The Songs of Ranild

An apartment they entered, full lofty and fair,
Was crowded with women so courtly of air.

All of red amber composed was the floor,
The roof with gilt letters was written all o’er.

The table it was of the red shining gold
The napkin of Agerwool rare to behold.

The walls were constructed of fair marble stone,
The beams of the roof of the whitest whale bone.

On the floor they are dancing with rapture so high,
Tall, slender, and stately Sir Stig dances by.

Straight and slim as a sapling Child Stig dances up,
In each hand holding a fair silver cup.

Child Stig to the health of his bonny bride quaffed,
And forest and meadow delightedly laughed.

The forest it bloomed, the boughs leaves put forth —
She excels every damsel in beauty and worth.

Late in the evening the mist it descends,
Child Stig his young bride to her chamber attends.

Now gallant Child Stig has o’ercome his distress,
He sleeps in the arm of a lovely princess.

And Damsel Rigissa is free from her fright,
By the side of Child Stig she reposes each night.

“Dear Foster dame, give me some counsel, I pray,
How I may escape from this palace away.

“To cast the Rune letters at Kirstin I meant,
But under the dress of Rigissa they went.

“I will mount my good courser so true and so tried,
And away to the ends of the earth I will ride.”

Said she: “Shouldst thou travel all Finland around,
This night at thy couch will Rigissa be found.

“And e’en shouldst thou ride to the earth’s farthest land,
This night by thy couch she will certainly stand.

“But, Child Stig, I advise thee, call up a good heart,
And home to thy bed and thy slumbers depart.

“She’ll tap on the door of thy chamber, I ween,
But still do thou keep, let her in by no mean.

“But ten fingers has she, so tiny and small,
And with them from the door she will pick the nails all.

“She will set herself down on the side of thy bed,
And play with the long yellow locks of thy head.

“So fondly she’ll stroke thy fair cheek in the dark,
But do thou remain as thou wert stiff and stark.

“She’ll kiss thee full oft on thy lips rosy red,
But do thou lie still as were life from thee fled.”

Child Stig he gave ear to his foster dame’s rede,
And away to his bed he betook him with speed.

’Twas late in the even, and down fell the dew,
Rigissa flung o’er her her mantle of blue.

The lovely maid she her blue mantle put on,
And unto the chamber of Stig she is gone.

On the door of the chamber begins she to knock:
“Arise, O Child Stig, and thy chamber unlock.”

“At the Ting to appear, I have summoned no wight,
And none I’ll admit to my chamber at night.”

She’s fingers, ten fingers, so tiny and small,
And out of the door she has picked the nails all.

Fifteen iron nails, and a big stud of brass,
Then into the chamber Rigissa could pass.

She sat herself down by the side of the bed,
And played with the locks of the young gallant’s head.

She kissed him full oft on his mouth rosy red,
But still he remained as were life from him fled.

In her arms the young Stig she so fondly did press,
But quiet he lay nor returned her caress.

Child Stig he awoke, and cast up his eyes:
“Who wakes me from sleep in this manner?” he cries.

“If I cannot, Rigissa, my rest for thee take,