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Title: The Count Of Vendel's Daughter
Author: George Borrow [
More Titles by Borrow]
Within a bower the womb I left,
'Midst dames and maids who stood to aid;
They wrapped me first in silken weft,
And next in scarlet red array'd.
But a stepdame soon 'twas my lot to get,
And fierce and wild she proved to me;
Within a coffer me she set,
And pushed it out upon the sea.
By one wave I was borne to land,
And by the next away was ta'en;
But God on High, it seems, had plann'd,
That I should footing there obtain.
The tide it drove me to the shore,
And in its backward course retook;
Sure ne'er had child of king before
Such buffeting on sea to brook.
But God He help'd me, so that I
Was cast above the billows' reach;
And soon a savage wolf drew nigh,
Was prowling on the sandy beach.
Soon prowling came a wolf so gray,
And me up-taking in his jaws,
He carried me with care away
Deep, deep into the forest shaws.
That self-same wolf he was so kind
That me beneath a tree he laid;
And then came running a nimble hind,
And me unto its lair convey'd.
There me for winter one she nurs'd--
She nursed me for two winters' space.
To creep, to creep, I learnt at first,
And next I learnt to pace, to pace.
And I was full eight years, I wot,
Within the quiet, green retreat.
Close couched beside the hind I got
Full many a slumber calm and sweet.
I had clothes and shelter of no kind,
Except the linden green alone;
And, save the gentle forest hind,
Had nurse and foster-mother none.
But forth on courser reeking hot
There rushed a knight of bearing bold,
And he my foster-mother shot
With arrow on the verdant wold.
He pierced the hind with mortal wound,
And all our fond connection cut;
Then wrapped his cloak my frame around,
And me within his buckler put.
That self-same knight, so bold and strong,
Within his bower the foundling bred;
He tended me both well and long,
And finally his bride he made.
He had by long inquiry found
My father was a noble count
In Vendel's land, who castles own'd,
And rul'd o'er many a plain and mount.
The first night we together slept
Was fraught with woe of darkest hue;
Foes, whom he long at bay had kept,
Broke in on us, and him they slew.
The night we lay together first
A deed of horror was fulfill'd;
The bride-house door his foemen burst,
And in my arms my husband kill'd.
Soon, soon, my friends to counsel go,
A husband new they chose for me;
The cloister's prior of mitred brow--
The good Sir Nilaus styl'd was he.
But soon as I the threshold cross'd,
The nuns could not their fury smother;
They vow'd by God and all His Host,
The Prior Nilaus was my brother.
Forth from the cloister him they drew,
They pelted him to death with stones;
I stood close by, and all could view,
I scarce could hear his piteous moans.
Once more my friends to counsel hied,
For me another spouse they get--
Son of the King of England wide
Was he, and hight Sir Engelbret.
Nine winters with that princely youth
I lived; of joy we had no dearth,
I tell to ye, for sooth and truth,
To ten fair sons that I gave birth.
But pirate crews the land beset,
No one, no one, my grief could tell;
They slew with sword Sir Engelbret,
And nine of my fair sons as well.
My husband and my sons with brand
They slew. How I bewail their case!
My tenth son here they from the land--
I never more shall see his face.
Now is my care as complicate
As golden threads which maidens spin;
God crown with bliss Sir Engelbret,
He ever was so free from sin.
But now I'll take the holy vows,
Within the cloister under Ey;
I'll ne'er become another's spouse,
But in religion I will die.
But first to all the country side
I will declare my bosom's grief;
I find, the more my grief I hide,
The less, the less, is my relief.
[The end]
George Borrow's poem: The Count Of Vendel's Daughter
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