The Wicked Mother-in-Law

Sir Ov has daughter but only one,
All under the mountain side
And she to Elling as bride is gone,
So warily there they ride.

Sir Styg Kob was her husband bight,
A gentleman he, and a gallant knight.

Twelve months, twelve wearisome months so slow
With twins did the lady Thor go.

They brought her here, and they took her there,
But worse was her state with all their care.

Sir Styg, wrapt in his purple cloak,
Went up to his mother's bower and spoke.

"Dear mother, your counsel! for great my grief;
"Say, when shall my Thor find relief?"

"None finds she, till she in. childbirth pain
"A twelvemonth and forty weeks has lain."

"Ah, no! that cannot indeed be so,
For forty only did Mary go."

Thor: "Since here my anguish is still the same,
"Pray carry me back to whence I came."

"The steeds have been to their pasture led,
"he groomboys are all asleep in bed."

"If neither coachman is here nor swain,
"I'll venture on foot across the plain."

These words had Thorelille scarcely said,
Before to the gate the steeds were led.

Sir Styg he lifted her up with pain,
And laid her down on the gilded wain.

He gently laid her on cushions blue.
And drove her safely the courtyard through.

But when to the wood of rose they came,
Brake down with the weight the carriage frame.

"I must a most wondrous woman he,
"That thus my carriage should break with me"

"Fear not, my Thorelille,' he replied,
"I'll walk and you shall on horseback ride.'

'Twas so they came to the outer gate,
Where Mett, Sir Styg's sister, sate.

"O sister, prithee, good counsel give,
"Say how my Thor we may relieve."

Fair Mettelille followed the wild heath tracks.
And two little babies made of wax;

Then wrapp'd her head in a scarlet cloak,
And thus to her mother went, and spoke.

"O mother, forego your grief and fear,
"And take on your arm your grandsons here."

"What? did I not then with key and ring
"Reverse and spell-bind every thing?

"I surely the room with spells possessed,
"Save under Thorelille's bridal chest."

Full quickly they made the chest give place,
And laid her down on the vacant space.

She scarcely a moment was seated there.
Before she two healthy children bare.

"O grant me, heaven, for mercy's sake,
"But time my dying bequests to make.

"My gown of the silk with pain and woe,
"Let that to Sir Styge's mother go.

"My silver'd shoes to his sister hear,
"With gladness and comfort long to wear.

"To dear Sir Styg a rose I give,
"Grant God that it soon with him may live!"