Now has Regnfred, the King’s son,
O’ercome his dire distress;
He sleeps each night so joyously
In the arms of his princess.
And now is Damsel Swanelill
To kith and kin restored;
So joyously she sleeps each night
With Regnfred her wedded lord.
ALLEGAST
The Count such a store of gold had got,
His equal for wealth in the land was not.
But the Count he had of a hare the heart,
At the slightest thing he with fear would start.
Yet at last he grew of courage so rife,
That he wooed the King’s daughter to be his wife.
Then answer made Carl, the son of the King:
I ne’er will consent to such shameful thing.
“For he served my father like a knave,
He’ll not bear on his helm the stroke of a glaive.
“Last year the King’s coursers he helped to groom,
This year he’ll to wed the King’s daughter presume.”
Nought booted all Carl, the King’s son, could say;
’Gainst the wish of her brother they gave her away.