That stroke did the aweless minstrel so fiercely, so swiftly repay,
That the sword-smitten harness of Wolfhart was a fountain of fiery spray.
From the hauberks, as they hewed them, did the lightning-flashes flare:
Grim was the hate these foemen each unto other bare!
Yet these twain Wolfwein parted, and he fronted Volker alone:
Had he not been a very hero, such deed he had never done!
Gunther the valiant war-king, with never-resting hand
Faced the far-famous heroes, the knights of Amelung-land;
And Giselher, princely champion, lashed at the helmets bright
Till crimson they showed and dripping with blood in the storm of fight.