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Title: Little Danneved And Swayne Trost
Author: George Borrow [
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“O what shall I in Denmark do?
To bear your armour I’m too weak;
The Danish warriors jeer at me,
Because their tongue I cannot speak.”
It was the young Danneved,
He bade them saddle his courser grey:
“O I will ride to Borrebye,
And a visit to my mother pay.”
O clinking were his spurs so keen,
And swiftly sped his horse along;
At Lundy Kirk in Skaaney land
He stopped to hear the matin song.
O first he heard the matin song,
To hear nine masses stopped he then;
And now it lists young Danneved
To mount upon his steed again.
Out spake Oluf, the aged and good,
He was I ween the parish priest:
“I beg of thee, little Danneved,
To be this day my honoured guest.”
“This day I’ll break with no man bread,
Nor drink a drop of rosy wine,
Until I come to Borrebye,
And hold discourse with mother mine.”
“Now hear me, dearest Danneved,
Give o’er, I beg, thy purpose straight;
So many of thy enemies
Before the town in ambush wait.”
“O first I trust in my faulchion good,
And then I trust in my courser tall,
And next to them in my merry swains,
But in my own self most of all.”
“’Tis well to trust in thy faulchion good,
’Tis well to trust in thy courser tall,
But do not trust in thy merry swains,
For they’ll deceive thee first of all.”
It was little Danneved,
Abroad before the town he came;
And there met him his enemies,
Thrice nine in number were the same.
So numerous were these enemies,
For him that did in ambush lie,
All Danneved’s swains they took their leave,
And from their lord did basely fly.
All his merry men took their leave,
And from their master basely flew,
Except the young Swayne Trost alone,
He with his lord took on anew.
“O I, my Lord, your clothes have worn,
And ridden have I, my Lord, your steed,
And I will stand by you to-day,
Nor leave you in your greatest need.
“O I have taken your silver and gold,
And I have eaten of your bread,
And I’ll not budge from you to-day,
Although my life-blood I should shed.”
So they their backs together placed,
Master and man, in the forest green;
And in the early morning tide
They of the foemen slew fifteen.
Then they their backs together placed,
Where thick and high the bushes were;
They twain alone full thirty slew,
Acquiring honour ever fair.
It was the young Danneved,
To his side his trusty faulchion tied;
And now they both so joyously
Home to his mother’s castle ride.
It was the young Danneved,
Came riding to the Castellaye;
It was then his mother dear
Came out to meet him, blythe and gay.
“Be welcome, little Danneved,
Be welcome to this house of mine;
What doth it please thee now to drink?
O, say, shall it be mead or wine?”
“O, I will ne’er break bread with you,
Or drink a drop of mead or wine,
’Till thou hast given the young Swayne Trost
Fair Ellen, only sister mine.”
“And do thou hear, my dearest son,
Hear what I now declare to thee;
As God shall help me in my need,
Brothers of Ellen both ye be.”
“Now do thou hear, my mother dear,
Thou’st not to me the truth declar’d;
Where didst thou bear the young Swayne Trost,
That of his birth I never heard?”
“O he was but a little child,
When him from out the land I sent;
And, hearing it said that he was dead,
To none I did my loss lament.”
Then up spoke little Danneved,
He was the son of a knight so high:
“Now I have such a brother found,
I never more will grieve or sigh.
“God’s blessing upon thee, young Swayne Trost,
To thee my troth I now will give;
I’ll ne’er deceive thee, young Swayne Trost,
As long as I on earth shall live.”
Little Danneved and young Swayne Trost,
In sables and mard themselves array;
And both of them took so joyously
To the imperial Court their way.
[The end]
George Borrow's poem: Little Danneved And Swayne Trost
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