“I’m not at the head of so many swords,
That I can check thee when thou wouldst pass;
But a little lever, if us’d but clever,
Can overturn a weighty mass.”
Then away rode he the young Marsk Stig,
To Ingeborga’s bower repairing:
“Now welcome thrice, Marsk Stig,” she cries,
“I’ve heard of Marsk Stig’s manly bearing.
“Fear not the King nor all his might,
Of courage high he has no spark;
Throughout the state he’s won the hate
Of every layman, priest, and clerk.
“I have a loving nephew got
Who waits the traitor King upon;
He’ll be our spy, and privily
Will send us word when the King’s alone.
“And when ye’ve slain the brutal pard
Who in drink and slumber finds delight,
By ye will stand of Norway land
The King so bold with his men of might.
“If thou on Helm a fortress build
It ne’er can be won by human hands,
From its brow so high you may Sealand spy,
Jutland, and other lesser lands.
“Whilst thou dost live thou a knight shalt be,
But my grief for me is far too strong;
So blythe my breath I’ll yield to death
When Marshal Stig has aveng’d my wrong.
“I ne’er have peace nor gladness known
Since tyrant Glepping’s deed of force;
May Jesus bless with good success
My gallant Stig in his gallant course.
“And bless our daughters’ youthful blood,
Oft, full oft on their fate I ponder;
Much I fear when I’m gone from here,
Far and wide they’ll have to wander.
“An action high shall never die,
Whatever dastard lips may say;
’Twill wake up bold from out the mould
And boldly speak on the judgment day.