horse, this day;
   I’ll pledge for him what I can.”

* * * * *

In came Humble, with boot and spur,
   He cast on the table his sword:
“Sivard stands in the green wood bound,
   He speaks not a single word.

“O, I have been to the wild forest,
   And have seiz’d the warrior stark;
Sivard there was taken by me,
   And tied to the oak’s rough bark.”

* * * * *

The queen she sat in the high, high loft,
   And thence look’d far and wide:
“O there comes Sward Snaresvend,
   With a stately oak at his side.”

Then loud laugh’d fair Queen Gloriant,
   As she looked on Sivard full:
“Thou wert, no doubt, in great, great need,
   When thou such flowers didst pull.”

1854.

There were seven and seven times twenty
   Away from Hald that went;
And when they came to Brattingsborg
   There pitch’d they up their tent.

King Nilaus stood on the turret’s top,
   Had all around in sight:
“If yonder host comes here to joust
   They hold their lives but light.

“Now, hear me, Sivard Snarenswayne,
   One thing I crave of thee;
To meet them go, for I would know
   Their arms, and who they be.”

* * * * *

There shine upon the eighteenth shield
   A Giant and a Sow;
Who deals worse blows amidst his foes,
   Count Lideberg, than thou?

Wherever Sir Nordman comes in war
   He winneth fame in field;
Yon blooming rose and verdant boughs
   Adorn the twentieth shield.

A copper kettle, fairly wrought,
   Upon the next you see;
’Tis borne by one who realms has won,
   Sir Mogan good, by thee!

Forth comes the two-and-twentieth shield,
   A sun mid mist and smoke;
Of wrestler line full many a spine
   Has Asborn Milday broke.

A glittering faulchion shines upon
   The four-and-twentieth shield;
And that doth bear Sir Jerfing’s heir,
   He’s worthy it to wield.

* * * * *

Young Humble struck his hand on the board,
   No longer he lists to play;
I tell to you that the rosy hue
   From his cheek fast fled away.

“Now hear me, Vidrik Verlandson,
   Thou art a man so free;
Lend me thy horse to ride this course,
   Grey Skimming lend to me.”

* * * * *

In came Humble, with boot and spur,
   On the table cast his sword:
“’Neath the green-wood bough stands Sivard now,
   He speaketh not a word.

“O, I have been to the forest wild,
   And have seiz’d the warrior good:
These hands did chain the Snarenswayne
   To the oak’s bark in the wood.”

* * * * *

The Queen she sat in the chamber high,
   And thence look’d far and wide:
“Across the plain comes the Snarenswayne,
   With an oak-tree at his side.”

Then loud laughed fair Queen Ellinore,
   As she looked on Sivard full:
“Thou wast, I guess, in sore distress
   When thou such flowers didst pull!”

A reduced facsimile of the first page of the Manuscript of the 1854 version of The Tournament will be found herewith, facing page 28.

82

Vidrik Verlandson.  [King Diderik sits in the halls of Bern]

Vidrik Verlandson was another of the Ballads entirely re-written by Borrow in 1854 for the proposed Kœmpe Viser.  The text of the later version differed extremely from that of 1826, as the following examples will shew:

1826.

“A handsome smith my father was,
   And Verland hight was he:
Bodild they call’d my mother fair;
   Queen over countries three:

“Skimming I call my noble steed,
   Begot from the wild sea-mare:
Blank do I call my haughty helm,
   Because it glitters so fair:

“Skrepping I call my good thick shield;
   Steel shafts have furrow’d it o’er:
Mimmering have I nam’d my sword;
   ’Tis hardened in heroes’ gore:

“And I am Vidrik Verlandson:
   For clothes bright iron I wear:
Stand’st thou not up on thy long, long legs,
   I’ll pin thee down to thy lair:

“Do thou stand up on thy long, long legs,
   Nor look so dogged and grim;
The King holds out before the wood;
   Thou shall yield thy treasure to him.”

“All, all the gold that I possess,
   I will keep with great renown;
I’ll yield it at no little horse-boy’s word,
   To the best king wearing a crown.”

“So young and little as here I seem,
   Thou shalt find me prompt in a fray;
I’ll hew the head from thy shoulders off,
   And thy much gold bear away.”

* * * * *

It was Langben the lofty Jutt,
   He wav’d his steel mace round;
He sent a blow after Vidrik;
   But the mace struck deep in the ground.

It was Langben the lofty Jutt,
   Who had thought his foeman to slay,
But the blow fell short of Vidrik;
   For the good horse bore him away.

It was Langben the lofty Jutt,
   That shouted in wild despair:
“Now lies my mace in the hillock fast,
   As though ’twere hammered in there!”

* * * * *

“Accursed be thou, young Vidrik!
   And accursed thy piercing steel!
Thou hast given me, see, a wound in my breast,
   Whence rise the pains I feel.”

* * * * *

“Now hear, now hear, thou warrior youth,
   Thou canst wheel thy courser about;
But in every feat of manly strength
   I could beat thee out and out.”

1854.

“My father was a smith by trade,
   And Verland Smith he hight;
Bodild they call’d my mother dear,
   A monarch’s daughter bright.

“Blank do I call my helm, thereon
   Full many a sword has snapped;
Skrepping I call my shield, thereon
   Full many a shaft has rapped.

“Skimming I call my steed, begot
   From the wild mare of the wood;
Mimmering have I named my sword,
   ’Tis hardened in heroes’ blood.

“And I am Viderik Verlandson,
   Bright steel for clothes I wear;
Stand up on thy long legs, or I
   Will pin thee to thy lair!

“Stand up on thy long legs, nor look
   So dogged and so grim;
The King doth hold before the wood,
   Thy treasure yield to him!”

“Whatever gold I here possess
   I’ll keep, like a Kemp of worth;
I’ll yield it at no horseboy’s word
   To any King on earth!”

“So young and little as I seem
   I’m active in a fray;
I’ll hew thy head, thou lubbard, off,
   And bear thy gold away!”

* * * * *

It was Langben the Giant waved
   His steely mace around;
He sent a blow at Vidrik, but
   The mace struck deep in the ground.

It was Langben, the lofty Jutt,
   Had thought his foe to slay;
But the blow fell short, for the speedy horse
   His master bore away.

It was Langben, the lofty Jutt,
   He bellow’d to the heaven:
“My mace is tight within the height,
   As though by a hammer driven!”

* * * * *

Accurs’d be thou, young Vidrik!
   Accursed be thy steel!
Thou’st given me a mighty wound,
   And mighty pain I feel.

* * * * *

“Now hear, now hear, thou warrior youth,
   Thou well canst wheel thy steed;
But I could beat thee out and out
   In every manly deed.”

In Romantic Ballads, and also in the Manuscript of 1854, this Ballad is entitled Vidrik Verlandson.  In the Manuscript of 1829 it is entitled Vidrik Verlandson’s Conflict with the Giant Langben.  The text of this Manuscript is intermediate between that of the other two versions.

A reduced facsimile of the first page of the Manuscript of the 1854 version of Vidrik Verlandson is given herewith, facing p. 35.

98

Elvir Hill.  [I rested my head upon Elvir Hill’s side, and my eyes were beginning to slumber]

In the Manuscript of 1829 this Ballad is entitled Elfin Hill, and the text differs considerably from that printed in 1826.  I give the opening stanzas of each version.

1826.

I rested my head upon Elvir Hill’s side, and my eyes were beginning to slumber;
That moment there rose up before me two maids, whose charms would take ages to number.

One patted my face, and the other exclaim’d, while loading my cheek with her kisses,
“Rise, rise, for to dance with you here we have sped from the undermost caves and abysses.

“Rise, fair-haired swain, and refuse not to dance; and I and my sister will sing thee
The loveliest ditties that ever were heard, and the prettiest presents will bring thee.”

Then both of them sang so delightful a song, that the boisterous river before us
Stood suddenly quiet and placid, as though ’twere afraid to disturb the sweet chorus.

1829.

I rested my head upon Elfin Hill, on mine eyes was slumber descending;
That moment there rose up before me two maids, with me to discourse intending.

The one kissed me on my cheek so white, the other she whispered mine ear in:
“Arise, arise, thou beautiful swain! for thou our dance must share in.

“Wake up, wake up, thou beautiful swain! rise and dance ’mongst the verdant grasses;
And to sing thee the sweetest of their songs I’ll bid my elfin lasses.”

To sing a song then one began, in voice so sweet and mellow,
The boisterous stream was still’d thereby, that before was wont to bellow.

111

Waldemar’s Chase.  [Late at eve they were toiling on Harribee bank]

Previously printed in The Monthly Magazine, August 1824, p. 21.

115

The Merman.  [Do thou, dear mother, contrive amain]

A later, and greatly improved, version of this Ballad was included, under the title The Treacherous Merman, in The Serpent Knight and Other Ballads, 1913, pp. 15–17.  An early draft of this later version bears the title Marsk Stig’s Daughter.

117

The Deceived Merman.  [Fair Agnes alone on the sea-shore stood]

Previously printed in The Monthly Magazine, March 1825, pp. 143–144.

120

Cantata.  [This is Denmark’s holyday]

127

The Hail-Storm.  [When from our ships we bounded]

The Hail Storm was reprinted in Targum, 1835, pp. 42–43, and again in Young Swaigder or The Force of Runes and Other Ballads, 1913, pp. 14–15.  In each instance very considerable variations were introduced into the text.

136

The Elder-Witch.  [Though tall the oak, and firm its stem]

139

Ode.  From the Gælic.  [Oh restless, to night, are my slumbers]

142

Bear Song.  [The squirrel that’s sporting]

Previously printed, with some trifling differences in the text, in The Monthly Magazine, December, 1824, p. 432.

144

National Song.  [King Christian stood beside the mast]

Previously printed (under the title “Sea Song; from the Danish of Evald”) in The Monthly Magazine, December, 1823, p. 437.

146

The Old Oak.  [Here have I stood, the pride of the park]

149

Lines to Six-Foot Three.  [A lad, who twenty tongues can talk]

151

Nature’s Temperaments:

 

1.  Sadness.  [Lo, a pallid fleecy vapour]

155

2.  Glee.  [Roseate colours on heaven’s high arch]

156

3.  Madness.  [What darkens, what darkens?—’tis heaven’s high roof]

In a revised Manuscript of uncertain date, but c 1860–70, this poem is entitled Hecla and Etna, the first line reading:

“What darkens?  It is the wide arch of the sky.”

158

The Violet-Gatherer.  [Pale the moon her light was shedding]

159

Ode to a Mountain-Torrent.  [How lovely art thou in thy tresses of foam]

Previously printed in The Monthly Magazine, October, 1823, p. 244.

In The Monthly Magazine the eighth stanza reads:

O pause for a time,—for a short moment