But her mother said with a grimly frown:
“They soon shall sink to the bottom down.
“For I will cause a storm to blow,
Shall make them both to the bottom go.”
Proud Mette and her nine witches hoar,
They hurried screaming to the shore.
She waked on the sea a tempest blast,
The sand from the bottom the waves upcast.
For seven long days, and long nights seven,
Together were blended earth and heaven.
But all the mother could send for their hurt,
With ease the daughter could avert.
“O woe is me, how rash my part,
When I taught her all my secret art!”
There was none on board that tide
Who was able the ship to guide,
Save Damsel Thure, save her alone,
And of her little pages one.
“Thou little page, if thou’lt stand by me,
Full fairly I reward will thee.