King Diderik sits on Brattingsborg,
And round he looks with pride:
“No one I know of in the world
Would me in fight abide.”
Then answered Brand Sir Viferlin,
Had been in many a land:
“Methinks I know a warrior stout
Would thee in fight withstand.
“He’s Ifald call’d, a king is he,
In Birting’s land afar;
And he has fellows following him
With savage wolves who war.
“O he has fellows following him
’Gainst teeth of bears who fight;
The food in which he most delights
Is flesh of Christian wight.
“Every day in the East that dawns
His mouth he’s wont to cool
With serpents, toads, and other filth,
That come from the hellish pool.”
As Ifald sat on his throne that day
He thus was heard to cry:
“Let some one bid my little foot page
To come to me instantly.
“Now list to me, thou little foot page,
On my errand thee I’ll send
Unto the King of Brattingsborg,
To whom I am no friend.
“Tell him that he must tribute pay,
Or for bloody war prepare;
Forsooth if him in the field I meet
I him will little spare.”
Then answered straight the little foot page
And a gallant answer he gave:
“My Lord thy message I’ll carry forth,
Though they lay me in my grave.”
In came he, the little foot page,
And stood before the board:
“Now list to me, King Diderik,
My master has sent you word.