Then lighted they the waxen lights,
So fairly twisted were the same.
Behind, behind, with ill at mind,
The wicked servant maiden came.
The lights were out, the train retired,
They thought that they were all alone;
His upper wede the knight with speed
Did off, then bright his faulchion shone.
King Hafbur with delighted heart
Upon the bed himself has flung;
I tell to ye for verity
That as he fell his hauberk rung.
Then out and spake proud Signelil,
She could not wonder half enough:
“Since I’ve been born no maid has worn,
That I have known, a sarke so rough.”
Her hand upon young Hafbur’s breast
Which shone with ruddy gold she laid:
“To me make known why are not grown
Your breasts like those of another maid?”
“’Tis custom in my father’s land
For maids to mount and ride to fight;
My breasts not growing more, is owing
Unto the chafe of my hauberk tight.”
And there reclined the night so long
The youthful hero and the may;
They talking kept and nothing slept,
For in their hearts so much there lay.
“Now do thou hear, proud Signild fair,
Since all alone ourselves we find,
Tell me the truth, who is the youth
For whom most stands your maiden mind?”
“O there is none within the world
For whom I feel the least inclined,
Save Hafbur young, whose deeds are sung,
And he for me is not designed.
“Save Hafbur young whom it has been
These eyes hard fortune ne’er to see;
I’ve heard alone his bugle blown,
When to and fro the Ting rides he.”