III
Sore throng'd were then the strangers, such crowds to see them ran;
Thereat the valiant Folker thus to the Huns began.
"How dare you crowd and press us, ill-train'd, unnurtur'd crew?
Give place, or you'll discover 'twill be the worse for you.
IV
"My fiddlestick's no feather; on whom I let it fall,
If he has friends that love him, 'twill set them weeping all.
Make way then for us warriors, for so it seems me right.
We're equals all in knighthood, not so in mood and might."
V
While thus in wrath the minstrel reprov'd the jostling crowd,
Hagan, who had gone forward, look'd back and cried aloud,
"List to the valiant gleeman; he gives you good advice;
To your quarters, knights of Kriemhild! Let us not warn you twice.
VI
"Your malice lacks performance; e'en now, methinks, you doubt;
So, if you would aught with us, by daylight seek us out,
And, for this night, to slumber leave us wayfarers free.
Never, I ween, did warriors so long for it as we."
VII