Well in the fight he bore it, and strength enough did wield.
Ne’er on the field of warfare did blows of men fall thicker,
Even of bravest warriors; Wâ-te scorned to flinch, or seem the worker.
[518]
Hagen cleft the head-piece of Hettel’s brave old man,
The trusty, daring Wâ-te, till blood from his helmet ran,
From out his wounds fast flowing. Now the wind blew colder,
For eventide was nearing; the struggling throng in fight but grew the bolder.
[519]
Wâ-te gave back in anger each grim and deadly blow,