Tale the Sixth

It came to pass one evening, good luck did so befall, That Horant, the knight of Daneland, sang before them all. His singing was so wondrous that all who listened near him Found his song well-pleasing; the little birds all hushed their notes to hear him.

King Hagen heard him gladly, and with him all his men: The song of the Danish Horant friends for him did gain. Likewise the queenly mother hearkened with ear befitting, As it sounded thro’ the opening where she upon the leaded roof was sitting.

Then spake the fair young Hilda: “What is it that I hear? Just now a song the sweetest was thrilling on mine ear, That e’er from any singer I heard until this hour. Would to God in heaven my chamberlain to raise such notes had power!”

Then she bade them bring her him who so sweetly sung; Soon as the knight came forward, thanks were on her tongue. For her with song the evening blissfully was ended; By Lady Hilda’s women the minstrel-knight was carefully befriended.

Then spake the lovely Hilda: “Once more you must let us hear The songs that you this evening have made to us so dear. Truly it were blissful every day, at even, To hear from you such singing; for this would great reward to you be given.”

“Since you your thanks, fair lady, have thus on me bestowed, Every day will I gladly sing you a song as good; And whoso listens rightly shall find his pains departed, His cares shall all be lessened, and he henceforth will feel himself light-hearted.”

When he his word had given, forthwith he left the queen. Great reward in Ireland did his singing win; Never in his birthland had such to him been meted. Thus did the knight from Denmark give his help to Hettel, as him befitted.

Soon as the night was ended, with the early dawn of day, Horant raised his carol; the birds soon stopped their lay, And to his song they listened, while in hedges hidden. The folk who yet were sleeping rested no more, by his sweet tones upbidden.

Horant’s song rose softly, higher and yet more sweet; King Hagen also heard it, while near his wife was his seat. From out their inner chamber drawn to the roof, they waited; Their guest of this had warning; and Hilda the young gave ear, where she was seated.

The daughter of wild Hagen with her maids around her heard From where they sat and listened; and now each little bird Wholly forgot his singing, and in the court-yard lighted; The warriors hearkened also, and well the song of the Danish minstrel greeted.

Thanks to him were given by women and by men; “But,” said the Danish Fru-te, “would that I ne’er again Such songs might hear him singing. Whom would he be pleasing? To whom is my witless nephew such worthless morning-hymns so bent on raising?”