There shines upon the eighth good shield
A gray wolf, meagre and gaunt;
Is borne by youthful Ulf van Jern;
Beware how him you taunt!
There shine upon the ninth good shield
Three arrows, and white are they;
Are borne by Vidrik Stageson,
And trust that gallant you may.
There shines upon the tenth good shield
A fiddle, and ’neath it a bow;
That’s borne by Folker Spillemand;
For drink he will sleep forego.
There shines upon the eleventh shield
A dragon that looks so dire;
Is carried by Orm, the youthful swain;
He trembles at no man’s ire.
And, now, behold the twelfth good shield,
And upon it a burning brand;
Is borne by stout Sir Vifferlin
Through many a prince’s land.
There stands upon the thirteenth shield
A sprig of the mournful yew;
That’s borne by Harrald Griskeson;
And he’s a comrade true.
There stand upon the fourteenth shield
A cloak, and a mighty staff;
And them bore Alsing, the stalwart monk,
When he beat his foes to chaff.
And now comes forth the fifteenth shield,
And upon it three naked blades
Are borne by good King Esmer’s sons,
In their wars and furious raids.
There stands upon the sixteenth shield,
With coal-black pinion, a crow;
That’s borne by rich Count Raadengaard;
The dark Runes well can he throw. [19]
There shines upon the seventeenth shield
A horse, so stately and high,
Is borne by Count Sir Guncelin;
“Slay! slay! bide not,” is his cry.