All of them were faithful, but yet were weeping sore;
They feared the hate of Ludwig, and ills for them in store.
That they could send no others they were deeply mourning;
And all were sadly thinking, “No one now can death from them be turning.”
[1164]
All day they talked together; it now was near its end:
The sun, that low was sinking, thro’ clouds its beams did send:
Erelong it sank o’er Gulstred, and there at last was hidden.
Ortwin and Herwic tarried, that night to go, by the waning light forbidden.
