"My mother she sitteth the hill within,
And gold in the chest doth lay;
And I stole out for a little while,
Upon my gold harp to play."
And it was the knight Sir Thynnè,
He patted her cheek rosie:
"Why wilt thou not give a kinder reply,
Thou dearest of maidens, to me?"
"I can give you no kinder reply:
I may not myself that allow;
I am betrothed to a hill-king,
And to him I must keep my vow."
And it was Thora, the little Dwarf's wife,
She at the hill-door looked out,
And there she saw how the knight Sir Thynnè,
Lay at the green linden's foot.
And it was Thora, the little Dwarf's wife,
She was vext and angry, God wot:
"What hast thou here in the grove to do?
Little business, I trow, thou hast got.
"'Twere better for thee in the hill to be,
And gold in the chest to lay,
Than here to sit in the rosy grove,[161]
And on thy gold harp to play.
"And 'twere better for thee in the hill to be,
And thy bride-dress finish sewíng,
Than sit under the lind, and with runic lay
A Christian man's heart to thee win."
And it was Ulva, the little Dwarf's daughter,
She goeth in at the hill-door:
And after her goeth the knight Sir Thynnè,
Clothed in scarlet and fur.
And it was Thora, the little Dwarf's wife,
Forth a red-gold chair she drew:
Then she cast Sir Thynnè into a sleep
Until that the cock he crew.
And it was Thora, the little Dwarf's wife,
The five rune-books she took out;
So she loosed him fully out of the runes,
Her daughter had bound him about.