{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_26793/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_26793","id":"gutenberg_26793","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/26793","summary":null,"tags":["Ballads","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Poetry","English poetry"],"text":"Transcribed from the 1914 Thomas J. Wise pamphlet by David Price, email\nccx074@pglaf.org\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE EXPEDITION TO\nBIRTING\u2019S LAND\nAND OTHER BALLADS\n\n\n                                    BY\n                              GEORGE BORROW\n\n                                 LONDON:\n                     PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION\n\n                                   1914\n\n               _Copyright in the United States of America_\n           _by Houghton_, _Mifflin & Co. for Clement Shorter_.\n\n\n\n\nTHE EXPEDITION TO BIRTING\u2019S LAND\n\n\nThe King he o\u2019er the castle rules,\n   He rules o\u2019er all the land;\nO\u2019er many a hardy hero too,\n   With naked sword in hand.\n\nLet the courtier govern his steed,\n   The boor his thatch\u00e8d cot,\nBut Denmark\u2019s King o\u2019er castles rules,\n   For nobler is his lot.\n\nKing Diderik sits on Brattingsborg,\n   And round he looks with pride:\n\u201cNo one I know of in the world\n   Would me in fight abide.\u201d\n\nThen answered Brand Sir Viferlin,\n   Had been in many a land:\n\u201cMethinks I know a warrior stout\n   Would thee in fight withstand.\n\n\u201cHe\u2019s Ifald call\u2019d, a king is he,\n   In Birting\u2019s land afar;\nAnd he has fellows following him\n   With savage wolves who war.\n\n\u201cO he has fellows following him\n   \u2019Gainst teeth of bears who fight;\nThe food in which he most delights\n   Is flesh of Christian wight.\n\n\u201cEvery day in the East that dawns\n   His mouth he\u2019s wont to cool\nWith serpents, toads, and other filth,\n   That come from the hellish pool.\u201d\n\nAs Ifald sat on his throne that day\n   He thus was heard to cry:\n\u201cLet some one bid my little foot page\n   To come to me instantly.\n\n\u201cNow list to me, thou little foot page,\n   On my errand thee I\u2019ll send\nUnto the King of Brattingsborg,\n   To whom I am no friend.\n\n\u201cTell him that he must tribute pay,\n   Or for bloody war prepare;\nForsooth if him in the field I meet\n   I him will little spare.\u201d\n\nThen answered straight the little foot page\n   And a gallant answer he gave:\n\u201cMy Lord thy message I\u2019ll carry forth,\n   Though they lay me in my grave.\u201d\n\nIn came he, the little foot page,\n   And stood before the board:\n\u201cNow list to me, King Diderik,\n   My master has sent you word.\n\n\u201cEither tribute thou shalt pay,\n   As thou didst last year agree,\nOr thou shalt meet us in the field,\n   And bloodshed there shall be.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will not tribute pay, forsooth,\n   I scorn to stoop so low;\nNay, rather unto Birting\u2019s land\n   With sword unsheathed I go.\u201d\n\nThen answer\u2019d Vitting Helfredson,\n   And loud he laughed with glee:\n\u201cIf ye fare this year into Birting\u2019s land\n   I too of the troop shall be.\n\n\u201cLast year wast thou in Birting\u2019s land,\n   And there didst lose thy steed;\nThou hadst better stay in Brattingsborg\n   Than again seek Birting\u2019s mead.\u201d\n\n\u201cOn me, if I stay in Brattingsborg,\n   Be every malison;\nIf I have no horse on which to ride\n   I have legs on which to run.\u201d\n\nThere rode out from Brattingsborg\n   So many a knight renown\u2019d;\nThe rocks were split \u2019neath the coursers\u2019 feet,\n   And quaked the startled ground.\n\nThere rode forth King Diderik,\n   The lion upon his shield;\nAnd there too glittered the golden crown\n   So far across the field.\n\nThere rode Vidrik Verlandson,\n   The hammer and tongs he bore;\nAnd there rode good King Esmer\u2019s sons,\n   All men of wondrous power.\n\nThere rode the rich Count Rodengard,\n   A warrior stout and fine;\nAnd there rode King Sir Sigfred, who\n   Displayed a monarch\u2019s sign.\n\nThen followed Siward Snarenswayne,\n   With many arrows white;\nAnd then came Brand Sir Viferlin,\n   Who never fled from fight.\n\nAnd next rode Hero Hogen,\n   He looked a rose so brave;\nAnd then rode Folker Spillemand,\n   In his hand a naked glaive.\n\nThen rode the bold young Ulf Van Yern,\n   A glorious horse upon;\nBehind him young Sir Humble rode,\n   And then Sir Sigfredson.\n\nAnd then rode Gunther and Gernot,\n   With arrow on bended bow;\nAnd there rode Sonne Tolkerson,\n   With courage upon his brow.\n\nThere rode the little Grimmer,\n   In golden acton dight;\nAnd there rode Seyer the active,\n   Who yields to none in might.\n\nAnd then came master Hildebrand,\n   As though to his courser fixt;\nThe stalwart friar Alsing rode\n   The ancient hero next.\n\nThere rode Orm the Ungarswayne,\n   So bold of heart was he;\nSo joyous were they every one,\n   And sure of victory.\n\nOut galloped they all from Brattingsborg,\n   As fast as they could speed;\nBut Vitting bold came running behind,\n   Because he had no steed.\n\nIt was hardy Angelfyr,\n   To Grimselin he cried:\n\u201cO, he must on his bare legs run\n   Who has no horse to ride!\u201d\n\nAnd still ran Vitting, and still ran he,\n   Till with wrath he nigh was wode;\nThen he struck a warrior from his horse\n   And sat himself on, and rode.\n\nIt was Sir King Diderik,\n   He back a glance did throw:\n\u201cO yonder I see the courtier ride\n   Who on foot was wont to go.\n\n\u201cHere thou, Vitting Helfredson,\n   Thou art a warrior bold;\nThou shalt hie forward to Birting\u2019s land,\n   And demand the tribute gold.\n\n\u201cWith thee shall Vidrik Verlandson,\n   And Diderik knight of Bern;\nOf all my troop they are best at blows,\n   And most for battle yearn.\u201d\n\nThey set themselves upon their steeds,\n   And away they rode like wind;\nThe knights they roared, and their steeds they gored,\n   For wroth were they in mind.\n\nThe watchman stood on the battlement\n   From whence he far could see:\n\u201cYonder I warriors three espy\n   Who wrathful seem to be.\n\n\u201cThe one is Vitting Helfredson\n   Who lost his steed last year;\nThat a rugged guest he\u2019ll prove to us\n   We have full cause to fear.\n\n\u201cThe second is Vidrik Verlandson,\n   As the tongs and hammer shew;\nThe third is Diderik Van Bern,\n   All warriors good, I trow.\u201d\n\nThey left their steeds in the castle yard,\n   To the castle strode they in;\nThen might each man by their faces see\n   A fray would soon begin.\n\nUpon the porter they laid their hands,\n   And him to pieces hew\u2019d;\nThen in they strode to the high, high hall,\n   And before the King they stood.\n\nThen up rose Ifald the King in rage,\n   And thus the King did cry:\n\u201cO, whence are come the ill-starr\u2019d loons\n   Before my board I spy?\u201d\n\nThen answered the skinker of the King,\n   Who skink\u00e8d wine and mead:\n\u201cOur sharp spears, if we ply them well,\n   Will drive them out with speed.\u201d\n\nIt was Vitting Helfredson,\n   By the beard the skinker has ta\u2019en;\nHe smote him a blow the ear below,\n   Which dashed out half his brain.\n\nHe flung the dead corse on the board,\n   And a merry jest had he:\n\u201cWho\u2019ll taste,\u201d said Vitting Helfredson,\n   \u201cThis precious roast for me?\u201d\n\nThen forth stepped Diderik Van Bern,\n   And, brandishing his glaive,\nHe hewed upon King Ifald\u2019s head,\n   And him to the navel clave.\n\nAnd forth stepped Vidrik Verlandson,\n   And round began to hew;\nHeads and arms were smitten off\n   As round and round he flew.\n\nIn came King Ifald\u2019s mother grey,\n   With an eldritch scream she came;\nI tell to ye in verity\n   There ensued a wondrous game.\n\nVitting struck her with his sword,\n   A very fearful stroke;\nBut she kissed asunder the good sword,\n   Into pieces three it broke.\n\nWith a single kiss of the witch\u2019s mouth\n   Was shivered the trusty sword;\nVitting the hag by the weazand seized,\n   Without a single word.\n\nThe beldame changed herself to a crane,\n   And flew to the clouds on high;\nBut Vitting donned a feather robe,\n   And pursued her through the sky.\n\nThey flew for a day, they flew for three,\n   Bold Vitting and the crane;\nThen Vitting seized the crane by the legs,\n   And her body rent in twain.\n\nHomeward now, with sword in hand,\n   The valiant comrades wended:\nAll the Birting kemps are dead,\n   And the adventure ended.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SINGING MARINER\n_A Ballad from the Spanish_\n\n\nWho will ever have again,\nOn the land or on the main,\nSuch a chance as happen\u2019d to\nCount Arnaldos long ago.\n\nWith his falcon in his hand,\nForth he went along the strand;\nThere he saw a galley gay,\nBriskly bearing for the bay.\n\nAsk me not her name and trade,\u2014\nAll the sails of silk were made;\nHe who steer\u2019d the ship along\nRaised his voice, and sang a song.\n\nSang a song whose magic force\nCalm\u2019d the breaker in its course;\nWhile the fishes, sore amazed,\nLeft their holes and upward gazed.\n\nAnd the fowl came flocking fast,\nRound the summit of the mast;\nStill he sang to wind and wave:\n\u201cGod preserve my vessel brave!\n\n\u201cGuard her from the rocks that grow\n\u2019Mid the sullen deep below;\nFrom the gust, and from the breeze,\nSweeping through Gibtarek\u2019s seas.\n\n\u201cFrom the gulf of Venice too,\nWith its shoals and waters blue;\nWhere the mermaid chants her hymn,\nBorne upon the billow\u2019s brim.\u201d\n\nForward stept Arnaldos bold,\nThus he spake, as I am told:\n\u201cTeach me, sailor, I entreat,\nYonder song that sounds so sweet.\u201d\n\nBut the sailor shook his head,\nShook it thrice, and briefly said:\n\u201cNever will I teach the strain\nBut to him who ploughs the main.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nYOUTH\u2019S SONG IN SPRING\n\n\nO, scarcely is Spring a time of pure bliss,\n   He is wrong who full trust thereon layeth;\nFrom many it may\nTake sorrow away,\n   But to many it trouble conveyeth.\n\nO, when every thing is as joyous in Spring,\n   As in heaven, that never is dreary;\n\u2019Tis a grievous case\nIf one mournful must pace,\n   And cannot be also merry!\n\n\n\n\nTHE NIGHTINGALE\n_Translated from the Danish_\n\n\nIn midnight\u2019s calm hour the Nightingale sings\n   Of freedom, of love, and delight;\nCome, haste to the grove where melody rings,\n   \u2019Tis Philomel\u2019s notes that invite.\nA fowler attentively follows her there,\nResolv\u2019d for his victim to spread out a snare:\n_Think_, _girls_, _of the Nightingale\u2019s fate_, _and beware_!\n\nIn ambush his nets he carefully brings,\n   Glad innocence feels no alarm;\nUnguarded her flight\u2014\u2019midst danger she wings\u2014\n   And falls into sorrowful harm.\nAlas! she is silent, and full of despair,\nHe glides away quick with his treasure so rare:\n_Think_, _girls_, _of the Nightingale\u2019s fate_, _and beware_!\n\nA beautiful cage adorns his fair prize,\n   In hope that for him she will sing;\nBut Freedom, that wafted her notes to the skies,\n   Bore Gladness away on its wing.\nThus you, Philomela, resemble the fair,\nAnd we, we delight in the love that we share:\n_O_, _think of the Nightingale\u2019s fate_, _and beware_!\n\n\n\n\nLINES\n\n\nSay from what mine took Love the yellow gold\n   To form those tresses? from what thorn-bush tore\n   Those roses sleek? and from what summit bore\nThat stainless snow which seems no longer cold?\n\n\n\n\nMORNING SONG\n_Nu rinder Solen op_\n\n\nFrom Eastern quarters now\n   The sun\u2019s up-wandering,\nHis rays on the rock\u2019s brow\n   And hill\u2019s side squandering.\nBe glad, my soul! and sing amidst thy pleasure,\n   Fly from the house of dust,\n   Up with thy thanks, and trust\nTo heaven\u2019s azure!\n\nO, countless as the grains\n   Of sand so tiny,\nMeasureless as the main\u2019s\n   Deep waters briny,\nGod\u2019s mercy is, which He upon me showereth.\n   Each morning in my shell,\n   A grace immeasurable\nTo me down-poureth.\n\nThou best dost understand,\n   Lord God! my needing;\nAnd placed is in Thy hand\n   My fortune\u2019s speeding,\nAnd Thou foresee\u2019st what is for me most fitting.\n   Be still, then, O my soul!\n   To manage in the whole\nThy God permitting.\n\nMay fruit the land array,\n   And corn for eating!\nMay truth e\u2019er make its way,\n   With justice meeting!\nGive thou to me my share with every other,\n   \u2019Till down my staff I lay,\n   And from this world away\nWend to another!\n\n\n\n\nFROM THE FRENCH\n\n\nThis world by fools is occupied,\n   And whom the sight of a fool displeases,\nWithin his chamber himself should hide,\n   And break his looking-glass to pieces.\n\n\n\n\nTHE MORNING WALK\n\n\nTo the beech grove with so sweet an air\n   It beckon\u2019d me.\nO, Earth! that never the cruel plough-share\n   Had furrow\u2019d thee!\nIn their dark shelter the flowerets grew,\n   Bright to the eye,\nAnd smil\u2019d by my foot on the cloudlets blue,\n   Which deck\u2019d the sky.\n\nTo the wood through a field I took my way;\n   There I could see\nOn the field an uppil\u2019d stone-heap lay,\n   \u2019Twixt hillocks three;\nSo anciently grayly white it stood,\n   An oblong ring:\nHere doubtless was held in the old time good\n   A royal Ting.\n\nThe royal stone, which there doth stand,\n   The Stol-king press\u2019d,\nWith crown on head, and sceptre in hand,\n   In sables drest.\nAnd every warrior solemnly pac\u2019d\n   Peaceful in thought,\nAnd down on his stone himself calmly plac\u2019d\u2014\n   No sword he brought.\n\nThe king\u2019s house stood on yonder height,\n   With walls of power;\nOn yon had his daughter, the damsel bright,\n   Her maiden bower.\nUpon the third the temple stood,\n   Through the North famed wide,\nWhere to Thor was offered the he-goat\u2019s blood,\n   In reeking tide.\n\nO, lovely field! and forest fair,\n   And meads grass-clad;\nHer bride-bed Freya every where\n   Enamelled had.\nThe corn-flowers rose in azure band\n   From earthly cell;\nNought else could I do but stop and stand,\n   And greet them well.\n\nWelcome on earth\u2019s green breast again,\n   Ye flowerets dear!\nIn spring how charming \u2019mid the grain\n   Your heads ye rear.\nLike stars \u2019midst lightning\u2019s yellow ray\n   Ye shine red, blue:\nO, how your summer aspect gay\n   Delights my view.\n\nO poet! poet! silence keep,\n   God help thy case:\nOur owner holds us sadly cheap,\n   And scorns our race.\nEach time he sees, he calls us scum,\n   Or worthless tares;\nHell-weeds that but to vex him come\n   \u2019Midst his corn-ears.\n\nThe greatest grace done for our sake\n   In all his life,\nIs from his pocket deep to take\n   His huge clasp knife;\nAnd heavy handful then to cut,\n   \u2019Midst grumbling much\u2014\nUs with tobacco leaves to put\n   In seal-skin pouch.\n\nHe says, he says, that smoked this way,\n   We dross of the field,\nTo the world by chance, by poor chance, may\n   Some benefit yield;\nBut as for our beauty, our blue and red hues,\n   \u2019Tis folly indeed\u2014\nThe mouth is his only test of use,\n   And that\u2019s his creed.\n\nO wretched mortals!\u2014O wretched man!\n   O wretched crowd!\u2014\nNo pleasures ye pluck\u2014no pleasures ye plan\n   In life\u2019s lone road:\u2014\nWhose eyes are blind to the glories great\n   Of the works of God;\nAnd dream that the mouth is the nearest gate\n   To joy\u2019s abode.\n\nCome flowers! for we to each other belong,\n   Come graceful elf,\nAnd around my lute in sympathy strong\n   Now wind thyself;\nAnd quake as if mov\u2019d by zephyr\u2019s wing,\n   \u2019Neath the clang of the chord,\nAnd a morning song with glee we\u2019ll sing\n   To our Maker and Lord!\n\n                                * * * * *\n\n                                 LONDON:\n\n               Printed for THOMAS J. WISE, Hampstead, N.W.\n\n                   _Edition limited to Thirty Copies_.","title":"The Expedition to Birting's Land, and Other Ballads","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":2442}