Among them spake another: / "Our lives we here must end.
What now avails the greeting / the king to us did send?
So sore this heat oppresseth / and parched with thirst my tongue,
My life from very anguish / I ween I must resign ere long."
Then quoth of Tronje Hagen: / "Ye noble knights and good,
Whoe'er by thirst is troubled, / here let him drink the blood.
Than wine more potent is it / where such high heat doth rage,
Nor may we at this season / find us a better beverage."
Where fallen knight was lying, / thither a warrior went.
Aside he laid his helmet, / to gaping wound he bent,
And soon was seen a-quaffing / therefrom the flowing blood.
To him though all unwonted, / yet seemed he there such drinking good.
"Now God reward thee, Hagen," / the weary warrior said,
"That I so well have drunken, / thus by thy teaching led.
Better wine full seldom / hath been poured for me,
And live I yet a season / I'll ever faithful prove to thee."
When there did hear the others / how to him it seeméd good,
Many more beheld ye / eke that drank the blood.
Each thereby new vigor / for his body won,
And eke for lover fallen / wept many a buxom dame anon.