The Elfin Shaft

Sir Oluf hath ridden west and east
To bid his friends to his bridal feast.
—Gay goes the dance by the greenwood tree.

By the howe he took his way,
And there danced elf and fay.

There they danced in blithesome band;
The Elf-king’s daughter reached forth her hand.

The Elf-king’s daughter her hand stretched she:
“And will Sir Oluf tread a measure with me?”

“I may not, I dare not, the measure tread!
To-morrow morn shall I be wed.”

“Oh, tread now a measure, Sir Oluf, with me!
Two buckskin boots will I give to thee,

“Boots well beseeming a knight so bold,
With spurs thereto of red, red gold.

“Oh, tread now a measure, Sir Oluf, with me!
A silken kirtle I’ll give to thee,

“A silken kirtle so fair and fine
That my mother bleached in the pale moonshine.”

“I may not, I dare not, the measure tread!
To-morrow morn shall I be wed.”

“Oh, tread now a measure, Sir Oluf, with me!
An orb of gold I will give to thee.”

“An orb of gold I fain would win,
But I may not dance with the fairy kin.”

“And if thou wilt not dance with me,
Scathe and sickness shall follow thee!”

She struck Sir Oluf under his heart,
Deep in its roots he felt the smart.

She lifted him up on his horse of pride:
“Go home, go home, and seek thy bride!”

Oh, he rode up to his castle door,
And it was his mother that stood before.

“Lithe now and listen, Sir Oluf my son,
Why is thy cheek so white and wan?”

“Well may my cheek be wan and white,
I have seen the elf-maids’ sport to-night!”

“Lithe now and listen, dear son of mine,
What shall I say to that bride of thine?”

“Shalt say I am in the mead
A-proving hound and steed.”

All on the morrow ere dawn was grey
The bride rode in with glad array

They poured the mead and they poured the wine:
“Now where is Sir Oluf, dear bridegroom mine?”

“Sir Oluf is in the mead
A-proving hound and steed.”

“Oh, doth he love hound and horse of pride
Better than he loves his bride?”

She sought him alow, she sought him aloft,
She found Sir Oluf sleeping soft.

She lifted the cloak of scarlet red,
There lay Sir Oluf, was cold and dead.

She kissed him in the bridal-bower,
She died herself the self-same hour.

All so early, ere dawn was red,
Were three in Sir Oluf’s hold lay dead.

Sir Oluf lay dead, and his bride also;
The third was his mother, that died for woe.
—The dance goes gay by the greenwood tree.