XIX
Down he dropp'd before him grovelling in the gore;
Sure then ween'd each beholder that he never more
Blow would give or parry on a battle-day;
Yet Iring all unwounded before his foeman lay.
So deep his morion sounded, so loud the sword-stroke clash'd,
His senses were confounded as to the ground he dash'd,
And like a corpse, though living, he lay unconscious there;
So wondrous was the prowess of strong-arm'd Giselher!
XXI
When from his brain bewilder'd the swoon had parted slow,
Which had his wits confounded from that o'er mastering blow,
Thought he, "I yet am living, and all unwounded, too.
Now know I Giselher's manhood, and feel what he can do."
XXII
He heard his foes about him as there he lay o'erthrown;
Worse would he have to suffer if once the truth were known
Well, too, the youthful Giselher perceiv'd he standing by.
Then thought he, from amongst them, by what device to fly.
XXIII