Unto Dankwart loudly / thereat he gan to cry:
"Help! ho! my good brother! / Encountered here have I
A knight of arm full doughty, / from whom I come not free."
Then spake the valiant Dankwart: / "Myself thereof the judge will be."
Nearer sprang the hero / and smote him such a blow
With a keen-edged weapon / that he in death lay low.
For his slain brother Else / vengeance thought to take,
But soon with all his followers / 'mid havoc swift retreat must make.
Slain was now his brother, / wound himself did bear,
And of his followers eighty / eke had fallen there,
By grim death snatched sudden. / Then must the doughty knight,
From Gunther's men to save him, / turn away in hasty flight.
When that they of Bavaria / did from the carnage flee,
The blows that followed after / resounded frightfully;
For close the knights of Tronje / upon their enemies chased,
Who to escape the fury / did quit the field in mickle haste.
Then spake upon their fleeing / Dankwart the doughty thane:
"Upon our way now let us / backward turn again,
And leave them hence to hasten / all wet with oozing blood.
Unto our friends return we, / this verily meseemeth good."