Swift glanced he around, as thinking to find there bow or sword—
Good sooth, he had dealt unto Hagen a richly-earned reward!
But now when the deadly-wounded might nowhere find his brand,
No weapon save only his buckler lay ready there to his hand:
That snatched he up from the well-side, and in chase of the murderer ran.
Full soon was the fleeing Hagen outrun by the dying man.
Albeit to death he was stricken, he smote with such mighty power
That out of the shield-face started and fell to earth in a shower
The costly gemstones: rifted was the very buckler’s rim—
Grim earnest of what stern vengeance he fain would have wreaked upon him!