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Title: The Transformed Damsel [My father up of the country rode]
Author: George Borrow [
More Titles by Borrow]
My father up of the country rode,
A maiden he would wed;
And a foul witch he married then,
If the whole truth be said.
The first night they together slept,
She was a mother kind to me;
But when the second night arrived,
A cruel stepmother was she.
I was seated at my father's board
With dogs and whelps amused;
Towards me striding my stepmother came,
And cruelly me she used.
She changed me to a little hind,
Bade me into the forest wend;
My seven maids then she changed to wolves,
And ordered them my flesh to rend.
But my seven maids would rend me not,
So dearly me they loved;
Then vexed sore my step-dame was,
That no worse my fortune proved.
Sir Orm he serves in the King's palace,
A Knight is he so fair;
He sighs for the maiden day and night,
But in secret he keeps his care.
Sir Orm he rode from the King's palace,
He could enjoy no peace;
He rode into the good green wood,
The hart and hind to chase.
Sir Orm set his bow his knee before,
He rode to the hind so near;
But the hind would not from the sleuth-hounds flee,
For the Knight to her was dear.
But the hounds advanced to the hind so near,
That the hind was forced to fly;
She changed herself to a little bird,
And flew high up in the sky.
Anon down flew the little bird,
Perched a linden bough upon;
Sir Orm he stood there down below,
And sorely did he moan.
Down flew the lovely little bird,
And 'gan on the bait to feast,
Which out of his bosom Sir Orm had cut,
So well it pleased her taste.
And then the lovely little bird
Dropped down on the yellow sand,
And she became the fairest damsel,
Was ever seen in the land.
The Damsel stood under the linden bough,
Freed was she now from thrall;
Sir Orm he stood so near thereby,
They related their sorrows all.
"Many thanks to thee, Sir Orm the bold
Thou'st freed me from my woe;
Except beside my snow-white side
Thou sleep shalt nevermoe."
Thanks be to him, Sir Orm the bold
He kept his faith so well;
The Monday morn thereafter
His bridal it befell.
[The end]
George Borrow's poem: The Transformed Damsel
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