Sir Oluf he rideth over the plain,
       &nbsp Full seven miles broad and seven miles wide,
But never, ah never can meet with the man
       &nbsp A tilt with him dare ride.

He saw under the hillside
       &nbsp A Knight full well equipped;
His steed was black, his helm was barred;
       &nbsp He was riding at full speed.

He wore upon his spurs
       &nbsp Twelve little golden birds;
Anon he spurred his steed with a clang,
       &nbsp And there sat all the birds and sang.

He wore upon his mail
       &nbsp Twelve little golden wheels;
Anon in eddies the wild wind blew,
       &nbsp And round and round the wheels they flew.

He wore before his breast
       &nbsp A lance that was poised in rest;
And it was sharper than diamond-stone,
       &nbsp It made Sir Oluf's heart to groan.

He wore upon his helm
       &nbsp A wreath of ruddy gold;
And that gave him the Maidens Three,
       &nbsp The youngest was fair to behold.
Sir Oluf questioned the Knight eftsoon
       &nbsp If he were come from heaven down;
"Art thou Christ of Heaven," quoth he,
       &nbsp "So will I yield me unto thee."

"I am not Christ the Great,
       &nbsp Thou shalt not yield thee yet;
I am an Unknown Knight,
       &nbsp Three modest Maidens have me bedight."

"Art thou a Knight elected,
       &nbsp And have three Maidens thee bedight
So shalt thou ride a tilt this day,
       &nbsp For all the Maidens' honor!"

The first tilt they together rode
       &nbsp They put their steeds to the test,
The second tilt they together rode,
       &nbsp They proved their manhood best.

The third tilt they together rode,
       &nbsp Neither of them would yield;
The fourth tilt they together rode,
       &nbsp They both fell on the field.

Now lie the lords upon the plain,
       &nbsp And their blood runs unto death;
Now sit the Maidens in the high tower,
       &nbsp The youngest sorrows till death.