Then spake the fiddle-player:
“Yonder I see them go,
The followers of Dietrich—
in semblance of a foe,
With weapons and in helmets:
us mean they to withstand.
I trow for us poor exiles
misfortune is at hand.”
Then spake the fiddle-player:
“Yonder I see them go,
The followers of Dietrich—
in semblance of a foe,
With weapons and in helmets:
us mean they to withstand.
I trow for us poor exiles
misfortune is at hand.”