Then up and down the feast-hall he raged, till his hands had slain
Full many a knight of Etzel, to sate his murder-lust:
Many an earl in the palace through the gates of death he thrust.
Volker the battle-eager from his place at the table sprang;
His viol-bow now was his war-glaive, and loud in the hands it rang
Of that viol-minstrel of Gunther: a music of death did he wake:
Many a foe mid the Hunfolk for kinsmen slain did he make.
Leapt up withal from the table the noble Princes three:
They would fain have parted the fighters, ere wilder the work should be,
But all in vain was their prudence, and nothing availed their might;