ed them.

He left Gunther, and ran at Gernot, and began to strike sparks from his
mailcoat, but King Gernot of Burgundy well-nigh slew him. Then he sprang
from the princes, for he was right nimble, and soon had slain four
Burgundians from Worms beyond the Rhine. Giselher was greatly wroth
thereat. "Now by God, Sir Iring," he cried, "thou shalt pay for them
that lie dead!" and he fell on him. He smote the Dane, that began to
stagger, and dropped down among the blood, so that all deemed the doughty
warrior would never strike another blow. Yet Iring lay unwounded withal
before Giselher. From the noise of his helmet and the clang of the sword
his wits left him, and he lay in a swoon. That had Giselher done with
his strong arm.

When the noise of the blow had cleared from his brain, he thought, "I
live still, and am unwounded. Now I know the strength of Giselher." He
heard his foemen on both sides. Had they been ware how it stood with
him, worse had befallen him. He heard Giselher also, and he pondered by
what device he might escape them. He sprang up furiously from among the
blood. Well his swiftness served him. He fled from the house, past
Hagen, and gave him a stout stroke as he ran.

"Ha!" thought Hagen, "Thou shalt die for this. The Devil help thee, or
thou art a dead man." But Iring wounded Hagen through the helmet. He
did it with Vasky, a goodly weapon.

When Hagen felt the wound, he swung his sword fiercely, that Hawart's man
must needs fly. Hagen followed him down the stair. But Iring held his
shield above his head. Had the stair been thrice as long, Hagen had not
left him time for a single thrust. Ha! what red sparks flew from his
helmet! Yet, safe withal, Iring reached his friends.

When Kriemhild heard what he had done to Hagen of Trony in the strife,
she thanked him. "God quit thee, Iring, thou hero undismayed! thou hast
comforted me, heart and soul, for I see Hagen's harness red with blood."
The glad queen took the shield from his hand herself.

"Stint thy thanks," said Hagen. "There is scant cause for them. If he
tried it again, he were in sooth a bold man. The wound I got from him
will serve thee little. The blood thou seest on my harness but urgeth me
to slay the more. Only now, for the first time, I am wroth indeed. Sir
Iring hath done me little hurt."

Iring of Denmark stood against the wind, and cooled him in his harness,
with his helmet unlaced; and all the folk praise