The Mythology of Fairies. Thomas KeightleyЧитать онлайн книгу.
If thou wilt credit me."
"But hast thou not a fair true love,
Who is called Lady Hermolin?
For her it is we shall fight to-day,
If she shall be mine or thine."
The first charge they together rode,
They were two champions so tall;
He cut at the king's sister's son,
That his head to the ground did fall.
Back then rode the champions six,
And dressed themselves in fur;
Then went into the lofty hall,
The aged king before.
And it was then the aged king,
He tore his gray hairs in woe.
"Ye must avenge my sister's son's death;
I will sables and martins bestow."163
Back then rode the champions six,
They thought the reward to gain,
But they remained halt and limbless;
By loss one doth wit obtain.
And he slew wolves and bears,
All before the high chambér;
Then taketh he out the maiden free
Who so long had languished there.
And now hath Lady Hermolin
Escaped from all harm;
Now sleeps she sweet full many a sleep,
On brave Sir Thynnè's arm.
And now has brave Sir Thynnè
Escaped all sorrow and tine;
Now sleeps he sweet full many a sleep,
Beside Lady Hermolin.
Most thanketh he Ulva, the little Dwarf's daughter
Who him with the runes had bound,
For were he not come inside of the hill,
The lady he never had found.164
Proud Margaret.
Proud Margaret's165 father of wealth had store, Time with me goes slow.— And he was a king seven kingdoms o'er, But that grief is heavy I know.166
To her came wooing good earls two,
Time with me goes slow.—
But neither of them would she hearken unto,
But that grief is heavy I know.
To her came wooing princes five,
Time with me goes slow.—
Yet not one of them would the maiden have,
But that grief is heavy I know.
To her came wooing kings then seven,
Time with me goes slow.—
But unto none her hand has she given,
But that grief is heavy I know.
And the hill-king asked his mother to read,
Time with me goes slow.—
How to win proud Margaret he might speed,
But that grief is heavy I know.
"And say how much thou wilt give unto me,"
Time with me goes slow.—
"That herself may into the hill come to thee?"
But that grief is heavy I know.
"Thee will I give the ruddiest gold,"
Time with me goes slow.—
"And thy chests full of money as they can hold,"
But that grief is heavy I know.
One Sunday morning it fell out so,
Time with me goes slow.—
Proud Margaret unto the church should go,
But that grief is heavy I know.
And all as she goes, and all as she stays,
Time with me goes slow.—
All the nearer she comes where the high hill lay,
But that grief is heavy I know.
So she goeth around the hill compassing,
Time with me goes slow.—
So there openeth a door, and thereat goes she in,
But that grief is heavy I know.
Proud Margaret stept in at the door of the hill,
Time with me goes slow.—
And the hill-king salutes her with eyes joyfúl,
But that grief is heavy I know.
So he took the maiden upon his knee,
Time with me goes slow.—
And took the gold rings and therewith her wed he,
But that grief is heavy I know.
So he took the maiden his arms between,
Time with me goes slow.—
He gave her a gold crown and the name of queen,
But that grief is heavy I know.
So she was in the hill for eight round years,
Time with me goes slow.—
There bare she two sons and a daughter so fair,
But that grief is heavy I know.
When she had been full eight years there,
Time with me goes slow.—
She wished to go home to her mother so dear,
But that grief is heavy I know.
And the hill-king spake to his footpages twain,
Time with me goes slow.—
"Put ye the gray paeers now unto the wain,"167 But that grief is heavy I know.
And Margaret out at the hill-door stept,
Time with me goes slow.—
And her little children they thereat wept,
But that grief is heavy I know.
And the hill-king her in his arms has ta'en.
Time with me goes slow.—
So he lifteth her into the gilded wain,
But that grief is heavy I know.
"And hear now thou footpage what I unto thee say,"
Time with me goes slow.—
"Thou now shalt drive her to her mother's straightway,"
But that grief is heavy I know.
Proud Margaret stept in o'er the door-sill,
Time with me goes slow.—
And her mother saluteth her with eyes joyfúl,
But that grief is heavy I know.
"And where hast thou so long stayed?"
Time with me goes slow.—
"I have been in the flowery meads,"
But that grief is heavy I know.
"What veil is that thou wearest on thy hair?"
Time with me goes slow.—
"Such as women and mothers use to wear,"
But that grief is heavy I know.
"Well