A wild swine sat on his shoulders broad, Upon his bosom a black bear snor'd;
And about his fingers, with hair o'erhung, The squirrel sported, and weasel clung.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
"Now, Brute-carl, yield thy booty to me, Or I will take it by force from thee.
Say, wilt thou quickly thy beasts forego, Or venture with me to bandy a blow?
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
"Much rather, much rather, I'll fight with thee, Than thou my booty should'st get from me;
I never was bidden the like to do, Since good King Esmer in fight I slew."
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
"And did'st thou slay King Esmer fine?
Why, then thou slewest dear father mine;
And soon, full soon, shalt thou pay for him, With the flesh hackt off from thy every limb!"
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
They drew a circle upon the sward;
They both were dour, as the rocks are hard;
Forsooth, I tell you, their hearts were steel'd, -
The one to the other no jot would yield.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
They fought for a day,--they fought for two, -
And so on the third they were fain to do;
But ere the fourth day reach'd the night, The Brute-carl fell, and was slain outright.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
Svend Vonved binds his sword to his side, Farther and farther he lists to ride:
He rode at the foot of a hill so steep, There saw he a herd as he drove the sheep.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
"Now tell me, Herd, and tell me fair, Whose are the sheep thou art driving there?
And what is rounder than a wheel?
And where do they eat the holiest meal?"
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
"Where does the fish stand up in the flood?
And where is the bird that's redder than blood?
Where do they mingle the best, best, wine?
And where with his knights does Vidrik dine?"
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
There sat the herd, he sat in thought;
To ne'er a question he answer'd aught.
Svend gave him a stroke, a stroke so sore, That his lung and his liver came out before.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
On, on went he, till more sheep he spied;
The herd sat, too, by a deep pit's side.
"Now tell me, Herd, and tell me fair, Whose are the sheep thou art tending there?"
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
"See yonder house, with turret and tower, There feasting serves to beguile the hour;
There dwells a man, Tygge Nold by name, With his twelve fair sons, who are knights of fame."
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
"Enough, Sir Herd; now lend an ear -
Go, tell Tygge Nold to come out here."
From his breast Svend Vonved a gold ring drew;
At the foot of the herd the gold ring he threw.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
And as Svend Vonved approach'd the spot, His booty among them they 'gan to allot.
Some would have his polish'd glaive, Others, his harness, or courser brave.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
Svend Vonved stops, in reflection deep;
He thought it best he his horse should keep:
His hauberk and faulchion he will not lose, Much rather to fight the youth will choose.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
"Had'st thou twelve sons to the twelve thou hast, And cam'st in the midst of them charging me fast, Sooner should'st thou wring water from steel, Than thou in such fashion with me should'st deal.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
He prick'd with his spur his courser tall, Which sprang, at once, over the gate and wall.
Tygge Nold there he has stretch'd in blood, And his twelve sons too, that beside him stood.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
Then turn'd he his steed, in haste, about, -
Svend Vonved, the knight, so youthful and stout;
Forward he went o'er mountain and moor, No mortal he met, which vex'd him sore.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
He came, at length, to another flock, Where a herd sat combing his yellow lock:
"Now listen, Herd, with the fleecy care;
Listen, and give me answers fair."
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
"What is rounder than a wheel?
Where do they eat the holiest meal?
Where does the sun go down to his seat?
And where do they lay the dead man's feet?"
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
"What fills the valleys one and all?
What is cloth'd best in the monarch's hall?
What cries more loud than cranes can cry?
And what can in whiteness the swan outvie?
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
"Who on his back his beard does wear?
Who 'neath his chin his nose does bear?
What's more black than the blackest sloe?
And what is swifter than a roe?
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
"Where is the bridge that is most broad?
What is, by man, the most abhorr'd?
Where leads, where leads, the highest road up?
And say, where the hottest of drink they sup."
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
"The sun is rounder than a wheel.
They eat at the altar the holiest meal.
The sun in the West goes down to his seat:
And they lay to the East the dead man's feet.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
"Snow fills the valleys, one and all.
Man is cloth'd best in the monarch's hall.
Thunder cries louder than cranes can cry.
Angels in whiteness the swan outvie.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
"His beard on his back the lapwing wears.
His nose 'neath his chin the elfin bears.
More black is sin than the blackest sloe:
And thought is swifter than any roe.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
"Ice is, of bridges, the bridge most broad.
