Kitabı oku: «The Fountain of Maribo, and Other Ballads»

THE FOUNTAIN OF MARIBO
or
THE QUEEN AND THE ALGREVE

 
The Algreve¹ he his bugle wound
   The long night all—
The Queen in bower heard the sound,
   I’m passion’s thrall.
 
 
The Queen her little page address’d,
   The long night all—
“To come to me the Greve request,”
   I’m passion’s thrall.
 
 
He came, before the board stood he,
   The long night all—
“Wherefore, O Queen, has sent for me?”
   I’m passion’s thrall.
 
 
“As soon as e’er my lord is dead,
   The long night all—
Thou shalt rule o’er my gold so red,”
   I’m passion’s thrall.
 
 
“O speak not, Queen, in such wild style,
   The long night all—
Thou know’st not who may list the while,”
   I’m passion’s thrall.
 
 
She fondly thought alone they were,
   The long night all—
There stood the King, to all gave ear,
   I’m passion’s thrall.
 
 
The King two serving men address’d,
   The long night all—
“To come to me the Queen request,”
   I’m passion’s thrall.
 
 
“Hear thou, my Queen, so fair and sleek,
   The long night all—
What with the Algreve didst thou speak?”
   I’m passion’s thrall.
 
 
“The speech that I with him did hold,
   The long night all—
Was all about thy actions bold,”
   I’m passion’s thrall.
 
 
“The King two servants did command,
   The long night all—
“Bid ye the Greve before me stand,”
   I’m passion’s thrall.
 
 
“Hear thou, my Greve, what with my Queen
   The long night all—
Didst thou discourse of yestere’en?”
   I’m passion’s thrall.
 
 
“The whole discourse that we did hold,
   The long night all—
Was of thy virtues manifold,”
   I’m passion’s thrall.
 
 
The King his little page address’d,
   The long night all—
“To come to me the cook request,”
   I’m passion’s thrall.
 
 
“Thou cook, the Greve to pieces chop,
   The long night all—
And to thy Lady serve him up,”
   I’m passion’s thrall.
 
 
Long sat the Queen, the meat she eyed,
   The long night all—
“This is no Roe I’m satisfied,
   I’m passion’s thrall.
 
 
“But ’tis the Greve our hall who grac’d.”
   The long night all—
The pieces she collects in haste,
   I’m passion’s thrall.
 
 
She wrapped them in white ermine skin,
   The long night all—
A gilded chest she placed them in.
   I’m passion’s thrall.
 
 
She them collects, then wends her slow,
   The long night all—
Unto the fount of Maribo.
   I’m passion’s thrall.
 
 
She dipped them in the water pure,
   The long night all—
“Rise, Christian man, I thee conjure!”
 

 
   I’m passion’s thrall.
 
 
The man arose, and thanked his God,
   The long night all—
Then from the country forth he trod.
   I’m passion’s thrall.
 

RAMUND

 
Ramund thought he should a better man be
   If better apparel arrayed him;
Of garments of leather, and hemp patch’d together,
   The Queen then a present made him.
“These I will not wear,” bold Ramund he said,
   “They beseem me not fair,” said Ramund the young.
 
 
“Your garments of tow and leather bestow
   On the cleaners of trencher and platter.”
The Lady to give him fresh clothes was not slow,
   And of sammet and silk were the latter.
“Yes, these will I wear,” bold Ramund he said,
   “They beseem me right fair,” said Ramund the young.
 
 
Ramund he into the shop now hies,
   Where the best of all tailors was sitting:
“Now wilt thou, O tailor, so dext’rous and wise,
   Make clothes for Ramund fitting?”
“And why should I not?” the tailor he said,
   “Then thou’lt do well I wot,” said Ramund the young.
 
 
“Twice twenty-five ells for the breeches take,
   Fifteen for the points of the breeches;
And them thou must strong and durable make
   If thou therein settest stitches.”
“These are too tight,” bold Ramund he said,
   “I can’t stride out aright,” said Ramund the young.
 
 
Now Ramund his ships beside the shore
   With everything needful prepareth;
And away, away, the salt ocean o’er
   To the land of the Jutuns he beareth.
“We are come to this soil,” bold Ramund he said,
   “And withouten much toil,” said Ramund the young.
 
 
Ramund he wanders along the strand,
   There seven tall Giants faced him:
“If I take Ramund in my left hand
   I afar from the land will cast him.”
“You’ll not do that alone,” bold Ramund he said,
   “Ye must come every one,” said Ramund the young.
 
 
Ramund drew out his trusty glaive,
   To which Dymling for name he had given;
And dead to the earth with seven blows brave
   He hewed the Jotuns seven.
“There ye all seven lie,” bold Ramund he said,
   “And still living am I,” said Ramund the young.
 
 
Ramund walked on till the big Jutt he spied,
   And to see him he sorely wonder’d;
For full fifty ells was his carcase wide,
   And his height was nearly a hundred.
“What a breadth, what a height!” bold Ramund he said,
   “Dost wish for a fight?” said Ramund the young.
 
 
“Dear Ramund, if thou wilt let me live,
   And to me no damage wilt proffer,
I’ll bathe thee in wine, and to thee I will give