XIII
A stout dwarf was Albric, and bold as well as stout;
With helm and mail securely he was arm'd throughout;
A golden scourge full heavy in his hand he swung.
Straight ran he to the rescue, and fierce on Siegfried sprung.
XIV
Seven ponderous knobs from th' handle hung, each one by its thong;
With these the dwarf kept pounding so sturdy and so strong,
That he split the shield of Siegfried to the centre from the rim,
And put the dauntless champion in care for life or limb.
XV
Away he threw his buckler broken all and smash'd;
His long well-temper'd weapon into its sheath he dash'd,
To spare his own dependents his virtue mov'd him still,
And to his heart sore went it his chamberlain to kill.
XVI
With mighty hands undaunted in on the dwarf he ran;
By the beard he caught him, that age-hoary man,
He dragg'd him, and he shook him, his rage on him he wreak'd,
And handled him so roughly, that loud for pain he shriek'd.
XVII
Loud cries the dwarf o'ermaster'd, "Spare me and leave me free,
And could I ever servant save to one hero be,
To whom I've sworn allegiance as long as I have breath,"
Said the crafty Albric, "you would I serve to death."