THE TALE OF BRYNILD
and
KING VALDEMAR AND HIS SISTER
two 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 TALE OF BRYNILD

Sivard he a colt has got,
   The swiftest ’neath the sun;
Proud Brynild from the Hill of Glass
   In open day he won.

Unto her did of knights and swains
   The very flower ride;
Not one of them the maid to win
   Could climb the mountain’s side.

The hill it was both steep and smooth;
   Upon its lofty head
Her sire had set her, knight nor swain
   He swore with her should wed.

Soon to the Danish monarch’s court
   A messenger repaired,
To know if there was any one
   To try the adventure dared.

’Twas talked about, and Sivard then
   His purpose soon made known;
Said he: “I’ll try upon my colt
   To bring Brynilda down.”

He rode away, the way was far,
   The path was of the worst;
He saw the shining Glass Hill, where
   The maid her durance curs’d.

And he away proud Brynild bore,
   Nor deemed the adventure hard;
To bold Sir Nielus her he gave
   To show him his regard.

Proud Brynild and proud Signelil
   Those maids of beauteous mien,
Down to the river’s side they went
   Their silken robes to clean.

“Now do thou hear, thou proud Brynild,
   What now I say to thee,
Where didst thou get the bright gold ring
   I on thy finger see?”

“How did I get the bright gold ring
   Which on my hand you see?
That gave me Sivard Snareswayne,
   When he betrothed me.”

“And though young Sivard gave thee that
   When he his love declar’d,
He gives thee to Sir Nielus now
   In proof of his regard.”

No sooner than did Brynild hear,
   The haughty hearted may,
Than to the chamber high she went,
   Where sick of rage she lay.

It was the proud Brynild there
   Fell sick, and moaning lay;
And her the proud Sir Nielus then
   Attended every day.

“Now hark to me, thou Brynild fair,
   My mind is ill at ease;
Know’st thou of any medicine
   Can cure thy sad disease?

“If there be aught this world within
   Can make thee cease to moan,
That thou shalt have, e’en if it cost
   All, all the gold I own.”

“I know of nought within this world
   Can do my sickness good,
Except of Sivard Snareswayne
   It be the hated blood.

“And there is nothing in this world
   Which can assuage my pain,
Except of Sivard Snareswayne
   The head I do obtain.”

“To draw of Sivard Snareswayne
   The blood I have no might;
His neck is hard as burnished steel,
   No sword thereon will bite.”

“O hark, Sir Nielus, hark to me,
   My well beloved lord,
Borrow of him his Adelring,
   His famous trusty sword.

“Tell him thou needest it so oft