ve.

Now midst yonder hostile ranks,
In his warlike pride he meets us,
Folko comes! Fight, men of Eric,
True and brave!"

These wondrous tones floated over the plain, and reached the tent
of Gabrielle. It was no new thing to her to hear her knight's fame
celebrated on all sides; but now that she listened to his praises
bursting forth in the stillness of night from the mouth of his enemies,
she could scarce refrain from kneeling at the feet of the mighty
chieftain. But he with courteous tenderness held her up, and pressing
his lips fervently on her soft hand, he said, "My deeds, O lovely lady,
belong to thee, and not to me!"

Now the night had passed away, and the east was glowing; and on
Niflung's Heath there was waving, and resounding, and glowing too.
Knights put on their rattling armour, war-horses began to neigh, the
morning draught went round in gold and silver goblets, while war-songs
and the clang of harps resounded in the midst. A joyous march was heard
in Biorn's camp, as Montfaucon, with his troops and retainers, clad in
bright steel armour, conducted their lady up to a neighbouring hill,
where she would be safe from the spears which would soon be flying in
all directions, and whence she could look freely over the battle-field.
The morning sun, as it were in homage, played over her beauty; and as
she came in view of the camp of Jarl Eric, his soldiers lowered their
weapons, whilst the chieftains bent low the crests of their huge
helmets. Two of Montfaucon's pages remained in attendance on Gabrielle;
for so noble a service not unwillingly bridling their love of fighting.
Both armies passed in front of her, saluting her and singing as they
went; they then placed themselves in array, and the fight began.

The spears flew from the hands of the stout northern warriors, rattling
against the broad shields under which they sheltered themselves, or
sometimes clattering as they met in the air; at intervals, on one side
or the other, a man was struck, and fell silent in his blood. Then the
Knight of Montfaucon advanced with his troop of Norman horsemen--even
as he dashed past, he did not fail to lower his shining sword to salute
Gabrielle; and then with an exulting war-cry, which burst from many a
voice, they charged the left wing of the enemy. Eric's foot-soldiers,
kneeling firmly, received them with fixed javelins--many a noble horse