“The bitter flower, Sir King, you hold,
Brings you trouble, as I foretold.
Be sure if this year you seek the fray,
You suffer not Berngerd at home to stay.
Woe befall her, Berngerd.
“If she with her flatteries blind your eyes,
The child will weep in the cradle that lies.
Take her with you, I rede and beseech,
How that will boot you time will teach.”
Woe befall her, Berngerd.
The King has proclaimed through the whole country,
To the war with him each tenth man should hie.
“My dearest Lady, worthy thou art
In the field of honour to bear a part.”
Woe befall her, Berngerd.
The first shaft shot on the battle day
To the heart of Berngerd found its way;
No soul was seen with a tearful eye—
Who for Berngerd would sorrow or sigh?
Woe befall her, Berngerd.
Now lies Berngerd in the cold black ground,
Oxen are still in the Boor’s stall found.
Berngerd she lies ’neath the dingy sward,
The Danes their Monarch love and regard.
Woe befall her, Berngerd.
Now Berngerd lies in eternal pains,
The boor his horse and cow retains.
A name she left of such evil savour,
So little the poor man did she favour.
Woe befall her, Berngerd.
’Tis better to live in humble state,
Than rich with a poor man’s curse and hate;
After virtue better to ceaseless strain
Than the wealth of the world with scorn obtain.
Woe befall her, Berngerd.
DAME MARTHA’S FOUNTAIN
Dame Martha dwelt at Karisegaard,
So many kind deeds she wrought:
If the winter were sharp and the rich man hard,
Her gate the indigent sought.
With her hand the hungry she loved to feed,
To the sick she lent her aid;
The prisoner oft from his chains she freed,
And for souls of sinners pray’d.