They sewed the hart, they sewed the hind, As they run through the wild-wood green, Never gat Hafbur so big a bowl But the bottom soon was seen. In there came the evil nurse In the worst tide that might be: "Never saw I fair maiden Who could sew less craftily. "Never saw I fair maiden Seam worse the linen fine, Never saw I noble maiden Who better drank the wine." This withal spake the evil nurse, The nighest that she durst: "Never saw I yet fair maiden Of drink so sore athirst. "So little a seam as ever she sews Goes the needle into her mouth, As big a bowl as ever she gets Out is it drunk forsooth. "Ne'er saw I yet in maiden's head Two eyes so bright and bold, And those two hands of her withal Are hard as the iron cold." "Hearken, sweet nurse, whereso thou art, Why wilt thou mock me still? Never cast I one word at thee, Went thy sewing well or ill. "Still wilt thou mock, still wilt thou spy; Nought such thou hast of me, Whether mine eyes look out or look in Nought do they deal with thee." O it was Hafbur the King's son Began to sew at last; He sowed the hart, and he sewed the hind, As they flee from the hound so fast. He sewed the lily, and he sewed the rose, And the little fowls of the air; Then fell the damsels a-marvelling, For nought had they missed him there. Day long they sewed till the evening, And till the long night was deep, Then up stood dames and maidens And were fain in their beds to sleep. So fell on them the evening-tide, O'er the meads the dew drave down, And fain was Signy, that sweet thing, With her folk to bed to be gone. Therewith asked the King's son Hafbur, "And whatten a bed for me?" "O thou shalt sleep in the bower aloft, And blue shall thy bolster be." She went before, sweet Signy, O'er the high-bower's bridge aright, And after her went Hafbur Laughing from heart grown light. Then kindled folk the waxlights, That were so closely twined, And after them the ill nurse went With an ill thought in her mind. The lights were quenched, the nurse went forth, They deemed they were alone: Lord Hafbur drew off his kirtle red, Then first his sword outshone. Lord Hafbur mid his longing sore Down on the bed he sat: I tell you of my soothfastness, His byrny clashed thereat. Then spake the darling Signy, Out of her heart she said, "Never saw I so rough a shirt Upon so fair a maid." She laid her hand on Hafbur's breast With the red gold all a-blaze: "Why wax thy breasts in no such wise As they wax in other mays?" "The wont it is in my father's land For maids to ride to the Thing, Therefore my breasts are little of growth Beneath the byrny-ring." And there they lay through the night so long, The King's son and the may, In talk full sweet, but little of sleep, So much on their minds there lay. "Hearken, sweet maiden Signy, As here alone we lie, Who is thy dearest in the world, And lieth thine heart most nigh?"