It was the proud Dame Grimhild drew
Her mantle o’er her head;
She hurried to the castle hall,
And in her brothers bade.
“O will ye go to bower now
And drink the mead and wine?
Or will ye sleep in beds of silk
With two fair maids of mine?”
It was the proud Dame Grimhild drew
Her mantle o’er her head,
And into the stone chamber
To her warriors all she sped.
“Here sit ye all my valiant men
And drink the mead and wine;
Now who will Hero Hogen slay,
Though he be brother mine?
“Whoe’er will do the doughty deed
Of striking Hogen dead,
Shall master of my castles be,
And of my gold so red.”
Then answered her a warrior,
A baron of that land:
“O I will earn the prize this day,
Forsooth with this good hand.
“O I will do the doughty deed,
Strike Hero Hogen dead;
Then I will o’er thy castles rule,
And o’er thy gold so red.”
Then answered Folker Spillemand,
With mighty iron spear:
“I’ll set my mark upon thee, knave,
Before thou scap’st from here.”
And at the first blow he has laid
Full fifteen warriors low:
“Ha bravely, Folker Spillemand,
You touch your fiddle bow!”
He smote to death the warriors,
A bridge of them he made;
And broad and long I ween it was,
Full rough with them he play’d.