It was Erik the Danish King,
   A damnable deed the King he wrought;
He forc’d with might that Lady bright,
   Whilst her good Lord his battles fought.

It was the young Sir Marshal Stig
   Came home again from the battle field.
To him then sped such tidings dread,
   His very blood those tidings chill’d.

And when he came to his country home,
   Away to his castle Sir Stig he rode;
Then Ingeborg Dame for very shame
   No word of welcome on him bestow’d.

It was the young and bold Marsk Stig,
   So swiftly in at the door he hies;
His beauteous dame for very shame
   To welcome the Marshal could not rise.

p. 11And long stood he, the young Marsk Stig,
   And thus within himself thought he;
“Now wherefore shows my beauteous spouse
   No more . . . Read More