The Hildebrandslied

I heard this tale [of hap and harm], That two warriors wielded their weapons amain, Hildebrand and Hadubrand, between two hosts. The father and son fastened their armor, Buckled their harness, belted their swords on Over coat of mail as to combat they rode. Hildebrand spake then, the hoary-hair’d warrior, More wise in life’s wisdom: he warily asked, And few were his words, who his father was In the folk, of the foemen. “[Thy friends would I know, And kindly tell me] what kin thou dost claim. If thou namest but one, I shall know then the others: The kin of this kingdom are couth to me all.” Hadubrand answer’d, Hildebrand’s son: “This lore I learned from long ago, From the wise and old who were of yore, That Hildebrand hight my father: my name is Hadubrand. Off to the east he wander’d, the anger of Ottokar fleeing, Marching away with Dietrich, and many a man went with him. He left in the land a little one lorn, A babe at the breast in the bower of the bride, Bereft of his rights: thus he rode to the east. But later Dietrich lost my father And lived henceforth a lonely man. For the foe of Ottokar, so fierce and keen, Was the dearest of thanes to Dietrich his lord. He was fain to fight where the fray was thick: Known was his bravery among bold warriors. I can not believe that he lives longer.” “I swear by the God who sways the heavens That the bonds of blood forbid our strife.” Then he unclaspt from his arm the clinging gold, Which was wrought of coin that the king had given, The lord of the Huns: “With love I give it.” But Hadubrand answer’d, Hildebrand’s son: “With the tip of the spear one takes the gift From the sharpened edge of the foeman’s shaft. Thou thinkest, old Hun, thy thoughts are deep, Thou speakest alluring words, with the spear it would like thee to wound me. With untruth art thou come to old age, for trickery clings to thee ever. It was said to me by seafarers Coming west over the wave that war slew him. Dead is Hildebrand, Heribrand’s son.” “Great Weirdwielder, woe worth the day! For sixty winters and summers I wander’d, Battling with foemen where blows keen fell. From the scarped wall unscathed I came. Now the son of my loins with the sword will hew me; He will deal me death or I dash him to earth. But now canst thou strike, if strong be thine arm, Canst win the harness from so hoary a man, And strip the spoils from the stricken foe.” Hadubrand answer’d, Hildebrand’s son: “Full well I hold, from thy harness rich, That thou comest hither from a kindly lord, In whose kingdom thou wast not a wandering wretch.” “The heart of a coward would the Hun now have Who would shrink from a foe so fain to fight, To struggle together. Let each now strive To see whether today he must bite the dust Or may bear from the field the bymies of both.” Then first they hurled the hurtling spears In sharpest showers that shook the shields. Then they clasht with their brands, the battle-boards bursting, And hewed with might the white linden Till they shivered the shields with shattering strokes, As they wielded their weapons [in wild warfare. They thrust and lasht and thundered blows Till the bloodjof the twain forth burst in streams And mingled hot on the hardened heath. Then with might the father all fiercely smote: Through helm he clove down clean to the teeth. Thus he dasht to death his dearest and nearest, The blood of his blood, the bone of his bone.]