Then straight she took the little keys
And cast them overboard;
Away then flew the Raven, glad
He had obtained her word.
The Queen walks on the yellow sand,
Then o’er her came a gloom,
She felt that Germand Gladenswayne
Was quick within her womb.
And from that day when five short months
Her head had flitted o’er,
The Queen she went to the chamber high,
And a lovely son she bore.
Born was he in the evening hour,
They christened him at night;
They called him Germand Gladenswayne,
Concealed him whilst they might.
They fostered him a winter’s space,
They fostered him for nine;
The fairest youth he grew on whom
The sun did ever shine.
So well he throve, so well he grew,
His horse he well could ride,
Whene’er his mother on him gazed
So woefully she sigh’d.
“Now list to me, my mother dear,
One thing I fain would know;
Why dost thou sigh so piteously
Whene’er I past thee go?”
“Now hear thou, Germand Gladenswayne,
I’ve cause to be forlorn;
Beguiled I gave thee to a fiend
Before thou yet wast born.”
“And do thou hear, my mother dear,
All sorrow cast aside:
Whatever be the will of God
By that I must abide.”
It chanced upon a harvest morn
The breezes scarcely stirr’d,
That as the chamber door stood ope
So wild a yell was heard.