High in hand their weapons Hettel and Ludwig bore⁠—
Well had they been sharpened. Soon each knew the more
Who was now his foeman, such strength they both were showing.
Ludwig slew King Hettel; and out of this our mournful tale is growing.

When the lord of Matelan upon the field lay slain,
Soon ’twas told to his daughter: loudly then began
Gudrun to mourn her father, so did many a maiden;
Not one could stop her wailing: friends and foes alike were sorrow-laden.

Soon as the grim old Wâ-te the death of the king did know,
He cried and roared in anger. Like to the evening glow,
Now were helmets blazing, beneath the strokes quick given
By him and all his followers, who by their loss were unto madness driven.

However hard their fighting, how could it bring them good?
Drenched was all the island with many knights’ hot blood.
Not yet the Hegeling warriors to think of peace were ready;
Away from the Wulpensand they only wished to bring Gudrun, their lady.

In stormy fight the Waal men bewreked the death of the king;
To many a fighting Ortlander and hard-pressed Hegeling
Those who came from Denmark of friendship gave a token:
Soon these knights so daring found in their hands their trusty weapons broken.

Now to avenge his father Ortwin bravely strove:
Faithful to him did Horant and all his followers prove.
Night the field had darkened, the light of day was failing;
Then were given to many wounds from which the life-blood fast was welling.

Soon, in the dark, on Horant a Danish follower sprang;
The sword that he was holding loud on the armor rang:
Thinking he was a foeman, Horant at once upon him
Wrought most bitter sorrow: a deadly wound by that warrior brave was done him.

When Horant saw that his kinsman beneath his blow lay dead,
Then he bade that his banner be borne with his own o’erhead.
The voice of him who was dying told whose life he had taken
With his hand so rashly; sorely he mourned the friend who never would waken.

Loudly called out Herwic: “Murder here is done!
Since we can see no longer, and daylight now is gone,
We all shall kill each other, friends and foes together.
If this shall last till morning, two may be left to fight, but not another.”

Where’er they saw old Wâ-te on the stormy fighting-ground,
No one there was willing near him to be found;
No welcome, in his madness, was he to any giving:
Many a foe he wounded, and laid on the spot that he would ne’er be leaving.

’Twas well the foes were sundered until the break of day;
On either side the foemen near each other lay,
Wounded to death or slaughtered. Fast the light was waning,
Not yet the moon was risen, and the Hegeling foe the field were nowhere gaining.

The warriors grim, unwillingly, to the strife now put a stop;
The hands of all were weary ere they gave the struggle up:
But, when the fight was over, they near each other loitered.
Wherever fires were burning, for each the other’s shields and helmets glittered.

Ludwig then and Hartmut, lords of the Norman land,
Talked aside together. Then to his faithful band
Spake the elder warrior: “Why be longer staying
So near the brave old Wâ-te, who all of us is madly bent on slaying?”

The wily king then bade them: “Lie low, and be not seen,
With your heads upon your bucklers: you then must make a din;
And so the men of the Hegelings my plan will not be knowing⁠—
That, if I now can do it, I with you all may hence unseen be going.”

Ludwig’s men and kinsmen did as he had said:
They upon their sackbuts and trumpets loudly played,
As if they, by their prowess, the land had gained them wholly.
Ludwig now to his followers showed his crafty plot and cunning fully.

Then were heard, on all sides, mingled shouts and cries;
But wailing from the maidens was not allowed to rise:
All who would not stop it were threatened death by drowning⁠—
To be sunk beneath the waters⁠— if they were sobbing heard, or loudly moaning.

Whate’er was owned by the Normans now to the ships was ta’en;
The dead were there left lying, e’en where they were slain.
Friends were lost to many who, seeking, could not find them:
So few there were still living, that many an empty ship was left behind them.

Thus unbeknown and slyly, sailed away o’er the main
The men of the land of Normandy; great was the women’s pain
From kinsfolk to be sundered, and yet to hush their weeping.
Of this the men knew nothing who now upon the Wulpensand were sleeping.

Before the day was dawning, well were on their way
They whom the Danish warriors had thought that morn to slay.
Then Wâ-te bade that loudly his war-horn should be sounded;
He was in haste to follow, and hoped erelong to fell them, deeply wounded.

On foot and on their horses, the men of the Hegeling land
All were seen together, flocking o’er the sand,
To fight the fleeing Normans; never in this they rested.
Ludwig with his followers already far upon their way had hasted.

Many ships lay empty, and clothing there was found;
All about the Wulpensand ’twas scattered o’er the ground;
Many weapons also were seen, with none to bear them.
They had overslept their going, and never to harm their foes could they come near them.

When this was told to Wâ-te, with anger he was torn:
How for the death of Hettel he bitterly did mourn!
And that on Ludwig’s body his wrath he was not wreaking!
Helmets there lay shattered; for this must many a woman’s heart be aching.

How gloomily and sadly now, in angry mood,
Ortwin was bewailing the loss of his warriors good!
He said: “Rouse up, my fighters! we may perhaps o’ertake them
Before they leave these waters; not far from shore we yet in flight may check them.”

Willingly old Wâ-te would his bidding do:
Fru-te the winds was watching, to learn which way they blew.
Then said he to his kinsmen: “What helps it though we hasten?
Mark what now I tell you: the thirty miles they’ve gained we ne’er can lessen.

“Moreover, we of fighters have not here enough
That we in aught can harm them, e’en should we now set off:
Scorn me not,” said Fru-te, “and to my words give heeding;
What more to say is needful? Your foes you cannot reach, howe’er you’re speeding.

“Bid that now the wounded upon the ships be laid;
Then on the field of battle let search for the dead be made,
And bid that they be buried upon this strand forsaken,
So friends may rest together; this good at least from them should not be taken.”

All, standing there together, wringing their hands were seen.
For this one sorrow only, would their lot have hapless been⁠—
To lose the youthful maiden, Hilda’s lovely daughter.
How, when they saw her mother, if home they went, could news so sad be brought her?

Then to them said Morunc: “Would there were nothing more,
Beyond our own sad losses, for which our hearts are sore!
Small reward will be given for the news we home shall carry,
That Hettel dead is lying: far from Hilda fain would I longer tarry.”

Then went the warriors searching for the dead upon the sand.
Those they knew were Christians who lay upon the strand,
As the Sturmisch Wâ-te bade them, were all together carried;
Then both the old and the younger chose a spot whereon the dead were buried.

Then said the knight, young Ortwin: “Let us bury them here;
And thought must we be taking to build a church full near,
That they be not forgotten, while this their end is showing.
For it shall all their kinsmen give of their wealth, each one his share bestowing.”

Then spake the Sturmisch Wâ-te: “In this thou well hast said;
We now should sell the horses and the clothing of the dead,
Who on the shore are lying; so, since their life is ended,
Shall many poor and needy, with the wealth they left, be holpen and befriended.”

Then asked the warrior Irold, if foes who there lay dead
Should also now be buried, or if wolves should on them feed,
And hungry ravens tear them, that round their bodies hovered?
Then to the wise they listened; none of the dead were left on the field uncovered.

When now the fight was over, and all were free from care,
Hettel, their king, they buried, who for his daughter dear,
Upon this barren seashore, e’en unto death had striven.
To others who had fallen, whate’er their land and name, was burial given.

First, the men from Moorland each by himself they laid;
The same was done for the Hegelings found among the dead;
Unto the Normans, also, gave they graves allotted:
Alone was each one buried, if Christian he were or heathen, it nothing booted.

Until six days were over, busy were they, at their best,
And never time were finding (for the warriors took no rest)
To ask for dead and dying the grace of God in heaven,
For sins of which they were guilty; that they for their misdeeds should be forgiven.

Saying mass and singing were later heard on the strand.
Never was God so worshipped, in any other land,
For the dead in stormy fighting. Wherever men were lying
With their death-wounds smitten, holy priests they brought to shrive the dying.

Many there did tarry to care for the churchly men.
A deed of gift was written, wherein it could be seen
How of land to the brothers three hundred hides was given.
Far and wide ’twas bruited, that well a godly house was builded, and had thriven.

All who there were mourning the loss of friends and kin
Gave of their wealth a tithing, women as well as men,
For weal of the souls of any whose bodies there lay buried.
The cloister soon was wealthy, by the yield of three hundred hides, through toil unwearied.

Now may God in his keeping have those who there lie dead,
And the holy men there dwelling. Those then homeward sped
Who still upon the Wulpensand were left among the living;
After all their sorrows, they reached their fatherland, no more in warfare striving.