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 And he struck off a head to the rightward, and his

sword through a throat he thrust, But the third stroke fell on his helm-crest, and he

stooped to the ruddy dust, And uprose as the ancient Giant, and both his hands

were wet: Red then was the world to his eyen, as his hand to

the labour he set; Swords shook and fell in his pathway, huge bodies

leapt and fell,

Harsh grided shield and war-helm like the tempest- smitten bell, And the war-cries ran together, and no man his

brother knew, And the dead men loaded the living, as he went

the war- wood through; And man 'gainst man was huddled, till no sword

rose to smite, And clear stood the glorious Hogni in an island of

the fight, And there ran a river of death 'twixt the Niblung

and his foes, And therefrom the terror of men and the wrath of

the Gods arose.

GUNNAR

Now fell the sword of Gunnar, and rose up red in

the air, And hearkened the song of the Niblung, as his voice

rang glad and clear,

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