"The Seeland girl asks with fear, `Whose blood-bespattered shield and spear -- The earl's or king's -- up from the shore Moved on with many a warrior more?' We scoured through all their muddy lanes, Woodlands, and fields, and miry plains. Their hasty footmarks in the clay Showed that to Ringsted led their way.

"Spattered with mud from heel to head, Our gallant lord his true men led. Will Lund's earl halt his hasty flight, And try on land another fight? His banner yesterday was seen, The sand-bills and green trees between, Through moss and mire to the strand, In arrow flight, leaving the land."

Then Svein fled over to Fyen Island, and King Magnus carried fire and sword through Seeland, and burnt all round, because their men had joined Svein's troop in harvest. So says Thiodolf: --

"As Svein in winter had destroyed The royal house, the king employed No little force to guard the land, And the earl's forays to withstand. An armed band one morn he found, And so beset them round and round, That Canute's nephew quickly fled, Or he would have been captive led.

"Our Throndhjem king in his just ire Laid waste the land with sword and fire, Burst every house, and over all Struck terror into great and small. To the earl's friends he well repaid Their deadly hate -- such wild work made On them and theirs, that from his fury, Flying for life, away they hurry."

As soon as King Magnus heard that Svein with his troops had gone across to Fyen, he sailed after them; and when Svein heard this news he went on board ship and sailed to Scania, and from thence to Gautland, and at last to the Swedish King. King Magnus landed in Fyen, and plundered and burned over all; and all of Svein's men who came there fled far enough. Thiodolf speaks of it thus: --

"Fiona isle, once green and fair, Lies black and reeking through the air: The red fog rises, thick and hot, From burning farm and smouldering cot. The gaping thralls in terror gaze On the broad upward-spiring blaze, From thatched roofs and oak-built walls, Their murdered masters' stately halls.

"Svein's men, my girl, will not forget That thrice they have the Norsemen met, By sea, by land, with steel, with fire, Thrice have they felt the Norse king's ire. Fiona's maids are slim and fair, The lovely prizes, lads, we'll share: Some stand to arms in rank and row, Some seize, bring off, and fend with blow."