Then flew away the bird of prey, With an eldritch shriek he’s flown: “Whene’er I meet Germand Gladenswayne I’ll remember he’s my own.”
When Germand fifteen years had reached He’d fain a damsel wed; He loved the daughter of England’s king, The angel-lovely maid.
His longing to be with his plighted maid He might no more withstand: “O how shall I come across the foam To the flood-encircled land?”
It was Germand Gladenswayne, He donned his best array; And he has ta’en to his mother dear To the lofty hall his way.
In came Germand Gladenswayne, In scarlet clad was he: “O mother lend me thy feather robe To fly across the sea.”
“My feather robe hangs upon the crook, The feathers droop so low, If thou dost fly to the foreign land I shall see thee never moe.
“The pinions are so broad that they Grow heavy in the air, I’ll have another made for me If I live another year.”
He set himself in the feather robe, Flew o’er the ocean straight; And there met him the raven wild, Beneath a rock did wait.
He flew up, and he flew down, He flew in fearless guise; And when he reached the midst of the sea He heard a frightful voice.
“Ha, well met, Germand Gladenswayne, O’er long hast thou delay’d; Thou wast but little when to me A present thou wast made!”
“O let me fare, O let me fly, To speak my maiden dear; Be sure that I, when her I’ve seen, Again will meet thee here.”
“Then I will let thee fly, but still My mark on thee will set, Lest thou midst knights and beauteous dames Thy raven lord forget.”
Then out the boy’s right eye he tore, And drank up half his blood; But still he reached the bower of his bride, His heart was yet so good.
He set himself by the Damsels’ bower, All bloody and distrest; All the dames within that were Forgot to smile and jest.
All the damsels grew so still, With horror sat they fast; Except proud Damsel Adelude, Aside her work she cast.
All the maids within forsook Both jest and merry note; ’Twas the proud Damsel Adelude Her hands together smote.
“Now welcome, Germand Gladenswayne, Where hast thou been to play? Say, why bebloodied are thy clothes, And pale thy cheeks as clay?”
“Farewell, dear Damsel Adelude, I soon from thee must fly; For he must have my youthful life Who tore from me my eye.”
