That drenched were the saddle-housings with foam-flakes and with sweat
From the goodly chargers dripping, as in gentle and joyous sport
The heroes against the Hunfolk matched them in chivalrous sort.
Then the noble viol-minstrel, Volker the aweless, said:
“I trow these knights be faint-hearts; to meet us fairly they dread.
Yet hear I talk of their hatred, how bitter against us it is.
Sooth, never a better season may they find to prove it than this!
Now once more unto the stables,” again Lord Volker cried,
“Let the squires lead back the horses. Peradventure again will we ride
When draweth the day unto even, if haply the time suffice.