She drew it from the scabbard—
he could not hinder her—
And of his life bethought her
to rid that warrior.
With both her hands she swung it,
and smote his head right off:
King Etzel saw her do it,
his grief was sore enough.
She drew it from the scabbard—
he could not hinder her—
And of his life bethought her
to rid that warrior.
With both her hands she swung it,
and smote his head right off:
King Etzel saw her do it,
his grief was sore enough.