Page:Gummere (1909) The Oldest English Epic.djvu/192

176 Hildebrand spake, Herebrand’s son. . . “Well can I see by thy war-gear now, the ruler thou hast at home is rich, nor under this king wast thou cast into exile. . . . Wellaway, God all-wielding, fate’s woe is upon us! I was summers and winters full sixty a-wandering, and still was I chosen with chief of the troops; yet at no burg was death ever dealt me by man. Now my own sweet son with sword must hew me, fell me with falchion, or fall at my hands! — Yet ’tis easily done, if thou doughty be, from so old a man his arms to take, to seize the spoil, if such strength be thine.