Now was there silence in the ring of men; but it opened presently and through it came all-armed warriors bearing another bier, and lo, Otter upon it, dead in his war-gear with many a grievous wound upon his body.  For men had found him in an ingle of the wall of the Great Roof, where he had been laid yesterday by the Romans when his company and the Bearings with the Wormings made their onset:  for the Romans had noted his exceeding valour, and when they had driven off the Goths some of them brought him dead inside their garth, for they would know the name and dignity of so valorous a man.

So now they bore him to the mound where Thiodolf lay and set the bier down beside Thiodolf’s, and the two War-dukes of the Markmen lay there together:  and when the warriors beheld that sight, they could not forbear, but some groaned aloud, and some wept great tears, and they clashed their swords on their shields and the sound of their sorrow and their praise went up to the summer heavens.

Now the Hall-Sun holding aloft the waxen torch lifted up her voice and said: 

   “O warriors of the Wolfings, by the token of the flame
   That here in my right hand flickers, ye are back at the House of the
   Name,
   And there yet burneth the Hall-Sun beneath the Wolfing Roof,
   And the flame that the foemen quickened hath died out far aloof. 
   Ye gleanings of the battle, lift up your hearts on high,
   For the House of the War-wise Wolfings and the Folk undoomed to die. 
   But ye kindreds of the Markmen, the Wolfing guests are ye,
   And to-night we hold the high-tide, and great shall the feasting be,
   For to-day by the road that we know not a many wend their ways
   To the Gods and the ancient Fathers, and the hope of the latter days. 
   And how shall their feet be cumbered if we tangle them with woe,
   And the heavy rain of sorrow drift o’er the road they go? 
   They have toiled, and their toil was troublous to make the days to
   come;
   Use ye their gifts in gladness, lest they grieve for the Ancient Home! 
   Now are our maids arraying that fire-scorched Hall of ours
   With the treasure of the Wolfings and the wealth of summer flowers,
   And this eve the work before you will be the Hall to throng
   And purge its walls of sorrow and quench its scathe and wrong.”

She looked on the dead Thiodolf a moment, and then glanced from him to Otter and spake again: 

“O kindreds, here before you two mighty bodies lie; Henceforth no man shall see them in house and field go by As we were used to behold them, familiar to us then As the wind beneath the heavens and the sun that shines on men; Now soon shall there be nothing of their dwelling-place to tell, Save the billow of the meadows, the flower-grown grassy swell!  Now therefore, O ye kindreds, if amidst you there be one Who hath known the heart of the War-dukes, and the deeds their hands have