“Proud Ingeborg, hear what I say unto thee:
What hast done with my daughter? declare that to me!”
“But yesterday ’twas that with sorrowful mind,
Her corse to the arms of the grave we consign’d.”
“Proud Ingeborg, hush thee, nor talk in this guise,
But show me the grave where my dear daughter lies.”
As soon as Dame Mettelil o’er the place trod,
Proud Lyborg she screamed underneath the green sod.
“Whoever will gold and will silver obtain,
Let him help me to dig now with might and with main.”
They took up proud Lyborg, all there as she lay,
Her mother flung o’er her the scarlet array.
“Now tell to me, Lyborg, thou child of my heart,
Since restored to the arms of thy mother thou art,
“What death to thy thinking should Ingeborg thole,
For placing thee living in horrid grave-hole?”
“To destroy my young life it is true, she was bent,
But let her live, mother, and let her repent.”
“That she go unpunished I cannot permit,
I’ll teach her what ’tis on a fire to sit.”