And next rode Hero Hogen,
He looked a rose so brave;
And then rode Folker Spillemand,
In his hand a naked glaive.
Then rode the bold young Ulf Van Yern,
A glorious horse upon;
Behind him young Sir Humble rode,
And then Sir Sigfredson.
And then rode Gunther and Gernot,
With arrow on bended bow;
And there rode Sonne Tolkerson,
With courage upon his brow.
There rode the little Grimmer,
In golden acton dight;
And there rode Seyer the active,
Who yields to none in might.
And then came master Hildebrand,
As though to his courser fixt;
The stalwart friar Alsing rode
The ancient hero next.
There rode Orm the Ungarswayne,
So bold of heart was he;
So joyous were they every one,
And sure of victory.
Out galloped they all from Brattingsborg,
As fast as they could speed;
But Vitting bold came running behind,
Because he had no steed.
It was hardy Angelfyr,
To Grimselin he cried:
“O, he must on his bare legs run
Who has no horse to ride!”
And still ran Vitting, and still ran he,
Till with wrath he nigh was wode;
Then he struck a warrior from his horse
And sat himself on, and rode.
It was Sir King Diderik,
He back a glance did throw:
“O yonder I see the courtier ride
Who on foot was wont to go.