“Either tribute thou shalt pay,
As thou didst last year agree,
Or thou shalt meet us in the field,
And bloodshed there shall be.”
“I will not tribute pay, forsooth,
I scorn to stoop so low;
Nay, rather unto Birting’s land
With sword unsheathed I go.”
Then answer’d Vitting Helfredson,
And loud he laughed with glee:
“If ye fare this year into Birting’s land
I too of the troop shall be.
“Last year wast thou in Birting’s land,
And there didst lose thy steed;
Thou hadst better stay in Brattingsborg
Than again seek Birting’s mead.”
“On me, if I stay in Brattingsborg,
Be every malison;
If I have no horse on which to ride
I have legs on which to run.”
There rode out from Brattingsborg
So many a knight renown’d;
The rocks were split ’neath the coursers’ feet,
And quaked the startled ground.
There rode forth King Diderik,
The lion upon his shield;
And there too glittered the golden crown
So far across the field.
There rode Vidrik Verlandson,
The hammer and tongs he bore;
And there rode good King Esmer’s sons,
All men of wondrous power.
There rode the rich Count Rodengard,
A warrior stout and fine;
And there rode King Sir Sigfred, who
Displayed a monarch’s sign.
Then followed Siward Snarenswayne,
With many arrows white;
And then came Brand Sir Viferlin,
Who never fled from fight.