{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_26832/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_26832","id":"gutenberg_26832","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/26832","summary":null,"tags":["Ballads","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Poetry","English poetry"],"text":"Transcribed from the 1913 Thomas J. Wise pamphlet by David Price, email\nccx074@pglaf.org\n\n\n\n\n\n                               MARSK STIG\u2019S\n                                DAUGHTERS\n                                AND OTHER\n                            SONGS AND BALLADS\n\n\n                                    BY\n                              GEORGE BORROW\n\n                                 LONDON:\n                     PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION\n\n                                   1913\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n                                                                      PAGE\n\nMarsk Stig\u2019s Daughters                                                   7\n\nThe Three Expectants                                                    11\n\nTranslation: \u201c_One Summer morn_, _as I was seeking_\u201d                    13\n\nThe English Gipsy                                                       14\n\nGipsy Song                                                              16\n\nThe Heart is heavy, Brother                                             17\n\nSong: \u201c_Nastrond\u2019s blazes_\u201d                                             19\n\nLines: \u201c_To read the great mysterious Past_\u201d                            21\n\nMARSK STIG\u2019S DAUGHTERS\n\n\nTwo daughters fair the Marshal had,\nO grievous was their fate and sad.\n\nThe eldest she took her sister\u2019s hand\nAnd away they went to Sweden\u2019s land.\n\nHome from the Stevn King Byrgye rode;\nUp to him Marsk Stig\u2019s daughters trode.\n\n\u201cWhat women ye who beset my gate?\nWhat brings ye hither at eve so late?\u201d\n\n\u201cDaughters of Stig, the Marshal brave,\nSo earnestly thee for help we crave.\u201d\n\n\u201cHence, hence away, ye outcasts two,\nYour sire accurst my uncle slew.\u201d\n\n\u201cGuiltless are we of Erik\u2019s blood,\nSo wide we wander in quest of food.\u201d\n\nThe eldest she takes her sister\u2019s hand,\nAnd away they went into Norway\u2019s land.\n\nHome from the Ting King Erik rode\nUp to him Marsk Stig\u2019s daughters trode.\n\n\u201cWhat women are ye whom here I view,\nAnd what may ye in my country do?\u201d\n\n\u201cDaughters of Stig, the Marshal brave\nSo earnestly thee for help we crave.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo brew and bake full well ye know\u201d\u2014\n\u201cAlas, Sir King, not so, not so.\n\n\u201cTo brew and bake we do not know,\nWe never stoop\u2019d to employ so low.\n\n\u201cTo spin red gold that is our pride,\nOur mother taught us ere she died.\n\n\u201cAnd we can weave galloon as well\nAs the maidens with the Queen that dwell.\n\n\u201cWe can weave red gold with wool,\nBut oh, our hearts with grief are full.\n\n\u201cHad Marsk Stig stay\u2019d in Denmark green,\nDifferent far our fate had been.\n\n\u201cHad Ingeborg not chanc\u2019d to die,\nWe had not borne this misery.\u201d\n\nKing Erik replied in gentle tone:\n\u201cI knew your father like my own;\n\n\u201cHe was a man in heart and hand,\nWhose like lives not in any land.\u201d\n\nO\u2019er them he threw his mantle red,\nTo the ladies\u2019 chamber them he led.\n\nHe bade them no more tears to shed,\nFor he would stand in their father\u2019s stead.\n\nThe eldest sister began the weft,\nThe youngest finished what she left.\n\nIn the first lace she wove so true\nThe Virgin Mary and Christ Jesu.\n\nAnd in the second of Norway land\nShe wove the Queen and her maiden band.\n\nOf the antler\u2019d hart they wove the chase,\nThey wove themselves with pallid face.\n\nThey wove with nimble fingers small\nOf God the holy Angels all.\n\nThe youngest sister the woof up caught,\nAnd that before the Queen she brought.\n\nThen into her eyes the tears they came,\n\u201cThou art not our Mother, Queenly Dame.\n\n\u201cWert thou our mother or sister dear,\nWith praises thou our hearts wouldst cheer.\n\n\u201cBut in thine eye no praise I see,\nMisfortune is our destiny.\u201d\n\nThe eldest sicken\u2019d, and sick she lay,\nThe youngest tended her night and day.\n\nThe eldest died of grief of heart,\nThe youngest liv\u2019d with sorrow and smart.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THREE EXPECTANTS\n\n\nThere are three for my death that now pine,\n   Though one and all wondrous civil;\nWould that all of them hung on a line,\n   My children, the worms, and the Devil.\n\nMy body, my soul, and my gear,\n   When down to the grave I descend,\nThe three hope among them to share,\n   And to revel on time without end.\n\nBut there is not one of the three,\n   To the others though kindly affected,\nFor both of their shares would agree\n   To resign his own portion expected.\n\nThe Devil, so harsh and austere,\n   Who only in evil hath joy,\nWould scorn to take body and gear\n   For my soul, that sweet beautiful toy.\n\nMy children would rather possess\n   The gear I have toil\u2019d so to gather,\nThough for me fervent love they profess,\n   Than the body and soul of their father.\n\nThe worms, though my children will make\n   A lament when I\u2019m laid in the hole,\nWould my body in preference take\n   To my gear or my beautiful soul.\n\nOh, Christ! who wast hung on a tree,\n   And wast pierc\u2019d by a fool in his madness;\nSince each of them plund\u2019ring would be,\n   Send each disappointment and sadness.\n\n\n\n\nTRANSLATION\n\n\nOne summer morn, as I was seeking\n   My ponies in their green retreat,\nI heard a lady sing a ditty\n   To me which sounded strangely sweet.\n\n_I am the ladye_, _I am the ladye_,\n   _I am the ladye loving the knight_;\n_I in the green wood \u2019neath the green branches_\n   _In the night season sleep with the knight_.\n\nSince yonder summer morn of beauty\n   I\u2019ve seen many a gloomy year;\nBut in my mind still lives the ditty\n   That in the green wood met my ear.\n\n_I am the ladye_, _I am the ladye_,\n   _I am the ladye loving the knight_;\n_I in the green wood \u2019neath the green branches_\n   _In the night season sleep with the knight_.\n\n\n\n\nTHE ENGLISH GIPSY\n\n\n                                   _He_\n\nAs I to the town was going one day\nMy Roman lass I met by the way.\nSaid I, \u201cYoung maid, will you share my lot?\u201d\nSaid she, \u201cAnother wife you\u2019ve got.\u201d\n\u201cAh, no!\u201d to my Roman lass I cried,\n\u201cNo wife have I in the world so wide;\nAnd you my wedded wife shall be,\nIf you will consent to come with me.\u201d\n\n                                  _She_\n\nAs I to the town was going one day\nI met a young Roman upon the way.\nSaid he, \u201cYoung maid will you share my lot?\u201d\nSaid I, \u201cAnother wife you\u2019ve got.\u201d\n\u201cNo, no!\u201d the handsome young Roman cried.\n\u201cNo wife have I in the world so wide;\nAnd you my wedded wife shall be,\nIf you will share my lot with me.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nGIPSY SONG\n\n\nUp, up, brothers,\n   Cease your revels!\nThe Gentile\u2019s coming\u2014\n   Run like devils.\n\nI do not like your way of life\n   Ye men of Christian creed;\nI\u2019d rather live the kind of life\n   Which forest foxes lead.\n\n\n\n\nOUR HEART IS HEAVY, BROTHER\n\n\nThe strength of the ox,\nThe wit of the fox,\n   And the leveret\u2019s speed;\nAll, all to oppose\nTheir numerous foes\n   The Romany need.\n\nOur horses they take,\nOur wagons they break,\n   And us they seize\nIn their prisons to coop,\nWhere we pine and droop\n   For want of breeze.\n\nWhen the dead swallow\nThe fly shall follow\n   Across the sea,\nWe\u2019ll then forget\nThe wrongs we have met,\n   And forgiving be\u2014\n      _Brother_, _of that be certain_.\n\n\n\n\nSONG\n\n\nNastrond\u2019s blazes,\n   How fierce ye roar!\nThe deepmost deeps feel\n   Valhal\u2019s power.\n\nSulphurous blazes,\n   Which with dismay\nStrike e\u2019en the Aser,\n   Our voice obey!\n\n_Poisonous blazes_,\n   _Harden a spear_\n      _For Valhal\u2019s may_!\n\n_Poisonous blazes_.\n   _Harden a spear_\n      _For Valhal\u2019s may_!\n\n_Poisonous blazes_,\n   _Harden a spear_\n      _For Valhal\u2019s may_!\n\nIn juice of rue\nAnd trefoil too,\n   In marrow of bear\n      And blood of trold,\n   Be cool\u2019d the spear,\n      Three times cool\u2019d,\nWhen hot from fire\nOf Nastrond dire,\n   For Valhal\u2019s may.\n\n_Whom it woundeth_\n   _It shall slay_.\n\n_Whom it woundeth_\n   _It shall slay_.\n\n_Whom it woundeth_\n   _It shall slay_.\n\n\n\n\nLINES\n\n\nTo read the great mysterious Past\n   They are yearning;\nBut to mist the writings old fast, fast\n   Are turning.\n\nO, how inviting\n   The deeds of yore!\nBut the ancient writing\n   Mist sweeps o\u2019er.\n\n                                * * * * *\n\n                                 LONDON:\n               Printed for THOMAS J. WISE, Hampstead, N.W.\n\n                   _Edition limited to Thirty Copies_.","title":"Marsk Stig's Daughters, and Other Songs and Ballads","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":1259}