The Brother Avenged, by George Borrow

Transcribed from the 1913 Thomas J. Wise pamphlet by David Price, email [email protected]

THE BROTHER AVENGED
and
OTHER BALLADS

by
GEORGE BORROW

London:
printed for private circulation

1913

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

THE BROTHER AVENGED

I stood before my master’s board,
   The skinker’s office plying;
The herald-men brought tidings then
   That my brother was murdered lying.

I followed my lord unto his bed,
   By his dearest down he laid him;
Then my courser out of the stall I led,
   And with saddle and bit arrayed him.

I sprang upon my courser’s back,
   With the spur began to goad him;
And ere I drew his bridle to,
   Full fifteen leagues I rode him.

And when I came to the noisy hall
   Where the Kemps carouse were keeping,
O then I saw my mother dear
   O’er the corse of my brother weeping.

Then I laid an arrow on my good bow,
   The bow that never deceived me;
And straight I shot the King’s Kempions twelve,
   Of my brother who had bereaved me.

And then to the Ting I rode away,
   Where the judges twelve were seated;
Of six to avenge my brother I begged,
   And of six protection entreated.

For the third time rode I to the Ting,
   For deep revenge I lusted;
Up stood the liege-man of the King,
   And at me fiercely thrusted.

Up stood the liege-man of the King,
   With a furious thrust toward me;
And the Judges twelve rose in the Ting,
   And an outlaw’d man declared me.

Then I laid an arrow on my good bow,
   And the bow to its utmost bent I;
And into the heart of the King’s liege-man
   The sharp, sharp arrow sent I.

Then away from the Ting amain I sped,
   And my good steed clomb in hurry;
There was nothing for me but to hasten and flee,
   And myself ’mong the woods to bury.

And hidden for eight long years I lay
   Amid the woods so lonely;
I’d nothing to eat in that dark retreat
   But grass and green leaves only.

I’d nothing to eat in that dark retreat,
   Save the grass and leaves I devoured;
No bed-fellows crept to the place where I slept,
   But bears that brooned and roared.

So near at hand was the holy tide
   Of our Lady of mercies tender;
The King of the Swedes his followers leads,
   And rides to the Church in splendour.

So I laid an arrow on my good bow,
   As I looked from the gap so narrow;
And into the heart of the Swedish King
   I sent the yard-long arrow.

Now lies on the ground the Swedish King,
   And the blood from his death-wound showers;
So blythe is my breast, though still I must rest
   Amid the forest bowers.

THE EYES