XIII
Straight the sorry tidings to every Hunnish chief
Were borne by hasty rumor (it gave them mortal grief)
That slaughter'd with his warriors was Blœdel good at need,
That Dankwart and the yeomen had done the bloody deed.
XIV
Before King Etzel knew it, inflam'd with deadly hate
Two thousand Huns or better donn'd their armor straight.
They march'd against the yeomen to deal them mortal dole,
And living of the party let not escape a soul.
XV
Before the house they muster'd, an army deep and dense;
Though succorless, the strangers stood well on their defence;
Yet what avail'd their valor? Dead perforce they lay.
Thence arose soon after a yet more horrid fray.
XVI
Now you must hear a wonder as never yet was told,
Within the hall lay lifeless nine thousands yeomen bold,
Thereto of Dankwart's followers twelve hardy knights and good,
And now among his foemen alone the warrior stood.
XVII
Hush'd was the din of battle, laid was the wild uproar;
He sternly o'er his shoulder survey'd the horrid floor,
And spake, "Alas, brave comrades! what? not a dying groan?
Then stand, must Dankwart aidless among his foes alone."