INGEBORG
(vender hovedet om og siger koldt).
Jeg skønner dig ikke; det, jeg sang, var kun en gammel vise. (stiger ned fra stenen med hæggekvistene i hånden og nærmer sig, idet hun betragter ham stivt.) Men jeg kender en vise til, og den vil jeg sige for dig:
I kongens gård stander gangeren god;
den bejler, som ejer en ridders mod,
han skor den gule, han skor den grå,
den rappeste lægger han sadlen på!
Han løfter sin brud på gangerens ryg,
hun følger ham villig, hun følger ham tryg.
Han rider sig med hende så langt under ø,
med ham vil hun gerne både leve og dø!
INGEBORG.
[Turns her head and speaks coldly.]
I don’t understand you; the song was only an ancient ballad.
[Comes down from the rock with the cherry twigs in her hand, and approaches him as she looks at him fixedly.]
INGEBORG.
But I know another song too, and that I will sing for you:
The king’s court within stand the steeds so fair;
The suitor who lacks not the courage to dare,--
He shoes the yellow, he shoes the gray,
The swiftest he saddles before it is day!
He places his bride on the steed behind,
She follows him safe, she follows him blind.
He rides with her off, to the sea they hie,
With him she would willingly live and die!
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