1940.
But when the strife-worn hero outside the hostel sprang,
What fresh swords on his helmet again and ever rang!
They who had not yet witness’d what wonders wrought his hand,
Now rush’d to meet the warrior from the Burgundian land.
1941.
“Now would to God,” cried Dankwart, “I had a messenger
To seek my brother Hagen, and make him well aware
How I amid these warriors so sorely am bested!
Hence surely would he help me, or lie beside me dead!”
1942.
Then spake the Hunnish warriors: “That herald must thou be,
When we before thy brother a corse shall carry thee!
So first shall Gunther’s henchman what sorrow is be taught:
Thou hast unto King Etzel such grievous damage wrought.”
1943.
Said he: “Now stint your threatenings, and further backwards get,
Or verily I’ll drench you some other hauberks yet!
I will myself the story before the court lay bare,
And eke unto my masters my grievance great declare.”
1944.
He laid on Etzel’s liegemen so heavily his hand,
That not a man amongst them durst him with sword withstand.
Yet in his shield their lances so quickly did they aim,
That he was fain to drop it, so heavy it became.
1945.
Him, now no longer shielded, they thought to overwhelm;
Ha, but what deadly gashes he cut right through the helm!
Until before him stagger’d full many a valiant one.
Whereby much praise and honour the gallant Dankwart won.
