High in hand their weapons Hettel and Ludwig bore

High in hand their weapons Hettel and Ludwig bore,— Well had they been sharpened. Soon each knew the more Who was now his foeman, such strength they both were showing. Ludwig slew King Hettel; and out of this our mournful tale is growing.

When the lord of Matelan upon the field lay slain, Soon ’twas told to his daughter: loudly then began Gu-drun to mourn her father, so did many a maiden; Not one could stop her wailing: friends and foes alike were sorrow-laden.

Soon as the grim old Wâ-te the death of the king did know, He cried and roared in anger. Like to the evening glow, Now were helmets blazing, beneath the strokes quick given By him and all his followers, who by their loss were unto madness driven.

However hard their fighting, how could it bring them good? Drenched was all the island with many knights’ hot blood. Not yet the Hegeling warriors to think of peace were ready; Away from the Wulpensand they only wished to bring Gu-drun, their lady.

In stormy fight the Waal men bewreked the death of the king; To many a fighting Ortlander and hard-pressed Hegeling Those who came from Denmark of friendship gave a token: Soon these knights so daring found in their hands their trusty weapons broken.

Now to avenge his father Ortwin bravely strove: Faithful to him did Horant and all his followers prove. Night the field had darkened, the light of day was failing; Then were given to many wounds from which the life-blood fast was welling.

Soon, in the dark, on Horant a Danish follower sprang; The sword that he was holding loud on the armor rang: Thinking he was a foeman, Horant at once upon him Wrought most bitter sorrow: a deadly wound by that warrior brave was done him.

When Horant saw that his kinsman beneath his blow lay dead, Then he bade that his banner be borne with his own o’erhead. The voice of him who was dying told whose life he had taken With his hand so rashly; sorely he mourned the friend who never would waken.

Loudly called out Herwic: “Murder here is done! Since we can see no longer, and daylight now is gone, We all shall kill each other, friends and foes together. If this shall last till morning, two may be left to fight, but not another.”

Where’er they saw old Wâ-te on the stormy fighting-ground, No one there was willing near him to be found; No welcome, in his madness, was he to any giving: Many a foe he wounded, and laid on the spot that he would ne’er be leaving.

’Twas well the foes were sundered until the break of day; On either side the foemen near each other lay, Wounded to death or slaughtered. Fast the light was waning, Not yet the moon was risen, and the Hegeling foe the field were nowhere gaining.