“A Jutt is come to our land, Sir King,
Armed and dight in elfin way;
Of eight good knights the limbs he’s broke,
Who strove with him in battle fray.
“Of eight good knights the limbs he broke,
Halt and lame they will aye remain;
And upon the sod lies Allevod,
Thy sister’s son by that Jotun slain.”
Then answer made the ancient King,
Rending his hair so long and grey:
“With sable and mard I’ll them reward
Who dare this cursed Jutt to slay.”
Forth rode the Swedish courtiers then,
To slay the Jutt so sure they made;
But soon from them the vaunt he drove,
Such heavy blows on their polls he laid.
No sable and mard was their reward,
When they returned from the battle fray;
They must doff, I ween, their armour sheen,
And clothe them in the wadmal grey.
That vexed the Swedish courtiers sore,
And in mournful guise they murmured out:
“In Sweden’s land lives none can stand
Against this wild and sturdy Jutt.”
Sir Thunye he to Upsal rides,
Respect and honour attend his path;
The Swedish knights they held their peace,
And were only glad to escape his wrath.
And he has broken the huge steel-bar,
And he the savage bears has slain;
And out he has led the lovely maid
Who long in dreary thrall had lain.
“Now welcome be, Sir Thunye the Knight,
Unto this savage Swedish clime;
I say to thee in verity
I’ve sighed for thee a weary time.
“When I was but a little child,
To me ’twas spaed that a knight should come
From foreign land, should Allevod slay,
And to England’s realm should bear me home.