’Tis no matter of yours, and man cannot do it,
But me and me only, to measure his strength with
The monster of malice, might-deeds to ’complish.
I with prowess shall gain the gold, or the battle,
Direful death-woe will drag off your ruler!”
The mighty champion rose by his shield then,
Brave under helmet, in battle-mail went he
’Neath steep-rising stone-cliffs, the strength he relied on
Of one man alone: no work for a coward.
Then he saw by the wall who a great many battles