{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_27474/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_27474","id":"gutenberg_27474","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/27474","summary":null,"tags":["Ballads","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Poetry","Poetry"],"text":"Transcribed from the 1913 Thomas J. Wise pamphlet by David Price, email\nccx074@pglaf.org.  Many thanks to Norfolk and Norwich Millennium Library,\nUK, for kindly supplying the images from which this transcription was\nmade.\n\n             [Picture: Manuscript of The Bard and the Dreams]\n\n\n\n\n\n                              QUEEN BERNGERD\n                         THE BARD AND THE DREAMS\n                                   AND\n                              OTHER BALLADS\n\n\n                                    BY\n                              GEORGE BORROW\n\n                                 LONDON:\n                     PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION\n                                   1913\n\n               _Copyright in the United States of America_\n           _by Houghton_, _Mifflin & Co. for Clement Shorter_.\n\n\n\n\nQUEEN BERNGERD\n\n\nLong ere the Sun the heaven arrayed,\nFor her morning gift her Lord she prayed:\n\"Give me Samsoe to have and to hold,\nAnd from every maiden a crown of gold.\"\n   _Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.\n\nThe King he answered Berngerd thus:\n\"Madam, crave something less of us,\nFor many a maid lives 'neath our sway\nTo 'scape from death could the like not pay.\"\n   _Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.\n\n\"My gentle Lord, then hear my prayer,\nSuffer not ladies the scarlet to wear;\nAnd, Sir, you must grant me this boon beside,\nLet no boor's son a good courser ride.\"\n   _Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.\n\n\"What ladies can buy to wear they are free,\nAnd hindrance none they shall meet from me;\nIf the son of a Boor can a horse support,\n'Fore God, I'll never destroy his sport!\"\n   _Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.\n\n\"My Lord, we'll that matter let drop to the ground;\nWith chains of steel let the land be bound,\nSo that man or woman thereout or therein\nWithouten toll cannot hope to win.\"\n   _Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.\n\n\"How should we so much steel obtain,\nAs to bind therewith the land and main?\nO Madam! some mercy and kindness shew,\nOr expect the curse of the people now.\"\n   _Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.\n\n\"To Ribe, to winter there, we'll depart,\nThere smiths we shall find well skilled in their art;\nBoth locks and keys will we have made,\nAnd toeen and iron palisade.\"\n   _Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.\n\n\"Faggot and coal shall the boor give free,\nThe smith shall work without thanks or fee.\nMy Lord, be persuaded, I rede ye do,\nMuch benefit thence shall to thee accrue.\"\n   _Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.\n\n\"My father was King in the land before me,\nAnd a King for his father also had he;\nThe Kings of the Danes to live contrive\nWithout Boor and Burger skinning alive.\"\n   _Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.\n\n\"Sir, what would a peasant more\nThan a latticed window and wicker door?\nWhat shall a peasant keep in his stall\nSave one draught ox and a cow withall?\n   _Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.\n\n\"Each peasant's wife of a son made light\nShall give me an ounce of gold so bright;\nBut if to a daughter birth she give,\nOnly the half I'm content to receive.\"\n   _Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.\n\nThe King he turned on his other side,\nHe'd heard enough to suffice for that tide.\nAs soon as sleep his brow came o'er,\nDagmar he thought stood his face before.\n   _Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.\n\n\"The bitter flower, Sir King, you hold,\nBrings you trouble, as I foretold.\nBe sure if this year you seek the fray,\nYou suffer not Berngerd at home to stay.\n   _Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.\n\n\"If she with her flatteries blind your eyes,\nThe child will weep in the cradle that lies.\nTake her with you, I rede and beseech,\nHow that will boot you time will teach.\"\n   _Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.\n\nThe King has proclaimed through the whole country,\nTo the war with him each tenth man should hie.\n\"My dearest Lady, worthy thou art\nIn the field of honour to bear a part.\"\n   _Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.\n\nThe first shaft shot on the battle day\nTo the heart of Berngerd found its way;\nNo soul was seen with a tearful eye--\nWho for Berngerd would sorrow or sigh?\n   _Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.\n\nNow lies Berngerd in the cold black ground,\nOxen are still in the Boor's stall found.\nBerngerd she lies 'neath the dingy sward,\nThe Danes their Monarch love and regard.\n   _Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.\n\nNow Berngerd lies in eternal pains,\nThe boor his horse and cow retains.\nA name she left of such evil savour,\nSo little the poor man did she favour.\n   _Woe befall her_,_ Berngerd_.\n\n'Tis better to live in humble state,\nThan rich with a poor man's curse and hate;\nAfter virtue better to ceaseless strain\nThan the wealth of the world with scorn obtain.\n   _Woe befall her_, _Berngerd_.\n\n\n\n\nDAME MARTHA'S FOUNTAIN\n\n\nDame Martha dwelt at Karisegaard,\n   So many kind deeds she wrought:\nIf the winter were sharp and the rich man hard,\n   Her gate the indigent sought.\n\nWith her hand the hungry she loved to feed,\n   To the sick she lent her aid;\nThe prisoner oft from his chains she freed,\n   And for souls of sinners pray'd.\n\nDenmark's land was in peril dire,\n   The Swede around burnt and slew;\nThe castle of Martha was wrapped in fire,\n   To the church the good lady flew.\n\nShe dwelt in the tower both night and day,\n   There unto her none repaired;\n'Neath the church roof sat the dull owl gray,\n   And at the good lady stared.\n\nIn the house of the Lord she dwelt safe and content\n   'Till the foes their departure had ta'en;\nThen back to her ruined castle she went,\n   And bade it be builded again.\n\nThere found the houseless a cover once more,\n   And the mouths of the hungry bread;\nBut all in Karise-By {14} wept sore\n   When they knew Dame Martha dead.\n\nAnd when the Dame lay in her coffin and smil'd,\n   So calm with her pallid face,\nO there was never so little a child\n   But was brought on her to gaze.\n\nThe bell on the day of the burial toll'd,\n   And youth and age shed the tear;\nNo man was ever so weak or old\n   But helped to lift the bier.\n\nWhen they the bier set down for a space,\n   And rested upon the road,\nA fountain sprang forth in that very place,\n   To this hour has it flow'd.\n\nGod bless for ever the pious soul,\n   Her blessings no lips can tell;\nFor oft have the sick become sound and whole,\n   Who drank at Dame Martha's well!\n\nThe tower yet stands with gloomy nook,\n   Where Dame Martha sat of old;\nThe stranger comes thereon to look,\n   And to hear the story told.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BARD AND THE DREAMS\n\n\nO'er the sweet smelling meads with his lyre in his hand\n   The bard was straying;\nIn the twilight of evening, refreshing and bland,\n   His chords were playing.\nHe sang of the flowrets that slept in the tomb,\nHe sang of the flowrets that poured their perfume,\nHe sang of the flowrets that yet were to bloom.\n\nAnd the rose departed,\nA smile from its sepulchre darted;\nAnd the rose yet living with blushes of red\nBreathed sweets o'er his head.\nAnd the rose which unborn concealed yet lies,\nSeemed to open before his eyes.\n   By a fountain's side with verdure array'd\n   Himself he laid.\n\nAnd the murmur and hum of the pure water fleeting,\nAnd the strains, which the birds of the wood were repeating,\nAnd the innocent heart, which so peaceful was beating,\n   Shed health-giving slumbers,\n   On lids which no sorrow cumbers.\n\nIn the visions of sleep there came to his side\n   A sire with locks snow-hoary;\nAnd the songster sped with that sire for his guide\n   To an unknown territory.\n\nOn ruins majestic himself he found,\nThe mouldering bones of old heroes lay round;\n   Their ghosts awaking\n   Rose from their graves wild gestures making.\n   The youth was quaking--\nBut the old man smiled as his mind he led\nTo the kempion times long fled.\n\nThen a lamp in the night's deep silence shone\n   Through the dingy mould,\nAnd under the masses of fallen stone\n   There glittered gold.\n\nTo the harp then pointing the sage disappears,\nAnd the youth shed tears.\n\"Yes, yes, the young bard thy countenance knows,\"\n   So sang in wild passion the boy--\n\"Not in vain in my bosom a holy fire glows,\nNot in vain thy bright lamp the grave's mystery shews,\n   The bard will obey thee with joy.\"\n\nAgain there appeared in the dreams of the stripling\n   A being who held him intent;\nIt came as in flood come the high billows rippling,\n   Like billows when ebbing it went.\n\nThough the look of an aged and slow female wearing,\nIt ran like the breezes in spring time careering,\nFull often it vanished with threatening bearing.\n   But suddenly caught he the fugitive wild,\n   And then by his breast a maiden smil'd.\n\"Thee often I've met on life's journey,\" he said,\n\"And when like a meteor thou past me hast sped,\n   I've seen thee look backward--and threaten.\n\n\"O! kiss me, sweet maiden, ere on thou dost stray,\nI've seen thee with flowers strew the wanderer's way.\n   They lived in their brightness,\n   When thou in this lightness,\nHad'st fled farthest off; and sometimes they became\nA Bauta-stone over the worm-wasted frame.\n\n\"Vouchsafe me a smile,\" said the youth, \"I entreat,\nI know thy course lightning-fleet.\n   Thy light pinions ever\n   Thou pliest, sweet giver\n   Of palms, verdant palms, to the stripling so clever,\nWho caught thee, though lightning fleet.\"\n\nAgain to his eye a fair vision was given,\nA being angelical stood in the heaven.\nIn morn's fresh rose-hues drest\nStood the spirit blest.\n   As shines from above\n   The starlet of love\nSo kindled his glance toward earth's gentle child.\n   As the maid to her beckons the youth she loves dearly,\n   When vespers are chiming and Luna shines clearly,\nSo toward him beckoned the Angel, and smil'd.\n\nWith rapture the songster took thither his way,\nWhere the winged one of heaven stood beauteous and gay.\nBut, just as he hoped that the height was surmounted,\nFar distant again they each other confronted.\nAnd still the Angel beckoned there,\nBut--never, never near.\n\"My seraph! wilt ever avoid my embrace?\"\n   --Said the songster with mortified mien--\n\"But though I'm unable to climb to thy place,\nMy eye thou hast blest from the mansions of grace,\n   And thy heaven, thou distant, I've seen.\"\n\nHis slumber departed, his visions they fled,\nBut oft when he harped they came into his head.\n\"Blest, trebly blest, may our life be regarded,\nFar unto me hear threefold life is awarded.\n\n\"See the roselet departed,\nA smile from its tomb has darted.\n   And the rose, which yet lives in blushes and bloom,\n   Breathes o'er me perfume.\nYes, from its concealment, the unborn rose\nBefore me seems to unclose.\"\n\n\n\n\nKING OLUF THE SAINT\n\n\nKing Oluf and his brother bold,\n   'Bout Norroway's rocks a parley hold.\n      (_So sweet in Drontheim 'tis to dwell_!)\n\n\"The one of us two who best can sail,\n   Shall rule o'er Norroway's hill and dale.\n\n\"Who first of us reaches our native ground,\n   O'er all the region shall King be crown'd.\"\n\nThen Harald Haardrode answer made:\n   \"Aye, let it be even as thou hast said.\n\n\"But if I to-day must sail with thee,\n   Thou shalt change vessels, I swear, with me.\n\n\"For thou hast got the Dragon of speed,\n   I shall make with the Ox a poor figure indeed.\n\n\"The dragon is swift as the clouds in chase,\n   The ox he moveth at lazy pace.\"\n\n\"Hear, Harald, what I shall say to thee,\n   What thou hast proposed well pleaseth me.\n\n\"If my ship in aught be better than thine,\n   I'm readily, cheerfully lend thee mine.\n\n\"Do thou the Dragon so sprightly take,\n   And I with the Ox will the journey make.\n\n\"But first to the Church we'll bend our way,\n   Ere our hand on sail or on oar we lay.\"\n\nAnd into the Church Saint Oluf trode,\n   His beautiful hair like the bright gold glow'd.\n\nBut soon out of breath there came a man:\n   \"Thy brother is sailing off, fast as he can.\"\n\n\"Let them sail, my friend, who to sail may choose,\n   The word of our Lord we will not lose,\n\n\"The Mass is the word of our blessed Lord.\n   Take water, ye swains, for our table board.\n\n\"We will sit at board, and the bread we will taste,\n   Then unto the sea-shore will we haste.\"\n\nNow down they all sped to the ocean strand,\n   Where the Ox lay rocking before the land.\n\nAnd speedily they to the ocean bore\n   The anchor, and cable, the sail and oar.\n\nSaint Oluf he stood on the prow when on board:\n   \"Now forward, thou Ox, in the name of the Lord!\"\n\nHe grappled the Ox by the horn so white:\n   \"Hie now as if thou went clover to bite!\"\n\nThen forward the Ox began to hie,\n   In his wake roll'd the billows boisterously.\n\nHe hallooed to the lad on the yard so high:\n   \"Do we the Dragon of Harald draw nigh?\"\n\n\"No more of the pomps of the world I see,\nThan the uppermost top of the good oak tree.\n\n\"I see, 'neath the land of Norroway, skim\nBright silken sails with a golden rim.\n\n\"I see, 'neath Norroway's mountains proud,\nThe Dragon bearing of sail a cloud.\n\n\"I see, I see, by Norroway's side,\nThe Dragon gallantly forward stride!\"\n\nOn the ribs of the Ox a blow he gave:\n\"Now faster, faster, over the wave!\"\n\nHe struck the Ox on the eye with force:\n\"To the haven much speedier thou must course!\"\n\nThen forward the Ox began to leap,\nNo sailor on deck his stand could keep.\n\nThen cords he took, and his mariners fast\nHe tied to the vessel's sheets and mast.\n\n'Twas then, 'twas then, the steersman cried:\n\"But who shall now the vessel guide?\"\n\nHis white gloves off Saint Oluf throws,\nAnd he himself to the rudder goes.\n\n\"O we will sail o'er cliff and height,\nThe nearest way like a line of light.\"\n\nSo o'er the hills and dales they career,\nTo them they became like water clear.\n\nThey sailed along o'er the mountains blue,\nThen out came running the Elfin crew.\n\n\"Who sails o'er the gold in which we joy?\nOur ancient father who dares annoy?\"\n\n\"Elf, turn to stone and a stone remain,\nTill I by this path return again!\"\n\nSo they sailed o'er Skaaney's mountains tall,\nAnd stones became the little elves all.\n\nOut came a Carline, with spindle and rok:\n\"Saint Oluf! why sailest thou us to mock?\n\n\"Saint Oluf, thou who the red beard hast,\nThrough my chamber wall thy ship hath passed.\"\n\nWith a glance of scorn did Saint Oluf say:\n\"Stand there a flint rock for ever and aye!\"\n\nUnchided, unhindered, they bravely sailed on,\nBefore them yielded both stock and stone.\n\nStill onward they sailed in such gallant guise,\nThat no man upon them could fix his eyes.\n\nSaint Oluf a bow before his knee bent,\nBehind the sail dropped the shaft he sent.\n\nFrom the prow Saint Oluf a barb shot free,\nBehind the Ox fell the shaft in the sea.\n\nSaint Oluf he trusted In Christ alone,\nAnd therefore home by three days he won.\n\nThat made Harald with fury storm,\nOf a laidly dragon he took the form.\n\nBut the Saint was a man of devotion full,\nAnd the Saint gat Norroway's land to rule.\n\nInto the Church Saint Oluf strode,\nHe thanked the Saviour in fervent mode.\n\nSaint Oluf walked the Church about,\nThere shone a glory his ringlets out.\n\nWhom God doth help makes bravely his way,\nHis enemies win but shame and dismay.\n\n\n\n\nTO SCRIBBLERS {30}\n\n\nWould it not be more dignified\nTo run up debts on every side,\nAnd then to pay your debts refuse,\nThan write for rascally Reviews?\nAnd lectures give to great and small,\nIn pothouse, theatre, and town-hall,\nWearing your brains by night and day\nTo win the means to pay your way?\nI vow by him who reigns in [hell],\nIt would be more respectable!\n\n\n\n\nTO A CONCEITED WOMAN\n\n\nBe still, be still, and speak not back again.\nWhat right have you to answer in this strain?\nWhilst I'm a man, a prince of the creation,\nYou're but a female woman by your station;\nA creature for man's sovereign service born,\nWhose fitting wages are contempt and scorn.\nA creature formed to dive down in the sea\nTo fetch up sea-eggs for the likes of me;\nOnly too grateful, when we've stilled our greed,\nIf on our leavings you're allowed to feed.\nIf thus I speak, I speak on public grounds,\nMy only aim is to keep well in bounds.\n\n                                * * * * *\n\n                                 LONDON:\n               Printed for THOMAS J. WISE, Hampstead, N.W.\n                   _Edition limited to Thirty Copies_.\n\n\n\n\nFootnotes:\n\n\n{14}  Karise-By = Karise Village.\n\n{30}  Composed upon the occasion of the refusal by Lockhart to insert, in\n_The Quarterly Review_, Borrow's Essay suggested by Ford's _Hand-book for\nTravellers in Spain_, 1845, in the unmutilated and unamended form in\nwhich the author had written it.","title":"Queen Berngerd, The Bard and the Dreams, and Other Ballads","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":2808}