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Title: Germand Gladenswayne
Author: George Borrow [
More Titles by Borrow]
Our King and Queen sat o’er the board
In high festivity;
Between them there was much discourse
About the briny sea.
Our gallant King and youthful Queen
They sailed across the foam;
Much better had it been for both
That they had stayed at home.
But barely they a mile had gone
When still the vessel stood,
There came a raven wild, who strove,
To sink them in the flood.
“If any thing the ship doth hold
Concealed beneath the main,
I’ll give thee, bird, a lump of gold
To set it free again.
“O do not sink us in the sea,
Swart bird,” exclaimed the Queen,
“And I’ll give thee a lump of gold
Weighs Bismer pounds fifteen.”
“Gold and silver I heed them not,
I crave another fee,
The treasure neath thy girdle fair
Thou now must promise me.
“Plenty of gold I have myself,
From gold no help you’ll find,
On what beneath your girdle’s hid
I’ve firmly set my mind.”
“I give what neath my girdle’s hid,
My bunch of keys—what more?
I’ll speedily have others forged
If I but win to shore.”
Then straight she took the little keys
And cast them overboard;
Away then flew the Raven, glad
He had obtained her word.
The Queen walks on the yellow sand,
Then o’er her came a gloom,
She felt that Germand Gladenswayne
Was quick within her womb.
And from that day when five short months
Her head had flitted o’er,
The Queen she went to the chamber high,
And a lovely son she bore.
Born was he in the evening hour,
They christened him at night;
They called him Germand Gladenswayne,
Concealed him whilst they might.
They fostered him a winter’s space,
They fostered him for nine;
The fairest youth he grew on whom
The sun did ever shine.
So well he throve, so well he grew,
His horse he well could ride,
Whene’er his mother on him gazed
So woefully she sigh’d.
“Now list to me, my mother dear,
One thing I fain would know;
Why dost thou sigh so piteously
Whene’er I past thee go?”
“Now hear thou, Germand Gladenswayne,
I’ve cause to be forlorn;
Beguiled I gave thee to a fiend
Before thou yet wast born.”
“And do thou hear, my mother dear,
All sorrow cast aside:
Whatever be the will of God
By that I must abide.”
It chanced upon a harvest morn
The breezes scarcely stirr’d,
That as the chamber door stood ope
So wild a yell was heard.
In came the laidly bird of prey,
And stood the Queen before:
“Dost thou remember, gracious Queen,
Thy gift to me of yore?”
She swore by God, and by the saints,
By all that’s good she swore,
That son nor daughter in the world
She never, never bore.
Then flew away the bird of prey,
With an eldritch shriek he’s flown:
“Whene’er I meet Germand Gladenswayne
I’ll remember he’s my own.”
When Germand fifteen years had reached
He’d fain a damsel wed;
He loved the daughter of England’s king,
The angel-lovely maid.
His longing to be with his plighted maid
He might no more withstand:
“O how shall I come across the foam
To the flood-encircled land?”
It was Germand Gladenswayne,
He donned his best array;
And he has ta’en to his mother dear
To the lofty hall his way.
In came Germand Gladenswayne,
In scarlet clad was he:
“O mother lend me thy feather robe
To fly across the sea.”
“My feather robe hangs upon the crook,
The feathers droop so low,
If thou dost fly to the foreign land
I shall see thee never moe.
“The pinions are so broad that they
Grow heavy in the air,
I’ll have another made for me
If I live another year.”
He set himself in the feather robe,
Flew o’er the ocean straight;
And there met him the raven wild,
Beneath a rock did wait.
He flew up, and he flew down,
He flew in fearless guise;
And when he reached the midst of the sea
He heard a frightful voice.
“Ha, well met, Germand Gladenswayne,
O’er long hast thou delay’d;
Thou wast but little when to me
A present thou wast made!”
“O let me fare, O let me fly,
To speak my maiden dear;
Be sure that I, when her I’ve seen,
Again will meet thee here.”
“Then I will let thee fly, but still
My mark on thee will set,
Lest thou midst knights and beauteous dames
Thy raven lord forget.”
Then out the boy’s right eye he tore,
And drank up half his blood;
But still he reached the bower of his bride,
His heart was yet so good.
He set himself by the Damsels’ bower,
All bloody and distrest;
All the dames within that were
Forgot to smile and jest.
All the damsels grew so still,
With horror sat they fast;
Except proud Damsel Adelude,
Aside her work she cast.
All the maids within forsook
Both jest and merry note;
’Twas the proud Damsel Adelude
Her hands together smote.
“Now welcome, Germand Gladenswayne,
Where hast thou been to play?
Say, why bebloodied are thy clothes,
And pale thy cheeks as clay?”
“Farewell, dear Damsel Adelude,
I soon from thee must fly;
For he must have my youthful life
Who tore from me my eye.”
Her silver handled comb she took,
And strove to comb his head;
For every hair that she did comb
A briny tear she shed.
For every lock the maiden combed
A stream of tears did run;
How often she the mother cursed
Who had betrayed her son.
It was Damsel Adelude,
She took him in her arm:
“Accursed be the wicked Dame
Who caused us all this harm.”
“Hear thou, sweet Damsel Adelude,
Curse not my mother so,
She had no power in this affair,
We all to fate must bow.”
He set him in his feather robe,
And mounted on the wind;
She set her in another robe,
And followed fast behind.
“O turn thee, Damsel Adelude,
Turn my beloved one,
Thy bower door doth open stand,
Thy keys lie on the stone.”
“Though my bower door doth open stand,
And my keys lie on the stone,
Yet I will follow thee to the place
Where harm to thee was done.”
All the birds she cut so small
She met with there on high,
Except the laidly Raven wild,
And him she could not spy.
’Twas the proud Damsel Adelude
Flew down towards the strand;
Nought found she of the Gladenswayne
Except the good right hand.
She flew so wroth the clouds below
The laidly bird to find;
She flew East, and she flew West,
To slay him she designed.
She hacked the birds into pieces three,
Before her knife that came;
But when she met the Raven wild
Into ten she hacked his frame.
And still till she of sorrow died
She flew across the heath;
It was for Germand Gladenswayne
She suffered grief and death.
[The end]
George Borrow's poem: Germand Gladenswayne
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