Then thus outspoke Sir Iring, "Friends! this for certain know;
Arm me, and delay not; once more I'll prove my foe.
His fierce and haughty bearing I can no longer brook."
His shield was hewn and shatter'd; a better straight he took.
XXXIII
Soon was arm'd the warrior, and better than before;
He shook in wrath and fury the weighty spear he bore;
With this against his foeman with sturdy strides he went.
Hate-sparkling eyes upon him the fierce Sir Hagan bent.
XXXIV
Th' attack of bold Sir Iring he would not there await;
Down the stairs he bounded, and ran upon him straight,
Now darting, and now smiting; his wrath was at the height;
Little then his prowess avail'd the Danish knight.
XXXV
The champions smote so fiercely, that fire-red blasts began
To burn from either buckler; then Hawart's luckless man
So grievously was wounded by Hagan's monstrous main
Through sever'd shield and morion, he ne'er was whole again.
XXXVI
That wound dash'd Iring's courage; he felt him ill bestead;
He rais'd his shield yet higher to guard his bleeding head;
He deem'd it grievous mischief, the wound it was so sore;
Yet at the hand of Hagan had he to suffer more.
XXXVII