Romantic Ballads [9]
to Orkney afar:
At feast and at revel, wherever she went, Her thoughts on his perils and dangers were bent; No joy has the heart that loves fondly and dear - No pleasure save when the lov'd object is near!
May Asda walk'd out in the bonny noon-tide, And roam'd where the beeches grew up in their pride; She sat herself down on the green sloping hill, Where liv'd the Erl-people, {4} and where they live still:
Then trembled the turf, as she sat in repose, And straight from the mountain three maidens arose; And with them a loom, and upon it a woof, As white as the snow when it falls on the roof.
Of red shining gold was the fairy-loom made; They sang and they danc'd, and their swift shuttles play'd; Their song was of death, and their song was of life, It sounded like billows in tumult and strife.
They gave her the woof, with a sorrowful look, And vanish'd like bubbles that burst on the brook; But deep in the mountain was heard a sweet strain, As the lady went home to her bower again.
The web was unfinish'd; she wove and she spun, Nor rested a moment, until it was done; And there was enough, when the work was complete, To form for a dead man a shirt or a sheet.
The heroes return'd from the well-foughten field, And bore home Sir Frovin's corse, laid on a shield; Sad sight for the maid! but she still was alert, And sew'd round the body the funeral shirt:
And when she had come to the very last stitch, Her feelings, so long suppress'd, rose to a pitch, The cold clammy sweat from her features outbroke; Death struck her, and meekly she bow'd to the stroke.
She rests with her lover now deep in the grave, And o'er them the beeches their mossy boughs wave; There sing the Erl-maidens their ditties aloud, And dance while the merry moon peeps from the cloud.
AAGER AND ELIZA. FROM THE OLD DANISH.
Have ye heard of bold Sir Aager, How he rode to yonder isle; There he saw the sweet Eliza, Who upon him deign'd to smile.
There he married sweet Eliza, With her lands and ruddy gold - Wo is me! the Monday after, Dead he lay beneath the mould!
In her bower sat Eliza; Rent the air with shriek and groan; All which heard the good Sir Aager, Underneath the granite stone.
Up his mighty limbs he gather'd, Took the coffin on his back; And to fair Eliza's bower Hasten'd, by the well-known track.
On her chamber's lowly portal, With his fingers long and thin, Thrice he tapp'd, and bade Eliza Straightway let her bridegroom in!
Straightway answer'd fair Eliza, "I will not undo my door Till I hear thee name sweet Jesus, As thou oft hast done before."
"Rise, O rise, my own Eliza, And undo thy chamber door; I can name the name of Jesus, As I once could do before."
Up then rose the sweet Eliza, - Up she rose, and twirl'd the pin. Straight the chamber door flew open, And the dead man glided in.
With her comb she comb'd his ringlets, For she felt but little fear: On each lock that she adjusted Fell a hot and briny tear.
"Listen, now, my good Sir Aager, Dearest bridegroom, all I crave Is to know how it goes with thee, In that lonely place, the grave?"
"Every time that thou rejoicest, And thy breast with pleasure heaves, Then that moment is my coffin Lin'd with rose and laurel leaves.
"Every time that thou art shedding From thine eyes the briny flood, Then that moment is my coffin Fill'd with black and loathsome blood.
"Heard I not the red cock crowing, Distant far upon the wind? Down to dust the dead are going, And I may not stop behind.
"Heaven's ruddy portals open, - Daylight bursts upon my view; Though the word be hard to utter, I must bid thee, love, adieu!"
Up his mighty limbs he gather'd, Took the coffin on his back, To the church-yard straight he hasten'd By the well-known, beaten, track.
Up then rose the sweet Eliza; Tear-drops on her features stood, While her lover she attended Through the dark and dreary wood.
When they reach'd the lone enclosure, (Last, sad, refuge of the dead) - From the cheeks of good Sir Aager All the lovely colour fled:
"Listen, now, my sweet Eliza,
At feast and at revel, wherever she went, Her thoughts on his perils and dangers were bent; No joy has the heart that loves fondly and dear - No pleasure save when the lov'd object is near!
May Asda walk'd out in the bonny noon-tide, And roam'd where the beeches grew up in their pride; She sat herself down on the green sloping hill, Where liv'd the Erl-people, {4} and where they live still:
Then trembled the turf, as she sat in repose, And straight from the mountain three maidens arose; And with them a loom, and upon it a woof, As white as the snow when it falls on the roof.
Of red shining gold was the fairy-loom made; They sang and they danc'd, and their swift shuttles play'd; Their song was of death, and their song was of life, It sounded like billows in tumult and strife.
They gave her the woof, with a sorrowful look, And vanish'd like bubbles that burst on the brook; But deep in the mountain was heard a sweet strain, As the lady went home to her bower again.
The web was unfinish'd; she wove and she spun, Nor rested a moment, until it was done; And there was enough, when the work was complete, To form for a dead man a shirt or a sheet.
The heroes return'd from the well-foughten field, And bore home Sir Frovin's corse, laid on a shield; Sad sight for the maid! but she still was alert, And sew'd round the body the funeral shirt:
And when she had come to the very last stitch, Her feelings, so long suppress'd, rose to a pitch, The cold clammy sweat from her features outbroke; Death struck her, and meekly she bow'd to the stroke.
She rests with her lover now deep in the grave, And o'er them the beeches their mossy boughs wave; There sing the Erl-maidens their ditties aloud, And dance while the merry moon peeps from the cloud.
AAGER AND ELIZA. FROM THE OLD DANISH.
Have ye heard of bold Sir Aager, How he rode to yonder isle; There he saw the sweet Eliza, Who upon him deign'd to smile.
There he married sweet Eliza, With her lands and ruddy gold - Wo is me! the Monday after, Dead he lay beneath the mould!
In her bower sat Eliza; Rent the air with shriek and groan; All which heard the good Sir Aager, Underneath the granite stone.
Up his mighty limbs he gather'd, Took the coffin on his back; And to fair Eliza's bower Hasten'd, by the well-known track.
On her chamber's lowly portal, With his fingers long and thin, Thrice he tapp'd, and bade Eliza Straightway let her bridegroom in!
Straightway answer'd fair Eliza, "I will not undo my door Till I hear thee name sweet Jesus, As thou oft hast done before."
"Rise, O rise, my own Eliza, And undo thy chamber door; I can name the name of Jesus, As I once could do before."
Up then rose the sweet Eliza, - Up she rose, and twirl'd the pin. Straight the chamber door flew open, And the dead man glided in.
With her comb she comb'd his ringlets, For she felt but little fear: On each lock that she adjusted Fell a hot and briny tear.
"Listen, now, my good Sir Aager, Dearest bridegroom, all I crave Is to know how it goes with thee, In that lonely place, the grave?"
"Every time that thou rejoicest, And thy breast with pleasure heaves, Then that moment is my coffin Lin'd with rose and laurel leaves.
"Every time that thou art shedding From thine eyes the briny flood, Then that moment is my coffin Fill'd with black and loathsome blood.
"Heard I not the red cock crowing, Distant far upon the wind? Down to dust the dead are going, And I may not stop behind.
"Heaven's ruddy portals open, - Daylight bursts upon my view; Though the word be hard to utter, I must bid thee, love, adieu!"
Up his mighty limbs he gather'd, Took the coffin on his back, To the church-yard straight he hasten'd By the well-known, beaten, track.
Up then rose the sweet Eliza; Tear-drops on her features stood, While her lover she attended Through the dark and dreary wood.
When they reach'd the lone enclosure, (Last, sad, refuge of the dead) - From the cheeks of good Sir Aager All the lovely colour fled:
"Listen, now, my sweet Eliza,