“So long as my little gold horn I possess,
I lure every maid I may wish to caress.
“The Damsel is not in the world to be found,
But what I can lure with that little horn’s sound.”
“I know a proud damsel that dwells by the rill,
On her thou couldst never accomplish thy will.
“I’ll gage my war courser, the steady and tried,
Thou never canst lure the fair Mettie, my bride.”
“Against him I’ll gage my grey courser of power,
That she shall this evening repair to my bower.
“My courser so proud, and my neck bone so white
I’ll gage that I lure the fair Mettie this night.”
’Twas late in the evening, mist fell from the skies,
Sir Olaf he plays in his very best guise.
Sir Olaf he plays on his gold harp a strain,
That heard the proud Mettie far over the plain.
Sir Olaf a tune on his golden horn blew,
To the house of fair Mettie the thrilling sounds flew.
Long stood the fair Mettie and listened thereto:
“Now shall I or not to that horn-player go?”