Then 'twixt the valiant couple a furious strife arose; King Gunther and Sir Iring, like hail they bandied blows. Yet the red blood could neither with all his buffets draw, So goodly was their harness without a fault or flaw. XVI With that he left King Gunther, and straight at Gernot ran; The fire from out his mailcoat to hammer he began. But then to him King Gernot made such a fierce reply, That the redoubted Iring he all but did to die. XVII From the prince he bounded; swift the warrior flew; Four of the Burgundians in a trice he slew, All high-descended courtiers from Worms across the Rhine; Well might the youthful Giselher at such a loss repine. XVIII "Now by heaven, Sir Iring!" in his wrath he said, "Thy life shall pay the forfeit for those who here lie dead Through thy remorseless fury."--He ran at him full fleet, And smote the Dane so sternly, he could not keep his feet. XIX Down he dropp'd before him grovelling in the gore; Sure then ween'd each beholder that he never more Blow would give or parry on a battle-day; Yet Iring all unwounded before his foeman lay. XX So deep his morion sounded, so loud the sword-stroke clash'd, His senses were confounded as to the ground he dash'd, And like a corpse, though living, he lay unconscious there; So wondrous was the prowess of strong-arm'd Giselher! XXI When from his brain bewilder'd the swoon had parted slow, Which had his wits confounded from that o'er mastering blow, Thought he, "I yet am living, and all unwounded, too. Now know I Giselher's manhood, and feel what he can do." XXII He heard his foes about him as there he lay o'erthrown; Worse would he have to suffer if once the truth were known Well, too, the youthful Giselher perceiv'd he standing by. Then thought he, from amongst them, by what device to fly. XXIII From the blood he started; pressing was his need; Sure for his good fortune he might thank his speed. From the house he darted just where Hagan stood, And struck at him in passing with all the force he could. XXIV Then thought the Knight of Trony, "Thou'rt in the clutch of death; Sure, but the devil guard thee, thou canst not 'scape with breath." Yet with a wound through th' head-piece he straight Sir Hagan paid; That did the knight with Wasky, his sharp and peerless blade. XXV Soon as fierce Sir Hagan felt the gash and pain, With his sword uplifted he rush'd upon the Dane. No more against his fury could Hawart's man make head; Swift down the stairs Sir Hagan pursued him as he fled. XXVI Above his head bold Iring held up his buckler strong; Had that same scanty staircase been full trice as long, No time had Hagan left him to strike a single stroke. Ah! what a shower of sparkles red from his morion broke! XXVII