At terror of the flood; the youths were doomed, 1530
And perished in the deep; the rush of war
Snatched them away with tumult of the sea.
That was a grievous trouble, bitter beer;
The ready cup-bearers did not delay;
From daybreak on each man had drink to spare.
The might of waters waxed, the men wailed loud,
Old bearers of the spear; they strove to flee
The fallow stream; they fain would save their lives
And seek a refuge in the mountain caves,
Firm earth's support. An angel drove them back, 1540
Compassing all the town with gleaming fire,
With savage flames. Wild beat the sea within;
No troop of men could scape from out the walls.
The waves waxed, and the waters thundered loud;
The firebrands flew; the flood welled up in streams.

Then easy was it in that town to find
The song of sorrow sung, and grief bemoaned,
And many a heart afraid, and dirges sad.
The dreadful fire was plain to every eye, 1550
Fierce pillager, the uproar terrible;
And rushing through the air the blasts of fire
Hurled themselves round the walls; the floods grew great.
There far and wide was lamentation heard,
The cries of helpless men. Straightway began
One wretched warrior to collect the folk
Humble and sad, he spake with mournful voice:--
"Now may ye truly know that we did wrong
When we o'erwhelmed this stranger with our chains,