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Upon a day, amid the maids that spun
Within the bower at Bathstead, sat Gudrun;
Her father in the firth a-fishing was,
The while her mother through the meads did pass
About some homely work. So there she sat,

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Nor set her hand to this work or to that,
And a half-frown was on her pensive face,
Nor did she heed the chatter of the place
As girl spake unto girl. Then did she hear
The sound of horse-hoofs swiftly drawing near,
And started up, and cried: “That shall be Guest,
Riding, as still his wont is, from the west
Unto the Thing, and this is just the day
When he is wont at Bathstead to make stay.”
Then to the door she went, and with slim hand
Put it aback, and 'twixt the posts did stand,
And saw therewith a goodly company
Ride up the grey slopes leading from the sea.