A noble maid awaits the knight,
The hand of the Monarch’s sister bright.
They liv’d together in honor and joy,
To the cruel Stepdame’s great annoy.
A hard flint rock she soon became,
For herself she earn’d both woe and shame.
TYGGE HERMANDSEN
Down o’er the isle in torrents fell
On a Thursday morn the rain;
To fetch his bride now forth shall ride
Sir Tygge Hermandsen.
Sir Tygge out of the window look’d,
The brooks ran boisterously;
“To ride out now would bring me woe,
So dear no bride I’ll buy.
“But hear thou, Nilaus Benditson,
Long shanks has thy good steed;
I beg for the love of the God above
You’ll fetch my bride with speed.”
Then answer’d Nilaus Benditson,
In his sleeve thus answer’d he:
“If me thou dispatch thy bride to fetch
I’ll trick thee certainly.”
It was Nilaus Benditson,
He rode the bride to meet;
There hung silk sheen and sendal green
Before his courser’s feet.
They clad themselves in silken cloth,
And in cloth of gold beside;
In long array to the Kirk their way
They took with the youthful bride.