How Sir Dietrich's Men Were All Slain, XXXVI–LXX

Straight replied the minstrel, "Sir knight, howe'er you may Put my strings out of order and spoil my viol's play, This hand shall first dim sadly our helmets brilliancy, However chance may bring me back to fair Burgundy."

With that the furious Wolfhart had leapt upon him fain, But Hildebrand, his uncle, still held him back amain. "Thy silly rage would drive thee, I ween, to draw the sword, And so thou'dst lose forever the favor of my lord."

"Let loose the lion, master, that storms so fierce and proud. If I can only reach him," the minstrel shouted loud, "Though all the world together his prowess may have slain, I'll strike him such a swordstroke, he'll ne'er reply again."

By this the Berner's fury was kindled to the height. His shield at once before him held Wolfhart the swift knight. Forward, like a wild lion, he darted to th' attack. A crowd of nimble followers cluster'd at his back.

But swift as was the warrior, and swift as was his band, First at the foot of the staircase was aged Hildebrand. None would he have before him where'er a field was fought. Soon among the strangers found they what they sought.

Straight upon Sir Hagan leapt Master Hildebrand; The sword you might hear clatter in either champion's hand. Well might you note their fury by many a sturdy stroke. From their clashing broadswords a fire-red blast there broke.

Soon were they swept asunder by th' heady stream of fight; 'Twas done by the fierce Berners hurtling in their might. So from grim Sir Hagan turn'd off that aged man. Wolfhart meanwhile in fury at valiant Folker ran.

On the good helm the minstrel he smote with fell intent, So that the edge, descending, e'en to the beaver went. That stroke the forceful gleeman repaid with such a blow, As sent the sturdy Wolfhart tottering to and fro.

They clash'd, that from the hauberks sparks were seen to start, Either bore the other deadly hate at heart. A Berner then, Sir Wolfwine, parted that stormy fight. Who on such deed could venture, was sure a prowest knight.

The noble king, Sir Gunther, with frank and willing hand Met the renowned champions of th' Amelungers' land. Then, too, the good Sir Giselher himself so knightly bore, That he made the polish'd morions red and wet with gore.

Dankwart, Hagan's brother, was a champion grim. Whate'er on Etzel's meiny had late been wrought by him, A puff was to the tempest that now to rise began; So furiously did battle the son of Aldrian.

Ritschart as well as Gerbart, Helfrich and Wichart, too, Spared themselves but seldom with bloody work to do; This in the fierce hurly to Gunther's men they show'd. Into the strife Sir Wolfbrand like a noble warrior strode.

Then, as though he were frantic, fought aged Hildebrand. Many a good knight, o'ermaster'd by Wolfhart's stalwart hand Into the blood, death-stricken, beneath his broadsword fell. Thus the bold knights of Dietrich reveng'd the margrave well.

Then, as his courage mov'd him, the good Sir Siegstab strove; Ah! how the glittering morions of his stern foes he clove In that tempestuous conflict, Sir Dietrich's sister's son! Amidst the storm of battle ne'er had he better done.

The valiant minstrel Folker, soon as he espied A bloody brook forth gushing as Siegstab fiercely plied His sword upon the hauberks, in a storm of rage was tossed; Furious he leapt upon him; at once Sir Siegstab lost

His life by that stern minstrel, who, to the warrior's ill, Proof gave him so resistless of his surpassing skill, That at a stroke before him down fell dead the knight. Him straight revenged Sir Hildebrand, as well beseem'd his might.

"Ah, my dear lord!" in anguish cried Master Hildebrand, "Dost thou then here lie lifeless by Folker's bloody hand? But hence, be sure, shall never this minstrel scathless go." However could noble Hildebrand rush fiercer on a foe?

At once so smote he Folker with weapon sharp and true, That to the walls on all sides a shower of shivers flew From helm and eke from buckler like chaff before the blast. Thereby the sturdy Folker came to his end at last.

At that, the men of Dietrich rush'd on from every side. They slash'd, that links of hauberk went whirling far and wide, And the snapp'd sword-points flicker'd with momentary gleam; They drew from out the morions the smoking bloody stream.

Soon Hagan spied Sir Folker dead on the reeking floor; Ne'er had he felt such anguish throughout the feast before For kinsman lost or liegeman, as then his bosom shook. Alas! for his slain comrade what dire revenge he took!

"Ne'er from me shall scathless go aged Hildebrand. My helpmate lies before me, slain by the hero's hand. Never had I comrade so valiant and so true." He rais'd his shield, and forward slashing and hewing flew.

Just then the stalwart Helfrich slew Dankwart the good knight; Gunther as well as Giselher, woe were they at the sight, When down he fell, and, writhing, out panted his last breath. He with his sword beforehand had well reveng'd his death.

What crowds soe'er had thither muster'd from many a land, Beneath right puissant princes against their little band, Weren't not that Christian people conspir'd to work their fall, Their prowess well had kept them against the heathens all.

Meanwhile redoubted Wolfhart rush'd fiercely to and fro, King Gunther's men down hewing with oft-repeated blow. Thrice through that place of slaughter he cut his bloody way. Before, behind, around him the dead and dying lay.

With that, the young Sir Giselher to the stern warrior cried, "Woe's me that I should ever so fierce a foe abide! Noble knight and fearless, turn thee now to me. I'll help to end this matter; it must no longer be."

Wolfhart turn'd on Giselher soon as thus defied; Each in that grim battle wounds cut gaping wide. Upon the king fierce rushing so forcefully he sped, The blood beneath his trampling flew high above his head.

The bold son of fair Uta with many a rapid blow Received the furious onset of his redoubted foe; Huge as was Wolfhart's puissance, boot it none could bring. Ne'er was so brave a battle fought by so young a king.

At last through the good hauberk he smote Sir Dietrich's man, That the blood, out-spurting, down in a torrent ran. So to the death he wounded that high o'erweening one. 'Twas sure a peerless champion who such a deed had done.

Soon as fearless Wolfhart felt the deadly pain, Down he dropp'd his buckler; with fierce hand amain His huge sharp-cutting broadsword higher he heav'd in air; Through helm at once and hauberk then smote he Giselher.

So they one another both of their lives bereft. Now of all Dietrich's liegemen not a soul was left. Hildebrand, the aged, dead saw Wolfhart fall; Among his long life's sorrows that was the worst of all.

There in that hall of slaughter dead lay King Gunther's train, Dead too the men of Dietrich. Sir Hildebrand amain Ran where redoubted Wolfhart fall'n in the blood he found, And cast his arms about him to lift him from the ground.

He drove his dying nephew forth from the house to bear, But found his weight too mighty; he needs must leave him there. Then from the blood the wounded a clouded glance upcast; He saw that fain his uncle had help'd him at the last.

Then spake the fainting warrior, "Dear uncle, kind and true, No more can it avail me whatever you can do. But Oh! beware of Hagan; this seems me good to tell. Heart had never champion so furious and so fell.

"And if my loving kinsmen would sorrow o'er my clay, This to the best and nearest, dear uncle, of me say, That I need no lamenting, that tears were better dried, That 'twas a king that slew me, and gloriously I died.

"Besides, in this wild slaughter I've sold my life so dear, That many a knight's pale lady 'twill cost full many a tear. If any ask the question, straight let the truth be shown. Here lie at least a hundred slain by this hand alone."