“’Twas then I lost my acton good,
And trusty courser grey,
In yonder ice-cold winters
When besieging Troy we lay.”
Then up the hall she led them
To a hundred of her train;
With naked faulchions brandished, they
Confront the heroes twain.
“If any knight among ye be
Who eat here of my bread,
Will dare to slay my brother,
I will give him gold so red.”
When heard that Folker Spillemand
He would no longer wait;
His sword from out the sheath he drew,
Down shivered fell the gate.
When he had bared the mighty blade
He felt at heart so light;
He slew full fifteen warriors
With blows of manly might.
“Ha, Ha,” said Folker Spillemand,
“Right goes my fiddle now”—
And then the Hero Hogen slew
Full twenty blow by blow.
It was the proud Dame Grimhild
With wrath well nigh was wode:
“Much better had ye stayed at home
Than come to our abode.
“Here will a hundred widows be
’Ere ye this fight have done.”
Then answered Hero Hogen:
“’Twas by thyself begun.”
It was the Hero Hogen,
His helmet lifted he:
“All under my cuirass of steel
I burn so furiously.
“I’m weary, weary to the heart,
And weak in verity;
O would to God in heaven is
A horn of wine had I.”