In the midst of the castle yard
He smoothèd his array;
Then straight he took to the castle hall,
To the carlish Count his way.
“Be welcome, Lokke Leyemand,
Be welcome my castle to;
Say! how fare things in Hafsborough?
With the land how does it go?”
“O, well fare things in Hafsborough,
And well in the country all;
Tord has his golden hammer lost,
Therefore seek I your hall.”
“Tord he shall not his hammer get,
Thou back may’st carry him word;
Full five-and-ninety fathoms deep
It lies in the earth interred.
“Tord he shall not his hammer get,
To thee I vow and swear,
Save he give me Damsel Fridleifsborg,
With all his goods and gear.”
It was Lokke Leyemand,
O’er himself the feather robe drew;
And with his answer back amain
O’er the briny sea he flew.
“Thou never wilt get thy hammer of gold,
Upon that thou may’st rely,
Unless he have Damsel Fridleifsborg,
And all our property.”
Then answered straight the proud Damsel,
Upon the bench as she sate:
“Ye’d better give me a Christian man,
Than the laidly trold for mate.
“But we will take our old father,
And deck so fine his head,
And we’ll carry him to the Northern hills,
To stand for bride in my stead.”
And now to the house of the merry bridegroom
They the young old bride convey;
Upon her dress no gold was spared,
For a verity I say.