leaped from their sinking steeds and formed
themselves on foot, and the infantry, forgetting their toil at the sight
of the foe, continued to advance. They halted at length on the edge of
the deep morass of Grona, in full view of the opposing army on the other
side.

With Henry were the bishops of Basle and Lausanne with their
men-at-arms, the Count Palatine Herman with all Franconia, Marquard of
Carinthia, and Lutold, his son. Many recreant Bavarians were around him,
and even Suabia raised her arm against her noble duke, in the person of
Werner, Archbishop of Strasburg. There, too, were found Ulrich of
Eppenstein, Arnaud of Lentzburg, Ulrich of Bregenz, Lutold of
Dillingen, the counts and prelates of the house of Welschneuenburg,
Egina of Achalm, and Werner of Gruningen. But conspicuous, even amid
that high-born and martial group, stood the Duke Godfrey of Bouillon and
Frederick of Hohenstaufen.

Rodolph was surrounded by Altman of Constance, and the mitres of Coire,
Rheinau, Stein, Wuertzburg, and Worms; he could touch the hands of
Eckhard of Richenau, of the Abbot of the Convent of All Saints at
Schafhouse, and of William de Hirschau, the most exemplary man of his
day. Welf, Otto of Nordheim, Berthold of Carinthia, and Hugo, Count
Palatine of Tuebingen, were ready to support him with their lives, as
they marched on proudly at the head of their vassals and soldiers.
Glittering at his side were raised the lances of Marquard of Bregenz,
Hartman of Dillingen, Burchard of Nellemburg, Cuno and Lutold of Achalm,
Werner of Hapsburg, Adalbert of Calm, Albert of Hers, and Sandrit of
Stramen.

At the moment the advancing columns halted, the legates of Gregory
appeared in front of the army and imparted the Papal benediction to all
who had taken up arms against the enemy of the Church and of the
liberties of Germany. As if a thunderbolt had stricken them down, the
soldiers sank simultaneously upon their knees, and, with their heads
bent upon their hearts, received the boon so dearly prized. While they
were yet kneeling, the clerks began to intone the eighty-second Psalm,
and the solemn strains could be heard all along the ranks. How sad was
the thought, that this calm music was but the prelude to the groans of
the dying and the hoarse shouts of blood-stained victory! As the army
rose at the last note of the Psalm, the clash of steel, instead of the
mournful chant, was heard along the line.

Rodolph, pale and thoughtful, but