King Swerker the Younger

Young Swerker rose before his lord,
In solemn council rose,
And told his lord a piteous tale.
The sum of all his woes.

"My brother has driven roe from home
"Out from the land of Swede,
"But lend me you, my lord, the men,
"I'll well repay his deed."

"Aye, Swerker, men I'll lend to thee,
"Both Seelander and Jute;
"Better than they are none on earth
"To slash a blade or shoot."

A great and solemn mass was sung
One holy Sabbath day,
And Swerker march'd to Oresund,
And sail'd his troops away.

Young Swerker stands on his ship's prow.
And gazes o'er the Sound;
"God, let me either win today,
"Or in these waves be drown'd!"

Together rush'd those highborn lords.
And hard they battled too;
A piteous game, a guilty strife
Where son the father slew!

And forward.rode the Danish men
With words of haughty scorn,
And fear'd the Wester Gylling men.
As peasants mow their corn.

The Danes they won the day indeed
With grievous toil and pain;
The field was all a bath of blood,
And heap'd with maim'd and slain.

A host of eighteen thousand men
Had left the Danish shore,
But saving three and three times five
Came hack again no more.

The owl and eagle hoot and yell
On every hill and dale,
And widows weeping leave their hearth,
And orphan children wail.

The lady sits in bower aloft
Waiting her husband home,
And blood-stain'd comes the horse he rode,
But brings his saddle toom.