“Yes, by the Saints! my daughter bright,
At chess thou may’st play from now till night.
“At chess to play thou, my girl, art free,
Whether within or without I be.”
Thereto her mother answer made,
In evil arts she was deeply read:
“Of Sir Thor the powerful have thou care,
Lest he at chess-table thee ensnare.
“Do thou with thy maids in thy bower stay,
At tables of gold thou shalt not play.”
But the maid no ear to her mother lent,
To play at tables away she went.
The first game on the board they played
Was won by Thure, the lily maid.
“The eagle flies across the moor,
He heeds but little the tempest’s roar.
“All that he findeth he swalloweth,
How like to a woman devoid of faith!”
“O do not cast such reproach at me,
Remember I waited eight years for thee.”