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Then spake the noble Dietrich: “It fits not heroes good

To rail at one another as any old wives would.

You, Hildebrand, forbid I to wrangle any more:

On me, a homeless warrior, are weighing troubles sore.

“Come let us hear, Sir Hagen,” to him spake Dietrich then,

“What was it ye were saying, ye ready warriors twain,

When first ye saw me coming to you in armour dight?

Ye vow’d that ye against me would singly stand in fight.”

“That no man will deny you,” thane Hagen made reply,

“And with some sturdy sword-strokes here fam am I to try,—

Unless the blade of Niblung within my hand should break:

Wroth am I that you purpose us two in pledge to take.”

When Dietrich thus had hearken’d to savage Hagen’s mood,

Quickly his shield uplifted that gallant thane and good.

How swiftly Hagen toward him down from the stairway sprang!

The goodly sword of Niblung loudly on Dietrich rang.

Then well the noble Dietrich knew that the valiant man

Right ruthless was in humour. The lord of Bern began

Against this deadly onset to guard himself aright;

To him well known was Hagen, that all-accomplish’d knight.

Dread, too, had he of Balmung, a potent sword enow.

From time to time yet Dietrich gave back a wily blow,

Until at last, in fighting, Hagen o’ermaster’d he:

A single wound he dealt him; ’twas deep and long to see.