It was the Verner Raven wild,
On the turret he alighted:
“Now sit we, Damsel, upon the house,
Where dwells thy Bridegroom plighted.”
Out came bold Sir Nilaus,
A silver cup in his hand:
“Be welcome, Damsel Irmindlin,
Here to this foreign land!
“What shall I give to thee, Raven wild,
That hast brought to me my Bride?
No better tidings I have heard,
Since from Denmark forth I hied.”
Thanks be to brave Sir Nilaus,
He kept his faith so well;
The Monday next that followed,
His bridal it befell.
They their bridal solemnised
With glee and utmost joy;
When forty weeks away had flown
She brought into the world a boy.
It was the Verner Raven,
Perched on the turret tall:
“What thou did’st promise me, Irmindlin,
To thy mind I’d have thee call.”
So sorely she wept, and her hands she smote,
Because it a girl was not:
“Thee shall the wild Death Raven have,
That will cost thee thy life, I wot!”
There came flying over the house
The Raven, with looks to scare;
So sorely then wept both Maidens and Dames,
And their hands wrung in despair.
Sir Nilaus went, and proffered the bird
Proud castles many a one;
He proffered him even the half of his land
If he only might keep his son.
“If I get not the little babe,
Thou sorely shall rue it straight,
Thee I limb from limb will tear
And thy kingdom devastate.”