King Diderick in Birtingsland

The king rules over the castle tower,
And lords it over land,
And many a gallant champion leads
All arm'd and sword in hand.

Then let the peasant till his farm,
His horse. the trooper guide,
The king of Denmark, him alone,
O'er fort and tower preside.

King Diderick sits on Bratingsborg,
Looks over land and sea;
"I know not one in all this world,
"Dares match himself with roe/'

"And yet," said Brand of Wifferlin,
For he had wander'd far,
"There's one whom I could show thee, king,
"A match for thee in war.

"King Isak is that champion's name,
"He dwells in Birtingsland,
"And leads such warriors in his train,
"As can a wolf withstand.

"He leads such warriors in his train,
"As oft have fought the bear;
"The flesh and blood of Christian men
"His foul but only fare.

"Each morning, soon as dawns the day,
"Hell -food he loves to gnaw,
"Toads, vipers, efts and poisonous herbs
"To spice his fiendish maw."

In stepp'd to the hall a little page,
And stood before the board;
"The tribute fix'd a year ago
"'Tis time ye pay my lord."

"I'll nevermore the tribute give
"I hitherto have paid;
"Will rather march to Birtingsland,
"And there unsheathe my blade."

With joy rose Hwitting Helfred's son,
And laugh'd with all his heart;
"If you to Birtingsland will go,
"I'm here to take my part'

"Last year thou wast in Birtingsland,
"And there thy horse hast lost;
"'Twere best, I trow, to stay at home,
"Or dear thy game may cost"

"Rather than stay at Bratingsborg,
"I'd lose a foot and hand;
"Nay, if no horse I have to ride,
"On foot I'll join your band."

The troop that rode from Bratingsborg,
So solid was and great,
The stones were crushed, the trembling earth
Gave way beneath their weight.

Foremost of all king Diderick rode,
A lion upon his shield,
And on it shone the golden crown
Afar across the field.

With gleaming crown of ruddy gold
The royal Diderick rode,
And next him Vidrick Verlandson
His tongs and hammer show'd.

Next follow'd Siward, Hasty swain,
With brightly polish'd spear,
And then came Brand of Wifferlin
Who knew no sense of fear.

Next him the Hero Hogen rode
All blooming like a maid;
And then rode Folker Spilleman,
In hand his naked blade.

Next after them young Alf of Yern,
His horse a noble dan,
And then the young knight Homme rlom,
Sir Holmboe Jensen's son.

Bold Gynther next and Gemot rode
With arrows laid on bow,
And then rode Sonne Folkerson
With courage on his brow.

Next them the little Grimmer came
With burnish'd coat of mail,
And Seier, in battle field so prompt,
Was never seen to quail.

The next rode Master Hildebrand,
Who sat so well his steed,
And then the stout monk Alsing rode,
Had earn'd a champion's meed.

They went away from Bratingsborg
In full array and force;
Behind walk'd Hwitting Helfred's son,
For he had lost his horse.

So long ran Hwitting Helfred's son,
His face with anger glow'd;
He struck a warrior off his horse,
And mounted it, and rode.

The good king Diderick turn'd him round,
Was riding in the van;
"On horseback now I see the swain
"Who barefoot lately ran.

"But hark thee, Hwitting Helfred's son,
"And hear what I would say;
"'Tis thou shalt march to Birtingsland,
"And make them tribute pay.

"Aye!" answer'd Hwitting Helfred's son,
And laugh'd with hearty glee,
"And if I go to Birtingsland,
"We'll go but only three."

"Then take thee Vidrick Verlandson
"And Diderick, him of Bern;
"These are of all my gallant men
The last their backs to turn."

They mounted horse, those stalwart three,
And long the way they rode,
And, but the simple truth to tell,
Most fiery tempers show'd.

The watchman high on turret stands,
And looks around so far;
"Yonder I see three champions come,
"Methinks they're bent on war.

"The one is Hwitting Helfred's son,
A tried and stubborn foe;
"The same was here and lost his horse,
"'Tis now a year ago.

"The next is Vidrick Verlandson,
"His hammer and tongs withal;
"The third is Diderick, he of Bern,
"Three champions stout and tall.

Their horses in the yard they left
And into the castle strode,
And, truth to tell, without delay
Their ruthless spirit show'd.

The porter near the gate they seized
And chopp'd in morsels small,
And in they strode before the king,
Into the lofty hall

Isak, the king of Birtingsland,
He rose, and this his word;
"Now whence are come these desperate men,
"Who stand before my board?"

Up then the royal butler spake,
Who pour'd the wine and mead;
"Let us but take our spears in hand,
"We'll drive them back with speed."

But Helfred's son the braggart seiz'd
All by his shaggy beard,
And beat his head, till floor and wall
With reeking brains were smear'd.

Aye farther, Hwitting Helfred's son
A dismal jest to make,
He toss'd the body upon the board;
"Who broils for me the steak?"

Stepp'd forward Diderick, he of Bern,
And sword from scabbard drew,
King Isak in his navel stabb'd,
And ran his body through.

And on fWi'd Vidrick Verlandson,
And clear'd himself a ring;
He left fall forty champions dead
Around their slaughter'd king.

In tears king Isak's mother came,
And old was she and gray;
With her those heroes, truth to tell,
Strange games began to play.

In anger Hwitting Helfred's son
His sword upon her drew,
But she in sunder kiss'd the blade,
And shiver'd off it flew.

His trusty blade she kiss'd in twain,
In shivers made it fly;
But her he seiz'd by both her legs,
And whirl'd her up on high.

She changed her form to a screaming crane,
And off to the welkin flew,
But he drew on a feather dress,
And flew to the welkin too.

They flew all day, they flew for three,
Untired still on they went,
Till by her legs the crane he seized,
And into morsels rent.

And that day's pastime ending so,
All arm'd and sword in hand,
They left king Isak's warriors dead,
And rode from Birtingsland.