heart is like to break with grief."

Horn Is Disguised as a Palmer

"Come, palmer," said Horn, "lend me your cloak and scrip. I must see
this strange bridal, and it may be I shall make some there repent of
the wrong they have done to a helpless maiden. I will essay to enter."
The change was soon made, and Horn darkened his face and hands as if
bronzed with Eastern suns, bowed his back, and gave his voice an old
man's feebleness, so that no man would have known him; which done, he
made his way to King Modi's new castle. Here he begged admittance for
charity's sake, that he might share the broken bits of the wedding
feast; but he was churlishly refused by the porter, who would not be
moved by any entreaties. At last Horn lost all patience, and broke
open the door, and threw the porter out over the drawbridge into the
moat; then, once more assuming his disguise, he made his way into the
hall and sat down in the beggars' row.

The Recognition

Rymenhild was weeping still, and her stern husband seemed only angered
by her tears. Horn looked about cautiously, but saw no sign of Athulf,
his trusted comrade; for he was at this time eagerly looking for his
friend's coming from the lofty watch-tower, and lamenting that he
could guard the princess no longer. At last, when the banquet was
nearly over, Rymenhild rose to pour out wine for the guests, as the
custom was then; and she bore a horn of ale or wine along the benches
to each person there. Horn, sitting humbly on the ground, called out:
"Come, courteous Queen, turn to me, for we beggars are thirsty folk."
Rymenhild smiled sadly, and, setting down the horn, filled a bowl with
brown ale, for she thought him a drunkard. "Here, drink this, and more
besides, if thou wilt; I never saw so bold a beggar," she said. But
Horn refused. He handed the bowl to the other beggars, and said:
"Lady, I will drink nought but from a silver cup, for I am not what
you think me. I am no beggar, but a fisher, come from afar to fish at
thy wedding feast. My net lies near by, and has lain there for seven
years, and I am come to see if it has caught any fish. Drink to me,
and drink to Horn from thy horn, for far have I journeyed."

When the palmer spoke of fishing, and his seven-year-old net,
Rymenhild felt cold at heart; she did not recognise him, but wondered
greatly when he bade her drink "to Horn." She filled her cup and gave
it to the palmer, saying, "Drink thy fill, and then tell me if tho