From Denmark sailing hither, Horant, your kinsman, comes

“From Denmark sailing hither, Horant, your kinsman, comes; He to war is leading his followers from their homes. The banner of Queen Hilda aloft in his hand he is bearing; ’Tis thus the Hegeling warriors now the Norman Hartmut’s land are nearing.”

Gu-drun then asked him further: “This would I also hear: Lives Wâ-te still of Sturmland? If so, no more I fear. We all might then be happy, if thou could’st this be telling,— That under the flag of my mother he and the aged Fru-te are hither sailing.”

To her the angel answered: “Hither comes in haste Wâ-te the old from Sturmland. He in his hand holds fast The strong and guiding rudder, and Fru-te’s ship is steering. Truer friends or better you ne’er need wish their swords for you were bearing.”

Once more the bird was ready upon his way to go; Then said the wretched maiden: “I still am full of woe; And now to know am longing— if life such bliss can lend me— When I, poor homeless maiden, shall see my mother’s knights, whom she doth send me.”

The angel answered quickly: “Your happiness is near; To-morrow morning early, will two brave knights be here. Both are true and upright, and falsehood ne’er will tell you; Whatever news they bring you you well may trust, and never will it fail you.”

At last the heavenly angel hence in truth must go: From him the homeless maidens sought no more to know. In mind they ever wavered, ’twixt hope and fear still tossing; Where their helpers lingered they could not know, yet trust were never losing.

Lazily and slowly they washed the livelong day; Of knights sent there by Hilda, who now were on their way From over the Hegeling border, busily they chatted: Gu-drun’s good, faithful kinsmen were by the long-lost maids uneasily awaited.

Each day must have its ending; to the castle now must go The weary, homesick maidens. They there must harshness know From evil-minded Gerlind, who their lives still harrowed; A day went by but seldom that she scolded them not, nor still their bondage narrowed.

Thus she spoke to the maidens: “Who gave the word to you That you might wash so slowly my clothes and linen, too? All the things I gave you must be quickly whitened; ’Twere best that you be careful, you else shall weep, and for your lives be frightened.”

Then answered her young Hildeburg: “Our work we ever mind; Truly you ought, fair lady, to be to us more kind. We oft are almost freezing, with water o’er us splashing; If only the winds were warmer, we might for you far better then be washing.”

Grimly answered Gerlind, and roughly them did twit: “Whatever be the weather, my work you may not slight. Early must you be washing, nor rest till night be knowing; To-morrow morn, at daybreak, you from my room must down to the beach be going.

“I ween you know already that Holytide is near; Palm-Sunday soon is coming, and guests will then be here: If to ill-washed clothing my knights shall then be treated, Never in kingly castle to those who washed have woes like yours been meted.”

Then the maidens left her; they laid aside, all wet, The clothing they were wearing— they better care should get. All they had known of kindness for them no longer lasted, And soon for this they sorrowed, for bread and water now was all they tasted.

Now the downcast maidens for sleep had sought their bed; But this was not the softest, and each one, in her need, A dirty shirt was wearing. Thus was Gerlind showing Her care and kindness for them, on benches hard a pillow ne’er bestowing.

Never Gu-drun, poor maiden, on a harder bed had lain; All were tired with watching till day should dawn again. They had but broken slumber; I ween, they oft bethought them How soon the knights were coming, of whom the angel-bird the news had brought them.

Soon as the morning lightened, Hildeburg the good, Erst from Galicia stolen, at the window gazing stood; All night she slept but little, but on her bed lay tossing. She saw that snow had fallen, and hope the heart-sick maid was wellnigh losing.

Then spake the hapless maiden: “To wash we now must go. Should God not change the weather, and we, in storm and snow, To-day must stand a-washing, before the evening cometh We, all chilled and barefoot, shall dead be found, while us the cold benumbeth.”

By hope they yet were gladdened, e’en as they well might be, That those sent out by Hilda they ere night should see. When the lovely maidens upon this thought were dwelling, It made them now more happy, and lighter was the pain their hearts were feeling.

Then said Hilda’s daughter: “My friend, you should beseech The stern, ill-minded Gerlind, that on the pebbly beach Shoes she will allow us; she may herself be learning That if we go there barefoot we soon shall freeze, and there our death be earning.”

The maidens then went seeking King Ludwig and his queen. He, in sleep held fondly, in Gerlind’s arms was seen; Both were sunk in slumber, and the maids, their anger fearing, Dared not them to waken: erelong Gu-drun yet greater woe was bearing.