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Munafa ebook

Munafa ebook

Read Ebook: Ballads from the Danish and Original Verses by Smith Dampier E M

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Ebook has 1921 lines and 181779 words, and 39 pages

"Put thou on thy scarlet cloak, And deck thy head with gold; But be thou ware of young Sir Karl, His wiles are manifold!"

She went in where the black bier stood Betwixt the tapers tall; She could not see their burning flames So fast her tears did fall.

Right soothly for his soul she prayed, All sitting at his head; "Alas! thou wast my liefest love In the days ere thou wast dead!"

She laid her face against his feet, All on the linen white-- "Oh, in the days ere thou wast dead Thou wast my heart's delight!"

Right softly then to her he spake: "Nay, cease thy bitter crying! For lo! 'tis all for love of thee That on this bier I'm lying.

"My steed stands in the cloister-garth A-tarrying all for thee, If thou now, little Kirsten, Wilt fare afar with me."

It was young Sir Karel Rose up in his shroud so white-- And as they went from the convent-door She bade them a gay good-night.

The nuns they all sat silent, Each reading on her book; They thought it was God's good angel The beauteous maid that took.

The nuns they all sat silent-- Each to herself said she: "God grant that His good angel May speedily come for me!"

The roses and the lilies all a-blowing.

THE AVENGING SWORD

Sir Peter he rode to the castle stout, The King o' the Danes he stood without.

"Welcome hither, my comrade good! Hast thou avenged thy father's blood?"

"Oh, I have been so southerly Until the sun sank down to me.

"And I have been so westerly Until the sun set close to me.

"And I have been so northerly Until the sun was frore to see.

"And I have been so easterly Until the day was fair to see.

"But never could I find the wight My father's death could rede me right."

"Say, what gift wilt give the wight Thy father's death can rede thee right?"

"Of silver he shall have his fill, And of good red gold whate'er he will."

He smiled, the king, his words to heed-- "Here stand I, that did the deed!

Sir Peter smote himself on the breast-- "Heart, be still, nor break thy rest!

"Heart, be still, bide patiently! Sure and swift shall my vengeance be!"

Alone Sir Peter stayed To speak with his good blade.

"Harken, sword so good! Wilt steep thyself in blood?

"Good brown brand, wilt fight for me? No brother have I in the world but thee."

"Say, how can I fight for thee? My good hilt lies in pieces three."

Straight to the smith he wended To have the fault amended.

He gave him iron, he gave him steel Of proof and price, the hurt to heal.

"Good brown brand, wilt fight for me? No brother have I in the world but thee."

"Deal thou thy strokes so lustily As I'll be sharp and swift for thee.

"Be thou in thy blows so bold As strongly to my hilt I'll hold."

Sir Peter went to the hall Where the knights were drinking all.

To prove his sword he was so fain, Eight of the champions there lay slain.

He struck so strong, he hewed so hard, Neither wife nor maid he spared.

Behind the arras there he thrust-- The king and his sons they bit the dust.

Up spake the babe, in cradle lay: "A red revenge dost thou wreak to-day!

"A red revenge for that sire o' thine!-- God give me a day for avenging mine!"

"And have I avenged him, sire o' mine? Thou shalt have no day for avenging thine."

He seized the babe amain, And hewed it straight in twain.

"Cease, good sword, thy thirst to slake! Bide thou still, for God his sake!"

Wearily whispered the sword and still-- "Fain of thy blood I'd have my fill!

"Hadst thou not named my name, I vow I would have slain thee, here and now!"

Forward, hurrah! ride forward.

THE AVENGING DAUGHTERS

Elder to younger said , "Sister, wilt thou not wed?"

"None will I wed while I draw breath Till I have avenged our father's death."

"Thou speak'st an idle word, We have neither mail nor sword."

"There are rich franklins dwelling hard by-- Mail will they lend us, and swords to try."

Each maiden bound a sword by her side, Featly fared they forth to ride.

When they rode to Rosy-Bower They met Sir Erland the self-same hour.

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