The maids of Hammer, the maids of Pommer,
And many more maids with heed,
Wove silk and gold to form a girth
For the mottled Danish steed.
The saddle girth was ready and made
By the early morning tide;
’Twas seven ells long, and a quarter thick,
And more than five span wide.
But when the horse he girded was
So fierce he ramped and reared,
That there was none of Austria’s men
But to look upon him feared.
“Now do thou hear thou gallant horse,
I think thou’st human wit,
Before I mount thy back upon
I thee will ease a bit.
“Now do thy best, my gallant horse,
Who like a buck dost play;
Here may ye see, ye German knights,
Of Danish men the way.
“Now take away the crowned sword,
To bear it would break my vow;
And fetch ye hither a vessel’s mast,
I’ll wield it well I trow.”
The first course they together rode
The Trold show’d mighty force,
Their splintered spears a furlong flew,
And down fell either horse.
“I would but prove my horse’s strength,
I call not this a fight;
But meet me here tomorrow’s morn
And harder thee I’ll smite.”
Swayne Felding took the sacrament,
And round the churchyard paced;
Within his acton next his breast
The holy host he placed.
“And do thou hear, my Damsel fair,
Be never down at heart;
Either shall he the saddle quit
Or his tough neck shall start.”