On the fated folk showers of darts,
Spears over shields into hosts of foes,
Sword-fierce foemen battle-adders
With force of fingers forwards impelled. 120
The strong-hearted stepped, pressed onwards at once,
Broke the shield-covers, thrust in their swords,
Battle-brave hastened. Then standard was raised,
Sign 'fore the host, song of victory sung.
The golden helmet, the spear-points glistened 125
On field of battle. The heathen perished,
Peaceless they fell. Forthwith they fled,
The folk of the Huns, when that holy tree
The king of the Romans bade raise on high,
Fierce in the fight. The warriors became 130
Widely dispersed. Some war took away;
Some with labor their lives preserved
Upon that march; some half-alive
Fled to the fastness and life protected
Behind the stone-cliffs, held their abode 135
Around the Danube; some drowning took off
In the stream of the river at the end of their life.
Then was of the proud ones the force in joy;
They followed the foreigners forth until even
From break of day. The ash-darts flew, 140
Battle-adders. The heap was destroyed,[3]
Shield-band of foes. Very few came
Of the host of the Huns home again thence.
Pages:
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39