Served at the Emperor’s court meantide
The knight, with gold his spurs were glaring;
A glittering faulchion decked his side,
And truly knightly was his bearing.
Sir Axel lies in pomp and state
As well beseems so rich a noble;
But he at night no rest can get,
His dreams are full of woe and trouble.
Sir Axel in the chamber high
Doth lie on softest silk and fairest,
But sleep alas has fled his eye,
He’s ever thinking of his dearest.
Sir Emmer’s child, his Valborg fair,
He dreamt sat drest in costly fashion;
And Hogen, son of the King, by her
Sat softly pleading for his passion.
The morning sun its lustre shed,
The lark’s sweet voice on high was ringing;
Sir Axel started from his bed,
His clothes upon him swiftly flinging.
He saddled straight his good grey horse,
Within the wood he’ll take his pleasure;
His dreams from out his head he’ll force
By listening to the wild bird’s measure.
When to the wood Sir Axel wan,
Where blushing roses thick were growing;
In foreign garb he met a man
Upon a pilgrimage was going.
“Now pilgrim good a merry morn,
Say, whither, whither art thou faring?
Thou’rt from the land where I was born,
For that thy vestments are declaring.”
“My native land is Norroway,
From Gild’s high race I boast my being;
To Rome’s famed town I’ve vowed to stray,
My mind is bent the Pope on seeing.”
“From Gildish race if thou be sprung,
Then pilgrim thou art my relation;
Has Valborg me from memory flung?
Of her canst give me information?