“Then speed thee, knight, with thee is right,
Avenge the heart which loves thee dear;
On earthly shore though we meet no more,
We shall meet again in the sky so clear.”
PART III.
There’s many I ween in Denmark green
Who all to be masters now desire;
To Ribe old their course they hold,
And there they buy them strange attire.
There they prepare such clothes as wear
The holy Monks of orders grey,
And this they’ve done in the hope alone
Their liege and sovereign to betray.
They watch’d him sly, they watch’d him nigh,
Whether the King went down or up;
But best they sped, in the hour so dread,
When the King would ride to Tinderup.
The cause of the same was an injur’d Dame,
Bold Stig the Marshal’s lovely wife;
With Ranild a plot she up has got
Which cost King Erik his youthful life.
Ranild the loon, her sister’s son,
Ranild who serv’d King Erik near,
Tells him with art of hind and hart,
And of silvan game to the hunter dear.
“To thee I can show both buck and doe
Within the bonny green wood that play;
With greyhounds tried we forth will ride,
Sir King, not distant is the way.”
Then Erik he bade his serving lad
To saddle him straight his good grey steed;
“To Jutland’s Ting will ride your King,
And see how things in Jutland speed.”
And he order gave to his courtiers brave
That they should before to Viborg hie;
No thought he had that Ranild the lad
Was brooding a subtle treachery.