Chapter 6

Ah thus, only thus shall I see her, in dreams of the day or the night, When my soul is beguiled of its sorrow to remember past delight. She is gone. She was and she is not; there is no such thing on the earth But e'en as a picture painted; and for me there is void and dearth That I cannot name or measure. Yet for me and all these she died, E'en as she lived for awhile, that the better day might betide. Therefore I live, and I shall live till the last day's work shall fail. Have patience now but a little and I will tell you the tale Of how and why she died, And why I am weak and worn, And have wandered away to the meadows and the place where I was born; But here and to-day I cannot; for ever my thought will stray To that hope fulfilled for a little and the bliss of the earlier day. Of the great world's hope and anguish to-day I scarce can think; Like a ghost, from the lives of the living and their earthly deeds I shrink. I will go adown by the water and over the ancient bridge, And wend in our footsteps of old till I come to the sun-burnt ridge, And the great trench digged by the Romans; and thence awhile will I gaze, And see three teeming counties stretch out till they fade in the haze; And in all the dwellings of man that thence mine eyes shall see, What man as hapless as I am beneath the sun shall be?

O fool, what words are these? Thou hast a sorrow to nurse, And thou hast been bold and happy; but these, if they utter a curse, No sting it has and no meaning, it is empty sound on the air. Thy life is full of mourning, and theirs so empty and bare, That they have no words of complaining; nor so happy have they been That they may measure sorrow or tell what grief may mean.

And thou; thou hast deeds to do, and toil to meet thee soon; Depart and ponder on these through the sun-worn afternoon.

MINE AND THINE

FROM A FLEMISH POEM OF THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY

Two words about the world we see, And nought but Mine and Thine they be. Ah! might we drive them forth and wide With us should rest and peace abide; All free, nought owned of goods and gear, By men and women though it were. Common to all all wheat and wine Over the seas and up the Rhine. No manslayer then the wide world o'er When Mine and Thine are known no more. Yea, God, well counselled for our health, Gave all this fleeting earthly wealth A common heritage to all, That men might feed them therewithal, And clothe their limbs and shoe their feet And live a simple life and sweet. But now so rageth greediness That each desireth nothing less Than all the world, and all his own; And all for him and him alone.

THE LAY OF CHRISTINE

TRANSLATED FROM THE ICELANDIC

Of silk my gear was shapen, Scarlet they did on me, Then to the sea-strand was I borne And laid in a bark of the sea. _O well were I from the World away._

Befell it there I might not drown, For God to me was good; The billows bare me up a-land Where grew the fair green-wood. _O well were I from the World away._

There came a Knight a-riding With three swains along the way, And he took me up, the little-one, On the sea-sand as I lay. _O well were I from the World away._

He took me up, and bare me home To the house that was his own, And there bode I so long with him That I was his love alone. _O well were I from the World away._

But the very first night we lay abed Befell his sorrow and harm, That thither came the King's ill men, And slew him on mine arm. _O well were I from the World away._

There slew they Adalbright the King, Two of his swains slew they, But the third sailed swiftly from the land Sithence I saw him never a day. _O well were I from the World away._

O wavering hope of this world's bliss, How shall men trow in thee? My Grove of Gems is gone away For mine eyes no more to see! _O well were I from the World away._

Each hour the while my life shall last Remembereth him alone, Such heavy sorrow have I got From our meeting long agone. _O well were I from the World away._

O, early in the morning-tide Men cry: "Christine the fair, Art thou well content with that true love Thou sittest loving there?" _O well were I from the World away._

"Ah, yea, so well I love him, And so dear my love shall be, That the very God of Heaven aloft Worshippeth him and me. _O well were I from the World away._

"Ah, all the red gold I have got Well would I give to-day, Only for this and nothing else From the world to win away." _O well were I from the World away._

"Nay, midst all folk upon the earth Keep thou thy ruddy gold, And love withal the mighty lord That wedded thee of old." _O well were I from the World away._

HILDEBRAND AND HELLELIL

TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH

Hellelil sitteth in bower there, _None knows my grief but God alone,_ And seweth at the seam so fair, _I never wail my sorrow to any other one._

But there whereas the gold should be With silk upon the cloth sewed she.

Where she should sew with silken thread The gold upon the cloth she laid.

So to the Queen the word came in That Hellelil wild work doth win.

Then did the Queen do furs on her And went to Hellelil the fair.

"O swiftly sewest thou, Hellelil, Yet nought but mad is thy sewing still!"

"Well may my sewing be but mad Such evil hap as I have had.

My father was good king and lord, Knights fifteen served before his board.

He taught me sewing royally, Twelve knights had watch and ward of me.

Well served eleven day by day, To folly the twelfth did me bewray.

And this same was hight Hildebrand, The King's son of the English Land.

But in bower were we no sooner laid Than the truth thereof to my father was said.

Then loud he cried o'er garth and hall: 'Stand up, my men, and arm ye all!

'Yea draw on mail and dally not, Hard neck lord Hildebrand hath got!'

They stood by the door with glaive and spear; 'Hildebrand rise and hasten here!'

Lord Hildebrand stroked my white white cheek: 'O love, forbear my name to speak.

'Yea even if my blood thou see, Name me not, lest my death thou be.'

Out from the door lord Hildebrand leapt, And round about his good sword swept.

The first of all that he slew there Were my seven brethren with golden hair.

Then before him stood the youngest one, And dear he was in the days agone.

Then I cried out: 'O Hildebrand, In the name of God now stay thine hand.

'O let my youngest brother live Tidings hereof to my mother to give!'

No sooner was the word gone forth Than with eight wounds fell my love to earth.

My brother took me by the golden hair, And bound me to the saddle there.

There met me then no littlest root, But it tore off somewhat of my foot.

No littlest brake the wild-wood bore, But somewhat from my legs it tore.

No deepest dam we came unto But my brother's horse he swam it through

But when to the castle gate we came, There stood my mother in sorrow and shame.

My brother let raise a tower high, Bestrewn with sharp thorns inwardly.

He took me in my silk shirt bare And cast me into that tower there.

And wheresoe'er my legs I laid Torment of the thorns I had.

Wheresoe'er on feet I stood The prickles sharp drew forth my blood.

My youngest brother me would slay, But my mother would have me sold away.

A great new bell my price did buy In Mary's Church to hang on high.

But the first stroke that ever it strake My mother's heart asunder brake."

So soon as her sorrow and woe was said, _None knows my grief but God alone,_ In the arm of the Queen she sat there dead, _I never tell my sorrow to any other one._

THE SON'S SORROW

FROM THE ICELANDIC

The King has asked of his son so good, "Why art thou hushed and heavy of mood? _O fair it is to ride abroad._ Thou playest not, and thou laughest not; All thy good game is clean forgot."

"Sit thou beside me, father dear, And the tale of my sorrow shalt thou hear.

Thou sendedst me unto a far-off land, And gavest me into a good Earl's hand.

Now had this good Earl daughters seven, The fairest of maidens under heaven.

One brought me my meat when I should dine, One cut and sewed my raiment fine.

One washed and combed my yellow hair, And one I fell to loving there.

Befell it on so fair a day, We minded us to sport and play.

Down in a dale my horse bound I, Bound on my saddle speedily.

Bright red she was as the flickering flame When to my saddle-bow she came.

Beside my saddle-bow she stood, 'To flee with thee to my heart were good.'

Kind was my horse and good to aid, My love upon his back I laid.

We gat us from the garth away, And none was ware of us that day.

But as we rode along the sand Behold a barge lay by the land.

So in that boat did we depart, And rowed away right glad at heart.

When we came to the dark wood and the shade To raise the tent my true-love bade.

Three sons my true-love bore me there, And syne she died who was so dear.

A grave I wrought her with my sword, With my fair shield the mould I poured.

First in the mould I laid my love, Then all my sons her breast above.

And I without must lie alone; So from the place I gat me gone."

No man now shall stand on his feet To love that love, to woo that sweet: _O fair it is to ride abroad._

AGNES AND THE HILL-MAN

TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH

Agnes went through the meadows a-weeping, _Fowl are a-singing._ There stood the hill-man heed thereof keeping. _Agnes, fair Agnes!_ "Come to the hill, fair Agnes, with me, The reddest of gold will I give unto thee!"

Twice went Agnes the hill round about, Then wended within, left the fair world without.

In the hillside bode Agnes, three years thrice told o'er, For the green earth sithence fell she longing full sore.

There she sat, and lullaby sang in her singing, And she heard how the bells of England were ringing.

Agnes before her true-love did stand: "May I wend to the church of the English Land?"

"To England's Church well mayst thou be gone, So that no hand thou lay the red gold upon.

"So that when thou art come the churchyard anear, Thou cast not abroad thy golden hair.

"So that when thou standest the church within, To thy mother on bench thou never win.

"So that when thou hearest the high God's name, No knee unto earth thou bow to the same."

Hand she laid on all gold that was there, And cast abroad her golden hair.

And when the church she stood within, To her mother on bench straight did she win.

And when she heard the high God's name, Knee unto earth she bowed to the same.

When all the mass was sung to its end, Home with her mother dear did she wend.

"Come, Agnes, into the hillside to me, For thy seven small sons greet sorely for thee!"

"Let them greet, let them greet, as they have will to do; For never again will I hearken thereto!"

Weird laid he on her, sore sickness he wrought, _Fowl are a-singing._ That self-same hour to death was she brought. _Agnes, fair Agnes!_

KNIGHT AAGEN AND MAIDEN ELSE

TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH

It was the fair knight Aagen To an isle he went his way, And plighted troth to Else, Who was so fair a may.

He plighted troth to Else All with the ruddy gold, But or ere that day's moon came again Low he lay in the black, black mould.

It was the maiden Else, She was fulfilled of woe When she heard how the fair knight Aagen In the black mould lay alow.

Uprose the fair knight Aagen, Coffin on back took he, And he's away to her bower, Sore hard as the work might be.

With that same chest on door he smote, For the lack of flesh and skin; "O hearken, maiden Else, And let thy true-love in!"

Then answered maiden Else, "Never open I my door, But and if thou namest Jesu's name As thou hadst might before."

"O hearken, maiden Else, And open thou thy door, For Jesu's name I well may name As I had might before!"

Then uprose maiden Else, O'er her cheek the salt tears ran, Nor spared she into her very bower To welcome that dead man.

O, she's taken up her comb of gold And combed adown her hair, And for every hair she combed adown There fell a weary tear.

"Hearken thou, knight Aagen, Hearken, true-love, and tell, If down-adown in the black, black earth Thou farest ever well?"

"O whenso thou art joyous, And the heart is glad in thee, Then fares it with my coffin That red roses are with me.

"But whenso thou art sorrowful And weary is thy mood, Then all within my coffin Is it dreadful with dark blood.

"Now is the red cock a-crowing, To the earth adown must I; Down to the earth wend all dead folk, And I wend in company.

"Now is the black cock a-crowing, To the earth must I adown, For the gates of Heaven are opening now, Thereto must I begone."

Uprose the fair knight Aagen, Coffin on back took he, And he's away to the churchyard now, Sore hard as the work might be.

But so wrought maiden Else, Because of her weary mood, That she followed after own true love All through the mirk wild wood.

But when the wood was well passed through, And in the churchyard they were, Then was the fair knight Aagen Waxen wan of his golden hair.

And when therefrom they wended And were the church within, Then was the fair knight Aagen Waxen wan of cheek and chin.

"Hearken thou, maiden Else, Hearken, true-love, to me, Weep no more for thine own troth-plight, However it shall be!

"Look thou up to the heavens aloft, To the little stars and bright, And thou shalt see how sweetly It fareth with the night!"

She looked up to the heavens aloft, To the little stars bright above. The dead man sank into his grave, Ne'er again she saw her love.

Home then went maiden Else, Mid sorrow manifold, And ere that night's moon came again She lay alow in the mould.

HAFBUR AND SIGNY

TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH.

King Hafbur and King Siward They needs must stir up strife, All about the sweetling Signy Who was so fair a wife. _O wilt thou win me then, or as fair a maid as I be?_

It was the King's son Hafbur Woke up amid the night, And 'gan to tell of a wondrous dream In swift words nowise light.

"Me-dreamed I was in heaven Amid that fair abode, And my true-love lay upon mine arm And we fell from cloud to cloud."

As there they sat, the dames and maids Of his words they took no keep, Only his mother well-beloved Heeded his dreamful sleep.

"Go get thee gone to the mountain, And make no long delay; To the elve's eldest daughter For thy dream's areding pray."

So the King's son, even Hafbur, Took his sword in his left hand, And he's away to the mountain To get speech of that Lily-wand.

He beat thereon with hand all bare, With fingers small and fine, And there she lay, the elve's daughter, And well wotted of that sign.

"Bide hail, Elve's sweetest daughter, As on skins thou liest fair, I pray thee by the God of Heaven My dream arede thou clear.

"Me-dreamed I was in heaven, Yea amid that fair abode, And my true-love lay upon mine arm And we fell from cloud to cloud."

"Whereas thou dreamed'st thou wert in heaven, So shalt thou win that may; Dreamed'st thou of falling through the clouds, So falls for her thy life away."

"And if it lieth in my luck To win to me that may, In no sorrow's stead it standeth me For her to cast my life away."

Lord Hafbur lets his hair wax long, And will have the gear of mays, And he rideth to King Siward's house And will well learn weaving ways.

Lord Hafbur all his clothes let shape In such wise as maidens do, And thus he rideth over the land King Siward's daughter to woo.

Now out amid the castle-garth He cast his cloak aside, And goeth forth to the high-bower Where the dames and damsels abide.

Hail, sit ye there, dames and damsels, Maids and queens kind and fair, And chiefest of all to the Dane-King's daughter If she abideth here!

"Hail, sittest thou, sweet King's daughter, A-spinning the silken twine, It is King Hafbur sends me hither To learn the sewing fine."

Hath Hafbur sent thee here to me? Then art thou a welcome guest, And all the sewing that I can Shall I learn thee at my best.

"And all the sewing that I can I shall learn thee lovingly, Out of one bowl shalt thou eat with me, And by my nurse shalt thou lie."

"King's children have I eaten with, And lain down by their side: Must I lie abed now with a very nurse? Then woe is me this tide!"

"Nay, let it pass, fair maiden! Of me gettest thou no harm, Out of one bowl shalt thou eat with me And sleep soft upon mine arm."

There sat they, all the damsels, And sewed full craftily; But ever the King's son Hafbur With nail in mouth sat he.

They sewed the hart, they sewed the hind, As they run through the wild-wood green, Never gat Hafbur so big a bowl But the bottom soon was seen.

In there came the evil nurse In the worst tide that might be: "Never saw I fair maiden Who could sew less craftily.

"Never saw I fair maiden Seam worse the linen fine, Never saw I noble maiden Who better drank the wine."

This withal spake the evil nurse, The nighest that she durst: "Never saw I yet fair maiden Of drink so sore athirst.

"So little a seam as ever she sews Goes the needle into her mouth, As big a bowl as ever she gets Out is it drunk forsooth.

"Ne'er saw I yet in maiden's head Two eyes so bright and bold, And those two hands of her withal Are hard as the iron cold."

"Hearken, sweet nurse, whereso thou art, Why wilt thou mock me still? Never cast I one word at thee, Went thy sewing well or ill.

"Still wilt thou mock, still wilt thou spy; Nought such thou hast of me, Whether mine eyes look out or look in Nought do they deal with thee."

O it was Hafbur the King's son Began to sew at last; He sowed the hart, and he sewed the hind, As they flee from the hound so fast.

He sewed the lily, and he sewed the rose, And the little fowls of the air; Then fell the damsels a-marvelling, For nought had they missed him there.

Day long they sewed till the evening, And till the long night was deep, Then up stood dames and maidens And were fain in their beds to sleep.

So fell on them the evening-tide, O'er the meads the dew drave down, And fain was Signy, that sweet thing, With her folk to bed to be gone.

Therewith asked the King's son Hafbur, "And whatten a bed for me?" "O thou shalt sleep in the bower aloft, And blue shall thy bolster be."

She went before, sweet Signy, O'er the high-bower's bridge aright, And after her went Hafbur Laughing from heart grown light.

Then kindled folk the waxlights, That were so closely twined, And after them the ill nurse went With an ill thought in her mind.

The lights were quenched, the nurse went forth, They deemed they were alone: Lord Hafbur drew off his kirtle red, Then first his sword outshone.

Lord Hafbur mid his longing sore Down on the bed he sat: I tell you of my soothfastness, His byrny clashed thereat.

Then spake the darling Signy, Out of her heart she said, "Never saw I so rough a shirt Upon so fair a maid."

She laid her hand on Hafbur's breast With the red gold all a-blaze: "Why wax thy breasts in no such wise As they wax in other mays?"

"The wont it is in my father's land For maids to ride to the Thing, Therefore my breasts are little of growth Beneath the byrny-ring."

And there they lay through the night so long, The King's son and the may, In talk full sweet, but little of sleep, So much on their minds there lay.

"Hearken, sweet maiden Signy, As here alone we lie, Who is thy dearest in the world, And lieth thine heart most nigh?"

"O there is none in all the world Who lieth so near to my heart As doth the bold King Hafbur: Ne'er in him shall I have a part.

"As doth the bold King Hafbur That mine eyes shall never know: Nought but the sound of his gold-wrought horn As he rides to the Thing and fro."

"O, is it Hafbur the King's son That thy loved heart holdeth dear? Turn hither, O my well-beloved, To thy side I lie so near."

"If thou art the King's son Hafbur, Why wilt thou shame me, love, Why ridest thou not to my father's garth With hound, and with hawk upon glove?"

"Once was I in thy father's garth, With hound and hawk and all; And with many mocks he said me nay, In such wise did our meeting fall."

All the while they talked together They deemed alone they were, But the false nurse ever stood close without, And nought thereof she failed to hear.

O shame befall that evil nurse, Ill tidings down she drew, She stole away his goodly sword, But and his byrny new.

She took to her his goodly sword, His byrny blue she had away, And she went her ways to the high bower Whereas King Siward lay.

"Wake up, wake up, King Siward! Over long thou sleepest there, The while the King's son Hafbur Lies abed by Signy the fair."

"No Hafbur is here, and no King's son, That thou shouldst speak this word; He is far away in the east-countries, Warring with knight and lord.

"Hold thou thy peace, thou evil nurse, And lay on her no lie, Or else tomorn ere the sun is up In the bale-fire shall ye die."

"O hearken to this, my lord and king, And trow me nought but true; Look here upon his bright white sword, But and his byrny blue!"

Then mad of mind waxed Siward, Over all the house 'gan he cry, "Rise up, O mighty men of mine, For a hardy knight is anigh:

"Take ye sword and shield in hand, And look that they be true; For Hafbur the King hath guested with us; Stiffnecked he is, great deeds to do."

So there anigh the high-bower door They stood with spear and glaive "Rise up, rise up, Young Hafbur, Out here we would thee have!"

That heard the goodly Signy, And she wrang her hands full sore: "Hearken and heed, O Hafbur, Who stand without by the door!"

Thank and praise to the King's son Hafbur, Manly he played and stout! None might lay hand upon him While the bed-post yet held out.

But they took him, the King's son Hafbur, And set him in bolts new wrought; Then lightly he rent them asunder, As though they were leaden and nought.

Out and spake the ancient nurse, And she gave a rede of ill; "Bind ye him but in Signy's hair. So shall hand and foot lie still.

"Take ye but one of Signy's hairs Hafbur's hands to bind, Ne'er shall he rend them asunder, His heart to her is so kind."

Then took they two of Signy's hairs Bonds for his hands to be, Nor might he rive them asunder, So dear to his heart was she.

Then spake the sweetling Signy As the tears fast down her cheek did fall: "O rend it asunder, Hafbur, That gift to thee I give withal."

Now sat the-King's son Hafbur Amidst the castle-hall, And thronged to behold him man and maid, But the damsels chiefest of all.

They took him, the King's son Hafbur, Laid bolts upon him in that place, And ever went Signy to and fro, The weary tears fell down apace.

She speaketh to him in sorrowful mood: "This will I, Hafbur, for thee, Piteous prayer for thee shall make My mother's sisters three.

"For my father's mind stands fast in this, To do thee to hang upon the bough On the topmost oak in the morning-tide While the sun is yet but low."

But answered thereto young Hafbur Out of a wrathful mind: "Of all heeds I heeded, this was the last, To be prayed for by womankind.

"But hearken, true-love Signy, Good heart to my asking turn, When thou seest me swing on oaken-bough Then let thy high-bower burn."

Then answered the noble Signy, So sore as she must moan, "God to aid, King's son Hafbur, Well will I grant thy boon."

They followed him, King Hafbur, Thick thronging from the castle-bent: And all who saw him needs must greet And in full piteous wise they went.

But when they came to the fair green mead Where Hafbur was to die, He prayed them hold a little while: For his true-love would he try.

"O hang me up my cloak of red, That sight or my ending let me see. Perchance yet may King Siward rue My hanging on the gallows tree."

Now of the cloak was Signy ware And sorely sorrow her heart did rive, She thought: "The ill tale all is told, No longer is there need to live."

Straightway her damsels did she call As weary as she was of mind: "Come, let us go to the bower aloft Game and glee for a while to find."

Yea and withal spake Signy, She spake a word of price: "To-day shall I do myself to death And meet Hafbur in Paradise.