Up and spake the little maid
In kirtle red;
“Hast heard, hast heard, my gracious dame,
What the King said?”
“So newly have I here begun
The merry dance to trace,
The King right well may tarry
A little space!”
Up and spake the little lad
In purple weed;
“The King o’ Danes is riding home—
Take heed, take heed!”
Shame fall on haughty Hagen
And all his lore!
The Queen sits in the ladies’ bower,
And sighs so sore.
(So daintily danced he, Hagen!)
THE LOWLY SQUIRE
Seven long years as a lowly squire
I served mine own liege-lord;
But of his daughter fair to see
They told me never a word.
(And is she glad, then I rejoice.)
Ne’er did I hear a word of her,
Nor see the lovely lass,
Till Easter-day in the morning
When she should go to Mass.
Thus it went from Easter
All unto Whitsuntide;
The maiden donned her fairest weed
Unto the kirk to ride.
The maiden donned her fairest weed
Unto the kirk to ride;
I set my saddle on my steed
And went at the maiden’s side