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105 there din of slaughter-strife, As broke the bossed bucklers, the shields that shelter life, In hands there of the hardy. Resounded floor of hall, Till crumpled in the contest Garulf, best of all Who dwelt in Frisian home-land,- son of Guthlaf, he-. And with him many a good man. Hovered waveringly The raven, swart and sallow-brown, about above the dead, And the light of battle-swords flashed so and spread, It seemed as if on fire were all Finn’s burg-stead. I never heard that worthier e’er were men in war, Nor sixty fierce defenders better fought before, Nor liegemen better paid back ever the sweet mead Than Hnaef’s retainers Hnaef repaid by brave sword-deed. And five days they fought there, so well that of that corps Never fell a man there; but still they held the door. And then a wounded hero wended him away; Said that now his byrnie was broken through, His war-harness useless, his helmet pierced too. And then anon did ask him the Fender of the Folk, How the bleeding warsmen were biding each stroke, Or which now of the two braves............... THE END |