1934.
Ere yet the king had heard it— urg’d by the hate they bore—
The Hunfolk donn’d their armour; two thousand men or more.
And march’d against the yeomen;— what else was to be done?
And out of all the people they left alive not one.
1935-
Before the house the traitors had led a mighty host;
On guard the foreign yeomen stood bravely at their post.
But what avail’d their valour? They all were doom’d to die;
And presently arose there a gruesome butchery.
1936.
And here ye must a marvel of monstrous import hear:
Nine thousand yeomen lying all done to death there were;
A dozen knights moreover of Dankwart’s own command.
One saw him all-forsaken amidst the foemen stand.
1937.
The uproar was abated, the clash of arms was o’er.
Then look’d athwart his shoulder Dankwart the warrior;
He spake: “Woe for the comrades who from my side are gone!
Alas, that ’midst the foemen I now must stand alone!”
1938.
Upon his body shower’d the sword-strokes keen and rife;—
Ere long to be bewailéd by many a hero’s wife—.
His shield aloft he lifted, and held the arm-brace low;
And drench’d full many a hauberk with life-blood’s crimson flow.
1939.
Then cried the son of Aldrian: “Woe for the ills I bear!
Make way, ye Hunnish warriors, and let me to the air,
That the wind’s breath may cool me, a battle-weary wight!”
Right royally he bore him in all the people’s sight.
