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The Tale of Brynild, and King Valdemar and his Sister Two Ballads   By: (1803-1881)

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Transcribed from the 1913 Thomas J. Wise pamphlet by David Price, email Many thanks to Norfolk and Norwich Millennium Library, UK, for kindly supplying the images from which this transcription was made.




Copyright in the United States of America by Houghton , Mifflin & Co. for Clement Shorter .


Sivard he a colt has got, The swiftest ’neath the sun; Proud Brynild from the Hill of Glass In open day he won.

Unto her did of knights and swains The very flower ride; Not one of them the maid to win Could climb the mountain’s side.

The hill it was both steep and smooth; Upon its lofty head Her sire had set her, knight nor swain He swore with her should wed.

Soon to the Danish monarch’s court A messenger repaired, To know if there was any one To try the adventure dared.

’Twas talked about, and Sivard then His purpose soon made known; Said he: “I’ll try upon my colt To bring Brynilda down.”

He rode away, the way was far, The path was of the worst; He saw the shining Glass Hill, where The maid her durance curs’d.

And he away proud Brynild bore, Nor deemed the adventure hard; To bold Sir Nielus her he gave To show him his regard.

Proud Brynild and proud Signelil Those maids of beauteous mien, Down to the river’s side they went Their silken robes to clean.

“Now do thou hear, thou proud Brynild, What now I say to thee, Where didst thou get the bright gold ring I on thy finger see?”

“How did I get the bright gold ring Which on my hand you see? That gave me Sivard Snareswayne, When he betrothed me.”

“And though young Sivard gave thee that When he his love declar’d, He gives thee to Sir Nielus now In proof of his regard.”

No sooner than did Brynild hear, The haughty hearted may, Than to the chamber high she went, Where sick of rage she lay.

It was the proud Brynild there Fell sick, and moaning lay; And her the proud Sir Nielus then Attended every day.

“Now hark to me, thou Brynild fair, My mind is ill at ease; Know’st thou of any medicine Can cure thy sad disease?

“If there be aught this world within Can make thee cease to moan, That thou shalt have, e’en if it cost All, all the gold I own.”

“I know of nought within this world Can do my sickness good, Except of Sivard Snareswayne It be the hated blood.

“And there is nothing in this world Which can assuage my pain, Except of Sivard Snareswayne The head I do obtain.”

“To draw of Sivard Snareswayne The blood I have no might; His neck is hard as burnished steel, No sword thereon will bite.”

“O hark, Sir Nielus, hark to me, My well beloved lord, Borrow of him his Adelring, His famous trusty sword.

“Tell him thou needest it so oft When thou dost wage a fight, But soon as ’tis within thy hand Hew off his head outright.”

It was the bold Sir Nielus then His mantle puts he on; To Sivard, his companion true, To the high hall he’s gone.

“Now hear, O Sivard Snareswayne, Thy sword unto me lend, For I unto the field of fight Full soon my course must bend.”

“My trusty faulchion Adelring I’ll freely lend to thee; No man be sure shall thee o’ercome, However strong he be.

“My trusty faulchion Adelring To thee I’ll freely yield, But, oh! beware thee of the tears Beneath the hilt conceal’d... Continue reading book >>

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