Lyborg and Her Mother-in-Law

Sir Volmor away from his home must fare,
And leave his wife to his mother's care.

Fair Lyborg was dancing, and sang the while,
Dame Ingeborg followed her full of guile.

"O wait, and ere Summer and Fall are past,
"I'll silence thy tuneful voice at last."

Fair Lyborg's maidens so gaily sprang,
And she the lay for the dancers sang.

But hardly had pass'd one other day.
Ere Lyborg on bed of sickness lay.

Fair Lyborg was sick and lay so low,
Dame Ingeborg went to her to and fro.

"O give me, dame Ingeborg, mother mine,
"A drop of water to drink, or wine."

"The wine is frozen, and will not run,
"And frozen the tap of my water-tun.

"The cellar is lock'd, and gone the key;
"I cannot tell where that key can be,"

'If frozen the wine and water too,
"Yet open the door, and admit the dew.

"Tnt open I pray the northern door;
"The breezes may yet my strength restore."

"I'll open the door to the bright noon-day,
"And leave thee to bask in its hottest ray '

"Christ, that I had a trusty friend,
"That word to my mother I could but send!"

"My mistress," her own little page replied,
"'Tis I will off with your message ride."

They knew not, but thought none other near;
Dame Ingeborg listened with eager car.

The page sprang up on his horse so high,
And rode as fast as a bird could fly.

In came the page in his kirtle red;
"Your daughter, dame Lyborg, will soon be dead.

"She prays you to haste and come tonight;
"She will not live to the morning's light."

Dame Mettelille bade her grooms, with speed
Go fetch her horses from out the mead.

The horses ran with the wain so fleet
The livelong day in the scalding heat.

The sun shone fiercely, 'twas Midsummer day,
Fair Lyborg sick and in anguish lay.

The Dame a bowl-ful of money took
And went to the loft with smiling look.

"Will any to win this sum of gold
"Put Lyborg alive beneath the mould?

So soon as the coin was duly paid,
That lily beneath the ground they laid.

Proud Mettelille came to the courtyard gate;
Dame Ingeborg near the threshold sate.

"My greeting, Dame Ingeborg, ease my fear,
"And tell me where lies my daughter dear."

"No longer ago than yesterday
"They buried thy daughter beneath the clay."

"Enough then. No further news I crave,
"But show me at once my daughter's grave."

As over the spot her mother trod,
She heard her moaning beneath the sod.

"If any would silver win and gold,
"Come help me to dig away the mould."

Fair Lyborg out of her grave they drew;
Her mother around her a mantle threw.

"O speak to me, Lyborg, my daughter dear,
"So gladly alive I see thee here:

"Now tell me what Ingeborg's death shall be,
"The wretch that alive has buried thee."

"She wish'd to have kill'd me, the hateful wife;
"But prithee, dear mother, spare her life."

"Not so: Dame Ingeborg now shall learn,
"What means it to sit in the fire and burn."

Dame Mettelille call'd her servants twain,
"Go build her a pyre on yonder plain.

"Hew boughs of the ash, and boughs of oak,
"That fiercely the tire may blaze and smoke."

Outside of the town they dragg'd the dame,
And burnt her there in the crackling flame.

Sir Volmor in haste came back from war,
The news of her sentence had spread so far.

'Twas dismal and earnest the news he learnt;
His wife was gone, and his mother burnt.

He offer'd for Lyborg gifts and gold.
But never that lily could more behold.

To gain her he five of his forts would give,
But never with him would Lyborg live.

To presents or prayers she gave no heed,
And this was his own base mother's deed.