The Tale of Brynild, and King Valdemar and His Sister: Two Ballads

Borrow George

The Tale of Brynild, and King Valdemar and His Sister: Two Ballads

THE TALE OF BRYNILD

Sivard he a colt has got,The swiftest ’neath the sun;Proud Brynild from the Hill of GlassIn open day he won.Unto her did of knights and swainsThe very flower ride;Not one of them the maid to winCould climb the mountain’s side.The hill it was both steep and smooth;Upon its lofty headHer sire had set her, knight nor swainHe swore with her should wed.Soon to the Danish monarch’s courtA messenger repaired,To know if there was any oneTo try the adventure dared.’Twas talked about, and Sivard thenHis purpose soon made known;Said he: “I’ll try upon my coltTo bring Brynilda down.”He rode away, the way was far,The path was of the worst;He saw the shining Glass Hill, whereThe maid her durance curs’d.And he away proud Brynild bore,Nor deemed the adventure hard;To bold Sir Nielus her he gaveTo show him his regard.Proud Brynild and proud SignelilThose maids of beauteous mien,Down to the river’s side they wentTheir silken robes to clean.“Now do thou hear, thou proud Brynild,What now I say to thee,Where didst thou get the bright gold ringI on thy finger see?”“How did I get the bright gold ringWhich on my hand you see?That gave me Sivard Snareswayne,When he betrothed me.”“And though young Sivard gave thee thatWhen he his love declar’d,He gives thee to Sir Nielus nowIn proof of his regard.”No sooner than did Brynild hear,The haughty hearted may,Than to the chamber high she went,Where sick of rage she lay.It was the proud Brynild thereFell sick, and moaning lay;And her the proud Sir Nielus thenAttended every day.“Now hark to me, thou Brynild fair,My mind is ill at ease;Know’st thou of any medicineCan cure thy sad disease?“If there be aught this world withinCan make thee cease to moan,That thou shalt have, e’en if it costAll, all the gold I own.”“I know of nought within this worldCan do my sickness good,Except of Sivard SnareswayneIt be the hated blood.“And there is nothing in this worldWhich can assuage my pain,Except of Sivard SnareswayneThe head I do obtain.”“To draw of Sivard SnareswayneThe blood I have no might;His neck is hard as burnished steel,No sword thereon will bite.”“O hark, Sir Nielus, hark to me,My well beloved lord,Borrow of him his Adelring,His famous trusty sword.“Tell him thou needest it so oftWhen thou dost wage a fight,But soon as ’tis within thy handHew off his head outright.”It was the bold Sir Nielus thenHis mantle puts he on;To Sivard, his companion true,To the high hall he’s gone.“Now hear, O Sivard Snareswayne,Thy sword unto me lend,For I unto the field of fightFull soon my course must bend.”“My trusty faulchion AdelringI’ll freely lend to thee;No man be sure shall thee o’ercome,However strong he be.“My trusty faulchion AdelringTo thee I’ll freely yield,But, oh! beware thee of the tearsBeneath the hilt conceal’d.“Beware thee of those frightful tears,They all are bloody red;If down thy fingers they should runThou wert that moment dead.”Upstood the bold Sir Nielus then,Drew out the sword amain;One blow and off the head is hewnOf Sivard Snareswayne.Beneath his mantle then he takesThe head, distilling blood,And hurrying to the chamber highBefore Brynilda stood.“Behold the head, the bloody head,Thou didst so crave to gain;For thee I’ve done a felon deedWhich gives my heart such pain.”“O lay aside the bloody head,It fills my heart with fright;And come to me, my dearest lord,Beneath the linen white.”“I crave thee, woman, not to thinkI came for sport and play;Thou wast the wicked cause that IFrom honour went astray.”It was the bold Sir Nielus thenHis faulchion he drew out;It was the beauteous Brynild whomHe all to pieces smote.“Now have I slain my comrade dear,And eke my lovely may,Yet still I am resolved in mindA third, a third to slay.”So then against the hard stone floorHe placed the trusty glaive;To his heart’s root the point in went,And him his death wound gave.’Twere better that this maid had diedWithin her mother’s womb,Than that these princely men through herTo such an end should come.Now will I rede, each honest manWell to deliberate ever;Unequalled woman’s cunning is,Though guiles of men be clever.She laughs when ’tis her wish to laugh,And weeps when she will weep;Whene’er she wants thy heart to moveFair words on thee she’ll heap.Be she sick, or be she well,In woman ne’er confide;In murder red, by woman led,His hands Sir Nielus dyed.

KING VALDEMAR AND HIS SISTER

See, see, with Queen Sophy sits Valdemar bold.About little Kirsten much parlance they hold.“Now hark, my good Lord! I have this to propose,That thou shalt give Kirsten to Buris for spouse.A sister thou hast, I a brave brother own,A wedding we’ll have ere this good year be flown.”“It never shall happen, as long as I live,That I to a horse-thief my sister will give.My sister’s a princess so fair and so bright,

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