I was a handsome young swain,And to the court should ride.I rode out in the evening-hour;In the rosy grove I to sleep me laid.Since I her first saw.I laid me under a lind so green,My eyes they sunk in sleep;There came two maidens going along,They fain would with me speak.Since I her first saw.The one she tapped me on my cheek,The other whispered in my ear:"Stand up, handsome young swain,If thou list of love to hear."Since I her first saw.They led then forth a maiden,Whose hair like gold did shine:"Stand up, handsome young swain,If thou to joy incline."Since I her first saw.The third began a song to sing,With good will she did so;Thereat stood the rapid stream,Which before was wont to flow.Since I her first saw.Thereat stood the rapid stream,Which before was wont to flow;And the hind all with her hair so brown,Forgot whither she should go.Since I her first saw.I got me up from off the ground,And leaned my sword upon;The Elve-women danced in and out,All had they the Elve fashión.Since I her first saw.Had not fortune been to me so good,That the cock his wings clapped then,I had slept within the hill that night,All with the Elve-womén.Since I her first saw.[139]
I was a handsome young swain,And to the court should ride.I rode out in the evening-hour;In the rosy grove I to sleep me laid.Since I her first saw.
I laid me under a lind so green,My eyes they sunk in sleep;There came two maidens going along,They fain would with me speak.Since I her first saw.
The one she tapped me on my cheek,The other whispered in my ear:"Stand up, handsome young swain,If thou list of love to hear."Since I her first saw.
They led then forth a maiden,Whose hair like gold did shine:"Stand up, handsome young swain,If thou to joy incline."Since I her first saw.
The third began a song to sing,With good will she did so;Thereat stood the rapid stream,Which before was wont to flow.Since I her first saw.
Thereat stood the rapid stream,Which before was wont to flow;And the hind all with her hair so brown,Forgot whither she should go.Since I her first saw.
I got me up from off the ground,And leaned my sword upon;The Elve-women danced in and out,All had they the Elve fashión.Since I her first saw.
Had not fortune been to me so good,That the cock his wings clapped then,I had slept within the hill that night,All with the Elve-womén.Since I her first saw.[139]
Svend Fælling was, while a little boy, at service in Sjeller-wood-house in Framley; and it one time happened that he had to ride of a message to Ristrup. It was evening before he got near home, and as he came by the hill of Borum Es, he saw the Elle-maids, who were dancing without ceasing round and round his horse. Then one of the Elle-maids stept up to him, and reached him a drinking cup, bidding him at the same time to drink. Svend took the cup, but as he was dubious of the nature of the contents, he flung it out over his shoulder, where it fell on the horse's back, and singed off all the hair. While he had the horn fast in his hand, he gave his horse the spurs and rode off full speed. The Elle-maid pursued him till he came to Trigebrand's mill, and rode through the running water, over which she could not follow him. She then earnestly conjured Svend to give her back the horn, promising him in exchange twelve men's strength. On this condition he gave back the horn, and got what she had promised him; but it very frequently put him to great inconvenience, for he found that along with it he had gotten an appetite for twelve.[140]
There lived a man in Aasum, near Odense, who, as he was coming home one night from Seden, passed by a hill that was standing on red pillars, and underneath there was dancing and great festivity. He hurried on past the hill as fast as he could, never venturing to cast his eyes that way. But as he went along, two fair maidens came to meet him, with beautiful hair floating over their shoulders, and one of them held a cup in her hand, which she reached out to him that he might drink of it. The other then asked him if he would come again, at which he laughed, and answered, Yes. But when he got home he became strangely affected in his mind, was never at ease in himself, and was continually saying that he had promised to go back. And when they watched him closely to prevent his doing so, he at last lost his senses, and died shortly after.[141]
There was once a wedding and a great entertainment at Œsterhæsinge. The party did not break up till morning, and the guests took their departure with a great deal of noise and bustle. While they were putting their horses to their carriages, previous to setting out home, they stood talking about their respective bridal-presents. And while they were talking loudly, and with the utmost earnestness, there came from a neighbouring moor a maiden clad in green, with plaited rushes on her head; she went up to the man who was loudest, and bragging most of his present, and said to him: "What wilt thou give to maid Væ?" Theman, who was elevated with all the ale and brandy he had been drinking, snatched up a whip, and replied: "Ten cuts of my whip;" and that very moment he dropt down dead on the ground.[142]
A farmer's boy was keeping cows not far from Ebeltoft. There came to him a very fair and pretty girl, and she asked him if he was hungry or thirsty. But when he perceived that she guarded with the greatest solicitude against his getting a sight of her back, he immediately suspected that she must be an Elle-maid, for the Elle-people are hollow behind. He accordingly would give no heed to her, and endeavoured to get away from her; but when she perceived this, she offered him her breast that he should suck her. And so great was the enchantment that accompanied this action, that he was unable to resist it. But when he had done as she desired him, he had no longer any command of himself, so that she had now no difficulty in enticing him with her.
He was three days away, during which time his father and mother went home, and were in great affliction, for they were well assured that he must have been enticed away. But on the fourth day his father saw him a long way off coming home, and he desired his wife to set a pan of meat on the fire as quick as possible. The son then came in at the door, and sat down at the table without saying a word. The father, too, remained quite silent, as if every thing was as it ought to be. His mother then set the meat before him, and his father bid him eat, but he let the food lie untouched, and said that he knew now where he could get much better food. The father then became highly enraged, took a good large switch, and once more ordered him to takehis food. The boy was then obliged to eat, and as soon as he had tasted the flesh he ate it up greedily, and instantly fell into a deep sleep. He slept for as many days as the enchantment had lasted, but he never after recovered the use of his reason.[143]
There are three hills on the lands of Bubbelgaard in Funen, which are to this day called the Dance-hills, from the following occurrence. A lad named Hans was at service in Bubbelgaard, and as he was coming one evening past the hills, he saw one of them raised on red pillars, and great dancing and much merriment underneath. He was so enchanted with the beauty and magnificence of what he saw, that he could not restrain his curiosity, but was in a strange and wonderful manner attracted nearer and nearer, till at last the fairest of all the fair maidens that were there came up to him and gave him a kiss. From that moment he lost all command of himself, and became so violent, that he used to tear to pieces all the clothes that were put on him, so that at last they were obliged to make him a dress of sole-leather, which he could not pull off him; and ever after he went by the name of Hans Puntleder, i. e. Sole-leather.[144]
According to Danish tradition, the Elle-kings, under the denomination of Promontory-kings, (Klintekonger), keep watch and ward over the country. Whenever war, or any other misfortune, threatens to come on the land, there may be seen, on the promontory, complete armies, drawn up in array to defend the country.
One of these kings resides at Möen, on the spot which still bears the name of King's-hill (Kongsbjerg). His queenis the most beautiful of beings, and she dwells at the Queen's Chair (Dronningstolen). This king is a great friend of the king of Stevns, and they are both at enmity with Grap, the promontory-king of Rügen, who must keep at a distance, and look out over the sea to watch their approach.
Another tradition, however, says, that there is but one king, who rules over the headlands of Möen, Stevns, and Rügen. He has a magnificent chariot, which is drawn by four black horses. In this he drives over the sea, from one promontory to another. At such times the sea grows black, and is in great commotion, and the loud snorting and neighing of his horses may be distinctly heard.[145]
It was once believed that no mortal monarch dare come to Stevns; for the Elle-king would not permit him to cross the stream that bounds it. But Christian IV. passed it without opposition, and since his time several Danish monarchs have been there.
At Skjelskör, in Zealand, reigns another of these jealous promontorial sovereigns, named king Tolv (Twelve). He will not suffer a mortal prince to pass the bridge of Kjelskör. Wo, too, betide the watchman who should venture to cry twelve o'clock in the village, he might chance to find himself transported to the village of Borre or to the Windmills.
Old people that have eyes for such things, declare they frequently see Kong Tolv rolling himself on the grass in the sunshine. On New-year's night he takes from one smith's forge or another nine new shoes for his horses; they must be always left ready for him, and with them the necessary complement of nails.
The Elle-king of Bornholm[146]lets himself be occasionally heard with fife and drum, especially when war is at hand; he may then be seen in the fields with his soldiers. This king will not suffer an earthly monarch to pass more than three nights on his isle.
In the popular creed there is some strange connexion between the Elves and the trees. They not only frequent them, but they make an interchange of form with them. Inthe church-yard of Store Heddinge,[147]in Zealand, there are the remains of an oak wood. These, say the common people, are the Elle-king's soldiers; by day they are trees, by night valiant warriors. In the wood of Rugaard, in the same island, is a tree which by night becomes a whole Elle-people, and goes about all alive. It has no leaves upon it, yet it would be very unsafe to go to break or fell it, for the underground-people frequently hold their meetings under its branches. There is, in another place, an elder-tree growing in a farm-yard, which frequently takes a walk in the twilight about the yard, and peeps in through the window at the children when they are alone.
It was, perhaps, these elder-trees that gave origin to the notion. In DanishHyldorHyl—a word not far removed from Elle—is Elder, and the peasantry believe that in or under the elder-tree dwells a being called Hyldemoer (Elder-mother), or Hyldequinde (Elder-woman), with her ministrant spirits.[148]A Danish peasant, if he wanted to take any part of an elder-tree, used previously to say, three times—"O, Hyldemoer, Hyldemoer! let me take some of thy elder, and I will let thee take something of mine in return." If this was omitted he would be severely punished. They tell of a man who cut down an elder-tree, but he soon after died suddenly. It is, moreover, not prudent to have any furniture made of elder-wood. A child was once put to lie in a cradle made of this wood, but Hyldemoer came and pulled it by the legs, and gave it no rest till it was put to sleep elsewhere. Old David Monrad relates, that a shepherd, one night, heard his three children crying, and when he inquired the cause, they said some one had been sucking them. Their breasts were found to be swelled, and they were removed to another room, where they were quiet. The reason is said to have been that that room was floored with elder.
The linden or lime tree is the favourite haunt of the Elves and cognate beings; and it is not safe to be near it after sunset.[149]
Ther bygde folk i the bärg,Quinnor och män, för mycken duerf.Hist. Alex. Mac.Suedice.Within the hills folk did won,Women and men, dwarfs many a one.
Ther bygde folk i the bärg,Quinnor och män, för mycken duerf.Hist. Alex. Mac.Suedice.
Within the hills folk did won,Women and men, dwarfs many a one.
The more usual appellation of the Dwarfs is Troll or Trold,[150]a word originally significant of any evil spirit,[151]giant monster, magician,[152]or evil person; but now in a good measure divested of its ill senses, for the Trolls are not in general regarded as noxious or malignant beings.
The Trolls are represented as dwelling inside of hills, mounds, and hillocks—whence they are also called Hill-people (Bjergfolk)—sometimes in single families, sometimes in societies. In the ballads they are described as having kings over them, but never so in the popular legend. Their character seems gradually to have sunk down to the level of the peasantry, in proportion as the belief in them was consigned to the same class. They are regarded asextremely rich for when, on great occasions of festivity, they have their hills raised up on red pillars, people that have chanced to be passing by have seen them shoving large chests full of money to and fro, and opening and clapping down the lids of them. Their hill-dwellings are very magnificent inside. "They live," said one of Mr. Arndt's guides, "in fine houses of gold and crystal. My father saw them once in the night, when the hill was open on St. John's night. They were dancing and drinking, and it seemed to him as if they were making signs to him to go to them, but his horse snorted, and carried him away, whether he would or no. There is a great number of them in the Guldberg (Goldhill), and they have brought into it all the gold and silver that people buried in the great Russian war."[153]
They are obliging and neighbourly; freely lending and borrowing, and elsewise keeping up a friendly intercourse with mankind. But they have a sad propensity to thieving, not only stealing provisions, but even women and children.
They marry, have children, bake and brew, just as the peasant himself does. A farmer one day met a hill-man and his wife, and a whole squad of stumpy little children, in his fields;[154]and people used often to see the children of the man who lived in the hill of Kund, in Jutland, climbing up the hill, and rolling down after one another, with shouts of laughter.
The Trolls have a great dislike to noise, probably from a recollection of the time when Thor used to be flinging his hammer after them; so that the hanging of bells in the churches has driven them almost all out of the country. The people of Ebeltoft were once sadly plagued by them, as they plundered their pantries in a most unconscionable manner; sothey consulted a very wise and pious man; and his advice was, that they should hang a bell in the steeple of the church. They did so, and they were soon eased of the Trolls.[155]
These beings have some very extraordinary and useful properties; they can, for instance, go about invisibly,[156]or turn themselves into any shape; they can foresee future events; they can confer prosperity, or the contrary, on a family; they can bestow bodily strength on any one; and, in short, perform numerous feats beyond the power of man.
Of personal beauty they have not much to boast: the Ebeltoft Dwarfs, mentioned above, were often seen, and they had immoderate humps on their backs, and long crooked noses. They were dressed in gray jackets,[157]and they wore pointed red caps. Old people in Zealand say, that when the Trolls were in the country, they used to go from their hill to the village of Gudmandstrup through the Stone-meadow, and that people, when passing that way, used to meet great tall men in long black clothes. Some have foolishly spoken to them, and wished them good evening, but they never got any other answer than that the Trolls hurried past them, saying, Mi! mi! mi! mi!
Thanks to the industry of Mr. Thiele, who has been indefatigable in collecting the traditions of his native country, we are furnished with ample accounts of the Trolls; and the following legends will fully illustrate what we have written concerning them.[158]
We commence with the Swedish ballads of the Hill-kings, as in dignity and antiquity they take precedence of the legends.
And it was the knight Sir Thynnè,He was a knight so grave;Whether he were on foot or on horse,He was a knight so brave.[159]And it was the knight Sir ThynnèWent the hart and the hind to shoot,So he saw Ulva, the little Dwarf's daughter,At the green linden's foot.And it was Ulva, the little Dwarf's daughter,Unto her handmaid she cried,"Go fetch my gold harp hither to me,Sir Thynnè I'll draw to my side."The first stroke on her gold harp she struck,So sweetly she made it ring,The wild beasts in the wood and fieldThey forgot whither they would spring.The next stroke on her gold harp she struck,So sweetly she made it ring,The little gray hawk that sat on the bough,He spread out both his wings.The third stroke on her gold harp she struck,So sweetly she made it ring,The little fish that went in the stream,He forgot whither he would swim.Then flowered the mead, then leafed all,'Twas caused by the runic lay;[160]Sir Thynnè he struck his spurs in his horse,He no longer could hold him away.And it was the knight Sir Thynnè,From his horse he springs hastily,So goeth he to Ulva, the little Dwarf's daughter,All under the green linden tree."Here you sit, my maiden fair,A rose all lilies above;See you can never a mortal manWho will not seek your love.""Be silent, be silent, now Sir Thynnè,With your proffers of love, I pray;For I am betrothed unto a hill-king,A king all the Dwarfs obey."My true love he sitteth the hill within,And at gold tables plays merrily;My father he setteth his champions in ring,And in iron arrayeth them he."My mother she sitteth the hill within,And gold in the chest doth lay;And I stole out for a little while,Upon my gold harp to play."And it was the knight Sir Thynnè,He patted her cheek rosie:"Why wilt thou not give a kinder reply,Thou dearest of maidens, to me?""I can give you no kinder reply:I may not myself that allow;I am betrothed to a hill-king,And to him I must keep my vow."And it was Thora, the little Dwarf's wife,She at the hill-door looked out,And there she saw how the knight Sir Thynnè,Lay at the green linden's foot.And it was Thora, the little Dwarf's wife,She was vext and angry, God wot:"What hast thou here in the grove to do?Little business, I trow, thou hast got."'Twere better for thee in the hill to be,And gold in the chest to lay,Than here to sit in the rosy grove,[161]And on thy gold harp to play."And 'twere better for thee in the hill to be,And thy bride-dress finish sewíng,Than sit under the lind, and with runic layA Christian man's heart to thee win."And it was Ulva, the little Dwarf's daughter,She goeth in at the hill-door:And after her goeth the knight Sir Thynnè,Clothed in scarlet and fur.And it was Thora, the little Dwarf's wife,Forth a red-gold chair she drew:Then she cast Sir Thynnè into a sleepUntil that the cock he crew.And it was Thora, the little Dwarf's wife,The five rune-books she took out;So she loosed him fully out of the runes,Her daughter had bound him about."And hear thou me, Sir Thynnè,From the runes thou now art free;This to thee I will soothly say,My daughter shall never win thee."And I was born of Christian kind,And to the hill stolen in;My sister dwelleth in Iseland,[162]And wears a gold crown so fine."And there she wears her crown of gold,And beareth of queen the name;Her daughter was stolen away from her,Thereof there goeth great fame."Her daughter was stolen away from her,And to Berner-land brought in;And there now dwelleth the maiden free,She is called Lady Hermolin."And never can she into the dance go,But seven women follow her;And never can she on the gold-harp play,If the queen herself is not there."The king he hath a sister's son,He hopeth the crown to possess,For him they intend the maiden free,For her little happiness."And this for my honour will I do,And out of good-will moreover,To thee will I give the maiden free,And part her from that lover."Then she gave unto him a dress so new,With gold and pearls bedight;Every seam on the dress it wasWith precious stones all bright.Then she gave unto him a horse so good,And therewith a new sell;"And never shalt thou the way inquire,Thy horse will find it well."And it was Ulva, the little Dwarf's daughter,She would show her good-will to the knight;So she gave unto him a spear so new,And therewith a good sword so bright."And never shalt thou fight a fight,Where thou shalt not the victory gain;And never shalt thou sail on a seaWhere thou shalt not the land attain."And it was Thora, the little Dwarf's wife,She wine in a glass for him poured:"Ride away, ride away, now Sir Thynnè,Before the return of my lord."And it was the knight Sir Thynnè,He rideth under the green hill side,There then met him the hill-kings two.As slow to the hill they ride."Well met! Good day, now Sir Thynnè!Thy horse can well with thee pace;Whither directed is thy course?Since thou'rt bound to a distant place.""Travel shall I and woo;Plight me shall I a flower;Try shall I my sword so good,To my weal or my woe in the stour.""Ride in peace, ride in peace, away, Sir Thynnè,From us thou hast nought to fear;They are coming, the champions from Iseland,Who with thee long to break a spear."And it was the knight Sir Thynnè,He rideth under the green hill side;There met him seven Bernisk champions,They bid him to halt and abide."And whether shall we fight to-day,For the red gold and the silvér;Or shall we fight together to-day,For both our true loves fair?"And it was the king's sister's son,He was of mood so hastý;"Of silver and gold I have enow,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 freeWho so long had languished there.And now hath Lady HermolinEscaped from all harm;Now sleeps she sweet full many a sleep,On brave Sir Thynnè's arm.And now has brave Sir ThynnèEscaped all sorrow and tine;Now sleeps he sweet full many a sleep,Beside Lady Hermolin.Most thanketh he Ulva, the little Dwarf's daughterWho him with the runes had bound,For were he not come inside of the hill,The lady he never had found.[164]
And it was the knight Sir Thynnè,He was a knight so grave;Whether he were on foot or on horse,He was a knight so brave.[159]
And it was the knight Sir ThynnèWent the hart and the hind to shoot,So he saw Ulva, the little Dwarf's daughter,At the green linden's foot.
And it was Ulva, the little Dwarf's daughter,Unto her handmaid she cried,"Go fetch my gold harp hither to me,Sir Thynnè I'll draw to my side."
The first stroke on her gold harp she struck,So sweetly she made it ring,The wild beasts in the wood and fieldThey forgot whither they would spring.
The next stroke on her gold harp she struck,So sweetly she made it ring,The little gray hawk that sat on the bough,He spread out both his wings.
The third stroke on her gold harp she struck,So sweetly she made it ring,The little fish that went in the stream,He forgot whither he would swim.
Then flowered the mead, then leafed all,'Twas caused by the runic lay;[160]Sir Thynnè he struck his spurs in his horse,He no longer could hold him away.
And it was the knight Sir Thynnè,From his horse he springs hastily,So goeth he to Ulva, the little Dwarf's daughter,All under the green linden tree.
"Here you sit, my maiden fair,A rose all lilies above;See you can never a mortal manWho will not seek your love."
"Be silent, be silent, now Sir Thynnè,With your proffers of love, I pray;For I am betrothed unto a hill-king,A king all the Dwarfs obey.
"My true love he sitteth the hill within,And at gold tables plays merrily;My father he setteth his champions in ring,And in iron arrayeth them he.
"My mother she sitteth the hill within,And gold in the chest doth lay;And I stole out for a little while,Upon my gold harp to play."
And it was the knight Sir Thynnè,He patted her cheek rosie:"Why wilt thou not give a kinder reply,Thou dearest of maidens, to me?"
"I can give you no kinder reply:I may not myself that allow;I am betrothed to a hill-king,And to him I must keep my vow."
And it was Thora, the little Dwarf's wife,She at the hill-door looked out,And there she saw how the knight Sir Thynnè,Lay at the green linden's foot.
And it was Thora, the little Dwarf's wife,She was vext and angry, God wot:"What hast thou here in the grove to do?Little business, I trow, thou hast got.
"'Twere better for thee in the hill to be,And gold in the chest to lay,Than here to sit in the rosy grove,[161]And on thy gold harp to play.
"And 'twere better for thee in the hill to be,And thy bride-dress finish sewíng,Than sit under the lind, and with runic layA Christian man's heart to thee win."
And it was Ulva, the little Dwarf's daughter,She goeth in at the hill-door:And after her goeth the knight Sir Thynnè,Clothed in scarlet and fur.
And it was Thora, the little Dwarf's wife,Forth a red-gold chair she drew:Then she cast Sir Thynnè into a sleepUntil that the cock he crew.
And it was Thora, the little Dwarf's wife,The five rune-books she took out;So she loosed him fully out of the runes,Her daughter had bound him about.
"And hear thou me, Sir Thynnè,From the runes thou now art free;This to thee I will soothly say,My daughter shall never win thee.
"And I was born of Christian kind,And to the hill stolen in;My sister dwelleth in Iseland,[162]And wears a gold crown so fine.
"And there she wears her crown of gold,And beareth of queen the name;Her daughter was stolen away from her,Thereof there goeth great fame.
"Her daughter was stolen away from her,And to Berner-land brought in;And there now dwelleth the maiden free,She is called Lady Hermolin.
"And never can she into the dance go,But seven women follow her;And never can she on the gold-harp play,If the queen herself is not there.
"The king he hath a sister's son,He hopeth the crown to possess,For him they intend the maiden free,For her little happiness.
"And this for my honour will I do,And out of good-will moreover,To thee will I give the maiden free,And part her from that lover."
Then she gave unto him a dress so new,With gold and pearls bedight;Every seam on the dress it wasWith precious stones all bright.
Then she gave unto him a horse so good,And therewith a new sell;"And never shalt thou the way inquire,Thy horse will find it well."
And it was Ulva, the little Dwarf's daughter,She would show her good-will to the knight;So she gave unto him a spear so new,And therewith a good sword so bright.
"And never shalt thou fight a fight,Where thou shalt not the victory gain;And never shalt thou sail on a seaWhere thou shalt not the land attain."
And it was Thora, the little Dwarf's wife,She wine in a glass for him poured:"Ride away, ride away, now Sir Thynnè,Before the return of my lord."
And it was the knight Sir Thynnè,He rideth under the green hill side,There then met him the hill-kings two.As slow to the hill they ride.
"Well met! Good day, now Sir Thynnè!Thy horse can well with thee pace;Whither directed is thy course?Since thou'rt bound to a distant place."
"Travel shall I and woo;Plight me shall I a flower;Try shall I my sword so good,To my weal or my woe in the stour."
"Ride in peace, ride in peace, away, Sir Thynnè,From us thou hast nought to fear;They are coming, the champions from Iseland,Who with thee long to break a spear."
And it was the knight Sir Thynnè,He rideth under the green hill side;There met him seven Bernisk champions,They bid him to halt and abide.
"And whether shall we fight to-day,For the red gold and the silvér;Or shall we fight together to-day,For both our true loves fair?"
And it was the king's sister's son,He was of mood so hastý;"Of silver and gold I have enow,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 freeWho so long had languished there.
And now hath Lady HermolinEscaped from all harm;Now sleeps she sweet full many a sleep,On brave Sir Thynnè's arm.
And now has brave Sir ThynnèEscaped all sorrow and tine;Now sleeps he sweet full many a sleep,Beside Lady Hermolin.
Most thanketh he Ulva, the little Dwarf's daughterWho him with the runes had bound,For were he not come inside of the hill,The lady he never had found.[164]
Proud Margaret's[165]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 may I wear a veil on my head,"Time with me goes slow.—"Me hath the hill-king both wooed and wed,"But that grief is heavy I know."In the hill have I been these eight round years,"Time with me goes slow.—"There have I two sons and a daughter so fair,"But that grief is heavy I know."There have I two sons and a daughter so fair,"Time with me goes slow.—"The loveliest maiden the world doth bear,"But that grief is heavy I know."And hear thou, proud Margaret, what I say unto thee,"Time with me goes slow.—"Can I go with thee home thy children to see?"But that grief is heavy I know.And the hill-king stept now in at the door,Time with me goes slow.—And Margaret thereat fell down on the floor,But that grief is heavy I know."And stayest thou now here complaining of me,"Time with me goes slow.—"Camest thou not of thyself into the hill to me?"But that grief is heavy I know."And stayest thou now here and thy fate dost deplore?"Time with me goes slow.—"Camest thou not of thyself in at my door?"But that grief is heavy I know.The hill-king struck her on the cheek rosie,Time with me goes slow.—"And pack to the hill to thy children wee,"But that grief is heavy I know.The hill-king struck her with a twisted root,Time with me goes slow.—"And pack to the hill without any dispute,"But that grief is heavy I know.And the hill-king her in his arms has ta'en,Time with me goes slow.—And lifted her into the gilded wain,But that grief is heavy I know."And hear thou my footpage what I unto thee say,"Time with me goes slow.—"Thou now shalt drive her to my dwelling straightway,"But that grief is heavy I know.Proud Margaret stept in at the hill door,Time with me goes slow.—And her little children rejoiced therefòre,But that grief is heavy I know."It is not worth while rejoicing for me,"Time with me goes slow.—"Christ grant that I never a mother had been,"But that grief is heavy I know.The one brought out a gilded chair,Time with me goes slow.—"O rest you, my sorrow-bound mother, there,"But that grief is heavy I know.The one brought out a filled up horn,Time with me goes slow.—The other put therein a gilded corn,But that grief is heavy I know.The first drink she drank out of the horn,Time with me goes slow.—She forgot straightway both heaven and earth,But that grief is heavy I know.The second drink she drank out of the horn,Time with me goes slow.—She forgot straightway both God and his word,But that grief is heavy I know.The third drink she drank out of the horn,Time with me goes slow.—She forgot straightway both sister and brother,But that grief is heavy I know.She forgot straightway both sister and brother,Time with me goes slow.—But she never forgot her sorrow-bound mother,But that grief is heavy I know.[168]
Proud Margaret's[165]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 may I wear a veil on my head,"Time with me goes slow.—"Me hath the hill-king both wooed and wed,"But that grief is heavy I know.
"In the hill have I been these eight round years,"Time with me goes slow.—"There have I two sons and a daughter so fair,"But that grief is heavy I know.
"There have I two sons and a daughter so fair,"Time with me goes slow.—"The loveliest maiden the world doth bear,"But that grief is heavy I know.
"And hear thou, proud Margaret, what I say unto thee,"Time with me goes slow.—"Can I go with thee home thy children to see?"But that grief is heavy I know.
And the hill-king stept now in at the door,Time with me goes slow.—And Margaret thereat fell down on the floor,But that grief is heavy I know.
"And stayest thou now here complaining of me,"Time with me goes slow.—"Camest thou not of thyself into the hill to me?"But that grief is heavy I know.
"And stayest thou now here and thy fate dost deplore?"Time with me goes slow.—"Camest thou not of thyself in at my door?"But that grief is heavy I know.
The hill-king struck her on the cheek rosie,Time with me goes slow.—"And pack to the hill to thy children wee,"But that grief is heavy I know.
The hill-king struck her with a twisted root,Time with me goes slow.—"And pack to the hill without any dispute,"But that grief is heavy I know.
And the hill-king her in his arms has ta'en,Time with me goes slow.—And lifted her into the gilded wain,But that grief is heavy I know.
"And hear thou my footpage what I unto thee say,"Time with me goes slow.—"Thou now shalt drive her to my dwelling straightway,"But that grief is heavy I know.
Proud Margaret stept in at the hill door,Time with me goes slow.—And her little children rejoiced therefòre,But that grief is heavy I know.
"It is not worth while rejoicing for me,"Time with me goes slow.—"Christ grant that I never a mother had been,"But that grief is heavy I know.
The one brought out a gilded chair,Time with me goes slow.—"O rest you, my sorrow-bound mother, there,"But that grief is heavy I know.
The one brought out a filled up horn,Time with me goes slow.—The other put therein a gilded corn,But that grief is heavy I know.
The first drink she drank out of the horn,Time with me goes slow.—She forgot straightway both heaven and earth,But that grief is heavy I know.
The second drink she drank out of the horn,Time with me goes slow.—She forgot straightway both God and his word,But that grief is heavy I know.
The third drink she drank out of the horn,Time with me goes slow.—She forgot straightway both sister and brother,But that grief is heavy I know.
She forgot straightway both sister and brother,Time with me goes slow.—But she never forgot her sorrow-bound mother,But that grief is heavy I know.[168]
The grandfather of Reor, who dwelt at Fuglekärr (i.e.Bird-marsh), in the parish of Svartsborg (Black-castle), lived close to a hill, and one time, in the broad daylight, he saw sitting there on a stone a comely maiden. He wished to intercept her, and for this purposehe threw steelbetween her and the hill; whereupon her father laughed within the hill, and opening the hill-door asked him if he would have his daughter. He replied in the affirmative and as she wasstark nakedhe took some of his own clothes and covered her with them, and he afterwards had her christened. As he was going away, her father said to him, "When you are going to have your wedding (bröllup) you must provide twelve barrels of beer and bake a heap of bread and the flesh of four oxen, and drive to the barrow or hill where I keep, and when the bridal gifts are to be bestowed, depend on it I will give mine." This also came to pass; for whenothers were giving he raised the cover of the cart and cast into it so large a bag of money that the body of it nearly broke, saying at the same time:—"This ismygift!" He said, moreover, "When you want to have your wife's portion (hemmagifta),[169]you must drive to the hill with four horses, and get your share. When he came there afterwards at his desire he got copper-pots, the one larger than the other till the largest pot of all was filled with the smaller ones. He also gave him other things,[170]which were helmets, of that colour and fashion which are large and thick, and which are still remaining in the country, being preserved at the parsonage of Tanum. This man Reor's father surnamed I Foglekärsten, had a number of children by this wife of his, whom he fetched out of the hill, among whom was the aforesaid Reor. Olaf Stenson also in Stora Rijk, who died last year, was Reor's sister's son.[171]
Between the villages of Marup and Aagerup in Zealand, there is said to have lain a great castle, the ruins of which are still to be seen near the strand. Tradition relates that a great treasure is concealed among them, and that a dragon there watches over three kings' ransoms.[172]Here, too, people frequently happen to get a sight of the underground folk, especially about festival-times, for then they have dancing and great jollity going on down on the strand.
One Christmas-eve, a farmer's servant in the village ofAagerup went to his master and asked him if he might take a horse and ride down to look at the Troll-meeting. The farmer not only gave him leave but desired him to take the best horse in the stable; so he mounted and rode away down to the strand. When he was come to the place he stopped his horse, and stood for some time looking at the company who were assembled in great numbers. And while he was wondering to see how well and how gaily the little dwarfs danced, up came a Troll to him, and invited him to dismount, and take a share in their dancing and merriment. Another Troll came jumping up, took his horse by the bridle, and held him while the man got off, and went down and danced away merrily with them the whole night long.
When it was drawing near day he returned them his very best thanks for his entertainment, and mounted his horse to return home to Aagerup. They now gave him an invitation to come again on New-year's night, as they were then to have great festivity; and a maiden who held a gold cup in her hand invited him to drink the stirrup-cup. He took the cup; but, as he had some suspicion of them, he, while he made as if he was raising the cup to his mouth, threw the drink out over his shoulder, so that it fell on the horse's back, and it immediately singed off all the hair. He then clapped spurs to his horse's sides, and rode away with the cup in his hand over a ploughed field.
The Trolls instantly gave chase all in a body; but being hard set to get over the deep furrows, they shouted out, without ceasing,