The sparks of a burning forest. Then Hawart’s liegeman true
Gat from the sword of Hagen a wound that bit to the brain
Crashing through buckler and helmet—he was never whole again.
When ware was the good knight Iring of the bite of the sword-edge keen,
Higher he swung his buckler his rifted helm to screen.
He weened that in that grim sword-gash he had gotten scathe enow;
But Gunther’s liegeman dealt him a yet more deadly blow:
For Hagen caught at a javelin that lay at his feet on the ground;
At the Daneland hero he hurled it, and his shieldless face it found,
And lo, the quivering spear-shaft stood out from his head behind.