The Tale of Brynild, and King Valdemar and His Sister: Two Ballads. Borrow George. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

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      The Tale of Brynild, and King Valdemar and His Sister: Two Ballads

      THE TALE OF BRYNILD

      Sivard he a colt has got,

      The swiftest ’neath the sun;

      Proud Brynild from the Hill of Glass

      In open day he won.

      Unto her did of knights and swains

      The very flower ride;

      Not one of them the maid to win

      Could climb the mountain’s side.

      The hill it was both steep and smooth;

      Upon its lofty head

      Her sire had set her, knight nor swain

      He swore with her should wed.

      Soon to the Danish monarch’s court

      A messenger repaired,

      To know if there was any one

      To try the adventure dared.

      ’Twas talked about, and Sivard then

      His purpose soon made known;

      Said he: “I’ll try upon my colt

      To bring Brynilda down.”

      He rode away, the way was far,

      The path was of the worst;

      He saw the shining Glass Hill, where

      The maid her durance curs’d.

      And he away proud Brynild bore,

      Nor deemed the adventure hard;

      To bold Sir Nielus her he gave

      To show him his regard.

      Proud Brynild and proud Signelil

      Those maids of beauteous mien,

      Down to the river’s side they went

      Their silken robes to clean.

      “Now do thou hear, thou proud Brynild,

      What now I say to thee,

      Where didst thou get the bright gold ring

      I on thy finger see?”

      “How did I get the bright gold ring

      Which on my hand you see?

      That gave me Sivard Snareswayne,

      When he betrothed me.”

      “And though young Sivard gave thee that

      When he his love declar’d,

      He gives thee to Sir Nielus now

      In proof of his regard.”

      No sooner than did Brynild hear,

      The haughty hearted may,

      Than to the chamber high she went,

      Where sick of rage she lay.

      It was the proud Brynild there

      Fell sick, and moaning lay;

      And her the proud Sir Nielus then

      Attended every day.

      “Now hark to me, thou Brynild fair,

      My mind is ill at ease;

      Know’st thou of any medicine

      Can cure thy sad disease?

      “If there be aught this world within

      Can make thee cease to moan,

      That thou shalt have, e’en if it cost

      All, all the gold I own.”

      “I know of nought within this world

      Can do my sickness good,

      Except of Sivard Snareswayne

      It be the hated blood.

      “And there is nothing in this world

      Which can assuage my pain,

      Except of Sivard Snareswayne

      The head I do obtain.”

      “To draw of Sivard Snareswayne

      The blood I have no might;

      His neck is hard as burnished steel,

      No sword thereon will bite.”

      “O hark, Sir Nielus, hark to me,

      My well beloved lord,

      Borrow of him his Adelring,

      His famous trusty sword.

      “Tell him thou needest it so oft

      When thou dost wage a fight,

      But soon as ’tis within thy hand

      Hew off his head outright.”

      It was the bold Sir Nielus then

      His mantle puts he on;

      To Sivard, his companion true,

      To the high hall he’s gone.

      “Now hear, O Sivard Snareswayne,

      Thy sword unto me lend,

      For I unto the field of fight

      Full soon my course must bend.”

      “My trusty faulchion Adelring

      I’ll freely lend to thee;

      No man be sure shall thee o’ercome,

      However strong he be.

      “My trusty faulchion Adelring

      To thee I’ll freely yield,

      But, oh! beware thee of the tears

      Beneath the hilt conceal’d.

      “Beware thee of those frightful tears,

      They all are bloody red;

      If down thy fingers they should run

      Thou wert that moment dead.”

      Upstood the bold Sir Nielus then,

      Drew out the sword amain;

      One blow and off the head is hewn

      Of Sivard Snareswayne.

      Beneath his mantle then he takes

      The head, distilling blood,

      And hurrying to the chamber high

      Before Brynilda stood.

      “Behold the head, the bloody head,

      Thou didst so crave to gain;

      For thee I’ve done a felon deed

      Which gives my heart such pain.”

      “O lay aside the bloody head,

      It fills my heart with fright;

      And come to me, my dearest lord,

      Beneath the linen white.”

      “I crave thee, woman, not to think

      I came for sport and play;

      Thou wast the wicked cause that I

      From honour went astray.”

      It was the bold Sir Nielus then

      His faulchion he drew out;

      It was the beauteous Brynild whom

      He all to pieces smote.

      “Now have I slain my comrade dear,

      And eke my lovely may,

      Yet still I am resolved in mind

      A