Rune XXIIIc

"Hear, O maiden, what I tell thee, Learn the tenor of my teaching: Never dress in scanty raiment, Let thy robes be plain and comely, Ever wear the whitest linen, On thy feet wear tidy fur-shoes, For the glory of thy husband, For the honor of thy hero. Tend thou well the sacred sorb-tree, Guard the mountain-ashes planted In the court-yard, widely branching; Beautiful the mountain-ashes, Beautiful their leaves and flowers, Still more beautiful the berries. Thus the exiled one demonstrates That she lives to please her husband, Tries to make her hero happy. "Like the mouse, have ears for hearing, Like the hare, have feet for running, Bend thy neck and turn thy visage Like the juniper and aspen, Thus to watch with care thy goings, Thus to guard thy feet from stumbling, That thou mayest walk in safety. "When thy brother comes from plowing, And thy father from his garners, And thy husband from the woodlands, From his chopping, thy beloved, Give to each a water-basin, Give to each a linen-towel, Speak to each some pleasant greeting. "When thy second mother hastens To thy husband's home and kindred, In her hand a corn-meal measure, Haste thou to the court to meet her, Happy-hearted, bow before her, Take the measure from her fingers, Happy, bear it to thy husband. "If thou shouldst not see distinctly What demands thy next attention, Ask at once thy hero's mother: 'Second mother, my beloved, Name the task to be accomplished By thy willing second daughter, Tell me how to best perform it.' "This should be the mother's answer: 'This the manner of thy workings, Thus thy daily work accomplish: Stamp with diligence and courage, Grind with will and great endurance, Set the millstones well in order, Fill the barley-pans with water, Knead with strength the dough for baking, Place the fagots on the fire-place, That thy ovens may be heated, Bake in love the honey-biscuit, Bake the larger loaves of barley, Rinse to cleanliness thy platters, Polish well thy drinking-vessels. "If thou hearest from the mother, From the mother of thy husband, That the cask for meal is empty, Take the barley from the garners, Hasten to the rooms for grinding. When thou grindest in the chambers, Do not sing in glee and joyance, Turn the grinding-stones in silence, To the mill give up thy singing, Let the side-holes furnish music; Do not sigh as if unhappy, Do not groan as if in trouble, Lest the father think thee weary, Lest thy husband's mother fancy That thy groans mean discontentment, That thy sighing means displeasure. Quickly sift the flour thou grindest, Take it to the casks in buckets, Bake thy hero's bread with pleasure, Knead the dough with care and patience, That thy biscuits may be worthy, That the dough be light and airy. "Shouldst thou see a bucket empty, Take the bucket on thy shoulder, On thine arm a silver-dipper, Hasten off to fill with water From the crystal river flowing; Gracefully thy bucket carry, Bear it firmly by the handles, Hasten houseward like the zephyrs, Hasten like the air of autumn; Do not tarry near the streamlet, At the waters do not linger, That the father may not fancy, Nor the ancient dame imagine, That thou hast beheld thine image, Hast admired thy form and features, Hast admired thy grace and beauty In the mirror of the fountain, In the crystal streamlet's eddies.