There shine upon the eighteenth shield
A man, and a fierce wild boar,
Are borne by the Count of Lidebierg;
His blows fall heavy and sore.
There shines upon the nineteenth shield
A hound, at the stretch of his speed;
Is borne by Oisten Kiæmpe, bold;
He risks his neck without heed.
There shines upon the twentieth shield,
Among branches, a rose, so gay;
Wherever Sir Nordman comes in war,
He bears bright honour away.
There shines on the one-and-twentieth shield
A vase, and of copper ’t is made;
That’s borne by Mogan Sir Olgerson;
He wins broad lands with his blade.
And now comes forth the next good shield,
With a sun dispelling the mirk;
And that by Asbiorn Mildé is borne;
He sets the knights’ backs at work. [20]
There shines on the three-and-twentieth shield
An arm, in a manacle bound;
And that by Alvor Sir Langé is borne,
To the heroes he hands mead round.
Now comes the four-and-twentieth shield,
And a bright sword there you see;
And that by Humble Sir Jerfing is borne;
Full worthy of that is he.
There shines upon the next good shield
A goss-hawk, striking his game;
That’s borne by a knight, the best of all—
Sir Iver Blaa is his name.
Now comes the six-and-twentieth shield,
A jav’lin there you spy;
Is borne by little Mimring Tan;
From no one will he fly.
Such knights and bearings as were there,
And who can them all relate;
It was Sivard, the Snaresvend;
No longer he deign’d to wait.