ereout or therein
Withouten toll cannot hope to win."
_Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.

"How should we so much steel obtain,
As to bind therewith the land and main?
O Madam! some mercy and kindness shew,
Or expect the curse of the people now."
_Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.

"To Ribe, to winter there, we'll depart,
There smiths we shall find well skilled in their art;
Both locks and keys will we have made,
And toeen and iron palisade."
_Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.

"Faggot and coal shall the boor give free,
The smith shall work without thanks or fee.
My Lord, be persuaded, I rede ye do,
Much benefit thence shall to thee accrue."
_Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.

"My father was King in the land before me,
And a King for his father also had he;
The Kings of the Danes to live contrive
Without Boor and Burger skinning alive."
_Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.

"Sir, what would a peasant more
Than a latticed window and wicker door?
What shall a peasant keep in his stall
Save one draught ox and a cow withall?
_Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.

"Each peasant's wife of a son made light
Shall give me an ounce of gold so bright;
But if to a daughter birth she give,
Only the half I'm content to receive."
_Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.

The King he turned on his other side,
He'd heard enough to suffice for that tide.
As soon as sleep his brow came o'er,
Dagmar he thought stood his face before.
_Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.

"The bitter flower, Sir King, you hold,
Brings you trouble, as I foretold.
Be sure if this year you seek the fray,
You suffer not Berngerd at home to stay.
_Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.

"If she with her flatteries blind your eyes,
The child will weep in the cradle that lies.
Take her with you, I rede and beseech,
How that will boot you time will teach."
_Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.

The King has proclaimed through the whole country,
To the war with him each tenth man should hie.
"My dearest Lady, worthy thou art
In the field of honour to bear a part."
_Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.

The first shaft shot on the battle day
To the heart of Berngerd found its way;
No soul was seen with a tearful eye--
Who for Berngerd would sorrow or sigh?
_Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.

Now lies Berngerd in the cold black ground,
Oxen are still in the Boor's stall found.
Berngerd she lies 'neath the dingy sward,
The Danes their Monarch love and regard.
_Woe befall her_, _