The shards of the lances upsoaring to the roof of the palace-hall.
And the earls and the high-born ladies sat throned beholding all.
Then the King bade stay the combat, and they led the war-steeds thence,
From the field wide-strewn with the strong shields, the brave heart’s rifted fence,
Strewn with the costly gemstones wherewith was the grass bestarred
From the glittering shield-bands fallen in the grapple bitter-hard.
Then sat those guests in the feast-hall in their own ordained high-seats;
And the war-toil’s ache was banished like a dream by the goodly meats
And the wines of noble vintage that flowed as a fountain free.
There homeland guest and stranger had honour plenteously.