And when the gallant lion heard
The King bewail his hap:
“Stand fast, good lord,” the lion roared,
“While with my claws I scrap.”
The lion scrapp’d, King Diderik hewed,
Bright sparks the gloom relieved;
Unless the beast had the knight released
He’d soon to death have grieved.
So when he had slain the laidly worm,
And her offspring all had kill’d;
Escaped the knight to the morning light,
With heavy cuirass and shield.
And when he had now come out of the hill
For his gallant courser he sighed;
With reason good he trust him could,
For they had each other tried.
“O there’s no need to bewail the steed,
Which thou, Sir King, hast miss’d;
I am thy friend, my back ascend,
And ride where’er thou list.”
So he rode o’er the deepest dales,
And o’er the verdant meads;
The knight he rode, the lion strode,
Through the dim forest glades.
The lion and King Diderik
Together thenceforth remain;
Each death had braved, and the other saved
From peril sore and pain.
Where’er King Diderik rode in the fields
The lion beside him sped;
When on the ground the knight sat down
In his bosom he laid his head.
Wherefore they call him the lion knight
With fame that name he bore;
Their love so great did ne’er abate
Until their dying hour.