Then sat them down the warriors to rest them toil-forspent. But forth of the feast-hall doorway Volker and Hagen went;
And leaning upon their bucklers, as in scorn of foes without,
Spake they together, casting at the Hunfolk gibe and flout.
Then cried the Prince Burgundian, Giselher the thane:
“We may not, O friends belovèd, resting longer remain.
We must needs first hale the corpses forth of the palace-hall;
For our foes, I say of a surety, again upon us will fall.
Nowise it befitteth that longer clogging our feet they lie.
Ere the foe in the storm of battle from us wrest victory,
Deep wounds will we hew full many, and sweet is the thought unto me;
Yea, my heart is set on the war-feast,” said Giselher, “steadfastly.”
“Glad am I that such a war-lord I have!” cried Hagen the grim.
“This counsel well beseemeth no meaner knight than him,
But such an one as the young Prince hath proved him to-day in your sight:
And for this, O thanes Burgundian, blithe be your hearts and light!”
Then did they after his counsel, and out through the door they drew
Seven thousand slain men’s corpses, and forth of the palace threw.
Afront of the steps they hurled them adown to the court below.
Then wailed from the friends of the slaughtered lamentation and mourning and woe.
There was many a man among them whose hurts were not so sore,
But that soon, had he gentle tendance, he were whole again as before,
Who yet found death all swiftly, hurled from that cruel height.
Loudly their kin lamented who saw that pitiful sight.
Then shouted the viol-minstrel, the champion dauntless-souled:
“Now well do I see how truly the tale unto me was told
{p. 276}
That this is a land of cravens: like women they wail, these Huns,
They who should now be tending the battle-stricken ones!”
Then it seemed to a lord of the marches that he spake not in scoffing mood;
And that same lord had a kinsman there fallen in his blood;
And he thought from the carnage to bear him, and his arms around him he threw;
But the minstrel with a javelin hurled at him, and slew.
Then back from the stairway fled they who in hope had been drawing near,
Cursing the viol-minstrel in the impotent fury of fear.
Then caught up Volker a javelin, stubborn-shafted and keen:
Shot by one of the Hunfolk against himself had it been.
Across the court he sped it, putting his might to the cast,
That it flew o’er their heads fierce-singing; and Etzel’s men were aghast,
As he warned them to safer standing, from the hall-door far away.
At his matchless might all people were thrilled with sore dismay.
Before that hall with Etzel in thousands the Hunfolk stood.
And now did Volker and Hagen in scornful-reckless mood
Set them to gall the Hun-king, and with bitter taunts to defy.
Ere long grim retribution on the heroes came thereby.
“It were well,” cried Hagen, “to hearten the folk in the evil day,
That t............