Then gathered straight the leaders of the folk
  Their mighty troops; unto the prison strong
  The faithless host of heathen warriors
  Came fully armed, where late their captive thralls 1070
  Had suffered woe within the prison mirk. 
  They weened and wished, those stubborn-hearted foes,
  That they might make those foreign men their meat,
  Food for the multitude; their hope was vain,
  For, coming with their troops, those spearmen fierce
  Found prison-doors wide open, and the work
  Of hammers all unloosed, the watchmen dead. 
  So back they turned, those luckless warriors,
  Robbed of their joy, to bear the tidings sad;
  They told the folk that of the stranger men, 1080
  The men of foreign speech, not one they found
  Remaining in that prison-house alive;
  But there upon the ground all stained with gore,
  Lifeless the watchmen lay, robbed of their souls,
  Mere slaughtered bodies.  At that sudden news
  Dismayed was many a captain of the host,
  Sad and cast down at thoughts of famine stern,
  That pale guest at the board.  No better way
  They knew than on the dead to make their feast
  For their own sustenance; in a single hour 1090
  The bed of death was spread by cruel fate
  For all those watchmen.

          Then, as I have heard,
  A gathering of the townsmen was proclaimed;
  The heroes came, a host of warriors
  Riding on horses, brave men on their steeds
  Exchanging speech; skilled were they at the spear. 
  So in the meeting-place the people all
  Were gathered, and they bade the lot decide
  Among them, who should first give up his life 1100
  For food unto the rest; they cast the lots
  With hellish craft; before their heathen gods
  They counted them.  Behold, the lot did fall
  Upon an aged chieftain, one who was
  A counselor among the noble lords,
  In front rank of the host.  Soon was he bound
  In fetters fast, despairing of his life.

    Then cried that chieftain fierce with voice of woe,
  Proclaiming he would give his own young son
  Into their power as ransom for his life. 1110
  With thankful hearts they took his offering,
  For greedily they lusted after food,
  Sad-minded men; no joy had they in wealth,
  Nor hope in hoarded riches; they were sore
  Oppressed with hunger, for the famine dire
  Held cruel sway.  Then many a warrior
  And hero battle-bold was fired in heart
  To struggle for the life of that young man;
  The sign of woe was published far and wide
  Throughout the town to many a hero brave, 1120
  That they should seek in troops the young man’s death,
  That, young and old, they should receive their share
  As food to keep their lives.  The heathen priests
  Straightway collected there a multitude
  Of dwellers in that town; loud shouts arose.