class="x-ebookmaker-pageno" title="p. 9" id="pgepubid00007"/>They their bridal solemnised
   With glee and utmost joy;
When forty weeks away had flown
   She brought into the world a boy.

It was the Verner Raven,
   Perched on the turret tall:
“What thou did’st promise me, Irmindlin,
   To thy mind I’d have thee call.”

So sorely she wept, and her hands she smote,
   Because it a girl was not:
“Thee shall the wild Death Raven have,
   That will cost thee thy life, I wot!”

There came flying over the house
   The Raven, with looks to scare;
So sorely then wept both Maidens and Dames,
   And their hands wrung in despair.

Sir Nilaus went, and proffered the bird
   Proud castles many a one;
He proffered him even the half of his land
   If he only might keep his son.

“If I get not the little babe,
   Thou sorely shall rue it straight,
Thee I limb from limb will tear
   And thy kingdom devastate.”

She has taken the babe, and in linen white
   Hath wrapped it tenderly;
“Farewell, farewell, my dearest son,
   Thou owest thy death to me.”

Then bore they out the little babe,
   On its mother’s breast that lay;
O’er the cheeks of all did big tears fall,
   Such woe was and wail that day.

The Raven took the child in his claw,
   He croaked in joyous guise;
Sir Nilaus stood and looked thereon,
   Pouring forth bitter sighs.

Then tore he amain its right eye out,
   Drank the half of its heart’s red blood;
Then he became the handsomest knight
   That upon earth e’er stood.

He changed into the loveliest knight
   That with eye man ever had seen:
It was Irmindlin’s brother himself,
   Who had long enchanted been.

All the folk that stood thereby,
   They fell upon their knees bare;
And the child it was to life restored
   When to God they had made their prayer.

Now sitteth Dame Irmindlin so glad,
   All her grief has from her hied;
For she has now both brother and son,
   And sleeps by Sir Nilaus’ side.

THE COUNT OF VENDEL’S
DAUGHTER

Within a bower the womb I left,
   ’Midst dames and maids who stood to aid;
They wrapped me first in silken weft,
   And next in scarlet red array’d.

But a stepdame soon ’twas my lot to get,
   And fierce and wild she proved to me;
Within a coffer me she set,
   And pushed it out upon the sea.

By one wave I was borne to land,
   And by the next away was ta’en;
But God on High, it seems, had plann’d,
   That I should footing there obtain.

The tide it drove me to the shore,
   And in its backward course retook;
Sure ne’er had child of king before
   Such buffeting on sea to brook.

But God He help’d me, so that I
   Was cast above the billows’ reach;
And soon a savage wolf drew nigh,
   Was prowling on the sandy beach.

Soon prowling came a wolf so gray,
   And me up-taking in his jaws,
He carried me with care away
   Deep, deep into the forest shaws.

That self-same wolf he was so kind
   That me beneath a tree he laid;
And then came running a nimble hind,
   And me unto its lair convey’d.

There me for winter one she nurs’d—
   She nursed me for two winters’ space.
To creep, to creep, I learnt at first,
   And next I