Rudolph—The Weser rolls down bodies to the sea;
Their yellow hair is matted in the Rhine;
The deer that drinks the Aller in the night
Starts back from bloody faces in the stream.
They are our fathers, Fritz, who cannot sleep
While this coiled Hunger tracks us toward the north.
Fritz—And we must feed it, eh? We must grub roots,
Fatten ourselves on acorns in the wood,
As swine do, and then waddle to the swamp
And stuff its belly so that it will sleep
And trouble us no more, we must do that?
Rudolph—No; we must leave, and starve it.
Fritz— It don't starve.
More hunger means more flesh. Let's feed it steel.
Rudolph—Steel draws the blood and brings the hunger on.
Fritz—Then draw the life. We don't feed it enough.
Rudolph—It eats the blade—
Fritz— Then feed it hilt and all.
Rudolph—It eats our swords and they come out in claws.
As Canzler says, a thousand spears have but
Peeled off its poisonous scales, and where they fall
A deadly fire burns and the elves die.
Fritz—We will call Wittikind.