LXXIV
Soon as aged Hildebrand felt the sharp gash aright,
He look'd for worse, by waiting, from Hagan's stormy might;
So o'er his back his buckler straight threw Sir Dietrich's man,
And swift, though sorely wounded, away from Hagan ran.
LXXV
Now not a man was living of that Burgundian train
Gunther except, and Hagan, these the sole breathing twain.
Old Hildebrand thence hasted, with blood all dabbled o'er,
And to the noble Dietrich his sorry tidings bore.
LXXVI
Apart he found him sitting, solemn and sad of cheer;
What more might move his sorrow the prince had yet to hear.
Straight Hildebrand beheld he clad in his bloody mail;
He ask'd him of his tidings, yet fear'd to hear his tale.
LXXVII
"Now tell me, Master Hildebrand, what brings you here so wet
With life-blood? Who has done it? What mischief have you met?
I fear, you have been fighting in th' hall with yonder guests;
I earnestly forbade it; you should have kept your lord's behests."
LXXVIII
Straight his lord he answer'd, "'Twas Hagan did it all;
This wound, that so is bleeding, he gave me in the hall,
As from the knight I turn'd me, and would have left the strife.
Scarce from that very devil have I escaped with life."