Since he went away, and wept, and gave me the ring;
“If I do not return from war, but there lay my head,
This ring shall remind you aye of your true love.”
Early this morning the ring on my finger broke.
Doubtless the raven croaks, perching upon his head!
I will to the fortune-teller—“Young am I, but sad;
Read me the sign of the ring. I fear that some evil comes.”
· · · · ·
“There is no good news here; this that you see means blood!”
· · · · ·