"Be silent, be silent, now Sir Thynne, With your proffers of love, I pray; For I am betrothed unto a hill-king, A king all the Dwarfs obey.

"My true love he sitteth the hill within, And at gold tables plays merrily; My father he setteth his champions in ring, And in iron arrayeth them he.

"My mother she sitteth the hill within, And gold in the chest doth lay; And I stole out for a little while, Upon my gold harp to play."

And it was the knight Sir Thynne, He patted her cheek rosie: "Why wilt thou not give a kinder reply, Thou dearest of maidens, to me?"

"I can give you no kinder reply: I may not myself that allow; I am betrothed to a hill-king, And to him I must keep my vow."

And it was Thora, the little Dwarf's wife, She at the hill-door looked out, And there she saw how the knight Sir Thynne, Lay at the green linden's foot.

And it was Thora, the little Dwarf's wife, She was vext and angry, God wot: "What hast thou here in the grove to do?

Little business, I trow, thou hast got.

"'Twere better for thee in the hill to be, And gold in the chest to lay, Than here to sit in the rosy grove,[161]

And on thy gold harp to play.

"And 'twere better for thee in the hill to be, And thy bride-dress finish sewing, Than sit under the lind, and with runic lay A Christian man's heart to thee win."

And it was Ulva, the little Dwarf's daughter, She goeth in at the hill-door: And after her goeth the knight Sir Thynne, Clothed in scarlet and fur.

And it was Thora, the little Dwarf's wife, Forth a red-gold chair she drew: Then she cast Sir Thynne into a sleep Until that the cock he crew.

And it was Thora, the little Dwarf's wife, The five rune-books she took out; So she loosed him fully out of the runes, Her daughter had bound him about.

"And hear thou me, Sir Thynne, From the runes thou now art free; This to thee I will soothly say, My daughter shall never win thee.

"And I was born of Christian kind, And to the hill stolen in; My sister dwelleth in Iseland,[162]

And wears a gold crown so fine.

"And there she wears her crown of gold, And beareth of queen the name; Her daughter was stolen away from her, Thereof there goeth great fame.

"Her daughter was stolen away from her, And to Berner-land brought in; And there now dwelleth the maiden free, She is called Lady Hermolin.

"And never can she into the dance go, But seven women follow her; And never can she on the gold-harp play, If the queen herself is not there.

"The king he hath a sister's son, He hopeth the crown to possess, For him they intend the maiden free, For her little happiness.

"And this for my honour will I do, And out of good-will moreover, To thee will I give the maiden free, And part her from that lover."

Then she gave unto him a dress so new, With gold and pearls bedight; Every seam on the dress it was With precious stones all bright.

Then she gave unto him a horse so good, And therewith a new sell; "And never shalt thou the way inquire, Thy horse will find it well."

And it was Ulva, the little Dwarf's daughter, She would show her good-will to the knight; So she gave unto him a spear so new, And therewith a good sword so bright.

"And never shalt thou fight a fight, Where thou shalt not the victory gain; And never shalt thou sail on a sea Where thou shalt not the land attain."

And it was Thora, the little Dwarf's wife, She wine in a glass for him poured: "Ride away, ride away, now Sir Thynne, Before the return of my lord."

And it was the knight Sir Thynne, He rideth under the green hill side, There then met him the hill-kings two.

As slow to the hill they ride.

"Well met! Good day, now Sir Thynne!

Thy horse can well with thee pace; Whither directed is thy course?

Since thou'rt bound to a distant place."

"Travel shall I and woo; Plight me shall I a flower; Try shall I my sword so good, To my weal or my woe in the stour."

"Ride in peace, ride in peace, away, Sir Thynne, From us thou hast nought to fear; They are coming, the champions from Iseland, Who with thee long to break a spear."

And it was the knight Sir Thynne, He rideth under the green hill side; There met him seven Bernisk champions, They bid him to halt and abide.

"And whether shall we fight to-day, For the red gold and the silver; Or shall we fight together to-day, For both our true loves fair?"

And it was the king's sister's son, He was of mood so hast; "Of silver and gold I have enow, If thou wilt credit me."

"But hast thou not a fair true love, Who is called Lady Hermolin?

For her it is we shall fight to-day, If she shall be mine or thine."

The first charge they together rode, They were two champions so tall; He cut at the king's sister's son, That his head to the ground did fall.

Back then rode the champions six, And dressed themselves in fur; Then went into the lofty hall, The aged king before.

And it was then the aged king, He tore his gray hairs in woe.

"Ye must avenge my sister's son's death; I will sables and martins bestow."[163]

Back then rode the champions six, They thought the reward to gain, But they remained halt and limbless; By loss one doth wit obtain.

And he slew wolves and bears, All before the high chamber; Then taketh he out the maiden free Who so long had languished there.

And now hath Lady Hermolin Escaped from all harm; Now sleeps she sweet full many a sleep, On brave Sir Thynne's arm.

And now has brave Sir Thynne Escaped all sorrow and tine; Now sleeps he sweet full many a sleep, Beside Lady Hermolin.

Most thanketh he Ulva, the little Dwarf's daughter Who him with the runes had bound, For were he not come inside of the hill, The lady he never had found.[164]

_Proud Margaret._

Proud Margaret's[165] father of wealth had store, Time with me goes slow.-- And he was a king seven kingdoms o'er, But that grief is heavy I know.[166]

To her came wooing good earls two, Time with me goes slow.-- But neither of them would she hearken unto, But that grief is heavy I know.

To her came wooing princes five, Time with me goes slow.-- Yet not one of them would the maiden have, But that grief is heavy I know.

To her came wooing kings then seven, Time with me goes slow.-- But unto none her hand has she given, But that grief is heavy I know.

And the hill-king asked his mother to read, Time with me goes slow.-- How to win proud Margaret he might speed, But that grief is heavy I know.