“Now drink thou, proud Signild, my much beloved Dame,
This blood from the veins of thy brothers that came.”
“With a terrible thirst I must needs be distrest,
When I, O Sir Loumor, obey thy behest.
“But to bed and to sleep, my dear lord, now repair,
Full little, be sure for my brothers I care.
“I care not although all my kindred are slain,
Since thee, my heart’s dearest, alive I retain.”
So things in this fashion for eight winters stood,
And Sir Loumor his brothers and sisters ne’er view’d.
Sir Loumor he brews, and the ruddy wine blends,
To his brothers and sisters a bidding he sends.
Then laughed the proud Signild, that dame fair of face,
And the first time it was for full eight winters space.
Sir Loumor’s relations she placed at the board,
And she handed them mead with so many a fair word.
Of the wine, the clear wine, drank Sir Loumor so free,
For his life not the slightest precaution took he.
On the soft down she spread their beds high from the ground,
She wished to procure for them slumbers so sound.