Part 18

But what befel King Diderik's men? When the giant they first perceiv'd, They all stopp'd short, in the good green wood, Of courage at once bereav'd.

They thought the giant verily would That moment after them stride: Not one of them all would have battled with him; Back would they all have hied.

It was Vidrik Verlandson, He laugh'd at their craven fear: "How would ye have fac'd him when alive, Ye dare not him, dead, go near?

With his lance's haft the body he push'd, The head came toppling down: That the Giant was a warrior stark, Forsooth, I am forc'd to own.

Out took they then his ruddy gold, And shar'd it amongst the band: To Vidrik came the largest part, For 't was earn'd with his good hand.

Little car'd he for the booty, I ween, But he thought of his meed of fame; When men should say, in the Danish land, That the Giant he overcame.

So gladly rode they to Bern again; King Diderik gladdest of all: There caus'd he Vidrik Verlandson To sit next him in the hall.

ELVIR HILL. FROM THE OLD DANISH.

Upon this Ballad Oehlenslaeger founded his "Elvir Shades," a translation of which has already been given.

I rested my head upon Elvir Hill's side, and my eyes were beginning to slumber; That moment there rose up before me two maids, whose charms would take ages to number.

One patted my face, and the other exclaim'd, while loading my cheek with her kisses, "Rise, rise, for to dance with you here we have sped from the undermost caves and abysses.

"Rise, fair-headed swain, and refuse not to dance; and I and my sister will sing thee The loveliest ditties that ever were heard, and the prettiest presents will bring thee."

Then both of them sang so delightful a song, that the boisterous river before us Stood suddenly quiet and placid, as though 't were afraid to disturb the sweet chorus.

The boisterous stream stood suddenly still, though accustom'd to foam and to bellow; And, fearless, the trout play'd along with the pike, and the pike play'd with him as his fellow.

The fishes, whose dwelling was deep in the flood, up, up from their caverns did sally; The gay little birds of the forest began to warble, forthwith, in the valley.

"Now, listen thou fair-headed swain, and if thou wilt stand up and dance for a minute, We'll teach thee to open the sorcerer's book, and to read all the Runic that's in it.

"The bear and the wolf thou shalt trammel, unto the thick stem of the oak, at thy pleasure; Before thee the dragon shall fly from his nest, and shall leave thee sole lord of his treasure."

Then about and around on the moonlight hill, in their fairy fashion they sported, While unmov'd sat the gallant and fair young swain, whom they, in their wantonness, courted.

"And wilt thou not grant us our civil request, proud stripling, and wilt thou deny it? By hell's ruddy blazes, our gold-handled knife shall lay thee for ever in quiet."

And if my good luck had not manag'd it so, that the cock crew out, then, in the distance, I should have been murder'd by them, on the hill, without power to offer resistance.

'T is therefore I counsel each young Danish swain, who may ride in the forest so dreary, Ne'er to lay down upon lone Elvir Hill though he chance to be ever so weary.

WALDEMAR'S CHASE.

The following Ballad is merely a versification of one of the many feats of Waldemar, the famed phantom hunter of the North, an account of whom, and of Palnatoka and Groon the Jutt, both spectres of a similar character, may be found in Thiele's Danske Folkesagn.

Late at eve they were toiling on Harribee bank, For in harvest men ne'er should be idle: Towards them rode Waldemar, meagre and lank, And he linger'd and drew up his bridle.

"Success to your labour; and have ye to night Seen any thing pass ye, while reaping?" "Yes, yes;" said a peasant, "I saw something white, Just now, through the corn-stubble creeping."

"Which way did it go?" "Why methought to the beach." Then off went Waldemar bounding; A few minutes after, they heard a faint screech, And the horn of the hunter resounding.

Then back came he, laughing in horrible tone, And the blood in their veins ran the colder, When they saw that a fresh-slaughter'd mermaid was thrown Athwart his proud barb's dappled shoulder.

Said he, "I have chas'd her for seven score years, As she landed to drink at the fountains." No more did he deign to their terrified ears, But gallop'd away to the mountains.