King's daughter sitting in tower so high, Fair summer is on many a shield. Why weepest thou as the clouds go by? Fair sing the swans‘ twixt firth and field.
Why weepest thou in the window-seat Till the tears run through thy fingers sweet? I weep because I sit alone Betwixt these walls of lime and stone.
Fair folk are in my father's hall, But for me he built this guarded wall. And here the gold on the green I sew Nor tidings of my true-love know.
King's daughter, sitting above the sea, I shall tell thee a tale shall gladden thee. Yestreen I saw a ship go forth When the wind blew merry from the north.
And by the tiller Steingrim sat, And O, but my heart was glad thereat! For‘ twixt ashen plank and dark blue sea His sword sang sweet of deeds to be.
O barren sea, thou bitter bird, And a barren tale my ears have heard. Thy father's men were hard thereby In byrny bright and helmet high.
O worser waxeth thy story far, For these drew upon me bolt and bar. Fly south, O fowl, to the field of death For nothing sweet thy grey neb saith.
O, there was Olaf the lily-rose, As fair as any oak that grows. O sweet bird, what did he then Among the spears of my father's men?
‘ Twixt ashen plank and dark blue sea, He sang: My true love waiteth me. As well as this dull floor knows my feet, I am not weary yet, my sweet.
He sang: As once her hand I had, Her lips at last shall make me glad. As once our fingers met, O love, So shall our lips be fain thereof.
He sang: Come wrack and iron and flame, For what shall breach the wall but fame? Be swift to rise and set, O Sun, Lest life‘ twixt hope and death be done.
King's daughter sitting in tower so high, A gift for my tale ere forth I fly, The gold from thy finger fair and fine, Thou hadst it from no love of thine.
By my father's ring another there is, I had it with my mother's kiss. Fly forth, O fowl, across the sea To win another gift of me.
Fly south to bring me tidings true, Fair summer is on many a shield. Of the eve grown red with the battle-dew, Fair sing the swans‘ twixt firth and field.
King's daughter sitting in tower so high, Fair summer is on many a shield. Tidings to hearken ere thou die, Fair sing the swans‘ twixt firth and field.
In the Frankish land the spear points met, And wide about the field was wet. And high ere the cold moon quenched the sun, Blew Steingrim's horn for battle won.
Fair fall thee fowl! Tell tidings true Of deeds that men that day did do. Steingrim before his banner went, And helms were broke and byrnies rent.
A doughty man and good at need; Tell men of any other's deed? Where Steingrim through the battle bore Still Olaf went a foot before.
O fair with deeds the world doth grow! Where is my true-love gotten now? Upon the deck beside the mast He lieth now, and sleepeth fast.
Heard'st thou before his sleep began That he spake word of any man? Methought of thee he sang a song, But nothing now he saith for long.
And wottest thou where he will wend With the world before him from end to end? Before the battle joined that day Steingrim a word to him did say:
“If we bring the banner back in peace, In the King's house much shall my fame increase; Till there no guarded door shall be But it shall open straight to me.
Then to the bower we twain shall go Where thy love the golden seam doth sew. I shall bring thee in and lay thine hand About the neck of that lily-wand.
And let the King be lief or loth One bed that night shall hold you both.” Now north belike runs Steingrim's prow, And the rain and the wind from the south do blow.
Lo, fowl of death, my mother's ring, But the bridal song I must learn to sing. And fain were I for a space alone, For O the wind, and the wind doth moan.
And I must array the bridal bed, Fair summer is on many a shield. For O the rain, and the rain drifts red! Fair sing the swans‘ twixt firth and field.
Before the day from the night was born, Fair summer is on many a shield. She heard the blast of Steingrim's horn, Fair sing the swans‘ twixt firth and field.
Before the day was waxen fair Were Steingrim's feet upon the stair. “O bolt and bar they fall away, But heavy are Steingrim's feet to-day.”
“O heavy the feet of one who bears The longing of days and the grief of years! Lie down, lie down, thou lily-wand That on thy neck I may lay his hand.
Whether the King be lief or loth To-day one bed shall hold you both. O thou art still as he is still, So sore as ye longed to talk your fill.
And good it were that I depart, Now heart is laid so close to heart. For sure ye shall talk so left alone Fair summer is on many a shield.
Of days to be below the stone.” Fair sing the swans‘ twixt firth and field.
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