{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_28772/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_28772","id":"gutenberg_28772","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/28772","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\n\n\n\n                           ELLEN OF VILLENSKOV\n                            AND OTHER BALLADS\n\n\n                                    BY\n                              GEORGE BORROW\n\n                                 LONDON:\n                     PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION\n                                   1913\n\n\n\n\nELLEN OF VILLENSKOV.\n\n\nThere lies a wold in Vester Haf,\n   There builds a boor his hold;\nAnd thither he carries hawk and hound,\n   He'll stay through winter's cold.\n\nHe takes with him both hound and cock,\n   He means there long to stay;\nThe wild deer in the wood that are\n   For his arrival pay.\n\nHe hews the oak and poplar tall,\n   He fells the good beech tree;\nThen fill'd was the laidly Trold with spite\n   That he should make so free.\n\nHe hews him posts, he hews him balks,\n   He early toils and late;\nOut spake the Trolds within the hill:\n   \"Who knocks at such a rate?\"\n\nThen up and spake the youngest Trold,\n   As emmet small to view:\n\"O here is come a Christian man,\n   But verily he shall rue.\"\n\nUpstood the smallest of the Trolds,\n   And round he roll'd his eyes:\n\"O we will hie to the yeoman's house,\n   And o'er him hold assize.\n\n\"He hews away our sheltering wood,\n   Meanwhile shall we be tame?\nNo! I from him his wife will take,\n   And make him suffer shame.\"\n\nAll the Trolds in the hill that were\n   Wild for the fray upbound;\nThey hie away to the yeoman's house,\n   Their tails all curling round.\n\nSeven and a hundred were the Trolds,\n   Their laidliness was great;\nTo the yeoman's house they'll go as guests,\n   With him to drink and eat.\n\nThe hound is yelling in the yard,\n   The herdsman blows his horn;\nCrows the cock and clucks the hen\n   As the yeoman throws them corn.\n\nOf Villenskov the yeoman saw\n   The Trolds the window through:\n\"Now help me Jesu, Mary's son,\n   Those trolds have me in view.\"\n\nHe sign'd the cross in every nook,\n   But mostly in his room;\nSome of the Trolds in fright thereat\n   Flew to the forest's gloom.\n\nSome flew east, and some flew west,\n   And some flew north away;\nAnd others flew to the valleys deep,\n   Where still, I trow, they stay.\n\nBut ah! the smallest of the Trolds\n   Bold enter'd at the door;\nFor crossing he refus'd to flee,\n   Was bent on mischief sore.\n\nThe housewife thought of a good device,\n   She plac'd him at the board,\nAnd before him set both ale and meat,\n   With many a courteous word.\n\n\"Hear, husbandman of Villenskov,\n   Attend to what I say;\nWho has to thee permission given\n   To build where I have sway?\n\n\"Since thou to build within my bounds\n   Hast ta'en the liberty,\nThou shalt to me thy housewife give,\n   For I with her will lie.\"\n\nThen answer made the hapless man,\n   As God gave him the thought:\n\"Thou shalt not Ellen get from me,\n   Like her I value nought.\"\n\nHe answer made unto the Trold:\n   \"Let but my wife alone,\nAnd do thou take my money and goods,\n   And keep them for thy own.\"\n\n\"Then I will Ellen take, and thee,\n   And tread ye both to gore;\nAnd I will take thy silver and gold\n   And hide it 'neath my floor.\"\n\nThe yeoman and his household all\n   Were seized with mighty fright:\n\"Better that one of us be lost\n   Than all destroy'd outright.\"\n\nThen up and stood the desp'rate man,\n   With sore affliction rife;\nAnd he has given his Ellen dear\n   To the young Trold for wife.\n\nThen wax'd he glad, and sprang about,\n   So fondly her he pressed;\nO then how pale her cheeks became,\n   She was so sore distrest!\n\nThen out and spake the afflicted Dame\n   Whilst shedding many a tear:\n\"O God in mercy look on me,\n   My fate is hard to bear.\n\n\"I did possess as fair a man\n   As ever walk'd-on mead,\nBut now perforce with laidly Trold\n   Must do adulterous deed.\"\n\nHe kiss'd her once, he kiss'd her twice,\n   Her heart yet sadder grew;\nThe laidliest Devil he became\n   That man did ever view.\n\nWhen the third time he her would kiss\n   She call'd on Mary's son;\nThen he became a lovely knight,\n   His elfin shape was gone.\n\nIt happen'd neath a linden green\n   He was from woe releas'd;\nThen straightway fled all fear and dread,\n   So well they all were pleas'd.\n\n\"Hear, thou beloved Ellenlile,\n   Consent my wife to be,\nAnd all the gold in England's isle\n   I will bestow on thee.\n\n\"When I was little, Death from me\n   My mother took away;\nMy step-dame drove me forth, and I\n   Became a Trold so gray.\n\n\"I'll give thy husband gifts of price\n   And titles fair beside;\nIn verity, thou yeoman's dame,\n   Thou wilt become my bride.\"\n\n\"Thou noble knight, we'll thank the Lord\n   From woe who set us free,\nIf thou wilt wed some fair young maid\n   You both may live in glee.\"\n\n\"If thee I can't in marriage get\n   I'll have thy daughter bright,\nAnd all thy benefits to me\n   By crowning her requite.\n\n\"Thanks, Ellen, thanks, thou woman wise,\n   To praise thee I'll not cease;\nIf I may not thy love obtain\n   I'll leave thee here in peace.\"\n\nNow builds the yeoman on his isle,\n   And no one him offends;\nHis daughter bears old England's crown,\n   And happy days she spends.\n\nNow Ellen has, the yeoman's wife,\n   Escap'd from care and harm;\nShe's mother to a Queen, who sleeps\n   Within a Monarch's arm.\n\nWho bore him first a daughter fine,\n   And then a blooming heir;\nThey thank'd the Lord on every side\n   For all their fortune fair.\n\nThe daughter now of Ellenlile\n   Of England has the sway;\nAnd Ellen with her yeoman lives,\n   Each other's equals they.\n\n\n\n\nURANIENBORG.\n\n\n                             _From Heiberg_.\n\nThou who the strand dost wander,\n   Thy steps, O traveller, stay!\nTurn to the island yonder,\n   And listen to my lay.\nThy every meditation\n   Bid hither, hither stray:\nOn yonder banks its station\n   Had once a Castelaye.\n\nIn long past days in glory\n   It stood, and grandeur sheen\nNow 'twas so transitory\n   Its ruins scarce are seen.\nBut in old days I warrant\n   Its equal was not found;\nFrom every side apparent\n   High tower'd it from the ground.\n\nFor no sea-king intended\n   I ween was yonder hold;\nUrania, it ascended\n   In praise of thee so bold.\nClose by the ocean roaring,\n   Far, far from mortal jars,\nIt stood tow'rds heaven soaring,\n   And tow'rds the little stars.\n\nA gate in the wall eastward,\n   Display'd its mighty mouth;\nThere was another westward,\n   And spires stood north and south.\nThe dome itself, high rearing,\n   A slender spirelet bore,\nUpon it, ever veering,\n   A Pegasus gilt o'er.\n\nTowers which the sight astounded\n   In north and south were plac'd;\nUpon strong pillars founded,\n   And with fair galleries grac'd.\nAnd there caught the attention\n   Of those that thither stroll'd,\nQuadrants of hugh dimension,\n   And speres in frames that roll'd.\n\nFrom yonder Castle, gazing\n   Across the isle, you spied\nThe woods, their heads up-raising,\n   And ocean's bluey tide.\nThe halls the sight enchanted\n   With colours bright of blee;\nThe gardens they were planted\n   With many a flower and tree.\n\nWhen down came night careering\n   And vanish'd was the sun,\nThe stars were seen appearing\n   All heaven's arch upon.\nThen far was heard the yelling,\n   When you thereto gave heed,\nOf those that watch'd the dwelling,\n   Four hounds of mastiff breed.\n\nThe good knight ceas'd to walk on\n   The fields of war and gore,\nHis helm and sword the balk on\n   He hung, to use no more.\nFrom earth, its woe and riot,\n   His soul had taken flight,\nWhen in his chamber quiet\n   He sat at dead of night.\n\nThen he his eye erected\n   Into the night so far,\nAnd keen the course inspected\n   Of every twinkling star.\nThe stars his fame transported\n   Wide over sea and land,\nAnd kings his friendship courted,\n   And sought his islet's strand.\n\nBut point the stars from heaven\n   To lands far o'er the main;\nHe went, by fortune driven,\n   And ne'er returned again.\nThe haughty walls through sorrow\n   Have long since sunken low,\nAnd heavy plow-shares furrow\n   Thy house, Urania, now.\n\nEach time the sun is sinking\n   It friendly looks on Hveen;\nIts rays there linger, thinking\n   On what the place has been.\nThe moon hastes melancholy\n   Past, past the coast so dear,\nAnd in love's transport holy\n   Shines Freya's starlet clear.\n\nThen suddenly takes to heaving\n   Of that same ruin'd hold\nThe basis deep, believing\n   It is some eve of old.\nFor many moments gladly\n   'Twould rise up from the mould;\nBut ah! it can't, and sadly\n   Sinks in death's slumber cold.\n\n\n\n\nTHE READY ANSWER.\n\n\nThe brother to his dear sister spake;\n\"Wilt thou not quickly a husband take?\"\n\n\"Dear brother, I'll do no such thing,\nI'm far too young for marrying.\"\n\n\"Then why so oft do I hear it said\nThat thou preparest thee to wed?\"\n\n\"Ah! folks such store of scandal say,\nThat only fools attention pay.\"\n\n\"Who was that gallant knight, that rode\nThis morning early from thy abode?\"\n\n\"A very gallant knight, indeed,\nIt was my page upon his steed.\"\n\n\"What might that pair of shoes betide,\nThat lately stood by thy bedside?\"\n\n\"If pair of shoes stood ever there,\nThat pair of shoes my slippers were.\"\n\n\"Those children small, how came they, say,\nThe other day in thy bed that lay?\"\n\n\"No children small I ween were they,\nBut pups with which I'm wont to play.\"\n\n\"How happ'd this morn that baby scream.\nWhich from thy chamber broke my dream?\"\n\n\"O babes in that guise seldom squall,\nMy maid cried for her keys so small.\"\n\n\"What might that splendid cradle mean,\nWhich hidden here I oft have seen?\"\n\n\"It was no cradle met thine eyes,\nBut my silk woof about that lies.\n\n\"Brother if thou hast questions more,\nI've other answers still in store.\"\n\nWhen women for answers are at stop,\nThere'll be in the main no water drop.\n\n\n\n\nEPIGRAMS\n\n\n1.\n\n\nThere's no living, my boy, without plenty of gold,\nBut gold to obtain you must ever be bold.\nThe Diver will never who feareth the shark\nBring up precious pearls from the sea caverns dark.\n\n\n\n2.\n\n\nO think not you'll change what on high is designed,\n   Though you lift up your hands and to heaven you shout;\nThe Angel will grieve not, who governs the wind,\n   Though a gust should the lamp of the widow blow out.\n\n\n\n3.\n\n\nLoad not thyself with gold, O mortal man, for know\n   No strength thou'lt have for loads when summon'd hence away.\nAvoid excess of meat, it maketh gross, I trow,\n   And gross thou must not be when summon'd hence away;\nFor through the narrow gate thou'lt find it hard to go\n   Of death, if thou art gross when summon'd hence away.\n\n                                * * * * *\n\n                                 LONDON:\n               Printed for THOMAS J. WISE, Hampstead, N.W.\n                   _Edition limited to Thirty Copies_.","title":"Ellen of Villenskov, and Other Ballads","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":1823}