LXIX
Noble knights a thousand first he ferried o'er,
Thereto his own stout followers; behind still tarried more.
Nine thousand lusty varlets he after brought away.
The hand of him of Trony had little rest that day.
LXX
As the good knight thus deftly was putting o'er his freight,
He thought on the strange warning he had receiv'd so late
From those wise river-ladies with their prophetic breath;
It brought King Gunther's chaplain within a hair of death.
LXXI
By his holy things close seated he found the priest at rest,
With one hand gently leaning above a relique-chest;
But in the grasp of Hagan that help'd him not the least.
Sore wrong perforce he suffer'd, that heaven-forsaken priest.
LXXII
He caught and cast him over sooner than can be told.
Many a voice loud shouted, "Hold, hold, Sir Hagan, hold!"
Wroth at the deed was Giselher, Dame Uta's youngest son,
But hold would not Sir Hagan till the mischief he had done.
LXXIII