Danish medieval ballad: 'Hr. Torbens datter og hendes faderbane' in English translation

Torbens datter og hendes faderbane

Vi vare saa mange søskende smaa,

              – under lide –

saa aarlig faldt os faderen fraa.

Der dagen han dages, og duggen den driver saa vide.

Om en søndag ad aften skured de deres spjud,

              – under lide –

om en mandag ad morgen rede de saa vrede ud.

       Der dagen han dages, og duggen den driver saa vide.

Der de komme for norden skov,

der gik hr. Torben og holdt sin plov.

‘Her gaar du hr. Torben, favr og fin,

jeg vil nu have bod for frænde min.’

‘Jeg vil give eder hus og gaard,

dertil min datter, saa væn en maar.’

‘Vi er ikke kommen for hus eller jord,

men vi er kommen for dit hjerteblod.’

Saa hugge de hr. torben saa smaa

alt som løv, udi lunden laa.

Saa rede de til hr. Torbens gaard,

ude stod hans datter, den væne maar.

Ude stod hans datter, saa smal som en vaand,

met et guldkar paa hver sin haand.

Hun skænked deri med lyst og spil,

hun drak først sin faders banemand til.

‘Havde jeg vidst, du havde været saa god,

aldrig skulde jeg set din faders hjerteblod.’

‘Og har I slaget min fader til død,

da har I gjort mig saa stor en nød.’

‘Har jeg ikke gjort vel mod dig,

da skal du herefter have saa godt som jeg.’

Han satte hende paa ganger graa,

saa slog han over hende kaaben blaa.

Saa red han over de sorte heder,

              – under lide –

aldrig saa hun sin fader mere.

       Der dagen den dages, og duggen den driver saa vide.

Torben’s daughter and her father’s murderer

We all were his offspring but barely,

              – by the hillside –

when we all lost our father so early.

The day it is dawning, and dew it is drifting so worldwide.

On a Sunday evening their spears they did sharpen,

              – by the hillside –

On a Monday morning they rode, their hearts hardened.

       The day it is dawning, and dew it is drifting so worldwide.

North of the wood rode this fearsome band

and found Sir Torben, tilling his land.

‘Ah, handsome Sir Torben, with your consent,

To avenge my kinsman’s my firm intent.’

‘For this my house, my estate I’ll trade,

also my daughter, so fair a maid.’

‘We have not come here for house or for land,

Your own heart’s blood is what we demand.’

They hacked Sir Torben in pieces so small,

like leaves in the grove they looked withal.

Then off to Sir Torben’s estate they made

outside stood his daughter, the fair, sweet maid.

Outside stood his daughter,as slim as a wand,

with a golden vessel in either hand.

She filled them both full to quench their thirst,

she toasted her father’s murderer first.

‘Had I but known you were kind and good,

I’d never have shed your father’s heart’s blood.’

‘If my father you’ve killed, why then I confess,

You are the source of my great distress.’

‘Should I unkindly to you have been,

From now on you’ll live just as well as me.'

He placed her then on his ash-grey steed,

With a blue cloak covered her in her need.

Then rode he over the ink-black moor

              – by the hillside –

Her father – she saw him never more

The day it is dawning, and dew it is drifting so worldwide.