There stand upon the fourteenth shield
A cloak, and a mighty staff;
And them bore Alsing, the stalwart monk,
When he beat his foes to chaff.
And now comes forth the fifteenth shield,
And upon it three naked blades
Are borne by good King Esmer's sons,
In their wars and furious raids.
There stands upon the sixteenth shield,
With coal-black pinion, a crow;
That's borne by rich Count Raadengaard;
The dark Runes well can he throw. {f:19}
There shines upon the seventeenth shield
A horse, so stately and high,
Is borne by Count Sir Guncelin;
"Slay! slay! bide not," is his cry.
There shine upon the eighteenth shield
A man, and a fierce wild boar,
Are borne by the Count of Lidebierg;
His blows fall heavy and sore.
There shines upon the nineteenth shield
A hound, at the stretch of his speed;
Is borne by Oisten Kiaempe, bold;
He risks his neck without heed.
There shines upon the twentieth shield,
Among branches, a rose, so gay;
Wherever Sir Nordman comes in war,
He bears bright honour away.
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