In agony he shouted, “If at Hielm I’d staid it had better sped, Nor to that had I been devoted.
“Would God would send a trusty friend, Who would my message carry, To Kirstine fair, who sits in care, To Ranild true to tarry. O Christ help all my babies small, And bless my bosom’s dearie!
“Ye Christian folk, whom, with dying look, On the mead I am discerning, A pater pray for my soul, to stay Of God the anger burning; That me He receive this very eve To the joys for which I’m yearning.”
CHILD STIG AND CHILD FINDAL
Child Stig and Child Findal two brothers were they, There ne’er were two brothers more gallant and gay.
Child Stig serves the Dane King in bower and hall, High dames brushed his hair, and fair maidens withal.
Child Stig by the board of the Monarch he stood, To him little Kirstin was cruel of mood.
“Full seven years I have been Lord of the Rune, Of its power I’ll make trial this same afternoon.”
With his right hand he skinked the wine and the mead And cast with his left the Rune characters dread.
To cast them on Kirstin the gallant Stig meant, But under the dress of Rigissa they went.
O pallid as ashes the gallant Stig grew, And red as the blood was Rigissa to view.
The gallant Child Stig placed his cap on his head, And unto his foster dame’s chamber he sped.
“Dear Foster dame, give me some counsel, I pray, How I may escape from this palace away.
“To cast the Rune letters at Kirstin I meant, But under the dress of Rigissa they went.
“I will mount my good courser so true and so tried, And away to the ends of the earth I will ride.”
Said she: “Shouldst thou travel all Finland around, This night at thy couch will Rigissa be found.
“And e’en shouldst thou ride to the earth’s farthest land, This night by thy couch she will certainly stand.
“But, Child Stig, I advise thee, call up a good heart, And home to thy bed and thy slumbers depart.
“She’ll tap on the door of thy chamber, I ween, But still do thou keep, let her in by no mean.
“But ten fingers has she, so tiny and small, And with them from the door she will pick the nails all.
“She will set herself down on the side of thy bed, And play with the long yellow locks of thy head.
“So fondly she’ll stroke thy fair cheek in the dark, But do thou remain as thou wert stiff and stark.
“She’ll kiss thee full oft on thy lips rosy red, But do thou lie still as were life from thee fled.”
Child Stig he gave ear to his foster dame’s rede, And away to his bed he betook him with speed.
’Twas late in the even, and down fell the dew, Rigissa flung o’er her her mantle of blue.
The lovely maid she her blue mantle put on, And unto the chamber of Stig she is gone.
On the door of the chamber begins she to knock: “Arise, O Child Stig, and thy chamber unlock.”
“At the Ting to appear, I have summoned no wight, And none I’ll admit to my chamber at night.”
She’s fingers, ten fingers, so tiny and small, And out of the door she has picked the nails all.
Fifteen iron nails, and a big stud of brass, Then into the chamber Rigissa could pass.
She sat herself down by the side of the bed, And played with the locks of the young gallant’s head.
She kissed him full oft on his mouth rosy red, But still he remained as were life from him fled.
In her arms the young Stig she so fondly did press, But quiet he lay nor returned her caress.
Child Stig he awoke, and cast up his eyes: “Who wakes me from sleep in this manner?” he cries.
“If I cannot, Rigissa, my rest for thee take, To the Dane King, thy brother, complaint I will make.”
