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Read Ebook: Queen Berngerd The Bard and the Dreams and Other Ballads by Wise Thomas James Editor Borrow George Translator
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Ebook has 88 lines and 6482 words, and 2 pages
Editor: Thomas J. Wise
QUEEN BERNGERD THE BARD AND THE DREAMS AND OTHER BALLADS
BY GEORGE BORROW
LONDON: PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION 1913
QUEEN 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.
Denmark's land was in peril dire, The Swede around burnt and slew; The castle of Martha was wrapped in fire, To the church the good lady flew.
She dwelt in the tower both night and day, There unto her none repaired; 'Neath the church roof sat the dull owl gray, And at the good lady stared.
In the house of the Lord she dwelt safe and content 'Till the foes their departure had ta'en; Then back to her ruined castle she went, And bade it be builded again.
And when the Dame lay in her coffin and smil'd, So calm with her pallid face, O there was never so little a child But was brought on her to gaze.
The bell on the day of the burial toll'd, And youth and age shed the tear; No man was ever so weak or old But helped to lift the bier.
When they the bier set down for a space, And rested upon the road, A fountain sprang forth in that very place, To this hour has it flow'd.
God bless for ever the pious soul, Her blessings no lips can tell; For oft have the sick become sound and whole, Who drank at Dame Martha's well!
The tower yet stands with gloomy nook, Where Dame Martha sat of old; The stranger comes thereon to look, And to hear the story told.
THE BARD AND THE DREAMS
O'er the sweet smelling meads with his lyre in his hand The bard was straying; In the twilight of evening, refreshing and bland, His chords were playing. He sang of the flowrets that slept in the tomb, He sang of the flowrets that poured their perfume, He sang of the flowrets that yet were to bloom.
And the murmur and hum of the pure water fleeting, And the strains, which the birds of the wood were repeating, And the innocent heart, which so peaceful was beating, Shed health-giving slumbers, On lids which no sorrow cumbers.
In the visions of sleep there came to his side A sire with locks snow-hoary; And the songster sped with that sire for his guide To an unknown territory.
On ruins majestic himself he found, The mouldering bones of old heroes lay round; Their ghosts awaking Rose from their graves wild gestures making. The youth was quaking-- But the old man smiled as his mind he led To the kempion times long fled.
Then a lamp in the night's deep silence shone Through the dingy mould, And under the masses of fallen stone There glittered gold.
To the harp then pointing the sage disappears, And the youth shed tears. "Yes, yes, the young bard thy countenance knows," So sang in wild passion the boy-- "Not in vain in my bosom a holy fire glows, Not in vain thy bright lamp the grave's mystery shews, The bard will obey thee with joy."
Again there appeared in the dreams of the stripling A being who held him intent; It came as in flood come the high billows rippling, Like billows when ebbing it went.
Though the look of an aged and slow female wearing, It ran like the breezes in spring time careering, Full often it vanished with threatening bearing. But suddenly caught he the fugitive wild, And then by his breast a maiden smil'd. "Thee often I've met on life's journey," he said, "And when like a meteor thou past me hast sped, I've seen thee look backward--and threaten.
"O! kiss me, sweet maiden, ere on thou dost stray, I've seen thee with flowers strew the wanderer's way. They lived in their brightness, When thou in this lightness, Had'st fled farthest off; and sometimes they became A Bauta-stone over the worm-wasted frame.
"Vouchsafe me a smile," said the youth, "I entreat, I know thy course lightning-fleet. Thy light pinions ever Thou pliest, sweet giver Of palms, verdant palms, to the stripling so clever, Who caught thee, though lightning fleet."
Again to his eye a fair vision was given, A being angelical stood in the heaven. In morn's fresh rose-hues drest Stood the spirit blest. As shines from above The starlet of love So kindled his glance toward earth's gentle child. As the maid to her beckons the youth she loves dearly, When vespers are chiming and Luna shines clearly, So toward him beckoned the Angel, and smil'd.
With rapture the songster took thither his way, Where the winged one of heaven stood beauteous and gay. But, just as he hoped that the height was surmounted, Far distant again they each other confronted. And still the Angel beckoned there, But--never, never near. "My seraph! wilt ever avoid my embrace?" --Said the songster with mortified mien-- "But though I'm unable to climb to thy place, My eye thou hast blest from the mansions of grace, And thy heaven, thou distant, I've seen."
His slumber departed, his visions they fled, But oft when he harped they came into his head. "Blest, trebly blest, may our life be regarded, Far unto me hear threefold life is awarded.
"See the roselet departed, A smile from its tomb has darted. And the rose, which yet lives in blushes and bloom, Breathes o'er me perfume. Yes, from its concealment, the unborn rose Before me seems to unclose."
KING OLUF THE SAINT
King Oluf and his brother bold, 'Bout Norroway's rocks a parley hold.
"The one of us two who best can sail, Shall rule o'er Norroway's hill and dale.
"Who first of us reaches our native ground, O'er all the region shall King be crown'd."
Then Harald Haardrode answer made: "Aye, let it be even as thou hast said.
"But if I to-day must sail with thee, Thou shalt change vessels, I swear, with me.
"For thou hast got the Dragon of speed, I shall make with the Ox a poor figure indeed.
"The dragon is swift as the clouds in chase, The ox he moveth at lazy pace."
"Hear, Harald, what I shall say to thee, What thou hast proposed well pleaseth me.
"If my ship in aught be better than thine, I'm readily, cheerfully lend thee mine.
"Do thou the Dragon so sprightly take, And I with the Ox will the journey make.
"But first to the Church we'll bend our way, Ere our hand on sail or on oar we lay."
And into the Church Saint Oluf trode, His beautiful hair like the bright gold glow'd.
But soon out of breath there came a man: "Thy brother is sailing off, fast as he can."
"Let them sail, my friend, who to sail may choose, The word of our Lord we will not lose,
"The Mass is the word of our blessed Lord. Take water, ye swains, for our table board.
"We will sit at board, and the bread we will taste, Then unto the sea-shore will we haste."
Now down they all sped to the ocean strand, Where the Ox lay rocking before the land.
And speedily they to the ocean bore The anchor, and cable, the sail and oar.
Saint Oluf he stood on the prow when on board: "Now forward, thou Ox, in the name of the Lord!"
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