Which bright as thyself, and as beautiful grows."

"Sir Fridleif, thy words are but meant to deceive,
Yet tell me what brings thee so late here at eve."

"I cannot find rest, and I cannot find ease,
Though sweet sing the linnets among the wild trees;

"If thou wilt but promise, one day to be mine,
No more shall I sorrow, no more shall I pine."

She sank in his arms, and her cheeks were as red
As the sun when he sinks in his watery bed;

But soon she arose from his loving embrace;
He walk'd by her side, through the wood, for a space.

"Now listen, young Fridleif, the gallant and bold,
Take off from my finger this ring of red gold,

Take off from my finger this ring of red gold,
And part with it not, till in death thou art cold."

Sir Fridleif stood there in a sorrowful plight,
Salt tears wet his eyeballs, and blinded his sight.

"Go home, and I'll come to thy father with speed,
And claim thee from him, on my mighty grey steed."

Sir Fridleif, at night, through the thick forest rode,