rrow, if I live,
Meet ye in the battle's storm."

From beside the King's right hand
Rose a kemp, a stalwart one:
"What care we for such like foes?
Vidrik's but a blacksmith's son."

It was the young Hammergray,
At that word his wrath boiled o'er;
Straight he smote the kempion dead,
Dead he tumbled on the floor.

Said the Monarch with a cry,
While with rage his cheek grew white:
"Why hast thou my bravest kemp
Smit to death before my sight?"

Thereto answered Hammergray,
As the King he fiercely eyed:
"I could ne'er with patience hear
Verland's valiant son decried."

Straight away rushed Hammergray,
Soon he stood by Vidrik knight:
"Whet your spears, and sharp your swords,
For the King is bent on fight."

All the mirky night they rode
O'er the dusky heathery down,
Still a light like that of day
From their polished weapons shone.

Over Birting's moor they rode,
And through Birting's swamp in haste;
Full seven hundred were the kemps,
All in hard cuirasses cas'd.

Towards Birting on they rode,
Birting's city they rode through;
Then they formed them in a ring,
And made Vidrik chief anew.

On the down their flag they pitched,
Therein you a lion may spy;
Now must many an innocent man
Bid to life a long good-bye!

Long they fought with sword and bow,
Each essayed his best to do;
From their brows burst ruddy sweat,
From their bucklers fire out flew.

It was then the Vendel King,
From his helm a glance he cast:
"Say, who leads that band to-day,
That my people fall so fast?"

Straight replied the little page,
To the King rode next of all:
"Sir, 'tis Vidrik Verlandson,
Sits upon his courser tall."

Answered one of the King's kemps,
Who had been in many fields:
"Yes, 'tis Vidrik Verlandson,
Mimmering {13} in his hand he wields."

Thereto made the King reply,
As another glance he throws:
"'Gainst the shield I ill shall fight
Which the tongs and hammer shows.

"'Gainst the shield I ill shall fight
Which the tongs and hammer bears,
This day I am doomed to die,
For fierce Vidrik no one spares.

"Heathen wight, and Christian knight,
I would fight with glad and fain;
Only not with Verland's son,
For from him I scathe must gain."

Ha! Hurrah! the Vendel King
In his steed the rowels drove;
Desperate he at Vidrik went,
Desperate he to fell him strove.

Bravely done, thou Vendel King,
Fas