“Beware thee of those frightful tears,
They all are bloody red;
If down thy fingers they should run
Thou wert that moment dead.”
Upstood the bold Sir Nielus then,
Drew out the sword amain;
One blow and off the head is hewn
Of Sivard Snareswayne.
Beneath his mantle then he takes
The head, distilling blood,
And hurrying to the chamber high
Before Brynilda stood.
“Behold the head, the bloody head,
Thou didst so crave to gain;
For thee I’ve done a felon deed
Which gives my heart such pain.”
“O lay aside the bloody head,
It fills my heart with fright;
And come to me, my dearest lord,
Beneath the linen white.”
“I crave thee, woman, not to think
I came for sport and play;
Thou wast the wicked cause that I
From honour went astray.”
It was the bold Sir Nielus then
His faulchion he drew out;
It was the beauteous Brynild whom
He all to pieces smote.
“Now have I slain my comrade dear,
And eke my lovely may,
Yet still I am resolved in mind
A third, a third to slay.”
So then against the hard stone floor
He placed the trusty glaive;
To his heart’s root the point in went,
And him his death wound gave.
’Twere better that this maid had died
Within her mother’s womb,
Than that these princely men through her
To such an end should come.