“Our dear brother’s wife we are confident,
To let us be starved will ne’er consent.
“We know the Queen has a pitying breast,
She will straw send us whereon to rest.
“The hunger within us is sharp and strong,
Our hearts must certainly burst ere long.”
Then Brouk at that word so wrathful grew,
The keys he into the salt fiord threw.
Twas dismal to hear how with hunger they roared,
Each others shoulders they devoured.
And there is yet more woe to relate,
The flesh from the sides of each other they ate.
Much misery and woe there was that tide,
In each other’s arms the brothers died.
And thus things stood till five months were fled,
King Byrge came home from the war-field red.
“Now whither departed are brothers mine?
Why didst thou not give them their fill of wine?”
Then answered straight the little child:
“Brouk into the tower the nobles beguiled.”