"Alas! this bloody business!" Sir Hagan then went on, "We have had to bear much sorrow, and more shall have anon. Must friend with friend do battle, nor heaven the conflict part?" The noble margrave answer'd, "That wounds my inmost heart." LXVIII "Now for thy gift I'll quit thee, right noble Rudeger! Whate'er may chance between thee and my bold comrades here, My hand shall touch thee never amidst the heady fight, Not e'en if thou should'st slaughter every Burgundian knight." LXIX For that to him bow'd courteous the blameless Rudeger. Then all around were weeping for grief and doleful drear, Since none th' approaching mischief had hope to turn aside. The father of all virtue in that good margrave died. LXX Then from the house call'd Folker, the minstrel good at need, "Now that my comrade Hagan has to this truce agreed, From my hand too, Sir Rudeger, take firm and sure the same. You've ever well deserv'd it since to this land we came. LXXI "For me, most noble margrave! you must a message bear; These bracelets red were given me late by your lady fair, To wear at this high festal before the royal Hun. View them thyself, and tell her that I've her bidding done." LXXII "Ah! might it please th' Almighty," Sir Rudeger replied, "That the margravine hereafter should give you more beside! Yet doubt not, noble Folker, I'll bear this message fain To my true love and lady, if e'er we meet again." LXXIII So promis'd gentle Rudeger, nor longer dallied yet; Up his shield he lifted, and forward fiercely set. He leapt on the Burgundians like a prowest knight; Many a swift stroke among them he struck to left and right. LXXIV Sir Folker and Sir Hagan both from him further stepp'd According to their promise which faithfully they kept, But at the stairs were standing warriors so bold and stout, That Rudeger the battle began with anxious doubt. LXXV King Gunther and Sir Gernot in let him force his way To take his life the surer; stern knights and fierce were they. Young Giselher kept his distance; e'en yet he look'd for life, So spar'd, though half unwilling, the father of his wife. LXXVI Forward the margrave's warriors leapt with fierce intent; In their master's footsteps manfully they went. Sharp-cutting blades they brandish'd as in close fight they strove, And shiver'd many a buckler, and many a morion clove. LXXVII The guests, though faint and weary, dealt many a storm-swift blow At those of Bechlaren, that deep and smooth did go To flesh and bone and inward through links of iron weed. They wrought in that stern struggle full many a doughty deed. LXXVIII