BALLADS OF MAGIC
XIV
YOUNG SVEJDAL
A certain number of Ballads borrowed their subjects from the Old Norse Lays, making of them, not translations, but fresh creations; for the Lays tower above the many-coloured ballad-world like ice-peaks that loom over flowery meads. The story of Young Svejdal is derived from two Lays dealing with the adventures of Svipdag, who wakes Menglad from her trance on the magic mountain; but
“there is a vast difference between the simplicity of the Ballad and the stately measure and rhetorical pomp of the original:—
‘Svipdag is my name; Sunbright was my father’s name;
The winds have driven me far, along cold ways;
No one can gainsay the word of Fate,
Though it be spoken to his own destruction.’
“The difference is as great as the difference between the ballad of the ‘Marriage of Gawayne’ and the same story as told in the Canterbury Tales; or the difference between Homer’s way of describing the recovery of lifted cattle and the ballad of ‘Jannie Telfer of the Fair Dodhead’” (W. P. Ker’s Epic and Romance, chap. ii., section 3).
This Ballad, indeed, brings down the story from the misty peaks of Valhalla into the garrulous region of fairy-tale. It is faithful to the primitive tradition which depicts the dead as waking unwillingly from their slumbers. Svejdal’s mother speaks as does the dead Vala in the nameless Lay called “Baldr’s Doom” by the editors of the Corpus Poeticum Boreale:
“Hvat es manna þat mer okunnra
es mer hefir aukit ervitt sinni?
Vas-ek snivin sniovi ok slegin regni,
ok drifin doeggo; dauð vas-ek lengi.”
(Who is the man unknown to me that has put me to this weary journey? I was snowed on with snow, and smitten with rain, and dripped on with dew; dead was I lang syne.)
The refrain is:
“Nauðig sagðak. Nú mun-ek þegja!”
(Loath have I spoken. Now must I be silent!) Gray, in his translation, “The Descent of Odin,” puts it with eighteenth-century elegance:
“Again my wearied eyes I close,
Leave me, leave me to repose!”
and readers of Mansfield Park will remember how fitly these words are applied to the languid speech of Lady Bertram. A “clever fancy” on the part of the Norns, to spin this slender thread connecting Jane Austen (of all people!) with the “Runick savages boozing ale!” Had she known more of them, she would doubtless have agreed with Frederick the Great, that all their works were not worth a charge of powder, and that she would have no such stuff in her library.
XIV
YOUNG SVEJDAL
1
It was he, young Svejdal,
Was playing at the ball;
The ball flew into the maiden’s breast,
And her cheeks grew white withal.
—Choose thy words well!
2
The ball flew into the maiden’s bower,
And after went the swain,
And or ever he left the bower behind
She dreed full bitter pain.
3
“Oh, never shouldst thou venture
To throw thy ball to me!
There sits a maid in a far-off land
A-longing after thee.
4
“Oh, ne’er shalt thou seek slumber,
And never rest shalt know,
Until thou hast loosed the lovely maid
That long hath lain in woe!”
5
It was he, young Svejdal,
Wrapped him in cloak of vair,
And to the hall betook him
To seek the captains there.
6
“Now sit in peace, my captains,
And pledge your healths in mead,
Whiles I fare forth to the grave-mound
To seek my mother’s rede!”
7
It was he, young Svejdal,
That loud did cry and call,
Till the marble-stone was rent and riven
And the mound was nigh to fall.
8
“Oh, who is it that wakes me?
Who calls with cry so bold?
May I not lie and sleep in peace
All under darksome mould?”
9
“It is I, young Svejdal,
Only son o’ thine!
And all I ask is counsel good
From thee, dear mother mine.
10
“My sister and my stepmother
Have made me pale and pine,
All for a lovely lady
That ne’er I saw with eyne.”
11
“I will give thee a palfrey
Shall serve thy need, I ween!
He can go as well o’er the salt sea-swell
As over the land so green.
12
“A sword I will give thee also,
Is tempered in dragon’s blood,
And it will shine like a burning brand
When thou ridest the darksome wood.”
13
It was he, young Svejdal,
That spurred his steed so free;
Forth he rode thro’ darksome wood
And over the wide sea.
14
It was he, young Svejdal,
That rode ’twixt sea and land;
And he was ’ware of a herdsman there
That drove his flock to the strand.
15
“Lithe and list, good herdsman,
And speak thou sooth to me!
Who is it owns the flock so fair
Thou drivest down to the sea?”
16
“Oh, a maiden there is in this countrie
Lies spellbound in dule and pine,
All for a swain hight Svejdal
That never she saw with eyne.”
17
“And knowest thou where the maiden dwells,
Then hide it not from me!
Whenas I am king of all this land
A knight I’ll make of thee.”
18
“Oh, yonder under the linden green
There stands my lady’s hold;
The towers are all of the marble grey,
And the doors are decked with gold!
19
“The towers are all of the marble grey,
And the doors are decked with gold!
Full seven years are over and gone
Since she did sun behold.
20
“There stands a bear by my lady’s bower,
And a lion so fell to see,
But art thou Svejdal in very sooth
Thou shalt pass by them free.”
21
Forth he fared, young Svejdal,
And up to the hold he went;
All the locks that held it
Were riven asunder and rent.
22
The bear and the lordly lion
They followed him from the door;
The linden with all its silvery leaves
Bowed down to earth before.
23
The linden bowed adown to earth
With every silver leaf:
And up she stood, the maiden proud,
That long had lain in grief.
24
Up she waked, the maiden proud,
When she heard the spurs a-ringing:
“Now thanks be unto God in heaven
Who help to me is bringing!”
25
In he went, Sir Svejdal,
That was both young and fair;
It was the haughty maiden
That hailed his entrance there.
26
“Welcome to thee, young Svejdal,
Thou noble lord of mine!
Now praised be God in heaven
Hath loosed us from pain and pine!”
—Choose thy words well!
XV
THORD OF HAFSGAARD
Here we have the Old Norse Lay of Thrym (þrymskviða) recast and trolled forth by a mediæval minstrel. He has been faithful to the grim jollity of the original poem; but, as his lilting verse has lost the trenchant battle-axe swing of the old alliterative metre, so the tale he tells is shorn of the epic dignity surrounding Valhalla and the gods. On the restoration of the Thunderer’s hammer hangs the fate of the Æsir in their endless warfare with the Frost Giants; its loss is a calamity such as was never known in heaven nor earth. When Freyja is asked to play the Bride, her stamp shakes the celestial floor. When Thor drives to the wedding feast, earth burns under his chariot wheels. Whereas the Thord of the Ballad might, for aught we are told, be a mere bonnet-laird; and it is only by implication that we gather any idea of his hammer’s importance.
The erudite M. Pineau (Étude sur les Chants Populaires Scandinaves) is puzzled and pained by these variations and omissions—notably that of the Æsir’s council, and of Thor’s indignation at the idea of assuming bridal attire. “Don’t tell me,” he exclaims indignantly, “that this scene of all others could be forgotten by the popular imagination!” The Eddie Lays, according to him, jealously guarded by the priests, were never known to the people at large; and he goes so far as to declare that the source alike of Lay and Ballad must be sought in some older, and now non-existent, form of the story. M. Pineau, in short, is a Necessitarian, who will not allow free-will to poets. Why should not the minstrel pick and choose his incidents? Why, on M. Pineau’s own showing, should not the Lay have reached him in fragmentary form? The student must decide for himself; suffice it meanwhile to say that the Ballad is a capital one, and the “merry jest” at the end a racy substitute for the ferocious pun which concludes the original, at the expense of the Giant’s mother:
“For pence a pound was what she won.”
XV
THORD OF HAFSGAARD
1
It was Thord of Hafsgaard o’er the blowing meads did ride,
There he lost his hammer of gold, and sought for it far and wide.
2
It was Thord of Hafsgaard spake with his brother bold:
“Thou must fare to Norrefjeld, and seek my hammer of gold!”
3
It was little Loki that donned his feather-fell,
Forth he flew to Norrefjeld, all over the salt sea-swell.
4
All in the castle-garth his garment changèd he,
Then entered in the stone-built hall, the Giant-King to see.
5
“Now welcome, little Loki, be thou right welcome here!
How fares the country round Hafsgaard, and the land that lies anear?”
6
“Well fares the country round Hafsgaard, and the land that lies anear,
But Thord hath lost his hammer of gold, and therefore am I come here.”
7
“Never shall Thord have his hammer again, altho’ ye seek and strive!
Under the earth ’tis buried deep, full fifty fathom and five!
8
“Never shall Thord have his hammer again (for ye shall buy it dear),
Till ye bring me your sister Fredensborg, with all your goods and gear!”
9
It was little Loki that donned his feather-fell,
Forth he flew on the homeward way, all over the salt sea-swell.
10
All in the castle-garth his garment changèd he,
Then entered in the stone-built hall, his brother dear to see.
11
“Never shall Thord have his hammer again, altho’ we seek and strive,
Under the earth ’tis buried deep full fifty fathom and five!
12
“Never shall Thord have his hammer again (for we must buy it dear),
Till we take him our sister Fredensborg, with all our goods and gear!”
13
The maiden seated on the bench she up and spake to him:
“Oh, give me to a christened man, and not to a goblin grim!”
14
“Now we will take our father, and comb his locks with care,
And lead him up to Norrefjeld, all for a bride so fair!”
15
Now true is the tale I tell ye, they took that fair young bride,
They spared no costly plenishing to deck her out with pride.
16
They seated her, that beauteous bride, upon the bridal-seat;
Forth he came, the Giant-King, full fain the maid to greet.
17
An ox that lusty bride devoured, and thirty salted swine,
And drank, ere she could slake her thirst, twelve tuns of good red wine!
18
The Giant-King he paced the floor, and wrathful was his mood:
“Who e’er beheld a beauteous bride fall thus upon her food?”
19
Up spake little Loki, beneath his cloak smiled he:
“For seven days she ate no meat, so sore she longed for thee!”
20
Stayed upon a mighty tree by seven champions bold,
Up to the knees of the maiden they bore the hammer of gold.
21
Up she rose, the bride, and took the hammer in her hand;
Good sooth, I say, she swung it light as a willow wand!
22
She slew the King o’ the Giants, that Troll so fierce and grim,
And the lesser Trolls that sought the feast, she slew them after him.
23
It was little Loki that spake a merry jest:
“Our father he is a widow now, to lead him home were best!”
XVI
THE AVENGING SWORD
This fine Ballad (admired by Andrew Lang) is unique in its mingling of pagan and Christian sentiment. The hero, who in his Bersark blood-lust spares neither wife, maid, nor suckling—whose brother the sword is possessed by a demon—who has ranged the world in pursuit of revenge—ranges it again as a penitent pilgrim, bound, for the heavier penance, in iron chains. Since, however, the Ballads concern themselves little with ecclesiastical orthodoxy, the penance is depicted as ending, not at any saintly shrine, but at the grave of his enemy.
The belief that the warrior’s favourite weapons were animated by a mysterious personality is familiar to all students of Old Norse literature. One celebrated example occurs in Njàls Saga, 79, when Høgni, stealing out with Skarpheðinn by night to avenge the death of Gunnar, takes down the dead hero’s halberd, and hears it singing aloud. (The O.N. impersonal idiom, “it sang in the halberd,” hints at the indwelling soul.) “Then sprang up Rannveig (Gunnar’s mother) and cried in bitter wrath, ‘Who is taking the halberd, which I forbade all men to touch?’ ‘I would carry it,’ said Høgni, ‘to my father, that he may have it in Valhalla, and bear it at the Weapon Thing.’ ‘Further than that,’ said she, ‘wilt thou bear it, even to thy father’s avenging, for the halberd declares the death of one man or more.’”
That magical forces, once unchained, might end by destroying their liberator—that the naming of the name conferred power over the name’s possessor—are superstitions common to almost all primitive races.
Versions of this Ballad exist in Swedish, Norwegian, and Faroëse.
XVI
THE AVENGING SWORD
1
Sir Peter rode to the castle door,
The King of Danes he stood before.
—Forward, hurrah! ride forward.
2
“Welcome, Sir Peter, comrade mine!
Say, hast thou avenged that sire o’ thine?”
3
“Oh, I ha’ been so southerly
Until the sun bowed down to me.
4
“And I ha’ been so westerly
Until the sun sank near to me.
5
“And I ha’ been so northerly
Until the frost was frore to see.
6
“And I ha’ been so easterly
Until the day was fair to see;
7
“But never did I find the wight
Could rede me my father’s death aright!”
8
“Oh, say, what wilt thou give the wight
Can rede thee thy father’s death aright?”
9
“Of silver he shall have his fill,
And of golden coin whate’er he will!
10
“Yea, more I’ll give to him,
A ship in sailing-trim!”
11
He smiled, the King, his words to heed:
“Here stands he that did the deed!
12
“By God in heaven, I tell thee true,
None but I thy father slew!”
13
Sir Peter smote himself on the breast:
“Heart, bide still, nor break thy rest!
14
“Heart, lie still, bide patiently:
Sure and swift shall my vengeance be.”
15
In the garth Sir Peter stayed
To speak with his good blade:
16
“Harken, sword so good!
Wilt drink thy fill of blood?
17
“Good brown brand, wilt fight for me?
No brother have I on earth but thee.”
18
“Oh, say, how can I fight for thee?
My hilt lies broken in pieces three.”
19
To the smith his way he wended
That the hurt might be amended.
20
He gave him iron, he gave him steel
Of proof and price, the hurt to heal.
21
“Good brown brand, wilt fight for me?
No brother have I on earth but thee.”
22
“Be only in thy blows so stern
As I’ll be swift in point to turn!
23
“Be only in thy blows so stout
As I in hilt will bear thee out!”
24
Sir Peter sought the hall
Where the knights were drinking all.
25
To prove his sword he was so fain
That seven champions straight lay slain;
26
Up and down he swung his blade,
Neither matron he spared nor maid;
27
Behind the arras there he thrust,
The King and his sons they bit the dust.
28
Up spake the babe, in cradle lay:
“A red revenge dost thou wreak to-day!
29
“A red revenge for that sire o’ thine—
God give me a day for avenging mine!”
30
“And have I avenged that sire o’ mine,
Shalt see no day for avenging thine!”
31
He seized the babe amain,
And struck it straight in twain.
32
“Cease, brown brand, thy thirst to slake!
Bide thou still for our Saviour’s sake!”
33
Wearily whispered the sword and still:
“Fain o’ thy blood I’d have my fill!
34
“Hadst thou not named my name, I vow
I would have slain thee, here and now!”
35
He sought the smith again,
Bade forge an iron chain.
36
He bound in chains both foot and hand,
For now would he leave for aye the land.
37
But when o’er the grave of the King he passed
The chains of iron were riven and brast.
—Forward, hurrah! ride forward.
XVII
THE ELFIN SHAFT
“After the old gods had vanished,” says Olrik, “and before the Christian God was personally apprehended, arose the rich poetry which deals with Nature-Spirits.”
They always appear in the older Ballads under a grim and treacherous aspect; the Nixies, for instance, are such as we find in the “Ballad of Annan Water.”
“The bonnie grey mare did sweat with fear,
For she heard the water-kelpie roaring.”
This fear, natural to a human-kind as yet not master of the elements, was intensified by the teaching of the Church. In the Eddic mythology the Dwarfs had their own recognized place, whereas their semi-descendants, the Fairies or Nature-Spirits, not being Angels, were regarded as Devils by priestly eyes. Only in later Ballads, such as “Agnes and the Merman,” and “The Mermaid’s Soothsaying,” do we find any hint of compassion for the soulless fay.
The theme of this Ballad—the fairy’s fatal love for a mortal—originated in Northern France, whence it crept into the folk-lore of Europe in general. (Gervase of Tilbury has a warning word to young men on the dangers of elfin flirtations; and the Rev. — Kirk in his Secret Commonwealth (1691) points out their “inconvenience.”) The peasant of Annam, too, knows the “con-tinh,” the wild-haired feminine Genii who dance on a starless night, and lure mortal youths to their undoing.
To the Elfin Shaft or Elfin Bolt was attributed sudden death or seizure of pain, either in man or beast, among the Scandinavians.
The Icelandic form of the Ballad heightens the horror by the addition of those fiery portents associated with burial-houses containing treasure, guarded by fairies or by the dead. The “false fairy” stabs Sir Oluf with a sword, which, under cover of her cloak, she takes from her “treasure chest of gold.”
“Sign ye your brows with the holy cross,
(They will woo him to undo him)
Sancta Maria, watch over us!
(See the red flames leaping high!
Blithe lay the bower beneath the fells,
Blithe lay the bower the fells hard by.)”
XVII
THE ELFIN SHAFT
1
Sir Oluf hath ridden west and east
To bid his friends to his bridal feast.
—Gay goes the dance by the greenwood tree.
2
By the howe he took his way,
And there danced elf and fay.
3
There they danced in blithesome band;
The Elf-king’s daughter reached forth her hand.
4
The Elf-king’s daughter her hand stretched she:
“And will Sir Oluf tread a measure with me?”
5
“I may not, I dare not, the measure tread!
To-morrow morn shall I be wed.”
6
“Oh, tread now a measure, Sir Oluf, with me!
Two buckskin boots will I give to thee,
7
“Boots well beseeming a knight so bold,
With spurs thereto of red, red gold.
8
“Oh, tread now a measure, Sir Oluf, with me!
A silken kirtle I’ll give to thee,
9
“A silken kirtle so fair and fine
That my mother bleached in the pale moonshine.”
10
“I may not, I dare not, the measure tread!
To-morrow morn shall I be wed.”
11
“Oh, tread now a measure, Sir Oluf, with me!
An orb of gold I will give to thee.”
12
“An orb of gold I fain would win,
But I may not dance with the fairy kin.”
13
“And if thou wilt not dance with me,
Scathe and sickness shall follow thee!”
14
She struck Sir Oluf under his heart,
Deep in its roots he felt the smart.
15
She lifted him up on his horse of pride:
“Go home, go home, and seek thy bride!”
16
Oh, he rode up to his castle door,
And it was his mother that stood before.
17
“Lithe now and listen, Sir Oluf my son,
Why is thy cheek so white and wan?”
18
“Well may my cheek be wan and white,
I have seen the elf-maids’ sport to-night!”
19
“Lithe now and listen, dear son of mine,
What shall I say to that bride of thine?”
20
“Shalt say I am in the mead
A-proving hound and steed.”
21
All on the morrow ere dawn was grey
The bride rode in with glad array
22
They poured the mead and they poured the wine:
“Now where is Sir Oluf, dear bridegroom mine?”
23
“Sir Oluf is in the mead
A-proving hound and steed.”
24
“Oh, doth he love hound and horse of pride
Better than he loves his bride?”
25
She sought him alow, she sought him aloft,
She found Sir Oluf sleeping soft.
26
She lifted the cloak of scarlet red,
There lay Sir Oluf, was cold and dead.
27
She kissed him in the bridal-bower,
She died herself the self-same hour.
28
All so early, ere dawn was red,
Were three in Sir Oluf’s hold lay dead.
29
Sir Oluf lay dead, and his bride also;
The third was his mother, that died for woe.
—The dance goes gay by the greenwood tree.
XVIII, XIX
THE KNAVISH MERMAN
AGNES AND THE MERMAN
That the first of these Ballads is the more ancient appears probable through its conception of the Merman—the grim troll with his shape-changing and his glamour, fit image of the inexorable sea. The fine imaginative touch of the holy images averting their heads must have been borrowed from this by the later Ballad. Versions exist in Swedish, Norwegian, Faroëse, Icelandic, and English (“Clerk Colvill and the Mermaid”).
The “Agnes” Ballad must, I take it, have been known to Matthew Arnold, who enriched its simple folk-melody with the elaborate orchestration of his “Forsaken Merman.” But, for dramatic power and genuine feeling, the honours remain with the more primitive bard.
It dates from the late mediæval period when creative power was on the wane, and is an adaptation of the German “Schöne Agnete”—which, in its turn, has a Slav original. The German Ballad, however, takes the more primitive view of the Merman, who ends by destroying his mortal mistress. Later Danish minstrels—Sven Grundtvig among them—have altered the conclusion accordingly.
XVIII
THE KNAVISH MERMAN
1
Gay goes the dance in the kirkyard there,
—Welladay—
They dance, the knights, with blades so bare,
—Methinks ’tis hard to ride away.
2
They dance, the maidens, with hair unbound;
It was the King’s daughter sang the round.
3
Proud was the Princess, sweet was her song;
That heard the Merman, the waves among.
4
Up rose the Merman, thus spake he:
“Perchance the King’s daughter will wed with me!”
5
Garments he shaped and a golden ring,
He called him Sir Alfast, son of a King.
6
He shaped him a steed so black and bold,
He rode like a knight in a saddle of gold.
7
He tied his steed where the shade was mirk,
Withershins went he round the kirk.
8
Into the kirk the Merman hied,
And all the holy images they turned their heads aside
9
Up spake the priest by the altar that stood:
“Who may he be, this knight so good?”
10
The Princess smiled, her cloak behind:
“Now would to God the knight were mine!”
11
“Listen, proud Princess, and love thou me!
A crown of gold I’ll give to thee.”
12
“Over three kingdoms my father was King,
But ne’er did he give me so fair a thing.”
13
He wrapped her in his cloak of blue,
Forth from the kirk they fared, they two.
14
They met all on the wold
The steed with saddle of gold.
15
As they rode o’er the lea
He became a troll, so foul to see.
16
When they rode down to the water’s brim
He became a troll, so fierce and grim.
17
“Sir Alfast, thou art christened man,
What wilt thou with this water wan?”
18
“No knight am I, nor christened man,
My dwelling is in this water wan!”
19
And when they reached the midmost Sound
Fifty fathom they sank to ground.
20
Long heard the fishers with dread and dree
How the King’s daughter sobbed under the sea!
—Welladay!
Methinks ’tis hard to ride away.
XIX
AGNES AND THE MERMAN
1
Agnes she walked on the edge of the steep,
And up came a Merman out from the deep.
—Ha ha ha!
Up came a Merman out from the deep.
2
“Lithe now and listen, Agnes, to me,
And say if thou wilt my true-love be?”
3
“Yes, good sooth, that will I be
Wilt thou bear me down to the depths o’ the sea.”
4
Oh, he has stopped her ears and stopped her mouth beside,
And borne her down all under the tide.
5
There she dwelt eight years and more,
Seven sons she to the Merman bore.
6
Agnes she sat by the cradle and sang,
And she heard how the bells of England rang.
7
She to the Merman did speak and say:
“May I go up in the kirk to pray?”
8
“Thou hast my leave to go withal,
But see thou come back to thy children small.
9
“When to the kirkyard thou dost fare,
Then see thou let not down thy shining golden hair.
10
“And when thou enterest in the door
Then sit by thy mother’s side no more.
11
“When the priest names the Name of dread,
Then bow not down thy head.”
12
Oh, he has stopped her ears and stopped her mouth amain,
And so he bore her up to England’s shores again.
13
When thro’ the kirkyard she did fare,
Oh then did she let down her shining golden hair.
14
And when she entered in the door
She sat by her mother, as of yore.
15
When the priest named the Name of dread,
Then she bowed down her head.
16
“Agnes, my daughter, I ask of thee,
Where hast thou been eight years away from me?”
17
“I dwelt in the sea eight years and more,
Seven sons I to the Merman bore.”
18
“Now tell me, daughter, and fear no blame,
What did he give for thy maiden fame?”
19
“He gave me a ring of golden sheen,
Never a better one hath the Queen.
20
“Of golden shoon he gave me a pair,
Never a better the Queen might wear.
21
“He gave me a harp of gold to play
That I might touch its strings and wile my cares away.”
22
The Merman he made him a path so strait
Up from the strand to the kirkyard gate.
23
Into the kirk the Merman hied,
And all the holy images they turned their heads aside.
24
Like the purest gold was his shining hair,
His eyes were full of sorrow and care.
25
“Lithe now and listen, Agnes, to me;
All thy little children are longing after thee!”
26
“Let them long as they will, let their longing be sore,
I shall return to them nevermore!”
27
“Oh, think of the big ones and think of the small!
Of the baby in the cradle think thou most of all.”
28
“I think not of the big ones, I think not of the small,
Of the baby in the cradle I’ll think least of all!”
—Ha ha ha!
Of the baby in the cradle I’ll think least of all.
XX
THE ENCHANTED MAIDEN
The story told by this Ballad takes us into no very remote region of Faërie; wicked stepdame, enchanted maid, and knightly deliverer are all familiar personages. The belief in human blood as means whereby the bewitched mortal is delivered from the beast-likeness is found in the folk-lore of many nations, and may be a dim memory of sacrificial cannibal feasts. But the beautiful Introductory Stanzas are noteworthy; for such detailed descriptions of Nature occur but rarely in Ballads, Danish or other. This one recalls the famous opening of one among the Ballads of Robin Hood:
“In summer when the shawes be sheen,
And leves be large and long,
It is full merrie in fair forest
To hear the foulës’ song,
“To see the deere draw to the dale,
And leave the hillës hie,
And shelter them in the levës greene,
Under the greenwood tree.”
A verse of another Danish Ballad might have been spoken by Little John, who bids his “dere master” pluck up heart, “and think this is a merrie time, all in a morning of May”:
“Os fry der Aarsens Tid og Tag
det Maj i Morgen er;
den kommer os alle til Behag
alt baade fjern og nær.”
XX
THE ENCHANTED MAIDEN
Oh, well I wot where the greenwood grows
That standeth beside the firth,
And in it there grow the fairest trees
That a man may see on earth!
Therein the willow and linden grow,
The fairest a man may find,
And under them play the lordly beasts
That men call hart and hind.
There they play, both hind and hart,
And the beasts of the fair forest,
And there she plays, the lily-white hind,
With gold beneath her breast.
1
It was Nilus Erlandsson
Rode forth the deer to take;
There he saw the lily-white hind
That ran thro’ bush and brake.
—So the knight hath won his lady.
2
After went Nilus Erlandsson
That longed for her so sore;
But never might he reach the hind
For three days’ space and more.
3
Snares he set on every path
Where’er the hind might go,
But all so cunning was she
He might not take her so.
4
Sir Nilus thro’ the greenwood
Rode after her in vain;
His hounds he loosed by two, by three,
To run her down amain.
5
So hot the hounds went on her trail
That never might she ’scape;
She changed her all by grammarye
And fled in a falcon’s shape.
6
She shaped her as a falcon fleet,
And perched in the linden green;
Under the tree Sir Nilus stood
And sighed for toil and tene.
7
Sir Nilus took an axe in hand
To fell the linden-tree,
When out there sprang a yeoman fierce
That smote the shaft in three.
8
“And wilt thou fell my father’s wood
And all by wrongful power,
I swear to thee, Nilus Erlandsson,
Thou shalt abye it sore!”
9
“Now let me fell this single tree,
This tree alone of thine,
For, but I take the falcon fair,
I die of dule and pine!”
10
“Now lithe and listen, thou fair young knight,
To the counsel that I bring;
Ne’er shalt thou take her until she taste
The flesh of a tamèd thing!”
11
A gobbet he hewed from out his breast,
(And that was mickle pain!)
She spread her wings and down she flew
And fell on the bait amain.
12
She spread her wings and down she flew
And on the bait she fell;
She changed her shape to the fairest maid
That ever tongue might tell.
13
She stood in a sark of silk so red
Where the linden-tree did blow;
The knight he took her in his arms,
And there she wept her woe.
14
“Oh, I sat and broidered lily and rose,
I guided my father’s gear,
When in she came, my false stepdame,
That never held me dear.
15
“She shaped me all as a lily-white hind
To run in fair greenwood,
And my seven maidens as seven wolves,
And bade them have my blood.”
16
The maid stood under the linden-tree,
And loosed her golden hair,
And thither they came that erst were wolves,
Her seven maidens fair.
17
“Now thanks to thee, Nilus Erlandsson,
Hast loosed me from sore alarms!
Never shalt thou seek slumber
But in my lily-white arms.
18
“Now thanks to thee, Nilus Erlandsson,
Hast saved me from pain and pest!
Never shalt thou seek slumber
But on my lily-white breast.”
—So the knight hath won his lady.