Straight upon Sir Hagan leapt Master Hildebrand;
The sword you might hear clatter in either champion's hand.
Well might you note their fury by many a sturdy stroke.
From their clashing broadswords a fire-red blast there broke.
XLII
Soon were they swept asunder by th' heady stream of fight;
'Twas done by the fierce Berners hurtling in their might.
So from grim Sir Hagan turn'd off that aged man.
Wolfhart meanwhile in fury at valiant Folker ran.
On the good helm the minstrel he smote with fell intent,
So that the edge, descending, e'en to the beaver went.
That stroke the forceful gleeman repaid with such a blow,
As sent the sturdy Wolfhart tottering to and fro.
XLIV
They clash'd, that from the hauberks sparks were seen to start,
Either bore the other deadly hate at heart.
A Berner then, Sir Wolfwine, parted that stormy fight.
Who on such deed could venture, was sure a prowest knight.
XLV
The noble king, Sir Gunther, with frank and willing hand
Met the renowned champions of th' Amelungers' land.
Then, too, the good Sir Giselher himself so knightly bore,
That he made the polish'd morions red and wet with gore.
XLVI