In glory rose the Goths' bright star--
In glory shall it fall!
Our swords raised high, we fight for fame;
Heroes with heroes vie;
Farewell, thou noble hero-race--
Up, Goths, and let us die!"
And he shattered the still vibrating harp upon the rocks at his feet.
"And now, Adalgoth, farewell! Would that I could have saved the rest of my people! Not here; but by an unobstructed retreat to the north. It was not to be. Narses would never grant it, and the last of the Goths cannot beg. Now let us go--to death!"
And raising his dreaded weapon, the mighty battleaxe with its lance-like shaft, he stepped to the head of the "wedge," Behind him Aligern, his cousin, and old Hildebrand. Behind them Duke Guntharis of Tuscany, the Wölfung, Earl Grippa of Ravenna, and Earl Wisand of Volsinii, the standard-bearer. Behind them again, Wisand's brother, Ragnaris of Tarentum, and four earls, his kinsmen. Then, in ever-broadening front, first six, then ten Goths. The rear was formed of close ranks, arranged by tens.
Wachis, halting in the pass near Adalgoth, blew, at a sign from the King, a signal on the Gothic war-horn, and the assaulting force marched out of the ravine.