JUNGENTHOR, THE GIANT.
O Giant Jungenthor,What a mighty one was he!He was so big, he was so strong,Whenever he walked the world alongThe people would turn in terror,The people would turn and flee—Oh, oh, Jungenthor,Such a mighty one was he!Oh, Giant Jungenthor,What a terrible one was he!Whenever he went to take a ride,The bald old oaks would step aside,The pines would bend the knee:And at the sound of his heavy treadThe hills would tremble and quake with dread,The islands would rise to see—Oh, oh, Jungenthor,Such a terrible one was he!Oh, Giant Jungenthor,What a dreadful one was he!Whenever he happened to say a word,For miles and for miles his voice was heard,Like the thunder’s roar and rumble;The stones would rock and the timbers shake,The glass in the windows all would break,The chairs and tables tumble;The kettles and pans would play and prance,About the shelves would the dishes dance,The clock would stop and the doors swing wide,The cats would scamper, the dogs would hide,The pigs would squeal and grumble;The cocks would crow and the geese would fly,The women would scream, the children cry,The men look pale and humble;And that is the way it would be—Oh, oh, Jungenthor,Such a dreadful one was he!Where dwelt Jungenthor,Where in the world dwelt he?Not on the mountains clad with snow,Not in the valleys deep below,Not by the surging sea;Not in the desert white with sand,Not in the icy Northern land,Not in the South Countrie.Oh, oh, Jungenthor,Where in the world dwelt he?Under the mountains clad with snow,Under the valleys deep below,Under the surging sea;Under the desert white with sand,Under the icy Northern land,Under the South Countrie;Down, down, under them all—They but the floor, and roof, and wall—There in a cavern high and wide(For the round earth was but a shell;Who and whoever knew so wellAs Jungenthor what was inside?)There, there, there did he dwell,There, and oh there dwelt he.What do you guess was there insideThat earth-bound cavern, high and wide?Oh, there were millions of chambers roomy,Oh, there were galleries long and gloomy,Oh, there were wondrous sights!Here the ceilings were golden-beamed,There the pavement with jewels gleamed,With marbles and malachites;Diamonds were set in the roof for stars,The rafters were made of silver bars,The columns of crystal clear.Oh, in that cavern, high and wide,Had ever a daring mortal triedTo travel alone and without a guide,He had lost his wayAnd gone astrayAnd wandered many a year;And if he had met the giant,He surely had died of fear.But there was a fairy who knew the way:Often by night and often by dayTo a dense forest she would go,And there, in a cave all dark and low,A rock as heavy as iron,And as bright and as black as coal,Swift, when her wand she lifted,Away and away would roll;And down would she clamber, clamber,Through hundreds of miles of gloom,On the rounds of a golden ladderThat led to a wonderful room—Oh, a wonderful, wonderful chamber,Flooded with amber light;For there, at the centre of the earth,A mighty fire on a mighty hearthBurned ruddy, and warm, and bright;Burned ruddy and bright forever,With billows of orange flame,And the giant’s occupationWas—never to let it wane.And there would the fairy find himStirring the coals red hot:“Good-morrow to you, Jungenthor!”So would the fairy say;“And what and what does Winnikin want,And what does she want to-day?”So would the giant grumble;But Winnikin feared him not.And, now, “O Giant Jungenthor!”Did her tale of wrong begin,“There are two wicked cities—A trouble to Winnikin,The rich they are proud and cruel,The poor they will lie and steal,And trouble is always brewingThat Winnikin cannot heal;And the friendly care and watchingOf the fairies they are not worth;O Jungenthor, those citiesAre blots on the face of the earth!”As soon as he guessed her errand,The giant poked the fireTill it roared, and hissed, and crackled,Till the flames curled high and higher,And billows of smoke and cindersFrom the chimney-top rolled out,And darkened the sky at noonday,And shadowed the land about.Then he filled ten billion barrelsWith the soot that trickled down,And up through the chimney hurled them,Up through the chimney brown;And lo! when the morning’s sunlightShone through the clouds of smoke,In those two wicked citiesNeither prince nor beggar woke;For the soot from the giant’s chimneyHad deluged the country wide;And over those wicked citiesIt rolled in a turbid tide.All in the nightThey were buried from sight.“Ha, ha!” laughed Giant Jungenthor,“Is Winnikin satisfied?”And this was the fairy’s errandWhen she came another time:“O Jungenthor, a monarchHas builded a palace fine;Aided by dwarf and elfinHe has builded it tall and grand.With marble white from the quarry,Not hewn by mortal hand;For night by nightIn the pale moonlightDid we hammer and delve away,To get the great stones readyFor the workmen of the day.O Jungenthor, we labored,Behold, for a thankless King!For he has cut down the forestWhere oft, in a merry ring,Did the fairies dance and frolic,Or among the branches swing.After all our toil and troubleHe has destroyed our trees,And the sight of his gorgeous palaceWinnikin does not please.”As soon as her story endedDid the angry giant frown;He lifted his voice of thunder,And the palace toppled down.Oh! he roared so loudThat the frightened crowdFled from the tumbling town,And the thankless monarch stumbled,And fell, and broke his crown.And forth from his firelit cavernDid the giant peep and grin,Then growled at the fay beside him—“Doesthatplease Winnikin?”And such were the fairy’s errands,As from time to time she cameTo Jungenthor the giant,Feeding the flood of flame;And such were the tales she told himOf trouble, and wrong, and grief,And thus and soWould the giant goTo Winnikin’s relief.Once came the fairy, weeping,“O Jungenthor!” said she,“O mighty giant, listenTo the news I bring to thee.“All up among the mountains,Amid the forests dim,There stands a ruined castle,A castle old and grim:And in its shade at eveningThe elves are wont to meet,To dance upon the mossesAnd sway with lilies sweet.Well, yestere’en, it happened,Just at the midnight hour,While we were making merry,Forth from the vine-wreathed towerThere came a plaintive moaning,And I alone who heardFlew up the twining ivy,As lightly as a bird,And found on high a dungeonBeneath the shattered roof,And there a pale young captiveFrom mortal aid aloof,By heavy, clanking ironsChained to the wall of stone.O Jungenthor, good reasonHas he to weep and moan!And this is what he told me,And this is what he told;Now hear, O mighty giant,What fiends the earth doth hold:“‘All up a mountain pathway,That winds through forests green,There rode three gallant horsemenAnd nevermore were seen.Three other gallant horsemenRode up in search of them,Rode up the narrow pathway—And came not back again.And after went three othersThe mountain searching o’er—It fared with those three othersAs with them that went before.And all the people marveled,And all were filled with fear,And no one dared to ventureThe mountain pathway near.“‘Now, one of those nine horsemenWas a knight of our good King;And so a prize he offeredTo any who should bringA true report and trustyOf all those hapless menWho ventured up the mountainAnd ne’er came down again.Whoso should dare the pathwayAnd bring a true report,Thus he should be rewarded—Oh, he should dwell at court,And all should do him honor,And the King should make him knight,And give to him a war-horseAnd a suit of armor bright!“‘Now, we are seven brothers,So hale, and strong, and tall,Save me, who am the seventh,The youngest of them all;And for my lowly stature,Fair face, and yellow curls,The rest they loved to taunt meAnd tease the livelong day,The while we watched the cattleOr turned the new-mown hay.“Go hence, go hence, fair lily,And haste thee,” they would say;“Lest thou shouldst tan or freckleBeneath the burning sun,Go get thyself a bonnetTo shield thee, gentle one!Go gossip with old women!Go spin and sew with girls!”“‘Aweary of their mockingAnd jests at last I grew,And much I thought and ponderedWhat brave deed I might do,Their cruel scorn to silence;And when I heard the news,A chance such prize of winningHow could I well refuse?So, thro’ the brooding midnight,The while the others slept,Across the fields and pasturesAll silently I crept;And when mine eyes I liftedAt breaking of the day,I saw afar the mountain,Toward which I took my way.And on, and on I journeyed,Till, just as night came down,I passed into the forestAmong the shadows brown.Then up the winding pathwayI hurried on, in fear,’Till, through the darkness shiningForth from a ruin near,A light I spied, and thitherI turned, in hope I mightFind food—for I was hungry—And shelter for the night.I reached the door, and ent’ring(I thought the place an inn,For there were sounds of feastingAnd merriment within),Fierce men, with cruel weapons,A table gathered ’round,Sprang up and seized me, helpless,And with these fetters bound.“What brings thee here, thou stripling?”In anger questioned they.“O sirs,” I answered, trembling,“I’ve journeyed all the day;For food, and rest, and shelterI chanced to turn this way,But since I am not welcome,Let me pass on, I pray.”“Ha, not so fast, young villain!We know that is a lie.What errand brings thee hither?Confess thou art a spy!”“It is a peaceful errand,O sirs,” I answered then;“I seek nine gallant horsemen.And have ye heard of them?They rode this way, nor everReturned, and I would bringSome tidings of the missingTo our good lord, the King.”At that, with peals of laughterThe dreary place did ring.“Thou’lt see thy gallant horsemenEre thou shalt see the King!”They said, and roughly dragged meAlong the banquet-hall,And up into this lonesome tower,And chained me to the wall.“Lie there, lie there and rest thee!”They cried in mocking tones;“Thou’rt welcome to thy lodging—And the lichens on the stones!”“‘O fairy, now for many daysHave I thus helpless lain;No food but these gray mosses,No drink but pearls of rainThat through the sunken ceilingDrop to me where I lie,When the blessed clouds in pityCreep downward from the sky.O fairy, I beseech thee,Release me ere I die!For they who keep this castleAre robbers fierce and bold,I’ve learned from bloody storiesBy one and other told,As night by night, grown merryWith wine, their voices rise,And come to me with secretsThrough the long galleries.They gather here at midnightFrom all the country o’er,To hide their plundered treasureBeneath the stone-paved floor,To talk of their adventuresAnd feast till break of day,When quick they mount their horses,And swiftly ride awayTo seek the mountain-passesAnd lie in wait for prey.The very steeds that bear themWere stolen, and they tellOf three who once rode hither,On whom they, waiting, fellAnd slew, and of three othersWho up the mountain came,And yet again three others;And all did fare the same.And now—for who could doubt it?—Those were the missing nine!Oh! I would bear the tidings,The prize it should be mine,But that thus bound with ironsAnd helpless here I lie.Good fairy, I beseech thee,Release me ere I die!’“Such was the tale he told me.O Jungenthor, I pleadThat thou wilt lift thy mighty armAnd help him in his need.”When the fairy had finished speaking,The giant stood up and knockedAgain and again on the ceiling,Till the ruined castle rocked,And the roof fell inWith a deafening din,And the stones fell outAnd tumbled about;And the thieves who merrily feasted,Or ever they could take flight,The earth gaped wide and swallowed,Then closed and covered from sight.“Ha, ha!” laughed Giant Jungenthor,“Haven’t I served them right?”But there was one part of the castle—The tow’r where the young lad lay—Left standing (and who deniethThat it stands there to this day?)The door it had flown wide openAt the knocking of Jungenthor,The iron chainIt had snapped in twain,And the captive was free once more.And still in his clanking fetters,Wasted, and weak, and wan,He crawled away to the forest,He wandered and wandered on.Bewildered and faint, all slowlyHere and there did he stray,Till he saw a snow-white charger,With saddle and trappings gay,Feeding among the herbage,And him did he mount straightway,Saying, “Good steed,O speed, O speed!And carry me, carry me, carry meSafe to the King this day!”Then the beautiful snow-white charger,As tho’ he had understood,Galloped adown the mountain,Down and on through the wood;And, eager, as one long absentSeeking his home again,The road to the royal cityHe took when he reached the plain;And the folk in the fields at labor,And the passers to and fro,Lifted their eyes in wonder,Seeing him speeding so—For ever the farther he traveledThe faster he seemed to go.The King from the palace windowLooked forth at set of sun,And along the dusty highwaySaw a horse and rider come;And he watched till the snow-white chargerPaused at the palace gate,Then he turned to the courtiers round him,Saying in wonder great,“Look, ye! it is the war horseOf my brave knight, Harald, heWho rode on the fated mission.Bring the rider to me!”And into the royal presence,Trembling, the young lad came,Wasted, and wan, and pallid,Feebly dragging his chain.“Who art thou?” the King demanded,Marveling at the sight;“Whence dost thou come, and wherefore,And why in this woeful plight?”Then the youth made timid answer—“O my gracious lord the King,I am a humble peasant,And tidings I come to bringOf the fate of the missing horsemen.”Bidding the lad come near,Eager the King did question,And the courtiers all,Both great and small,Crowded about to hear.When the boy had told his storyThe King laid hand on his head;—“If thou wert but ten years olderI would make thee a knight,” he said.“Alas!” sighed the boy, recallingThe scorn and the cruel jeersOf his brothers, “I am not worthy,Because of my youthful years!”And wasted, and weak, and pallid,He sank with a weary moan,His fetters clanking around him,There at the foot of the throne.Then the King’s fair little daughter,Who had listened with tearful eyes,Spake softly, “Have pity, my father!Hath he not won the prize?”“Arise!” said the good King, smiling,“Forsooth I will keep my word,”(And, saying, the young lad’s shoulderLightly he touched with his sword);“Forsooth I will keep my promise,Since the little one pleads thy claim!Henceforth shall they know thee onlyAs the Knight of the Golden Mane.The steed that hath borne thee hitherHenceforward thine own shall be,And when thou art grown to fit itMine armor I’ll give to thee.”Then to the servitors turning—“Unbind him without delay,Tho’ these chains were a badge of honorAnd clanked in his praise to-day.”And the youthful knight thereafterAt the court of the King abode,Like a prince did he go appareled,And the snow-white steed he rode.And the King’s own suit of armorHe wore when a man he grew—Helmet, and shield, and coat of mail,And the good King’s broad-sword, too.And so valiant was he in warfare,And so wise alway, that his fameAfar did ring,And the foes of the KingTrembled to hear his name.Now, once to the royal cityThe people by thousands came(For that day did he wed the princess,She who pleaded his claim);And there were six stalwart brothersIn the gay and festive throng,And low did they make obeisanceAs grandly he rode along;But sudden, amazed and awe-struckWere they when the warrior bold—In his bright and dazzling armor,With his flowing locks of gold—Halted to give them greeting;Sudden they blanched with shame,For, behold, their long-lost brotherWas the Knight of the Golden Mane!And none of all this had happened,And the castle, so grim and gray,Might have been the home of robbersUnto this very day;And the poor young lad imprisoned,Bound by the iron chain,Had clambered the lonely mountainAnd tried for the prize in vain,But for the giant’s knocking.And from this and from that you see,When the fairy asked help of Jungenthor,Just the way it would be—Oh, oh, Jungenthor,Such a mighty one was he!
O Giant Jungenthor,What a mighty one was he!He was so big, he was so strong,Whenever he walked the world alongThe people would turn in terror,The people would turn and flee—Oh, oh, Jungenthor,Such a mighty one was he!Oh, Giant Jungenthor,What a terrible one was he!Whenever he went to take a ride,The bald old oaks would step aside,The pines would bend the knee:And at the sound of his heavy treadThe hills would tremble and quake with dread,The islands would rise to see—Oh, oh, Jungenthor,Such a terrible one was he!Oh, Giant Jungenthor,What a dreadful one was he!Whenever he happened to say a word,For miles and for miles his voice was heard,Like the thunder’s roar and rumble;The stones would rock and the timbers shake,The glass in the windows all would break,The chairs and tables tumble;The kettles and pans would play and prance,About the shelves would the dishes dance,The clock would stop and the doors swing wide,The cats would scamper, the dogs would hide,The pigs would squeal and grumble;The cocks would crow and the geese would fly,The women would scream, the children cry,The men look pale and humble;And that is the way it would be—Oh, oh, Jungenthor,Such a dreadful one was he!Where dwelt Jungenthor,Where in the world dwelt he?Not on the mountains clad with snow,Not in the valleys deep below,Not by the surging sea;Not in the desert white with sand,Not in the icy Northern land,Not in the South Countrie.Oh, oh, Jungenthor,Where in the world dwelt he?Under the mountains clad with snow,Under the valleys deep below,Under the surging sea;Under the desert white with sand,Under the icy Northern land,Under the South Countrie;Down, down, under them all—They but the floor, and roof, and wall—There in a cavern high and wide(For the round earth was but a shell;Who and whoever knew so wellAs Jungenthor what was inside?)There, there, there did he dwell,There, and oh there dwelt he.What do you guess was there insideThat earth-bound cavern, high and wide?Oh, there were millions of chambers roomy,Oh, there were galleries long and gloomy,Oh, there were wondrous sights!Here the ceilings were golden-beamed,There the pavement with jewels gleamed,With marbles and malachites;Diamonds were set in the roof for stars,The rafters were made of silver bars,The columns of crystal clear.Oh, in that cavern, high and wide,Had ever a daring mortal triedTo travel alone and without a guide,He had lost his wayAnd gone astrayAnd wandered many a year;And if he had met the giant,He surely had died of fear.But there was a fairy who knew the way:Often by night and often by dayTo a dense forest she would go,And there, in a cave all dark and low,A rock as heavy as iron,And as bright and as black as coal,Swift, when her wand she lifted,Away and away would roll;And down would she clamber, clamber,Through hundreds of miles of gloom,On the rounds of a golden ladderThat led to a wonderful room—Oh, a wonderful, wonderful chamber,Flooded with amber light;For there, at the centre of the earth,A mighty fire on a mighty hearthBurned ruddy, and warm, and bright;Burned ruddy and bright forever,With billows of orange flame,And the giant’s occupationWas—never to let it wane.And there would the fairy find himStirring the coals red hot:“Good-morrow to you, Jungenthor!”So would the fairy say;“And what and what does Winnikin want,And what does she want to-day?”So would the giant grumble;But Winnikin feared him not.And, now, “O Giant Jungenthor!”Did her tale of wrong begin,“There are two wicked cities—A trouble to Winnikin,The rich they are proud and cruel,The poor they will lie and steal,And trouble is always brewingThat Winnikin cannot heal;And the friendly care and watchingOf the fairies they are not worth;O Jungenthor, those citiesAre blots on the face of the earth!”As soon as he guessed her errand,The giant poked the fireTill it roared, and hissed, and crackled,Till the flames curled high and higher,And billows of smoke and cindersFrom the chimney-top rolled out,And darkened the sky at noonday,And shadowed the land about.Then he filled ten billion barrelsWith the soot that trickled down,And up through the chimney hurled them,Up through the chimney brown;And lo! when the morning’s sunlightShone through the clouds of smoke,In those two wicked citiesNeither prince nor beggar woke;For the soot from the giant’s chimneyHad deluged the country wide;And over those wicked citiesIt rolled in a turbid tide.All in the nightThey were buried from sight.“Ha, ha!” laughed Giant Jungenthor,“Is Winnikin satisfied?”And this was the fairy’s errandWhen she came another time:“O Jungenthor, a monarchHas builded a palace fine;Aided by dwarf and elfinHe has builded it tall and grand.With marble white from the quarry,Not hewn by mortal hand;For night by nightIn the pale moonlightDid we hammer and delve away,To get the great stones readyFor the workmen of the day.O Jungenthor, we labored,Behold, for a thankless King!For he has cut down the forestWhere oft, in a merry ring,Did the fairies dance and frolic,Or among the branches swing.After all our toil and troubleHe has destroyed our trees,And the sight of his gorgeous palaceWinnikin does not please.”As soon as her story endedDid the angry giant frown;He lifted his voice of thunder,And the palace toppled down.Oh! he roared so loudThat the frightened crowdFled from the tumbling town,And the thankless monarch stumbled,And fell, and broke his crown.And forth from his firelit cavernDid the giant peep and grin,Then growled at the fay beside him—“Doesthatplease Winnikin?”And such were the fairy’s errands,As from time to time she cameTo Jungenthor the giant,Feeding the flood of flame;And such were the tales she told himOf trouble, and wrong, and grief,And thus and soWould the giant goTo Winnikin’s relief.Once came the fairy, weeping,“O Jungenthor!” said she,“O mighty giant, listenTo the news I bring to thee.“All up among the mountains,Amid the forests dim,There stands a ruined castle,A castle old and grim:And in its shade at eveningThe elves are wont to meet,To dance upon the mossesAnd sway with lilies sweet.Well, yestere’en, it happened,Just at the midnight hour,While we were making merry,Forth from the vine-wreathed towerThere came a plaintive moaning,And I alone who heardFlew up the twining ivy,As lightly as a bird,And found on high a dungeonBeneath the shattered roof,And there a pale young captiveFrom mortal aid aloof,By heavy, clanking ironsChained to the wall of stone.O Jungenthor, good reasonHas he to weep and moan!And this is what he told me,And this is what he told;Now hear, O mighty giant,What fiends the earth doth hold:“‘All up a mountain pathway,That winds through forests green,There rode three gallant horsemenAnd nevermore were seen.Three other gallant horsemenRode up in search of them,Rode up the narrow pathway—And came not back again.And after went three othersThe mountain searching o’er—It fared with those three othersAs with them that went before.And all the people marveled,And all were filled with fear,And no one dared to ventureThe mountain pathway near.“‘Now, one of those nine horsemenWas a knight of our good King;And so a prize he offeredTo any who should bringA true report and trustyOf all those hapless menWho ventured up the mountainAnd ne’er came down again.Whoso should dare the pathwayAnd bring a true report,Thus he should be rewarded—Oh, he should dwell at court,And all should do him honor,And the King should make him knight,And give to him a war-horseAnd a suit of armor bright!“‘Now, we are seven brothers,So hale, and strong, and tall,Save me, who am the seventh,The youngest of them all;And for my lowly stature,Fair face, and yellow curls,The rest they loved to taunt meAnd tease the livelong day,The while we watched the cattleOr turned the new-mown hay.“Go hence, go hence, fair lily,And haste thee,” they would say;“Lest thou shouldst tan or freckleBeneath the burning sun,Go get thyself a bonnetTo shield thee, gentle one!Go gossip with old women!Go spin and sew with girls!”“‘Aweary of their mockingAnd jests at last I grew,And much I thought and ponderedWhat brave deed I might do,Their cruel scorn to silence;And when I heard the news,A chance such prize of winningHow could I well refuse?So, thro’ the brooding midnight,The while the others slept,Across the fields and pasturesAll silently I crept;And when mine eyes I liftedAt breaking of the day,I saw afar the mountain,Toward which I took my way.And on, and on I journeyed,Till, just as night came down,I passed into the forestAmong the shadows brown.Then up the winding pathwayI hurried on, in fear,’Till, through the darkness shiningForth from a ruin near,A light I spied, and thitherI turned, in hope I mightFind food—for I was hungry—And shelter for the night.I reached the door, and ent’ring(I thought the place an inn,For there were sounds of feastingAnd merriment within),Fierce men, with cruel weapons,A table gathered ’round,Sprang up and seized me, helpless,And with these fetters bound.“What brings thee here, thou stripling?”In anger questioned they.“O sirs,” I answered, trembling,“I’ve journeyed all the day;For food, and rest, and shelterI chanced to turn this way,But since I am not welcome,Let me pass on, I pray.”“Ha, not so fast, young villain!We know that is a lie.What errand brings thee hither?Confess thou art a spy!”“It is a peaceful errand,O sirs,” I answered then;“I seek nine gallant horsemen.And have ye heard of them?They rode this way, nor everReturned, and I would bringSome tidings of the missingTo our good lord, the King.”At that, with peals of laughterThe dreary place did ring.“Thou’lt see thy gallant horsemenEre thou shalt see the King!”They said, and roughly dragged meAlong the banquet-hall,And up into this lonesome tower,And chained me to the wall.“Lie there, lie there and rest thee!”They cried in mocking tones;“Thou’rt welcome to thy lodging—And the lichens on the stones!”“‘O fairy, now for many daysHave I thus helpless lain;No food but these gray mosses,No drink but pearls of rainThat through the sunken ceilingDrop to me where I lie,When the blessed clouds in pityCreep downward from the sky.O fairy, I beseech thee,Release me ere I die!For they who keep this castleAre robbers fierce and bold,I’ve learned from bloody storiesBy one and other told,As night by night, grown merryWith wine, their voices rise,And come to me with secretsThrough the long galleries.They gather here at midnightFrom all the country o’er,To hide their plundered treasureBeneath the stone-paved floor,To talk of their adventuresAnd feast till break of day,When quick they mount their horses,And swiftly ride awayTo seek the mountain-passesAnd lie in wait for prey.The very steeds that bear themWere stolen, and they tellOf three who once rode hither,On whom they, waiting, fellAnd slew, and of three othersWho up the mountain came,And yet again three others;And all did fare the same.And now—for who could doubt it?—Those were the missing nine!Oh! I would bear the tidings,The prize it should be mine,But that thus bound with ironsAnd helpless here I lie.Good fairy, I beseech thee,Release me ere I die!’“Such was the tale he told me.O Jungenthor, I pleadThat thou wilt lift thy mighty armAnd help him in his need.”When the fairy had finished speaking,The giant stood up and knockedAgain and again on the ceiling,Till the ruined castle rocked,And the roof fell inWith a deafening din,And the stones fell outAnd tumbled about;And the thieves who merrily feasted,Or ever they could take flight,The earth gaped wide and swallowed,Then closed and covered from sight.“Ha, ha!” laughed Giant Jungenthor,“Haven’t I served them right?”But there was one part of the castle—The tow’r where the young lad lay—Left standing (and who deniethThat it stands there to this day?)The door it had flown wide openAt the knocking of Jungenthor,The iron chainIt had snapped in twain,And the captive was free once more.And still in his clanking fetters,Wasted, and weak, and wan,He crawled away to the forest,He wandered and wandered on.Bewildered and faint, all slowlyHere and there did he stray,Till he saw a snow-white charger,With saddle and trappings gay,Feeding among the herbage,And him did he mount straightway,Saying, “Good steed,O speed, O speed!And carry me, carry me, carry meSafe to the King this day!”Then the beautiful snow-white charger,As tho’ he had understood,Galloped adown the mountain,Down and on through the wood;And, eager, as one long absentSeeking his home again,The road to the royal cityHe took when he reached the plain;And the folk in the fields at labor,And the passers to and fro,Lifted their eyes in wonder,Seeing him speeding so—For ever the farther he traveledThe faster he seemed to go.The King from the palace windowLooked forth at set of sun,And along the dusty highwaySaw a horse and rider come;And he watched till the snow-white chargerPaused at the palace gate,Then he turned to the courtiers round him,Saying in wonder great,“Look, ye! it is the war horseOf my brave knight, Harald, heWho rode on the fated mission.Bring the rider to me!”And into the royal presence,Trembling, the young lad came,Wasted, and wan, and pallid,Feebly dragging his chain.“Who art thou?” the King demanded,Marveling at the sight;“Whence dost thou come, and wherefore,And why in this woeful plight?”Then the youth made timid answer—“O my gracious lord the King,I am a humble peasant,And tidings I come to bringOf the fate of the missing horsemen.”Bidding the lad come near,Eager the King did question,And the courtiers all,Both great and small,Crowded about to hear.When the boy had told his storyThe King laid hand on his head;—“If thou wert but ten years olderI would make thee a knight,” he said.“Alas!” sighed the boy, recallingThe scorn and the cruel jeersOf his brothers, “I am not worthy,Because of my youthful years!”And wasted, and weak, and pallid,He sank with a weary moan,His fetters clanking around him,There at the foot of the throne.Then the King’s fair little daughter,Who had listened with tearful eyes,Spake softly, “Have pity, my father!Hath he not won the prize?”“Arise!” said the good King, smiling,“Forsooth I will keep my word,”(And, saying, the young lad’s shoulderLightly he touched with his sword);“Forsooth I will keep my promise,Since the little one pleads thy claim!Henceforth shall they know thee onlyAs the Knight of the Golden Mane.The steed that hath borne thee hitherHenceforward thine own shall be,And when thou art grown to fit itMine armor I’ll give to thee.”Then to the servitors turning—“Unbind him without delay,Tho’ these chains were a badge of honorAnd clanked in his praise to-day.”And the youthful knight thereafterAt the court of the King abode,Like a prince did he go appareled,And the snow-white steed he rode.And the King’s own suit of armorHe wore when a man he grew—Helmet, and shield, and coat of mail,And the good King’s broad-sword, too.And so valiant was he in warfare,And so wise alway, that his fameAfar did ring,And the foes of the KingTrembled to hear his name.Now, once to the royal cityThe people by thousands came(For that day did he wed the princess,She who pleaded his claim);And there were six stalwart brothersIn the gay and festive throng,And low did they make obeisanceAs grandly he rode along;But sudden, amazed and awe-struckWere they when the warrior bold—In his bright and dazzling armor,With his flowing locks of gold—Halted to give them greeting;Sudden they blanched with shame,For, behold, their long-lost brotherWas the Knight of the Golden Mane!And none of all this had happened,And the castle, so grim and gray,Might have been the home of robbersUnto this very day;And the poor young lad imprisoned,Bound by the iron chain,Had clambered the lonely mountainAnd tried for the prize in vain,But for the giant’s knocking.And from this and from that you see,When the fairy asked help of Jungenthor,Just the way it would be—Oh, oh, Jungenthor,Such a mighty one was he!
O Giant Jungenthor,What a mighty one was he!He was so big, he was so strong,Whenever he walked the world alongThe people would turn in terror,The people would turn and flee—Oh, oh, Jungenthor,Such a mighty one was he!
O Giant Jungenthor,
What a mighty one was he!
He was so big, he was so strong,
Whenever he walked the world along
The people would turn in terror,
The people would turn and flee—
Oh, oh, Jungenthor,
Such a mighty one was he!
Oh, Giant Jungenthor,What a terrible one was he!Whenever he went to take a ride,The bald old oaks would step aside,The pines would bend the knee:And at the sound of his heavy treadThe hills would tremble and quake with dread,The islands would rise to see—Oh, oh, Jungenthor,Such a terrible one was he!
Oh, Giant Jungenthor,
What a terrible one was he!
Whenever he went to take a ride,
The bald old oaks would step aside,
The pines would bend the knee:
And at the sound of his heavy tread
The hills would tremble and quake with dread,
The islands would rise to see—
Oh, oh, Jungenthor,
Such a terrible one was he!
Oh, Giant Jungenthor,What a dreadful one was he!Whenever he happened to say a word,For miles and for miles his voice was heard,Like the thunder’s roar and rumble;The stones would rock and the timbers shake,The glass in the windows all would break,The chairs and tables tumble;The kettles and pans would play and prance,About the shelves would the dishes dance,The clock would stop and the doors swing wide,The cats would scamper, the dogs would hide,The pigs would squeal and grumble;The cocks would crow and the geese would fly,The women would scream, the children cry,The men look pale and humble;And that is the way it would be—Oh, oh, Jungenthor,Such a dreadful one was he!
Oh, Giant Jungenthor,
What a dreadful one was he!
Whenever he happened to say a word,
For miles and for miles his voice was heard,
Like the thunder’s roar and rumble;
The stones would rock and the timbers shake,
The glass in the windows all would break,
The chairs and tables tumble;
The kettles and pans would play and prance,
About the shelves would the dishes dance,
The clock would stop and the doors swing wide,
The cats would scamper, the dogs would hide,
The pigs would squeal and grumble;
The cocks would crow and the geese would fly,
The women would scream, the children cry,
The men look pale and humble;
And that is the way it would be—
Oh, oh, Jungenthor,
Such a dreadful one was he!
Where dwelt Jungenthor,Where in the world dwelt he?Not on the mountains clad with snow,Not in the valleys deep below,Not by the surging sea;Not in the desert white with sand,Not in the icy Northern land,Not in the South Countrie.Oh, oh, Jungenthor,Where in the world dwelt he?
Where dwelt Jungenthor,
Where in the world dwelt he?
Not on the mountains clad with snow,
Not in the valleys deep below,
Not by the surging sea;
Not in the desert white with sand,
Not in the icy Northern land,
Not in the South Countrie.
Oh, oh, Jungenthor,
Where in the world dwelt he?
Under the mountains clad with snow,Under the valleys deep below,Under the surging sea;Under the desert white with sand,Under the icy Northern land,Under the South Countrie;Down, down, under them all—They but the floor, and roof, and wall—There in a cavern high and wide(For the round earth was but a shell;Who and whoever knew so wellAs Jungenthor what was inside?)There, there, there did he dwell,There, and oh there dwelt he.
Under the mountains clad with snow,
Under the valleys deep below,
Under the surging sea;
Under the desert white with sand,
Under the icy Northern land,
Under the South Countrie;
Down, down, under them all—
They but the floor, and roof, and wall—
There in a cavern high and wide
(For the round earth was but a shell;
Who and whoever knew so well
As Jungenthor what was inside?)
There, there, there did he dwell,
There, and oh there dwelt he.
What do you guess was there insideThat earth-bound cavern, high and wide?Oh, there were millions of chambers roomy,Oh, there were galleries long and gloomy,Oh, there were wondrous sights!Here the ceilings were golden-beamed,There the pavement with jewels gleamed,With marbles and malachites;Diamonds were set in the roof for stars,The rafters were made of silver bars,The columns of crystal clear.Oh, in that cavern, high and wide,Had ever a daring mortal triedTo travel alone and without a guide,He had lost his wayAnd gone astrayAnd wandered many a year;And if he had met the giant,He surely had died of fear.
What do you guess was there inside
That earth-bound cavern, high and wide?
Oh, there were millions of chambers roomy,
Oh, there were galleries long and gloomy,
Oh, there were wondrous sights!
Here the ceilings were golden-beamed,
There the pavement with jewels gleamed,
With marbles and malachites;
Diamonds were set in the roof for stars,
The rafters were made of silver bars,
The columns of crystal clear.
Oh, in that cavern, high and wide,
Had ever a daring mortal tried
To travel alone and without a guide,
He had lost his way
And gone astray
And wandered many a year;
And if he had met the giant,
He surely had died of fear.
But there was a fairy who knew the way:Often by night and often by dayTo a dense forest she would go,And there, in a cave all dark and low,A rock as heavy as iron,And as bright and as black as coal,Swift, when her wand she lifted,Away and away would roll;And down would she clamber, clamber,Through hundreds of miles of gloom,On the rounds of a golden ladderThat led to a wonderful room—Oh, a wonderful, wonderful chamber,Flooded with amber light;For there, at the centre of the earth,A mighty fire on a mighty hearthBurned ruddy, and warm, and bright;Burned ruddy and bright forever,With billows of orange flame,And the giant’s occupationWas—never to let it wane.And there would the fairy find himStirring the coals red hot:“Good-morrow to you, Jungenthor!”So would the fairy say;“And what and what does Winnikin want,And what does she want to-day?”So would the giant grumble;But Winnikin feared him not.
But there was a fairy who knew the way:
Often by night and often by day
To a dense forest she would go,
And there, in a cave all dark and low,
A rock as heavy as iron,
And as bright and as black as coal,
Swift, when her wand she lifted,
Away and away would roll;
And down would she clamber, clamber,
Through hundreds of miles of gloom,
On the rounds of a golden ladder
That led to a wonderful room—
Oh, a wonderful, wonderful chamber,
Flooded with amber light;
For there, at the centre of the earth,
A mighty fire on a mighty hearth
Burned ruddy, and warm, and bright;
Burned ruddy and bright forever,
With billows of orange flame,
And the giant’s occupation
Was—never to let it wane.
And there would the fairy find him
Stirring the coals red hot:
“Good-morrow to you, Jungenthor!”
So would the fairy say;
“And what and what does Winnikin want,
And what does she want to-day?”
So would the giant grumble;
But Winnikin feared him not.
And, now, “O Giant Jungenthor!”Did her tale of wrong begin,“There are two wicked cities—A trouble to Winnikin,The rich they are proud and cruel,The poor they will lie and steal,And trouble is always brewingThat Winnikin cannot heal;And the friendly care and watchingOf the fairies they are not worth;O Jungenthor, those citiesAre blots on the face of the earth!”
And, now, “O Giant Jungenthor!”
Did her tale of wrong begin,
“There are two wicked cities—
A trouble to Winnikin,
The rich they are proud and cruel,
The poor they will lie and steal,
And trouble is always brewing
That Winnikin cannot heal;
And the friendly care and watching
Of the fairies they are not worth;
O Jungenthor, those cities
Are blots on the face of the earth!”
As soon as he guessed her errand,The giant poked the fireTill it roared, and hissed, and crackled,Till the flames curled high and higher,And billows of smoke and cindersFrom the chimney-top rolled out,And darkened the sky at noonday,And shadowed the land about.Then he filled ten billion barrelsWith the soot that trickled down,And up through the chimney hurled them,Up through the chimney brown;And lo! when the morning’s sunlightShone through the clouds of smoke,In those two wicked citiesNeither prince nor beggar woke;For the soot from the giant’s chimneyHad deluged the country wide;And over those wicked citiesIt rolled in a turbid tide.All in the nightThey were buried from sight.“Ha, ha!” laughed Giant Jungenthor,“Is Winnikin satisfied?”
As soon as he guessed her errand,
The giant poked the fire
Till it roared, and hissed, and crackled,
Till the flames curled high and higher,
And billows of smoke and cinders
From the chimney-top rolled out,
And darkened the sky at noonday,
And shadowed the land about.
Then he filled ten billion barrels
With the soot that trickled down,
And up through the chimney hurled them,
Up through the chimney brown;
And lo! when the morning’s sunlight
Shone through the clouds of smoke,
In those two wicked cities
Neither prince nor beggar woke;
For the soot from the giant’s chimney
Had deluged the country wide;
And over those wicked cities
It rolled in a turbid tide.
All in the night
They were buried from sight.
“Ha, ha!” laughed Giant Jungenthor,
“Is Winnikin satisfied?”
And this was the fairy’s errandWhen she came another time:“O Jungenthor, a monarchHas builded a palace fine;Aided by dwarf and elfinHe has builded it tall and grand.With marble white from the quarry,Not hewn by mortal hand;For night by nightIn the pale moonlightDid we hammer and delve away,To get the great stones readyFor the workmen of the day.O Jungenthor, we labored,Behold, for a thankless King!For he has cut down the forestWhere oft, in a merry ring,Did the fairies dance and frolic,Or among the branches swing.After all our toil and troubleHe has destroyed our trees,And the sight of his gorgeous palaceWinnikin does not please.”
And this was the fairy’s errand
When she came another time:
“O Jungenthor, a monarch
Has builded a palace fine;
Aided by dwarf and elfin
He has builded it tall and grand.
With marble white from the quarry,
Not hewn by mortal hand;
For night by night
In the pale moonlight
Did we hammer and delve away,
To get the great stones ready
For the workmen of the day.
O Jungenthor, we labored,
Behold, for a thankless King!
For he has cut down the forest
Where oft, in a merry ring,
Did the fairies dance and frolic,
Or among the branches swing.
After all our toil and trouble
He has destroyed our trees,
And the sight of his gorgeous palace
Winnikin does not please.”
As soon as her story endedDid the angry giant frown;He lifted his voice of thunder,And the palace toppled down.Oh! he roared so loudThat the frightened crowdFled from the tumbling town,And the thankless monarch stumbled,And fell, and broke his crown.And forth from his firelit cavernDid the giant peep and grin,Then growled at the fay beside him—“Doesthatplease Winnikin?”
As soon as her story ended
Did the angry giant frown;
He lifted his voice of thunder,
And the palace toppled down.
Oh! he roared so loud
That the frightened crowd
Fled from the tumbling town,
And the thankless monarch stumbled,
And fell, and broke his crown.
And forth from his firelit cavern
Did the giant peep and grin,
Then growled at the fay beside him—
“Doesthatplease Winnikin?”
And such were the fairy’s errands,As from time to time she cameTo Jungenthor the giant,Feeding the flood of flame;And such were the tales she told himOf trouble, and wrong, and grief,And thus and soWould the giant goTo Winnikin’s relief.
And such were the fairy’s errands,
As from time to time she came
To Jungenthor the giant,
Feeding the flood of flame;
And such were the tales she told him
Of trouble, and wrong, and grief,
And thus and so
Would the giant go
To Winnikin’s relief.
Once came the fairy, weeping,“O Jungenthor!” said she,“O mighty giant, listenTo the news I bring to thee.
Once came the fairy, weeping,
“O Jungenthor!” said she,
“O mighty giant, listen
To the news I bring to thee.
“All up among the mountains,Amid the forests dim,There stands a ruined castle,A castle old and grim:And in its shade at eveningThe elves are wont to meet,To dance upon the mossesAnd sway with lilies sweet.Well, yestere’en, it happened,Just at the midnight hour,While we were making merry,Forth from the vine-wreathed towerThere came a plaintive moaning,And I alone who heardFlew up the twining ivy,As lightly as a bird,And found on high a dungeonBeneath the shattered roof,And there a pale young captiveFrom mortal aid aloof,By heavy, clanking ironsChained to the wall of stone.O Jungenthor, good reasonHas he to weep and moan!And this is what he told me,And this is what he told;Now hear, O mighty giant,What fiends the earth doth hold:
“All up among the mountains,
Amid the forests dim,
There stands a ruined castle,
A castle old and grim:
And in its shade at evening
The elves are wont to meet,
To dance upon the mosses
And sway with lilies sweet.
Well, yestere’en, it happened,
Just at the midnight hour,
While we were making merry,
Forth from the vine-wreathed tower
There came a plaintive moaning,
And I alone who heard
Flew up the twining ivy,
As lightly as a bird,
And found on high a dungeon
Beneath the shattered roof,
And there a pale young captive
From mortal aid aloof,
By heavy, clanking irons
Chained to the wall of stone.
O Jungenthor, good reason
Has he to weep and moan!
And this is what he told me,
And this is what he told;
Now hear, O mighty giant,
What fiends the earth doth hold:
“‘All up a mountain pathway,That winds through forests green,There rode three gallant horsemenAnd nevermore were seen.Three other gallant horsemenRode up in search of them,Rode up the narrow pathway—And came not back again.And after went three othersThe mountain searching o’er—It fared with those three othersAs with them that went before.And all the people marveled,And all were filled with fear,And no one dared to ventureThe mountain pathway near.
“‘All up a mountain pathway,
That winds through forests green,
There rode three gallant horsemen
And nevermore were seen.
Three other gallant horsemen
Rode up in search of them,
Rode up the narrow pathway—
And came not back again.
And after went three others
The mountain searching o’er—
It fared with those three others
As with them that went before.
And all the people marveled,
And all were filled with fear,
And no one dared to venture
The mountain pathway near.
“‘Now, one of those nine horsemenWas a knight of our good King;And so a prize he offeredTo any who should bringA true report and trustyOf all those hapless menWho ventured up the mountainAnd ne’er came down again.Whoso should dare the pathwayAnd bring a true report,Thus he should be rewarded—Oh, he should dwell at court,And all should do him honor,And the King should make him knight,And give to him a war-horseAnd a suit of armor bright!
“‘Now, one of those nine horsemen
Was a knight of our good King;
And so a prize he offered
To any who should bring
A true report and trusty
Of all those hapless men
Who ventured up the mountain
And ne’er came down again.
Whoso should dare the pathway
And bring a true report,
Thus he should be rewarded—
Oh, he should dwell at court,
And all should do him honor,
And the King should make him knight,
And give to him a war-horse
And a suit of armor bright!
“‘Now, we are seven brothers,So hale, and strong, and tall,Save me, who am the seventh,The youngest of them all;And for my lowly stature,Fair face, and yellow curls,The rest they loved to taunt meAnd tease the livelong day,The while we watched the cattleOr turned the new-mown hay.“Go hence, go hence, fair lily,And haste thee,” they would say;“Lest thou shouldst tan or freckleBeneath the burning sun,Go get thyself a bonnetTo shield thee, gentle one!Go gossip with old women!Go spin and sew with girls!”
“‘Now, we are seven brothers,
So hale, and strong, and tall,
Save me, who am the seventh,
The youngest of them all;
And for my lowly stature,
Fair face, and yellow curls,
The rest they loved to taunt me
And tease the livelong day,
The while we watched the cattle
Or turned the new-mown hay.
“Go hence, go hence, fair lily,
And haste thee,” they would say;
“Lest thou shouldst tan or freckle
Beneath the burning sun,
Go get thyself a bonnet
To shield thee, gentle one!
Go gossip with old women!
Go spin and sew with girls!”
“‘Aweary of their mockingAnd jests at last I grew,And much I thought and ponderedWhat brave deed I might do,Their cruel scorn to silence;And when I heard the news,A chance such prize of winningHow could I well refuse?So, thro’ the brooding midnight,The while the others slept,Across the fields and pasturesAll silently I crept;And when mine eyes I liftedAt breaking of the day,I saw afar the mountain,Toward which I took my way.And on, and on I journeyed,Till, just as night came down,I passed into the forestAmong the shadows brown.Then up the winding pathwayI hurried on, in fear,’Till, through the darkness shiningForth from a ruin near,A light I spied, and thitherI turned, in hope I mightFind food—for I was hungry—And shelter for the night.I reached the door, and ent’ring(I thought the place an inn,For there were sounds of feastingAnd merriment within),Fierce men, with cruel weapons,A table gathered ’round,Sprang up and seized me, helpless,And with these fetters bound.“What brings thee here, thou stripling?”In anger questioned they.“O sirs,” I answered, trembling,“I’ve journeyed all the day;For food, and rest, and shelterI chanced to turn this way,But since I am not welcome,Let me pass on, I pray.”
“‘Aweary of their mocking
And jests at last I grew,
And much I thought and pondered
What brave deed I might do,
Their cruel scorn to silence;
And when I heard the news,
A chance such prize of winning
How could I well refuse?
So, thro’ the brooding midnight,
The while the others slept,
Across the fields and pastures
All silently I crept;
And when mine eyes I lifted
At breaking of the day,
I saw afar the mountain,
Toward which I took my way.
And on, and on I journeyed,
Till, just as night came down,
I passed into the forest
Among the shadows brown.
Then up the winding pathway
I hurried on, in fear,
’Till, through the darkness shining
Forth from a ruin near,
A light I spied, and thither
I turned, in hope I might
Find food—for I was hungry—
And shelter for the night.
I reached the door, and ent’ring
(I thought the place an inn,
For there were sounds of feasting
And merriment within),
Fierce men, with cruel weapons,
A table gathered ’round,
Sprang up and seized me, helpless,
And with these fetters bound.
“What brings thee here, thou stripling?”
In anger questioned they.
“O sirs,” I answered, trembling,
“I’ve journeyed all the day;
For food, and rest, and shelter
I chanced to turn this way,
But since I am not welcome,
Let me pass on, I pray.”
“Ha, not so fast, young villain!We know that is a lie.What errand brings thee hither?Confess thou art a spy!”“It is a peaceful errand,O sirs,” I answered then;“I seek nine gallant horsemen.And have ye heard of them?They rode this way, nor everReturned, and I would bringSome tidings of the missingTo our good lord, the King.”At that, with peals of laughterThe dreary place did ring.“Thou’lt see thy gallant horsemenEre thou shalt see the King!”They said, and roughly dragged meAlong the banquet-hall,And up into this lonesome tower,And chained me to the wall.“Lie there, lie there and rest thee!”They cried in mocking tones;“Thou’rt welcome to thy lodging—And the lichens on the stones!”
“Ha, not so fast, young villain!
We know that is a lie.
What errand brings thee hither?
Confess thou art a spy!”
“It is a peaceful errand,
O sirs,” I answered then;
“I seek nine gallant horsemen.
And have ye heard of them?
They rode this way, nor ever
Returned, and I would bring
Some tidings of the missing
To our good lord, the King.”
At that, with peals of laughter
The dreary place did ring.
“Thou’lt see thy gallant horsemen
Ere thou shalt see the King!”
They said, and roughly dragged me
Along the banquet-hall,
And up into this lonesome tower,
And chained me to the wall.
“Lie there, lie there and rest thee!”
They cried in mocking tones;
“Thou’rt welcome to thy lodging—
And the lichens on the stones!”
“‘O fairy, now for many daysHave I thus helpless lain;No food but these gray mosses,No drink but pearls of rainThat through the sunken ceilingDrop to me where I lie,When the blessed clouds in pityCreep downward from the sky.O fairy, I beseech thee,Release me ere I die!For they who keep this castleAre robbers fierce and bold,I’ve learned from bloody storiesBy one and other told,As night by night, grown merryWith wine, their voices rise,And come to me with secretsThrough the long galleries.They gather here at midnightFrom all the country o’er,To hide their plundered treasureBeneath the stone-paved floor,To talk of their adventuresAnd feast till break of day,When quick they mount their horses,And swiftly ride awayTo seek the mountain-passesAnd lie in wait for prey.The very steeds that bear themWere stolen, and they tellOf three who once rode hither,On whom they, waiting, fellAnd slew, and of three othersWho up the mountain came,And yet again three others;And all did fare the same.And now—for who could doubt it?—Those were the missing nine!Oh! I would bear the tidings,The prize it should be mine,But that thus bound with ironsAnd helpless here I lie.Good fairy, I beseech thee,Release me ere I die!’
“‘O fairy, now for many days
Have I thus helpless lain;
No food but these gray mosses,
No drink but pearls of rain
That through the sunken ceiling
Drop to me where I lie,
When the blessed clouds in pity
Creep downward from the sky.
O fairy, I beseech thee,
Release me ere I die!
For they who keep this castle
Are robbers fierce and bold,
I’ve learned from bloody stories
By one and other told,
As night by night, grown merry
With wine, their voices rise,
And come to me with secrets
Through the long galleries.
They gather here at midnight
From all the country o’er,
To hide their plundered treasure
Beneath the stone-paved floor,
To talk of their adventures
And feast till break of day,
When quick they mount their horses,
And swiftly ride away
To seek the mountain-passes
And lie in wait for prey.
The very steeds that bear them
Were stolen, and they tell
Of three who once rode hither,
On whom they, waiting, fell
And slew, and of three others
Who up the mountain came,
And yet again three others;
And all did fare the same.
And now—for who could doubt it?—
Those were the missing nine!
Oh! I would bear the tidings,
The prize it should be mine,
But that thus bound with irons
And helpless here I lie.
Good fairy, I beseech thee,
Release me ere I die!’
“Such was the tale he told me.O Jungenthor, I pleadThat thou wilt lift thy mighty armAnd help him in his need.”
“Such was the tale he told me.
O Jungenthor, I plead
That thou wilt lift thy mighty arm
And help him in his need.”
When the fairy had finished speaking,The giant stood up and knockedAgain and again on the ceiling,Till the ruined castle rocked,And the roof fell inWith a deafening din,And the stones fell outAnd tumbled about;And the thieves who merrily feasted,Or ever they could take flight,The earth gaped wide and swallowed,Then closed and covered from sight.“Ha, ha!” laughed Giant Jungenthor,“Haven’t I served them right?”
When the fairy had finished speaking,
The giant stood up and knocked
Again and again on the ceiling,
Till the ruined castle rocked,
And the roof fell in
With a deafening din,
And the stones fell out
And tumbled about;
And the thieves who merrily feasted,
Or ever they could take flight,
The earth gaped wide and swallowed,
Then closed and covered from sight.
“Ha, ha!” laughed Giant Jungenthor,
“Haven’t I served them right?”
But there was one part of the castle—The tow’r where the young lad lay—Left standing (and who deniethThat it stands there to this day?)The door it had flown wide openAt the knocking of Jungenthor,The iron chainIt had snapped in twain,And the captive was free once more.
But there was one part of the castle—
The tow’r where the young lad lay—
Left standing (and who denieth
That it stands there to this day?)
The door it had flown wide open
At the knocking of Jungenthor,
The iron chain
It had snapped in twain,
And the captive was free once more.
And still in his clanking fetters,Wasted, and weak, and wan,He crawled away to the forest,He wandered and wandered on.Bewildered and faint, all slowlyHere and there did he stray,Till he saw a snow-white charger,With saddle and trappings gay,Feeding among the herbage,And him did he mount straightway,Saying, “Good steed,O speed, O speed!And carry me, carry me, carry meSafe to the King this day!”
And still in his clanking fetters,
Wasted, and weak, and wan,
He crawled away to the forest,
He wandered and wandered on.
Bewildered and faint, all slowly
Here and there did he stray,
Till he saw a snow-white charger,
With saddle and trappings gay,
Feeding among the herbage,
And him did he mount straightway,
Saying, “Good steed,
O speed, O speed!
And carry me, carry me, carry me
Safe to the King this day!”
Then the beautiful snow-white charger,As tho’ he had understood,Galloped adown the mountain,Down and on through the wood;And, eager, as one long absentSeeking his home again,The road to the royal cityHe took when he reached the plain;And the folk in the fields at labor,And the passers to and fro,Lifted their eyes in wonder,Seeing him speeding so—For ever the farther he traveledThe faster he seemed to go.
Then the beautiful snow-white charger,
As tho’ he had understood,
Galloped adown the mountain,
Down and on through the wood;
And, eager, as one long absent
Seeking his home again,
The road to the royal city
He took when he reached the plain;
And the folk in the fields at labor,
And the passers to and fro,
Lifted their eyes in wonder,
Seeing him speeding so—
For ever the farther he traveled
The faster he seemed to go.
The King from the palace windowLooked forth at set of sun,And along the dusty highwaySaw a horse and rider come;And he watched till the snow-white chargerPaused at the palace gate,Then he turned to the courtiers round him,Saying in wonder great,“Look, ye! it is the war horseOf my brave knight, Harald, heWho rode on the fated mission.Bring the rider to me!”
The King from the palace window
Looked forth at set of sun,
And along the dusty highway
Saw a horse and rider come;
And he watched till the snow-white charger
Paused at the palace gate,
Then he turned to the courtiers round him,
Saying in wonder great,
“Look, ye! it is the war horse
Of my brave knight, Harald, he
Who rode on the fated mission.
Bring the rider to me!”
And into the royal presence,Trembling, the young lad came,Wasted, and wan, and pallid,Feebly dragging his chain.“Who art thou?” the King demanded,Marveling at the sight;“Whence dost thou come, and wherefore,And why in this woeful plight?”
And into the royal presence,
Trembling, the young lad came,
Wasted, and wan, and pallid,
Feebly dragging his chain.
“Who art thou?” the King demanded,
Marveling at the sight;
“Whence dost thou come, and wherefore,
And why in this woeful plight?”
Then the youth made timid answer—“O my gracious lord the King,I am a humble peasant,And tidings I come to bringOf the fate of the missing horsemen.”Bidding the lad come near,Eager the King did question,And the courtiers all,Both great and small,Crowded about to hear.
Then the youth made timid answer—
“O my gracious lord the King,
I am a humble peasant,
And tidings I come to bring
Of the fate of the missing horsemen.”
Bidding the lad come near,
Eager the King did question,
And the courtiers all,
Both great and small,
Crowded about to hear.
When the boy had told his storyThe King laid hand on his head;—“If thou wert but ten years olderI would make thee a knight,” he said.“Alas!” sighed the boy, recallingThe scorn and the cruel jeersOf his brothers, “I am not worthy,Because of my youthful years!”And wasted, and weak, and pallid,He sank with a weary moan,His fetters clanking around him,There at the foot of the throne.Then the King’s fair little daughter,Who had listened with tearful eyes,Spake softly, “Have pity, my father!Hath he not won the prize?”
When the boy had told his story
The King laid hand on his head;—
“If thou wert but ten years older
I would make thee a knight,” he said.
“Alas!” sighed the boy, recalling
The scorn and the cruel jeers
Of his brothers, “I am not worthy,
Because of my youthful years!”
And wasted, and weak, and pallid,
He sank with a weary moan,
His fetters clanking around him,
There at the foot of the throne.
Then the King’s fair little daughter,
Who had listened with tearful eyes,
Spake softly, “Have pity, my father!
Hath he not won the prize?”
“Arise!” said the good King, smiling,“Forsooth I will keep my word,”(And, saying, the young lad’s shoulderLightly he touched with his sword);“Forsooth I will keep my promise,Since the little one pleads thy claim!Henceforth shall they know thee onlyAs the Knight of the Golden Mane.The steed that hath borne thee hitherHenceforward thine own shall be,And when thou art grown to fit itMine armor I’ll give to thee.”Then to the servitors turning—“Unbind him without delay,Tho’ these chains were a badge of honorAnd clanked in his praise to-day.”
“Arise!” said the good King, smiling,
“Forsooth I will keep my word,”
(And, saying, the young lad’s shoulder
Lightly he touched with his sword);
“Forsooth I will keep my promise,
Since the little one pleads thy claim!
Henceforth shall they know thee only
As the Knight of the Golden Mane.
The steed that hath borne thee hither
Henceforward thine own shall be,
And when thou art grown to fit it
Mine armor I’ll give to thee.”
Then to the servitors turning—
“Unbind him without delay,
Tho’ these chains were a badge of honor
And clanked in his praise to-day.”
And the youthful knight thereafterAt the court of the King abode,Like a prince did he go appareled,And the snow-white steed he rode.And the King’s own suit of armorHe wore when a man he grew—Helmet, and shield, and coat of mail,And the good King’s broad-sword, too.And so valiant was he in warfare,And so wise alway, that his fameAfar did ring,And the foes of the KingTrembled to hear his name.
And the youthful knight thereafter
At the court of the King abode,
Like a prince did he go appareled,
And the snow-white steed he rode.
And the King’s own suit of armor
He wore when a man he grew—
Helmet, and shield, and coat of mail,
And the good King’s broad-sword, too.
And so valiant was he in warfare,
And so wise alway, that his fame
Afar did ring,
And the foes of the King
Trembled to hear his name.
Now, once to the royal cityThe people by thousands came(For that day did he wed the princess,She who pleaded his claim);And there were six stalwart brothersIn the gay and festive throng,And low did they make obeisanceAs grandly he rode along;But sudden, amazed and awe-struckWere they when the warrior bold—In his bright and dazzling armor,With his flowing locks of gold—Halted to give them greeting;Sudden they blanched with shame,For, behold, their long-lost brotherWas the Knight of the Golden Mane!
Now, once to the royal city
The people by thousands came
(For that day did he wed the princess,
She who pleaded his claim);
And there were six stalwart brothers
In the gay and festive throng,
And low did they make obeisance
As grandly he rode along;
But sudden, amazed and awe-struck
Were they when the warrior bold—
In his bright and dazzling armor,
With his flowing locks of gold—
Halted to give them greeting;
Sudden they blanched with shame,
For, behold, their long-lost brother
Was the Knight of the Golden Mane!
And none of all this had happened,And the castle, so grim and gray,Might have been the home of robbersUnto this very day;And the poor young lad imprisoned,Bound by the iron chain,Had clambered the lonely mountainAnd tried for the prize in vain,But for the giant’s knocking.And from this and from that you see,When the fairy asked help of Jungenthor,Just the way it would be—Oh, oh, Jungenthor,Such a mighty one was he!
And none of all this had happened,
And the castle, so grim and gray,
Might have been the home of robbers
Unto this very day;
And the poor young lad imprisoned,
Bound by the iron chain,
Had clambered the lonely mountain
And tried for the prize in vain,
But for the giant’s knocking.
And from this and from that you see,
When the fairy asked help of Jungenthor,
Just the way it would be—
Oh, oh, Jungenthor,
Such a mighty one was he!
When the fairy had finished speaking,The giant stood up and knocked.—Page 201.
When the fairy had finished speaking,The giant stood up and knocked.—Page 201.
When the fairy had finished speaking,The giant stood up and knocked.—Page 201.
When the fairy had finished speaking,The giant stood up and knocked.—Page 201.
When the fairy had finished speaking,
The giant stood up and knocked.—Page 201.