Valdemar and Tove (A)

King Valdemar sailed here and there,
—Good sooth,—
He wed little Soffi, a maid so fair,
—King Valdemar he wooed them both.

“Harken, Tove mine, and hear,
Dost thou hold Queen Soffi dear?”

“Less dear to me, I ween
Than my son, I hold the Queen.

“I will give her a good grey steed,
And the name of Queen she shall bear indeed.”

“Harken, Soffi mine, and hear,
Dost thou hold my Tove dear?”

“I love her all so well
As the wild wolf in the dell.

“I will give her castles three,
She may burn therein for me!”

The Queen she spake to her page so small:
“Now bring Tovelille in to the hall!”

So fain was Tove to see the Queen
She clad her at night by the taper’s sheen.

She clad her in a kirtle of blue,
At every seam red gold shone through.

She clad her in a silken sark,
Of eleven maidens the handiwork.

She wrapped her in a cloak of red,
And thus to see the Queen she sped.

“Art fainer with the King to speak
Or the bath with me to seek?”

“Far fainer with the King I’d speak
Than the bath with thee I’d seek!”

Soffi the Queen was strong of arm,
She thrust her in to work her harm.

So hot she heated the fire beneath
That Tovelille could scarce draw breath.

“Help me, Christopher, son of mine!
Soffi will slay me in dule and pine!”

“Oh how should I give help to thee?
Twelve armed men have hold of me!”

Up spake the King, his men among,
“Why goeth not Tove to Evensong?”

Up spake Queen Soffi, red with wrath:
“Thy Tove is wearied with her bath!”

“Well, Soffi, will I pay thy pain,
Shalt never sleep in my bed again!

“Better was she with one cow for dower
Than thou art, Soffi, with town and tower!

“Better was Tove in silken sark
Than thou art, Soffi, with all thy goldsmith’s work!

“Dearer is Tovelil, tho’ she be dead,
Than thou, for all thy gold so red!”

The way was long, the way was drear,
The King himself bore up the bier.
—Good sooth.
King Valdemar, he wooed them both.