“Now welcome little Tilventin,
And where hast thou passed the night?”
“I have passed the night at Brattingsborg,
Where from helms the fire they smite!”
It was the Count Sir Guncelin,
From under his red helm glared:
“Sir Tilventin it had better been
If that thou hadst never declared.”
It was the Count Sir Guncelin,
His sharp sword out he drew;
It was little Tilventin,
Whom he did to pieces hew.
He rode away unto Brattingsborg,
On the door he struck with his spear:
“Doth any warrior bide therein,
Who will come and fight me here?”
It was the Knight Sir Ivor Blue,
He turned to the West his eye:
“Now help me Wolf and Asmer hawk,
I hear a kemp’s fierce cry.”
It was the Knight Sir Ivor Blue,
He turned to the East his eye:
“Now help me, Odin, for thou hast might,
I hear Sir Guncelin’s cry!”
It was the Count Sir Guncelin,
His helm o’er his white neck flung;
That sound in the ear of his mother dear
Through the dark night-time rung.
The Dame awoke at black midnight,
And unto her Lord she cried:
“Now deign, now deign, thou highest God,
With my son in this fray to bide!”
The first course that together they rode,
So strong were the knightly twain,
Struck Guncelin Sir Ivor Blue,
And stretched him on the plain.
“Now listen, Count Sir Guncelin,
If thou’lt but let me live,
My young and newly wedded bride,
I unto thee will give.”