There stands upon the sixteenth shield, With coal-black pinion, a crow; That's borne by rich Count Raadengaard; The dark Runes well can he throw. {f:19} There shines upon the seventeenth shield A horse, so stately and high, Is borne by Count Sir Guncelin; "Slay! slay! bide not," is his cry. There shine upon the eighteenth shield A man, and a fierce wild boar, Are borne by the Count of Lidebierg; His blows fall heavy and sore. There shines upon the nineteenth shield A hound, at the stretch of his speed; Is borne by Oisten Kiaempe, bold; He risks his neck without heed. There shines upon the twentieth shield, Among branches, a rose, so gay; Wherever Sir Nordman comes in war, He bears bright honour away. There shines on the one-and-twentieth shield A vase, and of copper 't is made; That's borne by Mogan Sir Olgerson; He wins broad lands with his blade. And now comes forth the next good shield, With a sun dispelling the mirk; And that by Asbiorn Milde is borne; He sets the knights' backs at work. {f:20} There shines on the three-and-twentieth shield An arm, in a manacle bound; And that by Alvor Sir Lange is borne, To the heroes he hands mead round. Now comes the four-and-twentieth shield, And a bright sword there you see; And that by Humble Sir Jerfing is borne; Full worthy of that is he. There shines upon the next good shield A goss-hawk, striking his game; That's borne by a knight, the best of all-- Sir Iver Blaa is his name. Now comes the six-and-twentieth shield, A jav'lin there you spy; Is borne by little Mimring Tan; From no one will he fly. Such knights and bearings as were there, And who can them all relate; It was Sivard, the Snaresvend; No longer he deign'd to wait. "If there be one of the Dane king's men, Who at Dyst {f:21} is willing to ride, Let him, I pray, without pause or delay, Meet me by the wild wood's side. "The man among you, ye Danish court men, Who at Dyst has won most meeds; Him I am ready to fight, this day, For both of our noble steeds." The heroes cast the die on the board; The die it roll'd so wide: "Since, young Sir Humble, it stops by thee, 'Gainst Sivard thou must ride." Sir Humble struck his hand on the board; No longer he lists to play: I tell you, forsooth, that the rosy hue From his cheek fast faded away. "Now, hear me, Vidrik Verlandson; Thou art so free a man; Do lend me Skimming, thy horse, this day; I'll pledge for him what I can: "Eight good castles, in Birting's land, As pledges for him I'll set; My sister too, the lily-cheek'd maid, A fairer thou ne'er hast met: "Eight good castles, and eight good knights; I'd scorn to offer thee less: If Skimming should meet any hurt this day, My sister thou shalt caress." "If yonder mountains all were gold, And yonder streams were wine; The whole for Skimming I would not take; I bless God he is mine.