The Norse King's Bridal
Ballad 5
The King sits up in Ribe,
Drinking red wine;
He's sent to all his Danish knights
Of noble line.
(So daintily danced he, Hagen!)
"Stand up now, all my meinè,
And knights so bold!
Tread ye for me a merry dance
All on the windy wold."
Listed him there to dance,
The Danish King;
With them went haughty Hagen,
The round to sing.
The Queen awoke from slumber,
And laughed so low---
"Which one of all my maidens
Strikes the harp so?"
"Nay, none of thy merry maidens
Strikes the harp-strings;
That is haughty Hagen,
So sweet that sings."
"Stand up now, all my ladies!
Wreathe the red rose!
We will fare forth, to see
How the dance goes."
Forth rode the Queen o' Danes,
In scarlet clad---
With her went many a dainty dame,
And damsel glad.
Withersins rode the Queen
Around the wold;
There she saw haughty Hagen,
That knight so bold.
It was haughty Hagen
Spake up so free;
"Listeth thee now, my gracious dame,
To dance with me?"
Up stands he, haughty Hagen,
All with the Queen to dance---
Good sooth, they there made merry
With Gay pastance.
Up and spake the little maid
In kirtle blue;
"Beware, beware! for traitors' eyes
Watch all ye do!"
"I heed them not, those traitors---
God grant them dule and pine!---
Would God that haughty Hagen
Might e'er be mine!
"Dearer to me is Hagen,
In tunic old,
Than e'er is he, the King o' Danes,
In crown of gold!
"Dearer to me is Hagen,
Poor and alone,
Than e'er is he, the King o' Danes,
Upon his throne!"
It was the King o' Danes
Did speak and say:
"What listeth thus the queen
To dance and play?
Better to sit in the ladies' bower
With harp of gold
Than thus to stand by Hagen's side
On the green wold."
Up and spake the little maid
In kirtle red;
"Hast heard, hast heard, my gracious dame,
What the King said?"
"So newly have I here begun
The merry dance to trace,
The King right well may tarry
A little space!"
Up and spake the little lad
In purple weed;
"The King o' Danes is riding home---
Take head, take head!"
Shame fell on haughty Hagen
And all his lore!
The Queen sits in the ladies' bower,
And sighs so sore.
(So daintily danced he, Hagen!)
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