My husband and my sons with brand
They slew. How I bewail their case!
My tenth son here they from the land—
I never more shall see his face.
Now is my care as complicate
As golden threads which maidens spin;
God crown with bliss Sir Engelbret,
He ever was so free from sin.
But now I’ll take the holy vows,
Within the cloister under Ey;
I’ll ne’er become another’s spouse,
But in religion I will die.
But first to all the country side
I will declare my bosom’s grief;
I find, the more my grief I hide,
The less, the less, is my relief.
THE CRUEL MOTHER-IN-LAW
From his home and his country Sir Volmor should fare,
His wife he commends to his mother’s best care.
Proud Lyborg she sang, as the dancers she watched,
Behind stood Dame Ingeborg, malice she hatched.
“To live to the Fall if the luck I enjoy
Fair lady, thy beautiful voice I’ll destroy.”
Proud Lyborg’s fair maidens upon the floor sprang,
And all through the evening she unto them sang.
But alack two short summer days scarcely had pass’d,
When in desperate sickness proud Lyborg lay fast.