Making the blood, like tear-drops, on Hagen’s breast to flow;
Strokes he gave his foeman, until the sword-blade glittered
On the bosses of his helmet; daylight before his darkened eyesight flittered.
[520]
Wounded, too, was Irold, Ortland’s champion brave.
Though many there lay dying from the wounds that Hagen gave,
Yet the blows of Wâ-te still did Hagen batter.
Sorely wept the maidens when of so many swords they heard the clatter.
[521]
Now, in fear and sorrow, Hilda, the maiden fair,