Thou hast refus'd a great and noble prey,
To get possession of my closet key.
Lo! here it is, and, when within thy maw,
May'st thou much comfort from the morsel draw!"
The polish'd steel upon the deck she cast,
And off the raven flutter'd from the mast.

Then down at once he plung'd amid the main,
And clove the merman's frightful head in twain;
The foam-clad billows to repose he brought,
And tam'd the tempest with the speed of thought;
Then, with a thrice-repeated demon cry,
He soar'd aloft and vanish'd in the sky:
A soft wind blew the ship towards the land,
And soon Dame Sigrid reach'd the wish'd-for strand.

Once, late at eve, she play'd upon her harp,
Close by the lake where slowly swam the carp;
And, as the moon-beam down upon her shone,
She thought of Norway, and its pine-woods lone.
"Yet love I Denmark," said she, "and the Danes,
For o'er them Alf, my mighty husband, reigns."
Then 'neath her girdle something mov'd and yearn'd,
And into terror all her bliss was turn'd.

"Ah! now I know thy meaning, cruel bird . . . "
Long sat she, then, and neither spoke nor stirr'd.
Faint, through the mist which rob'd the sky in gray,
The pale stars glimmer'd from the milky way.
"Ah! now I know thy meaning, cruel bird . . . "