‘Yea even if my blood thou see,
Name me not, lest my death thou be.’
Out from the door lord Hildebrand leapt,
And round about his good sword swept.
The first of all that he slew there
Were my seven brethren with golden hair.
Then before him stood the youngest one,
And dear he was in the days agone.
Then I cried out: ‘O Hildebrand,
In the name of God now stay thine hand.
‘O let my youngest brother live
Tidings hereof to my mother to give!’
No sooner was the word gone forth
Than with eight wounds fell my love to earth.
My brother took me by the golden hair,
And bound me to the saddle there.
There met me then no littlest root,
But it tore off somewhat of my foot.
No littlest brake the wild-wood bore,
But somewhat from my legs it tore.