Deep they descended to a hidden hall
Locked with locks, secured with seals.
The narrow gate gaped, they walked within
Dazzled by dance of flickering flames
On diamond and mithril
-- serried arms and armor --
-- jewels and precious metal. --

Their bright brands glanced on a gleaming coronet
Which flashed in the flame like a subterranean star:
And its rose-red ruby like a captive king
Lay enfolded in flowers of molded mithril.
The Avar held his breath
-- at treasure long-lost --
-- in ancient years of death. --

He looked at the lord matching eye to eye
And slowly smiled as if to challenge with charm.
'If the mail I make can break the blows
Of your strongest soldier, O Master of Men,
Would you call this coronet an equal exchange?'
And so they agreed
-- one lustful for power, --
-- the other, from need. --