Olger the Dane

King Burman in Iceland camp'd his troops,
A glittering shield display'd,
Would know what daughters had Iceland's king,
And whether a handsome maid.

"Listen and ponder, Iceland's king,
"What now I would say to thee;
"Thy daughter give me, the one so fair,
"Thy kingdom divide with me.

"Either give me the maid to wife,
"And share with me all thy land,
"Or else a champion find, so bold,
"As dares me in fight withstand."

"No daughter have I but only one,
"Maid Gloriant she is bight;
"I've her to Carvel the king betroth'd,
"And will not his friendship slight.

"I Ve long to another pledged her baud,
"King Carvel her trulove's name;
"But if he cannot his bride defend,
"The maid thou art free to claim."

"O hark to me, dearest daughter mine,
"Here's sudden and baleful news;
"King Burman has all his troops afield,
"And e'en for thy favour sues.

"A dauntless foe King Burman is,
"No trifler in battle he;
"A champion to meet him find we must,
"Or hither he comes for thee."

No longer silence the maiden kept,
But thus to her father spake;
"In dungeon yonder a captive lies,
"A spear with him he might break."

She cloak'd her, the maiden Gloriant,
And thither she took her way,
To where in a dungeon deep and dark
The captives around her lay.

The maiden Gloriant cried aloud;
"O listen, ye captives all,
"Let Olger Dane, if he still is here,
"Come forward to meet my call.

"And art thou living, good Olger Dane?
"Mine errand is quickly told,
"King Burn) an is come, and me demands,
"King Burman, the swarthy Trold.

"My father to him my hand wilt give,
"And not to a Christian man;
"If thou wilt save me, and beat the Trold,
"I'll help thee in all I can."

"A whole long twelvemonth a captive here
"I've lingered in iron band;
"All blessings on you, fair Gloriant,
"To lend me a helping hand!

"A whole long twelvemonth a captive here
"In hunger and pain and thirst,
"Too weak am I now to face the Trold,
"And battle with him the -first."

"O lend me thine aid, good Olger Dane,
"My honour and life to save;
"For rather than take that lothely Trold
"I would I were in my grave.

"The man is so grim, his horse so fierce,
"I speak but a noted truth,
"Many have seen it, and all declare,
"He bites with a wolfish tooth.

"They naught for their daily food will eat,
"But flesh from a Christian rent,
"And nothing will drink to quench their thirst,
"But blood with a poison blent."

"Your father he gave you a gallant man,
"King Carvel your trulove's name,
"And if no match for the Trold is he,
"King Burman your hand will claim.

"But give me again my own good horse"
"And give me my coat of mail,
"For your sake, Lady, I'll do my best,
"At Burman I shall not quail.

"King Carvel was long my comrade dear,
"O would that the truth he knew,
"That rather I went to certain death,
"Than Burman should seize on you!"

"Then hark! I'll give thee thy own good horse,
"Thy coat of the steel so bright,
"And sword-blade, that urged by hero's hand
"Through hardest of mail can bite."

She led from the dungeon Olger Dane,
And had him so richly drest,
And set him at table in highest place,
And pour'd him of wine the best.

King Burman into the courtyard rode,
To seize on the maid he thought,
But mounted and arm'd met Olger Dane,
Who set his designs at naught.

They fought for an hour, they fought for twain,
A third too, — and fought their best,
And then on a stone they took their seat,
Their limbs for a while to rest.

And there as they sat, the heathen king
Thus Olger the Dane bespake;
"Believe my God, and I spare thy life,
"And thee as a captive take."

Him answer'd as proudly Olger Dane,
For mercy did he not care;
"Go tell them in Hell, thy next abode,
"'Twas Olger who sent thee there."

Again those champions rose to fight,
And neither his ground would yield,
Till swords, and helmets, and all was smashed
And scatter'd about the field.

They fought so manfully, fought so long,
Till bleeding were both and tired,
And sank King Burman at Olger's feet,
And there on the field expired.

Olger gave to the gentle maid
The horse and the rider both,
"And now, instead of yon heathen hound,
"King Carvel may claim your troth,"

The King her father so pleas'd was he,
He rose from his royal place,
And welcomed from battle Olger Dane
With honour and kindly grace.

"Now rise, my daughter, my Gloriant,
"Thy gratefullest thanks to show,
"Thyself go welcome good Olger Dane,
"Who saved thee from all thy woe."

Then rising, the maiden Gloriant,
As slender as any wand,
She stripped him of sword and coat of mail
And all with her own white hand.

She drew him kindly within her arm,
And warmly his lips she kiss'd;
"How sound and hale from the fight return'd!
"Our Father in Heaven be bless'd!"

Then spake to his daughter Iceland's king,
And just were his words and kind;
"But Olger now to the chamber take,
"And haste thee his wounds to bind."