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Title: The Power Of The Harp
Author: George Borrow [
More Titles by Borrow]
Sir Peter would forth from the castle ride,
Grieving and weeping did sit his young bride.
_Belov’d of my heart_, _wherefore sorrowest thou so_?
“Art grieving for saddle, or steed black or white,
Or because I have wed thee art thou in this plight?”
_Belov’d of my heart_, _wherefore sorrowest thou so_?
“I grieve not for saddle, or steed black or white,
Nor because thou hast wed me am I in this plight.”
_Belov’d of my heart_, _wherefore sorrowest thou so_?
“Dost sorrow because little wealth I have got,
Or dost sorrow because thine equal I’m not?”
_Belov’d of my heart_, _wherefore sorrowest thou so_?
“I sorrow not because little of wealth thou hast got,
Nor grieve I because thou mine equal art not.”
_Belov’d of my heart_, _wherefore sorrowest thou so_?
“Dost sorrow because thy fond father is dead,
Or dost sorrow because thou’rt no longer a maid?”
_Belov’d of my heart_, _wherefore sorrowest thou so_?
“I grieve not because my dear father is dead,
Nor sorrow I because that I am not a maid.”
_Belov’d of my heart_, _wherefore sorrowest thou so_?
“I grieve and I weep, and to grieve I have need,
I know but too well what for me is decreed.”
_Belov’d of my heart_, _wherefore sorrowest thou so_?
“For the bridge, the broad bridge, I sorrow much more,
For oh! my five sisters together fell o’er.”
_Belov’d of my heart_, _wherefore sorrowest thou so_?
“I think of the stream, and I sorrow much more,
My sisters sank in it and never rose more.”
_Belov’d of my heart_, _wherefore sorrowest thou so_?
“My dearest, my dearest, cast sorrow aside,
Before thee shall twelve of my merry men ride.”
_Belov’d of my heart_, _wherefore sorrowest thou so_?
“Before thee shall twelve of my merry men speed,
And I will myself hold the reins of thy steed.”
_Belov’d of my heart_, _wherefore sorrowest thou so_?
And when they arrived in the green forest shade
A hart they beheld at gold tables that played.
_Belov’d of my heart_, _wherefore sorrowest thou so_?
All stopped at the strange brown hart to take heed,
And allowed the young bride by herself to proceed.
_Belov’d of my heart_, _wherefore sorrowest thou so_?
And as the broad bridge she went galloping o’er,
Stumbled her steed on his golden shoes four.
_Belov’d of my heart_, _wherefore sorrowest thou so_?
Golden shoes four, each with golden nails three,
And the bride was cast into the boiling sea.
_Belov’d of my heart_, _wherefore sorrowest thou so_?
Sir Peter he turned at her terrified cry,
But the bride she had sunk ’neath the waters high.
_Belov’d of my heart_, _wherefore sorrowest thou so_?
He called to his men as their hands they wring:
“Bring quickly my harp with the golden string!”
_Belov’d of my heart_, _wherefore sorrowest thou so_?
Sir Peter began with such sweetness to play,
That the birds all sang as they sat on the spray.
_Belov’d of my heart_, _wherefore sorrowest thou so_?
The Merman rose from the depths of the sea,
And the fair young bride by the hand led he.
_Belov’d of my heart_, _wherefore sorrowest thou so_?
“Sir Peter, Sir Peter, thy playing give o’er,
Thy beautiful bride to thy arms I restore.”
_Belov’d of my heart_, _wherefore sorrowest thou so_?
“For my bonny bride only I will not give o’er,
Her five sisters also thou must restore.”
_Belov’d of my heart_, _wherefore sorrowest thou so_?
Anew ’gan Sir Peter so sweetly to play,
That the birds came down from their seat on the spray.
_Belov’d of my heart_, _wherefore sorrowest thou so_?
The Merman arose from the depth of the sea,
Five pretty maids by the hand led he.
_Belov’d of my heart_, _wherefore sorrowest thou so_?
“Sir Peter, Sir Peter, thy playing give o’er,
For in truth have I now no maidens more.”
_Belov’d of my heart_, _wherefore sorrowest thou so_?
From her anguish now is the Lady free,
In the arm of Sir Peter each night sleeps she.
_Belov’d of my heart_, _wherefore sorrowest thou so_?
[The end]
George Borrow's poem: The Power Of The Harp
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