Sir Olave and Fair Mettelille

As home Sir Lave rode from town,
To welcome him ran his daughter down.

"O welcome, my father, home from Ting!
"Now enter and tell me the news you bring."

"In every month the news is rife,
"That thou art to be Sir Olave's wife/'

"If pledged me the knight his hand indeed,
"God bless him, and well his purpose speed."

But soon Sir Olave on sickbed lay.
And sent his page for his trothplight may.

"Go bid her her virtue and love to show,
"And visit me now that I lie so low."

Fair Mett in mantle wrapped her head,
And up to her mother's chamber sped.

"O tell me, mother, if dare a maid
"Go visit a lover on sickbed laid?"

"No shame but honour deserves the maid,
"Who visits a lover on sickbed laid."

Fair Mett in tears led out her steed,
And mounted and rode to the knight's with speed.

And soon she came to his courtyard gate,
Where wrapped in her robes his mother sate.

"Dame Sidselille, hail! and kindly say,
"How fares my trulove, your son, today?"

"III fares your trulove and knight so dear, —
"Sir Olave is dead and on his bier/'

She trusted her not, nor heard her more,
But rode and stopp'd at Sir Olave's door.

So soon as he saw her before him stand,
The Knight to welcome her gave his hand:

Then beckoned a nimble pageboy near;
"Go fetch me the gilded casket here."

The casket upon his knee he placed,
And her with its precious treasure graced.

Gold rings and bracelets he gave her nine,
That glitter'd with jewels' costly shine.

He gave her his broadest brooches too;
To see it his mother angry grew.

"But gently, my son, and give not all,
"But think on my brothers and sisters small."

"My brothers have homesteads and land beside,
"But ne'er at my table has sat my bride.

"My sisters have cornfields and grassy lea,
"My dearest came never to bed with me."

Then round to the wall he turn'd his head.
And sank,' and at midnight hour was dead.

Sir Olave was laid in his silent grave,
And Mett her hand to his brother gave.