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+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" />
+<title>The Serpent Knight, translated by George Borrow</title>
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Serpent Knight, by Anonymous, Edited by
+Thomas J. Wise, Translated by George Borrow
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Serpent Knight
+ and other ballads
+
+
+Translator: George Borrow
+
+Editor: Thomas J. Wise
+
+Release Date: August 9, 2009 [eBook #29649]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SERPENT KNIGHT***
+</pre>
+<p>Transcribed from the 1913 Thomas Wise pamphlet by David Price,
+email ccx074@pglaf.org.</p>
+<h1>THE SERPENT KNIGHT<br />
+<span class="smcap">and</span><br />
+OTHER BALLADS</h1>
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">by</span><br />
+GEORGE BORROW</p>
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p style="text-align: center"><span
+class="smcap">London</span>:<br />
+<span class="smcap">printed for private circulation</span><br />
+1913</p>
+<h2><!-- page 5--><a name="page5"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+5</span>Table of Contents</h2>
+<table>
+<tr>
+<td><p>&nbsp;</p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span
+class="smcap">page</span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">The Serpent King</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page7">7</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">Sir Olaf</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page10">10</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">The Treacherous Merman</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page15">15</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">The Knight in the Deer&rsquo;s
+Shape</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page18">18</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">The Stalwart Monk</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page24">24</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">The Cruel Step-dame</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page30">30</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">The Cuckoo</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page34">34</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<h2><!-- page 7--><a name="page7"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+7</span> THE SERPENT KNIGHT</h2>
+<p class="poetry">Signelil sits in her bower alone,<br />
+Of her golden harp she waked the tone.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Beneath her mantle her harp she played,<br />
+Then in came striding the worm so laid.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;Proud Signelil, if thou me wilt wed,<br
+/>
+I&rsquo;ll give thee store of gold so red.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;Forbid the heavenly God so great<br />
+That I should become the Lindworm&rsquo;s mate.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;Since thee I may not for a wife
+acquire,<br />
+Kiss me only and I&rsquo;ll retire.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry">The linen so white betwixt she placed,<br />
+And the laidly worm she kissed in haste.</p>
+<p class="poetry"><!-- page 8--><a name="page8"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 8</span>With his tail of serpent up strook
+he,<br />
+From beneath her dress the blood ran free.</p>
+<p class="poetry">The Lindworm down from the chamber strode,<br
+/>
+Wringing her hands behind she trode.</p>
+<p class="poetry">And when she came out upon the stair<br />
+Her seven bold brothers met her there.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;Welcome our sister, whither dost hie?<br
+/>
+Keep&rsquo;st thou the Lindworm company?&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;Ah, yes! with the laidly worm I go,<br
+/>
+Because hard fate will have it so.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry">The Lindworm into the mountain strode,<br />
+Wringing her hands behind she trode.</p>
+<p class="poetry">She fell on her knee, and her prayer she
+made,<br />
+&ldquo;Now son of Mary deign to aid.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry">And when he had come to the mountain in,<br />
+Off he cast his serpent&rsquo;s skin.</p>
+<p class="poetry">His snake&rsquo;s appearance off he shook,<br
+/>
+And the form of a stately knight he took.</p>
+<p class="poetry"><!-- page 9--><a name="page9"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 9</span>&ldquo;Thanks for thy trouble, proud
+Signelil,<br />
+Now live and die with thee I will.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry">Now is proud Signild free from fright,<br />
+In a prince&rsquo;s arm she sleeps each night.</p>
+<h2><!-- page 10--><a name="page10"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+10</span>SIR OLAF</h2>
+<p class="poetry">Sir Olaf rides on his courser tall,<br />
+Guests to bid to his bridal hall.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; <i>Gaily they dance in the greenwood</i>.</p>
+<p class="poetry">In fours and fives the elfins dance,<br />
+The elf-king&rsquo;s daughter I see advance.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; <i>Gaily they dance in the greenwood</i>.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;Sir Olaf, cease so fierce to ride,<br />
+And dance with me for a little tide.&rdquo;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; <i>Gaily they dance in the greenwood</i>.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;I may not dance, I may not stay,<br />
+To-morrow is my bridal day.&rdquo;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; <i>Gaily they dance in the greenwood</i>.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;Sir Olaf, if thou wilt dance with me,<br
+/>
+Two buckskin boots I&rsquo;ll give to thee.&rdquo;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; <i>Gaily they dance in the greenwood</i>.</p>
+<p class="poetry"><!-- page 11--><a name="page11"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 11</span>&ldquo;I dare not dance, I dare not
+stay,<br />
+To-morrow is my bridal day.&rdquo;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; <i>Gaily they dance in the greenwood</i>.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;Sir Olaf, if thou wilt dance with me,<br
+/>
+A silken shirt I&rsquo;ll give to thee.&rdquo;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; <i>Gaily they dance in the greenwood</i>.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;A silken shirt so fair and fine,<br />
+Which my mother bleach&rsquo;d in the pale moon-shine.&rdquo;<br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp; <i>Gaily they dance in the greenwood</i>.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;I dare not dance, I must away,<br />
+To-morrow is my bridal day.&rdquo;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; <i>Gaily they dance in the greenwood</i>.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;Sir Olaf, if thou wilt dance with me,<br
+/>
+A helm of gold I&rsquo;ll give to thee.&rdquo;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; <i>Gaily they dance in the greenwood</i>.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;A helm of gold is a bonny thing,<br />
+But I dare not tread the elfin ring.&rdquo;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; <i>Gaily they dance in the greenwood</i>.</p>
+<p class="poetry"><!-- page 12--><a name="page12"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 12</span>&ldquo;And if thou wilt not dance
+with me,<br />
+Disease and death shall follow thee.&rdquo;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; <i>Gaily they dance in the greenwood</i>.</p>
+<p class="poetry">She struck him on the shoulder bone,<br />
+Fiercer pain he ne&rsquo;er had known.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; <i>Gaily they dance in the greenwood</i>.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Upon his steed she lifts the knight,<br />
+&ldquo;Now hie thee home to thy heart&rsquo;s delight.&rdquo;<br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp; <i>Gaily they dance in the greenwood</i>.</p>
+<p class="poetry">And when he came to his home so late,<br />
+His mother stood at the castle gate.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; <i>Gaily they dance in the greenwood</i>.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;Now tell to me, my dearest son,<br />
+Why look&rsquo;st so pale and woe-begone?&rdquo;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; <i>Gaily they dance in the greenwood</i>.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;O well may he look pale, I ween,<br />
+Who has felt the stroke of the Elfin Queen.&rdquo;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; <i>Gaily they dance in the greenwood</i>.</p>
+<p class="poetry"><!-- page 13--><a name="page13"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 13</span>&ldquo;Sir Olaf, list, my joy and
+pride,<br />
+What shall I say to thy youthful bride?&rdquo;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; <i>Gaily they dance in the greenwood</i>.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;Thou&rsquo;lt tell my bride the wood I
+rove,<br />
+My courser and my hounds to prove.&rdquo;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; <i>Gaily they dance in the greenwood</i>.</p>
+<p class="poetry">The next, next morn at break of day<br />
+The bride arrives with her friends so gay.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; <i>Gaily they dance in the greenwood</i>.</p>
+<p class="poetry">They skink&eacute;d mead, they skink&eacute;d
+wine:<br />
+&ldquo;Where is Sir Olaf, bridegroom mine?&rdquo;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; <i>Gaily they dance in the greenwood</i>.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;Sir Olaf&rsquo;s gone the woods to
+rove,<br />
+His courser and his hounds to prove.&rdquo;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; <i>Gaily they dance in the greenwood</i>.</p>
+<p class="poetry">She lifted up the mantle red,<br />
+There lay Sir Olaf stark and dead.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; <i>Gaily they dance in the greenwood</i>.</p>
+<p class="poetry"><!-- page 14--><a name="page14"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 14</span>The next, next day at early morn,<br
+/>
+Corses three from the gate are borne.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; <i>Gaily they dance in the greenwood</i>.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Olaf the knight, and his youthful bride,<br />
+And his mother dear, who of care had died.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; <i>Gaily they dance in the greenwood</i>.</p>
+<h2><!-- page 15--><a name="page15"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+15</span>THE TREACHEROUS MERMAN</h2>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;Now rede me, mother,&rdquo; the merman
+cried,<br />
+&ldquo;How Marsk Stig&rsquo;s daughter may be my
+bride.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry">She made him of water a noble steed,<br />
+Of sands a saddle, and reins of reed.</p>
+<p class="poetry">To a young knight chang&rsquo;d she then her
+son,<br />
+And to Mary&rsquo;s church at speed he&rsquo;s gone.</p>
+<p class="poetry">To the church&rsquo;s ring his steed he
+bound,<br />
+And three times backward the church pac&rsquo;d round.</p>
+<p class="poetry">When in he strode so proud and tall<br />
+Away the images turned them all.</p>
+<p class="poetry">The priest was standing with open book:<br />
+&ldquo;O who is yon knight of stately look?&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry"><!-- page 16--><a name="page16"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 16</span>Then laughed the maiden within her
+sleeve:<br />
+&ldquo;If he were my husband I should not grieve.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry">He step&rsquo;d over benches one and two:<br />
+&ldquo;O Marsk Stig&rsquo;s daughter I doat on you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry">He stepped over benches three and four:<br />
+&ldquo;Give me thy troth I thee implore.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry">She gave him her hand with an air so free:<br
+/>
+&ldquo;Here take thy troth, I will go with thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry">A bridal train from church they go,<br />
+They danc&rsquo;d so lightly and free from woe.</p>
+<p class="poetry">And when they came to the salt sea strand,<br
+/>
+The little boats turn&rsquo;d away from the land.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;Now Marsk Stig&rsquo;s daughter hold my
+steed,<br />
+To cross the water a boat we need.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry">To a little boat he chang&rsquo;d his steed,<br
+/>
+And over the waves away they speed.</p>
+<p class="poetry">And when in the midst of the sound they
+were,<br />
+Dissolv&rsquo;d the boat into water fair.</p>
+<p class="poetry"><!-- page 17--><a name="page17"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 17</span>Up the land far was heard the cry<br
+/>
+Of Marsk Stig&rsquo;s maid in her agony.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Now will I caution each maiden bright,<br />
+To dance not away with an unknown knight.</p>
+<p><i>Note</i>.&mdash;The above Ballad is a later, and greatly
+improved, version of one which appeared under the title <i>The
+Merman</i> only, in the <i>Romantic Ballads</i> of 1826.&nbsp;
+The introduction of the incident of the changing by magic of the
+horse into a boat, furnishes a reason for the catastrophe which
+was lacking in the earlier version.</p>
+<h2><!-- page 18--><a name="page18"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+18</span>THE KNIGHT IN THE DEER&rsquo;S SHAPE<br />
+<span class="smcap">or</span><br />
+THE DECEIVER DECEIVED</h2>
+<p class="poetry">It was the Knight Sir Peter,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; He dwelleth down by Oe;<br />
+Nothing, nothing, will he do<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; But sail about and row.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Sail about and row about<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Is all that he will do,<br />
+So many a maiden he allures<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And proves to them untrue.</p>
+<p class="poetry">To servants two addressed him,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Sir Peter of the isle:<br />
+&ldquo;With wily speeches win me<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The Damsel Usalile.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry"><!-- page 19--><a name="page19"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 19</span>The gallant swains then riding<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; To Usalile&rsquo;s home,<br />
+A message sent inquiring<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; If they to her might come.</p>
+<p class="poetry">In then came the gallants,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Before the board they stood&mdash;<br />
+O, they were nimble at the tongue,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Could speak in wily mode!</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;Thy brothers seven from Skaane<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Thee lovingly do greet,<br />
+On board this ship to meet them<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Their sister they entreat.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;O if with me for parlance<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; My brothers are inclined,<br />
+Here at her table sitting<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Their sister they will find.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;No lovely maid on shipboard<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Is ever wont to go,<br />
+But sharp reproofs pursue her,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And taunting words, I trow.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry"><!-- page 20--><a name="page20"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 20</span>Away then ride the gallants<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And to their lord repair:<br />
+&ldquo;We cannot win the damsel<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; By means of speeches fair.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;O I will have the damsel,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And she shall yet be won;<br />
+I vow me to deceive her<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; By force of magic Rune.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry">Then o&rsquo;er his broider&rsquo;d
+trousers,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And jacket flower&rsquo;d fair,<br />
+The skin of a hart he donneth<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The maiden to ensnare.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Now sported the wild little hart<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The damsel&rsquo;s house before,<br />
+Glitter&rsquo;d like the ruddy gold<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Each hair the creature bore.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Open stood the castle gate,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The hart therein has stray&rsquo;d;<br />
+And lo with little puppies<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The merry maiden play&rsquo;d.</p>
+<p class="poetry"><!-- page 21--><a name="page21"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 21</span>Up and down he sported,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; To the green wood he sped;<br />
+Behind the Damsel hasting<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; In a leash the puppies led.</p>
+<p class="poetry">He sported up, he sported down,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Towards the mead he hied;<br />
+The Damsel speeding after<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; With hand to lure him tried.</p>
+<p class="poetry">The Damsel speeding after<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; With hand to lure him strove:<br />
+&ldquo;That yonder lovely hart were tame<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; O would to God above!</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;O would to God in heaven,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; That yonder hart were mine!<br />
+Nothing should he ever drink<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Except the rosy wine.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;Nothing should he ever drink<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Except the rosy wine,<br />
+And nowhere should he slumber<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Save in these arms of mine.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry"><!-- page 22--><a name="page22"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 22</span>The knight he off has shaken<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The deer shape from his frame;<br />
+In verity fair damsel,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The hart he now is tame!</p>
+<p class="poetry">Long stood she, the Damsel,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; So deep reflected she:<br />
+&ldquo;O for some cunning artifice<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; To rid me quick of thee!&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;Sir Peter, if what now I know<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; I had but known before,<br />
+The children I shall bear thee<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; They ne&rsquo;er should have been poor.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;Within my father&rsquo;s castle<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; A little girl I strayed,<br />
+When in the earth a treasure<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Of ruddy gold they laid.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;Down by the strand &rsquo;tis buried,<br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Beneath a mighty stone.&rdquo;<br />
+Thither to fetch the treasure<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; In haste Sir Peter&rsquo;s gone.</p>
+<p class="poetry"><!-- page 23--><a name="page23"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 23</span>He has broken up the flinty rock,<br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp; So deep a hole he&rsquo;s made&mdash;<br />
+But none shall ever gold dig up<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Where gold was never laid!</p>
+<p class="poetry">One shall never gold dig up<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Where gold was never laid;<br />
+Never came together more<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The knight and lovely maid.</p>
+<h2><!-- page 24--><a name="page24"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+24</span>THE STALWART MONK</h2>
+<p class="poetry">Above the wood a cloister towers,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Gilt window it displays;<br />
+There lie before it Kempions twelve,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The cloister they will raze.</p>
+<p class="poetry">There lie before it Kempions twelve,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The cloister down will tear;<br />
+The oxen and the cows they slew<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The monks should have for fare.</p>
+<p class="poetry">The monk he out of the window looked,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Then shook both beam and wall:<br />
+&ldquo;And be the Kemps no more than twelve,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; I&rsquo;ll easily tame them all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry">The monk he called to his serving lad:<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; &ldquo;My club go fetch me in,<br />
+For I will out to the forest straight<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And make them cease their din.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry"><!-- page 25--><a name="page25"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 25</span>It took fifteen to bring the club,<br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And they strain&rsquo;d all their might;<br />
+The monk took it up with fingers two<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And swung it round so light.</p>
+<p class="poetry">He takes the club upon his back<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And into the wood he&rsquo;s gone,<br />
+And there met him the Kempions twelve<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Would fain set him upon.</p>
+<p class="poetry">They drew a circle on the ground,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And each one troll&rsquo;d a song;<br />
+I tell to ye for verity<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; He silenced them all ere long.</p>
+<p class="poetry">First slew he four, then slew he five,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; At length he all has slain;<br />
+It was the monk of the shaven crown<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Would gladly fight again.</p>
+<p class="poetry">It was the monk of the shaven crown<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Would seek for another fray,<br />
+So out of the wood across the wold<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; He blythely took his way.</p>
+<p class="poetry"><!-- page 26--><a name="page26"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 26</span>So blythely out of the good green
+wood<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; He sped across the hill,<br />
+And there met him a hoary Trold<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Whose name was Sivord Gill.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;If thou art the monk of the shaven
+crown<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Who scath&rsquo;d the warrior band,<br />
+Thou either from me shalt shamefully flee<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Or manfully &rsquo;gainst me stand.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;I am the monk of the shaven crown<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Who slew the warrior band,<br />
+And never from thee will I shamefully flee<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; But like a man will stand.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry">The first blow gave the Trold, it fell<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Upon the monk&rsquo;s shoulder down,<br />
+&rsquo;Midst of his shoulder broke the skin,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Bebloodied was his gown.</p>
+<p class="poetry">The next blow gave the monk, it struck<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The Trold to the verdant sward:<br />
+&ldquo;Now shame befall thee, shaven Monk,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The blows of thy club are hard.</p>
+<p class="poetry"><!-- page 27--><a name="page27"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 27</span>&ldquo;Now hold thy hand, thou shaven
+Monk,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And do not strike me more,<br />
+And I will give thee silver and gold,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And of coin a plenteous store.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry">The Monk he ran, the Trold he crept,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Still equal was their height;<br />
+Then shewed he him a little house<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; With doors of gold so bright.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Then shewed he him a little house<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; With golden doors fifteen;<br />
+There got the Monk of silver and gold<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; All he could wish I ween.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Seven lasts of silver, seven of gold,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; To the cloisters he caus&rsquo;d convey;<br />
+He bade them find a monk could wield<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; A club in as brave a way.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&rsquo;Twas drawing fast to an evening hour<br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And the sun went down to rest,<br />
+Still fifteen Roman miles the monk<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; To the cloister had at least.</p>
+<p class="poetry"><!-- page 28--><a name="page28"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 28</span>&rsquo;Twas tending fast to the
+evening tide<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And the sun to the earth did haste,<br />
+Yet he seized the first dish at the supper board<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Ere the Abbot could get a taste.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Full fifteen monks he knock&rsquo;d down
+when<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; No pottage he espied,<br />
+And up he hung fifteen because<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The herrings were not fried.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Then out and spoke the little boy<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Who waited at the meal:<br />
+&ldquo;Each time the monk to the cloister comes<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; He thus with us will deal.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry">And it was getting late at night<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And folks to bed should hie,<br />
+Then because the Abbot sat too long<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; He struck him out an eye.</p>
+<p class="poetry">The Abbot hurried off to bed,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; No longer dared remain;<br />
+I say to ye for verity<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; He felt both shame and pain.</p>
+<p class="poetry"><!-- page 29--><a name="page29"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 29</span>&rsquo;Twas early in the morning
+tide,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The bells began to ring;<br />
+It was the monk of the shaven crown<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Would neither read nor sing.</p>
+<p class="poetry">So stately strode he up the choir<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Where the monks and nuns they stand,<br />
+Not one of them dared read or sing<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; For fear of his stalwart hand.</p>
+<p class="poetry">So they the Abbot pious and good<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; To a simple monk debased,<br />
+And they the Monk of the shaven crown<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; As Abbot o&rsquo;er them placed.</p>
+<p class="poetry">And he the cloister held with might<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Till thirty years were flown;<br />
+Then died as Abbot in mighty fame,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The Monk of the shaven crown.</p>
+<h2><!-- page 30--><a name="page30"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+30</span>THE CRUEL STEP-DAME</h2>
+<p class="poetry">My father up of the country rode,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; He thought to wed a lovely rose;<br />
+And there he met a laidly wife,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The source was she of all my woes.</p>
+<p class="poetry">The first night they together slept<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; She seemed to me a mother mild,<br />
+But ere a second night was past<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; She prov&rsquo;d a step-dame fierce and wild.</p>
+<p class="poetry">I sat beside my father&rsquo;s board,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; I sported there with hound and pup,<br />
+And then to blast my blissful lot<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; My step-dame wild came striding up.</p>
+<p class="poetry">That God should make my lot so blest<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; My wicked step-dame could not bear;<br />
+She changed me to a sword so keen,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And bade me far and wide to fare.</p>
+<p class="poetry"><!-- page 31--><a name="page31"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 31</span>By day I grac&rsquo;d the side of the
+knight,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; I hung the hero&rsquo;s heart so near;<br />
+At night I lay beneath his head,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; For his good sword he loved so dear.</p>
+<p class="poetry">That God had made my lot so blest<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; My wicked step-dame could not bear;<br />
+She changed me to a little knife,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And bade me far and wide to fare.</p>
+<p class="poetry">By day I was in the Lady&rsquo;s hand,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The linen white with me she cut;<br />
+At night within her bower I slept,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; All in her golden casket put.</p>
+<p class="poetry">That God had made my lot so blest,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; My wicked step-dame could not bear;<br />
+She changed me to a little hind,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And bade me wander far and near.</p>
+<p class="poetry">She changed me to a little hind,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And bade me wander far and near;<br />
+My seven maids to wolves she changed,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And fiercely urged them me to tear.</p>
+<p class="poetry"><!-- page 32--><a name="page32"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 32</span>My seven maidens were so kind,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; They all refus&rsquo;d the hind to tear;<br />
+Then vexed was my step-mother wild<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; That God had made my lot so fair.</p>
+<p class="poetry">The young Sir Henrik serves at court,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; He is a knight of handsome mien;<br />
+For me he sorrowed day and night,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; But would not let his grief be seen.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Sir Henrik roves with bow in hand<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The good green wood at morning tide;<br />
+Then up there came a little hind,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And fondly she the warrior eyed.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Then up there came a little hind<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Before the young knight as he rang&rsquo;d;<br />
+Then off she cast her bestial shape,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And to a lovely damsel changed.</p>
+<p class="poetry">He took her tenderly in his arm,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; He called her oft his bosom&rsquo;s dear:<br />
+&ldquo;Thrice praised be God in heav&rsquo;n that dwells<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; That I have found my damsel here.</p>
+<p class="poetry"><!-- page 33--><a name="page33"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 33</span>&ldquo;I have not any servant,
+love,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Nor hast thou any maid, my fair,<br />
+So we&rsquo;ll pull down the linden leaves,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And thus our bridal bed prepare.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry">It was then the damsel fair,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Within the bed herself she placed;<br />
+It was the brave Sir Henrik then<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Sweet sank to sleep by her embraced.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Full sorely wept the damsel fair,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; As sleep began his eyes to find;<br />
+Assuming then her bestial shape,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; She went away&mdash;a hapless hind.</p>
+<h2><!-- page 34--><a name="page34"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+34</span>THE CUCKOO</h2>
+<p><i>From the Danish</i>.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Yonder the cuckoo flutters,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; <i>Cuckoo</i>, <i>Cuckoo</i>! he utters,<br />
+And lights the beech upon;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Many a voice is sweeter,<br />
+But do not mock the creature,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Let each enjoy his own.</p>
+<p class="poetry">He knows no notes of passion,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; A new song cannot fashion;<br />
+True to the ancient rule,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; What his good sires respected<br />
+By him is not neglected,&mdash;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Is he for that a fool?</p>
+<p class="poetry"><!-- page 35--><a name="page35"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 35</span>O thou, my human brother,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Who scorning every other<br />
+With self-conceit dost swell,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; We cannot all be gallants,<br />
+Not equal are our talents&mdash;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Thou art no nightingale!</p>
+<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry"><span
+class="smcap">London</span>:<br />
+Printed for THOMAS J. WISE, Hampstead, N.W.<br />
+<i>Edition limited to thirty copies</i>.</p>
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SERPENT KNIGHT***</p>
+<pre>
+
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