For mark this well: it hath ever been found
That those who in caverns deep lie bound
Are lightly freed by the harp's glad sound.
He saw her prisoned, he heard her wail—
But he cast unheeding his harp aside,
Hoisted straightway his silken sail,
And sped away o'er the waters wide
To stranger strands with his new-found bride.
[With ever-increasing passion.
So fair was thy touch on the golden strings
That my breast heaves high and my spirit sings!
I must out, I must out to the sweet green leas!
I die in the Hill-King's fastnesses!
He mocks at my woe as he clasps his bride
And sails away o'er the waters wide!
[Shrieks.
With me all is over; my hill-prison barred;
Unsunned is the day, and the night all unstarred.
[She totters and, fainting, seeks to support herself against the trunk of a tree.
Signë.
[Weeping, has rushed up to her, and takes her in her arms.] Margit! My sister!
Gudmund.
[At the same time, supporting her.] Help! Help! she is dying!
[Bengt and the Guests flock round them with cries of alarm.
