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Title: The Lay Of Christine
Author: William Morris [
More Titles by Morris]
TRANSLATED FROM THE ICELANDIC.
Of silk my gear was shapen,
Scarlet they did on me,
Then to the sea-strand was I borne
And laid in a bark of the sea.
_O well were I from the World away_.
Befell it there I might not drown,
For God to me was good;
The billows bare me up a-land
Where grew the fair green-wood.
_O well were I from the World away_.
There came a Knight a-riding
With three swains along the way
And he took me up, the little-one,
On the sea-sand as I lay.
_O well were I from the World away_.
He took me up, and bare me home
To the house that was his own,
And there bode I so long with him
That I was his love alone.
_O well were I from the World away_.
But the very first night we lay abed
Befell his sorrow and harm,
That thither came the King's ill men,
And slew him on mine arm.
_O well were I from the World away_.
There slew they Adalbright the King,
Two of his swains slew they,
But the third sailed swiftly from the land
Sithence I saw him never a day.
_O well were I from the World away_.
O wavering hope of this world's bliss,
How shall men trow in thee?
My Grove of Gems is gone away
For mine eyes no more to see!
_O well were I from the World away_.
Each hour the while my life shall last
Remembereth him alone,
Such heavy sorrow have I got
From our meeting long agone.
_O well were I from the World away_.
O, early in the morning-tide
Men cry: "Christine the fair,
Art thou well content with that true love
Thou sittest loving there?"
_O well were I from the World away_.
Ah, yea, so well I love him,
And so dear my love shall be,
That the very God of Heaven aloft
Worshippeth him and me.
_O well were I from the World away_.
"Ah, all the red gold I have got
Well would I give to-day,
Only for this and nothing else
From the world to win away."
_O well were I from the World away_.
"Nay, midst all folk upon the earth
Keep thou thy ruddy gold,
And love withal the mighty lord
That wedded thee of old."
_O well were I from the World away_.
[The end]
William Morris's poem: Lay Of Christine
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