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Read Ebook: Niels Ebbesen and Germand Gladenswayne: Two Ballads by Wise Thomas James Editor Borrow George Translator
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Ebook has 140 lines and 7299 words, and 3 pages
"To my choice three things he put, Least of all I liked the third; I should join him, or the land Quit, or hang, such was his word."
"Ah! what counsel can I give From my simple woman's mind? The most desperate counsel's best, Can we but that counsel find.
"The most desperate counsel's best, If we can but it discover; Either slay the tyrant, or Burn the house the tyrant over.
"To the smithy lead your steeds, Let them all be shod anew; Turn ye all the heels afore, Thus your trace will cheat the view.
"Turn ye all the heels afore, Track ye thus, I ween, can no man; Never tell to mortal wight, Thou hast learnt this from a woman."
"Here my gallant swains ye sit, Merry-making o'er your drink; Every lad who loves his lord From his lord now must not shrink."
Up then rose the Courtmen bold, To take on anew agreed; Save Sir Niels' sister's son, From his uncle would recede.
Swore the knights a solemn oath That for him their lives they'd stake, And with him would dauntless ride Wheresoe'er a fray he'd make.
So they rode to Fruerlund, From their steeds they there dismount; Into Randers then they walked, To beat up the hairless Count.
It was Sir Niels Ebbesen, To the bridge of Randers came: "He who's loath to follow me Straightway his discharge may claim."
Forward stepped the tiny Frost, Thought the truest of the true: "Give me my dismissal, Sir, Give me horse and saddle too."
So he sought and got discharge, Saddle got and steed withall; But he served his master best That same day ere evening fall.
To the Count's door rode Sir Niels, Ne'er from that withdrew his look; Thrice thereon with iron lance Heavily the hero strook.
"Rise up from thy sleep, my lord! Let me in right speedily; Thy dear brother, Henrik Count, Has dispatched me unto thee."
"Let your page but at the door Take from me the entrusted scroll; Ribe hard invested is, Colding town is burnt to coal.
"Ribe hard invested is, Colding's burnt, and Vedel's flung Open to our troops its gate, And Niels Ebbesen is hung."
"If what thou hast told be truth, News it is to make one gay; Thou shalt in respect be held Herald till thy dying day.
"Page! no more keep fast the door, Let me on the herald gaze; For that we the land have won Is the sum of what he says."
To the window went the Count, Thence his eye the lances caught: "Ha! Niels Ebbesen's at hand, Curse the hour I Denmark sought."
Fierce with shields the doors they banged, Burst the locks with frequent blow: "Hairless Count! art thou within? Hairless Count, we pledge thee now!"
"Set thee down, Niels Ebbesen, We shall things accommodate; Let us send to Henrik Count, And Claus Krummedige straight."
"Not so yesterday didst thou Speak, Sir Count, by Randers strand; Then thou saidst that I should hang, Or should quit my native land."
Up and spoke the black young page, Black because he was not white: "Straight desist from useless talk, Let, I rede, your faulchions bite."
"I've no castles, Sir, which can Such a prisoner long contain; Now, ye men, spare not your swords! Hew at him with might and main!"
So the tyrant Count they took, Made him kneel upon the floor; And his bald head off they hewed, Hewed it off the bedstead o'er.
Soon as they the Count had slain, Loud the drums the alarum beat; It was Sir Niels Ebbesen From the town would fain retreat.
From the town he hasted then, Dared no longer there to stay; Soon met him Sir Ove Hals, And essayed to bar his way.
"Do thou hear, Sir Ove Hals! Do to me no injury! Thou my faithful cousin art, Prythee, Ove, let me flee."
"Our affinity I know Well I know its near degree; But my Lord you've foully slain, Niels! I will not let thee flee."
Bleat the sheep, the ganders hiss, Crows the cock upon the wall; Ove Hals was sore beset, Must to the Holsteiners call.
'Gainst the Danes he could not stand, Must to the Holsteiners call; "Murdered is your liege the Count Up, and on his butchers fall!"
Fight Sir Ove and Sir Niels, Ebbesen he would not fly, He Sir Ove's head smote off, Left the corse in blood to lie.
Ebbesen to Randers bridge Came, there grew the combat hot, There he found the tiny Frost Who had late dismissal got.
Niels sped over Randers bridge, Holstein's men came thronging after; What did then the tiny Frost But the bridge drop in the water.
Thanks to Niels's sister's son, Well he served his uncle then; In the firth the planks he cast, No bridge found the Holstein men.
Niels a widow visited, She'd but barley bannocks two, One she gave to Niels, because He the hairless tyrant slew.
Ebbesen! God sain thy soul, Never was a braver Dane; Thou didst free thy fatherland From a foreign tyrant's chain.
Christ bless every gallant man, Who shall both with mouth and hand, In the time of its distress, Seek to serve his fatherland!
GERMAND GLADENSWAYNE
Our King and Queen sat o'er the board In high festivity; Between them there was much discourse About the briny sea.
Our gallant King and youthful Queen They sailed across the foam; Much better had it been for both That they had stayed at home.
But barely they a mile had gone When still the vessel stood, There came a raven wild, who strove, To sink them in the flood.
"If any thing the ship doth hold Concealed beneath the main, I'll give thee, bird, a lump of gold To set it free again.
"O do not sink us in the sea, Swart bird," exclaimed the Queen, "And I'll give thee a lump of gold Weighs Bismer pounds fifteen."
"Gold and silver I heed them not, I crave another fee, The treasure neath thy girdle fair Thou now must promise me.
"Plenty of gold I have myself, From gold no help you'll find, On what beneath your girdle's hid I've firmly set my mind."
"I give what neath my girdle's hid, My bunch of keys--what more? I'll speedily have others forged If I but win to shore."
Then straight she took the little keys And cast them overboard; Away then flew the Raven, glad He had obtained her word.
The Queen walks on the yellow sand, Then o'er her came a gloom, She felt that Germand Gladenswayne Was quick within her womb.
And from that day when five short months Her head had flitted o'er, The Queen she went to the chamber high, And a lovely son she bore.
Born was he in the evening hour, They christened him at night; They called him Germand Gladenswayne, Concealed him whilst they might.
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