“Ride on thy way, Sir Thunye the Knight,
Nought else than peace thou shalt have from me;
In Upsal town a swain there lives
Will willingly break a lance with thee.”
Sir Thunye rides in Sweden’s land,
Essay his fortune there would he;
And there he found nine stalwart knights,
Stood armed beneath the forest tree.
Upon their heads their helms were placed,
Their good shields glittered before their breasts;
By their sides hung down their gilded swords,
And their spears hung ready within the rests.
“Halloo, ye Swedish champions nine!
Say, will ye fight for honour now?
Or will ye fight for ruddy gold,
Or the ladies’ love for whom ye glow?”
Then answered Allevod, the King’s son,
High rose the pride his heart within:
“Enough I have of honour and gold,
No more of either need I win.”
“There sits a maid in Upsal town,
That maid is named proud Ermeline;
By lance we’ll settle whose shall be
That lovely maiden, mine or thine.”
The first course that together they rode
So furious were that knightly twain
Asunder burst their shields of gold,
And their broken spears flew o’er the plain.
But now the second course they ride,
And again they meet with a crash like thunder;
Sir Allevod fell from his gilded selle,
His sturdy neck-bone burst asunder.
That vexed sore the Swedish knights,
Their leader’s fall they fain would wrake;
But fortune proved so stern and dour,
The good knight’s faulchion drove them back.
It was then the Swedish knights
Their ruffled garb adjusted they;
And unto the hall, the regal hall,
To the Swedish King they took their way.