ULF VAN YERN
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.

ULF VAN YERN

It was youthful Ulf Van Yern
   Goes before the King to stand:
“To avenge my father’s death
   Lend me warriors of thy band.”

“Of my kemps I’ll lend thee them
   Who to follow thee consent;
Ask’st thou Vidrik Verlandson
   Thou wilt further thy intent.

“I will lend thee of my men,
   Thou shalt have the very flower;
Vidrik, and stark Diderik,
   Many kemps have felt their power.

“They are heroes strong and bold
   Who have battles often won;
Feared are they in every land
   Where their names’ renown has gone.”

In walked he, the good Dane King,
   Glittering like the morning star:
“Which of ye, my Danish swains,
   Will attend my friend to war?”

Stalked the King along the floor,
   Bore a gold cup in his hand:
“Which of ye, my courtmen, will,
   Follow Wolf with shield and brand?”

To their mouths their hats they held,
   None to answer him made haste,
Save bold Vidrik Verlandson,
   Of them all he made a jest.

It was Vidrik Verlandson
   Of his comrades made a sport:
“Sure ’tis but to guzzle mead
   We are gathered here at court.”

Wrathful Diderik straight became,
   Frantic at that word he grew;
Off he smote two warriors’ heads,
   At the King’s foot them he threw.

Then spake Vidrik Verlandson,
   His whole thought on honor lies:
“We’ll dispatch our messenger
   And not go in stealthy guise.”

It was youthful Hammergray
   Hurried from the city gate;
Every one on him that looked
   Lost his voice and colour straight.

Hark away, young Hammergray,
   Gold is glittering on thy breast;
Ne’er was found or hawk or hound
   Could with Hammer’s speed contest.

Pearls upon his bosom shone,
   Folks thereat astounded gaze:
Fowl was none beneath the sun
   Could with youthful Hammer race.

Swift into the King’s high hill
   Bounded youthful Hammergray:
He was nimble at the tongue,
   And could speak in gallant way.

“King of Brattens Vendel, hail!
   And the rest that fill your hall;
Ulf Van Yern to-morrow comes
   To avenge his father’s fall.”

“Better had he be at home
   Tending sheep beneath the height,
Better than a message send
   That he thither comes to fight.

“Better had he crawl at home
   Like a worm the rock beneath,
Than the war-like struggle dare
   Where his father sank in death.

“He at home had better stay,
   Crouch and shake the bush below;
One blow only stood his sire,
   He’ll not stand me half a blow.”

“King of Brattens Vendel, hear,
   Keep your tongue behind your tooth;
Quickly grows the young whelp up,
   Full of threatening fangs his mouth.”