The Count of Vender's Daughter

A little babe 'mong dames and maids
In chamber I was bred.
And richly swathed in finest silk
And scarlet cloth so red.
But none may all my trouble know.

But soon a hard stepmother came,
Small favour show'd she me;
She laid me in a gilded chest,
And toss'd me on the sea.

One wave would drift me out afar.
Another hack to land;
Till God should rule it, that at last
I stopped upon the strand.

The flood would carry me ashore.
The ebb afar to sea;
No royal child did breeze e'er drift
So strangely on, as me.

But God had guided so my luck,
The sea threw me on land.
As prowling came a grisly wolf,
And paced along the strand.

Prowling came by a wild grey wolf,
And took me in his jaw.
And all so gently bare me off
Into the greenwood shaw.

Beneath a tree that friendly wolf
Had laid me down with care.
When skipping came a nimble hind,
And took me to her lair.

She fostered me the winter long,
Aye did she more than one;
And first I learnt to creep about.
And then on foot to run.

There eight so happy peaceful years
In greenwood I was kept,
And many a slumber, sweet and sound,
I've in her bosom slept.

No other dress than linden leaves
To clothe me could I find;
Nor other nurse to foster me,
But her, the gentle hind.

One day there came a gallant knight,
A hunter he, so keen,
And shot my foster-mother dead
All in the wood so green.

He shot my foster-mother dead,
While skipping in the field;
But me he wrapped in mantle blue,
And laid me on his shield.

In his own room he fostered me,
That gallant handsome knight.
Till I had grown to be his bride,
And could his love requite.

My father was, as he had heard,
A count of high degree;
And castles held in Vendel's land,
A sovereign lord and free.

Our very first, our wedding night
Began my tale of pain;
Into the court-yard rode his foes,
And he my knight was slain.

That first, the wedding night, I pass'd
In anguish and alarm;
His foes brake down the chamber door,
And slew him on my arm.

My kinsmen then in counsel met,
And me a husband gave;
And he was e'en the cloister Prior,
Sir Nilus, good and grave.

But soon as I to cloister came,
The nuns they.rais'd a din;
By God's high name they swore the Prior
My very near of kin.

They led him out beyond the town,
They stoned him there with stones;
And weeping I stood looking on,
And heard his dying groans.

My friends in council met again.
And husband found for me;
A prince, the son of England's king.
Sir Engelbert was he.

We lived together a winter long,
We lived through winters nine;
And ten sons had I borne my lord.
All gallant youths and fine.

At last broke war upon the land.
And brought.me grief again.
For with my lord, Sir Engelbert,
Nine of our sons were slain.

My sons and husband both were kill'd,
For that I grieve so sore,
The tenth they took to a foreign land,
I never saw him more.

As numerous now my sorrows are
As threads, that maidens spin;
God bless in heaven Sir Engelbert,
So pure his heart from sin!

And now in cloister I will dwell
Apart from worldly care,
And never more a husband wed,
But pass my life in prayer.

And here I'll learn me under foot
To tread my useless grief;
For all the more I mourn and sigh,
The less I find relief.