On the bed then he found, in frightful state lying,
His gold-giver ghastly; gone was his spirit,
280 No life in him lingered. The liegeman straight fell.
Trembling with terror, he tore at his hair,
He clawed at his clothes; he clamored despairing,
And to the waiting warriors these words he said,
As they stood outside in sadness and fear:
285 “Here is made manifest our imminent doom,
Is clearly betokened that the time is near,
Pressing upon us with perils and woes,