“Step forth my sons, I say the word,
And in the oath be ye partakers;
Ye too, stout sons of Carl, the lord
Of Sondervalley’s fertile acres.”
Forward eleven warriors trode,
The mard and sable they were wearing,
They all were clad in princely mode,
In tresses each his hair was bearing.
Then forward stepped with dauntless air
Those counts eleven all together;
Their trusty swords were gilded fair,
And gilded was their girdles’ leather.
We’ll vouch the honour of yonder maid,
And blythe with her the oath embark in;
Ye noble couple forward tread,
And all unto your speech shall hearken.”
On the mass book Axel laid his hand,
His good sword holding by the handle;
By his side stood the knightly band,
All eager to refute the scandal.
The hilt of his brand within his hand,
The point against a flagstone planted,
With demeanour staid the knight he made
The solemn oath from him was wanted.
“’Tis true I had fair Valborg dear,
I loved none like her under heaven.
But ne’er to her have been so near
A kiss to her I might have given.”
Her hand then on the sacred book
The maiden laid with modest bearing:
“Upon Sir Axel’s form to look
These eyes had never yet the daring.”
They raised a heaven o’er her head,
In dress of gala they installed her;
To the high hall the maid they led,
‘The cherished of the king’ they called her.
In came Hogen the king’s son then,
He spake in high exhilaration:
“O there is neither knight nor swain
Shall leave this night my habitation.