his spur his courser tall,
Which sprang, at once, over the gate and wall.
Tygge Nold there he has stretch'd in blood,
And his twelve sons too, that beside him stood.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

Then turn'd he his steed, in haste, about,--
Svend Vonved, the knight, so youthful and stout;
Forward he went o'er mountain and moor,
No mortal he met, which vex'd him sore.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

He came, at length, to another flock,
Where a herd sat combing his yellow lock:
"Now listen, Herd, with the fleecy care;
Listen, and give me answers fair."
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

"What is rounder than a wheel?
Where do they eat the holiest meal?
Where does the sun go down to his seat?
And where do they lay the dead man's feet?"
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

"What fills the valleys one and all?
What is cloth'd best in the monarch's hall?
What cries more loud than cranes can cry?
And what can in whiteness the swan outvie?
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

"Who on his back his beard does wear?
Who 'neath his chin his nose does bear?
What's more black than the blackest sloe?
And what is swifter than a roe?
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

"Where is the bridge that is most broad?
What is, by man, the most abhorr'd?
Where leads, where leads, the highest road up?
And say, where the hottest of drink they sup."
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

"The sun is rounder than a wheel.
They eat at the altar the holiest meal.
The sun in the West goes down to his seat:
And they lay to the East the dead man's feet.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

"Snow fills the valleys, one and all.
Man is cloth'd best in the monarch's hall.
Thunder cries louder than cranes can cry.
Angels in whiteness the swan outvie.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

"His beard on his back the lapwing wears.
His nose 'neath his chin the elfin bears. {f:14}
More black is sin than the blackest sloe:
And thought is swifter than any roe.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

"Ice is, of bridges, the bridge most broad.
The toad is, of all things, the most abhorr'd.
To paradise leads the highest road up:
And in hell the hottest of drink they sup."
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

"Now hast thou given me answers fair,
To each and all of my questions rare;
And now, I pray thee, be my guide,
To the nearest spot where warriors bide."
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

"To Sonderborg