Then wrath could ne’er be greater than that of Giselher.
2045
“Now, by the Lord! Sir Iring,” cried Giselher the lad,
“For these thou needs must pay me who lie before thee dead—
By thee this moment slaughter’d;” then ran on him straightway
And smote the knight of Denmark so that he needs must stay.
2046
Beneath his hands succumbing down fell he in the blood;
And all were well persuaded that now the hero good
Ne’er more would wield a weapon in battle anywhere:
Yet Iring lay unwounded in front of Giselher.
2047
From blows upon the helmet and clashing of the sword
His wits were sorely stricken and scatter’d all abroad,
So that the gallant warrior of life took no more thought:
This by his strength of body bold Giselher had wrought.
2048
When from his head the numbness at last began to go,
Which had erstwhile come on him from that o’erwhelming blow,
Thought he: “I still am living, nor wounded anywhere;
Now know I for the first time the strength of Giselher.”
2049
On one side and the other his enemies heard he;
Were they his case aware of the worse for him ’twould be;
And likewise had he noted that Giselher was by:
He ponder’d how ’twas likely he might these foemen fly.
2050
How madly then upsprang he from out that bloody stew!
Unto his ready fleetness his thanks were surely due.
Out of the place forth rush’d he, but there saw Hagen stand,
And smote upon him swiftly with all his might of hand.
2051
Then to himself thought Hagen: “Death thee for this must have!
Unless the devil help thee, thyself thou canst not save.”
Yet Iring through the helmet a wound on Hagen made:
This did the knight with Vaske, that was so good a blade.
2052
No sooner felt Sir Hagen the smarting of the wound
Than terribly his weapon he whirl’d in hand around.
Forthwith must Haward’s liegeman for safety flee again,
And Hagen down the stairway to follow him was fain.
2053
Above his head bold Iring his shield made haste to lean;
And if that self-same stairway yet thrice its length had been,
Hagen had ne’er allow’d him to deal a single stroke.
Ay me! the sparks so ruddy that from his helmet broke!
2054
Yet back unto his people Iring in safety won.
Then soon unto Kriemhilda the tidings were made known
How he had wrought in battle on Hagen of Tronjé;
For which her thanks right hearty the queen began to say:
2055
“Now God reward thee, Iring, a hero good thou art;
Much hast thou me encouraged and comforted my heart.
Lo, now on Hagen’s raiment all red with blood I look!”
With her own hand Kriemhilda his shield, in kindness, took.
2056
“So much you need not thank him,” quoth Hagen; “if again
With me he’d try his fortune, it would beseem the thane.
If ever thence return’d he, a valiant man he’d be!
The wound will serve you little that he hath given to me.
2057
“That you have seen my hauberk by blood of mine made red,
Unto the death of many hath me embitteréd.
Against that liege of Haward’s I have the utmost wrath;—
Albeit the warrior Iring hath done me little scathe.”
2058
Meanwhile the man of Denmark into the wind had gone
To cool him in his hauberk— his helmet off was done.
And all the folk were saying his prowess was right good;
Whereby they made the margrave exceeding bold of mood.
2059
Then presently spake Iring: “My friends, now mark ye well
That ye must arm me quickly: I’ll try another spell,
If that o’erbearing tyrant I yet may bring to book.”
His shield was hack’d to pieces: a better one he took.
2060
Full speedily the warrior was better arm’d than e’er;
A javelin right sturdy with hate in heart he bare,
Wherewith once more with Hagen he purposed there to fight:
With foe-like mien awaited for him that murderous wight.
2061
But brook’d not the thane Hagen to stay for his advance;—
He ran full speed towards him, with blows of sword and lance,
Until he reach’d the stairs’ foot: his wrath was fierce and dread,
And all the strength of Iring stood him in little stead.
2062
They slash’d right through the bucklers, till each of them began
With ruddy fire to sparkle. And ere long Haward’s man
By the broadsword of Hagen was desperately smit
Through shield and armour: never mote he get well of it.
2063
When that the chieftain Iring was of the wound aware,
His shield unto his helm-band he raised, to rest it there.
He thought that with this damage he now had got his fill:
The liegeman of King Gunther had more to give him still.
2064
Before his feet did Hagen a javelin espy;
And with it straight at Iring, the Danish chief, let fly—
So well, that from his forehead the shaft thereof stuck out.
For him the warrior Hagen a cruel end had wrought.
2065
Iring must needs betake him the Danish folk unto;
But ere they loosed the helmet from off the chief, they drew
Out from his head the lance-shaft; then death to him came nigh.
His kinsfolk all were wailing: well might they, verily.
2066
Then came the queen towards him, and over him she leant,
And for the stalwart Iring gave to her sorrow vent;
She wept, his wounds beholding, and bitter was her grief.
Then spake unto his kinsmen that brave and gallant chief:
2067
“I pray thee stint thy weeping, most noble lady mine,
For what avails thy sorrow? I must my life resign
Because of wounds and damage that have been dealt on me.
No more will death allow me Etzel to serve and thee.”
2068
Then unto the Thuringians and to the Danes he spake:
“The gifts that ye were promised no hand of yours shall take
From yonder royal lady— her ruddy gold so bright!
Death’s visage must ye look on, if ye with Hagen fight.”
2069
All pallid was his colour, the seal of death he bore—
The ever-valiant Iring— to them ’twas sorrow sore.
For Haward’s gallant liegeman there was no hope of life:
And so the men of Denmark must forward go to strife.
2070
Irnfried as well as Haward sprang forth the hall before
With warriors a thousand; a horrible uproar
On every side resounded, mighty and clamouring.
And ah, at the Burgundians what lances sharp they fling!
2071
And then the gallant Irnfried straight for the minstrel made,
At whose right hand redoubted great injury he had.
For lo, the noble fiddler the landgrave sore did smite
Through firmly-fasten’d helmet: he was a grewsome wight!
2072
And thereupon Sir Irnfried the valiant minstrel smote
Till rents perforce were riven across his ring-wrought coat,
And all his breastplate quiver’d with sparks of fiery red;
Albeit fell the landgrave before the fiddler dead.
2073
Anon were met together Haward and Hagen bold,
I wot that whoso saw them a marvel might behold!
From hand of either hero the sword-strokes follow’d free;
Foredoom’d to die was Haward by him of Burgundy.
2074
When Danesmen and Thuringians their leaders saw in death,
Then rose a frightful struggle the palace walls beneath,
Or ever they the gateway by might
