Svend Vonved stops, in reflection deep;
He thought it best he his horse should keep:
His hauberk and faulchion he will not lose,
Much rather to fight the youth will choose.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

"Had'st thou twelve sons to the twelve thou hast,
And cam'st in the midst of them charging me fast,
Sooner should'st thou wring water from steel,
Than thou in such fashion with me should'st deal.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

He prick'd with 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.