And aye they rode, and on they rode, till they came to a dark and ugsome
glen, where they stopped, and the lady lighted down. Says the Bull to
her: "Here you must stay till I go and fight the Old One. You must seat
yourself on that stone, and move neither hand nor foot till I come back,
else I'll never find you again. And if everything round about you turns
blue, I have beaten the Old One; but should all things turn red, he'll
have conquered me." She set herself down on the stone, and by-and-by all
round her turned blue. Overcome with joy, she lifted one of her feet,
and crossed it over the other, so glad was she that her companion was
victorious. The Bull returned and sought for her, but never could find
her.
Long she sat, and aye she wept, till she wearied. At last she rose and
went away, she didn't know where. On she wandered, till she came to a
great hill of glass, that she tried all she could to climb, but wasn't
able. Round the bottom of the hill she went, sobbing and seeking a
passage over, till at last she came to a smith's house; and the smith
promised, if she would serve him seven years, he would make her iron
shoon, wherewith she could climb over the glassy hill. At seven years'
end she got her iron shoon, clomb the glassy hill, and chanced to come
to the old washerwife's habitation. There she was told of a gallant
young knight that had given in some clothes all over blood to wash, and
whoever washed them was to be his wife. The old wife had washed till she
was tired, and then she set her daughter at it, and both washed, and
they washed, and they washed, in hopes of getting the young knight; but
for all they could do they couldn't bring out a stain. At length they
set the stranger damsel to work; and whenever she began, the stains came
out pure and clean, and the old wife made the knight believe it was her
daughter had washed the clothes. So the knight and the eldest daughter
were to be married, and the stranger damsel was distracted at the
thought of it, for she was deeply in love with him. So she bethought her
of her apple and breaking it, found it filled with gold and precious
jewellery, the richest she had ever seen. "All these," she said to the
eldest daughter, "I will give you, on condition that you put off your
marriage for one day and allow me to go into his room alone at night."
The lady consented; but meanwhile the old wife had prepared a sleeping
drink, and given it to the knight who drank it, and never wakened till
next morning. The live-long night the damsel sobbed and sang:
"Seven long years I served for thee,
The glassy hill I clomb for thee,
Thy bloody clothes I wrang for thee;
And wilt thou not waken and turn to me?"
[Illustration: THE GLASSY HILL I CLOMB FOR THEE]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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