Holger, or Olger, Danske is the grandest national hero of Denmark.  There is a ballad, given by Weber, where he and Tidrek the Strong have a tremendous battle, and he comes off victor.  Moreoever, he has eaten of the fruit of the trees of the sun and moon, and has become immortal, and there he sits with his fellows in the vaults of the Castle of Kronberg, near which are two ponds, called his spectacles.  A peasant, with a ploughshare on his shoulders, once lost his way, and wandered in; he found a circle of tall old men in armour, all asleep round a stone table, with their heads resting on their crossed arms.  Holger Danske, who sat at the head of the table, raised his head and the stone broke asunder, for his beard had grown into the stone.  He asked his guest some questions about the upper world and dismissed him, offering his hand.  The peasant, dreading the gigantic grip of the old champion, gave his ploughshare.  "Ha! ha!" said Holger, as he felt its firmness, "it is well.  There are still men in Denmark.  Tell them that we shall come back when there are no more men left than can stand round one tun!"  But the ploughshare had been twisted round by his fingers.  Can this return of Holger be the Roger Bon Temps of the French peasantry?
     But Holger, though I have placed him among the Paladins, might have gone even farther back than the days of Dietrich.  See Haaloge. (History of Christian Names, Yonge, 1884)