2084.
Thereon with furious onslaught the strangers were attack’d.
And Dankwart, Hagen’s brother, a man right swift to act,
Sprang from his lords, the foemen before the door to rout;—
It seem’d that he must perish, but safely gat he out.
2085.
The deadly struggle lasted till stay’d it was by night.
As well became good heroes, the guests maintain’d the fight
Against the men of Etzel one whole long summer day.
And ah, what gallant warriors about them dying lay!
2086.
’Twas at the summer solstice this slaughter great befell,
Whereby the Dame Kriemhilda avenged her heart-ache well
Upon her nearest kinsfolk and many another wight.
From that time royal Etzel knew nevermore delight.
2087.
The day for them was ended in great anxiety.
It seem’d to them ’twere better a speedy death to die,
Than linger there, awaiting some dread, unheard-of pain.
Therefore the haughty warriors to beg a truce were fain.
2088.
The king, by word, besought they to come unto them there.
These heroes, blood-bespatter’d and soil’d with armour-wear,
From out the palace follow’d the noble kings all three;
They knew not to what hearer to plead their misery.
2089.
Both Etzel and Kriemhilda came thither them before.
The land was their possession: their host grew more and more.
The king spake to the strangers: “Say, what will ye of me?
A truce ye would be granted? Such thing can hardly be
