LXXXIX

Then cried the knight of Trony, "Sure we with ill are cross'd;
Their country and their people in both these chiefs have lost
More than they'll e'er recover;—woe worth this fatal day!
We have here the margrave's meiny, and they for all shall pay."

XC

All struck at one another, none would a foeman spare.
Full many a one, unwounded, down was smitten there,
Who else might have 'scap'd harmless, but now, though whole and sound,
In the thick press was trampled, or in the blood was drown'd.

[XCI]

"Alas! my luckless brother who here in death lies low!
How every hour I'm living brings some fresh tale of woe!
And ever must I sorrow for the good margrave too.
On both sides dire destruction and mortal ills we rue."

XCII

Soon as the youthful Giselher beheld his brother dead,
Who yet within were lingering by sudden doom were sped.
Death, his pale meiny choosing, dealt each his dreary dole.
Of those of Bechlaren 'scap'd not one living soul.

XCIII