Proud Signild

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Title:     Proud Signild
Author: George Borrow [More Titles by Borrow]

Proud Signild's bold brothers have taken her hand,
They've wedded her into a far distant land.

They've wedded her far from her own native land,
To her father's foul murderer gave they her hand.

And so for eight winters the matter it stood,
Their face for eight winters she never once view'd.

Proud Signild she brews, and the ruddy wine blends;
To her brothers so courteous a bidding she sends.

Sir Loumor then laughed to his heart's very core--
Not once had he laughed for eight winters before.

To the top of the castle proud Signild she goes,
And thence she so many a wistful look throws.

And now she perceives down the green hillock's side
Her seven bold brothers so furiously ride.

Proud Signild she stands on the castle's high peak,
She hears in the courtyard her seven brothers speak.

Proud Signild she hastes her array to put on,
And unto the hall to Sir Loumor she's gone.

"Now hear thou, Sir Loumor, thou lord, great and fine,
"Wilt welcome these seven bold brothers of mine?"

"I'll welcome these seven bold brothers of thine,
Proud Signild, as if they were brothers of mine."

Sir Loumor again a wild laughter outsent,
And the hard marble wall by that laughter was rent.

Then outspake the child in the cradle that lay,
No word had the child ever spoke till that day:

"It shows that no good is about to take place,
When my father he laughs in my dear mother's face."

With his foot he the cradle has spurned with such force
That out rolled the baby, a blood-besprent corse.

So matters passed on 'till of evening the fall,
To the evening repast the relations went all.

Sir Loumor her lord she placed at the board's head,
To the stools at the bottom her brothers she led.

To Sir Loumor she handed the stout ruddy wine,
To her brothers she only sweet milk will assign.

Sir Loumor pretended to drink deep and fast,
But in secret the wine down beneath him he cast.

Proud Signild now to the bed chamber wends,
And the bed she prepares for her dear-beloved friends.

The bed she outspreads on the hard rugged stone,
And that to prevent them from sleeping was done.

And under their sides she placed slily their knives,
Which well they might trust in defence of their lives.

She also has placed underneath their bed heads
Their actons of steel, and their keen naked blades.

'Twas late, late at night, and the lights were burnt low,
And away to their couches it lists them to go.

No sooner proud Signild had sunk to repose,
Than from her white side dread Sir Loumor arose.

To the hall, the dark hall, took Sir Loumor his way,
Proud Signild's seven brothers intending to slay.

To the side of the bed upon tip toe he drew,
And the seven bold brothers he traitorously slew.

In his fell hand uptakes he both faulchion and knife,
And each of the sleepers deprived he of life.

In a bowl he collects of the murdered the gore,
And that he brings in the proud Signild before.

In, in at the door-way Sir Loumor he sped,
From Signild's cheek faded the beautiful red.

"Sir Loumor, my lord, thy looks fill me with fright,
Say where hast thou been in the midst of the night?"

"I've been to the hall, if the truth I must tell,
I heard my two hunting hawks screech there, and yell."

"O why of thy hawks art thou talking, my lord?
May God in his mercy my dears brothers guard."

Sir Loumor produced of her brothers the gore,
And that by her foot he has placed on the floor.

"Now drink thou, proud Signild, my much beloved Dame,
This blood from the veins of thy brothers that came."

"With a terrible thirst I must needs be distrest,
When I, O Sir Loumor, obey thy behest.

"But to bed and to sleep, my dear lord, now repair,
Full little, be sure for my brothers I care.

"I care not although all my kindred are slain,
Since thee, my heart's dearest, alive I retain."

So things in this fashion for eight winters stood,
And Sir Loumor his brothers and sisters ne'er view'd.

Sir Loumor he brews, and the ruddy wine blends,
To his brothers and sisters a bidding he sends.

Then laughed the proud Signild, that dame fair of face,
And the first time it was for full eight winters space.

Sir Loumor's relations she placed at the board,
And she handed them mead with so many a fair word.

Of the wine, the clear wine, drank Sir Loumor so free,
For his life not the slightest precaution took he.

On the soft down she spread their beds high from the ground,
She wished to procure for them slumbers so sound.

She spread out their beds on the bolsters of blue,
Thereon with her fingers the sleep runes she drew.

No sooner Sir Loumor had sunk to repose,
Than from his embrace the proud Signild arose.

From out of a corner she took a keen sword,
She'll awake with its point the dear kin of her lord.

To the sleeping apartment proud Signild then sped,
And straightway his five belov'd brothers slew dead.

Though her heart it was sad, and the tears in her eyes,
His three belov'd sisters she slew in like guise.

Then swift in a bowl she collects the red gore,
And that she brought in good Sir Loumor before.

She took off the chaplet her brow from around,
And firmly the hands of Sir Loumor she bound.

"Now wake thou, Sir Loumor, and speak to thy wife,
I'll not, whilst thou sleepest, deprive thee of life.

"Now drink, O Sir Loumor, the kind and the good,
Drink, drink thy dear brothers' and sisters' heart's blood."

"O sore would the thirst be, O Signild, full sore,
That ever could tempt me to drink of that gore.

"Thyself to thy bed, my sweet Signild, betake,
For the death of my kindred my heart will not break."

Sir Loumor sought after his trusty brown brand,
And found to his fear he was bound foot and hand.

"O Signild, proud Signild, I pray thee now spare,
And aye to be kind to thee, Signild, I swear."

"Methinks that thou didst little kindness display,
The time thou my father didst murderously slay!

"Thou slewest my father with treacherous glaive,
And then my dear brothers, so beauteous and brave.

"Then hope not for mercy, on vengeance I'm bent,
Because all I cherished from me thou hast rent."

Then she drew forth the knife from her sleeve bloody red,
And Sir Loumor she stabbed till the life from him fled.

Then out from its cradle the little child spake:
"That deed, if I live, I will some day ywrake."

"I know that thou art of the very same blood,
And I never expect thou to me wilt be good."

The child by the small of the leg she has ta'en,
And against the bed side she has beat out its brain.

"Now I, the proud Signild, have slain man for man,
And I'll hie me away to my land and my clan."

[The end]
George Borrow's poem: Proud Signild

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