For their master was nigh slain.
They said, 'Knight, do thou rest
A while now if thou list.
Never yet have we had
From man strokes so bad,
Except from Murry the king;
Spear he could mightily fling,

He was of young Horn's kin,

We slew him in Sudenne.'

orn to shudder began,

And his blood full chilly ran.

He saw them by him stand

That had driven him from his land,

And that his father slew.

Betimes his sword he drew,

He looked upon his ring,

And thought on Rymenhild young.
Some he made sore to smart,
He smote them to the heart.
The Paynims that were so stern,
To ship they would return.
Horn and his company
Gan after them swiftly hie.
But the cursed Paynims slew
King Thurston's children two;
Then was Cutberd wo,
And the Paynims he smote so
That he slew every hound
Ere they their vessel found,
On the ground all bloody laid;
For his father's death they paid.
Of all king Thurston's men
There were but few were slain,
But the king saw with his eye

His sons before him die.
The king with rueful cheer

Let lay his sons on bier,
And bring them into hall;
Much dolour made they all.
In a church of lime and stone
He buried them all alone.

The king spake in the hall
Amongst his knights all:

'Cutberd, were't not for thee,
Dead we all should be.
Slain is mine own heir;
And thou art debonair,
Thou art great of strength,
And fair of body's length.
Mine heir I thee make,
And to thy spouse thou take
My daughter with her dower
Who sitteth soft in bower.'
'Harken, sir king,' quoth he;
'Uncomely it would be
That I thy daughter take
Or me thine heir thou make.
I shall serve thee faithfully
And well before thou die.
Thy woes shall disappear
Ere the end of seven year.
When seven years are past,
Grant my reward at last;
When her I ask of thee,
Refuse her not to me.'

Tutberd the knight dwelt there

All of a seven year,

That he never either sent
Nor to Rymenhild went;
She was in Westernesse
All sorry and comfortless.

The seventh year that next
Came after the sixth,

A king there gan arrive

That with Rymenhild would wive. Agreed he was with the king

To make with her this wedding.

The days were short, and wild
Waxed maiden Rymenhild,
She durst tarry nowise;

A writ she gan devise,

And Athulf Child to write,

Who to Horn bare love not light.

She sent her posts abroad,

That to all lands sailed and rode, To seek wherever they might

Tidings of Horn the knight.

orn nothing thereof heard;
Till one day that he fared

To hunt far in the wood,
A boy before him stood.

'Friend,' quoth Horn, 'now speak, What here dost thou seek?'

'Knight, if it be thy will,

Soon I may thee tell.

I seek here afar

Horn the bold in war,

For a maiden Rymenhild

That after him waxeth wild.

King Modi her will wed,
On Sunday to his bed.
Modi in Reynes was born,
And is enemy to Horn.

I have walked far and wide,
All by the sea side;

Him might I never reach
With any kind of speech,

Of him might never hear
In no land far or near.
Alack! on earthly ground
Is he no where to be found.
Alack for Rymenhild!

Now will she be beguiled.'
Horn heard with his ears,
And spake with bitter tears:
'Boy, may it well betide thee!
Horn standeth beside thee.
To Rymenhild return,
And bid her not to mourn.
I shall be there betime,
On Sunday long ere prime.'
Away went that boy,
And hied again with joy.

B

ut the boy drowned on the morrow. Well might his lady have sorrow! The sea him gan up-throw

By her window below.

She undid the door-pin

Of her bower that she was in,

To look forth with her eye,

If she aught of Horn could spy.
Her messenger all drowned
Upon the sand she found,
Who Horn to her should bring.
Her fingers she gan wring.

Those who his father killed.

'Pay me now,' quoth he,
'For my service, king so free,
Cure the woe I am in,
Help me Rymenhild win,
And I shall do to spouse
The daughter of thy house,
To spouse she shall have
My fellow Athulf brave,
A good knight with the best,
And of all worthiest.'
The king said all still,
'Horn, have now thy will.'

en he gan

Me command

To go throughout his land, For many an Irish knight On Horn's behalf to fight. To Horn there came enow, And to the ship they drew. He took to the sea-flood Upon a galley good. The sea began to flow, The wind began to blow And to Westernesse drive. At last they gan arrive, Before the day was sprung, Or bells for matins rung. They struck sail and mast, And anchor gan to cast. The wedding Mass was sung For Rymenhild the young, And Horn was on the water,—

Well he came no later!

He let his vessel stand,

And went upon the land.

His folk he let abide

All under a wood's side.