The tears ran down the faces of Dietrich’s valiant men,
And the drops on the beards of them glistened: sore grief was their portion then.
Siegstab the Bernese war-duke lamented over his friend:
“Woe’s me for the lovingkindness that here hath found an end,
The kindness that Rüdiger showed us in the days of our exile-pain!
The comfort of all the homeless lieth by you knights slain!”
Then did a man of the Amals, the war-thane Wolfwein, cry:
“Though I saw my very father here dead before me lie,
I were not more sorrow-stricken than for Rüdiger laid low.
Alas! who now shall comfort the Margravine in her woe?”