Spake once more the Fiddler: / "If e'er the harmony
Of my fiddle-strings thou breakest, / thy helmet's sheen shall be
Made full dim of lustre / by stroke of this my hand,
Howe'er fall out my journey / homeward to Burgundian land."
Then would he rush upon him / but that him did restrain
Hildebrand his uncle / who seizéd him amain.
"I ween thou would'st be witless, / by youthful rage misled.
My master's favor had'st thou / evermore thus forfeited."
"Let loose the lion, Master, / that doth rage so sore.
If but my sword may reach him," / spake Volker further more,
"Though he the world entire / by his own might had slain,
I'll smite him that an answer / never may he chant again."
Thereat with anger straightway / the men of Bern were filled.
Wolfhart, thane right valiant, / grasped in haste his shield,
And like to a wild lion / out before them sped.
By friends a goodly number / full quickly was he followéd.
Though by the hall went striding / ne'er so swift the thane,
O'ertook him Master Hildebrand / ere he the steps might gain,
For nowise would he let him / be foremost in the fray.
In the stranger warriors / worthy foemen soon found they.