It was young King Hafbur bold
In his left hand he took his blade,
And away he hied to the mountain’s side
To seek the lovely elfin maid.
With his fingers white he thrice tapped light
Upon the mountain’s side so green;
The daughter of Elle lay awake, and well
Could guess what did that tapping mean.
“Hail, daughter fair of Elfland’s King,
Whom here I see in costly wede!
I beg for love of the God above
That thou to me my dream wilt rede.
“Methought I was in Heaven’s domain,
Within that place so fair to view,
And held to my breast my loved one prest,
When down I sank the cloudlets through.”
“Thy dreaming thou wast in heaven, doth mean
That thou shalt win the damsel proud;
But that thou shalt die for her is shown
By thy falling through the little cloud.”
“And if for me it destined be
To win the maid for whom I sigh,
I’ll ne’er complain if Fate ordain
That afterwards for her I die.”
Sir Hafbur lets his hair grow long,
And maiden’s clothes he caused be made;
And away he rode to the high abode
Of Siward King, to learn to braid.
For himself he clothes has caused be made,
All such as high born damsels wear;
Then away rode he o’er hill and lea
To seek King Siward’s daughter fair.
When he had reached the castle yard
In haste he smoothed his array;
To the hall of state where ladies wait,
And maids, then swift he takes his way.
“Now hail to you, ye lovely dames,
And hail ye, maids of high degree!
And hail the child that’s Signild styled,
The Dane King’s child, if here she be!