Burman in the mountain holds,
Makes his shield shine brightly there;
A message he sends to Iceland’s King,
For he has a daughter fair.
“Hear, good King of Iceland, hear,
Hear what now I say to thee:
Give to me thy daughter fair,
And divide thy land with me.
“Either yield thy daughter fair,
And divide with me thy land,
Or the warrior good prepare
Who in fight can me withstand.”
“I have daughter none but one,
Damsel Gloriant her they call;
To King Carvel she’s betrothed,
And in him my trust is all.
“I have given her to a King
And King Carvel hight is he;
If he fail to defend the maid,
Then thy booty she shall be.”
’Twas the King of Iceland good,
To his daughter’s bower he goes;
And the Damsel Gloriant
To receive him gently rose.
“Hear, all dearest daughter mine,
For I bring thee tidings new;
Burman in the mountain holds,
He would win thee and doth woo.
“Burman is a kempion dour,
And of jesting nought he knows;
He will surely have thee soon,
If no warrior him oppose.”
It was Damsel Gloriant,
Silent would no longer stand:
“In our tower a prisoner is
Who will Burman take in hand.”
It was Damsel Gloriant,
Her blue mantle o’er her threw;
Swiftly to the prison tower,
Where the prisoners lay she flew.