However much she pressed him, would the king no longer stay

However much she pressed him, would the king no longer stay; Then strove again young Horant, and never on any day, Had his knightly song been better. Sick and well together All lost their wits in hearing, and none could leave who to listen once came hither.

The wild beasts in the forest let their pasture grow; The little worms that creeping through grass are wont to go, The fishes, too, that ever amidst the waves were swimming, All now stopped to listen; the singer’s heart with pride was overbrimming.

Whatever he might sing to them, to no one seemed it long; Ill vied with his song the choral which by priests is sung. Even the bells no longer rang as of yore so sweetly; Every one who heard him was moved by Horant’s song, and saddened greatly.

Then begged the lovely maiden that he to her be brought; Without her father’s knowledge, she slyly this besought. From her mother, Hilda, also must the tale be hidden That unto her, in her bower, unknown to all, the minstrel had been bidden.

It was a yielding chamberlain who did the wages gain, That, for his help, she gave him; red gold it was, I ween. Glittering and heavy, with armlets twelve, full-weighted. ’Twas thus within her bower the maid, at eventide, the singer greeted.

By hidden ways he did it; Horant was glad indeed That such good-will and kindness, at court, had been his meed. To win her love for his master from far had he been faring; To his tuneful skill he owed it that she such friendly will to him was bearing.

She bade her faithful chamberlain to stand before the house; That so there might be no one who could the threshold cross Until the songs were ended, soon heard with praises truthful. None went into her bower but Horant only and Morunc the youthful.

She bade the bard be seated: “Now sing to me once more,” Thus spake the high-born maiden, “those songs I heard before. For this I feel sore craving; than aught beside ’tis sweeter Unto your lays to listen; than any gem or pastime ’tis far better.”

“If I might dare to sing to you, most fair and lovely maid, And never need be fearful for this to lose my head, Thro’ your father’s anger, never will I falter In any wise to serve you, if in my master’s land you’ll seek a shelter.”

He then began a ditty of a mermaid of Amilé, Which never man nor Christian had learned to sing or say, Although he may have heard it on some wild, unknown water. In this the good knight, Horant, gave honor meet at court to Hagen’s daughter.

At last, when he the love-song had sung unto the end, Then said the lovely maiden: “Thanks I give, my friend.” She drew a ring from her finger, nought of gold were fairer, And said: “I give it gladly; be this of my good-will to you the bearer.”

Now her word she pledged him, and with it gave her hand: “Should she of a crown be wearer, and ever sway the land, That ne’er by the hand of any need he be further driven Than unto her in her castle; there to live in honor would leave be given.”

Of all she pressed upon him nothing would he take Unless indeed a girdle. He said: “Let no man speak, And say that I the maiden e’er for myself was wooing; I will to my master bring her, and for this his heart shall be with bliss o’erflowing.”

She asked: “Who is thy master? By name how is he known? Have e’er his liegemen crowned him? And any lands doth he own? For love of thee, most truly, good-will I bear him ever.” The knight from Denmark answered: “A king so rich and mighty saw I never.”

He said: “To none betray us, most fair and lovely maid; To thee will I tell most gladly what our master said, When from his land we started, hither to come at his bidding; For thy dear sake, fair lady, unto thy father’s land and castle speeding.”

She said: “Then tell me freely the errand on which you’re sent By him you call your master; if my will that way is bent I shall let you know it truly, before we yet are parted.” But Horant feared wild Hagen, and began at court to feel himself faint-hearted.

To the lady thus he answered: “To you he sends this word,— That his heart for you is longing; his love alone is stirred. For him, I beg, fair lady, let now your kindness waken; He from other women has for your sake his love and longing taken.”

She said: “May God reward him; such love for me he shows. If he in birth is my fellow, I fain would be his spouse, If you will deign to sing to me every morn and even.” He said: “That will I gladly; to this no care by you need e’er be given.”