Then there was the clash of shields and the shock
of men, the bitter hand-to-hand struggle and the 115
slaughter of hosts, when once they had passed within
an arrow's flight. On the fated folk dire enemies
hurled a shower of darts, and with might of arm
sent their spears, biting battle-adders, over the yellow
shields into the midst of their foes. But with 120
courage undaunted the other host advanced; from
time to time they surged forward, broke the rampart
of shields, thrust their swords between, and
sternly kept their way.
Then was the standard, the token, raised before
the armies, and they chanted the victors' song.
Over the field of battle gleamed spears and helmets 125
of gold. The pagan host was conquered; in
merciless strife they fell. As the king of the Romans,
dauntless in battle, bade raise that holy tree,
the peoples of the Huns straight fled away, and
their warriors were scattered far and wide. Some 130
perished in the fight, some saved themselves hardly
on the march, some, with life half-ebbed, fled to
fastnesses and nursed their strength behind barren
rocks, some seized the land near the Danube, and 135
some were finally drowned in the river's current.
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