Romantic Ballads [16]
a fall.
And now comes forth the sixth good shield A linden is thereupon; And that by young Sir Humble is borne, King Abelon's eldest son.
There shines upon the seventh good shield A spur, of a fashion so free; And that is borne by Hogan, the less, Because he will foremost be.
There shines upon the eighth good shield A gray wolf, meagre and gaunt; Is borne by youthful Ulf van Jern; Beware how him you taunt!
There shine upon the ninth good shield Three arrows, and white are they; Are borne by Vidrik Stageson, And trust that gallant you may.
There shines upon the tenth good shield A fiddle, and 'neath it a bow; That's borne by Folker Spillemand; For drink he will sleep forego.
There shines upon the eleventh shield A dragon that looks so dire; Is carried by Orm, the youthful swain; He trembles at no man's ire.
And, now, behold the twelfth good shield, And upon it a burning brand; Is borne by stout Sir Vifferlin Through many a prince's land.
There stands upon the thirteenth shield A sprig of the mournful yew; That's borne by Harrald Griskeson; And he's a comrade true.
There stand upon the fourteenth shield A cloak, and a mighty staff; And them bore Alsing, the stalwart monk, When he beat his foes to chaff.
And now comes forth the fifteenth shield, And upon it three naked blades Are borne by good King Esmer's sons, In their wars and furious raids.
There stands upon the sixteenth shield, With coal-black pinion, a crow; That's borne by rich Count Raadengaard; The dark Runes well can he throw. {19}
There shines upon the seventeenth shield A horse, so stately and high, Is borne by Count Sir Guncelin; "Slay! slay! bide not," is his cry.
There shine upon the eighteenth shield A man, and a fierce wild boar, Are borne by the Count of Lidebierg; His blows fall heavy and sore.
There shines upon the nineteenth shield A hound, at the stretch of his speed; Is borne by Oisten Kiaempe, bold; He risks his neck without heed.
There shines upon the twentieth shield, Among branches, a rose, so gay; Wherever Sir Nordman comes in war, He bears bright honour away.
There shines on the one-and-twentieth shield A vase, and of copper 't is made; That's borne by Mogan Sir Olgerson; He wins broad lands with his blade.
And now comes forth the next good shield, With a sun dispelling the mirk; And that by Asbiorn Milde is borne; He sets the knights' backs at work. {20}
There shines on the three-and-twentieth shield An arm, in a manacle bound; And that by Alvor Sir Lange is borne, To the heroes he hands mead round.
Now comes the four-and-twentieth shield, And a bright sword there you see; And that by Humble Sir Jerfing is borne; Full worthy of that is he.
There shines upon the next good shield A goss-hawk, striking his game; That's borne by a knight, the best of all - Sir Iver Blaa is his name.
Now comes the six-and-twentieth shield, A jav'lin there you spy; Is borne by little Mimring Tan; From no one will he fly.
Such knights and bearings as were there, And who can them all relate; It was Sivard, the Snaresvend; No longer he deign'd to wait.
"If there be one of the Dane king's men, Who at Dyst {21} is willing to ride, Let him, I pray, without pause or delay, Meet me by the wild wood's side.
"The man among you, ye Danish court men, Who at Dyst has won most meeds; Him I am ready to fight, this day, For both of our noble steeds."
The heroes cast the die on the board; The die it roll'd so wide: "Since, young Sir Humble, it stops by thee, 'Gainst Sivard thou must ride."
Sir Humble struck his hand on the board; No longer he lists to play: I tell you, forsooth, that the rosy hue From his cheek fast faded away.
"Now, hear me, Vidrik Verlandson; Thou art so free a man; Do lend me Skimming, thy horse, this day; I'll pledge for him what I can:
"Eight good castles, in Birting's land, As pledges for him I'll set; My sister too, the lily-cheek'd maid, A fairer thou ne'er hast met:
"Eight good castles, and eight good knights; I'd scorn to offer thee less: If Skimming should meet any hurt
And now comes forth the sixth good shield A linden is thereupon; And that by young Sir Humble is borne, King Abelon's eldest son.
There shines upon the seventh good shield A spur, of a fashion so free; And that is borne by Hogan, the less, Because he will foremost be.
There shines upon the eighth good shield A gray wolf, meagre and gaunt; Is borne by youthful Ulf van Jern; Beware how him you taunt!
There shine upon the ninth good shield Three arrows, and white are they; Are borne by Vidrik Stageson, And trust that gallant you may.
There shines upon the tenth good shield A fiddle, and 'neath it a bow; That's borne by Folker Spillemand; For drink he will sleep forego.
There shines upon the eleventh shield A dragon that looks so dire; Is carried by Orm, the youthful swain; He trembles at no man's ire.
And, now, behold the twelfth good shield, And upon it a burning brand; Is borne by stout Sir Vifferlin Through many a prince's land.
There stands upon the thirteenth shield A sprig of the mournful yew; That's borne by Harrald Griskeson; And he's a comrade true.
There stand upon the fourteenth shield A cloak, and a mighty staff; And them bore Alsing, the stalwart monk, When he beat his foes to chaff.
And now comes forth the fifteenth shield, And upon it three naked blades Are borne by good King Esmer's sons, In their wars and furious raids.
There stands upon the sixteenth shield, With coal-black pinion, a crow; That's borne by rich Count Raadengaard; The dark Runes well can he throw. {19}
There shines upon the seventeenth shield A horse, so stately and high, Is borne by Count Sir Guncelin; "Slay! slay! bide not," is his cry.
There shine upon the eighteenth shield A man, and a fierce wild boar, Are borne by the Count of Lidebierg; His blows fall heavy and sore.
There shines upon the nineteenth shield A hound, at the stretch of his speed; Is borne by Oisten Kiaempe, bold; He risks his neck without heed.
There shines upon the twentieth shield, Among branches, a rose, so gay; Wherever Sir Nordman comes in war, He bears bright honour away.
There shines on the one-and-twentieth shield A vase, and of copper 't is made; That's borne by Mogan Sir Olgerson; He wins broad lands with his blade.
And now comes forth the next good shield, With a sun dispelling the mirk; And that by Asbiorn Milde is borne; He sets the knights' backs at work. {20}
There shines on the three-and-twentieth shield An arm, in a manacle bound; And that by Alvor Sir Lange is borne, To the heroes he hands mead round.
Now comes the four-and-twentieth shield, And a bright sword there you see; And that by Humble Sir Jerfing is borne; Full worthy of that is he.
There shines upon the next good shield A goss-hawk, striking his game; That's borne by a knight, the best of all - Sir Iver Blaa is his name.
Now comes the six-and-twentieth shield, A jav'lin there you spy; Is borne by little Mimring Tan; From no one will he fly.
Such knights and bearings as were there, And who can them all relate; It was Sivard, the Snaresvend; No longer he deign'd to wait.
"If there be one of the Dane king's men, Who at Dyst {21} is willing to ride, Let him, I pray, without pause or delay, Meet me by the wild wood's side.
"The man among you, ye Danish court men, Who at Dyst has won most meeds; Him I am ready to fight, this day, For both of our noble steeds."
The heroes cast the die on the board; The die it roll'd so wide: "Since, young Sir Humble, it stops by thee, 'Gainst Sivard thou must ride."
Sir Humble struck his hand on the board; No longer he lists to play: I tell you, forsooth, that the rosy hue From his cheek fast faded away.
"Now, hear me, Vidrik Verlandson; Thou art so free a man; Do lend me Skimming, thy horse, this day; I'll pledge for him what I can:
"Eight good castles, in Birting's land, As pledges for him I'll set; My sister too, the lily-cheek'd maid, A fairer thou ne'er hast met:
"Eight good castles, and eight good knights; I'd scorn to offer thee less: If Skimming should meet any hurt