Diderik and Olger the Dane

With his eighteen brothers Diderik stark Dwells in the hills of Bern; And each I wot twelve sons has got, For manly feats they yearn.

He has twelve sisters, each of them A dozen sons can show; Thirteen the youngest, gallant lads, Of fear who nothing know.

To stand before the King a crowd Of giant bodies move; I say to ye forsooth their heads O’ertopped the beechen grove.

“With knights of pride we war have plied For many, many a year; Of Olger, who in Denmark reigns, Such mighty things we hear.

“Men talk so fain of Olger Dane Who dwells in Jutland’s fields; Crowned is his head with gold so red, No tribute us he yields.”

Then Swerting took a mace, and shook That mace right furiously: “From ten times ten of Olger’s men I would not look to flee!”

“Hark, Swerting, hark, of visage dark, Esteem them not so little; I’d have thee ken that Olger’s men Are knights of gallant mettle.

“They feel no fright for faulchions, For arrows no dismay; The desperate fight is their delight, They deem it children’s play.”

Then cried the mighty man of Bern, When pondered long had he: “To Denmark we will wend, and learn At home if Olger be.”

They took their route from Berner land, They eighteen thousand were; King Olger good they visit would, And to Denmark all repair.

A messenger by Diderik sent To Danish Olger goes: “Say, will ye tribute pay to us, Or with us bandy blows?”

Then full of wrath King Olger grew, Such speech he could not bear: “Let Diderik meet us on the wold, We’ll battle with him there.

“Tribute to pay each Dane would scorn, He’s wont himself to take it; Our tribute ye will like but ill, If ye come here to seek it.”

His kemps then gathering in a ring The news to them he told: “Bern’s haughty lord has sent us word That he’ll have tribute-gold.

“He’ll either tribute have, or hold With us a bloody feud; But the first King he will not be We have this year subdued.”

Then cried in scorn a kempion good, King Diderik’s envoy to: “To waste our home if Berners come They all hence out won’t go.”

Soon as the news he heard, full glad Was Ulf Van Yern, and gay; Then laughed outright bold Hogen knight: “Too long do they delay.”

It was Vidrik Verlandson, High beat with joy his heart; Then said amain Orm Ungerswayne: “To meet them let us start.”

“The first man I’ll be in the van,” Sir Ivor Blue he cried: “Nor shall ye say that I was last,” Sir Kulden Gray replied.

King Olger on the verdant wold With Diderik battle join’d; To fight they went, no jest they meant, So wroth were they in mind.

Endured for three long days the fray, And flinch would neither side; To help his lord each Dane his sword In desperation plied.

Down ran the blood, like raging flood Which ’neath steep hills doth pour; Then tribute they were forced to pay Who tribute asked before.

Rose in the sky the blood-reek high, And dimmed the lustrous sun; ’Twas sad to spy the brave men lie So thick the earth upon.

In gore lay thick both men and steeds, Dear friends were parted there; All did not laugh the feast who sought, Too hot they found the fare.

Now tamer grown, the Berner Jutt Thought thus himself within: “Of us a hundred scarce remain, We cannot hope to win.”

Then took he to his heels and ran, Not often back looked he; To say good night forgot Swerting quite, For Bern, for Bern they flee.

Then Diderik turned him with a shout That shook the vaulted skies: “Bern, Bern’s the place for us, I guess, For here no refuge lies!”

Then answered ’neath the green hill’s side The son of Verland keen: “Ye and your host will little boast Ye have in Denmark been.”

Full eighteen thousand knights were they When out they marched from Bern; Wounded and worn but seventy-five With drooping crests, return.