim was the hate these foemen each unto other bare!
Yet these twain Wolfwein parted, and he fronted Volker alone:
Had he not been a very hero, such deed he had never done!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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