Then marked grim Hagen of Troneg how Volker the knight lay slain. That was in all this high-tide the deepest-piercing pain That of any mischance unto kinsman or vassal or friend he had proved. How sternly did Hagen set him to avenge his best-beloved! "For this shall he not go scatheless, yon greybeard Hildebrand! Low lieth my battle-helper, slain by the hero's hand, The truest and best war-fellow that ever stood by my side." He swung up his shield: fierce-hewing on the vengeance-quest he hied. Then dealt Helfrich the stalwart unto Dankwart a deadly blow: Unto Giselher and Gunther 'twas a grievous sight enow When there they beheld him fallen in death's strong agony; Yet his own hands had avenged him, and not alone did he lie. (C) For all that so many thousands had gathered from many a land, With their princes mighty-armoured, against that little band, Yet, had not the Christian warriors at the last against them fought, Deliverance from the heathen their prowess, I trow, had wrought. Wolfhart the while went cleaving a blood-path to and fro; He lashed at the liegemen of Gunther, he laid their bravest low: For the third time now was he hewing a death-way round the hall; Before his mighty hand-strokes did many a good knight fall. Then cried aloud unto Wolfhart the stalwart Giselher: "Alas for me, who have gotten so grim a foeman there! O valiant knight and noble, hither to meward turn! I will end it--no more the destroying flame of thy wrath shall burn." {P. 314} Then unto Giselher turned him Wolfhart amidst of the fight. Many a wound wide-gaping did strong knight deal unto knight. To meet the Prince with fury so eager Wolfhart flashed, That over his head from the blood-pools by his feet were the red drops dashed. With stern strokes swift as the lightning did the son of Uta the fair Unto Wolfhart the dauntless champion give terrible welcome there. How stark soe'er was the hero, death on his foe's sword hung. Never more dreadless valour was found in a prince so young! He smote, and through Wolfhart's hauberk that gallant heart he found, So that forth of the wound outrushing his life-blood streamed to the ground; Yea, unto death was stricken Dietrich's vassal-knight:-- None save a battle-champion had wrought such a deed of might! Wolfhart knew it his death-wound, but the hero undismayed Cast from his arm his buckler; his adamant-tempered blade, His sword of the edge all-cleaving, in both hands high did he swing, And he smote the son of Uta through helm and through hauberk-ring. Death-stricken each by other down fell they side by side; By one grim doom that liegeman of Dietrich and Giselher died. Hildebrand, that grey warrior, saw Wolfhart overthrown: Of a truth, through all his life-days such pain had he never known.