DANISH BALLADS

CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS
C. F. CLAY, Manager
LONDON: FETTER LANE, E.C. 4

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

DANISH BALLADS

TRANSLATED BY
E. M. SMITH-DAMPIER

CAMBRIDGE
AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS
1920

Printed in Great Britain by
Richard Clay & Sons, Limited,
BRUNSWICK ST., STAMFORD ST., S.E. 1,
AND BUNGAY, SUFFOLK.

PREFACE

So far as possible, I have reproduced the metrical variations of the original Ballads, and striven in general rather for literal accuracy than poetical effect.

All proper names are to be pronounced after the Danish fashion—with the one exception of “Sir Klaus Krummerdike” (“Niels Ebbeson,” Revised Conclusion, v. 46)—a lapse which, from a sorely-tried rhymester’s point of view, surely deserves rather mercy than judgment.

The Burdens should, of course, be repeated with each verse, but, for convenience’ sake, I have followed the modern custom in placing them only at beginning and end of the Ballads.

I am deeply indebted to the late Dr. Axel Olrik, who gave me invaluable criticism on my work as a translator. His Introduction to Danske Folkeviser i Udvalg (Copenhagen) is indispensable to the student. To his literary executors, Hr. Hans Ellekilde and Frøken I. Falbe Hansson, I am indebted for leave to make use of some of his ballad-versions.

My thanks are due also to Messrs. Andrew Melrose, Ltd., by whose courtesy I am enabled to reprint many translations previously published.

E. M. Smith-Dampier.

London, 1920.

CONTENTS

DANISH BALLADS

INTRODUCTION

It may be assumed that the student who approaches the Danish Ballads has already acquired some acquaintance with the prevailing theories as to the origin of Ballads in general. On that dark and debatable question I am unqualified to enter. To the earnest beginner I commend Dr. T. F. Henderson’s excellent Cambridge Manual The Ballad in Literature, where the opinions of Child, Gummere, Kittredge, and other authorities, are discussed with lucidity, learning, and common-sense. Suffice it here and now to say that those who push to extremes the theory of Communal Authorship must be capable of belief in that mythological personage who was born of nine mothers. While some Ballads (with their Incremental Repetition and so forth) were obviously created between leader and chorus in the Dance, others, no less obviously, were the work of individual poets. As the nineteenth century had its Walter Scott and its Hawker of Moorwinstow, so earlier ages had the anonymous minstrels who stamped the mark of original genius on “Niels Ebbeson” and “Sir Patrick Spens.”

“At the period when these songs were born, classes were mingled together, or rather did not as yet exist. The people was one; it was the élite, the best among them, who interpreted what all felt, but all could not express—who sang in the name of all. And thus it is that this poetry belongs to the populace as a whole.... It resembles a stone constantly rolled by the waves” (Pineau).

Child, moreover, points out that the British Ballad “was not originally the property of the common orders among the people”—and in Denmark, says Henderson, “it was fostered and favoured more particularly by the upper classes, and was for some centuries the chief medium of literary expression and culture.”

In Denmark, as elsewhere, the more primitive forms of the Ballad were closely connected with the Dance—the carole, or circular dance with joined hands, accompanied by the voice; a pastime which still survives in the Faroë Islands. The word Ballad, indeed, is derived from the South Italian ballare = to dance, which in its turn comes from the Greek. The Teutonic tribes, whose sword-dances are mentioned by Tacitus, may, in the beginning, have learnt dancing from the Celts. Be that as it may, the round dance became popular throughout Europe during the early Middle Ages (roughly speaking, between 1149-1400), and took the North by storm, from the King’s court to the Icelandic farmstead. The dance-songs made light of frontiers, just as the Australian corroborees pass, irrespective of language, from tribe to tribe. Vainly did Saxo Grammaticus record his opinion that “such mountebank antics” (gøglerspring) were unworthy of persons of quality. Every knight had his own dancing-ground—as do Papuan chiefs at the present day. Vainly did the Church frown on a pastime associated with Beltane fires, and other unhallowed survivals of paganism. Absalon, it is true, when in 1158 he became Bishop of Sjælland, put a stop to light-heeled frolic among the merry monks of Eskilø. The Copenhagen clergy in 1425 forbade “heathen” songs and dances on the Feast of S. John. But the churchyard was still the popular place to dance in, especially on the wake-nights of the greater festivals, when the people assembled from far and near. England behaved no better; a shocking record exists of an English priest, so obsessed by the refrain which had rung in his ears all night, that he began the Mass with “myn hertë swete!”

The leader of the Dance sang the Ballad proper: the other dancers came in as chorus with the Burden or Refrain. Some Burdens merely imitate instrumental music; such are our own Hey nonny nonny, Tirly low (the shepherd’s pipe)—the Danish Hejt lejt lejtli, tra fal de ral, etc. Others were derived from the Ballad itself, which was originally a lyrical outburst improvised by the singer.

Here is a gay example from the Icelandic:

“Fair the swan is singing

All the summer-tide:

Sweet it is to dance and play

My lily white!

Fair the swan is singing” (Burden).

Or, in graver mood:

“Heavy are my sorrows,

A load of lead to bear,

Burnt are all the castles

Were builded new and fair.”

(This was sung by the Icelander Thord Andresson when treacherously captured by Gissur the Earl, 1264.)

A list of Icelandic Dance-Burdens is given in the Corpus Poeticum Boreale.

The beginning of the thirteenth century inaugurated a new fashion. Narrative poetry—originally a separate art—was combined with the dance-lyric. Fables, for instance, were borrowed from the Troubadours, the Minnesingers, and the various foreign minstrels attached to the Danish court. The lyrics were sometimes retained as introductory stanzas, sometimes broken up into Burdens. Thus the song:

“The King he rules the castle

And over all the land,

And over many a warrior bold

With shining sword in hand,”

lent its first line as Burden to a Ballad of King Didrik:

“King Didrik sits in Brattingsborg,

And far and wide looks he:

Oh, none know I in all the world

Who may my equal be!

The King he rules the castle.”

Every Ballad, in time, came to have its own introductory stanza, calculated to arouse the hearer’s attention and attune it to the story which followed—had also its own Burden, which echoed the principal theme. But many have survived shorn of both adjuncts: and a few have borrowed Burdens, sometimes far from appropriate.

The Danish Ballads, like all others, deal with love, warfare, and witchcraft. Like all others, they are pagan at heart. Some of their themes are peculiar to Denmark, some common to all Europe. The similarity, for instance, between certain Danish and Scottish Ballads suggests that the one country borrowed them directly from the other. The editors of the C.P.B. (where a list may be found) give the lead in the matter to Scotland; but other authorities are of a different opinion. Generally speaking, it is acknowledged that Denmark’s literary output was influenced far less by Britain than by France and the other Latin countries.

But, be the themes what they may, the Danish Ballads inform them with their own characteristic spirit—the glamour and grimness of the North. The battle-scenes show us glimpses of Bersark fury, and weapons with demon souls. The Dark Powers in the Ballads of magic are those born of long winter nights and misty waters. Here and there we meet with the gods of Valhalla, and the heroes sung in Old Norse Lays. Woman, in the love-ballads, is no Troubadour’s divinity, but a human helpmeet of warriors—brave, shrewd, strong-minded, occasionally strong-armed to boot. As for humour, while we have rollicking man-at-arms fun of the “Kinmont Willie” type, and some dry, pawky, Scots-like wit, a few Ballads charm us with such a delicate, wistful archness as flowers again in Andersen’s fairy-tales. There are, indeed, a number of Satirical Ballads, whose characters—gaffer and gammer, wandering fiddler, Bishop’s Daughter, and Mighty Maid—burlesque the heroes and heroines of the Ballads of chivalry. These, however, from the poetical standpoint, are of little or no significance.

The social conditions depicted in these Ballads are, in many respects, peculiar to Scandinavia. The atmosphere is distinctly democratic. Denmark had no school of court-poetry, no minstrel-class corresponding to the Troubadours and Minnesingers. Her kings made foreign marriages, and imported foreign talent; no petty courts, princely or ducal, existed to serve as centres of culture.[1] The native singers found patrons among the native gentry, or lesser nobility—the Knights, whose position in many respects was that of the old-time English country squire. With the tastes, interests, and outlook of this class the Ballads as a whole are chiefly concerned.

Apart from such ballad-cycles as those dealing with the two Valdemars, the King mostly appears merely as a power in the background—a deus (or, more frequently, a diabolus) ex machinâ. Of devoted loyalty, of patriotism identified with the royal person, we find traces only in the most ancient historical Ballads—with an occasional after-echo such as the Page’s words in the “King-Slaying in Finderup” (No. 6). His courtiers and “captains” are derided by the country-bred minstrel: “So long have they served in the royal court they can bear nor heat nor smoke!”

The Church, too, is only seen afar off—affects the Knight chiefly through the convent school, where young ladies are educated. The Burgher is an unknown quantity. Only in a late (fifteenth-century) Ballad do we hear of the rich merchants, with houses in “Randers street,” whose gilded vanes gleam over the walls, shaming the castles of envious Knights.

The Yeoman (Bonde) class was that with which this lesser nobility was most intimately connected—the class whence it sprang, wherein it was merged after the Peasant Revolt of 1584. Well-born youths are described as “noble yeomen’s sons” (ædelige Bøndersønner), and a yeoman’s wife makes occasional appearance as heroine of a Ballad. The Knight defends the yeoman against pillage and oppression. The two classes, however, are distinct, and keep their distance. The Knight may farm his own land—may even be found holding the plough—but he is, none the less, the yeoman’s social superior. His daughter, if she weds a yeoman, must “doff the scarlet fine, and don the wadmal grey.”

The Knight was served by his Squires (svende)—sometimes of yeoman extraction, but more frequently landless nobles, or younger sons—his lady by her Maidens. The former received wages, and a training in chivalry; the latter learnt polite deportment, household duties, and needle-craft. Thus in our own “Fause Foodrage”:

“And ye sall teach my gay goss-hawk

To wield baith bow and brand,

And I sall teach your turtle-doo

To lay gowd wi’ her hand.”

The Knight’s existence, then, much resembled the Viking’s—was passed in warfare, with intervals of agriculture, of sport, or even of commerce. That it was lived chiefly “on the land” is shown by a thousand touches and images racy of the soil. The arrows stick “thick as hay” in Knight Stig’s mantle; young Engelbret hews down his foes “as the peasant cuts down corn.” The Knight’s absences from home are frequently mentioned—absences on foray, on trading journeys, or at the Thing—the Yeomen’s Thing or District Council, distinct from the great national Land’s Thing. There the local notabilities met to settle local affairs, conclude bargains, and dispose of their children’s hands in marriage (see “Lovel and John,” No. 28).

As this Knight was to some extent a country squire, so his dwelling rather resembled a fortified farm than a feudal castle. Its garth (gaard), surrounded by a palisade, contained a collection of separate buildings, mostly built of wood, and thatched with straw or reed. The linden tree which shaded the garth, and the castle gate which afforded a glimpse of the outer world, figure largely in the Ballads.

The main building contained the principal living-rooms, and was adorned with carved beams projecting from the gables—which beams, in process of time, were replaced by weather-vanes. Access both to ground-floor and upper storey (højeloft) was obtained by means of an outside gallery-staircase (svalegang, højloftssvale), where the traveller was wont to hang up his cloak (axler sit Skind) ere he entered the hall.

Refuge from attack was to be found in another building, the Stone-hall (stenstue)—or, where this was lacking, in the nearest church tower. (The term “stenstue” is occasionally applied to the main building, should it happen to be built of stone, but this is exceptional.)

“A house have I walled round with stone

That stands my garth within;

I wot when I take refuge there

I fear not a hundred men!”

Another most important building was the Maiden’s Bower, richly adorned, and “locked right well” lest it be “broken” by over-importunate suitors. Those fathers were censured as “inexperienced” who built it in too remote a spot.

A few Ballads speak of castles with dungeons and fortified gates, but these were few and far between.

Towards the close of the Middle Ages manners underwent a change; antique simplicity was corrupted. These unpretentious knights were swamped by the rise of a more powerful nobility, who united their estates through intermarriages, and followed the fashions of the court. The round dance was driven from the castle to the farmhouse. Persons of quality, however, retained a certain amount of interest in the old Ballads; and to this interest the fact is owing that Ballads in Denmark were earlier written down than those of any other European country. The young lady of the sixteenth century was wont to keep an album, wherein verses were inscribed by her friends; and, amid love-complaints, compliments, moral emblems, and so forth, the old national folk-poems found their place. From these albums were gathered the first collections of Ballads. Every lady’s bower had its own collection—and the singing of the Ballads during the long winter evenings led to much disastrous dilution of the original texts.

With the coming in of the seventeenth-century Pastoral, the fashionable career of the Ballad was over, but its value was recognized from the literary and historical point of view; and the business of collection began in earnest. Royal patronage was not lacking. In June 1586 Queen Sophie visited Tycho Brahé in his observatory on the isle of Hveen, was storm-bound for three days, and entertained with Ballads by another guest, Anders Vedel the historian. He promised her a collection, which promise materialized in the shape of Queen Sophie’s Ballad Book, followed shortly by another based on the great folio MS. of the Odensee nunnery (Karen Brahé’s library).

The yeoman and peasant, meanwhile, remained faithful to the Ballad as a means of recreation, and continued to import new ones, mostly from Germany. Ballads were sung in Jutland until late in the nineteenth century, and many of these, not previously written down, were collected during the national revival of the eighteen-forties.

Danish Ballads were not only collected in MS., but printed and published earlier than those elsewhere—Vedel’s A Hundred Choice Danish Ballads in 1591; Tragica, or Love Ballads in 1657. Peter Syr’s enlarged collection followed in 1695. Danish Ballads from the Middle Ages was published in 1811-12 by Abrahamson, Nyerip, and Rahbek; and then came Sven Grundtvig’s epoch-making Denmark’s Ancient Ballads (1853), which contains every known version of every specimen, with critical and historical prefaces.

An excellent popular selection, by Axel Olrik and Ida Falbe Hansen (Danske Folkeviser i Udvalg), was published in 1912; and from the ballad-versions given therein I have prepared the translations which follow.

[1] With one exception—the ducal court at Gottorp in Sleswik; but its intellectual influence suffered from the constant warfare among the Holstein nobility.

HISTORICAL BALLADS

I, II
VALDEMAR AND TOVE (A) and (B)

The historical foundation for these two Ballads amounts only to this; that Valdemar I, or the Great (1157-82), had a mistress named Tove; that she bore him a son, Christopher; and that the King found it expedient to put her away, and ally himself with his opponent Knud Magnusson by marrying his half-sister Sophia. Nothing is known of Tove’s fate; her death at her rival’s hands is a figment of the popular fancy.

The older (A) version (preserved in Iceland) is chiefly interesting from its picture of Tove in the character of that perfect lover so dear to the mediæval masculine mind—the Patient Grizel, the Burd Ellen, who knows no jealousy where her lord’s affections are concerned. Valdemar’s apparently tactless questions are designed to bring out the contrast between the meek submission of the mistress and the frank hatred of the wife.

The Danish or B version, probably composed some fifty years later, takes a more human point of view. It sacrifices historical accuracy to dramatic effect by handing over Sophia’s son Knud (afterwards King) to Tove.

I
VALDEMAR AND TOVE, 1157 (A)

1

King Valdemar sailed here and there,

—Good sooth,—

He wed little Soffi, a maid so fair,

—King Valdemar he wooed them both.

2

“Harken, Tove mine, and hear,

Dost thou hold Queen Soffi dear?”

3

“Less dear to me, I ween

Than my son, I hold the Queen.

4

“I will give her a good grey steed,

And the name of Queen she shall bear indeed.”

5

“Harken, Soffi mine, and hear,

Dost thou hold my Tove dear?”

6

“I love her all so well

As the wild wolf in the dell.

7

“I will give her castles three,

She may burn therein for me!”

8

The Queen she spake to her page so small:

“Now bring Tovelille in to the hall!”

9

So fain was Tove to see the Queen

She clad her at night by the taper’s sheen.

10

She clad her in a kirtle of blue,

At every seam red gold shone through.

11

She clad her in a silken sark,

Of eleven maidens the handiwork.

12

She wrapped her in a cloak of red,

And thus to see the Queen she sped.

13

“Art fainer with the King to speak

Or the bath with me to seek?”

14

“Far fainer with the King I’d speak

Than the bath with thee I’d seek!”

15

Soffi the Queen was strong of arm,

She thrust her in to work her harm.

16

So hot she heated the fire beneath

That Tovelille could scarce draw breath.

17

“Help me, Christopher, son of mine!

Soffi will slay me in dule and pine!”

18

“Oh how should I give help to thee?

Twelve armed men have hold of me!”

19

Up spake the King, his men among,

“Why goeth not Tove to Evensong?”

20

Up spake Queen Soffi, red with wrath:

“Thy Tove is wearied with her bath!”

21

“Well, Soffi, will I pay thy pain,

Shalt never sleep in my bed again!

22

“Better was she with one cow for dower

Than thou art, Soffi, with town and tower!

23

“Better was Tove in silken sark

Than thou art, Soffi, with all thy goldsmith’s work!

24

“Dearer is Tovelil, tho’ she be dead,

Than thou, for all thy gold so red!”

25

The way was long, the way was drear,

The King himself bore up the bier.

—Good sooth.

King Valdemar, he wooed them both.

II
VALDEMAR AND TOVE (B)

1

Gay went the dance in King Valdemar’s hall,

There danced the Queen with maidens small;

—By my troth; King Valdemar he wooed them both.

2

There danced the Queen with maidens fair,

There danced Tove with waving hair.

3

“Harken now, Tove, my playfellow sweet!

Gird up thy silk skirts around thy feet.”

4

“Small praise from me the King should gain

If I might not trail a silken train.”

5

“Tove, my playfellow, tell to me

How did the King get his will o’ thee?”

6

“The King he won his will of me,

For stronger than I the King was he.

7

“I was but a maiden small

Dwelling in my father’s hall.

8

“So little and fair by the door stood I

When the King and all his merry men they came a-riding by.

9

“By nine, by ten, his knights he sent,

But never for their commands I went.

10

“The King he came himself with all his merry men,

And I, Tovelille, must follow then!”

11

“Tove, my playfellow, tell thou me

What bridal-gift he gave to thee.”

12

“He gave me a chest of golden sheen

Such as was never in Denmark seen.

13

“He gave to me nine rings of gold

That Sweden’s Queen did have and hold.

14

“He clad me in silk and in scarlet gay;

Thou and all thy maidens ne’er went in such array.”

15

Up spake Queen Soffi in anger wild:

“’Twas enough, I trow, for a yeoman’s child!

16

“By God the Lord, while I breathe and live,

Less by half to thee shall he give!”

17

The Queen she wrapped her in cloak of vair,

To speak with King Valdemar did she fare.

18

“Now answer what I ask of thee;

Why lovest thou Tove more than me?”

19

“For this Tovelille to me is dear,

Because she hath two sons that serve my person near.

20

“When Flensborg town I first rode by

Christopher bore my banner so high.

21

“When first I rode to Holsterland

Knud bore my banner in his right hand.”

22

Winters twain were gone and past

Ere the Queen got her will at last.

23

All on a holy Christmas day

Tove sought the kirk to pray.

24

Tovelille fared forth in the street,

Golden silk and samite went floating round her feet.

25

Forth from her window the Queen did spy,

She saw proud Tovelil passing by.

26

The Queen she spake to her maidens three:

“Now bid proud Tovelil come to me!”

27

Tove wrapped her in cloak of vair,

And unto Soffi’s bower did fare.

28

“Lithe now and listen, proud Tove, to me;

I will seek the bath to-night with thee.”

29

“Ne’er of the bath can I have my fill;

I’ll do thy bidding with right good-will!”

30

The Queen she spake to her pages three:

“Take heed that the bath is hot for me!

31

“Heat it hot, and heat it red!

There shall Tovelil lie dead!”

32

Tovelil went in before.

The Queen herself she locked the door.

33

“Here is no water, here is no lye!

Let me out for the sake of God on high!”

34

Christopher went riding by,

He heard his mother wail and cry.

35

He struck the door a blow so stout

That bolt and nail came leaping out.

36

He burst the door with rage and wrath,

He bore his mother forth from the bath.

37

He bore her out where the blossoms blow,

But she was dead ere first cock-crow.

—By my troth; King Valdemar he wooed them both.

III, IV, V
THE DAGMAR BALLADS
QUEEN BENGERD

Valdemar II (1202-41) has been strangely dealt with by the Ballads. They are silent alike as to the warlike exploits which won him the name of Sejr, the Victorious, and the administrative reforms commemorated in his other title of Legifer. His crusade against the heathen Esthonians—even the miraculous gift of the Dannebrog, the national standard blazoned in the armorial bearings of the conquered city Reval—left popular imagination unmoved. It seized, however, on the images of his two Queens, ascribing to the one all that was liked, to the other all that was loathed, in the King’s treatment of his subjects.

Dragomir the Bohemian came to Denmark in 1205, bore the King a son, Valdemar, and died two years later, probably in childbirth. From the first she was the people’s darling; her Slav name was changed to Dagmar (Dag-mø = day-maid or light-bringer) “by reason,” says a contemporary chronicler, “of her great beauty.”

The Ballads of her Bridal and Death were probably composed by the next generation, and have little pretension to historical accuracy. Bishop Valdemar, for instance, was not the Queen’s uncle, but the King’s first cousin—son of Knud Magnusson, whose sister was Valdemar’s mother. In consequence of an attempt to usurp the throne, as the German Emperor’s vassal, he was thrown into prison at Søberg, where he lay for fourteen years. His release in 1205 was due to the Pope’s intervention, aided, as a monkish chronicle puts it, “by the loving representations of Bishop Andreas and others”—but the people, perhaps with some reason, pictured Dagmar as the peacemaker.

A second Ballad of her bridal describes her wooing by Sir Strange as the King’s proxy:

“I saw a sail fare o’er the Sound,

—So many a pennon of gold—

There sailed he, Sir Strange, with Dagmar the Queen.”

Little is known of Valdemar’s second Queen, Berengaria, except that she too was beautiful. But, since she came of a contentious and covetous family, the popular view of her character may be accurate enough. The “binding the harbours with iron bands” means the closing of them with chains, so that tribute might be exacted from incoming vessels. The Ballad’s account of her death—a relishing piece of poetical justice—has no foundation in fact.

III
QUEEN DAGMAR’S BRIDAL, 1205

1