{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_26834/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_26834","id":"gutenberg_26834","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/26834","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                             THE NIGHTINGALE\n                          THE VALKYRIE AND RAVEN\n                            AND OTHER BALLADS\n\n\n                                    BY\n                              GEORGE BORROW\n\n                                 LONDON:\n                     PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION\n\n                                   1913\n\n               _Copyright in the United States of America_\n          _by Houghton_, _Mifflin and Co. for Clement Shorter_.\n\n\n\n\nTHE NIGHTINGALE, OR THE TRANSFORMED DAMSEL\n\n\nI know where stands a Castellaye,\n   Its turrets are so fairly gilt;\nWith silver are its gates inlaid,\n   Its walls of marble stone are built.\n\nWithin it stands a linden tree,\n   With lovely leaves its boughs are hung,\nTherein doth dwell a nightingale,\n   And sweetly moves that bird its tongue.\n\nA gallant knight came riding by,\n   He heard its dulcet ditty ring;\nAnd sorely, sorely, wondered he\n   At midnight hour that it should sing.\n\n\"And hear, thou little Nightingale,\n   If thou to me wilt sing a lay,\nThy feathers I'll with gold bedeck,\n   Thy neck with costly pearls array.\"\n\n\"With golden feathers others lure,\n   Such gifts for me have value slight;\nI am a strange and lonely bird,\n   But little known to mortal wight.\"\n\n\"And thou, a strange wild bird thou be,\n   Whom other mortals little know;\nYet hunger pinches thee, and cold,\n   When falls the cruel winter snow.\"\n\n\"I laugh at hunger, laugh at snow,\n   Which falls so wide on hill and lea;\nBut I am vexed by secret care,\n   I know not either joy or glee.\n\n\"Betwixt the hills and valleys deep\n   Away the rapid rivers flow;\nBut ah! remembrance of true love\n   From out the mind will never go.\n\n\"O I had once a handsome love,\n   A famous knight of valour he;\nBut ah! my step-dame all o'erturn'd,\n   She vowed our marriage ne'er should be.\n\n\"She changed me to a Nightingale,\n   Bade me around the world to fly;\nMy Brother she changed to a wolf so gray,\n   Bade him into the forest hie.\n\n\"She told him, as the wood he sought,\n   That he should win his shape no more,\n'Till he had drunk her heart's blood out,\n   And that befell when years were o'er.\n\n\"It happened on a summer tide,\n   Amidst the wood she wandered gay,\nMy brother saw and watched her close,\n   From 'neath the bushes where he lay.\n\n\"He seized her quickly by the foot,\n   All with his laidly wolfish claw;\nTore out her heart, and drank her blood,\n   And thus released himself he saw.\n\n\"Yet I am still a little bird,\n   And o'er the verdant meads I fly;\nSo sorrowful I pass my life,\n   But mostly 'neath the winter's sky.\n\n\"But God be thanked, he me has waked,\n   And speech from him my tongue has won;\nFor fifteen years I have not spoke\n   As I with thee, Sir Knight, have done.\n\n\"But ever with a mournful voice,\n   Have sung the green wood bough upon;\nAnd had no better dwelling place\n   Than gloomy forests, sad and lone.\"\n\n\"Now hear, thou little Nightingale,\n   This simple thing would I propose,\nIn winter sit within my bower,\n   And hie thee forth when summer blows.\"\n\n\"O many thanks, thou handsome knight\n   Thy offer would I accept full fane;\nBut ah, my step-dame that forbade\n   Whilst still in feather I remain.\"\n\nThe Nightingale sat musing deep,\n   Unto the knight she paid no heed,\nUntil he seized her by the foot,\n   For God I ween had so decreed.\n\nHe carried her to his chamber in,\n   The doors and windows fast he made;\nThen changed she to the strangest beasts\n   That ever mortal eye survey'd.\n\nA lion now, and now a bear,\n   And now a coil of hissing snakes;\nAt last a Dragon she became,\n   And furious she the knight attacks.\n\nHe cut her with a little knife,\n   So that her blood did stain the floor;\nThen straight before his eye there stood\n   A Damsel bright as any flower.\n\n\"Now, Damsel fair, I've rescued thee\n   From thraldom drear and secret care;\nNow tell me of thy ancestry,\n   Thy parents and thy race declare.\"\n\n\"My father he was England's King,\n   My mother was his lovely Queen;\nMy brother once a grey wolf was,\n   And trotted o'er the wold so green.\"\n\n\"If England's King thy father was,\n   And thy dear mother England's Queen,\nThou art my sister's daughter then,\n   Who long a Nightingale has been.\"\n\nO there was joy throughout the land,\n   And all the court was filled with glee;\nThe Knight has caught the Nightingale,\n   That dwelt within the linden tree.\n\n\n\n\nTHE VALKYRIE AND RAVEN\n\n\nYe men wearing bracelets\n   Be mute whilst I sing\nOf Harald the hero--\n   High Norroway's king;\nI'll duly declare\n   A discourse which I heard,\nBetwixt a bright maiden\n   And black raven bird.\n\nThe Valkyrie's vext\n   No war-field to find;\nThe speech she knew well\n   Of the wild feather'd kind,\nAnd thus she bespake him\n   Who bears the brown bill,\nSo proud as he perch'd on\n   The peak of the hill.\n\n\"What do you here, ravens,\n   And whence come ye, say,\nYour heads turn'd direct to\n   The dying sun's ray?\nBits of flesh hold your claws--\n   There's blood flowing free\nFrom your beaks, surely nigh\n   Dead bodies there be.\"\n\nThen wiping his beak,\n   Bloody red, on the rock,\nThe eagle's sworn brother\n   Thus answer'd and spoke:\n\"Harald we've follow'd,\n   Of Halfdan the son,\nEver since from the egg\n   That we egress have won.\"\n\n\"Then ye know, bird, the king,\n   Whose keep is in Kvine,\nThe young king--the Norse king--\n   Whose keels cut the brine;\nRed-rimm'd are his bucklers,\n   Betarr'd are his oars--\nHis sails are all bleach'd\n   With the sea-spray and showers.\"\n\n\"Abroad will drink Yule,\n   The young king, and will try\nTo wake up, O maiden,\n   The wild game of Frey,\nOf the warmth of the hearth\n   He weary is grown;\nHe loathes the close chamber\n   And cushions of down.\n\n\"Heard ye not the hard fight\n   Near Hafirsfirth beach,\n'Twixt the king of high kindred\n   And Kotva the rich?\nSail'd ships from the East\n   Prepared for war stern;\nTheir dragon heads gaped,\n   Their gilded sides burn.\n\n\"They were fill'd with proud freemen\n   Well furnish'd with shields,\nAnd the very best weapons\n   The western land yields;\nGrimly the Baresarkers\n   Grinn'd, biting steel,--\nHowl'd the wolf-heathens\n   War madness they feel.\n\n\"They moved 'gainst the monarch\n   Whose might makes them pine,\n'Gainst the king--the Norse king--\n   Who keeps court at Utstein;\nFlinch'd the king's bark at first,\n   For they ply'd her right well--\nThere was hammering on helmets\n   Ere Haklangr fell.\n\n\"Left the land to the lad\n   With the locks long and full,\nRich Kotva, the lord,\n   Thick of neck, like the bull;\n'Neath the thwarts themselves threw,\n   They who'd wounds, in despair,\nTheir heads to the keel\n   And their heels to the air.\n\n\"On their shoulders their shields,\n   Such as Swafni's roof form,\nFlinging swift as a fence\n   From the fierce stony storm;\nThe yeomen affrighted\n   From Hafirsfirth speed,\nAnd arrived at their homes\n   They call hoarsely for mead.\n\n\"The slain strew the strand\n   To the very great joy\nOf ourselves and of Odin,\n   The chief of one eye.\"\n\n                               _Valkyrie_.\n\n\"Of his wars and his prowess\n   With wonder I've heard;\nNow speak of his wives\n   And his women, O bird!\"\n\n                                 _Raven_.\n\n\"He had damsels from Holmygg\n   And Hordaland, too;\nAnd damsels from Hedemark\n   Dainty of hue;\nBut he sent them with gifts\n   To their countries again,\nWhen he wedded Ranhilda\n   The beautiful Dane.\"\n\n                               _Valkyrie_.\n\n\"I warrant he's bounteous!\n   And well doth reward\nThe warriors and gallants\n   His kingdom who guard.\"\n\n                                 _Raven_.\n\n\"O, yes, he is bounteous!\n   And bravely they fare\nWho in Harald's dominions\n   Hew food for the bear;\nWith coin he presents them,\n   And keen polish'd glaives,\nWith mail from Hungaria\n   And Osterland slaves.\"\n\n\"O happy lives have they\n   Who help him in war,\nCan run to the mast-head\n   Or manage the oar;\nMake the row-locks to creak,\n   And the row-bench to crack,\nAnd in their lord's service\n   Are never found slack.\"\n\n                               _Valkyrie_.\n\n\"Of the Skalds now I'll ask thee,\n   The sons of the strain,\nBy whom deathless honor\n   He hopes to obtain;\nI doubt not, O Raven,\n   That thou knowest well\nThe workers of verse\n   Who at Harald's court dwell.\"\n\n                                 _Raven_.\n\n\"By their gallant array,\n   By the armlets they bear\nAll of gold, you may learn\n   To their lord they are dear;\nRuddy kirtles they have\n   That are laced at the skirts,\nSwords silver inlaid,\n   And steely mail shirts:\nAll gilded their hilts,\n   Their helmets all graven;\nGold rings on their hands.\"\n\n                               _Valkyrie_.\n\n   \"Now read me, O Raven,\nOf the Baresarkers--how\n   Do ye style them who wade\nIn blood ankle-deep\n   By no danger dismay'd?\"\n\n                                 _Raven_.\n\n\"Wolf-heathens they hight,\n   To the thick of the fray\nRuddy shields who do bear,\n   And with swords clear away;\nNone but those who know nought\n   Of terror can stand\nWhen stout and strong men\n   Shiver buckler with brand.\"\n\n                               _Valkyrie_.\n\n\"Of jesting and game\n   Our discourse shall be brief;\nWhat does Andadr do,\n   Harald's jester in chief?\"\n\n                                 _Raven_.\n\n\"Fun Andadr loves;\n   He makes faces and sneers,\nAnd the monarch doth laugh\n   At the loon without ears.\nThere are others who bear\n   Burning brands from the fire\nStick a torch 'neath their belt,\n   Yet ne'er singe their attire;\nSome that dance on their heels,\n   Or that tumble and spring--\nO 'tis gay in the hall\n   Of high Harald the king!\"\n\n\n\n\nERIK EMUN AND SIR PLOG\n\n\nEarly at morn the lark sang gay--\n   (_All underneath so green a hill_)\nSir Carl by his bed put on his array--\n   (_The Danish King will 'venge his fill_).\n\nHe drew on his shirt as white as milk,\nThen his doublet foisted with verdant silk.\n\nHis legs in his buckskin boots he placed,\nAnd around them his gilded spurs he braced.\n\nHis gilded spurs there around he braced,\nAnd away to the Ting he rode in haste.\n\nSir Carl he galloped along the way,\nSuch wondrous things he proved that day.\n\nSir Carl he galloped up to the Ting,\nThe crowd before him scattering.\n\nTo warriors nine the Dane-king cries:\n\"Bind ye Sir Carl before my eyes.\"\n\nUp then amain the nine warriors rise,\nThey bound Sir Carl 'fore their sovereign's eyes.\n\nAnd out from the town Sir Carl they convey'd,\nAnd upon a new wheel his body laid.\n\nTo Sir Plog then quickly a messenger came:\n\"The Dane-king has broken thy brother's frame.\"\n\nSir Plog he sprang o'er the wide, wide board,\nBut returned in answer no single word.\n\nIn his buckskin boots his shanks he cased\nAnd around his gilded spurs he braced.\n\nHis gilded spurs there around he tied,\nAnd away to the Ting the noble hied.\n\nAnd fast and furious was his course,\nSo leapt and bounded his gallant horse.\n\nUp, up to the Ting Sir Plog he goes,\nAnd up to receive him the Dane-king rose.\n\n\"If I had been earlier here to-day,\nThen things had turned out in a better way.\n\n\"My brother is wheeled though he did no wrong,\nThat deed, Dane-king, thou shalt rue ere long.\n\n\"If four hours sooner I had but come,\nMy brother, for certain, had followed me home.\n\n\"Deprived of his life doth my brother lie,\nDane-king, thou hast lost thine honour thereby.\"\n\nThe Dane-king so fitting an answer returned:\n\"Thy brother full richly his death had earned.\n\n\"When the great with sword can oppress the mean\nThe law is not worth a rotten bean.\"\n\n\"My brother, Sir King, was good and bold,\nI could have redeemed him with silver and gold.\"\n\n\"Thy silver and gold I hold at nought,\nThe law shall have the course it ought.\n\n\"And since thou so long on this matter doth prate,\nThou shalt suffer the very same fate.\"\n\nTo warriors nine the Dane-king cries:\n\"Bind ye Sir Plog before my eyes.\"\n\n\"If a truly brave man, Dane-king, thou be,\nDo thou thyself bind and fetter me.\"\n\nThe King off his hands the little gloves took,\nSir Plog his spear with vehemence shook.\n\nHe first slew four, then five he slew,\nAnd the Dane-king himself with his warriors true.\n\nWhen all the King's men he dead had laid,\nHis gallant brother he home convey'd.\n\nTo Ribe the royal corse they bear,\nWhere it rests 'neath a tomb of marble fair.\n\nBut Sir Plog he went to a foreign shore,\nNo word they heard of him evermore.\n\n\n\n\nTHE ELVES\n\n\n_Take heed_, _good people_, _of yourselves_;\n_And oh_! _beware ye of the elves_.\n\nOnce a peasant young and gay\nWas in his meadow cutting hay,\nThere came a lovely looking lass\nFrom out the neighbouring morass.\nThe lass he woo'd, her promise won,\nAnd soon the bridal day came on.\nBut when the pair had got to bed,\nThe bridegroom found, with fear and dread,\nThat he a rough oak stump embrac'd,\nInstead of woman's lovely waist.\nThen, to increase his fear and wonder,\nThere sang a voice his window under:\n\n\"Come out to her whom thou didst wed,\nUpon my mead the bed is spread.\"\nFrom that wild lay the peasant knew\nHe with a fay had had to do.\n\n_Take heed_, _good people_, _of yourselves_;\n_And oh_! _beware ye of the elves_.\n\n\n\n\nFERIDUN\n\n\nNo face of an Angel could Feridun claim,\nNor of musk nor of amber I ween was his frame;\nIn bright generosity beauteous was he,\nBe generous like him and as fair thou shalt be.\n\n\n\n\nEPIGRAMS\n\n\n1.\n\n\nA worthless thing is song, I trow,\nFrom out the heart which does not flow;\nBut song from out no heart will flow\nWhich does not feel of love the glow.\n\n\n\n2.\n\n\nThough pedants have essayed to hammer\nInto our heads the points of grammar;\nWe're oft obliged to set at nought\nThe different force of _should_ and _ought_;\nAnd oft are sorely puzzled whether\nWe should make use of _both_ or _either_.\n\n\n\n3.\n\n\nWhen of yourself you have cause to speak\nAlways make yourself broad and tall;\nEnvy attacks you if you are great,\nBut thorough contempt attends the small.\n\n                                * * * * *\n\n                                 LONDON:\n               Printed for THOMAS J. WISE, Hampstead, N.W.\n\n                   _Edition limited to Thirty Copies_.","title":"The Nightingale, the Valkyrie and Raven, and Other Ballads","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":2329}