Sir Tideman and Blidelill

It was the knight Sir Tideman
Sat quaffing wine at board.
And gaily among his comrades joked
With many a merry word.
It is dawning under the hill.

"If I win not fair Blidelil
"With gift or word of lip,
"I'll write and send her runes so strong,
"Shall lure her aboard my ship."

He wrote a 'pair of potent runes,
And toss'd them towards the land,
And bade them both to float ashore
To Blidelil's fair hand.

There went the maiden Blidelil
To walk along the Sound,
And saw two little scribbled chips,
Lay thrown upon the ground.

She gather'd up the little chips.
And stuck them in her sleeve.
And on her pillow laid them down,
As home she came at eve.

That night the maiden Blidelil
At midnight hour awoke,
And scar'd with wondrous dreams she had dream'd,
She thus to her mother spoke.

"I know not whence this longing comes,
"Or how it well can be;
" Tis after one Sir Tideman,
"I never chanced to see."

"Spread over her a silken sheet,
"And velvet counterpane;
"Perhaps our little Blidelil
"May fall asleep again."

But rose and dress'd fair Blidelil,
And left her mother's bower.
And went to walk along the strand
Alone at midnight hour.

As stepp'd the gentle Blidelil
On board the gilded prow,
Up rose the knight, Sir Tideman,
And made the maid his bow.

"Welcome, dear maiden Blidelil,
"Right welcome to my hand!
"And was there then no knight or squire
"In all your father's land?"

"Aye! truly knights there are, and squires,
"And gallant men at home;
"'Tis through the potent runes, you wrote,
"That here you see me come/'

Vex'd was the gentle Blidelil,
Sore vex'd at what he said,
And took the little grassy path.
That to the deep sea led.

Crosswise she spread her arms, and leap'd
From off the rocky bank.
And down beneath the billows blue
To th' Ocean's bottom sank.

Long stood the knight. Sir Tideman,
Lost in sad thought was he;
"And could the gentle Blidelil
"Have drown'd herself for me?"

Long musing on her mournful death
The knight in anguish stood;
Then toss'd aside his purple cloak.
And plunged into the flood.

Ill written were those runes, and sad
The doom that o'er them hung,
That both so soon their death should find,
So highborn and so young.