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Title: The Return of the Dead - and Other Ballads
Author: Borrow, George Henry, 1803-1881 [Translator], Wise, Thomas James, 1859-1937 [Editor]
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.


*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Return of the Dead - and Other Ballads" ***


Transcribed from the 1913 Thomas J. Wise pamphlet by David Price, email
ccx074@pglaf.org.  Many thanks to Norfolk and Norwich Millennium Library,
UK, for kindly supplying the images from which this transcription was
made.



                                   THE
                            RETURN OF THE DEAD
                            AND OTHER BALLADS


                                    BY
                              GEORGE BORROW

                                 LONDON:
                     PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION
                                   1913



THE RETURN OF THE DEAD


Swayne Dyring o’er to the island strayed;
   _And were I only young again_!
He wedded there a lovely maid—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

Together they lived seven years and more;
   _And were I only young again_!
And seven fair babes to him she bore—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

Then death arrived in luckless hour;
   _And were I only young again_!
Then died the lovely lily flower—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

The Swayne he has crossed the salt sea way,
   _And were I only young again_!
And he has wedded another may—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

And he that may to his home has brought;
   _And were I only young again_!
But peevish was she, and with malice fraught—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

And when she came to the castle gate,
   _And were I only young again_!
The seven children beside it wait—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

The children stood in sorrowful mood,
   _And were I only young again_!
She spurned them away with her foot so rude—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

Nor bread nor meat will she bestow;
   _And were I only young again_!
Said “Hate ye shall have and the hunger throe”—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

She took away the bolsters blue;
   _And were I only young again_!
“Bare straw will serve for the like of you”—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

Away she’s ta’en the big wax light;
   _And were I only young again_!
Said she “Ye shall lie in the murky night”—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

The babies at night with hunger weep;
   _And were I only young again_!
The woman heard that in the grave so deep—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

To God’s high throne such haste she made;
   _And were I only young again_!
“O I must go to my babies’ aid”—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

She begged so loud, and she begged so long,
   _And were I only young again_!
That at length consent from her God she wrung—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

“But thou must return when the cock shall crow,
   _And were I only young again_!
“No longer tarry must thou below”—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

Then up she struck with her stark thigh bone,
   _And were I only young again_!
And burst through wall and marble stone—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

And when to the dwelling she drew nigh,
   _And were I only young again_!
The hounds they yelled to the clouds so high—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

And when to the castle gate she won,
   _And were I only young again_!
Her eldest daughter stood there alone—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

“Hail daughter mine, what dost thou here?
   _And were I only young again_!
How fare thy brothers and sisters dear?”—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

“O dame thou art no mother of mine,
   _And were I only young again_!
For she was a lady fair and fine—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

“A lady fine with cheeks so red,
   _And were I only young again_!
But thou art pale as the sheeted dead”—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

“O how should I be fine and sleek?
   _And were I only young again_!
How else than pale should be my cheek?—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

“And how should I be white and red?
   _And were I only young again_!
Beneath the mould I’ve long been dead”—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

And when she entered the high, high hall,
   _And were I only young again_!
Drowned with tears stood the babies all—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

The one she combed, the other she brushed,
   _And were I only young again_!
The third she dandled, the fourth she hushed—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

The fifth upon her breast she plac’d,
   _And were I only young again_!
And allowed the babe of the breast to taste—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

To her eldest daughter she turned her eye;
   _And were I only young again_!
“Go call Swayne Dyring instantly”—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

And when Swayne Dyring before her stood,
   _And were I only young again_!
She spake to him thus in wrathful mood—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

“I left behind both ale and bread;
   _And were I only young again_!
My children with hunger are nearly dead—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

“I left behind me bolsters blue;
   _And were I only young again_!
Upon bare straw my babes I view—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

“I left behind the big wax light;
   _And were I only young again_!
My children lie in the murk at night—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

“If again I’m forced to seek thee here,
   _And were I only young again_!
Befall thee shall a fate so drear—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

“But hark! the ruddy cock has crow’d,
   _And were I only young again_!
The dead must return to their abode—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

“I hear, I hear the black cock crow;
   _And were I only young again_!
The gates of heaven are opening now—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

The white cock claps his wings so wide,
   _And were I only young again_!
No longer here I dare to bide”—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

Each time the dogs began to yell,
   _And were I only young again_!
They gave the children bread and ale—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

As soon as they heard of the hounds the cry,
   _And were I only young again_!
They feared the ghost was drawing nigh—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.

Whene’er the dogs were heard to rave,
   _And were I only young again_!
They feared the woman had left her grave—
   _To honied words we list so fain_.



THE TRANSFORMED DAMSEL


I take my axe upon my back,
   To fell the tree I mean;
Then came the man the wood who owned,
   And thrust his heft between.

“If thou hew down my father’s grove,
   And me this damage do,
If I but see thee fell the tree
   Thou dearly that shalt rue.”

“O let me hew this single tree,
   Nor to resist me seek;
Unless I yonder bird obtain
   With grief my heart will break.”

“Now list thou fair and gallant swain,
   To me incline thine ear!
Thou ne’er wilt yonder bird obtain
   Unless some bait thou bear.”

From off my breast the bait I cut,
   And hung it on the bough:
The breast it bled, the bait it reeked,
   Mine is the birdie now.

Down flew the lovely little bird,
   Fluttering its wings o’erjoyed;
It seemed to smile as if the guile
   It knew that I employed.

It clawed and picked so hastily,
   So well did smack the bait;
And still the more it seemed to please
   The more the birdie ate.

Down flew the lovely little bird,
   Alighting on the sand;
The loveliest damsel she became,
   And gave the youth her hand.



THE FORCED CONSENT


Within her own fair castelaye
   There goes a damsel bright;
A whole year’s tide for her has sighed
   A young and handsome knight.

“Now do thou hear, thou beauteous maid,
   Could I thy troth obtain,
Then thou shouldst tread on silk outspread,
   And ne’er on the earth again.

And do thou hear, my lovely maid,
   My wedded lady be,
And the slightest care thou shalt not bear
   If I can save it thee.”

“I’ve vowed an oath to Mary maid,
   And to keep it is my plan;
Ne’er live will I beneath the sky
   With any sinful man.

“Here with my seven brothers bold
   To-morrow I will come;
Yourself array in costly way,
   For you must follow us home.”

It was the young and handsome knight,
   He out of the doorway springs;
And he in haste the Runes has traced,
   And them on her lap she flings.

And so he cast the magic Rune
   The maiden’s dress below;
Then beat her heart, and blood did start
   From her finger nails I trow.

“If thou with thy seven brothers bold
   To-morrow here wilt come,
Myself I’ll array in costly way
   And follow ye to your home.”

The very next morn, the very next morn,
   When rose the sun in gold,
Full three times ten bold knightly men
   Were waiting on the wold.

Full three times ten bold knightly men,
   On a bonny grey steed each one;
With silk so white was the courser dight
   Which the maid should ride upon.

But what think ye that maiden did
   Ere mounting on her horse?
A draught she drank of poison rank,
   Thought death her wisest course.

Through the shallow streams they dashed their steeds,
   Through the deep their steeds they swam;
And ever and anon the maid would groan,
   “How dreadfully ill I am.”

And when they came to the house of the knight,
   Where the bridal kept should be;
Spread out on the earth was silk of worth,
   And gold so red of blee.

“Now thou may’st see, my lady love,
   That I my promise hold;
Now thou dost tread on silk outspread,
   And not on the earth so cold.”

“There’s spread enough of the silken stuff,
   And plenty of gold is strown;
But better I ween in heaven sheen
   With our Father God to wone.”

Then they led her to the high, high hall,
   And in scarlet her array’d;
But their joy was brief, soon came their grief,
   She died alack a maid!

Thanks be to him the youthful knight,
   No truer e’er was seen;
He built her a grave in the church, and gave
   The churchmen farms fifteen.

Then as he stood by the maiden’s grave,
   The gallant young noble cried:
“O would to God beneath the sod
   I were lying by her side!”



INGEBORG’S DISGUISE


Such handsome court clothes the proud Ingeborg buys,
Says she “I’ll myself as a courtier disguise.”

Proud Ingeborg hastens her steed to bestride,
Says she “I’ll away with the King to reside.”

“Thou gallant young King to my speech lend an ear,
Hast thou any need of my services here?”

“O yes, my sweet lad, of a horseboy I’ve need,
If there were but stable room here for his steed.

“But thy steed in the stall with my own can be tied,
And thou ’neath the linen shalt sleep by my side.”

Three years in the palace good service she wrought,
That she was a woman no one ever thought.

She filled for three years of a horse-boy the place,
And the steeds of the monarch she drove out to graze.

She led for three years the King’s steeds to the brook,
For else than a youth no one Ingeborg took.

Proud Ingeborg knows how to make the dames gay,
She also can sing in such ravishing way.

The hair on her head is like yellow spun gold,
To her beauty the heart of the prince was not cold.

But at length up and down in the palace she strayed,
Her colour and hair began swiftly to fade.

What eye has seen ever so wondrous a case?
The boy his own spurs to his heel cannot brace.

The horse-boy is brought to so wondrous a plight,
To draw his own weapon he has not the might.

The son of the King to five damsels now sends,
And Ingeborg fair to their care he commends.

Proud Ingeborg took they and wrapped in their weed,
And to the stone chamber with her they proceed.

Upon the blue cushions they Ingeborg laid,
Where light of two beautiful sons she is made.

Then in came the prince, smiled the babies to view:
“’Tis not every horse-boy can bear such a two.”

He patted her soft on her cheek sleek and fair:
“Forget my heart’s dearest all sorrow and care.”

He placed the gold crown on her temples I ween:
“With me shalt thou live as my wife and my Queen.”



SONG


I’ve pleasure not a little
   A dancing youth to see,
Nor less—one single tittle—
   An old man full of glee.

To dance I ever glory
   With those of youthful mien;
It shows, although I’m hoary
   In hair, my mind is green.

                                * * * * *

                                 LONDON:
               Printed for THOMAS J. WISE, Hampstead, N.W.
                   _Edition limited to Thirty copies_.





*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Return of the Dead - and Other Ballads" ***

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