“Hail Signild, daughter of the King, Who here art spinning silken thread; Sir Hafbur me has sent to thee That thou mayst teach me how to braid.” “If thou dost come by Hafbur sent, A welcome guest thou here shalt be; What I can impart of the braiding art I’ll willingly impart to thee. “Whate’er I know of the braiding art I’ll willingly to thee disclose; And thou thy meat from my dish shalt eat, And with my best loved maid repose.” “O I have eat with 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.”