Even as this day battle those true men, even my lords:
They hew the helmets asunder, blood flieth to meet their swords.”
No battle-blencher was Etzel: he grasped in wrath and pride
His shield—“Risk not at their bidding thine own life!” Kriemhild cried.
“Nay, offer thy shield gold-brimming for a champion of thy war-band.
If thou close with yonder Hagen, death standeth at thy right hand.”
Yet the King was a knight so fearless that he would not refrain from the strife—
Sooth, now such mighty princes more dearly tender their life!—
Their lord from the fray by his shield-band his servants needs must hale.
Then with grim laughter Hagen again at the King ’gan rail: