For two long days they fought, and when
The third to evening tended,
“Methinks,” exclaim’d the Berner Jutt,
“This fight will ne’er be ended.”
It was bold Orm Ungerswayne
His good sword brandish’d he,
And of the lofty Berner Jutt
Asunder cut the knee.
Loud bellowed then the Berner Jutt,
And loud he fell to ban:
“It ne’er was warrior custom yet
So low to strike one’s man.”
“I was small, and thou wast tall,
Thy prowess I admire;
I only struck thy knee because
I could not reach thee higher.”
Then took the bold Orm Ungerswayne
His faulchion on his back,
And to the ocean strand he goes
As fast as he could make.
It was bold Orm Ungerswayne
He paced the yellow sand,
And lo! Sir Tord of Valland came
Swift sailing to the land.
Foremost upon the gilded prow
The Tord of Valland stands:
“O who is yonder little man
That walks upon the sands?”
“O I am Orm, the youthful swain,
A kempion bold and fine;
’Twas I that slew the Berner Jutt,
That uncle dear of thine.”
“If thou hast slain the Berner Jutt,
That uncle dear of mine,
’Twas I the King of Ireland slew,
Beloved father thine.”
It was Tord of Valland then
With faulchion struck the earth:
“Never will I make amends
By gold or money’s worth.”