She spread out their beds on the bolsters of blue,
Thereon with her fingers the sleep runes she drew.
No sooner Sir Loumor had sunk to repose,
Than from his embrace the proud Signild arose.
From out of a corner she took a keen sword,
She’ll awake with its point the dear kin of her lord.
To the sleeping apartment proud Signild then sped,
And straightway his five belov’d brothers slew dead.
Though her heart it was sad, and the tears in her eyes,
His three belov’d sisters she slew in like guise.
Then swift in a bowl she collects the red gore,
And that she brought in good Sir Loumor before.
She took off the chaplet her brow from around,
And firmly the hands of Sir Loumor she bound.
“Now wake thou, Sir Loumor, and speak to thy wife,
I’ll not, whilst thou sleepest, deprive thee of life.
“Now drink, O Sir Loumor, the kind and the good,
Drink, drink thy dear brothers’ and sisters’ heart’s blood.”
“O sore would the thirst be, O Signild, full sore,
That ever could tempt me to drink of that gore.