man’s hill And works this ruin all? Let him fear for now I swear By Birting he shall fall.”

p. 10

“I am thy son, thy youngest son, Thy Orm, O father dear; To beg a boon in mighty need I come to seek thee here.”

“If thou art Orm my youngest son, The kempion bold and brave, Last year I gave to thee of gold, All, all thy heart could crave.”

“Last year you gave me store of gold On which I set no worth, Now I this year must Birting have, The bravest sword on earth.”

“Never shalt thou Birting get To win the Monarch’s daughter, Until to Ireland thou hast been To ’venge thy father’s slaughter.”

p. 11“Give to me the Birting sword, And with it bid me thrive, Or I the hill above thee will To thousand pieces rive.”

p. 11

“Stretch thou down thy hand and take My Birting from my side, But if thou break thy father’s hill Much woe will thee betide.”

He cast to him the sword, its point Appeared above the mould: “Save good fate on thee shall wait I ne’er shall be consol’d.”

He reached to him the sword, and placed Its hilt within his grasp: “Beneath its blows may all thy foes Before thee sink and grasp.”

Then took the sword Orm Ungerswayne, And on his shoulder plac’d; And to the Monarch’s hall he sped, As fast as he could haste.

p. 12It was the lofty Jutt of Bern With wrath was nearly wild: “It ill becomes a man like me To battle with a child.”

p. 12

“Although I be but little, Jutt, A fearless heart I keep, And oftentimes a little hand O’erturns a mighty heap.”

For two long days they fought, and when The third to evening tended, “Methinks,” exclaim’d the Berner Jutt,  “This fight will ne’er be ended.”

It was bold Orm Ungerswayne His good sword brandish’d he, And of the lofty Berner Jutt Asunder cut the knee.

Loud bellowed then the Berner Jutt, And loud he fell to ban: “It ne’er was warrior custom yet So low to strike one’s man.”

p. 13“I was 

 Prev. P 3/4 next