Thule Vognson and Gray Swain

In church at Lund, a council sat,
And many the knights and squires thereat;

The maid and the dame, the knight and squire,
And Danish queen in her red attire.

Dame Mett got made a golden chair.
That into the church her servants bare.

In secret her chair of gold was wrought,
With pride to the church at Lund brought.

As into the church dame Mette went,
His eyes on the lady Sir Gray Swain bent.

As down on her chair dame Mette sat,
Sir Gray Swain began to mock thereat.

As she at the Altar bent her knee,
To sit on her gilded chair went he.

Dame Mette she turn'd from th' Altar round,
And tears from her eyes dropp'd on the ground.

"Sir Gray Swain, Sir Gray Swain, up, quit my chair,
"For never together shall we sit there."

Sir Gray Swain he seized her topknot fast.
And down on the floor Dame Mett cast.

As home to her dwelling rode the dame
Her sons all seven to meet her came.

The youngest a costly mantle spread,
That on it his mother's foot might tread.

"O welcome. Dame Mette, my mother dear,
"But why on thy cheek the briny tear?"

"And would ye then know why tears are there?
"Sir Gray Swain has driven me off my chair.

"They put on me, since your father died,
"Such violence and wrong and scorn beside/'

Her cloak she toss'd on the board again;
"Sir Thul, remember thy father slain"

"Dear mother, no longer shed a tear,
"You soon shall the best of tidings hear.

"Now lend me, mother, your scarlet gown,
"And set on me, sister, your golden crown:

"And lend me your ermined mantle red,
"And so will I go and venge the dead/'

A pageboy was at Sir Thule's side,
A friend of Sir Gray Swain good and tried.

He proved him his faithful friend that day,
He sent a message to warn Sir Gray.

"Go home, Sir Gray Swain, and leave the crowd;
"The sons of Sir Vogn your death have vow'd."

"Why should I so hastily home again?
"There's coming so gay a bridal train."

"Haste! haste! the delay you will surely rue;
"Those maidens are plotting no good to you."

Sir Thul the foremost led the band;
Sir Gray Swain he held him out his hand.

"Nay take to thee back thy hand again;
"hou know est it has my father slain."

"Whatever the wrong I did to thee,
"I paid it with gold in ready fee.

"In silver and gold I paid thee down
"Three thousand marks to the utmost crown."

"Tor him thou "hast paid me what was fair,
"But push'd my mother from off her chair."

"So God and his angels by me stand!
"I touch'd her not either with foot or hand."

Sir Thule a sword from his mantle drew,
Away to the church Sir Gray Swain flew.

Sir Thul pursued him with deadly hits,
And cut Sir Gray to a thousand bits.

The blood at Saint Mary's shrine was shed,
And both at Saint Stephen's now lie dead.