OLAF. You are the fairest in the world; be you what you please, so long as you are mine!
ALFHILD. Were I an elfen maid, then truly, say I, it would fare with you ill!
OLAF. Me!
ALFHILD. Yes, you! When you rode on your lonely path, I should go out to meet you and give you the drink of forgetfulness from the golden horn. I should mix therein my magic and charm so that you would forget both heaven and earth, forget where you were born and reared, what name you answered to, and where your kinsmen fared,—one thing alone should you remember, one thing alone should fill your mind and soul.
OLAF. Forsooth, then are you the elfen maid! For from the first hour you have practiced your magic on me.
ALFHILD. Have I?
OLAF. Through the meadow I rode, below where the river runs,—it was night and the songs and the plaintive lays echoed strangely around me....
OLAF. Bewildered I grew and lost my path; I wandered far, far in among the mountains; I discovered the beautiful valley, where no foot has trod, where no eye has feasted ere mine....
OLAF. A heavy slumber fell upon me in there; the elf maidens played in the meantime, and they drew me into their play....
OLAF. But when I awoke, there was affliction in my soul; homeward I rode, but down there I could no more be content; it seemed as if I had left behind me the richest and best in life, as if a wonderful treasure were held in store for me, if only I sought and found it....