No whit more there would he linger: unto madness of fury wrought
He leapt on the guests Burgundian like a knightly battle-lord.
Fast, fast the strokes down-lightened from the mighty Margrave’s sword.
Twain, even Volker and Hagen, aside from his path withdrew,
According as these two champions erewhile had pledged them to do.
Yet dauntless foes so many by the gate-tower fronted him
That the Margrave in that first onset knew well that his peril was grim.
Gunther and Gernot, for slaughter athirst, let him win his way
Into the hall: like heroes eager they were for the fray.
But Giselher shrank from his coming, for his heart was wrung with pain;