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A poem by George Borrow

Rosmer Mereman

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Title:     Rosmer Mereman
Author: George Borrow [More Titles by Borrow]

In Denmark once a lady dwelt,
Hellelil the name she bore;
A castle new that lady built,
It shone all Denmark o'er.

Her daughter dear was stolen away,
She sought for her far and near;
The more she sought the less she found,
To her great distress and care.

She bid a noble ship be built,
Therein gilt masts did stand;
With valiant knights and courtmen bold
She caused it to be manned.

Her sons she followed to the strand,
With many a fond caress;
For eight long years they sailed away,
Enduring much distress.

For eight years had they sailed away,
So long they thought the tide,
When they sailed before a lofty hill,
And straight to land they hied.

Then peeped the Damsel Swanelil
Forth from the mountain brow:
"O whence can be these stranger swains,
As guests that seek us now?"

The youngest brother then replied,
So ready of speech was he:
"A widow's three poor sons we are,
So long we've sailed the sea.

"Dame Hellelil our mother is,
We were born on Denmark's ground;
From us our sister stolen was,
And her we have yet not found."

"If thou wert born on Danish ground,
And Dame Hellelil be thy mother
Then I thy beloved sister am
And thou art my youngest brother.

"Now do thou hear, my youngest brother,
Why didst not at home remain?
If thou hadst a thousand thousand lives
Thou none of them couldst retain."

She placed him in the smallest nook
She could in the house espy:
She bade him for sake of the highest God,
Neither to laugh nor cry.

Rosmer came from the ocean home,
And straight he fell to bann:
"O I can smell by my right hand
That here is a Christian man."

"A Bird with a dead man's shank in its mouth,
Chanced over our house to fly;
He cast it in, I cast it out,
And that full speedily."

A noble meal she then prepared,
And she gave him many a kiss:
"O here is come my sister's son,
It would grieve me him to miss.

"My sister's son is here arrived
From the land where I first drew breath;
Now give him, my lord, thy firm, firm oath,
Thou'lt do unto him no scathe."

"If here has come thy sister's son
From the native land of both,
To do him ne'er any kind of hurt,
I swear by my highest oath."

It was the lofty Rosmer King
To two serving swains did call:
"Bid ye proud Swanelil's sister's son
Attend me in the hall."

It was Swanelil's sister's son,
Before Rosmer should appear;
His heart it fluttered, his body it shivered,
He stood in such mighty fear.

Then took Rosmer her sister's son,
Placed him upon his knee;
He stroked him so tenderly on the face
That 'twas yellow and blue to see.

Then answered proud Dame Swanelil:
"Thou forget'st, Sir Rosmer, mayhap,
Thou hast not fingers small enough
To stroke so little a chap."

And he was there till the years were five,
Then he longed for his native land:
"Now cause, O sister Swanelil,
That I'm set on the yellow strand."

It was proud Dame Swanelil
'Fore Rosmer goes to stand;
"The swain so long has been by the sea,
That he sighs for his native land."

"If the swain has been so long by the sea
That he sighs for his native land,
I will give him a chest of gold,
To be subject to his hand."

"Wilt thou give him a chest of gold,
To be subject to his hand?
Hear thou now, my noble heart's dear,
Take him to his native land."

It was proud Dame Swanelil,
So cunning a trick she played;
She took thereout the ruddy gold all,
And herself in the chest she laid.

He took the man upon his back,
And the chest in his mouth he's ta'en;
And so he went the long, long way
Across the land and the main.

"Now have I borne thee to thy land,
Thou seest both sun and moon;
I conjure thee by the highest God
Name Swanelil to none."

Rosmer sprang into the sea amain,
The water splashed to the sky;
And when he came to the mountain home
No Swanelil could he spy,

When he came to the mountain home
Gone was the belov'd of his heart;
He sprang so wild about the hill,
And changed to a flint rock swart.

There was rejoicing in Hellelil's court,
They rejoiced in many a way;
Back to their friends her children are come,
Who had been so long away.


[The end]
George Borrow's poem: Rosmer Mereman

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