“Now hearken to me, thou goodly knight!
And, if thou grant me grace,
I’ll work a spell shall serve thee well
For love of thy fair young face.
“Oh a maid am I from dawn till dusk—
But by night of a magic rune,
And a weird of woe, a wolf I go
O’ nights beneath the moon.
“Thou shalt slay three hosts in Ironwood
That the wolf her fill may feed—
Then as lover true, when the fight is done,
Shalt pay the maiden’s meed.”
Sir Arngrim looked upon the witch,
And her face was fair to see.
He’s plighted her troth on his knightly oath
And sealed it with kisses three.
It was the first o’ the hosts came on
With the rush of a roaring gale—
But they might not stir the single sword
That bit through bone and mail.
Oh half o’ the host at eve were slain,
And half o’ the host were fled;
And all night long in Ironwood
The wolf howled o’er the dead.
It was the second host came on
As levin leaps from the sky;
But they might not quell the witch’s spell
And the sword of grammarye.
Oh half o’ the host at eve were fled,
And half in their blood lay still;
And all night long in Ironwood
The wolf did feed her fill.
It was the third o’ the hosts came on
Like the waves of a winter sea;
But they broke on the sword as billows break
Where the hidden skerries be.
Oh half o’ the host at eve were slain,
And half were fled away;
And like the dead, among the dead,
In a swoon Sir Arngrim lay.