XXX.

That brag his stout heart cou'd na bide, It lent him youthfu' micht: "I'm Hardyknute; this day, he cry'd, 235 To Scotland's king I heght[500] To lay thee low, as horses hoof; My word I mean to keep." Syne with the first stroke e'er he strake, He garr'd[501] his body bleed. 240