The Wicked-Stepmother

________________________________________________
Title:     The Wicked-Stepmother
Author: George Borrow [More Titles by Borrow]

No. II.

Sir Peter o'er to the island strayed--
_All underneath a linden wide_.
He weds Mettelil, so fair a maid--
_In such peril with her through the forest ride_.

Bracelets of gold he given her hath,
That fills his mother's breast with wrath.

"If thou wed a maid against my desire,
With her first babe she shall expire!"

He weds her and home he her has ta'en,
To meet her his mother will not deign.

When they together a year had dwelt,
Herself with child proud Mettelil felt.

Out and in they Mettelil bear,
Death has to her approached so near.

"Since neither live nor die I may,
Take me whence a maid ye brought me away."

Thereto the Stepmother made reply,
She was tow'rds her disposed maliciously:

"The horses graze upon the mead,
And the coach swains heavy they sleep in bed."

Sir Peter he stood a little apart,
Mettelil has so grieved his heart.

The coach to her country was turned in haste,
And the horses before it were quickly placed.

And when they came to the verdant moor,
Her chariot broke into pieces four.

"What mighty crime can I have done,
That my own coach 'neath me will not run?"

Sir Peter at no great distance hied,
He was so near he all espied.

"We forthwith will find a remedy,
Thou shalt ride and walk will I."

"Each noble Dame will know how fit,
I am in this plight in the saddle to sit."

Proud Mettelil came to her father's abode,
Her father abroad to receive her strode.

"Welcome, Mettelil, daughter mine,
How speedest thou with that burden of thine?"

"So speeding am I, such plight I am in,
That upon this earth no rest can I win."

Little Kirsten a may was of goodness rife,
Dearly she loved her brother's wife.

She to her brother was true of heart,
Of wax two babes she formed with art.

She wrapt them up in the linen fair,
And took them beneath her cloak with care.

She took them beneath her cloak with care,
And them to her mother she straightway bare.

"My dearest mother, no longer grieve,
The babes of your son in your arms receive."

"Has Mettelil forth these little sons brought?
Then my dark Runes have availed nought.

"Air and earth I have spelled, save the spot alone,
The little spot, my chest stood upon.

"Oh I enchanted have as wide
As she could either walk or ride.

"I have enchanted both earth and wood,
Save the spot whereon my chest it stood."

No sooner she the words had said,
Than proud Mettelil on the place was laid.

And when she had come where stood the chest,
Straight of two sons was she released.

That Sir Peter's mother so mortified,
Full quickly of rage and spite she died.

[The end]
George Borrow's poem: The Wicked-Stepmother

________________________________________________



GO TO TOP OF SCREEN