then shouted the margrave iring, the lord of the danefolk’s land:

“ever on quest of honour have i set mine heart and hand,

and have done my best endeavour where surges of fight tossed high.

bring me mine harness! my prowess against yon hagen i try.”

“thou shalt do it to thy destruction!” did hagen scornfully say.

“thou shouldst better bid these hunfolk to shrink yet farther away.

though twain, yea, three of you rushing essay to win this hall,

back grievously hurt will i send them; adown this stair shall they fall.”

“not for thy threats i refrain me!” cried iring with shining eyes.

“full oft ere this have i ventured on as perilous emprise.

alone will i withstand thee, and not with words, but the sword.

what care i for all thy vaunting, o thou tongue-valiant lord?”

then with speed was the good thane iring sheathed in knightly mail

and irnfried of thuringia, a heart unused to quail,

and hawart the strong, with a thousand warriors in battle-array,

stood eager to go where iring the hero led the way.

then looked the viol-minstrel, and beheld that huge war-band

that would press on after iring, armed all with shield and brand,

and upon their heads had they settled and laced the helmets bright.

then was the valiant volker exceeding wroth at the sight.

“seest thou, friend hagen,” he shouted, “how iring cometh on,

he that but now made proffer to meet thee in battle alone?

is it seemly that heroes be liars? contempt upon such i pour.

lo, armed at his side come onward a thousand knights or more!”

“liar me thou no liars!” hawart’s liegeman replied.

“unto you did i give a promise, and by that will i abide.

{p. 279}

my word shall not be broken for any craven fear!

be hagen never so grimly, alone will i meet him here.”

thereat did iring bow him at his friends’ and liegemen’s feet:

“suffer ye me unholpen,” he said, “yon knight to meet.”

right sorely loth they consented, for known to them well was the might

of hagen the burgundian, the overweening knight.

so long did he entreat them that at last they needs must yield.

when his friends and his faithful vassals beheld him steadfast-willed,

and marked how he thirsted for honour, at the last they let him go.

then did begin a grapple most grim ’twixt foe and foe.

iring the knight of daneland a casting-spear upswung;

for a fence of his breast the hero his shield before him flung:

swift to the meeting with hagen to the door of the hall he sprang;

then burst forth ’twixt those champions a mighty battle-clang.

the hands of the twain, ere they grappled, sped the javelins’ flight:

they pierced through the strong-knit bucklers, they rang on the hauberks bright,

that high above their helmets the splintered spear-staves flew;

and swiftly the two grim warriors their swords from the scabbards drew.

measureless might had hagen the dauntless above all men;

yet starkly did iring smite him, that the castle rang again:

through the halls and the towers of the palace did their blows’ wild echoes thrill.

yet the dane with his uttermost striving might compass not his will.

so iring turned him from hagen, who was woundless yet of his blows,

and now with the viol-minstrel in conflict did he close.

he weened, as he hailed grim sword-strokes, he should smite his foeman down;

but of fence exceeding cunning was that champion of renown.

so starkly smote the minstrel, that the studs were whirled through the air

by volker’s strong hand stricken from the shield that iring bare.

so he left him standing unwounded, for a terrible foe was he:

then turned he, and leapt upon gunther, the lord of burgundy.

so champion clashed with champion, giants in battle-might,

gunther and iring, and starkly each the other they smite;

{p. 280}

yet neither could redden the armour of other with gushing blood,

for the strong-knit links of the harness the edge of the steel withstood.

from gunther he swiftly hath turned him, and now upon gernot he springs;

he smiteth his mail, and he heweth flashes of flame from the rings.

but gernot the lord burgundian with such stark fury fought,

that to death’s sheer brink his prowess the valiant iring brought.

but he sprang from the prince—as a panther’s swift was the leap of the thane—

and four good knights burgundian with four great strokes hath he slain;

in the noble host of the vassals from worms over rhine they came.

never ere then so hotly did the wrath of giselher flame.

“by the living god, sir iring,” the young prince giselher cried,

“unto me shalt thou make atonement for these that here have died

even now by thy battle-brand stricken!” he leapt upon his foe,

and he lashed with a stroke so mighty that the dane reeled back from the blow:

as hurled from the hands of the smiter, backward he fell in blood,

that it seemed unto all beholders that the warrior stalwart and good

should never strike in battle another stroke of brand:

yet iring the while unwounded lay of giselher’s hand.

in sooth, so rang his helmet, so clashed the sword on his head,

that stunned he lay, and his senses awhile were utterly fled;

and indeed for a space he knew not whether he yet lived on.

even this unto him had the prowess of valiant giselher done.

when he came to himself, and out of the darkness his soul awoke

from the swoon wherein it had sunken at the falling of that great stroke,

then thought he: “behold, i am living! moreover, wound have i none.

now know i giselher’s prowess, the might of the valiant one!”

around him the feet of the foemen he heard, as they moved to and fro.

had they known that he lived, right swiftly had they ended him, i trow!

the voice of giselher heard he withal as he stood hard by;

and he pondered how from the foemen that ringed him round he should fly.

{p. 281}

from the blood like a very madman upsprang to his feet the knight—

well might he thank his fleetness for speeding thence his flight!

as out through the door he darted, lo, there did hagen stand,

and the dane hailed blows upon him with swift and sudden hand.

then hagen thought: “thou art surely now in the clutches of death!

except the foul fiend help thee, thou drawest thy latest breath!”

yet indeed had he wounded hagen with a stroke through his helm that clave:

that deed had he done with waske, a mighty battle-glaive.

when hagen the grim-hearted of the wound so dealt was ware,

in his grip with tenfold fury his war-glaive hissed through the air

in such wise that hawart’s liegeman must needs give back from his face,

and hagen, as down the stairway he fled, still held him in chase.

over his head his buckler he swung up, iring the strong,

to screen him: yet had the stairway been even thrice so long,

no time had hagen left him to strike one stroke of sword.

ha, how the red sparks streaming from his ringing helmet poured!

yet back unto friends and kinsmen unwounded iring returned;

and so soon as the lady kriemhild the wondrous tidings learned

how against hagen of troneg her champion had borne him in fight,

for this that daughter of princes poured forth her thanks to the knight:

“now god reward thee, iring, thou thane renowned and bold!

to mine heart hast thou brought comfort, and made me joyful-souled.

lo, i see on the battle-harness of hagen a bloody stain!”

and for joy took kriemhild the buckler herself from the hand of the thane.

“small cause wilt thou have to thank him,” cried hagen in fierce disdain:

“let but thy valorous champion essay the deed again;

if alive he win back ever, a hero indeed shall he be;

and as for the wound he hath dealt me, small joy shall it be unto thee!

for the little scratch i have gotten that mine harness reddeneth,

it hath but enkindled my fury unto many a warrior’s death:

against the liegeman of hawart mine anger it doth but whet.

small scathe thy champion iring hath done unto hagen yet!”

{p. 282}

for a space in the breeze fresh-blowing stood iring of danish land:

he cooled his limbs in his harness, he loosed his helmet-band.

all round him the folk stood praising his might and his chivalry,

and the heart of the lord of the marches thereat beat proud and high.

then once again spake iring: “good friends, i pray you go

and bring new arms: i am purposed again to essay yon foe,

if i haply may still the boaster, and abase the arrogant head.”

sore hacked was his shield, but a better they gave him in its stead.

soon stood the knight full-armoured in stronger warrior-gear:

he grasped in his battle-fury a stubborn-shafted spear,

and he set his face unto hagen to defy him to fight once more;

then leapt to meet him the hatred of that murder-wolf of war.

for hagen the thane would wait not for the coming of iring’s feet,

but hurling javelins before him he sprang his foe to meet

down all the length of the stairway: his fury was passing great.

ah, little did iring’s prowess avail in the hour of fate!

as the swords hewed through the bucklers, it was as a fierce wind blew

the sparks of a burning forest. then hawart’s liegeman true

gat from the sword of hagen a wound that bit to the brain

crashing through buckler and helmet—he was never whole again.

when ware was the good knight iring of the bite of the sword-edge keen,

higher he swung his buckler his rifted helm to screen.

he weened that in that grim sword-gash he had gotten scathe enow;

but gunther’s liegeman dealt him a yet more deadly blow:

for hagen caught at a javelin that lay at his feet on the ground;

at the daneland hero he hurled it, and his shieldless face it found,

and lo, the quivering spear-shaft stood out from his head behind.

from the hand of hagen the mighty a grim end did he find.

back to the ranks of his people staggered the fainting dane;

but ere they could raise the helmet from the piercèd head of the thane,

they must needs draw out the spear-shaft:—death’s hand upon him lay,

and his friends brake forth into weeping: good cause to weep had they!

{p. 283}

then kriemhild, daughter of princes, to the stricken man drew nigh,

and she cried over iring the stalwart an exceeding bitter cry;

over his wounds sore wept she: her heart was wrung with grief.

then spake in his kinsmen’s presence that battle-fearless chief:

“forbear thy lamentation, o lady royal-born.

what now availeth thy weeping? my life from my limbs is torn:

out through the wounds i have gotten it fleeteth fast away.

death putteth an end to my service of etzel and thee this day.”

unto dane he turned and thuringian, and bespake that warrior-band:

“the gifts that the queen hath proffered, take heed that no man’s hand

be tempted to earn that guerdon of the shining gold and red;

for if ye encounter hagen, ye shall look on the place of the dead.”

bloodless-grey was his visage: the tokens of death showed plain

on the brow of the valiant iring. their hearts were wrung with pain

for hawart’s hero-vassal, brave heart for ever stilled!

then a sudden fury of battle the danemark warriors thrilled.

on charged they, irnfried and hawart: they leapt to the guarded door,

and a thousand heroes followed. then roar on shattering roar

rang round in crashing echoes unearthly wild and high.

what hail of massy javelins did against the burgundians fly!

full on the viol-minstrel did irnfried the dauntless run,

but bitter scathe his daring from the hand of volker won;

for he dealt, that noble minstrel, the landgrave such a blow

that it cleft through the firm-knit helmet—in sooth was he grim enow!

wounded to death, yet irnfried smote one mighty stroke,

and the sword through the rings of the hauberk on the breast of the minstrel broke,

and over his mail fell flashing the links in a fiery rain:—

but now was he sped, and the landgrave fell, by the minstrel slain.

man against man clashed hagen and hawart in grapple of fight;

a tale might he tell of wonders who had looked upon that sight.

{p. 284}

like lashing rain fell swordstrokes from either hero’s hand,

till slain was the death-doomed hawart by him of burgundia-land.

when danefolk and thuringians beheld how their lords were slain,

maddened afront of the palace yet grimmer battle-strain,

as they struggled with mighty hand-strokes to win that portal through,

and through many a shield and helmet did the flashing steel-edge hew.

“give back from the door,” cried volker, “and let these enter in!

ha, but the prize that they look for not a man of them all shall win!

one and all shall they perish—ay, and that full soon.

with death shall they earn their guerdon, queen kriemhild’s golden boon!”

into the hall of slaughter those men high-hearted pressed,

but soon did many a warrior stoop to the earth his crest.

fast, fast by the lightning sword-strokes of its warders were they slain.

well fought the dauntless gernot, well giselher the thane.

into the great hall thronged they, a thousand men and four;

then flashed and flickered above them the dancing glaives of war,

till at last by the grim guests slaughtered one and all they lay.

well may bards sing the wonders of burgundia’s vengeance-day!

then suddenly died the tumult, there was silence in that hall,

save the sound of the blood-streams pouring through the channels in the wall

and rushing without down the rain-shutes, the blood of knightly foes

slain by the men of rhineland with their swords’ resistless blows.

then sat them down war-weary the sons of burgundia-land:

dropped was the massy buckler and the sword from the red right hand.

yet standing before the doorway did the valiant minstrel stay,

and watched, if haply a foeman would yet draw near for the fray.

sorely the king lamented, and the queen, with bitter cry;

sisters and wives were wailing in bereavement’s agony.

ah, death, i ween, full surely against them an oath had sworn,

for many a warrior’s life-thread by the guests was yet to be shorn.