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"Vidosava, my faithful wife,
I dreamed a strange dream last night.
A tuft of mist writhed out
From Vasoje's accursed country,140
And twined itself round Durmitor;
Through the mist I took my way
With my nine dear brothers,
And the twelve brothers' sons,
And forty men-at-arms from the Castle;
In the mist, dear wife, we parted,
We parted and met no more.
God wot—this bodeth no good thing."
His wife Vidosava made answer to him:
"Fear not, dear my Lord,150
A good hero hath dreamt a good dream;
Dreams are lies, God alone is truth."
Vojvoda Momčilo made him ready to go forth,
And he came down from the White Tower.
Nine dear brothers await him,
And twelve brothers' sons,
And forty soldiers from the Castle.
His wife led out the white steed,
They mount the good horses,
And fare forth to hunt by the lake.160
When they were come to the lake side,
The mighty host encompassed them about,
And when Momčilo was ware of the host,
He pulled at the sword by his side,
But in no wise could he draw it,
It was as if rooted in the sheath.
Then spake Vojvoda Momčilo:
"Hear ye my brothers!
Vidosava—the she-hound—hath betrayed me,
So give me a sword of the best."170
Quickly the brothers obeyed him
They gave him a sword of the best,
And Momčilo spake to his brethren:
