This is one of those Ballads which, from the days of Arild, have been much sung in Denmark: we find in it the names and bearings of most of those renowned heroes, who are mentioned separately in other poems. It divides itself into two parts;--the first, which treats of the warrior's bearings, has a great resemblance to the 178th chapter of the Vilkina Saga, as likewise has the last part, wherein the Duel is described, to the 180th and 181st chapters of the same.
I cannot here forbear quoting and translating what Anders Sorensen Vedel, the good old Editor of the first Edition of the Kiaempe Viser, which appeared in 1591, says concerning the apparently superhuman performances of the heroes therein celebrated.
"Hvad ellers Kiaempernes Storlemhed Styrke og anden Vilkaar berorer, som overgaaer de Menneskers der nu leve deres Vaext og Kraft, det Stykke kan ikke her noksom nu forhandles, men skal i den Danske Kronikes tredie Bog videligere omtales. Thi det jo i Sandhed befindes og bevises af adskillige Documenter og Kundskab, at disse gamle Hellede, som de kaldes, have levet fast laenger, og vaeret mandeligere storre staerkere og hoiere end den gemene Mand er, som nu lever paa denne Dag."
"That part which relates to these Warriors' size, strength, or other qualities, so far surpassing the stature and powers of the men who now exist, cannot be here sufficiently treated upon, but shall be further discussed in the third Book of the Danish Chronicles: for, in truth, it is discovered and proved from various documents and sources, that these old heroes, as they are called, lived much longer, and were manlier, stouter, stronger, and taller, than man at the present day."
Six score there were, six score and ten, From Hald that rode that day;
And when they came to Brattingsborg They pitch'd their pavilion gay.
King Nilaus stood on the turret's top, Had all around in sight:
"Why hold those heroes their lives so cheap, That it lists them here to fight?
"Now, hear me, Sivard Snaresvend;
Far hast thou rov'd, and wide, Those warriors' weapons thou shalt prove, To their tent thou must straightway ride."
It was Sivard Snaresvend, To the broad tent speeded he then:
"I greet ye fair, in my master's name, All, all, ye Dane king's men.
"Now, be not wroth that here I come;
I come as a warrior, free:
The battle together we soon will prove;
Let me your bearings see."
There stands upon the first good shield A lion, so fierce and stark, With a crown on his head, of the ruddy gold, That is King Diderik's mark.
There shine upon the second shield A hammer and pincers bright;
Them carries Vidrik Verlandson, Ne'er gives he quarter in fight.
There shines upon the third good shield A falcon, blazing with gold;
And that by Helled Hogan is borne;
No knight, than he, more bold.
There shines upon the fourth good shield An eagle, and that is red;
Is borne by none but Olger, the Dane;
He strikes his foemen dead.
There shines upon the fifth good shield A couchant hawk, on a wall;
That's borne by Master Hildebrand;
He tries, with heroes, a fall.
And now comes forth the sixth good shield A linden is thereupon;
And that by young Sir Humble is borne, King Abelon's eldest son.
There shines upon the seventh good shield A spur, of a fashion so free;
And that is borne by Hogan, the less, Because he will foremost be.
There shines upon the eighth good shield A gray wolf, meagre and gaunt;
Is borne by youthful Ulf van Jern;
Beware how him you taunt!
There shine upon the ninth good shield Three arrows, and white are they;
Are borne by Vidrik Stageson, And trust that gallant you may.
There shines upon the tenth good shield A fiddle, and 'neath it a bow;
That's borne by Folker Spillemand;
For drink he will sleep forego.
There shines upon the eleventh shield A dragon that looks so dire;
Is carried by Orm, the youthful swain;
He trembles at no man's ire.
And, now, behold the twelfth good shield, And upon it a burning brand;
Is borne by stout Sir Vifferlin Through many a prince's land.
There stands upon the thirteenth shield A sprig of the mournful yew;
That's borne by Harrald Griskeson;
And he's a comrade true.
There stand upon the fourteenth shield A cloak, and a mighty staff;
And them bore Alsing, the stalwart monk, When he beat his foes to chaff.
And now comes forth the fifteenth shield, And upon it three naked blades Are borne by good King Esmer's sons, In their wars and furious raids.
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.
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;
