THE KING'S DAUGHTER

O barren sea, thou bitter bird,
And a barren tale my ears have heard.


THE RAVEN

Thy father's men were hard thereby
In byrny bright and helmet high.


THE KING'S DAUGHTER

O worser waxeth thy story far,
For these drew upon me bolt and bar.
Fly south, O fowl, to the field of death
For nothing sweet thy grey neb saith.


THE RAVEN

O, there was Olaf the lily-rose,
As fair as any oak that grows.


THE KING'S DAUGHTER