chest she placed them in.
   I’m passion’s thrall.

She them collects, then wends her slow,
   The long night all—
Unto the fount of Maribo.
   I’m passion’s thrall.

She dipped them in the water pure,
   The long night all—
“Rise, Christian man, I thee conjure!”
   I’m passion’s thrall.

The man arose, and thanked his God,
   The long night all—
Then from the country forth he trod.
   I’m passion’s thrall.

RAMUND

Ramund thought he should a better man be
   If better apparel arrayed him;
Of garments of leather, and hemp patch’d together,
   The Queen then a present made him.
“These I will not wear,” bold Ramund he said,
   “They beseem me not fair,” said Ramund the young.

“Your garments of tow and leather bestow
   On the cleaners of trencher and platter.”
The Lady to give him fresh clothes was not slow,
   And of sammet and silk were the latter.

“Yes, these will I wear,” bold Ramund he said,
   “They beseem me right fair,” said Ramund the young.

Ramund he into the shop now hies,
   Where the best of all tailors was sitting:
“Now wilt thou, O tailor, so dext’rous and wise,
   Make clothes for Ramund fitting?”
“And why should I not?” the tailor he said,
   “Then thou’lt do well I wot,” said Ramund the young.

“Twice twenty-five ells for the breeches take,
   Fifteen for the points of the breeches;
And them thou must strong and durable make
   If thou therein settest stitches.”
“These are too tight,” bold Ramund he said,
   “I can’t stride out aright,” said Ramund the young.

Now Ramund his ships beside the shore
   With everything needful prepareth;
And away, away, the salt ocean o’er
   To the land of the Jutuns he beareth.
“We are come to this soil,” bold Ramund he said,
   “And withouten much toil,” said Ramund the young.

Ramund he wanders along the strand,
   There seven tall Giants faced him:
“If I take Ramund in my left hand
   I afar from the land will cast him.”
“You’ll not do that alone,” bold Ramund he said,
   “Ye must come every one,” said Ramund the young.

Ramund drew out his trusty glaive,
   To which Dymling for name he had given;
And dead to the earth with seven blows brave
   He hewed the Jotuns seven.

“There ye all seven lie,” bold Ramund he said,
   “And still living am I,” said Ramund the young.

Ramund walked on till the big Jutt he spied,
   And to see him he sorely wonder’d;
For full fifty ells was his carcase wide,
   And his height was nearly a hundred.
“What a breadth, what a height!” bold Ramund he said,
   “Dost wish for a fight?” said Ramund the young.

“Dear Ramund, if thou wilt let me live,
   And to me no damage wilt proffer,
I’ll bathe thee in wine, and to thee I will give
   Seven bushels of gold from my coffer.”
“Make ’em eight, if you will,” bold Ramund he said,
   “I will cut thee down still,” said Ramund the young.

The first, first day that together they fought
   With their naked