He turned him about, and at Volker he looked in amazement back—
“Woe’s me for the guests I have harboured! O day of sorrow and bane
Wherein beneath their prowess all these my knights fall slain!
Woe’s me for my festal high-tide!” that king of nations said:
“Within there fighteth a warrior, Volker, a name of dread.
Like some wild boar he rageth—and a minstrel him they name!
Thank Heaven that safe from the talons of this foul fiend I came!
Doom rings and sings in his measures, red are the strokes of his bow;
In his notes I hear the death-knell of many a knight laid low.
What hath the viol-minstrel against us know I not.