"Alf wends upon the rampart green,
And cons with care his book;
There meets him Bendit Rimaardson,
Who is so dour of look.
"'What brings thee here, carl Mindre-Alf?
Thou art of courage rare:
If now thou'rt made king's prisoner,
The land no worse shall fare.'
"'But I am not Sir Mindre-Alf--
That is no name of mine: