As slowly he threaded the tangle: his strong hands gripped straightway
And cast it to earth unwounded, and swiftly bound the prey.
Fangs, claws were all unavailing against his masterful might:
Fast to the saddle he lashed it; then mounted the gallant knight,
And on to the place of the camp-fire he bare it triumphant-souled
To make sport for his hunting-fellows, that goodly thane and bold.
Ha, in what lordly splendour he rode amidst the throng,
With the mighty hunting-javelin, of the keen broad blade and long,
With the goodly battle-broadsword that low as his spur-tip hung,
With the ruddy golden bugle from the hero’s baldric slung!