Wounded, too, was Irold, Ortland’s champion brave

Wounded, too, was Irold, Ortland’s champion brave. Though many there lay dying from the wounds that Hagen gave, Yet the blows of Wâ-te still did Hagen batter. Sorely wept the maidens when of so many swords they heard the clatter.

Now, in fear and sorrow, Hilda, the maiden fair, Cried unto King Hettel, and begged of him to spare Her father from old Wâ-te, the fight so grimly waging. He called for his standard-bearer, and bade him lead his men where the strife was raging.

Then the kingly Hettel right well and bravely fought; Soon he found old Wâ-te, to whom no joy it brought: Then Hettel called to Hagen: “Let hatred hence be driven; So shall it raise your honor, if now our friends no more to death be given.”

Hagen shouted loudly,— fell indeed was his mood,— “Who bids that we be parted?” Then cried the warrior good: “I bid it, I, King Hettel, the Hegelings’ lord and master, Who for the Lady Hilda sent my friends so far, from you to wrest her.”

Then spake the lordly Hagen: “Since first to me ’twas told How you to win my daughter showed yourself so bold, This to your name with warriors shame has ne’er been doing; Clever was the cunning to which your winning of my child is owing.”

Hettel then sprang nearer, as oft by one is done, Who thinks to stop the fighting. Grim was the mood yet shown By the bold and aged Wâ-te; but he and Hagen yielded: Then with all his followers Hagen stepped back, nor longer his weapon wielded.

Now the lordly Hettel his helmet laid aside; A truce was loudly called for by all, both far and wide; ’Twas said by Hilda’s father there was an end of fighting: For many a day, the maidens had heard no tale their ears so much delighting.

The men took off the armor which they in fight had worn, And now at last they rested. Many then must mourn For wounds, in warfare given, whence the blood was welling; But many lay there also who never more on thoughts of war were dwelling.

Then stepped forth King Hettel and near to Hagen stood, And thus he spake to the warrior: “Since I well have wooed Your lovely daughter Hilda, ’tis fit that you allow her To wear the crown beside me: my many well-bred knights will fealty show her.”

Then Hettel sent for Wâ-te, of whom he was in need; For many years now ended, of him it had been said That he from some wild woman had learned a leech’s cunning: Wâ-te, forsooth, was skilful to heal deep wounds and stanch the life-blood running.

Wâ-te laid by his weapons; his wounds he first had bound. Herbs that were good for healing by him were quickly found; He had a box full costly, that in it held a plaster. Now the fair Queen Hilda besought his help, and at his feet she cast her.

She said, “My dear friend Wâ-te, my father heal, I pray; For this, whate’er you ask me, I ne’er will say you nay; And help his warriors also, who in the dust lie bleeding, And show your skill to his liegemen who stood by him, when he their help was needing.

“Nor must you be forgetful of those of the Hegeling land, Who were friends to Hettel; wet with their blood is the sand On which they now are lying, as if a rain were falling: Sorrowful tales of their fighting for me there ne’er can be an end of telling.”

Then spake the aged Wâ-te: “Their wounds I cannot heal,— In that I will not meddle, until as friends they feel Each unto the other,— Hagen brave and knightly, And Hettel, my lord and master; till then shall I withhold my skill most rightly.”

The high-born maiden answered: “This I may not dare To ask of the king, my father; his tears I did not spare, And now have not the boldness to bring to him my greeting; Both he and all his kinsmen I fear would now my love with scorn be meeting.”

Then ’twas asked of Hagen: “My lord, may this now be, That it would not stir your anger your daughter here to see, The youthful, queenly Hilda? If you for this are willing, She will come most gladly, and soon your many wounds will help in healing.”

“Gladly will I see her, whatever she has done; To me will she be welcome: why should I her disown, Here in a land of foemen, nor take her greeting kindly? To me and to my daughter, King Hettel must atone for deeds unfriendly.”

Horant, the knight from Daneland, led her by the hand, And with him went brave Fru-te, to where the king did stand; One maiden only with them looked on Hagen wounded. For friends did Hilda sorrow, though Hettel’s love for her was all unbounded.

On Hildeburg and Hilda when Hagen now did look, Then, from his seat upspringing, thus he quickly spoke: “Welcome be thou, my daughter, Hilda, most noble lady! I cannot leave unspoken the greeting warm which I to give am ready.”

His daughter he allowed not the care of his wounds to take; While Wâ-te these was binding he bade the maids step back,— The youthful high-born ladies. Wâ-te’s wish was the stronger To heal her father quickly, that so his daughter there might weep no longer.

Healed with plants and herbage and many a far-sought weed, From all his pain did Hagen feel himself now freed; They eased his hurts with plaster, and when again the maiden Turned to see her father, she found him well, with aches no longer laden.

Wâ-te, the healing-master, made haste,—no time he lost; He hoped to gain such riches among this wounded host, That scarce could they by camels be carried to his dwelling. A skill so great and wondrous never, that I have heard, have men been telling.

First he healed King Hettel, the lord of the Hegeling land; Then all he saw there wounded he helped by his skilful hand. Those in the care of others still with pain did sicken; But they, when nursed by Wâ-te, were turned to life, tho’ they by death were stricken.

There would they no longer let the maidens stay. Hagen said to Hilda: “Elsewhere must we to-day Find us rest and shelter; while others must not idly Leave the dead thus lying, who burial scarce can wait, here scattered widely.”