And that is borne by Hogan, the less,
Because he will foremost be.

There shines upon the eighth good shield
A gray wolf, meagre and gaunt;
Is borne by youthful Ulf van Jern;
Beware how him you taunt!

There shine upon the ninth good shield
Three arrows, and white are they;
Are borne by Vidrik Stageson,
And trust that gallant you may.

There shines upon the tenth good shield
A fiddle, and 'neath it a bow;
That's borne by Folker Spillemand;
For drink he will sleep forego.

There shines upon the eleventh shield
A dragon that looks so dire;
Is carried by Orm, the youthful swain;
He trembles at no man's ire.

And, now, behold the twelfth good shield,
And upon it a burning brand;
Is borne by stout Sir Vifferlin
Through many a prince's land.

There stands upon the thirteenth shield
A sprig of the mournful yew;