Transcribed from the 1913 Thomas J. Wise pamphlet by David Price, email
ccx074@pglaf.org
ERMELINE
A BALLAD
BY
GEORGE BORROW
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION
1913
ERMELINE.
With lance upraised so haughtily
Sir Thunye rides from Alsey town;
On land and main he was, I ween,
A daring knight of high renown.
Sir Thunye rides in good green wood,
He fain will chase the nimble hare;
And there he meeteth the Dwarf’s daughter,
All with her band of maidens fair.
Sir Thunye rides in good green wood,
To chase the nimble hart and hind;
And there he meets the Dwarf’s daughter,
Beneath the linden bough reclin’d.
She rested ’neath the linden’s shade,
The gold harp in her hand was seen:
“O yonder I spy Sir Thunye ride,
I’ll bring him to my feet, I ween.
“Now sit ye down, my maids so small,
And sit you down my little foot boy;
For I the Runic note will play,
Till field and meadow bloom with joy.”
Then struck she amain the Runic stroke,
The harp began so sweet to ring,
The wild bird on the twig that sat
Forgot its merry song to sing.
The wild bird on the bough that sat
Forgot its merry song to sing;
The wild hart running in the shaw
Forgot forthwith to leap and spring.
Then bloomed the mead, the bough burst forth,
As wildly rang that Runic strain;
Sir Thunye fiercely spurred his steed,
But, ah! to ’scape he strove in vain.
It was the knight Sir Thunye then
From his good courser bounded he;
He went up to the Dwarf’s daughter,
And took his seat beside her knee.
“Hail to thee, Daughter of the Dwarf!
Do thou become my wedded wife,
And I’ll respect and honor thee,
All, all the days I gain in life.
“Here sitt’st thou, Daughter of the Dwarf,
A rose amongst the lilies all;
No man can see thee in this world
But thee his own he fain would call.”
“Now list to me, Sir Thunye the knight,
Give up, I beg, this amorous play;
I have already a bridegroom bold,
The King whom all the dwarfs obey.
“My father sits within the hill,
He marshals there his elfin power;
Next Monday morn my bridegroom bold
Shall bear me to his elfin bower.
“My mother in the hill doth sit,
And plays with gold that round is strewn;
But I stole away from out the hill,
To play upon my harp a tune.”
“O ere the Dwarf shall thee possess,
And his shall be a bliss so high,
O I will lose my youthful life,
And break my faulchion willingly.”
Then answered straight the Dwarf’s daughter,
And with a frown thus answered she:
“O thou may’st gain a lovelier bride,
But ne’er, Sir Knight, wilt thou gain me.
“Now haste away, Sir Thunye the knight,
I rede thee for thy life take heed;
My father and my bold bridegroom
I ween will both be here with speed.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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