“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.
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.
“Here thou, Vitting Helfredson, Thou art a warrior bold; Thou shalt hie forward to Birting’s land, And demand the tribute gold.
“With thee shall Vidrik Verlandson, And Diderik knight of Bern; Of all my troop they are best at blows, And most for battle yearn.”
They set themselves upon their steeds, And away they rode like wind; The knights they roared, and their steeds they gored, For wroth were they in mind.