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Translated by John Greenleaf Whittier
WHERE, over heathen doom-rings and gray stones of the Horg, | |
| In its little Christian city stands the church of Vordingborg, | |
| In merry mood King Volmer sat, forgetful of his power, | |
| As idle as the Goose of Gold that brooded on his tower. | |
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| Out spake the king to Henrik, his young and faithful squire: | 5 |
| “Dar’st trust thy little Elsie, the maid of thy desire?” | |
| “Of all the men in Denmark she loveth only me; | |
| As true to me is Elsie as thy Lily is to thee.” | |
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| Loud laughed the king: “To-morrow shall bring another day, | |
| When I myself will test her; she will not say me nay.” | 10 |
| Thereat the lords and gallants, that round about him stood, | |
| Wagged all their heads in concert and smiled as courtiers should. | |
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| The gray lark sings o’er Vordingborg, and on the ancient town | |
| From the tall tower of Valdemar the Golden Goose looks down: | |
| The yellow grain is waving in the pleasant wind of morn, | 15 |
| The wood resounds with cry of hounds and blare of hunter’s horn. | |
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| In the garden of her father little Elsie sits and spins, | |
| And, singing with the early birds, her daily task begins. | |
| Gay tulips bloom and sweet mint curls around her garden-bower, | |
| But she is sweeter than the mint and fairer than the flower. | 20 |
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| About her form her kirtle blue clings lovingly, and, white | |
| As snow, her loose sleeves only leave her small, round wrists in sight; | |
| Below the modest petticoat can only half conceal | |
| The motion of the lightest foot that ever turned a wheel. | |
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| The cat sits purring at her side, bees hum in sunshine warm; | 25 |
| But, look! she starts, she lifts her face, she shades it with her arm. | |
| And, hark! a train of horsemen, with sound of dog and horn, | |
| Come leaping o’er the ditches, come trampling down the corn! | |
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| Merrily rang the bridle-reins, and scarf and plume streamed gay, | |
| As fast beside her father’s gate the riders held their way; | 30 |
| And one was brave in scarlet coat, with golden spur on heel, | |
| And, as he checked his foaming steed, the maiden checked her wheel. | |
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| “All hail among thy roses, the fairest rose to me! | |
| For weary months in secret my heart has longed for thee!” | |
| What noble knight was this? What words for modest maiden’s ear? | 35 |
| She dropped a lowly courtesy of bashfulness and fear. | |
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| She lifted up her spinning-wheel; she fain would seek the door, | |
| Trembling in every limb, her cheek with blushes crimsoned o’er. | |
| “Nay, fear me not,” the rider said, “I offer heart and hand, | |
| Bear witness these good Danish knights who round about me stand. | 40 |
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| “I grant you time to think of this, to answer as you may, | |
| For to-morrow, little Elsie, shall bring another day.” | |
| He spake the old phrase slyly as, glancing round his train, | |
| He saw his merry followers seek to hide their smiles in vain. | |
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| “The snow of pearls I ’ll scatter in your curls of golden hair, | 45 |
| I ’ll line with furs the velvet of the kirtle that you wear; | |
| All precious gems shall twine your neck; and in a chariot gay | |
| You shall ride, my little Elsie, behind four steeds of gray. | |
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| “And harps shall sound, and flutes shall play, and brazen lamps shall glow; | |
| On marble floors your feet shall weave the dances to and fro. | 50 |
| At frosty eventide for us the blazing hearth shall shine, | |
| While, at our ease, we play at draughts, and drink the blood-red wine.” | |
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| Then Elsie raised her head and met her wooer face to face; | |
| A roguish smile shone in her eye and on her lip found place. | |
| Back from her low white forehead the curls of gold she threw, | 55 |
| And lifted up her eyes to his, steady and clear and blue. | |
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| “I am a lowly peasant, and you a gallant knight; | |
| I will not trust a love that soon may cool and turn to slight. | |
| If you would wed me henceforth be a peasant, not a lord; | |
| I bid you hang upon the wall your tried and trusty sword.” | 60 |
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| “To please you, Elsie, I will lay keen Dynadel away, | |
| And in its place will swing the scythe and mow your father’s hay.” | |
| “Nay, but your gallant scarlet cloak my eyes can never bear; | |
| A Vadmal coat, so plain and gray, is all that you must wear.” | |
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| “Well, Vadmal will I wear for you,” the rider gayly spoke, | 65 |
| “And on the Lord’s high altar I ’ll lay my scarlet cloak.” | |
| “But mark,” she said, “no stately horse my peasant love must ride, | |
| A yoke of steers before the plough is all that he must guide.” | |
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| The knight looked down upon his steed: “Well, let him wander free: | |
| No other man must ride the horse that has been backed by me. | 70 |
| Henceforth I ’ll tread the furrow and to my oxen talk, | |
| If only little Elsie beside my plough will walk.” | |
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| “You must take from out your cellar cask of wine and flask and can; | |
| The homely mead I brew you may serve a peasant-man.” | |
| “Most willingly, fair Elsie, I ’ll drink that mead of thine, | 75 |
| And leave my minstrel’s thirsty throat to drain my generous wine.” | |
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| “Now break your shield asunder, and shatter sign and boss, | |
| Unmeet for peasant-wedded arms, your knightly knee across. | |
| And pull me down your castle from top to basement wall, | |
| And let your plough trace furrows in the ruins of your hall!” | 80 |
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| Then smiled he with a lofty pride; right well at last he knew | |
| The maiden of the spinning-wheel was to her troth-plight true. | |
| “Ah, roguish little Elsie! you act your part full well: | |
| You know that I must bear my shield and in my castle dwell! | |
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| “The lions ramping on that shield between the hearts aflame | 85 |
| Keep watch o’er Denmark’s honor, and guard her ancient name. | |
| For know that I am Volmer; I dwell in yonder towers. | |
| Who ploughs them ploughs up Denmark, this goodly home of ours! | |
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| “I tempt no more, fair Elsie! your heart I know is true; | |
| Would God that all our maidens were good and pure as you! | 90 |
| Well have you pleased your monarch, and he shall well repay; | |
| God’s peace! Farewell! To-morrow will bring another day!” | |
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| He lifted up his bridle hand, he spurred his good steed then, | |
| And like a whirl-blast swept away with all his gallant men. | |
| The steel hoofs beat the rocky path; again on winds of morn | 95 |
| The wood resounds with cry of hounds and blare of hunter’s horn. | |
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| “Thou true and ever faithful!” the listening Henrik cried; | |
| And, leaping o’er the green hedge, he stood by Elsie’s side. | |
| None saw the fond embracing, save, shining from afar, | |
| The Golden Goose that watched them from the tower of Valdemar. | 100 |
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| O darling girls of Denmark! of all the flowers that throng | |
| Her vales of spring the fairest, I sing for you my song. | |
| No praise as yours so bravely rewards the singer’s skill; | |
| Thank God! of maids like Elsie the land has plenty still! | |
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