And Dankwart and Volker the minstrel, the knights of fame far-sung,
Unto that place went together where those dead twain were found,
And sorely wept and lamented those heroes song-renowned.
“Evilly death hath robbed us!” cried the young Prince Giselher:
“Yet now refrain your weeping: let us forth to the outer air;
Let us cool these reeking hauberks, O battle-weary thanes.
Unto us, I ween, God willeth that but little of life remains.”
Sitting was one, one leaning against the stairway-wall;
But again their hands were idle, for Rüdiger’s liegemen all
Lay dead within: the tumult of war had fallen asleep.