Kitabı oku: «Tord of Hafsborough, and Other Ballads», sayfa 2

 
And then as they strove to ’scape through the door,
   She slew the little trolds all.
 
 
The guests and the Norland men each one
   So downcast were of mood;
Blows from the hand of the bride they got
   That robbed their cheeks of blood.
 
 
It was Lokke Leyemand,
   He opened his mouth in game:
“Now we will fare to our country home,
   And our sire a widow proclaim.”
 

FROM THE ARABIC

 
O thou who fain would’st wisdom gain,
   Live night and day untired;
For by repeated toil and pain
   It is alone acquired.
 

THORVALD

Svend Tveskjeg havde sig en Maud

 
   Swayne Tveskieg did a man possess,
      Sir Thorvald hight;
   Though fierce in war, kind acts in peace
      Were his delight.
   From port to port his vessels fast
      Sailed wide around,
   And made, where’er they anchor cast,
      His name renown’d.
But Thorvald has freed his King.
 
 
   Prisoners he bought – clothes, liberty,
      On them bestowed,
   And sent men home from slavery
      To their abode.
   And many an old man got his boy,
      His age’s stay;
   And many a maid her youth’s sole joy,
      Her lover gay.
But Thorvald has freed his King.
 
 
   A brave fight Thorvald loved full dear,
      For brave his mood;
   But never did he dip his spear
      In feeble blood.
   He followed Swayne to many a fray
      With war-shield bright,
   And his mere presence scar’d away
      Foul deeds of might.
But Thorvald has freed his King.
 
 
   They hoist sail on the lofty mast,
      It was King Swayne,
   He o’er the bluey billows pass’d
      With armed train.
   His mind to harry Bretland boiled;
      He leapt on shore
   And every, every thing recoiled
      His might before.
But Thorvald has freed his King.
 
 
   Yet slept not Bretland’s chieftain good;
      He speedily
   Collected a host in the dark wood
      Of cavalry.
   And evil through that subtle plan
      Befell the Dane;
   They were ta’en prisoners every man,
      And last King Swayne.
But Thorvald has freed his King.
 
 
   “Now hear thou prison-foogd! and pray
      My message heed;
   Unto the castle take thy way,
      Thence Thorvald lead!
   Prison and chains become him not,
      Whose gallant hand
   So many a handsome lad has brought
      From slavery’s band.”
But Thorvald has freed his King.
 
 
   The man brought this intelligence
      To the bower’s door,
   But Thorvald, with loud vehemence,
      “I’ll not go,” swore.
   “What – go, and leave my sovereign here,
      In durance sore?
   No! Thorvald then ne’er worthy were
      To lift shield more.”
But Thorvald has freed his King.
 
 
   What cannot noble souls effect?
      Both freedom gain
   Through Thorvald’s prayer, and the respect
      His deeds obtain.
   And from that hour unto his grave,
      Swayne ever show’d
   Towards his youth’s friend, so true and brave,
      Fit gratitude.
But Thorvald has freed his King.
 
 
   Swayne Tveskieg sat with kings one tide,
      O’er mead and beer,
   The cushion soft he stroaked and cried,
      “Sit, Thorvald, here.
   Thy father ne’er rul’d land like me
      And my compeers!
   But yarl and nobleman is he
      Whose fame thine nears.
For Thorvald has freed his King.”