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diff --git a/old/68204-0.txt b/old/68204-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 69bde68..0000000 --- a/old/68204-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2257 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Ballads from the Danish and Original -Verses, by E. M. Smith-Dampier - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Ballads from the Danish and Original Verses - -Author: E. M. Smith-Dampier - -Release Date: May 30, 2022 [eBook #68204] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Charlene Taylor, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BALLADS FROM THE DANISH AND -ORIGINAL VERSES *** - - - - - - BALLADS - FROM THE DANISH - - AND - - ORIGINAL VERSES - - - - - BALLADS - FROM THE DANISH - - AND - - ORIGINAL VERSES - - BY - - E. M. SMITH-DAMPIER - - LONDON :: ANDREW MELROSE - 3 YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN - 1910 - - - PRINTED BY - HAZELL, WATSON AND VINEY, LD., - LONDON AND AYLESBURY. - - - TO THE - MEMORY OF MY PARENTS - - - - -CONTENTS - - -BALLADS FROM THE DANISH - - PAGE - -KING OLAF AND THE TROLLS 3 - -SIR KARL’S LYKEWAKE 7 - -THE AVENGING SWORD 10 - -THE AVENGING DAUGHTERS 14 - -YOUNG DANNEVED AND BOY TRUST 17 - -THE KNAVISH MERMAN 21 - -THE WOOD-RAVEN 24 - -AN OWER-TRUE TALE 28 - -THE WOOING OF RANIL JONSON 31 - -LOVEL AND JOHN 34 - -RIME OF THE DEAD LOVER 38 - - -ORIGINAL VERSES - -THE KING’S HUNTING 45 - -BALLAD OF SIR HERLUIN 54 - -BOTHWELL’S SOOTHSAYING 58 - -THE RIDING OF THE SHEE (A BALLAD OF PRINCE CHARLIE) 65 - -BALLAD OF LONDON TOWN (A SONG OF THE ’FORTY-FIVE) 68 - -BALLAD OF THE TRAITOR’S HEAD (1746) 70 - - - - -BALLADS FROM THE DANISH - -NOTE - -_In the translations the metre of -the original has in all cases been -scrupulously followed._ - - - - -KING OLAF AND THE TROLLS - - - He set his sail for Norroway, - Saint Olaf our good king; - For Hornelummer he shaped his course - To see what luck would bring. -(Red as the ruddy gold, the sun sets over Trondhjem.) - - Up and spake the steersman bold, - Stood by the lading-gear: - “At Hornelummer is no good haven, - So grim a troll dwells there: - - “Eyes he hath like a burning brand; - With his mouth he well can roar; - His nails stand out, like the horns of a buck, - A good ell’s length and more; - - “A beard he hath like a horse’s mane, - Hangs downward to his knee; - A long and loathly tail he hath; - His claws they are ill to see.” - - Up and spake Saint Olaf the king, - As the ship swung to and fro: - “Cast off the ropes in the name of God, - And let the vessel go!” - - So soft she sank, so light she rose, - O’er the billows she went a-striding; - And fast she made for Hornelummer, - Where the ugly troll was biding. - - Out he stalked from his hold i’ the hill, - By the rocky rifts a-going, - And there he saw Saint Olaf the king - In his vessel swiftly rowing. - - “Now who comes here, so overbold, - My magic to defy it? - Harken, thou with the ruddy beard! - Full sore thou shalt abye it! - - “Now nor never by this my coast - Dares any ship to linger! - I could drag thee into the rifts o’ the rocks - With the touch of my smallest finger!” - - “Hear now, Ara, thou ancient imp, - Nor anger thyself at all! - Seize thou the ship as it liketh thee, - And see what will befall.” - - He took the ship by stem and stern, - To work her dule and dree, - When lo! he sank down into the stone, - That held him by the knee. - - “Here stand I, sunken in the stone, - To go no more a-roving! - At wrestling or at hand-play hard - Thy strength I’d fain be proving.” - - “Now tarry thou there, thou wilful wight, - All under my powerful charm-- - Tarry thou there till Doomsday dread, - And work no Christian harm.” - - Out came running his evil mate, - And stretched her neck so grim; - Saint Olaf spake one little word, - Bade her stand still by him. - - Up and spake the little trolls - Who sat i’ the hill down under-- - They asked where the mother-troll might be, - With mickle woe and wonder. - - “Perchance this is the Red-beard’s work - Who hath harried our race so long! - But come we forth with our brands of iron, - To work him wrong for wrong.” - - Up and spake our goodly king-- - He held it a game so merry: - “Stone to stone, and rock to rock, - Together ye all shall tarry!” - - Out they sailed from Hornelummer, - Well-pleased with the fair adventure; - The hill he blocked with a mighty stone, - That none therein might enter. - - Thanks, thanks to Olaf our gallant king! - He wrought a goodly charm! - Now men may sail by Hornelummer, - And take no hurt nor harm. - -Red as the ruddy gold, the sun sets over Trondhjem. - - - - -SIR KARL’S LYKEWAKE - - -It was young Sir Karel, - His mother’s rede did pray -If he should to the convent ride, - And bear his love away. -(The roses and the lilies all a-blowing.) - -“Lo, on a bier thou’lt lay thee down, - A corse so white and wan-- -And never a one shall ask of thee - If thou art a living man.” - -Late, so late at even, - Sore sickness on him fell; -All in the early morning - They tolled for him the bell. - -They took him, young Sir Karel, - And streeked him for a corpse; -And all to bear the tidings round, - His page has taken horse. - -Upon his bier they bore him - To the convent door so wide-- -The Prioress came to meet them - With mickle pomp and pride. - -Forth then went his little page, - Was clad in the scarlet red-- -He bade the maidens come to watch-- - “For young Sir Karl is dead.” - -It was little Kirsten - Who asked her mother dear: -“Mother, may I to the watching wend - Over the young knight’s bier?” - -“Put thou on thy scarlet cloak, - And deck thy head with gold; -But be thou ware of young Sir Karl, - His wiles are manifold!” - -She went in where the black bier stood - Betwixt the tapers tall; -She could not see their burning flames - So fast her tears did fall. - -Right soothly for his soul she prayed, - All sitting at his head; -“Alas! thou wast my liefest love - In the days ere thou wast dead!” - -She laid her face against his feet, - All on the linen white-- -“Oh, in the days ere thou wast dead - Thou wast my heart’s delight!” - -Right softly then to her he spake: - “Nay, cease thy bitter crying! -For lo! ’tis all for love of thee - That on this bier I’m lying. - -“My steed stands in the cloister-garth - A-tarrying all for thee, -If thou now, little Kirsten, - Wilt fare afar with me.” - -It was young Sir Karel - Rose up in his shroud so white-- -And as they went from the convent-door - She bade them a gay good-night. - -The nuns they all sat silent, - Each reading on her book; -They thought it was God’s good angel - The beauteous maid that took. - -The nuns they all sat silent-- - Each to herself said she: -“God grant that His good angel - May speedily come for me!” - -The roses and the lilies all a-blowing. - - - - -THE AVENGING SWORD - - -Sir Peter he rode to the castle stout, -The King o’ the Danes he stood without. -(Forward, hurrah! ride forward.) - -“Welcome hither, my comrade good! -Hast thou avenged thy father’s blood?” - -“Oh, I have been so southerly -Until the sun sank down to me. - -“And I have been so westerly -Until the sun set close to me. - -“And I have been so northerly -Until the sun was frore to see. - -“And I have been so easterly -Until the day was fair to see. - -“But never could I find the wight -My father’s death could rede me right.” - -“Say, what gift wilt give the wight -Thy father’s death can rede thee right?” - -“Of silver he shall have his fill, -And of good red gold whate’er he will.” - -He smiled, the king, his words to heed-- -“Here stand I, that did the deed! - -“By God in heaven, I tell thee true! -None but I thy father slew.” - -Sir Peter smote himself on the breast-- -“Heart, be still, nor break thy rest! - -“Heart, be still, bide patiently! -Sure and swift shall my vengeance be!” - -Alone Sir Peter stayed -To speak with his good blade. - -“Harken, sword so good! -Wilt steep thyself in blood? - -“Good brown brand, wilt fight for me? -No brother have I in the world but thee.” - -“Say, how can I fight for thee? -My good hilt lies in pieces three.” - -Straight to the smith he wended -To have the fault amended. - -He gave him iron, he gave him steel -Of proof and price, the hurt to heal. - -“Good brown brand, wilt fight for me? -No brother have I in the world but thee.” - -“Deal thou thy strokes so lustily -As I’ll be sharp and swift for thee. - -“Be thou in thy blows so bold -As strongly to my hilt I’ll hold.” - -Sir Peter went to the hall -Where the knights were drinking all. - -To prove his sword he was so fain, -Eight of the champions there lay slain. - -He struck so strong, he hewed so hard, -Neither wife nor maid he spared. - -Behind the arras there he thrust-- -The king and his sons they bit the dust. - -Up spake the babe, in cradle lay: -“A red revenge dost thou wreak to-day! - -“A red revenge for that sire o’ thine!-- -God give me a day for avenging mine!” - -“And have I avenged him, sire o’ mine? -Thou shalt have no day for avenging thine.” - -He seized the babe amain, -And hewed it straight in twain. - -“Cease, good sword, thy thirst to slake! -Bide thou still, for God his sake!” - -Wearily whispered the sword and still-- -“Fain of thy blood I’d have my fill! - -“Hadst thou not named my name, I vow -I would have slain thee, here and now!” - -Forward, hurrah! ride forward. - - - - -THE AVENGING DAUGHTERS - - -Elder to younger said -(For him who first loved me), -“Sister, wilt thou not wed?” -(She dwells beneath the greenwood tree.) - -“None will I wed while I draw breath -Till I have avenged our father’s death.” - -“Thou speak’st an idle word, -We have neither mail nor sword.” - -“There are rich franklins dwelling hard by-- -Mail will they lend us, and swords to try.” - -Each maiden bound a sword by her side, -Featly fared they forth to ride. - -When they rode to Rosy-Bower -They met Sir Erland the self-same hour. - -“Bridegrooms are ye both, ye two, -Or else ye are riding forth to woo.” - -“Bridegrooms are we not, we two, -But we are riding forth to woo.” - -“I rede ye ride where dwell in a bower -Two fatherless maidens, with gold for dower.” - -“If they have store of pelf -Why seek’st them not thyself?” - -“I would flee them rather, -For I have slain their father, - -“And I have slain their brother, -And I have beguiled their mother.” - -“And hast thou slain father and brother, -Thou liest concerning our mother.” - -So child-like out the swords they drew-- -So man-like did they hack and hew. - -They hewed Sir Erland all so small -As the linden leaves that flutter and fall, - -Sore did the maidens weep for woe -When to shrive them they must go. - -All they got for the deed of dread -Was Fridays three on water and bread! - -For him who first loved me: -She dwells beneath the greenwood tree. - - - - -YOUNG DANNEVED AND BOY TRUST - - -What shall I do in Denmark? -My corselet sore doth gall-- -The Danish knights make mock o’ me, -For I am young and small. -(Ne’er shall I speak good Danish!) - -Firm he sat in the saddle; -His spurs were sharp and long. -At Lundy kirk in Skaane -There heard he even-song. - -Up and spake Sir Peter, -That was his parish priest: -“Welcome to thee, young Danneved! -To-day shalt be my guest.” - -“For meat I will not tarry, -Nor will I wait for wine, -Until I come to Berneskov, -To talk with mother mine.” - -“Harken now, young Danneved, -And give thou heed to me! -A troop of thy deadly foemen -Are lying in wait for thee.” - -“First I trust my goodly sword, -And next my steed so tall, -And then I trust my Danish men-- -But myself the most of all.” - -“First trustest thou thy goodly sword, -And next thy steed so tall-- -Then trustest thou thy Danish men -Will fail thee first of all.” - -It was gallant Danneved -Rode forth i’ the gloaming grey-- -And there he saw his foemen, -Three lances’ length away. - -There he saw his foemen, -Three lances’ length away-- -Then took they leave, his meiné, -To flee from him that day. - -Leave took all his meiné -To turn and flee away, -All save the lad so little, -Who straight did up and say: - -“Lo! thy bread I’ve eaten, -And I have worn thy weed; -And I will stand by thee to-day -To help thee in thy need. - -“I thy sword have sharpened, -And I have stalled thy steed; -And I will stand by thee to-day -To help thee in thy need.” - -They drew their ranks together -All by the greenwood bower-- -Five there fought a couple -With mickle strength and stour. - -They drew their ranks together -Under the greenwood tree-- -Five there fought a couple-- -A fearful fight to see. - -It was gallant Danneved, -His sword sheathed at his side-- -“Come thou hither, little boy Trust, -’Tis time for us to ride.” - -It was gallant Danneved -Rode to his castle fair; -His mother came to meet him -In velvet wrapped and vair. - -“Stand up, now, lady mother, -And pour for us the wine! -For I will give him, little boy Trust, -The hand of sister mine.” - -Ne’er shall I speak good Danish! - - - - -THE KNAVISH MERMAN - - -Gay was the dance in the kirkyard fair. -(Well aday!) -There danced maidens with flowing hair. -(Methinks ’tis hard to ride away.) - -There danced knights with shining sword-- -“None of them all is worth a word!” - -Proud was the Princess, thus did she say, -That heard the merman under water that lay. - -Up stood the merman; thus spake he: -“Perchance the king’s daughter will wed with me.” - -He shaped him garments all glimmering; -He called him Sir Alfast, son of a king. - -He shaped him a steed, so black and bold; -He rode like a knight in a saddle of gold. - -He tied his steed where the shade was mirk; -Withershins went he round the kirk. - -Into the kirk he went, so gay, -And all the holy images they turned their heads away. - -Up spake the priest by the altar that stood-- -“Who may he be, this knight so good?” - -The Princess smiled ’neath her veil so fine-- -“Would to God that the knight were mine!” - -“Listen, proud Princess, and love thou me-- -A crown of gold I’ll give to thee.” - -“Over three kingdoms my father was king, -But he never gave me so fair a thing.” - -He wrapped her in his cloak of blue-- -Out of the kirk they went, they two. - -They met upon the wold -The steed with saddle of gold. - -When they rode o’er the lea, -He became a troll, so foul to see. - -When they rode down to the water’s brim, -He became a troll, so fierce and grim. - -“Sir Alfast, thou art christened man-- -What wilt thou with this water wan?” - -“No knight am I, nor christened man-- -My home is in this water wan.” - -When they reached the midmost Sound, -Fifty fathom they sank to ground. - -Long heard the fishers with dread and dree -How the king’s daughter sobbed under the sea! - -Well aday! -Methinks ’tis hard to ride away. - - - - -THE WOOD-RAVEN - - -The raven flies at even - That flies not in the light, -And he must take the black fortune - That may not take the white. -(At even flies the raven.) - -It was little Elva - Fared forth from the castle high; -She saw the wild wood-raven - That flew across the sky. - -“Fly down, thou wild wood-raven, - And speak a word with me; -All my secret sorrow - That I will tell to thee. - -“My father gave me the son of a king - To plight me heart and hand-- -She sent him, my cruel step-mother, - Afar to a foreign land. - -“She sent him, my cruel step-mother, - Forth under spell and ban; -She bade me love her brother foul, - Was liker a troll than a man.” - -“Say now, little Elva, - What wilt thou give to me -All to the land of thy lover - If I shall carry thee?” - -“I’ll give to thee the silver white, - But and the ruddy gold-- -Be kind, thou wild wood-raven! - Thy spells are manifold.” - -“A fairer gift than silver! - A goodlier gift than gold! -The first-born son that thou shalt bear - Him will I have and hold.” - -All in the swarthy raven’s claw - Her snow-white hand she laid; -She promised him her first-born son - By the faith of a Christian maid. - -He took her, little Elva, - Set her his wings between-- -With mickle toil and pain he flew - Across the sea so green. - -It was the wild wood-raven - Upon the tower stood still; -“Be glad now, little Elva! - Thou shalt have all thy will!” - -Forth came bold Sir Nilus - With gold rings on his hand; -“Welcome now, little Elva, - All to this foreign land! - -“Thanks to thee, wild wood-raven! - Fly o’er the land amain, -And when a year is past and gone - Then come thou here again.” - -He went, the wild wood-raven, - Flew o’er the land amain, -And when a year was past and gone - He came to them again. - -It was the wild wood-raven, - Upon the tower perched he-- -“Hast thou forgotten, Elva, - The gift thou shalt give to me?” - -“Now wrap him in the linen white, - The little babe I bore! -Take him, thou wild wood-raven-- - His mother he’ll see no more.” - -He’s pierced him in the lily breast, - And drunk the hot heart’s blood-- -Then rose the raven as fair a knight - As e’er in the country stood. - -At even flies the raven. - - - - -AN OWER-TRUE TALE - - -So merry the knights were sitting - Around the queen’s own board-- -Many a laugh was among them, - And many a waggish word. -(Under the lindens, there will I bide.) - -No word of the kirk was spoken, - And never a word of the cloister, -But many a word of the ladies - Who had fair maids to foster. - -“I will have a maiden - Who can both broider and sew; -I will not have a maiden - Goes gadding to and fro. - -“I will have a maiden - Who well can spread the board; -I will not have a maiden - Too ready with her word.” - -Silent sat all the maidens, - And never spoke a word; -All save the youngest maiden, - Stood at the queen’s own board. - -“If I so old were waxen - That my maiden days were over, -So help me God in Heaven! - Thou shouldst not be my lover. - -“I must bide in my bower ... - I can both broider and sew-- -Thou wouldst mount thy gallant steed, - Go gadding to and fro. - -“I must bide in my bower ... - Right well can I spread my board-- -Thou in the Thing wouldst be standing, - And wasting full many a word. - -“I must bide in my bower, - A-guiding my household gear-- -Thou wouldst be sitting ’mid lords and knights, - Nor holding thy tongue for fear.” - -Up he stood, Sir Peter, - So ready with his tongue-- -“Lo! I have found the self-same maid - That I had sought so long!” - -Merry were all the maidens - That goodly game to see; -The queen she gave the maid away, - Sir Peter’s bride to be! - -Under the lindens, there will I bide. - - - - -THE WOOING OF RANIL JONSON - - -Ranil bade saddle his steed so free-- -“The wealthy Margrave I’ll go see, -Tho’ I am severed both from friends and kinsmen.” - -Sir Ranil rode into the courtyard fair, -There stood the Margrave, wrapped all in vair. -(Lo! I am severed both from friends and kinsmen.) - -“There standest thou, Margrave, in furs so fine! -Give me now Kirsten, true love o’ mine, -For sorely am I severed from friends and kinsmen.” - -Up spake her mother, who loved her so dear-- -“Never a sweetheart shalt thou have here, -Since thou art severed both from friends and kinsmen.” - -“If ye refuse me my heart’s desire -All that ye have I will burn with fire, -Since I am severed both from friends and kinsmen.” - -“All that I have wilt thou burn with fire? -Then ride thou away with thy heart’s desire, -Tho’ thou art severed both from friends and kinsmen.” - -They wrapped her in a cloak of red, -And lifted her on to Ranil’s steed, -Tho’ he was severed both from friends and kinsmen. - -Nought for their bridal bower they found -But the wood and the wild and the low green ground-- -So sorely was he severed from friends and kinsmen. - -“If King Eric thou hadst not slain, -In the fair castles we might have lain-- -Now we are severed both from friends and kinsmen.” - -He struck her on the brow so fair-- -“One should order one’s words when guests are there, -Now we are severed both from friends and kinsmen.” - -He struck her on the cheek so red-- -“I never wished King Eric dead, -Altho’ I am severed both from friends and kinsmen. - -“Forests have ears, and fields have eyes-- -We must wander, my maid, as the wild swan flies, -Now we are severed both from friends and kinsmen.” - - - - -LOVEL AND JOHN - - -Lo now, I bid you, my merry men all, - Put your armour on,[A] -Bind on your helms of the burning gold, - And follow Sir John! - -Sir Peter rides home from the Thing so fleet, - (Put your armour on), -Little Kirstin comes forth her father to greet-- - And ask after John. - -“Welcome, dear father, home from the Thing! - (Put your armour on) -Say now, what tidings hast thou to bring?” - What news of Sir John? - -“This is the news that I bring to thee-- - (Put your armour on), -That young Sir Lovel thy bridegroom shall be, - And not Sir John.” - -“If young Sir Lovel my bridegroom shall be - (Put your armour on), -Sorrow and care he shall have with me.” - Oh fickle Sir John! - -Sir Lovel he rides to his bridal bright; - (Put your armour on)-- -Sir John has saddled his war-horse white-- - “I go too,” says John. - -Sir John he rode to the blithe bridàle - (Put your armour on) -High on his horse, in his coat of mail. - “I’m coming,” said John. - -The bride she busked her, so runs the rime - (Put your armour on), -As the bells were ringing a merry chime-- - “I’m ready,” said John. - -Down to the kirk-door came the bride, - (Put your armour on)-- -And bold Sir John was close at her side-- - “I’m first,” said John. - -He lifted her up on his war-horse white - (Put your armour on)-- -“I wish Sir Lovel a gay good-night!” - All from Sir John. - -When dawn is red, and the small birds sing - (Put your armour on), -Sir Lovel has ridden to seek the king. - “I go too,” says John. - -“My liege, my liege, an thou wilt hear - (Put your armour on), -I’ve a tale of wrong for thy gracious ear!” - “’Tis of me,” said John. - -“Yest’re’en it was my bridal gay - (Put your armour on), -But another knight bore the bride away.” - “’Twas I,” said John. - -“Since to ye both the maid is so dear - (Put your armour on), -Lo! for her love ye shall break a spear.” - “I shall win,” said John. - -The first course that they rode together - (Put your armour on), -Sir Lovel he broke his stirrup-leather. - “Hold up,” said John. - -But when they ran the second course - (Put your armour on), -Dead fell Sir Lovel, hurled from his horse-- - “Lie there!” said John. - -The bride clapped her hands to see the show - (Put your armour on)-- -“Ha! ha! for the wolf and the carrion-crow!” - So he won, Sir John. - -Bind on your helms of the burning gold, - And follow Sir John! - -[A] _Lit._ Be ye well boun - - - - -RIME OF THE DEAD LOVER - - -Three maidens sat in a bower, - Two broidered with gold-- -The third she wept her lover - Under darksome mould. -(For she loved the knight so truly.) - -It was the knight Sir Aager - Rode in his own countrie; -He loved the lady Elsa, - So fair was she. - -He wooed the lady Elsa - With gifts and gold-- -On Monday thereafter - Lay he i’ the mould. - -She wrung her hands, fair Elsa, - With wellaway-- -That heard the knight Sir Aager - Low where he lay. - -Up stood the knight Sir Aager, - His coffin took amain, -And forth he fared to his true-love’s bower - With mickle pain. - -There knocked he with his coffin-- - No sword had he-- -“Stand up, thou Lady Elsa! - Open to me!” - -Then spake the lady Elsa, - With tears spake she: -“Canst thou name our Saviour - I’ll open to thee.” - -“Stand up, thou lady Elsa! - Open thy door! -For I can name our Saviour - As I could before.” - -Up stood she, lady Elsa, - With drearihead-- -Straight opened she her bower door, - Let in the dead. - -She took her golden comb - To comb his hair-- -For every lock she ordered - Down fell a tear. - -“Hear, thou knight Sir Aager, - Liefest love o’ mine! -How is it under darksome earth - In grave of thine?” - -“So is it in the darksome earth - In my low bed, -As up in holy heaven, - Where all are glad.” - -“Hear, thou knight Sir Aager, - Liefest love and dear! -Down with thee in darksome earth - Fain would I fare.” - -“So is it in the darksome earth - Down where I dwell, -As it is grim and ghastly - In blackest hell. - -“For every tear thou weepest - In woeful mood, -Into my coffin falls a drop - Of thy heart’s blood. - -“Up above mine head - The green grass grows; -Down beside my feet - The wild worm goes. - -“When thy mood is merry, - For each word said, -Out of my grave there springeth up - Roses red. - -“I hear the red cock crowing - I’ the mirk so grey, -And all the doors are opening-- - I must away. - -“I hear the black cock crowing - In the farm-stead-- -And I must to the kirkyard - With all the dead.” - -Up stood the knight Sir Aager, - His coffin took again: -He went his way to the kirkyard - With mickle pain. - -Up she rose, proud Elsa, - Sad was her mood-- -She followed him, her own true love, - To the dark wood. - -When through the wood they wended - To kirkyard fair, -Wan it grew and faded, - His goodly golden hair. - -“Behold thou up in heaven - The stars so bright! -There mayst thou see so soothly - How goes the night.” - -She saw them up in heaven, - The stars so fair; -Down in the earth the dead man sank - Ere she was ’ware. - -Home went the lady Elsa, - With care so cold-- -On Monday thereafter - Lay she i’ the mould. - -For she loved the knight so truly. - - - - -ORIGINAL VERSES - - - - -THE KING’S HUNTING - - -The king has busked him forth to ride - All on his steed so brown-- -He’s halted him by the standing stone - To see the sun sink down. - -And is it the moan of the mourning pine - Doth in his ear complain? -The wizened bough of the lean thorn-tree - That clutches his bridle-rein? - -He looks, and knows the grisly witch - That wears the grey wolf-skin-- -“Ruth, ruth, oh king, on the deadly wrong - That’s wrought thy realm within! - -“Thou hast taken a wife of alien life - From far beyond the sea; -And she’s brought in a foreign faith - To flout thy gods and thee. - -“The kirk-bell rings, the pale priest sings, - By thorpe and tower and town-- -The black rood stands with arms spread wide - Where of old the blood ran down. - -“The carven stone stands drear and lone-- - And the old gods in their pain -Rave high and wail in the winter gale - And sob in the running rain. - -“Harken and hear--for I crouched this eve - Where thistle and dock grow tall, -And I saw her steal from the postern-gate - And creep by the palace-wall. - -“She’s off and away to the lonely kirk - To keep a cursèd tryst; -She’s taken thy son, to be bound for aye - A slave to the wan White Christ.” - -The king he rides by holt and heath, - The witch goes on before, -By the carven stone on the moorland lone - Where the blood ran down of yore. - -Oh, wan was the glint of the misty moon - In the brimming burn, and shrill -The wind it wailed in the lean thorn-trees - That crouch upon the hill. - -“The font is dight, the taper bright, - I hear the sound of prayer-- -Lest I be banned with bell and book - I dare not enter there.” - -All lily-white the fair queen stood-- - In strode the angry king-- -“Thy God is thine, but my son is mine, - And I will not have this thing!” - -White as a lily-flower, the queen - Fell down upon her knee-- -“Have pity, have pity, thou cruel king, - On the souls of mine and me!” - -The pale priest stood before the rood, - His look was proud and grim-- -“Stand back, unshriven! the King of Heaven - Doth claim the babe for Him!” - -Most like the wail of a winter gale - The grisly witch laughed loud-- -“The christening-robes are white enow - To serve as a goodly shroud!” - -She’s witched his arm, she’s witched his heart, - She’s witched his blade so true, -She’s cast the glamour o’er his eyes, - The deadly deed to do. - -The king, he drew his trusty brand, - And clove him to the chin-- -“Short shrift at least is thine, proud priest, - Thy God His grace to win!” - -Alas! alas! for the bloody chrism - The king’s son got that day! -For the queen fell down at the self-same stroke - Nor turned not where she lay. - -He’s seized his young son in his arms, - And busked his steed to flee; -Like a crooked shadow the grisly witch - Runs ever beside his knee. - -With laughter shrill she’s by him still - While the misty moon grows dim-- -Ere he can cross the running burn - She’s reft the babe from him. - -Where the priests of eld high worship held - The witch-wife laughs alone; -“The babe she bore shall learn my lore, - And dance by the carven stone!” - -The tapers’ light is quenched in night-- - Hushed is the holy bell-- -The pale priest’s blood is on the rood-- - The old gods have their will. - - * * * * * - -Now on a day when years are gone - The knights they rise apace-- -For the sound of the horn in the dim red morn - Has called them to the chase. - -The gaunt grey wolf-hounds growl and grin, - And the king is at their head-- -His face is white in the breaking light - As the face of one new-dead; - -His voice is hollow as one that cries - In a dreary vault of stone; -And, on thin lips, his smile is grim, -For the trampled branches sound to him - Like the cracking of bare-bleached bone. - -Ho, holla-ho! the game’s afoot! - He breaks for the open moor! -But hearts grow chill, as the pack cries shrill, - That ne’er felt fear before. - -The horses sweat, they plunge and fret, - Tho’ the spur with blood drop fast-- -Each man looks on his fellow’s face, - And sees it all aghast-- - -Aghast and pale, he knows not why-- - But the king’s is red with wrath-- -“How now, my masters! Shake like babes - To follow the grey wolfs path?” - -And none spake word but the eldest lord: - “God shield us from the chase! -For the quarry crossed me as he ran, -And the eyes I saw were the eyes of a man, - Tho’ they looked from a grey wolfs face.” - -Loud laughed the king; “A fitting tale - For doting age to tell! -Who lists turn back, but I follow the track - Tho’ it lead to the fires of hell.” - -The king doth force his restless horse - Till like the deer he bounds, -Like a flying breath, o’er the windy heath - Behind the calling hounds. - -The knightly train spur on amain - As fast as they may flee-- -And two are down by the broken bank, - And one by the fallen tree. - -Their shadows run in the wan low sun, - Like ghosts they flit beside-- -And one is down where the snow lies late, - And two where the marsh is wide. - -“Stay, stay, oh king! of all thy train - Alone I am left to follow!” -But the wind beat back the labouring breath - That rattled hoarse and hollow. - -In the fearful flight each gallant knight - Lies cold, a broken corse; -By two, by one, the hounds drop dead; -But the king checks not, nor turns his head, - Nor curbs his foaming horse. - -Among the lines of the sombre pines - He rides o’er moss and mire; -And lo! their boughs as a brooding smoke, - Their stems as a burning fire! - -And had the red sun scorched his sight - Ere he entered the lonely wood? -For he saw in the air but a shifting glare - Like a floating pool of blood. - -And was it but the sighing bough - That whispered in his ear -A boding thought, an evil breath?-- - Till he could not tell for fear -Whether a fiend spake in his soul, - Or a voice spake in his ear. - -In the heart of the wood, a darksome den - Where the lightning-blasted tree -Gleamed in the gloom like whitened bones, - He saw the quarry flee, - -With lolling tongue and foaming jaws, - With faint and faltering pace, -And eyes like the eyes of a soul in pain, - Tho’ they looked from a grey wolf’s face. - -Lo! with the crash of a falling tree, - The gallant steed drops dead! -But he loosed his foot from the stirrup-iron, - And fast and far he fled. - -Thro’ grey twilight, thro’ falling night - Rang the tireless steps and fleet, -And the throb of his heart kept feverish time - To the falling of his feet. - -Oh, thick and tall by the lone kirk-wall - Grew thistle and broom and bent; -The holy bell lay where it fell, - And the walls were riven and rent. - -Like a fair white shroud on the altar-stone - Lay the late-lingering snow, -And in the window towards the east - The waning moon hung low. - -Now, when the beast had reached the kirk, - It moaned like one in pain, -And swerved, but the hunter cried behind, - And drove it on again. - -But when it came to the altar-stone, - It started, and leapt, and fell-- -And the shout of the king as he gripped its throat - Mixed with its dying yell. - -And lo! some evil ban was loosed - By the power of the holy place-- -And the glazing eyes with ghastly gleam - Glared from a dead man’s face! - -Black as a pall did darkness fall - As the moon hid in a cloud-- -And still lay the king by that nameless thing, - Nor knew that he cried aloud, - -Till the white face glimmered thro’ the gloom - As the moon stole out again; -When he dashed from his eyes the reeking blood - And stared upon the slain. - -And who may tell, save those of hell, - Of the horror cold and grim -That he felt, who saw in that mirk midnight - His own face look at him? - -His own dead face, with the haunting eyes - Of the wife his youth had won? -Woe, woe! in the were-wolf’s grisly guise, - Oh king, thou hast slain thy son! - - - - -BALLAD OF SIR HERLUIN - - -This is the rime of Sir Herluin, - A knight both true and tried, -Who rode from the fray at close of day - With a spear-thrust in his side. - -“The Bread and Wine of the Feast Divine - Are all the food I crave: -And in all the land, six feet of sand, - To serve me for a grave. - -“How oft, how blithe along the moor, - I’ve rid to the bugle’s sound! -But to-night ’tis I am the hunted deer - And Death the hateful hound, - -“That followeth ever, pace by pace-- - And Satan the hunter fell -That drives me down to the yawning grave, - And the burning flames of hell.” - -Oh, he rode on, and on he rode - By heather and pine and birk, -By moss and moor, till he lighted down - All at the lonely kirk. - -He stopped nor stayed where the dead were laid - In purple and in pall, -But he sought a mound at the wall’s far bound, - Where thistle and dock grew tall. - -He hid his brow amid the grass, - And the words he spake were three: -“Oh, sweet Marg’ret, oh, dear Marg’ret, - Wake, wake, and speak to me!” - -’Twas when the waning moon rose up, - And night waxed chill and cold, -That he heard a murmur from the grave - And a low voice from the mould. - -Most like the moan of a mourning wind - That voice did speak and say: -“I had thought to lie in the kindly earth - Asleep till Judgment Day, - -“With heart so still, and closèd eyne, - And hands across my breast-- -There’s never a voice in the world but thine - Could call me from my rest.” - -’Twas at the hour before the dawn, - When hushed was every sound, -That the dead corpse stirred within the grave, - And rose up out o’ the ground-- - -Rose up, and stood in the wan moonlight - All in her winding-sheet-- -Sir Herluin, he hid his face, - And lay still at her feet. - -“Oh Herluin! oh Herluin! - Didst hold my heart in fee-- -And the grave’s not deep nor wide enough - To sunder me and thee.” - -“Margaret, oh Margaret! - Can love be strong as death?” -“Love breaks not with the broken heart, - Nor flies with the fleeting breath.” - -“Ah, love! The pain I cost thee - Was a bitter pain and fell; -And, but thou canst forgive it me, - ’Twill hale my soul to hell.” - -She kissed him where his brow was marked - With the bitter brand of dole-- -“Herluin, oh Herluin! - God’s peace upon thy soul! - -“Now lay thee down, oh Herluin, - And sleep i’ the kindly mould-- -He rests full well whose heart is still, - Whose burning brow is cold. - -“And sleep thou sound, oh Herluin, - Amid the song o’ the stream! -For I have heard a secret word - From an angel, in a dream. - -“And I swear to thee by the ring of gold, - And I swear by cross and pall, -And I swear to thee by my broken heart, - That love is lord of all.” - -This is the rime of Sir Herluin, - Who sleeps where he lay and died-- -With a whin at his head, and a whin at his feet, -And the lean sand for a winding-sheet, - And a mourning pine beside. - - - - -BOTHWELL’S SOOTHSAYING - - -Oh, the goodwives they go out and in, - And gossip beside the well; -But the witless wife, she fares alone, - With never a tale to tell. - -Oh, the goodwives go to the holy kirk, - And bow their knees to pray; -But the witless wife, she steeks her door, - And keeps no holy-day. - -Oh, the lasses and lads run up and down, - Their gleeful games to tread, -And they fleer and flout at the witless wife - That goes with a shaking head. - -But when she turns on them, lasses and lads, - They take to their heels and flee, -For they fear the curse of the witless wife - And the look of her blinking e’e. - -When the owlet shrill called from the hill, - And night was dark and deep, -One came and knocked at her cottage door - And roused her from her sleep. - -“Oh, the clink I hear of a gallant’s gear, - And the tread of steelèd shoon! -And he that knocks at my door so late - Is neither knave nor loon!” - -“Come forth, come forth, thou witless wife, - And earn a goodly wage! -There’s a rune to read, and a spell to speed, - In the hold of Hermitage!” - -“Now nay, now nay, thou black Bothwèll! - I dare not for deadly sin! -There’s a heavy spell on that cursed cell - That none may enter in.” - -“Oh, the walls are rent, and the roof is riven, - And gone is the sealing stone; -And the night is deep, and all men sleep, - Save thou and I alone.” - -“There’s an echo aloof in the riven roof - Of grisly grammarye! -And one that doth sleep where the dust lies deep - That brooks not a mortal’s eye!” - -Black, black, I ween, grew Bothwell’s mien; - “If thou dost not my will -Thine ending shall be a nine-days’ tale - To the crowd on the Castle Hill! - -“Faggot and fire, a goodly pyre, - Shall pay the witch her fee! -The leaping lowe shall send a glow - To the ships far out at sea!” - -The witch-wife goes with shaking head-- - Black Bothwell goes before-- -To the secret cell where a heavy spell - Was laid by a lord of yore. - -No light was there in earth or air, - No light in all the land, -Save the red torch, like an evil eye, - That glimmered in his hand. - -When the owlet shrill called from the hill, - And all men were asleep, -Slow did they fare by the broken stair, - And down to the dungeon deep. - -There was nought to see in the doleful vault - Save the mould and the mildew green-- -But the hair stood up on Bothwell’s head - As he and the witch went in. - -Oh, deep and still was the secret cell-- - There was never a sound to hear -Save the echo aloof in the riven roof-- - But his knees were loosed for fear. - -Oh, thrice she bent, and thrice she bowed, - As she muttered the secret spell-- -The grisly lore they learned of yore - That loosens the fiends of hell. - -She rose on her feet, and she stood upright, - And high she reared her head; -Oh, her face was wan to look upon - As the face of one that’s dead. - -And like the dead, in the torchlight red, - Her eyes were bleared and dim, -And her lips were still, yet ghostly shrill - The voice came forth from them. - -Like an echo aloof in the riven roof - The eldritch voice made moan-- -“Alas for my sleep in the dust so deep! - Alas for the sealing stone!” - -“Now heed, now hark, thou spirit dark, - And look thou tell me true. -Say, is it meet, for a lady sweet, - A philtre fine to brew?” - -“No philtre fine she needs o’ mine - To turn her heart to thee-- -Thou hast set the spell on her thysel - With the glint o’ thy bold black e’e!” - -“Dost see her dight in bridal white, - In satin of shimmering fold? -Does she go like a queen, amid the sheen - Of gems, and the red, red gold?” - -“I see her dight in lily-white, - But not for the bridal-day-- -And the red round the neck of that shimmer sark - Is not of the gold so gay! - -“Oh, pay the fee that’s due to me, - The precious price of sin, -That I may dig a grave, a grave, - And lay me down therein!” - -“Now hark, now heed! if thou indeed - Dost bend her to my will, -Thou shalt ask what fee thou wilt of me - And take it to thy fill.” - -“Oh, a fearful fee I ask of thee, - And a bitter from thy bride-- -For pay she must in her people’s trust - In pomp and place and pride. - -“The hue so fair of bonnie brown hair-- - The glint of gladsome e’e-- -And lightsome step, and pride of youth, - She must pay for the love of thee! - -“And as for thee, thou shalt know my fee - And curse me, in that day -When thou stretchest thine arms o’er the wan water - To the land that’s far away.” - -His laughter rang in the riven roof-- - “I shall not pale nor pine! -Each dog, they say, must have its day, - And shall I not have mine?” - -He’s up and out of the doleful vault, - In the misty dawn so dim -That glimmers pale on his coat of mail-- - And the witch steals after him. - -Oh, her look is cowed, and her back is bowed, - And tottering is her tread-- -And she’s but a witless wife again - That goes with a shaking head. - -The queen sits wan in Jethart town - Beside her Maries three-- -“Alas! for the wish I dare not name - Betwixt my heart and me! - -“There’s a merry bird in the garden green - That lilts the livelong day; -And aye the ower-word of his song - Is the name I must not say! - -“Oh, pride of youth, and high heart’s truth, - Were all too light a fee, -And the bitter tears of years on years, - To win his heart to me!” - -The queen has mounted her palfry white, - And called her trusty page-- -And she’s away o’er moss and moor - To the hold of Hermitage! - -NOTE.--The vault referred to in this ballad is that beneath -the castle of Hermitage in which the “Wicked Lord Soulis” -practised his sorceries--the custody of which, at his execution, -he committed to Redcap, his familiar demon. By the time (some -three centuries later) that Bothwell, as Warden of the Marches, -took up residence at Hermitage, I have ventured to suppose -that the vault (always looked on with horror) might have -become ruinous. - - - - -THE RIDING OF THE SHEE[B] - -A BALLAD OF PRINCE CHARLIE - -_September 1745_ - - -They’ve stabled their steeds where the heather grows high - And the deer has ranging-room; -The prince has laid him down to rest - All under a bush of broom. - -There was a breeze in the whispering fern, - And a star that danced in the stream, -When the Men of Peace came riding by - Betwixt a dream and a dream. - -In mantle of green, on coal-black steed, - They passed, and he saw them plain; -Out of the mist or ever he wist, - And into the mist again. - -(’Twixt Beltane fire and Hallow-e’en - Men that have sight may -The hosts who pass, nor stir the grass-- - The riding of the Shee.) - -“In the fields where never the dawn grows old - There’s a place of refuge still -From the weary strife of death and life, - The strife of good and ill. - -“And this you shall have for a golden crown, - And this for a place of pride-- -The star that shines where the sun goes down, - The peace where the hills spread wide. - -“You shall have, for the clamour of men, the call - Of the free wind in your ears; -You shall have the stainless well-water - For the burning of salt, salt tears. - -“Our saying for you is sooth and sad-- - For the troth wherein you trust, -Yea, the shining sword, and the plighted word, - Are ashes, and dross, and dust. - -“And this you shall have if you will not heed-- - A road with never an end, -A bitter smart, and a broken heart, - And Death for your kindest friend. - -“This you shall have as a sorrow in sleep-- - A sigh that shall never be still-- -The song of the burn in Scotland’s fern, - The cry of the horn on the hill. - -“This shall be yours as a waking woe - That shall tear your heart in twain-- -The faith forlorn, and the losing love - Of those that have hoped in vain.” - -The prince he started in his sleep, - And spoke like one in mirth: -“Oh, dearer to me than fairy dreams - The chances and cheer of earth! - -“This I will have--the fate of a man, - With my sword to be my friend, -And burning life, and love, and strife, - And Death to make an end.” - -There was a cloud o’er the waning moon, - And never a stir in the grass, -When the Men of Peace rode over the hill, - And passed as the shadows pass. - -“Out of the mist whenever we list, - And into the mist once more! -Oh, it’s hand to hilt, and the doomed to die, - As ever it was of yore! - -“Oh, the Rose will soon be sere and sad - Beneath the winter rain! -Not all the blood in broad Scotlànd - Can make it bloom again.” - -[B] Gaelic DUIONE SIDHE (shee) = fairy-folk. - - - - -BALLAD OF LONDON TOWN - -A SONG OF THE FORTY-FIVE - - -Oh, London is a bonnie town - Whose streets are paved with gold; -And out o’ the North my friends came forth - That gift to have and hold. - -There was one who rode before us a’ - From Perth to Preston town, -Wi’ winsome word and shining sword, - To gain a golden crown. - -Oh, his head was high, and his gallant brow - Was blithe as a merry morn-- -But a’ we won for his father’s son - Was a crown o’ piercing thorn. - -The Chief led forth his Hielandmen - Wi’ pipes a’ sounding shrill-- -And the gift he got was the grisly axe, - Red-wet on Tower Hill. - -Oh, I came forth fra’ the naked North - Wi’ lord and loon and laird-- -And a’ the gold they gave to me - Was the straw in Newgate yard. - -The sun comes glinting thro’ the reek - And gilds my galling chain; -Oh, our lives are sold for fairy-gold, - And glamour is a’ our gain! - -Oh, I’d give my heart fra’ out of my breast, - Or the fell fra’ my flesh, to see -One little star of a’ the stars - That shine on mine own countrie! - -The wheels they groan on the paving stone-- - And I dream that their dreary din -Is the song o’ the burn afar in the fern, - Or the wind that wails in the whin. - -Oh, the rat to his hole, and the bird to his nest, - And the deer to the hills so free!-- -But I that drew sword at my king’s own word - Must hang on a gallows-tree! - - - - -BALLAD OF THE TRAITOR’S HEAD - -(1746) - - -Wasted and wan, under sun and star, -Stares the head of the traitor on Temple Bar. - -Sere are his sunken cheeks, and grim -Is the leering laugh on the lips of him. - -The lights are out; the silent street -Echoes to the watchman’s feet. - -Ho, cold comrade! sure the time -Passes slow till morning-chime. - -There are none but we that watch so late, -I in my garret, thou on thy gate. - -Hast forgot the trick of speech? -Let’s hold converse, each with each-- - -For I see you, methinks, awake and aware, -Now the wind from the north blows thro’ your hair. - -_Oh, he fares so far ere he blows on me, -He can bring no word from mine own countrie._ - -Lithe now and listen, and tell me true, -What are the world and its ways to you? - -Do you not grudge when the men pass by? -_I shudder to think that such was I!_ - -_They fleer and they flout as they gaze on me--_ -_The traitor that died on the gallows-tree!_ - -What is it to you when the ladies pass? -You’d an eye, methinks, for a pretty lass. - -_What are they now to me, handsome and kind?_ -_Red rose-leaves blowing down the wind._ - -_They shudder and shrink when they gaze on me--_ -_The traitor that died on the gallows-tree!_ - -What do you hear in the running rain? -_Ten thousand tears all shed in vain._ - -What do you read in the misty moon? -_Loss of love, and sorrows’ swoon._ - -What is your dream in the driving dust? -_Of bodies that bleach and swords that rust._ - -What do you feel when the hailstones rattle? -_Spent shot, and the brunt of battle._ - -Oh, what do you say when the sun sinks down -Behind the spires of London town? - -_The last red gleam, as he fails forlorn,_ -_Is the drooping fag of a cause outworn._ - -What do you see when the stars shine bright, -Serried and still, in the vast o’ the night, - -Above the wind as he wandereth? -_The souls of the brave that have done with death!_ - -_Lords and ladies, fair and fine,_ -_None of you see with these eyes of mine!_ - -_Prince and peer and potentate,_ -_Never a man of you keeps my state!_ - -_Mockers that mock and cowards that crawl,_ -_I have the laugh of you, one and all!_ - -_For fear and fraud, and lies and lust,_ -_I doffed them all with the doleful dust,_ - -_And Death must bonnet his head to me--_ -_The traitor that died on the gallows-tree!_ - - -_Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury._ - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BALLADS FROM THE DANISH AND -ORIGINAL VERSES *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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