Note 339 — 41 HIND ETIN
Reading edition
The beauty of the Norse ballads should make an Englishman's heart wring for his loss. They are particularly pretty here, where the forgetful draught is administered; as Norwegian C, A:
Forth came her daughter, as jimp as a wand, She dances a dance, with silver can in hand. 'O where wast thou bred, and where wast thou born? And where were thy maiden-garments shorn?' 'In Norway was I bred, in Norway was I born, And in Norway were my maiden-garments shorn.' The ae first drink from the silver can she drank, What stock she was come of she clean forgat. 'O where wast thou bred, and where wast thou born? And where were thy maiden-garments shorn?' 'In the hill was I bred, and there was I born, In the hill were my maiden-garments shorn.'