princely maids,
   And by their sides have often lain;
I should pine, I trow, if bid to go
   To bed with one of the servant train.”

“Well do not grieve my pretty may!
   We’ll do thee no disgrace nor harm;
And thou thy meat from my dish shalt eat,
   And thou shalt sleep within my arm.”

And there sat all the damsels proud,
   And with their work dispatch they made,
Save Hafbur alone, the King’s good son,
   Who with his needle often play’d.

They sewed the hart, and they sewed the hind,
   In good green wood that ran about;
Of cup of gold he scarce got hold
   But Hafbur all the wine drunk out.

In came the wicked servant maid,
   In evil hour in came she:
“Where’er I’ve been I ne’er have seen
   A maid know less of broidery.

“A damsel fair I ne’er have seen
   Who understood of stitching less;
And ne’er on earth a maid of birth
   Drink wine with greater eagerness.”

Then out and said the wicked maid,
   And loud with her sharp voice she spake:
“No maid I’ve viewed of noble blood
   Such draughts of power ever take.

“She never sews so small a seam
   But with her needle she doth stop;
No cup so great she gets, but straight
   She drains it to the bottom drop.

“Two eyes she has, and eyes so bold
   In high born maid I ne’er have seen;
And she doth bear of hands a pair
   Which cast of iron seem, I ween.”

“Now do thou hear, thou servant maid,
   Thy jeers at me why dost thou throw?
Thou needst not fear or blame or sneer
   From me, however thou may’st sew.

“Forego thy scoffs, forego thy jeers,
   And do not watch me in such guise;
I thee don’t mark on thy hand’s work
   Whatever way I turn my eyes.”

’Twas Hafbur then the King’s good son
   To sew at length with zeal began;
And he sewed hart and hind with art,
   E’en as they run pursued by man.

He lilies sews, and roses bright,
   The birds upon the bough he sews;
At his address they all express
   Surprise, they’d him by no means lose.

And on sewed they till end of day,
   And till some part of night was fled;
With drowsy brows the proud maids rose,
   It lists them now to go to bed.

So late it was at nightly tide,
   Down fell the dew o’er hill and mead;
Then lists it her proud Signild fair
   With all the rest to bed to speed.

“O where shall I a bed procure?”
   Said Hafbur then, the King’s good son.
“O thou shalt rest in chamber best
   With me the bolsters blue upon.”

Proud Signild foremost went, and stepped
   The threshold of her chamber o’er;
With secret glee came Hafbur, he
   Had never been so glad before.

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