Proud Brynild and proud Signelil
Those maids of beauteous mien,
Down to the river's side they went
Their silken robes to clean.

"Now do thou hear, thou proud Brynild,
What now I say to thee,
Where didst thou get the bright gold ring
I on thy finger see?"

"How did I get the bright gold ring
Which on my hand you see?
That gave me Sivard Snareswayne,
When he betrothed me."

"And though young Sivard gave thee that
When he his love declar'd,
He gives thee to Sir Nielus now
In proof of his regard."

No sooner than did Brynild hear,
The haughty hearted may,
Than to the chamber high she went,
Where sick of rage she lay.

It was the proud Brynild there
Fell sick, and moaning lay;
And her the proud Sir Nielus then
Attended every day.

"Now hark to me, thou Brynild fair,
My mind is ill at ease;
Know'st thou of any medicine
Can cure thy sad disease?

"If there be aught this world within
Can make thee cease to moan,
That thou shalt have, e'en if it cost
All, all the gold I own."

"I know of nought within this world
Can do my sickness good,
Except of Sivard Snareswayne
It be the hated blood.

"And there is nothing in this world
Which can assuage my pain,
Except of Sivard Snareswayne
The head I do obtain."

"To draw of Sivard Snareswayne
The blood I have no might;
His neck is hard as burnished steel,
No sword thereon will bite."

"O hark, Sir Nielus, hark to me,
My well beloved lord,
Borrow of him his Adelring,
His famous trusty sword.

"Tell him thou needest it so oft
When thou dost wage a fight,
But soon as 'tis within thy hand
Hew off his head outright."

It was the bold Sir Nielus then
His mantle puts he on;
To Sivard, his companion true,
To the high hall he's gone.

"Now hear, O Sivard Snareswayne,
Thy sword unto me lend,
For I unto the field of fight
Full soon my course must bend."

"My trusty faulchion Adelring
I'll freely lend to thee;
No man be sure shall thee o'ercome,
However strong he be.

"My trusty faulchion Adelring
To thee I'll freely yield,
But, oh! beware thee of the tears
Beneath the hilt conceal'd.

"Beware thee of those frightful tears,
They all are bloody red;
If down thy fingers they should run
Thou wert that moment dead."

Upstood the bold Sir Nielus then,
Drew out the sword amain;
One blow and off the head is hewn
Of Sivard Snareswayne.