Advanced with silver staff in hand
The Archbishop then, of reverend carriage;
Behind him all the priestly band
Who should forbid the lovers' marriage.

Then forth Canute the brother trode,
With scrolls of pedigree was laden;
And from those scrolls alack he show'd
That near akin were knight and maiden.

The tree of pedigree was read
By the command of that black brother;
They were akin full clear it made,
And both by lineage of the mother.

Descended of a lineage high
Each to the other stood related,
In third degree their affinity,
So priests the pair have separated.

Two cousins they from Gild's root sprung,
A prodigy of virtue either;
Proud Valborg fair and Axel young
Must never, never come together.

What time they were baptized one Dame
Did bear them to the sacred fountain;
Their Godfather he was the same,
His name Sir Asbiorn of the mountain.

Relations they by birth and blood,
Of Gildish race renowned and dreaded;
Relations they beside in God,
Alas! they never can be wedded.

They led them to the shrine, and placed
A kerchief in their hands which quiver;
Their lineage and line are traced,
And priests are bent their bands to sever.

They 'twixt the two the cloth cut through,
A portion each in hand retaineth;
However great and high his state
There's none that o'er his fortune reigneth.

"The handkerchief is parted now,
Ye have parted us for good and ever,
But whilst with life our breasts shall glow
Our love ye shall dissever never."

The gold ring off her hand to take
And bracelet from her wrist they hastened;
His gifts they gave to Axel back,
The knot of love was now unfastened.

The gold he on the altar threw,
To Olave that he consecrated,
And swore to bide to Valborg true
As long as he to live was fated.

Then wroth grew Hogen son of the King,
Who stood his scarlet garb array'd in:
"Since her from mind thou canst not fling
'Tis clear and plain she is no maiden."

Outspoke of the clerks the wisest wight,
E'en Erland he the good Archdeacon:
"The man who does not know the might
Of love an ignorant man I reckon.

"With water we the fire can quench,
And slake the brand that's fiercely glowing,
But though the flame with floods we drench
The flame of love will yet be growing.

"The sun shines bright on hill and plain,
We sink its scorching fury under,
But ah; love's chain is harder pain,