No knightly blow hath he stricken in this war-storm with his sword.
Meseemeth he recketh little what here unto us may betide,
So himself be full of substance and his greed be satisfied.
Men vaunt him a champion braver than any in all our array:
Little enow hath he proved it in this our evil day!”
In sorrow and wrath the hero, the man of the loyal heart,
Glared on the Hunnish mocker who hurled that slander-dart.
He thought: “For this thou payest! A craven am I, saidst thou?
In the presence of kings too loudly hast thou told thy story now!”
He clenched his fist in his anger; full on the scoffer he ran,