By one wave I was borne to land,
And by the next away was ta’en;
But God on High, it seems, had plann’d,
That I should footing there obtain.
The tide it drove me to the shore,
And in its backward course retook;
Sure ne’er had child of king before
Such buffeting on sea to brook.
But God He help’d me, so that I
Was cast above the billows’ reach;
And soon a savage wolf drew nigh,
Was prowling on the sandy beach.
Soon prowling came a wolf so gray,
And me up-taking in his jaws,
He carried me with care away
Deep, deep into the forest shaws.
That self-same wolf he was so kind
That me beneath a tree he laid;
And then came running a nimble hind,
And me unto its lair convey’d.
There me for winter one she nurs’d—
She nursed me for two winters’ space.
To creep, to creep, I learnt at first,
And next I learnt to pace, to pace.
And I was full eight years, I wot,
Within the quiet, green retreat.
Close couched beside the hind I got
Full many a slumber calm and sweet.
I had clothes and shelter of no kind,
Except the linden green alone;
And, save the gentle forest hind,
Had nurse and foster-mother none.
But forth on courser reeking hot
There rushed a knight of bearing bold,
And he my foster-mother shot
With arrow on the verdant wold.
He pierced the hind with mortal wound,
And all our fond connection cut;
Then wrapped his cloak my frame around,
And me within his buckler put.