Slain was his hero-brother, himself had a grievous wound:
Full eighty of his war-thanes already were stretched on the ground
A prey unto death the relentless: of need must the princely knight
Flee from the men of Gunther in headlong-hasty flight.
As the men of the land Bavarian fled from the face of their foes,
Ringing and clanging behind them ever echoed the dread death-blows,
As the vassals of Troneg’s hero held them close in chase.
Whoso would ’scape, small respite had he in that terrible race!
But amidst of pursuit and slaughter, to the rest cried Dankwart the thane:
“Halt! on the path of our journey backward turn we the rein.