"Now must thy gift too surely the giver harm to-day,
Since of my friends so many thy strength has swept away.
So turn about, and face me, thou bold and high-born man!
Thy goodly gift to merit, I'll do the best I can."
LXXXV
Ere through the press the margrave could come Sir Gerno nigh,
Full many a glittering mailcoat was stain'd a bloody die.
Then those fame-greedy champions each fierce on th' other leapt,
And deadly wounds at distance with wary ward they kept.
LXXXVI
So sharp were both their broadswords, resistless was their dint;
Sudden the good Sir Rudeger through th' helmet hard as flint
So struck the noble Gernot, that forth the blood it broke;
With death the stern Burgundian repaid the deadly stroke.
LXXXVII
He heav'd the gift of Rudeger with both his hands on high,
And, to the death though wounded, a stroke at him let fly
Right through both shield and morion; deep was the gash and wide.
At once the lord of Gotelind beneath the swordcut died.
LXXXVIII
In sooth a gift so goodly was worse requited ne'er,
Down dead dropp'd both together, Gernot and Rudeger,
Each slain by th' other's manhood, then prov'd, alas! too well.
Thereat first Sir Hagan furious wax'd and fell.