“What reck I of your wenches, or your serving-maids so gay?
I have mine own true sweetheart, that’s fairer far than they!
I say it, Dalebo Jonsen!”
THE LUCK OF THE LINDEN-TREE
Of two true-lovers this tale I tell,
That loved each other long and well.
(We tread the dance so featly.)
Their love it nourished as fair and free
As the branch grows green on the linden-tree.
The knight to other lands must roam—
The lady, she must bide at home.
“I’ll plant a linden by thy bower,
Leaves that beareth, and many a flower.
“And when the linden sheds its leaves,
Then shalt thou know thy true-love grieves.
“And when the tree its flowers hath shed,
Then shalt thou know thy love is dead.”
When night was done and dawn was grey
The lady looked upon the brae.
“God bless the tree, so green it grows!
Well fares my love, where’er he goes!”