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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