“When from the battle I come back,
Our love will blossom without lack.
Till then I bid thee diligent be:
Spin thy flax, and keep thinking of me,
As you spin the linen thread.”
PART FOURTH
And in the forest dark and drear,
How sleeps the maid, I want to hear.
From out six wounds her blood is gushing,
And nought to still its awful rushing,
As she lay on the emerald moss.
Gladly she went to meet her fate—
Now death is near her—it is late.
Her body’s cooling her blood is set—
Yes, even the ground with blood is wet,
Alas, that you saw the king!
Behind a rock an old man came,
One could not tell from where he came;
His long gray beard hung below his knees;
He took up the murdered maid with ease,
And carried her to his cell.
“Get up, my lad, the need is great—
Take the gold spinning-wheel of fate;
In the king’s palace they will buy it;
But hear: Only for feet I sell it,
No other pay will answer.”
The lad jumped on his fiery steed,
The spinning-wheel he held with heed.
“Who buys?“ he called at the castle gate,
“Who would buy a spinning-wheel of fate,
Of purest gold, I warrant?”
“Go, my mother, and ask the price,
The spinning-wheel is strong and nice.”
“Buy it, my lady! It is not dear—
My father is cheap—you need not fear,
For two feet he will give it.”
