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Title: Kragelill
Author: George Borrow [
More Titles by Borrow]
'Twas noised about, 'twas noised about,
Full far 'twas noised I ween;
King Sigurd has his daughter lost,
She stolen from him has been.
It was gallant King Sigurd then
His bonnet he put on;
And he away to the high, high hall
To his courtmen and knights is gone.
They cast the die upon the board,
The die it rolled around;
It fell upon Regnfred, the King's son,
He to seek the maid is bound.
About the world for one winter,
And for winters five he sought;
But he in all that weary tide
Could hear of the maiden nought.
It was Regnfred, the King's son,
Through the green wood rode his way;
And there met him a little stranger lad,
About the break of day.
"Now do thou hear, thou stranger lad,
All that I say to thee;
The very next maid that thou know'st of
Do thou shew unto me."
"And do thou hear, thou fair young swain
I pray I may not offend,
But the very next maid that I know of
Sir Tabor's goats doth tend.
"Her kirtle is of kid-skin made,
Her mantle of wadmal grey,
Her locks, which shine like gleamy gold,
Adown her shoulders stray."
Then he rode o'er the meadows green,
And through the brake and thorn,
And there did he the maiden find,
She drove her goats from the corn.
He took her tenderly in his arm,
Kissed her on her cheek so fair:
"I entreat thee now by the highest God,
Thy father to me declare."
"An ancient man my father is,
Tends goats in the morass;
Kragelill I myself am called,
Can I boast of my birth, alas!"
It was Regnfred, the King's son,
In haste drew out his knife:
"Thou shalt to me thy father name,
Or thou shall lose thy life."
"Sigurd the King my father is,
His Queen my mother dear;
And I myself am Swanelill,
Name fitting for me to bear."
Then o'er her threw the mantle blue
Regnfred, the King's good son;
He lifted her so courteously
His courser grey upon.
And he rode o'er the meadows green,
And over the plains so wide;
Behind him came running an ancient man,
And so loud on Kragelill cried.
But the swain gave him both silver and gold,
Contented away he hied;
Then he unhindered did carry the maid
To her father's halls of pride.
Now has Regnfred, the King's son,
O'ercome his dire distress;
He sleeps each night so joyously
In the arms of his princess.
And now is Damsel Swanelill
To kith and kin restored;
So joyously she sleeps each night
With Regnfred her wedded lord.
[The end]
George Borrow's poem: Kragelill
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