In her arms the young Stig she so fondly did press,
But quiet he lay nor returned her caress.
Child Stig he awoke, and cast up his eyes:
“Who wakes me from sleep in this manner?” he cries.
“If I cannot, Rigissa, my rest for thee take,
To the Dane King, thy brother, complaint I will make.”
“O thou may’st complain if thou feelest inclin’d,
But thou art the man on whom standeth my mind.”
The very next morning ere high was the sun,
Child Stig to complain to the Dane King is gone.
“Dear Lord, I have this to complain of to thee,
For thy sister at night I at rest cannot be.”
The King in displeasure his footboy address’d:
“To come to my presence my sister request.”
Rigissa came in, ’fore the table stood she:
“What mean’st thou, O brother, by sending for me?”
“O here is a knight doth complaint of thee make,
He cannot at night his repose for thee take.”
“It is but God’s truth that his chamber I sought,
But nothing unseemly betwixt us was wrought.