Forth stepped the Daughter of the Dwarf, For, ah! she loved the knight so dear: “And I will give thee a faulchion good, And I will give thee a polished spear. “Thou ne’er shalt ride through wood so wide But thou shalt surely find the way; And ne’er, Sir Knight, engage in fight But victory thou shalt bear away. “Thou never, never shalt sail the sea But in safety thou shalt come to land; Thou never, never shalt wounded be, I ween, by any human hand.” It was the proud Dame Thorelile, The clear wine into the cup she pour’d: “Now haste thee from the elfin hill, Ere home arrive the elfin Lord.” Sir Thunye rides in the good green wood, His spear it gleams so wide, so wide; And soon he meets the Dwarf himself, To his mountain home as the Dwarf would ride. “Well met, well met, Sir Thunye the Knight, Thy horse he speeds right gallantly; Say whither, whither dost thou ride? On journey bound thou seemst to be.” “Riding to woo, Sir Dwarf, I am, Riding to wed a beauteous lady; To break a spear I do not fear, For weal or woe alike I’m ready.” “Ride on thy way, Sir Thunye the Knight, Nought else than peace thou shalt have from me; In Upsal town a swain there lives Will willingly break a lance with thee.” Sir Thunye rides in Sweden’s land, Essay his fortune there would he; And there he found nine stalwart knights, Stood armed beneath the forest tree. Upon their heads their helms were placed, Their good shields glittered before their breasts; By their sides hung down their gilded swords, And their spears hung ready within the rests. “Halloo, ye Swedish champions nine! Say, will ye fight for honour now? Or will ye fight for ruddy gold, Or the ladies’ love for whom ye glow?” Then answered Allevod, the King’s son, High rose the pride his heart within: “Enough I have of honour and gold, No more of either need I win.” “There sits a maid in Upsal town, That maid is named proud Ermeline; By lance we’ll settle whose shall be That lovely maiden, mine or thine.” The first course that together they rode So furious were that knightly twain Asunder burst their shields of gold, And their broken spears flew o’er the plain. But now the second course they ride, And again they meet with a crash like thunder; Sir Allevod fell from his gilded selle, His sturdy neck-bone burst asunder. That vexed sore the Swedish knights, Their leader’s fall they fain would wrake; But fortune proved so stern and dour, The good knight’s faulchion drove them back. It was then the Swedish knights Their ruffled garb adjusted they; And unto the hall, the regal hall, To the Swedish King they took their way. “A Jutt is come to our land, Sir King, Armed and dight in elfin way; Of eight good knights the limbs he’s broke, Who strove with him in battle fray.