The lord who came from Ortland, Ortwin, brave and young

The lord who came from Ortland, Ortwin, brave and young, Showed the hand of a warrior; it was on many a tongue, That never man in warfare bore himself more boldly: Wounds he gave the deepest, and this by none was ever told of coldly.

For twelve long days of fighting, earnestly they strove. The men led on by Hettel oft their spear-shafts drove Thro’ their foes’ light bucklers, as close they met together: The fighters proud from Moorland sorely rued the day that brought them thither.

Upon the thirteenth morning, ere early mass was said, With sorry heart spake Siegfried: “How many here lie dead Of all our bravest warriors! In his lofty wooing The king of Sealand also here to himself has evil great been doing.”

Then to the men of Karadie made he known his will, To a stronghold to betake them, there their wounds to heal: They, with those from Alzabie, were earnest to go thither; Right glad were these far-riders that all in death might not be found together.

Then to a sheltering castle to turn they all began, Where onward, fast beside it, a wide, deep river ran. While they were thither riding, fleeing away from danger, They were still seen fighting with those who ne’er would yield their homes to a stranger.

Now against King Hettel the king of Moorland rode: Well might one believe it, his former warlike mood Was but a slight beginning; he soon a foe was meeting Who many of his kinsmen with deep and deadly wounds of late was greeting.

Hettel, he of the Hegelings, and Siegfried, the Moorland king, There unto the struggle all their strength did bring; Shields were hacked to pieces by the swords they wielded: The mighty lord of Moorland to the castle fled, nor to him of Daneland yielded.

Camps by the men from Denmark for themselves were made: Then the beleaguered warriors,— it cannot be gainsaid,— E’er many days were over, with care were burdened sadly; However good their shelter, all would then have been at home more gladly.

Thus the boastful fighters were by the foeman’s hand Fast held within the stronghold; nor was their knightly band Now able to give battle, although for this yet longing. Their castle well they guarded, as best they might, wherein they now were thronging.