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 ............