He drove his dying nephew forth from the house to bear, But found his weight too mighty; he needs must leave him there. Then from the blood the wounded a clouded glance upcast; He saw that fain his uncle had help'd him at the last. LXVIII Then spake the fainting warrior, "Dear uncle, kind and true, No more can it avail me whatever you can do. But Oh! beware of Hagan; this seems me good to tell. Heart had never champion so furious and so fell. LXIX "And if my loving kinsmen would sorrow o'er my clay, This to the best and nearest, dear uncle, of me say, That I need no lamenting, that tears were better dried, That 'twas a king that slew me, and gloriously I died. LXX "Besides, in this wild slaughter I've sold my life so dear, That many a knight's pale lady 'twill cost full many a tear. If any ask the question, straight let the truth be shown. Here lie at least a hundred slain by this hand alone." LXXI Just then redoubted Hagan upon the gleeman thought, Whom the good knight Sir Hildebrand so late to death had brought. Thus he bespake the conqueror, "You for my grief shall pay; Of many a valiant champion you've robb'd us here to-day." LXXII So struck he then at Hildebrand, that all at once might hear 'Twas Balmung there was sounding, the sword that he whilere Had ta'en from noble Siegfried when he the hero slew. Well was his onset warded by the graybeard stout and true. LXXIII Sir Dietrich's aged liegeman the fearful stroke repaid With one that show'd, that he, too, wielded a griding blade; Still from the man of Gunther no drop of blood he drew. Sir Hagan with a second cut his good hauberk through. LXXIV Soon as aged Hildebrand felt the sharp gash aright, He look'd for worse, by waiting, from Hagan's stormy might; So o'er his back his buckler straight threw Sir Dietrich's man, And swift, though sorely wounded, away from Hagan ran. LXXV Now not a man was living of that Burgundian train Gunther except, and Hagan, these the sole breathing twain. Old Hildebrand thence hasted, with blood all dabbled o'er, And to the noble Dietrich his sorry tidings bore. LXXVI Apart he found him sitting, solemn and sad of cheer; What more might move his sorrow the prince had yet to hear. Straight Hildebrand beheld he clad in his bloody mail; He ask'd him of his tidings, yet fear'd to hear his tale. LXXVII "Now tell me, Master Hildebrand, what brings you here so wet With life-blood? Who has done it? What mischief have you met? I fear, you have been fighting in th' hall with yonder guests; I earnestly forbade it; you should have kept your lord's behests." LXXVIII