... first she wet her comely cheeks,
And then her bodice green,
Her silken cords of twirtle twist,
Well plet with silver sheen;
And apron, set with mony a dice
Of needle-wark sae rare,
Wove by nae hand, as ye may guess,
But that of Fairly fair.
In his journey, Hardyknute falls in with a wounded and deserted knight, to whom he makes an offer of assistance:
With smileless look and visage wan,