e sword, his wits had grown so weak that the brave
knight no longer thought of life. Stalwart Giselher had done this with
his might. When now the ringing gan leave his head, the which he had
suffered from the mighty stroke, he thought: "I am still alive and
nowhere wounded. Now first wot I of Giselher's mighty strength." On
either side he heard his foes. Wist they the tale, still more had happed
him. Giselher, too, he marked hard by; he bethought him, how he might
escape his foes. How madly he sprang up from the blood! Well might he
thank his nimbleness for this. Out of the house he ran to where he again
found Hagen, whom he dealt a furious blow with his powerful hand.

Hagen thought him: "Thou art doomed. Unless be that the foul fiend
protect thee, thou canst not escape alive."

Yet Iring wounded Hagen through his crest. This the hero wrought with
Waska, (2) a passing goodly sword. When Sir Hagen felt the wound, wildly
he brandished his weapon in his hand. Soon Hawart's liegeman was forced
to yield his ground, and Hagen gan pursue him down the stairs. Brave
Iring swung his shield above his head, but had the staircase been the
length of three, Hagen would not have let him strike a blow the while.
Ho, what red sparks did play above his helmet!

Iring returned scatheless to his liegemen. Then the tidings were brought
to Kriemhild, of that which he had wrought in strife with Hagen of
Troneg. For this the queen gan thank him highly. "Now God requite thee,
Iring, thou peerless hero and good. Thou hast comforted well my heart
and mind. I see that Hagen's weeds be wot with blood." For very joy
Kriemhild herself relieved him of his shield.

"Be not too lavish of your thanks," spake Hagen. "'Twould well befit a
knight to try again. A valiant man were he, if he then came back alive.
Little shall the wound profit you, which I have at his bands; for that
ye have seen the rings wot with blood from my wound doth urge me to the
death of many a man. Now first am I enraged at Hawart's liegeman. Small
scathe hath Knight Iring done me yet."

Meanwhile Iring of Denmark stood in the breeze; he cooled his harness
and doffed his casque. All the folk then praised his prowess, at which
the margrave was in passing lofty mood. Again Sir Iring spake: "My
friends, this know; arm me now quickly, for I would fain try again, if
perchance I may not conquer this overweening man."

His shield was hewn to pieces, a better one he gained; full soon the